A Day Off (Yeva)

[Franky]

Thread Title

Eikaeus, Searing 5, 121

It was the first day off of the new season for Franky. Normally he slept in on working days, but he was up with the first light of the sun. It was the Dragon God King's Day, and while some people chose to keep their businesses open on those days, Franky was not one of them. Tradition was important. Plus he loved his days off, especially since he was the only one here. He slipped out of bed, turning and making it, tight sheets just like had been taught into him back in his military days.

He then walked over to his bath, and began running the water, using only the hot water tap. As it was filling, he walked back into his bedroom and out into his office. He opened his private liquor cabinet, and poured himself some fingerlings of a fine Moratallen whiskey. It cost a pretty penny and the supply of it was pretty inconsistent, but he kept a crate of it on hand just for himself. The Hobgoblin took a long sip, loving the smooth burn of it, dipping back into his bathroom, and stepping into the scalding water.

Franky enjoyed the heat of his bath for a few long hours, sipping on the whiskey slowly, after all, it was made to be strong enough for giants, and just let his body unwind. The hot baths reminded him of the hot springs from his tribe back home. He smirked, remembering all of the good times he had there. Still, new land, new times to be good. Once the water had grown tepid, Franky finished his drink, stepping out of the bath and drying himself off, letting the water drain. He washed and dried his glass, returning it to his cabinet.

Franky dressed plainly, as he typically did. A thin, white, linen button up, open at the chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of dark brown linen trousers, and some Orkhan leather sandals he'd grown found of recently. He grabbed a coin pouch, filling it from his petty cash stash, tying it to the chain he'd had sewn into his pocket. Franky grabbed his leather hat from his hat rack. It was old, worn, but still held up. He fitted it onto his head, smiling, as he grabbed his key. He slipped out of his office, locking it behind him, down the steps and out of the tavern, locking it again as he went.

Out on the street, he knew he wanted to go somewhere for brunch. His stomach was grumbling, and his muscles and demeanor relaxed from his drink. It was a beautiful, sunny day out, and Franky was all smiles. He slipped around the alley and stepped on to the cobbled stones of the Bulge, making his way toward Copper Cut. He walked at a slow pace, before deviating off the path to his right, walking out to the cliffs. He stopped there on a large rocky outcrop, looking down over Sheckle Alley. He could see the residents waking up, moving around in the street busily. He liked watching them from up here. He knew some of them were his regulars, and he knew more would be in time. He loved being up here on the cliffs, he loved the views.

Still smiling, he turned back to the road, walking along, his eyes watching as people went about their way. Up ahead, he saw Mama Kortana setting out the tables with her son. That seemed as good a place as any for a leisurely brunch. He sauntered over, removing his hat before speaking, holding it in front of his stomach. "Good morning Mama Kortana, Breckle. Do y'all need any help?" The pair looked up and the older ork smiled at him toothily, "You're sweet, but y'know I don't let customers do any work here, boy. Now park your rump, I'll be with you in a bit."

Franky shook his head laughing, as he picked a corner table, a spot for two, right next to the road. He knew she'd still be a few minutes until she came to give him a menu. He put his hat on the corner of his chair and took his seat. He leaned back, one arm resting on the table, and simply watched as people walked by. He loved people watching, it was a perk of working the tavern. Except now he could do it without having to worry about serving them.

[Yeva]

T H E - F O O L

The dawn arrived, and with it came the steady rhythm of mechanical feet, thump-thump-thumping against the bedside table. An alarm; Persistent but effective, shaped in the form of a clockwork bunny, no bigger than an hen's egg. It hopped across the wood, clattering about and seemed to evade every blind swipe from the woman's hand. Yeva threw back the comforter and groaned, gaze bleary as she adjusted to the waking world.

She looked for the culprit.

Thump. Thump-thump.

The metal bunny continued to knock and shake, marching faithfully towards the edge to dive towards the floor, where it squirmed and rattled towards the bed, "Alright!" she whined, lurching her torso over the edge of the mattress in a wave of impossible curls. She had to find that damnable contraption, "I'm awake."

