Open [The Rearing Stallion] Lightning Feet

[Calisto]

lightning feet seventy seventh day of summer fivehundred and fifteenth year av The sky was low and heavy as Calisto ran to the tavern. It took her a very short time on her speedy legs to reach the door and pull it open into the warmth and light. Voices surged and laughter sang; music floated past her as she stepped in and blended quickly into the midst. Her small body was hard to pick out, if one was searching for her, because she moved quietly and quickly from one place to the next. Calisto slipped up to the bar and smiled at the man standing there behind the counter. "Hello there Calisto, what can I do for you?" He asked amicably. "Would it be alright if I danced for tips here tonight?" she asked him. She had spoke to the man before, Kevith Aargon was his name, on the various nights she came in to dance, so he was familiar of her. "Yes that's fine. You will have to slip in between shifts of our hired dancers, however. It's a big crowd tonight, probably good tips. Have you spoken to the employment office yet of a permanent job?" Calisto knew that Kevith didn't approve of her unprofessional employment, he was the one that had encouraged her to find a permanent place. "I have." She nodded. "They haven't gotten back to me yet." The song in the air shifted and began to fade, and Calisto nodded to the man before moving quickly towards the small open area next to the musicians. She adjusted her simple dress, black and swirling about her legs, and brushed away a strand of hair covering her cheek. When she danced, she felt relaxed and calm. The dance was one she had seen another girl perform some months ago, and had learned in her free time, so she was only somewhat familiar with it. All around her, the world faded and smudged as she spun and twirled in time with the music, like a strand of sea weed tossed in the currents. She had a skill of small detailed quick movements that added an artistic look to her dancing that was unique. The song ended, a small applause ensued, and she curtsied. She pulled a small coin bag from her waist and wandered the room with it open in her hands. "Tips? Please tip! Thank you." She sat heavily at a table in a corner after this, and placed her face in her hands, eyes outward, watching the room.

[Morgan Donne]

The heat was oppressive.

"If it would just rain," he said to himself, voice lost under the din of The Rearing Stallion. He was sat in a corner, as far from the crowd as he could possibly get, looking out over the festivities. He watched them swill wine and shove chicken into their gullets; had to fight the urge to shudder.

It was too hot for all of that.

No question the cigar between his fingers didn't help matters. He placed it between his lips and wiped the sweat from his brow with his newly freed hand. He flicked the droplets from his fingers and onto the rough floor of the tavern. He watched them smear under the numerous boots and the shoes of the tavern girls.

He was only here for business. He came to this table once or twice a week, sometimes more, and he had since coming to the city. Here he could blend into the crowd and watch the merchants drink themselves stupid before filching the contents of their purses. He smiled around the cigar, allowing the smoke to escape his mouth. The rich aroma of the tobacco was lost in the stench of the compressed masses.

He was aware that there was a dancer on, that there were musicians performing, but he paid them no mind. They served as distractions, to give the people something to watch while he did his business. They did their jobs well enough. He chuckled as the music died, slapped his knee half-heartedly. He puffed on the cigar as a new dancer took the stage.

"She's wee," he said, again to no one in particular. He watched as she swept her hair from her face and began to move. She seemed to dance well enough. How was he to know? She didn't dance quite like anyone else he'd seen performing at the tavern. He wondered where she had come from. He did need companions. Since coming to Syliras he'd spent a great deal of time left to his own devices.

All work and no play.

He tapped the ash from the end of his cigar out onto the floor. It swirled about in the currents created by drunken footsteps. The sweat had reappeared on his brow and with a sigh he wiped it for what must have been the thousandth time. His eyes returned to the dancer, and he continued to watch her routine, going so far as to clap when she had finished. It was nice to see something new.

He kept his eyes on her as she made her way through the crowd, open coin purse in hand.

"No. That'd be greasy. No," he said as his fingers danced across the tabletop. Gods but he loved the sight of coin. Her walk through the crowd truly illustrated how tiny she was. She passed by his corner, making her way to the one opposite and dropping down into one of the chairs. He was running the calculations in his head. He knew he had some silvers floating about, earmarked for personal use.

"To making friends," he said, shoving himself up from the table. He lost his seat before he'd taken more than two steps, and had to slip and slide through the cracks in the wall of people before him. As he walked he smoked and as he smoked he fought the urge to steal. Once he had the purse of an exceptionally drunk man in his hand before releasing it and sending the poor fool stumbling onward.

He arrived to the corner table and, miraculously, found a serviceable stool. He shoved it under the table with his foot and quickly took a seat, before it could be stolen from under him. He puffed pensively for a moment before removing the handful of silvers and sitting them on the table in front of her.

"You dance well. Draw everyone's attention. Better than some of these others."

