"Yeah, I know." He sighed wistfully. Clover adjusted his feather-top hat in between his flattened ears, and got to his feet before the tumbling wood and smoking fire. His legs wobbled there for a few moments before he regained himself, cleared his throat rather obnoxiously loud, and turned his back on the rubble. The fuel for the fire was beginning to burn away, leaving nothing but a few flames to eat their way through the last bits of Clover's home on wheels.
"That's it, ain't it?" Clover's remarks seemed to carry that same manic sarcasm he had had before. "No worth cryin' over spilt ale, right? Won't do us any good!" He began to yank what little scraps he could salvage from the pieces of the wagon that had been launched in battle. A couple wheels, three half-boards, and a few trinkets, which he quickly pocketed. Clover heaved the wooden pieces through the mud and stone and formed a circle around the now mild fumes and sat down leaned against the short stack of wheels.
"Anyone want a roasted apple?" He pulled a fruit or two from his bag and inspected them keenly. "I've never really much of a taste for the things, I'll be off hand-fishin' in the stream soon to see if they're anythin' worthwhile. Come sit, we haven't even gotten to know each other, and from the looks of it, we'll be on the road side-by-side for some time!"
Oru took a deep breath, a glance at Sparrow, and hesitantly caught an orange as it was thrown at him. He trailed over and took a seat on the opposite side of the fire from Clover. He leaned to the side and watched the cat begin to strum his lute and sing loudly and passionately, and admittedly, with a fair singing voice. No, a really good one, actually.
"You know all this smoke is awful for the woodland creatures and their homes in the trees, right?"
"Won't last for much longer!" Clover sang a little two joyfully. "You're too worried~"
Oru furrowed his brow. "I think I'm just the right amount of worried. Imagine a squirrel sitting in the tree, right there, breathing in the fumes."
"Aha, squirrel! That's a great idea! I'll go catchin' one for myself soon."
"No! Just go foraging!"
Clover's lute playing paused with a grotesque sound of the chords for a moment. "I'm literally a strict carnivore, only-meat, all the time. And I ain't tryin' to go vulture again and pick the remains off these gnolls, either. I'm huntin' your adorable innocent squirrels whether you like it or not." And off he was again, merrily playing at his prized instrument.
This was going to be a long journey.
"Yeah, I know." He sighed wistfully. Clover adjusted his feather-top hat in between his flattened ears, and got to his feet before the tumbling wood and smoking fire. His legs wobbled there for a few moments before he regained himself, cleared his throat rather obnoxiously loud, and turned his back on the rubble. The fuel for the fire was beginning to burn away, leaving nothing but a few flames to eat their way through the last bits of Clover's home on wheels.
"That's it, ain't it?" Clover's remarks seemed to carry that same manic sarcasm he had had before. "No worth cryin' over spilt ale, right? Won't do us any good!" He began to yank what little scraps he could salvage from the pieces of the wagon that had been launched in battle. A couple wheels, three half-boards, and a few trinkets, which he quickly pocketed. Clover heaved the wooden pieces through the mud and stone and formed a circle around the now mild fumes and sat down leaned against the short stack of wheels.
"Anyone want a roasted apple?" He pulled a fruit or two from his bag and inspected them keenly. "I've never really much of a taste for the things, I'll be off hand-fishin' in the stream soon to see if they're anythin' worthwhile. Come sit, we haven't even gotten to know each other, and from the looks of it, we'll be on the road side-by-side for some time!"
Oru took a deep breath, a glance at Sparrow, and hesitantly caught an orange as it was thrown at him. He trailed over and took a seat on the opposite side of the fire from Clover. He leaned to the side and watched the cat begin to strum his lute and sing loudly and passionately, and admittedly, with a fair singing voice. No, a really good one, actually.
"You know all this smoke is awful for the woodland creatures and their homes in the trees, right?"
"Won't last for much longer!" Clover sang a little two joyfully. "You're too worried~"
Oru furrowed his brow. "I think I'm just the right amount of worried. Imagine a squirrel sitting in the tree, right there, breathing in the fumes."
"Aha, squirrel! That's a great idea! I'll go catchin' one for myself soon."
"No! Just go foraging!"
Clover's lute playing paused with a grotesque sound of the chords for a moment. "I'm literally a strict carnivore, only-meat, all the time. And I ain't tryin' to go vulture again and pick the remains off these gnolls, either. I'm huntin' your adorable innocent squirrels whether you like it or not." And off he was again, merrily playing at his prized instrument.
This was going to be a long journey.
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
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|
Sparrow couldn’t help but grin a little at the interaction between the tabaxi and the elf. Hopefully they’d mellow out and get along at some point, though, otherwise this side-by-side business was going to get pretty testy after a little while.
She accepted an apple from Clover, sitting about midway between the two and listening to the tabaxi sing and play. He sounded lovely. Much nicer than anything she’d ever heard before. The longer she listened the farther away her thoughts wandered, whisked off on the melody to some foreign land of adventure and glory.
Gradually she drifted back to the forest, sitting around the smoldering remains of the caravan with her two new traveling companions. With an inward sigh she took a bite of her apple then let it rest in her lap, pulling her handkerchief from where she’d stuffed it in her belt. It had ripped a little, but not too badly; she tried to pull up her hair again but couldn’t seem to get it to stay bound up in the handkerchief.
Well, she supposed she didn’t need it at the moment, anyway. Neither Oru nor Clover knew the significance of her hair’s peculiar shade—or lack thereof—and until they got into the city it really wouldn’t make much difference.
So she settled with braiding her hair sloppily back, just to get it out of her face, and wound the ripped handkerchief around her forearm, over a cut she’d secured during the skirmish.
Lark will never believe this, she thought, looking at the others a little incredulously. She’ll probably think I made gnolls up to scare her.
There was a momentary pause in Clover’s music, perhaps as he was about to change tunes or begin a new song; Sparrow took her chance, piping up and asking, “Where did you learn to sing like that? I’ve never heard the like.”
She’d ask about that curious instrument of his later. In her experience—that was, her knowledge of Graeyorn’s experiences—people could get very funny when asked about their magical possessions. She supposed it was because they’d rather have the element of surprise on their side should they need to suddenly make use of their magic-enhanced cloak or whatever it might be.
Hoping to stay in the tabaxi's good favor she added, quite honestly, "You have a gift. I'm surprised you're not playing for the King."
Sparrow couldn’t help but grin a little at the interaction between the tabaxi and the elf. Hopefully they’d mellow out and get along at some point, though, otherwise this side-by-side business was going to get pretty testy after a little while.
She accepted an apple from Clover, sitting about midway between the two and listening to the tabaxi sing and play. He sounded lovely. Much nicer than anything she’d ever heard before. The longer she listened the farther away her thoughts wandered, whisked off on the melody to some foreign land of adventure and glory.
