Candle Conversations

[Ssezzkero]

87th of Spring, 516AV

The soft rumble of voices in the square was more comforting to the snake as she followed her employer into the square. She had heard of the daily festival of this market, and the prospect of trying to watch her employer's wares in the chaos was a little daunting.

So to see a regular market place was much more satisfying when she entered. Either way she wasn't much of a haggler, and customers rarely visited her stall. Perhaps she needed to be more friendly, the but Iyvess wasn't in the mood. Today was supposed to be her day off, it was the end of the season. Yet, she'd volunteered to watch the stall so the Sacred Flame could secure the religious market. Outside of the store, they simply sold candles, the kind everyone used and needed.

"Why does this one have brown chunks it in?" The nasal voice of a human rung out from the front of her stall. Sezkero had been fiddling with the frayed end of her headscarf, not really paying attention to the customers passing by.

"Huh?" She snapped back to reality, that afternoon heat lulling her into a sleepier state.

"Why. Are. There. Brown--"

"Lavender." She interrupted the annoying tone the Nykan used with her. She had quickly adopted their clothes and looked like any other human, but it was clear by the hollowness in her cheeks and the bones poking out of her fingers that she was living off of charity rations. Yet, she was eating only part of those. The nomad had much experience with being an unwanted foreigner, but she never appreciated it.

"Wouldn't it be purple… you know, like lavender?"

"Once it isss dried and boiled in the wax, it is brown." She informed the lady, hopping off her stool. It was an underwhelming experience, she was always much taller when sitting on the high stools that the stall had. It was only encouraging the lady's intent on treating her like a child.

"It ssstill sssmellsss like lavender." She tried to be more sociable for the lady. Sezkero's boss may not be so happy if she was crabby to the customers. "Lasstsss for an hour… Lavender isss good for calming. Light it before you go to bed, and you get a good night'sss sssleep." She offered the information, popping the 'p' at the end. In all reality the Iyvess had little idea what she was talking about, her sole purpose was to make the dip candles that everyone used. Scents, herbs and colors were beyond her. But she was going to sell them anyhow.

"Huh, how much?" The woman asked.

"One Laat." Her tongue bent around the foreign word, as if her sibilant accent was not enough to proclaim her a foreigner, this uncertainty with their currency would for sure.

"Two for one Laat." The lady said immediately. Semele's Stone, just take the candle. She groaned to herself, dreading the haggling.

"That's our pricce ma'am. Take it or leave it." She shrugged, holding a hand out for either the coin or the candle back. The woman pursed her lips, but deposited a single coin in her hand anyhow.

"Have a good one!" Sezkero chimed in, popping the coin into the company purse and turning immediately back for the shade of the stool behind the stall.

[Khemkhaengawut]

87 - Spring - 516 AV

The shirtless Chaktawe was, as imagined, doing his best flexing poses to attract those hundreds – thousands! – of people that wanted to work for him. Everyone wanted a piece of his mind, a place by his side on the anvil, a glimpse of his smile to warm their hearts. At least, that was the objective. Having been waiting for quite a while now, his muscles were already getting sore from the sole intensity of the flexing itself and yet nobody came to listen to his words. In fact, most of the citizens ignored him despite being shirtless, which was quite impossible to bear for someone of his ego. His objective were the young ones, the children that didn’t know what they were doing, their minds being unprepared for the world and him being the beast that hid in the bushes. It was them his black pupils looked for, the square being full of kids who held their parent or parents’ hands as they went from stand to stand. Very few times he spotted a lonesome kid whose parents had either stopped to watch some merchandise and left him alone, or whom had simply lost track of them and dwelled lost in the wilderness that were the crowds. Those were Khemkhaengawut’s favorite ones.

He had been tracking one of them for quite a while, the boy eating a small loaf of bread as he stared somewhere into the sky. The Chaktawe made sure he was alone, as many chimes had passed since the boy stood absentmindedly in the same position. At last, the red-skinned giant approached the child with the worst of intentions. He was going to snatch that kid with such a grace that bards would craft a hundred rhymes. “Kid! Do you want to grow big and strong like me!? Come to be my apprentice at the Ocean’s Forge and I will turn you into a man! Hammers, steels, power, glory...” His words came out so loudly that the kid was far more than startled, his small pants wetting themselves as he stared up at the overgrown male and the black pupils that were watching him. Dropping his loaf of bread, the youth would turn around and quickly run away as a wail joined in the already loud square. “Mom! Mom! The Aperture took that man’s eyes…!” Such was the message the Chaktawe managed to hear before the child’s wail lost itself in the crowd, sighing and gazing down at the ruined loaf of bread. It had fallen directly into the small pond of pee.

Rubbing his head, the recruitment didn’t go as well as he wanted. His lacking limb was a big problem whenever he had to perform his profession, and despite being able to work without it, it was way better to teach his trade to someone else. Kids were perfect for that, not only because they leaned fast, but because they didn’t demand payment. Perhaps next time. Looking around for another victim, his eyes rested on a small stand that apparently focused on selling candles. Quite mundane compared to his task of recruiting a boy and turning it into a master. Nonetheless, he decided to approach it. The frown on his face greeted the female that stood behind the stall, his self-centered existence not quite bothering to inspect the vendor but instead browsing through the merchandise. The moment he reached and stopped before it, he had already picked something.

