• PM To Join • [Central Square] Moonlight On Scalvoris Town

[Kali'rial]

1st Ymiden, A few bits after midnight, 717

As each season pass, the Sev'ryn also celebrate the passing of these seasons. So when the time is right and the lands take on the noticeable changes, they look to the moon. Once the moon is full and high in the sky, they have a celebration to respect and honour the change in nature. Not only that, but to celebrate life and to come together as brethren to enjoy food, drink and dance.

Kali stood at the fountain in the town square, leaning on her arms and looking up at the sky. It was a warm night, enough just for her dress and belt - armguards left at the inn with the rest of her possessions. The central square was empty, save for those stragglers who were without homes or on their way between tavern and home. A gentle breeze tugged lightly at loose strands of hair, almost black in the night and brushing softly against her shoulder blades.

The moon as it was, was huge and full, it's ethereal light shining down boldly on the sleepy township. The brunette listened to the flowing sound of the fountain as she stared up at the luminescent celestial body, feeling somehow more alone than she had in her whole life. Whilst this wasn't her first seasonal change outside of Desnind, it was her first one alone. Even on the wagon, her Nonna and Poppa were there to celebrate with her in their own special way. It was a quiet affair, with prayer to Moseke and a sweet delicacy to fill their bellies. Kali felt a lump in her throat and a sudden sting of tears in her eyes. Closing them with a frown creasing her brow, the hunter swallowed in an attempt to sway the rush of feeling. She missed Nonna, and Poppa was a long way away. Whilst she couldn't remember her parents, she remembered a feeling of warmth and love for them. Especially at the changing of the seasons. Poppa once told her that Momma loved sweets, and it made their seasonal celebration a little more meaningful then the loud drunken party her peers would attend.

Taking a shuddering breath in, Kali breathed out heavily to shake off the emotional dive into melancholy and pushed off the fountain to stand straight, staring up at the full moon.

"Moseke, may we by guided by You in this the new season." She spoke quietly in her native tongue, periwinkle gaze on the shimmering lunar body.

"Give me the strength to move forward on my journey, and the ability to face the unknown." Reaching up, she toyed with the beaded necklace hanging around her tanned throat and smiled.

"I'm sure you have seen my travel so far, and I'm not sure what Poppa would say, but please look after him whilst I am away. I know he misses Nonna and Momma and Da, so he needs Your love Moseke." Closing her eyes again, the brunette Sev'ryn pictured her Poppa, his pipe in his mouth as he perched on his porch. The image made her smile again.

"In Your name and Your Grace, I am thankful for what I have learned in Ashan and I welcome Ymiden with open heart, mind and soul." Still smiling, the young woman found herself lost in thought. She had been in the city now for at least half of the last season and learned more than she’d expected to. Yet, she was still here, not hunting for her familiar. In fact quite the opposite – her familiar hadn’t made itself known.

The brunette sighed, sudden angry tears burning her eyes again. What was the point in this journey, if her whole reason for being shoved out ‘into the wild’ hadn’t ruddy well shown up? Crossing her arms, the young huntress had lost her smile, instead frowning up at the moon as though it was to blame for her unproductive trip.

Maybe it was time to move on from Scalvoris Town?

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash had taken to lingering at Cally’s some nights, helping to clean up or generally making himself useful. If he didn’t have anywhere else to go after midnight (say, some other tavern, for example), then he didn’t mind the extra time around people. It was something to do, something to keep him busy, and, well, he didn’t mind the people, either.

Once everyone bid their good nights and the doors were locked, the seafaring minstrel headed his own way down the alley behind the restaurant that connected to a larger street, reaching to unbutton a few buttons and roll up the sleeves of the far too nice cotton shirt he wore to play music for wealthy folks, finally untucking it from the equally too nice but much more supple and comfortable leather breeches he’d somewhat come to like more than the shirt. His sandals, however, were the same: worn, woven, and reliable. After adjusting his lute over his shoulder once he felt free from the confines of a few little buttons, he ran sore, calloused fingers through his sea bleached hair to untie it with a stretch and a groan. Sitting still for breaks at a time was a constant challenge for the tall Biqaj, and Cally’s had been busy on this last day of Ashan, everyone eager to get their last taste of their favorite dish before the season turned and something new but equally delicious appeared on the menu.

Hardly tired so much as restless, Pash turned from the cobblestone side street and toward the central square to pass through it on his long walk back to the docks and his sloop. The Scholars’ Nook and a few other shops were surprisingly still open, catering to studious types and night owls, though the vendors had all closed up their carts hours ago and the flickering of firelight just bounced off wood and stone. A few folks wandered by on their tavern crawl misadventures, but the square appeared mostly unoccupied.

