For A Day of Sky [Fawn]

[Arvælyn]

The Velvet Cabaret
33 Frost, 120 Steel Age

"Fine." Arvalyn replied coolly, leaning over the clavier and burying his face in his hands. "Can we just take it from-..." He paused, realising the music director didn't speak Mythrasi and probably wouldn't be able to tell where he meant based on the lyric. He shook his head and figured it would just be easier to, "Just coming out of the bridge, please." The musician nodded, and his hands fell to the clavier, evoking dulcet, wistful pleas from the keys as he caressed them.

Arvalyn pushed himself off of his lean on the instrument, to saunter gracefully back toward centre stage. He let the music guide his mind, and more importantly his emotions- His thoughts traveled farther than his steps- back in time to the period when he'd been his most innocent. A child, impressionable and unformed- ignorant to the hardships of the real world, even as he faced them every day. His blood stirred at the memories of that helpless, hopeless naif. Arvalyn keyed himself into the part of him that wished he could feel that way again, and he cast aside the part of him that knew he'd be long dead if he'd remained so vulnerable after there was no one left with his best interests at heart- No one to protect him but himself.

His lips parted, and he sang in the tongue of his mother's people-

"I remember days..." As the words spilled from his lips, a tear threatened to spill from his golden eye. He stood unmoving, his face stoic and still but for the motion it took to phonate the words and tones of the sorrowful verse. His arms were limp at his sides, and his head tilted ever so slightly to the right. His glistening eyes spoke in a universal language that expressed the spirit of the song, if not the specifics of the language in which it was sung. They sung of resigned and irrevocable sorrow- Of regret and all the hopelessness that tended to accompany that fruitless feeling.

The tear didn't escape the sunlit warmth of his eye until he completed the final phrase, couched in the beautiful Elven tongue of his ancestors:

"...And at times I think, I would gladly die... for a day of sky." The final chord on the clavier sounded longer than the voice of the ostensibly Hytori boy, who blinked and wiped at his eyes, as he stepped back to the music director and leaned over his instrument for notes. He hadn't noticed the other figure entering during his otherwise intimate rehearsal.

"I'll work on that." Arvalyn replied weakly, with a faint nod. "Thank you. Maybe if you have time a couple mornings from now, we can try with the other musicians?" The music director agreed, and Arvalyn stepped away from the clavier and down off the stage. Only then, did he notice he'd had an audience.

"Oh... Are you up next? I hope I didn't crack your eardrums or anything."

[Fawn]

33 Frost, 120 AoSxx

She was weary. The previous night, the one that hadn’t ended till the sun had risen and left her in a fit of tears upon the floors of Mistreach Keep. But she still had work to do, songs and dance to practice, and as she’d promised Lunaria- money to make.

She hadn’t had the time to collect many of her things from home yet, and the place had been left a sordid mess after the past few busy days, but the hour between her rescue and her arrival at the cabaret had given her just enough time to wash and grab a small bag of clothes. When she finally did open the heavy doors, her eyes puffy from the rough evening, she was greeted with the sound of a hypnotic, melancholy, yet beautifully bright voice. Her eyes traveled to the stage as she left the cold frost air and bustling city behind in favor of a warmer ambiance.

Weary feet carried her forward through the maze of seating and pristine tables that had already been cleared and polished hours before. He sounded like an angel. A devil. A snake in a bush and a butterfly on a flower. A flowing river and an oncoming storm. She stared at him with fascination, she could feel in her chest, her head, her tongue, the placement of his pitch that delved into her heart and soul and pulled from her the ache she had felt just that morning.

The pain of wondering if they’d cared when they left her, frozen in a small basket. Of who they were, who they could be, if they were still alive. Why they’d done it. Thoughts that Fawn hadn’t entertained in their entirety since her childhood. But now, after having met that child, a near mirror image of her own life, she closed her eyes and listened. She submitted to his music, sinking into the soft tremors of his voice, and let it flow through her mind and body and set the flame in her alive with a sorrow meant only for the damned.

