First post is up, filled in a little of the background but left the forward details a bit vague so you could elaborate if you wanted.
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LadyAnnaLee
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Rohaan hadn't been sure of how Berlin would react to their plan. When they'd visited and told him they had a plan for what would be arguably the biggest heist in history, he simply laughed and said, "Oh ho ho! So you've actually got a plan for once!" Rohaan rarely ever planned much beyond maybe peeking in through a window, or perhaps watching the changes of guards. A trait that would one day get him killed, Berlin always scolded. But as the isfahaan, the siblings, told him the details of their plan, the old pirate nearly teared up with fatherly pride.
"Damn if you two really haven't grown up...ah! You've both come so far from picking pockets." It was as if they'd announced they were starting their own business venture, or were betrothed to be married. In a way, one of them sort of was. Gaining Berlin's approval had not been strictly necessary, but to Rohaan at least, it meant the world to him. He learned everything he knew about cons and heists and outright piracy from him, and still considered the old man to be a master at his trade.
The preparation had taken a while. There was so much groundwork to lay, both materially and socially. Rohaan had spent a lot of time sourcing (stealing) materials for rich clothing for Vequaniel to wear. He insisted the outfits be real and not the work of their telepathic magic, or some other form of illusion. Illusions could be broken, and were tiresome to keep up. Fabric would last. He even made off with a horse and carriage for them, though that proved to be an especially bloody venture. Horses and other animals feared Rohaan, as they did most shifters, and the poor beast bolted in a panic all the way back to their hideout while Rohaan drove the carriage in a drugged stupor from a poisoned blade someone had cut him with in the encounter. He was bedridden for a day and a half after that. But the carriage was repainted so as not to be identified, and the horse was soothed and mostly kept away from Rohaan. Before long, Vequaniel had all the trappings of an upper class socialite.
There was a reputation to build, too. If the public and the courts were going to believe Vequaniel was some yet-unheard of person of wealth and dignity and standing, then they needed to know of them before meeting them. The pair spread rumors, forged papers, sent gifts, and eventually wrote letters to important people in order to establish them. Now, it was time to put all their hard work to the test.
Rohaan checked over the carriage one last time, making the horse whinny and stamp and toss her head as he passed. He sighed. "You might want to convince that thing I won't eat it." He Hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the poor beast. "I've got a feeling we'll be...getting to know each other in this venture. Wouldn't do to have you ride into town pulled by a mad horse, now would it?" Rohaan picked something out of his teeth with the small knife he kept in his boot--more of a tool than a weapon. He was practically feral when Berlin found him, and though he'd civilized some as an adult, that wild, animal nature had not wholly left him. Compared to his sibling, he was far more rough, crass, uncouth, and unkempt. He had a dangerous, weathered look about him, and a loose moral compass to match it.
"Well, you about ready, then?"
"Damn if you two really haven't grown up...ah! You've both come so far from picking pockets." It was as if they'd announced they were starting their own business venture, or were betrothed to be married. In a way, one of them sort of was. Gaining Berlin's approval had not been strictly necessary, but to Rohaan at least, it meant the world to him. He learned everything he knew about cons and heists and outright piracy from him, and still considered the old man to be a master at his trade.
The preparation had taken a while. There was so much groundwork to lay, both materially and socially. Rohaan had spent a lot of time sourcing (stealing) materials for rich clothing for Vequaniel to wear. He insisted the outfits be real and not the work of their telepathic magic, or some other form of illusion. Illusions could be broken, and were tiresome to keep up. Fabric would last. He even made off with a horse and carriage for them, though that proved to be an especially bloody venture. Horses and other animals feared Rohaan, as they did most shifters, and the poor beast bolted in a panic all the way back to their hideout while Rohaan drove the carriage in a drugged stupor from a poisoned blade someone had cut him with in the encounter. He was bedridden for a day and a half after that. But the carriage was repainted so as not to be identified, and the horse was soothed and mostly kept away from Rohaan. Before long, Vequaniel had all the trappings of an upper class socialite.
There was a reputation to build, too. If the public and the courts were going to believe Vequaniel was some yet-unheard of person of wealth and dignity and standing, then they needed to know of them before meeting them. The pair spread rumors, forged papers, sent gifts, and eventually wrote letters to important people in order to establish them. Now, it was time to put all their hard work to the test.
Rohaan checked over the carriage one last time, making the horse whinny and stamp and toss her head as he passed. He sighed. "You might want to convince that thing I won't eat it." He Hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the poor beast. "I've got a feeling we'll be...getting to know each other in this venture. Wouldn't do to have you ride into town pulled by a mad horse, now would it?" Rohaan picked something out of his teeth with the small knife he kept in his boot--more of a tool than a weapon. He was practically feral when Berlin found him, and though he'd civilized some as an adult, that wild, animal nature had not wholly left him. Compared to his sibling, he was far more rough, crass, uncouth, and unkempt. He had a dangerous, weathered look about him, and a loose moral compass to match it.
"Well, you about ready, then?"
Ok cool.
Also I definitely feel like Rohaan could pretty immediately identify that they had once been abused somehow just because he also had been, and could relate and probably took a liking to them faster than most. Sort of imagining their first couple of nights, Rohaan slept near them in a Wolf form as something of a protector. Rohaan is a violent bastard but super affectionate to those he cares about.
