Ambition (Yomilla)

[Reed]

Date: 1st of Fall, 520 A.V.

Perhaps it would have been etter to go with that bath first. At least then they wouldn't have to suffer the dirty looks as people caught a whiff of them. Reed didn't much mind it when he was left on his own, but part of him took umbrage when they directed them at the other squire. It was a part of him that he hated. An overprotective urge that hearkened back to past trauma in Sunberth. An while logically he knew she was just as fierce as him in a fight there was also that part of him that wanted to protect that little medicine woman who took so much punishment on his behalf.

The oddest thing about the comparison was that she didn't look nothing like the woman he had known. Her face was more expressive, her skin darker, and her hair was a different texture. There was nothing linking them so far as he could tell. Even their personalities differed.

A barmaid set a mug of ale in front of him. Reed's mind drifted to the present moment. First on the opaque brown liquid in the wooden tankard, then on the face of the woman sitting across from him. Yomilla. Wrapping his fingers around the mug he lifted it to his lips to take a swig. Part of him hoped it might clear these cobwebs from his mind, but it was not going to be so easy as that. Emotions seldom were, especially when complicated by an obstinate brother.

"Ah" He sighed after setting down the mug, filling the silence momentarily while he collected his fragmented thoughts. "Not as refreshing as cool, clear water after a fight but it does something for the spirit." Reed's voice was steady as he spoke these words but there was a hint of trouble in his eyes. With one hand he could count how many timese he had sat like this with another person. What did that say about him, a man whom had been here so many seasons. Nothing good he imagined as he forced down another gulp of the ale.

It had a reassuring taste to it, a reminder of its mollifying effects on the tumult of his mind. The ale here was of much better quality than it had been in Sunberth, however in Sunberth there wasn't much that could be drank safely besides ale. Water couldn't exact be trusted even in the best of situations there.

Feeling the grain of the table, he considered the fact that he was still very much a stranger in this place. So much of Sunberth still clung to him, and Reed worried that the muck of that place would never wash off. Would never leave him, that he would always be nothing more than the animal he had been back there.

Drifting again. Reed might have openly admonished himself if it wasn't for present company. He'd developed that worrying habit when little Nikali showed up in his life, and had taken to talking to himself even when the statue was inert. It helped him work through his problems in some ways even if it left him feeling a little awkward afterwards.

Breathing in through his nose, he shifted his focuse instead onto something they could both converse on. Preferably a topic far from the clouds that ranged inside of his head. "You did well with that shield of yours, and that sword. What is it called? I haven't seen its like before."

[Yomila]

Yomila did not mind the odd frown and look that came the pair's way. She was a creature used to stares. Used to eyes full of far worse than the judgement and annoyance of those that currently glanced their way. She did her best to own her space as they entered, head held high and back straight beneath the weight of her dusty-covered armor. She was all smug satisfaction after her victory and she vibrated pride. It came off her in waves, stronger than anything else, even the smell the physical exchange might have generated.

The were squires. They were training to be knights. As far as she was concerned, the people in this tavern should be looking at them with respect and deference.

She swallowed a sigh of relief when they reached a table and she was able to offload the weight of her cumbersome shield, setting it at an angle against the table. Her helm was next, set upon the tabletop next to her own mug. She was too tired for her movements to be anything but lumbering and embraced it, dropping gracelessly into her chair.

Finally, she did sigh. It was all comfortable noise. The collective release of all her aches and pains and throbbings following a satisfying and gratifying workout. She brought her mug to her lips and savored a deep drink.

She appreciated the comfortable silence that followed, favoring him with a small, thin smile over her mug to show this. She did not push for conversation, nor did her energy or countenance require it of him. She did, however, make a small show of difficultly keeping her mug aloft - the unspoken joke reflecting in her black eyes.

Yomila did not seem to pick up on her comrade's worries and mistook his silence as him taking stock of the day. She was doing the same. Now settled, she took inventory of each ache and twinge. Most of what she felt would be gone within a day or two apart from a more acute ache radiating from the joint of her shield arm. That, she pondered, might take longer.

It was only now that she reconsidered coming here. The baths would have been preferable. As pleasing it would be to scrub the grit and grime from her body, there was something to say about the soothing feel of a hot soak after training. It relaxed sore muscles. It calmed running minds.

It would be her next port of call. Once the silence between them bordered on uncomfortable. Once conversation felt forced.

Once the bell grew late.

She was acutely aware of where the sun was in the sky and how much time she might have before she would be forced to take her leave. Armor was not as accommodating as oversized fabric and would not shape itself to her larger frame once she shifted into Leth's creature.

It was only after her mind had done its necessary musing that her attention was on him, eyes flickering over his face, finally seeing evidence of tension that went beyond physical. A line formed between her own brows, lips pulling down. She was not good at comforting others. Like the man across from her, she had a poor history with her fellows and little practice making overtures of friendship.

She swallowed whatever clumsy attempt she was going to make, filling her mouth with ale instead of words.

