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Post by EtherealNoire on Oct 28, 2017 14:45:08 GMT -8
Beneath her shuttered eyes the embers danced and shadows played, weaving a charm that alleviated some of her solemn fate. Yet not all faded beneath the oscillating darkness. Voices as soft but as insistent as the beating wings of angry moths pricked at her solitude, insatiable until she could bare the disturbance no longer. At last her gaze drifted from the fire to Tilly's face. Her auburn locks parted briefly as she moved to reveal her distant yet unwavering emerald eyes before shadows once again devoured them.
So... she had been discovered...
"The gift unnerves you... and rightfully so. Often evil deals in kindness."
Talea could sense the young woman's apprehension in every motion, painted thick in her nervous smile and the delicate key clutched between her pale fingers. It brought a bitter smile to her lips. How ignorant that she had assumed Tilly to be any viable threat. This woman, ripe as she was with child, was scarcely able to stand, let alone fight.
"Names are not a common trait amongst my people," she continued, circling Tilly with several decisive steps before drifting towards the door. "However you may call me Talea. And how truly unfortunate it is that some doors still house the illusion of keys, as if a lock can hold the night at bay."
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Post by Vanitypirate on Oct 28, 2017 21:08:42 GMT -8
She gave a light laugh, "Well, wouldn't it unnerve you?"
Tilly already had guessed the answer as she plunged the key into its respective hideyhole in the door.
It surely was no small feat to unnerve this phantom she'd invited into her home, this she who only spoke when summoned, who ghosted along on bare feet with a waist-length veil that wisped on after her.
Of course, Tilly was no stranger to phantoms.
Her words were bold, but they did not come from a place of bravado; they were spoken simply, as innocuous as one might comment on the state of the weather, and Tilly smiled and nodded all the while.
"You're quite right. Though, it's not the night I'm afraid of."
The door pulled outwardly open, and in its maw revealed a windowless staircase, wide enough for two well-shouldered fellows to comfortably walk abreast cobblestone at the base and capped with wooden flooring that matched smartly with the ribbon of railing that clung to the stone walls.
In a recess that hid away from the hearth, it was as dark and noiseless and still as a coffin.
"Hmm... 'Talea', then. Lovely name; I'll take care to remember it." She hummed, tucking the key into some patchwork pocket, lost in a sea of other mismatching fabric, just on the inside of her coat's collar. She dipped her head and smiled at the ghostly woman before presuming to take the lead up the stairs to the residential floor.
There was no small degree of silent pity for her poor knees.
"But, I wonder, where you'd gotten that name from, if not from one of your own people? Seeing as your lot don't take too much to names..." She queried, almost out of habit. Perhaps it was another quality of Lekalis's that rubbed off on her...
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Post by azmoham on Oct 29, 2017 17:40:32 GMT -8
"Vulgarity is hardly something you should be worried about around me. In case the sword and the flask weren't obvious tip-offs enough."
She barked a laugh, gesturing to the bastard sword which leaned against her arm rest, currently unclipped from her belt as to allow her to recline in the seat.
"And as for the hair, well, its not exactly a style-choice. If you spend enough time nearly-dying you start to get a little unconcerned with the fine details of personal grooming."
This could only be said to be a half-truth given that apparently her days of nearly-dying were past, given way to complacency and uneasy death-like peace. This if anything strengthened her resolve to be ignorant of fine-grooming details, as if to prove that she were still above the humdrum tasks that many were occupied with, much to Jacques' displeasure.
"I'm hardly anyone to consult on matters of good taste, I think my artistic sensibilities start at the pommel and end at the tip of this sword."
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Post by relentless on Oct 29, 2017 18:30:08 GMT -8
Dufay ran her hand across the armrest, mixing inbetween the grooves and dips of the leather. Pale tipped fingers danced around the edge of the armrest, smoothing their way around in a bored dance as she listened to Lavinia speak.
"Well hey! That poker of yours gives you more... definition!"
Dufay replied, gesturing a flex of her hand toward her unclipped bastard sword, before returning it to the armrest.
"So no fancy smancy fluffing up then ey? Meh, respectable in a way. I'm like... in the middle! The perfect balance, I would boldly say."
