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Post by pastels on Feb 9, 2019 2:04:33 GMT
The two women—Althea and Citrine—introduced themselves as well; Proserpina beamed when the latter matched her flourish, with a dash of magic scattering a myriad of choice scents in the air. This one seemed fun! She had met her fair share of individuals who scorned her pleasantries, believing themselves to be above common courtesies and the tiniest bit of style, and their slanted judgment made future interactions a pain. Of course, her personal opinions mattered little, then; as a courtier she had to ensure that their House maintained good relations with both the grasping, too-eager families from the lower ranks, and the wealth-laden, overtly proud branches of near-nobility above. Oh, but if she wasn’t tempted to toss the contents of a good goblet of wine onto a face every now and then!
“Most gracious of you two.” She dipped her head at the praise, satisfaction and gracious acceptance evident on her features. It was a well-practiced expression. At the mention of commissions and their singular condition, the tiefling laughed again, in agreement with the firebird’s statement. In a sea of spectacular works, hers shone from the rest with its whimsical lines and vibrant colors. Now, Proserpina couldn’t pretend to know a whit about glassblowing; but, as she said earlier, she grew up amongst masterworks in art. She had conviction in her judgment. “With your talent and skill, so readily apparent to the eye? Of course! As for my songs, I would recommend you find me at The Blue Mermaid, should you find the time—but ‘tis too… peaceful for a rousing performance.”
She trailed off, taking a mental step away from the conversation, to let the two talk more. She had observed with some amusement the stunned pauses Thea and Citrine shared upon first seeing each other and now, the glimmer of amazement shining clear in the artisan’s eyes as a lighthouse beacon in a fog. Perhaps they had found a quality they both shared. Perhaps it ran deeper than that, as the unearthly blood in her veins filled her with strange, unnerving compulsions at the darkest of times. Either way, she gave them some privacy. She still had to buy that trinket, after all!
But as she turned to inspect the rest of Thea’s wares, a slight tug on her hand pulled her back in place. Proserpina locked eyes with a small child, face framed with a veritable mop of fiery red hair. Were it not for the green skin and the yellow eyes, she would have thought this one was related—and brought along on a shopping trip, no less—to the firebird. “Oh!” She exclaimed in surprise, not at the prospect of a lost child, but rather at the novelty of seeing a goblin. Chessenta was not… friendly towards most the bestial races with perhaps the exception of Toreus, where all races were warmly welcomed so long as they have the coin. But she—half-bidden memories of bright eyes in the darkness, as the merciless skies bled gloom down into the forgotten alleys of Mordulkin, and clawed hands pushing forth a moth-eaten blanket—was no stranger to their kind.
“What is the problem, darling?” Proserpina bent down slightly, free hand resting on her knees. Her voice was the perfect mixture of reassurance and warmth. “Are you lost? Where are your parents?’
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 9, 2019 3:33:35 GMT
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Citrine Redbriar,” Thea made the same graceful half bow to the bird woman, smiling.
She smiled, preening at the news that Citrine had come for her art. Some day, Thea promised herself, it wouldn’t be a surprise to hear such things. Some day soon.
Proserpine stepped away, after a tantalizing suggestion for where Thea could come to see her play. She was glad that her intuition about the tiefling had panned out; Thea had been sure, but it would have been very embarrassing to make such a mistake. The Blue Mermaid - Thea would mark it well.
She turned back to Citrine, looking down at the orb. “No, i haven’t,” Thea grinned. Her first storm orb had been years ago, but it wasn’t quite as if she has learned to mass produce them since then. The first one had exhausted her; she had been bed-ridden for several days following, stripped to almost nothing by the raw power of the lightning singing in her veins. It was only because Dominic had been so impressed that she had forced herself to do it again - and the second time, it had been easier.
Now? She could do them almost like any other piece of freeblown work.
