Eye of the Beholder [Sighard]

[Tara]

Tara’s features relaxed and her muscles loosened up. Tara had heard many things before she returned to Syliras. One of those things was that the guards would kill you if you so much as looked at them funny. She was immensely relieved that it was not the case. She had also heard that reimancy was discouraged and distrusted, so Tara had tried to keep that on the down-low.

She nodded her head in understanding as Sighard explained to her. She smiled slightly as he finished. ”You could say that” she said. She was glad that he hadn’t shown any signs of knowing she was a kelvics which was good. She tended to use it as an escape mechanism to confuse someone if she were being chased. Also everyone had a different view of kelvics. Some saw them as nothing but animalistic instinct and did not trust them, which was only partly true. Tara was very cat-like in nature and if you knew to look out for it, it’d stick out like a sore thumb. Even her slightly unsocial tendencies were due to being feline. Other people saw them as nothing but slaves for the wealthy and treated them as such. Tara didn’t like either group of people.

Then there were the ones who saw them as humans with the ability to shape shift rather than a mix of both. They were kinder but had their drawbacks. It meant that they would judge every move you made and question it. They would see normal animal behaviours as strange human ones. Tara vaguely noticed that Sighard was doing most of the talking in the conversation. Tara didn’t really talk much so having exceedingly chatty conversations with her were far and few between.

[Sighard]

“I have said it, and I maintain. . .” His note held an undulating quality that purposed his sly grin, a sharp inwards cut of his lips that emboldened the flavor of his words, crafted gingerly to accommodate the wealth of beauty that lavishly sat across from him. His words were mysterious, elusive, and intended to draw the female into his roguish allure. Hesitantly he peeled away his gloves to purport monotony, subtle motions which revealed cream colored hands that wrapped about the base of his mug and threw it against his lips to sip . . . elegantly and without pause in action. The note faded into oblivion for seconds before returning, his gaze a curious concoction of several emotions.

“I maintain that many are not so beautiful and enigmatic.” He cut the tension with words that hoisted the conversation on its back and mechanically drove it forward. Gesture, non-verbal and fashioned, organized the symphony of his cause and asserted intention. Sighard knew too many vibrant females whose beauty dripped so excessively that it spilled too richly into their mannerisms. The notion stirred to mind scantily clad harlots incensed heavily in lavender and colored brightly in jewels and such. The gaudy display was too exotic, and did not sit well with his stomach. The dogma of Syliran culture demanded tamed beauty as presented by the woman who tamely held her own.

He chewed what was left of his breakfast, grinding the gristle-fed sausage with powerful molars and absorbing the flavor of spice and meat to accentuate the situation and feed into his energy. Delicately he wiped the grease from his features with a nearby cloth dabbed in his mug of water and waited patiently, an expectant gaze shot towards Tara.

[Tara]

Tara’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she looked down at her food before returning her gaze to the knight. She had never been in this kind of a situation before and wasn’t sure how to react. If it had been a situation in which he was threatening her, Tara would have been able to get through it no problem. But Tara had no such experience of this and it made her nervous. She tilted her head, unable to decipher a single emotion. Tara had spent years using her knowledge of what to do and say in order to get by and earn money.

She had thought she had that skill perfected as well as it could be but obviously she had been sorely mistaken. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, trying to reorganize her thoughts back to the present. No matter what she thought she knew, she still had to reply to the man across from her. ”Umm, thanks” she replied, flustered to the point where she was unable to think of an intelligent answer. Her gaze didn’t leave him, but she was mentally frantic.

[Sighard]

Sighard’s words did not dissimulate his true emotions, for darker intent seemed a myth that could have been conjured by the malevolent shadows which danced gracefully about his stoic features in the castigating firelight. His motives were perpetual, harmonious to a higher selfless cause whose very essence expanded the pride of the young man and gave way to more brazen actions. The squire’s gaze pressed, lolling purposefully about his new friend to decipher her reaction. He was formulaic in his work, and the practiced eye combined with socially-apt thoughts complemented to enlighten him on Tara’s true nature. Shy, but there is a toughness that lies beneath the shallow-most layer. . .

“You must receive the compliment a lot, I’ve--. . .” His voice was drowned by the sudden rising crescendo of boisterous laughter that had elevated from where two merry drunks had sat themselves. He accorded himself a view via a slight turn of neck and quirk of brow, but a quick shake of his head suffused the importance of the noise into a mundane happening. “I’ve a mind to get to know you more if you allow. You are intriguing. . . enigmatic.” His words dripped subtle temptation, a poisonous honey that he cared to use in moderation when pressing forth.

