Amid a Winter Mist (Laeraix)

[Abashai]

Timestamp: 66th Day of Winter, 509 AV
Location: Syliras
Tag: Laeraix

Syliras was saturated with moisture. A visible chilled mist hung in the air, leaving ones clothes damp and cold. It formed a slick glaze on the flagstones along the main streets. Abashai gathered his long coat tightly around himself and turned the corner from Traveler's Row. He had left his mate Nya curled up asleep inside their room at the Row, the kelvic forest cat worn out from another late night prowl.

The benshiran had intended to go to the Temple and spend some time in prayer and meditation. He preferred to spend that time outside the city, but there was nothing inviting about Syliras' climate today. So he would settle for the serenity of the Temple's sanctuary.

Abashai turned a corner, milling through a thin crowd, each citizen intent on warding off the frigid embrace of the winter fog. He heard a clatter behind him and the whinny of a distressed horse, soon followed by human yelling. Though he did not see it, he knew that someone's mount had panicked. Looking back down the narrow side street, he saw only a ghostly form in the mist, a rearing riderless mare. The beast shook its head fiercely and charged down the street towards Abashai, forcing pedestrians to flee its path. The animal was a young Zavian, and it surged forward, undeterred by the humans it trampled under foot.

The benshiran saw several people turning the corner behind him, unaware of the danger ahead. Foremost was a young woman, preoccupied with a worn staff that she twirled in her hands. The girl, clad in a worn red tunic and many-pocketed pants of the same hue, had found some distant distraction that drew her eerily golden eyes away from the street ahead.

Abashai cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted in her direction, "Hey, look out! Runaway horse!"

[Laeraix Cerys]

Laeraix couldn't help but to be amazed by Syliras. She had already been shooed out of more than one shop for standing around too long without buying anything. They called it loring... or was it litering? At the moment, Laeraix didn't care what they accused her of, as long as she got to stay in the city. She cursed Avari for the seventh time today. How could he possibly say that he cities had nothing to offer? The street performer's really interested Laeraix. She eyed one of the acrobats curiously. The man was attempting to twist his right leg around his left shoulder, until it touched his torso.
"Hey, look out! Runaway horse!"
Laeraix spun around and saw a terrified horse barreling at her, full speed, with it's reins flapping in the cold air. Laeraix swore and dove to the left. She let her shoulder hit the ground first and clenched her teeth as the her shoulder hit the dusty cobblestone and absorbed most of the blow. She was up in an instant looking for the owner of the horse. She could most definitely make his right leg go past his torso. Laeraix searched the street but couldn't tell one human from the next.
'Stupid humans' she thought to herself
She sighed and inspected her shoulder. Her favorite tunic was torn and her skin was raw and bleeding in a few places. After a few moments, she moved her arm in a slow circle. It wasn't dislocated, but it would be badly bruised for a few days. She looked and saw the man that had warned her. He was tall, much taller than she was. His clothes were all brown and he had a sword at his hip. His tattoo's fascinated her. She had seen few tattoo's in Syliras and his were quite stunning. She smiled at him warmly, but inwardly she distanced herself from him. She was injured, and now was not the time to let her guard down.
"Thank you, I appreciate the warning."

OOC: The word up there that Laeraix was struggling with was 'loitering', by the way.

[Abashai]

Abashai flattened himself against a stone wall as the startled Zavian charged up the narrow street towards the junction with the main road. The benshiran observed the woman in red roll out of the mad horse's path, landing with a sound thud on her shoulder, but employing her momentum to swiftly propel herself back to her feet, all with her quaterstaff still in hand. The maneuver brought the curious woman to within a few feet of him, greatly impressing Abashai.

Three men ran past, most certainly the rider and two stable hands by the frightful looks on their faces. They quickly retrieved the mare, who had stalled when reaching the wider road.

Abashai met the golden gaze of the unfamiliar female, acknowledging her smile and gratitude with a nod. He realized she was injured by the obvious wince as she rotated her shoulder. He stepped closer, seeing the torn fabric of her tunic. The exposed skin on her shoulder bore several abrasions, dark crimson beads of blood beginning to well up along its surface. "Are you alright? You are injured."