Thankfully, he brought up an easy topic. Her small mouth turned up in a small smile and nodded a thanks, welcoming the compliment. "It's a broad sword," she said matter-of-factly. "I was told it was a common weapon for mounted combat because of its extra reach." There was a shrug in her voice, on her face, but it didn't touch her shoulders. "I nearly went with the type you use but I wanted something... bigger. Longer." A hand fluttered uselessly on the tabletop, "to overcompensate," she said, honestly. There was something left unsaid there.

"You," she started, repositioning herself so she was more comfortable. "You, too, fought well. It seems natural to you." A grin stole across her features for a moment as her smugness at besting him returned. It was short lived, replaced with a hint of genuine respect. "How long have you been training as a squire?" The look in her eyes was asking for more. It said, How long have you been fighting.

She held a genuine curiosity about him. The way he seemed to read that she liked her autonomy and that she did not want to be treated lightly. She felt like he read her correctly and that meant a lot to her.

She went to take another drink but paused, adding as an afterthought as something registered in her mind, "Riverfall?" It was an odd, abrupt thing to say. Not quite a fully formed question but she suddenly remembered where she had seen kind like his own before. She just couldn't remember what the race was called. "Is that where you are from?" she added.

tag: Reed
nanocount: 841

[Reed]

Reed didn't think much of hiding his expressions from Yomilla. His face was instead plain to her, easily revealing every spasm of thought as it crossed his mind. A hint of amusement was touching his eyes now as he nodded knowingly. It was an instinct that he knew well from the pit but one Kaer had cautioned him against when he'd come to train as a squire. In his words it was better to train under a style you were familiar with and get good with that before you tried something new. An that made a certain amount of sense to him after a fashion. He'd picked up many habits in Sunberth, ones that served him well while he was wielding a short blade though he could easily see how his style might become problematic with a longer weapon. Like his halberd for instance.

"I'd like to learn the riding hammer when it comes time for me to train with the horses-" He hesitated, before coming out with the rest of the sentence, his shame already passed. "I haven't learned how to ride one yet." There was a twinge of fear as he said those words, echoing thoughts he'd held for a long time. He'd ridden a horse once or twice and every time he was pretty terrified by the experience. The animals were just so much bigger than the scrawny specimens he had seen in Sunberth and he couldn't help feeling nervous around the animals.

"Are you familiar with riding?" He asked, almost knowing the answer to his own question as he'd long finguered that every squire had more experience than him with such beast. It was something of a sore point for him, but he didn't begrudge them for it. Rather, he tried to be thankful for the circumstances he found himself in now. That was the only way to move on from the person he had been.

Reed started to find it easier to talk to her as they continued to converse. The words came easier, the emotions more readable from his features. He almost relaxed however the tension along his spine from the plate kept him from being completely at ease. Which was unfortunate as the constant stress was starting to roll into a sginificant mental strain for him. Sweat beaded across his brow as the impulses of his brother became more relevant. He downed another swallow of ale.

"A few seasons now, maybe more but I'm not as well versed at keeping time the Syliran way yet. It has taken some getting used to." He said with a slight smile, enjoying maybe to much of the joke made at his expense. "I-" Reed stopped himself catching a look in her eye. He wasn't sure what he saw there, a weighing of the scales maybe, or trying to figure him out. It was hard not to let the paranoia creep in with how tired he felt. Biting the tip of his tongue, he was moderately confused when she spoke the name to him.

A name that he felt he'd heard before but struck nothing when he tried to draw from it. He was shaking his head before he even understood her follow up question. "Sunberth. I lived there for most of my life." His tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth as he struggled to form the next words. "I was a slave before I met the knights. With my singular experience, it felt an obvious choice to join them after I had been released. I don't know what else I would have done instead honestly." His fingers flexed around his mug as he recalled some very unpleasant images from that time. They came unbidden even as he tried to keep himself from recalling them.

Studiously he looked down at his mug, hoping it hid whatever the images drew out of his expression. When he at last felt confident he had control over his features again he looked up at her, taking a measure sip of the ale just in case.

[Yomila]

The Ethaefal's face rearranged. She, too, was an open book and her day form was the easiest to read, all expressive lines and eyes that said more than her words ever could. Now it showed confusion and curiosity. "Riding hammer?" she asked. She had never heard of such a thing and tried to envision what it would look like. Big, for sure. Long handle. She chewed on how the weight would work for a rider; she struggled with her sword on two feet, surely only those skilled in riding and horsemanship could manage a hammer while on horseback.

"Sounds difficult." She was still in her own head.

Her eyes refocused on his face and she nodded, "Formidable." There was a flash of encouragement there.

The furrow returned, embedded deep between her thick brows, and she took a drink from her mug, willing the ale to fortify herself before she spoke of her past with the horseclans.

"I'm familiar, yes." Another pause. Another drink. "I spent time with the Drykas.. their lives revolve around the horse." She withheld how long she had lived with them, chagrined about how lacking her skill still was despite the years spent in the Sea of Grass. It was also evident that there was more left out from what she said. Yomila did not open up easily; her face might read like an open book but her story was one kept closed, tucked away in some dark space to collect dust.

