[Sun And Stars] We Sheeps Got To Stick Together (Laszlo)

[Arrow]

Fall 61, 511 A.V.

Trouble was singing to the goat, quite appropriately dubbed “Nan”, as Arrow walked slightly behind the small cart. Though often his thoughts were far away, at this moment he was very much preoccupied with the business at hand, or, the lack of business, to be more precise. A few of the homes that they had visited, after first traipsing about a bit looking for them, had been in need of a topping off, so to speak. Others had been cordial but dismissive, whatever supply they had from the day before still unexhausted. He had loaded two kegs onto the goat cart, and one was untouched, the other still half full. They had not passed the shop where Trouble had spied the ribbon she longed for. It had taken itself off to some other location apparently. But she had mentioned it, in passing, and Arrow had only answered her with some vague mumblings of “maybe looking for it later.” His coffers were getting dangerously bare. Even such a small luxury as a hair ribbon would have to wait.

Being the phlegmatic little thing that she was, Trouble was not overly fussed by his ambiguous half promise. Her tune was a merry one, the words in some odd language known only to herself. Arrow sometimes wondered if the kelvic sang in some language of the birds. With an effort to make a mental tabulation of what his current inventory might translate to in terms of cash, he almost walked right by the plain wooden door with the scrolling letters of silver flowing across its dark surface. It was only the girl that brought him up short, to stop and stare at the narrow façade and the begrimed window panes. Peering more closely at the door, he read the name thereon as Trouble asserted, “See? I told you. A new tavern.”

It was true. She had told him several days ago about having spotted a business she had never seen before. As curious as she was, she had of course slipped inside and ascertained that it was a pub that served liquid refreshments only – and it had a marvelous painted ceiling. However, whether the place was truly new, or simply had been hiding, was anyone’s guess. Arrow had lived in Alvadas for some years now, and it wasn’t beyond the scope of reason that the place had always been in the city as well, and that he had simply never been on whatever street it was currently occupying. Looking at it now, it certainly seemed non-descript and almost . . . coy, almost as if it was making an effort not to be noticed. Buildings in Alvadas seemed often enough to have some sort of inner life of their own. Since Trouble had spoken of the place, neither of them had encountered it, which isn’t to say Arrow did not believe her. Alvadas was a tricky place. Sooner or later, he assumed, they’d run into it.

He stood scrutinizing the exterior, as the window gave no hint of what lay beyond, and pondered the name. Sun and Stars – simple, whimsical, ethereal. The blonde head bobbed briefly in satisfaction, and hope. Being Ethaefal, he couldn’t help but take the name as a good sign. Perhaps he could persuade the proprietor to buy some of his beers. Trouble was looking at him expectantly, her hand resting on Nan’s silky head. “Well? Go on. They need our beer.” Her young voice was so confident. “Can I come in too?” She tacked on, looking hopeful.

Arrow smiled at her. When he was in his human form, as he was now and would be for the next half hour or so, the two seemed much like brother and sister, though their coloring was different. He nodded. “Sure. Come on. We have nothing to lose, right?”

Trouble grinned and patted the goat, giving it explicit instructions to stay put, to which the goat made no reply, other than to look bored. Arrow opened the plain door and followed the girl into the exceedingly dim interior. Just inside the entrance, they paused, Trouble’s chin tilting up to gaze at the wonderful ceiling. Arrow allowed himself a quick glance at the marvel, but then looked about for someone who might be in charge. Spotting no-one very near, he tugged on Trouble’s sleeve and began to walk down the long, narrow room, having spied what looked like the bar counter off to the left. The few patrons that were imbibing at this odd hour of the late afternoon looked up as they passed, but the place was very quiet. Reaching the bar, Trouble now tugged at Arrow’s elbow, nodding with her head at the individual who stood behind the counter, his back to them. Her eyes were wide and she mouthed Look!

But Arrow was already looking, and thinking that surely, this must be some sort of sign that he would have good luck. Clearing his throat, he addressed the young man with the colorful horns sprouting from his head, his voice low but friendly.

“Excuse me. Do you work here?”

