RP:A Day Off

Temple Of Aramoth

The temple, normally flooded with pandemonium, is eerily silence upon Reginae’s arrival. She’d left Alithrya a day or two prior, to meet with Meri and reintroduce her interest in the Adventurer’s guild and their eventual assistance. Bad to talk shop on a first date, though. The single monk guarding the entrance greeted the sylphlike queen-in-disguise with little more than a dip of his balding head before granting her entry. Aramoth’s weapon, usually dominating the base of his statue, is absent. Another nod to the unnatural silence. The vaulted ceilings amplify each light footfall that paints a neat path to the looming brass figure. Here she stands, for several minutes in unbroken silence, arms crossed and brow furrowed in deep thought.

Muzo shuffles through the temple from alcove to alcove, making his way about the enormous temple hall in piecemeal fashion. Frequently, he pauses to study the gleaming, glittering weapons in their display racks. In his dwarven hands he carries a thin slate and a bit of chalk, and hereupon Muzo takes small notes. He's rolled up the hems of the sleeves to keep them from smudging his work which, by all accounts, is illegible to anyone but himself. Today he is conspicuously silent--no droning mutter of scientific babble. Instead, his single eye is every bit as bright and sharp as the myriad blades around him. He does not notice Reginae's entrance.

Reginae’s unstirred presence would be easily overlooked, given her statue-like consideration (of a literal statue). Likewise, the dwarf studying the weaponry on the walls doesn’t register with her until the sound of scribbling chalk is amplified on the singing metal lining the room. She tilts her body, head peeking out from behind the menacing Aramoth, to catch sight of the dwarf. Unwilling to punctuate the venerate silence, she pulls herself leisurely in his direction. If her confidence in the man’s identity threatened to waiver, the wink of sunlight in his red eye dispelled them. Guessing he’d be too involved in his work to notice the proximity of another, as he often was, she choose to linger within arms reach. Silently, Reginae ponders what significance this particular weapon might hold over the others surrounding it. What made this blade worthy of thoughtful scribbling? After a minute or so of enjoying this game, Reginae’s humanoid disguise shuffles papers across the slight distance, presenting the messy stack in the dwarf’s line of sight without pulling her gaze away from the weapons on the wall. Each page was marked with charcoal rubbings of odd shapes. The structure and spacing gave the impression of a written language. Her pale fingers were stained, smudged prints litter the edges of the pages.

Muzo blinks once as the papers interrupt his scribbling. That's not what I'm working on, is it? No those are someone else's. Reginae can easily follow his gaze across the papers, up her arm, and at last, aha, recognition. He croaks a few useless sounds, manages to stuff the piece of chalk in his pocket, and accepts the papers. In the silent temple they rustle like thunder. A nearby monk mutely lays a finger over his stern lips. Muzo clears his throat to apologize (also thunderous) and manages a hoarse "sorry" (worse still). In the lowest whisper he can manage, the dwarf finally gets around to asking, "what are these?"

“I was hoping you could tell me,” she breathes, retracting her arm back into her oversized sleeves once he takes the papers. The other monk is ignored in favor of their hushed conversation. “I pulled these off a...much smaller version of an Aramoth statue in the Adventurer’s guild museum. I don’t recognize them either. Normally wouldn’t matter but the statue was...different.” Different how? She spares a glance to the shushing monk before continuing. “A snake pelt, carved around his waist.” Blasphemous, a detail she immediately noticed. Creator of the naga race...wearing snake skin. Pulling her mind back from the brink of renewed anger, she adds, “What are you working on?”

Muzo flips through the papers. His brow gradually furrows. He turns them this way and that. "Aramoth in a snake pelt?" An odd detail indeed. "Nothing leaps immediately to mind. Have to... I'll have to take these back to the library." Brow quickly unfurrows as the subject shifts. "Oh these, I was ah, looking for inspiration. Always had something of a disdain for violence and such, you know. I was wondering if it had become something of a, ah, blind spot." Muzo adjusts his eyepatch. "No clear idea of application. Just... gathering free data? Feel like... I feel like there's a simple word for that." Again, the solemn monk lays a finger to his lips and gives a firm "shh" to the dwarf. Muzo cringes and tries to lower his tone even further. The pause make him double take, and he blushes, suddenly realizing his manners. "Also, very good to see you. I neglected to say that."

Reginae’s face snaps towards the shushing monk, staring a hole through the very center of his forehead. The monk, made uncomfortable by the direct and potentially lethal death glare wanders further away. This might be the temple of a mighty warrior god but not every altercation need end in bloodshed. Plus that woman was taller than him. Better not to push his luck. Only after the strict schoolmarm has departed does Reginae begin her response. “Thank you.” Her gratitude is professional and polished. It lacked any telltale signs of warmth between them. A smile does creep onto her lips with his explanation. Gathering free data of violence, says the naga responsible for slicing a witch open and experimenting on her insides. What a fine line between science and violence. It certainly wasn’t a ‘war’ or ‘fight’. That’s the conclusion Reginae settles on, anyway. “Research?” She offers, not well versed in concise speech. Naga’s required very little frill and pomp, including high ranking government officials. No need to learn it, beyond diplomatic applications. Humans do love their dramatic speeches. His soft, personal greeting knocks her off balance. They’d been moving in and out of each other’s sphere since they’d come back together again. It left most conversations brief. “I-I neglected the same, s-sorry,” She stammers, struggling to keep her surprise quiet. “It’s very good to see...well not exactly you but…” She clears her throat, gesturing to his disguise. Hers was more...on point for her usual appearance. That humanoid face racket. “I’ve, uh, been thinking we should revisit some things. W-when we can carve out the time. Meant to say so earlier but..." They were both easily distracted by pursuit aimed elsewhere.

