((OOC: I did a bit of god-moding here, just to get things started... If you want me to change anything, don't hesitate to PM me. I'll edit it right away.))

Finally, away from the Three Moons for the remainder of the afternoon and all of the evening... The innkeeper had even allowed her the time to take a bath before she went out and about in Maloren. Feeling as clean as a whistle, Oriana's hair shone in the light that was just begin to shadow with the fall of evening. Also able to wear one of her clean cotton dresses that had been tucked away into her wardrobe, Oriana surely felt like a queen (though she doubted that queens dressed in such clothes). I could be queen, a stupid part of her thought, though it could hardly be the truth. But her father had never been mean to her, and she couldn't see him playing a nasty trick on her, not like that. Her uncle Jerome might be able to, but Oriana's father was not like his eldest brother.

In any case, it wasn't like she had the money to travel up to Olencia from Maloren anyway. Suns and moons, her family couldn't even afford a sail on the new ship they would have to buy soon... She had been saving money, and occasionally, the innkeeper would grant her a free meal for her services, but things were tight. There were still younger mouths to feed, and Oriana wondered if they would ever sail again. She did miss the rock of the sea though, and the salty spray of air coming from the bow of the ship... In it's place though was her fear of storms. Only last week it had thundered during a particularly busy hour at the Three Moons, and she had gone weak in the knees. She'd actually had to stop serving because of it. It was ridiculous, however traumatic that storm had been, there was no reason for her to act so foolishly. Her grandmother would have knocked some sense into her. But she's dead.

She tried not to think of such solemn things. Chuckling to herself, she shook her head. Finally, she had time to herself and all she could do was sulk. Maloren was hardly the nicest of places to spend time, but it was home, at least. Perhaps the markets would be interesting. They usually were, what with the Calandae and Marlas people arguing and spitting between prices. Oriana's family had never taken a side in those arguments, as they had been and always would be of the sea. But times change... It couldn't be time for them to find their place among these arguments, however. She wouldn't let it be. Neith certainly wouldn't have let it happen... Things had been more than difficult with her grandmother gone, though. Even brothers couldn't get along.

As she walked along the streets of the markets, ignoring the snarls of rivaling bargainers and the shouts of people selling silks, she recognized many of the tenders and sellers and even lots of the buyers. To her annoyance there was Gorgan Baldabiew, the brother of the ship captain who had had her whipped when she was younger. As if in remembrance, she put a hand to her back, which had suddenly ached. She gave him a scowl, though he was busy peering at his newly bought sword with a grizzled sort of smirk. He was a bit younger than her father, but far more muscled and angry. Suddenly, however, his attention was turned to someone to his side. The person must have bumped into him or something... Bumping into someone was considered very rude in Maloren, simply because of all the pick-pockets and thieves, though the smart citizens of Maloren knew that pick-pockets and thieves were far more intelligent than to steal in broad daylight in the middle of markets from a man with a dagger. (But then again, Gorgan Baldabiew never did have the brains of a goat.)

The smirk turned into a very frightening glare, and Oriana looked to see the victim of his stare. It was a young man, whom Oriana guessed was not native to Maloren - he just didn't look viscious enough... He was tall, for certain, but as far as strength, Oriana would guess that he wouldn't be able to take Gorgan, who had been hauling ships since before Oriana was born. "Hey!" she snapped at Gorgan, who was making a threatening motion with his dagger.

Shem ran a hand through his brown hair, leaving it half sticking up in sweat-spiked disarray. He grimaced, lifted a sleeve to wipe the dampness from hair and forehead, and grimaced as every muscle in his arm and back protested with a warning, aching, vehemence. "Oh moons, tommorow isn't going to be fun..." he murmered to himself as he abandoned his quest to keep stinging sweat out of his eyes.

He'd spent the day hauling cargo, possibly blacksmith's anvils if he had to judge from the way he felt now. His boots were caked with a mixture of tar, sand, and unspeakable bilge muck and his palms were crossed with angry red rope burns from whenever a load had started to slip, forcing him to grab for it. Working the docks was hard, miserable, and the pay was enough to make a hardened docksman weep.

And the jibes of course, he reminded himself, the jibes had been a treat as well, almost as good as the anvils. He flexed his hands, raw where what had almost had a chance to be callouses had been worn away. Until he'd come to Maloren he'd considered himself to be among the taller, stronger group of men. The docksmen had laid that particular idea to rest moments after he'd set foot into their territory. Slim shouldered and freshed faced by comparison, he'd quickly become the favorite for jokes.

Oh yes, a day spent working on the docks was truly a day to enjoy.

He stretched again tentatively. There was a kink in his spine that he could almost pop if the poor, abused muscles in his shoulders would let him. He reached his arms out over his head...and right into the nose of one of the largest, meanest looking men he'd ever seen, including the dockmen. The enormous man snorted like a bull, then brandished a very shiny, very new, very sharp and businesslike looking dagger under his nose. Shem could almost smell the tang of fresh steel. Or was that the smell of his blood about to be spilled. Both options seemed equally likely and equally unappealing.

