Closed Pack Up

[Sloane]

16th of Fall, 517 AV

The Pridesun pavilion hadn't changed much since Sloane had seen it last, it was still as mismatched and diverse, people from all over Mizahar flocked together to survive and thrive. She made her way through the tents slowly, leading her horse, Heroka, along behind her. Neither drew much attention from those that they passed by, despite the fact that she carried every single belonging she owned with her, right down to her tent, strapped haphazardly across Heroka's yvas. Much had changed since the last time she'd been amongst the Pridesun a little more than two seasons ago now, well before her pregnancy had really begun to show and change her body.

Sloane stopped that train of thought quickly, pushing away even the slightest idea or memory that might lead her mind back to the child and the Firelash pavilion. Frowning, Sloane concentrated on the happenings around her instead, her wide blue eye's seeking out any available space large enough for her to set up camp. Instead, it was a familiar face she found, Sedon, his head bowed in concentration, his knife carving through a hefty shoulder of meat. Sloane paused, wondering if she should make her way over and greet him, or if she should continue on her way. Her decision was made for her as she finally took in the area around him.

There was a clear space a short distance to his left, the perfect size for Sloane to pitch her tent and rest her horse. That'll have to do. She thought to herself, her shoulders setting in determination as she finally made her way over. "Hello." She called to Sedon, her Pavi heavily accented. "You remember?" She asked as she came to a stop in front of the older man, her words slow and careful. The cook looked up from his work, and furrowed his brow at her for a long moment, thinking. Sloane hesitated, and wondered if perhaps she should have gone straight to the little clearing, and left him alone with his meat. Her uncertainty was relieved however, when Sedon's face seem to clear with sudden realisation, his meaty hands signing her an informal welcome. "Haven't seen you in a long time, eh?" He said by way of greeting, looking far more curious than Sloane liked. The young woman smiled tightly and nodded, adjusting the strap of her bag uncomfortably. "That space." She began, pointing it out for the older man, before swinging her arm back towards Heroka and indicating the mass of canvas strapped across her back. "I use?"

"I don't see why not." Sedon shrugged, now eyeing the woman's belongings with great curiosity. "No one else is." Sloane smiled at that, happy with what little of his answer she was able to piece together from her limited Pavi. Signing a simple thank you, she lead Heroka forward a few steps, before pausing, unable to help herself. "Hansel still here?" She asked, quiet and hesitant. She missed the man greatly, and a thrill of nervous energy slid up her spine as she wondered if Hansel had noticed her absence at all. He did, surely. She told herself, her gaze avoiding Sedon's. Whether or not he really cared though... That's harder to tell. "He is." Came Sedon's answer, as he pinned her with a knowing look. "He'll be back soon enough." Sloane nodded slowly, thanking him again and finally making her way to the small space, Heroka in toe.

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Konrad Venger]

Sometimes he didn't get what he wanted. More days than he did, in fact. At first, disappointment curdled and rankled in him. It came with curses in many languages, proof of an upbringing in a place where all the races came to corrupt themselves. Grass and dirt was kicked, snares were hurled away... only to be hunted back down and cleaned, of course. Then it became the way of things.

Because he also succeeded. Come the dawn, he'd find voles or rabbits, birds or mayhap a skinny coyote. Something furry and hungry that scented the bait he laid and came sniffing... and never left. Usually they were already dead, strangled of life as they struggled.

Other times, he sped them unto Dira, and Caiyha beyond her. That task hardly registered with him, such was his nature and his past... but the prayer he offered up afterwards, thanking that inscrutable, amoral Gren Goddess? That was new.

Things changed. Changed or adapted. Added the new and useful, shed the old and obsolete. He thought on that sometimes, usually late in the day when he had time to absently ponder. He even applied it to himself, and found to his surprise that it seemed to fit.

"Geddon wi' yeh, I didn't get anythin' t'day."

He swung a lazy arm at the bouncing black form that greeted him when he appeared from the tall grass. Dashiel avoided it easily, white teeth a brilliant slash of color against his coal skin. Konrad scowled but, like the blow before it, there was no malice nor intent in the gesture. It was for the sake of the thing, the image they both expected.

"Tomorrow?"

"Mebbe."

"Lady come pavilion. To stay."

The Chaktawe's orphan's Pavi may have been coming along slower than Konrad's, but he got enough of it to roll his eyes. He muttered something about "every stray dog in the city" but Dashiel just frowned as he trailed in his wake. Dogs? There weren't any dogs. Most of them had been eaten by now, drought and resultant famine doing for sentiment where canines were concerned.

