What Comes After a Ball? (Open to Any)

[Michael Poe]

First Cycle of Melora in the Season of Winter
Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XV Post Fractum.
Just After the Masquerade Ball

Michael strode along the beach, boots in hand. At was late in the darkening, the ball having ended not too long previous. He let his toes wiggle in the soft sand as he stepped slowly. His trousers were rolled up to mid-shin, allowing for some of the flowing water to wash up over his feet. It was winter, to be sure, but Michael had a deep bond with the sea. No matter the season, he could feel it calling to him and would always be happier feeling the salt water wash over his skin.

He was still somewhat clammy from the crowded gathering at the thane's manor, and though it was splendid, he was well aware that he was the most underdressed person who'd been present. He hadn't cared, of course, but there was something to be said for dressing up, he supposed. He held in his hand the black 'bandit strip' he'd worn, rolled up into a ball. He turned and rolled his arm back, before launching the thin black strip of cloth into the sea. As he saw it washed out by the ebb of the sea, he felt a slight smile linger upon his well-structured visage.

Quite the darkening, he grinned, Wonder what'll come next. His pace was slow and lazy, and though there was a slight chill, most of winter was past and so it wasn't quite so bad as it might otherwise have been, though his heavy green cloak protected him from the worst of the cold...though it did little for his feet, turning red as they screamed for better circulation in their freezing-ness. He felt himself meandering slowly, no real destination in mind, simply walking the sandy shore. He had a lot of energy and felt that the darkening shouldn't have ended just yet, but it had. A shame, really, considering how appealing he'd been, he was sure of it...but perhaps it was better for him to wind up alone for now.

He'd put on a lot of charm, but most of that was swagger for the ball. Oh, he was a confident and composed man--bordering on arrogant, in fact--but despite his composed confidence, he'd still felt enormously fake at the ball. Sometimes it was nice to dream of happily exposing his real soul to someone...but he'd never known love. Aeterinia, he barely knew friendship. Even now, with all the fun he'd had....

...despite it all, in that moment, Michael Poe had never felt more alone. Usually he was alright with alone, it was how he'd survived thusfar, but in that random moment a significant part of him didn't want to be. It was tired of 'alone'...but yet he didn't feel the desire to tether himself eternally to one person, either. Quite the horrifying quandary. Was he doomed, then, to wander from maiden to maiden, trying to erase the lonliness while not giving up his life of singularity? How pitiful was such an existence?

Times like this I wish I could just steal a ship, take to the sea, and leave everything behind...maybe go back home to Freeport. Everything seemed so much simpler there...

[Viskyia Crow]

She'd left early, like she always did with such things, making sure the ladies had fun and that Jobbie would have been on time to pick them up. Viskyia was too restless to stay at a glittering party too long, even if it was one filled with people she both liked and admired. Never very comfortable with such things, once she'd danced with everyone who'd seemed alone or wanted one, she'd slipped back out to the gardens, where she'd originally went with M'caiyah, and then out the back gate and on home. Viskyia had checked on the children, reassuring herself that they were fine, and then had changed into less formal clothing. Black leggings, a thick sweater, and a light pair of boots allowed her to head back out to the beach and take a good long run. She headed back down the beach, pushing herself to enjoy the night while the winds weren't blowing and the seas were relatively calm.

Viskyia's hair was swept up in a ponytail, making her look even younger than her 32 half-Esh years and it bounced in a long straight fall of translucent strands as she jogged. And she moved on swiftly, her head down as she scanned the line of flotsum washed up by the eager waves. She often found tumbled glass or odd stones there, so she kept an eye out just in case a glass float or perhaps a unique shell turned up.

She didn't think anyone else would be out on the beach at this hour, let alone the gentleman at the masque who'd declined to wear a costume other than a thin strip of black across his eyes. The jeweler widened her citrine eyes when she saw him and came to almost a halt, dropping her hands to her knees to blow slightly, catching her breath after the nearly four miles to Stormwatch.

Once she could speak without a breathless voice, she smiled slightly and gestured at the black strip. "I thought the last person to unmask a bandit would be the bandit himself?" She asked, then smiled, wondering if she'd be intruding on his solitude. Would he even recognize her? Probably... the hair and eyes cursed her anonymousness away. If the truth be told, Viskyia's own thoughts ran along similar lines to Michaels, though not quite in the same way. Viskyia had left the ball because all the couples forming up had bothered her just a bit. Viskyia always felt nervous and slightly uncomfortable when people started pairing up. Her own personal hangups lent themselves to forcing her to shy away from such things due to past failures and self depreciating ideals. That didn't mean she fluttered from men to men. It was just the opposite. She avoided attachment and commitment all together. Then she threw her affections at the children who now lived with her.

So it was that she waited, hands shoved into the long pockets of the warm sweater, and studied him with a friendliness that wasn't flirtatious, but wasn't entirely closed up either. "Would you like some company?" She finally, almost shly. Michael was far older than the men she was used to, but it wasn't something that was enough to cause her not to want to know him a little better. Titus, after all, was one of her favorite people n the world, and he was in his late seventies.

[Michael Poe]

Michael truly hadn't been paying attention, as lost in thought as he was. Were he still prefect it would be a neigh-unforgivable lapse, but as he had to keep reminding himself, he did not hold such a role anymore. Thus, when Viskyia approached and spoke to him, he was startled out of his reverie. He turned to face the owner of the voice that had startled him so, and found his eyes resting on yet another of the ghost-skinned elfkin. So many of those seemed to be about this darkening...

...but no, he recognized this one. She was in a different outfit, but the shade of her hair, the shape of her face, and those citrine eyes...this was the first one he'd spoken to that night...this was the woman who'd offered him the job. As he recognized her, his smile flickered back onto his face. Though it was indeed a smile, it was somehow more genuine than he'd shown at the ball...even he thought so. His liquid brown gaze softened slightly as the alighted upon the woman, and his expression, in that moment, seemed to almost turn tender.

"Kyia. Of course I'd love your company." He chuckled and motioned to the bandit strip, shrugging. "That did me little good anyway, since my damnedable sense of honor had me telling you who I was in no time flat. Besides, I truly doubt it would do much to conceal my identity." His voice, while light and playful at first, but even that seemed more...earnest somehow. Almost like he was only for the first time letting a hint of the real him peek out. Perhaps it had been his train of thought before the Esh'lehier's arrival, or perhaps it had been that Viskyia had seemed the most honest of all the women he'd seen at the ball, but regardless he seemed more genuine than he had at the ball.

"What has you out here at this time of darkening?" he asked courtiously, his intelligent gaze caressing her form without discretion before eventually slipping back up to meet her own, "I, obviously, was lost in thoughts of past and future, hence my lack of awareness of the present. Either you are a far more aware person than I, or you are here for a different reason than the ocean helps you think and feels comfortable." Indeed, the ocean helped him feel comfortable and at home at times, especially when things seemed so muddled for him.

