A blast from the past [Ifran]

[Nyahna Sasin]

20th of Winter, 511 AV

Ah, the Bizarre. A place where items most wondrous were bought and sold, where every little thing was of "the finest quality", and "imported from exotic locations", and, naturally, "cheaper than anywhere else in Mizahar", and where men, women, and children of all sorts stopped to marvel at the variety of items for sale while ignoring the opportunistic thief behind them. In other words, it was basically like any other market place in Mizahar, if a little more... illusiony.

Still, he had to say it was convenient. With so many newcomers to Alvadas constantly stopping to gape and stare, taking people's money was as easy as standing next to them and looking interested. Convenient, yes. A little boring, perhaps. He was missing a little something, a little spice in his life.

Something interesting that did not involve running from illusions. Or climbing off them.

Of course, if there was nothing interesting happening, Sasin could always make his own fun. But how?

A commotion caught his eye, and he turned to see a young thief running towards him with a coin purse, the former owner not far behind. As the thief passed by him, he stepped forward, turning as if to catch the boy, and stumbled forwards when the man crashed into him. Picking himself up off the floor, he grinned apologetically to the man, who glared at him and started off again after the rapidly disappearing thief. Disappearing into the crowd again, he recalled the old adage.

Good things come to those who wait. Or was it those who ate? He could never remember.

[Ifran]

A man behind Sasin chuckled softly, like sand rushing and falling sandstone pebbles, a desert sound. Perhaps he had been noticed; he was a full foot taller than Sasin, with four extra arms. His appearance was, in general, considered striking, but he made no effort to stand out here. In Alvadas, anyone might look the exotic Eypharian, but he was the real deal. Not long ago he had been in the Bizarre and another young thief had attempted to pick his pocket, but he had caught young Marius, called him out, and taken him for a meal and conversation. But then Ifran was here for two reasons: to make Ionu's acquaintance, and to develop a network of trusted allies; thieves, spies, assassins. One day he would return to Ahnatep, jewel of the desert, and he would need allies, especially if Sadiki, his Esteemed Grandfather, did not put him in line to inherit the reins of power within the House of the North Winds. He might have offered Sasin a hand up, but the need evaporated. His smile was friendly enough, though a bit aloof. Ifran was alone in Ahnatep, his slave sent back to Ahnatep to keep an eye on things, his brother Hasre barely there at the best of times though he had come to Alvadas to find Ifran. "Are you quite all right?" he asked solicitously.

[Nyahna Sasin]

Sasin was still pondering that phrase when he heard a laugh behind him. Turning, his eyes widened as he came face to face (Figuratively. He was actually face to chest, and had to look up. ) with an Eypharian. At least, he thought it was a Eypharian. One could never really tell in Alvadas.

To his surprise, Sasin felt a small wave of nostalgia for the desert city. Eypharians were, by far, his favorite customers. None of the dithering that he had with so many of his human customers, just a calm, straightforward elimination request. He had spent a season or two in Ahnatep, and had no doubt he would go back someday soon.

He nodded at the man's question. Sasin was curious now, as to whether he was actually Eypharian, and if so, what he was doing so far from Ahnatep. (He also wondered they handled the cold better than Dhani.)

"I am not injured, more than I can say for the boy if he is caught." He spoke Arumenic with an odd accent and his grasp of the language was far from perfect, but the message would get through. If he was, indeed, Eypharian.

Watching Ifran closely, Sasin privately hoped he was. It had been a long time since he had even though of home.

[Ifran]

Oh, delicious coincidence. The man spoke Arumenic. It was not the poetic, highfalutin Arumenic of poetry and stage, but it was familiar and welcome all the same. There was the slightest lengthening of sibilants that he equated with a Dhani, though he felt so out of sorts amid the strange Common of the Alvads that he might easily have mistaken the dialect. All the same, his answer was perfect. "It were best the boy were punished rather than shown undue clemency," he said, then adding a quote from one of his own poems: "Kindness is the beginning of cruelty." It was a sentiment that an Eypharian could understand, and most likely a Dhani too. Humans, though, were sentimental, and recoiled from such reptilian logic. His smile was beautiful in that Eypharian way, remote as a statue's. "Has he cleaned you out? Do you require a touch of charity to fill your belly today? I would buy you a meal and more for the pleasure of hearing my native tongue spoken on these alien shores."

[Nyahna Sasin]

The way Ifran spoke was slightly odd, a little more cultured than most of the Eypharians he had met, but yes, he was definitely one. Sasin cheered inwardly, slightly embarrassed by how happy that made him. But it had been three, four years since he had spoken to anyone from Eyktol. Too long.

He smirked at the reply he got. Definitely too long. He had almost forgotten how fond they were of sounding pretentious and educated (And pulling it off successfully). "Perhapss." He replied. "But his face is known now, and I doubt he will escape unscathed." And when they did catch him, they'd almost certainly let their guard down. Sasin could have let them catch the boy, but really. Where was the fun in that?

