Painted Glass

Log Info

• Title: Painted Glass

• Emitter: Skielstregar

• Characters: Skielstregar, Aelwyn, Cuemoni

• Place: Lower Markets

• Summary: Skieltregar and his weapon Malefic buy out a poor glassblower of his figurines while Aelwyn and Cuemoni place new, non-dragon related commissions. Skiel learns about some new developments about his friends.

Lower Markets, Midday

"Peassse on your nessst!"

"Oh, Reos /damnit/! Not you two again!"

A towering, massive, shiny silverscaled makari smiles with gnarly teeth on display. Beside him, a similarly shiny halberd, a jagged crack through the axehead curled upwards in a grin. Both looking on across a stall with a gnome with a mixed expression of irate but exhausted. Around him, on his stall, was many dangling displays of glass, primarily figurines.

The halberd's 'maw' bends and snaps, metallic voice declaring, "We are here to peruse your finest-"

"Yes yes yes, every time you two come here I have to- agh! Fine fine fine! Here. There right here!" he points at the stall. "This is what I've been able to make sense you've been gone!"

Both lean in to inspect. Both intoning with a rumbling, "Oooh...!"

Familiar voice-s. Familiar stall. Familiar blinding bright that is a shiny makari. Clad in his chainshirt slash open jacket for once, a ruddy sith-makar slowly makes his way over; hand lazily draped over his glaive. A large sack was wrapped around his shoulder, down his waist.

"Tch, being a great customer again, Silver?" Aelwyn asks with his teeth shining in his grim grin. "Is this for a snack or for personal pleasure?" He asks then, looking at Malefic.

A turquoise-scaled sith-makar enters the market herself, red lines painted around her golden eyes and symbols painted with the same pigment running down her head.

She sings something quietly to herself, something that's a warm little rumble in her chest as she starts to look around the market:

"In this spot of turquoise and green,

Thinking of fair songs and roses;

Calling all friends and their kin

To sing of short lives on long earth,

To rejoice the spirits' offers--" <Draconic>

Then her golden eyes nictate as she catches sight of a silver-scaled makari and his polearm, as well as the ruddy-runt one. Cuemoni makes a little rumbling noise, and she walks to the stall where Skielstregar is towering over the glass-peddler gnome.

"Peace upon your nests," she greets. "This one did not know you were fond of the bright-painted glass, Warrior Skielstregar."

Skielstregar and Malefic hem and haw at the baubles, murmuring to themselves as they're already picking out a few to purchase. And by a few, they've already selected half a dozen.

He perks. "Mrrh?" Turns. "Ah! Dragoon Aelwyn! Peassse on your nesst! It isss good to sssee you. Yesss, we are!"

"Snack? No!" Malefic scoffs. "I would /never/ eat them! They are for my glittering, glamorous sanctuary!"

The gnome glassblower's head thuds against the countertop. "My art, reduced to baubles... I want to make other things..," he grumbles.

Skiel shifts some, about to say something else, but he samples the air. Quirks his head. Quitely to himself, he murmurs, "Shaman Z-..."

He turns. Blinks. Then perks, tail swaying. "Ah! Shaman Cuemoni! Peassse on your nessst! Thisss one likess them, they are very shiny and glitter prettily in the sun. Malefic likesss to collect them."

"For the hoard..." the weapon metallically growls, several figurines already dangling from its maw. When did it pick those up?

Aelwyn tilts his head in amusement. "Sanctuary, now?" The Dragoon asks with a very broad grin on his face. He too then walks towards the glass figurines, giving them a curious look. "Tch, that is a spirit, Silver." The gnome's lamentations catches his attention and he tilts his head. As a fellow artist himself, the draconian bows his head. "One must become within the cage of the whims of their audience, is it not so?"

But the figurines were shiny. It is Cuemoni's arrival that distracts himself from perusing as well. "Shaman," He greets, "That was a song well hummed." His tail flicks. "Did Silver's beacon also call one closer?"

There's a scent of something bashful coming from Cuemoni when Skielstregar nearly greets another makari that they know. Her golden eyes nictate again, her tail suddenly now much more reserved. Not that it can really be out and about in a place as busy as a softskin market. "This one greets the Warrior-spirit Malefic, as well," Cuemoni responds to Malefic the Glass-mawed.

