Mischief and Memories
It's Gilday, Quintoos 08 15:04:49 1019. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and rising. The fair weather clouds in the west turn orange, gold, carmine, and purple as the sun sets. A chill wind blows from the west.
A14: Sage Orum's Plaza, University District
Commerce and traffic bustle about as much as ever on this mild autumn day. Just exiting now from the Engineers' Enclave is someone who is definitely no artifice-type, the Greenwalker Ga'Elian. As he strides out onto the grass lawn in front of the building, he glances upward where a squadron of Skyguards passes eastward overhead, mounted on griffons. He smirks.
If looks could kill, the Plaza would be a bloodbath right now.
A man stalks into the Enclave, brief moment away from the bustle of people at the Plaza proper, Drawing every eye-- which is easy to do when coloured a barrage of pinks and pastels, splattered from head to foot in an array of comic paints. And a hat. Wizardy and pointed, it sits at a rather jaunty angle. Several students of the Academy stare at the passing magus, earning themselves a Glare
"Not. One. Word."
Ga'Elian approaches the wizard, and says, restraining a laugh, "I'm guessing that either you ran afoul of Sandy, or some gnomish engineering student got the better of you."
"Not quite," the mage growls-- sparing a small twitch of a chuckle as he shakes his head. "Ran afoul of the constant pranking wars these two fine insitutions insist on continuing. A hex for all the Tekgnomigy students to have 'properly fabulous headwear'--" He gestures to the broken tipped, pointy hat. "And some third-year students with oversized paint-throwing goblin flingers. Apparently, it is a usual monthly affair."
He sighs wearily, snorting. "Bad time to be entering the gate, I suppose."
Ga'Elian chuckles, then, "I wonder if Reos and Tarien are friendlier than folks suppose."
Jenner grins, raising his hands helplessly. "Who knows? I'm sure they glance down on every moon just to see what new madness these place can cook up. It wouldn't surprise me if someone thought it was a keen idea to encourage creativity." He pauses, glancing to the side. "Which it is. Just can't let the students know that while I'm standing as an example of their handiwork."
He stretches gingerly, murmuring as he incants a quiet spell. Rainbow hues erupt from his fingers, and like a tiny torch, he sets about clearing away the skin-clinging paint. "Now, what brings you here, Greenwalker? Working on the Lingua once again?"
Ga'Elian replies, "Actually, one of the artificers is working up an additional enchantment on my bow. Mostly I get to keep possession of it, but every so often I need to bring it by until the job is done."
Jenner snorts, but nods. "Tekgnomigy at work," he says matter-of-factly. "Always needing to tinker and poke and prod rather than just doing it properly once." He swirls the tiny rainbow flame into a circling streamer, swirling it over his arm to clear away the residue. "I'm almost afraid to ask what it looks like now, though I preay... you didn't actually let them have it for long, did you?"
Ga'Elian shakes his head. "No. Frankly, the Arvek that's doing the job keeps trying to convince me to let him coat the bow in chrome. Besides just not wanting to be without it any more than necessary, the thought of having it become so shiny just doesn't work for me." He reaches back to the 20-inch quiver slung behind his shoulder and extracts from within it a 5-foot-4-inch bow and offers it to the human for inspection. He says, "Here, take a look."
Jenner leaves the flame hovering in the air, a momentary spark of hues slowly disappearing on its own as he steps forward. < "Thank you," > he says in Sylvan, accepting the unstrung weapon with deliberate care. Curiosity draws his appraising eye-- he runs a hand across the brief curve of the device, finger wandering along well-worn ridges. "Just chrome?" he adds, chuckling in amusement. "I'm surprised he didn't try convincing you to add iron marks for distance shot, or a steel-reinforced string, or tiny mechanical goblins at both ends to draw the string, each squealing 'Heave!'."
A look of horrified shock passes over the elf's innocent face as he imagines the realization of Jenner's words. He takes a calming breath, then says, "I've worked with this 'Stirling' before. He's never taken such liberties with my projects in the past," in a tone of voice that might indicate that he's trying harder to reassure himself than the wizard.
Said wizard makes a non-committal rumble, brushing a palm over either end of the bow before returning it with grace. "Just a sour thought," he says, trying his best not to let the thought percolate too far. "If you trust him to do quality work, then I leave it in faithful hands. Besides, you've used him before and know what to expct; that is half the difficulty, on occasion. I know I've had reason to note down an idea for research while crafting a time or two-- but I write it down for later, not launch into it immediately!"
