Spinning a Web

Emblem of Ea - Thursday, May 27, 2021, 4:32 PM

Faranmidahn, enjoying a nice dinner after a post-training soak to loosen up her battered muscles, entertains Thurid and Aryia at her table. The three women discuss such topics as training, shapeshifting and the interplay of magics, while Faran's familiar, Zephyr starts to make a friend. As Thurid takes her leave, Faran takes delight in watching her little spider have fun with a potential new friend as they discuss clothing, though she makes something of a faux pax in her charitable impulse. Things are smoothed over, and they touch on the difference of time between them, and sometimes people have troubling thinking outside their own heads before the dark elf wonders about the Lucht's spider motiff. In time, it comes to pass that Aryia must also depart, but is interested in what the albino seamstress has to offer, leaving Faran musing that, misstep aside, it was a good day.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* The TarRaCe *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Inside, this two-story structure has been almost completely opened up. Generous windows on both stories allow daytime sunlight and cooling night breezes to flow in as needed, while the brick walls have been whitewashed - contrasting with the dark-stained beams and supports, and the rich polish on the wooden floor. A broad strip of stone runs from the entrance to a framed doorway set into the opposite wall, with a sign above the lintel declaring that the baths are to be found that way.

The ground floor is sprinkled with tables and chairs of assorted sizes, offering welcome to guests both large and small. One whole corner of the building - into which guests are not permitted entry - has been given over to the kitchen, which serves as the domain of the famed monster chef Ligum Serforus. Mundane meals are available, but the chef delights in offering up obscure dishes made from the freshest of monster ingredients.

Opposite the kitchen a small bar runs in front of an array of shelves, displaying a broad selection of beverages (most of them alcoholic). The bar-top has been fashioned from what looks to have been old pieces of armor, fused and welded together before being polished to provide a near-smooth finish. Set above it, three human-sized statues have been built into an alcove in the wall: Tarien, Rada and Ceinara jointly keep benevolent watch over the room and its occupants.

To the right of the entrance, a small stage offers a platform for a handful of performers at a time. To the left of the door, a spiral staircase of wrought iron winds its way up to a balcony dining area, that is chiefly reserved for special events and parties.

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Aryia        4'8"     110 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    A heavily scarred mul with a curious look about her.                       
Faranmidahn  3'3"     35 Lb      Halfling          Female    Albino Lucht woman. Knight of Spiders. So, SO Fluffy.                      
Thurid       7'1"     249 Lb     Giantborn         Female    Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman.                                      
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The Tarrace has been something of a frequent destination of late, though not often so bereft of companions. The little knight, Faran is working on a comparatively well stacked pile of seasoned rabbit and vegetables. While clean, the albino looks rather battered, and the hand not forking dinner is gently stroking the fuzzy white spider beside her plate.

Thurid is here in the TarRaCe today, having arrived a little while ago and headed for the baths first- she'd been training, and was in dire need of a soak. So she emerges from the rear of the place, hair still slightly damp, but much refreshed, and makes her way to one of the free tables- just as the dinner rush is beginning. She spies Faran, whom she knows only passingly- but recognizes all the same, and offers her a wave in greeting. She makes her way over, "Hail, friend. Look like you've been through the wringer." she observes.

Aryia had been doing her best to get used to the sights and sounds of the Colosseum, so the menial work she had been picking up between adventuring jobs had slowly shifted its way towards that end of the city. She enteres TarRaCe with a barrel over one shoulder, her making a beeline towards the barkeep. She gets paid a few coins, the elf wiping her brow free of sweat as she passes by the two.

She pauses, slows, and turns back, offering a wave in greeting to Thurid and whoever they were speaking with.

Faranmidahn looks up and beams a smile to the veyr large woman, "Hi!" she rolls a shoulder a little with a little list of her head, "Yes, well... a bit." she returns with a wan smile.

The little one rolls her wrist and gestures toward a seat, "Please, be my guest. How are you today?" she wonders.

Meanwhile, the fluffy white spider, about eh size of a human woman's fist, turns and waves a foreleg at the Jotun.

The sight of the dark elf carrying the barrel in draws the curious tracking of her glittering rose peepers, but the wave prompts a warm smile and a little wave all the same.

