[Aven Alveron]

Hakon Kilandre settled upon a stool, the tottering wood squealing slightly under her weight as she stifled a yawn and hooked her feet about the legs. Years of training had lead up to this; being kicked out of her home by her father's advisors with nothing but a shield, a broadsword, the clothes on her back and the skills she had accumulated. Fantastic. All for the sake of learning the value of building herself up, maybe God would give her a break on this one.

Eh- probably not. The young woman reached back, straightening her back as she began to braid her hair idly, looking around the rowdy bar. It was said this is where adventures began, so she would see, on this day, at this time, if that was really true.

Her hazel-grey eyes flicker across the dimly lit scene, it was pleasant, brusque, just the way she enjoyed it. There was an air of tension and primal joy that caused her to smile faintly. Maybe… This all wouldn't end up to bad? As if on queue, the stap of her shield suddenly snapped and the kite shield fell to the floor with a loud bang. Instantly the bar descended into silence as Hakon froze, platinum locks in hand… Damn it all to hell.

Aven sauntered into the building, a complete mess: his hair was slightly ruffled, his black robe in dirty and worn in a few areas, and had only light, black cloth slippers on, needing to throw away his previous leather boots and gloves after the viscious wolf attack he'd survived. His silver-grey eyes drooped, a small gathering black particles swimming aimlessly around the pupils.It was not only his appearance in dissaray, however: his mind was clouded, filled with broken memories and foggy recollections. Where had he come from? It certainly wasn't here, he knew that much. The land felt different, foreign, and his body groaned at the change. The memories he retained clearly were of no use, as they detailed scientific studies and knowledge, nothing situationally helpful. Moreover, he recalled abilities he'd been able to harness, manipulating shadows and melding with them, being one with the night and an adversary of the sun.He strafed around the tables on his way to the bar, almost absentmindedly, as his mind slogged along. Those abilities, and their previous drawbacks, as he'd found out the hard way from those wolves, were nothing but a memory, his current power a mere fraction of what it had been, not to mention that his very nature of dark matter seemed even more an oddity than before. Unlike what he could remember of the world previously, he was not surrounded by dark matter here: it did not seem to be a function of the world. Just his luck, he supposed.As if in response to his arrival, a giant kite shield fell right beside him, nearly crushing his foot, startling him out of his thoughts. He glances from the shield, to it's owner, but before he could ask what happened, he made eye contact with the armored woman. He platinum blonde locks framed a beautifully angle face, and her eyes bore deep into his mind, tugging at something as if trying to drag a memory from the misty depths. He swore that he knew that face, but he couldn't recall a single thing about it. He did know, however, that she was beautiful, and his eye widened slightly as he struggled to say something, anything. "D-do you need help with that?" He offered his help so awkwardly that it was almost endearing, a naivety showing through his nervousness that couldn't be faked. Stupid, stupid…

Hakon snapped her head up again, looking at the silver haired and disheveled man who stood before her. Inquired to her- she was taken for a moment. Something in her mind seemed to quiver, like a small bird awakening in confusion before falling back asleep. She blinks and offers a small, embarassed smile as she reaches down, scooping up the kite shield's broken leather strap, placing the great slab of wood upon her lap as she turned toward him.

" Thank you, but I believe I will be alright," she answers quietly, her serious expression cracking for a moment long enough to offer a shadow of a smile. Her gaze flickers back to the shield, pinching the broken strap between thumb and forefinger as she stifles a sigh. She wondered how much it would cost to get a new strap- she supposed she could find a trapper and trade it for a little silver or leather to buy or make her own. Nonetheless, despite her thoughts wandering, she couldn't help but look up to the man again, the question rising to her lips before she could stop it," If I may, who are you?"

Who am I? The question was so simple, and yet… why did it seem that he could not answer? Aven knew his name well enough, that much was certain, but as to who he actually was, he could not give shape. There was the mountains of research in his head, a veritable library of theorums and hypotheses, all of which he could categorize internally with little effort, but no context to give to the studies. Was he a magical researcher, who was paid to delve into the secrets of the world, or perhaps a hermit, who devoted his life to the study of magic and it's workings. He sighed inwardly, he wasn't old enough to be a hermit, what a silly thought. Still, he didn't even remember his family, what being an "Alveron" meant. How could he answer such a question should he be unsure of the subject himself?
"M-my name is Aven Alveron…" Stuttering still, coward? Suitable, perhaps he'd just been a coward who hid himself away in a study to pursue knowledge. Before he knew what he was doing, however, he'd swept into a formal bow, almost noble in appearance. What was that? "May I ask your name?" Bold, imagining the poor sight he must look. No doubt, she would brush him off as a beggar, and rightfully so.