His frame shifted, an ephemeral transition of limbs that poised him more comfortably against the table and nearer Tara. His eyes cast purposefully against the other’s own and his smirk had dulled to a less aggressive, soft smile. Although the room about him had a number of things to keep his attention occupied, it seemed for the moment that the female drew most of it.

[Tara]

Tara smiled and shook her head as he commented that she must hear the compliment a lot. The truth was that most people who came across her either saw her as a cat or as an enemy. That was mainly the reason why she was surprised by his words. Tara jumped a little when a couple humans started to laugh but soon regained her composure. She tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. She had considerably calmed herself down seeing how it was irrational to get worked up by this. ”Well, that depends on what you want to know” she said with a smile.

She tried to work out what she would tell him. She decided telling him that she was two years old and was travelling around Syliras trying to get back memories from when she was young and her master died of mysterious causes that were most likely an illness did not seem a wise choice. Even telling him she was kelvic would not be a wise choice. In fact, there was not much about herself that she was willing to tell a stranger. But she would be as truthful as she could be in the situation. It was not normal for her to trust people she had just recently met but he had shown her no sign of ill intentions so there was no need to tiptoe around him.

[Sighard]

“Of things you are willing to tell!” He retorted, the thin lines of his lips protruding out to expound his enunciation. The throaty crack of his vibrated tones insisted his youth but the limits of physicality were shallow to the entire presentation. His charming manifesto, an ingrained set of chivalrous ideals instilled since childbirth perpetuated the maturity which exuded from his very being and collaborated to enhance his words. Their content was simple, but such presentation allowed deeper insight into his character if one chose to read it. “But let’s start simple . . . what is your occupation?” He mused with the flourish of a palm that elaborated the question. A warm smile situated nicely against his features.

Nearby the subtle rhythm of footsteps lauded the coming waiter, whose purposeful eye caught Sighard’s empty mug and plate. With remarkable efficiency he thrust himself into their conversation and existed as an ephemeral obtrusion, a blinding flash of uniformed muscle that collected the dishes and parted a clearer area between the two. The squire offered an appropriate dip of the head in the man’s direction before jerking attention back towards Tara. He marveled at her eloquence, her natural beauty that remained thinly veiled by her introverted nature. I’ve dealt with shyer ones. . . She is no puzzle. . .

To the squire it was a crafted chase, a chess game played by the attractive youths that played upon their innate impulses and animalistic desires and fought the cordialities of adulthood. Indeed, his presentation alluded to a higher sense of being, but in reality he knew it was all to serve one purpose. A man was only as noble as the parts between his legs.

[Tara]

Tara flicked her eyes to the waiter, acknowledging his appearance but not giving him much attention. ”I’m pretty much self-sufficient, so I never saw the need in working” she stated plainly after the waiter had picked up the plates and mugs and brought them back to the kitchen to be washed. Tara jumped slightly as a cool breeze swept through the tavern as a man entered the tavern. Tara took this opportunity to assess what was going on outside of her table. She had not been as vigilant as she usually would have been. Normally she would have heard the man’s footsteps before he even touched the tavern door. It bothered her a little that being around this man had such an effect on her vigilance but she let it go. There was no use in blaming someone else because she didn’t hear a man approaching the tavern door.

Tara leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on her hands. She noticed a slight shift in the mood of the conversation. It was only small but Tara got the feeling that Sighard was reading into Tara’s responses more than she was to him. Unused to not knowing much about another person, Tara shifted in her chair slightly. She wondered vaguely why he approached her when there were other, more beautiful girls out there. She returned her eyes to him, trying to decipher as much as she could about him. Her eyes searched him but were unable to find anything. Her skills seemed to be deserting her. Abandoning that notion she decided to elaborate on her earlier statement. ”If I did end up working I think I’d probably take up something to do with hunting…” she mused, more to herself than anything.

Her reflexes made it so that job would most likely suit her best. She didn’t quite know how it could be used as a occupation though. She also didn’t know if she’d be able to stand any sort of involuntary flow of people coming her way. Perhaps she’d go with something which had a little less human contact required. She blinked her amber eyes and brought herself out of her thoughts. This conversation had sent her into long trains of thought which she did not appreciate while she was trying to concentrate.

[Sighard]

Elusive still . . . there is content to her words but they are empty in a way, lacking the cohesion of certainty or I am otherwise missing something. Sighard’s wordless gaze was transcendent, and perpetuated the mysteries of his inner mechanisms via the simple pressing of his eyes more tightly, the words of Tara channeling and trickling into his ears and rushing urgently to mind, where he processed them momentarily. To him, it was more what she did not say than what she had said. The most valuable information, such to be drawn from the denizens of Syliras was the information that was unaware of giving at all. He flashed a momentary smile, “A braver soul than I. You know the woods, then?”