[Viskyia Crow]

It was unusual that a night on Demios in the heart of winter didn't threaten snow. It was also unusual that two strangers would stand in the dark on the beach and neither feel slightly threatened. Of course, Viskyia was dressed to run and fight and do all the other things in the world she loved. She couldn't help it, knives strapped beneath the bulk of her sweater always gave her a boldness and confidence she normally wouldn't feel, especially the double bladed ones she'd picked up on her trip with Amelia. And too, she thought how odd it was to be standing on the beach, letting the wind swirl around her, and having a perfectly normally conversation with someone she'd just met. The half-esh shifted, leaned her body back on the balls of her heels, and looked thoughtful. She wondered who the real man was standing before her. Dashing confident rogue attending a masque in his street clothing, or the pensive stoic man bearing witness to the sea and seemingly lost in communion with it. Truth be told, she'd have been content to stand there a bit longer as a silent witness to what exactly he had been doing, for above everything, Kyia was an observer of people... a voyeur standing on the outside who loved just looking in on others and their lives. When he spoke, she simply smiled and responded with a quiet... "Sometimes it is near impossible to hide who we are." Though her words were plain enough, the way she said them might make someone blink and pause, because she seemed to be more speaking of a force of personality rather than actual appearance. Her words matched his, truth be told, forthright and genuinely spoken.

And when he asked, she had no problems volunteering her reasons for visiting the beach. "I don't sleep much. Never have. I'm... a little restless at night, so sometimes I run the beach. When I moved here, I made sure I took up residence in close proximity, and haven't regretted it since. I'm not sure its the ocean though... for me it seems the wind captures my heavier thoughts and bears them out to sea, and decidedly away. It's almost... a recharge to run the beach, and something I miss terribly if I don't." She said thoughtfully, studying his expression. "I doubt it was a lack of awareness of the present. There is no danger here, so there is no need to guard against it. Not now at least... not yet. Someday, maybe so." She said, bringing her left hand up to rub at the base of the back of her neck. Viskyia shook one leg out then the other, and turned to fall into step beside him. "Walk with me?" She asked, not missing the fact that he didn't bother to hide where his eyes were roaming or indeed that he was gathering thoughts behind his gaze. She could walk as much as run, though both were equally agreeable in exchange to standing and staring at him.

Viskyia wasn't much of a 'talker'. She'd rather just go do something than discuss it at length. In the years she'd lived, most of that time had been spent alone, so her communication skills were only recently developed, and somewhat awkward at times. "It's good, I think, that you returned to Demios. Everything here, I've found, has a synchronicity to it, whether we like it or not. You strike me, Michael, as someone who's in a lull in their life... that gray in between time waiting for whatever is next to happen. Did you come here to find that next step? Or just to find yourself?" She asked, curious and feeling strangely comfortable with him enough to skip the light talk that she was so bad at anyhow.

The pathway they took lead back up the beach in the direction she'd come from, and indeed the direction he'd been originally wandering. Wandering. The thought struck Viskyia and she wondered where he was staying. Either way, the leap of faith was easily accessible in the direction they were headed if he was indeed on his home... if that was his home for now, like it seemed to be for everyone else.

[Michael Poe]

At her initial, quiet response the human couldn't help but let out an equally quiet chuckle. She was indeed quiet a woman, and she was proving that with every word. A peculiar specimen as far as women went, but then, he liked women that were peculiar. As he'd said to Jasmyn earlier that darkening, 'better to be interesting than good'...or somesuch saying. That applied to women just as much as his personal preference for himself.

"Indeed...no matter how much we run or hide from who we are, our real selves always seem to find us, don't they?" The words were spoken with a half faraway quality to them, as though he were discussing something from a distant memory, before speaking again, having returned once more to the present.

"Any reason for your restlessness? 'An inability to sleep comfortably usually is the sign of a perturbance of the tranquility of the soul', a wise woman once told me. I suffered from a similar problem shortly after immigrating to the Empire. It was a long time ago...I don't remember if I ever solved the problem or it eventually went away, but I have no trouble sleeping now." He shifted gears thoughtfully, grinning, but still in a more genuine fashion than the flirtatious manner he had at the ball.

" 'The wind and the ocean go hand in hand...two parts of the same whole, and only a ship's captain can master both sides.' Yet another saying, this one by a wise man...the gentleman who brought me over here to the Empire, in fact." He paused for a second and chuckled. "I'll stop with the corny quotes. I keep it up and you might think I've got no wisdom of my own, merely that gleaned and stolen from others." As she offered to let him walk with her, he nodded and moved in stride with her, his bare feet still enjoying the feeling of the sand between his toes. He heard her words, and knew how awkward they sounded, even to her. That was an interesting tidbit. She wasn't used to social situations much, it seemed. At least, not to being an active participant therein.

"Demios indeed is a very...balancing place. Your description is indeed rather accurate. I have reached a lull. I don't think I came here just for myself or the next step in my life...rather a bit of both. I'm trying to solve myself, and I don't know where I should go next, either as a person or within the grand scheme of life. I've lost my way in both areas, and I've tasked myself with finding out what comes next. Or, perhaps, in doing so, the next step will come and find me weather I like it or not." He chuckled softly and shrugged helplessly, then realized exactly how in-depth he was going with this woman he'd met only this darkening.

"Now that is odd. Normally I don't go talking about my life quandaries, and here you have me spilling my guts." He paused for a moment, a true smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. "Not that I mind, of course, it's just...unusual." He fell silent for a moment as he matched her stride, moving along the seashore in step with her as he gazed out across the ocean front.

"My turn. You, Kyia, can call me Mike. I haven't been called that by someone in a long time, by the way, so feel honored," he grinned. "But anyway. You, Kyia...you are a woman who gives off an air of confidence, but in reality there are times when you feel more alone in a crowd than by yourself, and you're not quite sure what to say to people when the time comes. You haven't dealt with people much in your life, and it's a relatively new skill you're still developing. You think you're doing poorly at it, but you're doing much better than you realize. And lastly, you feel more at home in breeches and a ponytail than ringlets and a ballgown. All that information together I can't help but wonder what kind of life you've lead that would cause such a conglomeration of facts..." He shrugged, and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I won't make you talk about anything you don't want to, I'm not that kind of guy...but I'm fairly open-minded. You'd be surprised the kind of things I can grasp and how good of a listener I can be. I'm very good at picking up details...helped as a skill when I was prefect. If you want to talk about it...or anything, for that matter..." he trailed off, indicating she was welcome to speak to him about anything, and it wouldn't make him uncomfortable.

The real question came on if she'd take him up on it.

