Open [The Syliras Theater] Opening Night

[Jovhel]

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66th of Summer, 514
21st bell

Jovhel leaned out on the railing of the second floor. He scanned the scene around him to take in the overwhelming scene around him. There were merchants, here and there, advertising useless little knick knacks to people wandering by. Though Ms. Sorian, the flute-playing storyteller, had the spotlight of Leth's glow, dancers were practicing and the Sorian twins were entertaining passersby, all were creating circles of space as room for their performances as onlookers enjoyed what they had to offer.

Though Jovhel was out there late at night without any real ambitious reason, he had thought that spending time in the Syliras Theater would be a good way to meet new people. Also, Bohemians and Thespians were always fascinating to him. He thought to himself to go down and watch the dancers up close. He always enjoyed dancing himself afterall, maybe he could learn something by watching them.

Walking down to the dancers, he weaved his way past pacing people prancing left and right to not collide with anyone. Upon arriving to the front of the dancers audience, Jovhel was in complete awe. This was nothing like Benshira circle dancing his mother taught him, The dancers were much more petite, formal, and controlled. He didn't know what to call this ballet, but he found it intriguing, yet much too refined for his liking. These poor people must be so repressed. He thought to himself.

All the more, he continued to watch the dancers, though this style was much to foreign to him to learn by watching.

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[Oriah]

"A pendant for a pretty lady?"

It took the squire a couple ticks to realize the hawker's too-wide grin and expectant gaze were trained on her, and not some other hapless woman trying to squeeze her way to the second floor.

"No, thank you," Oriah tried to respond as she shook her head, but the crowd quickly pushed her past earshot of the enterprising hawker.

Disappointment, however, was no unfamiliar guest in these raucous parts. Every person present was an opportunist in some form or other; Theater Square tended to attract such natures, be they the kind who preferred to sit and watch, or the kind that liked to have a hand in things. The man forgot her in the span of a heart beat as he spotted another potential target, beaming at the lost looking lass with an even wider and persistent grin. "A pendant for a pretty lady?"

Oriah smiled to herself in amusement as more and more flamboyant scenes rolled past her. Merchants selling colored roses, acrobats juggling flaming pins, dancers...

Her heart lurched. Distantly, the squire realized she had stopped at some point, people jostling past her with impatient grunts. But she couldn't bring herself to care at that moment. For, weaving in a haphazard line in front of the transfixed Benshira, was a group of colorfully dressed dancers, half breathless from laughter and arms hooked within one another's like some kind of giant, motley-ed snake.

She loosed an aching sigh. Never, in all this time since she'd begun her training as a squire, had Oriah missed her first love more.

In her stupefied state, the lass failed to realize how openly she was staring. By the time Oriah noticed one of the dancers had locked eyes with her and flicked her gaze elsewhere, embarrassed, it was too late. A new chain of events had been ignited.

"You look like you want to dance, miss," her momentary connection announced as this perceptive stranger--and the rest of the motley snake--neared. Then, before the Benshira could either answer or protest, an arm hooked into hers and she was flying away in a flurry of stomping, twisting, merry-making bodies.

"Ho!" someone down the line shouted.

The arms suddenly detached themselves from Oriah's as everyone stopped in their tracks and clapped their hands. She did her best to follow, acting constantly one or two ticks late, as the others spun once, twice, clapped again above their heads, and linked arms again. Realizing belatedly there was an actual pattern to what seemed initially like utter chaos, the former dancer found herself grinning like a wildling and mentally rolling up her sleeves.

Time to get this thing mastered.

She had no concept of time from that point on. Only moves, one after another, and the surprised but approving expressions of her new dance mates. Every once in a while something new would be introduced and Oriah ate up the maneuvers with long forgotten hunger.

Whenever she failed, it fueled her even more to succeed. And whenever she succeeded, it felt like the whole world was bowing to her feet.

A commotion to her right momentarily broke her concentration. One of her dancing partners--or as she had come to see them, links within the chain--bowed out, face drenched in sweat and breaths intensely labored.

"Lucky girl, it's your turn!" the woman on her left shouted.

Oriah stared at her in confusion, trying her best not to miss any steps. "What??"

The woman laughed as she spun, their arms separating once more so they could take part in the clapping. When they stood side by side once more she explained, "Your turn to pick someone to learn the dance, youngling!"

