Learning Their Ways

[Nasrin the Wolverine Warrior]

The city was loud and confusing. How could anyone live here like this? The buildings were cramped together and immovable; so many people gathered in the streets that it was difficult to walk through, even breathe at times; relentless merchants called out to the tribeswoman, trying to get her to buy something from them. Would they not just get the hint and shut up already? Nasrin was almost to her breaking point, and she had only been in Spirit for a few minutes. If this kept up... well, there were would be less people in the streets, at least.

Hazel eyes snapped around the place.
Daemons, shapeshifters, humans, and fae - all in one place, and all seeming to get along for the most part. Well enough, at least, to live within the same borders together. Honestly, Nasrin wasn't sure how they did it, but she had been raised to only trust those of the Wolverine Tribe.

Finally, her eyes landed on the man next to her, the one who had been her guide to this atrocious place. She had asked to come here, however, so she couldn't be angry with him for it. Gabriel, leader of the daemons, was her guide. How she had managed to recruit the most powerful daemon in Litharia to be her guide, for free no less, Nasrin would never truly understand. Not that she wasn't grateful. However, she would never admit to the man that she was grateful to him; she was too stubborn and prideful to even consider such a thing.

"So, Gabriel, we're finally here. It's stuffy. I don't like it. How can they live like this?" she asked, wondering if he had anything to enlighten her on the subject. Perhaps she would simply have to ask one of them eventually.

[Gabriel Jhaedaes Os Tar]

Gabriel Jhaedaes Os Tar loved the City. The noise, the crowds, the scents and sights; Spirit was as much his home as the Forest of Litharia. He surveyed the street with cold, impassive eyes though a faint half smile decorated his features, and the very act of simply being a Daemon was enough to make the crush bearable. Other creatures carefully left a berth of a metre or so around Gabriel, instinctively avoiding bumping in to a Daemon. The fact the he was taller than most of the crowd helped, too, and he was clearly very comfortable here.

Nasrin, on the other hand, looked like she was about to snap and stab someone at any minute.
Apparantly she was having trouble getting used to the change.
"It's overwhelming at first, if you're not used to the crowds. But I love this place; Daemons are chaotic creatures, naturally attracted to sources of more chaos. The noise, the smells, the endless variations in other individuals...the energy is almost tangible, can almost be assimilated. I find it invigorating."
He smiled briefly as Nasrin, although he didn't expect her to suddenly become comfortable simply because he already was. First step, offload that skull so Nasrin would have some of the currency used here - Gabriel had certain talents that helped his own survival, but Nasrin should feel equipped to go off on her own should she so desire to.

"The collector I spoke of earlier lives in the slums. It won't take me long to find him." Gabriel grabbed Nasrin's arm and began to weave through the crowd; it was easy to get lost here and he had a feeling several dead locals would be the result of him losing the edgy, uneasy warrior. And he spoke the truth, letting go of Nasrin as he picked a familiar alley lined with smoky shops and crumbling private residences.

A non-descript wooden door was his choice. Gabriel rapped sharply on it and spoke softly in the native Daemon tongue, and within a minute or so it was flung open to emit a short, extremely old Shifter onto the street.
"My friend here may have something that interests you."[/font]

[Nasrin the Wolverine Warrior]

Overwhelming indeed.

Nasrin couldn’t but snort at Gabriel’s comment, folding her arms over her chest. People walked by her, getting far too close for comfort. However, they kept away from the daemon, probably because he was a daemon. She edged close to the daemon lord, pleased with the effects she received – a clearer area around her body.

Hazel eyes flicked to the daemon.
Collector. Right.
She had actually forgotten about the skull, which she had tied to her hip with some string considering she had no where else to hold it. Vaguely, she wondered how people viewed her right now – a dangerous, tall, obviously tribal woman with a spear, dagger, and the skull of a Dream Hound attached to her hip. The thought made her chuckle.

..What was Gabriel doing?

His hand had clamped around her arm, and he was dragging her through the throng of people. Immediately, her irritation level shot up. Very few that didn’t belong to her tribe had touched her and lived. The daemon was honestly lucky that Nasrin didn’t totally hate him, thanks to his abilities and his willingness to be her guide, and that she had already pegged him as a tough fight. Otherwise, the woman may have tried to hack his hand off for daring to touch her. As it happened, she allowed him to lead her. However, the moment they arrived, she ripped her arm away from the daemon and gave him a look. “Don’t touch me,” she half-spoke, half-hissed.

And then her irritation seemed to be gone.
Nasrin was known for her temper within her tribe.

