"Alright, take the purse and go, mate. Been a pleasure, and if you're ever looking for work again, don't hesitate, yeah?"

Galin caught the heavy purse out of the air and tucked it into his tunic. “Aye Cap’n, that I will. It was certainly an education to sail with you.” Laughing, he turned and left the pirate ship as it began to unload its prizes. Rather than stay on for another voyage, he decided to take his pay in advance and hit the town. It was a bit uncommon but Galin always thought of himself as something of an uncommon man. He had been a soldier for a number of years, learning his trade in another place, a different one, he thought, though that world had nearly faded from memory. Some things came to him, a name, a face, a remembered smell or sound, but for the most part, it was a murky blackness in his memory and that did not bother him one bit. It kept him free of his past and able to charter his own course without the burden of what he “ought” to do because of who he came from. Anonymity was, to him, the ultimate freedom.

His cruise had been profitable enough to last him a few weeks of thoroughly debauching himself before he had to work again and so he headed for one of the more reputable taverns for a drink and something to eat that was not salted pork and twice baked bread so hard it could shatter a man’s tooth and stop a crossbow’s bolt. He knew by the end of the month he would be eking out his pay in the seedier taverns near the docks, but tonight he would feast like a king at the Coxswain’s Tiller near the merchant’s quarter. The wooden sign above the inn creaked in the wind and Galin could not help but chuckle at the artist’s placement of the tiller. The painted, it seemed, had a sense of humor.

Shouldering his way up to the tavern keeper, he pressed a thick gold coin into the man’s hand. “A room, and not one with fleas nor rats, and some ale, alright?” The man, taken aback, just nodded and poured the man a drink from one of the casks near the buttery. “Thanks mate, and have one of the girls send a key when the room is ready” Galin said with a wink, taking a long pull on the wooden tankard before drifting into the center of the room. Most of the men there were well to do merchants, thriving on the illegal trade that made the city a hub for any man that wanted to sell something he did not have full rights to, and they were in fine fettle. Galin growled a bit, disliking them on sight for their silks and satins, the sheer opulence of their positions, and,, if he were to be honest with himself, not a little bit of jealousy.

Somewhere in the corner of the bar, a man with a well-tuned lira began to scrape his bow over the strings, instantly hushing the crowd who waited expectantly for the music to follow. After a few scrapes to ensure his pitch, the man, clearly a sailor more used to using his lira to keep time as the capstan turned or rowers bent at their oars, launched into one of the songs that Galin had learned at sea, a good song for heaving a line in unison. As the man neared the chorus, Galin found himself standing to sing along, his mug held high over his head as he roared out the words.

“When I was a little boy
Or so my mother told me
Hey haul away, haul away ho

That if I did not kiss the girls
My lips could all grow moldy oh
Hey haul away, haul away ho

Hey haul away, we’ll haul together
Hey haul away, haul away ho
Hey haul away, we’re bound for better weather
Hey haul away, haul away ho!

Well first I had a ‘Luna gitl
And she was fat and lazy oh
Hey haul away, haul away ho

And then I had a Highland girl
She damn near drove me crazy oh
Hey haul away, haul away ho”

All the sailors in the place sang along as the chorus came roaring up again, slapping their tables with their hands in time with the music, so accustomed they were to keeping time to the song as they hauled a line to raise an anchor or sheet home a sail. Galin stamped his feet with the rest of them, keeping to the rhythm that had seen him through endless hours of work at sea, and singing the words that came as second nature to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a woman sitting near the hearth with a near empty drink and, swept up in the hammering, stamping rhythm of the song and his own drinking, he signaled to the barman for another round for the both of them. Sitting in the chair across from her, he smiled and gave her a mock half-bow from his seat. “Saw the seat was open and I am simply trying to save such a lovely woman from the unwelcome advances of these drunken animals.” He winked and waved the serving girl over, taking both drinks and passing one to the woman. “I took the liberty of getting you a drink, for it would be a shame to see you go thirsty of course. And now, your health,” he said, toasting her and taking a long pull. “And I would be a terrible bore if I did not introduce myself. The name’s Galin, Galin Ochiern out of the North, previously a sailor of dubious repute, currently an overpaid sot looking to drink through the profits of a good cruise.” He took another drink and grinned, broad and open, with laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I have two questions for you, though. What is it I can call you, aside from Beauty, and do you think you can help me drink through my pay? I am brave man, to be sure, but I am not sure I want to go it alone!”

Her head was a throbbing mess of agony. Days of trying to piece together the memories that crowded her mind; trying to put them into order so that she could understand what they meant or why they plagued her so… but nothing… not a damned thing. The names still made no sense, the faces and events held no more clarity than they had when she first started seeing these things - both in her dreams and when she was awake. None of them meant a damned thing to her, she had no emotional connection to them, no feeling of familiarity (until they replayed in her head of course) nothing… she had no clue why they were there but they were beginning to leave her angry and frustrated. She wanted it to stop, wanted it to just leave her alone for a night or so, just so that she could get some sleep… that was all she wanted, a respite from the constant onslaught of strangers memories - maybe the quiet would allow her to remember something about who she was… even if it was just her name.

