Slip of the Tongue

Log Info

• Title: Slip of the Tongue
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Verna
• Place: Southern Banks of Tornmawr
• Time: October 19th, 2021
• Summary: Aryia is contemplating some things and accidently falls into the freezing river. Verna, in her flying cauldron, helps fish out the frigid mul'neissa. Landing on the bridge, both get dried from a cantrip as the cauldron is emptied. Aryia asks some more language questions, her confused by some recent developments. Which moves on to difficulties that outer planar beings like to induce. Still not understanding why Verna would help Aryia out, Aryia ends up suggesting they talk over some food and/or drink to hammer out how they can aid the mute woman.

Southern Banks of Tornmawr, Midday

Fall weather has settled in for certain now, the chilly air and grey mists from the sea scatter summertime activities of the banks. Less time in the water, and more on the shore, with a few more blankets and jackets to ward of the cold.

Though, perhaps someone didn't get the memo, as sitting atop one of the wooden structural support beams over the water was a mul'neissa woman in a closed verdant green jacket. Perhaps she'd been there long enough, having had her fill of an eccentric resting spot before standing on the small landing and pivoting around to climb up the brick siding. Though, all the mist made things damp

Slip!

"F-ck."

Down she falls, feet first, arms flailing. Right into the frigid waters.

Splash!

The Tornmawr is possibly popular this day, at least in the context of the chill and gray, as another travels down it. Above it, in fact, as the form floats a half-dozen feet above the waterline. It is not distinct and apparent until rather near, due to the fog and its own coloration.

The bulbous black bottom appears very much a large kettle or cauldron of iron, while the upper portion is hooded. Between the two, the hood's cloak extends to drape over the lower, forming something of an impromptu tent. Further fog appears to leak out from the overlap on occassion.

Sounds of a sudden splash cause the hood to turn towards, followed by a slight adjustment in course. Once nearer, Verna's voice emits from the hood. "Do you require any assistance?"

The surface breaks soon after, as a familiar looking mul'neissa briskly made their way back to air. Her cheeks were puffed out and a massive scowl intercepted by wet strands of white plastered to her face. If there was a picture definition for pouting, her face would be it.

Treading water easily, she looks up to...

Huh? Is that...? A floating? What?

Shoving aside her precognitions about eccentric mages, the shivering elf gives a nod and reaches a hand up towards any sort of handhold on the... floating metal tub.. thing.

With that nod, Verna pulls her cloak back from over the 'metal tub thing' to reveal the rim as a handhold... and that it could very much be a large wrought- or cast-iron cauldron. It is also quote warm, and the heated vapor that now emerges forth adds to the mist.

The conveyance lowers further, the bottom dipping into the river to make the rim more accessible even as Verna extends a hand to offer assistance. "This does not appear ideal weather for swimming."

This was just so odd. Aryia almost considers swimming the rest of the way to the bank, but the chill settling into her bones was culling her distrust. Besides, Verna wasn't the worst mage to run into. At least she didn't cast anything without warning her. Yet.

The mute grips onto the side of the cauldron, the warmth surprising her and making her want to seek such shelter. Aryia shakes her head sharply, as if saying, 'hell no it isn't.' Another hand clasps onto the offered one, wet and frigid, and the fullblood hoists herself up. Having no footholds, her boots splash a bit in the water before she teeters forward and falls into the cauldron with a little clang.

Fortunately for Aryia, the tumble is cushioned by... water. Unlike that of the Tornmawr, however, that in the cauldron is at a comfortable, even toasty 'hot soak' temperature. Not enough to harm, though it could be a bit skin-flushing to jump into.

"You should be able to warm yourself again easily enough," Verna notes. It is also worth noting that, despite the temperature, that she is not currently bathing; there is no soap in the water, and she is also clothed beneath the cloak draped outside of the cauldron. Plainly and somewhat minimally, but clothed. There is also just room enough for them both without becoming uncomfortably crowded.

"Do you wish transport to anywhere specific?"

