Myriad: The Road to Sanctuary

The woman began skittering around, clearly knowing where everything was in the chaotic mess that surrounded them. Strange items and plants hung from the ceiling, jars were placed haphazardly around the room and books were either open or balancing ontop of one another by some feat against gravity. Kestral moaned at the old woman's insistence that she had something else which would help, the girl chewing on her bottom lip as she sometimes did when she was getting irritated. "I am beginning to think I might regret the decision to come." she whispered under her breath to Tyrian, eyes widening as the elderly lady came within a few inches of knocking over one of the piles of books during her scurrying. While she waited for the medicine woman to fetch what she thought was necessary, she answered the male on what he had said as they entered.

He spoke of her home lightly, but him just saying the word out loud made her previously lightening mood darken once more. "I...was from there, yes." She used the past tense, emphasizing it subconsciously and without intending too. The loss of her sanctuary had cut deeply, a wound that she felt freshly opened every time she had to remember it's destruction. He then mentioned her feathers, the context of his comment making her a little more uneasy than she wished. He wings tightened against her back, a throb from the silvery hued scars running down her forearms reminding her of how she had almost lost them. "Thanks, I guess. The fact that I still have them is not something I take for granted." Her words were not sharp or darkly toned, rather said in an absent-minded manner. There was still a streak of seriousness though underlying her response, a seriousness that spoke of how she would do whatever it took to keep her wings that way.

The old lady was ducking under drying and dying plants now, rummaging through a heap of what Kez could only describe as miscellaneous junk. Kestral relaxed a little more in the suddenly stiff posture she had taken, reminding herself that Tyrian most likely had nothing to do with the killing and capturing of the Bird folk she had grown up with. "Yes, I'm used to placed that are a little more toasty. As for the returning of your items, I find no use in holding on to them when I'm sure there's some needy customer ready to take it off your hands for a price as soon as we get to Solus. Besides, I'm sure you'll get to ask more if you tell some gullible fool that they might be able to levitate after the fabric touched the skin of a bird critter." She said the last word with extreme distaste, the two syllables parting from her lips as if they were streaks of angry lightening. Her despising of the word was quite clear from the way she formed it as if it tasted vile in her mouth.
 
"Ah. Tragic backstory, I get it" He said it almost dismissively, but if she didn't wish to talk about fresh wounds, he was in no way interested in going on a trip down the nightmares of memory lane. It served no purpose other then someone getting teary-eyed and angsty. "I won't touch that with a ten-foot pole. I'm an asshole, not a psychiatrist" He wanted to make it clear that he knew delving into such a topic would just bring up bad memories, so he tried to segway into something that could amuse her. "I heard those myths. Don't remember the guy who spread it, but we abused shit like that back in Oxis. 'Yes, sir. Soak in this sacred mud for five days and you will have eternal youth', 'Rub this lamp and your wish will come true... When the time is right!' and I still can't believe someone bought the joke one I made up on the spot. Dumb bastard thought gallivanting through the streets and pissing on the competition gave him superpowers"

He leaned closer to her, indicating to her feather. "I knew one guy who was obsessed with birds. Never got to any of your kind, so he tried to make fake feathers. Weren't as nice as yours. Covered in glue, ripped in a few places and most were bent. He went to the tallest building in the city to show off his superiority, how he could easily craft something to do better than the beasties he obsessed over. He jumped, he spread his wings and-" Tyrian slapped his hands together. "SPLAT... His antics caused a cart of tomatoes to hit the ground at high force, making a red puddle on the ground. The guy himself ended up hanging from a window ledge, caught by the hem of his underwear, for a few days while each feather fell off. I'm sure there's a moral to the story, but I just wanted to make you react"
 
"...well...that was...something," Glacir said. He wasn't completely disturbed by the story Tyrian just told, but he didn't know what to make of it, either.
 