"Uh, sorry?" Shem tried.

The man grinned and slapped Shem on the back, rumbling there was no harm done. Pretty girls filled the square as the man proceeded to offer him a job that required sitting on cushions and and performing light arithmatic for a princely sum. Flowers bloomed in the gutters along the streets and small children with clean faces and bright clothing sang hyms about the stars and sun.

The bull like man growled again and moved the knife closer. Moons but reality wasn't any fun.

((OOC: Holy cow that second to the last paragraph totally made me laugh. ))

It seemed that Oriana's dealings with Gorgan Baldabiew were never pleasant. He came into the inn every once and awhile, but Oriana refused to serve him. Thankfully, he had never come at a time when it would have been necessary to serve him (when the innkeeper was watching her, for instance) because Oriana didn't think she could stand it. The man was just as sickening as his brother, both of them foolish brutes who thought that all the world amounted to nothing but muscle. Oriana had attempted to tell them such during her early teenage years, but apparently, they weren't even brilliant enough to take some intelligent conversation. It had ended with a whipping, and Oriana had scars on her back to show for it, and her father hadn't come out completely clean either. She supposed that she had learned better than to sass the captain of a ship now, but caution was never her strong point.

"Hey!" she shouted again, darting up to the brute as he moved his knife again. She might have tugged on his arm, as though a child would, to get him to pull his knife away, but Oriana would have been too easy to fling away. "He didn't mean any harm," she grumbled at him, crossing her arms as she stepped next to Grogan. Oh, the man could still do some damage, but some locals might give it a go as well if he hurt her. She was a girl after all, and even most Malorens weren't that malicious, to hurt innocent by-standing women. And she'd make sure he hurt her before he touched the other boy. She glanced at him for a moment, wondering why by the goddesses she was stopping to help him. Perhaps it was because she didn't like Grogan all that much and wanted to deprive him of the fun of it... He has pretty eyes, she found herself thinking randomly before turning her attention back to Grogan Baldabiew.

"He was takin' my coins," he growled back at her, his voice loud enough to make her feel it in her toes. She rolled her eyes at him, not impressed at all. Looking at the young man next to her, she judged that he was about her age or so, and she seriously doubted that he was from Maloren. He just didn't have that wary look about him that the rest of them did. And if Grogan even had eyes he could see that too. Idiot. "You just spent all your coins on that dagger," she retorted. And hopefully that was true. It must have been because Grogan didn't have a good reply to that. "Well..." he started to rumble.

So before he could say anything important, Oriana turned to the man next to her and tugged his elbow, pulling him away from Grogan Baldabiew and his dagger. Once they were a good block away, she glanced over her shoulder. Good, the brute hadn't followed them... Oriana looked at the man. She didn't think that he had been harmed, but who knew these days? "Are you all right?" she asked him. "You didn't really steal his money, did you?" Moons and stars, she hoped not. That would certainly be worse than a whipping for her, if she had helped a thief.

"I'm fine," Shem said absently. He was still half stunned by this gorgeous, firey haired woman who had just seized his elbow and dragged him away from the enormous lout. He'd set himself up for a good thrashing and a quick escape. Normally he might have hoped to talk things out, charm him out of being angry, but he would have had to reason to do that and the man hadn't looked liked the reasoning sort.

It wouldn't have been the first time he'd earned himself a good thrashing in Maloren. Spilling a little of his drink on someone's shoes, brushing against people in the street, even looking someone in the eye could easily get him into a fight and with him fights were usually thrashings. Occasionally, he could use his hieght to intimidate and occasionally they'd back off if he stepped forward and threw the first punch with confidence, but after than everything went downhill.

The girl was looking at him, head cocked slightly to one side in thought. Her grin eyes were inquisitive, tilting up at him as though she were waiting for something. He suddenly remembered the rest of her questions. "Oh!" he said, "No, no I'm no theif, just clumsy." He held out his hands to show her the rope burns that crossed them. "Honest working man, I promise."

Oriana was relieved when the man said, "I'm fine." Good. She hadn't thought he was hurt, after all. Her grandmother had been good with scrapes and burns and broken bones, but Oriana hadn't had much experience in that area. She wouldn't have been much help if the man was already bleeding to death... For awhile, the man before her seemed lost in his thoughts before he remembered that she had asked a second question. Absent-minded, are we? she wondered to herself, looking at him. "Oh!" he said, as though surprised. "No, no I'm no thief, just clumsy." She smiled, certain now that he was not from Maloren. His accent was different, certainly. He held his hands out to her to show her what looked to be burns from rope. "Honest working man, I promise."

