In With the Storm

[Anonymous]

Miria had troubled closing the heavy wooden door against the wind.  Sleet!  So far down the mountains, and on the leeward side.  It made little sense.  She shook it from her plain brown cloak, looked around the tavern.  The men all bore dirty faces and lean bodies, the women either portly or scrawny with none in-between, even a few children hung about, snotty nosed.  Miria sneered beneath her hood; the lower class annoyed her, and yet she felt some degree of sympathy for these particular people.  The men seemed miners, by their state of grittiness, and she’d heard stories of mining towns in these mountains.  By no means were they happy places to live.

Miria brushed away a little sleet from one shoulder then approached the bar.  Only there did she lower her hood, then hefted the hard, rectangular case she carried onto it in front of the tender.

“Sir,â€? she began, and knew that her mannerisms and language were out of place by the expression he gave her.  â€œI am in need of a meal, yet I find myself lacking money.  I wonder if I might ply my trade for you in place of it?â€?  Then she opened the case and revealed the shapely, expensive instrument inside.

The man whistled.  â€œSing for yer supper, eh?â€?

Miria did not realize the question had been rhetorical until after she said, “Well, I don’t sing very well, sir, but I play decently.�

He grinned, leaned forward, and she closed the case, pulled it close to her, realized how paranoid and offensive the movement would seem.  â€œI’ll tell you,â€? he said, “you can try, and if the music’s good enough, at the end of the night, we’ll see about a meal.â€?

Miria did not like the arrangement one bit, as it guaranteed nothing, and she suspected the barkeep would stiff her of the meal if he could, even if she gave the performance of a lifetime.  She decided then and there he would get no such thing; she would only play as best she dared, and had no other options, it seemed, with the hour growing late.  â€œThank you, sir.â€?

She went across the room, close to the very small fireplace, and as the case took up both hands at the moment, drew a chair away from an empty table with one foot, only <I>then</I> thought of putting the case down to remove her cloak.  She finally opened the case, removed dulcimer and hammers, and sat down to play.

[Anonymous]

Sovei hated the cold. He hated, hated, hated it. In fact, he thought, if it were up to him, he'd put all those mages and whatnot to work in making it never, ever be cold. Anywhere.

So when he at last saw a tavern up ahead, he felt a flicker of hope in his chest, certain that the said tavern would be much warmer than the outside. He opened the door and then flung himself against it on the inside in order to close it against the wind. "Whew!" he said, letting out a long breath before realizing there was a girl playing some instrument... maybe a dulcimer? He wasn't sure.

Nor did he particularly care. Nicely aware that his bright blue hair stood out in the crowd of ... well... dirty, muddy people, he sat at the bar and ordered, "Barkeep! A large tankard of your strongest ale!" Upon the barman's raised eyebrow, Sovei flushed and muttered, "Just a beer. Please." He put the coins on the bar and turned his face toward the musician. "Didn't realize you guys had a music accompaniment in a bar," he said appreciatively. "She's pretty good."

"We don't," the barman drawled. "She's gonna play fer her supper." A smirk spread across his face.

"Oh," Sovei responded. Catching the smirk, he repeated, "Oh. You mean, you aren't going to really give her anything?"

The barkeep hastily stood up straight, cleaning the counter where his elbows had rested a moment before. "Ain't said no such thing," he said in a businesslike tone.

"Well, uh..." Sovei rifled through his bag. "Here's some more coin, I'll just pay for it. So after she finishes, you give her what she wants, okay? If it's more than that, just bill me for it. She looks like she could use a good meal," he added thoughtfully. The electric-blue-haired man stood to his feet, picking up his mug and sat closer to the fire, closing his eyes in enjoyment of the warmth. [/i]

[Anonymous]

Miria let the music carry her off from her surroundings into quiet meditation.  The music started as something that might be familiar to the miners, a folk song, then into a more formal song popular in Connlaoth that carried similar themes, finally degraded into a different popular song, back into folk music, and slowly began to twist into something new.  This was a song about woods, Miria decided.  Woods in the mountains and streams and animals; it sounded as much like it as she could manage, taking form from the few good things she had seen in her trip over.

The night drew on.  She failed to notice the comings and goings of the people, and finally the  music came back to the song about woods, and ended in gentle tones.  The weather outside had cleared as she played, the snow tapering to an eventual end.  It seemed the miners decided to take advantage of the lull in poor weather and began to leave reluctantly; Miria only came back to her surroundings then.

She had grown a little too warm by the fire, but it was better than being cold.  With many of the miners leaving, the nearest person was now a man with blue hair, seeming intent on remaining still, eyes closed, quiet.  When she looked his way, the barkeep gave her a pointed look that seemed to suggest she should wrap things up, so Miria began again to play a quiet tune, restful, carrying elements of familiar lullabyes but wrapped in a much more mature sound, and it was the last song she intended to play.

[Anonymous]

Sovei had very nearly fallen asleep in front of the fire when the music, which gentle and a little reminiscent of the old lullabyes his mother had sung for him when he was a child, faded away and ceased. He opened his brown eyes a trifle unwillingly and looked over at the girl, whose fingers had ceased playing the instrument. She seemed so much more... dignified than the other patrons, as though she had been born to a higher status than the one she currently held, as the musician in a tavern.