Gradually she drifted back to the forest, sitting around the smoldering remains of the caravan with her two new traveling companions. With an inward sigh she took a bite of her apple then let it rest in her lap, pulling her handkerchief from where she’d stuffed it in her belt. It had ripped a little, but not too badly; she tried to pull up her hair again but couldn’t seem to get it to stay bound up in the handkerchief.
Well, she supposed she didn’t need it at the moment, anyway. Neither Oru nor Clover knew the significance of her hair’s peculiar shade—or lack thereof—and until they got into the city it really wouldn’t make much difference.
So she settled with braiding her hair sloppily back, just to get it out of her face, and wound the ripped handkerchief around her forearm, over a cut she’d secured during the skirmish.
Lark will never believe this, she thought, looking at the others a little incredulously. She’ll probably think I made gnolls up to scare her.
There was a momentary pause in Clover’s music, perhaps as he was about to change tunes or begin a new song; Sparrow took her chance, piping up and asking, “Where did you learn to sing like that? I’ve never heard the like.”
She’d ask about that curious instrument of his later. In her experience—that was, her knowledge of Graeyorn’s experiences—people could get very funny when asked about their magical possessions. She supposed it was because they’d rather have the element of surprise on their side should they need to suddenly make use of their magic-enhanced cloak or whatever it might be.
Hoping to stay in the tabaxi's good favor she added, quite honestly, "You have a gift. I'm surprised you're not playing for the King."
Oru watched Clover, then the flames and his eyes began to shift between the two. With a defeated sigh he scooted closer to Sparrow - clearly more comfortable around her than anywhere near Clover - and rested his fair-toned head passively on his gentle and near delicate-looking hands. He watched Sparrow dare to pry some conversation out of the annoying fluff, and hesitantly lifted his eyes and ears to listen to whatever he had to say. It was at least better than blowing at leaves floating to the ground from trees nearby drifting in the wind.
Clover's ear-to-ear grin returned upon the remark, and once his lute was tuned, he played a few chords to demonstrate his expertise once more and explain to Sparrow. The rambunctious tabaxi hopped up to his feet with a newfound pep in his step, set down the instrument careful on his pair of wagon wheels, and adjusted his hat upon his head to sit just perfectly between the ears. "Hahaha, now here's a bloke with a care for art!"
"Oh, goodness, why." Oru shook his head and immediately regretted his decision to watch the ramble. He buried his face into his palms, though one eye was noticeably poking out from in between his fingers. Watching him make a fool out of himself would be fun, too.
"Now, I was just a little lad some time and time ago, " Clover hummed merrily and lowered his hand to imitate a far smaller height. "And when I was, oh, lords and ladies! You should have met my parents!
"My whole family, they sang and danced and danced and sang the nights away and shouted to the heavens when they awoke and found they weren't dead!
"And they made song about their life, and they made song about their friendships, and oh my people made song about mourn and eve and oh how they sung and sung about love and laughter and loyalty. For, what else is there to do when you're a tribe living on the outskirts of an uninhabited tropical beach?"
Clover waved his hands into the sky and vibrantly motioned to aid his great tale. He acted and jumped and hollered with glee at every word that rolled off his tongue. "And one fine day as we were a'beatin' on the drums and strumming horsehair kalimbas, guess what are lil' ole' nomadic tribe stumbled across? A troupe! A jolly band it was! The entertainers and circusmen were traversing every grain of dirt to the ends of the realm and happened to fall upon our kind. And they joined in our stories and hymns and rhymes, they did! By the end of the day, I told my parents that I'd like to go and venture off with these ecstatic performers! I said 'O, mom and pa, I ne'er thought in all my days that I would run out of stories to tell and lore to share. I've got to go o'er the mountains and hills and rivers and find more for you all!
"And so they said, 'You crazy kitten, why aren't you gone off with them already!' And so gone I was, into the distance at the tail end of the greatest teachers you could ever ask for. They practically raised me from then, and I spent my glory days in a bardic guild full of talented minstrels, theatrics, and acrobats alike. We were knowledge hoarders, we were! We'd exchange gold for story and silver for song! It was our life to live in the creative wondrous world of music! Oh and there I learned, 'till a dragon scooped up my poor young rump and dropped my off in her lair of a trillion coins.
"I certainly wasn't too at home, 'till the dragon came moseying about and telling me of all her findings in the great treasure trove she possessed. Every minted little cut of metal, every goblet and fork, every dagger and sword and crossbow had itself a story. It was like a never-ending library, each day I learned of a new story. I was taught the ways of draconic legend, learned meself a language of the greatest beasts to ever live, and I left unscathed with a prize in my hand for proving to my final and third mentor that I had the guts, brains, and vocal cords to brave the world."
Clover pulled his fine wooden lute up to his claws and gingerly brushed over the side. There were indeed a few runic engravings around the strings, which on closer inspection, glowed and glittered a vibrant golden hue when played. "Dragons are the most magical in the world too, are they not? It's no wonder I learned enchantments of the greatest of the greats and more under her care! Sure, I went hungry a couple times and I had to worry about being turned into a kebab every morning, but isn't it just worth it? And so then, I scored myself a ride from a music-loving town, found meself a mule companion, and started off into the world and towards the capital in hopes of hitting the top. And from the looks of the horizon, we're halfway there."
Clover fell back against the wheels excitedly, hardly able to stop, but his curiosity was much stronger than his need to storytell. "So, what's your history, Miss Sparrow?"
Oru watched Clover, then the flames and his eyes began to shift between the two. With a defeated sigh he scooted closer to Sparrow - clearly more comfortable around her than anywhere near Clover - and rested his fair-toned head passively on his gentle and near delicate-looking hands. He watched Sparrow dare to pry some conversation out of the annoying fluff, and hesitantly lifted his eyes and ears to listen to whatever he had to say. It was at least better than blowing at leaves floating to the ground from trees nearby drifting in the wind.
Clover's ear-to-ear grin returned upon the remark, and once his lute was tuned, he played a few chords to demonstrate his expertise once more and explain to Sparrow. The rambunctious tabaxi hopped up to his feet with a newfound pep in his step, set down the instrument careful on his pair of wagon wheels, and adjusted his hat upon his head to sit just perfectly between the ears. "Hahaha, now here's a bloke with a care for art!"
"Oh, goodness, why." Oru shook his head and immediately regretted his decision to watch the ramble. He buried his face into his palms, though one eye was noticeably poking out from in between his fingers. Watching him make a fool out of himself would be fun, too.
"Now, I was just a little lad some time and time ago, " Clover hummed merrily and lowered his hand to imitate a far smaller height. "And when I was, oh, lords and ladies! You should have met my parents!
"My whole family, they sang and danced and danced and sang the nights away and shouted to the heavens when they awoke and found they weren't dead!
"And they made song about their life, and they made song about their friendships, and oh my people made song about mourn and eve and oh how they sung and sung about love and laughter and loyalty. For, what else is there to do when you're a tribe living on the outskirts of an uninhabited tropical beach?"
