Of Glass and Leather

Log Info

• Title: Of Glass and Leather
• Emitter: Skielstregar
• Characters: Skielstregar, Patch
• Place: Lower Trades
• Time: January 23rd, 2023
• Summary: Skielstregar gets kicked out of a shop for constantly cleaning out a glass-blower's stock. On the hunt for another establishment, Patch catches him as she's conversing with a leatherworker. She asks some questions about his less than clean magics displayed during their job together, and they both wonder why the other adventures before a roving glass cart catches his attention and Patch needing to get back to her craft.

Lower Trades, Early Afternoon

It's cold. Darn winter still has its grasp. At least its not snowing, despite the charcoal clouds above that blot out the sky and sun. Still, the Trades are in full motion, the forges and furnaces afire.

At one of the glassblowers, a towering silverscale makari is on their haunches, peering into a gnomish shop as they work. He's in his full equipment, armor, halberd and all. "... erm. Hello, thisss one wasss wondering-"

"Oh no, no no no, not again, you, shoo!" the glassblower complains, throwing a disheveled rag at the makari. It lands, sticking to his face.

"Ack! Wha-"

"I need wares for OTHERS too! You come by and buy everything!"

"But... they are pretty-"

"PRETTY OUT OF STOCK RIGHT NOW!"

Skielstregar pouts. "... very well, peace on your nessst."

He pulls the rag off his face and places it on the stall counter before rising and quietly looking for another establishment for his vice.

In the chill, Patch had been sitting next to Luthor's boot cart. She has her own tools these days, but she still comes to the man to ask his advice as she tries to manipulate leather to her liking. They had been discussing creating pleats for a decretive trim that would wrap about one's calf. It's the noise of Skilstriegar and the glassblower that draw her attention away from work. "Excuse me Luthor. I want to go see what that's all about." a smirk rising to her features. "We can argue straight, or whip in a bit." she assures the human.

Patch is wearing not her coat, but a leather smock, one that fits her tools in pouches before her. She's wearing a sleeved shirt, but the frills of the collar still spill a bit over the leather over piece as she meanders towards the noise with a staggered bit of steps.

"Oh, ho?" Patch calls in play, these words just trying to catch the shiny Makari's notice. She's keeping a bit of distance, letting those who would disperse from the noise and argument do so before stepping forward as the Makari hits the street.

"Everything okay, Skilstreggar? Peace on your nest and all, but that... sounded a bit much." Patch comments quickly after, her eyes seeking his, even if she can't truly tell where his dead glance lands. "What was all that about?" she asks, motioning Skiels to follow her as she uses another hand to point to the spot where she was working. "Do you perhaps need a proxy buyer?"

Skielstregar slows, him standing up straighter and peering around to find out who was calling him. "Mrrh?" He looks around....

Then down. "Ah! P... Patch! Yessss," he smiles to her, a wicked fanged thing. "Peassse on your nessst. Thingsss are okay."

He kneels a bit, dead eyes finding hers. A brow quicks. "Oh, the... glasssssblower? Ah... thisss one hass visssited them too often is all. They have other orders to fufill isss all. Thisss one appreciatess your offer, but thisss one will jussst find another place."

He quirks his head to the side. "How are you? What are you... erm, doing?"

Patch huhs, her attention on the Makari and his words a bit focused. It's almost awkward the length of time she lets his questions sit unanswered. "Other glassblowers? Do you not have a favorite?" she asks, a hand motioning towards where a half-finished pair of boots sit. Heelless, but having some intricate work and stitching to give it flair. "As for me? I'm making boots for us softskins." she muses.

"More, for the soft skin of my feet." The bard teases. "I am just trying my hand at making different styles, experimenting with color. Unlike my peers, I find my inspiration in song, and dress."

"I never expected to work with you. I have to admit, I try to treat all within the walls with the same respect." which is socially polite, as order and hierarchy is not something the bard seems to cherish or follow. "But, I must say.... witnessing your magic, reminded me of... a time I almost died. Is it rude to ask?" she blurts, pausing near her work. "About you, and what's going on there?" her words earning Luthor's eye roll from his cart.

"Don't indulge her questions. Once you start answering, she never stops asking." the man's warning more filled with fondness than true annoyance.

"Hey! Not fair. I have very valid questions!" Patch shoots back, suddenly laughing. "Mostly, anyways."

Skiel shrugs. "Thisss one visssitss several, no favoritesss so far. Thisss one, erm... likesss the little statues," he admits in a quiet rumble, face frosting a bit. He follows her gesture. "Ah. Bootsss. Thisss one can underssstand, the groundsss here are rough." He accentuates his point by clacking his talons against the cobble.

