Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history ~ Rakhash

[Ashari]

Samheen 18th Morningtide

The sun had already risen over the horizon by the time Lianelle rolled over and nudged Rakhash to awake. Her smooth face was just inches from his own. "G`morning." She cooed and then blinked a few times, her fluffy lashes blotting out the dark irises for a flicker. The princess's light hand was resting on the young man's shoulder and for a burn she just let it sit there, unmoving as her friend returned from the world of dreams. Finally she lifted it however, and rubbed her eyes as she sat up and stretched. "Another day..."

Glancing over she winked. "I wonder if Yabal'll ever give you a day off. Then you could really show me around the city. We could make a day of it, not worry about all the things with Nashreen or the Rafao, or anything at all except where to get lunch." The girl flashed a beaming smile. "I dunno, I was just thinking it could be fun." She shrugged, becoming slightly self-confident about the idea. "Oh, maybe I could meet your parents! That would be fun, do you have siblings?" She asked. For first thing in the morning she was chipper and full of energy, unusual, generally she preferred to stay in bed after he left.

"You could show me where you are from. That way we will be even, because eventually we will end up in Nashreen, and when we do you will see where I'm from. Only fair." Lianelle leaned back on her elbows and looked at her companion. "Unless you are too ashamed of me..." She bit her lip and feigned a look of hurt. It was almost convincing, had she not been gushing flickers before it might've been more-so. The girl was using every ounce of strength possible to not crack a smile, her eyes glancing up at him pleadingly all full of warmth. She even added in a quick sniff of her nose as if she were holding in tears.

OOC: Title quote: Plato

[Guest]

Rakhash pried his eyes open slowly as Lianelle wrested him from his dreams with her touch. Letting out a loud groan, he stretched out, forcing the last remaining bastions of sleep to seep away, and firmly situating himself in the waking world. Glancing at his friend as she rubbed her eyes, and mirrored him in stretching, the young man smiled. “Good morning,” he replied, sliding himself up to sit. He let out a long yawn, before working his neck in a small circle to heal any aches the long lack of motion that accompanies sleep had provided him with.

As Lianelle winked at him, and inquired about whether or not Yabal was going to give him a day off, Rakhash chuckled. The notion seemed unlikely, given that he was earning his stay in this place every night. Glancing around the room, he once again re-affirmed that what he received was worth the amount of work he did, especially now given that it was located near the only source of information he had on the Nashreen situation at the present time. The work may have been tedious, but there seemed little other option until the situation was resolved.

Bringing up the prospect of showing her the city, Lianelle caused Rakhash to raise his eyebrows in surprise. That she was feeling good enough to want to actually go and sight-see was a shock in and of itself, but the fact that she wanted him to show her around was even more so. Up until that point in time, everything they did together seemed to fall under the shadow of their circumstances, be encompassed by the task before them. Her suggestion made everything seem less urgent, and added a sense of permanency and reality to their fledgling friendship.

Rakhash’s surprise faded into a friendly smile as his companion spoke of meeting his parents. As she feigned hurt, and asked about him being ashamed of her, he burst out laughing at the good-natured jest. “Have you ever considered performing Lianelle? Acting? I think you’d be quite good at it,” he grinned at her sheepishly, then shrugged. “But yeah, I have no doubt that my parents would like you, and I think it would be fun to go show you some of the city. The part I lived in isn’t as…well…wealthy, as this area, but I suppose it has its qualities. It’s home, for one thing.” His eyes seemed to take on a distant quality as he reminisced about some of the times he had spent in his home with his family. Shaking off the nostalgia, however, he seemed to take in Lianelle’s beautiful form all over again. “As for siblings, no, I don’t have any.” Silently, Rakhash seemed reminded about his ignorance concerning Lianelle’s life. “What about you?”

[Ashari]

As soon as Rakhash began laughing Lianelle couldn't contain herself and burst forth a torrent of bubbly giggles. "No fair! You made me laugh!" She playfully pushed him and then sat up. "Wealthy or not I still want to see it. If it's where you came from then I'm interested." The young woman was definately sincere. "When we go downstairs we can ask Yabal if he is having you work all day or if I might steal you away for a bit." A bright smile flashed across her face.

"Nope, no siblings for me either. After my mother died papa couldn't bare to marry again." She shrugged losely. "So it's just me." Lianelle looked over to him. "Odd ones out. Almost everyone I've ever met has plenty of siblings. How come your parents only had you? Do you know?"

Lianelle really did want to see the city. Especially where her friend was from. She wondered how different of a life he had growing up. Every man she had ever met had a similar lifestyle as she. The only people she knew who were of a lower financial rung of society were her maids, but they were women, and actually lived in their home, so they were better off than others.

Still listenening to her friend Lianelle stood from her spot and began fixing the bed. With her hands she motioned for him to stand up as well so she could pull the blankets. It was strange for her, until a few days ago she had never had to make her own bed, although she had helped her servants do it many mornings. She supposed that was for the better or she wouldn't know how to do it now.

[Guest]

Rakhash smiled sincerely at his friend professed her unwavering desire to see his home. “Well alright then,” he replied softly, shaking his head as if in some kind of profound amazement with the young woman. At times, Lianelle’s seemingly strange interest in his life was quite refreshing, some primal social need fulfilled each time the beautiful woman asked him a question about himself. This wasn’t something that Rakhash attributed to his ego, but rather he felt comforted by the fact that someone besides his family members and himself might be interested in him. Realizing that he had someone he could communicate with on a level like the one he shared with Lianelle, as a friend, was a great burden off his shoulders. As Rakhash continued to tear down the walls he had built up over the years, and let someone like his new friend into his life, he found himself more and more in awe at how much it changed the way he felt so immensely.

