RP:Country Dinner

From HollowWiki

This is a Healer's Guild RP.


Summary: Thamalys has two errands to take care of, one for the Guild, the other one for himself alone. The success of both of those hangs on the kindheartedness of Artia, who outperforms every Avian’s expectation and also demonstrates how Witches can make most excellent hosts. The negotiations go rather smoothly, possibly helped along by a pleasant country dinner starring fish and wine, till the dusk marks the end of a rather fruitful day : some more herbal stashes for the Guild, an ominous ointment for the Blue's wings, and the promise of a flight for the Witch, bittersweet memories included.

Larket: Artia's Ranch

Thamalys ambled along the dusty path, eyes nailed onto the welcoming features of the location ahead. Possibly in tune with his mood, the Avian wore a whole lot of green: dark, almost black tones wrapping the skinny legs via some not-so-fashionable leathery pants, a lighter shade covering his chest, by means of the fabric of a loose shirt quite plain - if not for an embroidery telling tales of stars and days long forgotten, skilfully stitched with a silvery thread. Those massive wings of his neatly furled, the towering shape of an exceedingly tall halberd perched from his back, laced across his shoulders together with a rather bulky satchel, now freely swaying along his side. White, knotty braids playfully cascading on his bony face, the Blue eventually came in sight of the foyer. He would have stopped for a little, plainly staring at the quiet surroundings - so peaceful, he thought, it must be beautiful to be able to call this Home. He shook his head slowly, trudging along with bare feet - a quirky sight indeed.

Artia || A couple had exit the house, the female clinging to a large vial to her chest. Right behind the couple was Artia, her waist length red hair pinned up into a bun. The witch wore a royal blue lace bodice, with round neck, no v-neck like most of her gowns staying modest at the top. The skirt itself like most her gown are made of silk giving her gown a metallic like shine to it, tiny crystals stitched in along the skirt catching lights to add extra glimmer presentations. The gown is sleeves, the lace embroidered. The back left open in a keyhole design, showing off her tattoo along the golden flesh. The length of the gown was down to her ankles, with a child swaddled against her chest leaving her hands open to do what she needs to do. Which was make a potion, in helping the couple have a child. The female turned with tears running down her cheek, laughing. Bowing her head, taking Artia hand in her's to place a kiss upon it. "Lady Artia, thank you so much." Artia withdrew her hand, and smiled, "No no, no need to thank me. I look forward to the dinner to announce the news of pregnancy. A cup before and after every meal, two cups after...you know. Take each drop til gone, in a week's time you two shall be blessed with a child." Grinning to them, they left. As they departed the child to her chest unstuck her wings, stretching them out with a large yawn. The wings were a dark shade of grey, the off color of her father's black wings. Looking outwards, if spotted Thamalys a nod would be given. Turning she left the door open, walking straight into her witchy kitchen.

Thamalys kept walking, the distance between the Avian and the four of them quite enough to allow him to make sense of that scene - conversation included. He knew nothing of family, his mind broken so badly he did not even recall he had in fact a brother, lost somewhere beyond the Xalious Mountains - and yet, he could not help the hint of a smile crossing this thin, almost grey lips when he saluted with a brisk nod the couple passing by, his stature not exactly putting them at ease. A swift gesture of his left hand would have followed, together with a soft sigh as well. Having no additional clue, the Blue interpreted Artia’s salutation as a sort of invitation, and thus off he went indeed, quickly covering the distance separating him from the Witch. He would have thus entered the kitchen, inhaling avidly the mixture of comforting smells. His solid blue eyes gazing here and there, they eventually would have settled on the wine bottles - Avians do pride themselves to know something about Reds after all. ”Eventide, ma’am…” he would have begun, pacing around tables and shelves trying not to stumble into anything with those cumbersome wings, his right hand unconsciously - or not? - caressing the above mentioned bottles, tempting liquids calling within. “I go by the name of Thamalys, and two errands brought me here: one on behalf of the Guild, the other on behalf of myself.” A pause, while focussing on the little one, the index finger of his right hand quite impolitely pointing at those greyish wings. A split second, then he gained back his stance, cheerfully waving the same hand as to greet the tiny winged creature - grey. Not exactly his colour, that has to be said - hence a not exactly friendly grin would have surfaced within that tattooed face of his.

