Smile, It Confuses People

[jahz]

OKay here we go! First time RPing humans.. oh and Open!

Jahz gazed around hastily, her eyes watching the woods silently, her hand pressing to the rusty coloured leaves Dragon stamped his hoof impatiently Jahz hissed for him to shut it, but then knew she had been waiting for ages. Nothing had come along, sighing she climbed to her feet and stalked slowly through the crunching leaves, her golden hair floating around her eyes as she un-tied his reins from an over hanging tree. Jahz’s hands fumbles slightly as she hooked them over his silver neck, sliding onto his back she flipped her locks along behind her, Jahz’s skin rushed when a slight breeze wafted slowly over and through the woods, damn rain she thought slowly.

Dragon picked his way slowly through the thin line of trees that surrounded the small forest, pulling her hood up over her head when her horse walked past some men standing at the edge of the road, when she was a comfortable distance away Jahz let her grip drop slightly on her reins and watched the road ahead, the distant sound of Dragons hoofs faded from her hearing, his neck was arched and he watched around the path and chattered away with every pounding step. Jahz hadn’t slept in what felt like ages, it was because no where seemed safe enough for her, Jahz let her hand slip up to her head to wipe away the falling drops of rain that spluttered and rolled off her coat, grumbling she wondered if the stupid rain was following her, maybe a little rain cloud floating above her head.

Dragon soon began walking along a stone path, Jahz look up, casting her blue eyes over the surroundings, she noticed a town and remembered the men say something about Knighton, well this would be interesting. Clicking her rasp tongue she edged Dragon on and the rain started to lighten, Jahz kept a weary eye on the town, it didn’t flood with people. So that was a plus, she road to the outsides of the crowds, keeping her head low, but watching the road ahead of herself. Jahz steered Dragon onto the road that said stable, she knew she would find someone to talk to over there, maybe even get a job?

Her steady hand guided her gelding along the bricked road, she rode in front of the stable, dismounting she felt pain sprout through her, she hadn’t ridden like that in a long time, loosening Dragons girth slightly she patted his firm neck, running her hand over his muzzle she lifted the reins over his head, she glanced around, pulling her hood back over her head, well at least the rain had stopped.

[zafirahibnlahad]

Keeping the white mare to a slow trot was becoming increasingly difficult. Zafirah hissed, pulling slightly on the reins to keep the agitated mare steady. No wonder she’d been given to Zafirah for free, plus four months in a boat had done no favours to her temperament. At least tousling with the mare was keeping her warm.
Still struggling, Zafirah pulled the thick fur coat around her tighter against the rain. Already she was missing the arid deserts of the Holy Land, here it was absolutely freezing and always wet.
In the end the girl gave up and let the Akhal-Teke mare let loose for awhile. Instantly Baraka was tearing down the road working off her nervous energy.

Soon Zafirah’s destination loomed ahead, the village of Knighton. Now she had to work extra hard to pull the horse up. After much snorting and cursing in Arabic the mare slowed enough to allow Zafirah to dismount. Leading Baraka, she made her way to what she assumed was the village’s marketplace. Now that Zafirah was walking exhaustion had finally caught up with the assassin. Before anything she needed to find somewhere to rest.
“Excuse me sir,” she approached the nearest stall, trying desperately to disguise her voice and hide her face; “I’m looking for somewhere to stay the night.”
The man looked up from his work but upon hearing the accent and seeing, what he thought was the man’s skin he quickly dropped his gaze. Zafirah heard him mutter something profane under his breath as she turned to leave. Behind her the merchant got up and began to whisper something to the man next to him.
Damn, this was so much easier back home.

Out of habit she began to run her thumb over the stump where her ring finger once was as she walked quickly away from the stalls. She knew the men were following her, ready to be patriots for their country and probably kill the Saracen invader. Zafirah dropped Baraka’s reins and lost herself in the crowded marketplace. She wasn’t worried about losing the horse. Thanks to the Akhal-Teke’s temperament they bonded to mainly one person and she was probably the only one of her kind in the country. Zafirah would find her later.