Thurid takes the offered seat then returning the smile with her own gap-toothed grin, as she settles in. "A story to tell, or something you'd rather forget?" she wonders of Faran, on the topic of her aches and pains.

When she spies Aryia, she lifts a hand, "Hail, friend!" she calls over to her, boistrously, from her seat. "How is the day treating you?" she wonders, and gestures Aryia over.

To Faran, she says, "I hope you don't mind if I order, I'm half starved." she muses, and then takes a peek at the chalkboard menu over towards the kitchen, peering at it while she waits for one of the staff to be within hailing distance.

Aryia smiles a bit brighter at Thurid's energetic greeting. She thinks about the question for a beat before giving a thumbs up. The elf points to Thurid and raises a brow.

The scarred mul looks between the two, rubbing her arm for a moment before gesturing to a free seat.

Faranmidahn shakes her head, "No, no, not at all!" she returns merrily. There's a fond little stroke back along the spider's body and, "I'm finding that training at different scales is still more disorienting than I like to admit. But at least the jousting is balancing out better."

Her eyes are drawn to their new company and, with only a glance at Thurid, the Knight against gestures to the seat, "Welcome! I'm Sir Faranmidahn Waywalker, of the Order of the Purple Rose, it's nice to meet you!"

Once again the little spider waves a foreleg to this new companion.

"And this is my dear friend, Zephyr." the Lucht adds.

Thurid returns the thumbs up, "Well! I bested my personal record at the hammer throw today." she calls out to Aryia in answer to her quirked brow. And nods emphatically as she looks to the free seat. "At different scales?" she turns back to wonder at Faranmidahn. "I know a thing or two about that, myself. I often call upon Angoron to grant me a fraction of his might, that I can embody a true giant." she says then.

One of the serving staff moves nearby, and Thurid turns to catch their attention, ordering herself the roasted spatchcock capon and vegetables, and a flagon of beer. She turns towards Aryia, "Are you ordering anything?" she wonders, while the server is still about.

Aryia gives an impressed look as she slides into the chair, her giving a soft applause at the achievment. They give a strange look towards the spider, finally noticing them. She waves at Zephyr at well.

She gives answers the question by mouthing and signing "Water," to the server as she pulled out a worn journal. <Handspeech>

Flipping through the pages, she takes a loose one out and presents it to Faranmidahn. In scrawling Tradespeak, it reads:

"I am Aryia."

Faranmidahn nods, "I've figured out a bit of sorcery that lets me change forms for a little while, or reduce someone's stature. For the most part, I save that for carrying wounded people to safety." she explains, "Most of my companions are wonderful people, but very, very heavy."

She looks to their new guest, questions in her eyes, and leans a little to read her message before nodding and giving another warm smile, "It's nice to meet you Aryia!" A nod to THurid's question, then, "Yes, please, be my guest!"

Meanwhile, getting the response to her wave makes Zephyr do a little bobbing dance and, oddly, emit a soft rumble.

Thurid lets the serving staff go on their way, now the group's orders are placed, and then nods her head along to Faran. "I had opportunity to use a magical item some time ago, that I think I'd quite like to get ahold of. It allowed me to increase my size at will, as often and easily as I liked. As well as granting me the grit to fight on despite serious wounds- something which proved useful, when I laid low the ogre king." she muses.

Back towards Aryia, she says, "I don't know if you've ever been here, before- but this is one of my favorite spots in the city." she gestures a thumb towards the entrance to the baths, "Most nights, duties permitting, I come here for a soak after training and take dinner here in the front after." she explains.

Aryia ponders what it would be like to be as tall as Thurid, tapping her chin. She silently chuckles at Zephyr's antics before turning back to Thurid. She puts the journal on the table and scribbles something down on it. She turns it around so both could read.

"I hav herd man e tims that it is good. May b should go som tyme soon. For carying peopl, I got this thyng that lets me pick up stuf easyer."

To augment her point, she rolls up a sleeve and presents a leather strap that wraps around her scarred forearm and vanishes further into the sleeve of her shirt.

