| Logs |
2003 December 14
| Idlewild |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Idlewild Logs |
December 14
Hard on the heels of Seodil's words to him-- "I am almost completely certain after seeing you that we came out of the same hell-bitch, as a matter of fact. Isn't that nice?"-- the courtier Clairchiare's golden eyes go slitted narrow and he looks even more like his brother Seodil. His right hand disappears under his coat for a split second and emerges holding a very businesslike main-gauche.
Aiden leaps to his feet immediately, hand going to the sword at his waist and drawing it. He doesn't even try to bring the blade out quietly, he wants Clairchiare to hear it. He presents the blade, point end first towards Clairchiare. "You're badly outnumbered. Put it away. Now." He knows he'd have to go over the table to get there in time, but retrains the urge to do just that, barely.
Steven rises to his feel quickly, moving to interpose himself between the two. "None of that here!" he says quickly, stifling a flash of anger. Gods, this is insane, we're barely here with him for five minutes and already Seodil couldn't resist taking a potshot at him! Still.... "I'm sure the owners don't want to be cleaning up after us...
Sol stays frozen where she is. Seodil never moved, and is still wearing a pleasant smile. Clairchiare blinks, golden eyes widening back to a more pleasant expression, and says around gritted teeth, "I'm glad you're loyal to each other. It will make your lives at court and my job much easier... and as my job includes taking care of you, no, I will not be stabbing your comrade for insulting my mother. However." Clairchiare turns his head to look evenly at Aiden, then Steven. "Might I request that you discuss amongst yourselves the value in not treating your liason to the Princess as a toy?" He pointedly does not look at Seodil when he adds, "I will not remain with you until and unless an apology is tendered. I will be in another room. Ask the pookha for me and I will guide you safely to the Topaz Chair when you are ready."
Clairchiare has not yet moved to put his dagger away; he looks at Aiden and says politely, "May I?" as he slowly moves to start restoring it to its sheath.
Aiden slides his sword back into the sheath when he's certain that Clairchiare isn't going to stab Seodil. He nods when Clairchiare asks for permission to put the blade away.
Neatly, the pink-haired elf sheathes his dagger and stands to go.
Steven does visibly relax. "Thank you." He gets out of the way of Clairchiare, to let him get to the door, not moving to stop him. He isn't the one who needs to apoogize, after all.
Aiden sits back down, calmly, glancing around at each of the people in the room. He waits quietly for Clairchiare to take his leave of them.
Their liason stalks out of the room like a ruffled cat, straightening his burgundy knee-coat as he leaves on silent feet. The door slides closed again behind him.
Aiden says, "I'll go and apologise to him when we're ready to go.."
Seodil's head whips around from watching the door to give Aiden a completely startled look.
Steven says quietly, "I don't think you're the one who has to apologize, Aiden." He doesn't look at Seodil as he returns to his seat, mulling over what Clairchiare said. What the heck is a pooka?
Aiden looks at Seodil's startled face. "What?"
Seodil says bluntly, "Aiden, why the six flaming hells and seven freezing ones would you apologize?"
Aiden shrugs, "Because he seems to expect it, and I'm used to apologising for things that I'm either not sorry for, or not responsible for." He grins at Seodil. "Besides.. Keeps you or Soleil from having to do it."
Soleil glances at Steven.
Steven looks steadilly at Aiden, hoping that by willpower alone he can get AIden to realize that this is something Seodil needs to apologize for or eventually it'll be a case of Aiden being the emissary apologizing for every little infraction and every big catastrophe a member of the little group inadvertanty and not-so-inadvertantly causes.
Aiden is apparently either not telepathic or not suceptible to The Force. Or maybe, he just doesn't get it.
Steven sighs a bit. "Aiden. You're not the one who called the man's mother a... what was sit again?"
Aiden says, "I think it was hellbitch."
Steven says, "Yes, hellbitch, thank you."
