[Flashback] Loosened Chains [Victor Lark]

[Lavia]

The Kelvics' lips were pursed together tightly after she spoke, for the entire way there. She observed the boy quietly with her eyes, as he took the elongated stick in to his grasp and began to push off from the bottom of the canal, with as much strength as he could. She sensed struggle and frustration, but remained silent as he continued to try and steer them as best as he could, and gain enough speed. Though, the stick did not remain in his hold and hit the water, sending only tiny droplets of water to sooth her face. A smile crept only for a moment, as he reached for the underside of the bridge and gave an eager push, sending them off just a bit further. His determination caught her attention even more, and she lifted her eyes to him once he sat back down and continued to speak. His words were very faint, for her attention was taken away by the change of scenery. They were floating between two cramped buildings, the end and front of the ravosala gently knocking against the stone walls as it lost straight course, but aligned itself on its own. The ravosala came to stop, and rocked just a bit as she watched the boy stumble out and plant his feet on to the ground, turning to bow and hold out a hand for her to take. Lavia did not need to think twice, and found their palms touching once again, but this time without force. That was until a voice shouted out after them, and she was being tugged gently and pulled through the winding alleys, her body jerking with surprise with every sharp turn. Her feet carried her as quickly as they could, matching his pace as her free hand continued to hold on to the cloth that was draped around her body. She had no time to look around and take in her surroundings, but her eyes did catch the vibrant colors that were not seen in the part of Ravok she was familiar with. She stopped running once he did, and as he released her hand she watched him take hold of the narrow ladder on the side of the stone building. She watched him climb a few feet, before she too reached for the bars on the ladder, and pulled herself up. “Come. You should fit well enough in my mother’s clothes.” Her knees bent with every step, until she followed him inside of his home. Her eyes were to the floor, but slowly lifted once her feet were settled in. Large prodigious paintings lined the walls, a long with a few framed pictures and parchments. There were trinkets of all sorts and colors, decorated along a large dresser and placed almost so perfectly, one simple move of them would throw off its perfection in an obvious way. Her eyes felt as if they were playing tricks on her, convincing herself she had wound up in some kind of haven of beauty. She leaned in closer to the dresser, running her finger along the edge of it curiously, and no, there was not a speck of dust in the least bit. She continued to trail off away from the boy, eyeing each thing she found captivating. From the large and plush bed to the intricate patterns on the throw rug just beneath her feet, embellished with bright shades of azure and lavender. She then came in front of a large standing mirror, and she took in her own reflection and studied herself for several moments. It had been quite some time since she actually saw a clear reflection of herself, that was not in the mirror of a pool of water. She raised her palm to her cheek, and cupped it gently in silence. She would have gotten wrapped in her own thoughts and day dreams, until the small still voice awoke her to her senses, remembering there should be no time wasted. She tore her eye away from the sight of herself, and up to the rim of the mirror where a cream colored, thick piece of fabric hung, laces dangling from each side. She reached for it, and opened it with the stretching of her arms. She would soon learn this was a corset. But of course, a Kelvic so simple knew no other clothing but what did have on before; rags. She held the corset over her head, and lowered it on to her crown, beginning to ties its laces together just under her chin. As she did so, she searched back through the mirror for the boy, and let her honey eyes find his through the reflection. "What is your name?" she asked, continuing to knot the laces with her busy fingers.

[Victor Lark]

While Victor was, for the most part, vain, he took little pride in the extravagant possessions of his family. The age-old artifacts and priceless furniture disgusted him, if anything. To protect something from breaking went against the nature of the world, and to collect mere things for the sake of a memory was to live desperately for the past. Victor preferred to consider himself a man of the present. And as the slave had already learned, he was not much of a future-thinker, either.

He had removed his shoes at the window down the hall, but remained in his damp clothes in order to lead his guest to his mother’s room, where she danced around inquisitively like the animal she was. Victor folded his arms as she satisfied her curiosities, following her naked form until his eyes were drawn to a white bird cage that hung in one corner. It was recently empty, as its previous inhabitant had died. That pet was not supposed to have lived more than eight years, and yet it had seen his fifteenth birthday come and go, and had occupied that cage since before he was even born. The room felt lonely without it.