Faranmidahn's eyes brighten, "Oh, that sounds like an amazing story!" she replies with equal measures of delight and curiosity. Derring do still stokes her little heart, after everything

She nods to Thurid again, "Yes, the chefs are quite good here, and the baths are... -amazing-!" She claps her hands together to rub her palms, then, "I often come in after training to soak, though... some of the pools are large enough I can play with my shapeshifting spell for-" She breaks off on sight of the woman's ravaged arm and she wonders what horrors she'd been forced to endure, but that is a question for someone more tightly acquainted.

Ahem, "For a little while."

Thurid chuckles a bit, and then brings her arms up to flex them, out at her sides. Her biceps wiggle in turns, "I just use these for carrying things." she says then and her chuckle turns into a heatier belly laugh. She nods in agreement of Faran's assessment of the baths, "That they are. They do aching muscles a world of good." she adds. She makes no comment on Aryia's scars, having spied them on more than one occasion now- and a fair idea of how the Mul got them.

"As for the food- it's good, yes. But I admit I do often head down to the ox-strength to get myself a curry." she tells Faran.

"As for shapeshifting in the baths... well, I suppose that could give someone quite a fright. Then again, there's that Sharklin- one of the co owners? Who is often in the baths, so I expect the regulars are quite used to it."

Despite how much she's attempted to cover herself up, such scars exend further than just her arm. Aryia's face, especially her throat, weren't spared from whatever it was. Though, most of the scars seem old with just a few that are fresher. She catches the pause, Aryia sinking into her chair somewhat and pulling the sleeve back down.

Scribble scribble scribble.

"I wil try them soon then."

The laughter picked up her mood quickly, the elf breathily snickering behind a hand.

"Oh, Miss Irshya? Yes, she's a sweetheart!" Faran replies, then, with a bright blush overstating her mild look of embarassment, "I actually did give her a start when I used it the first time." Ahem, "Anyway, it was a spot of whimsy but... swimming that way feels incredible. I'm sorry I haven't figured out how to let other people try it as well, but the anchoring is so much more complex."

She notes Ayria's shift in posture and she bows her head, "Forgive me, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I was... surprised. I imagine you've been through a great deal, but we're only recently met."

"She is indeed, if a little mischevious." Thurid agrees with Faren once more. But she nods her head, "I can imagine, swimming like the fish do, flying as the birds do- it must be quite exhillirating." she says then. Her beer and Aryia's water arrive, though the food will be a moment longer. Thurid takes a swig. She glances at the two of them over the rim of her flagon as they discuss the scars, falling quiet for a moment.

"Scars tell stories. The meaning of those stories depends on how you read them." she says, somewhat cryptically. But goes on to explain what she means- "They tell of pain suffered, yes. But they also tell of hardships overcome." she finishes.

The elf gives a small, neutral shrug, her flipping through her journal idly to find a new blank spot to write as she nods at Thurid's insight. Pen scratches page.

"Its fyne. May b tel you layter."

She scratches her head with the end of the pen while picking up the delivered water. "How does it fel when you use that kynd of magik? It loks weird, lyke it would hurt. Bones and stuf chaynging."

"At your comfort, Miss Aryia, and not before." Faran says with a thoughtful smile, then takes a moment to spear some more veggies and rabbit with her fork while Zephyr happily explores today's table decorations.

This gives her time to frame the question, "Well... to be honest, the transformation once the spell's complete happens so fast you don't really have time to feel it. Since it's remolding everything at once, I imagine there's no pain, since nothing is occuring seperately, so it isn't like the spell is tearing me apart. I used my reduce spell on my friends, and they don't seem to feel any pain at all."

To Thurid, she notes, "Some scars are past the flesh, but you're quite right, there are stories aplenty within them."

Thurid listens to Faran's impression of the shapechange, and then nods, "As for my works, I call on Angoron for aid. So I feel a swelling within, his might infusing my being, and then my being swells to accomadate it." she says then. "It doesn't hurt. It's not unlike receiving any other blessing, really." she says and gives a half shrug. "If you're curious, I could call upon Angoron to show you some time. Though, not here. It won't hurt you, but it may harm the furniture." sh says with a small grin.

Aryia pokes a finger out towards Zephyr from the table as they explore, giving the digit a little wiggle to get their attention.

The elf frows slightly. Scribble. "Nevr had n e thyng besydes bad magik used on me until I got here, heeling spels hurt. But some hav heeld me and they have not hurt. I jus figured most magik hurts, but I gues not. May b can try it som tyme."

