PM to join [Shooting Star Inn] What a Birthday

[Aimee Fabron]

35 Spring, 515
Early Evening
Heavy Rain

The Shooting Star Inn

Outside, the rain poured down in heavy drops. It was a tad disheartening for Aimèe to witness given the day was her birthday. What a birthday, she thought. The rain had struck suddenly after a clap of thunder that shook the sky. Lightening flared in the distance seconds before another crack rocked the heavens, sending deep vibrations on down to her on the ground. After that, the rain began to pour. It was as if Laviku himself was in the heavens, but she knew that it was Zulrav’s creation. The rain splattered against the wide window of the Shooting Star Inn. She had taken refuge within the inn to wait out the heaviness of the storm, though she was unsure if it would ever let up.

She sat in one of the white velvet draped tables, which was flanked on four sides by cushioned seats of extravagance. The water well for cleansing one’s hands sat in the middle directly before her. She was rather secluded despite being directly in the center of the inn’s dining floor. There were other patrons around her, but for the most part they left her alone. She did not know why, nor did it bother her. She was content with watching the storm through the far off window, the window sitting directly behind a long, velvet draped table hosting various dishes of appetizers, bowls of fruits, and baskets of bread.

The wind whirled around the building, only heard through the pane of the window and through the door when it opened to let in another soggy patron. There was a plate set in front of her, utensils on either side. The plate itself held a folded cloth napkin, clean, pristine, and white. The brightness of the cloth and napkin reminded her of the moon, of Leth, and his overarching domain of night. It seemed many things reminded her of her patron deity, the one she most readily aligned herself to. Aimèe was immensely devoted to the deity, grateful for his presence and guidance from the darkness that once overshadowed her only two years ago.

It was an odd thing being in that darkness and then having it suddenly illuminated gently by the moon’s calmly radiating presence. It was an odd thing, yet, at the same time, it was a comforting thing. It was cool but warm in all the same ways. She felt cradled by Leth, felt weightless in his arms, felt as if she could truly change and learn to enlighten herself much like his moonlit gaze did currently.

“Miss,” a voice came, gentle and soft.

She looked to her addresser, finding it to be a woman around her age, perhaps younger. She was the hostess and wore an apron atop her simple cream colored tunic. She held a plain beauty, her slightly untamed hair adding to the charm of a hardworking young woman.

Pressing a smile to the girl kindly, Aimèe said, “Yes?”

“I apologize for getting to you so late. You’re so quiet; I thought you had been taken care of. How may I help you?”

Aimèe waved her hand in delicate dismissal. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ve not decided anyhow. May I have a little more time?”

“Certainly, miss,” the hostess replied, a weak smile playing on her pink lips. She bowed her head and hastily moved from the table, going back to the kitchen where more dishes needed to be served no doubt.

It was early evening, sometime after the seventeenth bell but before the eighteenth. Aimèe had been looking for somewhere to treat herself. It was her birthday and she had no one to celebrate it with. She was celebrating alone, or trying to. She could not dwell on the memories of celebrations past with her parents. In order to keep her mind clear of the heaviness she focused on the lighter: it was her birthday, she was in a new city, one of knowledge, and she was more than ready to turn over a new leaf. Still, there in the back of her mind, the thoughts wallowed as she waited and thought on what she wanted to eat.

[Atticus Leslie]

OOCHey I apologize in advance; my muse has kinda left me today.

Atticus often enjoyed the sights of Zintia Peak when in a lull to put an end to his boredom. It always worked, without fail. He considered it impossible for his admiration of Lhavit to run dry. There was always something about the city Atticus hadn't seen before, whether it be a new business he hadn't noticed or just a nice niche he hadn't had the opportunity to explore yet where he could feel the wind better on his face or see farther over the ocean. There was nothing he could possibly grow tired of.

He loved the way Syna's rays reflected off the skyglass, making it seem like the god of radiant light walked the streets himself, blessing the streets with his presence. At night, regardless of weather, Leth's light made the buildings glow with an ethereal beauty Atticus previously believed to only belong to Zintila. Regardless of weather or conditions, it was always a nice walk. Even in this weather.

Atticus had left his apartment at the Solar Winds complex and begun walking the fair streets of Zintia Peak maybe five bells before the heavy rains had hit, battering down and beating the skyglass and stone city with great and seemingly unrelenting zeal. Its rage wasn't confined alone to the stones, but to Atticus as well, plastering his hair and clothes to his wiry frame and bathing him in the chilly waters. It shook him to the bone and broke his teeth as they chattered against each other, as he had forgotten to bring his coat. He figured he could stomach it for a while, so he did.

