busy busy busy...

[Anonymous]

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Busy.

these streets were busy. people, merchants, children playing and laughing, noise eveywhere around him.

he looked longingly back to the welcome quiet of the country side back through the gates of the city. but he was sick of travelling. of sleeping in trees, and hunting wild game. most of all... he missed having baths.

he looked the scene before him unfold, another person having arrived before him, being bumped into and falling down, only to get up and ask if her young 'accidental assailant' was alright. he smiled some to himself. one nice person in the town... his eyes moved along... merchants were smiling... the children's laughter sounded authentic... hopefully the would be one of the few not to kick him out in a days time, if that if it happened...

he slowly brushed past the woman and half phoenix, a person headed the other way keeping him rather close to them as he avoided them. accidently bumping the half-phoenix, he said a hurried appology, making his way hurriedly into town. the town was friendly enough to look at, but he wasnt really a people person. keeping his head down and eyes darting for signs of an inn.

he would find one soon enough, looking over the name on the sign quietly for a moment, before pushing the door in and letting himself in, he stood beside the door, letting it close and sealing a majority of the hustle and bustle out, leaving him here with just the patrons of the inn, enjoying pints of this and that, friendly looking maids making there way hither and thither serving and taking orders. he slid himself between tables and chairs to the counter and looked to the bear-like man, smiling warmly, as were most inn-keepers, friendly.

"So, whats a young'in' like you doing in here without a parent?" came the voice of the burly man, the boy blushing softly as he looked back to the door a moment before responding.

"looking for a room to spend the night, because he doesnt have parents..." he said, leaving the burly looking man feeling rather stupid.

"sorry lad, didn't know... so what sort of room'll you be looking at?" he asked, regaining the warm air in his aura, the boy relaxed.

"just.. something with a bed, one of the cheaper ones please... and a bath." he said quietly, checking the pouch at his side, scroungings, beggings, the scraps he managed from jobs that hired him long enough to pay him at least once, all the money he had in the world. The Innkeep nodded and smiled lightly.

"Right then... that'll be... 5 a night." he said lightly. the boy blinked, quite cheap from what he was used to, must have been from the mistake earlier, he assumed. The burly man lead him up to his room, showing him in. more over then appologising for his kind-ness, the room looked about worth 5 peices, but, it -did- have a bath and bed. it would do.

[Anonymous]

(OOC; i did leave that one a bit close-ended...)

The bath had taken a half hour to heat.... and again to reheat when the water became dirty from washing... but he was clean by nightfall. sighing releivedly, he smiled, running a hand along his skin. usually dusty to some degree, he looked more tanned then he should... clean, he was a few tones above chalk white.

Redressed and gold counted, he returned to the main room of the inn to do something he hadnt in a long while... eatten a prepared meal. sitting, he got an order from one of the maids, smiling as he asked her for a dish, she smiled, nodding softly and headed off to prepare it.

There were a few eyes on him, that he was aware of. a child, so light in tone and so dark in features was most suspicious in a city like this... or so he guessed. he ignored it, listening to the musics playing, people talking... his eyes closed, this quite tone was tolerable, if not enjoyable, he smiled, relaxing, but still focused on the peaceful noises...

Until there was the sound of shattered dishes... at far off tables, his eyes opened, noting with shock, as peoples' dishes began, at random to fling themselves around, most of them enshroudened in what looked to be clouds... or mist... but far, far darker. his heart caught in his throat.

"Not again!" he pleaded silently to the higher powers, but it was set in motion now. now fueled by his emotions of shock, cutlery too, joined the flying fiasco, sending people yelling and screaming beneath the table to avoid being sliced by flipping steak knives.

"Stay calm... relax..." he thought quietly to himself, gripping the table and breathing hard, the bottles and casks of varying ales and wines creaked and groaned before suddenly rupturing, all the more screaming, before the barkeep looked out from under the bar... he was the only one sitting up... his eyes narrowed.

"YOU! BLOODY MAGE!!!" he bellowed, staggering out, the boy looking up to the man, shaking his head with fright.

