The Colour of Snow
Log Info
- Title: The Colour of Snow
- Emitter: Paenitia
- Characters: Paenitia, Faranmidahn, Seyardu, Stjepan
- Place: A03: The TarRaCe
- Time: Monday, May 24, 2021, 11:17 PM
- Summary: Sister Paenitia and Sir Faranmidahn meet up, with their mounts, at the Tarrace for a meal and drinks. They are joined by Seyardu, and briefly by Stjepan. Conversation topics range, from familial relations to the perception of colour. Paenitia shares her story of dealing with the Wicked Stirrings in the Felwood which trapped time. Faranmidahn reveals that Cryosanthia is her sister, to some surprise among the others. Seyardu is surprised, thinking the two Lucht Knights to be related instead, which they both laugh about. Paenitia leaves to arrange food for Ramirez, and siverscale and the albino Lucht discuss Seyardu's colourblindness and alternatives of 'white' that are not related to dragons.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A03: The TarRaCe *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Inside, this two-story structure has been almost completely opened up. Generous windows on both stories allow daytime sunlight and cooling night breezes to flow in as needed, while the brick walls have been whitewashed - contrasting with the dark-stained beams and supports, and the rich polish on the wooden floor. A broad strip of stone runs from the entrance to a framed doorway set into the opposite wall, with a sign above the lintel declaring that the baths are to be found that way.
The ground floor is sprinkled with tables and chairs of assorted sizes, offering welcome to guests both large and small. One whole corner of the building - into which guests are not permitted entry - has been given over to the kitchen, which serves as the domain of the famed monster chef Ligum Serforus. Mundane meals are available, but the chef delights in offering up obscure dishes made from the freshest of monster ingredients.
Opposite the kitchen a small bar runs in front of an array of shelves, displaying a broad selection of beverages (most of them alcoholic). The bar-top has been fashioned from what looks to have been old pieces of armor, fused and welded together before being polished to provide a near-smooth finish. Set above it, three human-sized statues have been built into an alcove in the wall: Tarien, Rada and Ceinara jointly keep benevolent watch over the room and its occupants.
To the right of the entrance, a small stage offers a platform for a handful of performers at a time. To the left of the door, a spiral staircase of wrought iron winds its way up to a balcony dining area, that is chiefly reserved for special events and parties.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Apearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Faranmidahn 3'3" 35 Lb Halfling Female Albino Lucht woman. Knight of Spiders. So, SO Fluffy. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Stjepan 8'0" 534 Lb Giantborn Male Big, blonde jotun. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Outside, a cool breeze blows dark clouds which obscure the night sky. Elsewhere, the stars glitter.
Inside, it is a quiet evening. The Tarrace has no band, no menu of unusual creatures. Although, one occupies much of the restaurant. A giant white peacock-andalusian. Having made his way in once before, he will not stay without. At least without a struggle and it is empty enough he fits even if occupies most of one wall.
Seated near the magical creature, is a small Lucht knight, in Red in a right-sized chair. She has a drink in front of her, and a small meal.
Entering the Tarrace with some alarm, another Lucht Knight, one of black and violent over alabaster and ivory; this one joined by a black spider the size of a well fed mastiff.
Faran holds up a hand with a smile to the door attendant, "It's alright, he's well behaved, and I fed him, earlier." Ahem, "Just... stay away from his face."
Also, riding on her shoulder is a small coconut spider.
There's a look around the room as the little Knight brightens and leads her friends to another reasonably sized Knight and her partner, "Hola!" she offers warmly, "and well met!"
"Hola! Sir Faranmidan!" Paenitia slips out of her chair and bows deeply towards the other knight. She waves at her table, "Come, sit, eat."
She waves at a space beside Ramirez, "Torrent, he can sit there."
She tells her peacock-andalusian, "Ramirez, friends. Eat the bowl." There is a large bowl in front of the hippogryph, filled with many things like nuts, berries and hay, and hopefully not spiders.
