RP:Think You're Up For It?
Summary: Xiem comes back to SoulsKin for Lita to check on how well his tattoo is healing before he leaves Rynvale. He ends up offering to fix the deck on her Villa when he returns.
SoulsKin
There is a faded message painted across this shop's front door which reads, abandon all Hope. It may be just cryptic enough to pique your curiosity... Two glass display cases dominate the center of the room, filled with trinkets and jewels from around the world. In the back corner, beneath the stairs that lead to a second floor, there is a bookshelf with a comfy armchair next to it. A low work table lines the entirety of the western wall, a couple of chairs and a bench sitting in front of it. There is a curtained partition, for those that might wish to have their ink work or body modifications done in privacy. The work table is usually littered with bottles of ink in various colors and sketches of viable tattoo designs. Feel free to chat up the artists who might be working if you're interested in having some work done.
Lita has been grateful to have a bit of downtime in the last few days. Between the Cenril bazaar, new business, and now this upcoming tournament, things had been pretty hectic. It had been nice to just sit around the beach house for a few days and enjoy the sand and ocean. Or so it would have been. Except she enjoys peace about as much as a splinter these days. So the hammock was restrung and new flowers planted and the front porch painted. She'd stopped at redoing the back deck. Mostly because that was outside her expertise and while she could figure out how to tear it down, rebuilding it seemed like a far bigger project than she was willing to take on. So, back to the shop then, where at least there were art supplies to keep her company. Thankfully, Cal had patched the floor where Kyori had put a hole in it. It wasn't pretty but it got the job done. And so she was stretched out on the couch at the front of the shop, sketchbook and pencil in hand, dressed in the usual little black sundress with her knees drawn up a bit to support the sketchbook she was working in.
Xiembantointh returns as requested to get his inkwork checked up. He appears the same in keeping his hair short and his beard mostly trimmed down, leaving a bit of stubble. He'd been excitable all day and positively annoyed his Cyni, but she is happy to see him back to his old antics. Xiem thinks the piece healed beautifully, but it is safe to let the artist be the judge of that. When he meanders in, there is something he is holding behind his back as he strides over to the couch and presents her with two fresh sketch books along with more pencils, smudging sticks, charcoal, etc. All the stuff artists are almost always in need of as he explains, "I saw these and thought you could get some use out of them. I know I constantly run out of the large rolls of parchment I work on. From one sort-of-artist," he gestures to himself, "to a much more proficient one," and then he gestures to her. His gaze takes her in, in her element and sketching peacefully, but he doesn't want to stare as he redirects his gaze to anything else. Unfortunately, as a contractor he cannot help but to notice the patched floor and points at it while asking, "oh my. Lita, what happened there?" Most guys might get all panicked that Lita is working in a dangerous environment, but he asks out of genuine curiosity because Lita seems like the type that she can handle herself.
Lita is about to announce the shop is closed, not because it is but because she's comfy and doesn't want to get up to entertain more tourists, when she looks up to see Xiem strolling through the doorway. She'd been hoping he'd stop by and had worried he might already have and found her absent. "Hey you." She manages, her smile broadening as she moves to sit up a bit. She might have said more except he's handing her things. Gifts. And for a moment she stares down at all these things gathered in her lap, feeling grateful and somehow undeserving. She's not used to getting gifts out of nowhere. And it's not often she's left speechless. Lithe fingers dance across each item, one by one, as if still trying to figure out if they're real and a slow blush washes through her cheeks. It doesn't last. "Thank you." She says softly. She should say he shouldn't have or that she couldn't accept them but the words feel far away and he's asking about the floor. She lifts her gaze up to meet his eyes again finally, for a moment still trying to figure out just where the hell he'd come from. "Oh, you know how it is." She waves a hand, remembering how to have a conversation suddenly. She stands to set all these beautiful things he's brought her atop one of the display cases. "Say the wrong thing, piss off a magic user." That was only half true, really. Kyori hadn't meant to do it. "Kidding, mostly. Some guys just can't handle their arsenic." That last part might have been a quote from a song she'd heard once. She waves a hand at him again. "How's it look?" She gestures towards his chest where that tattoo was, eager to see it again since it's healed.
