Throw a Blanket over It

Log Info

• Title: Throw a Blanket over It
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Verna, Acedia, Jinks
• Place: Temple of Eluna
• Time: January 10th, 2022
• Summary: Another gathering at the Temple of Eluna. Acedia is playing music once more, Jinks was visiting, Verna conducting some light reading, and Aryia arriving with a stack of blankets. They share some developments about foreign memories as well as the event that took part in the library. Aryia offers some meditation advice, passing out blankets to sit on (or wrap up in) to conduct it. It goes... decent. Jinks is unable to keep still, Verna picks up on it, and Acedia falls asleep. Oh well!

Temple of Eluna, Late Morning

Finally, a fair weather day. Still it was chilly, and the sun dazzles in reflection across the snow that hits the ground outside. Perhaps, for one day, the outer calm could be reflected in the inner sanctum.

A scarred mul'neissa strides in, her pausing to gaze upon the reflection pool with a soft expression before she shakes her head and starts looking for people she knows.

The mute pulls out blankets from her bag as she goes.

Verna's current guest accomodations are not so different from what she is accustomed to: white marble rather than black basalt; brightly lit as opposed to dim and somber; spacious chambers versus small, efficient vaults; all living occupants instead of ... Well, they are both temples, so there is that much in common.

The Mourner is seated on one of the benches in the courtyard, book in hand for some light reading. Quite light for her, given that the book is only a dozen or so inches square, rather than a dozen inches in thickness. Her hood is doffed, allowing for some sun to actually reach her features. Fortunately, it is unlikely that she will burn.

As before, a faint music fills the place. This time it is more subtle, softer, slower, and easy to miss in the background if one is conversing at even a normal conversational tone. And also, as before, the epicenter of the violin music wanders the temple slowly.

Jinks buttons his coat as he exits a side hall. He's in green today, verdant and out of season, with thin matte-bronze trim and elaborate brass fasteners. His accessories tend towards the golden and emerald-set to make his attire, going so far as to wrap his usually-crimson circlet in an illusion to keep the theme.

A shawl is folded and draped over one arm only to be opened and donned when he enters the central room. He pauses at the reflecting pool to check the outward state of himself (clearly its intended purpose) and then moves past to join familiar faces after he's happy with the drape of his accessory.

"Coyote laughs," he offers, stifling a yawn at the end there as one eye squints.

Aryia slows a moment to hear the faint song, one ear twitching twice as she looks around to try and spy its source once more, already having half an idea of who it was this time around. She pulls free another blanket.

The mute stops before Verna, now joined with Jinks, and she glances to the two with a tilt of her head. "Morning," she manages to flash under the bundle of cloth. "You've been coming here for something, Jinks?" It was an observation. Not much gets by her as of late.

The shadow elf addresses both of them, slinging the blankets over an arm to expand her diction. "How's your face?" she asks of Verna, her sloughing off the blankets and setting them about on the ground. <Handspeech>

The music continues to close upon the reflecting pool, accompanied by the soft thump of some invisible drum, and presently a few soaring balls of light begin to whiz about above the surface of the reflecting pool. Which causes colourful light to be bounced off of so, so many shiny surfaces in the central, open room.

Still no sign of the musician, though.

Verna is aware of the lilting, mobile music, though listening does not preclude her reading. After two familiar forms approach and greet, she marks her page, closes her book, and lifts her attention to Jinks and Aryia. "Good day to you both. I am healing well, thank you." Indeed, she is, as the dark bruising about both eyes has now turned that delightful combination of green and yellow. It is proof that all is nearly healed, though it may appear worse to laypersons.

"Lady Serene had offered to reminisce on Alexandria-past and catch me up on the adventures of her former squire when I last saw her." Jinks explains for Aryia, indulging in a bit of name-dropping. "... but she was called away to some other task yesterday and today I was seeking a cure for my head and avoiding Coyote's house for fear of encountering our fellow there."

"It also seems one of the seers knew Faelar Syljyre in life and her operatic tragedies are among the best of the Llyranesi's." His enthusiasm bubbles a bit here. "So we had a fun little history lesson and gossip session; it was quite the treat."

