An Interesting Proposal

Log Info

• Title: An Interesting Proposal
• Emitter: Verna
• Characters: Verna, Aryia
• Place: Mountain Road
• Time: March 11th. 2022
• Summary: Upon the Mountain Road, Aryia checks in on the building that didn't exist naught but a week or two ago. Popping over the railing, she chats with Verna on the patio, learning about a celebration in the TarRaCe with some friends and the half-mul's significant other. She asks some pointed questions, and gets some pointed answers before telling Verna she needs to go clear up something kind of important with Auranar before it become an issue.

The eastern road along the Redridge. This evening the traffic is minimal: the nobles are content in their quarterl airship travel is minimal or curtailed until the next day; the basalt monolith of The Harpist's Hall outside the city is somber and quiet.

On the western side of the road, at the cliff face, however, light glows. Some is the cool illumination of exterior mana lamps, but much is the warm oranges and yellows of a hearth or two through windows. All from a stone-walled cottage that did not exist a week or fortnight past. Outside of it, upon what could be considered a porch, Verna is seated upon a chair, tome before her.

It was new. And a certain mul had been keeping an eye on it, as her training routine brought her by the construction site more often than not.

A pair of gray hands appear on the side of the porch's railing, and a familiar scarred visage pops over the top of it. She gives a two note whistle hello, as her hands were otherwise occupied by lifting herself.

A site that had Verna and Auranar as the sole contractors, making the occupant hardly a surprise to Aryia. Vern looks up from her reading at the whistle. While her cloak cover most of her, it is currently worn more akin to a shawl. Beneath is a familiar violet dress. Hints of humming or light singing drifts out from within the cottage.

"Good evening, Aryia," Verna greets. "I trust you are well?"

The pugilist emits a breathy grunt as she pulls herself up and over, her in her usual verdant jacket getup. She glances about to the place, her bobbing her head as her gaze drifts across different parts of the newly erected domicile. "I'm pretty good," she gestures blindly to Verna before her gaze settles on her.

She smiles a bit at seeing the dress being worn. "This place looks nice and is coming along well. How about yourself? How are you and...-

n" A grey ear twitches at hearing the soft, muted tune. "Aura?" <Handspeech>

Verna cannot help but smile warmly at the song, recognition of the source, and mention of the same. "Indeed. She is quite taken by having a proper kitchen of her own. It is possible I might never see her again..." There is lack of lament and only fondness, making the last comment not even remotely serious. "She already made a feast for many, shared at the TarRace, as both experiment and celebration."

Aryia snorts and shakes her head, her resting on her back foot. "And here you used to think you wouldn't see her again from bungling it. Yet, here you are, living together."

She tsks. "Damn. I was out with my parents on the docks. Sorry I missed that. What cause was the celebration?" she inquires with her free hand, the other resting on her hip. <Handspeech>

Verna nods. "Yes, this is a situation I never envisioned before..." She pauses and falls quiet to listen to a morsel more of the song from within. "... Yet now I cannot envision a pleasant future without her in it." At the inquiry, she gestures a ringed hand to the porch and cottage. "We completed construction and enough furnishing, arrangement, and re-arrangement that we could formally take up residence. A housewarming celebration, of a sort."

Aryia smiles warmly, her puffing her chest out some in pride that she /sorta/ had a hand in all of this. The push to make the dominos fall, so to speak. Her gaze goes extrapolates from where the hand motions, but a glint on the extremity draws her attention sharply.

She squints.

She points.

And she stares with a brow cocked high.

The swelling may not go unnoticed, or Verna merely has similar thoughts. "I am most, and ever, grateful for your wisdom and aid in all of this." She then notes the squint and point, bringing her hand back around, looking to it, and then to Aryia. Her own brow lifts in curiosity. "Yes? Is something wrong?"

Aryia pouts. "Are you just going to sit here and fail to mention something kind of fucking important?" she motions, pointing to the ringed hand once more. <Handspeech>

Verna takes a moment to parse the gestures with the aid of the repeated indication. "My ring?" She extends the hand towards Aryia to display it. "Yes, it is of great importance to me. It better allows me to channel magic. As a point of fact, I gifted Auranar with a ring of her own, for her protection. It is nearly identical to this one and the first I ever crafted. She is also of great importance to me, of course."

