|
|
Post by Sesshou Meibatsu on Aug 8, 2011 22:17:53 GMT -5
The world around him was absolutely foreign. It had only been minutes since he awakened in this strange place. He could only imagine that nonetheless, he still remained somewhere in Hyrule. Where exactly though? Unfortunately his memories were still tragically working against him. His mind was completely barren of any type of past. It was almost as if he didn't have any type of history to be exact.
To his benefit he managed to find a tattered robe that had been carelessly thrown away to be disposed of. Helping himself to the item, Sesshou placed it over his body and raised the hood above his crown. "Where in the world am I?" he exclaimed, still trying to adapt to such an unfortunate predicament. With his memories still gone, the only choice that he had was to forge novel ones. That was until at least he could figure out his true heritage.
Not so far away from his eyes stood a local tavern that bustled with customers. An enormous amount of chatter could be heard from within, noting the popularity of the establishment. With the thought that maybe a cold beverage could relax him a bit, Sesshou began to head to the very doors of the grand tavern. With a heave with his two mighty hands, he would push the doors open and seem to blend in, remaining unnoticed due to the great deal of conversation going on. That was when his digits clasped the side of his pants and found nothing in his pockets to even purchase a simple drink.
"This will go down as the worst day of my life by far."
[/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by Scheherazade Al Khalifa on Aug 9, 2011 18:30:10 GMT -5
There’s no real reason for a person of Scheherazade’s status to be in a place like the Westport tavern, especially not as she is still primarily a citizen of the City in the Sky. She has no need of ships or horses, content to travel as freely as the birds in the sky. But here she is, completely out of place in the grime streaked building, elegant fingers tapping the table. There is a perfectly good reason for her appearance, her disseminating stare and complete refusal of company: Scheherazade is here to find a lost sheep from her flock. She is not here for the food or drink, only here because the sheep that has wandered off has a predilection for liquor that would make a pirate proud.
She is the first to see the strange man in the much worn robe appear in the doorway, keen bird’s eyes watching as everyone else ignored him. There’s an advantage in being in the corner, a covering of darkness that lets one watch the rest of the room in relative peace. Scheherazade rests her chin on a dainty hand, nails tapping at her chin. It’s difficult sometimes to tell who is what sometimes, what with the amazing ability of certain Oocca to blend a little too well for Scheherazade’s tastes. It’s best to start small, work from the most glaring mistake out to the rest of the problem. The newcomer is a blatant discrepancy, a brightly colored sign amongst the boring planks. For starters, he is what Scheherazade is unashamed to admit is what women call gorgeous. This is a man who carries himself like a real man should, all power with the skill to back it up. She’d be perfectly willing to bet a hundred rupees that under that ugly piece of fabric is a body one could eat off of.
He is probably not human, and that probability alone is what makes her beckon him towards her, fingers crooked seductively as she stares him down. “Come keep a girl company, hmm?”
|
|
|
|
Post by Sesshou Meibatsu on Aug 9, 2011 21:03:34 GMT -5
There weren't words to express anything that Sesshou could've felt right now. He was completely lost and didn't even know where to begin. Every time he thought about asking a native villager about his whereabouts, the being would show signs of drunken stupidity. This was quite far from the place where any sort of logic or sensible conversation could be held. It wasn't long before Sesshou realized that he was at a major loss when it came to finding someone at least halfway resourceful.
Departure wasn't sounding too bad right about now, and it was going to be the next course of action if it wasn't for the timing of the seductive female. Sesshou's head twisted towards her voice and captured her entity in his gaze alone. In her appearance alone she separated herself from the natives of this port city. She was extravagant, extraordinary, and any other e-words that would serve to bolster the description of her beauty. There was something amazing about how different she truly was and the confidence she kept herself in. It was more than necessary that he had to sit down directly across from the bird woman.
"Your not like everyone else. Who are you? What are you? Your quite the medicine for sore eyes and blank memories. Do you know me? Do I know you? And why do the women here pale in comparison to you?" he stressed, clearly infatuated with the woman. She was the first presence here that made himself believe that he wasn't the only odd person out.