Faranmidahn smiles brightly, "Sister Paenitia, Brave Ramirez, it's a delight to see you both!" She tap-taps Torrent on the side and the arachnid settles on his belly next to the table where he stands and the Knight climbs into a chair, "I'm... not sure you've all met, and last time the poor dear was tired so I let her rest." The little fluffy spider crawls down along her arm to the table and waves a foreleg to the other Knight, "This is my dear friend Zephyr!"
"We have not!" Paenitia's eyes glitter behind her mask. She dips her head in a small bow towards the tiny arachnid, then waves a gauntletted hand, "Greetings and well met, tiny Zephyr. It is a pleasure."
She sounds very amused, which matches well with the wide grin on her mask. Settling back with a creak of her armour, the Red Knight asks, "A delight for us as well. I have spent time at the Adventurer's guild, meeting allies and swapping stories. I hear the strangest tales."
Ramirez meanwhile, watches Torrent belly down, then takes another beak-full from his bowl.
Yet again the silver sith'makar found herself in the colloseum district after her evening prayer. It was starting to become a habit, almost. At the very least, she could poke her head into the building to see what was going on. While there was no band that day, there was still something going on at the building. A friend, and an acquaintance from the other day. So the cleric stepped into the building proper, giving the two a wave.
"Peace on your nests, madam Paenitia, and Farnmidahn, if I remember correctly. It is good to see you again, though I hope that I am not intruding in some fashion."
Faranmidahn arches an eyebrow, "Truly? That's good to hear! There are many seasoned Adventurer's in the Guild, and they've valuable experience to share! Any particularly good ones?"
Zephyr answers the greeting with a soft, voiceless rumble, then starts to wander curiously about the decorations on the table, content to explore.
"She's pleased to meet you!" Faran translates, then looks to the side as one of the waitstaff happen along, "Oh, hello! A warm stew and mead, with a healthy dash of cinnamon, please?"
The albino knight looks to the silvery sith and she beams a warm smile her way, "Welcome Miss Seyardu, Peace on your nest!" She looks to Paenitia, then, "I don't believe so?"
Stjepan comes in, looking sweaty and tired. He's got a big canvas bag over his shoulder, and he straightens up from ducking under the lintel. He scans the room, looking for a seat while checking out the specials tonight.
"Hola! Peace on your Nest!" Paenitia waves at Seyardu as she enters, then nods to Faranmidahn, "Yes, I hear how Arch Magus Mithrallas die the first time. Fantastic story, he is shot by an under water sneaking boat."
The Red Knight makes a little motion of her hand beside the table, then pops it up, "He lucky, he land beside this healer Jessa, who is very good."
She looks around, then points out a bench for the silverscale, "There is space, you can pull that up. Join! Order the food. Share comradeship."
"Well, I cannot turn up an offer to join in this evening." The sith'makar chuckled before she lifts up the bench, mindful of all the nearby creatures as they set it back down on the table. Spiders have a lot of legs to step on, and it could not hurt to be careful.
"He did not mention being some manner of arch-mage last time, but that is good. It makes me for comfortable with the manner of work they seem to be doing."
Faranmidahn blinks, "Huh. That's different." she replies. She's known a few people who've done the 'Dead/Bored now' thing, so that's less a surprise than it would have been two years ago. She looks to Seyardu, "Oh, do mind Torrent, don't step near his face or he'll bite you." referring to the Mastiff sized black spider resting on his belly next to her seat.
There's a look back to Paenitia and she ammends, "I've never met this Jessa, which seems a shame. He's a nice man, I'm glad he's still with us!"
Then to Seyardu, "So, you've met, then?" she wonders before noting the large man in the background, getting a wave. After last time, it's only proper, "Hello!"
Stjepan waves back towards Faranmidahn, "Good evening!" He wanders over, towards Seyardu and Paenitia. "And to you." He lets his bag dangle from one hand as he swipes his hand through his hair with the other. "A fine evening, all."
"I find out when I go by his shop. Up the mountain with the giant giant's sword." Paenitia explains, "The cousin, Besran, he there. We make small talk."