Muzo stiffens sympathetically at the sight of Regi's death glare. He pities the monk, no doubt, but is also somehow grateful that he himself is not the recipient. "Research?" Ah right, Muzo is a researcher after all. "I suppose it is, isn't it." He takes Regi's papers, tenderly rolls them, and tucks them into a scroll case. Good to see you, not exactly? This earns a double take. "Things to revisit?" Needing something to fidget, Muzo unrolls his sleeves to fiddle with the hem. "I have a surfeit of time. Is something wrong?"

“Do you?” She questions, genuinely confused. Did she imagine that he hadn’t or was that just what she told herself when -she- was busy? His double take is met with a flinch. “I mean, you but this isn’t…?” She clears her throat, suddenly nervous. Had she misread something?! The re-evaluation takes a beat, leaving prickled silence to fill the gap. “Nothing is wrong.” Er. “I don’t think I said that right.” Her withdrawn fingers dig light grey smudges into her temple anxiously. “Sorry, I thought….” Reginae heaves a heavy sigh. “Let’s try again.” She flashes him a weak smile. “Take a break, from your research. Tomorrow.” Azurite traces the edges of his dwarven mask. “It’s been a long time, since we’ve...Uh, -I’ve-, well.” Since she’d stopped. “Feel like I’ve been taking you for granted, lately.” She averts her gaze to tuck her hand away into her sleeves again. “Would like to remedy that.”

Muzo waits tensely as Reginae flounders, uncertain and ready for terrible news. Had he been wrong to ask so bluntly, now, here, in this sacred place? No, if it had to wait, she would say so, or so he assures himself. The dwarf mirrors her weak smile. "A break?" His mind races to apply the term, and he finds himself reclining easily at the Red Ogre enjoying celery sticks and tomato juice. Oh right. He used to take breaks. "A long while," he agrees prematurely, "since... oh since *we've*?" His eye widens abruptly. "For granted?" The tension melts from his smile, and he hurriedly shakes his head. "How? Don't answer that, because I won't believe you." It's his turn to sigh, relieved. "But I'll still take whatever remedy you have in mind. Tomorrow. Where?"

Reginae doesn’t clarify -why- she thinks she has nor would she even if his rebuke wasn’t present. We are our own worst critics. It does embolden her smile that he’d ‘refuse’ to believe her claims. Bold, for him. When had she last seen him drink tomato juice!? It feels like ages, in some tavern or other. She can’t recall which. Back when Xzavior’d gathered them for...something. How quickly time passes amid distraction. “How about, just this once, you decide.” Her teasing tone is louder than a proper whisper and earns a look from the other, scattered occupants. “Maybe we skip Frostmaw though.” She chuckles, looking towards the door. “Seems I’m causing a ruckus. I’ll meet you tomorrow? Outside the temple?” Just saying it outloud made her feel lighter.

Muzo agrees immediately. "Outside the temple, tomorrow." He nods. "I will think of something suitably... recreational." The promise makes his whir. In a big city like Cenril, there ought to be ample enjoyments. They could read books at the library, or, say, hadn't they rented a boat once? No wait, it was he who rented the boat and stumbled across her. Hmm. His nose wrinkles. For someone who is supposed to be a resident of Cenril, he doesn't know the city that well. Perhaps tomorrow will be a good opportunity to improve his cover. "Let's make a full day of it. Meet before breakfast. Taking the day off starts early, you know."

Reginae nods, beaming. She looks much more like herself than she had in the past few months. Like a woman capable of enjoying herself. “I’ll trust it to you-” Cautiously, she touches his name. What even did he call this dwarven form? Surely it had a name. His eagerness to start the day together makes her laugh, brightening her face further. “If we must work hard, we’ll have to play harder.” Strange footfalls head in their direction. “On that note -”, “I’m going!”, “- tomorrow then.” These forms are so unbalanced; her lithe, tall frame contrasted by Muzo’s stout dwarven guise. He looked at home in shifting now. So clever. Leaning down, she whispers a kiss against his bearded cheek before advancing to the exit with her escort on her heels. “Yes, yes…” She sighs, unenthusiastically, to his hushed lecture on the sanctity of the temple. What a miserable man he must be to enforce the rules so staunchly.

Muzo feels a jolt of electricity at the kiss, however slight, and it leaves him wobbling on his toes. By the time the giddy haze has cleared from his head, Reginae is already nearly out the door. Muzo rubs his cheek, then looks down to see his sleeve has rubbed across his slate. "Balderdash." He tries to knock the chalk dust off his hem but only manages to knock the chalk stick out of his pocket instead. It breaks noisily against the stone. "Shh!" Without Reginae there to stare him off, the monk has returned. Muzo sighs. Maybe his day off is about to start early. Gathering his own things, he leaves the temple not long after his queen.