The gnome looks away from the side hall he'd left and gives a little shrug. He's enjoyed his busy little morning and has succcessfully ducked the paladina-- so far. "Were you and the Silver Guard at work much longer, yesterday?" He wonders of Verna, turning the conversation on a half-copper.

Aryia sighs slightly in relief as the bruises become more gnarly. That means it's healing!

She watches the display above the reflection pool a moment overlong with a soft smile before shifting some to watch it and the others.

Listening to Jinks, Aryia bobs her head as the blanket is laid out on the ground, and she sits crosslegged atop it. "Sounds like you're enjoying yourself," she comments with a hand before stacking up the blankets beside her.

She looks between the two, recalling Jinks' harried self naught long before, and the distinctive crack of bone against a forcefield. Things have been a bit fraying as of late.

A breath In. Her attention is drawn by Jinks' question. Perhaps this might be an important aspect to soothe the fray. <Handspeech>

Verna's lips purse at Jinks' segue of inquiry. "We conducted no further research at the library. Rather, we returned to the temple, here, to safeguard and copy the material. As well, an intentional attempt was made to access the memories, in a controlled environment, to learn more. We were not successful."

"There is now more urgency to uncovering the necessary details. One agent attempted to halt us at the library. I consider it certain that such was not the last, and the next may be ever more dangerous."

The Gobbo makes her appearance at last, and circles the reflection pool. The four lights begin to follow in her wake, matching her speed.

The music picks up speed, as does Acedia, dancing her way about the pool.

Jinks shifts on his feet as the music draws nearer, offering a distracted grin as he visibly resists the urge to quit the conversation. He closes his eyes for a brief moment to focus, though, and nods his head when the mourner answers. "There could certainly be more of the simulacra," agrees the gnome, frowning mildly at that idea, "and likely worse."

There's a heavy sigh and he takes a moment to push a ring around his pinky with his thumb in thought. "I had a few guesses... but they're just that. And I might be seeing threads that don't exist simply because of their proximity of other stories playing out."

The gnome could use a drink but settles for smiling at Aryia. "Oh, always. If you've never heard the aria from Triswenys' Boughs I'd be happy to sing it for you sometime. I just need to practice first... quite a bit. And you'd need to be in the mood to cry." His grin quirks up a little more. "It truly is an amazing piece."

Aryia glances to Verna, a light sigh leaving her. To that topic, she just offers a simple, "I'm filled in on the events."

She leaves it at that. The signing hand does shift some to spy the familiar gobbo, another wave afforded to her once more for her muse.

The mute tilts her head at Jinks. "I... don't think I've ever heard of that. If, uh, you're willing, I'd listen. That's kind of you to offer." She lightly smiles.

Speaking of offers...

She looks to her little setup of blankets, then glances to everyone else. Things are tense. Worried. Tumultuous thoughts rolling and worries flaring. The inward flow needed to be stemmed.

"Would..." fidget. "... anyone like to... uh..." fidget, fidget. Awkward Aryia mumbles. "... meditate with me?" <Handspeech>

Verna acknowledges Aryia's admission with a nod as well as a lingering look of some concern, yet also empathy. The gnome's offer, as it is, even with Aryia's interest, prompts a headshake from Verna. "There is no need for a melancholy performance; if there is to be music, it should be far more ... upbeat. Rousing, even." Her eyes shift to the circling gobber.

"Not now, no," Jinks assures Verna with that same smile. "And I know my share of jubilant songs. I just rather enjoy the tragedies, too, when the mood takes me." He can't help but be amused at what he perceives as irony, justifying a bit of mopery to a mourner.

There's that sound of the gnome sucking at his teeth as he considers Aryia and her stack of blankets, staccato and indicating consideration. His gold and jewels glitter when he reaches up to smooth down his goatee before finally giving a shrug. "What's the worst that could happen?" He grins, holding out a hand and waving his fingers in a 'hand it over' sort of way.