Dufay poked in with confidence and credibility.
"If you ask me, I'd rather go back to serving drinks than look like a doll. Y'know,I bet they put some weird stuff in all that 'noble' perfume my brother uses."
Dufay rambled on as she rode the wave of the conversation, rubbing her eyes as a sensation of calm began to make her tired, letting her fingers droop away to continue.
"Now if my Brother, Nick, Nickel or whatever you want to call him finds yah... don't tell him that his perfume smells like a bums armpit, he gets all defensive... in an adorable way though!"
Dufay giggled briefly, sighing happily after she was done, flexing her hands around.
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Post by EtherealNoire on Oct 30, 2017 17:09:08 GMT -8
She gave a light laugh, "Well, wouldn't it unnerve you?"
Tilly already had guessed the answer as she plunged the key into its respective hideyhole in the door.
It surely was no small feat to unnerve this phantom she'd invited into her home, this she who only spoke when summoned, who ghosted along on bare feet with a waist-length veil that wisped on after her.
Of course, Tilly was no stranger to phantoms.
Her words were bold, but they did not come from a place of bravado; they were spoken simply, as innocuous as one might comment on the state of the weather, and Tilly smiled and nodded all the while.
"You're quite right. Though, it's not the night I'm afraid of."
The door pulled outwardly open, and in its maw revealed a windowless staircase, wide enough for two well-shouldered fellows to comfortably walk abreast cobblestone at the base and capped with wooden flooring that matched smartly with the ribbon of railing that clung to the stone walls.
In a recess that hid away from the hearth, it was as dark and noiseless and still as a coffin.
"Hmm... 'Talea', then. Lovely name; I'll take care to remember it." She hummed, tucking the key into some patchwork pocket, lost in a sea of other mismatching fabric, just on the inside of her coat's collar. She dipped her head and smiled at the ghostly woman before presuming to take the lead up the stairs to the residential floor.
There was no small degree of silent pity for her poor knees.
"But, I wonder, where you'd gotten that name from, if not from one of your own people? Seeing as your lot don't take too much to names..." She queried, almost out of habit. Perhaps it was another quality of Lekalis's that rubbed off on her...
Her fingers meandered the shadows as she thought, catching on air as if clawing away spiderwebs. And as they rounded yet another spiral, she paused, a question dangling before her outstretched hand. Why was this woman irrationally insistent about pleasantries?
"You..." Her tongue paused, tasting the words. "favor companionship? Is that not dangerously vulnerable?"
Certainly desiring the company of others welcomed those of darker intent. Malice haunted the hospitable and their warm hearths most of all. How often had its murky breath clung to her own throat before? Talea could still sense the knife playing across her skin.
"I would caution such behavior. Especially for the sake of your child." |
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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 2, 2017 17:05:41 GMT -8
The stair was dark, but not blindingly so. Tilly navigated the night-cast steps with confidence, even more-so after her eyes had adjusted, one lazy hand drifting along the rail like the fallen leaves outside might glance along the cobbles, ghosting along and resting at times, but never for too long.
What an odd spirit that was following her, so thought the good ex-robber as she listened to her flowery verse. Some petty component of herself, for once, was quite grateful that Lekalis was out and about; she knew that he would be terribly fond of the woman's diction. And who could blame him?
Luckily for Tilly, here Talea was, seeming to tolerate her well enough, and certainly not as timid as Tilly had initially pegged her to be.
"D'you think I'd be less vulnerable on my lonesome?" She poised, throwing a half-amused glance over her shoulder at her. Though, she was more delighted in having someone to accompany her, especially willingly, and to make pleasant conversation.
"I'm flattered."
The upper floor was smaller, and the landing was almost a touch claustrophobic with the wooden crates, brimming with soaps and brushes and pots and pans, sat in the halls. Two doors were opposite one another on the left- and right-hand sides of the top step, and down the hall was an alcove and a humbly-sized hearth, which housed in its belly two unlit logs, one propped up against the other. Two chairs, with hardly enough space to sit out, were pushed up against a roughly square-shaped teatable. A blueish, floral tablecloth was draped over its surface.