Too soon it was over. His voice resonated and trailed off in a lingering echo throughout the cabaret.

Her eyes opened, she watched him leave the stage as a ghost of his sorrow followed close behind. Her lips were parted as the man approached, ready to speak but at first simply staring at him when he spoke to her.
A few seconds later she startled, blinking and then pulling a sheepish grin out from the pain that she pushed back and hid in the box she dared not open again. “Oh! No, maybe! Ye were wonderful, nothing to crack here.” She laughed, her voice clear as a bell. “I’m Fawn, just started recently. And ye are?” She placed her bag down at the edge of the wall and pulled back her mane of copper, tying it in a low, loose ponytail behind her before straightening back out again.

“I think I’ve seen ye around, but I’ve never heard a song like that before!” She was wide eyed and bushy tailed, eager for his talents and in wonder of his performance.

“Where did'jye learn it?” She asked, smoothing out her blue linen dress that still held the stains and damage of her farm-life across the hem of the skirt and sleeves.

[Arvælyn]

Arvalyn cracked a slight grin at the girl's charmingly guileless response to his self-deprecation. The compliment seemed heartfelt enough, even if he tended toward suspicion when faced with compliments. This particular music director was a harsh taskmaster, and far more liberal with critiques than praise. He was happy to have a morsel from this stranger to which he could cling.

"Fawn, like a baby deer?" His faint smile broadened into something more amused, "Well met, Fawn. I am Arvalyn, and I've seen you about, as well. I don't typically go out of my way to greet the newcomers. It's always a pity to make an acquaintance and lose them to the turnover rate of this industry. Rather like a farmer naming the animals before sending them to slaughter..." He paused, furrowing his brow as if his own words had taken him aback.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night, so I suppose I'm rather punchy." He glanced over his shoulder toward the stage, "The song?" He stared for a moment, as if he could look back in time at his own performance- as if he'd find the answer to her question thither. "It's a folk song from Sol'Valen." He didn't go so far as to say he'd learnt it there. Though his mother was born there and still dwelt the shores of that distant clime, he'd never been there himself. He just lived under the pretense of being an Elf of some import who'd quit those lands to escape the burden of his noblesse oblige- To seek liberty of the commonfolk of this eclectic city.

"Did you understand the words?" Arvalyn arched an eyebrow, curiously as he regarded the fresh-faced young redhead. His wandering mind recalled the first time he'd laid eyes upon her he'd wondered whether she might be some cousin of Aurin's come to visit.

[Fawn]

33 Frost, 120 AoSxx

The redhead bent down to begin filtering through her bag. From inside the worn leather confines she pulled a deep red dress. It’s sheer silk fabric shimmered in the lights of the stage and surrounding candles but she kept it folded neatly in her arms as she rose to meet Arvalyns gaze. He stood half a foot over her, which, while shorter than the other men she’d gotten acquainted with as of late, was still a fair measure taller even with the added volume of her curly hair.

“Aye, But I’m no wee deer.” She said, a flush taking hold of her cheeks as she smiled at him, a mixture of pride and embarrassment present in her features. Her name had been one of those questions you’d never get an answer to. Who had named her? Had it been her father or mother, or perhaps someone else entirely? Was it even meant to be her name? The letter left in her basket when she had been found as a baby only had one legible word left; Fawn, and with only that small hint to go one, her adoptive mother honored the memory of whoever had given her up. In the hopes that someday, maybe, she’d find them again. But that seemed a futile effort now, at least if talking by name alone.

Fawn shrugged in response to his observation. “I’d heard they come and go like stray cats in a barn. I don’t plan to make this a short stay, so it's nice to officially meet ye.” She shifted the dress from one arm to the other and extended her free hand out to shake his. Still tired from the previous night, she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and shook the tired that teased her.

His question drew it’s own brow raise from the girl. “All the way from Sol Valen?!” She exclaimed, whistling in awe. “Wowww. I couldnna understand a single word. But the best music is understood without knowledge of it’s lyrics. At least I think so.” The girl winked playfully, as if sharing a secret between them that she’d dare not tell another soul. Least of all other musicians.