"i its not.. i can't! i.. i didnt mean to-" he stuttered, before being grabbed by the shirt and charged to the door, it seemd to open itself, before the barkeep hurled him, as far as he could.

The boy landed with an audible thud and rolled  a few times, stopping and sitting up. it wasnt dust he was covered in now. the commotion in the inn had stopped, his eyes closed, fighting back tears. "Not now... not now.. i wont..." he whimpered quietly, gripping his fists tight. patrons started hurrying out the door and yelling at him, the boy stepping back, his face alight with tears, he turned, and ran into the darkness of the night...

[Tally]

Night has fallen by the time Haven is finished with his work. Almost four hours ago the old grandmother sought him out and all but dragged him to this little wooden shack tucked into a corner of Serendipity's more unfortunate district. A whole family lived in that small square space, bedding down with the fleas and the rats on their dirt floor. It was the old woman's granddaughter who needed healing, lying feverish and pale in one corner. And finally—finally—Haven managed to lift the fever from her and settle her into a rejuvenating sleep. He left the family with herbs to give to her, and they tried to press a few coppers into his hand, but he backed out the splintery door and out into the night.

Month of traveling through villages and offering his services as a mage has taught him nothing so much as faith.  If one family couldn't pay, there would always be someone that could, and if the village was just too poor, they were always willing to give him a place at their table and a dry place to sleep. The gods provide. They always do.

Haven must make his way through the village by memory, scent, and sound alone for his sight is totally gone. A blindfold tied around his eyes hides the ugly acid burns. The tip of his wooden staff goes before him, sweeping back and forth along the ground to keep him from tripping over something or walking into anything, both of which would be rather embarrassing.

His othersight functions just fine, though, and he can feel the hostile glances and furtive looks from the people on the street. They are the kind who slouch in the deeper shadows beneath the buildings, waiting for opportunity to present itself. Very likely it is only Haven's poor appearance and obvious mage's staff that lets him tread the dark streets unmolested.

A sound comes to him, pounding footsteps running in his direction from behind. He tenses, whips his head around, but whoever is running towards him is moving too fast for him to get out of the way, and even as he turns Haven is knocked to the ground. He cracks the back of his skull on the hard-packed dirt and his staff drops from his hand.  After a dazed moment, he shakes his head to clear it. "Ah...I'm sorry. Terribly sorry," he says, for humble apologies have saved him no end of trouble. He tries to pull himself up into a sitting position. "I didn't mean to get in your way. Are you alright?"

[Anonymous]

the night was so dark, his own footsteps echoed off the walls of the buildings surrounding, looming, taunting him, he ran as blindly as the man he was to run into, this city large and confusing, he soon had himself well and truely lost, even in his attempts to flee from mobs of angry patrons.

hurtling down the streets, his eyes were so blurred with tears of fear, so many kinds, of the people hunting him, of himself, of what had happened... he wouldnt see whom he ran into.

He cried out with fright and worry as he went skittling into the floor, wincing as he got up, he eyed the person as he tried to get up, his form once again, if not more then ever, filthy. his eyes spied accross the blindfold... this man was blind... he registered... he let himself calm down. the jeering voices and flickered light of torches were no where to be seen... he was safe.

"i.. i'm t..teribly sorry, sir.. i.. ic ouldnt...s..see where i was.. going.." he managed to choke out, looking around confusedly at these lesser buildings, something of a slum, but regardless, he was still hopelessly lost.

[Tally]

Haven's staff is his power and his eyes; he sees with it, casts his most powerful magic with it, and it amplifies his othersight and gives him some semblance of vision upon the world. He may not need it to work his magic, but the effect is not so important as the perception. Without it he feels helpless. So the first thing he does when he sits up is feel along the ground, trying to find where the staff fell. He hasn't yet been able to enchant it with a finding spell.

But the person who ran into him—a young man judging from his voice—speaks in a half-sob that interrupts Haven's search for his staff and makes him sit back on his heels and tilt his head up toward the source of the voice. With his eyes covered, it is difficult for others to read emotion on his face, but his own voice anounces his concern just as well.