When he finally looked back at her, he saw her fumbling with the corset over her bare flesh. He laughed and hurried towards the dresser, deciding against ridiculing her for her mistake. He produced from the bottom drawer a translucent white dress, and from the top one a simple silk gown the color of copper. “My name is Victor Lark,” he answered, still smiling as he approached her with the proper attire. He did not ask for her name; Kelvics without masters did not have one, in his experience.

“Here.” He loosened the corset with nimble fingers and took it from the woman, offering the underwear in exchange. As her only progeny, he had helped his mother dress before, not to mention the decent number of girls that had requested morning help after busy nights. “This goes under that.” He would slip it over her then, pulling the thin sleeves over her shoulders. He pulled her long hair tenderly from the dress and draped it over one side of her neck, caressing her collarbone unconsciously. Though he would never admit it, her birdlike qualities appealed to him unusually; he interpreted his fascination for attraction.

Victor opened the corset so that it would fit over her breast, then pulled it to her proper waist. He subsequently began to tighten it harshly, the only way he knew how. Assuming that her previous display meant that she had never worn one before, he explained as he tied the laces at the top, “Breathe with your chest. You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

His fingertips remained on her waist at the end of his outstretched arm as he reached for the actual dress, but he handed it to her without an offer to help. He had noticed the peculiarity of his own behavior and excused it for a boy’s typical reaction to nudity, ready to depart to his room and get into a pair of his own clothes. If he had any less self-control, he might have blushed.

OOCAgain, go through the house, if you want. I didn't want to get too far ahead.
.

[Lavia]

