Mul Gathering

It is midday and, given the heat, sun, and lack of currently-scheduled spectacles, the grounds are reasonably empty. Some loose at the archery targets at the far edge, and others pass through or perhaps hone their riding, but the more exertive melee and jousting grounds are all but barren... save for one conspicuous trainee.

Across the border between the two types of practice aids stands a moderate pole awning to provide shade and shadow against the glaring sun. Judging by marks on the grounds, it was dragged from over the jousting officiator's chair. In, across, and in the vicinity of the polygonal shadow, Aya darts. A strike to a swords-dummy, followed by a leap at the jousting target, only to spring back (and away from the swinging counterweight) for the original ground target. From the state of her attire, and perspiration, she may have been doing such for some time.

The heat was brutal, doubly so with the sun. Hence, there was a lot of complaining when dropping off a package in upper Alexandria, doubly so when they had to go through the open grounds some time ago. Empty handed now, Aryia is walking back through, southbound with a pair of tinted spectacles on her face and a large straw hat pushed firmly down on her head, two holes cut out of the sides so it'd fit her ears.

She didn't spot Aya at first, it was a leap through the air that caught her attention. She stops, blinks a few times behind her glasses, and slowly approaches. Mostly observing (and scratching her head in confusion).

Striding along through the practice stands, eyes narrowed by the light of the sun; strikes a conspicuous shadow. Long away from Alexandria, this tall Mul'niessa is not a familiar sight. His burning red eyes taking in the sight of those that are deep in their practice of various forms. It is however Aya whom has his attention mostly. By the time he has nearly reached her there is a soft smile of appreciation on his lips, and he stands somewhat off to the side so that he does not interrupt her training.

Which is approximately the point at which he notices Aryia. He nods very politely to her, his head dipping but his red eyes staying on her. His liquid grace betrays that he is at least in part a warrior. His clothing however suggests a more... noble designation. Certainly he doesn't look very much like he is out to practice fighting today.

Aya was not expecting an audience, though onlookers are not entirely unexpected, either. Of all things, it is the large straw hat the catches her notice enough to hold it, especially with the contrast of dark earpoints through it. Following her landing on the ground and a followup-strike or two at the wooden foe, she turns towards Aryia. This also brings the other (other) mul'niessa into her field of view. One brow arches, then the other. Her eyes shift between the two for a moment before realization dawns; one she can blame upon the hat, the other due to time.

"Good day to you both," she greets, "in as much as a day such as this can be pleasant."

Aryia takes note of the tall Mul'neissa, shades shifting to look at the man. Her head cants one way, watching and assessing before giving a slow, cautious nod. Attire wise, she was opposite of him. Simple long sleeves, pants, boots, worker's clothes with equally rugged hands. Most glaring feature was that of a jagged, old scar that went from one side of her throat to the other.

She turns her attention back to Aya, a light smile cresting Aryia's lips as she holds a hand up in greeting. Her head tilts back to glare at the sky before nodding in agreement, a sigh following after.

Like Aryia, the tall, and as yet unintroduced Mul'niessa man looks skyward, a rough amusement flickering briefly across his face. "One might enjoy the heat more if it did not come with such bright light." His voice is a melodic tone, deep but like a song. He nods low to Aya in greeting. "It has been a long time Aya, but the pleasure of your presence has not changed."

Red eyes returned to Aryia. "You may call me Daed, if it pleases you. And you are?"

Aya dips her head to Daed in a nod. "It has been, though it's good to know that some things haven't changed. Given the state of events when we last spoke, I presumed that you had wisely travelled elsewhere, or were denied the opportunity to. I'm pleased that it was apparently the former." At the shift to introductions, Aya considers assisting the process, though hesitates. In its stead, she offers Aryia a querying glance and similar gesture.

