Asking Aryia
The Colosseum, Noon
Down by the entrance hall of the Colosseum on this fair weather day, where tickets are sold and fighters register, there is a minor flurry of activity. Several individuals in coats with papers stuffed to the brim in pockets are flailing with pens at a heavily scarred shadow elf.
She blinks owlishly at them as she shuts the door to a back office.
"Aryia! Aryia! Is it true you've been inducted as one of the coaches of Anagoron's Trials?!" one harks.
She frowns and shakes her head, confusion mounting.
"What about Kor's Battleguard?!"
She scowls, and shakes her head again.
A lucht pushes through. "Hey! Then what team are you coaching?!"
The mute stares at them. Shrugs with a huffs.
This doesnt satisfy them at all, as the questions come back tenfold, several registering fighters peering over at the hubbub.
"Great! Journalists," Cor'lana mutters to herself, having a rather mixed relationship with the freely-distributed word. She's slinking into the entrance hall in an outfit that seems to serve primarily to obscure her figure, cloak drawn over her person and large enough that she could very well be as the announcement in the Tribune (and the rumors that followed) proclaimed her to be.
She knows full and well that just sighting her will probably pull these interested individuals from Aryia and onto her--which, while the first is good, the second is not. "How am I supposed to get to talk to Aryia?"
A certain blonde pixie sitting on Cor'lana's shoulder, however, seems entirely unconcerned. If anything, she's excited. Her little butterfly wings already kick up into a frenzied flight. "Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh~"
Lily-of-the-Valley shimmers in, stopping in place between Aryia and the journalists. She crosses her arms and says, in a tone far too low, "The warrior known as Aryia declines all comments at this time."
"Lily, what are you doing?" Cor'lana asks quietly.
Aryia looks about sharply, far too many questions being asked, and far too many loud noises garnering a frustrated expression. She brings up a hand, to talk or to smack, its uncertain. But its stops up high.
And she blinks.
The journalists blink.
The lucht from before scribbles fiercely before belting out: "Are you her agent?! What's your roster size going to be?!"
More questions start to rise, and the mute rolls her eyes to land on Lily. There's the briefest glance beyond to Lana before she just nods once towards the office and slips into the office, gently parking Lily on her shoulder as she goes away.
A grey hand appears from the box office, and waves at the people working there before giving a thumbs up.
The closed sign flips to open.
Waiting spectators and fighters flood the lines, drowning the reporters away.
Lana slips behind Aryia, drawing up her hood so that the journalists don't get much of a good look at her before doing so. Once the office is shut, Cor'lana sighs a little in relief, pulling the hood off of her cloak. "Thank you," she says. "And, err--sorry about Lily."
"What do you mean, sorry!?" Lily-of-the-Valley says, bristling from where she sits on Aryia's shoulder--until she remembers that Cor'lana is her lady, and then Lily coughs. "Err, I mean, there's nothing to be sorry about! I simply pulled the heat off of our VERY COOL FRIEND, Aryia!"
"I don't know if you did or you just fanned the flames some more," Cor'lana murmurs, before she offers Aryia a little smile. "I heard you were here these days. I was hoping to catch up a bit and--to talk to you about something quite important."
Aryia flips the lock and latch shut as she and Lana make their way into the narrow hallway of the back offices that go around the inner rim of the Colosseum. She just snorts and shakes her head, giving a grin to Lily as she holds up a fist to fist bump the little pixie.
"The heat is good for what I'm doing," she signs with her free hand before lightly kicking a door open. A makeshift sign dangling on it reads 'Aryia's office.' Inside is sparse, recently cleaned out, and nothing more there than a simple journal on the desk with half written conversations between whoever's in the chair across from her desk.
She shuts the door to her office and hops up to sit on her desk. "The amount of training I've done for others got noticed, so I coach here now," she elaborates before rubbing her temples. "I didn't realize how complex the team politics is, but whatever. You want some water or something? Beer? Probably can make tea happen." <Handspeechh>
"Tea would be wonderful," Cor'lana says with a smile--
"The Lady can't have alcohol! She's with child!" Lily-of-the-Valley whispers with clear glee and excitement. "We have no clue if it's coming out with starry eyes or wolfy tail or--"
Cor'lana facepalms as Lily-of-the-Valley looks thoughtful and adds, "Wait, what if it has both? Is that possible? I bet that's possible."