To capture something else in an orb - Thea hadn’t thought of it in a long time. Wind, she decided; a cyclone swirling in a glass tube. It would be an incredible feat, to trap such a thing. Would the motion of the wind be visible through the glass? She could add some gold flakes, Thea decided, to give it shape. Something in her tingled at the thought, something deeper than her glassblowing singing -
“I plan to try,” Thea promised, smiling at the bird woman. “And I have seen a kraken, once,” she grinned. “It was a memorable,” She brushed two fingers against the blown glass sculpture.
She glanced to Proserpina; what looked like a red-headed goblin child was tugging on her sleeve; Proserpina knelt, talking to the girl.
“Not many others have been in, yet – we’ve only just opened,” Thea noted. She glanced around the exhibit, as if it might somehow reveal the goblin child’s parents, and her eyes settled on the wand table. For a moment, she froze, but – she had shifted the wands around moments ago, after the wizard had left. She took a half step towards the table, brushing her fingers over the conspicuously-empty place. Only Proserpina and Citrine had been there since, and she couldn’t imagine either of them taking something.
Slowly, Thea looked down at the child. She didn’t say anything for the moment, waiting; it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, to have a wand lost, but neither could she quite let the child walk away, at least without learning whether she might have taken it. They were beautiful things, the wand, and Thea remembered being an unruly child herself; as long as it was returned, she decided, she wouldn’t make a fuss.
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Post by enchilada on Feb 9, 2019 5:48:02 GMT
“I don’t need parents! I’m a big goblin now!” It was kind of offensive to suggest she needed to be supervised. Of course she didn’t! She hadn’t been for three years straight, or thereabouts. There’s a dip between end of year winter and the new year winter, she couldn’t tell how many it had been. Her mind couldn’t couple the two into one winter, but she had tried on some parchment before to work it out. Truthfully, it was a library book, but details, details. But according to what she knew, she should have... started to grow up, a little. She didn’t know what growing up was like, exactly, but she wasn’t like a grown up goblin. She was like how she’d always been. And adults were... mature. Maturer, a little. Enchee didn’t think she’d ever grow up.
Now she had a clearer view of the lady, she couldn’t help but state her curiosity. “What are you?” Enchee half-whispered to her. She stared straight at her face, and managed to refrain from touching it. She really wanted to, though. Enchee only could name elves, humans, dwarves, and goblins. She didn’t know enough to distinguish between the more human-skinned little races, and she had a vague understanding that there were at least purple elves and human-skinned elves. What she did not know how to name, kneeled before her. To be honest, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone like it, bright purplish skin, horns, fully solid colour eyes. To be honest, it was a little scary, but Enchee was brave, and she could talk to anyone she wanted to, whenever she wanted to.
She wondered if Crucible had met a lady like this before. She’d definitely tell him all about her, and if he knew then he could tell her more things about magenta girls with big tall horns! That was exciting. Crucible knew lots and lots and Enchee was desperate to pry every nugget of knowledge from his brain. She had to know everything. It was as simple as that.
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Post by pastels on Feb 10, 2019 12:35:18 GMT
“Of course,” Proserpina amended, voice still honey-sweet, with a readiness that came from knowing children far more precocious than this one. “My apologies. I haven’t known enough goblins to correctly guess age at a glance.” Ooh, how this little exchange so reminded her of Eustakhios! That boy would anger from the slightest thing. It would have been funny, had it not been her job to deal with his outbursts. She always knew when he was in one of his explosive moods; he would stomp after her into the garden, cheeks puffed out and face red as a sunburst tomato, and then tell on the unlucky soul who bruised his ego from a careless comment or the like. Those were her earliest lessons on courtly intrigue: how to divert another’s emotions towards the fulfillment of your own goal. He was like a bull, then: huffing and grumbling, feet roving deep tracks into soft soil, the flowers she planted pressed deep into the tracks. And, like one would with an agitated bull, she would “convince” him to expend his energies on physical activities—a fancy term for manual labor, really—she needed doing around the manor.