The fountain where he'd often come to play a bit of music during the day was still bubbling happily in the bright light of a full moon, and when his tidepool gaze swept past it, the shipwright’s son could only pause with a wave for attention, forgetting his somewhat out of usual character attire, before changing course and wandering in the direction of the dark-haired Sev’ryn he recognized,

”Kali! Hello!” Pash smiled, easily closing the distance between them in the square, empty as it was. His expression may have even been amused or wistful, standing where he’d been busking in early Ashan ... and when he’d first set his tidepool gaze on the lovely huntress, “Y’know, I don’ think the locals really want anyone swimmin’ in th’ fountain, at least before dawn when I’m sure folks’ll be usin’ it to celebrate the new season.”

[Kali'rial]

The sound of a voice in the darkness behind her made Kali jump, her heart suddenly in her throat and her cheeks immediately turning a shade of pink as she recognised its owner. The rich baritone laced with Rakahi accent couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else other than Pash Vy'ryn. The brunette had seen him here and there throughout the town since Worlds End, but each time she had seen him in the crowd or across the central square, Kali had just missed him or lost him in the crowd. On the odd occasion where they had run into each other she had awkwardly made small talk with fleeting glances before finding a way to excuse herself. Her behaviour was to no fault of the tall bard, and entirely seated with the young woman herself. There were emotions and feelings that flared when she saw him, things that made her pulse race and her cheeks glow. At times, she had caught herself day dreaming of the night, events running through her mind that made her both giddy with delight and guilt.

The Sev’ryn struggled to process how she felt about Pash, unable to align the feelings with her sense the teachings of her grandparents. If her Poppa knew what she had done, what she was feeling….the blue eyed huntress felt for sure he would be deeply ashamed of her and angry that she’d practically disobeyed her elders. Immortals, the sheer thought made her feel sick to her stomach. It was too much for her to cope with.

She had admittedly shed a couple of tears over the past few ten-trials, envisioning herself finding the man and just telling him how she was feeling, but too unsure of herself to follow through. The Worlds End had lent her liquid courage of sorts, and she'd bared herself to him body and soul. Worse still, the brunette was ashamed to admit that she felt more than desire for the seaman. Her daydreams were sometimes simply the two of them, travelling or sailing or...whatever it was that people who were courting did. It was downright embarrassing. A one night stand turned into a crush. Now he was right here, right behind her, on a night that left her more vulnerable than she would like to admit.

Moving her hands to wipe the tears discretely that had sprung up in her frustrated contemplation, the huntress turned with a small smile to cover the wave of feelings that washed over her. He was dressed up far more than she'd previously seen, sunkissed hair delightfully loose around his shoulders and lute across his back. Immortal's...why did the bard have to look so good? It just made her feel more conflicted.

”Pash? Hello. I...sorry?” She frowned in confusion, looking back at the fountain before raising her eyebrows with a laugh and shaking her head.

”Oh, right! No I’m not…swimming. There’s nowhere near enough room for..er..for that. I’m just giving thanks to Moseke for the turn of the season, it’s not…well I just wanted to get here before the whole dawn..thing.” He was clearly joking, but in her current frame of mind the brunette couldn’t quite come up with an appropriate response. Blushing, she cleared her throat and smiled, her periwinkle gaze not quite able to meet his own.

”You’re looking well. I’ve seen you around the town a few times since…er…since Worlds End. Never really seem to be able to find the time to stop and say hello properly…” Crossing her arms, the Sev’ryn made a wry face and gestured at his garments.

”You’re very dressed up for someone wandering around the streets at this break. Is there something...or someone…you’re off to see?” Kali leaned not-so-casually against the fountain, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart pounding heavily against her ribs. If he was seeing someone, it was to be expected considering the huntress had been so unbelievably awkward since Worlds End, even if she really wanted to just talk. Still, if he was, Kali wasn’t sure she was in the emotional frame of mind just now to calmly accept that. Shifting her eyes up to finally meet his own, the young woman allowed herself a moments guilty pleasure to drown in their depths, just for a bit.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

He’d overstepped some bounds and he knew it. He’d carried it around in the back of his mind for a handful of ten-trials now, dragging like a towline during a storm at sea, though at the same time, he didn’t necessarily feel guilt. Pash had lived a life free of any expectations save his own for several arcs, and even before then, his upbringing had been far from strict or sheltering—he was Biqaj, after all. Still, the dark-haired Sev’ryn had not been far from his thoughts since the World’s End Festival, and his somewhat blurred memories were ones he preferred to savor when he chose to dwell on them, which was more often than he cared to admit.

