RP:Two Different Men

Rayala sits at the edge of Kelay Way, along the trees across the dirt road from the restaurant. She is humanoid in appearance, mostly, though her face is framed by small, golden scales that splatter her skin, growing evenly down from her temples and spreading across her neck into a more evenly-plated pattern. The pale skin of her face is marred by a paler-still scar that strikes across closed eyes and spreads triangularly out over the dragon's right cheek. The rest of her body, what can be seen of it, at least, is petite and toned, also plated with scales. These are larger as they spread down her chest only the tops of which is visible, due to an over-sized, very baggy button-down shirt that hangs off her frame and hides leathery wings at her back. One arm seems to be made of metal, the other is clearly flesh; both upper limbs are lined with her scales -- even the runed, metal right arm has them set into its surface. And here the gold that flashes in the afternoon sun is marked with white-gold spirals, gleaming and glinting in a way matched only by the long, blonde, messy tresses that fall from the druid's head. Rayala's legs are crossed beneath her and covered by a long, sweeping skirt with thick layers and many pockets. What can be seen of her feet reveals that the right leg, too, seems to be made of metal -- though lacking either golden scales or runed markings -- while her left foot is bare and speckled with tiny scales that grow larger as they extend up the lower extremity. At the dragon's side, a very large hound sits, as well, chaotic, mutated. He is as big as the dragon, in this form, seated as she is, and the great, horned brute of a beast acts as a deterrent in this busy Way to any who would endeavor to speak with his master. Despite Rayala's closed eyes, it is clear she is not asleep. Behind her lids, her eyes dart back and forth, occasionally, as the druid thinks lazily on one subject or another. Occasionally, a violet blooms at her left knee from the hard-packed dirt beneath, seeking to nuzzle at flesh, only to be waved away by a distracted hand.

Tyler makes his way down the battered old path that leads directly through the center of the small Kelay Village. The human not much different looking from the rest of the crowd, though his clothing consist only of a pair of ragged, dirty jeans, a wrinkled black shirt, a torn pair of boots and a set of very over-sized gloves. The man's hair, usually brown, has recently been dyed a solid black that reflects a vibrant blue when light strikes it. These are his only outstanding features and he would likely go unnoticed by Rayala, except as he is passing he stares at her. Those caramel hues of his beaming brightly as he examines the resting druid before fear strikes him at the sight of the abomination of a canine beside her. Being distracted, all it takes is the outstretched foot of one rather hateful elven teenager passing by to send Tyler face first into the dirt just before Rayala. He lands with an 'Umph!' and sends dust flying into the air. A trickle of blood falling from his right nostril to stain the dirt a nice crimson. 'Maybe I'll die if I just lay here...' he considers after making literally no attempt to pick himself up from the ground, but instead moving his arms to shield his embarrassed face.

Rayala can't possibly have seen the teen trip this stranger, and yet the teen, as he makes his hasty retreat to laugh about the tripping of a man and boast how strong a warrior he is to some pathetic friends, will find himself being trailed by daisies that pop up after him in the road. And when he stops, for he will stop, or slow his pace, at some point, perhaps to cross the road, perhaps to meet a friend, those daisies will gather on his boots, and then his pants, multiplying at a certain druid's behest until they are woven together and covering most of the youth's clothing and hair. Arajakata --for that is the name of this great hound -- seems far less menacing, now that he is laughing. Perhaps he has been at the recieving end of this punishment so many times that he enjoys greatly the humiliation it will bear on another? Meanwhile, the dragon fixes her attention on the man in the road. It is an effort for her to rise, it seems, but she does -- Ara is all business, now, as he presses to his master's side, helping to lift her to her feet, the one steady, the other far less so. But it is not without a sort of grace, or perhaps it is dignitiy, that the movement happens. And with her eyes still closed, the dragon makes her way over to Tyler, taking careful, slow steps. Her left leg takes even strides, her right is thrust forward to match it, swinging slightly sideways before planting a prosthetic food solidly enough in the road to bear the woman's weight. Now that Rayala is closer to Tyler, a golden, faintly glowing flower in her hair might be seen, with runed marking on its petals that seem to match those on her arm, at least what can be seen of those on either. She is not tall, and she looks more weary than strong, but she extends this runed hand in Tyler's general direction. A gentle breeze picks up around the druid and grazes easily across Tyler's face, then travelling down to ruffle his clothes and cause a pebble or two to roll. It a cool and soothing thing that returns to Rayala shortly thereafter, whispering its secrets in her ear. "Help you up?" Rayala offers in a gentle, breathy voice, the tone of which is as light as the breeze had been, yet as substantial as a summer storm.