If they couldn't hunt and couldn't be vouched for, onto the spit they went.

"Probably took that empty space by the trough, eh?"

"Trough?"

"Water. Horses." Konrad mimed big and long with his hands until the boy nodded. "Hmph. Thought so. Hope she doesn't mind the smell."

"She is not dog."

"Why would... forget it."

There was no losing the little shyke that morning, that much he knew. Not until Sedon found some duties for him, chores and training that was called the former and never the latter. Konrad was watchful enough to see the older man take a shine to Dashiel. Like the rest, he'd been surprised that one so young and skinny could survive so well on his own. He could track and even hunt a little, cook a meal and when it came to water... well, Konrad was learning new things every season, out away from Sunberth.

Like the desert folk, the Sand Children, who could drink once a week and never sweat a drop. Dashiel was one of them, or had been. He was an outcast, an orphan, family gone, people scattered. So to the Pridesun he'd come, when they found him half-dead in the grasslands.

Just like you.

"Dun' 'ave time t'train youse yet," he said as he walked, not facing his front as he approached the circle of tents and yurts that made up the Pridesun section of Endrykas. "Go back t'Sedon, see what 'e wants from ye this morn. Once yer done - an' only den - youse-"

"Ah, well, speak of the Evil!"

Konrad turned and saw but not the speaker. He knew the voice, and could see Sedon's smile nestled in his beard... out the corner of his eye. He saw Yacob and that fierce woman Seaph, who was most definitely not interested in him... as some vague blobs at the edge of his vision. There were others, and horses and tents and a cooking fire and... things.

Konrad knew they were there, but didn't see them. He saw her, and he felt like a fool for seeing nothing else.

She'd changed. Grown harder, if not older. He could see it in the grim lines on her face. Suffering etched those, that he knew better than most. His mouth opened a touch, then snapped back shut. His jaw clenched under his beard... a beard... he'd changed, he realized. Since they last met, which was... gods, half a year ago.

You're bigger. More muscle on your bones, not just meat. And a carpet nailed to your chin, of course. Hair longer, still wearing that hat-

He ground his teeth so hard Dashiel winced next to him. The scarred man was not happy. He didn't understand why. The blonde woman was pretty, spoke with a voice like the Bush Doves of the desert he remembered, and she was even smiling at him... but he did not smile back.

Dashiel was young, but not stupid. He saw a man building walls, putting up shields. Hiding something behind a stoic mask, falling across his face brick by brick. Finally he kept on walking, the same path, unchanged and inexorable.

"Hansel, I'm sure you remember-"

"I'm busy."

Sedon may have known something of the pair, enough not to press, but Yacob did not. All he saw was more damned impudence and rudeness from that damned rude and impudent walahk.

"You know our rule, Hansel," he said as the man walked past, eyes fixed resolutely ahead. "We turn no-one away. We are a home for outcasts."

Any other day he would not have prompted an argument. This was decidedly not the case. Konrad tossed his bow and quiver into a pile outside his tent and turned to face the frowning young de facto ankal of the Pridesuns.

"When Jonas was in charge. He's gone."

"And the one good thing he ever did was let us take in people who had nowhere else to go. This woman comes to us looking for shelter. We will give it to her. Like all others, she will help, in any way she can. And we will help her."

Konrad's lips curled in rank, undisguised disgust. He couldn't believe the boy could be so... so... stupid. So there had to be an angle, a reason, a gain for him in presenting himself as some messiah of the downtrodden. His mind was so rattled and frazzled with the sight of her again, looking so lost and alone, that he didn't think beyond his contempt. He opened his mouth with a hand sliding towards a weapon, any weapon-

"Yacob!" A hand thumped down on the young Drykas' shoulder and he whirled, finding Sedon's face right behind him. "Need your help with something. Can't wait, I'm afraid. About the newcomer...?"

Yacob looked back to her and Sedon used the opening to shoot Konrad a look that could have melted iron. The walahk saw the message in it: do not petch this up by being you, you moron. Just get into your tent and simmer down.

Bastard's right. Time for a quick exit.

"I... yes, I'll be right there."

When Yacob turned back to Hansel, he found only a swaying tent flap, and the silhouette of a man inside it. He shook his head. Just when he thought the man was turning a corner, that he was starting to shed that hateful exterior... he did something like that. It saddened him, angered him, and he realized that he couldn't suffer it for much longer.

Poor girl didn't even speak to him, for Zulrav's sake.

Sedon led the way. Yacob listened to what she needed. Konrad heard nothing but a muted babble, laying back on his bedroll and willing his memories to die. At least until time enough had gone by for him to get to Yeh Bugger, sneak out of the pavilion, and not come back for a night or two.

