[FIN] Discussions in Monotheism (Dris/Damis)

[Painted Moose]

Adjusting to life without a shred of family in Oba was proving to be harder than Dris'rynne imagined. In the beginning she had "lived" in her step-father's wagon, curled up next to his Quhar during the nights with the man to keep her company during the day. However, he was a merchant, so when the time came he had to return home; except, he didn't take her with him.

It wasn't as if Niyani had wanted to leave her behind. He hadn't liked the idea of leaving her here any more than when she told him she was now the head of a small mercenary group. She couldn't say which revelation had brought him closer to a brain aneurysm. The man tried to give her as much freedom as a young woman should have, especially with her mother being...well, just being herself, but he worried. What would happen to her in Oba? Would she stay safe? Would she remember to eat solid meals instead of little snacks while on the road?

Even now she was moving around a new settlement, gnawing a particularly hard tree nut between her teeth. She supposed that's what she got for buying foreign food, but even if it was lackluster the snack reminded her of home. A little something of Jauhar to stay inside of her long enough for Dris'rynne to find her place here.

With her men tucked in at the inn (likely drowning themselves in booze and sex) Dris'rynne set out to gather supplies. She had a comprehensive list in her hand, and after planning out their travels a month in advance the merc knew exactly what they needed. Of course there would be variables, but Dris liked to have things lined out. It helped to keep order in a lawless nation.

She spotted an herb dealer who tried hard not to notice the shifter coming his way. The portly Oban plucked at the beard hiding his triple chin, swirling locks of gnarled red hair between his thick fingers. He averted his gaze once, twice, thrice; always finding it's way back to her. Whether he was nervous of the armed outsider or simply didn't like her kind Dris'rynne couldn't say. She also didn't care. All she needed was supplies; not a date.

"I'm looking for yellowroot-"

"Don't have it."

Dris'rynne furrowed her brows. "Then maybe you have raptrix ban-?"

"All out."

The shifter held back a snarl. She could see the plant in question, tucked in a large bundle right behind his back. This was going to be a very, very long day.

The Only Black Uke

I contemplated titling it, "Oh God, don't look over here, go away" but it seemed a little long

 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Damissan enjoyed sightseeing.

New people. New places. Engagement with the world around him. Oddly, perhaps, since prior to his current trip, he hadn’t traveled far outside of Sulburi itself. But, just the same, he felt comfortable in the new element and Tivrod was no different. After arriving, he went about his way through the city, speaking with citizens, exploring the local church, and generally attempting to get word of himself and his purpose there out to the people. It went about as smoothly as was becoming routine, with a pleasant lack of thrown stones and minimal shouting.

Then, he took a path through the market sector.

Granted, they already had with them virtually all that could be carried and Xilarn had even suggested — and aided in — minimizing their load to ease the burden on Nazakai and themselves going forward. But it never hurt to look, and there were always persons to speak with there. So, that was what he did, and in very little time, he was engaged in friendly — or ‘heated’, depending on one’s perspective — conversation with a trinket salesman, debating the divine purpose of the universe and its creator.

The man was nearly as stubborn as he was, making the conversation unfortunately unproductive—and easy to be distracted from. Shifters were not what Damissan planned on finding in the market. Particularly not petite, generously-hipped, female shifters who were — apparently, as he listened in — having some difficulty garnering the favor of the local vendors.

“—and anyone who’s so spun about the head to think one being of any sort is by any fashion lording over all the gods that have been written of and worshipped since the dawn of our history—”

“Hold that thought,” Damissan cut in with a dismissive smile as his previous conversation partner bashed hands to his booth for emphasis. “I might be a moment.” And in the wake of the angered sputtering and continued argument that followed, Damis slipped off, stepping up to the herb vendor instead. “Did you know,” he began, taking out two coins from his pouch and pinning his attention on the vendor, “that it’s good luck to sell to a shifter in the height of day?”  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

Dris'rynne did her best to avoid spying in on the passionate argument taking place not too far from her current position. Naturally she flicked her eye over to catch sight of the two, forcing back a snicker in the process. Religious nut. Some young priest by the looks of things was trying to bring in followers to some sort of cult; truly, what else would Oba come up with?

So long as she finished up her business and left he likely wouldn't see her.

If this arrogant, bloated worm would just work with her...

All at once his open dismissal turned into an uneasy curiosity. Perhaps he was coming around? For a moment, a breath, really, Dris'rynne thought things were finally going her way - until she realize exactly why the vendor was suddenly interested.

Gods no

"And why exactly is that?" His greedy eyes didn't so much as blink the entire time the young priest - or whatever he was - flashed his coin. Dris'rynne could see his sweaty palms twitch in anticipation.

