[Demavend, Memory] Early bird

[Velx]

Glade 80th 4620

The masquerade was heavy in all parts of Chalis, but it was especially noticeable in Demavend. By the time she was able to get herself situated at an in, she had been mocked thrice, once for the wear of her clothes, once for not understanding Gentaverse, and once again for the shade of her skin of all things. Apparently proper Arkanai were supposed to be darker. It was a true testament to their might that these people had not been wiped off the face of Atharen due to infighting or a mistaken insult. Her path so far had been much easier to organize, but it was proving difficult finding significant traveling partners for further voyage in a place like this. Even people clearly not raised within the confines of the province were still playing at masks and insults, mind of the herd expressed in knives and smiles whichever way.

She was able to find a slightly warmer and less masked reception at The Worm. She had found the name a bit unkempt, but could see a man muttering at her and almost falling off his stool laughing when she entered in the afternoon. She already had some leads on possible traveling partners, but it would take numbers and confidence to make sure they were safe in reaching Arlain and debriefing Valanox. She believed she had located what he wanted, but it was difficult to be precise with how cryptic he kept his inquiries. Unsure, but still cautious, she would deliver the news herself.

She’d allow her purse to get looser than normal and pepper a lot more coins than what would normally be necessary for the inkeep to nod his head towards a couple of individuals which might align with what she was looking for. People were richer here, and in turn her coins worth less. The first couple of nods struck dead ends. One of them she chose to forgo of her own volition, as the Sil face made her think of things she’d rather not dwell on.

Her next point of contact was a very tall individual. The uncomfortable manner in which he sat was only further accented by the foreign height and clothes which were, like her own, out of place. She’d approach slowly, making sure she was visible far before she was actually in range.

“Could I join you?”

[Hakon]

While Hakon had not been many places in his life, he was fairly certain Daravin was the worst place in all of Atharen, and that was before one even factored in their blasphemous and barbaric fascination with magic. The people here were haughty and rude. They liked to play verbal games with each other that he had little patience for, and score smirking little insults that annoyed like the whine of insect wings in his ears. Everyone here put on airs, even the slaves and serfs. The amount of energy the nation collectively put into posturing could turn a waterwheel without a river.

For his part, his business in this detestable city was concluded, and he had not one, not two, but three sunderscraps to show for it. The poison he'd been given had worked a treat, incapacitating the whole household and allowing him to sunder the Lady of the Estate, the Lord, and their most formidable retainer before one of the servants had roused enough to raise an alarm. He'd been hoping to finish off the other Valran, but such was life. There was a seemingly inexhaustible supply of mages in Daravin, like rats in a midden, so there was little point in feeling like he had failed. No one man could cleanse this nation of its filth and depravity.

He glowered at his wine, which had the audacity to be rather decent. He was taking the opportunity to have his mask off since he was technically indoors. Proper Daravinic etiquette dictated that it should only be removed in private, but it was itchy and he was finished with his business here, so he had no need of these worthless people any more and had placed it by his side on the table.

Once approached by a stranger, however, he felt the need to at least pretend to be well-mannered, or well-mannered by their insulting standards here, so he put it back on as though she had not just seen him barefaced moments before.

"Of course you may," he replied in flawless Gentaverese. "Please, have a chair." When it became clear she didn't speak the language, He got up and pulled the chair opposite him out for her before sitting back down and switching to Common. "Seeking respite from the never-ending festivities?" He asked, inviting her to break the Candor and divulge too much about herself if she so wished. He wouldn't care if she did; it would just be evidence that she was a foreigner with no idea of how to navigate high society here, as if he needed more.

[Velx]

The quickness of the man’s motions amused her somewhat. While she wasn’t the most familiar with Candor as a whole, especially in the extremes of Chalis, she understood its tenets well enough not to be confused by them. As the man masked up, she wondered at the need. Despite his native sounding voice, he both seemed and was already confirmed as a foreigner. Why play so devotedly at such an insignificant part? When she sat down, her face remained bare, as it had been for some time. It was important to understand the value of masks in this city, but it was far more important to look a person in the eye when determining their trustworthiness.

