While listening, Tristaan couldn't help but wonder what in the world this woman did for a living to be offering Calli such training. The passive managed to keep an amused look on his face, looking between the two women as if privy to the kind of conversation most of his gender were not.


Tristaan was totally not expecting such a reaction from the young witch. With a start, he looked up, trying not to laugh, then looked at Sarinah with a shrug, "That must be good wine. I should've ordered some myself." Glancing upward again, he tried to think of something to say to Calli without sounding ridiculous, but only managed to stare in confusion.

Sarinah hadn't laughed this much in quite a long time. She grinned up at the young witch and shook her head. Obviously alcohol was a bad idea with this one.



The dancer winked, turned to Ginny and pointed to the bottle.

"Two more glasses rosh, decent glasses, and just leave the bottle." She put two shills on the table and took the glasses, pouring a serve of the matured beverage for herself and Tristaan. Handing one to the man, she raised hers in a little 'cheers'.

"Here's to the innocence of youth. As long as ye don't leave me for the rafters kov." She smiled and took a big mouthful of the red liquid. Swirling the wine and looking at him, with intermittent glances at the girl near the roof, she raised an eyebrow.

"So, Tristaan, who are these boys that have your friend in such a tizzy? I hope a kov like you is keeping an eye on them."

Ginny, wide-eyed and wondering at the wicks' behavior, fetched two more glasses and the bottle.

Suppose they're already guttered from some other bar, she thought, unaware that wine had any alcoholic content; by her standards, it was no more than bitter juice.

Deep inside, Calli could recognise that the small amount of alcohol she had consumed was making her agro. Unfortunately that remaining spark of sensible thought was being squashed under her desire to do one of two things.

1. Cut up a rug and shake it until her limbs fell off.

2. Kick somebody in the face.

She looked around for the singer that had disappeared a while ago. She climbed down the support struts keeping up the roof, hanging by her arms and swinging to the next lowest one. Soon she was on the ground again and stalking about.

"Where's the music?" She called out, voice sounding older and less jovial than usual, as though she'd pulled out some of her usual safety stops.

The passive accepted the wine gratefully. It was about time for a drink. With a nod, he returned her cheers, casting one more glance upward before taking a long, satisfying drink from his glass. Gods, I don't think I've missed this place at all.


Tristaan smirked, "Last time I checked, I ent got the vroo to fly like that one." He chuckled, shaking his head, "An' I have no interest in trying it."


Taking the liberty to refill his glass, he offered to pour Sarinah more as he answered, "They're circus boys. One tames chroven and the other swallows swords. Fascinating talents, I suppose, if'n performing is your thing."

He smiled, raising an eyebrow, "Aye, I did come back here to Vienda with 'em ... mostly to keep an eye on the lass, as well as to get out of Old Rose for a while. The boys, well, they're benny enough for young kovs, an' I think Calli can handle herself ... perhaps better when she's not drinking."

Sarinah accepted the refill and cocked her head, a sultry smile on her lips.



"Oh really? They sound benny. I'm a performer, and I find those sorts of acts amazing. I'd never bother with a chrove tamer though, met one once, old kov. They are too in love with their animals." She drank deeply of the wine, already starting to feel slightly fuzzy. It was definitely a good bottle.

"The rosh, she doesn't drink a lot does she?" It was a statement not a question. Turning to face the now grounded Calli, she called out.

"I agree! Lets hear some music in here! I ent built for sitting. Calli, do you dance?"

((It occurs to me now that I actually deleted the sentence in her bio about how drinking makes her angry so she avoids it. Oops.))



Calli smiled manically, brown eyes shining madly.

"Why, yes I do!" She said throwing her hands in the air.

She thrust one down on an empty chair, pushing herself up into the air and spinning across a table that was cleaner than most. She knocked her heels against the wood, hands in the air, making a steady violent rhythm.

"Music!" She cried. "People should be dancing!"

The strum of a chord would announce his arrival, quickly followed by another of the minor variety.

However, a quick tune soon picked up, the kind that puts a fire in your feet and a smile on your face--and for this guttered group that probably wouldn't be all that great of a feat.