Realization dawned on the squire at last and her partner winked.

"Make it a good one, eh?"

Oriah looked around desperately, for the first time since she'd been pulled into this riotous dance, out at the crowd. Was this a big deal? Should she pick someone specific? Did it even matter? A hundred questions shot through her mind but in the end she chose to go with her instincts.

In her frantic scanning, she caught sight of a boy too young to be a knight and too old to be a page. Oriah wasn't entirely sure what it was about him. Perhaps it was the way he was staring in awe at the professional dancers admist their warm up routine. Or perhaps it was the vibrancy of his green eyes as they tracked each careful, painstakingly trained movement of the twirling figures, who exuded a flawless grace so unlike the wild abandon with which the approaching chain of random dancers now shamelessly operated.

Or maybe it was because he looked awfully a lot like kin...

Whatever it was, her mind was made. Just like that. And as they passed in their boisterous mirth, earning disapproving glares from the professionals as they elegantly stretched and leaned, Oriah reached out to the boy and hooked her arm around his.

"Dance with us instead!" she beamed, shooting a sly look at the now openly flabbergasted stage dancers.

And then they were off, swept up in the untamed energy of serendipitous loons.

[Lissa Maze]

[

Lissa Maze OOCHope you don't mind another person, looked like a fun thread. Lissa wove and ducked her way through the crowd, laughing and pushing with the rest. She was used to the merchants, the vendors, the crowds of Sylirans and visitors coming together in a massive entity known only as the Crowd, the Audience, the mass of people there for entertainment or company or anything at all--people came to the theater for all sorts of reasons. Many, like her, were just looking for something to do, something fun after a day of work. Lissa had found herself wide awake sitting in her room at Traveler's Row, after getting out work, idly wishing that she could, like so many others, read a book--but the wish was quickly gone, overridden by the exciting decision to go out. She'd wandered through Syliras briefly, deciding where to go, greeting acquaintances without much purpose. The solution was so simple that she almost laughed at herself for not thinking of it earlier: the theater. There was probably something going on there. Now, having pushed her way far enough in through the crowd to hear, she hear music and clapping. The girl's face lit up, realizing that she'd been right--people were dancing out there. Dancing! Dancing, she thought, was beauty. It was movement, pure and simple, movement with joy and music through the lights... She was getting close to the front, but there were (as usual) taller folks between her and anything of interest. A hand tapped her arm lightly and the girl spun around, suddenly nervous. An unexpectedly purposeful touch in the crowd? She should have known, she thought to herself, as she saw the perpetrator. He was smiling, trying to be friendly, and she blushed. Of course it was a merchant, trying to make a sale. He indicated towards his wares, not even trying to shout above the noise until she stepped closer. "Looking for some jewelry, miss?" He held up a copper bracelet, correctly guessing her income as on the smaller side. She shook her head, ready to move on, when the light glanced off the shiny metals. Lissa gave in to curiosity and moved in to examine his wares. The small cart had pegs with jewelry hanging off it. Some were bone, but most metal, shiny but without the expensive jewels. She handled this and that, and then her eye was caught by a thin silver headband. She picked it up, looking in interest, and the merchant saw. "Lovely item there, miss," he said eagerly. [b]"It'd look pretty with your hair, all dark like that...stand out nicely, it would." She hesitated, silently agreeing. She didn't have any jewelry. Lissa remembered it on her mother. Mostly copper, some silver, little items--but shiny, and therefore interesting to a child. She remembered sitting on her mother's lap, spinning an oversized bracelet over and over again on her tiny wrist, easily distracted while her mother worked elsewhere. Clapping from the crowd roused Lissa from her memories. "How much?" she asked, holding up the silver headband. "Four gold mizas," she was told, and raised her eyebrows. Pay gold for silver? She shook her head, reluctantly putting it back, and decided to go back to the entertainment at hand--the free kind. She stretched onto her toes, hopeful, and was defeated by those with a...vertical advantage. Time to move forward. Using small size to her advantage, Lissa ducked under taller arms and squeezed between standing bodies until she could see the dancing. As she watched, a girl older than her was just about to choose a partner, to the clapping of her dancing companions. She looked lost for a moment, and then seized upon a boy in the audience. A boy Lissa didn't recognize, with interesting green eyes. Looking at the pair, she wondered if they knew one another, and dismissed it. People who came together stayed closer, didn't they? And he looked too young for her. A brother? She still dismissed it, and shrugged. That was the beauty of the theater. So many strangers acting like friends.