Her hand lowers to her lap and her smile returns. "She was most delighted by it. Telamon, Ravenstongue, and even Apotheosis were rather celebratory afterwards, as well."

Aryia slowly blinks at the explanation, her gaze panning slow- painfully slow upwards to the half-mul to meet her gaze.

She opens her mouth once.

Then slowly closes it. "V-rn-," she vocalizes in that hiss.

She inhales, then gestures slowly, "You are a wonderful friend and an intelligent, sharp individual. I know you had some trouble early on, but /please/ tell me that you're just fucking with me and didn't /accidently/ propose to Aura without realizing it." <Handspeech>

"I..." Verna gets that syllable out before her thoughts are sidetracked at considering Aryia's interperetation. Her own knowlegde of social customs has always been... a lower priority than other topics. Of course, she did study some specific avenues in the course of developing her relationship, but... reactions of those present would not have invalidated that interperetation...

Her train of thought suddenly speeds up and heads out into distant lands. Alternatively, it may have just derailed somewhere more local. EVentually, she finishes with, "I only wished her safe. The ring protects against falls; our home is upon the cliff face. As well, it has great sentimental value to me..." She looks to Aryia, blinking slowly, owlishly. "Do you believe that she presumed? That I?" Another switch is hit and train of thought sputters.

Aryia watches as she could almost see the train of thought clatter and derail, swirling around and making the logical arcanist work overtime to analyze everything about the near past.

And it was the lack of a clear and concise answer that told the usual wisdom provider all she needed to know. And the returned question was met with the worst kind of answer.

A lofty sigh. And a pinched brow.

She starts counting on her fingers.

One. "You gave her a ring."

Two. "During a celebration for a house warming. Many people are present."

Three. "The ring is sentimental to you and her."

Four. "And Telamon and Ravenstongue were celebratory? About you just giving her a ring? That didn't strike you as odd?"

The mute grinds a palm into the side of her head. "And then you're going to tell me you gave her the ring while on one knee." <Handspeech>

Verna manages a nore timely blink and shakes her head. "No. I was only partly crouched, as I retrieved the ring from my boot." Pause. "The dress does not bear pockets nor ties for pouches." It is a partial counter. Possibly. If those are the sole criteria, Verna calculates that she met 90, even with generous allowance for the fifth. Another pause. Calculation. A breath. A second. Another pause to listen to the singing. "If Aura made that interperetation... she did not convey such directly. I only know that she is quite delighted, at present."

There's a distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh. More aptly, the mute's palm driving into her forehead with a meaty >smack<.

"I fucking swear, no, no, no. That's not how this works. Convey it directly, /ask/ her what she thought all that meant. You can't read her mind."

She steps forward, squinting. "Quite delighted at present? Out of the blue- oh for the Harper's fucking sake, get your grey ass in there and talk with her about this right now before this become an issue," she gestures quickly.

It's really quite impressive how much swearing is able to get slipped in.

She jabs a finger towards the door. "Now." <Handspeech>

Profanities or not, Verna cannot deny Aryia's concerns, nor her advice. Neither has guided Verna astray, in any case. Her lips tighten firmly as she nods. "Yes, I will speak with her." Sooner rather than later, it appears, as Verna rises. She looks to the doorway, "I would not have her confused, or presume, nor upset..."

If Verna presumes, for a moment, that Aura did, in fact, perceive that particular meaning from her own actions... her reaction was not negative, much less a rebuttal. Though she intends to clear matters quite immediately, that thought is heartening and encouraging in its own right. That reaction further implies and provokes other thoughts.

Verna glances back to Aryia to note, quietly, "That an offer may have been perceived was not intended, but that does not preclude that the offer would never have been made... Enjoy your evening, Aryia. You are welcome here at any time." With that, she turn to enter, the opening and closing door briefly releasing sounds of humming along with a cacophony of delightful aromas

Aryia gives the half-mul a clap on the shoulder as she goes. "She's been understanding of you before, and the way you are. She accepts you for you. I look forward to that offer being actually made one day."

She grins. "And if so, I'll make the clothes for it."

She steps back towards the railing as the Mourner starts to head inside, her inhaling deep. "Catch you later. And tell her I said that smells good."

And with that, the mute simple steps off the railing to /whatever/ was below. <Handspeech>

-End Scene-