Grabbing the gadget, she pushed its rounded tail until it clicked into place, where the creature stilled until tomorrow's morn. Finally, peace.

In the silence following, it was almost too quiet. Yeva let the rest of her weight be pulled downward by gravity, sliding from the warmth of the covers to spill, limb by limb upon the old wooden floor. She stared at the ceiling, night dress twisted about her thighs and exhaled as the change in comfort lulled her further awake.

Good morning, Zaichaer.

It was time to get up.

***

Yeva began with making her bed. It was a quick process, well practiced. She paused once to release a mighty yawn, and then, after fluffing the pillows and smoothing the quilt, drew the water for her bath while two eggs boiled on the stove. She undressed and scrubbed herself, special attention paid to her hair, which would frizz atrociously if left to its own devices. By the time she was finished with teeth brushed, she was fresh and pink and most importantly, alert.

And then it was time for breakfast. After slipping into a faded blue dress and socks, Yeva spooned the eggs into a tin and drew back the blinds, cracked the windows, and grabbed her tarot cards. It was most certainly worse in other areas of the city, but to her... there always seemed to be an oily tinge to Zaichaer. In some ways it was the smell of industry. She wanted to believe it meant success. Hardwork. Fortitude.

Ever the optimist, after all.

Perching herself upon the sill, she leaned into the smell of fresh air and overnight smog, removing the cards from their box as the city below began to awaken. Shuffling was second nature now, done more times than she could count on her journey over. The mannerism had started as a nervous tick, a little something to distract her instead of worrying and it had worked. Now it was habit.

Yeva closed her eyes and enjoyed the morning breeze. Down below, businesses were unlocking doors, men and women were beginning their trudge to work. Across the street, tables and chairs were being set up by an orc woman, signs of the local eatery prepping for its mid-morning customers.

A familiar face came strolling up down the path, wandering below her window to the front door of the antique shop below. It was a middle aged man, balding on the top of his crown. He was perhaps handsome in his youth, but now familial exhaustion haggard his features and his weak chin seemed somehow amplified by the unfortunate goatee he thought would hide it. He and his wife had once lived in the apartment Yeva resided in currently. The pair had quickly outgrown it after the birth of their first child, then their second, and by the third, the space was maddeningly small and the family was forced to relocate.

The Utter Clutter, an antique shop and trinket emporium, had of course, remained open.

"Mr. Nessinger!" Yeva laid down the cards and wrestled with the window, huffing as she jerked it open inch by inch. The shop keep, hearing his name, turned to look up and down the street, unsure where the source had come from, "Mr.-" Frustrated, she knocked her shoulder into the frame, loosening the pane with a shake and clatter. The stubborn window flew open and the Hytori woman popped her head outside shortly after and beamed at the landlord, who had dropped his ring of keys at the sound. Her arm hurt.

It would probably bruise too, "Stay there, I'll be right down!"

"Miss Bleu?" he seemed genuinely surprised to see her. As if forgetting he was her landlord, tilted his head back, adam's apple bobbing, "What are you doing up there?"

She disappeared and came bounding down the fire escape, cards in hand, "Do you want to have tea with me?"

The laces of her boots were still undone, hastily thrown on and she looked a bit breathless.

"Tea?" the man looked genuinely shocked.

"Yes! Or coffee, if that's what you like," she smiled and then pointed to an empty table near a goblinoid. Mr. Nessinger wrung the keys in his hand. She continued,"We could sit right over there, so you could still watch any customers," What a lovely plan, she thought, "I was hoping we could discuss the rent."

His face paled but Yeva didn't seem to notice, "You don't have it?"

"Hm?" she tilted her head, curls shifting to reveal the point of ear. The question took its time in registering, "Oh! No, no, I have it. Sorry- ah," she smiled, "I was actually hoping to pay in advance."

