Little Moon

Log Info

• Title: Little Moon
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Venom
• Place: Lower Markets, 142A Lynxstride Lane
• Time: February 22nd, 2022
• Summary: Aryia and Venom are enjoying lounging about in their abode, only to be interrupted by a Shadow. It informs them that they were to have a guest soon, and they scurry to clean up the place and swap out Venom for Violet. Khalees, Aryia's mother, arrives, banging on the door with news. Apparently, the pugilist's father has been put in jail for a multitude of reasons. Tea is made by 'Violet', and they converse, doing their best to quell the worrying matron. Even going as far to employ the supposed bookkeeper for some translation work on some tomes. Eventually, Aryia mentions under the guise of handspeech that Violet can let them speak in private, as the facade's mask was showing cracks that the mute could see. Violet takes the respite readily.

Lower Markets, 142A Lynxstride Lane.

It's a chilly evening outside, hence the fire in the hearth is stoked to a toasty blaze. Dinner has come and gone, sitting upon the couch upside down is that of a scarred mul'neissa woman. She's dressed down, in an oversized shirt meant for a human, her kicking her feet over the back of it as she holds a book up, thumbing through the pages slowly

Shadows slowly dance along the floor, cast by fires against the coffee table. The mute, as of late, has been in a fantastic mood. Chipper and energetic, even her training had been a bit lazy as of late.

Venom emerges from their room, clad in the semi snug fitting cotton shirt of the sort she wears under her adventuring gear, as well as loose, flowing slacks she as belted under it. Her hands busy themselves with guiding a brush through her raven locks, with a subtle pink tinge along her cheekbones that crosses the bridge of her nose, along the path of Violet's recently removed freckles.

"Hello, my love." comes her gentle croon, "What do you have there?" <sildanyari>

GAME: Aryia rolls 1d20+12: (10)+12: 22

A scarred grey face tilts back some, spilling snowy hair along the ground as she spies the approaching roommate. She smiles winningly, and lifts up the cover of the book: 'Tuck and Tumble'.

Was one of Venom's reference books about locks. "Picking up a thing or two," she motions with a hand. "You look nice."

The shadows waver as Venom passes by the fireplace, and Aryia idly glances to the side. Her smile drops, and the free hand suddenly slaps the ground. <Handspeech>

"... ow," a faint voice of crinkled glass comes from the ground.

Slap slap slap.

"Ow, ow, you needn't- I have tidings."

The wayward weapon smiles in her particularly Venom way toward her North Star, then starts to make her wave toward her on catlike footfalls, "Oh! Well, if you want, I know a few spots we can practice if you-!"

With Aryia's sudden shift in demeanor, the Acanian's changes gears and she assumes a wary posture, grip on her brush adjusting only slightly, and her expression a doll like mask as her eyes scan about the area.

Toward the talkative spot on the floor. The timbre delays her hand, but doesn't stay it, as she still seems ready to go to work.

There isn't much of anything to scan. Almost nothing remiss at all aside from that unsettling voice of crinkling glass in a glass jar. Nothing at- wait, the shadows Aryia is slapping at. They're shifting with each hit.

The umbra itself detaches from the floor and rises slightly, the shadow resting a blob on the coffee table. Two spaces vacate on itself form, it shifting between the comb wielding woman, and the mute who's hand was starting to flicker into a familiar moonlight.

"What the fuck do you want?" Aryia asks, unfazed by this appearance of an undead within their abode. <Handspeech>

"Many apologies," it whispers, warily looking to the lit hand before doing a faint 'bow' towards Venom. "I am Lingers-In-Passing. I serve the master."

"Mom," Aryia answers before the question is asked. <Handspeech>

"The master will be arriving in.... two minutes."

"... ah fuck."

Venom's head cants a little, as this is not exactly what she expected, but her expression is unchanged, and she still stands ready to brush the hell out of...

Whatever the folks have sent their way.

The notice that they're about to have company turns her dark eyes toward Aryia, and, she straightens with a level, "Hi." toward the hapless herald.

Aryia groans quietly, closing her literature and knocking the cover against her forehead. "... could not have come at a /worse/ time..." she hisses quietly before quitting the couch and rolling off it to a stand.

The blob of shadow's vacant spaces shift toward Venom. "Greetings," it returns cordially, though the words crinkle like cold, snapping glass in a blizzard.

The mute shoos the umbra. "Go, get, get out of here, tell her uh, I'm naked or something and I'll need a bit."