Her pride stirred, however. At least she knew how to ride. The flicker of judgement passed over her face but it left as quickly as it came. It was surprise more than anything, but she did take comfort knowing she could best him in that as well. Her competitive nature was ever present, hawkish, looking for any chance to swoop, to strike.

The Ethaefal worked to keep her focus on him and not fall into some dark reverie as her mind drifted to her life that predated her time in Syliras. Her dark eyes glittered, intense even in the glow of the firelight that illuminated the tavern. They saw he was sitting more comfortably, the tension had seeped out of him. She tied to match it.

The surprise returned, then pity, unbidden. Her eyes were wet with it. His story was unexpected; she had imagined him with a history that began as a warrior elsewhere - Riverfall as she suggested - before he moved to Syliras. Knowing now that he had been a slave, assuming that it has been the knights who had freed him, inspiring him to join their ranks, made her see him with fresh eyes.

She took a moment to drink long and slow from her mug, affording him just as much time and privacy as she needed herself to process it all. She did not know how to approach such a topic, how to avoid missteps, how to not be subtle as a hammer with the way she had a habit of talking with such an edged bluntness. She needed to not frown and forced her lips into a tight line, instead.

"I am sorry your life started in such a fashion." This form was not used to taking such measure with her words. They fumbled out, her intention to be slow and respectful coming across all wrong.

She was genuine.

"I-" She stared at her mug, the silence bordering on uncomfortable. She lacked the skill to maneuver them through this awkward exchange yet kept trying. "I just thought... being what you are, "her hand fluttered once more, "you would have been from Riverfall." Her brow was sufficiently rumpled, stare still boring into her mug, realizing now that her narrative and how she saw the world was in need of changing. She felt the resistance within her but tried to calm it. Syliras had been nothing but newness and she needed to take everything on board. She couldn't constantly push back.

She regarded him again and considered how to steer them through this. He had initiated easy conversation between them earlier when he had chosen something they could both relate to so she weighed her options and then did her best to do the same, to offer him something else to talk about to escape where the conversation had veered off to. "I think another ale and the baths would be good for the both of us." She nudged her mug, again trying to make it seem like it was too hard a thing to lift, and favored him with another small smile.

tag: Reed
nanocount: 763

[Reed]

Reed considered the question carefully before explaining. “Think of a long steel stick with a spike on the end an you’ll not be far off from a riding hammer. Kaer, a uh- another Akalak here, showed me it once or twice. Its got a hefty swing on it from horseback.” He let that sink in before elaborating. If she was anything like him, she’d appreciate that. Reed was not a auditory learner. He needed hard examples in front of him. Ones he could act upon if he was going to get a proper understanding.

“Though I have no idea about how difficult that might be from horse. The closest I’ve ever been to wielding something like that was when I used the siding off of a house in a fight.” Reed couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. It had been an almost comical experience, even if it had been to the death as many fights were in the pit. That had shown him how to use his wits in a battle if anything else.

As the conversation carried onto the subject matter he knew far less about, Reed became quieter. More withdrawn as he thought about those great beasts. They terrified him that day they came roaring in to slay his captors. Even as they freed him, he was afraid of those hooves he saw crush the life out of a man. Fighting one of those wouldn’t be like challenging a man. An the fact they rode those while clad in full plate. Well, it wasn’t hard for him to know why he had been in awe of them after that first lasting impression.

He found himself actually encouraged by her familiarity with the animals. At least one of them was, and part of him wanted to pick her brain on them right there. Merdem consoled him to hold his tongue however. It was better that they avoided pressing the topic for now to avoid exposing his venerabilities any further. Reed was reticent to accept his opinion though he could see the wisdom in it.

Watching the expressions form across her face was far more interesting. They always were when a rare occasion found him sitting across someone. Usually there was little room in his mind other that to study where they might strike next. An while that partially carried over to their conversation right now, there was also a sincere curiosity to his gaze as he leaned slightly forward. He took a sip from his tankard just as something to do, but didn’t drain more than a small sip.

He didn’t know what he expected to see there when he told part of his story. The good part, the one that didn’t paint him as a monster. It felt almost.. Good seeing what he perceived to be a sympathetic gaze. Immediately he felt the guilt of not having expressed the whole truth. The part of his tale that made this whole turning him into a knight a dubious prospect. A doubt so large that he had to train hard every day to escape it. An the good feeling withered in his breast just like that, wicked away into nothingness. Hollow now, he took another drink.

“Maybe its for the best. I ended up here after all.” Reed shrugged with a dry grin as he emptied the rest of his mug. He was beginning to feel untethered once more, and that was seldom a good sign. Her suggestion was a welcome one, an he gravitated readily to it.

“I think you are right. I certainly could use the respite.” Reed said as he signaled the barmaid over, and waited for her to bring another set of mugs. He looked over at Yomi casually as he sought a way to feel the lull.