His hand came to rest on the wooden counter top as he waited for the child of Syna to turn around.

[Laszlo]

Lately there had been a regular to the Sun and Stars. Beginning several days earlier, he had come almost every night, an altogether unimpressive man wearing a bedraggled gray coat that looked to be older than he was. In the short time that Laszlo was allowed a look at his face, he saw emptiness in his dark eyes, a sort of deep regret that only a short and wasted mortal life could know. His lopsided beard was laced in wiry currents of gray, caging in trace flecks of things which Laszlo didn't care to identify. He wasn't much of a conversationalist, and he had never given his name. Sometime in the early evening he'd stumble in, mumble a set of syllables containing the sound "beer", and retreat to the far corner nearest to the door. His personal opinion aside, not that he had much of one, he saw the man more as a paying customer than a walking tragedy. His gnarled, reluctant hands knew how to produce the coins Laszlo asked for, and that was really all the Sun and Stars needed to keep running. He didn't know where the man came from, but suspected that he only favored this tavern because other places had turned him away. With Victor Lark busy at Ionu's Wager, and Seven Xu occupied with his mapmaking, the Ethaefal was left alone to attend to their nascent business. It had been roughly a week since they had opened, and so far they had had roughly a dozen customers. Whether that was good or absolutely dismal was a mystery, as Laszlo had no frame of reference to measure the success of a new tavern. He was simply glad to have a place of his own at all, instead of sleeping out of inns and the generous accommodation of someone else's home as he had since he'd first felt the earth under his feet. The tavern gave him purpose, identity, some sense of prestige, he supposed. It gave him something. The door opened again soon after Laszlo had returned to the bar from giving the vagrant his second refill. The tavern was empty otherwise, so he felt a surge of excitement charge his nerves as he received his second guest of the evening. He did not immediately turn around, as he was preoccupied with a childish reluctance to show his eagerness. Laszlo took up a mug that had been hanging from a rack as he finally looked to see who'd addressed him. The Ethaefal passed up his glimpse of a young blond man as he noticed there was a second person. His lips parted as he tamely balked: there was a small girl with him. Courtney was his immediate though, and he involuntarily smiled. It wasn't Courtney, of course. This girl appeared a few years older, and her hair wasn't nearly as golden. Involuntarily he remembered his brief time in Syliras, and the smile he wore lost much of its spirit. "Yes. I own the place, in fact." Laszlo turned his liquid amber eyes back to the adult, a human looking to be roughly in his twenties. He had a kind face, but looked just a little too intelligent to be bringing a young girl into a pub. "Can I help you? Perhaps this isn't the sort of establishment you should be bringing your daughter into." The crimson curl of Laszlo's sleek horns glimmered in the failing sunlight as it began to recede from the room's only window. He rejuvenated his smile at the child, fearing inwardly that he'd scare the poor thing if she saw him after sunset. "No offense, sweetheart."

[Arrow]

“Wonderful.” Arrow replied quickly, showing perhaps more enthusiasm than the circumstance warranted, unless the publican had any inkling of how badly Arrow wanted to find another source of trade, and income. His eyes lingered on the son of Syna, now that the Ethaefal had turned about. Who could have resisted? Such beauty was rare, almost exclusively reserved to those like the two of them. And despite the fact that in but a half hour or so, Arrow too would once again take on a guise that mortals could not aspire to, still, he was compelled to stare openly, if only for a moment. This child of the sun sported the rustic shades of the fall, a season soon to change, as would both of their colorings, no doubt. Auburn hair, milky red horns and amber eyes – truly his softly glowing palette seemed to imbue a second layer of radiance to this dark corner of the tap room. But Arrow quickly refocused on the Ethaefal’s comment, and his gaze turned to Trouble, who had her hand over her mouth stifling a giggle.

