Family Portrait

Log Info

• Title: Family Portrait

• Emitter: Simony

• Characters: Simony, Warrick

• Place: Fate's Spire Monastery

• Summary: Warrick and his daughter Cynthia get a portrait done by Simony. It's sort of awkward as everyone seems to be in similar state of awkward mind. At least there's tea and buns!

Summer still reigns, the heat almost oppressive, staved off slightly by the breezes that flow down from the mountains in the distance.

The road, not busy in the best of times, is almost devoid of any travelers, only a few monks making their way towards the monastery. Strenuous activity has been postponed, the monks and priests relaxing in the shade outside or hiding in the depths of the building, kept cool by the ancient stones.

Simony has settled on a square of woolen blanket, which is wrapped around the base of a large, paper umbrella. A large teapot sits on a serving tray, surrounded by little tea mugs. A conspicuous basket sits open beside her. In one hand, she holds a small, red book, while in the other, she holds a small bun. The bun seems stuffed full of meat, cheese, and a sauce of some sort that dribbles down her hand. The sandwich has her full attention, wolfing it down in her usual fashion of big bites and little chewing.

Well, he promised that'd he'd get up to the spire one day with his daughter for a painting. A rented horse ride makes the distance a mere couple of hours. "So why are we all the way out here again?" Cynthia asks her father, the man in a sleeveless shirt to beat the heat. He dismounts, helping the teen down as she looks up to the large tower with curious eyes.

"Figured it'd be a good change of pace to get out of town," Warrick shrugs, tying the horse off to a hitch before ambling to the courtyard.

"Ah, there she is- Simony!" he raises a hand, the daughter peering into the monastery, herself in a sundress and shorts with a large straw hat. "Picnic for one? Looks like fun," he gestures broadly to the ensemble.

Simony's expression brightens at the sight of Warrick and Cynthia, and after inhaling the other half of the bun, she attempts to lick her hand clean. A corner of the blanket serves as an impromptu napkin. The Goblin plops a similarly large straw hat on her head, and stands up, getting caught up in the umbrella a moment, before frees herself and runs towards the two, her summer dress rippling as she goes.

Simony beelines for Warrick first, arms wide for a hug, turning towards his daughter after.

"Aww, you came to visit! I am so pleased to see you both!"

Warrick gives the little Temperance a quick, one armed hug as he does before releasing her as Cynthia blinks and gives a more proper, goblin-esque embrace. "Yuh. Dad suggested it, I ain't been up here before," Cynthia answers.

"Good to see you too," he says, putting his hands in his pockets. Warrick glances about. "Looks rather calm here today. Busy past couple days or something?"

Simony giggles at Cynthia, enjoying an extra moment of hug. "It really is a beautiful sight, yes? You can see forever from here. I'm glad you've come." The Gobbo looks to Warrick, chuckling. "It can be dangerous to do a workout in this heat, so many have found activities indoors. I wanted to sit outside for a little bit, it can feel a little claustrophobic staying inside the monastery for too long."

Her grin is broad and toothy, as she runs to fetch both the tea tray, and the basket. "We can go inside, it's cooler there. I have some frosted tea, something Telamon came up with, and I have some meat and cheese buns, if you are hungry." Her gaze focuses on Warrick then... "Are you going to be staying a while? About a painting's worth of time? We do have some unoccupied cells, if you wished to stay over the night?"

Cynthia gives the hug a few teetering wobbles before releasing her. "Yeah, it's way too hot, at least it's cooler up here than down in the city," she muses, turning her attention to see the expanse before the Redridge mountains.

Warrick nods. "Mmm. Heat's a killer," Warrick agrees. His brows raise. "Hmm? Yeah, can have something since you're offering-"

"Ooooh, frosted tea?" Cynthia peers, offering to pick some things up. ".. painting?"

Warrick smiles. "Painting's worth of time, for sure. We'll see if we have to stay the night. Need help with anything?"

Letting Cynthia carry the tea tray, Simony beckons with a hand for the two to follow her, the basket bumping off her knees as she goes. "Come inside, it is much cooler. We can relax in my cell."

The Gobbo leads them into the monastery, and through the foyer. As they head deeper into the ancient building, she points out various features and rooms. "The inscriptions on the walls detail the history of the world, you can read of many people, ancient wars and calamitous events. Heroes and gods have risen and fallen, like cities and old countries."