The Dark Lucht has some sort of salad in front of her, which she stirs with her fork. Also a mug. "Oh, you know the Arch Magus well? I meet him at the Guild the first time." Stjepan gets a wave, a nod, and a lingering look as she examines the sack he carries. She doesn't ask what is in the bag, but is curious.
Ramirez, cracks a nut loudly with his beak. Paenitia continues, "I have not meet Jessa. Seyardu, is the only healer I have meet. On many adventures."
Stjepan nods towards Ramirez and Torrent, then snags a chair with his foot. He doesn't sit, though. "May I sit?" He pauses. "I met Jessa long ago -- a fine healer in her time."
"I do not know him well, no. Merely that he shows up at the adventurers guild one time, following business that I would not speak about without their approval. Nothing bad, however. I have passed by that shop on numerous ocassions, I did not know it was theirs. Explains everyone asking them about making things for them." The sith'makar nods as they sat down. The benches provided were certainly welcome. "I have not met many who would be healers save for Paenitia, as I know it is a common enough skill for most paladins to know. I wish I was able to meet some, as I feel like my own learning has slowed down recently."
"He's been a big help to my sister and I in the past." Faran replies with a nod and a thoughtful look in her eye, then, then, "Certainly?" she replies to Stjepan and she nods to his assessment of the healer. In her time doesn't sound good?
Meanwhile, little Zephyr crawls up onto one of the flower arrangements and starts to play with some of the petals, while Torrent patiently waits resting on the floor.
"I'm afraid I don't have much.... knack for healing, so... I try to keep people from being hurt in the first place."
"Oh?" Paenitia turns to face Faranmidah, well turns her mask towards her, "You have family here? That adventure also? This is good. Mine remain in Isobar."
She takes another bit of salad, slips it under her mask. "I have the gifts from Tarien, but they take time. I find the best strategy is to take the front, with Ramirez, and draw the fire."
She watches Zephyr climb about thoughtfully, then says, "I may need more weapons. The battles, they have not been in the best places. In buildings, in the forest. In small alleyways."
Stjepan sits down, waving for service, as he does so. "Thank you." He settles down, and tucking his bag against the chair leg.
The sith'makar seems confused for a moment after she flags down a waiter for a menu to look through. "I thought you were sisters, Paenitia and Faranmidahn." She notes from behind the large book, turning down and taking a while to read it. "I understand what you mean, a lance, while good in the field, does not do for swinging and thrusting in an alleyway or corridor. I was thinking of getting a new bag myself, one of those enchanted to bring up supplies as needed."
"I do, my mother..." Faran begins, her "She was with me the other night."
She pauses, then, "My sister's name is Cryosanthia, we've been through a lot together, and had a couple of grand adventures, besides." she says with a warm smile.
She considers the other Knight, then, "I've had that problem myself from time to time." She shrugs, "I've heard of some adventurers who have weapons that can change shape when needed?"
There's a smile to Stjepan as he settles in, and she turns her eyes to Seyardu on her remark, "Really?" she asks, looking to the other Knight for a moment, considering with a 'hmmm', "Do we look so much alike?" This last she asks with a whimsical little smile.
"Ha! You will have to smile wide, to match the mask." Paenitia says with a hearty chortle, leaning in so her hidden face is near the other Lucht's as they both gaze at Seyardu. She follows with a glance at Faran, "Your mother, she adventure too?"
The name is familiar, the Dark Lucht blinks, trying to place it. She sets it aside to continue on the topic, "Oh I have the lance, the sword, the warhammer, the bill hook, the bec-de-corbin, the glaive, the bow. No, sometimes the one lance is not enough, and the bow too long to pick up. I find also, I need the Lucern hammer, the light crossbows to lend out, the big pole arms, for the other adventurers that come unprepared."
Her attention is on Stjepan's sack again, she works around to it. "I want the deep saddle bags too, but first the armour for Ramirez."
'Ruaaaah!' The peacock-andalusian agrees. Armour is good. Not bleeding is good. Or perhaps he simply enjoys hearing his name.
