Whooooo?
Log Info
- Title: Whooooo?
- Emitter: Ravenstongue
- Characters: Ravenstongue, Ashes, Jinks, Verna
- Place: A06: Lower Alexandrian Gardens District
- Time: Tuesday, January 04, 2022, 8:37 PM
- Summary: Ravenstongue is waiting with her grandfather to meet Ashes. She has a present, a little screech owl from Quelynos, as thanks for painting her Churicuil and establishing communication with her fey grandfather. The Mourner is smitten by the owlette, although her familiars, personal and borrowed, have concerns. The owl, not-yet-named, doesn't seem to recognize her friends as food. This is good. Jinks and Verna arrive, as Ashes falls into describing how she helped kill a Void Dragon and nearly died in a lava explosion. Jinks tells how he won a boat in a gambling match, and is considering giving it as a gift. He also realizes he has forgotten a date. He is questioned regarding his habits, and things get a little awkward.
-=--=--=--=--=--<* A06: Lower Alexandrian Gardens District *>=--=--=--=--=--=-
The city is divided, unofficially, into Upper Alexandria and Lower Alexandria. The Upper resides further up on the slope of the mountain, and rests to the east of the great river. The Lower resides to the west of it, and if the Lower could be said to have a heart, this verdant park might be its center.
Amid all the bustle of the Lower City, its Gardens District provides a peaceful respite. The warmth of Althea holds sway here, and though Daeus receives the occasional nod, this is clearly Her domain. She shares it with Dana, in the verdant green of this area. Vines and trees, remain green no matter the season and numerous flowers bloom along the park's walkways. Faerie-light lanterns hang from branches and along hedgerows.
A number of shops may be found here, most notably the city hospital, for which the park was originally built. Though now open to the public, the gardens by and large, remain underneath the hospital's care. However, in the Althean tradition, much of the work is provided by volunteers.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Ravenstongue 5'0" 99 Lb Half-Elf Female Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair. Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face. Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. Verna 4'5" 98 Lb Half-Elf Female Petite humanoid in bulky gray robes and cloak. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
No moon, no stars, almost no wind. These circumstances feel strange, to say the least, but they seem to suit Ravenstongue and her two friends just fine as they sit on a bench in the lower gardens... As well as one additional guest. An owl sits in Ravenstongue's lap, looking around at the surroundings by turning its head all the way from the left to all the way to the right.
"Do you think she'll like him?" Ravenstongue asks of the dark-feathered raven on her shoulder with violet eyes. "He's..."
"Young, yes, but that's important. It means he has not yet grown too attached to Quelynos," the dark-feathered raven says, his voice deep and melodious... And of course, very familiar. "He will be able to adjust to his surroundings and to her."
"Whooooo?" the owl seems to ask, blinking his golden eyes. It's a strange warbling cry.
It's really weird to hear late at night.
A large grey form drifts along the path through the gardens. Silent, passing like a ghost, the hobgoblin that seems entirely painted in grey tones approaches the bench. She is at the best of times, a little startling, with goblinoid proportions and what seems to be stylized bones covering her entire body, and head. She has a skull on her face, that's stark white, and almost visible in the dark.
She's not the one that knocks, or goes bump in the night. She's very quiet, and arrives as a sudden presence that makes one think of a graveyard.
"Ashleeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," She warbles a response.
Ravenstongue brightens to see Ashlee approaching, waving to the hobgoblin as she comes into view. "Hey there! I have a feathered friend for you."
The dark-feathered raven quirks his head as he looks at Ashlee. "Ahhh. The Harpist's servant, welcome." The voice is very much familiar--it's unmistakably that of the tall fey man that Ashlee had seen in the woods from weeks ago. It appears he's chosen a somewhat stealthier mode for traveling within the city. "This is one of my birds--a Quelynos screech owl, just barely a year old."
"Whoooooooo," the Quelynos screech owl responds, so small in Ravenstongue's lap. His golden eyes get larger as he takes in Ashlee. It's a strange look, as it's hard to ascribe any humanoid emotions to it, but one gets a sense of curiosity from those eyes anyway.
"Hello," Ashlee says, standing in front of Ravenstongue, answering both her and the dark raven. She nods, awkwardly, and is uncertain if she should sit or remain standing. She adjusts the grip on her satchel and moves in to take a place on the bench beside the sorcereess.
Her eyes haven't left the screech owl, although she shows no other changes in expression. Her voice remains an unexpressive monotone, but she replies, "Ashleeeeeeeee."