The hat tilts back to look up at Daed, her raising a hand once more to greet him. She holds up a finger, affording a moment while the two speak to rummage around in a small pack on her side before pulling out a somewhat used journal. They flip to the first few pages, nod to themselves, and hold up the book to them so he could see it.

She taps a finger on a shaky prewritten line of Tradespeak: "My name is Aryia."

Her hand pulls away to gesture to Aya, common ones. "You, him, know before?" <Handspeech>

Daechir looks at the notebook with interest, making a connection once Aryia sets aside her notebook and makes a few expressive hand-signs to Aya. He might not speak the language himself, but he is familiar with it. "A pleasure to meet you as well then Aryia. I have heard of you. For there are not enough Mul'niessa in the city that the arrival of a new one is quiet news."

He looks at Aya, her words stealing the mirth from his lips and he shakes his head. "The plague was not solely held here in Alexandria, for that reason I was forced to return to Charn to deal with some unpleasant familial matters." Daed's lips twist subtly in displeasure. "I am not sure what you heard of me then, or in the meantime of my disappearance." It's almost a question.

Aya nods to Aryia, her lips twisting upward on one side. "Yes, we know one another." The half-smile remains as she turns to Daechir, though flattens somewhat. "I had not heard of you, specifically, but much has happened in Charn as of late. It is turbulent chaos, by all accounts, so your return here is timely."

Aryia's posture straightens up. He's heard of her? That could be for weal or woe, considering her dealings. She rubs her arm and looks between the two, uncertain of whatever the topic about Charn is, but a frown pulls her lips down regardless. "What happen?" the mute mul'neissa gestures, keeping the signs simple and straightforward, only with what she's shown Aya before.

<Handspeech>

"Your words are more than true enough." Daed responds gently. "The matron of my father's house fell to the plague, and... But that is likely of little interest to you." He sighs and waves his hand through the air to dismiss his own words. "If you tell me what you have heard, I may be able to confirm some of it for you."

"As I understand it," Aya explains, for the benefit of both, "there is a new power growing. Rebel, usurper, tyrant... Whatever he would be called, he has been razing through Charn, taking and consolidating power. Those who oppose him are converted or slain, and even the Taarans seem to be falling before him. His goals of power may well extend far beyond that one nation, as well."

A wave of discomfort washes over Aryia, the quiet shadow elf sticking her journal under an arm and fidgeting with her fingers. She had nothing to add, aside from the usual curses and what have you. Besides, overall politics tended to be lost on her. It was all the same.

Daed nods. "That is true from what I have seen. I am glad to have left when I did, for my father is... Fanatical." He shakes his head. "I would not deal with that side of my family at all, but that they are a good source of information." The tall Mul'niessa looks at Aryia and offers her something of an explanation. "I may appear fully Mul'neissa, but in fact I am half-blooded. My mother is Llyranesi."

Aya quirks a brow briefly at that revelation. Had Daed stated that to her before, it's possible that she had forgotten that familial aspect. "I understand. In light of those events, I made some inquiries of my own. I know only that much of my House still exists, and still prospers. Given that they oft support whomever may be in power in order to maintain their own, it is not surprising."

"On more local matters, you should be aware that some threats from the time of the plague have returned. Not the disease, itself, but still a danger. One that is being addressed, yet again, of course." Perhaps not to dwell on such threats for too long, she looks between them. "What brings you both out into the 'glorious' sun today?"

Aryia tilts her head sideways at the explanation. That sheds light on the height for certain. She gives a light nod, relaxing just a hint. 

The question bring Aryia back into the now. Something she could contribute to, rather than the machinations of noble houses she had zero clue about. "Work. Delivery," Aryia gestures, finishing with jabbing a thumb over her shoulder towards the north. "Saw you. Say hello. I return trip yesterday with party. Fight," she shares, hands moving slowly. The deeper meanings and emotions are lost with her keeping the signs purely in their Tradespeak equivalent.

