The Nature of Dreams
Log Info
- Title: The Nature of Dreams
- Emitter: Verna
- Place: Society for Progressive Arcanists
- Summary: It's by fortune or practicality that sees Crik, Patch, Ravenstongue, Slixvah, and Verna meeting at the Arcanists' Society library. The group discusses dreams and snacks. Partway through, Mikilos enters. Eventually, almost all take their leave.
With all cold and wet (which is oft more chilling than colder and dry), indoors is the preferred location for activities. Fortunately, books also abhor the cold and damp, so keeping their company also makes for comfort. In terms of the climate, at the least.
Amidst the shelves and tables of the arcanist library, Verna has claimed one of the latter for herself, with various tomes from the former arrayed about her. Whilst there is no Lady Octagana warily overwatching, there remain other means to wards against rampant borrowing of materials, intentional or otherwise.
Patch is trying to do two things. One, get out of wet. Two? To research a few things in her free time. Her red coat has been taken from her shoulders, a sleeveless blouse of white worn as she gawks at the collections of tomes that rest along the different shelves. She takes her time, searching spines as her wet coat is kept well away from the vulnerable papers, folded and draped over one of her arms. She's not seen Verna, her mind and task on something else, not yet noticing the half-elven woman.
Amongst the shelves is that of a rail-thin half-oruch woman nearly swalloed completely in robes. A large pair of frame spectacles slide down her face as she gets up on her tip toes to reach for a book, only to get shoved further up her olive tinted nose.
Not-Slixvah takes down the book, adding it to the stack in her arms just as she almost runs into Patch. "O-Oh! I-I'm s-sorry," she stammers squeakily, attempting to side step the elf.
"Snacks?" comes a familiar voice--one that becomes louder as Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon ducks into the library, throwing the hood off her cloak. She sighs heavily now that she's in shelter... and somewhere that won't immediately hurl abuse at her on account of her profession.
"Yes, I know, Pothy, snacks, but we'll go to the dining hall /later/," she says. "I know you're always nostalgic when we come here--trust me, I certainly am, too, that bench is getting a visit later--but I /am/ here for a reason," Cor'lana reminds the bird as she makes her way further into the library.
Pothy looks dejected. He has to /wait/? "Snacks," he quietly opines.
A lonesome figure was standing by the corner, in a very nondescript looking robe with very average wearing pattern. Cared for, but slightly ragged around the edges. Lapels sewn over double, so it knocks off the snow well. It was all going well. That studying in quiet and silence. Roaming through tomes and books with careful finger, a studious eyes.
Then all the ruckus begins to happen. Spoken words, sounds. A deep breath is taken in.
"Snaaack-" A deep and reverbating bass voice breathes from the corner; and then abruptly stops. A moment later, the robed egalrin figure crouches down quite visibly.
The all-too familiar voice and favored word draw Verna's eyes up from her currently perused page. "There are snacks available here," she notes at respectful volume. Perhaps due to the corvid's disinclination to use a respectful volume. As well, it is a greeting of sorts to him and Cor'lana.
Patch pauses, looking at the Half-Oruch-Slix. Master of disguise that she is, Slixvah only gets a confused glance and handwave in response to the near bump. "No need to be. No fouling. Could of been worse. Could of actually touched me." a glance leveled on Slixvah as the elf fights to pinpoint something about that woman's eyes as she smiles. It's dismissed the moment Pothy is heard bellowing his people's call. The call for snacks! That, and the second voice accompanying it earns a puzzled expression and a quick glance about the library. "Did Pothy make a friend?" she asks, peering to seek Cor'lana and finding both her, and Verna. Bonus!
"Do they really allow snacks in here?" Patch asks, some intrigue creeping into her tone, making her presence known to the two. She didn't recognize Slix, the Egalrin woman winning even when she's not on her game. "Couldn't help but hear a familiar voice. Greetings, Sister. Mourner Verna."
GAME: Crik rolls disguise: (20)+7: 27 <OOC> Verna says, "There is no Crik." <OOC> Crik makes vague hand gestures.
Half-oruch-Slix sighs in relief, her adjusting her glasses. "C-Could have been, yes, I just didn't want to cause a p-problem in the s-s-stacks after all, haha..!" she nervously laughs off, attempting to side step Patch with a weak, one-tusked smile.