She pushed deeper into the crowd, being careful not to bump into anyone of nobility. The last thing she needed was a confrontation of that magnitude. Already the rumours of a heathen Saracen in the village would be spreading.
“You there, halt!” a harsh voice cut across the market and instantly the crowd stopped. Still Zafirah kept walking.
“You, in the white robes, I said halt!” again the voice rang out and the crowd once again responded by surrounding Zafirah. Making sure to keep her head down, she turned to face the guard who was now approaching.
“This man has told me that you’re a Saracen spy. Do you know the punishment for that?” she could hear in the guard’s voice that he was smiling malevolently. Being careful not to look at the guard or the man, she took a deep breath and answered.
“Me? My child I am a man of God, fresh from preaching His word to heathen Arabs in the Holy Land,” Zafirah hoped against hope that her voice sounded deep and old enough to pass as a priest.

The guard considered the man’s words for a second before deciding to speak again.
“If you are indeed a priest, why is your skin hellishly dark?”
“My dear boy, being over there does something truly evil to one’s skin,” Zafirah answered again. Once again the guard stopped to consider the answer; clearly he did not like being beaten in a game of words.
“Ok old man,” he began again; “if you are truly a man of God what do you have to hide? Why are you hiding under that hood? Why won’t you look at me?”
“Because,” she began slowly, trying hard not to let her agitation show, “to be one with God is to be humble like His son. To acknowledge authority by not letting your eyes dirty their face” Now the guard knew he had been beaten; he grunted and swore before turning away.
“Very well but we’ll be watching you,” were his parting words, meant to threaten her, and then he started to grumble something that sounded like, “Barmy Holy Land lovin’ git.”

The crowd melted away but Zafirah didn’t move just yet. She silently thanked herself for leaving her sword tied to Baraka’s saddle and then went about the business of finding the horse. That wasn’t hard, the lazy thing was still where she’d been left but most of Zafirah’s gear wasn’t.
“Thieves,” she hissed before swearing in Arabic.
The assassin seemed to have luck on her side as her sword and money was still hidden underneath a secret layer of the leather saddle. Absolutely exhausted, Zafirah saw the sign of a stable above the bustling people.
She led Baraka inside, hoping no one was about. The girl removed the sopping wet cloak and collapsed onto the floor.

Baraka was oblivious to her rider’s exhaustion. She was too busy eating hay out of a nearby stall, much to the owner of that stall’s disgust.

((OOc: Haha Zafirah re-post since my solo effort was a flop XD ))

[jahz]

Jahz growled slightly and walked into the stable, dragging her horse along behind her, pushing the big doors open the warm barn sent welcomed her, her boots scraped old horse dung as Jahz slipped her hand up to her hood, flipping it back slightly, a open bow was showing the small cluster of a town. Rubbing her hand from where a blister was arising, Dragon automatically wandered over to search the feed bowl, snuffling around nosily, Jahz went over and loosened his girth, running over his wet body she took his saddle off and then his bridle, leaving the halter on. Blue eyes wandered around the stable a she gripped the saddle in her right hand, bridle handing over her shoulder, slinging it over the old wooden frame her hands ran over the small saddle rug, she has made it herself, though it was frayed and smelt like something dead she was sure it was doing what it was made to do, make the saddle protect the... loosing her train of thought when she saw a lady, she collapsed. Quickly stuffing her bridle on the angel of the stall she rushed out.


Leaning over the lady it was to her attention to look after her horse, but she saw she was just tired, picking up her coat she made a pillow for her and lifted her head slightly, hoping that she wasn’t invading her space, an excited squeal came from Dragons stall, rolling her eyes in her head, this is what he big manly gelding did every time he met someone, threw a temper tantrum. She rose, her joins cracking slightly Jahz wandered over and pushed his muzzle and gave him something to eat, he was probley hungry, she might have to raid the food compartment, was that illegal in this town? Kicking a perfectly round horse plop out of the way she fastened the rope around her belt, her coat was soaked but nothing else was harmed, she hoped.


