The Price of Dance

Log Info

• Title: The Price of Dance
• Emitter: Skielstregar
• Characters: Skielstregar, Aelwyn
• Place: Southern Bridge over Tornmawr River
• Time: May 1st, 2022
• Summary: Upon the Southern Bridge, Aelwyn and Skielstregar run into each other, the former delivering a cart of apples. He wishes for better use of his time doing blade work, and Skiel points out he can go to the Explorer's guild to take a crack at that. Conversation goes back and forth, Skiel explaining why he's so shiny before Aelwyn is yelled at to get the shipment to its destination.

Southern Bridge over Tornmawr River, Midday

It's a cloudy grey day, so overcast that nothing casts a shadow on the busy southern bridge of Alexandria's grand port. The wind is mild, the only thing cutting through what would seem to be a muted, dreary day.

Which means, a certain, very shiny silverscaled sith-makar walking westbound towards the lower districts from the temples isn't a veritable source of mobile blindness. Thankfully that cloak blocks any more issues that might surface if the sun decides to show its face.

He rubs at his face, each step a muted thud and jangle of armor and weapons.

Aelwyn was such a bright red spot on this fancifully grey day. That and the glaive-tipped polearm he so proudly held aloft with his steps with its little red ribbon curling around the shaft like a little red snake.

What's more, he was pushing along a cart of apples. And bags of flour and other such nonsense, but most importantly apples. Red shiny apples. One of which the Dragoon was attempting to gnaw through, to little pleasure or even success.

"Silver," The runt calls out over the noise of the crowd, heedless of the fact that his voice might not even get heard.

Skielstregar is a bit lost in his head as he travels along, though he's mindful of where he treads. Big guy + smaller folk = squished feet if he's not careful. Though, not many folk get called 'Silver', and he perks up, glancing around. Did someone spy a person close to him?

Tall as he is, it makes it easy to look over the crowd to see- ah, a spot of red. It's mostly the tall horns and ribbons attached to them that catches his attention. He carefully strides up through the crowd.

"Purple," he rumbles as he gets close enough, just a hint of a chuckle underneath it. "Peace on your nessst. Are you..." he looks about Aelwyn's affects. "... baking?"

Aelwyn tilts his head as he gets addressed by 'Purple'. He cracks the red apple open with his sharp teeth, and the hard core splinters, but he doesn't make any move to stop the pieces from falling off his mouth. Eventually he bows his head towards Skielstregar. "May his nest prosper."

The Dragoon gives a longer look towards the silvery sith, then looks down at his cart. "A job. Bring from the port to the tavern." He picks up another apple and then begins gnawing on it. "The word was that it is worth more coin than dancing."

The Dragoon frowns as he attempts to 'eat' his apple once again. "How is the Silver's weapon haul?"

Skiel watches as the apple shards fall to the ground, a light chuckle escaping him. "Thisss one thinksss that the applesss have to get to the tavern asss well, not just the cart," he mentions.

He looks himself over, weapons easily seen under the cloak and in the quiver on his back. "Thisss one came to the conclusion they did not need a hammer. Inssstead they bought thisss." He raises his left hand, showing off a leather and metal studded glove. "You were right. Punching it isss better."

A beat. "Dancing?"

Aelwyn looks at the cart, then back up at Skiel. "They did not specify." He cracks the apple open and carefully, with his forked tongue, attempts to eat a bit of the apple. He definitely does not look very pleased about the bite.

The glove catches his interest though, so he flicks the last of apple over the side and moves closer to inspect the glove. The dragoon moves to hold it and give it a testing tug or two. "No reverberations when hit really hard?" He asks, orange eyes looking back up with a toothy grin. "Very convenient carry, no?"

The ruddy-scaled sith steps back eventually and bows his head. "Dance." He points at his polearm's pointy end. "With the fire and blade." He raises his shoulders and lets out a long sigh. "Was not expecting it to be this hard to sell on my own."

Skielstregar chuffs once and raises a shoulder in a shrug. Though his glove is tested and prodded, his head tilting slightly to the side as he holds it hand out for inspection. "Sssome, but it getss the job done. More importantly, thisss one won't get their hand cut if they try. Very convenient, yessss."

He drops his arm to the side, dead silver watching where things were pointed at. It clicks. "Ah." He shifts on his feet. "Have you tried going to the... Explorer'sss Guild? They... have jobssss there for that kind of work. Thisss one hass gone on plenty from there."

"Explorer's Guild?" Aelwyn asks, looking back at Skiel. "They are interested in dancers?" Then the Dragoon looks a bit longer at Skiel, before he cranes forward and narrows his slit pupils some. "Silver does not look like one."

A hand reaches out and tries to literally twist Skiel's upperbody some, as if the far smaller sith-makar was trying to check the taller male's posture. "Certainly a presence."

Skielstregar warmly chuckles, a few gouts of frozen air spilling from his nostrils. "No, thisss one doesss not dance. Well, fighting, yesss. They are a Warrior, and sssuch servicesss are needed ssssometi-"

It's akin to shoving a brick wall.

He blinks dumbly, and stares down at Aelwyn. "... Dragoon Aelwyn... where... are you from again?" he asks, adjusting his posture so its less hunched over.

He towers.