"Yes, please, do enlighten us." Dris'rynne looked up at the stranger with her brows arched. What kind of Oban crap had been taught to this man about her kind? Although it was likely onto to anger her, Dris'rynne was too curious to walk away, like she should have.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Painted Moose

If the shifter did not look immediately grateful or pleased with his aid, Damissan didn’t pay the fact much mind. In any situation where nothing was going her way to begin with, any sort of change was unlikely to hurt the situation—and he clearly had the merchant’s attention, which was the goal. This left him with only one remaining avenue: answer the hanging question.

It might have been easier if he’d come up with an answer before making the quhar-s**t claim on the fly. But retrospect was an eternally untimely gift, and for the moment, he only had the present to work with.

“The celestial positioning,” Damis said. “The sun is our element, and with the power of our…” He debated half a moment, “…gods…at their peak, you’re at every advantage and in as positive of a place as you could hope for when making a sale to someone who derives their blessings from the moon. But. If I heard correctly, you’re out of so much common stock, you might consider remedying that first, or you’ll find it difficult to run a business regardless of how much fortune is on your side.” He tucked his coins back into their pouch and glanced down the row of market stalls. “Would you happen to know where a willing buyer could find yellowroot or raptrix bane?”  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

Dris'rynne tucked a lock of ivory hair behind her ear while watching the scene play out. Celestial positioning. It was outrageous enough to bring an instant smile to her face, and the warrior had to work hard to hide her laughter. Did he really think this was going to wor-

I'll be damned.

The merchant was eating it up! Of course the promise of payment was probably a far larger lure than anything this Oban was saying, but sweet words never hurt. "Wait, wait, I think there was a misunderstanding. A slip up on my part. I seemed to have over looked some of my stock, and I have both of those. As well as much, much more."

"Good. You wouldn't want to risk losing whatever blessings the...moon would give you. Or the sun. Very powerful." Dris'rynne turned her quriked smile up to the younger fire tribesman, mouthing a silent 'thank you' before engaging in her transaction. The salesman's prices were still far too high for her liking, but at least he was willing to do business with her now. It didn't take long for her bag to be full of herbs, and for the sweet weight of her coin purse to shift into near nothingness.

She waited until the portly man had turned his attention to other patrons before once again addressing the bald 'priest'. "So...which is it? I heard your discussion earlier about the solitary god, and then all this business with gods and blessings cropped up."  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Painted Moose

Shockingly, not all things Damissan attempted on the fly without a wit of forethought ended successfully or as planned. When they did, however, it was all the more satisfying. Thus, as the merchant took his word — or at least listened enough to sway his position and take the shifter woman’s coin — Damis felt a private mix self-satisfaction, relief, and amusement.

Particularly since she had initially looked ready to be offended herself, the woman’s amusement, instead, was especially welcome.

On the whole, he reasoned he probably couldn’t have asked for a better result overall.

And she was asking about his god. He flashed a grin. “One,” he said. “And He is the reason I’m in this city today, so now I owe Him thanks for the opportunity to meet you.” Catching lightly at her free hand, he gave a bow, lifting her fingers to ‘kiss’ without quite touching to avoid risking her taking offense. “Damissan Mataou. Speaker for the One True God of our many nations alike, and honored to make your acquaintance. And you are?”  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

"One god?" She arched her brow with disbelief. How could one god possibly do all that needed to be done? Dris'rynne supposed that this had been the main argument used against him. It had to be; others he might be willing to entertain, but this... was a little too far fetched for her.

At least he was polite. Had his lips so much as ghosted across her flesh she may have gelded him, but Dris'rynne was just a chaste angel like that. The gesture itself was light, well meaning but not too forward. That coupled with his charming grin was a potent combination.

Cheeks still warm and a nice, dusky blue thanks to a fine healthy flush, Dris'rynne spoke, "Korres. Leader of the Belpol Irregulars mercenary group, and still unsure on how I feel about making your acquaintance." While her working name may have been a cemented idea, their groups name was not. It had changed hands over the years, but at least through their newest leader Dris'rynne was garnering a well founded reputation for them.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

“Korres,” Damis repeated, taking a moment to let the name sink in and associate itself with her face. “That’s an impressive title, all told. I’ll trust you won’t rob me blind, or only if someone pays you enough to?”

Despite the arguably heavy subject matter, Damis’ tone was light and amused, teasing, even—though, given the muscle evident even in her petite build, the way she held herself, and her weapon, Damis didn’t doubt for an instant that she meant what she said.

