Flashback [The Lady's Lap] An old friend comes to town (Valo)

[Corneliun]

17th spring 511, Corneliun is 19 years old
The Lady's Lap- Midday- 12th Bell

Spring had come to Ahnatep, the hot dusty winds pushed against the city walls. The temperature however still rose from the temperate winter that previously held the city, a rise so sudden that those who were not use to the seasons here would indeed suffer. But even the pale skinned Corneliun was use to the climate. He had lived with his father here for nine years, and those nine years were highly important to him. They formed him into a confident young man who became capable of holding his own against others. Perhaps a little too well, for more than often he would be involved with scuffles and the like. Of course, it was always for the greater good; to play the dashing rogue had become the normality for Corneliun, and in honesty his looks began to match it. He kept himself clean, his stubble cropped, the childish features of his youth having now faded into maturity. His tattoo was only a few weeks old at this point, it was done in the late of winter, crisp and clean, the raw skin having now returned to its pale complexion.

But whilst the Lady's lap did appear worn and lacking, it was indeed a place that Corneliun would occasionally bring himself to relax and to socialise. To escape the heat, to receive sustenance and to forget the more roguish side of him. Although he was no lodger, he was still welcome to the other services provided here, of food and use of the bathhouse, as long as he paid his way. For the meanwhile, the mixed blood was simply relaxing in the common area, a piece of rock being held between his thumb and fore finger, studying it's shape with an open book before him. Inside his handwriting scribbled across it, notes covering its pages with various ink sketches covering it. There was nothing particularly special about the rock, it looked like any that could be picked up off the floor, rough edges and a look as if it was about to crumble. Of course, there was more to this simple rock than what met the eye.

Geology was indeed a complex subject, and one that had been drilled into Corneliun for most of his life. The piece he held before him was sandstone, of course, most would recognise that when told, but the other features and knowledge perhaps were alien. But if he were to talk about it freely he would no doubt receive some bizarre looks. Quietly he placed the rock down on the table before him, making a few more notes before pushing them aside. His meal should be here soon, but for the moment he was pleased enough to just let his golden eyes relax and stare across the room. Simply watching and observing after all was the most interesting past time after all.

[Valo]

He took a deep breath as the city unrolled before him like some kind of elaborate parchment. A collective flamboyance of structures that have been so heavily decorated that each one, with no exceptions seemed like a palace of it's own. A rich city, both in culture and in aesthetic. And he felt rather small, despite his admirable height, lost and quite alone once again in a change of surrounding. Though, not wanting to let on that he was well and truly lost and that each street and each corner were so terribly unfamiliar that a great sense of home sickness humbled him, he began strolling forward, calm in his condition of subtle distress. He should have grown used to this constant change of scenery by now, but no such event took place. And the farther he walked, he more he realised that the city of the Ephyrians was both beautiful and perhaps a little frightening. But one thought overwhelmed him more than anything, for he wanted to paint here and he wanted to capture the very essence of the city onto canvas. He wanted elaborate colour combinations and brush marks to give the idealistic marvel of the scenery. A wish that would no doubt soon become a reality, for he planned to stay here for a while. Several long roads and several turns, several cramped alleys that led into more roads and corners. And after a while of simply strolling though the streets and marvelling at the elaboration of Ahntep's architecture, the Inarta found him self in a more modest part of the city which lacked that exotic beautify of the great temples and monuments. And nested within it he had finally found an in, though it too was simple in comparison to the rest of the city. None the less, gladly he entered, relishing in the cooler interior. A place to rest for a while, perhaps even rent a room for the entirety of the next thirty days he'd spend here. It seemed a place as good as any other. And truth it was, that Valo was not made aware of the city's social structure - though the general feel of Ahntep hinted at this accordingly - nor did it very much bother him. An inn was an inn, and he was not staying for long. The interior was indeed much cooler than the somewhat scorching environment on the exterior. And perhaps to the Ephyrians this was mild weather, to the man from the mountains of Kalea, the heat was exhausting to the point where he rolled up the cuffs of his white shirt, hoping dearly that the sun shall not scorch his skin of alabaster. And his red hair of velvet was tied into a simple plat, now hanging down to the right of his face, rendering his youthful appearance all the more feminine.

[Corneliun]

Corneliun spoke quietly to one of the staff as his meal was brought to him, his tongue clicking in basic Arumenic, the two silver mizas leaving his hand with a simple request escaping his lips, before he watched the staff scuttled off. He proceeded to eat, barely pausing between mouthfuls as he turned the pages in his writing book with his free hand. It was often how Corneliun studied; he focused as much time as possible on his notes, even in the middle of meals. A bad habit perhaps, but it was as good any other time.