He grins-- then grimaces. Reaching up, he resummons the rainbow flare, setting the (broken pointed) hat alight with it. "Damnation on Gelfure's influences...." he mutters darkly.
Ga'Elian acceps the bow back and re-stows it in the magical quiver. At the mention of Gelfure, his expression brightens considerably. He says, "Madame Gelfure? I met her once... about a year or so ago. She had contracted with the Guild to hire a band of us to provide security for a fashion show and royal ball in Myrddion. Having never before experienced either sort of function, I chose to go along and see what it was all about. In the end, Madame Gelfure gifted a unique toga to each of us that went."
As he says the foregoing, he rummages around in his shoulder pack and finally extracts a toga that is certainly unique. He immediately starts to remove the bulky things that hang from his neck (a cloak, a canvas bag, a hunting horn, and his quiver), then slides the toga on over his armor. It is cut to hang over a single shoulder and features magically animated embroidery which depicts elves and fae beings frolicking around the Ygdrassil Tree.
Jenner looks on with a pained expression, struggling not to grimace or wince or... look as if he had swallowed a lemon. "It is very nice," he says neutrally, glancing away with a quick flash of eyes. "Though I hope she paid you each in turn as well." Coughing briefly, he turns back, refocusing his gaze with a firm expression. "I've had the opportunity to meet her on a few occasions. Before the Mists and the city's vanishing for a time, she was simply a very eccentric mage with a decided appreciation for fashion and finery."
Expression carefully neutral, he searches through the satchel at his side, hunting for his pipe before drawing it free. "And after the city returned, with news of Rune's collapse, she simply moved in and took control of the Academy." His gaze darkens, a glower taking shape as he calls the pipe to life with a snap of fingers and a dash of stuffed pipeweed. "Without any attention to others actually part of the Academy who were in place to serve. Politics."
Ga'Elian nods, as if he totally understands what all is involved, despite the fact that he hasn't got any more inkling of it than a child. As he removes the toga and puts things right again, he mentions in deadpan seriousness, "We did get paid, too, certainly. But I've since had occasion to wear the toga a couple times.
One time, I was curious about the phenomenon that is a 'show', so Princess Kisaiya of Vandalheim invited me to escort her to the Hope Theater. While in the lobby waiting to show our admission tickets to some employee, she reminded me that the occasion was appropriate for my toga, so I stripped off then and there and put the toga on instead. For some reason, this old lady started to get real chummy with me after that."
Jenner doesn't choke. He dare not. But his cheeks change a most distinguished color of purple before he manages to draw a long, measured breath. "It's Svarshan all over again," he murmurs, chuckling with a wry humor. "Ahem. Well..." He pauses, uncertain how (or if!) he should proceed. "I can see how such would draw attention, though I should caution you to be careful of it. Cityfolk generally do not change their clothing in front of... well, anyone but a select few. They save such for particular, special occasions."
He struggles not to laugh, exhaling with a grin. "I am sure she enjoyed the moment. And with luck, the show afterward."
Ga'Elian nods, "Yes. I gather that. Even so, a friend of mine, a Llyranesi follower of Tarien kept assuring me that I shouldn't worry about it, that it would be educational and serve the interests of diplomacy for me to behave in the City as I would in my home forest." He shrugs. "I don't know, but I do figure that doesn't always hold. Like the time when I saw a watch officer maltreating his horse and rescued the animal from his brutality. He had me captured and held for a couple days in the gaol over by the City's western gates."
Jenner grimaces, nodding with an even sigh. And wincing gently as he listens further. Tariens. Always Tariens. "The city is not like your forest home," the mage cautions earnestly, gesturing with the pipe. "With its own sorry dangers. What should be obvious there may not be so much here. Still..." He reaches over, clapping his hand to the Sylvanori's shoulder. "A good heart will rarely lead one wrong. But observation is key, as much as in the forest. Sometimes the best approach isn't a direct one."
He pauses, glancing up towards the Enclave. "I should be stepping off for a time. Still need to report to one of the Professors why several of his students are still stuck in the plaza." Jenner grins, eye sly as he drops a wink. "I shall see you again, good Sir."