The First Step

Emblem of Ea - Sunday, August 22, 2021, 3:27 PM

Aryia is fidgeting in the Lower Market District with a set of glasses designed to protect her eyes from the glare of the sun, but one of the lenses has slipped loose. Venom, in her 'Venessa' persona, is making her way along stalls for curiosity's sake, when she spies the scarred elf and moves closer to see to her wellbeing. Aryia is briefly stunned by the very different demeanors between her 'Venom' and 'Venessa' guises. The pair retreat to the Fernwood Pub for the sake of Aryia's eyes, as well as a table to work on, where the human applies some of her tools to getting the lens back in place. As she works, the pair have a multifaceted conversation about their perspectives and approaches to interaction. As the conversation gets into heavier topics, Venom, normally inscrutible, shows vulnerability and some lack of certainty in some regards, but it tightens the bond between the pair, who resolve to discover who they really are, having already taken the hardest and most vital steps in self discovery; the first...

-=--=--=--=--=--=<* A07: Lower Alexandria Market District *>-=--=--=--=--=--=-

         Just west of the Northern Highbridge and east of the arena, commerce blooms. Noisy and bustling, most anything may be purchased here for a price. Vendors from all cultures sell their wares from exotically colored carts, and the smells of different nations and far-off city-states mix with local ones from Alexandria and its riverbanks. 

         For all its commerce, visitors are advised to keep hold of their purses. Even the merchants possess a certain, cunning look. Most are positioned at carts or stalls as opposed to a formal storefront, with trade here being mobile, and visiting from all parts of the world. 

         Though the quality of goods suffers here compared to Upper Alexandria, the options are more diverse. Too, the oversight of the Watch is slightly less, and during times events are held at the Arena, chaos abounds. After dark, the square becomes a hangout for bards and other entrepreneurs whose business is best conducted by night; the shadows at the edges of the square often contain furtive figures engaging in their own brand of business.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Aryia           A heavily scarred mul with a tired look about her.    43s  58m
Venom           A woman(?) about 5'6" in a ragged black veil and ponc 0s   1h

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Anvilclang: Forge <AFG> Craft's Crafts <CC> Anvilclang: Entry <AS>

Prestigious Moon <PM> Fernwood Pub <FP> West <W>

Bridge <NE> South <so>

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

                Lower Markets. Afternoon. 

It's a bright day in Alexandria, the clear sky shining down on the lower markets. After the strange hail storm that occurred some days ago, some bold vendors began to place out jackets and parkas for sale.

Though, one scarred mul'neissa was hanging out under an awning, rubbing at her eyes before fidgeting with a pair of tinted spectacles in her hands. One of the lenses had popped out, and she was having some issues slotting it back into place.

The day finds a Acanian woman moving through the market, clad in a peasant's blouse and soft leather trousers with soft boots turned back at the calves. A small day pack rattles slightly at her shoulders while she drifts from stall to stall like a bee, a casual expression on her features.

It isn't overlong, however, before she takes note of the Mul'niessa near one of her stopoffs, and she drifts over that way. As she draws near, she shields her eyes with a calloused hand, then inquires softly, "Hey, are you alright?"

Meanwhile, her other hand, shielded from anyone but Aryia by her hip signs a discrete, "Attacked?" in <handspeech>

The shadow elf looked as if she almost got the lens back in, but it slips back out. She huffs, cheeks puffed out in minor annoyance. The question makes her glance up, the elf thinking someone else was speaking to another, so she goes back to her task. Except, she just barely catches the sign.

Aryia's head snaps back up again. She blinks a few times, surprised. Them glancing the Acanian over before giving a slow nod at the spoken question. The attire change throwing Aryia off completely.

"... no," she slowly gestures back, no where near as sly about it. <Handspeech>

Venom gives a little quirk of her lips at the corners, nodding just a touch, then looks to the lens in her hand, "Sorry, I didn't mean to distract you."

Meanwhile, she scratches slightly at her midriff, then flshes a quick sign of, "Scouting." <handspeech>

She shields her eyes again and looks skyward, then looks to her again, "Do you... need a hand with that?"