Apparently they would have the conversation now, "And, I was wondering about the rules on decoration." Yeva had been daydreaming of a fresh coat of paint, and... well... a pet, if he'd allow it. Both him and his wife were humans, and while they interacted with other races regularly on the Copper Cut, Mr. Nessinger was far more forgiving. Yeva was convinced that when his wife found out they were renting to a Hytori, the woman would burst a blood vessel then and there.

She didn't understand it. Was it because she was a young woman alone or because she was an elf?

Either way, it was a good day when he opened. Yeva had a whole pitch prepared, but first, she needed to get his attention, "You know what? I'll go get us a seat!"

"Yeva, er, Miss Bleu," he corrected, clearing his throat, "Today's inventory, and the whole shop needs a scrubbing," he frowned, shaking his head apologetically, "I'd be happy to discuss this later, but right now...." Busy.

"Oh."

Mr. Nessinger unlocked the front door and took the first steps inside. It was possible he didn't wish to interact with her more than necessary. Yeva genuinely hadn't considered him saying no. At least not to the drink part, "You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, of course." Somehow overlooking that detail made the moment all the more mortifying. Warm brown eyes dropped and she shuffled her cards.

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

Yeva stiffened, face growing hot. She may have lied about her employment prior to becoming their tenant. It had only been a little white one. She was employed...sometimes... just... not... as consistently as he thought.

Her voice was small, along with her smile when she finally looked up, "Day off."

"Well then," he nodded towards the restaurant, effectively dismissing her, "Go enjoy your tea. I'm sure we'll have time to talk later."

A little bell rang as the door shut behind him.

[Franky]

Thread Title

Time Stamp

Franky heard the cry of someone's name, clearly a call for attention. His ears seemed to always be attracted to the sound of names called out in curt directness, a habit from his years in the Imperial Army. Looking next door, he saw a huge mess of red curls spill out of a window, hollering at an older man. An interested smirk grew on his face as he watched her bound with quite the enthusiasm down the metal stairs, reaching the senior in a slightly disheveled but endearing approach.

Mama Kortana, "What to drink, boy?"

"Coffee, black, please. And surprise me on the food please, something light."

Mama Kortana laughed, "One day ya'll actually order food that's on the menu, instead of makin' me guess."

She turned and laughed, and Franky went back to watching the redhead. He could see her trying to get the old man to come to the cafe he was at. Was this a daughter or granddaughter of his? From here, he looked human, she had the pointed ears, but maybe she was a half-breed. Plenty of those running around the Knob here. He watched as the older man seemed to make excuses that Franky couldn't hear, before practically shutting the door on the woman's nose.

Nope, not family. Just another Zaichaeran human treating an elf as they thought should be treated. Business as usual here. Breckle came over, carrying Franky's piping hot coffee, and Franky placed two silvers on the table. One was the tip, the other, he left a single finger on as he looked at the younger man, "That redheaded elf across the way. Invite her to my table, please, take her order. I'll pick up her tab." Breckle, looked confused, for he was a bit of an awkward boy, "Okay..."

Franky released his hold on the second silver, and the boy scooped them up, pocketing them. He then beelined his way over to the redhead, blushing profusely on his arrival, stammering, unable to meet her eyes, or anywhere remotely close to them. "Um... miss... Mr. Franky... he um... would like for... you to join him. His treat." He pointed back toward Franky, who just sat there, in his more neutral, often mistaken for serious face, just before he brought his coffee up for a sip, setting it back gently upon the saucer.

[Yeva]

Yeva tilted forward, peering through the shop window while chewing on the skin of her bottom lip. That could have gone better, she reflected, replaying the interaction in her head. She analyzed the memory of his tone of voice, his body language, if her invitation had been unwelcome or if she had said something to warrant discomfort. Then again... Maybe Mr. Nessinger was telling the truth. It just seemed an awfully strange day to do inventory. Maybe h-

"Um... miss... "

Yeva turned quickly, surprised by the voice of another. Too caught in her own thoughts, she hadn't noticed the figure that approached. He must have been eighteen or so. An orc boy, the same one who had been setting out chairs for the cafe, stood before her. He was staring at the ground, gaze shifting and her eyes followed. Yeva tried to follow their pattern but couldn't quite find what had caught his attention so.

