The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed)

The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Printable Version

+- Hydaelyn Role-Players (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18)
+-- Forum: Role-Play (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18/forumdisplay.php?fid=27)
+--- Forum: Town Square (IC) (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18/forumdisplay.php?fid=21)
+--- Thread: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) (/showthread.php?tid=9548)

Pages: 1 2 3

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Elysia - 02-07-2015

Xavarian's pre-slumber rhyme hadn't helped, or perhaps it should have been uttered again before they'd parted ways inside the inn. For in the morning Avis found herself dragged into consciousness by the abrupt cessation of yet another dream of Ul'dah. It hadn't been an especially unpleasant or vivid dream - indeed, she could recall little about it almost moments after, as she sat up in bed and rubbed sleep out of her eyes; it was simply the sort in which one pursued the fleeing visions endlessly, wondering what the hell happened, who did what, and why - why - why this need to remember. Something old, once again. Something from a very young age that she once loved. Though she could not put into any concrete detail what this memory was, its scent lingered.Â

She rose sluggishly, sliding out from beneath the sheets only to find that a mildly alarming quantity of sand lay in her bed. Brow furrowed, Avis brushed them absently onto the floor, pulling salt-stiffened hair out of her face with her other hand. Another part of her mind began fighting for dominion over the one lost in the fruitless search for old things. Her lips curved into a half smile, she looked instinctively towards the door and -

There they were. Letters.Â

She picked them up carefully from where they lay, brushing any dirt or sand that lay on them off, and padded back excitedly to her bed with the two precious items. She drew her feet up to her chest as she read, back against the wall, and in so doing restored more specks of sand to their undesirable occupation of her sheets.Â

Mirth and amusement lit up her features as she read them both. He hadÂ fallen hard - though, in truth, so had she, perhaps. She'd needed little persuasion towards the end, though Xavarian had intended none of it, probably did not anticipate or realize the effects of his words on her. In a span of conversations they had tumbled into Something, she knew not what it was, only it wasn't exactly the torrid passion she was used to feeling, it was a wry, quieter fondness whose strength she could not yet discern.Â

Then she found a Word in the letter, and it all came back to her.Â

***

A bath and some perfunctory sweeping of all the sand into a corner of the room later, Avis found her mind clear enough to write. There was a good deal of hesitation towards the end of her letter, and her quill hovered above the paper (Xavarian's, of course) for a few long minutes as she considered briefly the implications of being accountable. But she wrote it in anyway with a smile.Â

When she locked her room and strode down the hallway to Xavarian's room, she was fully decked out for a journey - well, as fully decked out as was usual for Avis, of course, she alwaysÂ travelled light. Grimoire, notebook, money, water, gemstone. Check. She was dressed in the long ink blue ensemble that she'd received a few compliments on, the only one that carried any indication that she might, after all, have the aesthetic inclinations of the gentry.Â

Before she slid the letter under his door, she touched it to her lips without self-consciousness, a hidden message that even Xavarian would not be able to find. Then she left, and if any regret for their misaligned hours existed, it was not to be clearly gleaned from the odd tune she hummed under her breath.Â

Show Content

The letter is written on one of Xavarian's papers with designs in its corners, neatly folded. The last two paragraphs seem almost to be written in a slightly different hand.Xavarian,

What words to awake to in the first light of day. You have bested me at an endeavour I'd assumed I was top of the game in. Certainly you give me a run for my money in both scribery and the art of the love poem.

I jest.

The Irony is a serendipitous one, no?Â

Uncanny what language unlocks in its readers, especially in those who have cast words out like a fisher's net over the universe. I sit here, happily lost, and deliriously found, and have to pause at multiple intervals in the writing of this to wander again among your words. What worlds you have given me, and more than you realize, for we who use words are hardly master archers, and the tiniest word employed can cause a ripple we hardly intended. "Ensemble", though hardly a small one in size or definition, unlocks a memory in me, another old one, dredged up from last night's dream.

Here is the memory:

I am eight or nine when I turn another corner on another street and a motley crew of musicians presents itself before me. Decked out in splotches of wine red and tamarind, they move with the music's swell like tendrils, at once reaching out, then drawing back again. There is a voice, a high, fluty one, belonging to an Adam's apple the likes of which I've never afterwards seen, grotesque in its largeness. I aim a finger in its direction and giggle aloud, and for my youthful discourtesy the warbler, never missing a beat, tosses me a morsel - what it was I cannot remember - but clearly he takes me to be one of the underclass. And then I'm running home with its staleness in my mouth and the song ringing in my ears.

