((Logged 3/24/01 by Dirah))
Bledavik, Market Road North
Here the stream of merchants comes to its northern end, breaking off before a huge, simple stone which leads to the festive square beyond. The noise of buissness and sound of exchange fill the air, making it both a very tense and very friendly place at the same moment. A to the east walks up to the northern part of the eastern side of Bledavik; a small, covert to the west appears to lead to a well shadowed, spiraling stairway to the west. The road also leads to the .
Contents:
Cerencia
Sigurd has arrived.
Having split off from the rest of the group, Cerencia follows his protective instincts to keep with Dirah. He trails behind him by a good distance, splitting his attention between being stealthy and yet more obvious than the other runner. Cerencia doesn't mind being a target instead. For now, they can both keep going.
Thankful now for getting a feel for this town beforehand, Dirah runs, keeping himself only aware of Cerencia, not all that far behind. And yet, for all that the falling darkness allows, Dirah is not exactly a hidden target while fleeing- his cloak billows as he runs- a better necessity than merely tripping over the blasted thing, and there's not much to do of the noise.. There is only the brief bitter realization, as he casts a glance over his shoulder, that even though his sides have begun to ache from this run, and even though they have come quite a ways and somehow managed to get separated from Tifa.. That they are -still- being pursued.
Ah, it's been too long from his time in Solaris and being a non-combatant has severely killed his ability to track the pair without being detected as he might have been able to pull off in his youth. There were too many people for Sigurd to use his ether to his advantage either, so just stick with a good old fashioned chase na? These were the times he was mildly thankful for his artificially enhanced endurance, but the running was starting to wear on him. He wasn't a kid anymore, as he often reminded himself, but he kept on, keeping his gaze on the two running just ahead of him. A burst of speed, and he -could- catch the closest one, but he dared not waste the strength unless he was sure he could capture him. Never the less, the ex-Fire Element refuses to give up until he can't physically endure any longer.
Cerencia is older than anyone else here, and lags behind partially out of that slowing in his joints as well as reasonable need. A quick look behind his shoulder reveals that Sigurd is trailing him still. Cerencia grits his teeth. There isn't much breath to yell directions, and he's already decided who of the pair of them is better to be sacrificed if needed. And what else? A quick twist demonstrates that he's not entirely helpless, vaulting over the edge of an extended table from one of the stalls. Let that slow Sigurd down, if at all.
Goodness, don't these people -give up-? Well, there's no real point in musing upon that now. Gritting his teeth in irritation, he turns his attention back to where he's running, trying to dodge any of the sparse people and stalls that find themselves in his way- thankfully, the population on the streets has thinned out a great deal, with the hour and the tournament to consider, but the clutter on the streets? That was a different matter. Cursing mildly upon each now hurting exhale, Dirah tries frantically to sort out where to go. Isn't there some shadowy place to duck into for a moment to collect his breath and try to sort out what to do?
Well... it didn't slow him down, but it gave him an idea... So Sigurd jumps up onto that half cleared stand and grits his teeth as he makes a leap for the thick cloth covers that overhang the shops, careful to step only on the supporting beams for fear of losing his balance, managing to race alongside Ceren with a clear path rather than dodging carts and people. At the end of the 'canopy', he leaps back off it, landing in front of Ceren with a soft grunt, whirling and bodily blocking him from running any further. He would feel -that- landing in the morning, but for now he ignored it, bracing for impact if Ceren can't stop fast enough, or to grab him if he tries to veer off.
Cerencia is cut off quickly, but lowers his head and shoulders into a throwing of his weight forward with an elbow leading. The heavy mass of his cloak is too easily grasped to slow him down, and Ceren intends to get away as quickly as possible lest that be exploited. Rather than impress all his force into a leap, though, he keeps his feet steady so he can continue running with luck.
This isn't sounding good... Dirah casts another swift glance over his shoulder, narrowing his uncovered eye in a rather pronounced display of annoyance. Oh get -away-, Ceren, get -away-.. The last thing we need to do is get caught, and especially by -his- likes. But what can be done? Uncertain yet if Cerencia is going to get away or not, Dirah keeps running, finding a focus to run towards in the form of the stairs ahead, which apparently lead to an acceptable amount of more darkness- and a hiding spot, or at least a tactical spot in his favor, is just the thing he rather desperately neesd right now.