Corneliun's head turned slightly when he heard the sound of someone entering, his eyes drifting to meet the form. A foreigner stood there, hovering round the entrance, a look of relief filling his face as he escaped into the cool of the Lady's Lap. It was obvious he was a foreigner, the clothes gave it away for one, from the shoes on his feet, to the rolled up sleeves of his shirt. His bold red hair screamed out he was one of Inarta blood, with the pale skin to match. Not that Corneliun himself could comment, he too was pale skinned, but that was due to his own heritage. For a while he simply analysed, his mind ticking over as he thought through ways to interact. The most obvious would be to simply step forward, a huge grin, the air of an idiot once more being played. But today, Corneliun was not in the mood for simply throwing himself forward. No, today he was going to reel the people in. He finished his meal, and pushed the plate to one side, giving him space once more to look at his open notes if need be. But for the meanwhile, he focused himself on the beginnings of a good time.

The first few steps were the most important, through a simple greeting it became possible to understand a person’s standing, where they thought they stood and their immediate thoughts. Subtle words and actions would push Corneliun to take a different tactic, be it through the entertaining fool, intelligent conversation or somewhere in between. For every person was different.
"Awioth-eniya stranger!" he addressed the foreigner in common "Come, sit, enjoy the cooling shade in company."
Corneliun shot a grin to the man, his hand gesturing to the empty seat opposite him, “Unless of course, you fancy yourself as ornament to be looked at.”
As he finished speaking, the same member of staff he spoken to before placed a pitcher of water and a clay cup down next to it. He gave her a quick thanks as a second cup was brought over, before she went on her way. He closed his book, and sealed his vial of ink. Study time was now over, and the fun was about to begin.

[Valo]

Barely did he enter the establishment as a voice spoke out from one of the tables, a friendly voice it seemed and a friendly face to match. The greeting came as an utmost surprise, as the young Inarta spun abruptly on his heal to face the stranger whom had addressed him. Large green eyes, though deeply set and of the most exquisitely perfect almond shape, now settled on the form of the stranger, flickers of surprise within their emerald surface. Truth it was that Valo had not expected to be greeted in such a bold way - or in fact greeted at all for that matter - but perhaps luck has once again lingered on his side. And with no wish to be rude he sat opposite the man, a suggestion of a smile playing upon his lips which were ever so slightly ajar in a manifestation of his thought; and such was that he wasn't quite sure what to make of it all. Still friendship is a commodity so priceless in these times and especially to a traveller, for friendship got him this far and nothing other. He wasn't about to pass up a chance to establish yet another friendship. And should the man prove hostile, Valo knew how to protect him self. Therefore he set the bad and the bow beside him, but at close proximity shall he need it. The stranger's skin seemed perhaps as light as his own. A fair marble, despite the scorching climate of his home city. And thus Valo found him self wondering how such a pale man came about in such a relentlessly sunny city and how had he managed to keep so pale in spite of it all. Dark hair, perhaps black or dark brown, but it's true shade was impossible to see in the shade of the inn and he was unshaven, but unlike the hair, his stubble was contained and trimmed in the ways of fashion, rather than unkempt and haphazard. Facial hair that exhibited his masculine features well and sharpened the natural outlines of his face in a handsome way. Yes he was handsome, in Valo's eyes. But then again Valo was a man who looked for beauty where he might find it. “Unless of course, you fancy yourself as ornament to be looked at.” The remark seemed strange but somehow quite accurate; though Valo himself would never admit to that. His pride wouldn't allow him to do so. In all honesty however, Valo did considerer him self as quite a sight, especially among the plain humans who knew not the beautiful rich colouring of Inarta. A contrast to them, he was exotic and dashing and elegant. A man with just the right touch of femininity, rendering him a flamboyant ornament indeed. And even in this tiered state with a soft glow of sweat to his forehead and gentle shadows beneath his eyes, the manifestation of lack of sleep; he was still rather handsome. Valo was a skinny child and he grew into a slender youth and then in turn into a slender man of impeccable posture and a fluidity to his movement. If he was a lady, one might think that he'd been corset strained all his life, so straight was his back. He was, in fact, also much taller than the stranger. "Thank you sir." he spoke, a calm voice with the texture of honey. About them the staff fussed, bringing water and clay mugs and in turn Valo politely smiled and nodded as their eyes lay upon him. Prying eyes wishing to catch the glimpse of the hair, the colour of blood from a freshly severed artery. Inarta were people quite content with their home land, people of tradition and love of the mountains. Perhaps the people of Ahntep might have never seen an Inarta in their life. And they never will, for few people realised that Valo was only half the man he seemed to be. He lay both his hands on the table, propping his tiered frame up ever so slightly, though constantly maintaining his elegant posture without fail. And his eyes stared directly into those honey coloured spheres of the stranger's eyes. "And to whom may I owe this pleasure of such fine company, may I ask? For it is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance sir." he spoke, though his words were the words of a polite man than those of an honest one.

