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 | | From: | stormaf | | Subject: | Winter Celebrations - LTMB thread 2 - Predator | | Date: | 26 Dec 2004 22:11:59 -0800 |
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 | The cold seeped into his bones and his apricot blond hair was frozen
now in places where the snow had fallen and melted before. He needed
to feed and he had to find a place to stay. A night in an alley
wasn't unfamiliar to him, but he still didn't like it. This place was
a far cry from the sultry heat of the south from whence he hailed.
Ajali stamped his feet against the chill that bedeviled him. The
hunger was like an itch he couldn't scratch, not yet anyway. From his
alley hide-away, he could see people going to and fro, laughing and
holding hands, carrying wrapped things and what seemed to be food.
Some passed quite close by and never knew the danger that waited in
the shadows.
It was now or never, he thought, and he ventured out into the street,
keeping to the walls of the buildings and brushing by the evergreen
boughs. Every time a person passed by, he caught the sharp tang of
warm blood pulsing through their veins, so near and yet so far.
He staggered slightly. The passage from the south had been hard for
him and life aboard ship wasn't ideal, but the food source was captive
and he never took more than he needed, and generally he fed from
willing ladies. He hadn't yet gained his land legs, he thought wryly.
Pulling his thin jacket closer about his tall and well-built frame, he
headed for the area where he could see many people gathered. It
looked very much like a souk, a marketplace, and it would provide
better hunting for him. There were always ladies and sometimes
gentlemen who were lonely enough to seek the company of an attractive
stranger. And then he might feed.
The market was so busy! Musicians, merchants and hawkers were all
vying for the attention of passers-by. Carelya's eyes were wide, as
if she couldn't open them enough to take in all of the sights at once.
Her family seldom came in from their huge cattle and horse ranch.
Servants made the long trip into Montfort once every two weeks for
supplies and the only other time Carelya had the opportunity to see
the big town was when she was too sick to enjoy it. Since the healer
on the ranch was very good, and she had only been too ill for his
ministrations once, she hadn't had very many chances to go to town.
Now, at the ripe old age of eighteen, her parents had seen fit to
bring her in for the Winter Solstice festivities.
It was well worth the wait. There was a man selling hot cider in one
booth and another extolled the virtues of his many types of rope.
Why, one weave could hold an elephant! How remarkable, Carelya
thought. Where in the Lady's Name had he found an elephant to try it
on around here?
And there were so many different looking people! There was a lady
whose skin was all black from head to toe and a man with great horns
coming from his head! Holy Lady's Name, that must be the sheriff,
sire Wintermane! How incredible, she thought.
Musicians of every ilk tramped through the snow treating the market
goers to songs of romance and love thwarted, deeds of derring-do and
chivalrous magic. It was a banquet for the ears and eyes. There went
some acrobats, cartwheeling and backflipping across the street,
followed by a wonderful juggler! Her nanny tugged at her arm.
"Come along dearie," Nanny Wilsy crooned, "You're gawping like some
rube off a farm."
Carelya replied with a giggle, "Nanny, really, I _am_ some rube off a
farm," the girl's eyes rounded, "Oooh, Nanny look! A seller of
toffee!"
Carelya turned her green eyes on her nanny and gave a pretty moue, "I
would love some toffee. Nanny? Please?"
The old lady melted under the pleading gaze of her lovely charge,
"It's fine with me, dearie, but the ones to convince are your parents.
‘Tis they who hold the money belt."
Red curls bouncing on the fur collar of her coat, Carelya ran ahead to
her mother, "Momma! Please wait up!"
Madam Taverish stopped and waited for her beloved daughter who
galloped up to her with all the grace of a gazelle, her russet hair
askew and no hat.
"Child, where is your hat?" she asked.
Beaming a smile at her mother, the girl replied, "I gave it to Nanny
to hold. The darned thing kept falling off."
Her mother ran a hand over Carelya's mane of hair, "But it did look so
beautiful on you."