"Victor Lark." she whispered, letting her tone get a taste of his name before she quietly looked away once he began to approach her with the clothing he pulled out of the drawers. She lifted her chin upwards and did not resist his attempt to untie the mess she had made, from her attempts to try and dress herself in unfamiliar clothing. He unloosened the item and she turned her head back to the mirror, to watch him intently. His motions signaled for her to give the obvious movements and she did not hesitate to react. She reached her arms to the ceiling as he his light hand slipped over her frame the thin white transluscent slip, which hung loosely off of her frame. The woman might have been the same size as his mother, but obviously not as filled out. She took notice of herself, and even with a simple slip on, it excited her. She thought this would have been enough, until the corset was brought in front of her from above, and adjusted above her waist and under her bust. Victor then began to pull tightly, causing an uncontrollable gasp once she was caught off guard by the tugging. “Breathe with your chest. You’ll get used to it soon enough.” The corset began to squeeze in her frame, which she noticed began to shape her body in to a more feminine and defined hour glass figure. Quite uncomfortable, she reached her hands up to the frame of the mirror and arched her back slightly as he continued lacing up the corset, until he reached the final pull and knot. Her scrunched expression remained, as well as her slumped shoulders and arched posture. The plain copper colored dress was handed to her, and taking it she watched him leave the room. Left alone, she straightened her shoulders and stood upright, beginning to 'breath with her chest' or at least try. She lifted the dress over her head and slipped in, letting it hug her in its proper areas, and she realized just why the corset was needed. The middle of the dress was sewn much tighter than the rest, and as her hands cupped her sides she began to admire the way she looked. Fascinating, it truly was. She stood back from the mirror and extended her arms outwards as she turned from side to side, gently letting the bottom of the dress sway with her movements. Once her mind began to wander and her attention no longer focused on her attire, she found her fingers poking and prodding in an assortment of makeup and powders. She picked up a large cotton puff with her hand, as as she swung it to the mirror, sediments of its fine loose powders gently sprinkled itself along the wooden floor boards. Her eyes traced to the door frame, as if sneakingly, to see if Victor was going to return. When she did not hear any movement, she slowly and ever so gently pressed the cotton puff against her nose, and when she didn't see much of a difference she gave it a different approach. The Kelvic pat the puff roughly against her skin, causing clouds of smoke to appear. A soft cough was heard as she inhaled, but did not cause the girl to cease. Once she evened the powder out, she noticed what a difference it made. Her eyebrows did not look as dark, her eyelashes seemed to have disappeared, and her skin was now two toned. But of course, she excused her ridiculous appearance, since she was almost certain this was how every proper woman appeared. At least, this was how she saw them. She then reached for a small black tube and opened it, revealing the rouge colored stick which she took to her lips.. She had made herself up, as best as she could, and despite lacking knowledge of simple make up, she did appear decent to the eye. The Kelvic even pulled her hair back into a tight, low bun, which was a bit cropped to the side and not exactly centered. It appeared large, since her untamed hair was very thick. She let her feet guide her through the room, as she continued to peek in closed jewelry boxes, piles of papers and even through the large closet. There, she had found a very lovely hat, which when tried on, its lid covered most of her eyes. The lid was wide the whole way around, and the top of the hat fit over her crown like a glove to a hand. It was white, with a tawny colored ribbon just around the middle of it. She then began to fumble through the shoes, knowing a proper dress and hat would not be so proper, if the girl continued to walk around bare footed. She grabbed what seemed most appealing, which were a pair of black heeled boots, which were a tad bit tattered, but still held a polished appearance. She sat on the edge of the large bed, and began to try and fit her foot in, and with minor struggle she eventually did. Rising from the bed, the echoing of her heel against the floor filled the room. When she found nothing more to do, she walked towards the door frame to search for Victor, but she did so cautiously. She knew he would not have invited a run away slave in an occupied home, but being in a such a new environment and being on the run left the girl worried of causing a surprise to his mother, if she was to suddenly appear, or anyone else for that matter. She glared down the hall, and heard only the gentle thuds that could be heard from a room a few doors down. She swallowed the lump of nervousness in her throat and looked away, seeing that the door was closed and did not want to just barge in. Having looked away, she headed in the opposite direction of the home, finding her way in to what looked to be a dining room. It was decorate finely, with a very large table and several chairs. She began to wonder was it just Victor and his mother? And if so, why did a person need so many chairs? Did they often have many visitors? The ways of non Kelvic intrigued her, and as she lingered in closer she saw that the table was already pre set with spotless plates, glasses and white thick napkins that held in its hold an eating fork and spoon. She picked on up to simple examine its ruby colored trimming, and quickly set it down once her eyes were satisfied. She lightly glided her feet, not wanting to make much noise, and as she did so she spotted the basket of fruit in the center of the table. Her mouth immediately watered and as her eyes cut at each corner to see if he was coming, she reached out gently to retrieve a bright red apple. She let her teeth sink in eagerly, as she ate as if she hadn't eaten in quite some time. A decent meal the Kelvic has never had, so her appetite was always at its highest. As she held the apple with both hands and ate hungrily, she moved from the table and through the room, walking to an opened window and allowed herself to be embraced by the breeze. As she looked to the corner of the room, there she spotted an instrument she was familiar with. A piano. Though, she had never before played one. With a smile, she pranced quickly over and bent her knees to take a seat at the lowered bench like chair, and with her left hand she moved it from the apple and to the large heavy covering that hid the keys from her view. Pushing it back, she stared down to the black and white slender keys and gently, her finger pushed down on to the center key, the gentle rumble of the rack sending a sensation up her arm, filling her ears with a beautiful note. She was amazed. And as she finished off her apple with one hand, her other began to gently play with the keys. Its tunes would sound very unrehearsed to others, but to her ears it was a delightful melody all her own.

[Victor Lark]

Victor’s bedroom was not as elaborate as his mother’s, or the tapestried hall outside. It was a floor below hers and slightly smaller, though the bed was just as large. Its covers were blue and unadorned, its tall posts scratched and chipped where he had tried to climb them in his youth. No ornate rug lay on the hard wooden floor and no delicate artifacts hung from the wall; true to his inane philosophies on the matter, he had ruined every decoration his mother had attempted to add. He liked the room as it was then, but he had begun to loathe the consistency of it. It was a safe-haven from familial punishments, a refuge from the activity of the day. But was that what he really wanted?

