RP:Cross-Culture on Kelay Way

Summary: Locke Abigail takes a short break from his latest ill-fitting odd job to admire a horse and strike up brief conversation with her rider, Meri.

Kelay Way

Meri is just a gal in the world, it's really nothing exciting. Presently this gal that is in this world is walking on road, this very road in fact. Some might argue that she is traveling alone, others might have the opinion that she has selected perfectly good company for her travels for trotting slowly alongside her is her horse, the gray mare that she has had for years. She's lost track of how many years by now, but Kadence is easily her most loyal companion. The pregnant woman is dressed practically and comfortably, because growing bellies are not comfortable to live with, so why make matters worse by selecting uncomfortable clothing? Her outfit is an unimpressive pair of loose fitting pants, a baggy shirt, and boots. Meri seems to be only half paying attention to the road that she is traveling on, which is just fine because it's not particularly busy. Her gaze is glued to a piece of paper. It is a list of properties that are vacant within the area, of course someone would have to be awful nosey to discern those details. All that your average person traveling by would be able to tell is that his pregnant woman seems to be muttering to herself over the contents of this note. Which, most people probably would pay no mind to. It's not their business after all.

Locke was putting his back into it, but it just didn’t seem to make a difference. “Go on, lad, put your back into it,” the bearded old elf said, and not for the first time. Tapping his cane, the elf guffawed. “When I was your age, I used to lift barrels as tall as that tree. You see where I’m pointing? The big one right behind you.” Locke was confident he would fall over and die beneath this barrel full of squashes and yams if he dared turn around. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” he squeaked. The young halfling was, in a word, lethargic. To be more precise, his core was skin and bones; his legs were toned and his arms were borderline-passable but his torso was just pitiful. Growing up hunting and prancing through the forests beyond Lithrydel did that to a lad. Lots of running, some light work with a bow, and nothing heavy to carry because he wasn’t in charge of fetching firewood. Still, he had no choice today. If Locke wanted to stay at the kind-though-strict old man’s house for a few days he knew he needed to earn his keep. The old man was a widower with no surviving children. He was a storyteller, though he told no stories about his family, and even someone as naturally curious as Locke knew when not to push. He made his way by selling vegetables, but his back had finally had enough of life, so now he told youth to use theirs for all they were worth. Locke was breathless by the time he dropped the final barrel in a small wooden wagon. The wagon’s horse neighed in a vaguely disappointed fashion. “You try hauling these things around,” Locke replied, too tired to realize the irony of it. “Ah, my boy,” the old elf said, slapping Locke’s shoulder and sending a shiver of pain down his spine. “Look there -- coming up the road just now. A bonny lass, indeed. Did I ever tell you the one about the bonny lass and the ailing prince?” The woman, Meri, was close enough for Locke to see her well. She was holding a note, but it was none of Locke’s business. “Care for squash?” The old elf asked the woman. “Fresh caught, if you will.”

Meri's stewing over where it is she wants to locate herself next is interrupted by some ruckus up the road. Even from a distance, Meri can see that Locke is struggling to get the barrel in the wagon. To be fair, she's really not putting much thought into Locke's physique. her pregnant mind has no business analyzing him in depth like that anyway. This scene was still a welcome distraction from her more unpleasant task in hand. As she approaches, she half considers if she should perhaps offer to help? The psion could easily handle loading a barrel into a wagon, even if it was full of squash. But, pregnant women tend to move slowly, so by the time she is even within speaking range....Locke has managed to get the barrel into the wagon, to the dismay of the horse that has to haul this all. That settled that matter. Meri was content to dip her head toward the ground so that she can attempt to travel by without interaction, especially with all that bonny lass and ailing prince nonsense. Please stop. Annnnd then the old elf speaks to her and offers her a squash. Which only earns the duo a perplexed look. First, who the heck offers a total stranger a squash? Second, what the heck is one supposed to do with a squash? Maybe Meri could feed it to her horse? Do you like squash horse. "Ahh....I think we're okay....Thanks."