"If you hear quiet snoring I assure you it's an ancient Gnomish technique."

The swirling lights begin to rise up, and orbit closer and closer together, before suddenly dropping into the pool, their light vanishing. The Gobbo plays a final flourish upon the violin, before waving the bow and instrument about momentarily. They both vanish from her hands.

There's a slight rustle of blue-silver cloth as she shuffles away from the pool. She touches her three fingers to her chest as she walks past Jinks, sticking her tongue out at the Gnome, while offering Aryia and Verna a polite nod. She squints and tries to follow the Mul'neissa's fingers as she signs. "Sure, I could do that with you.", she says warmly, of meditation.

Aryia has the perfect vulnerable expression of a teen sharing something they're secretly passionate about and fears internalized chastising that wouldn't actually happen.

There's a sigh of relief that spills from her, the mute handing over one blanket to Jinks as she snerks at his usual antics, another held in hand as she watches Acedia finish her song with a flourish. There's a light smile, and she holds one out as well.

Though, she looks up at Verna with large eyes. Her ears droop some, and she holds out a blanket towards her in offering.

Verna looks to Aryia with an utterly neutral expression. "Do you expect that I require some form of meditation? That I might hold some thoughts in need of calm?" One brow arches slightly at the question.

She is still and silent for several heartbeats before she steps from the bench to lower herself to the blankets. Yes, it was quite the rhetorical pair of questions. "I would be delighted to join you."

The blanket is taken up enthusiastically, though the be-robed Gobbo doesn't sit on it. She chooses to do her meditation while wrapped snugly inside of it. Settled cross-legged, she gets comfortable. "So like... you just think about nothing? Or is there something you're supposed to focus on?", she wonders of Aryia, her face peering out from her blanket-hood.

"Coyote laughs," greets Jinks when Acedia converts their trio to a quartet. He actually grins stupidly and exhales sharply in a silent laugh at Verna's questions. She has to be joking; the facetious response is just too perfect to not be humor.

The gnome takes his time with the blanket, managing as best as one might when you're the size he is. Leaving it folded in half, he flaps it gently out and slides it a short distance across the ground to leave it smooth before finding a seat. He draws up one leg to his chest, curls the other into his tush, and rests his chin on his raised knee. Bejeweled fingers raise the shawl up over his shock-white hair before he wraps his arms around his shin.

"As long as it's not a quiet period of self-reflection I think I'll be quite good at this," grins the bard.

"It's bad enough that thing being back there," he adds, tossing his eyes in the general direction of the temple's central feature.

The deadpan delivery was the perfect sweep kick to Aryia's venerable expression. Her enthusiasm went down about five pegs before she's reassured by the Mourner she'd join.

She blinks. It was a joke. Her face colors some before it's buried in a hand. The mute shakes her head to clear it all away.

She looks to Jinks, a small, near silent chuckle leaving her. "No, it's not that. Or... sort of that? Maybe?" to Acedia.

A three sets of eyes were on her. Oh. This was a bit more than she was expecting (one was the expected number). She shudders a breath, then sits upright.

Her hands move. "So. Um, this is just sort of something I do every now and then. I thought, with all this stuff going on as of late, it's kind of important to learn how to calm everything down. There is a lot to this, that I'm... not very good at explaining. I'm rambling, sorry, so, um..."

She rubs at her face, shakes her head, and gets started. "I've been told that everyone has a will. Desires and passions. Goals and ambitions. It's what drives us to the next day. Right now, there is only you, and all that drives you. Breathe, focus on your breath. The pulse of your heart. Instead of stilling your thoughts, let the sensations fill them. The babble of the pool. A breeze. Your air." <Handspeech>

Verna settles herself on a spot upon the blankets and closes her eyes. After another thought, she leaves one open for line of communication. "Quiet would be preferred," she notes softly to Jinks. "You may choose to reflect upon yourself or not as you wish. Your actions at the pool suggest that you prefer reflection of self." She subsequently falls quiet as she shifts her focus inward.