"I came looking for you in the hopes that you might know... well her. I believe." Daechir offers the faintest of smiles, looking from Aya to Aryia. His red eyes are almost unsettling in their color, but they are warm and hold no malice to them. "I had heard that there was a Mul'niessa causing something of a stir among the nobles. Something about statues? I do not know the details, but it had the earmarks of an interesting story."

Aya's half-smile returns at the responses. "I am pleased that you stopped by, Aryia. It seems most fortuitous, as well. Your reputation grows to precede you." To Daed, she adds, "I don't know much of those events, but of course she does. Obviously, you came to the right mul'niessa. " In plural context, even, in this case. She follows-up with an arched brow and inquiry to Aryia. "A trip? A fight? What happened?"

Daed's intent has perhaps a somewhat negative effect, Aryia's visage tightening up and squinting in scrutiny. He was dressed well, and heard of her through nobles. She did not like where the math was equaling out to be. A step is taken towards Aya as she equips her journal once more and scribbles something out. A half minute later, she shows him. 

"I dont know who you are realy. But Aya knows you so I gues youre ok. Nobles buying statues that are ackshully people turned to stone. Guard dont believe us. Nobles not like us for a lot of reasons."

She regards Aya, face shifting from suspicion to a confident smirk. "S-E-L-D-A-N, party. Go town. Empty town. He taken. By fiends. Almost. We kill them," she elaborates, finishing with thumbing her nose. <Handspeech>

The smile slips from Daed's lips at the knowledge that the statues are actually people. He shakes his head and holds his hands up somewhat to show himself unarmed to her. "I mean you no harm Aryia. If you say that the statues are actually people; I believe you. The noble class has done that and worse in the effort to make money or keep it. I knew from the moment I heard the story that there was more to it and that was why I wanted to meet you." He lowers his hands somewhat. "You have no real reason to trust me, and I can appreciate that, but perhaps I can be of some aid to you after all."

At this he meets her eyes. "The nobles of certain houses have been meeting in private of late. Suspiciously so. I know that one such meeting is to take place tonight. If you can get into the meeting... I think you might learn something of value there."

The confident smirk from Aryia provokes one from Aya by autonomic reflex. It is one she knows (and others) well on her own face, but it is somewhat inspiring? comforting? to see it on Aryia's. Yet it evaporates early on in the scarred one's signing. There is a shift in expression in the other direction before it stabilizes at general neutrality. A long moment passes before she finally nods, and the smirk returns. "It's good that you were victorious, and returned, though not so surprising. It's little wonder that Daed had already heard of your exploits, and they're only growing."

On the topic of Daed, she assures while turning her eyes to him, "I would trust his word more than I would not. Even when he comes bearing gifts." Her tone shifts with her quirking smirk to a softer wry; prodding rather than true suspicion. "What are the risks of attending? Do you have a thought as to how she might do so unnoticed?"

Aryia squints up at him, the shades slipping down some to show a sunken, milky gaze wrought with a blanket of general distrust. She slowly nods while Aya vouches for him. She didn't know how to feel about her reputation growing, so she let it be.

"Fine," she motions, a thumb thudding against her sternum. While Aya's questions were more of the hows and whats, Aryia's were more about the:

Scribble. Present.

"When and where?"

The mul'niessa man seems to think for a moment, then pulls a card from his pocket. "I received this... anonymously." He offers the letter to Aryia. "I would go myself, but... I suspect that it is a cult, and I have no desire to become associated with one."

The envelope is stone gray, and inside is a date and time along with a few instructions about wearing a cloak and mask to the event. It... could be a masquerade ball of some kind, but Daed's words do somewhat taint that perspective somewhat.

It seems Daed provides answers to some of the questions, at least, if somewhat indirectly. Still, information is information. "Your time away certainly did not weaken your talents nor contacts any, it would appear," Aya opines to him. "I am impressed." The envelope is Aryia's to deal with as she deems fit; those particular statues (or people) are a matter she's be tending to.

