Closed A Familiar Face That Lay Beneath The Mask [Strig]

[Enria]

Enria let out a small smile at the Isur’s apology. It must have been hard for him to apologise like that, especially since, Enria was sure, he didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. It wasn’t as if the two knew each other to know which was a touchy subject to question. He also blew off her concerns by assuring her he was fine, but Enria still felt sure that something was wrong with him. She wanted to press it further but he spoke about how it was his younger birthday which threw up feelings such as homesickness. Maybe that was it? Enria tried to replay her earlier encounter with Strig to see if he was just as pale and troubled then, and once satisfied that it was only after the reading; she turned to him and bit her lip. What was he hiding? Enria thought, sullenly.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Enria said, her face softening again; she shouldn’t poke her nose in other people’s business, she scolded herself; if he wanted to share with her that was his choice, and she had to respect that. “But I’m sure wherever he is; he’s thinking of you and smiling.” She watched him tap her fingers and gaze into her eyes, giving her a small smile. Enria smiled back, her eyes gazing into his stormy eyes; she couldn’t help but get lost in them, like she was almost drowning in them.

“What’s your story, Enria?” He asked, snapping Enria’s attention back to the festivities. “Shouldn’t you be spending this time with family?”
“There’s no story to tell.” Enria huffed, resting her head on her hand . “I left my mother when I was eight to go to the Yasiry, and I’ve never seen her since. It’s just me these days.”

It was the same for every Inarta and Enria was no exception to the rule. Her thoughts drifted off as she thought about her mother and her days before the Yasiry. She couldn’t even recall her mother’s name, let alone piece together what she looked like. The only thing she could recall was her mother’s singing voices which always use to soothe her; though Enria wasn’t sure if she was recalling more of how it made her feel then how it actually sounded. She sighed, her clouded thoughts of her mother dispersing like popped bubbles. This was how things worked here; you grew up in the Yasiry and then you set out into the real world, it was almost like being a bird; you were taught how to fly and then set free to do so.

“There’s a reason we celebrate like this.” Enria summed up after a few minutes pause. She believed that her people spent this time together because they were a community; there is no need to segregate people into families when Wind Reach in itself was a family. “We’re a community, everyone relies on each other; we rely on hunters to feed us and the healers to heal us and so on.”

“Do you celebrate like this in your homeland?” Enria asked, she gestured to the dance floor which was filled with people dancing rhythmically to the music with beautiful ornate masks on. She wondered about the man sitting opposite her, not just because he was still looked rough. But she wondered what it must like to wander from place to place. Was it as adventurous as one would assume or is it tiring to never have a place you can call home? Enria looked at his face again, his eyes always shadowed by the bags under his eyes. Yet he seemed to shrug it off and act as if nothing could bother him. Even the tarot reading that clearly bothered him was brushed over, as if it would only matter if they paid attention to it.

“Do you ever just get tired and what to let go?” Enria asked, looking right into his eyes, wanting to change the subject. “Sometimes, I think you just need to let go and have fun. What’s life without a bit of fun?”

She smiled darkly at the Isur and wondered if she could coax the man to dance. Instead, she stood up and grabbed his hand, dragging him to the dance floor.

“Let’s have some fun!” She called back to him.

[Strig]