[Jovhel]

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OOCYa, Hi Lissa Maze! Forgive me for not including you in this post, I just wasn't sure how to integrate you in a way that seemed natural.
Jovhel watched the dancers and noted that they were rather repetitive, but he understood why when they 'volunteered' someone to join in. The stranger they invited in to dance learned rather quickly. It was apparent that she herself was familiar with dancing by how quickly she picked up what they put down. Why, had Jovhel been in her place, he didn't think he could hace

Something about this young woman though reminded him of something specific. Her slow, sensual movements as she was just grasping the choreography around her were familiar to him. Her quick, efficient feet placement as well. It all reminded him of how his mother danced when she taught him how to. This certain something reminded him of his homeland.

This woman looks like she could be Benshira, He thought to himself, but she's very light-skinned for one- Mid-thought, he realized he was staring at her, and she was staring back. He looked away in an awkward attempt to ease the stress of the situation, but as he returned their gaze, he realized that he was being drawn out of the very loud crowd. His face clearly showed how shocked he was at the woman's little seizure of the dancers performance space.

She linked to his arm and with mutual laughter they centered the audience's attention. He really didn't know how to dance though. The cheering of the crown surrounding them, and the jeering of the dancers beside, it was very difficult to focus. But he did know traditional Benshira dancing by heart. It was all his mother and him did leisurely did during his childhood.

He got on a knee, extended his left arm straight out with his palm flexed. His right arm went straight down and his elbow at a right angle so his lower arm went across his stomach with his right palm was facing the same direction as his other, he assumed a traditional stance to initiate the beginning of a childrens dance during "Masha".

His eyes were glowing with excitement. He bit his lip nervously and eager to see if this stranger would like to partake in a Benshira child's dance with him. He lifted himself up from his initial position and began his dance. He danced on an invisible circle that lined the audience around him. His steps were not strong as most men in Yahebah danced, but light and continuously fluid. Hid arms were dramatic when they moved, but never sharp. His feet swung and spun, each movement was either a circle or a semicircle.

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[Oriah]

oocMy apologies as well Lissa, perhaps after their introduction a show could start or something and they could come together that way?

She thought he might be shy at first, or reluctant. And understandably so, given the sudden, raucous, change in circumstances. But the boy took her offer with instant good grace. It wasn't long before they were laughing together, caught up in the whirlwind of energy required to keep up with the rest of the group.

No sooner had they linked arms, however, than Oriah found herself being separated from the snaking line of dancers. At some point her new partner had stopped and was doing something on his own. She looked down at the boy, first in confusion, then in shock, as he did the very last thing she'd expected to witness at Theater Square. At anywhere in Syliras, in fact.

He began dancing for Masha.

Oriah's eyes knew what they saw by heart. The children's dance was where her long, fruitful relationship with its more sophisticated kin had started. She remembered the first time she'd been allowed to join, and every time after as it became the highlight of her days. Even after all these years, the Benshira had forgotten not one single step.

She met the boy's vibrant gaze with a wide-eyed, ecstatic one of her own, and felt something inside click. All the clues finally fell into their proper places. His dark skin, his even darker hair, and the ever-familiar, crystalline quality of his eyes. She was lighter than him, given her reclusive training in the Bronze Woods' temperate conditions, and the harshness of Syna's love had faded somewhat from her skin, but it made little difference. Oriah knew, in that moment, without a shred of doubt that she was looking upon one of her own.

Heart swelling with a mish mash of emotions, ranging from homesickness to fierce elation, the squire watched as her companion began the dance. She had eyes only for the boy and a small radius around him. Everything else fell into obscurity.

Unlike the usual, brash strength that most men from her Tent preferred to exude, this young man possessed a quality of suppleness that belied his budding masculinity. He also displayed a customary confidence and familiarity in his steps, further proof of the heritage they shared. Oriah had to force herself not to join in prematurely, so taken was she by alternating waves of nostalgia and jubilation, and wait until her partner had finished his first cycle.

Then the moment finally came for her to step in, and it was all the squire could do not to weep.