His hand went down to his waist, and, too his surprise, he found that someone had, in fact, taken his coin-pouch. "My pouch does appear to have been taken." Sasin grinned softly. "Pity he'll find nothing but stones. Charity will not be necessary, but I wouldn't say no to chatting over a drink or two. I must warn you though, it's been a while since I've had the opportunity to speak in this language"

Hopefully there would be no misunderstandings. He had no desire to end the day running away because he accidentally used the word whore instead of mother, or something like that.

[Ifran]

"Ah," he noted with poetic economy of sound, his eyes lighting up with an admiration that reflected back upon himself as much as upon his new acquaintance from the deserts. "I caught a thief in the act not so very long ago. They seem rather inept here in Alvadas, or perhaps we are used to a higher caliber of thief." He turned with the elegance of a dancer, one hand motioning toward a little hole in the wall nearby where intoxicating smokes could be inhaled through watery pipes and one could grow alert with coffee or relaxed with something fermented. They had food, as well: a watered down version of what could be found in Eyktol. Not exactly authentic, but then the palate of the average Alvad could not sustain the variety and intensity of flavors that an Eypharian diet might. In hardly any time, they were seated at a low table on silk cushions. Ifran took up a graceful lounge as if he owned the place, which he did not, though his family could have bought it ten thousand times over and still had the coin to buy the groceries. "In any case," he said, picking up the thread of their conversation, "you speak well."

[Nyahna Sasin]

Sasin grinned mischievously. "Perhaps they only seem inept because you don't even notice the ones good enough to get away." He wondered briefly what had happened to the thief, then dismissed it. He had no intentions of stealing from this one.

He followed Ifran inside, carefully scrutinizing the Eypharian. Tall, confident, and exceedingly graceful, he walked like he was used to being on stage, even more than most of his kind. Or perhaps Sasin had just forgotten.

"I started learning early." He said, seating himself on the cushions. "My mother, Assilanyahna, spent quite a lot of time in Ahnatep, and taught me Arumenic before she did Common." Of course, he had much more practice with Common by now.

Ordering a drink, he cocked his head to one side, curiosity getting the better of him. "So, what bring you to Alvadas…" Sasin paused for a second, realizing he didn't know the man's name, and looked at him questioningly.

[Ifran]

"Perhaps," he agreed with a smile. When they went inside, he nodded attentively to the Dhani's explanation of his language acquisition, adding only a quiet, "She must have been a good teacher." Of course, he assumed the Dhani had limber tongues and could learn any language, but getting over the occasional lisp might be difficult. He had never been trained in the Dhani tongue and wondered, briefly, what it would be like to live among them and learn their language and arts. "Forgive me. My name is Ifran of the House of the North Winds." He bowed elegantly, but without losing an ounce of masculine strength. Just because they were graceful didn't mean Eypharians were soft, but then a Dhani would know that. Once their introductions were made, he indicated the Dhani should join him at the low table, and he folded himself neatly down upon the silk cushions, curious as to whether his new acquaintance would partake of anything intoxicating, or merely eat.

[Nyahna Sasin]

"She was." Was all he said. She had been, very much. She had taken the time to teach him when his siblings had been calling louder for attention, and for that, he was grateful.

He blinked when Ifran introduced himself, but made no comment. "Sasin. Nyahnasasin."

Someone just looking at Sasin at that very moment would think that he was fairly relaxed. Anyone looking closely would see his eyes narrow thoughtfully for a moment before he nodded slightly. If someone were to read his mind, however, all they would hear would be asdfjkljfdkslalkjfdsa.

One of the North Winds. Well, that certainly explained quite a bit. They were primarily artists, if he remembered correctly. He remembered once watching a singer, who had been introduced as a Northwinds. She had looked so very arrogant, but had sung beautifully, captivating the entire audience. He had left the theater with a tear in his eye, and money in his pocket. In Ahnatep, Ifran was nobility.

Here, though, Ifran was just another Eypharian. This would prove... interesting.

"I hadn't expected to see anyone from the desert this far north." He admitted as his ale was set down in front of him. "Are you here in Alvadas for any particular reason, or just passing through?"

[Ifran]

"Nyahnasasin," he said, mimicking the sibilants and syllables perfectly, although he did not speak the language of the Dhani. Sometimes having an ear trained to listen paid off. But he was no mind reader, no, not him. He was a rather good judge of character, but kept his judgments to himself on most occasions. "I have come to learn the art of the Alvads," he admitted, "though the chill of a northern winter does not suit me. I think perhaps I will leave well ahead of the next Winter so as to avoid an unwanted repetition. I would imagine you despise the cold even more than I do." This place, at least, was well heated, though one could never tell when things were real in Alvadas. He supposed of his Dhani companion fell into a torpor, that would be a sign. Ifran tried to stay on top of things like that; he did not think anyone here had reason to harm him, but he would not put it past some schemer from Ahnatep to reach out for him here, seeking a lowered guard.