Closed [The Kelp Bar] Curious Circumstance

[Siral Avadur]

Siral could not help but smile as his new companion worked her way through his question, the reluctance to hold back almost tangible in the air between them. This was perhaps the most favorable of his reasons for such questions, as Siral was just as eager to have his audience learn something about themselves as to learn it himself. But when she spoke of the change in her life, so similar to his own, the young bard knew this story was one to hold close. His expression showed no change however, and still his smile stood, firm yet warm. Siral let Ayatah finish her thoughts uninterrupted until the question came back to him, and once again his words came out almost melodically. "Prose and Performance are my trades, and I weep for the man who slaves away at a job he does not enjoy, so I am lucky to say they are quite firmly my passions as well. Beyond those however, it is tough to say. Most of my passions are as whimsical as I am, and can sometimes be as fleeting as the Zeltivan tide, if need be. I suppose you could say I am very adaptable to my situation, and can find reason to be in good cheer with what I have." Siral chuckled at his own words, painting a quite dramatized image of himself, which he was quick to correct. "Not to say that all of my loves in life end so tragically, but a bard's life should be a tale in it's own right, and I strive to hold up to that. I have a few other passions of course, but such things will require quite a bit more ale to loosen my tongue. Figuratively or Literally." Siral took a final sip of his ale, gently sitting the empty tankard atop the wooden table, and ended his words there. A comprehensive response that ultimately concluded to the vaguest of answers. Siral quite enjoyed playing with his words.

[Ayatah]

Yes, Ayatah thought as she listened with a smile on her lips, I can imagine that what entices you must be whimsical, as you say.

The bard’s answer was not a clear one in the literal sense, but it certainly betrayed little snippets of his personality. Clearly Siral’s passion for music and performance were important to him, as was the fact that he continued to enthuse for them so wholeheartedly. Having once shared such intense passion (albeit for different things and people), she appreciated and admired sharing the company of a man so dedicated to his skills and trade.

”You are lucky that your trade and passions are one and the same,” she said, glancing down and seeing his empty jug. Kelp beer was a taste that Ayatah was far from partial to, but she finished her drink all the same. Then she nodded to the two empty tankards, ”if you are not too busy, I am more than willing to take on that challenge of loosening your tongue,” the words were said with a playful tone, and her eyes glittered almost mischievously, ”figuratively or literally.”

No, kelp beer was not something Ayatah particularly enjoyed, but that giddy warmth that had started to spread throughout her was something she could get used to.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Siral Avadur]

Siral gave a humble bow of his head as Ayatah spoke of his luck, although perhaps he wouldn't see it as such. Still the sentiment was always welcome, and the minor gloom that prodded at Siral's thoughts for a brief moment faded as quickly as it arrived. What really made the minstrel cheery however, was the woman before him downing the last of her ale. He always hated being the only one drinking in a group, but it was apparent that would not be a problem on this night, with this passionately interesting new companion. Now, Siral's curiosity was quite the beast, but few things caught it's attention better than a woman with the same humor and wit as the young bard. Such was his upbringing after all, as most, if not all, of the women in his troupe were just as skilled in rhetoric and drama as any of the men. Siral had the luck to at least reach adolescence before being torn from his family, and so he became quite enamored with such women, and that still tinges his passions to this day. "Well then, it would be rude to not accommodate you, Rose. What kind of host would I be, without drink and song and story to see." Siral spoke those rehearsed words on their own melody, a relic of years past. But once again, the darkness would not remain, as this bard soon had his mind swarming with tales of adventure and comedy. "For an adventure such as this, however, we shall require a change of scenery. Something more... Free." As quick as his words had left his lips, Siral stood, motioning to the barkeep not too far away with a strange pantomime the two had developed over the past few weeks. The bartender was not fond of it. But regardless, he pulled a jug out from under the the tall wooden bar, and started to tap one of his casks of ale for the gentle minstrel and his lovely companion. The latter was most likely the only reason he was going along with this. All the while, Siral gathered up the two empty tankards on the table by the handle, sweeping gracefully to the side of the table. He motioned for Ayatah to come along, his playful smirk still solidly settled upon his features, before walking by the bar on the way to their escape. He laid the man's dues with a clang of coin on the bar top, and swept up the jug of ale. And as soon as the idea had came to him, Siral was already through the door and into the crisp Zeltivan air. ...Hopefully with his companion alongside him... OOCSorry for the late reply, was quite busy the past few days. Anyways, feel free to write as we're walking along if you'd like. It'll be a short trip, as Siral is just leading to the docks.

