[The streets of Syliras] Coyote Wild [Gereth]

[Jischa]

82nd Fall, 510 A.V. Late Evening It was late, and it was fairly breezy, the approaching Winter making itself known via gusts of sea breeze and the clouds gathering overhead, Leth shining brightly on the fortified city. Syliras was by no means a snowy tundra however, but it also wasn't exactly an island paradise. Mura. The thought came unbidden in her mind, but she pushed it aside as she always did, the bittersweet memories of home unwelcome as yet. She hugged her arms around her waist, telling herself that it was just the chill of the wind. She'd left her cloak in her room, and the white dress she wore did little to cover her arms, sleeveless as it was. Sipping from the glass of wine she'd brought with her, she'd only meant to take a walk outside of the inn, get some fresh air. She'd been cloistered in a guest room amidst a cloud of dreamsmoke for hours, and while she'd certainly become accustomed to the feeling by now, she always felt the need to clear her head afterward, the relaxing fumes turning her muscles to jelly and her mind to mush for some time afterward. Wandering away from the inn, she'd found herself meandering toward the bazaar. Late as it was, most of the more respectable members of the Syliras society had packed it in and were safe and snug within their homes by now, but those weren't the people that tended to hold her interest. No, Jischa had a craving for the more adventurous, less safe inhabitants of the city. Not in any foolish sense, she wasn't looking to get robbed, or trying to invite any sort of harm to herself. She'd just found that the best conversations to be had were with those that lived life by their own rules; people like her, or at least how she saw herself. Sipping from her glass of wine once more, she tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, fast approaching the alleyway shortcut she often used on her way to the bazaar.

[Gereth]

82nd Fall, 510 AV

The moon always brought on a small sense of comfort, a sort of calm to the storm that had been raging in his heart. At night Gereth always felt more alive. When people, more soft, more callous, and more docile were turning in, Gereth always had the moon. Leth’s light bathed the streets, at least to his keen eyes but it was late in the day when he could actually find his way around mostly by scent. Now was one of those times, when he walked through the streets with his eyes mostly closed, enjoying the sensation of just being fully and completely alive.

Combing the alleys for dropped coins was probably not the most glamorous use of one’s prodigious sense of smell but glamor was for humans anyway. They never saw what was good about just being, still and quiet. He kept his cloak hood up as he meandered, half in wonderment and half looking for abandoned food or money he noticed the pale woman. She smelled, even from this distance strongly of smokes and bath oils, clean, and course... like delicious wine.

She was beautiful yes, in his haze (constant) he seemed to remember seeing women like her before... maybe. The same, but different. She was trying, at least to his limited understanding of it, embrace the evening the way he did. She wasn’t afraid. Even as she moved through his territory. He winded a slow circle around her before following, maybe watching would tell him more.... whether she should be actually afraid or not.

[Jischa]

If she realized she was being followed, Jischa gave no sign of it, continuing as she did into the shadow-filled alley. The presence of the Knights in the city no doubt gave most citizens a sense of security, and Jischa was hardly different. That security coupled with the pair of sai she wore in discreet thigh harnesses made dark alleys in relatively safe cities less of an obstacle, at least in her mind. And it seemed so, as she eventually emerged from the other side, the tenements that formed the alley walls fairly quiet at this hour. The bazaar, or rather the somewhat deserted stalls and booths that made up the bustling bazaar during daylight hours, was soon in sight, and Jischa twirled the glass in her hand by the stem. Cloaked and hooded figures moved about the area, no doubt engrossed in their own business, and Jischa bade them no mind in general. Walking up then down rows and aisles of covered tables, Jischa rubbed her arms, lost in thought, memories of Mura returning unbidden. Tables like these had been erected near the beaches, glittering seashells and stones for sale to visitors, pearls set in ornately designed rings and pendants, colored glass fitted together into some of the most breathtaking little statuettes. Mura. This wasn't Mura, and she was glad of it, she told herself firmly, turning back the way she'd come abruptly.

[Gereth]

He’d gotten caught up in the moment and paid for it. Watching the wine in the pale woman’s glass twirling and swaying so hypnotically had lost him in thought for a moment. A moment turned out to be too long. When she turned around suddenly he caught a strong whiff of her hair and then... well he wasn’t hiding anymore. He fixed his yellow eyes on hers with animal intensity. Still, he thought of a lie and he thought one up quickly.

