RP:Where's Skylei?
Part of the Surface Tension Arc
Synopsis: Skylei's been missing for nearly a month now, and her friends Hildegarde and Josleen are concerned! They discuss Skylei's whereabouts and formulate a plan to locate, and if necessary rescue, the temperamental half elf.
Frostmaw Tavern
Josleen barely opens the door as she slips into the tavern draped in far too many layers of ultra-feminine, middle class winter wear: floral hat, red gloves, two scarves (floral, of course), red coat (over what must be at least two sweaters), tights on tights on tights, and boots that straddle the line between fashion and practicality. Despite the layers, the half elf shivers her way over to Drargon, with whom she has a warm acquaintance. It takes him a second to remember her face as the one belonging to the volunteer nurse during the war who was all heart and no skill. Josleen did more than shoddy medical care, but her other involvement has never been publicized. “Afternoon, Drargon. It warms me to see your handsome face again.” One truth, one lie, take a guess. “Have you seen Skylei recently?”
Hildegarde had since recovered from her injuries that had been inflicted upon her during her participation in the tournament of warriors, leaving her with a yearning to escape from the confines of the fort and be amongst the people once again. No sooner had she arrived in the tavern did she hear Josleen’s familiar feminine voice, inquiring after the half-elf who they had both grown rather fond of. Drargon could only offer a grim shake of his head before he was serving the next waiting patron. “Lady Josleen,” the knight offered in greeting to the woman, “you ask after Skylei. I have not seen her here for some time now, which is most unusual given her involvement with the local elven council.”
Josleen turns abruptly towards Hildegarde’s voice and chirps, “Dame Hildegarde!” She glides over, arms opening as if to embrace the steward, but stops just short of the hug. Hildegarde’s discomfort with such displays is well recalled. Air hug it is, with air kisses on both cheeks of course — though considering Hildegarde’s height it’s more like shoulder air kisses. As Hildegarde explains that Skylei has been involved with the elven council, Josleen’s smile falters. “The Council?” Lips purse tightly in a straight, humorless line. Without touching Hildegarde, she attempts to shepherd Hildegarde away from the bar and occupied tables, eying Ynhaldei and Orikahn suspiciously in the process. Her small frame has been made shapeless by far too many layers of clothing and pockets sewn into the interior (to frustrate thieves), and strikes a comical counterpoint to Hildegarde’s tall, lean frame. “I told her not to get involved in the elf-drow war,” she hisses between clenched teeth.
Hildegarde would likely accept the hug, had they been in more private circumstances. After all, it had been quite some time since she had seen Josleen. Perhaps only a little bit after Eliason’s rescue from the exiled giants? Who can say. “You needn’t call me ‘dame’, I’m certainly not one of those,” she gently protested, as she always protested. Yet the Steward allows herself to be gently led away from the bar by Josleen, towards a little privacy where they might talk a little more freely. Not that the woman was particularly worried about being overheard, she was generally quite blunt and honest with everything she had to say. “I am not certain about her overall involvement, Josleen, but… yes, she assisted the council. Is that not expected of her, scholar that she is?”
Josleen grins when Hildegarde instructs her for the 123456789098765th time not to call her ‘dame.’ Oh but Josleen will, forever, for the kicks. Hildegarde’s reasoning as to why Skylei is a natural fit as council counsel prompts Josleen to sigh exasperatedly. She nearly cuts of Hildegarde, breaking her usually polite stride. Skylei’s disappearance and her involvement with the council, must really niggle at some deep-seated concern. “Sure, but let’s be frank.” Because she is so caught up in Skylei’s disappearance, the bard doesn’t notice how quickly her body grows hot. The layers of clothing, the fire, the building. She begins to sweat. Her face turns ruddy. “Skylei isn’t the type of scholar to sit idly by. She advises with words only to buy herself enough time to notch her bow and then advise with a sharp arrow. Yes, she likes books and academic study, but I know her well enough to know she also likes a good fight. Have you ever seen her without a fresh injury?” She tugs her brows upwards as if she just argued a brilliant case that cannot be refuted. “Oh good Sven, it’s hot in here, isn’t it? Are you hot? Is it just me?” She tugs on her dual scarves.
Hildegarde offered an almost exasperated sigh, “But that does not mean Skylei is directly involved either,” she said gently before shaking her head briefly. “Yet I do agree with you, Skylei as just as likely to notch an arrow to her bow as she is to record the events of the world around her. So, yes, let’s say she’s involved in the war. If she isn’t here and has not been sighted for some time… well, I would assume she’s in Sage? Or perhaps held prisoner…” The woman said a little more thoughtfully, before suddenly contemplating the temperature of the tavern. “Perhaps if you remove some layers,” she suggested, before puffing out a thin veil of frost above Josleen’s head so it may delicately fall over her and grant some relief from the heat.
Josleen turns her face up to the frost and pulls on her scarves to let it cool mist fall upon her neck. “Thank you,” she pants. “It’s so warm.” Another rough exhale. She begins to peel off scarves, her hat, gloves, coat, and outer sweater as she speaks. Beneath that puff of fabric is an actual woman.“I saw her about a month ago. Maybe three weeks?” She signals to a passing waitress without missing a beat. “Water. With ice, please.” Then slides back into her conversation with Hildegarde seamlessly. “We spoke of the war very briefly. I asked her to stay out of it for the hundredth time. She told me she is not involved, but she did…” She sweeps her bangs behind an ear and glances off to the side, imitating Skylei. “Do you know what I am talking about? The tic she does when she lies. I didn’t press the issue, because that always leads to an argument with her. I love her like a sister, but loooord.” She lets out a low whistle and lifts her brows in a conspiratorial manner.