Taking a hold of one of the candles, he’d raise it for the female to see as he immediately spoke: “Did you know that experienced and accomplished armorers like me use candle wax to spread across hinges in armor? It prevents the metal from screeching when a breastplate, for example, is opened.” Lifting the candle to his nose, he’d sniff the scent of the candle. A grunt escaped his throat before he returned the candle more or less from where it came from. “I need something without a scent, something neutral that can’t be sniffed out by an animal. Do you have something like that, woman?”

[Ssezzkero]

Experienced and Accomplished. An amused grin pulled the edges of her lips up at the words. She didn't have any grounds to doubt them, but she was amused by how he used them. Did he think so highly of himself?

"Candle wax?" She asked, hopping off her stool once more. She picked up the dull simple knife from behind the stall, and crossed her arms. "Ssshhhouldn't you jusst buy beesswax?" She muttered, not really talking to him. She leaned on the edge of the stall, hovering under the boundaries of the sanctuary the shade offered.

"Of coursse we have regular candlesss. What would we do if not sssell regular candlesss?" She asked, trying very hard not to sound amused. She had to get better at this socializing thing. She reached over to put the candle back where it belonged, among the other chamomile variety, before pointing above her. Up near his head, but far past hers, were dip candles. Of her own making, the simplest kind. Two long pale candles attached by their wicks that had not yet been cut, and slung over the railing near the top of the stall. Towards the ends of the rack, there were colored varieties, but everything beneath was a thick cylindrical candle that required no stand to hold up right.

"Perhapsss a sssimple dip candle, boy?" She offered, really unable to bite back the degrading title. Only so because the man before her was so clearly not a boy, and seemingly prepared to flaunt that fact. She was in fact surprised he hadn't just mistaken her for a child, but she didn't like the casual naming of her gender, as if to ignore her. She was petty, so what?

[Khemkhaengawut]

It was surprising how mean all the people in this city were. Not just in this city, but pretty much everywhere the armorer went he was given a hostile treatment. Since it was obviously not his fault, it must have been that everyone was so miserable with their lifestyles and choices that they had to take it on someone else to at least spread their misery like a disease. Not this girl on the other side of the stand, however. Her compliment hit the Chaktawe rather harshly, as the women that usually chased after him weren’t nearly as pretty as she was. Usually, the street workers or tavern drunks that chased after him were either old hags that wanted to feed on his youth, or young and tortured girls that didn’t know what they were doing. Slightly taken aback, he’d smirk as he raised his head and arched his brow, unsure as to how to exactly proceed here. A light chuckle rumbled out of his throat, his pectorals immediately starting a small flexing routine as they bounced up and down – the right one being somewhat smaller due to the missing limb. Those pectorals of his were like a dog’s tail that reacted independently to different stimulus, apparently.

“Heh…” Truly, her compliment was most appreciated. Just as he thought he was starting to age, something unthinkable for a man of his status, this gal had complimented him. ‘Boy’… It was true that he was in better shape than most of this city’s individuals, that his pectorals were capable of stopping an axe without a scratch, that his flesh was covered in the prettiest inks she had probably seen, and that his skill with a hammer was worthy of an entire collection of manuscripts accounting every motion of his skilled hands, but it felt good for someone to recognize it for once. This girl was obviously in love with him. He only wished he had brought his book so that he could type the memory within to never forget it. Glancing up, he’d stick his nose against the candles and sniff them. They certainly didn’t smell to any stupid flowers or essences, at least not all of them. He wasn’t making armor for women, and thus pretty odors were not welcome. The smell of sweat, blood and alcohol was all he wanted to imbue in his craft. Reaching up with his good hand, he’d freeze as instead he stared down at the female. “How much?”

Independently from her answer, he’d take three of them and roll them around in his hand. They would be useful, indeed. Returning his gaze to her once again, he’d display his smirk once again. “Want to go out with me, woman? Maybe get some alcohol and enjoy spring time. I still have some leftover bread from yesterday’s rations in my room if you are hungry. We can share. HA!” His peculiar scoff, his most peculiar trait and product of many nightmares in those that have heard it repeatedly over the years, was not as mocking as usual in this occasion. Then again, this was left for the female to figure out, as he did seem to be serious about his proposal. He even winked. “You’ll have fun.”

[Ssezzkero]

The grin broke into a giggle, when the inked chest before her began to move. At first the movement had distracted her, as she'd not seen such a display before, but when she realized what he was doing, she began laughing. She had no idea how, but each pectoral bounced independent, as if dancing. Surely he was a very humorous man. Stepping back, she had to take a moment to cover her mouth with her hands, unable to stop the laughing that bent her at the ribs, making her headscarf fall from her ears.