As Lianelle voiced the question of why he had no siblings, Rakhash furrowed his brow in thought. “Honestly,” he replied, “I never asked. It was just the way things were.” Shrugging, the young man more deeply considered the issue. “If I had to guess, I suppose it would probably be because of the family situation. They put everything they could spare into me…putting the future of the family on my shoulders, I suppose. Sometimes my parents and I had to save to keep food on the table, but we managed. Another child might have been too much to handle.” Rakhash looked somber as he stared at the bed covers. “In fact, a lot of the families around my neighbourhood had only one child.” Silence ensued for a moment, but the young man turned to his friend suddenly and smiled warmly. “I guess that’s just another difference between the place you grew up, and the place I did.”

The young woman motioned Rakhash to stand, so he nodded, placed his feet on the ground, and stood. The after-effects of a good night’s sleep still weighed down on him, and he felt somewhat weary, forcing himself from the comfortable bed. Yawning, he leaned forward and grasped the other end of the sheet to help Lianelle fix it up. Unlike his friend, Rakhash found nothing new or exciting about making a bed, its routine one well known to him throughout his adolescence. As they finished tidying up the sleeping area, the young man worked his shoulders, trying to excise the aces and stiffness he felt there.

The prospect of a day off was a welcome one for him, having worked every day since arriving at the inn. Whether or not Yabal was feeling lenient that day, however, Rakhash was prepared to face a new day. Sighing, he turned to the door, and then back the Lianelle, offering her a friendly smile. “Well,” he began, “shall we go talk to Yabal then?”

[Ashari]

"I guess it is just another difference." She said and smiled as they pulled the sheet and then the heavy blanket back to their respective spots. Lianelle had heard of hunger, of not having enough to support one's family, but she had never known anyone who had suffered because of it. It was the way she was protected, shielded, from such things in their village. The princess was blissfully unaware of occurances of starvation following a bad crop year.

"Yes, we shall." Lianelle grinned broadly and followed after her friend out the door and into the hallway. Down the metal stairs the pair clashed and clanged before arriving in the common room where Yabal was barking out orders. He seemed to be in a mood, and not a good one. "Rakhash..." Lianelle whispered. "He looks kind of angry."

Maybe angry wasn't the best description as the barkeep ordered the waitstaff around like slaves. The obnoxious waiter, who Rakhash had become aquainted with because of the fight he inspired, seemed to be getting the rawest treatment. "You there!" He hollared at the obstinent fellow. "Get out back and clean out the gutters. I'll not have this place smelling of shit from people and animals alike." Yabal paused a flicker and the young man just stared at him blankly. "Get on then!" With that the waiter scurried out of the room into the back lot.

All of the vested young men were bustling about with mops in hand and cleaning every bit of the common room. Turning around, Yabal caught sight of Rakhash and Lianelle. He sighed and then walked over to the bar, leaving them in the center of the busy workers. There was a sad sort of look in his eyes, deep beneath the surface of his commanding sterness. Lianelle wore a confused look over her face. "What do you think's wrong?"

[Guest]

Rakhash stepped down the stairs and into the flurry of commotion coursing through the main hall. Gazing about quizzically, his friend at his side, the young man silently wondered what the reason behind the scene before him could possibly be. As he noted Yabal coming down on the snotty water he had had the displeasure of meeting before-hand, Rakhash found the satisfaction he should have felt smothered out by the inaudible question lingering in the air. “Yes,” he replied to his friend’s comment, “he does look angry.”

Finding his eyes meeting Yabal’s, Rakhash furrowed his brow in consternation. What could be angering the barkeep in such a manner? As the inn’s large proprietor looked up at him and his friend, the sadness in eyes openly apparent beneath his stern demeanor, Rakhash felt a pang of worry built up inside of himself as well. The way he had stared towards them…

What if his aggravation had something to do with their situation? What if it was bad news? Clenching his fists, Rakhash swallowed, and forced the rapidly rising frustration within him to settle. He absolutely refused to allow premature pessimism rule his actions. Really, there was no basis for such an assumption, and no reason to believe that Yabal was acting under the pressures of anything save a bad morning. “Maybe his day’s just off to a bad start?” he said quietly, distracted by his own contemplation of the situation. “I’ll go find out.”

Rakhash wove his way through the crowd amassed before him, his focus on the innkeeper. Pausing several times to allow a gap in the milling workers large enough for his large frame to get through, he finally found himself standing before the bar. He rested his arms against the smooth counter, his palms pressed against its surface. Gazing intently towards Yabal, he exhaled slowly. “What’s wrong?” He asked, simply, “You look as though you’re hiding something sorrowful behind that loud roar you have.” He smiled in as friendly a manner as he could muster, given the situation.

[Ashari]

"Maybe..." Lianelle said. "I'll go talk to Hishran, see what I can get out of him." She replied and then left his side to go search out the lizard-like chef.

There was a wake behind Yabal, his employees quickly moved out of his way, perhaps because they feared his flowing sands style martial arts, which but a few had actually seen in action, the tales told among the waiters was enough to frighten those who hadn't witnessed it themselves. So, it was a fairly easy task to follow behind the barkeep. Once at the counter Rakhash found himself alone with the owner, everyone else trying to keep to themselves. There was only the sound of scrubbing and movement of chairs, no spoken words aside from those that just spilled from the young man's lips.

"You do not yet know sorrow, boy." Yabal said, a deep burning sizzle clung to his tone. He wasn't nearly as short with Rakhash as he had been with anyone else all morning, however, and the other staff quickly realized that. A slight level of envy rose among those present, some having worked there for several seasons and were still treated like easily replaceable knick-knacks.

Leaning forward on the bar, Yabal grabbed the collar of Rakhash's shirt and pulled him over the counter. His head tilted to the side and his dark eyes gleamed. A hoarse whisper, one not even the closest of the waiters could make out, ensued. "Take her for the day, be back by tradetide. I'll have news then." He then dropped the young man, and his ribs were the first thing to make contact with the counter before he would be able to catch himself, luckily the wind wasn't knocked from his lungs. Instead a dull roaring pain shot through his torso.

