RP:Iscattiva meets Quinmyutiotu
Merchant Street
Here appears to be the beginning of the western half of Merchant Street, and already it seems to be too busy for its own good. To the north, a secure-looking stone building sets, with two short, goblinlike creatures stationed at the heavy wooden doors. Their gazes simultaneously fall upon you, and each reaches with one gnarled hand for the hilt of a sword at its side. Somewhere inside, there must be something of great value-gold perhaps, or gems. Such a heavily guarded building can only be a bank. From the south, aromas of food drift toward your nostrils, combining with the other scents of the road to form a pungent odor.
From inside the bakery shattering dishes, an angered shout, grunt of effort, and alarmed yelp combine to prelude the appearance of a tall, blonde woman clad heavily in gold-scale plate armor, her weighty form sent sailing out the door to spill into the streets with a resounding crash. Mrs. Mallard's burly nephew stands in the open doorway a moment longer to survey his most recent evictee before he snorts and withdraws after stating, "No gold, no goods" and slamming the delicate white door shut with enough force to make the customer bell ring madly. Said armored evictee remains slumped on the ground where she's been tossed, looking remorsefully into the distance as she mutters, "I only wanted sweet buns." Sighing miserably, she pushes herself up to sit kneeling upon the cobblestones, and brings a closed hand up to her face, whereupon it's open to reveal a small pile of golden scales glistening in her palm. "Are these not golden enough?" They fit the description of currency taught to her, small, smooth, round, and--most importantly--gold. Yet the teashop's owner had raised an unearthly fuss when presented with them after Iscattiva had eaten her fill of pastries, cookies, cakes, and other such confections.
Ranok was on his way through Cenril, thinking about those same sticky buns. He usually swung by on his way to the ferry, which was the best way back to Rynvale. At least until he got flight down pat for his armor. Draeta could do a jump based flight substitute, but the landing was incredibly painful, the process sickening, and as a result, on a strict 'emergencies only' basis. To say nothing of the blue who's blood fueled the process was beginning to run down to dangerously low levels. He arrived just as Catti was ejected from the bakeroom in a fairly unceremonious manner. This, of course, keyed the instinctual response in the smith. A less known fact was his heroic streak, especially for damsels in distress. It would be the death of him one of these days. Not all all recognizing Catti in her human form, he strolls up to offer her his hand up off the curb, "SCHtrange. Hy've seen men ejected from a tavern, but a voman from a tearoom...? Dat iz nev. Might Hy ask vat heppened?" Other hand pushes the brim of his hat up, slightly. Duster billows gently, behind him. Armor gleams white as if polished. He looked like a goddamn storybook hero. If only personality shone through, instead.
Iscattiva looks up from her sulking to find a familiar face looming over her. This is certainly a new angle to view him from, usually she's taller than him. Curse the smallness of this form, even if it did grant her entrance to places with delicious food--and tastier tableware. Lost on this thought, she forgets to inform Ranok of who she is, likewise forgetting he is not a dragon and thus not able to indentify her between shapes as easily as her saurian kin can. Blinking then, she glances from the extended hand to her own and, hazarding a guess at the gesture, dumps the handful of scales into Ranok's own. "They did not accept my scales, Sir Ranok! I swear to you it is properly golden! I would never paint them!" Although she may look different to the blacksmith, the voice and word structure is undoubtedly Iscattiva's.
Ranok blinks, taking a step back in his surprise. He recovers quickly. And shoots a dirty look at Draeta, who was as bright as a trio of stars over his right shoulder, while he was at it. His own sensory abilities paled in comparison to the armor's. Likely, Draeta knew all along and the smith simply didn't ask. Typically, the lights displayed even less guilt or any sort of emotion that even Ranok would. He looks into his hand, which was full of the scales of a gold. He'd put it all together fairly quickly. "Oh. Uh. Oh, Hy see. Dis hain't gold. It's *golden*. Dis iz gold, und vat dey vant. De metal." He fishes a golden coin out of his coinpurse and holds it close to the scales so the difference could be seen. "Hy forget dat hyu're...ineksperienced, in dese sorts uf tinks. Hy guess not hall dragons instinctively know vat gold iz. Hy kinda assumed."
