An Older World [OPEN]

[Berwald "Sven" Oxenstierna]

On the edge of Port Yasotaria, there is a humble district the size of a small town, vastly different from the city proper. Once one enters, it is as if stepping through a portal across time, across seas, into a taste of an older world, one of gypsies and nobility, kings and pirates -- the reenactment district.

Wooden stalls and canvas tents abound, full of handmade wares and delicious foods, and there is more green here than anywhere else in the city save for the park, with no pavement to be seen for at least a half mile's radius. In the center is a huge plaza, always full of entertainers and showmen, dressed to the nines in the garb of days long past as they go about their revelry.

There is a jousting arena on the far north edge, a host of stables not far from it, where brave knights compete for the crowds, earning the favors of the ladies that attend. One must of course be of age to sign up, as this can be dangerous sport, but it is for the most part open to anyone who dares to sign up.

A tavern is on the western edge, always fully stocked with hearty food and good drink, both of the alcoholic variety and not; a staged brawl happens every few hours to the great entertainment of patron and participant alike.

Tucked into the northeast corner, not far from the archery range to the east, is a fully operational forge, sending a great plume of smoke pouring into the sky, the song of metal on metal ringing for quite some distance as the weaponry for sale just outside the workshop glitters in the sunshine.

It is here that one Berwald Oxenstierna -- known to all but a precious few as Sven -- has found his niche, happily apprenticed to the somewhat eccentric blacksmith.

OOC: This needn't just concern Sven. The whole place is a playground, and anybody can do whatever they can think of here! Go for it and have fun!!

[Matthew Williams]

While not in a particularly bad situation, Matthew had been looking for some extra cash on the side.

Most of his needs were met by his scholarship and by the dorm's budget. However, he didn't have hardly any money to spend himself. Unless his father sent him and Alfred funds on occasion.

The problem about students finding a job is double that of an adult. No experience being one of the major issues. You could be a diligent worker and be eager to learn a profession; but, it didn't mean anything unless one had the experience already. (Or as long as you had the looks to woo the boss.)

School was the second issue; it goes without saying that employers usually wanted their employees to be available whenever and wherever at any time. A luxury students did not usually hold (unless they somehow had powers to complete all their homework instantaneously.)

That's where this faire came in. Matthew had gotten a lucky break after so many attempts at finding temporary employment. It was somewhat out of the way, yes, but it was the only place he could get a job that did not require experience. His first job!

Though, he had imagined cashiering at a supermarket or maybe working at a pet store...not being a stable boy.

Matthew sighed as he brushed one of the horses in the stables. A beautiful black filly who accompanied the black knight during the jousts. It really was a stroke of luck that he ended up working with animals, though. He'd always enjoyed the company of them, but never got the chance to keep pets and had little to no interaction with them (aside for when Alfred would bring home strays.)

"Hey, kid! Go get some water for these horses!" the stable keeper shouted angrily.

"Y-yes, sir!" Matthew stiffened, dropping the brush in a nearby pail. He pat the horse a few times on the neck before walking out. The boy picked up two empty pails outside the stable before trudging off to find water

People at this faire were so in character that it almost scared Matthew, but it came with the job, he supposed.

The Canadian walked around for about twenty minutes, dressed in the rags that they had called his costume. It was almost embarrassing, and he got a lot of giggles from girls that he recognized from school. He was certain that he wouldn't hear the end of it come class time. But, he was making money! That had to count for something, right? ....

After awhile, he decided that he better ask for directions. He didn't recognize anyone or the entire area he was in. So, he stopped in front of some sort of workshop, peeking in and seeing someone.

"E-excuse me, I-I'm s-sorry to bug you. B-but, can I ask you a question?" Matthew asked timidly.

He couldn't see the person clearly, but somehow, he looked a bit familiar... Matthew was sure to beat himself up when he saw exactly who it was (and for not noticing sooner.)

