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[Belinda]

46th day, winter, 515 av
18th bell
Rearing Stallion

She had managed to arrange to be the entertainment for the Rearing Stallion. She kept her cloak well closed and scurried towards the tavern as quickly as she could. God’s preserve it was insanely cold. The raven haired woman arrived early to take a look before it had gotten too full. She wanted to get acclimated and get herself warmed up. Once inside she rubbed her hands and greeted the owner with a wave. She ordered an ale and sat down to take a good look around at the clientele.

They spoke in low tones and since she hadn’t taken her hood off, they paid her little mnd. That was perfect. She took a good drink of the ale after paying for it. A finger traced the rim of the mug in between drinks. One drink would get the chill out of her bones and loosen things up nicely. It was decent ale and she had to give the owner another nod. The woman had chosen nicely. Those grey eyes spotted the musicians in the corner so she moved over towards them to have a word. Her movements were graceful as she introduced herself quietly to the musicians. After some light conversation which made her laugh, she inquired as to the music they played and worked out dancing music which they were more than accommodating. They were funny, too.

When it came time, the cloak slipped off of her shoulders revealing the brilliant cobalt blue silks beneath that exposed quite a bit of skin. Her hands went through her waist long raven blue black hair into place. The girl bent at the waist most purposefully arching her behind just slightly as she took her shoes off and put them to the side. She suddenly spun to the side an cocked a knee. Her hand came up and slapped together loudly once. Her hip snapped to the side. Her hands slapped together sharply again as a smile came to her face and her eyes scanned the crowd.

The sharp staccato of the hands made a rhythm as her hips snapped with each beat as the musicians took up the beat and then purposely slowed with the convoluted tenor pipe that wove a seductive melody. The hands artfully curled up as her neck arched back. The convoluted tenor pipe made a trail with her hand as the fluer of the hand made a trail from neck that ponderously trailed between the full bosom and down to the shaped exposed midriff. It was then her abdomen moved on its own without moving any other part of her body. When the tenor pipe had finished its telling, her movements changed as her shoulders popped side to side with the beat of the tambourine.

The hips moved in a precise undulation as she moved with the beat as it started to pick up. The eyes in the tavern were on this beauty as she moved ever closer to the ones closest to her dancing. Moving to the side as the snapping hips made tiny little figure eights right in the man’s face. The man was sweating as she turned and bent down and bestowed a little kiss on his bald head. She walked and snapped the hips a couple of feet away as the man looked to about pass out. The woman then encouraged the men to clap their hands with the music as her dancing continued to draw the eye and entice the senses.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

A cold day. Frigid even. It had been that way since the eighth bell of the morning light. Alex as usual had arisen early. Encased in chain and plate he stepped into the morning light bold and proud. Or at least that’s what he would have liked. With a few incidents as of late not the least of which the small parcels’ he’d received both containing a small icon of his mothers. Alex sighed stepping out into the frozen air. The wind smacked him in the face and his eyes narrowed at the glaring white of the snows on rooftops. He stepped into the frozen courtyard the grass cracking beneath his feet. He exhaled slowly watching a white wisp of breath spiral off into the sky. Coated in a veritable cascade of blades and weapons he marched through to the Anthonius training grounds where he was want to spend most of the day. The clang of blades rang out over the roof tops as again and again Alex got his arse handed to him. Still he rose. He always got back up. He’d never stay on the ground unless he was knocked from consciousness. Not out of hatred but of a burning desire to get better. To protect those who he couldn’t. And apologize to those whom he’d failed in the past.

He rose again from the ground the clatter of steel around him as his did so.
“I’m not staying down until I can’t stand.” He spoke with a grit to his soft voice something belying his short years. A feeling of failure echoing throughout him. Something about this day irked him. It was similar to something that had happened in his past. Though it wasn’t the same date. He clenched his hand around the handle of the sword and charged the weaponmaster bringing the blade across and swinging at his torso only to have it parried and then feel a sharp thump on the back of his head.
“Boy…You got spirit. I’ll give ya that but your blade work is shyke.” The last words he heard before he faded from consciousness.

