RP:Stay Out Of The Woods

From HollowWiki


Summary: While waiting for Marge to meet her in the Town Square with Bryce, Alvina catches a weird stare from a stranger exiting the Whaler. They exchange quips regarded hunters and the weather before parting.


"I say there is no darkness but ignorance" - William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night


Cenril Town Square

Alvina isn’t usually a woman who would stand out in any kind of crowd. Once upon a time, maybe, back when her arm was metal and it caused discomfort in any who witnessed the oddity. Now, though, she sports two very normal flesh and blood arms and as society logic dictates - she is unremarkable. So it would suffice to say that an unremarkable woman sat on a bench in the town square, pouring over the pages of a leatherbound book. The title is obscured but the pages are yellowed and tattered. It’s in good condition, consider it’s obvious age. She hums thoughtfully now and again, looking up towards the north as if expecting someone or something to appear. Black, thick glasses perch on her nose and red curls are spun up into a messy bun. The coastal town is blessed with cool winds but warm sun; a milder climate than most around this time of year. This pattern repeats for some time - read for a couple minutes, look up, then back to reading.


Lhyrin exited the Whaler’s Bar, hardly a sound made to accompany the action. The elf closed their eyes briefly, squinting against the harshness of the sun’s rays, a scowl is given to the celestial body above. No move was made to pull up the black leather hood that dangled freely from their neck, along their back--instead, Lhyrin allowed those gaunt, stark white features to remain visible. Those in the bar that had seen Lhyrin leave, some of them nearly pressed their face against the dirty glass that opened the outside world to them, without ever having to set foot outside of the tavern. How long had it been since a forsaken elf had been seen? Had any ever made their way to Cenril? Or the regions beyond in the west? That business hadn’t been one Lhyrin was ever privy to. They hadn’t cared. Greyed eyes glanced about, taking in those that pass. The smell of mortals was in the air and it’s enough to make the elf physically ill. And yet… there’s one that stood out. Lhyrin merely stared at Alvina, their gaze as if they were peering into Alvina’s very soul.


Alvina’s just tilted her nose back into her book when a chill eats up her spine. Is it just instinct or wolfish awareness that she was being watched? She blinks into her book, no longer reading, but testing the paranoia to see if it will fade. After a moment’s passed, it lingers, so she lifts her head again to stare North. No familiar faces appear but their eyes. The eyes of strangers always feel different. She’ll meet their gaze with careful contemplation, wondering just what they might be thinking about to stare so directly in this direction. Another blink and regardless of whether or not their gaze breaks away she’ll stand and cautiously walk towards the Whaler’s exit. Was this face familiar in another lifetime? Another day? Within, the wolf warned her in a low growl. Cenril wasn’t safe, even for a Landon. If the stranger does not walk away, she’ll stop just out of reach and wait a long second before speaking. “Lost?” She inquires before pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with her index finger.


Lhyrin // “No,” came a voice that seemed neither too masculine nor too feminine--it just was, and what it was, was very self-assured. Lhyrin didn’t move, but upon Alvina’s approach, they did finally break their line of sight with the female. “Is it always this dreary out?” What an odd question. It was a perfectly nice day out--nice enough that it even allowed folks to read! “And so… busy?” Cenrilians continued their walkabouts throughout the city, passing by the pair, sparing odd looks towards not only Lhyrin, but Alvina as well. Just what was a creature like that doing around a beauty like the redhead? Vanity called to Lhyrin, a hand raised to glide through slick black tresses as grey eyes found Alvina again.


Alvina tilts her head curiously. Not lost? The next question causes her to squint at the elf before looking up at the nearly cloudless sky. Dreary? Do they believe the sun dreary? How strange. “Not usually,” She answers, drawing her chin down to recenter her eyes on their face with a curious smile. “This is the first, uh, dreary day in the past few months.” It felt a lot like a game, though she could tell the stranger was serious and detested the warmth Alvina reveled in. “On nicer days, it isn’t so crowded.” She added. “Bad weather draws them all out.” The book she’d been reading was closed and curls again her stomach. The title half visible above her palm. ‘ -orests’. Her eyes move past them, looking again to the north and then back. She can’t seem to figure out just what they are or why they’re here. Too presumptuous, she guessed. “What weather is more preferable?” Rain, snow, sleet, hail? Overcast and chill? Endless darkness parted by dim magics? One never knew.


Lhyrin shifted somewhat uncomfortably, but it seemed merely due to the misalignment of the yew bow and quiver strapped to their back. Shoulders were rolled on that over six foot tall form and the discomfort cured for the moment--Lhyrin had been much too busy staring at Alvina upon exiting the bar to fix it then. “Anything not quite as bright,” they said flatly, as if the answer should’ve been clear all along. “I shall have to keep that in mind, if I decide to float around here much longer.” One couldn’t be clear if Lhyrin was even speaking to Alvina now, their line of sight straying again from the wolf-woman down to the book. ‘-orests’. There wasn’t many words that ended with those exact letter, and Lhyrin took a stab in the dark, asking at length, “Forests aren’t the kind of place someone like yourself should find themselves wondering about.” Was that a threat? Or perhaps just a very nice word of caution.


