Eternity RPC Board
09-13-2016, 11:58 PM
Nevina's expression once again went from compassion to confusion as an increasingly excited Elke jolted upright and increasingly failed to contain her apparent glee at having found her person, even with her apron stained in blood as it was. She never before bore witness to such an overjoyed outburst of emotion at having seen someone she had never seen before and with whom she held no prior interaction whatsoever; the typical response from such people generally involved apprehension and unease, not a glowing display of energetic praise.
Not to mention the sheer jittering energy with which she bounced around in a happy dance most unbecoming of anyone hoping to salvage any sliver or shred of dignity out of having acted a toad fart.
Most unusual were this strange girl's words, or what of them she could understand within the hyperactive stream of conscience she spouted forth. This young lady was apparently not from the area, judging by what she mentioned of a trip, and evidently was some kind of student, given that she needed Nevina for some manner of research. Most disquieting, though, Nevina noticed that this person knew her name despite having never met and apparently came to this place, of all places, specifically seeking Nevina out for some purpose or another; this couldn't - rather, shouldn't - be possible, for Nevina keenly knew her place in the world, and though the Cult and its work held a certain amount of far-reaching fame in these parts of the world amongst the lower castes for the works they performed for the benefit of others, Nevina held no powerful fame to warrant such a...bubbly hunter.
Unless...no, she couldn't possibly be here about that...
Nevertheless, this young traveler knew a great deal more about Nevina than Nevina knew of her, even down to her name - a potentially dangerous predicament in certain situations. With an uneasy I can barely follow you half-grin, Nevina held up her recently-cleaned hands as she stood and looked up at her vibratory visitor. "Hold on, slow down, deep breaths...Now, what's you're name?"
* * * * *
It was at Nevina's behest that the two eventually found themselves once again within the quiet confines of the Cozy Canker, the early afternoon sun painting the empty room of the dining facility in multicolored extra-rainbow hues from the stained glass along the tops of the windows. The room remained as vacant as the first time Elke set foot within the hall, it still apparently being much too early for the evening revelries and socialities to begin, the town's paltry peasantry still much too busy in making their modest living; this was a boon for the Mageling and the Mentor, who had the entire space to themselves.
Along the way, Nevina had done her best to answer some of the more pressing, if not slightly inane of Elke's bubbly inquisitive inquiries: first, that Forlag was in fact not a talking, hyper-intelligent extra-dimensional supersquirrel, but an old mangy druid who had settled in and taken up the role of Town Magician and elder statesman - "woe be to these unfortunate people" - for the ramshackle hamlet. Second, yes, the hair is real; Nevina never really understood why this was a pertinent question for so many people, or why the vibrancy of its coloration was such a surprise to some. Thirdly, no, Nevina neither enjoys nor appreciates the notion of being lifted, carried, or otherwise raised off the ground in a physical manner and swung about like some child's ragdoll; this was an even more absurd, and more common, notion than the last, and Nevina was neither enthused or amused at Elke's ridiculous notion of her being "so cute."
Forlag, however, was quite the opposite, entirely amused with Nevina's bemusement and Elke's enthusiasm, chittering from rooftop to rooftop in glee at their ridiculous pairing.
Once inside the establishment, however, the furry fiend disappeared, and Nevina took a much appreciated reclining position in one of the padded oaken chairs, the trials of the early morning finally catching up to her less-than-spry aging body; despite all appearances, a 300+ year old body is still a 300+ year old body, after all. The elf had cleaned herself before returning, loosing with the bloodied smock and instruments and gathering her few possessions together, the cold corpse of the "murdered" man as well as the ramshackle hut that became his tomb set alight to save the village the unpleasant ravages of carrion diseases.
"First of all," she directed to Elke as she released the most appreciative sigh of her life as she sank deeper into the padding of the seat, "How did you know of me?" It was an honest question; Nevina generally did what she could to keep from drawing much attentions to herself, especially when it came to name recognition, since there were many *cough*the Order*cough* who held an undue fear and hostility to unaffiliated mages. "What is this research of which you spoke?"
