It's a Spoke's Life, Ent It?

Meeting Sarinah and Tristaan

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Tristaanian Greymoore
Posts: 176
Joined: Wed Mar 28, 2018 7:02 pm
Topics: 15
Race: Passive
Location: Old Rose Harbor
: Ever th' balach.
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Fri Aug 24, 2018 3:47 pm

2nd of Roalis, 2718
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Tristaan's smile faltered as the two witches made comments about things that were outside of his abilities, their conversation turning to magic and the mona that had shunned him from birth. He chewed the inside of his cheek, hearing Aziza's questions and Sarinah's easy dismissal. Effortless as far as he was concerned, even if the results hadn't been as intended. No one had died. The control was within both of the women's reach, control he couldn't—he wouldn't ever—have, and they spoke of it so lightly that he could only stand there and attempt not to look helpless.

Tucking the his little tin box back into a pocket, he chose to keep his mouth shut.

Talk of tribes he could follow, even the desert tribes of Mugroba. He'd been there, though only to Thul Ka once. Most of his contact with the other Kingdom had been with the Muluku Isles for the Bad Brothers, "Th' festival's worth seein' at least once as tekaa. There's folks from all over who come—y'd be surprised but plenty o' Mugs make it t' Surwood."

Tristaan found his voice in conversation about fami, considering the Red Crow were all he knew as such. Sarinah's caution about Old Rose Harbor wasn't unwarranted, but the pair were exceptions, not the rule. He owed Hawke his service and Sarinah owed the King her body, and here they were far from where they had once been held captive in very different ways,

"Th' Harbor ent bad save for th' Brothers, oes. M'haps y' ent on th' wrong side 'f 'em so y' ent got th' same bias as folks like us." He smirked, the tone of his voice almost deadpan in his admission, but he rolled his narrow shoulders in a dismissive shrug. It'd been well over two months and no one had come looking for them yet, so perhaps they weren't in as much trouble as he'd assumed, "Crossin' th' King ent usually a good thing, ye chen."

He took his cup of tea with the flicker of a smile and finally sat down next to the lovely witch, aware that his admission only risked dredging up the divide he'd purposefully shoved between them over Vienda. They couldn't go back to the Harbor, either. The festival was over and they'd signed on with the Circus. No matter how much the dark-haired passive didn't want to see the capital, no matter how much he didn't want to be reminded of his childhood, the choice was still better than returning to the Harbor. He'd left dead bodies in his wake and stolen the woman next to him on the way out. He knew whatever was waiting for them both back in the Harbor was painful and messy, if not fatal.

"Laoso?" He chuckled, curious as to whether Nazia was simply giving her daughter a hard time or she meant it. Tristaan was reminded of Sarinah's parents, of her father's disapproval of him being associated with the Red Crow. Grey eyes lingered on the surface of his still-steaming tea, "Ent everythin' that washes ashore in th' Harbor's so bad. Jus' gotta know th' spitch from th' good stuff s'all. That's th' same everywhere anyway."

The dark-haired passive made sure his shoulder brushed the lovely witch next to him with that, offering her a brief smile.

The osta was definitely different compared to the Anaxi breed, and he watched the way she moved among those gathered around the fire, laughing at Aziza's commentary about kensers,

"Oes. Ent a bright beast, those. Nor always kind, but they get th' job done where a horse can't always." Implying that kenser were generally stronger beasts, made for burden instead of pleasure riding, built for power instead of speed. He leaned back on one palm and sipped his tea, letting his gaze wander the kint and the family, feeling that nostalgia for a spoke life tug at all the sore places inside of his scarred chest.

Simple. Mobile. Free.

He supposed he was far more tekaa than he allowed himself to be, given his sentiments on life, having no interest in ever being confined to a golly-run city ever again. With an uneasy sigh, he shared a bit of caution, quietly and with a weight to his words that revealed he knew things he shouldn't,

"If'n y' can't be dissuaded from th' Harbor, jus' be careful when y' settle there for th' season. There's been a lot more gang fightin' than normal, an' a bit o' unrest. I'm sure Hawke 'll crush it all, but take care o' yer own."
Find comfort in friends,
every wound they can mend.
Passive Proverb

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Sarinah Lissden
Posts: 139
Joined: Thu Mar 29, 2018 3:42 am
Topics: 19
Race: Wick
Location: Old Rose Harbor
: Passively invested
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Sat Aug 25, 2018 7:06 pm

Roalis 2nd, 2718
SURWOOD
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Sarinah looked at Aziza with a blank expression, before glancing at Tristaan and back again, her cheeks turning darker by the second. Were they at odds? The witch had always been so bad with magic, she just accepted that was her skill. Never once had she actually considered it could be related to her relationship with the sentient lifeforce that granted those extra abilities to wicks and galdori with the ‘touch’.

