Eternity RPC Board
09-13-2016, 11:59 PM
While Forlag was not actually a squirrel while in fact possessing the ability to transform into one, perhaps the more surprising revelation was that the ornately decorated interior of the Canker and its wares seemed to have been the product of Forlag’s own machinations. For the outlandish, slightly grizzled, perhaps lecherous old coot that he was, the druid had did have a rather nice taste in interior design. As far as Elke could determine, his artistic tastes didn’t really align with the more overt part of his interests. The subtle acorn pattern engraved into the chair railings, however, did not go unnoticed - a symbol of his squirrely nature regardless of his species.
Clever, Forlag.
On their stroll to their lodging, or at least what had seemed like a stroll in comparison to the laborious journey she’d just undertaken, Elke was warned not to call Nevina “cute” or any synonym of the word, not to lift Nevina, and generally to avoid thinking of Nevina as a child, even though she was very tiny…
Elke had agreed to the terms and conditions, for she had come here on business. She did hope, however, that they would at least be friends by the end of this. Nevina was, admittedly, colder than Elke was used to or expecting. Perhaps it was an elf thing, perhaps it’s what happens to those who spend their time wandering mostly in solitude. The life of a wanderer had seemed appealing to Elke, and she considered this venture her first foray into that lifestyle, but she did secretly wonder if she would be able to trade the kindness of the local farming folk amongst which she’d grown up in exchange for the overly cautious, critical gaze of a new village hesitant to welcome a strange mage.
Maybe. Every town had to have its Forlag and too-helpful Troll-salesman, at least.
Following Nevina’s lead, Elke, plunked herself onto one of the chairs, dropping several stones’ weight in bags, rucksacks, and purses and pushing them under the chair as much as possible to keep them out of the way. Freed of her burden, she sighed, arched her back in a deep stretch, and sighed again. The light patches on her tunic formed by where her packs always rested told of how filthy she was and how desperately she needed to wash her clothes and herself. Certainly there would be time for that, although Forlag might make her actually check the lodging for mold now that she’d made the offer.
“First of all,” she heard Nevina sigh, drawing her attention back to her and away from the setting around them. Elke thought at first that the sigh might have been one of annoyance, but it seemed that Nevina was just making herself at home, too, getting nice and comfy on the furniture. The girl knew that she shouldn’t think of this mighty and powerful mage as adorable, but the scene was… well… cozy, to say the least.
(It was adorable; Nevina looked so small in the chair.)
“How did I know you?” Elke repeated, just to make sure she had the question right. “Oh, right, the research! I learned about you in Intermediate Magical Histories,” she recalled with a smile, which wavered as her face went into an expression of thought. “Well, not about you, per se, but about h--” Her eyes widened a bit as realization washed over her. “Um,” she gulped then, leaning in very close to Nevina, as close as possible without leaving her seat, and just barely whispered, “heresy.” Elke looked almost as if she feared lightning would strike her down at the word itself. The dark cloud of vitriol that had surrounded it in text and in spoken word at her university had been rather hard to shake. Still, Elke told herself, if this was the path she was going to walk, she’d need to overcome the fear of a simple word when she, herself, was going to be learning the art and lifestyle.
Even worse, she felt like the word was an insult to Nevina. “Heretic” was no small moniker; it was a heavy burden to bear, and it insinuated that the bearer had done something wrong. It was a curse more than a title, more repelling for many than pustulotic disease.
“Not that I think you did anything wrong!” Elke blurted, the phrasing an extension of her thoughts more than of the dialogue. “I mean, we just- we just learned about cults and using the power of higher beings for magic. The Nine Winds happen to come into conversation. Even in our part of the world, its name is known.”
Elke paused to pour herself some tea and to sip from the delicate porcelain cup criss-crossed in leafy pewterwork which formed the handle, then swirled around the light brew and watched the leaves twirl in a tiny whirlpool at the bottom.
“You probably want to know why I sought you out, too, right?”
It almost felt embarrassing to say it now. Back home, Elke had a friend, Roanna, who’d once taken fanatical interest in a certain band of travelling musicians. Roanna had become so enamored that she once ran away from home to travel into the city and beg the group to let her go with them. Talk of their classmates was that she’d demonstrated her singing skills to them. Unfortunately, it was known that Roanna had a singing voice akin to an angry blackbird, only a bit more repelling and a lot more jarring. When she’d been rightfully rejected with a “funny girl, go on home now, we don’t have an open spot for you” and returned to her worried-sick parents, Elke had gotten to hear the story and had chided her for being an idiot. To the very day she left home, Elke had not stopped poking fun at Roanna and reminding her of the time she ran through the night like a lunatic after The Roaming Harmony.
