What the Quiet Ones See (Caspian)

[Harbor]

Rare was the person who got to know Hannai and who did not fall into the habit of pushing her around. Not in aggressive ways, but when she didn't speak for herself people always assumed she couldn't act for herself either, and before shows one woman always hurried her aside so she could wind Hannai's fine white hair up into a tight knot, and someone always reached over to help Hannai with the buttons of her costume before and after, as if they thought she couldn't do these things herself. It became second nature for them. Hannai had quickly gotten used to the young women in the performers' dormitory picking up her brush at odd times of the day to comb her hair out even if Hannai already had it in her hand to do it herself. They had all fallen into the habit of forgetting that she was a person before she was any of her oddities, of which there apparently were many. She overheard them talking about her or over her head sometimes, telling each other of the various high places they had found her 'lurking' when really all she'd wanted was a place to sit where she wouldn't be in the way.

Her uniform was usually blue, since the director loved to see 'White' in blue. Her performances in the ribbons and on the swinging bars didn't allow for any of the frills of the other performers. She wore a skintight outfit of shining, icy fabric with white and darker blue ruffles that draped six inches from her hips and were short enough not to tangle or get in her way. She always went barefoot.

Some of the other high wire performers were arguing when Hannai had climbed up to the hidden places where they waited before leaping out twenty feet above the heads of the spectators. They were in her way and barely noticed when she elbowed through and around them. It was eight feet back from the visible edge that she paused, giving the music below the chance to catch up, then sprinted forward and launched herself over the edge, arms spread.

The feeling of spinning forward and falling and knowing that she had taken this risk on purpose was more satisfying and pleasing than anything else she ever did or had ever done. The sensation of falling was always new. And then she would stretch her arms out, feel her ribcage spreading with air, and her hands grasped tightly around one of the swinging bars waiting patiently for her to drop to it. Her momentum swung her forward, she released the trapeze and flipped multiple times before snatching another one. When her momentum finally slowed she pulled herself into the wide crimson ribbons that dangled, spinning herself between them and among them. She wound them around herself and hovered without using her hands. A faint breeze drifted up and around herself and an interesting new voice reached her ears. She was hanging upside down at the time, and she stretched her neck back to see who it was.

[Emiryal ♕]

What was he doing here? How had he let them talk him into traveling incognito to Uru'baen. This he thought was probably the most dangerous place for him to be with Galbatorix so near. The young rider was by far not very experienced but for that reason they had thought he would fit into the crowd better than most. He wasn't a great swordsman or mage at all, he had a lot to learn still. But someone had to go here, and that someone was him. While the Varden had spies here getting the information back was another matter and that was his role. He was to enter the city, find the spy, get the information and get out. Which sounded easy but a knot and butterflies in his stomach indicated it was harder than it sounded.

He wore very plain clothing which fit in with what most people in the city wore. And much to his disappointment he had to leave his sword behind. It was better he didn't have one with him, after all a rider's blade was sure to give him away. After entering the city he had found the spy in an inn exactly where he had been told to find him. The man had refused to give him a name, not even a fake one. He had told Caspian it was better to keep names to themselves in case anything went wrong, he had even insisted on not knowing Caspian's name either. The only way he knew it was the right man was the recognition code the Varden had set up. It was kind of stupid, but it worked.

Spy work was not really his line of duty so he had taken to the man's suggestions and they were to meet here at the show. With so many people of upper and lower class mingling and the noise of cheers they could swap the information and maps the spy had without anyone suspecting anything.

Being more of a farm boy he had never been to anything like this show before. And if it wasn't for the danger of being found out, he would've been excited to see it. He paid for a ticket into the show and joined the mass of other people who were going in. As he neared the place, he forgot to show his ticket to the attendant checking them. "Hey! I said I need to see your ticket, sir," the man said none to kindly. "Oh uh sorry," he said backtracking to show the man. The man shook his head. "Get back in line, I don't have time for this," he said. The music was starting to play now, the show was starting. A bit dejected Caspian rejoined the back of the line and waited until he got to the front a second time, this time making sure to show his ticket. He entered the place letting a bit of cool air in. He watched in awe as Hannai performed, having just barely caught her a little ways into the performance. He walked down the isle to the very end as close as he could to get a better view. As luck had it that was near the ribbons. He was mesmerized by her, the way she moved so gracefully and confidently on the various pieces of equipment. And not only that but her beauty. He found himself stunned as she came near on the ribbons. "Breathtaking," he said before realizing he ad spoken. He flushed slightly red when she glanced at him stretching back to see who had spoken.

[Harbor]

When the newcomer gazed up at her the expression on his face stated more clearly than any words could have that he’d never seen any performance like these before. His awe she had seen before, and while all forms of appreciation gratified her there was something special about this kind of fascination. It was a pure and special enjoyment, unfettered by money or age or previous experiences. She could perform for these kinds of people for hours and hours and only stop when her hands began to fail, so glad she was to give enjoyment to such people. Those who allowed themselves to show appreciation in its truest forms were her favorite. They were the closest things she had to friends.

Hannai gave him a tiny smile before flipping upward again and climbing. Climbing the red ribbons of fabric had at first been excruciatingly difficult, but once she learned the many ways she could do it, the many tricks, it had become as easy for her as climbing stairs was for most people. She gave the occasional flourishes with her hands and arms as she climbed, regaining the height she had lost when her momentum from the swings had faded. She even let herself slide back down a few times just to show how she could wind her way back up with such ease. At last one of the costumed women who had reached one of the three high platforms reached down and grasped her by the wrists, twirling her up and onto the platform. ”Since when does White smile?” the woman noted to one of the other acrobats. The other woman shrugged. ”Saw some nobleman picking his nose probably.”

The center trapeze was one of Hannai’s very favorite performances to undertake. It involved relying on other people though, which made her resist loving it too much. It was hard to fully trust people who thought of her as an item, without thoughts of her own simply because she didn’t have a voice. There were three men involved in this part of the performance. One hanging, strapped in, from the center trapeze. Two leaned out in harnesses from the platforms at either end. The man on the far side gripped the wrists of one of the slender, glittering women on his side and gracefully she leaped down from the platform to swing beneath him. He swung her twice, then tossed her, she flipped once, and at just the right time the swinging man on the center trapeze caught her, swung her once, and tossed her again. She spun and the man on Hannai’s platform caught her then drifted her up to stand beside him. Their audience cheered, clinking fork tines against wineglasses on the richer side of the hall.

The tricks grew more elaborate. Multiple flips, flipping and spinning simultaneously, and finally tossing two women at once, trading them off between the center man. This was the part Hannai was most adept at, because she did not fear falling. She had trained for such aerial acrobatics her entire life; she was just as comfortable among the ribbons and swings as she was upon the ground. Perhaps more so, because up here nobody ignored her.

