Oy... What did I do?

Not an uncommon question after a night of drink after a long journey. Nor was waking up in the corner of the room one purchased for the night in a drunken haze, rather than the almost soft cot, left untouched on the otherside of the room. Waking upside down, your legs on the wall and torso sprawled on the ground, a bottle still in hand, was a touch different. But not so much for the Gaurim-touched male who lay shirtless, hair strewn about, headress askew in a puddle of his own drool and the cheap grog he'd been drinking the night before. He released the bottle and stretched, feeling his neck pop with an audible click, and winced at the suprisingly painful sunlight streaming in through his window, wrinkling his nose in distaste and turning away from the sun's cruel glare.

"...Thankfully'tis quie-"

There was a thunderous crash from out in the Inn, likely in its small kitchen or dining area. To Rask it was like a giant hammering on his temples and he flipped clumsily (though with suprising speed) onto his stomach and pushed himself up. He crouched a moment, emerald eyes flicking left and right quickly, then hopped to his feet, steadying the wobble he knew would come from many-a night similar to this. "You, m'scaly friend, need t'learn when'n'ow to stop lapping at tha'stuff," he said absently to himself, straightening his headress and wiping some of his spit off of his face. He glowered at the next-to-empty bottle in the corner of the room, as if it was the glass vessel's fault he had a pounding headache and a swarm of gnats in his stomach.

Scratching at the growth on his cheeks, Rask did a quick inventory of his gear. "All'ere," he murmured, before an open-mouthed-tongue-lolling yawn. He wrinkled his nose as an after thought, shooting the bottle a dirty look. "No thanks t'you."

After much self-cajoling, a few unkind comments about to the bottle (and lewd comments about its mother) the one called Sidewinder darted lightly down the hall of the Inn, and into its common area. Dressed as per usual, in his light beige desert-kilt and headress, with the uncommon addition of a light tunic for deceny's sake (though most of his so-called decency was probably dashed to dust after the charade of his prior night), he slinked up to the bar, stepping deftly around tables in a cat-like fashion, with slightly stooped posture and small, fast steps. He near-vaulted into the seat and stretched his neck again, blissfully void of crackling this time around, and let out a low sigh before taking another deep yawn.

By the look of things, the number of patrons in the Inn, light outside and sounds of general activity, it seemed to be too late to be called morning, yet just shy of noon. He relaxed into the chair and fished out a small bag from his waistpouch and started to finger through it.

Not much left... How much was that bottle? Rask frowned, thoroughly displeased. It was then he heard the shuffle of movement next to him. He wasn't used to not hearing people, and put it off to the lingering fog of the alcohol in his ears. A crooked, easy smile took its place on his lips, exposing canine teeth that looked a touch sharper than usual, and slightly inclined his head to the other patron, his eyes still on his bag of coin.

"So whacha'pose they charge t'feed a critter like this'ere?" He asked, his voice soft, yet growly, the words spoken quickly, but in good humour and followed them with a chuckle. His eyes flicked to get a glimpse of the chap seated next to him, his fingers still milling through the coins.

Kate found herself in the inn after being stabbed by hunger's dire knife. She dragged her gawky self through all the ragged glory of the place. Her nose burnt when she took in the air, thick with alchohol and whatever rancid food the common room consumed.

Kate ran her unstable hands through a ratty mess of amber that was her hair. Her eyes darted quickly as she suryeyed her surroundings. Better than nothing she told herself as she tried to find what exactly she had to do next within her racing mind.

Tired. That was how she felt. Tired. Kate had finally found the right word. Once again something was about to go wrong. She could sense it. She was tired of having everything she even attempt backfire. Nothing was worse than the slap in the face that resulted of your own failure.

Kate's luck wasn't just bad. It wasn't even there. Maybe if Kate had an ounce of luck she wouldn't be paranoid right now. Maybe her eyes would be the same color. One was brown to match her chaotic hair and the other was an unnatrual green. This resulted from her first try at magic.

She remembered it with disturbing clarity.

Her mentor, a quaint little man who lived in a tree, gave her a spell and Kate was to execute it. When her parents left alone in the woods so they wouldn't be plauged by her misfortune she discovered his photosynthetic home and made herself get comfertable. The sorcerer there realized that she had magical ability and tried to get her to use it.

