When Giants Collide (Ambrose and Ifran)

[Ambrose Kain]

He wasn't certain why, but suddenly Ambrose felt a lot more secure in the feeling that the Eypharian was genuinely enjoying his company. Smiling widely, he dipped his head in an acknowledging nod, then turned heel and began to stride out of the oddly-constructed theatre. He positioned himself in such a way that he could guide them both, but didn't have to twist his neck to address Ifran with his words. "I'm afraid I don't play as often as I used to. When I was a lad, I was very into all sorts of amateur crafts, but I've fallen out of practice...ah, but I still like listening to it. If you ever hold an opera here in Alvadas, I do hope you'll tell me so I can attend and enjoy your voice in earnest." He went on talking of other trivialities as they walked, happy to fill any awkward pauses, though the Eypharian proved to be a more than competent conversational partner. Almost as soon as they stepped away from the Crook, Alvadas' unpredictable roads slipped into a sharp decline, and Ambrose had to pause and grit his teeth as he made his way carefully down. At the bottom, the road shifted again, becoming an irritating but more easily traversable combination of wet grass and charcoal. Ambrose turned to face Ifran again, raising his voice to combat the noisy crunching beneath their feet, and tried to recapture the train of conversation from earlier. After some interminable amount of time, they arrived outside a restaurant made evident by the sweet and spicy sounds floating out from its warm interior. Ambrose was quite famished by then, and he didn't pause to ask Ifran if the place would be suitable before stepping inside the establishment, though he did pause long enough to hold the door open for him. "Oh," Ambrose breathed in astonishment, as soon as his eyes passed over the sorts of dishes being handed out. "Zeltivan food!" With newfound eagerness, he rushed over to an empty table and seated himself, flagging down a passing waiter with no more than a charming smile. "Pardon me, do you serve any kind of krikol dishes here?" he asked, naming the small fish native to Zeltivan waters and frequently exported out to lands further inland who could afford it. Though they were too small to have much meat on them, their peculiar tang was a taste Ambrose found himself terribly nostalgic for. Even if all they had was a poor imitation, he was eager to try it. The waiter said nothing at first, but glanced between Ambrose and his unusual guest. There were no other Eypharians in the establishment--Ifran stuck out. "There is the 'ocean plateau' dish," he answered at length, slowly turning his gaze back towards Ambrose. "It has ilsid in it, which has been said to taste like krikol." "I'll have that, then," Ambrose answered without a pause, then turned to engage Ifran. "Zeltivan food can be a little spicy, but it's worth it, I assure you. Though, if you have a delicate constitution, try the oslo custard, if they have any. It's very mild and sweet...my mother would give me a bowl whenever I was ill." His expression crinkled into a smile at the fond memory.*

[Ifran]

"I will tell you what I tell everyone who expresses an interest in the Eypharian opera: let your wishes be known to Master Fabel, for he decides the repertory of the Playhouse." That said, he followed Ambrose into the night, keeping abreast with him as soon as it was possible; one did not want to get separated from a walking companion in Alvadas. When the city realized one was discomfited, it would often prevent a reunion until it grew tired of that game. Ifran was about to reach out and take Ambrose's hand when it seemed the young man was getting frustrated, the better not to lose him, but it ended up being unnecessary, and he smiled and walked into the establishment with Ambrose hot on his heels. He sat as elegantly as he did everything else, observing his companion's enthusiasm with thinly veiled amusement. It was a pleasing thing to watch. He dipped his head in acceptance at the order. "I will have what he is having, and perhaps the oslo custard. Just to be safe." When the waiter left them, Ifran turned the weight of his smiling regard upon the Zeltivan. He would have been as pleased to find a proper venue for Eypharian delicacies, or even to import one of the cooks from the Palace of the House of the North Winds, but while his Esteemed Grandfather had granted him permission to travel here, he was certainly not going to send any staff along with him. "I need to hire a cook," he said thoughtfully. "The commissary at the Playhouse is bland and repetitive, and I do not like being at the mercy of the streets of Alvadas when I want to eat."

