Open Chronicles An Arrangement of Stardust

[Alistair Krixus]

Alistair would have snorted his drink out then and there if he had not only just in the knick of time swallowed the most recent sip when the two described him and Liva as 'cool'.

They were not words that he imagined would ever be used to describe himself. No, most of the words used to describe him were often either vaguely insulting, incredibly efficient, or simply neutral, but cool was a new one.

"Lucky, or unlucky, may be a more apt word. Thank you nonetheless.

And as usual, the storm that was the twins' conversation moved right on along without much thought for who was dragged with it.

"Um, yes, I would say I travel quite a bit. I believe I've been to every continent except Malakath...barring a few of the small islands."

That was not Alistair bragging, or maybe it was a little, but it was also true. The young man had been sent to nearly every edge of the known world. even if Malakath was still high up on his places to visit.

Livia Quinnick Elyon and Eshara

 

[Yuebing Coquelicot]

Feä Mindalië 's question seemed apt enough. Yuebing also wondered if it was permissible. Even if this gala was filled with polite chatter and forced smiles it was only one night. Living side by side was another.
She watched the man's deflated reaction with mild confusion blooming across her features.
Yue had gathered that her ignorance might be a disadvantage at this gathering. This term would be that ignorance raising it's head. She had perhaps thought 'rovani' might be some profession until the sharp woman started throwing eye daggers at Fea again and talking about bloodlines.

"Forgive me....I'm not familiar with the word 'Rovani'......"
She patted Fea's arm while her eyes remained on Vittoria Larrainth .
"Rather I imagine it's the same reason your teeth are gritted, Miss Vittoria, that the College might be weary. The students are expected to play nicely together. Whatever their shape. If a mere Elf is too much for you to handle I should think the college campus may cause you no end of vexation."
Yue's eyes turned to Kilien Basmarc and seemed to genuinely measure him for the first time.
He appeared ordinary to her. What terrible thing could be associated with his bloodline to cause Maesters to pause?
The college had a particular reputation when it came to coin. If his confidence wavered this easily then he must not have the sort of funds that smoothed such matters over. Then again as greedy as the bursars might be she doubted they would over look any student purposely doing harm to the others. If not out of concern of well being than because less students meant less tuition regardless of the reason said students might be no longer with the college.
Ultimately she decided to be a blunt with her assessment as always.
"Your temperament seems plenty agreeable and your spirit unremarkable. Assuming Rovani doesn't mean something akin to elf slayer I see no reason the Maesters would turn down coin if you pass the assessment."

 

[Feä Mindalië]

Do...they not permit Rovani to apply?

Confusion beget confusion, if only for a small moment. But Feä surmised what he meant, and it astonished her. "You are not Anirian," she stated in a quiet wonder, such was her surprise by all that meant, and indeed, how it undermined all the notions she had ever heard of the southerly nation and their practices.

Then Vi (so Kilien had called her) became each in turn defensive, supportive, accusatory (looking to and mentioning in passing Feä and by extension every other student of the elven kindreds), and insinuating. Words again fled Feä, the fright in her heart absconding with them, but Yue again stood undaunted by the black-haired Anirian, and spoke for the two of them—and for that Feä again was secretly grateful. The small pat upon her arm gave extra reassurance.

"Elf slayer". Feä hoped it was not so, but quite confident was she in her original surmising, bolstered now by one of Vittoria's own replies and the implied meaning therein.

"The Rovani are a people, yes? Forgive me for knowing them not, but say true: are your kin good of nature, as you are?"

Simple and genuine inquisitiveness marked this question to Kilien, and Feä with her big eyes exuding the same studied him, and awaited his answer; for to her it was an especial question, this determination of blood and destiny.

Kilien Basmarc Vittoria Larrainth Yuebing Coquelicot

 

[Livia Quinnick]

"The world is so big and fascinating, yet this city alone has so much to learn. We imagine we will stay for some time. Boredom does not come to us here as easily as it does when we stay in other places for too long," Elyon continued. Eshara started to bounce on her heels, squeezing Livia's hand a bit.

"Do you get to travel often? What fascinating things have you seen?!"

The giddiness rolled from sister to brother, spreading like a wildfire in dry hay.

"Ohh, yes, yes! Please tell us!"

Touch was an intentional thing for Livia. It meant she held trust and empathy for an individual should she be the one to reach out... and thus did not take well to any that forced holding her hands or the like.

She froze up, tensed, and paid careful attention to the wine she still held as Eshara gave her wrist an excited jostled. A blessing that Liv had consumed most of it already, but her olivine eyes trained on the lip of the glass where the contents nearly reached.

"I have seen.. a lot of Liadain in the past year." There was no need to lie nor veil her truths. In a way, her magic always steered her to tell a truth, as it would tell her if someone were being evasive. "But I have seen the Empire and the Falwood the most... Initiate missions and... whatnot..." Her eyes flicked up to Alistair, her tone neutral, but the intensity she stared at him was a silent plea for him to perhaps aide her in the twin's capture.

Of course, he was blind.