Tito was dressed in more casual attire: his patchwork shirt, leather pants, and his usual wide-brimmed fedora--all black, of course. A grin played across his face as he hid his eyes with the brim of his fedora. Gracefully, he walked down the stairs while playing, like some dark angel from the heavens that had heard their plea for music. Or a convenient plot device.

(( This song but at 1.5x speed. Don't ask me how he's playing two parts at once... Tito's just that good <___<;;; ))

((beautiful perfect song! tito is JUST THAT GOOD! GO TITO!))



The dancer grinned. She loved a good shin-dig.



She knew the rhythm Calli rapped on the wood, it was a traditional wick dance full of its own beat and flavor. Standing, she began to clap her hands in a quick four beat rhythm, complementing Calli's own beat.



Sarinah turned to the sound, whooping when she saw the wick coming down the stairs playing a familiar tune. She clapped her way around Calli's makeshift stage, spinning so her skirt flared out widely, hair dancing around her face. Taking her cue, she stepped up onto a table of her own and grabbed her skirt with both hands. Matching Calli's tapping with her own jingling anklets, she danced the wick flamenco, flapping her skirt in time to the off beat.



"Junta benny kov! Just what we needed! Ha!" She said loudly, before concentrating on her dancing, lost in the beautiful music and rhythmic dance. Looking up, she grinned at Calli. It had been years since she had danced like this. Free, wick dancing like it used to be. Looking down at Tristaan, she flared her skirt once, then rested her fists on her hips with the skirt bunched into them, still tapping. It was almost a waiting sort of pose, an invitation to join the dance.

((Kick. Ass.))



Calli danced like madness, the flamenco music driving her on. She judged the music to be good, more than good. It was like primordial sound, the song that gave life and spirit at the beginning of all things.

There was nothing else. It was all that mattered.

Tristaan laughed. Had anyone ever asked, he would quite willingly admit to a handful of things from traveling with wicks that he missed – their love of freedom, sense of family, good music, and pretty roshes. So far, he hadn't had to answer that question, but at least he was prepared. With a smile, the passive finished his wine, replaced his hat, and stood in an impressively fluid motion. While his face was warm, the wine had done an excellent job of loosening tired joints and assuaging old wounds.

Tristaan's personal theory was that hand-to-hand, swordplay, and dancing had plenty of things in common, all of which happened to overlap, and most of which he was good at. Given his feelings about Vienda in general, an invitation to dance was quite welcome, even if he was forced to admit it had been a while.

The passive smiled wanly, pausing to unbutton the collar and a few buttons of his wide-sleeved linen shirt to allow for a bit more freedom of movement, "Well, someone will have t'remind me how this all works. It's been a maw or two ..."

Sarinah grinned and stepped down off the table to stand in front of the passive. She'd noticed he had no field radiating from him, but he felt wick to her, and that was enough. Letting her skirt go, she clapped to the rhythm, hands by her head, feet moving to the flamenco. She danced a tight circle around the man, then faced the front of him again. Reaching out, she took his hands and pulled gently, her hips were swaying in a figure eight as her feet stepped. She was changing the dance slightly, it was becoming more of an exotic flamenco. The wine combined with her years in Cook's and the sweet feeling of not thinking about Rovin for just a little while were bringing out the woman she'd been suppressing for weeks.

In the basement, Jake buried his head into his pile of hay in a desperate attempt to drown out the music and banging coming from the floor above.

Moony, knackered, clocking... he thought to himself, continuing on to think of every curse and slang word he could possibly think of to accurately convey his feelings at the moment

Tristaan smiled bemusedly, tapping a foot in time, and briefly glanced to the busy Tito, "Mujo ma! I had no idea I was in need of a musical interlude until you came downstairs." He really hadn't. While he had desperately wanted to spend some time away from Old Rose, he never would've decided to return to Vienda if it hadn't been for running into Calli. He had been so long far from this place; and while he was no longer the bruised, underfed, overworked teenager in the Soot District, he sometimes wondered how much had really changed. This place was heavy with memories, but now was obviously not the time to dwell on them.

He chuckled, turning his focus back to Sarinah, clapping his hands and allowing his eyes to casually roam her figure as she danced around him. Slightly emboldened by the wine and the atmosphere, it was really impossible not to, he decided.