Tyler feels his stomach turn as he hears someone approaching. Multiple scenarios run through his head. Perhaps they were going to kick him? Spit on him? Hell, perhaps even kill him and loot the body? But none of these things seem to happen. The soft breeze rushes over the human and his eyes are forced to squint as the chilled wind causes them to water. Then the gentle voice rings out to catch his attention. He snaps to face Rayala and swallows hard when he finds the mutated beast near her. "Urgh... Um..." He stammers. The man has never come across a creature so elegant nor unique during his stay in Hollow. He's struggling to gather his thoughts and his mouth is dry. The canine still intimidates him, as made obvious by his constant twitching glance to the beast. Finally, a stressful bouncing sigh emits from the man before he extends a dirt covered palm to take hold of Rayala's hand and use it to aid in pulling himself to his feet. As soon as the soles of his feet are back in contact with the ground his head drops to avoid eye contact with both Rayala and her companion. "Thank you." He whispers in a hushed tone as he moves his left hand to grip at his right arm in embarrassment still. The blood from his nostril dripping to stain his face.

Rayala would hardly classify herself as either elegant or unique. But she does seem to like being helpful. Arajakata watches the man in the street for reproach, trying to decide if the fear there is genuine, or some sort of ploy. He must decide it to be real, as he chooses that moment to sit, again, lower his head a bit, and look up at Tyler's face with curious, rather than ferocious, dark amber eyes. Rayala bears the weight of the rising man easily with her metal hand, and as she lowers it back to her side, the flower in her hair pulses a bit brighter, then maintains its low glow again. The dragon frowns, a pale brow knitting together over still-closed eyes and wrinkling the scar that crosses them. "You're okay," she says, gently. "I didn't help you up to hurt you." A gentle smile -- that comes off more like a grin than anything else, open, honest, humble. "What's bleeding? Did you hit your head? Hang on.." She squats. It is a slow process, mainly undergone by one leg, the more solid left, while the other is used for balance. Except, balance isn't really had by a one-armed one-legged dragon who was clumsy on land to begin with, and so she throws out her left arm as well, the one which isn't a magical prosthetic, to the side, to keep her from toppling over. Arajakata looks lazily over and crosses behind Rayala to stand at her left, in case she should need to grasp hold of his fur. Steady, now, the druid rests her hand against the now-nearby earth and whispers a, "Hey there. Can you be a red vine for a bit?" to a patch of weeds. It appears that the plants can, in fact, be a red vine. They wiggle their leaves and eagerly use Rayala's magic to shift. Fondling the leaves of this new plant tenderly, she plucks a few, dismisses it with a "Thank you," and endeavors to rise again, wobbling slightly, as her left foot has fallen asleep. "I can help. With whatever's bleeding."

Tyler keeps his head down, eyes shying away from the druid as his confusion deepens at the morphing of the plant life. His curiosity is peaked as he ponders what sort of mana must run through the woman's veins to allow her to do something so extravagant. As she offers aid, he remains still in his stance still unsure what to make of the entire situation. His face still a dirty red from embarrassment and a small hint of frustration. Though he would eventually shift to face Rayala, making eye contact only for a moment, allowing her to see the source of his blood. He then nods once, before turning back to the ground.

Rayala has no eye contact to make, not really. When finally the dragon opens her eyes, the sight within is unusual. There are no pupils to be seen, no lines of color. Rather, there is a misty storm of whites and greys, endlessly swirling in slow patterns, mixing and pressing, like a hurricaine viewed from above. Specks of gold, fragments of obsidian flash within, occasionally, like shattered gemstones, scattering. The druid stares, blindly, blinking occaisionally against the light of the day. "Where are you bleeding?" she says, and in the meantime the leaves are drying rapidly. And while the fingers of her left hand grind them to powder in her metal right, Rayala offers a small smile, hoping to put this nervous man at ease.

Tyler shifts at the sight of Rayala's eyes. The human fears peaked as he grows uneasy and feels himself hard pressed to keep down his lunch. Despite the beauty and wonder of the eyes, it still left Tyler queasy and disturbed. He was, human after all. Another stressful sigh emits from the panicked man followed by a barely audible whine. "Mm-My, My nose." he struggles to proclaim onto the swallow hard and grit his teeth. He is unable to keep focused on the druid any longer and allows his own eyes to fall shut.

Rayala winces at the stressed sigh; tears prick at her eyes as keen ears pick up the whine. Ara, freed from his flowers, now, shuffles close to her and nuzzles her side affectionately, comforting the woman, perhaps, who does her best to not let her feelings show. "I know," she says, trying to make light of the whole thing, trying to force a smile on her face. "I'm not exactly a sight for sore eyes." her cheeks flish pink against white against gold.her eyes blink, rapidly, and close. "Anyway, here. Inhale the smallest pinch of this--it won't sting, but you may feel a bit dry in the nose area for an hour or two. It's red vine...good at clotting blood. " She holds out the now-powdery substance to te man, for him to take. "And then you can run from me all you like."

