RP:All Short Jokes Aside, How About a Magic Carpet Ride?
House of Ara 2am Its beginning to rain
Lydrain walked up to the door of the House of Ara, and let out a sigh. Not about him being here, rather, this visit was a reprieve from his current, much more stressful, environment. Putting on a smile, he knocked on the door, hoping that Sabrina was home.
Sabrina rose to a knock weak and weary. She took quiet steps bare-foot across the cold floor. She wore a simple black shirt for the hour was wee and the sleep was still heavy in her eyes. Moments after the nightly waking the door to the House of Ara opened just enough to spy the glimmering minty eyed woman staring up at Lydrain. “What?” There was no recognition in her face or her voice. To be honest she seemed somewhat irritated as he found her on a sleeping night.
Lydrain shook his head, "I'm sorry Sabrina, sometimes I forget that people actually sleep at night..." He chuckled, almost out of a nervous reaction, this what not what he had intended. Looking back at her, "I really just came by to apologize for this morning, I didn't mean to run out on you after just saying hello, but.. well, I've been somewhat busy as of late. Also, I came by to check on Rohk, he was in rough shape last time I saw him."
Sabrina opened the door and walked to a plush velvet chair in the center of the room opposite the luminous book. She figured he would follow as it was the closest thing to an invitation he was going to get. “Rohk isn’t here.” She figured he probably knew her and was too tired to explain she had no clue who he was anyway. “He isn’t dead or anything.” She rubbed her eyes adorably and tucked thin bare legs beneath her form. Her right arm seemed to be healing splendidly from a new wound since he had seen her last. The room was dark and cold as the night would allow.
Lydrain let out a sigh, "Well, I'm glad that he is... still kicking." After which he did follow her in, closing the door behind himself. Finding a suitable piece of furniture, he sat himself down, and then noticed the wound, healing as it may be, on her arm. Cocking his head to the side, "What happened there?"
Sabrina’s left arm tugged her legs close to her form and she’d wished Rohk was near to warm her up. The arm was covered in pearly tattoos- ones akin to the parchment she used to carry; with words that swirled and twisted like the pages of the book, ever moving, ever remembering. The right arm comes to cover the left and she locks it in place. “I wish I knew… somehow I became won with nature.” It was cryptic, but a small smile crosses her face in afterthought of the many ways she could have ended up there. “I ported into a tree, it was all very painful.” No one told her she should have ported only to a place she had been before… in hindsight it was probably an obvious practice.
Lydrain cocked his head to the side, "You are alright then?" Her memory seemed to even dislodge some incredibly recent memories, and, upon that realization, he assumed that she probably didn't know who he was. Chuckling slightly, "If you weren't aware, my name is Lydrain, and I am the headmaster at the academy in Larket. We have met on several occasions, and I have even written an article in your book." That being said, he couldn't help himself but to begin to look for the book. He was, at least in part, obsessed with it. He was a dragon, and books are what he hoarded, and this book was one of a kind.
Sabrina couldn’t help but shake the feeling she should have written this down a long time ago. She rises from her seat and makes her way past him in silence. When she walked by he would smell sweet lavender and sandalwood. She finds a carafe full of an amber liquid and pours two glasses, bringing both vessels as well as the decanter back with her. She would then slide a drink in his hand fluidly. “Did anything happen after you wrote in the book?” She was curious if the stories were true, although his answer would prove nothing since she knew little of his skill and even less of what he added to the pages. She slinks back down in her chair sparing no decency as the shirt rose inexplicably high on her pale thighs. She was of course wearing things underneath but should probably put some pants on at some point- it will cross her mind later. Placing the decanter on the side table lazily she warms her lips with the liquid that for once was not just water.