Eyes shining, Oriah spun in slow, half circle as soon as the boy had finished one himself, continuing the movement with effortless ease. She'd done this dance a hundred times. It came to her as naturally as breathing.

Except now, the much more worldly Benshira had new skills and experiences to add to the childhood ritual. She still kept an even pace just out of reach of her companion, the two of them moving in perfect synchrony as they went round and round the invisible ring before their hushed audience.

But, every once in a while, Oriah would add something more complex from her own repertoire--a fluid flourish of the hand, a subtle undulation of the belly--or just improvise in the moment. It felt incredible and agonizing at the same time, to be so close yet so far from home. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd partaken in her own traditions, so immersed had she been in Syliran culture and her endless training.

All too soon, the dance came to an end and they were left with a bemused but appreciative audience. Oriah heard little of their comments, though, as she turned to face her fellow dancer.

In a spur of inspiration, the lass rested her hands lightly on the sides of his arms and placed a single, chaste kiss on his right cheek. It was traditional greeting not as his female elder, but as one child to another. Not the most conventional gesture, but it seemed appropriate at the time, given their recent performance.

"Peace be upon you, little brother," she spoke at last in their native tongue. It was so blessedly delightful, being able to say these words to someone who understood. "And a thousand blessings to Yahal for our fateful meeting. I never thought I would meet one of my people out here, in the Theater of all places. Ah, but where are my manners? Forgive me, I am--was--formerly known as Oriah, from the tents of Zahar, of the sons of Malech."

"But now," she switched back to Common, "I am Squire Oriah Azari of the Green Company, and it is my deepest pleasure to have danced with you."

She watched her new acquaintance excitedly, wondering from where in the searing landscape of the Eyktol--their home--this young man hailed.

[Jovhel]

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Jovhel excitedly followed the squire, dodging the various merchants, visitors, and buskers alike just as she, while listening intently to her summary of her life. Jovhel smiled happily to know she was a twin, hoping to sometime meet her as well. Obviously, he was oblivious of the past-tense she used when she spoke of her and any hidden story beneath her words.

The next part of the conversation he was much more in tune to. I think you’re a really good dancer, you must have been dancing for much longer than me! And I know what you mean about getting along with elders, they’re so boring! Yahal is so much more than oppressing yourself from everything all the time, no matter what it is! From what I’ve learned of Yahal, He is constantly working to strengthen faith and purity and wants us to be the most faithful, pure, and strong characters. How can do so unless we go out in the world and exercise our trust and faith in him and others and fight against impurity? His words were one who was fiercely passionate about what he was saying. Though this justification shined a golden light on his ambitions and motivations, he also left his tent so he could have independence.

This monologue was so involving to him he failed to notice that Oriah had bumped into someone and continued on with it until she began her apology. He barely noticed the stranger she had bumped into until she introduced him to her clumsy conversationist. Apparently, he was about to make another friend, and he was delighted to do so.

She was a nice looking lady. She didn’t seem out of the ordinary in any way regarding her body parts or race besides maybe had one too many left feet, but he felt no need to withhold trust from her. With this short assessment he offered a friendly smile and a Hi! He took a deep breath to say, “Nice to meet you.” But before he could speak she had eyed empty seats and a couple about to put an end to those and darted off to reserve them.

The disappointed couple passed by him, grumbling to themselves as the crowded theater revealed to them they would have to stand. He glanced at the two with a troubled smile and his head facing the floor, but when they had passed, he looked at the 16 year old giggling excitedly. Thank you. He hushed to her, very grateful she was rude to them, so he wouldn’t have to stand or be rude to someone himself. All together now, they could socialize with out much of a worry. Hi Lissa, it’s nice to meet you! Were you just wandering the square like I was? It’s a nice night to run into people. It was an innocent start to a conversation. He was just being himself.

He glanced at the dancers who still seemed to still be talking to one another, but the performance was bound to begin any second now. This did not however, seem to stop rabid seat hunters as they scooted past this way and that in front of and behind the group of acquaintances. Jovhel winced whenever someone passed in front of him as sitting down put them at an uncomfortable proximity to all the standing people’s more private areas. But nothing could help that, so between wincing and leaning away from unwanted touching he kept his focus on this newest friend and what she had to say.

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[Oriah]

oocbehold, I have remedied the problem! Feel free to post anytime Lissa!