"Mr. Franky... he um... would like for... you to join him. His treat."

"Who?"

The boy looked mortified. He pointed back across the street and she leaned to the side to look past the youth at the goblin she had noticed but not looked at. He was sipping a hot drink.

"Uh," she wasn't sure what to say. Yeva turned the tarot deck over in her hand. She could help the question that played loud in her mind. Why? Had he overheard her?

I guess the only way to find out is to ask.

"Okay," she waited for the boy to do something, to move first. He sort of just shuffled, unsure if he should lead the way or let her go. Finally, Yeva smiled, feeling a strange sense of guilt for involving someone so clearly uncomfortable, "Thank you."

Yeva waved goodbye to the messenger and inched her way forward towards the stranger that had invited her over, stopping a polite distance away. She hadn't yet decided if she should sit, "Good morning," she greeted, "You must be Mr. Franky?" she looked over her shoulder before realizing she did not catch the teen's name, "Your friend said you had treats or something," she grinned playfully, pausing when she looked at the seat. Sitting almost felt like an agreement to dine, but it felt rude to stand so far away. She drummed her fingers on the back of the open chair, "My name's Yeva."

Now closer, she could smell the rich coffee. It was a yummy smell, but somehow out of place in the hand of someone so stout and scarred. Just... Unexpected. Like her entire morning, it seemed.

The misstep with Mr. Nessinger. The orc boy. This strange Mr. Franky, inviting her to join him. His treat. Was it awful to think this was some sort of trap? Outside of looking like he had been in his share of scraps, she saw no reason to be unpleasant. In fact... maybe he would know a thing or two about fighting in the city. The realization convinced her sitting might not be so bad and the redhead fanned the deck, holding it out, "Would you like to draw a card?"

[Franky]

Thread Title

Time Stamp

Franky's neutral look stretched into a broad smile, a rare sight for people not particularly familiar with the race that had a reputation for being a bit more battle hardened. After all, the Imperium was rather full of Hobgoblins, so all the neighboring lands knew the tales of them and their bloodthirsty, war hungry nature. People knew the small nations that had been conquered by the Imperium in just the time Franky had served. Franky like smiling though, it felt nice, and he particularly enjoyed seeing the reaction it instilled in others.

And it only stretched further at the light joke that Yeva played at Breckle's, or possibly his own, expense. A genuine smile, and the lightest of chuckles behind it. He could see how she was considering sitting down, not sure if she wished to commit to such a thing. Smart. She knew nothing about him, he assumed. And he didn't know her culture, but in his own, back home, sitting down at a table one wasn't invited to was a guarantee for blood to be drawn.

But he wasn't in the Imperium anymore.

"Yes, I am Franky, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Yeva."

Then an eyebrow was raised as he recognized the flourish of the brightly imaged cards, with the accompanying words behind them. A mystic was offering to peer into the mists and see a path for him. He was honored. He hadn't come across a mystic in years, not since...

"I would love to, Yeva. But I must ask that you spare me an extra moment or two for me."

His hand left the table, reaching down to his hip, into his pocket. He plucked a copper out, intimately familiar with the feel of each coin. He pulled it out, held it up between them, "The Goblin King must always be given a piece of all fortunes." He closed his eyes and nodded at it, opening them back up, and with a flick of the wrist, flung it out into the street, away from where anyone was walking, watching as it bounced away out of sight down a side alley. "It seems the Goblin King accepts my tithe."

He stood slightly, crouching a bit as he reached across the table between them, his eyes showing the seriousness and deference he paid toward this act. He let his fingers be guided by instinct, plucking out a single card. He did not look at it yet, keeping it turned face down on the table as he sat back down. His fingers rested gently on top of the card, his gaze cast up toward Yeva.