"Only if it would stay on, Momma," Carelya countered, "May I have some
money for Nanny and I to spend?"
Father Taverish gave a low chuckle, "She's got you there Loral, hats
do need to stay put to look like anything." He dug into his belt
pouch for a few golds and handed them to his wife, "Take some for your
own shopping and give Carelya two of them. Perhaps she may find a
better hat."
Loral gave her husband a wry look, "Another riding hat, I take it?"
She clucked her tongue disapprovingly.
Carelya's eyes gleamed. A brand new hat! How perfect! Maybe even a
woolen scarf so that she could spend more time riding the ranch with
the hands. She would see that colt grow and not miss a single minute.
In the spring she could break him and perhaps her parents would let
her keep him instead of selling him off with the rest of the
yearlings.
Her mother dropped two golds into her palm, "Spend them wisely," she
warned.
"Oh thank you! You're the best parents a girl could ever have!"
Carelya ran back to her Nanny and showed her the money.
"Hunter's Grace, child, what do they expect you to buy? Another
farm?" Nanny chuckled dryly.
"Now we can go and get some toffee, Nanny," Carelya said, "And I want
to go to that dry goods merchant's to find a hat and a scarf."
"All right dearie, just don't run so far ahead of your old Nanny now."
Carelya ignored her, just as the older lady expected she would.
Headstrong and wild, the girl was as lovely as a wildflower and just
about as happy at being kept in a glass vase. She would make some
young lord a fine wife someday. Her parents had raised a fine mind, a
caring person and a girl as good at taking lumps as she was at dishing
them out. Many a randy young ranch hand had found that out to their
misery.
Past the booths with rolls of cloth and the stink of newly tanned
hides Carelya strode, head high judging the materials and their
sellers with a critical eye. Her senses were assaulted by the many
scents of the market, a heady brew at the best of times, but now the
smell of baked sausage and honey rolls, pies and cooking meat tumbled
about with all of the other less savory aromas of sweaty men and
horses, too much perfume and magical potions.
She was a good distance ahead of Nanny Wilsy when she spotted her
objective; the woolen merchant with his fine fabrics. Stepping out of
the snow and onto the loosely laid floor boards, she walked to the
racks of lovely scarves and matching hats. Some were meant for mere
decoration and these she turned her nose up at. She knew a good scarf
and hat when she saw one! To her left she noticed a rack of
not-so-thin hard-wearing garments and made her way over.
The merchant was hard at work trying to convince a regal looking lady
that a particular lacework scarf would be just the thing for her next
soiree. Carelya would have more than enough time to push through the
heavy scarves and jackets. She could afford two new outfits and still
have enough money left for toffee for herself and Nanny if she
bargained well. When she found a jet black scarf, its ends thick with
tassels, she shoved the rest aside for a better look.
Doing so allowed her to see the alleyway in front of the stall and
there doddered Nanny Wilsy right on time. Behind the old lady there
strolled someone else and Carelya forgot all about the black scarf
that trailed through her fingers.
How such a beautiful young man had escaped the clutches of the local
girls she wondered. His apricot blond hair straggled over and below
his shoulders, not long enough to be considered ladylike but longer
than that worn by many of the local men. That he was taller than most
was obvious and he seemed pale.
The closer he came the better was her view. He must be searching for
someone; perhaps a lost lady friend? Carelya mourned. He was
probably taken by some wealthy young lady. His type usually was.
Every time the ranch had been visited by the gentry, there had been a
couple of his kind in tow. Favorites of the mistresses, she'd been
told.
His apparel was odd. It was ill-fit for this weather, this she could
tell, as the young man shivered every so often and he looked
miserable. She could see his jaws clicking together, why the poor
thing was freezing to death!
Without further ado, Carelya let the scarf slide through her hands and
she headed for the alley. She passed Nanny Wilsy on the way in.
"Dearie, where are you going now?" the old lady queried.
"I'll be right back," Carelya told her, "I'm about to do a good deed."
