RP:Maggie Meets Ahjit
Kelay Tavern
Maggie nods in understanding, catching most of the woman's reply, at the very least the gist of it. "I slept in there for awhile...generally dark and noisy with all that tapping that goes on throughout the day."
Ahjit strides into Kelay's tavern on long, bird like legs. With a stork's certainty the tall avian wades through the chairs, tables, and customers as if they were logs and lily pads in a lagoon. His many layers of embroidered clothing flutter about him like a rainbow of feathers in bright contrast to the pair of snow white wings clasped against his back and bare shoulders. White and rainbow ripple as Ahjit Lalitratnam drapes himself into a chair distant enough from the fire to be comfortable while still well lit, his lanky limbs strangely graceful as they sprawl across the furniture in the languid fashion of a smug cat. From his new perch, the copper skinned stranger watches the going on's from hooded violet eyes while the traces of a smirk lightly touch his lips. He is here to observe until otherwise approached.
Maitane nods, 'I'm no miner like the family and so I always have to take a break.' the tiny human admits with a sweeping gesture of the hand towards an unlikely miners' frame. 'Although', she continues with the heavy Celt accent 'I find once you've done a bit of work, not even tapping stops you from nodding off'. She approaches the woman and motions at the table in a manner suggesting Maitane is requesting permission to join the new lady.
Maggie scoots her chair in to make way for the winged newcomer. Her cat, of the same color as the man's wings, perks up his ears and head at the avian's entrance. He hops down from the table and prowls over, creeping low to the floor as if stalking a bird of some kind. The witch herself seems to preoccupied studying the man's wings with a line appearing between her brows, perhaps out of concern? She hadn't seen many avians, and the thought of them didn't particularly sit well with her regardless. The cat continues to stalk, until he reaches the avian's robes and swipes at them with his paws, claws still sheathed, so one might safely guess it was for play.
Maggie turns toward Maitane with an apologetic smile as her attention was diverted and she pats the chair next to her with a dirty-fingernailed hane. "Aye, though doing nothing seems to accomplish the same thing, doesn't it? At least with mining, you're accomplishing something."
Maitane slides herself quietly into the chair with a shy smile. She readjusts her bracelet to cover the mark of the old Gods, her insecurity peaked by the avian.
Ahjit looks down toward the cat swatting at the fringe of his sari, the corners of the avian's lips curling into a smile. The expression does not reach the man's eyes, violet still cold, distant, and smoldering with private smugness. With deliberate, strangely graceful slowness Ahjit lowers a hand toward the animal and extends long fingers in introduction. "Greetings, brave one," Ahjit drawls in velvety tones. His voice is smooth and warm, reminiscent of desert sands worn smooth by the winds, although it is difficult to determine whether he is male or female by sound alone. Nothing about the avian gives away easy clues to such, in fact. "Do mind the fabric, if you please. It costs more than ten litters of your kind, I assure you."
Maggie 's smile was the furthest thing from shy as she extends her hand, doing her best to avoid the gaze of the avian. "I'm Maggie, humble hedge witch and healer. What do you call yourself?" she asks. Then her head swivels away for a moment as the man mentions 'litters'. She glances to the empty table, then to the winged figure. "By all the gods, that cat..." she curses under her breath. She decides to speak up with another apologetic quirk of her lips to her new acquaintance. "Actually he's rather priceless..." The cat, whose blue eyes meet the avian's now and have an innate smugness of their own. They also hold a very feline curiosity, however, and he raises himself on his front paws to sniff to stranger better.
Ahjit matches the cat's calm stare. He's unmoving save for the frequent twitch of his lips as that smile edges further along his face, skin folding into the familiar creases of laugh lines. When the cat rises up, Ahjit leans forward to bring his face nearer in turn so that his nose in mere centimeters away from the cat's whiskers. And still he stares, the avian seemingly unperturbed by the feline method of introduction. "How do you do?"
Maggie 's fingernails claw into the table, as her acquaintance had left rather abruptly and she now observes how her cat handles the encounter. The cat's whiskers twitch at the proximity of the humanoid's face, and he gives the slightest nod of his fuzzy little head, almost a bow of sorts. He lowers himself and turns to face his master, meowing towards her in an almost beckoning manner. She sighs, her face mildly perturbed by the beast for a moment before it vanishes entirely under her usual friendly guise. She stands and approaches the hearth-side chair as if summoned by the white creature. "My apologies if he's bothering you, m'lord," she says. "A bit of a nosy one, he is."