Alex watched the day begin to fade into vision as he lay on the bench slowly coming to consciousness. His head and body stung, the brief sleep echoed the myriad of bruises littering him. He heaved out a breath. His weapons pinning him along with his armour to the bench, he could feel the strength slowly flowing back into his limbs and body. But for the moment he was left with the turmoil and chaotic mire of his thoughts. The horrors of his past. And the atonement that his future needed.

Eventually he rocked to his feet, wobbling lightly as he stepped down the staircase gripping the railing tightly in case he should fall. A cloud hung over him. Something that he wished wasn’t there. Alex wobbled through the streets the darkness of the evening now having settled in and was there to stay. The familiar joviality of the rearing stallion came into view, the music hitting his ears. And for the first time through-out the whole day his mood lifted a little. He came up to the tavern door. Pushing it in he heard the sound of music not what he was usually akin too, and felt the glorious blast of heat from the hearth hit his face. A heavy sigh escaped him as he stepped up to the bar. Slamming a miza onto the counter he just nodded and Kevith handed him a mug of ale. Without even pausing he took a long slow drag of the ale.

Slamming the mug onto the bar counter he eventually flicked his eyes over to the raised dais of the stage. He caught the beauty on stage, dancing well and attracting the attention of a few less than sober patrons. Lucky guy. He smirked lightly as he watched her point her attentions to one bald man who seemed a little too happy with the circumstance. He caught the tint of red in the guy’s face not from flush but from drink. Still her…motions weren’t exactly helping him keep his focus. He watched him briefly sway from side to side.

Alex tried to look away and for a few moments each time succeeded, but always found his eyes swaying back to the dais and the dancer. Something captivating about her. Alex found himself sub consciously smirking, and the dark cloud over his head seemed to dissipate a little as he found himself once more the man he was used to being. Still though he managed to pry his eyes away and found himself looking into the ale. Something was on his mind, something he wouldn’t ever get out nor share. Suddenly the sound of clapping filled the room. Alex smirked again and watched the others clap his arms still planted on the bar top.

“Kevith. Who’s the dancer?” Alex inquired.
“New woman. Arrived in town a couple of days ago. Asked to work here for the time. She’d doing her bit and judging by the faces around here. Doing it damn well.” Kevith smiled beneath the white beard on his face. Well…She knows how to captivate an audience at least.

[Belinda]

She enjoyed the participation it meant that she was doing exactly what she was supposed to do. Her hands went out as the musicians stopped. One of the musicians had a tambourine. It would shimmy the tambourine as he worked in in a slow big circle. The girl’s chest shimmied, but just the chest. Her arms were out to the side held there. The shimmy moved to her hips but her shoulders didn’t move as her hips moved in rapid shimmy of the tambourine. She slowly walked with this shimmy and suddenly stopped.

The music livened up and started to play faster and faster. She spun around as her skirt lifted up till suddenly she dropped down on all knees arched way back with her arm extended into the air. That was the end of this song set. The applause was nice and hearty as she got up and took her bows. She did need a drink. Those hips moved in a figure eight as she made her way to the bar as the musicians also took breaks. “Hey Kevith. If I could have an ale, please. “ She said in her smokey sultry voice.

The owner smiled as he put the ale down before her and her eyes trailed over someone way too over armed and armored for the tavern and guessed he had something to do with the citadel. She took a long drink from the mug. Most men would be afraid to approach the beauty. Those inebriated enough would come up to wrap and arm around her and pull. The agile woman would deftly duck and weave as it was a simple grab wrist and turn slightly. It didn’t hurt but it would get them in a position to push away. Men drunk didn’t perform well anyway. It would be a waste of her time entirely. Kevith then saw to it that she had her space. Good man. “Thanks Kevith.”

The man nodded to her. “No problem. Next set should be in about fifteen chimes or so.”

