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There were some people in Vasiliadon who idolized the Order. Young men wanted to join and prove their manliness, give back to the community. To the poor, it was something to do, a way to be useful and to gain prestige. It was a way to mingle on a personal level with the social elite. For Stephanos, this life was decidedly less glamorous than most people believed. He walked the streets, spear in hand, sword at his hip, helm on, dressed in the breastplate and tunic of the order, grieves on his shins, looking every inch the soldier...except this was all he’d been doing. All. Day. Long. Walking, walking, walking.
He could only do so many turns around the same area of the city before he lost his mind. The sun was tilting towards evening but the sky still maintained a heartbreaking amount of blue. His shift was not over until the expanse above turned gorgeous shades of pink, vermillion, gold, and orange. In the warm glow of waning afternoon, his armor gleamed brilliantly while his expression was decidedly bored.
Then, blessed sound! A scream. He froze on the cobblestones, one hand grasping the spear, the other hand poised at his ear, listening hard for where the origin of the shout came from. With the buildings all around, it was echoing. Another scream, followed by a successive cursing slur, and Stephanos was off and running. At last! Something to actually do! He couldn’t contain his glee when he rounded the corner and found the delight of his day: a street brawl.
“Hey, hey!” he shouted, throwing an arm out, now doing a masterful job of putting on a scowl he didn’t feel. “Break it up!” Before him was the kind of scene he usually hoped for on patrols. A tavern, door open, torchlight spilling out into the shadowed street, with the sun already well past its zenith. Patrons of the tavern, some with their cups of beer, some sporting wine, most already well on the way to drunk, staring in various states of emotion. Some had their mouths open, their eyes half lidded, stupified by the tumult before them. A few were on the sides of the brawl, egging it on, jeering. Some cheered. A few rushed into the fray, slapping the back of whoever was closest to get the fight to stop, and only succeeding in getting themselves shoved back.
From what he could see, there looked to be several men involved and about two women right in the center of it, looking harassed and needing out. “I said break it up!” Stephanos stalked forward, spear out, but turning it to the butt end of the spear. If he didn’t have to get violent first, he wouldn’t. Taking an almighty thwack to the first man, he shouted again. “Stop fighting or I’ll have you all in the fylaki to sleep it off!”
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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There were some people in Vasiliadon who idolized the Order. Young men wanted to join and prove their manliness, give back to the community. To the poor, it was something to do, a way to be useful and to gain prestige. It was a way to mingle on a personal level with the social elite. For Stephanos, this life was decidedly less glamorous than most people believed. He walked the streets, spear in hand, sword at his hip, helm on, dressed in the breastplate and tunic of the order, grieves on his shins, looking every inch the soldier...except this was all he’d been doing. All. Day. Long. Walking, walking, walking.
He could only do so many turns around the same area of the city before he lost his mind. The sun was tilting towards evening but the sky still maintained a heartbreaking amount of blue. His shift was not over until the expanse above turned gorgeous shades of pink, vermillion, gold, and orange. In the warm glow of waning afternoon, his armor gleamed brilliantly while his expression was decidedly bored.
Then, blessed sound! A scream. He froze on the cobblestones, one hand grasping the spear, the other hand poised at his ear, listening hard for where the origin of the shout came from. With the buildings all around, it was echoing. Another scream, followed by a successive cursing slur, and Stephanos was off and running. At last! Something to actually do! He couldn’t contain his glee when he rounded the corner and found the delight of his day: a street brawl.
“Hey, hey!” he shouted, throwing an arm out, now doing a masterful job of putting on a scowl he didn’t feel. “Break it up!” Before him was the kind of scene he usually hoped for on patrols. A tavern, door open, torchlight spilling out into the shadowed street, with the sun already well past its zenith. Patrons of the tavern, some with their cups of beer, some sporting wine, most already well on the way to drunk, staring in various states of emotion. Some had their mouths open, their eyes half lidded, stupified by the tumult before them. A few were on the sides of the brawl, egging it on, jeering. Some cheered. A few rushed into the fray, slapping the back of whoever was closest to get the fight to stop, and only succeeding in getting themselves shoved back.
From what he could see, there looked to be several men involved and about two women right in the center of it, looking harassed and needing out. “I said break it up!” Stephanos stalked forward, spear out, but turning it to the butt end of the spear. If he didn’t have to get violent first, he wouldn’t. Taking an almighty thwack to the first man, he shouted again. “Stop fighting or I’ll have you all in the fylaki to sleep it off!”
There were some people in Vasiliadon who idolized the Order. Young men wanted to join and prove their manliness, give back to the community. To the poor, it was something to do, a way to be useful and to gain prestige. It was a way to mingle on a personal level with the social elite. For Stephanos, this life was decidedly less glamorous than most people believed. He walked the streets, spear in hand, sword at his hip, helm on, dressed in the breastplate and tunic of the order, grieves on his shins, looking every inch the soldier...except this was all he’d been doing. All. Day. Long. Walking, walking, walking.
He could only do so many turns around the same area of the city before he lost his mind. The sun was tilting towards evening but the sky still maintained a heartbreaking amount of blue. His shift was not over until the expanse above turned gorgeous shades of pink, vermillion, gold, and orange. In the warm glow of waning afternoon, his armor gleamed brilliantly while his expression was decidedly bored.
Then, blessed sound! A scream. He froze on the cobblestones, one hand grasping the spear, the other hand poised at his ear, listening hard for where the origin of the shout came from. With the buildings all around, it was echoing. Another scream, followed by a successive cursing slur, and Stephanos was off and running. At last! Something to actually do! He couldn’t contain his glee when he rounded the corner and found the delight of his day: a street brawl.
“Hey, hey!” he shouted, throwing an arm out, now doing a masterful job of putting on a scowl he didn’t feel. “Break it up!” Before him was the kind of scene he usually hoped for on patrols. A tavern, door open, torchlight spilling out into the shadowed street, with the sun already well past its zenith. Patrons of the tavern, some with their cups of beer, some sporting wine, most already well on the way to drunk, staring in various states of emotion. Some had their mouths open, their eyes half lidded, stupified by the tumult before them. A few were on the sides of the brawl, egging it on, jeering. Some cheered. A few rushed into the fray, slapping the back of whoever was closest to get the fight to stop, and only succeeding in getting themselves shoved back.
From what he could see, there looked to be several men involved and about two women right in the center of it, looking harassed and needing out. “I said break it up!” Stephanos stalked forward, spear out, but turning it to the butt end of the spear. If he didn’t have to get violent first, he wouldn’t. Taking an almighty thwack to the first man, he shouted again. “Stop fighting or I’ll have you all in the fylaki to sleep it off!”
You would think after eight years, Zenais would finally feel at home when it came to Vasiliadon. And in a way, Zenais was... used to the capitol? She knew she would get the cries of people in the morning, knew the immense amount of wine and horses in the city, how the cries of the gulls sounded like in the evening, and could recognize the bustle of the dockside area where she lived in. Yet none of it was familiar, not like it was back in Lyncaea where she truly felt at home. But then again, perhaps it was the people, and not the location, that mattered.
While she may not feel at home however, one could not deny she was familiar with the place, and how she navigated it like anyone who had stayed in Vasiliadon long enough would. Out to purchase some supplies needed for the kitchen in the dockside tavern she worked for, it was a brisk evening as she procured all that had been instructed for her to purchase, and the coin pouch she held was decidedly lighter by the time her basket was full and she began to make her way back.
