DarkheartOne/LogZeroTen
A year has come and gone with unusual switfness. Aishlinn and Bekev have been more than happy about Laranth's apparent 'awakening', and his triumphant return has led to a good bit of stability in his new position. Still... that fire inside burns. It was a small fire once... now, it's hot in his chest, demanding... something.
The dreams have become regular as well. Dreams of the flaming bird that lurks in his anima. Dreams of ash, dust, glory... justice, truth. Wars long fought, battles long won. And... fire. Cleaning, burning, destroying fire. Perhaps all this has led to Laranth coming across a most curious bit information; a lab specializing in firedust production is being constructed in the South.
Something about the news... tugs at his heart. And, perhaps before even he knows it, he finds himself on a boat, having just left Cherak. The morning is misty and cool, but not so much that one has to bundle up. The boat itself is quiet; mostly supplies and old sailors. As for Laranth himself...
Laranth is lingering on the deck, watching the ship's progress. Despite the relative warmth, he's a little overdressed for the occasion and looks vaguely contemplative.
The Inland Sea is, as always, rather calm, and the sea-scent faint. Laranth mostly picks up the smell of spices from the Northeast, as well as some furs... and the sharp sting of marijuana smoke. That last odor, however, is quite fresh, and coming from a place not too far from him.
Laranth glances in the direction of said smoke. "Funny time to start that, isn't it?"
"It's never too early... sunchild." The smoker is a tallish, lanky fellow with bark-brown skin and deep black hair, knotted into messy dredlocks. The faintest signs of silver can be seen on his scalp, and a closer inspection shows that his hair isn't actual hair, but thin, long feathers. He looks no older than Laranth, but carries himself like he's seen much. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Well, I don't like to bother people about their habits, so... ... have we met?"
"It was cold. You were dying, I was... tall. To put it mildly. And then your sun shone. Coming back to you?" Grass-Eater knocks some ash out of his pipe, then promptly packs it with fresh herb and gropes around in his satchel for something to light it with.
Laranth doesn't take long to catch on. "You! ... You'll have to forgive me; you were taller then, and I was thinking mostly about hypothermia and the sudden lack thereof. What in the world are you doing traveling south?"
"Some minor territory issues." Grass-Eater lights. Puffs. Exhales, lazily. "And I didn't feel like causing a scene, so between the legs goes the tail, and off I go."
"Oh, I see. Nothing to be done about it, I suppose?"
"Not unless you want to deal with someone old enough to be your honored ancestor." Grass-Eater offers the pipe to Laranth, raising an eyebrow. "Hm?"
Laranth hesitates for a moment, but he takes the pipe and takes a draw off of it before passing it back. "That is rather troubling."
Grass-Eater smiles a bit, returning to what's obviously his favorite pastime. "That, my shining friend, is the risk that comes when Luna decides you're important. It feels almost like yesterday... but I digress. South I go... I have some friends in the area. Sea's full of fish. Love fish. You?"
"I've developed an interest in firedust, and apparently they're putting in a center for it in a Guild outpost. I've gone to investigate the market. A bit out of my way, but closer than Gem."
"Mmmm. Guild. Don't like them too much."
"I'm indifferent, but I'm no businessman, really."
Grass-Eater breathes out a cloud that looks vaguely like a coiled viper. "But I require two things they have lots of. Information, and this." He lifts the pipe. "So, dance with the demons I must."
"... ah, right. They do own the hashish trade, don't they?"
Grass-Eater hehs. "What don't they own? It's scary what mortal man can do when they put their morals aside and their best foot forward."
"I don't know that it frightens me, but... I'm not exactly used to any other perspective, you understand."
"You'll grow into it. Takes time, really. I've had..." Grass-Eater starts to count on his fingers, quickly. "Sixty-three years to adjust. Trust you me, it's not easy... being a bit slow hurt me, but you're a sharp blade of a man. I'm sure you'll be able to wrap yourself around matters."
"I hope so. The problem is... well, the problem is rather what it's always been."
"Eh? That being?" Grass-Eater leans forward a tad, looking more than a bit curious.
Laranth shrugs. "There isn't so much in life that I want. Right now... well, I'm teaching and looking after my family's business interests, and I'm happy that way. There should be something more, but..."
"Perhaps, my shining friend... you'll find your way soon enough. I spent a good while trying to discover myself. What's to say that you'll go without a new dream, especially being what you are?"
"But don't these things happen to people with passion about life? People with goals? I thought I'd get goals."
"Good things happen, but sometimes they take time." Grass-Eater waves his pipe... then offers it again. "It doesn't hurt to slow yourself a little, friend."
Laranth takes another hit. Strangely, if anything he's looking less at ease than he was earlier. "But how do you slow down from a stop?"
"Boy... if there's one thing you need to grasp... is that life, Essence... it's always flowing, always moving, even when you don't think it is. You might not act... but what you are does. It draws in all sorts of things, good... bad. Some rush to this... and some let it come as it will." Grass-Eater helps himself to a bit more hash. "It's your decision how to approach what you will be. Face it, wait for it... run from it, as I am. I'm not too brave, I have to admit."
"I'm not running. I think</i> I'm moving towards it. I just... wish I was moving it, and not vice versa" . "Yeah, that part is frightening."
"I am prepared to serve, but not like this."
"That's one more thing." Grass-Eater smirks. "If you fight hard enough, you can forge your own way. I haven't been able to... maybe you can. Your eyes shine... it's a good shine."
"... is that a compliment? I'll take it as a compliment. Thank you. And... I plan to fight, even if it's just to stand still."
"It's a huge one. Not too many people have that light in their eyes. Creation beats it out of them. The Dragons beat it out of them. Fate beats it out of them. The world is rough on the soul."
"Eh, it's just the world. There's nothing <b>wrong with it. I suppose I've always had it better than most, but I don't have any complaints."
Grass-Eater nods, slowly, then finishes off his pipe. "... well, it's going to be a trip. I guess we can talk about something less weighty... I have some salted fish. You like fish? Me, I love fish."
"I don't mind it. We don't have much of it in Whitewall."
"Then you're in for a treat. Just hope you don't get sick of it." Grass-Eater smirks a tad, then rummages around in his pack, humming some tune the entire time.
"Ah, novel experiences. Let's hope I don't get sick of them."
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