He did not dwell on what she had lost, his habit of taking a serious topic and twisting it into something light-hearted and even humorous bringing a faint smile to her face. It was somewhat relieving for her to know that he would not be trying to pry open her thoughts and get any details on exactly it was that had happened. Kestral preferred to keep up her walls about that, not yet ready to spill her memories and the feelings that were so closely attached to them. "I've never liked psychiatrists. Sometimes bottling up feelings and burying them is the best way to keep the pain of them from overwhelming you. " She chuckled under her breath as she heard of what lies he had spun and the products he had sugar-coated with fairytales until they were all but irresistible.

"It would appear that you have the gift of the gab, a genuine silver-tongue. I'll be sure to think twice before trying to buy anything from you which claims to have magical properties. I mean, not all your stories can be false considering you have this heat-providing crystal of sorts, but I'm still not totally convinced you won't try and suck me dry of the little coins I possess." Her voice held a tone of teasing, the female easing letting her previous thoughts of Aerie slink away back to the dark and dreary recesses of her mind. His story of the man obsessed with bird-folk stirred an uneasiness in her once more, but the somewhat fitting end to his journey made her face break out in a smug grin. She raised a brow before answering, placing her hands on her hips.

"I would have let him swing there for a day and night...just to teach him a lesson. Bird-folk feathers will do nothing, eating bits of us is about as useful as stuffing your stomach with sand." The elderly woman returned, skeletal hands clutching some strange items which look like it had crawled behind one of he cupboards and died there. The sight made Kez's empty stomach tighten, the female thankful that it was empty or else she may have re-seen her last meal. "That is not going anywhere near me....I'll suffer through the headache until it's gone." She said abruptly, stepping away from the hag.
 
"It certainly was" Tyrian chuckled at Glacir, eyes switching to look to where the old woman had hoveled off too. "I prefer screaming into a pillow" He shrugged, bottling hurts your chest and blabbing is bad for your reputation, better to just vomit it out in a dark corner and let the cleaners deal with it later. The man moved about the room, looking over the various jars with ambigously colored liquid within, even aping one to see if the thing inside moved. "I like to think I'm blessed with many gifts. Looks, charm, knitting; a decent tongue is just in the range" It was funny to look back to his childhood, being that kid who constantly sought attention from others and forced himself to spin lies to make himself look better. How his parents were very important businessmen, or did he say they were secretly royalty? Just better, he knew that. "Some times I speak so well I convince myself..." Some things you just want to be true.

"Bah, magical properties are just another line of the conveyer belt, another trope in the book. Tthe trick is finding the fitting trope. You see, you don't really need to make a case or produce evidence for the claim, you just have to play a game of word association. Relate your product to the customer's weakness. You spot a momma's boy, you make your product seem reminiscent of their mother's perfume. Cat person? Well, this was certainly made without any cat fur. Tragedy? Just introduce some hope. No one really believe you, deep down they always know you're bullshitting; but sometimes people just want to believe" He puts the ar down as he finishes his spiel, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes as he looked around the room. "It doesn't matter what I say, you know I'm after your coins. But, I think my tongue can get your wallet out. Give me a day and I could con you out of your clothes and into completely gawdy and baggy rag"


When the nurse returned, Tyrian at first felt very afraid, but at Kkez's reluctance, he took amusement. "Oh no, you don't. You were the one who wanted to come here, remember? Go on, take your medicine!"
 
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He seemed rather easy to talk to, words slipping from his lips as if they were water from a fountain. The male seemed to be fine with conversing, the open and responsive way in which he communicated with her refreshing in her eyes. Most people saw her wings and either fell silent or looked her up and down like her flesh was made of gold. He didn't seem to care much for the myths and falsities surrounding bird-folk though and that was something she was extremely grateful for.