The novelty wore off when they entered their adolescence, when the episodes included less playground scrapes and more aggressive showboating for the favors of women.
“Oh, did I drift off? Silly me! You reminded me of my little brother. He’s not quite so little too, nowadays!” Proserpina snapped out of her reverie with a soft jolt. She caught the tail end of the glassblower’s observations—no foot traffic around these parts yet, as they’ve just opened shop. Curious. As her eyes met the goblin girl’s own, she suddenly remembered the question posed. With a flourish, the courtier drew her hands up under her chin, as if to emphasize her face. She winked. “Why, I’m a tiefling!”
Fully embracing her new role as a walking, talking model of her strange race, Proserpina then tilted her head to the side, careful to keep her… crown from goring into Thea’s works. She tapped at the side of her cheek, on the smooth expanse of skin which led from eye to horn. “Do you want to touch? ‘Tis a common request.” Thank goodness she took her chains off—although the notches on the bone, made with gold strips, were there to stay. They had been grafted on when she was a child; her horns grew over them in time.
Waiting for the child—er, big child to take her up on her offer, Proserpina kept her eyes on the opposite end of the exhibition hall. It would be a delight, if she did. Many were unnerved by the sight of her horns, which brought forth memories of devils and demons during their brief, yet bloody, ascent in Faerun. It would not be a surprise if this one found it daunting, too. She also half-expected the parents to burst in through the doors, trilling for their lost young, at any second. She risked a quick look at the goblin and said, “And I am named Proserpina. How about you, dear? What’s your name?”
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Post by enchilada on Feb 10, 2019 17:14:46 GMT
“I’m Enchee! Enchee Laah’daah!” And with that she grasped the horns gently, with curious, travelling fingers. She wasn’t sure what to expect, maybe for them to be a little colder, or feel more substantial. Horns were a new one, but they were fun. “Prossserrrpiinaaah.” The goblin said the name slowly, trying to work it out. It wasn’t particularly difficult, but most names were less... fancy. She thought this lady had to be very fancy if she had horns, and if she had a name like Proserpina. But if she was fancy, she didn’t choose to look too much that way. Maybe she knew that people would steal her things if she wore them, but then, where were they? She wasn’t doing a good job of looking after her things, clearly, because they sure weren’t here. That meant they could be anywhere! Enchee wondered if she knew how dangerous it was to just leave things around like that. “You’re funny.” She giggled to herself, taking her hands down from her horns and holding her own cheeks as she laughed. Cute, squishy, innocent looking goblin face.
She forgot about Crucible, he probably knew that she would go for a walk after work. He was probably doing something too, since he was as much his own warforged as she was her own goblin. If he was worried, he wouldn’t be later when she arrived home. She’d have to be careful and not bring out the wand for a while, until she’d done enough work to warrant it. The weight of the pouch? Just coppers? What if he looked? Maybe she ought to buy something edible to get rid of any evidence. Maybe she was thinking too far ahead.
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 11, 2019 6:31:53 GMT
Thea watched Prosperina with the little goblin girl. She kept a faint smile on her face; it wasn’t too hard to feign non-concern about the wand, truth be told. The one missing was the plainest of them, and the cost of its materials were covered already by the sale she’d made today.
All the same, stealing was wrong, and Thea didn’t mind trying to stop the girl, if she had done it.
She cringed in second-hand - third-hand? - embarrassment when Prosperina offered to let the girl feel her horns. Yes, the girl was a child, and she felt Prosperina was likely just trying to make her feel comfortable. But, Thea felt, the tiefling shouldn’t encourage such behavior. What if the girl wanted to feel an elf’s ears next?
When there was a lull in the conversation, Thea stepped forward, kneeling down as well. She was careful not to box Enchee off, leaving her an escape route.
“Hi Enchee,” Thea kept a smile on her face, careful not to emote anger, nothing stronger than a faint concern. “My name is Thea! Thank you for coming to see my glass.”