"GET ON THEN!" He roared sternly. Maybe it was all for show, maybe he just wanted the pair out of the tavern, either way his voice was strong and full of passion. Silently he turned away and picked up a glass to clean it. There was a sound of a snap as his strong grasp cracked the piece. Frustration mounting, he threw the mead glass out into the common room where it shattered. "Clean that up!" He sighed out through his nose and flexed his fingers before picking up another glass.

The feelings of jealousy felt by the waitstaff only flickers before were replaced with appreciation they hadn't been the one just yanked off their feet by the strong barkeep. Quietly they continued their work in awe, waiting for Rakhash to run out of the establishment like the others had that morning. Yabal had chased of several other employees already, and morningtide had just begun.

[Guest]

Rakhash’s smile slid from his face abruptly as his feet left their position firmly on the ground. The surprise he felt at suddenly being in the air projected onto his facial features, however almost as quickly as they had formed in that manner, they changed once more. Momentary surprise at being caught off guard was replaced with rising anger, and for a few flickers clenching his fists with an increasing intensity was all he could do to keep his rapidly overpowering emotions in check. He was getting better at keeping his temper under control, but many things still managed to set the young man off with quite a high amount of proficiency. Open hostility, surely, was not something Rakhash was about to take in stride.

Silence was his initial response, however. Angry as Rakhash may have been, Yabal’s strange behaviour was enough to instill the man’s inquisitive side with a curiosity that strengthened his command over his emotions. Instead of allowing an outburst, the young man met the barkeep’s gaze with his own, smoldering rage more than apparent behind his obviously forced, calm appearance. As Yabal spoke of news, Rakhash found himself immediately wondering at the circumstances behind today’s odd situation once more. Whatever it was that he was going to hear of at tradetide, it had better be of some grand import for such behaviour to be considered at all justifiable where civilized men were concerned.

His inner tirade and examination of the situation, however, was interrupted as the counter made contact with his ribs. A grunt issued from Rakhash’s mouth as his features contorted with pain. Placing his hands firmly on the bar, he pushed himself up, and hid any expression of pain that had been there only moments before. Slowly, and with a deliberate amount of calmness, he smoothed out his shirt, and once again met Yabal’s gaze. He allowed the large man’s roar to affect him in no visible way, instead, only responding with the same, angry gaze that had been plastered on his face for the duration of their meeting. “Expect me at tradetide then,” he said in a quiet, firm voice.

Rakhash worked his shoulders absently, then made for the door to the kitchen, all the while ignoring the roaring pain inflicted upon him by Yabal’s bar. He refused to show any sign of his discomfort, to give Yabal the satisfaction of knowing that his currently inexplicable anger was the source of any strife on his part. Perhaps, given the relationship between he and the man, attempting to spite or anger the proprietor of the inn was an unwise decision, however his awkward sense of inner pride disallowed any show of weakness at that point in time. Continuing to ignore the pain, the sound of crashing glass and Yabal’s discordant roar, and the expectant gazes of the rest of the inn’s employees, Rakhash pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen.

[Ashari]

As Rakhash chose the kitchen over exiting post haste, the other employees were baffled. Inside the kitchen Lianelle stared wide eyed, she halted infront of the door. "I was just going out into the common room, I heard Yabal yelling." She looked at her friend. "Are you alright? You look like you might explode." Hesitantly she reached out and put her hand above his elbow.

"Hishran told me that he was having some trouble this morning, with..." She looked at the chef, "With some of his contacts. I guess it's my fault for having dragged him into this whole mess." The young woman sighed and looked down at the immaculately clean floor. "Am I to put such a burden on everyone I meet? Perhaps it would be better I not meet your parents, who knows what might come of them." Lianelle retracted her hand and crossed her arms over her chest while leaning against one of the counters.

The chef, wearing bright white, watched the play between the couple before piping in: "He does this sometimes. No need to worry. The ones he fires will come back, it just may take a few days." He shrugged and then turned to the oven to check on some bread that was cooking. From the common room came a bellow:

"HISHRAN! Get out here!" Yabal beckoned.

"That would be me." He slowly walked across the kitchen, then reached up to take his glasses off his face and carefully place them on a shelf. Minus his spectacles he wasn't such an odd looking fellow, if anything he might've been handsome in his younger days. "Wish me luck?" His eyebrows raised slightly.

Lianelle quickly piped in. "Good luck," along with a smile, and then the cook left their company. "So.. did he say anything to you, let on to what exactly got him all hot and bothered?" She asked innocently.

[Guest]

Upon exiting the scene in the main hall, and sighting Lianelle in the kitchen, Rakhash immediately felt his burst of anger begin to subside. “I’m absolutely fine,” he replied to her question quickly, flashing her a smile that was obviously forced. In his eyes, rage still smoldered, and there was little Rakhash could do to contain that quality of his physical features. Exhaling a long breath as the young woman placed a hand on his arm, the angered young man sighed, and gazed directly into her eyes.

As Lianelle voiced her direction of blame at herself, Rakhash felt a spike of annoyance pierce the rolling sea of rage already welling up inside of him. “Don’t blame yourself,” he said simply, his voice low to the point of almost being a growl, “I’m sure Hishran doesn’t, and whatever is stuck up Yabal’s ass certainly isn’t any doing of yours. As for my parents… I would very much like you to meet them, and there is no amount of fear-mongering you can do that could possibly change my mind on that point.”

The chef and apparent master of the immaculate domain in which Rakhash and Lianelle now stood made to leave, removing his spectacles, and with them, a measure of his strange appearance. “Good luck,” Rakhash replied after Lianelle, his voice in the same low, angry tone.

The young man turned his focus back to his friend as Hishran exited the room, and again tried to force a convincing smile on to his face. “No,” he said, straining to soften his voice and make less apparent his oh-so-obvious anger. “Yabal told me to be back by Tradetide for some news, though, so it looks like maybe we will have some free time on our hands, if not the entire day. Given the circumstances, is there anything you’d like very much to do around the city before we’re supposed to be back here?” Rakhash raised his eyebrows quizzically, and awaited an answer from the beautiful princess before him.

