[The Rearing Stallion] Playing the Game (Closed)

[Vizyous Aconitum]

3rd of Spring, 511 AV, Vizyous was seated nearby the hearth, it's flames warm and much appreciated as the weather was still far from hot. The glow of the fire scarcely illuminated his pale face, the table he sat at positioned more to the side of it, off towards the wall. In front of him was a mug of light ale which he sparingly sipped on, missing the taste of Alvadas wine, his tongue unused to the harshness of the beer despite it being pale. The Symenestra's clothes were still tattered from the city from which he'd came, held together by carefully placed knots rather than stitches. The dark red shirt that clung tight to his chest had numerous stains, sleeves that once reached his wrists ripped, frayed. The paleness of his skin exposed by the tears was only highlighted by the flickering of the fire, the long strands of cobweb gray hair that fell wavy and tangled to his stomach appearing, for once, silver in color. Despite Vizyous' unkempt appearance, his bright, amethyst eyes kept a careful watch on those in the tavern, looking for someone that caught his interest. The city of Syliras, itself, bored him, but perhaps the people within it could entertain him for the night. A playful, friendly smile rested on his lips that was inviting, charming even. It was a practiced expression, one that directed another's gaze more towards his eyes, away from his long, dark claws and equally long limbs.

[Rovan Dermane]

Rovan Dermane entered the tavern quietly, slithering inside as a coiling serpent to avoid attention of the most boistrous of patrons. He stood close by the wall and connected the sleeves of his large robe infront of him, taking in a brief overview of the place and its various people. Observing through slightly squinted eyes, Rovan spotted one who did not seem to be in a group. The figure was sitting calmly in his stool, with a playful expression on his face as he seemed to take in the view of the place as well. It puzzled him why this man would dare look so inviting with no one else seemingly keeping him company. The scholar came to the conclusion that this man might very well be one of those deceiving gamblers who made cheating an artform. It would perhaps explain why most seemed wise to steer clear of him. He stroked his goatee in thought before he took his decision; a sly gambler would probably be better to approach, than any of the loud and empty-headed people by the bar. He stepped around the tables and stools slowly, as he neared the seated man.

[Vizyous Aconitum]

A figure came into view that seemed to blend into the crowd with impressive ease. His clothing was dark and slightly telling of a suspicious individual, yet his styled hair and goatee gave him the image of a gentleman. The man was of an age older than him, and when Vizyous saw that he was definitely headed towards the empty seat across from him, the Symenestra merely rested an arm against the table and his chin on his palm. It wasn't the company he was expecting, but it would be challenging and interesting company indeed, the man having something about him that demanded respect. Vizyous was never one to give respect to those who demanded it, but that would make it all the more fun. He took a sip of the alcohol in his glass while he waited for the man to come closer, amethyst eyes locking with the man's as he neared.

[Rovan Dermane]

He passed by a man laughing loudly, ignoring the presence of the hearty patron completely as the man made an unclear remark in his direction. Rovan met the gaze of the stranger with a small nod as he approached, before opening his palm questionly at the empty stool. "May I sit here?" he asked with an articulated voice, as if making each word in the simple question a persuasive tone of music.

[Vizyous Aconitum]

The man's nod was met with one of his own and a swift sip of alcohol. Always small sips, Vizyous remembered, lest he drink too fast and become a drunk again. "Why not?" The Symenestra offered, smile not faltering from his face even as he recognized the tone of the man's voice. What the stranger had in store for him, he wasn't entirely sure, but likely it wasn't simple chatter. The man was well groomed and spoke articulately, contrasting sharply with the Symenestra's unkempt state and casual voice. Vizyous wouldn't change the way he presented himself until he found reason to, though, continuing to give the impression of a lone person merely wanting some company. "Nilvisin Nightshade," he introduced himself with a careful extending of his hand, turning his hand in a way that would conceal the sharpness of his claws from the man, "and you are...?" Since leaving Kalea where Symenestra were more common, Vizyous found it was useful to give fake names so that it was harder to keep track of him lest some hero determined he was sinister try and find him. The beauty of the names he chose was that they were equally feminine and masculine in his culture, making it even harder for his own kind to track him. As for who Nilvisin Nightshade was, the Symenestra wasn't sure, but he thought maybe a traveling scholar would have such a name and stuck to that idea.