Aryia is surprised to find even more water, her splashing again for the second time. At least she was already soaked, so the warmth was welcome. Reminded her of the TarRaCe. Unlike that though, she was fully clothed, and wasn't looking forward to drying them out.

Her head pops up past the rim, brows knitted as undoes a silver ribbon in her hair. "... what?" she motions flatly, perplexed beyond measure, with a familiar expression of being presented a number of magical oddities that only a layman could express.

She wrings her hair out, ribbon held in her lips. "... uh. No, I was just relaxing and then... fell in. What are you... what is this?" <Handspeech>

"I returned from a venture to the north of the city," Verna explains. "The Temple has no only restricted access along with the others, but has need of quite the unusual variety of items and components. This," she gestures to the interior, " is my conveyance. It is far more comfortable than walking or straddling a horse or even a carriage. I can read or study en route. It is useful for preparing a hot meal or hot bath while on a journey, and can be inverted to serve as shelter if the need arises. A rather practical collection of enchantments, in my opinion."

Noting the hair-wringing, she adds, "I could remove the water and expedite your drying, if you wished."

The topic of the temples being closed makes a sort of flat expression cross Aryia's features as well as a little eye roll off to the side. "Right. Yes. That. It's kind of a pain in the ass with them being closed."

Still dripping, she raises a brow, flicking her hands off of water. "I guess. It'd be kind of loud in the rain if you slept in it through..."

The mute holds onto the side a bit tightly, slowly realizing that she was in a floating metal bowl that could potentially have hundreds of feet of nothing underneath it. "Uh... sure? That'd help. It took me a long time to make this jacket and I don't want to have to make another one." <Handspeech>

Verna nods, taking note of Aryia's discomfort and grip. Their conveyance moves from the river's surface to fly upwards and over to street level adjacent to the eastern accessway to the bridge. There, it settles to land on the cobblestones. "It would be more comfortable for us to exit before pouring out the water," she explains. Inverting it unexpectedly could be quite unfortable, most especially for Aryia. Verna then moves to climb over the side, herself, her gray robes and cloak falling to cover her as usual.

It's clear this is the first time Aryia had ever been in this sort of situation: magical flight in any capacity. Her stance was wide in the cauldron to keep her balance. Only to relax once they hit solid ground. And the mute woman was already out of the arcane contraption the second the word 'exit' was uttered.

She does, at least, offer a hand to Verna to help her out. Was only fair.

Verna accepts the aid; while the deep walls of the cauldron makes for cover, blocks the wind, and allows for plenty of soaking water, it is a bit of a hinderance to those who are vertically-challenged. "Thank you."

Once she is upon solid ground, and now dripping beneath her outwear, she gestures to herself and makes a brief incantation. Over the span of several seconds, she ceases to drip and her robes regain their false volume with the lack of damp.

The same hand then turns in Aryia's direction, though does not gesture; instead, she inquires, "May I?" Aryia's lack of familiarity and/or comfort with magic is somewhat apparent, given their recent interactions.

Aryia gives a little nod at the gratitude, her watching the effects of the arcane unfold before her. That, coupled with the request for consent, eases some of the shivering full blood's worries.

She gives a thumbs up, trembling in her boots as she does so. Though, she does ask, "Why is there water in there in the first place?" <Handspeech>

Verna nods at the assent and makes the same quick gesture with the same brief words. The effect is not wholly instantaneous, and more akin to greatly accelerated evaporation that starts at Aryia's torso and works outward (just without the cooling effect). In a few seconds, her clothing is dry, and cleaned of any muck it might have collected.

"In the cauldron? I conjured the water into it. The venture was tiring, and somewhat muddy, not to mention the day's chill. It made for a more comfortable return trip. My apologies that I did not warn you prior to your entry."

Speaking of the water, Verna glances to the cauldron, causing it to rise over the river before upending itself to dump its contents. A bit more mostly-clean water will not pollute anything. The cauldron then rights itself and floats to land in its prior position.