Sol starts looking somewhere between amused and annoyed as Seodil says tonelessly to Steven, "Hell-bitch. Which she is. She sold me to Winter before I was your age, for no more reason than that I was the wrong color," then blinks at Aiden and snaps, "This is not acceptable. You will not apologize for things that are not your fault, is that clear? This apology is mine and mine alone, no one else's."
Aiden nods at Seodil, face going quite expressionless in a split second. "As you like."
Steven looses much of his anger at Seodil's words. "I'm not going to argue that. I.. imagine that would tend to make for bad feelings. But Clairchiare... erm.. he probably has a different experience with her." He pauses. "Wait. Silver isn't acceptable in Summer, but pink is?"
Seodil stands in a flurry of silvery hair and nods to Steven. "Silver is cold, pink is warm. I was unseasonal and ugly from birth, and no action could make up for my defects." His tone is matter of fact. "I will go apologize to our liason now for telling the truth." He pauses, then takes off his swordbelt and hands it to Aiden. "If you would, please?"
Aiden stands and reaches to take the swordbelt by the hilt and sheath. "Of course." He sits back down, laying it down carefully beside himself..
Steven blinks quizaiacly. "Ugly? You?" He shakes his head before anyone can make more of that statement than what that is. "Seodil... can I make a suggestion first?"
Soleil murmurs to Steven and Aiden, "Pink is the color of dawn, and very auspicious. Silver is pure Winter, ice and chill."
Seodil nods to Steven, "I am accustomed to being unsightly. Of course. What is your suggestion?"
Aiden turns his head so that he's facing Soleil while he listens, "Pink is.. not a colour we see back home, except on little club girls who are trying very hard to fit in with other little club girls. Usually that exact shade," he says this last with a hint of amusement in his tone.
Sol murmurs, "Club girls?" in a questioning tone. "Fighters? Clairchiare is definitely a fighter from his movement..."
Steven says, "You're hardly unsightly.. anyway. If you go in there and say 'I apologize for telling the truth,' he's going to take that as being snarky and pull out that knife of his sheath except this time you won't have a sword. Maybe.. try to let him know that the woman you knew was a... er, hellbitch, and his milage may vary -- uh, his experience might have been different." he sighs helplessly. "Just... a suggestion. Maybe it might... help... I guess." He waits for the derisive retort."
Aiden shakes his head, "No.. Not fighters. Young teenage girls whose whole lives revolve around who's throwing the next party and whether it will be better than the last one."
Seodil tilts his head at Steven, blinks luminous silver eyes, and says solemnly "Thank you, Steven. I expect I shall try that." He gives a little bow, then turns to go.
Steven blinks.
Steven murmurs, "Uh... welcome." He still looks like you could knock him over with a feather.
The silver elf vanishes through the door to be promptly replaced by a very slinky humanoid waitress in shades of pale green, white and blue, set off by a shimmery white dress that covers her from neck to toe and is not... exactly... opaque. She sets out five small bowls of clear fluid and five steaming white towels at the low table, then retreats silently.
Aiden blinks at the arrival of the towels, more caught up in the things she's putting out than what she's wearing, or not wearing. "It's exactly like a sushi restaurant."
Sol nods at Aiden, somewhat confused still, "Okay..." Seriously, she adds "I don't think that's a wise comparison to make in our liason's hearing."
Unfortunately Steven is still too stunned to do more than murmur thanks to the lady, and certainly can't gauge the opacity of the dress. He looks at the towels confusedly. "Are... we supposed to clean up?"
Soleil grins and says, "Yes. Dip your fingers in the water, and dry them on the towel."
Aiden looks at Steven. "It's actually reminding me more and more of a sushi restaurant." He dips his fingers into the water and carefully unfolds the towel, letting it cool just a bit before he wipes his hands dry on it.
Steven nods and does as instructed. "Never been in a sushi restauraunt. Though Teacher did make some wicked tempura...."
Aiden nods, "I've only been in a couple. Lived in small towns, there weren't really good sushi restaurants around.."