[Ashari]

Absolutely fine... riiiiiight. His attempted smile hardly covered up the anger in his eyes, which was where Lianelle was looking. Silently she listened to him tell her it wasn't her fault. Really, she knew this. Intellectually she knew she didn't cause these things, but emotionally, well, that as another matter all together. She noted something other than anger in his tone though. Annoyance? That started her mind. Well, no more of that then, can't be blaming myself or I'm annoying. She just assumed it was because of her that he was annoyed.

"Then we'll be sure to be back by Tradetide then, ok?" Lianelle grinned. "You're getting your day off! Cheer up, hmm?" She hugged him and then pulled away with her hand wrapped around his. "Let's go out the back, eh? I don't think we want to spend any more time around Yabal and his flying glasses then we need to. Hope Hishran can handle it." She paused. "He's probably used to it though, don't you think?" Lianelle nodded.

"Come on." The small woman started walking and dragged Rakhash right along with her out the back door. Once outside she turned to him. "Ok, well, that's about as far as I know how to get." A small giggle escaped her lips. "I don't really know what I want to do. I don't know what there is to do." She shrugged. "What did you used to do? You know, before me and all this." Her hand that wasn't attached to Rakhash motioned around them, specifically to the tavern only meters away.

[Guest]

Rakhash began to nod somberly in agreement, however his features in no way showed that he was making any effort to cheer up at all. Instead, his angry expression seemed beset by a deep determination not to let his anger take control, and in a strange way it only added to the fierce look he was giving off at that point in time. His inner turmoil was interrupted, however, as Lianelle wrapped her arms around him in a friendly manner. Thoughts of Yabal and his infuriating behaviour fled before the young woman’s embrace, and as Rakhash was forced to deal with her close proximity, he found that even anger, and emotion so strong within him, lacked the strength to deal with such a thing.

A look of surprise flashed across the young man’s face, before that too gave way to a small smile, and a disbelieving shake of his head. Truly, he would never have predicted that having such a friend would be able to have such an effect on his emotions. Maybe it was his masculine personality responding to the presence of a female, or maybe it was just the fact that he had a close companion to share in his life as he had never had before, but whatever it was, it had the man developing a tighter control on his emotions, and feeling a little more secure about life, despite volatile circumstances.

The desert princess’s arms withdrew from around his sides, and grasped his hand. A small chuckle escaped as Lianelle uttered her lack of taste for the situation with Yabal. “Yes, I’m sure Hishran will be fine,” he said, his voice lighter and less angry than before. As the young woman led him out the back door, and turned to him, Rakhash flashed her a smile that was more indicative of his true emotions than before. “What I used to do…well…I worked. Or read and studied. As I said, I didn’t have many friends to hang around, and I didn’t really have all that much free time to roam about, or indeed, very much of a reason to,” he replied. He shrugged absently, as if it were just a fact he had gotten used to.

“Why don’t we just worry about getting something to eat. It’ll be a nice change from the food Hishran makes, as good as it is,” he said, still smiling. Absently, he looked to the main street, wondering where the two of them could grab a bite to eat. A small grumble in his stomach told him that his body agreed with his suggestion. Looking at Lianelle once more, he awaited a response in silence.

[Ashari]

"I bet you had all kinds of fun and you're just holding out on me!" Lianelle giggled and then started walking toward the street, her hand still tightly wrapped around his.

"Alright, food sounds good. I love Hishran's stew... but there are only so many times one can eat it." She flashed a bright smile toward her companion but continued walking to the street.

Busily merchants hustled past Yabal's tavern as they went about their work, setting up their vending spots and displaying the goods they had for sale. Most were still in the preparation stage, but it only took a few burns to get everything ready for the early shoppers.

"So where do you suggest?" Lianelle asked.

There were a few places one could eat in Abu`Sahir, excluding The Golden Ram. There was another tavern, appropriately dubbed the Bad Omen, generally visited by clientel of a lower social rung than Yabal's - slaves and convicts. Not necessarily the most respected of places, especially for a princess. Sandstorm Cafe was a bakery with some seating available, though most that ate the pastries took their meal on the run. Many stalls sold food items, including roasted goat and camel meat, but they didn't open until later in the day. Dried fruits were also commonly sold alongside the raw food vendors selling items for cooking by families. A specialty shop further down the Foreigner's Court sold cactus fruits and juices.

[Guest]

Rakhash chuckled softly in response to Lianelle’s playful chide, and grinned widely. Suddenly free of the oppressive atmosphere inside the inn, the young man already felt much more relaxed and free of stress. Indeed, being free to do something perhaps enjoyable with his new friend, rather than something wrapped tightly in the requirements of their situation left the young man feeling in a good mood that contrasted starkly with what he had felt inside the Golden Ram.

The enjoyable freedom he felt, however, was immediately overshadowed by another dilemma. Where, oh where, would he take the beautiful young woman accompanying him to eat? Certainly, there were a number of options, but as far as food went Rakhash had never eaten anywhere except his home, and a few of the stalls common to the city that sold various meats and other meals. None of the stalls were open so early in the day, and even if they were, was that the kind of place a Princess would enjoy a meal from? Perhaps she would make an exception in this case, but that was no chance Rakhash felt like taking.

Sighing, he shrugged absently. “Well,” he said slowly, then paused in thought. “We could try the bakery. Of all the places I can think of at the moment, that might be the most suitable for a nice breakfast.” Smiling her a friendly smile, he shrugged again as if to accentuate his lack of sureness. “Of course, if you’d rather we went some place else, I’m fine with that.”

Gazing towards her expectantly, he stretched his neck to work out some of the morning stiffness that still resided within him. Still smiling, he awaited a response.

[Ashari]

"A bakery sounds perfect for breakfast." Lianelle smiled and let him lead her toward the Sandstorm Cafe, which was seeing a good deal of business that morning as people passed through on their early errands. Several tables were still open. One was tucked in a corner and another over by an open window. "How about some privacy?" The princess lifted her chin and motioned toward the table in the secluded spot.