[/blockquote]

[Berwald "Sven" Oxenstierna]

Berwald didn't hear the timid question, said question having been asked just as he dipped red-hot iron into the water barrel, the voracious hiss drowning out the young Canadian's words.

Berwald's employer, however, did.

The blacksmith stood from his seat near the front of the stall, flicking a long gold ponytail over his shoulder, a somewhat predatory grin on his relatively young face as he approached the Canadian. Half of that face was obscured by a thick sheet of hair, seeming to be carefully arranged; however, it wasn't quite enough to cover the straps holding the patch over his left eye. The remaining eye burned vivid blue, traced around the edges with a thick line of kohl. The man was slim despite his profession, though quite obviously toned; as with his apprentice, the man's shirt was missing, but unlike his protege the blacksmith was covered in scars - most of them small, with one prominent burn right over his heart. Both biceps were ringed with scars as well, marks tiny burns and cuts running down from there, ending in well-worn hands with somewhat delicate fingers.

"Whatcha need, nn?"

[Matthew Williams]

Matthew turned his face as he saw a man rise from the stall, instantly taking a few steps back in surprise. The pails remained firm in his grip, and he wouldn't be afraid to whack him if he got to close.

Well, that's what Matthew thought, anyway. He would never actually do it. The Canadian was more likely to run away than stay and fight a losing battle.

The blond took in the others looks, keeping a nervous eye on his face. This man looked very intimidating. And he made Matthew look like a twig in comparison. It took everything in the boy's power to not stare at the scars and other markings adorning his body. Although, Matthew just couldn't help himself and did stop once or twice.

Quickly, he shook his head and tried his best to not look intimidated by the other. Failing miserably, his hands trembling while holding the pails that were reserved for the water.

"I-I'm sorry. I-I've been l-looking around for awhile a-and can't seem to find anywhere t-to fill up these with water." his eyes were trained on the floor; Matthew couldn't look the man in the eye or he would completely lose his nerve.

"J-just wanted to know if you m-might know where I can go?"

[/blockquote]

[Berwald "Sven" Oxenstierna]

The blacksmith grinned wider, giving the boy a once-over. An artist, he was; his remaining eye was a very good one, and the look of this boy was deceptive. Frightened as a little fox, he was, but every bit as fierce - he had no doubts the lad would whap him good with one of those pails if he got too spooked.

The blacksmith found his terror hilarious, considering the kid had a good two inches on him.

Standing up a bit straighter, the man cracked his neck a bit, gesturing to where his apprentice was working while keeping his eye on the boy in front of him. "You can take some from the barrels over there, long as it's not drinkin' ya need it for, nn. Help yourself." He spared his protege a glance, wondering if the kid would be as scared of the Swede as he was of his master. "Don' worry about him, nn. He don' bite."

...at least not as far as the smith had seen. No doubt if something ever did get under that kid's skin, the end result - or what was left of it - wouldn't be pretty.

[Matthew Williams]

Matthew didn't like that grin one bit, even if it was just the man being who he was.

Actually, it was the people with the grinning you had to watch out for he had come to find out over time. And it didn't help that the blacksmith was looking over him with that eye. Despite being shorter than Matthew, he still felt small in comparison. The smithy just gave off this air of intimidation that made the Canadian very uncomfortable.

"A-actually, that's what I need it for...t-the stable master asked me to fetch some water for the horses t-to drink." as if to prove his point, Matt held up the pails. The stable master had been known for being somewhat of a hard-ass, especially on newer employees (or so Matthew had heard through the grapevine.) So, he guessed that this was just one of the many things he would have to deal with.

Now that he thought about it...two pails of water probably wasn't enough for all the horses in the stables. Multiple trips were going to be in order.

Looking past the blacksmith, he noticed the other by him. And Matthew thought that he looked familiar, but just couldn't place it from where he stood. Returning his attention back to the man he was talking, he spoke again. "I-Is there a supply of drinking water somewhere? S-sorry for being a nuisance."