The woman nodded as she enjoyed her drink while letting her muscles settle. She was not in the least bit ashamed of standing there in nothing but thin silk that coverd the necessities and a silk skirt that hid nothing but accented a great deal. The woman’s steel grey eyes turned to see the armored one. Her smile was liquid gold as the steel grey eyes was like holding hot steel. “Hello there, “ With a lift of her mug.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

At the corner of the bar his back next to the hearth as he was want to be. Alex heard the tempo picking up the loud shakes of the cymbals on the tambourine. He caught the end of her dance the shakes and shimmies, the rocking motions. Only out of the corner of his eyes. The side of his face with the sharp looking J shaped scar on it towards her. He lifted the Ale again as her dance finished. The tavern erupting into a loud swathe of applause and approval. A few loud wolf whistles amongst the tavern crowd. A smooth practiced walk almost as if she was dancing as she walked to the bar. Alex smirked and chuckled a bit into the mug as he caught her voice. Subtle, understated, but earthy, a tone that spoke of power. Not command but control. Not by fear but by desire. Something that tugged on a strong part of what was Alex’s male being. He took a deep breath inhaling the fumes of the ale and calming himself once again. His free hand pulling the loop of Symbols from his armour again as he softly rolled the symbol of Wysar, the purple flame in his fingers. Praying to be disciplined enough to resist.

Still he caught her dodging the advances of some of the lesser composed patrons. A simple motion here and there but enough to avoid the unwanted advances. It lasted for but three tries before Kevith glared at them and they got the hint. Either they stayed back or no more liquor. Even informing her of the time between the sets. A quarter bell. Not much but enough time to pause. He could see the tautness in her form. She’d practiced her craft as well as, if not better than he practiced his sword play. She was hones to her craft, her figure and form spoke to that. And the fact that she wasn’t the least bit effected by what she was wearing. Sheer material thin and wispy covering nothing but the bare essentials. A small creep of colour came into Alex’s face as he held a prolonged look. Then he then caught a glance at him. Steely grey eyes, gleaming like sharpened blades in the morning synalight. And then the words that commanding voice aimed at him. Two words and his attention was hers.

He smiled softly, and spoke. His usual light and soft voice rolling form him with practiced control and elegance. But there was an edge of embarrassment to it. “Pleasure. I caught your dancing on the dais. I must say you had a…Profound effect on the patrons here. I doubt many have ever witnessed much alike.” A soft nod and a small drink form his mug. His fingers crawled across the loop again picking up the watchtower of priskil, and the wings of yahal now. He was trying to calm himself and hoped that calling on the gods of vigilance and purity might aid him in keeping up his integrity.

[Belinda]

There was something to his voice. She was used to rough callous voices of men with pent up frustration from their daily lives. They drink, they partake companionship rather married or not and they rough housed. That was the life she knew well. Yet here is this calm and cultured voice. The last cultured voice she heard was her fathers. Her smile held there as he responded. “Tis part of the service. “

That was her answer? The woman chided herself a little bit. He kept reaching for something but was unsure what it was. The scar on his face did not go unnoticed. It was just she sees a lot of scars both mental and physical. “People need something to forget things for a short time. My dance provides that. The weave of fantasy and believing that they are a part of that helps people forget their troubles and makes them smile.” That was better. The woman watched the stiffened actions of how his arm moved with the ale mug. “For instance, your sore. I would wager a hard day of knighting or soldiering or whatever you do. “ She had turned her back towards the bar. Both elbows where up on the bar as she leaned back. Her taut and toned abdomen was in full display as she looked forward. “ Yet you was able to forget for a few ticks even a few chimes. In that, it was completely worth the Dance.”

The raven head turned to regard the squire’s eyes looking at them dead on in a direct fashion. His soothing voice was still in her ear. “You’re a little bit heavily armed for the Tavern.” The woman pointed out to take away her attention to his voice. “what is it you do around here?” The question was a neutral one as she reached back arching slightly to get her ale and take a drink from it. She drank as one who is used to it.