Perhaps beauty was not all that accorded to the flirtation of Sighard and the subtle intimacy which had transpired between them. Guilty glances and nervous laughs did mar the surface of their conversation, sure, but it was the overarching mystery, an escape from the normal that drew the male to the female. His fingers laced against each other and supplanted themselves upon his chin as he contemplated her, and although the smile faded there was a charming innocence in his eyes that offered his vulnerability. His expression conveyed what his words could not, and his words were but a medium to press the right buttons. “Knights rarely travel outside these gates alone, so in many ways you could call them craven. Sure, it lessens unnecessary risk but we could never understand the exhilaration a hunter feels as they tread through the unknown, robbed of their comfort and armed only with their ability. You are all the more admirable because of it.”

To an extent the knight knew many things already, secrets hidden beneath the words and the half-truths of Syliras that kept it whole. In other ways he was mystified, an ignorant young boy armed only with the knowledge of his predecessors. If there was anything his long since passed patron had taught him, though, was that words were as strong a weapon as any blade. Information won wars more often than the skill of an arm. He had since practiced the art of drawing others to his cause, crafting his words so as not to appear obligated to any certain cause. In a way this conversation could have been him perfecting his craft. It could have easily have been him flirting with another pretty face. Whatever the case, his current disposition made him appear awed by the beauty in front of him.

[Tara]

Tara gave a small nod. ”Yeah, sometimes I prefer it there than in the city” she said, not realizing that she was opening up more than before. Usually it took a while before one earned the kelvic’s trust, but something about the squire across from her was calming. She trusted him even though she had only known him a short while. She did spend a lot more time in the forest than she did in the crowds of Syliras. She would try to come to the city when it was at less crowded times, rather than when the bustle of busy people came pouring down the street.

She tilted her head a little as he began talking about the Syliran Knights. Him calling them craven came as a surprise to Tara. She had always looked upon them with quiet respect, but mainly just steering clear of them in general. ”I wouldn’t say that” she contradicted him. ”It’s nice that you have people you can rely on to have your back”. She had always seen the Knights a little like a family. While they are completely different in some ways they are all loyal to each other. Tara had never really experienced that kind of relationship with anyone. She had always been too distrustful to let anyone see her weaknesses which were key to operating as a whole. Though Tara was interested in the way the knights operated. Being the way she was Tara could not understand the trust between them. She wondered whether she wanted to be more like them, or would it just lead to being easily duped?

Tara looked at Sighard thoughtfully. She wondered what he was thinking. People who despised her were much easier to read, Tara noted. Her amber eyes studied his features. She moved her left hand down and rested it on the table, leaning on her right one. Her black hair fell down around her face, framing her pale features. She was not sure what to make of this man. He had come over to her and within a short conversation had gained her trust. There was something about him that seemed refreshing. Maybe it was because it had been the first time in a good while that she had been looked upon kindly.

[Sighard]

“I may just be superimposing my own faults on the knights, then. We are something indeed, I have no doubt, and you are a kinder person for recognizing the good. . . It’s just that you learn a lot from stories and that the more you know the wish you less you knew. Once you see the world for what it is beyond colorful maps and painted songs, it seems a troublesome thing to step outside these walls.” Sighard rambled, his gaze lingering, and though cast at Tara, seemed to pass through her as he spoke, as if he were looking at something that was not there, an apparition that had appeared him and caused him to shift uncomfortably and become more vulnerable. He’d exposed himself, as he was akin to do in the presence of beauty, and he’d felt the position compromising. Focus.

“You’ve an interesting mind for things, Tara. Most women here enjoy the company of a handsome man and sweet smelling things. They turn their noses at the thought of dirt and sticks. ‘Of things left to filthy boys and beasts’ they would say. I knew you were different.” The squire concluded with an amiable chuckle that resonated well with his light features. He’d erred on the side of caution when offering statements, careful to push only when the situation called for it and to not offend otherwise. Women, he knew, were fragile things that required a delicate handling in most situations.

The ritual was a commonplace one, though, for his interaction with strangers was about as natural as breathing and he saw no wrong in that, in making conversation over greasy food and hearty drink. It was only the female across from him that mystified and pervaded his every sense, forcing all his efforts in knowing more whilst simultaneously charming. It was an elegant dance in which the only thing the boy had to fear was tripping over his own feet.