Open Chronicles Harvest Moon Celebration

[Divina Rosenstern]

In Alliria, one celebration could trump all others. One reason for the Merchant Council to relax, so to speak, and for the peoples, from the Shallows to the citadel, to pause from their labors and cheer on a season. This season happened to be Divina's favorite, as well.

A full street near the central Marketplace was cordoned off, and filled with vendors all across the continent. Rich spices and loud voices cheered; there was even a space cleared for dancing and eating good food. The hostess herself would blend in with the crowd; though a few still whispered of the Black Widow Rosenstern, a new rumor began circulating; news of a happier manner that fed the gossip mills.

Over the harbor, a low moon glowed, full and rich in its' deep gold glory. The old days praised this moon in some pagan festivities; tonight was a night of indulgence, mischief, and entertainment. Anything could happen.

For now, however, the hostess walked here and there, admiring trinkets and carrying a basket on her hip, a small smile painted on full lips. Magic was in the air tonight... who would dare to show to this block party for the Harvest Moon?

 

[Erren Serris]

It was very rare indeed that a trip to the Shallows of Alliria was something that appealed to Erren. Most of the folk there distrusted him. Serris wasn't the 'Tower Folk' they frowned upon so often, but it wasn't difficult to discern where he'd come from just by looking at his outfit and listening to his voice. In their eyes, a mage from Elbion had even less reason to be here than the Tower Folk.

So when a celebration of merriment and revelry took place in a section of Alliria usually quite closed off to outsiders, it was an excellent chance to indulge himself. Happiness wasn't something that was particularly in excess in the life of the former Maester of the great College. Reduced to wandering city to city to investigate magical crimes and scooping up dangerous artifacts like a glorified street sweeper, his days of teaching the fine arts of the arcane were long gone.

It was lonely, sitting at the bottom and looking up at the top where you'd once been. He'd nothing to show for it but money, and hardly anything he wished to spend it on, caught as he was under the thumb of his overseers.

That loneliness could be forgotten underneath a bottle of ale though, even if only temporarily, and the warmth that crashed down his throat was exquisite as he took a swig from the bottle he'd bought from a rather impressive collection displayed on a cart parked at the side of one of the quickly busying streets. Sure, he was still getting looks for his expensive clothes and the somewhat scruffy face that contrasted them, but most people were far too busy laughing, dancing, and drinking to care a bit.

Erren walked the streets with them, filling a few empty cups with his bottle as they passed him, nodding and smiling at the thanks he received. In another life, he would have adored this kind of existence; living for the harvest, reveling in the simple. Tonight, he would enjoy himself as though he'd been here his entire life.

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

Alliria was normally abuzz with activity, that was its natural state of being, a bustling trade city that hardly ever sleeps. If anything, this celebration made the city less bustling, condensing a large portion of the population to a single area and leaving the larger portion of the city with lighter activity and easier traffic.

Divina knew how to throw a party; he knew that from firsthand experience.

He walked about, taking in the sights and sounds, some of them being loud enough to his sharp hearing to make him wince, but it wasn't so bad that he couldn't bear it. The scents of thousands of people mingled with the scents of just as many different kinds of food.
He couldn't pick out any single scent on the chaos of smells, but he didn't mind this either.
This was a time to relax and enjoy the festivities, eat good food, drink good drink, enjoy good company and dance the night away!

He especially looked forward to the dancing. The central marketplace sported a wide communal area with a large fountain dominating the middle.
On the steps leading to its edge minstrels and bards of all flavors harmonized together to create an atmosphere of joy with a tune and rhythm for people to move and step to.

Tzuriel drank it all in, striding through the crowd both highborn and common as if he belonged. He bowed to lords and ladies, shook hands with merchants and council members, nodded his head to priests and paupers.
He was now and forevermore the self-proclaimed Merchant King of Arethil, a title no one has successfully dared to dispute.
And the king now sought his future queen.

It shouldn't be too hard to locate the most beautiful woman in all Alliria, or all of Arethil for that matter. But his eyes scanned the smiling faces around him and not one shone like the sun, not one had eyes which held the stars themselves.

He found himself holding a drink and sipped it. The search goes on.

 

[Lionel Leonhardt]

A festival like this was a paradise for thieves, scoundrels, and general rapscallyhood. Amidst the romantic intruige and incredible splendor of the moon-lit night, of the gathering's many splendors and noble intrigues, no doubt was there a score of Allirian street rats honestly plying their dishonest trade. From the subtle art of pickpocketing as a child pushed his way through the crowd, his hand gracefully sliding from purse to pocket and snatching whatever loose bauble it could. Contrast this with to the more elaborate and devious ruses - ruses that involved distractions, impressive acts of sleight-of-hand, and silver tongues so persuasive they could convince you they weren't anything less than gold. Thievery so professional that the only proof it ever happened, was the blatant fact that some nobleman was missing their treasured necklace.