Then, maybe, he'd wrap his head around this shyke.

[Sloane]

Heroka drank deeply from the trough as Sloane worked to untie her tent and the bags from the yvas, doing her best to ignore the various lingering aches and pains that came with childbirth. She was pulling the last bag free from it's buckle when Sedon called out once again, his words catching Sloane's attention immediately. She dropped the bag without care, turning quickly to fix eye's on the man she'd not so subtly been waiting for. A soft, appreciative smile spread across her face as Sloane took in the sight of him, so different from what she remembered. Hansel looked far healthier than he had when they'd first met, and more at ease, like he had just as much right to live and work in Endrykas as any bonded Drykas did. Sloane envied him that more than anything.

When her gaze finally made it's way back to the hunters face, her smile faltered and faded, disappointed but not particularly surprised to find a look of loathing glaring back at her for a moment before he continue on his way, his gaze swinging away like she'd never been there in the first place. A boy followed after him, his large eye's full of curiosity as he eye'd the newcomer, and Sloane turned away from him, not wanting any of them to see the forlorn and crestfallen look painted clear across her face. She fiddled with Heroka's yvas and watched from the corner of her eye as the young Pridesun leader confronted Hansel, winching as the older man threw down his bow angrily. She didn't know what to think about Yacob, past seasons had made her wary of those she didn't know, and so she'd held back when he'd greeted her and inquired after her purpose in joining the pavilion. She'd told him only what he'd asked, her words blunt and to the point, leaving no room for misunderstanding or speculation.

To her relief, Sedon stepped in before things could escalate, and Sloane averted her gaze as Yacob and his companion glanced in her direction, finally undoing the last buckle to pull the yvas from Heroka and drop it with her bags. The horse snorted happily as Sloane rubbed her small hands over her back, giving her a good scratch as thank for her part in carrying the tent and belongings. She turned when Yacob and Sedon finally approached her, her expression carefully controlled to show nothing but polite respect as she accepted their help in setting up her tent.

With their help in was a quick job, and far simpler than it would have been if she'd had to figure it out on their own. She thanked them both, and ensured then that she could handle setting up the rest of her belongings on her own. When they'd both left she made her way past her tent, quickly covering the short distance to Hansel's. Outside she paused, suddenly uncertain and second-guessing herself. Should I bother? She wondered, gnawing at her lip subconsciously. Will anything I say really matter to him anyway? Does he even care anymore!? Sloane furrowed her brow and took a deep, steadying breath, pushing such self pitying thoughts away as she reached out and snatched up the tent flap."Hansel." She called out, her voice firm, giving the man a moment before she ducked inside. The young woman did her best to keep her face firm when her gaze finally found him, but her eye's gave her away, the deep blue orbs betraying the lonesome sadness and hurt that she felt. "I'm sorry I came here." She began, her gaze falling away from him and focusing instead on the canvas wall to her right, her arms crossing securely over her chest. "But there's no where else I can go, so you'll just have to put up with me." Sloane swallowed, suddenly at a loss of words. She stood frozen for a long moment, her gaze going unfocused as she waited for him to say or do something. Finally, her arms dropped and she turned towards him, insecure and uncertain as she dropped her guard, but for a moment. "I'm sorry. I missed you."

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Konrad Venger]

He was almost ready. So close to sliding out of his tent and vanishing. He'd had time to ponder, and decided Yeh Bugger would be fine where he was. Besides, it wasn't really speed of transport that was a priority for him; it was more just getting out and staying out.

Head over to the Barrel, maybe, he mused, licking his lips and remembering that home-brewed ale. Good a place as any to-

"Hansel."

"... shyke."

Maybe she'd just stay behind the flap. He could see her slip silhouette beyond it, stooped down to speak to a hunk of fabric. But he didn't say a word back. What was there to say, after all? No, better not to say anything. Even when she lifted the flap and he saw her, eyes as bright as they'd been when they first met and last departed, Konrad was determined to keep his mouth shut.

Nothing to sell me, lady. So I ain't gonna-

"I'm sorry I came here."

"Still came, though, dintcha?"

He sat up, arms tensed across his knees, shoulders hunched like some rough old hound that didn't like people getting too close. Petch it, what did he have to lose? Nothing he hadn't lost before, and regained. Hells, it was worth talking just because he could use Common with her, not that Pavi blather. He glared at her, shade of his hat not hiding the fire in his eyes now, pouring out like molten jade.

"Dint work out where y'were, so on y'moved. Smart girl."

