Meeting New Faces
It's Korday, Pryntar 23 16:42:19 1019. The full moon is up. The tide is low and slack. Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west, along with the wind. The sunlight on the snow is dazzling, and it gleams on the ice.
A11: Festival Grounds
There's no denying how cold it is as the late afternoon draws on toward evening, but the skies have at least been clear today. The grandstands of the fesival grounds are magically warmed, leaving a place of relative comfort for those who have come to watch the practice bouts that fill the off-times in between events here. In a particular dirt track, an armored griffon bears an archer between obstacles, the rider shooting at a variety of artificial... and artifice targets.
In an attempt to ward off some of that cold, Wilros has snuggled into a thick green cloak. A small gasp escapes his lips as he reaches the seating area of the Festival Grounds that are miraculously warmer than the natural weather. This could be an indication that it is his first time in this specific section of the city. He smiles cheerfully, shrugging off his cloak and placing it somewhere nearby. Underneath it is a plain shirt made of soft wool and brown trousers to match. He takes a seat and watches the display with innocent wonder.
The archer completes a circuit of the track, and pats the griffon upon the snowy white feathers of its neck, then the beast launches skyward and does a fly-by of the grandstands. This doesn't put the archer off at all, though, as he lets loose a volley of three arrows in rapid succession at targets on the track below...
GAME: Ga'Elian rolls Bow-RapidShot: (17)+19+-2: 34
GAME: Ga'Elian rolls Bow-RapidShot-5: (2)+19+-2+-5: 14
GAME: Ga'Elian rolls Bow-RapidShot: (1)+19+-2: 18
...hitting impressively with the first, barely with the second, and not at all with the third.
The milling crowds at the southernmost edge of the festival grounds ultimately produce Skadi, who encroaches on the space by fitting herself carefully in the gaps and avenues between bodies. For an Aesir, she is certainly unusual: though her facial features, her colouring, and her wheat blonde hair clearly (and proudly) declares her heritage, she is somewhat more under-sized than other representatives of her race. Here is not a person who would be an adept soldier; too short, too fragile, and too thin to wield the famed weapons of a Northerner.
Grey eyes, wide against the confines of her freckled face, scan the area as she moves to one side of the entryway; standing back, for now, as she guages the crowd.
Wilros' lips break into a wide smile when the arrows (or arrow) strike their mark. The fact that only one of the arrows connected to the practice targets doesn't seem to disturb the adolescent at all. "So close," He slaps his knee and stands, moving over the railings of the grandstands. If the elf ever looks into the small crowd, he would see the blonde waving. He even flashes a smile to new girl.
GAME: Ga'Elian rolls acrobatics: (12)+10: 22
With the griffon some 35 feet above the ground, the elf hops off the beast and falls... rather more slowly than is strictly natural, to a decent landing right in front of the grandstands. As he "falls", he looks over the spectators, and smiles in response to Wilros' greeting.
Grey eyes dart over Wilros' smile; none returned, as Skadi reacts by scanning a slow, shy gaze over his frame. She still reluctantly begins moving towards the grand-stand in which Wilros sits, however, though she doesn't come anywhere close to him. Fawn leather boots crunch on the pavement under-foot; undercut by the rustle of her thick, wool cloak.
The response to his smile isn't new for Wilros. People in this city tend to be mistrustful of each other. Wonder why...back to the slowly descending elf, he nods his chin upwards in greeting. "Hey there. That was a neat trick you pulled off..." His blue eyes follow the beautiful, white-necked griffon for a few more moments.
Ga'Elian glances up as his steed frolics in the air, then heads up the grandstand to sit down by Wilros. He says, "You're an archer, too, it seems. Do you ever shoot from the back of a mount?" His eye is drawn for a moment to observe the approaching Aesir.
While Skadi doesn't quite approach the pair, she does sit within ear-shot; body tipping briefly back to scope out a bench as she lowers herself onto its end. With her cloak wrapped around her, it might be difficult to see much of her frame beneath; but there's a glint of silver at her throat. Her boots look worn and old.
"That I am," Wilros smiles and nods, picking an arrow from his quiver and giving it a twirl. "No...I don't have a horse - or a griffon." Shrugging, he places that arrow back into its proper place in his quiver. "I mean, I could have one. Spells like that only last for a few hours, though." His speech is casual despite talking about arcane matters that old wizards would drone on about in lengthy speeches that no one but them would ever comprehend. He glances behind him to the woman, catching the silver as it glints in the sunlight. "Hello. My name is Wilros Arroway." That last part is meant for both people.
Ga'Elian cocks his head to the side and smirks. "Well, I am Ga'Elian, and yonder," he looks aloft to the griffon circling overhead, "is Erithamiel." He stows his 5-ft-4-in bow completely inside the 20-in quiver on his back then grabs the hunting horn hanging from his neck and sounds a quick triple-toot on it. The griffon responds with a mild shriek, then spirals downward for a landing.
The dense patina of freckles lining the bridge of Skadi's nose and cheeks gather together as, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from the sun, she considers Wilros slimly. She isn't unfriendly so much as painfully introverted; seeming to mull over whether or not she'll respond before she finally offers: "Skadi" tentatively.
Something stirs behind her; eventually, the muzzle of an Emereth wardog, hulking and big-pawed, lays just by Skadi's lap.
With his eyes, Wilros follows the show with some interest. Okay, not just some. He seems a little awed, actually. So awed he almost misses the Aesir woman and her dog. Once he does spot the dog, he practically starts. "Woah," His surprise is quickly replaced with another smile, and he bends over, hands on his knees, so he's looking the dog at eye level. For the sake of personal space (and because the beast might maul him), his face is still a few feet away. "Where did you come from?
Ga'Elian looks Skadi in the face briefly, then deeply into the dog's face without uttering a sound, but making eye contact with the creature.
GAME: Ga'Elian rolls WildEmp/animal: (1)+10+1: 12
The beast doesn't take well to a stranger coming near Skadi: his ears lay back as his muzzle touches open, the impression of long, pointed fangs glinting as he begins a silent, warning snarl. Skadi's fingertips meet with the finely risen hairs of the dog's coat as she touches the back of its neck; skimming in a slow, calming stroke.
"Stormgarde", she responds to Wilros shortly (as if that weren't obvious); her freckled brow crumples, "I wouldn't come too close, were I you. Or look him in the eye. It's a challenge to a war beast".
Ga'Elian looks up from the dog to the lady. "Oh, a fierce one he is. Still, he looks cute, too."
Wilros blinks, the warning has him pulling away slightly. "Oh," Learn something new every day...the boy straightens himself, so he's standing fully at his five feet and eight inches. "I meant..." His head shakes, swaying blonde curls in the motion. "Nevermind. Does he have a name?"