[Corneliun]

Corneliun continued to smile. Although he appeared to be a somewhat friendly and forward, a large welcoming attitude surrounding him, Corneliun already knew he had the one up. He could see the flicker of surprise, the brief uncertainty in the green eyes fixed upon his face. And that was how Corneliun planned to continue to play. He watched the foreigner sit down opposite him as he suggested an element of nervousness even with the bow placed next to him. Definitely a man of Inarta heritage, they were known well for their archery, or more specifically, Corneliun remembered their skills at archery. Having resided in Wind Reach in his early years with his father, he had more than enough time to deal with the antics of the red haired people. Antics that he of course accepted naturally, namely because he too shared the same blood.

He could see himself being analysed, the green eyes tracing his face. Not that Corneliun objected, he simply played upon it. He turned his head to one side as a member of staff walked past, and perhaps at first it may have seemed as if he was for a moment distracted or at least until the low voice came from his lips.
“Be sure to get my good side,” the words rolled from his tongue. Although they were far from the smooth words that of the foreigner, there was still a charm behind it, a subtle mix of accents that he had picked up throughout his childhood. He gave a grin then turned his gaze once more, to the Inarta, a sly wink as he reached for the water pitcher. He poured the liquid into the cups, the quiet glugging filling the moment of silence between the two men. The cup was slid forwards, the water shimmering in the dull light as the ripples spread across it.

Before the foreigner sat an opposite, a reverse image. To begin with Corneliun was shorted in stature, but it was not this stature that limited him. His features were broader, masculine, where as the foreigner was lighter. Even from the bright hair and the hairless chin, to the way he composed himself. Where the foreigner sat up straight, Corneliun simply leaned back in his chair, the pleasant look and smile upon his face. He remained relaxed, his eyes fixing with the man, but no words were spoken as he observed. There was indeed nothing to be said, for it was simply through looking that Corneliun was planning his next advancement.

A slender gentleman and a rogue with a rather athletic frame. Of course, all interest was on the foreigner, to see such a bold colour was a delight indeed. And in some respect, it reminded Corneliun of a place he once could have called home. Of days of freedom and the years of his childhood. But that was an age ago, and now Ahnatep was home, and Wind Reach was just a memory. The eyes continued to pry upon the pair, a deep fascination with the foreigner growing, a feeling Corneliun knew too well. He after all received the same looks when he finally settled with his father, and it was a phase that would quickly pass.

But then the Inarta spoke once more, simple conversation escaping from his lips. Corneliun listened, the cup raised to his lips before he took a mouthful of the water. Refreshing indeed, for water was no doubt the most precious of substances to exist, and would no doubt be worth more than even the most precious of minerals in the right situations. Like now for example, the foreigner had escaped from the heat and most likely was gasping to free his mind of it. Firstly however, it was time to answer the words of the foreigner. Corneliun cleared his throat, his right hand extending forward as if to shake “Frik,” he paused for a moment as if letting the foreigner absorb the name into his memory “Corneliun Frik. And you who speaks like a gentleman?”

[Valo]

