Sing Me A Song Of A Lad That Is Gone...

[Izeiar]

It felt like a dragon's age since he'd been back in Strigavi. The lands of his birth, changed so much by war and heartache, and yet still the same as they'd been some near-four-hundred-years ago. Mother Night, how he loved and hated this place. So many there who remembered him, who knew him, and who he yet wanted nothing to do with.

Too many, were the memories here. Males who had beaten him and been beaten by him, whose words still rung in the depths of his ears. Words that, no matter how strong the male had been who'd heard them, still stung with the weight of his life's making. He couldn't help it, that the Rut was the only time he showed interest in females. He also couldn't help it that he had no idea anyone was hitting on him. His life hadn't revolved around that as much as others may have, as much as his own family's might have. His brother had children, now, he'd been told. Found himself a Broken Queen whose womb had been understandably barren, so they'd thought, but through the grace of Night and the Ruling Queen, he'd been able to sire a pair of twins on her.

Izeiar was happy for him. To beget children into the world was a blessing, he viewed, despite his own unwillingness to become a father. Children complicated things, and the prospect of eventually having to face down his own virginity, to lose it to someone, be it male or female or neither, perplexed him and worried him. Four-hundred years he was, and still every attempt to become something to someone else had ended almost before it had begun. He'd been left asleep in bed so often, no closer to losing his innocence with someone than he'd been the moment he planned to take them home.

Shyness was his adversary, and his saving grace.

He was on the hunt for a proper spear shaft; his home district held some of the best trees for it in the world, in his opinion, but lacked the craftsmen in his taste who understood the particulars of having a spear good for both hunting and fishing, as well as self defense. Izeiar had been seeking a set of five, hand-carved by hands able to manipulate the details of which better than his own, and there was no better place to find them than Capricia.

And so, here he was, walking through the main city streets on the hunt for the shop meant to craft them for him. He had attended the week prior to deliver the materials, he simply had to remember where it was he was supposed to go. Well, that was to say he didn't remember - he did, but it was always nice to take a stroll and see how things had changed in the years since he moved to Parbelavi.

[Talimar]

He managed to fill an awful lot of space for a man who kept his wings folded neat down his spine. One covering the other like a shield. Maybe it was the piglets he held in his hands. One for each fist, hefted in the air by their back legs, they squealed impressively. At his feet was a lopsided basket filled will three more.

”You didn’t tell me she was a girl!” He laughed, giving the little beasties a shake before setting them back in the basket with their litter mates. The merchant stared. Behind him was a paneled fence built into the alley between two proper shops. Grunting and squealing came from behind it. There was an exchange of words that made him press his elbows to his hips and laugh.

”How the fuck am I supposed to know what a sow is?” A breeding sow. He caught sight of him coming up to catch his breath, tall and broad in the corner of his eye. Talimar toed his basket full of piggies and sighed. ”You gonna buy them?” What the fuck was he going to do with six pigs? He hardly knew what he was doing with the one.

Giving up, Talimar hefted his basket of bacon and set himself on a collision course with the pretty princeling. If they couldn’t make him any marks, at least they could make a good opening bid. Er, topic.

[Izeiar]

Izeiar heard the pigs squealing over the chorus of conversations around him, though he admittedly paid only marginal mind to them. Animals made noises, that's what they did. He pulled his hair tie down, the leather sash meant to keep the myriad throng of braids securely in place, and let them fall over his ears to keep them warm.

Wings shifted, then adjusted themselves before hooking at the neckline and draping across his shoulders like a like-colored cloak of skin, making him look more lion than man at times. His sharp eyes shifted across the landscape, on the hunt for something that would deal with the hunger pangs, and the idea for pork of some kind had been unknowingly and securely supplanted in his brain. Somewhere at the back, where the less socially-acceptable ideals lived. His people were avid hunters, it was only acceptable to think about butchering something and having himself a nice bacon sandwich of some sort.

