It was past noon when the first villagers saw an old rider ambling up the road on a draft as large as he was. He bobbed in the saddle, offering one a nod and a casual smile as he passed, and doing much the same to any eyes that had trouble becoming unstuck from the stranger. A red sash and longcoat would’ve gone unnoticed here, the rider told himself, but perhaps the hilt of the curved sword had aroused the curiosity of the simple folk of whatever village this was. He’d been through so many, and as he watched happenings as his horse clopped past, this one was much the same as them all. It was a short ride from the first houses to the stable of the… [i]Loyal Hound[/i] he read on the swaying sign outside of the establishment. A young man burst into activity at the sight of him, snapping to attention from the crate he sat on and peering up to meet the rider’s gaze at the top of his seat in the saddle. The rider offered a small smile, “S’there room?” The lad only nodded, and that was enough for the rider to clamber down from the saddle, still standing a head or two taller than the short lad. “Vodevic.” The rider spoke. “That your name, sir?” The rider stifled a chuckle, “It’s the horse’s. He won’t listen to you unless you use it.” The rider hooked a thumb in his sash and sucked his teeth, “Hells, might not listen anyway.” “Uh…” the lad held Vodevic’s stirrups in a limp fist, looking like he was within five feet of a sabercat and not a steed. “Janus.” “Huh?” The lad whipped his head to look at the rider. “That one’s mine.” Janus smirked, offering out an open hand upon which gleamed three gold coins laying in his wide palm, “And these’re yours.” “Oh.” The lad carefully plucked them from Janus’ waiting palm and clicked his tongue for Vodevic to follow him. The old warhorse did, must’ve been in a good mood, Janus thought as he watched them close distance to the stables. “Oh, shit.” Janus picked up a good pace and the lad almost flinched with the big man bearing down on him. Janus only reached over the lad’s shoulder to the curved shape and withdraw the long knife and an axe into his sash as well, reaching for a saddlebag too before pausing just short. He decided against fetching the bottle of wine, what was a few more coins for a drink at the bar, “Thank ye.” He left the lad with a wink and went for the front door, pushing it open and finding a place near the hearth to do as he always did, clocking every interesting person, threatening aura, and even the simpler folk for good measure. Like he always did. Just in case. And then wait for someone to take notice of his weapons, ask him if he knew how to use them, and then ask him if he could teach them to use theirs. And also hope he didn’t have to do that. Once he had a mug of ale in his hands, he did his best to be a lazy do-nothing, listening to the soft plucking of whatever song this was as he stared into the flames. A soft smile played on his lips as he remembered other hearths in other places with other people to the tune of the tavern bard’s playing. [i]”Come gather in my lungs, oh Skyrim wind, Belt out your blackest poems, As the sea around you sings, When that gulp takes to the air, A single note to raise my hair, Carry songs beyond my lungs, cold Skyrim wind…”[/i] The last verse of her song went down with delight for the Nords settled in the back of the tavern, three mugs were raised, the contents sloshing over the pewter rims. Laughter and even a whistle rang out for the song for the blessed province - more so for the Nord woman who carried the lyrics on her soft voice, gentle vibrato - and still an emotional swell for the homeland. Joy supposed she had worked for shy of an hour, and already she was parched - her fingers ached from the precise strum and pluck of the lute. It would be time for the lyre after a short break and a drink. Snatching up her own cider, she hopped down from the bar and swayed between each table and chair to find herself by the fire. With a long gulp of her drink, she felt sweet relief to her vocal chords. Her hands too, then found their way before the fire to warm them, to shake out the stiffness of her fingers. She crouched down to her haunches, and felt the warmth rush over her, turning her head to face the [i]incredibly large[/i] gentleman sat beside it. “Good day to you, Sir,” she chirped politely. Joy paid close attention to his eyes, most of all. “Long day is it?” she smiled up at him, trying to draw his attention to whatever his mind was, or wasn’t fussed with. She squinted curiously, before pulling her blue eyes from his own to glance at the equipment he had brought with him. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those since I came this far east, a [i]long[/i] day.” Janus mused, eyes still stuck on the fire before they slid Joy’s way sidelong, accompanied with his telltale easy smirk, “But a good one? Maybe.” He took a gulp of his ale and looked to the bard, offering her his face in full this time, “I liked the song. Reminds me of home.” Janus said, smile widening a hair, “I’ll put a few septims towards your cup if you play another like it.” “Hmmm,” Joy hummed out, biting the corner of her lip just so. “What was it I wonder, that made your day [i]maybe[/i] good?,” she followed on, hoping that maybe the gentleman had a story to tell - he seemed the type to have many. He didn’t entirely look like he was a native of Skyrim, but Joy had learned long ago that appearances were deceptive. She had learned too that Skyrim belonged to those who took in her spirit and perhaps this gentleman had that in his blood indeed. At the mention of a request of sorts, she smirked, turning away from him to stare into the fire again. “Don’t tell me that you’re waiting for me to play Ragnar the Red now?” Joy chuckled playfully, rubbing her hands together. Janus chuckled softly and shook his head, “No, no. I’ve had my fill of that song long ago. Probably half the reason I left Skyrim.” He smacked his lips and shifted in his chair, watching as Joy took him in, as people oft did in new towns. He didn’t mind it, especially if the stares weren’t followed by threats or