• PM To Join • A little knowledge is a dangerous Sing

[Arwel Kyric]

Ymiden, 3rd trial of arc 717

Arwel had not initially planned on moving to Scalvoris for Ymiden, but it seemed like a logical thing to do given the circumstances. He'd already moved all of his things to Scalvoris Town for the expedition, and other expeditions had gained his interest, thus it only made sense to just stay in town rather than go back to Rynmere. He had no real reason to stay there anyways, if he was being honest. He hadn't gotten up to much, and there wasn't any work to be done, while in Scalvoris there seemed to be more opportunity to do odd jobs and earn some nel. To be fair, he definitely cut costs not having to stay in an inn most of the time, though he was starting to think about investing in a tent of some kind. It would come in handy for the colder nights and would give him shade during the upcoming hotter days. He wasn't entirely sure where to purchase one. He was also on the lookout for items to allow him to cook while he was out in the wild. He'd been buying rations before and cooking whatever animal he could catch over a spit, but he'd save money if he could do more by himself.

He chose to opt out of wearing his leather armor as he walked through the town, and instead was wearing his more casual attire that, with his blue bandana on his head, helped him blend in with the general crowd as he milled about,
trying to find his way.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

The truth was Pash’s handwriting would most likely lose him any potential students instead of gain him any. While he spoke Common well enough to get by, though his thick Rakahi accent wasn’t something he could (or cared to hide), his writing skills left much to be desired in the eyes of others, or so he had been told far too many times. He could read his writing, but it wasn't exactly book-worthy to anyone else. Because of this, he’d bribed Trudi at Cally’s with lagoon blue puppy eyes and a few bawdy tales of previous adventures and even a flirty song or two just for some help writing out a handful of flyers offering music lessons at what he’d decided were a decent price per break, especially considering he only wanted a student or two during a season, every few trials or so.

He made his way from his sloop at the docks and through the streets toward the Central Square, which seemed to have all the makings of a regular hangout for students, buskers, merchants, and townsfolk alike. The seafaring minstrel had seen a few flyers up here and there, and he also knew now that he worked at Cally’s that word of mouth got around quickly.

Pash had his old mother-of-pearl inlaid lute slung over his shoulder and hummed along to whatever tune came to mind, meandering through a few groups of people on the cobbled streets. As he turned to slip down an alley he'd learned over the past several trials was a bit of a short cut, a handful of boisterous children burst from it laughing and playing chase, one waving a stick surely meant to be a sword and another a ribbon twirling behind them, it's purple color vibrant in the sun.

The seafaring minstrel was not quite fast enough to avoid them, quicker on his feet on his salt-worn wooden deck in rolling waves than on the flat ground that was so still. He stumbled back, instinctively moving a hand to steady his lute to keep it from falling off his shoulder or slamming into the stone wall of the building that made up one side of the alley. The problem was that tattooed arm also held his flyers against the faded linen of his mostly unbuttoned shirt.

So, as the small pack of hooligans giggled and sped away, sheets of parchment fluttered everywhere around the tall Biqaj and he was left, chagrined, to pick them all up before they were stepped on by unsuspecting pedestrians on their way to or from the Central Square.

[Arwel Kyric]

Arwel had originally had the idea to purchase some items to use when camping out but soon found that he felt no desire to continue with his thoughts. Oh well, not every day need be productive after all, at least not in that sense. One of his journals were out as he moved to lean against a wall near an alleyway, open to a page where he worked on something that reminded him of the cold and the snow from the ice caves. Just thinking about them made a chill go across his skin, but within their depths had been the makings of words, of a song to sing perhaps, though only to himself. He was taking great care to write this in particular, as he was doing it as a kind of respect to those who died in the caves. While he had another he was working on that bespoke of the cold and the ice, this was different and more....emotional somehow.

