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Post by Guest on Aug 4, 2010 22:29:14 GMT -5
“Yes, Delain: you seem so very fond of giving orders. Please indulge her with the same courtesies you gave me in our time together and speak to her as if she has no value.” He quirked an eyebrow – something he started to do quite often the past few days, it seemed. For all her talk and emphasis on etiquette, the young woman certainly behaved like a child when angry at somebody. At least he didn’t put up a pretense of manners. The man sighed, in no mood to intentionally incite her further – there was work to do.
“There is important work to do vital to our comfort and survival, and I am the only one experienced in such things out here. My directions are to the point and as clear as I can make them to save us time while still doing the job right, nothing more. I value efficiency in tasks, and we all need to pull our weight out here. If you wish to mistake that as a lack of respect for you and Liv, well… It’s not, but that is your choice to make.” Considering the cloaked woman’s mood, he doubted anything he said wouldn’t incense her right now, but he knew no other clear and concise way to explain himself without wasting more time and words.
He turned to Olivie, “As for the fire – no. Without ventilation, a fire inside the cave causes too much smoke to inhale, especially for the bird. A fire pit just outside the cave will do. Away from the blanket, obviously.” He rummaged through his cart and located his trowel. Crouching down by the ground outside the entrance, Delain eyeballed the distance and determined it close enough to provide warmth, but far enough away to not accidentally catch the blanket aflame. The woodcutter stuck the trowel into the earth and began uprooting the few clumps of grass in the dirt. Glancing at Olivie, he continued, “I’ll dig. The two of you can go find some large rocks or wet logs. We’ll need it for the pit walls to control the fire and protect it from any winds.” Not waiting for a response, the elf returned to his task – focused on his work as always, regardless of the job.
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Post by Guest on Aug 5, 2010 6:33:33 GMT -5
“Yes, Delain: you seem so very fond of giving orders. Please indulge her with the same courtesies you gave me in our time together and speak to her as if she has no value.” No blood. No screaming. But that woman just did not know when to stop. Olivie's desire to pull the group together waned. Delain knew Olivie's value better than anyone. She knew who to talk to in Lydes, she knew how to send silent signals to Leliana, and she had no problem killing any assassins that might attack the group. Did it matter how he spoke to her?
“…especially for the bird.” Olivie nodded thoughtfully as Delain gave new instructions. She set down the fire starting material out of Delain's way and on dry ground before turning to Kaiera. "Of course, the little one. My apologies, I had failed to remember how the smoke would impact a smaller creature." Deciding she had nothing else to add to the situation, she set about her next task.
The cave would not have many loose stones, Olivie decided, or Delain would be concerned about a cave-in. Therefore the better bet would be to search for appropriately wet things by the water. Not being a manmade fountain, the edge of the pond had little critters and bugs that depended on the water for life and the ground was softer due to the water. She wondered if Kaiera was such a delicate flower that she would refuse to step in a slightly swampy area or touch something with worms crawling in it. Refocusing on the task, she gave priority to any stones and rocks that she could find and grabbed a thoroughly soaked log of wood to drag back.
"That song… the one you were humming with Peko," Olivie said quietly to Kaiera. "Leliana taught me that song. A long time ago now." Maybe distracting the elf from her annoyances would make her pleasant? Probably not, Olivie couldn't think of a time when that woman had been pleasant, but it was worth a try. "Now before you go insulting her again, which I would strongly caution against, she was pretty amazing. She could sing and dance," often at the same time, "she was happy and nice to almost everyone, and she loved to tell stories. ... Loves. Loves to tell stories." Olivie caught herself talking about Leliana in the past tense. She isn't dead. Not yet. I don't think she is, at least.
I hope not.
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Post by Guest on Aug 5, 2010 13:06:53 GMT -5
Was it really so arduous to emit a simple please and thank you when delegating orders to another? She did not feel it pride, but simple protocol -- and would simply not allow someone to spout orders at her as if she were placed at this campsite only to appease him.
“The two of you can go find some large rocks or wet logs. We’ll need it for the pit walls to control the fire and protect it from any winds."
"Fine." Even more so if it will remove me from your company.
Kaiera followed the human back to the pond, a logical place to look for wet items to place around the campfire. The noise that her boots made against the softened ground was more unpleasant than the actual feel of it; there had been other living inhabitants around and in the water as well, but she did not mind them. How could she fault them for living there?
If anything, I am the intruder.
Carefully picking around various worms who squirmed almost uselessly in the soggy dirt, she prepared herself for the earth that would cake in her nails and started her search, easily finding a stone with a small slug on its bottom.
"That song… the one you were humming with Peko," Again, a companion who so regularly leaned toward quiet had engaged her in conversation; the elf had to wonder if the two had devised some plan of sorts to try and talk to her when alone as she gently shook the rock to disengage its slimy occupant.
For now, the very least she could do was indulge the human: Olivie certainly had to be more tolerable than that inept man they left behind and she did at least know, from talks past, the woman was adequate at it.
Sliding the slug safely to the ground, Kaiera gave her a sideward glance, the action only enforcing the sense of curiosity she wished to convey. “Yes…?” Perhaps more than praise will come from this.
"Leliana taught me that song.” The thief? “A long time ago now."
Olivie’s voice, as per usual, became softer when she invoked the other woman’s name, always with certain reverence that only confirmed their familiarity. And the human had saved her much time by making their topic about the one she sought: there was an opening, now, one that could be used and expanded with tact and gentle word.
When compelled, she could be quite the master at both.
“‘Il pleure dans mon coeur’…” Guiding her tone, it echoed the human's softness, “‘It Weeps in My Heart’; a bittersweet thing, happy and sad all at once.”
In truth, it was supposed to be hopeful: a person very much in love, but lover away. They had both promised to be faithful, but the song did not tell you of their fate; only of the longing of the other, the happiness of newly found love and the despondency that came without the one whom stirred it. The elf had personally invoked the tune for Peko alone: so close to the outside world, almost able to touch it, but held at bay by bars. To be taunted by an unattainable freedom; the sweet torture of almost – that is why she hummed for him.
Kaiera rose to her full height and turned her face to her. “You said she taught you this song; it is not often a song is shared without purpose. Was your friend in such a state when she taught it to you?” Personal, but useful: questions were the lifeblood of any exchange; Olivie had shown she did not favor them, but perhaps the topic of this Leliana would make her lips more willing.
"Now before you go insulting her again, which I would strongly caution against,” Even now, so protective! The elf hid her smile as she bent down to obtain a damp block of wood, “she was pretty amazing. She could sing and dance, she was happy and nice to almost everyone,” The exception being those she steals from… “and she loved to tell stories. ... Loves. Loves to tell stories."