Of course, there was also the thievery of hearts - in fact that very treasure is what most seemed to be after on such an auspicious eve as this, but Lionel never cared none for that. Why spend time studying the finer art of fair men and maidens, when he could spend that time doing badass things that they wrote stories about? Love was temporary, but glory was forever.

Such was the city of Alliria, where profit could be made by anyone, and just about anyone was out to get their cut.

And Lionel was out for his. But he wasn't interested in money - nor in the skullduggery of his kin -, heroes didn't bother themselves with such trivialities.

A hero ought'a do some great things with or against great obstacles or foes. And to him, the greatest member at this festival was none other than the Merchant King of Alliria himself. The debonair undisputed king-pin. Of course, Lionel never cared to learn why he was the "Merchant King of Alliria", or how he had earned an uncontested title of power, but Lionel didn't care for such trivial things like critical thought and intelligent reasoning.

Lionel saw this debonair man who had made a legend of himself, who garbed himself in rich attire and oozed a swagger and confidence no doubt backed by competency and a proven record. He who shook hands with princes and paupers, and whom everyone seemed to regard as important and influential. Lionel saw a challenge in this man.

Strutting fourth towards the center of the fountain square in his ragged leathers without an inch of modesty, waving his majestic hair golden-blonde lockes in a dramatic display (as all heroes must have a dramatic entrance), and addressed the king himself with a strong and pointed index finger.

"Aha! Merchant King of Alliria, who's title knows no doubt, and wealth knows no bounds", he had made that second part up on the cuff , hopefully he was right. "Art thou a betting man, perchance?"

Lionel smiled wide with bright white teeth, and looked upon this king for his response.

 

[Niobe Miller]

Today was a good day to be alive.

She had been baking, cooking, and running about all the eve before, even waking at the crack of dawn to check on honey cakes and pumpkinbread she'd left to rise the night before. This was her first harvest celebration, and the first time she had opened a stall. So many mortals... she closed her eyes, savoring the smells and sounds that pressed all around her, arms clutching the latest batch of pumpkinbread to not only savor the warmth, but to keep it safe from snatching hands and eager eyes. Stellarin, her assistant, was manning the stall while she darted from her little bakery and back.

Simple brown hair was pulled back to a low braid, and cinnamon freckles dotted a small snub nose. She had tied a blue ribbon in her hair to mark the occasion, and had changed into simple clothing in dark brown and blue, colors that suited her. She was no fine lady, she thought wryly, as a slender figure dressed in a blue cloak swished past. She glanced over her shoulder where the lady went, but shrugged. Looked like there was a crowd beginning to gather where some young sellsword seemed to swagger at a lordly-looking man. Niobe was just as eager to watch as the next person, but perhaps she ought to--

She couldn't even finish the thought before she stumbled into someone, so keenly was she paying attention to the pair barely visible. Or, perhaps, someone. She couldn't tell; but she staggered back, and much to her dismay, she had spattered some flour and bread on the back of this poor man.

Cheeks flaring red in mortification, she bent down to scoop up the remainder of what she carried. She was too embarrassed to look at his face, in case he was one of those ones to lose his temper.

"Cor! I'm sorry sir, you alright? Can I wash that off for you?" Her voice was light and lilting, and she peered beneath her lashes, face a mess of embarrassment and shame. "Should have watched where I was going, you alright?"

Erren Serris

 

[Divina Rosenstern]

Just as Tzuriel was seeking her, she was being tricky with him.

He had a slight advantage, with his sight, smell, and hearing, so she treaded carefully, guessing that perhaps he would be meeting with some merchants or dancing; or perhaps he was looking for her, a thought that made the councilor blush.

Pulling the simple blue cloak tighter around herself, she began giving the items in her basket away. Small simple loaves of bread, corn dollies, and roses, harvested from her own garden. She herself dressed plainly, in a white cotton blouse, black corset, and dark red skirt. She kept finding herself drawn to the dancing square, and when she saw her quarry, she gave a mischievous smile.

Perhaps he would see her, lurking in the crowd behind the youth that seemed to challenge him openly. She wasn't trying to hide completely, after all; the hunt would merely begin now, and let him have a fleeting glimpse of his quarry before she would melt into the crowd again. Still, she held aloft a red rose, and a wink. Seen or not, she had a front row seat, and was intrigued to see what would happen next.

Tzuriel Alanthis Lionel Leonhardt

 

[DeeHaxs]

A young komodi walks among the crowd, cloaked, but not menacingly, it was obvious that he had clou because of the pale spot over his left eye. He walks to the vendors, buying a trinket here and there and making small talk with others.

