Closed [Dovey] On the Edge of Rioting

Both Dovey and Dra-Vaerin get caught up in the chaos of the dock riots.

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This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]

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[Dovey] On the Edge of Rioting

Postby Vaerin on April 11th, 2017, 2:32 pm

((OOC: It's okay! :) I was bogged down with a mid semester paper until like yesterday night.))

It had seemed as though his companion had also put the pieces together in regards to the unidentified voice. Well, at least what Dra-Vaerin thought was the answer to the question of who it belonged to. It was just as plausible that there was another unfolding story similar to their own within the hellish scenery of the fleeing crowd. In his mind, it would have been preferable for it to be someone else. Which he tried not to think about too hard. It would have been terrible to know that someone else was being pursued in such a terrible manner. But at least it most likely would have been someone that did not have to worry as much about their life. He and this woman would only have had to concern themselves with getting to safety. No, the two of them had to flee and avoid some gargantuan man that had decided to take some perceived matter into his own hands.

In this moment the young widow found himself questioning why he had decided that this outside world was his true calling. He could have stayed in the confines of Kalinor. It may not have been any easier on his emotions, but at least the only thing he would have been concerned with was how to reach such a level in his preferred craft that no-one else in Kalinor could have questioned his competence. Instead of the seemingly endless list of anxiety-inducing possibilities he needed to think about. Whilst he was a well-behaved individual all of the time, the knowledge that he could easily be killed for a misunderstanding without any question added another level of complexity that was foreign to him. Perhaps he could have even become famed within his city. Most likely not though. Still, it was a grand fantasy to have.

"Is that the man from earlier?"

Those loudly whispered words snaked themselves into the depths of his ear like a frigid stream of water, pouring through to the lengths of his fingers and toes. He turned his head a fraction of the way to meet her gaze, and maybe catch a glimpse of the surrounding faces. Nothing stood out at him though.

"It is a distinct possibility..." He responded, a shiver coursed its way down his spine. A direct result of the concern he was feeling.

Barely a beat in their conversation passed before the young woman asked him to exchange positions so that he could try and spot the man while she led. Dra-Vaerin did not need to think about it for very long before adjusting himself to be behind the woman. It had been evident that the woman was struggling to keep herself balanced in the same way he was. Dra-Vaerin with some uncharacteristically acidic observation noted that she definitely possessed no grace whatsoever - once again something he would regret thinking when the stinging heat of the day wore off and his nerves settled. Therefore it did not take a genius to come to the logical conclusion that the one that was more maneuverable in these circumstances should be the one to take a more active approach in scanning their surroundings.

"I shall." His affirmation carried with it an almost comical seriousness to it. Not that Dra-Vaerin set out to be humorous in this instance. It was that his tone was more akin to one that a person would expect from a man being sent out on a sacrificial mission, thus martyring themselves; rather than someone agreeing to keep an eye out for a stranger in a crowd.

However, under the new arrangements, it was now Dra-Vaerin that felt like the left-footed clod. As they proceeded, it became almost evident immediately that the job that was expected of him would be more complex that originally anticipated. The act of moving through such a packed space, while eyeing the crowd for a particular point of reference constantly made keeping track of where his feet were difficult. Where once he had been able to weave and mould his body in such a way to pass through a tight gap with ease. The same actions were much clumsier now, nowhere near as refined as what they usually were. Where he had been the guiding light, now he had to rely much more heavily on his grasp of the woman's wrist, and at times his free hand on her upper arm so he did not fall. He had to also keep in mind the position of his nails, lest he accidentally dig too hard into the woman's arm. While he managed to correct himself fairly quickly after a blunder, the fact that they had happened embarrassed him. He was a much better dancer than this!

Distinguishing the rush of faces that shot by, or were trying to jam themselves into the alleyway was another challenge. Even in spite of the size of the man, it did not make him an easier mark to spot. Had he just appeared taller to the young man due to the terror of the situation? It was a possibility.

A couple similar to them caught his attention momentarily. The woman seemed a few years older than the two of them, and the man had a similar complexion to Dra-Vaerin's own companion. There was fear in the woman's eyes, he could see it from even at the distance they were from him. She was struggling to keep ahold of him as they were barraged by oncoming strangers. They were yelling at each other: yet Dra-Vaerin could not make out what they were saying. Then he looked to the left to see a calloused looking man in his middle years sturdily moving through the crowd with the immutable force of a heavy rock in a turbulent current.

