Completed [Soothing Waters] Lap Of Luxury (Matthew)

[Razkar]

Just when you think the victory is secured...

The battle was over and the war was won, but the human apparently did not know when he was defeated. Razkar knew he shouldn't have clung to that mindset, as this was far from the right setting for it, but he didn't expect the counter-attack Matthew launched at him.

Nor how unprepared he would be.

"You are always with her; at least whenever I am there. She either glances off in the distance and smiles, or actually talks about you. And whatever happened that day, even after getting hurt, you were still with her when I came to visit her. Would she have been hurt if you had left her a long time ago?"

Razkar blinked, surprise breaking through the surface of the cold disdain covering his face. She talked about him? Without shame or fear? Like he was a... friend? Something more? Razkar had idly wondered how others discussed him. Probably as they would some feral beast or fearsome monster, to be avoided in the street. But her...

"I... did not know-"

"I just find it odd that you both latch onto each other with this certain level of unspoken commitment, but can't do each other the simple respect of actually making it real. Firm. Are you just going to walk this line forever?"

The human plowed onward, words gaining strength, power, confidence, and in the span of half a chime the Myrian was on the defensive. He went from stock-still standing to feeling around for the edge of the marble bath, sitting down slowly... entranced and, he had to admit, impressed.

"I... I don't-"

"Or just leave one day? Is it fair to lead her along, lead her into harms way, where she will happily follow in the hope that something may happen? Though, to be fair, she is probably doing it to you too. Knowing her, she probably made you jump into that... Suvan."

Even though the human snorted, Razkar just stared. Matthew squirmed almost imperceptibly, sure that he'd crossed some terminal line and the debt would be paid, well, terminally. But Razkar's gaze lowered, inch by inch, until he looked more like...

"I know." The whispered words were barely heard over the steam, but such weight was behind them... or on them. "So... hard. Such to leap. To take chance."

His eyes looked up sharply and those same black orbs as before didn't so much bore into Matthew's as captured them, a whisper of that same tone he'd used before in his voice when he spoke again.

"It does... scare. You were right. But... No... is no 'but'." A strange, wan smile creased his lips and he shook his head, arching his back as he cracked stiff vertebrae and smoothed his long black hair out of his face and down the back of his skull. "Too long linger and wait and dance on... line?"

He snorted his amusement and appraised the human a little longer. A kindling of respect was in there now, for both his courage and his insight. Razkar rose and extended his hand, his other dipping down to adroitly palm the dagger he'd come in with and tuck it down the back of the towel secured around his waist. The smile grew, became bright and bereft of fear or damn introspection, and when the human grasped his hand...

"She make you swim, too, hmm?"

[Matthew]

