Closed Wind and Hats (Harkon)

[Scaea Paille]

Fall 36th, 514 AV

Scaea had spent the better part of the morning strolling along the Glass Beach. She had borrowed a bathing suit from one of the many slaves catering to visitors at the beach, and was very carefully picking through the larger pieces of glass near the water's edge, looking for the prettiest of the bunch. The bathing suit itself was black cotton with silver trim, and looked much like a dress that was cut short above the knee. She had already found a handful of pebbles, a few in varying shades of pink and a couple in pale greens and blues. She clutched them in one hand, wandering around and leaning down to dig through the beach glass.

There was a gentle breeze, as seemed typical this time of year, and it was an incredibly pleasant day. The weather was mild for Kenash, but it was still incredibly sunny, forcing Scaea, for as much time as she was spending in the sun today, to wear a hat. This wouldn't normally have bothered her if the breeze didn't occasionally grow stronger, pushing her hat off of her head and sending it flying. She had forgotten to bring a string or a ribbon to tie it down, and Zulrav seemed to be punishing her for her carelessness in those moments that she chased her hat down.

Now was one of those moments. She had thrust her handful of pebbles into a pocket on the dress and was running down the beach after a particularly strong gust of wind. Scaea was attempting to sprint and catch the hat, but every time she was within arms reach, another gust blew the hat away. It was incredibly frustrating, and she was currently debating giving up and stopping at the hat shop on her way home and buying a new one for all of the trouble the current hat was giving her. For being part of a Dynasty full of stormwardens, she was then quite annoyed with Zulrav.

[Harkon]

Harkon had no assignments from the Morealis' today, and didn't feel up to any particularly useful task. So he decided to take a day in Syna's light, something he missed greatly from his days back home in Yahebah. Normally he would go to Shipwreck Beach as it was closer to the Terraces where he lived, but instead decided on Glass Beach. He dressed in his brown trousers, white shirt, and boots, and made his way through town. Arriving at the beach, he noted that it was especially populated, and the sun felt a bit weaker than normal. But nonetheless he was grateful, for after having lived under Syna's smile for so long, he doubted he could live happily without it. He walked along the beach, wholly uninterested in the glass beneath his feet unlike the majority of the visitors. He saw several rocky outcrops jutting out of the water, some much larger than others. Spying one that was in the shallows that looked climbable, he removed his boots, and carried them at his chest as he began wading over to it. Arriving at it, he tossed his boots up to get them to where he wished to rest, and after many attempts, finally succeeded. That out of the way, he looked up. It wasn't an overly high climb, roughly twice his height, and he was standing in waist high water. He reached up, grabbed a rough, water grip, tested his weight on it. It held, so he reached up with his other hand, a bit higher and found another. Then his toes sought out a foothold, and lifted himself up a few inches. His other foot found one, and hand over hand he inched up the face. Near the top, his grip slipped, and he fell back into the surf. Shaking off the annoyance, he went at it again. He eventually managed to get over the top, happy to see that it was fairly level. He removed his shirt, folded it, and laid it down, followed by his trousers and set it on the rock. He placed his boots nearby, only in his loincloth now, laid down, resting his head on his folded clothes and began to enjoy Syna's grace. Bells went by and Harkon had flipped over to warm his back. He glanced out over the beach, seeing a few more patrons now, he raised an eyebrow as he saw a woman chasing a hat. He chuckled watching her frustration, Zulrav certainly toying with her it seemed. But the wind took the poor hat on disappointing turn, blowing it out over the water, seeming determined to get rid of it completely. Harkon watched as it blew near his rock, on the side facing further out into the ocean, and he figured he could help. He stood up and waited, hoping it would blow near. His eyes watched it steadily, and it blew especially close, and Harkon pounced, leaping off the rock, arm outstretched. His fingertips brushed it, but he couldn't manage to get a hold on it. Then gravity took effect, and Harkon hit the surface of the water hard, stomach and face first. It stung certainly, but his pride was wounded more. He wasn't a strong swimmer, but the water was shallow enough that he could touch the bottom if outstretched his leg fully. But Zulrav had seen to smile upon his shame, for the hat floated down, landing upon the water right in front of his face. He picked it up, and waded his way back to the shore, toward the poor girl, holding it out, "I believe this is yours."

[Scaea Paille]

Scaea's face was flushed, both from running and embarrassment on many levels. She watched the man drop into the water like a stone and move around, all in an effort to help retrieve her hat. It almost escaped, but praise Zulrav it came flying into his arms like a long-lost lover. She was smiling when he came to hand it back to her, looking vaguely concerned and standing on the shore, but her smile partially faded when she noticed his lack of clothing. Her face grew a bit redder, and she forced herself to look directly at his face - which, granted, wasn't too bad of a view.

