It's the common consensus among soldiers everywhere that when life is going badly, the preferred way of coping is to get extremely drunk.
There were certain areas of Reajh considered not exactly safe. Areas where walking down the wrong alley alone was tantamount to suicide, where you didn't walk alone at all if you wanted to come home alive and with all possessions and body parts intact. This bar happened to be in one of those areas, and it wasn't exactly common to see a young woman alone in an establishment such as this. It was the sort of bar that benefited from very, very low light so you didn't notice the grimy smudges on the walls and tables and dishware, the smoke on the ceiling, the half-rotted rushes and gods knew what else on the floor...
Respectable people did not go to these bars. But Zareen had been born suitably lower-class enough that this place was practically in her heritage, and besides... If the two pistols at her belt didn't warn people off of bothering her, there was a distinct air of predator about her that said clear as anything you didn't mess with her unless you wanted a hand taken off. You didn't harass Zareen on the best of days - then, she would probably break your nose, give you a black eye... On a day like this, someone who harassed her might not survive the experience.
Right at this instant, though, she didn't look particularly dangerous, or at least less so than usual. It might be that she'd had enough to drink that the troublesome matter of sobriety was long gone. It might be that she was staring intently into her glass with the look of someone who is not quite as drunk as they would like to be. Just maybe.
And somehow, even in the most disgusting of establishments, there are still people who enter them willingly. Even a certain type that will enter whistling to himself. As is, of course, the case with the large red-haired man who just entered.
Neril scanned the dark room, squinting slightly until his eyes adjusted to the dark room. There were a couple of empty tables... A couple of passed out beggars--maybe they were dead. None one looked too worried. And certainly no one was about to go investigate. At any rate, Neril decided his best bet was at the bar. In fact... yes! Was that a woman?
With a cocky smile, the large man gave a quick primp to his short, ruffled hair, straighten his tunic and set off towards the woman. Clearly he wasn't the sort smart enough to take warnings from the presence of pistols or angry airs.
Sliding onto a stool one down from the woman, Neril drummed his fingers on the bar top, causing the bartender to give him an annoyed look. Ignoring the obvious irritation, Neril smile, "Oh no, still deciding what I'd like to get..." Turning slightly, he sized Zareen up. What was the likes of her doing in a place like this? Oh well--she seemed to know how to enjoy herself. "I want to be in your state very quickly; recommendations?"
The young woman glanced up abruptly as she heard the drumming of fingers on the bar top, her eyes flickering over the large man. He seemed far, far too cheerful for a place like this. She wasn't sure whether she should be concerned by this, or irritated, and finally settled on a state somewhere between the two, which slid somewhat closer to irritation as he actually spoke to her.
Generally people shied away from Zareen in a bad mood, but clearly this man hadn't the sense the gods gave fluffy little kittens. Although come to think of it, he reminded her of something of that sort. Fluffy. Paws too big for its own good. Just what she needed right now.
"Well, I could just do you one better and give you a nice solid whack on the temple," she said after a moment's consideration, with a sort of dangerous mock-cheerfulness. "The end result's probably the same - unconsciousness, headache, nausea... What d'you say?"
He'd actually gotten a reaction out of her! Fancy that! Unfortuantely, Zareen's attempt at a surly turn off had the complete opposite effect on Neril. He could be frustrating that way. So the military as a whole and Zareen could be companions in the misery--both were force to suffer Neril despite their best attempts to scare him off.
"You listening to this?" Neril asked the bar tender, his tone incredulous, "she's trying to out-sell your, I'm sure, very nice stock of alcohol and liquor. And on your own premise too boot! Lovely lady with some balls, I'd say," he leaned a little closer to the barkeeper and mocked a stage-whisper, "Not my preference, personally." And then his face expression changed as if he remembered something very important; he did not have a drink yet. "I'll have what she's having, by the way," he finished before turning back to Zareen with a hapless grin.
The bartender was quick with the drink and Neril took a fast swig, ending with a dramatic, "Ahhhh...." and, after a pause, a burp.
"Sorry for declining your offer, ma'am, but I also like mine fiery as they go down," his tone dropping just enough to be very suggestive. "Unless of course, you think you can do that for me too..." Yes, Neril was all for the vulgar references. Given the setting, this sort of behavior was not only acceptable but endorsed! Why not have a little fun?
To tell the truth, Zareen was a little surprised when the man wasn't immediately chased off by that comment - usually the threats were enough to get a man to back down, if not turn tail entirely. Then again, there was a certain type who thought the snapping and threats to manhood were just "playing hard to get" or some nonsense like that, and actually increased their pursuit after she warned them off. She was not really in the mood for that reaction.
But clearly she was going to need more alcohol to deal with this man, so she quickly downed the rest of whatever questionable liquor was in her glass - only to nearly choke on it at the man's last comment. He had not actually just said that, had he? Except that even intoxicated as she was, she believed her ears. (Who else's ears was she supposed to believe?)
She coughed several times and, once she'd recovered her composure, she slowly turned to face the man, her voice somehow level as she told him slowly, "Normally I wouldn't, but since you're obviously very stupid, I'm going to give you one warning. You make a comment like that again, and your balls are going to be residing in your throat."
