River of Stars - Act 2


 * Whitehaven - Light's Reach


 * Known locally as the "Grand Exchange", Whitehaven is considered to be the central-most district of the city of Light's Reach, being little more of unique interest than a collision of overspill from the Noble District of Starmantle to the north, and the Freelander District of Redwater to the south.


 * Thus it is not uncommon to see red-brick and flax-stone estates across from half-timber and white-stucco townhouses, with minor Nobles forced to endure living as neighbors to successful merchants. The social divide is still quite obvious, but suffering the injustice of having to live in a mansion across the road from a family of Freelanders is often considered worth it to by most just to say that they live in Light's Reach.


 * It is the middle of the district from which the term "Grand Exchange" comes, however, for it is here that a large ring-road can be found surrounding the rebuilt Mikin Hall, connecting to the main through-fares that runs from the districts to the north, east, and south. It is around this ring-road that the Whitehaven Stables can be found, as well as the Interdistrict Carriage Hub and the headquarters for the Fastheld Courier Service's cavalry and distribution network.


 * The road heads up a gentle slope as it heads west towards Dawnstar Keep, ascending to the elevated western rise upon which the Keep, the Temple of the White Dragon, and the Southern Aria reside.

A few stray people wander through Whitehaven this evening, looking distinctly chilly as they clutch cloaks tight about them and shiver about on their merry way. Leaning against the red-and-white stucco side of a building, Zia ignores them, gazing listlessly into nowhere, lost in thought.

And Meian is one of them, entirely devoid of her normal self-possession in face of the cold, shivering uncontrollably even with cloak draped around herself. She's moving by, quickly headed south, perhaps in search of somewhere warm.

Muri, on the other hand, wanders in from the west, her cloak hood set on her shoulders and her backpack straps slung over one shoulder. She seems happy over all and watches the crowd in half interest as she heads to ward the stables.

Zia blinks as a slight (but not uncommon) disturbance ripples through the people at the mage's appearance, and then again at the mage herself. When has she seen Meian shiver before? She lifts a hand to wave and call out something to the effect of "Hello", not yet having seen Muri.

"H-hello," Meian calls softly, her stutter thickened by chattering teeth. She draws her little frame up a bit taller and adds, more loudly, "W-why don't you c-come in out of the c-cold? It's *freezing* t-today.."

A large man and two others pass Muri on fast feet and jostle her roughly. "Out of our way, peasant!" he snarls to the freeholder. Muri spins at the force of the man's push and stumbles on a loose cobblestone. "Aye me!" she says. "Me pardon." She blinks and looks around as the trio continues to shove people out of their way down the path.

"Freezing?" Zia echoes, and thinks about it a minute. "Aye, I s'pose it is, isn't it?" She grins at the twist of normal events, and starts in Meian's direction. "You're cold, aren't you?" she asks lightly. "I thought you didn't get cold." And then she stops as the three proceed to push through the crowd, causing disturbances and irritated squeals here and there. Recognizing Muri, she pauses half-way towards Meian and hesitates on the brink of changing her direction towards friend-the-second.

Muri's just been pushed over by a trio of men, and Meian's headed southward - shivering. "I d-don't get cold," sighs Meian, rubbing at her arms. "U-usually. ...Anywhere b-but in Light's R-reach." And her attention too travels to the three men, the girl floating after them seemingly casually, though she moves rather quick. "...E-excuse me, good masters. D-did you just c-call Mistress Woodhill a p-peasant?"

A group of ten Torchbearers clad in iron mail armour, and led by a soldier clad in segmented plate, move through the Exchange District in double file. Lucius, the aformentioned man in plate, is at the front of the group, while the man next to him carriers the Torchbearer's standard on a cross-pole.