Ahjit withdraws back into the comforts of his chair and props on elbow upon it, so that his chin is resting in his palm in a casually amused fashion by the time Maggie approaches. Delicately the avian nods to her, the slight motion not enough to send the golden rings in his pointed ears to jangling. "He is no bother. I am, as it were, fond of the creatures. They are clever, calculating, fearless beasts that obey none but themselves. Remarkable, no?"
Maggie 's brow goes up as she notices the pointed ears, like the elves she kept hearing about but hadn't yet seen. "Oh, then you would absolutely love him before he became cursed," she says before taking a chair from behind her and pulling it up so she can plop down within it. The cat instantly leaps up to claim the lap as his rightful perch and rolls over on his back to expose his belly to his master. She rolls her eyes, but her fingers obediently go to rub his belly. "This is my familiar. You're lucky he didn't immediately start hissing at you. He's not too fond of men usually..." She pauses, her eyes going over the avian with a hint of doubt creeping in. "Am I...correct in addressing you as m'lord?"
Ahjit shrugs, the movement thick with laziness and indifference. "M'lord, m'lady, 'hey you', it makes no difference to me. What one is addressed by is infinitely less important than how one is addressed. If you desire a name however I am called Ahjit Lalitratnam." Here he extends his long fingered hands in offer of a handshake. Should Maggie accept she'll find the skin as smooth as his voice. In truth, unnaturally smooth, as if he's never worked a hard day in his life. Pristinely maintained fingernails also suggest as much. Everything about this avian is clean, smooth, and eerily without error. It just isn't right. One might think the tall avian had been sculpted by an artist and then brought to life. "It is a pleasure to meet you both, I am sure. I have not met many since arriving in these lands."
Maggie was all too used to this type of creature, and it makes her stomach do flips. This doesn't show, however, as her eternally dirt-rimmed fingernails and mildly calloused hand takes his in a firm handshake, one indicating she'd probably worked her entire life just the opposite. With all the freckles about her face and neck, traveling down past her bodice's collar, that might indicate such as well. "You can call me, Maggie, humble hedge witch and healer. You can call him either furball, or pain-in-the-arse. Those are my nicknames for him anyways. And if you're a fellow newcomer, I'd be happy to show you what little I've learned of the place since coming. There's never a dull moment, I'll say that much for starters."
Ahjit, for all his appearances of fastidiousness, doesn't immediately let go of Maggie's hand. In fact, his eyes are locked on her hand all throughout the shake, the violet alit with intrigue. "Your hands mean much to you. They earn your keep, work hard, and serve you well, do they not?" Looking up then, the avian flashes a crooked grin that dances on the edges of being a delighted smile rather than a toying smirk. As if to explain his expression, Ahjit continues, "Forgive me." Although there is no hint evident of him being sheepish at his earlier remark "I find that you can tell much about a person by their flesh. Especially their hands. Flesh never lies."
Maggie nods, her smile going a little crooked as a genuine admiration creeps into it. "No forgiveness needed. You're good at reading people. Ever tried reading fortunes?" she jests. "I've found that half the art is seeing what you can tell about a person based off their telling appearance, and the other part is pure showmanship." She pauses, her lips pressing together as a thought occurs to her and her eyes stray to his folded wings. "Granted, judging by your appearance, I'd think you might be able to use a scrying bowl if you wanted and get just as accurate results."
Ahjit lifts a finger in the air to be waggled in a scolding manner. Tsk tsk to intangible magics. "I do not put much stock in scrying. It is a difficult magic to master and more fickle than the winds. Ofttimes it shows what you wish to see rather than what is true. I trust what hands tell me far more than the illusions borne by water or word." Ahjit nods at this firmly, his tones so certain that one might find themselves without doubt in his belief. But even as he nods and prepares to drape himself back into the chair, Ahjit suddenly sits up. All traces of his languid lounging evaporates so that the avian's body language transforms from that of a wading heron into a hunting falcon. He has seen something pass by outside the window. Violet eyes are narrowed and unwavering as he stares in that direction. Without looking at Maggie, Ahjit leaves his chair and says on his way to the exit, "Forgive me again, miss Maggie. The business that has brought me here is closer at hand than I originally thought. I must depart."
Eboric said to Maggie, "You can see into the future?"
Maggie nods to the avian and gives him her first genuine smile of the night. "Hope whatever this business is goes well, as can be in this place anyways," she says. His manner changing made both her eyebrows go up in interest, but she leaves it at that and resumes scratching her familiar's belly. That is, until yet another avian...appears in the room in a white glow and to snowy effect. The cat falls from his master's lap, mrowling his annoyance.