It was strange that the man before him had already referred to his speech so boldly. And though it was true, for Valo had prided him self greatly upon his eloquence and articulation and all those other things that one might find in a good story teller. Though Valo was not one, he wanted to speak like one; for pretty words are a sign of education and intelligence and thus was something he prided him self upon ever more greatly. More than his art perhaps. This boldness of his companion however was quite interesting, for the man wasn't rude at all, merely bold. For many would not have spoken with such audacious manner, yet he seemed to fear nothing. The unspoken social laws would not hold him back. And that was perhaps a quality that the artist admired, though he did not comment on such. However as the name came, there was a distinct flash of surprise within the traveller's ivory features. A widening of the eyes, a subtle drop of the lip. A flash which only lasted perhaps less than a complete moment, but it was no less present. And subsequently to that, his eyes lowered and rested on the flagon of water and a crescent of a smile was carved into his face of alabaster and his hand performed somewhat a habit of his. For mother nature had truly burdened him with almost impeccable vision and therefore he'd never actually wear glasses. But this didn't stop him from attempting at propping an invisible pair - for a pair of glasses seemed to render any face alight with intelligence - up on the bridge of his nose. And thus in a fluidity of movement, his fingers settle on his nose for a moment in a manner that must have looked quite strange to his companion. However it was a habit of his whenever he had to take a moment and think about something at a faster rate than he'd otherwise have liked to. Retracting his hand, and laying his eyes back on Corneliun, Valo softened and tamed that smile, leaving nothing but a lingering suggestion though his eyes were alight with some unspoken joy. And that joy was a flood of childhood memories that now saturated his mind with their pleasant nature. The memory of the most incredible friend he had. A little boy of mixed blood. Of course back then Valo was much much shorter and they would have been probably the same height. A single soul that perhaps dulled down Valo's inner hate of himself for the impurity of his Inarta blood and the one person that made him thing that perhaps he wasn't just half the man he wanted to be. Of course that bond was severed years ago, as Corneliun was whisked away from Wind Reach, never to return. Valo's hand rested on the mug of water that had been slid to him as a prerequisite of the name and now his long slender fingers traced the circular shape lazily. "That's utmost amusing." he commented. "You see I've had a childhood friend of precisely the same name. Of course that was back in Wind Reach up north." And with that statement he had completely forgotten to share his name, for it no longer seemed to matter. It wasn't rudeness on his behalf, just the disarray of a youthful mind. For that mind was now focused on Corneliun, wishing to know more of the man, if just to hold on to a few memories which had perhaps very little in common with a man that now sat before him. But, after all, men do the strangest things to hold onto such precious memories.

[Corneliun]

It was perhaps the look of surprise that alerted Corneliun. It made him think carefully, to plan a different tact. How could a name cause one to react in such a nature? The subtle movements, of nerves or perhaps an attempt to draw the look of surprise away. Either way, the action or more over the reaction seemed slightly bizarre at first, but instead of questioning it, the mixed blood gave a small nod, before taking another sip from the cup. The smile became tamed, and the eyes of the men met once more. He could see the Inarta thinking carefully, those green eyes trying to draw out something or some hidden meaning. And then the foreigner said something rather fascinating.

"That's utmost amusing" spoke the foreigner "You see I've had a childhood friend of precisely the same name. Of course that was back in Wind Reach up north."
Amusing perhaps would have been an understatement. More than simple coincidence would be more accurate. It made Corneliun think. It made him remember the days of the mountains, of the home of long ago. Not that his expression showed a change in thought or emotion, instead the steady smile remained. The aura of a forward man remained, but no words were spoken as he mulled the Inarta’s over. He remembered Wind Reach well, of days of the cooler weather, of the mighty eagles and of simpler, fun filled times.
“Oh, really now?” the words almost seemed to purr “I heard Wind Reach is a lovely place, the mountains there are beautiful, no?”

Corneliun was not about to spew out his past to a stranger, although a feeling made him believe this foreigner was far from that. He remembered his own childhood friend well, or more over the only childhood friend of Wind Reach. He knew already about Wind Reach, he already knew of its nature and its people, of the hierarchy that existed. But by playing this tact it allowed him to understand more, of this foreigner without seeming intrusive. It gave an illusion of being an observer simply looking in, when in reality there was a lot more than what he revealed behind his eyes. Corneliun could not help this, namely because of his upbringing. He found it hard to get on with the other children; no doubt because he was an outsider and outsiders were treated as such. Then again Corneliun was always an outsider looking in, to play an observer. Even here in Ahnatep it continued, but instead of drifting into the background, the mixed blood threw himself forward.

He lowered the cup, sensing the growing curiosity of the foreigner before him, a want to know more. Of course Corneliun would only answer what was asked, and even then he would also remain economical with the truth. The more foolish side of his nature was pushed to the back, allowing his mind to remain sharp. It was clear that this was a man who preferred intelligent conversation over that of a fool. And so Corneliun could not help but bring himself to play that necessary part.

“Judging by your reaction you and your childhood friend were… close?” he made it sound like an attempt at making small talk, no sound or hints of his more prying nature. The next few steps were vital, it aided in checking one story against another, in cross referencing the information and bringing the name of this foreigner forth. If the information he wanted was not received, he would ask once more for the name of the man, portraying the illusion that he simply did not quiet grasp it.