There was an edge of nervousness around Lianelle, as if she were buzzing internally with something that wasn't necessarily definable. Part of it had to do with how fun it was to go out and do whatever the pair wanted, something obviously neither had been able to do. They had both been trapped in their respected lives, and now were free, but it came at a price. Lianelle's price had been the mounting fear that her attacker would show up at any burn and try to kidnap her again.

Her small hand held tightly in Rakhash's, afraid to let him go. Yabal had been cryptic when speaking with the young man earlier, something had been eating away at him. Perhaps the princess sensed the unease that clung to Rakhash.

Written in chalk behind the counter was a list of the daily specials, plus there were the everday favorites one would know from going there often which weren't written. Neatly looped cursive announced: Moonladies, rasperry torts, strawberry torts, glazed breads, savory celery loaf and pumpkin bread. "Rasperry tort sounds good." Lianelle said and plastered on a smile and tried to not look over her shoulder too much. She waited to hear what Rakhash thought.

OOC: Moonladies are Tazlurian croissants.

[Guest]

EDIT: OOC:

Yipes. Again, I lost track of just how long this post was getting. As with all the times this has occured before, I'm sorry, and the regular offer for me to rewrite and scale back the longwinded mess is there if you choose to accept it .

IC:


Rakhash led the young woman through the streets of the city he had grown up in, finding many parts of it as foreign as she did. The area directly around the inn, again, stood out in stark contrast to the setting in which he had grown up. The roads and avenues were more carefully maintained than the places he was used to and the patrons of the various establishments were clearly of better status (according to those in power, at least) than those in the places around his home. Somehow, despite the fact that he knew he looked for the most part no different than the people surrounding him and his friend, he felt a lack of any belonging amongst these people.

The young man found himself, once again, feeling like some piece in a vast game as the crowds of people coursed past the pair. Even spending free time with his friend, and the clear and uplifting emotions such an event brought with it, could not wipe his mind of the worries surrounding them, and the events that were in motion at that very moment that could determine the fate of them both. It seemed as though Yabal had given him a gift with this temporary freedom from responsibility, but did it with bitterness within, lacing the gesture with uncertainty and doubt crafted easily with a pair of vulnerable youth and a few words. With a shocking absence of surprise, Rakhash wondered at how many of the people around them played at games of their own, fit into puzzles cut by the highest powers in the land.

As with most of those in the city, he presumed, Rakhash had struck out on his own to pursue money, power, and a prestigious life of his own. Now, finding even the most mundane of events in his life crushed beneath the weight of some power struggle he knew little about, he questioned his own previously infallible reasoning. Power was something to strive for, for with power over others comes a unique power over one’s own life that can not be created in any other manner. Was the attainment of such a thing worth the price paid by others, though? Given his perspective from the other side of such a campaign for control, as one being subjected, rather than subjecting, he wasn’t so sure. The gains he sought were different in real-world application than the Rafao’s, surely, but power is a term only applicable to a relation between multiple beings, subjects, or forces. To gain power, would be to put himself above others. It seemed a long shot that any such pursuit could be beneficial to all parties involved, and devoid of any conflicts like the one Rakhash found himself wrapped up in.

No, the tyrant ruling this land pursues power through the force of his will and the arms of his men. There are other avenues, surely. Glancing at his friend with compassion in his eyes, he smiled slightly. I would not could not, do anything so malicious and lacking in empathy. Especially not to someone like her…

Grimacing, Rakhash shook his head as if to clear it of his situational inspection, his baneful over-analysis of a situation that, to be stated in the simplest of terms, was out of his control at the moment. Noting for the first time how tightly Lianelle clung to his hand, the young man considered that he probably not the only one worrying about the unknown. As the Sandstorm Café came into view, he turned to the beautiful princess behind him and smiled comfortingly, squeezing her hand back slightly as if to show her that he knew how she was feeling, even if he didn’t entirely.

As the pair sat down at the table in the corner, Rakhash perused the list of daily specials intently, trying to focus on the task at hand, rather than let himself be caught up in his worries yet again. Glancing towards the young woman, he nodded with a smile. “Yes, that does sound quite good.” Turning back to the menu, he smirked. “I think I might have the same,” he replied, just as his stomach rumbled as if in assent for his decision.

The smile that had been on his face since sitting at the table with his friend faded after a moment, as he turned to look Lianelle in the eyes. “Umm… are you alright?” he asked softly. Her somewhat forced smile and her lack of security in the situation were not easily hidden from one who had done or experienced either on a regular basis. “I know you’re worried…but nothing concerning your captor is going to happen in so public a place.” Gazing at the table thoughtfully for a moment, he shrugged. “Still, if you aren’t feeling good about this, I can take you somewhere else. Maybe back to the inn? I’m sure Yabal wouldn’t mind if we just waited in our room for a while. Might not be the most fun way to spend some free time, but if it makes you feel better, it’s worth it.” Smiling once again, this time in a manner he hoped was comforting, he looked back up at her, and awaited a response.

[Ashari]

OOC: Ha! As if I would ever accept such an offer. Pfft.

IC:

A waitress, dressed in a light pink dress with embroidered flowers along the hem, quickly came over to the corner table and smiled. She broke up Rakhash's question, not giving Lianelle time to respond to it. "G'mornin. Aren't the two of ye just the cutest couple I've seen come in all day!" She grinned. She was a pretty girl, still young, maybe 15 yahren, no doubt caught up in the romance of life around her because of her age.

The princess blushed at the comment, but didn't correct her, maybe because she thought it would be rude. "Good morning to you as well. We were thinking raspberry tort sounded very good." Her dark eyes met those of the waitress and then the girl jotted it down on a scrap piece of parchment. "Oh, and, tea?" She looked at Rakhash. "Mint tea." Lianelle had brought it up to him before and he had drank it, so she assumed it would be good enough.