The large makari tilts his head to the side quizically. "Thisss one did sssay they were not asss experienced assss some othersss, it wasss natural we were going to work together at ssssome point."

But the warrior blinks. Glances to Luthor. Back to Patch. "... erm. Certainly. Thiss one isss willing to anssswer any quesssstions you may have. It isss better to accept circumssstances than to live in denial," he mumurs, half sagely, half awkwardly. "Ssso... um. A very long ssstory short, thisss one isss alive because of necromancy. Thisss one can control it to an extent. What iss it that you wisshed to know?"

"Oh, well. That was a good start to understanding what I saw. You see, your touch, and its cool corruption? It was akin to something else I witnessed. Just, you. The magic. A flash, a memory of a bad time." Patch states awkwardly. For once the bard is uncomfortable, a distant look taking her emerald eyes. "Madness, and death. A lot of things witnessed in the snow and winds."

"It was shocking, to see something that I once associated with pure evil, used in ways for good." Patch finally explains, turning to Skielstregar with an odd glance. "I can't imagine what you went through, and I am not judging you for your circumstance. I'm just glad you don't use your magics like the thing I encountered did." she admits. "I had half thought you were going to kill that little jerk for his lunacy."

Skielstregar shifts awkwardly on his feet. "... erm. Thisss one isss sorry to make you uncomfortable. There wass, and still isss some, madnesss at timess," he tries to answer. "What they were going to do would have done nothing more than shock the sssoftsskin for a time, nothing more."

He folds his hands together, him sitting on his haunches so he's not towering over Patch. There's another long pause, this time on his part. "... thisss one thought it isss pure evil. It isss ssstill a part of thisss one that thisss one hasss to accept."

He looks to Patch. "Thisss one ussed to be a Sssunblade. Asss.... much asss the other part of thisss one was vying to do it, they are the bigger dragon, ssso to ssspeak. They won't kill a defensssless perssson. Or beat them."

"... a wizard told thisss one once that necromancy isss just a school of magic. It isss how you use it that mattersss most."

"Oh, a witch once told me the same. More, she explained why knowing such things is important." Patch admits, a small smile flashed to Skielstregar. "I don't really fear you, if that makes you feel better? I am more coming to terms that there are phenomena that we need to try and understand." she reasons, stooping to pick up the boot.

Turning back to Skielstregar, she somewhat holds up her work for him to see. The pleated bow of leather that is interwoven atop the laces for decoration being what's shown. "I try to balance the darkness with cute things. Or jokes, and song." showing her outlet and creativity, but following it with blunt words. "I didn't mean to imply you're a monster. I think the monster is those who did this to you."

"I don't have much to say of this evil you have to accept. Not the kind of demons I battle." Patch offers, lowering the boot with a shrug. "But, I didn't see much evil in anything you did. Despite it looking suspicious." this tease coming with a wink as she tosses the boot back towards her spot. "What is it you're searching for these days? Why adventuring?"

Skielstregar bobs his head, smiling some. "Thiss one isss glad to hear you do not fear them. Sssome time ago, people did quite often, and they are glad othersss enjoy their company."

He leans down to peer at the offered leather. "Ah. Thisss isss good," he rumbles warmly. "It looksss nice." But there's a blink. "Ah. No. Thiss one iss not a monssster," he nods affirmingly, firm on that. Almost as if he was reassuring himself of that fact. "Charn and vile Deatheater cultistsss more than likely. But they have no proof of the latter."

He looks a bit confused at the wink, but it catches up to him. "Ah! Haha. Yesss. Erm, when thisss one getsss like that, jussst.... remember, asss bad asss it looks, thisss one isss under control."

The question gets him to ponder. But soon after, an answer comes easily, "There isss a number of thingsss that thisss one doing." He counts on his fingers, "Mictlan isss their home, they keep it sssafe. A Warrior caste'sss duty is to keep the tribe sssafe. Another isss to continue to aid people. Thisss one may not be a Sunblade anymore, they ssstill live in the Dragonfather'sss shadow. There isss evil afoot, and thisss one would rather turn what they have against it. And, thisss one's Chiuaa, life mate, Vaera, givesss them much fire to be themssselves," he grins.

He glances to his halberd. "And, thisss one'sss weapon actsss weird. Finding out what isss going on with it isss an ongoing process. What of you? Why adventuring?"

"There is evil afoot, you are right." Patch confirms, her smile broadening as she listens to Skielstregar speak of his purpose, and mate. When he speaks of the weapon, her glance falters in thought. "Your weapon acts on its own? I had thought the weirdness of it... controlled." she admits, this puzzling her perception of something.

