Private Tales Big Trouble at the Little Flower Shop

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Neremyn Virvyre

Lythari
Elbion College
Messages
135
Character Biography
Link
~~

“What is that?” The young scholar spoke quietly, in almost a hush, as the older elf pulled the coarse bed sheet out in a striking display of finesse and over-indulgence of dramatic pizazz. Dust and debris, caught in the curtains of sunlight cutting through the lofted laboratory, revealed just how little use the device had seen in recent days. Ere began to fold up the sheet, arm over arm, in a somewhat lazy fashion as he surveyed the device.

“Sighting scope.” He stated, matter-of-factly, as if the term should have been known to the young man. Once he set down the sheet and realized the item was entirely foreign to the young man, the Maester sighed and proceeded to pick out some twigs from his salt and pepper beard. “Everything is a form of communication or interaction. In some cases, we are conveying a request…” He fiddled with the winding stem on a few of the lenses, aligning them in a particular order. “In other cases, we are looking for something unspoken. Messages or balances, at the confluence of a forest’s edge, or the prevailing winds within the wavelengths of light…”

“I…I don’t understand.”
“I can see that.” Ere responded as he sat down, scooting the stool in against the table to the sound of wood scraping against wood. He adjusted another lens and pulled one free from the stem. After inspecting it in the light, the glass fogged up from his breath as he proceeded to clean the lens with the edge of his tattered robe. “Fetch me a bit of vellum, please.”

With that, the young scholar shuffled through some drawers, disturbing another batch of dust and debris, before providing the Maester with a bit of rolled up parchment. “Perfect.” Ere replied as he rolled out the piece of vellum, placed it at the center of the scope, and weighted it down with a few pebbles extracted from his trouser pocket. Clamping the last lens into place, he made a few more adjustments before stepping away and pulling the curtain back to shine light through the entire lab. The frames of the lenses began to turn colors, between red, blue, and green as light was perpetually refracted between the lenses. The smell of smoke began to fill the air as the magnified light struck against the paper, charring it.

Once a few moments had passed, Ere closed the curtains once more. The scholar extracted the piece of parchment to observe the scorch marks. Uncertain of the results, he handed the piece back over to Ere. “I can’t read it…”

“I would be surprised if you could…” Ere stated as he lifted the parchment and studied it.
“What does it say?”
“Hmm…I need to go to Alliria.”
“Should I prepare your horse?”
“No. I’ll take the stone.”

~~

Alliria was not his preferred location - in fact, most locations composed largely of steel and stone were not his preference. He understood it was civilization's way of establishing itself but at the end of the day, it felt at odds with nature. As if it was man’s primary goal for conquest and the trees and mountains stood as obstacles and fortifications. And all it took was more steel fashioned into picks with people willing to swing it - and the world could be molded into the thing their heart desired.

A safe place to live, a shelter with food at the ready, and professions that were created simply to perpetuate the sedentary lifestyle that seemed to produce complacency in staying still. Yet all it would take was a great storm, a wildfire, or the earth to belch and rumble, and this place would be nothing more. And that was giving developments like this the benefit of the doubt - it was just as likely that they would destroy themselves as they would be subject to the whims of Drakon.

Neremyn approached the flower shop, which seemed to be as much of a storefront as it was a place to live, as he inspected the various flowers. A particular set of orchids caught his eye. The stems were verdant and healthy, the flowers were a mix of fuchsia on the interior of petals and were embossed with a frame of white. The column was tenuous and the anther cap had the distinct appearance of a particular wasp, which he knew was common along this stretch of coast. An elegant solution, he thought.

Looking up from the plants, he searched the storefront for the owner, in hopes of getting to the bottom of the vellum reading and uncertainties that it produced.

Gulliver Ingold