Matthew had managed to slink so far down into the water that his mouth was now covered, and the bubbles were tickling at his nose. He resisted the urge to sneeze at first, but it soon overcame him, the harlot gurgling a bit in the pool water as he blew bubbles everywhere. Almost instantly he sunk even further, as if worried that his little outburst would draw even further ire from the Myrian. If anything, he looked like a little boy who was worried about a scolding from his father. His relief was apparent then, when Razkar's face relaxed and his black eyes revealed more than just Matthew's reflection. The harlot expelled a breath of air he had been holding, a few more bubbles popping to the surface in the bath water, the man feeling quite a few different pressures releasing on his intimidated self. When the hand was extended, Matthew eyeballed it for a moment, not quite so sure what to do. He wasn't sure he was going to shake it, or if he was supposed to get out of the bath. In the end, he did both, tugging himself out of the tub and then giving the large hand a firm and awkward shake before stepping over to his towel. He donned it in a quick blur, then turned to the warrior, giving him a nod. Just like that, the previous fear vanished, replaced with a look of slight irritation. If he had noticed he had gained some form of respect, he didn't show it. He was just glad to be in something that felt like safe territory. "Yes. She said she was just going to show me the boat, and then we were out so far into the Suvan that I could barely see Syliras. Have you noticed how she steers the ship? I nearly fell off the ship about a dozen times. And then that thing where she dips her hand in the water and then acts all-knowing about the surrounding wildlife?" Matthew made a face, though if Razkar looked, he would notice the slightest of twinkles in Matthew's blue eyes. "I think she does that just to help me feel safe so the sharks can get to me easier." He was familiar with the idea that it was a Mark of some sort, but that didn't make him feel any better. Until he was the one that could stick his hand in the water and find out that there were no nearby sharks, then he wouldn't trust her as far as he could throw her. She had kidnapped him to the middle of the ocean, after all. He had enjoyed himself in the end, but still. It was the idea that counted. "You'll figure the two of you out though, I am sure. I am not too worried. I am not paid to be worried. I plan on offering that sort of little talk we had for some coin, I think. Perhaps 5 Mizas." The twinkle was still there, the harlot now apparently just barely comfortable enough to joke around a bit with the Myrian. After a moment though, his look turned serious, blue eyes glancing into Razkar's black orbs. "Out of curiosity, why are you here? You stick out like a sore thumb. For someone who seems to have been molded by battle and blood, this place seems an odd choice. Do civilized people even offer someone like yourself any sort of challenge during a fight?" It wasn't meant to be an insult or a jab, as the matter-of-fact tone would hopefully betray. It was just a simple statement, and to Matthew, a fact. He didn't even mean 'civilized' in the normal way. He was referring to the way of battle. Razkar was obviously from a different place, probably fought in a completely different way, and had been raised in a different world. The people here were trained by other people, with sparring and exercises. Razkar had been defined by actual battle, and probably by fights for his life. It was a very different method of learning to fight, and Matthew thought one clearly superior to the other. "Do you plan on staying long?" It might be too personal to be asking such things, but Matthew figured he had already pressed at the most tender spot on the savage. The rest would likely feel quite nice to Razkar's ears.

[Razkar]

He still wasn't able to see whether or not the smooth harlot was pulling his leg or not, at least not just from words. The words flowed from that shapely mouth and when a price was raised, Razkar's ips quirked for a moment, and for all the world he looked like a freeloader suddenly expected to pay for something.

"You... ah..."

Then he saw that twinkle, which was gratifying in more ways than one. It showed him the clinical and intellectual male still had some madness of the soul in him... which was good. Everyone needed that, or what are we but golems, trudging placidly towards the grave?

"... oh, very funny. Ha. Ha. Male loves to make joke on savage..."

A rolling chuckle made the rounds through the marble room as the Myrian planted himself in a bench on the other side of the bath. The smile stayed on his face and it was not forced, images of Edreina's merciless teasing of him, trapped in her blue home, bubbling up through his mind and keeping the light dancing in those black stones.

"She always play Kraken with me," he said with a smile revealing every one of those filed teeth and yet not an ounce of deliberate menace, "She tell you about that? You know, ah... squid? Eight-pus? They are... strange, slimy creature. Made of legs and big brain with... bird beak. Strange. And live in water. She say that there are huge ones in Suvan-" his arms spread out like a fisherman boasting of a hall, voice bouncing off the walls "-called Kraken, big to take ship!"

His hand jutted out with a wry grin pointing at Matthew and then back at himself.

"She is Kraken... and she make me ship! No, is not funny! I not learn to swim until least season! And she make me like swim toy..."

But, of course, he found himself chuckling along, steam in the room no bar to their budding friendship, though it curled and hazed between them like the whims of the Dreamscape. Finally Razkar let his head roll back, staring up at that violent mosaic... and it seemed to stoke the human's question to him even more.

"Ha! You would think that, hmm? But no... no... have met match here many times. Just in Syliras. Knight called Andres, where Knights train. We spar. Was... exhilarating."

And the Myrian's breath certainly reflected that. He even licked his lips at the memory of that quick, skilled, armored enemy, nigh-invulnerable yet picked apart, little by little, a truly worthy challenge. Then he smirked as he remembered a spiky-haired brawler who was less of a threat, but grew to be more than an anecdote.

