RP:Honor and Thieves
Scenic View
Ohan stands with his back toward the path, and facing out over the cliff. He holds in his hand a small dagger. One small enough that it wouldn't cause death but could cause a bit of damage none-the-less. And in the other he holds a small stone reflecting the moons light of the shined surface. The blade is placed along the stone and pushed outward away from the rogues body, the method tried true by many upon many others of sharpening their blades. Though easy, the mindless work does tend to let the mind wander away, and such is the case with Ohan, as he strikes the stone again defining the already sharp edge to the blade.
Sabrina happened down to this View more often theses days, avoiding home and the hound that constantly plagued her mind. This was a place of clarity, and usually, solitude. Her mind was wandering a darker path when the sound of metal upon stone rang through the air and she saw him standing there... in her spot... she halted her pace which was in no way enshrouded in stealthy silence. She bites her lip, surely he heard her footfalls, turning away now would be bad form. She tried to rehearse the correct social protocol for such an instance in her head but was getting no where. She clears her throat, annoyingly so since it was not a natural noise she often made and she even surprised herself at how odd it sounded since her throat did not need clearing in the first place. It sounded a little bitchy. She forced a smile across her otherwise pleasant features in case he turned around she wanted him to know she meant no ill will.
Ohan gripped the handle of the dagger tighter when he had heard the footsteps. The clearing of her throat bringing him out of the trance like state almost instantly. The dagger snaps quickly to attention before its rotated so that the blade now comes from the reverse, the rogue readying himself for defense should it be needed, turns around and eyes the woman, the source of the sounds. Seeing a forced smile he looks her over searching for any visible weapons. “Hello there, can I help you?” he asks keeping the blade in the defensive even though he drops his hand to the side to show he too meant no ill will, but wasn't about to be caught off guard just because of a pretty smile.
Sabrina did that girl twitch when he turned, the half twitch-half wince that squinted one eye over a cutely crooked smile. He was a halfbreed, and it was a well hidden attempt to disapprove of his breeding without shortsightedly appearing racist. It wasn't that she didn't like him, it was that she tried to be not-racist to the point of overly approving of the nature of his kind. Gloved hands cross neatly behind her back in a movement that made it obvious she was not reaching for some weapon, and where would she hide one anyway dressed like that... maybe the hair. Raven tresses were drawn in a high ponytail, though it swung freely past her hips- a constant reminder she needed it cut but probably wouldn't remember until she was well beyond a stylist of any region. There were some odd pointy things twinkling in the moonlight, noticeable by only keen eyes and in the right light. Her minted eyes shown bright under the high moon, proving her to be of the River despite obvious features that betrayed her race. “You wont be needing that, promise.” She saw his blade, and was bold enough to draw attention to the fact she saw it and approached him anyway. She stood by his side a fair bit smaller than he, standing at a mere 5 foot even and that is counting the cheater inch and a half in those militaristic boots. She looks off into the distance, trying to decipher his previous gaze as to any happenings that may be taking place in that general direction. “I must admit, I thought I was going to be alone.” Her accent was thick, disturbingly so, but Common was hardly her first language. Eventually she would be more comfortable with those she talked to often enough. Eventually her tongue showed a distinct mastery of High Sylvan, mixed with a pirate twang. If he were well traveled he would pin her as Nuduin on the spot.
Ohan picked up on the accent and the twang, he was after a rogue. Knowing and blending were part of the job requirements. It is then to ease her that he shifts his language from common to one that would be fitting more of the island. “Hope this would be easier on you, not fluent in it, but enough to hold a talk” he says in a mix of high sylvan and low elf. Ohan opens his hand allowing the weapon to drop slightly before catching it by the steal blade and after a moment of repositioning uses the hilt of his free hand to push the weapon up his sleeve until a soft click is heard. His hand pats down his wrist for a moment before returning the cuff of his sleeve back to it's respectable position. “Most don't make it out this way, and hardly any who speak this language” he said “Though your darker kin seem to have found a liking to the city after dark as of late.”
