Housewarming

Log Info

• Title: Housewarming
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Verna
• Place: Lower Markets, Aryia's Abode
• Time: December 7th, 2021
• Summary: Verna pays a surprise visit to Aryia at her new residency, one that the mute was beyond surprised and suspicious of the Mourner's arrival. Getting that strangeness out of the way, Aryia welcomes her in to her barren home, naught but boxes to sit on for furniture. Verna mentions she has a housewarming gift for Violet and Aryia, her casting a spell upon an empty wall. Come to find out it's a fully loaded conjured mansion, filled with amenities and comfort for far more than just a simple couple living on their own. There's also a room styled after Aryia's memories, which evokes further ones from the ex-noble, her getting the last dots to connect them all. She shares what happened to her, nearly the fully story, to Verna. Afterwards, they enjoy the amenities, relaxing.

Lower Markets, Midday.

142A Lynxstride Lane. A small street a couple of blocks away from the heart of the markets. Traffic is light to non existent, as errant small shops litter the road, supplied by humble abodes and condominiums for the more meagerly lived.

One such residency was of the latter, a condo who's door was adjacent to an alleyway. A single window would give way to anything within, were there not heavy, heavy curtains blocking any light from entering, as well as any prying eyes. Though, a singular potted plant rests in the window sill. Black petaled, and closed, despite the time of day.

Verna is passingly familiar with the markets, though primarily as a path to elsewhere, as she is not typically an avid browser nor purchaser. Not in the scope of these markets, no offense to their wares.

This day they are again a path rather than a destination, as she moves with purpose and direction to the particular alleyway in question. From there she approaches the single door after noting the markings on the building and street more than the plant on the sill. Once at the door, she raps leather-clad knuckles upon it in a customary announcement of presence.

There's a faint noise of shuffling that ceases from within the abode. It goes quiet. An observant eye may notice the curtains shift some, someone having briefly peered out the window to gain insight on who was visiting this place.

Instead of the door opening, there's a return knock. And scrape. And stutter. The other half of Handspeech.

"What kind of tea did you get yesterday?" <Handspeech>

Verna is momentarily surprised by the inquiry. For a moment. She then realizes that the relocation may be due to more than simply a desire for change of scenery or additional space. "I requested the honey lavendar," she responds after a moment. "Though I now realize that I did not drink any at the table with you."

There's a bolt that slides open, and a flick of a lock that bars no hold for the door to creak open. An incredibly dressed down Aryia appears, in her lazy long sleeves and loose comfy pants. "Yes, and it was very rude of you," she jokes, waving the sentence off just as she finishes signing it. Though, the glad nature of the visit quickly switches to suspicion, "So... how the fuck did you figure out where I moved to?"

The door widens some, and the mute gestures for Verna to come in. It was too cold outside to parley at the door frame.

Inside was a... somewhat disappointing sight. The abode wasn't very large at all, sporting a common room, an offshoot to the side for a kitchen, and a small hearth illuminated two doors in the back that would lead to two other bedrooms. But it was... empty. A few boxes were scattered here and there. A small pile of wood near the hearth for later, as well as for the cold range in the kitchen. But there was nothing. No tables, no chairs, not even a stool to rest upon. Lit candles were scattered about the space, illuminating what the warming fire didn't.

"... welcome. Sit anywhere..." Aryia mentions, rubbing her neck and gesturing out to the few boxes that had discarded cloth atop it to cushion it slightly.<Handspeech>

Verna enters as she is invited, doffing her head as she does so. It is only afterwards that she answers the accusation and inquiry. "My apologies, both for my abrupt departure the prior day and my unannounced arrival here. I intended no offense with either, and neither is a cause for concern."

"As to how I located you, it was a matter of magic. No simple matter, and the fact that we are already familiar was a critical factor. I would not typically resort to such measures, or otherwise arrive unannounced, but I wished to speak with you before other matters are handled, and time grows short."

Aryia shuts the door and bolts it closed, her pausing at the explanation. Her face tinges red some. "... Scryed on me," she concludes, frowning some before shaking her head and moving a broom near the door to a better spot in the kitchen.

She pads over, plopping herself down on a wooden box with a worried expression on her visage. "What's done is done. Just don't go giving my address out. But uh... alright, what is it?" <Handspeech>

"If it is any consolation," Verna corrects, "I did not scry upon you. I merely determined your location and witnessed nothing of here until you opened the door. As well, I have no intention of revealing your whereabouts to anyone without your express wish." Her lips purse as she observe the flop and fret. "I would not take actions to cause you risk or harm, Aryia, intended nor otherwise."