It takes Aryia a moment for her to center herself, the subtle signs coupled with the casualness of their demeanor makes the pieces click in the elf's head. Following along, she smooths back the side of her hair, a small "For?" shown before Aryia shakes her head and waves off the apology.

The pugilist shifts on her feet before giving a small nod, Aryia holding up the glasses and the missing lens towards the Acanian woman. Still a bewildered look on her face as she watches on. <Handspeech>

Venom nods, considering the Mul'niessa for a moment and she flicks a tiny smile and signs a single, "Dilligence." in <handspeech>

She carefully accepts the pieces andconsiders the fit of lens to rim before she looks back to ARyia, trying to read her, "I have some tools that can help, if you'd like to get out of the sun?"

She suspects the dark elf is still reconciling the divergent bearings of her exposed seemings.

It looks as if the spectacles were cheaply made, something that wouldn't be missed if they were lost. One of the tiny screws had come loose, it now a poor fit for the tinted lens.

The answer in sign makes her tilt her head to the side before giving a small shrug. Must've been something that Venom does. The voiced question yields an eager nod in agreement. Anything to get out of the sun. Aryia steps closer, mirroring the light smile.

And yes, she was. But only just now starting to get over it.

Venom nods and smiles, "There is a tavern not far from here. The food is decent, if you're hungry, and the light isn't too excessive, but it has tables so I can work." She turns some, looking down to give the glasses another look, then, "Come, it's this way."

She makes no further sign, now that the pieces are in her hands, as she doesn't want to risk losing them, instead "You can me Venessa."

There is a part of her that expects a more... expansive explanation is required, but isn't inclined to do so for the sake of witnesses. She'll have to work out a quiet spot at some point.

The shadow elf nods, her taking another step closer and shielding her eyes with a hand. Though, she pauses in her stride. Looking up at the Acanian, it looked as if they answered a question that Aryia couldn't figure out how to word subtly. Under the din of the markets, a small hiss could be heard. "V-n-ss-." There's a small gesture, her smile more sure. "That's a good name." <Handspeech>

She gives a thumbs up and follows in stride beside Vanessa.

Venom takes a moment to realize Aryia's gait had abated, and she turns sligtly, curious, once's she made the realization. She smiles just a bit awkwardly, eyes half lidding at the compliment, but she nods and turns back on course as Aryia moves up to resume the trek.

Aryia follows after, her quite content at the premise of getting to spend time with her friend. She whistles a soft tune as they go along, something busy to fill the time.

Venom turns a curious eye to Aryia's whistling, not so much an unexpected capability as cause. She considers that, pondering the reason for the whistling, based on observation of others in the past.

As 'Venessa' had stated, the Fernwood Pub is not very far, and it is with a soft spoken, "Here we are!" the unveiled Acanian turns up into the stoop and leans in to hold one of the double batwing doors open for Aryia with an elbow.

Despite the recent developments, it looked as if, indeed, the shadow elf was in a good mood.

Aryia ceases her notes, her nodding in approval at the choice of location. She slips past 'Venessa', a knuckle nudging the human on the arm as she goes by and quickly finds a table for just the two of them. A booth off to the side, out of the way. Aryia slips into one bench, her drumming the table with her hands a few times before gesturing to her friend. "You surprised me, I won't lie. <Handspeech>

Venom slips into the booth, smiling a touch more at the gently bump of knuckles and she carefully sets the pieces of the glasses on the table before she replies, "Sorry."

Her hands, now freed, sign a more elaborative, "You surprised me, too. I didn't expect to run into you in this mode." <handspeech>

The brunette pitches forward slightly in her seat, withdrawing a good sized leather roll, bound shut with brass toggles and cordage, with she starts to fiddle with on the more wallward side of the table, "I do little nothing jobs or day work."

Knot untied, one hand signs a discrete, "Soaking up rumors." <handspeech>

And the roll is opened, one of the pockets plundered for appropriate tools, and a small number of screws, which are carefully set on the table.

The first set of signs makes Aryia chuckle, a breathy sort of sound. She gestures back, "I work all around lower Alexandria. It would have only been am atter of time."

Aryia leans forward, her watching the slowly growing arrangement of tools and screws. She props her chin up on her hands, her kicking her legs lightly under the table.

