Fera's Rest (ye olde generic fantasy tavern // open )

The work done, Aras takes a moment, straightening carefully. He doesn't look back to the other, glitching guest - that previous, if unintentional, eye contact was already too much a confrontation - but instead gives an eye over the woman. Now that she's sitting here, the wounds are obvious. Perhaps not life-threatening, but still something worth attending to. "I'll see what we have by way of medical aid." Aras pauses, noting that the bartender still isn't in the room…and if he runs into the man, it might take him a moment to update him on everything, not to mention to gather his fee. The grey eyes look back to the woman. "…It might take a moment."

A few long-legged strides take him swiftly across the room and to one of the doors leading into the back area. The tall frame ducks inside…

…and almost immediately, the bartender circles out from the other door, re-entering the scene. (Avoiding the tinkerer, of course.)

((No worries! These things happen. Welcome back!))

((I'm about to hit the sack, but…feel free to carry on with other posts, everyone, and I'll answer or loop back in as I'm able tomorrow. Have a good night!))

Mendax placed their other hand over the glitching one, trying to stop the movement of the glitches so at least they wouldn't move. They still looked forward, not glancing down at their hands to see if the glitching really did stop, they could figure that out later. Now, in this moment, he wanted to study these people, see what life is like and how one can get injured in this time period.

…Luckily for him, the back room of the tavern was empty. Closing the door behind him, Aras leaned back against it - the door a shield, a barrier, a method to feel if someone was going to barge in - and shut his eyes. A series of counts - four in, four held, four out, four held, a string of breath timed and repeated - as he took a moment to himself to breathe. Okay. Okay.

He knew someone was injured, sure, and someone else was…not holding together too well? He wasn't entirely sure what it was, yet, but he didn't like how the strings felt… but Aras also knew that falling into old habits wasn't going to help the situation either. Fingers splayed against the door behind him, Aras reassessed: this was a messier situation than he signed on for, but he could handle this. She was wounded but it wasn't dire. He had a medical pack this time, and that could make things different. Even if the situation escalated, it wasn't his fault. Okay.

Okay.

His heartbeat steadied, and now that he wasn't surrounded by people or the infinite fractal of possibilities they presented, it was a little easier to feel the Weave of the situation. He didn't immediately feel the thickened weight of any strings to suggest that the woman had been followed, so the danger - at least of escalation in her regard - seemed minimal. Aras tamped down the urge to prepare, all the same; this wasn't the battlefield, this was a tavern, the worst was maybe a light tussle between patrons or not getting paid, there was no need to bind a Skein. There were some unusual vibrations in the weave here, but they were unclear…and seemed relatively passive for now. No need to bind a Skein. Okay.

The grey eyes slid open, blinking a few times as he steadied himself again, and went to the cabinets of the tavern, retrieving the few medical supplies he'd seen earlier. Not a lot, but with a little bit of weaving on his part, they'd be enough.

Arms full, he nudged the other door open with his foot, stepping back out into the room again.

((More about Aras' Weaving techniques and terminology can be found here: Weaving ))

Despite his calming routine, Aras couldn't (and wouldn't have wanted to) break old habits: coming through, his gaze swept to take in the room and its occupants, accounting for (and assessing) everyone as best he could. His eyes finally settled on the most immediate in proximity, the smallish creature at the bar. A mild surprise that manifested as a simple blink - gnoblii, here? - before being moved aside. After all, they'd let a Weaver come through. When you compared that to the relative harmlessness of a single Gnoblin, why not?

Aras grunted - a greeting? Or merely the effort of juggling the objects in his arms? - and glanced over to see the other door swing shut. The barkeep, no doubt, disappearing again to avoid the confrontation of paying the tinkerer for the work he'd already done. The grey eyes rolled before he glanced back at the creature, and then looked pointedly at the armful of medical supplies he was carrying. "Might be a moment." If the creature made enough of a fuss, the barkeep might return…or the creature might be patient enough to wait for Aras to return from delivering the supplies, and Aras might be able to wheedle a few extra gilg for the work of tending to the patrons. Remains to be seen, but either way, was it his problem? No.

Mendax frowned, finally looking down at their hands. The hands were still glitching, it seemed all their hands were good for was glitching. Probably, this body is weird. This whole world is weird. They thought as they pulled a small notebook-looking item out of a bag tied to their belt. They set the notebook on the table and flicked their wrist in a small motion, the glitch appearing as Mendax reached into one and pulled out a small pen-like item out of it. "P-p-presence… Weird…" They trailed off as they wrote something in the notebook with the item they had glitched into their hand.

