[ Search ] Another Day, Another Diask

[winged]

Diana had risen, as she always did, with the sun that chilly autumn morning. And now, as she sat here gazing peaceably out the storefront of the increasingly populated bar, she watched as the brilliant orb of light sank behind the tiled roofs of Sayaie. She'd come bearing the fruits of the past week's labor, new metal bands to shape the wooden kegs that the bartender and his spouse used to hold their liquors and other alcohol. Now all she waited on was her due payment, which was a predictably slow process. The barkeep was well into his seasoned sixties, and it was taking nearly all of his focus and attention to keep up with the diverse swath of workers and vagrants alike swarming for a hot drink or just a strong drink to wash away the dust and unhappiness of their daily lives.

Diana didn't understand the purpose of wittling away one's life staring into an ever-empty mug of ale (the stuff tasted like piss, for one thing), but she wouldn't judge. Mama had taught her better than that, even as she wrinkled her freckled brow at a particularly noisome group of men settled just a few tables away. She'd chosen the most secluded seat in the joint, and still she could hear them prattling away. Stupid, selfish men. Mama had also taught her that you couldn't rely on a man, and if that weren't the truth of it! Most of the bar's clientele consisted of lazy layabouts who partied harder than they worked, and it satisfied Diana's suspicions quite well. The city was full of slackers and no-good sorts - damn, how she missed home...

A little whisp of a sigh escaped the brawny woman, before she forcibly turned a contemptuous eye from a completely smashed individual who was attempting to pick a fight with his companion, back to the conversely emptying streets. It was starting to get stuffy in here, and quite smelly too. There was the occasional waft of crisp evening air that trickled in on the muddied heels of more patrons, and every whiff brought Diana closer to fidgeting (which she tried very hard not to do, it was rude).

Silently she began wondering when that old man was going to pay her that money, the sun had nearly sunk beyond sight now, and Mama and Oliver would be waiting at home for her... But she couldn't let down her Boss, either! They needed that money to afford the coal, and new tools... The corners of her mouth had long since turned south, and there was a particular hardness to her previously warm eyes that suggested her patience was wearing thin. Always waiting on a man!

[Kat]

The healer who tended to Sylvester gave him two rules: do not drink too much, because the alcohol thins blood and will not promote healings, and under no circumstances, do not get into more bar fights. Right now, Sylvester was breaking both rules. He had not drunk very much, however, and in his best defense, Sylvester had not started this particular fight at all. In fact, he had done absolutely nothing in this instance, which was unusual—usually he deserved every punch, nasty word, or kick to the groin which found him.
”Really, man, I didn’t do anything with your girl.”
Sylvester explained as he dodged a punch aimed rather sloppily for his face. The man who attacked him was much more intoxicated than Sylvester, which would have given Sylvester an upper hand had he not been so weak. He, though, could barely throw any punches that would damage anyone. The man swung towards Sylvester’s face, and the man dropped to the ground, dodging the fist with his nimble step. Fuck, he was in trouble. Sylvester did not know what to do, because he knew that he needed to find a way to end this brawl, but the more punches he dodged, the more enraged he became. It was becoming harder and harder to plot ways out of this situation, because Sylvester was finding retaliation grotesquely appealing. He grabbed a metal mug off of the table, and when the man swung towards Sylvester again, the smaller, thin man dodged under the aggressor’s arm, and then pulled the mug towards his body, so that it hit the large man in the back of the head. The hit was not as hard as it needed to be to knock the man out, but it did send a rush of vibration through Sylvester’s arm and bones. The man grunted, and newly enraged, he grabbed the top of Sylvester’s head, wringing upwards on Sylvester’s dark hair until his face pointed towards the man and he was standing only on his toes.

