For Want of a Name

Log Info

• Title: For Want of a Name
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Venom
• Place: Markets
• Time: January 9th, 2023
• Summary: Aryia is outside working on some cider and some legal papers as Venom swoops by to catch up, the latter having recently returned from Myr. They show off some things they purchased before assisting Aryia with a conundrum: figuring out a name. Suggestions and shot back and forth before something sticks.

Markets, Midday.

It's an overcast, grey-black sky, blotting out the sun and making the mana lamps turn on a half dozen hours earlier than normal. The markets are a dull buzz of busy, where the latent weather is allowing for a brief reprieve to get errands done.

Sitting outside at one of the many resturants with a warm drink steaming in a cup beside her is that of a mul'neissa woman with a pair of shades atop her white-haired head. A green buckle jacket is fastened tight, while a pen scribbles across a sheaf of papers strewn out on the table. She gets to one section of the page, frowns, shakes her head and flips to the next page to continue writing.

In time, the background din of business varies in subtle, almost inaudible ways as a shadowy spectre makes it's way through the throng.

With the same, nearly ghostly footfalls, the shrouded shape draws up near the Mul's table.

Venom's equipment has gained new signs of wear during her times 'at task', and the veiled head cants before her gloved hand lifts from the folds of her poncho to wave.

A long, silver clad ear flicks as someone approaches, the mute glancing up briefly before doing a double take and sitting upright. She smiles, then waves back before gesturing to the empty seat across from her. "Hello Venom," she signs. "What are you up to, today?" <Handspeech>

Venom steps closer to the table and her hands fold, flick and twist through the motions of, "There was a guild job in Myr. Along the way, we encountered some salvers."

There is a moment's pause, the slight pivot of the veiled head to either side, then, one hand vanishes beneath the poncho.

It emerges some seconds later closed in a loose fist before rolling over at the wrist and opening to expose two gold, rune etched rings of slightly different dimensions and states of abuse.

What she had once called, 'Zhaf-sic-heyan', some of the artifice that made her particular type of weapons work, are then tucked back under the poncho, likely within the ensorcelled expanses of her pack.

"I just got back. Can I join you?" <handspeech>

Aryia raises a brow at that. "Encountered that kind of people in Myr? That's... really weird," she signs, eyeing the rings. She tilts her head. "Did your weapons break? Or did you find some parts for them?"

To answer that question, a blue booted foot kicks at the chair across from her, scooting it out for Venom. There's a pointed, lingering look at the worn parts of Venom's getup, but she just signs, "I'm glad you're alright. Yes, you can join me. I'm just trying to figure out paperwork for something." <Handspeech>

The shrouded one settles in after a little bow, but it takes her a second or two of stillness before she frames her reply, "Not mine." another pause, then, "The salver found them with some assorted bits while they were roaming. She didn't note where she found them."

She shrugs, then, "I bought them, along with other bits to obscure any special interest."

She signs, "You look well. Is this..." 'this' indicated with a gesture toward the paperwork, "Something I can help you with?" <handspeech>

Something seems to click in Aryia's head as she makes a little 'o' with her mouth. "I see. Good purchase. Looking to make another one of those things?"

She looks down to her papers. Lets out a long, languid sigh, then flumps forward until her forehead >thuds< against the table. "I fucking hate paperwork."

The mute sits back upright, a page stuck to her face. She blows it off with a huff of air. "I could use your help, yes. I think I have all the paperwork needed except for like, one thing." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I need a name."

Aryia looks to Venom. "I want to make a group that does what you and I do. All the other groups I've found that does what we can do is this like... sort of doctrine that rigidly adheres to the interests of various churches. But none that just promote and teach... well. Being yourself? If that makes sense? Like, trusting in yourself and surpassing the limits of what your body can do, on your own terms. I don't think I'm making much sense," her hands ramble. "I've been stuck on a fucking name for months." <Handspeech>

"Maybe." Venom returns with a quick gesture.

She reaches out to try and catch the dislodged paper when Aryia's explanation diverts her attention. Taking some seconds to parse the dynamics of what she's laid forth, she settles back into her own seat.

Hmm.

"What kind of names have you considered already?" she asks. <handspeech>

The question garners a touch of rubor to dash across the mul'neissa's face. A sigh escapes her as she fishes out a journal from her pocket, opens it to a page, and slides it across the table to Venom.

