Scaling and Weeping

A chill wind gusts along the mountain road, tossing about the ever-falling snow across the exposed landscape. The city below has the comparative shelter of the ridge, itself, but atop it is not the case. Activity to and from the airstation and/or temple does keep the roadway relatively clear; whether by necessary maintenance work or the passing of travellers, themselves.

Perhaps the only other sheltered location, the stone residence upon the ridge between the other two landmarks releases woodsmoke from its chimney along with the scents of freshly-baked goods. While the portico's table and chairs are currently unoccupied, they are sheltered from the snow (less so from the wind).

Ice and winds, unceasing snow. That's a long way to get up there. What better way than to go as the crow flies. Or as the monkey climbs?

There is a knock at the window. The one that is over the kitchen. At the back of the abode. A scarred mul woman with glowing eye is peering in, the top of a white pom-pom of a knitted hat bobbing as she stands on her tip toes, frost caking her eyerbrows. It's Aryia.

A knock at the door would be more expected, if not so frequent given the current weather. One upon the window (and on the cliff-facing side!) is rather unsettling. Verna looks from her tidying of dishes with a start and a small clatter. She stares at the window and face therein for a moment before recognition and reason resume.

Her expression softens to a slight smile as she dries her hands on her apron and moves towards the door to the rear patio and garden adjacent to the window. "You should be aware that the doors are perfectly functional," she offers through the window with gestures of now-dry hands before she uses them to unlock and unlatch the door.

Aryia gives a toothy grin as she seems to aptly startle the Mourner. "I'm aware."

The cliff racer promptly slides inside after being let in. "Besides, if you weren't here, I would have let myself in," she jokes before dusting herself off of snow and ice. "I hope you're well?" <Handspeech/Tongues>

work is a known thing."

Verna steps back to allow her guest entry (and to shed snow). While she is aware that Aryia is jesting about self-entry, her prior slender smile presses to a line. "I do not recommend inviting one's self inside. Many of the defensive measures in place do not readily differentiate between one unexpected visitor and another. Not to mention the highly-capable guard animal patrolling the residence." One hand gestures to Hunter sprawled upon her chair near the burning hearth, basking in its radiance.

Regarding her inquiry, Verna takes a moment to consider before noting (both in gesture and aloud), "Well enough, if not as much as I would prefer."

"I'm sure I can deal with whatever defensive measures you have, but that thing will beat my ass," Aryia jabs a thumb over to the apex predator. Speaking of, she ambles over to the little creature, kneeling and giving them a single digit scritch behind the ear.

She looks over her shoulder, quirking a brow. "That is the primary reason why I clambered up here, since you left with some poetically vague shit when I was knitting." Scritch. <Handspeech/Tongues>

The notion of Hunter and Aryia engaged in battle and the former utterly paralyzing the latter by simply curling up upon her lap is... quite feasible, from Verna's experence. Not to mention from Aryia's current doting. The slender smile returns, though only for a fleeting moment.

"My apologies," Verna offers, again in both gesture and word. "I was especially morose that day. A number of events occurred as of late. Events that require corrective action, which we currently arrange to take. Your presence here is always welcome, of course, yet now also convenient. I intended to converse with you on matters, yet within the park whilst you were knitting was neither the proper location nor situation."

Aryia gives Hunter a final stroke, ending with a brush down the danger belly, but leaving them alone for the time being otherwise as she all but throws herself on the couch. Boots are kicked off, as is jacket and hat. "It was a rather terrible place to talk about anything of substance," the lounging pugilist agrees, eyeing the hearth for a beat before looking over towards Verna. "So... why is Vardama sad?" she rolls a hand questioningly. Damn, right to the point. <Handspeech/Tongues>

"Indeed," Verna concurs. "I did not wish to dampen the Yuletide spirt, as one might state." She moves to the the table to acquire the tea service as well as a plate of recently-fashioned fruit pastries. All are set within reach of Aryia at the low table near the couch. It is more efficient than inquiring of her wants and then acting: she is welcome to indulge or not as she wishes. She is, in Verna's mind, family in all but name.

"The Great Cycle is disrupted. The Scales are imbalanced," Verna explains as she takes a seat in a chair opposite the couch. "It is for that that She weeps..." a pause before she adds, "and that the cause is a theft from one of Her Own faithful."