He wove through the crowd, completely unaware he was being tailed; most would have noticed, and if he'd had the good sense he would have put some shields up. But he assumed, probably wrongly, that those who knew him would now be few and far between. He'd humored the idea, once, of moving back. Establishing himself in one of the villages, see if he couldn't get his beehives going here, but ultimately it was the wildflowers present in his mountain abode that made the honey so enticing. He wouldn't make nearly as much money back in Strigavi as he had the potential to continue making at his current home.

Besides, bees were notoriously hard to keep in civilian places. More people meant a higher likelihood he'd encounter problems, and problems were the last thing he wanted to deal with. Dealing with problems meant more scars, more broken bones, and more conflict than he wanted to handle. The War had taken care of the mainstay of that, though there was still that periodic desire to destroy someone in a good, clean battle of wills. The aggression from that kept him up some nights.

The Rut was always problematic for him, and some part of him hoped it wouldn't be a situation where he was slow to sell his honey, and ended up being here for it. Going home to his seclusion where he could rock-climb without ropes and satisfy the need for physical activity without breaking himself down or validating his beliefs of incompetency were paramount. He wasn't ready for the Rut in a city, especially one as sizable and populated with untested and hunting-for-mates males as Strigavi had always been.

It was safer on his own. Far, far safer on his own, just him and his bees.

He did get a creeping suspicion that something or someone was getting a little too close for comfort, but he opted instead to let his gut instinct go, once he turned around and scanned the crowd for a moment. A few incredibly attractive males, some females, but ultimately nobody he saw at first glance seemed interested in his presence more than anyone else ever was.

Izeiar stepped into a storefront, the scent of roasting nuts and meat catching his attention.

[Talimar]

It was alarming, but also amusing how absolutely oblivious the prince was. Ridiculously so. The piglets snuffled and squealed in their basket, and Talimar himself did not creep. He walked, pace set to match, a shoulder always just ahead of him to his right. A few times the basket nearly brushed the man they came so close.

And he never noticed. Gaze skimming over Tali but never settling. It went on for a while that way. People moving out of their way. Talimar not quite so big or intimidating in appearance. His shoulders to relaxed and his smile too friendly. He grinned and winked at plenty as he shuffled after the other prince. Smothering a chuckle or two in the join of his wing.

He had to be a baby. No man so utterly ignorant to the people around him could have survived the war.

Finally they stopped. A nutty flavor rolling through the door of a shop. Tali reached out and flicked at the end of a braid as the prince stepped inside. The game suddenly over. It was not the sort of place a man took a basket full of piglets. He debated waiting. But the idea did not hold appeal. The prince was cute, but not cute enough for him to linger outside a store like a heart broken waif. Instead Tali stuck his head in the door, smirk curling his lips.

”It was nice walking with you, princey.” Teeth flashing, he dodged the wicked glance sent his way by the shop owner and ducked back out the door. Laughing to himself, Talimar switched the basket between arms and went on his way. He would let Rian decide what to do with the piglets. Breeding sow. He had a feeling his sister was going to have a good laugh at him.

[Izeiar]

It was pleasant, strolling through the Market; ground-eating strides were seldom matched by many, and what was initially either disregarded or missed, it was hard to distinguish which since he had noted many throughout the crowd soon became evident when the other Prince began keeping pace with him. Shoulder to shoulder for a moment with his basket of piglets, and gold eyes flickered briefly towards them. Cute though they were, and delicious as he bet they would soon be, he hadn't any real way to carry any of them home. And his eyrie was a poor place to raise any of them, let alone how steep the mountainsides tended to be.

Though for a moment, and chancing a look at the other male from his peripheral, he considered it.

The other probably thought he hadn't noticed him, but even someone so socially oblivious to interest, couldn't ignore when someone was practically shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Long braids were flicked as he ducked into the shop, which only confirmed what he was suspecting - Ize had picked up someone else's attention.