After a short while the rain drove the other denizens of Lhavit to their homes, leaving the roads pretty much barren. Atticus didn't mind at first. Sometimes it was nice to be by himself. He enjoyed the time and he enjoyed having the city to himself, which rarely ever happens at all if ever. So it was a nice change.

The rain, as of recent, had started to feel less comforting and more chilling. He had enjoyed it less and had begun subconsciously looking for places to wait out the storm, but unfortunately pickings were slim. Businesses were shut down and, though he wasn't quite sure, Atticus felt fairly certain most people were napping. He began to think running back to his home was the soundest option. Which would be awful.

But aha! Perfect! The Shooting Star Inn! He hadn't ever been inside but he knew it had to be open, right? It was an inn. They couldn't very well turn him away.

He strode towards the door quickly, careful not to run for fear of slipping. He burst through the doors, dripping with Laviku and Zulrav's combined wrath, but with a chipper smile. He made his way over to the closest seat, saving no time to enjoy his surroundings as he normally would have. He sat back in the bench and exhaled deeply before staring across the table to meet the eyes of a girl who had apparently been sitting here alone. He froze for a moment, his eyes as wide as plates and whiter than a Konti in a snowstorm, as he realized his mistake.

"Oh jeez," He whispered to himself. "Sorry! Sorry. So sorry. I'll go um... I'll go find another seat." He said, trying not too seem as nervous as he quite obviously was.

Oops.

[Aimee Fabron]

Rain, the occasional thunder, lightning, and wind battered the bluff and the inn Aimee was residing within. Her breathing was vaguely in sync with the whirling winds. Each time rain was thrown against the window she inhaled, each time the door bristled against the hinges she exhaled. Her thoughts were rather light but she was far from the present. Around her she observed the various patrons of the inn. Some were coming down from their rooms, others were renting rooms to wait out the storm. She wondered if she would do the same despite having residence within the Solar Winds complex. The rain came fierce and fast. She wondered if it would leave all the same or if it would remain lingering over the city in an oppressive way. She also wondered if it would let up, it’s ferocity coming in waves with occasional laxes between.

Either way, she didn’t hold her breath to the possibilities. Instead she tried to focus on her thoughts and the reasons for them. So far no-one had approached her aside from the hostess and she seemed put off by Aimee’s refusal of service, at least for the moment. Perhaps it was her quiet intensity or it was that no one was truly paying attention to her. It was an odd change given the city she had come from, Zeltiva. A place where attention was plentiful and life was lively in almost every sense of the word. She missed her home, but the trip was well worth it, she thought. Turning over a new leaf was worth it.

The door chimed again, her sights being drawn to the new soaking patron. He was a man, or rather a teen of tall stature. She could tell as much by the litheness of his frame. A man grown would have more muscle and weight on their bones, would they not? Aimee thought so. Her keen eyesight detailed out his features as he assessed the room. The rain had taken him fully and his hair, a darkness of brown flecked with bits of blond, was lazy atop his head. The mop was soaked with rain much like his clothes. She wondered how much he weighed given he was sopping wet. He had heavy brows as well, much heavier than Aimee’s own. In fact, the brown of his hair was darker than her own as well. She was sure it was the weight of the water within his strands that was darkening his locks, but right now the blond did little to aid against that, especially in the dimness of light. The candles and hearth could only do so much to light the room.

The boy looked in her direction but their eyes did not meet. Aimee wasn’t wearing anything that would draw attention to her. She sat at the white table in the pale wood seat atop the white cushion in a faded red dress of simpleness. Jewelry wasn’t worn on her but in the seat to her right was a satchel. The boy moved, her sights flickering away from him back to the window where rain lashed against the glass. She tried to recapture her calm trance but again it was interrupted by another noise. This noise was the chair opposite of her moving to accommodate a new body.

Her eyes fell onto that new body and it was the young man again. This time she could see his face clearer and saw the bumps and blemishes across his skin. She remembered her own woes with the blemishes when she was younger. Thankfully it had all passed and now her skin was clear and her creamy tan complexion unhindered.

His eyes met hers and they went wide. He sputtered an apology after muttering something under his breath. By the way his lips moved she assumed it was a curse to himself, but she was unsure. His reaction made her smile. It was a funny thing, and that smile turned into an airy chuckle, light and full of breath.

“It’s okay,” she said, waving for him to sit back down. “I’m sure the staff would appreciate if you stayed in place, especially since you’re wet.” She looked at him with eyes the color of dark honey. There was kindness in them for him, showing she wasn’t bothered by his sudden appearance. He wasn’t interrupting anything after all, thus she had no problem with him.