With his face and chin pointed upwards because of this angle, Sylvester coughed, his lungs burning from the stress of his newly increased heartbeat.
“I promise you that you are mistaking me for someone else.”
Sylvester had not slept with a woman since Maggie, which was two months ago, at least, if not more, and Sylvester already had been punished for that sexual activity. His chest stabbing wound proved Sylvester’s already paid penance.
”Look, I really can’t—“
Mid-sentence, roving green-brown eyes caught a glimpse of a sight Sylvester had spent the past few days desperate to see. Outside the window of the tavern, Sylvester saw the unmistakable form of a simourv. This was Sylvester’s ticket to make it back to the Eyrie—he only had to leave the bar, find the rider, and convince the rider and simoruv to carry him to the Eyrie. Sylvester needed to make it there. He needed to see his brother as soon as possible, now that he was so much healthier. Sylvester could not stand to think that Silvanus would be without word of his brother for any longer. Sylvester imagined that the absence probably made Silvanus a wreck. And because of this hesitation, when Sylvester’s attention was captured by the simourv outside, the man he fought got the opportunity to smash his face without any movement from Sylvester. The man’s fist made contact with Sylvester’s cheek. He imagined the punch was supposed to hit his nose, but the other man was not in great control of his limbs at that moment in time. And for that, Sylvester was lucky. As soon as he felt the pain of the punch, Sylvester began to thrash to remove himself from the man’s grasp. He felt some of his hair detach from his head as he struggled. He was almost out when the other man threw another punch, this one hitting Sylvester squarely in the mouth. At least, it was not his nose, and he had not even knocked loose any teeth.

Finally, Sylvester managed to yank himself free, and he dropped to the ground, his legs giving way. Then, Sylvester scuttled backwards, scooting his body as quickly as possible away from the large man. It was from this angle, on the ground, that Sylvester saw the out of place girl. She was perched at a table as far on the periphery of the bar as possible. She looked horribly uncomfortable, and she was fidgeting with boredom, but it looked enough like anxiety to make a point—this was good for Sylvester, who managed to pull his body from off the ground in front of the girl.
”Hey, man, are you really going to hit me in front of my sister?”
Sylvester grumbled. He coughed which sent blood and spittle splashing across the bottom of his face and on the collar of his shirt.
”Look how frightened she looks? Please, we can deal with this later?”
Sylvester protested as he turned towards Diana and offered her what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile from the back. Silvanus might be the more charming of the brother’s, the one able to talk his way out of any situation, but Sylvester could at least understand the ways to manipulate such situations even if he lacked the ability to articulate them in the best ways and even if he lacked his brother’s magnetic charisma. The other man looked positively bewildered. He kept looking from Sylvester to Diana in shock, and then he snorted, took a few steps towards Sylvester, and grabbed his collar.
But we will deal with it later.”
The man snarled, yanking his face right near Sylvester’s face. Then he released Sylvester, who slid on the ground again, right at Diana’s feet.

The other man then walked away, retracting deeper into the bar crowd, leaving Sylvester to fight to get off the ground again. His chest hurt, the area he had been stabbed burning with a certain intensity. It was probably not a good sign, but Sylvester ignored it. He turned towards Diana, and then he dropped himself into a chair near her, where he spread his body out, sprawling his limbs, as he reclined.
”Thanks, I mean, for being here. I don’t know what that was about.”
Sylvester explained. It was at this moment that he realized his face was still covered in blood. He sighed, dropping further into the chair, and then he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. The blood smeared across his face first, a thin red slime across his mouth and chin that he wiped away finally with another drag of his arm. Then, Sylvester smiled at the girl, appearing genuinely grateful for her accidental intervention. He was lucky that no one knew of his family in Sayaie. In Chydyn, he could never attempt to pull any trick like that, because most people, especially around the bars he frequented were well aware of the fact that he was an orphan with only a twin brother to call his own. But in Sayaie, no one knew him. He had a lot more latitude for these kinds of lies.

Sylvester turned his gaze back towards the simourv who was still outside. Sylvester really needed to get out there and talk to the rider. He was not quite sure how he was going to get outside, especially since he knew he needed to engage this woman in conversation long enough to make his ruse believable.
“So, I don’t suppose you are interested in seeing a simourv, because there is one outside…”
Sylvester trailed off as he spoke. His comment sounded quite obvious and leading. He did not know why he lacked his brother’s incredible charm. It was not entirely fair. But perhaps this woman would be interested, and then they could leave the bar together, which would be the best possible scenario.

[winged]

Diana had, in fact, taken great interest in the massive, feathered beast cooling its heels ever so nonchalantly in the street outside. Her rigid displeasure had softened into something almost smacking of child-like awe. She'd seen the creatures from afar, brightly colored smears gliding across a far-off horizon on one important task or another. But never so close, and what a difference it made!