Kaiera had caught rapid switch of tenses and the distress that brushed against the other’s expression and sought to placate it. “I would think her very winning,” Cunning. “to have inspired such loyalty from both of you…But you mentioned her love of stories before, yes? What sort of tales did she tell?” Innocent questions with underlying intent; she would only bring up topics the woman revealed to learn what she could about the bard.
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Post by Guest on Aug 5, 2010 14:01:21 GMT -5
Though the women remained close enough by for Delain to hear much of their conversation, his entire attention remained zoned in on digging – causing their words to reach his ears, but his mind not registering them. The only bit of concentration he allowed to drift was to keep an ear out for anything strange noises – any potential threats. Despite the apparent importance of this object they sought, he doubted anyone pursued them personally. At least, not related to the trinket. Bandits rarely roamed this particular stretch of road, and his scouting of the area showed no signs of large, predatory animals – nor any territorial small ones. Still, it never hurt to keep oneself prepared for disaster, least it catch one unaware.
His focus rewarded the elf with a quick job; by the time the women returned with rocks and logs, the Dalish already reached the near foot depth he desired, though not quite the width yet. Of course, the softness of the soil so close to the pond owed part of the speed in which he dug. He glanced up from his work, nodding to the ground beside his growing pit. “Thanks. Over there.” He returned to his digging. “If you brought cooking supplies with you, best to get them out. Otherwise, I have my own.” Completing his digging, Delain picked up the wet logs and small rocks, arranging them into a wall around the pit to reinforce the sides. Finishing this step, he took the last of the rocks and covered the bottom, ensuring the fire had a dry base.
Soon the elf tossed the grass and sticks into the pit. Rummaging through his belt pouches, he found his quartzite and pocketknife. Striking the blade against the gem, he soon started a spark. After a few more scrapes, a spark caught on the kindling, and he carefully blew on the fire until it ignited. Leaning back from the campfire, he observed his work and scanned for any errors or potential problems later. Finding none, he nodded, satisfied.
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Post by Guest on Aug 5, 2010 14:49:00 GMT -5
“You said she taught you this song; it is not often a song is shared without purpose. Was your friend in such a state when she taught it to you?” Kaiera had asked while she continuing along their task dutifully if not begrudgingly.
“No? I don’t think so, at least." Olivie reflected for a moment. Was Leliana happy and sad? No, she decided. Leli had not seen the betrayal coming. Maybe in the six years since everything went sour the bard would have found herself with bittersweet feelings, but not before. "Leliana is difficult to explain until you get to know her. She likes to share, particularly things like the arts since she loves them so much. You have already expressed disapproval for what she does but there is more to her than that.” Olivie thought and then remarked, “I suppose that is what makes a person interesting… who they are being more than what they do.”
Kaiera danced around the topic, looking for an interesting angle. “I would think her very winning to have inspired such loyalty from both of you…But you mentioned her love of stories before, yes? What sort of tales did she tell?”
Olivie nodded somberly. “Someone who can inspire both a lunatic and a curmudgeon to abandon their lives and rush across the country to just in case she is unwell? Yes, she is quite a person. And stories…” Olivie frowned a little and tried to categorize Leliana’s tales. “I don’t know how to describe them. She can tell stories with morals or legacies, of daring adventures and far off places, of history and battles… She loves all kinds of stories.”
They returned to Delain with their finds and he appeared to find them acceptable. Olivie appreciated Delain’s acute awareness to what was going on around them as it allowed her to relax a little. He was the hunter, and she trusted his senses in this setting more than her own. It was the only way she could keep herself from jumping out of her skin at every gust of wind. “If you brought cooking supplies with you, best to get them out,” he suggested. She nodded in response and retrieved their cooking pot and took a little bit of food out of her pack to warm up for dinner.
Olivie gingerly resumed the previous conversation, hoping to include Delain in her idea. “I brought it up because I thought maybe we might all share some stories as we travel. At least it would be more pleasant conversation than what we tried last night.” Olivie found her observation amusing but did not visibly react. A knife in the ear would be more pleasant than last night’s conversation.
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Post by Guest on Aug 8, 2010 2:30:55 GMT -5
"Leliana is difficult to explain until you get to know her. She likes to share,” The word was noticeably stressed. She is either very open or a pretender. One would certainly be more inclined to arms spread wide with welcome than fists clenched with malice. “particularly things like the arts since she loves them so much.” It was a detail that would be kept in mind. “You have already expressed disapproval for what she does but there is more to her than that.” A pause; perchance for thought? The other’s silences were so normal an occurrence; her intents were not easily labeled. “I suppose that is what makes a person interesting… who they are being more than what they do.”
“Yet, actions speak far louder than words.”
Though she remained unconvinced, despite excuses provided, Kaiera kept her tone neutral, it more matter of fact than judgmental.
“Someone who can inspire both a lunatic and a curmudgeon to abandon their lives and rush across the country to just in case she is unwell? Yes, she is quite a person.”
Of course; how else could such a motley assortment come together? Affected were both the odd human and the gruff guide – and even without meeting her – the woman guided her steps, having in her possession the very thing that would grant her true freedom. All of this, however, was mere sense: this Leliana was a bard, and from what Kaiera now gathered and combined with previous knowledge, the thief was not to be taken lightly, lest she become one of her thralls.
"And stories…” She looked up just in time to witness Olivie frown. “I don’t know how to describe them. She can tell stories with morals or legacies, of daring adventures and far off places, of history and battles… She loves all kinds of stories.”
It was an additional mental note she tucked away in the recesses of her mind: the bard had a fondness for stories – how fitting. When they would ultimately meet, perhaps this could be used to great benefit; a smoother transition from stranger to acquaintance was always valuable.
Locking away any other questions that she now had about the woman so as not to appear too eager, the elf, after dipping them in the pond’s water, collected all the stones she had found and single log before following Olivie back to the still digging man
“Thanks.” The man’s gratitude was astonishing. “Over there.” His accompanying directive was not. “If you brought cooking supplies with you, best to get them out. Otherwise, I have my own.”
Kaiera knew personally of the cooking equipment they stocked being the procurer of such herself back in the markets, and also that they were of fine quality since she knew exactly what to look for. It was something prided, her skills learned in the kitchen not born of necessity, but a genuine interest that brought simple pleasures – it even developed into an enjoyable pastime.
While Olivie went to fetch their supplies, the elf turned away as well to gather the remaining basket given to her by the Imp owner. The first had sustained her on the journey, but the second contained less rapidly perishable items such as bound cheeses, fruits, jams, rolls, and wine.