Smiling the waitress nodded. "Oh yes, the raspberry tort is very good. You'll love it. Alright, I'll be back in just a flicker." And then she turned to take an order from another table, leaving Lianelle and Rakhash in their peaceful solitude once again.

Lianelle looked over to Rakhash. "Yes.. I'm alright." She finally responded. "I'm just a little nervous, but really, I've got to get over it. I can't just hide in the Golden Ram forever." The beautiful young woman sighed. "I just wish life could go back to normal, sometimes. But then, I think about it, and if my life had never changed then I wouldn't have met you. So.. there is reason everything happens. Right?"

As promised the waitress returned with their food and drinks quickly. "Here ya go." She grinned and placed the delicate pastries on the table as well as a small kettle of water with leaves steeping and two cups. "Just give the tea a burn and it'll be all set for ye. If ya need anything else just wave me over, ok?" Lianelle nodded.

Hungry and thirsty Lianelle quickly dug into what was before her and poured tea for both herself and Rakhash. The torts were sweet, but also holding the underlying sour tones of the raspberry. Crisp layers of thin pastry were filled with the fruit mixture and then drizzled with a thin sugar. The tea was refreshing and strong. Excellent to wake up with. When she finished her food, and had gotten the seeds from between her teeth by means of her tongue, Lianelle sat back. "That.. that was good." She said and smiled. "Now what? You must've done something as a kid. Escaped to the waterfront or down to the fields?"

[Guest]

As the voice of the young waitress broke into his, shattering the clarity of his message, Rakhash was forced to pause and glance up at the girl who had interrupted him. Smoothing down the momentary spike of surprise and annoyance, Rakhash smiled. Her words, however, made him want to hide his smile, as he began to feel all the inward signs associated with an oh-so-common crimson hue on his face. A reflexive, defensive response almost sprang from his throat, but he caught it before it escaped, refusing to interrupt his new friend as she responded. The deep red Rakhash’s face had turned went darker as the beautiful princess refused to even mention the waitress’s error, and he let out an audible breath as he sat back in his chair and allowed her to continue on unopposed.

Momentary discomfort fell to the side and out of notice as the conversation continued on, and a noticeably cooler young man nodded as Lianelle’s gaze met his. He smiled slightly, and then shrugged to signify his lack of clear opinion on her selection of tea. Tea was tea, insofar as he was concerned, and whatever kind his friend selected would have been absolutely fine in his opinion. More than that, however, he was simply relieved that his outburst had been stopped before it began, and the topic was on to matters more fitting for the situation.

Rakhash’s eyes followed the young waitress for a few flickers as she wandered over to cater to the needs of another table of patrons, before turning back to Lianelle. As she confirmed that she was all right he smiled with relief and compassion. “I’m glad,” he said softly. His smile took on a nervous position as the young woman commented on being glad to have met him, forcing him to address a positive comment about himself – something he had a definite lack of experience in. Pausing, and glancing at the table for a moment to escape Lianelle’s gaze, he shrugged. “Right, I suppose,” he replied, meeting her eyes once more. “I have to admit, as selfish as it seems even to me, that some part of me is glad that this happened, because I got to meet you. Not, of course, that I’d wish harm on your home, family, and you, for my own gain…not that… I just mean that, well, despite all the negatives, I’m glad I managed to pull such a positive out of it, you know?” He shrugged, as if unsure what more to say, or if his words were correct, then furrowed his brow and bit his lower lip as he stared around the room in deep thought.

The waitress returned with their meal in hand, and Rakhash thanked her with a friendly smile. “Thank you,” he said to Lianelle, as she poured him a cup of tea. Almost as quickly as the young woman before him, Rakhash found himself devouring the food on his plate, noticeably placating his hunger. It was delicious, to be sure, and as the last of the tort slid down his throat, he grinned. He emptied the cup of tea rather rapidly for the amount of heat it gave off as Lianelle asked him yet again about his past-time activities before leaving home. “I…read books,” he replied casually, as he grinned playfully. “Well, honestly, there were a few times I went to the waterfront as a kid, when I had reprieve from studies, chores, or work. It’s been a while since I last visited there though. Quite beautiful to see something so natural and powerful after being surrounded by civilization for so long.” He shrugged. “We could go there if you want. I could try to remember the way.” Rakhash let another smile spread across his face as he awaited a response.

[Ashari]

"It's ok, it's ok, I know what you meant." Lianelle replied quickly after Rakhash finished speaking about being happy to have met her. "Really, there is nothing we can do to change the past. Even if I could I wouldn't." She shrugged and continued with their meal.

"Oh, the waterfront it is then!" The princess positively beamed. "See, I knew there must've been something you spent your time doing other than studying and working." She grinned. "That sounds like the perfect place. Get to see a bit of the Emphalis Delta and I will really have some stories to bring home with me."

Once she finished her tea Lianelle stood. "Come on." She didn't try to pay for their food this time, she didn't want to offend Rakhash, since he seemed to enjoy taking care of the bill and she had to push to pay for anything. She wanted this to be fun for him. Again her hand reached out for his and she dragged him out of the Sandstorm Cafe.

As they reached the out of doors it became more apparent how hot of a day it would be. The sun over head roared it's fiery breath upon their shoulders and every bit of bare flesh that was exposed chanced being burned. Lianelle, being of noble heritage, didn't have particularly sun-protected skin, but, she did have a dark hue thanks to her lineage to protect her. "Alright, which way?" As he had lead her through town to the Cafe, Lianelle allowed him to weave through the merchant stalls and vendors to bring them toward the city gates.

From behind him, as he kept going there was a jerking and his arm stopped moving before the rest of him to yank him backwards a step. "Rakhash..." Lianelle whispered, which was a rather ridiculous thing to do in the market place. As it was everyone around them was yelling about the wares they were selling. The scent of baked goods floated in the air alongside the aroma of fresh cut flowers in the next stall over. "It's him." The beautiful young woman's face became somewhat ashen as she stared forward through the crowd.

