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The Rambler
04-17-2018, 07:42 PM
Henry stretched out his arms over his head, reaching up towards the dusky sky above as he ambled down the dirt-packed street. He dropped his arms back down, the butt of his staff thumping against the ground as he did so, and looked around. The small village, an extension of the mining town of Stonevale really, was quiet, peaceful. The early afternoon heat of the day had faded, and most people were inside now - it was around the time for an early supper from what he remembered. Too late for the activities of the day, too early for things like the night-market, but just right for someone to wander around without drawing too much attention to themselves.

Henry winced slightly and resettled the pack and fiddle-case on his back, moving a hard edge out of his hip. That done, the musician paused and rolled his staff back and forth in his fingers as he thought. He was back here at this time somewhat accidentally - he had decided to make a trip back to the orphanage he had grown up in to visit, and to bring some trinkets from his travels back. A few of the other children he had grown up with were reaching their birthdays, and he wanted to join in the celebrations for them. They didn't know he was coming back though - he didn't send many messages back in the first place, and he had decided to make this a surprise visit.

It was a little strange though - the village was abnormally quiet. Even if it was at the peaceful hour between day and night, the sun still setting and painting the sky in darkening purple hues, there should still be some people out and about, rushing to take care of their last few chores before the day ended. The musician began humming under his breath as he pondered on the heavy silence over the village - like an air of anticipation, it felt something would be happening.

He shrugged that off - it was likely in his own head, from his own plans to surprise the kids at the orphanage. Henry was prone to showmanship after all, so seeing a situation that was building to a burst of activity and motion was probably just a flight of fancy for him.

Sure enough, the night began to come alive quietly - a few shops that he knew were parts of the night market, places where goods that didn't do well under the harsh light of the sun, or for people who worked into the deep of the night to keep things running, began to open up their windows and doors as he moseyed down the dusty main street.

Henry chuckled and waved to a few of the shop owners who recognized him - it had only been a few months since he set out wandering, nowhere near long enough for the people that had known him for most of his life to dicey what he looked like. Greetings were exchanged - and one old lady, who ran a bakery, waved him over interrupting the flow of his night. Bemused, he headed over to see what she wanted.

He was, almost predictably, loaded down with some loaves of bread. “You're heading back home, aren't you? Then you can take these over there so dear Matilda doesn't have to send any of the young’uns over to pick these up. Go on now, shoo!” The lady gave Henry an amused smile as she waved him off, his load now much heavier than it had been moments ago. With a laugh and the scent of fresh-baked bread in his nose, Henry resumed his walk through the streets.

Yvonne
04-19-2018, 10:28 AM
Placing her crossbow away behind lock and key was more difficult than she had first thought it would be. Her feelings about the weapon were paradoxical. She hated using it, felt guilty every time she fired a shot let alone injured someone but, found she didn't want to let it go. The crossbow was a memory of her mother - thinking of her mother made her feel innocent and safe, even though she wasn't here. Leaving her crossbow behind welcomed feelings of apprehension, isolation and vulnerability. She reminded herself this was temporary, she was storing it for a while because it caused others to think her dangerous and that wasn't the impression she wanted to give today.

The black-skinned dwarf stepped out onto a cobblestone, closing the door to the inn behind her. She appeared out of place as she often did, walking the Stonevale dirt-road in heels and stockings, her skirt swishing against her knees. The Aleran let her straight-black hair down, ran her fingers through it suggesting nervousness and began to gather a ponytail. She twisted the tail around itself while continuing to walk, securing her bun with a tie and pins. There, that should give a better impression, hopefully one of wealth and class.

Yvonne had never found her way here before, only arriving yesterday. Stonevale was a long way from home. Even during her travels with her mentor they'd not journeyed this far south-east. It was a quaint little village that reminded her of Kachuck - in its own way, the clinks of pickaxes and the clanging of metalwork - and these familiarities helped her to feel better. Perhaps she could carve out a nook of her own here, buy a humble house, start a modest business - become an important part of this community. The sunlight was too bright though, despite setting. Perhaps not. All of that was as they say, wait and see - or as the grey dwarf preferred to say, hurry and see.

Yvonne always had a good reason for arriving in a new place and once she had arrived, found her feet, she looked for ways she could contribute to society. Over a year ago she'd asked her mentor how to be taken seriously. How to convince those around her to stop treating her like a piece of trash. He replied with words of wisdom she will never forget. Make it so everyone is in your debt. Sometimes a great opportunity to help many arises - be there, take it - but even in quiet times her mentor had stressed the importance of keeping yourself slightly too busy, lest upon task completion your time is whisked away with procrastination. He explained that once it's obvious you've done your utmost to help others, continue to do so - important members of society notice. You make connections with people of influence, hopefully they're like-minded allies - not rivals - and before you know it your name is bandied about for mayor.

It was a likely story. One she didn't believe.

No, mostly the trader had come to experience a night-market in a smaller-scale environment. She'd grown accustomed to the sprawling cities of Ettermire and Radasanth. Would a market by night still be profitable with a smaller customer base? Product choice would be critical - people have different needs at night than during the day, rest, shelter, warmth and entertainment. That's why inns, taverns and brothels succeed. They provide for the needs we all have.

Wham! Oh gods!

Yvonne - clumsy daydreamer - collided with someone carrying an armload of bread loaves, knocking a few loose of his grasp. This, however, was the perfect time to be short, and she caught them both, one and two, with more time to react than most. Who would have thought being short had its uses after all?

"I'm sorry! Forgive me, I wasn't watching where I be going. Me eyes, they be sensitive ta tha sun," she explained, about to gesture to the goggles she was wearing, realizing she was still holding the bread, his bread. Sheepish, Yvonne offered them back with both outstretched arms.

"I didn't mean ta knock ye about mister."

The Rambler
04-19-2018, 01:56 PM
The night market was definitely coming to life as Henry walked down the street. More and more people were going about their business, albeit at a slower pace than was seen under the full light of the sun. The musician smiled and nodded to the people around him as he walked, taking in the peaceful air of the nig-

Thud.


The impact had been rather sudden and unexpected - Henry had been humming a tune under his breath as he walked the street and nodded to people, so he had not heard any footsteps coming towards him. The musician had let his guard down - he was back in a familiar setting, and the footsteps that had approached him had been quiet, soft and steady, not the sound of someone rushing in his direction, so they had been lost under the music in his own head. He blinked and shook his head once as he looked around, trying to see who it was that had run into him - and then looked down as two of the loaves of bread that he had been carrying were thrust up towards him. For a moment he thought that one of the local children had run into him while they were playing, but children weren't exactly known for calm, peaceful strides.

Then he processed what he was seeing. A short, stocky woman, with skin as dark as the night sky, and black hair done up in a bun, was holding up the loaves of bread as she spoke rapidly. Henry's mind ran back over what she was saying as she stopped to take a breath, and he blinked as he realized she was apologizing. Had apologized, rather, and was now holding the bread up towards him emphatically. The blue-eyed man let out a soft chuckle as he looked around on the ground, making sure none of the rest of his burden had been spilled onto the dusty path, then shook his head.

"Peace, peace. All's fair, miss. Ah, if you would?" He knelt down - he was still holding several loaves of bread, and couldn't exactly take the ones that she was holding out back. But on one knee, the pile of bread was low enough for her to easily stack the two that she had back on top. "No harm done to the bread, and the gods know the kids likely eat dirt raw, so even if some of the bread had gotten a bit messed up it would have been fine." He gave the dark-skinned - woman? Short teen? Dwarf, perhaps? - a bright smile. Her coal-black skin was definitely marking her as a foreigner to the region, but with Stonevale as one of the most profitable mines on the island nation, a lot of travelers came through.

It was a bit odd to see someone out here in what was essentially a suburb for the mining town, but not a complete rarity either. As he re-balanced the loaves of bread, Henry straightened back up and rolled his shoulders slightly. "There we go - actually. Hmm." He examined the woman for a moment - it didn't look like she'd run into his staff, but... "You aren't hurt yourself, are you miss?

Yvonne
04-21-2018, 03:01 AM
Yvonne's first impression of the human man before her was very favourable - he was off to a flying start in her book. She had learned a while ago surfacers often react negatively when they're sideswiped in the street, which was why she was so over-the-top on the apology. In this busy life you couldn't impede momentum, not without causing a ruckus or having a tiff. This one gave a new meaning to 'respond in kind', his go-to utterances of peace, fairness and he wasn't finished, kneeling down to her level and smiling so brightly she couldn't keep the smirk from her face. His smile was contagious.

What? No criticism? No 'Watch where yer going, I'm walking here?' Not even a short joke? It was a pleasant change of pace. Yvonne returned the bread loaves she was offering to the top of the pile, without needing to stretch to do so, thinking she'd finally caught a lucky break. Any moment now he'd relent on the courteous routine and deliver a blindsiding quip. A 'Be more careful next time' at least. Nobody was this nice, this perfect.

She genuinely smiled, fluttering lashes as he raised his concerns for her well-being. Who be this gentleman and why have I not met him until now? "Oh, that be very thoughtful of ye mister." Be it too late ta feign unconsciousness? "I'm quite wonderful, thank ye. Ye be a dear for mentioning it."

The dwarven hybrid glanced down to herself to make sure she was, in fact, okay. She'd spoken on how she felt but that wasn't what he meant, the realization he was eyeing her for bruises came afterward. Yvonne nibbled her lip, straightening her back to appear taller, gently dusting her corset with her palms before folding her arms behind her. He be checking me out. Quick, look as pretty as possible. She crossed her ankles and met his examining gaze demurely.

Her mind a whirr of spiralling thoughts, she tried to process the things he had said, to keep the conversation going so as not to appear a fool. Kids! Kids. Of course a man like this was happily married and surrounded by ankle-biting rascals and rug rats. He'd even done the shopping, bless him, for his certain to be lovely wife. He was so thoughtful, the ideal man. That was a lot of bread loaves he was carrying - a lot of bread to feed a lot of mouths. Yvonne deflated ever-so-slightly.

"Ye must be a proud father ta many wee lads and lasses. How old be yer children?" Yvonne asked, giving him a curious stare. The mathematics didn't add up. She was certain he was no older than she, and yet, if each of those loaves represented a child or two he'd been a busy boy for a very long time.

The Rambler
04-22-2018, 11:59 AM
The short, dark woman didn't appear to be injured, which was a bit of a relief for Henry. After dusting herself off she seemed perfectly fine, so he had relaxed a bit - their collision had had remarkably little casualty to it. When she started looking at him through her eyelashes one corner of his mouth started to twist upwards in amusement, only to halt when she deflated at some thought that crossed her mind. Before he could ask what it was she had pressed on - and he stared at her in blank shock for a moment before bursting into laughter.

The woman - he really did need to ask her name, now that he thought of it - was most certainly new to town, if she didn't know that a large number of the children that roamed the streets were from a local orphanage. The musician shook his head, his shaggy hair swaying around his face as he turned to wipe some of the tears of amusement from his eye on his shoulder. "No, no, miss, you've the wrong of it there." He chuckled again and tilted his head to the left, in the direction that he had been walking before their sudden meeting. "I'm not a married man, nor a father, a tad too young for that I think. This bread is for the children at the orphanage where I grew up." He winked at her.

"They're rambunctious little ones, and any time the shopkeeps here in town can see a way to avoid having the children invade their stores, they're happy for it. Beatrice, the baker, took advantage of my return to do just that." His trained ear picked up a faint sound, a tempo that was at odds with the calm of the night. The new tempo was chorused, repeat after repeat, making the blue-eyed musician turn his head in the direction of the sounds. He had a moment or two to process before he chuckled and braced himself, planting his right leg firmer on the ground. This was what he had missed before the dark-skinned woman had run into him, the sound of running, and this time he was not caught unawares.

There were three of them, with an older boy ambling along behind them, shaking his head. Three madly dashing, arms flailing, legs pelting the dirt, children, sprinting madly towards the conversing duo. Their attention was focused on the bread-carrying man, and when they got close enough to be heard - "HENRY! YOU'RE HOME!" - rang down the street, making a few people look in their direction. One kid, a young boy reached Henry first, and was halfway up the musician's back, hanging onto his travel-pack as he peered over Henry's shoulder. The other two, a young girl in a dusty pair of leggings and an over-long shirt, and a boy who had apparently lost his own shirt somewhere, slammed into the musician's legs, holding onto his waist and staring up at him. Or, perhaps, at the bread he was carrying.

"Why didn't you tell anyone you were comin' back Henry? Mama Matilda didn't say nuthin' about you comin' back, and she would have yes she would!" "Is that bread for us Henry? Mams sent us and Lethro for the bread from Mrs. Beatrice, but if you've already got it then we can just go home with you and the bread! See, Lethro, we can do things too!" "Henry, who's the short dark lady? Is she your friend? Are you bringing her home to meet Mama Matilda?" The voices of the children ran over each other in their excitement. and Henry was shaking his head with a grin at most of it - though he did stop and turn to look over his shoulder at the boy who was hanging off of his backpack, staring down at the black-skinned dwarf.

"And where did you hear about bringing someone home to meet Mama Matilda, Theo? And no, this young lady is someone I just met, I've not even the pleasure of her name." Henry turned his head to look at the older boy, Lethro, who was apparently the person assigned to shepherd the energetic children that were holding onto Henry. "Hello, Lethro. She sent you to watch the kids?" The boy nodded, shaking his head at the antics of the children that had sprinted off from him. Henry shook his head and turned back to look at the woman. "Sorry about that if they're a little rude, they're still learning propriety." He grinned.

Yvonne
04-23-2018, 05:22 PM
Much like this man's spreading smile and the way she smiled at the sight of it, his laughter was humourous to be a part of. She couldn't help but laugh right along with him. Whether it was how his laugh was a full body experience that jostled the loaves in his arms or the realization she had been foolish after all, they were in stitches together. He laughed with such vigor tears trickled down his cheeks, his reaction authentic and wholesome. There was next to naught he could do to save himself, composure relinquished with an armload of baked goods. Trying to keep it together, wiping the tears he could reach on his shoulder - even that attempt at regaining himself was comical. His mirth warmed her to her soul.

The human was kind enough to explain everything, once he could string sentences together again, filling in so many blanks and erasing her assumptions. Yvonne was thoughtful and fond while he spoke, the glint of her silver eyes inspired by his words. Not married, not a father. So, does this make ye available after all? Her thoughts reeled her in, back to the moment before she'd felt that subtle disappointment, to a moment of seemingly boundless possibilities. She chewed her lower lip gently, her coquettish smirk gradually developing into a grin. Aye, it does make ye available. Yer fair game mister!