However, the issue at the forefront of her mind was the horrendous item that Tyrian had the gall to call medicine. "My previous statement still stands. I'm not consuming something which looks like it rotted several years ago." She made a hasty retreat, shoving right past the other Beastial creature and getting back to the corridor outside. "Thank you for your help, but I'm feeling much better all of a sudden....perhaps it would be of better use to Tyrian?" Kestral said with a grin to the old woman, trying to squelch her grimace before retreating away from the medical bay.

She waited for Tyrian to join her again outside the medical bay, her face still a little pale from the thought of needing to consume the item the woman had offered to her. Next stop was the cargo hold where she hoped to collect some of the items she had brought aboard as well as rummage around for a spare coat to wear. "So, You know I'm from Tarkus. So which region do you belong to? Is there any particular reason you've become so invested in relieving people of their hard earned money?"
 
"Oh, don't be such a big girl's blouse" The Old Woman waved Kez up, advancing upon her with the substance in hand, but when Ke went straight out of 'her domain', the nurse simply shook her head and turned to Tyrian. "You're not escaping." And before Tyrian could offer objections, before he could mention how he never even said what was ailing him or even gulp in fear, he was on the table and the old nurse was shooing Glacir out of the room. The door managed to close on the scene just as Tyrian found a substance (That could have been the remains of the last person this woman 'treated' for all he knew) shoved down his throat.

With the door shut, there wasn't much to see, just sounds to hear. All muffled, some pained, others frightened and some that implied many things were hitting the floor. At some points, it almost looked like the door was shaking and accompanied by light smoke. Soon, when things looked their bleakest and silence prevailed, the sound of the waves pounding against the ship were overrun by the door bursting open. In the doorway, Torian was revealed, still as disheveled and sweaty as before, but now with a repeatedly twitching eye. He only got a few paces forward before he fell, gripping Kez for support. "You left me behind... You owe me... You heartless... Traitor..."

Behind him, the Old Nurse gave a kind wave and shut the door.
 
Kestral was all to pleased to have escaped the clutched of the old woman, bending down and leaning her arms against her knees. When Tyrian did not follow her shortly, she couldn't help but be somewhat worried at first, the door suddenly slamming shut. "What in blue hell is going on?" She said out loud, wondering back over to the medical bay entrance, trying the door handle only to find it was locked. The bird-woman tried to listen in, only to jump back in fright when something suddenly slammed against the door and made it rattle and shake. She gulped quietly, feeling a little guilty for having left the other Beastial behind to fend for himself.

He soon emerged though, the girl surprised at the relief she felt to have him exit the mysterious den of the old hag. When he turned to her, seemingly no worse than how he entered, she could hardly contain her laughter at the twitch of his eye and his sudden flimsy footwork. The girl held him up, supporting him as necessary so that he wouldn't kiss the damp floor beneath them. "I'm sorry, I really am...but perhaps in some way, this is some form of revenge for all those you've tricked in your lifetime." She couldn't help but let her laughter out good and properly when she said that, ducking down and draping his one arm over her shoulders.

"I think some food and perhaps a drink would be good to wash down whatever horrid taste must be coating your mouth." She grinned at him, hoisting him up and helping him walk towards the cargo hold. Although her appearance did not hint at it, she was surprisingly strong and only began panting with his added weight after the first few meters down the hallway.
 
He acted like a man on his deathbed as he desperately gripped for support, grabbing whatever he could with a slight growl as he finally found his footing again. "Comming down with a cold that one time in the middle of SUMMER was revenge, the vandalisation of our stall in the square after we drew rude images on our competitors's was revenge, being forced to pack up and move our business to the other side of the world in a land nobody knows about is revenge. This!? This is eeeeeeevil!" It took a while to steady himself, but he managed to fight against the feeling of his stomach turning inside out to keep his arm around her and walk. "Back in Oxis, Otto probably would have loved using that old hag to save money... Could probably bill her as some mad alchemist devil"