"But there's no where else I can go, so you'll just have to put up with me."

Damn her, but he couldn't help but admire what he'd first seen in her. That she was alone, frightened, every night afraid for the black, uncertain maw that was here future... and yet, she conquered her fear. She didn't bury it like it didn't exist, she let it show on her face and her big, guileless eyes... and then she crossed her arms and kicked some gravel into her tone, and she dealt with it.

Dealt with him. Because she wasn't afraid of him.

"I'm sorry. I missed you."

Something tried to claw it's way out of Konrad. It had been growing like a tumor, like a cancer, the whole time he'd been in Endrykas. Most days he couldn't even look at it, because he didn't have the words to describe what it was. But now it was trying to climb up his throat and speak words he couldn't process through his mind. He clamped down on it. Beat it back and lurched forward, forcing her back as he shuffled out of his tent, rose up to his full height, and squared his hat on his head.

Then he looked down on her, shade across his face like a mask. Killing whatever it was that had been trying to free itself.

"I did not miss you."

He spoke very slowly, and very clearly, then he walked away from her.

Don't Make Me Repeat Myself.

[Sloane]

Sloane eye'd Hansel as he sat up, keeping her place by the tent's entrance. Not for the first time, she wished she could have gone back to their last meeting - what was it, two seasons ago? She could have chosen differently, she could have run, to Riverfall perhaps, Hansel may have even come with her. She could have done anything, but instead she'd returned to the pavilion. Even there she'd put her trust in those she shouldn't have, women and men who'd played at being her friend, only to confine her to the pavilion and later take her child from her, without even the chance to learn it's gender, or give it a name. Her chest clenched and despair coiled within her to think that Hansel would join their ranks and turn his back on her, just when she was most in need of his support, of his company if not friendship.

He stood suddenly, and Sloane hurried back and out through the tent flap, moving quickly lest he knock into her. She hadn't expected him to say anything, and so when he did turn back to face her it took a long moment to process his words, said so calmly they hurt all the more. Sloane suppressed a flinch, her gaze falling away to her feet. She watched his boots as Hansel turned away, and Sloane took a moment to get control of herself, drawing in a deep breath and holding it. What the hell did I expect? She scolded herself, rubbing roughly at her face. As if he's ever been anything other than emotionally petched? When she finally looked up again, Hansel was walking away. "Really!?" Sloane growled, marching after him, hurrying to catch up with his long strides. "Gods, I already knew you were a prick, but I never took you for a coward!" She snapped, pushing down the hurt and letting irritated rage take it's place. "If you can't solve it with a blade, just run away, huh?"

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Konrad Venger]

He was feeling pretty damn good about himself, if truth be told. Even managed to curl up the scarred half of his face into a smirk... that was hard to notice, really, considering the damage, but it was there. She didn't get to come back into his world and act like she'd done jack shit. No bloody way was that going to happen. So, now she was put in her place and would leave him the hells-

"Really!?"

Crap.

"Get away from me," he snarled without slowing, even as she hopped up and around to him like some bird around a big, lumbering beast of the plains. "Aincha' got shyke t'do?"

"Gods, I already knew you were a prick, but I never took you for a coward!"

That would have got him to stop, in the days before. Hells, in the years before, it would have warranted a fist to her mouth and teeth flying through the air. Konrad was quite the believer in equality when it came to receivers of his violence. But time ground away at him, time here, among these people, and instead he just fixed her with a look that could have cut her throat all by itself.

"Best y'got, is it?" He sneered, contempt of the moment doing it's best to destroy the few good memories they had together. "Pokin' at me prick, like y'would these horse-petchin' wankers? Get done, a'fore y'bore me."

He was making a scene. Well, technically, they were making a scene, but Konrad knew she wouldn't be the one getting the sharp end of things later on. Oh, no, he was the one hunting, he was the one magicking water into the 'skins, he was the one that fought with them when crazed animals tried to savage their pavilion... but come that night, Hansel would be the Bad Guy, and Sloane would be the Poor Wounded Female.

Hardly even surprising anymore.

"If you can't solve it with a blade, just run away, huh?"

There was a low, slithering sound, like a snake chuckling through the grass. Konrad let his head roll back as he laughed, pausing just at the edge of the Pridesun enclosure. He turned to the woman, all radiant anger and hurt pouring from her eyes. At the very sight of it, that mirth blackened. Poisoned. Soured into something very close to hate.

"An' if youse can't whine an' cry an' beg a man t'yer way a'thinkin', he's a coward, dat right? Jus' cuz he don' want shyke t'do with ya anymore?"