“Here is what I provide.” She turned and presented the basket to them both, sharpened knife and spoon in free hand. “The innkeeper was gracious enough to part with a few, satisfactory items that would easily present us with a lighter dish before our main course. I am sure, with a little creativity, I could even prep a desert for afterward.”
She did not know why she was suddenly more agreeable; perchance it was a feeling of some modest grasp of accomplishment from gathering more information on her target; or perhaps it was the strong fact that despite what her surroundings would or would not allow, the elf would not abandon the statutes of a proper meal.
Both hold weight.
Olivie then began to speak, albeit warily, to her, though clearly giving the man an invitation to join. “I brought it up because I thought maybe we might all share some stories as we travel. At least it would be more pleasant conversation than what we tried last night.”
Stories? The concept was laughable. Stories, in her mind, were things reserved only for those adept at sharing them: here the elf had a man whom sullied his every declaration with an uncouth nature and a woman whom, while more adept at speaking, did so at such queer intervals that she had no passable rhythm. It was only until the thief’s adoration for stories was recalled, that Kaiera viewed the act as slightly functional; the human’s suggestion had to be established from thoughts of her friend, perhaps she would share a tale that the bard told her, giving more detail to the blurry image. And even if not granted such, it would, at the very least, prove wonderfully entertaining.
“A reasonable suggestion…” She cocked her head to the side slightly as if conceding the point, “Very well. It will not do to be at odds for the entirety of our journey: let us see if we can mend these bridges with well chosen word and riveting tale.”
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Post by Guest on Aug 8, 2010 21:34:22 GMT -5
As the women gathered cooking materials, Delain took the longest remaining dampened sticks and fashioned them into a tripod with a piece of his scrap rope. He affixed the device to the earth, over the fire. He retrieved the pot from Olivie and without comment, strode the few dozen steps to the pond and dipped the pot into the water. Checking for any small fish, moss or other unwanted objects, the elf found none and walked back to the campsite. By now the sun disappeared over the distant trees and hills, red and orange still flooding the skies the only hint of its existence. Despite their brightness, the area darkened as night crept closer, the campfire quickly becoming the main source of illumination for the trio. This increasing darkness caused him to almost step into a hole – almost. Spotting it in time, Delain sidestepped it and gave it a quick inspection. A rabbit burrow, but shallow and abandoned. Nothing to worry about.
He returned as Kaiera presented a basket, “The innkeeper was gracious enough to part with a few, satisfactory items that would easily present us with a lighter dish before our main course. I am sure, with a little creativity, I could even prep a desert for afterward.”
Delain nodded, pulling the pot’s handle up and over the apex of the tripod, settling it into place to hang it over the fire. Gesturing in a “go ahead” manner at the other elf, he spoke, “If you have the materials and the desire, by all means, be creative.” While dessert held little survival value, there was no harm in a little luxury on the road from time to time; so long as more vital supplies weren’t sacrificed in the making of such luxuries, he saw little reason to protest it. “The water will take a while to boil, so something to nibble on isn’t a bad idea. Just remember to save some of it if it’s not immediately perishable. Never know when food will become scarce on the road.”
Seeing the knife and spoon in the woman’s hand, Delain motioned towards his cart, “I don’t have a cutting board, but feel free to clear space on the cart or use a crate as a base to cut food, if you need it.” Larger rocks also worked for such things, but saw none big enough close by – beyond the one he currently sat upon, at least. Personally, he usually just tore apart pieces of food he needed, but understood if the women preferred knives. Though gruff and terse with directions and conversation, he was hardly rude enough to just snatch a roll from Kaiera’s basket without asking; he never took from others without permission. “May I?”
Ignoring her apparent surprise, Delain instead waited for her permission and once given, took a roll and tore off a small piece, eating. As he finished the bread, he checked the water and saw it begin to heat, though far from boiling. His attention on even that small task caused him to almost miss Olivie’s next comment, “I thought maybe we might all share some stories as we travel. At least it would be more pleasant conversation than what we tried last night.”
Though the Dalish kept his lips neutral, no personal restraint could keep the spark from lighting his eyes. Stories? He loved storytelling, both the listening and the telling! Perhaps the only time the woodcutter enjoyed speaking, in fact! Kaiera spoke first before he asserted his accord.
“Very well. It will not do to be at odds for the entirety of our journey: let us see if we can mend these bridges with well chosen word and riveting tale.”
Keeping most of his excitement out of his voice and movements, Delain nodded in agreement. “Indeed. I am always open to a good tale.” Thinking back on the empty rabbit hole, a particular story ignited his memory, “In fact, if there is no opposition, a story already comes to mind. One of the many tales my mother used to tell me.” Waiting a few moments and noting no disagreements from his companions, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. Taking a gulp from his water skin, the elf cleared his throat and began.
“Back when the world was young, Rabbit had a very long, beautiful, bushy tail. In fact, his splendid tail put Fox’s to shame.” His voice lowered, but lost much of its usual gruffness as the elven man motioned his fingers to indicate a thick tail. “Now, Rabbit was quite proud of his tail, to the point of haughtiness. He constantly bragged to all the other animals, gloating over the beauty of his tail. Eventually, Fox tired of this boasting and decided to end Rabbit’s bragging once and for all.”
Continuing, Delain emphasized his tale with slight gestures and changes in tone at all the proper moments, “At this time, Winter quickly approached. Biding his time, Fox waited until it grew so cold that the waters in the lake and streams froze. Several days later, he strode down to the lake, four fish slung over his shoulder. Arriving at the lake, Fox cut open a hole in the ice and tied the four fish to his tail and waited.”
The man waved his arm in a mimicry of hopping, “Before long, Rabbit bounded over the top of the ridge. Spotting Rabbit, Fox quickly dipped his tail into the icy water. Hopping up to Fox, Rabbit cocked his head," Delain did the same, "and inquired, ‘What are you doing, Fox?’ Fox simply answered, ‘I'm fishing.’ Perplexed, Rabbit prodded further, ‘With your tail?’ Nonchalantly, Fox replied, ‘Why not? It’s the very best way to catch the most fish.’”
Pausing only a second, Delain glanced at the water and noted no signs of a full boil yet. “Somewhat skeptical, Rabbit asked Fox how long he had been fishing. Lying, Fox shrugged, ‘Perhaps… Fifteen minutes or so?’ Not long at all, Rabbit figured. Not expecting much, he continued his questions, ‘Have you caught any fish yet?’ In answer, Fox pulled up his tail, revealing the four fish hanging on it.”
