RP:A Muddy Meeting

Summary: Callamyre na Trough and a team of seven were toiling to dredge something from the murky depths of the Gualon swamps when they are happened upon by the vampiric witch, Esyra, claiming to be in search of rare flora. The two vampires transition from tense first impressions to polite pleasantries and piqued curiosities. Each with an obligation to their task, however, the women part ways — for now.

Deeper into the Swamp, Outside Gualon

The air grows thick and heady along a path winding away from the main orc compound. The steady beat of war drums to the north is soon replaced by the clamor of local wildlife, serving to remind orc and human alike that they are never truly alone within the confines of the swamp. Footing begins to grow difficult as the path seemingly dissolves into the murky swamp waters; not even the twisted roots of the banyan trees can guarantee safe passage. The number of sinister creatures watching both from above and below suggests this area is neither well-traveled nor over-hunted. The lack of a clear trail intimates nothing further lies beyond, but then, in the distance, a low rhythmic murmur of chanting can be heard. The ominous intonation grows louder as the swamp waters level off into a clearing.

Callamyre ;; "Steady! Steeeeaaadyyy!" This section of the swamp had been marked off with rope as a team of four maneuvered a pulley system from the banyan trees to hoist something from the murky depths as Professor Callamyre na Trough stood watch and shouted directions as needed. Dressed down for this event, the woman wore a simple black wool dress that had been secured up in places to avoid getting the hem wet but it was no use, layers of wool and silk-trimmed petticoats bore the unmistakable grime of swamp water, and her heeled lace-up boots were covered in mud and muck. Over the skirts, she wore a plain apron which had been partially pinned up too, with a few tools poking out of the pocket. Meanwhile, her hair was the most secure of her ensemble, the chocolate-hued ringlets twisted into a bun high on her head, even if a few rogue curls still managed to escape. "Slowly, please—" Her voice carried beneath the buzz of insects and the slosh of galoshes as her crew pitched and pulled at the ropes with might in unison, one hand over the other as they struggled to lift some unseen weight. Beyond the ropes, about a dozen paces out were three men on guard at even intervals around the makeshift scene, each armored and heavily armed, granting some sliver of peace to the event and keeping the wildlife at bay. "Charleson please be careful—" Beneath the delicate lilt of her voice, Calla's tone betrayed her worry, her hazel-gold eyes fixed raptly on the bubbles that began to rise from the rope that disappeared beneath the water's surface, her bare hands wringing with anticipation.

Esyra || Such a place might ill serve to attract a woman like the one that trod atop these half-sunken roads to make her plodding way deeper into the swamp; and yet, despite the danger evident amongst the muck and grime, and not so far from Orcish lands to feel quite safe alone, Esyra picked a careful path between a pair of banyan trees, muttering a word of thanks beneath her breath for the boots she had mind to purchase. Alas, atop the sucking mud there was little she could do to save the trailing hem of her dress and cloak, which had collected an unpleasant ecosystem of green and brown to decorate the otherwise flawless black. Still, there was little to separate her from the displeasure of swampland travel, and focused thus on task and turmoil, her better senses failed to keep a distance from the evident calling of a woman's voice, heard clearly and now well in sight as Esyra turned about the tree, gaze lifting from its trunk to drink in the strange scene. She had a mind, as was her predilection, to turn about and walk away - and she very nearly did, save that one of the armored men had taken notice of her cloaked and hooded presence. It was unlikely, she reasoned, that she would not be pursued or at least watched, and so adopting a faint smile, as if curiosity had taken hold of an innocent traveler, she offered in her oft melodic tone a somewhat cheerful "Good day!"

Callamyre ;; A bevy of new bubbles rose to the surface, each popping and fizzling with otherworldly acrimony, and suddenly the good doctor gave a sharp, "Halt!" She followed this with a gentler, "Hoooold—" as she held one hand out, palm flat, and took an adventurous step or three closer to the water's edge, deviating from her previous position on solid ground (well, as solid as truly could be found in such an environment) as her boundless curiosity encouraged her forward. The men holding the rope taut through the cantilever paused, muscles rippling with the sheer force needed to both lift and sustain their current position. Calla crept forward another careful step, her boots sinking slowly into the soft earth as her wide eyes scanned the simmering swamp, and she might have stared at the water for several more beats if not for the greeting that suddenly and brightly pierced the tension. "Wha…" A multitude of expressions fluttered over the vampire's freckled facade as her hazel twins slowly lifted toward the direction of the voice, and as she did so, the atmosphere in the area shifted. The guards stood taller, eyes trained on her with a hawk's acumen; the workmen gripped the rope tighter and exchanged uneasy glances. Callamyre spared the briefest of looks toward the workers and then the guard nearest Esyra, a nearly imperceptible nod given the latter. The guard did not advance upon the stranger but one hand did rest purposefully on the hilt of his sword, waiting for any sign from his employer. "Good day indeed," Calla's voice carried low and even as she stepped back and away from the swampy pit from which she hoped to retrieve her mystery prize. Smoothing her hands over her hips, she gathered her skirts to step over the rope barricade and examine the intruder properly. As light filtered through the banyans, the empath recognized the woman from Kelay, and her head tilted a few degrees to one side, expressive brows lifting with thinly-veiled intrigue. "You are terribly far from the road," she stated as though it were obvious. "Are you lost?"