“You got stuck out there, did you?” she questioned with a slow raise of a brow. “Luckily I escaped before the storm came. You should dry off quickly in here. Just don’t go wetting up everything.” She smiled to him, her lips spreading the warmth out over her face. The inn was warm, both the kitchen and hearth, candles too, given off heat that would eventually dry him. “You could probably get a towel from one of the waitresses.”

[Atticus Leslie]

Atticus dripped onto the chair, frozen in place and not sure of what to do. Everything up until now had been such a rush, he barely had time to comprehend his surroundings. Now thought, things seemed to have calmed down. He could plainly observe, and it was nice for a moment. He had never been inside this inn despite all of his years in Lhavit. It was a little upscale for what Atticus would typically describe as a comfortable setting, but it was nice for the moment. The walls were beautifully carved large, rounded pillars and adorned with bright stars, which put Atticus at ease and pleased him to see. The scenery was gorgeous as well, the white clothed tables adorned with what appeared to be velvet, which Atticus admired but was in no way surprised about. It all seemed rather fancy, including the patrons, who were dressed in nice clothes and made Atticus a little ashamed of his rags.

In fact, considering the circumstance, there was a lot Atticus should be ashamed of. He seemed raggedy in comparison, he seemed like he belonged in slums. He seemed lower. For the first time, Atticus realized that, in the grander scheme of all things, he was closer to poverty than most would like to be in Lhavit. He wore the same clothes nearly everyday, he appeared oily and disheveled on a daily basis, and generally didn't seem to be a desirable one to interact with compared to the folks that made themselves apparent here, including the girl sitting across from him. She was rather appealing, and if Atticus were in his right mind he would have noticed more accurately the exact predicament he found himself in.

She seemed delicate, like a piece of art. Her skin had the color of gently churned honey, and was just as sweet to look at. Her features, delicate as they were, seemed weathered, as if they had endured. Not scarred, but strong. Particularly her eyes, which had reflected a wisdom the young boy could only remember seeing in the eyes of his father, which made the child immediately respect the young woman, regardless of what she had been through. She seemed distraught as well. Perhaps not entirely due to the fact that she was sitting alone in the inn when Atticus arrived. It seemed nearly inherent with her, which tugged at something within the young stargazer. It made him want to stay. He knew he was nothing of a caretaker, and he knew he couldn't do much to help her, but anything would help.

He shook himself. This was ridiculous. He was already considering helping this lass when he didn't actually know for sure if she was actually upset. Absolutely, truly ridiculous.

Atticus, awkwardly frozen in his spot, dripped slowly onto the floor and the pillow beneath him. He felt like a heathen and a slob. Which was new. He didn't much like it, to be quite honest.

"It's okay," She said, her voice as smooth as her skin and as calm as her hair. When she spoke Atticus felt envy towards her clarity of word, despite everything she seemed confident in herself and in her speech, which is something Atticus desperately wished for. I'm sure the staff would appreciate if you stayed in place, especially since you're wet." She said again, glancing over him with sweet auburn eyes.

Atticus cleared his throat, still suspended above his seat. He removed the pillow, which seemed much too expensive to muddy, and placed it delicately on the ground before sitting in the chair across from this perfect stranger that had seemingly entranced Atticus even before introduction. He sat with his hands in his lap. nervously wringing his fingers, trying to make himself seem as small as he could, almost to reflect how he felt. He managed a curt nod in the young woman's direction, as well, too shy to make prolonged eye contact.

"You got stuck out there, did you? Luckily I escaped before the storm came. You should dry off quickly in here. Just don't go wetting up everything. You could probably get a towel from one of the waitresses." She said, exhibiting perhaps the most beautiful smile Atticus had seen in a very long time, which did nothing to put the young stargazer at ease.

"I was um... I was out there on purpose. I just got cold." He choked out. He removed his coat, turned it inside out, and wrapped it around himself to prevent himself from dripping too profusely on the floor and making a job for the poor staff.

He shuffled in his seat a little bit, trying not to make it quite apparent that this wasn't the kind of environment he was typically comfortable in and of course failing. He wouldn't call over staff, he could barely speak as is, but he would most likely dry somewhat quickly. Or, at least, by the time the storm subsided.

He supposed he should make conversation. She was nice enough to allow him to sit with her, after all. He cleared his throat again, summoning the courage to look at her as he spoke. "Do you um..." He poked his hand out from the folds of his jacket, motioning to the room as a whole. "Do you live here? I wouldn't be surprised much. This place is so... Pretty. And you're so..." He stopped, laughing nervously. "You know... I guess..." He coughed, and blushed from the scene in general, not sure as to why he was acting like this. He wasn't attracted to her emotionally, and he knew he wasn't, so he wasn't sure why he was tripping over himself. He figured it might be simply that she intimidated him by nature. She seemed so... Crafted. She seemed like someone had poured passion and love into one piece of art over an untold number of years and when he had finally completed it, she had walked off the canvas only to scare Atticus. He wasn't quite sure how to act.