"He's beautiful." She adds, deciding to stare directly at Ravenstongue, so she'll know she has all of the arvek's attention. After which, she stares at the little owl in her lap. She taps at her satchel, then opens the main leather flap and rests it beside her on the seat.
"Would you like to hold him?" Ravenstongue offers. She scoops up the owl--which shows off his little leggies in the process, hidden normally under the fluff--and holds him up to Ashlee. The bird is surprisingly calm about being held like this, looking up at Ashlee with those deep golden eyes.
"Whoooooo," the owl says, blinking his eyes slowly. It appears he is comfortable enough in Ashlee's presence to close his eyes. Ashlee is transfixed by the golden eyes. Hers are a dark brown, with the reflective pupils that resemble a cat and hint at her excellent night-sight. The skull marking and her dark eye-sockets make them larger, hard to miss. A good match for a staring contest with a little owl. She nods, holding one hand close to Ravenstongue's lap.
"Chippen has some concerns." She says, as she does this. A rather large house centipede snaking his way out of her satchel to occupy the hobgoblin's lap.
The owl is handed off into Ashlee's hand. He's small enough to fit in just the one hand despite being described as a fully-grown owl. His focus turns from Ashlee's eyes to the house centipede in her lap. "Whooooo?" he asks, rather politely. It was just as Ashlee hoped--the creature could potentially do the laborious task of asking for one's name for her.
Ravenstongue giggles. "That's Chippen! He's one of Ashlee's friends, little guy," she says. "You're joining a little menagerie."
"Whoooooo?" the owl asks again, before preening his feathers.
The ashen arvec nods, then brings the owl up to rub her nose against his beak. She sets her free hand in her lap, picking up her centipede. She holds them apart, but where they can see each other.
The centipede is staring at Ashes also, with an unusual intensity for a bug. "Chippen is my familiar." The Mourner explains, "he likes lying in graves with me, and teaches me spells."
"I've got another familiar." She says, rocking her thigh against her bag. A white lizard tentatively emerges, looking up. "This is Carbuncle. He is the familiar for a wizard who was trying to bring a vampire into existence. I'm watching Carbuncle for him."
Her blouse ruffles, and bump moves up her chest to emerge at the collar of her shirt. A doormouse. "This is Minnie. I rescued her when we went to a town that was taken over by brain mold."
It's the most speaking she's done in a while, and it is all muted and devoid of emotion.
The owl accepts the lift to rub against Ashlee's nose. He reciprocates for a moment before he looks at the other animals--Chippen, then Carbuncle, and then Minnie. His golden eyes take all of them in as he responds without a sound, quiet as the grave.
Ravenstongue seems a little nervous when the doormouse appears, looking at the owl to see if his prey instinct kicks in, but the owl seems to recognize that Minnie is not for eating. "Phew, he seems to recognize they're all friends, not food," she says.
"Quelynos screech owls have different expectations of food," the dark-feathered raven replies. "My birds in particular enjoy eating miniature fey, as I find them rather troublesome and I prefer my solitude."
There's a very short, almost laugh, from Ashes. A brief, soundless exhale, and the skull that obscures her face is almost smiling. She has a happy little bee, painting on in makeup on one cheek bone, and a dotted flight path that includes a loop and heads back to her large, fuzzy ears.
"I will have a hard time finding Fey for him to eat." Ashlee says, bobbing her head, "Chippen was worried they wouldn't be friends."
Chippen has yet to put on his big boy bug pants, and skitters in a circle on the hobgoblin's palm before moving up to her wrist. A little closer. She moves them both closer, giving the little screech owl a stare and a nuzzle.
Minnie immediately zips back down into her shirt, to hide.
Ashes looks up, directly at Ravenstongue and the dark-feathered raven. "I've done dangerous things. I almost died in a lava explosion." She's concerned she can keep them safe, all of them, including the little owl.
"Lava explosion?" both Ravenstongue and Grandfather ask at the same time, which results in a little chuckle from them both afterward.
"He will eat anything you offer him," Grandfather elaborates. "I wouldn't expect him to be able to hunt on his own for food for a while until he gets used to the mortal realm."
Indeed, the owl seems not to know what to do as Chippen moves closer to him. But he makes a soft content noise as he's nuzzled by Ashlee. The little owl doesn't need much, it'd seem, to begin to bond with someone.
Looking smart and a bit thicker for stacked layers, Jinks hums his way in from the south. His hair is down and it's getting long enough to almost brush the shoulders of his fine coat. His lips are red to match his circlet and a wide necklace of copper-red gold filigree set with several onyx crawls up out of his shirt.