He stripped and dropped his damp attire on the floor for the servants to retrieve, then moved to his dresser to pick out something dry. The clothes were still warm from the morning’s wash, but Victor greeted that fact with presumption instead of gratitude. He picked a pair of dark trousers and a shirt that would have matched the Kelvic’s plum rags, then decided to include a dark cravat for the sake of the rouse.

Despite her efforts to keep quiet, the heels on her feet sounded against the hard wood of the house, and Victor started. For a few long moments, he thought his mother had come home. She would not be pleased to see a strange girl in her bedroom, wearing her clothes. He ran into the hall and tore up a narrow secret stair for servant use, but when he reached the room, she was not there. Hastily he repaired the state of the vanity and closed the open wardrobe, realizing with embarrassment that the shoes were not on Ms. Lark’s feet, after all. He moved into the hall again and began to open doors at random, trying to find her, but then the cacophony of piano music resonated through the halls and he knew where she had escaped to.

As he finally descended the stairs to the bottom floor, he heard a familiar voice titter with annoyance. He recognized it instantly as belonging to the head maid, Lucresi. Victor and his cousins often made fun of her for her the way her wrinkled skin and knobby bones made her seem akin to a dying tree. She spoke quietly, through her nose, but even when she whispered she could send a chill through a weak spine. “Excuse me, miss,” she had said, “Are you... lost?”

“No!” He interrupted immediately, jumping the last few steps to stand in front of the sitting Kelvic, lest the elder slave identify the dress she wore. Still, he took the hat from her head as he neared her and held it behind his back. “She is my friend, Lucie. I’ll not have you disrespecting a guest.”

The old hag tried to sneer at the girl between his arms, but she could not quite catch a glimpse. “Won’t you compliment her on her musical prowess?” He suggested, the words dripping with sour mockery of both women. Lucresi struggled to keep her countenance straight as she glanced at the dining room across the hall and approached an abandoned apple core. As she picked it up with two long, bony fingers, she replied bitterly, “It was beautiful. Where do you take your lessons?”

Grinning, Victor stepped to the side and offered a polite hand to help the girl to her feet, then quickly lead her toward the door. As they departed into the brisk air again, Lucresi called out from within, “Dinner will be ready at the nineteenth bell, Mr. Lark. Your mother expects—”

Once they were outside, he returned the hat to her head. “You do not wear hats indoors,” he advised, then hooked his arm in hers and held firmly to the hand that rested there. As they walked down the street, Victor kept his pace to a gentle stroll. His head tipped toward her and his lips held a soft smile, as if they were courting. Minutes passed and the large homes fell into quiet, well-kept shops with expensive wares. At the end of the street there rose a building that was much taller than the rest, and he pointed to it. He leaned to whisper in her ear, his face bright with mostly-feigned flirtation but his words as dark as night, “That is where they bet on slaves, like you, to fight to the death. I would invite you for a show, but it is not befitting for your delicate female eyes.”

He dropped his arm and straightened again, waving at a pastry merchant who had recognized him. Having not discerned the connection between her and the devoured apple back home, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

[Lavia]