Alvina doesn’t look surprised. Her bardic heart craved just enough information to imagine it but the elf didn’t offer much. Do they come through often? Too rude to ask, she guesses. “It’s a nice place,” She says dully, watching the bow and quiver while they adjust. She’s interested in the way they presented this advice. Her fingers flex around the book in her hands and she looks down at it, as if it’s betrayed her somehow. “Is it because I don’t carry a weapon?” It isn’t an accusation; more of an inquiry. “Or is it some other thing about me that makes me look…” How she should say it? “...like I couldn’t defend myself?” She punctuates it with a smile, wondering just how blunt they intended to be. It was a bold, seemingly random bit of advice to offer. She’s interested to know what specifically about her tells them she shouldn’t venture out into the wilds. “I just so happen to visit the Sage frequently.” She adds, as a testament to her hardiness. She’ll just leave out the bits where she’s run into trouble or BEEN the cause of trouble. Wolves weren't always controllable, especially the younger ones.


Lhyrin // Grey eyes found Alvina again, opting to stay put this time as she spoke. They took in her mannerisms, that sweet smile, the way she was clearly trying to suppress her urges to ask more questions. “Well-trained predators know when they find prey.” Well, if Alvina wanted to know how blunt Lhyrin was being, she certainly found out. “You trust too easily. And when you’re delving into your tomes, don’t make it so apparent that you’re distracted. Your mind must be in all places at once. Just because you look up occasionally doesn’t mean you’ll see what’s coming for you. Predators aren’t that stupid.” The nearly monotone voice held a level of aloofness few managed, “You. Are. Prey.” Each of those last three words was like a blow from the bluntest of weapons. “Sage is nothing. Nothing of importance lurks in those woods. Not even the drow care to dismantle that place.”


Alvina squints. “You would not be the first person to say that.” She’d been called prey a few years ago, when she wore the title proper. “I don’t suppose I could just cut anyone down that I’m suspicious of.” She notes, holding their eyes with purpose while her smile stays intact. The blows were felt, surely, but she did not recoil nor did she flare in anger. No self righteous rage in response to being summed up by no one that actually knew her. “Do predators usually hang out at sea side bars?” It didn’t give the impression of being very...intimidating. Most of the occupants were drunken sailors and companions they’ve pulled along for company. “Prey, as I’ve been titled, aren’t stupid either.” It’s an odd sentence, she knows, regardless of how it might make her look. They seemed almost...annoyed by indifference, if such a sentiment was possible. It’s the mention of Drow that really steals her attention. “I’m fairly certain they were interested not a year or so ago. Or some group or other was. Drow sounds familiar though. I’m not sure what they wanted with the Sage, exactly, but the mission was - as you’ve probably seen - unsuccessful.” She shrugs, as if it’s no important matter to her either way. Alvina, being a tinkerer, can no longer keep her questions at bay. It’s all fair game now that she’s been painted this or that. “Who are you?” She asks, that cheeriness overlying a keen awareness that they were not what they appeared. Or maybe they were -exactly- as they appeared and she wasn’t sure which was more concerning.


Lhyrin finally allowed a smile to grace their lips; the action was most unnerving to those that caught it in the corner of their eye in passing. “Have you never heard the phrase ‘stalking your prey’? Surely, someone as intelligent as you must know that not all animals are quick to attack. Hunting takes time. For the right trophy, some take as long as necessary. I’m merely… taking stock of the cattle here.” A laugh was allowed to make itself known, albeit a brief one, “Indeed, not all those that are hunted are like rabbits and squirrels. If I thought that about you, you wouldn’t still be standing there, holding a conversation with me, little one. As for the drow, you are quite right. They were indeed the ones that tried to do away with Sage, and yet, they did not finish the job, did they? It’s a wonder that they even bother coming out of their tiny hole in the ground.” The smirk faded when the last question was posed to the elf, “A hunter. A good one. Nothing more.”


Alvina couldn’t pick them apart. “I do hope you won’t kill people in the city. They are busy killing each other, at the moment.” Not that it was obvious from the quiet square they occupied. But weren’t all creatures always trying to kill other creatures? An old, ingrained lesson. Little one. It’s a smidge degrading! But she doesn’t press it. She’s been called worse. How does a woman her age get called little one? Ah well maybe her age isn’t significant where they come from. An elf she once knew felt the same, most likely. Though he was too polite to say so. “Hunter” She repeats, stamping the ‘name’ into her mental registry. “I have heard the phrase though I don’t make a game of applying it.” They took an interesting and moderately frightening (to an younger version of herself) approach. “No love for the drow then? I can’t say many would blame you.” She took no personal stance on the matter. Another glance cast over their shoulder lights her expression with recognition. Clearly, whoever she’d been waiting for has just come into view. Politely (or so it’ll appear) she turns back to face them. “I think it’s dark underground with the drow.” She smirked, it wasn’t a remark made with malice but more general amusement at the thought. “You might like it, Hunter. Until then.” She lifts her empty hand to push her glasses back up before offering a slight wave and turning to face the northern section of the square. There she'll to call out animatedly to an older woman pushing a carriage. A small child appears to be the cargo and the Prey of a woman was overjoyed to see them.


Lhyrin didn’t say much else as Alvina took her leave. Instead, just as Lhyrin had before their “conversation”, the elf watched the redhead closely. She had a certain fire to her, the same that the elf really only ever saw in such creatures, like the dragons and werewolves in Rynvale they’d hunted. So few had it and it intrigued the elf. Perhaps there was more like this bard here on the mainland. There was a rather malicious looking smirk at the thought, but it was soon hidden by the aforementioned hood. If only Lhyrin knew that Alvina was indeed amongst those wolf-fiends' kind. It was nothing a little ‘stalking your prey’ couldn’t assist with eventually. For now, however, Lhyrin melded into the rush hour crowd that soon passed, as if they hadn’t even been there to begin with.