Xiembantointh is happy to make those cheeks turn rosy and he feels victorious. Once she takes hold of the items, she will feel the leather facings to be of quality with a smoothness to them, but sturdy for portable sketching and the copper spring-like binding is ingenious for flipping the pages fully. The leather carrying case for the sketching utensils matches the color of the sketch pads and it might be obvious that the gift is thoughtful, but he didn't want it to be too flashy because he wants her to use it! "Please, anything to support wonderful artists such as yourself," he lets out a joyous chuckle and winks down at her. He holds out a hand to help her off the couch if she will allow it and listens to the story with a knowing grin, "yeah. I've seen plenty of it. You know, with a rowdy work crew like mine," he shrugs before cautiously coming close to the patched area and testing it with a step. "Patch work looks alright, but if you want something longer lasting, I will be happy to fix it up for you." Then her question takes him by surprise as he kind of forgot that is the whole reason he came here, "oh!" He pulls up the hem of his simple burgundy short sleeved tee shirt to show her how the artwork looks just as vibrant and beautiful as when he left. He obviously took very good care of the piece. "I think it still looks great!" Then there is that infectious grin shining down on her.
Lita lets her hands linger on the sketchbooks. The quality of them isn't lost on her. She tends to drag her art supplies through her travels and they get pretty banged up so she spends a good bit of money on better quality pieces. She's some idea of what he's spent on her and she still doesn't feel worthy of it but she's grateful for it, more than she knows how to express just now. But they will most assuredly be well loved! "I think it gives the place a bit more character," she says of the floor. "Battle scars and all." She could ask him about the deck at the beach house though. She's no idea when Leo had it replaced last, prior to gifting the house to her some years ago. But she knows she never replaced it. And facing the ocean, it took a bit of a beating from the ocean. She's about to mention it but then he's lifting his shirt to show her the tattoo and she takes her time lifting her eyes to meet the ink. She'd been human once. And even if she hadn't, she's not blind. Xiem is all but carved of stone. "It looks good." She says, even before her gaze settles on the tattoo and she makes herself focus again. Right. She lifts a hand to trace a finger around one of the roses and that soft skyline of Frostmaw and her smile touches the corners of her eyes. "It looks amazing on you. I'm really glad and honored you let me do it." She draws her hand away again, taking a half step back to lean her hip back against that display case. "Actually, I was hoping you might have some time in your schedule to take a look at the deck on my beach house? It takes a pretty good bite from the ocean and all. I mean, I know you guys are busy with other projects but maybe you could pencil me in for sometime after? Or maybe you'll come see it and tell me everything's fine. I just don't want it collapsing under my hammock in the middle of the night."
Xiembantointh grins at her mention of battle scars, "I like that. Character. If a customer gets hurt falling through, don't say I didn't warn you," he means as a playful tease, but he might just be looking for excuses to come around and then her gaze is lingering on him in ways he did not expect. Sure, he's had a couple of flings after his mourning, but it has been some time since someone looked at him like she is looking at him right now and it's not like he walks around shirtless for people to gawk. His cheeks take on a slightly rosy hue as his heart beats a little faster under her touch and he swallows hard because his mouth suddenly feels dry as he tries to find words. Her smile shoots through him in the way it reaches her eyes and he clears his throat softly to finally say, "I am only so lucky to have an artist take such care for it to look as amazing as it does. I mean it," there is no flattery aimed there, just facts. He lets the shirt fall in place once she takes a half-step back and she piques his interest, "oh?" Lucky him, as she presents a reason to come around all by herself! "Sounds pretty important," he brushes past her, maybe on purpose as he heads to the door, holding it open. "Lead the way," he flips the sign to 'CLOSED' before gesturing outward, still grinning.
