Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

If he told her to simply take the shawl off instead of having to continue to wrestle with it, could she be any more distracting than she was now? She didn’t appear inappropriately dressed, not really, so was there a particular usefulness of the item that refused to stay where it belonged? Pash didn’t understand the necessity of unnecessary things, but he kept his gaze from following the motion of her hand to the tanned skin beneath and back again, choosing instead to focus on her lovely face. He grinned at her compliments and chuckled at her admission that he had, indeed, entertained her to her liking. Pleasing her was, of course, more than just enjoyable for himself as well, just as pleasing the crowd was fun but that fun was not his only end.

They paused to sample and enjoy the plate Trudi brought to them, which had a variety Pash had not yet fully explored. It was, without saying really, all delicious. Nothing he would have ever thought to put together on his own, obviously, for his cooking skills were survivable—he wasn’t dead yet—and not quite as abysmal as, say, his handwriting. His creative talents were elsewhere, and he was more than happy to enjoy the fruits of others’ abilities when they tasted so good. The wine was also a good choice, and as Kali’rial spoke, Pash took the moment to politely refill their glasses with a grin.

The tall Biqaj followed her telling of the history of her people with interest, perhaps knowing bits from tales heard and told over the arcs of traveling, but never hearing it all pieced together into one complete tapestry of a story. That Sev’ryn were incomplete without a familiar was a strange revelation, the thought of living any amount of time not feeling whole a concept he could not understand. Like his people, it was an Immortal who formed them, but the Sev’ryn had a cyclical existence that included a mingling of souls. He began to see why Kali valued her Elders—it wasn’t just her being stubborn so much as a cultural necessity for a people who were always connected to the past while living in the present.

He had been rude in his ignorance just trials ago, and while the whole vision of where she came from and who she was didn’t make him feel guilty (again, that was a difficult emotion to trip him up with as it was already), it did give the sensitive, observant musician a better understanding of how the dark-haired huntress lived and thought underneath her lovely, tanned skin.

The idea that she would be meeting a being she already knew, well, at least her soul already knew, somewhat bordered on the intimidating, but he didn’t quite know how to articulate the way such things made him feel—it was both lovely and strange at the same time. Why did anyone need to journey or quest for that, if they both needed each other? Why wait? Why didn’t Familiars wait in Desnind for the return of their other half?

Why did he leave home? What was he doing out in the world, anyway?

Pash chuckled at his own internal musings, not at Kali, tide pool gaze briefly washing to the amber liquid in his wine glass instead of saying anything out loud. That was always his question, wasn’t it? Chewing the inside of his cheek at the revelation he looked back up to study the dark-haired huntress’ face with a shy sort of smile,

“Well, then.” The tall Biqaj considered his words just a trill longer, “An’ that’s why you’re here ’n Scalvoris—this be jus’ a part o’ your journey? Th’ first stop?”

The seafaring minstrel may have asked in a way that revealed his interest in travel. Although, that was really a given, considering his home was a sloop and he was already just as far from home as Kali was, but he was curious nonetheless. Were there other places she felt called to go? Had she dreamed as she said she would? These were stories he didn’t know, and while he felt somewhat simple in comparison, he was hungry to hear more from her lovely lips.

“I don’ have plans t’ go anywhere—”

Pash answered quickly—was it too quickly? could she hear the emotion behind that? he didn’t hide it; he couldn’t—his expression somewhat coy or at least conflicted. No, he was enjoying playing music at Cally’s. Scalvoris Island was interesting; there were places he wanted to explore and things he wanted to do and people he wasn’t ready to not see, Kali’rial obviously on the top of his short list. Obvious to him, anyway. He opened his mouth to say something more on the subject, but Trudi appeared again with their main course, setting out their plates and explaining each intricate detail of the meal.

“Thank y’much.” He smiled at Trudi. Why she tried so hard for the taken ones was beyond him, regardless of the Immortal they both found themselves following and admiring in life. The notch in one’s belt for such a conquest was still just that—another notch—though Pash didn’t collect those any more than he collected coin. One could, most certainly, still seduce the one they were with, regardless of time or familiarity. Once you stopped, then, yes, you were finally boring, but that was definitely a choice. He couldn’t help but play her game, though, if only because he understood it on some levels. Returning her wink, he let her go with a chuckle,“Come back ‘s often ‘s y’like, though don’ blame me if you’re bored … there’s patrons far more excitin’ than us, I’m sure.”

He’d had something to say, but for a moment, once the red-head wandered away, he leaned over his food with a grin, eyes a warm mix of lagoon blue and green in his genuine curiosity, “Did you catch our meal?”

There had to be some tasting before more conversation, though, while everything was fresh and steaming at them. Again, without saying, it was all delicious, but Pash had to mutter it out loud at least once in both languages before making use of that napkin again and finally continuing his train of thought over the wine that had warmed him as much as the food,

“Jus’ ‘cause I’ve traveled don’ mean I’ve never felt stuck.” Pash said simply, quietly, honestly, “When I left home, th’ farthest I’d been was Bayward, which ‘s less than a trial from Ne’Haer anyways. I left m’ family, m’ friends, an’ while I knew I wanted t’ go, while e’ery part o’ me was ready t’ be out seein’ an’ doin’, that didn’t mean it were easy for me. I had hard times an’ I’ve been stuck for all sorts o’ reasons—storms an’ injuries, a heartache ‘r two. Sometimes, I’ve even crawled home ‘cause I didn’t know what else t’ do. This time? Feelin’ stuck, guess what I did?”

