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4 Vhalar, Arc 719
4 Vhalar, Arc 719
On the street leading to the Academy of Etzos, Llyr waited. He leaned against a stonebrick building corner, and flipped through the pages of a book. Occasionally, he glanced up and looked side to side in survey of those students and professors and Etzori going about the start of their trial. He'd been there for nearly a break now, but like yestertrial, Clover still hadn't shown up like usual. Was she skipping class? Or was she avoiding him?
He licked the pad of his thumb, then flipped the page of the book and returned to his reading. It was a light read, a book about basic Etzori history. Written with ith'ession, it made for good practice as he still mostly spoke common in the city.
The click of heels sounded against the cobblestones.
Llyr didn't look up until the clicked rhythmic pacing stopped right in front of him. A shadow crossed over his boots. He looked past the tome, at the shadow, then raised his gaze to see a familiar woman.
Prim and professional, Spring Hale stood in front of him with her silken blond hair pinned in perfect place. She held the handle of a leather satchel-case between both her hands. His gaze lingered at the splash of cherry red color to her long nails... as red as the paint on her lips... then at the tight silhouette of her skirt compared to the airy lightness of her cream satin blouse. Llyr always had a difficult time focusing whenever Ms. Hale spoke with him. It'd been one of the many reasons why he decided to depart Trust & Fair... other than borrowing their records for his own uses.
"Llywelyn," she greeted him curtly.
"Ms. Hale," he offered. He closed the book and set it in his messenger satchel. "Good morning. ...is, uh, is Clover well?"
"That's none of your concern," she answered shortly. "Do you have classes at the academy?"
"W-well, no..." Llyr scratched the back of his neck. He shifted his weight between his feet and looked to step out of the woman's shadow but she was a bit too close to respectfully do so. "You, uh, do you have business totrial?"
"Yes, but I also wanted to speak to you." Spring tapped her red nails against the leathercase's handle. "You cannot spend time with my daughter."
"Ms. Hale, I didn't mean to... offend you or... Did Clover say something?" Concern rushed through Llyr. Had he insulted Clover on accident during one of their talks? It was always so difficult to discern what the girl thought of him or what he said. Sometimes she giggled, sometimes she blushed, other times she yelled at him or slapped him upside the head. Sometimes, all within bits of each other. But he'd thought the girl had liked it when he escorted her to her morning classes. She seemed to say farewell in the sort of way that both expected to see each other again. If she didn't want to, wouldn't she act colder toward him?
He looked at Clover's mother with wide blue eyes. "I thought she liked talking before she went to class? I-if she doesn't want me to visit, she could have said so. I wouldn't have..."
"It doesn't matter what Clover thinks she wants. I'm telling you. I put up with your nonsense while you were working for my father, but now you're not even employed anywhere from what I hear." The Etzori woman shook her head. "Clover needs to focus on her future. She doesn't need the distraction of someone like you. I've told you this before, and don't make me need to tell you again. My patience extends only so far, Llywelyn. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Ms. Hale. I'm sorry." Llyr lowered his gaze to his boots. He sniffed, then bit at his thumbnail in a fidget. His sight flicked up to look at the woman's cold look toward him. "I... uh... I'll leave Clover be then. But I don't want her to think it's because I don't like her or..."
"Don't concern yourself with that. It'd be best if you forget she exists," informed Spring. She nodded, then started along toward the academy. Her heels clicked against the cobblestones in that same rhythmic pace.
Llyr hesitated, then he grabbed onto the strap of his satchel, and followed. "Pardon, Ms. Hale, but what if I run into her? What do I say?"
"Nothing. You act like she doesn't exist and you walk away."
"I don't know if I could do that. Ms. Hale, aren't you worried about her feelings being hurt?"
The blonde paused, turned toward him, and snapped, "I told you to not concern yourself with it."
Llyr stepped back from her. He nodded a few times, then fell into pace a step or two behind her as she continued her walk toward the tower that housed the Academy. "A-alright, but, Ms. Hale, I don't see what's wrong with us being friends and all. It's not like I'm looking to ruin her studies or marry he-"
"Llywelyn, enough!" This snap was so loud, it was nearly a shout. A few passersby paused and looked over at the two. Ms. Hale's cheeks flushed red. She said, "This isn't up for negotiation. You will not speak to Clover, you will not visit with her, walk with her, or otherwise acknowledge her existence from this point on. Don't think about her. Spend your time on better things, like finding another job and not becoming destitute on the docks like so many of your kind."