Receipt- 20 SM

[Bakar]

I promise I'm not that scary..

The tavern was packed tonight, and Bakar's usual seat was taken by a man sitting in the corner. She sighed and took a seat beside some gruff, drunk looking men. They made some remarks about her, being small and "lovely". They were just too drunk to realize that she was pale as the moon, and more so due to the makeup around her eyes. These were the first such remarks she's heard since in this body, and she wasn't really sure how to respond. She smiled at them nervously, then turned her attention to the dancer who had just taken the stage.

Dancing wasn't really something that she had ever gotten into. She lacked the ability to see it for what it was. To her, it was bodies flailing around. She knew there was more to it than that, but she couldn't see, and no one had ever tried to explain it to her.

As the women ended, the tavern clapped. She joined in, not really sure what they were clapping about. The dancer then went table to table, asking for tips. "Doesn't the tavern pay them?" She said to herself. Despite this, when she arrived at her table, she got out her coins. "I'm.. not really sure what the standard tip is for this.. here.. sorry.." She spoke to the women quietly, passing her a gold Miza.

As she left, the drunk men's attention returned to Bakar, hounding her with more compliments and praise for her "beauty". Able to take it no more, she thanked the men, and removed herself from the table. She saw the dancer take a seat in a corner table, and decided to follow her there. "Maybe with her beside me, people will compliment her instead of me.." She said under her breath.

As she was making her way across, she noticed a man also heading towards the table. He was moving swiftly through the crowd, clearly skilled at navigating large amounts of people. As he drew closer, she recognized him as the man in her usual table. Excitedly looking back at it, it was too late. There was already a group of people laughing and drinking. Sighing at the loss, she continued towards the dancer. Most seats were taken, and the man from the corner had taken the last one. Looking back to her last seat, she saw it was now taken as well. Deciding it was for the best, as she really didn't want to sit with those drunkards again, she continued to the table, and stood, leaning against the wall beside the dancer.

"Y-you did well." Bakar said unsurely, completely oblivious to what well would even be for a dance. She assumed it was well, for the applause were quite loud. She did her best to be warm and friendly. Trying not to put out the feeling of unease most people feel around her. She bowed to the man sitting across, giving him a nervous smile.

He was pale, with dark circles under his sunken eyes. Upon noticing this, she froze. This appearance reminded her too much of herself. Surely he wasn't.. The man spoke, and he saw his tongue. Pink and lively. She relaxed, knowing that it wasn't what she had thought. A little disappointed though, as she hadn't met much of her kind. Maybe they hid it like she did? Not wanting to risk it, she knew that she would keep hiding her true nature from whoever she could.

[Calisto]

calisto The room writhed and swirled, like smoke... or worms. She lowered her head to rest across folded arms and watched the mass of heated bodies. She, sitting in the corner, managed to snag a little air that wasn't tainted by the scent of sweat and rushing blood and ale and smoke that was thick in the air. Her stomach rumbled, ached, and her tongue watered, but she knew that ale drenched men were not the best of meat. The best men were thinner, more meaty and healthy. The best men tended to drink wisely. Calisto was startled by the sudden appearance of the man who pulled up a stool across from her. She sat up. He brooded there, staring deeply at her in silence, for what seemed a minute or two. "You dance well. Draw everyone's attention. Better than some of these others." He tossed several silver coins down on the table in front of her slightly widened eyes. this is interesting she thought briefly, before thanking him. He was the kind of man that made a good meal for her. She ignored the instinct, however, and fumbled for some sort of conversational piece. Another voice, however, interrupted her stumbling mind. "You did well," the girl's voice stuttered. She was pale, and something about her made Calisto feel unsettled, but she was not overly perturbed. If anything should unsettle, it would be her, the snake who thirsted for blood but disguised herself as a small girl. "Thank you." She had to speak uncomfortably loud above the noise, and suddenly wished she could get outside, away from all the bodies. "I'm Calisto. Pleased to meet you...?" She left it as a question, as if to say, "What are your names?" While she asked, she twitched from one character to the other, to show that the question was meant for both.

[Morgan Donne]

Her eyes widened at the sight of the silver.

He smoked without responding to her thanks, eyes locked on her slim figure. He couldn't shake how tiny she seemed. He had opened his mouth to speak, only to hear another voice, undercutting the din. His eyes darted to the new speaker.

They're all tiny. Am I in a dream? Am I become a giant?

He took a sideways glance at his hands, making sure they were the same size they'd always been. He removed the cigar from his lips as his eyes traced the form of the new figure, smoke drifting upward and across the table. She seemed nervous, uncomfortable in her own skin maybe. Something seemed off about her. He couldn't place it...but something wasn't right.

It made him itch.