Oriah drank in the musicality of Jovhel's accent, which sang in tones at once familiar and unfamiliar to her ears. Though this was nothing unexpected--the different kinds of ways their people spoke Shiber varied as much as the shades of sand they tread upon.

When he switched to Common, however, she became genuinely surprised. The boy spoke it much more fluently than she, but the reason for this discrepancy was of greater interest to her.

A Tent, out here in Syliras. And in the outpost, no less. Oriah grinned to herself at this placement of fate she would never have imagined taking place. She listened to him recount his tale with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The squire had heard of Keerdash Grove's crimson trees and their mystical leaves, but never been there herself, and hearing Jovhel's descriptions made the place seem that much more real.

But she also wondered silently to herself how he and his siblings fared, given how different they were from most of Mithryn's other inhabitants. Oriah herself had grown up most of her life surrounded by children of her kind. Did they ever feel excluded or out of place?

Perhaps not, the squire mused in her own head. Jovhel seems to have assimilated rather well while still keeping hold of what traditions he can. Their Masha dance had been proof enough of that.

"Those were lovely memories," Oriah laughed, partly at his boyish enthusiasm and partly because of his sudden chagrin at having spoken so much. Though the habit didn't seem unnatural to him, that much was certain. "I guess it would only be fair to tell some of mine in exchange, but let us find somewhere to sit first. I think the show is about to start!"

Indeed, when she looked up the professional dancers had cleared off the stage, having finished with their warm ups and begun preparing for the official performance.

Oriah chatted amiably with her new friend as she led them to some available seats. "I don't quite remember where I was born," she explained, weaving in and around various attendees. "And neither do my parents, I think. All I remember is that I was not alone--I had a twin who came into the world with me--and that I was happy."

Blinking slowly at a few open seats two rows down, the squire suppressed the age old aches and pains that always came with memories of Priah and quickly changed the subject. "I was good at dancing," she continued, making her way down the steps, "but not so good at listening to my elders. When I was old enough I left my Tent to see the world and better understand Yahal's teachings. Now, of all, things, I am training to be a knight of the Order. It is hard, but it feels right. So far I believe in everything I am supposed to defend."

Everything including a certain, raven-haired squire stationed somewhere in the outpost as well. But this Oriah chose not to mention, if only to save herself the utter embarrassment of such an admittance.

She'd been looking back at Jovhel at the time she spoke her last sentence, and in doing so failed to notice someone standing in front of her before it was too late. With an oompf of impact, Oriah bumped straight into an unsuspecting bystander.

"Ahh, my apologies miss!" the squire blurted, holding out her hands to make sure she hadn't injured the girl. To her surprise, it turned out to be the same lass she had seen that jewelry hawker address on her way up to the second floor.

Her victim was a pretty thing, looking to be about the same age as Johvel, with black waves of hair and bright, brown eyes. Oriah had nearly knocked her clear off her feat, so engrossed had the squire been in, well, not paying attention, and felt right proper crude. Not knowing how to remedy the situation, Oriah did her best with what she had.

"I am Squire Oriah Azari, and this is my new friend, Johvel. I think the show is about to start and we've found some seats just over there, quite a good view. Would you care to join us?"

[Lissa Maze]