Esyra || And so too did Esyra recognize the other, for bright though it may be to her gloom-accustomed eyes, their pale green gaze suffered little difficultly in discerning the slender visage that had simply popped from place to place in the tavern some days past. The sudden tension inspired a certain unease, an evident discomfort echoed in a shifting posture from the hapless, cheerful traveler to one quite ready to fight or flee as events might require. Still, as if to offer by way of reassuring countenance no ill intent to invade, Esyra returns a bemused response. "Lost, out here? I should hope not - no, I've found this place by herbalist's advice, in that I might procure reagents less common than my purse can afford." A brief pause precedes a more cautiously spoken, "I've not interrupted, have I? You've little to fear from me, a traveler alone in lands passing strange. What business you have here is none of my own, save you choose to share it - which I've a distinct feeling you'd rather not." And here, a smile, faint but warm, yet not quite reaching her eyes. There appeared no evident presence of weaponry beneath her cloak, which served well to hide away aught else that might be gleaned upon her person, but that was no promise of safety, and Esyra made motion as if to disarm those doubts that concealment could inspire by lifting a hand to part the cloak further in a gesture towards the town. "Shall I just…move along, then?"

Callamyre's brows rose higher, her head tilt angled further, and she stood perfectly still, considering. Debating. Supposing and wondering. She knew she'd been gone from these lands long enough that there were bound to be a multitude of unfamiliar faces upon her recent return. Still, the vampire was, if nothing else, awkward to a fault and there was a meager morsel of herself that very much wanted to bolt quite abruptly from the unfolding scene. Dare she? Not yet, anyhow. For now, an uncomfortable smile ghosted her bow-shaped lips, the very corner of her mouth twitching and coaxing a dimple to wink now and again. "Interrupted? No, no, certainly n— Well, yes, but it's not— That is to say—" Anxiety welled up in her like an angry geyser, and she felt very much like she'd been caught doing something wrong. Was she? It was all … perfectly legal, she told herself. Nevertheless, she felt keenly aware that she must be on her guard, finding herself in a situation she had hoped to avoid by coming out so far in the first place. She exchanged a glance askew with the guard positioned nearest her, reassured by his steadfast presence, and the unsettled alignment of her smile softened into reserved appreciation. Fixing her hazel eyes upon the newcomer fully, Callamyre ventured forward a pace and did not bother to disguise her scrutiny of Esyra's person from head to toe, noting each twist of thread, every adjustment of her posture. In the end, she chose to go out on a limb with earnest intentions: "What reagents do you seek? Perhaps I might be of assistance."

Esyra || And here, a curious tilt of her head shifts the hood that had since fallen back, now slipping free to pool about her shoulders much akin to the wave of dark hair that found itself no longer bound beneath the voluminous silk. Was it intentional? Possibly, for the other's intense scan was difficult to miss, and readily met by Esyra's own. But here, thank the gods, was an olive branch extended - one this particular vampire was in no rush to deny - and though she would have preferred the solitude she had previously expected, fain she posed to accept the nervous woman's aid. "I fear you've not the time to aid, for my search requires two rare components rumored here to be found. A spear-leafed flower, and the fruit it produces, silver-white in hue, with a scent of citrus and of warm disposition - a magnolia, by name. And second, another flower, but color plays a critical role in that it must be of blue variety…this, a lotus flower." Here, Esyra pauses to discern recognition; these two paired were oft chosen for their relaxing qualities, and readily brewed to reduce potent anxiety. By way of demonstration, should no command echo across the span of swamp between them to dissuade the motion, she reaches into a soft leather pouch, the middle of a set of three hanging along a silver loop, to produce a single time-worn lotus leaf. "This, though whole, and blue instead of this soft white. The rarest, I fear, alongside the purple variant."