Clover waved his hands into the sky and vibrantly motioned to aid his great tale. He acted and jumped and hollered with glee at every word that rolled off his tongue. "And one fine day as we were a'beatin' on the drums and strumming horsehair kalimbas, guess what are lil' ole' nomadic tribe stumbled across? A troupe! A jolly band it was! The entertainers and circusmen were traversing every grain of dirt to the ends of the realm and happened to fall upon our kind. And they joined in our stories and hymns and rhymes, they did! By the end of the day, I told my parents that I'd like to go and venture off with these ecstatic performers! I said 'O, mom and pa, I ne'er thought in all my days that I would run out of stories to tell and lore to share. I've got to go o'er the mountains and hills and rivers and find more for you all!
"And so they said, 'You crazy kitten, why aren't you gone off with them already!' And so gone I was, into the distance at the tail end of the greatest teachers you could ever ask for. They practically raised me from then, and I spent my glory days in a bardic guild full of talented minstrels, theatrics, and acrobats alike. We were knowledge hoarders, we were! We'd exchange gold for story and silver for song! It was our life to live in the creative wondrous world of music! Oh and there I learned, 'till a dragon scooped up my poor young rump and dropped my off in her lair of a trillion coins.
"I certainly wasn't too at home, 'till the dragon came moseying about and telling me of all her findings in the great treasure trove she possessed. Every minted little cut of metal, every goblet and fork, every dagger and sword and crossbow had itself a story. It was like a never-ending library, each day I learned of a new story. I was taught the ways of draconic legend, learned meself a language of the greatest beasts to ever live, and I left unscathed with a prize in my hand for proving to my final and third mentor that I had the guts, brains, and vocal cords to brave the world."
Clover pulled his fine wooden lute up to his claws and gingerly brushed over the side. There were indeed a few runic engravings around the strings, which on closer inspection, glowed and glittered a vibrant golden hue when played. "Dragons are the most magical in the world too, are they not? It's no wonder I learned enchantments of the greatest of the greats and more under her care! Sure, I went hungry a couple times and I had to worry about being turned into a kebab every morning, but isn't it just worth it? And so then, I scored myself a ride from a music-loving town, found meself a mule companion, and started off into the world and towards the capital in hopes of hitting the top. And from the looks of the horizon, we're halfway there."
Clover fell back against the wheels excitedly, hardly able to stop, but his curiosity was much stronger than his need to storytell. "So, what's your history, Miss Sparrow?"
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
|
.......................
|
Clover’s recounting of his past soon had Sparrow beaming from ear to ear. Not that the story itself was funny, but Clover was so animated—she’d never seen anyone so enthusiastic about something. Whether or not everything he said was true or not, she enjoyed listening. The dragon bit was a little far-fetched to her, but she supposed he had to have gotten that fancy lute from somewhere… If he didn’t steal it or win it gambling, then she supposed the dragon story was a logical explanation. To some degree. By any account, his passion for storytelling was contagious and he soon had her rather enjoying herself.
When he finished, flopping down again and asking about her own history, Sparrow’s grin faltered slightly. She shrugged, glancing over at Oru—who had been watching Clover’s spectacle from behind his hands—and replying, “Well, it’s not much of a history...and it’s nowhere near as entertaining as yours, Clover, I’m afraid.”
All the same, she decided she might as well tell them; who knew, maybe she’d earn their sympathy and could trust them not to turn her in as soon as they reached Meirlheim.
“But, I suppose I owe it to you,” she sighed. She didn’t bother to stand up, knowing her story wouldn’t be animated at all so there was no need to make a play out of it. “Until two days ago, I’ve been a slave in Meirlheim. My sister and I both, we’ve been working in the house of a family named Kessel since before I can remember. The only reference to any time I have is when this happened.”
She flipped her braid of white hair, continuing, “It was the day of my tenth birthday, I know that for certain, because Graeyorn—he was the man we worked for—he said I was finally old enough for him to try some sort of experiment on. He’s always playing around with magic and alchemy and anything arcane. That day—I don’t recall exactly what he did, but he had me stand in the center of a lot of runes he’d drawn on the floor, there was a flash, and when I woke up my hair was white.”
She pulled her braid forward to peer at it. She had never quite decided whether she liked it or not. Lark said it was fetching, but...well. Sparrow was never sure.
“Anyway,” she went on, dropping the braid and tossing her apple from one hand to the other absently. “I’ve been there nine years since that day, and I’m fairly sure I was there for two years before it...in any case, I’ve been there nearly all my life. Two days ago I finally managed to run away, and I’ve been wandering around in these woods up until Clover let me ride with him. Though I don’t know how I managed to survive so long after what just happened—I had no idea such things existed, much less that I was traveling the same woods as they were.”
She paused a moment, looking down at her apple and scuffing the ground with one of her boots.
“I’m aiming on finding some treasure, somehow,” she admitted gradually. Saying it out loud made the whole idea seem silly, and she kept her eyes on the fruit in her hands as she spoke. “And when I’ve got enough I’ll go back and get my sister. Then we can both go free and do as we please.”
That familiar pang of doubt that had been plaguing her the last two days struck again, but she pushed it away, brow furrowing in determination. Looking up again, she managed a small smile and a shrug, finishing, “I suppose that’s about all there is to tell.”
She glanced at Oru, knowing he’d already explained to her how he ended up in Clover’s caravan; offering him another smile, she asked jokingly, “Anything you’d like to share? Seems to be your turn.”
Clover’s recounting of his past soon had Sparrow beaming from ear to ear. Not that the story itself was funny, but Clover was so animated—she’d never seen anyone so enthusiastic about something. Whether or not everything he said was true or not, she enjoyed listening. The dragon bit was a little far-fetched to her, but she supposed he had to have gotten that fancy lute from somewhere… If he didn’t steal it or win it gambling, then she supposed the dragon story was a logical explanation. To some degree. By any account, his passion for storytelling was contagious and he soon had her rather enjoying herself.
When he finished, flopping down again and asking about her own history, Sparrow’s grin faltered slightly. She shrugged, glancing over at Oru—who had been watching Clover’s spectacle from behind his hands—and replying, “Well, it’s not much of a history...and it’s nowhere near as entertaining as yours, Clover, I’m afraid.”
All the same, she decided she might as well tell them; who knew, maybe she’d earn their sympathy and could trust them not to turn her in as soon as they reached Meirlheim.
“But, I suppose I owe it to you,” she sighed. She didn’t bother to stand up, knowing her story wouldn’t be animated at all so there was no need to make a play out of it. “Until two days ago, I’ve been a slave in Meirlheim. My sister and I both, we’ve been working in the house of a family named Kessel since before I can remember. The only reference to any time I have is when this happened.”
She flipped her braid of white hair, continuing, “It was the day of my tenth birthday, I know that for certain, because Graeyorn—he was the man we worked for—he said I was finally old enough for him to try some sort of experiment on. He’s always playing around with magic and alchemy and anything arcane. That day—I don’t recall exactly what he did, but he had me stand in the center of a lot of runes he’d drawn on the floor, there was a flash, and when I woke up my hair was white.”