Zephyr is rather invested in the flower arrangements at first, but the wiggling finger seems to beckon the arachnid over the elf's way once she's noticed and a foreleg reaches out to the large digit.

"I've know some who've been reared at the bad end of magic. I wish it hadn't been that way for you, Miss Aryia." Faran replies the message, then to Thurid, "It would be interesting to see if my shapechanging magic would work with your blessing Miss Thurid, perhaps we can try it out later."

Thurid frowns a bit at Aryia's comments, especially about the healing hurting. "They must have been servants of the dusk court. They can still call upon healing miracles, but it is not natural to them. It goes against the nature of their wicked gods. And so their gods allow it, but take the chance to inflict pain or suffering, as is their want." Thurid says then, and shakes her head a bit. "As for the other spells- yes, sadly many magic uses turn from the righteous path."

She glances towards the spider, creeping over towards Aryia, quiet a moment, and is glad of the change of topic from Faran. "Hmmm... sadly, I think probably not. At least, it does not work on animals- not even the Divine Bulls Angoron sometimes sends to me. But I suppose there is no harm in trying."

The large digit pokes the foreleg gingerly, a small smile cresting Aryia.

Though, it's short lived as she purses her lips and slowly nods. Nefarious healing enjoys marring whatever it touches. She merely drinks her water. Contemplating would it would be like to be twice as physically strong.

Faranmidahn hmm's, "I'm familiar with that limitation. I can't reduce Zephyr, or Torrent, but the changing magics I use, I'm still limited to...." how best to put this, "people shapes. Like, I can become a mermaid, but not a dolphin. It may still work."

Zephyr's foreleg tap-taps at the gentle touch and she makes her little 'purr' again. She ventures closer, pivots a bit on her feet to regard the others, then wanders over to lightly paw at the Mul's arm.

Thurid ahas, "Then, I expect it would probably work in that case." Thurid says to Faran then. "Given it works just as well on goblins or sith-makar as it does on humans, I expect mermaids are near enough." she says with a shrug and a grin. "Though, I'm not sure the baths are quite large enough. I had, for a time, considered having myself enlarged permanantly. I hear that wizards can do such a thing. But then I realized it might be more hinderence than help." she says and shakes her head a bit.

"T'would be hell to find suitible accomodation and facilities in most towns, I imagine. I struggle on occasion as it is, in places where the population are mostly shorter folk." she concludes. And just then, her food arrives- a capon, split in half and flattened, well roasted along with various vegetables.

Aryia chuckles silently, a nasily sound as she plays with Zephyr. She turns her arm over, giving a spot for the spider to clamber up and onto her arm. Writing with her other hand, she scribbles:

"I alredy hav some isues trying to fynd clothes. I bet wold be hardr if you were realy big. Myght be best to wear a sail." She smirks at that.

Faranmidahn smiles and nods, "I suspect so, yes. As for the baths? I've done it, before, actualy." There's a little grin, then, "But being that large all the time would likely be trouble, travelling long distances, I imagine there aren't many mounts large enough. And it may become much more expensive to eat, though I know there are some divine magics that can work around that." She leans a little to get a look at Thurid's plate and, "That looks good."

Little Zephyr edges back just a little as the arm rolls over, but she then scurries up onto the limb and starts to do her little bobbing dance.

Faran looks to the note, then, "I make clothes in my spare time." she observes, "And there's a few shops in the market district I could recommend if you want something more... polished?"

Thurid laughs a bit, "That's not a terrible idea." she muses on the topic of wearing a sail. "You could fold it round, like a toga." she adds after a moment. She starts in on her dinner while Faran speaks. "I walk most places anyway." she adds then. "Prefer walking over riding. Though I do oft rent a mule or donkey, to carry supplies." she explains.

She glances over at Faran, "Want to try it?" she wonders, gesturing towards her plate. And a look towards Aryia, "I'm lucky enough there's more than a few dran and jotun-blooded folks in the city, so it's not too bad. When I was growing up, my ma had to make all her own clothes, since there were almost none where we lived."

Aryia bobs her head along with Fara's point as she carefully pats the spider's back, throughly enjoying playing with the little critter.