The water proves warm and lemony. In fairly short order, the bowls and towels are removed again by a different girl, and the white-clad one in the bob haircut returns balancing trays that unload small bowls of something unidentifiably grayish and square, as well as smaller trays of what is unmistakably sushi (both maki and nigiri) and a variety of steamed dumplings that closely resemble gyoza. No utensils are forthcoming, though dipping sauces are. The girl sets everything out quickly but lingers long enough for questions as the girl that removed the towels comes back with small cups and two teapots.
The towel girl sets out colorful lacquered chopsticks almost as an afterthought before she vanishes quietly. The white-clad girl turns to follow after setting out the last tray of beautifully-arranged little tidbits.
Aiden looks over the table carefully. He's familiar with just about everything, except for those bowls with the greyish square stuff in them, but he doesn't ask.
Steven waits until the two ladies -- he's regained his wits enough to notice the lack of complete opacity in the white-clad lady's dress just as she departs -- have left beore he takes a cautious sniff of the grey... stuff. The chopsticks are not unfamiliar to him, fortunately.
Aiden grins at Steven, "So. It is a sushi restaurant. I can tell you what just about everything is except for, uh, that." He motions at the grey stuff.
The greyish block smells mostly like fish. Mostly.
Steven nods idly, declining to note that it's actually a 'sushi brothel.' "I can identify most of it as well, just... not those eggs.. or that... block.. either. I think it's a kind of fish. Tofu with fish oil?
Aiden looks over at Soleil, "Should we wait for the others?"
Aiden looks at the block dubiously. "I think I'm going to give it a miss. Which eggs?"
Steven indicates the not-nearly-as-large-as-a-hen's-but-much-bigger-than-caviar eggs.
Aiden says, "Oh. Quail, probably."
Sol sighs and says, "Seodil left to apologize. He may never come back. Go on, both of you, eat."
Aiden glances at Sol. "Only if you're going to eat as well, Soleil. We can wait if you prefer."
Soleil cracks her wrists and fingers, obviously edgy, and sighs again. She thows a quick smile at Aiden. "I'll eat. If we don't eat this, they probably won't bring us something sweet, after all."
Steven opens his mouth... then closes it, remembering that they mentioned excellent pastries here. Instead he decides he's going to eat some of the more familiar things before trying the grey, just in case it chases his appetite away.
Aiden nods, "He'll be fine, I'm sure." His voice lacks any sort of convinction at all, but he does eat, avoiding the grey thing for a while.
Aiden glances nervously at the door.
Soleil says "Of course he will. He's indestructible," rolls her eyes and takes chopsticks neatly in hand to try a bite of the greyish thing. Eyes brightening, she finishes hers and eyes Steven's.
Steven suddenly feels very possessive of his grey stuff.
Steven glances to Soleil, and takes that as a good sign. He tries a but of the grey stuf, wondering what Sol might like about it.
Aiden watches Soleil's reaction to the grey stuff and eyes his again. It's not that the flavour isn't good. It's just that the colour bothers him somehow. He picks his bowl up and sets it down next to Soleil.
Sol's chopsticks edge toward Steven's bowl, then hesitate. She grins at Aiden, "You sure?"
Aiden grins at Soleil. "Go ahead. I'm sure it's great, but I just can't make myself eat it."
Soleil says seriously, "You really should try just a bite to see if you like it. It's hard to get, I'm sure they don't always have it on hand."
Aiden shakes his head, "It's alright, Sol. Have it."
Sol clicks her tongue but doesn't ask again. The grey stuff vanishes fairly quickly and she munches on prettier items without a glance at the door.
Aiden frowns. "He and Soleil were gone for an hour.. I'm sure they haven't killed each other. Give them a few more minutes then I'm going in there.."
Steven blinks in surprise as he eats his grey stuff. It's... unusual. Not at all unpleasant, but tasty, though... the brief moment of poignant sadness he feels when he tastes it makes him disquieted a little. He has no idea what's in it, or what it might be. "Sol.. what.. what is this?"
Soleil frowns, starting to put a hand on Aiden's; she looks away from him toward Steven and smiles. "I've heard it called both nixe and sirene. Peculiar, isn't it?"
Aiden glances at the door again, then says, "I'm going to go.." He pauses when Sol puts a hand on his.