[Viskyia Crow]

Viskyia walked on, into the night, with a stride that showed no hesitation. Her mixed blood gave her excellent night vision, and the roar of the sea off on their left gave her a solitary comfort, even sharing the darkness with a stranger. When he spoke about real selves, she turned and gazed up at him. Her lips curved slightly but she shook her head. "If thats true, then Michael, it means we've been running different directions all our lives... for I've been chasing my true identity, rather than trying to hide from it. But I do appreciate the sentiment and see a lot of that around us." She said, lightly jumping over a small piece of driftwood, and idly wondering why her companions' toes weren't yet frozen. And although Viskyia didn't comment about his quote in regards to the wind and sea being one, she glanced out over the water and smiled nonetheless.

"Yes, Demios... has a way of doing that, for all its stormy weather, I discovered a whole new sort of storm here within its arms. The Isle has a magic all its own. I've been chasing myself my whole life, and it was here I think I finally found enough pieces to start putting my life back together. There are really no words for that sort of gratitude, but I feel it. My life before was just one sensation after another unrecognized... like you can't see a single storm cloud in the sky, but you can indeed smell the rain coming." She said thoughtfully, then turned once more to study him. He had a confident tread, but the arrogance was gone. She hadn't minded it, not really, but this man beside her seemed more real somehow, even half-hidden as he was by the darkness.

When he continued speaking, she nodded, then reached out and touched his arm. It was a gesture of connection, one made between a friend to another... a 'I'm here. I do understand....' sort of reassurance. No smile touched her face though, for the mood wasn't made for such things. They were treading deep waters in a shallow world, and Viskyia recognized it immediately. Gently and internally she cautioned herself, and continued on down the beach. The wind played with her hair, giving the loose strands cascading down from the crown of her head a life of their own. Even dressed mundanely in leggings and a thick wool sweater, the woman had an ethereal fragile quality about her that somehow seemed camouflaged in the daylight, hidden behind the tough mask of confidence.

"I've found the unusual here is indeed the usual. You've been gone a long time, Michael, if you have forgotten that." She said, though there wasn't really any critique or judgment in her voice. She did stop though... to a dead standstill when his next words came gently whispered into the night. The half-esh turned to him and stared. She didn't look shocked, not at all, indeed if Michael.. no Mike... had been paying attention at all, he'd seen a nice emotionless expressionless mask drop down over her features and conceal her pale features.

Close. He'd hit absolutely dead on target, and he'd know for a fact that was true by the mask she carefully made of her expression. "I..." She started to say something, perhaps a denial, then she turned and started walking again, as if she just realized she'd halted unintentionally. "Mike I... yes. Just yes. You're right." She finally settled for. It was the truth and nothing less, so she opted for it instead of silence.

"No, life hasn't been easy. Perhaps someday we'll be walking like this and I will tell you a little about it. I can say now that its just another story as pointless as the next sad tale. For me the past never has mattered. I've ran from it, but in the end it is what we make of the future. Thats why I try to hold what isn't important there, and only face what is. And I will tell you something Mike... something that is important. Forces are gathering here, on Demios, for something bigger. Lines are being drawn and people are being offered pathways that hadn't been available before." She didn't look at him as she spoke, which in many ways might have clued him in on how serious she was. "I firmly believe I was brought here to start something.... something above and beyond just opening a resort. That's interesting and exciting, but there's so much unrest in the world, Mike. Here, in Demios, we are going to take a stand and build a future thats a bit more unshakable than most. A day or two, perhaps not even that long, and you will know if I'm speaking something of the truth in your awareness as well. I don't know why you came back, especially now... but I find it not so strange at all. There are no coincidences in Her plan." After she said it, she almost regretted it. But words were like the fluff on the end of a dandelion. Once cast adrift on the breeze, they were near impossible to take back. And so she waited, walking beside him, realizing with each step that they were both a little bit freer together, somehow, than each had been in their solitude.

And that was something... something big. For the half-esh was obsessed with freedom, chafing at any ties or binding words, because a life that was her own was more precious to her than all the gold and silver in the world.

[Michael Poe]

More than anything else, it was her initial comment that caused him to turn and look at her. It was his bad luck that it was at the absolute wrong moment, for as she hopped nimbly over the driftwood, his feet--bare, chilled, and unprotected--found the wood she'd missed. As his foot slammed home into it, stubbing not one but three toes, he hopped up and down for a minute, cursing quietly in a manner that would make many a sailor slap him on the back in pride. After recovering, though, he continued to move forward--limping ever so slightly to walk off the jammed toes--and considered her for a long moment before speaking his response to her words, slowly and drawn out, but fraught with thoughtfulness.

"I suspect, Kyia, that you and your true self have been running in circles after each other then...and that perhaps if you stop a moment and let it catch up, you'll find it quicker than you realize." He turned back to gaze at the moonslit ocean beach, walking slowly. With the gesture of her touch he let his hand rest on hers for a moment, neither suggestive nor distant, simply present and friendly, before consciously rearranging their posture so that her arm rest in his much like a lady and her escort, though their conversation remained friendly but deep.

"Quite right...I'd almost forgotten, as you say. The unusual is the usual...therefore it is what is unusually usual that I should usually be weary of." A fun little play on words to lighten the mood slightly, his step only now returning to normal rather then nursing his slightly injured toes. As her mask dropped in to place, however, he stopped with her, noticing the way in which a veil of gauzy nothingness dropped in front of her previously friendly and lively expression. When she confirmed what he'd deduced from her mannerisms, going on to elucidate a bit more about herself in the act of not telling, he wondered for a moment if he'd been wrong in saying what he had.

No, he decided in the end, he'd done the right thing. She had a lot of acquaintances and even her supposed sisters...but she didn't seem to have many friends. People saw and were content with the surface her that she showed them all, but so few seemed to reach beneath to see what truly lie under the troubled veneer she exposed to all. Everyone needed a friend, he knew, and though he'd seen how close she and Klue had been, he suspected there were things she couldn't share even with him.

It was when she went on to describe the grand design of a mysterious 'Her' that seemed to perturb Mike so much. His thought seemed deep and he lost in them for a long moment as he considered her mention of battle lines drawn and forces gathering...of a war ready to be waged and fought. He'd been gone a long time...why now, when he would happen to encounter this woman who it seemed only recently had come to Demios? Why would he attend a ball he'd normally ignore like all the other festivities he usually blew off? Why would she decide, out of everyone in that room, to come and chat with him? Why would they hit it off so well that she not only offer him a job, but then meet here, afterwards, to have a discussion the likes of which he'd not had in the two plus decades since coming to the Empire?

Could all that truly be chance...or was there a greater force at work, behind even his destiny?

No, he told himself, I create my own fate. The question is...where will the fate I create guide me? Will it be a path paralleled to the one she walks in pursuit of this 'Her'...? Or is this really all coincidence or setup for something grander still?

Finally, after a long, silent moment of continuing to walk, right at the moment where it might threaten to turn uncomfortable, did he speak. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, held no malice nor uncomfortability, but a gentle curiosity.

