RP:Bee-Trap-Queen
Summary: Irenic meets someone new and he thinks her name is Mallard.
Meadow
A path runs through this meadow from the merchant's corner and then turns west. You're sure that it would save time for the path to just cut straight west, but the maker of this dirt road obviously wanted travelers to see this serene place. Long, soft grass and wildflowers invite you to lie down here and enjoy the peace and quiet of this place. Bees hum from flower to flower, collecting the sweet nectar, and unknowingly the means to create the plants' offspring. This meadow shows how dignified and simple life can be sometimes, and you feel the need to ponder your own existence in this world called Hollow. To your west, you see a path leading into the hills, while to your north you can see a building.
A Ray of Light Leading Upwards is here.
Mallory is hauling a rustic orange pack on her back—Sven only knows what is inside, but it looks weighty. Her hair is pinned in several places creating a messy lowdo, strands falling in her face from a day's work with her father Jonik. He left before she. However, she lingers off the path with distraction. A jar in hand and smokey eyes darted down at a fuzzy bumble bee on a teasel—gathering nectar. Mal is careful, Mal is silent except the rustle of wildflowers and tall grass. Eventually, she kneels and clasps the jar and lid together to capture the little bumble bee that is now fighting. “It’s okay, calm, calm,” she feels the confusion from such a small insect. The half elf might have been strange. “We’ll be home soon.”
Irenic descends down by the light which abducts those traveling to the floating city. He is internally frustrated, wingless and always missing being able to fly wherever he pleases whenever he pleases. By a glance one might misplace him as a really tall half-elf or something, but if one paid attention the height, tattoos and elongated pointy ears would give him away as an Avian. A deep breath given as one silver eye glances at the woman catching a bumblebee causing a scarred brow to quirk at her, but he's met stranger people before. Once she secured the insect his gruff low timbre offers, “careful, someone might think you're catching that for a potion,” it was sort of a sarcastic joke, but half serious. Witches are currently a sour topic by influence of Larket.
Mallory is startled briefly as she turned off her surrounding senses due to the avoidance of emotional presence. The woman does not look up as the man makes his (shed of light on the truth) comment. She stares at the bee that crawls on the glass. “Must be for something sweet then,” her humor was almost dry, but she made a joke. She then stands up with unsteady legs due to the pack, and rests her silken gaze on the… half elf? “Honey,” she starts as if calling him that, but she lets it drag awkwardly until uttering the next words. “Beekeeping. Farm. For a friend,” she meant no harm, but she liked to play with her words for emotions. Consider the switch to her empathic surroundings ‘on’.
Irenic is able to look bored while his thoughts stirr. First is hearing her initial joke and a low short chuckle emits, but when she covers for what she's doing he felt a little more intrigue. He fell for a witch once, but doesn't remember that and when she seemed to call him ‘honey’ it went unnoticed or maybe women(one night stands) call him that all the time so he's used to it. “Hm, beekeeping. Making honey…. with bumblebees. Lucky friend.” The floating city was far above them, but when he glanced up to see the vacant skies she could probably pick up on the longing to take back up with the clouds. If the bee-trapper meanders closer she will be able to pick up her favorite scent coming off him, famous Avian trait. “Luckily I don't have wings anymore. You're quite the trap,” he points out the trapped bee; yeah he can play that game, too.
Mallory cannot see past his thoughts, her ability not that strong (thank the genetics), although she does catch the chuckle. “The luckiest. My friend does call me a ‘lucky charm’.” As he looks up at the clouds, her eyes follow his and she senses a struggle. His words might catch her slightly off guard and she adjusts her pack and it makes her take a step. The scent wafts off of him. Sky… she stares at him, taller than the average half elf. She studied her races. Avian. No wings. Struggle (bingo), also flirtatious (maybe). Mal is careful. “You might be snatched in a beat,” she makes another dry but sly joke. Cautious with her tones and expressions for the meantime. “Unfortunately, I don’t know what you would give my friend in return, or me in that matter. You might just be no good.” A beat. “What’s your business?”
