Shadows and Sunlight

Log Info

• Title: Shadows and Sunlight
• Emitter: Ashes
• Characters: Ashes, Zant
• Place: A07: Fernwood Pub
• Time: Saturday, May 02, 2020, 10:35 PM
• Summary: Ashlee comes to the Fernwood to sit and lurk. Zant notices the arvec nar as she arrives and decides to join her. Fortunes seem to be her thing, so she gives Zant a reading. In reponse to his question, "will I get in trouble today", her answer is maybe. He'll have trouble if he goes looking for it. Otherwise, his relationships are fine, his internal state is fine, but he knows people who need his stability. He's left wondering who this might be and Ash doesn't elaborate further. They talk a little more and she has to return to the catacombs.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.

The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Ashes        5'11"    177 Lb     Hobgoblin         Female    A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face
Zant         6'0"     190 Lb     Human             Male      Olive-skinned, wild-haired young man in simple clothes
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A hobgoblin woman enters and gazes around the room, looking over the darkened niches under the balcony for an empty table. She's tall, for an arvec and overall grey with a white skull on her face. The skull imagery seems to be part tattoo, part makeup and piercings. Her clothes are shabby, as if they started out black and aged to a lighter colour. She passes by the bar and orders something, then moves to a place in the shadows and waits, watching the room.

Inside the Pub is already another figure that might draw a bit of attention by their presence. This would be Zant-- not just because of the dual brilliantly-colored scarves he wears loosely around his neck and over his shoulders, but also because the faint-but-noticable glow and radiation of warmth about him. He's sat on one of the stools lining the bar counter, with a cup of tea in one hand, and an assortment of papers in the other. The soudn of the door opening and closing draws his eye briefly enough, first, to peek at the traffic there-- and then turn his head over to direct his gaze more fully towards the hobbo, taking her countenance in curiously.

The hobgoblin has an expression partway between a frown and none; they aren't known for smiling and their heavy bottom jaw and small tusks make neutral expressions look like a scowl. The skull adds to this effect. Her eyes are lively, moving in the dark shaded sockets, looking around. She meets Zant's gaze, holds it, stares as she passes him at the bar. She smells like damp earth and ashes. Once she's seated at her table in the shadows she gazes around the pub once more and Zant becomes the most interesting thing for her to stare at. She watches him, waiting for her food, and takes out a small deck of cards from her satchel.

Shared looks of curiousity inevitably do lead to one thing. At least, so they do with Zant. And thus it is, then, that the olive-skinned human rises up from his stool, tucking the papers under one armpit while his hands take teacup and jug both, to carry along with him-- on the way towards the skull-adorned hobgoblin.

"Do you like tea?" He asks once he's stepped up right to her chosen table, without any hesitation, and with a bright, warm smile offered in tandem with the words. "The tender's given me much more than I can drink in one evening, and it'd be a shame to let it go to waste, you know?"

"I enjoy tea." She watched him approach, seat himself. No smile in return to the warm smile. She moves her cards to her side of the table so there's room for the jug to be placed down, waves at a seat. She has an aura of quiet stillness, a chill, like being inside a stone sepulcher that envelopes the whole table and makes it seem apart from the rest of the inn. "You have bright scarves. Is there a significance to them?"

"Good, good," Zant murmurs with several brisk nods of his head. Before he sits himelf down, he flags a waitress with a request of, "Another cup, please?" for the hobgoblin's benefit. For whatever it's worth, he does make a point of trying to take as little space as possible-- the papers he sets down in front of him really being the most, while the jug gets set more in the center for the sake of easy reach for everyone involved. "Oh, these?" A hand goes to lift the golden one of the two scarves up a bit, before flipping it back over his shoulder. "I got them from the man who raised me. Besides that, I just like them. And I can never decide which one to wear, so I just wear both." That's... logic of some sort, at least? The whole time he talks, there's the ever-present sense of warmth, too-- brightness, with the continuing idle smile of the man. "Oh..." Eyes sweep to the cards. "Those aren't playing cards, I'm guessing?"

The hobgoblin nods, listening to the explanation about the scarves, staring at the them the whole time they're being discussed. When the topic turns to her deck, she stands two cards in a tent, two more beside the first two, then another across the top, "I play with them every day but they're not for games. That's a different deck."

Her hair is a dark, wet charcoal sort of grey with lighter highlights and wavy strands that clump together. They aren't tangled but there's a certain mop-like thickness to it, and the simple long style surrounds her head like a hood. She takes a card and flips it over, it has a bunch of circles. Her voice is pretty even in tone, little inflection, no indications of emotion or excitement. "I use them to get a sense of things. That's all. Your scarves are pretty. Do you want some predictions?"

