Catching Up, Part 1

It is obnoxiously early in the day. The sort of time that most sane people are still tucked asleep in bed. The sun has only just started peeking over the horizon and only the very earliest of merchants and workers have even thought about starting their day.

However, Rune is awake, dark circles under her eyes as she sits just outside the entrance to the Fernwood Inn. She is sitting at a table which is normally used for serving people who like sitting outdoors. However, rather than food, there is just a cup of tea set before her, and a number of weapons laid out.

Frankly, it might look a bit impressive. There are a total of four swords and two daggers, and the rogue seems to be cleaning each one in a ritualistic fashion. However, this is interrupted by a yawn now and again. Why in the world is anyone up this early in the morning and is choosing /now/ to clean their weapons?

"Mind if I join?"

The casual request is given in the cool, musical tones of the Llyranesi woman that may or may not be haunting Rune. "I thought about what you told me," she says carefully, the lining of her ivory silk shell, compressing the already narrow beams of sunlight, seems to float. "And... I would have asked what you thought about what I also told you at my soiree." A hesitant smile. "Which I am infinitely grateful you came to, by the way. Yourself and Hark, you have become very friendly familiar faces.

"Finally, I have eleven brothers. Eleven," She emphasizes, leaning in. "I do not mind the cleaning of weaponry at the table, but I draw the line at picking teeth with said weaponry."

The voice sounding against the quiet of the morning has Rune looking up, her hand stilling as she runs a rag across one of the more elaborate looking weapons. The blade has onyx pieces in the handle and delicate black effects along the blade. "Oh. Good morning." It's as if she didn't really hear the question, but proper social interaction deems that she motion her head at the seat across from her in invitation, regardless.

Finishing the cleaning of the blade, it is slid into a scabbard and then set down as Rune plucks up her tea and takes a sip as if trying to wake up enough to actually interact. "I think your invitation surprised Harkashan. As a death-singer, he's not very used to social events that don't involve burying someone's relatives." She smirks slightly, "But you're welcome, none the less."

Then, after a pause, picking a weapon which seems to be a darker color, as if the metal were a rougher material, she speaks again, "My father worked extensively with your family. I think I attended a few events as his assistant, but that was a lifetime ago." Rune was likely still a teenager at the time, not yet even fully grown. Her father had taken her everywhere, as if every social gathering was a 'training' opportunity.

With a soft, half-laugh, Rune pours a bit of oil onto the rag and starts cleaning down the sword, "I've got a little more social grace than that, trust me."

Tossing a linen throw against the chair so that it may drape in the breeze, Asphodel seats herself, pulls the chair in, and settles back comfortably. "My Family is unusual. The Carroughs may as well be professional courtiers. And to your point, we did see a lot of Archivist..." She catches herself, and smoothly continues. "Him, and... Stars above, Rune, I remember you but I am far more afraid of what you must remember of me. I wasn't even one century old," She says, in the same tone as people say 'I found a farthing'. "But you are not the only one who left because they needed a change. In fact, it was your father who recorded the king's orders, and officially entered them into the records, that made me Lady Carrough," She muses, even though no strong emotion rises to the top. "And I thought, I may well be the worst person in the world to try and make right with you. Or just be friends."

Rune's hand pauses, followed by a slight press of her lips together as she shakes her head, "You can say his name." A soft laugh that doesn't reach her eyes follows, "Caeles Miranore isn't a bad man by any stretch of the imagination. Some might even argue that he was good father with a troubled daughter." Her lip quirks, "I just see things a bit differently."

Setting the blade down, Rune leans forward a bit. "I'm quite a different person now, than I was back then." Visually, she is very different. The dyed tips of her hair, the tattoo visible down her right side, even her general posture and way of speaking is no longer the formal, trained ways of a court emissary.

There is an amused look, though, at the Sildanyari woman's words. "You know, not all people live to see a century." She adds, "I've lived among the Makari for years, and that's strange enough when they can live upwards of four-hundred years. Among the Sildanyari? You get a little tired of being seen as a novelty for dying."

The rough-hewn blade is the next to be placed away in the scabbard, delicate hands careful with the weapon which looks to have only gotten minimal use. "There's really not anything to 'make right'. Living among Sildanyari was never easy, and my father certainly couldn't grasp why I wouldn't wish to follow in his footsteps, but no one did anything directly to hurt me, least of all you." She waves a hand at the concern.

Death as novelty has Asphodel genuinely laughing, a hand raised to delicately hide a smile. There are things only Rune would know to look for, the social and personal habits of the elves. "I actually forgot that," She says, genuinely trying to at least sound regretful. "Besides, I've a feeling that in this city it's never a great social position in which to be an elf-- half or otherwise. But I did not come here to talk about your father," She says, leaning forward at the waist to place the soft-skinned palm of her right hand on the table. A gesture of sincerity.

"There is a hurt in your eyes, and I see it in Cor'lana's too. As if you have been bitten once and will never trust again. Besides, you seem like you've done a wonderful job to me. With me in the background, you can safely live however you choose. They'll see the Llyanesi woman and nothing more."

