Cold Bones, Warm Draughts [Imogen]

[Sivan]

Zef laughed at the punchline; Laurevere merely smiled into his teacup.

"The Order plays virtuous philanthropic humanist here in Kalzasi, but I see through that," Zef declared. "Ah, Sivan. I'll have a pot of the mallow and bergamot tea, please."

"If you are making tea, I will have the dark dragon, please," Laurevere added quietly.

"Very well." He set the pouch down in front of Imogen. "A few drops on the tongue ought to last you for a couple of days. It will hit the tongue like a hot sauce, but quickly dissipate into a gentle burn in your mouth. Within ten to fifteen minutes, it ought to have spread through your body and you should be comfortable with the cold. It oughtn't to give you a fever, just maintain your body temperature more efficiently."

He didn't know if she would want to sample it before paying, so he left it at that and went to summon his sprites to brew fresh pots of tea for the other men. She seemed to have fallen in well with them, and he was content to serve them while Exael kept watch up front. He was rarely bored at work; there were either customers or projects to work on. Sometimes it was nice to have people just enjoying themselves, as well. Laurevere was his new neighbor; Zef was a regular. It almost felt like being part of a community, which was strange for someone who found interpersonal relationships so baffling most of the time. Kalzasi had brought him real friends and he had put down roots of a necessity.

Before Kalzasi, he had been more like Imogen, moving right along. He didn't suppose it was any better or worse a way, but it was different.

[Imogen]

“'If you say so, Master Sunrunner- my life is in your hands.” Imogen tipped the pouch up, allowing a few drops to hit her tongue. As promised, the liquid turned to heat as it ran down her throat, but this caused her no real discomfort. She loved the feeling of warmth, burning lightly across the back of her throat.

“'Mmph. Not a bad burn. Well, hopefully it works as you have said, but I don't care to carry debts for long, so let me count your payment.” The Orkhan girl quickly located and unlatched her purse, unhurriedly counting the money onto the table. There was nothing particularly unusual about this purchase, but Imogen had spent a long time associating with people who preferred if the money was presented openly and got very upset if she carelessly miscounted.

As she counted, she considered Zef's claim. “'Oh, the philanthropy is genuine, to be sure. But just because something is high-minded doesn't mean it isn't a weapon. And imagine if that dog finally caught its own tail, eh?" Imogen wasn't really intimately familiar with the methods of the Kindred, but she had severe doubts that the Order was prepared to replace that coven's efforts at quelling the Dread Mists with anything of equal potency. Like any Sunsinger, Imogen had found herself occasionally at the service of one of the nature wizards- not a particularly coveted job, but you could hardly complain when the alternative was outbreaks. "Anyway.”

Imogen finished her count and pushed the coins across the table. “'What about yourself, Master Sunrunner? You've got no robe, but you sized me up and determined a recipe in, what, twenty seconds? And you're plainly a mage of no small skill. Have you any story you'd care to tell?”

[Sivan]

When he brought the tea for the gentlemen, she insisted on paying, which was all well and good. They settled that and while he was clearing away their old teapot and things, he collected her coin.

"I'll be right back with a receipt." That said, he finished bussing what was no longer necessary to free up room on the small table, and then went into the other room to write up a receipt. He returned to catch the rest of their conversation, which was mildly interesting, though he had no intention of going to any city where magic was more heavily regulated than Kalzasi. To that point, she asked about his lack of color coordination.

Laurevere seemed interested in his answer, while Zef was less so; he had heard it before, no doubt.

"Well, ah... my mother was a Dratori diplomat to Silfanore. There she met my father. From what I gather, the love was real, but not the lasting kind. She took me back to Dalquia when her term was up. Eventually, I moved back to Sol'Valen because I never quite fit in among my mother's people. I never quite fit in among my father's people, either, but it seemed the grass was always greener wherever I wasn't." He made a face; the joke was on him. "But I did meet my old master in Silfanore and he wanted to spend his twilight years traveling, so we made our way west. When he was dying, he gave me a letter and suggested I take it to Master Jacun in Kalzasi, and so I did. And then I became Jacun's apprentice, though he teaches me alchemy rather than the various things my old master taught me.

"I've been with Master Jacun a little over a year now. 'Tis possible I'll finish my apprenticeship next season and then... perhaps I will stay on for more advanced training or perhaps I will move into a different direction. I do seem to have put some roots down here, though who can say if they will last?"

He paused. "Would you like another? On the house."

[Imogen]

“'I can hardly refuse such a kind offer, thank you.” Imogen scratched idly at one arm as she watched the young alchemist busy himself with the cups and pots and sundry affairs of teatime. Even warm as it was in the sideroom, her scales were still acting up, and they were itching besides. Perhaps she ought to look into Mr. Sunrunner's suggestion for that, too? The elixir hadn't killed her yet, and she got the impression that he knew what he was on about.

“Wow, you've really gotten around. But I know what you mean about greener pastures- my parents were both second-generation Zaichaeri, but it seemed like all the fond fireside stories were about Ecith and how everyone and everything was back then. Never any talk about why, if it was so good, they left in the first place, you know? And as a sword for hire, people always talked about retiring to Kalzasi... well, the people here are lovely, but this climate is going to murder me.”