Hanging her cloak over the saddle Jahz ran a hand through her blonde wave of hair, taking a withering glance back at the woman, pulling a cup out of her bag, hands running over the wood and she went to the well pulling water up, and scooping some drinking water into the cup. Walking back over she noticed that her male horse was stamping his hoof on the stall trying to get the mares attention, shaking her head at his failing attempts she walked over and sat the hard wood over next to her, of course she wasn’t going to push herself to far, she didn’t even know the person, maybe they liked sitting on the floor and… nope she guessed otherwise.


Sitting on the ground in front of Dragon’s stall she started to speak quietly to him, ti was a calming thing, she didn’t know why she did it but it always made sense when he didn’t say anything and listened, like he wanted to hear her troubles.

[zafirahibnlahad]

As soon as Zafirah landed on the floor she fell instantly asleep leaning up against a stable door. She had no idea she was beginning to drift sideways towards the floor.
Nightmares of the people she’d killed haunted her as they did every night. Subconsciously she shrugged them aside. Suddenly her nightmares took a different path, a previously unexplored direction.
Zafirah knelt in darkness, encircled. The men who surrounded her all wore armour with red crosses plastered on the front.
The Knights Templar.
Zafirah lashed out but the more she fought the more there seemed to be. Suddenly they were replaced with screaming and a fierce orange glow.

That was when Zafirah awoke. She felt the cold sweat running down her spine and became disorientated as she realised she was no longer upright. She pushed herself up off the ground, brushing the hay off as she stood. With a sharp intake of breath Zafirah realised that there was someone else in the stable. Swiftly she drew a small knife out of the side of her boot and silently crept up behind the girl.
“Who are you?” Zafirah hissed. She made it very clear that she had a knife in her hand and was in no mood to be tussled with. She eyed the heavy set stallion standing close by; it appeared that she wasn’t the only new arrival in town this day.

Baraka acknowledged the other horse with a faint snort before returning to another horse's dinner.

[conormccarthy]

Spending the afternoon out in the rain was not Conor's idea of fun. He doubted it was anybody's idea of fun. His boots squelched with each step, the lining and his socks sodden. His hair hung in limp curls, still damp from the onslaught of rain which had only recently stopped. His shirt clung to his torso making the stable-hand grouchy. To top off his bad mood, it appeared the younger stable-boys had skirted a few of their less savoury tasks and so Conor had been out stacking the dung-heap correctly in the rain.

Wielding his pitchfork, Conor picked up some more discarded droppings on his way to the stable before stepping gladly into the warmth of the livery barn. The sight that met his eyes was enough to make the mild-mannered man grit his teeth in frustration. One horse was roaming around the barn unattended, helping itself to other horses' hay, another horse was inside a stall that hadn't been rented and two women were accosting each other, one with a knife!

Setting the dropping-filled bucket to the cobbled floor of the barn just inside the door, the blond young man gripped his pitchfork in two hands and did something very out of character. "Oi!" He waved the pitchfork for emphasis, though he didn't exactly seem sure of how to threaten somebody. It was only the pitch fork that made him appear slightly less scared than he felt. "What're you doin' in my barn?" He added quite lamely and a lot quieter, his Irish accent heavy with the sudden realisation he'd just shouted at two female someones.

The one nearest, holding the knife looked to be a Saracen. That was the second he'd seen in as many days, and it didn't look as if it were the same one. The other girl with blond hair nearer the back of the barn was considerably less threatening, but was trespassing nonetheless and helping herself to the stables resources. He wished he was in earshot of the smithy, Arnold would know what to do with them.

[jahz]

Jahz felt her move, a knife? Well that’s friendly, slowly she climbed to her feet, looking at her blankly, she had no weapons, only the sword on the bottom of the floor, but seriously she didn’t feel the need to attack anyone, then a man came into the picture, her shoulders sagged slightly, as clogs turned in her mind as her hand raked down her side and she nodded slowly to him saying quietly so her and she could hear “Yes, I suppose we are intruding, but I was looking for accommodation in this barn, get much work around here?” She knew it was a bad time to be asking about the job but maybe it calmed her to babble a bit, then she saw he was looking to the knife, her hand grasp something in her pocket, a small pin, quickly Jahz closed her eyes and jabbed it into her hand wincing in her eyes slightly she lifted her hand out, showing him “She’s only trying to get this out” Blood dripped down her hand as the thick pin was digging into her palm, wow she could wedge it in hard, Holding her hand in the other she whipped it on her pants.