Hildegarde always found it difficult to keep up with the manner in which Josleen liked to converse. The woman could speak at such a quick pace, in such an elaborate and whimsical manner that the knight had no hope of even copying it if she wished to. “So. We can assume Skylei is involved in the war,” she said firmly, “but again, we do not know what has become of her and I am loath to assume the worst,” she said. As Varn enters the tavern, the knight’s attention moves to him for a brief moment and she offers him only a nod as not to disturb his business and soon his meditative state.
Josleen casts a judgmental, sideways glance at the meditating giant. The bard lacks a spiritual sensibility. But she isn’t frightened, for she has haunted Frostmaw many times and has come across a colorful cast of characters. Returning her attention to Hildegarde, she continues their main conversation, and all the corollary topics as well. “The council trusts you, do they not? Perhaps you could speak to them. They may know. whe-” The waitress delivers Josleen’s glass of water. “Ah thank you, bless your heart.” She takes a quick sip, dives back in to the main conversation, “...know where she is. Hopefully on a mission of some sort.” She drops into the nearest seat, finally feeling the arduous trek in her feet and hips. Her imagination grasps at dark images of a maimed or imprisoned Skylei, or worse. She shakes her head to rid herself of them. Her hand rubs against her collarbone in her usual nervous tic. “I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll be staying in Frostmaw until she’s found, of course. So that when we find her, I can give her a piece of my mind.” Her joke lacks conviction. The bard doesn’t even fool herself; she’s worried.
Hildegarde is not one to lie, even though it might help allay Josleen’s concerns. No, the knight has always been brutally honest but she often tried to soften the blow of her words. “Josleen…” the knight began, before sighing gently. “The council trusts me, yes, and the council know of me, but--” she stops as the waitress draws near, lapsing into silence once again until the girl has passed. “But the council is weak. A member or two is missing, Josleen, apparently taken by the drow if rumours and supposed reports are to be believed. The council will care more for those who they have lost than any scholar, no matter how keen she is to lift her bow and fight for the cause. I urge you, Josleen, to stay in Frostmaw and not seek Skylei out. You know she would be bereft if something were to happen to you. You can do more good here than searching for Skylei in Sage.” The Silver sighed softly, “I know it sounds cruel, but you know this is not my intention. We will find Skylei and we will find her in good health.”
Josleen‘s eyes widen as Hildegarde reveals the two kidnappings that have already taken place, and the council’s bias in saving their own kind. Skylei is, after all, only a half elf. “...If the council won’t do anything… and…” She licks her lips, sips her water, tries again. “You don’t sound cruel. I have no delusions about my skills and limitations, but you’re right that I would take a risk and look for her myself if no better option were afforded to me. But thankfully, I have you, don’t I? You are much more capable than I am with this sort of thing, and I trust you. I know you’ll do as much as I would do to find her.” She glances around the tavern in search of any elves, but finds only frost giants at the moment. “I’ll stay in Frostmaw and do what I can from here. Ask questions and all that. Does she still have a room in the fort?” Aela’s former room, but mentioning that seems cruel. Let the dead rest in peace, their memories distant and less painful. “I can search through her things for clues.” Deja vu. It wouldn’t be the first time Josleen picks through Skylei’s belongings to find the missing half elf.
Hildegarde nodded along as Josleen spoke of having her on hand to help, not wishing to point out Frostmaw’s lack of assistance thus far and unwillingness to throw itself back into a war in support of the elves. “I will do what I can,” she promised, though it may not be much, she would definitely lend a hand where and when she could. “I have not seen her at the fort since she and I had a bit of a falling out… or estrangement. I don’t know if she still uses the room, but I would assume that she does. It would be useful, of course, to use it to store her belongings and sleep there in the warmth. You are welcome to examine it, if you wish.”
Josleen cants her head to the side in confusion. Skylei had vaguely mentioned a disagreement, but Hildegarde’s reference makes it seem as if Skylei downplayed the severity of the dispute. “A falling out? Why so?” She blurts quickly before Hildegarde can answer, “I don’t mean to pry. It may help me better understand her whereabouts.” Suuuure.
Hildegarde sighed deeply as Josleen posed her question. It was not a simple one. “I killed Tyler,” she confessed, “and she was already upset that I knew of him being alive before she did. Obviously, killing him was not what I wished to do but he left me with no other choice.”
Josleen immediately slaps her forehead. Oops. *That* falling out. Skylei is such a hot-head you can never be sure what’s got her worked up this time, but surely Josleen could have guessed the dragon was referring to the big kahuna of Skylei woes. “I’m sorry, I should have known and not asked you to repeat it. For what it’s worth, I think you did what had to be done and think no less of you for it.” The bard offers what she hopes is an encouraging smile, but few smiles can pierce a subject as loaded and heavy as this one. “I should go to the fort before it gets dark and see what I can find. Thank you again, Hildegarde.”
Hildegarde waved her hand in a pacifying manner, “You needn’t apologise. An honest question is deserving of an honest answer, no matter how dark it may be,” she said softly. Yet as Josleen states she had best leave soon, the knight rises from her seat so she might afford Josleen the proper respects as befits a lady of her station and manner (and tendency to be over the top at times though in a pleasant manner), “It has been my pleasure, m’lady.”
Josleen rises and curtsies to the steward. “It has been my pleasure as well, Dame Hildegarde.” She grins cheekily, knowing full well she doesn’t need to address the dragon as dame. It takes her a full minute to drape herself again in far too many layers. She tips the waitress with Ezekiel’s money, and takes her leave.