[

Lissa Maze OOCThanks, Oriah! I was trying to figure out how to jump in, thanks for looping me in so neatly. Sorry this isn't a great post, I haven't been able to write for the weekend so it was a bit of a rush. As Lissa finally found a crevasse between two in the crowd, she could see the dancers--and there was so much to see. She had grown up in Syliras, of course, and as a child found her way into the theater fairly often. It was a good place for a bored child to sit for a part of the afternoon. of course she'd seen the casual, friendly dancing that occupied theater-goers before a show; it wasn't always the same, of course, but there were patterns, and dances, and rhythms--familiar ones, dancing that she was used to. She watched as the girl picked her partner, the green-eyed boy, and waited impatiently for them to begin. She never expected it, though, the boy's odd gesture. On a knee, his arm out--it was all unfamiliar. S She had no idea what they were doing, circles and whirls and intricate patterns like nothing she'd seen before. Even without any knowledge of the dance, she was impressed. The boy was so excited, anyone could see it, and he could dance. He was light and quick, confident of these foreign steps. Watching, she realized that it might be a dance from his childhood. --something more familiar to him than the Syliran patterns. Finally, it was time for his partner to enter the dance. One look at her face told it all. She seemed just as excited as the boy, and a corner of Lissa's mind finally made the connection. They'd acted as though there were some connection, they were eagerly partnered in some strange but pretty dance that she'd never seen before--maybe it was from their childhood, both of theirs. Maybe they were from the same place, or the same culture at least. She abandoned her musings to watch the dancing, clapping with the crowd as they watched with uncharacteristic quiet. Finally, the girl kissed the boy's cheek--a kiss of greeting, it seemed, rather than romance--and started to speak. At first, Lissa blamed the crowd. She couldn't make out the words, as so often happened when one was teying to her through the vendors and fellow patrons of a theater, not to mention the noise drifting in from outside. After a few moments, though, the girl's words seemed to change, and Lissa could understand. It was only then that she finally realized she had been hearing an entirely different language, as the boy replied in kind. Lissa had long since decided that the practice known as 'eavesdropping' was one of many things that people tended to get far too worked up about. After all, children were taught to listen when others spoke, to observe the world around them and to learn, and yet in such an odd set of circumstances it was not acceptable. Besides which, she'd never been entirely clear on whether it was 'eavesdropping' if conversation occurred very distinctly between two people and only those people, but in public. Ignoring the possibility of moral quandaries, she listened avidly to their conversation (missing some as nearby voices raised, hearing snatches) about foreign places and their histories. So busy was she listening that Lissa has forgone common sense and not watched the crowd. She didn't even notice them approaching until suddenly there was a collision, and Lissa found herself staring straight at the girl who'd been dancing, stumbling to keep her balance. "Ahh, my apologies miss!" As Lissa regained some semblance of balance, the other girl's apology was suppleented by an offer. "I am Squire Oriah Azari, and this is my new friend, Johvel. I think the show is about to start and we've found some seats just over there, quite a good view. Would you care to join us?" Lissa didn't even have tothink about it. "Squire Oriah, Johvel, I would be delighted," she replied politely, moving where the other had indicated, where a few open seats still remained. As she moved with the pair up towards the seats, she swiveled her head back and forth, trying to look at thos eshe spoke to while avoiding yet another unfortunate collision. "I'm Lissa. I would say that I'm not usually prone to such clumsy mishaps, but--" as she narrowly avoided tripping over a seated man's foot "--as you can see, that wouldn't be quite true. Still, it's a nice way to meet people, starts a conversation.." She chattered as they pushed through the crowd, as all had realized that the show was starting and started searching for seats. In a moment of sheer annoyance, Lissa saw a middle-aged couple heading towards the seats she and her two new companions had found. Four seats, five people--it wouldn't do. A whole childhood of seat-searching took over and Lissa broke into a choppy run, determined to beat the others to claim seats and, half-tripping, slid into the farthest of the seats. She gave the couple a bright smile, righting herself, and stretched a hand towards the seats bedside her. "So sorry, these seats seem to be taken." The couple sighed, but proved themselves familiar with the theater by turning without argument to snatch ta different spot out from yet another seat-less group. The girl turned back to Oriah and Johvel, smiling with more than a touch of embarrassment. She wasn't usually quite so pushy, but years of practice did have a way of taking over, and she was tied. It was not a day that she wanted to stand for a show, and could only hope that the two did not think less of her for it.

[Jovhel]

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Jovhel excitedly followed the squire, dodging the various merchants, visitors, and buskers alike just as she, while listening intently to her summary of her life. Jovhel smiled happily to know she was a twin, hoping to sometime meet her as well. Obviously, he was oblivious of the past-tense she used when she spoke of her and any hidden story beneath her words.

The next part of the conversation he was much more in tune to. I think you’re a really good dancer, you must have been dancing for much longer than me! And I know what you mean about getting along with elders, they’re so boring! Yahal is so much more than oppressing yourself from everything all the time, no matter what it is! From what I’ve learned of Yahal, He is constantly working to strengthen faith and purity and wants us to be the most faithful, pure, and strong characters. How can do so unless we go out in the world and exercise our trust and faith in him and others and fight against impurity? His words were one who was fiercely passionate about what he was saying. Though this justification shined a golden light on his ambitions and motivations, he also left his tent so he could have independence.

