Post by BB on Dec 22, 2020 18:34:44 GMT
You turn up at the Ettin with your picnic basket swinging off your arm, a thick blanket neatly tucked under your other, and your trusted magpie friend Blue perched on your shoulder. Stepping inside and looking through the crowd inside you spot Dwirhian waiting nearby and she smiles as she sees you, and walking over you notice she’s holding a haphazard-looking bundle of cloth with what looks like a bottle poking out of one side of it, the end of a loaf of bread emerging from the other side, and various lumps and bumps within. As she jogs over to you she awkwardly adjusts the bundle to hold it with just one arm, freeing the other arm for a sort of half-hug of greeting.
You accept the hug gleefully, inquire on how she’s been since their last meeting in the mud of the Frog Bog, as well as offer to carry the mystery bundle in your own basket. You don’t inquire as to what’s inside as it’s perhaps a mystery best revealed later on.
Dwirhian thanks you and begins merrily telling you about a party held by someone called Nikja as she wiggles and prods the makeshift bag into a gap in your basket.
It takes a while; but just as you're starting to glance self-consciously around, there's a—
Right!
—and you look down to see the silver-blue face beaming up at you.
Shall we go? she asks. You nod your confirmation with enthusiasm, also producing a small bundle of snowdrops tied together with ribbon from seemingly nowhere.
You mention that you know the both of you are about to go to a place full of flowers, as you give them to Dwirhian, but no one can ever have too many flowers. She seems delighted, holding them close to her face and breathing in the faint fresh scent before turning back to you: I’m glad you said that, she smiles, because I’ve got so many I want to show you!
The Feythorn air is cold but your companion seems no more troubled by it than you, even though, like last time you met, she’s barefoot and wearing only a light, sleeveless jacket over her bandeau and long skirt. On your winding way among the dark conifers, Dwirhian has been asking you about the types of trees and forests that grow where you come from. You mention that even though your old home is very far from here, the forests were not too dissimilar to ones you’re currently walking through. Just that everything was covered with more snow. A lot more snow.
This inevitably leads onto you telling of stories from your childhood of what misadventures and childish pranks you would get up to in the snow with your brothers Bon and Fog. That is, until you realise you might have gotten a little carried away, as you haven’t asked Dwirhian what her home is like yourself. You ask if where she grew up was also just as cold, for she certainly seems comfortable enough outside in the chilly air.
Not usually, she says; it’s up in the mountains to the west, so it’s cooler than Daring Heights but not that cold. No snow, usually, only… actually it’ll be snowing about now probably, she says, a little softly. But most kinds of weather don’t bother us much, Dwirhian continues more brightly – it’s one of the blessings of the lake.
You walk on a while with Dwirhian explaining how important the lake is to the people of Galavir: how they play and swim in it, how they can drink its waters and not need any other food or drink, how they make their clothes from the reeds (she twirls and her skirt spins like a falling maple seed), how it’s the place their souls come from when they’re born and go back to when they die, how it gives them special affinities with water (which is probably why they’re less affected by the weather, because weather is mostly water isn’t it?), and – Ah! she exclaims, I think we’re nearly there! Oh, this will be fun: close your eyes!
You startle slightly, so wholly enraptured by Dwirhian’s talking and stories you feel as if the both of you only just left Daring Heights a few seconds ago. Quickly you oblige her request to cover your eyes with your hands, partially to cover your embarrassment at being so absorbed in the first place (it is solely to do with the unique ways of the people of Galavir, not how splendid Dwirhian’s smile is). You assuredly say you will not cheat by peeking through Blue’s eyes, the magpie on your shoulder giving a quick confirming chirp before poofing briefly out of existence.
You cautiously step forward, trusting Dwirhian as a guide. A hand touches you on the elbow and another rests lightly on the small of your back, and you feel yourself being steered slowly onwards.
As you get used to the darkness, you start to notice the air smelling sweet and fresh, like just after a cleansing summer rain, though the ground underfoot is dry as it slopes gradually downward. Soon the air even somehow feels fresher and more invigorating as the breeze blows over your skin, and the sounds of birds and beasts seem to get a little clearer and brighter. A little further and a couple of stumbles later, the gentle pressure of Dwirhian’s hands goes away and her voice says quietly, Okay – have a look!