“Impressed, Rabbit noted, ‘That is a fine catch! More than you need to eat, surely. What will you do with the extras?’ Fox pretended to ponder a moment before responding, ‘Well, it’s true I don’t need many fish to eat well. However, with enough I can go down to the Dalish camped nearby and trade them for a pair of beautiful tail combs. There is only one set of tail combs left and I really want them.’ Fox could see that Rabbit was thinking, and, as he suspected, the other creature plotted to fish and obtain the combs for himself.”
“Satisfied the trap was set, Fox said, ‘It's getting late and I'm cold. I think I'll come back and fish some more in the morning.’ Bidding Rabbit farewell, Fox bounded off and over the ridge." Again, Delain used his hands to demonstrate movement. “The moment Fox disappeared from view, Rabbit dropped his tail down into the icy water of the lake. The water sent shivers up his spine and chilled the small animal to the core! But Rabbit persisted, thinking, ‘Oh, no. I want those tail combs more than anything!’ And so he steeled his will, remaining seated and fished all night long.”
“Soon after dawn rose, Fox loped over the top of the ridge and strode right up to Rabbit. Casually, he asked, ‘What are ya doing there, Rabbit?’ Rabbit’s teeth chattered, ‘I'm ffffissshing, Fffox.’ Fox resisted a smirk and persisted, ‘Any luck with the fish?’ Eager to warm up and check, Rabbit attempted to rise. However, the water had frozen solid once more overnight, and he found he couldn't budge. Shivering, he pleaded, ‘F-f-fox you've g-gott to helppp me. I'mma s-s-stttuck.’” Delain chattered his own teeth, rubbing his shoulders in a pantomime of shivering.
“Fox, grinning from ear to ear, stalked behind Rabbit. With great force, he gave Rabbit one mighty shove. Careful not to accidentally knock over the pot nor hit one of the other travelers, Delain shoved his own hands out into the open air, “Rabbit popped! out of that hole and flew clear across the lake, sliding to a stop on the other end. However, his tail remained stuck in the frozen water, leaving on a small fuzzy stump on his rear. And that's why to this day, rabbits have such short, stubby tails.”
Finished with his tale, Delain finally noticed how dry his mouth felt. Without waiting for commentary from his audience, he drank from his container again. Putting the water skin away, the elf noticed the water finally boiled. Again refraining from comment, he began collecting the ingredients from their available stores to start cooking a simple stew.
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Post by Guest on Aug 9, 2010 6:35:37 GMT -5
Kaiera suddenly turned pleasant enough, offering the treats that the innkeeper had given her. She contemplated dessert and gave at least a mild approval of Olivie's storytelling plan. Delain took things a step further and assisted with dinner preparation and told a story of his own! Olivie had been enraptured by the story, committing each word to memory like she used to listen to Leliana's stories. For a bard, it was not enough to hear the words of a good storyteller. They were transported to the place in the story and dedicated themselves to being able to find their way back to that place, so that they might someday take others there as well.
The entire group actually getting along was of little consequence to Olivie. She understood the realities of life and that sometimes people just will not like one another. But if the entire group could pretend to do so, or at least have a dash of civility towards one another, the journey would go so much smoother. Leli would have been pleased, she decided, that stories were enough to bring this motley crew a little bit of peace on the first night. So far, at least. The night is young, Olivie supposed.
She did not know what to say next. She was concerned about upsetting the very delicate balance that the group had managed to strike by uttering a sound. She gave Delain an appreciative look since he had been a good sport and spoke when his throat was already parched.
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Post by Guest on Aug 9, 2010 21:49:34 GMT -5
“Just remember to save some of it if it’s not immediately perishable. Never know when food will become scarce on the road.”
It had to be considered a gift how, with only speech; the man could so effortlessly sour her mood. “I have been told several times now of our circumstance, yet am reminded as if the precautions will spill from my head.” Kaiera motioned to the basket. “There is hardly enough here to feed us on more than one occasion: let us make the best of it.”
“I don’t have a cutting board, but feel free to clear space on the cart or use a crate as a base to cut food, if you need it.”
Kaiera stared at the man. “Yes; let us prepare foods on surfaces we know nothing of hygienically. Shall I sprinkle the food with earth afterward?” Remembering that she was at least attempting peace, if only to encourage Olivie to tell her tale, she waved his suggestion off. “I have a cutting board; you only need worry on your pot of water.”
After allowing him a roll, a reward for his unexpected use of decorum, the elf turned back to her pack after agreeing to this story time they were to have, gathering the aforementioned cutting board along with a suitable bowl and potato smasher.
“Indeed. I am always open to a good tale.” Are you? The man had managed another surprise: out of the two of them, she thought Olivie would open with a story since it was her suggestion, “In fact, if there is no opposition, a story already comes to mind. One of the many tales my mother used to tell me.”
While it was all but clear, her dislike for the other elf, there was a small vein of curiosity that still lingered, originating from their first meeting and his garish head wrapping: did he, indeed, have a connection to the Dalish – was he one formerly? She knew so little of substance about them, but one treasure she had discovered was their love of elven lore. Culture literally stripped from them during enslavement, it delighted her to know end that these clans of elves delved tirelessly for their history – perhaps, if he was Dalish – she could learn something she had not been given the privilege to learn any other way.
Though the man did well not to show any physical signs of eagerness, the fact that his voice appeared to at least try to sound somewhat more pleasing to the ear was enough to make her think otherwise. This is a story precious to him.
“Back when the world was young…” Anticipation trickled through her: this did not sound like an Orlesian beginning, flamboyant and dramatic, but had more of an antiquated feel, a fragile thing to be handled with care as it was passed down through generations.
As he continued his tale, Kaiera set herself to managing everything that did not need the aid of fire to create. She first made her way back to the pond, the other elf’s words still in earshot, and avoided any living or otherwise unneeded additions as she gathered water into her bowl; enough to wash both fruits and hands before she began. Resting the bowl down on his cart, she unclasped her cloak and smoothed it across a cleared space in the back of the cart, placing cutting board and utensils on it; next came the basket, a smile persuading her lips as the delicious aromas met her nose and the colors pleased her eyes.
Apples and raspberries! A delectable combination! The elf knew personally that with a red wine, such as the one she had been given, raspberries paired beautifully. Perhaps the owner is Orlesian after all….
“At this time, Winter quickly approached…”
Though a crisp, juicy apple would be a refreshing yet light treat as well, she had other plans for the tasty fruit. Apprehending the small bundle of raspberries, she carefully inspected and immersed each one into the water, cleaning it dutifully before cleanly halving each one and preparing it as a topping for the cheese.
