"Excuse me..."

Myrnal found a welcome escape from her conversation at the intrusion of the elven woman. Her first thought was, Is she okay? and her second was, Wow, she's... kind of pretty.

"Tell this woman sitting next to me that when everything in her life is f$&%ed up that the worst possible thing she can do is pretend that nothing is wrong and slip into the shadows, no matter how good she is at doing it!"

Hakaril's words came like a knife to the chest. That was exactly what she was doing, and whether he understood why the fact that he understood that much at all... it came as something of a painful shock.

She couldn't expect to hide from him that things were currently a little out of her control but to hear him lay it out that way was like having her skin torn off. That was enough. She had to stop this. He was getting too close and he needed to be stopped. She needed to think of some way to shut him up. When Ana'e stirred her resolve for a counterattack, Myrnal halted. She sat perfectly still and listened to Ana'e with growing relief.

"Whether you have or not, you must be an idiot to think that crude language and belligerent bullying will do her any good at all."

Grateful that someone else was fighting for her right to be left alone, Myrnal noted the irony in Ana'e's words. It wasn't really Myrnal that needed protection here. It was Hakaril. He thought he wanted to help her, but eventually he would realize he'd made a mistake. He'd regret his own folly and perhaps by then it would be too late. They'd get to Tarsis, something would go wrong, Hakaril would be stuck with her with nowhere else to go and he'd be there when everything fell apart. He'd be caught in the collapse and it would be her fault. Something horrible always happened to everyone who went out of their way for Myrnal, almost without exception. Hakaril didn't deserve that.

If nothing else, Myrnal had found an ally in her quest to protect a friend from the crashing vortex of suffering Myrnal carried everywhere. Small kindnesses went a long way with Myrnal and she was glad of Ana'e's presence.

That is, until Myrnal noticed her own gratitude and recoiled from it instinctively. Whether she knew it or not, Ana'e had placed herself squarely in Myrnal's deluded line of fire. Ana'e probably understood why Myrnal had been refusing to share information. Ana'e was respecting Myrnal's desire to keep herself to herself and that meant the elf was placing herself in a very dangerous position.

Why is she coming to my defense? He's just going to keep babbling on about everything that's wrong with my life, and if she keeps on with this he'll do the same thing to her because Hakaril just doesn't know when to shut the hell up.

Suddenly Myrnal was caught between two people hoping to do her some good, and for her there was no more horrifying place to be.

"He... he thinks he's helping. And it doesn't work to tell him no. But thank you." Emptying another glass of rum that had... wait, how did the sailors do that, anyway? What manner of stealth bartending did they learn on these ships, and why was it better than Myrnal's formal ninja training?

Setting her cane on the floor to steady herself, Myrnal pulled herself up off her seat and took a step away from the others. With a nod to Ana'e, she turned to Hakaril. "Look. This has been wild. We should bicker over my privacy again sometime." She rolled her eyes in frustration with this whole scenario Hakaril had created. "But I really don't think we've got anything else to discuss."

“Miss,” the word was hissed at her with all the fury that she had anticipated.  She hardly winced as it brushed across her ears.  Demand an apology?  One eyebrow lifted in question.  He had demanded her assistance, and she had refused.  There was no need for apology in any of that transaction, unless it was directed to her.  Her façade continued to blossom further question.  His choice of words was blatantly intended to impress and bewilder her.  What mortal could hope to befuddle one as ancient as she?  Even a blue haired, wizard type could not fathom the vast information and knowledge that she acquired about all variety of subjects.  His supercilious position was so defined that it evoked forgotten emotions in the simple and humble Elf.  Disdain and frustration unfolded and made their mark plainly upon her face, which now held a delightful dash of scorn.

His finger made its presence known.  Her lips tightened together and her eyes grew curiously large.  Was that meant to silence her?  At this point in her relationship with the queer man, she would rather not volunteer her thoughts.  He would need to beg and flatter her for some lengthy time before she would open her mouth again.  Her brief conviction of pride had petered out.  It would be better saved for another day.  So, rather than dignify his rude gesture with a response, she plucked a piece of bread from the pile.  He had given his express permission to eat.  She thought it was the safest avenue for her to pursue.  Speaking her mind about his manner of communication would likely come to no good end.  Food was what she had come for, so food would be her preoccupation.

As he continued to enunciate what, precisely his “point” was, she tore off a piece of his crafted bread.  Her mild gaze left his accusing eyes and turned to her mundane task.  He could toss daggers her direction all evening.  They could not reach her if she kept those windows to her soul averted.  The bread he offered the crew was harder than it looked.  Perhaps it was her luck, but the majority of the loaf seemed to be composed of tough crust.  She wrenched the dough apart with noticeable effort and tugged apart another smaller piece between her teeth.  He inhaled deeply, preparing for another go.  The Elf glanced at the poor woman sitting across from her.  Was this what she had been listening to all evening?