Also I definitely feel like Rohaan could pretty immediately identify that they had once been abused somehow just because he also had been, and could relate and probably took a liking to them faster than most. Sort of imagining their first couple of nights, Rohaan slept near them in a Wolf form as something of a protector. Rohaan is a violent bastard but super affectionate to those he cares about.
One question, how does he refer to them? I’m gathering they’re semi gender neutral or something? Like would he say “this is my sister/brother/sibling/other term?”
Excellent, these two will be fun.
.
Berlin was silent as Wheel explained Millie. He wondered how close they'd been, but only privately. That was the sort of question he might ask Uban, who would answer openly and honestly without fail. Damn fool was the most honest cutthroat he'd ever met, he thought as he looked at the younger man, who'd answered their guest with, "Damn right I do!" before he began to play a jaunty tune. But he doubted that was a question Wheel would be keen to answer, and as it wasn't crucial, Berlin did not press.
"Aye, that's good wine. I'll take all I can stomach." It was indeed good wine, and Berlin was going to see to it he got his share before it all ran out. He briefly considered giving Rohaan a little--just a little. It might settle him, he thought, though he couldn't imagine the boy calming down enough to hold anything in his hands he didn't intend to throw. Perhaps it was best he didn't.
Uban couldn't help but laugh a little at Hana, though with Uban, it was impossible to imagine that his laugh was in any way mocking. It was too genuine. He even tried to conceal it, but in the end he failed at that and allowed himself to openly and uncontrollably laugh as he plucked gently on the strings of his lute. His laugh cut short as an off note sounded, and with his usual mutter of, "Damn..." he looked down at his left, nine-fingered hand as though it had betrayed him. He smiled back up at Hana.
"You ought to get you another pour! Nothing gets you sea-legs better than good ol' booze." There was some kernel of truth to that, however tiny. At the very least, if one was relaxed, it would be easier to move with the undulations of the ship, or at least that's how Uban reasoned it. Though he wasn't sure there was much to prepare a person for a sudden til like that one except for hard-won instinct. Uban had been a tumbling, seasick mess his first week or so aboard the Borealis. It was longer before he really had the hang of it.
To Kaga-Met, and still while plucking the requested tune, he asked, "You're ah, Kaga-Met, right? Did I say that right? What's home like, mate? Er...where is home...?"
It was Berlin who answered. Normally he would have let Kaga-Met answer that, but this was an odd subject and he preferred to deal with it himself. More importantly, he wanted to be sure it wasn't said too loudly. Hearing the name again would likely only fuel Rohaan's rage. He spoke softly and pointedly, "They're from Bariz, Uban."
At first, Uban nodded once and made a simple noise of acknowledgment as though he'd never heard of the place, and then his eyes widened a little as they flicked towards the door to Berlin's cabin. "OH." He cringed a little, but not at their guests. "Oh..." he said with a note of understanding. Uban seemed to gather without being expressly told that there was some fundamental difference between this lot and the Barizians they were tracking. He doubted Berlin would let them on the ship otherwise. He looked back to Kaga-Met. "Well now I'm doubly curious. Innit warm there all the time? Or most of the time? Or am I thinking somewhere else?"
Rohaan's hurricane was beginning to slow a little as he burned through his energy, feeling more and more taxed. Mostly emotionally. He couldn't decide between hiding under the strewn linens of Berlin's bed, or throwing the wooden chair around again, or maybe really lighting something on fire. He paced and stomped and clenched his fists until he decided he felt too exposed, and he did want to hide. He snatched up one of the blankets from the floor and wrapped himself in it, and if it was possible to malicously throw himself down on the mattress, he did. The thick weave of the blanket was a comforting texture, at least. It was familiar and grounding, and made him think more of the present than the past. He did not want to think about the past. But the present was scary, too. He tried to exist in the space between, but it did not avail him. A pervasive thought pounded away in his mind like a drum, despite all that Berlin had once said to the contrary.
They've come back for me.
No, that wasn't right, that couldn't be right. But he couldn't shake the feeling anyway. It didn't matter what he told himself, that fear did not go away. And yet...he was not the same boy as he was the last time he had encounters with Barizians. He was harder now, stronger, fiercer. He was ready for them now. If only he'd been like this back then, if only he'd been just a little stronger, maybe he would still be on the shores of his home. That couldn't be helped back then, but things were different now. This was his home, and he'd be damned if he let someone take his home from him again. He would not let them take him again.
No.
No, he would not be a victim. Not again, not ever. So despite feeling still like he wanted to burrow deep into the mattress and hide there, he resolved that he needed to be more active if he was going to defend himself, and his home. Last time, he ran. But not this time.