Her mouth was no longer busy with its eating, but the fingers of her right hand were very much so engaged in the eager pressing of the piano keys. Left to right, right to left, she allowed her fingers to sway along the ivory keys. A jolt of happiness went shooting up her spine and her excitement caused her to forget where she actually was and what she should have possibly been doing. Maybe sitting on the love seat and practicing the ways of a proper young woman, or perhaps getting comfortable in her shoes and learning to walk without stumbling. Then again, she was a simple being and easily distracted from responsibility or important tasks. Especially when her curiosity was something difficult to tame. There was no longer a worry of someone walking in on her that was not Victor, until the dry tone of a woman could be heard over the last note played. “Excuse me, miss,” -was all the Kelvic heard as her back jolted upright, the hat nearly tumbling off of her crown as she turned around as quickly as possible. She stared up to the old woman, her tongue lost for words and the fear of what was to come next beginning to urge her to jump and run. But instead, she heard the shout from across the room and she turned her attention to Victor as he leaped towards the two of them, and stood in the middle of them. The hat was snatched from her head and now in Victor's hold, but she did not dare argue. She leaned a bit to the right to peer from behind his stature, to look up to the old woman. With the moment she had, she took notice of her clothing and assumed she was a house maid of some sort. While eyeing the woman as best she could, words from Victors mouth passed over Lavia's head but her attention quickly turned back to the conversation once she realized the old womans eyes had found their way to her own, thanks for the Kelvics peeking head. “It was beautiful. Where do you take your lessons?” It took a moment for the compliment and question to register. As incomplex as she was, she was not able to distinguish sarcasm from raw truth, which was why she displayed a wide grin and cheerful eyes, before quickly looking away without a response. Taking it as she did, the Kelvic blushed uncontrollably with a lowered head. Lavia then payed mind to Victor as he moved and turned on his feet, extending his hand in a familiar manner. Lavia grabbed a hold of it and swung her legs from behind the bench, allowing her to be easily pulled to her feet. He did not say a word, and instead pulled her towards the door. Lavia did, though, turn to give one more look to the elderly woman, and twinkle the fingers of her free hand in a simple wave good-bye. She was pulled near him, and the hat was returned to her head. She nodded in response of understanding, her right hand reached atop her head and pushing it down firmly to her head to be sure it didn't find its way off. Her arm was taken and looped through his, her shoulder against his as they continued to walk down the street. Houses began to wane and they were soon surrounded by different vendors and shops of all sorts. Some sold food while others sold more precious and valuable materials. She let her eyes wander, but not long enough to become intrigued with anything. While her attention was not fully on Victor at that moment upon entering in the middle of shopping center, she was completely taken by surprise once she felt a sensation of warmth just on the nape of her neck. Her eyes had lowered and she did not move her neck to face him. Instead, she remained quite still but nonetheless, she was alert. “That is where they bet on slaves, like you, to fight to the death. I would invite you for a show, but it is not befitting for your delicate female eyes.” His whisper left an imprint of fervor, yet she could not find why the sensation had caused a stir of excitement and arousal. But, an innocent kind of pleasure. She had been intertwined in that very feeling that she had not comprehended his words immediately. His guiding hand did help, and her eyes did lift to follow. She let her eyes trace the building from its foundation and all the way to its ending top. She studied it briefly, but looked away when an uneasy feeling began to take over. She did not agree with slavery, of course, what slave would? She knew it was something that most people in Ravok and in Mizahar period, saw nothing wrong with. She was sure Victor as well, saw nothing wrong with a slave or two, even being allowed to fight till the death. It was inhumane in her opinion. But with a reserved tongue and tamed behavior, she found it impossible to speak up against it. “Are you hungry?” She looked up to Victor quickly and nodded her head with a forced smile as they began to approach the merchant and his large assortments. She pushed aside the bothered thought and held on much tighter to Victors arm as they approached the vendor and his goods. "What'll it be today Mr.Lark? I have tompouce, pecan danishes, berry muffins, palmier pastries, brioche.. or if-" he paused and nodded towards Lavia, a bit hesitant at his forthcoming word, though with confidence he showed his toothless grin and fiddled a bit with his glaze stained apron, "-you haven't much 'ah sweet tooth m'lady, I do have a large supply of plain croissants." he gulped and look back up to Victor beginning to straighten his posture, "-eh, so how's bout?" She continued to hold tightly on to Victor, but became amused by the vendors antsy movements. There were one too many names for all of the pastries, and it was difficult for her to keep up with them, let alone distinguish one from the other by name. She looked from him to the table laid out with wrapped goods and extended her right hand to point to what might have been a croissant. She could only assume, since it was the only piece of bread without and glaze or coating of any sort. "That one." she smiled, lowering her hand and nodding, "Please." The merchant responded quickly and picked up the plain pastry which was not after all a croissant, but a kind of sweet baked bread with little flavor. He held it out in her direction, and with his other hand grabbed a hold of a small cup which was only large enough for a sip, if used for drinking. But instead, he poured a bit of honey in to it from a plain container, and then handed her it as well with eager eyes. "It's best with 'ah bit of honey, m'lady." he slurred as she found his eyes gawking in to her own, "Those eyes of yours, remind me of honey." he whispered lowly as she grabbed a hold of both items and balanced them both in one hand, her fingers awkwardly holding them. She leaned a bit back once his body seemed to linger towards her, but of course, not in an inappropriate or threatening way. He was merely trying to take a closer look at the girl, but tore his attention away when he remembered there was one more customer. He grunted and cleared his throat as he looked up to Victor, awaiting his request, if there was to be one.

