The Color of a Dress

Little wind today, and none within the confines of the conjured comfort of the gardens. What spare flakes of snow reach through the canopy to the ground contribute more to ambiance than hypothermia. It is a place that has come to be a pleasant location for rest, reading, and reflection to Verna.

Presently, it would appear that the Mourner is ensconced in the lattermost, or some variation of it: hood doffed, she bears no tome for perusal nor is she even seated at a bench. Instead, she might be dutifully clearing a section of path of errant snow. With her own footfalls, as she paces to and fro, hands clasped before her.

Auranar is wearing a purple dress today, but given her red coat laid over it, one might well not notice her attempts to brighten the day with cheerful colors. She has her hands free at the moment. No baskets or books to be seen, and that might be surprising to one that knows her. Her hands are rarely idle.

Indeed they don't stay idle long, offering a broad wave to Verna as she spots the other woman and makes her way toward her. The smile on her features slowly fades however as she notes the very thoughtful expression of pacing which is being conducted by Verna. "Something the matter Verna?"

Perhaps ignoring the chill outside the gardens, a scarred mul'neissa woman is lightly jogging in from the south. She's in a tanktop, green jacket wrapped around her waist as sweat gleams her. She slows some, spying the one and a half sil, and waves a hand wrapped in boxing tape to the two, her lightly panting.

She raises a questioning brow.

The addition of further color to the flora surrounding is not immediately noted, though the wave catches some notice. Enough to draw Verna's focus to the smile that is most certainly noted. Her pacing stops and she trades one form of reflection for another as the smile is returned to Auranar from her own features.

It does return to a more pensive thin line after a moment. "There is simply much to be pondered, and not to be pondered, at present." A flicker of the smile before resurfaces. "It is good to see you. You look delightful, as ever." Those facts never require deep thought or consideration. The jogging Aryia is noted shortly thereafter, and one gloved hand lifts to return the greeting.

Verna's words cause another smile to warm on Auranar's lips and the wild elf tilts her head at the rather pensive perspective. "I will grant you that Verna. We learned a lot from the memories..." Perhaps too much given how hard Verna had pushed to gleen them. "I know it must be difficult to ignore them now."

She wants so much for Verna to be free from the memories entirely, she doesn't say that though, instead she smiles. "I dressed in the hopes of being a cheerful spot in your day, so if you like it... I've succeeded."

Aryia's gait eventually comes to a halt, her catching only the last half of the conversation. She shakes her bare arms off, ridding some of the sweat and bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looks Auranar over.

Mhmm. Mmm. Mhmm. Yep.

The seamstress gives an approving thumbs up and a smile.

Once again, Verna's countenance brightens at Auranar's smile. Given that both of their respective pairs of hands are unoccupied, for a change, hers reach for the other's. "You succeeded, indeed, and I welcome it. Stil, you should know that you shall always be such to me, regardless of your attire."

"To not seek knowledge is difficult for me, yes. Especially when it could aid others, and especially those closest to me." Her eyes shift to Aryia. "However, given the nature and intent behind said knowledge, a line must be drawn and matters left to rest." She looks back to Auranar. "I am fortunate to have those who would remind and guide me of such. So I shall do so, and be free of it."

Auranar doesn't hesitate to take Verna's hand, using her other to give Aryia a half salute which proves she's finally learned at least one word in handspeech! Progress! She also offers a brief gesture from her chin out. Two signs? Thank-you. Seems that she's taken Verna's offer to teach to heart, or at least she's been studying on her own. Her eyes sparkle with pleasure with herself that she remembered the hand symbols. "I might not _need_ to dress up, but it certainly doesn't hurt."

Her eyes soften as she looks at Verna. "Did I mention you look lovely today also? As much as I did love that purple dress on you." She's fond of the memory of them in the kitchen together, and she can't help the smile that comes from it. "As for the memories... I'll be glad enough when they're gone for good."

Aryia meets Verna's gaze with her chin raised some, her role as 'peace of mind' never truly over. Though, whatever test she had implicitly laid out was passed, and she gives a light grin and a nod.

The gestures gain the mute's attention, her blinking her surprise before perking up with a pleased beam. She offers one back, a sort of half arc outwards from collar to stomach. "You're welcome!"

She shifts onto her back foot, her panting ceasing as she nods in agreement with the wild elf. <Handspeech>

Verna is somewhat surprised, and pleasantly so, at Auranar's gestures. She looks to Aryia at the response and then between the women. A smile of her own making arises at this, though it may be the compliment of attire and/or the reminder of the dress than ruddies her cheeks. She now offers, with her free hand, the same gesture of gratitude, to each in turn. "Thank you. Both." For possibly innumerable individual reasons.

