Salt Lick [Open.]

[l y n d i s]

There’s a broad smile upon that soft mouth of hers. She’s leaning easily over the railing of the ship and peering off-ways.

She’d made this trip what seems like a hundred times now, but she still felt that familiar flutter of excitement welling within the depth of her stomach. Thalasa; port of wonders. It sang to her while she was away. It spoke to her in her dreams, of how much it’d missed her, and her dreams spoke volumes of how much she missed the town. It was exciting and foreign despite her near-frequent visits. Always something new to explore, and always new people to come into contact with.

And she felt that familiar hollowness of abandonment each time she had to board her ship once again. That feeling of abandonment churning deep within the pit of her stomach. Of course this feeling was nothing more than a distant memory on the trip over.

She was young enough to never have felt a man’s firm touch upon her soft form. She’s young, and hopeful, despite the bad she’s heard of Elysium. Hopeful enough to have forgotten that same sinking feeling which plagued her time and time again as their ship drifted away from Halite, and back towards home.

Though despite her near-infatuation for the amazing port city Lyndis remains devout to her own tiny sea-side town, and the simplicities it has to offer. It’s pleasant, and warm, with the sun bouncing bright off the horizon each and every morning, stirring it’s citizens into wakefulness, in all truth, it was something Lyndis missed dearly over her time spent in the land of Thalasa.

As with any teenage girl there seems to be no happy-medium. Though traveling between the two seems to work just fine for young Lyndis.

The scent of salt hangs heavy in the air, perfuming both her clothing and the soft, mousey locks of her hair. It smothers her clothing, damp and warming with the wash of the uprising tide bursting against the bow of that old ship. The sails hung taught and inflated, with the sun dangling nigh over-head, and the sight of Thalasa‘s port in the distance; It was almost a perfect day for such an adventure.

Lyn’s young heart is near-bursting out of her chest as she stumbles downwards and along that catwalk. Onto what could be considered solid ground; the docks of Halite. It’s good to feel something firm beneath your feet, not that Miss Matthias much minded being upon that old, sun bleached ship. Still, she’d been aboard for some time now. While it was a relatively short trip, it was still some day’s worth of sailing upon that shaky, quivering vessel.

“Oh,” it’s good to be home,” she breathes out, receiving some odd looks from those crewmates taking their time to step about her. There’s a strange lilt to her voice. She’s obvious not from around here, despite her attempts to mask such. She’d been here enough, and she should know their own distinct accent. Perhaps she just needed a while’s more practice, she’d definitely get the chance to work on it over the length of this week!

Her fingertips itch with excitement, working to smooth upon her skirt and thereafter winding about the length of one of those thin braids framing soft features. She’s eager to set things up, and even more-so to wander away from those stands that her father would no doubt be vending his goods at. Her hand lifts upwards to snatch at the next passerby’s shirt sleeve. Someone from the ship, good, “Tell my father I’ll be back before nightfall,” Lyndis informs this man with an all too coaxing smile. It’s warm, and almost impossible for anyone to deny her permission for, well, anything!

Lyndis had a pretty face, and she’s more than aware of such!

She’s doing a quick and almost easy spin with a low dip to be had thereafter; a bow towards this man, as if expressing her gratitude for delivering this message to her father. It’s with that motion that she’s off, and wandering onwards, and away from the port, and towards the center of Halite, maybe for something to eat, maybe to simply stir up trouble.

Either way, the excitement is more than apparent on that soft mouth of hers as she skips onwards, and off of that pier.

[Monroe Louise]

"Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me." Her voice flowed past her lips sweeter than just-churned apple cider as her body was shoved and pressed in between the crowds. She tightened her skeletal fingers around her basket, feeling the broken and twisted plastic biting into the once-tender skin of her palm. "We kidnap and ravage and don’t give a hoot," she sang, her voice gaining volume as she shoved the toe of her worn boot against the grimy stone beneath. "Drink up me ‘arties, yo-ho."

The faint hairs that escaped her hat were tickling the back of her neck due to the increasing breeze as she made her way to the heart of Halite. It should be busy by this hour and with a basket full of bouquets, Monroe reckoned she would have a little luck. The petals of freshly plucked tulips brushed under the softness of her chin as she gathered the beaten basket closer to her flat chest. In fact, today her chest was flatter than usual. Underneath the tattered, rusty-coloured shirt, her teacup breasts were concealed in compact layers of bandage.

The woman’s normally blood red lips were pale and nude, vaguely chapped at the corners. Dirt smudged her sharp cheekbones in attempt to muffle her over-feminine features. Tugging her hat down snuggly while tucking in a few stray hairs, she focused on her body language, inspecting the other men bustling about and shouting their sales. Monroe’s shoulders slumped forward, bending her head back ever so slightly to give the impression of unearned accomplishment. The hardest part was insisting her hips to stay firm and slide along with the sluggish strut of her legs.