"I work on the docks most of the day, then do deliveries as the day winds down," she signs before propping her head back up, eyes slightly glimmering in the shaded corner of the inn.

"Learn anything?" she asks after a moment, curiously watching how they were going to fix the shoddy pair of shades. <Handspeech>

Venom starts to carefully size a driver to the screw still in place on the glasses, but it takes several tools to find one that will properly mate. That done, she starts to unscrew it enough to expose the threads before easing it back to the table.

She asks a polite, "Want anything?" aloud, while she squints at several different screws before finding one she seems to like.

She sets that near the drive, then starts to sign, "Mostly babble about the other day." <handspeech>

That said, she starts to work the new screw into the frame, very very carefully.

The array of tools was foreign to her, though her kicking under the table ceases as Venom starts tedious work. She gives a nod as an answer, a finger help up. "I could do one drink," she motions carefully. Something to dampen the constant social anxiety would be welcome.

"Mostly implies the existence of something interesting," she signs with one hand as she watches the screw go in. <Handspeech>

"Mead, beer, some shot of something?" Venessa wonders after glancing to Aryia's speaking hands. She backs out the screw, then grabs one that looks almost exactly the same, and gives it a go, to more emminent satisfaction. The screw doesn't go too far in before she tightens in the other one.

She signs, "There was a couple of women spotted here a year or so ago that could make massive cold spells. There was also trouble with black slime, disease and cultists. The cultists stopped, then some months later, the women stopped being seen and the plague and slimes were suddenly gone." <handspeech>

She then spends some time trying to get the smoked glass back into it's home (that's your home! Are you too good for your home?) without cracking it. There's a little 'tink!' as the pane slips into place, and she lets out a breath she must have been holding once she verifies that as the sound of seating rather than damage. That done, she starts to work the new screw into the frame....

She thinks about it for a moment before the elf answers, "Mead. Do you want anything? I can go get it while you work"

She nods along, squinting at some of the information. Perhaps something that was adjacent knowledge. "Strange things. But all over the place, it seems," Aryia notes with a flick of a wrist. There's a soft clap as Venom gets one screw in, Aryia giving her a smile. <handspeech>

Venom arches an eyebrow, gives a little smile, then nods, "A tea, please." she returns softly over the project.

She finally seems satisfied, then pulls a small cloth out of the tool pack, this one pristine, and she covers her finger with it before using it to press lightly against the inside of the lens to make sure it's secure.

Neither one pops out.

With an affirming nod, she removes a flask from her main pack, pours a sharp smelling clear liquid onto the corner of that cloth, then uses it to cleanse the lenses of fingerprints.

She seems fairly content with the outcome of these endeavors, then cradles the eyewear in her hands to carefully present to Aryia, "Here you go." she says gently.

Aryia nods, though she doesn't leave just yet, her watching the whole process. It looked as if Venom was handling the craft with care. Extreme care. Her face softens, Aryia reaching out to take the eyewear. "T-nk -, V-n-ss-," she quietly hisses, smiling softly. The shades slide onto the collar of her shirt before she holds up a finger and leaves the table.

A couple minutes later, Aryia returns, a teapot and cup held in her fingers on one hand, and a flagon in the other. She slides the two over to the human as she sits down across from her.

"I really appreciate that a lot. I can't keep a decent pair of those, always break or lose them," Aryia gestures, settling into her seat. She watches Venessa for a moment, her fidgeting with her fingers for a moment before making an 'ah' sound. She rummages around in her pack on her side before pulling out an oiled cloth, folded up neatly. She slides it over.

"That helped a lot. Thank you again for helping me during all of that," she points to the cloth, before fidgeting with her cup and sipping from it. <Handspeech>

Venom looks up as Aryia tries to speak again, looking momentarily concerned, but she smiles and nods, "You're welcome."

She manages to have her stuff stowed by the time the dark elf returns, her odd pack set on the bench beside her.