Thea would do her best to look Enchee in the eyes, her hair rustling in a gentle breeze. “Enchee, did you see the wand that used to be here?” Thea reached over, one hand resting on the now empty spot for just a moment. “I’m worried it might have fallen on the floor. Maybe you picked it up?”
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Post by enchilada on Feb 11, 2019 7:46:51 GMT
Enchee folded her arms, yellowed smile fading into a frown. “Just because I’m a goblin I must have taken it, huh?”
Enchee was used to this kind of conversation, truth be told. And speaking of the truth, it was hardly surprising that it did fall on the sneaky little girl with bulging pockets. She hoped to throw this blue lady off by making it a goblin thing. It was embarrassing to some people, enough that they’d drop it all together, and since these didn’t seem like ladies of the streets, she liked her chances. The fancier you were, the quicker you were to cover your tracks.
Although, it didn’t necessarily cover Enchee’s.
“That’s mean, lady! I’m a good girl!” It didn’t take much for Enchee to cry, she just cast her mind back to pretty much anything before she found Queso and that was that. Queso didn’t fix much, but she was at least a living thing that was there for her.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 11, 2019 20:49:09 GMT
The goblin, Enchee, whom she met earlier outside the shop had seemed to finally buck up the courage to not only come inside, but to also join their small circle of conversation. Stepping enough to the side to make space - the adjustment as natural as breathing, Citrine couldn't help but barely keep back a grin at the interaction between Enchee and Proserpina. There were a multitude of different ways a Tiefling's horns could be construed as… one of which was indeed the simple desire to feel something that usually only graced the forehead of beats vs humanoids. The phoenix figured she was discuss with the magenta sculpture a potential pairing up of song and music later. For now? It'd be rude to interrupt the learning lesson going on. But she was intrigued at the sort of singing Prosperina would be most apt towards. Slow ballads perhaps? Whimsical tales of mythology and fancy? She wanted to know - she lept at any chance to expand her own repertoire of more upbeat, shanty-style singing.
"If ye plan on trying, let me know. Aye have memories o' many ah storm, o' all sorts, tha' could be potentially shared." She didn't go into too much detail now, it would have undoubtedly lead to a much more lengthy discussion that would be best held either after hours with a drink or at the very least a stroll through the streets. At the kraken? She grinned a devilish beam. "Aye, tha' they are. We'll 'ave tae compare stories! Nae matter 'ow small, teh encounter leave a ah mark on ye." Her hand drifted back to the hip where her own mark was more vibrantly made permanent with ink and magic.
When Thea had her gaze and hands distracted Citrine followed suit with a bird tilt of her head, curious as to what would have drawn her eye. It didn't take long - there, where a wand should have been, was an empty space. Side-stepping so she could see around the genasi but also look to the only other person that had entered the shop, a quick gut instinct lead her to certain assumptions. She'd tuned out slightly the conversation of parents and horns, but quickly zeroed back in when Thea asked her question.
And that's when goblin hell broke loose.
Gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes at the wallowing child like sound that was Enchee crying, loud to her sensitive bird ears. "Oi. Lass!" She snapped, the sharp tone cutting through like a coach's sport whistle. "Shut et." She had no patience for the antics of a child… perhaps another reason she constantly insisted to Malakbel that she had no desire for children of her own. "Teh owner asked ye ah question, naethin' o' ah accusation o' stealin' o' theft." Her eyes narrowed as she turned to face the one she was closest in height to. "But ye sprog like reaction es near damnin' tae say otherwise, aye?" She closed the gap between her and Enchee and put her hands on her hips, wings flared a bit to seem bigger - a common enough stance of someone who needed every bit of aid in seeming more in control or confident.