The man at Hannai’s platform wrapped large hands around her wrists, swung her down, and threw her out. She twisted her legs together, arms crossed over her chest, and twirled until she began to fall and the center man caught her again. He threw her, she flipped slowly, gracefully, arms outstretched as though easing into a long dive, and arched her back with arms extended so the next man could catch her. Their palms met, damp with the heat of too many people in one room, and her fingers spasmed for a purchase on his wrists as her smaller ones slipped right through his. 

She heard their hundred-odd audience gasp, and she gasped too; their platform men had never dropped anyone before, least of all her. She was too small to offer much gravitational resistance. But then this fellow was new, and his hands were unaccustomed to having to tighten so far around her smaller bones. But there were ribbons underneath the platform, and she knew that she would catch herself. It was just a matter of doing so as quickly as possible.

She wasn’t meant to grab the ribbons when dropping like this, that wasn’t what they were intended for. But they worked without nets here and they were all that she had. Hannai’s back pinched as her fisted hands burned and slowed her fall, then her legs dropped gracelessly past her. Her speed from the center trapeze sent her hurtling toward a long table of noblemen and their wives. The men scrambled to stand and the women screamed, but why should that matter to them? Hannai was low enough to hit the table, not the people. She wrenched herself up again, curling and straightening so her ankles twined around the ribbon above her and she supported all her weight above the ribbon wrapped around her hands and elbows.

Her head barely cleared the goblets, and she could see her reflection soaring over a few of the spattered plates. The long ribbon trailed after her and spilled a few glasses of wine and Hannai wondered if that would be considered her fault. She let herself swing, gently now, back toward the center of the room. As soon as she was in the narrow, bare space directly below all of the ribbons and trapezes, she unwound her ankles and released the ribbons, landing nimbly on her feet for a sparse few seconds’ rest as she threw her head back and gazed up at the people she’d relied on to keep her aloft. Her hands burned and she shook them at her sides twice before winding a foot in the same ribbon that had abraded her hands and climbed, without flourish, back up.

One of the other trapeze artists helped her haul herself onto the platform just before the doorway, and hissed in sympathy when she snatched one of Hannai’s hands to see the damage. Hannai only looked over her shoulder. One of her breezes had given her the sound of worried whispers, and she was concerned. She didn’t want her best spectator to be harmed. In what she could see of the floor, and what she heard, a young woman had seen or heard something about her spectator that made her desperately want to talk to him. Hannai lifted a hand to point behind him, to where the woman was nudging her way through the crowd, and as soon as it had lifted the director had elbowed his way through the other acrobats and seized the lifted wrist. ”Come on,” he growled. ”We’ll get you some gloves for the rest of the night.” Of course, Hannai was one of the city’s favorite performers. She couldn’t simply walk away from the rest of the evening. Perhaps he would give her a day off to let the burns cool, but for the sake of his own reputation he had to put her back on the ribbons to prove that she hadn’t been harmed while in service to him. Too many people liked watching her to allow for them to see her come to harm.


*The trapeze performance, roughly.

[Emiryal ♕]

Hannai made it all look so easy, like she had been born to do it. Caspian stood transfixed on the spot having eyes for no one but her. The performance was more than impressive and the others performing were excellent as well but Hannai had caught his attention completely. Maybe because she had been the first one he'd seen upon entering. There wasn't anything quite like a first impression. When the man failed to catch Hannai he could only watch in horror. He wanted to help her, maybe cast a spell and break her fall, but without Sephora there to help him he was unsure of the words and blowing his cover here would be more deadly than Hannai's fall. He was too stunned to say anything and it wasn't until she was safely back on the platform that he realized he'd been holding his breath. She was alright much to his relief.

"She's quite good isn't she, but she usually doesn't fall," a familiar voice said next to him. It was the spy he'd met earlier. "Move away from here you are drawing to much attention," he whispered. Caspian hadn't realized it but he had been standing at the edge of the row this whole time now, only a few little kids were doing that so it did stand out. He nodded and followed the man to an empty seat where they sat down. He tried to keep an eye on Hannai though. "Is she okay?" he asked the man. The question seemed to have caught the spy off guard. "What? Oh probably. If she comes back out she didn't get hurt, they only get pulled from the show if they get hurt. I haven't seen that happen since this director has been in charge," he said. He pulled out a nondescript sack, much like a few others Caspian had seen around here. He accepted the sack, it was small enough so he slipped it into a pocket inside his jacket. "Sir, um you've been here a while. I wondered if you might know my father? His name-" Caspian started to say but the spy cut him off. "Shush, I don't want to know any names. Alright. It's just easier that way. So chances are I wouldn't know him anyways. I've stuck around here longer than I should have already. Make sure you keep that safe," he said. Then stood up and left as a group passed by them fading into the crowd.

Caspian sighed and leaned back in his seat, hoping Hannai would come back out. That had been quite a fall and while she hadn't hit anything he found himself still worried about it. For the first time since taking this mission he was glad Sephora wasn't here, she would've teased him for this. He hadn't even met Hannai but he felt drawn to her. Maybe it was just her performance? He considered reaching out with his mind to speak with her, but revealing himself that way wouldn't be good and he might distract her by doing so and make her fall again. Fall. The worry was too much for him. He saw a discarded paper sack on the ground. He whispered a few words, which formed writing on the dirty surface. It was a simple message.

Are you alright? If not I erm...can probably help maybe?...

Oh what a dumb message he thought, he wasn't sure what to write and how was she to know who he was? If she was hurt and he used magic to heal her he'd give himself away. Why had the spy chosen to come here! Maybe after the show he could go find her, ask around. That was if spectators were allowed to see the performers. A gust of wind as a few people entered snatched the sack from him and it floated upward..up? why was it floating up? He felt a pang of panic as he realized he'd willed it to go up by thinking about Hannai. It was going to Hannai! No!! He wasn't sure how to stop it. He wasn't trained enough to do it, and wasn't sure how his will had triggered it to begin with. "Oh no," he muttered burring his head in his hands embarrassed.

[Harbor]

The director sped her along the slender halls and tightly wound staircases, guiding her ahead of him with one hand on her shoulder as if she didn’t know the way. They always did that, assumed that because there were no words in her mouth there were none in her head. For the most part she didn’t mind being shuffled around like a well-trained pet, it meant people rarely bothered about where she was or what she was doing, and being somewhat shy being the center of attention was rarely a good feeling. Only when she was in the air did she feel comfortable under others’ eyes.

