"All right," she nodded, though the concern was obvious in her expression. She seemed to fight with herself for a moment, debating whether hurting his pride was worth risking him getting sick or injured. "Aran, I'm going to employ you, there's absolutely no doubt about that," she told him, leaning forward, her voice low enough that only he could hear her. "I'd like to offer to put you up in an inn or tavern, until you're on your feet. This isn't charity, it's not pity. Your salary will be adjusted accordingly to allow you to pay me back without worrying about your income or leaving you short." That wasn't precisely true, but 'Taya thought he would take the offer better if he thought she was docking his pay for it. "You have the best voice I have ever heard. It's a crime to put that voice at risk when there's no need."

He arched a brow, startled not only by the news that she intended to employ him, but that she was offering to pay his rent so that he didn't have to live in a broken-down shack with a leaky roof and holes in the walls. He couldn't hide the surprise from his face, or the shock that this stranger would offer him such a kindness, even if she did expect something in return. "You would do this for me?"

"Of course." Mataya actually seemed surprised at his disbelief, smiling gently at the surprise on his face. "Honestly' Even if you hadn't auditioned today, and I'd heard about you, I would have offered anyway. Rhy'Din's a tough place if you don't come prepared, and I like to help people when I can. I'm not offering to find you a house, you can do that for yourself in a couple of months when your salary has stacked up a little. But the least I can do is get you in out of cold."

He flushed a little at the compliment, though he was sure she was just being kind. He had a good voice, it was true, but it was only because he wasn't quite human. It would still be a challenge to learn the songs she'd want him to sing and to gather the courage to share them with a theater full of onlookers. "I do not need a house. A room will suffice," said he who had once lived in a castle, his face brightening at the prospect.

"Then you pick a tavern, or an inn, and you tell them to open a tab in my name, Mataya De Luca," she told him warmly. "I'll drop by and settle up every week until you're settled." She grinned at him, pleased he hadn't fought her. "Seriously, though ....even without formal training, you have an incredible voice, and you have an instinct for dance. You're perfect for the theater company, and I'm going to shout down anyone that says otherwise. And I own the theater, so I'm going to win."

"I will try not to disappoint you, lady," he said with a small, respectful incline of his head. He was obviously from a place far different from Rhy'Din. Either that, or he was just very well-mannered. "I-I have never performed on a stage before, but I will try to do my best."

"You're a natural," she promised him warmly, glancing up as the auditorium doors opened once again. A small snort of laughter escaped her lips at the dejected expressions on some of those faces. "Come back tomorrow," she reminded them. "Just because you didn't read today, doesn't mean you won't tomorrow. I'll be disappointed if you don't show up."

Of course, not all the faces were dejected. One girl was grinning delightedly, evidently truly thrilled at having auditioned at all. She was also, it appeared, clumsy enough to trip over her own feet and send the contents of her bag spilling all over the floor, scrambling to put everything to rights once again.

Mataya smiled, knowing when not to offer her help. "All right, Aran. I'll see you in a week or so - just send me the name of the tavern."

He was momentarily distracted by the sudden exodus of people from the theater, all but one with disappointed expressions on their faces. He watched with mild curiosity as that one tripped over her own two feet and spilled the contents of her bag on the floor. His first reaction was to offer help, but Mataya drew his attention back again, and he wondered briefly if she had just conned him. It was a word that was new to him here, but he understood its meaning. With seemingly no effort at all, she had convinced him to agree to her terms, which seemed to benefit them both. "I will," he replied, moving to his feet out of a sense of decorum. "Thank you, lady....Mataya," he corrected himself again.

Rising herself, Mataya grinned, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "Believe me, it's a pleasure, Aran," she assured him. "I'm sorry to cut and run, but I have to go and make sure my M.D. and my director aren't trying to kill each other." She laughed as she turned away, making her way back to the auditorium with a smile for the girl cramming her belongings back into her bag.

He wasn't quite sure what she meant by that, but it seemed important. She seemed to be a very important and busy person, but more importantly, his elven senses told her she was both kind and caring. It was encouraging. His gaze drifted back to the girl who was gathering up her belongings, if girl she was. There was something oddly familiar about her, though he knew they had never met. He found himself moving to his feet and crouching down beside her. "Let me help you," he volunteered.

