[The Stone Garden] Contemplating Conversation (Paltra, open)

[Ora Sa'vina]

82nd of Summer 510AV
The Stone Garden
Dusk

Ora was leaving soon, she found this fact bittersweet. The young Konti had met all sorts of folks, friendly, not so friendly, human, not so human, but all of them had given something to the young woman, whether they realized it or not. Ora had learned a few things during her stay in Syliras, one of which was the peace that the Stone Garden brought her and the ease she felt while she practiced her dancing amongst the grave markers.

She had been in the garden sense lunch time, mostly just sitting on one of the stone benches, her mind wandering from past to future. The first Akalak she had met ended up dead, hopefully her future experience in River Fall would end up better, at the very least, Ora hoped it would not end in another death. Her violet eyes watched a few people trickle into the garden and leave shortly after; they seemed fleeting, as if they were visiting out of a requirement.

Once there was a lull in visitors the young woman would stand and begin to dance, a few mistakes, which caused her to stop and start from the beginning again. Her movements were fluidly, though the occasional sudden, awkward move seemed to break the dance as a whole. Once or twice during the hours before dusk was Ora able to complete the dance smoothly and properly, with no noticeable mistakes.

While her body moved, her mind did as well, attempting to relax. Ora was worried about the travel she would having within a few short days. A long trip across land or sea, either way it would take quite a while. The young Konti was worried as well, would the trip be dangerous? Should she go by boat or by land? Where would she get on the boat? Ora had not thought her trip through as well as she had originally thought.

Her attention moved as the bell tower rang out the time; it was eight in the evening, getting later, Ora would be returning to her chambers shortly after the sun had finished its full decent. A small smile crept across her pale face as her violet eyes hid behind thick eyelashes, her body moving and turning gracefully. She continued on her dancing while the sun cast warm colors across the gray, cold stones.

[Paltra Immuran]

510 AV, 82nd Day, Summer--The Stone Garden

The city of Syliras, the capital, was nothing short of spectacular to Paltra. But, at the same time, even with all it’s splendor, safety, and glory, he was terrified of it. It was no place for the likes of him, nor a place where those who would seek to undo the tranquility found here. A stalwart lighthouse amidst an ocean of heartbreak and havoc that was Mizahar. Yet, as deeply as he found himself loving this place, he knew it was not his own, that he could never call this place his home, not with what he’d already set into motion with his life. Long before coming to Syliras his fate had been sealed by his own ambition, an ambition that would force him to embark upon a path of fame and fortune… or despair, perhaps even death…

Only yesterday had he realized this, after having once more gone down to the Great Bazaar and failed to even lift on pocket of it’s belongings. Worse yet, he had not bought a new cloak and hood. And as luck would have it, Paltra was spotted by a Knight, near to the same area that the Rogue had tried to pick-pocket before on the 79th. It was ill-fated from the start though, as his own emotions, or his feelings, had shed a grim light on the world in the beginning of that day. So, he imagined he deserved it, the ill-fated running session away from the Knight, whom had cornered him once and gotten a very, very good look at him…

Now it felt like it was just a matter of time, a noose being tightened around the neck on the hang-man’s deck. His heart beat raced for a moment, catching in his throat in an icy grip before he managed to regain his stature. Slowly he breathed, walking forward toward the only place that he figured he could go to without being disturbed. After all, it was the place where to bother someone would at times to be bothering one in their most sincere moment throughout life…

The Stone Garden. A Cemetery. Quite in fact, probably the first actual cemetery that Paltra had been too. There was only one other time that he’d been forced to see anything of the sort, in any diction to him… When he tried to bury his parents, tried and failed, and watched as the rats started to get curious…

He stifled a small amount of bile from rushing forth. It was the one thought, the one dream and image in his mind that would always haunt him he supposed… Paltra proceeded forward, his clenched throat giving slightly as the tremor that wrought his body went away. His eyes laid upon the earth, forlorn and distracted, his stomach feeling so tight that he could barely breath. It was bad enough that this place brought up old, bad memories that were never put to rest, but he also felt like he were ever slowly getting closer and closer to being found by the Knights.

Paltra’s eyes raised upward, trying to catch the last fleeting light of dusk on the headstones. What he found though, was nothing short of shocking to him…

For an instant, she looked as a ghost, dancing on the earth in a fluid motion and grace that left Paltra breathless. White hair, ending not a breadth after the chin of the delicate creature before him, pale skin, the likes of which he had heard tale was characterized with some forms of apparitions, and the mere fluid grace found in her movements. It was hard for him to make any other conclusion. The white dress helped little in this assumption, furthering her motions with the gentle sway of cloth.

His jaw clamped shut, he stood there in awe at the display the woman showed, seemingly to herself or the dead… Paltra shook his thoughts off of him for a moment, speaking up as he took another cautious step forward.