[Ambrose Kain]

"Ah..." Ambrose trailed off, realizing Ifran must be fairly wealthy if he could afford to hire a cook. Ambrose had no servants of course--raised a shipwright's son, he'd always been well fed but that was about it. Besides, his mother, for the years she'd been alive at least, had always looked upon providing for her family with pleasure. "I'd offer to cook, but I'm not that good at it either," he said with a laugh, lifting his mug of ale once it arrived and swishing it around thoughtfully. It was a sight better than the swill he'd imbibed in that awful gambling den, but still he paced himself--no sense getting drunk in front of the elegant foreigner and embarrassing himself. "Yes...the streets can be quite a bother, can't they?" Ambrose's smile shifted into a grimace as he thought of the injustices he'd already had to suffer at the cobblestones of Alvadas' unruly pathing. After getting so hopelessly lost and delayed the first time, he'd learned to wear shoes for comfort rather than fashion, as there was no telling when a simple stroll could turn into an unwitting marathon. "Still...there's something very interesting about a city with such, ah...self-awareness, wouldn't you say? There are so many odd places here...and many that I never would have found without the roads' 'assistance.'" He took a long drink, wetting his parched throat. "All the same, I agree with you. It seems the more of a hurry I'm in, the more determined Alvadas becomes in preventing me from reaching my destination. I've since learned it's best not to get too attached to concepts like punctuality, and to just hope I can get to where I'm going on time."*

[Ifran]

He was not sure he could afford to keep servants here. There was his income from the theater, but he was used to surviving upon the wealth of his family, his own funds conflating. Still, he was growing weary of the communal life of the Playhouse. Perhaps it was time to get a place of his own, then Ambrose could come over and cook for him. "The streets, the statuary... Have you met the Idol Slanderer or whatever they call it? Shouts insults at passers-by." He chuckled, that silk and sand noise that was so intriguing (at least, when the audience was drunk). "Alvadas has been an education. I do wonder if the city is not an extension of Ionu Itself. I would like to meet Ionu, in which case I could ask. It certainly seems to have a sense of humor, though I do not know that I would laugh at many of its jokes. "Perhaps there is a lesson in its jokes, however, especially if they come directly or indirectly from Ionu. One must learn that the best laid plans go awry, and that one must learn what is important and what is only fleetingly so. Certainly, one is encouraged to smell the flowers on one's path, to take one's time, to explore the possibilities... This restaurant, in fact. You finding the Playhouse. And me."

[Ambrose Kain]

"Truer words were never spoken," Ambrose said with a beaming smile and a raise of his mug, half in flattery and half genuine. He drank from it afterward, then sat it down somewhat harder than he'd intended, dismayed to see it was already empty. "Thirstier than I thought," he remarked, then shrugged it off. "Anywho. You're right. Perhaps I should have saved a little, and we could have toasted Alvadas for letting us meet!" In lieu of a toast, he lifted one of his unused eating utensils and held it aloft dramatically. "To new friends!" Afterward, he came back to himself a little bit, and realized how cavalier he'd been behaving. "That is...to the possibility of new friends," he amended, giving Ifran a smile that was a little shy. "Do you...have a lot of friends in your troupe?"*

[Ifran]

Ifran smiled as if he knew that part of Ambrose was not entirely in earnest, but it was a shared joke between them and no hard feelings. Laughing again, that mellifluous thing, he raised his mug at his table companion's request, taking a sip of the brew before holding out his cup for Ambrose to drink from it too. "Please, have some of mine. It is a friendly gesture," he said with that same almost conspiratorial smile. Tell me your secrets, it might seem to say, and we shall have secrets to share. "I will take the possibility," he averred. "And no, I do not have any close friends among the troupe. We have learned to work together, and I respect many of them as artists, but our personalities have not... meshed, I suppose is the word. Do you have many friends here in Alvadas, Ambrose Kain, my possible new friend?"

[Bedlam]

Thread Completed!

Ambrose

Experience:
2 Observation
3 Socialization

Lores:
Six Hands on One Man

Ifran

Experience:
3 Seduction
2 Socialization

Lores:
Furtive Flutist
Zeltivan Cuisine

Notes:

This took me way too long to grade. Distracting internet is distracting, sometimes! Spring break does wonders with productivity—not!

It seems that Ifran used his gifts in Arumenic entirely to get other people in bed with him. He is already SO GOOD at it, dammit all. Sheesh. It kind of felt like this thread ended pre-emptively, and I’m not just saying that because the last post was two months ago—though, looking back, that would have been a good clue.

I feel bad grading these threads sometimes because I don’t like giving away socialization points because I don’t understand it. At the same time, I don’t think anyone was really persuading anyone to do anything, or convincing them to ‘take’ something, so negotiation and Persuasion didn’t feel right, but those exchanges of dialogue . . . deserved something, I think. I’m very conflicted on this, so if you think otherwise send a tell my way.