[Ayatah]

Her intrigue and arousals caught aflame, like some sort of flammable liquid, when Siral spoke and stood up so briskly. Where was he going? Aya was not sure, but she damn well knew she was tagging along. So she hurried after him, weaving in and out of the seats and avoiding the other patrons who sat lazily around the tavern.

The Zeltivan coldness hit her like a slap to the face, and instantly her skin prickled with tiny goosebumps. She was clad in Myrian leather: a top that cut away at her ribs to reveal her cinnamon-coloured skin and three long claw marks that stretched across her stomach. She had a jacket, sure, but it certainly didn’t protect her from that damn cold wind. ”I miss the heat of the jungle,” she muttered grumpily as she watched her own breath cling to the air in front of her, ”it’s never cold there.”

No, it wasn’t. Taloba was wet, muggy and hot. But the weather was a small matter, and had not been enough to keep her in the Myrian city. Other things had driven her out: a mixture of fear and anger and pain. A moment passed where she was silent, thoughts busy with memories of her family and home. But she brushed it aside, wiping the sadness of her face and replacing it with another breezy smile.

This man she had met seemed to personify the casual happiness she lusted after so much; he was… quirky, yes, but appeared to be cheerful with his life and appreciated the happiness music and performance bought him. When I leave Zeltiva, I will be like that, she promised herself, glancing up to the fat pale moon in the sky above them, I’ll take you as my witness to that vow, Leth.

”So, my musical friend…” she began, her long legs taking just as long strides as she followed the bard, ”what adventure are you taking me on?” Her dark eyes glinted with excitement as she spoke. It was particularly un-Myrian of her to be so trusting - and she couldn’t shake off the mental image of the disapproving look she knew her mother would give her - but that night, Ayatah just did not care.

oocApologies about my delay as well!

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Siral Avadur]

Siral always enjoyed the brisk Zeltivan nights, especially down by the docks, where the ocean spray tinged the air with its marine smell. The small bumps that ebbed along his skin were no longer troublesome, and the stern breeze that pushed in every now and then was a pleasant reminder that things were never truly still. For despite the merry persona and the pleasant facade, Siral never felt all too comfortable with staying idle. Not physically idle, per se, as even Siral understood the merit of taking a rest every now and then, but more along the lines of mentally idle. It simply was not the way the young bard's mind worked. As if anyone truly knew how it worked anyways. The duo continued walking down towards a pier that Siral had always enjoyed, the view of the expanding harbor quite pleasing. The first time she muttered, Siral had decided to let it lay, as it was apparent from her face that this climate was not her own. But once again the silence began to creep into the minstrel's mind, and thankfully it was not long-lived. The twilight hours gave the sky a fading orange aura near the horizon as Ayatah spoke, and the bard could not help but gaze outward towards it as his own words came out. "Nothing but a prelude, I'd say. A tale of happenings in the past and events yet to be. A story, if you will." Siral turned to his new companion and flashed his cheery smile in her direction as his feet stopped just as his words did. Before them was the Zeltivan harbor, filled with ships of all sizes, some lit by torch-light and others dark as the sea they sat upon. Deciding it a decent enough vantage, Siral set down the jug of ale (by now getting a bit cumbersome to carry with one hand while maintaining his usual dramatic grace), and took a seat on the edge of the wooden docks. He invited Ayatah to sit beside him with a wide smirk as he began to fill the tankards he had borrowed from the tavern, and once again the words spilled out with as much whimsy as the man himself. "I deliver on my word, after all, so I do hope you're up for quite a bit of drinking and revelry, and adventure to say the least." Siral was beaming with his subtle cheer even in the darkening winter night, and raised one mug in his hand, while extending the other. And so the night began in earnest, for better or for worse. "Shall we?"