He would have completely missed what happened next if, conveniently, one of the papers hadn't landed in his open journal, telling of singing lessons. He blinked and lifted his head, noticing that more were strewn about the place and a man was trying to gather them up again. Without thinking, he moved to help as well, wondering if perhaps he should speak up and tell of his own interest in the lessons. He did like to sing, but he didn't really have the confidence for it even if he wasn't all that bad at it. With a handful of the fliers in his hands, he offered them to the other man, one still tucked in his now closed notebook. "Y-you dropped these..." he murmured shyly. "I um....well...." he bit his lip, then finally said, "I'm kind of interested in the flier, i-if these are your advertisement, that is." He wanted to hit his face with his hand at his words. If it were his, of course it was, why would he be handing out fliers for someone else? It was one thing to hand out fliers for a restaurant or business but this was for a specific person teaching so why would it not be the person handing them out? Of course, his tendency to overthink things meant that he blew his own words out of proportion and stammered out something that sounded like some sort of apology before trailing off into silence again, his cheeks now turning red over how this was playing out.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash was not quiet or shy or capable of much shame at all, really. He walked in his worn, comfortable sandals with a casual, unconscious confidence in himself and his abilities. Perhaps he’d been too encouraged in life, too supported by family, or perhaps he’d just let a little bit go to his head over time, especially traveling and performing for a living. Perhaps it was just one of the many blessings of being Biqaj—owning your strengths and making due with your limitations because freedom under U’Frek’s care was worth both.

Whatever the case, self-confidence didn’t pick up parchment from off the street. Humility did. Pash was snatching his flyers from the cobblestones, dodging feet in a desperate attempt to rescue as many as he could when another man began to assist him, offering him a stack of them without entirely making eye contact. Ah, that was nice, though. He’d probably have had to get even more creative to convince Trudi to write another stack out for him.

The seafaring musician smiled warmly, accepting the pile, “Thank’ee, an’, oh! Har. You read ‘em, too?” He chuckled, watching the other man’s shyness but not skipping a beat in his own cheerful song, hoping that despite his Rakahi-accented Common, his tone of assurance would be contagious as always, already caught up in the question and the opportunity instead of bothering with an introduction,

“Aye, they’re mine. I’m looking’ to teach a few lessons every few trials ‘r so, an’ I’m open-ended. Y’ like music, eh? D’you play ‘r sing already an’ are lookin’ to get better ‘r are y’ lookin’ to get started fresh off th’ boat, so t’ speak?”

[Arwel Kyric]

Arwel looked around to see if there were any more fliers to gather, then looked back to the man when he spoke. Something about the air about him made him feel like he could be at ease. He bet that the man had no shortage of friends as he felt a smile start to form on his lips. He liked the man's accent too, though he didn't think he'd met someone with it before, he liked how it felt familiar and friendly to him. Grabbing another flier that he spotted on the ground before it could be stomped on, he took a moment before saying, "Ah, y-yes. I did. My name is Arwel, it's nice to meet you." His voice was only just loud enough to be heard, but you could see he was trying. "And I love music, actually. I've never had the chance to play an instrument myself, though I've wanted to, I do sing a bit. I'd love to get better than I am, and maybe um...well, build the confidence to sing around or in front of others. Do you think you would be up for that?"

[Pash Raj'oriq]

The Biqaj was grateful for the assistance, especially since the street was a little busier than he expected, “Pash Vy’Ryn, th’ pleasure’s mine.” He took his stack of parchment with a broad smile and a nod as the other man gave his name and explained his background,

“Well, I can’t make y’ sing in front ‘f others if’n y’ don’ want to. For that part, y’ gotta do th’ inside work yourself, but, aye, I’d love t’ help with your singin’.” Pash couldn’t turn someone into a performer if that wasn’t what they were made of, but he did feel that if one was good at something and felt confident doing it, then they would most likely be more able to do more difficult things. Anything adventurous was usually worth the risk, after all.

The seafaring minstrel was often quite confident in his abilities, sometimes too much so, and he struggled to keep that within the boundaries of humility that others considered socially acceptable. He spent far too much time at sea on his own to ever be entirely tame when he came ashore, but he also couldn’t resist the company of others as if they nourished his very existence. They did. And, thus, it was a delicate balance he was continually failing to find correctly.

“So, aye, when would y’ like to start an’ how much time are y’ lookin’ to take learnin’ together?” Pash, strangely enough, meant the together part. The idea of teaching felt strange to him, and yet he knew that in the process of showing someone else what he knew, he’d also learn new things himself, “I work nights at Cally’s, playin’ music, but have m’ days free. When I’m no’ sleepin’ ‘r whatnot.”