"Yeva, would you like to join me?"

He kept his gaze on her face, as he then flipped the card, not looking at it himself. The Two of Cups had revealed itself to the mystic, and Franky was curious as to what she'd have to say next.

[Yeva]

Mr. Franky smiled, which she Yeva couldn't tell if absolutely terrifying or oddly reassuring. She dared believe it to be the latter, as anything else would just be considered rude given the circumstances of the invitation. She was partial to the large tusks of the Orkan than the sharp, razored teeth of the hobgoblin...the colorful skin on either was a nice touch. How did he get so many scars, she wondered?

War.

Were the stories true?

He introduced himself and then requested another moment of her time. "The Goblin King must always be given a piece of all fortunes," he explained, closing his eyes. Yeva's attention followed him curiously as he pulled out a coin and sent it skittering down across the cobblestone where it was devoured into the mouth of an alley. Her understanding of goblin culture was lacking, even more so on their acts of piety, "It seems the Goblin King accepts my tithe."

She had no idea. Yeva wondered if she would throw a coin down the street, but she had only brought a small amount. A far cry from a fortune, "Ceremony is important," she agreed, curious as to how he could tell it had been successful. Her family, as most Hytori, were rather traditional. It would be best then, if she showed caution to displaying reverence to entities unknown. Mr. Franky might have been polite, but he was not her friend.

In fact, offering him a card was a risk in itself. Zaichaer was...

Stubborn.

Mr. Franky drew his choice and laid it face down on the table, watching her.

He flipped it and she laughed, "An interesting choice of words for a man who has drawn the two of cups," she restacked the deck in her hand and nodded, "I can't stay for long, but... a round wouldn't hurt, I guess."

Mr. Nessinger and his refusal were already falling from her mind. She looked at the chosen painting and began to fall into it, growing lost in its imagery. She thought of her grandmother's divination lessons.

What did she see? What did she feel?

Listen to the voice of intuition.

Yeva lowered herself into the chair across from Franky, while her hands set aside the deck, cut it, and she drew three cards without looking, holding them to her breast. To onlookers, it would appear she was playing a game; A woman merely thinking on her turn in response to his own. The Hytori selected her words carefully, "Have you played before?"

Breckle shuffled over to fulfill the second part of Franky's request: Take her order. Having witnessed him working and to spare them both a round of awkwardness, Yeva requested a cup of loose leaf black tea. Again, the orc would not look at her. She frowned, saying nothing, and scooted forward to focus on the task at hand.

"The suits of cups are tied with the element of water," still a novice reader, it helped when she took what she had learned and worked through it by explaining the details, "In tarot, twos, in particular, are associated with relationships, choices, and decisions." With only one card, the snapshot of information was limited. She did not know what area of his life this was meant for, gently reaching across the table and turning it so that she could see the details of its art better, "You have drawn the card upright," she noted, seeing the couple each holding a chalice at even height. They stood side by side. In some cultures, it appeared as a wedding, "This is card of a union. A new or deepening partnership. Sometimes marriage," In many readings, the card could be argued to represent love and marriage, but without more to clarify, she would not swear for certain, "But not always... More like...." she paused, pursing her lips together in thought, "Hmm... Do you see how neither cup is held higher than the other? It is equality. Mutual respect. Understanding. And here, how the snake intertwines? Connection."

Yeva grew quiet for a moment, as if listening to a voice only she could hear.

She could almost slip into the memory...

"I cannot say this is for something already in your life, or something to come. But-" she smiled with a soft sigh, pulling her hair to one side so that it would not spill across the table, "This is a card of good omen and promise. In love or friendship, there are few cards that will call for such depth and harmony in a relationship. With wealth... it would be unwise to treat this card as a sign of boundless fortune, but there is comfort here."