It wasn’t as though he’d never taken strangers to bed before or had never enjoyed the pleasurable outcomes of casual relationships—something that clearly Kali had not—but meeting the huntress again at the festival had felt different, and the longer Pash thought on things, the more meaningful it seemed to become in his mind.

Her awkwardness was not lost on the sensitive bard, who’d seen her unspoken feelings without her permission (that was, perhaps, the singular thing he did indeed feel a twinge of guilt about), and their brief run-ins in town since last season had always been met with discomfort from her. At first, the seafaring minstrel didn’t want to push the issue, not wanting to make the woman any more uncomfortable than clearly he already had. It was confusing, to feel concern and yet to stifle the urge to do something about it, but he also longed to see more of what he’d already felt lay hidden beneath arcs of guilt and discipline that Kali’rial had made her internal regimen. The glimpses of her freer self in his presence had been a strange gift—it had left him hungry for more and it had left her struggling to understand.

Pash’s tidepool gaze watched the lithe huntress cross her arms and heard the inflection of what felt almost like jealousy in her tone though those things conflicted with the color that rose to her cheeks in his presence. He liked those reactions, admittedly, for it meant she had feelings. Feelings he may have shared but was afraid she’d not want to listen to. It was late and he’d been playing music for a busy restaurant, but he was also quite suspicious that the remnants of tears clung to her cheeks in the moonlight. He chuckled, warmly wanting to deflect her accusations, eyes shifting to a darker shade of stormy blue in his inability to hide his internal struggle,

“Someone? Me? Nah—” He was already looking at who he’d been wanting to see, ”—I’ve jus’ been workin’, but I’m headin’ home now. I play a lil’ background music for fancy folks at Cally’s at night. It’s a restaurant,” the tall Biqaj pointed in the direction of the establishment he spoke of, stepping closer but still hovering outside of the personal space he wanted very much to invade, “I gotta look nice so I don’ stand out ‘r scare away th’ rich folks. Wouldn’t wanna ruin th’ atomosphere by dressin’ like I jus’ washed ashore, y’know?”

Pash cautioned a grin, his words meant to be self-deprecating in their humor, though his calloused fingers strayed to toy with a button on his uncharacteristically crisp, white shirt, a tell of his equally uncharacteristic nervousness,

”Look, uh, if I’m interruptin’, I can go, but if I’m no’, can I walk y’ home? There’s been some break ins an’ attacks ‘round here, an’ while I know y’ can take care o’ y’self, it’s prob’ly better to no’ wander ‘round alone.” He’d heard some rumors and his tone was genuine, but he also hoped that maybe she wouldn’t be skittish, just this once, that maybe he could get her to hang around long enough to talk, ”It’s on my way, after all.”

[Kali'rial]

The brunette huntress watched the colors shifting in his eyes, chewing the inner corner of her lip as she waited for his reply and begged Moseke silently that it was not like that, trying to keep her not-so-casual leaning as casual as it could be. The deeper, richer blue that swept through his gaze reminded Kali of the violet that was so tantalisingly enjoyable to draw to the surface and her heart skipped almost painfully. How did she put into words the way his presence made her feel, and how it ripped at the moral structure that her whole life had been built around? The Biqaj’s gentle laugh was music to hear ears, music she had realised she’d been missing.

The Sev'ryn felt the tension in her abate at his words, releasing her breath with a rush. She laughed almost a shocked sound, and unfolded her arms to rest her hands on her hips as she shook her head in bemused surprise.

“Cally’s? You work at Cally’s? Well if that doesn't…” The young woman watched him move closer, but not to close, and laughed again at the light hearted joke he raised at his own expense.

“I’ve been working for Faith too, bringing game for Cally’s kitchens though the back entrance. Pretty sure if I came in the front I would have seen you, maybe heard you, and most definitely have scared the fancy folks away.” Pausing to reflect on the ridiculous irony that they had been working for the same place, without even knowing it, the brunette huntress shot him a small smile.

"Well, you clean up alright, so it must be working for you.” Her periwinkle gaze followed his hand as it strayed to a button, toying with it in a way that was out of place for what she had experienced with the man so far, worrying it as though he was nervously waiting for something.

Pash spoke again, with words that were both polite and sweet, offering to walk her home lest she find herself in a spot of trouble. It made her trials of pent up thoughts and feelings come bubbling to the surface again with a wave of emotion, and a lump formed in her throat. Kali swallowed against it painfully and nodded, looking down at her barefeet in a useless attempt to pull herself together.