The gnome grins for all the world like the cat that ate the canary and he busies his bejeweled fingers with a Golem deck. Spread, bending, bridging and shuffling the cards as he goes. The rapid, percussive chorus joining it with his hummed melody.
Verna may not be stationed at the Soldier's Defense any longer, but that does not mean she cannot check in now and again. She emerges from the hospital, adjusting her cloakhood against the chill.
The ashen arvec nods slowly, bringing the owl close to her cheek and nuzzling her head softly against him. Chippen takes this opportunity to run up her sleeve, her hair, and then out across onto her other cheek where he advances to her nose, half crawls over it, and wiggles antenae at the screech owl.
Who needs a name. Maybe Chippen is thinking of one. Ashlee continues her story, "We killed a void dragon. It was controlling ghasts to mine adamantine to make a golem. Silmeria used chains of light to drag it into the molten lava."
She pauses, rubs at her chin, then continues in her monotone, "that caused an eruption. We couldn't get out of the mine fast enough."
Ravenstongue maintains a pleasant enough expression at seeing the house centipede crawl on Ashlee's face, but the slight twitch of the mouth suggests a tiny amount of horror at the sight, as adorable as Chippen can be otherwise. "A void dragon? That's... absolutely terrifying. I'm surprised you lived to tell the tale," Ravenstongue says, her focus shifting back to the story at hand.
The owl returns the nuzzle against Ashlee's head, making more happy owl noises. But he opens one golden eye to look at Chippen. "Whoooooo?" he says, the strange warble always sounding like a question. Friend or foe, perhaps?
Jinks shakes his head in amusement, lifting the stacked cards to give them a little peck before producing a little satin ribbon from thin air. Around and across he ties them, pausing momentarily in his walking to knot the fabric in a bow and slide the deck away.
"Who feels like celebrating?" Calls the gnome before he's even close enough to sort out the small gathering of trainers and myriad small, borderline (or not-so-borderline) supernatural critters. He turns as he walks, pivoting on a heel to consider those brave enough to be out in the world so late with Goddess Dreaming tucked away and out of sight.
"Aaah, ladies," he raises a hand in a waved greeting and approaches to consider the menagerie.
"... and grandfather?" He adds at the last moment. Trying to remember which bird is the fae aspect and which is the familiar.
Verna looks over to the tale of Void Dragons, recognizing the arvek's monotone anywhere. "That is quite the accomplishment, Mourner Ashlee. It is fortunate and pleasant that you were able to escape subsequent eruptions." Her hood dips to Ravenstongue and then pans to the mention of celebration. Which is not so difficult as Jinks approaches the others.
"That's Chippen," Ashlee introduces her familiar to her owl. Chippen is silent, at best bugs make hissing noises and he is a polite gentleman. He looks at the mourner and there is a sense of silent communication. She noses at the owl, "He thinks you're terrifying."
Ashlee looks at Ravenstongue and the dark-feathered raven, "I touched the Void Dragon. I felt his connection back to Heth. His hatred for everything living. He wanted to destroy me. All of us."
Ashlee gazes at Verna, "I'm surprised I lived. The burns were very bad. Silmeria carried me out." Then she turns to look at Jinks, "What are we celebrating?"
"It is I, yes, good Jinks," the dark-feathered raven says from atop Ravenstongue's shoulder. His violet eyes seem to dance with mirth in what little light there is in the late evening. Meanwhile, Pothy has been a very good boy this whole time, sitting rather silently on Ravenstongue's shoulder--oh. He's sleeping. That's why.
The owl stares at Chippen for a moment. He can't help his creepy nature. Owls are simply beings that stare long into the soul, and this includes special Quelynos screech owls. "Whoooooo?" the owl says again, a slight sad note to his strange call, as though he is a little sad to be feared.
Ravenstongue waves to both Jinks and Verna, smiling. "Good evening!" she says to them both. "I'm giving Ashlee a present for helping me."
"/We/ are," Grandfather raven says, a chuckle in his voice. "We both owe her a debt."
"Take your pick!" Jinks suggests, extending his hand in a gesture of prompt for the Mour'Nar. "It sounds as if your stables grow with a new friend. It would also seem we're both dragonslayers. And..."
The gnome grins and pulls a folded paper from his sleeve. A previously-waxsealed ribbon dangles as he waves it and issues a sing-song "I. Own. A. Boat." A quick little shake and he's stuffing the deed back save into his sleeve. "Unless the idiot captain decides to pay the pot back in coin; which would also be fine."