"Thank you for retrieving my hat. I'm Scaea Paille." She took the hat and placed it firmly on her head, holding on hand on top of it and the other out to him. If he was out sitting in the sun by himself, he definitely wasn't a slave, but she didn't really want to look for his freeborn brand. Her frustration had left fairly quickly as she had received the assistance. She didn't recognize the man, and wasn't sure if he had any particularly strong connections to any of the dynasties. She shuffled her feet and turned her head down the beach, looking at the other patrons of the beach, before turning back to him.

"Anything you'd like in return?" The hat wasn't particularly expensive, and she could have easily bought a new one, but she felt that she should do something for the effort that he put into retrieving it for her.

[Harkon]

He saw her blushing, before realizing that he was in front of a woman in next to no clothing. If she was a Dynast as he suspected, this could end up scandalous for her, rumors a real danger for anyone in Kenash. When he realized she was a Dynast after all, he knew what he would have to do. The polite Morealis smile upon his face, "It is my pleasure to meet you Ms. Paille, I am Harkon, and I am terribly sorry for introducing myself in such a manner. All I ask in return is for the chance to get dressed, and continue our conversation here shortly? If you do not mind waiting, I will be back shortly." He turned to leave, his back to her, and now his Freeborn brand on his right wrist visible. He waded back to his rock, climbed the short face once more, pulling on his shirt for now. He wrapped his boots up in his trousers, then tossed it over the surf back to the beach, watching them thud lightly in the sand. He climbed down once more, on the opposite side of the rock, doing his best to keep his shirt dry. Wading back to his clothes, he picked them up, shook the sand out of his trousers and pulled them on with a bit of a hop. He slipped into his boots. He was out of sight of where he'd met Scaea, and he straightened up, smoothed back his damp hair. He walked around the rocking outcropping, hoping to see Scaea still standing there waiting, so that he might make a better impression.

[Scaea Paille]

Scaea nodded. It would be much better if he were wearing clothing, definitely. She looked around at the beach, her current location a little further down the beach than usual. There were some brilliant violet pebbles here, mostly smooth with some barely-sharp corners. They could only be a year old, if she were to take a guess. The water over here was a bit rougher than it was down the beach, and it would be no problem to smooth them quickly.

A smooth pebble soon found its way into her pocket, and she only noticed the fact that the man, Harkon, had actually retrieved his clothing and gotten dressed when he was walking back towards her.

"That's better." Her face had returned to its normal red color, and the wind seemed to have quieted for the time being. She removed her hand from her head, unconsciously crossing her arms as Harkon approached. Her braid was a mess, strands slipping out and around her face.

"Care for a stroll?" Now that he was clothed, she felt more comfortable getting a good look at him - he was muscular, which suggested a job that required him to be in good physical shape. However, the appearance of a Freeborn brand on his wrist made it well known that he wasn't a slave, and as a result she couldn't put her mind on what his profession actually was.

[Harkon]

Harkon found a grin growing on his face as he saw the freckled redhead still standing upon the beach waiting. He watched as her blush faded, and her arms crossed, no longer worried about the wind taking her hat. Commenting on his appearance elicited the response, "Quite." Finding a lull in the conversation, an art he was clearly not well versed, he was saved from embarrassment by her offer of his company. "I will gladly join you." Shyke. What now? he thought to himself. This was so much harder than talking to someone on business. He was good at his job, knew what facts to get and to convey, always knew what to say. This was free time, which meant it was personal. He'd been on business for so long, he didn't really know personal. Even worse, this was a Dynast, well above his status. Those rules were completely different from the ones he knew. He decided to wing it. After all, working for the Morealis' for seven years, maybe he inadvertently picked up a thing or two. He gestured for her to walk ahead so he could walk beside her. But he didn't want to be one of those Dynastic pretty boys that could do what they want. He wanted to be different. Not too different, but just enough. "So, Ms. Paille, we've exchanged names, but neither of us know anything about the other. So I'll start, and perhaps you'll grace me by reciprocating. I am a Freeborn Benshira, from Yahebah in the Eyktol Deserts. I've lived and worked in our fine city for seven years, as a private mercenary for the Morealis'. I came to the beach today for I miss the stronger embrace of Syna's warmth from the desert." Was it a lot at once, yes, too much? Probably. But he'd managed to tell someone about himself outside of a work capacity. So even if this stroll ends with her slinging insults about him being a weird, foreign, lowborn, he'd made success. He could live with that.

[Scaea Paille]

Scaea nodded. Benshira...interesting. She generally considered Benshira to be the same as normal humans, and nothing she had learned from her tutoring had mentioned any real differences other than culture. She didn't recognize the man from her occasional trips into the Morealis estate, which was very well - she rarely paid close enough attention to the slaves and guards to recognize them in a setting outside of the plantations.

"Benshira? Interesting. I've been born and raised in Kenash, of the Paille plantation. I am Drykas of descent, and though many in my family have been marked by Zulrav, I have not been so fortunate. I work as a tattoo artist," Scaea paused, thinking for a moment about what exactly to add to her brief introduction. A hand slipped into her pocket, pulling out one of the smooth glass pebbles she had collected today. It was a brilliant red, its surface slightly dulled and scratched, but lovely nonetheless. "I came here because I love beautiful things."