The human looks up as her drink is provided her and she bows her head with a little, "Thank you." and works at pouring herself a cup while her dark eyes track the communicative movements of her hands. The thanks, and the return of her work cloth are met with another smile and, "You're welcome. Thank you for returning this." The cloth is slipped into one of the pockets of her pack with nary a rattle or sound of clutter that surely must occupy such a vessel. She has a thoughtful look in her eye, considerate, then she starts to sign, hesitantly at first, "Does it... hurt when... when you try to speak out loud?" <handspeech>

Aryia nods in acknowledgement as things were stowed away and their drinks were nursed. She's staring down at the golden draught into her cup, not entirely sure what to talk about next. Being in a casual setting like that was not something she was best with.

But the motion catches her attention, her tilting her head to the side before her gaze goes up to the roof. A long sigh.

Aryia shakes her head. "Only if I yell. If I don't move my throat it doesn't hurt. A whisper. Trying to talk normally for a long time makes it bleed," she explains after a moment of pause, opening up to someone was different. Vulnerable. But Venom shared some secrets, it was only fair.

The noise of the tavern makes it difficult to hear, but the shadow elf's lips move, "S-m-t-m-s y-s. S-m-t-m-s n-." She sighs. "I end up not speaking much anyways, it's been like this for some decades now." <Handspeech>

Venom seems momentarily less sure of herself at the look to the ceiling, the sigh. This might have been a little too much for this level of-!

She blinks as the dark elf deigns to answer, her eyes absorbing the flex and twist of her slender fingers and her expressions as well as she can. Her lips purse as she tries to catalogue the possible damage, though her experience in such things if very much more an external reference.

Her focus narrows to her lips as the notes them moving, the scarcest sounds discernable between the syllabic din of the aternoon crowd.

She gives a slow nod, and her hands frame a slow, "I'm sorry they hurt you." Her eyes lower, then, after a moment's consideration, looks up into the elf's eyes and signs, "Don't hurt yourself for me." <handspeech>

Coupled with Aryia's explanation, as well as the jagged, uneven scar that goes straight across the dark elf's throat, Venom could assume that the damage done was severed vocal cords.

Aryia softly smiles, her reaching out to gently push the last signs down. She pulls back and gestures, "I don't think I'll be yelling at you, so don't worry." There's a small pause, her face smoothing out a touch. She drinks, letting the warmth hit her gut before continuing. "It's alright. They're dead now. They deserved it." Aryia looks to her hand, clenching her fist as if she was holding something before shaking her head and relaxing it. <Handspeech>

Venom watches their hands as hers are eased down mid sign, then turns her eyes, briefly quizzical, to Aryia's. A nod, and her hands relax, waiting for the dark elf's to withdraw before starting to sign anew, "Alright." <handspeech>

She takes up her teacup then, as Aryia's explanation nears it's end, and she raises it to the scarred woman as she says, "To their fitting ends."

Aryia smiles, her snickering and raising her drink. She leans forward with it, carefully clinking her drink carefully with Venom's. "T- th- -. F-ck th-m." She drinks. Deep and practiced before ceasing with just a pinky's worth left in her flagon.

She watches Venessa for a moment, her tilting her head to the side. "You're the first person to ask me that," Aryia comments, a hand lifting from her drink. "Most don't end up caring. Or tell me to fix it with artifice or magic or whatever." <Handspeech>

Venessa brings the cup to her lips and sips from her tea then sets it quietly back upon the table, lips parting in a grin at her words, "Fuck them."

She eases into her seat as Aryia frames her observation, her eyes diming some as she thinks on the framing of her answer, then she starts to sign, "There are times you try speaking, even when you know you don't need to and it troubles you. I didn't understand." <handspeech>

She brigs the cup to her lips again for a long, slow draught as her other hand continues, "I figured you had your reasons, if you hadn't considered it, especially if it's been so long." <handspeech>

Aryia pulls her knees up, resting her chin on them. She moves the drink away, a clear line of sight between her and Venom. "There was a long time that I could never speak my mind. And when I finally was able to, I still can't. Even barely able to write, I couldn't really speak my mind. It was only until now that I could. Sometimes people don't understand me, but I still call people out on dumb shit, because I never was able to." She takes a break to drink the last of her mead before finishing with, "I just learned how to talk around it without flaring it up too badly. Been about fifty years so..." she rolls a hand. <Handspeech>

Venom nods, easing her cup down to the table as she replies, "I know how that can be."

