Art and Juice

Lower Trades/Goblintown Divide, Retzner Estate, Noon

The background noise of the city is a thrum of mercantilism, conversation, and things clanging and crashing in the distance. Down the road was the cramped and tight commodes of Goblintown, and up the road shows the start of workshops spilling out into the street with wares being smithed and peddled. And right between that divide is a fair, slim abode. Two stories tall with no side alleys, a small, knee high iron gate that leads to a well used front door.

Sitting in the grey and cloudy day underneath the awning on a chair was the resident, a human man in his late thirties. Leaning back in his chair with a tank top and shorts on, a copy of the Tribune held out before him. It's hot outside, but the shade was nice and cool.

The Goblin made her way slowly, getting distracted by the many activities going on in Goblintown. Despite being a Gobbo, she seemed quite amazed by the industriousness the people in this section of the city. Clad in a pale yellow summer dress, and shaded by a hat with a very wide rim, Simony stuck to the shady side of the street, moving from awning to overhang to umbrella to awning.

She pauses at the iron gate, and clears her throat. "Warrick? May I come in?"

Warrick is caught in between turning a page, him looking up and perking. "Ah, Simony," he greets, getting to his feet while folding his newspaper. Two steps gets him to the gate, and the lockless latch is undone. He opens the gate. "Of course. Good to see you. Would you like to come inside?"

Simony is quickly in the gate, and she smiles. "Hello Warrick, it is good to see you. How have you been? And I would be happy to go inside." Her hat is removed, revealing hair that has been trimmed more evenly, and no longer stands up, its length pulling it down. "The city can get so muggy at times."

Warrick chuckles at that, him reaching out as she steps closer to give her a brief side hug. "It certainly can. The haircut looks good," he comments, his own undercut starting to grow out a bit much as its flopped off to one side. He steps up to the door, opening and holding it for Simony to get inside. "Been alright, I think. After Fort Lancing... I figured I'd be a bit worse off due to the horrors, but instead I feel... it sounds silly, but proud for delivering justice for my fellows."

The door opens into a living room, a fairly large couch and several chairs line the place with a coffee table. To the back, a large walkway to a dining room with a square table, and filling out the rest of it was a kitchen in the back that had a backdoor that spills into a small back yard. A set of stairs to the immediate left go up several steps to a landing before immediately going upwards.

However, this place was densely decorated. Paintings and embroidery hung upon the walls. Of the city landscape, depictions of a younger Warrick, a young woman with black hair and bright green eyes, a small child between them, and various other people, folks, animals, flowers, so on and so forth. It's very homely. "Feel free to sit anywhere. You want anything to drink? I got coffee, beer, tea, juice, water..." he offers.

She goes still briefly at the hug, before it's returned in spades, The Goblin squeezing mightily (for someone her size). "I used to have fairly long hair, I took scissors to it before leaving home, I was very angry back then. I'm no hair cutter... at least, not one you should ever pay money to." Simony giggles lightly, "Thanks! It's growing out and I had it trimmed and styled up a little." Her grins broadens. "Your hair's getting there too, in length."

There's a momentarily look of sadness in her eyes, and she squeezes at Warrick once more. "It is not silly. It is brave enough to face unknown horrors, but braver still battling such horrors as well as the ones made up in one's mind. You should be proud, I know they would appreciate it. They will be remembered, and deservedly so, and to have their spirits laid to rest is all the better." Standing on tiptoe, Simony manages to pat Warrick's back in a camaraderie-like fashion.

"As before, I was proud to stand at your side, and your back, fighting. We all were forged in fire, and made it out alive. Luck and skill were with us."

There may have been more, but the Gobbo is distracted by the house interior. She giggles and aws at the younger Warrick. "Still handsome.", she says, eyeing him a moment. "Oh. That must be Cynthia, so wee!" Simony goes silent then, and hugs at Warrick a third time.

"I'm sorry." She falls quiet then, eyes taking in the rest of the décor. "Oh uhm. Juice, please?"

Warrick simply chuckles at being hugged back with fervor. He doesn't return it as fiercely, but instead opts to pat Simony on the back. It's the most affection he's prone to give anyways, but hey, progress. "Yeah. Probably going to have to soon," he comments about his hair.

He simply nods. "They would be, and with you all I can say with certainty those lost and those still around would say they can rest easier that I am in good hands," Warrick bows his head, a hand touching the tattooed symbol of Serriel on his arm.

Properly inside now, the door clicks shut. It's cooler in here, perhaps artificially so. Within these walls, it's obvious that the man's own walls drop significantly, as he barks a short laughter at that. "Thanks. And yes, she's certainly grown now, but she'll always be small to me," he hums, walking back towards the kitchen after getting his third hug. A stops a step. "Sorry? For what?" he muses, slipping past and behind a wall as cabinets are opened. There's some pouring, and he returns with two glasses full of apple juice. One is offered to Simony.