The Tavern was full of noise; it's patrons in full swing of joviality. If it wasn't for her throbbing headache she might have joined them in their jokes and their songs but right now they were a damned nuisance and they were making her head hurt more. In all honesty she was struggling not to scream and shout at them! Gritting her teeth together the woman shut her eyes and put her head in her hands, trying to block out as much noise as she physically could, wings twitching irritably upon her back. Oh by the Gods did they really have to sing that loudly?! Snarling under her breath the woman bared her fangs at the table she was sat at; pushing against her skull with her palms to try and shift the pressure in her head to something she could manage better - right now it felt like someone was going at her brain with a sledgehammer… 

As those closest began slapping their tables with their hands she let go of her head, looked up, eyes snapping open to look at them, her emerald orbs dancing with malice. Bearing her fangs at them she hissed loudly, wings flaring open so suddenly that the crack was actually audible. They stared at her in surprise which soon changed to fear as they got up from the tables surrounding her and moved to the other side of the Tavern. Idiotic, pathetic creatures. She took her drink and finished it in one gulp. So far alcohol had done nothing to dull the pain in her head, but then again nothing had, not sleeping, not eating or drinking nor spells or potions. Apparently she was doomed to spend her days with her head feeling like it was about to split in two. 

Suddenly the seat opposite her was occupied and the woman looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Oh really?" She answered simply, pushing her aching head to the back of her mind as she sat back in her seat and folded her arms over her ample chest to look at him seriously. "And what makes you think I cannot handle myself? Or for that matter that you do not slip into that category as well?" She asked him simply, cocking her head to one side. Suddenly there was a drink before her and he was toasting her health, she raised her mug and drank deeply from it, not particularly joining him in his toast but certainly enjoying a free drink. He spoke his name and her brow furrowed… that name… that name seemed… familiar somehow… Her mind reeled as she ran through the memories she had been forced to watch day after day, night after night… he was there somewhere… that face with that name she was sure of it… 

She contemplated his next questions and decided that given he was going to give her free drink she would play along. "You can call me Shadow. And I'll help you out. Girl can never say no to a free drink can she?" She smiled, leaning forward and entwining her fingers together on the table top. 

"Oh, from the look of you, you can more than handle yourself,” he said with a crooked grin, drinking from his ale again. “Dangerous looking woman to be sure but what sort of gentleman would I be if I did not at least offer? A proper terrible one, to be sure, and I would never be able to forgive myself.” He spoke with mock seriousness but even his best efforts could not keep the laughter from his tone or the spark of mischief from his blue eyes. “And after that stunt with the wings, I’ve got plenty of room to stretch my legs out here at the table. Scared everyone in the place back a good ten feet and all the better for me.” He winked at her, noting in the back of his mind that her green eyes seemed familiar, but the sort of familiarity that came out of the mists of his memory, not something he could point out with a concrete certainty. “And Maker’s bollocks, if I was a drunken animal after a single drink, I’d ask you to lop my damned head off on the spot, little use I would be to man nor beast with that weak a constitution!”

Shadow. Not exactly the sort of name a man would expect, but neither was a tall, winged woman in a pirate port, so Galin did not see the sense in pushing it further. She had to have a proper name, he thought, but it could wait. At this point, it was enough to keep her drinking and talking. “Well, Miss Shadow, it’s a true pleasure to meet you. What’s got you in these parts anyhow? I can’t say I’ve seen you around before and let me say, a face like yours would not be one I’d soon forget, even with this terrible memory of mine.” He winked again and drained his cup, calling for a pitcher for the table to save on waiting in the crowded taproom. “You don’t have the look or a pirate, you see. Not enough dried salt on you cloak to have been caught out in a rough sea and any sailor would tell you it’s horrible bad luck to take a woman aboard, so even if you were, I don’t think there would be a ship that would hire you on. No, you’re a fighter, sure as I’m sat here, and from the look of your kit, one that knows her trade.”

Galin was not the sort of man anyone would accuse of an abundance of learning but he was always perceptive, using quick wits to keep one step ahead of folks that often as not wanted to see him dead. Robbing men at his sword’s point on the high seas tended to make a man enemies who had the daft idea that they deserved to keep their property. He smiled at the woman, trying not to stare too obviously. Even with the strangeness of her appearance, the wings and all, there was plenty worth looking at and Galin had just come back from six months without even a whiff of a woman so it was even more difficult to keep his eyes from wandering. Luckily the serving girl brought over a large earthenware pitcher filled with more ale and he was able to shift his focus, refilling his cup and turning the handle of the jug toward her. “Feel free, of course.”

“Me, I am here as a man of leisure now, formerly a crewman aboard a few of the ships that come through here. I don’t stay with any crew too long, prefer to move about and see what else is out there, as well as making more coin. Simple enough life, that. Sail, plunder, spend and start all over again. Much better than slogging about in the mud like I did, infantry that is, before I found that salt air and open seas were better than mud and fever. What is it you do with that scowling face and heavy blade there, eh?” He paused and chewed his lip a moment, then smiled again. “And what’ll you be eating? Can’t turn down a free meal either, you know!”