Seeing Zareen down the rest of her drink, Neril, actually, looked a little surprised. Was she actually going to take up his offer? He'd seen it before (well, never for him), the woman agreeing but preferring to dull the experience slightly...
But no, she was choking... because she was laughing? Well, if she thought him funny he still might have a chance. He could work with that...
And then there was the insult... and the threat... Hmm... He'd been down this road before. It never seemed to end well but... She seemed sincerely insulted, so it was time to play it off.
"Oh come on, it was funny... Yours," he bit his lip in thought, "yours was just mean and scary." His brow furrowed and, for a moment, he look like a overlarge concerned child. It was a comical expression for a man his size. Turning to his own drink, he took another long swig.
"However," he continued, unphased by her surly comments and cold attitude, "your taste in alcohol and," he glanced around meaningfully, "venue is wonderful. Cheers to whatever you're trying to drown," he raised his glass, not caring that hers was now empty. Yes, it was that evident that Zareen was trying to get drunk for a reason. Neril was, after all, a master at that game.
"Oh, funny that you ask--my name's Neril," he introduced himself with a smile, "and if you promise my balls will stay where they are, I'll buy the next round--" he quickly held up his hands "--innocent binge-drinking, I promise."
"That's the general consensus about me," she said with a slight roll of her eyes. "Mean and scary. Unless you happen to be sleeping with me - which you don't stand a chance of, by the way - in which case I suppose I'm considered quite a bit less scary. Or maybe it's just that 'Nait's not scared of much at all..."
She realized she was talking a bit much and promptly shut her mouth. Usually she didn't mind that alcohol made her more talkative, but she rather didn't want to babble the details of her love life to this practical stranger. It's just proof Da was always right, she thought glumly. Best not to get involved with nobles more than you have to.
"I'm Zareen, and as long as you keep your balls to yourself, I can promise they'll be safe." She considered him for a moment, and then shoved her glass forward toward the bartender, apparently an acceptance of Neril's offer to buy the next round. "It's a her, by the way," she mumbled after a moment. "That I'm trying to drown. Figures."
"Well..." Neril started, twirling his glass absently, "depending on what you do for a living, being mean and scary could be a bonus, I suppose. I wouldn't know because I'm in the wrong career--just too damn lazy to learn anything different." Her little ramble amused him, although he was a talkative individual even without being drunk. But the fact that her tongue was a bit loose because of the alcohol, well, it gave him hope for at least an interesting and enlightening night.
"Nice to meet you Zareen and I promise to keep all my stuff to myself... Unless that working gal wanders over here..." He glanced about, "If she does, would you be able to spot me some?" He was clear he was only half-joking.
However, it was now Neril's chance to go bug-eyed and choke. "A her? You mean to say... Interesting." Realizing that he was toeing a very delicate line, he cleared his throat and straightened up, "Go ahead now, don't be shy, share--I did buy you a drink, I should get a story for it..." What kind of story he was expecting wasn't exactly clear.
One thing was certain, Neril was not the sort of person to help another drunk cut themselves off. Nope. He would indulge her as long as she needed. Or as long as he could afford. And then he could borrow money from her to continue indulging her.
"Well, of course it's a bonus. I'm a soldier, mean and scary's practically in the job description." Not that all soldiers fit that description, but for some reason it inevitably got applied anyway. Funny how that worked.
The comment about the working girl got him a raised eyebrow of warning, but since there were no pistols drawn or fists raised, the warning probably wasn't all that serious. If it were, he'd already be bruised or bleeding, and she didn't even bother responding to the weak joke. Some things are best left where they are.
She couldn't help but give a faintly self-satisfied smile as the man choked. It was always fun to do that to the unsuspecting, even in her worst moods. Perhaps especially in her worst moods, knowing Zareen's sense of humor. The woman took another sip of her drink, hoping it would go to her head quickly. "There's really not much of a story. Stay away from noble girls, though, that's for sure. Not like she ever acted like any of those noble twits up at the palace, but..."
It didn't take much prompting for her to start rambling, though if Neril was hoping for tales of their sex life, he was out of luck. Zareen wasn't that drunk yet, and probably would pass out before she got to that point.
Neril gave a chuckle, "Yes, I can see you being a good mean and scary soldier... However some of us are not as adequently suited to that job description," he finished with a stretch, arms high above his head, "not that that's ever stopped me before... Another round, if you please," he motioned with a hand for the bartender to hurry the drinks along.
"A noble girl? Now that's sordid, Zareen. Look at you, here, at home in this grime--no offense, I love it here too--and recently involved with a noble? Impressive," he said and looked like he meant it. "How'd that exactly work? Was she in military training? Doesn't seem like the world of a noble and well, this," he motioned with a sweeping hand gesture to the tavern, "would have much overlap."
Oh yes, Neril liked to talk.
"Come on, I. I have to make a quick stop in here." The Man opened the door to the bar and smiled down at his younger companion. The Man was around his late forties or so with a limp in one leg. He had a scraggly appearance that would've scared other brutes if he hadn't looked so old.