“I uh…I ent…” The witch tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly full of self doubt and concern. Had it always been like this? Or had it only been like this since leaving home? Ne, it had always been like this.

“I don’t think we’re at odds? Ent ever been fair at all this voodundun, da and daoa said it were just a matter of practice, but ent got any better. Maybe we just ent compatible, ye chen?” Her dark eyes drifted to Tristaan with another small smile, knowing that frankly her unsteady casting ability was nothing to complain about compared with his situation. The conversation made her feel awkward and uneasy, so she was thankful when the conversation moved on. Nazia’s sad words filled Sarinah with sympathy, seeing the tears threatening to come and Aziza’s quick movement away from the topic.

“Epaemo for ye loss rosh.” She said softly, wanting to ask more about how but unwilling to continue such a sad topic. If the two women wanted to share, she would listen. The witch knew of the plague in Mugroba, perhaps it was one and the same. A horrific disease the sailors said, eating mind and body both. Fortunately, the moment passed quickly, and the olive skinned Yellow Eye couldn’t stop the smile creeping back.

“Oes, agree with the kov here. I ent seen the festival for five maw, but it were just as amazing as I remember. I wish we’d had more time to enjoy it. Ent any better onna-stick in the whole of vita. Or…Anaxas at least.” The brunette smiled a little more broadly, her gaze a little far away as she remembered the fantastically simple yet utterly delicious snack. She’d not had one for so long, that she’d forgotten how amazing they were. With their tidbits of meat or vegetables, sometimes hingle or garmon, sometimes questionable in origin and safety for consumption but oh so utterly morish.

Her musings on the wonderfulness of onna-stick were broken by the passives remarks on the Rose, and the dancer couldn’t help but let her smile fall. The harbor was awful, horrible, filled with the worst of Anaxas and owned by the King. Even what little good had come from the place, she had found with blood and tears and fear. Ne, there was nothing good in that town. As the grey eyed man brushed her shoulder gently with his, Sarinah looked at him with a polite smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Picking up the tea as it was offered, she nodded to the Mugrobi witch, her thoughts turning pensive as they continued to talk. Clearly there was a history in the Rose for Aziza and her mother, Sarinah tsking at the mention of gollies. Self entitled kensers erses. Her brown eyes followed the osta as it came over, chuckling as it leaned into Aziza’s touch.

“She’s a sight prettier than the Anaxi ones, or at least, different. I heard they’re good companions, cleverer than anyone realises oes?” As Nazia defended the kenser, the brunette chuckled at Aziza’s defiant affirmation that the beast was as dumb as a stump, her heart delighting in Tristaans laughter.

“Our kenser, or rather my daoa’s kenser wasn’t unkind, but oes she was as dumb as a box of rocks. Ent never seen an animal get itself into trouble as much as that thing. If she could get stuck in it, no matter what it was, she would. And she’d just stare with these big brown sad eyes, like pleading for ye to save her, ye chen? I hear they’re used a lot in the mines across Vita, stronger than mules or horses, oes, but they have to cover the eyes lest they get scared when the sky disappears.” The wick sipped her tea, glancing at Tristaan as he let out a sigh, knowing where his mind went at his next words. She nodded again, looking at Nazia.

“Perhaps if ye set y’kint up on the outskirts of the city, it might not be as bad, oes? Hawke won’t bother ye if ye ent bothering him. Or if they ent profitable to him.” She said softly, watching the steam curl slowly from her cup, a slightly distracted frown gracing her lips. The Rose concerned her, a place never far from her mind it seemed. No longer did she look over her shoulder every chance she got, but the once known Mistress Dove knew that they couldn’t have escaped that easily. The King was like a dog with a bone, and his property was very much his own.

Eventually, he would come for them.

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Aziza
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Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2018 6:29 pm
Topics: 9
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Fri Oct 12, 2018 8:39 pm

Roalis 2, 2718
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Sarinah's comment that she might not be compatible with the mona drew a thoughtful frown on the Mug's features. The young woman's head cocked to one side, air pushed out in a soft clicking from between her teeth.

"Oes, could be tha'. Mind ye, the gollies - head up their erses mos' times, ye chen but 'times they make some sense - they have different kinds of vodundun. They can do more'n we can but maybe we've got different kinds too. Maybe ye have ne found yer kind, like a... a... fami of mona!" the Mug witch suggested, grinning hugely as she got the thoughts out. They sounded sort of clever in essence although the words altogether didn't sound very clever. They weren't quite the right words but she was no schooled golly that knew about such things. She only knew what she did from encounters with the supposedly superior galdori, particularly the fact that there were whole areas of magic that they didn't seem capable of using in any meaningful way. Wicks seemed to do all right with a bit of everything, every Spoke's Almanac seeming to carry a smorgasbord of magic that allowed them to do things that gollies couldn't thanks to all their specificity.