"What's wrong?" he says, reaching a hand out—not far enough to touch but far enough to express his desire to help. His othersight, not sight at all really but a whole other sense entirely, catches a taste of the young man's aura and the hurt radiating from it. Haven rises to his feet. "Are you unwell? What has happened?" As ever, Haven's ver nature demands he help anyone in need. There is that rather tiny and ineffectual voice of suspicion in his mind, but it is far to faint for him to take heed.

[Anonymous]

he blinked as he looked to this person reaching to him, wiping his cheeks quickly, he tried to calm his voice. but he was so sick of it. of every jeering face and call, his trembling form looked to the hand a moment, before his tear-filled gaze took asight of the staff the man had been holding...

Slowly he moved and retrieved it, carefully closing it in the man's grasp once more, before sniffling and hiccoughing slightly, again he wiped his face, shaking softly, but, this person's concern would be about the first he had felt in a long time. really something alien and shocking to him.

But he needed it, he spoke of his problems, his weary travels, the hurtful calls, the angry gazes whenever he passed somewhere where 'it' had happened...

then he went on to tell of 'it.' His own bizarre powers that allowed him stange magicks, but he had no hope of control over them. particularly when his mind was lulled, or he was extremely panicky or upset.

He didnt know why he let himself speak on about it, but someone was listening... this man could not see, but it was this of all people that he unloaded his problems into, his voice slowly draining into something of a croak, like a sore throat after any cry.

[Tally]

((Yikes! I didn't realize it took me so long to respond! Sorry about that!))

The sounds of grieving...they tug at Haven's heart as surely as the actual sight of tears would, and the only way he can convey his concern is through more subtle body language—the tilt of his head, the line of his mouth, the set of his shoulders. But he doesn't say anything yet. He waits to see if the other can find words to say.

Haven interpret's sounds the way others interpret sight, and he hears the shuffle of the young man's feet, the sound of his clothes rubbing against themselves as he moves off to Haven's left. Then the smooth, worn wood of Haven's staff touches his palm and he closes his hand around it with a smile. "Thank you. I —"

But before he can say more, the flood of words comes as this stranger tells his story. A mournful story, one of loneliness and confusion, persecution and pain. Haven stands silent and lets it wash over him, and when it's over he's not sure what to say or do. How long must this shadowworker have been suffering alone for it to all come flooding out like that? It may be a violation of personal boundaries, but Haven follows his first instinct and reaches out with his free hand, drawing the shadowworker into an embrace, the beaded cords tied to his staff clicking together at the slight movement. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry you had to live that way. And I pray the future holds better fortune for you. I'd like to help you, if you'll let me. I know an inn where you can stay the night."

[Anonymous]

*his form almost froze in spot as the form pulled him into an embrace, something for the longest time he hadn't experienced, memories flooding back to him as he was held, sniffling still, leaning in quietly. mentions of an inn brought him back from his slight reprive with sharp dissonance* no..! not an inn... i cant.. stay there... always it happens when i rest... *he says worriedly, looking about as though having heard approaching footsteps of angry patrons come to look for him*

*he looks up towards the blind stranger quietly a moment, amid sniffles, calming down slowly, he could admit himself, that he felt better, so much having flown out of him that he felt lighter, all his worries and pains and sorrows... his mysteries... and this person had listened to them all... another slight undecided shuffling... maybe this person would be enough of a grounding for his emotions that it wouldn't happen... hesitantly, he nodded* ...but... theres no where else really.. to go... so... an inn, it is..

(made me wait for so long taly! bad!)

[Anonymous]

(amanda.. kaikai.. hope you dont mind me joining in...)


Cool, calm surrender followed Evelyn as she walked, her delicate cloven hooves silent on the pavement; milky eyes picking up the shadowed forms of those slightly to her right. Pain. It pierced her skull like a red hot stake and she withheld the urge to whinney in suffering. He was in pain. Distress slithered up her nostrils like ice cold air and this time she did make a sound; a soft nicker was extended in comfort.