Jahz then realised they were all complete strangers, well you get that a lot when you are in someone else’s barn “Hi, I’m Jahz by the way... and that’s Dragon” She gestured to her horse in the stall, normally someone in her position wouldn’t introduce the animal but it was calming that he bit brute was introduced to the others. Then it struck her, searching for some words to say she stepped to the side and said a bit more loudly, finding her confidence “is this stall being used?” she hopped she sounded polite, she was trying to make a friendly conversation with two people who had dangerous weapons.

[zafirahibnlahad]

What? Another person had announced their presence, a man by the sound of it. Zafirah wheeled around and sure enough a blonde haired man stood in the doorway wielding a pitchfork. He seemed unsure as to what to do in this situation.
She thought about pinching the fork off him but shrugged it off, having him dead or alerting the authorities was the last thing she needed.

Zafirah relaxed a little, lowering the knife and re-sheathed it back in her boot. She studied the blonde girl for a moment. She seemed to be trying to be friendly even in the given circumstances. Even as Jahzmine introduced herself Zafirah remained silent.
She turned back to the man.
“Here,” she said, making no effort to hide her accent, “I hope this covers the stock my horse and I have used and a night’s board.” Zafirah flicked a few Saracen gold coins at the stable hand. He’d probably go tell the guards that the Saracen in town was staying in his stable but Zafirah was too agitated to care.

“Who I am is not important,” the assassin shrugged off Jahzmine’s question and smirked. She was still so exhausted and the nearby hay looked so comfortable.
All Zafirah wanted right now was some peace but maybe meeting a local would have its uses.
“On second thoughts it would be rude of me not to introduce myself. My name is Zafirah and that over there is my mare Baraka,” she bowed politely then followed Jahzmine’s lead on introducing her horse.

Next to Dragon Baraka was extremely odd looking. Zafirah was sure no one here would have seen an Akhal-Teke before.

[conormccarthy]

Th Saracen's coins landed near his feet, and Conor eyed them suspiciously. They were no English coin. Picking one up, he tested the metal with his teeth. Real gold. Gulping, he slipped the one into his pocket and left the rest on the floor. Gold was hard to come by, and unlike most people, Conor refused to overcharge. The coin would have to be melted down to be used at any rate. No self-respecting English peddler would take it and if a guard was to see the Saracen-marked coin, they would surely arrest him on the assumption he was harbouring fugitives and criminals.

The blond girl seemed to be injured, and Conor soon realised neither woman was threatening each other after all. Conor began to blush ferociously, taking on a colour any strawberry would be proud of. The situation suddenly seemed obscene. Threatening two women - albeit was a Saracen - was far out of Conor's character. It was far out of character by anyone's standards. Setting the pitchfork down in the corner with a clatter, prongs pointing downward, Conor mumbled something apologetic and scrambled to pick up the remaining gold coins on the floor and return them to the dark lady.

With such wealth, Conor thought she should at least be able to feed her mare. The thing was dismal in appearance, hardly worth of the name 'horse'. It was slim, mane-less and almost disgustingly weedy. He felt a pang of sympathy for the horse, and assuming his duties as stable-hand, he approached the queer beast to take it into its own stall. He paused before he got there, considering how to answer the blond girl. "It wasn't. If you want it, it'll cost. This is a livery." He mumbled, starting toward the rat-horse helping herself to the hay hanging inside another horses stall, being particularly careful to keep in its line of sight.

[jahz]

Jahz had to resist the argue to pull the pin from her hand, but that’s why she had the knife out to help her and she would only get the knife out if she couldn’t get it out herself. She knew her name now, taking notice of the beautiful creature, yes she was definitely a lot strange, compared to her sticky Dragon of a horse. A sheen of sweat layered around her forehead slightly, hoping that he would accept her word. Her shoulders sagged when he put the pitch fork down; well that was an eventful moment.