Kate said the words clearly and closed her eyes hoping for the best. Suddenly a malignant bolt of green lightning speared through Kate. She screeched as the shock alone made her sick.

At least it wasn't as bad as the time I went sailing and fell off the boat and the mermaids- Kate realized she was just standing there. So she sauntered around as confusion followed her.

The tip of her leather boot caught on something and in a blur of frizzy brown hair Kate tumbled over and hit the floor with a solid smack. On her way she took out a chair and a woman. Kate struggled to get up, apologizing to no one in particular. She gave a sigh and stood up. Everyone around avoided her like the plauge.

A small crackling caught the attention of Kate's pointed ear. It can't be... She looked down. It sure was. The wooden floor board beneath her was breaking. Kate closed her eyes and grimaced as it broke beneath her.

The look of mixed wonder and confusion, coupled with a lack of response, told Rask all he really needed to know. He arched and eyebrow and turned away from the other patron. "Thrice damn'd Softies don't think twice 'bout wha'they 'ear." He murmured to no one but himself. He poured the meager amount of coin onto the bar top and tallied the number up, before glancing down the bar at the barkeep, who was preoccupied wiping a glass.

"Eh now Tortise, wha'wou'ja say wou'be a cheap'n'filli-

A certain snap-crackling behind him broke his train of thought, and he glanced back over his shoulder to the sound. In a flash he was on his feet, stepping quickly over to steady the amber haired elf and pull her away from the broken floor board. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and shouted back at the barkeep. "Forget t'food eh? Just fix up t'floor!" The Gaurim-touched pulled his eyes away from the barkeep and lead the Elf away from the treacherous patch of ground.

"A'most took a'tumble'ere eh Sparrow?" He asked with a crooked smile, letting go of her once she was steady again and hopped back into his chair. "C'mon, pull up'a seat'n'I'll spot for'a meal. Music to ya?" Rask seperated the coins into a couple piles, then pushed them back together again, his eyes alight, and still on the elf.

Cadin smiled when he finally saw small houses in the distance. It was just a village, with mostly thatched roofs, and he assumed no more than one inn. But it was enough. All he needed was a room and some good food. Actually, it didn't have to be good. After years of traveling, he should have been used to the dirt and cold and all the other hardships. Still, he was always overjoyed when he reached an inn with a warm bed and some good food. Therefore, as he saw the houses and watched them grow bigger, a grin broke his weary face, and it was all he could do not to kick Moon Dance into a gallop.

The road already had an unusual amount of traffic, since Estolad was on a major road but as he got closer to the town, and inside of it, he knew this was even more than usual. Most of these people must not live here! He sighed, slightly irritated that he would have to go slowly through the traffic because of Moon Dance but quickly got over it. He was not willing to give up his horse just because he couldn’t get through the people easily. Moon Dance was the best horse he’d ever had, and she was very new still.

He patted her on the neck and kept riding. All he needed was a good inn… He wasn’t about to ask the people here, of course; many of them would be just as new as he was. He finally saw a neat sign for an inn ahead of him. It looked to be of good quality, and probably calm. It wasn't in a city so it couldn't be too expensive.

He dismounted when he got to the courtyard and handed Moon Dance to an hostler. He tossed the boy a copper piece and told him, "Take good care of her. She's a good horse." The boy nodded solemnly. Cadin sighed. Why did hostlers always seem to be boys? Did all the men die, or just quit? Exhausted, he dismissed the though and entered the inn.

He quickly located an empty chair and sat down. It was easy enough to do, since there weren't all that many people here yet. It wasn't even noon, so he truthfully couldn't expect many people to be there. His stomach grumbled and he ordered some food. Moments later, a man came and sat next to him. "So whacha'pose they charge t'feed a critter like this'ere?"

Cadin blinked, slightly confused. He worked out what had been said, for the man's words were slurred and unclear. Then he tried to decide what he was supposed to answer to that, if he should answer at all. He was too slow, or he wasn't expected to answer, because the man turned away. "Thrice damn'd Softies don't think twice 'bout wha'they 'ear." Was that spoken to him, too? Well, he wasn't facing Cadin's way, so Cadin decided to ignore it.