Though there were two, only one did she reach out to touch. Her kind felt emotion as strongly as the elves, more so perhaps, though it could not be gauged by any form of measure. Age touched neither race, but emotion was like an arrow through the heart, and it was wondered if this longevity was worth the pure pain of emotion. An emotion felt purely and undiluted, unlike the emotion felt by a mortal.

Long and slender fingers reached out to touch the mage. She was seemingly unawares of all around her except the boy, not even the fact she had disrupted something fazed her.  A soft nicker extended from between her blueberry lips as a gift...

[Tally]

Even after pulling back from the embrace, Haven stands close and keeps on ehand upon the shadowworker's back. Haven's grasp on reality comes mostly from touch and movement, scent and sound, so his habit has become to stand closer, to remain in contact with those around him as much as possible.  He feels so much more at eas with the grounding and comfort that proximity to another person affords.

"All will be well. The innkeeper is a good man. A bit...ah...gruff, but I've known him for some time. I always stay there when I come through Serendipity. I am a mage too, you know. But I suppose thta's obvious." With a little chuckle, Haven taps his staff on the ground, the feathers, beads, and crystals tied around it chiming a brief, pleasant jingle. They all have practical uses, the things he ties around the wooden staff, but they also clearly mark it as a mage's staff and announce his profession to those who don't know him. "I'm Haven."

He hears an odd sound then, and of course he hears it long before one with average senses would. It sounds like faint, delicate hooves upon the hard-packed dirt of the street, but the pattern and manner of the hooffalls is not that of a horse or pony. Haven looks over his shoulder—not to see of course but to focus his othersight in that direction, and the aura he senses approaching is altogether strange and overwhelming. It is a bright and shining soul the likes of which he has never encountered before, and he breaks his contact with the shadowwalker and takes a respectful step back from this approaching and distinctly feminine presence. He clutches both hands to his staff, hesitant.

[Anonymous]

*he looked up as the hand left his shoulder, watching the form move aside, head not facing him, he blinks confused a moment, before looking towards the direction haven does, he gives a jump at the form he sees, a window somewhere behind him shattering in a faint moment of fright, before he calms down, realising the being isnt seeking to kill him.

albeit it is reaching for him, his small form hesitant to go near this new person... if thats what they were. "hello...?" he asked quietly, shrinking away from the hand softly, keeping quite near haven.

[Anonymous]

Soft eyes were seeking the distressed one, long lashes glittering with something inhuman. Gentle human parts melded like fluid with the dapple of her haunches, her only pair of hooves taking another cautious step closer; delicate phalanges gently touching the youthful male's quivering cheek as yet another soft nicker was expressed. Spiralling from her forehead was a horn as long as the femme's arm, the tip flaring with that same soft glow that sprinkled her eyelashes and soft cascading locks of silver and snow white. Gentle and heartbreaking was the look in her eyes. To look into the eyes of a unicorn was to be consumed...

[Tally]

Haven hears the shuffle of feet upon the hard-packed dirt of the street and the whisper of shifting fabric. The air stirs slightly around him. The shadowworker must have moved closer to him, and Haven wants to know why.

He tries to focus directly on this strange newcomer, but her aura is intimidating in its strangeness to him and he turns his face away and toward the shadowworker. That pair of delicate hooves steps closer again. It is not fear Haven feels now, but uncertainty. He doesn't know what is happening and that makes him uneasy. He reaches up and catches hold of the shadowworker's sleeve. "What...what's going on?"

((Gah! SPS!))

[Anonymous]

*giggles at amanda*

Femme reached out and lightly touched the distressed young mage's shirt, and as if by magic it became clean and smelled like roses. As if in a trance Evelyn appeared to be fixiated on the boy, her head tilting in an almost quizzical manner, horn nearly brushing Haven's lock in the process. A whicker of soft, friendly greeting was emitted, and it became apart the woman was mute, except for the language of elves, unicorns and other equines.