Regretfully, he gave the shopkeep a look of 'be right back' and a wink, before he stepped out seconds after Talimar had spoken to him, two or three elongated strides easily picking up pace once more with the leaner-bodied member of his own race. For some steps, he retained a silence that wasn't uncomfortable for him, simply trying to get the measure of the other male in the methods he had for decades. His pace was easy, no trouble keeping up with the one set by his counterpart, and he appeared more interested in the surroundings for a moment than with the one beside him.

"Maybe we'd best carry on a bit longer then, shall we?" Ize grinned, a broad sort of humored expression that encompassed the entirety of his face with a mellow ease that was, on occasion, deceptive. He had a penchant for calm, cool and collected, and then all at once breaking a chair over someone's back. But usually not until they'd taken a swing at him first. "All of those yours? Got quite the handful."

Another few paces, and he raised a scarred brow, peering sidelong at the other Prince.

"Was plannin' to stop for some meat'r some nuts, but seems like someone wants me interested'n theirs, instead."

The problem of his mouth sometimes kicking in before his brain had the full moment to understand what he just uttered became apparent, because color crept into his neck and face a moment or two after he spoke up. He looked back the way they were headed, not entirely sure where exactly this Prince was going, but curious all the same and with more than enough time to figure it out. Who knew. Stranger things had happened, and in all truth, he didn't expect more than the usual. Interest, which quickly turned to disinterest as soon as he opened his mouth, or as soon as they figured out he wasn't as experienced in the sack as he was anywhere and everywhere else.

"Izeiar. A pleasure."

There was that momentary twinge of hesitation. The way he went quiet just before he offered his name, as if the exposure alone might result in attention he may not have wanted. It wasn't as if he was some sort of uncontested war hero, he'd served, certainly, and he served well. There had been no question about any of that, but the truth of the matter was, a lot of Eyriens had. Many of them, from every part of Askavi, had fought Witch. No one could be expected to consider every Prince that existed among their few-remaining race. It was the Warlord Princes and the Queens who seemed to be recognized where ever they ruled, and the fact of the matter was that Izeiar had been away from Strigavi for long enough, that most people didn't remember him unless they'd known him personally. It was all right.

He liked it that way.
Made it less embarrassing when he failed to attract their attentions in all the right ways, not all the wrong ones.

"I have to hand it to you. Not many people brave enough to walk up an' flick my hair. Course, I get distracted by my stomach more often'n I should, these days."

[Talimar]

Talimar ignored him. The silence sitting heavy between them, at least for Tali who was not used to extended periods of quiet. If it wasn’t customers it was his siblings, or friends too, filling his off time. Very little of it quiet or truly restful. Certainly relaxing though. He glanced sidewise at the other prince but waited. Holding his words back. He’d offered the first words to the very oblivious prince. It was the other man’s turn now.

He was not disappointed either. ”A bit only, we’re running out of road.” His smile was sharper than the other. Talimar’s was not the sort of face to give over to broad good humor. Friendly enough, but there was always something a little sharp around the edges. His teeth flashed welcome and warning all at once. ”Well they are my sow’s. How she came by them I’m not quite sure.” He bounced the basket making them snort and grunt in discontent.

Tali made kissing noises at them and quit jostling the basket. Had she been pregnant when he’d bought her? Or would he have to worry about wandering boars like he did warlord princes? Sleepily, Tali met the glance slid his direction. And then be laughed, not in the least bit guilty at doing so.

”Something like that, prince, something like that.” He almost expected the fellow to run. His color went from warm to rich as his words caught up with him. Tali tongued his bottom lip and shook his head. He did not run, however, just blushed and stayed steady at Tali’s side. ”Talimar.” It was too early to decide if it was a pleasure or not. By all appearances it should be, eventually. Soon, hopefully.

”That was more than distracted,” he chuckled, head tipped back and a smirk on his lips. Tali shifted the piglets to his hip and looked Izeiar over. ”I’ve an inn, just outside of town. We’ve got plenty to soothe your appetite.” He offered. ”Meat and nuts, it just so happens.” He teased. He doubted there were nuts in the larder, in all honesty, but there was always something cooking and he had plenty else to appease the prince with.