"Over there is the library, where more information on ancient history can be found, a bibliophile's dream for certain. Down that way is the kitchen, which feeds all of us here, including pilgrims and visitors. And this way leads to the cells."

Her cell door lays open, the room bright and cheerful due to a window high up on the wall opposite the door. Her ceiling has been painted a deep, dark blue, simulating the night sky, complete with familiar constellations and the moon. Her furniture consists of a bed, a night table, a wardrobe, a desk, and a small table, with four chairs arranged around it.

"My humble abode... well, mostly humble." Simony gestures to the fresco above. "My test run for the painting that now resides in Telamon's living room."

Cynthia wobbles a bit with the tea tray as they get lead in, her slowing down as she stares off at the inscriptions on the wall, far more focused on the tour. The tea tray is taken by Warrick, the teen not noticing at all. ".. woah," she murmurs, getting a crick in her neck from how sharply she was looking up.

She lags behind, peering into everything Simony points out. But the father jumps lazily ambles along.

Warrick finds a seat, setting the tea set down as he looks up at the fresco. "It looks great," he says, apprecating the view. "Good thing the test run looks great. Almost like you're not inside at all."

Cynthia stands at the doorway, slate eyes wide as she stares at all the paintings and the fresco. "... you... did all this..?" she mumbles.

The basket is placed onto the table next to the tea set. The Gobbo puts out three teacups, and fills each one. She pulls out a chair for Cynthia, gesturing for the teenager to have a seat. "The place is full of history.", she says with a broad grin. "You're welcome to visit as you wish, I would be more than happy to show you more of the inscriptions, and the library."

Simony tugs off her hat, baring a shaved head as she hangs the hat up on a small peg on the wall next to the door. Her blush is a deep, mottled red, spreading from her cheeks to her pointed ears. "It does have a neat effect, doesn't it? It's one way to make a space feel larger. And you're too kind, thank you, Warrick." Simony nods in reply to Cynthia's question. "Yes. I have always enjoyed sketching, and the skill has translated well to painting. The fresco above was incredibly fun to make. I had to redo sections of it a few times, but most of it was done without error."

"And I was hoping I could paint you both, a family portrait. Oh, also, how is Lomi? You could bring her along, if she is up to it, should you visit again."

Cynthia breaks out of her reverie, ambling over and taking the offered seat. "Thanks," she says out of habit, pulling her straw hat off and putting it on her lap. "I- uh.. um, sure..?" she waffles a bit in an awkward manner.

Warrick just ruffles the girl's hair. "Just let me know if you want, we can arrange that," he reassures, looking at Simony. "Keeping it shaved?" he notes about the bald head.

Picking up the tea, Warrick leans back. "Credit where credit is due is all," he says quiet. There's a smile, and a nod. "That'd be wonderful. Cynthia?"

She's focused on her tea, but she looks up suddenly. "Huh? Oh, um, yeah. We can do that. How uh, do you want me to pose?" she asks, apparently used to this sort of thing. There's a blink. "Oh, uh. Lomi's fine. Um, maybe..."

"One thing at a time, Cinny," he reassures.

The Gobbo nods her head, letting out a little sigh. "It grows funny since it was burned off. Going to keep it shaved for now, hopefully things will get back to normal eventually."

Simony steps over to pat Cynthia on the shoulder. "I was thinking you two sitting here at the table. Easy to pose while remaining relaxed, and the table with food and the tea set makes for a homey feeling." She taps her chin, "So maybe sitting across from each other, with your chairs slightly turned towards me."

The Goblin's expression clouds lightly with worry. "Has something happened to Lomi?a", she wonders.

Warrick bobs his head, him sitting up and shifting the char to match the pose request. "Mmm. Yeah, it'll do that. I'm sure there's some tinctures that can help get the skin patched up. Scar creams and what not."

Cynthia sips- well, inhales partially,- the tea, quite liking the chill of it. The pat gets her to look over, a light nod following as she gets herself adjusted. "... um? No...? She's confused.

"Lomi's fine," Warrick steps in. "They just had a little disagreement about something. Nothing to worry about," the man assuages. "A painting like that would work well in the dining room, right?

Cynthia fidgets, embarrassed. "... yeah."