Having eyes and ears only for the man before her, Yvonne hadn't noticed the rush of three kids about to waylay him until they were upon him. The fact they shouted his name to the high heavens further on down the street came to her later, like a resurfacing memory coming to mind. Henry. A strong name with a tender flourish. Its meaning be fitting. She turned the name over in her mind, finally breaking eye contact with Henry and looking to the kids at his knees with a happy giggle. Rambunctious ye say? Ye can say that again! They looked a ragtag and bobtail bunch, dressed in hand-me-downs and covered in road-dust, but those things lent to their appeal. From the moment she laid eyes on them she felt compelled to take care of them.

Yvonne remained quiet and tended to her over-loud thoughts, listening intently to the kids and their questions, flicking her gaze from one to the next and the one thereafter. She blushed at the words of the boy staring at her unabashed, although the colour would have gone unnoticed upon her black-skinned cheeks. Children knew how to skip past modesty with their honesty, getting to the point, ready or not here I come. The diminutive drow was nodding and smirking even as Henry was shaking his head, his expression telling her no, politely no you little rascals. They sprinted away, as quickly as they had come and she knew there was no keeping up to speed with that bunch.

"That be quite alright, dear," she spoke at long last, after the kid-whirlwind had come and gone. Her eyes chased them into the distance, toward their orphanage where she imagined they would gossip with their improvised family about the news. Their big brother was on his way home right now and he had a girl with him. Yuck! Henry has a girlfriend? Girls have cooties! Yvonne giggled at her own forethought, preparing herself in advance for how it was going to be. She looked to Henry and that charming grin, twirling her skirt left and right and rocking on her heels softly.

"Ye have a decision ta make mister," smirking and raising an eyebrow. "Be ye taking me home to meet yer mama? Or be ye planning ta disappoint those wee, little darlings?" She eyed him through her lashes, hoping to divert the embarrassment she was feeling in her chest onto him with her questions and manner. As far as she was concerned, he didn't stand a chance. His fate was already sealed.

The Rambler
04-23-2018, 09:57 PM
Henry loaded down the three children and shooed them off, watching as Lethro moseyed along behind them. He shook his head slightly, chuckling under his breath - he had never understood why the somewhat sleepy younger teen was usually the one tasked with looking after the children whenever they had to go into town, but; oh, who was he kidding, he knew exactly why. Lethro was, for all his lazy attitude, one of the only ones the small kids would listen to, for whatever reason. As he watched the small group travel back, carrying the bread that had been his burden mere moments ago, he shook his head again with a slight twist to his lips, then returned his gaze to the short woman who had bounced into him.

With no armfuls of bread now, he spun his staff from the holster on his pack and leaned on it slightly, his smile growing slightly as he considered the short woman. She was acting coquettish, gazing at him through her lashes, while almost inviting herself along. Though he knew that it was likely prompted by Theo's question, so he wasn't particularly disturbed by it. Instead of answering right away he looked her up and down slowly, and let his smile crinkle the corners of his eyes as he studied her. She swayed back and forth slightly, the hem of her skirt dancing about her legs in the fading gloom of the evening sky, and he thought he saw the traces of her own smile and amusement as she watched him.

Well - he had grown up with several other people near his age, girls both younger and older than him, so he knew when one was trying to get her way without outright asking for it. He hummed a light trill, a rising surge as he thought of how to respond to her. "Well miss, the little ones have had to live with disappointment before, and excitement in its own turn - they likely didn't expect to see me back here for some months yet, as I'm a wanderer and a minstrel by inclination." He grinned widely at her, pre-empting any thought that he was turning her down. He had no reason to, really - he could easily afford to pick up some extra food to account for the increased number of mouths at the table, and the happiness of the children was rather pleasant to him.

"But, I suppose, they've gone and gotten their own hopes up, the little fiends, and I'm not one to deny them. I warn you though, Mother Matilda is a shrewd old woman who really does treat us all like her own children - or grandchildren, as the case may be. Now, if you're to be my escort for the evening," he winked at her, "might I be honored with your name? I'm sure you caught mine as the children came after me, but on the chance you missed it, I am Henry." He bowed low at that - and impishly smirked at her before taking her hand and kissing the back of it before letting it drop.

Yvonne
04-25-2018, 03:03 AM
Yvonne was captivated with Henry's engaging conduct. She allowed herself to be acquired at the wrist, heart skipping a beat and stomach aflutter with the delight of butterflies. He placed a kiss upon her hand like a well-intentioned gentleman, complete with a bow as low as she was high - the attention trembled her at the knees. The diminished woman melted. Her psychological barriers softened. Neither did he overstay his welcome, letting her hand fall thereafter, leaving the infatuated hybrid with wistful thoughts of holding his hand again, and soon.

There was only one other man she'd met before, throughout her life which had treated her with as much respect. He was old and grey enough to be her father. Indeed, in many ways Abel filled her void in that regard, mentor to which she owed direction in her life, the momentum of her career. He had treated Yvonne like she was the most extraordinary individual he'd ever had the privilege of teaching, like she was capable of altering the course of history - changing the world - at least until he didn't. Her mentor had a lifetime to cultivate a gentleman's decorum. Even he had abandoned her because of ears and skin, in the end.

The connotations underlying Henry's word-choice hadn't escaped her sharp mind. Her mother was a prostitute whom had raised her daughter in a brothel. A faint awareness of reality originated in the back of Yvonne's mind - the realization drew her gradually back to earth like a child bringing in a kite from the wind. So there was the quip she'd anticipated much earlier, once she'd bumped into him. He was a real person who made the occasional slip after all. To his credit she'd forgotten to expect her feathers ruffled. The petite drow raised an imperious eyebrow, her mouth ajar with surprise. She'd already given him a free pass, expecting he didn't intend escort to be interpreted the way she understood it.

"Mind yer manners," she advised, amused. "Mother may have been an escort but she spared me her life." Yvonne's euphoric, starry-eyed expression had touched down to playful enthusiasm. She understood what that mischievous smirk of his was all about - he was a teaser, a man whom enjoyed deriving reactions from his actions. This was a game she could play as well.

"Ye want ta know me name?" The roguish woman blinked her eyelids, feigning a second bout of surprise. "Ye'd like that wouldn't ye?" A thin grin ebbed between her lavish lips, knowing her riposte would catch Henry flat-footed, unsuspecting.

"I think I'd like yer Mama Matilda by tha sound of it," Yvonne considered, reflecting, before walking ahead on her handsome friend, leaving him there. She flicked him a sidelong glance over her shoulder as she paced away, smirking happily.

"I'd sooner introduce myself ta her," she countered, her silvery elven eyes sparking with beguilement. "Are ye coming or are ye going ta stand there with that speechless look on yer face?"

The Rambler
04-25-2018, 01:04 PM
Henry blinked a few times as the short woman's facial expression dimmed slightly at his words, and he frowned. He hadn't said anything - at her admonishment to mindhis manners he ran his last few sentences back through in his head and his frown became more pronounced, trying to figure out what he had said wrong.

The musician's tanned skin paled as she told him her mother had spared her that life - and he finally realized why she had gotten.. dimmer. "Ah, wait, miss - my apolo-" But she was already moving past it, cutting off his chance to apologize for his fumble. She wasn't wrong with her next words, he would like to know her name - but if Mother Matilda found out he had implied, even accidentally, that someone was a lady of the night...even in his early twenties, he knew the shrewd old woman would happily tan his hide.

Henry shook his head sharply when the dark-skinned woman called over her shoulder to him, and he exhaled softly. Well, there was no help for it at this point, even if he did feel like a bit of a heel for implying she was in that profession. He'd have to make amends for it. He twisted his staff back into the holster on his bag and started walking after Yvonne, slinging his fiddle case around as he soon overtook her. He gave the black-haired woman a sheepish smile and shortened his strides so she wouldn't have to hurry to keep up, as nimble fingers unattached the case.

Soon enough, the now empty case fell back, hanging on its straps as Henry brought his fiddle up, and set the bowstick to the cords. He started playing as he led the way down the street, towards the large, slightly ramshackle structure in the distance that served as the local orphanage. The music was soft and light as he walked, and it was more to give him something to focus on with his hands than anything else. His fingers danced back and forth as he played, and collected his thoughts.

"I apologize for some poor word choice there, and I apologize in advance - the others at the orphanage are a mixed bunch, and some of them are.. Abrasive." Bright blue eyes slid sideways, down to the woman walking beside him as he strode down the path through the sprawling yard of the orphanage, through rusty gates that had seen better days. The orphanage hadn't been a mansion, no, but it had definitely been close in its heyday, a large, expansive building. Mother Matilda was the last of the home's original family line, and her children had died in the Civil War.

Heads began to pop up in windows, and shrieks of joy could be heard, muffled by walls and distance. Henry picked up his paceslightly, tucking his fiddle and stick under his arm as he reached the door and held it open for the woman, tilting his head slightly. "After you." He smiled gently.

Yvonne
04-26-2018, 09:16 AM
Together they walked the road to the orphanage, Henry's fiddle in hand he played a delicate ditty while Yvonne hummed neatly in tune with his music. The last note strummed, the melody quietened to silence and the smooth minstrel decided it was the ideal time to apologize. Oh how the tables had turned. She was all apologies in the beginning and he had the choice between forgiveness and cruelty. It would seem the half-dwarf had the same choice to make. Would she forgive? Would she be cruel?

Henry held the door for her, allowing Yvonne the opportunity to enter the manor before him. His sense of chivalry was worthy of praise. A kind smile encouraged her inside, not a beaming grin anymore - still a little taken aback with her reaction she'd wager. As they stood in limbo - limbo between the outside world and the place he knew to be home - it was her turn to smile. A smile as warm and vivid as he'd bestowed with forgiveness. Her silver eyes flared wide with enjoyment and she started giggling, couldn't-- couldn't keep her laughter in. Gotcha. Yvonne one, Henry zero.

"Think nothing of it sweetheart. Me closest childhood friends were prostitutes. From those I've had tha pleasure of meeting I can say they be wonderful souls. Almost as wonderful as ye," she whispered, stroking his self-esteem soothingly. "I imagine ye love yer foster-brothers and foster-sisters dearly. We have that in common, a bond with family not of yer own blood. In a similar way ... three escorts were big sisters ta me." Yvonne touched the bard's elbow reassuringly, her gentle fingertips a momentary comfort as she passed through the doorway.

"Yer concern for me feelings be thrilling though," she said slyly, winking back at him. The dainty dwarf made her way into a wide open room, what looked to be a lobby or foyer. The orphanage was rustic inside as it was ramshackle outside, but there lingered a refined grandeur in the old building yet. You merely needed to remove your rose-tinted glasses to see it. Now that Yvonne was well inside the manor and felt safe - with the sun retired for the day - she raised her protective goggles from her eyes to have a better look at the place, resting them on her forehead. She was half-expecting a butler to attend her but she was out of luck there.

The Alerar-born contemplated Henry's second unnecessary apology, listening to all the sounds that resonated throughout the house, her elven ears detecting so many goings-on further inside. Yvonne could hear a bubbling pot in a distant kitchen. The clinks of setting cutlery and taps of bowls being placed at a table. She could hear the splashing of bathwater and soaked cleaning cloths slapping the water's surface. Girlish squeals of excitement, boyish laughter. The creak of the wooden door closing behind her as the minstrel followed her in. The drumming of little running feet on the floorboards a floor above her. They would be here to greet their big brother in five, four, three...

"We each work through our troubles in our own ways," the mixed breed justified for them, ever-aware there would be bullies. It was a house full of children after all. She was no stranger to mean children.

The Rambler
04-26-2018, 01:12 PM
Henry had only a few moments to ponder her words before the stampede reached him. The three energetic brats who had latched onto him on the street were the first to reach them, having been certain of his arrival. "Henry! You did bring the short lady! Yay!" This came from Theo, who was now clinging to Henry's side. Behind these three though came four more children near their age - preteens, bubbling over with energy and excitement. Henry had only a moment to twist himself as he was swarmed under children, and he fell over, landing on his side with laughter bubbling out of his throat.

"Easy, easy you little monsters!" He had been holding his fiddle out when he toppled over, and his outstretched arm was now poking through the seven children who were hugging their victim tightly. The kids were talking, babbling over one another in their excitement as they refused to let one another get an opportunity to speak alone. Each one wanted Henry's attention on them, and didn't want to give it up to any of the others.

Except for Theo, who had leapt off of Henry when the older male had fallen over. The boy was now standing close to the dark-skinned girl, and was beaming at her with the kind of grin only children could match. Down the halls, more footsteps were coming, albeit at more sedate paces. Soon enough a range of teens came into view, though there was only one as old as Henry in attendance, all the others were younger by several years. Three looked to be young teens themselves, closer in age to the kids that had swarmed the musician, while two of them looked to be the same age as the teen who had come into town earlier. That teen, Lethro, was not present at the moment. The last two teens looked to be a couple years older than the other.

"Children. That is enough, do be so kind as to allow your brother to regain his feet." The sharp, strident voice barked out a command from one doorway, as the speaker stepped into view. It was clear this was Matilda, an older woman with a shock of stark white hair pulled up into a severe bun on the back of her head. She was leaning, ever so slightly, on a polished metal cane. At her command, the six kids that were still laughing and keeping Henry on the ground rapidly moved off of the brown-haired man, finally allowing him to stand up. He rose, and moved over to the old woman, who peered up at him through half-moon glasses. Henry took her hand and bowed over it, and she studied him for a moment.

"You've grown. I thought you had finished with that, Henry. Now give me a proper hug, you scoundrel." Henry let out a helpless laugh and wrapped his arms around Matilda, who gave him a brief hug back, patting his hip with her cane. Then her eyes swung to the short, dark skinned woman, and they narrowed, measuring the woman. "Who is this then? You haven't gone and gotten some poor girl pregnant, have you?" Her gaze swung back to Henry, who had turned a vivid red.

"N-no! Mother Matilda, no! I met her in town, and the kids invited her along." The old woman harrumphed and turned her attention to the girl again.

Yvonne
04-27-2018, 09:07 AM
Yvonne effortlessly sidestepped the stampede, letting Henry have it. She recognized the kids from the street, especially Theo. They tackled him before anyone else could. Soon he was overrun by seven kids in all, more than enough teamwork to bring him down. Their energy, their elation for their brother returned home - their love for him assured the half-dwarf that the affection she had for him was warranted. Their cheering in unison, their happy shrieks as they collapsed to the floor told her the story of Henry, greatest big brother in the whole universe. There was no doubt in her mind, this was a man she needed to get to know better.

