RP:Little Light in the Dark

Sayban can be found standing near the bread shelves, examining the different breads and taking in the different aromas from each. As warm bread is being put out, she can only smile as she takes in the tantalizing smells. Snow white hair is pulled back into a ribbon, showing off her flawless light skin and grey eyes. "I will take a few loaves of the fresh bread, please," her voice is soft and filled with warmth, absent of any kind of dark side or mean streak. She had the look of the light side if it had a flesh and bone form.

Ranok isn't inside at all. He was out on the street. And his sword was out. He was not on his way to a good impression with anybody. But, for this, it was a good cause. Wraiths stalked these streets, a byproduct of a conflict that was only now truly winding down. Said wraith had the poor judgement to attack Ranok, of all the people on the street. The blade in his hand glowed faintly with holy power, and dripped blood that ran black on it. A gash was present alongside his back, on his right side. The wound seemed fairly superficial, the duster more damage. But, blood did drip through, so the claw that had rended the man made it through his armor. The wraith, taking a dislike to Ranok's rather firm rebuttal, was in the process of fleeing, leaving the man on the street, all dressed up and nowhere to go. And a good deal towards being pissed off.

Sayban had just recieved her order and paid the cashier, when the noises from outside reached her ears. She didn't notice, since her nose was getting all the attention in this cute and adorable place. Silent steps take her to the door just about the time this creature, this wraith was fleeing. Placing her bread in a medium sized hand bag, she ran out to find Ranok standing there. Stopping, she stands up straight, standing taller than most males and females running around these dark streets. In that soft, warm voice of her's she speaks out to him, "I guess this isn't the time for me to apologize for speaking out earlier. I see you could use some help, some healing," she sighs, "I can do it, if you will allow me." Her hands folded into each other and rested on her well toned torso.

Ranok stood at a full seven feet without his boots, and was built like a man of his stature that swung metal for a living was. That was to say, quite thick and broad. As the wraith flees from the man he spends a good minute cursing at the fleeing thing. Probably. It was done in a strange language. Which was likely a shame, given that the man sounded like he was flinging off some real doozies. When he'd calmed down an iota, the blade dips. His head swivels to the avian, once again putting her under his calculating gaze. What might not have been noticed earlier was the scar that ran down his face diagonally. It was a white, jagged affair that ran from left temple to his right jaw. It looked old, and fit the man naturally. The man's right hand reaches into his duster to produce a rag, which is applied to the blade. He treated his weapons first, before his body, it seems, "It iz chust a scratch, gurl. Hy vill liff, trust me." Stoic nature aside, the man simply didn't trust Sayban. He didn't know her, hadn't heard about any of her deeds. She was an unknown. His words about the wound were at once lying and truth. He'd survived much, much worse, but the nature of wraiths made that cut much worse then it was. But, he would at least survive.

Sayban nodded her head to his response and replied back to him in that same voice she used to speak to the cashier, "I was just simply offering and I can understand that is what you want. I will not do anything unless you ask of my healing survices. Though, my aura is telling me that is much more than a scratch, if it came from a creature such as that. Creatures of the dark and void leave wounds that are the hardest to cure. I do hope you will be alright." She whistled, as if she were calling something or someone, but she waited and waited until a large dragon appeared in the dark sky, its body cloaked in a glowing white light. The dragon itself looked like a giant swan; a fitting creature for a gentle creature such as Sayban.

Ranok sheathes his sword in a smooth motion. Being left handed, it was accomplished with no difficulty. The wound was on the right. He looks up at the summoned creature for a moment. Then, to Sayban, "Hyu are korreck. Vraidds korrupt hall dey touch. Vich iz vy Hy'm here. Dese kreatures hef schtalked de lunds enough. Now, tell me. Vat de hell iz dat tink?" A hand points at the incoming creature. The air currents swirl around the street, but Ranok's duster stalwartly refuses to obey its whims and instead flutters in a wind of its own desire. It was as if the thing was alive, the way it moved. A splotch of red blood impacts the street, bright red.

Sayban listens as she waits for her air mount to land. A smile grows on her lips, "Wraiths are evil creatures, but this Vuryal will not let them die easily. His pets do not go unoticed by the people in the sky cities." Finally, the swan dragon edges closer to its master, its companion, "To answer your question, sir, this is a dragon like the others, but this one is special. She is a swan dragon and harmless unless her family is given unwanted attention. She is like the water dragons, but swan dragons prefer to live in the sky cities with the sky and storm druids." A delicate hand pats the dragons neck, "Her name is Brooke, and she was a gift to me."

Ranok adjusts his hat, "Make it a hebit to avoeed sayink his name. He hes a tendency to listen in. It hain't superstition, but eksperience dat talks here. He vill listen to de area his name iz schpoken, if he's attentiff." Eyes go back to the dragon. His face was still expressionless as stone. "Hy kan say Hy've never seen a feadered dragon. Hed hyu asked me, doze tinks look glued on. Birds und dragons veren' related, to my knowledge."

