As a rule, Nori did not seek out noisy, crowded places. As a rule, it liked solitude and quiet, unless the noise were raging winds and rain. But today had been... different. It was a whim, really, and what reason was there not to act on that whim? There was no harm in visiting a tavern, after all, unless it got drunk--something it certainly didn't plan to do. A little warmth, a little noise, and being free to leave when the other people started getting on its nerves--no harm.
So it was that Nori found itself sitting in the exuberantly boisterous atmosphere of the Golden Horn, toying idly with a scrap of cloth it had picked up somewhere. Absent-mindedly, it practiced tying the strip into a knot, then undoing it; with only one hand, the maneuvre took practice, but Nori had had two centuries or so of it. However, it had started to get bored, and so it had--with some care--drawn out the sapphire-studded ring from its doublet pocket. For a while, it just considered the ring with a face which, under the hood, was closed and expressionless; thoughtful, but as though the thoughts were somewhat unsettling ones.
The ring had a history, one which Nori didn't much like to dwell on; for the past of that ring was painful, shameful. But it did make itself remember, sometimes, and dwell on the ring and all it meant, because the lessons that history contained were important. Nori saw that now, though it had taken two disasters, not one, for its eyes to finally open. I used to be different, it thought, then started to thread the ring onto the scrap of cloth. Always out to prove something. Fiercer. Louder.
Stupider, too.
At least my sense of self-worth wasn't based on being to make other people cry, though...
With a quick, jerky movement, Nori got up and headed over to the bar, where it requested a tankard of ale. With ring and cloth still pressed in the palm of its hand, it fished out some coins and slapped them on the counter. Just then, the door opened; the innkeeper shouted a cheery greeting. Nori regarded him with contempt; what a sycophant. He probably wouldn't give a damn if the girl dropped dead of an apoplexy of the brain the next minute; neither would Nori, but at least it didn't pretend that it did. But its disdainful stare was hidden by the hood of its cloak, and, in good spirits, the innkeeper--for his barmaid was wrapped up serving another customer--put the ale on the counter. Nori turned to look at the new arrival as it put the ring and cloth back in its breast-pocket. She was, it supposed, beautiful; young, though. Then again, it thought sourly, looks didn't mean much; its body was stuck at a point between twelve and fourteen.
After a few minutes of careful scrutiny, Nori took up the ale and headed back to its table. Then its foot caught on--something, it was never sure what, because the next few seconds were a whirl; a lurching movement, flash of colour and light, an impact against something about its height and solid--and the tankard was tipping, half the ale slopping out over the rim. With a loud curse that might very well have made a seasoned sailor blush, Nori righted itself, and found that it was looking at the new-comer--the girl it had been watching. It glanced at the tankard; most of the ale was gone.
And most of that lost ale was all over the front of its own cloak, though it looked like a few drops had splashed onto the girl. "Watch where you're going!" hissed Nori, glaring at the young woman; now, there was no way for her to miss its venomous glare--or its yellow eyes--because the cloak's hood had fallen back from its head. And speaking of the cloak...
Nori wished, very dearly, that the ale weren't soaking into its cloak, threatening to ruin the doublet beneath; it wished that it didn't have to take the cloak off. But, reluctantly, its left hand slid out from under the cloak and undid the fastening at the front. As the cloak started to slip to the ground, it held out its right arm so that instead it slid onto Nori's right forearm. It wasn't even quite sure if a missing hand was such a great cause for comment--if the girl would even notice, should even notice; but the missing hand, just like the ring, had painful memories--many of them involving the ring. It was a matter of pride, too; it just preferred to keep the stump of its arm hidden under a cloak (to understate), because sometimes it did attract stares, even comments, which it liked to avoid. Nori's glowering turned fiercer; then, very suddenly, it sighed and its face was blank and smooth as glass, or a sheet of new paper, though far from friendly.
"New to the city?" it inquired, looking her face over; maybe it was just imagining things, but she looked a bit worn out, confused, bewildered, as people in a large, confusing new place often did. "Or maybe I'm just hopeless at reading people."
It had no idea, honestly, why it was striking up a conversation with this lost-looking lass; but why not? If she turned out to be dangerous, well... Nori had no qualms defending itself. Besides, it might be amusing. Who knew?