She recognized his voice when he grumbled some irritable epithet, and the scuffle of crumpled paper. Her breezes brought it to her virtually unnoticed, but she couldn’t stop to grab whatever it was they’d brought her until the director nudged her onto a stool and beckoned their resident healer forward. The woman clucked over Hannai’s hands but she’d seen far worse, and this sort of friction burn was the commonest of the injuries they all received. The crumpled paper brushed against the backs of her ankles and while the healer was lightly spreading a layer of cooling cream on one palm Hannai found the paper at her feet and smoothed it over her lap. It was just a bit of litter, really, but it had writing scratched on it. Hannai recognized writing, even if she didn’t know how to read it. The director and the healer chatted amicably over her head until the healer said, ”What’s she got there?” The director whisked it out from underneath her hand and the healer grabbed it, adding cream to this one too. He read the message aloud, and Hannai blinked, curious. Why should her spectator care about what had happened to her? They didn’t know each other. Friendly feelings aside, why would he feel friendly toward her? The director tossed the bag aside while the healer slid gloves onto Hannai’s hands and stitched them in because the buttons didn’t keep the wrists closed enough to keep her hands from slipping out.

They gave her another few minutes’ rest to let the lotion soak in and while they were looking the other way Hannai snatched up a stick of eye makeup to craft a response back to him. She couldn’t write any more than she could read, so she drew a small, clean-edged flower beneath his words. Flowers were peaceful, harmless. No harm had come to her. None that mattered anyway. It was the best she could do.

The director hustled her back up the stairs and to the wall exit, where the waiting acrobats quickly flattened themselves against the wall both so Hannai could see and so she could react. In response to the new man’s lost grip their performance had slowed: still beautiful, but in a more languid sort of fashion now, as opposed to spectacular. Hannai took a moment to curl the crinkled bag into a stiff tube and shoved it into her coiled hair, saw her opening, and when the woman nearest the exit saw her muscles tense, clicked her tongue lightly to warn the listening acrobats still in the performance.

Hannai sprinted again, needing to prove to the audience her wellness, and dove clear over the closest platform. There were trapezes everywhere they wouldn’t interfere with each other, and a small one eight feet above and ahead of the man who had dropped her. She grasped it tightly, grimacing at the tightness of her abraded skin, and swung herself up to sit upon it, spreading her arms with a flourish to invite the spectators to bask in their relief that White was unharmed and whole. She was perfectly fine. Just to toy with them though, she slid her weight back on the bar as though she would fall off of it, and caught it with her knees instead, flipping underneath and releasing, catching one of the ribbons hanging beside it and hovering in triumph. As though a part of the dancing movements they made between tricks, Hannay pulled the wound paper from her hair and flung it toward the young man who had sent it to her, along with a faint gust of air to see that it reached its original sender. She continued her routine, with fewer leaps and bounds now, and more effort put on faultless balance and complicated twists.

[Emiryal ♕]

Caspian still had his head in his hands when the crowd cheered as Hannai reappeared. He glanced up quickly scanning all the performers who were in view until he saw Hannai and a smile spread across his face. He was relieved to see Hannai reappear and half hoped she hadn't gotten his note after all. If she was out here she must be okay right? Like most of the crowd he didn't know the politics of the show in that Hannai had to come back out to prove she wasn't injured. Short of a broken leg she probably would've come back out no matter what but he didn't know that.

Fascinated he watched her, but now there was a bit of fear. What if she fell again? Could she save herself a second time, could she be so lucky twice? He sure hoped so. There she was sitting on a bar like nothing had happened. When she slid back Caspian thought she would fall again but she caught herself. She knew what she was doing why was he so worried now? He didn't even know her. At least she hadn't gotten the note that...

A paper came flying at him. He'd caught the motion of her pulling it out of her hair and wanted to sink into his seat and ignore it. But he didn't have that option, it flew right to him hitting him on the chest. His face once again turning slightly red, he glanced around to see if anyone was watching but most had their eyes on the show. He dared a peek at the note. There were only his own words, why had she sent it back? Then he noticed the flower crudely drawn in, well he didn't know what it was in but it wasn't ink. Hannai had to have drawn it. The flower looked fine, so maybe she was trying to tell him she was fine too. It wasn't like the flower was dead or dying. Why hadn't she written him back and just drew a flower instead? Maybe she didn't know how to read. He hadn't until he'd joined the Varden and learned, and he still wasn't that good at it. If she didn't know how to read she might not have known what the note said and had just doodled a flower to be nice. He crumpled the paper into a ball in his fist and shoved it into his pocket.

His eyes drifted back up to see where Hannai was. After getting the note he'd stopped watching her performance. The note? Why had it come so direct to him? This was too odd. Was Hannai more than she seemed to be? Maybe she had read the note after all. He wanted to find out. He stood up and walked back down the isle towards the exit. He had to know. With a final glance back at Hannai he left and headed around until he got near the back where spectators were not intended to go, more or less the backstage door. He pressed his hand to the door and muttered a few words in the ancient language to open it. With a satisfying click he knew it had worked and opened the door. He needed more reason than to just walk in. He glanced around and spotted a few flowers growing. They were not that pretty but they'd do. He picked a few then walked in. "Hello? Anyone? Excuse me?" he called. He'd ask for Hannai as a fan who wanted to meet her. Sure she was still performing but he could wait for her backstage that way he was sure to see her. If he waited until after the show to do this he might miss her. He just hoped she didn't fall between now and then.

[Harbor]

Performing was more than places she went where others couldn’t, or things that she did, it was a mindset she could only enter when she knew that she was making an influence on others, making them happy for the things that she did. It was a way of living, really, and through the people who told her what she did was impossible she felt as though she were living in an imagined world where she was doing impossible things. Flimsy and poetic as it might seem, Hannai loved the performance for what it was: a suspension of stress and reality for an easier world.

The director didn’t coddle his performers though, so when he called her back from the ribbons a few minutes before the end of their show she was surprised. She swung and leapt her way back to the starting platform and blinked up at him inquisitively. She’d only been out for half an hour, but perhaps he wanted to give her a few extra minutes of rest and check that her hands were still protected. The fabric on their performing gloves was strong, but still wore down quickly, and she wasn’t accustomed to wearing them.

It was the gloves he wanted to check, and by the time he’d given the stitches a few tugs and twists to assure himself that they were holding, the other acrobats were sliding back in through the doorway and the singers were climbing out onto their specially made swings. Their music was slower, quieter, to better allow their voices to carry. Hannai was a few steps behind most of the others as she made her way down the swirling stairs, and appeared to be the only one to hear the tentative but resolved voice calling from another hall.

