A Warm Welcome

May 16, 2017
==== Onida, Sanso

Renegade Camp - Shanty Row
This dock is nothing near as imposing than the Pier being far smaller, at the very least, it's rather humble. Lined upon this little boardwalk is a row of shanty homes made from any available wood or crates gathered from a hard day's work. Most are simple and modest little homes, white washed to at least have some civilized class to them, making them more appealing to the eye. There is one or two, though, that could use a little more skill in their creation, yet they still offer some level of comfort to the occupants inside.

Rukbat is high in the sky when Sanso angles his ruddy brown runner on towards the final leg towards home. All along the way he had stopped, randomly, taking the odd twist or turn to throw off any that might have been stupid enough to follow. Only when he was sure that he was alone did he push on past the waterfall. He'd been away for turns, barely having taken his first steps out of childhood when he'd last seen his brethren. Dismounting as he approaches shanty row, he walks his faithful friend he rest of the way, handing the reigns off to a bearded and grizzy looking man with more humor than teeth. Once this is done, he unstraps the saddle and it's bags, while the man with the reins grins a crooked and cracked grin at the tall lean hunter, "Ya back fer a while, Sanso?" To this, dark lashes drift downwards, settling a silent look of smooth neutrality upon him. "Perhaps." The grizzly cackles, leading the runner off once everything was offloaded, and only when they are out of sight does Sanso start off towards the bathes. "Hey Ferg! Sanso's back!" comes from somewhere, "Sanso? Ain't heard that name in a…" But Sanso is no longer listening, letting a gaggle of busy bees handle taking his possessions to his quarters, removing his bow from where it was strung around his chest.

Onida glances up at the bustle, purplish eyes drifting about, taking in the new arrival as well as the older man. Should he know thts name? If so then he doesn't show it. The young man is half-hiding behind his shelter, silently watching the comings and goings of the area. Hand tugs through unkempt hair and he listens, not approaching anyone, including the unfamiliar man. Hmm, he really is terrible at remembering names and faces. Judging silently to determine if this is yet another person the short slim lad should be hiding from.
Weary from his long journey, Sanso may very well overlook the hiding lad, even if the brightness of his style and dress would make that impossible given the time of day. Regardless, he presses on, setting his bow down the moment that he gets to the benches surrounding the bathing area. Long, skilled, fingers undo straps and ties, shedding the light armor over his robes. These too are set aside, neatly folded despite their need to be washed with his sword laid on top, before he sits and undoes the laces of his boots. Scars adorn his upper body, some very old, others newer. A portion of them are definately beast in origin, while the remainder couldn't be from anything other than the blades of men. Shedding his footwear and pants, the last thing to be removed was the leather strap binding his hair, which falls down to the middle of his slender back. It is then that he steps into one of the pools, letting the heat of the water sink into his bones as he takes a seat and leans back against the edge. His eyes, closing.

Onida must decide this isn't one of the men to be feared, at least for the moment. Stepping from his hiding place, he shoots questioning looks to the ones that spoke the name of Sanso. He really doesn't expect a response to his silent inquiries, but he waits nonetheless to see if there are any. Scars are glanced at, curious eyes trailing over the beastly ones in particular. Oni has seen scars like them once, covering the back and chest of.. someone from his past that he isn't able to place a name abd face on. And look, armor, this would be useful to have sometimes, though it lacks a certain.. brightness for Onida's likes. Out in the open by the baths, well, this really isn't the best place for him as mumbling can be heard behind him. Something about telling someone that the wimp is in the clearing.

Those inquisitive looks? Maybe one soul with a thread of kindness in him jerks his head Sanso's way. "That's one ya be wantin' on yer side, boy." Especially since someone was pointing Onida out as an easy target. The man in the baths sighs, tired muscles releasing, and aches washing away with it the grime of miles traveled. The taunts of bullies though, those tend to carry, especially when keen ears are set to listen for them. Dangerously cold almond shaped eyes open, sliding their brown hued gaze along to the corners past the brightly colored lad and beyond. While the man's expression doesn't much change, the fact that he is now rising from the bath he just got into, has perhaps a few who know him well enough to scatter. Others, perhaps too young to remember, or too brazen. Emerging from the siren call of a much needed cleaning, pants are pulled on, along with boots without first drying himself. Then his sword is taken up, and maybe even before Onida can react, Sanso is between the seventeen turn old and those that might do him harm. He leaves his weapon sheathed for now, but only as long as they keep their distance.

Onida looks over at the owners of the voices, hand slipping down to grab bone dagger from boot just in case. That is until a slim brow raises at the comment about wanting this man on his side, but before he can react much more than that he spots movement as this new person causes some of the area's population to scatter. This is, well, interesting. Eyes follow the movement, and he considers running for a brief moment but instead just shrinks back out of the way. But then, this man isn't coming for him is he? Maybe the bullies know of Sanso, though because they're soon slinking back into the shadows with some string of curses escaping their lips. "We'll get you Runt." These are the final words as the group of young men disperse, leaving Oni safe for a few more hours anyway. Purple-topped head is bowed at his savior in silent gratitude.

