Live and Let Live

It is amazing really, to sit in the gardens watching the snow drift down from the sky without ever reaching the ground. It's simply too warm in the gardens themselves for the snow to land and stick. Yet the snow never ceases to try. Here the plants are still abloom, the grass still green and the temperature pleasant and mild. It's a comfortable place to be even with winter finally here.

Auranar sits on a bench, her head tilted back as she watches the snow drift toward the ground it will never reach. A book sits idly on her lap. Not really forgotten, but no longer being read at the moment. It's been set aside in the favor of marveling at the beauty of the nature around her. Even if it is all out of season. The book is simply bound, and clearly old, but not particularly well-worn. It has no title sprawled across the cover.

There are other equally amazing situations, in the minds of others. One could be serendipity, as Verna exits from a nearby tea shop (one she was recently made aware of by certain parties) and enters the gardens. Only to spy a familiar and, indeed, sought, party.

She does not approach immediately, however, taking in the scene before her, as well. The quiet serenity and natural beauty of the the moment that encourages ...introspection? retrospection? Verna is further aware of the foliage and falling snow that does not reach the ground, and perhaps even the book, if all to a somewhat lesser extent.

Before she stands observant overlong (or so she hopes), she now approaches the bench, doffing her hood regardless of whether any wayward snowflakes might make it so near the ground. "Good day," she greets as she nears. "It is good to see you."

The elvish woman doesn't notice Verna's approach right away, but she's aware of the other woman before her greeting. Which saves her from an embarrassing surprised reaction to Verna's greeting. Instead she turns her head toward Verna, and offers a warm smile. "Good day." She offers back, and makes room on the bench by subtly slipping more to the side. "Care to join me?"

The smile is returned, and quite reflexively, albeit Verna's is more subdued than the original. Still, an ...improvement. "I would be delighted, thank you." She accepts the offer and the implied spot, settling adjacent on the bench. "What brings you to the gardens? Light reading amidst the leaves and blooms?" she inquires and ventures.

Auranar gives a wry grin. "A touch obvious isn't it? It's a pleasant place to spend time, particularly when its so cold outside elsewhere." She looks toward the plants growing and offers a bit wistfully. "It reminds me of Llyranost after a fashion. It makes me wonder what it is like there when it's winter."

She shakes her head suddenly and returns her attention to Verna. "Sorry. My thoughts are all tied up in my book it seems. How are you?"

"I am well enough," Verna responds simply before noting, "and you need not apologize. Your book, your work, is very important. I take no offense."

She then looks about them in belated following of Auranar's gaze at the plants and weather. "Regrettably, such was not so obvious to me, and I have not had the opportunity to visit Llyranost." Her eyes return to her benchmate. "Fortunately, I have had the fortune, as of late, to have my eyes opened to the pleasant and beautiful around me to which I had not paid the notice they are due."

If anything, Verna's words seem to embarass Auranar, and she takes a moment to fold her book back into its proper form, and then tucks it away in a bag at her side. The better to protect it from the elements once she leaves. "It's easy to spend all your time in books." Offers Auranar sympathetically. "Whether for research or for pleasure. It's easy to forget the world around you. So, to whom do I owe thanks that you've been spending more time noticing this world?"

"Indeed, it is," Verna notes, briefly carrying an actual tone; one of regret. It is quite fleeting, however, and her words lighten immediately afterwards. "A fellow scholar, who knows the utility and power of knowledge as well as I... yet also wise enough to not ignore the remainder of the world and life in the process. One rather knowledgeable in pleasant matters, given that she is a most adept chef, entertainingly conversant, and, like you described the garden, a pleasant presence with which to spend one's time admiring."

This should probably be the part where she should attempt to NOT smile, yet there it is. Irony, perhaps. "I am quite certain that I am the one that owes you thanks, Auranar."

It is a mark perhaps of Auranar's expectations, or perhaps her perception of herself, that she doesn't realize who Verna is describing until Verna smiles and finishes her statement. Then, Auranar blushes, glad of her dark skin to hide the color on her cheeks, but the moment of embarrassment is clear on her features nonetheless. The slight widening of her eyes in surprise, the way they fall a moment later as she tries to find something to say. Her lips parted with a half smile. She finally lets out a soft breath and laughs.

"Verna..." She trails off into bemused silence for a moment and then seems to find her words. "You're too kind. Thank you." Well... a few words in any case.

Verna is uncertain of a number of things. Foremost Auranar's reaction, which then prompts her to analyze her (rather uncharactstic) hasty words; facts they may be, but she would likely have prepared something more...prepared. Before she can delve further down that route, however, Auranar is smiling, which pulls her out.

"You are most welcome. I ..." now she is uncertain of words. Obviously it is contagious. "... thank you."

Auranar giggles lightly and shakes her head. "Well, now that we've both gotten thanking one another out of the way. What brings you to the garden?"

"You did," Verna admits, pauses, then caveats, "Rather, I sought you at the tea shop and travelled through the gardens intent upon elsewhere." She realizes this may be semantics, and segues to the topic, itself.

"There are events unfolding, related to your work. Given its importance to you, I wished for you to know, though I cannot share much. A stand shall be made, and soon. With all good fortune and effort, you will need not worry of such ever again."