"As long as the food doesn't move... I know I'm a squirrel, but I'm in no mood for chasing up trees right now" On the bright side, he could o longer even think about his arm irritation now with his body turning to jelly. "Funny, I meet you after almost dying to the Rot, get lead o that torture chamber under your concern for my arm and now once more you're leading me to food on this shit hole. I'm starting to think I'm in the arms of a siren. Except, without the singing to pull me to my death"
 
She was struggling now not laugh even harder, biting her lower lip with the effort of it as she continued to drag him along. Carrying his extra weight was less easy than she thought it would be, the swaying of the ship making it so that more than once she came close to tripping up and falling along with him. Even the paraffin lamps lit along the walls weren't offering much assistance, the candles dim and somewhat useless in helping her avoid any uneven planks which threatened to send her tumbling. His commentary was amusing her, the female's hands too full for her to move the stray curl that had fallen in front of her eyes.

Kestral blew out the corner of her mouth, trying to move the curl away. She only vaguely succeeded, frowning at the hair's insistence to hinder her vision. "Don't be so melodramatic. Also...some of those seem like Lady Luck really does have your name on her black list. Who gets a cold in summer?" She stopped for a moment, heaving him to the side so that he was propped against the corridor wall. She panted, trying to catch her breath.

The water could be heard sloshing against the outside, the faint patter of a light rain drumming against the deck overhead. The weather was dreary, making the Beastial woman with bird aspect long for a warm breeze and some high-altitude flying.

"Otto? Sounds like he was some kind of mentor to you. I'm guessing he liked to inhabit that splodge of grey area between what could be considered right and what was definitely wrong to do. That's the same approach you have towards most things in any case." The female was flushed from the effort of hauling him around, actually sitting down by leaning back and sliding against the same wall he was leaned against until she was placed cross-legged on the floor. She pulled her dress down around her ankles, trying to ward off the cold a little bit longer. "I do not consume anything that can move around on my plate. It most certainly is dead first...even then, I'll take any fruit on board although it's completely unlikely that there will be any."

He called her a siren, the description making her scoff while she fiddled with the lace of her boot. "If I was a siren, I would have torn out your jugular long ago. I also don't have cannibalistic tendencies and don't think my singing is bad enough to lull you into a watery grave."
 
"She's just mad I beat her at chess is all" He commented idly, leaning against her and admiring the odd feeling. It wasn't his first time being dragged about on someone's arm, he usually needed a bit of help after getting drunk, but usually, that was with people with hair on their arms or only reached his waist. "Otto, mentor?" He had to stop for a moment to burst out laughing. "That old bastard wishes he could call himself a mentor! Failure was my mentor, Otto was just the drunk in the corner who paid me and laughed. There's no grey area with him, just the side without money and the side with money and a golden toilet seat. I'm a 'valued employee' of his trading company" To emphasize, Tyrian point to the mark on his forehead. "See? Even got my personal badge"

When she put him against a wall, he followed her in slumping down, shoulder-to-shoulder with his tailing lying behind both of them, tucked against the wall. "Just make sure it isn't poisoned" He let his legs spread out freely, only now realizing how cramped his sleep must have been with everyone else. "With Sirens, it's partly their singing voice. The other part is their beauty, usually taking the form of the traits the victim finds the most alluring in their mind; they're kind of like sea versions of succubi. Complete with the teeth" An eyebrow risen, a smirk curled. "You hiding any sharp nashers there?"
 
"She must have rued you from that day forth. I imagine she's the type to flip over the table and send chess pieces flying when she loses." The girl tried to imagine this mysterious entity who had spared their lives as a living, breathing person. She chuckled to herself as she imagined the woman looking something like a female leprechaun, with green eyes and an floor-length hair the same orange as a summer sunset. Her wings shifted, spreading out slightly so she was leaning directly against them and crushing the feathers between her back and the wood behind her. His description of his employer made her brows raise, eyes looking to the mark he had indicated almost proudly to on his forehead. "Perhaps this is a dumb or inappropriate question, but what happens if you no longer wish to be part of this...ah....trading company? That mark seems pretty permanent. As an added thought, the title of 'trading company' seems rather ill-fitting for what is more like an elaborate money-making scheme."

