Varin hadn’t been prepared for the cascade of indigo that fonted from the teapot’s spout, and it nearly tumbled its way out of his hands for shock. He stood motionless as the mist snaked out. It burbled something about dreams as it collected on the ground and solidified into mortal form. The emerging figure was a human girl-child in a simple blue dress. She had hair of deep indigo, an uncommon color to be sure, with eyes to match. Arie chattered in delight at the pretty child, pleased to meet this curious new being. Her dragonic friend was somewhat less enthused, though no less awed.

Children. Varin was no good with them.

Aside from sketching a nobleman’s sons, his last close encounter with a child -- well, a child-like being -- had not gone very well. Yet compared to the one from that incident, this child was strikingly subdued. There were no complaints from her about the frigid snow falling onto her frail form. No complaints at all, actually. Her gaze wandered around the docks, at first in confusion and with murmured questions. Then, her eyes melted into liquid disappointment when she spotted her teapot clutched between Varin’s fingers.

"Master. Your will is mine," she told him simply, sinking into a deep curtsey.

That was a sentence the floored Drakari had never expected to be uttered towards him. Though her tone was unwavering, Varin thought he detected a strain of reluctance to the words. Inquiries of his own slipped from his mouth unbidden. It came off more rudely than he had intended. “Who are you, how did you get inside a teapot, and what on Althanas bids you to call me your Master?” he demanded, albeit through a daze. The last word left him with an ugly taste in his mouth and a gagging sensation in the back of his throat.

The mysterious teapot girl lowered her head and began her answer, only to be cut short by a harsh breath of wind. Shivers rippled her as it whipped her hair back from her face.

Varin winced. “Ahh, nevermind, you may wait a moment to give me explanation.” What was he thinking? Shooing Arie off of his shoulder -- which only forced her to cheerfully hop onto his head instead -- he removed his outer robes. Thankfully, he had the foresight to garb himself for the weather with a plain, long-sleeved shirt underneath, as well as his typical slacks. The girl’s mouth fell open in surprise as he drew the cloak around her shoulders. It left him colder than before, but it wasn’t as if he weren’t already cold and miserable in the first place. “I hope that helps. To answer your earlier question, we are in Salvar, which may explain the snow and the general eyesore nature of this place. The bird is Arie, I am Varin,” he introduced himself uneasily, with a low whistle from his sparrow friend. “If you would answer my questions from earlier, that would be lovely. And as you do so, please, refrain from referring to me as your ‘master’. It is not a word I associate with pleasant memories.”

A heavy shudder wracked the Drakari, and it was not from the chill.