A sigh of relief leaves Aryia, her straightening out her jacket and smoothing down her pants. "Thanks," she gestures, taking the silver ribbon into her hands once more and tying her hair back to be free of her eyes.

She watches the cauldron tip over and empty. "It's fine. Rather deal with that than the freezing river."

Getting some inkling of warmth back in her core, she shifts on her feet as she signs a bit less stiffly. "Thanks again. Saved me from being cold all the way to the Fernwood." She pauses for a moment, inspecting the smaller half-mul in front of before framing a question. "Hey, you're... good with languages, right? I think you mentioned something about that the other day..." <Handspeech>

"It was no trouble," Verna responds, now with her hands. "I make an effort to learn most language that I encounter, whenever possible. I enjoy discovering new knowledge, and a language is a further gateway to ever more." A pause before she follows with an inquiry, "Is there something with which you wish assistance?"

Aryia shifts on her feet, her turning some so that their backs were to the bridge and their hands flit about the edge of it. Her face pinches in rememberance, and confusion. "Yes. There... some friends and I were helping with some of that temple stuff the other night. And we ran into this... weird goat head head thing. Like, half goat, half man with a lot of horns. I think it was some fucked up thing an alchemist made-"

She shakes her head, getting off track. "Anyways. It was talking in a lot of weird tongues, swapping between different languages. I couldn't understand any of it. Except... this feels weird to say, but I felt like I understand what it was saying in one of them. <Handspeech>

Verna considers this information for several moments, her hands lowering. "Intriguing... There are many examples of amalgamations, chimaeras, or creatures that are a joining of one or more others. A number of demons or devils can bear such semblances, as well." Another pause for thought. "Is it possible that it spoke a language which you did not realize you could comprehend? Alternatively, some creatures, especially those from other planes, can often speak in all lanuages at once, or have mana imbued in their words; all who hear them would understand their meaning, regardless."

Aryia scowls at the mention of demons and devils, her absentmindedly cracking her knuckles at the thought of having to deal with them.

She blinks, confusion blooming all over her face. "I mean... it looked like no one understood what they were saying except me. What... do you mean? How could I know something like that? Aside from speaking Sildanyari and Undercommon, I don't know anything else."

A beat. "Aside from the obvious ones." <Handspeech>

Verna takes notice of the knuckles, and cracking thereof. "I am certainly no friend to outsiders, such as demon and devils, though I would advise caution when dealing with such." The clarification on the lanugage provokes more thought. "Ah, that -is- somewhat more puzzling, if you were, indeed, the sole being who discerned its meaning. That implies something different about you," she notes with a point in her direction. "Either it chose to only reveal its words to you, possibly through some form of mental contact, or some facet of yourself allowed you to understand it where others could not. A forgotten lanugage, perhaps some lingering magic in your bloodline that had not previously surfaced. There are several possible explanations."

"I've killed some," is all the mute comments about outsiders, and leaves it at that.

Aryia blinks as she's pointed at. "... magic? I can barely even use my mul'nessian magic," she elaborates, growing rather perturbed and looking at her hands. "I don't even know how to start even figuring something like that out. Shit, I don't even know how to describe what language it was." <Handspeech>

"It is only a possibility," Verna reiterates, "and one of several. I can aid you to decipher the information into a more probable or even definitive conclusion, but there is not yet enough information."

She seems to circle back to the first, brief comment, as she notes, "As have I... and was, myself, slain by others. I strongly recommend that you avoid the latter."

Aryia rubs her neck. "I... would appreciate that. That's nice of you to offer, you barely know me. It's... kind of what I was thinking about before I fell into the water."

The circle back makes her rest on her back foot. "Yes. I'm aware I should avoid them. And I do. I've had..." The mute's gaze looks off to the side, the glow in her eyes dimming to a faint shimmer. "... have. Someone close to me succumbed to them. But-" she shakes her head, "-that's neither here or there. I'm aware of what I'm capable of, and strive to avoid what I'm not." <Handspeech>

Verna lifts one brow slight. "Do you expect, were I to know you better, that it would increase or decrease my offer of assistance?" It could be a genuine question, or perhaps rhetorical humor? In any case, it is asked quite deadpan. "I am a proponent of knowledge: it's discovery and dissemination. I would be hypocritical if I did not aid others in its pursuit."