[Victor Lark]

Even as the pastries distracted her, Victor kept his grip firm on her hand, as if letting go would release her from his will. His eyes seemed to glare as he smiled at the man who poured the honey and complimented the girl. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” He replied, as if she were a boat or a sword for scrutinizing. A finger on the hand that did not hold her traced a short line over her cheek as he tried to steal a look of the eyes which had attracted the man behind the counter. When he glanced back at the chef to oblige the noise he gave, Victor’s smile faltered. He had become impatient, where he had once been rightfully nervous at their approach. And he was too keen on the subtle, subhuman features of her face. Victor did not appreciate the intrusion.

Under the pretense of precaution, the jealous boy reached into his pocket and placed a single coin on the table beside the glass display. He did not know if it was enough, but he suspected it was not. The man would be polite, the bitter Victor decided, or he would not be profitable. He took the little bowl of honey from it precarious position in her free hand and turned on his heel, dragging his pet alongside.

After a few brisk steps, he quickly fell into the previous chimes’ flirting persona. He walked slowly, kept close to her arm, held out the tray for her to dip her bread. Sometimes their legs brushed and he stumbled like a love-struck child, but if she looked at him for too long, she might notice how his expression sometimes straightened into something empty and abstracted. Nonetheless, it was easier than being angry, at least in the presence of her owl-eyes.

They passed nothing else of note, nothing to point out to the girl who would soon leave this place forever. Without the sights to distract him, Victor realized a peculiar desire to know her, to understand how it felt to fly, to discover whether she really did hate her cage. But he was too proud to voice many of his questions. Besides, what would a slave have to say?

The canals had begun to widen, signaling their proximity to the city’s edge, when he thought of something acceptable. He tried to stay discreet. When he spoke to her, it was a half-whisper; anything more would have been an assault to her ears. “Why do you stay with me, girl?” He asked, failing in his attempts to seem uninterested. The question was inherently selfish, begging a response with a compliment in it, but secretly it probed for a piece of the stranger. “If I am so unbearably insane, then maybe I amuse you. I won’t believe it’s only because I know how to get you out of here. Speaking of which—”

They came upon a small composite of rowboats. Daintily decorated and rocking in the slightest current, the vessels were meant for a wealthy individual’s excursions onto the lake. There was no stealing one of these boats. A couple of men sat among them, rising to grip their oars as the pair neared. A guard also stood rightfully nearby, leaning but attentive. When he caught sight of them, he raised an eyebrow. Victor was suddenly uneasy. News travelled fast, but he could not know how fast. His grip tensed. “Do you think he knows?” He asked under his breath, managing a touch of sarcasm. Then he glanced towards the selection of boats and spoke so that anyone could listen, “Would you like to ride to the lakeshore, my dear?”