She showed him what she meant. The man and women were dressed well, wreaths crowning their heads. The chalices were made of gold. The more she worked through the card, the more confident she felt in its interpretation, "As the twos always signal balance, it is likely that you’ll be having enough funds coming in to cover what you spend. Be wise and you will not be punished."

"You will find support and harmony in the people around you, or perhaps a truce. A new partnership will be fruitful and you will work well together. This card suggests that you may also have the natural gift of bringing people together to work more effectively."

There was something else about the image she wanted to say, but she hesitated, unsure...

What kind of person was Franky?

What did fate have in store for him?

Breckle emerged with a teacup, saucer, and a kettle of hot water. Yeva swiped up the card at once and merged it with those in her hand, ever curious as to what the men were thinking.

[Franky]

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Time Stamp

Franky had a brief thought as to whether or not the Yeva was being truthful about having to be quick. But, she was a mystic. It didn't matter. Those types didn't deal in truth and falsehoods. And when she asked if he'd played, the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight grin, "Yes, though it has been several years, back in the Imperium. Well, what would become part of the Imperium."

He watched as Breckle came and took her order. It was very odd for him to see an orc that was so skittish. But that was what happened when one was raised in the softness of a city. No orcs or hobgoblins in the Imperium would be like that, all serving in the Army and learning the confidence this boy lacked. It was a shame. Franky hoped the boy would be able to find his way on his own, severing that tie to his mother's apron strings.

His judging eyes returned to Yeva, and he listened with all the attention and respect as if the Goblin King himself were speaking. Hell, even the Goblin King sought the wisdom of mystics. And he let his mind follow her words. Water, to him, meant the booze he poured for so many others. Partnership... that was a little trickier, for he had no partners, yet. Equality. That was... interesting. It certainly wasn't something that existed here in Zaichaer. At least in the Imperium, one such as himself could earn equality.

He felt himself following the entrancing sound of Yeva's voice, hoping to step a bit into the mystical realm she called to for wisdom. Comfort... Comfort was certainly something he could get behind. That was why he built this place, to live the rest of his days in comfort, of his own choosing. The tones of partnership and balance was... interesting. Did he need to seek out partners? Was Zaichaer the partner? He knew where he stood in the food chain here, where the Knob stood. All of this gave Franky a long pause for thought, one that continued as Breckle brought by Yeva's tea.

When Franky finally spoke, he did so with his eyes locked onto Yeva's with his own severity. "I have been in Zaichaer for two seasons now. And for the first time since I was born in our mountain village in the Imperium, I am alone. And yet, it sounds as though the threads of fate do not seem to think that will last long."

Then he smiled, softening his serious face, "I hope that is the case. I run a tavern, back down that way, in the Bulge. I am certainly bringing people together, though efficient work is only me for now. And really, not that efficient."

He chuckled a bit, "It's strange being alone in this...," he didn't say the word, but his tone was one that any non-human in Zaichaer might understand, "land." His eyes were terribly serious at this, an acknowledgement of just how Zaichaer treated his, and her, kind. But then his military discipline slipped back over his eyes like a mask, "I'm most intrigued to meet a skilled," slipping into a sly grin, "poker player here in Zaichaer. It was most unexpected. The game does not seem to be appreciated by many here."

He sipped at his coffee some more, and he offered her a bit of himself in exchange for the next question. "I came here, seeking comfort away from an old life. What brings a cards player?"

[Yeva]

Yeva had offered a blind reading, albiet a simple one. To hear even the slightest details of Franky's life and how her interpretation of the card could be relevant enacted a rush of excitement and fear. His intense interest in every syllable was soon returned as he revealed tidbits about himself, "Two seasons and you already have a business in a city like this?" she asked surprised. And I thought getting a single room at a fair price was tricky, She was new to Zaichaer as well, but he was already carving a name for himself. In many ways, Yeva still felt lost when it came to the direction she wished to pursue, "I actually only arrived a few days ago myself... It is odd, isn't it?" she mused, "I had many friends and family in Sol'Valen."