The passive inhaled sharply when the woman took his hands, as if it was unexpected or he was at least somehow unprepared. His smile flickered, his shoulders stiffened, and he cast a strangely nervous glance around the room. It was odd and almost defensive, but then he sighed deeply.

Exhaling slowly, his smile returned, his gray eyes twinkled, and his whole body seemed to relax as he gave into Sarinah's gentle pull and fell into step with her, quickly revealing he knew exactly what he was doing when it came to dancing despite his apparent initial hesitance.


The give and take of dancing with someone else was not so different from an evenly matched bout of swordplay, but sometimes it was unclear as to which was ultimately more dangerous. Tristaan enjoyed both and was not usually one to be concerned for his personal safety. He had the scars to prove it, unfortunately.

With a broadening smile, the passive decided he had gotten enough of the hang of things to slip one hand free from Sarinah's, raising it to remove his hat and set it on the closest table. He had noticed wordlessly the subtle changes of the woman's dancing, and he would normally be much more reserved and shy if it weren't for the wine and the music and the atmosphere of personal nostalgia.

Instead of returning his hand to hers, the man simply placed it on her waist, pulling her playfully closer to him, softly speaking with obvious enjoyment, "Oes, I think I remember how this works now ..."

((oh em gee. where did this come from? i suppose i could blame it on another terribly slow day at work, right? or something. hahahaha ... ))

Sarinah noticed the man stiffen, and for a moment she wondered if she had done something wrong.



Her smile broadened and she raised her eyebrow in slight surprise. A man who can truly dance, she hadn't met one of those in a long time. Well...Rovin might have been able to dance, but they had never really danced danced. It was more....she shook the thoughts aside gruffly.



Her sultry smile became more of a sly grin as he removed his hat, enjoying seeing the man properly for the first time. She had to admit, he was quite a handsome devil under that thing.



The dancer placed a hand on his shoulder and chuckled, slightly giddy with wine and sheer enjoyment. It felt wrong to do this, but at the same, very very right. If Rovin wasn't around, what could she do? Did he expect her to wait forever broken hearted. No sir-ry!

Taking his lead, she turned and leaned her back against him, placing his other hand on her other hip. Sliding her arm up around the back of his neck and placing the other on one of his hands, she rolled her hips in time to the music, becoming less and less of a flamenco and more of a dance the wicks performed when the alcohol was running freely and the night was late.

Tristaan was suddenly completely convinced the entire tavern could hear his heart pound in his chest with a confusing mixture of pleasant surprise, physical excitement, and a twinge of embarrassment. In a moment of selfish, unabashed indulgence, he closed his eyes, tilted his head forward with a rather sheepish smile, and breathed unevenly against Sarinah's neck, enjoying the music and their closeness.

Reality's patience was short-lived, however, and the normally reserved passive was increasingly aware that he was probably making a scene in a public, if not slightly crowded, place. While he may not have felt any more comfortable in an all-wick, less city-folk sort of crowd (because he was unsure if he could ever feel completely comfortable anywhere), he at least would have felt like this sort of dancing was more ... normal. Not that it was bad, or offensive, so much as the kinds of feelings Sarinah's well-practiced attentions aroused were ones that Tristaan preferred not to experience in a tavern full of patrons in various degrees of sobriety looking on.

Opening his eyes and willing them to focus, the passive carefully shifted his weight behind the witch, whispering with a bit of distracted difficulty, his lips brushing her ear, "Don'take this the wrong way ..." A bit of warmth rose to his face, "I just –" He sighed, sliding his hands from their places but keeping them on her person, moving them into a better position to pick her up, rather effortlessly, from behind, her arm still conveniently behind his neck, "I just think I need to sit down." He lied a little, his voice wavering, sliding a chair with his foot from the empty table where he had previously set his hat and unceremoniously falling into it. Sarinah ended up conveniently on his lap.

Tristaan breathed a bit, pretending to watch Calli or study the crowd, hoping his heart wouldn't beat out of his chest in the meantime. Not making any particular motions to let the woman go, he let an embarrassed smile creep across his face, "I said it's been a maw or two ... but I see now you're not th'type to take it easy onna kov."

Closing her eyes, the black haired wick took the moment for what it was and relished in the feeling of being close to someone. It was nice.



