Posted on: 2016-06-30 09:02:58 UTC
He spun around, eyes darting across the crowd. He just saw a bunch of shifting arms and legs, to be honest.
He spun around, eyes darting across the crowd. He just saw a bunch of shifting arms and legs, to be honest.
It was fortunate indeed her brother had become a prodigy of magic, Lady Iximaz thought to herself as she stepped onto the portal circle he'd scribed on the floor of his tower. He himself was too busy for the festivities going on in Borrd, but he'd agreed to transport her there for the day.
She shut her eyes, and when she opened them, she was standing in a crowded city square, filled with food vendors and merchants hawking their wares; a gaggle of street performers were putting on a show near the fountain; down the street, she could see people dancing to the music of bagpipes. Despite her sudden entrance, not many people paid her any mind; magic transport wasn't totally unheard of, after all, and clad in her light linen shirt and loose breeches, she blended in with the rest of the festival-goers.
She smiled and set off, wondering if she would see any friendly faces among the crowd.
The bald man wearing a worn-out gambeson and blue breeches gestured as the nearest vendor and tossed them a coin from the pouch strapped to his side. He then took one of the glasses brought to him and emptied it with one powerful swig. The Merchant King wasn't interested as much in festivities as he was in observing potential clients. It was one of his personal hobbies; some would simply call it 'being nosy', but Cipher preferred calling it 'being well-informed'.
With a full glass in hand, the merchant took a stroll between vendors and stalls, eager to hear more news he could later bargain with.
((If you folks ever need a proof that my RP skills suck... Well, here you go.))
The wild man hadn't been in town for a long while. Things had gotten pretty chaotic in the recent months, and he'd largely stayed away from it all, preferring to take up residence with the animals and monsters until things had calmed down. He hadn't expected a so-called 'festival', though, and the celebrations were definitely new to him.
Given how packed the crowds and vending stalls were, Skaer'morys couldn't take any of his larger monsters with him - a fact which had saddened Lapis, who had been dying to go. He'd thought about letting the sea serpent play in one of the fountains, but she had grown quite enormous as of late, and getting her into the festival in the first place would be too much of a challenge to be worth anything. Rayner and E.V.L. opted out of coming despite being a good deal smaller, since they had outright stated that they weren't good with crowds, and Rashida? She couldn't possibly care less.
So Skaer'morys had elected to bring the remaining four: Falchion, Ripper, Sarah, and Cupid. Sarah, being the largest, had to perch on a rooftop and watch from a distance, but that was because he'd used the Roc to fly here in the first place. Meanwhile, Falchion and Ripper strutted on either side of their master, and Cupid was perched on his shoulder.
"I must be honest... This is amazing," said Skaer'morys.
"I know, right?" replied Falchion. "I told you coming back here was a good idea. Look at all the pretty, shiny things! I like shiny things..."
"You do realize, however, that we'll all be getting hungry before long? I could use something to eat myself."
"Peep! You promised to bring something back for Sarah, though!" Cupid fluffed his white feathers. "Shouldn't we worry about that first in case she decides to swoop down and carry off one of the food carts, pii~?"
"Don't worry, we'll take care of that in due course," said Falchion. "And that goes for Ripper, too. Master doesn't want him attacking any pets around here. The wild man already draws a slight bit of suspicion, and we don't want any more."
"No promises," the raptor replied, shrugging his clawed wings. "Though I'd go after one of the butcher stalls instead. Probably steal a chicken or two as well, just to be safe."
Skaer'morys glared at him. "Not. Helping."
A young woman in green and blue waved cheerfully at the wild man from the door to a bookshop. She only wore her armor while she was questing, and had left the Blades of Violet Roses locked up at home for the festival. She still carried Chris and her shield, of course, and Miguel floated a little above her head like a star. "And your birds, too, of course. They're looking lovely today."
"Hi, Falchion!" Miguel added. "Do you remember me? I may have grown a little taller since we worked together."