She was this close, so close to the entrance of the tavern, and for a brief moment, Zenais was not at all paying attention to who was located at the area. She knew that the time was the busiest for the tavern, as people flocked in for their evening meal or just to wind down after a long day's work, and Zenais was making a mental note of what she had to do, so she could launch straight into work once she got in.
Distracted as she was, the brunette had plowed directly into a large, definitely drunken dockside worker, who roared in anger. Blind from the drink he had, Zenais would've been beaten to pulp had another girl not screamed, and then a man jumped in to help her.
Well-intended the man may be, but his half-drunken stagger knocked into Zenais, and the next thing she knew she felt the fruits she had bought scatter along with the oils and meats, whilst some of it spilled on her rough brown linen dress, as her bottom fell to the ground and palms scraped the floor. Her first instinct was to crawl out of the brawl that was beginning, but as Zenais tried, the way out was blocked as more and more spectators surrounded them, and with her small stature, there was no way she was about to muscle her way out.
That is, until the sound of galloping hooves took her attention, causing her to look up, or try to, over the shoulders of the brawling men. The man that had just rode up appeared to be a uniformed one, but the girl could not get a clear look through the mess of limbs, until a thwack on one of the man's head caused him to growl, and turn with angered eyes to the new arrival.
Obviously, he wasn't happy, if one was to go by the flared nostrils and growling that was happening.
Now, Zenais was not one to instigate fights - if anything, she was trying to stay out of the limelight, for the Gods wouldn't be able to save her if anyone were to find out who she was before her arrival in Vasiliadon. But neither could she imagine continue to stay where she was at the mercy of drunkards itching for a fight. So taking advantage of the man's distraction from the newcomer, Zenais tried to crawl out from under his feet- one second too late. The brawler's anger seemingly reaching to a peak, he took one step - a hard swing that caught her right at the abdomen, resulting in Zenais's scream being kicked right out of her as she rolled across the dirt floor like a sack of flour tossed across a field.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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You would think after eight years, Zenais would finally feel at home when it came to Vasiliadon. And in a way, Zenais was... used to the capitol? She knew she would get the cries of people in the morning, knew the immense amount of wine and horses in the city, how the cries of the gulls sounded like in the evening, and could recognize the bustle of the dockside area where she lived in. Yet none of it was familiar, not like it was back in Lyncaea where she truly felt at home. But then again, perhaps it was the people, and not the location, that mattered.
While she may not feel at home however, one could not deny she was familiar with the place, and how she navigated it like anyone who had stayed in Vasiliadon long enough would. Out to purchase some supplies needed for the kitchen in the dockside tavern she worked for, it was a brisk evening as she procured all that had been instructed for her to purchase, and the coin pouch she held was decidedly lighter by the time her basket was full and she began to make her way back.
She was this close, so close to the entrance of the tavern, and for a brief moment, Zenais was not at all paying attention to who was located at the area. She knew that the time was the busiest for the tavern, as people flocked in for their evening meal or just to wind down after a long day's work, and Zenais was making a mental note of what she had to do, so she could launch straight into work once she got in.
Distracted as she was, the brunette had plowed directly into a large, definitely drunken dockside worker, who roared in anger. Blind from the drink he had, Zenais would've been beaten to pulp had another girl not screamed, and then a man jumped in to help her.
Well-intended the man may be, but his half-drunken stagger knocked into Zenais, and the next thing she knew she felt the fruits she had bought scatter along with the oils and meats, whilst some of it spilled on her rough brown linen dress, as her bottom fell to the ground and palms scraped the floor. Her first instinct was to crawl out of the brawl that was beginning, but as Zenais tried, the way out was blocked as more and more spectators surrounded them, and with her small stature, there was no way she was about to muscle her way out.
That is, until the sound of galloping hooves took her attention, causing her to look up, or try to, over the shoulders of the brawling men. The man that had just rode up appeared to be a uniformed one, but the girl could not get a clear look through the mess of limbs, until a thwack on one of the man's head caused him to growl, and turn with angered eyes to the new arrival.
Obviously, he wasn't happy, if one was to go by the flared nostrils and growling that was happening.
Now, Zenais was not one to instigate fights - if anything, she was trying to stay out of the limelight, for the Gods wouldn't be able to save her if anyone were to find out who she was before her arrival in Vasiliadon. But neither could she imagine continue to stay where she was at the mercy of drunkards itching for a fight. So taking advantage of the man's distraction from the newcomer, Zenais tried to crawl out from under his feet- one second too late. The brawler's anger seemingly reaching to a peak, he took one step - a hard swing that caught her right at the abdomen, resulting in Zenais's scream being kicked right out of her as she rolled across the dirt floor like a sack of flour tossed across a field.
You would think after eight years, Zenais would finally feel at home when it came to Vasiliadon. And in a way, Zenais was... used to the capitol? She knew she would get the cries of people in the morning, knew the immense amount of wine and horses in the city, how the cries of the gulls sounded like in the evening, and could recognize the bustle of the dockside area where she lived in. Yet none of it was familiar, not like it was back in Lyncaea where she truly felt at home. But then again, perhaps it was the people, and not the location, that mattered.
While she may not feel at home however, one could not deny she was familiar with the place, and how she navigated it like anyone who had stayed in Vasiliadon long enough would. Out to purchase some supplies needed for the kitchen in the dockside tavern she worked for, it was a brisk evening as she procured all that had been instructed for her to purchase, and the coin pouch she held was decidedly lighter by the time her basket was full and she began to make her way back.
She was this close, so close to the entrance of the tavern, and for a brief moment, Zenais was not at all paying attention to who was located at the area. She knew that the time was the busiest for the tavern, as people flocked in for their evening meal or just to wind down after a long day's work, and Zenais was making a mental note of what she had to do, so she could launch straight into work once she got in.
Distracted as she was, the brunette had plowed directly into a large, definitely drunken dockside worker, who roared in anger. Blind from the drink he had, Zenais would've been beaten to pulp had another girl not screamed, and then a man jumped in to help her.
Well-intended the man may be, but his half-drunken stagger knocked into Zenais, and the next thing she knew she felt the fruits she had bought scatter along with the oils and meats, whilst some of it spilled on her rough brown linen dress, as her bottom fell to the ground and palms scraped the floor. Her first instinct was to crawl out of the brawl that was beginning, but as Zenais tried, the way out was blocked as more and more spectators surrounded them, and with her small stature, there was no way she was about to muscle her way out.
That is, until the sound of galloping hooves took her attention, causing her to look up, or try to, over the shoulders of the brawling men. The man that had just rode up appeared to be a uniformed one, but the girl could not get a clear look through the mess of limbs, until a thwack on one of the man's head caused him to growl, and turn with angered eyes to the new arrival.
Obviously, he wasn't happy, if one was to go by the flared nostrils and growling that was happening.
Now, Zenais was not one to instigate fights - if anything, she was trying to stay out of the limelight, for the Gods wouldn't be able to save her if anyone were to find out who she was before her arrival in Vasiliadon. But neither could she imagine continue to stay where she was at the mercy of drunkards itching for a fight. So taking advantage of the man's distraction from the newcomer, Zenais tried to crawl out from under his feet- one second too late. The brawler's anger seemingly reaching to a peak, he took one step - a hard swing that caught her right at the abdomen, resulting in Zenais's scream being kicked right out of her as she rolled across the dirt floor like a sack of flour tossed across a field.