"'Sides, I've had enough of being lonely. Had enough of it to last me a lifetime." Tilly stood atop the landing, hand on the doorknob to the leftmost of the doors, allowing some reprieve for her back, but also to wait for her compatriot.
"You'd know, too, wouldn't you? You wouldn't have come along if you weren't looking for companionship."
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Post by EtherealNoire on Nov 4, 2017 16:53:54 GMT -8
The shadowed hallway, gorged with its feast of trinkets, welcomed Talea like a roaring fire would welcome any sane mortal. She ascended the last step, allowing her tension to dissolve into a solace she had not felt since the prior night spent prowling gravestones. Talea allowed herself a small sigh of relief.
A chill presided within the air and it carried a refreshing wave of clarity, one she had desperately sought after her excursion amongst the other guests. The silence of the night and the stillness of the graves were missed, and her heart shook when she acknowledged how much time she must remain within the bones of Tilly's house. Nevertheless, there was some truth clinging to Tilly's words.
Indeed, her actions had betrayed her.
Although companionship bore razor fangs and the devil's smile, its allure far outweighed its deception, and she could not fight the desire to break away from solitude.
"Solitude is the hound of Death. In the night, it marks us all, and although it is no stranger to me, I wish to grow more intimate with its demise than its fellowship. That is the reason I traveled here. I know well what it means to die; I seek to know what it means to live."
Was that sorrow lurking beneath Tilly's lighthearted facade? Certainly, she spoke with the gravity of one who had experienced great suffering.
The solemn weight pressed against Talea's thoughts.
"The world weighs heavily on you now..."
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Nov 8, 2017 10:39:15 GMT -8
Ellie knocked on the door of Tilly's home, seeing that two people had already come but been rejected, she hoped she didn't read the wrong date on the invitation.
"Hello?" She called, hoping some would open the door.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 8, 2017 22:00:51 GMT -8
Tilly's hand faltered and lingered on the door handle, giving some measure and pause to the words which waxed almost amusingly elegiac; she never imagined anyone would speak in verse and metaphors outside of the poems she scarcely read as a child, though it was pleasant to the ears.
What was even more curious, then, was the tendency of her compatriots to fall on either two extremes of the spectrum of prose-- that is, having words articulated to a fine and flowery point, or terribly blunt.
She narrowed her murkish eyes, keenly latching onto what she thought might be a trace of pity, then subsequently and childishly casting it away.
"It does," She quickly agreed with a half-serious bravado, "but I wear it well," turning as she pushed the door inward, into the next room.
It would seem, as a whole, that the upper half of the house was constructed with a great deal more care than the ground floor. The room was cuboidal in shape, with an ample enough space to not be either too drafty or too cramped. The walls were plaster and lined with supportive, wooden beams.
The bed, centered up against the far wall of the room, was fashioned out of a richly-hued wood reminiscent of walnut. The bedcovers dripped down onto the floor, their scarlet shade made into something more wine-like by the argent moonlight that flooded in through uncurtained windows.
A door, in the corner of the room, lead outwards to a balcony overlooking a small cliff.
There were some dressers, and a dressing table in one corner of the room.
A rack stood beside it, waist-high, where a pickaxe and a longsword were properly righted. A bandolier of knives was draped haphazardly over the upper beam of the rack, though some of the pockets were bereft of their knives.
Indeed, the rack did seem a touch empty; one might presume that the other half of its share had been taken up for business by Tilly's husband.
Beside the bed, towards the head of it, was an infant's cot, with crossed legs and rounded feet so that it might be used to lull a child to sleep. Folded inside its belly was a blanket, child-sized, checkered with a glossy, red, silken fabric and a coarser, weathered, dull blue fabric that seemed near identical to the patched cloth at the tail of Tilly's coat.
Box in hand, Tilly made for one of the windows beside the dresser.
"You've picked an odd place to go and live, y'know. Most folks around here have a nasty habit of... well, dying." She informed her with a shrug, as if she did not already know.
Though, she poked on, if only out of a simple delight in having a friendly body to freely answer her proddings.
"So, then, what're you hoping to find in all this?" She asked, busying herself with the window and propping it half-open.
She gave another pause to cast an idle glance over her shoulder as she asked, in kind,
"What would you like living to be like?"
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