She couldn't help but laugh at the stranger before her. He seemed good-natured enough, so she figured that he was telling the truth. "You can be a working man here and be the complete opposite of honest," she told him, shaking her head, though still smiling. Take for example her uncle. Uncle Jerome was probably a good man at heart, though he had never been kind-hearted to her, but every once and awhile the ale got to his blood. It could not be said either that Gorgan Baldabiew was lazy, but it would be a lie to call him "honest."

She figured it would be best to introduce herself. "I'm Oriana Lark of Maloren," she said, extending her hand for a handshake. It would have been odd to say "of Taran" though she knew now that was what she was. She was no lady, though. That was for certain. Gods, it can't be true, she found herself thinking. Father would never catch a princess anyway. She brought herself back to the moment by speaking again. "For future reference, Malorens are a bit distrusting of people who bump into them," she advised him.

((OOC: Kind of short, sorry. :P))

Oriana Lark of Maloren. She was a native to this wretched place then. That'd be why she'd been able to manuever him and his threatened nose out of the way of the burly man so quickly. He wouldn't have been at all suprised if it was something she did whenever the fancy struck her. He took the girl's cool hand and wrapped his fingers aroudn it before he shook it lightly. "Shem Adare of Ivria, my Lady." He said, releasing her slender hand and sending a teasing smile at her. "And no offense, but you Malorens seem to be distrusting of everyone. I can usually talk my way out of trouble but him back there, well, the ship was all rigged out but the crew wasn't there." He shook his head; there were just some people who it was impossible to reason with. "So is saving strays a hobby of yours?" he asked

Whoops, he was flirting. He hadn't meant to start but this was the first time in...moons how long had it been since somebody had even been so much as nice to him? The closest he'd gotten to frienship was the innkeeper's wife, a gray haired, solidly built woman who could almost be described as matronly...except when she was looming menecingly over some poor soul who was late on his rent, holding a painfull looking wooden ladle high about their heads and threatening to thwack their skulls in.

Or maybe that was matronly in Maloren.

Either way, kindhearted (and eager to feed him) as the innkeeper's wife might be, she was not a slim, red headed young girl with startilingly bright green eyes and a quick, bright smile that, at least to Shem, was infectious. He found he was grinning back at her, the aches and pains he'd picked up during the day momentarily pushed to the back of his mind by his discovery of someone in Maloren who he didn't have to worry about slugging him at any moment.

((OOC: I love Shem...))

The man shook her hand before introducing himself. "Shem Adare of Ivria, my Lady." She blinked at him, surprised that he'd called her "my Lady," simply because no one had ever done that before. Maloren was hardly a place for formalities, and she figured the only time a noble (who would demand such courtesies) ever had visited Maloren was when her mother had come to smooth out the rivalry and fighting. What a success that had been... Since that point, the nobles had pretty much left the Malorens to banter about on their own. No lord or lady in a pretty dress was going to subdue ages of rivalry in one city. "You're a long way from home," she commented.

He smiled at her and joked, "And no offense, but you Malorens seem to be distrusting of everyone. I can usually talk my way out of trouble but him back there, well, the ship was all rigged out but the crew wasn't there." She laughed at him (and his smile) and shook her head with him. "Gorgan doesn't talk, but he does hit," she replied. "So is saving strays a hobby of yours?" She smiled and shook her head. "No, you just got lucky," she answered. Oriana supposed that she had gotten lucky as well, lucky that Grogan hadn't decided to use that shiny new dagger of his. Saxen certainly wasn't anywhere nearby, and even if people on the street did get involved, it probably wouldn't have made much of a different for her. A swift slice to the neck would mean a trip to Valleran for her.

Nevertheless, Oriana supposed that everything had worked out all right, and Gorgan was nowhere to be seen, probably lumbering back to his ship and his brother. She bobbed on her feet for a moment, thankful that she didn't have anywhere she had to scurry off to. The man was pleasant company, for one.

Shem cocked his head at Oriana as she rocked on the balls of her feet in front of him, smiling. "Well thank goodness I am one of the lucky ones then." he said. He put a protective hand over his nose where Gorgon had held a knife to it. "My nose and I have gotten along so well for so long it would have been a pity to have to do without it, and I think that's what Gorgon the Easily Annoyed was planning on." He shifted on his own feet, which were beginning to protest to a day of working on the docks and standing afterwards.

His stomach was beginning to protest too. Working on the docks didn't generally leave one with much, or any, time for lunch and while Shem no longer felt as though he might be able to consume entire livestock at every meal his body was still never keen on missing meals. In fact, it was very adament about being fed regularily.

"I don't supposed you'd be interested in sitting down and having a meal with me and my nose?" he asked. "As partial payment for the favor you've done us both?"

He sure smiles a lot. "Well thank goodness I am one of the lucky ones then," replied Shem. He covered his nose with his hand, and his words following were a bit muffled. "My nose and I have gotten along so well for so long it would have been a pity to have to do without it, and I think that's what Gorgon the Easily Annoyed was planning on." She couldn't help but laugh at that either. The days had been rather dark since her grandmother had died and their ship was destroyed, and it was nice to laugh at something foolish for once. She decided that she liked Shem Adare of Ivria.