But the baying of snacks makes her whirl around, spying Cor'lana and- crouching movements? She looks across the way, scratching her head and looking about. "... w-what was that..?"
"Sister!" Cor'lana greets Patch with a hug, although she keeps her excitement down to a library-appropriate volume. "I think there are some treats for familiars like Pothy, but that's also never stopped him from stealing the stuff students eat outside."
She looks to the half-oruch and grins a little. "Hello, Matilda," she says. "As for what was /that/..."
The sorceress turns around and raises a brow in the direction of the extra 'Snaaack' vocalization. "I really, really hope that isn't you, Corpse-Eater, or you're surrounded by a few different spellcasters who could ruin your day. Mourner Verna included."
Pothy looks nervous. He whistles intently at Cor'lana, who sighs. "Right, I'm probably too on edge lately," she says.
"I may have some morsels on hand, if it means-WHAT?!" Verna's head snaps around towards Cor'lana, then to the direction she is addressing, even as her voice briefly lifts above typical library volume. A pause. A breath. "Is there cause for concern, Cor'lana?" she subsequently inquires in a more measured tone and level. There may be a special on apprehension this week.
The stranger in the corner lifts up his head. Well, slightly. He carries his hunched posture, as there is a bit shuffling about, until he turns around. A winding grey beard and a low hanging hood obscures the face of the figure. "I do not eat corpses." Most of the time; the less bassy but quite deep, yet oddly sagely voice responds. "And we are in the Society of Arcanists, are we not?" The litter of books he was carrying was held by a pair of dark hands, wrapped in bandages.
"And... there were snacks." Fingers roll across the backs of the tomes. Meanwhile, Crik is rattling his head rapidly to remember what he did to warrant a death sentence.
That hug form Cor'lana is returned as Patch looks to her a bit puzzled as it ends. "I can gather who Matilda is with inference, but what's a Corpse-Eater?" she asks of the two, turning her glance to Verna with a raised brow. Yes, that edge and tones noted until things seem to settle, seeking a chair and seat near Verna's table as Crik makes his presence known.
"Do I even want to know?" Patch asks, amused with the topics, but waving a hand. "Likely not. I should stick to pondering snacks with Pothy."
Matilda fidgets with her stack of books, giving a sheepish wave to Cor'lana before she tenses up from the latent, er, tensions. She watches the stranger with a beard and book wearily. "Um... yes, y-you are," she answers of them, stepping closer to the table. She's merely watching at present, seemingly unsure of what's unfolding.
Verna finally notes the emerging avian, causing both her expression and her posture to relax. "My apologies," she offers first to the egalrin and then turns to include all in the vicinity. "Yes, there are snacks." She sets a tin of cookies upon the table before she finally addresses Patch. "I presumed that Cor'lana refered to a specific individual which has occupied my thoughts as of late, but her words could be intended for someone, or something entirely different."
Cor'lana looks... more annoyed than anything with Crik. "Good," she says, simply. "My apologies, then."
She turns back to her friends and sighs. "And my apologies to all of you as well," she says. "It's... really nothing for anyone to worry about. Just a cousin of my dear ancestor who has decided it's his new life's mission to annoy Telamon and I. No, it is not the undead individual that a few of us here have had to deal with lately. One is a potentially dangerous pest and the other is a threat."
She looks to Patch. "I came here for more of a... personal interest besides that, anyway. I had a rather interesting experience with a dream walking potion the other night, and I wanted to read into the prophetic nature of dreams. In other words: is a dream a promise, or merely an indication of what might be?"
The robed figure tilts his head. Bobs it down. Then tilts it back. Finally, he tilts it the other way around towards Pothy, as if to ask what he did wrong. The robed figure was making a very distinct step towards the tin before the dreams are mentioned.
A sudden excited voice answers, "Some speculate it is the dreams that truly exist beyond the veil, and being awake is simply a bad retelling guided by what we call gods." A brief pause. "Or a function of the brain."
Another pause when Crik realizes he spoke too much and too quickly. Quickly, he snatches a cookie off the tin and backs away.
"I don't know much about dreams, Cor'lana. My mind is all about dragon bones at the moment." Patch admits, offering her sister a shrug. "I can go ask the Elunites, but they will likely just lecture how I should already know about it as it's my heritage." she muses dryly, casting a glance to Verna.