Theo stood out from his brothers and sisters, the only child brave enough, curious enough - or perhaps the only child unaffected by racial differences - to come close to her. It was a simplistic act but in doing so he separated himself from his little peers. Apart from Henry he was the only one to take a place at the mixed blood's side. The gesture of good will was not lost on her, knowing if the rest of the kids turned against her he might be picked on too. She had to make sure that didn't happen, but as more and more kids arrived in the lobby from adjoining rooms she felt light-headed. There was so many hearts for her to win over and she had no idea how to accomplish that feat. Perhaps if she could somehow impress the majority, the remainders would be convinced by their siblings to give her a chance.

The matriarch of the house commanded the children to let Henry be and their discipline, the way Matilda had disciplined them was unmistakable. The kids fell back in line immediately, their time of play was over. Yvonne's eyes were drawn to the all-powerful woman - her presence in the room carried authority, her word was law in this place. You broke that law at your own peril and no one would side with you against the matron. You broke her rules and you were on your own. Yvonne learned all of this in a matter of seconds, from the body language of the children, from the suddenly stringent atmosphere.

Henry paid his respects to his foster parent, a bow, a hug and some brief catching up she was owed. It wasn't long before Yvonne was beneath Matilda's severe scrutiny. She was measuring the newcomer for the kind of woman she was, the matriarch questioned her moral fiber and whether she was a good person. Indeed, a worthy question to seek the answer to. The matron was a lioness deciding between welcoming a hyena among her cubs or aggressively chasing it off. It wouldn't have been a difficult choice if Henry hadn't been caught up in the mix, but here they were, seemingly together.

The old woman's question of pregnancy brought a coy smile to Yvonne's cheeks. She lowered her eyes modestly, flicked a look at Henry and noticed his beetroot-red embarrassment. She couldn't help but giggle at that but felt fairly certain Mama Matilda wasn't kidding around, so she kept her composure. Not yet he hasn't, though he definitely be thinking about getting me pregnant now. Thank ye for that. It be a great way ta put tha order in for grandchildren. Yvonne was grinning happily at her own thoughts and the matron wasn't impressed at all.

"Hello," the hyena began unsteadily, an uncommon bout of nerves claiming her stomach. Awkward pause, but she found her voice. "Me name be Yvonne, of the dwarven clan Mythrilmantle." The clan name sounded fancy but she didn't include it for flair. It was a significant signed agreement of transparency, intended for Matilda's knowledge. Her clan name gave the lioness the hyena's identity and information on a person could be very valuable, especially if you knew how to exploit it.

With Yvonne declaring who she was should anything happen to the cubs (Henry included) Matilda could hunt down the hyena's pack in its own territory and hold every Mythrilmantle accountable for the transgression. Not personally of course, but you didn't reach her age without meeting a problem-solver or two. The cane she leaned upon was gently utilized and those wrinkles didn't indicate frailty - far from it. They were proof the matriarch had thrice the life experience when compared with the diminutive drow before her. The hybrid would never underestimate what the shrewd old woman was capable of.

Fear of the unknown was one of the most frightening fears experienced by humans. As the rowdy children descended into hushed silence, they stared, wondering why Yvonne looked the way she did. Her silver eyes passed over each of their faces. She'd seen these faces before. Anxiety, bewilderment and confusion, mistrust and suspicion, sneering and sniggering, uncertainty, wide-eyed wonder. Why can't I look normal? It hurt, all of it. Of course it did though she concealed it masterfully, focusing on Theo's beaming grin. She smiled so warmly at him but expressing her gratitude almost brought tears to her eyes. He was her little rock right now and this was not the time to reveal weakness.

In this moment her place was to show respect, for the matron of the house, for the wards in her care and for the house itself, territory in which she was currently trespassing - seemingly without good reason. Let's face it, the invitation of a child does not compare to the lady of the house's acceptance, and that acceptance had yet to be earned. Yvonne's opportunity at an extraordinary first impression was elapsing. The silence in the room was deafening. She could do so much more than this.

Yvonne spoke to Matilda and Matilda alone.

"When I learned there be an orphanage here I wanted ta offer assistance. Minding so many wee ones must be very difficult. I would like ta volunteer a hand. An extra pair of lookers ta keep an eye on the young ones wouldn't go astray. I'm well practiced in tha art of keeping a house clean, no stranger ta hard work and I know me way around a kitchen. Yer home be very beautiful in me honest opinion. Ma owns an establishment of similar size and splendor. Given a chance I could help set tha table, serve dinner and clean up afterward. Ye'll be having no trouble from this one, I assure ye."

With that Yvonne had said her piece and she lowered her head, her silver eyes cast to the floorboards. Her black hands held the edges of her equally black skirt which she gently pulled aside. The hybrid placed her right heel behind her left and bent her knees, back rigidly straight as she lowered herself into a curtsy, a curtsy which she held. Yvonne knew her place. She would stay here, painfully low, her eyes closed. She would not arise until the matron of the house allowed it. Comfort in her home was hers alone to give.

Matilda's turn to decide between kindness and cruelty.

The Rambler
04-27-2018, 01:03 PM
"Hmm." Mother Matilda let out a distinctly non-committal noise as she studied Yvonne. The air was tense, though not with hostility, but more of an air of uncertainty, not that any sign of that at all showed on the old woman's face. Even bright, shining Theo began to fidget a little bit as Matilda judged the woman. Eventually, the white-haired woman rapped her cane twice on the ground, and swung her piercing gaze back to Henry.

"Well now. For a first guest that you have brought home since you began your travels, this one is certainly polite enough. Rise, girl. Guests do not help set tables, and for now that is your role. Oliver, Tamara, Hector." Three of the children straightened up. "You three are not guests. Go with Adrianna, set the table and begin bringing out the stew." Adrianna, a brown-eyed blonde, was apparently close to Henry's age, the only adult other than Henry and Matilda who called the orphanage home. She ushered the children in her charge away, and that seemed to break the spell on the others, who almost all disappeared, though they could easily be heard rushing about to washrooms and the sound of running water soon followed.

The other teens all headed off to their own chores, leaving Henry, Yvonne, and Matilda alone in the entry hall. The old woman was silent for a moment, before breaking the quiet. "I'll not say we need more help at the moment, girl. The older children look after the younger, and Adrianna and Henry, when this rapscallion decides to visit, provide ample role models. But talks of business can be saved for after dinner, when the young ones have all gone off to bed. Now come you two. Henry, do tell me how you met this pleasant young foreigner." As she questioned the musician, she was already walking at a stately pace down the hall. Henry blinked twice, and ran one hand through his hair, pushing some of the shaggy locks away from his face before he gave the dark-skinned woman a nod and followed after the caretaker.

"We encountered each other in a market, albeit unexpectedly. There was definitely an impact when we met, I can say that." Matilda paused at the threshold of a door when Henry answered her, and cast one sharp eye over her shoulder at the young man, who gave her a bright smile. The white-haired woman snorted and swept into the room, pushing the door open to reveal a long dining hall. The table and chairs weren't in peak condition, but did seem cared for - though it was easy to see that people of different levels of skill had repaired different chairs at times.

Matilda took her seat beside the head of the table, in one of the more intact and well-prepared chairs. Henry was thumped with her cane, which then pointed at some hooks near the door, and he let out a sheepish laugh before removing his pack and hanging it on one, then pulled off his travel cloak and hung it over the same hook. He turned his attention to Yvonne. "Do you have anything you need hung up, Miss Yvonne?" He tilted his head to one side.

Behind him, the children that had been named earlier were flitting in and out of the dining room, setting out plates with low, wide-rimmed bowls at various spots. Mugs and pitchers soon followed. Adrianna came in, bearing a large pot from which steam could be seen wafting upwards - and with it, came a strong scent of tomatoes and meat. This was set down at the end of the table, at the head of the table next to Matilda.

"You gotta sit next to me and Bubba. S'the rules, guests sit next to the people who invited them!" Bright, energetic, curious Theo spoke up, from where he was still hanging near Yvonne's side. He was pointing at the seat across from Matilda - the seat to the other side of the head of the table where the full pot of stew had been settled.

Yvonne
04-28-2018, 09:04 AM
Yvonne arose, allowing her skirt to flow where it may. As simple as that. Now she was welcome at the orphanage - and so the age-old riddle was answered. What happens when an unstoppable force collides with an immovable object? They revealed their respect for each other - Yvonne and Matilda - and they each carried on unchanged, remaining themselves. Henry's escort continued to be undeniable and the lady of the house endured, unshakable. One would have her way one way or another - the other had everything the way she wanted it.

Three children were hand-picked to help Adrianna - a young woman close to Henry and Yvonne's age - set the table and serve dinner. Every remaining child knew what time it was about to become, and more importantly the tasks they needed to complete before it did, without another word from Mother Matilda. Nothing further necessary. No stragglers. Such was her influence over them, her power and authority.

Yvonne hoped beyond hope that, one day, she would wield the same unspoken, unthreatened sway over others. So much power that she needed not even exert it. Power enough that others merely did what they knew she needed done. No complaints. No questions asked. Her people would have an understanding. They would know she was doing what was right. They would realize she was a woman who could achieve the impossible. They would recognize they all had a vital role to play, to help her achieve a world free of suffering.

It seemed a distant dream, knowing her place in society now. Considered an outcast in her own homeland, and - as Matilda put it so eloquently - a foreigner in this one. She was an outsider in every land she had ever set foot - from Alerar to Dheathain, from Fallien to Scara Brae. She cared for every nation but it didn't matter where she was, the people that lived there looked upon her with disdain. One day, she promised herself, one day that would all change. She would make it so.

The diminutive drow gave Henry an affectionate smile. She laughed inwardly - though it touched her eyes - about his explanation of their meeting, its double-meaning. To be interpreted however one wished, and Yvonne knew by Matilda's snort which way she had leaned. They made their way into the dining hall, the heart of the house - a room that brought all-comers together in one place. She was moved by the matron's acceptance, to be welcomed into her home, to share a place among her family.

Yvonne had not forgotten her manners, unlike Henry. She'd not approached the table without cleansing herself of unnecessary articles of clothing. "Thank ye dear. Yer very kind," she answered fondly. Hanging her goggles up made her nervous, as the lenses were glass and could easily be broken, especially when childlike hands became curious. Her scarf was a lesser concern. Drawing it out long from her neck, she pulled it one-handed, looping it over the same wall-hook her goggles dangled from much as Henry had done. The rest of her belongings, her backpack and herb kit in particular she had left behind, in her room at the inn.

A familiar voice piped up beside her - a voice she was growing to love, a little more every time she listened to him - Theo, explaining where she was to sit and who to sit with. She was so impressed with his knowledge of protocol, with his willingness to give advice and share what he understood with people he barely knew. He was a remarkable little boy.

"Those be excellent rules and I'll be sure ta follow them ta tha letter," Yvonne replied adoringly. She bent down to his level - it wasn't far - and whispered to him. "Don't tell Henry, but I get ta sit next ta me favourite tonight," she confessed to the young one, causing both of them to beam grins and extracting another secretive giggle from Theo, her eyes flicking to Henry whom had naturally overheard. She pulled out the chair for the little one and he leaped up onto it with his notable energy, staring at her appreciatively. Henry was already seated to her left and she raised an eyebrow at him, contemplating how he'd managed to acquire a nickname like Bubba from the darling to her left, Theo.

Yvonne made certain that every adult, every boy and girl had taken their place at the dining table, and only then did she allow herself to sit. Her position at the table was a corner chair to Henry's right. The wandering minstrel was seated at the head of the table, while Matilda perched on the chair to Henry's left, across from Yvonne. The table positioning spoke volumes. The arrangement was telling, without words.

Matilda and Yvonne, while they were each Henry's greatest supporters in their own way, sitting closest to him, would also be at odds with each other. The grey dwarf needed to be very careful not to offend the matron, or allow their supposed 'business' discussion after dinner to degrade into an argument. Letting that happen might damage Henry's support structure and both sides were important to him. Likewise Matilda had to allow Yvonne at least a fleeting chance, lest she offend the man of the house. They needed to co-operate. When all was said and done however he would have the final say - everyone would need to respect his decision.

The dark-skinned dwarf kept her mouth closed. She would not even look at the food, not until her host bid her do so. I wonder whether they say grace here or not.

The Rambler
04-30-2018, 09:17 PM
Henry settled into the seat at the head of the table, and let some of his tension fade. He was not stupid - he had caught the heavy air between his guest and Mother Matilda, but he was not about to interfere in their unspoken dance of wills. Both of them did seem to be settling for the dinner meal, so for now at least he could let things be. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled gently, then smiled to Yvonne, and looked across the table.

Adrianna and her helpers had brought in platters carrying the bread that he had brought in, sliced up. What wasn't in the stew to help thicken it, that was. In front of him was the large crock pot holding the rich stew, and beside it was a stack of bowls. Pitchers and cups sat near the spots that everyone was now filling, the younger kids squirming as they fidgeted in their seats. Henry cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself as he lifted his voice.

"Alright everyone. We're going to have a few moments of silence so you all can say your prayers. For those who don't worship, just remain silent and respectful." Of course, being kids, it was unlikely they'd be able to remain silent the entire time, but at least they would try, and Henry knew none of them would actively speak up. Silence held reign as his bright blue eyes swept along the table.

The smallest children were mumbling audibly, their words just barely below understandable. They tried, but they weren't used to being quiet normally. The older children did better, either only mouthing the words, or being silent as one observed the teenagers. There were a few who were different though - Mother Matilda was openly praying to the Thaynes, asking them to watch over those she had taken into her household. Adrianna and Henry were also different - the two eldest of the orphans were both silently watching over the table.

Henry nodded to Adrianna and slid his eyes over to Yvonne, curious to see if his impromptu guest was praying herself. From what he knew, the Aleran people tended to hold no faith in religion, and most actively disliked magic. Still, there were always outliers in any given group, so he wasn't immediately discounting the fact that she might say grace herself. He didn't let his gaze remain on her for very long, though, instead shifting in his seat and clearing his throat, breaking the hush.

"Alright you lot." He began ladling out the stew and passing it around, gaging each bowl for who it would end up with and filling it more or less depending on what he remembered their appetites were like. The loaves of bread were broken and spread around, at least one slice going to everyone. Henry filled a smaller portion for mother Matilda, and tore apart her slice of bread for her as she gave him a brief, tight smile of thanks.