After a little bit he started to notice others who don’t seem to be commoners, he started to wonder if there was more than he knew happening.
(just a side question, is there any way to get the background/theme things on the forum so i can have it as a background?)

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

His search was interrupted. No sooner had he lowered the cup from his lips when a voice rose above the chaos for his attention.

"Aha! Merchant King of Alliria, who's title knows no doubt, and wealth knows no bounds", he had made that second part up on the cuff , hopefully he was right. "Art thou a betting man, perchance?"

He looked over his shoulder and regarded the man who addressed him... Or... Boy?
Just at a glance from a practiced merchant's eye, the man before him was a walking contradiction. His bearing conflicted with his build, his mannerisms conflicted with his upkeep and hygiene (which he was unfortunately aware of with his currently heightened senses).

Immediately his words gathered an interested crowd.
Tzuriel scanned the faces around them for a moment and took another drink before turning to face the man with a smirking smile that only barely concealed the sharpness of his striking blue gaze that sought to pierce the poorly equipped warrior to his core.
"Tell me the odds and we shall see, I'm a cautious man you know. But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir, I don't believe I've had the privilege of making your acquaintance."

Perhaps he would see her, lurking in the crowd behind the youth that seemed to challenge him openly. She wasn't trying to hide completely, after all; the hunt would merely begin now, and let him have a fleeting glimpse of his quarry before she would melt into the crowd again. Still, she held aloft a red rose, and a wink. Seen or not, she had a front row seat, and was intrigued to see what would happen next.

He watched the man until his eyes caught sight of his quarry just over his shoulder... Saw her rose and the wink of her eye... She knew that he was looking for her, and she wasn't going to make it easy. He could only barely suppress the grin that threatened to break his composure.

He will find her once he was free of this man.
He approached, holding his drink in one hand and offering his other hand to shake.
"You already know me, Tzuriel Alanthis of Alanthis Trade and Co. What sort of bet do you propose?"

 

[Lionel Leonhardt]

"Tell me the odds and we shall see, I'm a cautious man you know. But I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir, I don't believe I've had the privilege of making your acquaintance. . . You already know me, Tzuriel Alanthis of Alanthis Trade and Co. What sort of bet do you propose?"

Lionel's smile widened into a truly smug thing at the King's words, as if what he had said was precisely what Lionel wanted to hear. He puffed his chest out proudly and shook the King's hand with cavalier gusto, his voice dripping with a theatrical pride that the he so deliciously indulged in.

"Hah! Ahaha - I am so very glad you asked! I am Glorious Lionel Leonhardt, Hero of Arethil! Slayer of dragons, savior of many maidens and noble men." Lionel turned towards the crowd of growing on lookers, and gave an obnoxiously enthusiastic wink to the first person his dull green eyes came upon. In this instance, a young Komodi who had dropped by just in time for the spectacle. "It's a wonder that my accomplishments haven't reached the intrepid folk of Allira. For my legendary battles with evil necromancers upon the frosty peaks of Belgrade, to my famous and renowned clashes of sanguine stained steel with the Bhatharik beastmasters and their ferocious warriors are truly heroic deeds! But alas - I suppose I am so quick to herosim, that my every adventure outruns the pace of which my glorious deeds spread."

Lionel sighed and threw his head back in another theatrical display of melancholy before returning to his grinning state of self-praise.

"Ah, but alas, I digress upon my kickass achievements, so numerous they are that I nearly forgot why I addressed you, Tzurirel Alanthis, Of Alanthis Trade and Co. . . . "

Tzuriel, that's his name. Tzuriel Alanthis. Merchant King of Alliria. Lionel thought to himself, happy that he didn't have to ask out loud.

The 'Hero' cleared his throat, and began explaining his challenge. "I propose a drinking contest! Whomever can consume more tankards of ale, mead, or whichever drink we decide upon in this intrepid contest of inebriation, wins, and is rewarded with the praise and respect of all those standing witness. . . " Lionel's grin became something truly mischievous. "The loser, however, must buy a round for the entirety of tonight's festival. Surely, for someone as rich and luxurious as you, that won't be a problem?"

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren had been tilting the mouth of the bottle against his lips, taking down the last of the warm, bitter drink down his throat with a satisfied hum when he felt something hit his back, causing him to stumble forward and drop the bottle to the ground. The sound of shattering glass would have usually drawn attention to the scene, but whatever was unfolding not far from him was keeping them occupied.