Liv chewed on her bottom lip before clearing her throat and addressing the Yan'Katma.

"If you please... I would like my hands relinquished before my wine is spilled." To her credit, she tried to arm her tone with a softness and genteel cadence despite the strained attempt of a smile. "I would hate to have wine stain my dress."

Elyon and Eshara Alistair Krixus

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Despite not liking the idea of Kilien leaving, Vittoria would not stand to hear him be seen as inadequate. She always knew of his brilliance, his passion for magical theory, and believed he deserved to go where he liked to.
"They would be fools to deny you such an opportunity, Killy." A flash of warmth resided in her stare, for her eyes looked upon him to garner such an emotion. "Regardless of your bloodline... besides, the Proctors would write their recommendations for you." If that was what Kilien wanted, then she wanted him to succeed in his own right. Vittoria was learning to accept Kilien was not born to be a Dreadlord just as she had been.

He did not possess a magical skill that put him at the top of a list of threats.

"If they are accepting of, sorry to say, elves, then the College has no reason to deny you." She looked to the College students before them. "Or is there another reason you think someone that studied at the Academy is not eligible?"

Yuebing Coquelicot
Feä Mindalië
Kilien Basmarc

Ah, there it was; the elfening.

Lower lids pressed up into his eyes in a managed wince, giving in to a silent apology by way of the young elf before him as ever he was capable of emoting between brow and beard. He attempted to pinch a bit more diplomacy into her with his hand at her side, but he could already feel her growing tense. For all of Vittoria's assurances, which he had come to expect but no less appreciate over the last several months, it was the stark assessment of the dark-haired girl that raised a brow.

"Your temperament seems plenty agreeable and your spirit unremarkable."

Agreeable and yet... Unremarkable.

Kilien tossed a rapid blink her way, thinking that had perhaps been one of the nicest sentences a stranger had ever said to him after learning of his heritage. This immediately whisked away by relating his people to being elf-slayers.

He lifted a hand and gaped his mouth open to make clear they most certainly were no such thing, only to stop as the elf finally spoke up. A sympathetic smile answered her naked uncertainty.

"Noh, I'm not Anirian, not really," even if he did technically have Anirian blood running through his veins, he liked to believe it had been diluted over the few generations preceding him. "I'm Rovani. And yeah," Kilien nodded, brow knit upward faintly, "they're good people. They like elves."

And were persecuted for refusing to commit genocide against them, but that didn't seem like a story for an art gala with a hot-blooded Anirian woman on his arm.

Back to the point of admission into Elbion, he returned a look of mild surprise to Yuebing Coquelicot, "Well shebs, I've barely got two coins to rub together. Think they'll accept an IOU?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

She could hear the voice of a Proctor speak the words that played over and over in her mind.

If you have nothing nice to say, then do not say anything at all.

Vittoria smiled, a small laugh that sounded derisive in manner left her lips. A smile on Vittoria was unusual for her, but it was her favourite way to bare her teeth. Playing by the rules was not always the way she handled things, but this was not Vel Anir. She could not pull the strings she needed to get away with what she needed, but also Kilien had done her a service and took her mana away that morning.

The cuffs to nullify were merely for show.

Her hands moved about her sea green skirt, as if fishing for something. Fingers touched on the cold hilt of her favourite dagger. She was Anirian. If she did not have magic, she did not wish to be entirely defenseless should something happen.

"Of course they will, Killy." Again, that smile never left her lips. She withdrew her hands from her skirt, the weight of her dagger pressing at her thigh when she wrapped her arms around the crook of his. "They let in jut about anyone these days." She leaned to place a kiss on his cheek.

"I am bored. I will take a turn about the room." She did not bother to bid farewell to the College students, deeming them unworthy of her time.

Yuebing Coquelicot
Feä Mindalië
Kilien Basmarc

 

[Henk]

Henk chuckled softly, the sound low and unhurried, like distant thunder rolling over calm waters. His gaze swept the gathered students: Pomrick still red about the ears, Lysander far too composed for his age, and Nilamani poised as if the entire room orbited their gentle sway.

“Careful, Salak,” Henk murmured with an amused glance toward his older companion. “You’ll frighten them into thinking we Dreadlords are scholars, not soldiers.”

Then, turning back to Nilamani, his tone softened with the easy charm of a man accustomed to smiling through discomfort. “Though I admit, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious myself. The world teaches us just enough to be dangerous and never enough to be wise. I've indeed heard whispers of Nerevyn, of folk who move like the tide and breathe like old magic, but the description given certainly doesn't fit a lass like yourself.”

He gestured faintly with an open hand, not toward her form, but to the air between them, a quiet acknowledgment of her composure, her dignity amid the scrutiny.

“You carry mystery the way others wear silk,” Henk said, smiling faintly. “And mystery, I’ve learned, is rarely born of malice.”

He leaned slightly on his heel, letting the murmur of the gala reassert itself around them: the soft laughter, the clinking of glass, the distant tune of music. “For what it’s worth, my friends,” he continued, voice dipping low, “It feels as though by standing around and speaking cordially, we've done more for peace between our peoples in five minutes of honesty than all our diplomats have managed in a decade.”

