Walk About [Yvshold]

[Nnerka]

It did not take someone well versed in faces to see the sort of turmoil the boy went through with the simple act of taking off his mask. A crutch. A safety web. She might have felt sorry for him — might have. Instead, she watched his momentary struggle with a level of detachment that came with someone merely looking in on something private. She blinked as he finally looked up at her. It was almost as if he had not taken the mask off. A face void of expression and set on a default. As if the sculptor of his being had been unsure of what face to give, and decided that a nothingness of well set features would suffice.

She blinked again. “Ah, so you are cute enough to get away not being so bright.” Another observation made. He would need to do something about that stare, though. It was perhaps — aside from his being a Lysanrin — the thing helping him least. “Fix your face; you look constipated, sweetling. Try a smile.” She wondered if that might even be a stretch. But it would be good to learn.

“Oh, now you’re on your way to being a little gentleman. Yes; I would.” A chuckle punctuated her words, watching his momentary dismay at their difference in size. His dagger had not gone unnoticed, but would likely not be needed. She wondered how much use it actually saw.

Nnerka thought for a moment, considering where she had wanted to go as she took his hand. They made quite the pair to see out and about. “I heard there was this nice little shop that sells some poisonous insects. Been meaning to try them out. I haven’t had much chance to eat anything worthwhile these days. And since you were hunting.” She paused, smiled as she looked down at him as she began to lead him to where she could find said shop. “I assume you must want something to eat, as well.”

[Yshvold]

Too much, it was too much. His thoughts spiraled as they walked out. Her request for a smile had not gone without notice as he skewed his face into a malformed toothy grin, that resembled someone bordering on the edge of sanity. When he passed a place with a window reflective enough for him to see himself, he dropped the smile in shame and walked with her with even more of a frown than usual.

"Poisonous? I believe that might be bad for me. My Lady would not be happy with me if I should be sick for multiple days if she should need me." Yshvold voices his concerns over her choice in food plainly while his eyes shift around to the people around him.

Truly they were a sight to see. A giant of a woman, with her abnormal features, and a small young man, crowned with his curse of horns, walking side by side and hand by hand. He would glimpse someone staring his way and his stomach turned thinking about what they could be plotting.

Stop Staring at me.

This thought came up again and again as they walked but no one acted on hate or anger towards him. They did not seek to strike him for his food, rob him of any potential coin he may have, kill him for simply being there and another mouth to feed. Perhaps he felt that it would be better if they did, the creeping anxiety of the calm before the storm was always the worst. Being within the maelstrom of violence in a brawl for survival would be far more relaxing than waiting for it to come to him.

"I wish to say something, to ease my mind. I believe that I'm not comfortable being like this, I would rather have my mask off and fighting an army of starving beggers than waiting for someone to take their anger out on me. Do you not feel that? You seem different from these people, like you do not belong in some way, Why are you here? Is this truly your place of being?" Yshvold had to speak to keep his bottled feelings from exploding and accidentally attacking something that did not deserve it, and so he did. Rattling off whatever came to mind as he steadied his breathing and tried to calm himself for the walk. It does help, in some small matter, to simply talk and get his mind off of his situation.

[Nnerka]

She tried — truly, she had — to hold back the smallest of chuckles. Some slipped out before being confined to the pursing of her lips as she turned her attention to the path they took. It was around here somewhere that she’d heard about it.

“Your lady?” She quirked a brow, glancing down at the child a moment. “I’m sure she would appreciate you getting a tolerance for it. It’ll do not more than burn your tongue, I think.” Every child needed to have some tolerance for poison and venom. It would come in handy one day and if they didn’t survive — well, that was just the way of the world. But she sighed, conceded. “We could find you something to eat along the way. Tell me what you like.”

She turned to look at him again as he spoke, this time voicing a discomfort that she didn’t understand. They were in broad daylight; most people didn’t think to commit any act of crime towards another while the sun shone and witnesses could see. Like she did not belong. “I don’t feel that.” Simple, easy to understand. Maybe it was because she had always been the predator, set higher on the food chain than most others.

“Maybe I don’t belong.” It had been a long while she’d mused on where she belonged and where she didn’t. It was really all a matter of making space to belong. Claiming your part of a place that no one could take from you. Another perk of a predatory nature; it came easy. Like knowing where your hunting grounds ended and began. Knowing your limits was important, yes — but fear got you nowhere.