Across the pages is a lot of crossed out words and scribbles. Including but not limited to:

'Order of the Perfect Self'

'Order of the Vagabond'

'Way of the Selfish Fist'

'Way of the Unfettered Soul'

Order of the Mortal Coil'

'Way of the fuck this fucking piece of sh- *Scribbles scribbles scribbles*'

Seems to be a mix of group names and method names.

Venom's head cocks after she takes up the journal for the requisite perusal, a short huff ruffles her veils, no doubt from one prospective name in particular, then she slides it back to it's proper owner.

She leans forward a bit and a hand dips under her poncho to produce her own writing materials.

Scribble-scribble-scratch. Scribble.... scribble-scribble.....

Aryia takes her journal back, idly looking down at the pages. She flips through them, reminiscing on the names. More of them flash by:

'Order of the Godless Pugilists'

'Way of the Stalwart Self'

'Order of the fuckers that can name shit'

'Way of the aaaaaaaaaaa'

Scribble scribble scratching catch's the mute's attention, her stopping her perusing to lean over the table a bit to see what Venom was writing.

A similar array of names seems to be laid out on Venom's page, scribed in her typical, technically crisp penmanship.

Stuff like:

Personal Alignment

Way of Refinement

Path of Inner Temper

The Order of the Crucible

Hone Sweet Hone (she's clearly been reading more Crimson Pen)

Way of the Refined Hue

She cocks her head a little and looks up to note Aryia trying to see what she's written and she rotates the list to a better orientation and slides it her way.

Aryia offers a thankful nod as she scoops up the list to take a gander.

Her brows furrow. One quirks. Lips silently move to get a mouth feel for each name. Well, except for one, it gets a squint and a silent snort.

She reclaims her journal, turns it around, and jots down a couple of notes.

Path of Inner Temper

The Order of the Crucible

Venom's list is handed back to them. "I... think you may have solved my problem, Venom," she signs, a slow grin spreading across her face. "These are really good suggestions. I may actually end up using these. Need to sleep on it. Thank you." <Handspeech>

Venom watches the mute in silence as she considers her list of suggestions, perhaps noting the motion of lips unbacked by sound.

Unreadable as ever by the layman, she accepts the list and just as quietly returns the matter to the confines of her pack.

Her hands come palms together and her veiled head dips in a nod before she starts to sign in reply, "You're very welcome. I'm glad to help."

A pause, then, "Anything else happening lately?" <handspeech>

Aryia gathers the sheaf of papers on the table, getting them in a bundle before carefully folding them as an eye watches the signs. Question poised, she lightly sighs, affording a moment to put the legal papers away in her jacket and to take a drink of the now cooled mug of cider.

Mug clanks softly against the table. "xgI can't say much out here, but my sister and I have some loose ends to tie up. Setting bait to spring a trap. Hopefully it will go smoothly, and I can focus on this," she taps her jacket where she put the papers. "Aside from that..? Not much else. There's always some bullshit going on, but I think I've reached the point where I mostly just want to relax and do my own thing, you know?" <Handspeech>

Absorption of Aryia's update takes some moments, as things that ought to have happened since her sister's liberation haven't occurred as intended.

An oversight.

Ideally not an irrevocable one, though, still, the deficit remains.

Venom nods at last, and her hands cycle through the communicative routine, "I hope it works out well. If you need help, you know where to find me." <handspeech>

"I hope so as well, but at this point, with everything sister and I have gone through, I think it will go well. And... thank you, I'll keep that in mind. Perhaps won't need direct aid, but when all is said and done, might need a hand there," Aryia signs, the last bit with her giving Venom a side glance before she rolls her shoulders.

"Would you like anything to eat or drink while you're here?" she asks, gesturing towards the restaurant proper. <Handspeech>

There are any number of things that could be riding the mesh of gears in that shrouded head of hers, and given the ever so subtle cant of her brow, or set of a shoulder, clearly Venom is proessing everthing in her way.

At the sidelong glance and suggestion she made be of some use, the shrouded one gives a thumb's up of assent, then, "That apple drink smells intersting. I wonder if they would fill a canteen?" <handspeech>

Aryia can't help but laugh, a silent, breathy thing. "I'm sure they won't care if you get a mug and toss it into a canteen. Come on, lets get you sorted," the mute offers, her standing up to go fetch one for her fellow mute. <Handspeech>

-End Scene-