She had been able to heal Rhys to a degree, heal him in a way that he had shocked him with her 'lesser' magic and which he hadn't been able to do for himself. The spoke and others like her might lack his learning and his greater strength but she thought there were depths to wicks that nobody understood. The gollies had decided that it wasn't there so they couldn't even see a hint of it but Aziza felt that she'd only seen the tip of what her race could do. So what was to say that they didn't have types of mona that were their kin?

Not that she could convey all her thoughts aloud, not in anything but the vaguest terms and even then, the Mug always seemed to choose the wrong words.

Still, they weren't there for the witch to try to spout poor philosophy and so of course, the conversation moved on. It wasn't exactly on lighter topics, not when they were talking about death but at least it was familiar. Life, death, love, heartbreak, they were all everyday things, things that all wicks walked hand in hand with all the time. Run of the mill really, even tragedy. But still, Tristaan tried to offer an odd sort of comfort, holding out the hope of meeting Mug tekaa - her kin - at the Festival. She had to smile at that.

"We'll have to go next maw, won't we, daoa?" she asked, turning to her mother, the smile dimming a little as she considered how Nazia might be doing by then, health-wise. Next maw... well, it was never a good idea to think that far ahead - anything could happen. No point being sombre about it though, not when she could plaster on a brave face and be cheery about it.

"Sounds lovely, oes. Shame t' have missed it but 't ain't the end o' the world. Doubt it's gonna come t' a stop after this maw," Aziza joked, laughing softly.

The tone shifted again, the topic of Old Rose Harbour bringing a definite negativity, something moving between her two new acquaintances that seemed to point to a serious wariness of the place. She didn't know what had prompted it but a bad experience or a run-in with the wrong sort of people seemed like a likely cause. Initially, she was too thick to see it and then her mother had to point out her love for the place, or at least, a particular person in the place. Nazia didn't seem to have landed her in it though, her berating appearing to have - strangely - softened the mood.

Her cheeks heated, the flesh darkening noticeably. Tristaan's chuckle... he sounded as if he knew exactly what her mother was talking about, as if he was in on the joke, her apparent little obsession. But it really wasn't like that, herself and Benton... it wasn't how Nazia made it sound! But by Hulali, the blush wouldn't die. She gave an embarrassed little cough, cursing as she splashed some of the hot tea on a section of bare leg. Puffing, she rubbed at it with her hand, sending a few cooler droplets flying outwards from her skin.

"Ne, Old Rose ent all bad. Like ye chen it's dang'rous but ye jus' have t' have yer wits 'bout ye, right?" she mumbled, very, very absorbed by the task of checking the splash site over. It meant that she missed the little nudge that Tristaan gave Sarinah or perhaps she would have realised that it wasn't really about her.

Animals were a brief but entirely welcome tangent from the embarrassing topic of what she liked about the Harbour, the osta having excellent timing and of course, sufficiently exotic to grab their companions' attention. She was a good little feline, definitely more loyal than the kenser, which was funny really given that some said that ostas could be fickle. It showed what people knew, didn't it? She coaxed the animal over, hand outstretched and fingers wiggling until Hanaa trotted over, butting her head against Aziza's hand. Fingers moved to scratch the top of her pet's ears before slipping behind her ears.

She snorted when both Tristaan and Sarinah commented on the stupidity of the kensers. "Ye misunderstan' me. That one there? She's bright in some ways, th' worst ways. Cunning thing she is, real tofty, does what she can to make my life tougher'n it has to be. If it can be trouble, she'll do it. Does it on purpose, ye chen?" she commented, tapping on her temple before fluttering her skirt to highlight the damage there.

"See, she made fools out o' us, dint she? Ran 'round, eating me skirt and made us run after her. Then my daoa comes along and that Kalila acts like she always woulda been good and come, no bother, as if to say, 'What ye chase me for, are ye mung?' Bloody kenser." She spat off to one side to emphasise her point, earning a dagger-filled stare from Nazia.

"Ent nawt wrong wi' tha' kenser. She's less o' a beast'n ye, Aziza. More obedient too," the older Mug shot out.

"Dze! Chroveshit, ent nawt wrong wi' me. I've more brains'n that thing, 'member and tha' thing might get us from place t' place but I feeds ye both!"

The witch ran a hand over her head, gaze flicking between the man and the woman as she considered their warnings about the Harbour, unable to keep quiet on the matter. "Ent never been o' use to Hawke before an' I won't be startin' being o' use to him anytime soon. I know to keep me wits 'bout me. Dint be afeard for me, I ent as mung as this one thinks I am." She jerked her head to the side to indicate her mother, taking a good mouthful of her tea.

"Ye pair have gotta right fear o' Old Rose though, ent ye? What's yer bone wi' th' place, eh? Ent all tha' bad. Ye've got summat pers'nal about it, oes?"

"Aziza."

"It's a fair benny question, daoa, shush!"
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