"The master may arrive regardless of attire," it mentions deadpan.

"Stall her or tackle her or something."

"I cannot physically do that."

The pugilist rubs her face, annoyed.

Well, they could have shown up when Venom's 'guiding hands' came calling, but that would be the start of a particularly bad day.

Something living seems to come back to Venom's features, a vague dismay, perhaps, and she turns on her heel fleet-foot her way back to their room to put her face back together, "Tell her to use the door."

Because coming in through the windows might get spicey.

Aryia pinches the bridge of her nose as Venom high-tails it back into the room. She jabs a finger towards the Shadow. "Tell her to use the door. And /knock/."

"I will inform her."

A hand wreathes in moonlight.

"... I will implore her."

And then the shadow vanishes into the floor.

The mute growls to herself, vaults over the couch, and jogs into the room to help Venom get put together.

A few minutes later (hey, the undead bought a minute!), there's a firm yet careful knock at the door.

With a touch of alchemical witchery, a stencil, some makeup and her odd little cheek pads, Violet is returned, mostly, to the waking world. Her hair, however, is a bit of a snarl, as there's simply no way to properly braid it and it's extra components in the time allowed, and so, her hair is bundled into a towel atop her head, and some of her house clothes are employed.

Just in time, perhaps, as the knock begins.

""I'll clear the traps." she signs, before scurrying about toward the possible breach points to gather up her seasoned little friends. <handspeech>

The mute had taken no percautions herself to be presentable. Except for a peck on the human's cheek, she wastes no time scurrying about the house to shove things into place or pickup errant clothes. Or spicy surprises in the other hidden place.

Before long, Aryia is at the door, rubbing her face with a languid sigh. She affords one knock. Then two. Then a third.

"Zilly, open the damn door," a muffled woman's voice huffs behind it.

The pugilist squints at the portal before glancing to Violet, checking things were okay, then opening the... three or so lock on the thing.

The door is shoved open, and a harried looking mul'neissa barges her way in. "Forgetful Mother, it is /cold/ out there," Khal, the one eyed mother of Aryia, shudders as she closes the door. "I am sorry for the intrusion, truly."

Venom discretely sets her juicy jacks in their room, probably just upending them into her haversack before reemerging to greet the Mul'niessa matriarch.

Her expression is concerned as Violet asks, "Is everything alright?" in the soft, demure tone she's assumed for this persona, "Would you care for some tea to warm up?"

She glances at Aryia, brow arching, then back to their guest.

Aryia shares a look with Violet. And encounters a problem.

With the pugilist's development of being able to understand all. She too can be understood by all. So, she had to resort to half-speak with her hands. The one thing her mother didn't know how to speak. "I don't know-" <Handspeech>

The matriarch pinches the bridge of her nose as she leans against the door. A familiar looking shadow seeps in from underneath, and attaches itself to the mother's umbra. "None follow," the crinkle glass voice intones.

"Tea would be... grand, actually. Thank you dear," she nods towards Violet, trying to smile, but it barely reaches her singular violet eye. "Things are... you could say, somewhat frustrating. Your father, Aryia, and I haven't been able to rest in some time. Your father moreso than I. Something about mages having an issue with sleep as of late..."

She looks to the ceiling. "So... loathe I am to admit it, your father insulted one of the Watch, and is currently in a cell. Due to, and I quote 'rising tensions with Charn'."

Venom frowns as the reason for Aryia's forge suddenly dropping in on them in the middle of the night comes to bear. She sighs and nods, "Of course, I'll put the kettle on."

She affords the room a demure smile, then turns to set about making that happen.

'None follow' is not as reassuring as it probably would be to others.

Well, the upside is, if company calls, there's plenty of things in the kitchen to put to hand.

The matron givs a thankful nod towards Violet, and she ambles towards the table to sit, her rubbing her face. "It's the most maddening thing, as we've done nothing truly remiss."

Aryia purses her lips and shrugs, a brow raised.

Khalees huffs. "They think him a Charnese spy. Which, to their credit, your father's magics is certainly suspicious."

Another sigh, the mother looking to Violet in the kitchen. "At least he is hale, just... frustrating, trying to get our feet under here and something like this comes up. How fare you two? I apologize for.. dropping in."

Aryia opens her mouth-

"Vuqra," she answers before the question is asked. The mute frowns, then looks at some long shadow on the ground.

Violet, meanwhile, busies herself with pumping some water into the kettle, then moving toward the shelf to select suitable tea.