[/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by Scheherazade Al Khalifa on Aug 10, 2011 0:00:29 GMT -5
A slender hand is raised, delicate fingers indicating air around them. He thinks her different, an astute observation for such a place, and she decides to treat him with courtesy. “So many questions. It would be best to start with civility, yes?” Scheherazade smiles, eyes narrowed as she continues their unspoken staring contest. He is so eager for answers, so desperate for knowledge that she cannot help but see herself in him. “If I was like everyone else in this place, I would be human. As I am not one of that otherwise adaptable species, I shall not even attempt to be like one of them.” She pauses, ominously rustles her wings when one of the many looks as if he would like to drunkenly break in on their conversation. “But we shall start with simpler things, and I shall answer your questions in due course. My name is Scheherazade, and I am an Oocca.”
It worries her that he wonders if she was a part of his life, the healer’s training within her railing against the manners she needs to maintain this conversation. It takes but a moment to focus, to call on that which makes her special even among her own kind, and it is far too easy to accomplish. She rises to her feet, heels clicking on the floor as if she paces and thinks at the same time. “Tell me then. Who are you to say I make all others seem less than myself, when you suffer the same malady?” Scheherazade is nothing but graceful as she drapes herself across his shoulders, leans in to his ear and whispers ever so delicately. “And if I lied to you, would you remember enough to take offense?”
A kiss is all she needs, a press of lips to a cheek and a sizzle of magic that fills the air with an apricot aroma. She wonders if he can feel her heart beat as she forces her magic to purge a poison she can’t even verify, if he’ll find something meaningful in her compassion.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sesshou Meibatsu on Aug 10, 2011 3:22:42 GMT -5
There was nothing but a air of confidence that constantly exuded from her frame. It was almost as if she knew answers to everything he questioned. Could she hold the revelations to everything? The woman danced around him, always piquing his curiosity with her every maneuver. His hypothesis was held constant when she revealed her nature wasn't human. Though he couldn't decide if the following comment was a compliment or some sort of insult. The name she gave him was either unbelievable or spectacular according to her race. He associated the basics of flight and her wings were true gifts to the Ooca race.
"I'm nothing more than a mere human. Meibatsu, Sesshou Meibatsu is my name. And I have no clue what malady has befallen me." he answered, taking her a bit too literally there. Yet the way she spoke made himself unsure if she was someone from his past playing jedi mind tricks or his future.
"I wouldn't but I trust that you wouldn't do that to me. Am I wrong to place that much faith in you?" She sure as hell wasn't making any bit of this novel enlightenment easier. Unexpectedly, the ooca would press her lips against his flesh bringing about a relieving sensation. But just as she pressed her lips against him did she become one with his being. The natural manipulation of electricity had privileged him with perks that he still recalled. The youth art was more than indirect electricity, but centralized with that being pumped in the body. He could briefly hear the sound of her beating hart clearly and feel the neurons traveling throughout her body along with other senses.
With her kiss leaving his tan cheeks, static would appear between them for half a second. He had almost forgotten about his abilities from the shock of losing his past. "I hope that was a kiss of good faith Scheherazade. I'm gonna have to ask you to forgive me. Vulnerability isn't something that I like to make a strong point of mine, but it seems you have the honor of being the first person I've encountered." he finished, but now turned his head in a different direction.
"Tell me something. Why is it that your heart beats five times for every time my own beats one and a half?"
[/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by Scheherazade Al Khalifa on Aug 12, 2011 17:22:17 GMT -5
He tastes like a storm, all crackling energy and ferocious destruction, and that is when Scheherazade realizes that his ailment is far too much for her to cure. They didn’t cover this sort of problem in the books she read to learn her art, most likely because the authors had assumed that any Oocca who managed to get amnesia would probably die from the shock. She can feel the confusion in him, the words vibrating his chest as she presses against him to feel his temperature through her skin. Scheherazade wants nothing more than to take him home, sit him down with a cup of warm tea, and ever so gently find a way to fix him. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sesshou Meibatsu.” She rolls his name off her tongue with a trill, birdsong coloring her words with a melody she doesn’t even try to control.