So he just acted nervous.

[Aimee Fabron]

The young man seemed rather flustered with her presence. She was curious, watching as he moved the pillow from underneath him to lay on the floor. His hands were in his lap, and it appeared like he was shrinking there before her very eyes. His own eyes, brown as they were, held an attentiveness to her. He firmly nodded his head at her words, heeding them like a child caught by their elder. Though her smile remained, it widened enough to show the whiteness of her teeth. A small laugh came through her nose, one that showed the humor she found in the situation. She did feel bad though; the boy was rather uneasy about the whole thing. She wondered why.

He spoke to answer her question, saying he was out in the rain on purpose. He got cold and that was why he sought shelter. She thought it peculiar, really. Why would someone want to be in the rain on purpose, she wondered. In Zeltiva when the storms came people sought shelter almost immediately, not for fear of getting wet, but because the storms could be rather destructive.

He wrapped himself in his coat and shifted in the seat. There was clear discomfort in him. She wanted to remedy that, but how was she supposed to? She knew nothing about the boy, therefore knew nothing of what he thought comfortable. All she knew was that this place was apparently not one of the things that brought him comfort. She glanced around the room. They were in the middle of the inn but no one was paying them any attention. The few eyes that followed the sopping wet boy to his seat had begun to mind their own business, leaving the boy unbothered.

He clear his throat, bringing her attention back to him. His mouth opened to speak, thin chest rising to draw in the breath to say the words. When the words did come they came in hesitancy and tentativeness. He motioned to the room, asking if she lived there. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she did, saying that the place was pretty and then alluding clumsily that she was pretty as well. At least, it was what she thought he was going to say.

He didn’t appear to be the stablest of people, given his thinness, but apparently his own voice was unsurely footed as well. It was a bizarre thing. She had not met many people who couldn’t formulate words clearly because of her. That was the reason for his unease, right? She was intimidating him unintentionally, or so she believed. There was blush on his pale, cold flushed faceto tell her as much. There was no need for embarrassment, she thought.

“I don’t live here,” she stated as calmly as she could. “I came here before it started to rain. I saw the clouds, and in Zeltiva it meant it was going to rain. It was going to storm, rather.” She looked to the window she previously had been looking out of. “Sure enough, it’s storming.” She gestured vaguely to the window, noting the flash of lightning that illuminated the pane for a brief instance.

She looked back to the boy, honey eyes glossing over his wet hair then landing on the tip of his nose. They continued to drift downwards over his being. His clothes looked rather disheveled and distressed, old, worn out. It was clear they were cut from different cloths, and Aimèe was of the better fabric. Quite fresh off the boat, she didn’t know what she was supposed to expect from Lhavit. It wasn’t this, that much was for sure. That said, she wasn’t looking down on the boy because of his appearance, she simply wasn’t being enlightened as much as she thought she was supposed to be. Perhaps she wasn’t looking in the right places? Maybe the boy could help? He couldn’t help with his poor attempts at conversation though. First, he needed to be comfortable.

She looked around the room quickly, sable strands waving about as she did so, sending the aroma of floral oils into the air. When she spied a hostess she raised her hand and called out. “Excuse me, miss,” she said, her gentle voice carried across the room. The waitress made a beeline for the pair at the center table and gave the boy a onceover before tending to Aimèe specifically. “Could we have a towel for my friend here? That, and two cups of tea, fresh if you have it.” When the waitress went off Aimèe turned back to the boy across from her, smiling still.

“I just arrived here not too long ago, actually,” she said. “I’m from Zeltiva originally. Right now I live in the Solar Winds Apartments.” She figured she would actually continue the conversation too. Maybe if the boy saw that she herself was comfortable, he would loosen up some as well. There was no doubt in her mind that the cold was making him rigid alongside her presence. Atop it all was the room and its occupants.

“My name’s Aimèe,” she continued. “Have you lived in Lhavit long? I take it you're a native here, right?” The more she spoke the clearer her accent became. To even the weakest ear it was obvious she wasn’t a native to the city on the bluffs. There was a twang telling of her southern origin, something like a refined sailor. The musings of cosmetics played her features; her eyes were sharpened by a thin amount of eyeliner, the apples of her cheeks were graced by the delicate pinkness of crushed red flowers, and her lips were adorned by a reddish lip pomade. Nothing about was meant to be extreme, but soft and soothing to compliment other features about her.

oocSorry about the length. It's longer than I intended. I got a little too into the flow.