Stephanos was hardly the only Order member patrolling the streets, nor was he the only one to have heard the scream, or the successive scream from Zenais. The other member of the Order flew to the scene, just as Stephanos had, spear at the ready, and came at the fight from the other side. Some people were unaware of the men’s presence, or of the girl trapped beneath them. Stephanos hadn’t seen her get kicked, but he didn’t need to. The fight itself was bad enough to warrant getting broken up.
Out of the corner of his eye, he did notice fruit rolling across the cobbles but an elbow came out of nowhere and jammed his helm hard against his face. Forced a step back, he shook his head and then threw himself back into the fray. The tangle of limbs, grunts, howls, and jeers was the best thing he’d experienced in two weeks. How long it took, he didn’t know, but together with his counterpart on the other side of the fight, they managed to threaten, thwack, and force apart the combatants, to reveal several people, Zenais among them, who’d been caught on the ground.
“Here,” Stephanos bent down, retrieving Zenais first because she was closest to him. From where he’d stood, all he saw was a young peasant woman. Her face was not visible. Judging from the ruination of fruit around her and the oil stained upon her garments, he was guessing that it was from her that the mess had come. Not her fault, of course, but it had been her basket that had been knocked into. “Stay here, please,” he said to her, hauling her up and depositing her against the wall of the tavern before going back to assist several others. Now that he’d broken up the fight, he had to deal with the repercussions of it, too. That part he hadn’t thought about in his initial excitement. All the people involved, including the-trodden-upon, would need to come to the Order house to sort out damages.
With the assistance of the other Order member and a few from the crowd, the two men who’d begun the brawl were restrained. Neither he, nor his brother in arms carried manacles on their person during rounds. It wasn’t practical, nor was it usually necessary. He didn’t think either of these two were liable to run and if they did, he’d thwack them with the spear again. Usually that was all the force he had to use. Not a bloodthirsty person, Stephanos was happy enough with brawls and didn’t need blood to be satisfied.
With the little group assembled in a nice, orderly fashion, Stephanos gestured over at Zenais but did a double take once he saw her features clearly for the first time. Before, he’d been a little preoccupied, but now that the excitement had died down a bit, he saw that she was far from the little mousey peasant he’d first taken her for. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern for her wellbeing, while definitely being there before, was more pronounced, now. He reached out a hand, intending to take her gently by the upper arm.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Stephanos was hardly the only Order member patrolling the streets, nor was he the only one to have heard the scream, or the successive scream from Zenais. The other member of the Order flew to the scene, just as Stephanos had, spear at the ready, and came at the fight from the other side. Some people were unaware of the men’s presence, or of the girl trapped beneath them. Stephanos hadn’t seen her get kicked, but he didn’t need to. The fight itself was bad enough to warrant getting broken up.
Out of the corner of his eye, he did notice fruit rolling across the cobbles but an elbow came out of nowhere and jammed his helm hard against his face. Forced a step back, he shook his head and then threw himself back into the fray. The tangle of limbs, grunts, howls, and jeers was the best thing he’d experienced in two weeks. How long it took, he didn’t know, but together with his counterpart on the other side of the fight, they managed to threaten, thwack, and force apart the combatants, to reveal several people, Zenais among them, who’d been caught on the ground.
“Here,” Stephanos bent down, retrieving Zenais first because she was closest to him. From where he’d stood, all he saw was a young peasant woman. Her face was not visible. Judging from the ruination of fruit around her and the oil stained upon her garments, he was guessing that it was from her that the mess had come. Not her fault, of course, but it had been her basket that had been knocked into. “Stay here, please,” he said to her, hauling her up and depositing her against the wall of the tavern before going back to assist several others. Now that he’d broken up the fight, he had to deal with the repercussions of it, too. That part he hadn’t thought about in his initial excitement. All the people involved, including the-trodden-upon, would need to come to the Order house to sort out damages.
With the assistance of the other Order member and a few from the crowd, the two men who’d begun the brawl were restrained. Neither he, nor his brother in arms carried manacles on their person during rounds. It wasn’t practical, nor was it usually necessary. He didn’t think either of these two were liable to run and if they did, he’d thwack them with the spear again. Usually that was all the force he had to use. Not a bloodthirsty person, Stephanos was happy enough with brawls and didn’t need blood to be satisfied.
With the little group assembled in a nice, orderly fashion, Stephanos gestured over at Zenais but did a double take once he saw her features clearly for the first time. Before, he’d been a little preoccupied, but now that the excitement had died down a bit, he saw that she was far from the little mousey peasant he’d first taken her for. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern for her wellbeing, while definitely being there before, was more pronounced, now. He reached out a hand, intending to take her gently by the upper arm.
Stephanos was hardly the only Order member patrolling the streets, nor was he the only one to have heard the scream, or the successive scream from Zenais. The other member of the Order flew to the scene, just as Stephanos had, spear at the ready, and came at the fight from the other side. Some people were unaware of the men’s presence, or of the girl trapped beneath them. Stephanos hadn’t seen her get kicked, but he didn’t need to. The fight itself was bad enough to warrant getting broken up.
Out of the corner of his eye, he did notice fruit rolling across the cobbles but an elbow came out of nowhere and jammed his helm hard against his face. Forced a step back, he shook his head and then threw himself back into the fray. The tangle of limbs, grunts, howls, and jeers was the best thing he’d experienced in two weeks. How long it took, he didn’t know, but together with his counterpart on the other side of the fight, they managed to threaten, thwack, and force apart the combatants, to reveal several people, Zenais among them, who’d been caught on the ground.
“Here,” Stephanos bent down, retrieving Zenais first because she was closest to him. From where he’d stood, all he saw was a young peasant woman. Her face was not visible. Judging from the ruination of fruit around her and the oil stained upon her garments, he was guessing that it was from her that the mess had come. Not her fault, of course, but it had been her basket that had been knocked into. “Stay here, please,” he said to her, hauling her up and depositing her against the wall of the tavern before going back to assist several others. Now that he’d broken up the fight, he had to deal with the repercussions of it, too. That part he hadn’t thought about in his initial excitement. All the people involved, including the-trodden-upon, would need to come to the Order house to sort out damages.
With the assistance of the other Order member and a few from the crowd, the two men who’d begun the brawl were restrained. Neither he, nor his brother in arms carried manacles on their person during rounds. It wasn’t practical, nor was it usually necessary. He didn’t think either of these two were liable to run and if they did, he’d thwack them with the spear again. Usually that was all the force he had to use. Not a bloodthirsty person, Stephanos was happy enough with brawls and didn’t need blood to be satisfied.
With the little group assembled in a nice, orderly fashion, Stephanos gestured over at Zenais but did a double take once he saw her features clearly for the first time. Before, he’d been a little preoccupied, but now that the excitement had died down a bit, he saw that she was far from the little mousey peasant he’d first taken her for. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern for her wellbeing, while definitely being there before, was more pronounced, now. He reached out a hand, intending to take her gently by the upper arm.
Fully believing she was about to get trampled on and at the very least gain scratches all over her body, Zenais found herself surprised when the tussling men above her were suddenly pulled apart, and the next thing she knew the brunette was pulled up and hauled to a side, left quite surprised and breathless as the Order members immediately dived back into the fold to get the fight settled and over with.
In her surprise, Zenais found herself staring opened mouthed at the efficiency of those in the Order, slightly charmed by how easily they handled the perpetrators and hauled the ones who needed to be further disciplined back to their house. Enraptured as she was, she did not notice at all until one of them turned over to her.