"Yes sir." His companion, I, was nineteen. Well, she thought she was nineteen. She had no idea what day her birthday was on, but she knew sometime this year, she would turn nineteen. So, as far as she actually knew, she still could've been eighteen. Ah, well. Still legal, right?
She trailed behind him, holding onto the hem of the Man's jacket like a small child's. She had a naiive appearance about her, but in reality, she was one hell of an intellectual. Her red hair was just past the shoulders now--I had been told that she'd look great if she grew her hair out past the ear-level. Her hair complimented her one green eye and her one turquoise eye, both of them sparkling brightly. She wore a simple white dress that just came over her thighs and a pair of white flats.
A simple dress for such a complex person.
The Man turned to her and pointed as one would to a small child. "Now stay here and be a good little pet while I go and get a few drinks."
"Yes, sir." The Man patted her on the head as he made his way to the bar and sat down, gruffly ordering a drink from the bartender. I looked about, remembering that she might have to help carry the Master out of this place--for some reason, this place made him incapable of moving very well...let alone speaking.
Her eyes trailed over to two people who were having a conversation on some barstools--a man and a woman. She would've loved to go say hello, but...but Master told her to stay right there. She wouldn't move until told otherwise.
((Muahaha! The more I try to make her human-like, the more she becomes a very obedient robot. xD))
Zareen snorted a little at Neril's comments. Oh yes. Sordid. 'Nait. Perhaps the term could be broadly applied, but it seemed somehow wrong when it had anything to do with 'Nait, the way she made so certain everything around her was properly ordered, all tidy and neat like if she made things around her that way, it would order the entire world.
"They don't, so much. Overlap. She han- used to hang around the training yards. Her mother wouldn't let her properly train, of course. Too young for that or some nonsense, and what she really meant was that she was too high-born for that. 'Nait ever goes into the military, it'll be with a full officer's commission. But. That's how we met."
As she spoke, her gaze edged over to the man who had just come up to the bar beside her, and the girl he'd come in with. She hadn't missed that exchange between the two of them, and something about it set her hackles up, though she couldn't put her finger on what. That might've been because of all of the alcohol in her system - most of the time, when something bothered Zareen, she could put her finger on it in a heartbeat, and didn't hesitate to let everyone know.
“Nobles…â€? Neril muttered, shaking his head with a disapproving look. “Always thinking they’re too good for the tasks the rest of us’d be happy to have.â€? Of course a blanket statement like that could be said about anyone, really. After all, Neril had his own sense of entitlementâ€"he’d been in the military long enough that he shouldn’t have to do any duty he didn’t want to. It wasn’t often that that worked out, but didn’t stop Neril’s general attitude towards trainees.
“Did the parents get in the way?â€? He probed, understanding that if the mother wouldn’t let the little noble join the military right-off, perhaps she was also the type to resent her daughter being… involved… with someone like Zareenâ€"for any of many reasons.
Even though Zareen was much drunker than Neril at this point, the large man took no notice of the strange pair. He needed to have things bluntly laid out for him, poor man.
"I don't know what to do with her."
"Just get rid of 'er, then," the bartender replied.
The Man downed his drink and looked over at her. I tilted her head and smiled brightly. He returned her smile, but it was a little forced. He turned back to the bartender and ordered another drink. "I can't--I've tried. She searches everywhere until she comes right back to me. Whoever that was who gave her to me ordered her not to listen to any orders of mine concerning me leaving her somewhere and her staying away."
The tender gave the Man another drink and thought a moment. "What if you tell her she's to go on a permanent vacation?"
The Man considered it a moment before furrowing his brow. "Who's going to look after her? That's my problem. Just take a look at her--she's a full-blown slave who could be independent, but has been thoroughly trained not to be independent. She's like a child."
A man sitting at a nearby table began calling to I. I looked at him with wide eyes, interested. What did he want? "Psst! Here, kitty, kitty." I didn't move. "Whassa matter? Come on over."
"Sir ordered me not to move."
"Forget wha' he said, come here."
"No."
The rogue and his friends began laughing. "Wha'd'you say?"
"No." The rogue got up and strode over to her and brushed some hair out of her eyes.
"I order you to never listen to his orders again."
Without hesitation, she nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Very good. Now, c'mere." The rogue pulled her to his seat, her in his lap.
The Man at the bar was oblivious, still trying to figure out how to get rid of the nuisance of a slave.
((I couldn't figure out a better way to "free" I.))
"Her mother is an ice-bitch, so yes, you could say that," Zareen grumbled. "And if you tell anyone this, I'll slit your throat from ear to ear, but she - the mother, not 'Nait - is the ambassador to Serendipity. So she leaves, and takes her daughter with her, for no apparent reason, because 'Nait's no diplomat, but she can't rest easy 'less she knows her precious daughter's under her eye every hour of the day." Zareen wrinkled her nose, glaring at nothing in particular. "Bloody witch."
Zareen kept her eye on the girl across the bar while eavesdropping on the man's conversation - she'd grown up a servant's daughter, after all, and if there was anything servants know well, it was hearing and seeing things they shouldn't while appearing to pay no mind and carrying on their own conversations. The things she'd learned like that...