The Goblin follows the fingers as best she can, before noisily huffing, and her fingers move and she speaks under her breath, obviously weaving a spell. She squints at Aryia, having obviously missed a good part of the Mul's explanation.

She looks to the others for inspiration.

"But is he looking at his hat, jewelry or his nose?", the Gobbo wonders of Verna, as she assumes a similar position as the shorter Mul'neissa.

"Even a charnel house can be pleasant to look at from afar," rebuts Jinks with a grin. The way it's delivered makes it seem like some kind of adage or turn-of-phrase even if its meaning is lost in translation.

The bard takes his chin off his knee and lowers his head, resting his brow there instead. Up come his thumb and forefinger to pull the shawl further forward to hide his face. It's hard to imagine but the gnome can be quiet when he wants and so there's no sounds of his breathing now. He's mostly still, too, but close inspection reveals his fidgeting; spinning one of the rings on his fingers. <gnomish>

Aryia does her best to not stare overlong at folks as they settle in, her hoping she was doing a good job explaining. She spots Acedia having to double back, and she re-rambles for the gobbo.

Jinks is given an odd look, the mute tilting her head to the side, but not commenting on whatever that was. Her lips move to give further instruction, realize that it's futile, and her hands resume.

She gulps. "Right. If you find your mind wandering, or... you can't stay still. Just know that it's okay. Don't chastise yourself. Recognize you're doing it, gently push it away, and let the outside fill your senses."

A moment to let others center themselves. Then more gestures as she's already taken to this task without much thought. "This is... about it for now. Just this task. Getting to where you can still yourself, your outward flow of fidgeting, thoughts, is really hard. It's why you let the feeling of the ground beneath you take presence. The air in your lungs. The wind. The clothes on your skin, and so on and so on take hold instead." <Handspeech>

Jinks can't 'hear' Aryia with his head down but he keeps quiet and (mostly) still, folded in around himself. Occasionally the ring drags against or bumps its cousins but that makes little noise.

Breathe in through the nose. Brief hold. Breathe out through mouth. "One need not be utterly, still," Verna suggests for those more ... mobile in attempt to aid, "merely focused on the minutiae of the immediate. This allows concerns of past or future to fade. As well, yes, The Gray Harpist's Hall on the ridge above the city is quite the pleasant sight, from near or distant."

There's a faint noise coming from the Gobbo. She sits perfectly still, her eyes closed. Her breathing has slowed somewhat, and every now and then, there's a light rumble.

She's meditated herself to sleep.

Aryia takes stock of how everyone is doing. Verna seems to get it. She expected her to pick up on it quickly. That's good. It settled some of her nerves. Jinks was... he didn't catch her direction. Though, Verna helped surmise it for him.

And Acedia was...

... was asleep.

"Verna has the right of it, yes," she motions slowly. Two and a half out of four isn't a bad track record so far... right? "I am going to be doing this for some time, so... you all can continue with me or go about your day." Only one person really would see it. She softly sighs, and closes her eyes to resume. <Handspeech>

"Some may have already done so," Verna notes. Her tone is, as per usual, factual. There is no negative connotation nor tone contained within. Alternatively, as Jinks noted, it could be an ancient gnomish method. One either adopted, or possibly even originated, by the gobbers. Which is fact would depend on which one asked, in all likelihood.

Jinks issues another quiet snort of laughter at Verna's comment, turning his head enough to peek one onyx-black eye out from under the edge of his shawl and smirk. He sweeps the look over to Aryia, catching her most-recent signs.

The blinking version of a nod is offered and he settles in. For a bit, at least, but he can't quite find the smooth, steady rhythm for his breathing that goes with sitting in silence. He unfolds and stands, signing a quick "sorry" and smiling apologetically. With a quick cant of the head towards the exit to indicate he's off the gnome turns and goes, flexing his left-hand open and closed. <handspeech>

Aryia shakes her head as she just barely catches the movement of the gnome. "Don't be," a hand motions in a flick, then waves from the hip as he departs.

She silently chuckles, shakes her head at Acedia, and settles In.

Out. <Handspeech>

-End Scene-