“I’m sure we’ve all had parts of our lives that we would sooner like to forget. That is why the Knighthood is special. It is a place to come where we can shed that old skin, and live for something outside of ourselves. Creating a new life full of a purpose that is unburdened by those past ties. That’s what I’ve settled on at least.” His voice started to trail off towards the end as he gradually grew more embarrassed. He was normally not this talkative but something about their spar had struck a cord with him. An he felt comfortable with someone that seemed to share the same values with him.

When the tankards came, he was a little more intense about downing it. Tipping it over, he drank smartly from it till the mug was dry. An then without that to occupy his lips or mind, he set it down gingerly, looking almost at a loss before his mind settled back on the baths.

“That water will be a kindness.” He said, adding to whatever conversation had followed his proselytizing and slowly stood up while counting out a few mizas onto the table to cover their drinks. “I don’t know about you but I do some of my best thinking there.” Reed hesitated a moment as he leaned against the table. He almost admitted meeting little Nikali there which would have been more than he was ready to explain at this point. More than he was willing to do even, as it would no doubt require him to show her the little figurine who tended to talk more than she should. No, that was something he was going to keep to himself for now.

His eyes met hers and then darted for the door. “Shall we go?”

[Yomila]

Akalak. The word was familiar and the knowledge of why came at her quick. That was the connection she was trying to make; Riverfall was where the Akalaks were. The man before her was one of those men, with his hued skin and pink eyes. Hearing him describe the weapon and knowing now what he was, she saw that it was fitting although she still struggled to visualize it and would need to see it to truly appreciate what it was.

"It doesn't sound as unwieldy as I first thought." She favored him with a quick, laudatory glance across his broad shoulders, the muscles built around his thicker neck, "you sound as if you have handled your fair share of weapons so that, at least, puts you at something of an advantage." Her dark eyes glittered with appreciation, respect as they returned to his own.

She could not say the same about herself. Up until taking up the broad sword and shield, she had only used Tyak's shortbow and she knew she could not say she was familiar with it. He, however, seemed to have years of experience fighting, of taking up anything that was accessible to him. It was a respectable ability, to adapt and do what one needed to in order to achieve ones end. Or ones survival. Her feelings were reflected in her dark, expressive eyes.

She downed more ale as she considered his predicament. "Familiarizing yourself with your horse is a good starting point. Or," she smirked, thinking of how the knighthood handled their stable, "familiarizing yourself with whichever horse they assign to you." She had observed that those in charge of the stables had a good eye for placing squires with horses that fit their skill level. "Which horse do you usually ride?" She did not extend herself further. Did not offer assistance. In truth, she was still struggling to adapt to the equipment the knights used for riding. Her time with the Drykas had left her only with knowledge of the yvas; the bulky saddles and tack were new and unfamiliar and had knocked her own confidence.

"Get yourself comfortable with your horse. The get yourself comfortable with the weapon. Once you've achieved both then you marry the two." It seemed simple enough but the Ethaefal knew that was not always the case. The knight who had assisted her in picking her chosen weapons out had given her similar advice: get used to one and then the other before trying to wield both at the same time.

Her brow frowned as the conversation had continued but her lips remained neutral if not turned up at the corners. He spoke of things she didn't understand. Siding from a house? His tone and the chuckle that followed made her think this must have been quite the feat. She considered this. The story was one she would like to hear about. A smile was present after his hearty rumble and her eyes were hungry. Tell me everything, they begged. Her words were less eager but encouraging. "Ripped it off?" she asked tentatively, "there is a story there..." she left it open, inviting him to share if he wanted. Then, tone bordering on playful, "were you holding yourself back earlier?" A brow raised.

The Ethaefal had not expected to see him doubt himself or his path after the conversation had turned to his past as a slave. "I think it is most certainly for the best." The heat was back in her words. If it was shame he was feeling about his past then she would not abide it. He had said - and said in such a way that made her pause and drain her mug thoughtfully - the knighthood was a place for all races and creeds, all backgrounds, a place for many to start again. Then why did he not believe he was worthy of being included? Her look was incredulous.

"As you say, it is a place for many to seek a new life, a rebirth... I see that very fitting for a former slave to find their way into a new life there."

Her thoughts turned suddenly. Was he apprehensive because he missed his life as a slave? Yomila was not that familiar with slavery. The Drykas were not immune to it, to slavers and their caravans. But Yomila, herself, had never been affected. She struggled to understand something she had no experience with despite having enough understanding to know she was against it. How could she understand a slave's psyche? She, a creature so hellbent on being free? A creature who had never felt the yolk of another's ownership on her shoulders? It bothered her that someone could take comfort in being shackled, in being property. She could not empathize with such a notion.

She could not see how the man before her, all might and tenacity and brimming with life, could harbor such beliefs. Her stare was intense again as she got lost in these thoughts.

The new mugs of ale that came were a welcome reprieve from them. From where the conversation had gone again. She hoped she had not been too insensitive with her words. She couldn't help wanting to push this man into seeing in himself what she saw. The Ethaefal might barely know him but she could sense his mettle. Sense that he was a survivor. What she saw was someone she could come to regard highly.