She scribbles a bit on the page. "I alredy fownd some one, Sandi. I hav to meet her in the morning. Mul smaler than other Syl, but bigger than smaler peopl. Weird in betwen. What do you meen polieshed? Lyke, fancy? Fancy clothes would get destroyed with how I wear them. Thurid knows."

"It could be fun! I could also try my spell on you if you want? I couldn't get you down to my size, but perhaps Miss Aryia's?" Faran replies with a grin. The spider, for her part, makes her little noise anew and seems to be fairly pleased with the petting.

"Her shop has some nice things in it, but, well, not necessarily fancier, but maybe better stitched? Fancier material."

"I don't put much stock in clothing, myself." Thurid muses- responding to Aryia's comment with a nod of her head. "Oft as not they're ruined sooner than later, given the work we do. So I favor the practical essentials." she shrugs. "I've heard some adventurers use magic clothes, what can change their form however they're needed, and they're a simple set of bracers otherwise. Though, that could be embarassing if you wander into a place where magic doesn't behave, I'd think." she muses.

Thurid scoffs at the thought of becoming smaller, "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try it." she eventually settles on, on second thought- though she still seems quite reluctant about it.

Aryia snerks, picking the spider up carefully and placing them on her shoulder. Scribble scribble. "Embarasing, but kynda funny."

She glances to Fara. "Yes, beter material. These dont last long. But being smal is nice sometymes, Thurid. Can get knecaps easier."

Faranmidahn looks to Thurid and nods, "Oh, yes, my sister has sleeves that do that." she offers, "I like weaving, and making clothes by hand. It's.... soothing." She giggles a little, "There -is- that little problem with antimagic fields, yes." She giggles some more.

Zephyr explores the shoulder as she's settled into place and gently pat-pats the elf's neck as she continues her purr.

Faran reads the note and nods, "I've made some hunting silks that have held up pretty well, though sometimes I've used magic to fix the more... unseemly cuts now and then. Silk is pretty sturdy and I much prefer working with it, myself."

Thurid, all the while, has been working on her dinner. And she has gotten through it at seemingly record pace, though for her, it's not all that unusual. All that remains on her plate are the bones of the capon, picked clean of meat. She pats her belly, and then drains the remainder of her beer. "Well. I had better get going. Thank you, both, for the company. We'll have to test your magic out, some time. Perhaps you could shrink me down for my wrestling match against Aryia and Paenitia. Even the odds." she muses with a smirk.

"But, for now, fare well both of you." she offers, rising from her seat. She offers a dip of her head to each, and then makes her way towards the exit.

Aryia tilts her head to the side so the spider could crawl up higher if they so wish.

She gives a wave as Thurid, a small glint of determination going through her eyes with a grin to match. Even though she wouldn't understand, Aryia uses a spare hand and signs, "Be small, be big, we will try our best to beat you." <Handspeech>

She turns to face Fara. "Ive nevr realy had anything lyke silk befor. Or n e thyng else aside from linen or coton.

Faranmidahn waves to Thurid as she heads out, "Alright, Miss Thurid, we'll try some other time, have a good night!" then turns to watch her familiar playing with their new friend.

Zephyr, ever one to explore new vistas, does start to eander up the dark elf's neck and cheek to perch atop her head for a look around. Another biped conquered!

The Lucht looks to Aryia's notes and she nods, "If you like some night I can measure you and see what I can put together? It feels glorious on the skin, and it doesn't tear easily."

Aryia rights herself as the little critter nests on her head, letting them have their triumph.

The elf ponders the proposition for a moment before giving a small nod. An arm free now, she adjusts the journal and writes a bit more.

"I can. Can pay you for it too. That sounds nyce."

Little Zephyr relishes her victory, doing a couple of laps around Aryia's head before making her way back to the center and huddling down, looking like a fuzzy coconut sprinkled fascinator atop the elf's head. She certainly sounds happy.

Faran, amused and assured by the delight of her familiar, turns a warm smile the Mul'niessa's way, "I know some people have feelings about gifts, Miss Aryia. You don't need to, but if it makes you feel better, but I won't accept more than the cost of materials, if that's alright?"

She holds back as the spider runs their laps, fingers twitching before reaching up to scratch at the spots that were pitter pattered down. Aryia throws a few strands of moon colored hair over the little spider, letting them nestle in.