A tilt of the head 'hello' to grandfather, Raven, and Verna before the triumphant bard considers Ashes. "Plenty of things to be excited about, Mourner Ashlee Ciardadh, Slayer of Dragons."
"Your victory and survival are valid reasons for celebration," Verna notes before gesturing to the menagerie. "Or to friends, old and ... new" she adds, looking between them as Jinks fills in some helpful information.
Ashlee nods to the observation. She has a little screech owl now. "Thank you," she tells Ravenstongue, and her 'grandfather', "I was happy to help. I'll think of a good name and take care of him"
"Can you fish from it?" She asks Jinks. The question might be, 'do you have fishing poles', it's possible to fish from just about anywhere that there's wild water. She shakes her head slightly at the title, "I didn't help much."
She also nods to Verna, "It was a while ago, not recently. Lysos, Zaxx and Edinaz went too."
"And Baz."
"A boat?" Ravenstongue asks, intrigued. "How'd you manage to get a boat?"
"I imagine he... paid for it, little one," Grandfather raven replies. "Or however mortals barter for things. I don't fully understand it and I don't think I ever shall."
The screech owl continues to nuzzle against Ashlee. He has no conception of dragons; he's likely never even seen a dragon where he's from. What he does seem to understand is that the hobgoblin lady seems to like him very much, and he is reciprocating that affection. Golden eyes close slowly as he finally looks comfortable enough to keep them closed.
Verna lets out a brief "Ah" at Ashlee's revelation concerning timing and her lips purse even as she nods. There was a rather significant span of time between their interactions. "Gambling," she comments in segue to Jinks and his newly acquired watercraft. "I trust that the captain was better at his profession than past-times, else your prize may already lie at the bottom of the sea."
"Ah, yes, the Tsura and yrchblood were on our little adventure into Hextus." Jinks observes, familiar with at least half Ashlee's companions in that battle. "And, truly, my dragon wasn't a true dragon-- a wyvern, in fact-- and its sting nearly made me a client of yours," he glances from Ashlee to Verna and back again. "... but I don't focus on those details when I'm impressing someone out of their trousers."
The gnome touches his nose with one hand and points at Verna with the other when she offers gambling as an explanation. "Coyote and the Sly Ones' gift to me; a heart for the cards." He frowns when Verna suggests his boat may not be in the best shape... he really hadn't considered that.
"Mine is not a luck so wrotten," he decides with a shake of his head. He thinks again of Lysos, though, and smiles faintly. "I suppose you could fish. With poles or nets or those little boxy trap devices. OR--" the gnome's black eyes go wide and sparkle at the endless possibilities-- "we could do something properly fun."
A pause.
"If the captain does see fit to pay the pot out in gold. The writ for ownership of his vessel is technically in my possession purely as collateral."
Leaning back on his heels he stares up at the sky. "Behind the amulet with a House of Stone. Coyote laughs..."
Ashlee pulls back the hair on one side of her head and moves the screech owl so he can sit on her shoulder. She rolls the cloth of her shirt and tucks it under her talons so he had something to grip. She lets her hair canopy over him, like a hood or a hole in a tree trunk. He's at the edge of her jaw and will be able to peer out when he opens his eyes again.
Chippen moves down her face and encircles Ashlee's neck, like a segmented choker. He tucks his leg and head in, and if it weren't for watching him move, he could be mistaken for the jewelry he emulates.
Carbuncle has vanished back into her bag.
"Something fun." The Mourner agrees.
Verna looks at the other Mourner, "Thank you for allowing me, but I should go."
She leaves.
Sighing wistfully, Jinks finds a seat on the bench. The gnome shakes out his hands in an attempt to mellow and glances at the animals that remain in sight. "Have to break up the monotony," he agrees with a grin.
"I didn't even have this game planned. Just heard about it happening at the Ox." There's a little pause and the gnome frowns, leaning back and looking down and away with his eyes. He squints, clearly trying to think of or remember something. "I was supposed to be somewhere tonight..."
He does look a little too dressed up for a card game at the Ox come to think of it.
"Braelnoir goes to the Ox." Ashlee says, and it sounds like she doesn't. She examines Jinks' clothing, and his apparent confusion and memory loss. "I can check you for spells." She suggests.
Carbuncle, the white lizard, emerges from her satchel again. The Mourner picks him up and holds him to the ear opposite her owl. He bites and clamps on. He's an earring now.