“Oh, she’s fine. And she isn’t my daughter.” He reached to grip her thin shoulder in a loving way, smiling warmly. “Though if I had a child I couldn’t possibly ask for one better then Trouble.” He turned back to the owner of the establishment. “She only wanted to come in and have a peek at your marvelous ceiling.” Despite his firm intention to get right down to business, Arrow also realized making friendly small talk usually did not go amiss when you were going to ask for someone’s custom. He was also completely curious about this unlooked for brother, standing behind a bar counter. It was funny what courses the varying fallen had taken. In his wanderings he had seen any number of paths and occupations and lifestyles those that he had met had adopted. Some were unforgivingly bitter and angry over their perceived banishment, or abandonment. This fellow in front of him did not appear to be of that nature. But Arrow could not help but wonder what his story was.

Trouble gave the barkeep a firm look and chirped up, “I go into taverns all the time. It doesn’t bother me a bit.”

Arrow, whose own eyes had strayed once more to the shifting colors overhead, hastened to return his gaze to the Ethaefal. “In the course of business, I assure you. She doesn’t just wander in and out of bars.” His face tilted up, and, distracted by the artificial sky above him, he could not help but ask, “How does it do that?”

[Laszlo]

"My mistake." Laszlo tilted his head at the small girl, wondering fleetingly at her predicament before deciding that it wasn't any of his business. Turning the mug over in his hand, Laszlo followed Arrow's eyes up to the tiled ceiling, the easy smile across his face widening at the man's joke. The glassy fragments of the mosaic were quickly shifting their hues, deep blues and grays giving way to a fierce burnt orange as the light from the window grew ever dimmer. After giving a parting glance to the blazing red disk on the far side of the vibrant image, he stole his eyes back and leaned over to grope around under the bar top. "I don't know, honestly," Laszlo murmured lightly, deciding that he wouldn't press the issue about the young girl. He personally didn't mind her, and he doubted the sleeping vagrant was any more dangerous than he was sober. She was most likely fine. For now. "It was already here when I acquired the place. One of the larger reasons I bought it at all." The Ethaefal produced a browned rag at last, and with it began to idly scrub the interior of the wooden stein. "I like it. I don't get out as much as I used to, but at least I still have my own, personal sky." Laszlo began to notice the oddly long looks he was getting from the human. The Ethaefal was not unaccustomed to being stared at, but this was different. Syna's fallen was often a subject of curiosity or intrigue, earning gawking stares from the more impolite from time to time. This stranger's eyes were more eerily discerning: patient and perhaps even educated. He looked more as if he were admiring the color of a fine wine. Laszlo crooked an eyebrow as he focused hard on cleaning the already-clean mug, not wanting to ask after the human's thoughts. A flash of gold flickered up and then down again. "What business are you in, exactly?" Laszlo leaned his hip against the bar as he began to chip away at a mild patch of discoloration with the ridge of his thumbnail. He wasn't sure why the human unnerved him. It might have been the way he spoke. He seemed too articulate and too practiced to look as young as he did. Nothing like his two cohorts at all. Laszlo paused to aim a playful look at the girl. "Does that make you his assistant?"

[Arrow]

Arrow’s eyes lingered on the ceiling, widening as the colors of the tile shifted to a more burning radiance – the glow of the impending sunset. He could easily see why the Ethaefal would have been taken with it. It was simply and beautifully amazing. What child of the sun goddess would not wish to own a place where he could work under her rays and still be out of the weather? His own personal sky indeed.

Bringing his eyes back down to smile at the equally amazing looking creature now rubbing away at a common beer mug, Arrow turned his hand over where it lay on the bar, a placatory gesture. “No worries. It happens all the time. You know . . . “ He nodded upwards with his chin. “I think you’re wise to leave your ceiling a mystery. It’s much better being fantastical. Any explanation would somehow . . . lessen it. I can see why you like it.”

Arrow’s gaze went to the long, slender fingers that went on with cleaning what must have been a very filthy mug, from the way they kept at it. Either that, or this was one of the few taverns where Arrow had ever encountered someone who understood how important cleanliness was, when it came to serving beer. Perhaps here was a man who understood, and appreciated, quality. Arrow took this for yet another hopeful sign.

“I’m in the brewing business, in fact.” He said, in his frank manner. “In a small way.” Extending one hand across the counter, he added, “My name is Arrow. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and congratulations on your new business here.”