"Tell me more about Her...and the role I might play in Her plan, if this truly isn't coincidence."

[Viskyia Crow]

The Jeweler was starting to learn not to be surprised, though time and time again she had been. Michael was yet another unexpected twist of fate. As she allowed him to loosely tuck her arm into his, she only provided an anchor for a moment, even as small as she was, for him to stumble and right himself against before they moved on. No comments were forthcoming, because she knew he was human and didn't enjoy the darkening light as well as he could. Someday she'd cut signe, and when she did, she'd make sure he had something to help out his slight racial nightblindness if they were still friends. The thought startled her. No, not that she wanted to cut signe for someone she barely knew.... rather that she ha somewhere decided this arrogant overconfident man... no not that one, but this one... the one her arm was linked through... was a friend. A slow smile crept across her face, as more hair escaped the leather thong at the crown of her head, obscuring her vision before she brushed it away with her free hand.

He thought as they walked. She could tell by the pensive expression on his face. Viskyia admired someone who existed quietly, thinking things over, and not necessarily needing to fill empty silences with sound just to not have to face the world in all its naked truths. But when he finally did speak, it gave her pause. She smiled crookedly, in a way that made her seem even younger, and nodded. "Perhaps you're right. But I fear change, and more than fearing change, I fear she won't be someone I much care for. Thats all." The girl confessed, then looked over at him just in time to see him lighten the mood. She smiled like a bear having dipped a paw in the honeycomb

She laughed lightly and honestly at his word play, and paused a moment to pick up a glimmering slice of sea glass. "You're way with words astonishes me... in a slightly horrifying manner." She said, half teasing. The half-esh tucked it into her pocket and kept moving. They tracked her footprints back up the waterline, and the site of them almost made her laugh. Long strides, shorter ones then, a pause, and off again in long strides. Restless.. she'd been rather restless today, despite the dance, and her already fading tracks gave the fact away. She thought perhaps, looking at the tracks, that Mike was right, in his own strange way. She was chasing herself about, and probably needed to stop doing so.

Every person she met had a lesson for her, and something to share or teach. Perhaps this was his lesson... and she took it to heart.

But, just like the wind shifted and changed, she sensed his mood doing the same. He was thinking again, but not perhaps in the way Viskyia would have guessed. Her indifference dropped off and softened as they continued down the beach. Had she heard his internal dialog, she would have laughed and gently corrected him about her relationship to Klue. She knew the gadgeteer but briefly, however in those short instances of interactions, they'd both made a connection. Demios' most infamous inventor knew more about the half-esh than probably anyone else on the island, at least the facts, and she minded it not at all. He'd never spill her secrets, nor would she his... that was the nature of their friendship, and it was one that Viskyia appreciated wholeheartedly. She hoped, sincerely, that Michael would be another.

But his next question surprised her. She tightened her grip on his arm and looked thoughtful.

"Kaimelea. Her name is Kaimelea." Viskyia said softly. "Her worship is illegal because of the power the Church of Faith has over the world, but I was never one to truly abide by the law, especially laws that make no sense and impress me none whatsoever." Viskyia said, and looked over at Michael before continuing. "She's the Planetar of Dreams, and she keeps bringing people here. First me... My very first night here I was stolen away and forced to confront things I had no desire to face. When I was finished, I knew two things for certain. One was that I lived through the experience and became far stronger because of it. The second truth was that when I awoke, I had markings on my body... one's that represented the same chains I had on my soul. They were gone... just like that." Viskyia took a breath and kept talking, though she thought about each word carefully before speaking, picking and choosing what thoughts to give to him, making sure they were meaningful things, not empty promises or demands.

"It's been like that for others... and we are gathering. I can't speak of their stories, for those are their own to reveal or not. But the pattern is the same... being lost and then being offered a pathway... sometimes many pathways." Viskyia glanced at him, then away. "Mike, I can't know what someone has in mind for someone else. All I can say is what I see. Strength immeasurable. Pride based on confidence, not on arrogance, though it comes across like that. Intelligence, for you think before you speak, and you balance the mood with just enough lightness and darkness. Those are all noble traits. Has she tapped you? I don't know, but listen to your dreams. They will give you all the information you need. Kaimelea is gathering an army, training them, and I'm certain she'll be calling them into use." Viskyia said gently, then she took a deep breath and continued.

"You don't ask easy questions do you?" She mused, almost to herself. "As to a role, I don't know. I think it would be... a gratifying experience to be offered a pathway, regardless if you decided to take it. It's so rare one of them reaches out to us at all. How can you ask me why or the how of it in terms of yourself, when I still can't answer that very question when it comes to me? Just be aware, Michael. It's might not be this instant, or tonight, but keep your eyes open. Stranger things have happened... and if you are here for any of the same reasons I am, I can only assure you that things will get even more extreme before they normalize, ever." The half-esh said, stepping back and gently steering them around a pile of flotsum that looked like old fishnet.

[Michael Poe]

As she spoke once more about herself, and perhaps not liking what she would see, he felt his smile once again slither across his visage.

"Don't worry on it too much, Kyia, there is one constant that holds true, luckily. People can change, however much it's feared, and it isn't always a bad thing. You might not like what you see, but that doesn't mean what you see will forcibly remain that way the rest of your life. If you have the will and the inner strength necessary, you can affect changes in yourself that even you might find startling." He fell quiet once more, keeping stride with her. He hadn't missed the footsteps in the sand...they were things he was naturally trained to pick up on, as a prefect. They were the steps of someone restless, hesitant, and not sure what they wished to find, only that they wished to find something. Another interesting reveal about the woman he was currently escorting. As she commented on his dictation he chuckled softly at her ribbing.

"Then imagine that way with words married to my charming demeanor presented to the people who stand in your way politically. Seems my list of assets to you and your group just keeps growing..." he bantered back light-heartedly. It was odd, really, that he'd find himself so close to this woman already. They were bantering, she'd seen some of his true soul, and he some of hers. They'd met that darkening, and already they seemed comfortable friends together. How unusual, especially for someone such as he who made so few friends...who in the two decades of being here he hardly had a single person he could truly call friend. Until now. He couldn't help but gently wonder if perhaps she was twisting an enchantment on him...but if it was in the company of her and her compatriots he'd seen at the party, he might not mind so much, he admitted. Of course he was male, he'd have thoughts like that every now and then. It hadn't slipped his mind that this beautiful woman was on his arm, making jokes, and delving into his personality as deeply as he into hers. It was just that romance wasn't exactly on his mind at the moment. Not that he didn't find her attractive or think it a possibility, it was just that their conversation, deep as it was, didn't seem like to give way to such tender and gentle thought and action. Again, not that he minded.

As she spoke of this Kaimelea, he considered her words quietly. He did not speak up nor interrupt as she spoke her dialogue--truly such depth and length that it seemed more fitting as a monologue, but she seemed so impassioned that he didn't mind in the slightest.