Dark eyes in a pretty face looked up as he crouched down, and a somewhat shy smile lit up the delicate features framed by dark hair. "Oh, thank you," she said gratefully. "I can't believe I fell over my own feet. I've been doing so well today!" As she bent her head, making sure she wasn't crushing anything important in the bowels of her bag, her hair shifted just a little, revealing an ear that wasn't quite as rounded as a human's ought to be. "I'm Carina," she introduced herself. "I heard you sing, you have a beautiful voice."

He had not noticed her before, but she had apparently noticed him, and he felt his face flush hotly to the very tips of his ears, which were more rounded than hers, but not quite as round as a typical human's. Enough that he could pass for human without much notice, unless one knew what to look for. "Perhaps you were just excited," he suggested. After all, she had been laughing when she'd stepped through the door, though he had no way of knowing what she'd been laughing about. "I'm Aran," he returned the introduction, not daring to lift his head or she'd notice his blush, busying himself with helping her gather up her spilled possessions.

"Oh, no, I'm ridiculously clumsy," she assured him cheerfully. "I've been concentrating on where I put my feet all day so I don't fall over, and the moment the audition is over, that's exactly what I did!" Giggling, she gave her bag a shake to settle the contents, moving to stand up. "Thank you for helping me, Aran. I appreciate it."

He reached out without thinking to help her to her feet, though he wasn't sure why. It had just seemed the right thing to do. Thankfully, the heat in his face had receded. He had noticed the ear that tapered a little too much to be human, but it wasn't until he looked her in the face that he realized with a jolt that she was not quite elven either. He had seen others like him before, but he had never been so bold as to approach or speak to one before today. "You're welcome," Aran replied, with a faintly embarrassed smile.

He did not need to be told that this was the cafe she'd spoken of, as the smell that wafted from the place when she opened the door told him as much. He caught the scent of smells both familiar and unfamiliar, but all of them reminding him that it had been some hours since he'd eaten. He stepped inside and took in his surroundings, looking the place over before glancing to the people who occupied the space. He moved like someone who was accustomed to having doors opened for him, rather than opening those doors for others, but he did it without thought and without any arrogance or malice. It was simply a habit ingrained in him from childhood, though she could not know that.

The cafe was a warm, friendly space, one of those shared secrets of this part of Rhy'Din. The decor was inviting, bare wood tables mingling with warm shades of terracotta and yellow on the walls. The wide window space was occupied by deep, comfortable couches and chairs set around low tables; further back, pine tables and cushioned chairs were set out, prepared for anyone to take a seat. The counter was manned by a merry-looking halfling woman and a human male, both of whom seemed very happy in their work as they provided drinks and guided customers' attention to the menu written out painstakingly on the chalk board above them. And there were not so many customers as to make a person feel awkward - just enough to give the place a buzz of chatter that didn't intrude.

Carina stepped up behind Aran, hiding her smirk at the matter-of-fact way he had walked through the door as though he had expected her to open it for him. Royalty, then, she thought to herself. Or something like it. "Want a couple of minutes to read the menu?" she asked him with a smile, her eyes already scanning the clearly defined words curiously.

Thankfully, he both read and spoke the common language of the realm. The portal seemed to have chosen a place for him wisely, or so he hoped. Blue eyes scanned the chalkboard, with interest, but though he could read it, he didn't understand much of what was written there. Hotdog" Hamburger" BLT" Grilled cheese" Caesar salad" Milkshake" Taco salad" He had no idea what any of those things were. "Um..." he stammered uncertainly.

"Oh, great, the hunter chicken is back," Carina said, more for his benefit than her own. "The way they make it - it's chicken breast, with bacon and cheese and hickory sauce - it's delicious. And you can get it with fries or with vegetables, whatever your preference." Apparently a drink had turned into dinner.

"Bacon?" he repeated, as uncertainly as before. Hickory sauce" Fries" She still wasn't making much sense. He'd forgotten that she'd only asked him out for a drink, his stomach grumbling loudly as soon as the smell of food had hit his nose. "I will have that then, I suppose," he said, since he didn't really know what else to order. He didn't see any fruit and cheese platters or any rabbit stew, though in all honesty, he'd grown tired of rabbit stew.

"Yeah, bacon," she said, a little bemused that he didn't know what that was. "Um ....it's one of the meats you get off a pig?" She shrugged, hoping he understood that, at least. "What would you like to drink?"