Taking in the décor, it's clear whoever made all of these did these as studies, as well for pleasure. A number are views from the front window of the living room to the street outside, showing how the divide has progressed over the years. Another one of a rendition of Serriel's holy symbol, but with lances instead of spears. Each piece is signed PR in the bottom corner.

"Serriel looks good on you.", Simony says softly. "May she guide your path, and your blade, always." The Gobbo takes a moment to fan herself, letting out a little sigh. "Hmm, it is nice and cool in here. Your house feels very much like a home." At the mention of 'why sorry', Simony sighs. "For your loss."

As he ducks out to pour refreshments, the Gobbo eyes the many different studies and images, the rendition of Serriel holding her attention for a long while. She turns and accepts the apple juice with a grin, and it is very quickly drained. "Aah, thank you very much! That hits the spot."

Warrick pauses, bowing his head. "Thank you. The Maiden of Battle has helped my family and I for quite some time. And, thank you. There's a family of gobbers and nars that specialize in artificery. I had installed some heating and cooling about a decade ago."

His gaze drifts to one of the paintings, one of the woman with green eyes. "It's in the past. Persi is at peace, and I have made peace with her passing. She was the very artistic sort, and was very passionate about whatever she had set her mind to."

He gestures broadly to the walls, smiling. "Her painting stint was long and fierce."

After returning, he opts to sit on the couch, crossing his legs as he sets his own glass on the coffee table. "You're very welcome," he mentions, looking at what Simony was inspecting. "Ah. That one. Persephone thought it was strange that the Maiden used lances, but her symbol was spears. She decided to sketch up her own. Which turned into a drawing. Which ended up on a canvas and ended up being painted."

The Goblin giggles lightly, and nods. "The muse is like that, she will smack you upside the head and demand you paint or draw, or dance, or sing. She will drive you hard. Then she'll be cold, and tease you, leave you hanging." Simony lets out a slow sigh. "Long and fierce. She filled a home with love in her paintings."

Rubbing at her chin, the Gobbo settles on the couch beside Warrick. "It's a good adjustment to Serriel's symbol. If you talk to her, you should ask her what she thinks. Who knows, perhaps she would like the suggestion? Perhaps she meant it to be lances, and whomever designed it here on Ea messed it up?"

She goes quiet for a time, her gazes taking on a long distant stare. "So how are you faring? I don't just mean... the fort but everything.", the Goblin wonders.

Warrick smiles and chuckles. His expression softens lightly, taking on a more wistful look. "She did often praise and chew out the Muse for it. Near the end, she knew her candle was nearly spent. She grew more ill with no cure, so she painted and painted..." He points to a painting above the front doorway. It's simple, a white canvas with a simple red heart in the center. Though, the heart was instead drawn with imposed handprints. "That's the last thing she made."

Despite the heaviness of the topic, he relays it with an ease. As he has accepted the circumstance and moved on from the grieving process. So easy a laugh comes him then. "Just talk to the Maiden," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Need I remind you, Miss Temperance, not everyone can beck and call their patron. But-" he holds up a finger. "-I think Serriel doesn't mind the change at all. It would be funny if it was a misinterpretation, and she kept it, as it was civilization's result."

There's the silence, him taking the moment to sip on the juice. "... I'm... okay," he says quietly. "There are hard days of course, but I think I'm... I'm okay. Been getting out more. Making new friends," he mentions, gesturing at Simony.

Squinting, Simony dismounts the couch, and moves to stand under the painting, peering up at it. "It is beautiful.", she says with a catch in her voice. Perhaps too used to having sleeves, the Gobbo rubs her eyes on her arms. She returns to the couch presently, and settles back down.

She grins and snorts at Warrick. "Yes, just talk to her. I mean, I pray to Navos. But sometimes I talk to him. It gives me comfort. They listen, you know. They may not answer, like they might to a prayer, but they listen. So ... give it a try. Heck... if you get another tattoo, try Persephone's vision of it."

Nodding to his suggestion of it being a funny misinterpretation. "Just imagine being the first person that a god spoke to? Okay, I need this to look like a lance... oh, okay, that's close enough..." She giggles lightly, and it trails off. "That's positive, getting out and making new friends. Hopefully not on a guild mission, but maybe... just bumping into someone in the market, or getting into casual conversation in the Fernwood... meeting people like that?"

"It is," Warrick agrees. The painting, upon closer inspection, is made of nothing but handprints. A thin, dainty one. A larger one. And a wee one. A family painting, and incredibly fitting for it to be displayed as the last thing seen walking out of the house.

There's a laugh. "Yes, I know Serriel listens, and I pray fairly often. Honestly, I had been considering getting Persephone's version done on my other arm, but I didn't have the time when I was in the guard."

