Mule's in the Stable [Closed]

[Perrin]

14th of Spring, 512AV Perrin approached the settlement ahead of him slowly, still bleary eyed from sleep. A grey mule, Civil, followed close behind. It’s saddlebags were laden with various supplies - armor, food, bedding. Despite the obvious burden, the animal showed no signs of stress. The man stopped for a second, blinking his eyes once more. The city of Avanthal lay before him, not crowned in Icestone walls and structures, but swamped with the floods created by their melting. It was the day before spring. Perrin had taken shelter in a cave for the night, making his camp deep enough inside that a fire was necessary to see. He had been exhausted, depraved, when he reached the shelter that afternoon. He quickly made camp, led Civil inside, and went to sleep. He was wrapped in a winter blanket, the other draped over Civil, in order to fight off the fierce cold of the Taldera region. Conciousness quickly fled him as he gave in to his exhaustion. He woke in a sweat. He was burning up in his bankets. He threw them off, just as a mighty crack of thunder sounded outside. The sound of rain pounding heavily against the ground reached his ears. His first thought was that he and Civil would have to wait out the storm in their cave. His second was that there should never be rain in Taldera. Perrin shot straight up, his eyes suddenly wide. He stared towards the cave opening, sweat dripping down his brow. The thin man and his mule made their way towards the city once more. A quick survey of the flooded settlement from afar yielded a destination. A wooden structure, large enough to house a city’s worth of animals, seemed a likely place to find stabling for the mule. Perrin nodded to himself, feeling the moist ground beneath his feet squish. It was still drenched from the melted snowfall - if the typical weather continued, Perrin thought that Avanthal would be getting a lot of rainfall, rather than snowfall. A lot of it, and very soon, he thought. It was still mid-morning when he reached the stables. He had only asked for directions to the stables once. The man was obviously a Vantha, with his startlingly bright, sapphire eyes. He had seemed quite ecstatic, responding vigorously... his voice shaking with emotion. It had seemed odd to Perrin. He shook his head - perhaps there was somewhere to learn hypnotism around here, and he had stumbled upon a practitioner’s unfortunate victim. Perrin wasn’t sure if one could lock someone into an emotional state like that, but what he did know was this: he was far from knowing the full breadth and depth of that particular art. The directions proved true, however. Perrin found himself at the same wooden building he had spotted from outside the city. The ground here was as drenched as the rest of the city, but the stables were still standing. The sound and scent of animals, as well as people, implied that they were still operational as well. These facilities, the ecstatic Vantha had told him tremulously, were called The White Elk Stables, and they were operated by the members of the Frostfawn hold. Perrin hesitantly led his mule into the entrance of the stables. He was not sure what to expect, despite the reassurances provided by the man he had met in the street. The ground squished underneath his boots a bit as he shifted his weight. “Hello?”

[Alea Davenport]

A young girl of about fifteen looked up from where she was tending to one of the many horses living in the stables. Her hair, which fell unkempt in front of her face, was a darker shade of blonde, which ruled out any Vantha ancestry, but she certainly acted as though she belonged in the stables. She stared at the newcomer for a long moment, not speaking, before she patted the horse on the nose and walked toward the entrance.

Her boots squelched in the damp ground, but they kept her feet dry. Casting a slightly wary look at the man, she walked him to the mule. She put a hand to the mule's nose, letting him sniff and get used to her before petting him lightly. She assumed the stranger wanted to stable his mule here, but she looked to him for permission before taking the mule's lead. She still did not speak, instead trying to communicate with her eyes. Sadly, this was not a skill she had perfected, by any means.

She noticed the mule was heavily laden with baggage. She frowned as she laid a hand on it; he would be difficult to groom with that on him, and he looked like he'd had a long journey. She wanted to get him fed and comfortable as soon as possible. She looked at the man again, wondering if he would be willing to take the saddlebags himself. If Alea were forced to remove them, she'd likely dump them unceremoniously on the wet ground.

[Perrin]

Perrin watched curiously as a girl, presumably a stable hand, approached without a word. He grinned wryly in response to her stares. Getting a closer look, he could indeed confirm that she was not Vantha. Her eyes weren’t changing color, at least. He scratched under Civil’s chin idly, waiting, until she moved towards the mule. He let his had fall to his side as she offered her’s to Civil, letting him smell her. She was certainly taking liberties, he thought. But then again, if a man shows up at a stable with a mule it wasn’t a stretch to assume he wanted to stable that mule. Civil let out a soft half-whiny, half-baying sound as she petted him. Perrin cocked his head to the side. “Hello?” He kept his eyes on the girl, waiting for a response. He raised a brow as she returned his greeting with another stare. “Well... I’d like to stable my mule. He goes by Civil.” She again responded with a look. Continuing her examination of the animal, she touched it’s saddlebags, as if to remove them. “Ah, let me get that,” he mumbled, moving to the mule’s side. He fiddled with the fastenings a little, loosening them one by one. After a moment, he gave the bags a tug, and they slid off of Civil’s back. Carrying the saddlebags upside down, by the fastening straps, he slung them awkwardly over his shoulder. He strained a bit under the weight, but with his free hand, he motioned towards the Mule’s lead.