She pulled her braid forward to peer at it. She had never quite decided whether she liked it or not. Lark said it was fetching, but...well. Sparrow was never sure.
“Anyway,” she went on, dropping the braid and tossing her apple from one hand to the other absently. “I’ve been there nine years since that day, and I’m fairly sure I was there for two years before it...in any case, I’ve been there nearly all my life. Two days ago I finally managed to run away, and I’ve been wandering around in these woods up until Clover let me ride with him. Though I don’t know how I managed to survive so long after what just happened—I had no idea such things existed, much less that I was traveling the same woods as they were.”
She paused a moment, looking down at her apple and scuffing the ground with one of her boots.
“I’m aiming on finding some treasure, somehow,” she admitted gradually. Saying it out loud made the whole idea seem silly, and she kept her eyes on the fruit in her hands as she spoke. “And when I’ve got enough I’ll go back and get my sister. Then we can both go free and do as we please.”
That familiar pang of doubt that had been plaguing her the last two days struck again, but she pushed it away, brow furrowing in determination. Looking up again, she managed a small smile and a shrug, finishing, “I suppose that’s about all there is to tell.”
She glanced at Oru, knowing he’d already explained to her how he ended up in Clover’s caravan; offering him another smile, she asked jokingly, “Anything you’d like to share? Seems to be your turn.”
No matter the level of glamour the story possessed, Clover was watching and listening with such great interest that you could hardly tell that Sparrow was talking about her life as a slave and escapee. His eyes glimmered once she finished, his toothy smile returned, and he bumped Sparrow playfully on the shoulder in excitement. "Well, seems we're headed the right way! Treasure we shall find, dear Sparrow, and we'll all have our way with it. A great adventure, we'll have together, it shall be so much better than any drab life in a dirty old Meirlheim alleyway shack!" Before anyone could say anything in remark to him, the tabaxi turned all of his attention to the elf in the opportunity that he would learn even more about the world around him and receive more tales, great and spectacular or not.
Oru's head was lifted, mouth slightly agape at Sparrow's story. The reason was unclear; he didn't look surprised, per se, nor entirely in sorrow. More of his lack of emotional interest had been completely turned. He cared about what Sparrow had to say about her life. He blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I, not really, nothing special, I'm just a regular-"
"No such thing as regular, my boy!" Clover cheered immediately in response. "Everyone has a story to tell, no matter how 'boring' they may think it to be! Come on now, I know you've got yourself something to say, so spit it out!"
Oru grimaced at the idea. His eyes slowly trailed from Clover to Sparrow, as if begging the question if he really had to do this. Finally, after a long moment of silence and Clover quite literally sitting on the edge of his seat, the elf sat up straight, put his hands on his lap, and took in a deep breath. "Your story is a lie, Clover."
The tabaxi was suddenly taken aback, but he regained his interest promptly and batted his eyes with innocence to their woodland companion. "Aye, is it so?"
"It is." Oru kicked up another leaf from the ground and watched it fall back down onto his bare feet. "There's no such thing as a benevolent dragon. They're terrible, awful creatures. Vile in every way, a thousand scores more than the gnolls could ever manage to be. They aim to kill and destroy. Their life is deep greed and black envy. Black as obsidian. I remember, the day before my little sister's birthday, we all were preparing. She was to turn seven, and I had been eleven, at the time. Our tribe is one, huge family, and all of us had a passion for recognizing each passing year with celebration. My elder brothers all prepared the grove in which we lived to be a beautiful haven decorated with all my sister's favorite things, and my elder sisters were gone scavenging for a great feast for us to eat in her midst.
"I was sent off to the river to keep her distracted as he prepared her surprise. We sat at the riverbed and played, I remember teaching her how to skip stones and a game about all the different colored butterflies that flew by over the water. We caught and released dragonflies and toads, and were having a grand old time, laughing, the two of us. I was tasked with keeping her protected in the woods, as at the time, she had difficulty defending herself. Her behavior and natural instinct matured slower than ours. By the time most elves are seven, they know how to fight off a bear with a branch or make peace with a pack of wolves. We always kept her close, as she wasn't able to learn at our rate. The wood elf in her just never seemed to arise.
"That's when it happened. We heard a roar shaking the forest from overhead, louder than anything I had ever dealt with alone. I was letting her jump across the river stones while I sat back on the bank, and when I called for her to hurry back, she turned and slipped on one of the smoother rocks from panic at the airborne noise. The moment her head bobbed beneath the river's surface, fire rained. The forest went up into blaze in seconds. I couldn't find her in the water, and chances were she had already been caught in the burning banks. Everything was crashing down around me. The entire world looked like it was red and orange. I did the stupid thing and ran."
Oru was silent for a few more agonizingly long moments. His hands crossed and interlaced with each other, and they clenched into a fist. "I was supposed to protect her. But I fled back to my family as they were gathering the escape the flames. I dedicated my life from there to, particularly, driving evils from the forest. I protected our homes from creatures like that who could level an entire ecosystem in a breath so that our lives wouldn't be destroyed a second time. That's all I did. There were some nights that I remember driving myself to starvation because I had been surveying the land from the trees for weeks at a time without break. I didn't stumble upon the gnolls during my ceremony, I deliberately went after them. Turns out I haven't gotten any better over the years in keeping others unharmed." He glanced over at the wounds Clover sported from the war band, and took note of those remaining on Sparrow, too. "There's my story, cat." He spat rather violently.
Oru stood with a sigh and turned from his seat on the lopsided wooden planks. He briskly found the nearest overhanging willow, leaped up to the lowest branch, and heaved himself up with exceptional grace and swiftness to the highest edges of bark that would still hold his weight. There he sat, without words, staring down the trunk with a scowl and wince.
No matter the level of glamour the story possessed, Clover was watching and listening with such great interest that you could hardly tell that Sparrow was talking about her life as a slave and escapee. His eyes glimmered once she finished, his toothy smile returned, and he bumped Sparrow playfully on the shoulder in excitement. "Well, seems we're headed the right way! Treasure we shall find, dear Sparrow, and we'll all have our way with it. A great adventure, we'll have together, it shall be so much better than any drab life in a dirty old Meirlheim alleyway shack!" Before anyone could say anything in remark to him, the tabaxi turned all of his attention to the elf in the opportunity that he would learn even more about the world around him and receive more tales, great and spectacular or not.
Oru's head was lifted, mouth slightly agape at Sparrow's story. The reason was unclear; he didn't look surprised, per se, nor entirely in sorrow. More of his lack of emotional interest had been completely turned. He cared about what Sparrow had to say about her life. He blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I, not really, nothing special, I'm just a regular-"
"No such thing as regular, my boy!" Clover cheered immediately in response. "Everyone has a story to tell, no matter how 'boring' they may think it to be! Come on now, I know you've got yourself something to say, so spit it out!"
Oru grimaced at the idea. His eyes slowly trailed from Clover to Sparrow, as if begging the question if he really had to do this. Finally, after a long moment of silence and Clover quite literally sitting on the edge of his seat, the elf sat up straight, put his hands on his lap, and took in a deep breath. "Your story is a lie, Clover."