"Dane blame ye kin fer ye own actions." She was speaking with a rather short-fuse tone of voice. "Be proud o' yeself an' make yeself better." A little soap-boxy, but the pirate couldn't stand the weak willed type of person who couldn't hold themselves accountable. Actions had consequences. Always. "Nae." Her toned softened a bit, but her posture was still firm. "Answer Thea's question, Lass. An' remember," She went to a whisper now, for Enchee only to hear (but with how quiet it was? No doubt the others heard too). She straightened her posture, loosening up and relaxing her wings back to normal, the slightly aggressive posture she'd had faded. There was very little chance Enchee didn't have the wand. Her pockets were full, her hands were hidden, and the missing wand had been very near the entrance.
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Post by enchilada on Feb 11, 2019 22:43:10 GMT
Enchee chewed her lip, then nodded quickly at the feathery red woman. “When I came in I swept past too fast. I’m not used to flowey clothes.” She reached into her coin purse and withdrew the wand. Her ears fell, flush against her face. “I get so defensive, it’s really hard when you get accused all the time for no good reason. I’m a good little girl! I just. You’re all so big I was scared to ask you to put it back.” Enchee held it out to the blue woman, Thea. Thea was a name, it kept her personalised. She’d keep it on the tongue, that way she wasn’t scary.
In truth, it was intimidating to be in a room of adults, talking about adult things. Enchee didn’t know anything about anything half the time, but she desperately wanted - needed - to be involved in some way. She didn’t really know any other children. She wished she did sometimes, you learn how to make friends from them first, and she didn’t think that offering the bread crusts in her pocket would make the kinds of friends she wanted these days. She loved that she didn’t have to talk to the weirdos on the street anymore. She felt safer.
But on the topic of offerings, Enchee felt like she needed to be more innocent. She’d lied too much, and she was worried it would show. “Look! Queso would completely agree! Please don’t think I’m like all the other goblins! I know it’s hard sometimes.” Once the wand was out, the goblin girl pulled out her mouse, Queso, answering any questions about her wriggling pocket. She sniffed around, then dashed up her arm. “People watch me in their shops a lot because of how I look and it makes me really sad. Crucible says that who I am is on the inside but no one can see inside except me and maybe he can.”
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Post by pastels on Feb 12, 2019 3:33:06 GMT
Proserpina looked at the girl then the glassblower, the glow of pleasure on her face mellowing to a neutral expression. It was a relief that Enchee gave her own introduction and reacted the way she did to her presence—a cynical voice in the subdued corners of her mind, the one that she couldn’t tune out entirely, remarked how sad it would have been had she failed to charm a child. Another failure atop a mountain of its kind. Really, Pippa, the voice seethed, you had one job. She waved it away to focus on the here and now.
The conversation, however, took a turn for the worse. It was easy for Proserpina to catch the implication in Thea’s words, as easy as breathing; she herself thought it was plausible, but… The waterworks started. Proserpina cooed and wrung her hands, reverting to her old behavior—putting out fires. “Oh, dear! I’m sure that’s not what she meant!” But as she was stringing words of comfort together, Citrine jumped in, voice and tone sharp as steel against a whetstone.
Proserpina was rooted to the spot, half-sure her face registered stunned surprise even as she detached from the conversation. Oh. Well, her approach surely wouldn’t work now. Perhaps it was time to switch to a new method, then? Still kneeling, she blinked when the firebird leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper, her words as subtle as a stage whisper in an empty auditorium. Gods bless her, but Thea’s section in the hall was exactly that. Then, as if following Citrine’s instructions to the letter, Enchee told her cover story. The tiefling couldn’t help but stifle a smile at how obvious the lie was.
“… Well, good on you for returning it, Enchee,” Proserpina casually interjected, voice smooth as silk, as the girl extended the wand towards its creator. She carefully stood up, pulling on her skirt to shake the dust off the lower hem. “’Tis troubling when you live up to common perceptions of your race. Many crumble under the burden.” It was left unsaid that tieflings too, had a certain… reputation following them, almost as bad as that of the drow.