He turned his glance to the barkeep and nodded firmly, signaling that yes, indeed, Sovei did remember paying for the girl's meal and if he didn't give it to her, Bad Things Would Happen. What those bad things were, however, even Sovei didn't know. He hoped something would come to him if the need arose.

Luckily, the need did not arise, and the barkeep nodded back, calling out, "When yer ready, girl, I have some food waitin'."

Sovei smiled and cleared his throat a little awkwardly and said, "That was some really nice music there. Where'd you learn that?"

((Short Post Syndrome))

[Anonymous]

Miria had not expected much direct interest from the patrons.  And this man certainly did not look like he belonged: tall, strangely colored hair, looking vaguely like the few adventurers she had seen from afar in Reajh.  She felt very small and much like a child, seated as she was, and it miffed her, so she sat all the straighter, more proper, and knew she herself must seem out of place, but did not care; she was superior to these people, or had recently been.

But the man complimented her music, simple as it was; she would not be obviously rude.  "Many of the songs I was taught in Reajh; a few of them have never been played before."  And then the thought of him being an adventurer piqued her curiosity as Miria remembered trading stories about the more handsome of adventurers known to Connlaoth among friends, and the prospect of having a live adventurer here capable of telling stories excited her.  It would be unbecoming to show too much interest, though, and so she politely queried, "You do not seem to be from here.  Might I ask, if it's not offensive to you, who you are and what brings you here?"

[Anonymous]

Sovei raised his eyebrows and, mistakenly thinking that the girl was trying to indicate something about his posture, sat up as straight and regally as he could. "Um, well, my name is Sovei - Sovei," he repeated more firmly, deciding not to share his last name. "And I'm on an adventure," he said dramatically. "What about you?" the man asked casually, taking a swig of his ale and choking on it a little. "I'm fine," he rasped. "Happens all the time."

After he'd recovered, Sovei cleared his throat and continued, "Sorry - what was your name?"

((arrrgh, sorry about the SPS and the billion years between posts))

[Anonymous]

Miria smiled at what she thought was an attempt to match poise--it amused her.  And this would be the first time she got to use her fanciful tale, one spun in her solitude and so outlandish as to be believable.

"I am Miria Bruelle, lately of Reajh.  I am on a journey over the mountains to Arca, having recently escaped a cruel adoptive family, to seek my lover, who passed there shortly before the death of my natural family."  A gentle smile, the faintest hint of blush--it all added to the sincerity.  "I suppose that is too much information, though.  But about you--an adventure!  That sounds terribly thrilling.  Might I ask you to elaborate without seeming to pry?"

[Anonymous]

The man raised his eyebrows sympathetically at her tale, and then decided that his story would be a bit of a letdown after that, so he tried to think of ways to one-up Miria's without actually lying. Sovei closed his eyes and let out a mournful sigh while his mind raced.

"I, too, have recently escaped a cruel family, only they didn't adopt me, I was their real kid. I mean, not that you weren't real or - well, never mind. I was beaten and downtrod and forced to do chores and then I - at last - found true love in my neighbor's daughter. She had beautiful raven hair and - uh, sparkling emerald - no, uh, bl - sapphire eyes, and a laugh that tinkled - like bells, not like - uh, never mind," Sovei interrupted himself with a slight blush. He reminded himself that he was in the presence of a lady.

"Anyway, I was madly in love with her," he continued, forgetting to embellish, and falling into his natural storytelling pose, "and we were going to get married, probably, but then some bastard swept in and stole her from me. So my da gave me a bonus for all the work I'd done for him and said I could go do stuff on my own. I packed up my stuff," he indicated his rucksack, "and took off. I think I'm heading toward an ocean or something, but I'm not sure. I'm from a village in Adela, about a week's travel from here, actually. I'm trying to find this thing - I forget what it's called, I wrote it down somewhere - but anyway, my girlfrien - lover, I mean, really wanted it, it's a kind of starfish thing that has jewels that grow on the ends of its ... points. Fins? Whatever. Anyway, I figure if I bring it back to her, there's no way she'll stay with that bastard," Sovei finished. "I haven't really had any adventures yet, but... I'm sure I will soon. Pretty sure."

The Adela native pushed an electric blue lock of hair out of his face, and smiled openly at the girl. "You have any idea where your boyf - lover is?" His brown eyes were warm, kind, and very naive.

[Anonymous]

Miria paid attention to the story, of course, nodded in the right places, smiled and frowned appropriately, but wasn't really in it.

"I suppose, since he came to Serendipity, that Arca is as good a place as any to start looking.  Surely there may be some record of his passing through, and if not, perhaps someone can direct me to better information."  Miria made a point of looking thoughtful, then said, "Our meeting can be nothing less than fate.  Here we are, two souls searching for lovers lost, and by chance we encounter each other.  We must be meant to assist each other."

It ocurred to Miria that she would gain little by outright using the man.  Sovei seemed nice enough; she could attempt at least cursory assistance in his self-appointed mission, then perhaps he wouldn't be so adverse to hearing the truth of her story, would forgive her lying.  "Perhaps, if we are heading in the same direction, we should accompany each other."  She began to put up her instrument, then said, "but now the night is drawing late; you look as weary as I feel."