"I wish you hadn't asked me that question in return. I should of known better, though. I'm just looking, Skielstregar. In order to help others, I need to be able to see things I can fix with my own eyes. I adventure to uncover, discover, and help those I can, as I come across them. No more, no less." she offers in answer, seeming to be disappointed with her own words. "Sometimes it is busting crazy wizards. Other times it means facing evil to its face. True evil. Not the discount kind." seeming to have a line between shenanigans, and irredeemable.

Skielstregar looks to his halberd. The shining glaive glimmers gently, runes softly thrumming across the blade. "Malefic," he gestures to the weapon. "hasss of a mind of their own. A mind that thisss one isss trying to figure out. They do not think they are evil. Jussst.... they wisssh to talk but have no mouth to do ssso? Or handsss, or... anything."

He laughs. "Sssuch quessstionss tend to get turned around, no? Neverthelesss, that iss good. Ssshamansss and Lore-keepersss important in Makari culture. We mussst know what came before, and what isss wissse and what isss for foolsss."

He bows his head. "Yesss, thisss one knowss of sssuch true evilsss. Your, erm, interview with thisss one wasss over sssuch thignsss."

"Artistic expression? Perhaps dance?" Patch muses, though something in her tone does seem to take Skielstregar seriously. "Sometimes it is not 'talking', as it is a reach to be acknowledged. Perhaps not in the case of your blade, but I understand what you try and explain. I have encountered several things that felt alive, but didn't speak."

"Oh, I was speaking of a different one. One I feel is war, this one I am looking at now is more... unbridled malice, spurned from loneliness." Patch answers honestly. "Whispers of many things often grace my ears. The circles I walk in are a bit more complex than the drinking, and fun would have many believe. There is the show, and then there is the preparations that go into it. Not everyone likes to peek behind the curtain. But, that's where I live." she explains, suddenly pausing in her words.

"I don't know if that translates well into Makari, but I think of myself as a secret and lore keeper. So, perhaps it does."

Skiel chuffs, a rumbling in his chest at that. "Thiss one thinkss if Malefic dancesss, it would knock thisss one upon the head," he grins, glance to the weapon.

The halberd does nothing.

The silverscale listens. For as much of a muscle head as he seems to be, he sure knows when its best to pay attention. "Ah. Thisss one ssseeesss. There isss a lot to do in preparation. For asss much fighting asss thisss one doess, there isss a lot of preperation that goes into it."

His eyes squint in amusement. "Lore Keeper Patch," he grins. "It transsslatesss. There are many that need to keep and learn information for the People. Thisss one reliesss on sssuch Keepersss, asss they are not that bright."

He glances down to his arms, shiny and sparkly. A snort. "... you know what thisss one meansss."

"Trust me, Skielstregar. You shine enough. Enough that I would ask your help if needed." Patch says, her smile faltering. It's warm words, but something the Makari said seems to have caused a change in her posture. An ear droops a bit cocked as she regards the Makari, her smile fully fading into a thin line.

"Never have I once thought of you as not bright. Different, or slow in some regards that us softskins value too much." she admits, shrugging. "But I have only ever heard you speak wisdoms, and ask important questions." her hands rising to undo the back of her smock, and take her tools from about her. "I wouldn't even call you simple. I saw you think of the crowd, and work on behalf of others. Whoever made you feel stupid, was an asshole." a snort and laugh following it as she begins to collect her things.

"She does this every time." Luthor says, having sat quietly at his cart. "What? We'll talk stitches next week?" he teases of Patch, her flat glance soon fixating on the crafter.

"It's true, but it's not like I'm not honest about my work. And, no. I'll listen this time. I'll finish it with flat stitches." Patch says, turning back to Skielstregar with an apologetic smile.

"Apologies. Maybe another time we can meet at the Hall, and talk over some drinks. There is a lot that needs a blade, and even the bult words." Patch says, her smile finally returning.

Skielstregar holds up his hands as Patch gets more serious, him laughing, "Now now, Lore Keeper Patch, thisss one knowsss their worth! They have wisssdom yess, but booksss and knowledge of the learned? Thisss one isss none too good with! They shine in other waysss! None hass called them ssstupid."

A sigh leaves him, but the smile stays. "Of courssse thisss one thought of the crowd. A Warrior protectsss!" he grins, hands on his hips. Malefic stands up on their own.

He looks to Luthor, chuffs. "Bah. Thisss one apologizes for ssstealing the Lore Keeper."

"Very well!" he hums warmly. "Thiss one will take you up on that offer. Peassse on your nessstsss you two!"

Malefic sloowly starts to lean one way. But stops, unnaturally held up. Skiel glances to it. "... hrm? What is it?"

Following the weapon, there's a glassware wagon passing by. "... oh! Good spot! Quickly now!" He scoops up the weapon and jogs after it.

-End Scene-