Falling silent and possible awkward in the wake, she glances over the abode for several moments. "It appears quite spacious, and has a kitchen. A great improvement from a room at an inn."

The further explanation abates some of her worries, but an old part of her still felt embarrassment for not being able to host on a dime. Aryia nods slowly, crossing one leg over the other. "Thank you. The... privacy of my whereabout is kind of the reason why I moved. We, moved."

The fire in the hearth was the only thing that filled the silence in that moment. Though, Aryia was a constant state of awkward, so she didn't comment on the lull. She smiles weakly, and silently chuckles. "It certainly is bigger than the room at the inn. Neither of us are too terribly good at cooking, so I don't think it will be used too much. My previous abode in a past life was... a bit too large, in my hindsighted opinion. This will serve well. For peace of mind, and a spot of normalcy, whatever that may be." <Handspeech>

Verna nods at the explanation and description. "I readily understand all of those... though I intend attempts to improve my own culinary skills, or lack thereof, in the future, if I am able. As for matters of privacy and prior abodes," Verna notes as she steps near an empty spot of wall, "the intent of my visit was to offer a ... housewarming gift, I believe is the term, that would address both."

Aryia smiles some, torch-bright eyes slitting some in the low light of the abode. "Who knows, maybe I had a cooking stint in my past? Perhaps that is something we could hone together."

Laying down future endeavors to not think about them being cut short.

Though, the offer makes her white brows shoot up near to the top of her head. "... you... brought us something? That's... really kind of you," she motions slowly, her weak smile bleeding out to be warmer. <Handspeech>

"I did, and you are both quite welcome," Verna turns to her and offers a light smile in return before returning her attention to the wall. A few tiny items are produced from her robes: a minute silver spoon; a piece of marble; a carved bit of ivory. "Whether or how you wish to make use of such, I leave to the two of you, and any others you might wish to incorporate."

She pauses, then, in some further consideration or concentration. After that moment, she begins to incant, and gesture along the wall. The predominant movement of her hand is a vertical rise along the wall to point to the top, a horizontal pan to her right, followed by a vertical line downward back to the floor.

Once this is complete, the delineated rectangle of wall shimmers faintly. Verna studies it a moment furth and then appears satisfied as she takes a pair of steps rearward. Gloved hands now gesture more simply towards the phenomenon. "After you, at your leisure."

Aryia slowly rises, and pads barefoot over to the wall. Curious as to whatever it was that Verna was doing, she watches over a shoulder.

Blink blink.

Oh. It was some magic stuff. Wait... didn't... Aryia was pretty sure she's seen this before...

Confused by this offering, she gives a slow nod to accept the invitation. Though, she holds up a finger, and scurries off to her bedroom.

Ruffle ruffle.

She returns. Ah. Shoes. Taking the invitation properly now, she hesitantly passes the threshold of the inscribed rectangle.

If Aryia has seen it before, then the moving through the wall (or, technically, going elsewhere before ever reaching it) would not be unusual. She arrives, promptly followed by Verna, into a simple small foyer.

By simple, it is sparsely furnished with a silk overstuffed couch and numerous hooks and stands for outerwear. As for small, it is likely only half or two-thirds size of half the room they were in.

Ahead, the space opens up significantly further to a grand hall easily fifty feet on a side. This is divided into three sections by purpose and furniture more than any partitions, with a dining table for several dozen surrounded by serving tables bearing a variety of foods and tended by semi-translucent servers and waitstaff to denote an eating area to their right.

Ahead is a lounge with a hearth surrounded by lush rugs and seating, yet leaves ample room to pass by to the grand staircase opposite which leads to an upper level. To the left of the foyer, sunk into the stone of the flooring, is a pool several strides wide and three times as long.

While it is not a recreation of a particular location, the style is recognizable: more recently familiar to Aryia, and presumably known to Verna (and might explain its presence), it is of Charneth design, specifically opulent Charneth design with all its likely ostentatiousness. All, save for one significant detail: there is an utter lack of religious iconography. Such is not required nor desired, whether the intent is comfort, reminiscence, or something else.

Verna looks over the interior with a studious eye, possibly wondering if one or more details were overlooked or malformed.

GAME: Verna refreshes spells.