Her eyes narrowed as the unkempt-looking man approached the girl. Taking into account what the man next to her had said about the girl being like a child, she didn't particularly like the thought of that type of person being around her. Not that she knew the girl, but Zareen had a thing with innocents. You didn't just leave them to be molested by street toughs. She flexed one hand uncertainly, not yet sure if she ought to interfere or not.
"Well!" Neril exclaimed, probably a little louder than he meant to, but blame the alcohol. Dropping his voice dramatically, he repeated what Zareen had just told him to make sure he'd heard right, "You are involved with the Ambassador's daughter? So they've all gone off to that land of mages?" He snorted, taking another drink, "Don't take this the wrong way, my darling, but girl's good as dead there. Mages," he specified, peering at Zareen to see if the woman showed any understanding.
Leaning back, Neril looked thoughtful for a moment, as if calculating, "Yeah, there's pretty tough, all of that. But you're not as nearly as drunk as I would be given your place--you better get going if you have any chance of forgetting that lot of issues." Yes. Neril was a true soldier in some senses... However, there was also a part of him hoping that if Zareen got drunk enough... He still might have a chance of, well, anything.
Despite being completely oblivious to the unsavory situation I was now in, Neril was prone to opening glancing about the tavern every once and a while to keep tabs on some of the possible whores or other loose women and in his most recent scan, he noted the young woman and the street man. Turning back to Zareen, he cocked an eyebrow, "Now, you and your noble is pretty strange but that pair? That's just not right..." However, Neril was never one to lead a confrontation. In fact, bringing it bluntly up to Zareen was his way of passing the responsibility of action.
The rogue was saying things that was confusing I--take her home? Why? She didn't belong to him. And what did he need done in just one night? Surely not--
He twirled a coil of her hair around his finger, inches away from her face. She could smell the booze on him. "Come on, sweet pea--there ain't nothing wrong with that, is there?"
She pulled away from him, pulling her hair off his finger gently. "Yes. Yes, there is something wrong, sir." Now she understood. She arched a suspicious brow at him and became even more suspicious as he laughed at her.
"Ahaha! That's cute, puppet. Now, come on." He took her by both wrists and helped her to her feet. "We've got important business to attend to at home." However, the more he tugged at her little arm, the more she resisted. The rogue's friends laughed mightily.
"She doesn't like ya, mate!" One said.
"Aw, lemme have 'er then, since she don't want ye."
"Shaddap." His grip tightened around I's wrist. She winced and looked about for a way of escape. This wasn't right...and she wanted no part of it. The rogue pulled her to him and tightened his grip around her. She tried her best to push him off of her, but he would barely move. He smiled at her. "Don't worry, puppet. You'll enjoy it, I promise." They seemed to be doing an odd waltz towards the door. "And even if you don't enjoy it...well...take comfort in knowing tha' I'll enjoy it."
I would've called for help, but she had been trained to always do it yourself--a slave that asks for help is a nuisance. I pulled one wrist out of his grip, but his hand around her waist made up for that. The grip around her waist was too tight, making her wince again. Finally, in her teeny voice, she squeaked, "Let go! I can't breathe!"
The rogues laughed. "You think you're breathless now...you wait, my dearie."
"Thank you," she said dryly to Neril. "You are so encouraging, you know that?" Despite her sarcasm, she herself was fairly pessimistic about 'Nait's fate. After all... she was among mages. A land where mages were allowed to run free, where they could do as they pleased without being tossed in prison or executed, as they ought... The thought of 'Nait in a place like that made her skin crawl. She'd seen personally what mages could do. What they might do to 'Nait. Thinking of it, she quickly downed what was left in her glass, praying that it would dull her thoughts, make her stop imagining it, just for the night.
"I'm working on the drunk thing, believe me," she growled, oblivious to Neril's thoughts on the possibilities if she got drunk enough. If she were aware of them, the man would probably be sporting a few bruises, so it's as well that he didn't voice them aloud. "And I'd noticed that," she said, her eyes focused on the girl and the rather... unscrupulous man who'd accosted her. And as the man pressed himself on the girl, she clenched her jaw, a chill running down her back. Not right indeed.
As he started pulling the girl toward the door, Zareen rose to her feet, starting toward them, and when he wrapped her arm around the girl's waist while she clearly tried to resist...
"HEY!" Zareen snapped, her voice loud and sharp enough to cut through all the noise in the bar. Most conversations were dropped immediately as heads turned to look at the blond girl who'd so effectively drawn all attention to herself. Some of them grinned in anticipation of a fight; others shifted a little, making sure that they could easily get out of the way in the case that a fight did break out. Zareen ignored it, striding forward to grip the man's wrist tightly, yanking it away from the girl's waist. "She doesn't want anything to do with you, and frankly, I can't blame her."
Needless to say, Neril was a bit startled when Zareen actually moved to intervene. Firstly, he knew that Zareen was here on very important business--she had a lot of drinking to get to and fast. Secondly, the large man did not take the other soldier for someone who would stand up for others. Or maybe she had a soft spot for women. Humming to himself slightly, Neril realized that that had to be it.
"If you insist," he added, quickly downing the rest of his glass and moving to stand behind Zareen. He wanted to give her enough space so that she could fight easily (because he certainly wasn't about to do all that work for a stranger) but close enough that his association was clear; he was with Zareen and neither appreciated the leery man's motives.