For a moment all you can do is blink and blink, the brightness of the surrounding neon colours nearly blinding you. For the flowers are most certainly stunning. No. They’re just more in so many ways. The variety of petals and stems in shapes and patterns you never thought possible. You see flowers as small as a mouse’s cute little nose and ones as large as an elephant’s ears. Think of a colour, any colour, and it’s present somewhere in this treasure trove of flora in front of you.
As the air in front of you and above the flowers shimmers slightly with motes of light, you can’t help the smile that you let show, one that grows wider and wider. Words are... hard to describe how you’re feeling. So you whirl round to face Dwirhian and draw her into a hug, whispering in awe into her ear, Thank you so much for showing me this. Truly.
You feel a smile press her cheek against yours as she whispers back: I’m so happy you like it.
On a bank dotted with intense purple and dazzling yellow flowers, under the boughs of a silver tree, you and Dwirhian are lying on your blanket amid the remains of your picnic. You’ve eaten the mild-mannered cheese and seasonal fruits that you brought, along with some cherrybread, raw carrots, and a very small amount of cold gurdats (Dwirhian explained apologetically that she doesn’t really know yet what most of the things they sell in the market are so her choices were more like wild guesses, you suggest that’s the best way to discover them really). You’ve drunk freshly brewed green and mint tea as well as some ‘half-and-half’, which Dwirhian was surprised to be told is not the widely-known delicacy that Nikja has led her to believe.
You’ve talked about your family, your brothers and dad who you last heard from 9 years ago (gosh it's coming up to 10 years soon, I wonder what they’re up to). But especially your mother, because though she’s passed she still had time to instill that awe of flowers in you, to see the wonder in every single one (You can’t help your scan of the valley in front of you as you talk of this). Something which rooted firmly in you and even helped you through the more lonely years of wondering you had before Kantas. Although! Those lonely years did eventually lead to bumping into the Professor in a library, where you then became her apprentice. (She’s a lovely halfling woman who knows way more about flowers than I do! She’s published and everything you know). But with talk of wondering and adventures you eventually lead onto asking Dwirhian why she left home to start adventuring, to do things like find this enchanting valley. Because really, Galavir sounds a magical place to be.
Oh, she says (looking up through the multi-coloured canopy to the grey sky, hands folded under her head, brass chain hanging in a delicate arc from the side of her pointed ear down nearly to her wrist and up again to the earlobe), it’s very common for us. It’s always been like that: you grow up and off you go, travel, experience things, come back full of stories. Explore a wind-scoured desert, watch an emerald butterfly sleep on a rust-red orchid, save a village from a manticore, save a manticore from a village, learn a new dance or a new language, find a valley of beautiful flowers, have lunch there with a beautiful florist... (she gives you a slow wink and then turns her eyes skywards again, her directness making you blush) … It was actually Levon who showed me this place, she continues; he wanted to sketch the flowers here but there were plant monsters working for the Queen of Winter who wanted to take control of it from the Queen of Magic or something… I wasn’t very clear about that part of it but we helped deal with the monsters. So it’s safe for picnics now, Dwirhian concludes, rolling onto her side to face you, with an arm folder under her head like a pillow. So do you think you’ll stay here for long, in the Dawnlands? she asks you.
You lean back on your hands as she asks this, screwing up your face a bit in thought before you catch her eye while answering. I might have arrived here by a wild magic accident initially but I’m not planning to leave any time soon, after all the wondering it’s nice being able to find somewhere to create roots you know? Find new family and friends (You join Dwirhian by lying on your back to look up at the canopy yourself, pausing as you take in the colours overhead). My old tribe has always stayed in one place, no one had left in hundreds of years before me, and I think that idea of sticking to and protecting a place has, well, stuck with me (You look quickly to Dwirhian for acknowledgement of the terrible pun; she’s grinning widely, perhaps at the joke or perhaps at you for making it). I’d like to stay here as long as the Dawnlands will have me. You thinking of travelling even further afield yourself? There’s certainly plenty more out there to see, and personally, I think wherever you went would be lucky to have you. Though I would miss your company thoroughly. You look over to give her your most genuine smile, because honestly, you really do mean it.