She spoke of this goddess with such fierce commitment and adoration that he couldn't help but want to know more. This woman, who was thoughtful, friendly, deep, beautiful, and full of character and strength in a way he'd not met in quite some time was so intoxicated by this goddess that she would speak with such eager adoration...it spoke a lot to Michael. He didn't consider her the type to take things lightly or read too much into something. She seemed practical and intelligent...and for her to feel so...

...in a strange way, he couldn't help but feel himself drawn to know more of this goddess, and know more of Viskyia and her love for the goddess. As she described him he did not puff up in pride nor blush bashfully. He seemed accepting of her acknowledgment of his attributes as fact. Neither good nor bad, simply fact. As she reached the end, though, he couldn't help but feel a slight, teasing grin flicker on his face.

"More extreme before they normalize, huh? ...well, fine by me...because here on Demios, we've learned to find the unusual usual, hmm?" It was, in a strange way, a mixture of things. Support for her and what she believed, showing that he didn't think her crazy nor push her away, but embrace her words. A play at their earlier conversation to have a bit more light-heartedness to offset the serious tone that had settled over their conversation. And there was one part that surprised even him. One word he'd used that had caught even him off-guard, that he already was thinking in such terms.

We.

He'd called them 'we'. It might seem minor, but for one who'd felt like an outsider all his life, it was a very odd and important point. That it wasn't until he was here, with this half-Esh worshiper of a heathen goddess--according to the Empire he once served as a lawman for but did no longer--who he already was considering a friend despite knowing her for just one darkening...it wasn't until here and now that he'd ever considered himself part of any 'we'. In all honesty, it frightened a small part of him.

Could it be true that perhaps my fate does indeed intertwine with hers? An interesting thought, and one that remained to be seen.

"My eyes and ears are open, Kyia...and they ever will be...but not just to the possibility that I am here at the will of Kaimelea...but to you, too. If your words are true, you'll be entering a hard time in the near future."

Could I really be doing this?

"And you know..."

Am I crazy?

"...you'll need someone."

I must be.

"Someone to protect you."

But lets see where crazy leads, shall we?

"Someone like a good head of security...oh, I'm sorry...'Special Operations Manager'." He gave her a smile that made one thing very clear. If the position was still open, he'd take it. Not just out of a wish to know more about this goddess...but out of a wish to protect this woman who had, really, become the first friend he'd ever had in this country. He wasn't used to making friends...but when he found them, he was loyal and protected them with his life.

And now he was offering that to her.

I create my own fate.

[Viskyia Crow]

Nychi... the Talon of Kaimelea... walking on the arm of a stranger down a moonless beach in the dark of night after a glittering ball that neither of them had any idea would bring such pathways to a crossroads. She couldn't help but think how odd it was, how surreal, that both of them strangers were strolling along talking about such deep things. It wasn't normal for her, being a guarded person, especially after the spring season, where her emotions had peaked and reseeded just as easily. Some things were worth thought, and others were worth feeling the pain, then discarding it as useless and wasteful. And yet here she was, pacing beside someone she had somewhere along the way decided to admire, and sharing bits of things she normally wouldn't with him. Viskyia wondered if it was because he was so much older, and she had a tendency to look to and trust people who were senior to her in years. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she discarded it. Men weren't made overnight. Who he was had been formed long ago, ten even fifteen years wouldn't change anything except perhaps make her wiser.

Life had done the same to her.

And wisdom dictated that she simply enjoy the journey, wherever it took both of them. Viskyia had learned to take things at face value, not rush them, and to wait with infinite patience because jumping ahead, skipping steps, or shortcutting often lead to disastrous results... even if at times she did crave the pain to make herself feel real. But this wasn't really about her, not here and now. It was about Michael Poe, and the way he walked through the world. A seeker. She saw it with a certainty. Too smart for his own good, curious, and yet demanding no compromises. A smile played across her lips. If he was indeed sent for them, to be with them and watch over them, then yet here again was another blessing. And she didn't even seem to mind his dubious past. They all had pieces of themselves that were darker than light. It was what made him so human, and indeed approachable in her eyes. But he was speaking again, and she lifted her head to listen, tilting it slightly. Certainly, she enjoyed his insight, for she smiled at his words about people changing. "That's very true, for both of us I suspect. And thankfully so, because I make mistakes all the time and discover things about myself I didn't know... some good, most I don't like." She glanced up at him and wondered absently what he thought his great character flaws were. She had quite a few, though she went to great lengths to conceal them or work around their inherent weaknesses.

Then he spoke again, and she laughed outright. Not her soft gentle restrained laugh, but the sort that erupts and owns the moment. "I'd hate to imagine that at all. Demios isn't ready for such a thing.... a lethal combination wrapped up in a single person. I'd go easy, and save it for when you really need it... talking your way out of prison terms with the constabulary for a one last big scheme, or husband's wraths after you've entertained their wives... our political needs should be few and far between. Mostly, we just need Tristan's cooperation and eyes being turned away when we do things for the city despite the city." She wondered if that made any sense. It was the truth, for certain, and although he seemed to think his charm would move mountains, she more suspected it was his subtle discretion that would get them far further.

Waves crashed in the distance as they passed a rocky finger of land that was often exposed to the sky. It was one of Phim's favorite places to come on their walks, for her small dwarven son could pluck creatures from the sea up in his little hands and examine them as if he were a true explorer of other worlds. She smiled softly, then glanced at Michael. Phim crossing her mind had her thinking of the others, and then those thoughts lead to relationships. She held no romantic designs on him. Having seven adopted children tended to take men by surprise and cause them to hesitate. It wasn't that he wasn't good looking, for he was. She found his sharp hawk-like gaze and his roguish features appealing. But looks weren't everything. Even as she walked beside him she could tell he was in good shape and as healthy as they came. Health was important to her, so too were intelligence and an open mindedness she recognized in him but found rare in society. Sharp minds often demanded the presence of tough physiques, and she entertained the notion of taking him as a lover for a moment. Viskyia imagined he'd be a top rate participant, though truth be told she had little interest in such things other than having a passing curiosity for something she had decided just that spring was somewhat inappropriate for her, even though she'd never experienced it. The jeweler was not marriage material and she knew it. She'd always seen herself as more of a safe haven for someone else's roving ways.

Intimacy confused things... at least the physical kind.

This was something else though, and she took it fully for what it was and enjoyed it. Michael was a rare individual, for certain, and one she would make the most of it. Her attention drifted back to him. There was a change in his breathing, and thus a change in his thoughts. He spoke again, after the long silence, and his words struck her immediately. She ran them back through her mind, and examined them as she would a new shipments of raw stone into the shop...

We.

