Staying healthy is beautiful(Wrenmae)

[Iris Timandre]

34th of Summer, 512
It was mid day on the thirty forth of five twelve. Iris wore her white dress, the dress was long enough to reach right above her knees the rest was the skin on her knees down to her lower legs. Her backpack also sat on her left. The Konti healer, Iris Timandre, sat on a bench inside the Temple of Laviku. Being a very religious healer Iris made sure to visit this temple at least once a week because of the bond he shared with Mura. The sea God was the one that allowed Iris to make it to Zeltiva, hurt but still alive. Traveling wasn't something anyone could come out of with no scratches unless you were the deity.

Keeping her hands clapped together Iris closed her eyes and prayed very lowly to Laviku. "You made my trip possible. I never had the chance to thank you personally. I'll make coming to this temple a weekly deal." Iris opened her eyes and looked around the Temple only to see a man.

This man, Iris know she's seen at least once or twice moving through Zeltiva. But the city indeed did have alot of people. So she probably could have mistaken someone else for him. Iris looked at the man for two seconds and then looked away again. She didn't want him to know she was staring. Her blue eyes' gaze found it's way back to the man's face. This time she didn't look away.

Catching herself, Iris looked down to the ground and clapped her hands together whispering. "Please Laviku, make him notice me." The Konti pulled her blond hair back behind her ears to show her entire face.

If it was one thing Iris hated it was having an ugly appearence. The Konti tried to at least look decent most of the time. Her job helped her be able to afford nice clothing. Though not the best, they were still comfortable.

The Timandre couldn't help but be curious about the man. She placed her right leg over her left leg to cross them.

[Wrenmae]

His mind was on Tock. When he walked, he moved in and out of dreams, stepping from the reality of the Zeltivan streets to bloody visions of plot and violence he’d visit on the red haired Sunberthian. Around him, murmured greetings and whispers followed him. He was the Wave Guard Trident Knight, he was the Wrenmae that was gaining slow popularity among the citizens. Ordinarily, Shroud might have basked in that quiet adoration, but today his mind was bent to a different task. How best to go about it? He knew her weaknesses simply by observation. She treated her abominable little toys like children and she had a heart for the sickly glassmaker. Two strands he could pull, two avenues he could tread…perhaps both at once. No, it was an incomplete thought. Was he to simply visit random and senseless tragedy on her? No. It would prove nothing, it would not SATE him. No, instead he’d think of something else, work with the plots he already set in motion. The sound of the sick no longer bothered him. Hacking coughs, wheezes, the sneezes and mumbled complaints were a heartbeat to him now, followed regardless of place. Humanity, no, all the speaking races spoke as one in this regard. Always the silently complaining, always the eternally weak. His path was beset on all sides with that most potent tapestry of man, all falling victim to the same tragedies that befell their fathers. Disease, corruption, poison…these were as eternal as Dira. For as man breathed, there would be forces rising on either side to steal that breath away. Or maybe he was simply too dramatic. “My thoughts exactly,” Zan quipped lightly, “Pay more attention to where you are for once. We missed like…three crimes.” “Thanks for piping up,” Shroud muttered to him, running a hand through his hair with a sigh, “Top notch work.” “I wasn’t hired to do this job, you were.” “Aren’t you my partner?” “Regrettably, I do seem to need you around…but let’s just say this whole blue man of justice shyke isn’t sitting fancy on my mind.” “Would a murderous thief do you better?” “Why yes! Far more exciting!” “Temper that excitement with a little fear of death, will you? This isn’t Sunberth.” “I’m aware of that,” Zan chuckled, “The buildings are all standing up straight.” Shroud sighed the familiar off, taking a look at his surroundings for the first time since he’d begun his patrol. The temple of Laviku, a familiar sight. He frowned, always a bit uncomfortable to be in front of the patron god of the city. Sometimes he felt that the sea god could see him, knew that his presence poisoned his fair city, and that he’d come with rising tides and pounding waves to finish what he hadn’t last summer. Those days, floating on flotsam, they were not experiences he wanted to repeat. Light caught Iris’s hair, drawing his eyes to her and way from the imposing reminder of divine scrutiny. For a moment, the light off her skin and hair was blinding, her complexion practically glowing beneath the hot summer blaze. Off balance, he stumbled back two steps, rubbed his eyes and then smiled, shaking his head. Imagine that, caught off guard by a woman, how cliché. Still, she drew his attention, and so he strode toward her. Smiling, pushing his hair back over his head and reminding himself that he had the uniform, the control, the circumstance, he gave a short bow. “Certainly,” he began, querying her with his eyebrow, “You cannot be a Zeltivan native. I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful before.” It was half true. “Tell me,” he continued, squatting to eye level with a disarming grin, “Where are you from, and what brings you to our fair city?”

[Iris Timandre]

34th of Summer, 512
That same male actually came up to Iris to talk. The Konti's icy blue eyes trailed all the way up Wrenmae's body until she made that vital eye contact. Another smile formed on Iris Timandre's face, without her even knowing it. Iris folds her arms without uttering another word to the handsome man.

The Konti felt great, she had just gotten a compliment from the very beginning. It left her wondering if she really was as beautiful as the man claimed her to be. It surely did make Iris more confident about her outer looks.

Iris nodded when the man said she couldn't have been a Zeltivan native. He was right, Iris was born and raised on Konti Isle. Secretly, Iris hoped the man had known some things about Mura. Or even that it existed so she wouldn't have to go through the entire process of explaining it and where it is, again.

The man then grinned at Iris. She blinked twice. In the Konti's head she screamed people like you are the reason I'm in your fair city! The Konti responded to the man. "First of all, I'm Iris. Second you're correct. I'm not Zeltivan."

"I'm a Konti from Mura. And the reason I'm here? To work as a healer. Nice to meet you." That was something half true. Iris was in Zeltiva to work AND answer the call. But she decided not to tell this man all of that information. Iris extended her pale hand to touch the human male's hand, as a greeting.

[Wrenmae]

“Mura, eh?” The Waveguard asked, raising an eyebrow, “I’ve never been. I hear it’s called the White isle, and that most everyone there is a woman.” He looked Iris up and down, unabashedly taking in her form. She was a beautiful creature, silver scales gleaming from her skin as they caught the afternoon light. Dazzling, brilliant, she brought the eyes of the unwary to her bosom, her face, the suggestive curve of her body. “If they are much like you,” he mused aloud, “I cannot see any sane man wishing to return from such a place.”

You’re such a charmer

Sarcasm?

Maybe? I’m only kind of paying attention.

Widen your horizons, Zan, we have a guest.

Widen your own horizons. I live in your stomach. The most social interaction I get is from your lunch.

Perhaps I should eat something living then.

Oh. Good. Then I can watch it die as well.

Have you no optimism?

You try living in a stomach and talk to me about optimism.

Very well, familiar, I’ll leave you be.

Damn right you will. Next time, lighter on the spices.

You can taste?

I prefer to be a mystery.

Sighing, turning his attention back on her, Shroud took the seat beside the Konti and leaned back. The summer day was hot, a beating sort of heat that settled squarely on his shoulders. He sweat beneath his blue uniform, and the hilts of his blades were hot to the touch.

“Quite a day,” he continued, whisking a drop of sweat beading on his forehead, “Would you care to accompany me to a cooler place to converse?” There was hope in his smile, confidence as well, but mostly the edge of interest. “I can promise you a drink to take the edge from the summer heat.”