The door to the captain's quarters burst open hard enough that they slammed against the framing as they opened, and bounced back a little. It was not a boy in the doorway, but a man. Rohaan felt vulnerable and insecure, so he'd compensate by wearing his adult shape in the hopes that the height and extra muscle would buy him some respect. What's more, he had something to say and wanted his voice to be heard. He wanted it to resonate in a way only an adult shape could accomplish. Berlin was alert immediately, and was already crossing the distance between them as Rohaan stormed straight up to Kaga-Met. His hand lifted like he was about to reach for the man, but Berlin got there first and clamped his own, much larger hand around his wrist. The two froze for a second, locking eyes while Berlin tried desperately to guess Rohaan's intentions, and Rohaan seemed to be waiting for a Command from Berlin, for some use of silent force. Berlin did not use even one iota of his magic, despite having a firm grip on the shifter's wrist. He was poised and ready to, but he wanted to see what Rohaan would do, first. In that hesitation was trust, and it did not go unnoticed by the shifter.
He turned his hard blue gaze away from Berlin and back to Kaga-met, looking every bit as fierce and dangerous as a growling, bristling wolf. "YOU," he barked, jabbing one finger of his free hand towards the man, though he was not close enough to make contact. "I got something to say to you! If you're really here to kill these...these..." He spat to the side. "Defilers, if you really want them dead, and that's all you want, then fine." It wasn't fine, not really, but he didn't have the words for anything else. "But if you touch me, or if you hurt my family, I'll fucking eat you." He made sure that word was adequately heard. And he meant it. Nevermind that it was actually a logistical nightmare, he'd do it if they even thought about harming him or his crewmates. It was an abhorrent act among his own people, but it was still not out of the question in extreme cases.
"Rheoaan!" Berlin barked, warningly. Truthfully, if they ever did do any harm to his crew, he'd let the shifter do as he pleased with them. But it was unhelpful to start an alliance with that, and it was not Rohaan's place. "Sit down." his voice was low and dangerous, but again, there was no magical command.
"No!" Rohaan stamped his foot. His gaze locked back onto Kaga-Met. There was murder in his eyes, barely restrained but still, restrained. "Look me in the eye and swear to me. Promise you won't hurt us. Promise you won't hurt me." Despite all his very real anger and his loud, adult-bravado, it was impossible to remove the stain of fear from his words. It was the kind of fear that drove animals to bite and snap, but it was fear all the same. And while Rohaan certainly did have the capability to make good on his threat, beneath all that anger and raw power was still a terrified boy, far from home and haunted by the ghosts of past evils.
"Aye, that's good wine. I'll take all I can stomach." It was indeed good wine, and Berlin was going to see to it he got his share before it all ran out. He briefly considered giving Rohaan a little--just a little. It might settle him, he thought, though he couldn't imagine the boy calming down enough to hold anything in his hands he didn't intend to throw. Perhaps it was best he didn't.
Uban couldn't help but laugh a little at Hana, though with Uban, it was impossible to imagine that his laugh was in any way mocking. It was too genuine. He even tried to conceal it, but in the end he failed at that and allowed himself to openly and uncontrollably laugh as he plucked gently on the strings of his lute. His laugh cut short as an off note sounded, and with his usual mutter of, "Damn..." he looked down at his left, nine-fingered hand as though it had betrayed him. He smiled back up at Hana.
"You ought to get you another pour! Nothing gets you sea-legs better than good ol' booze." There was some kernel of truth to that, however tiny. At the very least, if one was relaxed, it would be easier to move with the undulations of the ship, or at least that's how Uban reasoned it. Though he wasn't sure there was much to prepare a person for a sudden til like that one except for hard-won instinct. Uban had been a tumbling, seasick mess his first week or so aboard the Borealis. It was longer before he really had the hang of it.
To Kaga-Met, and still while plucking the requested tune, he asked, "You're ah, Kaga-Met, right? Did I say that right? What's home like, mate? Er...where is home...?"
It was Berlin who answered. Normally he would have let Kaga-Met answer that, but this was an odd subject and he preferred to deal with it himself. More importantly, he wanted to be sure it wasn't said too loudly. Hearing the name again would likely only fuel Rohaan's rage. He spoke softly and pointedly, "They're from Bariz, Uban."
At first, Uban nodded once and made a simple noise of acknowledgment as though he'd never heard of the place, and then his eyes widened a little as they flicked towards the door to Berlin's cabin. "OH." He cringed a little, but not at their guests. "Oh..." he said with a note of understanding. Uban seemed to gather without being expressly told that there was some fundamental difference between this lot and the Barizians they were tracking. He doubted Berlin would let them on the ship otherwise. He looked back to Kaga-Met. "Well now I'm doubly curious. Innit warm there all the time? Or most of the time? Or am I thinking somewhere else?"
Rohaan's hurricane was beginning to slow a little as he burned through his energy, feeling more and more taxed. Mostly emotionally. He couldn't decide between hiding under the strewn linens of Berlin's bed, or throwing the wooden chair around again, or maybe really lighting something on fire. He paced and stomped and clenched his fists until he decided he felt too exposed, and he did want to hide. He snatched up one of the blankets from the floor and wrapped himself in it, and if it was possible to malicously throw himself down on the mattress, he did. The thick weave of the blanket was a comforting texture, at least. It was familiar and grounding, and made him think more of the present than the past. He did not want to think about the past. But the present was scary, too. He tried to exist in the space between, but it did not avail him. A pervasive thought pounded away in his mind like a drum, despite all that Berlin had once said to the contrary.
They've come back for me.