Yeva reached for the teacup that had been brought and peered inside at the dried tea leaves, thinking of her own intentions for the future. Yeva started pouring in the hot water, looking up as a seriousness swept away Franky's smile. There was a pause.

"I'm most intrigued to meet a skilled," the grin returned, but it was cunning, "poker player here in Zaichaer. It was most unexpected. The game does not seem to be appreciated by many here."

She remained quiet, offering a small smile of thanks. Skilled was a generous term. Had he drawn a whole spread, things would have gotten far more complicated and her inexperience would have been revealed itself further. The steaming water grew murky, bits of leaves rising to the surface to swirl in circles. While the drink brewed, she cupped her hands around its walls while the hobgoblin asked an unexpected question.

What brought her here?

"The opposite, really," the young woman hadn't be asked that question often. Most in Zachaier were more interested in when she would be leaving rather than why she had come, "There are always things that stand out in life, you know? Things that catch your eye and you're never really sure why?" she tried to gauge whether or not Franky knew what she meant, afraid she sounded awfully foolish, "Back home, I was having a bad day. I remember walking home crying, although... well, now I don't really know why. An argument with my eldest brother, maybe," Yeva finally set the deck aside and centered her tea before her, "I was going past this shop, dozens of books all on display with the most beautiful covers. And there, in the corner was this little... black... thing. A book, barely as big as my hand. Its binding was all waterlogged, as if it had been left in the rain. Sold secondhand, I think, and I just..." Yeva recalled the memory, "I just had to have it."

"I think perhaps it must have looked as sad as I felt," Yeva chuckled softly, "I have gone there a hundred times. Thousands. I could spend hours, just wandering around, but when I walked into the shop that day, I saw nothing else," Putting the entire deck in her left hand, backs facing outward, she rapped on the stack of cards three times in cleansing, "I don't think the seller had expected anyone to buy it. In fact, it wasn't even on record as being a part of the inventory. Just a little book, no title. Just a name - Apetsi."

Yeva still had a hard time believing it had happened. It was funny how the smallest moments could have the biggest impact,

"I ended up taking it home, delighted, of course. Most of the writing was destroyed... There, right in the middle of it was a passage that has always haunted me." she blew upon the steaming tea and took her first sip, the heat biting at her tongue. She licked her lips, wishing for sugar, "'The comfort zone is where dreams are slowly starved to death.'"

The redhead took another drink, "I never really traveled anywhere before, and Zaichaer was about the most opposite of Sol'Valen that I had ever heard of so...." she grinned, holding her hands up, "Here I am."

After finishing her story, Yeva seemed to realize just how much she had talked... and who she had spoken to... and what she had said. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped, "I'm so sorry," a deep blush began to spread across her cheekbones and towards the tips of her ears. "I didn't mean it like... Oh no," she scooted back in her chair, realizing how her tale could have been taken. Franky had come here for comfort and she had practically insulted the very concept, "There's nothing wrong with comfort! I mean... it's... it's... it's really good and all."

She was going to choke on the foot she put her mouth, "I'm sure you have dreams. And your tavern's probably great, and - Uh.. that's like the opposite of starving and dying and....I... I..."

Yeva was afraid to know how red she had become, "I'm going to stop talking now."

[Franky]

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Time Stamp

Franky could appreciate her words as well. She wanted something new, she wanted that rush of the adventurous, the unknown, the excitement and lack of monotony that came with all of that. He could appreciate that for he'd been there once too, in his youth. While conscription was mandatory for his kind, he'd actively sought it out. Being a middle child of a large family, one who enjoyed a comfortable life, he had wanted more than his village, more than his people.

And he'd found it, and so much more, when he entered the military.

The knowing smirk was gifted to the mystic in response to her sharing. He listened intently as she elaborated upon her story, finding hers not terribly so different than his own, just at different chapters. And when she had stumbled upon what she thought might be an insult, he could only smirk, letting her finish her little ramble. It was good for that sort of thing to go uninterrupted. Sometimes one needed to hear themselves out loud.