"Mourner Verna, or those just Pothy cookies?" Patch has to ask, the topics something she seems more keen to listen to than contribute against at the moment. No, her eyes are on a new prize. A Verna cookie. "So much research needs be done, but a break is always nice." her last glances darting between Matilda and Crik. Interesting day indeed.
Matilda stares at the robed figure for a moment overlong, blinking a few times behind those spectacles before she reaches up to adjust them. "Um... s... s-sometimes dreams can be both, or n-neither. It's really subjective. T-T-The layers of abstraction involved requires a c-c-certain amount of extrapolation to c-come to a more realistic c-conclusion," she babbles quietly.
Her throat bobs. "A-And, erm, well, if undead are involved, I-I am well and glad we have a Mourner h-here at present."
She bobs her head along with Patch. "T-The Elunites are very knowledgeable, b-but their abstraction is a b-bit... much s-s-s-sometimes."
A random student in a green robe passes by the stacks. Matilda snaps her gaze over to them, but in the process, stubs her toe on a chair. "Awh, motha' clucker," she drawls. So much for that disguise.
"I cannot accept that dreams are a promise of events to come," Verna notes, "else all would live with their every whim fulfilled... or be destroyed by their worst nightmwares." A gloved hand gestures to the tomes at her table. "I have relocated much of the section concerning the dreaming realm here, and you are welcome to peruse." The same hand then motions to the tin to answer Patch's inquiry. "They are for all. I baked them this past eve." The cookies are in artistic shapes, such as squares, triangles, or circles.
Pothy descends on the tin, of course, as Cor'lana looks contemplative, a finger going to her chin. "Well, it's curious, as this is a dream that I would actually rather like to come true," she explains. "At least... one portion of it."
A warm and fond smile finds Cor'lana's face. "It was a dream where I met three little girls," she explains. "They were named Nadina, Ariana, and Aryia--Nadina and Ariana for my mother and Telamon's mother, and Aryia for one of my oldest friends here in Alexandria--and they were my daughters with Telamon. It was a dream that... It was comforting, and almost so happy that it was like we were mourning them when we woke up."
Her gaze returns to her friends and to the Crik-acquiantance. "We agreed on not trying to see them again, lest we end up chasing the dream to the point that they never come real, but I'm... interested now, at least a little, in the divination of dreams."
The robed figure tilts his head towards the sudden cursing. Fast enough for the grey beard to get loose for a second. It is quickly swiped in place. Resist urge to hop over. There's a distinct crunch of a cookie and another, as the snacks are swallowed.
The hooded egalrin turns his head over towards Cor'lana instead, fabric fluttering about him. For some reason, he had a bit more intense quality to him. "Don't mourn for things from beyond," Not-Crik says, "Or they will come to mourn you." He stares for a moment. Then tilts his head down. Back up. A quick step forward and another cookie is stolen. "... it says so in the book."
"Is that like the void looking?" Patch asks of Crik. "Stare too long, and it stares back?" she muses, taking up two of Verna's cookies, placing one before Pothy, and then nibbling one herself.
"Such dreams are, interesting, but I would by lying if I said there was a meaning." an apologetic glance cast to Cor'lana. "I hope it's a premonition, but when I was telling you to have a bunch of kids, I was just joking." she reminds of her sister, laughing as some things seem to have come full circle. As is life.
"And, YOU!" Patch says, turning to Slixvah now that the cover is blown, popping the cookie into her mouth and chewing. "I had no idea. None at all." it's true. Slixvah's disguise fooling her, even when it was applied hastily.
Matilda sighs, rubbing her face. "Was doin' prett' good too," she groans, the timid tone dropping to a familiar, drawling silk. She shoots a tusked grin to Patch, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Fooled ya once mo'!" she coos cheekily. "Looks cute, don't it?"
The half-oruch woman looks to the tin of cookies offered, her stepping forth and taking of the triangle shaped ones. "Thankies." Monch.
Cor'lana is given a long, appraising look. "Tha's pretty cute, but I'm inclined ta agree wit' tha' book. Take heed to not stick your head in the clouds so far you lose footing with the ground. Pretty much all tha same advice here."
As noted, the cookies are free for the snacking. The only possibly caveat is that, as also noted, Verna baked them. The oruch that is not is revealed to be the better-known (to Verna) Slixvah, who receives a nod. Her attention is drawn back to Cor'lana when she expounds on her dreams, and a sliver of a smile creases her countenance. "That is a pleasant vision, and one you could readily make a reality."