No, that wasn't right, that couldn't be right. But he couldn't shake the feeling anyway. It didn't matter what he told himself, that fear did not go away. And yet...he was not the same boy as he was the last time he had encounters with Barizians. He was harder now, stronger, fiercer. He was ready for them now. If only he'd been like this back then, if only he'd been just a little stronger, maybe he would still be on the shores of his home. That couldn't be helped back then, but things were different now. This was his home, and he'd be damned if he let someone take his home from him again. He would not let them take him again.
No.
No, he would not be a victim. Not again, not ever. So despite feeling still like he wanted to burrow deep into the mattress and hide there, he resolved that he needed to be more active if he was going to defend himself, and his home. Last time, he ran. But not this time.
The door to the captain's quarters burst open hard enough that they slammed against the framing as they opened, and bounced back a little. It was not a boy in the doorway, but a man. Rohaan felt vulnerable and insecure, so he'd compensate by wearing his adult shape in the hopes that the height and extra muscle would buy him some respect. What's more, he had something to say and wanted his voice to be heard. He wanted it to resonate in a way only an adult shape could accomplish. Berlin was alert immediately, and was already crossing the distance between them as Rohaan stormed straight up to Kaga-Met. His hand lifted like he was about to reach for the man, but Berlin got there first and clamped his own, much larger hand around his wrist. The two froze for a second, locking eyes while Berlin tried desperately to guess Rohaan's intentions, and Rohaan seemed to be waiting for a Command from Berlin, for some use of silent force. Berlin did not use even one iota of his magic, despite having a firm grip on the shifter's wrist. He was poised and ready to, but he wanted to see what Rohaan would do, first. In that hesitation was trust, and it did not go unnoticed by the shifter.
He turned his hard blue gaze away from Berlin and back to Kaga-met, looking every bit as fierce and dangerous as a growling, bristling wolf. "YOU," he barked, jabbing one finger of his free hand towards the man, though he was not close enough to make contact. "I got something to say to you! If you're really here to kill these...these..." He spat to the side. "Defilers, if you really want them dead, and that's all you want, then fine." It wasn't fine, not really, but he didn't have the words for anything else. "But if you touch me, or if you hurt my family, I'll fucking eat you." He made sure that word was adequately heard. And he meant it. Nevermind that it was actually a logistical nightmare, he'd do it if they even thought about harming him or his crewmates. It was an abhorrent act among his own people, but it was still not out of the question in extreme cases.
"Rheoaan!" Berlin barked, warningly. Truthfully, if they ever did do any harm to his crew, he'd let the shifter do as he pleased with them. But it was unhelpful to start an alliance with that, and it was not Rohaan's place. "Sit down." his voice was low and dangerous, but again, there was no magical command.
"No!" Rohaan stamped his foot. His gaze locked back onto Kaga-Met. There was murder in his eyes, barely restrained but still, restrained. "Look me in the eye and swear to me. Promise you won't hurt us. Promise you won't hurt me." Despite all his very real anger and his loud, adult-bravado, it was impossible to remove the stain of fear from his words. It was the kind of fear that drove animals to bite and snap, but it was fear all the same. And while Rohaan certainly did have the capability to make good on his threat, beneath all that anger and raw power was still a terrified boy, far from home and haunted by the ghosts of past evils.
Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen
Age: 28
Height: 6'
Build: Lean, scarred. One of his ribs is crooked because it was broken as a child and never set right.
Hair: Pale blonde and wildly curly. Some strands are more like waves, others are corkscrews, and everything in between. It's always an absolute mess, and he usually has it back in a ponytail, except for a small braid that sits in front of his right ear, and is adorned with a little lapis bead.
Eyes: These are important. Shifter eyes are very distinct and very identifiable. They are a lurid cobalt blue, like lapis lazuli. All shifters have this trait, and despite their shifting abilities, cannot change them. They are used to identify shifters, which are not accepted as safe members of society.
On shifters: Their blood is silver, which they also cannot change, giving rise to the slur 'silverblood'. They can change their shape, humanoid or animal, into anything sentient (AKA not coral or a jellyfish or something not wholly intelligent) and anything real (so no three headed dog, unless that's a thing that exists in the universe). They can copy people. There are certain enchantments that can be bestowed upon objects (like a shackle) that can inhibit a shifter. You can also prevent them from shifting if they're severely injured, sick, malnourished, or otherwise unwell.
Backstory: Rohaan is from a small, uncharted tropical island somewhere off the southern coast. When he was 8, slavers came and raided the village, capturing him and several other children. Rohaan eventually escaped, but by then he was further north and nowhere near his home. He survived, barely, on the street for a little while before he found Berlin. He picked the man's pocket and was caught, and Berlin, a pirate and a master thief, saw his very bad condition and took him in. The transition was difficult, as Rohaan and Berlin did not speak the same language, and he proved to be violent, defensive, bitter, and difficult to manage. But Berlin had a magical ability to control people via touch, and so he was able to keep Rohaan from (seriously) hurting anyone. Berlin was a patient man and earned his trust, and has since become a father figure to Rohaan.
Personality: Fearless, bold, arrogant, likes to stir trouble, generally easygoing until his anger is stirred, and then he is a terror. He's a 'live fast, die hard' type.
