cliffs, south of the rose
roalis 67, 2719 ❁ late morning
It was a nice day to do nothing, but an even nicer one to go for a walk. Although he had never been particularly bothered by the heat, it was different here, more humid; it sunk into his skin but wasn't uncomfortable, saved by the cool breezes that drifted in off of the sea. He enjoyed it, he'd decided, he liked the rosy tint it brought to his cheeks and the energy that the warmth brought him, as if compelling him to get out and enjoy the sun before it left.
Lars Savatier had become a man of expensive desires but often found simple delights nonetheless. The sun was enough, the clouds were enough, the breeze that swayed white waves over his shoulders was enough. It wasn't the end goal, it wasn't the next thing that he could profit off of, but it was a clocking nice day and he it was easy to resign himself to the outdoors, leaving the little apartment early in the morning and taking off for a walk around the harbor.
Unsurprising as it was to find the streets already filled with people, likely wanting to get the most out of the day just like himself, he wasn't in the mood to slip through crowded paths and get bumped into by every passing human, wick, galdor - so it was with an open mind that the passive took off in a new direction, arms swinging gently at his sides as he walked.
As slow a transition as it was, he truly felt as if he was starting to fit in, in the city. He looked about as much like any kind of pirate as the Hessean really could, off-white shirt half-buttoned and probably a size too big, loose on his skinny frame but tucked partially (half-heartedly) into dark trousers. With his hair pushed back and away from his face, it left his ears visible, and put the recently-acquired earrings on display as they reflected the morning sun back at the sky. If only he had a mirror, he could've gawked at the massive shift his appearance had taken on in only a month - but he supposed he really didn't need one when he had his shadow at his side to constantly remind him.
"Where is it we're going?" it questioned, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a worn-out blue uniform as he walked.
"I'm not sure," he shrugged a shoulder, "outside of the city."
"I've heard there's only cliffs to the south."
"To the cliffs, then."
"You do enjoy doing the opposite of what I want, don't you?"
The corner of his mouth curved upward into a smirk, and he threw a glance to the blonde, neglecting to verbalize his answer. Both of them knew he didn't need to.
It took a bit longer for him to get out of the city proper, still somewhat unfamiliar with the neighborhoods he hadn't frequented as often, but soon enough he reached the beach, and took a moment to stare out into land and sea before him. Before he'd made it to the Rose, he wasn't sure if he'd even seen sand, not nearly as much of it at least. It smooshed outward and down beneath his shoes like water, benevolent but almost worrisome nonetheless. He wondered what it'd take to sink beneath this sand, how much pressure one needed to enforce, how far down one could actually go before the ground refused any more of them. It was a useless question to ponder, but he was ever-curious about all the things that the long-term residents of the harbor never gave a second thought.
There was just so much of the world he didn't understand, so many things he'd never seen, and even more that he'd never even heard of. He'd known other servants to become enraptured with their books, clinging to other parts of the world that they couldn't experience for real, but that they could at least learn about, at least imagine. Perhaps if he'd had the skill he would've done the same, but he was certain that their books couldn't capture the full truth of any of those places. No descriptions of Old Rose Harbor and the surrounding areas could've compared to being here now and breathing in the salty air. No, he wanted to see things for real.
Mind still distracted, he was startled when the sand gave way to rock, the passive looking up from his entranced stare at his shoes and letting his eyes take in his surroundings. Here - the cliffs had escaped his notice but they were here, their structures imposing and new and beautiful all at once, but again they shifted from his mind when he noticed something else. Someone else.
"Leave it be," warned the man behind him, though Lars didn't bother turning around to dignify the gentle command, "we don't want to get into any more trouble. Let's just turn around and find a tavern, yeah?" He hoped he wasn't giving the blonde hope by remaining still and not approaching the rock wall yet - he was just contemplating why a familiar face would be out here, too, climbing these cliffs.
Aremu looked at home out here, comfortable in the sun and in his solitude, and Lars thought for a moment not to disturb it, not to inject himself into the man's day. He doubted that the other man disliked him, per say, but he couldn't think of a reason for him to really want him to approach, either. As the man reached the top of the wall again and pulled himself over, Lars made up his mind, and began to find his way around and upward, not daring to try scaling the cliff himself - he might've been a bit dimwitted for trying to speak with Aremu again at all, but he wasn't entirely moony and didn't enjoy the thought of falling onto the rocks.
With soft steps he made his way around, however didn't come close to the other passive, not just yet. Lars kept his distance, sitting down in the grass himself as he looked out to where Aremu lie. He pulled his legs up a bit, arms hanging loosely about his knees.
"...Aremu?" he addressed, sure to keep his voice soft as he could manage in fear of startling the man, "it's beautiful, out here. I - sorry, should I leave?" there went any confidence he'd had about fitting in around here - it was quickly that the former servant could retreat into himself in these situations, still not used to drawing attention to himself rather than pushing it always and forever away. It still felt wrong, even if it was exhilarating at times, to call out to someone and disturb them rather than fade into the background until needed. It was difficult, even for Lars, to keep the concern from his expression at these times.
Lars had been right, gods he always was, wasn't he? He should've turned around and went back into the city, and spent the day in whatever tavern had the cheapest drinks. That could've kept the extra and unwanted warmth from his shoulders, tinted pink beneath his shirt, and it would've been easy. Easy was good.