"Another, name is Kreig? He learn to talk less in fight, he will be very good. Fought once. Got some good punch on me." The smile took on a self-satisfied edge and he tried to shrug it away. "Not enough, though. But best? Was in Fighter's Pit. Human named Ximal."

Something like admiration crept into the Myrian's voice and any of his kin would have been shocked to hear it in the same breath as a barbarian appellation. But, he thought wryly, they never saw the Fists of Nykas fight...

"... he beat me. Oh, yes. Think I am god? I have been beaten. We fight without weapon, with hands, and human beat me like temple drum. But, when we fight with steel..."

That shrug again. Apparently Razkar's main defense against the ego that threatened to turn him into some strutting bully like that moron Kisetukai. Then Matthew's first question came back to him, percolating through his mind and his expression became... deeper. Meditative. Sifting through memory and past action, decisions made and regretted, perhaps, but setting events into motion that he was no bound by blood and honor to endure.

"I leave jungle to make Pilgrimage to barbarian lands."

Razkar looked up and saw a quizzical expression cross the human's face. He smiled politely at him, which just made his words even more horrifying.

"I bring gift of war to barbarian people, for the honor of Blessed Myri," he said, touching his forehead tattoo lightly at the mention of his Goddess-Queen. "Was old tradition of my people. Not many do it, but... I wanted to see barbarian lands. See peoples beyond the jungle... and send souls to her."

Silence. Sudden, chilling silence, and Razkar sighed as one would at child who simply was not understanding algebra. Finally he just shrugged.

"I not expect you to understand. You are not Myrian. But that is why I am here? As for... how much longer..." He paused as he got back to his feet, sweat rolling down his thighs, realizing the folly of hoping to dry off in this humid smoke house. "... I do not know. Many things decide that, not just me. I suppose you are here for while, hmm?"

He stretched as he listened, already making a mental list of what else he needed to do that day... but Razkar was in no hurry. Strange, how a being could go from a threat to a potential ally in one conversation.

Perhaps, the guarded and purely-Myrian part of his mind warned, but take care of your thoughts around his kind. boy. They are as changeable in moods as the number of leaves on the trees...

[Matthew]

"I suppose the joke is really on the rest of us, in the end. Your jilted Common makes people assume quite a bit about the mind underneath, I bet. You see me as intellectual, but I am sure you are just as calculating and smart. Perhaps just in a different way." He eyeballed the Myrian for a bit, staring into his black eyes again, studying his reflection in them. His thoughtful look was interrupted as Razkar sat, and Matthew blinked as Razkar grinned. When the man opened his mouth, Matthew had this feeling that he had just popped the cork to some things Razkar had wanted to say for a very long time. Just simple conversation of the woman he liked. The description of the Kraken forced out another blink, Matthew's jaw actually loosening a bit to slightly part his lips. There were things with... slimy eight-pusses? Legs and big brains? It sounded horrifying, and Matthew mentally cursed Edreina. She had told him there was nothing to worry about in the blue waters of the Suvan, but now the truth was coming out. There were even ones big enough to take a ship? Inside of his head, there was a book labeled for the Suvan Sea, and a mental Matthew was furiously filling it with notes at the moment. He would have to interrogate Razkar a little more about the ocean that Edreina had so innocently swindled him into swimming in. A few grins met Razkar's statements, but inside, Matthew's mind was working at a mile a minute. All of this sounded painfully familar to him. Was the fire-head planning on making him a swim toy? He would have to keep a close eye out for that. His brow furrowed as the topic moved to the fights Razkar had been in while here in Syliras, and Matthew nodded, mentally producing new books in his head. Each one was labeled with the name of the person that Razkar described, and noted with a few of the things that he described them with. None of the names he knew, but perhaps one day he would run into them. Better safe than sorry. He wanted to press the topic of fighting and ask a few more questions, but he held back the urge. The concept of fighting for enjoyment confused him, but he could see the delight written plainly across that briefly-horrifying face. Who was he to question something someone else enjoyed? They were all quite different. One of the reasons he likely enjoyed the Myrian's company was because of how vastly different the two of them really were. Chewing on his lower lip, he pushed back the nagging questions to the back of his mind, and allowed himself to follow Razkar to the next topic that had been brought up. This one was really the most confusing, but he did his best to hold on tight during the learning ride. There were a lot of terms he wasn't familar with, funny enough. There was Myri, there was the whole concept of this journey; though he assumed 'sending souls' to be killing people. But, when when Matthew didn't understand something... "Who is Myri? I understand she is a Goddess, and I somewhat understand her domain... but she isn't really worshipped around here. What is Myri to a Myrian?" The unspoken question about the pilgrimmage would stay unspoken for now. Perhaps the Myrian's explanation of his Goddess would help clear that particular question up. Matthew was actually quite foreign with most of the deities that Mizahar worshipped. He knew them from an intellectual standpoint, but had never held a relationship with one. He had never really be interested in it. He actually held interest in some of their plights, but that was also from a unique view. Zintila, for instance. She wasn't one he could see himself having a relationship with. But her fall... there was probably a way to get her back up to where she was rumored to have once been. What a brilliant puzzle. Matthew loved puzzles. "As for myself... Yes. Probably. I don't see myself moving away any time soon, unless something presents itself. This is a perfect place to work on my problems though. The women I bed offer a steady flow of puzzles to solve night by night... and then, well... There is plenty of time to think about the final puzzle. The final problem." Matthew's gaze was distant. Even though he was looking at Razkar, he was really looking through him. He was seeing something else, though where that was, who knew? After a few moments, the harlot snapped back to attention, blue eyes focusing again to stare as his shaded reflection. He figured the question about Myri would be enough to keep the conversation going. No doubt Razkar would have plenty to say about that particular topic. Or perhaps it would be very simple to the man. Matthew wasn't sure.