Simony looks relieved. "Oh, I see. Well I hope you two patch things up soon. You two looked so happy together, when I've seen you both together." She nods to Warrick. "Probably. I've not gone looking into it, but perhaps I shall."

The Gobbo grins then. "Excellent! Give me a few moments..." She fetches a palette, and several small jars. From the jars she pours paint into the hollows in the palette. She mixes a few of the colours together to get new hues of colour.

"So, just sit easy. You can move, but try to stay in your original position as best you can." She gestures with her paintbrush at the basket. "If you're hungry, try the buns. It's chicken in a very tangy sauce, with a soft cheese spread on the insides of the bun."

"Me too..." Cynthia mumbles, picking at her fingers before idly eating something or another, the closest thing to her. Which was those buns. It smears on her face, but flavor seems to perk her mood back up.

Warrick looks at her, tapping one side of his mouth. Cynthia tilts her head, picking up a napkin and wiping there. Nothing. He taps another side. Wipe. Nothing. Amused, he takes a bun before Cynthia realizes his antics and gets the mess properly off her face. "Rude."

The man laughs, settling into a relaxed pose. "Well, if you do, let me know, I know which places to avoid down in the shops that keep you from sprouting technicolored hair. Unless you want that."

"Pfff, me with dyed hair? Wouldn't that look horrible? Not to mention stick out like a sore thumb?" Simony giggles and shrugs. "But I would take that advice, though, when I go looking." She laughs at Warrick's antics, and Cynthia's reaction.

Leaning in closer, she whispers, "Don't worry, I won't paint any sauce onto your face in the painting." She eyes Warrick for a moment before laughing again. Moving away, she sets up an easel, and settles a freshly framed, blank canvas onto it. "Okay, I'll start, so just relax..." The paintbrush is dipped in a dark coloured paint, and is made to wiggle across the canvas.

"So how old are you and Lomi, Cynthia? If you don't mind my asking? And you, as well, Rick?"

Warrick shrugs. "Depends on your definition of horrible. Really just matters what you think suits you best. I've dyed mine pink before. It wasn't my idea."

Cynthia grins sheepishly.

"That was temporary dye, thankfully."

Cynthia quietly chuckles, nodding. "If it ends up there, it ends up on there," she shrugs. Getting settled in with the teacup in her hands. "Oh, um. I'm fourteen," she answers. "Lomi is fifteen."

"They moved into the city at about the same time as Cynthia started school. I'm thirty seven," he answers. "Yourself?, Simony?"

The Goblin's grin is full of mischief at the mention of Warrick's hair being dyed pink. "Oh, I think I've heard about those shenanigans before.", she says with a snort. The brush continues to move back and forth for a time, before being dunked and swirled around in a small jar of water. A new colour is selected and the brush blurs once more as it wiggles back and forth across the canvas.

"Though I suppose pink wouldn't be a bad colour, honestly. As long as it grows evenly again." She goes quiet momentarily. "Keep in mind that uh Goblins age differently. At around nine years old, we're adults. But uhm, I have seen eighteen summers now."

Warrick chuckles as he holds still. "Yep. Such shenanigans happen quite often. I wonder who does it though..." he side eyes Cynthia again.

She just winks. "Least there's a lotta colors to choose from," she muses. "Yeah, colors can always be changed. Alchemy is... always interesting..."

Warrick gives Simony a look. "I'm aware. I live basically in Goblintown and patrolled the outskirts of it for a while. Not bad though, you're roughly equivalent my age then, yes?"

Simony laughs, "Yes, one wonders how it keeps happening. At least it is a solid colour. Imagine if there was a dye that made it so that it appeared your hair was slowly going grey? That'd be diabolical. Luckily alchemists aren't that evil."

The Gobbo snorts at Warrick. "My sympathies for having to be subjected to the wonders of Goblintown while on patrol. I would be surprised if your superiors refused to believe some of your reports." She begins to mimic writing, "At nine oh five this morning, the casino caught fire. Again. Then exploded. Again. Then a stampede of pink elephants terrorized the survivors..."

She blinks, and stares at her painting while the brush moves more quickly over the canvas, a third colour, a pale grey, is added to the mix. "Yes.", she mumbles. "Close enough."

"He doesn't need anything that greys his hair," Cynthia deadpans.