Then, as if realizing he’d spoken too earnestly, he cleared his throat and flashed a scarred grin. “Though, if Salak insists on interrogating you with endless inquiries, I can offer protection, for a modest fee.”

 

[Nilamani]

"well...." While Nilamani had warmed up slightly to this little cultural exchange, they still felt weary by the prospect of sharing. It wasn't as thought they hadn't spoken of it before. Salak wasn't the first to ask and surely they wouldn't be the last. Nilamani had gotten used to this line of questioning from some of the Maester and classmates at the college, but there they could put aside their discomfort. At the college they had more faith that such pursuits were truly academic in nature. They wouldn't be so pleased if what knowledge they shared ended up ensnaring one of their own kin.

They held off in their reply to turn their attention to the scarred Henk . Despite their appearance their words continued to be fairly gentle.
"is that so? " It was an odd feeling to have oneself described in such a poetic way.
"I certainly wouldn't have expected such flattery from a dreadlord before now." They glanced between Henk and his older associate. "If it weren't the very purpose of this evening I would have thought this some coordinated attempt to lure me into a false sense of security."

"Ah, Maester Vaezhasar need no better advertisement with you about, hm?" Nilamani remarked in a slightly teasing tone.
Of course Lysander Docatto Valestri chiming in about his much admired tutor had reminded Nilamani why being described as mysterious felt like such a compliment. Lysander Docatto Valestri was a walking representations of why they felt more at ease in the college walls. Their attitude being almost completely dismissive in nature. The college was one of the few places they could openly wear their form and still be considered mundane by someone. Not to mention that of course there were classmates at the college that had been witness to the awkward phase of Nilamani adjusting to using this form out of the water and in front of others.
Perhaps they would attend after all, if for nothing other than for further instruction on how to avoid the interest of such types. They had the feeling that both pupil and maester were very good at constructing cages with their mind boggling magics. It was lucky then really that they seemed so fascinated with such esoteric forms of familiars.

They caught in passing Pomrick Bloomsfield look of interest. It seemed that some of the shock had worn of for their friend. After a moment more of careful hesitation they turned back to Salak.
"I suppose in consideration for the bounds we've made in diplomacy this evening....I will at least hear your questions." They replied with a cautiously amused smile.

Colt Pirian

 

[Salak]

Salak gave an eye roll that might have tilted the axis of the world itself but he was amused.
Henk's way was pleasant and warm and Salak knew he was neither of those things and he did not mean to offend despite himself.

"Perhaps peace may have been at our doors sooner if cracking open books was as common in The Vels as cracking open heads Henk."
His barb has no venom, his appreciation for Henk was born of their differences and it had made them formidable when allied together.
The contemplative and the direct, the mighty and the sly.

"Yes I've heard of this Vaezhasar but I do not believe I saw him on the guest list. A shame, he is supposed to be of a very interesting mind."
What he meant by that was anyone's guess, Salak used *interesting* like some people used the word *funny*. He ignored the young man's fear, what horrors he spoke of impressed him not. Monsters of the inner and outer worlds were nothing to the unique darkness of the Human soul in Salak's experience.
Nilamani then expressed, in her joking way, the very heart of keen insight. She perceived a potential threat. It was of course not impossible and between them Henk and Salak had taken far greater and monstrous prey but what made him glad was that she had the wit to give it voice.
See the potential, never dismiss it.
Give it voice and let them KNOW you can see it.
He saw the makings of a Stalker in this one, if only they were Anirian.

"I wonder if you'd tell me about your people Apprentice Nilamani. Anything really, music, art, significant dates, life cycles, habitat, I understand your people come from the sea yet, I see no fins or gills! I... We Anirians..."
His green eyes flashed to Henk as if in apology for he found himself about to commit a certain cultural sin of his own but he felt the expression fear, even so given, needed addressing so he made himself vulnerable and took a risk.

"... we are in many significant ways ignorant and that has made us prejudice. I am shamed to admit it but if I could bring back a bit of your people's customs, knowledge or language it might help those who dwell in ignorance to uplift themselves."
An encouraging hand gesture followed his word but he faltered at the end, he was getting carried away in his earnestness which caused a look of concern to cross his face. He really did not have Henk's easy way with people and few times in his life did he wish he had it more than now.

"At your discretion, of course."

 

[Pomrick Bloomsfield]

A curious knot had taken root in Pomrick's stomach. He struggled to identify the feeling, but it certainly didn't feel good. As the Anirians further questioned Nilamani, he couldn't escape the notion that he ought to have been the one to ask these questions, ages ago.

And now, these Anirian strangers were doing a better job of getting to know her than him? He huffed to himself, not certain when to wedge a word in, but treading more carefully, as his gut told him he had made a fool of himself earlier.

He awaited these questions from Salak, half-dreading what might come from the crippled Dreadlord, who appeared burdened with scars and injuries from a war-torn past. Pomrick dared not imagine how such injuries might come to be, but he sensed that they were not all that weighed on the old man's shoulders.