[/blockquote]

[Berwald "Sven" Oxenstierna]

The blacksmith made a half-wince at the mention of the stablemaster. Fierce or no, he had his doubts this kid would last more than a week under his current boss's thumb. "Oooh. Boy do I feel sorry for you, filly."

He smirked again, turning to his apprentice just as he was putting finishing touches on his current project. "Hey, boy," he called, pleased when the Swede turned to face him, glancing again at the stableboy and jerking his head in the kid's general direction. "Take the filly to the well, nn? Help him carry that water, too, while you're at it. Kid looks like he's made of sticks." Popping his back a bit, the blacksmith crossed the stall again, resuming his former seat.

Berwald, upon being summoned, took a look at the "filly", recognizing him from the dormitory. He was the quiet one, the one who was always trying to do all the work for everyone, who refused help from anyone. It made the elder brother in him scream and want to wrap him in a blanket until he just sat still and rested.

Keeping an eye on the other boy, Berwald lowered his tools, crossing the stall to take one of the pails from his dormmate's hands, gesturing with a tilt of his head for the blond to follow and heading for the well.

[Matthew Williams]

Matthew had wanted to question exactly why the blacksmith felt sorry for him...and why the man was calling him a filly. Matthew was male, after all. And inwardly he did wish to express his dislike for the term. However, that would be rude and they had only just met. Plus, this man was being nice enough to actually help him out.

Yet again, he was about to ask for directions to the well and be on his way. But, he was stopped when the blacksmith asked his apprentice to assist the Canadian. "I-It's fine!" he attempted to object, "I-If you just show me the way, I can get it m-myself."

Before he knew it, he was met with a familiar person taking one of the pails out of his hands. He knew that this man looked familiar, this was the one from Sweden....Sven if he remembered correctly.

He stood a bit perplexed at first, but with that nod from the other, quickly followed him. The walk so far seemed like it was going to be a bit awkward, and he tried again.

"S-Sven, right?" he lowered his head slightly, feeling slightly anxious around the taller man. "I-I can carry them b-by myself if you j-just show me where the well is. Y-you don't have to help, but thank you." he smiled slightly. Matthew really didn't want to inconvenience him and drag him away from his work. It looked hard enough already.

[/blockquote]

[Berwald "Sven" Oxenstierna]

Berwald kept his eye carefully off the younger male, listening intently to his softened words nonetheless. Even outside, he was trying for independence, striving to do everything on his own.

"S'no trouble," the Swede replied. "Needed a break anyway. Gets too hot 'n there f'r me."

But then, what did one expect from someone who came from a country so close to the Arctic Circle? To be honest, if this was winter, Berwald was dreading the summers. As it was he only tended to wear sweaters - light ones, but who needed to know? - to avoid all the awkward questions that came to one wearing a sleeveless shirt in midwinter. His topless state, even here, was still getting stares, but the youth had to admit he was quite comfortable at the moment.

[Matthew Williams]

Even if he did say it was no trouble, Matthew still felt that he was being a burden on the other. And he had every intention of carrying them on the way back by himself. Sven had said he needed a break, and he wasn't helping by making him do more work.

"I-If you need a break, you should take it..." he replied after a long pause.

As they kept walking, he kept darting his eyes over to the Swede. His looks were a bit intimidating to say the least, but he wasn't bad looking by any stretch of the imagination. Of course, he was starting to freak himself out a bit by constantly staring at the man and he had to ask the other.

"Aren't you a bit cold?" as if it the were the most obvious question in the world.

[/blockquote]

[Berwald "Sven" Oxenstierna]

He tried to stop the exasperated look from crossing his features, but it wouldn't relent. Even though he expected it, every time he was asked that question it rather annoyed him. After a sigh, Berwald schooled his face back into its usual blank expression, still not looking at his companion. No need to startle the kid; his eyes had an unpleasant tendency to do that when he was even remotely less than happy.