"Lily, we are not discussing that matter right now," Cor'lana says, very delicately. Desperate for a subject change, she adds, "So how'd you get this position here?"
The mute nods, opening up a drawer on her desk as she pulls out a brass kettle beside her. However, there is a blank stare at the excited Lily. "Right. She can't drink. Sure," she gestures slowly before looking past the pixie towards Lana with a familiar expression of 'I don't buy this bullshit.'
Waterskin pops, and she pours it into this little artifice kettle before pressing a button. A red light comes on at the base. "Both. Sure. Because that's totally how bodies work, miss 'born from a fucking kid laughing'. Anyways."
She looks to Lana, crossing one leg over the other. "Long story short, I've ran so many little training seminars and beat the shit out of pretty much every person here to the point they be morons to not let me coach. I got a weird style, don't have a team, and the crowd goes crazy when I step out." She smirks lightly. "It's a bit cathartic, considering I used to be on the bad end of fighting rings. Now I'm in control."
The kettle rumbles as water starts to boil within. "Between that and ripping my hair out over morons at the Elunan temple, I've had my hands full." <Handspeech>
Cor'lana smiles at Aryia, a little secretive thing that suggests that Aryia's wise in more ways then one, at her discussing the matter of maybe-wolf-baby with Lily-of-the-Valley. But it turns to genuine curiosity and interest when Aryia explains what she's been up to. "It sounds like you've been busy," she says. "It's a good match, though. Training those who want training. I think I'd be in a similar position myself if it weren't for--other circumstances."
"Mirabilis says I was probably born from a child's laugh after they farted," Lily-of-the-Valley says with the world's most severe pixie-pout.
"She's probably right," Cor'lana remarks to Lily before she looks back to Aryia. "Speaking of morons at Ni'essa's temple... Seldan, Telamon, and I learned something very important. Something I'd ask you not to repeat. But I divulge it asking for your help anyway."
Aryia gives a firm nod just as the kettle clicks off, her reaching back to pull out a cup and some loose tea. Scrawled in Sildanyari on the box is 'orange and spice'. "Thanks. It's been... helpful. There's still some parts of me I'm trying to quell. Like being angry so much. I think showing others things has put me in better perspectives."
The mute snorts as she pours water and steeps tea. "Would not surprise me. But hey, at least you're fun."
She glances to Lana as she request secrecy. "Hey, Lily. The gladiators have to do a pre workout before every bout. If you go down the hall to the end, there's this door..." she trails off, stopping to pull tea out of the cup as she sets it in front of Cor'Lana. <Handspeech>
"OH YEAH!" Lily-of-the-Valley yells at the top of her little lungs. "I'M GONNA GO LOOK AT SOME PECS. AND SOME ABS. THE WHOLE MEAT PACKAGE. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE--"
Cor'lana, helpfully, opens the door just a little before Lily-of-the-Valley can faceplant right into it. Once the little pixie is out of the office, she shuts the door and says, "Very well played. We'll probably hear from her in about an hour or two." She grins at Aryia before taking up her teacup, a thank-you in the form of a grateful nod before she sips.
"So," she says. "I know you're not a fan of beating around the bush. I'll get to it then. We have discovered the location of the Star of Tears."
Cor'lana pauses only a moment, looking rather seriously at Aryia over the rim of her teacup. "The Griever has it, in the Castle Vadumisa. Telamon, Seldan, and I plan on going. We'll need help--if you're willing and available, of course."
Aryia grins, a silver clad ear flicking from the yelling. Waits until the pixie zooms out of there, and lets a breath out as the door clicks shut. "Figured that would work, thirsty little fucker."
There's a little nod of appreciation at getting straight to the point.