Auaranar is patient, and waits until Verna is done speaking to tilt her head to the side. The confusion on her features is as clear as was the embarrassment earlier. Auranar isn't terribly good at hiding her emotions. "A stand?" She blinks and after a moment puts away her current line of thought enough to understand what Verna is alluding to. "Wait! You're making a stand against _him_?"

Suddenly she grasps Verna's hand. "I want to be there." She says this seriously, her expression tense. "If you're taking him down, I want to be there."

"Aura..." The demand is not unexpected. On the contrary, it was... feared. Enough that the abbreviated appellation is due to faltering rather than an intentional affectionate shorthand. It was expected, thus Verna prepared a response for this contingency. Yes? No? Maybe?

"I understand, and you may hold as much right as any to be present... but I ... have concerns." Truth, if slightly nondescript.

"What concerns?" Auranar looks at Verna in confusion. "I know the danger that I would be in. He..." She presses her lips together. She's died before. It wouldn't be the first time. Death is not a desired outcome, but the thought of the defeat of Eclavdran coming and her not being able to be of assistance... That is a thing that she can not so easily abide. "I would be in no more or less danger than anyone else that intends to face him."

'He.. would have done unspeakable things to her?' Verna is all-too familiar with that, and that she has died at least once before. Verna earned herself something of a punch card in dealing with the Demon Duke, herself. None of these facts make any of this any easier, in truth. not for Verna.

"I know," she admits. Hopes. Frowns. "I cannot guarantee your safety... possibly not even if we succeed. There shall likely be consequences for mere presence..."

She exhales a sigh and lowers her eyes. "I would very much prefer that I might keep you safe. For once."

Auranar's hand tightens briefly on Verna's, her urgency unfaded by Verna's admission. "If you are going into this danger, why can not I? I... I understand that I might not be of much aid to you, but even at the risk to my own life I would be there. I've never asked in this to be kept safe Verna. I don't want to be wrapped up like a child and sent on my way."

For one generally attributed to lack of inflection/expression, logic, perhaps even stoicism... Verna must have left those in her other robes?

Her held hand now returns a bit of a squeeze on Aruanar's, and her other moves to rest atop it, in addition. She meets the sil's gaze again, but rather furtively as things churn behind her eyes. There is a clear logical, conservative option. There is one far more emotional one. Neither seems to have more pros than cons in their respective contexts. This, in any context, makes them both poor. Yes?

"I do not believe this shall be about direct might nor power, and you may know more of him than anyone. It was not an insult to your abilities..." Now she is apologizing?

She closes her eyes, suddenly, pausing once more for several breaths, before she asks, "If I bring you, and am responsible for taking us there, I have a demand of you..."

Nervously, Auranar licks her lips, but she holds herself steady. Feeling as though maybe she's going to win this argument. She has hope. "What?" She won't agree to it before she knows what it is, but she can feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Using their hands to mark Auranar's relative position, Verna leans nearly nose to nose (or as near as she can given their relative stature), before opening her eyes. She promptly re-locks her gaze. "I will grant you your victory, you must grant me mine: survive. Whatever may happen."

That is her demand... though if her eyes and expression are any indication, it is as much a plea.

It's not what Auranar expects. She holds completely still as Verna leans in, all but holds her breath in anticipation. Then the words, spoken so close to her that they ring in her ears. Her eyes tear up and she feels the desperation inside her crumbling. "That's not fair Verna. You can't make me promise something that you can't promise yourself." Her words are quiet things. "We both know that the only way I can stay safe is if I don't go at all."

Verna exhales a breath and possibly makes an nigh-imperceptible nod as Auranar points out the logic. "That is not fair, either, Auranar. You have perhaps lost or sacrificed more of your life to this than any. You are not a child, nor incapable, nor inferior, and do not require coddling. I wish you safe and well. I also wish you all you deserve and desire."

The elvish woman shakes her head slowly. "I want to be there. I want to help!" She finally releases Verna and takes her hand back so that it falls by chance on the bag that holds her book at her side. Her fingers stroke the paper idly and she looks at Verna. "I'm not the only one that's sacrificed something. All of us have been working so hard to defeat him. Maybe it's selfish of me to want to be there if you have a plan to finally defeat him but... I want it so much."

"It is not selfishness that drives you to work against him, nor to want to aid others, nor see an end," Verna assures her. Her eyes follow the drifting hand down, sparking a shift in thought. Perhaps that -she- was the one who had been rather selfish as of late.

She looks back up to Auranar. "You mentioned before that you were close to a discovery. Whatever you have learned, now would be the time to share, as it may well be needed very soon."

Auranar hands a few papers pulled from her pocket to Verna. Pressing it into her fingers. "Here. It's all the notes I was able to uncover. On everything. Maybe... they can help where I can't." She stands up suddenly, clutching her bag to her chest. "I won't ask where you're going. Or... try to find out what you're up to. Just... Take care of yourself, and if you can, defeat him."

There's tears in Auranar's eyes again, but they don't shed, she leaves instead. Leaving Verna with her notes and the hope that something there can help. That something there will help them defeat Eclavdran.

"Aura-" There, she did it again... and, once again, it was not an intentional abbreviation. Vern is left standing in the garden watching after her departure. Alone, book in hand (or part of one), as she nearly always is.

Auranar is safe, as she wanted.

Why does this not seem entirely comfortable, at this moment?

-End