Tyler suddenly hates himself. Guilt rushing over him as he regrets being so quick to judge the Druid. Reaching up to extend his right palm he turns her hand with the left and catches the contents. He doesn't hesitate to snort the medication causing him to gain a set of watery eyes and a suppressed cough. "Thank you." He calls out after getting over the intial effect of the herbal medicine. Wiping the excess blood from his nose and lip he speaks once more, "I shall not run. I'm sorry for being rude and a coward. Such is the way of the human race... I shouldn't judge so quickly, one who is offering me aid." Tyler looks to the canine companion and decides to weigh in his options. He tries his luck and reaches out to gently tough Rayala's non-cybernetic shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Rayala seems as shocked by the apology as she had been saddened by the frar, it seems, but shock isn't enough to dim the genuine smile that flicks across her face. "You're fine, don't worry. It isn't exactly as though I'm the nicest thing to look at. Not that I would know," she laughs, effortlessly, at the blindness. She waves her hand absently. "And humans are what you are. Not cowardly, not rude. No more so than any other race. Less so, perhaps, I'd say, if we're being completely honest. A shorter lifespan and more easily harmed than other races, to be certain, but to face ones fears, to grow, to learn," she shrugs. "There is no life without death, not real living, anyway. And there is no courage without fear, no hope without despair." She frowns a bit. "I'm rambling. That's me. I'm a rambl..." She is cut off by a hand to her shoulder, by a genuine apology. A look of panic crises her face, but te hound beside her has made no move to attacK. In light of this, she takes a deep breath. "I'm a bit jumpy, too," she murmurs gently, apologetically. "I have some water and a cloth," she spurts out rapidly, changing the subject. "If you need a wash. Noses know how to bleed, they do." She follows this with two nods.

Tyler isn't sure what to make of Rayala but fear has all but left him. The human much more curious than before and as she 'compliments' his race he feels a flush running across his face. "Erm. Yeah. I guess I could get cleaned up a bit..." He states in response to her offer of the water and cloth. Thoughts of her jumping at his touch run rampant through the males mind as he tries to figure this one out. She wasn't a human, that was for damn sure. In fact, she was anything but. The man had still seen nothing like her, and he'd even befriended two dragons already! He waits patiently for the offered items and when presented would go about cleaning his face off.

Rayala smiles. "Ara. You heard the man." Ara rises to his feet slowly, his tail twitching. "Go grab my pack." Ara trits off into the trees, not too far in, after casting a warning glance back at Tyler. "oh, hush," Rayala murmurs, as though she can -hear- that look. "He isn't going to hurt me." She laughs. "It isn't like I have anything left to take." Ara turns away with an amicable huff, but only after rolling his eyes, slightly, to Tyler, as if saying, -you see what I have to deal with?- When the pack has been retrieved, Rayala withdraws a glass bottle and a soft towel. Her metal digits clink lightly around the bottle's surface as she holds it steady for her left hand to pull out the top. "Might want to step back. I keep breaking things, with this hand," she warns as she tilts the bottle,but she wets the towel, nicely, without incident, only at one end, leaving the other for drying purposes. She holds it out to the man. "There!" She says, rather proudly.

Tyler smiles and offers thanks as he takes hold of the cloth and begins wiping at his face. He begins to feel as if he had Rayala and her companion figured all wrong from the start and actually eases up a great deal. After a minute or so of rubbing his face raw he would dangle the towel over an extended middle finger and arch a brow, though she couldn't see it, to Rayala. "Erm, do you want this back... or... I mean, with the blood and stuff..."

Rayala has never really been fearsome, so she would be glad to think the man is warming to her. Arajakata, on the other hand, most definitely wants to be feared. He is a pride-filled creature. He stalks back to Rayala's side and tried to look menacing. A lingering daisy takes that moment to bloom, a little sprout from the fur on his snout. Ara's eyes cross as he looks at it. Rayala shakes her head. "Keep it. The blood will rinse out on cool water, but I've no way to tell, when it's clean." She seems to be teasing--herself, perhaps? "It's a useful thing, a towel. Best keep it on you." she nods, thoughtfully. Then, she extends her runed hand--as though for a shake, although it still had been clutching the bottle, which now falls from her release of it. Ara zooms in front of the Druid and clamps a large jaw around its side. Held sideways as it is, water spills onto the dirt, but at least it isn't glass. Rayala, confused, takes a step back, trying to regain her footing after being jostled by her hound. She wobbles, unsteadily. "uh..." She grunts, and then, "I'm...Rayala. My name." Her metal arm now extends over Ara's spined back.

Tyler jerks as Rayala begins to go off balance, the man reaching over to help balance her his hands taking hold of her arm. Once she's sturdy he's smiling as he takes her hand in his and shakes it lightly. "Tyler Dyalus. Human. Pretty ugly to look at, so you're in luck." He chuckles at his joke.