[Valo]

And so to mention his own name was nothing but forgotten to Valo now, for his wits were grasped in the conversation. “I heard Wind Reach is a lovely place, the mountains there are beautiful, no?” A smile grew on Valo's face and that smile was all but voluntary. How could one not smile when questioned about the home he so cherished? And perhaps he would have looked a fool, for no will would tame this gentle crescent within his features of alabaster. "Beautiful indeed. The whole of Kalea is a cluster of beautiful mountains. Though Wind reach lies right in the belly of such a mountain, or rather in the belly of the Fire God." he answered, his eyes periodically drifting into defocus as he spoke. Words saturated with the warmth of his memories. “Judging by your reaction you and your childhood friend were… close?” asked Corneliun, perhaps attempting a little small talk. And if so then it was very much appreciated. Perhaps it was a blessing that the two had met in such circumstances, for Valo began to enjoy his competition thoroughly. The young Inarta was not particularly secretive at all and perhaps had a habit of talking a little too much about him self and the inner most mechanisms of his mind. And the façade of caution that was meticulously established at his arrival in Ahnatep, had nothing but crumbled down, revealing the warm, if not a little naive, man beneath. A certain innocence in a man who was all but innocent and a good heart in a man so fundamentally good hearted. ""Ah yes, very close indeed. Three of the best years of my life I have lived with that boy. Though one day he simple left the city and I haven't heard from him since." he replied with a very subtle woeful note to his honey voice, but the crescent in his face still lingering, if not perhaps warmer than before. The truth was, Valo had long ago come to terms with the loss of his most precious comrade and the memories of him were nothing but pleasant. And though he wished they had the chance to grow up together and then hand in hand travel Mizahar like a duo of fearless explorers, those wishes would not smear those great memories. "How about you, Corneliun? Have you lived all your life in Ahnatep?" the artist asked briskly, in an attempt to engage with the man as he had engaged with Valo. It seemed in most terrible taste to talk only of one self, even if he had so much to say. And his thirst had finally dawned on him a little and he took a sip from his mug, though eyes still focused on Corneliun.

[Corneliun]

Corneliun listened, his ears pricking at certain words, his golden eyes forever fixed upon the Inarta. He could see the smile grow, the look of pleasure in talking about his homeland so freely. Caution had been lost to the man, and so Corneliun continued to hold the upper hand. It was so easy to pull the information out of the man; a simple question gave him so many answers. Three years, Corneliun lived in Wind Reach, and his sudden departure matched, even if there was no real answer on why he had to leave so suddenly. His father’s business was rarely shared with him, particularly when he was younger.

Yet there was a pang of disappointment, a sense of loss to the foreigner before him. A loss that Corneliun understood very well. To be taken away so suddenly left nothing but bitterness and remorse whenever he thought of Wind Reach, or more directly to his own father. Whatever made them leave that night was surely all his fault. He ruined everything. But Corneliun did not let the memory get the better of him. The past was the past, and now was the present. Nothing could be changed.

And then Corneliun was questioned in turn. He refilled his cup before taking a sip followed by a refreshing sigh over the cool liquid. He leaned back, his eyes staring at the foreigner but focusing on nothing in particular. The foreigner was intent on conversing with him, and Corneliun could not help but join in.
“I have lived her for the largest part of it,” he took a second sip “Though not all of it.”
The truth, but not the full truth. He still kept his cards close, letting only the smallest amounts of information out. But as his mind began to filter through the memories, he felt the gaze of the Inarta lock upon him. Curiosity ran through his face, whilst Corneliun remained composed with his smile. For a moment his attention shifted to his writing book, his mind thinking deeply as it dived into deep memories of his childhood. There was one question that Corneliun wanted to ask, but now was not the time to ask it. He needed to know more, he needed to be certain. And so he chose to ask a different question.
“So,” he paused as his hand rested on top of his writing book “What brings a man from Wind Reach, all the way to Ahnatep?”

[Valo]

“I have lived her for the largest part of it,” stated Corneliun whilst sipping his water so casually. “Though not all of it.” "Awh may I ask where you resided beforehand?" asked Valo in his most natural curiosity. But barely had he asked, another question came his way. “So,” he paused as his hand rested upon an item which looked like a book of some sort. Curious was Valo as to what this book contained but it would he rude to pry, besides he yet again owed his companion an answer. “What brings a man from Wind Reach, all the way to Ahnatep?” "I'm merely passing though my good sir." he stated in all honesty. And answer for an answer, an equal exchange of personal information. That was the nature of their conversation. "You see I am currently on my way to Zeltiva. Or rather would be if not this little detour to Eyktol. It would be foolish for an artist to not visit a famed city of beauty and magnificence, don't you think? I believe it's important to know as much as possible of one's world and what better way there is than to travel and see it all first handedly?" There was much love for the whole of Mizahar in Valo's words. The words of a man of utmost curiosity and thirst for knowledge. A man who wouldn't be satisfied if he resided in a library, for he wished to see and experience everything. And thus he spoke freely of him self and his profession and his travels, thinking not of any danger that could befall him from a man who was quite a stranger still. For that was the reason for conversation. To allow men to leave the title of stranger and establish friendship.