OOC: Ok, the title isn't quite fitting of this scenario (YET) but if Gherrick becomes as dashing as he normally is, I'm thinking he might be doing a lot of damsel in distress saving here X3
Also, feel free to have your character start elsewhere. I have clever ways of getting him into Essyrn, but figured I'd stop the intro post where it is for now and maybe the pair can meet up in the next post or two?
I'm also thinking we totally link Gherrick and Milani together somehow, like maybe she comes into possession of an artifact from his former kingdom or something HRMMM
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The Sea, the open Sea, it had always been his second home, and now, with several millennia having passed since his kingdom had been swallowed beneath the oceans, Prince Gherrick of the former Windevhr Islands, found himself returning to his humble beginnings, but to start anew. He had made a name for himself in Connlaoth, as the notorious pirate, Seven of the Sea. But with the war having ravaged the land and scarred the cities, he found in the aftermath that they no longer needed a man like him.. and well he? He needed to move on. Too many stories had been planted there, too many memories, too many tears... And far too many secrets unearthed about his past that now had him returning to the very ocean he had once called home.
When the ruins of Evra had been unearthed, he was surprised to find himself awakening it's old technology, and along with it, secrets he needed to keep under wraps, lest it fall into the wrong hands and for the wrong purpose. For even now, the technology and magics from his kingdom surpassed all that he had seen here in the rest of the world...
So now, Gherrick stood at the front of his ship, the salty air whipping through his dark red hair and fluttering the tail ends of his blue silken head band. Thanks to the archaeological findings hidden underneath the city of Uthlyn, he now possessed the enchanted sword of his people, as blessed by their Child Goddess, Evra. It was now sheathed at his side, and the necklace of his goddess's crystal tear now draped around his neck, and a spectral map, only awakened by the summoning of blood and prayer of an Evherien people, was tucked away into the cylindrical map case slung over his back. Gherrick was ready to uncover the mysteries surrounding the secrets of his past life... The secrets to awakening Windevhr Island.
He had to figure out why he was still alive..a nd if there was a way to return his Island Kingdom from the bottom of the ocean floor. He knew not how, and barely had a crew to guide him as they struck out into the ocean, but he had to find a way, and the few men he had left for his crew were close to him and would never abandon him. They swore to stick by his side until the end.
That was.. until the storm. A storm that shook through their sails and tore apart their masts, breaking them in half in a terrifying series of cracks in the dead of night. And Gherrick watched in horror as his ship was swallowed into the dark black ocean waves of the night.
So when he awoken, who knew how many hours later, he was hearing gulls. Sea gulls? It was hard to tell. He groaned. His entire body ached, when suddenly the gull he had been hearing landed upon his head. It fluffed out it's wings and fluttered it's tail feathers, before dropping a tiny little turd on the fancy, golden embroidered '7' on the back of Gherrick's blue silk shirt. Gherrick continued to lay there, completely unaware when he heard the gull give a cry again.
Lifting up his face from the sands of the beach, he made a face as the gull, now terrified, took flight, leaving feathers to dust into his face. He swiped them away and was soon spitting out sand, sand that was even in his eyes. He tried to wipe that away, too, only to find more sand smeared onto his face from his hands that had been buried deep into the beach.
"Where am I?" he asked out loud, as if anyone might hear him in this lonely, abandoned beach front just on the outskirts of the great Moraki desert... but also, but mere miles from the great city of Essyrn itself.
Milani lay across a chaise in the Borabi Inn, running her fingers along its jewel-colored cushions, tasseled and embroidered with gold. It always seemed that she could see the wealth, touch it with her fingertips, but it was never really hers. She rose and grabbed a blue fluted bottle from a carved wooden table; she removed its beautiful stopper, and proceeded to rub jasmine oil through her curly, jet black hair. As she replaced the bottle, she turned to the man still lying on the chaise and asked: "When can I meet him?"
The man, a tall, thin merchant who sold spices to one of the merchant princes of Essyrn, had claimed to have a special relationship with the prince, to know him personally. Milani had overheard the conversation and with careful practice, seduced the whole truth from him. Though they weren't on first-name speaking terms per se, this man (whose name was Avor), did deal with the merchant prince on a regular basis. Avor was a savvy merchant, and he knew the ins and outs of the spice network to an absurd degree, which made him a useful business partner.
"What would a concubine have to say to a merchant prince anyway?" Avor laughed. This was their second meeting, and like last time he found the idea that a woman of her status would seek out a merchant prince to be amusing.
"That is my business," she said, eluding his calloused hands as he reached out to snag her waist. Business indeed, she thought. For in truth she was looking to make the prince a business proposal, as a consultant perhaps, for the glass he was so fond of. She could imagine that even being near a man of that status and wealth would be a heady perfume. Infectious. "So?" Milani prompted.
"Well...," Avor began, sitting up, watching her don her sheer sari. "He's a busy man." As he saw the angry blush that crept into her cheeks, he hastened to rectify the situation--"but come, there's still time." He stood, drawing her into his arms and stroking her cheek with his rough fingers. "Look," Avor said, procuring an obsidian triangular object. "A gift for you."
She plucked it from his fingers, casting him a suspicious glance. "What is it?" She traced the strange golden runes on it. He took it from her, and placing his hands at its base, opened it, revealing a gorgeous necklace. Though Milani loved adornments, she never wore them--she bartered them for gold; there would be plenty of time to show off her wealth once she was actually wealthy.