"I don't supposed you'd be interested in sitting down and having a meal with me and my nose?" he asked her. "As partial payment for the favor you've done us both?" That was surprising too - a thank you would have been fine with her. She wouldn't have ever expected any more. They were in Maloren, after all, where if someone saved a family from a burning building the family would claim their rescuer had lit the house on fire to steal their horses. But feeling her stomach growl, and looking at his smile, a meal would be hard to refuse. Oriana certainly got enough food to survive, but it wasn't as though that was a lot. Money was tight, and with children in the family to feed, it wasn't as important to make sure she was fed. She was done growing now, anyway. "I don't know about your nose," she teased him, grateful to accept his offer, "but I would enjoy dining with you." She certainly hoped that he had money to spare on her because she didn't want to put him in a situation like her own.

There was an inn nearby, with a decent common room. Shem walked with her that, though it was apparent that he was leading. Either he was familiar with the inn and it's food, or he was hungry enough to eat anything. The inn that they entered was a bit too far from the docks for Oriana to have ever eaten there in her younger years, and now, she earned her meals at the Three Moons or she did not eat. Meals elsewhere were pricy. She looked up at the sign, which had some lettering on it and a picture of a ship, but she had never learned to read, so she didn't know what it said exactly. She bit her lip as they entered, wondering if Shem could read. Unless one was a merchant or an innkeeper in Maloren, it wasn't really a necessary skill, she supposed. It wasn't as though books were common in the city.

"Welcome, welcome!" called a boisterous innkeeper from somewhere back in the inn, and even though it wasn't night fall yet, it was already loud in the common room. They found a table near the back and took their seats. Oriana watched with interest as a harpist plucked away merrily. A blonde-haired serving maid wandered over to them as time saw fit to ask them what they wanted to eat. Oriana waited for Shem to order first. She didn't want to be over zealous; so she simply asked for a water and the house's stew. Stews weren't expensive, but they were something to eat.

The Four Sails was a quiet, pleasent inn not too far away from where they are. Shem walked quickly, though he kept himself from stretching his legs out too much so Oriana could keep up with him. He chanced a few looks at her as they walked; she wasn't nearly as tall as him, or even tall by any standards but she moved gracefully and she was certainly able to weave through the crowds far more easily than he was.

A slightly plump blonde waitress who Shem might have met before nodded at them as they stepped in and the inkeeper greeted them jovially. Was her name Alice? He thought it might of been. Either way, the blonde who may have been Alice appeared shortly after they ensconsed themselves in a table at the back and asked them what they would be having today. Oriana hesistated for a few moments, then surprised him by asking for water and the house stew; the two cheapest things on the menu.

Shem slapped his palms down on the smooth worn driftwood of the table they were sitting at. "Are you trying to make it so that I'll never be out of your debt?" he asked good naturedly. "Most Malorens would have ordered the most they could get away with and then cracked me on the back of the head and stolen my purse when the meal was over, right?" he looked at the pretty blonde serving maid. She nodded. "So what've you got cooking back there that's decent?" he asked.

"Roast," the woman who he'd decided to call Alice anyways answered.

"Roast what?" Shem questioned suspiciously. In Maloren if you weren't careful about your ordering you were likely to get what you least expected. Horse had been the most memorable of these mishaps, but there'd been others too.

"Roast beef." Alice winked at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"All right then, Alice..."

"Aeris," she corrected

"Aeris, we'll have that and..." he turned to look at Ori, "Are you sure you want water to drink?"

"Are you trying to make it so that I'll never be out of your debt?" Shem asked her, and she blinked in surprise. "Most Malorens would have ordered the most they could get away with and then cracked me on the back of the head and stolen my purse when the meal was over, right?" Actually, she supposed that most Malorens wouldn't have helped him out in the first place, but she figured it would be more polite not to say that. So he went on ahead to order roast instead, which was kind of him. Oriana could already feel her stomach growling... She hadn't had a roast for several weeks. "Are you sure you want water to drink?" he asked her at the end. She would have been suspicious of his generousity had he not seemed so trustworthy. Oriana wondered if all northerners were like him. But again, she did not want to over-do it. "Water's fine," she told him.

The serving maid went off with their order. She turned her attention back to Shem as the woman left. "Where are you from?" she asked him. Thinking of how he had acted with Gorgan, she smiled, and added, "It's rather obvious that you're not from Maloren." Of course, it wasn't just that - his demeanor was different, his accent was different... She wondered how different she would have been if she had grown up in the north like her mother was from. If that really was from where her mother was from. Gods, it was so confusing. Things had been much simpler before Neith had passed away in the storm.

She waited for his response and briefly wondered how her father was. He helped crew some ships and did random odd jobs around the city, but she hadn't seen him for a few days. Oriana wasn't too worried about him - Saxen Sully could take care of himself - but he seemed sadder since the storm. Things were especially tough with his brothers. Jerome had been even more tense than usual, and even Evan wasn't as light-hearted as he had once been...