Her hands frame a more elaborate, "We were to acknowledge or report. It was only in the field that we were able to really express ourselves, within some limits."

With a little shrug, she cocks her head just a touch, and she continues, "Sometimes, I find it easier to just let the stupid roll by with a countermeasure for the outcome than to try and defuse it." <handspeech>

Aryia settles her eyes on Venom as she speaks, still not used to hearing the gentle tone in the slightest bit. Though, her visage does pinch at the last gestures, her heavy sigh. "D-x," was all she had to say about that. They both knew.

Wishing there was more in her cup, Aryia's hands find new things to mess with, namely scratching a nail against the grain of the table. "If you ever want to express yourself with me around, feel free. Without limit. It's... liberating, honestly," she mentions with small gestures, accompanied by a weak smile. "Are... you still in the field now? Or... are you your own?" <Handspeech>

"In as many words." Venessa replies, giving another little shrug. She watches Aryia's hands seek a proper fidget for a moment then form both offer and inquiry.

She smiles, then and nods, "Same, I... missed this."

Her hands then start to form her answer, "We rebelled." and there, they falter, half forming several different words, but settling on none before going still. <handspeech>

Her face relaxes some at the answer, the small, uncommitted signs something Aryia would recognize herself, as she too was one to waffle about when confronted with difficult topics. She smiles for a moment, about to sign something before a thought crosses her.

There's a barkless laugh. An odd, scratchy sort of flange with too much air. Like someone was guffawing without putting any gut into it. The shadow elf grins, perhaps the drink lowered some inhibitions. "Look at us," she gestures, twin fingers rocking back and forth between them. "Aren't we both a ball of anxiety and complicated issues?" <Handspeech>

Venom looks up at the laughter, a sort of puzzled look on her face, though it softens some as the dark hands start to fly once more.

She colors across the face in that way humans do, and she fidgets, seeming much less the inscrutable enigma without her shrouded countenance.

Ahem.

"I haven't trusted anyone like this, since." she explains, perhaps a little defensively. <handspeech>

"Neither have I! It's weird!" she admits openly, throwing her hands up with another easy laugh. Aryia's exuberance abates some, her settling her gaze on the flushed human. She rubs her neck, perhaps that was a bit too much. "Sorry. I mean nothing bad by it, just an observation."

Though, there was one dangling thread. Aryia folds her hands together, head tilting back so she could look up at Venom. "Since...?" she copies the gesture, looking receptive and open. The conversation felt so, so odd. To just spill these things out, but it felt oddly relieving. Like a chronic sore slowly eased off. <Handspeech>

Venom rubs at an awkward tingle at the back of her neck and shrugs. She clears her throat, but uses her hands instead "I haven't seen any of the others since the battle."

There's a little shrug and, "I... think they thought I was dead." <handspeech>

The scarred elf's muted positivity smooths out as the dour topic comes around. She leans in, listening (rather, watching) intently. "The others... I guess the ones you trained with."

Aryia hazards a guess. "Are you doing all this looking around to see if they managed to get out like you did?" she slowly motions, trying to broach the topic without instantly closing up the trust that the pugilist was being opened to. <Handspeech>

The brunette nods with a little so-so gesture of her left hand. She spends a moment consuming more of her tea, then sets the cup gently. With some reluctance, she starts to sign a reply, "I only found a few bodies when I came to." <handspeech>

Aryia's face drops to a sad frown, her looking down at the table and picking her fingers. She glances to Venom's hands once they still. There's a beat, and a scarred, grey skinned hand carefully touches Venom's hand. "I'm sorry," she motions with her spare hand, a closed fist on her chest. Gaze at the table. <Handspeech>

Venom has a slightly awkward look in her eye and nods, and her hand turns slightly, curlling into the grey fingers surrounding it.

There's a slight lag in reply, a soft, earnest, "Thank you."

The moment is rather... heavy, and she isn't entirely sure if she should elaborate further, but in lieu of making a decision on that count, she encloses Aryia's comforting hand with her other hand, letting the silence linger unchallenged for the moment.