“Have ye any plans to play another? I’d love to hear- I’ll admit I’m a tad new to all… this.” Her eyes gestured to the entire room before returning to him. “So, if I could have permission to watch ye, I’d be honored. Though I will need to practice me own performance at some point- Lunaria said I need to ‘show off some skin’, so, I’ll need to make sure this dress won’t rip when I move.” She shrugged, pulling the dress up and letting it’s length fall down in liquid motion. Soft, sheer, and dangerously short, the crimson chiffon outfit had clearly been created to entice. It held golden rivets on a corset back and was low cut in a sweetheart style with thin shoulder straps. It’s skirt was flowy, but short enough to end at one’s upper thigh.

“This looks more like a nighty to me, but the lady said it would be perfect for the cabaret, so, I suppose we’ll see.” She studied it for the eleventh time in the past three days. Since her purchase, all she’d done was stare at it. Study it. Wonder if it was too much, or perhaps too little. The cost had nearly drained the last of her spending money, but according to the shopkeeper ‘it would win every gold back in a single night’.

[Arvælyn]

Now that introductions had been made, Arvalyn looked the girl over in earnest. Not just the cursory glances he'd afforded thus far that took note of her most stark features, but an appraisal of her natural features as well as her mode of dress. His own, at the moment, was a simple albeit well-made tunic of a soft, shimmery material with a gold brocade pattern over a deep purple base. Like most of what he wore around the cabaret, it was really a costume he'd nicked from the auxiliary wardrobe area that doubled as his bedroom. Since it was still early, and the crowds hadn't rolled in yet, he'd just thrown something easy and functional on for his private rehearsal.

"Well, I'm much quicker to make the acquaintance of a stray cat than a stray human." He chortled, but paused abruptly as if just remembering his company, "No offence. I just think cats are precious babies. But I've met a few humans that weren't altogether insufferable, as well, so there's hope for you, too."

He nodded mildly,

"Indeed!" He was pleased to find Fawn appropriately awed by the idea of being treated to a taste of Sol'Valen. It was precisely that sort of reaction that had elicited his ruse in the first place.

"Well, actually my next plan is for breakfast. I'm not a headliner or anything, so I don't get much time to rehearse. It's no wonder they never give me solos, when I scarcely have a moment to practice with the musicians." A slight snarl accompanied the gripe, which sounded quite baked-in. This wasn't a new complaint, it seemed.

"Mm. Lunaria is an absolute queen, isn't she?" Arvalyn beamed, "You should listen well to her. When I first started she taught me that one of the best ways to improve as a performer is to study people's behaviour- And where are people more themselves than in the bedroom? So, at her urging, I assented to give private performances to interested clients. You know, there've been a few big stars who found their patrons that way..." He regarded her dress, "You needn't play the coquette with me." He said, with a cheeky wink.

"Now, then, have you breakfasted yet? The cooks typically put out a trough's worth of food for the employees around this hour, and I'm fair famished."

[Fawn]

33 Frost, 120 AoSxx

He was a pretty sort of man. Not in the same way a flower was, but in the same way the sunrise was. Bold, bright, mysterious as it peaked over the clouds and offered a warm mystery of the day. Fawn appreciated that sort of warmth, and tucked a strand of escaped hair behind her freckled ear as she scrunched her nose.

"Well, I don't much like cats meself, so yer on yer own in that regard." She smiled, shrugging off the idea that anyone could enjoy the company of cats. It seemed the lot of the workers at the cabaret, the ones she'd met and likely the ones she hadn't if pattern continued, had a fascination with the dangerous felines. Confusing really, but at the end of the day she figured everyone had their quirks.