This melody is one I've been searching for through dreams, dreams whose contents mostly elude me. I did not know I was looking for a lost song until I found it, this morning, in your letter, in a word. Now I hear with my mind's ears (memory is far less reliable than the physical hearing organs, and surely nothing compared to a duskwight's hearing) a few faint scraps of it, badly eroded by time and memory. It is all that remains, and I am realizing that it has come to stand for an age of laughter, and wonder, and zero consequence, that will never return again -

I am not certain why I should be telling you this.

Only that a glimmer of this lost age returned with you and I in the sea. I, too, found myself a child again, with you.

We have led very different childhoods, but perhaps now, perhaps, this mess makes newÂ beings of us. We might traverse to odder and stranger places, and navigate them with our maps, our hands and feet, and seas of words. We might play, young and old as we are, with the worlds's constant unmaking, and our own constant unknowing.

Meanwhile an errand and - and a Something of the sort I have related here - calls me to Thanalan.

I will be I will be back before long,Â under-dweller.

- Avis

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Dasair - 02-12-2015

It was longer than the duskwight had expected before he returned to the inn. He'd been busy. 'Reorganizing' was a downplayed way to put how much he'd changed his room. Nevermind, he'd been practicing; the Aether channeling in his lesser talented practice of Conjury was, he thought (or at least liked to) getting better. But it had taken quite a hold on his focus lately, as though he needed to do this before much else could be done. After all, they would need more progress on the translating. And while he had discerned some things, it was hardly enough. He wanted to be ready if he should ask another to get what he thought they needed. And even if not for that, he wanted to be ready for what was unexpected. Xavarian felt he'd neglected his studies far too long.

Though, no small part of the matter was his continuously spiraling thoughts; an odd thing, that as much as he mused about them, he needed to insist, almost chide himself, into doing more than that. In no small part, they inspired him. In no small part, all of it was a paradox. So in yet another part, finding himself lost in other tasks seemed to somehow make sense.. until he realized it'd been far too long since he'd been to the inn.

When he returned, it was there waiting for him. A letter. He didn't even try to hide his smile, the little jumping embers on him attested, and quickly he re-fitted his scepter in its place on his arm before taking up the page, one he'd given, he noticed, to look over. The first few lines read caused a heated huff from the sparking mage, and he thusly decided to place the note down and shuffle around in embarrassed and silent protest a little while, as he used his hands to help kick off his boots. Stocking feet now free, the duskwight retook the letter, then curled himself up on the bed to re-read from the beginning, and the whole way through this time.

Grins and quiet snickers abound. Though through it, Xavarian had an endeared smile; that she would tell him such a thing. That she found it clearer through his words. And he found himself, though he knew it be wrong, hearing a tune in his own mind when he read her small story. He opened his mouth then, as though to comment on it, though just cracked up quietly to himself at the thought. Uncanny what language does indeed~

The duskwight needed a moment, rereading the letter several times, before just flopping back in his bed. He closed his eyes to listen to what went through his mind. He wasn't quite tired, but he mused for a while, until his musings seemed to give him the energy to up and begin to write in return.

________

It was already the first signs of morning by the time Xavarian was done, and there was something sleepy to the duskwight's steps as he quietly ambled to deliver his own letter. He got turned around a few times, yet blowing hair from his face was the only reaction he really gave to the mistakes; even then, his thoughts had him in a different place.

As he stopped at her door, he almost knocked without thinking. The duskwight let out a snirk, having stopped himself in time to just lightly place his hand on the door, a much less audible gesture, before kneeling instead to slide a single sheet of swirling paper beneath. A yawn escaped him then, tired enough to not even feel embarrassed as he scooted in some for someone passing through the hallway behind him. Though soon enough he rose, and ran a hand through his hair and over his face. A small grin remained. He hoped what he wrote made some amount of sense, but turned his thoughts quickly back to their own musings once more as he quietly returned towards his own room to rest.

Show Content

Flowing words on a swirling, face down, page
What a Gift, an Honor, a Something
Between all those; much more akin to what
results a grin who just
arrived
from a soft moment when you Know
that your Words have touched another's
lives.