Confused and worried, Muri sits on the cold cobblestones rubbing her knee, her backpack on the ground nearby. Others glance at her as they pass, but mostly they try to stay away from the trio who step down the path at a quick pace to the west. The last man of the three turns sharply toward Meian, his face hard. "This isn't any of your concern, girl," he growls. Then he turns to catch up with the others. Hearing Meian's voice, she turns her head toward the woman. "Missus Meian?"

Zia gives a distracted nod Meian's way, remembering about Light's Reach, but her attention is mostly elsewhere now. While Meian administers to the trio, Zia starts off in Muri's direction. "You all right?" she asks, reaching down to offer a hand up, and glancing worriedly over her shoulder towards Meian's confrontation with the three. Just from the way things are going so far, it doesn't look promising.

Meian tugs her hood back, unveiling her face to smile so slightly, calmly at the man when he looks her way. "Just to correct your terminology," she says, voice suddenly smooth and clear, "She is a Freelander woman of the same worth as you- or more, I should deign to say. Do remember people's legal rights and standings... because if might makes right, I should not want to be in your shoes right now." An absent tap of her cheek with one finger, touching just on her mage's mark.

Coincidentally (because how else would it be?), the Torchbearers marching are moving directly towards the gathering of people. The weather's not exactly condusive to large gatherings that normally frequent the exchange district, which seems to facilitate the ease of their march. They move in step, disciplined.

The man, pockmarked and scarred, whistles sharply and the other two stop in their tracks. Grey, watery eyes, cold as ice turn to Meian. His face pales slightly and he shifts uncomfortably at the sight of the Mark. He glances at his companions, the larger of whom looks impatient. "Nothing can you do here, Marked one," he snorts with contempt.

The clatter of armor becomes louder and the three turn as one toward the sound of the soldiers. "Scatter," the large one hisses and he moves with remarkable speed to the north, the second eastward, the third hesitates, shifting his body toward the north.

Muri takes Zia's hand. "Ah'll be fine," she says. "Where'd Meian go?" She hobbles to her feet and looks down the path toward the mage.

Zia chews her lower lip, brow furrowed in concern as she watches in Meian's direction. "Nothing too rash," she murmurs under her breath, and pulls Muri to her feet. "She's still there," she says, quickening her pace to keep up with Muri. "Nothing can you do here" is all too true, from what she can tell.

Paler eyes study the man's face, with an air of quiet and perhaps almost unpleasant amusement, before the three of them turn to go. "I'll remember your faces," she calls softly after them, voice a smug sort of promise, before she turns back to Muri and Zia, crossing the street towards them.

Lucius and a phalanx of Torchbearers are approaching, prompting the retreat of the three men the little mage addresses.

The ten troops seem oblivious to the fact that they've caused anything to go awry for anyone, really, or well for others. They continue their orderly, two column march through Whitehaven, when all of a sudden Lucius raises his hand in a fist. The standard bearer next to him lowers and raises the standard once, and the Torchbearers come to a stop without a word.

Even as the column of soldiers arrive, the trio moves away, this time, as non-chalantly and non-disturbing as possible. The others in the street also part, giving the soldiers as much berth as possible, murmuring among themselves about the near encounter between the thugs and the Torchbearers.

Muri tries to sling her backpack on her shoulder again, but her movements are slow, her knee obviously giving her trouble. "Missus Zia!" she says, the color of her face returning. "Ah dinae know ye wus here." She looks over at the Torchbearers worried. "They not gonna harm Missus Meian, are dey?"

From the direction of dawnstar comes a very badly played flute, attached to a soaked-through blackscale syladris. He is path takes him, with an utter lack of attention, past the trio and on, vaguely in the direction of the two columns of soldiers and the women nearby. His tailtip moves in time to the rather shrill sound.

"The Torchbearers?" Zia asks, reaching out to support Muri and keep her from falling over. "Why would they?" Looking past Muri to the troops, she inspects them and decides that they don't look like anything especially out of the ordinary. Aeseyri passes, but Zia hardly even notices - her attention is fixed rather on the approaching Meian. "What happened?" she calls out. Despite having heard most of it, she's half-hoping she missed something.