Nnerka crouched down again in front of the boy. Two arms settled on his shoulders, one hand cupping his chin so he was forced to stare at...at least two of her eyes. “No one belongs anywhere. These people that walk around? They are here on borrowed time and nothing more. They can say their family has lived here for generations, but any other person on the street could take that from them. I could take that from them if I wanted to. You, and your little knife, could do that if you wanted to. No one belongs anywhere unless they make it so.”

The fae sighed, pausing a moment. “And no, I don’t belong here, but this is temporary.” She shrugged. “All civilization is. The Wilds will always be. They came before and they will be here after.” A pat on his head, and she stood once more. Her gaze drifted to somewhere ahead of her. “Oh, look; there it is! Let’s go, sweet boy.”

[Yshvold]

Perhaps she is right and he truly does not belong anywhere, or maybe it is more complicated than that. Yshvold knew he was not educated enough to have the answers to these philosophical questions and had to take what answers he was given at face value. Miss Nnerka thought she had the answers for him and now it gets his curiosity going. What would Lady Petra or Miss Hozxi say?

As she knelt down and told him her perspective Yshvold's face skewed up in thought. The words were not lost on him but the concept was very foreign, and much of it was too complicated for his limited world view. The only thing that did make sense was her statement about her or him being able to take another's life away, but as to the why...

"Maybe Lady Petra will have more answers." Yshvold quietly says to him as Nnerka she stands and brings him somewhere else. Her offer to get him other food finally hit him as they finally find the building in questioin.

A plain building that uniformed with the others around it. On the outside it would blend in with most others but once a person set their eyes on it they knew something was a bit off. Firstly the sign attached hung over the entrance marked with a purple and yellow butterfly, "The Lavender Bed" it called itself. Curious, he thought, as a peak through the window displayed several types of beetles, butterflies, worms, and carapace insects all of which held some sort of stinger or claw.

Was this a place of dining? There were some seats inside, albiet only a few, but the people that came and went were not exactly ordinary compared to the usual rabble that walked the streets. Tattooed street toughs, some other exotic humanoids with their own insect like features, and many with a "wild" look in their eyes. Outsiders in his eyes and perhaps he does belong with this crowd. It gave him courage that humans were walking out without carrying their comrades in their arms and more of a willingness to try what she was offering.

"I don't wish to be rude, I will take your offer for a meal here." Yshvolds mind was made up and he stood up straighter to mount a more courageous front as one of the display insects twitched behind the glass. His stomach and mind however were protesting, but what did they know?

[Nnerka]

The selection within the shop was as she had hoped. Far more than those in the market had boasted, but small enough that it would not attract too large a crowd of daredevils hoping to try something new. Her gaze landed on the skittering shape of a long creature. Exoskeleton shining even in the dusted jar it remained in. The delicacies of her spiderling days. Nnerka leaned in close to further examine them, glancing at Yvshold. She would need to choose something else on his stomach.

“If you say so.” She let the last word drawl out, patting the boy’s head once more. The fae turned her attention to the little woman behind the counter, a smile upon her lips. Another moment of browsing among the jars and the tiny menu placard on the counter, and she had decided. “If I could have...hm. The Ghost Lacewing and roasted Grim Slaters for the little one, and a serving of the Royal Bubble Cricket and Basking Centipede noodles. Centipedes live would be preferable.”

The woman behind the counter nodded before peering over at Yvshold. As if to take stock of him before his order could be served. When she blinked, her eyelids slid vertically. Almost seemed to stick to the ball itself as they slowly dragged open once more. “Please; have a seat while you wait.” She gestured to the few tables behind them, before waddling off to the kitchen, voice raised to shout out the orders.

With time to wait and just the inkling of curiosity, her attention returned once more to the boy. “So, little Yvshold, tell me: who is this lady of yours?” She’d thought she’d heard him muttering about the mysterious lady when they were outside, but had been distracted. And he’d mentioned her before, with no name, in passing. Clearly, she must have been someone worth tethering himself to if he relied on her for matters of the conscience and way of the world. Though, there may need to be a correction on that last bit.