Sayban can only stand there, biting her tongue as she listens to the man. She isn't afraid to speak the name of a powerful being. Not at all. She doesn't even flinch or look around when the Time-Lord is spoken of. In reguards to her dragon, she can only smile, "Dragon's and birds are not related, but dragons can have feathers, just like a platapus can lay eggs. It is one of those mysteries in the world that one will never understand. I can also assure you that her feathers are real, and if you decide to pluck one, I can't save you from the terror she will leash upon you."

Ranok seemed blatantly casual in his handling of the Time Lord and his minions. Such is a combination of a life hard lived and sheer experience. The man walks around the dragon, looking at it with eyes that seem to flicker as the light hits them, "Interestink." was all he would say on the matter. No attempt to verify Sayban's words about the feathers was made. The man leaves droplets of blood on his path taken, his boots providing a strange absence of sound as they hit cobblestone.

Sayban watched the man closely, while Brooke bared her teeth at him as a warning. She didn't like people she didn't know to close to her. The avian just stood back and watched, not giving any more warning than what she gave earlier.

Ranok ignored the bared teeth. Gentle, indeed. A wry expression was worn on the man's face. He was either stupid, brave, or simply carrying that casual disregard for dangerous things that people who handle them seem to have. He returns to where Sayban was standing, duster fluttering. The blood seems to have stopped, Only a scant handful lay on the paved street in front of the bakery. But red lines flick and coil across his white metaled breastplate like tendrils coiling. "So, den. Vy are hyu in Larket? Most avians are schnooty bastards as it iz. Und hyu vere raised in Armantium. Neckink it vith de earth dvellers, are ve? By you airs und kloddink, Hy vould guess hyu to be in de upper klasses uf avian society, so if hyu are chust sight seeink...how scundalous, indeed." The man did not so much walk as he did flow. Each motion was perfect, in the sense that it flowed to the next. He was no dancer, but a fighter. He could serve tea and snap into a defense in the same motion, it looked like.

Sayban could only hold back snide remarks as she kept her cool with the man, who seemed to think insulting her race was wise. "Wherever my mate goes, I follow. I am loyal to the end of our days, no matter what he does or where he goes. I will not tell his story. That is for him to tell when he is ready. Besides, of all the human cities in this world, despite the wraiths, Larket seems to be the best suited for me. it is elegant nad people here are nice and respect one another. Even if I am in the upper classes of my society, it is something I am not willing to discuss with you. That is information that is off limits to the human race." She had no interest in how the man walked or spoke. She carried herself with pride and elegance, and even did a pretty darn good job of hiding her frustaration, anger and uncomfortablness. Her training in the avian world is paying off for her.

Ranok was what you called an 'acquired taste'. Which, in laymens terms, really boiled down to 'kind of an asshole'. A distinction he was perfectly content to allow people to perpetrate. His words were casual, almost disinterested. Perhaps he wasn't striving to insult Sayban, perhaps he was. It was hard to tell, "Dere iz kindness in hall places, as dere iz kruelty. Dere iz mostly kruelty in hall uf dese lunds. But, dig a liddle und dere are nuggets uf kindness. Larket hain't a place uf sunshine und butterflies, tough. Hy'm not sure how in keepink vith de nevs uf de lund below, but dey recently schtarted a var uf aggression on Kregus. Only de disappearink uf de Kink und Qveen sav it fizzle as it deed." Ranok carried himself with confidence, and a good bit of aggression, though it was more defensive in nature then a willingness to start a fight. "You mate, den, hm? So hyu are travelink. Or hyu vere kast out. Or henny number uf tinks. Hy suppose dis iz vere Hy ask vat you schtory iz, but Hy sense by de schnappink uf you vords dat hyu vould decline me de opportunity. Instead, Hy vill settle for you name.

Sayban only shurgged her shoulders at the mention of the king and queen. "Sayban is my name. Nothing more, nothing less. For the rest of my name, it has to be earned unless my mate agrees with letting me give the family name away." Another pat is given to the dragon, "Speaking of whitch, I must return to him, before he thinks I have run off. Perhaps I will see you around and he will be with me next time." She mounted the dragon, sitting between it's neck and wings. Words of farewell are waited upon from Ranok, not wanting to be rude and just leave without him saying something in return.

Ranok just shakes his head at the sight of Sayban mounting up, "Vinks uf you own, und hyu ride anodder kreature. Oh, de heavy hend uf mundane kontempt." This was mostly muttered, and may have been missed in the noise of Sayban's mounting. But, a hand goes up to the brim of his hat, to touch in farewell, "Perheps, m'lady. Perheps. Ontil den. Vatch out for de wraith dragon in de air, now." He would turn, strooling down the street. And yes, he strooled. That flowing walk of his was quite distinctive, after all. Barring any further input from Sayban, he would not even turn around. And, within a minute, would literally disappear from sight within a breath, like a hand has smeared the man like it would a painting, the colors leeching out in an instant and then the lines fading into nothing.

Sayban heard his mutter, but she shook it off and let her dragon take her back home. Not a glance backward happened.