"Miguel, no one can tell if you're any bigger than you were without getting too close to me for comfort," eatpraylove pointed out.
"It's good to see you again," he replied as he and his pets walked over to her. "And it's nice to see Miguel as well. I heard that he decided to stay with you after all, congratulations."
"I'll take your word for it," Falchion said to Miguel. "Alas, I haven't been taken out hunting for at least a year. Master said I got overworked and he had to take me off duty for a while."
"I can promise, though, that he'll be back in business as soon as possible," Skaer'morys chuckled. "I fear he may soon be growing soft. At least on the inside."
"Anyway... Are the Blades of Violet Rose still in good condition? I still remember borrowing them a while ago to deal with a pair of Marizu from Cupid's homeland..."
"Because me and a giant winged cat weren't enough, peep~?" the caladrius asked skeptically.
"Hey, I needed the extra bite. And she gave me the permission to use them, just in case. And you were the one who flew them back to her place, don't forget that."
"They're losing some of their sheen, but it could be just from going unused while I try to enter the Kar'eer Forest. It's the most maddening thing! The paths look like I should be able to use them, but every time I try, they disappear or the trees block their way!"
"A winged cat?" asked Miguel. "My lady never mentioned anything about you having a Sphinx, sir."
He had just arrived at the festival, and wasn't still sure about what he would like to do, if only because he didn't know so many people here. His outfit wasn't so festive too, a rather old gambeson with a cuirass and a surcoat displaying a deployed eagle over a sword crossed with a pen and a twenty-faced dice, and greaves, vambraces and gauntlets looking like they all had been picked up from a different set of armor, and its weapon at his side. One disadvantage of wandering, this inability to have nice clothes handy.
The young man just shrugged. He could still enjoy himself a bit here, and hopefully nobody would mind the armor of some newly-arrived guest. Even if he didn't mind being left alone, conversation could always be enjoyable.
((Hope it will go alright here.))
Lady Iximaz raised a hand in greeting when she saw the new knight. He looked rather uncomfortably overdressed, but then, who was she to judge someone for what they wore? "How are you faring on this afternoon?"
((Alleb informed me her computer is out of commission for now after her cat spilled water on it, and has given her blessing to RP with somebody else in the meantime. waves))
Hardric greeted a bit quickly with a bow of his head the baronness who, getting away from a fod vendor. "I just arrived here. That would explain why I'm looking like this." He gestured at his own armor. "Not having his own permanent residence doesn't help when you want to keep your possessions safe, but that's a disadvantage I accepted a long time ago. Now, this festival look pretty entertaining, and it's surely a better place than the Council. The abscence of Baron Phobos alone assures this. I cannot believe no Baron had this idea sooner."
((Aw, very though luck. Hope it will be back soon, and not for too much of a cost.))
"you are always welcome at Keep De'endee whenever you wish," Lady Iximaz said, smiling. "And you are quite right; I couldn't leave the meeting chambers quickly enough once the Council had ended. Some days I wish I had never been made a baron."
"I always like when my travels lead me to your keep both for your hospitality and the sum of knowledge your library contains about Arpying. You would be hard-pressed to find such a complete recollection of the works of Gaigacks and Arrenson in Weab, and I'm not even talking about the other styles of this art." His face then went more serious. "However, I think it's a good thing you are a baron, even if I could see how hard the task can be at the Council. Plort would go to ruin of the only barons speaking up at the Council were like Phobos or Huinesoron. Although I'm curious. Is he really like the popuplar pieces depict him? If he was so devious, I doubt he would have missed this Council."
Lady Iximaz tilted her head. "Baron Huinesoron is... an interesting man. While I am unsure as to his motives, I do trust him, for what it's worth. He was the one who knighted me several years back and later suggested I be made a baron, after all." Feeling slightly overheated in the sun, she rolled up her sleeves, revealing a script tattoo on her inner right forearm bearing her motto: Quia scribo, libera sum. "As for Baron Phobos... While I do think he is also a good man, I trust him as far as I could throw him. Less, really. His recent attempt to seize power has made me nervous." She smiled. "But come, let us not speak of such things during a festival! How have you been, my friend?"