He snorted, and there was no humor in it. As he spoke his words seemed like logs on a fire inside him, each one transforming his tone from mocking and angry without him even realizing it. By the time he finished, he saw her again, under that wagon, surrounded by buzzards and bodies, and he remembered the other survivor he'd found that day. What he did to him, because, well... why not?

"Day I found you, I should've-"

His words stalled. Tongue chained by that nameless thing. And as he teetered between cruel rebuke and silence, in that fracture moment she could see the hurt lurking behind his eyes. An anger that came not from being wronged, or cheated, but being betrayed.

You had to trust before you could be betrayed. You had to care before you let someone hurt you just by not being there.

"... jus' petch off, girl," he finally said, words coming out with a sigh and a wave of his hand. "Ain't inna' moode fer yer games."

Then he pushed past and kept walking. Yacob watched it all and slid next to the woman, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He spoke calm words to her, soothing words, whatever he could think of. He made a note to ask Sedon why the hells Hansel was in such a foul mood with her, but for now, he had a new arrival to settle.

The watcher was being watched, too. Sedon noticed all, and scratched his beard worriedly as Hansel stalked away. The wound was still fresh, even if the man didn't want to admit it. He sighed, shook his head, wondering if there was ever an age limit for when a woman could cleave a man's heart. Apparently not.

The hat grew smaller, bobbing away into Endrykas, and Sedon swore softly to himself.

"Dash?" He muttered, wiping off his hands swiftly and getting the little black boy's attention. "Keep an eye on the stew, need to duck out for a moment."

The Chaktawe nodded, surprised yet honored that the cook was trusting him with his precious food, their meal for the evening. But before he could ask why, or what he'd done to deserve it, the Drykas was gone.

Don't Make Me Repeat Myself.

[Sloane]

Sloane's eye's narrowed as Hansel laughed, knowing full well that something cruel and nasty was about to be thrown back at her. She wasn't surprised, in fact she fully expected it, it was the reason she'd said what she had. She knew that she could provoke a reaction from him, and she preferred to spit insults back and forth rather than let him walk away to stew without a word. She returned Hansel's glare steadily as he spoke, it was only when his words faltered and she saw hurt and pain to mirror her own that her angry, indifferent mask broke. She didn't move, couldn't find any words to call out after him as he left. Sloane felt as though the wind had been taken out of her sails, leaving her feeling sad and small, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her tent and block out the rest of the world.

A hand touched her shoulder and Sloane jumped, shrugging it off automatically, and turning to find Yacob looking down at her, his eye's filled with pity. She didn't pay any attention as Yacob spoke to her, instead she let her gaze slid back in the direction Hansel had gone. The words didn't seem to matter in any case, as the tone reminded Sloane of one used to soothe frightened animals and spooked horses. The mere idea of it caused her to rebel, a fresh flame of determination entering her eye as she straightened from her slump. I am not a sad little thing that needs to be soothed. She thought, turning a sharp, assessing look on Yacob, clearly waiting for him to get to the point.

"We can move your tent. Somewhere further away, so you won't have to cross paths with him as often." He offered, and Sloane's brows furrowed in confusion. "What? No that's not what I wan--" She broke off, shaking her head as she realized that Yacob could hardly understand a thing she was saying. "Thank you, no. Fine here. Happy here." Yacob quirked a brow at that, as clearly that as not the current case, but Sloane refused to back down. "I fine now. No need help." She said, her words a touch more confident as she watched in relief as Sedon slipped off into the tent city after Hansel. "I ask boy if I need." She said finally, pointing to then young boy now carefully tending to the evening meal.

Yacob didn't seem particularly pleased by her words, or by her refusal of his help, but he stepped back anyway, a look of concern painted across his face. "Alright, but the offer remains if you change your mind, or if you need anything." He finished, pining the young woman with a pointed look before finally, he turned and left, leaving to tend to other issues amongst the Pridesun pavilion. Relieved that she way finally left in peace, Sloane made her way slowly to her new camp site, taking her time as she began to unpack her meager belongings. As she worked, she kept a watchful eye out for Hansel and Sedon's return, a vigil she would keep all night if she had to. She wasn't about to leave things as they were.

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Konrad Venger]

"Well, that was bloody outstanding back there, Hans, m'boy."

"Oh, for shyke's..."

He'd almost made it. Got all the way into Baultime's Barrel, studiously ignored the glare the owner gave him, got all the way to his table and was inches, mere inches from swallowing his first mouthful of that ale. Then something portly and stinking vaguely of animal guts plonked down next to him, and Konrad sighed.