Turning on his heel to see what had collided with him, his face softened a bit at the meek looking woman peering up at him as though she were afraid he'd eat her alive. Something about the way she looking at him, combined with the slight buzz of the liquor in his blood and the overall silliness of the situation brought a laugh to his lips before any words could make it.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Miss. Things happen. If anything you did me a favor knocking that bottle out of my hands. I think I've had enough." Serris wiped his hands and reached behind him to feel what had spilled on his back. His palm came back a clammy white, and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Flour?" His gaze flickered back to the demure girl in front of him. "Have you been baking for the festival?"

The mage didn't look it, but he'd much enjoyed cooking and baking in his youth. When was the last time he'd made anything? Oh, years at this point. Either way, Erren certainly didn't want her feeling guilty. He wore a warm smile, reaching out and patting her shoulder gently.

"How about this? Tell me your name and show me to where I can wash up a bit, and we can call it even, Miss...?"

Niobe Miller

 

[Niobe Miller]

She half-expected a man dressed so finely to be someone with a short temper. Most of the tower-folk were in her limited experience; rude, cutting, or horribly witty. But he seemed... amused? She blinked twice, then flushed deeper red when he dusted some of the flour off.

Speak, idiot Naiad. He's not gonna eat you.

"I was..." she laughed in self-depreciation, gesturing to the ruined loaves in her arms. "All night and day, as a matter of fact. But I have plenty more!" She quickly continued, blinking when he lightly patted her shoulder.

So warm...

So this was what mortal men were like? Were all of them this warm? Chasing the thought away, she nodded once, scooping up the bread into her apron and clearing her throat. "Niobe. Niobe Miller. I don't know many places to wash, but you can come to my place--" she suddenly stopped, then shook her head, eyes wide. "Gods, not like that though! My place of business! It has a washroom. And to make up for your drink..." she peeked around him at the shattered bottle.

"A loaf of pumpkin bread and homebrewed ale? Least I could do for spoiling your finery, sir...?" She tilted her head quizically and held out her hand. It was what mortals did when introducing themselves, wasn't it? Or was she doing something old-fashioned again? Their tastes and ideas changed so frequently, even a young being like herself struggled to keep up with the cultural trends.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

"Niobe. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Miller." Erren bowed his head lightly, the lovely name ringing softly on the tip of his tongue. This was supposed to be a night of celebration and happiness. What excuse would he have to look down on another for an honest mistake? If she'd been baking for as long as she claimed, she could use all the compassion she could get, tired as she must have been.

Admittedly, Serris did have to bite down gently on his lower lip to keep from chuckling at Niobe's little slip of the tongue. Erren wasn't the type who would normally indulge in such a brazen and forward invitation even if it had been what she'd meant. Not that she wasn't easy on the eyes, of course. It had just been so long since he'd even thought about anything of the sort. His life was different now, perilous.

"Free food and fine company? You do know the way to a man's heart, Niobe." Erren smiled, reaching out to take her hand and shake it gently. "My name is Erren Serris. I'm a mage, from the city of Elbion." The bottle wasn't a loss, as it was mostly empty, but he also didn't wish for the young woman to feel as though she was indebted to him. Plus, if he was being honest, it had been a lonely night. Some conversation wouldn't be unwelcome.

"I would love to try some of that pumpkin bread. If it tastes as good as that bread you just had with you smelled, I think I'm in for a wonderful night." Tomorrow he would likely be receiving a letter telling him to get back to work, sending him to some far-off city in search of the next piece of a neverending puzzle. Tonight? He would let himself have a bit of fun.

Niobe Miller

 

[Divina Rosenstern]

So he spotted her. Her lips twitched at her future spouse's challenger proposing the loser to pay the next round; so she would lay out bets. She had full faith in Tzuriel, however, the chance of him losing would be intriguing to watch nonetheless.

She melted into the crowd, taking care to set down the rose. The cloak was shed and given to someone else; the basket and all its' goodies were given away to all festival-goers with a wink and a smile. She would shed evidence for a trail and watch from a differing vantage point; however, there was a flaw in this man's plans. The drinks provided were free until the last barrel would go dry, and Rosenstern's wineries and breweries were very flush this year, in thanks to a good harvest and better, more convenient supply run.

Still, she watched Tzuriel eagerly, eyes half-hooded as she leaned against a wooden pole. Would he accept?

Tzuriel Alanthis Lionel Leonhardt

 

[Niobe Miller]

"Erren Serris..." she mumbled the name, cocking her head. It was a good, fitting name. It sat strongly in the mind. Somehow, it very much suited the man, at least what little she would glean from personality. Still, she flushed at hearing her own name, and gave him a grin, removing her hand to better scoop the fragments of pumpkin bread and prevent more from spilling out into the street.

"Ah yes, well, few can resist fresh warm bread and good company." Pale blue eyes glittered cheerfully as she granted the man a warm smile, then nodded. "Right. Well, better to avoid the rabble on the way; not up to tangling with other pedestrians to dust with flour." She nodded to the two men seeming to... what was the term... square up further ahead? It certainly attracted attention.