“Hello?” He spoke carefully, almost softly, a light twinge of excitement running up his spine. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but… I’m Paltra.”

What the hell am I doing… I came here to hide, not talk... he thought to himself. Paltra was most certainly cautious… but, he didn’t feel afraid of this person somehow…

[Ora Sa'vina]

The young Konti froze once the voice spoke up, her violet eyes snapped open towards the direction of the noise. Ora's eyes landed on a human male, a familiar face, one that could blend into a crowd, nothing was particularly stunning about this man, she might have seen him before in the bazaar, maybe not. He introduced himself, an odd thing to do in such a place, usually people continued about their business without pause. "Paltra?" She thought to herself, trying to see if she had heard the name before. "No, I do not remember that name."

Ora moved slowly to face him, standing straight with her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes remaining on the rust colored eyes before her. "It is a pleasure, Paltra," She bowed her head slightly. "I am Ora Sa'vina." The young woman took a few steps closer to him, her eyes remaining on his face as she seemingly floated towards him. "What brings you to this place, Paltra?"

[Paltra Immuran]

Ora Sa’vina? Such an exotic name… I don’t know Ghosts that call themselves by such things. Then again… never knew a Ghost, perhaps it’s just an exotic Ghost? He thought to himself, before his mind backtracked, Paltra’s innate intelligence kicking in and divining something more likely.

What am I even saying? This woman’s no Ghost… don’t know what she is… can’t be Human, far too delicate. And that dancing… He once more stopped his thought, deciding that it was perhaps best to stay his mind, at least for the time being.

Paltra smiled to Ora, his head bowing slightly as his friendly demeanor spouted forth. “Well… I’m just trying to get away for awhile… the stresses of this place are unusual to me, and I’ve never visited a Cemetary before, so it seemed perhaps the best place to go to escape.” Paltra nodded, and then realized that if he were the one hearing this little talk, he could have picked out the hidden meanings all throughout his sentence. It was like a painting of words, something that he could do quite well when prompted, or when desired, such was his skill. But he didn’t need to now… he wasn’t going to try to manipulate this person, that he reserved only for those whom he first met with the intention of such things, and she was… well… a woman… his chivalrous side wouldn’t allow him to do anything unsavory to a Woman…

Still… with the words he spoke, such as ‘…get away for awhile…’ or the comment where he’d spoken of the stresses of this place being unusual. Indeed they were, for he was from Sunberth, a place that was almost entirely devoid of any sizable guard force, and certainly no official one, let alone Knights. And there was the final word, a word with a few of it’s fellow accompanying it just before that were unnecessary. It hinted further at his need to escape. Yet, at the same time, he managed to convince himself that he wasn’t lying to her, appeasing his chivalrous side. After all, he’d spoken truthfully, merely abstaining from the details to which he wanted to get away from…

“Pardon if this may sound rash, or intrusive… you don’t have to answer it by any extent… but, you are as white and pale as a Ghost… I know not that Human-kind are naturally as such. Which begs the question, are you Human?” Paltra spoke, hoping that he didn’t sound like a buffoon. Always his curiosity got the better of him, this time was no different--evidently. He shook his head slightly, smiling again as he looked back to the woman, momentarily shocked by the fierce contract of violet eyes against pale skin.

“I’m sorry if I offend, I mean nothing by it… but I have a hard time seeing you as Human with the way you danced. Truth be told, you looked as a Ghost dancing across grave soil…” Paltra smirked, running a hand through the back of his hair, leaning to one foot as he both observed and admired the unknown entity before him.

[Ora Sa'vina]

A small tingle in the back of her mind brought a smile to Ora's face, he had not lied to her, therefore she felt comfortable trusting him as well as being around this strange man. His words were truthful, at least to him, and Ora found it easy to relate. Syliras could feel overwhelming, it still was in some ways to the young Konti. The Stone Garden was a place Ora found herself frequently, it was a nice place to go and get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. As the young woman smiled she nodded slightly at his statement. "I can understand that, it can be overwhelming," She turned slightly, her eyes looking at the quickly fading sun. "This is a nice place to visit when one wishes to escape, it is quite calming." Her attention turned back to Paltra, a smile still contently resting on her face. The Konti knew better than to pry into things that were none of her concern, what this man wished to escape from could have been anything from the crowded bazaar to an angry wife, neither of which was something that Ora needed to know, especially if this man wished to not speak of it.

Ora found his question odd, this was the first time she had been asked what she was, so far it seemed people knew her race well enough to identify one on the street. The young woman laughed quietly at the man, there was no reason for him to worry about being rash or intrusive, the question was a simple one and no more offensive than asking her name. "It does not sound rash or intrusive, Paltra, it is a simple question that I will gladly answer," She paused a moment to breath and push some hair behind her ear. "I am not a Ghost nor am I Human, I am a Konti, from Mura, the White Isle. We are the children of Laviku and Avalis." The young Konti's smile seemed to grow at the mention of her Deities.