She was left to ponder this, staring into the fresh mug of ale and she considered her feelings. She wondered if it was the intensity of the spar that left her feeling so appreciative of him; the way he handled himself and conceded to her queries when she presented them. How he hadn't pushed her to do anything she hadn't wanted to or put her into any situations that made her uncomfortable. Few in her past had been so patient and considerate, so genuinely courteous.

She drained her mug as he did and then followed his motions, collecting her armaments as he removed payment. There were questions still in her head. She nodded in assent and then led them out.

It was during the walk towards the baths that she decided she would be the one to cover payment for this round. She did not push for further conversation until they were in the baths, only lifted her brows in question as she procured some coins from her person to pay for the both of them, "The public pool amenable?" She would be open to paying the extra coin for a private pool if it was his preference.

tag: Reed
nanocount: 1,108

[/quote]

[Reed]

Reed nodded in agreement. Having seen the weapon in action he knew how deadly it could be in capable hands. Especially against armored opponents.

“More than a few certainly.” Reed said while giving her a look. He could certainly appreciate someone who could identify with what he was saying, but it was an odd experience. Almost uncomfortable. She seemed herself to be no stranger to combat and that interested him. Her experience was undoubtedly beyond just practice given her demeanor. There was a grit to her that didn’t come to someone that had an easy life up until this point.

Studying her mollified his mood, making him more receptive to hear out her ideas on his horse problem. A problem he was steadily dreading ever having shared with her. He made a mental note to avoid announcing his failings in the future. It made his insides squirm hearing them discussed so openly. He clenched his jaw.

“A big one.” He said. Reed followed it with a short, forced laugh before looking around to see if anyone was eying their table. It was fine to be judged by an equal but he didn’t know if he could stomach it if he caught another sneering at him. “I don’t know horses, but I will learn. Eventually.” Reed said. His tone making it clear that he was also inclined to continue the conversation with a new topic.

Reed was a bit ambivalent about talking about the pits. A lot of the stuff he did then went against everything the knights taught so naturally he mostly kept those stories to himself. However, she was an outsider like himself. New to the ways of these knights and could perhaps could draw a bit of humor out of his story like he did. Looking at her reaction, he decided to go ahead with the story.

“It was a rare fight. One put on for a birthday party. We were in an alley, me and three other guys. Last one standing wins the pot. In the center of us was a poker and a club. Skinny guy to my left got hold of the poker just in time for the other guy across to club him. I went for a loose board on the house beside me and as I was ripping it loose I managed to pull of the bottom seal with it. So I dropped the board and grabbed the big hunk of wood they had been using as siding, an I launched it at the guy with the club. Hit him square in the face. Then I caught the other guy as he tried to run away.” He said, but that wasn’t the whole tale. The fight had been screwed in his favor from the start. Those men had been starved while he ate well right up until the day of the fight. A quick death was the only kindness he could have offered him, but the Daggerhands like to draw things out for their birthday parties. It left a bitter taste in his mouth telling the story that way.

Lifting his empty mug to his lips, he spit as quietly as he could before setting the tankard down. A habit he’d been trying to kick that came with speaking evil, but some habits were harder to break. His eyes fixed on the woman across the table from him. He felt a pang of guilt meeting her eyes after telling that half truth, though it was better than the alternative.

He’d almost forgotten her question. “I was not holding back however. You beat me fair. These weapons are yet unfamiliar to me. I am used to using my hands and other tools.” Reed said. He shot her a quick grin as he suddenly found the table top very interesting.

The new mugs came and he was left to reflect on her following statement. The one that concerned his journey her. Had the knights not came that day he would likely still be fighting, or dead. Probably the former as they often didn’t waste exotic talent on fights like that. An for a long time that is all he viewed himself as. A face to drive up the bets one way only for him to beat the ‘odds’. Sham fights without any honor to them.

“A new life indeed.” Reed said. He’d savored the moment those knights had come slaying the men who planned to take him to Ravok. It was also partly that which inspired him to adopt the weapons he did, as if wielding them would be almost like he’d driven in the blade himself even though he hadn’t been up to the task at the time. Beaten nearly senseless, watching the carnage had been all he could do from his cage. He didn’t have to worry about a cage anymore.

Eventually the conversation moved forward to the baths as they took their leave of the tavern. The journey was not long, an soon they were walking down the stairs to the baths.

“Public is fine by me” Reed said, his voice subdued now with pending relaxation so close. After they’d settled up with the attendant, he went over to the changing room to strip out of his armor. Which became quickly problematic as he remembered he usually had a second along for this. He cast a look around the room before he started trying to unstrap the armor on his own. Expectantly, he ran into a problem trying to undo the cuirass which only went on for seven or so chimes before an attendant took pity on him and helped him with the straps.

Embarrassed, Reed simply nodded his thanks as he put up the armor in a locker before heading out to the pool with a towel in hand. Seeing the corners mainly occupied by groups, Reed took a spot in the middle as he dipped into the pool. Then as the relief sunk in he closed his eyes. Reed sank into the water till he was neck deep. Sighing, he reveled in the weightlessness for a moment before remembering Yomilla. He looked around casually for his fellow squire while grabbing a bar of soap from the edge of the pool.