Nanny's face screwed up in confusion and she turned to follow the girl
with her bleary eyes.
Her quarry, the young man, had ambled a few stalls further down when
she caught up with him. She skipped in front of him and brought him
to a surprised halt.
As near as she was now, she could tell how thin the fabric of his
jacket was. The silk shirt underneath wasn't much better and she was
certain that the pants were also made of a thicker silk. Expensive,
but hardly the type of clothing to wear in a Montfort winter. She
looked up into startled blue eyes under arching brows. He was so
handsome that for once in her life, she was at a loss for words.
The man tilted his head at her and asked, "Yes, my lady, is there
something that I may help you with?"
His voice was everything that she had hoped for. Cultured and
precise, his tone was a joy to hear, it sent tingles down her spine.
"Ah, pardon me, my lord," Carelya ventured, "But I do not believe that
you are from Montfort. Are you lost? Do you search for your people?"
Ajali relaxed. His prospects were now looking up. The young lady in
front of him was quite lovely and from her dress he could tell that
she was wealthy. Having her as a patroness would not be a chore. Her
blood ran hot in her veins. She had never been taken or tasted.
"You are a very astute person, my lady," he remarked with a slight
quirk of his lips, "I am not from Montfort. I am not lost because I
have only just arrived. I haven't been here long enough to consider
myself lost yet."
His smile was catchy and Carelya returned it, "Are you staying here
with friends? Have you taken lodging yet?"
Carelya reddened at her presumptuousness, "Excuse me, but I am being
very rude and nosy," she straightened her shoulders, "But I can see
that you are cold and I thought I could help you."
Despite himself, Ajali shivered and pulled his jacket closer to no
avail, "I have no friends here, nor do I have lodging. The coach
dropped me off at the gate. I am a visitor taking in the sights."
Her hands on her hips, Carelya frowned, "You won't see much if you
wind up with the chills or the cracking cough. You're freezing to
death where you stand."
She offered him her hand and with only a moment's hesitation, he took
it and gently draped it over his arm as a courtly escort would. She
led him to the dry goods merchant's stall.
Nanny frowned fiercely when Carelya returned on a young man's arm,
"Dearie, what on earth are you doing?"
"Now Nanny," Carelya replied, "This young gentleman is new in town and
as you can see, he is certainly not dressed for the weather. I'm sure
I can spare a few coins to get him a decent jacket and the Lady will
bless my kindness to a stranger."
"Well, then," Nanny mumbled, "We all should do one good deed daily,
they say." She eyeballed the stranger grimly. My goodness, he was a
looker. Made her wish she was forty years younger just to stand near
him.
Ajali stood his ground, "I wish to apologize for my rudeness. I am
Ajali ben azBirun, lately from the Southern Counties. Your kind
charge found me on the street and is concerned that I might catch
cold."
"I am Carelya Taverish," Carelya stated, "And this is Nanny Wilsy, my
chaperone and good friend."
Disentangling his arm from hers, Ajali sketched a bow to the nanny and
caught her hand up to his lips, "My pleasure good lady Wilsy. And my
thanks for raising such a well-meaning young woman."
He turned to Carelya and brushed her fingers with a light kiss as
well, "I am in your service, kind Lady Carelya."
As he stood up again, his teeth clattered together and a shiver
traveled along his frame. Carelya took his arm again and practically
pulled him over to the heavy woolen jackets.
"I can't help you much with those trousers," she blushed prettily,
"But I can get you into a better coat."
Releasing him, she flipped through the jackets scrutinizing each one
and then comparing it to Ajali's tall, athletic frame. Finally she
pulled one from its hanger and held it up to his chest. The merchant
hurried over.
"Can I help you good people?" he inquired.
Carelya asked, "Is this made by the northern Clan?"
"Why, yes, my lady! You have a fine eye for a garment."
