The Struggle [Open]

[Ezra Folles]

45th Day of Winter, 510 AV Ezra stood at the very tip of the Passenger Quay, staring out past the far away boats and into the open sea. He had been within Denval for less than an hour, but after a brief walk around the city he had simply returned to the docks where he first stepped foot onto this town. The biting cold nipped at his body, only slightly subdued by a thin and dingy cloak that whipped about his shoulders. The robes he wore beneath didn't offer much more protection, nor the billowing cloth pants and reed sandals. The cold had initially bothered him, but at this point it was welcome. He hadn't said but two words to anyone since he arrived in the city. The reason was not some innate tendency towards being shy. Ezra felt the need. He had spent the past two years utilizing his djed and projecting the astral reflection of his withered and useless right arm almost constantly. Now, he was stymied. In the wilderness one does not make amends for society's fear of magic, but in a city he simply could not risk projecting. But he wanted too. Badly. Ezra tilted his head, and closed his eyes. His right arm was strung across his torso in a sling, seemingly useless. His other was held next to his face, locked in a strange gesture reminiscent of prayer. Ezra had not done this for two years, not since leaving the Shinya... but then, he'd never had a reason to. He attempted to center himself, flushing the desire to have a functioning arm however temporary it may be away and casting it to sea. It was difficult. Long had it been since he attempted to wash away thought from his mind and attain a sense of still. It was as if his mind was littered with trash; memories of his crimes, the good times and the bad, that woman... Ezra stood in that motionless state, attempting to calm his djed. He must have looked odd, a crippled stranger standing in the cold with his head bowed, and with such a blade sheathed at his hip... Woe to any who would disturb him. ---

[Marius]

Marius was searching for gulls, in the vague hope that he could befriend them, learn their language, and dispatch them on a cull of the children and sundry rodents of Denval, when he caught sight of a strange man. A man clad in light robes and sandals, who, by the look of him, was obviously a prostitute. It was an encouraging sign. Marius, who believed himself a wise man, knew that a city’s eminence was measured not by the thickness of its walls or the contents of its coffers, but by its coterie of whores. Denval is truly becoming a place to take pride in, he grinned, and I am its trousers. It was a short, meandering stroll to where the prostitute stood on the quay, next to the horrid, roiling waters of the sea, but Marius took a long while to get there. First, he threw a rock at a wheelbarrow. Then he jumped over a puddle of mud, and went to inspect the stones of a building. ”Cracked? How dare they,” he exclaimed, scrawled a polite remonstrance on the lintel with a piece of chalk. It was abominable that he should have to dwell in a town that had masons of such poor quality. He briefly considered barging in on Astrid and giving her a piece of his mind, but eventually he decided against it. He wasn’t going to let her have first crack at this new morsel. “Oh, you little tease,” he chuckled, and strode to the quay with more than the usual spring in his step. “Ah, it is fortunate that you have alighted upon these shores,” he said. “I have been a tireless campaigner for progress in this benighted settlement, and your arrival shines like a ray of hope upon my soul. I am known as Marius Mero, miner, scholar, person, explorer, and lately, victim of the runs. That being said, I must beseech you to pardon my poor manners. I have been among these savages for much too long, and I have the gray hairs to show for it. See for yourself, my good man!” Marius bowed his head so Ezra might see the imagined damage that had been wrought upon his mane, and in so doing, noticed the blade the other man wore at his hip. “Is that included in your services, or do you charge extra? he leered.

[Ezra Folles]

Ezra had slowly turned to face his visitor, begrudgingly admitting to himself that the disturbance wasn't what had stymied his meditation. He hadn't really believed it would work anyhow. But here... now here was something interesting. "I'm afraid that this is reserved for only the fairest of clients." Ezra said with a smirk, leaning forward slightly in a bow. "I jest. I am no prostitute... though i'm a bit concerned that i'm apparently wearing the uniform of one." Ezra remarked, scratching his chin with his good arm. "I'm Ezra Folles. Tell me, a dainty little fellow such as yourself obviously know a bit about fashion. Apparently, I need a bit of help." Popping his hip out and placing his arm on his hip to imitate the standard "MmmHmmm!" pose. Ezra wasn't sure of this man was a prankster, or an idiot. Either way, he had provided a decent distraction from his desire to use magic. A little humor could help any malady, after all. Aside from that, if people who acted like this existed in the city, well... perhaps blending in wouldn't as difficult as he thought. "I'm new in this city, obviously. Aside from the apparent lack of male whores, I don't know anything about this place. I'm going to need some place to stay... no, no, not at your place." Ezra said, sighing visibly. ---

[Marius]

“Good sir,” Marius cried, as usual not bothering to listen to more than ten words, “are you insinuating that I have designs on buggering you? I, the moral compass of society, the very resin that binds this place together? I am most affronted by the faults of your perception. If my ‘nuncle Ambrose was here he would be horrified, but then again, he would also try to bugger you,” Marius remarked, his outrage slipping away. “In any case, did you mention fashion? If you are indeed in search of raiment, then I am your man. I count myself among the foremost experts on fashion, whether said garb be modest or provocative, common or flamboyant. I am also,” he finished, “quite fond of spiders.” Marius was disappointed to learn that Ezra was not a prostitute, but he always chose to look upon the bright side. It provided him with a good excuse to pester Astrid, and besides, he could always persuade this man to turn tricks at some later date. “Seeing as you are new to this city,” he chattered, “we must tend to your immediate needs, lest you perish in the cold. It would be quite a shame, seeing as we have a surplus of housing. I fear that even if I wished to share a bed with you, my meager abode would be cramped to an extent that is far beyond my tolerance. It is sad indeed that I must linger before hewing my sumptuous – and dare I say impregnable – manor from the rocks that surround this hamlet. Shall we go for a stroll?” Marius offered his elbow to Ezra. “If you perceive any children in hiding, try to stab out their eyes.”