"You'd be surprised." Rune tilts her head slightly, "There are a fair number of Sildanyari pure-bloods and half-bloods in positions of importance here." Her brows lift, "You've already found some in the Lord and Lady Lpecyll-Atlon."

The mention of hurt, though, that seems to have Rune taking things a fair bit slower. "Imagine you weren't born in the Mythwood. Imagine instead that you were born on the plains of the Vast, having to live among the Phurai Dae. You work so hard all your life to fit in. To do what everyone expects of you. But you know you'll never be one of them. You'll always stand appart."

Her lip quirks, "That's how it was for me, especialy with my father. I worked so hard to meet his expectations, but it was never what I wanted to be. Maybe that makes me a selfish, ungrateful child." Rune shrugs, "Or maybe sometimes people are meant to be on other paths."

Her expression softens a little, "I learned a long time ago that I have to be me. The courtly ways... they're just a mask I wear from time to time when I have to."

Warrick goes Out <O>.

Warrick has left.

When far away from pressing eyes, Asphodel retains the regal bearing of someone Listening. She does not interrupt, and her gaze is far more studious. Concerned, perhaps. "I cannot imagine that," She says finally. "Too much of my identity was determined by-- oh, you know better than any. That's really why I suppose I kept pestering you." Her expression turns thoughtful. "It's one thing to physically move, but it's another to be around people to whom customs need not be explained. I suppose I was seeking in you the very things you wanted to get away from, and that is what I wanted to apologize for," She finishes. "Although it is difficult now to be anything other than the Lady Carrough. What is a mere title to us indicates permanence to others. The Carrough Family are just the most willing and able to join different Houses as court politics demand. The only difference is that I never really knew my parents."

"I was raised in both worlds, Human and Sildanyari. The only problem was that after my mother passed, I lost one whole side of myself." Raising a hand to her mouth, Rune stiffles another yawn, then rubs at one eye. It's obvious that she hasn't been sleeping well, and it would explain why she is up at this ungodly hour. "Father couldn't see that I'm not just Sildanyari or Human, but a bit of both and I can't just forget one in favor of the other."

The smile that forms on her lips is gentle but genuine, "I don't want to escape what it is to be Sildanyari, not really." This time, when she laughs, there is amusement there, "It's just as much a part of me. So you don't have anything to appologize for. My life has always been about finding a balance. Who I am, what people want me to be, what people want /of/ me. It's imperfect, and it's messy, and I love it. Better than the alternatives."

There is a slight tightening at the edge of her mouth at that. "I don't know of any of us ever know our parents, not fully. I'm only just starting to scratch the surface of who my mother was. Though... I suppose I have my own thoughts on my father." Another of those self-deprecating laughs. "I suppose the real question is... what do /you/ want to be?"

"Damn straight," Asphodel says bluntly. "I still would have taken the trip, and the risk, even if you told me I would be kidnapped by cultists. As for what I want to be, I aim for the unattainable. I prefer unsolvable problems, and uncertainty; I like the vague space between with all its glorious shades of gray," She says, returning Rune's laughter. "I was not raised to be anything but what I am. I always have my goals," she says coyly, her gaze examining one of the servers and his biceps. "But I like activity and things happening around me. There are so many brilliant people like yourself, just waiting for the right opportunity.

"Some need money, others support or courage. I am trying to instill the Llyranesi 'I will walk into this room needing to prepare for nothing' attitude, but others find it off-putting. I am, I suppose, excited about the choices for change presented by the next opportunity. Once you've got style down, it's just a matter of presentation."

"Well, let's just try to make sure getting kidnapped by cultists is not a common occurance." Rune raises her eyebrows once more, "If we'd been a few minutes later, things could have gone very, very badly." Then, as if she found something funny, Rune laughs again, cupping her hands around her tea. "Then again, maybe that's just the Gods playing their games. Sent us to find you at just the right time. That would definitely be in the Sky-Singer's wheelhouse."

At that shift of Asphodel's eyes, she follows towards the server, then chuckles, "You really do have an appreciation for the aesthetically pleasing, don't you?" Rune is not immune to a good looking individual, herself, mind you.

"I'd love to believe myself prepared for anything, but I know that's a foolish assumption. The way things are around here, strange occurrences seem to come one day to the next and there's no way to be certain or ready for whatever might come." Her hand motions to the weapons laid out, "Best we can do is prepare. Though, if I recall, your preparations are more of a magical sort."

"Aesthetics in general, for they do not tolerate discrimination. If someone thinks they are better than another, they're delusional and probably missing out on good sex," Asphodel concludes. "And if you hadn't come along, heaven only knows! And besides, you are right: there is more to life than the aesthetically pleasing AND I would not like kidnapping to be a common occurence," She agrees, her courtier tones nearly at a purr.

"So I need someone with weapons," her gaze flickers down to the well-cared for instruments, "and the know how to use them, to accompany me while I walk voluntarily into what is most certainly an ambush-style trap for more information.