Artia figured the male would follow in, she left the door open as an invitation to enter. She did not know who he was, but if he was on this side of Larket, most likely was looking for Artia. Or the  Chapel of Pleasure down the street, her home was a mix of herbs, spices and honey suckle. Artia's natural scent was honey suckle, plus it helped that her hand ointments was infused with honey suckle oils. Working to put away ingredients left out, a fish cut open to gather it's eggs. A snake missing eyes, and it's egg sac, a few variety of herbs crushed into a shell,  a cauldron still bubbling on the stove behind her. Looking up, she offered him a smile, noting him being curious about her selection of wines. "I can get you a cup, if you wish to pick a bottle to drink from." When he reached towards her child, she smacked his hand away. "I think that was a bit to close to my personal boundaries, as well Ava-Marie's." The smile stayed put, tilting her head. She turned, placing the herbs she crushed into a herbal pouch. Opening the middle cabinet, placing it in. For the rest of the items that could not be used would end up in the waste basket, minus the fish. That could be dinner later, "I am Artia."

Thamalys recoiled sharply as he received the clear-cut rebuke from the hands of the Witch. For a moment only, golden sparks would have clustered in his eyes, the hint of a blue, scalding haze raising from the ivy-shaped tattoos covering much of his body - less then a split second, though, that long he needed to accept the probably well deserved reprimand and move on to answer properly. “I… I would not refuse a glass of the noble nectar - does it come from some vineyards nearby? Oh…” he went on, pitch descending by quite an extent, “I did not know about beautiful Ava-Marie, but I knew who you are, Artia. Who you are is the reason why I am here”. Not a single note out place within his voice, not a threat, no irony, nothing. Much as his face - apparently carved out a solid piece of white marble - the tone of the Blue would have remained absolutely unfathomable. He would have followed her movements, taking note - for no particular reason - of every detail, but it was the scent that really lifted his mood. Until one of the reasons of his visit eventually was disclosed, that is. “Alas! As you certainly know, that dreadful quake turned our beloved House (of Ara) into a pile of ruins” - he paused, pouting his lips as if trying to deal with the pain within those words. The only place he could call Home… gone, with his books, and notes, and herbs, and everything. A long sigh would have followed, words struggling to come together. “Point is, ma’am, most of our provisions got lost, so that many of us are running low of… well, everything, to be fair, but herbs, herbs in particular, we do not have enough, at all, not to keep the pace with the soaring numbers of wounded - it is a real issue. Hence…” he would have continued, his voice measured and soft, obviously genuinely concerned, “… hence I was was wondering. Would you be willing to lend some of your stashes to the Guild? For the time being, I mean!” he hastily added, finally finding a good place for his hands to rest, on top of the wooden board behind him, far away enough from the distracting wine.

Artia listened, pouring a glass of red wine, so red it was close to black. If he drank from the cup, he would find it was a strong wet wine and not dry like some red wines. She knew how short the stock was before she resigned from the healers guild, but either way she was an outside help when they needed it. Grabbing another glass, getting herself a glass of strawberry wine. "I have a full supply within my botanical gardens nearby house of Ara, I know some of it was flooded. But there is also stash of herbs deep in the enchanted woods, even in my private collection in my backyard. I will never turn away any healers needing my item or tools. Take what is needed, some of the healers I have housed a few nights. Others I have help to spare cots in the sickbay," She took a sip of the wine, grabbing a basket she had covered. Placing it infront of him, pulling off the cloth to reveal a variety of pastry goods. "I can show you which cabinet and self you can take from. I keep everything highly detailed in labels, my kitchen is open to you.”

Thamalys seized the chalice, bringing the latter a centimetre or so from his nostrils, gratefully enjoying the tannic redolence of the wine. He would have waited to actually take a sip, the words of the Witch calling for some attention indeed. “This is excellent news…” he noted, a slight dip of his head to the right indicating some sort of relief, “… on behalf of the Guild, I shall thank you for your helpfulness, and… oh, on my word, what is it, this… cornucopia of high cooking? Do you mind if I…” he would have interjected, his interest suddenly diverted by the pastries. On the verge of being childish, granted, but the day had been a long one, and big birds have to eat after all. Assuming the Witch would have let him, the Blue would have stuffed the most chocolatey one into his mouth, helping it down with a generous dose of the wine - quite a pleasant trading up to now. He indulged a moment longer, before, letting go of the sweets - and, reluctantly, of the Red as well. “Artia, this Avian shall hereby declare that no kitchen in Larket can beat your baking - or you wine, indeed…” he stated, right hand high above his head, solemn. “But there is another matter, if I may be so bold to steal some more of your time. I…” and here he frowned, almost as if ashamed, the words that would have followed sort of whispered instead of uttered.