Iscattiva plucks the coin out of Ranok's hand to inspect it more closely. A look of disgust crosses her scarred face moments later. "They want =lair lining=? I know shed scales do not hold much value, but this holds even less." Or at least it does within her clan, as hers is not a breed known for hoarding away gold and silver pieces. They value craftsmanship above all else, even if most other dragons trip over themselves at the sight of money. It'd seem Iscattiva's father has once again proven to have left holes in his instructions, either out of age-borne forgetfulness or to provide a further challenge to his daughter. "I am no common Red," there's a hint of that draconic pride peeking through in her frustration, "and I have no desire to assault a village, where can I acquire more of these =properly=?" After a moment longer looking at the coin, and after deciding it is not nearly as pleasantly shiny as her scales, she returns it to Ranok.
Ranok frowns a little, "Hey, now. Gold hain't useless. It never korrodes, for vun. It makes vonderful konnections ven operatink vith kertain...odder properties. Und its schiny. Und malleable. Und, its rare. Sorta. A technically limited supply in de vorld vich maintains a base level value. Hence, vy hyu see it used as kurrency. Henny old tink kan vork, really, as long as everyone agrees dat its vorth zumddink. Hy vunce sav a kulture dat used *ideas* as a kurrency. It takes hall sorts." He pockets the thing. "Hyu get money by vorkink. Hy gadder dat hyu vorked up a debt vith Miss Mallard, here, for her nephev to hef trown hyu out. Hy tink dis issue iz easily resolved. Hy kould eliminate you debt, for hyu, but Hy tink hyu schould vork it klean instead. Dere are alvays deeshes to be kleaned und floors to be svept." And it would knock a little of that pride off, hopefully, to boot. Nothing was more humbling then physical labor. The smith was confident he could get Miss Mallard to accept. He knew the woman from when Brina worked there in the tea room, though it pained him to remember her.
Iscattiva's expression brightens then. "Working? With the humans? That I can do!" She's performed such chores before. Unfortunately, her definition of cleaning dishes consists of licking away the dust that has settled on the decorative plates lining her family's lair, and sweeping floors involved putting both wings and tail to use to clear away gathered debris. Iscattiva is as fastidious as a cat, cleaning she can do. Or at least a dragon's style of cleaning. She is a walking bundle of destructive, made all the worse for being so well-intentioned. Looking determined, the Gold jumps to her feet and sweeps her crimson cloak out behind her before declaring, "By Cyris, after I have repaired this error, I will work further to earn currency!"
Though not particularly fond of cities, Quinmyutiou had to admit leaping from rooftop to rooftop was on the same level as running through treetops in terms of fun. The unfamiliar obstacles utterly baffled her as well. After weaving around a crooked chimney that she couldn't help doubling back to give a examination, the dryad leapt from the roof to a lower rooftop. The sound of a familiar voice brought her free running adventure to a halt, however. After hooking one foot beneath a loose roof tile, Quin peeked her head out and over the roof's edge. A smile spread across her blue lips at the sight of Ranok and the unfamiliar lady he conversed with. She exhaled a breath over the engravings in that cockatrice skull on her head "Aah~! It's the Giant One. We're doing the crossing of the pathways often, aren't we?" Quin didn't remove herself from the roof right away; Her tiny foot managed to get stuck underneath the roof tile and she was carefully trying to wrestle it free without causing an unpleasant tumble down to the street below.
Ranok exhales. He had a feeling he would be busy trying to teach Iscattiva the dos and don't of the human world as long as he had the patience to do so. It was more Iscattiva's boundless enthusiasm that gave it away. Physical labor might build character, but anyone that did it wasn't exactly *excited* to do it. Juggling the golden scales in his palm, slightly, turning them over and over, he says, "Vell...dat's de schpirit, Hy guess? Maybe...Hy schould make sure hyu know to not eat de teapots, at least." He hears his (in his head) name from up above and looks sharply upwards. Quin was, nearly literally, the last person he expected to see hanging from the roofing, "Quin...? Vat de hell are hyu doink up dere?" Gray eyes glance sharply at her precarious position. He wasn't the only one that noticed. Draeta flares gently. If Quin would fall, Ranok would spring forward with startling celerity, to catch the dryad before she touched ground on tendrils of springy black.
