A Story of Isobar

Log Info

• Title: A story of Isobar
• Emitter: Paenitia
• Characters: Jinks, Paenitia
• Place: H03: Malifre Stables
• Time: Monday, December 27, 2021, 11:32 PM
• Summary: Paenitia meets up with Jinks at the Malifre Stables after their night hunting the White Stag. Both are exhausted and unsettled by the experience. Being dominated, forced to participate, one's limbs working despite being unwilling, is hard to swallow. The gnome had it worse, being the mouth of the Hunt Leader. Paenitia moves from this, to a story she wishes to tell. It isn't far in before it's obvious she's re-telling what the Marquess told her, adding her own flair. Jinks has that sinking feeling, as it closes. He explains his part in it all, even though it sounds like excuses for his behaviour. Paenitia doesn't forgive him, nor solely blame him, feeling all involved had choices. She tells Jinks his bastard children are delightful to be around, and remind her of her own family in a way. Also, that he's never likely to see them, and she is concerned he may be driven to despair. He assures her, he will not, he maintains hope.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* H03: Malifre Stables *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

A small, castle-like structure rests a quarter mile from the road. Composed of heady stone along the bottom and wood along the top, its purpose is the care of the equine. Malifre Stables' overall shape is composed of an L, with the marshal's quarters in the center and two long stable buildings on either end. Each stable houses up to 50 box stalls of a comfortable size, and stable hands' quarters are overhead among the hay lofts, as well as in a number of smaller, separate buildings. Everything here is clean, and well-sorted, a testament to the orderly nature of the arvek race that runs it.

Storage for grain and hay is kept onsight in the lofts, with a number of felines present to keep down the mouse and rat population. Serriel's and Gilead's symbols may be seen, inscribed on the stables' western-facing side. Too the east roams the great Tornmawr River, and eventually, the Redridge Mountains. To the east, Eldwyn Road winds northwards to Wilderness Point, and south to Alexandria.

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Jinks        3'4"     39 Lb      Gnome             Male      A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.
Paenitia     3'0"     34 Lb      Halfling          Female    A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= 

Enness has had a rough night. Jinks was caught up in the magic of it all and not entirely himself. There was no time to think about the pony. When the gnome came to in the forest covered in dirt, leaves, and twigs, it took some wandering to locate his lost and exhausted mount. A brief apology and some calming pats later and they were walking side-by-side towards the city.

The gnome needs a bath and his coat needs seeing to. The hands have already led Neighsayers away and the gnome is negotiating price with with an uninterested, stocky aeser with reddish-blonde hair and tattoos up the side of her face. It's a losing battle and the dandy has no heart for the fight. He drops the coins into her gloved hand and yawns.

It isn't the Tarrace but he might settle for a bath in a trough here if they can get the water hot enough. Being a mouthpiece for some sort of divine avatar was an experience that left one feeling... stretched out.

>>BLAM<<

The door blows open, kicked and taken by the wind. A white knight enters, calling out, "Dame Betrys, are you here?" She is covered in a layer of snow, and the icy northwesterly howls behind her. Savage gusts blow snow by in waves. The cold is intense, the sky brittle and clear, as if the firmament itself is encased in ice.

Ramirez has been given a warm spot in the stabes, and a brush down. They were likely there when the gnome and Enness arrived.

The little knight pushes the door closed and latches it, then shakes off her layer of snow revealing red armour. The little snow-woman was Paenitia all along.

She steps up the Aesir, glancing at Jinks with her grinning mask, "Oh, you survive the night too. That is good." She sounds overtly cheerful, and also tired.

"They didn't mean us any harm..." Jinks says, nodding as he reaches up a hand to scoop away clinging snow from the wide brim of Paenitia's helm. He looks at the wet slush stuck to his fingers and just wipes it on the fine coat; it's not going to get any more in need of a good cleaning. "It felt like our mortality was just beneath their notice.

"But I've never had my voice taken like that. Or been pushed out of my own head." He steps back and allows for the Lucht to handle her business, leaning against a post and crossing his arms.

It was an odd sensation and he keeps squinting his eyes and wondering if his head will go back to feeling like there isn't something missing soon.

The little lucht's business is swiftly handled. She wants a room and all the best for Ramirez. Payment is exchanged and the aeser woman heads off. She seems vaguely familiar, but Paenitia has been here before.

She rejoins Jinks, answering his observation, "I have play with the Fey before. They do not mean harm, but do not understand how easy the mortals break."

She takes a seat opposite him, her mask wet from melting snow, "They do not forgive if you play too hard back. The rules and rudeness are the great challenge."

She removes the gloves from her gauntlets, then the gauntlets from her hands. They seem small, projecting from her armoured and layered self. "I do not lose as much of me being as the Archer, but I feel I am ridden like I ride Ramirez."

