naïveté [ Kat! ]

[Kilnarak]

The Eyrie was so grand. The red-rock cliffs loomed overhead, the light of the setting sun slowly painting across the upper reaches - a brighter red against the purplish shadows, a reverse bleed, dripping back up into the sky. The vibrant red of the cliffs, the deepening blue of the sky - it made Azaria wish he had an artist's hands or a poet's tongue, something to capture the beauty of the place. But the blonde boy had neither and so instead he merely gazed upon the deepening twilight, trying to remember every detail so that he might recall it later.

Perhaps he struck a strange sight, a pale shade standing still amidst all the bustle of closing market stalls and children darting to-and-fro (always away from their parents' legs); a ghost standing silent amidst all the laughter, chastising calls, and simple noise. The idea didn't even dawn on Azaria, however, caught up as he was in the awe-inspiring sights. He barely even felt the chill of the coming night, wrapped in a thick gray woolen sweater and heavy brown trousers - even nightfall was strange here, the high walls of the canyon darkening the surroundings and torches had already been lit, here and there along the roads through the cliffs.

It was only when a child barreled into his legs that Azaria's attention was brought down to earth again. The boy staggered under the sudden blow, yelping in start as he flailed to regain his balance, but the child was already up and running again, disappearing amidst the crowds without even a 'sorry' to offer Azaria. The blonde barely even knew what hit him, just catching the barest sight of the fleeing child - dark olive skin and hair shaded black by the dimming light.

He didn't make much of the encounter, taking little away from it than a vague sense of shock - it felt like he had been unceremoniously dumped out of a daydream, shaken back to his senses. Of course, now that he was aware of those senses, they began to drag upon him - his stomach growled something fierce, reminding him that he hadn't eaten much since he had arrived earlier that day and been shown to the room in which he would be staying - a room far too large for him alone, and the second bunk above his bed told him he was meant to share. There hadn't been anyone else there, however, and the place had had an air of lonely vacancy - he wondered how long it had been since it had been cleared of its former occupants.

His stomach growled again, insistently drawing him out of his brief reverie about his arrival earlier that day. Azaria wondered if anyone else heard it, before he set off to see that his indignant belly was filled. Some of the stalls that were being cleaned out and closed seemed to have sold different foodstuffs - of course he had been told there were actual kitchens somewhere further in the labyrinthine corridors that comprised the heart of the Eyrie, but he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't get lost trying to find them and besides: these stalls were closer.

He moved to one that seemed the most appetizing, a cart that sold skewers of roasted vegetables and meat. When Azaria arrived the fires were just being put out and all of the merchant's supplies being packed away for the night. He managed, with a bit of haggling, to talk the man into giving him three of the skewers for a diask - perhaps he could have argued for more, but three would do him well enough, and would do the merchant as well, since they would likely have gone to waste otherwise.

Azaria patted his pockets, trying to locate his coin-purse to pay the man, smiling and making idle conversation. However, after a few moments of searching until he turned his pockets inside out, he still hadn't located the money-pouch. The boy's thick blonde brows furrowed and a frown touched his lips. "Ah, it was just here a moment ago," he mumbled, confused and a little frustrated. Had he dropped it? He looked back the way he had come, eyes scanning the ground, but he didn't see anything. Where could it have gone?

[Kat]

Sylvester found the Eyrie terribly boring. He had been spoiled by Sayaie, perhaps, and the bustle of the largest city, because now he found the inaction of the cave cluster oppressive. At least when he was in Chydyn, Sylvester could work for Graham, but in the Eyrie, he was almost completely reliant on the whims of his friends, who were all terribly preoccupied with the awful creatures who ran the Eyrie. How much Sylvester resented the simourvs sometimes; other times he tolerated them, if only for the affection they showed for Sylvester’s most significant people, but for the most part, he felt they removed his whole reason for his existence. Not even Silvanus needed Sylvester anymore, now that the twin had the black hatchling. So, bored as he was, Sylvester needed some way to fill his time, and the way Sylvester had decided to spend his lazy afternoon was with his second favorite hobby, drinking. Leaning against a stand selling ale, Sylvester sipped from a large mug, not speaking to anyone around him, but rather just lounging, dour and silent. The man selling the ale chatted to Sylvester, cheerily chirping away, but Sylvester did not even appear to listen. Instead, the man’s blue-green eyes flicked across the crowd, watching the people around him with casual disinterest.

Azaria’s appearance caught Sylvester’s eye, if only because the other man stood out amongst the crowd. The delicateness of Azaria’s appearance, the lightness of his features against the dark crowd—it was appealing, if only from a place of interest. Sylvester did not stare, he was not the kind of man who stared, but he kept Azaria at the edge of his vision before he forgot about the blond entirely. Too many people passed through Sylvester’s vision for him to keep his attention on one, especially since Sylvester was not interested enough to pursue. He was not quite over the girl who broke his heart before his accident, Sylvester wanted to believe, but a part of him remained rather fixated on the idea of E’an. When Azaria appeared right next to Sylvester, stopping at a kabab stand right next to Sylvester’s booth, however, the man’s interest was rekindled. He did not change positions, or even shift his glossy gaze away from the crowd, but he just kept the boy on the periphery of his attention.