"We were doing well enough, thank you." she answers in her gentle tone, looking back over her shoulder, "I'm sorry things have turned out this way, but, perhaps the Guard can be shown reason?"

The human turns to collecting mugs, when her hands pause, but without looking back, and only a little cant of her head, she parrots, "Vugra?"

That little bit got a scoff and an eye roll to come from both mother and child. "The Guard is useless," Aryia gestures to Violet, a disillusioned frown on her face.

"Vuqra," she repeats, emphasizing the Q. "My Shadow. 'tis their name. They're my... eyes and ears, so to speak. I apologize for any intrusion of privacy. I am used to having many cards in hand, but now I am blind here," the one eyed matron mentions.

Aryia glances to her.

"... no pun intended."

On the one hand, there are things Venom knows....

...and Violet, perhaps not so much, in regards to the reliability and disposition of the Guard.

The brunette gathers the preimlinary wares onto their little sign/tray and she passes the stove, pausing only to set the kettle over the heat before making her way to the table.

She sets the mugs, a place for each of them, as well as the currently dry components of the tea, itself on the table with a gravely concerned expression on her features.

"It's... it was bewildering, when I first came to Alexandria, I had a great deal to learn, all at once." she offers, perhaps trying to be sympathetic, or as a show of solidarity with the comparatively ancient matriarch.

Khalees shakes her head. "Thank you," she gestures towards the tea being set out.

Then, in an odd display of the age gap not mattering in the slightest, she expresses empathy, and heavily sighs. "... as did we getting here. If it were not for Aryia's friend Seyardu, we would still be stuck at the gates."

She raises a brow over her singular eye. "What sorts of difficulties did you have getting here? Or... have to learn?"

The young human (are there any other kind?) gives that a moment's thought, her eyes half lidding as she considers a spot on the table, "Which sections of the city were more unsavory, or otherwise unwelcoming. Who to trust..."

She smiles anew, and reaches out to gently clasp Aryia's hand, "Where to find shelter, or food, or where to ply a trade." There is a little shake of the human's head, then, "Seyardu is a most kind soul, I'm glad you met her. She's a sweetheart."

The mother tuts. "I see. For us it was the gates. Near the river on the northern half seems the most amiable, such as here." She watches the human for a moment, glancing to the motion that Aryia easily returns.

Aryia gives a slight nod. "She is kind. Made my job hard early on, but it worked out in the end." <Handspeech>

"The Althean is... kind, if naive."

"She comes from another land, with a different culture." Violet replies, defending their friend, "She has shown great clarity of wit, even if some of our ways are a little..." Her head tetters a little concommitedly, "confounding."

She siles to her dear, then looks to the Matron, "Have you had any other difficulties?" thinking of the ambassador from Charn.

Given the family history, there's little dowubt she'd be something of a complication.

The matron sticks her bottom lip out. "And I am no different?" she counters the defending.

The mute squints, and snaps her fingers right in front of mother, a little burst of moonlight going off. The matron 'acks', her shielding her eye from the sudden light. "... though it should be respected," she grumbles, properly chastised. Aryia smiles back, smug.

The question asked, she glances the violet orb over to the human. "Plenty. Aside from the usual mul'neissian issues of, well, existing outside Charn, the way Aryia's father and I operate is... well, considering the zeal that this city has against fiends... the officials don't particularly like it when we use our methods. So, your 'Guild' tends to be our only source of income, and even that, the jobs are subpar."

Violet sighs, "That isn't what I meant. You have centuries of experience to draw upon, and, you have a most penetrating wit." she replies in mollification.

She glances to Aryia at the aruatechnics and gives the hand within hers a little squeeze, then listens to her love's mother describe their woes.

'Their' guild?

Speaking toward the Alexandrian generality, perhaps.

Reroute and continue.

"I have heard adventurers talk. I understand a lot of jobs, particular with new members seem to be as much about... hazing... as learning the caliber of their roster."

Khalees shakes her head. "It it is well and fine, dear," she waves off the compliment. It took more than that to shake what seemed to be a high self view. She spies the glance to her daughter, and she clears her throat. "The Explorer's Guild," she clarifies, not knowing the 'their' part. Perhaps she just lumped Alexandrians together.

The mother sighs. "Yes, it is the most /inane/ work. Deliver this, clear out a rat problem, protect a merchant that can't be arsed to figure out which was is north and which way is his arse. I am an /accomplished/ fencer, not a greenhorn," she massively pouts.

Oh, so that's where Aryia got that pout from.