This monologue was so involving to him he failed to notice that Oriah had bumped into someone and continued on with it until she began her apology. He barely noticed the stranger she had bumped into until she introduced him to her clumsy conversationist. Apparently, he was about to make another friend, and he was delighted to do so.

She was a nice looking lady. She didn’t seem out of the ordinary in any way regarding her body parts or race besides maybe had one too many left feet, but he felt no need to withhold trust from her. With this short assessment he offered a friendly smile and a Hi! He took a deep breath to say, “Nice to meet you.” But before he could speak she had eyed empty seats and a couple about to put an end to those and darted off to reserve them.

The disappointed couple passed by him, grumbling to themselves as the crowded theater revealed to them they would have to stand. He glanced at the two with a troubled smile and his head facing the floor, but when they had passed, he looked at the 16 year old giggling excitedly. Thank you. He hushed to her, very grateful she was rude to them, so he wouldn’t have to stand or be rude to someone himself. All together now, they could socialize with out much of a worry. Hi Lissa, it’s nice to meet you! Were you just wandering the square like I was? It’s a nice night to run into people. It was an innocent start to a conversation. He was just being himself.

He glanced at the dancers who still seemed to still be talking to one another, but the performance was bound to begin any second now. This did not however, seem to stop rabid seat hunters as they scooted past this way and that in front of and behind the group of acquaintances. Jovhel winced whenever someone passed in front of him as sitting down put them at an uncomfortable proximity to all the standing people’s more private areas. But nothing could help that, so between wincing and leaning away from unwanted touching he kept his focus on this newest friend and what she had to say.

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[Oriah]

Oriah's eyes had lit at the heartfelt words that poured from Jovhel's consciousness. She was caught off guard at first as his compliments at her dancing, having almost forgotten what it felt like to have an audience, but his adamant assurance in the validity of her decisions made the squire smile from ear to ear.

The younger Benshira evoked feelings of nostalgia and kinship so poignant it made her heart ache. Oriah had spent years facing the frequent disapproval of her elders; even the younger members of their Tent eventually shied aware from her whenever she did something conspicuous. Her interpretations of Yahal's teachings had often made the others uncomfortable. Their lives were rather ascetic amidst the harsh sands of the Eyktol and few had either time or energy to go about re-evaluating their ways. Tradition was tradition. Life was difficult enough as it was without philosophical meddling.

But she had wanted to meddle. Not because the dancer didn't value or respect her people's traditions, but because she felt the constant chafing of rules that didn't quite fit her that no one else in her Tent seemed to experience. After realizing she seemed to be the only one who felt this way, it didn't take long for Oriah to decide to strike out on her own. She loved her home, and her people even more so, but at some point the young woman was forced to admit her Tent could no longer offer what she needed.

And how she was here. A season traveler, and a squire too, no less. Sitting in Theater Square about to see a performance that would have never taken place anywhere near her old Tent, with company she would have never otherwise met. Oriah had always wondered what it would be like to have a brother, and Jovhel's presence eased more than a little of her curiosity. They seemed incredibly alike in both spirit and mind. Syna touched, as some in her past had referred to such sunny dispositions.

Marrick would like him, she mused to herself.

It was no wonder that she had bumped into Lissa as bodily as she did.

Oriah caught the hushed gratitude from Jovhel to Lissa after the girl had staked her claim on their seats and couldn't helping adding one of her own. "Nicely done!" the squire grinned beside their new friend's ear.

As Jovhel made his own, enthusiastic introductions, the elder Benshira kept an eye out on the stage, the pleasant niggling of anticipation dancing about in her stomach. Then both Benshiras sat in quiet but eager attention, ready to hear how Lissa had come about being in Theater Square this auspicious night.

"Was that man able to sell you something?" Oriah threw in a question of her own, unable to help herself. "His wares were so pretty, but a squire like me has no use for such things, sadly."

It wasn't long after their introductions that a general hush fell about the audience. People began settling comfortably into their seats, and somewhere somehow the lights began to dim. Oriah craned her neck and was able to catch a glimpse of someone snuffing out several of the torches and candles. After a few more moments, the only main source of lighting left was the one on stage, illuminating a thick set of velvet curtains and the rich umber of wooden floorboards.

"Look, I think it's starting!" she whispered to her compatriots, a flutter of excitement passing through her body.