The mute blinks. Her jaw tenses. Without prompting, she hops off her desk and rips open a drawer, pulling out her satchel and tossing it onto the desk. The open journal on the desk gets pulled towards her, and she scribbles on it before ripping the page out and putting it on her desk face up.
It read: 'Fuck off, I have other important shit- Coach Aryia'
She gestures sharply. "I fucking knew some dumb bitch had it. That Communion with the High Seeress was stressful as shit. Of course I'm willing. Some dumb fuck head is disrupting the balance of literally everything? I'm not going to sit here with my thumbs up my ass." <Handspeech>
There's a severe nod from Cor'lana in firm agreement with Aryia's indications. "I figured you'd want in," she says. "I'm not overly-familiar with the Griever, but I know that Seldan has it out for him. The man was furious when he learned who had it--in a way I've never seen him to be."
She takes a sip at the end of her marveling tone. "Which means that I'll do everything I can to ensure we have what we need going in. Telamon's studies have eclipsed my own at this point--a thing he's earned, of course; I've had my nose too far into poetry. But I won't be the weak link this time if I can help it." Clearly she feels a certain way about nearly falling victim to the ill effects of a demon summoning.
Aryia huffs. "Because this is one of the biggest fucking sacrilegious things you can do. Shit, I don't even care about Eluna that much and even I'm mad about it." She rubs her face. "We'd have to be careful, that fucking thing can shatter your literal existence. In the hands of a warmongerer, it's not good at all."
The mute slings her bag over her shoulder and hops back up onto her desk, leaning forward to to take in every word Cor'lana has to offer. "The two of you together makes whatever you do stupid strong, don't worry. My problem is- I don't know what the fucker can do, and its hard to talk about because of what the Griever can do. Do we know anything about the castle? Or just that it's in this castle." <Handspeech>
"I think Telamon and Seldan both know more about the Vadumisa family and their castle," Cor'lana replies. "Seldan said it's magically unstable. Which means... Telamon and I can go, but our magic talent might prove to be a hindrance more than a boon at times. You coming along may be very helpful. At the very least, it'd prove to be a powerful asset."
She frowns. "Beyond that, I don't know much else," she says. "That's probably by design, considering... Well." She makes a gesture that can more or less be interpreted as 'spies' in Handspeech.
The sorceress sips her tea a moment more before adding, "Maybe I should have taken up more fencing lessons, but wielding Mortal Dread and feeling it take a life was..." She shivers then. Despite the fact that she just drank something warm. "I'd rather not repeat the experience, even with a mundane blade."
Aryia chews her lip, looking off to the side for a moment. "I am familiar with some magic fuckup places. I.. hmm. I cannot negate magic, but I have learned ways to keep it from affecting me. Granted, this means magic you use on me can get negated, but-" she shrugs. "I'm probably your best bet for magical explosions. Probably means magic ways of getting in will be harder."
She ponders. "... well, I can always punch a hole in the fucking wall."
Never change, Aryia.
The little sign gets a mild nod of acknowledgement, but she doesn't extrapolate further. "I hate using blades," she admits, having mentioned this in the past. "Reminds me of when I got all these scars. Mortal Dread is fucking intense, so I don't blame you. But, honestly, it's worth learning even how to use a knife. Like, seriously. We're going into a magic fuck off zone, might need to know how to stab something. I know you may not like that- shit, took me a long time to get used to what I do with my bare hands- but its the fact of the matter. Get an adamantine one if you can, lets you cut through metal like butter if you have to do something mundane like, I don't know, carving out the lock to a door." <HAndspeech>
"Better adamantine than cold iron, I suppose," Cor'lana remarks quietly before taking another sip of her tea. "I have a cold iron blade, but it makes me feel deeply uncomfortable when I touch it. Suppose it's a consequence of being, well, you know."
She sighs. "I'll look into it," she says. "It'll at least be something... new. A last line of defense if need be. Although I'm finding myself wishing I had anything of Grandfather's talent with combat myself--I did ask him for a bit of power when I used Mortal Dread on that demon and I was answered for it. He knows his way with a blade."