"I guess it will do," she said with affected disinterest, lifting the necklace and checking to make sure its jewels were not glass. "Wherever did you get it?" she wondered. Avor told her some tale she only half-listened to about a lost merchant vessel picking up this strange relic in its nets. "I must go," she said, when he'd finished. And though he begged her to stay, she merely reminded him of his promise to secure her a meeting with the merchant prince. Milani was not one to be distracted. She left the lavish inn in haste, headed for the market to see who could make sense of this strange relic, and how much gold she could get for the beautiful necklace that had been inside it...
The nearest city was Lapazal. Lovely, lovely Lapazal; and the beach was a place many women were paid to come do their laundry. It was a long trek, but one well worth it to get ones clothing cleaned and smelling fresh, like the sea; so as Gherrick sat up, he noticed movement on the horizon. There was a sea of colors coming his way- so many colors that, at first, it appeared as if a massive wall of fluttering clothe was heading straight for him. That was, until he realized the hoard of colors was actually a hoard of women who, upon first glance, ooed and cooed and fussed over the red-haired stranger all covered in sands.
Many blushes and a few lip-stick stains later, he found himself joining the ladies in their wash, he, sitting at the beach now in his under garments (which, for the ladies, gave them quite the nice sight to see) while they all worked together doing some laundry (his, of course, included with a few winks from them, which, naturally, got the desired, bashful results).
They would tease him here nad there, in their accented-common tongue, before giggling and turning to one another as they went back to speaking Essyrn. Gherrick wasn't too fluent in it, but he knew the basics, so when he spoke back; the women all blushed and giggled; and soon he had made a great number of friends; and the caravan of laundry ladies now made their way back to Lapazal with a new treasure (erm, I mean friend?) in tow.
Gherrick was thankful his red-painted bo-staff had survived the shipwreck for as they walked through the sands, it worked well to keep his tired body supported for the long journey. And he was also happy his clothign was now clean. It smelled like sweet perfume rather than soggy sea-weed and sweat, and was still cool and drying as they treked through the desert during the last dying lights of the day.
Though once in Lapazal, Gherrick was greeted much with the same attention as he had at the beach, as more ladies seemed to swarm around him at the laundry house. And he, found his cheeks hurting from the smiles and hot blushes he had been wearing the whole day through.
Thankfully, by the end of the day he had secured a bit of information as to where he was, and what he ought to do with himself. He was a thief, though he did not like using it for himself, but he needed to find a way to get himself another ship and see if anyone else he knew that was on board was still alive.
So as luck would have it, one of the laundry lady's husbands was traveling into the city of Essyrn, bringing in a herd of mules to sell. Gherrick offered to help, free of charge, but the man offered him a silver for his time, and the two traveled in the silence of the rock and sand roads that wound through narrow grey canyons that littered this section of the desert.
It was a relatively peaceful night, very quiet with barely a few spells of words passed between the two men. ANd as they neared the city, the stars had all but faded from the sky and the sun had begun to rise, casting the entire enchanting city of Essyrn in the color of gold.
"Here we are in Essyrn, one of the most beautiful cities in the world."
The Etzyrn Market was clamoring with people just before Noontime, the steadily climbing sun beating down on the gleaming umber shoulders of traders and patrons alike. Beautiful silken tents were erected all along the streets and the main market square with their various wares showcased and announced loudly by exuberant traders to the steady stream of passersby. There were fabric-lined boxes of rich red and orange and dark green spices for sale, silos of grain, and woven reed baskets full of pungent, sharp-smelling fruits and legumes that lent a distinct and exotic aroma to the scorching, glimmering air. Mosaic and bubbled glassware tainted with every color imaginable, the thin but beautifully embellished fabrics and wraps so fitting to the desert heat, and the endless array of bangles and necklaces and headpieces glistening gold in the sun dazzled the eye.
Milani wove her way through the crowd with practiced grace, her elegantly slippered feet kicking up dust. The first time she had come to a market like this one, she'd been thunderstruck, absolutely dazed and astonished and...overwhelmed. Now her practiced gait took her speedily through the labyrinth of hawkers and tradesman to where she wanted to be. It was a wooden stall, smaller than the other tents, tucked into a corner of the market's main square; it had a faded pink canopy which shaded its owner, a short and well-muscled man with white teeth and dark skin that flashed in stark contrast with each other as he called out to potential buyers, trying to entice them to indulge in the odd paraphernalia he offered--scrolls, the rare book, and a collection of "exotic" jewelry with incredibly large price tags.
"Torzel," she called out, sidling up to his stall with an alluring smile. Torzel's own answering smile was brilliant.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, laying down a dainty amber-studded bracelet he had just been trying to sell to a young man, who was instantly forgotten. Milani smiled at Torzel and extended her hand, which he kissed. Milani had made the acquaintance of Torzel when Akriyan had still been her owner, and the eccentric bookkeeper had not changed since, not his wild gesticulations or his passionate energy.
"I was wondering if you know this language," she said, removing the small triangular prism from a fold in her sari. "Or what these drawings mean." Torzel immediately began to scrutinize the obsidian pyramid, previous customer forgotten, running his hands along the carved symbols and icons.
"It is most certainly a sacred object," he announced finally, "very old, about two hundred or three hundred centuries."
"From what nation is it from?" Milani asked. "And is it magical? Enchanted?"