There wasn't a need to elaborate, or a desire for one. This was already far out of Aryia's wheel house of social graces. She didn't add anything, the scarred pugilist reaching over to cover the added hand with her free one. Giving up her ability to speak to instill the silence further. And perhaps quell the heavy moment for Venom; her friend.

It's a silence that encomapsses them, both. Both by lingering scars. Together, a moment of empathy and trust between the two and it is allowed to grow for some while before there is an audible swallow from 'Venessa', bows her head and gives the hand a little squeeze before relaxing, "We... can talk about something else, if you want." she offers in a low murmur.

Content in the silence, Aryia simply closes her eyes and sits there. It was a new feeling, for certain. But not an unwelcome one. She gentle returns the squeeze before pulling her hands away, her back lightly thunking against the bench. Aryia lightly smiles. "Alright."

But what to talk about?

She kicks her feet and wracks her brain. A hand finding something else to fidget with: one of her long ears. While her other one forms half questions. "Do you... have you ever... do you like... what's your...?" Come on, you dumb sil, why are you like this?

She snaps a finger. Ah. "How old are you?" What kind of question was that? Grimacing a bit at the weak conversation starter, she follows up with, "I'm one hundred ten. I think. Give or take a few years." <Handspeech>

Venom is contemplating the ripples of her tea it looks lik, before Aryia's hand movements draw her eyes once more. The hesitant redirection leaves her somewhat confused before the finally settles on a question, and the unveiled Acanian replies, after a moment's thought, "Eighteen."

Meanwhile, beside her teacup, her hand flickers a quick, "He never told us." <handspeech>

Sighing a bit in relief that she got somewhere with such a bland question, Aryia gives a small nod, glancing towards the silent addendum. Though, she refocuses back on Venom, Aryia looking her back over again as if it was the first time. Seeing if the stated fact was somewhat true. But she was terrible at guessing numbers, even moreso ages.

The dark elf rubs her neck, one hand flicking between the two of them. "We're too young for this kind of work," she points out with a sober sigh. "I don't know my own either. I had a year on me, but it's gone. Was my age. I don't remember the exact year." <Handspeech>

Venom finishes her first cup of tea in a long draught, then reaches out to pour herself another to regroup.

She watches the Mul'niessa's signs, glancing to her face between gestures, then nods, "Perhaps. It seems we can work rather well." the Acanian brushes back her hair over her shoulder, then, "You were going to ask something else, weren't you?" <handspeech>

"We do work rather well," she smiles proudly. Of the few times they worked together, things did move quite smooth when they were in the spotlight. Though, the question makes the pugilist pause. A lost looks crosses her face. "I was?" she asks, pointing to herself. Aryia ends up poking the tips of her fingers together, searching for words before finally admitting with a few crude gestures,"I'm... kind of dog shit at talking with people. You're the first person I've been able to have a halfway decent conversation with that hasn't went off into converting me, chastising me, or being too dismissive of my worries.."

She takes a breath, wishing her drink was full once more of something strong to settle her nerves. Were she able to voice, stutters would be slipping in by now. "It is less asking something and more of not knowing what to ask in the first place. I don't... I don't talk to people. Because no one really talked to me before I got here." <Handspeech>

Venom nods, seeming rather comfortable with the estimation of their performance. Not quite smug, but feeling rather assured of things.

As Aryia's expression changes, her brows furrow a touch and she cants her head, gaze swinging down to the Mul'niessa's hands as she starts to reply.

She isn't entirely sure about a lot of that, but she hasn't seen most of her interactions with others, so she can't elaborate on the broader scope. Instead, she turns to what she's reasonaly sure of, and she starts to sign, "We both spend a lot of time listening. We consider what we have to say, instead of letting random words dribble out of our face holes. I'm mostly what I was made to be." Here, she shrugs, then goes on, "I think we both are, and we don't want to be molded, anymore." <handspeech>

Aryia pulls her hands down and sits on them, the fidgeting getting obstructive at this point and needing to quit for the time being so she could focus. Her milky gaze flicks between Venom's face and the gestures.

Her expression grows pensive, and unfocused. A hand tearing free from its imprisonment to copy her equally silent friend. "We don't want to be molded."