Age: 28
Height: 6'
Build: Lean, scarred. One of his ribs is crooked because it was broken as a child and never set right.
Hair: Pale blonde and wildly curly. Some strands are more like waves, others are corkscrews, and everything in between. It's always an absolute mess, and he usually has it back in a ponytail, except for a small braid that sits in front of his right ear, and is adorned with a little lapis bead.
Eyes: These are important. Shifter eyes are very distinct and very identifiable. They are a lurid cobalt blue, like lapis lazuli. All shifters have this trait, and despite their shifting abilities, cannot change them. They are used to identify shifters, which are not accepted as safe members of society.
On shifters: Their blood is silver, which they also cannot change, giving rise to the slur 'silverblood'. They can change their shape, humanoid or animal, into anything sentient (AKA not coral or a jellyfish or something not wholly intelligent) and anything real (so no three headed dog, unless that's a thing that exists in the universe). They can copy people. There are certain enchantments that can be bestowed upon objects (like a shackle) that can inhibit a shifter. You can also prevent them from shifting if they're severely injured, sick, malnourished, or otherwise unwell.
Backstory: Rohaan is from a small, uncharted tropical island somewhere off the southern coast. When he was 8, slavers came and raided the village, capturing him and several other children. Rohaan eventually escaped, but by then he was further north and nowhere near his home. He survived, barely, on the street for a little while before he found Berlin. He picked the man's pocket and was caught, and Berlin, a pirate and a master thief, saw his very bad condition and took him in. The transition was difficult, as Rohaan and Berlin did not speak the same language, and he proved to be violent, defensive, bitter, and difficult to manage. But Berlin had a magical ability to control people via touch, and so he was able to keep Rohaan from (seriously) hurting anyone. Berlin was a patient man and earned his trust, and has since become a father figure to Rohaan.
Personality: Fearless, bold, arrogant, likes to stir trouble, generally easygoing until his anger is stirred, and then he is a terror. He's a 'live fast, die hard' type.
Ridahne smiled at Darin. "Don't worry. He's not so prickly and sharp as me, but he is made of steel just the same. You'll see." She kissed Ajoran's forehead and went off in search of a good vessel and, more importantly, the kind of person she could convince to take them out. They wouldn't have to go far, but she needed to make it worth a captain's while. A younger, more inexperienced captain would not deign to take orders from her, no matter what her perceived rank in society. But an older one, she might bargain with. After walking down the wharf a bit, she found two men seated on some crates and hunched over mugs of coffee. Must have been spice traders, not fishermen, she thought.
"Good morning. Which vessel is yours?" Ridahne grew up around ships and knew it was polite to ask about a captain's ship, first, before anything else. This was not commonly known, even among the Azurei, and the question immediately marked her as someone who knew the ways of sailors.
The men studied her, looking first at her face and then at the rest of her, as if they hoped that would give her more clues as to who this person was. "This one." The elder of the two gestured at a slim boat built for carrying cargo, bobbing up and down in the waves just beyond them. "Sun among Rain, she's called. You ever seen sun shine through a rainstorm?"
"Aye, I have. Tell me, Rheisun," she said, looking at his blue stone ku'o in his ear, "Are you voyaging today?"
"Voyaging!" The second man said--he likely was the first mate. He snorted and laughed bitterly. "And here I had a guess you knew what you were talking about, maiden! Ain't you seen the waters? I don't trust it. My cargo is too valuable to risk getting dashed among the waves, not to mention my crew!"
The first man, who Ridahne took to be the captain, shook his head slowly. "Aye, I don't think we'll be setting sail today, Torzinei. Why'd you ask?"
"Because," Ridahne said, as if this information seemed obvious. "I want to book passage on your ship."
The captain's eyes narrowed at her. "We don't take passengers, Torzinei."
"Not usually. But today, I'm asking you to. I don't need to go far, just the mouth of the bay."
That made both of them look at her with hard expressions, wondering what sort of business she had going to the mouth of the bay and back... And then Ridahne saw something click, the revelation showing on their weathered faces. But they were older men, though their dark hair did not yet show gray like Amaiera-Sol's. And they knew how to navigate troubled waters. "Who are you?"
Ridahne leaned in close, her tone gaining an edge. "Someone who should not be ignored."
The younger of the two cowered a little, but the elder stayed firm and kept studying her ojih. Finally, he said, "You're her, ain't you? The one they talk about. The Sol-Slayer?"
Ridahne allowed a small smile. "And so much more..."
"I ought to turn you over to the Sols..."
"A lot of good that would do. I've spoken to them already. Where do you think this came from?" She pointed to the nimarih on her brow.
"What do you want, Betrayer?" The captain asked, unable to argue with her and yet unwilling to cooperate just yet.
"As I said. Take me and my two companions to the mouth of the bay, and when we have conducted our business, we return here. I can offer you a small sum in exchange..." She put a few gold coins down on one of the crates between them.
The captain frowned. "My soul can't be bought. Can you say the same, Torzinei?"