“If you’re done enough bothering with under-appreciative locals, might I have a chance to convince you my acquaintance is worthwhile? An honor, even. Many people quite enjoy my company, though perhaps I can’t compete with the blessing of yours. Admittedly, the town isn’t that of my birth, but I’d be happy to help you about in any way I could…or we could discuss our God. People are staggeringly unwilling to hear much about Him and manage to look even less convinced than you do of my sanity when I speak of Him, but if you’d believe it, He’s the reason I’m here breathing today…and also the source of the last half dozen or so altercations I’ve had. It brings out something in people, I think, to present them with new ideas.”

And sometimes that something was knives.

Damis left that unsaid.  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

"I'm not a thief, Damis." Dris'rynne gave a light, breathless chuckle. "We're mercenaries, not bandits. I won't rob you...though I may rob you of your life if I'm paid well enough." Some of her men liked to steal from time to time, and although she never told them it was forbidden Dris'rynne did discourage the practice. Better to have earned an 'honest' days wages than to steal.

"...perhaps if I have a stiff drink first." Dris'rynne wouldn't disrespect his beliefs, but she would need something to take her mind off just how ludicrous they were. Or how heavy he was laying on the charm. For some reason when Teslaron tried these same tactics out on her she wanted to hit him more than half the time, but then again, Damis had yet to grop her or make some sort of innuendo.

You've only known him a few minutes. Give him time.

"How about this. You look like a nice, strong, healthy man; if you help me carry some of my heavier errands today I'll let you talk about whatever you want to. I can't promise you a convert, but I am willing to hear you out."  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Damis smiled. “Then I’ll hope no one comes to hate me quite passionately enough to scrounge together enough coin for that. Though I’ve never looked into the business, I’d venture a guess that the price of a head is nothing to scoff at…” A pause, “…but perhaps less steep for such easy prey as a humble, unarmed and unassuming priest.” His teeth flashed white against his lips as he tipped his head. “But I must admit, if I had to die at the hands of a mercenary, far better you than one who smells of urine, tobacco, and the blood of the last unfortunate soul before mine.”

What came after that couldn’t have taken him more pleasantly by surprise, and his eyebrows arched initially in spite of himself. Though, granted, his advances did not always end in failure, usually those shared in the open market with an attractive stranger were bound to head nowhere, and he expected as much. Engaging for however long it lasted, and then gone to their separate ways.

As it happened, though, Damis of course in his current position had virtually nothing to do but talk and share his stories with whoever would listen, and a genuine opportunity to do just that and help where he could in the meanwhile was as golden of a chance as he’d been offered yet. So, the moment it fully registered that she was serious, Damissan beamed.

“I don’t think I could imagine asking for better,” he admitted, and meant it. “Take me to the heaviest on your task list, and in exchange for a listening ear, my body is at your service.”  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

"You would be surprised." Was she teasing? Just the knowledge that she could be that light hearted was enough to draw out a flush to Dris'rynne's ears. "You may rethink that stance should you ever see me fight. I am a firm believer in prolonged suffering so long as there is a warranted reason."

Spirits, was she high? What else could possibly explain this talkative, almost playful side of her that kept shoving her more aggressive personality into a hole? Dris'rynne knew full well who this was. This was that aspect of her that melted whenever a handsome man chose to talk to her. Usually it was just in passing, something quick and easily subdued, but this was lasting for far too long.

And then he...then he said the thing...and Dris'rynne nearly felt like a teenager again.

A very young, very immature one.

Your sisters have more class than you and they're thirteen.

"Follow me." Her voice was a little squeak, one that went away once she cleared her throat and moved down the street. "F-first thing on the list is a saddle."  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Damis chuckled. “Then I’ll pray I never give you justification to prolong my suffering. I feel confident in assuring you that if anyone did become that distinctly unfond of me, I would bet a hefty pouch of coin that it was my mouth they grew tired of more likely than anything else. I do a lot with it, some things which people find more objectionable than others, and I have at least been told on more than one occasion that it may one day get me killed. Until that day…”

Noting the coloration in her cheeks, Damissan’s attention cued back into her demeanor as a whole and—was she genuinely flustered? Damissan supposed he had no reason to be surprised other than that she presented as a very put-together, composed, and capable woman. Thus, under the combination of circumstances, the glimpse of something more vulnerable was unexpected—and far, far more appealing than it had any right to be. Not wanting to push his good fortune, though, he let his expression soften, easing off on the direct advance and saying instead:

“If I haven’t completely exhausted your patience for me by the end of your task list and if you will be in town for some time, I would enjoy a spar, if you were amenable to the idea. Though I’m not carrying them with me at the moment, I have some background in blades myself, and it’s been some time since I’ve had a good duel. And, in my opinion, there is no better way to ‘see someone fight’ than to be a part of it.”