Aelwyn gets the turn of the golden eyes next, the druid nodding a little. "This one has not seen the Warrior Skielstregar in some time," Cuemoni replies. "It is good to meet friends. The spirits are kind as of late in that regard."

The glassblower shakes his head as more figurines are looted by the halberd. Rolling his forehead across the wood as he does. "I need a different audience..." he bemoans.

It seems like all the ones that Malefic is picking out are different creatures, with a bias towards draconic looking beings. The weapon seems to grin wider. "Dragonfather's warmth upon you, Cuemoni," Malefic intones.

Skielstregar turns his head at the scent that wafts by, but he disregards it. A large hand claps Aelwyn on the shoulder. "Sssa. It isss! Have you met Dragoon Aelwyn? He isss very ssstrong. And fiery. Thisss is Shaman Cuemoni, Aelwyn."

He hums warmly, not paying much attention to the stall as Malefic instead goes shopping, having taken half the stall into their maw at this point. "Spiritsss have been kind? What other good fortunesss have you ran into."

Aelwyn tilts his head as Malefic just... swoops up all the figurines. "Hmm, easy sell." The Dragoon notes, then turns towards the gnome. He leans in closer and quietly whispers, "... yet one could cater to audience, and then focus on their great work with little hindrance of such petty things like coin?" He offers. "Apprentices! Fame! Social parties!" He stretches his arm out. "... all in the maws of Malefic."

Straightening with a wide grin on his face, he turns towards Skielstregar and Cuemoni. He bows his head. "This one has, at the festival of flowers." Then he moves to bump Skielstregar on the hip. "This one did not see Silver there. So many flowers this one carried; and for whom did they wilt?" He grins widely. Then back towards Cuemoni. "This one trusts the festival was pleasant for her?"

"This one did see the Dragoon Aelwyn at the festival of flowers," Cuemoni responds, but somehow the subject of the festival makes that scent of bashfulness all the stronger. "This one... found the festival very pleasant, yes."

Skielstregar's question seems to bear down all the more onto her. A little rumble leaves her chest, something that rolls out of her like a wave rolls onto the beach.

"This one attended the festival with Zeke--the Shaman Zeke." Just mentioning the Shaman's name makes Cuemoni perk up, both in body language and in scent. There's something excited and happy about her now. "This one enjoyed the time there quite a lot."

Her golden eyes settle onto the glass figurines and a thoughtful noise leaves her. "Could this one request a commission of figurines?" she asks the gnome then.

The glassblower watches on as more of his figurines are taken off the stall, hopeless. "It's not about the coin!" he groans. "I want to make other things! Express my creativity! Not be- be- be reduced to a bauble salesman!"

Malefic takes another. "Shiny..."

"See!"

Skielstregar, however, is focused on the two kin. He blinks, then grins as he is bumped. "Thisss one was there! They helped ssset up, then danced mossst of the time! Wasss busy with othersss, didn't sssee you two, sssorry!" he weakly smiles, rubbing his neck. He turns to Cuemoni, catching the bashfulness this time. His posture perks. "Ahh. Ssshaman Zeke! He isss a good friend! Thisss one is glad you got to enjoy the fessstival with him!" Woosh.

The glassblower perks. "Yes! Please! I'll make anything, just not a dragon!"

"Dwagon...!" Malefic growls happily, mouth full of figurines dangling.

Aelwyn rumbles in amusement, watching the exchange between Skielstregar and Cuemoni. "This one is glad that the festival was _very_ pleasurable then." The draconian rumbles with a flick of his tail. "What is a festival, if not a night of passion and regrets?"

Then the ruddy sith-makar makes a face. He would have wanted a dragon. So instead, he clicks his teeth at the gnome. "This one would enjoy a red glass feather." He then tells the gnome, before he returns his attention on the other makari. "Asch, this one missed Silver dancing? How did that miracle happen?" He was exceptionally disappointed, tilting his head back and letting out a sigh. "There must be something in the water to make everyone grow like giants." Mumble rumble.

"This one would like a pair of figurines," Cuemoni requests politely of the glassblower. "Two sith-makar, one with my scale-color and the other with dark blue scales. Nothing detailed or lifelike. Symbols are best." She was wary of things that looked too lifelike in many regards when it came to art."