Her eyes flicked to the shifter that exited the house at the daemon’s request, immediately removing the skull from her hip and holding it out to the collector. The woman had no idea how much it was worth, so it was very likely that she could be conned out of more gold than she should get. Unless Gabriel chose to haggle for her, that is.

[Gabriel Jhaedaes Os Tar]

Gabriel was about to open his mouth to speak to the collector he'd apparantly awoken, if the man's dishevelled appearance was anything to go by, when he found himself soundly berated by Nasrin for the physical contact. So he'd been right before, to avoid any kind of natural closeness.
He chuckled under his breath though stifled it quickly. It was rude, he knew, but he simply couldn't help it. Nasrin was amusing - not in a derisive way, but in an intriguing way.
"Once again we find our customs clashing, I see," the Daemon grinned, raising a brow at the warrior and crossing his arms loosely over his chest.
"Your tribe must be more isolated than I'd guess. Don't you know that physical closeness is welcomed, even cherished, among forest dwellers? And yet here you are, an apparant forest dweller, so different from other humans and somehow far more like them than I'd have guessed - but only in the oddest of ways."

Still smiling, Gabriel turned his attention back to the collector, who was still rubbing his eyes and grumbling under his breath.
"Dream Hound skull. You and I know exactly what it is worth; I trust you won't be trying to short-change my friend here?"
The Shifter merely shook his head, counted out several gold pieces and thrust them as Nasrin, then snatched the skull and scurried back inside. He never once looked directly at Gabriel - seemed he knew a little about Daemonic charms, and didn't wish to risk falling under some spell. He'd dealt with Gabriel before, no doubt.

"The coins break up into several smaller denominations, and what you have there should last weeks if you intend to purchase only food and board. Of course, Spirit is full of vendors selling endless interesting trinkets too, and you have enough to buy a few if you don't go too mad looking for anything excessively valuable. Though I continue to offer my services as a guide, you are now equipped to survive here on your own if you choose." Gabriel smiled again, beginning to wander back towards the crowds.

"I'll refrain from leading you again since you objected so strongly last time, so long as you promise to refrain from snapping and killing someone. Their may be no authorities here but people will respond violently to violence. And you have to admit, you're rather uptight...in fact, why don't I buy you a drink? We could both do with a little relaxation, don't you agree?" Gabriel's natural charm was, for a moment, more evident than ever. He was supremely relaxed, self confident, as natural here in the slums of Spirit as among the trees.[/font]

[Nasrin the Wolverine Warrior]

Like she had done so many times before, Nasrin stared the daemon lord down. He kept referencing how similar yet different she – and her tribe – was from the humans. A group of humans that were a blend between human behavior and daemon behavior; she wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she and her tribe shared similar traits with the fae and shapeshifters.

“Intimacy is only a thing shared between tribesmen. You are an outsider, so you don’t get the privilege. I will never understand why you would willingly allow strangers to touch you – isn’t it more logical to become close, blood brothers in a way, before you allowed them such a privilege?” the woman asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Her eyes stayed attached to the charming daemon for a few moments longer, but then her attention was snagged by the collector as he thrust money into her palm and snatched the skull from her hands. A part of her wanted to grip the skull tightly, to keep the trophy she had earned, but Nasrin reluctantly let it go. She would need the gold pieces to survive in this city.

Silently, the wild woman followed Gabriel.
As she walked, she stared down at the gold pieces, wondering why it was worth so much to the city dwellers. But, Nasrin had decided that she would never understand these outsiders, so it wasn’t worth trying to figure out.

”Why don’t I buy you a drink?”

Alcohol?
A small smirk formed on her lips. “If it’s alcohol you are suggesting, I wouldn’t mind. However, our tribe brews a very… potent form of what ‘normal’ humans drink. I doubt anything here would do much.” Her arrogant tribe nature was showing, but the woman honestly didn’t care. She would boast about her tribe as much as she wanted.

[Gabriel Jhaedaes Os Tar]

Gabriel wound his way unhurriedly through the throngs of people, sensitive Daemon hearing more than adequate for the task of picking out Nasrin's voice from among the clamour. He knew where he was going, clearly familiar with every chaotic street, and indeed recognised by many people they passed. Most simply nodded or smiled, a few clasped his hand briefly in passing greeting though they didn't try and stop him to talk. The Daemon Lord, after all, was frequently busy, and unless they had important news they wouldn't go so far as to take up his time. He wondered idly if Nasrin would consider such greetings offensive too, but to a Daemon such as himself it was unfathomable to reject physical contact.