[Laszlo]

Arrow? Peculiar name. A moniker, Laszlo expected, but he didn't intend to inquire. It was a charming title, and seemed to fit the sharp, handsome features of the young blond. The bottom rim of the wooden mug slid softly against the bar as it was set down, soon joined by once-white towel laid beside it. Laszlo clasped his hand in the human's and gave it a firm, quick shake. "It's Laszlo, and the pleasure's mine, Arrow." He forgot to smile, and did so afterward as he retracted his hand, the thin line looking a little forced as a result. The stranger's flesh had been cold from the autumn air outside, not that Laszlo minded, but he could still feel the memory of someone else's touch on his skin. He slipped his hand into a pocket. "Thank you. It's… it's not remarkable, I know. But it's mine, and I'm proud of it." The Ethaefal propped his back against the wall, tilting his head upward to stare pensively at the darkening ceiling. "It's something," he added, suddenly a bit somber. Appearing to snap out of it, he returned his liquid amber eyes to Arrow's. "You're a bit philosophical for a brewer." Slowly, a mildly amused smile appeared on his grim, perfect face. "You make beer, I assume? Forgive me if I seem a little dense. I don't actually know that much about it. I just pour it." It was odd, still, that a manufacturer of bitter would keep a small child with him. No matter, it was hardly any of Laszlo's business. He just didn't see children often. The Ethaefal sent a glance to the window. "Feel free to have a seat. Are you here to sell your wares?"

[Arrow]

The timing between Lazslo’s words and his strained looking smile might have been a bit off. But Arrow was happy enough that the Ethaefal seemed friendly, which might make the discussion of his buying some of Arrow’s beer easier. Of course, Arrow understood that a barkeep, especially one who was also master of the house, had to maintain some patina of merry bonhomie. It was a skill like any other, one that could be cultivated even if the underlying persona wasn’t quite as affable as the one projected. Lazslo’s just needed a bit of a polish, Arrow thought to himself with a smile, as he sat on one of the bar stools. The pensive look that quickly washed over Lazslo’s face and the grave tone of his voice Arrow let slide without knowing what to make of them.

Another smile appeared on the Ethaefal’s near perfect features, this one more genuine seeming. Arrow nodded at his observation. “Brewing is something of sideline, at the moment. I also do a bit of trade in books . . . copying . . . teaching. I’m no philosopher, though that may not be such a bad thing – a problem for every solution, as some might say.” He laughed lightly. He smiled warmly at Lazslo. “And yes, I brew beer – ales, lagers, stouts.” Shrugging his shoulders deprecatingly, he added, “Being newly opened, I thought I’d pop in and see if you’d have any interest or need for anything I could offer you.” His gaze went in the general direction of the front door. “I have a keg outside. I’d be happy to bring it in and tap it and let you sample it – it’s a light ale.”

With his glance, Arrow had noted that the dim light, struggling to find its way inside through the ancient window, had grown dimmer yet, a shadow of the more glorious sunset going on above them. If Laszlo took him up on his offer, enough time would pass for the sun to truly set and he would then be decked out in his nighttime guise. For the other Ethaefal, such a transformation should come as no great shock, so Arrow didn’t feel the need to “prepare” Laszlo in any way for the coming change, other than to say, “The sun will set soon. I’ll be changing . . . as will you. If you’ve no desire to haggle over a purchase, perhaps we can swap stories about horns instead.”

He smiled easily, looking at Laszlo, musing about in what earthly form Syna had seen fit to draw him upwards to her glorious realm. He wondered as well whether, through their common bond with the heavens, they might become friends, regardless of the beer and tavern trade. Their numbers were small, and Arrow would never wish it to be otherwise. No being should have to go through such a heart rendering sorrow as to fall from their god's heaven. But for those few Ethaefal there were, he felt they should draw what comfort they could find in each other's company, when they were fortunate enough to stumble upon each other.