The tabaxi was suddenly taken aback, but he regained his interest promptly and batted his eyes with innocence to their woodland companion. "Aye, is it so?"
"It is." Oru kicked up another leaf from the ground and watched it fall back down onto his bare feet. "There's no such thing as a benevolent dragon. They're terrible, awful creatures. Vile in every way, a thousand scores more than the gnolls could ever manage to be. They aim to kill and destroy. Their life is deep greed and black envy. Black as obsidian. I remember, the day before my little sister's birthday, we all were preparing. She was to turn seven, and I had been eleven, at the time. Our tribe is one, huge family, and all of us had a passion for recognizing each passing year with celebration. My elder brothers all prepared the grove in which we lived to be a beautiful haven decorated with all my sister's favorite things, and my elder sisters were gone scavenging for a great feast for us to eat in her midst.
"I was sent off to the river to keep her distracted as he prepared her surprise. We sat at the riverbed and played, I remember teaching her how to skip stones and a game about all the different colored butterflies that flew by over the water. We caught and released dragonflies and toads, and were having a grand old time, laughing, the two of us. I was tasked with keeping her protected in the woods, as at the time, she had difficulty defending herself. Her behavior and natural instinct matured slower than ours. By the time most elves are seven, they know how to fight off a bear with a branch or make peace with a pack of wolves. We always kept her close, as she wasn't able to learn at our rate. The wood elf in her just never seemed to arise.
"That's when it happened. We heard a roar shaking the forest from overhead, louder than anything I had ever dealt with alone. I was letting her jump across the river stones while I sat back on the bank, and when I called for her to hurry back, she turned and slipped on one of the smoother rocks from panic at the airborne noise. The moment her head bobbed beneath the river's surface, fire rained. The forest went up into blaze in seconds. I couldn't find her in the water, and chances were she had already been caught in the burning banks. Everything was crashing down around me. The entire world looked like it was red and orange. I did the stupid thing and ran."
Oru was silent for a few more agonizingly long moments. His hands crossed and interlaced with each other, and they clenched into a fist. "I was supposed to protect her. But I fled back to my family as they were gathering the escape the flames. I dedicated my life from there to, particularly, driving evils from the forest. I protected our homes from creatures like that who could level an entire ecosystem in a breath so that our lives wouldn't be destroyed a second time. That's all I did. There were some nights that I remember driving myself to starvation because I had been surveying the land from the trees for weeks at a time without break. I didn't stumble upon the gnolls during my ceremony, I deliberately went after them. Turns out I haven't gotten any better over the years in keeping others unharmed." He glanced over at the wounds Clover sported from the war band, and took note of those remaining on Sparrow, too. "There's my story, cat." He spat rather violently.
Oru stood with a sigh and turned from his seat on the lopsided wooden planks. He briskly found the nearest overhanging willow, leaped up to the lowest branch, and heaved himself up with exceptional grace and swiftness to the highest edges of bark that would still hold his weight. There he sat, without words, staring down the trunk with a scowl and wince.
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
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An adventure? All of them, together? Sparrow wasn’t so sure.
She’d definitely like to have some company in her treasure-hunting pursuits, because she knew she’d need help...but it had the potential to cause more trouble than it was worth, between the equal dividing of any treasure gained, the natural squabbles to come along the road, and the obvious difference between Oru and Clover’s personalities. But—it wasn’t really like she had much choice. In any case, she liked both of her two new acquaintances enough to give it a try.
Oru started to answer her question, and Clover insisted on a story rather persistently; Sparrow turned, not really sure what to expect from the elf. The story he had to tell immediately dampened her spirits, but...instead of thinking he was some sort of elven failure, she realized she actually thought very highly of him. She wouldn’t have done much different if she’d been in the same situation with Lark, and she could imagine the guilt and pain he must have felt all those years.
She watched him go once he’d finished speaking, wanting to offer some words of comfort or anything to reassure him—but something told her that, at least for the meantime, it was better to let him be alone. She resolved to try and make friends with him later when he was in a better mood. He seemed like he could use a friend.
So...what then? Were they just going to wait there until the wagon was entirely burned and Oru came down from his tree? They couldn’t hang around for long and risk being found by gnolls again. Without the buffer of the caravan, she doubted they’d survive as long as they already had. The same went for any of the other monsters Oru had mentioned earlier.
Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a magical lute of her own to strum and send packs of enemies running. What she wouldn’t give for a regular lute, actually. They seemed to be rather efficient weapons, played masterfully or swung with full force at a gnoll’s head.
Sparrow dolefully finished off her apple, lost in thought for a few moments before standing, stretching her arms and legs a little and asking Clover, “If you don’t mind my asking—do you have any kind of plan in mind? Or...are we just going to start walking for Meirlheim?”
((Aw darn, that seems so horribly short >.> forgive me))
An adventure? All of them, together? Sparrow wasn’t so sure.
She’d definitely like to have some company in her treasure-hunting pursuits, because she knew she’d need help...but it had the potential to cause more trouble than it was worth, between the equal dividing of any treasure gained, the natural squabbles to come along the road, and the obvious difference between Oru and Clover’s personalities. But—it wasn’t really like she had much choice. In any case, she liked both of her two new acquaintances enough to give it a try.
Oru started to answer her question, and Clover insisted on a story rather persistently; Sparrow turned, not really sure what to expect from the elf. The story he had to tell immediately dampened her spirits, but...instead of thinking he was some sort of elven failure, she realized she actually thought very highly of him. She wouldn’t have done much different if she’d been in the same situation with Lark, and she could imagine the guilt and pain he must have felt all those years.
She watched him go once he’d finished speaking, wanting to offer some words of comfort or anything to reassure him—but something told her that, at least for the meantime, it was better to let him be alone. She resolved to try and make friends with him later when he was in a better mood. He seemed like he could use a friend.
So...what then? Were they just going to wait there until the wagon was entirely burned and Oru came down from his tree? They couldn’t hang around for long and risk being found by gnolls again. Without the buffer of the caravan, she doubted they’d survive as long as they already had. The same went for any of the other monsters Oru had mentioned earlier.
Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a magical lute of her own to strum and send packs of enemies running. What she wouldn’t give for a regular lute, actually. They seemed to be rather efficient weapons, played masterfully or swung with full force at a gnoll’s head.
Sparrow dolefully finished off her apple, lost in thought for a few moments before standing, stretching her arms and legs a little and asking Clover, “If you don’t mind my asking—do you have any kind of plan in mind? Or...are we just going to start walking for Meirlheim?”
((Aw darn, that seems so horribly short >.> forgive me))
((No worries! I don't think any reply in this thread is horribly short. :P))
"Well, we were. It's only a few miles out, and the two of you look like you could fit on Bumble's back just fine." He nodded his head towards the mule sitting peacefully in the grass below the trees' shade, pulling the grass up from its roots in comfort. "But unfortunately we have a hesitating passenger. Holding up the whole train, goodness."
