http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8WgTmon ... re=related

Sarinah thanked the stall vendor, taking her glass of whiskey with a nod. Lifting it to her lips, she drank deeply. The dancer had hoped Tristaan would be here by yesterday night. Her worry was consuming her and she needed tonight to unwind. It was quite a caoja. People were dancing to the fine music filled with fiddles, guitars, flutes, pipes and drums. Pretty festival outfits of varying colors danced before her eyes and lights of all colors made everything surreal. Smells of traditional foods and drinks wafted to her nose as she made her way through the sidelines of the dancers, eyes searching the crowd for the passive. Tito was supposed to be around here as well, but she wasn't sure she wanted to see him. Last time they had a run in, she'd automatically turned into the woman Cook's patrons saw. It disgusted her and she was worried she would do it again.

Over the other side of the party, Calli was dancing. She was still in a slightly bitter mood after the events of the night before. She had started to wonder if she'd come between Dorian and Taegan and she hadn't liked that one bit. She felt conflicted and she wasn't very well equipped to deal with it.

Had a fight started involving anyone she knew, she likely would have joined in and spread some carnage, anything would have been better than being lost in a trail of circular emotion.

Tristaan hadn't slept — really, really slept — in over two days. Returning to Vienda had been admittedly stressful, to say the least. The last boat to Surwood the day before had most likely been just as full as the first, and the excited, anxious crowds had only made quiet, effective rest rather impossible. As if to further aggravate the listlessness of traveling, the deep, persistent pain of a broken limb and inconvenient discomfort of a few stitches ruined even the most peaceful moments the passive had managed to find.

Still.

Perhaps a little more than worn thin from his most recent adventures, there was something to be said about the uplifting atmosphere of an island brim full of party-minded wicks, especially when combined with the more happy anxiety of a particularly long-awaited reunion with a particularly lovely witch.

Sarinah.

The passive had found the familiar Balder and his Circus without much effort, only to find (much to his disappointment) that even Calli was absent. All his potential references to begin his search with were apparently elsewhere, enjoying themselves, as they should be.

Though grateful for the temporary place to store his belongings, Tristaan was only slightly overwhelmed at the thought of having to find anyone he knew in a place so crowded and busy, especially after more time than he had ever intended had somehow slipped between them. With a sort of furtive impatience, the passive at least took some time to attempt at making himself presentable in the hopes his searching would be successful sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, no amount of careful, painful cleanliness could quite disguise the sleepless and haggard overtones that had crept into his features.

Despite all of this, it was hard not to smile at the anticipation of time spent waiting finally rewarded.

Soon.

For lack of a better direction, Tristaan followed the crowd in the direction of the music and the dancing, careful to keep his splinted and bound broken right arm safely from stray impact in the throng, hoping to catch sight of at least one familiar face, if not the only one he was really looking for.


((Oh har, this has been a long time in coming, I must admit. There is plenty of room for lots of in between, suspenseful posting. Also, if only to reveal that my musical tastes are strangely varied: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtBD750Fsz4))

Tito was enjoying himself immensely, to say the least. Knocking back a final drink, he waved goodbye to a group of friends and bid his farewell.

The dancing was contagious and the wick found himself joining several groups for a few fleeting steps as he meandered among the stalls. It was during one particularly frenzied turn that he tripped over a stray root and spun into another reveler, knocking both over in the process. Regaining his balance just in time, he not only caught himself but also the woman.

Blushing slightly, Tito apologized profusely, "Oh, I'm so sorry miss... Sarinah!" With a nervous laugh, Tito removed his hand from Sarinah's breasts and backed off a step. "Eh... heh. Excuse me..." His eyes shifted and he coughed as he brushed himself off.

"So... enjoying yourself?

The wind was nearly knocked out of the black haired witch as some oaf smacked right into her. She managed to spill out the contents of her whiskey as they stumbled and the man finally righted them.



Sarinah had to resist the overwhelming urge to shove Tito and draw a sai. It had been the way grabby patrons at Cook's had been treated and it seemed Cook's girl was always just under the surface. Removing her hand from the back of her skirt, she sighed.

"Well...mostly. I wasn't really into that whole 'trip-into-the-pretty-lady-just-to-cop-a-feel trick though." She allowed a sly smile to reach her red lips and winked. Taking her eyes from the purple haired man, she looked around again, hoping to see a familiar rugged face. Turning back to Tito, she smiled slightly again.

"Must admit, all the happy couples are making me a little more depressed than I would like. Not at all the way I want tonight to be." Trying to shake off her somber mood, she crossed her arms and looked at him.

"What about you kov, enjoying the night?"

