Travis
*It had been a long time since Almann had taken an honest stroll, free of a mission, and free of charge. He was able to do what he wanted, when he wanted to. As the fresh Salvainian air pierced his nose, and the smell of a newly fallen dew gave the air a sweet tang, he took a walk.

Almann had been staying at one of his favorite Inns, The Tired Giant, for the past few days. It was off the main roads of Salvainia, so not many travelers would come by. It would mean less trouble for him in the long run. As he makes his way off the beaten path away from The Tired Giant, he finds a moss covered log to sit on.

Taking out his rosewood smoker, he gently packs some of his newly acquired imports into the pipe. Almann had waited to get a hold of the Hoboxian Smokeleaf for a long time, and at this point he had honed his skills, learning how to keep the coals of the fuel nice and warm to fill his lungs with that familiar comfort and rush. He had alcohol too of course, but it was too early in the day for drinking.

Almann gently sucks in the smoke, holds in for a few breaths, and gently lets out the smoke from his nostrils. Immediately he could tell this Smokeleaf was the real deal. The flavor of it was nothing Almann had experienced before. It was going to be a good day, he thought. 

Almann closes his eye and leans back a little to take in the sounds of the wilds around him, all the while smoking his pipe with great care to get every last puff of smoke out of the expensive import as he could.*
Antoinette
*Unbeknownst to Almann, a certain kitsune would also have been taking a good walk throughout the wilds. She paced throughout the grass, her footsteps sending bits of nighttime dew scattering across her legs and cloak. She abandoned her set of armor a couple days ago, keeping it within her pack she left on her air strider. It was due to the fact that she realized it hadn't done much good to her as a source of protection. While it certainly did its job when she engaged in close quarters combat, her fighting style changed along with her person - she'd have to adapt, improvise, and abandon her old ways.*

*She took a long inhale, breathing in the cool air around her. The scents of the forest - Wet leaves, animal leftovers, the lingering scent of her air strider's feathers, the like - permeated throughout her nostrils, the piercing freshness cutting apart the drab, muddled thoughs that plagued her mind nowadays. It was literally a breath of fresh air; she wouldn't be able to have this sort of serenity in any other setting.*

*It gave her time to reflect on what happened in the past few days, her mind drifting back to her duel against that fire macen, Katherine. In honesty, she didn't know why that entire ordeal had bothered her so; Perhaps it was because she had made a resolve to alter her manner of dealing with such ordeals, yet immediately had to go back on that self-promise she made.*

*While the situation hadn't brought on any wounds to her person, it certaintly erupted a conflict in her mind. A part of her was controlled by the fact that she did what was necessary; the girl wouldn't back off because she didn't know about the difference in their strengths. Or rather, she knew, yet refused to back down due to foolhardy heroism. Of course she couldn't help the fact that she had to put the macen in her place, right? In Artoria's mind, fear eventually led to some form of respect - in this case, it would be respect towards how far apart the two were in power, and would hopefully lead to Katherine giving up on trying to catch the fox ever again.*

*Yet, it still bit at her that she went about the entire situation wrong. In those moments where the macen had laid on the ground, squashed below her feet like an insect, was it truly necessary to have her suffer through hell itself while she was already down? Even though she tried to stand back on her feet to fight again? Thoughts about what she could've done differently had begun to invade Artoria's mind, rhythimically arriving as she crunched her way through the forest.*

*"If I truly valued her life, I would've knocked her out or something," She thought to herself, scowling.*

*"Do I really just... Enjoy seeing people writhe below me? Is that who I am?"*

*She didn't know. Empathy wasn't something she was familiarized with. Her life, as it stood, was a neverending spiral downhill; her only choice, it would seem, was to keep following it down. To put it plainly? It sucked.*