He said we. Citrine eyes widened and a slow smile creped across her face. We. Us. Demios. Home. He knew it, felt it, and understood. By Kaimelea, had she heard that right? Yes... we. He understood. He actually understood. A stunned humbleness washed over her, and for a moment she had to clench her hands from reaching out and ripping at the fabric of the world. The urge was strong suddenly. She wanted to see him on the Dreamscape, to see the doorway world, the space in between and to know how his aura burned. Was it black and smoldering, with fingers reaching out to catch at the unexpected... or was it something more... pure white shaded with gray and twisted with the reality of what it meant to be flawed and human. Had they known each other longer, she would have done it.. passed on through the barrier and left her form standing there beside him exposed. But she dared not... not with a stranger. There would be no one to protect the empty shell she'd leave behind.

And then his next words caused her to pale.

It was as if Her voice was superimposed over the top of his as he spoke. "And you know... you will need someone. Someone to protect you." Gods. Fate slammed the pathways of their beings together and they stood before a signpost that indicated life paths. Viskyia visibly trembled, not being able to say anything at all. Fingers fisted into claws and she could feel her dream form wanting to snap open its wings and scream a challenge, but not to Michael, to the forces that always interlinked the lives of the people, be they willing or otherwise.

Viskyia stood there staring at him for a long time. Her face wasn't judgmental, nor was the mask of indifference in place. Instead, she simply looked stunned. She opened her mouth to speak, found no words, and used the gesture to breath deeply instead. Once, twice, and finally a third time and she was calm enough to actually form a response.

"You said it right the first time. We. Not just someone, not just you. We all need protection and shelter. You are as deserving as I am. But if you want to protect us, provide security, and all that comes with it, you have to let us be what you need as well... whatever that is. Because I've learned we all can't be strong all the times. Sometimes we need a hand up or a quiet ear too. But in the first capacity, I have no doubt you will be the best of them, those that are protectors. As for the last, I equally suspect you will be the worst for such acceptances, for its the hardest thing in the world to realize you can't be infallible all the time. " It was a simple response, forthright, but executed in a gentle non-demanding way. She stated it as if it were fact, not as if she was trying to talk him into anything.

[Michael Poe]

Michael had always seen himself as one who, raised away from the Empire, was an outsider looking in on this strange and peculiar world. And yet here, with this woman, for the first time in his life he felt like he was a participant in his own life rather than an observer. Was this the power fate held? It might be a self-crafted fate, but it was still fate. He'd made his decision--and he firmly believed it was his, not one some goddess had guided him by the hand to reach--and would stand by her as necessary. Perhaps people could change after all.

"We are our own worst critics. When one looks into the mirror, more often than not they do not see the whole, merely the flaws upon the whole. Everyone has flaws, some worse than others--both people and flaws--but part of moving forward is recognizing that the flaws are a part of the whole, and whlie not entirely uncorrectable, still make us who we are." He had many himself. Admittedly, he did have a degree of pride that made it difficult for him to accept help from another. He, like so many others, both desired and feared to see his true self, whatever it might be. At the moment, he was at a loss and full of doubt about who he was and where his life was going, and what he felt was the biggest flaw of all...he was weak. Weak and unskilled. He might speak of acting as security, and protecting others, but truth be told there was a decent probability with the kind of life Kyia had led she could snap him like a twig should she so care. He hated his own weakness.

When she laughed fully and brightly, much as he had at the ball, he couldn't help but smile, just as she had in reply to his laughter. When she spoke he offered up a shrug, false modesty hiding false bravado hiding his own feeling of weakness.

"Something tells me, Kyia, that your cadre of sisters can far better sway Tristan's judgment than I. He values two things, I've learned by watching his behaviors. Himself, and people--women especially--who value him and appreciate him. A well placed word and a shy but inviting flutter of the eyes from one of your sisters and his attentions would focus on her and her alone, forcibly pulling his attention away from whatever else you were hoping to accomplish." He chuckled softly and shrugged.

"Most of the govenrment I can handle. Tristan I cannot, simply because he has no care for me, no matter my attitude. He values women that appreciate him, like so many self-centered men. I'm not sure he'd even care a lick for them as a person so much as a stroking of his ego." In all honesty, such talk had him thinking down such a venue for his own life. Michael's life had led him so many different directions, and truth be told, romance, thus far, had not been one of them. It wasn't to say he hadn't dabbled with women--he was a male and thus held those same urges, admittedly--but he'd simply never found romance. Perhaps it wasn't for him. He didn't much feel like marriage material anyways. He'd be a poor husband. He toyed with the idea of taking Viskyia as a lover, but feared such an action she might regret or find inappropriate. Admittedly, were she open to the concept, and would it not affect their dealings--friends who took comfort in eachother when needed, nothing more or less than that--he wouldn't hesitate in the slightest. But trying such would likly give her the wrong impression, and he was too curious about her and about Kaimelea--and already treasured their friendship too much, considering it was the first such bond he'd formed here--to try such a thing...for now.

He'd realized the importance of his own use of 'we' when he'd spoken next, but as he glanced at her, he realized she did too. Quite the astute one, she was. She'd caught it, and seen something in his words that perhaps he himself did not yet grasp...or did he? Perhaps he too was chasing after himself in a circle, much as he'd described her doing. Perhaps he and she were much more alike than either truly knew, despite their varied appearence, backgrounds, and even fundamental gender. Perhaps, with people like her and he, the only ones that could truly understand and comfort each other were people like themselves...like each other.

As she stared at his him after he'd offered himself to her in such a capacity as protector, he once again couldn't help but feel as though he'd done or said something wrong. A frown furrowed his strong brow as he waited. He said nothing nor interrupted her. He did not jump in when her words would not come out of her opened mouth, he simply waited for her to collect her thoughts and respond. When at last he did, he waited for a long moment, quietly humbled, as he debated on how to reply to such a statement. He couldn't deny that he was indeed fallable; no being yet created didn't hold a degree of fallability to them. Even the gods, vaunted as they were, usually held flaws of their own, so what right did he have to claim to be better even then the gods? When his words came, they were barely a whisper, but yet despite the crashing of the waves seemed thunderously loud to his own ears.

"I am fallable...I know this better than most," he replied, his voice cracking with emotion, "but despite my fallability I will protect you. All of you. No," he paused in realization, looking at her with a strange dawning of understanding in his brown orbs, "All of us. Not only for you, as my friend, but for the others, because of how much they mean to you and to Her." It was strange. Not only calling her his friend out loud, a combination of words he'd not uttered since coming to the Empire, but that he would find himself offering his service to the women and the goddess his friend valued so highly and that he, in turn, already found himself caring about. Not only because it meant her happiness, but because for some reason not even he could possibly fathom, he did honestly care. It was quite the enigma to the man.

"I will be our protector," he replied with a sense of finality, still barely whispering, "And in turn you can be my guide. You might not know it, but even though we recognized that I am lost...I cannot help but feel that wheather you recognize it or not you have helped me find my way, even if just a bit, this darkening."