For all that he was a goof, there was something to be said for the sheer size of Neril; the man was large and could see intimidating--so long as he stayed silent. A full head over Zareen, Neril folded his arms across of his chest, leveling the lecherous man a hard glare. If Zareen agreed to doing all the physical work, Neril had no problem playing the part of intimidation.
Glancing to the innocent-looking girl, Neril gave a brief jerk of his head, trying to get her to move over to the side in case things went fighty.
The Man turned about and, surprised to find his servant in the arms of some lecher, jumped to his feet. He made his way towards the man, only to be tripped by one of the lecher's friends.
“Ya got a problem, mate?� The friend asked.
“I doâ€"that’s my servant.â€? The Man stood turning to the brute holding I. “Do as they say and leave her be.â€?
The lecher laughed, his boozy breath making its way to I’s nose. “Wha’ for? So you can just watch her sit in a corner all day? I heard you talkin’ about her. You don’t want her anyway, right? I’ll happily get rid of ‘er for ye.� Of course, the brute’s smile wilted just a little at the sight of Neril. Not only was Neril a head taller than Zareen, he was also a head taller than the brute himself. He shook himself and regained his cocky composure.
As he continued to mock the twoâ€"Zareen for being a woman wanting to pick a fight, and Neril for being a pushoverâ€"I was watching Neril. When he jerked his head, she tried to move aside, only to find the lecher tighten his grip even more on her. Then… “What’re you two gonna do?â€? the lecher asked. And at that moment, he shifted his arm to get a better grip, leaving I just enough room. Just enough.
Perfect! She ducked expertly out of his grip, doing somewhat of a half-split, before standing and punching him square in the nose. The man stumbled back, clutching his nose, backing up to the door. I looked at her hand and shook it, frowning childishly. “Oww…�
The brute pulled his hand away to look at the blood on his hands. “You lit’l bitch!� He strode towards her and grabbed her pretty red hair, making her squeak again in discomfort. He twisted her head around so she would be looking up at him as she tried to pry his hands from her hair. “I ought to give you a good cleanin’ out. A girl like you deserves a good cleanin.’�
Just about to respond with exactly what she would do if he didn't let go of the girl, Zareen stopped when the girl herself broke away and hit the bastard. And Zareen fairly beamed at that. She always did like to see asses like this piece of work get their comeuppance, particularly at the hands of the women they inflicted themselves on. "Hey now, that was great! Why didn't you do that right off?"
But then before the girl could answer, the bastard grabbed her hair, and Zareen drew in her breath sharply - she'd rather thought being hit by a girl would be enough humiliation for him. But no, apparently he was going to have to take a more thorough beating before he backed down. Once again, Zareen grabbed his wrist, this time jamming her thumbnail deeply into the tendons there. At the same time, she brought her other hand up to give him a quick jab in the throat, right on the windpipe, all in the blink of an eye.
Between some rough-edged street-tough and a well-trained soldier like Zareen - and furthermore, a soldier who takes such obvious joy in giving men like him their just desserts - only a fool would bet on the former. Alcohol is one way of forgetting. For Zareen... a good bar fight is another, and just as good.
"I'll say this again - she doesn't want anything to do with you. I severely doubt any woman does. And if you keep pushing me - and pushing yourself on her - I'll make sure to remove the part of your anatomy you're clearly thinking with. Is that understood?"
(ooc: *smacks Neril so hard* Stupid character with the attention span of a mayfly! He wandered off and I totally forgot I was in this thread at all *many apologizes*)
Neril dropped his intimidation act in exchange for a bug-eyed look of disbelief when the victim suddenly struck out. He hadn't expected that from the naive-eyed girl but then again, drastic situations usually led to drastic actions.
That the street-scum retaliated against the girl's aggression did not surprise Neril but Zareen was much faster in moving to deal with him. The large man wasn't worried about Zareen handling herself--even though she was drunk, she seemed to have skills hands and above him--but he was worried about the other girl keeping out of the way. Moving around Zareen's other side, Neril jockeyed to put himself between the other man and the girl. It'd probably be best for everyone if his sleezy hands weren't within reaching distance of anything decent and fair. So yes, Neril made a proper buffer.
"Step back a bit, sweetheart," Neril told her softly, ushering her behind him with his arms.
((Haha! ^-^ It's okay! It's been happening to a bunch of people recently...so there may be an ADD virus going around.))
The rogue gagged and coughed, paying particular attention to the nail in his wrist. He let go of I's hair to take some of the pressure off of his wrist. I looked up at Neril and obediently made her way to stand behind the large man. She grabbed his shirt with both hands before realizing her left handâ€"the hand she’d used to clout the guyâ€"stung like hell. She pulled her hands off of his shirt and favored her hurt hand, poking at it to see if she could heal it herself.
The man, in the meantime, was doing his best to free himself from the soldierâ€"anyone who threatened his manliness was worthy of getting what they want. He wiped his nose with the back of his free hand, noticing how much blood was coming out of it. Sweet mother, that girl had a punch! “Fine, fine! Lemme go then, aye?â€? He pried at her fingers and, when let loose, sulked out the door.