Turning on a heel, she began to walk briskly, wishing to any of the gods for her face to cool from its' heat, and for her to maintain her focus. Keeping a mortal form was difficult, after all. Keeping it consistent, while being disarmed by a handsome face, was more difficult still. However, she would do what she could.

She sidled past a small old lady offering apples, and down a set of narrow steps to a back alley. Thankfully, less people preferred to crowd out here; she even offered a nod of her head or a smile to a few passersby, recognizing a few patrons. It didn't take long before she wound up at the back gate. Nudging it open with a foot, she nodded towards a door set on the other side of a rather riotous garden, offering a broad smile.

"Back entrance is there, washroom to your left. When you've dusted off, I'll be down the hall two doors down; I keep my promise, especially with bread involved." Giving him a grin, she swished her way in casually, knocking the door open with her hip.

"Kees! Minah! We have a guest, be on your best behavior!"

Two pairs of green eyes, matched with two kittens, peered up sleepily from their pile, before once more curling up.

Nothing new here. Perhaps just a new client.

Erren Serris

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

Lionel's smile widened into a truly smug thing at the King's words, as if what he had said was precisely what Lionel wanted to hear. He puffed his chest out proudly and shook the King's hand with cavalier gusto, his voice dripping with a theatrical pride that he so deliciously indulged in.

"Hah! Ahaha - I am so very glad you asked! I am Glorious Lionel Leonhardt, Hero of Arethil! Slayer of dragons, savior of many maidens and noble men." Lionel turned towards the crowd of growing on lookers and gave an obnoxiously enthusiastic wink to the first person his dull green eyes came upon. In this instance, a young Komodi who had dropped by just in time for the spectacle. "It's a wonder that my accomplishments haven't reached the intrepid folk of Allira. For my legendary battles with evil necromancers upon the frosty peaks of Belgrade, to my famous and renowned clashes of sanguine stained steel with the Bhatharik beastmasters and their ferocious warriors are truly heroic deeds! But alas - I suppose I am so quick to herosim, that my every adventure outruns the pace of which my glorious deeds spread."

Lionel sighed and threw his head back in another theatrical display of melancholy before returning to his grinning state of self-praise.

Tzuriel was beginning to get the sense that this young man was full of hot air... Or shit, or both. Not a very palatable combination.
Tzuriel was a well-traveled man, he often joined his caravans and traveled to almost all of the major countries and continents. What's more, he relied on such "heroes" as this man described himself to be in order to protect said caravans, and since he'd never heard of one by his name or description, he was inclined to believe very little of what he said.

Still, whether the man was who he said he was or not wasn't Tzuriel's business.

"Ah, but alas, I digress upon my kickass achievements, so numerous they are that I nearly forgot why I addressed you, Tzurirel Alanthis, Of Alanthis Trade and Co. . . . "

Tzuriel, that's his name. Tzuriel Alanthis. Merchant King of Alliria. Lionel thought to himself, happy that he didn't have to ask out loud.

The 'Hero' cleared his throat and began explaining his challenge. "I propose a drinking contest! Whomever can consume more tankards of ale, mead, or whichever drink we decide upon in this intrepid contest of inebriation, wins, and is rewarded with the praise and respect of all those standing witness. . . " Lionel's grin became something truly mischievous. "The loser, however, must buy a round for the entirety of tonight's festival. Surely, for someone as rich and luxurious as you, that won't be a problem?"

Tzuriel listened to the challenge over the lip of his cup.
A drinking game? He had to admit, such a challenge piqued his interest. Back in his days as a vampire alcohol had ceased to affect him, he could drink to his heart's content and not even get tipsy, which he did for a little while until the taste began to bore him and the lack of a buzz failed to entertain him... To be honest, once he was human again, he found that he had lost his taste for alcohol and wouldn't drink except to be polite or for special occasions such as this.

And now he suffered from a different affliction. It hadn't occurred to him to test whether or not a beast such as himself could become drunk... And suddenly that thought almost made him involuntarily shiver... Without inhibitions and without his mental control... Could he control the beast?

... He saw Divina melt into the crowd...

That seemed to make up his mind for him.

"Ser Leonhardt..." He began, lowering his cup, his best smile on display for Lionel and the crowd. "I accept your challenge in the spirit in which it was given! And since you issued the challenge, I shall be the one to choose our weapons!"
He turned to one of the many drinking tables bearing hard ale, a staple of sailors and working men around the docks, rumored to put hair on the chests of men and women alike.
"This shall be our beverage! The first to hurl, or the first to fall unconscious shall be the loser."