She ground the impossible crust between her teeth with visible displeasure.  He railed on.  She offered a sympathetic look to the woman who watched this helpless conversation unfold.  He continued to badger.  Ana’e managed to swallow the lump she had formed from the rock bread.  He bemoaned the trivial nature of women.  She blinked away a retort and examined the chunk that she still held in her hand.  He stood up.

For the first time in a while, Ana’e turned her grey green gaze to him.  Her lips had curved faintly upwards, turned by the promise that he would soon be departing.  She listened patiently to this final rant.  His every word indicated that he would soon be departing her company.  With each sentence her hinting smile broadened.  No sooner had she achieved a discernable smile than he spun around and left the girls to their own devices.  Quite subconsciously she caught his last insult.  She had willingly accepted silence up until this point.  Having words thrown behind her back, however, would not be tolerated.  She sat a little straighter.

“As a matter of fact we do.  How wise of you to notice,” she called after him with a honey-drenched dryness.  “I do hope you rest well.  You’ve done such an excellent job here!”

She exhaled and all the stiff pride that had supported her fled.  Her hands, one wrapped in leather to cover the chapping skin, folded one atop the other.  Both of them grasped tightly at the head of her walking stick.  Her weight fell forward, letting them catch her weakened form.  Her eyelids fell downwards with the weight of the exasperation he had caused him.  For a moment, she appeared in every way an old lady struggling to remain upright.  Her head lifted; a smile appeared on her lips and in her cheeks.

“Miss, I hope I have not overstepped myself,” she said with a voice like baby ferns and sun drenched grass.  “I truly did not mean to anger the gentleman.  Please accept my apologies if I did anything of the sort.”

She shifted her weight around so that she more squarely faced the woman that she was speaking with.  “Now that he has left though, I would not be object if you should wish to stay.  This bread is marginally edible, if you’d like a piece.”  She offered a half smile.  The truth shone through her ill formed words.  She was in desperate need of company and did not wish to be left alone on the far side of this room of drunks.  She was the one in desperate need of company.

Ana’e moved the cane from one hand to the other.  She stretched and flexed her fingers, the skin straining and cracking in places.  She had been tenser in that moment with the blue haired mage than she had initially realized.  With a concentrated inhale, she slowed her heart and relaxed her toes.  As she exhaled, the calm expression of one ready for civilized conversation fell into place.  When the exasperation and indignation faded, her physical toils found room to make themselves known.  Her left arm folded across her chest, babying the twinges that were already blossoming.  Underneath her palm, on her shoulder she could feel fresh blood making an appearance.  She pressed slightly harder, encouraging the bandage underneath her shirt to soak it up.  Her face remained in its tranquil setting.  Only a slight flare of her nostrils hinted at the change in her emotion.  A delicate and polite smile drifted about her features, inviting the other woman to trust her.  Her eyes returned to the loaf of bread for an instant.  They turned to the crowd.  Finally they came back to the woman, albeit hesitantly.

The sudden flare of discomfort brought certain truths to her attention.  She was a cripple.  She was in desperate need of assistance.  If she did not find a friend, this voyage would be utterly miserable.  She had survived Nijon mostly on adrenaline and a kindly housemaid at the inn in which she stayed.  Her pain was only going to increase as time pressed on.  This both encouraged and dismayed her.  She was never happy to grovel for help, especially from a human.  They’re lives were short enough; they should not waste them tending to crippled Elves.  To her equals she felt an unnecessary burden.  There was no reason for them to waste time tending to someone who would never be well.  They had much grander things to busy themselves with.  It did, however, encourage her to speak with this fair lady.  She seemed in need of assistance, as well.  Perhaps the two of them might reach some symbiotic relationship.  Ana’e could gain the physical support she required while lending a pointy ear to this disturbed woman.

There was no doubt in her mind that this woman was truly upset about something.  Her companion was an idiot and a blatant fool, but he had not lied about his friend.  Her every reaction denoted a sense of guilt and self-consciousness that Ana’e knew all too well.  Perhaps it was her Elven instincts or her womanly intuition that drew her to this other lady clad in black.  Her hurt was obvious, and Ana’e could not let it slip past without a gentle questioning.

”Like I said…”  Her attention swiveled acutely back to the lady she had just been contemplating.  She truly needed to adjust her social skills.  She had just been planning their intimate friendship, when they had not even had a proper conversation yet.  She drew a piece of her cheek in between her teeth and lightly pinched the tender pink inside.  She really was atrocious.