Clover sat and thought for a minute. "But what a great story, aye? It would make for such a perfect folk's tale, elves and dragons and all the like. So many monster opportunities! Though- sad. " He quickly added in the last part, clearing his throat as he forgot to be sympathetic. Clover sat too in silence for a good minute or so, scanning up in down the tree as he waited impatiently by the look of his twitching tail.
"I'm gon throw a rock at him." The tabaxi lifted himself to his feet, and weighed an extremely heavy looking stone that he had pulled from the ground in his hand. "Oh, wow, nevermind." He dropped the stone dangerously close to his feet and instead picked up what could only be considered a glorified pebble. Clover reared back and launched if with all his might towards the tree, hitting nowhere near Oru. But the 'plik' of the rock jumping off the side of the trunk and a piece of bark falling with it was enough to get Oru's attention.
"What are you doing?" The elf's voice hissed from behind the branches. "Are you trying to antagonize me? If so, then you're doing a great job, wow, keep it up."
He winked down at Sparrow, then dramatically flung his arms into the air. "Oh, dear Oru! I am sorry for my deeds, truly apologetic. It is only that I, dear Clover, am an avid dragon support! And oh it pains me to know of your hatred for the poor lizards."
"Wh-"
"Hist!" Clover put a hand to his chest in fake deep sorrow. "Truly, I love dragons so, they are my all in this cruel world. Why, my ventures right now are after money for a saddle, and off I will ride the great beasts to the ends of the realm. And my, it would only be rude not to let the poor thing burn and ravage whatever village he - or she - so chooses! Thereby keeping the both of us happy with each other and at once."
"What are you talking about? You're going to get yourself killed, you idiot."
"I think not! For after the fifth or sixth village burned, my steed will be rather satisfied in my choosings, as we heave a great pile of gold back to whatever cave where home be at the center. And then off we'll go to raid cities instead and destroy all in our path!"
Oru immediately leaped down from his tree and advanced upon Clover, getting in his face with more disdain in his own than they had ever seen before. Having to stand on his tip-toes to challenge the tabaxi didn't make him anymore intimidating. "You best shut your mouth you disgusting flea-ridden creature. There's nothing funny about that whatsoever. Do you really think you're going to get away with destroying kingdoms at a time like that? Do you realize how many lives you would take?"
"Nope! Don't plan to do it at all!" He grinned. "But it got you out of your claustrophobia cave, didn't it? Right then, off we go!" Clover turned and strung his bag and lute across his back again and started off in the efforts of getting Bumblebee to budge.
((No worries! I don't think any reply in this thread is horribly short. :P))
"Well, we were. It's only a few miles out, and the two of you look like you could fit on Bumble's back just fine." He nodded his head towards the mule sitting peacefully in the grass below the trees' shade, pulling the grass up from its roots in comfort. "But unfortunately we have a hesitating passenger. Holding up the whole train, goodness."
Clover sat and thought for a minute. "But what a great story, aye? It would make for such a perfect folk's tale, elves and dragons and all the like. So many monster opportunities! Though- sad. " He quickly added in the last part, clearing his throat as he forgot to be sympathetic. Clover sat too in silence for a good minute or so, scanning up in down the tree as he waited impatiently by the look of his twitching tail.
"I'm gon throw a rock at him." The tabaxi lifted himself to his feet, and weighed an extremely heavy looking stone that he had pulled from the ground in his hand. "Oh, wow, nevermind." He dropped the stone dangerously close to his feet and instead picked up what could only be considered a glorified pebble. Clover reared back and launched if with all his might towards the tree, hitting nowhere near Oru. But the 'plik' of the rock jumping off the side of the trunk and a piece of bark falling with it was enough to get Oru's attention.
"What are you doing?" The elf's voice hissed from behind the branches. "Are you trying to antagonize me? If so, then you're doing a great job, wow, keep it up."
He winked down at Sparrow, then dramatically flung his arms into the air. "Oh, dear Oru! I am sorry for my deeds, truly apologetic. It is only that I, dear Clover, am an avid dragon support! And oh it pains me to know of your hatred for the poor lizards."
"Wh-"
"Hist!" Clover put a hand to his chest in fake deep sorrow. "Truly, I love dragons so, they are my all in this cruel world. Why, my ventures right now are after money for a saddle, and off I will ride the great beasts to the ends of the realm. And my, it would only be rude not to let the poor thing burn and ravage whatever village he - or she - so chooses! Thereby keeping the both of us happy with each other and at once."
"What are you talking about? You're going to get yourself killed, you idiot."
"I think not! For after the fifth or sixth village burned, my steed will be rather satisfied in my choosings, as we heave a great pile of gold back to whatever cave where home be at the center. And then off we'll go to raid cities instead and destroy all in our path!"
Oru immediately leaped down from his tree and advanced upon Clover, getting in his face with more disdain in his own than they had ever seen before. Having to stand on his tip-toes to challenge the tabaxi didn't make him anymore intimidating. "You best shut your mouth you disgusting flea-ridden creature. There's nothing funny about that whatsoever. Do you really think you're going to get away with destroying kingdoms at a time like that? Do you realize how many lives you would take?"
"Nope! Don't plan to do it at all!" He grinned. "But it got you out of your claustrophobia cave, didn't it? Right then, off we go!" Clover turned and strung his bag and lute across his back again and started off in the efforts of getting Bumblebee to budge.
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
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Sparrow shook her head, an amused smile trying to work its way onto her face as Clover began attempting to get Oru out of the tree. When the elf finally did swing down to berate the tabaxi Sparrow got to her feet, tossing her apple core into what was left of the fire and dusting herself off.
She had to congratulate Clover’s easy jabber; he seemed able to come up with anything right on the spot and have everybody feeling exactly the way he wanted them to. She’d known of one or two people with similar talents, but never such so masterful as Clover Quinwill. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t so sure how to feel about that. So far the exhibition of the tabaxi’s talents had been amusing and appreciated, but what if he should harness his abilities to manipulate her, the same way he’d just manipulated Oru? She could tell herself all she liked that a little fancy talking wouldn’t get work on her, but so far she hadn’t been tested. Sparrow made a mental note to watch herself and make sure she wasn’t so easily manipulated should Clover ever attempt to talk her into something.
She turned back to the two others to see Clover striding off to collect his mule, leaving Oru to realize he’d been bamboozled. Approaching the elf, she dared to attempt familiarity, bumping his arm lightly with her own and joking, “If he ever does want to make friends with a dragon, we can just tie his tail to a tree and run, hm?”
Walking on, she extended a hand to pat Bumble’s flank, asking Clover, “Mind if I try? I’ve been told I’m good with animals, and I think it’s only fair I get to know this magnificent steed if I’m supposed to be riding him.”
She grinned at the tabaxi, turning to the mule. She’d only ever heard him called Bumble, and if it was his full name or short for something she’d have to ask later.