“You’re not...uh..you’re not interrupting.” The Sev'ryn brunette said with a waver in her voice, almost whispering the last word. Frustratedly, Kali shielded her eyes with one hand and took a deep breath to try and force away the tears that had come unbidden. She swore softly in Xanthean, sniffling and squeezing her eyes shut.

“Immortals, why am I even crying?! Pash, I’m sorry, I just…” She laughed without humor, looking up to meet his deep blue gaze.

“Thank you. I would like that, very much.” The huntress said thickly, taking long slow breaths and wiping the tears angrily from her cheeks, blushing with shame. Sniffing again, she brushed her hair from her face and gestured towards the direction of the city outskirts to indicate the path they would take.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

“I’ve seen you.” Pash said quietly, moving on from his button to fuss with the sleeves he’d already rolled up once when he left restaurant, fingers brushing against the inked patterns on his skin. Unlike all the patrons and guests he’d seen in passing at Cally’s, he couldn’t mistake the dark-haired Sev’ryn for someone else, not anymore, “But I work nights an’ y’ mostly drop off hunts in th’ day. So, we’re always jus’ missin’ each other. Y’ should come for dinn—er …”

He stopped, uncomfortably cautious, letting his last words trail off into the splashing of the fountain next to them. The tall Biqaj smiled at the thought that they both had somehow ended up at the same place, working for the same person. Thank Zanik the Immortals appeared to sometimes know what they were doing for mortals like himself.

Dammitall.

She was crying.

Did he do this? Was this his fault?

Pash chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Guilt was not a feeling he was good at, though it wasn’t foreign so much as rare. Humility was something that did not follow easily behind his bold, performer’s personality, for he was mostly confident in his abilities and sometimes complacent in his hedonism. That said, his storm sail happened to be just how sensitive he was, how much he cared, how much he tended to feel for others in general. It kept him steady, even when the trouble he got himself into was almost always of his own doing. It wasn’t a bad thing, but he’d yet to find his ballast. A calloused palm rubbed the trials’ old dark hair on his concerned face before resting for a few trills on the back of his neck, watching Kali’s internal struggle bubble to the surface.

He frowned.

“Kali,” he reached to take one of her hands in his—if she’d let him—as they walked in the direction she indicated which was different than where she’d been, wanting to tangle their fingers together if only to keep himself from touching her face. Although their skin touching also made warmth dance across the back of his neck. His free hand hooked into the strap of his lute that hugged his chest for something familiar, “I’m sorry, but you’ve hardly wanted t’ see me, to talk t’ me, no’ really, since th’ Festival. It's no’ like y’ don’ know where I live.”

He said he was sorry but his tone wasn't apologetic so much as confused. Surely, she’d enjoyed herself, and he'd made it clear that her decisions were her own. She'd wanted him, too, she'd said so herself, but there was more to it than that, which was just how the rigging always got tangled when you had somewhere important to go. So while he didn't understand the harm, it wasn't like he really knew the Sev’ryn, either. Only what she'd told him in their short time together.

“If this ‘s all my fault, it's okay for y’ to tell me that.” Pash said quietly, honest as usual, looking at her with eyes that were still darkened in his concern. He was a man, he could handle the consequences of his own mistakes. It had been a few arcs since his last one, after all. ”I was hopin’ to see more ‘f you, no’ less, y’know, after that night. It weren't m’ intention to jus’ sleep with you an’ run off—”

Not that he was innocent of such offense. He wasn't. But, for whatever reason, his intentions felt so different with the dark-haired Sev’ryn. She'd caught his attention, and it was easy for him to get wrapped up in his curiosities, but he liked her, and he longed to know more of her than just her body, nice though it was,

“—is that what y’ think o’ me?”

She was allowed, honestly, but Pash also wasn't able to see past her hurt and think clearly. He knew that she carried a burden, a guilt, a weight of expectation. He'd broken her rules, not his.

[Kali'rial]

"I've seen you...Y'should come for dinn-er..."

The words were quiet, but Kali heard them as clear as a bell and they made her heart skip a beat. So he'd seen her, even when she hadn't seen him? Deep somewhere inside her Sev'ryn knew it meant something special, maybe something more akin to the feelings she struggled to fit into her neat and organised view of the world. As they began to walk the Biqaj bard took her hand in his, causing the brunette to look down at their entwined fingers with mild surprise, listening to his words that carried with them a note of confusion.