Verna lowers her eyes, now, to the tome before her, though her attention remains divided. "I intend to explore further into dream-visions, myself. For the moment, however, I am most concerns of what entities exist in the Dreaming Realm," a pause before she adds, "and may have been released."
Cor'lana nods soberly to all the advice given. She snickers particularly at Patch's words. "Telamon and I do want to have a family one day, but the key phrase there is /one day/," she says. "That will wait until after Telamon and I are done adventuring. I have no intention right now of quitting when the world is the way it is now."
Her violet eyes sparkle a little in delight as she adds, "But I do suppose thinking of those little girls is all the more reason to do what I do. One of them had a brilliant mop of curly red hair and she was very darling. She kept calling Pothy 'Pothwee'."
Pothy looks up from the very artistic Verna cookies and whistles at Cor'lana. This gets some giggles out of her. "Apparently, that's how I used to say it when I was tiny. Maybe it runs in the family."
Crik turns his head towards Patch in turn for the void statement. "Why wait?" He asks in turn with a tilt of his head. He disappears into the background as other proceedings are going on, thumbing over his apparently very interesting book of youthful fiction, before Verna mentions the dream entities.
Just a moment later, the robed figure is sitting right near her, a very worn and patched up journal in one hand and a pen in the other.
Patch grins between Cor'lana and Slixvah as she finishes chewing. The conversation at hand amusing enough to warrant a second cookie as she looks to Crik. "Why? More favorable terms." she says, a bit puzzzled to what the breaded man asks, but answering still.
"I have some ideas to track and find our prophet again, but... I'll speak of it later." Patch assures, waving the worry off with a hand.
GAME: Slixvah rolls alertness: aliased to perception+2: (18)+12+2: 32
Matilda raises a brow at Verna. "And that, right there, is precisely why I'm as careful as can be wit' weird shtuff I fuss wit'," she mentions. "Lotta stuff exists there that is beyond our comprehension. There's reason why they exists /there/ and not /here/."
She looks to the robed figure. Sky blue eyes squinting behind the glasses. Down to the journal. The hands. Back up to the hood. "Crik. If you write any of this stuff down I'm gonna make sure ya wake up on the wrong side of the bed fo' the rest of ya life," she threatens with a happy chirp.
She looks to Patch, brows piqued in interest. "... oh do you? Damn, we got a lotta stuff getting talked 'bout later, eh?"
"Indeed," Verna concurs with the counter-comments to Crik on adventuring vs child-rearing. "Delves through dungeons deep or caverns old are not terribly conducive to tending toddlers, to say nothing of pregnancy beforehand." She does not look up from her reading. "If you seek notes on dream entities, it would be best that you transcribe yourself. I have, on the authority of numerous students, that my reading aloud has soporific effects."
Crik was entranced already. "The book itself causes disturbance of somnium?" Pen makes a spinning spectacle on those worn pages filled with various diagrams and indecipherable runes. And some receipts.
And then the robed figure tilts his head. The book's pages are snapped over to blank opening with just the two words of 'Dear diary,' written at top. A dark beak opens from under the robe - then closes. Opens again. Closes. "Wrong side of whose bed?" A pause. "Slixvah." Yes. Two can play at that game. Bird vs bird.
His hastily stuck on grey 'beard' falls down over his hands.
"Pretty much what they all said," Cor'lana remarks. "I'm also quite young myself. I want more life experience before Telamon and I start having children. Besides, having Pothy around /feels/ like having a child already."
Pothy looks up again from the tin, crumbs hanging off his beak. He whistles at her in a rather angry sounding fashion, and Cor'lana snickers. "You can't just say every single curse word you know to prove your maturity, Pothy," she says, before she turns back to Patch. "I would /love/ to discuss that 'prophet', later." She doesn't quite notice the bird vs bird disguise match.
Patch, however? She does see the bird-on-bird match, raising a brow as the two talk with a grin. She doesn't recognize Crik, but the exchange is still intriguing, if not puzzling.