Sigurd jerks to the side a little to avoid the elbow, wincing as he's knocked half off balance by the stubbornly running Ceren, cursing under his breath in the language of his birth as he stumbles to stay on his feet. All that running was doing nothing for his coordination, with a fight beforehand to boot. His arm was still killing him, but even so, he reached out to try to grab the heavy cloak fluttering by, and just missing no thanks to his slightly off kilter stance. Fine then, take the chase back up again, ignoring his legs protesting after that jump and the stabbing pain in his side from the high demand of a body unused to combat or running, spare to chase down a disobediant prince. No matter, where they were running, they were trapping themselves, there's no way back down from up higher on the mountain, so he'd follow them up there... He just hoped there weren't any guards stationed outside the castle at this time of night. That would be the last thing he needed in this mess of an evening.
His cloak dodging just in time--though more out of chance than deliberate action--Cerencia continues to move onwards. He spares waving a hand to the direction of the stairs in the intent of hopefully losing the persistant pirate, gesturing that he would move on. Even his own breath comes harsh in his chest now--he was a little too old for this. With any luck, the stairs would do it.
Yet age is not the only burdening factor in this sprint- Dirah, youngest of all of them, unfortuantely never had the opportunity to really work on an endurance that a long-term chase like this required. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he nods, aiming for the stairs in an attempt to make it up there in an attempt to find any means of shelter up there... Even though every breath -burns- now, and Dirah's throat has drawn raw with the effort of this all. But not about to give up any time soon, he sets his focus for that stairway.. And with any hope, he'll be able to lose that blasted pirate in the area above.
Shakhan Square, South
You enter this wide city square, the mass majority of which is dedicated to a marvelous, huge water . Pools of water trail down to this fountain through a simple stone mechanism, leading to a simple oasis in this desolate area. Strangest of all is the pale, rough grass which gently sprouts about this site. Shops and merchants line the edges of this marvelous town center, which branches off to the and .
Contents:
Cerencia
Sigurd has arrived.
Stairs... Joy. Sigurd Sighed inwardly and really wishes he'd spent more time on the -stairs- in Nisan rather than fooling around on the elevator in Jasper. Damn it all. But, as tenatious as he was, he kept right on following, hoping his charge was having more luck with his impersonator than he was with these two. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, he was gripping his side with one hand, his Optical Whip still held in his right hand, pausing to look for his targets... And catch his breath. They weren't going anywhere now that they were here, he could take a break....
Cerencia makes it up the stairs first, amazingly enough. He immedietly runs forward along the left edge of the square, splitting off in an another attempt to hopefully divert the following pirate. The cloak is not much help in keeping him from being lost, though, what with all the running that causes it to billow and draw the eye to motion. Better him than Dirah, though. And as he drops to a light jog, one hand falls to his belt underneath the cloak...
Dirah is not prepared for this sort of exertion.. Half choking with the very effort of breathing, he takes the opposite side Cerencia took, veering right. At least there is darkness here, with only the moonlight to guide.. And at least there is not a massive and gawking crowd to hold back one's morality over starting quarrels in public. But this is also.. A very -open- area, and that grates on Dirah as much as anything else might. Finding an abandoned stall, he drops to a crouch there, finally stopping, literally hissing with the sheerest effort of breathing. You must catch your breath, you -must-.. But stopping so suddenly is just as much pain, as everything threatens to cramp with the sudden effort of being still and the chill of a desert night. But still, it is all he can do to attempt to catch his breath, unable to keep the heavy breaths perfectly quiet, while he wonders if he had the good sense to bring a weapon with him.
The downfall of chasing more than one person... They have an -irritating- habit of splitting up. Out of breath and in pain, but not ready to stop yet, Sigurd paces near the entrance to the square, alternately looking in the general direction of the two fleeing men as he walks off the pain in his legs and side, breathing just as heavily as either of them, using all his control to keep focused on the pair as much as he could. "Well... That was fun..." His voice was soft and slightly rushed thanks to his difficult time breathing. "There's more stairs up ahead, if you wish to try and kill me with another chase. Now stand your ground and talk. Or fight. I'm tired of running."
Killing with scenery was always worth good points. But Cerencia is also not up for an attempt to destroy his heart with athletics. But why stop, simply at the request of the pursuer? Ceren must keep his speed low, ignoring Sigurd for now while still hoping to draw him a little further away from Dirah's hiding place. His hand rests now on the obscured hip. And otherwise, he keeps moving... although the slowing in his steps is more than obvious.