[Alea Davenport]

Relieved that the man seemed to understand her attempts at communication, Alea took the mule's lead and led him to one of the grooming stations. It was not her intention to be rude to the man who had come with Civil, but ever since she lost her voice, she found it easier not to interact with people unless they needed something from her. Though it may also have had something to do with how she'd been feeling strangely...distant from humans recently. She wasn't sure how to explain it...so she didn't try to.

The mule was possibly the most agreeable animal Alea has ever met, and he allowed himself to be led with no complaint. Once he was secured, Alea fetched a box with various combs and brushes. She first took out the curry comb and began rubbing the mule's coat in small circles. That the two had been travelling for a long time was apparent by the sheer amount of dirt that came out under the comb. She was soothed by the rhythmic motion of the comb, and by the sense that Civil was enjoying the treatment as well.

After a few chimes, she happened to look up and noticed that the man was still standing there. She looked away uncomfortably... didn't he have somewhere else to be? His mule was being tended to; did he not want to find lodging for himself? She could not speak to him, so conversation was out of the question...unless he intended to carry on a conversation with himself!

[Perrin]

Perrin shifted his weight and pulled at the hem of his green jerkin with his free hand. The silence of this stable hand was undeniably awkward. It seemed as if she expected him to just leave. She led his mule away without another word. He pondered the situation, tugging the saddlebags back onto his shoulder. They were heavy enough to cause discomfort, but Perrin didn’t thin he’d have trouble carrying them. After a couple of chimes in silence, he called to the girl once more. “Hey,” he said, “What’s it cost for Civil to stay here? I figure I’ll be here in Avanthal for a while.” She stared again. Perrin sighed and pressed his face into his free palm. This girl’s silence was slowly getting to him... he was certain that she was mute. Physically incapable of speaking. “Hey, listen, I’m going to go find some place to stay. I’ll be back later to pay for stabling, I promise. You have my mule, I’ll have to come back one way or another.” With that, he turned and sloshed out of the stables. He began to look for someone to guide him to the nearest inn. Nearly twenty chimes later, he had been directed towards the Savintar Warrens. Another Vantha, this one a bit more morose than the last, had told him that all guests in Avanthal stayed in the warrens. Besides that, the wooden cabins weren’t melting. And so he went, seeking the main office at the Warrens. A while later, he was walking back towards the stable, the box in his pack twenty Mizas lighter. Perrin thought the rate was high, but at least he was given the privacy of his own cabin. He appreciated having a roof to sleep under, after all that time on the road. Perrin fully intended to negotiate a price for stabling Civil, regardless of whether the stable hand was mute. Soon enough, he was walking back through the entryway.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea relaxed substantially once the man had gone. She did not worry too much about payment; people rarely tried to avoid paying their debts in Avanthal, and as he'd pointed out, she did have his mule. For several chimes, she just lost herself in the quiet, rhythmic work of combing the dirt out of his coat. She had managed to get both of his flanks free of most of their dirt, and she was now carefully working on the mule's face, being careful not to get any dirt into his eyes.

She stared into those eyes, and her heart gave a sudden leap as she was forcibly reminded of someone who was no longer here. Tears rose unbidden to her eyes and fell onto Civil's nose, and Alea had to stop grooming him for a moment while she sobbed into his neck. After she had cried herself out, she wiped her eyes and picked up a brush to continue grooming Civil's coat. It had been four days since Yuros had left, with no explanation and barely a goodbye. She had responsibilities now; the city of Avanthal still needed people to care for it; she did not have time to mope around waiting for him to come back.

By the time Perrin returned to the stables, his mule was combed and brushed, and Alea was just lifting the last hoof so that she could clean the dirt from the bottom of it. There was no sign of her minor breakdown; that was a secret between her and the animals of the stable. When she had finished scraping the last of the dirt with a pick, she stood up, satisfied with her work. The led the mule to a free stall and made sure it was supplied with water and hay. Then she approached the man and held her hand out, palm upward, and looked at him expectantly.