Only then, was Zenais suddenly acutely aware of how messy her usually silken locks were, or her oil-stained dress which was now probably unsalvageable and she now had to fork out what meagre coins she had to purchase another new one, or risk not gaining customers at her tables for her job. Biting her bottom lip as he walked over and then addressed her, Zenais cleared her throat in a clear sign of nerves, before nodding.
"Y-yes, sir. Thank you for coming to my aid." she murmured, a small smile flashed in his direction as she gazed up at him with her blue eyes. But her gazing upon her toes led to her eyes seeing the ruined fruit and broken jars of oil. Unable to help the small sigh of dissapointment, the brunette took a deep breath and gave a firmer gaze to the Order member who had spoken to her - only to suddenly be struck by how handsome the man was. Blond hair, blue eyes... what was it about him that made her unable to tear her eyes away from him?
Suddenly realizing she had been staring and gaping for a tad longer then was polite, Zenais quickly started herself out of her reverie, giving a nervous laugh, instinctively biting her lip again as she took an anxious step backwards - only for her back to meet the wall of the tavern. "I-I assume everything is alright for now?" she asked, intentionally averting the gaze of the man who was far too disconcerting when it came to his presence affecting hers. Instead, Zenais gazed out at the ruined basket of goods she had bought, surveying the damage. Obviously everything would have to be replaced, but she'd have to go in and tell her employer first before she headed out again.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Fully believing she was about to get trampled on and at the very least gain scratches all over her body, Zenais found herself surprised when the tussling men above her were suddenly pulled apart, and the next thing she knew the brunette was pulled up and hauled to a side, left quite surprised and breathless as the Order members immediately dived back into the fold to get the fight settled and over with.
In her surprise, Zenais found herself staring opened mouthed at the efficiency of those in the Order, slightly charmed by how easily they handled the perpetrators and hauled the ones who needed to be further disciplined back to their house. Enraptured as she was, she did not notice at all until one of them turned over to her.
Only then, was Zenais suddenly acutely aware of how messy her usually silken locks were, or her oil-stained dress which was now probably unsalvageable and she now had to fork out what meagre coins she had to purchase another new one, or risk not gaining customers at her tables for her job. Biting her bottom lip as he walked over and then addressed her, Zenais cleared her throat in a clear sign of nerves, before nodding.
"Y-yes, sir. Thank you for coming to my aid." she murmured, a small smile flashed in his direction as she gazed up at him with her blue eyes. But her gazing upon her toes led to her eyes seeing the ruined fruit and broken jars of oil. Unable to help the small sigh of dissapointment, the brunette took a deep breath and gave a firmer gaze to the Order member who had spoken to her - only to suddenly be struck by how handsome the man was. Blond hair, blue eyes... what was it about him that made her unable to tear her eyes away from him?
Suddenly realizing she had been staring and gaping for a tad longer then was polite, Zenais quickly started herself out of her reverie, giving a nervous laugh, instinctively biting her lip again as she took an anxious step backwards - only for her back to meet the wall of the tavern. "I-I assume everything is alright for now?" she asked, intentionally averting the gaze of the man who was far too disconcerting when it came to his presence affecting hers. Instead, Zenais gazed out at the ruined basket of goods she had bought, surveying the damage. Obviously everything would have to be replaced, but she'd have to go in and tell her employer first before she headed out again.
Fully believing she was about to get trampled on and at the very least gain scratches all over her body, Zenais found herself surprised when the tussling men above her were suddenly pulled apart, and the next thing she knew the brunette was pulled up and hauled to a side, left quite surprised and breathless as the Order members immediately dived back into the fold to get the fight settled and over with.
In her surprise, Zenais found herself staring opened mouthed at the efficiency of those in the Order, slightly charmed by how easily they handled the perpetrators and hauled the ones who needed to be further disciplined back to their house. Enraptured as she was, she did not notice at all until one of them turned over to her.
Only then, was Zenais suddenly acutely aware of how messy her usually silken locks were, or her oil-stained dress which was now probably unsalvageable and she now had to fork out what meagre coins she had to purchase another new one, or risk not gaining customers at her tables for her job. Biting her bottom lip as he walked over and then addressed her, Zenais cleared her throat in a clear sign of nerves, before nodding.
"Y-yes, sir. Thank you for coming to my aid." she murmured, a small smile flashed in his direction as she gazed up at him with her blue eyes. But her gazing upon her toes led to her eyes seeing the ruined fruit and broken jars of oil. Unable to help the small sigh of dissapointment, the brunette took a deep breath and gave a firmer gaze to the Order member who had spoken to her - only to suddenly be struck by how handsome the man was. Blond hair, blue eyes... what was it about him that made her unable to tear her eyes away from him?
Suddenly realizing she had been staring and gaping for a tad longer then was polite, Zenais quickly started herself out of her reverie, giving a nervous laugh, instinctively biting her lip again as she took an anxious step backwards - only for her back to meet the wall of the tavern. "I-I assume everything is alright for now?" she asked, intentionally averting the gaze of the man who was far too disconcerting when it came to his presence affecting hers. Instead, Zenais gazed out at the ruined basket of goods she had bought, surveying the damage. Obviously everything would have to be replaced, but she'd have to go in and tell her employer first before she headed out again.
The dimpled smile and wide blue eyes she’d flashed at him were quite enough for him to forgive the state of her appearance. Besides, Stephanos liked tousled hair. It was reminiscent of what she might look like in the morning after a thorough romp in his bed. Not that he planned to take her there...though he wouldn’t mind. Letting go of her, he followed her gaze as it swept to the scores of bruised fruit and broken oil jars. He glanced back at her to find her staring at him and then smiled in mild confusion when she giggled.
“What is it?” he asked, touching his face to make sure there wasn’t some sort of mud or some other random bit of whatever might have been flung up from the fight. She stepped backwards until her back met the wall and Stephanos turned fully to her, wondering what on earth was going on with this girl. She was acting shy and it was making him want to figure out why.
"I-I assume everything is alright for now?" she said meekly. Again her eyes left him and went to the street where people were shifting about, talking with one another, discussing the fight that had just happened in an endless circle of murmuring voices.
“Except your basket,” he moved out to the street, bending over to pick that up and began to put in the salvageable portions of her things into it. Before he’d joined the Order, Stephanos wouldn’t have bothered to pick anything up for her. Why should he? He was a prince, and she was a peasant, no matter how beautiful she might be. Since his time with his brothers, he’d grown to be a bit more compassionate than that. Being on one’s hands and knees, scrubbing every stone on a street tended to force some humility into a person. Aside from that, being around people of inferior birth constantly had done enough to show him that there was no difference between them other than having the good fortune to be born to royal parents. And he knew full well, from having to perform charity acts regularly, that she would be having to replace her dress at her own expense.
“What’s your name?” he asked, motioning her over to join him. “Let’s see about replacing these.” Though he was part of the Order, money still meant very little to him because he had an infinite amount of it. Or it seemed like it, at any rate. Helping her recoup her loss was a nice thing for him to do at no cost to him personally. And Krateros would rip him a new one if he found out he hadn’t done that, too. An extra, though unnecessary, incentive.
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The dimpled smile and wide blue eyes she’d flashed at him were quite enough for him to forgive the state of her appearance. Besides, Stephanos liked tousled hair. It was reminiscent of what she might look like in the morning after a thorough romp in his bed. Not that he planned to take her there...though he wouldn’t mind. Letting go of her, he followed her gaze as it swept to the scores of bruised fruit and broken oil jars. He glanced back at her to find her staring at him and then smiled in mild confusion when she giggled.