His eyes shifted from her wounds to the woman's face. She was curious indeed. The lass bore tattoos on her face, very much like his own. They were symbols he did not recognize, but surely they represented some deeper meaning, again, like his. She had much silver in her ears as well. But the most striking feature were her eyes. non-human irises of golden yellow peered out beneath delicate feminine brows. Abashai immediately began to mentally run through a list of races to identify one that possessed such unique eyes. Their intensity matched the mossy green of Nya's or the mulit-faceted hues of Avi. Yes, this brilliant gaze could very likely belong to a Kelvic.

"That wound should probably be cleaned, if you want to avoid infection. My mate and I live nearby, We could take a look at it and get it dressed for you, if you'd like." If the young woman was a Kelvic, he was sure Nya would want to meet her, if the forest cat wasn't already about her errands.

[Laeraix Cerys]

As she got closer to the human she had to look up to him. Most Syliran’s were taller than she was, but very few had such tan skin. Laeraix wondered where he hailed from but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t place his exotic features. He seemed well armed, and his muscles spoke volumes about the training he must have received to be able to use the weapons he carried. His eyes were a deep blue green, and they reminded her of the lakes in the wilds, deep and complicated. He studied her, as many had in this city, but unlike most, he didn’t seem to be sizing her up as a potential sale or enemy. Next, she noticed that decorated his upper arms in faint lines. Scars like those were gained from harsh battle, and the lessons learned were probably etched in his mind.
"Are you alright? You are injured."
She tightened up and then replied
“I’m fine… it’s just a minor cut.”
She wondered if she could move without wincing. Displaying signs of weakness in front of a foreigner. Avari would have her hide if he saw such an awful display of stupidity. He continued looking at her and spoke again, and his voice was kind.
"That wound should probably be cleaned, if you want to avoid infection. My mate and I live nearby, We could take a look at it and get it dressed for you, if you'd like."
Laeraix thought of what Avari would say to that. She was sure he would have quite a few choice words, none of them nice. She reminded herself that Avari was not here, and her life was her own. She had ventured into this great city in search of adventure, excitement and knowledge. Getting run over by a horse wasn’t on that list, but she didn’t see any issue going with the man. She could always fly away if need be, and the city was starting to overwhelm her. She truly hoped that wherever they lived was quiet and calm.
“Alright. I guess I should get this cleaned up, even if it is only a minor cut.”

[Abashai]

The young woman's wounds were not serious, that was true, but he knew they were painful. Her unique eyes betrayed her reluctance to acknowledge the pain she felt, and he suppressed a grin of admiration at her desire to avoid appearing weak.

"The room is just around the corner at Traveler's Row. This way." The benshiran gestured down the narrow street he had just traversed. Just a few chimes later, he paused at the last door of the squat building built into the city's outer wall. Abashai looked down again at Laeraix's injury, the skin turning purple under the thin rivulets of blood that tricked over it.

He gave her a reassuring smile and opened the door. They stepped into a small room, simply furnished with a bed and table. Next to a crackling fire in a small hearth sat a makeshift rack with a few bladed weapons resting upon it, as well as a bow and quiver. A bench and stand sat in the corner, holding a porcelain basin and pitcher. Sitting on the bench, legs tucked under her, was Nya. The pitcher was in her hands, raised to her mouth, a few drops of water escaping down her chin as she drank from the container.

Abashai gave his mate a feigned stern grimace, then burst into laughter. "Sorry, Ny, I should have announced that I had a visitor." He suddenly realized his rudeness and turned to the woman beside him. "Oh, I am Abashai and this is Nya." He said, gesturing towards his bondmate.

"Ny, she was almost trampled by a charging Zavian. She managed to dodge the horse," Abashai gestured towards Laeraix's shoulder, the torn tunic revealing the scrapes in her skin. "...but she hit the street pretty hard. Could you help us get her shoulder cleaned up?" He held out his hand towards the girl's staff. "I can set your stuff aside for you."