He didn't realize until that moment exactly how close he'd drawn to Kyia, even if only so she could hear his softspoken reply...the two barely a few inches apart. She was beautiful, she put him at ease, she was intelligent, and she was, in a strange way, a comforting presence. He did not seek romance from her--despite being a romantic, he wasn't sure he'd ever claim romance, as it didn't feel quite fitting--but he was not stupid enough to think that taking physical comfort in eachother was the same thing. Some people might think it ludicrous, but he believed two people could be the very best of friends and find comfort in each other not only with emotional and intellectual intimacy but with physical intimacy as well, and still remain friends without romantic feelings getting involved. He couldn't help but think of such a thing with her, and how ultimately...comfortable it would be.

Realizing he'd remained close to her long after his speaking had finished he pulled away, smiling slightly sheepishly.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds there..." clearly referencing their physical proximity, before speaking again. "But yes...I want to see us all move forward...helping each other where necessary, even if the perhaps being helped doesn't know or like the fact that they need the help."

Perhaps he was being presumptive in including himself in their group verbally...but there was a strange sense of assured knowledge that they would continue forward together. Not a hope, not even a sense of confidience in the possibility. A strangely placed, set-in-stone, knowledge. It was, in point of fact, both comforting and disconcerting at the same time.

[Viskyia Crow]

He started to step away, and her hand reached out and caught his suddenly. Viskyia stood there, silent, for the longest moment, not letting him move backwards as he intended. Her gaze was one of those intense forthright penetrating ones. It gave Michael the impression she was looking at him... into him.. and into the situation just as intensely as he was running thoughts rampant through his own mind. "No." She said softly, firmly, and to an outsider, they might not have understood what she meant. It wasn't a denial of him being close. It wasn't a condemnation of his actions. Rather, it was a rejection of his need to move away. It was a judgment of his sheepishness. Instead, she drew him closer, fingers interlocking with his and pulling him forward until they stood together, breathing almost as one. "You need to understand something, Mike... something important. All of us here... all of us 'know' each other in ways we cannot explain. There is an intimacy between us that makes it very hard to hide the truth of just whats inside you. Never be ashamed to dwell in that intimacy. It's whats going to keep us strong. I know you might not understand this now, but all of us here... we've fought together before. We've laughed and cried as one. If I'm right about why you are here, you will understand this... maybe not now, but it will be so much clearer. Those women at the ball will cease being pretty faces and potential pieces of ass." Her words were somewhat forthright, almost savage, but she spoke with intense conviction. "You'll find you know things about them... about me. I can already see it. Just like I know things about you. I don't trust people. Ever. I'm trusting you. If you stay here, there's going to be a reunion of a sorts, and you will find yourself with five sisters... maybe more before the storm breaks, whatever form that storm takes." It was a unique situation, one that they perhaps couldn't ever duplicate, even if they tried. But there were times Viskyia felt something riding her soul, and this was one of them. This man was important, not just to her, but to all of them, whether he realized it or not. They needed him. She needed him. And all of this was in her eyes.

"And you have a choice of course.... life is filled with them. Though this one is easier than most." Her voice turned light, and she glanced up to the cliff above the sea. A white manor house stood perched there overlooking the expanse of sand. A fenced pasture ran down almost to the beach on one slope... and then he'd note the double doors in the rocks above the high tide mark. It looked like the entrance to a cavern modernized into a front door. "I'm home. You've managed to walk me all the way back. So the choice is simple.... we can call it a night and I can see you at the Crystal Gardens in the morning. Or... you can light a fire in the pit...." She gestured, and though it was low light, he could see two logs forming a V with a firepit dug up in their elbow. It looked like a comfortable place to lounge. "And I can run up to the cavern and grab some wine, a few snacks, and we can spend a bit more time down here. I'd like to ask you about sailing, since you're from Freeport... for I've something on order I might need your advice on." She said, eyes dancing. There was no pressure to her offer. The jeweler would be fine if he was tired and wanted to return home. But she wouldn't be disappointed if he wanted to stay and talk a bit more in the warmth of a bonfire.

[Michael Poe]

As she caught his hand he froze there for a moment, and in that instant, time stopped. Her touch was like electricity as she held him stationary. She was a strong woman, but she was light. He probably could have, with a modicum of success, pulled free if his body would have let him...but for some reason her grip might as well have been stone or steel. He held himself in the middle of being pulled away, and when she pulled him back in he let it happen, their fingers interlocking, until their bodies were pressed together closer still then they had been before. He found his breath matching hers and the pair were breathing in time, truly breathing as one as his eyes found hers, and he felt himself hypnotized by those citrine orbs. He let his head fall; let his forehead press against hers as they stood there so close together that their moonslit shadows merged into one solid and indiscernible figure, and he listened to her quiet words.

For a man such as Michael Poe, with self-confidence abound, he was not used to being the one pulled in; the one being told that it was alright. He didn't want to ruin this friendship, the first one he ever truly formed here, but she was accepting of his desire for closeness with her. As she spoke of not being ashamed to dwell in intimacy, he felt his left hand reach up with the back of his hand and fingers slowly, gently trailed it down from her forehead past her cheek to her chin. It was strange, really, that he felt such a compulsion. There was a tremendous amount of intimacy in the simple touch, and she had told him to embrace it.

"What do you mean, 'before'?" he asked. He was indeed confused; he had no idea exactly what she was alluding to, but he did feel an unusual closeness to her that he knew he normally wouldn't. As she spoke of the other girls a frown creased his face, but not in disbelief, but confusion at how accurate it seemed. There was a strange sense of familiarity with them all, but he couldn't place it...and he hadn't realized it until just now.

"I know you do," he said, not entirely sure as to how he knew, "And you already know that I trust you too. I'm not going to leave. Not now. Not with all this going on..." He felt his breath--both their breaths--quickening for a reason he didn't understand. "And I won't abandon those that are important to me." As she spoke of choices and motioned towards Stormwatch--how did he know it was called Stormwatch? Surely he remembered from some report or another when he was prefect...right?--he listened to her description of the choice he was faced with now, still standing so close to her that anyone might confuse them for lovers. He paused for a moment, appearing to weigh the options, but really, it wasn't a choice at all.

"Come on, Kyia," he answered, slightly teasingly but still with an obvious tone of intimacy, "I'm sure you already know the answer to that..." Still holding her hand in his, he dragged her towards the firepit, and gazed down at it.

"Fire, huh?" he asked, the warm smile again on his face, "Lemme see what I can do. You go grab the wine and snacks." He squeezed her hand before letting her go, turning to find some wood. Once he tracked some down, he set up the pit, kindling at the bottom with some larger logs propped up over the top, and--if it was nearby--used the flint and steel to light the kindling. He nursed it gently, blowing on it when appropriate, until he had a fire that could maintain itself without constant attention before leaning back against one of the logs, waiting for the arrival of his hostess with a grin on his face as he seemed to think his previous words once more with unveiled amusement.