Aryia's face shows a frown for a moment, resignation, then a weak smile. Scribble.

"I dont lyke gifts and pity. Got enouf of it here when I first got here. Rather fel lyke Im not being a bother, so Ill pay for the materials. "

"I enjoy making things." Faran replies gently, fidgetting a little bit, then, "But... maybe one day you can do something for me in trade, though, I don't know what kind of skills you have."

Zephyr is somewhat surprised, at first, by the extra strands, but she doesn't do anything of a strugglish nature.

She smiles weakly, "I... sometimes struggle with the balance of being nice, and being kind.... please forgive my presumption."

It's hard to descern whether or not the elf's milky gaze is that of a glare or of mere observance. She scratches a fingernail agains the page, chewing on her lip before slowly writing more.

"I cant mayke n e thyng, so dont xpect n e thyng pysical. Al I can realy do is sail. And punch thyngs." Her knuckles were rather calloused.

"Your fyne. Beter than som others," she continues scribling. "Som when they fryst meet me they try and tel me to fynd cleric to fix my voice. Or artyfce." She rolls her eyes, looking like she was recalling an event.

"Well, one day, I might need something picked up." Faran offers in counter with a little smile, "You are very strong." She pokes at what remains of her rabbit, then, "I haven't spent a lot of time on a boat, there was a Guild job, once, but.." she trails off. There's a glance at her familiar atop the elf's head and she giggles, "You look very comfortable up there, missy!"

A little rumble, which prompts another giggle.

Then, more seriously to Aryia, "Most people mean well... we just don't always understand other people's ways, or how our actions look outside our own heads."

"I am strong," she writes, feeling strangely proud about that fact, her smiling a bit more. Though she couldn't help but silently snicker as well, her glancing up towards where the spider was.

A sigh leaves her, the mute woman nodding. Scribble scribble.

"I kno. Just som peopl dont seem to thynk further than what they see in front of them." She pauses to think, the elf none too literate. "Obvius solutins arent always the best, and sometymes they never consider how Ive already thought abowt such thyngs a lot all redy for many decades."

The Lucht nods with a wan smile, taking another couple bites of her meal to buy some time to frame her reply, then, "I won't deny that... you still look young, as some of you tallfolk do, for longer than my great-great-grandchildren will. I sometimes forget that time doesn't always touch us the same way, in body or mind. I try to be more mindful in the future, though."

Aryia polishes off her water and pushes it away. She looks off for a moment, watching the ebb and flow of the crowd. The pen writes more.

"Thys is true. But dont wory abowt it. I forget too. Mostly just geting unwanted help is frus trating. At least in Charn, peopl dont try and get into your problems."

Faranmidahn has thoughts on Charn being most of it's people's problems, but doesn't remark to the effect. Instead, she nods, "Fair enough." and spends a few moments cleaning her plate. She takes up her cup for a sip, then, "If you're looking for another place with good food..." she starts, perhaps to get everyone somewhere more comfortable, "The Fernwood Pub has really good food as well, less exotic than here. Oh, but they have practice cake, which is sort of like gambling, but are usually delightful!"

Aryia gives a noncomittal nod- taking care to not dislodge the nesting spider- and turns a new page over in her journal. She seems comfortable in the silence, her carefully streching each of her fingers and popping the joints.

The mute glances over, raising a brow. Strange change, but she rolls with it. Scribble.

"I usualy end up staying there. I just come here to get used to the Colosseum. But what is practic cake? I hav no idea what that is."

Faranmidahn hmmm's, "It's.... well, sometimes the cooks try to do something new. It's something my sister told me about." she answers with a little shrug, "Usually, for changing seasons, or upcoming festivals, they'll experiment with new flavors of cake before they decide to go with one to stick with."

Ahem, "We... like our sweets, and I like surprises when no one gets hurt."

Understanding flashes across her face, the elf mouthing something similar to "I see."She makes a mental note to try it out the next she is there.

Silence. Pen tapping. Scribble.

"Whats with the spyder stuf?" she asks a bit bluntly, glancing up at the nesting Zepyhr.

Faranmidahn nods with a little smile and she nods. Neat! Maybe they'll have cake flavors to talk about, too!