If her smile wavered, or if her tone changed, it may be less conspicuous.

"I hope you do not mind, but I wove a full set of linens, cotton sets, bedsheets, doilies," Her eyes roll counterclockwise as she counts off the list, "And metallic jacquard prints I think you will like." She blinks, list gone, and refocuses. "I did not mean to mention them both at once, but if you could please take the linens, I won't guilt-trip you into saving me from a situation of my own devising."

GAME: Rune rolls bluff: (3)+10: 13

GAME: Asphodel rolls sense motive: (10)+4: 14

Rune laughs at that statement, seeming more amused than anything else, "I wouldn't really know. It's never been a high priority for me." A hint of color forms on her freckled cheeks, suggesting that the half-sil may just be a bit more innocent in that regard than Asphodel. With nearly a century of age difference, that is likely little surprise. "My relationships have always been... complicated." She smirks.

Looking from the weapons back to Asphodel, Rune tilts her head, "So, just what sort of trouble would we be expecting? The usual sort, or the kind that requires packing cold iron or silver?" Her hand motions to the two more unusual looking blades. The one with the dull coloration must be cold iron, and the one with a brighter color than steel must be silver. "And is this something you want kept between us, or should I tell Harkashan that you're seeking his aid as well?"

The prospect of various linen and cloth materials is met with a slight widening of the eyes and surprise. "Well... we... I usually just stay at the inn." She /almost/ corrects herself in time, but it's obvious to Asphodel that Rune generally shares a room with someone else. "If you've made a set of casual wear or undergarments, though, I could make use of that. I've had the same sleeveless top and draw-string pants for a year now and they've certainly seen better days."

Raising a brow, though, Rune adds, "But you really don't have to bribe me. If we're meant to be friends, then helping each other is just something that you do."

"It isn't exactly a bribe," Asphodel says, leaning forward while searching with her hands through her canvas bag. "Platemail, like scales, is very rough on the threadcount of most bedding. I am a weaver. It actually wasn't much of a bribe, truth be told." The bolts of fabric set before Rune, however, tell a very different story: handwoven lace, in silk and linen, and full cotton towels. "As for what to expect?" She muses. A bolt of delicate blue fabric fluoresces with the nearly invisible orange and violet weft, weaving broken twill patterns that resemble leaves, vines, and falling water. "As for what to expect? I truly do not know. I really intend to go because it's potentially a nexus between two disturbing but related events, one of which you saved me from."

Rune draws her weapons back across the table, making some room for Asphodel in the process. She starts to attach the two main blades to a leather holster which she usually wears across her back. The two more unusual weapons are simply stacked on a chair that is nearby for the moment. The rogue looks over the items offered out and laughs, "Most of this is way too fine. I already had to have Hark look for a place to stow those silks. They'd get absolutely destroyed on our usual travels and that would be terribly impolite."

"Well, it's not like we usually have to pay for the bedding at an inn, so that's kind of their problem." And then Rune seems to realize her mistake and gives up on the pretenses. "Hark sleeps on the bed, I sleep on the floor. I have pretty bad nightmares so I don't like sleeping alone if I can help it."

As Asphodel elaborates a bit, Rune seems thoughtful, "Well, the cultists seemed to be werewolves, so silver would be ideal against them. The cold iron is only really needed if we expect anything to do with the Fey."

Asphodel laughs, and laughs merrily. "You make that poor man sleep on the floor?" She enquires, her hands frozen mid-gesture before laughter bubbles up again. "I don't need to tell you that Hark is a good man. There aren't many; hold onto that one," she says, and for a moment, it's just two Sil women gossiping. Two elves gossiping over weapons, a kidnapping plan, and men.

"I wonder if that was what they asked for in exchange. To be able to take the form of a wolf. You would think a wizard would be cheaper than one's soul or the annoyance of hiding the bodies."

"No. /I/ sleep on the floor." Rune emphasizes this time, shaking her head. "And trust me, I know he's one of the good ones. He's been my best friend for years now." Propping her arms underneath herself a little, Rune leans forward. "It's also the reason I was the one to die back in Am'shere. I had the choice to let a spell take him or throw myself in the way. Still don't regret my choice." This bit of information might be new to Asphodel.

As Asphodel starts getting into the 'why' of the situation, there is a look around. Rune seems to be making sure no one else is close enough to overhear before she offers in a lower voice, "There's... a lot going on in the Felwood. I'm not sure if I understand all of it but the long and short seems to be that the werewolves are in league with demonic entities, and they may very well be trying to release some kind of being capable of threatening the Gods."

Her brows furrow. "Cor'lana can explain it way better than I can, but... she has a lot of emotions tied up in it, too. One of the wolves became obsessed with her, kidnapped Telamon, cursed him so he couldn't come near his wife..." Rune lets out a breath, then tucks a few strands of dyed hair behind one pointed ear. "They've resolved all of that, thank the gods. But it seems like the actions of the cultists are far from over."