Her eyes followed his eccentric movement closely, seeming vaguely put off by this theatricality. Nonetheless, she forces another smile," Alright then Aven Alveron- would you care to sit down with me?" She asks, motioning idly beside and equally rickety stool at her side. She felt oddly at ease with this man, though with most she found herself to be suspicious and easily agitated. As if she had tired of years of futile interaction- though… From what she remembered, she never truly interacted with anyone but her trainers- faceless trainers, instructors. She furrowed her brow. Strange, what exactly did she remember before wandering into this bar? Not…. Much.

Aven was surprised by by the gesture, it certainly hadn't been one he expected. Did she not see how ragged he looked: the worn, dull tinge to his eyes? Perhaps she'd felt the same once, beaten down with nowhere to go. Finding somewhat of a kindred spirit was comforting, and the strange feeling of deja vu resurfaced in his brain. what was he trying to remember? It seemed important, something vital to his existence, somehow. Nevertheless, the fog buried it once again. Perhaps with time, it could find it's way to the light from the shadows of his mind, but until then, he had only to wait. 
"Really? Well, thank you, Miss…?" She hadn't answered his question from before. He cut himself off before he asked again, it would not be polite to pry. He was simply a ragged patron at a tavern, no reason to share her identity. Then again, why did he? Why had he felt so inclined to establish trust between them, his heart beating faster as he glanced her visage. Too odd…

" Kilandre," she answers, the word rising easily as she offers him her hand," Hakon Kilandre," she couldn't tear her eyes away now, it was impossible. He was familiar. It was as if they had lived a life together that was now nothing but a memory buried beneath miles of earth. She KNEW him but… Did not," Hakon Kilandre,"

Blinking rapidly, she turns away, forcing herself to wave over the bartender," Water, and…?" She looks toward him, but jot directly at him, vaguely fearing to be pulled into that trance of scrambled memory again," What would you like?"

Aven smiles softly, his silver eyes shimmering slightly, the gesture of kindness a needed reprieve from the confusion he'd felt for the last day. He extends his hand, giving her as firm a handshake as he could muster. He managed a force akin to the idle squeeze of a small boy. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Kilandre. I would have a Matron's Root, if they have it." Matron's Root? What was that? It just slipped off his tongue naturally, as if he'd made the same order countless times before. He stammered to correct himself, to not come off as an oddity. "I-I mean, any hard liquor would do."

The bartender shot him a confused look but as he rectifies his order, the man nods shortly and moves away. 

" Matron's Root-" Hakon echoes thoughtfully, it rolled off her tongue and she could even taste the liquor on her lips. Alas…. She could not place it with a memory so soon the words slipped away and disappeared into the foggy abyss of forgetfullness. She blinks and looks upon Aven once more, taking in his robes, his attire- he was dressed not much better then herself," Are you a Mage?" She inquires curiously, vaguely recalling a distant dislike and hatred of mages- stemming from what? She did not know. Perhaps she would rmemeber in time, to avoid liquor for now perhaps would be her best bet in the endeavour.

Aven considers the question. He was positive that he once wielded powers akin to that of a mage, but could he truly call himself a member of such a profession when his mastery had since faded to nothing? Being that mages used knowledge as their weapon, he still had the qualifications to be one, and he supposed there was still the potential there to be grown, a path set before him to regain that which he had lost. Maybe on that path, he would find the memories so stealthily hidden within the confines of his conscious. That was something he wished fervently for, deep within himself, though he could not place why such a desire was so strong.
"Yes, I believe I am… not a very strong one, mind you, as a single, starved wolf gave me this much trouble on my journey to this place." He gestures to his tattered clothing, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "Pretty pathetic, huh? To carry around such a giant shield, I'm guessing you're a warrior, Miss Kilandre?"