"We’re rascals, scoundrels, villains and knaves." A grin broke open her mouth, revealing a perfect assembly of white. Her eyes stayed on the ground for the most part, tracing inside the gritty cracks of the stone street. Inhaling, the pungent perfume of salt and fish punched her senses powerfully. Opening her lips for the following lyric, a grunt popped out instead. Two slender shoulders collided roughly and the basket of flowers tumbled to the ground. The old plastic wouldn’t snap without a fight, keeping the daisies and tulips inside, wound beautifully in purple or white lace.

"I’m so sorry," she lowered her voice, achieving the rugged sound that came natural to most men, and rubbing a hand against her shoulder as a scowl covered over her face. Damnit, now she was going to be late for her destined place on the market. Monroe quickly reached out for her bouquets before pausing. "Shoot!" Her cobalt blue optics narrowed under furious eyebrows. Petals were being crushed under oblivious by-passers, hastening their pace around the small commotion. With a jerk of her neck, the woman glanced up to the other female she crashed into, mildly dazzled by the array of ginger tresses and matching coppery eyes. Mmm, copper eyes.

[l y n d i s]

She’s pretty.

He’s pretty.

Whoever it was that she bumped into was pretty. With those crisp blue eyes and high cheekbones. It’s a girl, Lyndis decides. Despite all her travels Miss Matthias had never seen a man with such pretty features. Aside that what man carried around posies, or daffodils, or whatever sort of flowers those were. Despite this sexually ambiguous being’s rugged and masculine voice, flat chest and dull lips Lyndis remains convinced that they are, indeed, a female, and little could sway her current opinion.

“Eh!” she grunts out in reply to the supposed female’s apology, “No worries, sweets,” she comes to coo thereafter, a term of endearment to a being who was more than likely, older than her short nineteen summers. Sure, Lyndis was young, but she was no fool, nor was she immature.

She was more than aware that this was simply an accident and Thalasa wasn’t exactly a place to be picking fights. Just as the rest of Elysia it was riddled with spies, guards, and all forms of government men. Folk who would be all too eager to toss a foreigner such as her within the pen in no time flat. And, well, Lyn wasn’t quite ready to submit herself to such a fate.

She finds herself pressing steadying fingertips upon the curve of this sexless being’s elbow, fingertips pressing upon such before her pretty head comes to bow downwards, towards those trampled flowers with a deep set scowl. “Hm,” she near purrs, her face tipping upwards to peer upon this person’s features before the young girl makes a motion, stooping to sweep up the stems, and rumpled petals, plastic wrapping whicker and all. And truth be told the normally chipper Lyndis isn’t quite sure what to say. Should she be the one apologizing? Perhaps, no harm had been done on her behalf, only this being’s flowers had been ruined.

She offers that bundle back towards this being before pursing her lips in a frank sort of manner, “It’s a bit late in the tulip season, shame this happened,” Lyn coos, that almost awkward accent prominent upon the soft swell of her pout. Fingertips pluck at one of the few petals remaining in some sort of attempts to fix the silken piece’s rumpled state. She’s met with little success, but still finds herself offering such back towards this person with an almost apologetic smile, as if some lover late for a date.

[Monroe Louise]

The clouds from the morning had been clearing, leaving the musty shades of grey behind across the wide, blue canvas. The wind wasn't powerful enough to knock someone over, but it wasn't a day to wear a hat in Halite. Unfortunately, Monroe didn't pay any attention to weather forecasts.

Sweets?

A veil of befuddlement fell over her conscience as too gentle fingers curled around her slender arm. It was difficult to ignore the shiver the girl caused and the sudden rate her blood began racing through hot viens. Were her cheeks changing a hint of color? On her feet, her head was inclined and bowed a few inches to stare at the crumpled and creased petals. They were no good now, but no discomfort tainted her features. Instead, her lips twitched into a hospitable and maybe just a little suggestive smile at the copper-eyed female's efforts. "It's fine," she whispered.


Brushing her cold fingertips against the other's palm holding the petals, she let the breeze capture them into the light dance steps through the shrinking crowds. "Yes, it is. I pick them early and save them. I have white roses for later on around Christmas." Her male farce had weakened completely without her notice; voice becoming fragile and soft, constantly holding a light quip atmosphere.

A gust parted through the bunches of people and blew off Monroe's cap, setting loose her pliable ringlets. She twisted her petite frame around quickly, a quiet whimper leaving the depths of her chest. "Today must not be my lucky day," Monroe fretted as she turned back to the stranger with hope-filled eyes. "Where are you headed anyway?" she asked, tilting her head, creases forming at the corners of her eyes as they narrow just a pinch with her inquiry.