[Yshvold]

A tough front was held as Yshvold inspected the various crawlies on display as edible "delights". On the surface he held his typical front of stoic apathy but deep down he was deeply regretting his decision for this to be his meal for the day. Long pass are his days of eating garbage, sewer rats, and sometimes things that should be best left unsaid for fear of breaching social taboos but now he wishes he could go back to it for just this one instance.

Yshvold remains silent as Nnerka orders his dinner for him and the whatever-it-was took their order and... walked away? He felt as though he had woken up on the weird side of the bed and karma was making him pay for some misdeed he had committed in his life. Today spiders are doting on him and things with mandibles and pincers are for dinner, tomorrow giant hawks may as well come down from the sky and crown him king of the clouds and he wouldn't bat an eyelash.

It wasn't until Nnerka had sat them both down at a table and asked him the important question that made him react at all. Her ears must not be so good otherwise she would have heard him, he will take note of that. A dark shadow had been cast over his eyes as he stared her down appraising her threat towards his Lady, the air around him could have been said to have stood still and quiet at that one moment. A giant spider woman must be good at trapping prey and hunting but Lady Petra should be able to conjure more than what this woman can handle, and if it came down to it he would be able to stalk her until she left herself vulnerable. She would be no threat to him or Lady Petra.

Once his mind had been made up the tension was released and his icy glare vanished. "She is my Lady Petra. A wonderful mage and beautiful beyond your own grace. She is the reason I am still alive." At first his words came out cold but through the short explanation he talked with more fondness and warmth towards this person as his eyes shined. The grey slowly turning a vibrant blue until he finishes and the cold grey creeps back.

[Nnerka]

The little one went rigid — more so than he had been before — and that only served to make Nnerka more curious. She watched as he appraised her. Had she not been deemed a threat already? A careless mistake to make with one such as she. He was not the first to do so, either. She wondered what went inside that head of his before there was shift in his demeanor. The attempted tough guy routine, unfazed by anything; it melted away to something akin to adoration as he spoke of his Lady.

The name struck a chord, and it made sense. His behavior. “Lady Petra, the little bird.” She was two steps off from laughter as she considered. “Beautiful beyond my grace? You hurt my feelings, Yshvold.” That was colored with the tinge of a giggle, a raise of a brow. To think the would-be godling had found herself an admirer already. Or perhaps before the two of them had met. Almost remarkable. He seemed the devoted type, if his attitude was anything to go by. What wonders the little godling produced, even when she wasn’t present.

“I know of your Lady, very well.” Not well, but well enough. Their conversation had been interesting and the woman had practically melted into her embrace as all those who came to see her did. Eventually. “You owe her your life, do you?”

How sweet. Harmonious relationships such as what this must have been had existed within her clan before. Creatures not like them were of some benefit. “You sound like you have a crush on her, little beetle.”
As she spoke, their orders arrived. It was not the older woman, but a more spritely-looking creature. The buzz of insect wings as they fluttered nervously against one another, bulbous eyes raised to Nnerka’s face before darting down to the lysanrin opposite her. “Payment upon finishing.” Perhaps she suspected the other would not be capable of moving after the meal that was set before them.

Yshvold’s was still. The lacewings glittered with sugar crystals, stuck in perpetual flight as they were arranged on the plate. The slaters rolled into balls and crisped. They moved about the plate only as it was tipped from one side to the other, a sauce for dipping set in the center. Nnerka’s bowl, however, writhed. Sleek black exoskeleton caught the light as the centipedes wrangled the jelly crickets, little bulbs of molten gold that attempted to escape. The soft hiss of the centipedes filled her ears as she used chopsticks to prod at them and the noodles.

“Well? Eat.” She wasted little time enjoying her own meal, brushing back hair from her face as she leaned in. The centipede caught in the grasp of the wooden utensils squirmed. A jelly cricket had been caught in the crosshairs, bleeding out the liquidy insides that gave it its name. It glimmered as it dripped down into the bowl, a honey consistency connected it to the centipede and soon Nnerka as she opened her mouth and placed the centipede on her tongue.

The creature hissed as her lips wrapped around it, teeth sinking in. Crunch. The softest squelch as she parted one body segment from another. The legs still twitched as she pulled it away, humming softly as she swallowed. “Not bad.”

[Yshvold]

Why?