More than one, I think, for a nod to all
the different sorts of quiet sighs we keep by
to face different places with yet slightly
different faces,
and yet, still we keep our paces
aligned
as we Are what we Are still, you see.

For Words to touch them all is
a rare thing indeed, but Something I
am all too glad that happened.
And Something you
already do
to me.

[blot]

I [spot] Your jest~ You've yet
placed phrases more direct
than I seem to be able to wind here instead,
that said,
I may yet try.

Though I'll not give up my rhyme~

To yet attempt and speak clearer, my Words scatter as it sounded
the fishes did, at times, when something drew nearer. In all directions from what they thought may come
to guide them. Still,

that pleased grin remains yet as it will, sitting as it were unmoving
and causing dancing thoughts to spill
on this page. What a poor attempt gave
at writing clearly~

And what a fond memory you've shared with me. That I might help you find
a Song~ A rhythm that sounds the way to uncovering, slowly, a place that'd hidden from view or clear thought~ One that seems to have, itself, been dancing through your dreams uncaught.
Even in trickling notes, though, a passing gasp of smoke 'twixt
gentle fingers, I hope you may grasp it more fully found
or
that you, perhaps we, may find that age lost yet anew.

[blot]

Might I share something too, with you?

We see through sound, those under-dwellers 'neath the ground.

And it was so, that I, sometimes, when not reading would find
myself young, pressed up to the door's wall, ears and all
listening to the sound of words said or song sung. Your own Words reminded me
of one throated clear melody, a woman's voice I didn't know suddenly sung out
like soft ringing bells, a rhythm that flowed out so well,
I could hear how it lept from the walls.
I could see them, then, all. Eyes closed, that voice brought me on and showed
how the caverns branched, where they turned, and from her voice I learned. I grabbed a page in hand, and a secret map began to take its shape. For, I always mused what it'd be to escape, and of course, I had to be prepared~ In my huddled room, hearing that tune
was a most exciting reminder that there may be more soon. It was proof
of all that lay outside. Helped my dreams abide, showed me the way through the caves I'd barely seen. I would hum it on for days, then, and with it always be pleased.

I think that you're right~ I'm so glad you joined me that night.

We come from such different young places, but
I would most certainly think, if you do as well, that we are new beings springing forth with Our Mess. Please, let us play, young and old as we are,
with all things digress; the oddest, the strangest - may we follow our maps
and find ourselves off them, yet in our newness make them, if we want them~
May we be such children as in the sea, place together from these journeys an age just to Be, and yet still free.

Not the same, but new, as we.

[blot]

I've just an idea~ But soon enough, perhaps. We'll see~

Until then, may you find well all that calls you to Thanalan.
If you've not already returned~ (This could find you later than I would've hoped, I'm sure.)

Travel free, Avis of Above~

[there is an elaborate symbolic like script here, though if turned upside down, it reads 'Xavarian']

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Elysia - 02-14-2015

The trip to Jig's university, followed by an unexpected meeting with one of his mercenary proteges who seemed to enjoy nicknaming herself, fuelled much of Avis's rumination upon her return. So much so that she was up even earlier than usual the next day, sitting and poring over notes, papers, reports, diagrams wearing a look of utmost concentration. She had been contemplating an academic lifestyle, the implications of an "official" position, and the institution's proximity to Ul'dah, all of which had led her to acknowledge the quantity of work she had been neglecting for a time.Â

Avis was fond of supposing that she had an innate ability to grasp concepts, make wild connections and pluck strange ideas out of the air. Â She fancied her mind as an unruly thicket that only she knew, that she could call up any file, label, memory, or figment of her imagination as and when she wanted it, no matter how lost it might seem. So she perceived the act of organization as a chore, though she conceded its necessity once in a while. Indeed, "once in a while" the amount of backlogged material and documents she owed the Professor ambushed her at inopportune moments like a forgotten monster under the bed, and she then found herself remembering dates and deadlines in a fluster and, scrambled, days too late, to the task. Despite her sheer dread of "organizing", however, she always enjoyed the effects of the mental exercise once it was done. Things took their place better in her mind then. Words too.Â

Dawn thus found her absorbed in such work, for which she made generous use of Xavarian's paper. The room was quiet save for the scratch of her quill against documents, and so she noticed immediately the tiniest of thuds on her door and the letter's emergence under it.Â

Avis was never good at repelling distractions (unless she was absorbed in a novel), and this particular distraction, of course, was very welcome. She leapt from her seat instantly for the letter and picked it up, faintly registering that the letter seemed significantly wordier than she'd come to expect of him, before unlocking her door and poking her head out for a glimpse of the departing duskwight.