She had to wince when Enchee followed up on her explanation. It was a common mistake she too used to commit as a child; tacking on lies one after the other, hoping it would cover the flaws of the original one. At least the goblin added in new hooks—appeal to emotion, a (cute) pet, and someone named Crucible. A smile pulled on Proserpina’s lips, even as she shook her head. Smart girl. If Thea and Citrine were less perceptive, the conversation could be over in the next breath. She dared a quick look at the two other women. If. They were quite keen, in their own rights… as their words and actions already showed.
Back to the topic, though… She would not be redirected so easily. Proserpina cast a leisurely gaze on the others, the faint smile still gracing her features. “And so the wand is back. Perhaps, Enchee, you should learn to speak up more often? I find that a lack of self-confidence highly diminishes one’s opportunities. Besides that, I feel that your reasons were… adequate, but ‘tis my personal opinion,” she said, and her tone was laden with meaning. “What say you, Thea?”
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 12, 2019 3:46:29 GMT
Thea’s eyebrows went straight up at Enchee’s accusation of anti-goblin sentiment, and up even higher when the girl burst into (what Thea felt were) fake tears.
Thea sighed a little, shifting as Proserpina began to interject in a bright tone, trying to smooth things over. It wasn’t how she would have handled it, but -
Citrine’s sharp whistle cut through the air. Reflexively, Thea pulled back, giving the bird woman space. She kept a carefully blank face as Citrine delicately provided Enchee with a cover story, as if she couldn’t hear a word. It was even hard to keep a straight face as Enchee parroted it back at Thea, almost word for word.
Thea took the wand from Enchee’s hand, crouching a little to do so. Before she could say anything, Enchee was babbling again, holding out a cute-looking mouse which scrambled promptly up her arm.
Proserpina injected again, as if worried what else the little goblin girl might say, with a heavy emphasis on Enchee’s explanation being satisfactory. Thea raised an eyebrow at her, then, with the part of her face she was confident Enchee couldn’t see, winked.
“We are much taller than you,” Thea agreed, solemnly. “Thank you for the wand, Enchee.” She paused, unable to resist a smile. “Queso is very cute. Is Queso a boy mouse or a girl mouse?” If Queso was visible, Thea would extend a few fingers for the mouse to sniff, the wand held in her other hand. “Sometimes people can see who you are on the inside by how you treat those around you, especially those who need your help - like a mouse.”
Enchee was lying; Thea was quite sure that even Proserpina knew it. But Thea had the wand back, and no harm had been done; she didn’t care to make a fuss about it. Best to move on.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 12, 2019 17:06:29 GMT
Raising an eyebrow at the emergence of the mouse, Citrine couldn't mask the scrunched up distain look on her nose, lip curling up enough to show, clearly, how pleased she was. Mice, rats, rodents… none of them were ever good signs on a ship. They ate the grain, tore into storage bins, and made a general mess that caused her an unending amount of trouble in soothing the ruffled arguments of the ship's cook. And if the cook wasn't happy? No one was happy.
"Aye… Queso…" She agreed, tone a bit flat - the cuteness quality of the mouse completely lost on the birdfolk. "An' Aye dan' care one whit ye're ah goblin, Lass, nor do Aye assume how close, o' nae close, ye are tae behavin' as ye race usually does." Living through multiple lifetimes as different races and professions made it extremely hard for Citrine to be any sort of racist. The other two woman soothed over her harsher words with coos of their own - Citrine just crossed her arms. She wasn't fooled the least bit.
"Oi! Nae much taller en some regards." Citrine pipped up, adding onto Thea's agreement about height, arms still crossed. At just a bit over 4 foot, Citrine wasn't that tall either, despite how 'tall' she talked and behaved. "Nae Lass - Enchee." She made sure to use her name this time to keep the girl's attention. "People watch ye just as anyone watches someone small en ah shop. We're easy tae miss, low hangin' items can tend tae drop enta pockets. Nae our fault nae es et?" She cleared her throat. "Goblin's aren't teh only ones tae face teh scrutiny o' honest folks Lass." With all her trinkets, flourishes, and rather nonchalant manner of speaking in circles? On top of her style of dress? It was near impossible to not tag the firebird as a sailor - and pirate not long after that. Finally dropping her arms Citrine let one hand rise up into her hair, to twirl at a curled piece of copper that kept a braid secure. "Ef ye goin' tae steal, steal from those who be dishonest as well. Finder's keeper's, tis part o' teh Code, but ye don't take ferm ye mates o' honest folk who're working fer their coin."