Listening to him speak was like continuing to hear the novelty of his song, his accent thick and strange, one she hadn't heard since three years ago when a band of tourists had come passing through her town on the way to Kalzasi. Though, they had been incredulously rude to her family, and Arvalyn was clearly not the same. It pulled a tender smile to her face. "Well, I don't see why they keep ye off the stage, yer marvelous! If I was a customer I'd be requestin' ye!" She beamed. Truly, she enjoyed music as much as an eagle enjoys the sky. "Aye! Though, I don't have the bedroom experience yet. Are people really that different back there?" Fawn asked, rubbing the cold from her nose after the long night. "What's a coquette?"Her head tilted and brow furrowed as she folded the dress once more with a puzzled expression. It was a relief to finally think of different topics after light nights ordeal, but she couldn't help but wonder if the boy was okay. If he'd be adopted anytime soon, if he'd ever gain the ability to speak. The thoughts plagued her mind a few moments before, as if on queue with his own plans, her stomach let out a loud rumble.

Surprise took hold of her face before a hearty laugh escaped her throat. "I suppose that answers that question! I haven't had a bite since the festival last night." Fawn, bright as a hearth at night, tucked the dress back into her bag in favor of the promise of a meal. Practice could wait, she figured. "Did ye go? It was marvelous! There was so much food I thought I would die from all the choices!"

[Arvælyn]

Arvalyn's hand leapt to his chest, fingers splayed as his visage broadcast flagrant incredulity at her marked and unabashed distaste for precious baby cats. He might have looked like someone accustomed to leisure, who'd be at home in a high-backed, finely upholstered chair- tantamount to a throne- with something entirely too fluffy in his lap. In reality, he'd grown up on the streets and had an affinity for alley cats because he'd been a stray himself for so long. He related to them- Quick, clever, graceful and hungry. They were among the few companions he'd had back then on the streets whom he hadn't seen as competition. Even when he was afforded little more than scraps to fill his own belly, he'd made sure to offer his tithe to his fellow strays of the feline ilk.

"Don't let Lunaria learn of that unfortunate quirk, or your time at the cabaret may be fleeting after all. Her furry friend Pascal has more say over the staffing than anyone on two legs. One might call him..." Arvalyn smirked broadly, "A catsting director." He held a beat for his stupid pun to land, then his smile quickly fell away and he cleared his throat.

"Anyway. I thank you for your compliments. It isn't as though I'm a complete stranger to the stage. I'm a featured dancer, a chorus singer, a frequent bawdy punchline, and... Well, customers do request me, but not for my vocal talents." He glanced down, the sun in his eyes overcast by that notion.

"A coquette?" His eyes darted back up to meet Fawn's. "It's, well..." He considered, "One who plays the naif... evokes the role of the maiden to captivate a certain ilk of man." He gestured toward the kitchen, "Shall we?" Without awaiting an answer, he made for the door to see what the spread was this morning.

[Fawn]

33 Frost, 120 AoSxx

A copper eyebrow raised at his gesture and paired with an abused smile and chuckle. While she'd grown up on a farm, the only cats she'd come across, aside from Mino of course, were feral, cruel, mangey, greedy, and killed her chickens. At best they'd chased mice, moles, and other pests away, but for what help they offered it had never seemed to outweigh the destruction they left behind. But Arvalyn's fondness of the creatures was endearing in it's own way, and not one should would question. Hell, it seemed many people in Kalzasi had a different view on them than she did.

Fawn shrugged, her amused smile turning to a coy, knowing smirk. "Oh sure, the 'cat'" She brought both hands up and gestured air quotes in the air, a prideful gleam in her eye. "Don't worry, I've already figured that one out~" Her hands folded behind her back as she praised herself for being so quick. Of course that being wasn't a real cat, how could it? And the more she thought about it, Mino had been similar. Purring, rubbing himself over her, it would only be a short while before she uncovered exactly what Pascal was, be it Rathari or something else entirely. But certainly not a real cat.

His explanation morphed her expression. Still confused- a naif? Ilk? Words she'd never heard before once again. But the general idea was likely just a flirt, which she could understand plainly. With a shrug she followed. "Sure!"