She was grinning as she tossed her drawls at the dark, retreating figure down the corridor, paying no heed to the one or two curious stares she attracted from miscellaneous residents leaving or re-entering their rooms. "The fell lord of the underworld is up late," Avis called, then followed that up immediately with a passable affectation of his characteristic lilt, "Is he so fraught with missing that he'd risk celestial blinding?"

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Dasair - 02-15-2015

The duskwight wasn't that far down the hall, and had certainly heard her words - likely even heard Avis' steps - though he was, of course, rather dreary. That didn't stop him from being completely flustered at her calling (to him, shouting,) through the inn after him. A swirl of warm air and jumping sparks billowed up around Xavarian, and he turned around to face the one who'd caught him. He really wanted to huff, and pout, but was just left with an amused, sleepy sort of grin. After a moment's hesitation, he took a few steps back towards her, though didn't close the distance entirely. Yet. He'd leave that up to her. ... Maybe.

"Perhaps~ Per- perhaps to both~ The darkness that is occupied oft surrounds and consumes with little concern for time~ So I found myself for a while, and yet- Well, the free lady of the heavens, for what she gave, is not one I'd wanted to keep waiting any longer~" He briefly rubs his face. "If she had been waiting at all, of course... though~"

With a pause, he assumes a wry smirk. "While one may be fraught with missing to risk blinding, might she be willing to break the unspoken rules of Words? Are there such things, these rules? Doth one dare further approach them? Or do Worlds come ever closer to meeting~?"

The duskwight's words come surprisingly easily, just sort of spilling out of him almost without thought, his tone quiet. Though, he clearly seems tired. That sort of tired where you just mutter what's on your mind before you stop it to see if it makes any sense at all. He definitely was paying 'sense' very little heed; and those one or two stares likely found it best to keep heading where they were heading by the oddness of the conversation now. Xavarian leaned his shoulder against the wall idly, a comfortable alternative to standing in the middle of a hallway. The small Aetherical sparks still jumped along him, and he wasn't actually thinking anything in particular other than how he actually was pleased to see her, as he waited to see what she'd do now that she'd caught him.

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Elysia - 02-15-2015

Now she was smiling like a girl in the height of her adolescence again, glad once more for the language only they shared, no matter how brief this current correspondence lasted. Avis moved slightly more into view and leaned against the door post without stepping completely into the hallway; she was dressed in very simple garb suited for the confines of a room lived in alone, and was only just barely modest.Â

"Rules?" She gave a little chuckle, though her tone, while teasing, was as quiet as his. "I have little respect for rules... except, perhaps, some grammatical ones. I would not have expected you to be a stickler for them, Xavarian, even your rhymes have an irregularity to them at times. And yet," she added, her mind pleasantly sharpened by the fruits of her 'organization' just a minute before, "rules are certainly intriguing creatures to bend, seduce, or play with. If Worlds should meet eventually, I say let them - there'll always be a corner of it we keep unknowable, bounded simply by, well, rules that make the core of us, us."Â

She folded her arms, watching his reaction, noting his weariness. She wouldn't keep him if he had to leave.

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Dasair - 02-15-2015

Xavarian mirrored a similar sort of smile, rather hopeless in its place there, as he couldn't stop it even if he'd tried. Though a dull realization set in upon seeing how she presented herself, the duskwight somewhat more flustered, temperature reaching a comfortable warm with any number of little sparks on him, like he'd walked in on something, but his tiredness didn't allow his slight worry too long, or at least not quite in the same way. Everything seemed more like the beginnings of a waking dream to him, oddly comfortable, where somehow, to him, everything made sense until someone else brought it to question. Was he interrupting something..? No, no, she had called to him first, hadn't she? Of course he wasn't.

Xavarian was a different sort of unruly. His hair was, well, it was the living mess of curls and flippy-ness that it always was, really. The duskwight wore the arguably fancy long-coat he often does; one for traveling or more messy endeavors, a durable thing designed well to fit without discomfort over a chocobo, with all sorts of straps to hold things built right in. Asymmetrical as it was, it seemed somehow as though it was slightly disheveled; what should have been 'down the center' was turned a bit too far to one side, like it may have just been thrown on in a haste only intending for a short time out in public, a necessary evil, but one without much adjusting to it or thought. Here was a mess with dwindling cares for appearances.