How the tables had turned.
“You probably already figured it out,” the mageling murmured, “but I… Well, see… The thing is that I was kind of… sort of hoping that you could, you know, maybe…” Elke stared very hard into her tea, hard enough that her gaze was probably burning a hole through the porcelain. “I guess, teach me how to use heretical magic?”
Clever, Forlag.
On their stroll to their lodging, or at least what had seemed like a stroll in comparison to the laborious journey she’d just undertaken, Elke was warned not to call Nevina “cute” or any synonym of the word, not to lift Nevina, and generally to avoid thinking of Nevina as a child, even though she was very tiny…
Elke had agreed to the terms and conditions, for she had come here on business. She did hope, however, that they would at least be friends by the end of this. Nevina was, admittedly, colder than Elke was used to or expecting. Perhaps it was an elf thing, perhaps it’s what happens to those who spend their time wandering mostly in solitude. The life of a wanderer had seemed appealing to Elke, and she considered this venture her first foray into that lifestyle, but she did secretly wonder if she would be able to trade the kindness of the local farming folk amongst which she’d grown up in exchange for the overly cautious, critical gaze of a new village hesitant to welcome a strange mage.
Maybe. Every town had to have its Forlag and too-helpful Troll-salesman, at least.
Following Nevina’s lead, Elke, plunked herself onto one of the chairs, dropping several stones’ weight in bags, rucksacks, and purses and pushing them under the chair as much as possible to keep them out of the way. Freed of her burden, she sighed, arched her back in a deep stretch, and sighed again. The light patches on her tunic formed by where her packs always rested told of how filthy she was and how desperately she needed to wash her clothes and herself. Certainly there would be time for that, although Forlag might make her actually check the lodging for mold now that she’d made the offer.
“First of all,” she heard Nevina sigh, drawing her attention back to her and away from the setting around them. Elke thought at first that the sigh might have been one of annoyance, but it seemed that Nevina was just making herself at home, too, getting nice and comfy on the furniture. The girl knew that she shouldn’t think of this mighty and powerful mage as adorable, but the scene was… well… cozy, to say the least.
(It was adorable; Nevina looked so small in the chair.)
“How did I know you?” Elke repeated, just to make sure she had the question right. “Oh, right, the research! I learned about you in Intermediate Magical Histories,” she recalled with a smile, which wavered as her face went into an expression of thought. “Well, not about you, per se, but about h--” Her eyes widened a bit as realization washed over her. “Um,” she gulped then, leaning in very close to Nevina, as close as possible without leaving her seat, and just barely whispered, “heresy.” Elke looked almost as if she feared lightning would strike her down at the word itself. The dark cloud of vitriol that had surrounded it in text and in spoken word at her university had been rather hard to shake. Still, Elke told herself, if this was the path she was going to walk, she’d need to overcome the fear of a simple word when she, herself, was going to be learning the art and lifestyle.
Even worse, she felt like the word was an insult to Nevina. “Heretic” was no small moniker; it was a heavy burden to bear, and it insinuated that the bearer had done something wrong. It was a curse more than a title, more repelling for many than pustulotic disease.
“Not that I think you did anything wrong!” Elke blurted, the phrasing an extension of her thoughts more than of the dialogue. “I mean, we just- we just learned about cults and using the power of higher beings for magic. The Nine Winds happen to come into conversation. Even in our part of the world, its name is known.”
Elke paused to pour herself some tea and to sip from the delicate porcelain cup criss-crossed in leafy pewterwork which formed the handle, then swirled around the light brew and watched the leaves twirl in a tiny whirlpool at the bottom.
“You probably want to know why I sought you out, too, right?”
It almost felt embarrassing to say it now. Back home, Elke had a friend, Roanna, who’d once taken fanatical interest in a certain band of travelling musicians. Roanna had become so enamored that she once ran away from home to travel into the city and beg the group to let her go with them. Talk of their classmates was that she’d demonstrated her singing skills to them. Unfortunately, it was known that Roanna had a singing voice akin to an angry blackbird, only a bit more repelling and a lot more jarring. When she’d been rightfully rejected with a “funny girl, go on home now, we don’t have an open spot for you” and returned to her worried-sick parents, Elke had gotten to hear the story and had chided her for being an idiot. To the very day she left home, Elke had not stopped poking fun at Roanna and reminding her of the time she ran through the night like a lunatic after The Roaming Harmony.
How the tables had turned.
“You probably already figured it out,” the mageling murmured, “but I… Well, see… The thing is that I was kind of… sort of hoping that you could, you know, maybe…” Elke stared very hard into her tea, hard enough that her gaze was probably burning a hole through the porcelain. “I guess, teach me how to use heretical magic?”