Rayala is caught by a quick hand. The flower in her hair glows softly when it makes contact with Tyler's flesh. "Thanks!" She says in surprise and untainted joy. She grins. "Well, you humans are all skin and bones, yes? Fleshy meat sacks." she grimaces at the image her own words have conjured. "Ew. No. Never saying that again. I take a human form! Or I used to. Now...well it's harder to be harvested for limbs, when you're scaled." She frowns. A foiled look of pain grimaces across her face. Too soon for the joke, perhaps. Too close for comfort, as well. "Sorry...I.." A great shuddering breath is taken. Ara lays the bottle gently on the ground and begins to light at Rayala's right hand, affectionately. "I'm okay, boy," she intones in a gentle murmur, quiet, seeking to soothe the hound even as he seeks to do the same for her. "Anyway." She says, clearing her throat. "Rayala. Ryvlva, in Draconic. Dragon. Was never much to look at, as a human. Now, I expect..." She laughs. "I survived a war and took a new form, when my other was too scarred. But I can't regrowing limbs or eyes, so you're left a bit suffering." another easy laugh, breathy and carefree. "I was thinking about working up the courage to go into that restaurant. Was meditating on the decision. You're welcome to join me, if you're hungry." If she decides to go in.

Tyler twists his lips into a look of disapproval when he sees the upset fall across Rayala's visage. The human noting the good will of her companion and offering a quick wink to the canine in approval. She discusses her form and he offers a low groan. "Well, you're not difficult to look at. Trust me, if you could see you'd find yourself much better off than most of the rags that run around this lawless place." He pokes at her stomach with a gentle touch. "Besides, the scales are pretty. Colorful and full of life. I'm just wearing a pale suit of hairless monkey flesh." He's smiling again when he turns to face the restaurant. His nose wrinkling at the smell of food. "Well, I'm not very hungry but I'd be more than happy to give you some company while you eat."

Rayala smirks. "This from the man who nearly got sick at the sight of me!" Her smile widens. "dont hide it, I could smell it on you. My eyes go crazy in the daylight, I know. They're sensitive to light, even if they can't see it." her tone softens. She thinks about her leg, her arm. "A great, ugly, one-armed, one-legged dragon. Blind, at that." Her smile doesn't face. The poke to her stomach is met with a giggle. The man would find her scales more forgiving than if she'd been in full dragon form, but taught with powerful muscles underneath. This petite lady is a powerhouse, no matter how she looks. "At any rate, I need meat." She grimaces, almost apologetically. "And I'm good with fire but useless with cooking. And this form won't stomach raw meat." her stomach gurgles as if to say this isn't entirely true, but she comment no further on it. Gold dragons don't eat meat at all, this man might know, but Rayala isn't shy about her mixed heritage. Not anymore. "There are rats in their kitchen," Rayala says, as though this is some explanation. "Men-rats who scurry about and take thinga that aren't theirs." a shadow passes her face. Fear, tinged with anger, a formidable expression. Ara growls, sharply, not at Tyler, but at his master. And now he stands between them, again, seekng to push Tyler back gently, as though guarding the stranger. Rayala pulls herself together with a start. Ara's amber eyes, wary, search the dragon's face, her closed eyes. As though responding to some hidden request, Rayala sighs and opens her eyes again. They are as windy as ever, though slightly fogged over, now. Whatever the brutish hound sees in them calms him. He relaxes, his spines laying flat into the fur along his back again. Rayala remains quiet. "I'd be grateful if you-would- come in with me," she says, and when she speaks she begins with slow, gentle, careful words. "Even if it's just to pick up food and come out again." Her head tilts down and slightly to the side, her face demure, embarrassment etched thereupon.

Tyler doesn't sit well with Rayala downing herself, the human shaking his head the entire time but allowing her to speak. He is rather surprised when her canine moves to his side and presses against him. He doesn't flinch and though he feels he should be fearful, he isn't. Instead he remains calm and waits for her moment to pass. Finally speaking he crosses his arms defiantly. "For your information, you surprised me. You don't see something as unique as you everyday, and I'll have you know beauty comes in all shapes and sizes not just the shallow term coined by the human race." He's found a smile again and takes a deep breath of fresh air. "Of course I'll come in with you, as I said I would. But only if you don't speak ill of yourself. It's disgusting. I've only just met you and I can already feel the heart growing fonder." Ironic really, Tyler ridiculing another for downing themselves. It was sort of his speciality.

Rayala shrugs, carelessly. "It's not speaking down to myself if it's the truth." Her smile fades, slightly. "I won't apologise for it, either. I am strong. My magic is strong. My body, what remains of it, is strong. It always was, and I have made it so, again. But I am not the steadiest on my feet, I am rarely graceful when I am not in the air, and I know I do not appear beautiful. My scales are, assuming they haven't changed, and I think I'd know if they did. My hair is pretty. But my face is marred and my lost limbs are replaced with practical metal and runes." She susses it out aloud, explaining patiently. "I like myself. I am proud of myself. But I will not lie to myself about what I look like." Of course, she doesn't actually know what she looks like, only has the image her fingers can bring, the descriptions given to others. She doesn't respond otherwise. She makes a slow way into the middle of the road. A man collides with her, tells her in a gruff way to 'watch it'. Rayala's breath quickens, but if she is tense, she doesn't let the feeling show. Arajakata bolts from Rayala's side, growling and snarling after this stranger, after making sure Rayala won't lose her footing. He is less forgiving than the dragon, and bares his formidable teeth. "To me, Ara," the dragon calls and the fierce hound obeys instantly. Rayala's left hand nestles in his fur, fingers seated at the nape of his neck, curled into warm, bristling fur. "You're okay," she murmurs to her best friend. Facing the restaurant, now, she takes a few steps closer. "On second thought, I think..maybe...the tavern."