Steven looks down at the bowl again, swallowing slowly. Suddenly he's not hungry. "Uh... aren't.. nixies and sirens, er, sirenes... uhm...."
Aiden blanches, glad he didn't actually eat any of it.
Soleil sighs, "Aiden, he's not dead. Clairchiare said his job was to protect us, right? What will you do if they're just talking?" She gives an absent "Hm?" to Steven.
Aiden nods at Soleil, "I'll wait a bit longer, then."
Sol smiles at Aiden. "Besides, I think I hear them. Or dessert. Either way, just as good really."
Aiden finishes up the little bit that was left on his plate, using chopsticks in the right hand, left hand down at his side.
The white-clad girl and her duller shadow do arrive in short notice, fully half an hour after Seodil left the room, bearing trays of tiny, jewel-like pastry sweets that smell absolutely wonderful and are either leaking fruit, adorned with glazed and shiny bits of it, covered in chopped nuts, or leaking cream.
Aiden shoots a glance at Steven. "I can see why they pride themselves on their pastries. They look good."
Steven swallows a bit, then looks up to the ladies. "Excuse me, miss, what is --" he breaks off, realizing that the lady's dress is indeed not entirely opaque.. and forces his gaze upward to look to her eyes, trying to continue. "What is, this, if I may ask?" he indicates the bowl of grey, purposely not looking away from her eyes.
The white-clad girl smiles at Steven and says softly, with a slight and unplacable whispery accent, "Sirene, my lord. A delicacy from the far seas, yes. Do you like fine flesh?" When she speaks, her gown shimmers and clings to her very human chest and stomach.
Her eyes are sea-green.
Aiden nods slightly at the girl's answer, his eyes widening when she gets to the bit about liking fine flesh, worried about what comes after that question.
Sol leans against Aiden and feeds him a cream-filled treat, her arm snaking around his left side and sliding down to hold his hand. When she reaches his hand, her eyes widen a little. She says, faintly sharp, "They might just be sharing a woman, you know."
Steven swallows, quite the conflict of reactions within him. The gown tempts his eyes, but fortunately her words are more than chilling enough; and if he wants to drown in beauty her eyes are enough. "Uhm... I was.. just wondering, really, about... well, I've never had it before and I was wondering what... sort of creature.. is a Sirene...." Dear Lord Pelor, pleae don't let it be a sentient, please don't let it be something mroe intelligent than a sea anemone....
Soleil leans back upright and eats a kiwi pastry with an audible snap of teeth.
Aiden nods, "You could be right." He drops his right hand down to rest against her thigh and helps himself to a pastry with his left hand.
The white-clad girl laughs fetchingly and says, "Mi distant cousin in the swimming, yes? I caught her my own." She winks, smiling.
Aiden's eyes go quite wide at that, even more glad that he didn't eat the Sirene.
Sol smiles, covers Aiden's hand on her thigh with her own, and has another tiny pastry.
Aiden has one more pastry, then leans back slightly, putting his free hand behind him to support himself. "Mm."
Steven tries hard not to be distracted by the laugh or the wink, and only manages to smile kindly. "Ah... I... uhm, thank you, thank you very much. A... distant cousin to yourself, you say?" he does try to convey a bit of worry in his voice. "I'm sorry, I'm just, a little confused, that's all. I've never seen a sirene before."
The girl laughs musically and shakes a faintly webbed finger at Steven. "Oh no no no, good my lord, yes? I am not sirene. How silly!" She giggles again and leans forward to put a fingertip on Steven's nose for a moment as she bends down, jiggling. "I do not have tail. Care to prove? Coming upstairs some time, yes." With a merry grin and wiggle, she walks toward the door.
Aiden sits quietly, quite full and almost completely unwilling to move, except for the occassional glance at the door when he hears a noise outside of it.
Steven is pretty much frozen in place, blinking after the girl as she walks out. No... no, there's not mistaking it... she has no tail under that dress. he shakes his head. Gah, focus, Steven! Reason and logic wage a brief war with hormones. "Uh, SOl, do you know what a sirene is? I guess what I'm asking is, did I just eat a person?" What worries him is that Sol's definition of a perosn might be different from his own; he's still dealing with guilt form killing that goblin so off-handedly.