She looked at the knight again as she got a wicked little smile on her face as she looked at the distance between the dais and the bar. The musicians having gotten back into place she moved towards them and whispered into their ear. She got up on the dais and stretched her shoulders a little as she brought one arm and put it back behind her and gently pulled back with the elbow. The other arm was bent similar and bent back gently to stretch. The neck was slowly rotated as her fingers went into that raven hair to feather it loose and it fell in place on her back as if it was designed to fall in the black waves it displayed. Her knee cocked up and her hand went gently up as she arched her back and waited.

The music started melodic and haunting. A slow melody that was tugged at the soul. The hand flared and twirled as it came down and would draw a line from her breast down to her nether regions painstakingly slowly. The cocked knee would move as she pointed her toe and curl it before her, before that foot would slowly rise up and up till it was parallel to her ear. She pressed her ear to the leg as her hand caressed it up and down with the music. The drama of the music would have her leg curling back behind her as she spun in a magical turn before her body was in full arch to the ground. Her body turned horizontal and turned on the ground to lift her body up by the abdomen before curling her abdomen in those precise movements that marked her dance as unique.

She walked down the hearth row as the turn of her hip would accent each step. Each step had an isolated movement of an arm the chest the neck. The sheen of sweat on her was forming as she stopped in front of the squire. Her abdomen would pop in three locations individually as her hand would trace a delicate C from temple to jaw before spinning brushing her hair against his armor. The girl gave a little time to this patron or that with an isolated movement that brought a blush to the cheeks of the inexperienced and the direct gaze of interest to the seasoned.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Her voice flowed, rhythmed and flittered through the air just like a dancing trail of smoke just like she moved. A cascade of words that whether short or long had an impact. People needed something to forget things. How he knew that…How he dwelled on that thought. She did what she did to provide people a brief reprieve from the woes and strife that dragged them down. The darker parts of their soul that they’d never be able to whiten or clean. It was a distraction. And on most it worked wonders. Him too, but to a dulled effect slightly. He could see a small confidence in her smirk as she spoke. She was right he was sore. He was in pain, but more ails than just of the body. He was a young man exposed to a life he’d hoped never to see. He’d hoped to never have to participate in. But i did...didn't I? And i'm still regretting it...

He caught the motion of her stretching her back, the arcing of her body, the tone of her muscles the sheen on her skin. He caught it all whether on purpose or not he didn’t know. His attention snapped back like a bow sting. Was he able to forget? Would he ever be? He exhaled slowly feeling the colour begin to drain from his face the red fading down to his natural hue. Her eyes then met his a clash of grey and green. He was a little heavily armed for the tavern? He smirked and then heard her ask what he did. A small smile spread across his lips. “I’m a squire. Albeit not a very good one. The weapons are because I found myself coming straight here from training. Almost instinctually.” The mellow tones of his voice a direct contrast to her own. His were calm and collected as best he could get, given present circumstance. He didn’t carry command with it, nor control it spoke of a man who knew how to guard himself how to control his actions. Guard his mannerisms. Yet it spoke of inexperience. He was young. He’d stared into the abyss. And a piece of it had clung to him.

Out of the subtle under toned conversation came a wicked smile. Something that spoke of a plan, he’d seen a smile like that before but this one was not hiding mal-intent, rather it was closer to playful. He cocked his head to the side as she slid away almost gliding across the floor to the dais. She paused in front of the musicians, lingering a moment before stepping up onto the platform. She assumed an odd pose. Alex pulled to look away yet his body resisted his minds wants. His fingers tightened on the loop of symbols. With a sudden tug, her hair tumbled falling and falling until it reached her waist. The cascade like that of a waterfall, yet instead of the clear blue water this one was of raven midnight. Alex...Focus, your not supposed to be doing this.