"Plort is such a wnderful place, and traveling here is a most wonderful experience. Except when Green Ads decided to invade the place. These beasts are most foul indeed," Sir Hardric then shook his head. "But let's not talk about them here, or about crusades against Marizu for that matter. What thing to do would you suggest to do in this festival? And could you also tell me where I could find a plave where I could let my armor before I'm completely cooked? I used to see a far less hot weather on the roads.
"I left my arms and armor behind at my castle when I came here, save for my belt knife. Are you not staying at an inn of some sort? Could you perchance leave your belongings there?" Iximaz looked around and her eyes widened when she saw a trio of street performers, dressed in red and black, juggling flaming torches. "Ooh, fire-eaters! I've been looking forward to watching them perform!"
"Like I said, I only arrived here a few time ago, and I'm not exactly familiar with tis city, so I'm not sure about the inn I should go. That would be why I was asking for your opinion on that matter. Is there any inn you would recommend to me?" He then looed at the direction the lady looked with such glee, and saw the fire-eaters. "Ah. That's quite the spectacle indeed. If anything, the fact it's not magic makes it more impressive."
"I stayed there myself, the first few days after I arrived in Plort," Lady Iximaz said. She pointed down one of the streets. "It's just that way, then take the second left, and it should be a ways down that street on your right-hand side. I'm sure the fire-eaters will still be performing when you get back should you decide to go."
"I think I will go then. This armor and my other belngings aren't exactly getting lighter. Would you mind to resume this conversation once I'm back from this place?"
Lady Iximaz returned the bow. "I shall await your return here."
He was back a moment later, in the nick of time for avoiding any suspiscion of getting lost on his way back. He now wore only his traveling clothes, although his emblazoned surcoat and his blade were still there. He also had a book fastened on his baldric. "Did I miss anything?" he said, panting slightly.
"The fire-eaters started off with some knife juggling, and now I think they're warming the crowd up. Do pardon my wordplay," Lady Iximaz added, a smile on her face.
"All of them as gracious as a flying drunk duck." He then watched the knife juggling. "I already said this, but what people can d with some training can really end up more imressive than most of the magic tricks a magician could do. I'd have already lost several of my fingers if I was doing this."
((But what would be the best way for RPing this ellipsis?))
The young man- nay, the boy, for he had not yet passed the age which marked adulthood in his homeland- stood off by himself, and was clad in a deep blue tunic with black on edges of the sleeves, the collar, and the bottom, and a pair of breeches with the reverse pattern. He was bewildered by the strange vibrancy of this place, the bright colors, the loud music, the odd devices, and the incredibly curious customs. He looked around, and noted the cheerfulness of all the others attending the festivities. He desired to approach them, but did not, fearing his ignorance would lead to a disastrous misstep.
((Granz the Ice Cream Monarch here! I guess this is how OOC text is marked? Is this too much? Too little? Urple? And would those be the hems? Sorry for the question barrage- well, technically it's only three questions, but there are five question marks-, I'm pretty new to the whole Role-Playing thing, and also have no clue how costumes work.))
His name was Jan Stockins, and he was a businessman. A man of business. Who performed his business in a uniquely mannish way, not that he had any issues with doing it in a womannish way, it was just that he, Jan Stockins, personally preferred the 'mannish' method of doing his things, said things generally relating to business. Mannish business. And was he ready for business. Unfortunately, his body was thoroughly unsuited for such conditions, being that of a much taller person, compressed into the short, square-shouldered, bulge-bellied thing he was. There was a river of lower-bodies for him to wade through, but he wasn't deterred. Business awaited. The boy was in some lonely corner, off by the edges of the crowd, gazing in. He was wearing deep blue. The only people, in Stockins' experience, who wore deep blue were people who could afford to crush up gems for their clothing, afford to buy clothing coloured with crushed up gems, or were brave enough to steal from people who wore clothing coloured by crushed up gems. Stockins was quite fond of all three. He jiggled his bag, feeling the familiar, colossal weight pressing against his back. It'd probably break right through, if he tripped over some foot in that crowd. He decided to not do that.