As the man began to order something, Cadin heard a loud crack and whirled around. A woman lay sprawled on the floor and as Cadin's brows tried to climb to his hairline, the man next to him was across the room and helping her to her feet. "A'most took a'tumble'ere eh Sparrow? C'mon, pull up'a seat'n'I'll spot for'a meal. Music to ya?" He sat her down in the chair on his other side as he spoke and he sat as well.

Licking his lips, he stared at the woman. One eye was bright green while the other was brown and her hair looked as if it had been slept in and not brushed. He easily ignored that, though, and glued his eyes on her ears. Her pointed ears. An elf. He told himself that she wouldn't do anything, that she was not harmful. Still, he could not hold back his fear of magic. Magical beings, of course, felll under that category.

It was a foolish thing to be afraid of, he knew it. He could do magic himself, of course, if he tried, but he did not. And he couldn't choose his fears. They just were. He swallowed hard and tried to pull his eyes away, but could not do it.

Kate sighed slowly, looking away before glancing up at the man offering his hand. She took it clumsily, trying to steady herself as she tried to tie down her messy hair with her hands, brushing it back just enough to expose the half-elven ears that caused her a variety of troubles wherever she went. The hair just fell into place, again, and she practically missed the man's speach; she was drawn to it, however, since it was so slurred and accented. She cocked her head quietly and her lips opened a bit, opened wider as if to say something, and then they closed again, her mind trying to comprehend what he had said. Sparrow...sparrow? Meal? Yes. He had said SOMETHING about a meal, but she couldn't quite figure out what. Unsure of what to do, she decided to go with a simple answer that might get her out of this mess or carry her into deeper trouble: "S-sure..."

Hugging herself insecurely, she ducked her head, silently scanning the area before spotting a peculiar gaze from one of the few customers; he wasn't that hard to spot, since there was so little people, but his look was really uncomfortable. Hugging herself tighter, she looked back at the first man and shuddered quietly. Was it her ears? Or...wait, had he licked his lips? Kate's eyes widened; "Um..." she couldn't help but murmer, slightly disturbed with the whole situation.

This was like the time with those mermaids. But WORSE.

"It'll b'a'pleasure for this'un, don'cha worry y'reself 'bout t'cost a'right Sparrow?" Rask smiled a benevolent, albiet crooked, smile, and turned towards in the inn keeper, who had been walking to check on the floor. "Eh, Tortise, y'wanna grab tha'meals? Just t'special. T'Snake'n'Sparrow'd 'preciate it." The innkeep looked at him and shook his head, and shuffled back behind the bar again, calling for the meals.

"S'where y'from? Wha'brings y'here?" Sidewinder asked, by way of small talk.

The man's friendliness helped tame her palpitating heart. Kate gave a healf hearted smile.
"It'll b'a'pleasure for this'un, don'cha worry y'reself 'bout t'cost a'right Sparrow?"
So he did call her Sparrow. Kate wasn't quite sure what he meant to infer by calling her Sparrow, but it was a sobreque she could deal with.
The man called out something at the barkeep that Kate didn't bother to register. She brushed some brown hair out of her eyes and looked around again. She didn't know how to respond to the less than negative reaction. It was unusual to say the least.
"S'where y'from? Wha'brings y'here?"
Kate bit her tounge for a second, trying to think of how she could respond. Although it was not an uncommon inquiry, her life wasn't exactly easy to explain.
"Well, my parents kind of abandon me when I was twelve and since then I've..." Kate searched for the right word, "traveled. And this is just one of the cozier towns my travels have taken me."
Maybe she should say more. Should she? Kate contemplated.
"I'm sort of trying to find something else to occupy myself with before I'm...ostracized. Again."
There. Kate was satisfied with her reply.

Rask's stomach growled auidibly in anticipation of the food. He couldn't (clearly) remember the last time he had eaten anything, let alone a good meal cooked up from the an Inn. Usually, on the road at least, it consisted of whatever he could catch turned into a simple stew: Rabbit, chicken... Squirrel.