Quite the darkening, he grinned, Wonder what'll come next.

[Viskyia Crow]

Her smile brightened and her grip on his hand loosened up. Viskyia didn't flinch under his touch, rather enjoying it moreso than feeling uncomfortable. She wondered briefly, in the small silent back of her mind, if the rest of the Aestiva was ready for him? The thought made her laugh inside, because she could just about picture the other women's reactions. Adelyn would meet his interest with suspicion and a barrage of intelligent questions. M'caiyah would try to mother him, and would find herself delighted in the project. Jasmyn might try to seduce him, for of all of them she was by the far the most sensuous of them all. Hay'aan... now that would be an interesting reaction. Hay'aan would befriend him and tease all his little secrets free of his tightly guarded self. For all that she was 'reformed' the girl was still an Air'riela and she couldn't help her thieving nature. Viskyia wasn't over judgmental of her apprentice, it was just that of all of them, Hay'aan was the one he wouldn't think twice of and would feel overprotective towards. She herself had found herself spilling secrets to Hay'aan that she'd not tell a soul about.

Family. It was a relentless itch within her that sometimes burned to the point that she'd mutilate herself to scratch it. And Michael standing here calmed the need almost immediately. In fact, when each of the sisters had appeared, it had been the same thing. He was just a big missing chunk. SHe didn't know if it was his masculinity or his confidence, but either way it was wholly welcome.

She laughed as he tugged her to the firepit. Bending, she pulled at the oilcloth hidden in the crook of the two logs and revealed a stash of dry tinder, a flint and steel, and some strips of oiled cloth. It would be all he needed to get started as she gave his hand one last squeeze, and turned to jog lightly up to the cavern entrance. She worked the somewhat complicated lock, and slipped quietly inside. He caught a glimpse of finished walls, lit paper lanterns, that trailed along out of site down a tunnel, and then she was gone.

He was alone for a few minutes. It gave him a chance to think, to clear his head, and re-evaluate the situation. She made sure she took her time, and only returned when she had the supplies she needed. Three blankets and a basket of snacks seemed to be what she fetched until he saw the swinging wineskin over her back. She set the basket and wineskin down on the back of the logs, and spread the larger blanket out in the crook of the two logs, facing the fire. Then she drapped each of the other two blankets over first one log then the other. He realized if they got cold later, they could each wrap up on a blanket just by tugging it around them from where it was already spread. Viskyia sat the basket down, and pulled open the lid even as she settled on the thick blanket.

Bread, cheese, and apples... a stong paring knife to cut them with too. The wine she deposited next to the basket, and picked a spot, kicking off her boots and settling down on the blanket. There was room beside her close in or further away, whichever he choose. She surveyed the fire, smiled appreciatively, and leaned back against the log.

"Its been a long day... I'm glad its winding down after all. And quite honestly, I think I needed a recharge like this. We've all been working too hard on the rev... the Crystal Gardens." She corrected, stretching out one leg then another before digging intot he basket. Michael would find that Viskyia was not hesitant about eating. She burned enough fat during the day with her constant running over these latest projects that she'd actually lost a bit of weight not eating in her quest to get everything done on time. As a consequence she simply fed herself often and wasn't shy about it.

"Tell me about Freeport, and I'll answer some questions about myself for you." She offered, already peeling an apple and offering him a slice delicately captured between her thumb and the long slim blade she was using.

[Michael Poe]

As the human took a few minutes to himself, he let his mind try and come to terms with everything that had happened so far...that in one darkening he could go from one extreme to the other...it bordered on insanity. But insanity was the home of the gods, he supposed, so it made sense in a rather irksome way. Once he had the fire going nicely, the smile still hovering on his face, it turned more private as Viskyia arrived once again with snacks. He stood and moved to help spread the blankets. and as he saw her plop the items down and the ample space close to her, he didn't hesitate to take the spot closest to the woman.

As he settled himself in right next to her, not shying away from the closeness nor bothering to stand on formality, he reached into the basket and pulled out a small hunk of bread. He ripped it in half and offered half to her as he leaned back against the log, enjoying the crackling fire his eyes rested on the dancing flame, his thoughts dancing in a similar pattern upon what she'd just said.

She was hiding something.

Well, not exactly hiding. It was a bit overdramatic to say that she was 'hiding' it. More that she was holding the information close to her until the proper moment presented itself. He knew it wasn't that she was trying to be secretive so much as she wanted to make sure everyone involved was ready for him to know. Because he had a feeling of that, he let her little secret slide.

"Perhaps next time we should invite all our siblings," he responded, finding that, as an only child, it felt strangely comfortable coming out of his mouth for the first time, "Though don't get me wrong...I do quite enjoy the alone time with you, and admittedly hope for more of it in the future." It was not an attempt at a come-on as it might normally had been had their conversation--there entire darkening--not taken the personal turn it had. It was simply a statement of his enjoyment of her company.

"Freeport...wow. There's...a lot to tell. There is never a dull moment in the city. Literally, at any given time, you can find something or another exciting going on. A child's dream to grow up in...and a parent's nightmare to have a child grow up in." He laughed softly and shrugged, accepting the apple offered to him, alternating bites of fruit with bites of bread as he continued his tale of his home. He didn't even thank her, which might seem rude to an outsider, but it was a normally unnoticed sign of how close he considered her, and how informal their relationship.

"People have even given it the nickname, 'the City of Adventure'. Terrible, I know, but what can you do? So as I said, for most it's not an overly pleasant city, but the place is an opportunist's dream. Any vice or sin you have, any needs you need met, any thing you want--legal or otherwise--it can be obtained in Freeport. Capitalist in the truest sense. There is very little noble or planned about the city, but it's not a bad place for a merchant and his family to make a life, so long as they're careful.

"My wit and my attention to detail you so seem to enjoy...both of those were earned on Freeport's streets because either you learned those skills, you were protected by someone who had them, or you perished. I started off protected by my parents until I eventually had a head on my shoulders smart enough to realize what was really going on and start taking care of myself. The government is obviously corrupt--to such a degree that none try and hide it--and there is hardly any law enforcement there, so I grew up in a fairly anarchic environment. In an odd sense, I think the complete lack of law when I was younger was exactly why I cherished the law when I came to the Empire...oddly, I'm rather indifferent towards it now, but at least I understand it and how it can be valued so highly by some, as I used to." He fell quiet, realizing he was babbling. He didn't mind talking about himself and his past with Kyia, but he didn't wish to dominate the conversation overmuch.

"You're turn," he responded, looking over at her, "Tell me about what it was that made you the way you are...what you were so hesitant to share before we understood each other as well as we now do...hardly a candlemark later." He chuckled at the insanity of the comment, but there was nothing false contained within. Before they were pleasant. Now they were intimate. Quite the difference.