Oriana looked mildly surprised when he changed the order but thankfully not angry at him like a few of the girls back home might have been for questioning their judgement. He guessed he'd probably been right about her ordering stew because it was cheap instead of because she actually had a hankering for it. Stew was too common for most people to want to eat. It was easy, it was cheap, it was fairly good, but it wasn't something to crave. As for the water, he shrugged inwardly, maybe she just didn't want something else.

"So where are you from?" Oriana asked as Aerys who was not Alice finished with taking their order and went back towards the kitchens to shout it at the cook on duty, "It's rather obvious that you're not from Maloren." So he'd looked that out of place, eh? He could understand that without thinking about it too much. Most Malorens had a wary, suspicious look about them that he was fairly sure he lacked completely and was probably why the pickpockets seemed to like him so much. People in Ivria didn't worry much about pickpockets; the few there were tended to be grubby, incompetent children who you could spot a long way off. In Maloren he was beginning to feel that even the housewives might be out to steal his money and he'd even given up carrying much with him; it just got taken.

"Oh, I'm from Ivria, up north..." he started but then paused. The girl was still looking at him but she seemed a little distracted and, he looked at her a little more closely, maybe a little sad too. He reached out and tugged at the hem of her sleeve to get her attention. "Hey," he asked, frowning. "Are you all right? You looked...I don't know....a little sad."

"Oh, I'm from Ivria, up north..." Shem began to explain. Then he paused to tug the hem of her sleeve. Her thoughts must have shown on her face somewhat, for he asked, "Are you all right? You looked...I don't know....a little sad." She shook her head, not wanting to launch into her life's story after just meeting someone, though thankful for his concern. "I'm fine," she answered, giving a reassuring smile. "I was just thinking about something." Instead of going on about her own problems, she questioned him some more, trying to think of where Ivria was on a map.

In fact, Oriana couldn't remember the last time she had seen a map... They used them on the ships, and Oriana was decent with navigation. She couldn't read though, and normally, they went up the west coast of Olencia versus traveling all the way to Ivria. Oriana's family was not a river crew either, so she did not see much of the inlands. "How far away is Ivria?" she asked him. She thought that it was far to the north, but she couldn't remember where her uncle Evan had pointed to on the map for Ivria. It had been some time ago, for certain.

After getting his response, she blinked. "Why are you so far from home, then?" she asked him. Maloren certainly a place for a vacation. Then again, judging by the rope burns on his hands that he had shown her earlier, she figured he wasn't out for relaxation.

Oriana smiled and reassured him that she was fine. Shem stopped himself from raising his eyebrows at her just in time; it really wasn't any of his business if she didn't want to talk about it. Anyways, she seemed to be feeling a bit better now and began to set up a barrage of questions about where Ivria was, which Shem managed to field with as much accuracy as he could. He'd worked with maps a little before and he had a fairly good idea of where everything was. His fingers sketched out the basic shape of Olencia on the table and though it wasn't perfect at least he thought she got a general idea.

When he was done explaining about how far he'd traveled in the last few years she frowned at him over the table and blinked. "Why are you so far from home, then?" she questioned.

Shem shrugged. "Just kept going south," he said. "A few years ago my da and I got to talking and since I wasn't ready to settle down just yet and since the ma's in the village didn't seem like they were about to suddenly take a liking to me we decided it might be better if I had a few years to myself until I found somewhere I liked." Aerys returned to set two plates of steaming meat and vegetables down next to them. "Maloren's not the nicest place but there's always work."

"Just kept going south," Shem answered her question. He went on to explain. "A few years ago my da and I got to talking and since I wasn't ready to settle down just yet and since the ma's in the village didn't seem like they were about to suddenly take a liking to me we decided it might be better if I had a few years to myself until I found somewhere I liked." She smiled, trying to imagine that, and then wondering why the "ma's" didn't take a liking to him. He certainly seemed likeable enough. What about his own mother?

The serving maid returned with food, and the aromas drifted to her nose as she sent them on the table. Shem's mouth must not have been watering as much as hers was, for he added finally, "Maloren's not the nicest place but there's always work." She supposed that was true, at least for a young man without a wife or children to support. Her family was different. Now that Oriana was older, she was expceted to take a hand in helping out paying for the children, and it had gotten difficult without their ship.

She took a bite of the roast, savoring the taste for a moment before her stomach reminded her that it wasn't just her appetite that needed feeding. Once she had swallowed however, she asked him, "Didn't your mother want you to stay?" Oriana had never met her own mother, obviously, but she knew that Neith wouldn't want her gallavanting across the world. Not that it mattered much now. "Did your father stay in Ivria?"