“Must we?” she motioned her hand over the face, obscuring it momentarily. “We are both strangers here” she eyed his wine and wondered if the conversation would go over more smoothly if they were both partaking. “Festivities do tend to have their good sides, but too much of a good thing…” she kept watching him very intently, wondering if he’d crack and when. She’d stop a server and get herself a drink as well, although with somewhat of a language barrier, it wasn’t too clear what was ordered. Wine she was near sure, but beyond that the details got muddied.

“I was looking for a more serious conversation” she dug into her bag and put her own mask on the table. “Are you the right partner?” she knew she teased, but it seemed appropriate given how hard he clung onto the disguise.

[Hakon]

He doffed his mask and placed it beside hers. "Don't ever do that to someone from Daravin," he said, looking the stranger in the eyes. "It's an expression of unbelievable intimacy to remove one's mask like that, and you are putting yourself in a weak social position by expressing something so large and so sincere. They'll take it however they want to take it, and use it to insult or manipulate you. I could use this, for instance, to insinuate that you were trying to sell yourself to me. I assume that isn't what this is about, but don't expect other people here to be so understanding." He glowered at the clientele and the establishment in general. "And this place is better than most. In some of the shitholes this city has to offer, you could be thrown in jail for what you just did."

He wondered if she knew that she could be thrown in jail for just about anything here. Daravin did not have any principle of fairness. There was only what one could get away with.

"Also, are you aware you just asked for a cup of hot mulled wine in what is frankly terrible Gentavarese?" He asked bluntly. "Would you like me to order something for you? You'll be paying for it; I don't have the coin to spare, but I can ensure you get what you're looking for, at least. And speaking on that last point, what exactly are you looking for? Presumably you are not chatting me up for a tutorial in how to handle the natives or to converse in their language. If you are, I will provide what small help as I am able, but I have other things to attend to before I take my leave of this place."

Though he'd spent less than a week in Daravin, the behavioral patterns drilled into him by his tutors in the Endornotkun were starting to stick. Back in the Guild, he would have felt no concerns whatsoever about telling a stranger where he was going, or when, but in Daravin, such information was power. Even if this person were well-intentioned, some of the patrons could be listening in, and he knew now what they were looking for. In a nation of opportunists, every peon was a potential knife in the back.

"And if you're interested in speaking beyond very general details," he added, "I suggest we adjourn to my room once you've received your drink."

That was overly direct, something he'd just told her not to do, but the value of privacy trumped the value of being indirect in all things in his mind, and he was tired of conversations that went up a garden path.

[Velx]

She was loosely aware of her missteps compared to what was locally expected. Yet, the stranger lectured her to a degree which told her that he lived the masquerade. This was quite unusual, given how he was not of Daravin and merely passing through. His concern, if it could be called such, was an interesting piece of information. Yet he was contradicting himself by doubling down on what he chided her for.

“Mulled or not, wine is what I asked for. That makes the order close enough for my taste” she chose to forgo his comment about selling herself entirely. People of Chalis allowed themselves too much, drunk on the vapors the Entente left in passing. Many of them completely losing touch with reality, Candor was no longer a way of life – it was life. She did recognize her over eagerness in communicating openly after so many needlessly rude encounters, so she took him up on the offer.

She gestured to his own mask upon the table, her eyebrow raising in question. If he was so fixated on the perception of power, why would he choose to weaken himself as he saw it?

“I would like to communicate more privately if that is what it takes to move the conversation along” she was able to finish before her drink arrived, mulled and hot indeed. Truly unsatisfying, but she would never let it surface before the smug individual. She’d sip it and hate every moment of it. “Lead the way” her voice straining somewhat to keep a casual tone as the wine didn’t sit very well.