[Yomila]

The ale helped. When combined with the strenuous activity from earlier, it ground down her defences and made her more welcoming of the conversation at hand. Not that the conversation was unwelcomed; she was a difficult woman, all prickles, bristles and claws, and it helped to have something that smoothed and dulled her sharp edges.

Reed was less difficult - or so her experience with him so far had led her to believe - which was fortunate for the both of them. He had proven himself a helpful sparring partner earlier and now she was realizing he made decent company as a drinking partner.

Not that their conversation had been without its bumps and hiccups.

She noticed how they both struggled in many of the same areas and it dawned on her then what it was she felt in his presence, what it was that made her feel so comfortable sitting across from him, even as they trundled through the touchy subject of slavery.

He made her feel like she was an equal.

It was a fuzzy feeling, warm and satisfying. Or perhaps that was the ale hitting her.

Either way, she had laughed unexpectedly when he spoke of the horse and then listened openly as he indulged her in the story she had wanted to hear. She had not edged for more, sensing that was all he was going to say when he spat in his mug.

That thing inside her that had so often seized her tightly in its grip vanished when he grinned. She wasn’t sure if it had been the grin itself or the words that preceded it that warmed her, but she glowed either way. The Ethaefal in her loved to preen and she had taken those words as a compliment.

Her shirt and silence clung to her now that she was in the baths, an attendant picking apart the puzzle that was her plate. She did not regard them, instead favoring her hair with her undivided attention and tugged her long fingers through the sweat matted tangles at her temples and the base of her skull. She fastidiously stowed her armor and armaments away once able to do so and then undressed.

She freed her hair of the braid it was bound in, covered herself in a towel and headed out to meet her fellow squire, the humidity of the place wrapping her in a soothing embrace once she was out in the wet area.

The Ethaefal did not have to look hard to find the man. His skin made him stand out like a sore thumb. She tugged the towel away and folded it, baring herself and all the imperfections that defined this form to those around her. Her windmarks were bold, sweeping up an arm to a shoulder and collarbone on one side and up her leg to her hip and back on the other, hooking dangerously around the curve, the top bitten into by a series of thick, raised scars that continued up the soft indentation of her stomach between hip and rips. She swept a hand down them unselfconsciously and then slipped slowly into the water across from him, knees bending, body sinking down until the water was at her shoulders. She paused and closed her eyes, savoring the feel with a long, deep inhale, then dipped fully beneath the surface.

There was no sound here, just silence. Warmth. Peace. It enveloped her fully. She remained suspended beneath, balls of her feet barely touching the floor, and let the warmth seep into her. Her legs thrummed and she took stock of the ticking sensation in her thighs and hips and a part in her back that felt wound up tight as a spring. Her arms felt leady, pulsing with muscle tension from earlier. It was a good feeling, even if she knew she would be stiff and sore tomorrow.

She resurfaced as slowly as she had dunked, hands pushing back over her dark wet hair. She wicked water from her eyes and then settled then on his face as she moved lazily through the pool towards him, chin hovering just above the water's surface and face wreathed in steam. Her eyes roamed him leisurely. The water distorted all but his face and the tops of his shoulders, sending magenta strips here and there around his body. The water's glassy surface reflected the glow of the lamplight in a way that further hid him, doing the same to her own frame.

She did note a hint of ink around one shoulder. Suspected more around a section of his chest, a patch above his heart looking darker than the rest of his skin.

She said nothing for a long while, enjoying both the weightless feeling and the sight of him, both so different from anything she had experienced before coming to this city.

At last, her dark eyes flickered, found his own pink ones. "I'm not sure if I should be grateful or offended that you've not asked any questions of me," she said, emphasis falling heavily on the last word. In truth, she appreciated it. Liked that he seemed to respect her distance enough to not pry. However, she couldn't help wondering.. "am I that uninteresting?" There was a grin in her voice.

She sank a bit deeper, chin submerging as her arms threaded lazy figure eights through the water at her sides. She tilted her head back enough for her chin to rise above the surface and said, "It's a funny thing.. Sunberth makes me think it would be a nice place.. but your description is anything but. It sounds rough." It sounds like somewhere I'd like to avoid. She let that hang if he wanted to add to it and then finished, "How does Syliras compare?" Knowing now how different Endrykas was from Syliras, she wondering how this city looked from his different point of view.

tag: Reed
nanocount: 987

[Reed]

After what he’d seen of Yomila so far, her boldness did not surprise him. However her tattoos did. They were far more intricate than anything that decorated his body, and covered a lot of skin. Following those lines of black ink around the curves of her body, Reed noticed a few scars as well. Prominent lines that spoke of a painful history. An given her tenacity, he was sure that she had given plenty of scars in return.