Lydrain begins to drink what he is handed, sometimes having a dragon's constitution is handy, you can pretty much handle anything. Shaking his head to the side, "Nothing, particular. Everything I wrote down was correct, so I don't believe I have the book's death curse, if that is what you mean?" He was, at least a little, bit confused. As for how uncomfortably high her shirt was riding, Lydrain wouldn't even notice. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate a view, he just was in a different mindset, and, therefore, it wouldn't even register to him that it was, indeed, slightly scandalous
Sabrina figured she probably had written something down about him, but with the parchment missing it was difficult to say what that something was- but whatever it was, it was eating at her as she sat in silence. She poured another drink, reflections of the writings on her arm glittering like a dream across the surface of her pale skin. She brings the decanter up, offering a much needed refill to Lydrain, but not offering a delivery service in which he should come upon it. A glint of a symbol on Lydrain’s person mirror images a swirling symbol on Sabrina’s arm- which obviously piqued her interest. She did write something down. She sits up, nursing the hem of the shirt in a less scandalous direction. “Lydrain?” Her voice was always melodic and drenched in a heavy accent, but suddenly also laced with questionable fear. She holds her arm out to him, his own symbol screaming back if he looked. Beneath it a jagged Elvish word formed slowly. “It says Forsaken. Why?” She became very nervous and pushed her small form back into her chair. She neglected to carry a weapon when sleeping and was suddenly very defenseless.
Lydrain stood, and made his way towards her, so he could get that refill. The brandy was delicious, and he wasn't going to turn more of it down. He was almost back to his chair when he heard Sabrina say his name, and that caused him to pivot in place. Fear was never a good sign, and he had been dealing with a lot of if lately. It took him a moment to realize that there was something on his hand, almost as if it was trying to get his attention. Looking, he then understood her reason for fear. Shaking his head, "I don't know. Does Forsaken mean something? Outside of the standard, 'given up on'."
Sabrina thought of her unexplained wounds and the manner in which she could have arrived at them. Why did she port so hastily and why did it feel like it was related to this man? She tries to place the decanter steadily on the table but her current state of shaking hands causes it to fall to the floor, soaking its contents into the woven carpet beneath their feet. The carpet moves, jumbling the table, the chair, and anything standing upon it. It moves again, tugging a third time to free itself from the items pinning it there. Sabrina hits the floor most ungracefully, still clutching the small glass that held the stench of emptied sprits. The carpet shakes off the fluid and rolls itself tightly to lean against the wall. Sabrina’s panic quickly is overcome with confusion and she looks to Lydrain like he did it.
Lydrain made a motion to catch the decanter as it fell, but failed, and also attempted to catch Sabrina, also failing, apparently he wasn't as quick as he had hoped, but, it could just be the lack of sleep. After realizing it was the carpet itself moving, and not something underneath it, he just watches with an odd curiosity. After it rolls agains the wall, he catches Sabrina's accusatory glance. Shaking his head, "It wasn't me. I thought you might have a self cleaning rug, or something, but I have no idea why it did what it did." He made his way to where she had landed, and reached out a hand, to help her up, careful to use the hand that was free of any markings.
Sabrina was still suspect of his nature and hesitates to take his hand. She figured it best to investigate the nature of her scribbles before placing judgment however she would proceed with great caution from here on out. Taking his hand he would lift her effortlessly as her tiny form wasn’t much for anyone to move who wasn’t a pixie. She was torn on what questions had priority over the others and decides to pick up a fire poker and approach the carpet like some primal huntress. She pokes the rug lightly, then a little harder. Looking back at Lydrain she bites her lip and quickly turns around and takes a full swing at the artifact once known as Basil’s Flying Carpet. She didn’t think for a minute it could actually fly. The rug unravels briskly, springing out its shape and striking her slight frame fully. She slammed back in Lydrains direction with such force it might’ve knocked them both over if his reactions were as lazy as hers.
Lydrain was still on edge, and had his draconic strength, even if it was diminished slightly by his current size, so catching her wasn't much of an issue. Quirking an eyebrow, "I don't mean to sound like a idiot, but, praytell, why are you attacking the rug?" Instead of waiting for an answer, he said several words in elven, hoping to 'blunder' into the command word for the rug, causing it to cease its activities.