The young man stared down at the woman. He knew she'd meant biqaj but he didn't understand the insult. Plenty of biqaj were well-off, just as humans were or weren't. Then again, though Spring was mixed blood, she seemed to prefer her human side to her biqaj side. Her father, Clover's grandfather, the wealthy Merrin Fairtrust certainly made his own preferences known by his hiring practices of nearly all humans with exception to Spring. The exception likely had to do with the familial relation. Llyr knew he would have been fired in the coming weeks if he'd remained, traded out for a proper Etzori round-eared red-blood.
His own face heated in silvery-blue from being chastised in public for his confusion. He hesitated, a feeling of frustration rising in him. He observed Ms. Hale's expression, then mentioned, "My kind are royalty in some places, like Quacia."
"This isn't Quacia," she retorted. "This is Etzos, and best you remember that."
He hummed, then asked, "So, what about you then?"
"What about me?" She returned to her walk. Her steps quickened though, as if in hope to either lose him... or go past the others on the street before they could fully eavesdrop on the tense conversation.
He followed after her, refusing to let her get away that easy. Llyr moved ahead of her. He leaned to look at the expression on her face again. In his naturally deep voice, accented by his southern medley enunciation of the common language, he elaborated, "Can I speak with you? Can I visit with you? Can I acknowledge your existence, Ms. Hale?"
"...Llywelyn," she replied in a warning tone of voice. Her gaze flitted toward him, then she quickly looked away.
"Ms. Hale," he responded in a petulant taunt. A moment's silence, then he added, "Did you need assistance totrial with something? You look ready for an important meeting. I could... scribe for you, again, if you wanted. If I recall the last time, you very much appreciated my precise penmanship."
Spring pursed her red-painted lips. She glanced over his figure again, from head to knees and then up to his shoulders. He was glad he wore one of his better fitting outfits, minimalist attire of gray cotton that clung to his lanky form. She scoffed, "Fine."
Llyr tried to hide the slight smirk on his lips. He teased, "As long as I won't be too distracting, that is."
"I'll manage," she snidely said, though when he caught her gaze, a slight smile hinted on her lips. She rolled her eyes at the slip and said, "I expect discretion, though. This meeting cannot be readily shared with others."
"Of course, Ms. Hale," he eagerly replied. He folded his hands behind him, while he walked alongside the professional. "I can be discreet, promise."
They walked together, in approach of the Academy. Llyr fiddled with the plain ring on his finger. It kept his mutations away from sight, so he was able to walk the streets looking as any other ordinary person. If it hadn't been for the woman who walked beside him now, he might never have found out about such an artifact. He mentioned, "Besides, I owe you."
She nodded and said, "Yes, Llywelyn. Yes, you do."
He licked the pad of his thumb, then flipped the page of the book and returned to his reading. It was a light read, a book about basic Etzori history. Written with ith'ession, it made for good practice as he still mostly spoke common in the city.
The click of heels sounded against the cobblestones.
Llyr didn't look up until the clicked rhythmic pacing stopped right in front of him. A shadow crossed over his boots. He looked past the tome, at the shadow, then raised his gaze to see a familiar woman.
Prim and professional, Spring Hale stood in front of him with her silken blond hair pinned in perfect place. She held the handle of a leather satchel-case between both her hands. His gaze lingered at the splash of cherry red color to her long nails... as red as the paint on her lips... then at the tight silhouette of her skirt compared to the airy lightness of her cream satin blouse. Llyr always had a difficult time focusing whenever Ms. Hale spoke with him. It'd been one of the many reasons why he decided to depart Trust & Fair... other than borrowing their records for his own uses.
"Llywelyn," she greeted him curtly.
"Ms. Hale," he offered. He closed the book and set it in his messenger satchel. "Good morning. ...is, uh, is Clover well?"
"That's none of your concern," she answered shortly. "Do you have classes at the academy?"
"W-well, no..." Llyr scratched the back of his neck. He shifted his weight between his feet and looked to step out of the woman's shadow but she was a bit too close to respectfully do so. "You, uh, do you have business totrial?"
"Yes, but I also wanted to speak to you." Spring tapped her red nails against the leathercase's handle. "You cannot spend time with my daughter."
"Ms. Hale, I didn't mean to... offend you or... Did Clover say something?" Concern rushed through Llyr. Had he insulted Clover on accident during one of their talks? It was always so difficult to discern what the girl thought of him or what he said. Sometimes she giggled, sometimes she blushed, other times she yelled at him or slapped him upside the head. Sometimes, all within bits of each other. But he'd thought the girl had liked it when he escorted her to her morning classes. She seemed to say farewell in the sort of way that both expected to see each other again. If she didn't want to, wouldn't she act colder toward him?
He looked at Clover's mother with wide blue eyes. "I thought she liked talking before she went to class? I-if she doesn't want me to visit, she could have said so. I wouldn't have..."
