Myriad: The Road to Sanctuary

Even if he was a bit brash in his approach to things, perhaps as well a little rough around the edges in terms his personality and demeanour, Kestral had to admit that Tyrian had to have had some strong sense of survival instincts to get as far as he had in the cut-throat world of merchant business. For this reason, it worried her how his tone had suddenly become serious when he warned her of what it would be like when they got to Solus. He suddenly shot up when the Dwemer went rushing on, the girl waiting a moment to contemplate whether she should follow.

Considering that I was just dragging him along after the visit to the medical bay, it may be best that someone follow to make sure Tyrian doesn't fall over himself. It might also be necessary for me to follow so that I ensure no argument ensues with the seemingly sensitive mood that Dwemer seems to be in.
 
Tyrian was in the cargo hold in seconds, rushing to a crate with a similar mark to the one of his forehead emblazoned upon it. "You better not have knocked over anything..." He grumbled as he felt around the crate, acting as if he were a medical professional checking a body for any signs of heat or life. "I do not sell broken or dirty merchandise" He might have been overreacting, but if he even got one piece of merchandise sullied, it'd be like a breach upon his pride, as well as something to tell Otto that he was a screw-up. He worked hard to be a business man, he was better than this. "Plus, I've already got a customer pegged for some of this stuff..."
 
"Tyrian Trist, at your service-" He kneeled before the crate, looking it over with care as he spoke idly, speaking something he's probably said a million times by now to every tom, dick, and Stanly he'd come across. You always have to make a good opening pitch to seat yourself in a customer's mind, either as a good thing or just a strange person that will hang in their memories. "-seller of dreams, consumer of wishes and delivery of your heart's desire. Whether a technical marvel, a legend turned reality or just a decent utility tool; I work wonders in efficiency, delivery and charming service" He stopped for a moment, looking behind him to check if his new female acquaintance had come with him or not.
 
"I'll keep that in mind. My name is Glacir Ternox," Glacir said with a bow. "I am a blacksmith. I've been forging weapons and armor for a few years now."
 
She fumbled along the corridor, trying to find exactly where the two males had gone. Kestral listened closely, closing her eyes for a second and trying to focus in on where their voices were coming from, of she could even hear them at all. Tyrian's voice was easy to locate after the bit of time she had spent with him, the girl opening her eye once more and finding her way through the twisting corridors. When she finally entered into the cargo hold, she was glad to see that the two had not had any sort of disagreement of sorts and that the Dwemer had once again found what he was looking for.

"Everything good? None of your goods have been misplaced or stolen away by invisible fairies?" Kez said with a slightly smug expression, having heard the merchant's sale pitch like a practiced song he had sang out to the other man in the room. He was gifted with words, that much was easy to admit. She turned to the Dwemer, who introduced himself. "Nice to meet you Glacir, my name is Kestral. I'm guessing you found what you were looking for?" Kez had never seen anyone who looked like Glacir, her eyes carefully scanning over every one of his unique features. She paid extra attention to the symbol on his blade, guessing that it must represent some sort of affiliation he had.
 
Glacir held up his blade to Kestral. "I did, yes. I made this myself. It is the first weapon I forged without the help of my family, and I carry it as a memento."
 
"Not today..." Tyrian muttered in response to the female as she made her entrance. He gave her a small nod of acknowledgment before glancing to the Dwemer "Good, good, good; that gives even more reason for me to worry about putting those soot covered paws on my stuff" Rather comically, the man seemed to protectively linger around the crate before moving to push the lid up and over. Letting the contents inside be seen, as well as a lot of protective wrapping. In the corner of the crate there was a smaller case, obviously Tyrian's personal belongings.
 
The cold was back in this wide open room, a porthole on the far side of the cargo hold banging rhythmically as the ship rocked from side to side and the rain strengthened in it's hammering against the wooden sides. The girl hugged herself to try and stay warm, stepping over Tyrian's tail where he was bent over examining his possessions. She shivered vaguely, although she appreciated the slightly more open space which allowed her to loosen her wings and let them hang more slack on either side of her. The breeze from the porthole ruffled her feathers as she began looking through crates in search of her satchel.

Her eyes widened as she spotted it, the female bending down in her long, dark-green dress and gently tugged on the drawstrings keeping it closed. She pulled out a thin but long-sleeved woolen jersey, pulling it over her head hastily and tugging her hair out from where it got trapped under the fabric. All the while, the girl listened carefully to the conversation going on behind her, standing with a dagger in her hand. It was the twin to the one hidden in her boot, the short but sharp metal gleaming in the faint grey light streaming through the open porthole. She also held a leather strap, the female tying it so it hung low on her hips after placing the dagger between her teeth so she could use both hands.