Reed touched his chest gently. Feeling the raised skin underneath the black lines. His scars and ink had a history too. None of it proud. In Sunberth there were two reasons you got a brand on your flesh. You were a slave, or you were in a gang, which was sort of like slavery in its own way. The tattoo on his shoulder was from his first master, the ones across his chest belonged to his second. The second had been a far kinder man than his first one had been, however that wasn’t saying much. That man once kept him chained up in a mineshaft for several nights when he’d thrown his food at the house slave.

It was strange that those times felt so close when he looked at her. She did not look like any Sunberthians he had known yet she reminded him of them all the same. The good ones, the men and women that strive to survive on the fringes of the city. Those at least were people with a shred of honor to him. The only ones he could remember almost fondly when he thought about that wretched city.

She was quiet now, which suited him alright. He was almost lost in thought watching her submerge into the water, his soap hanging forgotten in his grip till she completely submerged. Then the spell was broken. Reed blinked. Slowly he adjusted so his back was pressed against the tile, and he started scrubbing with the bar along his shoulders.

He caught her out of the corner of his eye when she resurfaced. Yomila approached him sedately through the water. Quietly. Perhaps enjoying the quiet ambiance of the place like he was. Or the latent warmth of the pool that sapped away the pain in his limbs. This was probably the best part of his day. When he could just relax, and wash off the trials of his day in such a comfortable environment. A lot different than the cold pail of dirty water he had grown accustomed to.

Reed stopped scrubbing hearing her question. A soft smile touched his features for a tick and then he set the bar of soap aside before dipping into the warm water up to his neck.

“Quite the opposite, but in Sunberth we have a saying. If you go asking questions about interesting people, you’re asking for the wrong kind of interest in yourself.” Reed said, raising back up out of the water till it was just below his clavicle. Propping his elbows up on the side of the pool, Reed took in a deep breath before continuing.

“Though I suppose there is room to maneuver with that.” Reed said, meeting her eyes carefully. “How long have you been in Syliras?” It was a question he almost hesitated to ask, even if it was amongst the most mundane of the questions he had about this woman. Asking questions of someone was not in his nature, an so they all tended to feel intrusive at first glance. An part of him, that part of him that still felt like he was a slave was more than a bit cautious of potential reprisals from an errant tongue.

Not that he saw a slave master when he looked into her dark eyes. Instead he saw a woman with the world in her gaze, and a body that had known the road. That would have been plain to him even if he hadn’t seen the scars. The bold way she walked. The way she approached questions head on. This was a woman with something interesting to hide. A notion he found slightly comforting as he didn’t meet many of the sort in this city of order.

His face mellowed somewhat at the conversation continued. “A cruel jest that name. If anything divine was birthed in that open sore of a city, it certainly was no sun. I actually had it easier than some. I was a prized fighter because of my.. Unique appearance so I was usually spared the worst treatment. Others. Many others were not so lucky. In Sunberth you could die just because you said hello to the wrong person.” Reed said, taking in a deep breath before sinking slowly into the water. When it was at his chin he stopped his decent and stretched his arms out further along the edge of the pool.

“Syliras is everything Sunberth is not. It gives me hope that one day Sunberth can improve as well, though I’m not holding my breath to think that I’ll see that in my lifetime.” Reed said, and forced out a light laugh as he looked at Yomila. Watched her face in an effort to try and determine how she felt about all of this. He wasn’t accustomed to sharing so much.

“How are you finding Syliras so far?” Reed said after a moment of hesitation. It was on his tongue to ask about where she had come from but it was not in his heart to ask that just yet. He wasn’t of the mind to press the conversation in such a vaguely personal way, instead finding comfort in superficial questions. The Sunberthian way.

“It has taken some getting used to being closed in these walls. Clad in stone, and wood, so deep beneath it all that the sky seems so far away. I didn’t like it at first.” Reed said, admitting his feelings about the city readily as he pushed gently off the side of the pool, sliding gently past Yomila till he was towards the center of the pool. Turning towards her, he passed an amused look. “Eventually one morning I woke up, and I didn’t mind it anymore. It simply was what it was, and I think I am better off for it.” He said, and met her eyes as he watched to see what she was going to say.

[Yomila]

The Sunberthian saying hung in the air between them, a spectre of Reed's past. The Ethaefal considered his words carefully and arched her dark brows, expression easily read, a mixture of understanding and pity: No one should live in that kind of fear.

A vision of the city was slowly being etched in Yomila's mind, parts being added to it with each new insight Reed offered her. It was a terrible thing, ugly and dark. It was pain, fear and bondage. It bled of crime and desperation, of struggle and the harrowing lengths people would go to for survival. How anyone survived such a place, let alone lived there willingly, was beyond her. Her feelings were open and laid bare to him, the evidence plain upon her face as to how she felt about the life he had been freed from. She could not hide them, especially not in this form. She didn't realize she didn't want to, didn't feel the need to. Trust was burgeoning between them and it felt natural to let him see.

There was more there: a glimmer of gratitude, joy. Appreciation for his journey and that he chose to share parts of it with her; for the opportunity to see someone transform, to overcome such a past. Soft and subdued as this was, it was there, staring out at him beneath the rest.

