RP:Aiya meets Mahri
Aiya rests at ease upon the deck's edge, her feet dangling freely above the cool blue waters below. Tumbles of russet fall to her lithe waist dancing over sun-kissed flesh pinning her as one who spends a great deal of time above deck in the sun's beating rays. From time to time her malachite gaze slides towards the city that Elaih has beset though she cares little for the Carrion's actions. The life of continual piracy, plunder and blood shed no longer held her appeal. It was the ocean she loved and the adventures she'd had upon it that kept her tied to the Gathering and their captain. Thoughts of her sister are pointedly ignored, Aiya preferring to simply dwell on her plans for the future. "I'd enjoy my own ship." She mutters, allowing the dream to surface and take control. If only, the things she could do with such freedom. Eliah used fear to motivate his crew, but it was not the only way. Theirs was a blood-thirsty, gold seeking bunch who did not fear the law or consequence save for Eliah's wrath. A soft sigh slips past parted lips as she slumps slightly. For now the crew were about the town on orders leaving the ship to herself and she would not waste the time alone.
Mahri made no attempt to mask or quiet her boot steps as she walked down the dock. Her own ship is anchored far to the north of here, and while it has been some time since she felt the urge to stock the Illoria and sail her, the lycan did often have the need to remember the feel of salt against her skin. So, it's to the shores and harbor or Cenril she comes. Today, the only ship at the harbor seems to be deserted, so Mahri pays it no mind. Above, Sora circles the lycan. If one should look up, the dragon would seem no more than a speck in the clear sky. Perhaps a bird searching for rising fish to plunder. In her head, Mahri heard the ice-dragon's cool rumble of ~Why can't I go back to Frostmaw? I enjoyed the snow and cold~ The tone was petulant, like a spoiled child's. "Because," the woman mutters--making it look as though she were talking to herself even if the words were being thrust skyward mentally at the same time, "I may need you."
It is in one of those moments when her gaze travels lazily towards Cenril that she spies the Lycan moving towards the seemingly deserted ship though it is odd that the woman speaks to herself while gazing skyward. To each their own, she muses thoughtfully while tracking Mahri's progress. Despite her appearances of being the rough and tumble type, Mahri seemed to be someone who might understand the harder side of things instead of being like most of the women Aiya had stumbled across. Even those petty beings within the Gathering fell to liking frills and lace over the feel of battle and weather worn leather. They tended to prefer the weight of diamonds round their necks than the weight of a blade that fits perfectly in hand. Often times she felt the need to wring their necks with those diamonds. Such frivolous things, why Eliah allowed them to stay was far beyond her reasoning. Save for their uses when the men needed a tumble. "Do you always talk to yourself so?" She calls, drawing attention to where she sits. Nothing about her posture or appearance would give warning to the blades she carries or the magic she wields, it was good to be an illusionist at times.
Mahri cranes her head around, searching for the source of the voice with a rather bland expression. Inside though, she is cursing herself for not being as observant as she should have been. Spying the female, finally spying the elf, Mahri's brows draw together in a frown. There is something vaguely familiar, and unsettling, about the woman. "Only when there ain't nobody else worth talkin' to." Her tone suggests that this stranger wouldn't be worthy. Then again..who is the lycan to judge? Rubbing her gloved hands against her thighs, Mahri tries in vain to increase the feeling in them, hoping the chaffing leather will do the trick. Mostly though, it's to get her right hand closer to the hilt of the dagger strapped to her thigh. Once her hand encounters the resistance of the hilt, her finger will rest upon the plain leather wrappings. Just in case.
Aiya snorts derisively at the Lycan's retort suggesting her own company might be less than satisfactory. It does not escape her vision that the woman has made movements for her dagger, but Aiya does not wish a fight or to draw blood. She simply wishes for someone to talk to that won't spit on her with every other word or smell heavily of liquor and filth. Slender shoulders lift and fall dismissing Mahri's tone for what it might be, aggravation at being disturbed when she believed herself to be alone. Not caring to shout for their entire conversation, Aiya shimmies closer to the edge and then simply drops from where she sits. After many many years of practicing she easily manages to land without breaking bone or jarring her body too greatly. As leather encased feet touch wood her knees bend dropping her body low to the dock so that the shock of landing so solidly rolls off of her skin. Seconds later she stands upright facing the woman, but she does not see anything familiar within the Lycan. She herself, however, might resemble another who is well known and not often liked within Hollow. Despite Arien being her older sister, the darker tones might mask their relationship. Unless Mahri is keener in her musing than Aiya thinks she might be.
Mahri 's eyes narrow, not because she's annoyed or threatened, but because she is rather impressed with the elf's prowess. With a twitch of her lips, the lycan relaxes and gives the other woman a slower visual perusal. "You remind me of someone.." Dismissing the fading comment with a wave of her hand, Mahri strolls back the way she came, closing the distance between herself and Aiya. "Name's Mahri. Up there," she points to the soaring dot above, "is Sora. She's who I was talkin' to." Jerking her head towards the docked ship, Mahri queries, "She yours?"
Aiya glances upwards as Mahri speaks and takes note of the speck that must be Sora. Despite her keen eyesight, she cannot quite make out the dragon's shape or details save for the circling blob. Rubicund lips twitch fondly as her gaze slides towards the ship with Mahri's question only to travel back towards the Lycan. "If only she were. The Enchantress is a lovely ship by far, but she belongs to the Carrion Crow. I go by Raven though I suppose you could call me Aiya. I am second in command only to the Carrion. Still…" Her gaze grows distant for a moment as she considers he joys that having her own ship might bring. "Still. I suppose she'll be docked here for a time. The Gathering has returned and for good, it seems." Her last words are uttered with a sigh of distaste should Mahri care to listen closely. Caring not to openly claim Arien as her sister due to the discord in their relationship she allows the comment to go without comment.
Mahri quirks a brow and tilts her head. Knowing how it feels to own a ship, she can sympathize. "Well, Raven..If you're ever in the mood for a chat or story swap, ye c'n most likely find me at the Barrel in Rynvale, or the Whaler here in Cenril." She had no idea who Carrion is, or was, and thus makes no mention of him (or her).
Aiya inclines her head politely and sensing that the other intends to depart, steps away while taking note of these two locations. Rynvale... it would be Rynvale.