"Good evening to you both. Don't mind my friend. She doesn't deal much with people unless they happen to be at the pointed end of her weapon. As for asinine and meaningless conversation, I think introductions are in order. I am Lyra,"

Altair was fairly amused, but mostly suspicious. He had seen these two, Demetri had pointed them out on the ship and the half-elf had been convinced that there was a reason he kept bumping into this particular one, this Lyra. The other one though, for some reason, dressed up inconspicuously like a boy. This disguise was meant to fool people, no doubt, but it could not fool Altair. He was someone whom was no stranger to disguise and an aspect of his profession clearly demanded him to be able to distinguish one person from another, no matter what he or she is wearing.

“Don't mind my friend. She doesn't deal much with people unless they happen to be at the pointed end of her weapon,”

Altair let out a small but acknowledging laugh to this particular comment.

“That’s something I can relate to,” he said, softly but clearly audible.

He sat back against the cushioned seat and watched them with interest, noticing how uncomfortable they felt, well, mostly Lyra, and he wondered why. Their paths obviously led to the same destination and she had been right in attempting to dispel the air of uncertainty as they embark on a perilous and long journey to Nijon.

A little conversation would not hurt and Altair, despite how the other three felt, was completely at ease for the first time in a long time.

"I believe asinine and meaningless conversation is usually left for women."

Oh, so he's one of those, Myrnal thought. She mulled over his words while he answered Minshara, trying to keep her mouth shut about it. But really... Myrnal was often gruff with her friends. She had no reason to treat this jackass with kid gloves if he were going to make broad-reaching disrespectful statements about her sex.

Ordinarily, Myrnal herself preferred the casual company of guys to the company of women. There was something about sitting down and having a beer with her mercenary friends that going shopping with a girl didn't quite match. This did not mean, by any stretch of the imagination, that Myrnal thought men were better-suited for social contact with other people. To the contrary, Myrnal had had too many conversations with men about fishing, money, and ex-lovers to believe they were any more profound or expressive than women.

In fact, that very quality was what Myrnal appreciated. As long as emotional or, gods forbid, physical intimacy wasn't expected by either side, Myrnal was more comfortable with men. Other than her dearest friends, men as a rule didn't ask questions she'd have to answer with lies. The asinine and superficial quality of most conversations she had with strange men was comforting when it wasn't an annoyance.

Right now? It was an annoyance. Myrnal did idly wonder whether this guy even made comments like that to women he was trying to sleep with. She quickly dismissed the possibility due to a strong suspicion that if he did... he'd be speaking at least an octave or two higher by now.

By the time he asked them about their trip to Nijon, Myrnal had resolved to finally answer him.

"Y'know, friend," Myrnal began. "You're lucky I'm such a nice woman. A remark like that could get you in real trouble with someone less kind and generous than myself." She stretched out her arms, weaving her fingers together and cracking them before returning them to their position at the back of her neck.

"A remark like that to the wrong woman could entice her to abandon meaningless feminine attempts at conversation in favor of an overwhelming desire to knock your nuts into your nostrils."

She brought one hand forward again, enjoying Demetri's attempts to keep track of all movement from his potential enemies. She held one finger up for emphasis, as if calling the heavens themselves as her witness. "But! Despite what my companion might tell you, I have excellent social skills, and generally don't resort to violence until the second remark like that."

A lazy, lop-sided grin spread over her face, the casual kind that only her closest friends and hated foes learned to see for the warning sign it was. For everyone else, sometimes it was comforting, sometimes alarming... but it was always a lie. "First one is a freebie, because I'm so wonderfully giving. I'm veritably hemorrhaging generosity over here. Don't waste it by being an ass unless you want to be told to your face that's what you are."

Altair raised a questioning eyebrow when Demetri made that particular comment which he considered pointless and sexist, even if Demetri did suspect them to be in league with his pursuers.

The one called Myrnal had gone off on him, in a vehement display of diatribe which could make any man wince and regret his words.

He was going to speak up, to calm the proverbial storm when the smaller one, Lyra whom he considered to be quietly beautiful in her own right, spoke up, defusing the volatile situation with a few carefully placed words.

Altair sighed, as Lyra explained her reasons for heading towards Nijon and decided that as long as this trip was going to be, it would be even longer if the air of silence settled and the window of opportunity passed by forever.

Softly but clearly, Altair said, “I have heard about your country Miss Lyra and I go to it now, to see it with my own eyes. I have seen many things, marvelous cities and Nijon is one place I have yet to step foot in,”

A lie, not terribly good but it sufficed. It was simple without contradictions and Altair didn’t require anymore prodding into his businesses there. At the very least, he’d appear like a tourist and with any luck, might enlist this Lyra, without her consciously knowing, to aid him in his search for Talia Raven.

As a child, Demetri had been raised only by his mother, and under the constant care of his mother, he had learned to appreciate and respect women, usually more so than he did men. He was not himself, of course. For one thing, he had not taken the herbs provided by Lyra, so during the night he had been plagued by memories of the fateful night of leaving his mother to her death or imprisonment and even more dreams of her crawling from the ground and covered with maggots. He was extremely irritable when he did not have his sleep inducing medicine.

All meaningless conversation was useless. Always. When there was no need for words than words should not be spoken. People should speak only when they had something important to say. His mother had always told him that he had one mouth, and two ears; listen twice as much as you speak. To speak when there was not any point in speaking was being foolish and it was a waste of breath.