Jinks nods in agreement. He snakes a stool with his foot and drags it over, leaning away from the post and taking a seat. "Those rough-and-tumble cousins that come to visit uninvited," he jokes with a toothy smile. "But mom and dad insist you make a proper host and play with them." Referring to the supposed connection between gnomes of People of the First World.

The gnome's lips are still purple from the wine and his cheek is bruised from falling out of the saddle. His ears and nose are frostburnt but there likely won't be any permanent damage.

"I learned a new song..." he adds, leaning forward and bracing his arms on his legs. "Though I can't see much call for fey enchantments at dinnertime in the Fernwood. It might put folks off their supper."

"The Fernwood have the many unhappy times. I think it not a song for them." Paenitia says, rubbing her fingers. Her skin tone is a warm brown, matching what hints around her eyes. She keeps sliding them against each other, two partial fists, to warm them up. There's no evidence of frostburn on them, and the rest of her is well encased in armour and winter gear atop of that.

She's likely to start sweating, which won't help with the cold that has a hold inside her. "I hear the story, on the airship trip. It is one of Isobar, and like all the Isobar stories is full of the hot blooded men, the women of great passion, the heartbreak, the tears. In the end, the love, also the loss. Do you want to hear?"

"I didn't realize you'd had an airship trip," Jinks admits, leaning his head to one side. He's curious but a note of trepidation has crept into his voice at the mention of Isobar. "... and I do enjoy stories." Even if he doesn't sound sure he'd enjoy this one.

The gnome laces his fingers together and nods. Seyardu had made an odd observation in the Fernwood recently. Then seemed to have some clue as to why Paenitia was annoyed with the gnome.

"Alright," he finally decides.

"There is the woman of stern face, and the statuesque demeanor, by which to say, she is perfect. Carved, a full beauty but hard as the rock, and high on a pedestal. Yet within the shell beats the heart that long for tenderness, the embrace, the feeling of worth." The Red Knight starts her tale, folding her hands in front of her on the table and staring directly at the bard. Her eyes meet his, with the Smiling Man's face in between. Her shield.

"Her husband, oh, he love her once. He still love her. He is the man, he think you kill the rock scorpion once and that enough. He put the ring on it, it is done, he does not understand the woman passion, must be fed, stoked. The fire tend with care, the burnt cinders removed, the fresh wood added." She shakes her head slightly, "he instead taken by the gleam of silver, or the word fencing with the other men. The talk of great import. The wife she will be okay, with the servants and the soft bed."

She pauses.

"The empty bed. There is no tale of Isobar that does not say how the bed will not stay empty long. The men have the wandering eye, and the woman must watch them. And the woman sometimes too... the eyes look when the bed is empty."

"That when the other man come along."

"The scoundrel." Jinks ventures, at the table but not on it. His arms are still on his legs and the crook of his back makes him look up a bit, through the mask and to the dame behind. He smiles easily, for all the world as if he's enjoying a pleasant story. The gnome's solid-black eyes are difficult to read but there's a subtle tension at the outside corners as he listens.

"Please..?" he nods once, bidding her continue.

"Oh, he the great roguish one, with the charms and the songs. The flattery. The fresh wood to stoke her fire. He know how the empty bed calls, and the things to say, to sew the doubt that the husband does not love enough." Paenitia's voice is cheerful enough, no hidden tones, simply the story. She flips one hand over.

"Husband is not there," She flips her other hand over, "he is. In that moment, she is the fresh faced naive maiden, the hen to the fox, to be snapped up. He take her, not against her wishes, but he has given the strong push. It is the night of passion. Perhaps the many nights."

She sounds almost wistful, and then her voice falls. "The man leaves. The bed is empty again. She is left with the broken vows, then, as her belly swell, the knowing that she cannot hide. Her husband returns, the truth is out."

"The halfling and the gnome are much the same stature, and the baby take over the woman greatly. Imagine two! She must feel she is carry the whole world, and all see. She is the wife that stray. She is the terrible one."

"The man that help her away, he gone like the wind. No consequence. She carry it all. This is the heartbreak, when hers crushed, again and again." The snow on the little knight has melted completely, soaking her outer clothes, pooling around her feet and on the bench. "There is more to the story? Do you want to know? Have you hear it before?"

"You're telling it well," Jinks says, sitting up and folding his arms. He realizes the defensive nature of the gesture and uncrosses them, letting his hands fall into his lap. "You should finish it."

Paenitia taps at her coat, overlaying her breastplate, "I am not untouchable."

"The man, that you may know, as he like many of that sort of man, go his way. The woman stay, the husband is ... he stay, he does not forget fully, nor give the full forgiveness. The woman have the two babies who are a delight of energy." Her head dips, she's looking at her hands now, "Imagine the fruit of illicit love, full of happiness and joy. Each time you look at them, you feel the stab of what you have done, the knife you put in your true lover's heart. The mistake that can not be undone. That grows louder and happier."