He didn't see any elven wine scribbled on the chalkboard or ale either. He supposed water would do in a pinch. He'd been drinking mostly water since he'd arrived, with only the occasional mug of ale when he had enough coin. Coin was hard to come by in this realm, unless one was willing to beg or do menial labor. He had been lucky to stumble upon the theater at a time when they were looking to hire. He supposed he could have found employment doing something else. He had other skills, after all, but for some reason, he felt drawn to the theater. He wondered what his mother would have said to know he'd become a minstrel. He frowned, unsure what to order again. "Would you order for me" I-I am not sure what to order." What was a milkshake" Why would you want to shake your milk" Soda" Coffee" Tea? None of these words meant anything to him.

She flashed him a smile, appreciating how much effort it must have taken to admit that. "Sure," she nodded, wondering what she should order for him to drink. He was obviously more familiar with the traditional elven sort of thing, so ...."Two mango iced teas, and two hunter chicken with veg, please, Mags," she ordered, directing her smile toward the halfling, who grinned back at her and scribbled it down, nodding to her colleague who wandered off to get the iced teas.

"Haven't seen you here in a while, Carina," Mags said cheerfully. "Handsome fella you've got there."

Blushing, Carina giggled. "Magnolia, this is a new friend I've made today," she rushed to make that a little less awkward. "Aran, this is Magnolia, the nosiest hobbit you will ever meet."

Hobbit, he echoed in his head, committing to word to memory, along with the others she had mentioned. Mango iced tea and hunter chicken. He wasn't quite sure why anyone would hunt chickens when you could just raise them. He quirked a brow when he realized the small woman was talking about him. He had never been called handsome before, except by his mother, but then, she had been biased. As a matter of fact, he thought himself rather plain for an elf. He offered the small woman a polite incline of his head. "A pleasure to meet you, lady," he replied, a little too courteously. She was, of course, no lady, but he wasn't sure what else to call her.

Magnolia chuckled. "Fancy manners too," she commented cheerfully. "Pleasure to meet you, Aran. Don't go keeping my girl up too late at night - you can see more during the day, anyways."

"Mags!" Carina was mortified, blushing to the tapered tips of her ears as she handed over payment for their order. "You're awful!"

The hobbit woman laughed, taking their drinks from her human colleague and passing them over the counter.

He wasn't so naive that he couldn't realize when someone was teasing him - or teasing Carina - and he wondered if he should point out the fact that they had only just met and were merely sharing a meal together. It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive; in fact, he found her very attractive. It was just that he wasn't very experienced with members of the opposite sex. He stood very still watching and waiting to see what was expected of him. He was not a prince here and these were not servants.

He followed her lead, taking a sip of his tea, pleasantly surprised to find he liked the taste of it. "How will they take advantage?" he asked, presuming this was something it would be good for him to know so that he could avoid it, if at all possible.

"Well, most people, if you allow them to know that you're not fully aware of how things work ....they'll help you out," she tried to explain. "But there are some people who will take advantage of you. For example, my father. When he arrived in Rhy'Din, he had nothing but the clothes on his back, and he was very naive. He came from this very strict, traditional culture where xenophobia was a big deal. He got to Rhy'Din, and he asked the wrong person for help. He ended up being robbed, and losing everything he owned in the space of a couple of hours. If he hadn't met my mom that exact same day, who knows what would have happened to him?"

"Xeno..." There was a word that was not only a tongue-twister, but he had absolutely no clue what it meant. There simply was no such word where he came from, though there was enough hatred to go around. So much so that he'd had to flee through a portal for his own safety, leaving those he loved behind to an uncertain fate. Well, so far, he had at least not been robbed. If he had, he wouldn't have had much for them to steal.

"Oh, uh ..." Carina hesitated, wondering how to explain a word she wasn't entirely certain she was using in the right context anyway. "Xenophobia is ....well, it's a deep dislike and distrust of anything that is un-alike. We don't get much of it here on Rhy'Din, but where my father's from, the elves deeply distrust the other races. They don't mix with them, they isolate themselves, they make no effort to understand the other cultures on their world, and the other races are the same. It's the cause of a lot of wars where my dad's from."

"Your father's world does not sound much different from my own," he told her, setting the cup down and turning his gaze that way as if he was contemplating it again, though he was only lost in thought. He didn't want to look at her just then, afraid she'd see the sorrow and grief and loneliness he was trying hard to hide.