Her knee raised and her back curled. Every motion Alex caught he couldn’t pry his eyes from her try as he might, his mind fought with him but his body seemed unable or unwilling to move. Was this some form of magic? A sorcery? Then the music kicked in. The slow rhythm, creeping and ominous willing itself more vibrant with each beat. He watched each motion, the trail of her hand, and the agonizingly slow crawl down her torso. Her leg stretched up and up. Her ear pressed into the calf of her raise leg. Alex blinked hard, trying to tear his eyes away but he was entranced, ensorcelled. She curled her torso up from the floor and lifted her body by her midriff before rising from the floor again.

The same practised walk followed her as she stepped down from the stage. A small roll of her hips with each motion. Her upper torso complimenting each step, she crossed the tavern floor slow calibrated steps. Light yet resolute in purpose. She passed through the crowd of rowdy and riled onlookers. She stopped in front of him, of all the patrons in this place she chose him. His eyes transfixed on her though. The tip of her finger brushed his face curling around his face and leaving his jaw with a flick of motion. Her hair cascaded across the dented and miss-fitting plate. A roar of colour burned his face now as he could do nothing. His fingers without any control of his own moved to the red chain on his loop. And that was when he felt it. Cold. Hard. Stabbing. The gazes of the patrons. The jealously, the seething hatred that it was him and not them.

He felt it but he couldn’t do anything about it. He exhaled slowly his chest heaving as he did so. Shoulders falling and a spark of tension that had filled his spine released. He loosed his grip on the ale and had to force his hand to not reach out and touch her with all his might. The light of the torches caught in his eyes as they flickered with interest and intrigue. Something stirred within him. Eating at his reason. A slumbering beast that had long remained dormant.

[Belinda]

How well she knew that stirring. How well she knew the longing and wickedness of men. Within the arms of strangers that thought to claim a piece of her for a few mizas. It put bread on the table. It was also a useful skill. Within the soft arms of a woman, men often forget their promises and tell all kinds of secrets. She danced the edge of darkness and called it. The woman taunted darkness and the very denizens of it. She would seduce every single person in this room if it provided one bit of relief to those less fortunate. Here these poor people were the same and thus she would provide them with the a reason to forget for a time. To rest their heavy burdens both mental and physical for a brief moment and she gladly did this service.

The look in the squire’s eyes was darker than she thought for one so young. Well did she know the jealousy she could spark as she chose two other patrons to provide with a personal little wiggle and a whimsical little smile that she provided attention to those details. Her return to the dais was the return to the more spirited dance as her hips moved with rapid shift of her hips as that was all that moved was her hips. Her top torso did not move as her arms undulated in a separate movement than her hips. He eyes that tried to follow the movement of her hips she could feel. The woman was used to it. It was unfortunate she became a woman at a young age but that was the life she had. Her mother taught her how to time things to prevent other unpleasantness. Focus Belinda. The music stopped and as if by design so did her body in a statuesque pose.

The musicians started to play tavern music as they gave her another rest period. She stuck to the hearth side and close to keep her muscles warm. She was met by a couple of guardsmen that blocked her way. She tried to pass them with a pleasant smile as they stepped in her way again. “We know your kind. You don’t mean any good here.”

She seen that look before. The girl didn’t pay enough attention to them or perhaps jealous she paid the squire attention instead of the guard and decided to get an inferiority complex. “Look im just working to put food on the table like anyone else. I earn what I make.”

“You could earn it by scrubbing floors or getting a husband. Not being half naked. “ He said stiffly.

“I do private parties and if you give… “ Though she may not be sure Kevith would like that but she prickled at their accusations. Her wrist was grabbed by one of the guards.

“We should throw you out of Syliras. Your kind is why the world is as wicked as it is.” He snarled at her face.

“Is the wickedness in me or within your own soul. “ The girl hotly contended. Her heart started racing. She had no weapons either. Their stance was a little unbalanced. Maybe?

Kevith was yelling for them to stop but ale and frustration was a recipe to block common sense. His breath stank to as he brought her in closer. “your type are all alike. “ He might as well say that her beauty and talent made him uncomfortable so he was asserting authority to compensate.