The mention of him seeing her dance brought a wave of red across her cheeks, she was not one to let others see her dances. "Oh," Her eyes flashed to the ground as he spoke. "I am sorry if I frightened you, this place seems the best for me to practice, very few people come here." Her eyes trailed over the ground, looking from the dirty stones to Paltra again. "So, you are not from here then?" Her subject switched quickly, she did not wish to speak of her private matters, even if they did not seem private.

[Paltra Immuran]

Paltra smiled wider when the woman didn’t seem to wish to question him on the details of his excursion from the more populated areas of the city. And she also seemed to understand what it felt like to be in a city like this. Paltra followed Ora’s gaze to the setting sun, delighting in the way that the vibrant show of sluggish, smooth light slinked down beneath the horizon.

He was drawn back though with the delicate and quiet laugh that came from the woman. Strangely enough, he found that laughter was something he obviously didn’t hear often enough, almost like a melody. He quickly subdued the thought, writing it off as being far too dramatic a notion… though, it was hard to discount the fluidity in the voice of the grave-dancer…

When she answered his question, telling him of her race, where she came from, and the names of two dieties that he only knew by name, he only wanted to ask more questions. He’d never heard of a Konti before, nor of the ‘White Isle’ she hailed from. When her cheeks flushed red at the mention of Paltra seeing her dance, he couldn’t believe how innocent Ora seemed. Where he came from, you were always watched, no matter where you were. If you thought you weren’t, merely look in a crack in the wall, and see a pair of small glinting eyes of a rat looking back at you. Yet, it was refreshing at the same time, that the whole world wasn’t as hardened and cold as Sunberth was.

Paltra caught on fast in any case when Ora seemed to want to avoid the subject of her dancing. He imagined that, with the way she practiced it, that it was something special to her. Things that were dear to one’s heart were never to be spoiled by an outside force, perhaps most of all a complete stranger. Though, the particular subject that she jumped to certainly wasn’t one that he was particularly proud of…

“Well… let’s just say that I come from a place that I’d rather just as soon forget.” Paltra sighed, casting a wayward glance back to the sunset. A moment passed by before he looked back to Ora, feeling obliged to say something about it. Though, anything single detail could stand on it’s own and still condemn Sunberth just the same.

It starts with an ‘S’ and is the mortal enemy of Syliras, he thought to himself, and then spoke to Ora with s smile. “It doesn’t really have any good aspects to it, and everything that I can think of about it probably wouldn’t make for very kind-hearted conversation material…”

Paltra leaned back, having started to do so a few moments ago, before he stopped himself just short, rather clumsily as he took a step to the side instead. He stabilized himself, looking to the left--where he would have leaned against should he have allowed it--seeing the tombstone with a woman’s name written upon it. Curious, Paltra read down, unsure of what precisely he was looking at. Slowly, his rust-colored eyes graced the epitaph…

In memory of a beloved mother and wife, who died before her time, Paltra read, feeling his gut tighten up as though someone had just slammed a hammer into his rib-cage. He looked away, carefully avoiding looking at any more epitaph’s or names as he looked to the sunset. Idly, he could feel a slight tremor work up and down his spine, to which ceased the moment after he noticed it. Paltra mentally suppressed the thought, not daring to look directly at the woman until he could be certain that he could control himself.

“So, why are you in Syliras?” He spoke, managing to sound normal despite the random event that stirred up thoughts that shouldn’t be thought, especially after so much time from the incident that took his mother away.

[Ora Sa'vina]

The young woman watched Paltra while he spoke, frowning slightly as he answered her. "I am sorry, I did not mean to pry." Her glance moved from the man to glance over the stones surrounding them. "There is no need to speak anymore of unpleasantness." She stated simply, moving fluidly across the ground towards the wall of stones. The young woman's eyes moved to the wall after she finished speaking, her fingers brushed over several stones before her.

Violet eyes moved back to the man as he moved, turning to look at the marker of someone else, the last evidence of their existence. Ora watched Paltra for a few moments, her fingers lingering on a cold stone as she noted his reactions. His eyes moved quickly from the stone to the setting sun, which was just a sliver on the horizon. The young Konti looked back to the stone, giving the man his privacy, it was not her place to question him.

The woman stirred from her gaze upon the stone to turn and look at Paltra as he asked her a question. It was a simple one with a simple answer. "I decided to stop here for a short while before continuing on to Riverfall." She said honestly, smiling slightly at the man before her. "I wanted to see Syliras and find a way of passage to Riverfall." She watched Paltra as she spoke, her hands returning to her sides. "What brings you here? There is no need to respond if it makes you uncomfortable." She added on the second bit quickly before he would have the opportunity to speak.