GAME: Verna casts Mage's Magnificent Mansion. Caster Level: 18 DC: 23

It was still a strange sensation regardless. Aryia's abode was warmed, yet unevenly so, and here not even a draft of chill was in the air. She stands, stunned, in the foyer, slowly swinging her gaze about the space ahead.

An old part of her felt horribly underdressed. The current part of her was curious.

And as her gaze took in the style, the old part of her decided to make itself known. "M-rv-l-s," she hisses out a bit louder than she normally whispers at, but then catches herself as she coughs some. <Undercommon>

Slowly, the mute ambles in, rubbing at the side of her head while carefully running a hand over the ornate furniture, lips parted slightly in bewilderment. The last time she was in a spell like this, it was just a warm cave, and nothing more.

Her gaze rises to Verna, and a hand relays her inner bafflement.

"Magic is such bullshit." <Handspeech>

"I understand that this is somewhat... excessive to your needs, now," Verna gestures vaguely about, "but I thought that it might aid you with your past. Perhaps exploring it in some fashion, in the present, might help with your headaches or concerns. It is possible a familiar sight might aid you to recall more."

"Predominantly, however, know that this place is secure. Only you, Violet, and myself can enter at the moment, though I can extend the invitation to others of your choosing. As well, you need not make haste to organize or acquire solely for comfort, so that you might better have the time to enjoy the situation. There should be food and service enough for anything you may require."

When Aryia signs her overall opinion to her, Verna counter-opines, "Magic for most is years of study, practice, and experience. Much of it is far more practical than this," she considers the area anew, "but such is not entirely wasteful, overall, I suppose. Afterall, one could shelter dozens of the homeless, injured, or orphaned here where they could be warmed, rested, and fed." <Handspeech>

Aryia takes in the counterpoint, and she gives a small sigh. "I don't discount your efforts to get to the point to do this. I just find myself a tinge envious. As best I can accomplish is playing with light and the lack thereof. Many mundane efforts to keep ourselves safe and secure, yet here it can be resolved with some words, a motion, and a few items of interest."

The mute elects to sit on an overstuffed chair near the hearth, kicking her boots off. Her face relaxes some, and she offers a smile, "Still... though, thank you. This place will certainly bring some peace of mind to the two of us. When she gets back from work, I'll tell her about it."

Now to the crux of the matter, or, manor, in this case. She rises, slowly padding around barefoot to take in the extravagance of it all. She rubs the side of her head again as peers into the dining hall. "... it... tugs the strings of my memory... our estate wasn't this... elaborate. But some of it is familiar..." <Handspeech>

"Again, you are most welcome. Conversely, I do not discount efforts of sweat and skill, nor should you," Verna notes. "Magic can be a powerful tool, but it is not omnipotent and is nearly always fleeting. This will remain for the better part of two days, perhaps late night tomorrow or the early morn after. Some respite for you both, for a time."

The mention of her former estate prompts Verna to add, "While I could only base this upon that which I am familiar, and I know little of your prior family estate..." her eyes shift to the stairs, "There is a room, above, that I hope might be approprately recalled with enough detail to your liking."

"A lot of sweat, some tears, and dumb mistakes." Aryia nods at the time frame the spell would last, filing it away for later. If it was permenant, that'd be overkill.

Though, a small part of her wouldn't complain about it.

She stops her idle inspection to stare at Verna. Blink blink. And without a word, the pugilist is already up the stairs in a blur of grey, bounding up each step five at a time before searching for said room and throwing the door open. <Handspeech>

Verna may not have expected that. Even if she had, the chances that her abilities to ascend the stairs might fall anywhere within the same general classification of Aryia's are infintessimal. Thus, she is delayed in following and further delayed in arriving.

As for the room, it is Aryia's... or, more appropriately, Zilstrae's. At least insomuch as Verna was able to witness from the shared memory of such. The large double doors to enter; the fine silk curtains; the mirror. Here the items of Taara and Maugrim are present, though in the background, perhaps subdued (whether due to clarity issues of the memory or simply to be present without overpowering).

Verna is easily able to catch up to the brisk full blood, due to her being, yet again, stunned into inaction. It wasn't until the Mourner arrived that Aryia did anything.

She slowly enters, gaze languidly sweeping from feature to feature. A hand picking up a bauble, fiddling with a curtain. Movements lead her to the mirror where-

She stops, locking eyes with herself. Something she doesn't do very often at all, given her hesitancy for self-reflection. A hand reaches out to place a flat palm against the surface, her breathing growing more erratic.