[Ayatah]

Whether he was leading her to a specific location, or simply wandering, Ayatah was not sure. She had not been in Zeltiva long enough to know the city yet, let alone at night. They were strolling down a promenade though, until they were at the end of it and standing over dark waves.

His strange wordy answer was unclear, and did not seem to answer Ayatah’s question at all. Nevertheless, she simply smiled in the dullness and sat down when he did. ”I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable living so close to the sea,” she admitted, looking through the tiny gaps between the slats of wood that made the dock. Below, the sea frothed and foamed in nighttime waves, a mixture of black and grey. ”In the Sacred City, we live far from the sea. Myrians are far from sea-farers,” she paused to consider the other half of her parentage, ”and my father’s people are desert-dwellers, so I can’t imagine they’re at home on the sea either.” She chuckled at that, shaking her head a little as she considered how very different Zeltiva was to her home.

She accepted the tankard, raised it, and took a gulp. She swallowed and shuddered almost instantly after, ”I don’t think I’ll ever get used to kelp beer either.” She said, though it didn’t stop her taking another glug. Then she turned to Siral, tucking one leg under and leaning back a little, holding herself upright with her free arm. ”You said you travelled a lot as a boy, so I would like to ask you… What bought you to Zeltiva?”

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Siral Avadur]

Siral gazed out over the ever-darker horizon as Ayatah's words touched his ears. But her points only made the man of whimsy chuckle aloud, the juxtaposition of her ancestry and her environment quite entertaining to him. Siral always enjoyed such differences, and thought that far too many people strove to avoid them, as if the change of pace would somehow kill them. A change of perspective, his father would call it. 'The thing that you must keep in mind at all times, my child, in the perspective. The story is never the same as long as you remember that.' And with that memory, Siral couldn't help but smile, and fought to keep the sorrow from building once more. "Well then, you should bask in it while you can. You never know when your story may whisk you away to a new setting." Siral gave her a flash of his playful smirk as he took a gentle sip of the ale in his hand, letting the foul liquor pass down his throat. It was definitely not a smooth glass of wine, but there was something to be said about the traditional beer that Zeltiva fostered; something sentimental, almost. But Siral had deflected this topic for far too long this night, and perhaps it was the ale that supported him, but Siral decided to spare the pleasantries and dramatics for a moment, and spoke with a plain and gentle smile, tinged with the darkness of his past. "It was the place with the most pleasant stories, after my parents were taken. It was the first place that came to mind, and so I made my way here. You could say I know quite well how quickly the story can change, but I'm not angry anymore. Such was the development of my tale, and made me into the man I am today. Everything that has happened has led to this moment, just as this one will lead to thousands more. Life is not meant to be dwelled upon, only reflected." Siral chuckled, his usual humour returning to him as he realized how far he's gone off the path again. "I digress though. Suffice to say, my life took a drastic turn, and I came here a few years ago because it was the closest place I could remember." It was a story that needed to be shared sometimes, but Siral was never fond of keeping it in mind for too long, and so he wasted no time mirroring the question back to his drinking companion. "And yours? What is your curious tale, my rose?"

[Ayatah]

There was something strangely comforting in the knowledge that pain did not discriminate; everyone had experience some sort of pain they wished they could shift from his or her memory. From his slightly dampened spirit, Siral was no different. From what he said, she guessed that Zeltiva was something close to a haven for the bard; the home of happier times and memories. Quite the opposite of my reasons to come here she thought sombrely.

And she had not missed how he described his parents has having been ‘taken’. That in itself left a lump in her throat. She had never known her father, but the mere idea of something terrible happening to her mother…. She coughed and shuddered, though whether that was from the chilly winter air, Aya was not sure.

”I came to Zeltiva…” she began, gaze descending to her hands, almost shamefully. ”-- to escape my home. The storm at the start of Spring took many things from me, and it changed my home. I came here because I needed to leave, for my own sanity more than anything.” It was a selfish prospect, especially from a Myrian. Their people were so dedicated to their Goddess-Queen and their jungle and city that leaving was usually perceived as a sign of weakness or duplicity. But something indescribably painful had been stolen from Ayatah, to the point that remaining in Falyndar was doing more harm than good ”I felt like I was hurting the ones I love the most by remaining there, keeping secrets from him -- them.” She frowned, annoyed at her slip of the tongue. Then she sighed and glanced back to Siral, ”I apologise. You asked why I came to Zeltiva and I gave you my life story. I came here to learn. That is the most simple answer.”