There's alternating scents of bashfulness and reluctance from the fire druid as she looks between Aelwyn and Skielstregar. "This one enjoyed time with the Shaman Zeke very much. This one's relationship with him is... special. It is unusual for our People's standards. This one does not expect everyone to understand. We are... Simply happy to be companions. To spend cherished time with each other."

Skielstregar quirks his head at Aelwyn, his large tail swaying to one side, then pendulum swinging back to thwack his leg. "You have not changed one bit," the silverscale deadpans before shaking his head and chuckling. "Thisss one dances all the time at partiesss! How do you misss it? Thisss is painted in shiny gold and puts ssshakersss on tail!"

The glassblower pulls out a ledger, ignoring Malefic taking up the last of his wares. "Red feather? And two..." he squints at Cuemoni. Sighs languidly. "I guess that's /technically/ not a dragon. Fine." He pulls out a sheaf of colored fabrics, pulling out a blue that matches Cuemoni, one that is darker blue, as well as a red as he starts to get that organized. "Come back tomorrow. Will have it done."

Skielstregar squints at Cuemoni. Leans in closer. That scent of death and despair slowly growing before the Warrior inhales deeply. Blinks. "You smell of him," he points out dumbly. "There is nothing wrong with wanting to have nice friends-"

Ice cube brain finally hits the other side of his cranium. Dead eyes widen. "You and Zeke are--! AHA!" he guffaws, as cold, strong hands suddenly lift Cuemoni up under the arms like she weighed nothing more than a bag. Holding her to the sky, he grins, tail swinging dangerously behind him "Do you know how happy that makes thisss one?! Ssshaman Zeke dessservesss much love! Very much! Sssa!" The dreadful, deathly scent is washed out with joy.

Aelwyn nods at the gnome. "Tomorrow," He flashes his teeth. "Be an artist, Glassblower."

The show behind him makes him turn his head - and the ruddy sith-makar lays a hand over his face in amusement. Tail thwipping at Skielstregar's ankles, he rumbles, "It seems it is not only this one who can be blind to great things in life." He bows his head at Cuemoni and Skielstregar. "Tch, if this one didn't have to run." A tilt of his head - and he begins to walk away, still stealing glances at the scene behind him. And barely holding back his grin.

Cuemoni nictates her golden eyes as Skielstregar picks her up. Surprise-scent emanates from her thickly now, followed quickly by bashfulness. "Warrior Skielstregar--!" She wiggles a little in his arms. It's an instinctual thing. Lizard no like grippy.

But she stops. Skielstregar is a friend. Despite that smell of death that follows him like a shroud... He is a friend. She lets out a noise like a sigh. "This one--this one endeavors greatly to make Shaman Zeke happy. He does deserve so much in return for all that he does. This one... This one will try, and this one will likely fall short, but..."

She makes a little rumble in her chest. "This one cares far too much for Zeke to _not_ try."

The glassblower sighs in relief, nodding towards Aelwyn. "Thanks. I was going insane with this guy and his... friend," he says slowly, apparently having been down the path of insulting before and meeting bad ends.

Skiel looks to the side at the thwack, him raising a brow. "What do you mean by- ah, okay then! Ssse you later!" he smiles warmly before looking back at the shaman in his grasp.

He holds easily onto the squirming, him gently swaying her from side to side as she's held up against the sun. But soon after, she is set back down onto the ground. "Oh nonesense," he chuffs, a cloud of frozen air wafting by from his nose. "You will do fine! And if you mess up, you can learn! Thisss one is very happy to hear that he hasss found a close companion! And it'sss you! That isss very good. You will make a fine companion for him! Gentle! Wissse!"

He pats her on the shoulder, grinning as his tail thunks against the side of the stall from wagging. "Worry not of what the People think. The People are changing. Softskins becoming kin. Nests are what you make it instead of what isss in it. The People ssshould support how anyone makesss their nessst."

"This one does not want a nest with hatchlings," Cuemoni says, a tiny amount of guilt in her voice. "This one has no interest in mating or taking a mate in that context. This one... may never want a nest and to make hatchlings. Even if it would help to save this one's tribe. This one has been pressured before by members of the tribe, and this one... simply cannot."

She makes a sith-makar sigh. "This one is simply grateful that Zeke understands," she says. "This one cares so very deeply for him, and this one has been so fortunate to find that he cares for this one in the same way. This one..."

Her tail twitches a little in nervousness.

"This one feels so much for him. This one has been given such wonderful words from him, too, of his own feelings. This one..."