Lita finds it a bit impressive in the way he decides that they're leaving now to go see this beach house project she's proposed, not taking No for an answer as he even flips the shop sign on the door and she grins to herself, gathering the art supply gifts he's brought for her. No way was she leaving those for Cal to get his grubby hands on, even just to move them around! She cradles them close to her chest with both arms wrapped around them, protective, as if at any moment someone might try to take them. Art bandits, probably. All the rage these days. "It's not far." She promises as the door closes behind them. She stears him just south of the tourist district and away from the busy docks of the harbor. The noise is always louder there and she waits to say anything until they've passed, a less traveled path leading past a larger villa and a stretch of private beach, the only other building in sight a quaint little beach house. "I really do appreciate this." She says, still clutching to the art supplies. "I was away for a couple of years and just started giving the house a bit of love in the last few months but honestly decorating and renovations on this scale has never really been my forte." It could probably use a fresh coat of paint but it's fairly charming from the outside. Messy rows of wildflowers lead to a smaller porch out front, the front door and windows open and rarely locked these days. Light off-white curtains move in the breeze that drifts lazily up from the ocean, which is mere yards away. She leads him through the sand towards the back deck, a larger number likely added after the house's original construction. There's a hammock tied to taller posts in one corner and the rope of it looks far newer than the wood deck itself. While it had been crafted well, it had not seen much of anything in the way of upkeeping. She stretches out an arm to indicate the deck, "Well, this is it." And then she turns to face him, watching him carefully, hoping he won't say the entire thing has to go. Or that if it does, maybe it can be rebuilt.
Beachside Villa
A worn path edged by beach primrose leads up to the stained-teak porch of this spacious, seaside villa. The foundation is built upon thick stilts that lift this island architecture only a few feet above the sand, allowing that ocean breeze to flow under the house to keep it naturally cool, as well as providing safety from a high tide flood. The interior beyond is simple: wicker and wood furniture, a short bar and bottle rack built into a back wall. Rooms for rest remain behind closed doors, and only a few exotic trinkets line the shelves. Large, open windows are dressed with the vintage, velvet curtains selected long ago by it's original owner, framing that paradise view of tumbling waves and swaying bitter panicum.
Xiembantointh walks alongside her and as they walk through the bustling streets, a few people greet the guy warmly with a handshake or happy wave of hello. He almost seems like walking sunshine as he radiates infectious joy and he would introduce Lita to the friend's he's made here in Rynvale even though they probably know her anyway! He's just polite that way because it seems rude not to. "Don't mention it," he says just as they reach the villa. Here he makes a harmless little joke as he gently nudges her with his elbow, "I like it, it's got character." His azure gaze drinks in the cozy space as he also takes in the horizon. "I can see why you like it here," he mentions while pulling free a small flip book for note taking and a bit of writing charcoal. As she takes him on a little tour of the home, he simply looks around with a content smile on his face, but refrains from making any notes just yet. If she wanted more done to her place, that is for her to decide and he doesn't want to make her feel pressured into changing it if she doesn't want to. He has seen Lita in action and now it is time for her to see him, but it isn't much more than him narrowing his eyes at details, tapping on things here or there and scribbling notes in messy left-handed writing. After finding the center of the old deck, he gives it a test by jumping up and down a couple of times so it shakes ominously. "Yeah, that isn't great, Lita," he puts his flip notebook away back into his back pocket and hooks his thumbs in the loops for his belt. "I mean, you could probably get another year out if it, but if I were you, I'd fix it up soon," he says while leaning against the railing of the deck. "If you could have your deck however you wished it, what would it look like? Would you want any extra amenities?" This part, he would usually take more notes, but he will remember and if he doesn't… then that just gives him more of a reason to bother her.
Lita doesn't mind showing him around. There are often people in and out of the place between the rogues and Cal's boys. But she watches Xiem, the way he seems to see beneath it all to the bones of the place. The way he doesn't seem to notice the sparse furnishings or lack of personal accouterments. Unlike her shop, which is often the epitome of a messy artist's den and haven, the house barely feels like it's been lived in. She leaves the art supplies on the kitchen island as they move through the house and she cringes a little when he jumps onto the deck and it wobbles a bit beneath him. That could have gone so badly. She follows him out to the railing and leans against it, staring out at the ocean as she chews over his words. "Honestly, I've no idea." She answers him carefully. "I never imagined myself living in a house, much less owning one. I kept a room at the Inn in Cenril when I first came here and that was fine with me. Then my wife and I married and this home was gifted to us by dear friends. Neither one of us bothered with any sort of decorating but she insisted on wildflowers out front. Said the fancy plants that were there were too neat and orderly for the likes of us." She smiles briefly at the memory but it fades quickly. "And then when she was gone, I couldn't stand to be here. It was just a well of ghosts and pain and I stayed away for a long time. For whatever reason I could drum up." She turns her back to the railing then, looking across the deck as if for the first time. She glances at the hammock and then turns to look up at him. "I love the hammock. It definitely has to stay. Maybe a little firepit would be nice? I don't know if that's such a good idea on a wood deck though."