"They shall be gone forthwith. I have already made arrangements with a senior Mourner." There is then a pause as she looks between the two in silence for a moment. "I may be overestimating the risks, yet... Should any memories of my own become ... damaged in some fashion, I trust that you both would aid me with reminders?"

Auranar refuses to let such a thought into her mind. That Verna should lose her own memory is not a thought she wishes to countenance. "Of course we would Verna, but nothing of the sort is going to happen. You are going to be so much happier without his memories running about your mind." She at least seems confidant of this.

Aryia sighs in relief at the thought of not having to dance around subjects, as well as her friend having some solace in her own mind. The mute crosses her arms and nods, giving a thumbs up. Then she expounds, "I hope not, but yes, I can do that if need be. Certainly better than having to hit you every time." <Handspeech>

Verna gives Auranar's hand a light squeeze of ... assurance? Agreement? Gratitude? D) All of the above? "Thank you. My concerns could be unwarranted, yet-" She halts and shakes her head slightly with an exhale. "No, all the more reason to be rid of them."

A nod to Aryia. "Yes, I agree than conversation is preferable to concussion, though the latter has proven effective, in moderation. In any case, I expect that there shall be ample new memories of you both to soon enough fill any void."

Auranar smiles at this and looks from one woman to the other with interest. "Speaking of, would either of you care for a late luncheon? Perhaps a conversation on a topic not quite so dreary?" She lifts a hand and catches a quickly-melting snow flake. "It's a lovely day!"

Aryia thumbs her nose, her nodding in agreement. Yes. Begone with them. So attention and focus can be on more important things, the mute thinks to herself as she looks between the two women. She smiles some, glad to be included in such things.

The notion of lunch makes the pugilist perk up. She rubs her chin, nods, then unravels her verdant jacket off her waist to slip it on. Training's over, it seems.

The invitation prompts a reflexive reflexive; a gurgle of affirmation. While muted by layers of cloth, those present do possess ears of the keen variety. Introspection and worry do consume calories, afterall.

"I would be delighted," Verna verbally accepts a moment later, "as it is a lovely day, with even more delightful company." This further re-affirms the priority of a most wondrous kitchen in the residential hunt. Perhaps two? Even if they might need to sacrifice library space to do so.

Auranar makes an amused noise at Verna's initial response and then nods. "It's a shame we haven't found a house yet." She ponders, her thoughts flickering around the same wave-length as Verna's. "I'd love to finally have a chance to cook for you Aryia. I do hope you'll be our first house-guest once we get a kitchen." She chuckles and starts to lead the little group toward the marketplace. "There's a little elvish bakery in the market that we could try?"

Aryia buckles together her jacket, her seeming quite on board with having something to eat. Especially after working out. Talk of the house makes the mute raise her brows, look towards Verna, then she looks off at the mountains in the distance before raising a brow at the Mourner.

A grin plasters her face, and she gestures a simple, "Yes. That's good," at the notion of a home cooked meal. Though, it's been quite some time since she's had anything of elvish origin or pedigree. <Handspeech>

Verna gives Auranar's hand another squeeze. "I am optimistic that we shall have a suitable home soon, dearest. In the interim, baked goods will suffice." She looks between the two others, ending on Aryia. "I hope you shall visit, as well."

The Mourner then adds, "It would be most appropriate, afterall. Your talented tailoring could have us all dressed as the finest nobles, making Aura more radiant than ever." A gesture to Aryia, then to Auranar."She, in kind, would subsequently lavish upon us feasts fit for queens." Back to Aryia. "We would then be in your debt as you re-fit all of the clothing to us afterwards..."

Auaranr chuckles again, imagining these lavish feasts and enjoying the thought of what things she will (hopefully soon) be able to try out. She falls into a pleasant silence, imagining the home-made goodies that she hopes to make for everyone. She'll need to practice her long out-of-date skills, but that's not an unpleasant thing. "I'm not going to make that much food!" She exclaims with more than some amusement. "But it is tempting to lavish you with good foods. Both of you. I love the art of making something from nothing. Making food is a little bit magic."

The mute pugilist affirms once more that she'd visit in the most simplest of manners: she nods.