Aelwyn straightens. And then straightens some more up to a backwards bend, looking up at Skiel, before pointing towards the general direction of the city gates. "Long distance along that road." The Dragoon lowers his hand, completely unfazed by the stare down. "Very long distance. Many towns and cities." He clearly wasn't one for geography, either. "My blade can fight too for an appropriate amount of coin."

Skiel slowly tilts his head to the side, as he looks off in the direction pointed to him. "... it isss well if you don't wisssh to tell thisss one," he sighs, shaking his head before returning back to his slumped posture to close the height difference some.

"Ah. Coin motivates you. Well... thisss one wasss paid fair there, even though thiss one doesn't care much for coin. Depending on how hard the job issss."

He glances to the glaive. "... and what fightsss hasss the blade ssseen?" he inquires, trying to get a gauge of the elaborate and foreign makari.

Aelwyn shakes his head. "Traveled with a group. City to city, ever since the hatching." And for his part, he begins to stand up more straight, stretching out on his toe-claws, to just get a crucial inch or two on the taller sith-makar. He inhales deeply, and pretends that he is not at all envious of the height difference.

"Silver gets paid in something else than coin?" The runt asks, genuinely surprised, then narrows his eyes. "... reputation?" When the conversation turns towards his blade though, he gives it a brief twirl on his hand, before resting it against his shoulder and neck. "In the cities? Many, but not few enough," He exhales a long breath, "It is not always good for the coin to win the right fight."

Skielstregar just slowly nods, him resting on his back foot as he crosses his arms. Somehow this just only aids in making him look even larger. "Thisss one sssees."

He shakes his head. "Thisss one gets paid in coin fair and well. It isss just that thiss one doesss not care as much for it. Thisss one cares more about helping people." A long talon taps the Dragonfather amulet on his chestplate. A side profile of a regal looking dragon. Or Daeus, for the softskin name. His head tilts to the side. "Win the right fight? Thisss one isss sorry, their Tradespeak isssn't... the besst. What do you mean?"

"The fight one was paid coin for." Aelwyn explains, and then tilts his head. "Silver's command of the tongue is fair." The Dragoon bows his head, but he does take a longer look at the amulet on the chestplate. "Is this Silver's leader?" He finally asks. "The one Silver fights for?"

Skielstregar bobs his noggin. "I ssssee. Thank you."

He blinks, then shakes his slowly. "Thisss one hasss no leader. Thisss iss the Dragonfather." A pause. "Daeus? The Platinum Dragon? The Sssun Lord? Thisss one fightsss for their themssselves, their mate, and for the good of people," he eventually answers, a hand resting on his hip. Armored tail swaying slowly behind in with little clinks of plates clacking against one another.

Aelwyn's eyes widen as he leans back. "Dragonfather!" He exclaims, as it suddenly hit him, and then he bows his head. "Of course, the Dragon." He grins widely when he straightens his head. "One of these days, I shall ride with them." The small sith-makar stretches out his chest, looking more than full of himself, but his orange gaze falls upon the silvery scales.

"... is this why Silver's scales look like platinum?" He had to ask.

Skielstregar gives a little chuckle as Aelwyn recognizes the holy symbol. "Perhapsss one day. Far in the future after a long lived life for you."

The comment causes him to rub his neck. "Ah, no, that isss not the Dragonfather'sss doing. Thisss one'sss scalesss used to look like thisss." He points to his cloak.

Sewn onto the shoulders of his brown and blue cloak is a number of large, flaky looking tarnished bronze scales. Upon closer inspection, it actually looks to be tarnished silver. Dull and weak, cracking in places. "Thisss one usssed to be covered in these. Then, ah, they met a kind gold dragon that gave them a gift. Thisss one wisshed they were shiny asss them."

He coughs into a fist. "... thisss one did not know they would take it literally. But, it isss preferable than walking around feeling like they were rotting."

Aelwyn takes a closer look at the cloak; he didn't notice the scales before. "Rotting? The scales were rotting?" He carefully pokes at one of them with the tip of his claw. But he smoothly pulls back as well, looking at the far taller sith. "Not so far future, if the winds have me." The Dragoon says, "Silver did meet a dragon. A dragon could meet a Dragoon too."

The scale is poked. It bends and flexes, threatening to crack under the pressure. Brittle. "Yess. Rotting. Thisss one wasss... how to put thisss kindly..."

It takes him a moment to search for the words.

...

Maybe ten moments. Then decides to just say it. Carefully, he holds one hand up. "Thisss one was alive once. Then sssome bad thingsss happened. Then became dead. Then...-" the other hand raises, "-sort of unalive? But then alive again," he explains, shifting on his feet. "It isss complicated and messy."

He gives a little shrug. "Hopefully soon inssstead of later in eternal flight. It wasss a... very humbling moment for thisss one."

Aelwyn takes in the words, tilting his head. It'd normally be hard to say if he was surprised, but undoubtedly for the other sith it was easier to see it reading across his blunt face.

A loud voice suddenly calls out from the end of the bridge. "Dragoon or whatchum'callit! Where's the damn shipment, ya scaly dwarf!" Aelwyn turns his head around and then looks at the neglected cart. With a deep breath, he turns towards Skiel. "Then I'd be honored to hear more about this flight. Later, not on the streets." The draconian walks over the cart and hoists it up on its wheels. "Nest in peace, Silver." With that, he begins his slow journey across the bridge, another apple between his teeth.

-End Scene-