Tyler is revolted by the 'proud but true' nature of the dragoness but bites his tongue, hard, on the topic. It isn't until she is knocked into by the passer by that Tyler reacts. As the jerk blames the collision on Rayala, the human has already begun moving to the man. While Rayala is busy calming her companion Tyler pulls his fingers in to form a neat and tidy fist and throws it to make contact on the strangers cheek. As his fist collides with the flesh a loud audible pop can be heard from the impact. The man's eyes water and he grabs at his cheek before stumbling off into a sprint away from Rayala and the illusionist. He's still standing, a scowl on his face as he watches the coward flee.

Rayala certainly never means to revolt anyone, least of all with her pride, which is so rarely overwhelming. It has taken her a lot to come this far, to admit she is strong despite everything, and perhaps would not take kindly to disgust at her feelings, which she feels and admits as truly as she is able. She is spared, thankfully, from having to ensure another's dislike by first being knocked into, and subsequently defended. She is surprised by the loud pop, lost in her thoughts as she is, despite having felt the man's movement behind her. Curiously, she turns to confront the illusionist. "What was that for?" She asks, bemusement oozing from her pores. But while confusion may be foremost for the dragon, it is respect that Ara gives off, in waves. The hound lets off a happy bark as the stranger runs away, and gives Tyler a wag of his tail, as though to say, -yeah. He -better- run.- Concern, now, flows across the dragon's face. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you, too? Is that why you hit him?"

Tyler is still glaring with anger as the rude man flees from conflict. The human's stance still emitting pure aggression until Rayala's words reach him. His shoulder would relax as eyes widen and he finally finds himself able to exhale. Turning on his heel he raises a brow to the dragon and catches the supportive nature of her hound. "Huh?" He prompts with genuine confusion before correcting himself, "Oh. No. I'm fine. I, erm, well, I guess he..." The man huffs in defeat and shakes his head. "The guy deserved it."

Rayala, who seems all too able to run to another's defense--when Tyler had been tripped, for instance--seems unable to comprehend the same for her. "Okay," she says, though still clearly confused. "Is your hand okay? Is there more bleeding?" Meanwhile, Ara trots to Tykers side, giving silent thank yous by way of gently nudges and affectionate licks. He couldn't disobey his alpha, his master. But he is glad Tyler did what he could not. Rule would find the happy hound surprisingly gentle, wonderfully compassionate. Another creature who is not what he firat appears.

Tyler's looks down to the canine at his side and in return of the lick provides a soft five second scratch on the head. An easy smile pulling his cheeks up as the human winks at the dragoness' companion. Caramel hues raise to settle on Rayala and even though she cannot see it, he shakes his head. "No. I'm fine." Shifting himself around Ara the illusionist approaches the blind woman and would place his palm on the underside of her forearm. "Now. About that food."

Rayala flinches at the touch, but doesn't jerk her hand away. After the wince, she merely lowers her hand to move around that of the illusionist, to curl her hand around Tyler's forearm instead, just under his elbow. "I'm not sure I can'tdo it," she says, honestly, before whispering, "I'm scared."

Tyler offers a light nudge to the dragoness, "Trust me, there is nothing to fear. You've got your little companion and me." A light squeeze is provided to her skin. "Just relax, clear your mind, and have happy thoughts." He aims to the restaurant with a free hand. "Besides, they have much better food than the tavern."

Rayala looks like she's ready to flee. "Ara isn't little," she says, quickly, before her hound can take offense to the condescension. The hound seems sated by this, some. Rayala falls quiet once more, and then, "You don't understand," she says, and urgency to her voice. "There are rata in there. In their kitcheb. Leading to the sewers, they've built a tunnel..." Her voice trails off and the dragon finds she is trembling, fear, anxiety, memory. -Get out of here- a voice in her head urges, -get away from him, he doesn't need to see this. No one should see you, weak, like this.- but Rayala is lost in a fog in her mind. Keepin herself from curling up and hyperventilating is all she can do. Ara rushes to her side, pressed her chest with a horned head. "You should get out of here," Rayala tells Tyler. "I find I'm not myself."

If Tyler is anything, it's stubborn. For as Ara rushes to Rayala's side and the woman beckons for him to take his leave the human refuses. His legs remain motionless as his arms cross his chest and those caramel hues of his give the dragoness the once over. He doesn't speak. Be it through fear or just curiosity he isn't sure, but the fact remains, he isn't budging.

