"I ent slept in two days'r'so, Calli, but I'm jus'tired, not blind."

Tristaan arched a slim eyebrow at the girl, good hand running distractedly through his hair, "Did somethin' happen over th'boy?"

The passive's gray eyes watched the young witch carefully, remembering all the awkwardness of a youth that wasn't that far behind him anyway, "Y'know you can tell me whenever you feel like it. Do I need t'talk t'someone?" He thought for a moment, blinking, "It ent your da, is it?"

Sarinah approached the drink vendor and quickly ordered two whiskeys. Leaning on the stall as she waited, the dancer chanced a look back at Tristaan. How was she going to approach this? He didn't need drama on his first night back, especially in the state he was in. The brunette paid for the beverages and took them, nodding to herself. She would side step the questioning and get him rip roaring drunk. Then they could either ask Calli if they could crash by her fire for the night, or maybe he could speak to his da. Maybe, that might be a bad idea, seeing the state he was in. Whatever. She would think of something. Putting a smile back on her face, she began to return to the table.

Annie looked back over at the table Callie had been standing on. The crowd had parted a little, and she could see the girl sitting with the man Sarinah had dashed off to meet. There wasn't anybody on the floor she really wanted to dance with, and talking sounded like a much better idea. Besides, if he was there, then Sarinah would be as well, which would give plenty of opportunity to gather more information on this whole 'no wicks allowed' thing.

"Tito, walk an' talk, m'friend," she said, looping her arm in his and steering him towards the table. Scooting two chairs from the table next to it, Annie plopped herself down next to a rather glum looking Callie.

"Hope ye don' mind us joinin' the group. Too much dancin' goin' on out there, we needed a sit down." Annie reached her hand across the table towards Tristaan. "Name's Annie. Annie November. An' ye are?"

Turning back to Callie, she added, "What's the matter, chipper? Somebody try t'feed ye hingle agin?"

Calli picked up leaf that had blown onto the table and proceeded to systematically rip it to shreds.

"It's not Da, Da's fine." Her simmering petulance peaked for a moment, she was quite defensive of her father. "It's... clocking Taegan and Hal's all upset. That stupid lugger went and hit Dorian in the face and then Hal came over and ran off again because Dor said we were courting."

She let her forehead rest on her arms.

"This sucks." She spat, unhappily.



Calli's eyes snapped up and Annie recieved a look of unadulterated annoyance. She flicked her hair behind her ear with a hard gesture.

"No." She gritted out, teeth clenching. "Ha, ha."

She turned back to her leaf, ripping faster now.

Tristaan listened with a slight frown, at least relieved that Calli and her Da were still getting along over the whole idea of ... a boy ... courting ... wow. He still chuckled despite the relative unhappiness of the poor girl. Taegan was obviously the type to make things complicated, most likely without thinking of anyone but himself. It was too bad, really.

"I'm sorry t'hear, beata. Y'know somethin'll work out if you hang on a bit."


The passive could only offer his left hand, since his right arm was broken above the elbow, splinted, bound, and slung to keep it out of any further harm. He managed a warm smile, but he was obviously tired and perhaps travel-worn. His hand was calloused, "Hesta, Annie. You can call me Tristaan."

He chuckled, "I see you know Tito, who apparently knows all th'chips on Surwood by now."



Tristaan gave Calli a sympathetic look, almost as if to let her know she wasn't obliged to stay, despite his gratitude for her daring table-top search party and rescue.

He didn't quite know what else to say, and he was only further distracted once he noticed Sarinah was on her way back to the table, drinks in hand. He was beyond tired of the dull, hot ache in his arm as it was, and he really just wanted to be near the dancer again. Period.

He wasn't sure he was mentally, physically, or perhaps even emotionally prepared to answer questions about where he'd been and what he'd been up to and how he'd gotten hurt. The passive was sure he wanted to hear about the lovely witch's time, however, especially since despite her subtle deference, he was suspicious it had been unpleasant for some reason. What could've possibly happened since he'd been gone? Was it because he'd taken so long? Did something happen to her family?