"Fair point," Aryia concurs, slowly shifting to have her legs over the back of the couch. The platter of pastries certainly grabs her attention, and a few are taken readily, one being consumed while partially inverted. She gives a grateful grunt.

The explanation makes a brows furrow. "So something has gotten immortality or something? Did you like, swipe the Hourglass of Life or some shit?" she asks, throwing things out there. <Handspeech/Tongues>

Verna shakes her head slightly. "No. While evasion of death is the most common blasphemy against The Cycle, such is not the case in this instance." She regards the somewhat inverted Aryia a moment as she organizes her thoughts. She then shifts slightly from explanatory statements to, presumably, expositional context... and with a return inquiry of her own. "How familiar are you with the fae Queen of Air and Darkness?"

The name gets Aryia's relaxed yet pensive visage and posture to sinch up tightly. "I've met them. Borrowed something from them for a little while to deal with some fiend shit. Her mere presence was..." she shudders. "Made me act in ways I intensely dislike. What does this have to deal with that-" she stops herself. Shifting the sign to something more... acceptable. "-Person." <Handspeech/Tongues>

"We discovered that she had ties to another fiend, a daemon," Verna returns to statements. "The same one that was active here in Alexandria and was involved in my own abduction. Such also aligned the fae Queen with Lady Varyssa, all of which appeared quite unusual." She pauses, collecting a pastry for herself, though she regards it more than consumes any of it.

"It was further unveiled that the Queen's son and heir, who by all accounts is rather reprehensible perhaps even by fae standards, is infertile. Her line would be unable to continue. Thus she sought unholy efforts to alter this future fate." Now a small bite is taken, chewed, swallowed. "When the fiend was subsequently destroyed or banished," Verna may remain uncertain as to the ultimate fate, "she took further action. A thief was sent, empowered to travel within The Dreaming yet effect change in our realm. That individual stole from me the spark that enables one to create new life, thus disrupting The Cycle."

Not even the gods could stop the eye roll that went to the back of Aryia's skull at the mention of daemon consorting. "And I thought man was stupid, I thought fae were supposed to be clever with their deals."

She stops chewing on her third pastry (where did the second one go?), blinking at Verna. "... firstly, that sucks, I'm sorry. Second- how in the fuck does someone /steal/ that? Third, do I need to curb stomp this dumb fucker?" she quickly signs, growing more frustrated at the situation. <Handspeech/Tongues>

Verna nod slightly at the first comment, lips pursing. "Thank you. It is not an aspect that I had considered, much less its loss. Admittedly, it is the fact that my Matron weeps for -me- that I find most distressing..." She does not offer an answer to the second, and may not have any more insight on that than Aryia.

"We intend to venture to her realm to confront the Queen," she notes concerning the last inquiry. "If you wished to aid us, your presence is ever welcome. Alternatively, if you might keep alert on the residence while we are away, it would be appreciated. All of the Lupecyl-Atlons intend to venture there. While I do not expect us to be away long, Quelynos and related realms do not experience time in the same manner as the material."

"That is.. concerning," Aryia gestures slowly. "I don't want to think of the implications."

She rights herself, leaning forth to partake of tea to wash it down. "I would not mind aiding, however-" she holds up a finger. "-In order to resist her presence, only those that have their true love with them can counter it. Last time I saw her, I was..." She trails off before shaking her head. "... I had this overwhelming urge to impress her, and I failed to sew her a new dress."

"I would be defenseless," she finishes, frowning. "While I am great, I know my limits, and having myself mind controlled versus the Lupecyl-Atlons, uh... I respect all of your respective power but if I land a single blow on any of you will true intent to harm, you all would fold. So unless you know away around that..." <Handspeech/Tongues>

"I can presume only that she would corrupt and pervert what was taken for her own ends," Verna concurs, her words more quiet than those prior. While she may not wish to think upon such, either, she likely has done so, regardless.

Aryia's subsequent revelations concerning the queen cause her brows to lift: it appears that she may know far more of this fae than Verna. "Intriguing. I was not aware that she possessed such ... influence." Her lips purse now in concern.

"Whilst I consider you far from defenseless, I fully acknowledge and understand your concerns. I found myself in similar situations more than once." Her purse becomes a frown. "Oft within one of the fae realms, as well..."