Callamyre ;; That uncertain smile softened again, this time with a confident curl as her hazel eyes seemed to light up. Her enigmatic quarry lay hidden under the murky waters mere yards behind her, yet Esyra presented a new challenge — one that the academic visibly struggled not to accept. She shifted her weight from one mud-caked boot to the other, as if each adjustment was the equivalent of her flipping or flopping on some decision in her labyrinthine mind. "Magnolias, you say? And lotuses?" Indeed the search for such flora would take the arcanobiologist away from her task, but a renewed giddiness had made its way into her bones. "Oh I daresay you shan't find them in this part of the swamp — yet farther north—" Callamyre cut herself off, eyes unfocused as she lifted a finger, discerning the aforementioned direction. "Yes, north-northeast you'll find the lotus you seek, although the magnolias…" She paused again, her thoughts bounding around, eyes scanning the space immediately before her. Running her tongue across the rose-hued pout of her lips, she thereafter pressed her lips into a thoughtful pucker and nodded decisively. "You may have better luck much farther east towards the plains." The woman's sharp gaze homed in on Esyra as though seeing her for the first time, and she subconsciously took a step toward her. "I do not believe I caught your name the other night."

Esyra || Whatever Esyra might have expected from the passing strange individual she found herself at odds with, the sudden shift in the slight woman's demeanor was far from any prediction she could have made. Whether or not apparent, and like as not no human would discern the relax in posture from this distance, she offered in turn a smile more genuine than aught previously offered, and at the slight parting of her lips the barest glint of two ivory fangs might be seen by one with sight beyond mortalkind. Here, she gestures by polite nod her thanks, along with, "Esyra Del'avor, of lands far removed from this curious continent. Nor did I catch yours, save by another's calling of what I can only assume to be a casual affectation, thus was it spoken. 'Calla', if I recall?" Returning the leaf to its pouch, the strangest of thoughts played havoc with her propensity for solitude - here may well be an invitation, one by which she might stand to save much time and, better still, make another connection that might serve to benefit her practice. And so did she formalize it, expecting full well to be turned down, with an earnest, "Though I see you've work here to attend, or such would all this imply," she motions with a slight movement of her chin to the assembly of workers and guards, "you are welcome to join my search, in hopes two might succeed where one flounders."

Callamyre lowered her chin in a regal nod in acknowledgment of the formalities now passed between them. "Well-met, Esyra Del'avor, of lands far removed." The good doctor's smile blossomed a few degrees, but there was a sharp, excitable edge to it now. Was it the fangs she saw? Surely not, seeing as the woman held no particular love for her kind; perhaps it was related to whatever adventure she was undertaking in these dark wetlands. "Doctor Callamyre na Trough," she politely replied, "of lands also far removed." Indeed her accent curled around certain letters like a subtle fragrance. "Although 'Calla' does suffice." The corner of Calla's mouth twitched with tempered mirth, her warm hazel eyes alight with energy. "Work? Work! Yes, yes you are absolutely correct—" Ah, Callamyre had found herself in quite the predicament; she twisted 'round to partially face the rope-encircled area from whence she had come, tugging on the fingers of one hand with those of the other. "What I mean to say is— that is to say— " She slowly drew in a steadying breath before flashing Esyra an earnest and apologetic smile that was assuredly lop-sided. "I really ought to attend to this, uh … this situation." A sidelong glance revealed the pit to still be bubbling around the rope, and she inwardly cursed, knowing there was a limited timeframe to accomplish her mission. "Well … I mean, my directions should, uh— I trust you are quite capable of finding the flora you seek now. That is … I am afraid I cannot offer my assistance in that way, directly, at this precise moment."

Esyra || "No, of course not. Let me not distract from your work - 'tis clear it is important. Why else might you be found amongst such company so...ah, how did you put it...terribly far from the road," Esyra replies, her lilting tone dancing the line between respectful and teasing. In gracious manner she offers a strange gesture, something akin to an outstretched hand turned palm up, and though the smile fades, the calm warmth remains in her voice. "I wish you well, and perhaps should I complete my task ere long, before you chance to depart, would hope to meet again that I might share the fruit of my endeavors." Though her phrasing struck odd, there posed a certain melody to its structure, as if in, or perhaps despite, its odd composition a deeper meaning lay buried beneath the surface. Should Calla offer a farewell in turn, Esyra would reply with a softspoken, "Blessings to you, Calla," else the witch turns about to head far eastward as suggested.