[Laszlo]

An eyebrow lifted. The light in Laszlo's soft golden eyes seemed to shift as he newly regarded the human, his vision sweeping over Arrow's healthy build one more time. It was obvious what the man was alluding to, but Laszlo was having some trouble processing it. Until some days ago, he had never met another Ethaefal in his young life—given, Kalinor was where most of that time was spent and the Floating City only really offered up Symenestra and their unfortunate "guests". Now within mere a mere tenday, he'd met two. On that thought, Laszlo briefly wondered if the spidery race would ever use an Ethaefal as a surrogate. The misplaced consideration dismissed, he pulled his eyes away as his smile faded, drawing them across the bartop. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Leth's daughter. It hadn't been a heartening one. "Child of Leth," Laszlo speculated with a note of surprise. Though it was difficult to believe that he'd already met another of what could be called his kin, he had no reason to think anyone would lie about it. Where had this one come from, then? How long had he lived? What had he seen? How did he reconcile? Siofra seemed to barely manage. Laszlo buried his own struggle under hypnotic mantras and a busy waking life. "There are a number of you in Alvadas, it seems. I met one of your sisters just days ago. I believe she's staying at the Inn. I suppose I shouldn't find that so remarkable. This is the City of Illusions." What were the Ethaefal but divine illusions? What was the world? He cleared his throat, his features softening as his lips curled into something calm and polite. "I'm not much of a haggler, I'm afraid. I do like beer, however, and our selection here is limited. Bring in your sample and we can talk, about horns or ale or what have you." Pushing himself from the wall, Laszlo gathered up the cleaned mug from the bar top, then pivoted around to hang it on the rack behind the bar to join its twins. Even if Siofra had left him discouraged toward seeking out other Ethaefal, he would give this one a chance. "You're the second I've met," Laszlo said without turning around, his voice a little lower. Two Ethaefal working out a trade deal sounded much like two swans swimming in a pond of mud. "How fortunate that your earthbound form is human."

[Arrow]

Arrow regarded Lazslo as he turned about, hanging up the well polished mug. He sensed the sadness rippling off the other, this brother of his, in a miasma that he could readily recognize. He had yet to meet an Ethaefal that didn’t struggle with their fallen state, at one level or another, even Aurelia. Some fared better with their plight than others, though. Perhaps the one before him now wasn’t doing so well, though outwardly he appeared and spoke as if things were fine. What had he said about his new tavern? It’s something – something being better than nothing? In the end, it would seem they all suffered from terminal loneliness. Arrow had lived so long, without his god, outliving the ones he befriended, or loved. To dwell too much upon such things was the path to madness. A silent sigh escaped him.

And then the last remark - Lazslo’s last comment, spoken so low, made Arrow wonder if he didn’t suffer on top of the obvious. If Arrow was ‘fortunate’ to be human, than what nightime form was this son of Syna forced to endure? Arrow could think of a few that would be less than pleasant. But he didn’t ask of course. It would have been rude and unnecessary. If he stuck around a few minutes more, Arrow knew he’d find out for himself.

“Really?” he replied easily, rising from the stool. “We are here and there, I guess. But two in ten days – that does sound unusual. Sometimes I’ve gone years – decades even, without encountering one of our kind. I haven’t had the pleasure to run into her yet. I should look her up.” He began moving towards the door, tacking on over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

It took little enough time to fetch the keg. It took a bit more strength than time to heft it up and carry it inside, trying not to turn it all topsy turvy as he did so. In short order, though, he had the keg snugly ensconced in a rack behind the counter, with Laszlo’s permission.

“There. I’ll just leave it with you. Feel free to sample it as much as you like, your co-owners as well. And your customers, if you’re feeling generous. If you reach a general consensus that it’s not completely vile, then maybe we can discuss some terms?” He patted the top of the keg rather fondly. “Usually for a tavern I’ll rack it and add the finings when I deliver the kegs. You let them sit a day or two and then tap them. The beer is clearer that way.” He smiled ruefully. “It’s a small operation though. I lack the space to do more. So if you are interested, I’m afraid I can only supply a keg, oh . . . every other day.” That was being optimistic. But if Arrow could feel sure of the market, he could venture to buy more kegs and perhaps brew twice a day.