Kestral dragged in a breath, letting the warm sigh slowly escape through her cold, red-tipped nostrils. "I have no intention of poisoning you. I think you've been through enough today...if I have any common courtesy, it means I'll at least wait until tomorrow to place something noxious in your food. I'm polite like that." The girl wiggled her toes in her boots, trying to warm them up. His next comment on the sirens confused her slightly...was he trying to compliment her? She turned to look at him, her emerald hues searching his face for any sort of clue as to what he was meaning. Considering the way they had interacted since meeting, she cast aside her suspicion of the nice thing he might have said. She stretched her mouth open wide at his rhetorical question, saying in a garbled voice because of her open mouth. "No g'nashers....jus' som pearly whites 'nd two sets of canines. No' enough to kill you whith."
 
"Flipped the table, did a little dance and shot the other player... With a cold" As he finished he let out a small yawn, reaching up to caress the side of his face and blinking away the morning/night groan. "Maybe she's just jealous of my own luck that she has to dampen it" He pulled a small toothpick out of his breast pocket, and place it between his lips, not using it for picking his teeth or anything; just playing with the thing using his mouth. A habit he had built up after going so long without a cigarette. "So, you're going to Solus all alone?"

At her question, he simply shrugged. "It's a Goblin Symbol, don't really understand how it works, some sort of crystal work, but when you leave your company, which if not for retirement is considered rather rude, it changes" Only to scoff at her finisher. "Money-making scheme? And what exactly is every trading company? We build and trade our wares with some extra business on the side and a few enemies to take care of on the way." Perhaps it was cynical of him, but there was no such thing as an honest merchant, just one whose good at hiding their motives. "And I thank you for that. Most murderers would lack the gall to employ such grace and tact when killing such an 'innocent' young man"

When her green eyes turned to him to give him a quick once-over, Tyrian just smiled. He didn't know what she had found suspicious about his words specifically, but it did well to not look suspicious when someone is look at you like that. She struck him as a person who didn't have much experience with much of the world, so he had t be careful not to confuse her with anything. "That's what they all say, but at least I can say you keep them clean" He blinked away when her warm breath washed over his, reminding him of the cold.
 
She shrugged her shoulders, continuing with her fidgeting by taking some of the skirt fabric of her dress and scrunching it into her fist. Kez did this repeatedly, watching the different patterns of wrinkles it made each time she did it. His own small yawn was contagious, making Kestral's build and then spill out suddenly before shes spoke. "Most trading company's are upfront and honest about their products. Transparent about everything it can and cannot do. They don't spin silvery webs of lives to eek every last drop of cash out of whatever unlucky sod has fallen into their trap. As for the goblin symbol, at least it's not there until the end of your days. Kinda hard to imagine an ancient version of the Tyrian before me with this mark still on his forehead...except with all the aging it would be all droopy and barely distinguishable for what it once was."

The girl soon lost interest in her dress, her eyes instead becoming transfixed on the toothpick which was rhythmically bring tossed between his lips as he spoke. Her eyes followed it's movement for a moment before she lifted her gaze to his eyes instead. "Yes, I am going to Solus alone. Not much else left for where we came from." Her words were short and sharp, the pain there only barely tangible. The Beastial cleared her throat though, moving on swiftly to something else. "Thanks. I pride myself on maintaining clean chompers. All the better to pick the meat off the bones of my enemies with. They're the envy of all the other sirens I'll have you know..." she dropped her voice low, covering half her mouth with her hand as if she was telling a secret. "Just don't tell anyone else though, it will ruin the surprise when I ambush them in their sleep."