"How much would you like, Miss Yvonne?" The man raised one eyebrow as he turned his attention to her, ladle hovering over a bowl for her. She was the only one he didn't know the actual preference for, so he was hesitant to overfill her bowl.

"Henry, Henry! Tell us about your travels! Come on, tell!" It seemed the children were eager to be regaled, and the minstrel gave the silver-eyed woman a sheepish grin as he filled her bowl partially.

"Children." The sharp word from Matilda quieted most of the youths down, though she swung her own sharp gaze to Henry. "They are not wrong to ask, merely in how they ask. Your letter home have been infrequent, young man." Henry laughed ruefully and rubbed the back of his head.

"Come now, I've not been gone that long! How much mischief could I possibly have gotten-"

"You forget that you did mention the bandits?" It was Adrianna who cut him off, and Henry paused and blinked, his eyes going wide.

"Yea yea, the bandits! Come on Henry, tell us about them!" This came from of the children who had helped Adrianna out in the kitchen - apparently, the little girl felt obliged to help out. Henry shook his head.

"Peace you lot, peace! Right. The bandits, the bandits... Ah, yes. I hat was when I saved the damsel in distress." The sounds of dinner quieted, and Henry saw Matilda raise an eyebrow. He grinned. "Oh yes. Three rather brutish men, attacking one woman alone in the woods. I could not exactly stand aside, so of course I went to help. And I proved how smart it is to pay attention in your lessons with the armsmaster in town - the bandits were quickly beaten! Arrows flew, and staves spun as they were taken out. Only -" Henry smirked and took a bite of his stew, slowly savoring it. He heard a whine, and chuckled before continuing.

" Only I found out that it was no damsel in distress - in fact, I ended up having to save the bandits!" He heard one of the young girls gasp. "Mmm, yes. They'd picked the wrong person to attack - their would-be victim was actually a kind of - now don't let this scare you - a kind of vampire. Thankfully, I was able to convince her to let the men go without killing them, at least the two that survived the attack. Rather nice woman, when she wasn't trying to kill someone." He laughed.

Yvonne
05-01-2018, 09:13 AM
The Aleran wasn't praying to anyone.

The pervasion of sel darthirii enlightenment which had spread over her own dwarven customs, like tar over grass thousands of years ago saw to that. The dark elven way was all Yvonne had been taught. For the tutor of her youth to teach her anything more cultured would have been inviting punishment into their multi-functional home, if they were ever caught in the act of religious education. Possibly even death to her teacher, depending on the severity of the crime. Dwarven religion had been stamped out, their idols shattered into rubble and their minds brainwashed toward thoughts more experimental, mechanical and scientific. Their deities were abolished while their mastery of the pickaxe, the hammer and anvil was encouraged.

That didn't mean Yvonne had to like it. Far from it. It was funny really. Ironic. The same encouragement of broad-mindedness, free-thinking and progressive, revolutionary thoughts led her to question those that oppressed her. In doing so she had come to the conclusion that her dark elven overseers were in the wrong - that they should never have affected the peoples in their way all those years ago so monumentally, when they invaded her homeland. Everywhere that Yvonne had tread she had sought co-existence with the people around her, because of the way she had been treated in her youth. She may have given a disciplinary scolding to individuals who didn't co-exist peacefully with others, but tyranny wasn't exactly her thing.

She rebelled against tyranny, especially here, safely on the other side of the known world. Here at the dinner table of humans, not a dark elf in sight to dispute her actions - where there was no fear of reprisal - she silently said grace. Her back remained straight in her chair, her almond-shaped eyes closed plainly for all to see, those they dared flick a look when they should have been saying grace themselves. Hers was not a prayer to anyone in particular which she was aware of, and yet, she did hope for someone, somewhere out there to be hearing her.

Protect those which be unable ta protect themselves. Lift tha downtrodden from tha earth beneath ye and punish those that put them there. Guide tha outcasts of this world toward refuge and cast out into tha cold those that exiled them. If ye cannot then lend me tha influence ta do so for ye. I acknowledge ye have gifted me with refuge and sustenance one more time tonight and I will not squander tomorrow. For safeguarding me so that I might safeguard others, I thank ye.

Henry's voice brought her attention back to the here and now, her black eyelids receding and revealing silver. Her love interest was cradling a meal bowl in one hand and wielding a ladle with the other, wondering how much soup she sought. Yvonne smiled appreciatively - there were those gentleman's manners of his again, preparing her dinner for her - and she raised a humble open hand barely above the tabletop to slow him.

"Only a modest serving for me, thank you Henry. I be tubbly bubbly enough about tha middle already, no need ta encourage me," Yvonne divulged. The comment caused a ripple of giggles to cascade around the table throughout the children, though truthfully - as far as dwarven standards went specifically - she was lean with a tight middle and wide hips. She was definitely happy with her breaking of the ice, so many delighted smiling faces looking at her now.

Yvonne nodded softly knowing Henry had only partly filled her bowl, beaming a smile at him while the titters of their reactions quietened down. She relieved him of the bowl and placed it before her, not touching it yet as it would be rude to dig in immediately. Instead she filled her cup, from the pitcher nearest her with water, also leaving it be for the moment.

The grey dwarf listened closely as Henry unfolded a tale from his travels. She covertly rolled her eyes at how cliché the story was going to be - a heroic young man that arrives in the nick of time to save the damsel in distress, reluctantly called to action by his moral compass, overcoming overwhelming odds and saving the day.

Colour her intrigued when she learned the damsel in this story knew how to fend for herself, slaying and perhaps feeding on one of her aggressors-turned-victims, and the hero had to rescue the two foolish men which had underestimated the woman. Yvonne grinned, her eyes aglow with amusement and curiosity. Noticing the host of the table had begun to chew his stew the foreigner acquired her spoon, lifting a sip for herself. Mmm, deliciously simplistic. It could use a herb, some spices...

It was not Yvonne's place to question the meal set before her and she did enjoy it, truthfully. Difficult to be completely satisfied with a basic meal, that's all, considering her culinary skills were quite practiced. That said she'd been on the open road long enough to accept anything she was given. It be leagues ahead of tha time I fed meself on cave-slime and witchetty grubs. Perhaps all it required was a little more crunch, like that time in the cave. A piece of bread to go with her soup and she was quite content.

The Rambler
05-09-2018, 11:20 PM
"Alright children, that's enough questions for your brother. Finish eating and wash up for bed." Matilda's soft, stern voice cut off any further questions from the young children that were clustered around the table, and the kids resumed eating with only mild looks of disappointment on their faces. Henry himself let out a slight chuckle and nodded to the matriarch of the orphanage, as he too focused on eating. Silence descended on the table as the boys and girls, young and teens proved their hunger, devouring the hearty stew and the loaves of bread that were on the table.

Afterwards, it was Adrianna and Lethro who corralled the younglings into actually clearing up the table, shepherding them away and leaving the table clear. When the last of the dishes had been taken away, Matilda calmly folded her hands together on the table in front of her. Henry leaned back in his seat slightly, his own hands dropping down to rest on the arms of the chair as he tilted his head to one side, eyes flicking between the two women.

"So then, Miss Yvonne. You hope to help here, at the orphanage. I can see that you are no stranger to hard work, and the children are not likely to think your skin tone strange, nor your size overly much - they are young after all, and not yet exposed to entrenched opinions of the region. But I must wonder on why this desire, to help near total strangers - do you merely hope to gain familiarity with the region and go your own way after a period of time?" Shrewd eyes focused on the dark skinned woman.

"Or do you, perhaps, think to work here to get close to this ruffian?" Henry let out a snort at Matilda's words, and shook his head slightly. The old woman didn't know it, but he had only met Yvonne this day, only shortly before the children found him in the village. He rather doubted the foreign woman was all that interested in him - he was a simple, rather boring man in his own opinion. His words died unspoken when Matilda cut her gaze to him, and he shook his head with a rueful smile.

"If the latter is the case, I hope you are aware that the vagabond does not spend much time here, visiting only once every few months or so. Or - is there something else propelling you to this possible opportunity?" Henry temporarily 'quelled', the old woman refocused her intense, studying gaze on Yvonne once more. Watching her, weighing her.

Yvonne
05-11-2018, 06:08 AM
Yvonne sipped two more spoonfuls of her soup making that three altogether. This was the polite moment to enter into the conversation. She’d had a modest taste of dinner and the twenty questions had begun. The Alerian brought her napkin to her lips delicately, resettling it over her lap afterward.

“I offered me services ta keep meself busy, Mother. I don’t like ta rest on me laurels. Time be short and there be much ta do,” Yvonne explained, feeling unusually reserved beneath Matilda’s unrelenting gaze.

Was it how matter-of-factly she broached the subjects of her skin tone and lack of height? Or was it the civilized accusation she was going to leave this place before long regardless - she was essentially unreliable. Yvonne resumed her soup-sipping, tasting another three spoonfuls to give herself a moment to assemble her defenses, gather her resolve. It was folly to lie to an elderly woman and foolish to speak in half-truths. Their experience always allowed them to see right through you.

“In truth yer polite decline won’t discourage me - tha baker, tha blacksmith or tha local inn all may have need of me. It be an intention of mine ta ingratiate meself with as many of Stonevale’s inhabitants as possible. Yer orphanage be tha first stop toward proving ta tha people here there be more than one side ta dark elves. That one of us be worthy of trust and respect. That one of us can stand out from tha rest as kind and helpful,” Yvonne revealed, feeling somewhat insecure as she was laid bare before the old woman’s harsh scrutiny.

The half-dwarf took another bite of her bread, blinking her confused silver eyes many times, feeling long-winded like she had said too much and yet disconnected - said too little. She tried to keep the sigh from escaping her but it wouldn’t listen. At least it was soft.

“Yer right ta allude toward tha probability I may be moving on in time. Henry and I have it in common. Goodbye be a certainty but it doesn’t mean I can’t lend a hand here in tha meantime. I have allies and friends in far away places and one day their call will take me away from this quiet little burb,” the grey dwarf admitted, having a drink from her glass of water. The cool liquid felt cleansing and revitalizing.

Feeling better Yvonne concluded her little speech, saying, “That said I never forget where I’ve come from and I believe tha next generation after me be of utmost importance. The wee ones deserve tha best chance at a good life, a better upbringing than mine, because one day they will be tha ones influencing society. A rough time of it when young could have an adverse affect on them during their adult life.”

Yvonne fell silent. Her eyes subtly widened. She may have overstepped her place there - that last sentence could be construed as insulting to her adversary.

Yvonne, Yvonne, Yvonne… ye and yer big mouth. She glanced at Henry for support.

The Rambler
05-17-2018, 01:20 PM
"Each and every one of my children bears a stigma of their own, child." Matilda's voice was steady and hard as she stared at Yvonne, her fingers laced in front of her. Henry himself had leaned back in his chair and was rubbing his chin, his eyes tilted up as he thought. Matilda continued on, her gaze boring into Yvonne's silver eyes. "Orphans, either of the War or of attacks on the villages in the area." Henry's eyes snapped towards the orphanage caretaker, his lips thinning into a hard line. The old woman tilted her head to him for a moment, considering him, then rolled one shoulder in a brief shrug.

"Hm. Well then." Matilda's eyes flickered away from Henry, and she seemed to subside. Her fingers drummed against her hands as she thought for a second before continuing.
"If you wish to help and will not be dissuaded from that course of action, then I will not argue that we do not need help. Very well. There is plenty of room here in this old house, even with the children all present we rattle like peas in an empty tin. I'm sure Henry can help you find a room to claim as your own. In exchange, I shall take you up on your offer of assistance around the house it will be pleasant to have another with etiquette helping me train the children." She let out a short snort after she finished speaking, and her imposing gaze swung back to the male in the room.

"Henry, how long will you be staying? I am sure the children are looking forward to spending time with you." Henry hummed and rapped his fingers on the table, the strikes against the wood falling into a tempo as he thought.

"I will probably spend a week or two here. I know the munchkins have missed me, and I want to see how their music lessons are progressing." Matilda let out a soft chuckle, a tired sound as she shook her head. "Oh come now, don't tell me they've all chosen other arts, at least one of them had to chase after me, right?" Henry was grinning slightly as he asked the question, and the old woman shrugged again.

"I know one of them has been sneaking into the music room to practice, but they hide whenever anyone else comes around. Other than that, no, most of them are only giving it the minumum of effort. You know how it is, my dear. You were the odd one out, not the norm." Matilda gave Henry a fond smile, and the man ran long fingers through his hair as he let out a rueful sigh. "Now then. I shall leave you two discussions, and do make sure to show her to an empty room." Matilda rose gracefully from her seat, and bowed to Yvonne once. Henry nodded, once, as the older woman strode out of the room purposefully.

When she was gone, he leaned back in his seat again, tipping it back onto its rear two legs. His knees caught on the table and prevented him from going back any further as he brought his hands up and laced his fingers together behind his head, turning his bright blue eyes to the dark-skinned woman sitting beside him. She was still eating, at a far more sedate pace than the children had after Matilda told them to finish. The musician hummed under his breath, a soft tune.

"You're not the only one, you know. I've heard of another drow wandering the outer lands, though he seems to stick to the Salvar region. Some kind of mercenary hunter, takes odd jobs for villages that can't afford normal hunting squads. I -" He broke off for a moment. "Not making light of you, miss Yvonne. Just letting you know that you aren't alone."

Yvonne
05-18-2018, 04:09 PM
Yvonne felt thoroughly returned to her place as Matilda replied, the Mother’s tone bringing her back down to earth, the finality of her statement reminding her she was still a child in the eyes of this woman. She still had so much to learn, for all she had learned thus far and for how she’d been forced to maturity so swiftly. There was plenty yet in need of her consideration.

It was often difficult to walk the fine line between truly asserting herself and remaining behind the line in the sand of courtesy. For someone who had been bludgeoned to the point of near death as a child she easily overcompensated with who she was and the things she deemed needed saying. Others hadn’t spared her a thought back then - excluding her own mother, who was the most wonderful parent she’d ever known, and her mother’s girls of course - but everyone outside her front door had been hostile until Abel. So to keep others in mind as she made statements about her beliefs - let’s face it, she tried her best as she’d been tutored but there was refinement to be approached yet.

Henry’s astute rescue hadn’t escaped her sensitive silver eyes. She was more than aware of how effective well-timed facial expressions and body language could be in alleviating a potential argument. Neither was she ignorant to the notion that Henry had chosen to oppose his Matron’s line of thinking and side with the hybrid, brokering a peace between the three of them perhaps, but at what cost?

