A Game of Tongues

[Sivan]

45 Frost 120
Sivan's Cottage
Plaza of the Jeweled Arches
Midday

Stretched on a hoop where I stitch this adage:
Bless our house and its heart so savage
And all that I want and all that I need
And all that I've got is scattered like seed
And all that I knew is moving away from me

"Like this," he said, cutting the winter apple carefully so Flower could see it. Then, once the Fae'ethalan showed he could do it properly, "Yes."

Sivan took a step back and watched. Flower wanted to be helpful and so he tried to let him do what he could do. Not very domestic himself, he hadn't been able to teach him any culinary arts, but he knew how not to cut off a finger while chopping things, at least. The part of him that was a student of magic was curious whether Flower's finger would just grow back, but he wasn't going to experiment upon his ward just to satiate his curiosity.

The elf also wasn't used to delegating but he knew how he himself bristled when Jacun tried to show him how to do something he already knew, so he walked away. The trouble was that the cottage wasn't really big enough for personal space, especially with the sizable Awoken who was, ironically, sleeping in the corner. Despite his often surly demeanor, Sivan took a little time to dust IX and to polish its metal parts with something akin to tenderness. He just didn't know what to do for his hibernating friend despite his skill at artificing; he could only hope his growing knowledge of alchemy might help bring it back. Nor had he any idea yet about how to break the curse on Flower, if indeed a curse it was. His shortcomings were glaringly obvious to him. Perhaps that was why he drove himself so hard to succeed under Jacun's tutelage.

He pulled the table over to the bed so their guest could sit on the cottage's one chair while they used the bed as a bench.

He knelt before the hearth and whispered to Khal, feeding him a slender thread of aether to perk him up. The sprite brightened and burned happily for the attention. At least the little cottage was cozy.

He walked back to IX and stirred the rainwater in the tub it held, whispering to Zin and feeding them some aether as well. The tub glowed faintly, a paler, watery light quite different from the firelight and the winter sunlight shining through the windows. The water sprites kept the plumbing working and made the water almost sweet.

He walked back to check on Flower and realized that he was basically pacing back and forth.

With an exasperated sigh for himself, he patted Flower's shoulder encouragingly.

"Good work. He should be here soon. Arvalyn. Perhaps we will both learn Common from him."

That said, he went to idle by the door so he could let their guest in out of the cold as soon as he knocked.

[Flower]

Flower wrinkled his nose as he watched Sivan carefully handle the knife. He knew it was sharp. He knew sharp things were dangerous. He also knew that he wished to avoid danger. It would do no good to hurt himself, and therefore increase the effort Sivan had to put into caring for him. It was already frustrating enough to not find himself able to communicate with Sivan the way he wanted. It was enough, already, to know that his survival depended entirely on the goodwill of another person. He wanted to contribute, to be more than a hang-on or charity case.

At least they had decided on a nickname for now. He knew, at his core, it could not possibly be his name, but it was better than having no identity at all.

There was a sense of relief as Sivan stepped back, allowing for him to cut the apples on his own. It was a sign of trust that he could do the job right, and it gave Flower some sense of comfort that he was not ruining the process. It was a very small thing of which to be proud, being able to cut apples, but it was a step in the right direction. At the very least, he could help provide some relief from chores, and share some of the burden now, rather than casting it all on Sivan’s shoulders.

A smile was given at Sivan’s praise. He had arranged the apple slices in what he considered to be a pretty pattern, which was met with approval. He echoed the name that was spoken in nothing more than a whisper, “Arv...alyn.”

He felt a strange, sudden spike of anxiety, likely spurred by Sivan’s pacing, but did his best to ignore it. What was there for him to fear? This was someone Sivan knew, and evidently trusted enough to bring into their home. He set aside the platter of apples, and moved to stand alongside Sivan, smiling reassuringly up to him. “Ready,” he comforted. The tiny house was clean and cozy. Food was prepared. Flower was quite proud of how things looked, and prouder still to have contributed to that.

