"Clear the what?" Nivram stammered, the half-finished bottle swinging in his hands coming precariously close to losing a few drops. "I don't want to." He stared with an almost blank look at the rider. For a moment he considered adopting a more dramatic pose, but staying straight was hard enough. His plans of rationing himself to one bottle a day had already failed on the first day, since he was already half done with the second.
“Road,” the rider repeated overly patiently,
“Clear the road. There's a caravan passing through behind me, and anyone in the way may get trodden on.”
"Caravan, caravan, now what does that remind me of?" Nivram's thoughts wandered off, and he looked up almost a full minute later. "Your horse stinks. Or it might be you you know. I'm not sure I can distink...destink...distingu...ehhh...whatever. You get my meaning. That word is way too complicated at this time of the day."
“You're drunk,” The rider almost grinned, his words droll,
“I suggest you stand aside, for the sake of your alcohol, if not yourself.”
"I like your attitude. Alcohol is always more impotent than personal safety." Nivram carefully lifted his pack from where it had been lying in the middle of the road and with a dramatic gesture carried it to the side of the road. (OOC: impotent is not a mistake ;p)
"So, are you some sort of announcer for this caravan, clearing the road of any drunkards you might encounter?"
“No.” He shook his head, and nudged the flanks of his horse,
“Just tired of merchants trampling the downtrodden.” He seemed to be implying more than he said, but did not voice it. Hesitating, he asked after a heartbeat,
“So what are you doing on the road anyway?”
"Well, apparently I'm drinking." Nivram grins. "But that's not what you meant, eh? Sneaky question you have there, several possible answers...let me see." He takes a slow swig from the bottle, savouring the taste of the alcohol. "I'm on a daring mission to save a damsel in distress who has been kidnapped by bandits. I fear that her person might be danger and therefore I must rescue her as soon as humanly possible." All said in one breath for more dramatic effect. And accompanied by a drunken grin.
“Ah! So, you are the proverbial knight in... not so shining armour. Pray tell, what has left you in such a state?” The man seemed genuinely curious, his sharp eyes studying Nivram almost seriously.
“Perhaps you would share more of this quest with me? A noble task it is.”
"If you refer to my general state...it is a long story, better told in more comfortable circumstances. Sitting around a fire, listening to the flames crackle-" his voice trails off and a sound, almost like a sob escapes his lips. "I'm sorry. It really is a story for some other time, if this turns out to be not our only meeting. Suffice to say that this is my medicine," he adds, lifting the bottle and deciding against another mouthful.
"As for my quest...it is also a long story, but can be condensed. I was travelling with a makeshift group of well...travellers. A very mixed bunch. There was this one lass who stood out. She was not like the others. Everyone had secrets, but she seemed to be full to the brim with them. And my guess is she had her fair share of troubles in her life. And then a couple of days ago we fell afoul of bandits. The group decided to move along and not try saving her."
The bottle slips from Nivram's hands and shatters against a rock among the grass. "What a waste..." he says, looking longingly at the liquid quickly seeping into the ground.
“Ah, a tragic tale indeed.” The rider reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a long, corded bottle with a cork in,
“I would hear more, if you were willing to make such a trade? Alas, it is only rice-wine, but as potent as any they serve around here.” He held out the bottle. It was a good size and held enough for over twenty drinks.
“So,” the man inquired lightly,
“what was it about this lass that made her stand out so? Surely not just her manner?”
"That's right, it was not only her looks and her manners, it was the way she treated others. It has been a long time since I felt treated differently than just a drunkard. She made me feel that way. She treated me as a human instead of a lost cause. At least that is the way I felt." Nivram finally took the rice wine with a grateful nod and promptly sampled it. "Ahhhh, this is good stuff. Much better than the crap I usually get. Thank you kind sir. The name's Nivram by the way. And you are?"
“Asikol.” He extended his hand, expecting Nivram to grasp his forearm.
“I too, am on a journey.” He laughed, almost sardonically,
“Wine, women and song.”
The bottle of alcohol once again fell from Nivram's hands and his mouth opened quite wide in surprise. Luckily drunken reflexes prevailed and while a little of the wine did get spilled, the bottle did not break. "Did you just say Isokla?" he enquired, not sure whether he misheard through alcohol.
“Hm? No, 'Asikol'.” If he noted Nivram's slip, he did not openly show it,
“With an 'A'.”
"You know what the strangest thing is? The woman I was telling you about...that certain damsel in distress. Her name is Isokla, and for a moment I thought I heard you saying her name."
“Ah, I see,” He idly examined his cloak, and brushed a speck of dirt from it,
“An... unusual name. What did this fair maiden look like?”
It might have been drunk intuition...or a completely fluke guess, or a fully wrong one, but Nivram did venture it. "You know, I have the feeling that once I describe her, you'll know who I'm referring to."
