Troublesome Lexicon

Warehouse District, Night.

The rooftops of the warehouse district, as usual, remain barren and snow laden. The streets below not too much more populated, though a wandering soul below scurries to seek warmth from the chill. Though, the blanket of snow lends a soft muted silence. An odd beat of serenity amidst the heart of a civilization.

A figure effortlessly clambers up one of the many rooftops, marring the layer of snow with their blue boots and buckled tight green jacket. A scarred mul'neissa woman settles down after finding a spot, shimmering eyes turned skyward to gaze upon a star littered sky. It ends up on the smaller moon, subtle moon. Tch. Shifts over to the larger one that harbors the same glimmer as her eyes. Just watches.

She shakes her head. Right. Have to be ready. Legs cross and she folds her hands in her lap. A deep breath In. A steady one Out.

The rooftop thoroughfare is not in use by all this evening. Aya instead walks along the snow-littered streets below. A single-strapped bag hangs over one shoulder, of the messenger or scholarly variety and rather bloated with contents. Perhaps she has taken up a new vocation in the interim?

GAME: Aryia rolls ranged: (14)+22: 36

The mute is about to settle in for a long while, eyes slowly fluttering closed before she looks down below her once more time. She pauses. Ponders. Smiles.

A rogue snowball from above attempts to find target.

Aya is reasonably wary of those about, of which there seem to be few. On the ground level, that is.

• SPLAT*

The impact into the back of her head brings the realization that she missed someone or something, somewhere. Startled, she immediately darts to the side of the roadway against a building for some form of cover as she looks back, around, and finally upwards.

GAME: Aryia rolls ranged: (4)+22: 26

From up above, a pair of white glowing eyes squint in amusement. A hand glows, fingers waggle, and another snowball (this time illuminated with a handprint), comes sailing down towards Aya's cover.

This time, Aya is prepared. The source now identified, she adjusts a step or three to put building part between herself and Aryia. This leaves the tossed ball to impact into the road where she previously stood. Now for retaliation.

Does she gather up her own ammunition from her fortification? Perpare a return volley? Nay. Instead, she retrieves a small book from the unusual satchel she carries and leans comfortably against the wall. Pages are skimmed, before she clears her throat and then begins to read. Aloud. Loudly, in fact.

"So it was that the pugilistic prodigy Rayia found herself a guest of the mysterious knight known only as 'V.' Guest, or captive? None had ever laid eyes upon what lay beneath his darkly gleaming helm and armor. Was he handsome? Plain? Was he even a he? She vowed to learn the truth, even if she had to strip him, or her, bare..."

It's at about this time that another set of footsteps treads the quiet street of the warehouse district. Seldan carries full weapons and armor, as if preparing for war, and happens to pass by the alley where Aya hides just as the last sentence floats out of it.

It is not, however, Seldan who speaks, but the sword at his hip. "Oooh, this sounds like a good story," a crotchety old man's voice floats out on the chilly air.

Aryia raises another snowball, compensating for the newly found cover. She cocks an arm back and-

Pause. Head tilt. The packed snow is tossed aside and abandoned, the mute taking a leap to cross a rooftop and peer over the edge above Aya. She waves a hand at Aya. "Hey." Bad angle. Can't be seen. Another hop to the roof across. A hand glows for visibility. "Heeeeey. Hey. Hey! The fuck you reading? Which book is that? I don't remember that one! Spoilers!" she complains from above with increasingly pouty handsigns.

An armored man makes an ear flick, and she glances to the street proper. She blinks, raises a brow, then whistles a bit loudly to garner their attention. "Read it louder!" she requests, thinking it'd be funny to embarrass someone. Little does she know.<Handspeech>

Aya looks up to see Aryia's reaction. How could she not. Thus she readily spies the glowing, gesturing hand. A brow arches at the comments, though the grin below it was already present. "Do you wish no spoilers, or for me to read further? Which is it, dear sister?" Her eyes then shift to the footsteps and the somewhat familiar voice to confirm the traveller. "It seems we have an audience. Good eve to you, sir." She stops short of name. "Did you wish to hear more? There is a fair amount of damage to clothing in later chapters, but, fortunately, the heroine of the tale is quite the talented tailor."

Seldan stops short, his footfalls halting at the words. "No, my lady. I am certain that the tale is quite fascinating." Choking embarrassment colors the words, and a flush colors the spring-fair features. The voice at his hip, on the other hand, has different ideas. It seems to be coming - from the sword?