Talk of dressing of the finest of nobles and dining like royalty makes the mute weakly smile, but its short lived as she breathily chuckles at the joke. "Sounds like a good trade to me. I'll have to practice my tailoring some, I've been a bit out of practice, and I didn't realize how important it would be on the spot," she signs, knowing full that Auranar couldn't get the whole thing, but left it up to Verna how much she wanted to translate. <Handspeech>

"I did not mean to imply that we would grow overmuch in just one sitting," Verna clarifies rather matter-of-factly, perhaps undoing her own attempted punchline. A gesture to Aryia as she offers a summarized translation, "Aryia looks forward to your magical creations, and shall be honing her own exceptional talents in preparation." A pause to separate that from her own addition before she notes, "I am in most magical and learned company, indeed." Given, she may be biased, but that does not make her incorrect.

"I'm teasing you Verna." Auranar admits easily, squeezing the other woman's hand. "You seemed pensive when we arrived, I'm glad that you're feeling more relaxed now." Enough so to embarrass Auranar with all her complements. She ducks her head momentarily and nods to Aryia in turn. "I'm excited to see what kind of clothes you enjoy making. Do you make your own?" She gestures to Aryia's green jacket and her exercise clothes.

The vested complemented get the mute to rub her neck and look aside with a light grin. The question gets her to perk up and puff her chest out in pride.

She nods with a smirk, holding her arms out and turning around to pose in different ways to show off her attire. The verdant buckle jacket had numerous pouches and pockets, one that holds her ever present journal, specially made for it. Simple black pants. Though, she holds out an arm to Aura, and pinches her fingers on the fabric of the jacket. It makes a sort of... grating sound. And a sharp eye could faintly make out that there's some kind of metal weave in her clothes.

"The jacket's magic, I didn't do that. But I made it all, yes," she supplements with gestures. <Handspeech>

"As am I," Verna notes briefly to Auranar before focusing upon Aryia and the fashion show, as it were. "Yes, she made them all," she offers in translation as a courtesy. "You both have a keen eye for aesthetics." Says the one who wears gray and (for the moment) lives in a basalt box.

Auranar hesitates only a moment before touching Aryia's sleeve, feeling the odd material for herself and perking up slightly. "I wonder if I could wear something like that. It's a lovely jacket, and it's marvelous that it has that metal inside it to protect you." She smiles lightly. "I've often been envious of those that can wear so much armor, I fear I'm not strong enough to carry it myself though, and worse it gets in the way of spell-casting."

The mage is expressive as she talks, moving her free hand as she speaks. "Verna, you've a keen eye for aesthetics too. You wouldn't appreciate the clothes that Aryia makes if not. Besides, gray looks fantastic on you."

Aryia smiles at the compliment. Though, she sort of shrugs, and signs to Auranar to be translated. "It's so the clothes don't tear as much when /I/ get hit. I don't wear armor either. Verna can attest that it's not always need for it, she's seen me without it. Though, that takes..." she scratches at her cheek, along some scar that mars it, "... a lot of effort."

She nods towards the idea of the hues that Verna wears, and she adds, "Cool colors and neutrals work well on us," she motions between the one and a half mul's. <Handspeech>

Verna could possibly offer a counterpoint on aesthetic talents, but why? She leaves it be and simply accepts it as opinion... and she values Auranar's opinion. Aryia's, as well. "I would not object were to find more protective garments that did not inhibit you, Aura. No insult intended to your abilities."

She then offers an abridged translation of Aryia's signs. "The weave is more to protect her clothing than herself. She is far more resilient than it, otherwise. I presume that may have led to some immodest moments. As well, certain shades are more appropriate for us to wear. Based upon complexion, due to context."

She glances from Aryia back to Auranar and considers her a moment. "I wonder if more subdued tones might provide all the more contrast to yours, and certainly your hair?" A daring attempt to validate (or refute?) Auranar's claim? "Not that I would ever dislike your coat, of course." Perhaps Auranar in gray and Verna in scarlet? Then again, this may be why Aryia is the tailor, Auranar the chef, and Verna the Mourner.

Auranar nods in understanding to the bit about Aryia's clothes, though she has to wait for a translation to understand the words. Still, they're getting more practiced at this. Soon enough, Auranar hopes she will know enough of handspeech to get by and this translation business will be less necessary. She's never felt more motivated to learn a language than she does now. The allure of communication with one's friends! "That makes sense, and the weave would make them more durable." She looks a little embarrassed, remembering a conversation with another person that was along a similar vein. "I was told once that dresses are not terribly good for adventuring in, so I've a selection of pants to wear under my skirts these days, but I find that I don't go out adventuring terribly often. I'm not sure it suits me.

The adventuring not the pants.

She tilts her head at the thought that she might look more outstanding in more demure colors and she has to admit that Verna's not entirely wrong there. "You might be right Verna, but I've a fondness for bright, enthusiastic colors and so even if a darker more subdued tone might suit me... I fear that I have little interest in wearing it." She smiles a small secretive smile. "Perhaps we should trade sometime, and see what comes of it."