If he enjoyed these women’s company, he would have treated them with more respect. He was being paranoid, but he had every right to be paranoid. Both of them were full of lies and he wouldn’t doubt it if they’re mission to Nijon was not a benevolent one as Lyra stated that it was.

"Y'know, friend," The boyish woman began. "You're lucky I'm such a nice woman. A remark like that could get you in real trouble with someone less kind and generous than myself." Demetri almost laughed at hearing that, only a small smirk coming to his face as he watched her crack her knuckles. If that was her attempt at being intimidating, than someone was doing a horrible job."A remark like that to the wrong woman could entice her to abandon meaningless feminine attempts at conversation in favor of an overwhelming desire to knock your nuts into your nostrils."

Threats got nowhere with Demetri, and the same silent coldness was the only in-verbal remark that could be seen coming from him. "But! Despite what my companion might tell you, I have excellent social skills, and generally don't resort to violence until the second remark like that." He was wondering if he should come up with another insult just so that he could kill them and have no more worries, but before he could say anything, Myrnal continued."First one is a freebie, because I'm so wonderfully giving. I'm veritably hemorrhaging generosity over here. Don't waste it by being an ass unless you want to be told to your face that's what you are."

In all fairness, Demetri believed that the Myrnal was putting up a large fair of breath on him. He had already started to ignore her; she said nothing important enough except useless threats.

Lyra placed a hand on Myrnal's forearm, "Forget it, Myrnal. It's going to be a long journey... perhaps longer than we imagined." She spoke gently but firmly. "And this isn't worth the energy spent." At least Lyra had some common sense. He wasn’t at all in the mood for a fight, however who was ever in the mood to fight except lunatics and fools?

"I am glad that you are so." The woman could control himself, he would give her that, but behind those blue eyes, he knew. He looked away from her and to the outside. He had had enough of useless chit chat for now. Perhaps when they said something interesting or another threat, would he give them attention; whether his reaction would be hostile or genial.

"I am Nijonese," she smiled, "That fact doesn't escape most people. I have been away from Nijon for almost a decade and thought it was time for me to return to my homeland. I have family and business to see to.  Myrnal is my retainer. It is her responsibility to keep me safe." He had seen Nijonese before in his time at Narim, however the ones he had seen were usually men and a little rougher than the delicate woman before him. It had been a mistake to overlook that fact. Although, it felt wrong, what she said. Something that Demetri could not quite place at first.

Softly but clearly, Altair said, “I have heard about your country Miss Lyra and I go to it now, to see it with my own eyes. I have seen many things, marvelous cities and Nijon is one place I have yet to step foot in,” Demetri knew that that remark was a lie. Some places were better left unseen and Demetri had a feeling that Altair’s reason for going to Nijon was a little darker.

And as Lyra and Altair exchanged conversation, Demetri drifted into his own memories. Of Narim, of his original home, of what it would be like to go back. He wanted to try to find his mother, but instead he always found himself being pulled in the wrong direction. Maybe it was high time he put a foot down and take charge of his life.

Lyra pulled him from his thoughts, and wearily, Demetri looked over to her,"Perhaps you would be so kind as to allow us a name we can refer to you by. Honestly, it's slightly odd referring to you mentally as 'the human male' and 'the half-elf'." Then with a playful smile, "It doesn't even have to be real. Just allow us a point of reference." She yawned, and after a moment of silence, Demetri spoke.

“Demetri Ferrinex.” Simply put and simply executed. No hint of hostility or anger behind his voice.

Altair paused as Lyra asked for his name. She had clearly stated that it didn’t matter if the name he offered was false which led him to wonder if her name was indeed Lyra and not something else. And if it was merely a moniker she chose, it was fairly obvious that her purpose in Nijon were far more symbolical than what she declared.

Still, it mattered little to Altair. He shall call her by whatever name she chooses for herself and the same went for her retainer, the sharp tongued female named Myrnal. Occasional he caught her staring daggers at Demetri but that may just be imagination on his part. The lithe young woman was no doubt a capable warrior, judging from the way she spoke and carried herself.

The air was thick with uncertainty and both women eyed them with suspicion and caution while Demetri did the same. Whatever their reasons were, it must be substantial enough to rally their paranoia. Yet, Altair knew that if faced in a similar situation, where the person in front of him was a potential enemy, his every action would be forced and not this casual.

If the women did turn out to be spies or assassins, they will be dealt with quickly, but at the moment, neither presented a palpable threat which begged for attention. Subtlety was the key here and Altair was more than comfortable being in this position.

A thousand names flooded his mind and he waded through each one, attempting to locate something suitable to give to Lyra.

Angelus, Christian, Erik, Dante…

“Altair,” he said, “My name is Altair and it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lyra, and your retainer as well,”

No matter how he tried, he can never be called by another name. His name bore the significance his mother accorded him and everyday he bears that name, he honors her memory and that is something Altair, can never relinquish.

The journey was smooth, albeit for a few rough moments. Soon, they will enter the Quegan jungle and the dense foliage will sprawl about them. He knew the dangers of the Quegan, of the many races that now make this unconquerable land their home.

Orcs and goblins and Spiders and more often than not, something in between.

“I do hope the both of you can fight,” Altair said, “We will be entering the Quegan soon enough and I doubt we will have a pleasant journey throughout. Orcs and Goblins litter every nook and cranny and it is best we are on our guard at all times,”