Yvonne had a sneaking suspicion the happy go lucky minstrel would, unluckily, find himself elbow deep in dish water after their next supper. He had crossed Matilda and while that was fine - we each make our own choices and follow our own path - there would be some kind of consequence for following a path the Matron didn’t necessarily approve of. The half-and-halfling decided she would be there to support him when the time came, wielding a drying cloth, battling the goblin-infested mountain of dishes together by his side.

She resumed her far more practiced skill of listening, holding her tongue and finishing up her soup. The baker’s bread was her favourite part of the meal, to be sure, her shifty fingers attracting the last crust from the middle of the table. She wondered whether this one had been the loaf she’d dislodged and subsequently caught upon their meeting. As she slipped the piece between her pillow lips and chewed thoughtfully, the conclusion she came to was that she would never know.

Yvonne had not anticipated Matilda’s bow before she retired for the night, caught with a mouthful of bread in her mouth - the drow-dwarf crossbreed offered the same respect as earnestly as she could in her chair, bobbing and nodding with an extended arm and hand at her side. She dared not chew until the Mother had paced from the room. When the elderly woman was well out of sight Yvonne turned back to the table, swallowing her food.

Her sterling silver eyes gazed into Henry’s wells of blue, smiling fondly over a subtle sparkle she found there. Yvonne loved how cocky he was being, confident in his equilibrium as he tenuously balanced his chair upon its back legs - it almost gave a feeling of floating above the ground and a person could draw assurance from the act. She placed the sole of her heel gently against his chair leg nearest to her, eyes flashing as she let him know his fate in the next moment was hers to decide. The little one could push him back into a clumsy, clattering descent onto the floor, or…

Yvonne lowered him down to all fours, receding her heel down the leg. As he instinctively gripped the table for safety she reached out to his hand with her own, soothing his sudden worry with her soft, caressing fingertips.

“That be a very smooth line ye have there,” she purred, smiling even more than she already was. “I bet it be effective on many of yer girlfriends. Does it mean I … have ye ta keep me company?”

The Rambler
05-24-2018, 09:48 PM
Henry blinked twice when he was returned to the ground, firmly planted once more, and one eyebrow started to rise. There hadn't been an admonishment tied to the action, which was what Matilda or Adrianna would have done if they'd seen him leaning like that, just the motion to set him back down on the ground.

As he held onto the table to steady himself from the unexpected movement, he felt soft fingers dance against the back of his hand, gentle strokes that slid across his like silk. Both eyebrows shot upwards in bemusement as he looked at the brazen young woman, and tilted his head to one side as he considered her. One corner of his mouth curled up as he let out a soft laugh and shook his head.

"You speak like I've had a plethora of relationships, which is far, far from the truth Miss Yvonne. I think the closest I've been with a woman who wasn't Adrianna, who is a sister to me, was when that Dhampir I mentioned decided if she couldn't feed on the bandits she should feed on me." Henry's free hand brushed the side of his neck where fangs had pierced his skin, and he suppressed the shudder that accompanied the memory. Instead of dwelling on that, he focused on the young woman beside him, bright blue eyes peering at her intently.

"And I suppose you have an ally in me, yes. I know Mother Matilda can be a gruff woman, but she does care. I'm sure she'll warm up to you while you're here, and even if she doesn't admit it, she will probably be happy to have some more help with the little ones." It was something that tore at Henry at times, in truth. He knew Matilda and Adrianna needed help here, more than what the teens like Lethro could give. But he also knew that he couldn't stay for very long - remaining in one place for any significant amount of time drove him mad, and his wanderlust had resulted in a fair few misadventures when he was growing up. Matilda attributed half of the white in her hair to age - and the other half to Henry scaring her to death.

In any case - Henry was not a fool. He wasn't sure why, but Yvonne seemed interested in him, enough to be a bit forward in her actions. Growing up with the others had given the musician a glib tongue, but that was all he'd gotten practice with - teasing and flirting was safe for teens growing up with no privacy, after all. He inhaled slowly, and thought he caught a faint whiff of metal and smoke, likely clinging to his guest.

A soft exhale, and he chuckled. "More than that though? Perhaps time will tell. I may be a bard, but I'm more of a realist than to believe in love at first sight. I-" Henry paused a moment, and swallowed at a lump that had formed in the back of his throat, before he pressed on, pushing the years old grief back down and covering it with a bright smile. "I know that relationships are things that are built, and rarely do sudden things thrive. Careful, tender nurturing leads to lasting ones." He rubbed the side of his cheek, and his smile became a bit lopsided.

"Of course, this is coming from someone with a dearth of relationships, so take that with a pound of salt." Henry chuckled after he spoke, his tilted smile a bit rueful.

Yvonne
05-27-2018, 10:46 AM
On the surface, skin-deep, her demure glances and brazen wordplay expressed her desire for a genuine human connection. Figuratively and literally she believed a human connection was the missing link in her life, the solution to a state of depression that had plagued her from childhood. She believed it to be a way to bring about positive change in her own life, and in turn enable her to create positive change in the lives of others; at least for those deserving. Until Yvonne could find this person with whom she could simply be herself with, someone to share her emotions, thoughts - share herself with, it would prove difficult to affect others in a positive way. If she couldn’t help herself who was she to help anyone else?

Deep down, like the stone she had come to know intimately throughout her youth, so too was she as hard as stone. The half-and-halfling willed her racing heart to slow its beat and braced her mind for inevitable rejection. She told herself it was the only possible outcome. She crushed any fleeting hope of acceptance she was holding onto like a fluttering butterfly - colourful and free - beneath a rock. In this way her hope was already squashed when the time came to endure his response. Henry could not devastate a woman who expected the worst when it came to love interests.

Yer being silly. He not be interested in ye tha same way yer interested in him, ye know that. So many telltale signs before yer eyes and still ye put yer heart on tha line for him. Yer a silly fool. Ye should have taken tha hints, listened ta those dismissive snorts when his family pried and enquired about us earlier. It doesn’t matter how many times ye bat yer eyelashes, nothing ye try will sway him ta love ye. Ye have no chance with him stupid girl. He be too good for tha likes of ye and ye know it.

Henry shook his head and laughed gently, dithered from her proposal and talked his way around it to begin with. Yvonne carefully withdrew her caressing fingertips, easily reading into his body language and simply let her mismatched black hand rest next to his tanned white. The hybrid listened to the way he spoke to her, gazed into his earnest, fixed focus on her and every word he spoke was essential in her mind. He was spending breath on these words with her now but they may have been the last she would have the pleasure of hearing, after tonight. Mayhap he would think it better if they went their separate ways, and that would be his right to affect. She was a guest in his home and she had been rather undisguised with her intent.

Yvonne was awaiting the moment when the bard would certainly spurn her - outwardly warm and smiling, inwardly cold and hardened. When the battering ram of rejection never arrived, and in its place was a definitive maybe, let’s wait and see, perhaps time will tell; the diminutive drow was ill-prepared. Henry’s considerate response, an offering of words of wisdom beyond his and her years, mindful to leave her feelings intact was a javelin throw over her carefully constructed barricade. A tear for each of her silver eyes welled and spilled, two teardrops of happiness down her cheeks. She held her smile well, but otherwise didn’t convey what those tears meant, too taken aback by such an unusual outcome.

Wait, he never gave me a no. What does it all mean? A bard who doesn’t believe in tha poetry of love at first sight? Relationships are built? He thinks ours be worth careful, tender nurturing? This be his cue ta say ‘not even if ye were tha last woman alive mixed breed,’ or ‘nothing about ye be attractive ta me black-skin,’ but … ever tha gentleman he didn’t say anything mean. That must have been difficult for him, never having been together with another, and yet refraining from taking advantage of me.

Henry had neither denied nor accepted her and she admired him all the more for it. Yvonne was learning that humans could be highly unpredictable creatures. They comprised such a wide-ranging span of ideals and principles, there was no pattern to the emotions she felt for them, no order to the thoughts which clouded her head for them. With every meeting of a new human, everything she’d established from earlier encounters with their race was upturned. It seemed nothing was certain - when compared with their kin - which inspired both fear and curiosity. She wiped one of her cheeks clear of its tear-trail and paid the other no mind.

“Yer words humble me dear,” Yvonne managed at last. She was obviously having trouble saying the things she needed to say, normally charismatic and never skipping a beat with a witty remark. Henry’s beliefs on relationships were the wisest words she’d heard him speak, and his was a compelling perspective on how to form bonds with others. Yvonne’s own experience was altogether different. She’d made her way through the world swinging her personality about like a charisma-mallet, and in doing so discovered people either loved or hated her. She was more than willing to try something different in this case, especially a suggestion from Henry.

“Truth be, I’ve not shared a romantic relationship with another,” Yvonne persisted, but she recognized she needed to let the topic subside. He concealed it skillfully yet the trace of sorrow hiding behind his smile was a waving warning flag which she would do well to heed. It was a conversation which he could raise if he ever felt comfortable doing so. For all of her passion and personality she reined herself in, finally letting her silver eyes fall to the table. She changed the subject to the one he loved the most.

“Ye know, where I came from … the odd one out be me too. Tha little ones might have different aspirations, but they say music be tha language of us all,” she articulated with a brand new grin, looking up to him again.

“Everyone be in bed, but mayhap we could find a secluded place. Ye could give me a lesson in playing yer fiddle?” She looked into his eyes to convey her honesty, nibbling her lower lip with anticipation of his answer.

The Rambler
05-28-2018, 10:44 PM
Whatever Henry had expected in response to his words about a relationship, it hadn't been tears - no, he had for a very, very long time done his level best to never bring tears to another person. His smile became a little fixed for a moment before he reached up and brushed one thumb across her cheek, wiping at the tears after she had done so. He held his hand against her cheek for a moment, studying her intently. He wasn't sure what kind of thoughts that he had triggered inside the young woman - he was no mind reader, to delve into the surface thoughts of another with ease. What he could see was that she was conflicted, a trace upset and bracing herself for something. What it was, he didn't know.

But it didn't seem to come, because there had been a moment of shock and confusion in her eyes, before she teared up. Now if only Henry could figure out why it was that she had begun to cry, he could hopefully avoid causing it in the future. He took in a deep breath slowly, and sat back, drumming his fingers on the table for a moment. She said she’d been the odd one out, hm? The story behind that was bound to be an interesting one - she was from Alerar, so it wouldn't have been her skin tone that did it. Was her height truly an issue for -

Henry stared at her blankly for a moment when she asked her question, then an amused smile twisted his lips and he raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward and steepled his fingers together, studying her over them. “Now now Miss Yvonne. I don't think we know each other well enough for you to play my instrument.” He grinned impishly at her, before pushing himself back and away from the table. One hand reached out to the young woman, offering her a helping hand to come to her feet.

“Though I suppose if you want to hear some music before turning in for the night, I can oblige you. I don't know if I know any tunes that would be too familiar to you, but I'm always willing to play.” He gave her a gentle smile as he held out his hand. Hopefully, taking her up on the request for music would help the strange mood she seemed to be in. In the back of his mind he was already trying to figure out what kind of music she might like. Would she prefer livelier tunes? Did she appreciate slower, solemn chords? He had no issue with experimenting - while the children might have been herded off to bed, he was still wide awake.

Likely a result of the fact that he didn't really have a set sleep cycle any more - if anything, he tended to be awake later in the day. Evenings were, after all, one of the times when Henry did well; finding a tavern or an inn that didn't have a musician already ensconced there was usually a good way of getting some pay for an evening. While he had no issues with busking - playing in the streets for passerby - Corone and Scara Brae tended to be a bit too warm for people to appreciate street music in the day.

Yvonne
05-31-2018, 06:55 AM
Henry’s comforting palm against her cheek was a mercy more telling than any man had revealed to her before.

Her mother had often shown her this kindness, taking the time to wipe her tears away and hold her close, because the lives they lead were marred with cruelty. She had understood how her daughter felt. Abel was a man who had bestowed her life with wonderful new experiences. There was one time this gesture of kindness would have been welcome from him, but he had to depart and chose to support her in a different way.

The minstrel reached out to her himself, gently touching her face and clearing her cheek of tears. She’d had to cross the known world to find someone willing to comfort her like this.

Yvonne’s breathing ceased.

Closing her achromatic eyes she delicately settled the black skin of her cheek against his hold. It was such a simple, tender gesture - it took but a moment of one’s time, but conveyed more than words could - explained and proved so much about a human. Words could be lies and even facial expressions could be feigned, but to fake a comforting hand such as this? It was impossible, unprecedented. Indifference was perhaps the most difficult quality to conceal of all. Henry proved he was a compassionate, kind soul in that instant. So many of her assumptions became truths.

The teary-eyed woman inhaled again, her breath still catching as his one-liner punchline took her completely by surprise. Her lips gaped, closed, opened to riposte him again, but her form was well and truly unready. The half-and-halfling’s mind was a vulnerable whirlpool of swirling, twirling thoughts, freely flowing but unusually unprepared to pluck the one retort she needed from its vortex. She’d not met a man whom had this advantage over her, and even Henry had only acquired it during this very conversation.

Henry one, Yvonne one. Tha tally be all tied up ladies and gentlemen.

A doting smile played across her lips, broadened her cheeks. Any thought of tears, even happy tears had elapsed. Henry filled her with such fondness and warmth. She was overdue for poking fun at her poor word choice and he deserved to reclaim his ground and send her reeling. A lucid blush coloured her expression and she looked away from him temporarily, tried to gather herself and respond. No dice. She licked her lips to moisten them to speak, but that embarrassed her even more, her thoughts still swirling about his instrument.

“I didn’t mean--” she began, but it was far, far too late for redemption now and she knew it. “I only meant ye could show me how ta play. I be little, if I sat on yer lap--”

Yvonne’s silver eyes widened with emotion akin to horror. She immediately shook her head in an extremely hurried manner, mouthing the words no, no, but thankfully catching herself and erupting into giggly bliss. Who was this human who could counter-riposte her word-thrusts and disarm her so easily. This wasn’t over! She grinned at him, shaking her head in a measured, regrouping way.

“I should concede before I find myself more tha fool,” the blushing hybrid articulated, a redeeming sentence among blunders. Yvonne gratefully accepted his hand, his willing rescue from her self-inflicted embarrassment.

“If ye know how ta play a ballad, most likely I’ve listened to it at an inn somewhere between here and home,” the Alerian mused. “It always be tha slow, sentimental tunes that take me by ear. I relate with tender melodies and undertones of hope inspire me.” It wasn’t always best to simply tell a man what you wanted, but in this case she believed it would help him. The world of music was boundless, and even a fiddle was capable of sound without limit.