As she got closer, he suddenly questioned his capability of even dealing with that, however, without at least several hours of real sleep. And he wasn't getting real sleep until he'd numbed a bit, which meant eventually he'd be unable to carry on meaningful conversation.

Oh, Alioe, I'm still a clocking mess.

Tristaan was frowning.

He was right where he'd been wanting to be for days, looking directly at the one thing he'd really missed, and he couldn't even smile.

Sarinah walked with the drinks above her head, avoiding the people as she returned. Looking up, she saw Tito and Annie had joined their table, and Tristaan was frowning. She glanced at Tito, had he said something about her? What did he have to say really? Sliding in beside Tristaan, she offered him the drink and gave everyone a smile. Calli was unusually down. Leaning over, she spoke quietly.

"Everything okay rosh?" Looking back over at Tristaan with a confused face, she leaned in and kissed his cheek, speaking quietly in his ear.

"Ye just sit and enjoy your drink, ye chen?"

The passive might have felt a little chagrined at Sarinah's words, but he kept it from his face. He also refrained from asking the questions that clouded his already muddy thoughts. Tristaan reminded himself that he had plenty of time on Surwood, the whole rest of Bethas, to catch up with whoever he wished.

Instead, he let his hand linger on the dancer's as he accepted his drink, managing a semblance of a smile and offering quietly, "I missed you."

Taking a long swig of his whiskey, he realized frustratedly that he could only do one of the two things he wanted; until his arm was fixed, he could not hold the witch and his drink at the same time. It was most disappointing, and he considered how to solve his problem carefully before bringing his glass back to his lips.

With a grunt, he set the empty thing on the tabletop, wincing briefly and sputtering only slightly at the burning in his chest, before reaching over and resting his good arm across the back of Sarinah's chair, content that he had made the right decision.

"Hmm. That's better." The passive's smile returned, "So, someone tell me they've been enjoyin' themselves while I've been in th'Harbor doin' mung things. Anyone?"

Sarinah took a drink of her whiskey, before looking at Tristaan with something of a grin. He was such a silly thing. Shaking her head, she threw back her own drink and banged the glass down beside his, wincing horribly as she swallowed the burning spirit. Shuddering a little, she shook her head, leaning into his good side.



The dancer looked around the table at each of the wicks, biting her lip. They were quite a sorry lot. Clearing her throat, she tried to think of something positive.

"Well I enjoyed the story night. It was about Anahu. Ent anything nicer than the idea of home. And erm...I joined a hingle anti-eating thinger...and...oes, I met your da." Her red lips grinned mischievously, as though Guaril had told her all the secrets of the passives life with the Red Crow.

He chuckled, arching a slim eyebrow in wordless curiosity as he watched her set down her empty glass. He had simply wanted to free the use of his hand, but the passive was left wondering if this was now a game the lovely witch had decided to play along with. His smile broadened warmly as Sarinah leaned against him. Tristaan sighed with contentment and let his fingers trace absently over the exposed skin of the dancer's shoulder.

Gods, he had missed her.


The passive's tired eyes might have widened a little, as if he hadn't expected her to really do so, "Oh? You went an' found Guaril?" He laughed, voice warming with a bit of interest. Now he just had to see him; he almost regretted not finding the man he called da first, "An' how'd that go? I hope that ol' wick didn't embarrass me too much behind my back."

Annie didn't really know much of what was going on between Tristaan and Sarinah, but she knew at least one of them knew something about the unknown events in Vienda, and she wanted to find out what.

She waited until there was a lull in the conversation before adding in her two cents.

"Ye said somethin' earlier about wicks an' Vienda, Sarinah? Care t'elaborate a bit? I weren't around fer the big news, an' I feel I'd be doin' less'n my duty if'n I didn' know what all happened."

Sarinah made a sort of contemplative hum and traced a figure eight on the table.