You’re so sweet, she says fondly, looking at you with gold-flecked eyes like desert bluebells. Then the eyes close and she answers: I don’t know. I always thought I’d go home in the end. Almost everyone always has. We go back to the village, back to the lake, and when we die our souls go to the lake… but it’s changed. People don’t believe in the lake any more, they say it was all a trick: the lake and the adventures and the stories and – I don’t know. I don’t know if I can go back there any more. But I can’t imagine growing old anywhere else either…
Dwirhian sighs and opens her eyes again, looking past you at the valley. I still believe in adventure, though, she says. I still want to explore and learn. So I probably won’t stay here for very long. Five years, ten, maybe twenty… who knows? As long as there are things to discover and learn and enjoy...
You sit back up slowly with a face of concern. That’s...that must be hard, to have things that you thought were a constant in your life change like that. But I think it’s good to stick to your dreams, even if they don’t always turn out how you expect them to, it really is the journey that you look back with fondness in the end. Following her eye out to the valley you continue your movement to stand fully up. Wait there, I’ll be back in a bit. Moving out further you begin to collect a number of different flowers, sticking to an overall colour theme of blue and gold. With your back kept to Dwirhian (so as to not ruin the small surprise) you slowly build up a flower crown with each flower different to the other, and the crown ends up positively bursting with them (you even find some strange little golden forget-me-nots that produce their own aura of glitter).
Once constructed you walk back and present it towards her, a trail of glitter showering down with the movement. You see her eyes widen as she sees you coming; she springs to her feet and takes a few steps towards you as you say: When I was unsure about what the next day would bring me, I always used to make one of these, it helped to settle my mind. These days I make them all the time no matter the occasion...but still, it might help? Or not, flowers mean different things to people after all.
Dwirhian reaches out and ever so carefully takes the crown, staring at it silently in her hands for a few moments before saying very softly, It’s so beautiful… and you just… made it, just like that! And such a lovely thing to say…
She hesitates for a moment and then tilts her head back to look up into your eyes, steps close to you (though taking care not to crush the flower crown between you), and then, rising on tip-toes, reaches a hand up to the back of your neck to gently pull your face down towards hers. You let it happen, your head moving further forward to meet her halfway as your eyes fall shut. You cannot help the small content smile as you do so. But then she seems to stop, uncertain – waiting. Sensing this hesitation you open your eyes and tilt your head ever so slightly to the side as you look her in the eyes before you speak. Dwirhian, I would very much like to kiss you, is that...is that okay with you?
The uncertainty in her eyes quickly disappears – Oh! Yes! I wasn’t sure if you – I mean –
And then she laughs.
And then she kisses you.
This wonderfully sweet writeup co-written with Dwirhian
You accept the hug gleefully, inquire on how she’s been since their last meeting in the mud of the Frog Bog, as well as offer to carry the mystery bundle in your own basket. You don’t inquire as to what’s inside as it’s perhaps a mystery best revealed later on.
Dwirhian thanks you and begins merrily telling you about a party held by someone called Nikja as she wiggles and prods the makeshift bag into a gap in your basket.
It takes a while; but just as you're starting to glance self-consciously around, there's a—
Right!
—and you look down to see the silver-blue face beaming up at you.
Shall we go? she asks. You nod your confirmation with enthusiasm, also producing a small bundle of snowdrops tied together with ribbon from seemingly nowhere.
You mention that you know the both of you are about to go to a place full of flowers, as you give them to Dwirhian, but no one can ever have too many flowers. She seems delighted, holding them close to her face and breathing in the faint fresh scent before turning back to you: I’m glad you said that, she smiles, because I’ve got so many I want to show you!
ı ı ı | [o] | ı ı ı
The Feythorn air is cold but your companion seems no more troubled by it than you, even though, like last time you met, she’s barefoot and wearing only a light, sleeveless jacket over her bandeau and long skirt. On your winding way among the dark conifers, Dwirhian has been asking you about the types of trees and forests that grow where you come from. You mention that even though your old home is very far from here, the forests were not too dissimilar to ones you’re currently walking through. Just that everything was covered with more snow. A lot more snow.
This inevitably leads onto you telling of stories from your childhood of what misadventures and childish pranks you would get up to in the snow with your brothers Bon and Fog. That is, until you realise you might have gotten a little carried away, as you haven’t asked Dwirhian what her home is like yourself. You ask if where she grew up was also just as cold, for she certainly seems comfortable enough outside in the chilly air.