There is the slight pursing of artfully plumped lips as Violet is forced to concede some of those points, which she does with a little not. As she opens her mouth to voice.... some manner of retort, the ketter begins it's whistle, and the human rises, "Pardon, I won't be a moment."

She rises, ever demure, and turns to pad toward the stove to retrieve to pot.

Upon her return, she distribute the tea, which Khalees recieving the first serving as their guest, of course, then Aryia, with Violet herself being the last, "I'm sorry we don't have any biscuits or the like to go along with it." she blushes, glancing at Aryia, "We... were going to the market, later. Would you care for honey for your tea?"

The Matron dips her head in thanks. "Yes please. Thank you once more, dear. Worry not, I don't expect royal treatment and fanfare anymore. Haven't for..."

Her gaze turns to Aryia. "... a handful of decades," she decides to share.

Aryia dips her head at the notion for tea, both mother and daughter reaching out with their right hand to move their cups to the center of the table.

They share a look, and break into a soft chuckle.

With steady hands, Violet distributes the potables into their receptacles with nary a drop out of place. She bows her head with a faint smile, "Of course, I'll fetch it. One moment, please."

The human rises, watching the two Mul'niessa have their unspoken moment with the faint arching of an eyebrow before she turns to her assumed task without remark to the station of their guest.

She isn't certain how the evening will proceed, nor further how it will impact their nights going forward, but, she expects Aryia will have a course to follow, and she deigns to support her, regardless.

Conversation doesn't resume immediately. Well, it couldn't. The father was the one that could translate for them. So the duo sit in silence for a spell. Even though, well, Aryia could whisper if the need arised.

Once Violet returns, the Matron speaks up. "Violet, if I may ask, you say you do ledger work and some translations, no? Where at, if I may be privy? I... may have need of such services."

Violet returns with a few spoons and a capped jar in one hand, with a knitted wad of some sort clutched in the other.

"I don't have a standing office, or the like if that is your meaning." she begins, carefully setting her burdens upon the tabletop.

She opens the jar, then uses the spoon to carefully dole out some of the golden honey, "Let me know when it's enough."

With the directive offered, she returns to the conversation at hand, "I have contacts in the Explorer's Guild, and sometimes I get work by word of mouth. I do my work at the client's locale, as often, some writings, especially particular aged or ill treated ones, are extremely delicate. Moving them overmuch risks destroying them."

A grey hand raises just after one spoon. "That is well," the mother hums, reaching out to take up the spoon that doled out the honey. She brushes a hand against hers to take it.

There's a pause. Then she stirs her drink. "I see. I may have use of your services. My husband and I are gathering some texts and may need some translation help that magic cannot afford."

She glances to Aryia, then nods towards Violet. "You've been teaching her your... trade?" she inquires, curious.

The large hand freezes as it's withdrawl from the jar is curtailed by the matriarch's caressing hand, hesitating for a moment before relinquishing the utensile to their's guest's custody. Violet's expression falters a moment, a tooth not quite finding mesh from the sensation, and not entirely sure of the cultural significance of the greater gesture.

It passes quickly, as Khalees broaches the topic of work, "Ah.. I see..." she begins while regrouping, "We can arrange something, I'm certain."

Her dark eyes flick to Aryia on this final question, brow arching anew.

It really was just her taking the spoon. Nothing more.

Aryia glances to Violet as well, and she takes a breath. "Uh.." she quietly whispers, "... y.. yess, I have. a little bit. Just in case."

The matron slowly nods, her sipping on her tea slowly after blowing it off. It's set down daintily. "See that you stick to it, you could learn quite a bit from her. If only she picked up the fence once more."

Aryia squints.

Khalees raises a brow. "... what? You were quite the fencer. I'm sure there's still some of it in you."

The mute rolls a shoulder, sighing.

"Aw, don't give me that. If she can hold a quill steady for notes, I think she can hold a blade steady."

Hm.

Violet holds her gaze on Aryia as she gives her mother an answer that, apparantly, meets her satisfaction.

With a demure, "I will, thank you." she sets about offering her beloved some honey of her own, as sometimes there's a mood for such things, and she won't take it for granted, now.

The brow arches a little higher than before as she considers the statement about Aryia's hand at bladework, particularly in light of their past conversations.

"Do you know which languages were used?" she inquires, perhaps to give her North Star a momentary breather.

Aryia holds up two fingers for honey, her giving a light and thankful smile.