Kaiera picked on a whim from the two concealed slices, and her smile grew. What beautiful brie. It was a popular native and while common, she was still very much appreciative of its presence as it had such wonderful flavor. Its smooth taste will compliment the wine.
“‘What are you doing, Fox?’ Fox simply answered, ‘I'm fishing.’”
Delicately cutting a reasonably thick sliver of cheese as she turned it on its side, her fingers clutched for the wooden potato smasher, lightly pressing the circular base against the brie before revolving her knife about it, producing perfect circles. She repeated this method until there were eight circular slabs of brie before her, enough for each of them to have two if they liked, and even a remaining two if one wished extras. Hm...There was jam as well. I wonder…
“Somewhat skeptical, Rabbit asked Fox how long he had been fishing. Lying, Fox shrugged, ‘Perhaps… Fifteen minutes or so?’
Opening the small jar of preserves, the elf was happy to find her luck unimpeded as the jam was raspberry as well, a discovery happily made with a small dip of her little finger in the sweet mixture and a flick of her tongue. Delicious…
Feeling an urge to experiment, Kaiera used her spoon to dab a bit of the jam to one of the scraps of cheese that remained from her circles and took a bite of it before a squeal pressed against tightened lips with delight. She looked behind herself to see if she had interrupted the story or if anyone heard, but the tale continued without pause and the human rapt by its telling.
“Impressed, Rabbit noted, ‘That is a fine catch! More than you need to eat, surely. What will you do with the extras?’”
Re-wrapping the cheese that she did not use for the miniature desserts, she smoothed the edges of the fragmented cheese and made semi-circles from them, adverse to wasting food when there was no particular need; the rest she threw to the trees, perhaps some animal would find the tasty morsel. Her tasting had shown her that just cheese and garnish alone would be appetizing enough, but to her, it would not do: something was missing; the elf considered the rolls that resided in the corner of the basket. Perhaps I could put them to use here as well.
“Satisfied the trap was set, Fox said, ‘It's getting late and I'm cold. I think I'll come back and fish some more in the morning.’
She had truly only considered the rolls with the jam, but if one was to be playful with their food combination, they had to follow through. Grabbing the same number of rolls as slices of brie, Kaiera nodded at their soft firmness before halving them as well, offering a choice for the eater: a whole circle with fruit, a half slice with jam, or just the more fluffy top of the roll with jam smeared upon it. She carefully applied her creations, feeling the familiar warmth fill her as always when she worked with foods, the carve of the knife; the scoop of the spoon; the thrill of the taste: all were satisfying.
“Soon after dawn rose, Fox loped over the top of the ridge and strode right up to Rabbit. Casually, he asked, ‘What are ya doing there, Rabbit?’ Rabbit’s teeth chattered, ‘I'm ffffissshing, Fffox.’”
An amused sound escaped her lips. Despite her turned form, she still listened avidly, the sound of the now exaggerated voices of rabbit and fox humorous: there was no question that the man enjoyed himself. Using the bowl of water, she dipped her knife in to remove juice and residue before, again, focusing on the apples; there were only four of them, but that would be more than suitable for the sauce she wished to make. Emptying the bowl to the ground so it could hold the apple slices, the elf began the easy work of coring the apples before quartering them and setting them aside: the quarters she left peeled as they would present a richer paste. She saved a single slice and set it to the side for Peko: he had been very compliant today and certainly deserved a treat.
“Eager to warm up and check, Rabbit attempted to rise. However, the water had frozen solid once more overnight, and he found he couldn't budge. Shivering, he pleaded, ‘F-f-fox you've g-gott to helppp me. I'mma s-s-stttuck.’”
Covering the treats she would deliver after their main meal, Kaiera obtained both the bowl of chopped apple and a fresh pot, making her way back to the pond to fill it before walking back over to the fire and her other companions.
“Rabbit popped! out of that hole and flew clear across the lake,” The other elf gave a shove to an invisible opponent, adding even more force to his words, “sliding to a stop on the other end. However, his tail remained stuck in the frozen water, leaving on a small fuzzy stump on his rear. And that's why to this day, rabbits have such short, stubby tails.”
"An unfortunate tale for the rabbit; I assume there is a moral? Your story seems the sort...You mentioned the Dalish, as well: would I be right in assuming this story theirs?" Eying the know bubbling concoction that lay within the pot, Kaiera knew it to be almost done from the smells, "I will also need the fire when you are through with it." She watched the man take a swig of his drink, throat obviously needing it after such exertion before looking to Olivie, wondering on her silence. “Am I to go next, then or will the creator of this plan share with us her tale?”
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Post by Guest on Aug 10, 2010 2:49:00 GMT -5
“I have been told several times now of our circumstance, yet am reminded as if the precautions will spill from my head.”
SIGH. Even when trying to be a little friendlier in his helpfulness, she snipped. Really, if the other elf gave any indication she actually listened to him, Delain would stop repeating himself.
“Yes; let us prepare foods on surfaces we know nothing of hygienically. Shall I sprinkle the food with earth afterward?”
The man managed to resist the urge to smack his face with his marred hand. Again, merely offering help; he only suggested the wagon and crates as a base, figuring that covering the surface first came implied to one with her level of intellect. Apparently, Delain either grossly overestimated Kaiera’s ability to read between the lines, or the depths to which her petty snarkiness sank. Though, he admitted internally – her dedication to smart-mouthing proved quite admirable. Humorous to some degree, even. At least as amusing as it was annoying, anyway.
“I have a cutting board; you only need worry on your pot of water.”
Biting back any quips dancing on the tip of his tongue, Delain shrugged. “Very well.”
He noted while Olivie listened to his tale with rapt attention, Kaiera continued to work. At first the Dalish figured it another aspect of her pettiness, until she showed signs of listening – a slight turn of the head, a quick glance up from her duties. She merely multitasked, as he often did. Nothing wrong with that. Besides, he lost himself easily while weaving a tale, and these observations came out of habit with barely a second thought; even though his ears caught the tiny squeal released by the young woman while she tasted a sample of her food, his mind let the detail slip by. Otherwise, Delain likely would have stored it away for future teasing.
His story finished, Delain noted with satisfaction Olivie’s captivation. At least half his audience enjoyed the fable. Then again, the shemlen was a bard, so that came as little surprise. Before he could ponder if the other half paid full attention, Kaiera broke off into several questions. Really, should that come as a surprise either?