[Atticus Leslie]

He didn't fully understand his own apparent disposition towards the girl, which irritated him almost as thoroughly as the embarrassment rattled him. If there was anything more irritating than ignorance towards something apparent to someone else, Atticus hadn't heard of it, and he certainly hadn't experienced it. Luckily for him, the girl didn't seem at all bothered by his outward appearance or action, which was relieving. He couldn't tell if she was attempting openly to ignore his actions or if she had genuine apathy for him. He assumed she knew. She seemed attentive. Attentive enough, at least, to keep her focus on him, though considering the unfortunate situation Atticus had found himself in, he wouldn't be surprised if attention, negative or otherwise, could be found in more than fair amounts.

"I don't live here," She stated, plainly and calmly, lacking the honey and sugar tone she had given herself earlier. Perhaps her living condition was something that gave her the grief Atticus had assumed of her earlier? "I came here before it started to rain. I saw the clouds, and in Zeltiva it meant it was going to rain."

Zeltiva... He thought. He had heard the name in passing on occasion, but didn't know anything on extent about the city. He knew it was far away, in Sylira. That's where all the people come from here. Well, there and Alvadas. Maybe Wind Reach, but that was much rarer.

She looked of age to live on her own, or at least get a meal for herself, but Atticus couldn't help but wonder absently whether or not she traveled with family, or any other kind of companion. It could be reason for her downtrodden gaze. Or perhaps lost someone along the way? It wouldn't be unheard of.

Atticus, attempting to control himself a little more thoroughly now, offered another nod, a little less hesitant than the last. He was in no way becoming comfortable with the situation at hand, but he was moreso comfortable than when he had sat down initially. The rain outside seemed only to intensify and a brief flash of lightning flashed, illuminating the entire room with an eerie, static light.

"Sure enough, it's storming."

Atticus, lost in his own thoughts and attempting to escape the encounter by escaping into himself, had disassociated, in a minor way, from the situation at hand. He wasn't contemplating anything in particular, other than the best way to overcome his own actions, but had come up with no viable options. The only one that may have worked was leaving...

He glanced at the storm outside, touching his hands together and caressing his own frigid flesh lightly, shivering once more.

Leaving wasn't an option.

He snapped to attention when the girl, kind as could be called over the resident hostess and requested a towel for Atticus. An unnecessary gesture, but an appreciated one. Atticus smiled bashfully in her direction, a weak 'thank you' for her efforts.

"I just arrived here not too long ago, actually, I'm from Zeltiva originally. Right now I live in the Solar Winds Apartments." She had said, which had gained his attention.

"I um... I live there too. I don't think I've seen you before. I guess it's because I'm not home very often." He nodded, his words coming out clearer than they had earlier but choppy and hesitant nonetheless.

"My name's Aimee,"

Aimee. That's a nice name.

"Have you lived in Lhavit long? I take it you're a native here, right?" She continued, as Atticus just begun to notice a somewhat subtle twang to her words. He wondered absently if that's what people in Zeltiva spoke like.

He cleared his throat once more, opening himself up just a little bit but still refusing to get comfortable in his chair. "Yeah... I haven't been anywhere else, I don't think. My parents never told me. They were sailors... Mostly. I don't know where I was born. I think it was here. I wouldn't be surprised."

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, suddenly all the more aware of his own aesthetic flaws compared to Aimee's appearance. His blemished and bumpy skin, his disheveled and mildly oily hair, the way he spoke with limited caution and choppy deliverance. It broke him a little on the inside to view himself as inferior. But he was stuck here with Aimee. At least until the storm subsided.

"What do you do for work?" He coughed out, obviously trying to initiate smalltalk. He hoped to the stars above and the goddess who laid dominion over them that he would regain control of himself soon, before making an absolute fool of himself.

[Aimee Fabron]

Aimèe nodded, smiling some at Atticus’ revelation that he lived in the Solar Winds Apartment Complex as well. He said that she probably hadn’t seen him because he was rarely at home. It bore more questions as to why he was rarely there. She wondered that briefly before asking if he lived in Lhavit long, the questions still floating around in the back of her head as he answered that question as well. Apparently the boy had never been anywhere else, or so he thought. He revealed his parents were sailors and hadn’t told him if he ever lived elsewhere.

His words struck a chord within her whether he could see that or not. She nodded slowly, almost withdrawn suddenly. Her head whirled towards the window, sable hair tossing up in a delayed display behind her, as thunder and lightning rocked the building. She could feel the angry rumble in her chair, reverberating through her chest for the stint of time that it was present. Zulrav, she thought, was truly staking his claim in the skies. She recovered from the distraction and turned back to Atticus, smiling as an apology for her sudden disconnection.