There it was again: a twitch, the same sudden tug as someone pulling a hair off the back of your neck. Aras frowned, a granite chip to the side as he snuck a glance at the figure in the far corner. He wasn't close enough to see any specifics, not in this light, but there was most definitely an odd vibration in the weave there. It felt like, like someone had, had layered something in….but it wasn't the usual shape that something buried would give off.

The frown held steady, and Aras set the pile of supplies on the table before the woman. "Should do you." He paused, the next statement - "Let me know if you need more" - distracted, his gaze already focused back on the far corner. He was staring again, whether he'd realized it or not, and the light caught the last bright edges of the deepening frown in that gaze. Something was off.

"Per-p-peculiar." They stuttered to themselves as they glitched the pen back into the bag along with the notebook, they would continue the observation with their eyes instead of writing it down.

No, there was definitely a vibration now. The narrow head tilted a bit to the side, the long dark braid slipping off one shoulder to swing lightly against his back. Aras stared, the others momentarily forgotten (at least, until someone would do something to snag his attention, that is). Next to his sides, his hands twitched as well, the fingers moving ever so slightly as he felt out the threads that led to where the weight of the vibration sat, heavy, like a ball pulling at the fabric of a bedsheet.

The head tilted further; the gaze, at this point, wasn't so much a direct stare as one that had gone inward. Aras wasn't seeing much in terms of the surface of things, but rather, was focused on the entirely conceptual existence of the weaving ahead. His fingers moved again, rubbing the threads between his fingers in a thoughtful way, the action causing a slight tug against the resonance. For someone attuned to such things, it might feel a little like wind against the hairs on the back of one's arm, or the feeling of a bit of clothing caught on the rough wooden seats: mostly harmless, but distracting.

He wasn't satisfied with the answer (as in, still no definite idea of what was exactly going on with the figure in the corner), but Aras was suddenly acutely aware that he'd been staring. Typically not a good behavior in a bar, where a fight was usually just a pint or two away. Especially not a great behavior if you happened to be a Weaver, unwelcome in the best of situations. The frown wiped itself from his face, restoring his expression back to its dry blankness, and he snapt on a heel, turning away.

On his way back to the bar, he lifted a chin at the woman, the motion a silent question to her wellbeing. He'd left her enough random things - if this was any kind of a good stock, then surely one of those bottles was some kind of Aspir elixir, and he'd noticed at least a number of Edni bandages, their sticky insides designed to stop the bleeding - and figured she'd speak up if something more were amiss or necessary.

A look beyond her proved that the barkeep still wasn't back, and Aras huffed a breath out through the narrow, hooked nose. Well, what gilg came he'd take, until the man showed up. Slipping back behind the counter, the nimble copper fingers worked the buckles of his tool belt, working to relieve himself of the weight of it for now. A glint of grey eye towards the Gnoblin. "What have you tonight, Gnoblii?"

Mendax hadn't full body glitched in a while… Their suspicions were raised to the fullest. There it is. They muttered, feeling the tingling sensation that meant their body was about to glitch. Just as Mendax thought this, their body glitched through the chair and they landed on the floor with a smack.

The loud thump, accompanied by the simultaneous and invisible jangling of the Weave, snapped his attention back to the figure. There'd been a moment - just a brief one - where everything had seemed in the right place, as it should be (and that, in itself, was jarring enough, and Aras realized how off things had felt since the stranger had made their way in), and now it was back, even more taut than before.

Aras shot a glance at the gnoblin before frowning again across at the other figure now on the floor. "Are you…" (what does one say in this moment? Are you off? Are you of this world? Are you dangerous? Hn. Not a lot of options, perhaps) "…okay?"

Mendax brushed themselves off, prepared to lie and be like their namesake. They did choose this name for it's meaning. "I am completely f-f-ine. No n-n-need to worry." They said, lying through their slightly pointed teeth.

"Yuhhuh. Suuure." Aras gave a sidelong glance at the Gnoblin again, the look clearly one of disbelief, and then looked back at the figure. "Oh, I'm not worried," Aras clarified, the narrow lips jutting to one side in a sympathetic line. "But…you might should be. Folks who…fall…" - (or do whatever it was you just did, the meaning was clear) - "…tend to attract attention."

It was the most he'd said all evening, but he'd meant it in a kind way, at least. If the place got much busier, someone was bound to notice who was a little less tolerating than Aras.