A good few minutes of pressing past legs, disturbing conversations, knocking people around, and hasty apologising, and he had finally emerged, clutching his flat cap. He wore his best grin, a large, lopsided thing, and released the hat onto his head. 'G'morning, mate. Mind if I ask about, er,' He rubbed his hands together, hoping he wasn't being creepy. 'That blue dress'f yours? Very expensive looking, is all, and,' He chuckled lightly. 'I pay attention to that, y'know?' He really hoped he wasn't being creepy.
((Nah, you're doing alright. Well, I hope you are. I know as much about costumes as I know about quantum physics, which is most definitely not bragging. If it makes everything feel better, I probably know even less about roleplaying. We can be newbies-in-arms.))
Or, well, he had heard him approach, but had assumed that he was going somewhere else. He eyed the man- or, well, it appeared to be a man. The frame was that of a man, but for all he knew, it could be a pile of clothes with a face attached. He had seen stranger things.
Though nervous, Alexander did his best not to shrink into himself, as he would normally have done. He's just being kind, he told himself. There is no ill intent here
"I purchased it in the land known as the Confederation of An-Emay. It's quite common for people to dress in even more spectacular garb in some regions," he replied.
((I don't think this shatters Plort canon. It is a medieval world, but, well... Just look at the apparel of anybody appearing in most of the more... let's say fantastic anime, and tell me that the equivalent regions wouldn't be ridiculously colorful. And good! This should be interesting.))
It perked back up into that crooked smile he previously wore almost instantly. He wasn't called 'Lawfen' Stockins for frowning. More the opposite, really. He supposed it wasn't too much of a shame the fellow wasn't rich. Heaps of people weren't rich, Stockins included. It was what made the position so enticing, after all.
'Y'know, that'd explain it, that would. Ah, bugger me.' An eyebrow was raised. 'Y'travel much, mate? Awful far, An-Emay is. Y'seem a bit young, is all. Not that I judge, 'course. Popped off on my own, supple-skinned bugger of fifteen, I did. Never gone too far into An-Emay, though, as you'd reckon. Bit, er, loud, for my tastes.'
"They are quite... enthusiastic, I will admit, but their devotion to their friends is admirable. But, yes, I have done a fair bit of traveling, I guess. I learned to do so at my mother's knee, for she taught me all the joys this world had to offer. Recently, I've been exploring on my own, and I've been to Air'ihpotre and the Viceregency of Yung-Wisods, and I've travelled with the Bronee. What of your travels? You say you began at a young age. Where have you been?" the boy asked.
''Cept synovial joints. Articulation, and all. Certainly not joy, least.' He lifted his cap, scratching his head. 'Anyway, I've been all over the bloody place. World's my home, my dad always said, which is bollocks, in my opinion, 'cause bears don't go maulin' you in any half-decent home. Been in,' He rubbed a chin in consideration.
'Vidya Gaym, for a time, Pokhemmon in my early days, faffed 'round Somath-Aful, knocked around Prashette, recently, lovely people there, ought to mention,' He inhaled, 'Bits of Lotor, barest edges of Air'ihpotre, got lost at sea for a couple weeks, 'f that counts, er,' He paused, thinking further.
'Been places, is all I'm sayin',' His grin widening, somehow. 'Travelin' merchant ent much use if he doesn't travel, eh? Oy, haven't introduced myself, have I?' He stopped again, seriously considering this possibility. 'Nah, haven't.' He extended an arm. 'Jan, son to Stockins. Who was mauled by a bear. Mates call me 'Lawfen' Stockins, for, er,' He shrugged, explanation descending into a quaint chuckle.