When Avis spoke, Xavarian was even more pleased, his smile becoming a toothy grin, and a quiet snicker. Her language there. "What you speak, with what words you choose..~" He starts, almost idly. "Yours~ I.. Imagine, though, that by such rules themselves, Challenges are formed~ Those which quietly move ever closer," As he spoke, he slowly did the same with his approach, until the distance between them was much more fitting for a quiet conversation. "subtle by steps, till the newly formed Challenge begins to whisper, to lightly tug the hand of the one who hears its hidden call~ Though these might fall between your spoken lines, should they be so seducing, thus reducing the hard edges of rules to mere waves at play~ And perhaps, then, Worlds might meet this way~" A pause, and a playful snirk. "Or nay, and may elsewhere away~ But by you I stand with such rules; is it not best, that only we are to say? And of course, you are right; the Unknown's quite like to stay~"

The duskwight grins a pleased, tired smile, having leaned himself against the wall in his new closer location. Whatever he's saying, it seems to make perfect sense to him, and given pause in the conversation, he may 'rest his eyes' leaning there, if only for a short moment or two.

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Elysia - 02-15-2015

Avis had an eyebrow arched through Xavarian's words; verbally he could be abstruse and somewhat harder to follow, especially if he spoke in pieces. Still she understood well enough, especially as he complemented his words with a literal reduction of the distance between them. He was learning, this duskwight. And at the end of his rhymes Avis gave a soft laugh - he'd completely put her earlier one to shame.

She took his cue - if a cue it was, one could never be quite certain with Xavarian - and crossed the last few steps to him with scant regard for whoever happened to be watching the odd pair. Smirking up at him, she took his right hand in both of hers, a smooth, natural movement with no trace of tentativeness. "Careful," she said in a low voice, returning the earlier 'gesture' and running her thumb across his palm lines meaningfully, "reading between the lines, or out of the margins can be dangerous. Words and actions can fall out of their proper places. Though I suppose we're no longer strangers to that in the light of 'new shores'... We have been very dangerous, and I dare say, creative." There was, of course, no cautionary note in her voice, only a low tremor of excitement.

She'd also seen his eyes close in fatigue for a moment, so she continued, "But you seem hardly awake enough for challenges, even if your mind's sharp enough to make rhymes. Or tangled enough - I will never know which does it. I can be merciful, and have you begin your inevitable perusal of daylight with me another time when we are both physically and intellectually capable of them."Â

She knew exactly what she was saying; a note of mischief had slid back into her tone. For the time being she was content to observe him, and to be amused by the usual mess he made of his appearance. She had missed him, after all.Â

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Dasair - 02-15-2015

Xavarian had a dorky smile on his face when Avis had decided to take his hand. Tiny little sparks jumped from his hand to hers as she took it for herself, and they weren't harmful, much as before. He continued to lean against the wall, ever pleased to listen to her words, though seemed to get somewhat flustered again, nonetheless. Certainly not to the levels he may have been if he were more awake, but enough to keep the air warm.

"Creative and dangerous..~ I know I'd quite like such things to continue, hm~?"

His thoughts end up speaking now more than his speech does, but he still huffs, blowing some hair from his face, though with a smirk at her later comments. "Why can it not be a sharp tangle~? My mind for their rhyme, that is~ Because really, I think both suit well enough for what which-way my words seem to find themselves in their absurd wandering herds, hm? Not that 'wandering herds' sound to be the most elegant of things for which words can be... So I see.. your point~ And-" He huffs again, then laughs, closing his fingers lightly over one of her hands. "Merciful~ You know, that dreadfully sounds like a challenge itself, one that I hardly wish to back away from, and won't! yet... I might fall out of my proper place of consciousness now, by little volition of my own, quite abruptly should I take it, or it take me. What a shame that would be, to miss a moment of it~"

He continued to think little of what he was saying as the words were already out before he could contemplate them, leaving little room for him to stutter or amend himself as he was wont to... basically all the rest of the time.

"Still, I am pleased you caught me, between the lines as it may be, and- it will happen eventually~ Or I hope, I've not given up~ ... But- but you've a letter, and I'm not here nor there, and-" He finally pauses, his words have been slurring together and growing quieter over time, but he actually seems to realize it for a moment. "And I should likely stop speaking, shouldn't I~? When.. when we are both apt, in body and mind. .... I need to sleep~" He finally ends his patchwork mess of words with an apologetic laugh, placing his other hand briefly over hers. What a scattered goober. What does half of that even mean?