Sylvester was listening closely enough to realize the nature of the exchange between the boy and the vender. After letting Azaria’s confused comment rest in the air for an extended second, Sylvester sulked closer to the food stand, finally releasing his body from his position on the ale booth. Sylvester did not speak even for another second, rather he stood, with his hands in his pockets, behind Azaria, surveying the skewer seller intensely. Without a sound, Sylvester moved one of his hands from his pocket, and dropped two diasks on the counter.
”Add another three skewers, and his are on me.”
Sylvester grumbled. He then turned to Azaria, finally resting his gaze on the other boy’s eyes.
“You should be more careful with your wallet. I suspect that boy who ran into you earlier stole it.”
Sylvester replied. He did not care if Azaria would find it creepy or uncomfortable that Sylvester had been watching earlier. Sylvester did not care about the way anyone perceived him. When the kababs were placed on the booth counter, Sylvester grabbed three, his own, leaving the other three for Azaria. Sylvester did not say anything else.

[Kilnarak]

Preoccupied with his dilemma, Azaria did not notice the tall man moving up from behind him until he spoke. The voice so close behind him startled him out of his worry and caused him to jump slightly, half turning to peer at the stranger with wide bluish eyes - confused and questioning. It took him a few moments more (about the time that the vendor cleared his throat to draw the boy's attention back to his purchase) to realize what the stranger had done. He gathered up the three kebabs that he had meant to buy quick enough and took a few steps away from the stand on the off-chance that he might block another possible customer from the man.

While he moved a short few steps away - putting a bit more distance between himself and Sylvester - he didn't leave. Rather, he turned back to the taller man and offered a slightly nervous but still sincere smile and inclined his head in thanks. "Ah, you didn't have to. Um, I suppose I was in the way, I could have moved." He had been taking to long at the stall, after all, of course he had been blocking other customers - it seemed a good enough explanation for why this stranger had paid for his meal. "That, um, isn't to say I'm not-- Er. Thanks?" He laughed a little, self-conscious in part due to the little scene he had caused and in part due to the reaction his... savior, was it?... had elicited; a faint flush blooming on his cheeks.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that there are thieves here," he continued after a moment, once he had regained at least some small bit of composure. "... and glad he only took my wallet. There, ah, wasn't so much in it to lose. Um." He paused, realization dawning on him along with confusion: "You, um, you saw that, then?"

[Kat]

The other boy looked so nervous. Was Sylvester so rough looking that he scared the boy? Even though Sylvester acknowledged that he had a certain harshness to his appearance, he did not think he looked dangerous or aggressive. Perhaps he did look that way, frightening, horrible, as if the aggression of his consciousness, which he continued to act upon in greater frequency actually stained his appearance. At one point, Sly only looked mischievous, like a small, but harmless twin terror. Now, he guessed he did look more dangerous, even when his body looked weak and gaunt due to his slow recovery. Maybe Sly was out of control, if he was out of control enough to frighten people. Maybe the boy was just nervous. Sylvester probably read too much into the situation.
“If I wanted you move, I would have said somethin’. You seemed like you could use a meal. It was nothing. I have a pretty steady income.”
Sylvester explains as a small smile crept onto his face. He stepped a bit closer to Azaria, so that Sylvester could pat the other boy on the shoulder. Sylvester was forward, certainly, and impulsive, and he saw nothing wrong with a bit of physical contact.

Sylvester kept his hand on Azaria’s shoulder only for a few seconds, a brief, prolonged moment. Then, with a shrug of his own shoulders, Sylvester shook his head.
”Personally, I am surprised. I didn’t think anythin’ exciting happened in this boring-ass place. Small joint, I mean. But I guess shitty people exist everywhere.”
Sylvester said, and his mouth twitched into a small, self assured or perhaps pleased, smirk. His day had been rather boring, and all the sudden, Sylvester realized that he had stumbled upon something to do. The boy was interesting, Sylvester admitted, and even in a bizarre way attractive, although quite feminine, but Sylvester was far more excited about the prospect of an adventure for the day. The Eyrie life was far from thrilling, and had it been easier to leave, Sylvester would. Of course, he did not want to leave his brother—not yet, especially since Sylvester knew that the fact he had been so injured the last time he left his brother scared Silas. Sylvester was not quite ready to stress his family again. He still felt a bit guilty for the last time.

To answer Azaria’s question, Sly raised an eyebrow. He did not have much to say, although he knew he would have to provide an answer. Most people were fine with silence, Sylvester knew.
“I don’t have much to do around here, so I’ve taken to people watching. You kind of stand out, so I noticed when you were hit. If I realized you’d been robbed, though, I would have done somethin’ about it. So I’m sorry.”
Sylvester replied, his voice casually toneless. He then paused, a rather long pause for the middle of a conversation, before he started to speak again.
“I got a decent look at the boy, though, so perhaps we can attempt to find him to get your wallet back. There’s no reason to let him go.”
Sylvester suggested with a small shrug of his shoulders. He did not really care if the other boy chose to search or not. Sly could find other things to do with his day. He was just not the kind of person to back down from a fight or to surrender his property.
”I’m Sylvester, by the way.”
Sylvester added with another small shrug.