She continued to think back throughout her nights spent listening to bards and musicians. They were part and parcel with the career of her youth. Minstrels and innkeepers had always worked side by side, in tandem; one enlivened the spirits of travellers and the other drowned their sorrows with spirits. One lulled their minds with peaceful melodies while the other provided comforting pillows and restful beds.

The Rambler
06-07-2018, 06:42 PM
"Hmm, and here I was thinking that fools were the music players." Henry was grinning a bit, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he chuckled and pulled her to her feet. The woman was blushing fiercely at the moment, and the musician couldn't really blame her -one after another, her mouth fumbled and slipped up, and things spilled out that were could easily be taken... in an entirely different manner. However - he wasn't one to mercilessly tease Yvonne. She wasn't one of his 'siblings' after all, he didn't know how she might react to barbs and quips. Mayhaps in time, if they got to know each other better, he would be more comfortable with teasing her, but that was a consideration for the future. For now - he would let her request for music stand.

"I have to say, I'm probably not a very good teacher, in honesty. Music came naturally to me, always has, and I've learned that that makes it difficult to pass music on to others who don't have the same knack. Everyone has their own talents after all, and music is mine." He gave her a warm smile, and nodded his head back towards the hall. "There's a few rooms towards the other side of the orphanage where I can play for you without bothering the others. Mother Matilda has a strict rule about playing near the little ones when they're trying to sleep." As he let her recover her balance - mentally, more than physically at the moment - Henry strode over to where he had hung his pack, and deftly removed his fiddle from its case on the side of his bag. A moment later the bowstick slid out as well, and he turned back to her with a patient smile on his lips. She seemed to have recovered while he was turned around, and was now watching him with those enigmatic silver eyes.

So, she preferred soft, sentimental music, hope and warmth spoke to her. Well - Henry tended to prefer energetic music himself, but he had no problems at all with playing something a bit more sedate. Blue eyes sparkled with an inner warmth as he bowed slightly, gesturing for her to follow him before he started walking, at a slow, steady pace as his fingers nimbly danced along the instrument, caressing it as he checked it over. Knobs twisted, strings tightened and loosened under his expert touch, and as the two of them walked he gave the strings a few experimental plucks, making the fiddle begin to hum. Soft notes filled the air - not enough for a melody, and certainly not how a fiddle was properly played, but small, pleasant sounds bouncing gently around the two of them as they walked.

The room that Henry led the way to was a fair bit of a walk away - Mother Matilda was actually rather firm about playing music away from where people sleep, if you were going to play after the small children were put to bed, and had designated rooms on the other side of the mansion from the bedrooms, as he had said. She had then paid to have thick material put in the walls, to muffle the sounds of music - really, to keep the children from using it as a reason to stay up. Not that Henry complained - he had often used these rooms to practice late at night, when he was unable to sleep for one reason or another, and having somewhere he could go and not disturb others had frequently been useful.

So the door that Henry opened was thick and heavy, and lead to a room that had clearly seen use over the years. Well-worn furniture sat around the room - chairs at various heights, with small stands scattered about. Against one wall hung a large cabinet, currently shut firmly, and beside it stood a simple piano. In one corner was a standing harp, which was clearly older than the other objects in the room - and the frame was crafted from metal, mixed and built so that the light from the hall scattered along it. The musician blinked when he realized that the room itself was dark. He knew where things were mostly from memory, but the light from the doorway showed that things had been moved about since he was last here.

“Ah, whoops. A moment. I need a bit more light than this to play.” He chuckled sheepishly and moved a bit further down the hall, and shifted his bowstick and fiddle into one hand so that he could bring one of the small lanterns back with him. He carried this into the room, and set it on one of the chairs in a corner of the room - the light casting dancing, flickering shadows about the chamber as he turned and gestured to one of the chairs. “Here now, take a seat Miss Yvonne. Sadly, my lap isn’t available.” He grinned - he couldn’t help that one - then tucked himself up onto one of the taller chairs, long legs folding up underneath him onto one of the rungs of the chair. His fiddle was placed atop his shoulder and he closed his eyes as he sorted through the tunes in his head. Finally he settled on one and, and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

Fingers began to shift - and instead of immediately setting the bow to the strings, the musician instead softly plucked, his fingers making the chords dance out. The stick would come in later - not yet, not yet. Soft steady, and a bit mournful to begin with, but he thought she might enjoy it.




[Linkage: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rn_rznQkJjY - the song he's playing begins at 37:30, a rendition of the Skye Boat]

Yvonne
06-11-2018, 09:03 PM
Yvonne followed Henry’s lead to the play testing sounds of his fiddle, each note a promising suggestion that he might play a song for her soon, when they arrived at where they were going. The other side of the orphanage was further away than she expected; more than half of the old manor seemed to be empty of life, awaiting a time when orphans were so common these rooms would need to be revitalized for their purposes. The hybrid imagined - as the doors were closed - that they concealed tidy but dusty states of disuse on the other side.

It would take a war, a bloodbath to put all these rooms to use. She silently prayed in her own way, that such a catastrophic event would never occur in her lifetime.

The jovial minstrel threw wide a door and introduced his crossbreed companion to a wondrous place, hidden away in the deepest, furthest corner of the household. A room cluttered with instruments and stands one would read sheet music from, with both comfortable and practical furniture close by. An antique harp expected attention and respect in its corner, but it appeared so historic and valuable that Yvonne wouldn’t dare touch it. Perhaps it belonged to Mother Matilda herself, or was a possession passed down through her bloodline.

The deep dwarf’s silver eyes easily understood the darkness before them. The outlines and silhouettes of every piece of furniture and object in the music room essentially highlighted for her, albeit in vision of greyscale and grey edges. Henry brandished an oil lantern with a little flickering flame, and as though he had a sixth sense for her light sensitivity he set it down on a chair, far from her vulnerable eyes. The light source made for a confusing alteration from crystalline darkvision and perfect clarity to a murky mixture of both lights and darks, a dreamy blur that she delighted in, so long as the bard remained to guide her and she didn’t look directly into the lantern light.

Henry offered a complimentary spot for her to sit, and simultaneously backhanded her with another quip. The duality of his words spoke to her as much as the words themselves. Her cheeks ached from the many times she had smiled and grinned tonight, and yet she helped herself to another. Yvonne’s white teeth flashed toward him, from the darkness of the room and the blackness of her lips as she turned away. She never did take up his offer of a comfy seat on the sideline. He climbed onto a tall, stool-like chair to play while she drifted, exploratory about the room.

The half-drow, half-dwarf’s soft fingertips graced the wooden key cover of the piano. Henry began to strum such moderate, dulcet notes that soothed away all of the night’s stresses, of fitting in and becoming accepted at the orphanage. Her anxiety and tension washed away on the current of a melodious river. The song he played was idyllic, peaceful. She had heard it once before, the ballad’s rhythm coming back to her from a time long ago.

Yvonne was a woman more inclined to seek forgiveness than permission. She respectfully took a seat in the dark, lifted the piano cover and looked over the numerous keys midway through the melody. The piano called to her, though she had never played it, and certainly didn’t have the long fingers for it - it called her to try. The half-and-halfling’s dark finger tested a low note, miraculously in time with a low note of Henry’s. At one of the song’s many higher notes she tried a high note, and with that range recognized the instrument made some sort of sense in her mind.

A complete novice of musicianship, she drew upon her experience of dance to follow along with the tune. Her hands were a little shaky, afraid to ruin the beautiful song he was bestowing upon her ears, but her fingers would not be silent. She managed the rhythm somewhat clumsily, a note out of place here, an octave lower than it should be there. Nevertheless her effort was deliberate and thoughtful, passable even, to the human ear. It wasn’t a particularly complicated song, gradual and sweet-toned; a perfect place for her to start.

The song came to an end all too soon. She wanted it to go on forever, but refrained from letting her fingers get carried away.

The Rambler
06-12-2018, 08:39 AM
Music and Stone.


Henry let the last notes of the song fade away, soft and gentle on the still air of the room, bis eyes closed. He drew in a slow, steady breath, and exhaled, breaking the hold the music had had on his audience of one. A slight smile grew on his lips as he opened his eyes and looked at Yvonne, who was now standing beside the piano, her hands slowly retracting from the outstretched position they had been in while she played. The musician let his fiddle slide downwards to rest on his lap, his bright blue eyes locking onto her silver ones.

“Well now. It seems you have some experience with music yourself, don't you Miss Yvonne? Though I'd dare say that your history with it isn't on the performance side, no.” His gaze broke to scan her up and down, intently bearing down on her. The accompaniment hadn't been quite right, though if she wasn't a musician herself she probably wasn't aware of it. His eyes slid down to her legs, studying them as they emerged from beneath her skirt, then roved back up to meet her own gaze once more.

“No, no. I'd say you either sing, or dance, to music, don't you? I could see you being good at either of those, and you have an ear for music that shows you are used to listening to it, but not playing it. You did better than most of the little ones here, so you have been exposed to music and have an appreciation for it. But - differing instruments aren't meant to be fully playing the same notes, they have different roles in songs.” He stood up suddenly, his legs unfolding smoothly and swiftly. A step, two, and he was standing close to her, but not too close, as he peered down at her, his fiddle resting against the outside of his thigh.

“Yes, you have a voice that is quite pleasant to listen to, and your legs muscled well - you could be either. I wonder which it is, then. Hmm.” He grinned at her, leaning in for a moment - before pulling back and away, smoothly sliding back on fleet feet to give her space beside the piano once more.

“Well now, Miss Yvonne! I have given you a slow tune. Now, let me give you one that I quite like, something with a bit more energy. Let the music take you, hmm?” He grinned broadly as he swept around the room, moving the chairs and stools scattered about to the outside edge, clearing a wide space in the center of the room. He turned to her, still bearing that wide, energetic grin,as he practically leapt back to her. The man rested the fiddle and stick atop the piano, and stood behind her. “Here. I'll show you this.” His hands came forward and caught hers, bringing them back to the piano keys.

The keystrokes he showed her weren’t complicated - a repetitive set of notes, back and forth along the ivories. His fingers danced across the piano and her fingers as he showed her which to press. Then, abruptly he moved back, snatching up his fiddle once more. He couldn't help his excitement - none of the others had ever shown an interest in the music, not enough of one to want to accompany him. Now that he had someone who was at least willing to play along once, a strange kind of frenzy was settling over the man.

A wide, vivid smile stretched Henry’s cheeks as he brought his fiddle up. His right foot began tapping the tempo that he had shown her on the piano - and then he was off, bright notes filling the room with their energy, his excitement spreading through the music.


[linkage: https://youtu.be/1BQTxFShmxA. He is also unwittingly using The Sound of Music, his passive ability to spread the mood of his music to listeners. Yvonne can shrug it off of she wants to.]

Yvonne
06-14-2018, 09:54 AM
“Of course. Music finds me wherever I go. It made itself heard in every inn I ever went ta,” Yvonne replied cheerfully. Her eyes lidded as Henry studied her, as though he had noticed her in a whole new light. She reveled in the attention, lifted a knee and brushed behind her leg with her hovering heel, twirling her skirt again. He gave her a really good going over with those handsome blue eyes and she positively squirmed with excitement.

For someone who, supposedly, thought they weren’t much of a teacher the bard proved to be an accurate assessor. He just let her have the truth of it, compliments and critiques both and her own smile broadened every time he willingly revealed the courage to tell it to her straight. She presumed many men would tell her how talented she was, that they could listen to her play until the end of their days, but flowery praise meant nothing to her. She loved honesty - Henry had it in spades.

The enthusiastic minstrel gave her a quick lesson in the complimentary roles of instruments - the way a piano kept the beat and provided the base of a song, while a fiddle shined front and centre for example. Not a good teacher or anything though, no siree. Only letting Yvonne know exactly what she needed to hear to improve her novice musicianship, that’s all. Her teacher needed to give himself more credit!

Mayhap he be a really modest human. That must be it.

Yet, Henry checked out her smooth-skinned legs and that was anything but modesty at play. Not that she minded.

Go right ahead mister. Look all ye like.

The beginner-level pianist contemplated appeasing his curiosity, answering his question. She didn’t want to give away all of her secrets too soon however, and some secrets were better left to be discovered. Maybe she’d have an opportunity to show him instead. That would be far more memorable.

Henry’s hands gently gripped her backhands and he guided the hybrid, directed her fingers to play a sequence of keys. With guidance the uncertainty lifted from her mind and allowed her to press the ivories with confidence. Yvonne eagerly followed his directions and repeated the set with gusto! Back and forth, back and forth as she listened intently to the music of his fiddle. Henry looked to be overflowing with a wonderful zeal she had not envisioned in the carefree human before. His happiness filled her with happiness too.

Her little dwarven fingertips replicated the notes easily, so easily she could look over her shoulder and watch - how his fingers worked the chords and his rod strummed the harmony. The song’s energy infused her with a vigor she had not known earlier; so fevered, so exhilarated. A minute and a half luxuriously elapsed and the energy overtook her. She increased the pace of the beat - pressed the keys even quicker than before, wondering whether Henry was capable of adapting to the haste and playing his well-liked song in a hurry!

“Swiftly now, Henry!” Yvonne called out, grinning from ear to dark elven ear.

The Rambler
06-16-2018, 06:03 AM
The shift between Henry standing still, and Henry moving about the room, came without warning, without an indication of anything brewing. Between one note and the next, the grin on his face widened, as Yvonne spoke to him - and then he showed just why it was thy he had cleared most of the things away from the center of the room, and why he hadn't sat back down.

He flung himself about the room, long limbs smoothly flowing about as he spun and cavorted about. His legs flicked back and forth - not the practiced motions of a dancer, but expressing the intense need he had to be moving, to put into motion the energy that was burning beneath his skin. He fed off the obvious excitement that Yvonne was showing as the two of them picked up the tempo, and moved more energetically, his arm sawing back and forth as his fingers flew across the strings. Shifts and turns, his body nearly a blur, the bird led the pace upwards, strumming faster and faster as the song drew closer to the end. It was exhilarating, a rush he rarely got to feel, and he could feel his body practically vibrating with excitement.

A twist of his feet had him spinning around, beside Yvonne with his back towards the piano. Henry gave her that wide, bright smile, his blue eyes brimming with joy. The final notes of the song rang out, echoing a bit oddly in the padded room, and his chest heaved as he caught his breath, that grin, still tinged with a bit of a manic edge, splitting his face wide. He leaned against the piano, his back pressing against the wood as he watched her face intently.