Cor'lana shrugs after a moment. "I suppose when you're that old, you have time to learn a lot of things."
"Tits deep in fey shit?" Aryia answers with a snort as she hops off her desk. "Or just be like me where you just punch shit so hard to doesn't matter."
The mute takes her signature jacket off a nearby coat peg on the wall, her throwing it over her shoulders with a silver clasp keeping it secure. "And you think getting his power in a magic fucked place will work?" Aryia bluntly counters. "Spending time in poetry instead of practicing begets well, not knowing how to stab something."
She shrugs. "Fair. Learned a decent bit in my previous life. Politics, schmoozing, religious ceremonies, sewing. Some things you keep. Some things you let go. Once I get done with this-" she knocks on her desk, "-who knows what I'll be doing next. Maybe I'll be a pirate. Or just fuck off into the mountains for like a hundred years. I don't know. You get that old, you get bored and learn random things." <Handspeech>
Cor'lana looks embarrassed. "No, I had no real ambition of pulling on the pact successfully in a place where magic is unstable," she admits. "And yes, I have lost... a bit of time in poetry, among some of my other developments in the Theatre District. After everything I've been through... I wanted a break. At least for a while."
She sighs a little, but a smile's there on her face soon after. "Probably time for the break to be over, though," she says. "It's not good to be out of practice. I'll have to find somewhere I can practice inconspicuously, however. Lest I get hounded by journalists and... Other sorts."
Cor'lana looks idly back at the door. "Think Lily-of-the-Valley's gotten herself in trouble yet?" she asks.
Aryia puts her hands up. "I don't blame you. After Aya's demon shit, I fucked off to my boat for months. I guess this here for me is a break, in a way. Anywho, what a good way to get back into things by casually finding a god killer weapon, yes?" Poor jokes. She finds it funny, at least, with that dumb grin on her face.
She slips forward, opening the door and keeping it ajar with a foot. "Absolutely. But, those gladiators love showing off. So she's probably going to be in there for a very long time. Maybe bleed out through her nose. And a buff Anagoron priest can heal her back up to start over again."
She looks down the hall. A bassy voice, muffled, declares, "Angoron's Trials! Pose assemble! And- FLEX!"
"... she'll be fine, come, this way, we can slip out the back." She beckons to follow turning down another narrow hallway. <Handspeech>
Cor'lana and Aryia are both perceptive enough to hear the slight sound of a particular pixie squealing, "Oh YEAH!" in response to the flexing being called.
This results in Cor'lana coming to her feet, putting her empty teacup away, and then grinning from ear to ear as she follows Aryia out. "Yeah, you're right," she says. "I'm sure she'll be just fine. At least the garden will be quiet for a few hours."
She scratches her head. "Now if I could get Pothy to stop teasing me, that'd be nice," she remarks. That's an impossible ask. Little brothers will be little brothers--even in the form of leucistic ravens.
Aryia cannot help but sputter in a silent laughter at Lily's encouragement. She shakes her head and rubs her face, snickering all the while. "Shove him in a pantry, I think that'll work," she jokes with a smile.
The two bob and weave through the back offices, before eventually coming through a double locked door that has a dozing Kor guard on the inside. The mute gives her a jab to rouse them before slipping outside into the crisp, fair weathered fall air. "Thanks for the chat. And good to see you. Get me at my house when you're ready. I cannot wait to smack some assholes around."
Down just a block, past the crowds, in the entrance where the journalists jabber and the spectators line up, a single Korite walks up to the wall where posters of famous gladiators and coaches get plastered up. One gets rolled on.
A picture of a scarred mul'neissa woman, fist clinched in front of her with a scowl knitting her brows together, eyes glaring over the rim of her silver shades. Blocky letters at the top and bottom read: 'New Coach! Aryia! Special entry division! Weapons optional!'
And looking up at that poster is a dark, olive skinned half-oruch woman with black dreads bundled together in a high ponytail. Tattoos of Khor’Dagorlth cover her arms, and wooden charms clank quietly as she stares up at the posting with wide, black scarla eyes.
"Are you. Fucking. Serious?!"