He noted her hitch as she studied his face, and for a moment he was worried. Was she a thief? More importantly, had she realized he was a thief? He tugged at his collar with his free hand, a new crop of sweat sprung upon his forehead. Hopefully it wasn't that. It couldn't have been that. No way could she have known. He returned her bow with a nod of his head, doing his best to regain his composure.

His cigar had almost run its course. He could feel the heat from it, searing his knuckle. He took the last drag almost wistfully before dropping the butt to the floor. He ground it out beneath the heel of his boot and, almost before he had finished, reached into his tobacco pouch for another. He placed it between his lips, leaning forward into the lantern as Calisto asked her question.

Calisto? Haven't heard a name like that before. A curious group indeed haha.

It was hard to hear her over the noise, and it was obvious that she was straining to be heard. He watched her lips to get the gist of her question, saw her eyes moving between the two of them. It took a moment for the words to sink in, disguised as they were in the cacophony of the tavern.

He considered the question for a moment, after his mind picked the words from the clamor, letting smoke gather in his mouth and taking a deep breath. He thought of lying. Had he been in Sunberth, he would have lied without a second thought. Even after deciding on the truth, it was hard to force it out past the lie.

"Matrim," he lied, and groaned inwardly. "No that's not true. Morgan. My name is Morgan. Old habits," he chuckled, removing the cigar from his lips and tapping the newly formed ash.

[Bakar]

I promise I'm not that scary..

"Bakar.." She spoke louder than usual, as the roar of the tavern picked up again. "Pleasure to meet you as well." It's not working.. she thought to herself, seeing the man tug at his collar. It was odd to see the larger man seem more nervous than the smaller girl. "It could just be the heat.." She whispered to herself, completely drowned out by the pollution of the tavern's noise.

Lying about one's name is a strange habit.. Bakar noted, studying the man again. With her relatively new reintroduction to the finer points of socialization, she wasn't very skilled at spotting things out of place, but that one was clear. You would only lie about your name if you didn't want to be found a second time, or whenever someone decided to drop that new name. You usually didn't want to be found if you were hiding from someone, or you were part of a crime... or going to be.

There was another tugging at her mind. She knew this from.. her previous life.. When she was alive? Yes. That was it. She didn't think of those times much anymore, Nuit are known for their great memories, but she had trouble thinking of a time before Nuit. Maybe it was because the memories were before she changed? Maybe she didn't really want to remember? She pushed the thoughts out of her head, and looked at the man again, carefully. He seemed friendly, then again, it was easy enough to lie.

"I simply came over to congratulate you on the dance, and to avoid the attentions of those men over there.. They were just making me uncomfortable. I-I figured if I was with someone else, people would be less likely to advance on me." She motioned to her old table, before returning her attention to the two in front of her, before stumbling forward, putting her hands onto the table to catch herself.

Her body was yelling at her that she couldn't stand any longer. She needed more time before she was at full strength again, as her mind was still unused to the body it now occupied. So, watching carefully, when the man stood at the next table over, she took his stool before someone else could, and placed it beside the girl, more comfortable with her back to the wall than the crowd, as well as wanting to study the man more than the girl.

Taking a closer look at the man, she thought about how he had reminded her of her.. condition, and no one confronted him about it. Maybe.. she would be safe to go out normally? Then she noticed something she had initially missed. Already searching for something to bring to the conversation, she spoke near without thinking.

"I must admit, Caliso, I know very little of dancing. Everyone seemed to enjoy yours especially, however. What do you do that is so appealing?" Bakar asked the girl. She was genuinely curious. What was it that made dancing so popular? What did everyone like so much about it? All it was, was... movement? She didn't speak these thoughts, so as not to offend more than she might have, but pondered them nonetheless.

[Nivel]

Nivel slipped under the thick door of the rearing stallion, and was soon overwhelmed by the sound of music and rowdy voices. Her original intention was to visit her friends Sayana and Orin but the pycon remembered that Orin was on a long trip to some strange continent and as she scanned the room she say no sign of the many armed dancer. Since nether of her friends seemed to be available, The pycon decided she would visit the old haunt anyway for old time sake. The noise, smells and people brought a tinge of excitement and nostalgia to the little creature as she weaved and tumbled through the lumbering forest of massive feet. She found a table near the front and with an out stretched hand she climbed the wooden table of lecherous looking men who were all too drunk to notice their new guest. There were a few empty copper mugs waiting for pick up by one of the servers and Nivel hid behind them so she wasn’t disturbed while she watched the new performers.

As she stayed nestled in her hiding place, she sensed an odd aura nearby. She peered through the tiny space between her beer mug castle and saw a porcelain skinned women had arrived at the table. It was clear she was a mage by the feeling of her aura..but there was something else that was off about the woman. Nivel didn’t know what it was but it wasn’t particularly unpleasant feeling, just different. She would have to investigate further but it would have to wait until the performances were done, so she could give it her full attention.