”By the way.”  Ana’e honestly beamed.  Her simplistic features lit up into a complete and joyous smile.  She was genuinely relieved to have something simple to say to the woman.  “It is my very honest pleasure to make your acquaintance, Myrnal,” she said with a splash of young daisies in her tone.  Happiness and relief had put her natural Elvish accent back into place.  For several days now it had been suffocated as she attempted to put on her best airs for this new city.  Now that she was talking with a friend, the slight lilt took its natural place among her vowels.  “I am Ana’e.”

She faltered for a moment.  What was the proper thing to say next?  The woman was clearly not the most ready to talk, so she did not wish to pry.  There was still an awkward table of bread between the two of them, Ana’e noticed as another grunt grabbed three more loaves.  She smoothed the fabric of her shirt where her palm rested and hooked her fingers around her shoulder.  “So where and wherefore are you traveling?” she asked with only a hint of strain. She hesitated for a moment, holding the breath she had just taken.  There was more to say, it just would not come to mind. Defeated, she released it and prayed that the conversation would continue amicably.

”Yeah, nice to meet you Ana’e.”  Her tone deflated the tender Elf.  Was this how people spoke these days?  She was so casual and honest.  All the formality that Ana’e had used to address her was tossed aside.  What’s more, the Elf had made an effort to sounds less strained and noble.  Was she so impossible to speak with?  Had her enforced isolation made such a hindrance on her conversational skills?  Hot blood coursed through her cheeks and her palms.  Her toes curled in her boots, fighting the urge to run away.  Her nails dug into the soft part of her shoulder in an attempt to calm and ground herself.  She let her eyes dart one way and the other, looking for a proper reply.  To follow that with a, “Very pleased to make your acquaintance,” would be terrible.  Shaking hands was out of the question.  A bow would be worse than death.  Had customs changed so much in her absence from society?

As she hesitated, a solution formed.  The sweet lady continued to speak.  A timidly polite and slightly enthusiastic smile alighted on her face.  Every kind and informative word she said enforced the expression.  Inwardly, Ana’e was beaming with contentment.  It had been some time since she had honestly confided her thoughts, feelings and emotions in another mortal.  It had been only slightly more recent that a person had trusted their words with her.  Myrnal and she seemed to be getting along admirably right away.  There could be a bond here, there really could.  She was wrong to despair so early.  They could reach past each other’s guards and tend to the heart of their problems.

She carefully recorded all the information that Myrnal offered her.  Hakaril must be the feisty blue haired mage that had been so polite.  Somnia was a pretty name.  Ana’e would keep an ear out for it, and perhaps this friendship could expand.  For a moment, she tried to recall the last honest friendship she had known.  Nothing came to mind terribly quickly.  There was the maid at the inn where she had stayed.  Before that, there was the priestess at Faelyn’s temple from several years past.  She had guided that sweet mother and daughter through the forests, but they did not truly count.  Her memory roiled for only a moment before a question called her mind into the present.

What was she doing in the Sailor’s Bane?  It was a treacherous place to be.  Her pain flared slightly, reminding her of the deteriorating state in which she lived.  She moved her palm to the hole in her shoulder and pressed tenderly against it once more.  She parted her lips, eager to offer an honest answer.  The truth caught in her throat and she paused for a moment to swallow it back down.  Veracity would lead to inquiry.  Some natural instinct in her suppressed and hid from that possibility.  She wet her lips with the pink underside of her tongue and answered.

“I came to explore Nijon,” her eyes left Myrnal and darted down to the loaf of bread.  She forced her gaze upwards.  “It really was an amazing place, and I was thoroughly pleased.”  She bit her tongue, and suppressed that lie.  “Similarly, I found that boat was far more manageable than jungle.”

Irresoluteness carried her again.  She wanted to ask more.  What job had she come to Nijon for?  Where was she going now?  What plans did she have?  All these would have been suitable questions.  Her insecurities overpowered her desires.  An inopportune silence engulfed the Elf.  She had such difficulty choosing words.  There were far to many and yet none of them conveyed the sentiment that she wished.  She wanted to throw herself at the woman’s feet and plea for understanding.  I am injured too.  Let us not waste time being confused and overprotective of ourselves.  Why shouldn’t we join together?  It was all she could do to stop a tear from falling.  Another opportunity would fade away and the world would stay a murky brown.  The quiet between them was stifling.

“I do hope the weather stays as nice as it’s been.”  She could have stabbed herself.

"To explore Nijon, huh?" It occurred to Myrnal that she was dealing with a fellow master of destroying conversation. This wasn't like talking to Hakaril, where the conversation could be kept safely aloft a pile of words that had nothing to do with anything. Hakaril was so easy to get off track and talking about other things, but even Myrnal felt some pressure to affect strained smalltalk with this Ana'e.