"Nothing, as being arrested for p-putting a few a-arrows through a few r-richly deserving b-backsides is not my i-idea of how to spend the next few m-mo-" Meian cuts off abruptly, wincing physically at the sound of the badly played flue. "Ah, Light! What -is- *that*!" Whether or not Lucius actually hears what the people are saying, some thirty metres away, is one thing - he doesn't acknowledge it. "Take fifteen, lads." He says, turning to them, and then goes to take some shelter and do it himself.

Muri lets out a breath of relief as Meian rejoins them. "Cor, Missus Meian," she says. "Ah twas afeared dem soldiers..." she breaks off and winces at a particularly sour note from Aeseyri's flute. She turns towards the sound, a hand over her ear, then brightens. "Messer Aeseyri!" she calls as she waves toward the Syladris.

Zia grins in relief. Nothing. Nothing is plenty for her taste - at least, right now. She isn't feeling up to trouble the day before she's supposed to do something productive. And then - attention shifts to the passing Syladris, and she bothers to pay attention now. At least, enough to wave.

Aes breaks off, getting addressed - offering a bright smile and altering his slither to move that way... the flute, it might be added.. has ceased. The naga calls, brightly, curious, "I do not have two namesss! It isss jussst Aessseyri. Did you hear? I am ssstarting to get the hang of it."

Meian relaxes visibly as Aes ceases his playing, a light sigh of relief escaping her, but she tries to smile as if it wasn't ear-assaulting. This is rendered somewhat harder by her shivering returning, as she notices the cold once more. "...P-perhaps we could go i-inside now?"

Muri hobbles toward the Syldaris, favoring her right knee. "Twas... remarkable," she manages to comment without giggling. "Good t' see ye here!" Reaching his side, she turns back to Meian. "Oy, ye does look cold!" she says. "Is der someplace we can go t'get a cuppa or sumfin?" She looks first to Meian then to Zia.

Zia glances briefly at Meian, before looking back to Muri and Aes. "Probably," she says, vaguely. "Somewhere . . . most every time I've been in Light's Reach, I've just been passing through, so I've no idea where." Turning back to Meian, she nods. "Aye, though, you look like your ears are about to fall off. You have someplace warm in mind?" Still vaguely confused as she is, at least the racket of the flute has stopped.

Aeseyri enfolds Muri in a merry sort of hug, or at least goes to. "It isss where I can go. It isss a very interesssting placsse. You are limping.." And he looks to Meian, concerned. "And you are cold. There isss a placssse with good food near here."

"Mmm. Dragon's Hoard?" Meian asks of Aeseyri with a faint smile, glancing south. "I t-think if we head t-this way..." A slight, diffident beckoning gesture, and she turns to drift off that way.

Muri accepts the hug, then steps back blushing. "Ah... Ah just tripped," she says to the Syldaris, before turning to follow Meian. "Souf ye say?" she says. "Ah could have a bit o'mead 'bout now. Will ye come wid us, Missus Zia?"

"One way to put it," Zia breathes, still not quite over the sudden appearance and disappearance of the trio. Right. Back to reality - onward ho. "'course I will," she agrees, following the glance southward. "Least, if no one objects, I will." And possibly if they do, too, because it -is- cold out here.

Aeseyri follows along, of course, blinking once, twice, three times. "You are all very ssseriousss. Are you alright?" His head tilts, the silver on his horns gleaming. "The not-nicsse one isss not here, isss he?"

"N-not nice one?" repeats Meian a bit blankly, brow furrowing. "Who's this not n-nice one, aye? ...and we're a-all right- there was j-just a bit of trouble with s-some rude r-ruffians. This way, and t-then if I remember right, down another street-" And she continues to the south.