As they passed the threshold of the kitchen her eyes widened. Technology and magic flowed throughout the space producing enticing, herby scents that wafted through the air and drew her hunger in. In front of them stood a counter, lined with a spread of quiches, mixed fruit, artisan breads and small chunks of meat with skewers.

“Take whatever you need, newbie, you’ll need the energy!” One of the cooks shouted, looking through an opening between some shelves in the back and giving an encouraging wave to her. Fawn, nearly drooling at the lavish display, picked a small plate up from the side of the table and beamed back at him.

“Thank ye!” She filled the plate up with a quiche, some fruit, and some pieces of meat then stopped to wait for Arvalyn to finish his pick of food. Once he had, she picked up two sets of utencils and followed him back to one of the tables and sat across from him comfortably, placing his set of silverware next to him as she did.
“So, what brought you to the Cabaret?”

[Arvælyn]

Arvalyn cocked his head to the left at Fawn's use of finger quotes. Shrugging, he led the way into the kitchen, where the cooks didn't trouble themselves to greet him. He'd earned himself a reputation for aloofness amongst many of his coworkers. Perhaps it was part and parcel to the sort of character it took to ignore newcomers to the staff until such time as they paid him a compliment, as had been the case with Fawn.

He made his way to the spread, and claimed a plate upon which he placed two slices of quiche and a few grapes. The meat and bread were forgone entirely, along with most of the fruit options. He started to reach for silverware, and then saw that Fawn had already gotten a set for him.

"Ah, thank you." He smiled, and led the way back out of the kitchen and toward the cabaret tables. It was early enough that performances hadn't begun for the day, and so the staff was able to spread out and break their fasts in peace. Arvalyn placed his plate down on one of the tables he knew didn't wobble, and took a seat.

"My passion to perform. My upbringing in the distant East didn't allow for the opportunity, and so I trudged West to find someplace with more open minds. Or, at the very least, with a population that wasn't overly concerned with my actions." He waved his hand, as if dismissing the matter, then lifted a fork to break off a piece of quiche.

"And what about you, Fawn?" He arched an eyebrow, and lifted his gaze from the plate to the girl across from him. "How did you find yourself in the midst of this motley crew?"

[Fawn]

33 Frost, 120 AoSxx

Fawn nodded along with his story, all the while popping grape after grape into her mouth and savoring the sweet, nearly sour flavor.

"Then yer trip must'ave been a long one! Mine was only five days, but still felt like forever." She smiled as she picked up the quiche in her hands, forgoing the utencils entirely, and took a large bite of the pastry with a satisfied squeal. "Mmm!" A few moments of chewing later, she swallowed and grinned. "Well, I came here to find magic. My town doesn't have much more magic than that you'd find in lighting, and a friend told me Kalzasi was the place to find it." Fawn bit off another bite, then mid enjoyment drank down a few gulps of water.

"But, I canna go without music too long. So, when I found this place I thought; Aye, this is perfect!" She chuckled a little and scarfed down the rest of her quiche with messy fingers.

"Though, I dinna expect the dancin' to be so... skinful." Fawn flicked her own pun out at him with a wink and shoved a handful of grapes in her mouth. She wasn't a messy eater by any means, but made no movement to prevent the quiche from leaving pieces on the tips of her fingers, or the fruits from leaving their own sugars behind. When she was finished with her plate, which didn't take any longer than the brief conversation, she sighed contently and noticed the still decently full plate that Arvalyn had. Her brow rose. Perhaps people in the city ate slower due to the lack of rush requested by farm animals, she wondered.

"When ye started, did ye find yerself... nervous? Out of yer comfort zone? Did ye do the backroom stuff right from day one?" She asked. Her eyes travelled back to the bag where the dress lay. It wasn't that she was not willing to perform with such an outfit, but moving in free flowing clothing was so much easier, would tighter clothing be different? She also wondered if perhaps everyone started out like her; virgin, though according to Lunaria it seemed more than the experienced sort were more common. If that was the case, she'd have a lot to prove. And in such a short amount of time.