Khalees leans in. "Mysandraal. Old Sildanyari. Celestial. Found some old books and tomes. Trying to figure out what is going on with--"

A finger flicks out and points right at the glowing eye'd mute.

"--That one."

Aryia blinks.

Processing that a moment, Violet nods with a thoughtful cast to her expression, "I see..." she intones softly, glancing to Aryia, then to Khalees, "I have some understanding of some of those alphabets."

The human then, very poised and proper, starts to dole out her beloved's requested serving of honey with the second spoon before leaning in to kiss her hair.

As her attention more absently, if precisely tends to her own cup, her eyes reacquire the Mul'niessan matriarch, "With time, I can crack the others, but I can consult with some of the librarians to get enough sample data to speed some of that along."

Aryia gives a soft and closed eye smile at the peck on her pate, her leaning into it while her tea is doctored.

"Time better spent in the libraries of Eluna than anything else," the matron mentions, sipping on her drink." You're a studious one, aren't you?"she teases. Aryia squints at her.

"My father wouldn't have it, otherwise." Violet replies thoughtfully, setting the spoon beside the tea kettle to take up the knit cozy that she then slides over the receptacle.

The human eases graceully back into her seat and wonders, "Do you like to read?" in counter.

"I mean your references for the translation task to be," Khalees corrects. Then, a sage nod. "I do. My particular musings used to be more studious in nature, though I've been privy on learning more of foreign affairs."

Violet's eyes half lid, and she brings her teacup to her lips for a slow sip. She sets the cup back to the table without spillage, then, "It wouldn't do to let expectations build toward the unrealistic. I am confident that I can help you, but you should know that it will take some time, and there may be nuance or fine detail that could be lost in translation."

She shrugs her shoulders a little bit, then curls her hands around the warm teacup, "In an engineering context, such things can be disasterous, as an example. While the odds are low, they are there, and I'd be a fool to discount them, and offering in bad faith not to advise you of them."

Khalees chuckles softly. "No unrealistic expectations, I assure you. No worries, we have time. It is more for questions left unanswered after some time."

She watches for a moment, then smiles wanly. "You have quite the brain, dear. Engineering to boot? My my, you dip your toes in many subjects."

"I see." Violet replies, then brings her cup to her lips between her palms for another sip.

Bringing the mug down, but not quite returning it to it's place, she smiles a touch, then, "In a basic sense."

She looks to Aryia a moment, then, "Are you certain you wouldn't like some privacy?" she asks gently, "I know you have a lot of catching up to do."

Khalees smiles warmly, with a hint of a smirk that feels like she knows more than she's letting on. Or is that just a mul thing? "Of course. Transcribing so many things it doesn't surprise me you picked up a thing or two."

Aryia glances to Violet, her reading her for a moment before softly nodding. "Sure, we can catch up, Violet."

Khalees merely raises a brow.

The human nods with a smile to Aryia, then looks to Khalees, "You've been seperated for a long time, and now your husband is being held." Her expression grows somewhat uncertain, "I thought... you would like some time without me underfoot, so you can talk and... see to each other?"

There is a quizzical glance between the two women, "Or..?"

Aryia gestures to Violet, "That wouldn't be a bad idea. To, uh.. give us privacy. And you a moment?" Seeing the cracks the persona held before her matron could pick up on it. <Handspeech>

Khalees raises a mere brow at Aryia's answer, uncomprehended.

Violet smiles and bows her head a little before leaning in to kiss Aryia on the cheek, "I'll see if I can find something more to offer in the kitchen, dear."

She rises, taking her teacup with her, then, "Please, let me know if you need anything else."

With that, she steps back toward the kitchen area to reorient and shore up her hastily assumed mindset.

Aryia near silently chuckles as she returns the peck with one of her own. She gives a soft nod, then turns her attention towards her mother.

Said mother waggles her fingers at the human, none the wiser. "So... your father has been dabbling in the under workings of this city, and you had this quaint place all along?"

Aryia pouts.

"Oh, don't give me that. I know you want your space. I respect that, this was a bit important though. However... how /is/ that little moon?"

Conversation, near silent, resumes.

'Little moon' no doubt has a story to it...

Violet busies herself while the ladies of the House trade curious banter. Some of the cupboards are opened and rifled, because what else would Venom do with them, really?

A bit of bread turns up, and she spends a few moments slicing it. The blended fruit preserves are getting rather thin, but there should be enough...

She imagines things are going to become more complicated, soon, but for now, she takes her guidance from Sloe, allowing the women to enjoy the moment.

-End Scene-