The question brings a little color to her face. Well, for her it's a little, for her complexion though it's quite a bit, "Well... I've loved spiders since I was sma-" ahem, "Very small. With certain sides of my family... we.... well... maybe get a little obsessive about things, sometimes."

She looks to her accoutrements a moment, then, "I know for the most part it's one sided, but I love them. Torrent is a spider, too, but they've asked me nicely not to bring him in if I can avoid it. He's a sweet boy, but he makes people nervous."

Now that made the mul'neissa raise a brow. The elf may not be the most learned, but it was clear she put the pieces together quick. She glances to the door, as if expecting another eight legged creature to come scuttling through. Scribble.

"Wait. You hav a biger spyder? But I gues thats good you lyke somethying lyke that. I___" she let the pen drag, "dont realy hav something lyke that."

"He's the friend I've had the longest." Faran replies with an affirming nod, eyes glittering, "I love him!" There's a moment of thought, her knuckle touching her lip, then, "Tip of his abdomen to the point of his face, he's a little longer than I am, tall. And his legs are about that long, each. He's black and shiney, and very very brave!"

"I'm the only Knight I've even heard of with a spider, so... I.... kinda leaned into it. There are people who take a color for their own, but I love spiders, sooooo..." Another shrug and a bright smile.

Aryia takes a moment to visualize, her tilting her head one way and another (with a hand on her head to keep the little one in place) before making an impresed expression. Scribble.

"If one night can hav a bird horse thing as a friend and another can hav one as a spyder, may b you arent alone in having diferent friends," she offers in writing.

Though, she does follow up with, "Spyders are neet. They get rid of flyies."

Faranmidahn claps her hands with a delighted, "Exactly!" She glances about the other guests with a contrite, "Pardon me." then turns back to her companion, "But I see you've met Sister Paenitia and Ramirez. Friendship is what you make of it, and sometimes it takes more effort than others." She reads the rest, then, "Sometimes mice, too. Zephyr likes mice, which makes some people happy, because she's very smart, so she keeps a lot of pests under control. I have a little harder time feeding Torrent, and that really makes people squeamish, so I try to take him out of the city now and then so we can hunt him some proper game. If he doesn't want a pig."

Ahem, "He -loves- pig."

Aryia gives a light smile. Scribble.

"Yes, I workd with them a few tymes. They are nyce."

The pugilist offers a hand for Zephyr to climb onto so she can deposit the critter back on the table. She gives them a small pat on the back before she continues writing.

"Though, she makes a face, like she imagined the sight. "Sownds very mesy. A whol pig."

Zephyr takes a moment to dientangle herself from the silky strands, then, perhaps with a tickle, spends a moment straightening them out a little before she crawls onto the proferred hand. She emits a soft purr at the gentle stroke and she pivots to regard the elf as it ends, waving her foreleg to the woman again. The little coconut puff then skitters back over to the albino's waiting hand to be brought up for a soft kiss.

Faran strokes the little one lightly and she nods, a wan expression on her features at the look on Aryia's face, "Ah... a bit. It's not as messy as many think, but it's... a sight. Probably best not discussed while people are eating." She scratches at the back of her neck a moment, then, is forced to wonder from setting Zephyr down, "Are you heading out, then, Miss Aryia?"

Aryia waves back at the small puff, her lightly grinning at the sight. That was nice. Tiny spiders like that were nice. Better than noisy ravens. She nods in agreement before standing. Scribble.

"I am. Ned to wake up earle tomorow to unload a boat. It was nyce to meet you."

She briskly stacks the plates up, collects the glasses, and brings them back to the bar. As she leaves, she points a few fingers at Faran and makes a few gestures.

" See you later." <Handspeech>

Faranmidahn smiles and bows her head, "And you as well. Have a good night!" she returns, waving as she straightens anew. Zephyr gives a final wave, then cuddles into the folds of her cloak. The little Knight ponders the gestures, seeming a mite puzzled by them, but, not recognizing them as any particular spell, she chalks it up as something to ask about later.

Meanwhile, she wishes the Mul'niessa well and reaches for the coup de grace on her cup.

Tonight was a good night for new friends!

ARYIA
This mul is built lithe and quick, body honed to be its own weapon. She doesn't stand too terribly tall, yet her stature doesn't help with how she squirrels herself away.