She recognized that voice. There was a heavy curtain hanging between their hall and the doorway into the next one, which led back to the director’s offices. She stuck a finger through the gap and pulled it back just enough to see that she was right about their unexpected visitor, then slid it back all the way and peered up at him with open curiosity. What was he doing back here? That door ought to have been locked. It always was. The flowers he’d chosen out of the director’s wife’s pots were pretty though. Hannai had always liked the orange ones. But what had he made his way back here for?

”She doesn’t talk, you know.” One of her fellow performers returned from one of the back offices with a stack of music in one hand. She twitched her chin toward Hannai. ”Never has.” Unperturbed, she flung back the burgundy drapes and disappeared to lounge with the other performers until it was their turn to fly again.


{Shorty }

[Emiryal ♕]

The first person he found back here he had not expected to be her. He was shocked and at a loss for words for a moment. Hannai had been spectacular performing but even though she wasn't performing now he still found her stunning. She was one of the prettiest girls he'd seen and for the first time since arriving he was at ease and not worried. He glanced at the other performer who spoke. Hannai couldn't speak? Why? He wanted to ask more into it but she was gone before he had said anything. It was just him and Hannai in the hallway and the flowers. Not that flowers really counted. "You can't speak?" he asked realizing it was probably a rather rude question if she couldn't, it wasn't like she could answer him if it was true. "Um that was quite impressive during the show," he said finding himself stumbling on words. If she couldn't speak what was he supposed to say? He felt like melting into the wall and just getting out of this situation, but he couldn't.

"Um here, these are for you," he said holding out the flowers. "I was worried you had been hurt when you fell. How did you send that note back to me?" he added. It had seemed odd that it had been so direct to go to him and no one else. the wind or any breeze would've blown it just about anywhere and chances of him only were few. "Oh sorry, dumb question you can't answer can you," he said. Why was it so hard to carry on any conversation like this? He felt more at ease on the training field with his sword than here, and he wasn't that great with a sword to begin with. It wasn't until then that he noticed the gloves on her hands. He hadn't noticed those before when he'd first seen her. "What's this? You did get hurt didn't you," he said his voice full of concern. "I wasn't kidding when I said in the note I might be able to um help...just don't tell anyone...oh sorry," he  added. Arg! Why did he keep saying stuff like that. She probably thought he was a jerk!

He sighed, this was awkward. "Um let me see it," he said extending his hand and taking one of her hands in his. He tried to pull off the glove but the stitching prevented it from coming off. He glanced at her before speaking one word in the ancient language and cutting through the thread. He didn't have a dagger or anything to cut through it and it wasn't like she was going to tell anyone that he could use magic. He was trying to stay incognito after all. With the threads cut he pulled off the glove and turned her hand over to see if there was any injury on the back, but it was only on her palm it looked like. He took a scrap of cloth from his pocket, a makeshift handkerchief, and gently wiped her palm clearing the remaining lotion off so he could see it better. He glanced at her making eye contact. Why had the director sent her out when she was hurt? He wanted to ask but knew she couldn't answer. He covered her palm with his hand, specifically the one with his insignia on it. "Weise Heil," he said. A soft golden glow illuminated under his hand as the abrasions healed quickly. He removed is hand from her's the flesh was perfect as though she'd never fallen. "I can heal injuries, but I don't think I can give you a voice. I wish I could," he thought directing his thoughts towards her. The golden glow reminded him of Sephora, his dragon, and he was used to speaking with her this way. The thought had caused him to do so now with Hannai. He hadn't realized he'd done it either as he added. "Do you want me to heal your other hand? Or is that one alright?" That should be something she could answer right? With a nod or giving him her hand?

[Harbor]

He looked startled to see her, so perhaps her spectator had been looking for someone else. But he didn’t ask for anybody else. ”You can’t speak?” His surprise was warranted, and she only shrugged and smiled. She never had. Whether it was because she didn’t want to or she couldn’t she hadn’t figured out yet, but she was afraid to try and discover it was the latter, even though that was her suspicion.

Hannai accepted his compliment with another small smile and a dip of her head to thank him. His uncertainty, so to speak, when he offered the handful of flowers would have made her blush if she wasn’t used to compliments. Because of her age she wasn’t accustomed to seeing awkwardness when others did so, but then most of the compliments came from adults several decades older than her. She took them gladly, wondering if she could wind them into her hair without damaging them. The orange would set off well with the blue. To demonstrate the answer for his question—for this was something she could answer—Hannai held out the hand not holding the flowers and caught the faint flutter of air coming in underneath the door that had supposedly been locked. The faint breeze coiled up from the floor, stirring dust with it, and when she bid it, swirled once around her spectator so he would feel it. Then she let it go.

Inadvertently, using her hands to direct the breeze had brought them to the spectator’s attention. He looked affronted, almost, at seeing the gloves and guessing at the reason for their use. She inhaled as though to tell him she was fine, but of course that wouldn’t work, it was simply a force of habit from using what precursors to speech that she could. He held out a hand, and, with a heavy sigh, she dropped hers into his. The stitching confounded him for only a moment, and then the glove was off and he was frowning at the friction burn on her palm, which he seemed to treat like an offense to his own person as opposed to an occupational hazard to hers. Silly man. The kerchief he produced would have abraded the pinked skin if it had been new, but it was worn enough not to hurt, and she stood patiently and waited for him to do whatever he thought was better than what their own healer had already done.

She watched him patiently while he looked over her hand. She didn’t consider the burns much of an injury, and tried to tell him that without saying it when he glanced up. His use of magic startled her, and she inhaled sharply to show it. Of course everyone had heard of magic people, but there were so very few of them, and somehow Hannai had never thought of herself as one of them. He only murmured some odd words and there it was, her skin was just as it had been before. And his next words….they weren’t audible. They were like what her marble did, inside her head, though without the images and impressions she tended to use just as frequently as specific words and phrases.

I don’t need a voice, she would have told him. The world is too loud already. That was the only thing she didn’t like about their performance hall; the way the noise echoed up into the rafters when their audience was full. It made her head throb.

As to his offer she just switched her flowers from one hand to the other, took back her pilfered glove and extended the other hand. Let the director wonder what had happened—it wasn’t like he could question her. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t even try. He was one of the better folks she had worked with; the ones who tried to force answers out of her were worse than the ones who pushed her out of their way as if she were an object instead of a person, and there was a fair number of those. Besides, she hated working with gloves on. She didn’t care for shoes either, but it being winter she did wear them when she had to.

The faintest bitter scent of smoke made her head snap up, and she frowned. It wasn’t candle or lantern smoke, those were familiar smells. This one was acrid. She slipped around the spectator and threw the door behind him open, noting the smoke, near the main entrance, in only a moment. The musicians were the closest source of noise to her so she ran for them, grabbed one by the shoulder and yanked him around to face her.

