Moonlight Guide

Moonlight Guide
Date of Scene:	29 December 2012
Location:	Traverse Area - Bodhum - Beach
Synopsis:	Another meeting and parting of strangers on the roads to and from Traverse town. Everyone has a story, and the road goes forever on and on.
Cast of Characters:	Sable, Faervel Tathren

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Sable has posed:
Soft sand and tropical trees. Tracks that stretch out into nowhere.

The shoreline gives a sparkling view of the ocean, the nightscape sparkling overhead and fading at the corners of the horizon by the constant Twilight this town enjoys. The beach is quiet and mostly uninhabited, the ocean pulling back and forth across the beach in a steady rhythm.

Somewhat down the beach, someone was practicing their knife form. The long knife (which was almost the length of the boy's forearm) sliced at the air in constant dancing repetition while they spun, rolled, dodged and returned again and again to the same circle of disturbed sand to begin the dance again. Sweat makes his skin slick, a discarded jacket laying in a crumpled pile near one edge of the disrupted circle.

Faervel Tathren has posed:

A beach was something Faervel has seen a few times in his travels. The waters waves were always a soothing sound on the troubled mind and a nice walk was sometimes all one needed. It only had been a few months since he lost his home to the darkness and since then he has been traveling. Making anywhere he can his bed to lay down his weary head.

This place would be no different, he figures.

High in the sky shadowing Faervel's movements and watching from high above with a beast no larger then a wyvern in some places with four legs and two wings that beat the air high above. The creature circles the sky, though the scale colors hard to make out from up so high in the night sky; only the beast passing the moon may catch eyes of those paying attention, but just as quickly...

The beast seemed to vanish in the shadows.

Faervel only glancing up in that moment with his gray-blue eyes, before pulling the hood over his head from the cape he wore that he rapped around him like a hood. The knowledge that someone was ahead of him was acknowledged by this action. He was unsure of who was ahead, but since they held a weapon. He would keep his distance for the time.

So as the elf now hiding his features by the hood starts to make his way toward the training warrior. He was watching his form, the movements. They were very curious and very interesting to watch indeed.

Sable has posed:
The style is something of an anomaly in many ways. There are definite threads of aggression shot through the nimble and athletic spiral of the kata, clashing to a near deadlock with an overlaying aura of restraint.

At some point during the dance of blades, the human teenager's restraint cracks apart. He lets out a short, sharp sound of anguish, the action prompting that they drive an armored fist into the beach. The hollow thump of the impact can not only be heard but almost felt as his entire arm shudders from the force of the blow. He sits there, in that crouching and hunched position, like an injured animal with his chest heaving several great lungfuls of air through grit teeth.

After several shuddering breaths they rise slowly to their feet again, flipping the large glaive back into it's casing and then out again several times as if trying to decide something. The teenager wipes his face, looking up at the stars but apparantly oblivious to anything that might be up there. He wipes his face again, shaking out his shoulders as he walks around in a small pacing circle until he begins the form again. This time the aggression is considerably shrouded by an absolute focus, the movements slow and precise instead of fluid. It is a combination of styles. A combination of things. Almost as patchwork as the armor and the clothing they wear and yet somehow they almost make it all work together.

Almost.

A wind whistles across the beach, rustling the tropical trees and bringing the feeling and the smell of salt and the cool ocean waters roaming across the strip of silvery moonlit sand.

Eventually the boy came to a stop again, their eyes closed as their head swept across the beach. When he opens his eyes, he is frowning slightly in the general direction of Faervael. He does not say anything but he does not continue. He merely waits.

Faervel Tathren has posed:

Faervel pauses as he watches the movements, even the cries in pain. He observes how the teenager fights and his motions. Ignoring a voice rumbling in his mind, as his eyes continue to watch on.

Though once the teen stops and his eyes come to stare at Faervel, the hooded figure then lowers his head before he at last speaks up, "Good evening," He says with a calm, smooth tone in his voice. "I have never seen such a style of fighting before, it is very impressive."

"I do hope I am not interrupting your training though, I know I use to dislike interruptions to my own." The hooded figure states before taking a few steps forward, placing out his hands which for a moment the metal of the bracers are caught in the moon light, but more correctly those mystical orbs on the bracers themselves. It does seem to the action to show he is disarmed as he movers in closer, "To be honest, I am a little lost. I have never been on these shores before. Do you know where the nearest town or village is by chance?"

Sable has posed:
The teenager's entire face shadows over, yellow sparking across their hazel eyes in a single moment of absolute withering fury to be caught yet again in a position of compromise. He mouth opens and the sneer forms but the acid words get lodged in his chest.

As if their rage was a fire that had been snuffed by a firmly placed glass jar, the fire goes out of his eyes as he observes Faervel. He looks away down at the sand, unarmored hand rubbing hard at his eyes and the bridge of his nose as he composes himself.