She caught the tail end of his nervous fidget, rubbing the back of his head. In this scholarly city on the bluffs she had talked to many people who knew their way around conversation. Atticus did not appear to be one of those people. The way he spoke told as much to her. Even those in Zeltiva were more collected and confident in their communication than the teenage boy before her. Aimèe chalked it up to her previous inkling: she intimidated him with her careful words and gentle sentences and, possibly, her apperance. Still, she held the twang of a Zeltivan in her tongue that flicked brightly whenever she hit hard consonants and flirted carefully with soft vowels. Wasn’t she an oddity in herself in a place surrounded by the well-spoken of Lhavit? She thought so at the very least.

His question perked her up in another small smile. “In Zeltiva I was a doctor’s assistant,” she said almost proudly. “I’m doing the same thing here at one of the clinics. I just started less than a fortnight ago, but it’s rather fun.”

Her smile brightened at the mention of her occupation. It was something she truly reveled in, helping others. It made her feel good because it followed in the path her father had once lay before her several years ago. Now, she was taking up that path herself, forging it and making it her own. The foundation for which to build upon had been placed during her gracious rearing in the coastal city of kelp ale and docks.

Her chest filled with breath to ask a question in reply but instead they were interrupted by the waitress trailing over to the table again. Kindly, the woman handed a clean towel of burgundy color to Atticus and withdrew herself quickly. It was clear the towel was well made, at least in Aimee’s eyes. She was used to seeing things of good quality, and wearing them, as seen by the material of her dress.

In the next moment another waitress came over with an ornate kettle of tea, two tea-saucers, and teacups. She set the kettle down between the two seated and divvied up the saucers and the petite tea cups on them. In the next moment she was pouring the pre-brewed tea into the vessels. Aimèe watched as her cup filled with the pleasantly pink liquid. The aroma was delicate and slightly sweet smelling. She took a whiff, filling her lungs with the scent before sighing contentedly. After the woman filled Atticus’ cup she was off again and Aimèe was allowed an unimpeded view of the teen.

“I believe it’s youthberry tea,” she said to the boy across the table.

Her honey eyes flicked down to the cup, watching as the steam wound up from the liquid’s hot surface. Looking up, she found Atticus again.

“What about you?” she asked. “What do you do for work? You look rather young.”

From the looks of the boy he could’ve been anything. She didn’t think he partook in laborious jobs because of his thin frame and overall lankiness. While he was young, a boy drawn to labor was usually more built in their frame. This one was not, and she was led to believe he was a scholar’s protégé or something else entirely. She knew very little about the city to draw a true conclusion; thus, she was left to her assumptions until he would divulge an answer.

After that answer was given she asked, “Why is it that you’re rarely home? Do you have other engagements outside of your job?”

[Atticus Leslie]

She glanced at the window after his mention of his parents, and Atticus, out of curiosity, investigated in suit.

It was really beautiful out there. Well, destructive as well, but it really was gorgeous. If he focused, he could hear the rain hitting the outside walls with fervent ferocity. It sounded like music. Of course, Atticus hadn't heard much music in his life, but it sounded very sweet. He loved the rain. It put him at ease nearly instantly. Thunder shook the structures of the building, and it struck a chord within him that put him at rest. He turned back to Aimee with calmer eyes now, nearly okay with the situation at hand, but not quite entirely. It did him good to realize that, much like the rain, either his anxiety would pass or the moment would. It wouldn't be forever.

Suddenly, Aimee's honey sweet skin and dark auburn eyes didn't intimidate Atticus as much. It was still a peculiar encounter with a stranger he knew nearly nothing about, and it frightened him half to death, but it was better now than before.

"In Zeltiva, I was a doctor's assistant." She said, her peculiar way of speech drawing Atticus back to the moment.

"Hm?" He hummed softly in quiet curiosity, forgetting for a moment his previous inquiry.

"I'm doing the same thing here at one of the clinics. I just started less than a fortnight ago, but it's rather fun."

The young astronomer prepared to reply when a waitress had entered the scene and offered Atticus a nice, burgundy towel. He took it graciously, murmuring a quiet 'thank you' before she had left.

Atticus nodded in understanding, prepared to speak once more on her interests when they were interrupted by a waitress - perhaps the same as before, Atticus wasn't entirely sure - and set down tea. How very... Kind. Atticus loved tea, nearly as much as he loved the heavens and stars above, but he wasn't sure how much Kina he was carrying. He searched his pockets hastily for any form of currency, placing ten sopping Kina on the tea saucer in front of him, as to not warp the wood on the table. As he did so, Aimee had been kind enough to pour the lad some tea. He took in a deep breath catching something... Familiar.