Aryia blinks at Verna's mention of moments such as that. She colors a bit, then purses her lips while looking off to the side. "I wish there was self-repairing clothes," is all she comments.

The mute nods in agreement about the dresses, looking empathetic about the idea. Seems like she's done that before, and it didn't go well. She gives a little shrug, then gestures, "It didn't' for me, then I had to do it to survive. Most people don't become adventurers because they want to."

She looks between the two. Smirks a bit, then motions, "I don't think you two will have much of a problem combining wardrobes. My girlfriend is human, so no sharing there." <Handspeech>

Verna merely connected the information known and made a reasonable presumption. At Aryia's coloring, she does not further comment on the topic of self-repairing clothing aside from a nod. "One need not spend one's entire existence darting from one request for aid to another," she offers in regards to adventuring, "though there is no fault in doing so for a time and varied reasons."

To Auranar, she, perhaps unsurprisingly, returns a slimmer version of the small smile. "We should do so at least once, to determine the result." Empirical research; the most logical path to knowledge and truth. On that note, she adds, towards Aryia. "You may not be able to wear the same clothing, though you could wear similar items, if you wished. How is she? All is well, I trust?"

Auranar reaches the edge of the gardens and pulls to a stop, her own expression curious as she looks between Verna and the other woman. A slight difficulty in translation when it is forgotten. Still, she manages to parse at least a little bit of what's being said and guesses that Aryia must have a relationship of her own. "Oh! Verna, does she have a girlfriend?" She smiles at the thought, and hopes that her curiosity on the subject will be satisfied.

She gestures to Verna, "She's almost a full foot taller than me, and wider in general. I'd look like a child in their parent's clothes, dragging along the ground wearing them. She's good. All is well."

The mute woman blinks at Auranar, and slowly nods. She signs simply, pointing at the wild elf, then making her closed fits touch each other with a pointer finger extended. "You meet." She makes more gestures: miming robes that go down to her shins, a hand that starts at her own ponytail, but drags it down, down, down near her knees. And a hand reaches up to nearly a head and a quarter taller than herself. "She wears long robes, has a really, really long braid down to here, and she's about this tall. We met in the markets, remember?" <Handspeech>

Verna blinks as Auranar points out her lapse in conveyance of information. "My apologies. Yes, she does. A human woman who wears long robes and keeps her extensive hair in a braid that reaches to her knees. Aryia believes that you encountered her, before, in the markets." This time she keeps her translation quite verbatim. "It seems only proper that they both be our first welcomed houseguests."

Auranar has to think about it for a moment, remembering those that she's met recently. "Oh? Do you mean the woman in the veil? Not the one with the adorable raven." They hadn't talked very much, but she remembers the woman who signed to her. There just weren't that many people who used their hands to communicate to her. "Yes, I'd be happy to have them both over."

Aryia blinks, her signing hands halting for a beat.

...

..."Ah, sh-t," she mutters to herself, shaking her head. Even though the language used was... odd, the gist of it will still understood for those that didn't speak it. <Undercommon>

She weakly smiles, then waves it off, "Sorry, must have gotten it confused. That's not her," she signs, her taking a step out of the sanctuary of the gardens. Her face lacks a touch of color. "Got people mixed up, my bad." <Handspeech>

Verna expected Aryia might color or have similar issue when speaking of her counterpart. The expletive and pause, even lack of color, however... "Is something wrong?" she inquires in the same tongue, now with some concern. She then offers, per Aryia and for Auranar's benefit. "She apologies and misspoke. She had thought you had met her, but had confused your meeting with another to one with her girlfriend."

Auranar has the grace to look embarrassed too, but waves it off. "It's fine! We all forget things sometimes." She motions toward the exit to the gardens. "Come on. Lets get some lunch!" She gives Verna's hand a tug and braves the outside of the gardens. It's cold beyond them, but she's eager to get something to eat, and eager to talk to the other two women in a setting where they can sit down and enjoy themselves.

Aryia glances to Verna, then shakes her head, motioning little o-shaped hands in front of her. "Nothing" she signs, before sighing in relief as Auranar tries to drag Verna away. She strolls after them, relieved. <Handspeech>

GAME: Aryia rolls bluff: (9)+-2: 7

Verna may or may not be consoled by Aryia's dismissal. Regardless, she is readily pulled along by Auranar as she reminds of their intentions. The syl is quite adept at gaining and holding Verna's focus, afterall. It may be colder outside, but she has a warm hand to hold. As well, who would not brave a bit of cold for baked sweets?

-End