Of course, he had every reason to be confused. Kali had made none of this situation easy, from the Worlds End to The Muse to here. It was a wonder he was walking with her now.

Glancing up at his face, the open honesty she saw there as he continued caused her eyes to well up again and she looked away with another deep breath, to ward away the emotions that raged on. Frowning, the huntress shook her head.

"It's not like th-" She began to say, trying to put her thoughts into words and caught on the right way to say them. The tears weren't helping, by the Immortals they were making things worse and she couldn't stop them. Too long she'd contemplated what to say, how to act, and in doing so she'd given the seafaring minstrel all the wrong impressions. The Sev'ryn took another breath, swallowing to clear the tightening feeling in her throat. Speak, speak you idiot!, her minds voice screamed at her. The situation was quickly getting out of her control, and the young brunette hated it.

It was his last words that broke through her struggle, washing over her like a sheet of cold water. Kali stopped walking and pulled on his hand sharply, turning toward the sun kissed man and getting up on her toes, pressing her lips to his in an urgent and passionate kiss. She let go of his hands to shift her own up and hold the lapels of his crisp white shirt, holding him close as she languished in the sensation of his warm mouth for what felt like an eternity, cherishing what she had been wanting for trails and trials. Crying still, the southern born huntress broke away to speak with a rush of words.

"No, no no. That's not it, I don't think of you like that, not at all." She kissed him again quickly between breaks in her words, as though she needed to tell Pash everything before he ran away.

"I've wanted to see you. Talk to you. Visit you. Every. Damned. Day." Kali laughed against his mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. She pulled back then to look at him with a periwinkle frown.

"I've wanted to run back to your boat and tell you how much I think about you. I can't stop seeing us, together at the Festival. There on The Muse. I've spent nights laying awake just trying to figure out what to say to you, how to tell you these feelings, and then when I see you the words don't come. I don't want to...I'm just.." Shaking her head, the brunette swore once more in Xanthean and looked down, even as her fingers still curled in his shirt.

"It's me. It's all me. I feel things for you Pash, and I don't know how to shake off the fact that I'm very blatantly casting aside my Elders teachings just because I can't get my heart under control. Think with your head Kali, not with your heart. By Moseke, I can almost hear Nonna's voice from the beyond!" Laughing again, she focused on the same button he'd toyed with earlier, her breath hitching a little from the emotional outburst.

"I avoided you because I wasn't sure you would feel the same, that you'd maybe laugh, and I didn't want you to be ashamed that a silly Sev'ryn girl had fallen for you after one drink and a casual night together." Looking into his eyes again, Kali'rial smiled a little shakily.

"I didn't want you to be burdened with me."

[Pash Raj'oriq]

She was just going to keep doing that thing, kissing him first, driving him crazy, wasn’t she?

A fist full of awkward ten-trials of thinking about her fleeting smile, of wanting more of her hands on him—like they were now, her fingers curled tightly into his too fancy shirt—and Pash was audibly relieved to hold her, to return her kisses with more than just shallow attention so much as deeper affection in order to assure her he was not some skittish school of fish about to flit away into the deep. Kali was not at all ready to let go, either, and so he trailed his hands up gently along her sides and reached up to her face to wipe her tears with calloused thumbs, chagrined that she would feel as though this was all her fault somehow, letting his palms cradle her face for a few short bits,

“A burden? To me? How, Kali? You’re no’ a burden. You’re a gift. What could y’ possibly anchor me with?” The tall Biqaj smiled gently, uncaring how they stood in the moonlight in the middle of the street, “Y’know, y’ can think with both. Both. Your heart matters ‘s much ‘s your head, ‘f no’ more, sometimes.”

Yes, it did get you in trouble if you weren’t careful and it wasn’t reliable all of the time, but it was still important. Even after all this time, Pash still faithfully believed that with his whole being.

His hands slipped away from her face to her hips, comfortable there as if he’d known their shape for arcs. Pash held her periwinkle gaze and tried to think of how to say the things he wanted to say, how to word his response to all the heaviness she seemed to carry, “It takes a lot t’ shame me. A lot, Kali. An’ maybe that says th’ wrong thing ‘bout me as ‘t stands, but, that’s who I am. We had a good time, aye? I thought so, an’ it was what I wanted. For you. Some ‘f it was for me, sure, but … you … a lot ‘f it was for you. For a night, y’ didn’t worry ‘bout who else y’ were pleasin’, whose standards y’ were upholdin’, an’ y’ were just yourself. It’s nice to be honest, to be real.” His baritone voice got quieter, “It was lovely. Beautiful, even. An’ it’s alright t’ feel feelin’s ‘bout that. ‘Bout me. ‘Cause it’s alright for me t’ feel things ‘bout you, too. It’s what people do. Feel.”