"So what in the bag? You bring some wyvern for the chefs to make the stew?"
"Yes, I remember meeting your mother here the other day." The sith'makar says as she sets down the menu for a moment. "Curious, I know Cryosanthia, and she mentioned having a sister, though your mother is a Lucht as well. She gave me a tin of polish for my scales one time that she said one of her sisters could no longer use. Perhaps someone else."
The perpetually squinting sith'makar squints harder between the two of them, looking back and forth with metallic eyes.
"You do look alike, but that may be my inexperience showing. Though Paenitia is a darker shade as far as skin goes. And you both have similar smiles, since I can hear one in your voice, Paenitia."
Faranmidahn laughs a little, "I suppose I would at that!" The mask -has- been something of a question, but still. She sobers a little, then, with a little shake of her head, "No, she's more a sage. She'd been studying the Everstorm for most of my life."
She looks to Seyardu, she nods, "We've been through a lot... been there for each other. We've been like family for some time, now." she notes.
There's a look to the bag, "That would be handy." and a look toward Paenitia, "I know an armourer who's quite good. He helped me barding Torrent, and I'll happily arrange a metting if you like?"
Meanwhile, little Zephyr ventures down from the flower arrangement to the table proper, and she waves a foreleg to the Jotun.
"You polish the scales? Like armour?" Paenitia asks, the thought never having occurred to her before. As soon as it's voiced, it seems so obvious, "I never think this thing. Ha!"
"I try to enjoy all things." The Red Knight nods to the other, "It is good, that you support each other. If there an armourer who can bard your Torrent, then I want to meet them. I will need something special."
Ramirez snaps up a few more berries from his bowl.
Paenitia sits back, "So, the strangest thing I see is a ruin that hold time like water."
Stjepan shakes his head. "No, not at all -- it's my practice gear." He orders a jug of mulled wine, and a plate of fruits-and-meats. "Nothing special." He looks over, "Cryosanthia is your sister."
"Ah, a sage, research and study is just as important." The sith'makar nods, before she turns to a waiter, placing an order for some stew, bread and water, and then back to Paenitia. "Yes, and no. Most of my kind do not care for such things, though it is something Cryosanthia gave me, she says similar things for her are good when communicating with other risks. Looks nice, I guess, makes them shinier and sparkle due to something in it, and makes the scales smoother to the touch. You saw a ruin holding time? How does something like that work?"
Faranmidahn nods to Stjepan and smiles, "Mmmhmm!" while her familiar wanders back toward the albino as her stew and mead arrive.
"Thank you!" she offers the waiter's way.
There is a little rumble from Zephyr and Faran giggles, "We'll find you some when we get back, sweetie, don't worry."
The holding time seems to bring some sobriety to her expression, but she directs herself to arranging her dinner in lieu of making issue of... whatever it is.
"Ah! I remember! The white Sith'Makar." Paenitia says suddenly, "with the pink daughter. She run the Wargame I play at the Explorer's Guild."
She turns to look at Faranmidahn, whatever her expression might be is completely obscured by her mask, although she sounds quite amused when she asks, "so you are the big sister or she is?"
Turning towards Seyardu, the Red Knight leans a little on the table, then explains with a lot of hand gestures. "There was a gnome, that make a magic experiment, but something go wrong. Inside, we find many doors. Each time we open the door, time rush in. We see people talking, then turn to dust and collapse. In one room, they both have tiny imp familiars. The familiars very confused and attack us."
"When we get to the gnome, he fine, until the wave hit him, and then he turn into an undead. All his hair fall out." Paenitia looks around the table, "we even go away and come back, and days past for us outside but is afternoon at the camp. It was very strange."
Stjepan claims his jug, and pours out a cup -- everything has practice-sauce on it, so he's quiet through the first drink. The comment about big sister, though, makes his pause mid-quaff.
The Jotun stands, "excuse me a moment," and heads into the bath rooms.