Youthberry tea?

Atticus' eyes bulged slightly. Youthberry was one of his favorites.

He eagerly placed the tea to his lips, gulping it down, not quite realizing how thirsty he was beforehand.

"I believe it's Youthberry tea," the girl said.

Atticus nodded eagerly, holding the tea to him close. "Oh, yes Aimee. It's definitely Youthberry, thank the stars." He took another sizable sip.

"What about you?" She said after a moment of pause.

Atticus froze, looking up from his tea at the girl. "What do you do for work? You look rather young."

The young stargazer smiled to himself. He got that a lot. He placed his tea down on the saucer and cleared his throat, trying to think of how exactly to place his response.

"I'm... A scientist. Kind of." He responded. "Like in the way a doctor's assistant, for instance, is a biologist, I am an astronomer. Or... I suppose it's a little bit more direct. Cause I am an astronomer. An apprentice one. But uh... Hopefully not for long." He nodded. "But yeah, uh... I'm pretty young, I guess. Younger than most of the other people I work with. I'm actually pretty lucky to do what I do since I'm fifteen and can keep up. You know, mentally."

"Why is it you're rarely home? Do you have other engagements outside of your job?"

"I just work a lot but, uh... I do have one thing." Atticus responded, breaking out immediately in a suppressed grin and chuckling to himself, barely able to speak. "I've been investigating some theories on inertia recently," he laughed a little bit, but choked it down.

"But they're not gaining any..." He laughed again. "... momentum."

oocI warned you this would happen in chat. It has happened.

ooc2To graders: I would much appreciate a lore on Atticus' new status as Lhavit's resident Punlord. Thank you.

[Aimee Fabron]

Atticus had already begun drinking his tea, the heat held within the liquid being completely disregarded as the teen gulped his fill down. Thankfully the waitress had left the kettle for them to continuously refill their cups. Atticus had placed down ten kinas to pay for the tea. Aimèe, unsure of how much the tea was supposed to cost, reached for her satchel. She unclasped it and brought it up, reaching around inside for her coin purse. When it was found she pulled it out and unstrung it, fishing around inside the sack for her own kina, ten like Atticus had presented.

He confirmed energetically that the tea was indeed youthberry. It was something Aimèe encountered in Zeltiva given her father’s love of herbs, tea, and floral decorations. Her father’s delicateness had rubbed off on the Zeltivan born girl, and now it found itself in her various likes of the soft, gentle things in life. Lhavit fit into that description. The city, by itself, was gorgeous in her eyes. The fact that it was on a bluff, close to the stars and heavens, was a blessing in its own and added to the charm of the place immensely. She could see herself residing in Lhavit for many years to come, if not the rest of her life as a whole.

Her asking of his occupation apparently brought a pause to the teen across from her. She waited, curious, the steam of her tea flowing upwards in the air. Her commenting on his youth brought a smile. Clearing his throat, Atticus informed her he was kind of like a scientist. He gathered her interest, seen by the way she canted her head slightly to the side and sat up straighter still in her chair. He compared their occupations, saying he assisted another scientist like she assisted a doctor, a biologist, another kind of scientist. He assisted an astronomer; he was an apprentice. However, he hoped he wasn’t an apprentice for long.

She quirked her brows at him, waiting for him to elaborate a little further. The elaboration didn’t come in a clear-cut way, however. He went on about how his youth was surprising in his field. He was, in fact, younger than most he worked with. He thought himself lucky he could keep up with those like him, at least mentally.

It was commendable at the very least. He wasn’t being pretentious in his commentary either, which was admirable in her opinion. For a youth such as Atticus to think themselves lucky for keeping up mentally with those older than him showed he had some doubt in his abilities, or himself. It was easy for youths like him, especially young men, to be overconfident. She had seen it herself in the upstart doctors her father tutored alongside her. She wondered if the men of Lhavit were different, having not met many of them, or been involved in a conversation with them like she was here with Atticus.

Evidently Atticus was rarely home because he worked a lot, then he went on about how he had been investigating theories on inertia – something she knew about – but they had not been gaining any momentum. He said it all between spurts of laughter, hinting to Aimèe where his words were going. Still, the pun was humorous, not because it was actually funny, but because Atticus had pride in it, shown by his laughter.