Unfortunately, she didn't get past that initial stage of wonder as the ruckus of feuding men jarred her back into a firmer sense of reality. Jerking her head out of the clouds, the blacksmith craned her neck to get a better look at the two combatants, and immediately wished she hadn't. For being so stolidly built, the blood that so obviously blotted the one staggering fool made her stomach twist in apprehension. He was being physically damaged, and such unwarrranted violence had never sat well with the woman. His assailant didn't seem at all perturbed with the state of things, and so many of the lounge lizards skulking behind the lines had begun clustering together, shouting unsavory things at one man or the other, accusations that set Diana's ears to burning as brightly as her permanently stained face.

Half-risen from her seat in a half-composed bid to intercept before things got out of hand, Diana stopped short as a solid punch knocked the wiry victim to the floor, who then proceeded to scuttle in a pronouncedly undignified way...in her direction. Unconsciously she recoiled as the distance between them was cut a hair too close for comfort, and it took every ounce of composure for the woman not to spit out a most vehement denial as Sylvester's tacky plea neatly roped her into something she most certainly wanted no part of! Stonily, she resumed her seat as the other man weighed and considered his options, her teeth clenched painfully and her face stricken - a passable testimony to a 'sister's' plight, if it weren't for the absurdly noticable lack of resemblance.

Alcohol had a remarkable way of dissolving logic as it did a man's liver, however, and the squabble subsided in a very disappointing end to a very hyped bar brawl. A sea of disappointed faces made a mockery of the implications she now struggled not to punch the sleaze now seated beside her for, her hands balled into massive fists and her muscles straining visibly for action she dared not allow herself to consider.

Diana certainly refused Sylvester so much as a sideways glance, her eyes burning holes through the window pane once more, looking but not seeing the vision she'd been puzzling over just moments before. She'd hoped he wouldn't say a word (oh how she hoped), but of course she wasn't quite that lucky. "I'll stop you now, before you make any more a fool of yourself than you already have." Her words were rough, like jagged bits of metal biting through his half-assed attempt at negotiation. To her credit she did a marvelous job at keeping her voice just beneath the radar, heated as it was. Her face was not quite so subdued, the flush of indignation setting aflame an already rosy face until she looked near ready to combust. A shade her copper hair could hold not a lick to, and a frightening sight to behold.

Her movements were undeniably jerky as she clunkily rose from her seat, meaty fingers clutching for one of the man's dirty sleeves with great transparency - she'd escort him out, against her better judgment, for the sake of the bar owners - they'd done her and her master good business. Pitching her voice louder now, so that it was clearly audible to even the deafest ear, Diana spoke as she tugged. "Let's GO, brother. Ye've had too much to DRINK again." Couldn't you just hear the love oozing from behind those clenched teeth?

[Kat]

Sylvester could feel the contempt radiating off the woman. She did not approve of his actions, but then again, perhaps asking her to approve of his actions was asking far too much of her. He needed her to play along, however, because he did not want to be beaten up anymore, and he wanted to get out of the bar as fast as possible. He wanted to escape the tavern, so that he could catch the attention of the simourv rider before the creature left the city and Sylvester lost his only chance to make it to the Eyrie. No, he had to get out, because if he went much longer without speaking to Silvanus—well, Sylvester did not want to imagine his brother’s reaction. It was going to be bad enough as it was, after two months of no correspondences—longer was not an option. Since Diana kept her gaze so stubbornly off of Sylvester’s body, he kept his own gaze focused elsewhere as well. He knew that he could not risk looking into the crowd, for fear of catching someone’s attention and starting another fight, so he had to find another place to set his gaze. He ended up looking down at the table and tracing the lines of the wood with his thumb. Perhaps he should have not picked the person who looked the most uncomfortable in the bar. Clearly, she did not approve of any bar activities, and yet, she was really perfect because of that. She looked like she was here for another reason—like to pick up a wayward brother, and God knows that Sylvester knew how to play the wayward brother.