“An unfortunate tale for the rabbit; I assume there is a moral? Your story seems the sort...” A moral? Hm, he didn’t even think about that when the rabbit hole brought the story to mind. But, true – it did strive to teach a lesson. Delain paused, taking another sip of his water. “Mm. If anything, it warns of the dangers of hubris. A lesson some don’t learn without personal experience, unfortunately.” His eyes and tone grew distant, the latter comment aimed not at his inquisitor, but to no one immediately apparent. Scarred fingers idly traced along his shirt, finding the small bump of his necklace underneath the cloth. Shaking his head and returning to reality, Delain barely caught her next question.
“You mentioned the Dalish, as well: would I be right in assuming this story theirs?” She wished to pry with this question – that much remained obvious. In no mood to reveal more about himself at the moment, but neither choosing to outright ignore the inquiry, Delain shrugged. “Perhaps. It is a tale found amongst many nomadic cultures, the Dalish included. No one is certain where the story truly originated.” Not at all a lie – but neither did it lend to a further line of questioning in that particular direction. They already marched to the Dales; he’d rather not think much more on his previous life than he already did.
“I will also need the fire when you are through with it.” Delain checked the stew, stirring the cooking broth with a wooden spoon. Close, but not quite at full consistency – and therefore, not quite fully cooked. “Aye, noted. The stew still needs a few minutes, yet.”
“Am I to go next, then or will the creator of this plan share with us her tale?” Still slowly stirring the bubbling brew, he remained silent and looked over at Olivie, also awaiting an answer.
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Post by Guest on Aug 10, 2010 3:33:20 GMT -5
Kaiera was back to her snotty way of making a rude comment after everything that Delain said, but Olivie was relieved that the woman was quiet during the story. She even showed signs of interest, just a few, despite keeping her attention largely focused on preparing food. She had even asked a few questions at the end. Snotty questions, but at least it showed she was listening. Delain replied as always, but Olivie noted he did not answer. She wondered how long Kaiera would persist with her endless questions before she understood that neither Delain nor Olivie were going to give out information by accident.
But then Kaiera asked, “am I to go next, then or will the creator of this plan share with us her tale?” Go next? Olivie was stunned that the elf even wanted to tell stories, not just listen to them. And that she would volunteer!
Her eyes brightened at this idea. "Oh if you have a story in mind, please go ahead." The bard shifted around to focus squarely on Kaiera. "I can talk while the two of you sup." She rested her elbows on her legs and put her face in her hands, eagerly awaiting the next story.
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Post by Guest on Aug 10, 2010 21:50:40 GMT -5
"Oh if you have a story in mind, please go ahead." There was a lure to chuckle then, Olivie’s enchantment with the easy suggestion close to palpable, brown eyes dancing with excitement. All this from an anecdote…I wonder if I were to add song and lute, what her reaction would be? "I can talk while the two of you sup."
The human resembled an eager child, then: elbows pressed tight against thighs, hands supporting face of all too noticeable expectancy; Kaiera felt as if she should toss the human a treat from this new performance.
“My, but aren’t you eager? This tale of mine could be quite terrible, you know. Do not set your hopes too high.” She gestured to the man on the other side of her. “It is certainly no tale as riveting as rabbit and fox...Though I find myself entertained with the fact that one of my characters is an animal as well; I suppose it only shows how much they can teach us.”
Reaching for a blanket; she set it to the ground before sitting, it a proper barrier against the earth, and rested pot and bowl in her lap, looking then to her hand with fondness once she was settled until gray eyes found her audience again.
“Look here, at my hand.” She lifted and turned the limb so that the faint red markings faced them both, the heat of the fire gently licking at the tattoo there, the warm colors leaping. “This story I share is its twin, faded with time; yes, but still present, still lasting.” Lowering her arm, the elf glanced to it again; her muse: listening for its humble yarn that only her ears could catch upon the wind.
“When I was a girl still, coming upon my sixteenth year, I happened upon an elderly elven woman in the Market District. She was no merchant: a stall she did not have, nor loud banners to display her purpose there. Neither still was she a beggar, soliciting coin and relying on another to get by. Rather, she merely chose a box to rest on while a smaller box occupied her lap.” She motioned to the occupants on her own lap as if it were the box. “‘Where did this old woman come from?’, I asked myself, ‘How is it that she is here? This beautiful oddity: a wondrous bundle of silver, wrinkles, and wisdom.'’”
Kaiera allowed the open smile, recalling effortlessly the vivid hair, the many lines across the canvas of her face, gifts bestowed by age – but most, those ripe green eyes, seasoned as if they had seen the world. “Fascination easily got the better of me as I approached – you see, even with nothing but boxes and the clothes on her back – she looked so proud; no one could dare tell her here was not where she belonged.‘Come, child.’ She told me with a single finger, beckoning me near,” The elf copied the motion she spoke of, the memory taking her, “‘You are the sole person who has approached me today, bringing open mind instead of judgment.’ ‘I fear you give me too much credit:’ I shook my head, ‘curiosity brought me here.’”
The woman closed her eyes. "‘Ah,’ The woman laughed, a sweet and dry sound, like wood crackling in fire, ‘And what is so wrong with curiosity? It brought you to me, did it not? It has served its purpose well. These trinkets’, her fingers tapped against the box, 'are for meddlesome shemlen and will do nothing for you; instead, I give one real treasure: a story taught by an elf even older than I. Will you indulge this old storyteller?'”
She returned to the present, regarding both her companions with eyes opened once more. “I hastily complied. Any one person with at least an ounce of sense to call their own knows that the utterance of the old is valuable more than even choice silver.” She nodded as the other elf had. “‘Very well. The tale I share is of the Elf and the Spider; we will see at the end if I was accurate in its telling: the story picks its listener, not the other way around.’ The aged elf paused then, no longer appearing to see me, but here is the story she shared."
"One day, not unlike any other, an elf, tired and frustrated with the constant burden city life granted her, retreated to the forest, seeking peace of mind in the simplicity that is nature. She traveled a long way through the woods, wishing to escape hardship and memory alike, until all she could see were the soft greens and the hard browns, the colors soothing her."
Kaiera continued without need to pause, amazed how a story told so long ago came to her as easily as it did. "Finally satisfied with her distance, the elf sat on the ground; closing her eyes as the gentle breeze caressed her skin, the elf only opened them a second time when the breeze, all of a sudden, blew stronger. ‘What is this strong breeze?’ The elf inquired, looking up to the now grey sky, ‘There was to be no storm this day.’ Rising to her feet to find cover from this now impending storm, the elf found a large tree that easily offered enough cover for with it thick branches and thick leaves – but she was not the only company to the tree.”