The message spell was for Enchee's mental ears only, the ventriloquism trick aided by magic to ensure her opinions on the 'finders keepers' rule of items ending in pockets wasn't shared to the room at large. Just as Enchee was a goblin? Citrine was a pirate. At the end of the day? Some stereotypes rang true…
"But nae tha's all well en good nae! Teh wand twas kept ferm breakin' an' we've all met new faces. Ye've met ah tiefling, ah phoenix, an' ah air genasi all en one fell swoop. Bet ye cards didn't prepare ye for tha', did they Enchee?" She called back to the cards she'd seen the goblin consulting earlier outside the shop - the friendly smile finally coming back to her face after all the seriousness of their talk before.
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Post by enchilada on Feb 12, 2019 17:33:42 GMT
Her ears pricked up at the message, turning slightly to figure out the origin. Visibly, it had spooked her. But she concentrated on the actual moral content. She could understand it, but would try to talk to Citrine about it later in more detail, since it was something of a strange concept to her. So many strange concepts in such small amounts of time. She’d have to tastefully adapt the story for Crucible later. He knew everything so he’d be able to make it make complete sense.
“... They didn’t.” Enchee smiled gently, she felt much more comfortable now. “What’s all those things mean though?” She thumbed the cards, slightly embarrassed by their existence in her pocket. They were troublesome, sometimes, and Enchee read them with a child’s eye. Granted, a child that was forced to grow up in ways she hated to think about, but she was even less developed than other children her age, she hadn’t experienced true parental guidance in a long time, and her homeschooled, cobbled together education had stopped abruptly too. She practiced reading every day, because of signs and stuff like that, and counting as in gold, but nothing terribly complex. She doubted she could write well anymore. Enchee brushed off the cards comment.
“I know you’re a tiefling.” Enchee grabbed Proserpina’s hand again. “But what is that in the scheme of things?”
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Post by pastels on Feb 13, 2019 15:19:00 GMT
Proserpina smiled when the glassblower winked at her, relieved that there would be no persecution around these parts. She turned her gaze down towards Enchee again. As Citrine and the goblin girl continued their conversation, she watched for any telltale wriggling under the latter’s clothes for Queso. The tiny mouse was adorable, to be sure, but hopefully it had the presence of mind to stay on its mistress instead of scurrying from corner to corner. The Dock Ward, in particular, had no short supply of half-feral mousers prowling along the warehouses.
Personally, she was a—what was the term her father used, again? Ah. Dog lord. She had Olive, growing up. Dear old Olive was a bloodhound, the champion of her father’s litter during his prime. She had scars across her face, which twisted her jowls into this horrendous rictus, from hunts in which she took down beasts thrice her size. Those days, she was too old to join the hunts, and for her service she occupied a position of pride and respect in the household. Moved as quiet as a whisper, too. Even Eustakhios knew better than to prod her. But Proserpina thought that ornery dog was the sweetest creature to have ever been graced the breath of life. She still had fond memories of walking ‘round the estate with the bloodhound by her side.
… How much was a dog here in Waterdeep, anyway?
She was brought back to reality by a press on her palm. Proserpina blinked then looked down at Enchee. Upon hearing the question, she winced—now that was a delicate topic. She had ever avoided bringing up the origins of her race in casual conversation, trusting that it would inspire some sort of zealotry or aggression from the listener. When people are reminded of certain things… Well. At best, it creates a spot of awkwardness she has to smooth over in the next breath. How does one breach this topic without inviting such bad luck?