He turns away from Faerval, grabbing the jacket from the sand and roughly shaking the sand from the leather before throwing it over his shoulders. "Yeah.." his voice is remarkable steady when it does come out, and he turns back towards the stranger with his face tired but composed, his hair matted down by sweat. "Welcome to Traverse Town." there is only a hint of frustration and bitterness at those words. "..It's not far. Just up the beach in that direction." he points to the north. "Be careful though. It's still a little dangerous at night even though people have been setting up patrols and keeping an eye out for eachother. " he pauses for a long time before acknowledging the compliment. "..Thank you. I don't know why I even still practice-- but sometimes it's.. sometimes I still need it." he sighs. "I'm.." he trails off at that, then continues. "I'm happy to show you the way if you want."

Faervel Tathren has posed:

Faervel lowers his hands back down, they slip back into the cap he wears around his figure. There was a minor tilt to his head, before he lifts up his head, the moonlight casting light past the hood as he gives Sabel a warm smile. "Sometimes we practice, in order to remember I think. I practice my own form just so when I do get into a situation, I can still defend myself. As you stated, if the nights are dangerous here-- like many places-- then its best to keep a skill sharp, then let it get rusty."

The man then shrugs his shoulders gently before he continues his way up to Sabel. Then his hand extending out once more, the strange bracer now in plain view, "I would not mind the guide to the town and my name is Faervel. It is a pleasure, sir."

He then glances to the skies. "..I also have another guest, but he likes to stay out of sight though for good reason. He sometimes scares the locals at other locations." Then he looks back to Sabel once more.

Sable has posed:
"Oh? Well. Then they're hypocrites. Traverse Town is a town for lost people. What those people look like, or are, shouldn't matter should it?" And again the note of bitter irony. Sable ruthlessly squashes the tone in the next sentence, forcing himself to smile and to let a bit of cheerfulness into his voice. It is most certainly faked, but with also the aura that if he pushes hard enough, he might forget that it is faked and start becoming genuine. "I'm.." he takes a breath and lets it out, as though expelling the last of his frustration. "Sable. Sable Owens. And-- sometimes practice is for forgetting, just as well as remembering." he gestures up the path and begins the trek across the sand towards the town.

The way becomes more populated as they walk the few small bridges over the water back into the town proper. More than once Sable will stop for a moment to say a few words to someone or look up at the sky as if trying to find something there but he keeps a good pace after all. He has apparently hung around long enough to be minorly known here. "I'm guessing you're a visitor, Faervel? You're either a lot better at hiding the confused look most refugees have or you've made this journey more or less willingly."

Faervel Tathren has posed:

"I've been around a few places once my home was taken in by a darkness. So traveling from place to place and seeing new things becomes..." Faervel pauses as he tries to think of the right word, then snaps his finger. "..adventurous! May as well enjoy the sights and new sounds, instead of stumbling around like a lost traveler dazed."

The wind sudden shifts directions as something moves overhead, there was a beat of air. Something was indeed circling around.

"As for my friend, even if people did not care what he may look like, I am rather sure he-- probably be attacked. He isn't exactly a.. race.. that many see as being friendly." Faervel tries to explain without giving away just what this 'friend' was. There was a bit of a meek smile then. "Though the only harm he would bring to anyone though is if they were to harm me. He is-- very protective."

Those gray-blue eyes look forward once more. "So, you seem rather known in these parts. How long have you been in this area? If you don't mind me asking that is, Sir Owens."

Sable has posed:
Sable frowns at Faervel's story, but there is an edge of longing there as well. "Only a few weeks, but I've practically been on my feet every moment of the day most of that time. It feels a lot longer." he taps the insignia of the golden heart twined with black on his jacket. "I'm part of Hearts Intertwined. It's a charity group that helps people who have lost their homes. In particular, a lot of people from a place called Manhattan.. which fell just a few weeks ago."

Sable shakes his head, not trying to see anything anymore once he catches a glimpse and since he takes Faervel at his word, he stops worrying about it--overtly. "Don't call me Sir." he makes a gesture that waves the word away "That's-- got connotations I don't deserve or care for. I'm just-- doing the best I can. To help myself understand some things. May I ask where you have been before this? I'm always interested in the stories people tell about other worlds out there."

The two make their way to the town outskirts, where the spread of buildings is still winding and spacious and not the cobblestreet lined sprawl of closely packed buildings that line the avenues deeper into the city. Although the town is quieter at this time, there is always some thread of activity. Some shops are open, as well as inns and taverns.

The heart of business doesn't stop when there is no rise and fall of the sun, and there is always a need for goods of various types. Benches line the streets and small places of sprawling park greenery, flowers nodding their heads and bushes rustling.