[Razkar]

Razkar reacted to the passing comment about being "sharp and calculating" with a customary shrug and half-smile. He found that many barbarians believed that after a few conversations with him... but that was only because they expected all Myrians to be barely above Yukmen and about as sophisticated.

This one, though... he means it as a compliment. He isn't just surprised I can string three thoughts together.

"Who is Myri? I understand she is a Goddess, and I somewhat understand her domain... but she isn't really worshiped around here. What is Myri to a Myrian?"

Then the question came to The Mother of Battles, and his smile... well, it didn't falter, but it didn't shine with that carefree camaraderie it possessed before. For barbarians to talk of Myri around her children had always been a sensitive subject; many a blood feud and bar brawl had been started by some Kalean or Syliran talking lightly of the Goddess-Queen.

Razkar's eyes became serious, his gaze focused. The human could see beyond his own reflection now: to that burning core of fanaticism that truly drove the Myrian. A devotion that bespoke of a lifetime freely given in service. A soul that knew it would return, again and again, under the command of that terrible beauty, sitting on her black throne... and accepted it.

"Ask the tree what water is." His voice was hushed, soft as the steam around them. "Ask the stars what the sky is. She is the mother of us all. Blessed Myri-" he touched the tattoo on his forehead at the mention of her name "-watch over all her children. Make empire out of savages."

He noticed the slight change in the human's face and he nodded.

"Ah, yes. Think we are savage now? Ha! Should have seen in long ago years. She give us purpose. She make us strong. Cleanse jungle and make us see we are brother and sister."

He straightened up and sighed. Would the human understand? Could he? How could you explain such... wonder, to a barbarian? They were beyond the light of Myri, Razkar had always been told, and thus they feared and hated her, and her children. But this... Matthew? He was a seeker of knowledge?

A smile bloomed. Slow. Familiar. And it ached, in Matthew's eyes, of some loss and sadness that he would have thought alien to such a brutal countenance. The Myrian took and breath and nearly sighed like a lovesick boy, shaking his head...

"You make me think of someone. From the jungle."

The human spoke his peace an Razkar found himself frowning by the end. His Common was far from perfect but... "problem"? He'd heard mean wax poetic and philosophical about the mystery of life, yes, but labeling it a problem spoke of something more. Then his face, suddenly unfocused, looking through Razkar and into something fathomless.