Iscattiva momentarily falls into fond recollections of the taste of porcelain only to have them yanked away her by a call from above. Expecting a small (judging by the voice) dragon or other winged being to be found, at the sight of the peculiar girl the Gold can't help uttering her surprise in a snarling gasp. But the surprise doesn't stop there, as the young dragon's shifting abilities falter with her emotions, causing a layer of golden scales to crop up along her jaw line along with the nubs of umber spikes. "Oops." Giving a snort and emitting a small cloud of smoke, Iscattiva frowns in concentration to meld her features back into a human's before looking up again at the strange girl Ranok's so focused on. A friend, she can only assume.
Quinmyutiotu fidgets uncomfortably, but manages to properly remove her foot from the roof tile while responding to Ranok. "I'm doing the jumpings and the wanderings, you know?" She flashes a cheery grin. "Very fun times, I'm thinking. With the adventures and the walking on the house hats." An inky hand gently pats the 'house hat' she was previously stuck to, and just before climbing down to the ground below, Iscattiva's snarling gasp grabs her attention. The dryad's remaining eye darts in the woman's direction, and the sudden appearance of scales prompts an awestruck gasp to pass through the cockatrice mask. "Oooh~ Golden, scaley~" Her first encounter with a gold dragon was pleasant enough. Perhaps this one would be just as well, if her assumption that Iscattiva was a dragon happened to be correct. She immediately leaps from the roof to the ground, landing in an off-balanced crouch before standing upright. "You have the gold, Miss Lady. I'm liking them. Are you a Golden One?" She didn't wait for an answer. Her overly curious nature began to kick in. After sniffing at the air around the woman, Quin started to wander in a slow circle about her while the dryad looked her over.
Ranok short circuits any possible hostilities between the two, "Vell." Hands claps together for a moment and the clink of scales as the jostle against the other. "Qvin iz beink her kurious self. Iscattiva, dis iz Qvin. She's a goot friend. Hy trust her vith my life. Qvin, dis iz Iscattiva. She's a gold dragon, as hyu see. Ve vere chust talkink about gold. As a matter uf fact..." He reaches out to grab Quin's hand and deposit all the little round golden scales that Catti had tried to use as currency into the dryad's hand. "She vanted me to giff hyu dese. See? Felis, my nickname for her, iz a very nize gurl." A wink to Catti.
Iscattiva's mind is on the polar opposite of hostile, even without Ranok's interference. The dryad's curious staring is intensely matched by the dragon through slitted amber eyes, for she's never seen a creature quite like Quinmyutiotu, bedecked as she is in feathers, beads, cloth, and skull. At the introductions and the dryad's question, Iscattiva nods stiffly and takes a number of paces backwards into the center of the street. Once there, her form becomes enshrouded in a golden dust that shifts and expands before settling into the serpentine form of a Gold Dragon. Ignoring the squawks of alarm from the bank guards, Iscattiva brings her snout down toward Quinmyutiotu to give her a sniff and a toothy curl of scaled lips. "Well met, Qvin." She still hasn't fully mastered translating Ranok's accent. "As sir Ranok has said, I am Iscattiva, daughter of Rhavid. I suppose I am a Golden One, yes." The dragon snorts with amusement, the blast of warm air enough to roughly ruffle the two's clothing. "Are you a human as well?"
Quinmyutiotu is beginning to feel giddy. Another Golden One! The hand that Ranok grabs begins to tremble excitedly once she feels the golden scales drop into her hand. Naturally, she would treasure them. Just as she reaches to tug one of the quetzal tail feathers out of her headdress to give to Iscattiva, her hand freezes mid-tug and watches the dragon's transformation with wide-eyed wonder. She didn't understand why anybody would be making sounds of alarm at the presence of a gold dragon, or any dragon that wasn't causing any harm for that matter. It takes a very long time for Quin to manage to string together a coherent sentence. "..T-thaasa…You're a..G-gooolden~ So lovely, so pretty, so perfect~! Giant One, you have the very loveliest friend, I'm thinking." The dryad makes a very cautious approach, as if she were in the presence of royalty or some deity. Trembling hands present the tail feather to Iscattiva, and she smiles brightly. "I'm wanting to give you this present, Golden One. Is it okay? I could give you the drawings and the other things as well, sometime! I should be doing that right away. I'm one of the planty ones, you know? Tree friends~ Dryad!"