The partially drunk woman opened her mouth to protest when he lifted her up, but kept silent as he sat her down. She lowered her arm and harrumphed slightly, her foggy brain unsure of what just happened.



Finally, the whole thing clicked. Sarinah smiled and made a slight giggle. She leaned back against him, hands resting in her lap, watching the rest of the room.

"I'm sorry balach. I have to admit, that wine went straight to my head. I dance at Cooks...Mulms...whatever we call the clocking place now. Vrunta! Sometimes its hard to remember not every man I come across wants to dance like that." She sighed, her eyes becoming distant.

"Your a good man, Tristaan. My heart is heavy, but just for a little while ye and Calli made me remember what its like to be happy again." Her bottom lip trembled slightly and she felt tears threatening. Taking a deep breath, she laughed softly and sat up, turning so she was sideways on his lap.

"I'm really sorry." She said quietly, looking at her hands. When would she ever be normal again. When would he be back. It had been a week and not even a sign. Part of her heart wondered if he was hurt somewhere, needing help. But surely Wraith would come to her if that was the case. No, she knew, deep down that he was never going to be the one she would settle down with. A drifter to the core.

Tito slowed his pace and subtly changed the tune. Suddenly, the song was more chord strums and less plucking as he switched from an instrumental to an accompaniment.

"I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions had an echo
In so much space"

Giving his fingers a rest, he casually strummed and let his voice carry the music. The colorful melody he wove with his vocal chords creating a vibrant tapestry through the air.

"And when you're out there
Without care,
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much

Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
Probably

And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice"

As he warbled expertly, he quickly burst out with a stream of chords, bringing new life and edge to his song. Letting a touch of roughness creep into his voice, he looked out to his listeners.

Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,
Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control

Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me"

Suddenly, he lowered his voice and looked out to the crowd, a strange passion filling his voice as he allowed the song to bring back memories.

"My heroes had the heart to Lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done

Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Possibly"

His voice held the last note long after the vibrating strings of his guitar died. For a moment there was nothing but silence. Dusting himself off, he shouldered the guitar and cracked his neck. Casually, he walked over to the bar and coughed. "Could I get a blushing hingle?"

(( imagine this but at... about .75 speed ))

Calli was beside him at the bar as quick as breathing.

"Know any duets?" She said, smile electric enough to set off sparks.

She was sitting cross legged on the stool nearest to him.

The name of the place was foggy in his mind, but not unfamiliar. The passive's eyes softened at the mention of her employment, not in pity, but in gentle understanding. Folks didn't always end up where they deserved. He smiled a little, almost slyly, but looked away as he replied with a chuckle, "There's nothing t'apologize for ..." He meant it; he certainly couldn't complain. It was a rare thing indeed for him to find himself the object of such attentions.

Leaning back a little, Tristaan threw one arm casually over the back of the chair they shared, his other hand brushing his face as his smile widened, "It wasn't th'dancing ... so much as the setting. I s'pose y'could say I ent the most public of kovs when it comes down t'things ... especially here. Vienda holds a lot of ..." His smile faded a little as he tried to think of the words, "Let's jus'say that I've been away a long time an'on purpose." The passive hadn't really meant to talk about himself, it just came out.


The man frowned at Sarinah's suddenly obvious sadness. It wasn't everyday he had beautiful women break down into tears on his lap – okay, it had never happened before – and so the passive was careful to keep his surprise to himself. Tristaan studied the woman's face without speaking right away, gently placing his free hand over both of hers as it left his face, "No more apologizin't'me, rosh. I'm the stranger here, an' I know that whatever's got your lovely self all weighed down ent none o'my business."

He sighed, looking past her and speaking softly, "We all carry burdens from time't'time, be they like old scars or fresh wounds. It's nothin' t'be sorry for. An'Alioe knows, all things heal with time. Y'just have to be willing to give it."


Tristaan gave Sarinah's hands an encouraging squeeze, content to sit quietly and listen to the change in music, enjoying the company.

Sarinah smiled gratefully, thankful he wasn't offended.



She looked around the bar. It was rather public, she didn't notice things like that, public and private were a lot different to her than other people. It took a lot to be a private situation. She heard a change in his voice as he spoke about Vienda and searched his face. Obviously she wasn't the only one which Vienda had affected poorly.