And then something caught his attention in between the two points of interest. A gaze that sent the same chills down his spine. A gaze that felt like it was filled with hate. He thought maybe he recognised the face for a moment. But before he could focus his sight on this oddity, it vanished. Like a wisp of smoke from the camp fire into a cold winter's night. Merely a suggestion of something terrible.

It caused Dra-Vaerin's brow to furrow as he quickly turned his head back around to look at where the woman that he was linked to was going. As well as to correct himself before a foreign set of feet tripped him up. After this correction, he turned his head back around to try and find that glowering set of eyes that seemed to stand out amongst the sea of eyes surrounding them. Yet he did not see anything. Nor had there been another clearly audible shout that may or may not have been directed at them.

"I..." he started before trailing off, switching back into his mother tongue temporarily out of nervousness, "Viratas hear my prayer, please do not let it be him."

Fearing that perhaps this change of language would spook his companion into abandoning him altogether, he decided to quickly translate for the woman.

"Sorry, I was praying to my god not to encounter that man again. I hope that does not offend you."

With that, all he could do was hope he was not abandoned at this moment when safety was becoming ever closer. Either by Viratas, or this woman. Perhaps he had just been jumping at phantoms.
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Note: Due to university scheduling, I may not be able to respond consistently on Mondays, Tuesdays, or Fridays. I am sorry for any delays this may cause.
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[Dovey] On the Edge of Rioting

Postby Dovey on May 3rd, 2017, 3:30 am

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(OOC: Again, I'm sorry to be so late! Life's been hectic lately, but I'll do my best to reply within a more consistent time window in future. Cheers!)

Dovey set one shoulder forward and her eyes determinedly ahead, nevertheless shivering slightly as she felt the thin-fingered grip of the Widow shift on her wrist. This was almost surreal; the clamor of the crowd around her was weirdly similar to dead silence, as she could glean no meaning from the sound; besides, she was guiding a spider-person through a mob while fleeing from a mysterious enemy who might or might not actually be following them. Her mind simply could not normalize the situation, could not fit it into what she knew of the world, and so she felt as if she had been plucked from the ordinary world and thrust into some warped facsimile of reality.

Not that she pondered all this; she had no time to analyze the cause of her creeping sense of unreality. Her eyes must scan the cobbled road before them, nearly invisible as it was beneath hurried feet. Her hearing had to be sharp as well, and she should be paying attention to the feel of the stone beneath the thin soles of her boots, exploring the safety of each step in the moment before her foot was firm on the ground and she was committed to the motion. She let her shoulder act as a wedge, extending it forward into the narrower gaps on their route, using it to open up space between the people ahead without outright shoving them out of her way.

She had an easier time keeping her balance now she was the one to set the pace; whereas before she'd had to follow the slender Widow on his agile course, now she was able to put her stockier build to work for her, using her sturdy frame to prise open gaps large enough to move through comfortably. They were maybe just a mite slower than before, but she for one felt a fair sight steadier even as the stress of having to find a safe route settled once again about her shoulders. But they were further down the alley now, and although it might be an illusion, she thought she could feel a pattern forming in the way they moved. Forward, step, step, then between two strangers or around someone's back, then there would be a hint of openness again and she would have a moment in which to sight the next gap to widen and push through. At any rate she thought she was catching a strange sort of unsteady balance, even in the middle of this chaos.

Perhaps, though, that wasn't true for the Widow behind her. She could feel his hand locked tight around her wrist, and occasionally his arm would nearly jerk out of her grasp as she pressed forward while he stumbled, or hung back to find his balance, or some such thing. That shouldn't have been satisfying, she supposed, and yet it was; his grace, however typical it was for a creature such as himself, had left her feeling awkward and ungainly. It was nice to know it wasn't only she who had trouble following another's lead in this crowd.

But then, the Widow had a harder task than hers had been, she remembered. He was watching behind them for that stranger, the one who had tried to separate them, perhaps the one who had shouted out behind them so shortly ago. She thought she ought to ask him if he'd seen any pursuer, but before she could twist her head awkwardly around to address her companion, he faltered a little once more before speaking himself.

"I..."

His voice trailed hesitantly off, and Dovey felt prickling on the back of her neck. Had he spotted something? But then the Widow spoke again, and now his voice was altered, the consonants more rounded, the tone sibilant, soft...