Sabrina wasn’t ‘attacking’ the rug…persay. Just curious as to what made it do what it was doing. She pushes herself out of Lydrain’s grasp and childishly curses him in Elvish. She regains her composure and eyes the rug again. Did he render it inanimate? The rug, for now, was still. But rather than soliciting another act of violence against her person she thought the better reaction was just to get it to move, if only slightly. She reaches for another decanter on the table and throws it at the rug. It splashes its contents fully. The rug in turn shakes of the access and hovers just over head and wrings itself out over her head. She. Was. Pissed. She jumps upward, trying to pull the thing down by the tassels. Truth be told Lydrain was probably on the right track finding the base language of commands to get it to perform as requested. Sabrina snarls at him “Basil was human, Larketian even.” Any studies at the Academy would reveal her words to be true. She adds one more word to her remark in impeccably clear River Elf “Idiot.” She was quick to throw names around, since it was not yet clarified if this had even belonged to Basil in the first place. If it did, it would no doubt place ownership to the current Academy Headmaster.
Lydrain quirked his head to the side, and then realized why the name sounded familiar. Chuckling to himself, and then speaking in common, "Rug, or... err... I'm not sure what to call you. If you would be so kind as to come over here please." He wasn't sure why he was trying the polite method, but magic was funny like that, and, if this thing had developed any amount of sentience, it would be better not to piss it off.
Sabrina didn’t like is calm and reasonable approach. Calm and reasonable is what got people hurt. She hoped she would have a chance to unravel its weave and dissect every sentient ounce from it for trophy. She pouted, smelling the drink in her hair that she just damned washed. Three foot of trusses was a nuisance on a five foot girl. She righted her once tipped chair and slumped down in it while she watched Lydrain tame his new toy into submission.
Lydrain watched with amazement as the rug floated its way towards him, he patted it much the same way one would a dog, "You were just tired of being used as common furniture weren't you?" He realized how that statement could be taken, only after he said it. Quickly, he turned to Sabrina, "I didn't mean it that way. I mean, if it had never shown you sentience before, how could you know, right?" He had hoped it was enough of an apology, but his luck had been running rather thin lately, as far as other people were concerned, so it probably wasn't. He let out a light sigh, and turned back to the rug, "So you belonged to Basil, huh? I would have really enjoyed meeting him..." That last part may have just been small talk, but it was also true. Though, due to his academic mindset, he was always looking forward to meeting anyone who had insight into things he did not.
Sabrina rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. She looked around the room- there must be more drink in this musky old house. Her eyes light up when she spies an unsuspecting vessel appearing to contain a good quality cognac. She smiles like she is in heaven and makes her way to an old book case looking rather sparse of any real findings. It was of course too high. She bites her lip staring up at the shelf that the fine drink made home and decides it is well worth the climb. Humans… always walking around and building things like they were so damn tall. Who would ever put anything that high anyway- it seems to her to be much of an inconvenience at any height.
Lydrain noticed Sabrina looking around, and that made him curious. After he spied her looking towards the bottle on the top shelf, he spoke, "I could get that for you if you would like?" He was tall and slender, much like your standard high elf, so it shouldn't be much of a problem for him to reach the top shelf. The rug almost made a nuzzling motion against Lydrain, and that confused him, "Are you completely sentient? Or, perhaps a dog turned into a flying carpet?"
Sabrina’s cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. He did not just go there. “I can get it my self.” She grumbles at him. She couldn’t get it herself without possibly dumping the case on its face. There was simply no leverage. She makes for the door, surely one of them should leave. “Have fun with your carpet-dog.” She storms out, slamming the door behind her. An awkwardly silent moment later she comes back in. Her posture is perfect and her voice shaking with cold. “I am not wearing pants.” Holding her chin high she makes her way to her room down the hall and slams the door there too. She walks briskly back through with no acknowledgement of the rug or the dazed dragon, donning a pair of cotton night-pants and an intricate bow that made her appear very underdressed for what ever it was she planned on doing. She makes a huffing noise and slams the front door shut behind her once more.
Lydrain walks up to the shelf, and, by standing on the balls of his feet, he reaches the bottle of cognac. Setting it down on the endtable, he pulls paper, ink, and quill out of his backpack, which he always carried, and begins to write something down. It takes him a while, as writing his entire entry into the book from memory took a bit of thinking. Afterwards, he would place his 'thesis' on the use and applications of raw magical energies underneath the cognac, as an apology, and would beckon for the rug, which we has contemplating naming after the wizard it used to belong to, out the door.