"She can help if your boat is sunk." There's a moment of thoughtful silence, "it's not important if you've forgotten it," She suggests.
Jinks remembers and grimaces, raising one ring-heavy hand to cover his face. "We had a date... Mulria's sideway smiles, I just meant to play a few hands." A heavy sigh and he leans forward again, looking past Ashlee and Cor'lana to consider the facade of the Defense. "... I am such a bastard.
"... how do you think a boat ranks as an apology gift?" The bard wonders, already contemplating scenarios. "Keep in mind you're a sailor that volunteers too much of your spare time being a good Person at a hospital... and how other people are feeling matters more to you than jewels and gold."
"Fuuuuuuu..." sighs the gnome at length.
"I mean, a boat would probably be a fun gift no matter who you are, I think. You get to go out and see more of the world, right?" Ravenstongue asks. She pauses for a moment as she taps her chin in thought. "But then again, you have to know how to sail to enjoy a boat, right? Then it might not be such a good gift."
She squints at Jinks. "Do /you/ even know how to sail?" she asks finally.
Ashlee also volunteers at the Soldier's Defense, although her beside manner is somewhat legendary and she's often asked not to. She blinks, looking sideways down her cheek at her owl.
"A boat sounds nice," she tells Jinks, then looks at the Dark Feathered Bird, "You can't see out of his eyes? I let my friends under my clothes."
Where hobgoblins are freakishly ugly.
Jinks takes his face in both hands and groans, rubbing down and collecting his thoughts. "He works the docks and he's been a shiphand. I don't know if he can sail..."
A shake of the head. "I'm from Clockwork Point. I'm a trained airshipman. The only boats we had that went in water were massive steam- and mana-powered icebreakers. Sailing is... impractical that far north."
An idea. "How much would I have to pay one of you to confirm that I was called away on a city-saving emergency?" There's a smirk and it's clear he's (at least) half joking.
"I just collected this today, too," he gestures at his intricate neck jewelry. "And I'm wearing my nice... jacket."
"Did you get both of those from gambling too?" Ravenstongue asks, so quickly that even Grandfather shifts on her shoulder and hides his beak with a wing.
"Cor'lana! Little one, goodness me," he murmurs, shaking his head. There's some mirth in there. But he addresses Ashlee's inquiry, turning to the hobgoblin to do so. "No, he's not one of my messengers, so I cannot see through his eyes without casting a spell--and I don't believe I will ever have a reason to do so, so your privacy is assured."
"What? It's a fair question," Ravenstongue says, rolling her eyes.
"People don't ask me things," Ashlee says, which is true and also unfortunate, as she knows things. This also implies she's not good at lying, should the need arise. Staring is more her thing, staring things to death.
She stares at Jinks to discomfort. She's struck by a thought. Her hand sneaks into her satchel and brings out a grey and black pamphlet with the symbol of Vardama.
It's her well worn, 'how to act like a normal person' missive. It's been through a lot too, parts of it look singed. She unfold and reads down, to the 'between two people'.
"You could try saying sorry," she suggests, in monotone and immediately doubts the advice. Isn't an apology an admission of weakness; hobgoblins avoid looking weak. "It's a nice jacket"
Yes, 'complement their clothing', that seems far more situationally appropriate.
She also nods to the dark-feathered raven, "Thanks Grandfather."
"... maybe he'd like a bird." Jinks wonders, looking between at the attempted murder. He sighs and shrugs.
"No. The jacket is a recreation of an old favorite I lost during my intermission. It's an Isobari style I've grown very fond of even if this specific article doesn't hold the same sentimental value."
His fingers come up and touch the delicate jewelry around his neck, tapping a manicured nail against one of the set stones. "And this is a commission meant to go with my enchanted circlet. Elsie and Madze just finished it for me yesterday and I was so excited to show it off..."
There's a grin in spite of himself at Ashlee's attempt. "I will say 'I'm sorry' but with care that I say it not too much lest it lose all meaning. Flowers, sweets, a song... a whole concert, perhaps." He grins and shrugs, "And a boat if it comes to that."
"Your outfit is very nice, too, mourner." He offers. As long as they're exchanging compliments.
It only gets more awkward.
The Screech Owl
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Owl looks like an eastern screech owl (gray morph) with very golden eyes. Kinda like this little fella.
https://i.imgur.com/wfFVdlS.png
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "This is the call the little one is making. :)"
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MDBZmn0DsQ"