Rayala's hand is clenched in Ara's fur, fingers curled and pressed into neck. Her breathing is laboured, pained, her chest aching with each gasp. "Ara," she whispers, pleadingmy, trying to find something on which she can focus, trying to drag herself out from under the weight of her memory. "Stop," she whispers, to no one who is there. Tears tickle from the lashes flush against her cheek, to settle at the corner of a gritted mouth. "Leave," she begs Tyler, and this time her voice comes out more grown than whisper. The wind whips violently about her, now; the dragon is rapidly losing control. She is given wide berth by the oncoming travellers. How many people are here? How many are watching her, how many can see her shame, her terror, her agony? There is nothing for it but to drive ahead into the very building whose kitchen-inhabitants have brought this on. A groan accompanies every step, soft grunts matching hard footfalls. She fumbles with the door and pushes inside, then grabs the nearest wall, strides to a corner, and promptly slides down it to sit on the floor. Ara licks her face, now, insistently bringing his master to reality in the hopes of clearing her fog.

Tyler is left in the way with a stunned expression spread across his visage as he watches Rayala flee into the restaurant. Caramel hues turn to observe those around him and provides a snarl to any who comment on the sanity of the dragoness. Taking a moment he faces the sun with squinted eyes as he gathers his thoughts. Eyes watering and small specked shapes now dancing around his gaze, he does what any human would do. He defys the wishes of Rayala and moves into the shop and spots her propped on the floor. He looks around at the patrons who seem to be looking onward with confusion and fear. He becomes stoic and moves to Rayala, kneeling down by her side. Remaining vigilant he doesn't speak. He waits for an explanation.

A kindly waitress, kindly and bold, so it seems, for she smacks the head of a familiar, rude patron as she passes him, makes her way over with a bowl of fruit and a fork. She hands it to Tyler, "When she's ready," the sweet voice tells the human man. Perhaps she has seen Rayala from the window. "It's her favorite." Meanwhile Rayala sits trying to get a grasp on the situation. "Why are you here?" She asks, her voice ragged; she gasps for breath as Ara presses his head to her chest, horn against scale. A soft hand rests against the other side of the hound's huge muzzle, stroking it's length with her thumb. Tears don't flow, though they hold ever ready, trapped beneath long, closed lashes. She ignores everyone, save Tyler and the waitress. "Sorry," she murmurs to the woman, and the lady hushes her with a "take your time," before seeing to the other patrons. "Don't hurt me," Rayala says, and gone is the strong, gentle dragon, replaced with a fearful, cowering thing. Ara noses her, hard. Rayala starts. She'd almost been lost again, but she comes to her senses slowly, now, her shoulders tense, her body quivering. "I'm okay," she adds, quickly, "You can go. You dont need to.." Her voice trails off. "I'm okay," she repeats. But she doesn't rise from the floor, and her body refuses to stop its quaking.

Tyler remains still near Rayala. The bowl and fork in his hands and a brow raised to the sky. Once the employee makes her way away from the two of them he finds caramel hues dipping to Rayala as she offers faux reassurance to her condition before falling to look at the bowls contents. With a shrug he takes hold of the fork and pierces a piece of the juicy fruit and takes it in his mouth, the sharp scratch of his teeth against the metal audible as he nods to himself at the delightful taste. Taking another bite he pushes at Ara with the tip of his boot to nudge the canine from his spot on Rayala to the opposing side before sliding down to sit beside her. He's on his third bite when he takes another piece and holds it out to hover just before the woman's mouth. "You should try it, it's good. Really." His voice is eased almost as if her slight breakdown had never even occurred.

Rayala tilts her head, smelling metal and fruit and flesh, hearing the scratch of eating, the subsequent chewing. Arajakata eyes the man as he nears, and, seeing his purpose, shifts easily at the nudge of a boot. "Hungry," Rayala whispers, grateful and honest all at once. "Is it safe?" She asks, and no longer is she whispering to no one. Blind eyes open and seem to fix their pulsing, eerie whites, ever more gold than grey, upon Tyler's face without focusing. She extends her fingers to deftly pluck the fruit, a strawberry, this piece. At her touch, in the mere moments before the berry crosses the expanse of millimeters between fork and lips, it plumps considerably, as though eager, wanting to please the dragon. Rayala'a voice is strained, but it tries to force itself yo follow the easy patters set forth by Tyler. "Would you like to sit?" She asks, patting the ground beside her. "I can answer your questions," she adds, pink again tinging her cheeks, "if you sit.

Tyler was already sitting and offered a confused glance as she motioned. But he promptly scooted closer to her and made some noise to try and ensure the woman he was by her side. At her question he makes an audible grunt and shrugs his shoulders again. "Tastes fine to me. If it's poisoned I haven't had time to die yet, so who knows." She takes the fruit and he watches it grow. "Neat trick you got there. It would save me a ton of coin if I knew how it was done." He chuckles and presses his shoulder against Rayala's. His skin against her scales. If she rejects his touch, he wouldn't hesitate to flee though he trys to do this in an effort to calm the dragoness as much as possible. "Questions? I didn't realize I had any questions." He's tossed all care to the wind on the subject of the dragoness' behavior, he has no want to upset her or cause any stress.