She was curious to find out more about him, bringing up her knees and tucking them against her chest. The girl then wrapped her arms around them, locking her hands together at the front by grasping her wrists. "So...why are you going to Solus?" Kestral was ready again to move him towards the cargo bay (if he even still needed the assistance) but found that she was enjoying this conversation and moment of reprieve from the cold. While the cool air still sent goosebumps rising on her arms ever so often, the cold down here was not as bad as it had been up on the higher decks.
 
As the two were talking, Glacir almost barreled past them. His face showed signs of anger and irritation.
"Pardon me," he said gruffly, making his way towards the cargo hold.
 
"I take it you haven't met many then" He chuckled, his eyes falling to the floor, a weary edge to his voice. He'd seen the brunt of the industry, a few good-hearted fools did not make much of a difference in his eyes. "Hey, if you're gonna imagine an older me, know that time is gonna treat me well. If I'm handsome now, my looks will make people barely able to stand in a few years" His eyebrows wiggled at the notion, a laugh following as his fingers tapped against his knee and the toothpick flicked within the confine of his lips; forming a quiet rhythm.

At her affirmation in the isolation of her situation, Tyrian faced her with a raised brow. "Do you have a plan once you get there? No offense, but you don't seem to me like someone who's moved to other lands often, not a camper" An audible click of the tongue, balancing the toothpick. "I already told you, business. Balrog ain't exactly being lenient with the Oxis merchants, so most of us are heading to set up shop in the new world, get our claws in the industry while they're still building" When Glacir came hurrying past them, Tyrian just managed to pull in his feet before the angered Dwemer stomped on him. "Hey,w hat's your problem, buddy?"
 
He asked her about her plan. The question made her pause for a moment, the female realizing she was quite unprepared to answer the question because she wasn't exactly sure herself. When she boarded the ship, it's because she had wanted to get away from it all, start somewhere new where there were less bounty hunters and less reminders of what she had lost. Her reasons behind why she had wanted to go were clear to her, but it suddenly dawned on her that she had very little ideas on what would happen when she actually got there. For this reason she hesitated before answering, only really thinking about it for the first time now. "Well....I guess I'll just start new somewhere, like most people. Get by day to day. You were right to assume I don't get out into the rest of the world much. I had my hands full as a scout and soldier back in Aerie so there wasn't much need to leave."

Kestral's gaze flicked to the toothpick and back again, wetting her lips before speaking again. "With the way you almost bamboozled me into buying something I haven't even seen yet, I'm sure you'll get a fair slice of whatever business is getting started there. In fact, maybe-" The Dwemer suddenly pushed past them, his boot catching on one of her smaller, unimportant feathers as he moved past in such a hurry. "Shit! Dude, can you not watch your step? The ship is only so big, there's no need to rush around anywhere." The Dwemer seemed to be in a huff about something, the female raising a brow before looking at Tyrian with a curious expression on her face.
 
"You're in a new land filled with refugees desperatly struggling to find their new place in the world. Just 'I'll get by' isn't gonna be enough" The toothpick fell onto his fingertip balanced in front of the woman's face before falling onto his thumb. "You're gonna be in a race where everyone wants to clip your wings" Solus wouldn't be kind to the unprepared, the people heading there were more desperate than ever and that's not even considering that you're dealing a strange new land. "I'm just saying, I think you need to start get-" Fast forward to the encounter with the Dwmer, prompting Tyrian to jump to his feet panic on his eyes as he took off after the angered man. "You better not break anything in there!" Some angry jackasss stomping about near HIS good just spelled trouble for the squirrel boy.
 
Glacir barged into the cargo hold, quickly looking around. He then saw a sheathed sword propped against some boxes. He made his way to it, carefully navigating the cargo hold so he didn't accidentally break anything. Reaching the sword, he saw that the sheath had his family's brand on it: a snowflake pierced by a sword, chisle and hammer. Unsheathing the blade, he saw the mark near the blade's base. After identifying that this sword truly was his, Glacir strapped the sheath to his back.
"Well, they didn't ruin it, at least. This metal is hard to come by. Especially on a boat."
 
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