Upon leaving the stage, Raymond wasted no time seeing to the maintenance of his blade. The woodcarving process had dulled its edge and left sap residue clinging to its faces. His distaste at the thought burrowed far deeper than an expression of inconvenience, flirting with either obsession or near-Pavlovian levels of conditioning.
Luckily, it was simple enough work. Finding clean water among the refreshments required asking a couple of the revelers, and after retreating to an open space he was able to rinse the blade without a fuss. The sharpening was another matter, but in a pinch any decently-sized stone would do and there were plenty to be had.
Storytelling was an art form that the red stallion had taken to quite naturally in his youth, and he wondered at times if a different universe might have seen him become a bard rather than a soldier. Certainly for someone of his culture and upbringing, he harbored a surprising reluctance to engage others directly.
So why did he always show up in new places ahead of whispers of war like some brightly-colored storm crow?
He certainly had a knack for picking his paths.
Turning so he might catch a decent view of the stage as he worked and glancing around at the gathered masses for a glimpse of Florentine, who had accompanied him, Raymond began the well-practiced process of whetting his scythe against the stone he had elected for the purpose. The flower-crown still draped over his head swayed rhythmically with every stroke. It was difficult not to hum along to the long, sweeping strokes as he worked, but out of respect for the festival and the presentations of those that followed him he kept silent and sang the whetting song only with his eyes.
Raymond. and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
i'm meaner than my demons, i'm bigger than these bones
It would be a lie to say that Teiran had traveled to Delumine for the festivities. She was not here to dance and to party and to revel in friendships new and old. No, when she prowled through the forest as a feline might, it wasn't to hunt down something good to eat or drink. The Solterran warrior was silent and her pale green eyes took in every minute detail around her.
She was using the festival as an excuse to scout for dangers that may be lurking outside the day court walls. Dangers other than the one that had already been wrought upon them. Of course, she had no intention of acting on any suspicious, simply to observe and to remember. Remember each face, each look tossed her way. More than one alighted on her silver collar, though her expression gave away nothing. No reaction.
Nearby she heard the sound of a blade being sharpened and immediately her expression shifted like a switch had been flipped. The soldier girl followed the sound with caution but also with purpose in her steps. Many stepped out of her way at the primal, wild gleaming of her sage eyes.
Teiran rounded a corner to see a man with a leonine tail, sharpening a scythe-like spur that protruded from it. It was the same man who she had seen earlier on stage. He had been telling a story of some feat he claimed to achieve and using that very blade in his tail to carve from a sizeable log. Although she appeared to have relaxed on the outside, Teiran kept her guard up as she looked him over.
"You might refrain from being seen sharpening that," she spoke flatly, the cadence of her words mechanical in their monotony. The sharp angle of Teiran's mane hid the majority of her collar from his view, but for a flash of silver right at her throat. He might be more concerned by the lack of welcome in her eyes, or the lack of much of anything really. "Someone might mistake you as attempting to disrupt the peace." Not a threat. Not now, anyway.
There's a universal sensation that accompanies the moment someone new enters a scene - a visceral Metal Gear alert, if you will. Raymond got the full effect as a collared stranger spoke up midway through a long stroke of his blade.
You might refrain from being seen sharpening that.
The red stallion paused abruptly and tilted his head quizzically, meeting her smoldering eye before slowly following through with the interrupted arc. "I'm sorry," he replied with blithe puzzlement. "Should I hide in the bushes so people really start asking questions?" Certainly if he had been worried about disturbing the peace, he'd have chosen to center his contribution to the festival around something other than his skill with the blade. Perhaps some light stand-up.
Certainly Raymond teased, but there was neither malice nor impatience in his jovial tone. He'd always loved a good party; the stormy-eyed mare would not dampen his spirits over what likely amounted to a misunderstanding. She carried herself like a levee under pressure, holding back a roiling, tumultuous sea (which is to say she reminded him of Calliope in her intensity, though he imagined the similarity ended there).
"Unfortunately I cannot disarm myself. But this is an art festival, and I would hope the hosts would understand if an artist needed to look after the tools of his trade." As he spoke his tail had fallen easily into its usual loose curl, the blade turned in a soft upward arc. Leopards telegraphed their intentions similarly when not hunting, letting their white-tipped tail inform one and all of their presence as a peace offering. When you are the weapon, you have to speak plainly.
After a beat of silence, Raymond launched once more into the sort of charismatic positivity he had worn on stage. "I haven't disrupted your peace, I hope. I'm Raymond." He tipped his head slightly, causing the crown of sword-lilies to slip slightly. "Would you like a crown? The splendidly talented gentleman over there made this one for me, but I doubt he'd mind if I paid it forward."