“What is it?” he asked, touching his face to make sure there wasn’t some sort of mud or some other random bit of whatever might have been flung up from the fight. She stepped backwards until her back met the wall and Stephanos turned fully to her, wondering what on earth was going on with this girl. She was acting shy and it was making him want to figure out why.
"I-I assume everything is alright for now?" she said meekly. Again her eyes left him and went to the street where people were shifting about, talking with one another, discussing the fight that had just happened in an endless circle of murmuring voices.
“Except your basket,” he moved out to the street, bending over to pick that up and began to put in the salvageable portions of her things into it. Before he’d joined the Order, Stephanos wouldn’t have bothered to pick anything up for her. Why should he? He was a prince, and she was a peasant, no matter how beautiful she might be. Since his time with his brothers, he’d grown to be a bit more compassionate than that. Being on one’s hands and knees, scrubbing every stone on a street tended to force some humility into a person. Aside from that, being around people of inferior birth constantly had done enough to show him that there was no difference between them other than having the good fortune to be born to royal parents. And he knew full well, from having to perform charity acts regularly, that she would be having to replace her dress at her own expense.
“What’s your name?” he asked, motioning her over to join him. “Let’s see about replacing these.” Though he was part of the Order, money still meant very little to him because he had an infinite amount of it. Or it seemed like it, at any rate. Helping her recoup her loss was a nice thing for him to do at no cost to him personally. And Krateros would rip him a new one if he found out he hadn’t done that, too. An extra, though unnecessary, incentive.
The dimpled smile and wide blue eyes she’d flashed at him were quite enough for him to forgive the state of her appearance. Besides, Stephanos liked tousled hair. It was reminiscent of what she might look like in the morning after a thorough romp in his bed. Not that he planned to take her there...though he wouldn’t mind. Letting go of her, he followed her gaze as it swept to the scores of bruised fruit and broken oil jars. He glanced back at her to find her staring at him and then smiled in mild confusion when she giggled.
“What is it?” he asked, touching his face to make sure there wasn’t some sort of mud or some other random bit of whatever might have been flung up from the fight. She stepped backwards until her back met the wall and Stephanos turned fully to her, wondering what on earth was going on with this girl. She was acting shy and it was making him want to figure out why.
"I-I assume everything is alright for now?" she said meekly. Again her eyes left him and went to the street where people were shifting about, talking with one another, discussing the fight that had just happened in an endless circle of murmuring voices.
“Except your basket,” he moved out to the street, bending over to pick that up and began to put in the salvageable portions of her things into it. Before he’d joined the Order, Stephanos wouldn’t have bothered to pick anything up for her. Why should he? He was a prince, and she was a peasant, no matter how beautiful she might be. Since his time with his brothers, he’d grown to be a bit more compassionate than that. Being on one’s hands and knees, scrubbing every stone on a street tended to force some humility into a person. Aside from that, being around people of inferior birth constantly had done enough to show him that there was no difference between them other than having the good fortune to be born to royal parents. And he knew full well, from having to perform charity acts regularly, that she would be having to replace her dress at her own expense.
“What’s your name?” he asked, motioning her over to join him. “Let’s see about replacing these.” Though he was part of the Order, money still meant very little to him because he had an infinite amount of it. Or it seemed like it, at any rate. Helping her recoup her loss was a nice thing for him to do at no cost to him personally. And Krateros would rip him a new one if he found out he hadn’t done that, too. An extra, though unnecessary, incentive.
Zenais tried to avert her eyes from him, only to realize the warmth on her cheeks as she did so. Did she usually react this way to anyone? Of course not. Her parents had taught her to be discreet in her thoughts when she was younger and still raised as a noble girl expected to make a good marriage as she grew up in Lyncaea. Her tutors had taught Zenais to not outwardly show what she felt... so what was it about this blond Order member?
Steadfastly reminding herself inwardly to not be a tittering fool, the blue eyes of the girl flickered back to the man as he moved to pick up her basket, and Zenais took a moment to be surprised that a member of the Order was actually helping her, before she flew to his side to try just as he motioned at her. "Oh, that's really not necessary sir." she murmured, still pointedly trying to avert her gaze from meeting his own. She would not lose her mind over a handsome face, it was unbecoming! Besides, she was in no position nor status to swoon over who was assuredly someone of higher hierarchy then she was here in Taengea.
Quickly hiking her skirts up a little so she could kneel on the cobbled floor, the girl quickly picked up the scattered but ruined goods. Why they were picking it up when the fruits and items were decidedly ruined by now was beyond Zenais, but she assumed they couldn't leave stuff rotting on the streets which may endanger others? Whichever way it was, she quickly tried to pick stuff up, jerking away if her fingers accidentally brushed the man's, before standing up with her basket now filled with ruined goods.
With another sharp, firm reminder to herself in her head to not act like a fool, the brunette finally flashed a smile at the man as she gave him another curtsy. "I'll go and buy the necessary replacements myself, really. I wouldn't want to trouble your time."
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Zenais tried to avert her eyes from him, only to realize the warmth on her cheeks as she did so. Did she usually react this way to anyone? Of course not. Her parents had taught her to be discreet in her thoughts when she was younger and still raised as a noble girl expected to make a good marriage as she grew up in Lyncaea. Her tutors had taught Zenais to not outwardly show what she felt... so what was it about this blond Order member?
Steadfastly reminding herself inwardly to not be a tittering fool, the blue eyes of the girl flickered back to the man as he moved to pick up her basket, and Zenais took a moment to be surprised that a member of the Order was actually helping her, before she flew to his side to try just as he motioned at her. "Oh, that's really not necessary sir." she murmured, still pointedly trying to avert her gaze from meeting his own. She would not lose her mind over a handsome face, it was unbecoming! Besides, she was in no position nor status to swoon over who was assuredly someone of higher hierarchy then she was here in Taengea.
Quickly hiking her skirts up a little so she could kneel on the cobbled floor, the girl quickly picked up the scattered but ruined goods. Why they were picking it up when the fruits and items were decidedly ruined by now was beyond Zenais, but she assumed they couldn't leave stuff rotting on the streets which may endanger others? Whichever way it was, she quickly tried to pick stuff up, jerking away if her fingers accidentally brushed the man's, before standing up with her basket now filled with ruined goods.
With another sharp, firm reminder to herself in her head to not act like a fool, the brunette finally flashed a smile at the man as she gave him another curtsy. "I'll go and buy the necessary replacements myself, really. I wouldn't want to trouble your time."
Zenais tried to avert her eyes from him, only to realize the warmth on her cheeks as she did so. Did she usually react this way to anyone? Of course not. Her parents had taught her to be discreet in her thoughts when she was younger and still raised as a noble girl expected to make a good marriage as she grew up in Lyncaea. Her tutors had taught Zenais to not outwardly show what she felt... so what was it about this blond Order member?
Steadfastly reminding herself inwardly to not be a tittering fool, the blue eyes of the girl flickered back to the man as he moved to pick up her basket, and Zenais took a moment to be surprised that a member of the Order was actually helping her, before she flew to his side to try just as he motioned at her. "Oh, that's really not necessary sir." she murmured, still pointedly trying to avert her gaze from meeting his own. She would not lose her mind over a handsome face, it was unbecoming! Besides, she was in no position nor status to swoon over who was assuredly someone of higher hierarchy then she was here in Taengea.