“Well, dear!” Proserpina wrung her hands out as she spoke, every word deliberately enunciated with an airy curl of humor, “That’s because many believe that our kind is… cursed. You see, people believe that if you’re a tiefling, it means someone somewhere in your bloodline did something very unwise, like dealing with evil creatures, and you’ve got the features to show for it.” She paused. The smile on her face fell just the tiniest bit, warmth giving way to wry nostalgia. “That means they believe you’re… naturally predisposed towards chaos and malevolent acts, or that you’re a font of misfortune, wreaking plague upon their crops and disease upon their children. ’Tis not fun getting chased down by a mob, let me tell you that.” She kept her thoughts to herself, but those were memories she would never forget. She saw true evil then, on those days, deep in the pores of the men and women who chased her across the wheat fields. Even now, Proserpina still felt a little nervous when around crowds... especially in rural areas.
The tiefling extends her hand in a sweeping gesture, obviously meant to draw attention to the whole of her appearance. Her smile brightened like a sun appearing from behind a sulky grey cloud as she added, “But, Waterdeep is quite nice and diverse. Wouldn’t you say so, Enchee? Have you been here long?” The last question was addressed to everyone; Thea’s relative anonymity implied she must be at least new in the local trade circles, but as for the stay…?
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 13, 2019 18:16:45 GMT
Thea rose, leaving Enchee to Proserpina when the little goblin went for the tiefling’s hand and leapt headfirst into the most awkward conversational topic imaginable. She doubted Enchee wanted much in the way of conversation with her at the moment; she wasn’t surprised that Enchee felt closest to Proserpina, who had defended her readily and obligingly, over Thea and Citrine, although she also wouldn’t be surprised if the young goblin was a bit fascinated by the bird-woman. Thea certainly was.
Thea set the wand back in place, glancing around the shop once more.
The door swung open, and a stout, barrel-chested dwarf stomped in, face set in a deep frown. He glanced around, looking at Thea’s exhibit, and seemed to hesitate.
Thea was a bit too far away to call out, but she smiled, welcomingly, and kept her gaze towards the dwarf. He made eye contact a moment later, let out a ‘hrmph’ noise, and stomped across the room towards Thea.
“This yours?” He asked, scowling a little.
“Good afternoon,” Thea said, politely. “Yes – I’m Althea Baring, and this is my exhibit.”
The dwarf snorted. “Orsik Loderr,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was a few inches shorter than Citrine, although Thea guessed he’d be taller if she took her boots off – but he was probably three times the size of the bird-woman, maybe more. “I’m looking for something beautiful,” he glanced around the shop, then back at Thea, scowling again.
Thea paused, glancing at the tables of what she considered – if not her best work, very high quality, all of it gorgeous, gleaming glass. “I see.” She smiled at him, doing her best to project a welcoming, friendly manner. “Are you looking for a gift?” She asked, delicately, taking a guess.
Orsik glared at her, the scowl on his face seeming to deepen. He shifted, obviously uncomfortable, and nodded.
“For someone special?” Thea asked.
“Of course!” Orsik grumbled, casting a long glance around the shop, his gaze sweeping irritably over Enchee, Proserpina and Citrine alike, before returning to Thea. “You don’t think I’d be looking at these – these fribbles otherwise, do you?”
Thea managed to suppress her smile. She wasn’t remotely offended; actually, she was a little pleased that the dwarf had picked this place to come for a gift. “Something for a lady?” She asked, running her fingers over one of the necklaces hanging from the side of the center table.
Orsik stared at her, for a long moment, as if trying to figure out whether she was insulting him. “… Yes,” he uncrossed his arms, finally, shifting a bit. “… My wife,” he added, a moment later, half-mumbling the words into his beard.
Thea smiled now, glancing around the shop again. “I’m sure there will be something here she’ll like,” she said, cheerfully. “We’ll just have to find it.”
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