"Oh ne kov, I wouldn't go that far." Her grin turned positively wolfish. Looking up, she noticed some wicks were walking around the tables offering drinks and small snack foods. Raising her hand, she called one over.

"You think ye can bring a bottle of whiskey chip? And another three cups?" She smiled sweetly as the girl left.



Sarinah looked over at Annie with a nod.

"Oes, sorry chip. The wicks were kicked out of Vienda. Even ones with writs. Seventen got it in their head we ent worth the trouble, so they threw us out." She shrugged.

"Ent as bad as it seems for me, but some people had their whole lives in there." The girl returned with the bottle and she thanked her, slipping coin into her hand. Popping the top, she poured Tristaan and herself a half glass, leaving the bottle in the center for the others. Glancing up at the passive, she held the glass at her mouth for a moment, before shooting it back, grimacing and shaking her head as she did so. Putting the glass down, she raised an eyebrow.

Tristaan rolled his eyes at the dancer with a tired but mischievous grin, making an obvious point to take his time sliding his good arm away from the back of her chair and to his glass on the table, fingers lightly brushing across her skin as he did so. He lifted his drink, hand hovering somewhere between his face and the tabletop, pointing over the rim and speaking to Annie,

"There was another riot in Vienda on th'second ten of Intas. Th'gollies blame th'Eye an' th'Crow for fightin' again, though it seems t'me some of their own brigk took liberties with their vroo in th'chaos an' lots of innocents were unnecessarily injured jus'so those in power could prove a point an' blame someone else for their injustice. Wicks ent th'problem, if y'ask me."

The passive paused in his dolling out of personal political perspective to empty his glass without flair. He exhaled through his teeth only to sputter and wince a bit at the end, glancing through the dark waves of his hair at Sarinah briefly as if committing to playing along. He then set the glass back on the tabletop, rubbing the haggard, unshaven bottom of half of his face with his hand before speaking again,

"It was th'riot that s'possedly prompted th'anti-wick law, but it's all laoso talk t'keep everyone under golly boots." Tristaan let his hand fall from his face to rest on the dancer's thigh nonchalantly as he continued, "Until th'Crow an' Eye see they're jus' playin' into golly plans with their mung fightin', it ent goin' t'be any better, law or ne."

Looking a little sheepish, the passive realized he had not intended to give his entire point of view in one sitting. He smirked and considered blaming it on pain, sleep-deprivation and alcohol, but refrained from further comment by leaning back in his chair instead.

Annie stared at the dancer wide-eyed, something that didn't happen often. "I'll say! I ain't got a writ, but I got a rent agreement. It's...um...back at my room in Vienda. Which officially makes me homeless." She shook her head. "Homeless 'n' broke. What a life. I can't even get m'hat an' coat back, neither."

Annie looked back and forth from Tito to Tristaan to Sarinah. "So what've ye been doin' since? I may be a wick an' all, but I ain't never lived like one. I wouldn' know where t'start."

The dancer hadn't realised she'd missed his touch so much. The light movement across her shoulders sent an invisible shudder through the black and red haired witch, and to cover up, she reached for the whiskey even as he threw back the one he had. Pouring herself another, she downed it even before letting go of the bottle. She couldn't let thoughts of their flesh against flesh into her mind. He was hurt, tired and weary. The last thing he needed was a desire driven witch throwing herself at him. Dumping the glass on the table, glaring at it, she gripped the bottle, preparing to pour a second shot.



The woman slowly looked up through her lashes at the man, lips slightly parted and an almost animal look on her face. She was tipsy, it was headed towards drunk. His hand on her thigh was incredibly warm, she'd forgotten just how warm it could be. Annie was talking but she barely heard it.



Sarinah tore herself from Tristaans features and looked hard at Annie, trying to ignore the rising urgency to be with the passive.

"Ye need to find your tribe, if they'll take you. And a kint. Start looking for someone to teach you how to live off the land, or find people to buy from." The dancer didn't mean to come of blunt, but she couldn't think properly to make a nice answer.