When the girl cut off of his statement, Sylvester did not mind that she did so. He did not necessarily like talking all of the time, so he appreciated being hushed before he had to continue. He flashed a small smile to the girl, a light turning of his lips, and he nodded in response. He wanted to show her that he heard her and that his silence was in response to her comment, not that he was just carelessly blowing her off. He heard her biting tone, even though she tried to hide it. Sylvester was very good at understanding vocal variations, because he did learn some things from being around his brother—he could not talk like his brother, but because his brother could talk so well, Sylvester could listen. But even though he heard the scorn, Sylvester acted as if he did not. His body did not register any sign of insult or even reaction towards the girl’s words, beyond the slight nod of his head in reaction to her actual comment. The fact that the girl looked so angry, just aided Sylvester’s situation, where she looked like she genuinely had a reason to be angry at him—because they were siblings, perhaps. It was a perfect reason.

And then—the girl grabbed his arm, and for the first time, Sylvester jerked his head up, his eyes flashing with surprise. He had not expected her to play along so well, and he certainly had not expected her to touch him. He was suddenly painfully aware of how disgusting his shirt was—it had been clean at the beginning of the night, but it was now stained with sweat, beer, and his own blood. He wished that she had not touched his shirt—now he was kind of humiliated, not that he allowed that humiliation to register. But he allowed her to drag him out, anyway, following her with his head hanging as if he was a loyal puppy following his scolding master. As soon as they reached the outside of the bar, Sylvester turned to the girl, and he did not know why his usually quiet demeanor slipped away at that moment, but he felt a strange urge to defend himself to the girl, Maybe it was because she had touched his shirt, and it was disgusting.
”I’m not drunk, just so you know.”
Sylvester muttered quietly as he followed the girl. The simourv was just outside, just barely out of reach, and Sylvester only needed to walk with the girl long enough to reach the rider and barter his way to the Eyrie. He had to keep his goal in perspective. And this girl’s opinion of him—well, it hardly mattered at all.

[winged]

Diana could have happily gone without laying a finger on the grubby man, and his aside soured her already downturned mouth into a tight bud of disapproval and disappointment. Her plain face looked strained in the flickering light of the bar's interior, and was fortunately blanketed in the oncoming darkness once they'd crossed the threshold into the streets. A few steps further and she relinquished her grip on slimy Sylvester, irrationally wiping her sullied palms on her dingy trousers for good measure while she aimed to fix him with her sternest stare.

"That's too bad, then maybe ye'd have a rational EXPLANATION for acting the fool!" She couldn't help it, heavens knew she couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to chew this ratty fellow out! Mama forgive her her sins. Speaking of...dusk had fully settled on Sayaie, and her family must be worrying. It was a tough thing to dig her fangs out of her intended target, to pry open the jaws and just...let it go. But she managed, with a blustery sigh that expressed quite clearly how fed up she was.

"I've got a family waiting on me, and a tab to collect." Not that he had any right to know of her business, it just seemed awkward not to end their brief co-existence with some explanation, some justification for her bailing. He really didn't deserve it, but guilt had started worming its way into her gut and undermining her short-lived rage. She was a good person - a BETTER person than that. "If ye need someplace to stay, there's a home down the street takin' in vagrants. Just do all the good people of this city a favor, and don't make trouble. They don't deserve it."

"Now excuse me." With her bit finished and her soapbox stashed away for another day, Diana gruffly mumbled a 'farewell' before turning to head back inside, collect that damned check, and make it home before her mother made a fuss about her absence. She had all but forgotten the simourv, in the wake of the reality that stretched dauntingly before her. She was plumb tired, and all she really cared for was a hot meal and her lumpy bed. Aspirations were beyond her.

[Lan]

It was Rhett's thirtieth anniversary of his birth. For some that might not be a great occasion, for a lieutenant guard turning thirty wasn't really that interesting of an occurrence. But this particular lieutenant happened to be the older brother of the current Senior Commander of the Eyrie... and that, perhaps in some sense, made it special. Or, at the very least, it made the day special to G'len. So leaving the morning sweep in the capable hands of his squad, he had made his way down to his birth-city of Sayaie to spend much-needed time with his family. It had been a long time since he had seen Rhett, much less even written back to him. The visit seemed overdue.

Alianph came to a landing in the square they had landed in two years prior, his large and dark wings making their descent smooth and graceful for his very large body. The black was met well, with hallos coming from friends of G'len and his brother. Rhett was even there to meet him, smiling broadly with that large mouth surrounded by a well-trimmed beard. G'len smiled back, grinning like a kid as suddenly all the pressures of the Eyrie that were always atop his shoulders fell away. Seeing his brother always did that to him. It reminded him of simpler times. Even if he wouldn't give up his life now for anything in the world, it was nice to be reminded of those good times.