Ridahne just sighed and scooped up the coins. She tossed her dark hair and said with a sigh, "Well, that's fine. You looked like you could use the business today. And it's not every day you get to aid Astra-Sol and her Guardian...but evidently you have no desire to do business with the likes of me, so perhaps I'll find someone who--"
"Wait...did you say Astra-Sol?" he spoke the words quietly, almost a whisper so no one else could hear. "You're...her...?"
"Guardian, yes." Ridahne waved a dismissive hand. "I did tell you I was not one to be ignored..." Normally Ridahne would not reveal that kind of information to just anyone, and not without Darin's permission. But they'd surely find out as soon as they went out, anyway, so Ridahne saw no harm in telling them. Sailors were a superstitious lot anyway, so it was best to prepare them for what was to come.
The captain knew no servant of the Tree could be wicked. It was hard for him to reconcile the image of the Betrayer with a servant of the Tree, much less her. But then, it did add up. Why else would the Sol's spare her, and near pardon her? "My apologies, Guardian. I seem to be...lacking in the details of your story." He eyed her ojih again, specifically the newer markings he was unfamiliar with. He decided she must be a person of great destiny if she had penned new marks in the Book. He made a mental note to find out what they meant as soon as he was able.
"Yes, you and most people. No matter." She offered up the coins again. "What say you?"
"I would be honored to serve the needs of Astra-Sol."
Ridahne smirked. "That's what I thought."
--
"Taja Torzinei!" He chuckled as his eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his ojih. "Ah, but I suppose you're right. If you are Astra-Sol, then she is taja. Though I hope you understand the significance of those three words. She is taja. She'd be the first." He seemed to be chewing that over for a moment in his head before a soft smile touched his lips and he repeated, "Taja Torzinei...yes. Yes, that fits. And soon you'll have two of those!" He ribbed her lightly with his elbow. Soon they would both be Taja Torzinei, and he would no longer be Taja Teleisun.
"Do I love her?" Ajoran laughed. "Oh boy...what a question." He smiled at her. "I could tell you yes, and it would be an honest answer, but it would not do the full answer justice. Ah, have you ever stood out in a really nasty storm? And just let the rain pelt your face and the wind whip your loose hair, and there's a crack of thunder some ways off and you realize the world is so much bigger than you? And you just feel alive, standing there in the middle of Astra's fury?" He sighed, almost dreamily. "She is my storm, Darin. And I am a small ship, helpless in its wake...Yes, I love her. I'd give her the moon, if that was possible. And I intend to spend my long life by her side. I know she'll have to go when you do, and she'll be gone again for some time, still. I've understood this since she came. But I am content. To know that she loves me enough to make me hers is enough for my heart until the day she returns to me. And if she cannot return someday for some reason? Then I shall track her down and follow wherever she goes. There was once a time when she tried to push me away to try and distance me from her sins, and would not relent no matter how much I protested--and oh, I did. But she couldn't keep me away. Not really." He smiled. "I am very proud to know that my Isfahan will be off serving Astra, and you also. It's more than I could have hoped for."
"Good morning. Which vessel is yours?" Ridahne grew up around ships and knew it was polite to ask about a captain's ship, first, before anything else. This was not commonly known, even among the Azurei, and the question immediately marked her as someone who knew the ways of sailors.
The men studied her, looking first at her face and then at the rest of her, as if they hoped that would give her more clues as to who this person was. "This one." The elder of the two gestured at a slim boat built for carrying cargo, bobbing up and down in the waves just beyond them. "Sun among Rain, she's called. You ever seen sun shine through a rainstorm?"
"Aye, I have. Tell me, Rheisun," she said, looking at his blue stone ku'o in his ear, "Are you voyaging today?"
"Voyaging!" The second man said--he likely was the first mate. He snorted and laughed bitterly. "And here I had a guess you knew what you were talking about, maiden! Ain't you seen the waters? I don't trust it. My cargo is too valuable to risk getting dashed among the waves, not to mention my crew!"
The first man, who Ridahne took to be the captain, shook his head slowly. "Aye, I don't think we'll be setting sail today, Torzinei. Why'd you ask?"
"Because," Ridahne said, as if this information seemed obvious. "I want to book passage on your ship."
The captain's eyes narrowed at her. "We don't take passengers, Torzinei."
"Not usually. But today, I'm asking you to. I don't need to go far, just the mouth of the bay."
That made both of them look at her with hard expressions, wondering what sort of business she had going to the mouth of the bay and back... And then Ridahne saw something click, the revelation showing on their weathered faces. But they were older men, though their dark hair did not yet show gray like Amaiera-Sol's. And they knew how to navigate troubled waters. "Who are you?"
Ridahne leaned in close, her tone gaining an edge. "Someone who should not be ignored."
The younger of the two cowered a little, but the elder stayed firm and kept studying her ojih. Finally, he said, "You're her, ain't you? The one they talk about. The Sol-Slayer?"
Ridahne allowed a small smile. "And so much more..."
"I ought to turn you over to the Sols..."
"A lot of good that would do. I've spoken to them already. Where do you think this came from?" She pointed to the nimarih on her brow.
"What do you want, Betrayer?" The captain asked, unable to argue with her and yet unwilling to cooperate just yet.
"As I said. Take me and my two companions to the mouth of the bay, and when we have conducted our business, we return here. I can offer you a small sum in exchange..." She put a few gold coins down on one of the crates between them.