[Perrin]

Perrin stomped his boots in the doorway. The mud was well... muddy. It was building up on his boots after all this walking. He stomped a bit more, then swung his right one around in a faux-kick. He watched with satisfaction as he slung a particularly well entrenched mud-cake out of the door. Satisfied that his boots were clean, he turned once more to the silent girl tending his mule. He sighed involuntarily at the prospect of communicating with her. She approached with her hand outstretched. Perrin swung his pack off of his shoulder and took out his lockbox. Glancing down, he ran his thumb along the crest stamped into the lid, A leaping hare set against an eclipse. Fingers of flame reached out from behind the moon, extending in all directions. He looked back up at Alea, but made no move to open the box. She still had her hand out. He sighed again. “I dunno how we’re gonna do this,” he said, “but we’ve gotta find a way to work this out. I have no clue what to pay you.” His mind explored the possibilities for a second - even using Hypnotism. He felt a bit guilty about that, but the again, he was just problem-solving. Perrin shook his box idly, listening to the coins inside jangle. He drummed his fingers on the lid. “You know, you haven’t even told me your name.” He thought some more, his fingers still tapping away at the box. This, he thought, Has to be the weirdest welcome to a city I’ve ever had. But then again, there were plenty of bizarre things going on in Avanthal - not the least of which was a massive climate shift. He wondered if he could sign on to help rebuild the city, at least for a few days. He could use the money, anyways.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea made an exasperated expression, and looked around wildly for a moment, wondering why in the world they did not have the prices written down somewhere. Her hands moved about, as if seeking for something she could use to communicate. Upon being asked her name, Alea instinctively answered, forgetting for the moment what happened when she spoke. She managed to croak out "A-" before she felt a terrible burning sensation in her through and began coughing and hacking for almost a full chime before she got herself under control again.

She managed to stop the coughing, but she took a few moments to catch her breath, and wipe away the moisture that had leaked from her eyes from the ferocity of the coughing fit. She used her recovery time to revisit the problem of how to communicate, and by the time she felt back to normal, she had finally been struck with an idea. Bending down, she smoothed a patch of ground. The mud was solid enough that it conformed to a shape, at least for a short while. It should serve her purposes.

With her finger, Alea wrote some words in the bare patch of mud. "H-o-w l-o-n-g a-r-e y-o-u s-t-a-y-i-n-g-?" She looked back at the traveler, waiting for his answer. She did not bother standing back up, knowing that she would probably need her improvised mud tablet again soon. She did move to the side and look pointedly between her words and the stranger, letting him try to decipher her handwriting at his leisure.

[Perrin]

Perrin's eyes widened as the girl tried to croak out her name. His jaw dropped slightly, and he was seemingly at a lose for words. He stepped backwards a bit, unsure if he should give her a slap on the back to clear her airways, leave to get help, or just wait. Alea's coughing fit subsided before Perrin could overcome his shock. He coughed a bit himself, similar to how one would politely request attention. Perrin nodded - whether to himself or Alea was unclear. "I'm sorry, I had no idea. Whatever it is, that seems like a terrible illness." He twiddled his thumbs idly as he waited for her to recover. She stopped and began scratching in the mud. Perrin circled around behind so that he could see what she was doing, and after a second her intentions became clear - she was writing in the dirt, apparently. The mud beneath his boots squished as he shifted his weight uncomfortably, his fidgeting becoming more noticeable. He wondered whether there was somewhere he could go to 'rehearse' his routines, and perhaps even throw a few punches. Traveling always made him rusty, and standing about in a muddy stable did little to console him. Once she had finished scratching her message out, he nodded once more. "I dunno, I could stay for a few days or a whole season. It's hard to tell." He glanced out of the stable's door. The sky was clear and a mild breeze set the door swinging slightly on it's hinges. His mind wandered, exploring the myriad paths he could take from here. A few days or a whole season? He had no clue. A few more moments of thought and he snapped back to reality. "Could I just know the rates? Perhaps I should pay incrementally until I leave. I dunno."

[Alea Davenport]

Alea smoothed the mud over her previous words, heedless of how completely her hands were now covered in mud. She also had a bit of mud soaking into the knees of her trousers. She had long given up trying to keep herself clean of mud, a near impossible task with Avanthal in this state.

Once she had a smooth mud patch again, she answered his request, "5 s-m / d-a-y o-r 4-0 s-m / s-e-a-s-o-n." Hopefully the man could do his own math. She did not have the patience to explain in writing that if he stayed eight days or longer he might as well pay for the season. She was pretty sure the stables didn't just stop charging after eight days, so the choice between daily and seasonally seemed like the kind of thing someone should make at the start.

She awaited the man's choice, her hand resting subtly closer to the "per season" price. It then occurred to Alea that the man might not have 40 silver mizas. Alea herself had split her last gold miza not too long ago... she was essentially broke.