Warrick chokes on his tea. She smugly sips on hers. He recovers after a moment overlong, wiping his arm across his face. "You get used to it," he murmurs. "And I didn't patrol deeply in there, that's what the Nar's agreed to. Buuuut, yes. Lots of reports that have to have some... interesting details. I got very good at detailed work then."

Father and daughter share a look. They say nothing, but Cynthia squints at him. He clears his throat. "Something the matter, Simony?"

The Goblin's eyes widen, and she suppresses a laugh at Cynthia's comment. "Ouch, brutal, Cynthia." Nodding then to Warrick, Simony grins.

"Yes, I expect you did get quite used to having to fill out a lengthy report. Say what you will about the place, it is rarely boring. Scary at times, worrisome at others, but not boring. I imagine the monks and priests were nervous having me at first, but I have rarely had the urge to see explosions and fires. Certainly I've never given in to such urges. More than once, anyways."

She focuses on the painting once more. "N.no nothing's the matter, nothing at all." The Gobbo sighs. "Just have been fixated on something, worrying at it in my head."

Warrick rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "Always gets me with that one," he sighs. "But that is true. It's barely boring. So much happens and things are happening so quick."

Cynthia chuckles. "New things every week. New tech, new clothes, new food- especially food."

"I imagine as such, but such misconceptions easily went away, no?" Warrick points out, finishing his cup of tea. He squints lightly. "... that's not healthy, but we'll touch base about that later."

"Yes, yes, it changes all the time. Part of why you won't catch me living there. I um like it when things stay stable. New food is good, I will admit. But I don't chase fashion or thingamabobs, you know?"

The brush is soaked in water once again, and new colours are added to the palette. "I can't blame the priests though, heh, Goblins do seem to have a deep affinity for fire and explosions. But yes, they got over it pretty easily. They're happy with my dedication, which probably helped a lot. Also the fact that they are in a stone building, and there are wards that protect the books from a variety of things... fire, moisture, mildew, moss, and so on. So, not really a lot to worry about, even fire related things."

Simony nods. "It's not an unhealthy fixation, but something that just keeps running around in my head, you know? Like how sometimes you can't sleep because your brain is running full tilt with thoughts and ideas?"

"To each their own," Cynthia shrugs. "Its fun to try new things. But I get it."

Father and daughter take another round of buns, Cynthia pouring out a new cup of tea, as well as topping Simony's cup off. "And there's makari that go against the grain that their kin do," Warrick shrugs. "Dedication is what matters. That is neat though, that the tomes here are protected in such a manner."

The man's gaze softens, dipping to the table. "... yeah. I know how you mean. Been similar as of late," he sighs. "Hard to sort it out."

Cynthia peers from over her teacup, sipping.

"I try to take new things slowly.", the Gobbo says softly. "But I understand, new things can be fun. Though, sometimes too much fun. Baby steps for me." She grins brightly. "And I am happy that you like new things, Cynthia. It's a sign of an open mind." Simony slips over to the table to enjoy her tea, downing it fairly quickly.

"Thank you for refilling my cup. And yes, they have learned from others. While they are protective of the books, it is the knowledge they fear losing most." She taps at her forehead as she returns to the easel. "People forget. People die. But properly maintained books will keep our collective knowledge safe. You know the saying... Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it? That's what books do for us, help us remember, so we don't make the mistakes of the past."

She lets out a breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean to start a sermon... I am just passionate about books and knowledge."

The Gobbo's expression grows thoughtful, and she nods. "Yes, it is hard to sort things out, especially if it is new, or just remembered."

Cynthia shrugs. "Just trying to figure out what looks interesting. Been dabbling into alchemy and stuff, that's been pretty interesting," she shrugs before nodding. "No prob."

Warrick takes a sip of his tea. "Yeah. I know what you mean. I keep on top of reading current things, as well as past things so that others won't repeat those mistakes. And I agree with that completely," he smiles, waving off the concern.

He looks off to the window. "... it is. Especially when remembered."

Cynthia rolls her eyes. "He's been moody."

"Alchemy can be interesting, certainly! And if you're getting the hang of it, well, it could be a fun and interesting path in life. Not to mention, profitable. Ladies like to dye their hair, and of course, gentlemen may wish to disguise the fact that they are greying. Though, perhaps not with pink dye."

The brush moves methodically now, with colours having been changed out several times. Simony looks sad for a few moments, nodding. "I understand.", she says quietly.

