RP:The Girl in Green

Summary: When a woman named Rilla enters the Dancing Destrier, a young bar wench's whole life changes over the course of ten minutes and a single glass of mead.

The Dancing Destrier

Elhaym van Nisan had never spent a day of her life beyond the walls of safe and serene Xalious Village. She had never known the distant mountains lining the northern horizon as anything more than vague, white triangles so far away; never traipsed through the Southern Sage Forest so close to her town; never frolicked with the hobbits who dwelt in huts just out of sight. She had never stood in awe of the ocean, a river, or lake; never felt the heat of daytime in a vast desert, nor its chilly nights. Canyons confounded her, caverns bewildered her, and hot springs sounded downright unfathomable. But she had heard of all these things, and castles and cities and ports-of-call and more. She had heard of islands, and lagoons, and archipelagoes galore. She knew of dragons, and ogres, and trolls; she'd heard of battles, and sieges, and wars. She could spot an orc if only she could see one, and she was reasonably confident in her ability to tell a griffon from a wyvern. Elhaym had never seen any of these people, places, or things. But she listened. Always, she listened. Father was a barkeep, and her mother was a cook. The van Nisans ran a thriving tavern and inn, all under one great, big thatched roof. The Dancing Destrier, it was called, so named after a warhorse who had once found its way into town, carrying a dead knight upon her saddle. It happened years before Elhaym was born; she had never even seen a horse so big as all that. But the name stuck, and the van Nisans knew good business. Better yet, they were a charming couple, friendly and gleeful, and all smiles. The people of Xalious Village relied upon them for good ale and better stews. The mages who lived and studied at the tower -- surely Xalious Village's only awe-inspiring structure, as far as Elhaym was concerned -- spoke of valiant deeds and mysterious poultices and so much more. And the travelers! The travelers were the girl's favorite.

They were her window into the world. They told so many stories, and so many of them sounded like such flights of fancy that Mother Emeralda warned Elhaym on many occasions not to take them literally. Elhaym would nod her head, but she chose to believe. She believed because she wanted to think that her town was not a microcosm of a world that never changed, but an "anomaly," as she'd heard the word said by those scholarly wizardry sorts up in their tower. Elhaym was desperate to cling to her hopes that Lithrydel was a million, million things; diverse, fantastical, and every bit as wild as the visiting merchants and soldiers and sailors and elves always claimed. But it did not appear to Elhaym, in her adolescent estimation, that she would ever find out for herself. She was a bar wench. She served drinks, collected coins, helped her mother with suppers, and assisted her father in the cleaning. On busy days and festival evenings, she felt her tiny, tiny world spin around her like a maze, rushing from one task to the next. During quieter times, well, that was when she listened. Listened to all the stories. Imagined herself the protagonist of each and every one of them, the brave heroine with all her witty one-liners who never questioned right from wrong. The textbook, quintessential, archetypal, wonder woman. But in truth, the closest she came to any of it was in raising a juvenile mare named Midori, and pining for the day when Midori was old enough to ride, and Elhaym could be trusted to ride into the nearby woods and see the night sky from someplace, any place, other than home.

Lost in thought, Elhaym, in her plain, green dress, and matching shoes, nearly tumbled over one of the few customers currently enjoying a few drinks at the Dancing Destrier. The customer, a rather gaunt woman in an apron with flower print, made a sound not unlike a grunt and stepped around her. "Begging your pardons, ma'am," Elhaym spoke meekly. Flustered with her unending daydreams, the girl worked twice as quickly. This was her life, and it might just be her life forever.

Rilla was ever a wild thing, though no longer the young, cocky girl who’d fallen from grace all those years ago. The last days had been filled with research and endless watching. A shadow near the waters of Cenril and Rynvale as she planned a means of attack – the only way she was getting where she was going was to get one and while she probably could have asked Stitch, that took half of the fun out of it. The young vampire was in and out of libraries, this time with books from the one right next door with little bookmarks poking out from between pages seemingly at random. Auburn curls were pulled up into a messy bun atop of her head, out of the way and out of her eyes, practical if nothing else. She smelled of the sea, a saltiness that was too strong for her liking in stark contrast to the jasmine dabbed behind her ears each day as a way to focus on anything other than all of her other senses. She strode into the inn silently, headed straight for the bar and perched on a stool with one dark boot rested against a wooden leg. Rilla could be unassuming when she wanted to be, mid-twenties and pretty if she’d smile – or so she’d heard. An evening spent reading had creased a little line between her brows, and ink was smeared on the outside of her right hand. She waited patiently, her face already buried back into the book Khitti had given her, head down until the commotion behind her began and ended. Quick and quiet. “I’m sure she accepts your apology.” Rilla said just loud enough for all three parties to hear, but she didn’t turn immediately. Instead she closed the book once more, one hand rested on it before she let it out of her sight. Crystalline gaze studied the girl first and then the patron, and she shook her head before turning back around to the bartop. Fingertips drummed against the hardcover of the book they rested on, something to focus on other than the chatter of the other patrons in their seats. “When you’ve got a moment, I’d kill for a drink.” She flashed a toothy smile to the meek woman, “mead or ale, whatever you recommend. But if I ask for two, tell me no. I have work to do.”