Ranok was, once again, finding himself laughing behind a hand. Quin really just made him do it, for some reason. It was unnaturally scary, really. "Ah, silly me. Qvin kould make friends vith de Dark Vun himself." Quin looked liable to explode with happiness, really. He gives Catti a sort of shrug and steps away to speak with the guards of the bank to get them to calm down, too. It was hard not to obey the smith when you were the hired help. He was authoritative *and* large, which really helped. He just hoped Quin's positive encounters didn't predispose her to thinking all dragons were friendly. That makes him frown, when the thought strikes him. He could see Quin dashing off to be killed by a red because she thought they were all friendly. Naturally, that meant he was going to do something about it.
Iscattiva's tentacle-like whiskers lift marginally at Quin's proclaimation. "You are of the Tree Folk?" The dragon thrums deep her in throat with delight. She knew plenty of the lore that surrounded the race, but they were notoriously elusive in the dragon-populated lands of her home and made all the more scarce by rumors that they were both incredibly lucky and impossibly delicious. Iscattiva herself has no desire to test the latter rumor, but she's thrilled nonetheless by Quinmyutiotu's presence--and her present! With surprising delicacy the Gold runs her snout along the feather's length before snort at the sensation and looking eagerly toward where Ranok is. "I do not see what the Blackscales have against non-dragonkind. I have been given a Nickname by you, and a feather by a Tree Folk! ...Perhaps they've never been given gifts, themselves?" It's a saddening thought, to the carefree youth.
Quinmyutiotu looked puzzled. "Dark One? There is a Dark One?" Her mind couldn't decide if Ranok meant a dark scaled dragon or a menacing shadow of some sort. Either way, she was bound to be curious by his explanation if one was given. Her attention returns to Iscattiva immediately afterward, to which she nods to eagerly. "I am! We've been told the stories and things about the dragon types of folk that can fly by our elders. I've always wanted to see and meet one!" She squealed with excitement. "Eeeehee~! I would be liking very much so if we could become the friendly types, yes yes. Very much so." Quin had pause to lift her skull mask for a moment to rub her cheeks. Smiling so much was beginning to hurt. Once the skull is back in place, she's able to speak again to Iscattiva and Ranok. "I never would have been thinking that I would have so many of the Friendly Ones. It's so wonderful~!"
Ranok looks a little dark. He knew what could cause such hatreds to arise. Personally speaking. It was hard to forget some nights. "Let's chust say dat a deficit uf gifts iz merely but vun drop in de ocean uf issues dat kan kause such grief." He rubs his face. At least Catti and Quin were hitting it off. That did simplify matters, at least. He says to Catti, "Chust a fair varnink. If hyu are her friend, hyu'll vake up to krates uf rundom gifts und dravinks in krates on you doorstep." That elicited a slight twitch of the mouth, from him. And then a larger one when he says to Quin, "De secret to tink vun's heart iz teapots und sveet tinks. If hyu mixed de tvo, she'd likely luv hyu forever." Explosive excitement, nothin'. It was just too damn entertaining to egg the cat-like dragon and the rubber ball like dryad on.
Iscattiva looks thrilled and then suddenly crestfallen. Mentions of gifts are the cause for the former, while the latter is a result of, "But I have no doorstep..." If she has no doorstep, how can she receive fantastic gifts? The dragon finds this very distressing and looks pleadingly toward the dryad while her tail lashes back and forth, coming ever closer to the windows of the bank and bakery as her anxiety grows. "Please, Tree Folk Qvin, may we still be 'friendlies' even if I lack a doorstep for crates?"
Quinmyutiotu frowned. She wasn't entirely sure if she fully understood what Ranok meant, but would remember the words and do her very best to understand later on. For a second time the dryad looked puzzled. "Teapots? I don't think I've been seeing th- Oh~! The houses for the water and the tea leaves. Yes, yes~ I'm knowing of these things very well. You can make them with the clay, you know." Unfortunately, Quin didn't know how to make sweet things. She could always buy them, though! "The sweet tasty foods sound like they are a very nice thing to be liking, Golden One~. They have the very nice smells, you know?" Iscattiva's expression causes yet another frown to take over Quin's face. An upset Golden One just wouldn't do. Immediately she shook her head. "Oh no no no, it's okay~ We can be friendlies without the doors and the steps, I'm pretty sure! I can be giving the gifts without the doors or the steps. I don't have a door or steps."