I didn't know better, I'd say it was a female.

The Myrian leaned forwards, forearms resting on his knees, full weight of his gaze upon the human.

"What is 'problem' you speak?" Razkar was no good at gentle coaxing: his usual methods for information-gathering were either politeness, mizas or casual dismemberment. They seemed to suffice in most cases. Matthew would be a more subtle problem. "Not know if I can help, but always told that talk of problem, might help problem."

Then he snorted at his own words, leaning back and wiping his flowing locks of wet black hair to the back of his head, chest and arms tightening as he did so. A wry and self-satirizing smile was on his face.

"But I usually tell those people to shut petch up, so what I know, eh?"

[Matthew]

Matthew listened to the Myrian intently, his expression blank but his eyes as focused as always. He was perhaps a little too open when it came to absorbing new knowledge. There was something of a moral gray area whenever he was learning. He could certainly understand the moral implications of any given topic, but that is all it was: an understanding. The Myrian could have told him that Myri wanted him to chop the heads of young children clean off, and Matthew would have just nodded and jotted down the mental note. He was completely still in the water, only blinking whenever the smile bloomed across Razkar's face. A genuine smile seeping with emotion was a tad odd from the savage, and it actually made Matthew feel just a tad uncomfortable. At the same time though, it was a bit nice. It showed that he wasn't just an intimidating machine. Not completely. He was silent for a little bit, but then eventually spoke. The fantaticism in the man's eyes was intriguing, though just slightly scary. Matthew pushed down the fear, forming words that were just a tad quiet. "You should show me sometime." It was as simple at that. He didn't really specify, instead allowing Razkar to interpret how he would show Matthew. The best way to better learn about the relationship between Savage and God would be to watch it in action. Was there prayer? Sacrifice? Celebration? Perhaps one day he would find out. He left the aching smile and accompanying comment alone. He was curious who, but it seemed like a tender point to be pressing. He could hold back his questions for now. Perhaps it would be a good conversation starter in the future. Faintly, he wondered if he would ever get to meet this person. Were they still involved? Was it a woman? How did Razkar know someone like Matthew? He wanted to see this person, and maybe then he would understand how he looked in the eyes of the savage. The final topic caused Matthew to finally shift, the water rippling around him as he leaned back to stare at Razkar. He knew his problem wouldn't make sense. Not because the Myrian had a different mindset than most, but because it was just so very... different. Almost crazy. Matthew didn't think he was crazy, though. Just very different from most. Resuming a bad habit, Matthew tugged on his lower lip with his teeth, contemplating the idea of actually verbalizing his problem out loud. Could he even do it, he wondered? He supposed he could try. The Myrian had shared something seemingly intimate with him. It would be customary to at least return the favor. "Let's see what you tell me, then." The words burst out, Matthew not actually giving a sign he was going to talk. He was just a statue that suddenly became animated, it seemed. "You are familar with how we seem to think with both our minds, and our hearts? Our brain tells us to do one thing, our heart says to do the other. Sometimes that thing between our legs chimes in as well." Matthew paused, took a breath, and then spit it out. "It is a disease. To me, it feels like a plague. It is a mortal condition that we are all born with, but my mind screams out against it. There is a nagging feeling, a tick, a voice, a push, a sensation. It tells me to cure myself. And quite honestly, I want to be cured. All the wondering about the purpose of life, the fears, the sorrows, the happiness... I want it gone. But how? Even if men surpress emotion, like I do, that doesn't solve my problem." He tapped the side of his head, eyes oddly bright, this strange desperation dancing behind his gaze. He had mentioned earlier that he didn't like emotion, that it scared him. But there was something else in his stare. This natural part of his human self haunted him. "I am the Final Problem. My own heart, fighting against my own mind. And I can't figure out how to win." He stared even harder, gaze more focused than it ever had been, a variety of emotions dancing behind the blue. It was the very thing he had just spoke of, and they were so very obvious. His stare was like a window into his soul. "I started with the most basic. That need for intimacy and love? It dulls with every woman I sell myself to. It has taken years, though. It isn't enough. It isn't fast enough." He was still pointing to the side of his head, and his finger dug into it a little as he pressed it home. "It is still a problem. The problem."