Quickly hiking her skirts up a little so she could kneel on the cobbled floor, the girl quickly picked up the scattered but ruined goods. Why they were picking it up when the fruits and items were decidedly ruined by now was beyond Zenais, but she assumed they couldn't leave stuff rotting on the streets which may endanger others? Whichever way it was, she quickly tried to pick stuff up, jerking away if her fingers accidentally brushed the man's, before standing up with her basket now filled with ruined goods.
With another sharp, firm reminder to herself in her head to not act like a fool, the brunette finally flashed a smile at the man as she gave him another curtsy. "I'll go and buy the necessary replacements myself, really. I wouldn't want to trouble your time."
"Oh, that's really not necessary sir,” the woman appeared at his side, seemingly out of thin air and Stephanos raised an eyebrow at the ‘sir’. It was rare for someone not to know him by sight alone, but not unheard of. Especially people who weren’t originally from Vasiliadon. Except, he did make appearances with his family, so he guessed this girl never visited the circus on racing days, never went to any events, and possibly never saw the outside of the tavern except to go to market. That or he was just not that memorable...but he dismissed that last thought. Everyone remembered him. Her reaction to him was actually fairly common, he’d found. When he was younger, he’d been delighted with the tittering and giggling and blushes. In recent times, it was distracting, especially if there was nothing he could do to bring this girl’s very blatant infatuation to fruition. He didn’t have the time. He was on patrol.
He could make it a point to see her later…
“Krateros thinks so,” he said in response to her assurances that help was not necessary. Krateros, leader of the Order, thought that helping the civilian population was very necessary. Even the great Order Leader sometimes moonlighted as a blacksmith or guarded the city gate. Stephanos had personally seen the man distributing food to widows and orphaned children.
"I'll go and buy the necessary replacements myself, really. I wouldn't want to trouble your time." the woman said again and Stephanos was beginning to think that she wanted him gone.
“I won’t force my help on you,” he said with a touch of uncertainty. “But do take this to make up the payment.” He fished out of the bag at his hip some coins. “It’ll buy you a new dress, at least. And, before you refuse, it’s not my money. It’s from the Order. If I return tonight with this pouch still full, I’ll be in trouble.” Their fingers touched when he tried to hand her the coins and he grinned at the pink in her cheeks.
“I’m…” he gave her the first name he thought of. “I’m Krysto, by the way.” He didn’t actually want her to know who he was at the moment.
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"Oh, that's really not necessary sir,” the woman appeared at his side, seemingly out of thin air and Stephanos raised an eyebrow at the ‘sir’. It was rare for someone not to know him by sight alone, but not unheard of. Especially people who weren’t originally from Vasiliadon. Except, he did make appearances with his family, so he guessed this girl never visited the circus on racing days, never went to any events, and possibly never saw the outside of the tavern except to go to market. That or he was just not that memorable...but he dismissed that last thought. Everyone remembered him. Her reaction to him was actually fairly common, he’d found. When he was younger, he’d been delighted with the tittering and giggling and blushes. In recent times, it was distracting, especially if there was nothing he could do to bring this girl’s very blatant infatuation to fruition. He didn’t have the time. He was on patrol.
He could make it a point to see her later…
“Krateros thinks so,” he said in response to her assurances that help was not necessary. Krateros, leader of the Order, thought that helping the civilian population was very necessary. Even the great Order Leader sometimes moonlighted as a blacksmith or guarded the city gate. Stephanos had personally seen the man distributing food to widows and orphaned children.
"I'll go and buy the necessary replacements myself, really. I wouldn't want to trouble your time." the woman said again and Stephanos was beginning to think that she wanted him gone.
“I won’t force my help on you,” he said with a touch of uncertainty. “But do take this to make up the payment.” He fished out of the bag at his hip some coins. “It’ll buy you a new dress, at least. And, before you refuse, it’s not my money. It’s from the Order. If I return tonight with this pouch still full, I’ll be in trouble.” Their fingers touched when he tried to hand her the coins and he grinned at the pink in her cheeks.
“I’m…” he gave her the first name he thought of. “I’m Krysto, by the way.” He didn’t actually want her to know who he was at the moment.
"Oh, that's really not necessary sir,” the woman appeared at his side, seemingly out of thin air and Stephanos raised an eyebrow at the ‘sir’. It was rare for someone not to know him by sight alone, but not unheard of. Especially people who weren’t originally from Vasiliadon. Except, he did make appearances with his family, so he guessed this girl never visited the circus on racing days, never went to any events, and possibly never saw the outside of the tavern except to go to market. That or he was just not that memorable...but he dismissed that last thought. Everyone remembered him. Her reaction to him was actually fairly common, he’d found. When he was younger, he’d been delighted with the tittering and giggling and blushes. In recent times, it was distracting, especially if there was nothing he could do to bring this girl’s very blatant infatuation to fruition. He didn’t have the time. He was on patrol.
He could make it a point to see her later…
“Krateros thinks so,” he said in response to her assurances that help was not necessary. Krateros, leader of the Order, thought that helping the civilian population was very necessary. Even the great Order Leader sometimes moonlighted as a blacksmith or guarded the city gate. Stephanos had personally seen the man distributing food to widows and orphaned children.
"I'll go and buy the necessary replacements myself, really. I wouldn't want to trouble your time." the woman said again and Stephanos was beginning to think that she wanted him gone.
“I won’t force my help on you,” he said with a touch of uncertainty. “But do take this to make up the payment.” He fished out of the bag at his hip some coins. “It’ll buy you a new dress, at least. And, before you refuse, it’s not my money. It’s from the Order. If I return tonight with this pouch still full, I’ll be in trouble.” Their fingers touched when he tried to hand her the coins and he grinned at the pink in her cheeks.
“I’m…” he gave her the first name he thought of. “I’m Krysto, by the way.” He didn’t actually want her to know who he was at the moment.
She was often called an oddity, for how much Zenais preferred to remain indoors. But many who call her that do not know her past - in fact, no one in Taengea she knew of, knew exactly who she was. She mostly introduced herself as Zenais, never of Lyncaea, and never of Colchis. When she had first arrived, many had questioned her bronzed pallour, a complexion rarely seen in Taengean's. But over the year's, Zenais's complexion had mellowed out to match the Taengean's that she could easily be mistook as a highly introverted local - so long as no one asked her about Taengea's history, that is.
It was a misunderstanding Zenais preferred to keep going. Far be it for her to correct, when returning to her homeland would mean and spell certain death for her.
So she let it continue, that many whispered her simply as a beauty who had hailed from a province far from the capitol's centre. Raising a brow when another name was brought forth, for once, Zenais found herself cocking her head, interest flickering in her blue eyes at the familiar name. Was the man she had occasionally seen guarding the city gate not named Krateros? Were they the same person?
Still blinking in surprise when a bag of coins was dropped in her hands, her large, azurean eyes stared at Stephanos in shock at his generous offer to get her a new dress. Her automatic response was to shake her head, to reject the offer for help, for it was now second nature in Zenais to reject any help offered to her. But the man was quick to reject her rejection before she even did so, quicker still to explain the money came from the Order.
An organization Zenais now knew to protect the city, the brunette was still surprised to feel the amount of gold in the pouch. Was the Order so rich as to replace the garments and victuals of lowly commoners as she? A brief smile ghosted across her lips when he mentioned himself in trouble, before her breath caught when his fingers brushed hers. She was acting a fool, at the back of her mind, Zenais knew she was. But somehow, she couldn't stop that flush on her cheeks as she finally meekly accepted the coins.
