Sit, Kella, Sit! Now Play Dead. (Godah Please)

[Kella Greeran]

TS: 20th of Cryxatum, Spring, PF XV

Spring had come to Arakmat unfurling her golden train and gathering the sun in her hair. The cold had withered under her hand, but the sands could not produce a carpet verdant enough for the season's feet. It made Kella squirm and pout as she stared out the window of her office towards the edges of the city. Sand, sand, sand, rock to add a little spice, and more sand.
The Vagaran's blood still remembered a land of killing winters fading into the bounty of spring. When rain pierced the world and churned forth lilacs and crocus, signs of hope and superfluous beauty to outweigh nature's cruelty. None of this endless sand $#*!.

The sand really wasn't so bad; Kella knew this. There was a peace to this uncommon landscape, but her birth-brightening was creeping towards her. She had grown accustomed to frequently celebrating it amidst nature's bouquet, or even just guessing the nearness of the brightening by the height of the poppies. A child's habit, but it gave her comfort when she had no home to find some familiarity in the changing landscapes, be it the progress of the flowers or the nature of the seasons.

On one brightening of Cryxatum, the feeling overwhelmed her into action. She was going to see a garden, by Aeternia or avalanche. So after the business of the brightening had concluded, Kella was ready to beg or bluff her way through the palace's gates. As she walked, she concocted all manner of ways to wheedle her way in unaccompanied. By the time she hit the gates, she had no less than five tactics to gain entry. It was almost a bit of a let down when the guards simply let her wander in. She had been invited at one point, but who was to say if the wealthy ever really meant their invitations? Kella felt sheepish, the Sultan seemed a good enough fellow to mean what he said. Considering she was now drifting idly between tall vermillion amaryllis and pots of white plumeria, Rafiq was a man of his word.

Lulled by the lavish expression of nature's will, Kella made a seat on a narrow tiled ledge. She was snug between two pots. The jars caught her attention, they bore delicate reliefs of stars and vines cross-hatching one another. Semi-precious stones supplied deep drops of color where the painter's pigment felt unworthy. While Kella bent to inspect one vessel more closely, the scabbard of her long dagger jutted out and knocked the other work of art to the ground with a sickening crash.

Black earth and scrupulously nourished bulbs scattered over Kella's boot-tops, and the precious fragments of the jar still spun and wobbled on the ground.

The Vagaran went to her knees to gather the pieces.

Crap! Crap! Crap! Couldn't just steal a flower like last time, could you!?

To make matters worse, Kella heard something like footsteps closing in, but they were too smooth and padded for a servant's shoes.

You're never getting invited back. Anywhere. Ever.

[Godah]

It had been a while now that Godah came back to his city, two seasons even. He was working to set things right, working as an advisor to the Sultan and keeping an eye on the empire-or whatever it was called.

So, he took the habit to wake early in the mornings and go to his offices at the Palace. He would take his time walking in the streets, greeting people on his way and taking what information he could. He was close to the population that he considered as his broad family. He would then reach his offices in the Palace proper, find his way to the small room where he took place. It was a small room with a wooden plain door that didn't hint of any rank the officer held. He was the Akhenaslan Al Hattar Pasha Vizier and personal advisor of the Sultan, trusted of the trusted. But to himself, he was only Godah, the grey furred dorin.

So, on that brightening of spring, he was behind his desk and his mind was racing through events and facts. He tried to collect all the information he had and it felt as if the whole world was on his shoulders. Then suddenly, a sound came piercing the air from the gardens. In fact, the dorin's office had a window that gave to the gardens and he often appreciated to look at the green sights.

The sound was visibly one of a breaking thing. But Godah wondered what that could be. He decided to check that by himself. Not that he didn't trust the guards to do so but, to say the truth, he just wanted to escape from his office and breath the fresh air of the gardens.

So in no time he managed to get to the green area and moved closer to where the sound came from. It was not hard for him to locate the source, with ears as sensitive as a dorin's ones that was a simple feat. But before he got there, he caught it. The scent of a human, clearly of a human who was nervous. Dorin senses were sharper than what most people thought.

Finally, with little surprise, Godah discovered the 'criminal'. She was gathering shattered fragments on the soil and she seemed worrying.

Letting a soft growl out from his throat, the dorin continued with more common words.

"Feslan...Any help you need?"

He didn't want to frighten the lady more than she was but he was too aware that she was not a nairu, so not a servant of the Palace, and she could be a thief. Her frame and garb only added to his suspicion. If any, Godah was an accomplished warrior and he needed no guards to deal with a thief.

[Kella Greeran]

Kella had always considered herself rather tame looking. She'd seen far worse, but then she had maintained rather eccentric company for most her life. Being the mildest looking member of a circus troupe did not mean she was fit for tea at the Palace. (If memory served she only drank whiskey at the Palace anyway.)

All this to say, if Kella showed up on any respectable doorstep asking where one's eldest son was for their date, a sane parent would feign an ignorance of common and latch the windows.