"It doesn't matter what Clover thinks she wants. I'm telling you. I put up with your nonsense while you were working for my father, but now you're not even employed anywhere from what I hear." The Etzori woman shook her head. "Clover needs to focus on her future. She doesn't need the distraction of someone like you. I've told you this before, and don't make me need to tell you again. My patience extends only so far, Llywelyn. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Ms. Hale. I'm sorry." Llyr lowered his gaze to his boots. He sniffed, then bit at his thumbnail in a fidget. His sight flicked up to look at the woman's cold look toward him. "I... uh... I'll leave Clover be then. But I don't want her to think it's because I don't like her or..."
"Don't concern yourself with that. It'd be best if you forget she exists," informed Spring. She nodded, then started along toward the academy. Her heels clicked against the cobblestones in that same rhythmic pace.
Llyr hesitated, then he grabbed onto the strap of his satchel, and followed. "Pardon, Ms. Hale, but what if I run into her? What do I say?"
"Nothing. You act like she doesn't exist and you walk away."
"I don't know if I could do that. Ms. Hale, aren't you worried about her feelings being hurt?"
The blonde paused, turned toward him, and snapped, "I told you to not concern yourself with it."
Llyr stepped back from her. He nodded a few times, then fell into pace a step or two behind her as she continued her walk toward the tower that housed the Academy. "A-alright, but, Ms. Hale, I don't see what's wrong with us being friends and all. It's not like I'm looking to ruin her studies or marry he-"
"Llywelyn, enough!" This snap was so loud, it was nearly a shout. A few passersby paused and looked over at the two. Ms. Hale's cheeks flushed red. She said, "This isn't up for negotiation. You will not speak to Clover, you will not visit with her, walk with her, or otherwise acknowledge her existence from this point on. Don't think about her. Spend your time on better things, like finding another job and not becoming destitute on the docks like so many of your kind."
The young man stared down at the woman. He knew she'd meant biqaj but he didn't understand the insult. Plenty of biqaj were well-off, just as humans were or weren't. Then again, though Spring was mixed blood, she seemed to prefer her human side to her biqaj side. Her father, Clover's grandfather, the wealthy Merrin Fairtrust certainly made his own preferences known by his hiring practices of nearly all humans with exception to Spring. The exception likely had to do with the familial relation. Llyr knew he would have been fired in the coming weeks if he'd remained, traded out for a proper Etzori round-eared red-blood.
His own face heated in silvery-blue from being chastised in public for his confusion. He hesitated, a feeling of frustration rising in him. He observed Ms. Hale's expression, then mentioned, "My kind are royalty in some places, like Quacia."
"This isn't Quacia," she retorted. "This is Etzos, and best you remember that."
He hummed, then asked, "So, what about you then?"
"What about me?" She returned to her walk. Her steps quickened though, as if in hope to either lose him... or go past the others on the street before they could fully eavesdrop on the tense conversation.
He followed after her, refusing to let her get away that easy. Llyr moved ahead of her. He leaned to look at the expression on her face again. In his naturally deep voice, accented by his southern medley enunciation of the common language, he elaborated, "Can I speak with you? Can I visit with you? Can I acknowledge your existence, Ms. Hale?"
"...Llywelyn," she replied in a warning tone of voice. Her gaze flitted toward him, then she quickly looked away.
"Ms. Hale," he responded in a petulant taunt. A moment's silence, then he added, "Did you need assistance totrial with something? You look ready for an important meeting. I could... scribe for you, again, if you wanted. If I recall the last time, you very much appreciated my precise penmanship."
Spring pursed her red-painted lips. She glanced over his figure again, from head to knees and then up to his shoulders. He was glad he wore one of his better fitting outfits, minimalist attire of gray cotton that clung to his lanky form. She scoffed, "Fine."
Llyr tried to hide the slight smirk on his lips. He teased, "As long as I won't be too distracting, that is."
"I'll manage," she snidely said, though when he caught her gaze, a slight smile hinted on her lips. She rolled her eyes at the slip and said, "I expect discretion, though. This meeting cannot be readily shared with others."
"Of course, Ms. Hale," he eagerly replied. He folded his hands behind him, while he walked alongside the professional. "I can be discreet, promise."
They walked together, in approach of the Academy. Llyr fiddled with the plain ring on his finger. It kept his mutations away from sight, so he was able to walk the streets looking as any other ordinary person. If it hadn't been for the woman who walked beside him now, he might never have found out about such an artifact. He mentioned, "Besides, I owe you."
She nodded and said, "Yes, Llywelyn. Yes, you do."