Ranok magnanimously steps in to relieve Catti's woes, " Felis, hennyddink sent to my doorstep vith you name on it vill be delivered to hyu. How does dat sound? Hy von' open it, no vorries. Pinkie Promise." He lifts up and wiggles the digit in question with a mild grin. Then a thought occurs to him, "Hyu know, Hy bet Qvin hes never hed a schticky bun. Perheps ve schould hall go for zum?" The reality is that he wanted the sticky buns he was originally going for, god dammit. If he had to buy three, such was the price for such heavenly taste.
Iscattiva looks relieved, bunched scales around her eyes relaxing and smoothing out, tail slowing to a standstill, and wings rustling as they settle. For all of five seconds, since Ranok has to go and make promises--what in the world is a pinky?--then invite them out for sticky buns. It isn't the dragon's intentions to crack some of the pavers in the street, but it simply can't be helped when she slams her forepaws down in a single exuberant bounce. The recently placated guards reach for the hilts of their weapons without hesitation, wary and watchful for the excitable saurian to continue, although Iscattiva seems to control herself beyond that single slip-up. "I would like that very much so, yes!" The remark is to both Ranok and Quinmyutiotu, although she continues to the dryad while following the taller man, "I will seek out a proper lair, with a doorstep, as swiftly as possible. I shall decorate it with your gifts as well." The feather being the first treasure the Gold's acquired and thus needing a place of honor.
"Sticky bun?" The dryad looked puzzled. "What is a sticky bun, Giant One?" The slamming of Iscattiva's forepaws startles Quin enough to make her practically jump out of her skin, but relaxes soon after. Anything gold was nice and wonderful. She had nothing to worry about. Unsure of where exactly one finds a sticky bun leaves Quin even more confused, so she follows Ranok and Iscattiva. Quin found herself smiling brightly again at the gold dragon. "You will?" She clapped her hands together excitedly. "Then I will begin making the tea pots and gifts and things for you~! It's all very exciting, isn't it? Yes yes~."
Ranok holds up his hands, "Felis, Hy'm gunna need hyu to return to human form. It's important hyu do. Ve kan' valk around de kity as a dragon. Frankly, Hy tink de only reason de guards hefn' kome for hyu iz me beink here. So, uh, let's not kause a scene, eh?" A winning smile. Once Catti went down to her smaller form, he'd lead them towards sticky heaven. "Now, gurls. Vat Hy'm about to schow hyu iz sacred. De SCHticky Bun Salesmen iz a location kept secret! Its powers are too great for normal hends. Hyu must svear to only use dem for goot...und deliciousness. Do hyu onderstund?" He sounded deadly serious.
Iscattiva shuffles her wings and regards Ranok thoughtfully for a moment. "I can manage better, for the smaller my altered shape, the better I can maintain it." By way of explanation, the dragon's shape is then enveloped in that same golden mist which begins to contract inward rapidly. When it appears as if it will shrink into nothing, it halts, a tiny sphere of shimmering dust that solidfies into a gold feathered songbird. Gold dragons are one of the few breeds capable of varied shifting, although they're limited by size and frequency based on age. Iscattiva herself can get no larger than a human, and has only been successful with a total of three shifts in a single day. Tiny wings fluttering madly, the dragon-turned-finch flies tight circles around the heads of Quin and Ranok like they're some cartoon character that's suffered severe head trauma from an anvil.
Quinmyutiotu gulped at the Ranok's description of how special the sticky buns were. These things had to have some kind of power to them that made them so special. She couldn't wait to see! "I understand, Giant One~!" was her enthusiastic reply, and the golden mist she could see out of the corner of her eye caused Quin to turn, with her eye growing wider at Iscattiva's transformation. "A birdie~! How lovely. I like the birds."
Iscattiva chirps her agreement to keeping secrets as well. At least, that's what can be assumed.