”Where’re you from, Izeiar?” Tali asked, allowing his shoulders and wings to relax until they were near to brushing against each other.

[Izeiar]

"Don't strike me's the sort of guy that doesn't understand how piglets'r made," Ize chided with humor, the latter more than evident in how wide he smiled and how his eyes glinted with the mainstays of it, "But I know what y'mean. Suppose there's always that sorta problem with livestock, mmm? Even my bees get the odd hornet or something every once in again. Good thing they've got it sorted how to handle it, same's I imagine most of the Warlord Princes around here handle invadin' potential suitors lookin' for love during the Rut or somesuch."

Ize wore the weathered expression of a man who'd seen the war for far longer than he'd wanted to. Buried plenty of people, killed even more, and whose stomach soured still now at the spilling of blood for reasons of death, by way of people who deserved it even less. Blood for survival, or sparring, or necessity as in butchering for meat, that was one thing. Watching innocent people put to the sword or the end of magic words because of their race, or their line in the sand being the wrong one, it still riled him. Far more, perhaps, than it should have. He was by no means a pacifist in any expanse, but to him, murder needed a purpose. It needed a reason.

To do it because you were stronger than someone else, made no sense to him. Eyriens were struggling too much right now in numbers, to put down so many of the bloodlines. The more males around to breed with, the stronger their race would become. He attested to it, even when he wasn't chosen to sire progeny. Even though he, himself, had never been tested in that way. It was almost a shame, really. One he didn't reasonably admit to, not without effort.

"What happens when the road's out?" he peered sidelong, still maintaining that somewhat half-cocked smirk. "An' I've a big stomach, tends t'override most things. Can't help it. Hard t'keep it full, sometimes. Not that there's anybody willin', usually." He licked his lips at the mention of food. Not hard to get this one's attention, where that was concerned.

"Suppose I could make a stop. I've got some business to handle'n town, but it can wait. Isn't real important, just new weapons. Can't find much better'n Strigavi, far as craftsmanship goes."

There was that small twitch. The smallest one, in the way his own wings seemed to relax a little more, the way his gait opened up, his shoulders eased down just a hair. His ears - what was left of one of them - fell back about a half an inch. An ease in tension he didn't know he'd been maintaining, drawn mostly by the assumption that this Prince was luring him out for a grander predator to pounce on him. Paranoia wasn't always Ize's strong point, and he tended to relax a bit more than most in these situations, but Strigavi had always - since the War, at least - made him a little bit nervous.

"Here," he spoke up quietly, much more quiet than he had before and with less conviction. A sort of derelict measure of disappointment smoldering somewhere in his eyes. "Moved t'Parbelavi after the War. Wanted the peace an' quiet. Decided t'keep bees, haven't regretted it much yet. But even somebody like me's gotta come back to the city every once in a while. Get back to civilization. Be around m'own kind every once in a while, right?"

The truth was far harsher, but good luck getting him to ever admit that in public. Even his former almost-lovers hadn't known the truth until they'd caught on to his nervousness as soon as clothing came off. He was sure of himself in public, because he had to be. Certain of his words and his actions most of the time, because it was necessary. To be viewed as less of a male than anyone else was almost a death sentence among his own kind, and he wouldn't ever allow himself to be seen as weak. He upkept his physique for that reason, almost, alone.

[Talimar]

”Don’t I?” Tali looked at the piglets. They were too busy snuffling each other and rooting around in the blanket he’d dropped at the bottom to look back at him. Probably for the best since he was likely to be eating them. Eventually, they seemed a might small for that just yet. Eyes squinting against the sun, Tali glanced at his companion and shrugged. ”I have no idea about any of that.” Sounded messy, when sensible usually saw things done fine enough.

Rian was still alive, anyway. And a whole lot less sour, even if she had boxed his ears.