She whips her head over her shoulder, glowing gaze dimming for a moment as she tracks something that isn't there, then careens back towards the open double doors.

It wasn't hot in the magical space, yet the mul'neissa was starting to sweat, eyes shaking some as an incredibly heavy sense of deja vu was playing out in her mindspace. Her attention flicks back to two spots: right in front of her, and off to her side. Her arms rise on their own accord, and try to loop two figures into an embrace.

She meets air. The spell is broken.

"... so that's what happened..." she gestures slowly after a long, paralyzing moment. <Handspeech>

Verna arrives in time to see Aryia rise to embrace... air. Obviously, there are parts of the memory (that Verna viewed previously) which she did not incoporate. Phantasmal parents, for example, would be ...rude, at best, cruel, at worst.

Now that it seems such was not necessary, or something further was triggered, Verna frowns. Perhaps this was not a good idea, afterall. It would not be her first error in judgement, by far.

"Is all... well?" she inquires, somewhat tentatively.

Aryia makes a slow motion of pulling a handkerchief free from what would presume where a pocket would be, yet her hand only finds her slouchy shirt. The disconcordant state of mind was discombobulating, the sweating elf taking a few staggering steps back to sit upon the bed. Errant her attention was to the space around her, eyes flicking about to different pieces of furniture and doors. "No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know..." she answers after a long moment before gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes. A hand massages the side of her head, yet the other holds up in a halting fashion at the expense of potentially getting aid. "... I remember the rest of it. And... so much more. Fuck..."

The pugilist flops backwards onto the bed. Staring at the more nondescript ceiling to ward off the intense flow of unearthed memories. After a long moment, she reluctantly gestures, "... they sold me. Had to. Their hand was forced..." <Handspeech>

Verna steps forward reflexively as Aryia staggers back to sit, though she pauses at the halting hand. Perhaps it is just as well that she simply listens, which she does. Patiently, albeit more to allow Aryia to compose and arrange herself and her thoughts than to mull over greate volumes of words.

She blinks at the gestures. Her lips purse somewhat, perhaps also out of reflex. That reflex is halted short of a frown, however. "How so? Were you ... touched, as it were, even then?"

There's another period of time where Aryia is sorting out her brain. Though, during that time, she gestures Verna closer, and pats the bed beside her so Verna needn't stand there. She just didn't want any aid in terms of fixing the clearly ravaging headache.

Then, more signs. "Maybe. I don't know yet. I just know that..."

A heavy sigh.

She signs to the ceiling, her eyes opening with a a mere fraction of their usual glimmer. "... Taara and Maugrim left us. For... reasons I don't know yet. The gala was the last event we were going to attend before we fled the city. Mother and father couldn't... provide services as usual. And the temples took notice of it. I don't know who my parents contacts to arrange it, but they filed to have me sold as compensation. Beauracarcy takes time, so we thought we had a few days to escape. But..."

Her head lulls to the side to look at the doors. "... it got expedited. We were to flee that very night of the gala. Slip out afterwards... yet..."

She closes her eyes, a hand burying itself into the sheets and clenching tightly. "... the nobles wanted blood. Bayed for it. Coupled with whatever bullshit the moon pulled on us, it was quick to figure out we couldn't defend ourselves with our normal blessings. At an impasse. My parents... ended up selling me like normal. But in that punishment manner that you said before..."

...

".... that was the last I saw them." <Handspeech>

Now the frown forms, with the additional information; a fleeting thought had occured, but now seems too speculative and unlikely to mention. "I see... While not in the manner originally intended, nor preferred, it seems that your parents were successful in making good on your escape." It is fact, truly, considering, and a positive one.

Aryia couldn't help but frown as well, though her lips were twisted in both pain and melancholy. She gives a half hearted huff of a laugh that was warbled by what could have been a sob. "About seventy years late on that, but yes, you're right in the end," she signs, little specs of shade being tossed about as she does so. "I just don't know why all this would happen..." <Handspeech>

"Nor do I, not with any specific detail," Verna admits, "but it is still very possible to determine that. Seven decades is a short span for mul'niessa. Others will likely know what we do not."

Aryia huffs, slowly rising to a sit as she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. She flicks her hand once to free it of shade, it staining the bed for a moment before it fades away. "Short for mul'neissa, a long time for me. I'm still young. A hundred ten, give or take a couple of years."