"No, no, boy. I want to hear more of this. Do go on."

Another male voice emerges from the sword, this one younger, deep and dark and with a khazadi accent. "It sounds like a Crimson Pen story. I miss being able to - you know."

Glowing eyes roll in their sockets. "Fine," Aryia signs. "Don't read it further. I want to give it a... read?" She peers over the edge of the roof. Blinking curiously. "Wait, this one is a tailor? That's interesting. I've not heard this one before. When did it release?"

Tired of 'talking' from afar, Aryia peels off and tumbles off the roof, landing between the two with a poof of snow. Nary any harm, but she's trying to spy at the spine for a title before she looks downward towards the sword. She snorts. "See! They get it. The books are some good shit."

Motions are directed higher, and despite lack of knowing, the gist gets across. "Hello Seldan, how are you," she gestures towards him. "What are you doing in this part of town?" <Handspeech/Tongues>

Two nays and two bodiless ayes. Aya closes the book, grin widening to Seldan. "It is a very intresting tale and, yes, it looks to be the latest addition to the Crimson Pen." To Aryia, she notes, "Not yet released. This seems to be an advance copy. Lady Akorinil was apparently a fan of the series. This was hidden within her former desk."

Her focus returns to Seldan as she slips the book into one bag while patting the larger one she carries. "Speaking of whom, I have some other documents that you and others may be interested in, Silverguard."

The name 'Akorinil' suffices to get Seldan's attention, and the voices are suddenly familiar. "At times do I seek my evening prayer atop the seawall," he tells Aryia, adding a polite bow once she comes into view. He is still pink-cheeked, but seems all too ready to turn his attention to a different topic.

Reunion, however, is of another mind. "Oooh, a brand new one? The boy doesn't read them, so I take what I can get."

"Kanian, enough, please." Seldan's cheeks have pinkened again. "You wish to read such as that?" He shakes his head, and turns immediately to Aya. "You were able to learn something of her activities, ere she disappeared? " Aya still gets that level stare, but he is listening.

Aryia's attention is peering and curious, her ducking and trying to look over the book. But 'Akorinil' makes her demeanor shift. She frowns, crossing her arms. How /dare/ that woman like the same things Aryia likes! The mute pouts. "Of course that bitch can be an advanced reader," she waves off, sighing.

She looks to the sword. "You got a favorite? I have a lot of them," she gestures to it, Kanian more specifically. Unsure if the sword could even see her.

She looks to Seldan, making a clicking sound with her tongue. "It's a good view. I see it almost every day. If you get there around an hour before dawn, its the best time to see-"

She stops fast. Blinks rapidly. "Wait. She's /missing/??" News to her. <Handspeech/Tongues>

"Possibly," Aya admits to Seldan. She unshoulders the bag and offers it to him. "I had time to grab what was not glued down, but not to sift through it all. Much of what I did read made little sense to me. If others found other clues, they might be able to make more of it than I." She is ... sharing. Gifting, even.

Aryia's surprise draws a nod. "She vanished without notice. More, she had suspsicions something would happen, and implied there are clues to locate her or whatever she was investigating. She was aiding us, in a way."

"Even so," Seldan nods to Aryia. "It is in my mind that she returned to Charn on an urgent faith-based matter, but there may be another reason." He reaches to take the bag of documents, already peering into it. "Even so. Her inn room held a wealth of potions intended to aid in slipping into Charn undetected, and a map of some of the anomalies seen around Alexandria. She was - most thorough." His eyes lower, and he looks away from the bag for a minute. "Would that I understood why."

Aryia rubs her face. "... I don't understand her at all, she's always wanted to 'help'. Even one time, she wanted a Shard we had." The mute heavily sighs. She looks to her sister. Totally perplexed. "I mean, yes, I guess a faith-based matter makes since- well-" she gestures at Seldan, then vaguely up towards the moons.

She leans on her back foot, a boot tip tapping against the ground as she thinks. "... this about the weird magic shit I've been hearing about? Makes sense a priestess of that asshole would check out magic anomalies. Just to one up Eluna. Or... something."

