As Dra'lix became more and more entranced in his own song, his eyes closed and his thoughts drifted back to times before, the memories of his time in the forest his Mother called home. Val'shiaa had always been such a tranquil place: one that soothed the young mage. His mother's voice seemed to mingle with his own in the hazy memory, the beauty and serenity of her voice channelling into his as the song that had meant so much in his youth echoed from his soul. The words were foreign to most; the language of the Wild’har had so rarely left the confines of their forest homes. When it did, the reaction was often mixed. Some found it a guttural language, full of animalistic sounds and tones and words that didn't seem fit for the human tongue. Others found it to be a beautiful and natural dialect. Filled with intricacies that made common seem closer to a bawling baby's babbling than an actual language.
In the Third choral point, Dra'lix's eye peeked open and, much to his shock, he spotted a startling sight: A woman whose size was well over a head above his own. The sight of the tattooed woman, sitting calm and wide eyed opposite him made his tone falter, if only for a second, and he noticed a slight change in her calmed demeanour. It was clear that she had only sat opposite because of the heartfelt song he was happily sharing: So redoubling his efforts, he regained the lost melody of his voice, aiming to finish the song to perfection. He closed his eyes firmer, not because he was thinking of the memories of his distantly located mother, who likely still sat in the confines of her hut in the forest, or hunted a savage beast in the forest, but because if he opened his eyes: he'd be caught staring at the somewhat intimidating huntress opposite him. He was once again thankful for his race. Since Mandi-har, being so dark skinned, did not have the ability to blush. Were he any other race, his cheeks would be crimson at the realisation that someone had not only noticed him singing amongst the hub-bub of the crowd, but had taken the time to engage him so that they could listen. He had rarely shared anything of his artistic side with any audience: let alone complete strangers. He had only sung on impulse, emboldened by his morning ritual and hiding under the knowledge that most people simply wouldn't hear or wouldn't care about his song.
As his lullaby reached his Climax and his voice fell silent, Dra'lix held his eyes shut for a few more seconds, affording him the opportunity to regain some of his composure before starting the ever daunting task of striking conversation with the woman opposite him. He had no idea who or what she was apart from a few rumours about a hulking human woman who went by the name of 'Daisy.' He assumed that she was the one that people whispered about. Saying slanders about her 'dim nature' and her 'cursed form'. The Mandi-har would not believe slander of any form about a woman, especially one whose form was so intimidating. The Racial traits had him believe that all women were deserving of respect. No matter race, religion or any other factor. He recalled a saying of his father: 'To make a great man, a woman must have laboured for months on end. To make a great woman, a man has only to do one tiny deed.' The irony of the joking phrase was not lost on Dra'lix, but it was certainly a witty way to put it.
Opening his eyes, Dra'lix took a moment to analyse Daisy, to take in the muscular form of the woman who had become his audience. She was a truly fierce looking woman and he didn't doubt that, should she desire to: he would make remarkably easy and remarkably boring prey. He didn't know what to say to the woman though. She shared no common ground with him other than an appreciation for music. Her eyes widened as she stirred from her otherwise bewitched state. She looked the mage over, as if deciding whether to take offence in his presence. Dra’lix could only give a respectful nod to the woman, after a moment, the giantess would nod in return. A sign that he’d passed the first test. The next step was a far more complex one: different women demanded differing second steps of respect. Working on the assumption that she was a huntress, the next step would be to try and provide something to the woman. To try and sooth her from the standing position into one that would ease her: to that means, he called upon his reserves of magic, deciding to use the simplest form of magic he had.
Telekinesis is a reasonably easy magic to use and a fairly easy one to comprehend. He used it to steal a plate of food from the side, cooked meats and fresh fruits piling onto a plate as if guided by the hands of a hungry phantasm. The plate was then brought to the table and placed in between them with a delicate 'thud'. The magic itself was fairly bland, untouched by the gods. It had neither darkness nor light in its hold, and due to its unknown nature would have the opposite effect to what Dra’lix wanted; the woman seemed tenser by his frivolous use of magic, Much to Dra’lix’s annoyance.