Although the woolen cover wasn't as thick as she would like, it was definitely of some comfort to the bird-like female. It might have been just her imagination, but she thought she could smell the scent of summer citrus hanging onto the fabric, the same fruit that used to grow outside her window back home....at least, what used to be home. After making sure the strap around her hip was satisfactory, she proceeded to sheath the daggers one by one into their respective covers on the leather. "You two going to keep bantering, or are you wanting to scrounge around for something to eat? I'm practically starving."
 
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Looking everything over, the content of the crate seemed to be intact and clean, other than dust from the wood itself forming a layer over the protective packaging. Now that I'm here... He looked down to his sweat-soaked and old shirt, reaching into his own satchel, he pulled out a small bag, procuring a new and cleaner shirt. With no thought to common decency, he pulled the dirty shirt over his head and stuffed it in the bag, holding the new shirt in his free hand. He stopped himself from putting it on, giving it a few seconds as the cold waltzed in and caressed his back, he didn't realize just how much of an impression the rot had left on his skin, but the cold was a welcome feeling of relaxation. "On second thought, I'm gonna put that 'Find the nearest Tavern' back a few notches, when I get to Solus, I'm finding the bathhouse and jumping in"

With a sigh of relief and a quick stretch of his back, he moved to pull the clean shirt over his head, covering himself once more. "I would change my trousers, but I'm not here to put on a show" He joked, dropping the bag back in the satchel and moving to the merchandise. Pushing a few products to the side, Tyrian grabbed a package at the bottom of the box, smiling to see it was in good condition as he held it up to the light. "Hey, I found it!" He jumped ot his feet and moved over to Kaz, presenting to her a large and certainly warm-looking coat. "And do I have a sales pitch for you, little lady"
 
Kez fidgeted with her jersey, pulling down the sleeves so that they covered half her hands before stretching her arms back to adjust how the item of clothing fit over her wings. The slits made there were an exact match to the area where her wings protruded from her back, the fabric and design of the warm covering made to suit her bird-like aspects. The girl caught a glimpse of movement in her peripheral vision, looking off to see that Tyrian was removing his shirt. She hastily spun on the heels of her booted feet so that her back was too him, a rosy colour climbing back onto her face for the second time that day. Clearly he doesn't care for any privacy. None the less, I will not be the one awkardly caught watching him. She sucked on her lower lip, the colour on her cheeks deepening as he mentioned his trousers.

She didn't turn around, unsure of whether or not he was decent. Instead, she simply said loudly enough for him to hear "I won't be waiting that long. I'll go swimming in the sea or go dance in the rain rather than wait that long for a bath. I sugges you do the same, you never know how long it might be until we actually reach Solus or how many delays we might come across." He was suddenly behind her, the girl listening as he scampered over to where she was still having her back facing him. "I've already told you, you're not going to convince me to spend a single penny."
 
"Don't doubt my tongue, my feathered beauty. It has many uses!" He took the coat out of its packaging, spreading it out as he began his pitch. "Let me set this scene. People see you, they already have labels." He moves in front of her for a second gesturing to her general appearance, energy driving every gesture as he pressed the back of his hand against his forehead and feigns boredom. "You walk down the street, eyes glance to you, but only for a second, a measly second, and even then they're looking over you. They see the wings, you're just a bird to them. Or a girl. Or person. Or just another faceless insect on the ground. You're not important and they don't care about making you feel important." His hand taps lightly against the side of the box, moving down with each tap. "Your life is always on a low altitude, you need some higher ground, ground a mountain that tickles the clouds can't give you."

Fingers come up, simulating wind as he stands on his toes to wiggle his fingers. "Because you're just part of the group, apart of the herd, just another random sheep." A gesture to himself with his average and bland design, at least, that's what he made it out to be before he held up one finger. "You're scenery and scenery gets pruned to be replaced with something better." He mockingly cuts the finger with a scissor gesture, letting out a distressed face as he pretends to mourn the bended finger. "You need to spread your wings and take a trip skyward, but the wind just ain't in you." He disappears behind her, coming up to her back, raising the coat. "But then this comes over you and you are taken, you are hugged by the warmth as this new life comes over your shoulder. Doesn't matter what came before, because you are coming up, you have gotten yourself some new wings." In his efforts to simulate a hug from behind, he used this opportunity to drape the coat over her, the big coat giving a nice amount of space for her wings when curled together. With the coat over her, his hands moved down under her arms, slowly moving the arms up.