Using both hands in this demonstration, one of her hand's fingers were the branch as the other was the spider whom formed its creation along it. “On a lone branch that offered no cover at all, a spider moved nimbly across her web with purpose and the elf soon found herself enraptured by its dance.” Kaiera’s fingers danced across the air, a representation of the spider’s legs as she smoothly transition from one point and then to another. “Shaking her head from her trance, the elf quickly called out, ‘Spider, Spider – do you not see the coming storm? If you do not take cover as I do, you will surely be blown away!’ Despite the elf’s earnest cries, the spider ignored her, still spinning her web, unimpeded even as the wind blew harder. The elf tried again, ‘Spider, Spider – this is no time for pride! If you do not take cover as I do, you will surely die!’ Again, the spider ignored her, mending now little tears in her work that the breeze had managed to unravel.”
A smile touched her lips once more. “The elf grew frustrated, believing her cause noble and the spider stubborn. ‘What is the point of saving something that will be, in a few moments, utterly destroyed? Better to save yourself and start anew then die for something that means nothing to anyone else!’"
“Finally,” Kaiera’s fingers came to a stop, “the spider came to a halt to regard the woman. ‘Foolish Elf, how easily you lose faith and how quickly you panic. Can you not see that the storm is already retreating?’ The spider’s words carried much truth, as the wind calmed considerably. ‘What care, have I, for the other creature’s opinions? I am birthed knowing the masterpieces I will create, understanding well that appropriate effort must be given for their beauty – for what is a spider that so hastily abandons her web? My every hope and dream lay in each thread: never, will I abandon it.’"
Dropping her gaze to the pot of water, Kaiera mirrored the elf's now disgraced expression. "Feeling shamed, the elf now recognized her own failings, running away from her problems instead of weathering them. “‘Tell me, oh Spider, how is it your web endures so? How do you have such faith when everything is against you?’"
“‘Vir Bor’assan, little Elf.” There was reverence in the words, the simple sentence her very reason for taking on a fight that could not be her own. “‘Hold value in all you do: learn to bend, but never break.’”
Eyes lingering on the gentle ripples that even the slightest movement made in the water as she could not help but hold the last sentences to her heart, Kaiera looked up to them. "And that is my story; the gift I was given that day."
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Post by Guest on Aug 11, 2010 1:06:55 GMT -5
“My, but aren’t you eager? This tale of mine could be quite terrible, you know. Do not set your hopes too high. It is certainly no tale as riveting as rabbit and fox...” Delain chuckled, “Though I find myself entertained with the fact that one of my characters is an animal as well; I suppose it only shows how much they can teach us.”
“Indeed. Many valuable lessons can be gathered from observing animals, or nature in general.” In this, at least, the two elves could agree. Stirring the pot a few more times, Delain kept quiet and focused his attention on Kaiera’s story. Early on, he recognized it – or, at least, key elements of it heard from similar tales. Still, she told it well. Really, if the woman used her words for tales more than she did pressing questions or attempts to insult his mental capacity, he might actually learn to appreciate them.
When Kaiera revealed her left-handed tattoo, Delain raised his eyebrows. The words were too broken and faded to make sense of. Then again, he barely retained any literacy in anything outside of Elven, so even if the ink were clearer, he doubted it could make any more sense to him. Still, a tattoo on the back of a hand? Peculiar. Some Dalish tattooed the inside of their palms when married – symbols to match their spouse’s – but even amongst the nomadic elves, the practice remained rare, and they didn’t tattoo the outside of the hand, far as he recalled. He doubted the city elves knew of it. Thus, the man pondered a moment on the significance of other elf’s marking. The curiosity soon passed, however, and Kaiera continued her story.
He watched with amusement while she punctuated her telling with hand animations – the mark of a gifted tale weaver. The hahren of his clan used similar motions and emphasis during their stories, pulling their audience ever further into their intricate web of fantasy. Though far away, Delain recalled the memories quite vividly. He repressed a wistful sigh.
She finished her tale, “‘Vir Bor’assan, little Elf. Hold value in all you do: learn to bend, but never break.’” Delain’s fingers absentmindedly traced over the inscription on his bow – “Vir Bor’assan.” It was a code he knew well; one he highly valued yet brought him pain to think on, for more than any other regret in his life, Delain knew he had violated it in more ways than one. None of which he’d yet forgiven himself for. His fingers drifted from his bow back down to his chest, once again stroking the halla trinket through the cloth of his shirt. Only the low gurgle of the stew broke him out of his recollections.
Shaking his head, the elf noted the stew was finally finished. Rising from his seat, he grabbed a piece of rough leather from his cart and set it near the center of camp. Reaching into his pocket, Delain pulled out his open-fingered gloves and used them as potholders, grasping the pot by the handle and carefully lifting it from the tripod. Setting the pot atop the cloth, he motioned to the fire. “Stew’s done. Fire is all yours.”
He straightened, rubbing the halla trinket once again. “That was… A very good story, Kaiera. Forgive me, Liv – if you could wait but a moment for your story. I need to check the area around camp one more time before eating.” With that, he walked off to circle the pond, gathering his thoughts before he returned to camp.
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Post by Guest on Aug 11, 2010 12:12:11 GMT -5
Olivie loved Kaiera's story and the personal twist that went along with it. She was also intrigued that the elf pointed out the tattoo on her hand. It was unclear how the story was akin to the markings or what would have made her bring up the two together. And of course the moral of her story was an excuse for being prideful. For a moment, the bard felt defeated. Here her idea was to bring people together by telling stories, and instead her companions managed to continue to exchange the same barbs they had been before they had begun.
But when she looked over at Delain she reconsidered that thought. He seemed… moved by the story. Olivie had not anticipated a story to have such an effect on him. He played with something he kept under his shirt and looked far away. After complimenting Kaiera's story he spoke to the bard. “Forgive me, Liv – if you could wait but a moment for your story. I need to check the area around camp one more time before eating.”
"Yes, of course," she murmured in response. Her companion got up and wandered away for a few minutes. Rather than go hungry while her companions ate, she seized the opportunity to grab a bite while Delain recuperated. Olivie fetched herself a little bit of the soup to eat and contemplated which story to tell. She had thought of telling the story of Aveline the Brave, but her companions seemed interested in stories with morals instead of just reflections of history. Which is not to say that Aveline had no moral in her story, but perhaps they could use something a little more to the point. They seemed to be taking the opportunity to say something in particular to one another, and Olivie had quite a few things to say to the two of them.