I blinked up at Neril and Zareen and smiled. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.� She turned and looked over her shoulder, seeing the Man standing there. He reached out to put a hand on her head. Before he could say a word, I said, “That other man told me not to listen to you.�
“Wha? So no matter what I say, you won’t listen to me?�
I’s conversation could’ve been the most normal thing in the world to her. She shook her head at his question. “No.�
The Man chuckled. The bastard had the smarts to turn I against him. “Then what’m I to do with you, then? I can’t leave you alone…�
Zareen released the man with a disgusted sneer, absently wiping her hand off on her tunic as if she were convinced mere contact with him would have dirtied her. Well, actually, that seemed quite likely. She watched him until he'd vanished out the door, then shook her head in annoyance and looked away.
"I need another drink," she muttered under her breath. As she did, though, she shot a look at Neril and smiled faintly in thanks for looking after the girl. Crude as he had been with her, he'd done well in stepping between that scum and the girl.
Still, she smiled at the girl as she spoke to her, and answered, "Oh, don't worry about it. This is what we do for fun. Well, me at least. I don't know about him."
And then that man who'd been sitting next to her at the bar stepped forward, and she eyed him with suspicion throughout the exchange between the two, finally saying with annoyance, "You can very well leave her alone. She's a woman, not a toy or a dog, and if she doesn't want to listen to you, you should let her be. Because I'm very drunk, and just looking for a good fight." She paused, thinking, and added, "Another one."
Cue the dangerous smile. Sometimes Zareen shouldn't be allowed anywhere without a handler, for the safety of... well, everyone.
I noticed that the woman was snapping at her Old Sir and shook her head. “Oh, it’s okay. He’s my Old Sir. He doesn’t mean me any harm.� She smiled brightly, the naivety just oozing from her every pore. “I was his slave!�
“AGhahaha…â€? Too late. The Man had moved to put his hand over her mouth before she mentioned that little detail. Hence…the nervous laughter. “Sheâ€"Iâ€"someone gave her to me,â€? he stuttered, “I never really wanted her, per se…her…she…ah…â€?
I spoke up for the Man cheerily. “My trainer and First Sir gave me away to try out on the public.� The Man pulled his hand away from I, running his fingers through his shaggy blond hair. “And my Old Sir has been very good to me up until now,� she added with a smile thrown in the Man’s direction, “so please don’t hurt him.�
Then it hit herâ€"she had no Sir. Her trainer had taught her specifically that if she did not have a Sir, she was as good as a cat decaying in the street. She paled and looked up at the Man, her big, bright, turquoise/green eyes twinkling with worry. The Man took a step back in surpriseâ€"she never looked that way at him! What was wrong? “What’s wrong, I? Your hand hurt a lot?â€?
“Noâ€"I don’t have a Sir.â€?
The Man blinked at her, unsure how to handle the situation before breaking out into a comforting smile. “Oh, is that all? You don’t need one.�
“I’m not supposed to walk around without one, Old Sir!�
“I, call me Fohn. I hate it when you call me Sir.�
“I’m not supposed to call you by your first nameâ€"doing that is an honor I’m not worthy of, my trainer says.â€?
Fohn opened his mouth as if to explain why this trainer was a lunatic to begin with before heaving a sigh, somewhat deflated. “Fine.â€? He looked up at Zareen, the constant battering of having to look out for I every second of the day showing through his wrinkles. “Is there any way you could beâ€"?â€? What was the right word to use around I? Certainly not Masterâ€"she didn’t know what that was the last time and…well…some man he was about to hand her over to…ah, never mind. “â€"her…caretaker?â€?
I looked up at the Man named Fohn. “Caretaker? She takes care of me, right?� Fohn nodded. “I can’t do that.�
Frustrated, Fohn found himself close to barking out his next statement at Zareen. Yeesh. The closer he got to getting rid of her, the harder it was. It took him a second to calm down. “Thenâ€"! Is there any way you could be her friend? Would that work, I?â€? I nodded. “Right. Her friend. At least? Please, I have to put her in a pair of trustworthy hands.â€? Fohn pleaded mightily, his wrinkles seeming to deepen more and more with every word.
((Ugh. Sorryâ€"trying to get back into the swing of things with I and Fohn. Sidenote: Fohn is pronounced “phoneâ€?. xD HAHA! IPHONE! HAHAHAAâ€"! [/bad joke]))
Zareen stared at the girl for a moment. And then at the man, her expression entirely perplexed. But at least she wasn't looking to pick a fight anymore - now she was just confused.
"Excuse me, her what?" she demanded, voice rising from its previous dangerously quiet tone to something closer to disbelieving and hysterical. A few of the bar patrons eyed her, I, and the men a couple moments longer before finally deciding there wasn't going to be a fight and turning away, having lost interest.
"Oh, no, you don't... I can't take care of her. I mean, I can't even keep plants, they all die. And I'm a soldier, I've got trainees, I can't go looking after some girl who..." Zareen trailed off, losing her train of thought, and decided to just abandon it, turning toward I.