"Ah, so it is not time to be exact, but time as a concept and how things react to it. Sounds dangerous, and I am sorry to hear it ended as such though, but I hope the experiment was ended, at least." The sith'makar nods at the story, squinting more at the excessive hand gestures. Though she turns back to Stejpan, and to Faran, clearly comparing the two until she settles on the lucht.
"There is another difference. I do not mean to be blunt, but unless I am mistaken, you lack a certain, what is it, red? I believe redness to you, Faranmidhan, like the color of your eyes. Like Cryosanthia does with her scales."
"Yes, that's her, and Lily." faran replies as she looks up, her expression coached back to normal, "She helps Mother with her research notes, and we help mind her daughter now and then."
The big sister or little sister is..., well, that one kind of throws her for a moment. But only one, "Oh, she's the big sister, definately." A wink to be sure.
Then the story begins and she listens thoughtfully, "There are places in the Vast like that, I hear. Not so dramatic, as I understand, but still jarring. What happened to the undead fellow?"
The observation of her particular quirks brings her attention back to Miss Seyardu and she bows her head, "Amongst other things, yes. For a long time, I thought the Dawnfather hated me, until I met another friend." Here her expression saddens, "A Sunguard, who was able to heal me with His grace. He showed me I wasn't beyond his love, despite my..." she founders for a word a moment, then, "...state?"
"I think was time itself. The sorceress Pasithea say she could see it. We see people and things still like statues the moment before it catch up, then they age." Paenitia says, "This when we open the last door to the gnome. We see him age, his hair fall out, he become like a zombie. He have a pool of blood he summon a skeleton from. The other knight with me, Dame Betrys, she follow Vardama and declare him abomination to be destroyed."
"This, she manage. Then the place collapse and fall into a portal. We rush to get out." The Red Knight makes fists, pounding motions in the air, "Rocks fall everywhere, nearly hit us. We get out, then it vanish."
It's Paenitia's turn to gaze for a while at Faranmidah, thinking over what she says, "The Sun kiss hard. Even I avoid too much time under his attention. I see why you might be worried. But do not, I have enough red for both of us! Also, I see your big sister I will say Hola!"
"Big sister... seems apt. She is taller than me, though most of my kin are." Seyardu chuckles, her own meal coming in. "And undead, I understand. The best to be done at that point is give a peaceful rest. But I am sorry if I was unkind in my observations, I did not know it was something perhaps detrimental. I used to think something similar, that the gods were cruel, taking so much of the beauty of the world out of it for me, before I was even able to comprehend what was missing. But I found that they give strength and purpose too, so I know the gods would do the same for others."
"Ah, yes, the Knight of Dragonier. I wish she'd come to our gathering, but I'm heartened to hear she is still at it. Vardamans are quite firm about the undead." Faran briefly thinks of Verna, her Mourner friend and wonders what she's been about since, but back to the now, as Paenitia references their balance of sunwarding hue and she smiles wryly, "You do, though when we're apart, I must rely on my magic. The spell I have to keep people comfortable in harsh weather I find helps me avoid burning in the sun as well."
She smiles and reaches out to pat lightly at the sith's arm, but even as tall as she is for her people, her gesture manages, at best, a gentle swipe of a couple of fingers, "It's alright. It's something I've come to terms with some time ago, and we are unlike the Sith Makar enough that my peculiarity would be a reasonable question. I've the power to change it, albeit briefly, now, but even when changing my shape, I stay reasonably true to myself."
To the rest of the observations, she nods after and continues, "It takes a strong heart to find that truth, Miss Seyardu, and see past the burdens to the blessings." with an admiring smile.
Paenitia is examining Seyardu, looking over the silverscale. She seems to have all the things the Dark Lucht expects in a Sith'Makar, barring the height, so her lament about missing something is confusing. Although, it is missing out, she decides, carefully recalling what was said. She finally asks, "You are missing the scent or the taste?"
The Red Knight nods to the White one, "The spells sound helpful. I wish she had made it to the gathering, but she was very occupied."