”You end up walking in grass. Or pig shit.” Shoulders bobbing in a shrug, Tali looked the prince over, wondering if he wanted it laid out plain. He’d had some lovers that liked it that way. All the things Tali planned to do to them laid out like a grocery list. Or was it some sort of deception? He couldn’t tell with this one. ”Spend a lot of time feeding yourself then?” He asked cheerfully, eyes laughing until they almost creased shut.

”So they say.” He couldn’t agree one way or another. Talimar had never worried much about the craftsmanship of his weapons. So long as they stayed in one piece while he was trying not to die was good enough for him. He also couldn’t imagine this fellow with any sort of weapon. Too distracted by his own stomach to make use of them, Tali bet. Shy creature that he was. Tali chuckled.

”Can’t imagine there is much quiet living near the queen. She’s about as restful as a bee in your bonnet.” He spoke fondly for his words could be construed as speaking against Ilithian. She was a good queen with clever fingers and calming craft so deep a man’s soul could sleep in it and forget the horrors of the world. ”Socializing is important.” He agreed with a nod. ”But I sell alcohol and beds for a living so I might be biased.” He winked dramatically and lead the way down the path to the inn.

Settled outside of town so people could sleep easy away from the presence of strangers. There was just more room there too. The main building flanked by the pig pen and Rian’s new garden. Laundry house set up behind it. ”Home sweet home.” He announced, dumping the piglets into the pen with their mother. The boards were weathered but the paint still mostly green. Common room clean and quiet this time of day. A few men scattered about nursing beers and lunches.

”Thirsty?” Tali asked, gesturing to the bar. An Opal thread summoned lunch via his sister. A quick probe to check on Meridian flashing through the building.

[Izeiar]

Ize's laughter rumbled in his chest, a sound that was much richer than it might look to be with a man his size. Quieter than most might expect, but it was more felt than heard; he wasn't a boisterous man outside of the battlefield, that much was understandable given anyone who knew - or even suspected - his history. War was a loud, angry, hateful thing, and he did his best to be opposite of it outside of any sort of conflict area. They were, from everything he could tell, the same rank. There was nothing to contest, nothing to war over, nothing to box this decidedly handsome but a little bit feisty-seeming man around about. Ize didn't assume anything anymore.

People liked to surprise him for the worst, the few times he did.

"Not much choice. Nobody else's gonna do it're they?" Ize's huge shoulders offered up a shrug, as if he'd completely missed the humor in it. "Don't live wi' nobody, don't see m'huntin' camp much anymore these days, outside the obvious. Live on m'own. Me an' my bees. Pretty much it. Come to the bigger cities t'sell my honey, outside'a that, well..."

He gestured with both hands in that sort of 'here we are' measure, indicative of a man who spent the mainstay of his life now completely alone. In some ways, he liked it. In others, it sucked the biggest dick in the history of the world. But he couldn't complain. Many during the war had fared far, far worse. Made bigger mistakes, taken bigger risks, and had paid for that with their lives. He'd been one of the lucky ones, even if the harassment for his survival had meant he had to leave the city and all the hostility behind.

He followed Talimar curiously, though there was still that small, ever-faint presence of wariness and paranoia bred by what felt like an eternity of warfare. He shifted his wings to make them a bit less problematic, their ends brushing against his heels as he lifted them and stretched them, before settling them back into their makeshift cloak across his shoulders.

Gold eyes took in the surroundings, and he made a brief survey of those within before he nestled himself into an available seat at the bar. Eyes tracked Talimar once he'd gotten the measure of those others within, and an easier smile than he actually felt brushed across his lips before he settled his attention on the surroundings again.

"Always," Ize shifted, hooking one heel against the bottom portion of the seat's lower reaches, and shifted in his chair to find the Prince he'd followed here once again. "Dependin' on what you've got. Always careful 'bout drinkin' around strangers. Tends to end poorly, more often'n no."