"Can't have you in trouble, now can we." she flashed him a sweet smile, not once occuring to her that she was actually subconsciously flirting, something she has not done in almost eight years since she had fled from Colchis. The oceanic eyes turned to the man who had just introduced himself, a small pang in her chest when her gaze met his with a small smile on her lips. "I'm... Zenais. You're too kind, sir Krysto."
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She was often called an oddity, for how much Zenais preferred to remain indoors. But many who call her that do not know her past - in fact, no one in Taengea she knew of, knew exactly who she was. She mostly introduced herself as Zenais, never of Lyncaea, and never of Colchis. When she had first arrived, many had questioned her bronzed pallour, a complexion rarely seen in Taengean's. But over the year's, Zenais's complexion had mellowed out to match the Taengean's that she could easily be mistook as a highly introverted local - so long as no one asked her about Taengea's history, that is.
It was a misunderstanding Zenais preferred to keep going. Far be it for her to correct, when returning to her homeland would mean and spell certain death for her.
So she let it continue, that many whispered her simply as a beauty who had hailed from a province far from the capitol's centre. Raising a brow when another name was brought forth, for once, Zenais found herself cocking her head, interest flickering in her blue eyes at the familiar name. Was the man she had occasionally seen guarding the city gate not named Krateros? Were they the same person?
Still blinking in surprise when a bag of coins was dropped in her hands, her large, azurean eyes stared at Stephanos in shock at his generous offer to get her a new dress. Her automatic response was to shake her head, to reject the offer for help, for it was now second nature in Zenais to reject any help offered to her. But the man was quick to reject her rejection before she even did so, quicker still to explain the money came from the Order.
An organization Zenais now knew to protect the city, the brunette was still surprised to feel the amount of gold in the pouch. Was the Order so rich as to replace the garments and victuals of lowly commoners as she? A brief smile ghosted across her lips when he mentioned himself in trouble, before her breath caught when his fingers brushed hers. She was acting a fool, at the back of her mind, Zenais knew she was. But somehow, she couldn't stop that flush on her cheeks as she finally meekly accepted the coins.
"Can't have you in trouble, now can we." she flashed him a sweet smile, not once occuring to her that she was actually subconsciously flirting, something she has not done in almost eight years since she had fled from Colchis. The oceanic eyes turned to the man who had just introduced himself, a small pang in her chest when her gaze met his with a small smile on her lips. "I'm... Zenais. You're too kind, sir Krysto."
She was often called an oddity, for how much Zenais preferred to remain indoors. But many who call her that do not know her past - in fact, no one in Taengea she knew of, knew exactly who she was. She mostly introduced herself as Zenais, never of Lyncaea, and never of Colchis. When she had first arrived, many had questioned her bronzed pallour, a complexion rarely seen in Taengean's. But over the year's, Zenais's complexion had mellowed out to match the Taengean's that she could easily be mistook as a highly introverted local - so long as no one asked her about Taengea's history, that is.
It was a misunderstanding Zenais preferred to keep going. Far be it for her to correct, when returning to her homeland would mean and spell certain death for her.
So she let it continue, that many whispered her simply as a beauty who had hailed from a province far from the capitol's centre. Raising a brow when another name was brought forth, for once, Zenais found herself cocking her head, interest flickering in her blue eyes at the familiar name. Was the man she had occasionally seen guarding the city gate not named Krateros? Were they the same person?
Still blinking in surprise when a bag of coins was dropped in her hands, her large, azurean eyes stared at Stephanos in shock at his generous offer to get her a new dress. Her automatic response was to shake her head, to reject the offer for help, for it was now second nature in Zenais to reject any help offered to her. But the man was quick to reject her rejection before she even did so, quicker still to explain the money came from the Order.
An organization Zenais now knew to protect the city, the brunette was still surprised to feel the amount of gold in the pouch. Was the Order so rich as to replace the garments and victuals of lowly commoners as she? A brief smile ghosted across her lips when he mentioned himself in trouble, before her breath caught when his fingers brushed hers. She was acting a fool, at the back of her mind, Zenais knew she was. But somehow, she couldn't stop that flush on her cheeks as she finally meekly accepted the coins.
"Can't have you in trouble, now can we." she flashed him a sweet smile, not once occuring to her that she was actually subconsciously flirting, something she has not done in almost eight years since she had fled from Colchis. The oceanic eyes turned to the man who had just introduced himself, a small pang in her chest when her gaze met his with a small smile on her lips. "I'm... Zenais. You're too kind, sir Krysto."
He’d been almost sure that she was trying to push the pouch of coins back into his hand, but ultimately she agreed to take them. Zenais’s sweet smile drew a returned, easy grin from Stephanos. His eyes lingered on the blush in her cheeks and the way her attention had been diverted for a little too long when she’d noticed their fingers had brushed together for the space of an instant. None of this was having the same effect on Stephanos as it was for her. He wasn’t feeling the same heightened sensations or the same self consciousness, but he’d noticed it enough in her to realize that this was her flirting. What to do with that, he wondered?
"Can't have you in trouble, now can we?”
“Absolutely not,” he rose with her until they were standing. It was then he’d introduced himself. A shadow crossed her features, but then it was gone. Her smile was left affected, now possessing a certain degree of sadness that hadn’t been there before.
"I'm... Zenais. You're too kind, sir Krysto."
Stephanos smirked at the use of the name he’d given her and nodded. “I am,” he said boldly, purposefully putting a bit of pomp into it and imagining that Krysto would hit the roof if a rumor began to circulate around Vasiliadon that he was full of himself. The thought made Stephanos grin a bit more than he should have. Did he like his fellow Order member? Of course he did. But could he let Krysto go blithely through life without playing a prank or two? No. That would be irresponsible to friendship. “You know, I’m a big deal at the Order House,” he went on, reaching for her hand to tuck it in his arm and then moving the two of them smoothly along the street, back toward the market. “Don’t forget my name,” he instructed, his eyes glittering in amusement. “Krysto. My father was a physician, you know. I can heal anything by virtue of his knowledge alone.”
This joke was straying into mean territory, so Stephanos didn’t joke more than that. “I can’t shop the whole time with you,” he said regretfully once they reached the entrance of the marketplace. It was late enough that the best of everything was long gone. Stepping away from her and releasing her arm, he folded his arms over his chest and looked her over. “It was good to meet you, Zenais of Vasiliadon.” He didn’t care that the use of the city may not be where she was born. So far as Stephanos was concerned, no other city was as important as this one. With a short bow, he straightened up and indicated that he needed to continue his patrol.
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He’d been almost sure that she was trying to push the pouch of coins back into his hand, but ultimately she agreed to take them. Zenais’s sweet smile drew a returned, easy grin from Stephanos. His eyes lingered on the blush in her cheeks and the way her attention had been diverted for a little too long when she’d noticed their fingers had brushed together for the space of an instant. None of this was having the same effect on Stephanos as it was for her. He wasn’t feeling the same heightened sensations or the same self consciousness, but he’d noticed it enough in her to realize that this was her flirting. What to do with that, he wondered?
"Can't have you in trouble, now can we?”
“Absolutely not,” he rose with her until they were standing. It was then he’d introduced himself. A shadow crossed her features, but then it was gone. Her smile was left affected, now possessing a certain degree of sadness that hadn’t been there before.
"I'm... Zenais. You're too kind, sir Krysto."