"Ah yes, the spell you offered the other day, which protects against the weather, I am glad it is able to ease those troubles, even if you have come tom terms with. I know not those who struggle with the sun, save for those who have trouble seeing, like my friend Aryia." The sith'makar replies, stirring her bowl of stew a bit as she went. "Though I feel my own connection to the divine is a bit more direct in it's blessings, I am thankful for it all the same, as it was, it was important." Shehe turns back to the masked knight, shaking her head and chuckling. She certainly looked like any other sith'makar, as much as could be said with how varied they could be. "Neither, Paenitia. I lack none of the senses, at least not completely. But it is, the world has none of what you refer to as color. It is all shades of light and lack of it, and those in between."
Faranmidahn nods and smiles a touch, "Do give her my best if you see her, please." she requests of her fellow Knight, then, as she inquires of Seyardu's senses, she looks Sithward.
She ponders Seyardu's response, trying to contemplate the world in such a format. What would her detection spells look like?
"That explains the nuances of your question. May I ask, has it always been so, Miss Seyardu?"
"Hmm!" Paenitia responds, saying nothing else while she ponders Seyardu's revelation. She gazes at her peacock-andalusian for a moment, imagining how he must appear. Blood might still seem distinct, but would appear as a dark shade, making his crimson markings seem a strange chiaroscuro.
Ramirez looks up, stares back at his mistress, wondering why no orders follow. His bowl is empty. Perhaps she has noticed! He nibbles the edge of it with his beak, causing it to wobble.
The Red Knight returns her gaze to the silver sith'makar, "I see what you mean. Much sympathy, you miss out on many things."
Ramirez knocks his bowl again.
"Okay Ramirez, I get you some more." The Dark Lucht hops out of her seat, picks up her mount's bowl while avoiding moving in front of Torrent, and makes a small bow to the table and laughs, "I get him more food, I try not to get stuck in the kitchen! Back soon!"
"Oh, I understand, I thought people weren't allowed into the kitchen, but if you are, then I wish to the best, not to get lost in there. I appreciate it, though it is the way things are." The sith'makar replies with a wave off to the knight, before she turned back to the other lucht.
"Yes, I am not entirely sure on the specifics, sometimes I confuse if my friend is either embarassed, or if their skin was injured. It has always been that way, I do not know the basis for those colors, though some have tried to describe them to me, before."
Faranmidahn considers the Hippogryph as he makes his requirements known and she gives a knowing smile to her sister in arms, "Of course, we'll be here!" she notes in reply.
Then, back toward Seyardu and she nods, "I believe I understand." She considers a possibility for a moment, her eyes half lidding, worrying at the implications and morality of the thing.
Would it be cruel to present a mere glimpse of the fuller spectrum?
Would it be a boon?
Should she even ask? Are they already so well acquainted, then?
"It is not so bad, truly. In fact, I feel better about it, since I came here." The sith'makar adds with a sharp toothed smile. "I met an artist one day, who was making art, sketching. But what they did, it looked right still, even though all they used was a single piece of charcoal. So I feel, if they can make something recognizeable to me, even if I do not know what the colors should be, I can for what something is otherwise."
The sith'makar sipped on her stew, resting one hand underneath her chin. "You are Cryosanthia's sister, perhaps you can help me out. She likened herself to a white dragon with her color, or lack of it. I thought that was too harsh, though. What would you say would be something to liken it too, instead?"
Faranmidahn blinks her way back out of the rabbit hole as Seyardu begins speaking to her again and she nods with a considered, "That's a wonderful discovery!"
At the rest, though the Knight regards the silverscale with head cocked a touch to one side, taking a moment to consider an answer to the question posed.
Hmmm.
"Perhaps a spring day cloud." she ventures, "Or a field of snow. Or... there are blue birds that lay eggs of pristine white, but... I'm afraid I don't know what the proper name for them is."
"Yes, I feel if people can understand how I see things without experiencing it, then I can try to understand how others see it without myself." The sith'makar replies with another smile. "So the clouds have no color to them, at least usually, since I've seen them grow dark. And I know not what a field of snow is like, though Cryosanthia told me they are something spectacular to see. Thank you, miss Faranmidahn, those are all good suggestions I feel, though I will need to see them myself, so I can agree with them. It may not seem it, but it's hard to tell, since incredibly light colors are hard to distinguish at times from one another."