[Lavia]

She was holding on to the bread and honey, keeping them balanced. Her eyes had shifted away from the man a long time before, and had been more focused on the tight hold Victor had on her. She felt, in the oddest way, secure and safe. Even though this situation was sure to not bring any harm to either one of them, she embraced that new found feeling; even if it was coming from such an arrogant boy. Her eyes darted in the direction of the clanking coin, and with not a word from Victor he pulled her off in to another direction, continuing on where they had left off before their short stop for something sweet. She did not hesitate when he took the small container of honey from her hand, and it did relieve her as she was now able to take her first bite from the freshly baked bread. At first, she was a bit too eager to fill the pit in her stomach, that she did not bother with the honey. Even so Victor continued to hold it out for her with more patience than she imagined, and once she was half way finished with the bread, she then decided to try it with the honey. The bread did not soak the sticky substance, but it did coat it generously. She pulled it to her mouth and did not bite so quickly, but did let it grave along her bottom lip with curiosity. She felt its thickness, and as a bit seeped into the parting of her lips, she let her mouth taste only of its sweetness before combining it with a bit of the bread. It was truly beyond anything she had ever tasted and she was quite sure nothing could ever be as magnificent and delicious. Even with the small bit of bread she had left, she began to use it more as a spoon to gather the honey and pour it in to her mouth, instead of eating the bread with it. Though once the honey was devoured, she took the last bite of bread and enjoyed it before there was no more. The Kelvic began to suck and lick at her finger tips in hopes to get back the same sensation of taste she first experienced with the honey, but even though that was impossible, the residue on her fingers was still enjoyable. She rose her eyes to her surroundings, the front of the hat no longer shading her face, her eyes narrowing as the peek of sunlight greeted her eyes once again. They narrowed, and found that the shops and various venues had already gone behind them, and there was nothing really interesting to see but quiet buildings and a few unfamiliar faces. She turned to look over her shoulder and what was left behind them seemed so distant and out of reach. She never knew until today how large Ravok was, and how many precious sightings and rare things it held; such as honey. To her, each window flourished with the draping of curtains in exquisite colors, each venue and setting, each interesting expression and laugh found and heard, was more than enough to make the Kelvic feel as if she was somehow walking in a type of Heaven. It made her forget, that this very city was where the nightmare had began. But all things she had seen in the matter of minutes, were all things she had never seen before. As she turned her attention back to the direction they were walking, she heard Victor speak and her eyes looked up to him, but he kept his focus ahead. Why was she staying with him? It might have been the fear her installed in to her when he mentioned the city might be scouting for an owl, or perhaps it was because he intrigued her enough to give her a want to stay for just a while. She looked away from him once his words pushed her attention elsewhere, and she observed the boats in the water. She knew they were not to stay on foot the whole way out of Ravok, and with a half smile she looked up to the men holding on to the oars. She was about to speak to answer his question, but felt his grip tighten on her hand and arm, causing her eyes to linger once he spoke again to the guard who was leaning near a wall but his posture darted upright and his expression said enough. She did not lock her gaze on him for long, and quickly looked away with her head slightly down in hopes that the flap of the hat would shelter most of her face. She did not look up to Victor or the boats attendants until Victors voice rang again in her ears, but this time much louder. Slowly, she lifted her head and played a smile as she kept her chin towards the sky and her back upright. She nodded slowly as she nuzzled her body against his while continuing to hold on to his arm. Their appearance and affectation was quite believable. "Yes, I would. That sounds.. beatific" she said audibly and convincingly as she turned her eyes from Victor the the man nearest with the oars. She was not sure of her choice of words, but she was trying to fit in anything that sounded appropriate and.. proper. Most words she used were words she had picked up over time, and only knew of their meanings by the way they were used by others. She pursed her lips tightly together in hopes no questions would be asked, and as the man with the oars in hand approached them to close the gap between them, her heart sunk as she held on tighter to Victors arm. The man stood silently, but surprisingly he bowed his head quickly before holding out his hand in her direction to help her on to the boat. "M'lady." he said lowly, his deep tone intimidating her even more, but still she reached out her hand and gave a glance to Victor for assurance. The man held on to her hand as she approached the very edge of the dock and with his own foot he held the rocking boat closer to the edge and in place. She lowered her foot in to the boat and maintained her balance once her weight shifted it slightly. He eventually let go of her hand and she moved quickly to the wooden plank to lower herself. She faced Victor and the man and awaited for Victor to follow, but as she watched them she too caught sight of the guard who was watching intently, and slowly he too began to approach the three of them. Her eyes widened and her hands became eager as she gripped on to her knees through the layers of clothing. She cleared her throat and spoke out, "Hurry a long, do not keep me waiting."