Locke plopped himself down on the edge of the wagon and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. His bright green eyes lit up at the sight of Kadence. What a fair horse she was! He hardly even registered that his benefactor had tried selling a squash to the woman beside the horse; Locke was transfixed upon that horse. He hopped up in a jiffy as though he’d never been in pain at all. It hurt, of course, so he cringed before his cringe became a smile. “My, that horse is magnificent! If you’ll pardon the interruption, I simply must pet her.” He was clearly giddy as could be. Locke had a natural affinity with animals; many trusted him instantly. Just a few days prior, when he’d met the healer Penelope, he had sent a fox he’d never seen before to investigate who she was before emerging from the bushes in the Southern Sage. The fox was glad to be of aid. Horses almost always delighted to see the young halfling, and petting them within seconds of laying eyes on them was rarely an issue. Locke had no idea just how stubborn and proud Kadence could be. To be sure, he sensed it to a point, but was it more than he could handle? He held out his arm, slowly and gently, with an expert’s delicate motion. He knew horses, and he knew that sudden movements weren’t their favorite thing.

Meri was okay with the intrusion. Where else was the squash conversation going to go? Meri had already said no. The cringe that Locke gave during his approach was noted, but as it was soon replaced with a smile Meri did not comment. Not yet at least. It does strike Meri as unwise that Locke does not even wait for the blonde to actually give permission to attempt to pet her horse. "Some horses are real particular, you know. She could be a real ornery little biter and you didn't even wait for me to give you the clear?" Meri gives a light little tsk tsk....but Locke will find that Kadence is not a real ornery little biter, far from. She's a little skittish, Locke would be able to sense that. Were the elf bigger in stature, she might have been weirded out by his approach. But when his movement slows, the horse seems to relax enough that Locke will soon discover is going to have no trouble petting the gray mare. Meri steps a out of the way, keeping hold on the horse's reins, but giving Locke and Kadence more room to interact without her hovering. "Her name is Kadence. My name is Meri. And you two are?"

Locke | “Abigail,” Locke said happily, petting Kadence with a big, dumb smile. “Locke Abigail. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kadence. And Meri,” he added quickly. “Do you see, Master Irmadale? Do you see this beautiful mare?” The old elf laughed and sat down on the wagon Locke had just abandoned. “Aye, I see her. A beauty, she. Did I ever tell you the one about Ol’ Nevehr over here and the smart-as-a-whip mare?” He gestured toward his horse, who had stuck his tongue out for no apparent reason. Locke nodded absentmindedly, barely registering the words. He put a bit of corn down which he’d pulled out from his satchel, hoping Kadence would be hungry. “I’m a traveler from beyond the shore,” Locke explained to psion and horse alike. “Far from here, out past the Demon Archipelago and Aryll and Old Ishaara and the Reumian Confederation and Catal and… well, you get the picture. I’ve only been in Lithrydel a short while. I don’t mean to keep you, Lady Meri, but I love learning about the different cultures of the peoples I come across. Do you have any suggestions on where I can encounter many cultures at once?”

Meri :: Kadence seemed to be well aware that all this praise and flattery was directed at her, she seems to let out a soft and content nickering in light of all the compliments. The petting was good too. Meri seemed content to let her horse enjoy the moment, not like the beast was not spoiled enough but usually most of the attention the horse received was from Meri. Meri registered the old bearded elf's words, and even caught that the horse had stuck it's tongue out. Meri lifts a brow. She's not sure she wants to know about Ol' Nevehr and the smart-as-a-whip mare. Blue eyes flit back to Locke, seemingly perplexed by his question. "Ah, there was a day where I might have been able to answer that question with more ease. But. I feel like I don't get out nearly as much I used to, so I may not be in the know of where the popular meeting spots are these days. Would imagine that most taverns and inns would probably host a wealth of cultures. But. You might find that there is no one meeting spot and you're just going to have to get out there and add a few more places to your list of travels. It sounds like you are already a fairly seasoned traveler, so I bet you'll have no problem with that endeavor." Meri has only heard of one place that Locke listed.