The man snickers, nodding once before his face sobers some. "Yeah. It's more running into friends out and about, or going out to the TarRaCe or the Fern with them and drinking. Just... relaxing." He shakes his head. "Just a few friends I've made thus far, hanging out with them. You, Schara, to name a couple."

"It's also a very moving painting. Very powerful."

The Gobbo rubs at her eyes again momentarily. "Someone's cutting onions nearby.", she comments with a smile. "Well. You have time now! Er, at least, I think you do? You know... the lot of us, who went through that fort... we should get a shared tattoo. A forever reminder of the things we lost, but also found. What do you think of that?"

Simony nods again. "Oh, that's good. Uhm... if you wanted to hang out, I'd be happy to, whenever you like. I enjoy our time together. Like now."

Warrick chuckles softly, reaching over to pat Simony on the shoulder. "Happens occasionally," he smiles, pulling his hand away to brush a hand against the corner of one of his eyes. Seems like he too wasn't immune from the onions. "... fair point. I could probably get it done."

There's a beat to ponder that idea. "May... be? Honestly, I was going to invite the Lancing party over for drinks, maybe we can pitch it then? Though, I don't know how well you can get a tattoo on Tlanexhuani!" he laughs.

The man blinks. Looks down at this cup. "... we can certainly do that," he awkwardly agrees. "I, uh, sorry, am kind of bad at arranging things..."

She giggles and nods. "Well, I am sure we can think of something. Perhaps we can have a rock carved with what we choose for the tattoo, and he can add it to the others he has on display. I think he might be quite chuffed to bear it. Yes, we should definitely, and enthusiastically, pitch it to the others." Simony nods again, "Though whatever comes of our suggestion, I think you might consider another tattoo of Serriel. You're seem a little naked on the one side there, when one can see your arms."

The Gobbo pats at his arm, "That's okay, I understand. Perhaps I could visit every so often, see if you're up to hanging out, and then you can say yes or no, and not have to feel awkward for not arranging something?"

Warrick chuckles. "That or perhaps a metal plate for his armor," he suggests in addition. "But very well, we can come up with something. I will need to reach out and find a time everyone can come over."

He looks at his tattoo. "... I will take it under consideration," he says in a manner that belies he's going to seriously ponder it.

He looks to Simony briefly before thumbing the lip of his cup. "... would it be strange to admit that I sort of forgot how to do these things?" he sheepishly admits. "I am well with you visiting or just dropping by to see if we can go do something. Cinny is here fairly often. If no one answers, then we're both out."

"Oh yes, a metal plate would be appropriate too. I should be available for the next little while. I doubt I will be required for anything that I can't get out of for at least a few hours, for a gathering." Simony rubs at a cheek. "You will?" She smiles brightly. "Could I come and watch? I'm curious about the whole... shoving pigmentation under the skin idea." The Gobbo gestures with a pale hand.

"I'm kind of bland, I think. Maybe a colourful tattoo to spice things up. Though, I think I'd take your idea, and have it on a spot which I can hide under every day clothing."

His question causes her to blink, and a thoughtful expression clouds her face. "No, I don't think that's strange at all. It's a skill, like swordwork or stitching people up. Without practice, you get rusty."

She nods at his agreement to letting her pop on by from time to time. "I'll slide a little note under the door if you're not about, just to say hello and how're ya doing, yeah, if you're not here."

Warrick quirks a brow. "Sure, I don't see why not, last one I got people from the Watch came with me," he shrugs. "To be honest, you might find it interesting. I can see you putting some of the art you make on yourself. Something colorful may suit you well. Perhaps on the back or a shoulder. The leg too is a good spot."

A bit of relief shows on his face as he sighs. "It is one I am not as good at anymore. And probably won't be for a long while. But, I think that arrangement will suffice. It will be nice to have more... friends over. Not many do come over save for officials, Vardamites, my old Captain and Cinny's friend."

Simony cants her head slightly. "My own art?" This idea seems to intrigue her. "Though, uhmm, I don't see how I could put it on my back myself, though, I guess with someone else's assistance it can be done. But I can reach a lot of spots easily. I..." She rubs at her chin. "I could see it as a means of painting people... kinda permanently."

"I'm going to look into it, and I will definitely be curious to see it done."

The Gobbo nods a little, "Yeah, it's nice to have visitors. I have but a single room that I could dare call my own, and it's fun when Aelwyn visits. I mean, he is usually delivering something to the Monastery, sometimes even stuff for me. But I like that he takes a bit of time to chat. Even if he is an ass sometimes." She laughs gently at that.

"You can give a tattoo artist your piece, and they can put it into flesh. I'm certain there exists magic to undo it," Warrick explains. "It sounds like something you'd enjoy doing for others, honestly."