Stephanos smirked at the use of the name he’d given her and nodded. “I am,” he said boldly, purposefully putting a bit of pomp into it and imagining that Krysto would hit the roof if a rumor began to circulate around Vasiliadon that he was full of himself. The thought made Stephanos grin a bit more than he should have. Did he like his fellow Order member? Of course he did. But could he let Krysto go blithely through life without playing a prank or two? No. That would be irresponsible to friendship. “You know, I’m a big deal at the Order House,” he went on, reaching for her hand to tuck it in his arm and then moving the two of them smoothly along the street, back toward the market. “Don’t forget my name,” he instructed, his eyes glittering in amusement. “Krysto. My father was a physician, you know. I can heal anything by virtue of his knowledge alone.”
This joke was straying into mean territory, so Stephanos didn’t joke more than that. “I can’t shop the whole time with you,” he said regretfully once they reached the entrance of the marketplace. It was late enough that the best of everything was long gone. Stepping away from her and releasing her arm, he folded his arms over his chest and looked her over. “It was good to meet you, Zenais of Vasiliadon.” He didn’t care that the use of the city may not be where she was born. So far as Stephanos was concerned, no other city was as important as this one. With a short bow, he straightened up and indicated that he needed to continue his patrol.
He’d been almost sure that she was trying to push the pouch of coins back into his hand, but ultimately she agreed to take them. Zenais’s sweet smile drew a returned, easy grin from Stephanos. His eyes lingered on the blush in her cheeks and the way her attention had been diverted for a little too long when she’d noticed their fingers had brushed together for the space of an instant. None of this was having the same effect on Stephanos as it was for her. He wasn’t feeling the same heightened sensations or the same self consciousness, but he’d noticed it enough in her to realize that this was her flirting. What to do with that, he wondered?
"Can't have you in trouble, now can we?”
“Absolutely not,” he rose with her until they were standing. It was then he’d introduced himself. A shadow crossed her features, but then it was gone. Her smile was left affected, now possessing a certain degree of sadness that hadn’t been there before.
"I'm... Zenais. You're too kind, sir Krysto."
Stephanos smirked at the use of the name he’d given her and nodded. “I am,” he said boldly, purposefully putting a bit of pomp into it and imagining that Krysto would hit the roof if a rumor began to circulate around Vasiliadon that he was full of himself. The thought made Stephanos grin a bit more than he should have. Did he like his fellow Order member? Of course he did. But could he let Krysto go blithely through life without playing a prank or two? No. That would be irresponsible to friendship. “You know, I’m a big deal at the Order House,” he went on, reaching for her hand to tuck it in his arm and then moving the two of them smoothly along the street, back toward the market. “Don’t forget my name,” he instructed, his eyes glittering in amusement. “Krysto. My father was a physician, you know. I can heal anything by virtue of his knowledge alone.”
This joke was straying into mean territory, so Stephanos didn’t joke more than that. “I can’t shop the whole time with you,” he said regretfully once they reached the entrance of the marketplace. It was late enough that the best of everything was long gone. Stepping away from her and releasing her arm, he folded his arms over his chest and looked her over. “It was good to meet you, Zenais of Vasiliadon.” He didn’t care that the use of the city may not be where she was born. So far as Stephanos was concerned, no other city was as important as this one. With a short bow, he straightened up and indicated that he needed to continue his patrol.
She laughed, a nightingale-like sound which lent its beauty to her singing when she did perform, outside of context it merely made Zenais's voice sound like a voice as she spoke or laughed. Her blue eyes shone with mirth at his bold and purposeful confidence. It could've came off as arrogance, yet upon the handsome visage of the man she now knew as Krysto, it only seemed amusing, adding a streak of confidence which only made him appear far more attractive then it already was, the kind of magnetism Zenais couldn't seem to place a finger upon.
Raising a brow as if in a dare at his bold declaration of himself being a big deal, she curled a lip, and then a hint of question niggled at her mind. The way he wanted his name to be so well known smelled of trickery in her mind, the kind of mischief boys would get up to so often as she had learned from her younger brother, way back. Still, this was no place for Zenais to question his integrity, so instead the brunette kept silent as he continued.
Nodding dutifully as he apologized, she knew she did not need an escort to the market's, yet a pang hit her chest when he announced his inability to follow her. One that only amplified when he called her Zenais of Vasiliadon, a statement so far wrong, yet a statement that Zenais could not correct. For to correct it would mean she would have questions, questions that she would rather not answer, and rather not face.
So instead, the woman merely kept silent ad let the smile remain on her face, curtsying delicately as he left, before her face fell once he was out of view. The moment his back turned, Zenais too, turned her back to the tavern she worked in, worrying at the edges of her chiton. She will go and regain what had been lost in the scuffle later, once she has changed out of an oil sodden chiton, but the call of her wrongful place of birth still hit her just the same.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She laughed, a nightingale-like sound which lent its beauty to her singing when she did perform, outside of context it merely made Zenais's voice sound like a voice as she spoke or laughed. Her blue eyes shone with mirth at his bold and purposeful confidence. It could've came off as arrogance, yet upon the handsome visage of the man she now knew as Krysto, it only seemed amusing, adding a streak of confidence which only made him appear far more attractive then it already was, the kind of magnetism Zenais couldn't seem to place a finger upon.
Raising a brow as if in a dare at his bold declaration of himself being a big deal, she curled a lip, and then a hint of question niggled at her mind. The way he wanted his name to be so well known smelled of trickery in her mind, the kind of mischief boys would get up to so often as she had learned from her younger brother, way back. Still, this was no place for Zenais to question his integrity, so instead the brunette kept silent as he continued.
Nodding dutifully as he apologized, she knew she did not need an escort to the market's, yet a pang hit her chest when he announced his inability to follow her. One that only amplified when he called her Zenais of Vasiliadon, a statement so far wrong, yet a statement that Zenais could not correct. For to correct it would mean she would have questions, questions that she would rather not answer, and rather not face.
So instead, the woman merely kept silent ad let the smile remain on her face, curtsying delicately as he left, before her face fell once he was out of view. The moment his back turned, Zenais too, turned her back to the tavern she worked in, worrying at the edges of her chiton. She will go and regain what had been lost in the scuffle later, once she has changed out of an oil sodden chiton, but the call of her wrongful place of birth still hit her just the same.
She laughed, a nightingale-like sound which lent its beauty to her singing when she did perform, outside of context it merely made Zenais's voice sound like a voice as she spoke or laughed. Her blue eyes shone with mirth at his bold and purposeful confidence. It could've came off as arrogance, yet upon the handsome visage of the man she now knew as Krysto, it only seemed amusing, adding a streak of confidence which only made him appear far more attractive then it already was, the kind of magnetism Zenais couldn't seem to place a finger upon.
Raising a brow as if in a dare at his bold declaration of himself being a big deal, she curled a lip, and then a hint of question niggled at her mind. The way he wanted his name to be so well known smelled of trickery in her mind, the kind of mischief boys would get up to so often as she had learned from her younger brother, way back. Still, this was no place for Zenais to question his integrity, so instead the brunette kept silent as he continued.
Nodding dutifully as he apologized, she knew she did not need an escort to the market's, yet a pang hit her chest when he announced his inability to follow her. One that only amplified when he called her Zenais of Vasiliadon, a statement so far wrong, yet a statement that Zenais could not correct. For to correct it would mean she would have questions, questions that she would rather not answer, and rather not face.
So instead, the woman merely kept silent ad let the smile remain on her face, curtsying delicately as he left, before her face fell once he was out of view. The moment his back turned, Zenais too, turned her back to the tavern she worked in, worrying at the edges of her chiton. She will go and regain what had been lost in the scuffle later, once she has changed out of an oil sodden chiton, but the call of her wrongful place of birth still hit her just the same.