"Sure, Sister." Patch says, waving off the topic for another time. "It's just got me in a bit of a mood is all." she admits, turning to watch Pothy stuff his face before Verna, a finger rising to poke playfully at a corvid-tummy. "That is a lot of cookies. He'd be unstoppable if left unchecked in the city, huh? Raiding carts and fingers a like I bet." she teases, letting the others speak of things as she plays.
Matilda squints at Crik, brows furrowing. "Your bird nest," she clarifies, unable to keep her scowl as the 'beard' falls off. She snorts, shaking her head. "Sensitive topics is all sometimes. It's poor faith ta pretend to write something down like that."
Her chuckling turns into a snickering fit at Verna. "Yeah? Throw in a bedtime story while lecturing, that'll be funny. But yea. I totally get that, Lana. Enjoy ya youth. And wait fo' more stable times."
The student's attention shifts to the magical bird. No, that bird, the smaller bird. "... hrm... I wonda. Have ya ever get some druids or the like ta conjure up a bunch of food for him ta snack on?" she queries, hopping off of Patch's line of thought.
A gloved hand reaches into the tin whilst Pothy is potentially distracted whistling to Cor'lana: a risk of nommed fingers for claim of cookie before all are consumed. It then disappears as Verna munches whilst further multi-tasking between reading, page-turning, and listening. "Intriguing."
"... pretend?" A ruffle of audible feathers as Crik straightens up. "It is called research." And then the worn journal is snapped shut, the tiny bits of papers in it stuffed in. With a smooth motion, the robed and be-gadgeted rogue falls off his chair and rapidly steps off into the halls of the Society. Without a sound. Just an odd hop, every now and then.
Cor'lana watches Crik walk away. "Odd bird, that one," she murmurs. "Really and truly rather odd."
She looks back to not-Slixvah and grins. "Well," she says, "we found recently that he does, in fact, get full on magically conjured food. He normally doesn't get full on eating normal food, but the conjured stuff will... eventually make him upchuck, because he has no ability to measure when to stop."
Then she just smiles sweetly at Pothy. "That's right, isn't it, Pothy?"
Pothy stops mid-snacking again. He hasn't claimed Verna's fingers as snacks yet, only the cookies. "No," he complains in Telamon's voice. Then, in Cor'lana's voice: "I can quit."
...
He goes right back to snacking.
"Sounds like some research to behold. Did you get metrics?" Patch muses, teasing Cor'lana and Pothy about this finding. "I don't think I would of." she says, sitting up in her seat. Her coat is held in her lap as she finishes her second cookies, while glancing back to Slixvah. "I'd ask you to explain, but I don't know if I really want to know. That's not the green boy, is it?" she asks, her tone suggesting that she's leaning towards not.
"I wish I could help more with this dream talk, but I don't know how to contribute." Patch openly admits, shrugging with a pondering tone. "It's a little out of my expertise."
Not-Slixvah shakes her head. "Really, really odd bird," she murmurs in agreement with Cor'lana before sighing and paying more attention to her answer. Then looks up in thought. "... sounds like a ghost, ya kno'? Normal stuff can't interact, but magic can. I wonda what else would happen if he ate magic stuff." A blink. "Oooh, what if ate a scroll?"
She just snorts at the white raven's antics.
Half-oruch-Slix leans against the table next to Patch, her shaking her head. "Not 'bout the green boy. That's more personal than anything. Just didn't want that bird writing down stuff if we talkin' 'bout weird prophets."
She rubs her face, slightly sighing. "I forgot I got a letter a couple of months ago. I read it last night. Part of it is my fault, I forgot to check in, but my brother is looking for me. Green boy. Problem is-" Her eyes roll back, "- he's the biggest, smothering, worry wort out of the entire bunch. Doesn't help that he's like, just as good as my dad at findin' folks."
Mikilos mutters darkly to himself as he wanders out of the deeper book stacks, a large tome before him and a stack of several more bobbing obediently behind him. The wizard doesn't look up from his reading, but with years of practice dodges around obsticals in his way, heading for the reading tables. Bookworm senses may stop him before hitting the table, but he still has to look which are occupied, peering around absently as if just remembering the outside world exists. Which might be exactly what happened.
"Dreams are the domain of Eluna and Hers," Verna notes from her perusing. "It is not a topic that most are well-versed with. Thus my study." A hand reaches back towards the tin, but instead of retrieving snacks, it dares absently stroke a finger along the white corvid's back. "There is related matter that you, and others, may be able to assist with, however."