"It was just me and my da. He stayed in Ivria" Shem said, as he began to eat his dinner. He was glad to see that Oriana was tucking in just as avidly as he was. It always made him feel awkward when girls picked at their dinners while he was busily eating. He didn't wolf his food like he used to when he was younger, but he'd worked all day and the food was fresh and expertly cooked.

He took another large bite, using the time it took him to chew and swallow to debate with himself. Should he tell him about his ma? It didn't bother him at all but would it be better not to bring it up? It hadn't brought him any friends in Ivria but then again, this was Maloren. Moons, there were criminals and prostitutes on every corner...

"Ma left when I was three." he said, swallowing another bite of roast and cutting a potato into smaller pieces with his fork. "She was a dancer in a troupe. She married Da, but she wasn't cut out for being a wife and ma." He shrugged and smiled at her. "Don't really remember her and never really missed her. Da and I got along fine."

She watched him eat as she ate her own food, the emptiness in her stomach going to be filled for the first time in a couple days. She listened to his explanation about his mother, surprised that their backgrounds were somewhat similar, though it was obvious that the two of them were quite different. She smiled back at him and explained her own side of the story. "My mother wasn't cut out for Maloren, either," she said, not adding the rest of that part of the story, the fact that she was niece to the High King. "But as it worked out, she died when I was born, so I got sent to live with my father here in Maloren. I've lived with my father and his family ever since."

The food was probably the best she had had since Neith had died. Neith was the best cook that Oriana had ever seen - though perhaps she was a bit biased, seeing as Neith was her grandmother. Oriana had tried to learn how to cook from her grandmother, but it hadn't worked as well as she would have liked to boast. It was too late to learn much now, considering, and it wasn't as though the family had excess for elaborate meals anyway. Well, we're alive, aren't we? she thought to herself. In gratitude anyway, she said to Shem, "Thank you for dinner, though it really wasn't necessary." She continued eating and took a sip of her water.

After chewing up a couple more bites of roast, she asked him, "What sort of work do you do in Maloren, then?" The rope burns on his hands had made her think that he worked down at the docks, but she could be wrong. Plenty of occupations involved ropes...

Shem felt a tinge of sadness when Oriana told him about the death of her mother, but she continued on before he could say anything. He let her continue on. Maybe since she'd never met her mother it didn't bother her, just like the absence of his mother had never bothered him much except for the times when his Da had looked so lonely.

"Thank you for dinner, though it really wasn't necessary." She told him, drinking a little more of her water. He took another drink of his own water and ate another bite of roast. She'd eaten nearly as much as he had and was still going. He wondered if it had been awhile since the last time she'd gotten enough to eat or if she just liked the food. It was very good, he thought, better than he'd bothered to buy in a while. If it was just him, and it usually was, it was easier to buy a cheap dinner at the inn he was sleeping at then find somewhere nice.

And of course, eating out like this everyday would cost an uncomfortable amount of money.

"What sort of work do you do in Maloren, then?" Another question from her made him finish chewing his bite of stubborn meat quickly. She was staring at the rope marks that crisscrossed his hands. He gave them a second look. Hmmmm....

Should he tease her?

Why not?

"Hangman," he said, grinning and holding out his hands, palm up. "The governer decided to pardon the poor bloke at the last minute today and I had to grab for the noose. Almost as big as Gorgon; nearly took my hands clean off." He winked at her and shook his head. "I work at the docks hauling cargo" he said, "Or at least, I did today. I'll work whereever."

She was looking down at her food when Shem replied, "Hangman." In surprise, she glanced up at him, thinking that perhaps he was serious, but the grin on his face said otherwise. Of course not. "The governer decided to pardon the poor bloke at the last minute today and I had to grab for the noose. Almost as big as Gorgon; nearly took my hands clean off." She laughed and sipped her water as he explained what he really did. "I work at the docks hauling cargo." She nodded. Saxen worked at that a lot of the time now, along with Evan and Jerome. "Or at least, I did today. I'll work whereever." Oriana nodded, knowing what he meant.

"I work at an inn," she said. "But that's only as long as it lasts." She hated working in the inn, but it was really the only thing she could do. Her sense of direction wasn't bad, but what good was that off of a ship? She couldn't read, and her arithmetic was limited only to what was necessary for food rations. It hadn't been important to learn, though she rather regretted that now. She wondered if Shem could read, but she thought it would be stupid to ask such a question. She hoped her younger cousins (and their new children) would be able to learn to read and write. It would be a useful skill to have, especially if they never saved up enough money to buy a ship. Then they could manage an inn, versus working as a serving maid in one.

Finally, she finished eating. Gods, it had been a delicious meal - she had not tasted better in a long time. She folded her napkin and set it next to her glass before taking a sip of water again. She doubted she'd eat as good for a long time. She waited politely for Shem to be finished (if he wasn't already) or for him to say something else. She figured it wouldn't be best to probe further into his business. Most Malorens were touchy about such things, but she'd never dealt with a northerner, not beyond business transactions.