Faervel Tathren has posed:

Faervel closes his eyes for a moment, before he opens them again to inhale the air deeply. "So the darkness still comes for other lands as well.. I guess it will not stop until it devours everything.." He whispers out.

Though he glances over at the symbol on the jacket and smiles softly. "It seems you are in with a good sort of people then. Helping out those in need. It always good to see that type of charity no matter where you go. To lose ones home, no matter what it be, is--" his voice trails off as he glances off in the distance for a moment. "-- is.. a tragic thing.." His hand then idly rubs one of the bracers as his brows furrow for a moment. "..even more when you lose those close to you and all you can do is watch.." He glances over to Sable then. "It is indeed a good thing that you and your group is there for those people.. and I will remember to not call you sir, Owens.." there was a beat pause, "..or should I just call you Sable?"

Then when he was asked about where he had been, he laughs softly. "I am not sure where some of you may call it here, but I have been to places such as Ivalice.. I believe it is called.. and other such lands like it. A place where monsters roam the wilds and dragons live in caves. Creatures that can be summoned to aid in combat to those who have mastered the arts of both holy and dark." Faervel explains with a warm smile once more on his face. "I, myself, was trained as a Dragoon by an old family friend." He then frowns, "..sadly the man who trained me has passed away some time ago, so I am currently what remains of his legacy of teachings."

Faervel looks away then. "I have yet to meet another dragoon who was trained the way I was, though I have heard that those of a place called 'Baron' may have at a time been trained the same way as I was." He shrugs his shoulders. "If it is true or not, I have yet to find out."

When they arrive closer into the city, Faervel slows down his steps a bit to gaze over the structures, the cobblestone pathways, and study the building themselves. There was a small look of concern on his face, as he glanced back toward the way they came. He stared for a long moment, before he moving back at his normal pace once more. "..This is remarkable place though. Looks like it can house quiet a bit of people here."

Sable has posed:
Sable lets the words wash over him in waves.

He doesn't offer any comment or explaination until he begins to slow at the end of an intersection he is familiar with. He steps to the side, keeping out of the way. "I've heard of Ivalice and Baron. I suppose every world has it's own wonders and perils." he shrugs a shoulder again to denote his lack of opinion on the topic.

"And Sable works for now." He gestures down the road. "There's a couple of places, and a hotel that's not too far a walk from here if you are in need of one. You've probably noticed currency shifts back and forth, so it'll still work no matter what it looks like. Since so many people come here from so many different places, you're eventually bound to find what it is that you are looking for. I suppose-- it's just a matter of being patient."

That last sentence seems to be rather pointed at himself than Faervael.

Faervel Tathren has posed:

Yeah, Faervel can be a fountain of words at times; other times he can be extremely shy and very quiet. Depends on if he is dealing with just /one/ person, or a /group/ of people on how he ends up acting.

As Sable moves to the side and motions to where the hotel was. Faervel only frowns a little for a moment, before he places back on a smile and looks to the teen. "Thank you for showing me the way and I am sorry for chattering away. I did not get the chance to ask out of curiosity, but-- where are you from and what is it like where you are from?"

He tilts his head a little to the side, seeming genuine interested in what Sable may have to say. Perhaps not the wisest thing to ask, but he would find out if that was true or not soon enough.

Sable has posed:
" It's alright. I've gotten used to people talking at me." He smirks dryly. "I do try to at least listen. Anyways the place I'm from no long exists." Sable says without rancor but without real enthusiasm. "And I try to keeping working and not think about it. It-- still hurts, even though it's been awhile since I've seen home." Sable shrugs the question away. "And what is home like, really? I could pretty much tell you anything-- maybe I'd be right. Maybe I just remember it that way. Whose to say. "

Faervel Tathren has posed:

Faervel listens and nods softly. "I can-- relate to the loss of my own home as I was from Elfheim." He glances away. Such a name probably states exactly /what/ he is to Sable if Sable even knew of the place. "But, even if it is just memories and not truth.. it is the memories that are the most important. As they are.. sometimes.. all we have."

Faervel then steps away before he lets out a sigh, then places out his hand. "Thanks again, Sable. Hopefully we can meet again. If your group needs help with any building or metal work, let me know. I know some things on construction and I use to do blacksmithing. I may be able to lend a hand while I am here. The only pay I'd ask for is just a few sacks of meat for myself to cook and for my friend.. though I hate to ask for anything, but one does have to live.. and hunting sometimes isn't so easy in some places."

Sable has posed:
"Yeah. One has to live.. somehow." Sable mutters to himself. He shakes Faervel's hand and manages a smile that isn't quite so forced. "Take care of yourself Faervel. I'll see if I can look you up if we need need help. Things are winding down here, but there are other chapters on other words who are usually always in need of something.