((I'd add more, but I don't know their Plort equivalents, and I don't trust myself to add them and not break something along the line. Been places, is all I'm sayin')
After the man had finished, he said, "I apologize for my rudeness in interrupting you, but you have a rather amusing way of describing even the worst events. I should introduce myself as well. My name is Alexander, and I am of the house of Nezayel, though most find it simpler to call me Alex. You say you have been to Pokhemmon? I have as well, and the creatures that inhabit that land are marvelous. Which cities have you been to?
((A note here: Granz the Ice Cream Monarch comes from: A) Szayel Aporro Granz (I'm pretty sure there's a space between Szayel and Aporro, though I'm not sure because I've only heard it spoken, I haven't seen the relevant pages of the original version of canon.), B) Neopolitan, from RWBY, because she beats people up with an umbrella and that's just awesome, and C) the Monarch archetype of Yu-Gi-Oh. Nezayel is a combination of the first two, and the last one... well, I'm not even a knight yet, so I can't really be a monarch. Also, since there are different regions in Pokemon, I feel like in their Plort equivalent, there is basically one city that contains most of the stuff, like the Gyms and the Pokemon Centers and Marts, and at the center is a citadel in which live the E4 and the Champion. People go out into the surrounding countryside to train, but the region is usually referred to by the name of the city. If this doesn't follow Plort canon, ignore it, I just couldn't find the structure of Pokhemmon on the wiki.))
Memories flooded through Stockins' head, banging a nostalgic grin onto his face. 'Did a whole circuit of that place, 'f I recall. Couldn't bring myself to leave, y'know? Visited practically every city, there. Don't mean much now, 'course, what with all those newer cities. Been meanin' to come back to that place. Specially... whatsitcalled, Hon? Ho-in? Howen?' He shrugged. 'Y'get what I mean. Ent been to the newer cities. Ones made after that Sinouh - can scarcely recall their names. Tell me, mate,' He leant in for effect. The effect was promptly ruined when he stood on his toes.
'What've I missed?'
((I suppose if Middle-Earth is misspelt, the Pokemon [don't hurt me for not including the super spooky 'e'] regions ought to be, too.))
Alex thought for a moment. "Well, when it comes to cities, you missed the renovations they did in Ja-To. You also missed the construction both Old and New Onava, and then they built Kelas, and there was the renovation of Old Howen. I should mention that I have seen neither New Onava nor the renovations of Old Howen, nor did I know Con-To or Ja-To before their renovations. Currently, the city of El-oela is under construction on an island in the middle of a lake. You missed many new Mons, and they finally decided to give new practitioners of Mons a Fire Mon who did not acquire the Fighting Element in its later stages. They had one of those in Onava, but decided to hand out one who acquired the Psychic Element in Kelas. They've discovered a new Element, known as Fairy. It deals extra damage to and is immune to the powerful Dragon Element, deals extra damage to and resists the Dark and Fighting Elements, resists the Bug Element, deals less damage to the Fire Element, and deals less damage to and is vulnerable to the Poison and Steel Elements. They've begun to include clothing shops in the cities, and Pokhemmon Infirmaries and Markets are now located in the same building. Let's see what else..." The boy paused, trying to recall more details about the new lands. A thought struck him, and he inquired, "Oh! Before I forget, have you been to New Sinouh?"
((So, basically, a city gets renovated when a new game is released with the same plot, like Silver and Soulsilver, but a new city, known as New X, is built whenever a new game is released in the same region, but a different plot, and the previous city is declared Old X, such as in Black and Black 2. I decided to call Platinum New Sinouh because of the additions to the plot at the end. It's mostly like Old Sinouh, but with a few extra locations at the edges of the city. Nah, in casual stuff, the é isn't required, I think.))