And with food on the mind, Rask was in his usual uplifted, somewhat optimistic mood, so the young woman's respose to his question seemd a little out of place. His nose wrinkled in a look of distaste at her abandonment, and fear of being outcast. He frowned a bit as he replied. "Now whacha mean'bout y'ma leavin' y't'fend for y'self tha'young? Seems a'lil odd t'this'un'ere. Y'were still just'a pup, eh Sparrow? Why'd she do it?" He scratched his neck thoughtfully and glanced past her to see if the food was on its way yet. It wasn't. "Was'there some bigger critter'roud?"

The concept of parental abandonment, especially by your mother, was foriegn to Rask. Being raised in the desert far from other people, particularly the concept of civilization, lead Rask to have a different outlook on life and familiy. He was raised as a pup, basically, speaking only very basic common with his mother, a werejackal who'd been away from civilization long enough to forget the langauge. His father, however, was a nonexistant figure. She'd never bothered to explain who he was, and Rask had never cared too much to find out. There'd always been something to do, fetch water while she hunted, help stretch the hides of creatures to tan them, naps to take, swims in the oasis to have. His childhood had been remarkably blemish free, and when he came of age, late teens in his case, he was guided to another oasis and told to start his life there. Even after the seperation Rask would bump into her in the desert, and at those times, they were family again.

Thus the confusion: Why would anyone turn away thier pup so young? Rask's brow knit together, but he brushed the thought away, awaiting the answer. Surely there'll be an appropraite explanation... Surely. He distracted himself by craning his neck, checking for the food again. And once more there was no sign of if. He slumped back into the chair. "Might'hafta t'go catch'a squirrel," he muttered quietly to himself.

Cadin watched the pair interact with each other, the girl a little nervouse and confused looking, the man rather... animal-like, actually. If not that, than just very drunk. He listened to them converse, though in truth he was actually listening to a monologue of the girl. He couldn't understand the man's awkward speech.

Sparrow. That seemed to be the girl's name. That's what the man was calling her, anyway. But she didn't act like she knew him, and if she didn't know him, it was logical that he wouldn't know her, either. Was it not? It was... it must be... Then why was he calling her Sparrow? And why did she not correct her. Maybe he'd heard of her before.

Cadin's food came, and he smiled as he recieved it and thanked the serving girl. He didn't start eating, however. First he listened with interest to the girl's much-shortened life story. Well, he began to listen with interest. Then he blushed and stared at his plate. It sounded a lot like what he had done to a girl named Jaisi, once. True, Jaisi had been older and well able to care for herself and he was not her mother. Yet, it shamed him to no end that he could be as cold-hearted as this girl's parents apparently were. He got afraid when he learned that Jaisi could do magic, and left.

Was that why Sparrow's parents had abandoned her? No, surely not. He was probably the only person in the world afraid of magic. It was embarassing to be afraid of such a common thing. He wished with all his heart he could change it. And he was working at it... After all, he was sitting not ten feet from an elf.

He focused on the man speaking. He was speaking of... pups? Wait. He was talking about Sparrow. Like she was a dog. He blinked. Well, maybe the man was not drunk after all. Maybe he was part animal. He certainly spoke that way, and even looked a little that way. Was Sparrow used to this? He peered at her out of the corner of his eye but he didn't notice her expression changing.

Kate sighed, but looked away from the bizarre man; her brown hair frizzed down her back, and she was notably embarassed by this whole situation. When her eyes began to wander, she locked her gaze with that of the man, the licking-lips man, once again; this time, though, the leer lingered a bit longer, but ended abruptly when Kate found herself blushing, embarassed that he was probably noticing her discolored eyes. Focusing once again on the "drunken" man before her, her head ducked a bit lower in shame, clearly not comfortable with her past or her present, or her future, at that, and was just not comfortable with her life. Oh well.

"Well, y'see, my parents..." She paused, sighing and adding a bit of an uncomfortable roll to her shoulders as if to shake an awful feeling, "They...well, let's just say they thought of me as bad luck. Well, not BAD luck, well, yes, bad luck. They didn't like me, let's put it that way. So, just one day, I was going on a trip with them and they left me. It was...well, I can kind of see why they would do that. I'd probably end up killing both of them through some stupidity...um, yeah..."