Ohhhh. Pothy has received a petting. He throws his head back in bliss and makes happy corvid noises, encouraging Verna to keep doing just that.
Cor'lana, meanwhile, tilts her head at Slixvah. "Brother? Is that going to be a problem, Slixvah? I'm... fairly apt at dealing with unwanted family members at this point, perhaps better than any should be."
"So, a member of the large family has decided to check on you." Patch says with a grin, turning to look at Matilda as it even flashes a bit of tooth. "Well, under different circumstances I'd of liked to meet him. Still do." intrigue in the bard's tone.
"If I can be of any help, Verna. I'd like to be." Patch admits to the Mourner's question. She sighs, her smile faltering a bit before a hand rises to run through her short hair. "Might have a few tricks and strings to tug." she offers.
Pothy is where Patch's glance next falls, watching that little bird eat up the attention with a perked brow. Verna's affection bringing back her lost grin. "He's really full of something. I don't know if it's magic." her tone playful in her tease.
Not-Slixvah shakes her head at the questions. "Nothin' really much ta assist with. Just if I run inta ya guys, lemme know when and where you spot a tall, green egalrin, if ya do. It ain't trouble, but I don't wanna deal wit' that juuuuust yet. I already know how it's going to go down: I'm gonna get corraled, I'm gonna get hugged until my back pops in three places, then I'm gonna get a verbal talking and have ta answer twenty thousand questions. Tha's like, tha' one thing he got from my mom. Being a massive worry wort."
She looks to Patch, mouth half open to deny the assist. But she pauses. Ponders. "... actually... I... hrm. Ya might be privy to meet him. To at least suss out what he's doing. Right proper guy, at least."
She nods along to Verna with Patch's offer to assist. "Likewise here."
Further elaboration about Pothy is about to be extrapolated on, but her gaze falls on Mikilos stepping towards the table. Her expressive face evens out. "Miki," she nods in acknowledgement of his presence.
Mikilos glances over with a smile at Happy Corvid Noises(tm). "Hello Pothy, Col'lana. Patch, Verna, good to see both of you as well." The wizard nods greetings to each in turn.
Mikilos hesitates, and peers a moment at Not-Slixvah. "Greetings to you, Child-Of-The-Sunset." <yrch-speak>
Verna straightens up from her reading to look to Slivah the almost-orurch. "Concerned family members is a lesser annoyance than many alternatives, though I comiserate with familial obstacles, as well." She glances to Pothy, still indulging his redirecting indulgence, then to Patch. "Snacks," she suggests, "in addition to magic and ... Apotheosity." It is not a proper term, or perhaps it is the most proper.
"From a vision, I believe a group is needed to travel with some haste to the desert. For reasons similar to one taken previously by myself and others to Quelynos."
"Right," Cor'lana nods with Verna's final statement. "Telamon and I have... discussed that. Seeing as I bear no particular reason to go, I am not going myself, as much as I'd love to ensure Telamon's survival with my presence."
Pothy seems to recall something. He looks over at Cor'lana and... he whistles. Cor'lana sighs deeply and raises an arm. "/Is/ it time already to go to the dining hall? Okay. I suppose you deserve that much, Pothy. The research can wait."
The white raven flies onto Cor'lana's arm with a noise that sounds suspiciously like a cheer. The sorceress smiles at all gathered. "And with that, I have to bid all of you adieu... Lest Pothy decide to fly off without me!"
The library is now sans one Pothy and one Pothy-caretaker as they depart.
Patch bites her lip at Verna's suggestion, a bobbing nod replacing her words. When she does speak, it's softer. "I think you're right. A little snark and play too." a finger raised to bid a moment.
At Cor'lana and Pothy taking their leave, Patch raises a hand to wiggle fingers after them. "May it be fruitful, Sister." she calls, not trying to cause linger with excess words.
"Hello, Miki." Patch says, turning to greet the newcomer first. "Good to see you." she adds with a nod.
As for Verna? That finger is finally dropped, an array of emotions crossing her sharp features. Confusion, and a bit of a sheepish glance are given to the Mourner. "Sorry, but did you say you want to take a road trip? With Slixvah and I?" a hand urging the other woman to continue. "Who all is going? Unless you need us to go without you?" speculation now as delight fills her tone. "I'll do it. Anything to not be twiddling idle."