Torzel shook his head. "Not enchanted, at least not with any magic I have ever seen. And as for its origin...if this indicates a deity," he pointed to the depiction of a woman that seemed to be connected to a circle that enclosed her, "then it is not a religion belonging to any culture I know." Torzel shook his head once again. "I'm sorry I cannot tell you more."
Milani returned the relic to the folds of her sari. "I know more than I did five minutes ago," she said simply by way of thanks. "Now I have one more question..." she murmured, withdrawing the necklace that had been inside the relic and clasping it about her neck. "How much do you think I should ask for this?"
Torzel made a sign of prayer and, addressing the gods, told her: "Keep it, my dear Milani! Never has anything so suited you. It speaks of the sea, the blues and purples of the open water, and it brings out your eyes."
Milani hated being reminded of her strange eyes, the markings of a foreign ancestor that most Essyrni looked down upon. But she smiled anyway. "How much?" she asked. Torzel sighed, and gave her his estimation.
"Thank you, my most valued friend," she said sincerely, conjuring her sensuous smile once again. All being as it was before, she began to make her way across the market square, listening to the loud calls of auctioneers and bidders, boldly meeting the admiring gazes of curious men. As she traipsed across boldly, imagining what it must feel like to be a merchant prince, with a sense of belonging and ownership and security in such places as these, she lifted a hand to the heavy necklace trailing down her chest--it really was quite beautiful, and so distinctive. She'd never seen anything like it--inset with pearls and lapis lazuli, obsidian and opal and diamonds, all in a chassis of gold that fell across the full swell of her breasts like jeweled rain.
OOC: I'm posting this so I don't lose it X_x but I still need to edit it.
This post is long T_T
and not quite done yet :T *works works*
I'll remove (cross out) this OOC note once the post is 'done' and ready to read :T
Ok, the post is good enough to read XD
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The city was alive with people and colors. So many exotic smells drifted through the dry-heat, so many bad smells as well, especially when the poorer, sweatier peoples would pass by, those that hadn't bathed in a few good weeks and worked with the animals or their dung heaps. Though the perfumes were heavenly, and most women here ( and even the men), smelled of sweet oils and scented waxed lards they used over tops of their heads, some still wearing them like crowns as they melted throughout the day, keeping their wearer fresh.
And the sound of the city was even a most enjoyable one, with the sounds of the hustle and bustle of people, and the mew and yews of animals. Wares and fires chimed and spit, diamonds and jewelry glittered and shined; all of it making the whole place seem other worldly to Gherrick, who had been in Connlaoth for so much of his waking years since the fall of his people.
This world was refreshing, and his bright blue eyes took it all in in wonder.
"Thanks for the help, young man," the mule-herder told him, the voice of which broke Gherrick from his enchantment. He smiled.
"It was a pleasure," he humbly informed him, but when the man tried to offer him the silver, he shook his head, but the man pressed it into his palm anyway.
"No, take it. If I were a ship-wrecked man, I too, would not be as humble to refuse a bit of silver. Get yourself a bite to eat and see what can be seen here. Perhaps you can find some work to get yourself some money to procure another ship of yours?" And the man smiled, exposing his rotting teeth, which were still far whiter than his skin.
Gherrick smiled back at him, patting the nearest mule.
"Well, alright, but if I make my name in fame and fortune here, who should I call to thank on for this silver bit?"
The man laughed. "Gilden!" And continued to chuckle, a laughter from deep within his belly.
Gherrick's eyes sparkled as he smiled in returned.
"And your name, stranger? I apologize for not asking sooner. The travel was nice and peaceful. I tend to enjoy it in it's reverie, so I do not talk much until I am in the wake of the sun," Gilden admitted.
"Seven."
The man raised his brows.
"Seven, of the sea," Gherrick then added, his smile going crooked.
"An appropriate name for a sailor!" Gilden laughed. "Though, I do not think we have so many seas?"
Gherrick laughed. "Well, the number is not meant to be a number of the oceans, but a number of luck. It's.. a long story."
Gilden's eyes shined. "Ah, so I see." And he bowed humbly and made a gesture across his two shoulders as he dipped his head twice. "Well, may the makers of the sun and sands keep watch over you, Seven."
And 'Seven', did the same gesture back, but adding a bit of his own Evherien heritage flair to it. It was then the man noticed the necklace about Seven's neck as it caught on to a bit of the Essyrnian sunlight.
"A pretty jewel you've got there. If you are in a spot of bad luck, I'm sure a merchant might be able to purchase it for quite a lump of gold," Gilden said, but then also looked over Gherrick's attire and added with a laugh, "Or even those shiny, blue silks you wear!"
Seven closed his hand around the tear shaped jewel of the necklace.
"Even if I were starving, we would not part." Then he added with a laugh, "Same with my clothes!"
Gilden looked Seven over before giving a laugh.
"So are the famous words of lovers!" and now the both of them were laughing. "Take care my friend. And may the luck of 'Seven' be with you." Gherrick blushed and smiled, nodding his head as Gilden patted him upon the shoulder, then returned to the stable and lot to deal with his mules.
Seven remained there for a time, his blue eyes studying the mules as he smirked. They were definitely interesting creatures, a bit smelly, whcih reminded him he ought not to tarry, before he made his way out into the open streets of Essyrn.