"Well, look what the birds dragged in!" Rhett gave a hearty laugh as he without prompting helped his "little brother" down from the large black. Alianph crowed, partly to announce his presence and partly in response to such a statement. While he wasn't a bird, he had certainly dragged G'len many a places. The guard gave a fond slap to the leg of the black simourv. While they were not bonded, he was Alianph's bonded's brother, and as such was allowed such little interactions without any fear of retaliation. Besides, Alianph liked Rhett. He was a good man. Would have been a good candidate, if it weren't for his age.

"Because I have to be dragged to see you!" G'len laughed, swooping himself into a very masculine embrace of a hug with his brother. Although awkward G'len may be around most people, his brother held a special place in his heart that momentarily made him an outgoing and otherwise extroverted person, capable of showing affection easily. The brunette then stepped back and looked around the piece of the city he found himself in, sighing at what he saw. Even if he hadn't been gone for a very long time by anyone's standards, he could still see changes that would take getting used to.

I shall go take a watch. You enjoy yourself... Alianph stretched his wings in preparation for take off and G'len and Rhett stepped back to brace for his leap. However, it didn't happen. Halfway through a down stroke, the black seemed to have changed his mind. He refolded his wings and settled down. Maybe I'll stay for a moment. It's not too busy this time of day, so I won't be in the way. G'len looked at him oddly, but shrugged it off. Alianph had a mysterious way about him at times. Sometimes the scientist wondered if it was simply because Alianph wanted to keep up appearances of being the largest, most mysterious black. Either way, it didn't bother him.

In another sweep of the area with his observant eyes the blackrider caught sight of a man and a woman appearing to be in gruff confidence, the man looking as if he had taken quite a beating. The guard's eyes followed and, after a brief exchange of glances, both came to the same conclusion. Barfight. And a nasty one at that. G'len took a step toward them and called, although was a bit late to call over the girl, who seemed to have other pressing plans on her mind, "Hey, you there!... You all right?"

Little did he know that his simourv's eyes were set on the young man as well... and also were set on the woman. They were the reason the black had stayed, and surely they would be scrutinized to every detail with those large, amber eyes. Usually forthcoming, Alianph chose to remain silent this time. G'len had already initiated contact with the boy, and soon enough the black was certain that all would be made apparent to both future candidates. All he had to do was wait. Patience was a virtue, after all... sometimes.

[Kat]

Sylvester was sure that he already explained that he had not started the fight—he had not, either. He had been wrongly accused, entirely. He turned towards Diana, and he shook his head, his face gaining a certain indignant flash. Was he supposed to allow a man to thrash him when he did not defend himself? He had not even done a good job defending himself, which was why he looked so horrible at the current moment. It was not like he even egged the other man on. Usually, Sylvester was the instigator, the man who started the squabble in the first place, but today was different, and he had made that already clear. He shook his head and turned towards the girl.
”I already told you that I didn’t start the fight. Was I supposed to let the man hit me until I passed out? I do try to avoid being flailed to death.”
Sylvester protested, his face twisting into what could only be described as a pout. He did not know why, but he disliked that this girl had the wrong impression of his intentions. He would have been fine with her thinking that he was such a terrible creature, such a pig, if he had truly preformed the action he was being blamed for, but he did not. There were enough reasons to disapprove of Sylvester without adding false charges onto his person.

And then, the girl had the indecency of telling him to go live in a home for vagrants. If he needed somewhere to live, he could figure it out on his own, and besides, he had been in Sayaie for months. He had been living on his own for months, and by now, he could take care of himself. The truth of the matter was that he was still living with the surgeon who healed his injury, who he would have to repay in some way some day, but for now who was supporting Sylvester for free. He turned towards Diana, the frustration clearly sketched across his face.
”I can take care of myself, you know. I’ve been doing it for months. Just because I got in one bar fight does not make me a vagrant.”
Of course, this particular challenge was false, as Diana gleaned the correct understanding of Sylvester from their interaction, but Sylvester still found her manner difficult and annoying. He had to remind himself that she had saved him in a tight situation, and as soon as he realized that fact, the man turned towards Diana with a sheepish and apologetic expression.
“I’m sorry. You’re only trying to help me, and you have already done quite a bit. I am still indebted to you.”
Sylvester muttered, and although he remained hesitant and quiet, his words were true, and that showed through his gruff tone. He had no right to snap at her.

