RP:Clouds for My Troubles

Synopsis: Aira, antsy with her lack of involvement in aiding the return of Hildegarde to Frostmaw, finds herself meandering throughout Larket after hearing whispers of unrest. Upon her arrival in the town square, she stumbles upon a curious hermit where the two exchange wit and strike up a (possible) deal.

Larket Town Square

Mihael had been seated by the board. His hat is tilted forward obscuring his face. Not that it did much good, he always wore the mask. Ink blots upon it moved about as if playing out a scene from some ancient battle. Smoke rises from under the brim of the hat as he gently puffs from the pipe clenched tightly between his teeth. Across his lap lies a bow with an arrow already notched. Chains lay about the man in a wide manner due to the length of the strange black and gold metal. The ancient lycan remains silent in his thoughts, waiting to see if anyone should come to fight the coming battles for Larket.

Aira had heard of the troubles in Larket thanks to whispers shared within the taverns. She wasn’t particularly sympathetic to their plight, knowing full well who was leading the fight against the fermin. Still, lack of movement in taking back Frostmaw had the huntress antsy. Why not take a look and see if she could shoot something? She might even be able to run into the witch and pick a fight with her. With that lingering thought, Aira saunters into the main square; a quiver of arrows slung on her back while her bow was pulled over her body, the string cutting between her breasts. Worn, untied boots carry her to the public board where copper irises scan the pinned notices. Out of her peripheral vision, she spots a curious being seated nearby, but makes no move to make an introduction or get a better look. For now, she was simply focused on her task.

Mihael continues to puff on his pipe, the smoke clouds rise slowly giving off the aroma of strawberries. A voice, or rather voices, speak up from nowhere and talk in unison. Their tones ranging from high to low, happy to angry. "What brings you here?" they say while the old hermit remains still. "Have you come to fight?" It becomes evident after a few seconds that the voices are coming from the man himself. Crimson orbs glow from behind the mask as he opens his eyes and glances in the direction of the stranger. The smoke turns red from the glow of his eyes.

Aira finally cants her head to the side, peering down at the curious man with many voices. The huntress’s unblinking metallic stare focuses on the smoke that billows around the man before she twists her body, leaning her bare shoulder against the board. A hand comes up to brush the sheared away locks above her left tapered ear idly. Whether she is intimidated by the man’s appearance or frightened by the range of voices that seem to come from his singular mouth, she makes no indication. “Not for Larket,” she finally answers, crossing her arms over her chest.

Mihael chuckles to himself, rising slowly to his feet. "Then why did you come?" he asks while his hands moved quickly and aimed the arrow for her head. "Did you come to harm the people here? To claim this city as your own? If so you made a grave mistake." The hermit kept his gaze locked upon her despite blowing smoke which hovered about his face. He did not move, did not breathe, the man swore to rid Larket of the infestation and protect the people. He would not have strangers come and try to harm the city.

Aira lofts her brows as Mihael stands and aims his arrow at her head. She does not cower, does not even flinch. Instead, the young huntress merely smirks, an amused expression finding itself in her features. A small hand comes out to swat at the arrow. “I have no desire to claim Larket as my own. I have a home and it certainly isn’t here,” she sneers back. “And I only harm those who deserve it. There is only one I wish to fight in this town, a battle she, herself, instigated, but she is avoiding me.” Aira gives a bored sort of shrug. “Ah well, I will tick that off as a victory in my book, cowardice does not win you points.”

Mihael lets out a sigh and lowers the bow slightly, the arrow still pointed at her heart instead of her eye socket. "You speak of the witch don't you?" He shakes his head from side to side. "She refuses to submit, the hard headed woman. Even after I took it easy on her and defeated her." A long sigh escapes his lips. "She is healing the sick, thus I cannot allow you to harm her, even if she is annoying at times." His arrow lowers but his gaze remains. he says nothing for a moment before he literally plops down on the ground with a thump. "Sit." he says motioning to the ground before him.

Aira narrows her eyes slightly. “Indeed, the witch,” she agrees with distaste in her tone. Aira wasn’t ignorant enough to know that Artia’s skills of healing were invaluable. Still, she loathed the woman and avoided her at all costs. Copper eyes drop to the ground as the man plops down before indicating the ground beside him, in invitation. She remains unmoving for a moment before folding her long legs under her lithe body and sitting cross legged beside the man. She reaches up to tug her own bow off of her body, resting it in her lap. “I am not actively seeking her out,” she amends her previous statement. ‘But if she starts with me I will fight back,’ she thinks silently to herself.

Mihael claps his hands together and smiles lifting the hat back he reveals the mask that covers his face. "Glad to hear it!" he says regarding her not seeking Artia out, not that he cared much, he just wanted Larket safe again. "Beat her all you like, kill her though and you put the people at stake, which means you put your own life at risk." This was not a threat, more like a humble warning. His eyes scan her bow as she lays it upon her lap. "You make it yourself?" he asks pointing to the weapon.

Aira cannot help the small smirk that plays on her full lips, a small chuckle echoing somewhere in the base of her throat. “Ah, well, I don’t make it a habit of killing people.” A pause, as her copper eyes lift to Mihael’s masked face, “My friend would be most upset if she found out I killed her first love, even if she is a--” The huntress quickly clears her throat, letting her thought fade away. His question of her bow drags her eyes down to the weapon in her lap; slender fingers run along wood. “Wish I did,” she muses. “I only make arrows at this point.”