"Charming..." Hardly audible at all, and in their nature, hardly recognizeable as words as Dirah tries to choke out words beneath his aching breaths. "Nice line, taking -you- were the one following -us-." But, with a hiss of pain from cramping muscles, Dirah moves into less of a collapsed possition and more into a more proper kneel, reaching inside his jacket in an attempt to find if he had remembered to tote about his gun- or even his grudgingly trained weapon- with him today.. And yet, for the moment, only finds the frame of his hand held mirror. Grumbling darkly, he finally tries to focus on the scene about him, noting Sigurd's possition and Ceren, trying to draw his attention away.. Wonderful. The capture of Ceren is just about as unprofitable as getting captured himself, and still... This entire situation was quickly becoming a whole new degree of irritating. And still he is silent- let us see how this works out. For Dirah is -quite- against the notion of this breaking into an outright fight- two on one or not.
Subbornly refusing to move from his place pacing in front of the archway and give the pair a way out, Sigurd focuses on Dirah's voice for now. "I chased you because you have something to do with that person trying to pretend they're the Young Master!" Good enough reason, wasn't it? Finally letting his hand fall away from his side, Sigurd stopped his pacing, breathing slowly to ease the pain that still gnawed at his side yet and scratched at his throat faintly. Dry desert air and running were a hellish combination on the senses, to be sure. "Who are you and what the hell are you trying to pull? I assume you're also involved in that fake Fei who defeated the Young Master in the last match." Unlikely to get information, but at least put the question out in the open. Talking was better than fighting by far. And he didn't feel like running up any more stairs.
Good enough reason? Good enough for Cerencia to simply shrug, the motion of his shoulders being the message to Dirah there. The older man begins to make his way further along the tents. With the slower motion, it is much easier to blend in with the shadowy forms of the canvas structures. No need to say anything, and they both had only the need to hide. But Ceren does not simply wander off and abandon... he moves with care, letting his ears pick up on the scene behind him.
Stairs? No, no more stairs. Those last ones are going to have Dirah aching for days- trying to dash up another set will certainly cause his legs, by some act of overexertion that was never before seen in scientific study, to detach from his body. For a long moment Dirah is quiet, finally being able to draw his breaths into a more reasonable pace, although he was still in more than his share of pain. Blasted pirate, if only he would have given up sooner... "Now, now.." Dirah still keeps ducked in hiding- its an advantage he needs, of all things, especially if he isn't able to find anything more defencive than a mirror. And there is no reason to pretend to not be there- he already heard and responded to Dirah, at least. So, why not make use of it? Doubt is always one's best friend. "Don't you think that's a great deal to do on an assumption?" Roundabout reasoning! Wonderful. Its about the only thing Dirah can hope to claim to be good at, especially in a situation like this.
"I think it is a rather fair assumption, myself." Don't try doubt here, not now. He'd seen the pair of them around when Bart faced off with that staff-wielding Fei and now also with the fake Bart. Besides, once Sigurd had his mind set on something, he could be just as stubborn as his charge. Now, when that same boy was possibly in danger, it would take a lot more than trying to place doubt and little riddles to throw him off. "Answer my question." Direct, commanding, he wasn't in the mood to play around. Tired and hurting weren't very good factors to be added into the mix of irritation and confusion either, for that matter. His grip tightens around the whip, taking a few steps toward where he felt Dirah was located, but not far enough from the arch to make an exit for the other, he repeats. "What are you trying to do?"
Enough of that. Cerencia leans into the shadow of the tent nearest him, turning back at last to watch the pair behind him. So they could not be left to disappear... easy enough. And curse himself later for forgetting to replace Dirah's weapon after he had dry-cleaned the cloak to perfectly suit his needs for not -too- much starch in the fabric. Unlike Dirah, Ceren remains silent. But his mood positively sings with possibly the same type of displeasure that Sigurd bears. So the pirate's charge is threatened? Good enough--so was Ceren's.
And now he's moving forward? Making a mental note to always, -always- double check that he has his weapon with him before going out again, Dirah grits his teeth mildly. Right. So, well, -one- of them has to get away... And if he's moving this way, then Cerencia has a chance. This can't be kept up forever.. And Dirah gives a hope that Sigurd is the first to give up and leave. Now, why isn't this seeming very -likely- right now? "We're really doing nothing that concerns you." And that much is true. Did it matter if he existed or not? Not as far as these plans went- they would flow as simply with or without such people to bother it. "And what we are doing is only for the betterment of things. That is all."