It's his language, she realized, with a little shudder she could not quite suppress. It's the language of the spiders.

Perhaps it was simply Dovey's already-existing discomfort with the Widow, playing tricks on her mind; still, this strange tongue sounded wrong. There was something insidious about it, as though it were alien and attempting to appear familiar - it almost, she realized with a twinge in her gut, it almost sounded seductive -

Unconsciously she had drawn a little away from him, spooked by the reminder that this was no ordinary creature whose arm she held; still, she did not let go, and a moment later he had switched back to the comfortingly familiar common tongue.

"Sorry, I was praying to my god not to encounter that man again. I hope that does not offend you."

"Of course not," Dovey said instantly. Licked her lips, took a settling breath. Reaffirmed her grip on his arm. Stupid, she said to herself, though the insult was half-hearted. Crowd's more danger than he is right now. Keep your head on. There was no reason to panic, just because a man felt the need to say a prayer.

Although... why, now she thought of it, should he choose this moment to be praying? What was it he had been going to say in common, before he switched to his spidery-tongue? She lifted her eyes from the cobbles, throwing a glance back to the slender figure behind her. "Is there a reason you're more worried now than earlier?" she asked, attempting to keep her tone steady. "See - anything?" She didn't want to be too direct; she was afraid, superstitiously she knew, that if she named the threat she would call it down on their heads. The Widow would know what she meant.

Meantime, she had to keep picking them a path. She thought - she hoped - they were nearer now to the end of the alley than they were to their starting point. Still the crowd was chaotic, and if she didn't pay attention to where her feet went, they'd soon have bigger troubles than this elusive pursuer. She turned her eyes down to the road.


Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach
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Last edited by Dovey on May 14th, 2017, 8:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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[Dovey] On the Edge of Rioting

Postby Vaerin on May 14th, 2017, 3:26 pm

((OOC: Don't worry about it all! I hope things are at a calmer pace for you now :) Sorry about my own delay.
Finals are around the corner.))

The violet eyes of young Dra-Vaerin darted madly from side to side, barely taking pause to observe the world around him. He usually was so composed and rational under pressure. After all, that was a skill that was highly prized amongst his kin. Yet, all that swam through his thoughts was images of his own gruesome end. Ever since arriving here it seemed that something much more lethal than the cold gazes of the Symenestra followed his trail. The prejudice here was much more sinister in feeling. Though maybe because it was an entirely different experience to his other life.

Whilst it was impossible for him to focus on it clearly, he knew that back in Kalinor he was under the protection of his mother and the man she had married. The outrage that would stir from those two over him being harmed or killed kept him relatively safe. Disliked and scorned, but protected from most harm. Here, the rats had more perceived value than him to the local populace. Or so it felt. Even just holding this woman's arm had him being pursued like a criminal convicted of murder.

It was an odd mix of fear, anxiety, and disappointment that was percolated amongst the adrenaline that coursed through his body. The fear, and anxiety had a very obvious causation that he did not need to process anymore analytically than the immediate situation demanded. They were most likely being pursued and risked either being trampled or getting confused for looters. Yet, if Dra-Vaerin were to reflect upon the disappointment its causation was easily discernable. Even despite all his preparation, and well-intentioned plans: nothing was going even remotely like he expected it to. So many years researching the outside world...yet so many more spent on shaping himself into a creature of such delicately refined social mannerisms. All of which were designed to obfuscate both his deeply-held personal grief, and make him instantly appreciable as a pinnacle of deportment. It all felt like it was for nothing. All those starry-eyed dreams that seemed as if they could be real felt utterly foolish. He was a failure. An utter, useless, wretched failure.

But he could not let his self pity distract him now. There would be time for that should he survive this ordeal. He needed to help the two of them get to safety. He tried his best to refocus his gaze, to actively calm himself down and bring both his body and mind back to a more workable condition. He owed it to the both of them.

Yet, that did not last for very long, as once more he could feel the woman's grasp on him weaken at exactly the same time his speech slipped back into Symnos. Rather than that send him into a depressive spiral, he felt a rage bloom from deep inside his core. It felt more than just an attack on him, and his perceived nature because of the way he looked: it was if she were attacking everything about his culture. That more than anything was unforgivable in the young man's eyes. Anything else he would have been willing to let wash over him: but to have his way of life slighted like that ired him greatly.