Even when he asked the question, she had to take a moment before she could answer, straightening out the orange fabric above her hair once more. "Four pairs for a Laat." She answered finally, holding out her hand so she could cut the wicks for him. She snapped the wicks off, leaving short cropped stubs for lighting, still grinning.

“Want to go out with me, woman? Maybe get some alcohol and enjoy spring time. I still have some leftover bread from yesterday’s rations in my room if you are hungry. We can share. HA!” She flashed her teeth at him, handling the handles back as he scoffed. Did she offend him by laughing. Was amusing her not his intention with this silly display? Unsure, she let the scoff slide. She'd been having a sulky enough day it was nice to have a good laugh.

"Oh, yeah?" She gave a quick, amused huff in return. Was he still just messing with her? Likely. The entire exchange seemed a joke to him, so she laughed it off as well. "Yeah, sure, okay. Wooing women into your bed with old bread. A very solid plan," She sobered immediately, intent on playing along. Turning her russet eyes to him, she gave the most serious expression she could muster at the moment, yet another reflection of her pitiful acting skills. "And, why haven't you found a wife yet?"

[Khemkhaengawut]

The oblivious Chaktawe didn’t quite get the laugh of the female, and so he immediately considered said reaction to be positive in his rather pathetic attempt of courtship. To think he was succeeding as he did was very surprising to him, as usually his desired women had to be blind drunk for his attempts to work even vaguely. He must’ve been advancing in his charm skills! With new energy, he’d extract his pouch of coins and extract a Laat to pay the female. Wide grin on his face, he’d scoff once more with his loud ‘HA!’ before proceeding with his courtship. “There isn’t much more I can offer you to eat. I’ve been eating that bread ever since I got here and no place sells any food. That’s why I offered you some alcohol. I can offer you to take you to my forge and show you the beauty of my craft, but I don’t want to rush our relationship. You’ll surely fall in love with me if you were to see my work. HA!”

Raising his head, with his peripheral vision he’d see an individual pass right behind him, to which the Chaktawe turned around and poke him with his gimped arm. “You! Want to know the secrets of the steel!? Head to the Ocean’s Forge and I’ll shove some knowledge in that small head of yours!” The poor way of advertising his craft was pretty obvious for the Nykan, who stared at the Chaktawe with sinister intentions before stepping back and leaving, surely promising himself to lift some weight in order to one day be able to face such a gigantic man like Khemkhaengawut. Grunting, the Armorer turned back towards the female. “Been looking for a lady of my own race for a while now. I forgot that most of them are in the desert. You, however, are pretty enough to adorn my arm even if you aren’t a Chaktawe.” Sniffing the candles once more, he made sure they were adequate once again. Still unaware of the weird pronunciation of the S sound by the female, he didn’t give it much thought as he’d rather get laid than to think about unimportant details.

“I know that sitting here selling candles must be very entertaining, and you can sit here all day listening to these whiny weaklings,” he said, trying to hold back his laughter, “… or you can come with me and enjoy yourself for once. I imagine spending the day with a man as handsome, strong and humble is surely one of your fantasies. HA!” Very casually, Khemkhaengawut would raise his good arm to rub on his head, making sure he flexed his biceps that popped out with all its grace, like the sun that raised at dawn until his arm fell back down. Anyone could’ve realized he was trying to impress her, or even persuade her with his muscles. They would be correct. “What do you say, woman?”

[Ssezzkero]

"Pretty enough? I am ssso flattered." She placed a hand over her forehead and leaned back a bit as if to swoon. The insult was so casual she almost didn't notice it, but this stranger was beginning to irritate her. By now the Iyvess could tell that he was not understanding, or at least choosing to ignore her sarcasm, but she continued on. Sezkero didn't feel like backtracking and explaining to this man that she meant the opposite of what she said. "What do I sssay?" She asked finally, eyeing the clear muscle show.

She was sure it may impress any other woman, but she was disgusted by how his man flaunted his violent nature. She didn't take kindly to most of the weapon-mongering, barbaric people that surrounded the various cities throughout Mizahar. She usually did her best to avoid such encounters, but this man was not giving up.

"I sssay you are entertaining, by only becausse you are ssso idiotically full of yoursself, you fail to look around you. Why haven't you found one of your own? Perhapsss a one-armed freak like you--" Not particularly softly, she prodded his bare chest with a sharp finger, and then stepped back automatically. "--who abandonsss his own culture isss not flattering to any woman in her sssane mind, even if she wasss interessted in men. Which I am not. Ssso leave me alone." The Iyvess had known quite a few Chaktawe, since they were one of the races who valued her Goddess the most, and it was clear he did not have the same values of his people.

"That isss what I sssay." She crossed her arms, taking two more steps back. She rejected violence in her life, but suddenly it felt like a horrible idea to be breaking the truth to the giant before her.

A little amused with herself, a grin pulled on one side of her mouth as she tried to suppress it, seeing what he would do. Sezkero had never met anyone like him before, so perhaps he would not react nearly how the small Iyvess expected.