The surface of the ale rippled like a lake struck by a breeze. Then Sedon started up in earnest.

"I gotta hand it to you, lad, you really know how to hold a grudge."

"I am not in the mood for this, Sedon."

The Dryas paused long enough for the younger man to take a drink. His tone was... well, it wasn't exactly welcoming a discussion. It came out breathy, as if exhausted, drained and bereft of anything resembling patience. Sedon may have been Endrykas born and bred, but he'd seen life beyond the grasslands. He'd seen taverns and watering holes and inns. The men who looked like Konrad, propped up on a stool and slowly stewing in cheap, strong alcohol.

One bad word away from violence they didn't care about inflicting. Because they felt the world had pushed them too far and far enough, and anymore of that shyke would result in consequences.

So why are you here, old man? Why do you care about this asshole?

"Something to drink, sir?"

"Cup of what my friend's having, love."

Konrad snorted into his mug as the hostess strolled away.

"We're friends?"

"Gods, but you're an ornery bastard today, aren't you?" He was answered by a look that could have melted glass, and managed something like a smile in response. Tried to inject courage into it he didn't feel. "Of course we're friends, lad. What do you think we are, after all this time?"

"Two men that live in the same pavilion." The mug smacked down hard onto the table, upside down. Old Sunberth tradition. He hoped the hostess took the hint and set him up with another. "Doesn't mean shyke."

"It does out here. Means we live together, hunt together, work together. Especially in the Pridesun. Pretty much none of us are blood-kin, just outcasts looking for a home."

"Ah, so that's it," Konrad said, voice so thick with sarcasm Sedon was surprised he didn't choke. "I need to let her have a home, right? Forgive and forget? Be nice to her?"

"If only for practicality's sake... ah, thank you, m'love."

Gods, I knew he'd try and put the moves on her.

Two more mugs, and Sedon allowed himself a pause to shamelessly oggle the delightfully well-formed buttocks sashaying away from him before he took a sip. In the time it took for him to do that, Konrad finished his mug, and Sedon's lecherous smile faded.

Not a good sign.

Thunk

Upside down it went, and somewhat harder than before. Konrad was already on the way to getting shit-faced, and Sedon didn't even want to think about what this place would look like after a man capable of such violence had all his inhibitions removed by alcohol. Instead he licked his lips and plowed on, sticking to his plan.

Such as it is.

"You're a practical man, Hansel. Sensible. Yeah, I know blokes like you don't look that way, all big and bad and grisly... but you are. You're not an idiot. You knew you had to make a go of it with us, so you kept a tight rein on yourself."

"Making me sound like an animal is not a good idea at this time, Sedon."

He actually sounded more threatening using that clipped, proper Pavi he'd been learning for almost a year. Guttural, slang-filled Common seemed to fit that face; Zulrav's Pavi was just... strange. Almost sinister.

"Not an animal. Just... someone who knew when to act like something he wasn't. Maybe along the way, you started to forget you were acting."

Konrad stared at him so tight and hotly that he didn't even react when the third mug was brought over. Sedon knew that he'd either get a silent denial, mocking laughter, or violence. Only one of the three would lead anywhere good. Finally, the walahk just snorted, tried to sneer, and went back to his booze.

"Don't ever think you know me, old man. You've no idea."

"I can make a guess or three."

"Good for you, now petch off."

Up the wooden mug went, draining the whole measure in a long, guzzling gulp that spoke of a man well-seasoned in drinking, addiction, and self-destruction. The hostess blinked rapidly as the mug was slammed down again. More people were watching now. Whispering. Glaring. Any one of them could be the trigger Hansel needed to-

"Her husband died. Did you know that?"

Hansel froze. Didn't look at him, but blinked quickly a few times. That wouldn't last, and Sedon leaned forwards, voice low.

"The fevers last season? Took a couple of our elders? They did a worse number on that pavilion. Enough to kill even a strong man like Haigen. Enough that they took her baby the moment it was born, and she never saw it again. Once Haigen was gone, she had no reason to be there, so... they cut her loose. Gave her the horse and what she'd need for a season, and that was it."

Now the man turned. Slowly. Like a statue come to life, face just as immobile... save for eyes roiling with quiet, simmering fury.

"That how you treat your people? Toss them out when they do not have any use?"

"She wanted out anyway, and you know it. They figured it'd be too much trouble, finding her another husband. It's rare, but it happens. In the old days, they'd just... wander. Lost. Living on the outskirts in solitary tents until they either left, or died, or grew old and faded away."