Everybody who frequented their hall knew that Hannai was mute, so when she hurriedly pointed his attention in the direction of the drapery now surrounded with gray plumes, he shot to his feet and bellowed fire.

It was not what Hannai would have done. Distracting the acrobats like that could kill them, the fool, but in a swift glance up she saw that each one of them had made their landings safely and were now hustling their way clumsily back toward the platform, now empty, and crowding it in their haste to escape the air. Hannai dove back into the hallway, grabbed Spectator and dragged him with her through the side curtain. The musicians would get everybody on the floor out, and the waiters, but the performers had their own doors, and he was more likely not to burn himself if he came with her through them. She shot up a single flight of stairs, found her pallet, and began stuffing the sleeves of her coat with her clothes and shoes, quickly tying her brown marble around her throat. Then she grabbed Spectator again and shoved him toward the nearest window. They were already open, acrobats being more realistic about plausible escape measures than the common person, so she pushed Spectator toward it, pointing. She would go first, but she was the faster climber, almost certainly, so it was only fair to make him go before her. She knew what she was doing.

[Emiryal ♕]

Caspian had watched with interest as Hannai seemed to command the breeze near the door. Could she use magic? Manipulating the wind like that seemed that it was very possible, but she hadn't healed herself so maybe that was all she knew how to do with it. Maybe she'd never been taught to do any more. Even as it was for him, he didn't know to many spells but he knew enough to get by and training ensured he'd learn more. It seemed she was full of surprises. She'd seemed surprised however when he'd healed her hand. Magic wasn't exactly common but she seemed to have some type of power herself witch perplexed him. What he'd done was relatively simple and most any trained in magic could do it. Being times of war it had been one of the first spells he'd been taught.

Only now realizing he'd spoken to her by touching her mind he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed or pleased. Having not pulled away he heard her thoughts, her voice. The other performer said she'd never spoken. Was he the first to hear her voice then? Well in a way, thoughts were not words but to a Rider it was a way to communicate to their dragon who couldn't speak verbally. Before he had a chance to say anything more or heal her other hand something seemed to alert her and a moment later he smelled the smoke as well. It was growing stronger so the fire or whatever source must have been getting bigger.

He waited as she alerted one of the musicians to the smoke and then it seemed all chaos broke loose. He wasn't sure if he should slip back out the way he'd come to escape or try to help some how. While the others tended to lead her about like a dog, he didn't even consider helping her out or trying to coddle her. He had felt her mind and heard her, she knew this place better than he did by far and he trusted her. With his life? Well maybe not that far yet, trust wasn't instantaneous. More the trust of meeting a nice stranger who offered to share their meal and shelter.

He obediently followed when she'd returned for him and dragged him after her. He wasn't sure where they were going but it didn't seem to be out of the building. Didn't she know the way out? Or was something wrong? His question was soon explained away when he saw her grabbing her clothes and shoes and other belongings. He would've offered to help but he wasn't sure what belonged to her in this room and what didn't. With all those performers they probably shared rooms to some extent. "Whoa!" he shouted alarmed when she pushed him towards the window. He hadn't expected it and had stumbled towards it hitting the wall next to it lightly. He glanced down at the window, heights were not his favorite thing. When Riding Sephora he knew she would make sure he didn't fall, but otherwise heights just bothered him. With the fire he didn't see much other choice. At least it was only one story up, they'd only climbed one flight of stairs to get here.

He glanced at her sure she would have no problem getting down considering her performance earlier she seemed right at home doing stunts similar to this and in such a way that was breathtaking. There wasn't any time to argue. "You are right the world is too loud already, more so now than ever," he said as he got onto the window sill wanting to let her know he'd been able to hear her thoughts earlier. Without waiting he jumped from it, casting a spell as he did so to slow his fall helping him land lightly without a problem. He moved out of the way not sure if Hannai would jump or what and didn't want to have her land on top of him. He waited watching the window for her, half expecting something flashy as she escaped through the window.

[Harbor]

He was hesitating. Why was he hesitating? She could still smell the smoke even as they reached the rear of the building. They were only one story up, he couldn’t possibly be afraid. She bounced in place, pointing emphatically again and snapping her fingers because sound wasn’t one of her strengths. Perhaps she should have gone first after all, shown him how it was done. Easy as her method was most people still balked and ruined themselves for it. Another performer sprinted in, scooped up her things and tossed herself out the window beside them. Hannai’s bones were going to leap right through her skin if he didn’t get a move on. Either that or she was going to push him again. She was stronger than she looked. The smoke seemed to coil into a tight knot in her lungs.

The spectator gave her another look and she pointed at the window. There was nothing more important at this moment than his getting himself out of the building so she could feel better about getting herself out. His words touched against her mind again, but this time they startled her more than bemused her. What he said was copied out of her own thoughts. But he couldn’t possibly….could he? She eyed him with a new wariness, on the verge of a frown, when he leaped out of the window.

Finally. She stuck her head out the window to make sure he was out of the way, then chucked her wadded up coat out after him. She wasn’t long after it, standing on the windowsill, reaching sideways to grip the round, iron gutter, and swinging herself alongside it, toes lined up along its length. Hand over hand, stretched out on her toes, she clambered her way down the pipe in such a way that she didn’t have to jump and risk breaking something she might need later, like a foot or a knee.

Now relatively safe from the creeping fire, still mostly contained by the front hall, Hannai spent a few seconds digging her stockings and shoes out of the coat and yanking them on, bundling her clothes back up and throwing her coat over herself. Whoever the spectator was, he was welcome to do as he wished now, since she no longer had the obligation to tell him what to do, more or less. She glanced at him once, gave a look up the inflectionless sides of the building, then ran for the front of the building. She could hear the low murmurs of people collecting there, and she had to see how far the fire had gotten.

Once there she slowed, slipping through the crowds until she stood closer to the front, where she could better see past or around the adults, since she was the only child there. At the sight of the flames, like orange petals, blowing and fluttering out of a few of the upper hall windows her insides went cold and her eyes went warm. This director had made so many improvements to this place since he’d replaced the old one, how would he afford to keep them all while making the repairs? The entire front wall looked liable to collapse already. A hand settled lightly on her shoulder and Hannai looked up to see one of the performers she liked best standing beside her. ”Best of luck to you, White,” she said with a sigh.