Ignoring the merchant's spiel, Carelya held the jacket for Ajali to
slip his arms in. When he turned about, Carelya held her breath. It
was a wonderful fit and complimented him greatly. The light brown
weave held a lovely blue fleck in it that brought out his eyes.
Ajali thought that the jacket was sent from whatever demon looked out
for his kind. Warmth seemed woven right into the fabric. His legs
were still chilled, but when his benefactor wrapped the matching scarf
around his neck, he sighed with relief. At least some parts of him
were warm.
While Nanny dickered with the merchant, Carelya searched about for
mitts. Her new friend had long hands with strangely long fingernails
that required a certain type of fabric; warm yet sturdy. When she
came upon a pair, she fit them on his hands and some of the shivering
ceased. Jamming a woolen hat on his blond head was the next step in
her crusade and eventually a much more comfortable man stood in front
of her.
The entire ensemble cost only slightly less than her coin, allowing
her a new hat and scarf but no toffee. The trade off was worth it.
Now her fellow ladies-in-waiting would see her on the arm of a
beautiful young man, at least for today. Or perhaps…
"We are staying at the best inn in Montfort," she informed him as they
walked arm in arm, Nanny grumbling to the rear, "The Dragon's Inn. We
have the largest suite they offer. There is plenty of room for one
more, at least until you get yourself settled in a room of your own."
Ajali well knew the effect he was having on his young lady friend.
She was probably already planning to take him to her bed, although her
type usually took some time to come to that decision. He would need
to feed from livestock again this evening, or slip out and take a
street walker unawares. As long as magicians didn't sniff him out, he
would be fine and no one would ever be the wiser.
Carelya chattered at his side, pointing out all of the stalls and what
they sold, showing him the strolling entertainers and animal acts. He
steadfastly ignored the pulse that throbbed so close to him, the blood
that warmed her body, the essence that he craved.
Blithely, he strolled along, the perfect escort and not a care in the
world until from behind him he heard a voice raised in angry
accusation, "Halt! Unholy creature that you are! The undead are not
welcome in Montfort! Drinker of blood, I cast you out!"
Ajali froze in horror.
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| | From: | Blake Sinclair | | Subject: | Re: Winter Celebrations - LTMB thread 2 - Predator | | Date: | Tue, 28 Dec 2004 04:47:35 GMT |
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> Blithely, he strolled along, the perfect escort and not a care in the
> world until from behind him he heard a voice raised in angry
> accusation, "Halt! Unholy creature that you are! The undead are not
> welcome in Montfort! Drinker of blood, I cast you out!"
>
> Ajali froze in horror.
The crowd perked up and moved back, instinctually creating a ring around the
man who'd spoken and Ajali. Hair that matched the snow lay upon shoulders
that remained broad despite the man's advancing years. His tradesman
clothes were simple but well-cared for as he pointed a calloused hand at
Ajali and fixed him with the uncanny milky stare of the blind.
"By the Redeemer I shall see you Cleansed with fire you monster!"
Most of the crowd seemed to chuckle and shake their heads, but few of them
looked closely at Ajali as if uncertain.
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| | From: | Robin Banco | | Subject: | Re: Winter Celebrations - LTMB thread 2 - Predator | | Date: | Tue, 28 Dec 2004 06:51:08 GMT |
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| "By the Redeemer I shall see you Cleansed with fire you monster!"
Most of the crowd seemed to chuckle and shake their heads, but few of them
looked closely at Ajali as if uncertain.
Vance froze, his fingers only a paper-width away from a fat purse when the
cry first went up and everyone around him tensed. For a second he was
horribly certain that someone had seen... that he was caught and would be
subjected to unspeakable terrors in the town's dungeons - for did not every
town have dungeons? - then with a feeling of immeasurable relief, realized
the old fellow was talking to some highborn in the crowd. A highborn - and
this was the important part - on the opposite side of him from Vance.
Maybe, maybe... Just maybe Vance was about to get some good luck for a
change. While the crowd was ogling the scene on the other side of the road,
the young thief made off with not one, but three purses.
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