Of course, after his explanation, she re-established the firmer connection to him and affirmed it as being an acceptable thing to do. Which even in his irate state was appreciated an action he appreciated. As he was close to nearly tripping due to the misplaced foot of the man that briefly clipped his shoulder as the crowd jostled its way through the small alley.

In a rare moment since their joining each other, the woman turned briefly to face him when speaking to him. He may have almost been appreciative of the gesture had he not misconstrued her first question. Was this woman so ignorant enough to ask such a moronic question?! What possible reason did the Symenestra halfling have to be more concerned about some man twice the size of him chasing after him? In a city where his kind were so clearly disdained no less!

Dra-Vaerin's annoyance at the woman, that had up until that point been fleeting, nearly let itself loose in a display of fury unlike any that he had never displayed before. He was going to preach at her until he was blue in the face - a feat which the unfamiliar would assume would not take too much exertion given the pallor of his complexion - about the trials he faced as a Dra. In fact, his mouth was already open, forming the first transitory shape to assist in forming the words of his opening argument. However, this was quickly halted by her clarifying question. As if she were trying to avoid drawing the attention of the whims of fate, she referred to their source of strife in an intentionally vague way.

Dra-Vaerin reluctantly shut his mouth for a moment, turning his head behind him to try and scope out the man while he reorganised his thoughts. In this few second long conversation diverter, he took a deep breath and chided himself for getting so worked up over nothing.

"Not decisively...I thought perhaps I did..." He responded as measuredly as he could, a slightly more labile intonation evident in his voice. Perhaps this intonation reflected the remnants of the anger that nearly let itself loose upon the woman.

It seemed that they edged ever closer to the end of the alley, and for that Dra-Vaerin could not be more thankful. How he yearned to be able to scale the walls with no issue. If only he were full blooded, he could have escaped with no difficulty. Well, in all fairness he probably would have never been in this situation if he were full blooded.

He turned around, and once more felt that he saw something from the corner of his eye. Yes, it felt like that penetrating gaze from earlier. But just like before, as soon as his eyes focused in on the direction which he felt it coming from: nothing. How was this possible? Surely there was no magic conceivable that would allow for such a thing to be done. Perhaps he just was not paying enough attention...

Furrowing his brow, the young man hesitantly kept one foot moving in front of the other while gazing through the sea of faces. Yet, every cursory and in depth scan had the same result. There was no indication of the man behind them. He was jumping at ghosts. He had to have been. Thankfully the woman seemed to have mastered some sort of pattern he could not concentrate on in moving through the crowd, because he surely would have fallen on his face when he made a realisation.

He had been so concerned with the notion of the man being behind them, he had not fully paid attention to the throng of people before the two of them. It seemed implausible that this man had somehow managed to bypass them...but he was a singluar individual. He was not being weighed down by the clumsy and ungainly movements of another trying to navigate the crowd.

A wave of dread crashed against the man's sparrow-like frame. He turned his head and started facing forward. A precursory glance revealed nothing. Yet the closer the two got to the exit of the alley, the more a looming feeling of dread weighed upon Dra-Vaerin's shoulders.

And then suddenly he felt he saw a familiar silhouette to the far right, and about six people in front of them. Determined not to lose his mark once more, Dra-Vaerin's eyes bored into every last detail that he could make out through the frenetic scenery surrounding him.

Yes, the height matched, what he remembered of the man's clothing also matched. But he couldn't make out his eyes. And then, like the gods had decided that fate was a cruel mistress, the man turned around. That horrible gaze nearly made contact with Dra-Vaerin. However, he just managed to duck behind the head of a passerby. It seemed that he avoided detection for the moment. However, it did seem that this stranger did notice his companion for a moment before refocusing on making his way through the crowd. And of course he would reach the exit of the alley before they could. This did not bode well. It made Dra-Vaerin very uncomfortable. Though, at least the wider street meant that there was more room for both of them to flee. He had to keep the desire to panic at bay. Especially in this moment. It would not serve him well to lose his head like he had been doing so much recently. Yet it was always easier to say those kinds of things outside the heat of the moment. His composure was calm enough at the moment, but he doubted it would hold.

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he leant close to the woman,
"I see him. Just ahead of us. He is going to reach the exit before we do...what are we going to do?"
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Note: Due to university scheduling, I may not be able to respond consistently on Mondays, Tuesdays, or Fridays. I am sorry for any delays this may cause.
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