There were so many sites and sounds, so many exotic wonders that Seven easily found himself all but turned around and... completely lost. Not that he knew where he was going to begin with, but soon he found himself in the Etzyrn Market, and at one corner, a series of hot pink and purple tents with stars and hearts painted across their surface, and gold tassels adorning the ends and tent flaps, stole his attention...
As did the lovely ladies in colored wraps standing out front, faces painted in all sorts of colors to match their robes. And the lovely ladies were staring right back at him, giving him a few giggled waves. Gherrick blushed and waved back; only to find himself nearly jumping out of his skin when he heard a voice boom from behind.
"Seven!? Seven of the Sea!?" Gherrick turned around, finding himself now being cast about int he approaching shadow from a very tall and muscular man, one that easily dwarfed him in appearnce, who had a ratty, black beard, ratty black eyebrows, and a tattered eye patch pressing uncomfortably over his left eyes and simple white pants and a tucked in, sleeveless blue shirt. "I never forget a mark." the man stated, laughing roughly through his rotting teeth. "But I never thought I'd live to see the day that the elusive 'Prince of the Sea', 'Prince of the thieves', the 'Prince of Luck' ought to find himself here in Essyrn."
"Oh, so is that what this place calls itself, Mohz'ren?" Seven shot back, not about to deny the obvious acquaintance. And Mohz'ren laughed.
"Yes, City of the Light, Sands, and your blood," the man replied, slowly unsheating his sword. The blade glinted off the sun, which caused lights to flash across Gherrick's eyes and making him see stars for the briefest of moments. "You've got a pretty penny on your head, Seven. Even here, miles away and near the Moraki Desert."
"Well, isn't that lovely? I was going to see about getting a job, but maybe if I turn myself in for money-" Seven began to say when a sudden
"YARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" came roaring from Mohz'ren's mouth as the beast of a man came tearing towards him, sword in hand and cut through the air with a whoosh. Seven ducked just in time, dancing away from the sword slashing attacks with a dancer's finesse, and eventually tumbled himself far enough away to buy himself time to yank the red bowstaff from where it was slung across his back, and made a quick sweep and took out Mohz'ren's legs.
Turning around, Gherrick was about ready to bolt clean out of there but as he stumbled to a halt. To his left was a man holding three sheeps and a goat, the goat of which 'baahed' along with the sheep as it's owner stumbled to a halt to stare right back at Gherrick. The man had a larger heard following him, and Seven wasn't about ready to start a stampede of sheep throughout the city... So he turned and to his right, there was the bustling, busy streets, that of which a large caravan carrying heavy obsidian blocks was walking through. No, that direction was no good. So he turned, hands sweating at his sides to look right before him, and right before him were the lovely ladies again.
They giggled his way, fluttering their dark lashes and gesturing for him to come on in. Though before he had a chance to re-think his plan of action, Mohz'ren was growling from the sandy streets and throwing an arm out and latching onto Gherrick's ankle. So when Gherrick attempted to get away, he lost his footing and fell clean onto his face.
"I've got you now, Seven of the Sea!" the man shouted, when suddenly Gherrick's leather boot smashed into his face. "ARGH!!!" and another quick kick had Gherrick stomping ontop of Mohz'ren's fingers and the man "ARRRGHED!!"ed again.
With his leg now free, Seven let out a cry of elation as he dashed away, calling back towards Mohz'ren,
"Better luck next time, Mohz'ren! Maybe you'll find me back on the other side of the world next time we meet!" and the man growled in resposne as Gherrick laughed and disappeared,running full force into the curtained tent of the 'Lovely Diamond' whore house. And it was only when he was half way through the place did Gherrick find himself tripping over a very ornate piece of furniture, and landed, face first, into a mound of exotically colored pillows, with glittering tassels adorning it's sides.
With a groan, he lifted his face from the plushed, perfumed bed of pillows to be staring up at..
his face went red, for he was looking at a very ripe, and very pert, and very swollen pair of breasts, barely held together by a slim piece of translucent white clothe.
"Hey there, handsome, here to play?"
At her words, Gherrick's mouth dropped open. The woman's grin turned into that of the chesire cat's. SHe laced a long, loose wrap of clothe around his neck; the fabric being sheer and thin, and as nearly translucent as her top.
"Come, my name is Sorya," she purred. "I take you to heaven now, ya?" And she pulled the piece of clothe she had drapped around him, drawing him in close and smashed her lips hungrily into his.
Gherrick's eyes went as wide as saucers before they fluttered closed. He exhaled through a moan as they kissed, and by the time he was able to get his wits about him, the woman was kissing him deeper, hands slipping inside his robes and threatening to pull them open. It was when his shirt hung off his shoulder did he give a yelp and tore away from her grasp.
"Er- s-sorry, you're very nice but.." Gherrick stammered. The woman looked up at him, her dark hair in a tussle before her eyes. But she had a knowing grin and was pleased when she looked down towards his pants, seeing something interesting there. Gherrick's face went as dark red as a tomato.
"Is she not your type?" Another woman cut in, stepping out from behind hima nd wrapping her bangled arms around his neck. Gherrick gasped, choking now on his breath, his eyes bulging from their socket and his heart, nearly shot clean out of his chest. Her body was pressed up behind his, her hands now smoothing down his front, pushing open the front of his shirt some more to smooth over the muscles of his chest. "Oh.. nice and tight," she purred into his ear, grabbing firmly at his ass.