If she only knew how much was on the inside, invisible, the threads of a rich tangle of emotion.

By the Immortals, why would anyone tell a child not to feel? Kali’s grandparents must have ached at the loss of their own children, of her parents, but to take the wind out of this woman’s sails like that? He didn’t understand. So much of who Pash was and what he did sailed with emotions as his own wind.

“The fault’s no’ all yours, damn it. What we did, we shared. Together. Th’ things that ‘re crawlin’ under your skin, part o’ that’s me, too. I … well, I’m no’ very good at leavin’ somethin’ alone if I want it. At first, I jus’ wanted t’ see you smile, but, that wasn’t enough. An’ then, well, I wanted t’ see you have some fun, but that wasn’t enough. An’ then, I wanted to touch you … an’, well, an’ now, maybe, maybe I let things go too far. Or I ‘t least let things get outta hand an’ outta order. No’ t’ say I have regrets, no’ in th' normal way o’ sayin’ that, but … ah—No, we had a good time. An’ all I’ve wanted ‘s t’ see more ‘f you since then.”

The seafaring minstrel found himself at a loss for words. He knew what he felt, but the right things to say stubbornly hung in the back of his throat instead of tumbling off the tip of his tongue. So, he looked at her, quietly for a few moments, meeting her gaze and studying her face, held against her by her hands still unwilling to release the fine fabric of his one nice shirt,

“Look, there’s somethin’ inside you I can’t seem t’ ignore. It’s bright an’ burnin’ an’ it makes me want to sing songs ‘bout as much as it makes me want to touch you. Honestly, your Elders—who I don’ know mind y’—stuck a basket o’er t’ hide that light. Kali, I don’ know your family, so I’m goin’ to say some things an’ I don’ mean offense in m’ ignorance, but I’ve seen you,”

That.

He should talk about that.

But he didn’t. Not yet. He hesitated, which was not usually his style, but revealing to Kali that he could (and had) manipulated emotions whenever he wanted was probably not the best course of conversation at the moment.

“Er, I’ve seen bits an’ pieces of who y’ really are, an’ I’m sorry, but I don’ think your Elders were thinkin’ entirely ‘f you when they told you th’ things they did, when they raised y’ with th’ things that y’ say to keep yourself in some kinda’ line. I think they were protectin’ themselves from some kind o’ big, terrible hurt an’ it went too far, too, like I can go too far. They clearly cared ‘bout you an’ meant well, but … well … I don’ know … I’m probably way outta line.”

Pash stopped, aware that he’d said things about her family in a way he did not personally or culturally understand. He knew what he saw in those moments of boldness in her, and he felt compelled to set that free in a way that was consuming.

[Kali'rial]

The brunette Sev'ryn sniffed a little as he wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs, speaking gently with words that brought a small smile to her face. The seafaring bard held his warm hands to her face for a short while, allowing Kali to search his beautiful aurora like eyes to find nothing but open honesty he wore like a badge. His words however, were foreign to her. To think with your heart was just fools play, a thoughtless process that lead people down trails without thinking or seeing. It was dangerous to allow the heart to be your guide, at least, that was what she was told.

Yet, if she had followed her heart so many trials ago, would she be standing here now? Or would they have reunited so much sooner? The thought made her head hurt trying to line this concept up with her grandparents teachings.

As Pash continued to speak his hands held her close by the hips and her own still holding him by the shirt, the huntress listened carefully, nodding as he questioned whether they had indeed enjoyed their time together on the night of the Festival. Her cheeks flushed and her heart picked up a rapid beat at his words.

He had feelings, for her? Kali couldn't help the wide smile that broached her features, eyes dropping to his shirt and butterflies dancing in her belly. It made her feel like laughing, or crying. She didn't really know. Yet, even as these thoughts ran through her mind, the Sev'ryn couldn't block the guilty shame brewing underneath. It faded the smile and muted the butterflies. What good was any of this feelings...nonsense? It only served to drag her attentions away from the real purpose of this journey. To find her Familiar and make the bond, go home and show Poppa so they could stop this silly journey distraction and get back to work.

If that's true, then why by Moseke do I feel so much pain as the thought of leaving this behind. Leaving Pash behind? The thought nagged in her head like a biting gnat, pestering and determined.