[Razkar]

"I think you make problem where is no problem, my friend..."

The human cocked his head like a bird shown a summoning trick and Razkar chuckled. He shrugged lightly, hands spread as if to show he had nothing to hide.

"You see 'problem'? Rest of world see 'life'. You think that to have heart is disease?" He shook his head as if disgusted by the notion, lips curling in distaste. "No. Because what is other thing? To live like... golem? Heard of them? Big, clay things of wyrd from north lands. No heart, no desire, nothing but clay and orders."

The Myrian shifted a little, sensing his broken, uncultured Common was making about as much headway as a chocolate trebuchet. He sighed, leaning back and scratching his chin. Matthew's intellect was... somewhat intimidating do him, or had been, but now? He seemed to regard the human with something between pity and revulsion. To throw away your emotions and feelings, sacrifice them on the altar of logic and... what? A "cure"? Peace?

"Peace you seek is peace of grave." He said with a sigh, his face becoming serious now his chuckle had died and his contemplation became stark. The human was actually reaching out to him, in his own awkward way; the least he could do was treat that with some gravitas. "Wonder about purpose? About life? About what is after?" He snorted, waving a dismissive hand as if at a pesky mosquito. "Scholar and mage have argued and talked and talked about things since your kind and mine walk straight. Thousands of years. And? No answers. You worry too much, human..."

Again, he could see doubt in those blue eyes... and Razkar mentally scolded himself. Well, what did you expect? One little speech from you and he' skip away with a spring in his step? Another grimace made his lips quirk and twist and finally he ran a hand through his thick locks, looking down at the tiles as he got to his feet.

He was plenty clean. But now he was hungry.

"Fine thing to have discipline, Matthew," he said, and realized how little he used the man's true name, "Fine thing to think before make action. But... emotion? Thing you think is... 'disease'?" He shook his head and extended a hand to help the human up. "That is what makes life. Without, we are golem."

The human got to his feet and Razkar favored him with a twisted smirk, another flash of masculine camaraderie that was almost incongruous on the savage's face. He lightly patted the man's shoulder after giving him an exgaerrated look up-and-down.

"And far too pretty for that. Come. I starve..."

[Matthew]