Artia pushed the basket more towards him, a soft giggle escaping her at how he spoke of her cooking and wine. "I do the red wines myself and the strawberry wines, as for the question earlier." The half avian child was fast asleep, turning around she grabbed a rag. Wiping off the remaining evidence from the counter, and tossing the rag into the sink, content that the kitchen was clean for now. Waving her hand over the fish, whispering a chant to herself, the  not edible parts of the fish fell off of it. Leaving a fillet left, leaning over she grabbed a skillet, tossed in rosemary then the fillet. Cooking the fish up, turning back to the avian, "May you?" He seemed stuck on the words 'I', "Steal more of my time for what?"

Thamalys || There would have been little need for the Witch to turn toward the Avian at all, as the latter would have swiftly followed her - or the rosemary scent, more likely. In fact, the Blue would have been perching from her very shoulders - at a respectful distance, of course - pondering the choice of the herb and even daring to make a proposition. “An hint of thyme, maybe, yes?” he hopefully enquired before getting back to the pressing matter at hand. “Ehm…” he cleared his throat, possibly reaching for yet another sip of that Red, “I… I might have heard about a cumbersome potion… an oil, in fact… capable of hardening every sort of thing to the point it becomes impenetrable. Things, and flesh, and even… well, feathers. It is quite a treacherous recipe, I found in this very book…” he proceeded, producing from his satchel a huge tome with a black leather cover, a pungent smell emanating. He would have laid that ponderous volume on the table, while explaining to the Witch “… I would try and prepare it myself, but I am missing most of the ingredients, and some of them I never heard about… so.” A pause, a long one, the only sounds in the room the sizzling fish in the pan and quite possible the slow breath of the tiny winged one - good. Certain things, kids should never hear. “So I am asking, Artia. Would you be willing to try, to prepare this oil for me? I need quite a lot of it, in fact… say, about one litre? And of course, of course…” he would have added soon after, hands gesturing widely as if to stress his good will, “… I can pay, whether in gold, or however else you see fit… that would be up to you to decide, but know that I never fail my word”, he concluded with a timid bow.

Artia noticed he wasn't one to keen on keeping to much space between him and others, a smirk appeared along her plump ruby lips. "Shall I step aside and let you finish cooking your dinner?" She waited til he was done speaking, then she grabbed a tray full of tried herbs letting him finish up the fish that she started cooking for him. Turning she went to her bedroom, laying the child in her bed. Moving back out to him, taking the book to look up the oil he spoke of, "Hmm, this should almost what I made for the wooden forks." She opened a drawer, lifting up a wood shaped fork. "I dipped it during a full moon, kinda witch style. Ritual and such, but if this book has an easier way we can try. But I will use leaves to test it on before those.." She moved up, running a hand gingerly along a wing, "Magnificent wings, I envy the ones that can fly. I wish I could, but I just catch rides." She moved to lean against the counter, "I never accept gold, just favors or friendships for payment. I'm allergic to fish, so you will have to eat it.”

Thamalys seemed to have taken an actual interest for the ultimate fate of the fish, eventually grumbling a timid “oh well, if you truly insist, then…” right before taking control of the cooking himself - the cheek of it! Overall, a most exceptional occurrence for the Blue, who grabbing a ladle presently went ahead and tried to address the wording of the Witch while keeping and eye of what apparently had a very big probability of becoming his dinner. “That… well, that is most considerate of you - thank you, for the second time this evening…” and the he froze, the very moment the Witch dared to touch the feathery ridge of his wings. Such an innocent gesture for a human, what an absolute outrage for an Avian. He let go of the ladle, which connected with the floor a couple of seconds after, the whole body of the Spellblade tensed to an apex, while he tried to convince his body that he had to endure this - in fact, to get used to it, a worrying number of people and creatures having fallen already for that utter disrespect of Avian privacy. He felt already the flames mounting within his skin, a fiery flow so fierce he did not know he could have stopped it - but he did, for one time, most likely because of the homely settings and even more so because of the kindness of the Witch. Only a pale shade of blue would have shone upon him now, and yet he could not help an icily tone. “No gold - understood. Friendship… why, mine you have already, that much I can assure you. Favours? Just name one, Artia the Kindhearted, and I shall oblige. As a start, I would be happy to make you feel some Wind in your hair… on one condition, though. Never. Touch. My Wings. Ever Again.” He shook his ahead shortly after the last remark, as to scoff away that silly tone - some boundaries, though, mattered a lot to him indeed.