Not-Slix bobs her head along to Verna's. "Yeah, kind of annoying, but it'll get dealt with when I gots the spoons for it."
Her attention flicks to Mikilos. "False sun, babe. Child-of-the-Skies, more like. Sun never sets on my wings," the half-oruch gabs in her 'native' tongue in a familiar silky drawl." <yrch-speak>
She waves goodbye to the sorceress and their familiar. "Please leave some food for the students!" before she turns to the Mourner.
She shifts on her feet, glancing to Patch. "... er, I don't think she meant us in particular, but a group in general," she attempts to clarify. A tiny, uneasy gulp. "... but uh, sure, yeah. I can go. Lemme know if you need me ta make any wands in preparation."
Mikilos waves farewell to bird and Feeder, before nodding to Slix. "Wasn't sure with whom I was dealing, and a bit of formality seldom hurts." Turning focus to Verna, he quirks a brow. "When you say 'with some haste' are you talking 'within the week' or 'let's walk while we talk'?"
"Indeed, it was intended as a general call," Verna confirms, "though any of those present who wish to are most welcome." A frown darkens her countenance. "I am not certain what to expect, so I cannot advise on what preparations to make. The expectation would be reconaissance and retrieval. A rescue, as it were." She then looks to Mikilos. "The destination must be determined with some certainty, first. Time is a factor, as our enemies are certainly seeking the same target."
Not-Slix earns a nod, Patch looking a bit sheepish. "You can't blame me for dreaming. I hear a word like travel, and I just...." a smirk flashed. "Apologies." she offers, calming a bit. It's just a bit of an embarrassed flush on her cheeks. It'll soon pass.
"I'll help and spread word. If you have need of me, let me know." Patch assures Verna, sitting back into her seat. "I recently made preparations for things. More for demons and Kol, but I suspect that won't be wasted."
"Plus, telling others gives me time to look into a tall and green brother for someone." Patch's wink flashed to her disguised Egalrin friend.
Not-Slix reaches out, patting Patch on the back. "Oh no, I totes get ya. Travel is /so much/ fun," she grins, but gain a touch of weariness. "Just after th' prophet doin' stuff like that, just... weary, ya dig?"
She sticks her hands in her pockets, half sitting on the table now. "Well, same as Patch, lemme know if ya need a hand. Be it some supplies I can make for ya or my being."
Matilda glances to Patch, tiny tusks peeking out from a closed lip smirk. "Oh absolutely. He's one of those 'hard ta find, easy ta spot' kind of folk. You'll know 'em when ya see 'em."
Mikilos nods the Verna. "Alright. I'm familiar with a few locations in the desert, could leave as soon as clear the city. But having an exact destination would be better. I am, of course, happy to assist. I've my work and duties, but nothing that can't be rescheduled."
Verna nods to each and all. "Thank you all. I shall advise once I have refined the destination. Visions oft open to much interperetation and never so clear as to provide distinct coordinates and rarely conspicuous landmarks. The only relevant preparations that come to mind would be to include weapons of silver as a precaution."
"With what the college pays, and... would silversheen do?" Patch laughs after Not-Slix's pat, shaking her head. "Just my luck. Spend my nest egg on cold iron, and wind up needing silver." a grin flashed to Verna as she stands and moves to put on the coat she'd been holding. "I have a few arrows for pups if that's what you're worried about."
"Well, I have a couple other things to look into, so I'll leave you to the studies." Patch says to Verna, giving the other two a nod. "If you need me, I am easy to find." turning to be on her way, departing with a grin. "Always some fun to be had here."
Not-Slix laughs at that. "Hey, at least shilversheen should do tha' trick on cold iron! But I'll keep that in mind. Maybe I should get a dagger of each material jus' in case."
Noting Patch was leaving, Matilda picks up her books. "Well, shoot me a holler if ya need me then, Verna. Gotta get goin' and readin'. Toodaloo~"
The carefree attidue sloughs off as the half-oruch pushes her spectalces up, clutches her books to her chest, and squeaks out, "Because I-I'm going to b-b-be late for class!"
She scampers out.
"May you all be judged justly and at your appointed time," Verna offers in farewell to those departing, and even those not. She then returns her full attention to the tomes before her. There is much yet to be learned and determined. The stuff of dreams... and nightmares, as well.