The change in state and direction of her gaze is recognized, but not questioned further. "I meant no insult to your capabilities. That you know them and work within them is better than some, perhaps most; that more than covers my concerns."

Aryia really could not tell if it was a joke or not, her scratching the side of her head. "... yes, actually," she finally answers before sighing and shaking her head. "I suppose. You seem important and have important things to do, rather than help out a stranger you barely know with something minor."

Her shoulders raise and settle. "No insult taken. I'm a bit used to being around others that are a lot stronger than me, so... it's important know what I shouldn't be shoving my face in." <Handspeech>

"It is a Mourner's duty to support the community and not only in funerary concerns," Verna expounds. "You are a member of this community. Who is to judge your concerns to be any less important than those of others? In any case, I am willing to assist however I may."

Again, Aryia scratches her head. "... you'd be surprised how many others tend to forget the little guy and get them caught up in their shit," the mute mentions, but continues to gesture, "but I feel as if you know that already."

The full blooded elf shoves her hands in her pockets and looks over the river for a few moments. Watching the bank as if she was recounting a memory there. A sigh, and her hand raises. "I need help with a lot of things," she starts, "Some people close to me are either dead or gone. And it's making it difficult for me to figure out things about myself, and my past." <Handspeech>

Verna purses her lips at the first comment and nods. "That can be a complicated matter, but, yes, I am aware. I have, at times, involved others in tasks that I undertook, perhaps without proper consideration to the risks to them. Thus, I now evaluate more thoroughly and differently than in the past."

She falls quiet as Aryia shifts her eyes to the river's bank and explains. "I understand the compounded difficulties of your situation and circumstances. I may be capable of some assistance with the past, dependent on what it is that you seek to understand. Research into ancient and forgotten mysteries of the past is one of my aptitudes."

Aryia can't help but chuff, her kicking a pebble at her feet and shaking her head. "Ancient? I'm not /that/ old, now. I'm a decade over a hundred. Not thousands," she jokes, unsure if it'd be well received from how deadpan the Mourner had been. Dead pan. Mourner. Heh.

Another sigh, the light smile smoothing back out as the dimmed gaze returns to Verna. "Only if you want to. I know... whatever the fuck is going on with the Temples is kind of important for people. Especially someone like you." <Handspeech>

"I must presume that the matter is of extreme importance, given the unilateral cooperation between the temples as well as the secrecy and security," Verna admits. "However, this caution extends to the clergy, as well. At this moment, I am no more informed of the matters at hand than yourself or any other."

She then eyes Aryia pointedly, though neutrally. "In the context of your lifetime, I am barely a child. My mother will long outlive myself and my father, though that may well have been her intent all along."

Aryia shrugs. "Perhaps. I just hope it's not more demon shit," is all she says about that.

She eyes Verna as well, a brow raising. "Relatively speaking, I am barely an adult. But I see what you mean." Once more, another sigh leaves her, and she drags a hand down her face. There was no comment about the family matters, as she herself wasn't well versed in such things. "Perhaps you and I should talk over drinks or tea or something. Since you're wanting to help me." <Handspeech>

"It would allow me to better undertand what you know and wish to know, thus aid me in aiding you," Verna agrees, adding after a pause, "Also, the company would be appreciated, though I feel obligated to warn: in the opinions of my students, and many colleagues, I was deemed rather un-entertaining."

Aryia can't help but silently chuckle and shake her head. "You do realize that I can't talk. Most of the time I have to sit there while others talk and talk and talk and I can only nod along. Don't worry, you'll be more entertaining than a brick wall, I'm sure."

That was a... compliment?

"Let's go find something then." <Handspeech>

-End Scene-