Annie sat at a table to the side of the dancing, toying with the edge of her still very red dress, watching the crowd. She'd hoped she'd see another person or two she knew, but thus far she'd only seen a large amount of sloppily drunken revelers and a few flailing dancers. Well, no, I did see Callie, but she was so busy wavin' her arms all whicha direction it seemed safer to sit down. An' she didn't seem to be greatly happy, either.

A purple haired wick stumbled and fell into a beautiful witch, and Annie laughed. It took her a few moments to realize she might actually recognise the clumsy offender. Is that...?

"Tito! I never took ye t'be much of a dancer! Looks to be my assumptions were correct," she called across the dance floor, hopefully loud enough over the music that he heard her. Getting up, she made her way through the jostling wickfolk towards Tito and the beauty.

"Hope the Purple Wonder didn' do ye no harm, miss. He's mostly clumsy," the reporter grinned. "Been a while, friend? How fares it?"





*(Now might be a good time to mention that Annie still doesn't know about Vienda being anti-wick. Just throwing that out there.)*

With a slightly terrified expression, Tito sputtered, "Um, erm, eh... No, really, that' wasn't my intent! There was this root and I..."
The wick sighed and gave a weak smile. Sarinah hadn't looked too happy, and she had nearly scared the life from him.
Tito frowned, that had to meen her benny boy, Trist, wasn't back yet. That couldn't be good, the woman had said he would be here sooner. That could mean a myriad of things. He might not come at all, or he could be... dead.
"Up until running into you, I was having quite a night. But I can't just head off back to merriment and drinking to leave you in the pits of despair! C'mon, luv, is there anythin' I c'n do to help?" Tito smiled pleasently, coming off more like a friend instead of a voracious flirt. "There's a fine cart over yonder with the most amazing guitari--"Tito cocked his head and turned to see just who was insulting his footwork. It was not often that he let such a blow to his ego pass without incident, but quick enough he saw just who it was. "Anneh!" Lunging for the reporting, the wick enveloped her in a quick hug and drug her over to Sarinah.

"Sarinah, this be a good friend of mine, the incomparable Annie November, reporter extraordinaire!" The wick's shoulders slumped and he smacked his forehead. "Thanks Annie... thanks alot..."
"Ah, you know me! Go with the flow, I'm doin just fine. The clock-heads up top couldn't have picked a better time to boot us out of Vienda, what with the festival and all!" Glancing at the beautiful miss Sarinah, Tito leaned into Annie and spoke in hushed tones, "Her lover's gone missing and she needs a bit o' cheerin up... You game?"

Sarinah thought of something that could help, but she feared the more alcohol she drank, the worse she might fall into the depression she was facing. It happened before, when her heart had been broken. Maybe thats why she was so worried. Deep inside, she feared that just like Rovin, perhaps Tristaan had gone for good. It was a stupid thought, of course he wasn't. But what if? What if he'd been hurt and was laying in an alley somewhere, bleeding his life away, alone. Swallowing the fear, she turned at the sound of a voice. Before she could make heads of the comment, Tito was launching himself at a woman in a red dress.



Sarinah rested her hands on cocked hips, smiling at the exchange.



The dancer giggled and shook her head.

"Ne, he managed to avoid breaking anything." She watched Tito glance at her as he spoke about being kicked from Vienda and shook her head.

"Oes, wicks ent invited there anymore. Silly rule, but I ent too upset about it." Her chocolate eyes wandered the heads again, looking for Tristaan without realizing she was doing it, again. Briefly, she thought she saw a familiar blonde head, but it was lost in the crowd.

Calli bounced along to the music, not really feeling it. She looked around, wondering if anyone she knew was about. Tristaan walked past her, looking a little worse for wear.

"Tristaan!" She shouted, surprised, earning an annoyed look from a girl dancing near her. "Tristaan, you're back!"

She ducked through the crowd and drew up level with him.

"Woah, what happened to your arm?" She said, sounding appalled.

The crowd was all beginning to really look the same, and the passive was beginning to wonder if everyone he knew had decided to go to some other caoja on the other side of the island, far away from where he was. His self-doubt was only compounded by bleary tiredness fraying at the edges of everything.


He might have heard his name. It might have been Calli. He stopped and was about to look around when there she was—


"Well, junta yourself!" Tristaan grinned past his exhaustion, a sort of stupid, happy relief washing over his travel-worn features. He chose to ignore the comment about his arm, as well as the fiery discomfort of direct pressure, and hugged the young witch warmly. He spoke through grit teeth before letting Calli go, careful about a few stray stitches, "It's about time I ran into someone I know."

"And, it's broken." He looked down, then back up at the witch, wiggling a few swollen fingers. It was obvious by the look in his gray eyes he had no desire to talk about it, for he was still eagerly grinning, "Are you th'only one here?"

His implication was unhidden. He was too tired to pretend he didn't mean anyone else other than Sarinah.