"I wasn't there long. In and out in a matter of about a day." She gestured with her fingertips to the healing wound across her throat just under her chin. "Had a rough time of it." She shrugged. "Maybe I'll go back again another time."

Myrnal set her chin on her palm and stared at Ana'e for a moment. Myrnal hurt people to keep food in her mouth, shelter over her head. She could tell the wounded when she saw them, even though it was a skill she'd learned to better finish them off. Myrnal was also, from time to time, at least as blunt as Hakaril.

"So, Ana'e. What happened?" She gestured toward the woman's hand on her shoulder. "You don't seem to me like the type who runs around picking fights."

”To explore Nijon, huh?”  Her heart sank several inches deeper into her gut and began to pound fiercely.  It made her throat close together, and her calves to twitch.  Complete a job, explore – they were equally desperate excuses to avoid conversation without being rude.  Ana’e feared and loathed personal inquiries.  It was a phobia that she needed to fragment.  This woman’s rare stubbornness was a distinct battering ram against the wall that the Elf had built.  Why could she not willingly lower her guard?  She pressed her teeth together and braced for a bout of honesty.

Myrnal easily continued the conversation with words that had a place and purpose.  Ana’e glanced at the wound.  How terribly unobservant had she been?  Why hadn’t she asked about the scraps immediately?  It was an easy and obvious topic.  She adjusted her grip on the cane with her right hand, as if it might give her the support and gumption that she needed to continue with this conversation despite her obvious and unavoidable blunders.

What happened…?  That was not a question she could answer.  It was a rude, cruel and inappropriate remark.  All the determination that she had amounted in those few moments of listening were toppled over.  She could have easily lashed out at Myrnal the same way she did at Hakaril.  It would not be undeserved or uncalled for by any stretch.  In the moment after the question, Ana’e fumed.  She inhaled and allowed the full magnitude and impertinence of the remark to settle.  As she exhaled, a light sigh mingled with her breath.  An uneasy calm held her for a moment.  This was that familiar bludgeoning device trying to disable her defenses.  This was a moment for her to embrace that opening option.  She could spill all her woe and hurt.  No, it was too risky.  She had only just met this woman.  As trustworthy as she seemed, there was no guarantee that this would work.  In fact, the chances were much higher that she would be just as callous and coarse as any other stranger.   

“It was a horrific fight some great time ago,” she stated in a voice that didn’t belong to her.  The words came from some other place and placed themselves within her lips.  “I…” In that faltering moment, the enthusiasm faded.  It was before this woman had been born, how could she relate?   She shook her head.  As the wisps of ebony caressed her cheeks, the dreamy memories and hopes fell away.  “Besides, I didn’t pick a fight.  He was rude and I responded as anyone reasonable would.”

This would not be enough.  Already she could feel the piercing gaze and the daggers of mistrust.  She would not buy her simple lie.  Either she would continue to scrap away layers, until she found what she wanted, or she would give up and walk away with an ill opinion of this overprotective woman.  She looked down at the loaf of bread and turned over, as if looking for a decent chunk to bite into.  Just then, something white exploded.  The clumsy girl and the aloof wizard landed in a lump of flour.  An honest and real smile touched Ana’e’s contemplative features.  “Well, at least some people still get what they deserve,” she said in a voice designed for her ears only.  Even still, a laugh light up her eyes and as it took the trail of her statement, it grew into a distinct giggle.

"I didn’t pick a fight. He was rude and I responded as anyone reasonable would."

"Yeah, well," Myrnal responded. "Sometimes the fight comes to you." I should know. Most of the time it's my job to bring a fight to people who aren't expecting it. Lately though... things have been going a little differently. Maybe that's why this has been such a pain in my ass. Maybe I need to make a rule about protection jobs if they're all going to be this difficult. She sighed inwardly. Oh, well. No use crying over spilt blood.

Just then a familiar set of shapes in a sudden cloud of white powder came tumbling down back into the galley. Myrnal started violently at the sound; she was still edgy and hadn't gotten used to the idea that she was relatively safe again. She distantly heard Ana'e's comment and her voice responded without the engagement of the rest of her mind.

"Yeah," she replied as she stood away from the table, trying to get a better look at whatever had happened. "Though gods know what's on the horizon if we're only starting with pratfalls down the stairs." She shook her head. Apparently Hakaril and Somnia had collided and chaos had predictably ensued. Myrnal had guessed these two would be the death of her, and this was only the confirmation of her assessment. She sat back down with a sigh. "Whatever. I'm sure he's fine. If he does something stupid and gives me actual reason to worry, he knows I'll kick his ass from here to Wintersebb."