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Elysia - 02-16-2015

Again, those curious little sparks of his which had made the not-unwelcome decision to roam onto her hands. She followed them again with an amused interest, but then Xavarian began making a complete mess of his somnolent self, and that had all her attention.Â

She had to pull a hand from his to cover her mouth as he spoke, but when his 'wandering herds' struck she could not contain herself, giving up an odd, sharp yelp of laughter. Certainly that caused, in the distance, another passing resident's head to turn. Activity was picking up in the Inn. "Wandering herds. Wonderful. I will never look at another La Noscean buffalo buffoon without imagining you - your, your, spu-sputtering - dribs - dribs and d-drabs, of speech, speeches, thoughts, figments, figs, green and sparkling figs~" Again, she contrived to mimick him, though with rather questionable success. "I wonder what strange sort of animal, vegetable or mineral you'd assign to mine were you not half-asleep. It seems to me a delightful experiment to conduct, to compare the quality of your metaphors before and after rest. Though sleep deprivation would certainly raise some ethical issues."

She grinned, wondering if he remembered this half-serious aspect of their first conversation those weeks ago. But now she loosed her other hand, and made to turn him around, to steer him in the opposite direction from her doorway. "You should probably go and be a dead, deaf, dark lump in your own room before I... change my mind. And - ah..." As her fingers caught his elbow, she seemed to remember something. "I've got something to return to you, yes~"

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Dasair - 02-16-2015

The Aether around the duskwight did an odd thing as the warmth dipped to a stark cool for a moment before raising itself back up. There was a small wince given at her sudden laugh, and about him a few sparks still remained, yet less numerous. He huffs. He might have almost been offended by her mockery... if it wasn't so ridiculous. And he felt that he was probably pretty ridiculous.

"Y-yes, well- Hells, hells." Another huff, and he clamps his mouth shut instead of stating how he shouldn't speak again. "A.. a mistake I- as if I were not bad enough- Though I.. can't really deny experiments. . ." He mutters in something more like whispers to himself. But he rubs his face with a hand, and can't help a grin to himself, especially as he's forcibly spun and pushed on. It really doesn't take much from Avis to get him to move, Xavarian just sort of goes with it. There is a snort of amusement, and the warmth seems then to make its return.

"Pray tell, how could you change your mind~? I mean, look, listen to what you're dealing with~ And.. Do you?" He looks back to her drearily curious at whatever it was she meant about returning something to him.

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Elysia - 02-16-2015

She'd been watching him intently, as she always did, more so than with others; most people Avis found interesting were likely to be the recipients of her unabashedly upfront gaze. So the attention she paid to Xavarian and his strange aetheric manifestations - such a curiosity he was - would have disconcerted many should such scrutiny be turned on them. So she didn't miss the wince that blinked itself across his face, or even the briefest of dips in temperature. Still, it didn't quite click yet; she supposed something else altogether - though not entirely inaccurate - and gave a little 'tsk', smirking. The hand that grasped his elbow gave it a little shake and squeeze.Â

"Oh, you're ridiculous. Don't you start being self-disparaging on me - I have no patience for that. If I hadn't figured that my current top source of merriment wouldn't last the next few minutes, I'd have made you stay and brave the sun's scowls. With me." She patted his arm. "And once you're fully awake, we can even the score, and be as equal as we want to be." Another challenge.Â

"One moment," she added to him, then slid back into her room. The door was ajar, as careless as its owner, and if Xavarian were to peek or even wander a few steps in, Avis wouldn't have stopped him. Her room was spare, save for the paper sprawl on her desk, and devoid of most material possessions. The garish cover of Taking the Thief would have been the only decorative detail in the room.Â

She went to the old, peeling chest that the Inn supplied and rummaged within. Most of her clothes lay tucked away in there, and she rarely gave much care to how they were arranged or folded til she had to wear them. The same could not be said of a thick towel of a rich dark hue and a rather expensive bearing, however, which she had carefully washed, dried and folded separately from the rest of the mess in the chest. She took this out now, giving it a couple of curious sniffs; the recent washing it'd undergone hadn't dispelled the subtle earthy, yet pleasant, smell it had to it. It smelt, indeed, of a different world altogether.Â

It was then that she made the connection. He'd said as much about his sense of hearing. He'd also made that face on at least one or two other occasions, though she never perceived its reasons til now.Â

She hurried out of the room with this epiphany and the large towel bundled in her arms. "Am I too loud, Xavarian? Do I hurt your ears? Do I?" She was looking both amused and actually apologetic, for once; then, as she held out the towel to him, she gave a smile, a soft, warm one that spoke of that secret meeting they'd shared.