Not usually, she says; it’s up in the mountains to the west, so it’s cooler than Daring Heights but not that cold. No snow, usually, only… actually it’ll be snowing about now probably, she says, a little softly. But most kinds of weather don’t bother us much, Dwirhian continues more brightly – it’s one of the blessings of the lake.
You walk on a while with Dwirhian explaining how important the lake is to the people of Galavir: how they play and swim in it, how they can drink its waters and not need any other food or drink, how they make their clothes from the reeds (she twirls and her skirt spins like a falling maple seed), how it’s the place their souls come from when they’re born and go back to when they die, how it gives them special affinities with water (which is probably why they’re less affected by the weather, because weather is mostly water isn’t it?), and – Ah! she exclaims, I think we’re nearly there! Oh, this will be fun: close your eyes!
You startle slightly, so wholly enraptured by Dwirhian’s talking and stories you feel as if the both of you only just left Daring Heights a few seconds ago. Quickly you oblige her request to cover your eyes with your hands, partially to cover your embarrassment at being so absorbed in the first place (it is solely to do with the unique ways of the people of Galavir, not how splendid Dwirhian’s smile is). You assuredly say you will not cheat by peeking through Blue’s eyes, the magpie on your shoulder giving a quick confirming chirp before poofing briefly out of existence.
You cautiously step forward, trusting Dwirhian as a guide. A hand touches you on the elbow and another rests lightly on the small of your back, and you feel yourself being steered slowly onwards.
As you get used to the darkness, you start to notice the air smelling sweet and fresh, like just after a cleansing summer rain, though the ground underfoot is dry as it slopes gradually downward. Soon the air even somehow feels fresher and more invigorating as the breeze blows over your skin, and the sounds of birds and beasts seem to get a little clearer and brighter. A little further and a couple of stumbles later, the gentle pressure of Dwirhian’s hands goes away and her voice says quietly, Okay – have a look!
For a moment all you can do is blink and blink, the brightness of the surrounding neon colours nearly blinding you. For the flowers are most certainly stunning. No. They’re just more in so many ways. The variety of petals and stems in shapes and patterns you never thought possible. You see flowers as small as a mouse’s cute little nose and ones as large as an elephant’s ears. Think of a colour, any colour, and it’s present somewhere in this treasure trove of flora in front of you.
As the air in front of you and above the flowers shimmers slightly with motes of light, you can’t help the smile that you let show, one that grows wider and wider. Words are... hard to describe how you’re feeling. So you whirl round to face Dwirhian and draw her into a hug, whispering in awe into her ear, Thank you so much for showing me this. Truly.
You feel a smile press her cheek against yours as she whispers back: I’m so happy you like it.
ı ı ı | [o] | ı ı ı
On a bank dotted with intense purple and dazzling yellow flowers, under the boughs of a silver tree, you and Dwirhian are lying on your blanket amid the remains of your picnic. You’ve eaten the mild-mannered cheese and seasonal fruits that you brought, along with some cherrybread, raw carrots, and a very small amount of cold gurdats (Dwirhian explained apologetically that she doesn’t really know yet what most of the things they sell in the market are so her choices were more like wild guesses, you suggest that’s the best way to discover them really). You’ve drunk freshly brewed green and mint tea as well as some ‘half-and-half’, which Dwirhian was surprised to be told is not the widely-known delicacy that Nikja has led her to believe.
You’ve talked about your family, your brothers and dad who you last heard from 9 years ago (gosh it's coming up to 10 years soon, I wonder what they’re up to). But especially your mother, because though she’s passed she still had time to instill that awe of flowers in you, to see the wonder in every single one (You can’t help your scan of the valley in front of you as you talk of this). Something which rooted firmly in you and even helped you through the more lonely years of wondering you had before Kantas. Although! Those lonely years did eventually lead to bumping into the Professor in a library, where you then became her apprentice. (She’s a lovely halfling woman who knows way more about flowers than I do! She’s published and everything you know). But with talk of wondering and adventures you eventually lead onto asking Dwirhian why she left home to start adventuring, to do things like find this enchanting valley. Because really, Galavir sounds a magical place to be.