“What exactly is my type? “ She said in his ear as she moved closer trying to distract him. Lovely, in the most protected city in Mizahar and there is no answer for jerks like this, yet it was what she was used to. The look in her eyes turned vaguely pained. She was unaware of the squire as she tried to step into his center of balance and turn to get his arm behind him. He jerked the right time and he winced as she was brought and slammed right against his armor.
“That’s resisting arrest.” He said with a grimace.

“What is my crime?” She demanded.

“Disturbing the peace. “ He said with some assurance.

The citizens in the Tavern offered some protest. Kevith was even a little put off by it as the girl really had done no wrong. Those grey eyes saw accusations as well as those who was on her side. This was not her first time in this kind of trouble. Her arm was behind her back. “What peace did I disturb? I was lawfully working here. “ She emphasized lawful.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

Alex paused, held. He wanted to reach out, to feel the warmth of another human. Another person…he wanted it so badly he could almost taste it. He just wanted to be near someone. As she drew away his hand rose after her. She pulled away from him, stepping back up onto the dais, the rolling of her hips pulled and tugged at his eyes. He wanted to look away he wanted to be better. He wanted to be a better man but he couldn’t he couldn’t move. And then as suddenly as it had begun it ended. She stood stark still like carved marble or sandstone. Graced and sanded smoothed and polished. Even the light sheen of perspiration added a kind of glow around her.

She pulled away from the stage now, pulling closer to the fire, evidently the lack of thick clothing in this frigid weather was something he’d forgotten in the malaise of his mind just watching. He paused a moment taking a drink from the ale in silence. And then it happened. Like it always did. The drunkards jealously the feeling of being snubbed. Two this time. Guards simply armed and armoured but both breathing alcohol by this point. He could smell it waft off them as they walked past him over to the fire. For the time being he didn’t move. He didn’t take a single muscle moment thinking that they’d see reason. What broke him out of the sedimentary state was the moment one grabbed her wrist. He rose from the bar. Giving Kevith a look. He was so used to dealing with drunkards. And so used to resolving problems between people that this was a familiar territory. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly settling his emotions beneath the surface. A simple feeling of…was that jealousy? He beat the emotion down. She wasn’t his she wasn’t anyone’s. She was her own person and Alex pushed that thought through his mind. He then felt a sudden thud against his back. The great sword and bow pushed into his back. He turned his head over his shoulder slowly to see her back against his armour.

With the continued accusations Alex could take no more. He turned around now stepping between her and the two guards. Alex put on a small smile and an unnerving calm seemed to emanate from him as he spoke. His words smooth and soft but somehow poisoned by anger. A belying fury that only those still mostly sober like himself and possibly Belinda could pick up. “Gents. I’m going to say this once. And once only. Back off. You’re both drunk, very much so. And you’re throwing your weight around. Now if you don’t want me to completely ruin your evening you’ll sit down. Be quiet. And leave the lady alone to do her work.” Alex towered over the pair by a good five or so inches. And over Belinda by a good seven by comparison.

He took a short glance over his shoulder at her to reassure her. If anyone was being tossed in jail tonight it was these clowns if they didn’t back down. His eyes skirted back to the two guards as he rested his hand on the hilt of the bastard sword at his hip, the sheer number of weapons over him alone was enough to intimidate people. But now he was calm. So unnervingly calm. Like eye of a tornado, tranquillity amidst the ever swirling chaos. “So lads. You gonna sit back down and enjoy another drink? Or am I going to have to toss you both in jail for abuse of power? And have you stripped of your jobs? At the very least.” Alex was one of the only squires in the city to have a patron that was at the rank of sergeant, and because of this his word carried a little more weight than most squires but still not quite as much as a full knights. They didn’t have to know that though. Please take option one...Please i don't want to spoil every-ones evening.

[Belinda]

The yeasty breath on her neck as he wanted a taste of that neck, those lips that body that spoke of unspoken treasures that he would never have. The guard wanted it all. The drunken stupor he was in had him raking in women and gold by the wagon load as the blood shot eyes and the purple veining of the nose spoke of long term heavy drinking. Just then the soothing cultured voice broke the rough and belligerence that sought advantage to gain something they don’t normally get.