Elhaym might have gaped at this newest arrival, if she hadn't been taught the good sense to remain quick on her feet whenever her profession demanded. Whether it was the words this woman had offered in her defense, or the salty scent that Elhaym had learned to associate with the sea, or even just the pretty way in which the traveler kept her hair, Elhaym could not say. Perhaps it was all of the above, or maybe the girl just couldn't help but fancy anyone who stepped inside the Dancing Destrier in a manner that suggested they had been far beyond the town walls. "Goodness," she breathed, smiling anxiously at several customers on her way to tend the bar. Where was that father of hers? He'd better not have been out drinking again. As mum always said, if he was going to do that sort of thing he ought to have done so inside his own bloody tavern. Elhaym bit her lip slightly to prevent herself from whispering words not fit for others to hear. "I'm happy, h-happy to help you," she told the latest person to entrance her. "Mead," she said more decisively. "Our ale is famous, but our mead is our best-kept secret." As she fetched the lovely, curved bottle of mead and poured with a practiced grace, she giggled nervously. "Not that I've had much of either. Mother prefers to keep me sober until I'm at least twenty." Elhaym placed the glass of mead in front of the customer and nodded along with her own words. "Which is two years from now. Which," she added after a pause, "is a very long time."

Rilla laughed under her breath at the word the girl breathed, how many times had she been there when she was young? Her formative years were spent trapped in a mould that she went on shatter. Twice. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and offered a softer smile at her apparent nervousness. It got easier every day to behave like a person, “thank you.” She said politely, a particularly loud laugh across the room nearly drew her attention away – her smile stiffened and she looked back down, studied the cover of the book once more until the glass was set down in front of her. Rilla looked up with a nod, “probably for the best, full grown men make bad choices when they’re drunk, teenagers are even worse.” She almost laughed, it colored her tone and she lifted the glass to her lips for a sip. Drinking was never her vice, but liquid courage was sometimes necessary to avoid cold feet. She set the glass back down on the counter, thin fingers traced over the smooth surface automatically. “You were right though, better than any ale.” Rilla agreed as she studied the girl for a beat, her head tilted to one side slightly. “When I was your age, I definitely didn’t listen to my mother.” A lopsided grin pulled across her face and she shifted forward on the stool. “When I was your age I hadn’t seen my mother in at least 4 years, still haven’t been back there.” She mused and took another sip of her drink. There was likely nothing left to go back to and no love lost there from the way her eyes sparkled with some sort of inside-joke.

Elhaym tried but failed to suppress a startled blink. She had nodded along, even smirked here and there, with everything else that her present patron had told her. It was true that Elhaym didn't always follow her mother's explicit instructions, even if she tended to find a way to give mum the impression that she had. The loud laughter of an inebriated man in a corner of the tavern didn't faze the girl. That was almost an hourly occurrence. The notion of not seeing one's family for over four years shook her to the core. "Wow," was all that Elhaym could initially bring herself to say. "I mean, um, wow." Hardly the follow-up she needed if she was to impress this guest into thinking she was mature for her age -- which was a constant goal of hers, of course. "I'm sorry. I simply cannot imagine. Family is everything here in Xalious. Unless you're a mage, maybe. I'm not sure how they run things up in the tower, but I do know that many of them hail from farther away than I've ever been." That was an understatement, but it made Elhaym sound more experienced, so she couldn't resist the phrasing. "And, well, I suppose I'm especially close with mum and pa. They're excellent parents, pa's drinking habits aside," she hastily included. "Some stew, and a full loaf of that bread your father bakes," someone shouted from afar. "Coming," Elhaym answered, though afterward she uncharacteristically waited a moment to see if the woman she had been conversing with had anything to say. Whoever she was, she was the most interesting person to step inside the Dancing Destrier all week.