Gherrick yelped again and leaped away from the woman.
"Ladies, ladies! It is not that I, erm, don't appreciate your sentiments but, I er- really don't have the time to be- and well, this is most inappropriate you see-" and that's when he felt a hand on his crotch and froze in place. Any attempt for him to escape was thwarted as his legs turned lame. The same hand now smoothed down his thigh. His blue eyes dropped down to spot a pair of women on the floor. One of them rose to her knees before him with a giggle, and grabbed at the black-wrapped clothe belt about his waist.
"There is always time for a 'diamond'," the woman cooed. Gherrick's face burned hotter.
"No, seriously, I-"
SFFFFFFFFT- and in one stealthy move, the woman yanked the belt off from his pants, and they dropped clean to the ground. Gherrick went from beet red to ghost white, and just as the group of women began to latch all around him, kisses here, touches there; a sudden..
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!" cut through the mess.
"Mohz'ren!" Seven exclaimed, turning around and staring slack-jawed and stupid at the bounty hunter who was now storming his way. And boy was he ever red faced.
"L-ladies!" Gherrick yelped desperately, tripping over them now as he was trying to push them away so he could escape not only them, but the man snarling his way! He fumbled at his clothes, but the women kept at it.
"LADIES!" he shouted again, his voice finally coming out with some conviction as he yanked up his pants, stumbling over the lot of them. They all paused and stared at him, and he only stared back at them with his hair a mess about his face,a nd his clothes, still a loose mess as well. They seemed so sad now that he was leaving, all wearing doll like pouts.
"Er.. s-sorry but I have to go?" Seven said with meek hesitation. "But I kind of want to keep my head!"
"YARRRRRRRRRRR!" The ladies bought Mohz'ren enough time for him to get close enough to tear his sword at Gherrick's face. The women gasped as he plowed through them.
Upset and more pissed off that he ruined their chances with the handsome red-haired stranger, the women began to hiss and shout at him in their native tongue, throwing wine at him and even spitting before proceeding to beat on Mohz'ren with pillows, blankets,a nd then finally, beginning to crack jars over his head.
"ARRRRRGH! Ladies, ladies STOP!" he roared, and the entirety of them halted a moment, but only briefly to hear out Mohz'ren's words. "You're letting that thief get away!!"
And the women all exchanged glances, Sorya then signalling them when all at once, they took up jars and smashed it over the man's head at once. And at the sound of Mohz'ren's screams, Seven turned around as he slipped out the back end of the tent, a smile upon his blushed cheeks. He was all lip-stick stained, from his face to his chest (and even a few pocked his pants- and even beneath). And his clothing was still half falling off as he stumbled over his own boots and had to use his bostaff to support his legs as he walked (for there was a pair of panties tied around one ankle, a few perfumed scarves on the other,) which now hindered his movement. Pulling up one sleeve, he found himself needing to use his other hand to keep up his pants, for his black, silk belt was long forgotten in the bowels of the wicked 'Love Diamond'.
"Gods... I'll never forget the city of Essyrn," he muttered, as he stumbled through the backs of buildings and tents of the market and began to work at plucking off the remains of the lovely ladies's discards, leaving a trail of their belongings in his wake. It was only when he made it to the far end of the market that he felt safe enough to slump against a sand stone building and buried his face well into it, his bow staff now draped at his side, and his appearance somewhat more modest than it had been before.
OOC: WOOH! So this is VERY late... I hope you don't mind my little artistic liberty with Gherrick's belt... I thought it worked into the story very well. And now they are all set to meet! OH YES! (and your post was laugh out loud fun! XD)
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The smell of honey and walnuts and fresh-baked bread entrapped Milani halfway to her next destination. She found herself by the ovens, with coin in her palm as she eyed the delicacies that were being taken off the fires, fresh and steaming. If anyone were ever to ask her weakness, she would say without hesitation it was these sugary pastries--fluffy, warm steaming bread with a glaze of golden honey and a medley of nuts. As she reluctantly gave up the price for her favorite treat, she heard a man cry out from the center of the square.
The general noise and bustle of the marketplace was practically background to Milani, and after she'd noted the singular outcry she then heard a man bartering in a loud and angry tone, and dismissed both as typical. She turned her attentions back to her pastry, and ate it slowly, savoring each bite with relish, eyes closed. Someday, she imagined, she could have these every day with dinner, not just when she occasionally came to the market; she could even buy the recipe. When she was finished, she continued on her way, licking the honey from her lips and fingers.
When she reached the Lovely Diamond tent, she found it in quite the state of disarray. Broken pottery bestrewed the lush and carpeted floor, and a large man with an eye-patch was arguing with the diamond's Madam and seemed cowed in the face of the older woman's sharp and biting tongue.
"My, my, my..." Milani muttered to herself, "what has happened?"
"A most gorgeous man was here!" gasped one of the diamonds closest to Milani, evidently having overheard her speak. "So handsome," she sighed. She cast the man with the eye-patch a glare. "But he chased him off." Another sigh.
"Hm." Milani feigned disinterest, pushing aside a curtain of fabric to find her friend, a friend who should have information for her about the quarries by the sea...