"There are some that gain little hints of shadow during the spring and summer, when they're fluffy and rather sparse." the little Knight elaborates, "It's when they're more... loaded with rain that they darken, I believe."
She smiles thoughtfully, "I grew up in the Desolation... I never saw snow until I came to Alexandria, myself." she brightens a little bit and, "Humans, well, their children, make what they call 'snow-men'. The snow can be rolled into balls, kind of like clay. But you make three big balls of snow... I don't know what, but it's three, no more, no less, and you stack them with the smallest up top, and largest at the bottom." Ahem, "Sorry." Her cheeks get rosey, then, but she follows the conversation to it's new angle, "No, I think I understand, there are certain shades of that... ah... range(?) that I see differently than Cryosanthia, or my mother does. There are certain hues I see that look more like.... ahh, sky colors with a tiny hint of grass, for example, but mother is certain are strictly a pale grass color."
"I am used to the later, it rains much more where I am from. So the signs of the less water filled ones, seems like a pleasant omen, for certain." The sith'makar interjects, before she settles into a comfortable silence as she listens to the lucht continue on in comfortable silence as she ate her simple meal. "No, it is alright, Faranmidahn, I like learning more about the customs of softskins, while it does not sound useful to make these snow men, it is, ah, fun, by the sounds of it. Like a readily available artistic medium. Though, that is curious. Even among those who can see colors, not all see them the same. Something to think about, and I would not mind learning more at another time. The world is what we make of it, is it not?"
The sith'makar grins again.
Faranmidahn smiles and straightens with a single clap of her hands, "Yes! Yes, that's it exactly!" she returns happily. LIttle Zephyr is half standing on the edge of the knight's bowl of stew that's as yet gone untouched, and she makes her little rumble again.
"Oh! Thank you, sweetie, you're right." she says to the spider, half the size of a human woman's fist, and reaches out to gently stroke her fuzz front to back.
She reaches for her spoon, then, then changes her mind and reaches for her cup of mead, raising it in toast, "To what we make of the world!"
The sith'makar glances to the small spider, and back to the glass of mead. She reaches for her own glass, raising it up as well with a light thump of their tail against the ground in acknowledgement.
"Yes, certainly! To what we make of the world, and that what we make of the world is the best it can be. Though I have no alcohol for the toast, the gesture is not lost." She half shouts before taking a long drink of the water, setting it back down on the table as they settle into the rest of the meal, along with the masked knight, whenever she finishes her preparations for the peacock-horse.
Fade to water.
Dramatis Personae
Seyardu
While not as physically imposing as many others of her kind, Seyardu still towers over most regardless. The sith-makar is covered in bright silver scales, with almost metallic, silvery eyes that are usually found in what looks like an appraising squint. Two long, ridged horns curve forward on their face, and a long tail trails slightly on the ground, keeping them balanced. Usually they are seen in town with simple, plain clothes, a simple vest and accompanying gray skirt. A large rucksack is usually slung over her back with most of her worldly posessions, with a large wooden shield, well used but completely bare, save for a rough dark black painting of a dragon's head.
Faranmidahn
A tallish Lucht about 3'3" with a wide, heart shaped face of moon-eyed countenance, she bears the marks of an albino, with skin a pinkish cream, and pate of full, ankle length hair of ivory and bone. Her eyes are a peculiar shade of rose beneath somewhat thick ivory brows, with long silvery lashes, to which she's added two matching rows of round tourmaline settings starting at her brow and tapering down her cheeks to her jawline. Like her people, she prefers to feel the ground beneath her bare feet, though she's manifested the Clydesdale like shag of ivory more uncommon than unheard of among her people. Her voice is high and light enough to be almost troublingly cute when she intends to be anything but, though her posture is straight and proud.