Beyond the pair, and on the other side of a stall full of fresh fruits, was a figure dressed in a black cloak. He stood out against the crowd, and seemed to be moving with haste, as if he had somewhere to be. His face was the thing that was the most shocking, as it was exactly how Lianelle had drawn it, all the way to the hollows of his eyes and the jagged depth of his cheekbones. He appeared only slightly different, and that could've been for the fact that he hadn't eatten in more than a day, though Rakhash couldn't have known that. All he would've noticed was that he was even thinner than the image portrayed.

In actuality he was en route to a boat, to get off this foresaken island as soon as possible. At this point Al Sadr figured anywhere was better than here, and the determination was evident in his eyes.

[Guest]

Rakhash’s smile widened as Lianelle radiated delight at the prospect of visiting the waterfront. As pressing and as hopeless as their situation seemed at any given moment, seeing his friend so happy never ceased to lift his own spirits. Letting out a small chuckle at her comment about him having done something a little more fun, he shrugged playfully and set to finish up his meal.

Rising in time as the beautiful woman before him did, Rakhash reached for his pouch almost as a matter of habit, before glancing at his friend as he remembered her previous insistence on paying. Noting that she simply stood there waiting for him instead, he smiled appreciatively, and pulled out a handful of coins. He counted out the number that he owed the café, and then added on a relatively large sum for the young waitress that had served them. Well, might as well be generous. I can afford it after letting Lianelle pay for all that stuff. Carefully, he deposited the coins on the table, and then signaled so that the waitress would notice them.

As they exited the shade of the establishment, Uphuron’s furious gaze was immediately upon them, bearing down on Rakhash in a manner he had become accustomed to in the past. Most of the work he had done with his father had been outdoors, and Abu’Sahir was no stranger to this kind of weather. Sighing as he felt sweat begin to drip from his pores almost immediately, he glanced back at Lianelle, and pointed through the roaring sea of people towards the city gates. “It’s out that way,” he replied.

The young man moved with a purpose, stepping through breaks in the crowd of people, and at times, parting through them forcibly, not willing to be slowed by some shopper not quite content moving at a relatively quick speed through the venue. He halted though, unexpectedly, at a jerk on his arm from behind. Turning around with his eyebrows irked in question, he looked to his friend. Her quiet voice, her ashen face, and her short, effective words, all sapped the relatively good mood he had been in right out of him.

His eyes cut through the crowd at a rapid pace, finding the spot that held Lianelle’s focus, and in turn, finding the black-cloaked figure. He said nothing, instead looking straight into a face that the woman behind him had drawn so accurately. For the first time ever, he was staring at his enemy, an enemy of flesh and blood, rather than shadows and whispered fears more dangerous in imagination than in reality. A strange calm settled over him, accompanying the odd certainty created by affirming the reality of the man.

That calm ended abruptly, replaced with urgency and surging anger. “Lianelle…Perhaps, you should go back to the café…or the inn, if you know the way. Somewhere safe. I think I can catch him, or at least follow him. He won’t recognize me or know me as anyone but another person in a hurry in the middle of a crowd, but you he might.” He took a step forward, before halting, remembering a night in the inn. “Unless you feel obligated to partake in this,” he amended sharply, despite feeling overly odd at the prospect of a woman, his friend he had promised to protect, no less, chasing after such a dangerous person. It was her right, just as much her problem as it was his, though, and he made no false assumptions that he understood exactly how the minds of women worked. “In which case, I won’t try to stop you. This is a little different than talking to a fairly friendly innkeeper that has taken you in, as I’m sure you realize, however.” He flashed her a sardonic smile, and waited for her response, ready to move as soon as the answer was given.

Fear had no hold on him at that point in time. He had a chance to go on the offensive, to finally make a substantial impact on the situation, and he was going to seize it. The only thing that stopped him, even for a moment, was worry over his friend, and even in this he found himself instilled with a confidence in her ability to care for herself, for a while at least. No, fear would not hold him back from this.

[Ashari]

Lianelle wasn't sure what to do. Her blood was pumping through her veins at a rapid rate, she felt her pulse quickening even as she stood watching her attacker move purposefully through the streets. "Go." She said. "I'll stay here or go back to the inn. I'll find my way." Her eyes finally shifted from Al Sadr to Rakhash. "Be safe. Don't do anything stupid, I need you." Her dark chocolate orbs flicked between his eyes and she bit her lip before haltingly leaning forward and giving him a quick, soft kiss. Her lips were smooth like silk and so very warm. Reluctantly she let go of his hand and pulled away. "You promised you would take me home, don't forget that." Taking in a deep breath Lianelle clamped down her jaw and then looked at the retreating figure of her attacker.

"You better go before you lose him." As it was Al Sadr was weaving through the crowds to make his way toward the docks, and hopefully, (according to him) to a boat. He had yet to get very far, though, which was good. As Rakhash watched Al Sadr took a sharp right down an alleyway. He disappeared from the young man's view.

Already Lianelle was unsure if kissing him had been the best idea. She was worried about him before he even turned to follow her kidnapper. Her heart was in all sorts of turmoil over her rescuer. Stepping into the crowd, were Rakhash to turn around, he wouldn't be able to spot her within throng.

Around him people milled about doing their chores. They hadn't noticed the exchange between the couple, nor had they thought anything of the shady fellow moving through the crowd. If anything, they were merely annoyed as Al Sadr pressed through them to get to his destination. Rakhash would recieve similarly irritated glances as he took off.

[Guest]

Rakhash nodded somberly in approval as Lianelle said that she’d find her way. As dangerous as he knew the city was, he felt just a little bit better about it knowing exactly where her former captor now lurked. He flashed her a small smile at her warning, but felt words that were forthcoming slide back down his throat as the princess engaged him with a kiss. Her soft, warm lips drew his attention completely, and for a brief flicker, the pursuit of Al Sadr became a secondary focus. As she drew back, Rakhash gazed into her eyes intently, before smiling once more. “I still intend to keep that promise,” he replied, his voice soft and less urgent than before.