Artia || The female, had lost her ability to read auras due to a cursed object, so she couldn't read the emotion changes happening within him. The other two avian's she had met loved for her to touch their wings, but she read his eyes. He didn't seem to share the same comfort of her touching their wings, her own daughter loved it. Maybe this male was a different type of avian,  or she had gained their trust that she could. The fact be dropped one of her kitchen tools, caused a red brow to lift. Moving she Bent down to pick it up, placing it into her sink. Grabbing another, "Do you need me to take over the cooking? As for kind hearted, if others heard you call me that they would laugh. Or think I be spelled you somehow, I am now. Once I had my daughter my life changed, for the better I assume you." The thought of him taking her for a flight, her eyes went wide a hand to rest above her heart. He had told her something that hit right inside her heart, something she use to enjoy with a lost love. Turning her head away, licking her lips to blink back the tears. Clearing her throat, "No favor will ever be asked but to help me and my child if it ever comes to that is all. The fish should be done.”

Thamalys cracked something fairly similar to a smile. “The fish is done. Here, let me help set the table - it is the least I can do. I came here with matters to be treaded, and now I am getting a dinner for free. Why, maybe you did hex me - I would not mind”. He went on to reach for plates, and cutlery - he would have not enjoyed his food alone. “Understood”, he simply responded to the poignant words of the Witch. He still struggled to label human emotions, to put them into context, to react accordingly. Broken, certainly he was, but never lost again if his good fortune with many a Larketians would have kept smiling to him. Eventually, he took a sit, hoping the Redheaded would have done the same - he had to ask. “Your child… she is a beautiful one, everyone must have told you that much. The father…” he let that fall into the silence, the noisy cluttering of fork and knife oddly contrasting with the gravity of the question - if a question truly was.

Artia would not allowed a guest to dine alone, that was rude to expect. Grabbing a buttermilk biscuit and a jar of apple butter, she placed it on the table. Grabbing the red wine bottle, and her strawberry wine bottle to join the plates on the table. "If I hex you, Thamalys you would have given me a hug and placed me in a chair without my feet touching the ground." She smirked, sitting down in the chair across from him. Crossing her long legs, as she placed the apple butter on two biscuits. Placing one on her plate, and the other to his. "I don't hex any of my friends, they have my word that I will have their backs." When he spoke of the childs father she smiled gently, "I am a widow, but her real father is always far away. It's just ava and I, and I am told she is beautiful a lot. She is the only child out of two other pregnancies to make it. I am blessed to have her. “

Thamalys seemed utterly intent to wolf down the fish - at least when the cheeky remark about hexes and chairs reached his hears. More than a hundreds years old he was, and still blushing like a kid nonetheless. He listened carefully to the awful list of losses the Witch had to endure. The Gods were at least merciful enough to give her Ava-Marie - and what a gift she was. “Blessed, indeed. Let us have a toast, then. To your beautiful little one…” he began, raising his half-empty (somebody would have said half-full) glass, “… and to the blessed day she’ll climb the Winds with you on her shoulders. May that day come soon!”. Whatever the answer to that cheer, the Avian would have then embarked, if allowed, into a knotty conversation about the many therapeutic uses of mountain flowers, in the attempt to steer the conversation toward happier tides. In the meantime, dusk was about to catch them all - and the Blue still had some errands to take care of. He would have helped with the plates, gazed upon the sleeping one and kept on thanking the Witch till the very last word of his, though, twice as happy as he could be, some herbal stashes for the Guild secured and the preparation of a very special ointment in most excellent hands. All of that on top of the fish and the wine, the Avian came to the conclusion that day went well spent indeed. Pacing through the foyer and out, the smells of the evening accompanied his march back to the City, the massive shapes of the Blue disappearing in to the darkness ahead. “Witches…” one could have heard him whispered through his clenched teeth, a wide grin across the inked face of the Spellblade.

Artia giggled lightly, and whole heart at the blush upon his visage, leaving the be to not comment upon. Raising her glass, "To new friends, and the benefit ball to be of success. May Larket heal once more!" Then the topic was changed, her whole form and body seemed to light up. Going on and on about flowers and different herbs, the many was she could use them. This was one of the longest meetings she had, had in awhile and it was a joy. The having help with the dishes, another relief and she continued talking maybe even making soft jokes to hope to keep him in a goof spirit. Walking him to the door, she would close and lock the door. Heading into the living room where she would grab a book, and lay infront of the fireplace.