Synovia x Osirion Healer

After Synovia makes sure that Bobole has fallen back to sleep, she gets dressed and heads downstairs steeling herself against the stares and whispers of strangers as she passes by. She goes to the owner and apologizes for the commotion the night before and offers to pay for the damages to the room. She also requests that food be sent up to her friends in about an hour or so. She then asks the name and whereabouts of the healer and Imanhee.

The Innkeeper asks her a few questions about the state of her friends and if he should fetch a cleric before directing her to a room on the first floor down a short hallway.

"To be honest, I have no Idea, but under the circumstances, I do not believe that a stranger would be a good idea. Thank you for your concern, and discretion. Please pass my apologies on to your guests." Synovia heads to the room down the hall, takes a steading breath and knocks softly on the door.

Imahnee swings the door open, a look of concern on his face. "Oh..." He arms off, he crosses his massive arms across his chest, defensively looking first at Synovia and then down the hall a bit. "Is everyt'ing all right? I just took off my armor but I can put it back on."  Just behind him the old healer with her milk white hair sits and works with some twine and reed, forming the base of a basket.

"Taken aback by his appearance Syn stammers a bit. "I... I think this." she stops takes a breath then continues "I am sorry to disturb you again, and I don't think armor will be necessary. I was hoping to speak with the healer first but I guess killing 2 birds with one stone would save time, but if this is a bad time ...."  She trails off waiting for a response.

Imahnee blinks slowly like a cat and settles into a dark look. "Imahnee, come here," says the old woman softly, though in her accent it sounds like "Cahme 'ere". The large man backs away and leaves Synovia' pathway clear though there is a noticeable chill in the air. The old woman puts the basket aside. "Is the young slave and monster okay?" she asks, her voice sweet and bearing no malice.

At the words slave and monster, a flash of anger crosses Synovia's face but she answers,"My BROTHERS appear to be ok, considering. I am Synovia Pais and I would like to thank both of you for your assistance last night, and to apologize for my behavior. I am usually not that emotional." she pauses for a moment, as if deciding weather or not to continue. She takes a breath the continues. To the old woman she says" also came to see if I might impose upon your kindness one more time. I have some urgent business pertaining to Miro's circumstances, but I'm reluctant to leave them alone. I wondered if you had time if you could check on them a time or two?"

She then turns to the warrior and says, "I know that you feel I am a vile person, and I may agree with you, but not for the same reason. I also believe that you detest the condition of slavery. I have two tasks I need to complete, but I know Miro would try to find me if I went alone. I do not believe that it would be wise for him to leave the Oasis at this time. So, I am asking if you could accompany me?" 

An exchange of looks passes between the Osirions. The woman seems a bit wary and looks to Imahnee for his thoughts. The dark man with eyes the color of glaciers' hearts, turns his gaze towards Synovia and examines her. "You words are full of secrets and you room is full of darkness," he idly waves his hand towards the upstairs. "You call the slave and monster "brothers" yet the halfling still acts as a slave and the monster still seems like a monster." He shoves himself off the wall he was leaning on and rubs his hands over his shaved head. "Yet, if I were to follow in the road in Desna's wake, I would see many things I would not understand. If were to dream the dreams in Desna's hands, I would be as unsettled as this..."   He puts down his arms built like twin battering rams, all coils of muscle, and looks to Synovia. "I will come, Synovia of Dark Secrets. Naomee," he turns to the old woman. "Do not attend to the room upstairs without Ubaunzu and Kweli at your side" He turns back to Synovia, "We need to talk further, yes?" He motions to the front tavern of the Oasis.

Synovia nods fighting the exhaustion that threatens to overtake her as she staggers slightly, she has not had a good sleep  since the confrontation with Neulia, but she can not give into exhaustion until her family is safe. She say to the imposing warrior "If you would help me, then you deserve honesty. But be warned that if you use the information I give you to harm Miro or Bobole, I will gladly give my last breath to kill you"

Imahnee nods solemnly at this then says something to Naomee in the language of the desert people and she responds with a single word. The warrior sorts Synovia to the Tavern and sites her by the fireplace, only one man is there writing in a journal by the window on the other side of the room.  "Tell me,  honestly, your needs" he says firmly but softly. 

"For now I need to go retrieved an item that was stolen from me and find out the laws regarding runaway slaves.  I met Miro and Bobole  just a few weeks ago, and we have been through many horrible things. I only acted as a slave owner because Miro was so terrified of being taken back. I have to find away to protect him." Syn takes a breath and wipes a tear away.   "I have lost two families, I don't think I could here to loose another."

At this Osirion softens his expression like ice melting in front of the fire. "Be ready for challenges and unexpected friends," he says quietly to himself. "Ah, my friend, you fear is fear I know. I will not say your friend's concern is far wrong but he need not burden you so harshly. To be true, I hated you as I hate all slavers of men." He smiles sheepishly, bowing his head, and holds out his hands as though she were an animal he were trying to become friends with. "Can I give you my foolishness in exchange for your friendship?" His hands are large like to broad paddles and muchly calloused from the life of a man always holding a weapon or shield. Many scars lines his arms from past combat, as well as dark black tattoos, one of which is of Desna's symbol.