 * Redwater - Freelander District


 * Named in honor of the fallen of Light's Reach who's blood is said to have spilled into the local water sources in the wake of the Ravager's carnage, Redwater is more commonly known as the Freelander District and, as one might expect, is a vast bastion of Freelander activity and habitation.


 * Unlike the space and expense that Starmantle portrays, Redwater is a far more practical and pragmatic district that it as fastidious as it is cosy. The locality is mostly dominated with "merchant" townhouses built in the common half-timber and white-stucco style that is common across Fastheld, with attrative pargeting decorating the outer walls of some of the upper levels of the taller buildings.


 * Though there is more than enough space to move around in, and while the term "crowded" is not one that would apply to Redwater at all, the majority of these townhouses and establishes rest in close proximity with those others that surround it, maintaining the bustle and life that Freelanders enjoy so much.


 * ''Smooth red-cobbled streets and roads elegantly flow through the heart of the district, weaving intricate courses through the townhouses and trade buildings that inhabit the region. The main road that surges through Redwater is an impressively wide

through-fare that links to the Merchant District of Twostars to the east, and the central exchange of Whitehaven to the north. The Dragon's Hoard, a large and popular tavern, rests along the northern edges of this road, while The Great Oak lies deep in the heart of the district itself.''

Muri limps along as quickly as she can. "Light luv a duck, Missus Zia," she says, her voice a bit too merry as if trying to compensate for the unpleasantness of the last few moments. "O'course we don' object!" She glances at Meian. "Dey was rough all right, but Ah'm glad dey didn't hurt ye fer talkin' so to dem. And den dem soldiers came..." She breaks off and looks to Aes. "It'll be better once we's all warm agi'n."

Smiling, Zia tags along after the group. The idea of a warm fire somewhere doesn't sound so bad, really. Glancing at the Syladris, she shakes her head. "Ai, no, we're fine," she assures him. "Just a bit of trouble, that's all. Nothing too terrible ..."

"Trouble?" Aes lets it pass, but not without a suspicious look. "But if it isss jussst warmth, there isss a fire there - " He points a finger at the Dragon's Horde and its sign. "and there issss warm."

"I'll be c-content enough with that, and aye, perhaps a s-spot of ale?" Meian suggests with a slight grin, not seeming worried herself. Offhandedly, she assures Muri, "I w-would not need the S-shadow to deal with the likes of t-them, aye? Never you mind-" And the slim girl slips over to hold the tavern's door for the others.


 * The Dragon's Hoard - Light's Reach


 * Nestled along the western edge of the road at the northernmost entrance to the district, the Dragon's Hoard welcomes any common traveler with the aromas of richly brewed ale, warm bread, and of course, open wings. With walls built of sturdy stone and supporting beams of pine, patrons can rest assured that it will take more than a simple dispute between pints to tumble the walls.


 * ''The space inside is well stocked with lengthy tables and smaller, more intimate booths near the corner hearth. To the left of the doorway stands the bar counter where the keeper and maids stand ready to serve up a hearty stew, the latest brew, or endless

streams of questionable conversation. To the right of the doorway a small platform has been built up from the straw-covered floor, providing the night's entertainment with a place to perform.''


 * For those too tired to watch said performances, their place is across the room and up the narrow staircase to the inn upstairs. A young boy waits patiently (or fast asleep) at the foot of the staircase, ready (when poked with one's toe) to assist patrons in obtaining one of the few rooms available.


 * ''Despite the light-hearted, bawdy, and at times utterly unruly atmosphere that fills the establishment, the tavern is reigned over by more somber powers - the powers of memory and faith - that is if the carved teeth and gaping maw of a drake head mounted above the

hearth don't sober you enough. Above the doorway is a wooden crest - a rosy sun mounted on a pair of white wings, centered on a black plaque which reads: "Out of the ashes of old shall birth a new dawn. May the Light Reach forever."''

Muri limps in and steps aside to let the others pass. She glances around the room. "Ah thin' der's a table o'er yonder t' de lef' of de hearth," she says to the group.