Locke laughed in good cheer “Taverns,” he repeated in mock gloom. “Tis true, you have a fair point! I’ve always found taverns to be an excellent locale for cross-cultural study.” He poured a bit more corn down for Kadence -- not too much more, as overfeeding horses corn could sometimes lead to complications. “But alas, I have noticed, well, and if Kelay Tavern is anything to go by… um, how shall I word this… the taverns here in Lithrydel are awfully… boisterous, aren’t they?” Locke patted his shoulder awkwardly, stumbling over how to phrase this in a way which would not offend. “Loud and cantankerous, that place, except in the morning. In the morning,” Locke leaned in faux-conspiratorially, “Mesthak and Nancy sometimes sing songs together like amateur minstrels. It’s cute!” He leaned wayward again. “Otherwise, though? Oof. There’s culture, but it’s all about drinking and looking for who’s who’s to share beds with.” He scoffed. “It’s not like that in Aryll. It’s a place for contemplation and serious study. Wine is served -- in moderation. And in the Reumian Confederation it’s a bit more like it is here in Kelay, but there are weekly seminars and it’s all quite charming. The Demon Archipelago, well, it varies by island and admittedly on two of those islands taverns are sometimes the sites for live human sacrifice, but on the other six islands it’s really quite nice, I assure you! And Catal, um, I hear there used to be taverns? But now the land is all sulfur and ash… and Ishaara, of course, is completely…” Mr. Irmadale cleared his throat. “It might be that you’re keeping the lady after all, lad,” he warned with a snicker.

Meri smirks dryly. Locke had a point. Even when she was more inclined to spend more time around the places she had listed off, they were usually boisterous. There was much skirt chasing. There was also plenty of booze and drugs, that's what Meri was there for. She has obviously doing much better in that regard. The woman nods her head in agreement. The elder elf's warning is also given a smirk and a nod of agreement, "I don't really mind the small interruption...But your friend is right, we should probably be on our way here." Meri lifts that piece of paper she has been holding and gives it a little wiggle. "Life calls." But Kadence is still munching and she still owes Locke and answer to his inquiry. "Though before I go, if taverns and inns are not to your liking, then you might venture into some of the other regions. There are libraries and theaters. Perhaps you will meet people there who are less boisterous. I believe Cenril likely has both a library and a theater that are worth examining."

Locke | That was the second time now that someone had suggested Cenril. Scandal had made it sound like a veritable smorgasbord of scum and villainy, which was exciting in its own right but not exactly intellectual. Now Meri had informed him that there were books to be read there, dramatic and comedic plays to be pondered over. His bright green eyes lit up again anew. “I’m so glad we met!” He gave Kadence one last pat and stepped back so that he wouldn’t be in their way. “Lady Meri, Lady Kadence, I hope our paths cross again. Wherever your travels take you, be safe and…” He almost said ‘merry’; thought better of it. “...happy.” The young ranger bowed, which reminded him that his back was still recovering. He sullenly wondered whether this was what it felt like to be old, but then, glancing at Mr. Irmadale, he blushed with shame for daring the thought. “Well that was a nice little detour,” Mr. Irmadale said with a smile after Meri and Kadence were on their way. “Now go on, lad. There’s a bit of wood to be chopped out back before the hour grows darker. Go on, lad, put your back into it,” the bearded old elf said, and not for the first time.

Meri issues a chuckle at the thought of being happy, but she's not going to go spilling her little sob story to a total stranger. Besides, she did this to herself, didn't she? "It was nice meeting you too. Good luck with the rest of your work. And next time you're loading barrels? Try giving it more of a squat and lifting from your legs, not your back." With a lazy salute, the pregnant woman and her horse proceed to trod further down their path. The hour was getting dark and Meri needed to make it back to her inn of choice before it got too much darker.