Heavy scarring lines every inch of exposed dark colored flesh, that almost a dim grey. Her face shows youth, yet her milky eyes betray a hard life were her self not evidence enough. Moon colored hair comes down to just past her shoulders, though it a damaged and a tangled mess. The entire front of her throat is a mass of scarring, deep wounds from long past.

Attire wise, she doesn't have much. A simple, somewhat new looking long sleeved tunic and pants, coupled with some nice looking dark blue boots that have yet to be broken in. Underneath the sleeves are leather cords that press against muscled arms.

FARANMIDAHN
A tallish Lucht about 3'3" with a wide, heart shaped face of moon-eyed countenance, she bears the marks of an albino, with skin a pinkish cream, and pate of full, ankle length hair of ivory and bone. Her eyes are a peculiar shade of rose beneath somewhat thick ivory brows, with long silvery lashes, to which she's added two matching rows of round tourmaline settings starting at her brow and tapering down her cheeks to her jawline. Like her people, she prefers to feel the ground beneath her bare feet, though she's manifested the Clydesdale like shag of ivory more uncommon than unheard of among her people. Her voice is high and light enough to be almost troublingly cute when she intends to be anything but, though her posture is straight and proud.

She's taken her spider affectation to a functional extreme, probably more due to a certain amount of reality checks than a true forbearance of eccentricity. Black spiderweb lace sheaths her limbs, emerging from the sculpted black kilted breastplate; an embossed sigil of violet, lavender and green proclaims her to be of the Order of the Purple Rose from the left of her heart, framed by an intricate spiderweb of inlaid silver that expand outward in random sparsity around the armor. Over this, a matching, sculpted broach pins a violet, web-embroidered cloak to her shoulders. A fluted helm matching her armor is completed by a visor of evenly spaced bars that, when it is worn, adds shadow enough to aid the suggestion of spiders' eyes her jewerly is meant to project. Silver traceries of asymetrical webs bring contrast to the black,scalloped poleyns that protect her knees.

At the right side of her waist is a comparitively long sword for her stature, blackened steel with a red hourglass on the pear-shaped pommel, rests in a lacquered sheath opposite an array of pouches that no doubt contain an array of adventurer's tools, while a matching Lucht Traveler's blade is strapped to her left thigh. Occaisionally riding a baldric accomodated through some trick of her cloak is what might be a Lucht Siuil greatsword, quillion tips and pommel tempered and polished to an iridescent blue-violet and carved into blooming roses.

On many occasions, she has a round, white spider about the size of a human fist covered in white fluffiness riding about her shoulders, or sometimes riding in her hair when her helm is absent. Similarly, she travels with a glossy black Huntsman spider about the size of a Well fed Mastiff, clad in silver studded glossy leather barding, and full knightly tack as well as curious earth hued wrappings around the center four of his legs.

THURID
This striking Jotun woman stands just over seven feet tall, barefoot. She has a mane of straw-coloured hair, that reaches down to the center of her back. It is tied into a multitude of braids on the left hand side, but allowed to fall freely on the right. She has piercingly bright light grey eyes with long pale lashes. She has slightly thick brows, a shade darker than her hair. Her cheekbones are high, and her jaw is somewhat strong, but her face retains a feminine set by virtue of a relatively small nose and full lips. She has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, and the faintest laugh lines etched into her features.

She has pale skin, but it features the heavy freckling and faint redness of being sun-kissed regardless, especially on her shoulders and forearms. She has a chiselled, muscular body, hard toned flesh highlighted with the valleys the muscles form where they meet across her back and shoulders. A six pack on her abdomen, and powerful thighs and calfs. She has somewhat broad hips and a modest bust- for her impressive height- and callused hands speaking of hard work, or martial expertise.

She wears a simple outfit of brown leather. The top is sleeveless, and stops just below her sternum, and is laced tight across her bust, leaving her powerful arms and chiselled belly on display. This is complimented by a skirt of pleated leather plates which cover her upper thighs, but leave the rest of her legs on display also. She wears a pair of bicep bands on her upper arms, also made of brown leather, as well as a pair of bracers about her wrists.

The outfit is completed with a pair of sturdy leather walking boots, and the large Maul of Angoron hanging from a simple chain about her neck, both maul and chain in cast iron.