Commonfolk Chatter [Open]

[Gaelan Elanessė Eydis]

Gaelan had been traveling for a while. It took more than a day to get from the headquarters of the Echa Riders over to Anima, and he was tired of sleeping outside. His dragon, Jaèmir, was generally compliant with Gaelan's wishes, and so had flown as fast as he could. Gaelan was not old at all, but Jaèmir knew all too well that his Rider grew horribly irritable after camping.

The Rider and dragon had landed outsidethe village, so as not to scare anyone. The area near the port was largely controlled by the Riders, so the sight of one of them was not that uncommon. Gaelan dismounted, and patted his dragon on the side. "I'll be back soon", he said to him in draconic. Jaémir grunted.

Gael winced instinctively as his dragon flew high into the air. No matter how close he was to Jaèmir, Gael still disliked being too close when a dragon was taking off, and he was on the ground.

Now alone, Gael pulled his cape over his left arm, securing it tightly to the small pin that was there for that purpose. Then he set off into town. His general opinion, as he walked down the streets of the tiny town, was that he preferred the company of Jaèmir to that of other echas. But he was already there, so the Duke gritted his teeth and made do.

The trading post was his main destination. It was not as if Gaelan needed anything, not with Jaèmir a mind's touch away, but it was a chance to observe the people of his realm. His slanted eyes flicked from one stall to another, making an effort to hear their whispers. What did the commoners think of the war? And could he figure out, just by listening to them, what the faerie army had to decide?

If the time came for the faeries to join a side (the Divine Light forbid it!), which side would be the best option?

The Rider glanced behind him, almost to see if someone was following him. His hand tightened over his sword even though there was no one there. Gaelan prided himself on the fact that he was always wary. Suddenly, the Rider stopped, and his eyes flashed back to forward. A small crowd attempted to push past the Rider, knocking him forward a few steps, accidently causing him to brush against someone as the crowd dispersed. Gael glared in their direction, turning around to excuse himself.

[Áedán Eydis]

For many nights and many days, Áedán had struggled to reach his home. But what was a home to him? Was the palace merely a memory from a past life? He recalled the walls, the tapestry, the golden cielings with paintings all over them. The wide hall… his chamber during youth…

What was it all now? Without him there, were his chambers still his chambers? His life still his own?

He tried to put these thoughts away, to push them to the back of his mind and care for them later, when he was closer. For now many leagues separated him from his home, and he still had many things to do before he joined his family once more.

As he strolled through Anima trying his best to find something cheap to eat and avoiding to be noticed, he meshed with the crowd. The multitude did not stop for nothing, and he was caught in a swirl of faces for a moment, before getting his balance again. But he was pushed slightly and a man was now apologizing… and all he wanted to do was to get out of there.

He looked at the man… and gasped. He faintly recognized this face, the eyes, the nose… he did not wear any armor, but Áedán knew immediately who he was. But could he be sure? Perhaps those eyes were the same, but the man had changed slightly too.

Was this man his cousin?

No, no way, he thought to himself. What could he be doing in this place of all? Still, he felt curious. And anyhow, perhaps the man would also recognize Áedán? Even beneath all these rags and all the years passed… he was still fairly similar to the young boy he once was.


“Pay no heed, my lord… it was I who stumbled against you”. Those were the only words he could mutter in all his confusion.

[Gaelan Elanessė Eydis]

Gaelan had turned around, after the brisk pushing of the multitude. He now faced a man which was close to his age, he believed, or perhaps older. Gaelan could not really be sure, as rags covered the man from head to toes, and his face loked weary and tired. Did all men look like this, eventually? Were the burdens of this world too much to bare, and everyone at some point or another aged and dimmed and disappear?

The man was also thin, as thin as a man could be. His hair was curly and his eyes were clear, the same exact hue of Gaelan’s eyes. Perhaps this man was even handsome, behind all of the dirt in his face and the clothes he wore?

Maybe Gaelan could even suggest that he joined the ranks as a soldier… the entire Echa race knew that they had to prepare for the worst, and what would happen if the dwarven need for dominion expanded to the faerie realm? No, they had to plan ahead.

And yet, something about this stranger puzzled him. There was something in his gaze, in the way he spoke, even in his voice that seemed familiar. He could not really pinpoint what exactly, but there was something odd about him. Gaelan had to figure out what it was… he was shy, yes, but he was also extremely curious.

“The multitude at this time of day behaves like an anthill, to be honest. Neither of us is at fault.” He smiled at the man. What could he possibly ask him? What did Gaelan really want to know about this stranger? “Where do you come from, sir?” That was all he could muster.