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Dasair - 02-16-2015

The gaze Avis placed on Xavarian certainly didn't bother him now, though if it bothered him ever was quite a question in itself. He was ever the proponent for curiosity, for learning, and they both shared a rather fascinated interest for each other. From an unspoken stranger, he may have been disconcerted, but from her, well, if he were more awake, he may have even been flattered.

He huffs at her first comments, though not without a smile. The temperature warms more at them, the sparks returning in quantity. "Oh, I-" He almost apologized. "I would like that~" That is all he manages, though his doofy grin conveys the rest of his pleasure at the thought.

When she told him 'a moment', he really couldn't help but peek in the room. He curled himself around the doorway arch, leaning in to watch what she was doing, but didn't actually step in further. He wasn't actually invited, just walking in could be rude. Apparently, though, leaning all over the door frame and actively gawking wasn't.

He did manage to catch the familiar look of the towel, something he'd forgotten that she'd taken, actually, and had a somewhat amused smile upon her return ... until she asked that question.

The temperature and Aether around him, again, did a strange thing; it rippled and seemed to burst out in a little cool chill. It wasn't too terribly strong, she could likely see the scepter, again, bound to his arm, but the shift was certainly notable. Some of the sparks on him clustered together in various places, and.. well that question seemed to wake him up a bit. He almost looked mortified at it, reacting as though she'd just called herself ugly.

"Wh-? Avis, why would you say such a thing? I- You sound lovely, I am always pleased to hear you speak to me, to hear your songs, even beneath the sea, your laughter, your quiet little breaths and the rhythm of your footsteps along floor, earth, and sand. You don't- it is not you, I'd never wish you change the sounds that you are, unless you wish to." When he says this, he briefly, and gently, takes both her shoulders, and runs his hands down her arms to her elbows before letting go; little sparks jump over to her, as though that were supposed to mean something comforting. Though the duskwight sucks in his lips then, looking somewhat guilty, and glances off. "Any.. indication I might give otherwise, j-just.. it can be ignored. It is not that I do not wish to hear you. It is entirely that I am.. quite sensitive; Below, we all speak in what you might call 'whispers', but I am not there now, and- well, I need to learn to adjust, hm? Think not that you are a pain to me, for you aren't, and even if it were at times so, your utterances all are what I would gladly choose~"

He gives her a warm smile, and a small nudge. "And right after you tell me not to be 'self-disparaging'~" The oddness of his reaction to her hasn't seemed to have dawned on him, as though this were a perfectly reasonable reply.

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Elysia - 02-16-2015

Avis's face was wearing a very curious expression indeed. She was amused, yet perplexed, by his rather disproportionate response to her question, and - was she flushing? This, frankly, was exasperating. She certainly enjoyed having her expectations overturned by Xavarian, but she wasn't sure whether she appreciated the duskwight's ability to break her composure, as few could, with his terrifyingly disarming bouts of honesty. Or affection, since it'd started, if that was what it was. He didn't even intend any form of flattery, he meant merely to clarify, rectify, provide Information as was required, or so she felt she had come to realize. But there it was. Her features were strangely contorted, as if they couldn't decide on the form they wanted to take - mouth open in a half-smile, one eyebrow raised, and if one took care to notice, subtly reddened cheeks. Of course his touch, too, had something to do with this.Â

(How did self-disparaging even come into this?)

It took a long moment for her to find the words to respond to him. She decided to make a concerted effort to speak at a lower volume.Â

"Well, your condition... certainly is both boon and bane for 'Above'. You're sound-sensitive and light-sensitive, how difficult I imagine it must be, to have to deal with the..." Avis hit upon a memory just then, and her mouth abruptly widened into a wicked grin as she quoted his words from one of their previous meetings - "...the shining shards of who I am." She'd almost broken into laughter again, and had to fight to keep it down, Â so that her words came out breathless. "But I will... I will take note of this... issue."