The man chuckles. "I can... see that. He is a... rather independent man," he agrees on the down low. "The Monastery is quite a trek. Though, if you're going to come here for me, I might as well come up there visit you. It's only fair."

"It does sound like fun. And there's a... feeling, thinking about people wearing something I made. There's an appeal, like people hanging my art in their homes."

She snorts. "He's a something, that's for certain." Simony giggles lightly, and pats her stomach. "I don't mind the journey. I need the exercise, for one, and it's quite beautiful too. When the weather is good. Some days, no one should be up on that pathway, too dangerous."

Warrick smiles. "There is certainly an appeal to it. I'm certain Persi had that same feeling when we hang her art up." His eyes drift to the dining room adjacent. "... well, there is always empty space on the walls. If you have any spare art, I'd be glad to hang some up here. I think Persi would like that I had a friend's works up."

He takes a drink, but if only to conceal his smirk. "Something for sure. But, yes, it is good exercise. But that road is... one of the least favorite guard rotations in the Watch. Bad weather makes it terrible. And gods forbid a cart gets loose."

"R.really? I have a few that she'd like, I think. One of you, another of Cynthia. And I could paint a few landscapes. You've got a great home here, and I think some landscapes can take your mind off the city around you." Simony seems enthusiastic about adding to the collection already on the walls.

"People are bringing carts up that road? Goodness... that could be bad... not something I want to run into... or have run into me, as I'm trying to get back to the monastery."

Warrick chuckles at his friend's enthusiasm. "That sounds like a good plan," he agrees. "I can pick some up when I go visit you."

He sighs. "Yes. The noble district is up there, so many goods are carted to and fro. It's... not a good place to be if it happens, but thankfully if you step aside while the cart goes, it either will crash on the bend at the bottom or ramp off into the city below, which it usually crashes in the back yard of the Angoron temple. Which they love it when that happens. Usually there isn't any passengers on those, just goods."

"Still, I can't imagine an Angorite enjoying a cart full of free stuff in the face! His buddies might, though!" Simony laughs at the idea. "Hmm, you'd think they would find some way to prevent that. Hrrrrrrmmmmm." Her expression exhibits a deep delve into thought. The Gobbo blinks after a moment.

"Oh? I need to get painting some more then, shouldn't I?" Not that she needed an excuse to paint, but always good to have a quick, easy made excuse. "I will do a few landscapes, some abstract stuff, a few silly things, and .. " She looks particularly pleased. "No. First one, I want to have you and Cynthia sit here, on the couch, surrounded by all these things. I'd like to paint you both. It's the perfect little scene!"

<OOC> Warrick says, "I still have an hour left, but I know the perfect wrap for whenever you're ready"

Warrick snickers. "It's more the sudden destruction they like. Also they all fall over themselves to clean it up. Strength contest," he explains. "Perhaps the city needs to figure something about that. Perhaps... hm. Maybe I can write a letter to the city's planning council..."

He ponders while Simony ponders aloud. But her suggestion gets him to blink back to reality. He takes that in. And a very rare sight crests the tired man's face. He lights up at the prospect. "... I would enjoy that very much," he answers. "Cinny would too. Thank you."

"Still, that one guy taking it in the face should be annoyed. If he lives." She giggles at that. "Now I'm imagining how slowly the cleanup would be. Each taking their time to flex and show off their muscles. And the Korites besides themselves wanting to help out, just to out lift the Angorites." Simony snorts, and sighs. "Silly clerics."

She flexes a bare arm, turning her hand back and forth to generate some movement in the little muscle bulge. "Eventually they will know who the strongest really is. Kor? Just war and chaos. Angoron? Competition and valor. Navos? While he has a history leaning, and thirst for knowledge... his purview is one of self-perfection." She crosses her arms, grinning brightly before breaking out into laughter. "I really want to say that in front of some Angorites and Korites one day, just to see their faces scrunch up."

She nods then, looking quite happy at his easy, and cheerful agreement. "Okay, so we can pick a day some day soon, and it'll just be a regular visit, I'll paint, we call catch up, and maybe have dinner after. Easy, comfortable day."

With the idea of the two gods of battle showing off, as well as the wee Temperance showing off as well, Warrick can't help but laugh. "Silly clerics indeed," he repeats, bemused as he points at her, including the gobbo in it. "I'm sure you can stump them for a moment with that!"

He nods sharply. "We can do that. It sounds like a plan to me. Perhaps this weekend? Cinny won't have school then. And she usually sleeps in on those days."

A reminder crosses his face, and he cranes his head up. Warrick clears his throat, and speaks loudly up at the ceiling. "Cynthia!" he announces. "You're going to be late meeting Lomi!"

There's wood creaking above, as if someone was getting out of a bed. Then- scrabbling around as drawers and chests were being thrown open. "Oh crap crap crap crap--!" muffled jabbering comes from above. <Goblin-Talk>