She looks at Skielstregar. "Is it too soon to think that Zeke is this one's cihuaa?"

Skielstregar's happy scent grows more muted, his tail stilling some. "... really?" he intones, taking a half step closer. "Interesssting. Do not worry. You ssshould live asss you wisssh. Thisss one can underssstand. Thisss one... erm.... well, perhapsss does not understand the mating bit-" he pulls at his collar, ice frosting his face,- "but making hatchlings; thisss one can undersatnd. Thiss one cannot make any. Thisss one's Chiuaa undersssstandsss and isss accepting of this. Thisss one is sorry that your tribe putsss sssuch ssstrain on you."

He blinks at her nervousness. "... thisss one isss a terrible judgement of that. But um... how long have you two been together?" he curiously asks.

"And isss thisss your first, erm, companion?" he adds.

"Not long," Cuemoni admits. Her tail flicks around even more nervously. "Barely more than nine days. It is a blink of time in the span of the spirits's eyes. And--yes. Zeke is this one's first companion. That is why this one feels it's too soon to say it. This one does not want to hurt the self and Zeke by saying it so soon."

Cuemoni's bashful scent is _thick_ now. "This one is being foolish. And silly. And is behaving like an idiot hatchling more than an adult. But this one cannot deny the great feelings, too. It is... a difficult thing, Warrior Skielstregar. More difficult than this one can really express."

"Nine days--" Skielstregar quirks his head to the side. Blinks. Then loud laughter belts out, his thick tail swinging around to teasingly and lightly thud against Cuemoni's side. "Ah! As the softskins say, moon of honey! It isss a weird phrase, but it isss very applicable now!" he smiles warmly. "Thessse new feelingsss are overwhelming and new, exciting, sssa! But they are very real. It isss, hrm, like a great blaze! Consuming and bright!" he splays his hands out and wide. "But, if you want thisss one'sss opinion, give it time. Fire isss burning hot now. Wait until it cools to a steady glow. The feelings will solidify into something firm. Nine dayssss isss far, far too early, honestly. And- knowing Ssshaman Zeke- it may be better to wait for him to be ready. Ssshaman Zeke hass been through much. But you can mossst certainly warm him up!"

He grins. "Thissss isss very exciting. Very very exciting."

Cuemoni is _so_ embarrassed now. Her tail is wagging a mile a minute in nervous fidgeting. Honey of moon? What does that even mean? Stupid softskin phrases--

Oh, it means she's sweet on him for only a short time. That's actually a clever turn of phrase. The softskins do have cleverness, she admits internally. Zeke, after all, would not have spent so much time among softskins if they were without merit.

"Even in his absence, he helps this one see the brightness in others," Cuemoni murmurs to herself. "It is little wonder that Zeke is such a good servant of the Dragonfather. He shows this one the light."

Cuemoni shakes her head and looks up at Skielstregar. "This one does not want to overwhelm Zeke," she says. "Especially since this one's flames do burn bright and true." It's a real fear on her behalf. "This one thanks you for your advice, Warrior Skielstregar."

Skiel's expression and scent gives a burst of joy. "Sssa! Exactly! Thisss one knowsss he isss a wonderful, and gives thisss one much to look up to asss a servant for Him!" He thuds his chest twice, the Dragonfather amulet bouncing from the motion.

His raucous enthusiasm mutes some, him nodding with a happy rumble in his chest. A too-long taloned hand pats Cuemoni on the shoulder. "Yesss. You do not want to overwhelm him. But- if thessse feelingsss are true and are not of the honied moon- you will have nothing to worry about. Give it time. Enjoy hisss presence. We kin have much time."

His tail sways wide. "Thisss one is very glad to help! Would you like to go do anything? Thisss one--"

"We have IMPORTANT BUSINESS, Warrior!" Malefic tuts. Every single nook and cranny on the weapon's head is dangling in dazzling figurines. It grins. Glass clinks softly. "Lest you forget-- we have a deal! You get mornings off from his RADIANT INCANDESCENCE in the city and I get ALL the trophies!"

"... how many other shops have you ruined...?" the glassblowers looks on in horror.

Malefic ignores him. "Evidence of VICTORY!"

"... that'll be ten gold..."

"Hatchling! Pay him double! This is WORTHY!"

Skiel stares. Deeply sighs. And fishes into his coinpurse.

-End Scene-