"You don't want me. I'm not good for looking after people - only people I look after are my trainees, and they all end up with bruises and broken bones and... There's no reason you can't just go without him, do whatever you like. You're a grown woman..." Her voice had started to edge toward desperation. Defending the honor of some girl in a bar was one thing, good way to relieve tension and all. Being asked to take care of that girl was something else entirely.
Fohn and I jumped back a little at Zareen’s unexpected screech. Fohn shook his head frantically as she began rejecting his offer. “What’ll I do with her, then? Iâ€"â€?
But by then, Zareen was speaking to I. I tilted her head, confused. What did being a grown woman have to do with anything? “I could make balms to heal their bruises and make splints for their broken bones,â€? she offered, her happy face melting her brief confused disposition. “And I can’t do whatever I like, Ma’am. It’s in my bloodâ€"I am a slave, and a slave I will stay. It’s part of an oath I took when I was little. So going without a Sir would be like going against my oath.â€?
Fohn briefly went to the bar to get a drink and came back, taking a long, slow drag on his liquor as I continued to plead. “I won’t get in the way, I promise. M-maybe you could teach me how to be a soldier?â€? Fohn choked on his drink. Her? A soldier? What an awful idea! She’d get massacred within the first dayâ€"or worse. Defensively, I brushed off some dust on her white, waist-length dress, silently noting the bloodstains on it. “I could be! And…and I’d be pretty good at it, too. I promise you I wouldn’t let you down!â€? She opened one palm and slammed a fist into it, remembering briefly that her hand was still in pain. She cringed and pulled her hands apart, shaking her fighting hand.
Fohn arched a brow at her from over his glass. “Yeahâ€"you’d make a great soldier all right. Just look at how you handle fistfights.â€? I pouted at Fohn. “What? I’m telling the truth, I. She could take care of you, but you couldn’t be a soldier even if you tried.â€?
It took a moment. It took a moment for I to finally let the words sink in. Her confidence deflated and she looked up at Zareen with drained eyes. “Please, Ma’am? At least take me in, since Old Sir says I couldn’t be a soldier even if I tried…�
Zareen stared at I, skeptical and a little annoyed by the girl's demeanour. She understood slaves, sure - they had them everywhere - but... slaves still ought to act like people. To be honest, it rather unsettled her. It was like talking to someone who'd been magicked out of certain parts of their personality... The thought made Zareen shiver.
But the offer to train as a soldier... Zareen considered her for a moment, lips pursed. She glanced over her shoulder briefly to Neril - not that he'd be any help - and then back to I. She'd do okay in the army...
Just as long as none of the enemies thought to give her a direct order, a contrary part of her brain added. She ignored it.
The girl could fight - that punch she'd thrown was not at all unimpressive. And if she couldn't handle the more high-pressure jobs, they'd find that out in training and push her toward a gentler specialty. It would still put her under Zareen's care, but in a way Zareen could understand and deal with.
"Why not?" she said finally, despite the nagging feeling that she would someday regret those words.
I squealed and clapped her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet at Zareen’s words. I’m going to the army! She thought. Her mind jumped from happiness to curiosity. I wonder what it’ll be like? Maybe the barracks are filled with blood like First Sir said they were… She shrugged at the thoughtâ€"she’d seen so much blood in her lifetime that it barely phased her anymore.
Fohn blinked in surprise and stepped toward Zareen, his brow furrowing slowly. “Wait a minute! WAIT a minute! You can’t just throw her in the armyâ€"LOOK at her!â€? He gestured towards the smiling red-head who was now standing at Zareen’s side like a loyal puppy dog. “She’s a delicate little flower!â€?
“I can handle it.� I said with a smile.
Fohn choked on his words and waved her off. “Fine! Fine. If you want to go to the army to be murdered, go right ahead. Just don’t come crying back to me. Understand?�
“Yes, Old Sir.�
Fohn growled at his nickname and calmed down to pat I on the head. “I’m just worried about you, I.�
I tilted her head and giggled. “I know you are.�
Fohn smiled and looked up at Zareen. “Don’t get her killed, Miss.� He stood and headed out the door, wondering what the consequences were for what he’d just done.
In the meantime, I was blinking up at Zareen expectantly. What she expected, she didn’t know what. Look at herâ€"she’s so strong! I wanna learn to be just as strong as her! “Sir?â€? (A little side note hereâ€"the only reason she’s calling Zareen “Sirâ€? is because that’s what she was taught. All slaves were to call every master they had Sir no matter what.)) “What now?â€?
(Neril, ooc: omg. dude. for real?)
Wait. Did that just happen? For most of the conversation, Neril had slipped expertly into the background. It was a talent he had--anytime officers asked for volunteers or someone was simply just out for blood, Neril could become as tiny and unnoticable as he wanted. And for this little exchange, well, he knew he did not want to be part of it at all.
First off, slavery was an shakey topic with the large man. He'd been in more than one tight spot where a potential solution involved him becoming a slave, so in general, no, he was not supportive of a practive his horrible betting habits could easily land him in.
Second... Responsibility was never his strength.
Third... Even he realized the absolute craziness of the situation: Zareen had basically just adopted a ward.
Shrugging, Neril took another long drink. Better her than him.