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

This word was the only thing he could think of as he stared daggers at his bowl of sugared insects. His eyes wander over towards the utensils and once more his lacking knowledge of social standards shines brilliantly. Hands are just as good as any fork or spoon, perhaps better since one may grab more than these tiny tools can carry. Lacking any knowledge of the toxin these bugs could contain, he first takes a single specimen and slowly places it in his mouth.

His first thoughts of sewer rats and garbage at the sights of insects were obliterated as the sugary taste overpowered any insect flavor, making them practically tiny sugar bombs. Then he grabbed a small handful, and then another, then even more. It was less of a dinner and more of a treat like some karmic gift for the weirdness he had to deal with today. The prementioned sky hawks will have to crown their king another day, these sugary bugs have his attention for now.

"I do not crush Lady Petra, why would I harm her? That is ridiculous. I just want to do what she wants to do. If someone would do something bad to her then I would make them gone." Yshvold says with a mouthful of lacewing, never taking his eyes off of the sugary goodness at his grasp.

Yshvold knew what an adrenaline rush was, he had become accustomed to the feeling and it no longer bothered him, but this was quite different. Energy coming to him in massive bursts and he could feel the blood in his cheeks as he continued eating at a rapid pace. "How are insects delicious, why do they not taste like this in the Middens?" Again he speaks with his mouth full, his body becoming jittery as he gobbles down the dish.

[Nnerka]

When she was younger, her mothers used to scold her for her manners. Or, well, lack thereof. Typically, it had much to do with the way she might bully a sibling into giving her the larger morsel, or the threat of taking a bite out of them. Watching Yshvold eat reminded her of those times. The barest of chuckles left her at his questions, coming faster now with the boost of sugar-given energy.

“I do not mean crush her.” She rolled her eyes, leaned in a moment to use a lower hand to brush sugar from the corner of his lips. “I mean that you might be…fond of her. More so than others.” She shrugged, pooping a jelly cricket into her mouth before lifting up more noodles and another centipede with her chopsticks. Though, she wondered if he understood even that explanation. “And don’t talk with your mouth full; you’ll choke.” As comical as it was to watch it happen, she didn’t exactly need him spitting up sugary insect bits into her own food. She quite liked the way it tasted as it was.

Perhaps the sugary dish was not the right choice for him. The jitters of extra, unchecked energy were beginning to show, and he would need to stretch his legs. But he hadn’t even touched the slaters. “Because they’re not cooked the same.” She was no judge of culinary prowess and she had very little skill of her own, but she could appreciate a good meal. “Eat your slaters, or they’ll go cold. It’s not like your food is running away.”

As if to illustrate her point, one of the centipedes nearly succeeded in its attempt to escape her bowl. It was thwarted by the snap of the head segment, legs squirming as Nnerka popped the segment into her mouth and swirled the noodles and punctured crickets around with the remaining live centipede.

[Yshvold]

Something about the way she ate that last centipede made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Yshvold's eyes went wide as he stopped stuff his mouth with the sugary goodness and his hand slowly hovered over the other plate full of rollie pollies. He never seen them dead in such quantities and not having them crawl on his hand as he picked them up felt wrong.

"People eat these?" Yshvold whispers to himself and he picks them up, eyebrow twitching as his stomach prepares for the inevitable onslaught of foreign food. An idea came to mind on how to make it go down better and he picks up another handful of sugar bomb lacewings to act as a chaser.

He remembered seeing these in excess for the longest time, they were usually a sign that a place was relatively safe to hide in as they were easy pickings for something that would be inclined to eat them. Now he is the eater of these defenseless isopods. Truth be told he did feel a little sorry for their state, but he was hungry.

After taking another mouthful of a mixture of slates and lacewings he thought that they made an interesting... texture. Swallowing whatever he had in his mouth he brought his eyes up to meet Nnerka's in their usual intensity.

"Of course I am fond of her. Only fools wouldn't understand. If someone was troubling her then she would only need to ask and they would trouble her no more. Ever." Putting emphasis on that last word gave it a feeling of finality towards whoever that person would be. What would be said by an ordinary child as merely playing at being tough or overprotective without a basis to stand on comes from the mouth of something small, broody, and armed.

"She hasn't asked that, yet. So I assume that no one is troubling her, which is smart for the people of this city. Would you agree?" Just as his intense aura came, it went as he went back to taking handfuls of sugar and isopod into his mouth.