A smiling bag of wrinkles, presumably Forlag, came out of the kitchens bearing a silver platter, upon which sat a kettle of albidium root tea and a collection of tiny cups. Standing with a heavy hunch and barely over four foot, the roughly-robed Forlag set the tray upon the table, before waddling back into the kitchens.
Not to mention the sheer jittering energy with which she bounced around in a happy dance most unbecoming of anyone hoping to salvage any sliver or shred of dignity out of having acted a toad fart.
Most unusual were this strange girl's words, or what of them she could understand within the hyperactive stream of conscience she spouted forth. This young lady was apparently not from the area, judging by what she mentioned of a trip, and evidently was some kind of student, given that she needed Nevina for some manner of research. Most disquieting, though, Nevina noticed that this person knew her name despite having never met and apparently came to this place, of all places, specifically seeking Nevina out for some purpose or another; this couldn't - rather, shouldn't - be possible, for Nevina keenly knew her place in the world, and though the Cult and its work held a certain amount of far-reaching fame in these parts of the world amongst the lower castes for the works they performed for the benefit of others, Nevina held no powerful fame to warrant such a...bubbly hunter.
Unless...no, she couldn't possibly be here about that...
Nevertheless, this young traveler knew a great deal more about Nevina than Nevina knew of her, even down to her name - a potentially dangerous predicament in certain situations. With an uneasy I can barely follow you half-grin, Nevina held up her recently-cleaned hands as she stood and looked up at her vibratory visitor. "Hold on, slow down, deep breaths...Now, what's you're name?"
* * * * *
It was at Nevina's behest that the two eventually found themselves once again within the quiet confines of the Cozy Canker, the early afternoon sun painting the empty room of the dining facility in multicolored extra-rainbow hues from the stained glass along the tops of the windows. The room remained as vacant as the first time Elke set foot within the hall, it still apparently being much too early for the evening revelries and socialities to begin, the town's paltry peasantry still much too busy in making their modest living; this was a boon for the Mageling and the Mentor, who had the entire space to themselves.
Along the way, Nevina had done her best to answer some of the more pressing, if not slightly inane of Elke's bubbly inquisitive inquiries: first, that Forlag was in fact not a talking, hyper-intelligent extra-dimensional supersquirrel, but an old mangy druid who had settled in and taken up the role of Town Magician and elder statesman - "woe be to these unfortunate people" - for the ramshackle hamlet. Second, yes, the hair is real; Nevina never really understood why this was a pertinent question for so many people, or why the vibrancy of its coloration was such a surprise to some. Thirdly, no, Nevina neither enjoys nor appreciates the notion of being lifted, carried, or otherwise raised off the ground in a physical manner and swung about like some child's ragdoll; this was an even more absurd, and more common, notion than the last, and Nevina was neither enthused or amused at Elke's ridiculous notion of her being "so cute."
Forlag, however, was quite the opposite, entirely amused with Nevina's bemusement and Elke's enthusiasm, chittering from rooftop to rooftop in glee at their ridiculous pairing.
Once inside the establishment, however, the furry fiend disappeared, and Nevina took a much appreciated reclining position in one of the padded oaken chairs, the trials of the early morning finally catching up to her less-than-spry aging body; despite all appearances, a 300+ year old body is still a 300+ year old body, after all. The elf had cleaned herself before returning, loosing with the bloodied smock and instruments and gathering her few possessions together, the cold corpse of the "murdered" man as well as the ramshackle hut that became his tomb set alight to save the village the unpleasant ravages of carrion diseases.
"First of all," she directed to Elke as she released the most appreciative sigh of her life as she sank deeper into the padding of the seat, "How did you know of me?" It was an honest question; Nevina generally did what she could to keep from drawing much attentions to herself, especially when it came to name recognition, since there were many *cough*the Order*cough* who held an undue fear and hostility to unaffiliated mages. "What is this research of which you spoke?"
A smiling bag of wrinkles, presumably Forlag, came out of the kitchens bearing a silver platter, upon which sat a kettle of albidium root tea and a collection of tiny cups. Standing with a heavy hunch and barely over four foot, the roughly-robed Forlag set the tray upon the table, before waddling back into the kitchens.