Only when the troublemakers turn tail and run, does Sanso relax, turning towards that head of purple hair to which his eyes lower. He says nothing, just the coolness of his gaze seeming to peer through, and then it is gone as he returns his attention towards the bathing pools. A tap-tap of long fingers to the hilt of his sword, and he walks back towards those soothing waters. Just as wordlessly he seats himself, removing his boots and pants, they are laid out in the hopes the heat of the afternoon would dry them before he needed them again. It is not long at all before he is as he was, as if nothing in last few minutes ever happened at all. No more is spared for Onida, Sanso appearing to be far more interested in soaking.

This person, he piques Onida's curiosity, perhaps it is worth investigating, or maybe spying, hmm. Head remains lowered until Sanso is returning back to his relaxing, and only then does this seventeen turn old move. Pale eyes scan the area, looking for someone that may have an answer as to who this person is. One target is acquired and approached while some scrap of paper is retrieved from pocket. On the scrap he scribbles a question, 'Who's that?', and then the targeted bystander is handed the scrap, hopefully its legible.

Sanso doesn't move a muscle now, his eyes closed, neck deep in the pool he's chosen. It would be natural to assume he is completely unaware of Onida's building curiosity and desperate scramble to gather more information. An older woman, one who's appearance has become haggard by turns of hard living, startles when a scrap of paper is thrust under her nose. Blinking several times, a brief expression of outrage twisting her time weathered features, snatching the note out of the eager hand of youth. "Why ya scamp! When I was yer age…" she begins, glancing at the words scrawled there in haste, and one can only hope she's literate enough to understand. Sure enough, her brows lift as one and she gives Onida a once over. Tsking softly, she spares a glance towards the pools, and then sighs before returning her milky blue-gray eyes to the colorful canvas of a seventeen turn old. With a determined chin, she jerks it in the opposite direction of Sanso, shuffling with some effort that way before grabbing a handful of pink shirt and with that gnarled hand forces him to sit upon a worn looking wooden barrel. "Ya sure ya be wantin' to know about that one?" she asks, planting her fists on her hips.

Onida finds his gaze going back to the pools as the note is grabbed, he can only hope his attempt at looking cute will save him from any penalties for interrupting the woman's day. Curiosity is probably what has gotten him into trouble upon many an occasion but the kid never seems to learn. An attempt at a squeak emits from the lad's lips as his shirt is pulled and he nearly falls as he's sat down. Immediately head goes down, ready to be struck until the woman speaks again and curious gaze looks up at her. He nods in response to her query, yes, yes he does want to know. Because, well, if other people know, then he wants to know too! As he waits for a response, either an explanation or a tossing of him to the ground whichever the woman chooses, his eyes will wander, watching for potential bullies or even other likely information-givers.

The woman all but cackles at the confirmation she receives, but is wise just to give a nearly toothless grin instead. Easing her tired old body down upon a crate nestled immediately to the right of the barrel seat, she leans as if to share all the secrets of the world over her own lap once she's folded her arms to brace against her knees. "I'm sure ya've heard of Fenrys the assassin, lad. Trained from a tot to do the thin's that assassins do in the dead of night." Her grin grows wider, the stench of rot and decay unavoidable with her every exhale. "That one, is 'is very much younger brother. Though, they be cut from the same cloth, the younger choose a different path." The woman cants her head to the side, peering closely at Onida, as if to try and get a better look at him. "…'e's a wanderer never too long in one place, a hunter who provides in times when food is scarce, and protects those that can't protect themselves. If ever there was an ally to be made and an enemy not, it'd be that one." The woman pulls back then, fortunately for the boy's nose, brushing away imaginary dirt from her raggity skirt. "Not much of a conversationalist though, if truth be told." She says with a long sigh and a sad shake of her head, perhaps fond of idle chitchat. This mournful time passes quickly, because there she is leaning in again as if what she is about to say is some big secret no one but the two of them can know. "But 'e sure is nice to look at, ain't 'e?" Now she cackles openly, slapping one of her knees in glee.

Onida does recognize the name, though he's never personally met Fenrys(lucky for him no doubt), even a runt hears stories. And runts that don't speak, well, they sometimes get forgotten about when conversations happen. The brightly clad is practiced in the art of holding his breath also, and he does so when the stench of decay tries to slap him right in the face. Head tilts, pale eyes glancing over to the bathing man again, this saves him from having to look at the old woman's grin and serves to allow him another quick view of the clearing. Not much of a conversationalist, well, that makes two of them. At the last comment, lips twist into a goofy grin and he nods in agreement, always a fan of nice views, this little runt is. Too bad it's not likely the skittish thing will approach the man of his own free will, that would be, well, that would be crazy right?