Sigurd frowns slightly at the contradiction. The way 'Bart' was ranting, it came across as if he should be very concerned by this whole thing. And now this man was saying he shouldn't be? How incredibly frustrating. But! Regardless, he stayed calm, closing his good eye for a long moment. Ah, he really was exhausted from that run, closing his eye just felt rather pleasant, a shame he can't just sleep here. Foolish thoughts, all of it, and he pushed it aside as easily as he opened his good eye once more, glancing in the direction the other one had run off to. "Betterment of things? That's a phrase I've heard before. It never works. Ask Solaris."
Never mind it all... Cerencia's patience was deep enough to allow him to continue waiting, motionless enough to blend in easily by now. His breath has begun to return, and steadies itself into almost believing itself capable of another jog. Unlike those who had fought in the Tournament, Ceren had kept himself relatively rested... but age never helped. Let Dirah wear Sigurd out with words, and let Ceren shift to begin working his way back along the back edge of the tents.
Its awfully nice that Cerencia has patience. Because Dirah is very promptly running out of any sliver of any such thing. He never was a patient one.. And yet, kneeling there in the shadows yet, finds that he is stubborn enough to not just get up out of the shadows and find -some- swift way out. His glance flicks to Ceren, or what he can guess is him, some drifting shadow at the other edge of the square, but focuses not long.. Right. Buy him some time to do what he will.. And So Dirah merely takes a deep breath, throat still sore, and plans to just keep -talking-.. Let that take up his focus for the time, and not wherever Ceren has gotten to.. But what on earth? Solaris? There's a concept that.. Being cheerfully ignorant of, Dirah will happilly leap over, "So are the words of those who have no motivation to better themselves. What have you to say such, you whose dreams have been blackened, and what you aim for lost? There are times when betterment is necessary. It is the natural flow of things."
And since when has what they aimed for been lost? A frown crossed Sigurd's expression as he mulls over these words. Distraction, yes, Dirah was certainly doing what he had aimed for, but to what danger to himself as Sigurd begins to calmly walk toward his hiding place. Not directly for, but he could sense his emotion well enough to be mostly right on target, his gaze searching the darkness for his form. "Things in these times are rarely natural. Do not speak of things you have a limited view of. But then, nor should I speak, if that is the case. This 'betterment' you speak of is not the way, particularly if you plan on going about it with threats and hostilities. Is impersonating and causing hell truely worth it?"
An advance on Dirah's position? That allows Ceren to pick up the pace, as is needed at this point. His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword, the other gripping the sheath... and deciding on not drawing the blade after all. With luck, he would not regret that decision. What Sigurd says or does not say goes mostly unheard, filed away for review later. In the meantime, he narrows his eyes and nigh -glares- at the threat to one of his charges. That is simple enough to understand. Do Not Menace the Cubs.
"But it is easy to see when things have gone awry, when dreams have fallen short.." Ceren.. -Hurry-. Its harder and harder for Dirah to keep an even, reasonable tone to his voice when Sigurd is getting, slowly but surely, closer. And as he does, its oddly more noticeable how mildly androgynous that voice is- trained to a tone. And Dirah resists the urge to tense from where he kneels- panic at this time would only work to strain his words further. Just keep talking, keep talking.. There's nothing else to -do-, unless you intend to brain the pirate with your mirror. Which.. While tempting, doesn't exactly rank it up there with Dignity. Or practicality. But that, of course, is a forgotten second. "Who said we were threatening anyone? Or being hostile, for that manner? We merely are making ourselves known, as those who will set -right- what was forgotten so long ago by others. It is merely your fault for being unsettled by it." Who wouldn't? A woman shows up dressed up as Bart and Dirah expects them all to ignore it? Yes. Yes he does. "Merely.. Those who have strayed seldom see how far they have drifted from their destination. How far will you let the winds carry you until you find yourself too lost to return? Best to leave it to those with better focus."
"Then why don't you redirect those so 'off course' instead of apparently attempting to replace them." Simple enough question as Sigurd got ever closer to the source of the voice. But now he was more aware of Ceren. Or rather, more aware of the glare fixed on him. No matter, he could see Dirah now, and he stopped barely 5 feet from him, single blue eye narrowed on him, not in hostility, but in a frustrated -confusion-. "Tell me what you're up to. It's easier than running around and raising suspicions."