"M'fine," he replied calmly. Idly, he wondered if the other was cold, in that thin peasant's shirt he was wearing. Maybe he was from a colder climate as well. Although, if that was the case, would he even be asking such a question? Maybe he was only trying to make conversation?

[Matthew Williams]

Matthew sunk visibly, having caught that brief change in the Swede's face. Inwardly, he had questioned if he had said or done something to annoy the taller male.

"S-sorry..." Matthew apologized, eyes now fixiated on the fascinating floor below. Despite Sven having said that he was fine, he still wondered briefly if he really was. The weather was rather chilly for this time of year. But, then again, Matthew rather liked the cold himself. Maybe Sven was the same way?

Shaking the thought away, and in an attempt to move the awkward silence that seemed to befall their little trip to the side; The Canadian tried to change the subject. "H-..how long have you been w-working here?" he began, though quickly adding on "I-if you don't m-mind me asking, of course! S-sorry!"

Stupid, that was rude... Mentally, Matthew beat himself up. He had barely saved that question by adding on that apology, didn't seem to be his strong suit today. Then again, it was hardly ever his strongest anything.

[/blockquote]

[Berwald "Sven" Oxenstierna]

Berwald sighed quietly; really, he should be used to this by now: scowl and spook the horses, or in this case the horse-tending Canadians. No wonder his boss had called the younger blond a filly. Berwald had to wonder if the blacksmith had actually mistaken the other for a woman at first, what with his only possessing one working eye. The forge had been dark as well, and his dormmate's hair was long, his voice soft and light. In the sunshine, it was easier to see that despite his feathered edges the Canadian was indeed a man...although he seemed to have the temperament of a mouse.

"No harm in ask'n'," he replied to the younger's question. "Y'don' need t'apologize. Hav'n' worked here all that long. Maybe a few months."

Berwald wanted to smile, but the way the other trembled he was fairly certain it would do more harm than good, not unlike a great deal of other things the Swede tended to do. As social a person as he wished to be, he just wasn't that good with people. For instance, he didn't even know the other boy's name; he'd always been too shy to ask, or the other had been too busy or chatting with his friends whenever they were in the lounge.

[Matthew Williams]

Matthew relaxed a little.

While the Swede might have seemed a bit intimidating, he was quiet. All of the intimidating characters Matthew had met throughout his life were either loud and obnoxious or, to put it in blunt terms, bullies. The Canadian didn't want to press his luck, however. The Swedish man was quiet now, but who knows if that would change.

Still, Matthew didn't feel any ill intention from him. "S-sorry." he apologized again, despite being told it wasn't needed. "A-a few months? T-that's still a decent time."

As they walked, he could see the well come into sight. Matthew wanted to talk to the other, wanted to know more, to make friends. He hadn't really gotten to talk to Sven at all. All he had to go by was a name and that he lived in the dorms.

He might not have been a talkative person himself, but he had started to attempt when he became enrolled in the academy. "W-..what do you do exactly?" prehaps it wouldn't hurt to ask another question, however obvious that should have been. The nerves were somewhat getting to him as millions of questions clouded his mind, even ones that should have been clear as day.

[Berwald "Sven" Oxenstierna]

Curious little mouse. For all his timidity, the smaller blond sure asked a lot of questions. Maybe Berwald wasn't quite as bad with people as he'd thought.

When they reached the well, the Swede attached the pail in his hand to the hook, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of the water below to relax himself before starting to lower the rope. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier, less tense. "Learnin' how t'make weapons. Gott'n t'the point where he'll let me alone in th'forge, b't I still hav'n' made anythin' good 'nough t'sell j's yet. Says once 've made a dec'nt sword he'll teach me about arm'r."

Now that it was full, Berwald hefted the pail up over the lip of the well, setting it on the wide edge so it would be a bit easier to lift once the time came, extending a hand for the one the Canadian was holding. Would he even be able to pick it up, the Swede wondered. No matter; his master had asked him to help the other, so he would until the younger had no more need of him.