Looking to Cynthia, the Goblin nods. "For a good reason, I think, Cynthia."

"I just sell some alchemist's kindness on occasion for pocket change," Cynthia says, shifting her feet in the chair. "The temple of Alethea's book has quite a lot on the subject. But yes... greying hair mask."

Warrick shakes his head after watching Simony. "Best to meditate on it. That's what I've been doing."

Cynthia sighs. "... no, it's a dumb reason."

"It's good pocket money, I trust?", Simony asks quietly. "I am glad that the book has been helpful. You are borrowing it? If you uhm... want a copy, I could transcribe one for you."

Her head dips down at Warrick's suggestion, and she offers the barest of shrugs. "I suppose... it may help and nothing bad could come of some meditation. I'll sleep on it, then ponder meditation." Her eyes narrow at Cynthia's response.

"If it's what I believe it to be... it is /not/ a dumb reason."

Cynthia shakes her head. "I bought one. Thank you though, you're already doing a lot." She squints back at Simony. "No the reason isn't dumb but the reason is he's waffling about talking to-"

"Cynthia," Warrick clears his throat, cutting in. His face tinged red.

She throws her hands up. "The pie was good, man."

He buries his face into a hand. "Anyways. We need to keep still."

The Goblin is silent for a time, the only sound being the gentle sound of a paintbrush moving across the canvas. Soon, the paintbrush drops into the jar of water with a clatter, and the easel is carefully turned around.

The father and daughter have been faithfully recreated in paint, with a few changes to the scene. Only two cups are present upon the table, as well, only two chairs are arranged around it. Warrick's hair has not even a hint of grey, and the reddish-gold colour has been made richer. Cynthia has an obvious glow about her, the glow of youthfulness. Cynthia and Warrick sit opposite each other, partially turned towards the viewer, looking as if to greet the viewer. Above them, the ceiling and it's deep blue colour, and familiar stars, with the sun streaming in through the window, casting shadows upon the floor.

Simony smiles faintly, nodding. "I understand. It can be difficult to explain your feelings to someone else, when you yourself are not entirely sure what it is that you're feeling. And the fear of being turned down is often enough to keep people from expressing their feelings."

The Gobbo lets out a quiet breath. "So... what do you think?"

Warrick and Cynthia sit still as Simony finishes her painting. They throw occasional glances at each other, the teen sticking her tongue out on occasion. Warrick chuckling. But they cease as the easel turns. And both lean in.

The painting certainly captured the youth of Cynthia. Straight black hair with a smattering of freckles with slate eyes, brimming with curiosity. Without that cloud of responsibility hanging over her young head. She grins.

Warrick's eyes soften, a smile spreading across his face. "And not a spec of gray, heh," he grins, looking at the fresco painting. "This looks great. You did a great job, Simony."

The man stymies, face turning a tinge red on his pale face as he glances away. But he rubs his neck. "I... understand."

"Oh my Seriel shut up, dad," Cynthia groans, smacking his arm. "This thing looks great, Simony!"

She grins wide.

Simony offers a deep bow in return. "Your compliments are ample payment. It needs a little bit of time to properly dry, so if it is alright with you, I could deliver it to you in a day or two, yes?" Her grin is broad and toothy. "Of course, I wanted something to make you smile. I was tempted to add a very light shade of pink, almost the colour of your cheeks right now. But I felt that a nice reddish gold was much better."

The Gobbo grins at Cynthia. "Now now. I was able to guess, because I am feeling the same way. It is a difficult thing to overcome. It's ... a new thing to me, see." Simony reaches into the basket, pulling out one of the remaining buns. She bites into it, and wolfs down almost half in one go, swallowing awkwardly. "Anyone still a little hungry, there are a few buns left!"

Warrick chuckles, shaking his head. "That'd be funny, yes. But that is fine, I look forward to the delivery. I'll get it hung up in the dining room."

But that gets him to blink at Simony. A few thoughts surface into his head, but they're quickly dashed away. "... it's tough, but doesn't need to be fleeting," he sighs before shaking his head.

Cynthia falls quiet, her fidgeting again. "... yeah..." she mumbles.

There's an awkward air.

Then Warrick reaches in, grabbing two buns, "Well if you aren't going to eat it, I will, riding that horse took a lot out of me."

Cynthia flails at him, "Hey! Gimmie that!"

-End Scene-