The squire made a move. He, he was taking a stand? The hold on her tightened as the guards thought they had ownership or some reasoning that had no logic to it what so ever. There was no mistaking the subtlety of how he said and what he said. There was a momentary twinkle in her eye as she looked back at her and for the moment she had some assurance that all was well. He got in between them and the object of their scrutiny but there was something odd. Instead of a fight, there was a flicker of recognition of this squire the guards had.

Did the knights have that much sway over the people? Interesting. If they had that much sway, why didn’t they see to the poor in Mithryn Outpost. She rubbed her wrists absently to loosen them up. The guards back down and was asked to leave to sober up. The dancer was well aware of this type and she made a face. How long was that type likely to wait? She tapped her temple. Two bells perhaps maybe longer. The amount of alcohol she could smell on his breath and the cold frigid air that wakes a man a bit more sober till the alcohol kicked in again. Yes maybe two to three bells it would take for them to either pass out waiting or go home and pass out.

Once they had left she took a deep breath and exhaled. Her hand would go on his forearm to pull him around gently as she looked up into his eyes. His height was no deterrent to the directness she still held. “Thank you. That sort of thing happens a lot. “

Kevith was shaking his head as the musicians handed her the cloak and shoes back as she was done for the evening. She let Kevith know she was going to hang back for a while. “if there is one law in Mizahar, bastidges had brothers. “ She said under her breath as her ale was renewed.

The girl looked at the squire. “Hey there green eyes. You have a name?” She asked as the smile she had was a soft one. Her lithe form hopped on the bar and sat there with her legs dangling as she sipped her ale and waited for an answer. She had donned the cloak as her shoulders were feeling the chill but left it open to the front.

[Alexander Faircroft]

Description "Alex Common" Alex thoughts "Myrian" "Fratava" "Others"

The situation diffused, the powder keg that had been placed in front of him suddenly sputtered out. Thankfully the guards had seen reason and reason enough to back down. They gave him a stabbing look. He knew he’d earnt their ire but still there were a few things he’d never let slide. He held a fragment of power, the tiniest shred and he’d wield it as well as he could, be it as a scalpel or a sledgehammer. Whichever suited the situation best. This time he used the scalpel and it worked out as he’d hoped. The guards almost limped off licking their wounds, they knew he was right and that if they caused a stir there was a worse fate than what he’d do to them awaiting. He gave them a small nod as they retreated tail between their legs filtering outside to go and find another tavern. Good, go and find somewhere else to clear your heads...

Kevith sighed in the background one of relief. The loss of a couple of customers was better than the ruckus that a scuffle would cause. The whole event had transpired in a matter of ticks and that was all it took. Alex let the bravado and the calm fall as he shifted once again to find her slipping out from behind him, he felt a tug on his metal encased forearm. He whipped around with it and caught a long glance into those steely eyes. A word of thanks? His shoulders sank. “Don’t worry about it…Would that it weren’t the case that these things happened.” He gave a small smile the honesty and genuineness of it apparent. He did nothing which he wouldn’t have done for anyone else. He hated seeing people in situations that weren’t their fault.

He sat back down at the bar again as she wondered over to pick up her shoes and her cloak, the large thick cloth draped over her body. And with a short hop she landed on the bar. A small glance for Kevith and a slight shake of the head. Green eyes? She was talking to him again? He could see the chill working its way through her. He turned his head up after finishing another draught of ale and waving his hand over the empty cup, signalling no more. His voice flowed out once again calmer and more stable. “Alex. I’m Alexander Faircroft.” He paused a moment giving her a small nod to imitate a full-fledged bow. “And May I have the pleasure of your name miss?” He rested his elbow now on the bar top. Turning in his seat to face her. A softer look in his eyes like the wearing sof a difficult day had been washed away.