When he had recovered - only a few moments of stillness - his grin shifted became a bit calmer, and he closed his eyes. "Sorry about that, Miss Yvonne. It's not often I have people who are willing to accompany me when I play - they tend to want to just listen." It was a rare treat for him to have someone who was willing and able to keep up with him when he played. He settled the fiddle on top of the piano, and stepped away so he could bow low to her.

"You have my thanks for that. Perhaps in the future, I can find out if you're normally a singer or a dancer." He chuckled, and pushed sweat-damp hair back from his face. The small room was becoming a bit warm, and his burst of frenetic energy certainly hadn't helped him stay cool. He had to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirtto let his skin breathe for a few moments as he smiled warmly at his companion.

"So then! The night wears on - what would you like to do? Retire to a room? Or go out and see the night life of the town? I'd be honored to accompany you." He had caught himself on one of the words, remembering an earlier bit of misunderstanding, and changed it. The musician was enjoying this time and he didn't want a poor choice of words to make the short woman decide she was finished.

Yvonne
06-18-2018, 10:15 AM
“Don’t ye go apologizing ta me mister, not unless ye mean it. Yer not sorry that happened one bit, I know it. Ye should be proud of who ye be and what yer able ta express. Nobody can express quite like ye,” Yvonne remarked, scolding and praising the exhilarated bard in quick succession. She laid the piano keys to rest and closed the wooden cover, left everything how she had found it. The piano student still had no idea who the magnificent instrument belonged to - and the same could be said for the harp beside her - but ever since the day her childhood bullies had destroyed her apothecary stall she had made it a rule; respect people’s property.

“Yer very welcome Henry. Thank ye for treating me ta some of yer endearing dance maneuvers,” the sophisticated woman teased, smothering a giggle with her hand before her manner became too mean. “Ye made me feel completely at ease about tha lack of piano talent in tha room.” Yvonne hopped off her seat and, before he could object to her repartee for him or herself, she trump carded the poor man with an adoring, uninhibited hug around his middle. A fond squeeze, never mind the sweat and she let him go again.

The drow-dwarf decided not to answer Henry’s remaining questions, not in so many words. She whirled away, turned with a shy smile from him. Her secrets sought their freedom from her prison-lips. One step, two, out into the wide open space the minstrel had cleared for his own dance. Her mysterious silver eyes closed as she breathed in deeply, filled her lungs. She slowly raised her left arm, hand upturned to guide her melodic singing voice - to moderate the height of her tone.

“Have ye ever heard a wolf cry ta tha blue full moon,
Or asked a grinning bobcat why he grinned?” Her tender voice resonated throughout the room and her right arm mirrored her left, as though one hand gestured toward a full moon far above and the other a predatory cat lounging on a tree branch underneath it.

“Can ye sing with all tha voices of tha mountain?” Yvonne’s voice reverberated the word sing, and both arms arose to an uplifting height in tandem with mountain. Her hips swayed and her feet followed along with their movement. A gradual step to the left, a turn that faced her toward Henry which revealed a hidden blush, and another turn to conceal her embarrassment again.

“Can ye paint with all tha colours of tha wind?” Light of foot she lifted one and pirouetted, spinning twice with her elbows up but her hands held together.
“Can ye paint with all tha colours of tha wiiind?” With a flick of her foot through the air she procured herself another pirouette, stood only on the ball of a single foot and allowed her arms to flow outward freely. She considered three spins to be enough for the slow pace of the song and relaxed the technique.

“Ye think tha only people who be people,” Yvonne continued to sing in a quieter, softer tone, a hand over her own heart.
“Be tha people who look and think like you,” she enunciated the word you correctly, surprisingly capable and gestured out toward Henry with a flourishing hand.
“But if ye walk tha footsteps of a stranger,” she intoned and began to walk away from him, a hand coming to rest on the door frame.
“Ye learn things ye never knew, never knew,” she crooned as she left the room entirely.

Hopefully the song and dance had left him completely dumbfounded. She was far more practiced with her beautiful voice after all, and a tutored dancer to boot. Of course he would be, but she decided to wander off without him and time how long it took, to pick his jaw up off the floor and catch up with her little strides taking her away through the manor house.

[Original song is of course Colors Of The Wind, by Vanessa Williams.]

The Rambler
06-18-2018, 07:04 PM
It took Henry a pair of heartbeats, slow and steady, for him to realize that Yvonne had left the room - and apparently had no intention of returning. He shook himself sharply, his head swinging back and forth, and chuckled to himself. "So, that's a 'yes' to being both a singer, and a dancer. I'll have to remember that." He wondered, as he started stalking after her, why she had chosen that particular song, or if it had just been the one she felt would work best without any accompaniment. With a rolling shrug of his shoulders, he took his fiddle back up and laid it across his shoulders, then picked up the lantern and left the room.

His longer legs easily caught up to Yvonne's shorter strides, and he slowed himself down as he let her lead the way. He was curious - was she leading outside somewhere? Or did she expect him to take the lead once he had caught up, and show her to her room? She had left the question he asked unanswered, so he couldn't tell what was going on behind those enigmatic silver eyes. But as he caught up, he did slide in front of her, spinning around so he could walk backwards, using his long-time familiarity with the house to let him avoid running into anything as he looked down at her.

"You, Miss Yvonne, are utterly fascinating." She never seemed to settle for a moment, and always had to be pressing on, trying to achieve the next thing. He knew from experience that singing while dancing was nowhere near as easy as some made it look - without proper experience, trying to do one, would leave you too breathless to do the other. Yet the dwarf pulled it off with aplomb, an entrancing singing voice, and some rather exquisite legs. The amount of time and effort she had to have put into that were certainly nothing to scoff at, and he thought she might have spent too long facing away to hide the blush he had caught on her cheeks, to see much of his own as he watched her. His piece said, for the moment, he spun back around, and fell into pace beside her.

He was, admittedly, rather surprised by the hug she had blindsided him with. It's not that he wasn't used to them - the other children of the orphanage had been affectionate to him, once he had come out of his dark place, and had no qualms with tackling him with hugs. No, what had caught him off guard about the action was how relatively new they were to each other - they'd known each other for only a few hours, at most, at this point - meeting in the town, walking back, that dinner, then the music? No, not even hours - maybe one, or two at most. And she felt comfortable enough around him to embrace him? He felt... touched, by that, for some reason. Touched, and honored. From the corner of one bright blue eye he examined her, now with a less, perhaps, critical, eye than he had used before. No, there was a different tone to the gaze, a far more appreciative one, though most of that was hidden by the fact that most of his face was turned away. The musician cleared his throat abruptly, and looked at her fully, tucking away other thoughts for the time being.

"So then, where to Miss?" He grinned at her, tilting his head to the side. "Or shall I just let you lead on?"

Yvonne
06-20-2018, 08:38 AM
“Out, fearlessly into tha unknown, ta experience this night life I keep hearing about dear,” Yvonne explained for her dreamy tag along. She detected an understated change in the minstrel and beamed about it, quite happy with herself. Henry wasn’t saying so but he may as well have been shouting it, through body language and a very long pause, while he digested what had bloody well taken place.

An aura of cuteness radiated from him, walking backwards just so he could keep his eyes on her, and staring surreptitiously from the corner of his vision afterward. He didn’t know whether to eyeball her openly or hide his lingering gaze. So, so cute. As a bard he gave the performances and others watched, listened and applauded. That was how things were. She would never play an instrument to the calibre he could, but the realization she performed in other ways must have rocked his world.

Travelling bards rarely found their way through her mother’s door - a bunkhouse deep in the dreary slums of Kachuck - and even when they did Mera usually turned them away. She couldn’t afford to pay them. Sometimes they stayed regardless, content with a room and a meal. Often the Mythrilmantles went without music and Yvonne sometimes filled the void, with her own song and dance. Later in life her tutor had refined those skills exponentially.

“Yer advice on tha matter would be well heeded, of course. I could get used ta listening ta yer council ye know,” the half-and-halfling amended. This had been her first day in Stonevale and without his guidance their nightly exploration would be meandering at best, not that she imagined the wandering minstrel would mind at all. It didn’t particularly please Yvonne to waste time however, because time was a precious commodity and always, always plenty needed to be done.

Together they walked back through the manor, their footsteps quietly taking them by creaky wooden floorboards which Henry aptly pointed out to her. It wouldn’t do to wake the Matron or the children. None of them needed encouraging or their bad example, sneaking out late at night to get into any mischief they could come across. Firstly they would need their belongings, still hanging up in the dining room. With a chill in the air her scarf would be most welcome, despite the fact her host had warmed her heart.

The Rambler
06-22-2018, 08:14 PM
"My advice, my advice, my advice, my advice." Henry spun on one foot before he pushed open the door to the kitchen where their belongings were hanging against one wall. He was humming the words under his breath, thinking as he turned the request over in his head. His advice? His advice would be to take a stroll in the fresh, cool night air, enjoying each other's company and getting to know a bit more about each other. This woman had apparently entrenched herself in his family house with nary a qualm on anyone's part - Matilda had accepted her, albeit grudgingly, and the kids seemed to like having someone else around, someone new. He'd like to know more about her - did she like kids, or was she putting on a brave face around the rambunctious horde that had been running about? What did she do with her days, besides singing and dancing?

But - but his advice wasn't appropriate, not for this situation. Because he already had an insight into the kind of girl that Yvonne was. While she might not be actively against the idea, Henry knew that the girl would prefer to be doing something with her time, along while talking. Not exactly his preference, because he preferred to enjoy life more simply, more... languidly. Despite that - well, proceeding at a more energetic pace wasn't something he would hate doing. So, as he took her scarf down from the hook and held it out for the girl, he was lost in thought. This made him fall into old, ingrained habits from years of looking after the children, and as he was thinking of where to take her he moved automatically.

Deft hands smoothly laid the scarf across her shoulders, and he tied it together around her neck, smoothing it out with a gentle touch as he hummed in thought. His mind was entirely elsewhere, until he went to smooth down the scarf as it fell and he realized that he was not tending to one of the children. "AH!" He leapt away, his face turning a bright scarlet.

"A- a - sorry sorry! Sorry!" He stammered, the normally even keeled musician blushing fiercely. "So sorry! UHm. Uhm. sorry." He snatched up his fiddle from where he had set it on the table. "We-shou- we should ah, go out. Yes. Uhm. There are a few stores that run late. Night bakery, I know there's a blacksmith that likes to work in the evenings because 'the sun hurts his eyes' and - " as he was speaking, Henry was rapidly backpedaling, practically tripping over himself as he tried to get away from the mishap.

Yvonne
06-24-2018, 09:12 AM
Henry draped Yvonne’s brown fur scarf about her neck and shoulders, possibly one of the most gentlemanly acts she’d had the pleasure of experiencing. His humming lulled her into feelings of appreciation and contentment - a moment of blissfulness and elation - so when the minstrel’s hand stroked over her ample, plump breast those feelings abruptly vanished. Replaced with eye-expanding surprise, she dared not move an inch and merely looked at him, seeking explanation.

Understanding washed over the corset-bearing woman almost in tandem with Henry’s recoiling retreat. Yvonne’s questioning silver eyes softened and that sly, impish smirk returned to its rightful place upon her features. He hadn’t been confident in his actions after all. She could help him build up that confidence of his. It was something they could work on together.

Ye would have me believe yer fondle ta be an accident? Hmm, I don’t know… ye seemed like ye knew what ye were doing with yer hands for a moment there. Why tha knee-jerk reaction? Usually a girl would like a little more foreplay first but I enjoyed yer caress. Nothing like a man who knows what ta do with his hands and simply takes what he desires.

The drow-dwarf hybrid burst into a fit of giggles, though she quickly covered her mouth with both hands and tittered behind them. She had to be very careful not to wake the children, especially here so close to their bedrooms. Her silver eyes did the laughing for her, creasing in delight and expressing the amused mirth that wouldn’t stay inside her little jiggling body. Trying to keep it all bottled up made her snort, and snorting made her laugh even more.

Henry ran, nearly tripped over his own feet in an effort to distance himself from her bosom. She followed him, shaking her head as the last of her giggles died down, reining in a mind of jests and wisecracks she could let loose upon him now, any time an appropriately perky occasion was laid bare. She would have to keep him abreast of any further developments. No, no, it wouldn’t do to tease the bard while he still felt so insecure, but the thoughts of doing so definitely filled her mind. She’d let him off scot-free for now. She was trying to encourage this behaviour.

We could peruse a few shops, or ye could peruse me own wares if ye like, teehee.

“That felt wonder-- I mean sounds wonderful. After ye, mister. Introduce me ta this blacksmith ye know,” Yvonne approved. “Who doesn’t love meeting people they have things in common with?”

The Rambler
07-01-2018, 01:10 AM
After putting some distance between himself and the giggling girl - not that he knew she was giggling at the moment - Henry managed to calm himself down, and put his fiddle back into its case and store it in one of the cabinets, to pick back up later after taking Yvonne out. He didn't think he'd be playing any more music tonight, not without coming back here first. As he closed the cabinet, Henry flexed one hand a little - the one that had gotten an inadvertent handful. It had been warm, and soft, and a faint dusting of red washed across his face as the phantom sensation of that warmth spread across his palm.

Then Yvonne spoke up from nearby, and he shook his head rapidly. He thought, for a moment, that she had been about to say something else - but he threw that idea right out the door, dismissing it as the ramblings of his rather disoriented mind. He coughed, and shook his head again, focusing his bright blue eyes on the young woman as he headed towards the front door. Again his long familiarity with the layout of the house showed, as he smoothly walked around various pieces of furniture without really registering that they were there.

"You're quite right about that, Miss Yvonne. Shared interests do tend to lead to more enjoyable meetings." And I am rather glad you like music. Means I'll usually have something I can talk about without boring you. He kept that thought to himself though. No, he was definitely not willing to voice that particular one, not yet. Not after accidentally fondling her. He coughed into a closed fist before holding the front door open. Yvonne preceded him through the door, and he closed it firmly behind them - he knew Matilda would still be awake for a while so he didn't need to worry about locking it, but just leaving the door open was a terrible idea.

As the two walked down the street, he did make sure to stay somewhat close to Yvonne. The night was somewhat cool, and while she did have her scarf back on, he didn't know how used to the cold night air she was. So he was ready in case she needed - well. An arm, maybe? He frowned slightly. Well, no matter unless she actually got cold. The blacksmith wasn't far away, and once they actually made it to his shop the chill certainly wouldn't be an issue.