[Victor Lark]

Victor could not help but chuckle at her choice of words, her amusing impression of a wealthy girl. Her hand clenched on his arm and he touched her fingers with his own, fixing his gaze on the dock so that his wandering eyes would not stray suspiciously to the guard. Smiling coolly, he helped her steady herself as she stepped into the precarious balance of the little boat. He held firm until she had sufficiently sat, reluctant to relinquish her to the persuasion of the boatman. He did not follow her into the vessel.

Instead, he pulled his velvet purse from his belt and did not open it. The little bag contained nearly five times what the man could have possibly charged for a trip to the shore. As the money was taken, Lark glared a silent request for loyalty. He received some sort of glance, but could not tell if it was accepted. There was no time to change the plan; if at any point the man decided that his life was worth more than the gold between his feet, Victor hoped the Kelvic knew how to row a boat.

His eyes moved to her, full of the yearning that had been accumulating in him throughout the day. He had not given her the opportunity to answer his question, and now he would never learn anything. At least there was consolation in the bit of wretchedness he had caused in that ugly slaver’s life. When he smiled, he tried to put some sort of compassion in the expression, but it only came out as the same old joking, jovial grin.

The sound of bootsteps echoed ominously in his ears. Were there more than one? He dared not look. He only raised his hand in farewell, pulling his foot to the side of the boat. He kicked it from the dock before she could protest. “Goodbye, my dear. I had a pleasant afternoon! A pity we couldn’t do dinner.”

He was allowed the sight of her fleeing for at least a few feet, and then there came the grip of a wide hand on his arm. It was all he could do not to topple forward with the impact, stumbling against the edge of the street with only that hand to hold him up. Another found his other arm, and another wrapped around the back of his neck. He felt his face bend to the stinking breath of angry authority, and gave his best laugh through an awkwardly stretched throat. Without an understanding of the mumbling, incoherent words, he tried to rejoin with some witty remark, but his already short breath was immediately pushed out of him by a quick turn and a short shove. He coughed.

And as he was lead towards the street at the suggestion of powerful arms, Victor stole a glance at the water. He could not see if she had gotten very far, or if somehow more men had sprouted from the woodwork to steal her back. Still, he craned his neck to beam at her their mutual accomplishment before he was tugged to submission again. A glance ahead confirmed his suspicions of their return to the southern docks.

He gave a happily rebellious kick to one man’s knee, but the armored thing did not budge.

[Verilian]

Lavia +5 Observation +1 Rhetoric +2 Running +1 Climbing +2 Investigation +1 Play Instrument: Piano +1 Acting +1 Seduction Lores: Life of a Slave, The Feeling of Shame, Breaking Silence, Refusing to be a Wretch, The Taste of Freedom, Telling it Like it Is, A Sneak Peak at the Lifestyle of the Rich, Being Dressed by a Young Man, Dressing like a Proper Woman, Etiquette: You Don't Wear Hats Inside, Taste of Honey Victor Lark +2 Observation +1 Brawling +1 Seduction +3 Acting +2 Subterfuge +3 Climbing +1 Acrobatics +1 Swimming +1 Running +1 Drive: Ravosala Lores: Playing at the Slave Market, Punched in the Face, Stirring up Trouble, Stealing a Girl, An Act of Heroism, A Curious Attraction, Into the Depths, Birdlike Attraction, Dressing a Beautiful Woman, Underpaying for a Pastry You Question My Logic? : Any questions, shoot me a PM Notes: Awesome thread, great job guys! I'm sad to hear Lavia is retiring, she seemed like a good writer.