“Hello, Bumble,” she greeted, bobbing her head politely and looking the mule in the one eye immediately visible to her. “My name’s Sparrow.”
The mule seemed to be in decent spirits for having just survived a gnoll attack and had himself burned free of his restraints; he was probably just relieved he didn’t have to haul around the caravan anymore.
Sparrow patted his flank again, ruffling his mane and asking, “You ready to get a move on, old fellow? We’ve got a bit of ground to cover, but I’m sure it’s nothing for a great, strong lad like you.”
She really didn’t know how the mule would respond; back at Graeyorn’s place of residence, the stables were almost more familiar to her than the room she shared with Lark, and she’d made such good friends of the horses and other animals there that all she had to do was walk out of the house and in a few moments they’d be crowding the courtyard to say hello. She hadn’t, however, had the pleasure of knowing Bumble for several years, so she could only hope he was a good-natured little mule.
If he wasn't--well, she'd been walking for two days now, another one or two wouldn't kill her. Something else might, but the walking itself would be fine.
Sparrow shook her head, an amused smile trying to work its way onto her face as Clover began attempting to get Oru out of the tree. When the elf finally did swing down to berate the tabaxi Sparrow got to her feet, tossing her apple core into what was left of the fire and dusting herself off.
She had to congratulate Clover’s easy jabber; he seemed able to come up with anything right on the spot and have everybody feeling exactly the way he wanted them to. She’d known of one or two people with similar talents, but never such so masterful as Clover Quinwill. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t so sure how to feel about that. So far the exhibition of the tabaxi’s talents had been amusing and appreciated, but what if he should harness his abilities to manipulate her, the same way he’d just manipulated Oru? She could tell herself all she liked that a little fancy talking wouldn’t get work on her, but so far she hadn’t been tested. Sparrow made a mental note to watch herself and make sure she wasn’t so easily manipulated should Clover ever attempt to talk her into something.
She turned back to the two others to see Clover striding off to collect his mule, leaving Oru to realize he’d been bamboozled. Approaching the elf, she dared to attempt familiarity, bumping his arm lightly with her own and joking, “If he ever does want to make friends with a dragon, we can just tie his tail to a tree and run, hm?”
Walking on, she extended a hand to pat Bumble’s flank, asking Clover, “Mind if I try? I’ve been told I’m good with animals, and I think it’s only fair I get to know this magnificent steed if I’m supposed to be riding him.”
She grinned at the tabaxi, turning to the mule. She’d only ever heard him called Bumble, and if it was his full name or short for something she’d have to ask later.
“Hello, Bumble,” she greeted, bobbing her head politely and looking the mule in the one eye immediately visible to her. “My name’s Sparrow.”
The mule seemed to be in decent spirits for having just survived a gnoll attack and had himself burned free of his restraints; he was probably just relieved he didn’t have to haul around the caravan anymore.
Sparrow patted his flank again, ruffling his mane and asking, “You ready to get a move on, old fellow? We’ve got a bit of ground to cover, but I’m sure it’s nothing for a great, strong lad like you.”
She really didn’t know how the mule would respond; back at Graeyorn’s place of residence, the stables were almost more familiar to her than the room she shared with Lark, and she’d made such good friends of the horses and other animals there that all she had to do was walk out of the house and in a few moments they’d be crowding the courtyard to say hello. She hadn’t, however, had the pleasure of knowing Bumble for several years, so she could only hope he was a good-natured little mule.
If he wasn't--well, she'd been walking for two days now, another one or two wouldn't kill her. Something else might, but the walking itself would be fine.
Oru furrowed his brow and sighed deeply as Sparrow teased the situation in the best of intentions. He figured at this point it was of no use to get as thoroughly annoyed with Sparrow, or even the tabaxi, as he did before. "Yeah, let's not let him chase that dream." He offered with a slight melancholy chuckle. He shivered and followed them with hesitance, and looked almost cold; though it was more likely his attitude than actual weather, for bandages covered his chest and a thin skirt of leaves was his only bearing as of now, and he had yet to mention a thing about the temperature.
As Clover gathered the little things he had, he backed up from Sparrow as she dealt with his beast of burden. "Be my guest! The old bloke isn't exactly in favor of moving, well, ever, so you can try your hardest to-" He stopped dead in his tracks while watching Bumblebee sniff Sparrow's palm, snort into it, and hoist himself up from the ground with quicker speed than she had ever seen him move before. Once up on four legs, he circled Sparrow a time or two and stood by her side. His eyes glanced up to meet hers as if asking what the next step was. There was no doubt that he liked her more than Clover, whatever reason that was. Likely the annoyance of having a humanoid always talking to you in a language that was completely bamboozling to your feral ears.
Also while Clover was preoccupied, Oru found it his need to come over and introduce himself to Bumblebee as well. But instead of slowly coming over and putting his hand out to wait for the mule's opinion, he immediately sat cross-legged in front of the animal and spoke in an unfamiliar language. This sounded like the flowing, eloquent voice of any other elf city or otherwise. Despite having said that he wasn't allowed to speak in elven until his ceremony had been completed and approved, Oru now seemed to be brave enough to break whatever sacred rules his kind might have after that fight with the gnolls and for the sake of his party.
Bumblebee snorted again in response, but this time made a collection of huff, grunts, and what you could almost call a whinny until it slowly turned into a nasty sounding bray. What a graceful creature the mule is.
"He says you don't smell like anchovies and sewage." Oru peaked over Bumble's side to grin at Clover, who turned and gasped as though he had just been thoroughly betrayed.
"Blasphemy!" The tabaxi shouted, walked over, and set his hands on his hips while staring down the mule. "You can understand what he's sayin'?"
"That's the point of elven. It was a language made of sounds animals comprehend. Why do you think we talk in common all the time? Elven's main purpose wasn't to have our own private language, but it does come in handy when you don't want those nasty mockingbirds sneaking in a word to surrounding enemies." He tipped his head to Bumblebee again and spoke once more, promptly receiving an unintelligible reply. "He also says you're too loud and you have a bad taste in clothing."
"You added the last one."
"I did, but who says I'm wrong?"
Oru furrowed his brow and sighed deeply as Sparrow teased the situation in the best of intentions. He figured at this point it was of no use to get as thoroughly annoyed with Sparrow, or even the tabaxi, as he did before. "Yeah, let's not let him chase that dream." He offered with a slight melancholy chuckle. He shivered and followed them with hesitance, and looked almost cold; though it was more likely his attitude than actual weather, for bandages covered his chest and a thin skirt of leaves was his only bearing as of now, and he had yet to mention a thing about the temperature.
As Clover gathered the little things he had, he backed up from Sparrow as she dealt with his beast of burden. "Be my guest! The old bloke isn't exactly in favor of moving, well, ever, so you can try your hardest to-" He stopped dead in his tracks while watching Bumblebee sniff Sparrow's palm, snort into it, and hoist himself up from the ground with quicker speed than she had ever seen him move before. Once up on four legs, he circled Sparrow a time or two and stood by her side. His eyes glanced up to meet hers as if asking what the next step was. There was no doubt that he liked her more than Clover, whatever reason that was. Likely the annoyance of having a humanoid always talking to you in a language that was completely bamboozling to your feral ears.