“Hello, Miss. It isn’t safe to be wandering the bazaar at night alone... Not for a pretty lady, no.” His voice came out strong and clear and, at least to his ears none too threatening. He smiled gently, wide and bright even in the dim lights of the bazaar. Looking through the windows he could still see the moon. He tried not to allow the feeling of claustrophobia set in.

“Pretties.” He mentally noted to the stand of shells and jewelry in front of him. Her eyes were pale and bright. She smelled wonderful... and the wine. Gods, the scent was wondrous. Delicious life giving wine and the smell of a woman... who didn’t smell like this city in a cage. Gereth’s smile only wavered a moment, the glint of a long canine tooth flashing brightly.

[Jischa]

If Jischa seemed startled at suddenly standing face to chest with the tall man behind her, it was for good reason. She'd been paying attention to her own thoughts, and hadn't noticed she was being tailed. The halfhearted warning he gave was met with a half-smile; the Konti had some experience in lying and being lied to, he wasn't fooling her. And besides, she was perfectly aware of the dangers of the night. "Well then a pretty lady is lucky to have run into you before she landed in trouble, no?" She sipped from the glass she held, then adjusted the shoulder strap of her barely-there dress. "Unless you're the trouble I should be avoiding?" She had very little money on her at the moment, perhaps 30 silver tucked into a pocket of the dress sewn in specifically for carrying the money she made in tips at the Golden Dragon. She regarded the stranger curiously, she'd never spotted him in the inn, perhaps he lived in Syliras? He didn't quite sound as if that were so, his words clumsily arranged, if perfectly understandable. Of course, with a face like that, he didn't really have much need of words.. just money. She took a step back, not out of any fear, but rather to better see him, the moonlight shining over his ruggedly pretty features. "What brings you out here, this late?"

[Gereth]

The din of the market rang in his ears even when it was supposed to be slowing down for the night. Gereth knew that it was the time when everything was just starting to get... interesting. That was what Master used to say. The woman didn’t small afraid of him and she was certainly beautiful, like a statue in the worship house. Gereth never had much use for worship, rituals thanking Gods that seemed so distant seemed unnatural maybe... like play acting, but it was something the humans liked to do.

When she stepped backward and asked him what he was doing, in a voice that sounded both appraising and mocking somehow he managed a more genuine smile. “Me? No no... I don't mean you any harm. ” He remembered some distant nose slapping he’d received by his master for not having... manners? “My name is Gereth.” He said more distinctly, pulling his hood down to reveal his face and unkempt hair.

She looked like she wasn’t all there. Like she didn’t belong here. It made him... confused.

He peered around the area and listened. Even if he wasn’t planning on taking what little change she was obviously carrying, staying in one place in the bazaar at night was definitely ill advised. “What's your name?” He even managed to get most of that out without staring at her wine.

Besides, he could always rob her later if things went South.

[Jischa]

She took his admission of harmlessness with a grain of salt; certainly he didn't look like a cutthroat, but ones that did were probably not very successful in their line of work. "Gereth.." she repeated the name, letting it roll off her tongue slowly, her eyes following his. The confusion written across his features was perplexing to say the least, but she set it aside for the time being. "Jischa, Jischa Va'el at your service." Dipping into a faint mockery of a curtsey, she smiled at the taller man, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Why she was here was uncertain, she'd felt compelled in this direction was a silly-sounding answer, and she was glad he hadn't asked. Besides, she was here now, and she didn't feel any overwhelming sense of purpose or accomplishment, so perhaps she'd been led here to him? Preposterous, and yet the thought brought a faint smile to her lips. "I've not seen you before, I don't think. What do you do here in Syliras?" A shadow moved to her left, and Jischa moved closer to Gereth, her smile tightening slightly. He might not have been an immediate threat, but that didn't mean that in the maze of tables and booths no other dangers lurked. "Walk with me, talk with me, Gereth." She slipped her arm through his, beginning to walk toward the bazaar entrance with the dark haired man in tow. With luck, she'd found her evening company. With even more luck, he'd be able to pay.