Of course. The others would easily find places with traveling circuses or local theaters, or under different professions. But Hannai was too young for a different profession, and too skilled for other theaters to be able to afford to take her. She didn’t even have any wages to try to support herself with, as the others did. Of what use would an ornament put wages? Hannai hadn’t been paid in all her life for what came most naturally to her. She had nothing if this place fell.* 

Hannai sniffed, wiping at her eyes, and gripped the marble hanging against her collarbones. She’d had it long enough now that the secretive independence it gave her was more comforting than the presence of the people who forgot she could still think for herself. The spectator had been the only one to treat her differently, including her own family. She wondered if he’d left, and missed him already because he had made her feel like a person.

*This way she has reason and motive to go with Caspian to the Varden if he offers.

[Emiryal ♕]

Caspain waited as Hannai put on her stockings and shoes. He was a bit overwhelmed by all this and couldn't help but wonder how the fire had started, had it been intentional was this his fault some how? Maybe someone was trying to kill him knowing what he was here to do. But how could anyone have found out about that, he hadn't told anyone and he'd been careful. He followed her around to the front of the building following her close behind pushing through the crowd behind her. The building looked lost, there was no chance of stopping the fire only trying to keep it from burning the other buildings near by. His gaze followed the flames upward as they licked at the building hungrily. As the other performer spoke a pang of worry found him. Best of luck to you? What was going to happen to the performers now that they didn't have the building.

Hannai only appeared to be a few years younger than he was, exactly by how much he couldn't say he was never good at guessing age. Seeing her looking upset pulled on him and he placed a comforting arm around her, feeling a little awkward as he did so. In all that confusion he had never even asked her, her name or introduced himself. "What are you going to do now?" he asked touching her mind. "Sorry I hesitated to jump back there...heights aren't really my thing. I'm Caspian by the way. I never caught your name though." He added. It made it feel like they weren't quite as much strangers to each other if they knew each others name.

Surely he thought Hannai must have had some plans or place to go, maybe back to family though then again in this war torn land family were often ripped apart as their fathers and brothers were drafted into the mad king's army. He felt a tingle down his spine, an uneasy feeling as though he was being watched by a hostile person. He quickly turned and scanned the crowd but he didn't see anyone that seemed out of place or a threat. He saw quite a few adults, a few mother's calming their children and performers mingled together. There was a boy standing near the edge of the crow, he seemed to be a few years older than Caspian . He didn't look as worried as most of those here, a sword hung at his side though. Maybe he was part of the king's military and had come to see the show. He looked old enough that he might have been drafted into the army. The older boy caught Caspian's gaze on him and Caspian quickly looked away. He wanted to slip his hand into his jacket to make sure the papers with the information were still there but he didn't want to give away that he had anything at all. And that other boy just gave him the chills, he couldn't mean anything good.*

(sounds good to me. He probably will make the offer soon. I just looked up their bios Hannai is 11 and Caspian is 14. xP so they are pretty close.

*By the way the older boy mentioned in the last paragraph is Lyserg, he's a shade. I thought it might bring up some nice conflict if he is after Caspian.
argetlamrpg.proboards.com/thread/2081/lyserg )

[Harbor]

When an arm settled hesitantly over her shoulders Hannai glanced up only once to see who it was but didn't jump; she was used to being nudged and pressed from one place to another, and to be quite honest her dismissive treatment here had begun to quite amuse her. But it was her spectator, so some part of her tiredly lifted, and she turned back to watch the fire destroy the first place she had wholeheartedly loved. The traveling circus had never provided such a thrill or a challenge such as this performance hall had, and it had been small. Hannai preferred open space, room to move. Everything she'd ever needed here she'd had. It had been wonderful.

The brush of the spectator's voice in her mind wasn't quite as startling this time and, after a moment to think, she answered. He wouldn't have spoken to her this way if he didn't intend to let her respond. I don't know. There isn't anywhere... Guessing that he might see as well as hear, without taking her eyes off the flames she walked him through a summary of her situation. There was a chance the director and his wife might keep her on individually, just to keep her safe and alive through the winter, but she had no way of knowing. Heights don't come easily to most people, she quietly acknowledged then, imparting upon him her opinion that what was important was that he had jumped at all. She tucked his name away to remember and thought about her own name.

Unaccustomed to expressing her own thoughts in sentences, she instead showed him a few flashes that had led up to her being here. Her mother dragging her Into town, taking money from a circus leader and leaving her with him after saying only one thing. "I'm sorry, Hannai. Maybe someday..." But then her mother, never much interested in mothering Hannai, had shaken her head and walked away. When the circus had sold Hannai to the previous director of the hall he had forgotten to tell him her name, and by the time someone even thought to ask, nobody thought to ask her. They called her White for her skin and hair and never thought anything of it. Hannai hadn't heard the sound of her own name in years.

She had no way of knowing how much of that he might see, but she hoped he got her name at least. It didn't really matter that he understand how he was the only one here who knew it now aside from her. He looked preoccupied though so she didn't bet on him having heard her. Oh well. If he wanted her story he'd ask for it. People wondered sometimes, but so far very few had let her try to explain it. Drawing could only get her so far and she was hesitant to let them in on the secret of her marble.

Part of the Halle's once glorious facade collapsed and Hannai ducked her head to hide her misery, stomping her feet in frustration, as though she could stomp out the flames. She didn't want to be here anymore. She started looking for gaps in the entranced crowd behind her, wondering if she could slip through without notice.

{Some conflict is always fun. Yes they are close in age.}

[Emiryal ♕]

Caspian's gaze focused back on her his expression filled with sadness and compassion at her story. "I see, I'm sorry to hear that, I wish I couldn't relate but I have a similar tale of my own. I'm sorry I didn't mean to appear to be ignoring you," he said. "I did see it all," he assured her and he had. He found Hannai's mind rather easy to penetrate and pick up all the details of her thoughts and images she wanted him to see. He could've seen more but he wouldn't go searching her mind, he only listened to what she wanted to tell him. From what he could tell she wasn't trained as he was in shielding his mind, in contrast she was more of an open book. He pulled back from her mentally just enough to ensure he didn't accidentally pry into her mind though she was free to speak to him and still he'd hear.

"Hannai, quite a pretty name....it suits you," he said speaking it aloud wanting to test it out so to speak and make sure he didn't forget it. Catching her gaze and her actions he pulled her close and led her through the crowd pushing his way through a few times when there was no clear path through. He didn't want to be here any more than she did but for another reason. He wasn't sure if he was still being watched or not and staying in one place to long wasn't going to help keep him under the radar.