Slowly she nodded and let her non-injured hand grasp her pocket bag, selecting a round faded silver coloured coin and offered it over to him, a faint smile danced over her pale features as her hair floated from behind her back and over her shoulders.

Dragon perked his long silver ears, reaching his neck over to see the white mare, pushing on the wooden frame of the door; he didn’t see any other in habitats in this stable, but he had never seen another mare like this, he had seen long ears things but never small lanky ones.

[zafirahibnlahad]

Watching the other two eye off her horse was mildly amusing for Zafirah. She was surprised when the man returned all but one of her coins, most Europeans Zafirah encountered in Acre and Jerusalem would kill for the amount of gold she’d just given out. She nodded her head and took the coins back respectfully.

She sniggered as the stable hand moved to take the white mare into a stable.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” she said offhandedly, leaning against one of the stable doors.
She very much enjoyed knowing something the man didn’t.
The assassin gave of a sharp whistle and instantly the mare responded by walking to her side.
“Here let me put her away, it’s probably safer if I do,” Zafirah gave Baraka a small pat. She was a sweet horse, Zafirah would give her that, but she turned nasty around strangers.
She felt that she needed to explain this to the man to avoid him taking offence and thinking she did not trust him.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she sighed, “her breed has a tendency to be less than friendly to strangers.”

Indeed the white mare was eying Conor suspiciously as he made his way around the stable and sticking extremely close to Zafirah’s side.

“Before I put her way though,” Zafirah began, “I need to know which stables are free and, if it’s alright with you, whether I can stay here too. I will pay another gold coin if you want me to.”

[conormccarthy]

Conor was mildly surprised when the straggly mare turned briskly and trotted to her owner. The queer beast was well trained, then, if a little underfed. Eyeing the stranger with a mix of suspicion and respect, he eventually gave a nod of recompense and started toward an empty stall. He looked inside, and was glad that the floor had been laid with straw and the feeder filled with hay. Even the water trough had been topped up. At least the stable boys were doing some of their job.

The woman mentioned the need for a stall of her own, and that she'd pay extra for it. Conor caught himself from making a strangled noise, catching himself against the stall door. It wasn't that she wanted to use the stable as a bed -- that was fairly common for travellers -- but it was the offer of a second gold coin. Conor knew that the first coin would cover both expenses easily, and he already felt guilty about not offering change for that. But another gold coin? Arnold would give him a good whacking with a hot poker if he found out he'd turned don the first offer, so he better not find out about turning down the second. "Uh, no need." He recovered and patted his pocket where the gold coin sat oblivious to its value to the peasant, "This will cover it. We've no meals on offer, though." He added. The livery was equipped for horses only, and he Smith would unlikely want to cook for the Saracen woman. If it weren't for the gold coin, Conor was sure the blacksmith would drive out the foreign woman as soon as Conor got word to him of their 'guest'.

Opening the stall door, Conor gestured to it with a wave of his arm. "This one and the next are free for you and the mare." Conor took another critical look at the weird white horse and decided he'd offer some oats later. After all, the gold coin would cover it ten times over.

He turned then and crossed the barn to the blond white girl, taking the coin with thanks. This was the currency he was used to, and would be enough to board the horse for the night. Slipping the money into his pocket with the gold coin, Conor glanced at the pin in the girl hand and wondered how it had got there. "Do you need some help with that?" He asked, peering crucially at the wound. The pin looked clean enough, but a deep wound like that could fester.

[jahz]

Jahz watched as she lead her horse in, amazing that an animal would do that for its owner, Dragon came to her call but she was sure her horse liked her company, or hopped he did. Then he directed a question at her, taking her off guard she raised her blue eyes from the stall and nodded curtly offering her red hand to him, glancing downcast and saying “I got it in when I stuck my hand in m saddle bag, Zafirah was helping me get it out” It was like she was born to lie, it came out smooth, like she was recalling the whole thing by memory, but she didn’t intend on building this.. Acquaintance ship on lies, but she didn’t want to get to personal.