[Laeraix Cerys]

Once they stepped inside, Laeraix was pleasantly surprised. It was small, but it held all the necessities for living. A small bed took of a good amount of space in the room, but Laeraix’s eyes were drawn to the woman that was sitting on a small bench. Her hair was a mix of colors that Laeraix had never seen before. It seemed that her hair could not decide what color it truly wanted to be. It was a dark color, but infused with browns, greens and gold. The rest of the girl was just as interesting. Her eyes were a deep green and they seemed to pull Laeraix into their deep shadowed depths. She was drinking water out of an pitcher than was lined with a delicate filigree.

After the man apologized to his mate, he introduced her to Laeraix.
"Oh, I am Abashai and this is Nya."
Laeraix smiled politely, but tried not to look into Nya’s eyes any more than necessary. There was something about them, something dangerous and shadowed that was beautiful at the same time. It made Laeraix nervous and she wondered what she had gotten herself into. The small abode had only one visible door, and thus only one good escape, unless she planned to barrel down the wall with an already injured shoulder.

“I go by Laeraix, it is nice to meet you, Abashai and Nya”
After Abashai explained her predicament to Nya, he offered to take her staff, the only true weapon she had on her. She reluctantly let go of the staff and nervously twined her fingers together. It felt so odd not having the staff on her person, almost like she had lost a part of herself that she didn’t even know she had. Laeraix looked down at her shoulder and tried to judge how long it would take to heal. She knew nothing about medicine lore and had no interest in learning.
“How much will I owe you, Nya?”
She had no intention of not paying Nya and she hoped the healer would accept her coin.

[Nya Winters]

There were rules for civilization. Abashai was patent in explaining them. One was clearly - "If you are thirsty, pour yourself a cup of water and drink from the cup. Not the pitcher." But what Abashai didn't know didn't exactly hurt him right? Water was water, and the rim of the pitcher when full was perfect for lapping up a quick drink, especially when she was thirty. Nya had just got done brushing her hair, and that was thirsty work. Shai was always up with the sun but Nya was somewhat lazier when she'd been prowling most of the night. Sometimes she'd leave Shai something to eat that she'd retrieved on her journeys so he'd have breakfast, but unless prodded, she rarely got up until the sun was an hour or so in the sky.

And so while it was later in the morning, it was still that time when Nya was just waking up. Her hair was brushed but she hadn't bothered to braid it. Sometimes braids felt confining and she didn't enjoy that much. Instead, she'd dressed carefully in a pair of loose black trousers that had a military cut to them - probably because they were stolen from dead men - and a tunic that was cut to let the forest cat move a bit more in it and colored a ruby red. It was also a man's tunic, but Matilda had taken it in at the shoulders a bit so it fit Nya halfway decently. A black leather belt kept it from billowing out too much. And her feet, of course, were bare though her boots weren't very far away.

Nya glanced at Shai's hands hopefully when he walked through the doorway, wondering if he'd brought back any sweet bread swirled with cinnamon. Sometimes he did, as a breakfast treat, to supplement the fruit and cheese they kept on hand. There were four carcasses hanging by the far wall, rabbits cleaned but not skinned, so they would eat well for dinner.

She wasn't surprised to see Shai, but she was surprised that he wasn't alone. Normally Nya was the one that brought home strays, not Abashai. But regardless there was probably a good reason. Maybe it was even good enough to have been caught drinking from the pitcher rather than a cup. Nya rose, smiled, and caught Laeraix's scent. She paused a moment, green eyes moving towards the other woman's own gaze, and took all of her in. The woman didn't smell human, not in the least, but instead smelled of bird - some sort of raptor like Avi but not exactly like her. Kelvic then, obviously, and she could smell the woman's nervousness like a tangible reek.