Contrary to popular belief, Rask wasn't drunk. This was a Rask, in fact, that was all but recovered from a pretty nasty hangover from the night before. It was as the man next to him surmised: That he was simply a wilder being, with a different mind set from the urban folk. Sparrow was not Sparrow because her name was Sparrow, Sparrow was Sparrow because Rask thought of her as a Sparrow. Names were always lost on him, they didn't make sense and more often than not, were too complicated.

Most of the common tongue, in Rask's opinion, was too complicated. The words were too long, too complex, and the so-called rules of speech were so binding and constrictive, he wondered how anyone could truely master the tongue. Orcish he could get with, simple and to the point. Dwarven wasn't too far off, but far more ridgid. And Elven: Elven just made him die a little inside. It was this impatience with language that lead to what some of his past travelling companions dubbed 'Raskisms', what they defined as 'the slow butcher of the common tongue, for the betterment of Rask'.

Finally the meals came, plates heaped with meats, vegetable and potato. Rask poked at the latter two unenthusiastically, before slicing off a piece of meat and skewering it, gesturing with it to the young woman next to him. "Ba'luck eh?" He replied, musing over the idea. "A'pup's all sort'a'trouble eh Sparrow, but'I can't say I've 'eard o'one tha's ba'luck."

Past the young woman he could see another fellow, listening but trying not to be seen listening. And that was fair enough. The Gods only knew how many times Rask had heard conversations he shouldn't have. But regardless, the one called Sidewinder adressed the fellow anyways. "Whatcha'pose counts'as ba'luck there Lynx? Or're y'all ears'n'no tongue?" He inquired with a crooked smile.

Cadin frowned. Her parents thought she was bad luck, so they just abandoned her? That was... terrible! How could they have had a child when they so clearly did not deserve one? Or want one, apparently? He ignored the voice in the back of his head, saying something about Jaisi and... well, he wouldn't listen, anyway. He would have covered his ears if he thought it would do any good.

He no longer felt like eating at all, but he listened intently to the man. He blinked when he heard something about Lynx. Lynx? Who was that? He started to look around, but caught the eyes of the man. He was looking straight at him.

Me? he mouthed, surprized. He-- Cadin-- was being called Lynx, obviously, but he had to wonder: why? Giving a mental shrug he took a breath and said, "Bad luck? I- I'm not sure what counts as bad luck. Magic certainly doesn't though." He gave a thoughful look as he silently added, Not really, anyway. Magic is more of a means to an end, not the end itself. And I guess it depends on how you use the magic, too.

He considered, and then added the last out loud. It made sense, right? "If the magic was used in a bad way, I guess it could be bad luck. Otherwise, its just magic." Now he wasn't making much sense to himself. Just magic? And he sounded... calm. He would do better to just shut his mouth now, so he did.

He did not turn back to his food, however. He looked at the man a while longer, carefully avoiding Sparrow's face, for he knew his eyes would drift to her ears.

"This'ere fellah sounds'bout right eh Sparrow?" Rask replied, spearing a sizable chunk of meat on his fork and chomping it down. He swallowed hard and cut another piece. The luxury of meat that wasn't dried or jerked wasn't one Sidewinder got to enjoy often in the heat of the desert. Especially one juicy like this piece. The Gaurim touched one could feel the saliva pooling on his tongue and gobbled the second piece down greedily.

As he chewed he pointed the fork at Lynx, swallowing the piece of meat. "See, I'agree with y'ere, magic's best left t'the Owls. Crafty wise'uns they're, all sorts o'tricky'n'such. Got thi'scar from one o'em tha'put me throu'a wall." What Rask didn't mention was that perhaps he deserved it. The scars bloomed from the center of his back, where he initially struck the wall, and was pushed through. He was just thankful it hadn't been a fire spell. That would've been far worse.

Especially for one as hairy as he.

Rask speared a vegetable and crunched on it thoughtfully, tucking it into a cheek before speaking. "Whatcha think Sparrow, 'bout what Lynx had t'say?"