Nivram paused as he recalled Isokla's face. "Rather slender girl, with silver hair and pale blue eyes, almost ashen-fair skin."
“Ah, and would she be of noble birth, perchance?” He laughed,
“Not the description of a low-born working lass.”
"I never asked and she never said. I did not want to probe too much."
“Even so,” Asikol pressed,
“Her speech, her words - surely you must have picked up on something?”
"She had manners, she knew how to choose her words carefully, whether to speak diplomatically or with a more direct meaning, if that is what you mean."
“Indeed?” Nudging the flanks of his horse, he added,
“I had heard reports of such a girl within a nearby village; they spoke of her as being a 'rare beauty'. Perhaps this is the same lass we both seek? I have long since desired to meet her, ever since hearing of her - I thought to myself, 'indeed! Such a precious pearl should not be thrown away; I must meet her'. And so, in my quest for wine, women and song, I seek out her and her ilk.” His smile was warm; but the light in his eyes was almost condescending.
Nivram took another swig of the rice wine, looking at Asikol over the length of the bottle. "You have the same eyes that she has," he remarks, way too casually.
“Ah, I get that a lot,” He rubbed his nose almost sheepishly,
“A mark of distinction and breeding, I'm afraid.” He almost coughed,
“Beauty, I am told, is reminiscent in many, and indeed, do we not seek out those who are like us?” The slick smile was back,
“And those unlike us; variety is the spice of life, or so they say.” Despite his words, his gaze was steely.
Nivram winked at him. "I gather you wouldn't mind joining me on this quest then. Alcohol is always better when shared, isn't it?"
“Agreed,” Asikol laughed, withdrawing another bottle and taking a long draw from it, before offering it to Nivram.
Nivram lifted the bottle he already had in his hands. "I still have some."
“Alcohol is best shared; save that bottle for later.” How generous.
Free alcohol was never to be refused. It was one of the first things that budding alcoholics learned. Nivram accepted the bottle. "We were waylaid by the bandits about two days journey from here on a side road of this road." He did not mention the exact circumstances of that meeting. Some things were best left unsaid.
“Ah, that would explain the... yes, there were many...” His lips twisted into one of the darkest sneers Nivram had ever had the displeasure of seeing,
“'soldiers' milling around here. In crimson, screaming about 'bandits'. I had the dubious pleasure of passing through here a day ago.” So what he was doing back on the road, he did not say,
“So tell me, of this girl, her name - Isokla, did you say? How pretty,” Smiling, he scanned the area,
“Alas, there are none of her flowers here.”
"How would you know what her flowers are just from the pitiful description I have given of her?"
“Did you not know the meaning of the name?” He tilted his head,
“It is... uncommon at home, but not so rare it is unique; it is a flower, just as my own is.”
"I am afraid to say that while I have drifted a lot during my travels, I never learned any other languages."
“A blue - lotus flower is the closest word, you have. Mine,” He brushed his cloak again,
“is golden. Not quite of the same family, but close enough. Hers are sought after by many - a potent, ah, but I must be boring you. The language of flowers is for speaking to women, bards and poets; not to men.” He inclined his head,
“The carvan approaches.”
Nivram nodded and looked at the approaching mass of man, beast and carts. "Best move out of the way then my dear golden lotus."
“I would prefer not to be known as such.” He inclined his head and moved his steed aside.
"I was but jesting" Nivram said, a wide grin steadily spreading on his face.
"So, what does your name mean?" Asikol inquired mildly as a large wagon rolled past, pulled by two very fat, very grumpy oxen, and equally overweight, grumpy taskmaster.
"I never found out...my parents died before they could tell me why I got this name."
“Ah, so you are alone in this world? What of your companions? Will they not wonder where you have gone?” Asikol watched in distaste as a second wagon pulled by, and shot the driver a look that would have turned him to ashes, had it the power, as the man raised his whip. The man thought better off it, and ignored the spear-carrying warrior, his brow beading with sweat.
“Wretches... what scum travel the roads these days?” Asikol muttered under his breath.
"It is more complicated than that," Nivram said and by the silence that followed it was clear that he did not want to continue the subject. "As to my companions, they shall but think that I am off in some dreary tavern, drowning my sorrows into cheap liquor. They won't worry at least for a couple of days. As I said, we were quite a makeshift group."
“Ah, might I ask how you met this lovely lady of blue flowers?”
"It was a chance encounter. If she feels so, I'm sure she'll fill you in on the details when we meet her."
“Perhaps I shall,” Asikol's eyes narrowed, and almost to himself murmured,
“Perhaps I shall indeed. I would be most... interested,” his lips tightened,
“...in knowing how she came to be about a group such as you.” The smile was back, full but thin, and no warmth in his eyes,
“Come, we have waited long enough. Let us move on; it shall be the caravans that move out of our way. Accursed merchants and their swagger.”
(Written with Dplax
)