With: Bridgette, Theo
Where: Silver Tankard Wagon, Riverside Avenue, Artisan's Quarter, King's City
When: Thursday, February 28th, 872 RoK (Reign of Kings)
Theo: "Beg to differ," ... "When you learn how to look at a city, you see its history and its soul in the buildings and roadways. Even boroughs in the same city are vastly different."
Zaire's eyes drifted back toward the blond kid, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. How poetic.
It did make him think though; when was the last time he'd taken a moment to appreciate the beauty around him? Not the sweeping pinks and purples of a sunrise or the way the sunlight sparkled on the sea, or even the softness of his wife's milk-heavy breasts, but the beauty in the everyday? The filigree on a pocket watch or the lace on a noblewoman's bodice; the graceful movements of a street performer . . .
Maybe Zaire was simply too jaded now. When he looked at the King's City, he didn't see those things, but rather the potential for a pickpocket, the privacy of an alley if a beating were in order, the ease of which to lose the guards amongst the crowds.
Theo: "This one, if I'm being honest, I'm still learning. I'm from the other city," ... "I'm Theo," he added. "Well met."
Zaire nodded at the greeting, finally turning his attention fully to his conversation partners, but didn't offer his name in return. They were both young and their fascination with the city reminded him of the first time Gunther, his cabin boy, had seen the tropical coasts of the West. The boy, born in the North, had been eager to see all there was to see, to dig his bare toes into the sand and catch crabs where the waves lapped the beach. And his crew had indulged the boy, taking him seining in the shallows, and then teaching him how to cook up the gathered bounty over red hot stones and wet seaweed, steaming the clams until they opened and grilling up potatoes and pork sausage to go with.
There was an innocence in that fascination and maybe that was part of the beauty Zaire was missing.
Red: "You smell like the sea," she said to the newcomer with a nod of greeting. "I like the sea. And I haven't seen any..." she paused to recall the words, "broad streets lined with jugglers. Can you show us?"
"I work down at the ferries," Zaire explained, the lie coming easily. "Transportin' goods from the sea t'the city." He had little interest in playing tour guide for a couple of out-of-towners but he also wasn't looking to draw undue attention to himself either. Walking them to the next street over, where a troupe was performing an entire play on stilts, would be easy enough until he could make his way back to his Brandy-love for a drink and a tussle.
"Kago Govender," he added, using one of the many aliases he employed outside of the 'safety' of the West. His eyes went to the red haired girl with the pixie, who hadn't offered a name. "And what should I call ye, lass?"