She's taken her spider affectation to a functional extreme, probably more due to a certain amount of reality checks than a true forbearance of eccentricity. Black spiderweb lace sheaths her limbs, emerging from the sculpted black kilted breastplate; an embossed sigil of violet, lavender and green proclaims her to be of the Order of the Purple Rose from the left of her heart, framed by an intricate spiderweb of inlaid silver that expand outward in random sparsity around the armor. Over this, a matching, sculpted broach pins a violet, web-embroidered cloak to her shoulders. A fluted helm matching her armor is completed by a visor of evenly spaced bars that, when it is worn, adds shadow enough to aid the suggestion of spiders' eyes her jewerly is meant to project. Silver traceries of asymetrical webs bring contrast to the black,scalloped poleyns that protect her knees.
At the right side of her waist is a comparitively long sword for her stature, blackened steel with a red hourglass on the pear-shaped pommel, rests in a lacquered sheath opposite an array of pouches that no doubt contain an array of adventurer's tools, while a matching Lucht Traveler's blade is strapped to her left thigh. Occaisionally riding a baldric accomodated through some trick of her cloak is what might be a Lucht Siuil greatsword, quillion tips and pommel tempered and polished to an iridescent blue-violet and carved into blooming roses.
On many occaisions, she has a round, white spider about the size of a human fist covered in white fluffiness riding about her shoulders, or sometimes riding in her hair when her helm is absent. Similarly, she travels with a glossy black Huntsman spider about the size of a Well fed Mastiff, clad in silver studded glossy leather barding, and full knightly tack as well as curious earth hued wrappings around the center four of his legs.
Stjepan
The giantborn is tall -- that is, after all, how they earn their name. He truly is, even for one of his kind. His hair is blonde, and cut short. The part is precise and ruthless. His eye are glacier blue, and are guarded by heavy brows, though his nose is surprisingly pert and dimples mark his cheeks. His smile is broad, cheerful and often deployed. Despite an almost cherubic visage, he cuts a figure of power -- powerful limbs, and a thickly-muscled torso -- that is unmistakable.
He wears blued coat-of-plate embossed with a mountain motif on the breastplate, over striped blue-and-white trousers and low black boots. At his wrists, additional wrappings of leather disappear beneath his vambraces; at his neck, a steel chain disappears under his armour, probably securing some sort of amulet. He carries a huge sword slung at his waist, the grip wrapped in black leather over jute cord. His sword belt is made of thick black leather with a silvered buckle fashioned to look like a snarling lion. A plain grey woollen cloak is worn against the weather. Across his back is a recurved bow and quiver of arrows. He is, in general, armed for war.
Paenitia
Small, dark and winsome.
On a Giant white peacock.
Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Harrana, is a crimson knight astride an ivory steed. A dark skinned Lucht Siuil, her black hair hangs in ringlets to mid-back, wild, untamed, loose. Matching fetlocks curl about her shins, demure, tamed, tied back with crimson bows. She wears a broad feathered hat, a matching single shoulder cape, both crafted from the bold feathers of her mount; striking white with red eyes. Beneath that hat, a smiling mask with rosy cheeks and a wide upturned moustache. Her armour has the same patina, an elaborate breastplate, rusted to match the mesas of her homeland. Paenitia's deep eyes smoulder behind the mask, and her skin, where visible, is a warm mahogany that is both heritage and time in the sun. She moves with an intensity overwhelming for her size.
Ramirez, her mount, is an eye-catching hippogryph. An albescent peacock gypsy-andalusan breed. Glorious, the size of a strong warhorse, his tail could cover a cart and easily hides his fluffy equine hind. His forelegs are the delicate and deceptively strong legs of the avian, and his body flows well into his feathery trail. Almost completely white, Ramirez is blood red on his neck, shoulders and breast, with the same bold colour in his crown and his many tailfeather eyes. He struts about regally, staring imperiously, proud and beautiful. Paenitia's saddle straps his midsection and has its own tail fan, a scabbard candelabra of pole arms that lies along his back.
She's from the land of the wind, tilting against windmills. A self-appointed knight, tiny and trite, riding a fancy and brings twice the fight.