Realising he’d need to defuse the situation, Dra’lix reached for an apple, the Dark skinned elf would take a bite, then, with an open gesture, he'd offer the same plate of food to the woman opposite him. It was a simple act, offering food and proving its safety was one thing: but the woman seemed to get outraged by the act, her heckles raised at the act of innocent ignorance. She bore the look of a hunter, so maybe having to eat such trivial food would be a bore to her. Maybe she would refuse to eat anything that she did not hunt: it was impossible to guess though. She bore a look of annoyance, of mild disgust at Dra’lix’s ignorance to the culture she hailed from. The rules of Ishlaun were nowhere near as strict in the regards of Mandi culture; mainly due to the fact that it was such a diverse culture. Dra’lix felt he needed to reach a new level of communication; something that would distract her from her lack of knowledge about the culture she was so used to.
Reaching a hand up to his face, he ran three fingers over his tattoo, forcing him to close one of his eye lids as he sketched the claw mark tattoo that adorned his face. He spoke up; not knowing the woman was a mute. " I got this tattoo as an honour to my mother. She is a hunter in her tribe. " Pausing for a moment, he raised the same fingers that had traced his tattoo and pointed at one of her own. " what do yours mean? " Dra'lix looked at the woman, not sure how she would react: if she would react. He struck gold as the woman seemingly gained an interest as he explained about the tattoo marking. His finger was pointing to a marking on her arm, a band that looked foreign to him. He’d seen many Mandi style tattoos in his time, some of the tattoos were recognisably of that style, although he didn’t know what they meant to her. It was the more unusual ones that interested him.
Dra’lix would watch as Daisy attempted to communicate with him, fascinated by the way she tried to communicate her meanings and conveying the meaning of the tattoo without the use of words. Dra’lix would feel crippled without his words; words were the artistic representation of thought: words were so powerful! Without them, the Mandi-har would feel utterly naked. Daisy spoke through different utterances; Grunts and clicks and whistles which Dra’lix failed to understand. A look of mild frustration crept over Dra’lix futile attempts at understanding. As annoyed as his facial expressions conveyed, Daisy wore a face of mild amusement: as if used to the phenomenon. Slowly she started whistling. The tune was at first shaky and off, an un-sprouted weed of knowledge that rapidly grew as it was sustained by Daisy’s tune. The song echoed a popular Mandi-har tune, a tune of battle; of marching and drumming and the pursuit of Mortina’s perfect nullification. Dra’lix smiled broadly, understanding on his face for the first time. “ I get it, it’s a war tattoo; maybe in honour of a good fight? Or perhaps a good hunt? ” He pointed to another unfamiliar tattoo, another which screamed of being uniquely unfamiliar to the Mandi-har, eager to continue the conversation.
Before Daisy started the chant for whatever other tattoo he’d pointed out, Dra’lix’s attention was caught by something else: A presence that was altogether unfamiliar to him. Turning his head he spotted the woman, pilfering food. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the ferocious noise emanating from Daisy. It was clear the behemoth was after blood for a transgression the elf was unaware of. He would probably not have intervened, were it not for her many curious features; her oddly coloured hair: grey despite her seemingly young age, her pretty face and, most peculiar and most fascinating to the Elf, mismatched eyes. He could instantly recognise her as a half-breed. It was a cruel moniker, but it was the only accurate one: His own unusual eyes a reminder of the inescapable nature of heritage. He stood from his seat, looking at the woman who had seemingly stumbled in on the group. She didn’t wear the clothing of a member of the Silver Leaves, although it seemed nigh-impossible for her to have snuck in.
Looking at the woman, staring into her mismatched eyes with his own diamond like eyes, Dra’lix offered a place at the table with a wave and a gesture. “ Come, sit. You can be a guest of Daisy and I. Share some of the food, I got it to be shared anyway. ” His looked at the behemoth, trying to flatter her. If the woman was the shared guest of the elf and the huntress, that would mean she couldn’t be any sort of intruder. As difficult as it was, Dra’lix was attempting to defuse a potentially volatile situation with just a few words. If it would work was yet to be seen. It would depend on the reactions of the two women.