Raymond. and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
i'm meaner than my demons, i'm bigger than these bones
She watched him as he paused in the middle of a sharpening stroke, meeting her eyes. He appeared to be confused. She wasn’t sure why. If Teiran knew anything it was that there were virulent, unpredictable people in the world and that she trusted nobody, let alone complete strangers from other courts. There was too much happening among the relationships of courts for her to simply not be on her guard. Besides, her people were still recovering from a devastating attack. Although she hoped any who attended this festival got an enjoyment out of it they haven’t felt in weeks, the woman preferred to be on alert herself.
“You would not fit inside the bushes,” Teiran said matter of factly. If he wanted to try and squeeze into them then that was his business, but she couldn’t see why he would want to. She supposed there would be a lot of questions if he attempted to, however, so she guessed he was at least correct in that. As he continued to speak, she made a closer inspection of the blade in his tail as it curled up and over.
She couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to have a knife constantly on your person, as a part of it nonetheless. She could think of several reasons that made sense to her as to why his actions might be mistaken, but what Teiran did not realize is that she was the only one at the festival searching for probable dangers. Nobody else would be waiting for him to strike out with it.
He may not be brandishing it as a weapon, but had Teiran something like that she certainly would always carry it poised to strike. A warning. He may not be a threat right now, but that did not mean she trusted him not to be one at any point in the future. Even as he introduced himself and her sage eyes slid over his face, waiting. The man dipped his head and offered up the crown resting around his ears and if her face registered the incredulity that she felt it was a subtleness in the widening of her eyes or the downturn of her lips.
“Teiran,” she said shortly, quickly, giving her name without a welcome or a smile. It was not in her nature to do so, not in her wiring to understand the intricacies of language and communication. She hadn’t needed social skills when she was being trained as a killing machine, and by the time she had left that behind it was almost too late for her to relearn them.
“I don’t see why I should have it when it’s yours,” Teiran responded, confused by the courtesy he was attempting to extend, “they would die very quickly in Solterra without any water and then it would simply be a dried, dead crown.”
"Speaking."
@Raymond Listen she's really bad at this "communication" thing...
05-09-2018, 11:50 AM
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Odeen [PM] Posts: 175 — Threads: 29 Signos: 1,315
Raymond chuckled warmly at the mouse-colored mare's dry literalism, not missing a beat even as she efficiently swatted down his attempts at nurturing the spirit of community. A no-frills kind of person; he could get behind that. Sometimes he didn't appreciate chatter either.
Pretty rarely, but it counts.
"They'll die very quickly regardless," he shrugged, "things usually do. But at least they might brighten someone's day while their beauty lasts." Were all of his conversations before Novus centered so firmly over a chasm of bleak morbidity? It seemed everything since his arrival conspired to remind him of what he had lost, of the way Ruth rattled about in the hollows of his skull like broken teeth. It had been a long time since he had lost anything he cared about (by design). Maybe it had been like this then, too.
But the shadow of his thoughts could not reach so far as to stain his outwardly festive presentation. He was used to sharing only part of his hand, and appearances are everything in social circles.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all the same, Teiran." He straightened the flower crown, content not to press the issue unnecessarily. If she wanted flowers she knew where to find them, but she didn't seem like the sort to change her mind readily and he wasn't quite prepared to become that guy who tackled unfamiliar women in hopes of showering them with gifts. That's just weird. "Solterra," Raymond rolled the world about in his mouth with a historian's enthusiasm. "That's...east of us, right? What's it like, besides dry?"
Raymond didn't mind people without social skills. They were at times easier to talk to, easier to engage with, because they shot straight and spoke plainly.
"I'm not from around here," he added in lieu of an apology for his ignorance. Teiran hardly would have needed the reminder for any other purpose; his apparent disregard for conventions and ignorance of basic geography were quite telling on their own, and Raymond was not afraid to be identified as a foreigner.
Raymond. and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
i'm meaner than my demons, i'm bigger than these bones
"I'm not a flowers sort of girl, you could say," Teiran responded, once again eyeing the crown as he shifted it back into place as though it were an injured animal, prepared to strike. No, she certainly didn't understand the idea of it. She supposed it made sense in this atmosphere, but some people wore flowers regularly and that seemed impractical. Maybe it was the hardened warrior in her. Such pretty things would only be covered in sand, dust and blood, in her line of work.
"The pleasure is mine," the sentiment sounded wrong coming from her. Robotic, practiced, but she observed that this was a common phrase to say when one spoke of the pleasantness of another's company, "Raymond." She had no intentions of coming off rude, and she surmised that maybe if anyone else was standing in front of her except this man that maybe they would think she were mocking them. He, however, seemed to take her social ineptitude (for that is certainly what it was) in stride.