The woman's cackle is not exactly soft and so its no small wonder when Onida glances over that brown eyes are waiting for him. Sanso doesn't hold the gaze long, stirring in earnst in order to stand up and begin actually washing himself. This does the curious boy the favor of losing the man's interest, as he begins rubbing soapsand into his battle scarred skin. The crackled laughter dies into a cough, beating her own chest with the curl of one fist, before inhaling sharply just to cough some more. The fit doesn't last long though, neither do the wheezing that follows, soon returning to a more normalized exchange of air. "Ya listen well to old Berta then ya scamp, 'cause it seems like ya might be mighty interested in learning this last bit I can tell ya." She's leaning in again, best hold that breath again kid. "That one, ain't ever been seen sharin' the company of the wimmin folk, if ya catch mah meanin'." There she goes cackling again, even if she's all too aware of the consequences. Consequences that must be suffered if Onida planned on getting all the juicy details apparently, because only once she is done wheezing does she grin that grin of hers and lean over to awash him anew in her very personal sort of perfume. "Course by the look of ya…might just be a fool's errand for ya." The woman lifts her hands up each forming a circle with her fingers, soon she's banging them together uselessly as her eyes practically sparkle. Oh this makes her laugh, and she laughs hard as she creaks her way back to her feet, clamping a palm on the boy's shoulder repeatedly in a rough pat. "Good luck, lad." And her wheezing fades off into silence as she wanders off the docks and towards the housing.

Onida shrinks where he sits, or at least tries to, especially when those brown eyes spot his own pale gaze staring, oops! Quickly do eyes cast downward again, anything to avoid eye contact with… anyone really. The woman's coughing has an eyebrow tilting just so, probably wondering if she's going to die right here in front of him, but luckily it subsides and he earns more of the scoop as breath is held quickly. Wait, what? Fools errand? Maybe it's a good thing that he's not the smartest runt in the bunch because even after a moment of pondering the woman's words and motion, he gives up understanding for the moment. And with that unexpected pat almost unsteadies him. He waves after the lady, though her back is already turned so she most likely misses it. And then he was there, alone, on that barrel, eyes wandering once more, of course they have to pause on the bathing figure briefly. It is a rather nice view and so he'll remain on his barrel for a moment, letting his mind wander along with those pale purple orbs.

Maybe old Berta gave the boy's intelligence too much credit, or maybe she believes if he was as curious and interested as he seemed, he'd give it the thought required to work it out. Either way, she's gone now, and left Onida to his own devices. Which, happened to be Sanso peeping, and what a show it is. The scars aside, everything about the man seemed to cry for attention, even the way muscle flexed and shifted beneath the endlessly pale expance of skin stretched over sinew and bone. He was very fit for someone of his body type, not a hint of extra padding anywhere on this slender frame, everything seemingly chiseled from stone. Those eyes though, their chill was all too real, and now was refocused back on Onida. Sanso's head falls back slightly, the narrowness of his gaze floating past the thickness of dark lashes and is waiting for those wandering pale orbs to notice. All the while, scrubbing away as if this was whole situation was perfectly normal and perhaps it was.

Scars aren't bad, Onida has a few of his own, don't we all? Besides scars are.. sexy. Hmm, the pink-clad one is enjoying the show, his cheeks almost matching his shirt in coloration. He really should do something other than spy on the bathing form, but what else is there to do really? Pushing himself to his feet in a sudden brief burst of bravery, he emerges from his hiding place, walking towards the pool. Steps are stopped short though as head tilts at a sound and before he can react a leg flicks out from behind one of the stacks of crates, tripping Oni and landing him face first on the ground with a thud. Well, that was smooth wasn't it? "Ha!" Comes the voice then, as another young man steps out from his hiding spot. "What're you doing anyway Oni, aren't you supposed to be sparring?" At least this one isn't one og the bullies, it seems as he offers a hand to the fallen lad, helping him up. Of course, even as he accepts the help up, pale eyes move towards the pools, you didn't see that right? Ahem! "Why're you…" Falcon's amber eyes follow Oni's periwinkle ones and he snickers. "Who's tha…. Ouch!" Falcon's words are cut off by a punch to his arm. "Hey!" Well, maybe not all the young men are out to get Onida, just the big dumb ones it seems. "Anyway, Zarek is looking for his punching bag, you'd better make yourself scarce." Onida just frowns at his friend, really, right now? But he was just enjoying the view durnit.

Oh, Sanso had magical seeing through hiding places vision because his eyes are locked to the exact place that Onida brazenly emerges from, a single brow shifting ever so slightly upwards when the boy is just as quickly planting his face into the weathered planks of the fishing dock. Yep, he sure did see that. This commotion now going on between the two young man holds Sansa's attention well enough that his scrubbing slows, looking from one to the other maybe out of nothing else better to do. As if he sensed something different about this altercation, he remains in the pool this time, quickly losing interest now that it becomes clear that Onida's only threat right now was his inability to hold off a sparing partner. Builds character, that! As the friends prattle on, hair is washed and he disappears to rinse, having no shame in leaving the pool the same way he'd entered it. Twice. Toweling off this time completely, clothing is pulled back on with no hurry, everything more or less back in place save for his hair. This was still damp, and so it is left to hang loose about his shoulders. Bow and sword in hand, Sanso walks past the friends, towards the shacks.

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