Her mind quickly turned to the realization that she was talking to a random Freeborn who was most certainly not dressed to the current trends, even for the beach. She narrowed her eyes, but curiosity and gratefulness got the best of the Dynast, and she continued the conversation.

"I've been to Eyktol, Ahnatep to be specific. Why did you leave Yahebah?"

[Harkon]

He kept the polite, even friendly, Morealis' trademarked smile upon his face as she spoke. Much of the information she shared was self evident, but he liked hearing it from her. When she spoke of Zulrav, he could feel some of her pain, or thought so at least. He didn't know what it must feel like to not be chosen when all those around you had been. He'd never been chosen for anything, all that he had was what he'd worked for, with just a bit of help from his father. 'A tattoo artist? Don't think I've met one of those before now.' And she was right that the beach was beautiful. You could never find so much color back in Yahebah. Everything was dirt and sand colored. Then she said something that surprised him. "You've been to Ahnatep? Was it one of the most color-filled places you've seen? My father used to sell Ahnatep dyes and perfumes for twenty times their value in Riverfall, even more than that here in our fair city. He always said that Ahnatep is what Kenash would be if our people didn't work together like they do. Thankfully, Kenash has her head on properly." He pondered on her question. There had been no pressing reason he'd left Yahebah. He just wanted something different. And Kenash had always been his favorite city amongst his father's travels. "I wanted to make my own way, and build roots in a new city. Our families go back far and wide in Yahebah, but none of us are from Kenash. One day, my sons and daughters will be able to say that. I do not dislike Yahebah, and there are days I miss her. But I think I would miss Kenash more if I returned." He was smiling a bit wider, a bit more sincerely as he walked alongside her. This was easier than he'd expected, and he hadn't offended or scared her off yet. "I must say, I know very little about tattooing. I think you might be the first tattoo artist I've ever met. How did you get into it?" He'd never considered getting a tattoo before, nor did he have a negative opinion of them. He knew his father wouldn't get one for himself, but would understand if his son did. Perhaps he could afford one next season, but what would he get? And why?

[Scaea Paille]

Scaea nodded along to his description of Ahnatep. The city itself was gorgeous, let alone its gilded inhabitants. She had also found it incredibly similar to Kenash. She kept smiling, one that almost conveyed actual enjoyment in the conversation. Walking more quickly than usual to keep up with the man's longer strides, her grin widened at his remark on Kenash.

"It was indeed the most colorful place I had ever seen, though it smelled awful, like incense, perfume, and sweat." She glanced around, continuing. "Like Kenash, but worse."

She nodded again at his reasoning. While she herself had loved Ahnatep, she wouldn't have wanted to live there unless her very life depended on it. Kenash was her home. His remark about her profession was surprising, though. She would have thought that he would know at least someone who had done tattooing, considering he had done what she assumed was a fair amount of travel - from what she understood, his father was a merchant, and it wouldn't have been strange for him to bring along his son to assist him.

"You've never met a tattoo artist?" Scaea paused for a second, before continuing. "I've been tattooing since I was young. My father is a tattoo artist, and taught me everything he knows." She left out the bit about him being too sickly to even get out of bed, though the slight pain in her eyes when she spoke about him probably spoke volumes more than any words could.

[Harkon]

The change in her eyes was evident, Harkon being polite and looking at her while she talked, had seen it. But he made no attempt as console her, or even acknowledge that he knew. Some things were best left over a bottle of wine and closer friends. Instead of having this conversation turn sour, he decided to stay the course. "Surprising, I know. I've traveled all over, Yahebah, Ahnatep, Riverfall, the moving city of Endrykas, Syliras, and of course here. I always seem to find myself getting busy either helping my father with his business, or getting into trouble of some sort. It may not seem like it, but I was a bit of a hellion when not working. But then I settled down, moved to Kenash, and made my way to here and now." Harkon found himself gazing toward Syna, and found that their meandering along the coast was taking them southeast, diverting from the solely eastern path. He knew that before too long, they would run out of beach, and yet, he didn't wish for this meeting to end just yet. He thought about what was near this end of the beach. There was Towerly's and the Gazette on West Bank, but he didn't feel that either of those would be suitable. He saw the bridge from West Bank to Blade Island in the distance and that gave him an idea. That bridge led to Lantern Square. There was comfortable, shaded seating there, and refreshments as well. That, he thought, would be much more suited for a woman like Scaea than a smoky casino or a boring reading room. Might as well give it a shot, right? Harkon pointed at the bridge in the distance, "Why don't we continue this conversation en route to Lantern Square? We could grab some chilled wine, a small snack, and you can tell me all about your tattooing. I only know the end results of a tattoo, but nothing of how it is done. Perhaps, you would grace me with some knowledge of your beautiful craft?"