Open Chronicles Breaking Bread at the Knoll

[Aarno]

He traced her look as it went about the room, fixing on whichever points of interest. The silence felt light despite the question left hanging in the air, like one should’ve delayed just for the sake of it, to linger in the present. There was naught to be had against it, so he merely kept his smirk and went to his meal, fully occupied with it until she finally did speak.

A bit of a call-out, huh? He half-snorted half-grumbled amidst his chewing, glancing at her in passing just to catch that expression, a bit of jest but not unserious. Wasn’t that where the better jokes came from — rooted in truths.

“ I’d never sink to that. “ He lied, toying with a potato on his plate. “ I’ve been trying to be kinder, both to others and myself. It is— “ A shrug, conflicted.

“ Going, I suppose. But the latter is the tricky one, so here’s hoping I don’t turn into an all-too-sure-of-himself arse in the process. “ One has the potential, believe you me. Eyeing her anew from beneath his brow, he met her playful tone with something rather impish. Gods, could he suffer getting any worse?

“ You didn’t spend your day helping out Louretta again, did you? “

Farren Lóthlindor

 

[Farren Lóthlindor]

"Well, I'm glad, since there's a lot... to be kind about." Her casual admission came with a light blush that burned and she peeked from beneath blonde lashes, unable to stop herself from watching his reaction.

Glancing back down, Farren took a deep breath and tore apart her bread roll to keep her hands busy. "And nay, I typically only make a nuisance of myself in her kitchen once a week." A smirk pulling at her lips. "Any more than that and I'm sure to be viable for a job change. And I happen to like my long solitary patrols of the wood just fine thank you."

A raucous clamor of yells and laughter erupted a few tables next to them over a lost card game and the strumming of the tavern bard near the fire took up a livelier tune, a saga she wasn't familiar with. The warm chords settled some of the nerves that flickered at the ends of Farren's fingers, and her hand was thankfully steady when it passed over a small thin package across the table to Aarno.

She cleared her throat and smiled shyly, "I actually brought you something. Remember when I mentioned the Wishing Day that my people celebrate? Well, I brought you your own prayer ribbons you could write on if you were still interested in going with me for the festival?"

Aarno

 

[Aarno]

A lot. What exactly she had meant with that was delivered in full by the expression she wore, a hint of a fluster about it. He extended great effort to keep his grin in check, straightening a little and giving a perfectly pleasant nod, as if it all had blown over his head. Could be one had spoken generally, wasn’t it?

Ought keep humble. What we had before was gross overconfidence and disproportionate inclination to drama — those strutting days be buried. Surely.

He opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get a word out past the hooting and hollering from a couple tables over, the ruckus clearing whatever stray words he had and leaving but a silence. In it he’d remain, watching the celebration, until something moved towards him on the table in a faint huff.

His look would take in hers before realizing the package. He reached to pull it over the rest of the way, resting his hand on it as she spoke. How lovely was all that, now?

” Yes, I would. I mean— Yes, I would like to. ” He responded, mustering a smile to spirit away the blank, taken-aback-borne expression from his face. His fingertips tried the tie about the wrapping, curiousity rattling him to open it at once and see what these ribbons looked like. Something to write on.

” And thank you. ” A light tap on the box. ” Are we supposed to keep the wishes secret — ” He continued, looking around hastily and leaning in as if to conspire, voice lowering for effect.

” Or do you figure people get to spy on each others’ hopes, dreams and promises? ”

Was that even the entire point?

Farren Lóthlindor

 

[Farren Lóthlindor]

Profound relief washed over Farren, the tension draining from her narrow shoulders. She hadn't realized how much importance she had been placing in Aarno accepting her gift without thinking her odd and out of line for trying to show him such a prolific tradition of her people. It was by no means, unheard of amongst her nomadic clan to share their culture with outsiders. For they believed that having the opportunity to share their prayers with the forest was a right for everyone, however they wished to go about it, if they even wanted to to begin with.

But this particular festival was significant for the way those wishes were shared and seen by everyone. Believed that the more people who loved you and bore witness to seeing your most deeply held-desires, the more likely it was to be fulfilled. Whether one of her people wished for a good year for their flock, a new lute, or even the opportunity to find a partner.

Sometimes those prayers were answered by a community.

Answered in the way that once they're known, suddenly that shepherd may find he has extra hands for calving season in the spring, or a new instrument mysteriously laid at the foot of their doorstep by a friend, or the interested eyes of a potential lover who had yearned from afar, had finally found the courage to seek the wisher out.

Farren believed that the power of an answered prayer, more often than not, came from the humble strength of your neighbor. Your friends. Your family. Your partner.

That word bloomed unbidden in Farren's mind, no doubt due to the taut line of fabric that clung to Aarno's throat as he leaned forward to engage her in banter.

Focus, Farren. She chastised herself, recovering with an affirming swallow of her ale before pasting a grin on her face and shrugging coyly at the man, "I think that entirely depends on whether you have anything worth spying on, hmm?" The Duskling set down her mug and traced the rim with a slender finger, leaning forward to mimic him in a whisper. "I do rather enjoy a juicy story."

Aarno

 

[Aarno]

Anything worth spying on—

A soft tsk escaped betwixt his teeth, expression brightening as he held her look in the closeness of their unison huddle. The amusement quickly took on contemplation in a hum, indecisive. What was there to wish upon for whom spent very little time dreaming, so preoccupied with the immediance of the present and one's own direct action. The powers of just the one.

He could definitely think of something. Perhaps he’d just lacked the daring for too long, out of practice.

“ Maybe I do. “ He said, all coy smile and tender tone as he dipped his stare into the table betwixt them. “ Maybe I don’t. “ In a shrug the mock expression broke, easing back to something more sly.

“ You’ll have to wait and see. But I do expect to hear of whichever thing I’ll end up writing down, should they be foolish. “ Marking, his look bounced at the box, softer. From there it went back to her as he withdrew a little, sitting back.

“ So, while I can respect the fact you enjoy a good story, I– “ His head cocked, haughty. “ Was explicitly promised one. Alongside this dinner. “

He gestured accordingly, quirking a brow at her. All in good humour.

“ Have you figured out yours yet? Wishes, that is. There some rule of propriety as to their number I should know about? “

Gods, if he could even think of the one to start–

Farren Lóthlindor