Seodil and Clairchiare both catch a pale blue arm on opposite sides to keep the white-haired girl from falling as she tries to exit into the silent-footed men outside. They bow slightly to her and step back in unison, long silken hair falling around their faces.
Sol shoots Aiden a triumphant look as the men return, and tilts her head at Steven. "When you say person, what do you mean? I've never seen a whole one, you know."
Aiden blinks, shaking his head for a moment. It's going to take some getting used to, seeing two of them, especially when they're acting in unison.
Steven says, "Er, well.. uhm... are they, like...." He glances to Aiden a bit helplessly. "Sentient? Intelligent? Are they like you or me?""
Aiden stands, taking the sword up in one hand, and offers it, hilt first, to Seodil.
The white-haired girl makes an "oooh" noise and attempts to stop and flirt, but is politely ignored by both after their little bow and rescue. They makes their way back to their original seats at the table, and the girl sniffs and flounces out. Seodil reaches out to Aiden and takes his offered sword, giving Aiden a nod in return with a small, warm smile. He murmurs, "You take good care of it," then sits.
Aiden smiles and sits back down with a quick nod.
Clairchiare looks like a ruffled cat, still, but he is clearly no longer angry with Seodil. The pink-haired elf glares at the remaining pastries, then eats a few with savage delicacy.
Seodil promptly begins to race Clairchiare for the last pastries.
Soleil frowns thoughtfully at Steven and says, "I think so. I know they're supposed to be beautiful singers, and make some jewelry. Why?"
Aiden turns and looks at Steven, trying to figure out if he's the only one who feels like the world has just been given and good shake.
Steven stays well out of this race. He has the feeling he'd get impaled by glares from both of them if he so much as reached for one. And quite frankly Soleil's answer annihilates his appetite. "Oh... I see...." Which explains the sense of poignant loss I felt when I ate it. Blast. Different cultural views, mores and mores, yes, but.... Well, the most I can hope for is that Soleil is wrong. It was too late when the dish was set before me, but that doesn't mean I need to enjoy it. "I was... concerned about that. That's all."
Soleil looks puzzled and adds to Steven, "They're savage fighters amongst themselves and live for exactly seven years. Does that help?"
Aiden listens quietly to the conversation going back and forth between Steven and Soleil, absorbing it all, but not adding anything.
Steven looks up, blinking at Soleil. "Erm.. it might, I'm...." He smiles a little weakly. "It's.. just something that's.. not done in the Grey World." he reaches for a glass of water. He takes this for the moment, at least until he can learn more about the sirenes, as a lesson that despite the similarities, this is still very much not a world they can still take for granted.
Seodil and Clairchiare both look up from the conquered pastries and wrinkle their noses faintly. Seodil says, "Why are you talking about seafood?" Clairchiare slants Seodil a look and says, "That's barbaric, sib." Seodil grins faintly.
Aiden is still not over how similar the two of them are, in more than just appearance. "Dinner came while the two of you were off."
Steven doesn't seem to be helped by that exchange.
Clairchiare nods solemnly at Aiden. "Dinner sometimes must be ignored for matters of deeper consequence." He doesn't crack a smile.
Aiden nods at Clairchiare. "I understand completely." "Heh. How many dinners did we miss because the kitchen was so full and there were too many people to talk to, too many songs yet to be played?"
Soleil does crack a smile, a very little one. She goes oddly stiff.
Aiden puts his hand down on Sol's thigh, giving it a light squeeze. "Don't laugh, Sol.. don't laugh. Please, don't laugh."
Clairchiare smiles kindly at Aiden, then at Steven. "You are loyal companions to my brother, and I must thank you for reminding me not to stab him through the heart. I am grateful."
Steven opens his mouth at that, and honestly doesn't know what to say. 'You're... welcome...." It sounds lame to him.
Aiden nods at Clairchiare. "My pleasure." "This couldn't possibly get more surreal."