Sedon tipped back his mug until it was empty, and slammed it down next to Konrad's. When the walahk's refill arrived, he dared to be as brave as he was able-

-and pressed his hand over the top of it, just as Konrad got a good grip.

It was like slapping a tiger. Every hair on Konrad's body stood on end. His eyes went from molten to utterly icy, but he could see the fires weren't out. They were just chained. Tamed and focused behind a shield of sub-zero indifference to the concept of human life. Sedon gulped, and let his fear show.

To the tiger, that would have been the final straw. But this was his friend. If this was the only way to prove it, then this was how it had to be.

"Until Jonas and the Pridesun. I'm not going to sit here and feed you shyke about how anything that bastard did was good, not in the long run... but he made us a haven for people like her. That were ill-used or abandoned or tried and tried and still didn't get ahead. These days, you can come to us, and we'll add you to our ranks, because who the petch are we to judge? We're all outcasts now. After what happened to Jonas..."

He took his hand away, and he stood up. More words weren't going to make his point any better, even as he furiously tried to drum up some more before he left. Konrad didn't look up as he stood. Just stared into his ale and waited.

"That means we aren't so quick to judge, Hansel. Because we've all got a story. All got our reasons. Maybe you should try talking to her before you throw away the one woman in this place who gives two shykes about you."

Go out with a bang, Sedon thought as he turned away, paying for both his and the walahk's drinks as he went. Konrad watched him go, eyes still sparking. He stared into his mug, long after the Pridesun left him alone with his story, his spiel, his excuses, and a truth he didn't want to look at.

Years and their darkness told him he couldn't trust her, not to be... not like him. The world was cruel and unfair and it would take and take without ever giving back. People were the same. Dress it up in different races, cultures, cities, places, it all came down to the same.

The weak got chewed up by the strong. The smart fleeced the stupid. Killers made the rules, and even governments were just Sunberth syndicates with fancy titles and deeper pockets.

Konrad knew that. He'd seen it. He'd lived it.

He'd seen her look at him with no guile in her eyes, too. Made her laugh and laughed with her and wanted her to say his name. His real name. Not the mask he'd hid behind for a whole year. She'd learned from him, and that was as far as he thought her interest went... but she kept coming back. Sometimes not to learn. To just sit and talk wit him. Be close to him.

That didn't happen in his world. Not to men like him. Not from a young woman smart and strong enough to be literally anywhere else. But it did, and he'd lived that as sure as he had the darkness.

"Want me to bring another over, sir?"

The voice came in from far away. Honeyed Pavi from the hostess. He looked up and the woman had worry etched on her face. She knew a hard drinker when she saw one... and one likely to cause trouble. Konrad saw and understood all this, but it didn't seem to matter. It was a hind-brain thought process, where the rest of it was charting new territory he barely had language for.

He held up the mug, and toasted her... and since he'd paid for it, he downed the fiery brew... and handed it back to her. Like the man he'd acted for a year.

"Water. No more ale."

She looked relieved, and Konrad dared a smile that was sadder than he wanted it to be. She walked away, a little more lively in her step now disaster had (in her mind) been averted, and Konrad huffed out a sigh. Took of his hat. Got comfortable, and tried to remember where he could piss.

He didn't want to talk to her reeking of booze, and would be a while sobering up.

[Sloane]

There was only so much time that could be wasted, and finally Sloane found herself at a loss. Her belongings were neatly packed away and Heroka was settled and fed, leaving her with little else to occupy herself with. Sighing, she made her way over to the fire, watching the boy with half-hearted interest for a moment, before letting her gaze go unfocused, staring out at the grasslands beyond the city. She'd grown as comfortable as was possible here amongst the Drykas, familiar with their customs and ways of life. And yet, each time she'd begun to feel as though she had found a niche for herself, a home, things would all but implode, as if to prove that she really knew nothing about life on the plains at all.

A figure caught her eye, and Sloane whirled around so quickly that her neck twinged in protest. Sedon made his way towards her at a leisurely pace, and Sloane deflated somewhat, rubbing at the ache in her neck as she fought back a pout. "Where Han?" She called out the moment Sedon had drawn close enough to hear, rising and closing the distance quickly, far to impatient to wait for him to stroll over. "He okay? I go see!" Sedon chuckled, holding his hands up to stop the rush of words from the blonde, clearly embracing his role as mediator between the two. "Slow down there, he's fine. Out of all of us I think he's the last you need to worry about." Sedon dropped his hand to her shoulder, patting her comfortingly. "Relax. He'll be back soon enough, just give him time."