The Vagaran in front of Godah looked every inch like someone that was up to no good, complete with antsy mannerisms, a scar or two on her limbs and a whole host of tattoos. She hastily stood, with hands behind her back and her left foot trying to discreetly sweep something behind her.

Her first reaction to Godah was a quick widening of the eyes and a startled exclamation.
"Diana's pink arse, you're a tall fellow!"
She continued with more admiration than surprise. "About as high as my friend, Ging--. I mean-- Eyvind, I wager."
Suddenly recalling his greeting she said, "Oh… yes…er… Feslan to you too."

This one was smooth.

She coughed into one hand, her pewter-blue eyes darting to and fro. When she spoke again, she leaned in and her voice was lower and conspiratorial.
"Help? Maybe. Two questions: Who are you, Sir? And what's it going to take to get you to pretend you never saw this?"

The woman leaned back and gave a small crooked smile as she took Godah in. Her tone was more buoyant as she went on.
"Don't know many Dorins. I had a Cencoris who was a Dorin. I was rather fond of him." By her expression, this was a true bit of pleasantry.
"Even if he did make me crawl through swamps and cut a man ear to ear." An easy shrug to accompany her chipper tone that oddly lingered despite the darker turn in the subject matter.
"Lud, what can you do? Such is life."

The flitting bit of friendliness dimmed to a mild look of concern as she recalled her situation.
"So about my first two questions…?"

[Godah]

Her exclamation! It was none that the dorin ever heard before and his first reaction was to contract his muscles at the curse. He was never a real support for the aelyrian goddess and even if he didn't blasphem, Godah didn't mind a lot that someone would swear by Diana most sacred behind. But beyond the surprise and the funny situation, the dorin had his eyes and ears already gathering information. The dorin who stood there was after all more than what the eyes thought.

Of course, the first thing he noticed was the frame, visibly not that of a housewife or even the well educated ladies of Jaedaxia and Port Alyxandrya. She was not of the precious kind of women, not in the sense that people understood precious. The dorin could not be human or elf but he lived enough among them to know how their world worked. He understood that the woman was perhaps a mercenary, a thief or even a clown of the circus. Many possibilities but a clown rarely had scars and a dagger.

But a big part of the mystery faded when she spoke. It was not much her comment on his size that caught his attention but the name she used after. Eyvind was not a so common name and Godah could suppose that the woman spoke of the same Eyvind. But before he could place a word she continued her monologue. Gods she spoke a lot, thought the dorin as he smiled-hard for anyone to guess a dorin smile though-as she mentioned 'having' a Cencoris.

So she is a legionnaire

The thought crossed his mind as he took note of the information. But what was a legionnaire doing in the gardens of the Palace and...breaking jars. The dorin grinned when she spoke about cutting a man, the very prefered dorin punishement.

Finally he decided to speak.

"Your questions, yes. I will answer the second first if you would permit. Yes, I can"

The dorin paused for a moment letting her take what he said and undestand it.

"But before I answer you first question, tell me why I should help you with...that. What is a legionnaire doing in the gardens of the Palace? Is it a new trend among the imperial ranks?"

He put his own questions to be answered and he inserted his deductions and let the woman make her own analysis. But not stopping there he wanted to surprise her a bit.

"And, by the way, how is our friend Avornmagor doing? I hope he is faring well"

He was curious to see her reaction.

[Kella Greeran]

OOC my apologies for not posting in so long! Especially since i was/am jazzed to do a thread with you

Godah's even tone and steady mien made Kella feel like she was being reprimanded by a commanding officer.
"Well- uh," she scratched the back of her head, "About that..."

Then the woman blinked as Eyvind's surname settled into her brain. She was lucky to remember his family name as she barely addressed him by anything but "Ginger" or "Captain Aelyria".

"Oh-- you know Ginger! I mean- Eyvind. He and I were in the same class. However, he has gone on to grander things on that front. Especially if he's rubbing elbows with official sorts like yourself."
Her smile was slim and a little crooked.
"Left him in Taralon last Immanis when the Consul recruited me. He was probably glad to see me go as I was a terrible freeloader. Poor Ginger seemed a bit weary, but I'm sure he's pulled through. The man is as stubborn as a mule."

Now her story was beginning to be relevant.
"I'm not a Legionnaire anymore, honorable discharge from the Prince on account of his sister wanting to cart me around Arakmat as her assistant. I suspect because she finds me highly entertaining."
Her manner of self-deprecation was almost charming, as if she had a light touch on the world and men's desire for prestige.

"She and I visited the Sultan a bit back, and he gave me permission to visit the gardens. Cross my heart. I just got antsy and felt like taking him upon the offer."
A shrug of her bright shoulders and sheepish grin, "Used to have drills to keep away restlessness. I almost miss wielding a blade though I was never much good at it."

Kella realized she was talking more than usual, a likely side-effect of being cooped up in her office in a city devoid of the green overtures of Spring. She pressed her lips together in a visible attempt to still her tongue. Gods, what had happened to her? In her Black Bell days she had a little more discretion, but then she had little to be discrete about anymore.

She wanted to ask Godah how he met Ginger, and what his position was in the Palace, but felt she'd already unleashed a deluge on the Dorin.