Clairchiare beams at Steven, then Aiden, in turn. "If you are finished here, I have instructed our hostess to put it on the Princess' city bill. I will escort you back to our lodgings, and you may begin choosing fabrics for your raiment."
Aiden nods, "We may as well, so long as everyone else is ready?" He glances at the others.
Sol twitches, and hastily has a sip of tea, then a coughing fit, before she nods weakly, "Yes."
Aiden stands up, and offers Soleil his hand to help her get up as well.
Steven blinks and catches himself before asking anything embarrassing, remembering that they got here quite by accident, entirely by chance, he's a monk and they're on a mission from Winter, dammit. "Sure, I'm ready."
Seodil and his cotton-candy twin rise, sweeping their glorious fall of hair back over their shoulders. Clairchiare appears not to find anything strange about putting dinner at a brothel on his ladyship's tab. He turns to lead out.
Aiden waits until Soleil is up, then grabs his bag and puts his boots back on.
Soleil takes Aiden's hand with obvious pleasure and pauses to walk with him.
Aiden catches up with Soleil, slipping his hand back into hers.
The strange little procession leaves the Velvet Pink, where Via's spot as doorman has been replaced by a fey, lightly tabby-striped young man in an enchanting pink velvet dress. He holds the door neatly with a satin-gloved hand and smiles, showing little fangs. "Boots at your service, gentles. The House wishes you a fine night, and do come again."
Aiden nods politely to Boots. "Thank you."
Clairchiare does bat an eyelash, but recovers quickly. Seodil doesn't react at all. Soleil seems delighted and beams, murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like "Finally! My very own whorehouse story!"
Aiden grins at Soleil.
Steven smiles and nods. "Thank you, thank you very much." Boots. A catboy named boots. Why is this tickling something in my memory?
The group attracts quite a few looks askance with their furs and far-from-inconspicuous pink-haired leader, but they arrive at the ornate doors of the Topaz Chair with no further trouble. Clairchiare walks in as though he knows the place and leads the group to an uncomfortably elegant sitting room with predominantly golden hues of fabric.
Aiden looks around the formal sitting room, a little unsure if the furniture is there to be used or admired. He remains standing.
The tailor himself bustles out and introduces himself stuffily as Orthallino. He's a gawkily thin little man with freckles, bright green eyes and bright red hair, wearing deep green and a cloth-of-gold waistcoat. Whipping out a tiny measuring tape, he flits around the group invading personal space and muttering disparaging things about their attire... with the sole exception of Clairchiare.
Steven started fidgeting the moment they stepped in. These are the sorts of places that never took kindly to him, even when he was asking about a help-wanted sign in the front. The arrival and commentary by Orthallino takes him by surprise.
Aiden goes quite stiff every time the little tailor invades his personal space. He doesn't much care about the comments on his attire. He was expecting that.
Orthallino puts his fingers to his lips and lets out a series of piercing whistles that brings a bevy of lovely red-haired, green-eyed young women in with fabrics. One brief whirlwind of activity later, the tailor's assistants-- or possibly daughters, or wives-- race off into the back rooms again and the tailor starts rattling off, names prompted by Clairchiare, "Steven: bronze, tigereye, russet, deep blues, cream. Aiden: copper, apatite, deep greens, garnet. Soleil: gold, amber, honey and cream. Seodil: silver, blues, dove grey, opal. We start there tomorrow. I'll send for you. Rooms are upstairs, Rose will show you."
Aiden doesn't have anything to add to that. He's going to trust the tailor's judgement on colours. That is one of the things that tailors are supposed to be good at. He hopes.
Rose appears promptly at the pull of a bell cord and shows the group upstairs to a wide, well-polished goldenwood hallway. It becomes quickly apparent that everyone has a separate room, and has only to pull their own bell-cord to summon food, drink, or hand-holding while discussing the very important business of fabric selection should it come to that. She vanishes again in a waft of orange and green, leaving the group standing in a hallway with five opened doors awaiting their inspection, a brass key in everyone's right hand.
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