A waitress brings over a fresh cup for Zant, but he's quick to wave gesture to the hobgoblin instead; "Oh, it's for her." He leans over the table a bit there, to get better look at the card she's flipped over, head tilting slightly sidewards. "Mmm. Reading Cards, then, yes? I kind of figured." There's another instinctive tug at one of his scarves at her mention of them, and then he nods. "I'd like that, I think."

"They work best if you shuffle them." She says, pushing the cards into a pile then sliding them across. There's a war of aura's going on, cool on her side, warmer on the human's. The deck emerges like it's leaving a cave. Then the cup is withdrawn to her side, a trade, an offering. She nods at the server and fills it with tea herself. "My name is Ashlee Ciaradh, I prefer Ash. You are Zant."

Ash raises her cup, sipping tea. There are stylized bones on the backs of her fingers, like cartoon anatomy. In the shadows, squinting, she gives the impression of a skeleton although her skin is quite visible for normal observation. She continues speaking in a monotone, questions barely inflected. "Any particular thing you're curious about? I can already tell you that you are going to meet a tall, dark stranger."

"Well, now I am curious about *that*," Zant points out rather quickly, even while he's curiously watching the hobbo's movements, and taking count of all those markings of bone and ink over her hands. "What's this tall, dark stranger going to do?"

"She listens," Ash replies, watching Zant, her eyes moving in their dark sockets, "that's about all."

The arvec sits very straight, as if she's at military at-ease while in a chair, her knees together, feet flat, arms close to her sides. She has a satchel on the floor, resting against the table leg. It's where her deck of cards came from. It seems like it might contain other things. "You should think about your question while you shuffle."

"So she does," Zant agrees easily enough with a little laugh, while his hand finally reaches over for the deck of cards. He's not practiced in card-shuffling, so the effort is a rather slow one, really.

"You know how I can tell you're good? You didn't ask abotu my family name even though you didn't speak it, Ash." The smile still persists, and even more so when he peers up from the shuffling of the cards to the Arvek herself. "Most people trip on that. I have to explain I don't *have* a family name."

After a moment, the deck is slid back over across the table to her, and he props his elbows on the table, and his chin on the knuckles of his interlaced hands. "Do I find trouble today?"

"My last name is not a family name. It's a descriptor." Ash says, taking the deck back. She flips the top card over and lays it down, making a small snort as she does. The card shows four chalices, arranged in a plus shape, rotated. "Your answer is maybe. This card means boredom, discontent with your situation, that the excitement in your area of interest has fizzled out."

She looks up from the card, staring impassively across at the friendly human face, "I think you're only going to find trouble if you actively work at it. It will not find you."

"Welll... The life of a diplomat and arbitrer is only *occasionally* exciting to begin with," Zant confesses. "For me it's mostly overseeing negotiations and making sure people play nice, that sort of thing... At least that suggests no disgruntled noble is going to send an assassin or anything like that after me, right?"

"Not any time soon." Ashlee answers. Laying out three more cards in a line, flipping them over. Again in a monotone voice she asks, "Are you sure you suffled these?"

The cards seem to be more chalices, one, two and a three. She waves her hand over them, the skeletal markings on her making it seem like a death's gesture.

"These are about relationships, that your external ones are fine, your relationship with yourself is fine, and that there's a group which needs your stability. People you already know."

She takes another sip of her tea, watching the cards as if they might change or move, then looks across at Zant.

"Huh? To the best of my ability, anyhow..." Zant assures her with a measure of confusion in his tone.

He quiets himself while she spreads the cards out and explains their meaning. The explanation doesn't really do much for his confusion, though. "I... don't understand," he admits after a moment of staring at the cards. "I'm not sure who that oculd be referring to."

"It will become clearer later. The cards don't come with indexed explanations." The hobgoblin explains. Her words almost have an emotion, but still come out flat. "Perhaps if you go looking for trouble."

Ashlee is waiting, observing. The fortune telling might be over, or paused. She pours herself some more tea, remains lurking in the shadows. Finally, she asks, "What was your most recent negotiation?"

"...I don't usually go looking for trouble, I prefer to try to... prevent or fix it, instead," Zant murmurs with a briefly-quieter tone, glancing aside for a split second out of some self-conscious spark.

At Ashlee's question, though, his gaze's focus returns on her again, and he gives a bit of a dismissive wave. "Nothing at all interesting, I promise you. Negotiations on terms of employment between miners and a noble who owned the land."

The hobgoblin nods, setting her teacup down. "We can't all do interesting things. I prepare bodies for viewing and internment." It's hard to tell from her tone whether she considers that an interesting thing to be doing. It seems like something she might enjoy. She collects the cards, putting them back in the deck.

"Hopefully they'll stay happy with the results. I don't have any more answers for you. You are fine, your immediate future is fine. How you act will set your course but nothing is moving towards you."

She stands and moves around the table, "Thanks for the tea. I have to go now." With that said, the ashen arvec leaves the Fernwood.