Milani's eyes went wide. This corner of the tent was empty, but amongst the disarranged cushions and divans was a black belt, embellished with a familiar icon. She kneeled, running the black belt through her hands. The image vanished almost instantly; it was sewn in with a thin golden thread Milani imagined, as if it was only meant to be seen when the garment caught the light in a perfect manner. But the image was stamped in her mind, and it had looked exactly like the one on the relic... She withdrew it from her sari, to make sure. Crouched on the ground, she realized that the owner of this belt must be the gorgeous man the diamond was moaning about.
A scarf trailing out the back entrance of the tent caught Milani's attention. She pushed aside the tent flap and looked out down the street, and saw a trail of brightly-colored garments--the breadcrumbs of concubines. Milani smiled.
He was hungry, and the sweet smell from the market's honey-baked goods were so tantalizing he began to drool. Groaning, he raised his head, raked a hand through his dark hair and sighed. He was smoothing down his clothing when he saw the silhouette of a woman approach against the walls of a nearby sandstone building. His eyes went wide, and the only thing he could think of was just had to be one of those adamant ladies from the 'Diamond.'
His eyes darted around quickly for a place to hide, and he slipped in a narrow crevice between two tent flaps, hoping to be hidden by the dark shadows and fabric draping before him... all the while not realizing, one of the women's scented scarves lay just at the base of his hiding spot, and worked like an arrow, pointing right to his oiled boots.
Milani stood with her elbow in her left hand, the other holding her chin. She gazed down at a scarf trailing in between two tents, its shimmery purple fabric beckoning her into the folds of fabric. She looked about the street behind her, at the carts and patrons going by, oblivious.
Milani cast aside the silken tent flaps, letting light stream into Gerrick's hiding place, gilding her curvaceous silhouette. Her eyes widened as she took in the man she'd chased along the market street. His hair was disheveled around his handsome features, and his eyes were the bluest she'd ever seen.
"You are gorgeous," she purred, violet eyes smoldering. "And you leave quite the trail." She let a myriad of brightly colored garments float to the ground at his feet, where they piled on top of the scented scarf that had given him away. "Have you lost something?" She smiled, two dimples popping in her chin, and brought her hand to her cheek, showcasing the belt that snaked between her slender, caramel fingers and up her forearm.
The black belt was coiled around her long, tan fingers, and up her forearm.
When the light poured in, he turned around, momentarily blinding by it sparkling behind her silhouette. He held up a hand to shield his eyes, gritting his teeth before he shifted himself so that less of the sun was prickling at his eyes, and also, so he could get a better holding on his pants.
His heart was beating clean within his ears. Was this for real? Was one of the ladies from the Diamond so adamant as to make chase?
But at her statement of his looks, he dropped his grip on his pants and gasped, cheeks burning red as he lunged down to fetch them, hefting them up as his shirt now billowed open, revealing his bare chest, and the sparkle of a tearshaped jeweled necklace that he wore. ANd it was here, down in this precarious position did he look from the pile of discards then up to her, blue eyes wavering behind a curtain of his red-hair. And he blinked, staring curiously back at the familiar black belt curled like a serpent around her arm.
"Why, I do believe that is my belt," he said, clearing his throat and trying to recompose himself as he stood erect, smoothing back his hair and keeping his other hand as a firm grip upon his pants- his red-bo staff leaning beside one of the two tents he was wedged between.
As his shirt billowed open, Milani recognized the jewel of his necklace to be similar to the one she still wore...the one that had been in the relic. Who was this man that had a bounty on his head (for she recognized the man who had been looking for him as a bounty hunter)? And that seemed to belong a to a mysterious and ancient culture all to his own?
Milani slowly unwound the belt from her arm and fingers. "You look like you've been the victim of a bit of Diamond fun. And don't worry," she said, noting his apprehension, "I'm no Diamond myself, or I wouldn't be giving this back to you." She extended the belt to him for the taking. "My name is Milani Afrithd," she said. "I believe I have something you want."
Seven stared at the belt for a long moment before he sheepishly reached out to take it.
"Er, thanks," he said, still keeping an eye on her before working quickly to fasten the silken clothe back into a belt. Once his pants were secure, he fussed over the rest of his blue, silken attire before smoothing his hands down the cool fabrics and looking up at her.
He probably appeared in stark contrast to the muted, orange colors of the opposing tents on either of his sides, not only because of the bright colors of his clothing, but because of what sorts of clothing he wore. It wasn't common place for silks to be worn on commoners, let alone those int he market, and the type of embroidery and the style it matched was also not common place here.
And well, neither was his red hair as he worked at fixing the last bit of his clothing that had been in dissaray, the blue head band around his forehead,a nd once that was secure, he sighed out a puff of breath through his bangs and looked over at her.
"You can call me, Seven. Seven.. of, er.. of the sea."
"Seven?" Milani repeated. She had heard the stories of a pirate who went by that name... "Are you really the legend?" she purred.
Milani knelt down beside Seven, pleased with the dazzling display of color that he presented with the tents, his silk clothes, and even his hair. It spoke to her of wealth, and that made her smile. She reached out to stroke the collar of his silken shirt, grinning with a greed that many of her lovers had mistaken for a lust or intimacy that had never been there.
"You must be far from home," she crooned. "Maybe I can show you a bit of comfort, something familiar?" And before her words could be entirely misconstrued, she gestured suggestively to the necklace that clung to her skin just below her collar bone. "Do you recognize this?"
As she questioned his name, he merely shrugged.
"Uh.. yeah?"