Her dwelling on the thought is sidelined for the moment as she regards Aryia. "I am personally acquainted with the force of your blows, Aryia, and certainly did not forget as much. I cannot guarantee the safety of any on this venture, though we will take all possible steps to gird ourselves against all conceived threats."

"Her sheer presence is enough to bring low those that do not have that stipulation present," Aryia affirms before scoffing. "Trust me, you haven't been hit by full force. Since I know my limits, I know my heights, and those heights would be devastating if aimed in the wrong direction."

She rubs her cheek. "I am willing to attempt to be with on this venture- you lot do need someone in the front after all. But understand having me with you is a massive liability." <Handspeech/Tongues>

Verna nods once more at this valuable information, even if it also deepens her frown. "Understood, and I will certainly take measures against such influence, as well as necessary steps to remediate such a potential situation. I will not allow any to harm one another, to include themselves, as best as I am able to prevent."

She is quiet for a few beats to further formulate before she advises, "This venture shall not be to seek her aid, of course, but rather direct confrontation. Some seek to despose her, if not to destry her outright. Given this shall occur within her demenses, I expect that she shall be far from the only threat with which me must contend." A sigh is loosed. "While I am not joyous that all whom I hold dear shall be involved, I welcome your presence and aid."

The frown wobbles and upturns for a moment. "She is most assuredly deserving of a blow to the face, if not several."

Aryia takes the information in, leaning back against the couch and mulling with her teacup. It's a long silence, the kind that seems a touch too long for normal conversation, but is a norm in such talks with Sildanyari.

She raises a hand. "I would /really/ enjoy decking that smug fucking face," she muses 'aloud'. Aryia smirks at Verna. "If I can then, I'll help." <Handspeech/Tongues>

"Indeed, I expect that you would," Verna affirms, if redundantly. "I will keep you informed of our plans and itinerary." She now takes an indulgent bite from her loitering pastry, posture and expression softening as she consumes it. "How have you fared these past weeks? A quiet and productive time, I hope?" she inquires with no small amount of curiosity. Some time has passed since they conversed, especially in a casual fashion.

Aryia gives a crisp thumbs up before going back to sprawling out on the couch in no manner dissimilar to that of Hunter. "Been okay. Snow has kept the tournaments out, but there seems to be a lot to do in the snow. Been making clothes for people in the meantime to help ward off the chill."

The Mul takes a large breath. "Aside from that, kind of bored. Was wanting to sail to the Jade Islands, but the portmaster isn't letting anyone out until this passes. Haven't let up on training though. Got some tricks up my sleeve." She jabs a thumb towards where she came in from. "Getting to your balcony is good practice." <Handspeech/Tongues>

Verna's eyes shift to the window. "Scaling the Redridge is a challenge, I expect. To some. To others, impossible without magical means." Admittedly, her tone suggests she has not attempted such. "I have come to relish more quiet and peaceful days; I learned long ago to readily occupy myself. Though perhaps I became complacent, given that I was quite limited in mobility for a time. I am pleased that you do well."

A consideration or recollection and then brows lift. "You mentioned before that you were defenseless. Does that imply that you have no true love to shield yourself? Or simply that you would not endanger them?"

Aryia looks back briefly. Then grins. "Turns out, if you go fast enough, even cliffs are just things to run on," she signs. "I agree though, I do enjoy the quiet and peace. I will take it over the suffering wholesale. I can help you be get out of being complacent. We can go on a run?" She smiles.

The pugilist's lips drop a touch. "At the time, I hadn't anyone. And presently, I haven't anyone. My abode is very quiet." She glances down briefly, but shrugs. "It's what it is. I have friends and, importantly, myself." <Handspeech/Tongues>

"Perhaps it is far overdue that I visit your abode, perhaps to present confections in barter for clothing?" Verna offers... while intentionally making no mention of running. "As well as remind that a lack of partner does not mean you are not loved."

Now at that, Aryia gives a simple smile. No cockiness, and no smugness. "Worry not, Verna. I know that very well. It's not the first, nor will it be the last. These things come and go. It is a fact that I am well versed in."

Peering outside at the weather, she pulls forward a small bag, pulling out a length of string. "You can come visit. But it seems I am stuck here for the time being. I need to update your measurements, so we can properly barter. I have a desire for many cookies. And scones." <Handspeech/Tongues>

-End Scene-