When Delain had returned and she had finished her meal, Olivie decided to settle down and tell her story. "We seem to have a theme tonight,” she began. "And so I will attempt to keep with that theme. My story is shorter than either of yours but nonetheless I hope you enjoy it. Perhaps some other night I can tell you stories about Andraste or Aveline, of Denerim or Orzammar. Tonight we tell fables from long ago. From an era when Fox and Rabbit traded with the Dalish. From when Spider spoke to the elves. From when the elements were all friends, had names, and spoke to each other as freely as the three of us have spoken tonight.”
"And while all the elements were indeed close to one another, they still competed and bragged as any are wont to do when they are proud of their accomplishments. They would tease one another on their speed or intellect. On one such occasion, the North Wind joked with the Sun that he was the stronger of the two. The Sun said that was nonsense and that his strength was clearly unmatched. The North Wind merely laughed because he could tear down buildings, bring down rocks from mountains, and create storms of destruction.” She made a gesture of things crumbling.
"They decided a competition was in order and they focused on one man in particular. It was an early autumn day, and the man wore a coat over his normal clothes. The North Wind wagered that he could get the coat off the man, and the Sun took that bet.” Olivie snapped her fingers as though the Sun had snatched up the chance in an instant. "The North Wind gathered his strength and blew as hard as he could, but to no avail. He swirled around the man, howling madly, trying as hard as he could to blow the coat off. But the harder that he blew, the tighter the man hugged his coat to his body.” She mimicked the movements of holding a coat tightly around her. "Exhausted, the North Wind stopped to rest.”
She leaned forward to deliver the moral. "Next it was the Sun’s turn, and he beamed brightly in the sky. Soon enough, the man grew warm. He took off his coat and strolled down the road, enjoying the rest of the lovely day.” With that she grew quiet. She hoped they got the message. Maybe if they stopped pushing so hard and just let things be…
"Thank you for the meal and the stories,” she said to them both. From her tone, it was clearly intended to serve as “good night” unless either of them had something useful to add.
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Post by Guest on Aug 12, 2010 0:39:09 GMT -5
“Stew’s done. Fire is all yours.”
She acknowledged his indication with a nod. “Excellent. Thank you.” Kaiera deposited the bowl of apple slices into the larger pot of water and rose to place it over the fire. “This will not take long if there is anything else one of you wishes to prepare. I need only soften the fruit.”
Out of her peripherals, she witnessed the man straighten, fumbling once again with that unknown trinket beneath his shirt. “That was… A very good story, Kaiera."
“Accolade instead of query? This is the second instance today, no?” She smiled, going further to keep the now amiable mood by not recoiling when he spoke her name. “How you spoil me.”
“Forgive me, Liv – if you could wait but a moment for your story. I need to check the area around camp one more time before eating.”
"Yes, of course,"
Taking this opportunity complete her own preparations, the elf first gathered a lid for the swiftly heating pot so that it would boil that much faster with its contained heat, before grabbing the rest of the raspberries, spoon, and potato smasher. She set each object down on the blanket she previously occupied, reaching down for her bowl and partaking a small amount of the broth he had made as well; from Olivie’s willingness to eat it and its satisfactory smell, it certainly could not be all that terrible. It did not feel long, from her re-acquaintance with the blanket, that their guide returned; giving no urgent word of immediate threat, Kaiera merely assumed he found nothing that would endanger their small party.
He appears to have made peace with what troubled him. The man was no adept at hiding his thoughts: they were scrawled against his face and worn plainly on his sleeve. He had been noticeably distant at the end of her story, a fragment of it no doubt triggering something he perhaps, at the time, did not wish to recall.
Finishing her meal, the human began to speak, "We seem to have a theme tonight, and so I will attempt to keep with that theme. My story is shorter than either of yours but nonetheless I hope you enjoy it.”
I am sure we will. Kaiera softened her focus on the woman by measuring an appropriate amount of the stew in her spoon before taking an inaudible sip; everything before, even her own tale, had merely lead to this event: she wished to finally see, if a bard, what made her kind’s stories so captivating – so perilous.
“Perhaps some other night I can tell you stories about Andraste or Aveline, of Denerim or Orzammar.” The elf had heard stories on all of those subjects, but still, the suggestion begged interest: it was not often that one person told a story the same as another and the other appeared to have quite the arsenal. “Tonight we tell fables from long ago. From an era when Fox and Rabbit traded with the Dalish. From when Spider spoke to the elves. From when the elements were all friends, had names, and spoke to each other as freely as the three of us have spoken tonight.”
Already, she found herself taken by the small summary Olivie had assigned their tales, it becoming a smooth transition into the plot of her own. As the human spoke of the elements and their petty scruples, Kaiera could not help a smile; it was a story she knew well, one that had made her giggle with delight as a child: just as old, but somewhat more common. The showy blow of the North Wind and the shinning confidence of the Sun – truly, if these characters were supposed to be her and the other elf, she could not imagine which role belonged to whom.
There was a distinguishing difference between arrogance and poise: pride was held in all her abilities because she had gone through the pains of honing them – and what use were such skills if they were not daily practiced, sharpened by the steel of another quick mind?
These breaks, these lulls, are illusion. Never does one let their guard down. It was all but unwritten law in Orlais, one strictly followed by every member of nobility and, those that were smart, close to them. She must assume our contrasting morals a thing more than coincidence.
Knowing the moral beforehand and its intended lecture, Kaiera, instead, balanced her attentions from meal onto the human’s movements, the change of diction and tone – the pacing. This new fluidity of words, this new thought to structure and intent…It was somewhat of a shame that the woman did not always speak this way, though perchance there was a reason for it; did she wish it to be a surprise?
All the more lure of a bard, I presume. She set her now emptied bowl off to the side.
"Next it was the Sun’s turn, and he beamed brightly in the sky. Soon enough, the man grew warm. He took off his coat and strolled down the road, enjoying the rest of the lovely day.”
“And so the Sun outsmarts the North Wind. It seems the value we give it is well earned.” She pointed to the sky. "We will have to indulge the Moon with such a winning narrative next time, so she will not become jealous."
Rising once more at the quiet that accompanied the end of the tale, she removed the potato smasher and held is secure underneath her arm, bundling the blanket around her hands so she could remove the now profusely steaming pot without injury. Lying it down on the ground, the elf set the blanket behind it, walking away to acquire the cutting board of treats and bottle of wine while replacing her cloak as well.
"Thank you for the meal and the stories,” Even though she only returned, it was all but clear that the other woman wished to retire for the night.
Kaiera tsked. “Do not be so quick to run away, Olivie. Will you not stay to taste the deserts I have prepared? While not much, I am sure they will, at the very least, be enjoyable. Let us end this night on a sweet note, hm?” She presented the tray to them both, waiting for one of them to relieve her of it.
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