He smiled wryly,

“Sailed here.” The tall Biqaj’s tide pool gaze traveled over her person in the unashamed, familiar way he had of admiring her looks, aware that he didn’t need to imagine all he already knew, “M’haps y’ aren’t stuck. M’haps y’ jus’ need t’ figure out what you're expectin’ out o’ where y’ are.”

Pash hadn’t sailed all the way to the edge of the world, to Scalvoris Island, with the intentions to fall into a job like playing background music here at Cally’s (he had always been a center stage sort of Biqaj, after all), to meet anyone who held his attentions so strongly as Kali (because he could have met a handful of someones instead). And yet, here he was. His plans had been … different … but the strange way life had of unraveling itself at its own pace in its own direction had caught him again and he was okay to roll with it. Very okay, honestly. Inspired and curious, he had no complaints.

“I can’t pretend t’ understand your relationship with th’ familiar you’re searchin’ for, but d’ you have t’ do everythin’ alone? ‘Cause you’re no’—” His smile was shy again. Did he mean only himself? No, surely Kali could make friends here other than just him. Was he here for her? Yes. Had she asked, he would have gladly traveled with her, too, though perhaps it was too soon for such questions. He didn’t always enjoy being alone, either, but he did enjoy her company thus far, “—alone, that is. At least ‘s far ‘s I’m concerned.”

There. He didn’t have anywhere to go as long as she didn’t, but that felt like a strange thing to say out loud, no matter how true the conviction was. For now. His interest made him uncomfortable, but not when he was with her. Perhaps later, alone, he’d struggle with these admissions and how a fancy dinner with the dark-haired Sev’ryn made him feel and how those feelings in turn made him worry and struggle. For now, though, he felt bold enough to admit things. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was that he knew he had to go back to work. Maybe it just was.

Pash laughed, quietly given their surroundings and somewhat subdued, “There’s nothin’ t’ thank me for. I’m havin’ a good time on your behalf, too, y’know.”

Their time had not been a favor for someone else—it had been a mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. He chose not to comment when Kali pointed out just how much her grandfather would disapprove of his race, let alone the kind of time the pair of them were spending together. Truth be told, his own family would have preferred him to stick to familiar waters on such matters as well, though he’d never been able to comply with that social expectation of Biqaj culture. Outsiders were far too interesting to leave alone, and he was a repeat offender in terms of overstepping the boundaries his people often placed around themselves in terms of purposeful isolation. Such a pressing insistence on sticking to his own kind had been one of the many things that drove him away, that fanned the flames of his longing to sail and see for himself the wonders and the peoples of Idalos.

He had no regrets.


He’d definitely begun to overdo it on the wine, however, though he blamed it on the delicious food and equally delicious company. The seafaring minstrel glanced to his empty chair by the window, aware he’d have to go back to playing for at least a break or two once their meal was finished, then back to Kali’rial, warm and comfortable in their little bubble of enjoyable conversation, “Unfortunately, a bit o’ distrust ’s jus’ somethin’ I’ve gotten used t’ over th’ arcs as a Biqaj, but sometimes I hope I leave a decent impression in m’ wake. You’ve given me a couple o’ second chances now, eh?”

Pash grinned, teasing the dark-haired Sev’ryn with his tone about the nature of those so-called chances, though dinner together was at least a change of pace. Mostly. He hadn’t missed her brief change of tone about her grandfather, the drinking shifting tides in her ability to filter her thoughts, and the currents of deeper emotions she normally kept to herself rising to the surface,

“Truth be told, I’m no’ always entirely ’n th’ good graces o’ m’ people, o’ m’ family, neither. My folks have some deep connections t’ their clans an’ value family, value bein’ Biqaj, as a big thing—e’eryone else be an outsider an’ sometimes m’ da won’t even do business with folks because o’ who ‘r what they are. So, that’s no’ jus’ a Sev’ryn thing. I can’t say I know how m’ folks’d feel ‘bout meetin’ someone like yourself—as in, with me, no’ off th’ street—but I haven’t really cared ‘bout that in a long time. It should be what’s on th’ inside that matters, no’ where someone comes from.”

The tall Biqaj rolled his shoulders in a shrug, laying his opinions on the matter of racial differences and disapproval on the table between them. He simply could not bring his salty self to care—he’d come across so many different people in his travels and it didn’t matter who they were or where they came from in the end. It had always mattered on what moved them from the inside to make the choices they did—who they were—instead of what they looked like. It was a common mistake, really, to decide that only your kind was better, and while he held no ill will toward the Sev’ryn’s view of Biqaj any more than he held toward the Biqaj view of the world at large, he just couldn’t quite fit himself into that expectation … his insatiable hunger for people and their stories kept him from such blindness.

Changing the subject with a wry sort of grin and a bit of color rising to his cheeks, he leaned his elbows on the table, hands reaching across for hers with a softer smile, the hushed baritone of his voice somewhat conspiratory,

“So, after dessert, I gotta go back an’ play some for a break ‘r two. Didja want t’ stay an’ listen? It’s kinda’ interestin’ watchin’ th’ folks that come an’ eat here—besides us, o’ course.” He laughed again, at himself mostly, for even though he worked at Cally’s, he still often felt out of place, “Then we can, y’know, leave together?