He watched her go into flight mode, scooting her chair back, ready to flee from a sudden outburst of violence. He saw how her entire face deepened to the color, and further, of her hair. And she slipped into the silence of acquiescence. And that was when Franky spoke, starting with a look of teasing and jest, just as he would wear when meeting a new recruit under his command.

"If that's the best insult for me and my tavern you can come up with, then I can consider this a good day. I've heard far worse from far lesser folk than yourself."

Then he dipped into a glower, the likes only a commander, or a mother, might be able to pull off.

"However, next time hold your ground on your words. Fear and weakness is a cruel mistress in this land for people like us."

Then Franky relaxed a bit more, "After all, ask yourself, why might one such as myself open a tavern here in Zaichaer, of all places. Surely it would not be to chase that singular idea of a comfortable life, yes?"

He let that idea float out in the air between them. He'd chosen Zaichaer for many reasons, and one of those was the fact that it wouldn't be easy. He knew what would happen if he settled into an easy life. He'd grow fat, weak, and probably marry a humble, big breasted goblin woman, have a whole litter of children and die of gout.

He preferred the multitude of options along this difficult road he'd chosen instead.

"But don't go silent on my account. Those words from your book are correct. But we have a similar saying back home, one that elaborates upon that idea a bit more." He smiled broadly, "'The comfort zone is where dreams are slowly starved to death, but only the hungry dare to dream.'"

He finished his coffee, setting the cup and saucer on the end of the table. The boy orc came over to fetch it. Without looking at the boy, "A flask of water and two cups." The boy silently nodded, taking his cup and dashing off to fetch the water.

"You wouldn't be here if you weren't hungry. This is a place for humans to grow fat. Not us."

[Yeva]

5 Searing 121

Knowing he wasn't offended made the woman relax a bit more and she offered a small smile of relief, "Good." I've been so on edge, she nearly admitted, leaning back in her chair and looking at the street. Yeva took a sip of her tea, using her teeth to filter the loose leaves. Zaichaer was just so different than she had been expecting, "Socially, it's just been... Yeva struggled to pick a word that encompassed her feelings on the matter, "Rather hit or miss..."

Although she had not been in the city very long, Yeva had already learned there were some things you shouldn't say or do freely. She couldn't tell if it was just the culture or the fact she was Hytori. Certain types of individuals caught sight of her ears poking out from beneath her hair and lost patience at the slightest provocation. Then again, predators sought out the weakest of the herd.

The metaphor coming to mind was a direct result of Franky's instruction and suddenly her interactions from the last few days suddenly made much more sense, "Well then... I'm not sorry after all," she tested, trying not to look as intimidated as she felt from the glower she received. Taking criticism was a good skill to learn. Yeva looked up at the shadow that fell across the table as the orc followed Franky's request, trying to figure out if the water was supposed to be for both of them. She watched him leave to fulfill the request, sipping her tea delicately.

"You... You wouldn't happen to know anyone else who likes to play, would you?" she nodded almost imperceptibly towards the deck of cards, "On one hand, it is nice to be the only... um...." she tried to think of a code word for her practice, "Croupier in town," Yeva took another drink until her tongue was no doubt burned by the tea, but when she looked at the remaining contents, she seemed pleased. Only a small amount remained, perhaps a modest sip or two. Taking the handle in her left hand, she tilted the rim in a circular motion three times and used the saucer on the table to turn the teacup upside down.

"It's just a bit of a shame. Feels unlikely, " She thought of his earlier words... Humans would get fat, not them, "-and rather unfortunate," she added, "Willful ignorance is so much worse than gluttony... Speaking of, do you sell food at your establishment? I could recommend it to those I pass when I go out to run my errands today. I still have a few places to visit this morning."

She looked down, noticing the laces of her shoes and her torso disappeared beneath the table, hands deftly contorting the ragged strings into neat bows, "I need to find a hardware store... and maybe an herbalist if there's one nearby."