The large man moved forward into the conversation just in time to guffaw at I's eager question. "What now? I think now Zareen needs to keep drinking. A lot more. Cheers," he raised his near empty glass, "to your new ward!" He took a quick gulp, grimacing at the fiery liquid before turning to I directly. "Is I really your name? A number might work better than a pronoun. Can be awfully confusing... Maybe its just me... Or this..." he tipped his empty glass thoughtfully.
"The army doesn't murder people," Zareen started to tell the man scornfully. She would have continued, certainly, given him a lecture or something - when drunk, Zareen got extremely talkative and often just couldn't shut herself up - but Neril distracted her by speaking up, and she turned to face him. She hadn't even batted an eye at I's calling her "sir" - being in the army, she was used to it, because you just didn't get the same effect calling female soldiers "ma'am". Mostly, she'd intended to ignore the "what now"
"I think I do need to keep drinking," she muttered softly, shaking her head a little and giving Neril a murderous look at the term "ward". She lowered her voice to mutter to him, "She's not my ward, she's a trainee. Or she will be, soon as I get her to the academy and sign her up. There's a difference, you idiot."
I smiled at Neril's cheer only to subdue it quickly at Zareen's corrective statement. "Well...my First Sir thought about naming my siblings and I by number, but he decided just to name us by alphabet." She shrugged, still smiling. I had no idea how much she could've had--a real name, a personality..."But it's not just you, Mr. All people find my name a little confusing."
And then, with the attention span of a mayfly, she looked over Zareen's shoulder to take note of what she was drinking. Do all soldiers drink this way? If so, perhaps it makes them a little stronger.
She smiled and got the bartender's attention. "Might I have what she's having?"
The bartender arched a brow at her and set down the glass he had been drying off. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen or nineteen--I don't really know."
"Either way, aren't you a little young to be drinking?"
With the same naivety as before, I shrugged with her unknowing smile. "I don't know. Am I?"
The bartender looked from his stash of liquor to the girl for a moment before shaking his head. "Nah, sweetheart, not tonight. I don't want you getting into any trouble. You hear me?" He walked off to attend to another customer sitting at the far end of the bar.
I fought the urge to listen to what her First Sir taught her years ago: If you know that something will help you be accepted even moreso by your Sir, and someone won't give you what you need, just take it without their knowing. Your Sir's happiness will pay for their lost items.
Neril crooked his brow at Zareen. Did she seriously think this girl would be independent enough to function as a regular trainee? She must be a lot more drunk than she seemed. Or stupid. With some people, it's hard to tell. However, he knew better than to push the issue. Zareen would realize her folly later and until then, he could be amused.
When I began her little explanation of her name, it was clear that the wheels were turning in Neril's mind... "So... you've eight others like you? Where are they?" But I's attention had already switched to drink and Neril abandoned his question, only giving himself enough time to give Zareen a look. There was something... off... with this girl.
After the bartender declined to serve I, Neril--without a thought--quickly offered her the rest (small amount though it was) that remained in his glass, "Here, finish that off for me. See if you like it."
Zareen chose to ignore Neril's doubt. He didn't train kids - she'd have known him, if he did - and her estimate of his intelligence had been taken down several notches by certain previous comments he'd made to her, so if he thought this was a bad idea, she supposed she didn't have to listen to him. If he turned out to be right later... well, she'd deal with that later.
Still, she did return Neril's look with a resigned glance of her own, and one that somewhat implied the question Well, what else was I supposed to do? She knew there was something off with the girl, but honestly, she was supposed to just leave her?
...Amid all of this, she can't help but ask the question, Why me? Gods, this girl was as old as she was, maybe older, and she was like a child. No, that wasn't right. Children were more self-sufficient than this girl. Like some pathetic puppy you just wanted to kick to make it stop following you... and you couldn't bring yourself too. Zareen rubbed at her temples. Why was she the one who had to put up with this?
Because she couldn't say no to someone who needed taking care of, that was why. Bloody hell.
I looked down at Neril's glass and smiled. "Yes, sir!" She took it and sniffed it at first before sipping a little. She wasn't expecting the small amount of liquid to feel fiery going down. Startled, she jumped a little and squinted her eyes. The taste was phenomenal, but it was the fiery part she didn't like.
She turned to Neril and caught his look directed at Zareen--and thought nothing of it. She'd seen it before and it never bothered her. Her First Sir always mentioned that when people looked at her that way, it meant they were jealous they didn't have a Distinguished Chattel. She'd faintly heard him ask a question before she'd turned away--what was it? Thinking back, braving another sip of the drink, she mumbled, "I have four brothers and four sisters, yes. But I don't think they survived training."
In fact, she knew they didn't survive--incompetent slaves were gotten rid of at once where she came from.
Neril gave an sharp amused laugh at I's reaction to the fiery drink. She actually jumped a little. Wasn't that cute! Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad, he started to realize... So long as Zareen was actually responsible for the girl, he could just have fun with her. "Interesting..." he said, turning a bright smile towards Zareen, "Wonder what else she hasn't tried yet..." The comment could have been meant innocently. But it was coming from Neril. So. It probably wasn't.
(ooc: fast but done. I get to go perform surgery on mice tomorrow! Yay!)