Though, she sighs heavily, rubbing at the sides of her head as her headache was in full force, a drop of sweat falling off her chin. "Barring that..."

A glance around the room. "I... remember this room better now. My room. Shit... feels... weird to be in here..." <Handspeech>

"My father was perhaps not yet born at that time," Verna notes on the scale of time. "It is rather relative, but it was not meant to belittle the importance and impact to you; only that it is not so distant a past for others, who may be able to provide answers, or lead you to them."

Aryia gives a small nod. "I know, I know, I just... have to find someone that was around then. Any there's not that many that would be, aside from probably those that would have facilitated our excision."

The pugilist rubs at her face, gaze settling on the mirror across the way. She's able to look at herself for the briefest a moments before glancing to the ground. A weak chuckle. "... shit, I was such a bitch back then." <Handspeech>

"Those involved would be the most knowledgeable of the events, certainly," Verna concurs, "yet perhaps those least interested in sharing that knowledge. In my opinion, you were a typical mul'niessan youth, though I admit that my experience with such is somewhat limited."

Aryia quietly laughs, though it was subdued to keep her head from busting in half. "So an asshole, got it," she weakly jokes. Though, she sighs languidly. "I do wish I still had an iota of that confidence though. Those decades sure did know how to strip that away."

A pause. "... I... think this gift was a good idea. The more I'm able to connect the dots, the less of a pain all the floating tidbits of information is." <Handspeech>

Verna arches a brow slightly at Ariya. "An iota of confidence? You have wrestled fiends out of the sky, shatter walls with your fists as a past time, and survived an ordeal that few would. I expect that you have more confidence than before, and it is earned and justified, not merely naivete' of youth."

Following the further appraisal, she nods. "I am pleased that it is proving helpful, yet there remains the intent that you shall also ...relax."

Aryia's cheeks gain a dash of color. "Ah, well, um. Yes, that is true... I just mean more like... I'm confident of my ability, just not myself. If you know what I mean." Maybe that vaguely explained it. Maybe.

Ah. Yes. That. The mul'neissa gives a long sigh and looks to the door. "Yes... I can do that, I think. Maybe not in this room, but probably downstairs."

A beat to think.

"... is that pool heated...?" she asks slowly. <Handspeech>

Verna's brow inches a modicum higher and she gestures in return. "It would be a poor housewarming gift if the water were frigid, would it not? If that is what you wished, you could easily fall into the Tornmwar, instead." All logical.. and possibly triple-entendred. "I am confident of you, and I know that several other are, as well."

Aryia snorts at that, her shaking her head and grimacing at the same time from the notion and motion. "Fuck, ugh, no please not again. It's starting to snow outside, I don't want to deal with that at all."

The mute rubs the webbing of her hand. "... thank you. As cheesy as it is to say, that's kind of what keeps me going." <Handspeech>

"You are welcome." Verna responds, though with a literal repeat of that same gesture. She then speaks aloud, "We are not alone, nor wish to be; the impact of others can be far greater than one might expect."

Aryia gives a slow nod. "Yes... I would not be where I am today were it not for most people picking me up." <handspeech>

"Nor I, and I am grateful for that," Verna affirms and concurs. After a pause, perhaps long enough to become awkward (she is adept at that, at times), she segues back to, "Did you wish to partake of the pool? Or the food? It is unlikely that either will run dry."

Aryia was welcome for the supposed awkward silence, it afforded her a time to rub the sides of her head in silence, stemming what she could of the raging headache that was set in motion. "Why not both?" she motions after a spell, smiling weakly. "I know the rest of your day may be busy, but... care to join me?" <Handspech>

Verna turns to glance down the stairs. "It would be ..wasteful to leave the food and water untouched..." Yes, illogical to ignore. It is, afterall, solely about logic. She turns back and nods. "I can join you for a time, though my day shall be occupied, as you noted."

Aryia stands, her smile solidifying. Though, just the faintest hint of worry seeps through. There's a lot she wants to say to her, but anything said would just weigh more heavily on one's mind that it need be. So instead.

She beckons to follow. "Come. Let's make a memory we can look back on. So the light of our candle may burn on through the darkest of nights." <Handspeech>

She extends a hand. Her eyes brighten once more. A soft flowing wind.

"Sh-ll w-?" <Celestial>

-End Scene-