Mihael raises a brow, in doing so the ink blots form a crooked smile and imitate the lofted brow. "Your friend?...First love?..." He doesn't quite press the issue just yet. Taking a puff he replies, "Good because I could use more custom shafts. Meanwhile I search for the bow of my peoples, my bow." He lets out a sigh, drawing a bow in the smoke before waving it away. "What did you mean earlier about a friend and killing a first love?" he asks quickly changing the subject.

Aira shifts, extending her long legs out in front of her and leaning back on her hands. The longer locks of her platinum hair cascade down to her back. She studies the man curiously, his declaration at needing custom shafts drawing a scoff from the huntress. “Is that so?” She drawls in response. His change of subject draws an arch of her pale brow once more. “The witch,” she explains, “She is my friend’s first love, at least, here in these lands. Despite the fact her heart was broken, I’m sure she would be upset to find out I slayed her.”

Mihael catches the scoff and smirks, "Would placing an order be such a bad thing?" his voices became less hostile and more of a smooth tone than they already were. "Who might this person be?" he asks her while puffing upon the pipe and manipulating the smoke to form a live feed map of the city. He quickly checks it before waving it away. "If you hate the witch, would you fight for the people of Larket?" he asks curiously.

Aira smiles and slowly lifts her metallic eyes towards the heavens. “No placing an order is not a bad thing. It was more of a ‘what am I going to get out of the deal’ type of noise.” When he questions who the person is, she inclines her chin down once more to look upon the masked face, a half smile tugging on the corner of her lips. “Ah, well, does her name really matter?” She asks in a singsong voice. When Mihael brings up saving the people of Larket she audibly laughs. “I’m already trying to save Frostmaw, and now you want me to help Larket as well? I am only one elf, you know.”

Mihael tilts his head in curiosity, "What is it you want?" His voices match her sing song voice as he speaks. "What does the elfess seek to attain from a man such as myself?" The hermit grins and puffs upon the pipe, allowing a few small clouds to exit. "I am but one man and still seek to take on all of the fermin. Should others join so be it. It only takes one person to make a difference. One person to sway a war...." he trails off and the mask forms an ink tear before it drops and splatters upon the smile still upon it. Once it does so the whole mask goes black and only his glowing red hues are visible behind the mask.

Aira considers Mihael’s question of what she would like in exchange for some arrows. Gold would be the most obvious answer, but that was not something the huntress held in high regard. She had grown up wealthy, and it did nothing but ruin her life. “Knowledge,” she finally answers with a curt nod. “You want arrows, I want knowledge worth my while,” she says with a coy grin. At the mention of war that smile dissipates into a more blank expression. “I am no stranger to war,” she says rather bluntly, crossing her ankles as she watches his mask change. “Who are you, anyway?”

Mihael smiles and responds, "What knowledge is it that you seek?" His voice was smooth and yet coy. His eyes looked her over as she spoke of knowing about war, a comment he almost always passed off as mere rumor. Simply because the man had fought many a battle and managed to survive even when he didn’t think he would. "I am simply a hermit with the intent to free Larket of the fermin." He pauses realizing he never got her name, "Who pray tell are you?"

Aira smirks. “What knowledge can you give me?” She counters rather quickly. Aira was not known for her sweetness or gentle tongue. “A simple hermit, hmm? Does the simple hermit have a name?” She inquires. His counter question has the elf pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and chewing the soft flesh before releasing it with a soft pop. “I am a simple huntress intent to restore Frostmaw with her rightful leader.”

Mihael lets loose a laugh which doesn’t subside for some time. Finally coming to a rest his orbs, they lock on her face while he tilts his head. "Depends on what knowledge you seek." A puff is taken, "This hermit does have a name, a name most don't know. However that in itself is knowledge. Is a name in exchange for shafts sufficient?" the old lycan asks her. His eyes kept studying her, "A huntress. I take it this huntress has a name that is currently remaining undisclosed?"

Aira rolls her copper eyes before leaning forward so she can reach behind her and pluck a single arrow from the quiver on her back. Twirling it in her fingers, she points the sharpened arrowhead towards the hermit but does relinquish her grip on the shaft. “One arrow. That is what you get for your name.” A pause as she keeps her unblinking gaze on his. “And perhaps the huntress will disclose her own name as well, as a bonus.”

Mihael does not blink or waver as she points the arrow at his face. "One custom arrow?" he shakes his head, "My name is worth more." He begins to stand as he speaks, "A name for a name seems much more fair. Though..." he looks her over again and turns his back to the woman. "A huntress....perhaps..." he says to himself lost in thought.

Aira shrugs her shoulder and twirls the arrow back, placing it in her quiver where it clatters against the others. She mimics his movements, hopping up to a crouched position before standing completely. She begins to swat at her backside, knocking the dirt and dust that had accumulated there. She bends down to pick up her bow. “Yes, a huntress,” she answers to his back, sliding the bow across her body once more.

Mihael offers a smirk, "You don't even know what I'm talking about." taking a puff he turns around to see her placing her bow back in its place. Suddenly he hears a howl, one familiar to him. "I must go, they are in pain." He says once the howl dies down. One last puff and he takes off calling back. "Wolfy. It’s a name that some know me as. Send word if you like." As he says this a small raven lands beside her, the creature made of smoke looks at her tilting its head about before it hops around.