The young man’s lack of social experience and confidence fell away, crushed beneath the weight of his immediate task. Now wasn’t the time to ponder things that were better thought on in peaceful settings, and already, his focus was back on his rapidly fleeing enemy. Nodding, he turned, and stepped into the throng of people, leaving the beautiful young woman to the task of keeping herself safe.

Rakhash surged his way through the milling people and hawking vendors, sliding his frame through whatever spaces he could find, and forcing his way through when he had to, all the while keeping his eyes locked on his objective. The black-cloaked figure turned sharply right, and disappeared from sight, leaving the determined young man to make his movements forward more insistent.

Looking at the street that Al Sadr had turned into, Rakhash noted that his choice was opportune. It was an alleyway. He had already questioned to himself how he would confront such a man as this without being faced with some kind of physical conflict, and either way the busy avenue upon which Rakhash now stood was no place to do such a thing without drawing unwanted attention. The alley would be narrower, and less well-traveled. Perhaps the gods were on his side today.

Breaking away from the steady stream of moving people, he edged up to the alley, and turned the corner, already preparing himself to deal with whatever faced him there.

[Ashari]

It didn't take Rakhash long to catch up to the alleyway, as he was in a full run and Al Sadr had merely been moving through the crowd at a fast clip. There was no one in the immediate vicinity of the darkened backstreet, but movement from up ahead drew the young man to a turn off of the alley on the left hand side. The air in between the buildings was cool still, chilled from the desert night, and the sun had no way of pushing rays downward, as the buildings seemed so close together that they leaned against one another. Each roof hanging slightly above the next creating a dark environment where shadows were more prevailant than light.

A shiver ran quickly down the young man's spine as he took the corner and was met with a dead end and Al Sadr looking much the part of a trapped rat. Dark hollow eyes started upward at Rakhash. He was bending down, but at his arrival Al Sadr attempted to straighten up, though one of his hands still clung to his abdomen where his cloak clung to his body. "I had a feeling I was still being followed." The voice rung through Rakhash's mind, the familiar husky tone that bellowed through the streets as Lianelle was pushed out of the black carriage, though now there was a quiet desperation in the tone.

"You've no reason to keep after me, boy, unless you need to watch me die to please your employer." He coughed. There was a deep rattling in his lungs and his hand spasmed in pain.

[Guest]

Rakhash stared straight into the Al Sadr’s dark eyes, his face a placid mask for the emotions he felt churning within him. Here at last, cloaked fittingly in darkness as much as cloth, was the instrument of creation for his current situation. He was the man who had woven him inexorably into a web of plots and struggles that ran far deeper than the he was willing to estimate, and the person who had caused his new friend, his only real friend, so much pain and strife. Simply gazing at his face and hearing his grating voice brought back memories of when he had first met his companion, scared witless and in need of protection, and made Rakhash seethe with fury.

Determination, however, held greater power within him than rage, no matter how righteous letting the emotion run amok felt. He had promised to get his friend home, and anyone who was party to her home or her people being harmed would pay, so far as he had a say in it. However, as it now stood, the dark man before him held the keys to information that Rakhash required, and that he valued more than defeating a man who seemed as though fate had already punished him for his crimes.

Finally, Rakhash regained his perception of the situation, as though just then realizing what was occurring, rather than simply that the man he harboured so much disdain for was standing before him. Glancing towards the man’s hand on his abdomen, he arched an eyebrow, his face still calm and refusing to mirror the turmoil he felt within. He’s already hurt…

Taking a step forward, cautious despite the determination he felt and the calm that resulted from it, Rakhash tried to better take in the man’s features. Careful, Rakhash, rats are most dangerous when backed into a corner on their last legs. Standing as still as he could, his pulse almost audible in the absence of other sound, the young man remained silent for flickers after Al Sadr spoke, pondering his words. If the Rafao really was behind all this, what enemies could this man have that would strike at him? Besides himself and Lianelle, of course.

“I’m not here because I was sent by anyone but myself, Al Sadr,” he finally replied, his voice soft and refusing to give off even a glimpse of what Rakhash was truly feeling. “I was coming here to confront you about something you did, and make you pay for it as you rightly should.” He moved his large frame as if to emphasis his glance at Al Sadr’s abdomen. “But I see someone already beat me to the punch on the latter point, hmm?” Rakhash let out a quiet, sardonic chuckle, before crossing his arms on his chest.

Quickly, he turned around and surveyed the region of the alleyway behind him, making absolutely sure there were no unwanted spectators to the exchange. “Now, since I’ve told you who put me up to this, and since you seem to be wounded quite seriously, perhaps it’s a good time for you to reciprocate, and perhaps make some kind of amends with the Gods and your ancestors before you cross over to the other side.” The young man paused, kicking the ground absently. “I have questions that need answering, and yours is the name I’ve been given in my search for answers. You kidnapped a girl, a while back, I’m sure you remember. Why don’t you start off by telling me what you know about that…who put you up to it, why they did it…that sort of thing. We can work from there.”

Rakhash continued to stare intently into the eyes of his weakened adversary, awaiting an answer.

[Ashari]

The kidnapper swallowed as Rakhash said his name. The boy before him must have some kind of information outlet if he knew who he was and could recognize him as well. The laughter from his interrogater brought a grimace to his face.

As he turned, he would find there was no one else present in their little alley way, atleast not now. Between the way Al Sadr had been moving and then Rakhash chasing him it might only be a matter of time though. Or, if luck were not on his side, someone might even just stumble across the pair.

Quietly he listened as the young man posed his questions. "You must not have the connections I originally thought if you need to ask me that." He said hoarsly. "I'm no canary, I will not sing for your benefit." There was a biting in his tone.

Rakhash's hard stare did little to deter Al Sadr to straighten up as best he could and begin to slide forward. "I'll be leaving now. I've a boat to catch and a healer to visit. If you'll excuse me." The street urchin lurched forward and made to go right by Rakhash with waning interest in what the questioning young man had to say, or more importantly, what he wanted to query about.