Zia grins. "I think I could find my way halfway across Fastheld with directions like those," she comments wryly, looking where directed. Sure enough, there's an empty table there. "Nice and warm, aye? Someplace to thaw walking icicles." She starts off towards the indicated table.

Aeseyri moves along behind all three women, politely getting all of himself indoors before closing the door; the relatively densely-packed furnature proves an interesting obstacle. It sends Aes winding a bit through the wider spaces (and at one point, up and over a chair) as he slithers back for that table, offering a polite hiss to at least one of the staring patrons as he passes.

Meian giggles gently in appreciation of Aeseyri's passage, moving towards the empty table with a look of patently obvious gratitude. "I f-forget just how v-very cold winter is," she sighs ruefully.

Muri slips off her backpack and cloak as she moves along giving Aeseryi as much room as he needs to negotiate the tables. With each step, her movements become less stiff. She lifts her nose and nods. "Cook's alright, Ah thin'," she comments. A server passes and Muri sets a gentle hand on the woman's arm. "Some hot mead, please," she says with a smile. "An what me fren's may want."

"It's cold," Zia says gently, pulling chairs out from under the table for her companions. She hesitates at the last one, wondering whether Aeseyri will even sit in a chair. She tugs it out just in case, and settles into hers. "Is he?" she asks Muri idly at the comment about the cook. "Good. Good food makes for good tempers."

Aes just.. picks up the chair, twists impossibly, and sets it far to the side. And then he comes back to coil there at that spot of the table, asking Muri brightly. "Can I have ale? It isss tassty. But they do not let me have much becausse Reizssa thinksss I am sssilly enough, ssshe ssayss."

"That sounds like a good idea," Meian muses softly to herself. "-Not- much a-ale for Aes. B-but at least one r-round for the lot of us, a-aye?" Her little form settles into a chair, curling up, gratefully absorbing the hearth's warmth.

"One mead and three ales," Muri says to the server who nods and heads for the bar. Hushed voices murmur as Aeseyri rearranges furniture and a few stop to stare. Muri takes the last chair and stretches her shoulders before setting her arms on the table. "Well! Dat wus an exciting bit o'de day," she says. "Ah'm lookin' forward t' a bit less excitement, ah thin." The server returns clutching several mugs in her hands.

"Three ales and a mead," she says setting them down. Muri sets a small handful of coins in her hand. "Tank'ee, Missus." The server takes the coins absently, hardly acknowledging her presence, the servers eyes on the Syldaris instead. The hesitates there, openly staring.

With a murmur of thanks to Muri, Zia pulls her mug towards her, letting it rest on the table for a minute, while she watches the maid watch Aeseyri. Horns, tail, scales, and of course the business with the sitting on the floor, he's a sight to those who aren't used to such things. Zia smirks.

Aeseyri poses. Shifting. Looking at the server with a coquettish appreciation, turning his head to where he /knows/ the firelight will shine off of that silver banding on his horns, even tucking his hair back behind his ear. And then, he offers, brightly. "If you like, I will kisss you." Oh, that smile is mischevious. And preening.

Meian lets out a stifled but largely uncontrollable giggle, her eyes widening. "Oh Aes," she barely manages, reaching for her ale and sliding the proper payment across the table- evidently not willing to ride on someone else's tab. "If o-only all men w-were as generous as you, aye?"

Muri's eyes widen at Aes' display then glances sidelong at the server. "Hain't ye got's somefin' better t'do den... den... starin' so lahk... lahk..!" Muri's voice is cool, yet edged. "Shoo!"

The server for her part, giggles and blushes with each of Aes' flirtatious gestures. "Oy, I'm not sure if I should--" she says, giggling again and putting the edge of her apron to her face. She shoots a dirty look at Muri and hastily gathers up Meian's coins. "Hrmph," she says to Muri, then step forward and offers her cheek to Aes.