Hold on, he told himself. Don’t put the cart before the horse, or the goat.

“Well, if you’re thirsty, have a taste.” He said, grinning. “You’ve spent all that time cleaning your mug. Might as well get some good use of it yourself.”

[Laszlo]

The disguised Ethaefal left the bar for a moment to fetch his wares, leaving Laszlo momentarily alone with the vagrant. His amiable façade fell gradually from his face as his thoughts filled the silence, all vaguely wondering at what the Ethaefal had said and inwardly, vainly asking the Givetaker how it had happened that Laszlo had already met another of his kind. This one was immediately different from Siofra, and himself too. He seemed practiced, but otherwise merry, as much as any other man making it from day to day. Arrow didn't seem nearly so defeated, or if he was, he concealed it well. What had he said? Decades? This one was older. Siofra had been even younger than Laszlo. It might be educational to learn about Leth's fallen son. When Laszlo realized that Arrow was bringing in an actual keg, the Ethaefal went about clearing off the back shelves in a hurried manner, taking an armful of mugs, part of Seven's tavern ledger, and a few stray odds and ends, and depositing them on the smooth counter nearby. Consciously reminding himself that his daytime phase was not so fragile as his Symenestra body would be, he then quickly hurried to help Arrow move and hoist the keg up onto the shelf, the weight inside shifting to and fro but not in a very dramatic way. Answering with a coy smile, Laszlo had his fingers ensnared in the mug's handle before Arrow finished his suggestion. He hooked a second, as well, and slid it across the bar toward the blond. "These are all just as clean, as you like. We've only had the one customer so far, this evening." Laszlo nodded toward the sleeping vagrant. "Comes here most nights. We call him Ned." Bringing his own mug to the keg, Laszlo fiddled with the tap and quickly filled the wooden cup. A healthy ring of froth clung to the inside walls of it, creating a perfect portrait of shimmering amber. Batting away an auburn lock from his vision, he took a moment to consider the color, before lifting the mug to his lips and washing a sample past his lips. It was refreshingly cool from sitting in the outdoors, held fondly in the autumn chill as the year drew late. "Oh," Laszlo purred, setting the mug on the bar as he quirked his eyebrows. Using the pad of his thumb, he wiped excess moisture from his upper lip. "That's good. I'm so used to what we serve, but this is much smoother. Almost chocolaty. I'll have to get the others to sample it." The colors of the mosaic shifted suddenly, the last of the burning orange tiles overwhelmed by bleeding indigo. A pair of bright lights filled the room then, conspicuously illuminating the window at the front of the building. Like a flicker of light glinting off a shard of glass, a blinding, golden shimmer traveled rapidly up Laszlo's tall form, from his feet to the top of his head, obscuring his features for several seconds. When the lighted just as quickly glinted away, a pale, willowy Symenestra stood in its place. Laszlo didn't seem to notice, though he privately wondered at Arrow's thoughts on his nighttime phase. The healthy glow of his skin had been lost, giving way to a grayish pallor. All of his clothing seemed to hang a little more loosely as his entire build had changed, become long and lissome without altering his actual height. Slender fingers tipped with elongated, sharpened black nails reached up into his hair, pulling at his tie. Releasing his ponytail, dark silver hair spilled over his slim shoulders, but was quickly adjusted behind his ears. "I don't handle our stock purchases," Laszlo continued. Even his voice was different, changing from a baritone into a smooth, silken tenor. Each syllable became articulated with more care, as if every word were precious. Laszlo kept his eyes downturned, for the moment, hesitant to behold the more perfect form of Leth's follower. He gathered up his mug again in his white, bony hands. "Victor Lark, my associate, takes care of those negotiations. He's busy with another engagement tonight, but you can meet him tomorrow, if you're lucky. He likes ale as well, and anything with alcohol in it. I'll mention you to him when I see him again." Laszlo's eyes shifted under their lids, and then he finally brought his deep, sparkling amethysts up to meet the Ethaefal's new visage. "You said… decades, right? Pardon me, but how old are you, Arrow?"