Rayala has not noticed the sitting because her writer had apparently forgot the "sliding down to sit beside her" bit, right after she had Ara move away. The closer scoot is met by a pressed shoulder, close against Tyler's. She flinches at the touch, but she does not withdraw from him. Her scales may look cool and dry, but at touch they are subtly warm, comfortable and light. "There are rats in the kitchen," she says, still on this obsessed point. "Someone should tell them. A trapdoor in the kitchen." she shakes her head, to clear it. "I..they like me, strawberries. I was in battle, once, grew a tangled web of thorned vines, for cover. Bunch of strawberries popped up with them. Just in case I got hungry." The dragon's calm progresses, quietly, without great effort, by dint of light confversation and fruit. She rests her head gently against Tyler's shoulder, this rather-petite dragon, and she whispers to the bowl of fruit. "Grow for me," is her murmured command, and, delightfully, the fruit obliges. Tyler would find his next piece more juicy, more aucculent, sweeter or tangier than before, depending on its nature.

Tyler wrinkles his nose in a bit of disgust at the mention of rats but quickly plays it off as he looks through his peripheral vision to spot Rayala's head at rest upon his shoulder. He flashes a smile before looking to the morphing fruit in the bowl. He stabs a slice of apple with the fork and brings it to his mouth. He is forced to use his arm as a napkin as juice dribbles down his cheek and onto his pants. Stabbing another piece he would hold it out to Rayala's mouth again expecting her to take it without him having to acknowledge it being there.

Rayala sees neither the wrinkle of disgust nor the smile, but she can smell the trickle of juice. "Probably should have warned you," she murmurs, then laughs, and it is a warm, jovial sound, light as a breeze. "Thank you," she says to the fruit, kindly, and then adds, "and thank -you-" to Tyler as she plucks the apple slice from the fork, fumbling a bit this time, for positioning. Apple juice trickles down her chin and proceeds to get lost in scales between. It tickles; the dragon laughs again, just once, in a breathy sort of sigh and maintains her position atop Tyler's shoulder, breathing evenly, trying to force te occasional bout of tremors to stop coursing through her frame. "This is not usually my way of conversing with strangers," she adds, at length. It is an apology, perhaps, a regret to her tone that takes an age to fade from her face. Still, she is grateful for the shoulder, for the kindness.

Tyler is already back in the bowl by the time Rayala has apologized. The human stuffing his face even more, rapidly depleting the contents within. "Well..." He speaks between chews. "I'll be honest... It's. Not *hmph* how I tend to... talk to people either. But I don't like many people. That might be the issue." He's shoving a piece of cantaloupe into his mouth when his eyes meet Ara and then glance to Rayala. "You... You're... *Hmm*..." He swallows heavily, having not quite chewed enough causing it to go to rough. He coughs. "You're alright though." He says, struggling to catch his breath.

Rayala has made up her mind to grow this man some fruit, sometime, the way he seems to be going at this bowl. a smile extends across her face, small, serene. Ara watches with mild amusement and alarm. Rayala contents herself to wait for words betel wren slurps and coughs and swallows. When Tyler battles with the cantelope, the dragon chides, "a worthy foe! And worthily defeated, if in haste. Alas, all battles have their casualties." in this case, Tyler's ability to breath. Her hand creeps around the man's shoulders, to rub gently at his back. She lifts her head to do so. "Easy dies it," she urges, "don't speak, just breathe. Shallow, first, then deeper, and deeper still, until your chest remembers how to do it on its own." She makes slow circles with a golden hand until the human breathes once more. Only then, would she return his spluttered admissions with one of her own. "You're all right yourself, stranger," she says, with warmth. "I used to like people far more than I do, now. I rarely take company, of late. I don't mind yours."

Tyler has his right hand gripped tightly at his chest as Rayala motions across his back. His breath slowly returning and the sharp pain in his chest dying down until he is relaxed once more. At her admission he finds himself chuckling with a smirk. Looking at the bowl he decides, for now, he's finished and sets it to his left in offering to her or Aya. "Well, you know how to pick'em them." He states before leaning back against the wall once Rayala has removed her hand. "The creepy humans make the best companions." He jokes.

Rayala lets her hand fall again into her lap. "I figure if you were going to kidnap or kill me, you'd have had ample ooportunity to do so," she muses. Ara sniffs the bowl of fruit and decides it isn't his style. Rayala picks it up. She takes the fork, too, and navigates the bowl with it as she taps the glass sides with metal fingers, guiding the utensil to fruit with the use of the subsequent sound and vibration. "I don't think you're all that creepy," the dragon decides, and plops a piece of melon into her mouth as though that settles it. She frowns. Either the next thought or the frunit leaves a sour taste in her mouth. "I can't help but wonder. though," she remarks as her body tenses, "why you stayed?"

"Huh?" He cries with a surprised look on his eyes. "Er, I..." His hand finds it way to the back of his head, scratching at a thick mess of black and blue hair. "Well, ya' see..." Fumbling for the answer he releases a heavy sigh of defeat and chuckles before shrugging yet again. "Had nothing else going on I guess." A joke in attempt to cover his short comings.