"Oh yes, those feathers hold up the glow of the fabric and lift you, lift you HIGH. You're growing, you're moving, you're shining. The sun comes out just keep the people stunned, while moon only shines to give you a spotlight." He moves away, now jumping onto the box in front of her, squatting to dramatically gesture, symbolising the 'scene' by miming a flat trail of land. "This is the scene. You walk down the street, eyes look to you, wide and curious, overpowered by just a simple walk." He gets into character "One man gasps 'Who is that girl!?'-" Tyrian slaps himself in shock and horror. "-only to be slapped across the face by his neighbor. For that is no simple girl, you'd be a fool to think so, don't you see it? Those wings! Ah, yes, those wings. They catch one glare of those fancy feathers, only to find the light is overpowering." He leans forward, reaching for the front of the coat and slowly drawing it around her, letting her feel how warm and soft the material was. "When they see feathers, they don't see a bird, they don't a critter, they don't see someone they can look down upon."

Form his position, he looked up and spoke softly, his grin dripping with mirth as he laid on his punchline. His final pleasant imagery. "They see those wings and they drop to their knees in awe of an angel"
 
The girl rolled her eyes as he began, , crossing her arms over her chest. She knew this was going to be one hell of a show, one that she was absolutely determined not to be enthralled by with his song and dance. He might have the gift of the gab, but she also knew when something was too good to be true. Sure, it was a coat. Of course, it was of good quality and design. Did it cover it's prime function of keeping her warm? It most likely did. However, it was simple enough for her to keep at the forefront of her mind that she was really unable to afford it. Every bit of coin would be needed by her to start over in Solus....even the merchant himself had admitted to that.

She remained fixed where she was as he continued on, trying to drag her in by picking at her need to fit in. It had the opposite effect of what he was hoping for, riling her up instead despite the fact that her face remained perfectly fixed and lacking emotion. She had been isolated all her life, cast aside into a place of solitude because people like her never really did fit in. It was something she had grown up with and long since accepted. He continued on though, the female raising a scrutinizing brow as he draped the item of clothing over her shoulders. Kestral knew he was hoping to make a quick buck off her and she would be damned if she gave him the satisfaction of doing just that.

When he was done, she looked at him with a blank expression. It was a slow motion as she unfolded her arms, taking her time as if she was really considering buying the product. She shrugged the coat off, holding it out in front of her and tilting it this way and that to really drag out her false consideration. Eventually she sighed, speaking confidently "You know, I just don't think it's the right colour for me." Her mouth twisted upward on one side, giving her the appearance of a lopsided smile that could easily be considered a smirk. She leaned forward, draping the coat over one of Tyrian's shoulders in a graceful, almost seductive manner. "Thanks for that spectacular performance though." With that she spun back around and walked off, stopping only to glance at him over her shoulder as she reached the entrance to the cargo hold. "Now, are you coming to find some food or not?"
 
He watched her face throughout the performance, noting the lack of emotional response, giving him the constant question of what was on her mind. Was she resisting, or was she not tempted at all? Admittedly, he was arrogant in his abilities, but then again, you needed to keep your ego and confidence high to keep it convincing. If they didn't feel the energy, they weren't gonna be interested in his words. The time she held the coat with that blank expression, testing it out, pulling it around, humming o herself, it was like the tension of the tension in the last few seconds of a sports game. Then she said those soul-shattering words and Tyrian was left to bottle up his failure as she approached. He had a witty comment to make at her smile, it reminded him of some of the shrewdest businessmen; maybe she wasn't as nieve as he thought?

When she moved the coat over his shoulder, leaning dangerously close, he was caught off-guard, he found a feeling of intrigue leaking off of her as he stared. His confusion soon grew into an invested gaze, hew as beginning to feel like she was now selling him something and she had a chance of succeeding. Then she pulled away, turn round and sashayed her way to the door. Tyrian couldn't help but smile as he followed. "Oh, I like her!" He said, maybe a bit too loud. "She must be a Siren"
 
The girl chuckled under her breath, his clear perplexity at how she had managed to evade his charm somewhat amusing to her. She waited for only a few moments at the doorway, still walking away without fully waiting for him to catch up. In some way, she felt rather impressed with herself for having managed to turn the tables on him...even if it had been for but a moment. Kestral winced as she needed to tightly shut her wings back into place, the joints already aching from how she had slept on them skew a few hours earlier. The ship may hold many passengers and be large in comparison to many others, but she still didn't like the close confinement and narrow passageways.

Tyrian was audibly running back up to her, the female slowing her steps so that he could reach her. "Where do you think the best food would be held? I was thinking of trying the kitchen, but I get the feeling that whoever is working there won't be too keen on us pinching some food. I also need to get out of these passageways, I feel like they keep getting smaller and smaller to point where they might swallow me up any second." She rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve some of the stiffness there at restricting her wings. As soon as the storm cleared up, she would be flying as soon as possible. Kez looked over her shoulder for the Dwemer, wandering if he was going to be joining them in their quest for food.
 
Glacir followed behind the two. They were certainly interesting people. "A bit claustrophobic, are we?" He said to Kestral. "Besides, I'm sure whoever's in the kitchen would direct us to an appropriate location to their food...I hope. I am a bit starved."
 
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