Aryia takes the letter, her squinting through it. She pulls her shades down, reading it closely. The fancy scripture trips her up, her mouthing along each of the words very, very slowly.

Eventually, she gets goes back to the middle of it, and her lips twist to voicelessly ask to herself, "What the fuck's a masqurade?"

"I think it has less to do with my contacts and more to do with my perceived contacts." Daed says quietly. "People do know of my bloodline and think of little besides the Charnese half of it. It could even be that they know I am recently returned from Charn." He gracefully shrugs. Reading lips is something that Daed is far more adept at and he smiles slightly to himself at Aryia's question. "A masquerade is a party where everyone wears masks to hide their identity. Very common in noble circles."

Aya's lips curl further upwards at Daed's comment. "Perception is often more useful than reality. Advantage without the cost." She nods with his answer to Aryia, looking to her as she does so. "Should events occur that are not wholly approved of, the lack of identity makes for ready deniability. In your case, this works greatly to your advantage."

Aryia gives Daed a perplexed look. One that held many questions, particularly those of 'why'. She shakes her head, her mumbling something to herself, moving lips only flashing the words "fucking weird" and "nobles". She sighs and folds the invitation back up, slipping it into her bag. "Thanks," she motions towards Daed, a sign that was common enough to not need a translator. <Handspeech>

She nods at Aya, though she shifts on her feet. Every single time she's gone into the noble district, she's only found individuals that deserve to get their face shoved into the dirt. Like that one place the two mul'neissa recently went to.

Daed nods to Aya and then turns his attention on Aryia, nodding again to her. "Well, I wish you luck in your endeavor, and if there is anything I can do to help in the future just let me know. Particularly given this situation with the statues..." He shakes his head slowly. Clearly the mere thought of people in statues disturbs him.

"Should you discover more of that, or other concerns," Aya returns to Daed, smirk still mild, perhaps even a half-smile, "even those of your own, feel welcome to mention them. Preferably your own, in fact. Offering without some expected compensation or aid in return can look most suspicious."

On the matter of aid, she notes to Aryia. "If you have any questions or need regarding this, I will offer what I can. I'm certain I could have cause to visit the nobles' district on a particular evening." A brow quirks. "Perhaps one of those oruch would wish to further rethink his choices?"

She over to Aya, no longer having to crane her neck back. The idea of having Aya along side her settles the nervous tick of her fingers fidgeting with each other. The memory of the oruch makes her brows pinch in anger. Aryia smiles despite this, a fist smacking into her open palm as she cracks her knuckles. What she would give to beat some sense into that old, misguided man.

"Not at the moment, though I appreciate your concern, and am interested to know what comes of this." Daed motions to where the letter has disappeared. "Aside from that... my concerns are of a more personal nature and thus of little interest. I will take my leave unless either of you have further questions for me?"

Aya expected that her choice of words might grant Aryia both vigor and amusement and is pleased to discover she guessed correctly. Her own expression is now thoroughly a slender smile as it pans back to Daed. "Of course. I understand." She dips in a deep nod to him. "It was good to see you again and I hope you might remain about the city in the future."

Aryia shakes her head. She had no further questions. More on the idea that she was going to have to seek everyone out involved in this and inform them of this event. She slides a palm across one hand, makes her closed palms touch with index extended, and points at the tall half-mul. "Nice to meet you." <Handspeech>

Daed offers a half-bow to both women and then takes his leave with a gentle farewell. He moves gracefully back across the arena, and disappears like a blink of darkness into a shadow.

Aryia blinks as Daed just vanishes. Was that just a mul'neissa thing that she never learned? A lot of thoughts on what to do and how to prepare whirl about her mind, her leaning on a back foot with her arms akimbo, hands on hips. She glances to Aya.

"S-...." she hisses out, tapping her foot. Only to silence herself with a pinched hand tapping her lips. "Food?" <Handspeech>

-End