insults. “As for my day,” he began, “I ain’t dead, my horse is good and fed, a drink in my hand now. The only thing that’d make it any better is if you told me you were good company.” He cocked a brow at the bard, easy smile, “Y’are, ain’t you?” Having an invitation for conversation from the man, she turned herself from the fire, and let her bottom touch the floor, legs tucked beneath comfortably. “I could say I’ve made my trade in being good company,” Joy disclosed, smiling back just as easily. Holding that pause, she reached again for her drink, taking a steady sip of the last of it. “You like your simple comforts, don’t you?” She asked, having heard his words, and observed his calm manner. “The man with the most has the most to lose.” Janus shrugged, taking the last of his ale in one gulp and swallowing hard, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand, “Be happy with the simple and life has a harder time taking it from you. Ain’t a man alive can snap his fingers and make ale and wine disappear, roads sink back to the earth, shady trees fly away, and music lose its rhythm.” “And here I’ve had all four in the same day.” Janus tucked a hand behind his head and sunk down deeper into his chair, “Pretty damn rich, if I say so. Days could be a little longer though, you ask me.” “That’s quite a philosophy you have,” Joy commented, narrowing her eyes in thought. “I have seen many stumble over the pursuit of riches, only to lose what they had all along... A tale as old as time itself, perhaps.” The woman was watching his hands, and the empty tankard that found its way down to the table. “Man may not snap his fingers, but he sure can make his ale disappear,” she chuckled. Joy too, leaned back ever so slightly beside the fire, a relaxed expression crossed her features and she found herself drawn to the window, the creeping darkness. “Mmm,” she hummed in agreement. “A strange affair, isn’t it? These are the days of night it seems… I’m glad to have found the Innkeep kind enough to let me stay, I’d be out in the thick of it otherwise,” she sighed solemnly. “I don’t have a blade like you do, you see,” Joy remarked with a shrug, admiring the man’s goods all the while. “A strange affair I’ve chosen not to concern myself with. You know the history of our great continent, it’ll be solved tomorrow by some big-headed Hero.” Janus smirked as he scooted his feet a bit closer to the fire, “Why is it my keeping of sharp metal makes you want for some of your own?” The woman scoffed at that, “oh, Sir, please. If I were to pick up a sword. A sword like that -- no less... I’d be far more likely to hurt myself. I do not wish for one, but I can surely admire it, no?” Her head tilted to the side. “For what is a sword but an instrument of a different kind? I have my lute and my lyre, my hands are more suited for those.” She gave a respectful nod in his direction. “But I believe that a good swordsman can make music and dance with a sword just as well as I can with my strings.” Once more she gazed at the curved hilt of his sword, biting the corner of her lip again. “I wonder what kind of music it is... That you create.” “Hopefully none anymore.” Janus said simply, his easy smile faltering for a moment before it regained its strength, “Your music’s pretty. There’s a reason people gather in taverns to hear it and children don’t get lulled to sleep by two bastards hacking each other’s arms off, you’ll notice.” “Well… When you put it that way,” Joy said, lowering her eyes to the floor momentarily. In her defense, Janus had the same outlook once upon a time. When sword fights were only in the songs and only the good men won. It took a little while longer before he knew that there were a dearth of good men winning sword fights, and even a more barren loss for good reasons for them to try at it. A waste of time, poking a man to death for naught else than he was trying to do it to you. Weren’t no dance and music when he was doing it. “I teach.” Janus said looking to Joy, “If you ever want to learn to, uh... dance. As you put it. Maybe I could know your name first, I like to know who I’m sharing good company with.” “Maybe I’ll take you up on it, should either of us stick around long enough,” she replied, running a hand through her hair to tuck back the stray strands behind her ear. “My name is Joy,” she answered, reaching towards him with an outstretched hand — since neither of them had any drink left to toast with. “Janus.” He closed the distance between their hands and his gloved one near-enveloped hers. He returned it to his empty mug and spoke again, “So, you’re a wanderer? Place to place, never too long?” “Nice to meet you Janus,” she smiled, shaking his hand. She watched as her own all but disappeared into his. “I’m a wanderer now,” Joy said with a slight shrug. “I wasn’t always. Now I’m looking for a place to call my own again,” smiling faintly, she turned the question back to her new friend with an inquisitive tilt of her head. “Are you away from your home… On business? Or are you a wanderer too?” Janus puffed out his cheeks and blew the air out, wondering how to answer the question. It had been years since he’d had a steady home. “I wander, looking for a place to settle, maybe. Or maybe I just ain’t ready to.” He shrugged, “Haven’t figured that one out.” “I’m sure you know what you want deep down, you just have to listen to that voice inside,” Joy mused, slowly starting to stand back up now. “You see that man there?” She asked Janus, pointing to Solomon and Sirius where they sat. “The one with the [i]sour face[/i]?” Jokingly, she turned back to the Imperial with an overly glum expression too. “I’m trying to convince him to let me settle here… If he was as open to conversation as you are, it would have been done already.” The woman pouted, and pulled her lips to the side. “I should get back to it. If you’re still around end of night, buy you a drink?” She leaned cooly against the fireplace, resting her head against a closed fist. “Or I’ll buy you one.” He smiled to Joy and immediately went back to lounging, “Thank you for the chat, Joy. Was a pleasure.”