“There’s no story to tell.” Enria huffed, a thin layer of emotion present in her voice. A touchy subject Strig noted, filing the information away for future use. She placed her head on her hand, speaking clearly and calmly, although how she really felt about it all was lost on him. “I left my mother when I was eight to go to the Yasiry, and I’ve never seen her since. It’s just me these days.” The Yasiry? Strig had never heard of this place. He imagined a giant bird cage, suspended in the air by chains. With small children peeking their heads through the bars, chirping and squaking at those passing by. Strig frowned, turning his head and taking in what was around them, the Inarta of Wind Reach had separated into several open circles, dancing and clapping their hands at the musicians in front, who sawed their instruments wildly. Songs were being sung but Strig couldn’t place the Nari sounds, the infinite clicks and whistles that floated on the air. When Strig turned his head back to her, Enria was smiling, as if lost in her own thoughts, or perhaps she was noting the smile on his own face. “We’re a community, everyone relies on each other; we rely on hunters to feed us and the healers to heal us and so on.” Looking at the people dancing, Strig found it somewhat amusing, these people were so spirited, so wild and yet they allowed themselves to be constrained, each given a job to do, each taken away from their parents when they were a certain age and given their place in society. In a strange way, the structure reminded him of home. ”Do you celebrate like this in your homeland?” Enria asked. Strig thought of the Trazen which occurred every season ”The Isur Clans would come together in memorial of the master craftsman, legendary warriors and heroes from their legends.” He said. ”For a four days a year, previous conflicts, quarrels and rivalrys are forgotten and all Isur would stand as Trazen, the Isur word for family.” “Do you ever just get tired and what to let go?” Enria asked, looking deeply into his eyes. ” Sometimes, I think you just need to let go and have fun. What’s life without a bit of fun?” Enra smiled mischievously at him. Strig raised an eyebrow in innocent confusion. She grabbed his hand and pulled. Strig yelped but she was stronger then she looked taking him into the centre of one of the dancing circles. ”Let’s have some fun” Enria shouted, Strig was nervous, unsure. The bright colours of the Inarta flared across his eyes, the sound of insects buzzing, music and laughter ricocheted off the walls, encompassing them both. Strig swallowed, his heart pumping, the greys in his clothes making him look like a ghost in a world of colour. He didn’t know how to dance, he wasn’t sure how to think. He could imagine Dreg sitting by their abandoned table laughing at him, uncorking a bottle of wine with yellowing teeth, splashing himself in glee. Men and women twirled with sashs of silk trailing behind them, masks gleamed in the brightness. Strig stood still for a moment, before slowly moving his arms and legs, he couldn’t dance, it was not a part of his education when he was younger. They were frivolous, useless things. He looked at Enria, silently screaming for help as Inartans surrounded him, clapping their hands and a plume of red consumed his cheeks.

[Enria]

OOC :

Hey, sorry for the delay! Have you checked out this thread yet?

Enria was lost in the music momentarily, before glancing over at the Isur, who looked rather uncomfortable, by the looked of the red hue on his cheeks; it was nice to see him with a little bit of colour back in his face, considering all colour had drained from his face earlier. She offered him a small sympathetic smile, but her view of him was blocked by a bright sash that had been waved in front of her face. She giggled and tried to catch it with her hands. But it was always just out of reach from her fingertips. She laughed and gave up in defeat and waved the dancer away.

“Do you not dance?” She turned to the Isur and cocked her head to the side, giving him an inquisitive look. She smiled again and took his hands. “Come on, I’ll show you!”

Sighing, she pulled the man deeper into the dance floor, where dancers twirled around them with different coloured sashes. Some were a hot red, while others were a cool and soothing blue. Enria loved the brightness of it all, the vibrant colours seemed to make her think of an artist’s painting coming to life; the bright paint strokes lifting off the canvas and swirling around before her. She grinned and coming to a stop, she began to teach the Isur how to dance. She slowed down the movements of the dance, so that he could see exactly what he needed to do; though it was not without a few accidental steps on a few toes but Enria waved it off. Instead she clapped to the beat of the music and found herself slipping back into the trance of the music.

“You’re really not a dancer, are you?” Enria smirked, turning her attention back to him.

Around them the atmosphere seemed electric; dancers were lost in the music, almost like Enria was earlier, while their sashes that were tied to legs, arms or gripped in their hands twirled in their wake. It had now only occurred to her that Strig was void of all colours, unless you counted his rosy cheeks. Enria took a sash that she had earlier tied around her waist, one that she had almost forgotten about, and took it off; instead she tied it around his wrist.

“Everyone needs a bit of colour.” Enria told him and flashed him a smile. After a while, she asked, “So tell me what’s your story?”

It was almost as if the man standing, or rather dancing, in front of her was a mystery. She’d only met the man once before, when she went to have lunch one day, and even then he didn’t seem to stay long enough for her to find much out about him. Even now, she seemed to know little about him; it was almost like an unfair trade, she told him about herself but for little return. She found herself gazing right into his stormy eyes, and tried again to read them but to no avail. She watched as another dancer twirled around them waving his sashes around their faces and smiled once more, the splash of colour dispersing her thoughts.