"Tsssk." Teased the passive with a hint of noticeable slurring, reaching up to gently remove Sarinah's hands from her glass and the bottle with a sly grin, "Enough for you, beautiful, 'fore we're both in trouble."

He knew that look, and he kept her right hand in his left, lacing their fingers together in his lap. He gave her hand a squeeze, as if to acknowledge that he might've felt the same way, or that perhaps he wouldn't necessarily argue, or that maybe he could end up running off with the witch at anytime, head swimming with a rush of alcohol-induced indecision, "I'd prefer if th'one of us with two good arms stayed conscious. I ent quite in th'form t'carry you anywhere. Far, that is."

Tristaan beamed at the dancer with unabashed suggestion before putting back on a slightly serious face and looking to Annie with what practical comfort he could dig up from under everything else going on in his blurring thoughts,

"Come now, rosh. If y'can hold out a bit, I'm willin' t'bet it ent gonna be too hard t'get back into Vienda for long ... th'gollies may even see jus'how much they've gone an' shot their own toes an' change their mind."

He shrugged, realizing with relief that throbbing pain that gnawed at his right arm had begun to warmly fade into a dull, numbed ache, " 'Sides, this sure ent th'place t'be worryin'. There's plenty of time for that after th'festival is over. Even if y'ent got family here, Annie, there's plenty willin' t'share what's their's, 'specially after th'riot."

The passive yawned and eyed his glass with a squinty, torn sort of expression. He could drink more and ramble uselessly on, or he could quit while he was ahead and save some semblance of a thought process for walking ... home.

Happily accepting his laced fingers in hers, she rested her hand where he held it, lips slowing turning in a sultry smirk. Her chocolate brown eyes took in the look he gave her and the smirk turned into a grin. So...thats how it was. She nodded in agreement as he spoke to Annie, not really finding anything else important to add. There was no one else at this caoja except him anymore.



That did it.

Standing, still holding his hand, Sarinah nodded to the table of collected wicks.

"Epameo, but I think its time I got this kov some well earned rest. Fotomas all. Calli, I want to see you tomorrow. Sometime. Not to early, but...yes." That was the best she had, now officially somewhat drunk. Pulling on Tristaan's arm gently, she felt almost giddy.

"Although, sleeping arrangements are going to be interesting. Unless you want to go find your da now, I think we can find a nice spot near a fire somewhere." She sidestepped as much as she could about the drama that had evolved, choosing to try and NOT wreck the mood.

"Oh, I see how it is ... can't be showin' th'folks a wounded kov." The passive unassumingly teased, grinning sheepishly, "Whatta terrible first impression that would be."

He slid off his chair at the dancer's gentle tug, turning and nodding his head with only a slight wobble and a coy chuckle. He leaned his good shoulder against the witch as he struggled not to be obvious, "Oes, I ent gonna argue. Some ... sleep ... is def'nitely in order 'bout now."

Tristaan looked to Annie, managing a final word of seriousness, "If y'need anythin', don't hesitate t'ask, ye chen?"

With a tired grin and a shrug of his shoulders instead of a wave, the passive turned and began to lead the way through the crowd.

((Side-thread/continued w/Sarinah here: viewtopic.php?f=6&t=1412))

Annie didn't know what to say. Sarinah's words cut a little, and even though Annie knew the beautiful witch was a tad sloshed and probably didn't mean to sound harsh, they did. A journalist she may be--an' a durn good one, at that--but even in Vienda she'd always had a lead to her stories. Here, though...all I got is me an' me. A father somewheres an' a mother prolly hidden away in Brunhold, an' no traces o' either. Her only hope was that Tristaan was right; the gollies figuring out they'd shot their own foot and letting the wicks back in was Annie's only shot at respectable living.

Annie nodded quietly as the broken-armed wick stood and allowed himself to be led away by the lovely, intoxicated, woman next to him. "Aye, thankee kindly. I'll keep that in mind. Much obliged."



*(Ugh, sorry guys...I have zero mental comprehension right now. Lame post is lame.)*