Matthew nodded quickly, the motion much faster than any of his other movements had been. Revealing this intimate side had revealed a bit more. He was eager to talk, eager to share the words and thoughts that bounced around inside of his head. His finger dug even further into the side of his head, twisting a bit, curling the skin underneath it. "I know it is wrong, that is the problem. Even my head knows. Mortals are given emotions to experience and survive and live. Then why does it make my head hurt?" He narrowed his eyes, unaware of the fact that Razkar had picked up on something very important. In a way, he was crying for help. Matthew described it like a disease, and to him, it was. The thought that his emotion clouded his logic gnawed on his mind, constantly bothering him. It was almost a physical touch, or a noise. The stronger the emotion got, the worse the chewing became. It would actually physically hurt sometimes. He knew this pointed to something being wrong, and that is why he refused to speak about it most of the time. Spilling it was oddly relieving, though. Like a weight had been lifted. The savage didn't think he was insane, nor did he look at him with judgemental eyes. It was appreciated. Matthew relaxed his hand, realizing he was hurting himself with the pointing finger. Sighing just a bit, he nodded at Razkar again, slowly calming back down. "But, you are right. Maybe there isn't a way to fix it, besides the grave. I just wish it would stop bugging me. It is like a gnat. I'd rather just feel nothing then have to deal with the buzzing." He grimaced, making a bit of a face. "It sounds so emotional. Like something a young girl would struggle from. Emotions hurt so bad so I want them gone." He mimicked a little girl's voice at the end, then shook his head. "It is more simple than that, I suppose. No matter how many words I use to talk about it. I don't like the loss of utter control, so I am a control freak. And I the stupid noise is annoying. I'll try not to think so much." He offered the man a smile, oddly accepting of his advice. It was a light, at least. Perhaps if he just figured some way to calm everything, then it wouldn't annoy him as much. Other people were so very black and white to his eyes, so shouldn't he be able to look at himself through the same filter? It couldn't be that complicated. Golem. Is that the answer to the Problem? His jaw clenched, and he willed the sudden thought away. His brain started buzzing in displeasure, but he just ignored it. Irritation was an emotion. If he was so talented at hiding other ones, he could figure out a way to hide this one. He took the hand offered, offering a smile at the joke, then assuming a look of subtle confusion at the hunger. He would follow the man around, watching him get dressed and getting himself dressed, and then they would eventually make their way out of the Soothering Waters. Matthew bit the inside of his cheek, then spoke, unable to help himself from asking. "What do you eat? Do you just go to a tavern, or to a market, or..." He paused again, studying the Myrian, then continued on. He was painfully naive about the man, so he might as well be honest about it. "...do you hunt? Or something else?" The mention of how pretty Matthew was also made the harlot briefly wonder if the Myrian was trying to hit on him. It had just been a platonic joke though, or at least he was fairly sure. If any other signs showed up, he would have to mention it. He had only been purchased by a man once or twice. He didn't particularly enjoy it. Fully transformed back to his stoic and guarded self, Matthew stared at Razkar expectantly, curious as to how this would go. Suddenly he blinked, a previous sentence coming back to mind. Tilting his head, he spoke up again, realizing that he hadn't understood something. "Wait a moment. Earlier. When you were talking about golems. I know what they are, but what is wyrd? I have never heard of that."

[Razkar]

Suffice to say, it took Razkar much less time to get dressed than it did Matthew. Loincloth and sandals were dragged on in a twinkling, and after his sandals were strapped to his feet he simply watched the human... shaking his head.

How do they were so many... layers? Don't they overheat? Or is it a status symbol? No... probably attracts their females. That makes sense.

"What do you eat? Do you just go to a tavern, or to a market, or... do you hunt? Or something else?"

It took a blink of two for the Myrian to register the question, and then he snorted, unable to help himself at the opening the human had given. "'Something else?'" He said with a grin, getting to his feet as Matthew finished. "Well, if it is not buy or hunt, what is left? You think I beg, huh?"

He paused, just long enough for it enter Matthew's head that he may have insulted the savage... and, thus, long enough for him to grin again.

"Ah... got you!" Still chuckling, Razkar led the way out of Soothing Waters, tipping a nod to the attendant whose name he'd already forgotten, the clamor of Syliras waiting for them just beyond the door. "Know a place near here. Good food, good price, and I have mizas." Matthew opened his mouth and Razkar waved a definitive hand in the air. "Ah, not problem. Not had talk like that for a long time. Least can do is feed mouth that make words..."

"Wait a moment. Earlier. When you were talking about golems. I know what they are, but what is wyrd? I have never heard of that."

Syliras roiled and stank and bustled around the pair as they began their walk through her, Razkar leading the way. It was always the oddest feeling to him, leaving one of the buildings and not stepping into the rays of Syna. It was more like... stepping out of some hallway into an even bigger, broader hallway, only this one had carts, horses and sometimes herds of livestock moving through it.

"Thing you call 'djed'." He said by way of explanation, snapping words over his shoulder as the two of them wound through the morass of humanity. "My people call 'wyrd'. Is... thing that makes able to make golem, or make fire from hands, or change to animal... all thing that are... know word 'magic'? Used to think that wyrd was all around, in world, in jungle, in tree and soil, from Caiyha... but now read book that says that... 'djed', come from each person. From soul."

Razkar frowned contempltively, and noticed for the first time how differently he was perceived when he was with Matthew. Or, rather, how stark his own appearance became. Females looked the harlot up and down, slow and appreciatively, flirtatious smiles marring their faces, even biting their lips-

-until their eyes fell on his companion, and they hurried away, lips sudden;y contorted in horror as if he was a plague carrier. The young male felt a pang of jealousy, much as he did not care for the useless emotion, but... it stung.