Stockins, for a few seconds, felt terribly old. Walking sticks and odd smells, and patronising grandchildren loomed over him like impending tidal waves. 'Fairies? Pacifist starter fire-mons? clothing shops?'
He shook his head. 'Life's passin' me by, honestly.' As he spoke, a sprightly, thin-limbed fellow dressed in the sort of garish colours he'd expect to be exploding all over An-Emay flipped through the crowd like an out of control cartwheel, landed perfectly, grabbed a torch from a nearby brazier, swallowed the flaming bit, and pulled the smoking stick from his mouth, smiling nobly at the crowd as if he hadn't just cartwheeled through them before eating the fire off a nearby torch.
Jan 'Lawfen' Stockins didn't catch a glimpse of it.
'Suppose it's 'cause I keep wastin' my time talkin' about how it's passin' me by,' He considered, life passing him by in the background, to the applause of the crowd. 'Y'acquainted with Sumralese? Suppose not. Haven't been to this festival myself, honest. Cheerful, innit?'
Then he returned his attention to the conversation. "I admit, the teachings of those in Moh-vie are not my area of expertise. I simply haven't ever been enchanted with them as I have been with the teachings of, say, Jaikaiar. However, this festival is quite cheerful, and I do enjoy everything. The fire-eaters are amazing, the food will doubtless be wonderful, and the conversation is quite excellent. If you feel life has been passing you by, you might turn your attention to the performances of the fire-eaters. They appear to be starting now."
He spun around, eyes darting across the crowd. He just saw a bunch of shifting arms and legs, to be honest.
Surely there was some way to allow his companion to see over the crowd. Then, he smiled. "Lawfen, you wouldn't happen to have any chalk, would you?"
Stockins wasn't certain if he had chalk. He was, however, certain that he had many pockets, many of which were slightly heavy.
'Don't doubt it,' He said, rummaging through legions of the things. His hands went all over, up, down, left, right. His rags rustled like flimsy trees in the wind.
'Miracle ointment,' He muttered, replacing the flask. 'Snake oil,' He murmured, replacing the bottle. 'Liquid dishonesty,' He grunted, replacing the waterskin. 'Actual captured spirit of a lawyer,' He mumbled, glancing at the dark, smoke-filled jar. A pair of very eye-looking objects looked at him from within. Stockins glared back, and replaced in his pocket.
'Chalk!' He exclaimed, holding the dusty, slightly dirty stick of chalk out for Alex. 'Y'can have it free. Chalk market's bloody crashin', these days. Chalk salesmen crouched in dirty corners, livin' in boxes. Tragic. Ought to have variety in your wares, y'know?'
((Never seen fire-eaters. Probably ought to do some of that old research stuff, eh?))
Alex was a little surprised by the variety of items pulled from Lawfen's pockets, especially the captured soul of the lawyer, but ignored it in favor of executing his plan. He took the chalk and then said, "Stand here, please," pointing to a spot on the ground. He then got to his knees and began to draw.
((Alright, it should be clear what I'm doing by now. If it's not allowed by The Rules, then, well, this just won't work. If it is, then it will. I would think this type of transmutation would be fairly simple, as it's just moving the surface I'm drawing upon, basically. I could probably do it. It's not like making a chair out of rock.))
He left a few coins at every stall, and walked away with each one with a full trencher. By the time he had reached the next one, the food was gone.
The man wore a green tunic; emblazoned on the front was a silver scorpion, quartered by music notes, identifying him to anyone who knew his heraldry: Ser Dylan Read, Knight of the Void.
Ser Dylan looked around uncertainly; he'd mainly come for the food, and was not terribly fluent in the things other knights called "people skills." Every so often, he'd see a face he recognized, but his uncertainty prevented him from approaching.
((Heyo, it's Voyd. And yeah, this is pretty much how I handle social situations. I'm too nervous/shy to approach anyone, I'm scared of saying something that'll offend.))