"Leave the door open, Shai. She will feel better. And the window too." Nya said smiling at the woman but giving her a wide space (as wide as possible in the little room) and moved towards the window to throw it wide. Kelvics were odd creatures. Most didn't like to be confined. And injured, they could be dangerous. Nya glanced at her bondmate and wondered if he knew how easily they could panic. Nya was perhaps tamer than most having grown up in a household, but some were just flat out feral. He should take more care, she thought, as she moved to make the room open, giving the girl multiple pathways to escape. Nya hoped it would calm her nervousness and change the girls scent into something more friendly and less cautiously concerned.

"You have a beautiful name. Abahsai is a Cultural Councilor. They are greeters and am...ambassadors to the city, especially to new people. He is supposed to help Benshira, but he has the most experience with Kelvics too since I live with him. He gets a salary from the knights to make sure new people in the city get settled in and feel safe. You are welcome here and safe. I am sorry the horse tried to run you down. Abashai's horse has good manners, but not all of them do here." Nya said slowly, not crowding the woman and letting her settle before she did anything else.

"I would gladly see your shoulder and make sure it needs no care. And as for payment, Abashai and I would like a story, for we are woefully low on fresh tales having heard the best of what each of us knows. Would that be agreeable?" Nya said softly, glancing at her bondmate and offering him a hesitant smile. Strangely she wasn't jealous. She'd heard Kelvics who were well and truly bonded often got jealous around other kelvics especially if their bondmates were paying attention to them. But having had Avi lurking around probably never hurt things. The owl kelvic had never been anything but fun, especially since she knew a great deal of stories as well. Shai was always kind to her and attentive, but never seemed to feel the pull of a bond.

So Nya was willing to be friendly and genuinely interested.

"There's a table there.... have a seat and let me see?" Nya said, beckoning Lae to the little table in the corner, offering her the chair closest to the door so that Shai and the forest cat would have to sit (if they did) against the walls.

[Abashai]

Abashai set Laeraix's quarterstaff against the wall, catching Nya's gaze. He could see admonishment in his mate's stern green eyes. The reason became clear as Nya instructed him to open the door and window and gave their visitor a wide berth. Nya saw the new Kelvic as Abashai should have, as a wounded animal.

One of the most difficult lessons Abashai had to learn when he first met Nya was that, although she appeared human, and could act human, she was not a human. Nya had become acclimated to human society, as had their friend Avi for that matter, but the Kelvics were still driven by their animal instincts, which made them dangerous to those who did not understand. Nya had warned him that not all Kelvics were tame like she and Avi, some were wild, some made dangerous through abuse.

His bondmate did not speak her displeasure at his lack of caution, but Abashai chastised himself for his foolishness. Laeraix had seemed quite harmless and pleasant. That was because he failed to look past her human face. The girl was very likely as friendly as she appeared. But he could not afford to be lax in his diligence, not with the perils he and Nya were surely to face in their future.

The benshiran stepped back, allowing Laeraix to do as she pleased, whether she chose to sit, or just examine the room for a moment. He knew Nya always carefully examine a new place, assess possible exits, scan for interesting or dangerous items, inhale the scents to determine who and what was present. Abashai did not know what kind of Kelvic the woman was, but he was sure she would use her senses to examine the room and its occupants.

"Nya is right Laeraix, we are kind of an unofficial welcoming committee," he smiled disarmingly at her, removing his khopesh and setting it on the weapons rack. "...please make yourself at home." He was tempted to offer her a cup of water, but was unsure whether the Kelvic woman would mind drinking after seeing Nya chugging from the pitcher. Sometimes it was hard to determine where the line between human and animal lay in a Kelvic. He decided tea was a good compromise and set to putting some water on to heat.

"We would enjoy a story, I'm sure you have some interesting tales." Certainly there was a story behind the curious tattoos on her face, or the worn etched staff she carried. He looked over again at the woman, her dirty blonde hair still damp from the moist air in the street. Though her eyes did not possess the same captivating nature of the forest cat's moss green eyes, Laeraix's golden irises were equally bright and dominated her features, wrestling with the inked symbols on her cheeks and the line of silver rings adorning her ears for attention, and winning.

"Laeraix, would you care for a cup of hot tea?"