Her eyes settle on the space where Venom's explanation took place, the words having hit a chord within the smaller woman. A solid minute of nothing, then: "When... I first got here, I met Aya. The mul'neissa you saw at the guild that vanished in shadow. She taught me I had to learn what I didn't want to be. I don't want to be useless," she gestures the last word firmly, eyes steeling as her lips purse. "You're... right. You're very, very right, Ven-" she catches herself before fully forming the name sign, "V." Simply the letter. "We're only just now figuring out how to get out of that mold, and to break it, to figure out who we really are." <Handspeech>

Venom looks rather puzzled by Aryia's choice in self stifling, even as she finishes her statement. That feeling holds as Aryia's expression shifts, embers of concern flickering in her eyes before that hand emerges to break the 'silence'.

She hadn't been mistaken, then.

That's good.

She nods at her first declaration, a certain subtle relief taking to her own features, but she makes no movement, no sound, to interupt as Aryia expresses herself more fully.

She says good things.

The unveiled Acanian's face, thoughtful now, and intent, eases into warm amusement at the hesitation on her name. When all her words are spoke, 'Venessa's hand alights on Aryia's again, lifts and pats twice.

"We're past the most important steps." a pause, "The first."

The deluge of words expressed how she felt in more ways than one, and it was a a rare time where all the words she wanted to say were actually communicated, comprehended, and understood fully and wholly. Hence, the fidgeting ceased, and Aryia gently smiles again, enough to show hints of her vacant back teeth.

She turns her hand over, growing more confident in herself as she gives a slow nod. The hand raises, and she speaks in the low hiss at the same time.

"Th- f-rst st-p s always the hardest, b-t I th-nk, b-tw-n you and I, we b-th c-n g-t f-rth-r th-n we have thought we could g-t before." <Tradespeak/Handspeech>

She beams.

Venom finds herself in a somewhat awkward position, trying to read the signs and her friend's lips as she starts to speak her mind, affirming her worth, their worth. Her previous concern about discomfort is... somewhere in there, but her expression is the intent side of serene, a warmth there.

As she finishes, the broken blade considers the scarred woman and smiles in turn to her, thinking aloud, "I think you're right." as a soft declaration of fact.

Aryia does rub at her throat once she was done hissing out her conjoined message, but didn't seem bothered by the twinge of pain that was starting to build. It got the point across. The mul gives a sharp nod and a satisfied smirk. There's a comfortable silence as the world goes on around them in the inn.

"If..." the elf starts, a pinky on the side of her face. "You're ever wanting to hang out. I'm usually here before dawn or at night. I sleep here usually. It's close to work." <Handspeech>

Venom has that ember of concern rekindled at the move Aryia makes toward her throat, her lips parting before a question that doesn't go any further. Their thoughts on the matter are known and she takes the smirk in turn and matches it with her own. A nod to accompany, and she again goes still as Aryia speaks, reading her signs and replying in kind, "I'd like that, thank you."

She looks around at the pub, considering again after Aryia reveals her residency and she laughs a little, a touch embarassed at offering comfort where her friend already lays her head. A naked response, one that takes some moments to pause and she shrugs, "I didn't know you were staying here." she confesses.

Aryia giggles, staccato of breath hidden behind a hand. "You never asked," she gestures with an amused smile. "Think of something we can do then.I know you and I could use a day of something normal." She picks up her cup, closing an eye to stare into the bottom of it before knocking the bottom against the table a few time to collect the last drops. Aryia cleans it out and stands. "And V."

She leans forward, over the table and scooping up one of Venom's hands, a soft expression pulling her lips upwards. "Thank you as well." <Handspeech>

Venom nods a touch of color at her cheeks and she nods, flashing a quick sign of, "True." <handspeech>

She gets a little more introspective as the concept of 'something normal' that they could do together is broached. She hasn't... a lot of experience with that.

This will definately take some thought.

And observation.

The Acanian nods, "I'll think on it." she says aloud, reaching for her own cup for a sip.

As Aryia stands, she looks up to the Mul'niessa, eyes going from her face to her hand as it takes her own, almost missing the start of her response.

She swallows and briefly encompasses the hand between hers and smiless, then, "You're welcome."