He had spoken partially to Lionel and partially to the crowd, but now he met the young man's eyes and asked, "Are these terms acceptable, ser?"

He couldn't help but feel slightly petty... But the fact that he knew Divina was watching made him want to show off, and knowing she was near allayed any fears he had of losing control... Again, petty and he knew it.

 

[Erren Serris]

To any not distracted by the display of blind bravado from the two men seeking all the attention, the sight of a man being led down a quiet alleyway by a woman would have been the definition of suspicious. It wasn't uncommon in many cities for attractive ladies to lure single-minded men to a quiet and unoccupied space before springing an ambush and relieving them of their worldly possessions.

Erren too considered this, but he was no fool.

The former Maester had known from the moment their eyes had met that Niobe Miller was not entirely who she seemed to be. The decades he'd spent studying the arcane and the mysteries of the world were not in vain; there was something simply off about her, a distinct aura around her that didn't speak to any ordinary mortal he'd ever met.

Serris slid between passersby, his eyes focused only on the mysterious woman in front of him. While others with his experience would likely have been wary of the possibility that his new acquaintance was more than what she seemed, and rightfully so, Erren wasn't concerned in the slightest; Being a creature of any abnormality did not make you hostile, and even if this were some kind of trap, Erren was a powerful mage, and had hinted at that to her as well. She would know he would be no easy target by now.

So any suspicions were stuffed aside. Unless Niobe gave him reason to worry, he would not. Shuffling into the backdoor, he offers Miss Miller a polite bow before ducking into the washroom. The place was not one with ill intent painted on the walls-- if something unholy happened within this building, it would leave a stench that Serris simply couldn't detect. Sliding the clothes he wore from the waist up off of his body, he took a bit of time to scrub them in the water of the basin offered. The fitting black undershirt was clean, but the navy blue finery he wore over it was too wet to be comfortable in. The top would have to do,

He slung the damp clothes over his shoulder and left to meet Niobe several doors down.

Niobe Miller

 

[Niobe Miller]

When the washroom door closed, Niobe uttered a long sigh. Truth be told, something about the man unsettled her. Was it someone who would recognize her mortal guise from Elbion? Perhaps someone who knew the owner of this face in its' previous life, before it was gifted to her? She wasn't sure, and she wasn't easy with the uncertainty. But still...

Some loaves were still resting on the shelves, and she began collecting them more carefully, mindful to wrap one separate from the rest. They still steamed in the evening air, and she shuffled closer to them, closing her eyes to savor the warmth of her bakery and the smell of pumpkin and spices. Truly, Alliria was a rich place for her to buy her staples so cheaply. But part of her still ached for home.

And that Erren fellow...

She felt her cheeks blush hotly, and she quickly covered them with her hands, unwittingly dusting more flour on them. "Why are some mortal men always so handsome?" she groaned, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her palms. "Bad enough he got dusted, but he had to be nice too!" Truthfully, she was used to being looked down on by the merchants and their ilk; most had their breads baked in their lavish homes, but occasionally she'd have rush orders for cakes and other expensive sweets to deliver to some lordly manor.

Turning around swiftly to pour some coffee, she groaned again, remembering how she stuttered her way through a polite greeting. If Elias were alive, he'd be laughing at her and teasing her about her naive ways of the mortal world. But their ways were so strange! How could she not be curious?

Still, as he would approach the bakery door, he'd hear her mutter to herself, "Why did he have to be so damn attractive? Patently unfair, I tell you!" The naiad wagged a finger at a copper kettle, then bustled again to set up the bread and coffee on a small table her assistant jokingly called her "waiting board". Various pans and bowls waiting to be washed, sketched ideas stuffed into a tiny blue binder set to overflowing, and another copper kettle, now filled with hot coffee.


"Probably should have started with the dishes this morn," she muttered absently, picking at a nail nervously and staring at the precarious pile. "But it never bloody ends!"

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

There was a slight pause as Erren laid his hand on the old door, not meant in the slightest to muffle voices. Niobe seemed to be having a conversation with herself in the room beyond, and the topic was yours truly. A small smile played on his lips at the rather flattering dialogue; it had been long since anybody had said such things about him. In Erren's mind, he was far beyond the age of an eligible bachelor.

Not being one for eavesdropping though, The Mage cleared his throat as he pushed the door open and entered the bakery, the smell of Niobe's work hitting his nostrils almost immediately. A thousand delightful scents seemed to weave their way through his body at once, and it only added to the cozy, homely feel the bakery had, a far cry from his home of Elbion, where everything had to be extravagant.

"Ah, Miss Miller, you can certainly find better than an old wash-up like me." He chuckled as he slid his way in. "Though you're no eyesore yourself, I'd be doing you a disservice." The man added with a small wink. It wasn't that Erren was lacking in confidence. No, it was more that his life wasn't one that gave him reason to think he could entertain such thoughts. There were too many who wanted him dead, at this point. "Nevertheless, Sorry to keep you waiting."