"There are a lot of worlds where the different races don't get on," she said quietly, watching him with concerned eyes. "That's part of what makes Rhy'Din so amazing. There are, quite literally, thousands of different races living in this city alone, and so little racial discord. You'd think that I would have had a hard time, being half-and-half, but no one's made anything of it. I'm just one among many."

"There is no one like me where I'm from," he admitted quietly, unsure why he was telling her that. He had never told anyone that before, but then, this was the first real conversation he'd had with anyone since leaving home. He'd seen other like himself here. In fact, he seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary here. It was much easier to blend than he'd thought.

"Everyone is unique in their own way," Carina told him gently. She couldn't imagine being the only person like herself, physically. It seemed a very lonely thing to be. "If it helps at all, I think I'm like you. My father is an elf; my mother is human. But there are lots of half-breeds in Rhy'Din. All the races mix, and where there is that kind of merging, there will be mixing of the bloodlines. I went to school with a guy who's half-ogre, half 'shifter, and he wasn't the strangest I've seen."

"I suppose that's why the mirror chose this place," he quietly mused, mostly to himself. He'd had no trouble blending here. No one had even given him a second glance. It was easy to hide in plain sight here, maybe too easy. He was nothing special here, certainly no prince. Just another of Rhy'Din's half-bloods.

"Hey ..." Without thinking, she reached out to touch his hand, tilting her head to try and meet his eyes. "You're not alone here, Aran. If nothing else, you've met me. And I can be surprisingly persistent when I want to spend time with someone."

He didn't pull away from her touch, but he did lift his head and look to her, unable to hide the surprise from his face. So maybe he wasn't her boyfriend, but that didn't mean they couldn't be friends. "Are we friends, then?" he asked a little hesitantly. He had been here six months, and hadn't managed to make a single friend until now.

She smiled, the expression warm and welcoming on her pretty face. "I'd like to think so," she assured him quietly. "I'm not in the habit of asking people to eat with me if I don't like them."

"I would be honored to be your friend, Carina," he told her with a serious look on his face. He had no friends, after all, and she was not only the first person, other than Mataya, who'd taken an interest in him, but the first person he felt he had anything in common with.

"You could smile a bit, you know?" she suggested, her own smile turning a little mischievous. "Just so I don't feel like I just cornered you into agreeing to be my friend like we're still six. I'm reliably informed that girls stop being icky to boys at around thirteen."

Though he was quite capable of smiling, he'd had little cause to smile lately, except perhaps for the prospect of a new friend, as well as a means of supporting himself and hopefully, a decent place to stay. Something she said confused him again, though he thought he could sort out its meaning from the context it was used in. "Icky?" he echoed. He had not experienced that, having been the only child born to the elves in a very long time.

"Oh." She laughed, finally drawing her hand back from his. "Well, in my experience, boys and girls tend to think of each other as disgusting between the ages of five and eleven. It's only when they hit their teens that they start realizing those differences between them are actually kind of interesting."

Her explanation only served to confuse him further, but then he'd never grown up around other children his age. "Did you grow up here, on Rhy'Din?" At least, he had learned what this place was called.

"I did, yeah," she nodded cheerfully, glancing up briefly as the human server brought their meals over to them. "Thanks, Hron." Unfolding her cutlery from the napkin it was wrapped in, she continued talking, hoping to draw Aran out a little as she did so. "My parents run this apothecary shop just outside the Marketplace, and we lived above it when I was little. Of course, now I've moved out, but they're still there."

"A hobbit," he echoed, committing the word to memory. The small woman had seemed friendly, even when she was teasing Carina about her present companion. From Carina's description of hobbits, it seemed this was the perfect place for Mags to be working. Aran skewered a slice of potato onto his fork and raised it to his lips while he listened to Carina's explanation. He wished he'd learned more during his short stay here, but it had taken all his energy just to survive. "It seems like most of the population is human," he remarked, from what he'd observed anyway.

She nodded. "Most are, I think," she agreed. "I mean, there's a pretty thriving elven community, and the other races are well represented, but humanity is more prolific than the other races. It makes sense that there would be more of them."

"That is because they don't live as long," he said quietly, more to himself than to her. It was a simple point of fact. Even half-elves lived longer than humans, unless they were killed. "What do you mean by thriving?" he asked curiously as he started on his vegetables.