And then at the way her eyes roamed over his clothes, he grit his teeth, cheeks heating pink. But then as she touched him, he gasped, and a moment later, he would have gasped again, but his breath was already expelled as his lips remained open, and he gaped at the piece of jewelry she wore.
"Where did you get that?"
"That's for me to know," she said coolly. "At least for now." She was pleased that he indeed seemed to recognize it. "Although as a matter of fact it did come by me for much trouble." A half-truth. "I'm not entirely sure if it's worth keeping, as I'm not sure it suits me; and indeed, it may be more trouble to get off my hands that it was coming to them.
"But I know of a black-eyed man and his scoundrels who will take any gold eagerly. They may melt it down of course, and sell the jewels off individually for their own price." She watched Seven like a hawk to gauge his reaction to her words. "Then again, it may be of use to me yet."
Seven wore his emotions plainly, his eyes widening and his skin paling at the idea she was merely going to sell it off to some weasly merchant who would do just as she said and ruin the relic. She had no idea what sort of treasure she was holding, a sacred diamond tear from his goddess, one connected to the nearly invisible, magic laden gems embedded beneath his skin.
"You shouldn't simply sell at item like that," he began, cautious with his words. "You might never know what sort of treasure you found."
Milani nodded slowly. "That's true. And I wonder: would anyone tell me what sort it is? Would you perhaps?" She lifted her chin up with a playful smile.
Seven was taken back by her directness, and backed away, nearly tripping over the fabric of the tent behind him. His cheeks heated as he stilled himself, sweaty hands grasping the sides of either tent.
"Er, what would give you that impression?" he inquired nervously.
He was eager to see another relic of his people survived, but knew well enough not to simply advertise what he knew..
or let alone what true powers he possessed or who he was.
Then again, who would believe he was a lost and forgotten prince of a lost and forgotten kingdom swallowed beneath the ocean?
Milani laughed, finding his openness of expression handy, and perhaps even a little endearing. She took a few steps forward, following him as he backed away. She felt sure that he could tell her what she wanted now.
"Your belt," she said. "Let's just say I've seen that symbol before. Would you like to know where?"
As Milani drew near him, he gasped subtly and backed away again, his knuckles now white as they gripped onto either tent as they swayed beneath his weight. And once her question was posed, he gasped much louder this time as his balance was off set, and down he went, tents and all.
And poor, poor Milani would find her own self buried along with him beneath a sea of orange, wind faded fabric. Seven's hands groped around, desperately seeking an opening when suddenly his head cracked onto something hard.
"Ouch!"
and when he lifted up a flap of fabric, he found himself staring back at Milani. They both trapped within the warm confines of their own, personal 'chaotic tent'.
Milani yelled in surprise as the tents and fabrics swept in around them, momentarily blinded and confused as she tumbled about in a sea of orange . She was knocked off her feet, and as she fell onto her knees she hit her head--against Seven's, judging by his exclamation. She made one of her own, and when she next opened her eyes, she found herself practically on top of Seven.
"You-" she began angrily, both embarrassed and frustrated. "You-" She began again several times, trying to find a word that described just how angry she really was.
"You-" But instead of going off on a tirade to defend her hurt pride, she found herself dissolving into laughter. "You clumsy oaf," she finally said, but there was amusement in her voice. She rubbed her forehead and glanced about them. "Look what you've done."
Seven stared at the woman for a long moment before giving her a blink.
"You know, most think I'm pretty agile, even graceful on my feet," he corrected before giving her a smirk, but a cry from outside made him nearly leap out of his skin.
"My tent! My tent!" a man shrieked. "Who did this!?" he continued to exclaim, hands to his cheeks as he muttered in his own native tongue and made markings to his gods. "By the spirits, this is a catastrophe!" Then noticing the moving lumps, the man stalked forward and yanked the orange tent fabric off the pair of them, and instantly his eyes fell onto the shimmering blue fabrics of Seven's silken robes. But what made his eyes really widen was the gold embroidered '7' on the back. The man gasped.
"YOU!" And he pointed a long finger at Gherrick. "It's you! The notorious pirate, Seven!" then he made the same markings as before and whispered to his gods. "By the sun's sweet graces, the famous criminal is here in Essyrn of all places!" Then he lifted his head and bellowed, "Guards! Guards!" ANd soon a trio of gruff looking men at the end of an ally turned their way. "We have a criminal, the famous pirate, Seven of the Sea!"
Seven's face dropped when he saw the guards narrow their gaze upon him and instantly draw their swords, so he turned to Milani and gave a polite bow.
"Well, it was nice talking to you, but I gotta run." And he didn't waste another minute before dashing away from there, and was soon rounding the bend of one of the many narrow alleys of Essyrn.
Milani returned the smirk. "I think blushing puts you off balance." Then she shook off her amusement. She had business to do. But before she could get herself back on track, she heard the cry from outside.
Milani stared at Seven with sudden dismay and suspicion. Criminal? she thought to herself. Milani didn't like to associate with criminals. They were usually dirt poor and caked with grime, despite her earlier claims. But Seven couldn't be a criminal; he had beautiful silken clothes, and he smelled like the sea, not poverty. But even if he was...Milani weighed the two things in her mind, and decided his having silken clothes were more important.
Jumping to her feet, she watched as the guards stalked towards them across the marketplace, pushing people aside. She neatly rearranged her hair and watched Seven take off, her calm and efficient exterior returning.
"He is quite agile. Hm."