"The husband too, cannot see them without being the cuckold. This not the bird that men enjoy to be." Her head shakes, "he can try to forget, but they are there. Every laugh, every cry, every time they say 'Papa'. He know, they are not his. They are not the happy sight."

Her eyes meet Jinks's, "The men of power, the men of gold and mithril, they do not have much softness in life. I know, for I fight against many who have turn a heart so hard it break adamantine. They feel nothing."

Her voice drops lower, becomes sad, "The ones that feel, there is nothing in that circle to comfort them, not the metal or the stone men. The wife of bountiful softness, she is poison now. The home, not the refuge. The husband bear it all."

"Until..." Her breathing is audible, her eyes blinking rapidly behind her mask. It's not her story, but the Red Knight finds a connection to it. It may be as she said, all stories of Isobar have much the same features. She may have one similar, "until the youngest girl sing, with the voice as talented as the man that take his love away. This is too much."

"He hang himself."

"His daughter, his real one, from before his wife stray. She find her Papa, swinging."

Paenitia is as unflinching with her words as she is her lance. Her blinking stops, she manages a stare. At Jinks. "This is what your lovemaking wrought."

"I know." Jinks admits with a sigh and a nod. "I wish I could fix it but I can't. I didn't consider... didn't mean for any of that to happen. But I didn't care, either."

"I--" The gnome pauses, looking up from his hands in his lap. "I don't know that my part of the story matters. It doesn't change any of what you said... and I'll never see those two children again. Even to me it just sounds like excuses." He's quiet and honest, it makes him look older.

Paenitia reaches across the table and... she has short arms. Even if she lies flat on it, there's no way she's getting Jinks' hands out of his lap. She settles for tapping the space in front of him, leaves her own forearms resting.

"The elder daughter hate her mother. There is much resentment. Enough she make the plot to kill her. Seyardu and Aryia solve it. We tell the Marquess, she go at great risk alone to sort the things out with Birfy, and some seem to be."

She sits there silently, collecting her thoughts, looking all the world like a statue except for her exposed hands and where her eyes are revealed past her mask. "This is as I say, the part of heartbreak in the story."

"The children of yours and hers are lovely. They are great enjoyment. Star sing with the wonderful voice, even try to help during the fight with Air Pirates. The boy, is the clever sneak, he will be breaking into house and hearts, much like you have."

"The Tango is a dance of two. You are not the sole blame, you are not blameless. Another woman, a different path, a different husband who see the love is gone, does not stay when he does not want to." The Red Knight shakes her head, "there is nothing to be done. The children would be better with you in they life, this is true. They will be better in different ways, without you, this is also true. You will not see them grow, you will not enjoy them. This is the Marquess right to say."

"You are the other sad man in this story. There is the love you have that you walk away from. There are the children you have that you will not see. You are alone." Paenitia lays it out, harsh yet sympathetic. There's a sense she's holding back some strong emotions. "I do not want to find you swinging. You have done the bad thing, with the bad consequence, and hurt yourself too. It is the thing you have to /live/ with. You are not the most miserable man in all of Alexandria..."

"You are still worth the supporting hand."

Jinks exhales slowly, sitting forward again and resting one arm on the table and running his other hand through his messy hair. He listens, shaking his head. "We were both lonely. Isobar isn't the Skycurtains but there were enough similarities between our people that her estate in Alexandria felt like something I'd missed for a very, very long time.

"Her husband hired me to sing for them. That was my first look at her..." He smirks at the memory. "Hoisted on his own petard."

"I still don't know that it was love... but it meant the world to me for those weeks." He frowns and looks across at the masked paladina. "And then it didn't." It's hard to admit that but it's the truth. He's hoping he's not that same person now.

"But the twins..." He grins, thinking of what Paenitia has said, how Aryia and Seyardu spoke of them. "She made me take a geas; 'to not know or seek to know them. To not see them until come of their own minds to find me.' And they never will; their father died when they were young."

"But I won't do that. I can't kill myself. Because there's always some day." He blinks wet eyes and tilts his head, sad but hopeful. "Coyote laughs."

Paenita reaches, taking his hand on the available arm. She squeezes. Her grip is as strong as one might expect for someone who swings a warhammer and pulls the reins on a steed easily ten times her weight. Her grip is firm, at the edge of painful, her fingers both soft and calloused.

"I do not have the geas and I make no promises." Another squeeze, "You will tell me if the sadness gets great."

She lets go and sits back, a suit of armour with a person inside. "We make the choice of path without knowing where it lead. The feelings come, then they go, how are you to argue with them? It is, as I say...

"... a story of Isobar."