Gabriel found his way into a dimly lit, half-empty tavern and took a seat at the bar, as well as offering one to Nasrin, before he replied to her question. It was quieter and calmer in here as the regulars of this particular tavern were late-night types - plenty of other Daemons, including vampires, perhaps a few Fae. Humans and Shifters on the other hand tended to steer clear.
"Physical contact is just another aspect of communication, as vital as speaking," Gabriel explained with a casual shrug.
"Most of us feel very isolated away from the regular contact of others of our kind. And although Daemons are first and foremost loyal to our own kind, our numbers and diversity prevent such close ties as your tribe shares from linking all of us...no, physical contact is the domain of the forest dwellers, just another way to learn more about those you interact with. Humans, on the other hand, expressly forbid it except between married couples. You can see how such polarity might seem odd to someone like me, though I can understand that your rules are motivated by loyalty." The Daemon glanced around; they would be left fairly alone here, hopefully. Though most of the patrons would know who he was they either wouldn't care or wouldn't see any need to interrupt them. Perhaps here, away from the crowds, Nasrin would be able to relax.

"As for your tolerance, which I have absolutely no doubt surpasses that of any regular human, we'll just say it's lucky you're drinking with a Daemon." Gabriel grinned widely, the delicate pointed fangs common to all of his race flashing into view. It was a grin of wicked indulgence, of hedonistic pleasure.
"If you don't have any preferences then I think my usual will be closer to your tastes. It is an invention of Calandra's, my deputy, and potent as Daemons as old and powerful as her and myself probably don't even have the ability to get drunk." Two large clear glasses appeared before them, the bartender knowing of Gabriel and his preferences.

"Cheers."[/font]

[Nasrin the Wolverine Warrior]

Well, obviously many knew of the daemon lord. Nasrin watched curiously at the greetings he was offered, which were remarkably similar to the greetings the Wolverine Leader received from his or her tribesmen. Of course, the woman didn't comment on it.

Following Gabriel into the tavern, she paused long enough to glance around the establishment and at the people inside. It was a common occurrence with her - scoping out any possible threats. When none struck her, Nasrin moved toward her daemon companion and took the offered seat, but not before she removed the spear from her back and laid it next to the bar. If they didn't like it, they could complain and see what happened. Her eyes flicked to Gabriel as he spoke. "Hm. Again my tribe has similar traits to both the forest-dwellers and the city-dwellers," the woman mused, resting her elbows on the counter in front of her.

Nasrin quirked an eyebrow at the daemon.
An alcohol created by the daemon deputy?
Well, she would certainly have to try this.
Taking the glass in her hand, the woman took a large drink. She had never been known to do anything lightly. However, Nasrin regretted her decision the moment the liquid started to sear down her throat, telling her that this stuff was even stronger than what she was used to. Grimacing slightly, she set the glass down and looked to Gabriel. "It's certainly strong... Stronger than what we have, even."

[Gabriel Jhaedaes Os Tar]

It was clear that Gabriel was at home here, comfortable and completely at ease. Amid the heavy wreaths of smoke and faded decor he managed to look like he belonged somewhat despite the pale silver of his moonstone skin being sharply accentuated here in the dimness. When completely relaxed he became noticeably more Daemonic in appearance; his eyes brightened, his body temperature increased and his teeth and claws lengthened, though not as much as they would do when he was threatened or angry. The aura of arrogant invincibility, of unshakable self-confidence, was more pronounced - as too were his hypnotic qualities; the timbre of his voice, the scent of honey and roses. It seemed that when he was around others he was more restrained than his true nature, probably in an effort to seem more normal, less alien, less inherently threatening. Here, even subconsciously, he felt no need to keep anything hidden.

Gabriel grinned widely as Nasrin took her first taste of Daemon-quality liquor; it was a potent brew even for his kind, and her expression quickly informed him that even her tribal alcohol was more drinkable than his. He sipped his own a little more slowly, relishing the sharp burn and clear taste. Daemon's in general had a high tolerance; Gabriel himself seemed thus far relatively immune to the effects of alcohol, although he had not taken the liberty of testing that fact. It was a poison after all, and over-indulgence was absolutely not the way a Daemon Lord should meet his end.
"I did warn you," he chuckled, thoroughly enjoying her reaction.
"High tolerance or not, this stuff can loosen even my tongue. And further questions? You may as well continue your mission while we drink, lest your tribe members accuse you of slacking off when you regale them with tales of drinking with a Daemon."