Ranok watches Catti's transformation with great interest. He hadn't known that dragons could take other forms then human. It made sense, of course, but he'd never seen it in operation. He heh'd, too, "Felis, Hy belieff hyu've chust superseded hall odders as Qvin's favorite person." Through the street they all walked, or flew, towards the fabled Sticky Bun Cart. When they arrived, it was fairly underwhelming, really. Just a small cart with a fairly dour fellow handing out sticky buns in wax bags or wrappers. He waits in line, which wasn't really horrid, given the time of day. And when the time for the order came, the man seemed to recognize Ranok, as the salesmen said, "Ah, Dezro. Regular bag 'o?" The smith nods, "Aye, Felipe." Gold exchanged, and then the tasty treat acquired. They smelled absolutely divine. They were still warm, and the caramel toppings was goopy and delicious. Ah, treasure. He'd hand one to Quin, who'd probably make a mess, and Catti, if she got hands to hold it with.
Iscattiva opts for plucking the bun from Ranok's hand with surprisingly strong little talons and flying to the nearest bench where it can be set down and pecked at with gusto. Sure, using hands might have been easier, but Iscattiva's father always warned her to never waste the last of her shifting energies on frivolous matters. 'You can never tell when a different shape will save your hide.' Besides, in this small a shape, the Gold can relish even more of the sweet treat than last time when it had been hardly a speck upon her saurian tongue.
Quinmyutiotu came to the conclusion that the small cart was merely an illusion right away. Unfortunately, Quin couldn't see through the illusion to see what magnificent thing might actually be present. Her nostrils flared to inhale as the unfamiliar but pleasant scent reached her. Once one of the sticky buns is given to her, she smiles at Ranok. "Thank you~" An unsure expression takes over her face. What did she do with it now? "Giant One," she asks, "Am I supposed to be using the chomping teeth on this?" She glanced over at Iscattiva, and seeing her peck at her sticky bun prompts Quin to act similarly. The cockatrice skull covering her face is carefully propped up by the vines in her hair, and the dryad takes a hesitant nibble of the sticky bun. Judging by the large bite she immediately takes afterward, it's safe to say that Quin is now hooked on the delicious treat.
Ranok was an absolutely terrible rolemodel. He has now gotten two people hooked on the sticky buns. Three, if you counted Ty. But did he care? No sir. He could use them as leverage now. He truly was evil, wasn't he? He was biting his own delicious, warm and gooy sticky bun and enjoying it. "Mm. So vorth it."
Iscattiva wholeheartedly agrees, a fact made truth by the alarming speed with which she devours her treat, storing it away Sven knows where considering the thing is larger than the shape she occupies. That's one draconic secret she's keeping to herself. Even if she did want to spill the beans, her beak is plastered shut devilishly sticky caramel at the moment and she can merely offer stifled cheeps.
Quinmyutiotu practically inhaled the rest of her sticky bun, and wasn't entirely sure what to do with her fingers. It reminds her of honey. She sticks and unsticks her fingers together several times, then glances over at Ranok for help. Her head wobbles in an odd manner in order to knock the cockatrice mask back into place so the dryad can speak again. "Am I supposed to stay stuck this way now? This is the stickiest, like the bee honey!"
Ranok was laughing, completely. The sight of a sticky bird and a sticky dryad was just too much, it seems. He was positively in stitches. It takes him a few minutes to recover. He reaches out to assist Quin, one hand holding the half eaten sticky bun, "No...heheheh.. No. Hyu kan lick de schtuff off, see?" He demonstrates with his own fingers. Every now and again he chuckles.
Iscattiva frees her beak with a powerful wrench and cheeps in victory. Take that, fiendish sugar! Fluttering into the air then for fear of sticky talons gluing her to the bench, the Gold suddenly swoops toward Quin, scoops up the feather in her claws, gives Ranok a quick loop around his fancy hat, and abruptly flies off. More than likely, she's off on a search for a lair with a doorstep, or possibly a bath. Whichever it is, Iscattiva has made a hasty retreat with a simple chirp as farewell.
Quinmyutiotu feels very silly for not thinking of that in the first place. She immediately starts licking away the remains of the sticky bun. Once finished, she frowns slightly at Iscattiva's departure. "Will I be able to see the Golden One again soon, Giant One? I think I'd like that very much."
Ranok finishes off his own sticky bun, "Vell, vy not send her a letter? Hy promise Hy'll deliver it if hyu kan' find hennyone else. Giff her vun uf you Qvin letters! It vill make her heppy. Or, send her a gift. Hy'm sure she'd luv to see hyu again. Maybe hyu kan go flyink togedder?"