She rubs her temples. Magic and the like isn't her forte. <Handspeech/Tongues>

"She knew something we did not, and do not. She prepared for many possibilities. I understand that well enough," Aya offers her opinion. "The details she left us to learn, intentionally or otherwise..." She doesn't need to follow Aryia's gesture to understand her meaning and nods. "The last I heard from Charn was that Taara's power was waning, temples and followers were falling... and that was before..." She now echoes the gesture of hand to the moons. "She may have returned to fight for her faith and faithful, and could not freely enter." Her tone even bears a hint of pity, of all things.

"The Griever." Seldan frowns, listening, and his eyes remain lowered. "It is in my mind that we should venture to Charn, and soon. We must go silently, and speaking to none of our intentions or whereabouts. Time grows short, and this has waited long enough." What is he talking about?

Aryia lets out an annoyed sigh. "Good point. Probably heading beck to keep shit from crumbling."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Who is this 'we' bullshit?" Aryia says the question aloud to Seldan. Well, aloud. She is loud. Big hand movements. Lots of scowling. It's clear she understands who and what he's talking about. <Handspeech/Tongues>

Aya nods lightly to Seldan, her prior smile having dimmed and now turning to deepening scowl. "He is surely not intending to make Charn anything better than it was, and there is no reason to believe he would stop there. He already threatens other nations." She looks to Aryia 'yelling' and frowns even more. "Some of us cannot go just yet. There are more pressing matters to tend to, first and foremost." She has her own demons to slay.

Aryia's ebullient response elicits a shift in Seldan's demeanor, and he straightens, taking on the aspect of an alabaster pillar, cool, impassive, and stone-like. "Of course." He executes a small, formal bow in Aryia's direction. "Forgive me. I presumed overmuch. I shall not trouble you further." He turns, still holding the bag. "I shall return your bag as swiftly as I may. Her light upon your path."

Aryia glares. Listens to the conquest trail and what Charn could be: even worse than it was before. She glares. Gets the pillar treatment. She glares.

"S-ld-n," a faint, hissing, toneless whisper comes from Aryia. The thing is, Aryia punches pillars and rock to rubble.

"Listen here, moon boy. You walk up here and assume I'm just going to waltz away back into the hell fuck hole that was my homeland?"

She takes two long strides forward and around him. "/You/ and others freed me from that Bitch. Look me in the face and /ask/ for my help like a fucking normal person, and I will help you. None of this presumption bullshit with more subtext than a Crimson Pen." <Handspeech/Tongues>

Aya blinks at Aryia's ... well, on second thought, the direct and blunt manner is not so surprising. It may be as much Seldan's turning, both to stone and away. "Seldan, I -shall- aid you all," she assures, " even if it is as unpleasant an undertaking as my sister describes."

"There is no subtext," Seldan answers simply, his entire demeanor completely closed, but his gaze steady and clear. "I do not ask a venture to Charn of one who escaped its horrors. Nor do I ask aid of one who has only harsh words for me. I have had my fill of insults and harsh words from those who claim themselves allies. I have tolerated far too much of that, and no more shall I have." He makes to move around Aryia.

Aryia closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath in. Then slowly exhales. "I'm not going to apologize because nothing I said has been insults nor harshness," she crosses her arms. "I just don't have any fucking energy or desire to be yanked around. Look. You want me to not curse at you like I do to everything and everyone? Ask me. You want me to go fight in my homeland to stop some dumb fuck face from making it worse? And maybe I can do some collateral damage to shit I hate? Ask me. I am vying to break shit. I am going insane here in this city."

She waves her hand in front of her face. "Throwing up a wall to a deal this? My dumb ass? I'm a /sailor/, Seldan. I know more swears and curses than a linguist. If you take my words as insults, then get your eyeballs waxed, because this is nothing."

She steps aside to let him pass. Still glaring. But in a more exasperated manner. "Her light on your path, she finishes, having exhausted her pleasantries. <Handspeech/Tongues>

Aya is aware of a great deal to which Seldan refers. Some of which may have been her own doing. Possibly more than some. She begins to gesture (to Aryia as Seldan had turned), though pauses as she steps aside. "Her light on your path, Seldan," she notes in return farewell rather than add further. Aryia receives only a single gesture: an encouraging one of approval akin to 'Good job' that may or may not contain sarcasm. Tone does not convey so easily with hands, aside from large movements, or, say, punches.

"It is not in my mind that energy is what you lack, Aryia." Ice runs through Seldan's tone as he turns away, but he says nothing further, omitting his usual lines as he turns and strides off down the street.