Xiembantointh understands that way of living more than he would like to admit at this time, but there is recognition in his gaze as she speaks of how painful it is to be here. He takes a deep breath of the salty ocean air and lets a moment of quiet rest between them, "maybe you will agree that the home here has done its mourning and maybe it is ready for some attention, some love and the care it deserves." Maybe it is more than just these walls and deck that he is referencing. "The home I knew is long gone, but hibernating for two hundred years will do that," his grin is gentle and kind again. "In my opinion, nothing is better than claiming a place you can call home and where you feel safe. That is what brought me to take in ex-convicts and the homeless deemed unhirable for a program I call, Building a Dream, where they help build a house which they live in afterward. A few of my crew ended up staying on because they wanted to. This world is harsh enough on all of us and then these people don't have a place to call home. That is why I named my construction company after Nildran," he grins through the tears threatening. "I continue to bring light in her memory and that is all we can do for our lost loved ones. Giving their memory purpose and keeping it alive through creation," he clears his throat which has become a little wavering with emotion and blinks the tears away. "I'm sorry," he lets out a short chuckle, feeling like they got off topic, but he definitely isn't apologizing for his emotions because everyone is allowed to have them. "A firepit on a deck is doable, but it wouldn't be able to be a covered deck. I could build steps that will lead into a fire ring dug into the sand?"
Lita hadn't taken two hundred years to get to some place where she felt like she could try and be better, something different, someone different. But she hadn't been able to hibernate through it either. She wasn't sure if that would have been better though. Either way there was bitterness and darkness and hatred and hurt that just led to missing someone more than you thought possible. Lita had never seen herself as the type to get married. Now she struggled to see herself as a widow. She loops her arm with his and squeezed his forearm in a gentle affection when he mentions the house needing some deserved love and affection. The undercurrent of his sentiment isn't lost on her and she smiles softly for him. "That's why you're here." She manages. And realizing her words, is quick to stutter, "To help, I hope." She had meant to add -with the house- but the words stuck in her throat and the amusement in his features is soft, thankfully, though that might have also been for the embarrassment suddenly flushing in her cheeks again. He tells her a bit more about his business and how he works to help better the community. It's admirable but she's not surprised. It suits him, this mantle of nobility he's taken up. Though that might have come with his age too. "I think that's a beautiful thing." She says about keeping the memories of loved ones alive through creation. "I don't think I let myself mourn losing her until my hound died." She'd leave out the bit about the mage and darker bits of that tale just yet, though the thought of it touches a shadow to her eyes as she draws her arm away from him slowly. "When he was here, it was easy to talk to him about her and even pretend she were just off on her ship on another job, that she'd be back any day." The words caught in her throat some. "I think it was like losing the last part of her, this last bit of hope." She turns to face him fully at length, leaning her hip against the deck's railing. "A fire ring in the sand sounds nice actually." She lifts her hand to his forearm again to draw his eyes back to her. "Don't apologize. You are surprisingly easy to talk to. It's not something I'm used to, honestly."
Xiembantointh left out the part he had been mourning his late wife for nearly a hundred years before his hibernation and he will be the first one to admit that doing so didn't make the pain go away… It was right there waiting for him when his slumber was over. With the business, some friends he has made recently and the tattoo Lita graciously created for him - he is finding his way through the fog. Her little squeeze of affection is welcome and met with his other arm crossing over his torso to gently rest on her arm looped through his own. He picks up on her choice of words and the stuttering, but he pretends not to so she doesn't scare herself away. This moment is small, but it feels precious in its own way; as if a butterfly has just landed on him and he doesn't dare move the wrong way to spook it. "Thank you, Lita," he grins down at her, internally memorizing the way she is still blushing at her words. "I'm so sorry, what was your hound's name," he asks out of genuine curiosity. It doesn't matter to him how the hound left this world because that is Lita's own story that she can share wherever she is good and ready, but he does feel her pulling away and a pit starts to form in his stomach. He turns when she does as he listens to her, hanging on every word while he plants his palm on the railing to lean on it, "I cannot even imagine." He looks over where the fire pit might go when she mentions it, but is drawn right back in at her touch and smiles at her words. "It isn't? I'm glad you're comfortable opening up to me. I actually don't talk about my wife often and don't even bring her up in conversation when I talk about my kids. Only a few people know, but I had no choice when it came to getting my tattoo done and I am really glad it ended up being you who helped me." Maybe it would be too soon to admit that he felt comfortable upon meeting her, as if they've been good friends for a while already, so he keeps that to himself for now.