*She stopped, catching the whiff of smoke on the wind. Her head turned towards the east, the night vision granted to her by her magical amulet allowing her to make out the figure of a macen in the distance. He was leaning back against something, looking like he was enjoying himself dearly. His serene posture refreshed Artoria's mind, clearing her thoughts once more. She found herself drawn to his relaxed attitude, so casually and quietly, she walked towards his direction as the smell of smoke became more evident as she approached.*

*When she got close, she found herself becoming anxious. This was the first genuine contact she had with an actual person in weeks - no, months! As she got closer, her mind became cluttered with ideas for how to strike up a conversation. Tens of different variations of "Whats up?" And even more "Nice weather, right?" Caused her mind to become addled...*

*And she tripped over a bush, falling flat on her face right out of the brush next to the macen man.*
Travis
*Almann picked up the exceptionally feint rustling in the foliage the moment she fell. It startled him even, he usually senses people at much longer distances with his hearing. Whatever it was, he could tell it would interrupt his smoke. Perhaps an animal? Something else? Who knew. Nothing much would surprise him anymore, but hopefully whatever it was it could hold a conversation.

Almann was simply jaded with reality. Nothing satiated his longing for decent recompense with this world. Gold, drink, smoke, violence... Nothing allowed him to forget what he'd done. Nothing entertains him as he seeks penance for the sins he committed along the border of the Irtutian League in the peace and quiet of the Salvainian wilds. He felt the eye patch over his right eye, a reminder of the high elves who got him into these conflicts in the first place through his hatred of them.

He glanced to his left, and to his surprise it was a kitsune. A familiar one at that...

He didn't let the de ja vu occupy his mind for long. Instead he focused on not chucking a Bronze Lance at the stranger. Normally he never let his guard down.

Perhaps, if just for a moment, he didn't immediately raise his guard to the clumsy kitsune who had stealthily walked her way to his perch, he'd receive an interesting conversation. Could the one time he lets down his guard towards a stranger lead to his death? Maybe, but Almann was sure he'd feel more fulfilled with this new type of response than the go-to for the past two years. It was something new, and Almann was ready for whatever was to come. 

Perhaps being cordial to a kitsune is what he needed to atone. He had been involved in the slave trade of their kind before.

Almann simply chuckles, turns towards the kitsune, and gives a warm grin.*

"You're a quiet one aren't you? Clumsy too. Sit."

*He gestures to an open spot on the log.*
Antoinette
*...Fuck.*

*First off, falling face first into the ground definitely didn't give off a good first impression; as she lay flat against the earthen floor, she could feel her blood pumping towards her cheeks, warming them up despite her status as a vampire. She didn't have to even look at a mirror to tell that she was turning red with embarassment; at once, she fixed herself into an informal seiza, brushing the dirt off of her cloak and thighs. The fox whipped her head opposite of the macen man, a troubled grin forming due to the anxiousness and embarassment she felt in the situation. She became flooded with shame; in her childhood, she was used to people seeing her as a proper, model child of an aristocratic family - not some clumsy, airheaded dimwit.*

*She was amidst her thoughts when she heard a chuckle, followed by the man speaking. "You're a quiet one, aren't you?" He said. The deep, resounding voice of his struck a bell in the fox's mind; Artoria knew that voice from somewhere, yet couldn't pinpoint exactly where it had come from. "Clumsy too. Sit."*

*Ahh, there it was. She was called 'clumsy'... Shameful, wasn't it? As if the awkward silence prior to his invitation wasn't embarassing enough, being called clumsy by a stranger was even more humiliating. She glanced back at the man, then quickly turned back to face the other direction as her eyes met his. God... This was just a disaster, wasn't it? Normally she'd act cool and composed, but given how things were, she obviously couldn't transition from 'trembling nervous wreck' into... Whatever you could call her other persona.*

*But... She had no reason to refuse his invitation.*

*She laughed nervously as she got up, making her way over to the log. She sat himself down beside the macen, struggling to form together a coherent conversation starter:*