Before Sylvester could even approach the simourv rider, the man called out to him. The young man turned, and stared directly at G’len, an almost stunned look flashing across his face. This was simply too easy. He had spent so long planning out the ways to approach the large creature and his rider. And the creature was so very large—larger, even, then any of the other simourvs Sylvester had ever seen. He seemed to remember blacks being the largest of the male simourvs, and there was only one full grown gray, from what he remembered. Not that Sylvester spent a lot of time learning about the simourvs. He had only been in the Eyrie maybe a week, but people talked. People talked a lot, and Sylvester was a really good listener. He raised his hand in greeting to G’len, and his face burst into a large, lopsided smile. Because of the wide girth of his smile, and the sudden movements of his lips, the gash which had finally clotted and stopped bleeding burst open again, and Sylvester felt the blood trickling down his face. He wiped it away again with the side of his sleeve, so that the blood transferred from his chin to his shirt.
”Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’ve definitely been hurt worse.”
Sylvester called as he moved closer to the rider so he could converse with the man. Soon, Sylvester was standing within average talking distance with G’len. Sylvester took a second before he managed to work up the nerve to speak to the rider. If he was his brother, he would be able to speak immediately, without even having to hesitate, but Sylvester was unfortunately quite himself. He paused for a second, wiped more blood off of his lip, and then took a deep breath.
”But you could help me out. My brother is living at the Eyrie, as one of your candidates, and I really need to see him. I know that I ask a lot, and I do not have a lot to repay you with, but I was hoping you could take me to the Eyrie? On your simourv? I can’t think of another way to get there.”
Sylvester realized that he had to offer something in payment, but he had so little to offer. He had to think of something. Everything had a price, and as much as he hated being controlled, Sylvester knew that he had to offer something in return. The man might have had questionable actions and a complete lack of judgment, but he was not completely amoral.
“I can’t repay you with anything like physical, but I can work hard, and I am willing to work off the dept. I used to apprentice to an apothecary, so I have some skill with botanicals, and I can do hard labor, too.”
Sylvester explained, and his voice conveyed his desperation. He needed to get to the Eyrie—if he had to sell his labor, so be it. He might resent the Eyrie more, if he was bossed around, but ultimately, it would be worth it. Besides, Sylvester did have skill to offer. He was no vagrant. He was educated. He had held a job for almost his entire life.
”So, umm…what do you think?”
Sylvester questioned, his lips pulling into a questioning smile. At least his lip had stopped bleeding for a second time. He was not a completely pathetic show.

[winged]

Their short lived conversation having come to an impasse, Diana had willfully severed the ties that left her duty-bound to harangue the gentleman who, for all intents and purposes, felt no desire to better his life, or the lives of others. It was a fool's errand to push the matter any further, and her exhaustion was quickly sawing through the last few threads that held her frayed composure in place. Relinquishing interference, assured that she'd done the best she could by the man, given the circumstances, Diana had nearly crossed the threshold of the bar before G'len's clear voice punctuated the stifled, unnatural silence.

With her back turned, and her now slouching posture positive to conceal her face from view, Diana's face tightened in mild disappointment and disapproval. It was a rather presumptuous move on his behalf, regardless of his elevated rank. The woman could feel her blood pressure trickling back up the scales, the back of her neck flushed and exuding heat as she wearily rubbed the tight, knotted muscles there before glancing warily over one shoulder at the man now besieged by a suddenly effervescent Sylvester.

Clearly the man had ulterior motives, and she opted to conveniently ignore them as her gaze shifted from G'len to Alianph, who seemed to be gazing her way with a curiously strong sense of calculation. Her rosy cheeks flamed a more intense scarlet as she returned the look with a cautiously curious one of her own. Her disdain for the simourv's rider seemed to fade in the presence of such a powerful creature. There again, curiosity shot through with juvenile awe and amazement. Completely unaware that she'd frozen in a most inconvenient spot for any seeking to enter or leave the bar, Diana stared with reserved reverence.