The dancer thought she heard someone calling out, and the name was incredibly familiar. She froze, looking around. But there was no one. Damn these crowds. Sighing, she looked back at Tito and Annie, considering just finding somewhere to curl up and sleep the rest of the night away. He wasn't here, and she was now hearing things.

Calli hugged Tristaan back, though gently.

"Yeah, it gets a bit hectic, ne?" She said, still looking a little lost in her thoughts. "Missed you."



Calli frowned and shook her head.

"I dunno, I think she said she was going to be here but I could have heard wrong. Let me check." Calli stepped up onto a nearby table, ignoring the people that were already sitting there. "HEY SARINAAAAH!!!"

Calli whistled, using two fingers, and a glass broke. Calli then settled back on her heels and waited boredly for a response, arms crossed. She looked down at Tristaan.

"Oh yes, I think I snagged a boyfriend." She said conversationally.

Tristaan ran his good hand over his face as Calli shouted embarrassingly loud above the din of the music and the crowd. He now looked quite sheepish on top of his tiredness, peeking at the young witch between calloused fingers, eyes widening apologetically at the poor folks on the table she commandeered for communications purposes.

The passive slid his hand away at the mention of 'boyfriend,' brushing some dark hair from his face that had fallen from behind his ears. He was only slightly impatient to see the results of the young witch's loud search methods, but decided to play along as he waited, "Y'don't say ...?"

He let his hand linger near his face, stroking his chin in teasing thoughtfulness, "Oh, Calli, it'd better not be Taegan. I'll have t'have a talk with you'r'him if it is. He's just not ... th'smart choice, ye chen?"

Calli gifted Tristaan with a disgusted look, still standing on the table.

"Gods, Tristaan, I'm not stupid." She said, as though this were obvious or even true. "He's a complete asshole and the next time I see him I'm going to clock him up. He hit Dorian!"

A man coughed and tugged on her boot.

"Can't you see I'm busy here?" Calli said, still residually annoyed enough not to care how bloody rude she was being. "Sarinah! Your kov's here!"

Once she'd regained her balance and composure after Tito's lunging attack, Annie took a small flourished bow. "At yer service, miss. 'Tis a pleasure to be makin' yer aquiantance." Hot dang, Tito sure can pick a looker!

Annie looked open mouthed from Sarinah to Tito and back again. "Hang on a tick, start that thought again? Wick's ain't what? Vienda who? They did what now?" She shook her head in confused surprise. "Sorry, maybe I didn' hear ye right. Ye're sayin' the wicks ain't welcome in Vienda no more? When did that happen?!"

Annie's head turned in the direction of the shouted greeting to see a familiar blonde standing on what she could only guess was either a table or a small child. "Hey, look, I know her. That's Callie."

((Stay awake a few more ... 72 hours of non-sleeping means you're considered clinically insane, if I remember correctly.))

Tristaan smiled, still chagrined by the young witch's antics, still tired beyond belief, and yet still rather excited at the same time. It was good to know Calli had a decent head on her shoulders, and by the expression on her face, it was obvious.

"Dorian, eh? Good on you, beata." He beamed, all be it haggardly.

The passive tried to pretend he wasn't partial to other folk who appreciated the finer details of sharp objects, but it was hard not to let it show in his smile, "He's benny. An' Taegan got jealous, oes? I'm not surprised."

He might have been rambling in his semi-helpless state of impatience, good hand wandering listlessly from his face to the knot at his shoulder that held his sling in place, adjusting the open collar of his shirt. He wasn't sure what to do but stand there, glancing around the crowd, hopeful, before giving the poor wicks at the table another sympathetic glance.

Tristaan eyed their drinks, but realized he'd just be asleep if he found his own.

The dancer wasn't hearing things now. That was definitly someone calling her name. Standing on her toes, she looked around. There was a blonde standing on a table across the other side of the crowd. It was Calli. Sarinah raised her arm and waved.

"Calli! Calli! I'm here!"



The words were like a dream. He was here? He was finally here?

"Excuse me!" She half said to Annie and Tito, trying to make her way through the crowds. It was hard going, people were dancing and pressed together. Sliding between a few, ducking under the arm of those ones, she took a moment to look around. It still seemed like Calli was a lifetime away.

"Vrunta!" The brunette said forcefully, giving up on being polite. She shoved her way through until people started moving away as she approached.

It was like magic. The people parted and there he was. The ability to walk seemed to leave her for a moment, and she froze, staring at him. Drinking in the vision of him. He really came back. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she realized his arm was hurt. He'd been hurt!

"Tristaan." She said quietly, almost to herself, beginning her walk again, eyes locked on him.