Rilla || Judging by the look on Elhaym’s face, Rilla had surprised her with something. Wasn’t everyone here without family? At least they had been when she’d lived here, perhaps the world had settled down. She gave an amused shake of her head, a knowing smile flashed across her face as she lifted the glass back to her lips, took another drink. “Not everyone wants to be what their family wants from them.” It had been that simple, although how she’d come to be back here was really where things turned into an interesting story anyway if she’d had any interest in telling it. Brows furrowed when the man started to shout his order, her shoulders tensed, frozen and then released with a breath. Before the girl could step away she spoke under her breath, “do you always let people talk to you like that?” She didn’t wait for an answer, and instead turned in her seat to face the voice from across the room and flashed a bright smile to the stranger. “Stay here –“ She instructed, and gave a warning glance to the girl before Rilla crossed the room, leaned up against a table next to his. “Don’t worry, just here to talk –“ She assured the stranger, with raised hands, her own nerves consistently calmed by having a focus or in this case, something to protect. “Have you ever considered that yelling for the attention of the people handling your food and drink might not be wise? If she doesn’t spit in your drink, I will.” Her voice was low, Rilla had always counted on the disconnect between the way she looked and what she did, although it had been a long time since such a thing had come in handy. “When I get back to my seat, she’ll help you and when she brings you your food, you’re going to say please and thank you.” One hand patted her thigh, a silent threat as she drew the attention to the blades she wore not-very-well-hidden today. “Got it?”

Whatever awe that Elhaym was stricken with at the oddly liberating concept of a person who defied her family's wishes -- she would remember this for later -- was soon replaced by the gaping jaw she couldn't prevent when her companion enacted her plan. "Holy," the girl mumbled. Out of habit, she almost ran to the man whom the woman had spoken to so aggressively and apologized profusely. She felt her legs stiffen and her knees straighten like a ruler. Something was holding her back. At first, she attributed the sensation to anxiety; anxiety over how best to handle a terrifying situation. Seconds later, she caught herself feeling something else entirely. It was almost as if that liberation Elhaym had just experienced was turning into a full-fledged flutter of pure excitement. Quickly closing her mouth, she smirked. The smirk felt foreign on her lips. Had she ever smirked so fully? The man who had just been accosted flashed anger before visibly quaking in his seat. All around him, other customers laughed. A few of them cheered. Not only was he outnumbered, but in Elhaym's estimation, he might have been downright afraid of his accuser. "I'm so sorry," he said. It was as meek as Elhaym's apology to the boisterous, gaunt woman that this fascinating guest had first chided. "Won't happen again, Madam… uh, whatever your name is." He gulped. "A madam, indeed, regardless. And you," he said to Elhaym, this time far quieter, "are very much taking my apology as well, lass. Please do not spit." The request brought a fresh round of laughter, this time from nearly everybody in the tavern. Including, amazingly, Elhaym herself. As the girl fetched his bread and poured his stew, her legs and knees were able again, and she walked with such newfound confidence that numerous other customers, regulars here, took notice. "No spit," she told the man. "But do wipe yours from the table before you leave. Yelling seems to have caused multiple problems."

Rilla didn’t normally make a habit of involving herself in other people’s issues, but realistically what did she have to lose? He was a human, if she decided she was done with him, she could eat him and it would be over. There was still a rush standing up to people, one that she’d almost missed in all of her time spent as a shadow. “Excellent.” She agreed when the man relented, the smile that spread across her face finally touched her eyes, amused with the reaction that she garnered. Rilla stood then, pushed off from the table she’d leaned against to return to her spot at the bar. She kept an ear out, perked up to make sure that if nothing else the man could follow instructions when she *wasn’t* looking right at him. Her frame shook with quiet laughter at Elhaym’s words, she glanced over her shoulder and so quickly one might miss it, she shot her a wink. Good for her, speaking up for herself even if it took someone else doing it first. Turning back to the counter, she wrapped both hands around her glass once more, fingers tapping against the smooth surface idly before she tipped the glass back and drained it, set it back on the countertop with a gentle clink. Didn’t she have work to do? Although defending the honour of young girls was hardly a waste of time.

Elhaym held onto that smirk, savoring it until she was on the business side of the bar again. "Thank you," she said to today's heroine. Stories read and told were where she had found heroines in the past, but today that happened in realtime. Maybe, just maybe, this tavern wouldn't be her life forever. "I'm Elhaym. My friends call me Elly. And," she said with a flourish and a bow, "someday I'm going to leave here on an adventure." An adventure of her very own. A story she could then tell and transcribe herself rather than waiting on others to do so for her. Something new. Something grand. Something beyond the walls of Xalious Village.