[Hakon]

He brought her back to his room, which was small but had the decency to have a partition between the bed and everything else. The fact that the room itself was a glorified closet bisected by the screen between the bed and the makeshift parlor did not matter. It had the proper appearance, so to someone from Daravin, they were not being invited back to a room with a bed in it, technically, and there was nothing improper about what they were doing, technically. His belongings were all neatly packed away in a bag with a false bottom on the other side of the bed: soiled clothes, poison, Sundering tools, and his cargo were in the compartment at the bottom.

"Welcome, m'Lady," he said in Gentavarese, giving a proper bow as he'd been trained to do. The door was still open, so people could be listening, so some attempt at etiquette and decorum must be made. His reputation in the city, such as it was, had to be maintained.

He ushered her in to the tiny parlor area of his room. He took the seat that faced the door, and with his legs under the table there was basically no room for her unless she kept the chair quite far back from the small cafe style table, but it was the best he could do. It wasn't his fault this room was made for midgets.

Once the door was shut, he attempted something like a friendly smile. Everyone, even his teachers, said that his smile was not overly reassuring, but he thought it would be nice to make an effort.

"Now then, we are alone, and you wish to be blunt, so let's be blunt: what is this about? Why are you talking to random patrons at a lower-middling inn? What do you want?"

[Velx]

She wasn’t overly worried when they came to the room, or when the door closed. Being a practitioner of not one, but two disciplines gave person a certain confidence regardless of the situation. Daravin, for all its faults, only strengthened that sense of self. She was most definitely not noble in the slightest, but to them her abilities made her stature rise as needed. As soon as the door closed, the stranger flipped a coin, the polarity of his behavior reversing. What was once political meandering now sounded more forthright. She would do her best to occupy as little room as possible in the already cramped quarters. Instead of finding a place on the floor or atop a chair, she simply allowed her back to find the slightest purchase with the door.

She was about to speak when she realized the man was cracking a grin which to her looked much like baring teeth. She would raise an eyebrow at this, but would accept it for his closed-door persona.

“I like this version better” she jabbed in response to the teeth.

“You were pointed out as a stranger to me” she eyed the room, seeing he had left very little of his own things about. He would likely be leaving soon as well. “My path soon leads me away from this place, and traveling alone is a traveler’s misconduct” she wouldn’t open up too much beyond that. The man seemed too stern to be taken for a gentle sort, and the obvious switch of his behavior implied a necessary caution.

“You seem to be without roots here as well” her voice grew more confident as with multiple scans of the room she couldn’t see his things in the open.

[Hakon]

Now that they were alone, the stranger decided to be coy. Of course.

Hakon resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her and instead answered her implicit question. "Yes, my affairs in Demavend have been terminated for now. I plan to quit the area and travel west. If you are looking for a companion along the roadways of Daravin and we are heading in the same direction, you are welcome to come along. I have no great use for or need of a companion, but I agree with you that there is safety in numbers."

If she were of proper Daravinic stock, she would know that he'd violated the Candor by telling her his plans, but Hakon was not particularly interested in any machinations the stranger may have been up to if that where the case. There were people native to this foul land who would chat up tourists and strangers and then mock their lack of understanding of the national past time, and certainly if anything salacious were revealed it may be of use in someone's blackmail scheme at a later date, but for the most part, he was not interesting enough to be worth that kind of time and attention. Unless someone had found out about his assignment and tracked him down, but if that were the case, the only thing that they could use this information for would be to set up some kind of ambush later, and he would already be on high alert for that until he quit his benighted land and returned home, so nothing much changed in revealing this information.

Overall, the risk calculus seemed worth it. His guest seemed harmless enough, although a quick check showed that she had at least middling ability with at least one Mark of Control. Still, that was not illegal here in Daravin, and was in fact encouraged. Disgusting nation.

"What do you say, then? Wish to travel with me? If so, we don't have to be overly formal. You may call me Remy," he said, allowing his Gentavaresian accent to come forth more fully when he said his pseudonym. "And you are?"