Also while Clover was preoccupied, Oru found it his need to come over and introduce himself to Bumblebee as well. But instead of slowly coming over and putting his hand out to wait for the mule's opinion, he immediately sat cross-legged in front of the animal and spoke in an unfamiliar language. This sounded like the flowing, eloquent voice of any other elf city or otherwise. Despite having said that he wasn't allowed to speak in elven until his ceremony had been completed and approved, Oru now seemed to be brave enough to break whatever sacred rules his kind might have after that fight with the gnolls and for the sake of his party.
Bumblebee snorted again in response, but this time made a collection of huff, grunts, and what you could almost call a whinny until it slowly turned into a nasty sounding bray. What a graceful creature the mule is.
"He says you don't smell like anchovies and sewage." Oru peaked over Bumble's side to grin at Clover, who turned and gasped as though he had just been thoroughly betrayed.
"Blasphemy!" The tabaxi shouted, walked over, and set his hands on his hips while staring down the mule. "You can understand what he's sayin'?"
"That's the point of elven. It was a language made of sounds animals comprehend. Why do you think we talk in common all the time? Elven's main purpose wasn't to have our own private language, but it does come in handy when you don't want those nasty mockingbirds sneaking in a word to surrounding enemies." He tipped his head to Bumblebee again and spoke once more, promptly receiving an unintelligible reply. "He also says you're too loud and you have a bad taste in clothing."
"You added the last one."
"I did, but who says I'm wrong?"
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xSkets | She/Her | Bi | Capricorn | Meme | FR + 2
xAuthor | D&D Enthusiast | Worldbuilder | Too Many OCs
xPWYW Dergs
xMeowdy-do
Nochnyr
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Sparrow finally let her amusement show, laughing aloud at Oru’s translation. Who knew Bumble was such a cheeky little fellow?
She laughed again when Clover’s taste in fashion was mentioned, admitting, “I don’t know—I kind of like it.” She glanced at the tabaxi’s colorful attire, adding, “But my sister tells me I have a bad taste in clothing as well, so my opinion might as well be discounted.”
Whatever Lark said, before that day Sparrow’s closet had consisted of browns, off-whites and greys. She didn’t hate it, but when she saw the free men and women of the city going about, rich and poor alike, in beautiful colors, she couldn’t help but be a little envious. The one time she’d come into possession of an accessory with some hue, it had been a single, red ribbon. When she was little, she’d wait until she was alone at night or out in the stables, and she’d tie back her hair with that treasured strip of color, imagining for a moment she was someone else, somewhere else.
Before she’d left Graeyorn’s house two days ago, she’d given the ribbon to Lark. She hadn’t taken it from its hidden spot for a few years, since she’d grown older and been given more work to do. She could still see the way her sister’s face lit up—not at the color, because as a lady-in-waiting in Graeyorn’s wife, she was often given a pretty dress to wear should the lady of the house go out in public. No, she’d begun to smile broadly because she knew how much the ribbon meant to Sparrow, and, with the ribbon in her hair, she’d have the memory of her older sister there to keep her company until they’d meet again.
Sparrow grinned slightly at the memory, playing with Bumblebee’s mane. Her thoughts gradually shifted focus, and she wondered how hard it was to learn elven. It sounded quite pleasant when Oru spoke it, and if it really was made of sounds animals could comprehend then she’d like to learn, if only because she loved animals so much. She’d been rather surprised at Bumble’s response to her, smiling a little proudly when the mule near immediately responded to her touch a moment ago.
Looking down at Oru, she questioned curiously, “Can anyone learn elven? Or is it, you know, strictly for elves?”
That brought another question to mind. Did different races of elves have different versions of elven? Perhaps those that lived by the sea spoke a language more understandable to water-going beasts. Or maybe the elves that lived high in the mountains spoke in a tongue that could better communicate with the likes of snow-cats and dragons.
She’d heard tell from Graeyorn and his studies that some magic-users employed the elven language in their spells and incantations. Surely they weren’t using the same tongue used for easy communication with animals—how could that help increase the power of a spell? Maybe there was another kind of elven on top of the usual one. If it could be called ‘usual’.
That thought, in turn, brought several more queries about elven culture to mind, but Sparrow decided she’d better just stick to her original question for the time being.
Sparrow finally let her amusement show, laughing aloud at Oru’s translation. Who knew Bumble was such a cheeky little fellow?
She laughed again when Clover’s taste in fashion was mentioned, admitting, “I don’t know—I kind of like it.” She glanced at the tabaxi’s colorful attire, adding, “But my sister tells me I have a bad taste in clothing as well, so my opinion might as well be discounted.”
Whatever Lark said, before that day Sparrow’s closet had consisted of browns, off-whites and greys. She didn’t hate it, but when she saw the free men and women of the city going about, rich and poor alike, in beautiful colors, she couldn’t help but be a little envious. The one time she’d come into possession of an accessory with some hue, it had been a single, red ribbon. When she was little, she’d wait until she was alone at night or out in the stables, and she’d tie back her hair with that treasured strip of color, imagining for a moment she was someone else, somewhere else.
Before she’d left Graeyorn’s house two days ago, she’d given the ribbon to Lark. She hadn’t taken it from its hidden spot for a few years, since she’d grown older and been given more work to do. She could still see the way her sister’s face lit up—not at the color, because as a lady-in-waiting in Graeyorn’s wife, she was often given a pretty dress to wear should the lady of the house go out in public. No, she’d begun to smile broadly because she knew how much the ribbon meant to Sparrow, and, with the ribbon in her hair, she’d have the memory of her older sister there to keep her company until they’d meet again.
Sparrow grinned slightly at the memory, playing with Bumblebee’s mane. Her thoughts gradually shifted focus, and she wondered how hard it was to learn elven. It sounded quite pleasant when Oru spoke it, and if it really was made of sounds animals could comprehend then she’d like to learn, if only because she loved animals so much. She’d been rather surprised at Bumble’s response to her, smiling a little proudly when the mule near immediately responded to her touch a moment ago.
Looking down at Oru, she questioned curiously, “Can anyone learn elven? Or is it, you know, strictly for elves?”
That brought another question to mind. Did different races of elves have different versions of elven? Perhaps those that lived by the sea spoke a language more understandable to water-going beasts. Or maybe the elves that lived high in the mountains spoke in a tongue that could better communicate with the likes of snow-cats and dragons.
She’d heard tell from Graeyorn and his studies that some magic-users employed the elven language in their spells and incantations. Surely they weren’t using the same tongue used for easy communication with animals—how could that help increase the power of a spell? Maybe there was another kind of elven on top of the usual one. If it could be called ‘usual’.
That thought, in turn, brought several more queries about elven culture to mind, but Sparrow decided she’d better just stick to her original question for the time being.