On the Biqaj spoke, singing a lilting tune that was for her ears only, with admissions of wanting to see her. More of her. Kali berated herself again for both leaving this so long and letting it happen in the first place. She bit her lip, even as a smile again came to her mouth at his continued delightful expressive words. The thought that he wanted to touch her send a warmth across her cheeks and shoulders. This was something that the brunette huntress could agree burned within her as well, and even though it was the ultimate distraction, it was a pleasant one.

Then his words changed. They weren't pleasant, at least not for Sev'ryn ears. Kali's eyes shot up to look at him with an almost audible gasp of shock at his suggestion her Elders had something to do with her current state of mind. The smile had completely disappeared, and slowly with each further baritone note a frown grew on her brow. The now moonlit musician spoke about her Elders with some deeply disrespectful, yet accurate assumptions, even if the brunette couldn't bring herself to hear it over the very ingrained fact that Elders were always to be listened to and respected.

"You are very much out of line." Kali said, her tone now quietly angry. Letting go of his shirt, the Sev'ryn stepped back from his hands and shook her head with disbelief.

"We must always respect our Elders, and their teachings. This is Sev'ryn law. To speak against them.." Her periwinkle gaze narrowed slightly, and her jaw tensed as she tried to contain her anger. It was all too easy to forget that Pash was not of her people. Still, surely even Biqaj respected their Elders. Especially their blood relatives. The southerner took a breath, attempting to calm herself and find some level of control. This night, the first full moon of the season, was turning out to be far more emotionally challenging then she could ever remember.

"I was only three arcs when my parents were killed. They took me with them, out there in the wilds, to keep me close to them. I don't remember anything, and no one ever told me what really happened out there, but I know whatever it was that happened, something caught them off guard, something took them from Poppa and Nonna. From me." Kali almost growled the last words, her hands shaking.

"My Elders were protecting me. Preparing me for the world beyond Desnind's gates. What could they possibly have done wrong in making sure I didn't fall for the same foolhardiness my parents did?" The Sev'ryn lifted her chin, hands clenched and periwinkle eyes showing her struggle to get her emotions under control. Taking another deep breath, the young woman looked at the ground between them, before meeting his eyes again.

"Maybe you're right Pash, but we don't question our Elders or their motives. Their reasons were their own, and they have far more knowledge about the world then we do. That's what makes them Elders. I can't speak for their reasons behind what they taught me, but frankly the past few ten-trials have been some of the worst I can remember. I've felt pain, anguish, guilt, sick with worry and foolish with affairs of the heart. Maybe that was what they wanted to save me from." Her self control she'd carefully pulled back together was unravelling now, voice breaking a little and lip trembling for a moment. She wasn't crying yet, but the tears were threatening. It was all too much and the Biqaj standing there in his work attire, reminding her too easily of what delights they'd shared made it even harder. He made her question everything she knew, in a way that was not comfortable emotionally.

"Perhaps that was the big terrible hurt they wanted to save me from! Stop me falling for...silly sailors with...fancy drinks and...and...pretty words!" The wrathful tyrade had dissolved into woefully bad insults.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash watched her anger form like a storm on the horizon when out at sea—the dark clouds rolling in as the last of his words left his salty lips. Her fingers uncurled away from his shirt and she wrenched away from his gentle hands, her eyes narrowing at him, and her tone shifting to something accusatory. Tempestuous was such a tantalizing weakness for the seafaring minstrel—Zanik help him, so much so—but unlike a less experienced man, the Empath did not shy away from her anger. He let it wash over him with a calmness that had Kali been able to at all observe his demeanor in spite of the distraction of her own hurt and frustration, it would most likely have felt uncanny. He relaxed even, letting himself actually watch the threads of her tangle unravel and curl through his magical sight, experiencing the fiery reds and blinding yellows of her anger and fear. The shipwright's son inhaled sharply, but did not move or speak up to stop her.

His expression softened even as the dark-haired Sev’ryn’s hardened, just like the surf that pulled away from the sand always washed back up again. One hand moved to hook a thumb in the colorfully woven strap of his lute, the other hanging gently at his side. Pash didn’t interject, didn’t interrupt, didn’t raise his voice in return—he listened, blue eyes like a tide pool in the sun, rimmed with gold.

Just listened.

And felt.

His words had plucked a chord that hurt, that reverberated through something deeper than the tall Biqaj could completely understand because he was not at all her kind, but he could see it. He watched the colored threads of her tangle react to his words in a way that stirred him just as deeply, only he couldn’t explain that. He didn’t touch a thing, didn’t strum a thread of happiness or knot off her furious defiance. He just … watched, desperate to understand, to find some common ground between them.