The night-operating blacksmith was one of the local journeymen, operating the store during late hours for those people who worked into the night, and would need things. Getting something repaired couldn't always be done during the day after all. And the journeyman who ran the shop at night, a gentleman by the name of Tyvin, well knew that he was working for those who operated on a strange schedule. He usually had a pot of coffee brewing somewhere in the shop, so he could give a cup to customers who could stomach the brew. It certainly woke you up, a potent, bitter black sludge that was, Henry swore, sometimes considering sentience through sheer caffenation. He pushed open the door to the store and held it for Yvonne, calling out inside as he did so.

"Oi, Tyvin, you busy at the moment?" His bright, clear voice rang out into the shop as he ushered his guest inside.

Yvonne
07-02-2018, 05:37 AM
Henry kept racking up those gentleman points, didn’t he? Holding open the door for her, such a sweetheart. Always in the right place and doing nice things by her. In the past she’d considered herself lucky if the dark elves she’d known hadn’t closed doors in her face, their lofty noses in the air - they easily overlooked her small stature and paid her no mind. Humans though, they could be altogether different, this minstrel especially.

“You damn well know I’m busy, you frivolous fiddler,” Tyvin shot back, not looking up from a twin-arced battle-axe sharpening against a revolving grindstone. Hohoo, temper temper. Easy does it now. Sparks of burning metal showered the stone floor as his experienced hands refined an edge into a menacing weapon, controlling the angle and the pressure applied. With his back to them and every ounce of concentration poring over his craft, Tyvin hadn’t realized anyone else had come in besides an old friend who understood his disposition well. Head down, but his ears looked decidedly hairy.

Yvonne let him work and took the moment as an opportunity to absorb it all. The uncomplicated smithy had four walls in a square arrangement and those boxed-in a round open-pit furnace filled with glowing coals. The ceiling itself narrowed into a small rectangular shape, then rose vertically. Upon closer inspection she realized that would be a chimney, for ventilation of abundant smoke. Workbenches littered with the smith’s tools bordered half of the room while an anvil and bellows dominated the other half.

The half-dwarf had a suspicion the armour and weapons resting or cooling on the racks had recently been forged. A distinct lack of dust upon the armaments gave it away - the blacksmith knew how to move his products and must have been collecting a tidy sum for his efforts. Either that or a desperate demand for his pieces snapped them up as quickly as he crafted them.

“What do you want Henry? The goblins threaten the town, this had better be good or-- oh,” Tyvin prompted with a snarl but caught his error, as his muscular, brawny body reluctantly turned to face them. Yvonne noticed pointed teeth and a few seconds of shame in his eyes which he rapidly buried, crossing his coarsely haired forearms and redirecting his focus to removing grease and filth from beneath a fingernail with a… was that a clawed thumb? No, but a long fingernail nonetheless.

“You could have warned me a lady had come into my smithy. I’d have kept my manners intact. Too late for that now,” the husky blacksmith complained. He shifted his gaze, a tad uncomfortably from Henry down to Yvy. Black of hair, a mustache, a short beard and those eyes; the drow-dwarf couldn’t make up her mind about them. Either his eyes were worryingly bloodshot or rendered a natural colour of red.

“A pleasure ta be making yer acquaintance, sir,” she greeted him, providing an elegant curtsy. Though neither was it low or linger as long as the curtsy she’d offered to Mother Matilda.

Already got this Tyvin on tha back foot. No need ta make him more uncomfortable than he already be. He looks ta be human but I never met one so covered in body hair. Even his eyebrows join together in unholy matrimony. Tha local barber taken off on an extended holiday, eh?

The Rambler
07-09-2018, 07:01 PM
"Well I mean, I just came back myself so I didn't know about that." Henry shook his head with an amused smile as he strode over to Tyvin, and wrapped one arm around the man's shoulders. "See you're still trying to impersonate a bear. You really need to shave down." He cleared his throat and stepped back, releasing the blacksmith from the hug. He ignored the soot that was on his side and stepped between the two, bowing to Yvonne.

"Tyvin, this is Miss Yvonne, a young lady that I met earlier today. She's taken up residence at the house, and - well, not my place to say much more, is it?" He chuckled. "Miss Yvonne, this is Tyvin. He was one of the older children at the orphanage when I was growing up." Tyvin snorted and shifted, swatting Henry on the shoulder. "Hey! I'm not wrong." Finally, finally Henry could relax a bit, be a bit more comfortable - he had a friend around, and hopefully with Tyvin there Yvonne wouldn't tease him about his ah, slip up earlier. He coughed into his hand and waved at the two of them with a smile on his face.

"Now then, Miss Yvonne said she shares interests with you - and you know me, weak and noodly arms and all." He grinned. "I'm sure she wants to talk blacksmithing with you, Tyvin. I figured I should show her around town - our next stop was going to be the-" Tyvin cut the rambling musician off with a swat upside the back of his head, and Henry stumbled forward before recovering and turning around to glare at his friend. The burly blacksmith folded his arms back over his chest and leveled an unimpressed glare at the bard.

"I forgot how dense you are, boy." His eyes flickered to Yvonne, then back to Henry. "I'm a bit busy at the moment - the forgemaster has everyone working overtime to get weapons and armor together for the militia. You, should probably swing by Talion's, I'm sure he'd be grateful to have your skilled hand back in the shop for a few days." Henry shifted and rubbed the back of his head, looking down and to the side. Tyvin shook his head. "I know you don't like to do it, but we need every bit of help we can get. You should at least go by, and see if he can use your help." He directed his gaze towards Yvonne.

"Sorry about that, lady. Unpleasant times are on us, as much as my wayward friend likes to try not to think about it." He nodded his head to her. "Now, unless you have truly pressing concerns, I should probably get back to work. Henry, truly, go visit Talion's shop tomorrow, would you?" Henry didn't quite meet Tyvin's eyes, but nodded. "Good. Now then, off with you to - unless you need something, lady?" He tilted his head in Yvonne's direction, curiosity in his eyes.

Yvonne
07-13-2018, 07:30 AM
The half breed giggled at the bard’s misfortune, copping a swipe upside the head. Poor Henry. A smith’s hand was no joke. She’d have to check for bruising afterward, apply some herbal ointment. That might make him feel better. He'd said nothing about this other business, Talion’s, but his body language spoke volumes. She made a mental note to stir it up again later, when they’d left the smithy.

“Truly pressing concerns? Nothing that won’t wait for a goblin routing,” Yvonne replied offhandedly. “Don’t let us distract ye from yer important work, good sir. There be many goblins and not enough blacksmiths ta compensate, I’d suspect.” The drow-dwarf calculated the risks of saying what she wanted to say, weighing the pros and cons. Could she trust this Tyvin? They didn’t have a lot of time and her window of opportunity was closing. She decided to take it while she could.

“A business proposal for ye ta consider, that be all. I see yer crafting in steel and damascus for tha most part,” Yvonne pointed out, inspecting the craftsmanship on the weapon racks before her. The smith’s pieces had been rushed to completion but would be serviceable, as best she could tell. They lacked the fierce passion and splendour of dwarf-craft armour and weaponry, of course. That said she understood these armaments could have been made in a fifth of the time and would accomplish similar, albeit lesser results on a battlefield. Dwarves preferred perfection, and taking the time to achieve perfection, with their blacksmithing. Nothing worse than a broken shield in tha heat of battle, they liked to say.

“I might be able ta get in touch with a dwarven associate of mine, source for ye a finer metal ta work with. Alerians greedily hoard their precious metals ta themselves, but would ye be interested if small quantities found a way ta ye? I handle tha transportation of trade goods worldwide and I seek buyers,” she explained, proposing her offer - taking a gamble on the knowledge and morality of this man. The fact that she smuggled the ore out of Kachuck was of need-to-know basis. Even if he did find out about that and wasn’t willing to smelt smuggled ore would he go dobbing about her more unscrupulous activities? Unlikely, considering their connections with Henry.

“Goblins turn tail and flee at the sight of dwarven weapons. Ye must yearn ta ply yer craft with better clay,” Yvonne coaxed, a dimpled smirk forming between her cheeks. “Tell ye what, there be no need ta decide tonight. Ye think on it and I’ll return in a few days. I could help ye about tha forge - an extra pair of hands ta take tha stress out of ye work - and we can talk more about it then when yer not so busy. I’ll let ye resume yer tasks. It be marvelous meeting ye Tyvin.” With the bob of another curtsy she saw herself out, leaving the two men in varying states of surprise.

The Rambler
07-14-2018, 11:49 PM
"Huh. Well, you certainly found an interesting one to deal with there, Henry." It took a few moments before Tyvin spoke, the large blacksmith turning his gaze to the lanky bard. Said musician was currently blinking in the direction of the door, trying to figure out where that had come from. He ended up shrugging in response to that, unsure of what to say. "Huh. Wonder how she'll feel about the fact that the master of this forge is an Elf? I know the Drow have some issues with their magic wielding cousins." This time, bright blue eyes swung to the smith.

"Eh. At worst, she'll pull back on the offer. At best she'll ignore it. I figure she'll just try to make sure that her dealings are with you specifically, not... Wait, an Elf? I thought Yark was the master of the forge." Henry was staring at his friend, his eyes having widened in shock halfway through his sentence as something he remembered came back to him. Tyvin rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand and shrugged slightly, shaking his head.

"No. Llukrath had to step up and take over, after Master Yark got injured. One of the apprentices messed up on the bellows, overheated an pour. Master Yark managed to save the kid, but he got burned pretty bad. They're looking for a healer that can treat the metal burns, but for right now it was decided to be best if Master Yark rested at home while someone else took over for the time being. It's... been a bit of a change, but considering Llukrath learned a lot of what he does from Yark, things haven't been too bad. Now then - I'm holding you too long. Tell your girl -" He ignored the attempt at a protest from Henry over that appellation, "that I'll have to talk her offer over with the other journeymen and Llukrath before I can say one way or another. You should run on now. And Henry, seriously, talk to Talion. Having your hand back in the bowyer, even if only for a few days, is sure to help." Henry rubbed the back of his head as he walked towards the door, following in the wake of Yvonne.

"I... know, and I'll tell her, Ty. I just... You know me, I prefer making music to weapons. But I will, I'll go see him tomorrow, I promise. I was thinking about staying in Stonevale for a few days anyway, and going there will give me work to do." And it would keep him busy, distracted, unti lhe finally decided it was time to roll back out of Stonevale. He sighed and waved goodbye to the blacksmith, who was returning back to his work.

Outside, Henry blinked a few times and squinted, looking around and trying to spot Yvonne. His night vision was decidedly lacking, so he didn't spot her right away. "Ah, damn. Hope she didn't get tired of waiting for me." He didn't think he'd been in there talking to Tyvin for too long, but Yvonne wasn't the type to wait around super patiently from what he'd seen, not unless she had a reason to. Her deciding to go exploring on her own was entirely possible, he realized.

Yvonne
07-21-2018, 05:21 AM
Yvonne delicately shut the door behind her and at once brought a perky ear close to the wood, listening. She’d sensed her unexpected appearance had made Tyvin uncomfortable and remaining inside the blacksmith wouldn’t allow him to speak freely with Henry. Eavesdropping occasionally provided benefits, tidbits of information that she’d not overhear otherwise. Tha master of tha forge suffered grievous burns? Hmm… she pondered, wondering if she could treat him somehow. An old elf with metal burns sounds a wee bit beyond me own means of mending, but it always be important ta know who needs help.

She considered this Llukrath, another name spoken beyond the door. Someone who had to step up and manage the affairs of a business without notice. High probability his experience assured he was the most fitting stand-in, but situations like these were never easy on the acting manager. He would be under the most intense stress among the journeymen. Like it or not, he would be the weak point - the chink in the armour - at the current time. Convince this Llukrath that she sought to help their little blacksmith by providing a new source of materials and presto, gold would be hers.

Yvonne silently stepped aside of the opening door, moving with its flow and tucking her little frame in between it and the stone wall, only preventing the door just short of connecting with her face. Henry strolled out of the building and paused, beginning to peer into the darkness, looking for her most likely. She listened to the crunches of his footfalls upon the pebbly ground, unable to see him but knowing precisely where he was. She waited, taking a moment for unease to well up inside him - the thought that he’d been left behind to cross his mind.

The half-breed pushed the door closed and leaped from the shadows, the door slam lending emphasis to the ROAR of her voice! She caught the trusting bard completely by surprise - he jumped away from her in out-and-out panic, tripped on a rock when he touched down, tumbled over and threw his hands out to protect himself. The minstrel’s legs and boots soared overhead and set down again, carrying him right way up. The entire clumsy motion somehow rolled into a neat and tidy cartwheel. He spun to face her with startled eyes.

The mischievous prankster giggled until happy tears streamed down her cheeks and she keeled over, her sides hurting from laughter. She’d not been expecting an impressive acrobatic maneuver from the minstrel but there it was! Not a helpless fiddler when under pressure or put to the test after all. That lean and lanky body of his could elude and evade away from danger better than she’d ever imagined.

“Goodness gracious, yer falling head over heels for me already Henry,” the hybrid commented, cheeky as usual. She could shift between business and pleasure at a moment’s notice, it seemed.

The Rambler
08-04-2018, 10:38 PM
Henry slowly brushed off his hands as he felt his body relax from its sudden burst of adrenaline. The musician dusted his palms clear of the grit from the road as he leveled a steady gaze on the short woman. "Are you sure you aren't projecting, Miss Yvonne? I mean, falling is... Hmm. No, no I've got nothing on this one." He shook his head with a light chuckle. His heart was slowly settling down from its rapid, stattaco beat, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

The bard was a bit relieved that she hadn't gone off on her on. While he was absolutely sure she would have been able to get back to the orphanage on her own - he would have felt rather miserable about it, since he was supposed to be escorting her about the town. He sighed and ran one hand through his hair, shoving the loose locks back and away from his face, then gave her a lopsided smile. "Alright. Now that you've gotten my heart racing for an entirely different reason, we should press on." A full body shake, and he rolled his hand, indicating she should follow him, as he began ambling down the quiet city street.

The night air was thick and warm as they strolled down the street. His destination this time was one of the sleepy little cafes that were still open this late. There weren't many - but as she trailed behind him, he did find one that was still working. He didn't recognize the woman manning the little bar - but that didn't stop him from giving a warm, genial smile as he purchased a pair of chilled drinks.

"So, Miss Yvonne." Henry piped up again, breaking the amicable silence that had fallen. "Are you wanting to see the town more? Or - I know of a nice field that should be a bit cooler than it is here." He raised an eyebrow as he sipped on his drink. Would she even be up for spending more time in his company, or had she had enough of him?