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Siral Avadur]

Siral knew better than to press the matter further, but there was one point on which he felt the need to speak upon, and he made care to craft his expression as friendly and passive as possible when he did so. "Your story is, rather, Exactly what I asked for. I feel people lose something when they try to simplify their lives. Labelling oneself as this or that creates a misrepresentation of who you are, in most cases. No one is simply a blacksmith or simply a tailor, despite how humble or depressed they may be. Likewise, no story is truly simple; simply misrepresented." Siral chuckled to himself, taking another sip of the ale in order to loosen both his throat and his tongue. He continued, maintaining his usual good cheer as he regained his train of thought. "But I digress. We both seem to have found a sense of refuge in this interesting city by the sea, and for that I am glad. Disparate souls seeking solace from the morose reality of the world." The young bard flashed a playful smirk after spouting his random verse, before taking another healthy sip of his drink. The Kelp Bar's swill may not taste all too good, but it sure did the job, one way or another. Seeking a more pleasant topic of conversation however, Siral quickly set about changing the mood of the evening. He pulled his legs up from their dangling position over the wooden pier, and quickly folded into a pretzel-sitting position facing Ayatah. The last shimmers of sunlight were dancing across the waves as dockhands continued their work by torchlight, and the two 'drunks' were left in peace. As the bard spoke once more in his delighted tone, there was a twinkle of twilight in his eyes, gazing poetically into Ayatah's own. "But I do believe I've had enough morbid tales for one night, so perhaps a more entertaining genre is in order. I'm still quite curious about your 'passions,' violent or otherwise." Siral could defend himself if need be, but it didn't take an expert to know that he would be royally screwed if he wound up on the other team as this Myrian. Siral is more of a lover than a fighter, after all.

[Ayatah]

Ayatah chewed up what Siral had said in her mind, deciding whether or not to agree. Sure, there was always a loss of detail and… grandeur, she guessed, when someone shortened their own life story. But then again, some things did not need to be shared with strangers, or even kind acquaintances that made you laugh. However, the latter part of his statement about labelling oneself was something she was much more accepting of. ”I have learnt that lesson as well.” Smiling faintly, she explained herself, ”My people - or rather, my mother’s people - are not accepting of outsiders, or half-breeds. So I’ve spent my life trying to be Myrian, and trying to not be like an Eypharian. But the labels don’t matter. Saying I’m just one or the other is not who I am.” There was almost a sense of pride in what she said, and that alone struck Ayatah as strange. Could it be that I am beginning to accept that I am as Eypharian as I am Myrian?

She was appreciative of the change in topic, and copied his movements so she was also facing him, though her long legs lay straight out, at an angle. Despite the coldness, it was a pleasant evening. The waves gurgled below them, the last of the birds were calling to each other before roosting. When his next question came to light, Ayatah answered with a raise eyebrow and tilting her head to one side. ”My passions…..” Her voice trailed off, thinking.

Ahh, her passions varied greatly. The two things she loved more than training and hunting with her Myrian comrades were reading and learning with only herself for company. But there were other things that warmed her heart, too: friends and family, and love. Of course, her devotion to Myri as well. ”Ignoring what I said about labels earlier,” she chuckled at the irony of what she was about to say, and unsheathed one of the double-bladed daggers she wore at her hip. It was made with a fine wooden central hilt, with two daggers either side that arced in opposite directions. ”In some ways I am a typical Myrian. We spend three years with our army, so defending my jungle home and patrolling its parameters is something that gives me joy. So you could say that that is a passion.” She ticked it off holding up one finger. ”But then I love learning, and that is… not a typical trait of my mother’s people.” Two fingers were held up now, and then her hand dropped to her lap and she shrugged, ”so bloodshed and knowledge. They are my most basic passions. There are more, but you’ll have to ask the right questions for those.” Then she winked playfully, and took another sip of that horrid Kelp beer.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||