Of course she could handle herself; she might not remember who she was or what her name was but that didn’t mean she was completely stupid – instinct alone had taught her that she was a warrior and on more than one occasion men, such as the ones Galin had ‘come to rescue’ her from, had made their advances upon this ethereal and beautiful woman… and she had shown them quite clearly that she was not to be messed with. The skills had all come back to her quite naturally; she didn’t know how or why but her body had moved of its own accord and she had dealt with them swiftly and without hesitation. She snorted as the man referred to himself as a gentleman; he was a flirt that much she could tell, gentleman was not the word she would have used to describe him that was for certain. “They were making too much noise and it was making my headache worse.” She said with a shrug, shifting her wings into a more comfortable position on her back, smiling with amusement at this man who thought himself not only a gentleman but clearly a comedian as well. She’d allow it, for now; his company was far more enjoyable than anyone else’s she had encountered so far and there was something so familiar about his face that she was determined to figure out…
 
Shadow could not help but let the corners of her mouth twitch into a wry smile. Oh how suave this one thought himself to be! “Nothing in particular; I don’t know this place at all. I just… walked and found myself in the Port, no rhyme or reason just… Fate I suppose in its way.” Again she smiled; chuckling as she took another deep gulp from her mug. “Very well assessed my dear Galin. I am a fighter indeed; for the moment I sell my sword to the highest bidder, not that I’ve found much work so far.” She admitted with a sigh. “It’s funny. You say you have not seen my face before but you would recognise me if you did… yet the more I look at you, the more I look into your eyes the more I swear I have seen you before… and that’s strange because as of right now I can’t remember a damned thing about who I am, not even my true name.” She admitted, lacing her fingers together as she sat forward, resting her chin atop her knuckles as she looked at him carefully, wondering what the man might have to say about this.
 
Unlacing her fingers the woman took the jug gently and poured herself another mug of ale – she would most certainly not let this man drink her under the table, she was going to make him regret offering her a free drink.
It’s not the first time you’ve drunk together and I know exactly how this ends… same way it always has when you two get near one another. A disgruntled voice said in the back of her mind, but the woman ignored it and took a deep drink of her ale. Was that a part of herself warning her that she did indeed know this man? Was she to be wary of him? No… if anything he should be wary of her if he dared try anything without her consent.
 

“Not a Pirate by profession then?” She teased, running a fingertip along the rim of her mug. “I swing it. Generally in the direction of people I dislike, or those who dare attack innocents. Depends on my mood.” She said jovially. Licking her lips the woman cocked her head to one side. “Stew, if the gentleman would oblige me.”

“Selling your sword’s a risky business in these parts, though I am one to talk. Winds are shifting, see, power and all, and someone that’s hiring today could be a traitor tomorrow and up on the gibbet.” Galin paused to drink from his mug again, trying to think of where to take the conversation. Usually by now he had either been slapped or kissed, sometimes both, and this was turning into a more extended conversation than he had originally intended. However, he did not seem to mind the change in plans, smiling as he continued. “At least you’re here, this city’s a grand one for the lost and down on their luck. Might be a good place for a second chance, when all’s said and done, seeing as you don’t know it but are here anyhow. Fate, and all that.”

She was short of work, it seemed, and part of him was willing to offer her a chance to come along with him whenever he next took to sea. The pirates were not a picky lot and he had done well enough by them in the past that he might be able to convince them that a woman with wings was not the worst idea at sea. However, until he could vouch that she was not, in fact, the worst idea at sea, he would wait, feel her out further, see if there was some sort of story to this strange woman that might come back to haunt him later. “Ahh, so you think you know me, eh? Though it does sting a bit that I am not immediately remembered, being as I am among the handsomest, most charming men on land or sea. It makes me think I have gone ugly this last trip at sea, all scarred and wrinkled into hideousness. Tell me, is it true? Am I a terribly ugly thing that’s wasting his time because his very face sends people into fits of terror?” He could not contain his own laughter after he let the question hang a moment and let out a loud, deep laugh until tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand then drained his mug.

Their food arrived and he used it as a chance to collect his thoughts as he ate, having stew from the large crock between them. Warmed by ale and the food, he relaxed further and smiled easily at her. “No, not a professional pirate no, mostly unprofessional. At least that’s what the captains have said.” He chuckled again. “Sorry, not used to being around so beautiful a woman and I let my mouth run away with me, you see? But no, not a professional pirate. Veteran of the late war, not given much to a peaceful life after, so I took up like you, looking for the sort of work a man with a blade can expect. Over time, I ended up here and the sea seemed the logical next move. There’s always someone who needs something nicked from someone else and that keeps me fed, clothed, and, if my warming cheeks are any indication, boozed.” She did not like to hurt innocents, took it personally, and that appealed to Galin. He had fought in the war but some of the actions on both sides had sickened his stomach. “That’s a good thing,” he said, a bit more serious than before, “protecting the innocent. A code’s important, keeps the world from being a bloody wasteland, and that I know for a fact. Though your answer’s got me worried about one thing: Am I one of the people you dislike? Because it would be poor form to eat dinner then swing that monstrous thing at me, and even worse for me to have to deprive the world of your beauty when I beat you.”