The captain frowned. "My soul can't be bought. Can you say the same, Torzinei?"
Ridahne just sighed and scooped up the coins. She tossed her dark hair and said with a sigh, "Well, that's fine. You looked like you could use the business today. And it's not every day you get to aid Astra-Sol and her Guardian...but evidently you have no desire to do business with the likes of me, so perhaps I'll find someone who--"
"Wait...did you say Astra-Sol?" he spoke the words quietly, almost a whisper so no one else could hear. "You're...her...?"
"Guardian, yes." Ridahne waved a dismissive hand. "I did tell you I was not one to be ignored..." Normally Ridahne would not reveal that kind of information to just anyone, and not without Darin's permission. But they'd surely find out as soon as they went out, anyway, so Ridahne saw no harm in telling them. Sailors were a superstitious lot anyway, so it was best to prepare them for what was to come.
The captain knew no servant of the Tree could be wicked. It was hard for him to reconcile the image of the Betrayer with a servant of the Tree, much less her. But then, it did add up. Why else would the Sol's spare her, and near pardon her? "My apologies, Guardian. I seem to be...lacking in the details of your story." He eyed her ojih again, specifically the newer markings he was unfamiliar with. He decided she must be a person of great destiny if she had penned new marks in the Book. He made a mental note to find out what they meant as soon as he was able.
"Yes, you and most people. No matter." She offered up the coins again. "What say you?"
"I would be honored to serve the needs of Astra-Sol."
Ridahne smirked. "That's what I thought."
--
"Taja Torzinei!" He chuckled as his eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his ojih. "Ah, but I suppose you're right. If you are Astra-Sol, then she is taja. Though I hope you understand the significance of those three words. She is taja. She'd be the first." He seemed to be chewing that over for a moment in his head before a soft smile touched his lips and he repeated, "Taja Torzinei...yes. Yes, that fits. And soon you'll have two of those!" He ribbed her lightly with his elbow. Soon they would both be Taja Torzinei, and he would no longer be Taja Teleisun.
"Do I love her?" Ajoran laughed. "Oh boy...what a question." He smiled at her. "I could tell you yes, and it would be an honest answer, but it would not do the full answer justice. Ah, have you ever stood out in a really nasty storm? And just let the rain pelt your face and the wind whip your loose hair, and there's a crack of thunder some ways off and you realize the world is so much bigger than you? And you just feel alive, standing there in the middle of Astra's fury?" He sighed, almost dreamily. "She is my storm, Darin. And I am a small ship, helpless in its wake...Yes, I love her. I'd give her the moon, if that was possible. And I intend to spend my long life by her side. I know she'll have to go when you do, and she'll be gone again for some time, still. I've understood this since she came. But I am content. To know that she loves me enough to make me hers is enough for my heart until the day she returns to me. And if she cannot return someday for some reason? Then I shall track her down and follow wherever she goes. There was once a time when she tried to push me away to try and distance me from her sins, and would not relent no matter how much I protested--and oh, I did. But she couldn't keep me away. Not really." He smiled. "I am very proud to know that my Isfahan will be off serving Astra, and you also. It's more than I could have hoped for."
Ajoran laughed as they walked, still a little shaken from the whole experience. He'd never seen anything like it before and was still reeling. "I'd have a hard time believing it doesn't annoy her...my Isfahan is not exactly patient..." Ridahne jestingly glared at him and tried to swipe at him with one hand, but the man danced away skillfully. Both of them wanted to duel again, they just hadn't found the right time to do it yet. Darin had seen Ridahne in action, but that was always in anger, in the rage of real battle where blood was on the line. She had yet to see poetry in motion, the delicate dance between sparring partners who were well-matched and well-trained. She couldn't wait to show her.
"I've gotten used to it," Ridahne admitted with a sigh and a small smirk.
As they left the palace, a group of eija posted out front dipped their heads at the trio as they passed. Had the situation been different, the Sols would have insisted Darin be accompanied by a contingent of guards. But considering her current company was a taja, and the seed guardian, who was a highly trained member of their own order, it wasn't necessary. But security was tight around the palace anyway--tighter than usual. The road to the market was busy with people passing by in every direction holding baskets, crates of goods like ink pigments or neatly folded nets, clay pots and jars, and fish wrapped in palm leaves. The Tasen market was a common place for foreigners to come, so Darin's presence wasn't entirely unusual. Ridahne was noticed, though.
People seemed to immediately identify her as eija from a black tattoo around her left bicep. And she might have been somewhat avoided, even if only to give her a respectful amount of space, had it not been for the silver circlet around her forehead. In a culture that was accustomed to looking at people's faces, the thin metal band was instantly noticeable, and it gave many people pause. Someone wearing a nimarih must be important, indeed. And then they'd see her ojih, and a quick shift of emotions would cross their faces. Horror, confusion, bewilderment, and sometimes anger. A significant portion of people seemed to understand from these clues just who she was, though due to the nimarih, no one confronted her. She still felt their stares, though. And the sneers and glares. If they had any idea...
