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Two of ilk they became fast friends. Comrades.
It was Stefan he hooked up with when he set out on his own, both
dissatisfied with being a noble's son. Both wanting to
experience life without restrictions. Doing it their way.
-sampling of their rapport
taking from live play-
Artani had a coin
between his fingers. One pilfered when he passed through the crowd to join
his comrade. Bronze gaze was like melted gold much as the coin now tapping
in a dull sound against the table top. He was eyeing a lass, one that
would present a challenge for his friend. He did brag did he not? Of
course Stefan bragged a lot and probably could back most of it up. Lass
was fetching too but walled between two very large men that looked like
they could hold their own. Really, the question was more how much a madman
his friend was.
"Be right
back." The tankard found the table and Stefan stood, slapping a
palm to Art's shoulder as he passed. What Art considered bragging
was the mere fact that Stefan rarely slept in the same place...thrice.
Luciano didn't have to say a word, at most times didn't. That grin
of his would tell it all. He eased through the crowd, to the bar,
and there he gained the tender's attention with a lift of hand. A
few words were shared with the woman, coins exchanged, and he nodded as it
seemed she repeated his request for clarity. He knocked his knuckles
to the wood, a show of a job well done on the tender's part, then weave
his way back to the table. Little miss Bookworm would not need count
the number of shots she added to her coffee. At least, not for some
time. Courtesy of Romany ... a friend...of a friend.
Boot clad feet pushed
against the seat they were propped on, shoving it away as he was up like a
spring to uncoil. Stretch of limb and coin tucked away into a small pocket
of the vest worn over a plain shirt.
"Na may kharunde
kai chi khal tut" This statement for the standing Art as Stefan
returned to the table. "Do you prepare to leave? Or just
stretching your bones?" Stefan had no such need, he just
collected his tankard and lowered again to his chair.
Fair was fair, he
plucked the coin back out to toss onto the table as Stefan
returned. Words came low in a dare as he leaned with the flat of his palms
against the wood angling his body over it towards his friend. Only a
glance given over his shoulder would indicate the one he'd chosen if
Stefan was game. The coin his if he succeeded.
A dip of head toward the
hearthdweller before Stefan leaned back in the chair, front legs lifting
from the floor boards as he looked in the direction indicated.
Tempting wager. Definitely tempting. But, rather tame, was it
not?
Fine looking woman too
and well noted before that bronze glance would drive further past to
the one now with unlimited shots for her coffee. Soon she would not see
the words on the pages of her book.
Perhaps, her oblivion
was the goal. Or, perhaps Stefan was just kind. Those who knew
Stefan, knew which. The chair dropped back down to the wooden planks
and he chuckled, squinting an eye up at his comrade who loomed over him.
The brace of his palms
shifted as he pushed back up and then down into his seat again. Tankard
taken up as the intensity of eyes would turned back to the one in dare
upon his friend.
"The oyster between
the reefs?" To pluck it free without losing limb or life...very
interesting. And then, would a pearl even be within? Stefan was a
gambling man and, any man who knew a good wager knew when the odds were
strongly against him. He stroked his chin, watching for now as the
woman cavorted between the masculine mountains.
"Lowe k-o vast,
bori k-o grast." Letting out a good laugh in that taunt of words
hoping to add that spark to rile. Feet were once more kicked up on that
empty chair seat as he leaned back comfortably. Hooded gaze now would
remain on the woman between the mountains. Of course he could play all
kinds of ways with those very thoughts. All was up to his friend but then
there would be the devil to pay if he got a fat lip for it too. The
challenge was on like old times in those stuffy gentlemen schools,
too-wealthy parents sending their sons off so they could go on holiday.
"The man who
spawned you was a bastard and you a bastard son." But he was
chuckling under his breath, watching, even as the one man turned a gaze in
their direction. Stefan leaned forward, pressing the tip of his
middle finger on the coin, and sliding it back in Art's direction.
"I've no stomach for losing my guts this night, Comrade."
Stefan was not fool enough to believe if he stepped in the woman's
direction, those two Goliaths wouldn't gladly have him doubled over from a
fisted gut shot, if not worse. No. Even that well plucked coin
wasn't worth that.
"That's exactly why
we get along so well." Turning that bronze glance to his friend as
the tankard was braced against his thigh. Chuckle came to mingle as
he didn't take the turning down of the dare as him being chicken but
rather smarts on his comrade's part. But ... the devil would dare.
"Aye, it was my
father who took your mother ..." He muttered low, just for Art,
and brought up his tankard again.
"That's because my
mother was better in bed than yours." So he could give it back too as
a grin finally spread. The coin plucked back from the table and tucked
away into the vest pocket.
Stefan laughed out loud,
nearly choking on the swallow of ale that barely made it down in time.
"Remind me again why I tolerate your company when traveling?"
"Because I am of
the few that can challenge your wit as well you challenge mine." He
lifted his tankard in salute before drinking down a goodly amount.
"Ah..."
He nodded, enlightened by the looks of it, though that smile never
wavered. "And here I thought it had something to do with
camaraderie. Good that you clarified that for me again."
His own tankard's brim tipped toward Artani in a form of returned toast.
"That's somewhere
under the heap of everything else." Sliding a glance barwise then
over to follow the one before it lifted away and back to his friend.
It was in the
lands of Heathfield, Art finally met his match in a lass. One he
couldn't get to bed though he tired. Oh, she responded but there
was something else about her that plagued him when he left the
lands in traveling back home with Stefan. Though he had not
visited his family, avoided them like the plague. Far as they knew
he was probably dead. Haunted by dreams of a lake and Sarah in his
arms, daddy's little girl as he'd moniker her, he was driven back
to find out. Though it was risky for the size and temperment of
her Father, some thing were worth pursuing even dying for.
He waylaid her
one sunny day while she walked through a field. For the first time
in so long he couldn't remember, he was open and honest with her
instead of charming, smooth words that held nothing more than the
breath it took to form them. The draw was real, not one sided and
Artani's ways of a wandering nomad changed that day. He set to
courting Sarah with the approval of her father. Took on a job at
their ranch where another cattleman was always welcome.
*Picture used are to represent how
Artani would look only.
No Claims Made*
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