The girl didn't seem like the sort to be overly friendly and Monroe was almost certain she was about to be rejected in her attempt to become friends, or perhaps her intentions lie in a not-entirely amiable nature.

[l y n d i s]

There’s a hint of color within that woman’s once almost sooty cheeks. Well, maybe there wasn’t, and maybe Lyndis is simply seeing things. Her gaze is intent upon this sexless creature’s face, searching for that hint of red she’d noticed just moments prior. Nothing. Perhaps it had been her imagination, and the young girl is quick to dismiss such.

“Well… I’m sorry,” she apologizes upon hearing this young being’s tale. She picked them early, which meant that a lot of work had been put into simply sustaining these plants for some time now. Frick, just Lyn’s luck. Those coppery eyes of hers pinched closed for a short moment before her attention is being drawn back toward this young person’s features. Today must not be her lucky day. Oh… she’d lost her cap. It really was not. Lyndis couldn’t think of a single day when so many small things went wrong within her life.

Where was she going to? Well, in all honesty she was going nowhere in specific. She was just going. She’d spent days upon that ship, and now she was within her second home, and she just needed to go, “Well, see,” she murmurs before pursing those soft lips of hers, “I’m not from around here, and it’s been a while since I’ve come to Thalasa,” did this girl even truly care what she was up to? Perhaps not, but Lyndis was on a roll, why stop talking now? “And sometimes I like to see if anything’s changed since I last left,” Perhaps her accent was all the more obvious now that she’d mentioned that she wasn’t from about here, though, perhaps not. Maybe she didn’t even talk oddly at all. Though people have told her she has.

“Would you like to come with?” she offers, “Since I ruined your flowers,” Well, not exactly, Lyndis takes the blame nonetheless, and willingly so!

Despite this being what she’d called her second home Lyndis by no means had a copious amount of friends. She simply was there. She worked, and she enjoyed the city for all it was; the people it had to offer and their strange dialect, the eccentric goods available on nigh every corner, and even more so! There were restaurants, pubs, bistros, and other fineries that were intended to be savored by folk as herself, and god knew she was thankful for it.

“We can get a drink after we’re done snooping,” she offers up with a smile. Sure, Lyndis was young, nineteen to be exact, though within her home town it didn’t so much matter how old one was, it was all emotional maturity, and Lyndis liked to think she was, indeed, mature enough.

[Monroe Louise]

The hat wasn't immensely important. She had more at home (wherever that may be). It would bother her the entire day where the cap had blown away to, nevertheless. She was always one to over-think things, but Ms. Louise never reckoned this attribute a fault. Goodness no. If you ask enough questions, you'll find your answer. That was her way of thinking at least.

Monroe hated when people stared. Paranoia bloomed in her stomach and she pinched her slender 'brows together, causing a crease on her forehead. She cleared her throat abruptly, fingertips briskly tracing the crown of her hairline for any hint of sweat. Did she have something on her face?

With her thorough worrying, she was almost unaware of the other's reply. Her head jerked up, eyelids sent a-flutter. "Hm?" she almost purred out, trying her hardest to make it as if she were paying her utmost attention. An excuse! "Oh, you have an accent," she said once the girl was finished. "Lovely. I'm new here, so we can learn together." Was she always this convincing of a liar?

The two did have something in common, however. Lack of friends. Monroe felt the skin over her stomach crawling with guilt, but only for a brief moment. Snooping? Now that's something little Miss Louise was accustomed to. Gifting Lyndis with a charming smile, she said, "That sounds perfect. Here, on behalf of your kindness."

Plucking up a strong stem, she twirled the unharmed, bright yellow tulip between her fingertips. "My name is," a minor hesitation. Another spectacular talent of hers was thinking on her toes. Did she want to add this stranger onto the expanding list of those she's taken advantage of? Lyndis would be fascinating. She seemed vulnerable but obviously clever.

And she did dress herself well in addition to carrying herself with such poise for a young... how old was she anyway? So much to discover! Two vacant seconds slipped from her lips.

"Monroe."

[l y n d i s]

Has Lyndis given her name prior? She couldn’t quite recall in this moment. But this pretty little things name was Monroe. Strange, to be certain, and somehow shockingly fitting. A slight androgynous, as this girl seemed to be working oh so hard for. Lyndis still was a slight uncertain as to why.

There was little benefit to being a man in this day and age. Most worked unbelievably hard. And others were responsible for things which blame should be placed elsewhere. The ruler of the kingdom of Elysia was a woman, for heaven’s sake! Truly, if there was a time and place to be a woman it was here, and now. Men and women were near-equals in this day and age.