He kept pace with her as she walked, and wondered, as they approached a leather working vendor who ought to have a saddle of whatever sort she needed, exactly how often the traders would give her trouble for her race. Hopefully, if the day was to go well, the first was an outlier—but given his knowledge of his own people, Damissan was not holding out great expectations.  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

Dris'rynne canted her head so as to see him fully. She tucked locks of ivory hair behind her head, mind lost in an abrupt physical assessment. He wanted to spar...with her? It wasn't the reaction most gave when learning of her profession, but he had proven him self time and time again that he was, indeed, not like the general masses.

"If you think you can keep up, I suppose it couldn't hurt." Once in the midst of battle she could put all this silly nonsense behind her and truly focus. There wouldn't be any words to distract her; just swords clashing against each other in the sweaty, Oban hea-

Dammit, stop that!

This vendor, while healthier than the last, was no less surly. She had a crooked sort of nose that reminded Dris'rynne of a bird looking down on it's next meal.

"We don't serve shifters, so keep moving. My wares are far too valuable for jungle heathens." The vendor curled her lip and turned that same repugnant stare to Damis, "I suggest you take your mistress and go."  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Only rarely did Damissan hate to be right.

As the hook-nosed vendor sneered down at his company and then proceeded to turn her disapproving eyes — and tongue — on him, this was one of those times. As was his instinct, Damissan’s metaphorical hackles bristled, a prickling, angry heat running under his skin, fresh with the attitude of his upbringing and awash with hair-trigger thoughts that came with it: how dare she; did she not know who he was; you can’t refuse me.

But that, of course, was an outdated reaction, and wildly inappropriate under the circumstances. Of course she did not know who he was. Of course she would feel free to refuse him on a whim. Here, as he had chosen to be, he was not Damissan Mataou, first and only heir of his name with the Lord and Lady Ra’amand and Bahati giving weight and authority to his every whim. He was a nameless, wandering priest begging for the ears of strangers, and at the moment, traveling in the company of an outsider.

Still, his eyes flashed, and there was a moment of deep, piercing temptation to toss more gold on the table than the woman had likely ever seen in a single transaction to clip her words where they started. But that, unfortunately, was the easy approach, and not the one he’d come to take. So, he breathed, and then smiled—though it was thinner than the ones he offered to Korres.

“I do appreciate that you’re forthright about it,” he said, “and from that I’ll venture to assume you won’t be so easily duped into buying into trivial promises of good fortune as your neighbor was. That being said, my mistress and I have coin with just as much trading power as the coins passed about by the noble lords and ladies of Sulburi, and no one would be any the wiser if you pay for your next meal with metals that came from our pockets as opposed to the next. What would be unfortunate is if you had to go home knowing that your fat companion down the way made off eating us out of more coin than he deserved and you missed out on that opportunity based purely on the fact that you have sharper wit and tongue and wouldn’t be fooled into working with us. Is your distaste for my lady’s face truly so potent that it’s worth losing the profit value of a good saddle and whatever that coin could purchase you after we stop dirtying up your stall and preventing your other customers from coming here while we argue?”  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

Dris'rynne wanted nothing more than to shove a dagger straight through her rectum, and guide it up into her-

How dare she! How dare they! Were it not an oban that stood right next to her at that moment Dris'rynne's thoughts may have turned racial, but she kept them at bay. Years of fighting, of trying to 'fix' their image and this was as far as they came.

Pitiful.

Her nails curled into the hilts of her swords, patience at it's boiling point. There was only so many injustices one could sit through in a day and not lose a SHRED of sanity! She watched as the vendor curled her lip, preparing something truly nasty when something in Damis' speech brought her up short. The old shrew seemed to be actually considering his words, as if it had only just occurred to her that acting this way in this day and age was 'unsavory'.

Still, it obviously wasn't that what had caused her to reconsider. It was the potential loss of business and a tarnished reputation. Though, Dris'rynne doubted many would see this woman as cruel for turning her away. Damis, though...

"Even if I were to change my mind, the facts are that you simply couldn't afford one of my saddles. You say you carry as much gold as a noble, and I say bah!" She flicked her wrist, popping it into the air before crossed her arms over her chest. "Lies! A trick for the rest of the street rats to rob me blind."

Dris'rynne didn't know what burned her more - the b***h in front of her, or the likelihood that her words were true. If this vendor raised her prices like the herbalist had then there simply wouldn't be any way for Dris'rynne to afford the purchase.