He still hadn't taken the towel, so she thrust it into his hands. "And now you should go - I'll take the letter as a comparable substitute for your company. Admittedly it does have its advantages. I have no worry of dealing hearing damage to ear-less paper," she commented wryly. "I suppose we will meet again... soon enough."

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Dasair - 02-17-2015

If color were easily discernible on the duskwight's face, it's likely there would have been some of it lingering with him too. Instead, he merely huffed as the sparks continued to dance around on him, and the heat was back to its comfortable warm.

"My condition..." He muttered, more like a whisper. "My condition. And you-!" Then that was almost a normal tone. But a much more amused one, as he gave her a pointed stare. He may have jabbed a finger at her, if he hadn't had a towel shoved into his arms. "Yes, how incredibly difficult you are, with all your-" there are a few wiggly gestures here, as to prove the point; a rolling glance up, a smirking head tilt back to her, a small jostle of the towel in accordance to his words: "your bright skies, your shining shards, and your boisterous bouts of amusement, whatever am I to do with you~? Though, perhaps you are right; might a letter serve as a suitable substitute in all ways? If not, I suppose we will meet soon enough~"

That whole thing was dripping with amused jest, because he simply could not have this mess of quips end at his expense now. He refused. Though it may have taken his last onze of cleverness to pull it through, and he blows some hair from his face before softly adding, "Have an enjoyable morning, Avis~" With a warm smile, he moved the towel around in his arms some - the thing was fairly large, even for him - as though in an acknowledged 'thanks' for its return, before Xavarian would make his way with it back from whence he came.

It was then that the duskwight would fall into some sorely needed sleep. ... Or at least that was the plan.

RE: The Mizzenmast Letters (Closed) - Elysia - 03-04-2015

Avis closed the door behind her and, shaking off her slippers, headed immediately for her table where she'd deposited the letter before retrieving the towel. A little scowl was directed at the monstrosity of papers that greeted her anew, but that expression soon turned to a low chuckle as she sat herself and read Xavarian's writing. It was quite clearly a good substitute for his somnolent company - none of his previous letters betrayed the same scattered nature. The elaborate symbol that he'd signed the letter off with had her intrigued, and she spent a few minutes turning the paper at angles and copying it on a fresh sheet before she figured it out.

Then she reread the letter again, leisurely this time, leaning back in the flimsy-looking but otherwise sturdy chair with her bare feet on the table, soles skimming the surface of some of Jigumundo's more important documents. (If he ever knew...) His mention of the 'map' had given herÂ an idea, too, and quickly she straightened and righted herself, pulling yet another sheet of paper from the slowly dwindling stack Xavarian had provided. Quill scratched across paper for a few excited lines before it came to an inevitable pause.

For the next few moments Avis had a lengthy mental tussle with herself. The work could notÂ be ignored a day or two more - but another part of her persistently piped up with excuses for executing the plan. Should not one strike when the iron was hot, especially if that metal was inspiration itself? Finally, though, she steeled herself to take the (questionably) wider choice. Besides, if her instincts proved correct, she would have more than one good reason for venturing into Lower La Noscea again. She retrieved the address that the Professor had given and gave it another once-over before settling her quill, once again, to a far less exciting task.

Work first. Then play.

***

A full two days passed before Avis's return.Â She was considerably worn out by this time from solitary, lilybell-picking romps around on the La Noscean highlands - one of which had actually involved chasing down a number of crucial pages scattered by the strong sea winds. How had she allowed herself to be persuaded (by her own whimsy, no less) that completing a final report before a favored sea view, without the wonders and ingenuity of tabular support, was an intelligentÂ decision? Well, at least that was one personal experiment ticked off the list.

After all that, there'd been the rather shocking state in which she'd found her employer when she paid his favorite establishment in the Mist a surprise visit.

So it was with a rather preoccupied air that Avis, now freshly unloaded of reports, wild flowers and gift, approached Xavarian's door. She lingered there for a few moments without doing anything at all, considering. It was afternoon. Too early for duskwight-pestering, too early for sleep - despite her tiredness. There were things to be done yet, questions to be asked. She bent and slid the three simply-folded pages under his door, and the mild worry apparent on her features sent her right back out the Inn.

She could only hope that the letter enthralled him sufficiently, that they actually posed at least a littleÂ bit of a challenge for him.Â

Show Content