RP:What's Your Excuse

Town in the Trees

The primeval woodland town continues to branch and wind itself into the trees, even as the architecture of the buildings becomes more apparent. All around, homes and shops are carved from the very bases of the mighty timbers of Sage. Pallets of the more pliable thicket line the eaves, shading the inhabitants from the forces of ever-present nature. A natural hush seems to overtake you as you wander about, awed. Pathways meander through to the north and south and the community sprawls out eastward, while it seems slightly less civilized farther west.

— * —

Rinn sat upon her large black and white stallion, the little redhead looking even more petite upon such a large beast. She wore a cloak that was pulled over her body attempting to block any light from touching her sensitive skin. If the wind blew her cover open one might catch the glimmer of pink skin shiny and new. She was healing quiet well considering she was being burned alive earlier this week, the power of witches. Her electric gaze kept an ever watchful eye as she slowly made her way towards the mountains.

Lyros is many things, and right now nervous is one of them. Not that he would ever admit it, not even on pain of death, but it would be obvious to anyone who knew him that the drow is noticeably more tense than usual. Luckily, no one here knows him. On the reverse, all his awkwardness serves to do is make him look a bit shifty instead, but that's only if one looks too long. Lyros is good at keeping his head down and blending into the crowd— figuratively, of course, as the road is deserted at this time of morning, only a villager or two moving about around the houses. With his hood up and tattered cloak drawn around his body, the drow walks through the early morning haze, his pace just a little too quick. At one point, he ducks into a deserted garden; and, either unaware or uncaring of the girl on the horse, he snatches up a freshly cooked meat pie from an open window before vaulting the fence and hopping back onto the road, continuing on as though nothing had happened. Ah, if only mother could see him...

Rinn lofted a red brow when she spotted the drow on the trail and as usual the girl with no filters opens her mouth to speak, "You're in dangerous territory, drow." Though her words didn't prove a threat she was still in the midst of recovering, even though she despised his kind he would go unharmed by her, today.

Lyros does take notice of that and pauses, mid-bite; but by the time he turns to flash the girl a skewed grin, he's all white teeth and sharp edges. "For stealing, for being a drow in the middle of an elven forest?" he bites back at her, just as half-heartedly. Part of the right side of his face is also white, oddly, a large patch covering the majority of his cheek, and extending past his jaw and down his neck. It does not seem to be paint or anything similar.

Rinn couldn't suppress her humour from the drow's comment of thievery and it showed as a giggle escaped her lips, "Drow obviously." Her right hand dodged behind her back and tapped at a shovel secured to her drow hide rucksack, "Who cares about small theft. Like I said it's your skin..." Her eyes squinted, "Even if it's patchy."

Lyros shrugs, only moving to take another bite of his stolen pie, warm and steaming in his hand. It's a nice snack after a meal of only bread and cheese last night. The pie does not quite make it, though, because Rinn's final comment has him scowling - perhaps she hit a nerve with the remark about his skin. He chuckles darkly, "That's low. You're almost as good as a drow." But not quite. He takes that bite, brows drawing together in a slight frown. "You're a very generalising people up here. Can't say I'm surprised but really, I haven't even tried to stab you yet."

Rinn's eyes narrowed while her frame leaned down towards the dark skinned elf, her body language was clear, she did not fear this man. His comment to try and stab her however sucked the humour from their encounter. She didn't mind being compared to monster's, in fact she considered it a compliment for the things she had done and continued to do where not honourable. "You try to stab me you will seal the fate on your meaningless little life." Her words held promise laced without compassion.

Lyros is fairly tall for a drow, but even he is dwarfed by a short woman on a very large horse. By comparison, he is alone and not exactly intimidating, even with the sharp edges of the armour he wears. Her threat garners a very small smile, and it's not pleasant. "Odd. I said the same thing to a girl earlier." The taste of this meat pie is getting more sour by the second, but what else did he expect from surface-dwellers? "You've got a lot of bite for such a... tenderly cooked morsel." Yes, he noticed. Lyros turns on one heel, biting into his breakfast again. It seems he's fed up of being insulted for his very existence.

Rinn gave a wave of her hand in dismissal while the mischievous glint returned to her gaze, "Ooo I'm so scared." She'd steer her stallion around to watch the drow as he continued on his way though a smile did crack her features, "I'm healing what's your excuse." Her voice called after the meat pie thief though still raspy from all the smoke she had inhaled from her burning.

Lyros' laugh is sharp enough to cut through the misty morning air. He is not quite sure what prompts it - her general attitude, assumptions, or her words, or perhaps something on his own side, a doubt and a hesitation he had yet to overcome. Whatever the case, the drow's free hand comes to grasp the chain around his neck that carries the weight of his House hidden beneath his clothing, which he draws out as he turns back to Rinn. Lyros is not sure of her knowledge of drow culture, the importance of a House insignia - only noble Houses bear their own, they are powerful even unenchanted, considered marks of loyalty and an integral part of a drow's identity. Maybe Lyros doesn't care if she knows or not, but either way, he drops the precious insignia and crushes it beneath the heel of his boot before resuming his passage eastward, leaving the broken remains lying in the road. He raises a hand in a makeshift wave and calls back, "I'm healing too."

Rinn noted the drow's rebellion, how he tore his insignia from his neck and crushed beneath his boot. She'd met another of his kind turning on the world of the under dark and they had managed to become friends. She sighed with a heavy rasp before pursing her lush lips together to whistle attempting to gain his attention once more. Her right hand dipping into her pocket to pull out a small coin purse that she would toss to the drow,, "So you don't have to steal food." Her tone had changed but that was all.

Rinn gave Lyros 500 gold.

Lyros, spinning on one heel, manages to catch the purse before it smacks him in the face...just. Obviously he was not expecting that. His look of surprise is brief as he measures the weight and rough amount of the coin inside, his expression quickly levelling out into something more neutral, only a touch of a smile quirking the edges of his mouth to give it away. Perhaps... "Maybe I just conned you." No, he can't quite say it. Expressing gratitude and being sincere about it is...still beyond him; a matter Lyros considers something to improve on. But he'll nod to Rinn and look for just a second longer, to catch a picture of her in his memory - he'd like to remember her. This drow always repays his debts, so, at some point, they will certainly meet again.

Rinn laughed whole heartedly at the drow's response while her hand patted the beast between her thighs, he stepped in place clearly agitated. He was still wild and the red head had much work still ahead if she would ever fully tame him as her own "Or maybe I am the one who conned you." There she lofted her red brow before spinning her horse around and giving the steed a quick kick to it's ribs. The spotted stallion reared his front hooves and was off, leaving the man to ponder her farewell.