Specifically, a man wearing a long, black cowl covered with raven feathers, whose cowl completely covered his face in shadows. Once he caught up with Ser Dylan, he put a clawed hand on his shoulder. "I have not seen you for a long while," he said in lieu of a greeting.
He whirled around, and relaxed only slightly when he recognized the speaker. "Oh... greetings, m'lord... Sorry, I don't like people sneaking up on me... I haven't seen you in some time either." He raised a finger to his chin. "Lessee... it was a kidnapped Wafleimian in the kingdom of Quinicht, right?"
The Baron waved his hand around. "Enjoying the... festives? All of the noise and crowds?" he asked with a tilt of his head. "I was convinced to leave the Monastery by a friend. 'Go on,' they said. 'It will be fun,' they said." He snorted.
He raised the plate he was holding. "I think this was called a funnel cake... But no, I'm not terribly good at interacting with others. I occasionally glance at a pretty girl or an interesting outfit, but I don't talk to anyone unless they talk to me first."
He ran his claw-like fingers through his short beard. "My days alone were my saddest, I think," he added after a while. "I was glad to find friends in Ozerbord." He smiled. "But enough of that. Pray tell, have you spotted any particularly interesting stand hereabouts? I am here, so I might as well have some 'fun'. No?"
"Like I said, I'm mainly here for the food. Good food, too..." Ser Dylan's mouth started watering as he went on. "Thus far, I have had turkey, chicken found in dungeons, a large trencher covered with cheese and meat, a piped pastry dusted with sugar, a spicy vegetable mix for dipping slivers of corn flour, rice and seafood rolled in seaweed, a breaded lobster the size of my head..."
((Respectively; turkey, Mysterious Wall Chicken, pizza, funnel cake, chips and salsa, sushi, and stuffed lobster.))
The Baron seemed disappointed. "I was hoping for actual excitement. I do not eat a lot," he said. Running a hand through his short beard once more, he looked around. "Though I am very partial to that leaf-made beverage," he added. "I hear they are importing it from beyond the Mistwall."
With a sigh, the Baron removed his cowl and ran a hand on his head. "I shall go looking for it."
A young woman detached herself from the crowd, jogging over and waving ecstatically. Not that she needed to; she was quite distinctive on her own. Alleb the Odd, a recent defector from the Marizu, was clothed solely in purple, from the tiny be-feathered lavender hat perched on her head to the high-heeled boots laced to her knees, the color of eggplants. She skidded to a halt in front of Lady Iximaz, resembling nothing so much as a bobbing violet-backed starling.
"Greeting, m'lady!" she said, bowing and grinning. "I only just caught sight of you! Are you newly arrived?"
Lady Iximaz turned and started slightly, one hand dropping to her belt knife before remembering that the newcomer was in fact Alleb and not a bloodthirsty Marizu. "Alleb," she said, bowing her head and trying not to stare at the girl's outfit. "It is good to see you, too. I only just arrived—my brother was kind enough to teleport me here. It's wonderful to see everyone enjoying themselves, isn't it? It seems like we get too few opportunities for merriment these days. I hope you are enjoying Sumralese?"
"We have nothing quite like it in Weab; a most grand celebration, most grand! Did you say your brother teleported you here as well? He was kind enough to send me off a few hours ago. It certainly saved me a fair walk! I say, my lady, have you seen the exhibitions yet? Oh, you really must, they're not to be missed!" Alleb said all of this in one breath and didn't seem to need any more. Many knights have speculated that she was subjected to some vile experiment during her time with the Marizu, as she displays such powers often.
Iximaz nodded toward one of the food stands and began walking toward it, slowly enough that Alleb could keep pace. "He's sadly too busy with his own studies to join us for food and festivities, but I did promise I would bring him back a small token as thanks for his assistance. As for the exhibitions, I have not yet had the time to see any, but I must say I am eagerly looking forward to the fire-eaters."