His laugh was contagious, bringing one out of Aimèe as well. She stifled it by bringing up her teacup to sit from carefully, not wanting to scald her tongue or lips, delicate as they were. The teacup was sat down back on the saucer, allowing her to glance about the room once more. She thought more people would have come into the inn by now, but the lobby was relatively lightly packed, a smattering of groups here and there in other corners of the room. Either people were upstairs in their rooms or hiding away from the storm in other buildings.

The young woman’s stomach gurgled quietly as the tea splashed down inside. She had been sitting there since the storm started, but hadn’t eaten anything before then. The only thing that she had eaten was a buttered roll from that morning in her apartment, curled up in her armchair with a small book. Now, she was direly hungry. The waitress had asked her earlier if she wanted anything to eat and Aimèe requested tea instead. She wished she had asked what was being served for lunch.

“Are you hungry?” she asked Atticus, her fingers still lightly gripping the handle of her teacup. “I was going to order lunch since this storm doesn’t appear to be letting up at all. Maybe you’ll want to join me? The sign over there says lunch is only three kinas. I could pay for the both of us.”

Aimèe spoke out of the goodness of her heart, not because she thought lowly of Atticus. He had just produced ten kinas for the tea. She figured, like a bottle of wine, the tea kettle would cost about the same, if not less. If he was willing to pay for that, she was more than willing to pay for their lunches.

Before he answered her hand was already up in the air, honey eyes searching for an available waitress. If he would decline the invitation to eat lunch with her, then she would order for herself. If not, then she would order a lunch for the both of them. The outcome was in his hands and voice right now.

[Atticus Leslie]

She laughed!

Atticus exhaled in soft relief. He didn't know why he didn't think she would, honestly. It was comedy gold. No momentum... Precious.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, a wide grin stretched across her cheeks. "I was going to order lunch since this storm doesn't appear to be letting up at all. Maybe you'll want to join me? The sign over there says lunch is only three kinas. I could pay for the both of us."

Atticus shrugged and smiled back. "I'm not particularly hungry, but..." He glanced outside at the storm, pulling the towel tight around his shoulders. "I suppose I could stay. At least until we've run out of tea."

Aimee called over a waitress shortly thereafter and made the appropriate order. Atticus took the moment in between to study the girl. She seemed... Much happier. Not extravagantly so, but her gray eyes seemed just a bit brighter than before, and it was nice to see the girl smile. More than that, he was glad he was the one who could do that for her.

Atticus watched as the waitress took her leave, and focused himself back on Aimee. "Why are you here, anyway?" He asked. "I know why I'm here but... Why were sitting alone?"

Atticus thought for a moment quietly before adding on. "I didn't take anyone's place, did I? I would hate to have intruded..."

The boy sat back and listened to Aimee's response, nodding slowly. Afterwards there was a moment of silence. Atticus coughed into his hand and ran his hand over the back of his neck again. "You know..." He began, looking at his shoes. "I know we just met today and we're basically strangers but... If you ever wanted I could give you kind of... A stellar tour. And maybe you could teach me some medicine. I've always been a little bit curious." He said, and smiled at her. "Well... Actually... I couldn't do much with the stellar tour. I can't take you to the telescope or anything but I can kind of just... Point at things." He shrugged. "I actually doubt it would be that interesting but it'd be nice. I guess. If you want."

It had gotten, now to the point of the conversation wherein it was fairly difficult to break any new ground with the girl. He hadn't been a star conversationalist to begin with, certainly not, and perhaps the most intriguing thing he had said had to be about momentum. It's peculiar. It seems the only time he is able to make even the slightest bit of conversation is when he's talking about hi-

That's it! Talk about his experiments! She was a scientist! Sort of! She would care! Sort of! She could appreciate his work! Maybe even talk about her own!

Atticus patted himself down, searching, in vain, for his journal before realizing it had been left at home to avoid soiling it. That's no matter. He knew what he was working on. How could he forget? It had all but consumed his time recently. Reading the physics, the math, involved, thinking on it day in and day out. He could repeat his work backwards.

"In all seriousness, Aimee, I am working on something currently that's somewhat interesting if you'd like," he began. "Currently, I'm doing my best to theoretically deconstruct light into component parts and properties so that I may better understand its composition. As far as I can tell, it's new work..." He said, rubbing his forehead and chuckling a bit. "The Observatory is so intent on following constellations that sometimes it forgets to discover things."

Atticus looked up at her. There wasn't much else he could do. If she wasn't interested, it may be the end of this little encounter, which would be a shame. As difficult as it was to navigate, Atticus enjoyed Aimee's company. She's a nice girl, if nothing else. Perhaps a bit intimidating, but that wasn't saying much.

He glanced outside. The storm was getting softer, but had yet to subside. He didn't much feel like going back out there, either. He had just gotten comfortable.