Still, was young Lyndis truly any different than Monroe? She didn’t dress as some ragamuffin of a lad, though she did perform a man’s job. Traditionally women were not allowed upon ships. It was said to be bad luck. Though Lyndis had been raised as some sort of boy by her father’s hand, and brought on that boat before she could even remember, well, anything, to be quite honest! And Lyndis certainly wouldn’t have it any other way. She loved the warm kiss of a midday sun upon her shoulders and cheekbones, and the brisk taste of salt upon the tip of her tongue. Even that thin film of such upon nigh all her belongings. It’s what she knew best, and it’s absolutely comforting.

Idly Lyn wonders whether or not this young woman had been raised in such a manner. It was a strange sort of concept in Lyndis’ opinion, then again the young woman had come from a small and simplistic sort of town where such concepts were considered strange, and none too discreetly were these opinions had!

Her fingertips ruffle briefly through her hair before a small hand sweeps downwards to grip upon the young woman’s elbow in a gentle sort of manner, “Well, then, what are we waiting for?” Lyndis questions with another of those broad grins. Oh, she’s absolutely giddy to say the least of her, and it’s almost painfully obvious in these passing moments.

But there was one problem, where were they to start?

[Monroe Louise]

It was very unlike Monroe to be behaving this way. Afterall, you must remember her arm was full with a bundle of flowers intended to be sold that afternoon in a very precise spot. However, she never enjoyed following plans and meeting this young girl certainly was not in her agenda for today. So, perhaps, it was best that she was straying away from her tactics for the remainder of the day. Spending time with Lyndis nearly promised much more interesting things to come.

The boots Monroe was wearing were a couple sizes too big. It was obvious; the way she dragged them unintentionally along the grimy street. This time, the other girl's touch only triggered mild shivers that were easier for her to ignore. "Where are we going to poke around first? I do not have too much money to squander," she stated while her olive green eyes soar their surroundings.

There were plenty of options and Halite was full of activity and enthusiasm. It was one of Monroe's favorite places to be. Not only because of the obvious energy, but the smell was always refreshing. Dissimilar from Lyndis, Monroe did not spend a great deal of time at sea, though its majesty never failed to overwhelm her. She inhaled the salty air, eyeing the fishermen by the docks. Their thick-skinned hands tossed and turned fishes of all different shapes and sizes; the scales still gleaming from the sea as the critters heaved first and lasts breaths of air.

Her arm slouched under the weight of the collection of blossoms. Part of her just wanted to drop them onto the ground but she worked too hard for them to do such a thing. She was being honest when she mentioned she did not have much money on her. The handful of coins swayed in her pocket, each time hitting her side. Gripping the jacket tighter to her hourglass body, she remembered James. She named this jacket after him because it belonged to that man. She had robbed it from his coatrack, along with a few other of his possessions, as she crept out his backdoor. It is not as if Monroe enjoyed leaving him tousled in the bedroom sheets, hearing his hoarse snores even outside his home. But if she did not enjoy it then why?

Her ears grew hotter, inhaling James’ fragrance on the inside of the collar. If there is one thing she still has, and will always, it’s her memories. Which, is unfortunate, considering the bad overpowers the good. Clearing her throat softly, she tried to prevent other reminiscences from invading her head. “I could use a new jacket.”

[l y n d i s]

Where were the two of them to poke around? In all truth Lyndis had no clues. More often than not she started out in that central square - near that clock tower-like centerpiece - a short cry from where they were now, near the obnoxiously loud Square of Thalasa, buzzing and brimming with life and all things exciting. Heaven knew there was trouble brewing in these alleyways.

“Well, if memory serves me right I’m pretty sure there’s something to do around here!” Lyndis proposes. Those tiny hands of hers settling upon the swell of her hips, golden eyes alight with mild amusement. Yeah, there was a lot to do, but that may be the problem, the two of them were simply having troubles with deciding what the two of them were to do, it would be made so much simpler if all they had to their name was a stick or something equally similar. But it seemed instead, they were simply overwhelmed with no idea as to where to start.

But things seemed to be taking a quick turn - she needed a new jacket, and still, the small girl couldn’t help but thumb at the fabric of the young woman’s coat. In all truth the jacket itself seemed fine to her. The fabric was good and thick, and she saw no visible blemishes. Still, it wasn’t her jacket. Maybe it was something else entirely - perhaps that coat belonged to her dead mother, or something else equally traumatic. Still, it was Monroe’s choice, and not Lyndis’ own.

“Well, I’m sure you could get a fine deal, were you willing to trade in that jacket,” Miss Matthias reasons. It was the best she had to offer up in this moment - the girl had even said she’d little money to waste, and Lyndis was much the same.

“Let’s!” she coos thereafter, a single tiny hand slipping into the young woman’s own to tug her along. Lyndis truly had no clue as to whether or not there was a vendor with such a stand about, but if Miss Matthias knew anything of street vendors, and she did know a thing or two, they were willing to sell almost anything to get a fair bit of cash within her pockets, and that included the coat off their very own backs.