Hal walked into the ring of celebration, for once drawn by the sounds instead of fleeing from them. He walked among the others as if in a haze. It was a state he'd been in since sunrise. It was... calm. He wasn't twitching. He climbed up the side of a kint and sat on the bench up front, watching the crowd. He wasn't compelled to dance, but he was watching the celebration appreciatively. He could see people he knew, but was satisfied just to watch for a time.

The passive's grin shifted from something anxious to something beaming and relieved. He slapped his good hand on the tabletop near Calli's feet with a genuinely happy laugh as he saw the dancer pause and stare. Stepping away from the table with the immediate intention of meeting Sarinah in the middle, days of sleepless traveling seemed to melt from his features and his gray eyes sparkled a bit in expectation.


"Hey, Sarinah," He returned quietly, ignoring the aching protest of broken bones and stretched stitches to reach for the witch mid-step with his good arm, catching her waist and pulling her towards him, "Ent you a lovely sight for sore eyes like these."

He winked, chuckling despite the wave of pain as he pressed forward against her to kiss her warmly and properly, accounting with a few spare moments for the over-length of his absence.

Tristaan sighed, pretending not to be exhausted and hurting simply because he was terribly happy, "Sorry t'have kept you waitin' ..."

The dancer grinned as he came to her, sudden elation overcoming her worries, fears and days of pining.



She giggled almost girlishly, reaching up to rest a hand on his cheek, almost sure this must be false. A dream. But the roughness of his stubble and the warmth in his touch was as real as ever. As he kissed her, she felt her heart sing, closing her eyes to everything else and just living in that moment.



The dancer suddenly laughed, then cried, then laughed again. She slapped him gently on the good arm.

"Don't do it again, ye chen?" Pulling away slightly, she dabbed her eyes with a knuckle, then looked pointedly at his broken arm.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you go with that laoso mung doctor!" For a moment, her brown eyes flared in anger, but then she was too happy he was even here to hold onto the bitter feeling. Touching the sling gently, she bit her lip.

"Do you need a healer? I think you need a healer. Calli!" She called out to the blonde wick, finally remembering Tristaan wasn't the only one there.

Tristaan might have wavered a little, struggling not to use his hold on the witch to steady himself. His eyes might have been moist, but even in his excitement, they were tired. There was this layer of worn sleeplessness, like a blanket, but his smile was still bright.


The passive mostly pretended to wince, mocking a scoff, but his face fell slightly. There was obviously quite a bit under the surface that her words might have stirred from where he'd just been and what he'd just gone through. He paused without responding as if to tuck them all back away.

Not now. Not for quite some time.

His smile softened, or maybe faltered, and he offered quietly, simply, "Ne, I won't. I promise."


"Oh, it ent so bad. It can wait." He might have lied a little, but he wasn't necessarily in the mood for the pain he knew magical healing and resetting would bring.

He chuckled, hand lingering to make sure Sarinah stayed close, "Right now, I think I could go for too much t'drink an' a long nap. Mostly in that order. I think ... With a bit of time t'spare in between."

The dancer looked at him closely, seeing the tiredness and pain in his eyes. Nodding, she moved slightly, supporting the passive instead of clinging to him. She moved him to the nearest chair, being that of the table Calli stood on, patrons since giving up trying to move her and leaving for better pastures. Letting go as he sat down, she smiled softly.

"Drink, I can do. Sleep, well...we might need to talk about that. I've been sleeping under the stars so to speak. Ent had anywhere else to really go." Clearing her throat, she turned before he could reply, finding the nearest drink vendor.

Calli was now sitting at the table she had previously been standing on. She alternately sighing and glaring at the rough-hewn wood.

"Hesta." She said, almost petulantly, raising a hand in greeting and dropping it again. "Hey, Sarinah, would you mind getting me a juice?"

She dropped both her arms onto the table and leaned against them, obviously consumed in her own thoughts and little else.

"Sleepin' under th—"

Tristaan frowned confusedly, watching Sarinah wander off. He stared after her, unable to hide a smile as he did so, though he was admittedly confused. He leaned against the table on his good arm and tilted his head at Calli, "D'you know what that means? Ent'er folks here?"

He traced the wood grain with his fingertips and yawned, realizing Calli had not excitedly launched herself from the table and onto her next adventure even after so graciously coming to his aid. The passive watched her facial expressions briefly, then patted her closest arm before struggling to sit up a little, "What's th'long face for, beata? I thought ... you were excited ... just before."

Calli shifted slightly away from Tristaan's friendly pat. Her mouth was downturned, almost comically displeased. She looked prickly.

"There's nothing wrong with my face..." She whined, curling in on herself a little. "I just had a bad day, that's all. It's not like it's a big deal or anything."

It was quite clearly a very big deal. She was just angsting too much to admit it. She looked much the way she had when she'd been small and upset. She looked like she wanted to start some trouble just so she'd have something else to think about.