[Rovan Dermane]

Pushing back his cloak gingerly to avoid sitting on it, Rovan sat down in the stool before the man. As the man seemed to keep a smile on him, Rovan curled a brief, coy smirk in regard. He had learned to meet smugness with smugness in return, rather than show unnerve. Although this person seemed pleasant enough, Rovan could not help but feel there was something beneath the open and welcoming manner. Perhaps he himself was starting to grow a paranoid nature. As the man introduced himself Rovan took a moment of breath, mindful of not making a hasty response. "I, am Rovan Dermane. Mm-pleasure to make your aquintance, sir Nightshade." Rovan had to speak clearly to overcome the noise and bustle of the tavern. He dusted off on his robe absent-mindedly in another small pause. "How come, you are sitting here by yourself? Are you awaiting someone, per chance?" He asked as he swept off the last invisible dust off his garments, hoping the open question could help him decrypt this man's behavior better before engaging himself further in conversation.

[Vizyous Aconitum]

The dusting the man did to brush seemingly nonexistent dirt from his clothes seemed to bring even more attention to the carefulness with which he spoke. Rovan's words were patiently voiced, his grin looking almost mischievous to Vizyous. "Travel always leaves me tired and aching for a tavern." "If I was awaiting someone in particular, it's likely I would have denied you that seat." The Symenestra pointed out, leaning back into his chair but keeping his arms resting atop the table. He wondered how the man would have reacted if he had been denied the chair across from him. "No," Vizyous exhaled, "I just awaited company, and it seems company has arrived."

[Rovan Dermane]

Rovan turned his head up to regard the man for a moment. He found the man's behavior to be quite casual and a little teasing, perhaps a put-on facade to seem unaffected by the world. Rovan judged this attitude to be a healthy choice in a noisy tavern like this, filled with so many cocksure and unpredictable men. He nodded slowly to himself, placing his elbows on the table and connecting his palms infront of him, rubbing his hands. It took him another second or two to formulate his next sentence, as if he was coming to the matter at hand. "I see, I see. Very well, as it is I may as well get to the point. I am on a search for individuals of a very particular quality. Personas with a certain level of - promise, in valor and prowess. Now, you may not be local, but I would deem you to have spent more time here in this city than I have," he said, putting on another artistic pause as he eyed Vizyous with an inspective gaze. It was perhaps a little forward, he thought, but he saw no other way than asking a stranger when he scarcely knew anyone in the city. "So I was wondering, if your eyes might have set upon one such potentional soul - or if your ears mayhap, had heard of a heroic and still-living figure within these walls?"

[Vizyous Aconitum]

"Within these walls, no," Vizyous gestured to their surroundings with a hand, then placed it back upon the table, "perhaps a knight would be able to give you a better lead, I'm sure that one will stumble into here eventually if they already haven't." Wanting to keep the man's attention, the Symenestra leaned closer into the table, "However, outside of these walls, in the grasslands of Cyphrus, I'm sure there are many heroes." With that, Vizyous reclined into his chair once again, tilting his head as if to inspect the man. His eyes clearly looked Rovan over, gaze returning to his face only once he was sure that his inspection must have been noticed. "That is, not to suggest that the knights of Syliras are any less honorable, but the walls of this city are very confining and secure, aren't they?" With a glance, Vizyous saw that his glass was nearly empty, nodding in answer to his own question. "The grasslands hold much more danger and peril..." A small smirk of his own surfaced, "... although, it seems you may not be from around here, either...?" The unspoken question was an attempt at learning from where Rovan came, perhaps even questioning whether the man was as civil and gentlemanly as he presented himself.

[Rovan Dermane]

Rovan sat pondering. It was true what the man said: the city kept out many dangers that otherwise could invoke heroism. The grasslands were reputed by its nomadic population, its people always on the move every season. Famed as they were for their excellent horses and warriors, Rovan had found the risk of loosing his way in its immense fields to be too great. Unless he had a permanent cohort, he alone would feel rather exposed outside the confines of civilisation. He leapt out of his own thoughts again, as the answer suddenly turned to become a question directed at him. When Vizyous, or rather "Nightshade", asked him where he came from, he was taken by surprise. He had not expected others to figure out that he came from elsewhere than Syliras so quickly. The thought that he so cleary radiated of being a foreigner troubled him. Was it the way he dressed, or the way he behaved? He put the thought aside temporarily, as it only helped confusing him. Perhaps this person was simply rather canny with interpretating people - a skill even he himself loved to take pride in. He raised a finger to his brow, tapping his own temple in a gesture of marking Vizyous' cunning. "You are quite perceptive, my friend. 'Tis true, I hail from elsewhere, though not far from here. Zeltiva is my home." He answered. "But alone the journey from there to here was a harrowing one. Dear me - I dare not think of how it would be to travel to the Grasslands!" Rovan chuckled lightly, stroking back a few loosened strands of hair from his face.