Sloane frowned after the cook as he left her, making his way instead over to his little assistant. It took her a moment to process and translate the words, and when she finally had her frown only deepened. He hadn't reassured her at all, Sloane wanted to know where he was and what he was doing, as without that knowledge all that was left was worry and a unsettled gut feeling. Rubbing her hands across her face roughly, Sloane agonised over what to do. Perhaps Sedon would tell her with a little cajoling. In fact, Sloane was almost certain she'd be able to get the information out of him if she had too, men like Sedon were fairly easy to influence. Once she knew where he was she could go to him, make sure that the foul mood that she caused wasn't about to get him in danger.

But what would she do if she didn't find him though? If she went out to find him just as he made his way back, and she was left wandering around the tent city looking for a man who had already returned to his pavilion. And no doubt that would make things worse, if he arrived back to find her missing. He had a talent for taking things the worst possible way, and she doubted her absence would be an exception. Grumbling in frustration, Sloane sat, angled in the direction Hansel had gone, her head set on her knees. She chewed at a hangnail anxiously, worrying over Hansel's unknown fate and whereabouts. That prick better not get into any serious shite. She thought to herself, eyebrows furrowing as she pictured Hansel doing something completely ridiculous; picking a fight with an entire Pavilion, or wrestling a Glassbeak perhaps. Shaking her head, Sloane pushed away the ridiculous images. Gods, I hope he get's back soon.

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Konrad Venger]

He could walk in a straight line and his mouth felt a little less like Yeh Bugger's arse, so he supposed that was good enough. Even better was that he didn't linger too long on what a horse's arse would taste like, intent as he was on what he would say when he got back.

She'll be there, he thought as he trudged through Endrykas by nightfall. She's never one to...

Run away. He didn't finish the thought but even in his mind, he didn't need to. Hadn't that been exactly what she'd done? Run from him, and then from the pavilion she'd taken up with? Try as he might, Konrad kept coming up with the same, bitter answer: that Sloane had vanished when it suited her, and not even bothered to give him a proper farewell.

"An' since wehen wuz you wurf such a luxury?" He muttered in Common as he passed a couple of ambling Drykas, who peered queerly as the smelly walahk marching by. "Wunt y'have done the same?"

He knew tha answer to that one, too, and Sedon's words came back to him. He'd been Konrad Venger, reaver and sellsword and killer for any bastard with coin. Been. Was. No longer. Here he was "Hansel", an enigmatic refugee that was whispered about and gossiped over, revealing nothing save for his skill with mortal disciplines.

You changed, he dared say to himself, gulping as he felt the truth in the trite words. You had to, even if you didn't want to. And now... is this so bad? Were you so much better in Kenash? Back home?

He turned the corner, and lit by the campfire was the one that had set his mind wandering and reeling all night. They saw each other in the same moment. The one, huddled by the fire even though the night was but cool. The other, tall and shrouded in darkness and gloom and, of course, the hat he seemed to take everywhere. Man and woman froze, regarding each other...

Konrad's chest heaved. Well, too late to run, at any rate.

He didn't speak as he approached. Didn't raise a hand or tip his hat. Just crunched his way across grass and dirt, avoiding a few lumps of errant horse apples, until he was by the fire. He stared down at the woman, face set in his customary glower, light from the flames not giving his features anywhere to hide. He seemed to be pondering, warring with himself, fingers tapping a tattoo against the hilt of his kopis as she'd noticed they did when he was restless.

Finally, he sat by the fire. Not opposite her, as far away as he could get. But not next to her, either. The middle distance was where he placed his arse, and he hunched over, warming his hands for something to do, if nothing else.

Twigs and logs crackled. Kindling burnt bright and sent showers of sparks upward along with flame and smoke. For chimes this was all the sound that passed around them. Konrad knew that Endrykas, like any other city, never really slept. There was always someone watching, or listening, or both.

Probably that little black bugger.

"Sure but yeh've settled in a'right," he said, not bothering with any preamble, as befit a man disdainful of custom. He jutted his chin briefly at the tent she'd knocked up, her scarce possession packed away inside. "Man who used t'be dere died wit' the fevers last season."

He paused. Looking into the fire. Weighing his words and their import and if he should even say them. They were tricky things. Daggers and swords were much... easier.

"Hope y'don't go the same way," he said finally, words almost a mumble, refusing to look anywhere but the fire. "Be a... we could use e'ryone we can get, ye ken? More bodies, more hands, more food. That kinda thing..."

His hands started patting pockets, hunting for his pipe and baccy. For an errant moment he wished he had a mug of bloody ale to hand, but the grassland fodder he'd been puffing on would have to suffice.