[Arvælyn]

Arvalyn had bundled up for the walk to Sivan's cottage in layers. One of the advantages of his lodging arrangement, was that he was able to borrow clothes for almost any occasion from the costume racks that enveloped his living space. Unfortunately, the 'almost' didn't include many options for a cold afternoon, as the costumes didn't tend to offer much in the way of coverage. There were a few cloaks, at least, which were typically worn briefly at the beginning of a performance to facilitate big reveals. The sweater he donned was his own and the leather breeches had been borrowed from Aurin so long ago he, and likely the common law, considered them his own.

He wore a woolen cap beneath the hood of the cloak, as he stepped out into the brisk, Frosty air, and the sensation of having his long Hytori ears constricted so reminded him of his bygone life in Antiris. Then he'd worn such head gear regardless of the season or the weather, more to conceal his heritage than to warm his scalp. Here his concerns were different ones.

Ere long he arrived at the address Sivan had provided. The whole walk there, he'd been rehearsing a line he prepared in Mythrasi to serve as greeting. His pronunciation was near perfect but, as Sivan had learnt upon their first meeting, his grammar left a great deal to be desired. He knew a few stock phrases quite well, and could manage to get his thoughts out comprehensibly in most instances, however he had issues with conjugations and word order that made had led to embarrassing exchanges more than once. So this time, he'd made sure to at least have this one opening line in perfect order- Checking with a more facile speaker of the language, and practising ad nauseum, right up until the moment he knocked on Sivan's door.

He grinned as it swung open and parted his lips to speak the words he'd plotted out, and then he saw that Sivan was not alone, which meant that he would need to conjugate the forms of address in plural. He paused for a moment with his mouth slightly agape, as he tried to revise the phrase in his mind, then he panicked and jettisoned the notion entirely, and spoke in Common:

"Good afternoon, Sivan, and um... Hello, you." He offered a sheepish wave to the other youth.

[Sivan]

Sivan's smile as he opened the door was a mite awkward, as well. It was one thing to let a guest into his old master's lodgings or to nod to someone arriving at the apothecary for Jacun's work. It was quite another to have a place of his own that was small and somewhat crowded now, even with IX inert in the corner.

"Hello, Arvalyn," he said. "Please come in."

Crossing the threshold was like walking immediately into another season. The sprites kept the elements under control, but they were tiny sparks of elemental power and so the one-room home was about the entirety of their range. But Flower was, they guessed, a member of the Spring Court so it ought to feel like spring in his home.

"May I take your cloak?" He was only going to hang it up on the hook by the doorway where his and Flower's already hung.

"This is Flower," he said. Then, in Common, "Flower." He looked to Flower. It didn't sound nearly so nice in the human language, but it would have to do. Not wanting to be rude, but wanting to lay things out so nobody was more uncomfortable than they had to be, he added. "Fae'ethalan." That would explain the lilies in his hair, the petal-pink parts of his skin, and the occasional residue of pollen he seemed to leave behind, which was rude. Sivan didn't jerk off on the furniture. "Cursed." That was the word in Common. "Understand Mythrasi. Speaks little. Not stupid, quiet. Perhaps winter is. Winter sleep. Like bear. Like..." Then he looked over at IX and indicated the dormant Awoken holding the tub of water that he had left even after the water sprites kept the roof from leaking. "Like IX. IX sleep."

He indicated the one chair.

"You would like sit here?"

[Hikami]

A Game of Tongues

---

Points awarded:

• Sivan - 8 {Can be used for magic}
  Arvalyn - 8 {No Magic}

Lores:

• Sivan
  ► Show Spoiler

  Alchemy: Uses in Artificing
  Summoning: Feeding Fire Sprites
  Summoning: Feeding Fire Sprites
  Summoning: Balancing Home Sprites
  Linguistics: Lessons in Common
  Survival: Making Use of Little Space
  Arvalyn
  ► Show Spoiler

  Linguistics:
  Prepared Mythrasi phrases
  Pronouncing Mythrasi like a native
  Articulating convincingly in unfamiliar tongues
  Working on Mythrasi grammar
  Communicating simple ideas in his second tongue
  Learning distinct dialects
  Singing in Mythrasi
  Reading Mythrasi

Loot:

• None

Injuries:

• None

Notes:

• Great thread!
  Flower if you come back and decide to cash in on your rewards let me know ^v^
  If you feel I missed anything contact me and we will make adjustments!
  enjoy your rewards!