It was as good a conversation as she had ever had, Teiran supposed. Then again, she hadn't come here to "chat" and make friends. Did she really even know what a friend was, or how they were supposed to act? No. She was only here to survey, to keep an eye on their neighbors. On that note, the girl had realized early on that none from Denocte had come, which only reminded her of the sight of the pass being turned to dust. It made her suspicious for sure, and she wondered if it would be possible to glean any information about it out of other festival goers. Only time would tell.
'What's it like, besides dry?'
His question grabbed her attention back, and although she had missed whatever had come before she surmised he meant Solterra. There was no other place as dry in Novus. "Hot." Teiran responded, lackluster humor and dryness returning again. "Everything is covered in and colored like sand. It's dangerous, if you don't know what you are doing or where you are going." It fostered strong people, maybe even dangerous people. Definitely some with dark intentions. But not all of Solterra was that way. "It's beautiful, and raw."
Raymond. and at his feet they'll cast their golden crown
when the man comes around
Raymond liked her.
It was an instinctive decision, and to be honest Raymond made a point of wasting as little energy as possible by disliking only the truly loathsome, but there was something about the collared mare's bluntness that he appreciated, even found endearing. She even made an effort to be sociable when it was obvious she wasn't particularly enamored of the activity. If Teiran was as diligent in battle as she was in this, then Solterra was lucky to count her among them.
Believe it or not, Raymond hadn't come to socialize either. Nobody questions the motives of a partygoer sipping wine and cheering on the various performers, and one could say he had as good of a reason as any to want to chase away the shadows of his thoughts with friendly banter and ample drinks, but mainly he wanted to shed light into as many dark corners of his understanding as he could with minimal effort.
Teiran described Solterra like a poet. The contrast between the passion in those words and the dry statements she'd made before said as much about her as it did about her homeland, and Raymond nodded his interest and appreciation along with the cadence of her words. It reminded him of home.
"That sounds enchanting," the red stallion replied. "You describe it so lovingly, I wish I could see it." He could tell by her wandering eye that the dark mare seemed eager to get back to her...patrolling, or prowling, or whatever it was that she had set out to accomplish here, and he had no intention of holding her up overlong over a passing concern for his blade-sharpening choices. Best to offer her an out, if she so wished it.
"Are you guys fond of visitors? Maybe I could drop by sometime so you can get back to your patrols here."
Raymond had absolutely no idea how she might react to the request, but he was ready for anything. Sometimes you gotta risk it for the biscuit.
i'm meaner than my demons, i'm bigger than these bones
Her sage green eyes searched Raymond’s face as he spoke, and while she assumed he was being truthful she had never heard anyone describe Solterra as enchanting. Except for, maybe, anyone who lived there and had given it a chance, seen it for what it really was. The desert was an unforgiving place, and Solterra an imperfect one, but it was home and would always be so, regardless of what had happened or no doubt would in the future.
“Perhaps you should see it for yourself then, someday.” When she said so, Teiran hadn’t realized he would then take the suggestion to heart. She had merely said it because it was true. She thought everyone should come to Solterra. They might have gotten a bad reputation, as sun hardened warriors but she wasn’t sure that was so true anymore as maybe it once had been. As, maybe, the Davke were. When the man suggested he drop by sometime, the young woman was truly dumbfounded.
“Yes, okay,” she said, knowing it was the polite thing to do but having some sort of inner conundrum of the whole thing. If he showed up on the court’s doorstep one day and sought her out, she’d have no idea how to entertain him. She wasn’t even sure what that meant. Oh, what had she gotten herself into? Teiran nodded her head stiffly and turned away, to head back to the crowd and her self-appointed duty. “Be careful not to get lost. In the desert, that is. If you do come.” It was as much of a parting invitation as he was going to get, really.
He offered a perfunctory, appreciative smile. There was no telling how long it would take him to make his way to and through the deserts of Solterra, but having said it he fully intended to follow through. The red stallion might regularly sound frivolous in his chosen topics of conversation, and at times it was difficult to describe his manner as anything other than flippant when he was not fully engaged in a situation, but he never spoke lightly. If he said he would like to show up, then he would show up when he could.
Or, you know, get eaten by sand wyrms. But that would be a meal that they'd have to soundly earn before tucking in.
Be careful not to get lost. In the desert, that is. If you do come.
Raymond chuckled again, this time his whole body dedicated to his morbid mirth. He was too sharp to ever completely rule out the possibility of his own death, but he rarely planned for it. That'd just give him an excuse to up and do it. "Well, if you're ever out there on patrol and find my bones, just pour one out for me okay?"
Reining in his laughter, he nodded once more as a farewell to the grulla mare and turned back to spectacle unfolding onstage.
Raymond. and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
@Teiran - exuent stage left, pursued by bear
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
06-01-2018, 02:17 PM - This post was last modified: 06-01-2018, 02:17 PM by Raymond