Once clear of the crowd he whistled a loud bird call and waited. "I can't talk here, but I want to help you. Maybe, you could come with me. It's not um like this exactly but you'd be taken care of," he said. He didn't want to tell her to much here even mentally. For one it wasn't really the time to explain his connection to the Varden with all this happening. It wasn't long before a black horse came at a partial run through the streets and stopped in front of Caspian, nickering nervously. "Sorry, I know you don't like fire. Shhh it's okay," he said releasing Hannai to place both of his hands on either side of the horse's head as he comforted it, but not with his mind only with words in this case it was just as effective. The horse seemed to calm down but obviously didn't enjoy this. Caspian moved to the horse's side, there was no saddle or reins but it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest as he swung up confidently onto the stallion's back. He held out a hand to Hannai to help her up. "This is Destier, I trust him as much as you trust your ribbons. Come with me for now, we'll figure this out, find you a place to go," he said. If she wanted to stay here in the city or find another show to be with he'd help her do so, but if not and she was willing he knew the Varden would help and give her a place to stay. He was as confident in Destier as Hannai was with heights. He trusted the horse probably far more than people should trust a simple animal. But the horse had been his friend for a long time and had never failed him.

[Harbor]

She shrugged, giving a faltering smile. She did like her name, it was a quiet name. A hushed start and a peaceful end. It was strange to hear her name spoken again--I had been years since she'd heard it aloud. It was nice to hear it again though.

Caspian's arm turned and she turned with it, albeit reluctantly, her gaze the last to come away, like a crab tearing itself out of its shell. She felt quite similarly, except her shell had already been destroyed. She had nothing left to go home to even if she tried. But then how could she call it a home when her 'family' didn't even know her name?

At that thought she turned willingly and followed Caspian as they ducked and wove like thread through a thousand needles to escape the crowds coming to watch disaster fall. Caspian whistled shrilly and her lips pursed, having not expected the swift sound. I can find happiness without my ribbons, she told him as a horse far taller than herself came trotting forward. She automatically shied from the huge animal and its blunt, heavy hooves, unnerved in a way she never had been when faced with heights.

Caspian swept up onto the horse's broad back and she eyed him warily. No saddle? No reins? She'd never be able to get up herself if she ever had to. Well, not leaping from cobbles. Her vertical jump suffered. Caspian offered down a hand then and she glanced over her shoulder, hesitating again. He may trust the horse, but that wasn't really the problem. Hannai didn't have much experience with animals, especially the large ones. But with a last, longing look over her shoulder she sighed and let him pull her up. He was stronger than he looked for his age, and he was younger than she'd thought at first when seeing him from upside down. She tugged the back of his jacket so he'd overhear her in her mind. Where are we going? Is there anything I'll be able to do to be useful? Her own talents were mostly flashy she knew, but she overheard a lot of things with her breezes, and she'd never yet come across a wall or surface she couldn't climb. She expressed that to him as best she could, if he was listening.

[Emiryal ♕]

As soon as Hannai was on and he was sure she wouldn't fall off he tapped Destrier lightly with his foot and the horse moved forward. Only a slight touch was needed from Caspian to guide the horse left, right or to stop. The motions he used were small just a pat on the side of the neck he wanted the horse to go. As they moved away from the burning building the crowds lessened and Caspian urged Destrier to pick up the pace slightly. "For now just away from here, I erm," he hesitated. All this time he'd been concealing his identity for his own safety. But it wasn't like she would or could tell anyone and he was leaving town anyways. If she did tell anyone it would be too late by then. He touched the horse on the left side of his neck as he made his way towards the gates out of the city. "I am a Rider for the Varden, I was here gathering some information, your show was just a contact point, coincidence really. If you want I'll let you off somewhere here in the city and you can go find somewhere to perform again. Or if you like I know the Varden would take you in. If you can climb walls and surfaces like that I'm sure they would find that very useful," he said. "It's up to you what you'd like to do."

He wouldn't force her to come with him to the Varden if she wanted to try her chances of the director taking her in, but it was another option for her and only something she could choose. It wasn't long before Destrier cleared the city gates and Caspian stopped the horse with two quick taps from his foot on the horse's side. He twisted around enough to look at Hannai and waited for her answer. If she choose to go back he'd re-enter the city and drop her off before leaving. If not, he would take her with him to the Varden. It would be a decently long journey but it would work. He knew Sephora waited for him a little ways outside the city just far enough not to risk being spotted. While he couldn't contact her yet he trusted she'd wait there for him.

Seeing the city behind triggered a thought, it was a bit far fetched but worth a shot. "Um have you by chance ever met anyone named Agnar Tarlach or Jodale Sadocson? It's kind of important to me," he said. He rather doubted she'd know but it was worth a try. Agnar was his father while Jodale was Caspian's older brother. Both of them had been drafted into the Empire's army. Since that day he hadn't heard from or seen them, he wasn't even sure if they were alive or not. He'd rather hoped on his mission here he might find one of them, but they could've been dispatched anywhere or...dead. He allowed his thoughts to be conveyed as well as his words wanting Hannai to understand how important it was for him to know. He desperately wanted to find his family, they'd been torn apart and his mother killed, but the rest of them, he wasn't sure. Even if they were dead he wanted to know, he needed to know.

[Harbor]

He was a Rider? She barely believed they still existed. And didn't that mean that there was another big animal then that she'd have to get used to? Wonderful. How was she going to get used to a dragon? That would be....different. Unexpected. Certainly not a place she had ever expected her life to go. Then again who would expect such a thing? It seemed unimaginable.

He paused at the city gates, having guided his horse there like they were two parts of one dancer. She didn't bother looking back this time. "There's nowhere else for me to go. No one else knows my name so I might as well go with you." She didn't like relying on others, so she would do her very best not to slow him down while they made their way to the infamous, illustrious Varden. She didn't know of what use a very recognizable climber and flier would be out in the wilderness...a place she didn't know very well. Weren't there bears out there? Was his dragon big enough to eat them? Or at least to scare them away?

She shivered when the crackling winter breeze wrapped around her legs like icy silk, wondering when they might stop so she could pull her day clothes on over her costume. "Could you show me their voices? Or faces? I hear a lot more than most people; voices are what I recognize best." She cut herself off from explaining about how the breezes she played were what gave her such a solid memory of sounds when she thought she saw someone slipping through the coarse shadows behind them, but didn't want to prove herself the child who panicked at nightmares and said nothing.

{Been exhausted lately, sorry.}

[Emiryal ♕]

Caspian nodded and without seeming to give the horse any sign Destier took off at a full fun along the main road so as to not appear like something was up. Once far enough away Caspian turned the horse east towards a thickly forested area and ruins of an abandoned town the name of which was long forgotten. "I'm sure the Varden will be glad to have you. Their voices, hm of course," he said hesitating as he tried to find a memory to share that would have voices. He finally decided on one of an announcement after their victory of Dras-Leona. The leaders of the Varden, comanders, anyone important had said a little something during it and while it was from his point of view, hopefully it would be enough for Hannai to get an idea of them. He left everything in the memory from sights, sounds, smells, everything. His dragon Sephora was there, the large golden dragon had glanced at him during the announcement and along with the emotions in the memory it would be clear she was his dragon.