She laughed at his joke. Well that was good at least. He pushed the last bits of his dinner around his plate as she finished her giggling and told him a little about her own work. "I work at an inn," she said between sips of her water. "But that's only as long as it lasts."

Shem nodded. "The docks are only day to day too." he said. "It'd be nicer if there was something a bit more steady and a bit easier on my back but at least it earns me enough for supper." He took a drink of his own water, washing down a rather impolitely large bite of carrot. "What's nice are the days when the shopkeepers need some extra help. Spending all day scratching out sums might not be the most exciting of things to do, but it beats sunburn, sore muscles, and insults, eh?"

He finished his last morsel of food about the same time Oriana did. Aerys, who'd apperently been watching them closely, swooped down to stack plates on already fully laden arms and then returned a moment later to demand payment which Shem gave her with a small tip. She looked surprised at that "Sweet lad," and ruffled his hair as she disappeared again. Shem blinked. Maybe tipping wasn't as common in Maloren as it was in Ivria.

"Would you like me to walk you home...if you're going that way?" he asked politely. "I mean, it's not like I'd be much good if anything happens, but..." he sighed. "Maybe it's a northern thing."

Well Shem, it appears you're being your usual suave self. Good to see you haven't gone and gained any talents in the last few years.

"The docks are only day to day too." She agreed with him. Already, her father had switched the docks that he worked on several times... It depended on what was in stock, who was in port, how many men there were... It certainly wasn't a job for a family man, but sometimes, it was necessary just to survive. "It'd be nicer if there was something a bit more steady and a bit easier on my back but at least it earns me enough for supper." She smiled, understanding. Serving wasn't so bad, and if it hadn't been for being on her feet all day, it wouldn't be too unbearable. Carrying linens and other loads was not particularly pleasant, however. At least the works she had done on ships had actually accomplished something. In her opinion, washing linens wasn't exactly the most productive way to spend her time. He went on. "What's nice are the days when the shopkeepers need some extra help. Spending all day scratching out sums might not be the most exciting of things to do, but it beats sunburn, sore muscles, and insults, eh?" She supposed that it wasn't exciting, but she didn't give much of a response - she didn't even know what sums were, so how could she?

The serving maid came back with the price, and it didn't seem too awful, for Shem gladly paid it. He even tossed the serving girl a few coins. Oriana (and the serving maid alike) were surprised - hardly anyone ever tipped her. In fact, she was almost suspicious that he had the money to fling about like that. The serving maid ruffled his hair in gratitude and went off to clear their dishes.

"Would you like me to walk you home...if you're going that way?" Oriana almost laughed at him. The last person to offer to do that for her had been her uncle. It was not particularly safe at all times for women to be wandering the streets of Maloren, but men were just as likely to be victims of crime in the city. Besides, there was still light out. Nevertheless, it was an awfully kind offer. "I mean, it's not like I'd be much good if anything happens, but... Maybe it's a northern thing." She smiled at him. "Such confidence," she said dryly, smiling at him. "You're welcome to come with, if you wish. The Three Moons isn't anything exciting." They got up to leave the inn, her waiting for him to decide as they stepped back into the Maloren streets.

"You're welcome to come with, if you wish. The Three Moons isn't anything exciting." Oriana said to him as they walked out of the inn and into the harsh but fading sunlight. People still crowded the cobbled streets as they finished work, shopped for dinner, headed home, or just stood and chatted with others for a few minutes. It could have been Ivria except for the myriad of arguments and fights and the frequent shouts of 'Thief! Thief!'.

Outside of his own inn, which was actually only a few doors down, the innkeeper's wife was dispatching a drunk, presumably one that had run out of money or, judging from how she was shaking him by the collar, had never had any money in the first place. Shem stifled a simpathetic wince. So far he'd been spared from the innkeeper's wife's wrath but he imagined that it wouldn't be very fun at all; not much in Maloren was.

Shem stretched again then stepped down off the last step. He missed Ivira a little but more than that he missed places where people didn't try to kill each other in the streets. How people could stand it here month after month he didn't know. How people could not get themselves beat up month after month he didn't know either. At least Oriana had saved him from that particular fate today. He looked up and grinned up at Oriana, who was still standing on the steps. "Left or right to the Three Moons, My Lady?" He asked, offering her his arm.

"Right," she said, a puzzled look on her face as she went to take his arm. She hoped that she was doing it correctly, for never had a man offered her his arm before (save for dancing). It must be a northerner thing... she thought to herself, but as they began to walk along, people didn't stare at them, so she supposed that she must be doing something right. Lovers held hands when they walked, sometimes, but Oriana, being of a less than civil family, had never seen linking arms before.

As they walked, she asked him, "Are you planning to stay in Maloren for long?" She really shouldn't have cared at all, considering she barely knew him at all. His company had been nice, though, and that was a rare thing in Maloren. For that matter, it had been so nice that she should have been suspicious. Her uncle Jerome would have scolded her for such idiocy, for such easy trust. Then he'll just have to not know then... Besides, there was something about Shem (and his grin) that she couldn't help but trust.