Rayala wouldn't have called it a shortcoming, persay, but his fumbling itself causes a wariness to grow. "I'm grateful for it, for a friend," she says, carefully, "if it was a friendly gesture." She seems to be feeling for some threat. "There are plenty better things to do than watch a dragon try to control her own weakness." Safer things, too, she'd warrant. "I guess, what I'm trying to ask.." She seems defeated, herself. She takes another piece if fruit, chews it slowly, swallows quickly, and intones, "what do you want out of it." It is a question, of sorts, but phrased like a statement, for the Druid cannot see another reason for a stranger staying.

Tyler's eyes widen at her half-question half-statement before a laugh escapes and he's left shrugging while his head shakes. "You're asking the wrong one. I don't know anything about anything and often act before any time for thought is given. I just do things when I want to, because, well, I want too." The human is left now in a confused and staggering stance as he's conflicted with his actions. Should he have just kept moving?

Rayala seems to believe this bumbling man, at last. She nods her head, wearily, and seeks to rest her head again upon the nearest shoulder, if permitted. "Can you call the waitress over?" she asks quietly. "I'd like to order something else. Do you want anything?"

Tyler doesn't seem to notice as Rayala takes his shoulder as her pillow. To the question the man scrunches his nose and shakes his head in decline. "I'm alright. I think I've had enough." Spotting the waitress aiding another couple the human releases a sharp whistle to garner the woman's attention and gives her a shockingly uncomfortable wink accompanied by a smirk as he motions for her to come to him. The woman allabit disgusted by the humans manner of getting her attention, approaches and asks in a calm voice what she can get the duo. Tyler simply points to the woman upon his shoulder and allows her to order.

Rayala does the only thing that seems natural after that sharp whistle pierces the ears, and smacks Tyler upside the back of his head, rather gently. "If I wanted a big scene, I'd have gotten Ara to get her! You have to be more respectful!" Of the waitress, she means, and that's without having seen the wink or the smile. She offers a small, kind smile of her own to the waitress, and orders: "Some beef, if you have it, cut into squares, served in a bowl. Somewhat bloody." She pauses, adding, "thanks".

Rayala's slap woud earn her a swift judging look at Tyler processes the actions that have just unfolded. The human didn't mind being scolded, but couldn't stand having someone tell him what to do. It takes a moment but he is able to swallow his pride and prevent from lashing out in defense to the dragoness beside him. As the waitress provides a smug grin in retaliation Tyler makes a rather perverted gesture to her involving two fingers and his hand before scowling at her with disgust. Once she's moved out of sight to complete Rayala's order the man finds himself biting on his tongue after failing to find anything to offer up for conversation that wouldn't lead to useless fighting.

Rayala can feel the weight of that stare, perhaps, for se is about to apologize, lifting her head to do so, (to explain that she meant no disrespect herself, but gets irritable when loud noises are made quite close to her eardrums), when Arajakata sees Tyler's gesture and begins to growl, low, at the man, clearly seeing some sort of threat. Rayala tenses and leans into her hound's fur. She takes a few deep breathes, stroking Ara's fur with metal and flesh alike. A growing look of horror on her face ensues, as hound relays, in one way or another, to his master and alpha what he had seen. Rather than disapproval, there is sadness held in all her features. She faces Tyler, tilting her torso slightly. "I think perhaps I'll take my food to go," she says in a low tone, light, but sure of itself.

Tyler arches a brow at her sudden tone before spotting Ara and his face turning to a scowl once more as he realizes the mutt has sold him out. "Huh." He mutters nearly to himself as he presses his open palm against the wood of the floor to pick himself up. "No need." He states as he brushes his hands together knocking the dirt from them. "I was just heading off to offend people elsewhere." His caramel gaze catches Ara once more and he shakes his head in disappointment to the beast before pulling his gloves tightly over his hands. "Welp, it was good meeting ya... Later!" His tone isn't hurt, nor upset, just rushed and ready to move. He doesn't waste anytime either as he presses the door and escapes into the way.

Rayala listens to him go. She doesn't quite know what to make of this man, kind enough to sit with her, man enough not to openly mock her for her weakness, yet low enough to take advantage of her blindness to make a lewd gesture at a kind waitress. Utterly bewildered, is she, in fact, and somewhat saddened, as well. "Later," she says gently, not responding to his provocation of 'offend people elsewhere'z he hasn't offended her, in truth--he shied away from doing so, earlier in the way, apologizing for his reaction to the sight of her. Had made her promise, too, to not speak Ill of herself. Why, then, the lewd gesture? The unwanted advance, the need for the sort of power that comes with hurting others, like the man he'd punched previously who'd harmed her. "Thank you for your company," she says, just as softly as he passes through the door. She isn't sure if he will hear her, but she says it all the same. "Almost seems like two different people, a man who would stand up for me, and a man who would gladly offend the waitress," she murmurs to Ara, even softer, still, before resuming petting his bristling fur.