Zia snorts into her ale, and quickly sets the mug down again, staring at her hands in her lap and shaking with repressed laughter. "Perfect," she murmurs, when she trusts herself to look up again without bursting into giggles. "Absolutely perfect." She's half tempted to see if there's anything she can call the server back for.

Aes leans in and - well, he /is/ friendly. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek soundly. Not chastely. If she looks at him? Oh, that'll go badly. Or well, depending on where you're standing.

Meian just dissolves into helpless laughter at this point. "Oh, Mistress W-woodhill, I t-think everyone is happy e-enough with this a-arrangement," she manages to say between her giggles, taking a deep gulp of ale. "N-no need to chase her off, a-aye?"

The server's eyes pop wide as the Syldaris hugs and kisses her. She stands a bit stiffly, then melts a bit into his arms. She blushes and puts her hand to her cheek. "I've never," she looks back at Aes with a half smile. "Never been kissed..."

Muri's eyes narrow and her lips thin as she presses them together. Unlike her friends, she is /not/ amused, not in the least. She glances at Meian and sighs, taking up her mug and drinking it carefully, watching the server and Aes from the rim of her mug.

A few more helpless giggles from Zia, and she takes another sip of her ale, at the risk of spilling it everywhere. Her hands are practically shaking with the effort of repressing the mirth. "Perfect," she mutters again, but doesn't dare look up again yet.

The server's let go with a happy - "You kisss very well - if you like, we can practissse more later." Aeseyri settles on his coils then, giving her a wink.. and then reaching over to get his mug, looking brightly at the table. "I like coming here. I feel very pretty."

"You are v-very pretty, Aes," Meian assures sweetly, still hardly able to contain her mirth. "M-most terribly so, r-really. I don't know h-how all the ladies k-keep their wits and behavior around y-you. Of c-course I don't count as I'm w-wed..."

The server lifts her apron again and giggles behind it. "Practice?" she murmurs, then giggles. "Yes, practice..."

"HANNAH!" a booming voice crosses the room from the direction of the kitchen. The server winces and gives the group a hasty curtsey before she scurries off, her apron still covering her blushing face.

Muri rolls her eyes and mutters something about useless, foolish women, and sets her mug down again. She glances at Aes, a strange look of dismay and confusion in her eyes. The blinks, then looks to Meian. "How long ye been married, Missus?" she asks.

"I suspect she now feels very pretty, too," Zia comments lightly, casting an amused glance after the giggling, girlish Hannah who's probably in the kitchen now being told a thing or two about Syladris - or men in general. Still smiling, she leans back comfortably in her chair, content for the moment.

Aeseyri shifts to look thoughtfully at Muri, that smile fading, cradling that mug in both hands. And then? Oddly enough, he sets it aside, moving around Zia's chair with an easy slither, apparently intent on closing on Muri's.

Meian quirks a brow at Aes' advance, but doesn't say anything to interrupt it. Then a moment's thought. "You know," she says slowly, "I right well forget e-exactly. Beginning of f-fall, last year... s-so nigh on h-half a year or so, pretty soon. We w-were in a hurry to get wed before w-we got shut in Northreach, I do r-remember that..."

Muri, focused on distracting herself with getting to know Meian better fails to notice Aes moving in her direction. Instead she frowns slightly and sighs. "Ye and yer husband both..." she starts to say. "Forced t'leave yer homes and move t'Northreach? Ah... Ah dinnae realize. Ah means Ah heard all dem folk movin' but it's diff'rent, aye, when ye know someone? Ah'm sorry dat happens t'ye. Where was ye 'afore?"

Zia watches Aes slip past her towards Muri with an expression halfway between a smile and pure-and-simple curiosity. No comments from her though on the subject. "Ai, it's better than just one of them banished, no?" she remarks quietly, sipping at the ale and keeping a sharp eye on the Syladris.