Oh, she says (looking up through the multi-coloured canopy to the grey sky, hands folded under her head, brass chain hanging in a delicate arc from the side of her pointed ear down nearly to her wrist and up again to the earlobe), it’s very common for us. It’s always been like that: you grow up and off you go, travel, experience things, come back full of stories. Explore a wind-scoured desert, watch an emerald butterfly sleep on a rust-red orchid, save a village from a manticore, save a manticore from a village, learn a new dance or a new language, find a valley of beautiful flowers, have lunch there with a beautiful florist... (she gives you a slow wink and then turns her eyes skywards again, her directness making you blush) … It was actually Levon who showed me this place, she continues; he wanted to sketch the flowers here but there were plant monsters working for the Queen of Winter who wanted to take control of it from the Queen of Magic or something… I wasn’t very clear about that part of it but we helped deal with the monsters. So it’s safe for picnics now, Dwirhian concludes, rolling onto her side to face you, with an arm folder under her head like a pillow. So do you think you’ll stay here for long, in the Dawnlands? she asks you.
You lean back on your hands as she asks this, screwing up your face a bit in thought before you catch her eye while answering. I might have arrived here by a wild magic accident initially but I’m not planning to leave any time soon, after all the wondering it’s nice being able to find somewhere to create roots you know? Find new family and friends (You join Dwirhian by lying on your back to look up at the canopy yourself, pausing as you take in the colours overhead). My old tribe has always stayed in one place, no one had left in hundreds of years before me, and I think that idea of sticking to and protecting a place has, well, stuck with me (You look quickly to Dwirhian for acknowledgement of the terrible pun; she’s grinning widely, perhaps at the joke or perhaps at you for making it). I’d like to stay here as long as the Dawnlands will have me. You thinking of travelling even further afield yourself? There’s certainly plenty more out there to see, and personally, I think wherever you went would be lucky to have you. Though I would miss your company thoroughly. You look over to give her your most genuine smile, because honestly, you really do mean it.
You’re so sweet, she says fondly, looking at you with gold-flecked eyes like desert bluebells. Then the eyes close and she answers: I don’t know. I always thought I’d go home in the end. Almost everyone always has. We go back to the village, back to the lake, and when we die our souls go to the lake… but it’s changed. People don’t believe in the lake any more, they say it was all a trick: the lake and the adventures and the stories and – I don’t know. I don’t know if I can go back there any more. But I can’t imagine growing old anywhere else either…
Dwirhian sighs and opens her eyes again, looking past you at the valley. I still believe in adventure, though, she says. I still want to explore and learn. So I probably won’t stay here for very long. Five years, ten, maybe twenty… who knows? As long as there are things to discover and learn and enjoy...
You sit back up slowly with a face of concern. That’s...that must be hard, to have things that you thought were a constant in your life change like that. But I think it’s good to stick to your dreams, even if they don’t always turn out how you expect them to, it really is the journey that you look back with fondness in the end. Following her eye out to the valley you continue your movement to stand fully up. Wait there, I’ll be back in a bit. Moving out further you begin to collect a number of different flowers, sticking to an overall colour theme of blue and gold. With your back kept to Dwirhian (so as to not ruin the small surprise) you slowly build up a flower crown with each flower different to the other, and the crown ends up positively bursting with them (you even find some strange little golden forget-me-nots that produce their own aura of glitter).
Once constructed you walk back and present it towards her, a trail of glitter showering down with the movement. You see her eyes widen as she sees you coming; she springs to her feet and takes a few steps towards you as you say: When I was unsure about what the next day would bring me, I always used to make one of these, it helped to settle my mind. These days I make them all the time no matter the occasion...but still, it might help? Or not, flowers mean different things to people after all.
Dwirhian reaches out and ever so carefully takes the crown, staring at it silently in her hands for a few moments before saying very softly, It’s so beautiful… and you just… made it, just like that! And such a lovely thing to say…
She hesitates for a moment and then tilts her head back to look up into your eyes, steps close to you (though taking care not to crush the flower crown between you), and then, rising on tip-toes, reaches a hand up to the back of your neck to gently pull your face down towards hers. You let it happen, your head moving further forward to meet her halfway as your eyes fall shut. You cannot help the small content smile as you do so. But then she seems to stop, uncertain – waiting. Sensing this hesitation you open your eyes and tilt your head ever so slightly to the side as you look her in the eyes before you speak. Dwirhian, I would very much like to kiss you, is that...is that okay with you?
The uncertainty in her eyes quickly disappears – Oh! Yes! I wasn’t sure if you – I mean –
And then she laughs.
And then she kisses you.
This wonderfully sweet writeup co-written with Dwirhian