“You trust easily for a man in the arms of a strange woman. I think I like it.” She releases him with a sigh, fingers trailing on his shirt. “Now how shall we fix you? It’s not a poison or a brain injury, else I should have been able to fix it.” Scheherazade tilts her head as she begins to pace around the table, focusing on the problem at hand and the last of his questions. “Hmm? Oh, my heart beats so quickly because my people are a kind of bird.” She partially opens a single wing, careful not to knock anything over in her demonstration. “We were a sort of angel once, but now we are merely something interesting.”
The patrons are eying the conversation with far too much interest for Scheherazade’s taste. It’s a breach of all of the healer’s prerogatives she’s ever taken, all the rights for privacy shattered by the dingy inhabitants of the room. She had a room, a nice little bed in a decent nook, and presently she has the odd feeling she will need it. “A kiss is a kiss, Sesshou. It only has a few meanings. Which one would you like it to be? But come, this is an abysmal place for a conversation such as this. Would it be too forward of me to invite you to my room for a more… private discussion?”
|
|
|
|
Post by Sesshou Meibatsu on Aug 15, 2011 13:39:34 GMT -5
Sesshou was still fully confused at whatever Scheherazade was honestly attempting to do. She surely left traces of her personality void for readability. He could only guess that it was the certain flair she kept around herself that caused her traits to be ever so fleeting. Was she someone of good or ill intentions? That was all that Sesshou cared for right now and currently she hadn't made any actions that threatened his life. So for now, at least, he could relax around her.
"There isn't much that I can do but trust you. You don't seem like you're aiming to harm me. So why shouldn't I trust you?" He voiced wondering if the woman had any intention of leading him astray. She pointed out that his amnesia wasn't something that was easily repairable and of her angelic history. It did serve to explain the intrigue and air of mystery that enveloped her feathery frame. But then she was quick to point him in the direction of her bedroom. Such an action was a bit further than he could have predicted their conversation would go. She was correct in her actions though, patrons were beginning to pay noticeable attention to the pair despite their gluttony.
"I'd like it to be the meaning that allows me to get the most out of this fresh relationship between you and I. And no Scheherazade, I don't think it would be too forward in this circumstance." he answered before standing and ogling the ooca. He was delighted to have met a possible friend or acquaintance despite his powerful drawback.
"Lead the way."
[/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by Scheherazade Al Khalifa on Aug 23, 2011 14:42:40 GMT -5
Flying is natural to birds, the euphoric high and feel of the wind twisting around their fragile bodies. Taking him by the hand and leading him to her measly little rented room feels like flying, from the warmth of her palm dwarfed by his hand and the buoying weight of absolute trust he places in her. Scheherazade, the teller of tales has run out of words to spin and truths to disseminate. He’s so much bigger then her, the crackle of that which makes birds flee spiraling around his aura, and she shivers. Does he know how easily he could harm her, throw her against a wall and break her bones like cheap kindling? But she has a duty to him, a responsibility as a healer to see him right no matter what.
“I could not harm you, for that would mean forsaking every vow I made as both a healer and an Oocca.” She smiles back over her shoulder at him, tries to be reassuring even though she knows her bedside manner has been described as ‘far too clinical’ and ‘a tad bit molesting’. Scheherazade hates the attention the pair has gotten, would rather hear the wolf whistles and catcalls then let her new patient go untreated.
It’s a small room, a bit dingy just like the rest of the building, but it contains a bed big enough for her and a small nightstand with a chipped pitcher and bowl. She’s had better, her own home makes this room seem like a pauper’s house. A belated breath, a thought that crosses her mind a moment too late, and she lets her hand fall from his. She turns to face him, a thoughtful look on her face. “Do you even know what is wrong with you, Sesshou?” Long legs take her swiftly across the room, gracefully fold so that she sits on the bed and beckons for him to close the door behind him. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
She feels like a harlot, heart beating in anticipation of something that will never come. A storm and a bird, trapped in a room all alone. It will not end as she anticipates it will, a fact she is coming to swiftly realize in her heart of hearts.
|
|