Erren threw his coat over the back of a chair as he took a look around, admiring the humbleness of the place. He much preferred it that way. "Quite the lovely little spot you have for yourself here. Reminds me of the place I grew up, before we came into money." It was funny how simple things had seemed back then, before the disappearance of Leon and his own acceptance into the College.

Taking a deep breath, he looked towards Niobe with a smile. "Smells divine in here. Is that plate for us?" He fixed his gaze on the 'waiting table'. "Because suddenly I feel as though I'm famished."

Niobe Miller

 

[Niobe Miller]

When he cleared his throat, she all but jumped out of her skin. The breadboard she had been wiping off suddenly clattered, and she let out a little gasp when she wheeled around. Blue eyes, ringed with green, widened, and she flushed again, picking it up and placing it on a countertop that seemed overloaded with freshly baked things.

"Ah! Ser Erren!" She cleared her throat, wiping her hands down her apron front. "Sorry, didn't hear you coming. You've got feet lighter than a featherfall." Still, when he winked at her, a small, shy smile touched her lips, and she ducked her head.

"Pshaw. Now you're having me on. I'm older than you think, you know," came the light reply, offering her own wink and chuckling. "Besides, this is the Harvest Moon. Allow yourself to relax, and believe in..." she paused, then slowed down. A small sliver of nostalgia softened her smile, as she glanced down at her apron, smoothing it out.

"Allow yourself to believe in things you usually don't and indulge often. That's what my old business partner used to say." Still, his praise was a song to her ears, especially after working so hard to earn even a small storefront like this. "Many thanks! I've worked hard on it. And yes," she bustled over to the table, carefully moving aside some more boards, and what seemed like a few personal dishes, collecting a few recipes into the small blue book. One of them slipped free from its' binding and slid to Erren's foot, but unlike most recipes, this seemed to be a diagram of a plant, written in foreign hand.

She didn't notice, busy as she was. "Indeed! Hearty, warm food, good for a chilly night and coffee; I can't linger, but it's nice to breathe once in a while." She placed down two mugs, and a bread knife. "Now be honest; I know there are many vendors with similar foods, but I've altered the ratios a bit, tell me what you think?"

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

"Allow yourself to believe in things you usually don't and indulge often."

A thoughtful expression rested on Erren's face as she recited the adage to him. There was very little that Erren didn't believe in, not when he so often found himself staring fantastical and otherworldly beings in the eyes just to keep his livelihood. The smile on his face lingered, even as she hurried to ready their food and drink. The tired eyes set in his skull traveled from her as she turned away, down briefly to the scrap of paper resting against his shoe.

Quietly, he bent over to retrieve it. Whatever language it was written in wasn't something he was familiar with, although it had some similarity to older tomes kept in the Elbion College from before the common tongue became the norm. Perhaps, Erren mused, Miss Miller was being far more on the nose with her commentary on age than he'd given her credit.

"If you ask me, Niobe..." Alyx folded the paper and leaned down to place it back on the floor where he'd found it. "Anything you can bring yourself to believe in has the capacity to be reality." Of course, the idea of taking it for study was appealing... but theft was not. Besides, if this lovely creature was more than she seemed and wished to hide that fact, bringing it anywhere near the college would put her cover here at risk. No, he would relax. He would indulge. Whatever enjoyment Erren could get out of the day, he would seize if only for a night.

By the time Niobe would turn back around, Erren would have seated himself, a grin as warm as the room they currently sharing together spreading his lips as he leaned back in his seat. She was just as easy on the eyes as she claimed him to be, and if Erren had just enough drink in his belly to enjoy the kind of interaction with somebody else he never really got to have anymore. Slicing some of the bread off cleanly at the end, he pops a sizable chunk of it into his mouth, chewing it a bit before washing it down with what was provided in the mug.

Erren had never lived here, or in any bakery for that matter, but the only way he could describe the taste was that it tasted like home. It was strange, the nostalgic feeling that washed over him for something he had no history with. Wiping his mouth gently, he glanced to Miller. "Now, I haven't had many of the vendors around here, granted..." Taking one more sip, he placed the mug in front of him. "But that's divine. Just as warm as everything else about you."

Niobe Miller

 

[Divina Rosenstern]

It seemed the youth that challenged Tzuriel lost his nerve. The crowd rumbled their discontent of the braggart and his swaggering nonsense, and in fact one man clapped the youth on the back, helpfully leading him towards the ale casks. After all, what was a party without some ale and dancing?