She cast a glance over to Zafirah watching her calmly, why would she attack her with a knife? She seemed friendly enough, nothing like she would want to kill people; maybe she hated the white people? Shaking it out of her head Jahz looked back to the man, he hadn’t yet spoken his name, well the two females had spoken, and she guessed he might be a shy one.

Jahz pressed her left hand on her right, trying to put pressure on it to stop the hole heap of blood coming from the gaping wound, well at least with was a clean cut, it should heal up in awhile, but she knew that her riding hand would be stiff and she was sure she would be complaining or a long time, and a scar to show for it.

[zafirahibnlahad]

Nodding her thanks to Conor, Zafirah gathered up her horse’s reins and led her inside her allocated stall. She thought about thanking God for Conor’s lack of questions but stopped herself, sure that an assassin was the last kind of person God wanted to hear from.

Brow furrowed deep in thought Zafirah began to remove Baraka’s tack much to the horse’s relief. Zafirah noticed the white mare’s uneasiness and began to whisper calming words in Arabic to her.
As the girl took off the saddle her hidden sword fell through the leather and onto the ground.
“Damn it,” she muttered, checking to see that no damage had been done to the Scimitar.
As Zafirah looked over it her fingers traced the small carving of an eagle in the hilt, the mark of her brotherhood.
Not that she would admit it but she was missing home.

Her attention was soon brought back to the present when voices wafted over the door. Swiftly she crept out of the stall to see if she was needed. The blonde girl, Jahzmine, was talking to Conor about a pin in her hand Zafirah knew nothing about. The assassin lent up against a nearby wall unnoticed, watching, listening.
As the other girl lied about the minor altercation beforehand Zafirah couldn’t help but let out a snort of amusement. She bit her lip to refrain from saying anything but wouldn’t lie if she was questioned about what she found entertaining.

((OOC: Sorry if it doesn't make sense, was typed up while on the verge of collapsing with exhaustion XD))

[conormccarthy]

Conor offered out his hand so he could inspect the wound, though the gloom of the barn was no place to be trying to get the thing out of such a delicate part of the anatomy. He'd have to take her out to the workshop where he had tools much more suited than knives for this task.

He accepted the lie with ease. Conor was not unintelligent, but he was easily duped when it came to lies. He had no reason to suspect that this hadn't been the case, and he gave a nod of understanding at the blond girl's statement. He heard the Saracen snort, and he attributed it to the amount of dust in the barn. Not a lot of people could tolerate it as well as he.

"I'll help." He told Jahz, "Follow me." He glanced over at the Saracen. He hadn't exactly invited her, and he would rater she stay in her stall out of sight, but he wasn't stopping her from following. She had been trying to help the girl, after all. She might care to see how Jahz would do while Conor extracted the pin.

He led the blond out of the barn, grateful that it wasn't still raining. The sky was dark and threatening, however, and he hastily crossed the space between the barn and the Smith's house come workshop. He opened a thick oak door to the side of the building and held it so the girl could enter.

[jahz]

Jahz followed after him, not checking if Zafirah was coming, she didn’t know her at all, well if you classify there meeting as a good friendship... they were inheritable, Jahz walked forward into the room, looking around, her blue eyes tracing the walls ad windows “Its pleasant” A smile tweaked her lips as she looked to him again, she was trying to start a conversation. Seeing a stool, Jahz sat down, looking about again, cradling her hand in her lap.

Looking to him again she spoke “How long have you lived here? Your whole life? Or are you a traveler??” cocking an eyebrow slightly, it would be interesting t grow up in a town like this, well anything would be better then her town, hers was full of stealers and thief’s, murders and you name it they lived there, well maybe not the king but you get where she was heading right?

Jahz took her eyes away from him and cast them down on the floor, she mist seem like an airhead (If that word hasn’t been invented yet… SORRY!) babbling on like this, one in two adults hardly said anything, well unless money was involed.