His words brought a lump to her throat, she hated the sad drunk she'd become, sitting on a man's lap she barely knew, crying over a man she couldn't find. It was borderline pathetic. Where was that strong woman she once was. Confident, sultry, mostly happy. Damn the affairs of the heart.



The music had changed. Tito played a beautiful melody, and the words struck a chord with her. Was she crazy? Had all this mess with Rovin made her soft in the head?



Sarinah smiled at him, turning a hand over to squeeze his back. Taking a big breath, she shook off her sombre mood.

"Sounds like you know a bit about burdens and healing kov. Vienda is a strange place. On the surface, she is the place to be. But when you get past the outside, she is nothing but a bad tumble. Pretty on the outside with the sweetest words and sly glances, but inside she is cold and ugly and she will take you for everything you have." Suddenly she grinned.

"I'm actually thinking about packing up and leaving for Old Rose. I haven't been free of Vienda in four years. But now, my perspective has changed. I want to get out of here, and I hear Old Rose is a rather fun place to be. Not sure what I'll do there, I can imagine a girly tavern would go down swimmingly there, but I think I need to move away from the life I live." She took an excited breath, her eyes were shining.

"Ooh, you know where I would love to go. Anahu. Can you imagine? Ah but those clocking hatchers. I ent going to risk bein et by a hatcher." The music had ended and she looked up to see where Tito had gone.



She inclined her head to the two wicks.

"Well now, would you have a look at that. Your Calli is making friends with that benny kov."

Tristaan laughed in understanding, rather amused at the comparison. It stung a little, because it was a very astute observation.


Tristaan was thoroughly amused. Should I tell 'er that's just where I came from?

Tilting his head, he sighed, then spoke quietly, "Inna way, I grew up here'n Vienda ... sort of. I'm from Muffey, really, but that be a different story for another time unless you're not in t'mystery an' have a lot of time on your hands tonight," He smiled crookedly, as if implying something exciting, even if it really wasn't, "I've only ever seen this place from the inside, from the real guts of the Soot District's factories an' slums. It's clockin' near impossible for me t'see this place above m'memories ...I scraped what I could together an' got out of this place at sixteen. I never looked back."

He looked Sarinah in the eyes, but his own were far away and distant, "An' I'm fresh up from the Old Rose. I've been in the Harbor two years or so after parting ways from the Red Crow who took me in for a while and didn't look on me as somethin' dangerous ..." He swallowed, realizing his commentary had turned into a brief personal history. He supposed he, too, could blame such things on the wine, "It's not a bad place if you like the smell o'the sea and a rougher ... culture. But my kind'a work is not quite as ... graceful as yours. I was'bout ready to drift again, and apparently Alioe was kind enough to put Calli and 'er circus friends in m'path to bring me here. It was time to let old wounds heal, I guess."

The passive exhaled slowly, unsure of whether or not he had just spoken too much. While he said nothing of his heritage, and while he didn't quite wear it on his sleeve, it was hard for him to remember that not everyone knew his was galdori-born and yet without magic. His time with wicks made it more confusing, but he was happy enough to keep it that way most of the time.


Tristaan glanced over Sarinah's head with a smile, "You mean she doesn't have enough boys from the circus chasing her that she's gotta meet s'more?"

Sarinah turned her head to give him her full attention, nodding now and then. She had never had to visit the Soot District factories, but she could imagine they were a horrible place to be. She smiled encouragingly.



She liked to listen to peoples stories, and Tristaans was an interesting one. She wondered what he did exactly, but it didn't matter. It was nice just listening. She watched him look over her head.



Laughing, the black and red haired dancer looked at Calli again.

"She's just being friendly. Poor chip doesn't even realize how pretty she is."

Tristaan shook his head, agreeing, "Ne, but I'm sure she'll grow into't. Maybe a bit o'circus fame'll help." He smiled, nostalgia fading with the mention of what brought him here in the first place, "Speakin' of which, you should come. Opening night is the 30th, an' while I can't promise you as comfortable a seat –" The passive winked playfully, bouncing a knee for emphasis, "I'm sure I can save you one with a'least a benny view."