[Arwel Kyric]

“Ah, w-well you are right in that regards.” Arwel said, biting his lip before he said, “B-but um...w-well, I figured that perhaps i-if I practiced in front of you that it might help me grow more comfortable. I-I don’t think it’d be in your abilities to necessarily improve my confidence, b-but perhaps with practice I could grow more adjusted to the idea.” He glanced at Pash, wondering on what he thought in regards to it.

He ran a hand through his red hair, purple eyes studying the Biqaj in front of him when he inquired as to when the lessons should take place. “Well...I have an expedition coming up that I will be participating in, but I believe my schedule is free other than that.” he said, pulling out his journal to flip to a page that he’d written some things down in. “I don’t have anything else that can’t be done at a different time, s-so I believe I can just work with your schedule. What would work best for you? I-I ah, don’t have a job or anything, so I don’t have any hours I must work around. All I really do normally is spend time in the library, researching and learning things. I-it’d probably do me some good to get out a little more.” he added with a little nervous chuckle. He really had been spending a lot of time indoors, but he’d learned so much in the process that it was probably worth it in the long run. “Ah, I can’t do early mornings though, I spend my mornings meditating and doing yoga, and I have to do that at the start of my day.” he mentioned suddenly, remembering in case Pash decided early might work best. He tipped his head to the side when Pash mentioned a place called Cally’s, the name sounded familiar but he didn’t think he recognized what kind of place it was. “Is Cally’s some kind of music place? The name sounds familiar but I’ve never been.” he inquired politely.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“Aye, I agree.”

The salty bard nodded, for he indeed mostly agreed. Spending time with others, instead of just in the library, would definitely be a step toward confidence. One had to interact with living, breathing people to get used to them. While Pash was sure books were good for things and studying was important, the other side of that coin was definitely being around people. Regardless, Arwel was correct in that the more comfortable he became with his voice, the more confident he would be with it around anyone else—other than a book.

“Expedition, eh? Never heard o’ that. What d’ you do on one o’ those?” Pash chuckled. He’d heard of the Immortal’s Tongue, but only in rumors. He’d heard it was a place where the Emea and Idalos met, touched, and tangled together. This sounded both fascinating and curious. He’d also heard that the place was dangerous and strange, but that had yet to dissuade him from considering a visit.

The tall Biqaj was about to open his mouth to add that mornings would be fantastic, that while he liked his sleep he wasn’t really one to waste the day, but then Arwel added he had a much more organized morning routine than Pash did and so he paused for a trill or two, but then just went on with it, “Ah, well—anytime’s a’right with me. Mornin’s would be best, aye, an’ I was gonna ask where you’d like t’ meet. I’ve got a sloop an’ live off th’ docks, so no public space required for practicing . It’s quiet an’ such.”

Pash hooked a calloused thumb in the worn, woven strap of his lute and rolled his shoulders in a shrug, lagoon blue gaze studying the other man in his shyness. The contrast in the shades of their skin was obvious, but it seemed as though they had similar appreciation for body art. The Biqaj had left his race’s usual concern for what made an outsider an outsider back in Ne’Haer arcs ago, and thus hardly saw the differences his people would perhaps have pointed out. He was far too curious and interested in a person as an individual to care about what set them apart from himself in such a way.

“Y’ don’ have a job. Did y’ want to trade somehow for some lessons, then?” The seafaring minstrel didn’t really need the nel—Cally’s paid just fine and kept him fed while he was there—but he also didn’t mind the extra coin to tuck away for emergencies, “I’ve been told more’n once in m’ life that I could use a bit more discipline. An’ while I haven’t met folks t’ spar here with, maybe we could trade some excercisin’ for some singin’, too?”

It seemed a fair trade and one that did not place any coin value on the experiences involved, which truthfully Pash found much more agreeable. He had no idea what Arwel’s daily routine looked like, but a few trials a ten-trial seemed like a fair exchange, and the tall Biqaj wouldn’t object to a friend or two to look forward to during the day.

"Oh, an' Cally's be a restaurant near th' Central Square. It's kinda' fancy. O'aye, a lot fancy. I jus' play music there in th' background for folks t' dine to. Nothin' like playin' at some tavern 'r anythin', but I still do that when I can."