Her eyes broke away, turning her intense black gaze to the markings on his shoulder, further exposed as he settled higher against the ledge of the bath. It sat in her mind, like a footnote. She had to ask about it later, once it felt natural to, once the conversation led them there. Her need to push was dying slowly and, although the embers still glowed, still had nails to sink into him, she spared him for now, content to let the conversation flow on a more natural course until her curious and demanding nature made her poke and probe it in a different direction.

There was hesitation there when he turned the question back on her and she took some delight in making him wait as she sunk back down, dipping below the surface once more. She propelled herself backwards as she went to surface once more, still moving in the lazy speed that had drawn her close, and walked herself backwards towards where she had entered.

"Less than a season," she said before reaching the far side of the bath. She collected her own bar of soap and a small cloth and began the slow drift back towards him.

She left it there, the way she spoke, her tone, all making it evident there would be no elaborating on her part. As much as it had seemed she was asking to share things with him, probing him to ask questions of her, she still seemed no closer to sharing extensive details. With regard to her time in Syliras and what had brought her here, she knew she would rather not revisit that story. Tyak's death was still fresh in her mind and she still felt his loss keenly.

In a bid to avoid his eyes and hide her face and the emotions she knew this thought brought to it, she tilted her head down and away and focused on spanning the soap along her windmarked shoulder, lifting her right arm to run the bar down its length. Swapping the soap and towel, she began to scrub thoroughly, buffing away the grime that sweat left behind.

Moving her attention to her other arm, she regarded him once more. "You make it sound like you were only valued and spared a worse life because you were useful." Again she considered him, his words, mulling over the dreadful situation he had been in, "It sounds terrible." She didn't need to be told what would have happened if his masters had suddenly didn't find him useful, it was easy enough to connect the dots. Death. It was sounding like the most common fate for the average Sunberthian.

She stilled her motions and drifted closer, using the tips of her toes to propel her gently off to his right, bringing that tattoo more into focus. "I highly doubt that is possible, based on what you've told me." She appreciated the ounce of hope he mixed in with his realism but she did not share his sentiments. She could not see a city that had grown to be so much like he described Sunberth to be to ever change or improve. It sounded beyond saving. Something stirred in her, as if she shouldn't be thinking such a thing, but she ignored it.

She ran the rag along her throat and then back under an ear, scrubbing at the base of her skull. She considered all he had said, welcoming his openness and the expansive way he had spoken. The comfort she felt in his presence remained as she reflected on what she now knew of Sunberth and how it related to Endrykas, to Syliras. Knowing now what she did, things began to make more sense about him. His own evasiveness. The way he had moved and fought. It helped her to see him clearer. However, it also had the negative side effect of self-reflection.

Her own life felt so tame in comparison.

As much as the agony of her fall and all that had transpired since hurt her, pained her, she had been spared any true physical pain.

Tyak had sheltered her from so much.

It all suddenly felt wrong. Her anguish. This victimhood she clung to since her fall.

Had she truly had is so easy?

Her eyes flitted once more, wet and pained and desperate to avoid his own. She dunked suddenly.

There was an urge to scream but she bit it back and focus on all those years she had hurt. Surely this hurt was justified. But it was nothing like what Reed had experience, that peril, that desperation. Her eyes stung, hot even without the bath's water pressing against her. Her pride made her force them back.

She resurfaced slowly and inhaled a long, deep breath before wiping the water from her eyes. The Ethaefal was stalling, taking her time, swapping the soap and towel into one hand so the other could smooth back over her hair as she fought for words, fought to keep her voice steady.

"Syliras is... different." She was aloof again, falling back on her natural inclination to keep her distance. There was more to add. It is so enclosed. "I'm not used to walls. To solid... things.. above my head. But it is safe," she conceded. There was a strange sense of freedom that came with safety. With being able to wander about on her lonesome, knowing there was no threat to her person just from stepping outside the boundary of her home. The danger he had experienced over his lifetime differed from the one she knew. The danger lurking in the Sea of Grass was a natural one, one that all things in life experience. Predation. Exposure. None of which could be found here, at least within the city walls.

He was on a similar train of thought and what he said next blindsided he and his amused look met a pained one.

Oh how she missed the sky.

"I- I feel so suffocated here. Buried. So-" her voice broke and she furiously schooled her features, eyes fixing on the shoulder that had held her previous interest. They slid shut and she sank down until her nose barely hovered above the surface. Against her better judgement, she shut her eyes even tighter as a shudder ran through her.

Ticks passed before she finally tilted her chin back enough to bring her face above the water, eyes hesitantly finding his own, sad and remorseful.

"I don't think I will ever get used to it," she admitted. "I want to," her voice had dropped, earnest in such a way that it hurt to hear, "I fear I won't. I feel so far away. So disconnected."

Her cheeks burned from shame. From exposing herself in such a way. From being so weak. She lacked the energy to fight it and waited for his judgement to follow as she straightened, trying to find the control she lacked in her emotions in her body.

tag: Reed
nanocount: 1,399