One particular performer almost instantly stuck out to Nivel, she was a female with a petite frame who’s dance moves were strikingly nimble and full of energy, almost like she was the embodiment of flame. It was a style of dance that very much suited the pycons needs and she hoped she could get some tips on how to add more vibrancy to her dance moves from her. The mysterious dancer stepped off stage and to the tiny pycon’s surprise started asking her audience for tips. Nivel assumed the women must have taken her craft very seriously and she admired her quest for self-improvement. What the women received instead was Mizas, Clearly there was a misunderstanding going on.

The dancer moved to her table and the porcelain woman was quick to offer her a gold miza. “Was this another tall folk tradition she was unaware of?” Nivel thought. The dancer was gone in a flash before Nivel could ask what was going on. She tried to ask the porcelain women but the drunken men scared her away with their overzealous complements. When the drunken idiots were distracted she ran down the table and leaped with a dynamic front somersault. She landed with a roll and quickly surveyed her very obscured surroundings. The bottom of a leather boot threatened to crush her flat as she looked to her left but she leaped out of the way just in time. The ground may have not been the best way to find them, but the aura of the porcelain girl was unique enough to track through the chaos.

She was lucky enough to find both of her targets introducing themselves to one another, there was even a third person added to the mix. It was hard to listen in the noisy tavern but she was still able to pick up their names, even from her low vantage point. Nivel pulled herself to the top of the dancers table, walked across the wooden surface and poked the women.
“Hello, My name is Nivel” The pycon said cheerfully in her uncharacteristically deep voice, she was tiny but she had little trouble being heard. “Sorry to interrupt but I’m also quite fond of your work. I know you asked for tips on how to improve your dancing but I might actually be in need of tips myself if your willing to watch me preform, I like to think of myself as a dancer but I’m not as good as you.” Nivel paused for a moment before pulling out a silver Miza that was wedged inside her belly “I’m not sure why everyone is giving you money but here you go” Nivel out stretched her arm towards the women. “Is it your birthday or something?”

She turned her attention over to Bakar. "Oh and you, Porcelain girl" She hesitated as she gathered her thoughts "I sense something different about you. what is it?" Nivel tried to sound as sincere as she could but it was still an odd and potentially rude question to ask. She just didn't know how else to address the subject in a polite way.

OocSorry for the extra long post, I just need to catch up.

Credit for Boxcode goes to Estrellir Konrath

[Bakar]

I promise I'm not that scary..

Movement caught Bakar's eye as something clamored to the top of the table. It was.. a small, brown, humanoid shaped.. thing. Bakar wasn't really sure what it was. It moved and talked with sentience though, so she prepared to show it some respect.

It addressed Callisto with a poke and a tip. It didn't seem to understand the concept of tip though, as it assumed she meant pointers for dancing, and the money some kind of gift. Apparently the small being was a dancer itself? She pictured how the small thing would dance, and smiled to herself. Cute.

As she was pondering what this feeling could be, the thing turned to her, calling her.. porcelain? It took Bakar a moment to realize why she called her such, before remembering her pale, pale skin. It was quiet for a moment, before speaking up again.

"I sense something different about you. What is it?"

Bakar was stunned by the sudden question. She was chilled, and could almost feel eyes turn on her. Had these two felt the same thing? Was it really so evident that something was different? Eyes, watching her. She could feel the entire group eyeing her. Pondering the same thing, now expecting an answer to a question they were too scared to ask their selves.

She had been in this situation before. But this time she could move. "E-excuse me? I-I'm sorry. I think you're mistaken. I-I need to go." She stood fast, and brushed her way through the crowd. Not even waiting for a response from the group she had met, she was gone. he pushed open the doors. Cooler air rushed against her face, and she left and walked home, not risking to steal a glance behind.

[Nivel]

It was clear right away that Nivel had deeply offended the porcelain girl by the way her eyes bulged in surprise. Before the pycon could apologize, the Nuit excused herself and headed for the door. Nivel tried to stop her but she disappeared out of the tavern before she could provide any kind of apology. The pycon excused herself as well from the others and jumped off the table and to the ground. Again she was trapped in the sea of stumbling drunken feet and it made catching up to the mysterious women next to impossible. When Nivel was finally able to slip under the door and find herself outside, there was no sign at all of her target.

The guilt that was now stirring in her nexus ruined any hope of her returning to the bar and talking with the dancer and the other man. She sulked down the streets towards her living quarters. Nivel hoped she would see the Porcelain girl again so she could clear up this misunderstanding.
OocI'm jumping ship with Bakar, sorry

Credit for Boxcode goes to Estrellir Konrath