The Three Moons did not look particularly busy, to Oriana's pleasure, so she figured she would be able to sleep easy. She did not have any more work to do that night, but resting was always difficult with a full inn. People were not wandering in and out of the doors, and it seemed that the drunks were already tottering their way down the street. Though the night was young enough for another round of drinkers. Whatever the case, Oriana thoroughly intended to get a long night's rest.

"Are you planning to stay in Maloren for long?" Oriana asked as they wove their way through the streets. Shem was rather pleased she'd taken his arm though she was holding it rather awkwardly. Maybe it was yet another northerner thing that Malorens didn't do. There were many odd customs that the Malorens had that Ivrians didn't and vice versa. Sometimes it could get very confusing. He hitched his shoulders up, half pretending to stretch, and shifting her arm and his into a better position in the process. There, that was much better.

"I'm not sure," Shem said honestly. "It's easy to earn money here working at the docks and things like that," he reasoned, "But it's just as easy to get it stolen again and working all day on the docks can sure give you a backache. And the people aren't very friendly either...present company excluded of course." he added nodding at Oriana. "I think I'll probably end up heading out in a month, maybe two, maybe more. I haven't been to Olencia yet."

They reached a doorway just as he finished talking. The sign hanging over it proclaimed in to be the Three Moons Inn and Tavern. From what he could see of the inside it looked like a fairly plain place; clean and sevicable though not much else with sturdy, drunk proof furniture, and wooden floors. It was a lot like the inn he was staying at. There were a few people, some of them already drunk, drifting in and out already and the smell off food and beer wafted out. "So this is where you work?" Shem asked, still peering inside. "It looks nice enough to me. Is the food as good here as it was at the Four Sails? Say yes and I'll start eating here instead."

Oriana listened to him talk about his plans and how he wished to see Olencia... Olencia. She wondered briefly if her relatives were there. It felt odd to call them relatives or family, however. They had never done anything for her. Saxen says they didn't kill me at least, though. That was true, but she supposed that was just common courtesy. In Maloren, it was considered that... She pushed those thoughts away however, for she doubted she'd ever even see the outskirts of Maloren, much less the capital city.

Once they reached the inn, (Home, sweet home, she thought dryly) Shem inquired as to the quality of the food of the Three Moons. She shrugged. "I haven't eaten enough of it to tell you," she said, barely keeping the bitterness from her voice. Things had been so much better before. At least she had a roof over her head though. To lighten her last comment though, she looked at him, releasing his arm (almost regrettfully, it had been nice having him lead her around), and said, "I wouldn't mind seeing a friendly face every once and awhile though, if you do stay some time." It was foolish to act like they were friends, especially if he only had plans of staying for a month. Time passed quickly, however little she ate. Oriana didn't like people to disappear from her life. It was better to not invite them at all.

The other serving maids glanced at her in the doorway with her new stranger, and she figured there might be some talk later. The girls at the Three Moons didn't have much else to live for, save gossip, and Oriana was in on it like the rest of them. It eased their troubles a bit, being able to concentrate on anyone's life but their own. She could only hope however, that the innkeeper did not give a passing glance. She might find herself with more work then, if the innkeeper thought Oriana was actually enjoying herself.

Oriana's reaction to Shem's question surprised him. "I haven't eaten enough of it to tell you," she said. There was a touch of acid in her voice that made Shem raise his eyebrows. Maybe that's why she'd cleaned her plate as thoroughly as he had when they'd eated lunch at the Four Sails. He wondered breifly how much food she got at home. She was slim, yes, but she didn't look unhealthily so. In fact, she looked very...healthy.

Ooooh, you are dangerously close to smitten, boy........fun isn't it?

He was brought back to reality when Oriana gently slipped her arm out of his. He looked down at her and saw that she was looking back up at him. "I wouldn't mind seeing a friendly face every once and awhile though," she said, her face slightly brighter then than when she'd tossed off her last remark. "If you do stay some time." she added. Shem nearly bit his lip; who knew how long he'd be here.

But it was his decision how long he wanted to stay, he reminded himself. Moving on only looked good today because his back hurt and he'd nearly gotten himself in a nasty fight. Next week he might have a job tallying shipments or taking inventory at a shop or, if he was very lucky, helping out working with wood. If he was doing something like that staying in Maloren might sound much better. He felt a bit better.

"I'll be sure to stop in sometime, then." he promised as a few other waitresses in the inn looked their way and giggled. "Especially if you'll stop work for a few minutes and eat with me."

There was really, nothing more to say, was there? "Thank you again for your help with Gorgon." Shem said, tying up everything he could think of. "And for sharing dinner with me today. Hopefully next time I see you no one will be threatening to cut off my nose." He took her hand and gave it a small squeeze, then flashed a smile at her and slipped into the crowds with more agility than he would have given himself credit for before she could react.

He whistled the whole way home.