Respect for his elders brought back memories of sitting with his grandfather and learning to play the lute, going on crazy adventures in order to meet his strange assignments for practice, and helping his great aunt with large family meals. It was his father who probably expected the most out of him, his father he disappointed most by turning to music instead of building boats, but even then, they'd long since sorted things out between them. His family had some tradition, sure, but perhaps the difference was that tradition included freedom, thank U’Frek. Good family always wanted the best for you. Sure, there was conflict—he had four siblings, for Immortalsake, not to mention the cousins and nieces and nephews and neighbors that made up their messy family unit—but ultimately, somehow, some way, choice was still a part of that best. Life was far too short to miss out on a good celebration or to hold someone down to something that did not suit them just because you felt you needed it more than they did. No, his upbringing and cultural expectations were so vastly different that the Biqaj felt the space between them almost tangibly, a rift of cold current that washed over him at her words.

Still, even as she broke down, hot tears welling in her eyes and silly insults on lovely lips that had just kissed him trills ago, he rolled his shoulders in a shrug and smiled in a way that was both gentle and chiding,

“Kali’rial, no one, an’ I mean no one, can protect you from pain. If they promise y’ that, they’re lyin’ an’ you’re missin’ out on livin’. Your first breath came in th’ beginnin’ from somethin’ very pleasurable, aye,” The calloused hand at his side moved to dig in his pocket for a silver nel like the one she left at his feet in the Square when he first met her, and he held it up between them. In the moonlight, the coin shimmered but so did the silver blood under his tattooed skin, almost like a faint glow for a moment or two as he moved, speaking without a hint of demure shyness about sex and life, “but it also came from your mother’s pain before anyone could hold you as a babe.”

“Y’ jus’ can’t be happy all th’ time. Y’ can’t be safe all th’ time. All that positive, it’s one side o’ this coin—” He flipped it over with his thumb, “All th’ negative, it’s th’ other side. But y’ need both. I can’t pay for nothin’ with half a damn coin. How can y’ know what feels good if y’ don’ know what hurts? How can y’ know you’re full ‘f y’ don’ know you’re hungry? How can y’ really know what safe is ‘f you’ve never been in danger? How can y’ find what you’re lookin’ for if you’ve never been lost? Kali, to feel love, sometimes y’ also have to feel pain, no, no’ sometimes. Every time. There’s a thin line between th’ two, an’ that’s just th’ truth of it. It’s jus’ how things are.”

The seafaring musician could remember when this truth didn’t always sit right with him. Negative experiences still were not his preferred set of emotions, but over the arcs he’d come to terms with how they were an unavoidable part of existence for everyone—everyone—especially as he’d come to explore the emotions of others, to see inside the tangle of their most unspoken feelings. He didn’t like pain any more than the next average mortal. His fascination with feelings did not usually willingly lead him into things that he knew would hurt, but he knew the ache of a broken heart just as much as he knew the sting of a bleeding wound. These experiences were just as valuable to him, if not more so, as the applause of a crowded tavern after a rousing set of music or the lingering pleasures of sharing his bed with someone warm and passionate.

“I’m sorry y’ lost your folks to some unpredictable wildness o’ this dangerous world, but you chose t’ follow ‘n their footsteps an’ be a huntress in spite o’ knowin’ that, didn’t you? Aye, y’ did. I’m sorry I’m no’ Sev’ryn, no’ one bit o’ me, no ma’am, an’ I really, really don’ understand. Sure, I respected m’ Elders, but it’s different. You gotta meet my people t’ understand, no’ base what y’ know o’ me by what your grandda says is true. There’s no common language between us ‘bout that, an’ I can’t think ‘f any words to make sense any more ‘n I can set y’ out in th’ sea on m’ sloop an’ expect y’ to make it back to land without me.”

Pash tucked the coin away before he raised both hands to rest them behind his neck under his long, sun kissed hair, lacing his fingers together and watching the lovely, lithe huntress with an expression of both unveiled desire and quiet apology because he felt both in a way that was conflicting and comforting at the same time,

“You’re out here ‘n an island as sardin’ far from Desnind ‘s y’ can get, Kali’rial. What your Elders prepared y’ for an’ how y’ choose to live by their teachin’ ‘s up t’ you—”

The seafaring minstrel was still disturbingly calm, weathering her storm just like he'd weather one at sea, willing to keep his space from the dark-haired Sev’ryn despite his natural want to console her,

“—Y’ need t’ think for yourself, an’, well, feel for yourself, too. You’re no’ out here lookin’ for a piece o’ them, you’re out here lookin’ for a piece o’ you. Isn’t that why it’s called a familiar?”