“'That's one of the reasons I quit mercenary life to go work for the theater. You get all the illusions you'd like, and nobody's confusing them with anything real.”

Not exactly true (on many levels), but it had the ring of it. All the tales of great ancestral heroes had lived in Imogen throughout her childhood, and a little bit of talent with the sword combined with her natural swagger had kept her convinced for years of her own invincibility. But the magic of the Sunsingers burned through illusions, and, as Imogen had discovered during the Trial all those years ago, that included the ones you had constructed without outside assistance.

“Well, I'm here for a few more weeks, anyway. Anything you gentlemen would suggest seeing in that time? I'd hate to have to admit to my friends at home that I'd come all this way and missed anything.'”

[Sivan]

Sivan smiled faintly. Socializing was difficult for him, but Imogen didn't make it more difficult than it had to be. And he no longer had what Master Jacun had called resting bitch face, so hopefully people didn't read him as unfriendly before he even opened his mouth. It just didn't come naturally to him; he did better with spirits than with people. With a nod, he went to fix her a new mug. From the counter, he could still converse.

"A fair amount of travel, yes, though never off of Ailizane, never so far as Ecith."

"There is a sizeable elven community attached to a volcano in the deserts of Ecith," Laurevere supplied. "It has long been a place I have wanted to visit, but alas, duty has kept me from roaming where I would most like."

Zef squinted at him, then at Imogen. "I suppose I can't really say anything about the weather. I've enough mastery of Traversion to pop over here for my tea without having to brave the blizzards."

"But could you take us all the way to Ecith, Master Mirlind?" Sivan asked from the counter.

"No, not that far, boy."

"I haven't been yet, but I have heard good things about the Golden Peacock Theater here," Sivan offered as he set her new mug down and then lingered, standing so he could talk until another customer might call him away. "But you probably already know the artistic circles here better than I do. I'm more craftsman than artist. Ah, it's on the same square as the Jade Crane Bathhouse, which might be another place that could help you figure out what's irritating your scales. And the Velvet Cabaret for, ah... a bit of debauchery. A good place to eat is right across the street from us: the Roasted Hen. I might be biased because it's so convenient, though. The owner is also an Orkhan." He didn't know if she was keen to connect with her own people; Sivan cared less for race than the type of person he met. His best friends were a human and a Fae'ethalan, though Laurevere seemed to want to make him a part of his social circle, which was the closest thing to his own race.

"The High Hopes Tavern is owned by Prince Rien Novalys. They have sparring matches there if you want a little good-natured violence. It isn't so high brow even for a princely establishment..." He wasn't sure what else she might want to know, but if she asked for specifics, he would try to reply in kind.

[Imogen]

Imogen stayed in the store for longer than she had intended, chatting away with the gregarious wizard, withdrawn Hytori and the friendly alchemist's student. It wasn't that she had any issue with spending time with others- she was happy to fill silences with stories and listen to other stories in turn- but she knew that any shopkeeper had to close up eventually, and she didn't want to make poor Sivan work late on her account. Eventually, her concern overcame her instinct to respond to story with story, and she made her farewells to the occupants of the shop, promising at the last that if she ever did manage to visit Ecith she would send them some souvenir by post.

She continued out through the front of the shop, not quite catching the reflection of something blurry and indistinct gazing at her from the window as she made her way through the fascinating aisles, though it seemed that much of the displays had been closed up and put away for the night's closing. This Sivan fellow was quite a diligent worker, in addition to being a fairly impressive alchemist. She wondered if this "Master Jacun" really was somehow even bet- hold on, what was that in the window? Imogen's eyes finally caught up to the narration, and she turned around to see...

Nothing. Everything was perfectly usual, in and out of the shop.

The Sunsinger shrugged off the trick of the light and proceeded apace. When she stepped back outside into the cold, she found that it seemed to simply... fail to reach her. As though she had just emerged from a sauna, still wearing the mantle of the heat too closely for the chill to penetrate it. It was a much more comfortable sensation than the earlier chill, and she yawned easily in the evening Frost, suddenly much happier about the prospect of spending another forty days in Kalzasi. The prospect of spending time observing the beauty of the city was infinitely more engaging now that she could do so without wishing for the warm embrace of the grave.

“'Well, there's the first part of cultural evaluation done.” Imogen commented to nobody, “'And my conclusion? Alchemy... is quite good, actually.”

~Fin~

[Finn]

Review

Experience: 8 xp, available for Alchemy and Summoning for Sivan.

Lore:

Imogen

To be determined.

Sivan

Botany:
Understanding Tea Flavors
Understanding Tobacco Blends

Business:
Serving Customers Without Interrupting
Assessing Customer Needs
Explaining Product Uses
Offering Refreshments
Aided by Spirits
Honesty Is Best
Setting Expectations
Crafting to a Specific Client's Needs
Explaining How to Use a Product
Fitting Into a Community

History:
The Settlement of Kalzasi

Injuries: N/A

Loot: N/A

Note: Let me know if you would like lores!