Seven was used to a good chase from guards, but in Essyrn... he was in foreign territory. Though it was funny, having never been to this place before, it was rather interesting to realize his fame had followed him, even to the desert. But he could dwell on that later, for now he had a trio of guards to dodge.
Left, right, then quick ladder up; Gherrick was now crawling along the second tier of many sand stone erected streets of a middle-class housing section of town. And as he passed, gasps and screams could be heard, especially when the guards began to gain on him and Gherrick decided to wonder into some of the houses in attempts to lose the guards, apologizing as he dashed along.
One family was eating dinner, another; an older woman was getting her wigs readjusted, which the stylist accidentally destroyed by cutting off too many inches on one side as the blue-blur of a man rushed passed, then another house, a lovely young lady was bathing, who screamed as the red-haired man was booking it past her. Needless to say, Gherrick's face was red from more than just the exertion of running as he bolted out the back door and began to stumble down the back alley, and found himself along another tiered set of sandstone lipped streets.
Where to now? he wondered as he caught his breath, then with a glance up, he studied the distance between him and the next row of houses, five tiers up. He glanced down at his bow staff, then back up, before making a quick judgement...
and was suddenly catapulting himself across the air, landing precariously on the lipped edging of the top most tiered street. his arms pinwheeled a moment before he balanced himself and looked back down, to where the guards were all growling, several tiers below him, like dogs.
Seven grinned and gave the men a shrug, before disappearing behind the houses above.
Milani found herself standing toe to toe with the tent-owner, who was nearly her same height. He continued his tirade after a big breath and was nearly accosting her when a stranger thrust himself between her and the relentless man.
"You should not speak to her this way," he said coldly. "It is not your place." He was of medium height, and strong in build, with long brown hair and black eyes.
"She knocked over my whole tent! Her and that criminal! That Seven!"
"Clearly she was a victim of that criminal just as much as you were," replied the stranger. His imperious glance and words soon cowed his opponent into submission. He was apologizing for his ill manners when the stranger finally drew Milani away, one strong calloused hand on her forearm.
"Who are you?" Milani asked, pulling her arm from his grip.
"Who are you?" repeated the man, turning to her with a sudden, disturbing smile. "You should ask: Who am I? And I would tell you." He grabbed her forearm once again with an iron grip, and began towing her through the marketplace. "I would tell you: you are mine now."
Milani made no struggle as the man led her through the streets, but held her head up high as if he were a regal escort. But her mind was racing, and before they got where they were going she resolved to hide the relic from this man, who she was sure, was now her new master.
With the guards lost on his trail, Seven could breath a little easier as he wove his way through the streets of Essyrn. There was sure a lot going on today, and the place was about ten times busier, bigger and more crowded then Reajh. He sat upon a roof top, marveling at it's unique beauty, white-washed buildings, bleached from the harsh sun sitting in rows and tiered layers where in the valleys were nests of colorful tents, sights, sounds, people and animals.
Smiling, Seven just let his blue eyes digest the world below, and was surprised to notice a woman below he recognized. He observed her a moment, watching her walk along with a man on her arm with idle interest as he leaned against his red bow staff, temple pressing against it as he sighed, blowing a flop of red hair out of his face.
"I've heard of you," Milani said quietly, composed. "Siyam...you sell Thanati silk for much too high a price, and export spices to Adela. They say you are both cruel and brilliant."
"I am also powerful," said Siyam. "You like power."
"I like wealth," she corrected. To which he responded: "There is no difference."
"I'm surprised Kaulo let me go," Milani murmured. She was eying a stone well that they were approaching in a large courtyard. She knew that it drew water from a cistern deep below the city, 'The Underground Palace,' it was sometimes called. Milani also knew that there was another entrance into the cistern.
When she tuned back into the conversation, Siyam was bragging about how much he'd paid for her--which she found both gratifying and crude. With a final burst of strength, she ripped her arm from out of his grip once more and raced to the well. She tossed the relic from her sari down into the cistern's depths. It flashed gold once in the sunlight before it was gone.
Gherrick hadn't realize he was staring until it was too late, and he found himself witnessing the woman tearing herself away from the other man's grasp as she sped out into a run. He was already on his feet, blue eyes wide as he watched her near the well, and didn't waste another moment as he leaped down from the roof top, landing gracefully into a crouch beside the well. Giving Milani a smirk, he twirled his bow staff but once before positioning himself between her and the man making chase.
"I believe the woman doesn't wish to be in your presence," Seven informed Siyam, not realizing the man now owned the girl.
Milani turned from the well to meet the pirate's smirk. She listened to the echoes of the relic falling, listening for the splash. All the while Siyam's grew red with anger.
"She will be in my presence, whether she wishes it or not," he hissed. "Move aside pirate, before I fetch the guards. She is mine, and she will do as I say and whatever I please..."
Milani sighed. "Maybe you'd better let me handle him," she murmured to Seven.
Yeah, it seemed the man hadn't heard him, so Seven, at her request, gave a nod and bored yawn to Siyam's prattlings.
"I think you didn't hear me, so let me reiterate... She wants you to leave her alone." And that was his last warning before Siyam seemed about ready to burst with rage, and without a second thought- Gherrick's bow staff came down, cracking him across the head before twirling gracefully and then swoop, took him out by sweeping out his feet.
He moved to Milani, taking her hand.
"Come on, let's get out of here!" and he moved to pull her away.