Aeseyri leans down, his head near Muri's ear, and asking, soft and sibilant. "You ssshould asssk, you know." He smiles, gently. "Or you ssshould sssay. But you do not look happy - and it isss sssomething that doesss not sssuit you."

"We were at Night's E-edge, Lady Celeste's k-keep," Meian answers Muri, though she quickly falls silent to let her converse with Aeseyri again- smile in full force. Glancing Zia's way, she nods after a moment. "Aye. My h-husband's a powerful mighty m-mage, and w-was the one to t-tell me that I had the T-touch myself. As w-wrong as it probably is, S-shadow's a t-thing we share."

Muri startles at the sound of Aeseyri's voice and she turns toward him, blinking rapidly. "Wot?" she says. "Ask?" She looks to the other two women, then back to Aeseyri, her blood coloring her cheeks. "Ah should ask fer wot?" She swallows and looks down to her hands, abashed. "Ah hain't gots... Ah means... Yer not..." she shrugs, and glances at him sidelong. "Tis up t' ye whom ye kisses." She smirks apologetically. "Ah'm sorry Ah' looks unhappy. Yer here wid us, dat makes me happy." She smiles warmly and true.

To her credit, Zia -is- doing her best not to smirk. And failing miserably, but (also to her credit) she's hiding it with another sip from the mug. When she sets it down again, she's as sober as a graveside mourner. "Peculiar, isn't it?" she says to Meian with a little shrug. "Like the Light working somehow -through- the Shadow."

Aeseyri shifts - that odd flexibility coming in handy to look Muri squarely in the eye. "You wissh for me to kisss you?" That's a very serious question. A very serious question indeed.

"I believe it's p-possible," Meian calmly tells Zia, and perhaps she would elaborate- but in light of Aeseyri's question she has to hide her face behind her tankard of ale before she bursts out laughing.

Muri, eyes wide, stares deeply into Aeseyri's eyes. "Ah," she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. "Ah..." she swallows. "Wan' ye t'do wot ye want to. Wot ye's feels... fer me." She blinks again and holds her breath.

There comes a time when one must resist the urge - strongly - to clear one's throat. Now's that time. With effort, Zia ignores Syladris and cook, and continues her conversation with Meian. Quite calmly. "You ready for the masque tomorrow, you suppose?"

Aes searches Muri's gaze for a long, long moment - yes, Meian and Zia are frankly ignored. And then? He leans in....

And goes to hug her. Firmly, and for a very long moment, hissing something soft and quiet at her ear.

Aeseyri whispers: Your eyesss sssay you wisssh for love - and you have a very good heart. And I will alwayssss have a hug for you, and I will alwayssss have a placssse - but you wisssh a kisss in love, not becaussse you are beautiful and kind. Your kind lovesss oncsse, not many. I will not hurt you.

Meian does quite a good job at ignoring Muri and Aes in return, though not angrily- the smile lingers on her lips, calmly, once the ale is set down. And her gaze returns to Zia. "I t-think so. Are you g-going to go in costume?"

Muri leans into Aeseryi and sighs. "No time fer foolish wimmin," she says quietly, then looks up at the Sylardris again, her smile very brave. "We still be fren's aye? Ah gots t'teach ye hows t'cook pies and such, hrm?" She turns slightly and offers a cheek. "Ah don' mind a little known' Ah's pretty." She giggles.

Those words are undoubtedly heard, and Zia's eyes bright just a little with merriment to hear it, but she makes no other indication that she listening. Indeed, she's all ears right now, devoting only as much of her attention to Meian as is necessary to show that she really -is- paying her a little heed. "Costume," she breathes. "Gah, do you think I need to? I'd just planned on dressing nice. I don't know if I can afford a costume . . . or find one this late."

Aeseyri laughs, soft and warm, and kisses that cheek - again, that hissing whisper just for Muri - with a surruptitious glance at the other two, his tailtip (over by Zia's opposite elbow, actually) flicking.