Irenic shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks after his hand ran through his graying hair and a devious sort of smirk spreads across scarred lips revealing white, but crowded teeth. “Ah, I’d probably give nothing but trouble. Yeah no good. I'm all wrinkled and scarred up, useless,” his degrading himself didn't change his confidence and his sarcastic way of joking pairing with her own. His one silver eye looks her up and down, the orange knapsack while the other eye was under a leather eye-patch, obviously no good. “My business? Just passing through, on my way to Gualon,” which was vague enough. “I have questionable business,” also vague. “You?”
Mallory did think the eyepatch was kind of sketchy, but who was she to judge? She smiles slightly at his confidence. Finally, a source of emotion radiating from the mellowed woman. “Could’ve just stuck with on my way to Gualon. Now, I am curious about your ‘questionable’ life.” She slides the knapsack off her back and puts the jar in a side slot before throwing the bag back over her shoulder. “But as for me,” she breathes out. “If such a Mystery Man needs to know, I just got off of the merchant’s corner. Headed back to my family’s home to drop off a few extra things and then headed towards Cenril-ish,” she shrugs.
Irenic watches her heave the heavy pack on her shoulders and he puts his hand out in order to ask to carry it without actually asking. “You shouldn't be curious, it's what kills cats, right?” He grimaces, “mystery man? Isn't mystery just a fancy word for boring? Just call me Irenic,” he thinks of the way from here to Cenril, “on foot?” Another quirk of his brow and he's learning that he really detests walking. An Avian with their wings ripped from them is never something to be taken lightly, this usually means they have done something outrageous, vile and ugly. “The entrance into Gualon is halfway there, you aren't lugging this all the way there are you?” He motions to the orange knapsack, “a gentle little damsel like you would crush under such pressure.” He was flat out teasing her now.
Mallory blinks as he extends his offering hand. Well, he offered, and she is not one of those “independent women” (well to an extent). She slings the pack off of her shoulder and into his hand. Feels like rocks, but he seems macho. “Irenic seems better than Mystery Man. Pleasure, I’m sure,” she breathes out again after the pack is off her back. “I’m Mallory,” she adds. She does not understand why he does not have wings though. “Yes, on foot,” she nods firmly and with confidence. She then frowns as he teases her. “Damsel? No, I don’t do damsel, but if you’re willing to help and sweep me off my feet because I can be lazy,” she grinned playfully. “But I’m dropping off some of the heaviness to my father, the rest goes with me back to Cenril. Besides, I’m stronger than you think,” she smirks.
Irenic slings the pack over one shoulder quite easily, I mean nearly seven foot and he still has that ‘knightly’ athletic build, but Avians are a typically powerful race. When she says it was a pleasure to meet him, or does she mean for him to meet her? Either way he mentions, “something like that.” He nods once at her name and motions for her to lead the way, “off we go, Mallard.” He gets her name wrong as he does with everyone and it's not clear as to whether it was accidental or purposeful prickness. He scoffs, “that's such a long walk. Probably going to stop off at an Inn for a night then,” it's what he would do. “That walk takes two days… Especially for short people like you.” Almost everyone is short to him. “Oh yeah? Well, I'll believe it when I see it,” is all he remarks about her strength. With one of his hands grasping around the backpack strap she can see one of the tattoo patterns on that arm disappearing into the rolled up sleeve of his black button up shirt.
Mallory does not notice his standoff behavior, until he calls her ‘Mallard’. “Do I look like a duck to you?” A little sassy on the edges. “Do you think I don’t know it takes two days? I walk this every other week. Seems like you’re a little lazy on your feet, huh?” The girl begins to walk backwards while facing him. “So that means someone will have to spend a little more time with me, if they’re intrigued to find me,” she slyly smirks. “In the meantime, let’s get to walkin’ you ol’ timer.” He sounded like one, not to mention the grey hair. She was not shy anymore. She looks at his ink, but she saves that for later. Curiosity would kill this cat if she asked him anymore questions now. For now, she would force him to start their mini journey.