[Paltra Immuran]

Paltra smiled as Ora spoke, nodding at the mention of where she was headed. Though, admittedly, he had no idea where Riverfall was, but that didn’t particularly matter. However, the mention that she was trying to find a way there was interesting. He gestured nonchalantly, the same placid smile on his face ensconced upon his features.

“Not at all Ora, besides, I did bumble around while you were obviously doing something you enjoyed performing on your own. So, the least I could do is answer at least one of your questions without dodging it.” Paltra answered with a chuckle, glad simply for the distraction from his thoughts.

“I came to Syliras to see this place, to see what the air was like.” He spoke, looking side-ways at Ora. “Well, that’s just one way of saying it I guess… what I mean is that I want to try to see what Syliras is like, how it feels, the way it moves the way it smells, the way it cheers and howls… I hope that makes sense…” His hand ran to the back of his head, slightly embarrassed by what he’d said. It didn’t quite make much sense in literal terms, but the feeling of what he said did, at least to him. It was the same concept as the place where you live not being your home. It had another meaning behind the denoted one, something that escaped literal definition at most times.

“After this though, I plan on dropping by my home town, just to see how all my old friends are doing, then I’m gonna figure out where I’ll be off too next… Who knows I might just be dropping by that Riverfall place you were talking about. I guess you could say I’m trying to get the world to know me as much as I want to know it.” He let a pause go by, looking to Ora. After a second, he chuckled, wondering if he sounded like some naïve boy. It wasn’t a lie in the least, but he dared not tell a soul here in Syliras that he intended to be known as one of the greatest thieves and assassins of all time… though, perhaps a little more on the peoples side in the case of assassinations…

[Xelin Sylaaf]

With his guitar in one hand, and a bottle of stolen rum in the other, very little could dampen Xelin's spirits on this day, not even a cemetary. Especially a cermetary, he thought. It had come to him that cemeteries were an ideal place for a few hours of practice time. It was tough to get practice, especially when you had no home. Inns tended to me raukus and noisy, and if they weren't you were always expecting the room next to you to bang on the door to be quiet.

No, graveyards didn't have that, they were often quite empty and very rarely did people interrupt him. If they did, Xelin would usually just explain he was playing for his dead grandmother or lover or whatever gravestone was closest to him. They tended to go away after that.

Xelin zig-zagged around the field of headstones, looking for a proper spot to practice and drink his rum in peace. That's when his eyes caught two strangers speaking to each other. They look like strangers, Xelin thought, their body language looked it. He decided to walk by, maybe he could guage if they were planning on leaving anytime soon. It was always a toss up when two people were talking in a cemetery.

As Xelin walked past the two, avoiding eye contact just yet as to seem like he was on his way to a grave, his ears caught the end of the male's sentence.

[i]"I’m trying to get the world to know me as much as I want to know it. [/i

A traveler! Prime picking for a few coins worth of a song. Of course, proper etiquette would say that a song would not be the most appropriate for someone at a funeral. But as Xelin saw it, etiquette was for weaklings as Syrilian knights.

With apt fluidity, Xelin turned on his heels and caught on the end of the male's sentence. "Ah! Adventure! You sir, sound like a man much like myself." He approached the two happily, "Please pardon my intrusion, but a man of my trade tends to be quite forward." He extended his hand, "Xelin Sylaaf." He turned to the girl he was talking to and flashed her a cocky smile. Noting she was quite pale, a sharp pain ticked in Xelin's side. The fresh memory of his last encounter with a pale woman kicked in his nerves.

[Ora Sa'vina]

The young woman listened as Paltra spoke, his words held a great deal of insight the Konti had not thought of. "To see what the air was like? Ora thought to herself, her eyes glancing over the stones. "I never really thought of those things, such simple ideas that are over looked." The woman smiled at the stones before looking back to Paltra. "I--" The woman was cut off, her eyes watching a stranger pass by only to turn quickly on his heel.

Violet eyes watched this man closely. "Is it normal for humans to do this? Is this considered rude?" Ora was unsure, to her, you politely stand and wait to be acknowledged and allowed your chance for words, this man seemed to care little for the traditions of this woman. A strange expression twisted the Konti's face as her eyes bounced between the two men, the one who had just appeared apologized while he continued to speak, settling some of Ora's tense nerves.

The white haired woman bowed her head to the man in respect and greeting, a small mumble announced her own name. "Ora Sa'vina, it is a pleasure, Xelin." Her eyes returned to the stones before her, her voice dying out quickly. Such an odd introduction, this man was confident, that was for sure, and shy did not seem to be a quality this man could ever possess.