Aeseyri whispers: I think you are very pretty, yesss. And yesss, I would very much like to kisss you. I would not mind brining you to my tent, but it isss not a thing that /you/ are ssseeking. We will talk later, I promissse, and you will be honessst."

... the word 'tent' is clearly audible in the middle of that hissing whisper. As is 'later'.

If Meian hears even a bit of that conversation, she doesn't betray it. "No, you s-shouldn't need to," she answers softly. "I w-will, but only to continue my t-tradition from the last m-masquerade I e-entertained at. T-tis the nobles who'll have to b-be all grand tomorrow n-night, though, not us."

Muri tilts her head back and withdraws a bit. "Aye," she says with a nod. "De next time Ah visit de Refuge." She takes up her mug and raises a silent toast to Aes, before taking a sip. She watches him a moment as if trying to memorize him just as he is, then turns to the others. "De ball?" she says brightly. "On de 'morrow aye? Any idears how many's comin?"

Hannah weaves around the tables again and gives Aes a shy wave, then moves to clear a table of dirty dishes. Seeing the server, she chuckles again and nods, as if understanding something new about herself.

Zia glances sharply at Muri, about thirty-dozen unasked questions in her eyes. But she doesn't give voice to even one of them. "I've no idea," she says. "I think most of the nobility got invited, but I'm not really sure. My business will just be to entertain whoever does show up." She casts a curious glance at Meian for affirmation of this.

Aeseyri answers Muri's question brightly. "I am going! It will be fun - I even got a piecsse of writing-parchment with timesss and placssesss I have never heard of and it will be grand but I do not know how to dancsse, really." He goes back to his own 'spot', if not a chair, letting one hand linger on Muri's shoulder until it can't anymore, something oddly reassuring in it. "You will be there? I hope they do not wisssh me to play - I am not very good."

Meian blinks slowly at Aeseyri, seeming stunned out of her attempt to be polite. "You're c-coming to the Ball? Oh, Light-" And then she winces to herself, smiles weakly, and murmurs, "I'm... s-sure it will be wonderful..."

Muri smiles at Aes. "Aye! Ye tol' me de other night," she replies. "Ah knowd yer gonna have a good time, but Ah cain't go t'de ball." She shrugs. "Ah gots t'work at de Trout. Ah've been gone a bit longer den Ah should be, an' I best get back t'me job afore de Duchess Sweetwater d'cides Ah'm not worth de bother." She turns to Meian. "Ye wuz sayin' ye had played at another ball afore? Where? Wuz it all el'a'gant?"

Zia shoots a sharp, warning glance in Meian's direction, acutely aware that as harmless as he seems, Aeseyri has horns. Big ones. Particularly when compared to -her- horns. And then she grins at the thought of Aes trying to skewer her or anyone else on the horns. The image is slightly ludicrous. "Wonderful," she agrees.

Aeseyri sticks his - yes, it /is/ forked - tongue out at Meian.

... no wonder he's popular.

And he smiles, picking up his cup. "It will be fun, yess! I am looking forward to it and it will be grand and there will be mussic." He nods, and takes a large swallow of ale. And grimaces, eying it.

"Yes, ah, it's g-going to be... very grand to s-see how it goes," Meian murmurs after a moment, slowly finding an appreciatively thoughtful grin. "I d-do think so. ...And aye, Mistress W-woodhill, it was q-quite an affair. B-beautiful dresses and m-masks... and a duel nigh b-broke out."

Muri nods. "One day Ah hopes t' see a ball," she says before finishing her mead and standing. "Ah hopes no duels come t'be t'morrow! Well me fren's, Ah best be headin' home. " She puts on her cloak and backpack once more, no trace of her earlier injury apparent. "Light keep ye all and come see me soon! Ah wants t'hear all 'bouts de ball!" She flashes one last smile before heading toward the door and into the night.

Return to Season 7 (2008)