He wanted to change clothes as well, his traveler merchant like clothes were not much to his liking and it was odd not to have the familiar weight of his sword at his side. As they approached the ruined town Destrier slowed to a trot then stopped by a well in the town's center. Most of the buildings were in desperate need of repair and some needed to be rebuilt all together. Caspian got off the horse then helped Hannai down. "You can change here, we should be safe for now. I didn't see anyone following us," he said.

Just then a loud thrumming seemed to fill the air, like a giant fan or similar. Within moments a golden dragon appeared and landed on top of the ruins of a house. Some of the brick gave way under her but most of it held which was rather surprising. Sephora lowered her head to look at both Hannai and Caspian. "Caspian who is this?" she asked. "This is Hannai, Hannai this is my dragon Sephora," he said speaking aloud for Hannai's benefit. Destrier watched the dragon but didn't seem at all fearful of her, in fact he couldn't have been calmer as he began nibbling on the few weeds that had found hold between the stones.

[Harbor]

Hannai clenched her arms around Caspian's middle when Destrier lurched into a smooth run and angled out onto the street. It was convenient, the way Caspian communicated; she might not have heard him otherwise. With the hall behind them glowing against the backdrop of stars and smoke people surged around them like water as they rushed to watch as misery unfolded. People really didn't make much sense. At least to Hannai they never had.

Hannai closed her eyes and focused herself into the sounds he gave her. The faces were useful to, but with her limited eyesight sound was the best way for her to remember. The golden presence in the memory was unnerving simply in its strangeness to her, but she circumvented it to think. Once, she thought slowly. It's not a voice I'm familiar with but it isn't a stranger to me. He's come through the hall in the last year, I'm sure of it, but I'm afraid I can't remember what he said. I wasn't listening.

Caspian led them out to a deserted town that Hannai had never visited. She looked around in despair at the disrepair that people had allowed once-sturdy buildings to come to. Nothing ought to ever be abandoned--there was always a use for it, people just didn't always see it at first. Hannai could have been useful to her family, they just didn't look hard enough.

She let Caspian help her down in a daze--in part simply because Destrier was a large animal, and therefore unpredictable. Ribbons never bit or jumped. She clutched her sparse belongings to her chest and stared about in wonder. She nodded when Caspian suggested changing--her flimsy costume wouldn't last long on the journey she suspected they were about to take. She didn't know any more than anybody else about the Varden, but they weren't likely to have the same accommodations as the theater hall.

. Hannai was glancing over her shoulder in search of somewhere to change when an unfamiliar sound glided in from overhead. She turned, gasping when she saw the hazed golden mass approaching them from above, and un characteristically tripped when she stumbled backward and away from it. She caught herself against the broken lip of the well and stood again hastily. Even though Caspian seemed rather trustworthy, having not known him very long she couldn't help but fear that he'd brought her here as a snack. But that fear was only humming, when in truth she knew she just had very little association with any animal larger than a goat, and had never wanted to.

Caspian introduced them, and Hannai stared. Why would he introduce her to a dragon? What point was there?*

But what did she know about dragons? Chances were that Caspian knew more, and wasnt speaking to the dragon as if it were a person simply out of a cute, lonely habit. The only polite thing to do in that instance would be to introduce herself, then, and offer what greetings she could, so shakily Hannai transferred her belongings to her left arm and unwrapped the braided cord around her neck, fisting the brown marble hanging from it so she wouldn't drop it and it couldn't be taken from her. Creeping forward, she picked her way around rubble and clods of dirt to come as close to the roosting dragon as she could bring herself, holding the marble up, like an offering, every muscle tight. She'd gladly explain how she'd come to be here, and all of the introduction she'd given Caspian, if the dragon would just touch the marble and could understand her.


*If Sephora spoke to Hannai too (I couldn't tell) I will edit later, and you can assume she didn't give him the wtf look.

[Emiryal ♕]

*no she didn't speak to Hannai. Not yet.

Caspian watched a smile slowly crossed his face when Hannai approached his dragon. The few times Sephora had shown herself outside of the Varden there had been quite a mix of reactions. Most of the time fear, which was understandable when the land had a tyrant rider as a king. But Hannai didn't seem afraid in that way of the golden dragon, yes he'd seen her trip and stumble back but she hadn't seemed exactly afraid or why would she approach Sephora? He ignored them for the time being and retrieved a stash of his belongings he'd hidden in the abandoned village. He pulled a sack out from between some fallen stones from an arch. He dug through the sack pulling out a shirt and some other things to change into. Something more befitting for a rider than his travel merchant disguise. He didn't need to look like that now and they'd be avoiding any contact with people so it didn't matter.

A brief panic caught him and he darted from where he'd been crouching by the sack over to the well Hannai had caught herself on earlier. He leaned as far as he could into the well, for a moment looking like he might fall in, but then he pushed himself out of it holding a golden gleaming blade in his left hand. The sheath had fallen off the blade when he'd pulled it out and was no in the bottom of the well. Great. He reached out a hand and muttered something and the sheath flew into his hand. Sheathing his blade he returned to the pile of clothes he'd taken from the sack and went around the side of a building out of sight so he could change.

Sephora hardly seemed to notice Caspian's actions as she didn't once glance at him. Her gaze remained on Hannai. She of course was aware of her rider but found no need to watch him. She lowered her head to Hannai's level, her golden eyes studying her over. She'd never known Caspian to take interest in someone like this, not since his childhood before he'd become a rider. A faint form of something similar to a smile appeared on her face as she realized that Hannai reminded Caspian of his childhood romance. Lucky for Caspian, he was out of sight as Sephora's thoughts and amusement had made him blush and feel a bit embarrassed realizing she'd figured it out. "Don't you dare say anything," he said to the dragon. "She reminds me of her, but that's it. It's different, that was a long time ago."

Sephora didn't outwardly react to Caspian's words knowing better than to tease him like that. She wasn't the type to do so anyways for the sake of embarrassing someone. Suppressing the thought she focused back on Hannai realizing she'd been staring at the girl who was holding the marble towards her. "Greetings little one," she said to Hannai. "Caspian holds you in high regard. It seems you made quite an impression on him." She leaned forward very slightly but the movement was enough to touch her nose to the marble Hannai held out. It seemed to be a token, or offering and felt like the right thing to do.