"Ah, fudge nuggets. I-I suppose I mus-s-t take my-m-my leave." Mendax said, standing up with a smile. "Th-thanks for the hos-hospitality!" They exclaimed cheerfully, glitching to the side of the man. If I'm getting kicked out, I might as well be dramatic.

The narrow lips peeled back in a hiss - an actual, animalistic hiss - displaying a line of teeth equally pointed. Aras couldn't help it (wouldn't have wanted to help it, an old voice noted): the lines of his tall frame went tense. Though he didn't jump back, the position of his feet shifted, knees loose, posture dropping in the moment of surprise to its old habitual defensive, the body's angle a more difficult target now. Fingers moved at his sides, pulling at the strings around him to thicken the air between them. If the man moved suddenly or attempted a blow, he'd find himself having to pass through space suddenly gone sticky and sluggish.

The lips made an effort to draw back to their normally composed line, and Aras leaned in just the barest of a touch, his voice the low hiss now. "Take it from one undesirable to another: people around these parts don't like those of us who pass through that are different. I'm trying to save you an unwelcome experience." He drew back, still obviously unsettled, frowning at the other. Shows what you get from trying to help someone, they just get all up in your face for it.

"L-Life is an unwelcome experience, yet we still live it." They said again. "By the way, I don't move through space, I glitch." Mendax continued, for once grateful for their glitch. AWAY, GET AWAY, GET AWAY, AWAY, AWAY YOU IDIOT! Their mind screamed, they teleported into the outside elements, Mendax's arm caught in the wall. "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!" Mendax yelled, trying to tug their arm out of the wall. It didn't hurt, Mendax's arm was just numb.

(Do I enjoy making my character look like asses and then try and make them have a redemption ark? Hell yes.)

Well, he couldn't argue that one.

And just in case this was about to become one of those experiences, Aras' hand clenched. To the outside, it might look simply like he was preparing to throw a punch; what was actually happening though, was the wound knot of a skein preparing. If this thing moved in such a way - passing through the fabric of spacetime like an unthreaded needle - then the easiest solution seemed to be use that recent skein of thickened, compressed spacetime to tie them down. If the figure seemed like they were going to come at him, Aras was going to bind them so firmly with the strings of the present that they would need a safeword to get out.

But, the next 'glitching' didn't go that way. The figure was gone - the weight of it blessedly removed - and then back again, the weight felt farther away along the Weave. Faintly Aras could hear them screaming.

The lips drew in a line. It didn't sound good.
But then, Aras had already tried to help once, and see where that had gone….

(Hey, I was away all day, let’s just say my character fell asleep for convience’s sake). Mellia awoke to see the medical supplies laid before her. She gratefully took the bandages, covering the gashes on her arm and stomach. Her short rest had took the worst of exhaustion off her, both magical and physical.

"Of-of all the times you dec-decide not to work… It had to be the on-one time I needed you too!" Mendax muttered to themselves, getting everything but their arm to glitch. If I have to cut my arm off again! I swear! I hate this body so much! Why did Jasper convince me to get this time period and body? They thought with a glare directed at their scared arm.

((No worries! As mentioned, we'll make it all work))

Of course he'd notice the gnoblii. For one, they weren't a common sight, if not in these parts then at least not to Aras. Two, this one didn't act like one on the warpath: a lone gnoblin was usually an outsider or an advance scout, and in Aras' experience, scouts tended not to be so…hn, obvious. "You're welcome…Snagar?" He tested out the unfamiliar taste of the creatures name, pointedly turning his back on the commotion still coming from outside (and though the Weave jangled, the source of the odd weight didn't move, which for the moment was fine by him. He'd been none too pleased with his interactions thus far.). The motion turned him away from the window, and so he didn't see any legs, just the change in Snagnar's body language.

"Did you…" a pause, catching the odd expression on the creature's face, and Aras shifted his weight, an unconscious echo of the gnoblin's discomfort, "…hn, want to order anything?"

The movement in the middle of the room shifted the granite gaze for a moment; the woman was awake again, which was good. Aras looked to her, the copper curve of chin inclining again in silent question. Whether that question was are you okay or did you also want to order something was up to debate. Aras really wasn't a man of many words, it seemed.

((By the by, Aras doesn't hate Mendax or anything…he's just prone to staying away from potential trouble unless he's asked or given a really good reason to get involved. That redemption arc you'd mentioned will go wonders to soothing a fussy Weaver))

(I'm not worried! Mendax is usually like that, but Jasper (Cough thier boyfriend cough) Is trying to get Mendax to be more out of their shell)