"Well, you know, some of the elven cultures don't like mixing," she admitted awkwardly, playing with her squash. "There's a whole neighborhood in the east of the city where only elves live. It doesn't mean they don't mix with the rest of the city, just that they prefer not to."

"What do they think of us?" he asked, lowering his voice so that no one overheard him and glancing around nervously a moment. Obviously, wherever he came from was not such an open or welcoming place as this.

Carina shrugged one shoulder, tilting her head as she smiled ruefully. "Ah, there's always a few people who spit and curse and make a big deal out of us being abominations," she admitted, "but to be honest' Most people don't give a rat's *ss, whether they're elvish or not. Every society has its idiots who rely solely on prejudice and bigotry, but they're in the minority. Most people, no matter what their race ....they have no opinion."

"Rat's *ss," he echoed, finding that an interesting turn of phrase. Once again, he sorted out the meaning on his own given the context it was used in. He frowned a little at the word abomination but made no comment on it. "That's good," he said simply. Maybe he wouldn't have to worry about blending so much as he'd thought. "My mother was an elf," he told her, quietly once again.

The simple way he offered this up touched Carina very deeply. She was the child of an elf and a human, and knew that one day her human mother would leave them. She expected, however, for her father to outlive her. To hear that Aran had lost his elven parent already was heartbreaking. Soft tears formed in her eyes, empathy for his pain in her expression as she reached across to touch his hand. "I'm so sorry," she whispered in a thick voice.

He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. Though he hadn't told her much, it was more than he'd ever told anyone before since coming to this place. Six months. He had only been gone six months. Was she dead" He had no way of knowing for sure, but he knew in his heart that he was more than likely never going to see her again. He found himself reaching for the chain around his neck, almost without thinking, stopping just short of pulling the stone from beneath his shirt. Instead, he dropped his hand and turned his attention back to his plate.

It took a moment for Carina to compose herself, finding it only too easy to imagine how much it must hurt to have lost the one parent who was supposed to outlive you. She swallowed, staring down at her food for a long moment before searching for something else to say. "So, um ....what made you decide to audition today?"

He picked at a piece of potato, as if he'd suddenly lost his appetite. Grief tended to do that, but one had to eat to survive. Sometimes he wished he'd died with his mother and the rest of his people, though he had no way of knowing what had happened after he'd left. He shrugged slim shoulders. "I don't know. I thought it was time I find a means of earning some coin, and..." He trailed off, wondering if he'd already said too much.

"And winter's coming," she nodded, understanding a little more than he might have wanted her to. She'd known a few people who had arrived in spring, lived rough in the woods, and then had to scramble for a job and shelter before the weather worsened. "If I get in, it'll be my first job," she admitted with a faint smile. "I finished my education in June, and my parents have been employing me since then. If I don't get into the Shanachie, I'm going to have to start looking for something else, and fast."

"You'll get in," he assured her with what could very well be the first real smile he'd offered her. "I saw you audition." He wasn't quite sure what it was she'd recited for her audition, but he had heard the meaning in her voice, seen the feeling on her face and in her movement. Back home, the arts had been an important part of the elven culture, and he was no stranger to the theater.

"I hope ....so." Whatever else she had been about to say was wiped completely clear of her mind as she looked up into a stunning smile that utterly enchanted her. He really was beautiful, clearly having inherited more of his mother than his father. He took her breath away, quite literally, and she realized she didn't want to be just his friend. Quickly, she stamped down on that thought, however. The last thing he needed was a hormonal girl throwing herself at him. "Uh ....Shylock is one of the greatest characters written," she gathered her thoughts together belatedly. "He's a male, but that speech is so powerful. And everyone expects women to play a damsel, or a warrior queen, or something cliched."

He had no idea what effect that smile had on her, but he did know that he found her sweet and charming, kind and caring. They were rare traits, even among his own kind. "I do not know who Shylock is, but I know that you gave an exceptional performance."

She blushed, charmed by his compliment. "Well, I'm ....extensively trained," she admitted reluctantly. "Six years trained, in fact. I just have to hope that I've got something they want to see."

He was frowning suddenly, feeling guilty that he'd already been hired and she had to wait a little while longer. He decided right then and there that if she didn't get hired, he would appeal to Mataya himself and offer up his own spot for Carina. She had been working at it too long, and it meant too much to her for her to be left out. He could find some other line of work. He'd seen some of the auditions and couldn't believe they'd hire anyone else over her. "I don't think you have to worry, Carina."