[Gereth]

When Jischa slipped an arm into his, Gereth nodded and began to move the pair of them into the wider areas of the bazaar. He’d felt her start at the, what he guessed was a barely seen (at least from her end) glimmer of a large rat darting past into one of the sewer grates. He walked at her pace only tugging her closer to avoid a puddle of dirty runoff water from the parapets which he supposed she couldn’t see or smell either. He was fond of the way she smelled, and the wine on her breath made her amusing, at least more so than a lot of the ladies who were so well dressed. “I am... I’ve lived here for most of my life and as for what I do..” He paused a moment and with just a tiny glance around the area and a quick sniff at the air, he had pulled a false flower made from cloth from a display, white to match her outfit, and tucked it behind her ear in what was a deceptively graceful motion. “I live here. Every minute of everyday. And I do... what I want. It confuses a lot of people honestly but there’s no better answer for it really.” He crinkled his nose at the smell of a produce stand as they walked further into the market. Their footsteps clinked against the cobbled walkways and even though the castle itself was all around them he felt... for the first time in a while interested in something other than drinking himself into a quiet oblivion. “And what is it that you do? You don’t seem like you are from here at all.”

[Jischa]

Jischa pondered his response that wasn't really a response at all. For all she knew he could be a baker or a wanted murderer. Of course, and she smiled at the thought, murderers probably didn't nick flowers. Reaching up briefly to adjust the white linen rose behind her ear, her hand brushed over his, and she quickly suppressed her curiousity as the contact was made. The Gift. Knowing at a touch what someone wanted most was less of a thrill than some might have thought; not everyone wished for untold riches or a glass of ale. Some desires were much deeper and some were in fact horrifying, made all the more obscene by the fact that they never knew she knew.. Drawing her hand away quickly before some unbidden thought of Gereth's could turn her against him, she turned and began to walk backward in front of him, twirling once before falling into step again, her gay and agile movements doing much to clear the dim thoughts from her mind. "I keep others company," she informed him. "For a feather's weight in gold, I do..whatever one wants." She looked up at him with a wink. She'd grown fond of the little 'What do you do for a living?' game, trying to anticipate someone's reaction to the news that she was, at some basic level, a whore. "I work at the Golden Dragon, ever been?" She was a relatively new resident in the city, so she could never assume that just because she'd never seen someone, they'd never crossed the inn's threshold. "It's really nice, and really warm. You know, unlike this." She rubbed her arms ruefully. "It didn't feel this cold when I wandered outside." Her wine glass empty by now, she twirled it in her fingertips as they wandered the emptier and emptier bazaar. "I'm just so used to it being nice out always, back home.." She paused. "Back home, in Mura, it ah, it was usually warm." Steering their path toward the exit and the city street, Jischa kept her hand in the crook of Gereth's arm, pointedly ignoring the suspicious sounds in the darkened corners.

[Gereth]

A whore. For a service that most people seemed to use at one point or another they were always trying to think of newer and more flowery ways of putting it. Gereth didn’t share the moral compunction against selling a service that some people did nor did the knowing make him feel as though she was worth any less. She had a way with words and remained happy, at least as far as he could tell, with her life so that by default took her off of the main reason he disliked most humans. She did what she had to do to survive. He could respect that... and she was beautiful. He had heard stories sometimes of people doing great things for beautiful women and had even felt that way before sometimes.. but not for a long time. A feather’s weight in gold... He let the thought roll around in his mind for a moment. Since the master died he had been without any kind of carnal companionship. The thought wasn’t entirely unpleasant but he still couldn’t deny that storm rising within him and he had certainly felt it when she pulled her hand away from his. Perhaps she was being coy. Her little twirl and even the way she walked seemed like she was more than able to ease some of his burden. A feather’s weight indeed. The small pale woman rubbed her arms and kept hers crooked in his. He could only think of one thing to warm him just a few minutes before and now other... more pleasant thoughts were crossing his mind than drinking until he forgot. “I have been to the Golden Dragon, yes. He spoke softly as the pair wound their way out of the Bazaar and onto the cobble street. Some people were still milling about and they would be until much later. “Thankfully, I’m told that the winters here are very mild compared to other places. It would be a shame to see you... wilt. You’re much too beautiful to go to waste in a harsh winter.” Gereth had heard her voice change, the tiny tremor to it, he doubted she even heard it when she mentioned it but still he was curious. “Tell me of Mura? He wasn’t thinking of robbing her any longer at least.