Meanwhile, Divina chuckled, and unwound the scarf from her throat, tying it around a close post. Within it would be written a note for Tzuriel; however, the party was beginning to pick up.

Redolent spices filled the air, as a circus trope filtered in with the crowd. Brightly colored jesters capered with sad-looking clowns, a bear balanced a ball on its' nose while a mermaid swam with her Triton husband in a tank hastily set up for display. Bright calliope music began to compete with the small band Divina had rented for the whole festival, which was their cue to pick up the pace.

All the while, mist began to swirl up from the harbor, and began to lap at the ankles of passerby. Some things lurked within; the veil was thinning between worlds, if one believed in such superstitions. But Divina was mindless to it, merely waiting on her lover with her heart in her mouth.

 

[Niobe Miller]

Now, Niobe wasn't too many things. She wasn't particularly witty nor clever, she thought, nor the smartest baker on the block. But sharing something she made, and seeing that look--- satisfaction, though more than that, an ability to pause, to relax and enjoy, made her especially happy. And seeing her new companion also get that same look brought on an echoing warmth in her chest; she had the mug to her lips, observing him, when his comment suddenly made her almost choke on her mouthful of coffee.

Just barely managing not to splatter herself with the hot liquid, she set the mug down, trying to cough discretely behind her hand. "I-is that so?" she asked hoarsely, blinking. "High praise indeed! Dunno if I deserve it all though," she deferred, but he would see the proud tilt to her smile as she cut the next slice.

"What brings you all the way here, though, if you'll pardon some friendly curiosity?" Thankfully, the coughing had subsided enough for her to gain some measure of pride back, but it wouldn't be very long-lived. On land, she was constantly clumsy and tongue-tied; it was even harder with a handsome stranger paying her such compliments.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren would shrug at her dismissal of his praise, taking another long drink from his cup as he crossed a leg over his knee. "If we don't give ourselves credit where it's due, we do ourselves the highest disservice." It was something he'd told his students, especially the ones who struggled with believing in themselves; there is a fundamental difference between confidence and cockiness. You will not succeed if you do not give yourself the respect you deserve.

Tearing another bite from the bread with his fork, the man's eyes drifted to Niobe's face, the smile hidden behind her hand told him all that he needed to know, and he matched it with his own smirk. "I think you know just how good you are, but your modesty is adorable." He chuckled and popped the bite of bread into his mouth as she asked him about his reasons for being here.

Normally, and he got this question often, he wouldn't be able to say too much due to the nature of his work. On this occasion, however, Erren had come to The Shallows in an off-duty capacity. That let his tongue fly a tad bit looser.

"A rare chance to take a load off and enjoy some fun before heading back to work is all. I so scantly get the chance to relax that I couldn't resist. Now I'm glad I didn't." He tilts his drink towards her with a wink. "I'm an investigator of sorts. I deal with disasters of the magical variety. Rouge mages, runaway elementals, spells gone crazy. You name it."

Niobe Miller

 

[Tzuriel Alanthis]

It seemed the youth that challenged Tzuriel lost his nerve. The crowd rumbled their discontent of the braggart and his swaggering nonsense, and in fact one man clapped the youth on the back, helpfully leading him towards the ale casks. After all, what was a party without some ale and dancing?

Meanwhile, Divina chuckled, and unwound the scarf from her throat, tying it around a close post. Within it would be written a note for Tzuriel; however, the party was beginning to pick up.

Tzuriel shrugged to the crowd as the comical man withdrew his challenge and was led away.
Then he strode into the crowd and began hunting his quarry... And cunning fox she was!

First he spotted the rose. There she is!
But another lady had picked it up and was busy arranging it into her hair.

Tzuriel moved on.

The flip of her cloak caught his eye. There she is!
But before he reached out for her he saw it was around the shoulders of a different young lady.
Such a cunning fox! Leading him on such a precarious trail of moving people.

Tzuriel moved on.

Her basket and it's contents did not fool him, but he followed it's trail.

Tzuriel moved on.

Redolent spices filled the air, as a circus troupe filtered in with the crowd. Brightly colored jesters capered with sad-looking clowns, a bear balanced a ball on its nose while a mermaid swam with her Triton husband in a tank hastily set up for display. Bright calliope music began to compete with the small band Divina had rented for the whole festival, which was their cue to pick up the pace.

All the while, mist began to swirl up from the harbor, and began to lap at the ankles of passerby. Some things lurked within; the veil was thinning between worlds, if one believed in such superstitions. But Divina was mindless to it, merely waiting on her lover with her heart in her mouth.

Aha! Her scarf! Tied to a post and a flag for him to see. He took the scarf and found the note tied within.
Her scent was still fresh on the scarf, she wasn't far!
His heart leapt at the victory!

He smiled to himself as he unfolded the note and read it.