Sabrina smiles at the change of linguistics, he was not as poorly spoken as he claimed and it made his voice more pleasant and smooth. Much like her own when she spoke it in hypnotically melodic tones. Almond eyes fall to his disarming response and the smile widened still. “Not a threat then?” She turns her gaze back to the View before he could answer. She laughs when he mentions her darker kin, nodding she adds “Ah yes, I have had my run ins... lost my arm a few months ago but all is well.” Her bare right shoulder wore the scar of a limb that looked to have been severed and reattached. “The worst part is being awake for the healing, but Ardents... its how we work.” She had been through immense pain, and for a healer to show evidence of having been wounded must have meant the whole ordeal was life threatening. “I have been warned not to travel alone. The things they do to faces like mine...” She mocks the latter bit, not believing for a second that a face like hers would be marred any more or any less than any others. “I believe it is more to do with my heritage, actually.” It was unclear if this was an obvious assumption or, in the scholastic manner she said it, if she had studied hard on the idea and had a revelation of this as a fact. She almost makes fun of the one who took her arm in the first place “I wish he'd have known the touch of my kind before he laid hands on me, otherwise his grip would not have been so tight.” She regretted that instance, the pain she recalled in his eyes as she was rendered helpless to stop it. It must have been quite traumatic to take pity on the would be attacker. “Lucky I guess, it could have been worse.” She was smiling when she turned back to him, a single dark brow arched at his whole attire. “Assasin, I take it?” She curtsies lightly and introduces her class “Healer, at your service... if you ever find yourself in need.”
Ohan shrugs no since in hiding his profession, “For an assassin neither side of the blade needs a healer. If the one holding the blade needs one, then the assassin was careless, if the one receiving the blade needs a healer then the assassin was sloppy. But I thank you for the offer anyways.” again his language was breaking going between low and high born. To him they were one in the same only having minimal dealings with highborn. “You are a water born yes?” he asks “Kind of far from home aren't you?” he asks, not offensive just making conversation.
Sabrina managed a lucky guess at least. He didn't have a bow, so he couldn't be a ranger. His blade was well taken care of which meant it was artistically useful and that death was probably quite enjoyable for him to execute. He did not appear to wear any insignias designating any region of the realm which meant also that he was free lance, or... for hire. “It was either that or a thief, and there is no honor among thieves. Had you lacked honor we would not be talking, we would be quarreling. Don't you agree?” She was quite proud of her deduction, learning to read people was becoming a fondness for her. When he mentions water she grows silent, clearly in deep thought as to the proper response. “Water born.” All she could muster was a repeat of his words and a vague nod confirming the fact. “It isn't home anymore, besides there is a whole ocean separating me from it.” She almost sounded bitter, almost. In any case she did not appear to miss it at all.
Ohan smiles contently “There is actually honor amongst thieves, just not the kind of honor you find amongst those who abide by the laws set forth by those who think they know whats right for everyone while they sit eating their plates full of meats and grains all the while those who they govern yearn for scraps of left overs. So others decide to take the meats and grains rather then the scraps and they are the wrong doers. I've had many tables with the rule makers, and many with the rule breakers, and I assure you there is more code to the rule breakers then there is “honor” in the rule makers.” he clears his throat for a moment realizing he was defending that which needed not to be defended. “Oceans are small I run to the island every few days for stock and purchases. Some items you just can't get on the mainland.”
Sabrina spoke smoothly in all her words, her soft voice carrying meticulous notes as if one from not only good breeding but highborn upbringing. A scholar. She carried herself with dignified confidence, stood before him in the intellectual posture as if reciting to him her dissertation, but there was a stain of defeat that lingered on her; a bitter chip against their kind and their ways that meant she set out to pass herself off as Common. If there was one thing either of them would never shake it was the Elvish arrogance that is bred directly into the bloodlines. She ignored his indepth perception of those who were honored and not, finding his break from that topic to be a sign he did not wish to delve further. Her laugh is light and friendly. “You mistake me for a Rynvalian. I am not. You would have better chance getting to my island if you found a port in Chartsend.” She turns to face him, apologetically bowing for correcting his geography for it was not uncommon for her kind to ever venture outside the city walls. “I am from Nuduin, three docks east Rynvale Port of Iggrissas.” She found that those who did know of her origin needed to realize the subtle differences “We are less pretty.” It was an inside joke to be sure, looking at her she must have clearly meant that they were less 'fancy' as she stood before him in skin tight leather pants and a chaninmail halter versus the general attire of the Rynvalians with their frills and elegant dress... like black silk shirts and fancy fedoras. It was a stab at him, but a playful one at that. “In any case, I will leave you to your view. It was a pleasure.” She bows positively proper and heads back up the path from which she came.