Five feet? More than enough for Cerencia. The man is not foolish enough to lunge into a dash in an attempt to clear the distance, but the distraction -is- needed to safely get Dirah out of there. Ceren had already unlooped the scabbard from his belt, holding it in a firm enough grip to pull the weight with him as he crosses the moonlit square for Sigurd's back. The attack was not even that necessary--what Ceren required was a distraction to break Dirah away, and if he managed to strike the pirate across the head to dizzy him? Good enough. That was all they needed.
That pirate is -far- too close... But, well, with Ceren creeping up far behind, its just a matter of confusing him for a few moments more. And what better way than with the obvious? With a wry little smile, Dirah stands up out of the shadow- all the better to run from, after all, if Cerencia's attempt works- bringing himself out of the sparse shade of his hiding spot and fuller into the moonlight. And isn't -that- an odd sight, even cloaked, that Dirah can match his frustrated look with such a smile, and glance back from only one uncovered eye of palest blue, bright behind those too-pale bangs. Is something wrong with this picture? Dirah can only smile and note, evenly, "Sometimes broken things need to be utterly replaced."
Now... was Dirah holding the mirror? Or was Dirah the mirror -itself-? Sigurd blinked once, but kept any emotional responce admirably in check rather than deal with a sudden outburst. That was more the Young Master's case. In his momentary shock, he could not come up with a good responce to that, much to his discredit. But, to Dirah's credit, he was effectively distracted enough to not pay any mind to the advancing Cerencia. However, that distraction was only momentarily from shock, the rest of it brought on by the First Mate's apparent ability to put two and two together, as his gaze turned somewhat cold, rather than shocked. Not all pirates were as painfully -dull- as his charge, after all. "You aren't going to get away with this..."
With a gritting of his teeth, Cerencia finally reaches a decent distance to take a brief lunge and swing his sword up. The scabbard gives the weapon extra weight--which will only help if the strike connects--but it also keeps the damages from being a decapitation. Let people yell at him later for not seeking a killing blow. That was for -others- to handle. And, rather than focus completely on a knockout strike, Ceren seeks a dizzying... allowing him to save part of his energy for the dash away or a leaping back should the pirate whirl and retaliate.
And what is there to be said to this? Dirah seems.. Oddly amused at the even muted expressions of stun upon Sigurd's face. And oughtn't he be unnerved to be facing down someone, when that someone is armed and he is not? Well, yes. And it is really a pity that, for all taht Sigurd is an empath, Dirah is.. Not. And so it is quietly obvious how unnerved he is, how tensed he is to flee.. Despite how he merely smirks at Sigurd, a reflection for all but the cloak.. And certainly, a few details here and there. And to his words, Dirah can only shake his head mildly, amusement to his voice, "I'm afraid we already have." And he backs up an inadvertant step as Cerencia moves in to strike Sigurd. Please, just hit him. Dirah is getting ever so tired of talking to him- and he's being awfully poor conversation.
Empath perhaps, but not godlike in those abilities at all, he was so focused on Dirah, trying to figure him out, that it wasn't until he took a step back that Sigurd realized something was amiss. Barely having a moment to 'check' with his empathy for a presence behind him, he ducked out of the way, too slow, still recieving a glancing blow that nearly sent him staggering into Dirah, grimacing in pain as he manages to veer off to one side before causing any further undesired collisions, half turning to face whatever hit him, letting his whip uncoil to defend himself.
With Sigurd far enough out of range for an easy swing--and Cerencia not planning on a second blow anyways--the man decides that the diversion is cleanly enough done here. "Let us go," he mutters, his voice low from unhappiness as he turns already to begin the much-easier run back down the stairs. It was best to be out of range of that whip. But even as Ceren begins his retreat, he takes an extra step back and pauses for Dirah to depart first.
Making way for Dirah to go first? Fine with him. Taking advantage of that moment in which Sigurd barely misses running into him in stun, Dirah breaks past him in a dash, realizing only afterwards that, after that run before, his muscles quite weren't ready to be pushed into a run again. No matter in that- as physical safety really seems to be on the bottom of everyone's list today. He does pause however, to cast a grin over to Sigurd, and calling, almost cheerfully, "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Sigurd..." A vague gesture of a hand he gives, grinning all the while, "But I hope you wont be offended if I wouldn't hope to meet like this again. 'Ta!" He just -had- to get his two cents in, didn't he? And with that, he presses his luck no farther, and breaks off into a run once more, down into the shadowed stretches of the main street. And at least, going this way, he can -jump- down those damn stairs.