"So- Uh, nice eyepatch we're having. Wait, I mean weather!" She said, frantically waving her arms as she turned to face the macen. "Nothing against your eyepatch! It looks cool! Very cool! Are those in style nowadays for guys?!" She finished, rather loudly.
Travis
_Almann knew he had embarrassed her. That was good, it showed she was more genuine. You could see in her cheeks and the way she talked. Almann could tell their conversation would be decently interesting. He could also tell that her intentions were true enough. He had a background that involved dealing with pokerfaced merchants in markets abroad who hid their intentions far better than she is now._

_Almann gave a hearty laugh in response to her comments on his eye patch._

"I isn't uncommon for mercenaries to lose an eye, no. I guess I'm not different in that respect."

*He pulls the pipe out of his mouth*

"My name is Almann Jek, and yes, the weather is nice today. It's a little damp to be smoking though, but with a little effort..."

*He blows a small puff of fire from the side of his mouth*

"...The coals burn just hot enough."
Antoinette
*Almann... Jek? She knew that name like how she knew this person, albeit barely. Again, however, her thoughts on the man's identity would lose her as she found herself being drawn into his amiable nature. It was a good thing that he hadn't taken offense to her comment about the eyepatch; she knew that there were people out there who wouldve taken something like that to heart. Holding her composure together, she'd place both her arms in her lap, drawing her eyes away from Almann's gaze, looking down towards the floor. She needed to cool down.*

*Relaxing a bit, she noticed that he was smoking a pipe, causing clouds of smoke to exhale from his lips into the air. The wisps caught onto the wind, and they, along with the passing breeze, drifted off into the night.*

*Ironically, Artoria never found the urge to smoke. She read that it caused damage to the lungs, but could easily be healed with magic. The fox never quite found how it was appealing to breath in something that, left untreated, could kill you; smoking was like introducing a poison to your body. It was harmful, and she never saw the purpose of it. The ordeal of what happened that one time in New Salvainia came back to her as well; she and a group of people - Syele, presumably Katherine, and someone else - were trapped in a room of burning corpses. Smoke filled their lungs as they desperately tried to find an exit. They did, of course, but the feeling of being slowly suffocated to death VIA inhalation of the smoke still left a mark in her mind.*

"Smoking?" She began, her voice still slightly quivering. "I've never smoked before. Never really found the appeal to it. Too much can hurt, yknow. I know someone who kept smoking and never got treated for it. Said that if he were to have his lungs healed after every time he smoked, it would take all the 'genuineness' out of it. He kinda... Died."
Travis
_Almann could pick up the the quiver in her voice, however slight it might be. He'd have soften her up a bit before he'd pick at the memory. He had time._

*Almann raised an eyebrow*

"They smoke to forget. A author will write about a far off place because he is limited by his study, a poet might write about a lover they'd never met after being scorned, but those who work and wage war with their hands? They suffer and toil consantly. They wish for peace in their lives. To breathe air that isn't full of the smells and tastes of their suffering but are full of exotic and good things. Many smoke to forget the smells of the past and to replace it with something new."

*He understood the want to forget all too well. His first quest involved the burning of flesh of his targets, he can still remember the smell of char that lasted for weeks after his payment. He would be reminded of it in every raid on a village he'd conducted, every battle he fought, every slave's spent husk of a body burned because their new masters saw no use in them, not having the strength to cry out as they burned alive.

His first quest in New Salvainia always stuck in the back of his mind. In recent times the victims of fire around him were not his own comrades, but his enemies and their property. During the mission they were given in the storehouse of that city, they ended up burning their own due to close quarters. There's something twisted, Almann thought, about the intermingling smell of the burned flesh of one's foe and friend. Thinking back on it, there were 3 others on that quest, two non-macen and two macen including himself...*

"Those who take up this hobby would feel wrong cheating out of it with healing. The price you pay in an attempt to forget and have peace is risking your life by taking it up in the first place. It's a reminder. People who drown themselves in drink do very much the same thing."