While Darin perused the wares, Ridahne would occasionally whisper in her ear and explain an item, or would tell her if the price was too high, but she let Darin explore. She gathered bits of news from traders, too. But mostly, she strode shoulder to shoulder with Ajoran, following behind Darin. She was just glad to be with him. Ridahne did note, with some interest, that the people they talked to did not remember Khaltira's name either, and it was generally agreed that Hanasa-Sol was doing well and had the favor of the people. For that, Ridahne was glad. For all that she had been burned by the Sol, she still believed in them and their importance, and in the good that they could do if they did their jobs well.
Darin asked about the children, and Ridahne laughed. "Did they now? Give them here, let's see..." She took the black one between her slim fingertips and held it up to the sunlight. The little chunk of polished onyx had a translucent quality under strong sunlight, though it could not quite be seen through. Ridahne handed it back. "They're just gifts. Small offerings. Many of their parents are probably stone carvers, and they will often take the little bits that cannot be otherwise used. Children trade them like tokens sometimes. Most of those children likely don't have much to offer anyone, either. I never did. So this is what they have. Stones, bones, shells, maybe carved bits of wood. Do what you like with them. If you want, they can be strung onto a necklace or bracelet. But it seems the children of Azurei like you, and I suspect they know who you are somehow. If they do, word will get around. Everyone knows street kids are a reliable source of information, and they can be easily bought. We'll just have to hope nobody too heinous finds out...I don't feel like bloodying my sword today, if I can help it."
They made their way further in, and closer to the port. As they did, the wares became less clothing and baubles and more spices, fruits, meats, and fish. The people milling around had a different look to them, too. Though they wore different clothing than humans might, usually uri, it was not hard for even a foreigner to see that these people were working class laborers. Their ojih were usually more simple, like Hadian's, and their hands were rough and strong.
"If you want to speak to Istaerih, I might suggest getting at least a dinghy to row out into the bay. I'm sure if we ask nicely" Ridahne said, rubbing two coins together, "someone will let us borrow one."
"I've gotten used to it," Ridahne admitted with a sigh and a small smirk.
As they left the palace, a group of eija posted out front dipped their heads at the trio as they passed. Had the situation been different, the Sols would have insisted Darin be accompanied by a contingent of guards. But considering her current company was a taja, and the seed guardian, who was a highly trained member of their own order, it wasn't necessary. But security was tight around the palace anyway--tighter than usual. The road to the market was busy with people passing by in every direction holding baskets, crates of goods like ink pigments or neatly folded nets, clay pots and jars, and fish wrapped in palm leaves. The Tasen market was a common place for foreigners to come, so Darin's presence wasn't entirely unusual. Ridahne was noticed, though.
People seemed to immediately identify her as eija from a black tattoo around her left bicep. And she might have been somewhat avoided, even if only to give her a respectful amount of space, had it not been for the silver circlet around her forehead. In a culture that was accustomed to looking at people's faces, the thin metal band was instantly noticeable, and it gave many people pause. Someone wearing a nimarih must be important, indeed. And then they'd see her ojih, and a quick shift of emotions would cross their faces. Horror, confusion, bewilderment, and sometimes anger. A significant portion of people seemed to understand from these clues just who she was, though due to the nimarih, no one confronted her. She still felt their stares, though. And the sneers and glares. If they had any idea...
While Darin perused the wares, Ridahne would occasionally whisper in her ear and explain an item, or would tell her if the price was too high, but she let Darin explore. She gathered bits of news from traders, too. But mostly, she strode shoulder to shoulder with Ajoran, following behind Darin. She was just glad to be with him. Ridahne did note, with some interest, that the people they talked to did not remember Khaltira's name either, and it was generally agreed that Hanasa-Sol was doing well and had the favor of the people. For that, Ridahne was glad. For all that she had been burned by the Sol, she still believed in them and their importance, and in the good that they could do if they did their jobs well.
Darin asked about the children, and Ridahne laughed. "Did they now? Give them here, let's see..." She took the black one between her slim fingertips and held it up to the sunlight. The little chunk of polished onyx had a translucent quality under strong sunlight, though it could not quite be seen through. Ridahne handed it back. "They're just gifts. Small offerings. Many of their parents are probably stone carvers, and they will often take the little bits that cannot be otherwise used. Children trade them like tokens sometimes. Most of those children likely don't have much to offer anyone, either. I never did. So this is what they have. Stones, bones, shells, maybe carved bits of wood. Do what you like with them. If you want, they can be strung onto a necklace or bracelet. But it seems the children of Azurei like you, and I suspect they know who you are somehow. If they do, word will get around. Everyone knows street kids are a reliable source of information, and they can be easily bought. We'll just have to hope nobody too heinous finds out...I don't feel like bloodying my sword today, if I can help it."
They made their way further in, and closer to the port. As they did, the wares became less clothing and baubles and more spices, fruits, meats, and fish. The people milling around had a different look to them, too. Though they wore different clothing than humans might, usually uri, it was not hard for even a foreigner to see that these people were working class laborers. Their ojih were usually more simple, like Hadian's, and their hands were rough and strong.
"If you want to speak to Istaerih, I might suggest getting at least a dinghy to row out into the bay. I'm sure if we ask nicely" Ridahne said, rubbing two coins together, "someone will let us borrow one."
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