Lita would have run from these moments a year ago. The delicate intimacy of them and the vulnerability it was wrought with. But even though she looks away from him, even though the temptation to pull away from him entirely is there, she doesn't throw herself into it like she would have. Baby steps. Progress. His hand on her arm is a welcomed comfort, somehow makes her feel grounded. "Chio." She says softly when he asks about the name of her hound. "We found him up in Frostmaw, stuck in a cave. Probably been down there since the Chaos hit, he was ugly as sin." She braces her palms against the railing and jumps a little to sit on it, her toes off the ground as she swings her legs a little. "I went back to scatter most of his ashes after. It seemed only right." She leans sideways into him some when he gets all sentimental about her helping him open up about his wife. One more thing they had in common, it seemed. She glances over her shoulder some at the sand beyond, maybe where a fire pit might end up, and then back at him again, that sapphire gaze more familiar than it was before and drawing an easy smile from her. "Think you're up for it?" She asks. And then, despite the coy grin at the purposeful double entendre she adds, "The deck, of course." Maybe.
Xiembantointh smiles again at the name of her hound, "it's a wonderful name." Then he watches her as she gracefully leaps up on the railing even though it doesn't seem all too sturdy, but she makes it work. There is a little stifled chuckle when she says her pet was ugly as sin, "you should have seen the things my dragon welps drug home to deem as pets. One time my little Yghyder brought home a mound of moss and demanded everyone pet it… we had no heart to tell her it wasn't an actual animal." Xiem sturdies himself so she can lean on him, but then she is looking up at him with a smile that he returns in kind. He oddly looks comfortable in the tense air between the question posed and the redirections to punctuate it. In this moment he sure as heck hopes she isn't human, but almost anyone he meets isn't human when they look like it. He raises a hand up so the tip of his middle finger can shift an unruly raven lock from her face which steals his gaze away only for a second before it locks back on her's, "I think I am up for renewing the deck." His gaze slips down to her lips and he continues, "I go back to the mainland tonight and I'll be finishing up some projects there for the next month, maybe month and a half. I'll be back here then to work on my daughter's new house, and I'll work on the deck myself on the off days." This next month is going to suck… royally. He makes sure she is holding herself up before gently pulling himself from her and then he takes her hand. Is it cold for her? Maybe it is just his imagination, but then he places a soft peck on the back of her hand before backing away towards the door, "write to me if you think of anything else you'd like." He returns that coy grin, "about your new deck." Then he finds his way out of her house to walk to the port which is silly because he's a dragon and can just fly, but lots of people panic seeing a white dragon, so he just doesn't.
Lita has to hold her breath when he reaches a hand out to brush stray curls behind her ear. When his gaze flickers to the pout of her lips. Her fingers curl around the railing tighter, stifling barely the temptation to lean forward and try and kiss him. She's been so bold in the past but this doesn't quite feel like a moment that calls for boldness. This gentleness he affords her that she doesn't want to sway. She wants to tell him that he doesn't need to try and kill himself to get the deck done. That he can do it after or recommend another contractor even. But the chance to get to see him shirtless again is a possibility she's excited for. So she lets him go, biting at her lower lip. She makes a mental note about having to write to him and ask what kinds of food and drinks he likes, so she can make sure the kitchen is at least decently stocked for his visits. No sense letting him starve if he's here working. "I'll do that." She answers him, his grin infectious. Clearly, he wasn't all noble chivalry. Maybe there's a darker side of his humor she can try to poke to light then. Even more intriguing.