He is a handsome example, that if true. Of course he garners more attention. Don't dwell on it. Some were made to seduce and fill beds; some were made to fill graves.

"So, that is answer I give, and ah-ha!" Razkar spread his arms before a storefront that reeked of fresh blood and sizzling flesh, skinned bodies of rabbits, sheep, ferrets and beavers hanging in the windows. "'Yermeera's Cavern'! Best meats I have tasted in Syliras..."

[Matthew]

It was odd, as Matthew was eyeing Razkar's clothing with the same amount of envy. If Matthew could get away with it, he would walk around all day in that sort of garb. Clothing said so much though, and this was no different. His many layers all perfectly arranged and pressed flat made people think of him as a classy and handsome man, while Razkar's garb made people automatically associate him with any other savage. Honestly, the harlot wouldn't mind being thought of as a savage if he could keep himself cool in the muggy walls of Syliras. All the bodies and sweat did little to help the already-warm atmosphere of the castle city. Resisting the urge to mumble sullenly under his breath, Matthew just went back to getting his clothes on as quickly as possible. Soon enough they were done, and he was heading for the door with Razkar. At the mention of begging Matthew quickly opened his mouth, then just as quickly furrowed his brow as the Myrian pointed out his shock and chuckled at him. Still a bit put off by the sudden change in the social atmosphere, Matthew followed along. Was he supposed to joke back? Or slap the Myrian on the back? He honestly had no idea. His references to how to react in social situations did not include this particular one. He would have to formulate that later. For now, he supposed he was on his own. Oh, and he was getting a meal. Feed mouth that make words, eh? Matthew was sudden in his next request. "Sometime when you aren't busy, I would like you to teach me how to speak your language. I am assuming Common isn't your first? You do well with it anyways." A short nod was given to the explanation of Djed, the harlot actually quite familiar with that one. "Yes. Djed. I understand." He left it at that, not really explaining any further. He tried to keep his wisdom when it came to certain magics as close to his chest as possible. It certainly helped that he was a prostitute. Not many people looked at the man whore and questioned if he was a wizard. Matthew was completely oblivious to the people who stared at it. He found it natural and predictable, as he had designed himself to be looked at. He would be worried if he didn't pull a few glances. Every woman was different, but there were large groups who appreciated the same sort of thing. He had just people watched for a little bit, adjusted his appearance and studied reactions, and then rinsed and repeated. It was like a science experiment. Test the theory to make it actual fact. The smell hit Matthew's nose before anything else, his eyes blinking and the offended nose automatically wrinkling a bit. When he finally laid eyes upon the place, he couldn't help but blink again, a tad surprised. There were fresh meats, cooked meats, a mixture of the two, and he was fairly sure he could hear some sort of livestock making noises from somewhere within the shop. The harlot didn't look particularly concerned, just absolutely fascinated. He had no idea that this was here. Did they just butcher the meats and then cook them, and that was that? Moving forward, he peered at each sort of meat with that studious glint to his eye. A woman came walking up, asking if he needed help, offering him ale with a winning smile. He politely declined, mentioning he would have water if he was to drink anything. Then, it was back to the meat. Remembering Razkar was there and the oddness he felt at the comfort that was now between them, he gave brotherly bonding a shot. His hand slapped out, thumping the back of Razkar in an enthusiastic slap. "I appreciate the meal, friend!" He chortled, trying to imitate the guffaws of other men he had heard, the sound coming out horribly choked. It was pretty obvious he was trying his best to act like many of the other men he had seen at any random bar, all of them telling random jokes that he didn't get and popping each other on the back. Too late he realized that a back-slap was usually followed by a returned back-slap, and if he was in time, he quickly stepped away from the looming Myrian. "So, what do we eat? What is this?" He pointed to one of the hanging beavers, quite confused. Razkar might notice that Matthew was now rubbing the hand that he had used to pat Razkar. He was wincing too. He had hurt himself a little.