Page 1 of 1
[Valtoria, memory] Small Wagon, Big Questions
Posted: Sat Jan 15, 2022 2:47 pm
by Thomas
20th of Searing, Year 4618
Thomas was learning that Daravin wasn't as bad as he'd feared. His schooling had taught him that it was mages leading mundane people around on collars, or tearing them apart limb from limb for not smiling at them in the right way. While he wouldn't rule out that things like this happened in Daravin, it was not nearly so commonplace as he'd heard. If he'd had a choice, he wouldn't have signed up with the Prancing Prattlers at all, but the leader was a friend who also happened to know a bit too much about Thomas' other activities, and after he'd accidentally given an entire town an unfortunate case of dysentery, Thomas Worth was a bit too regionally renowned to be selling cure-alls, at least until people calmed down about what had been a perfectly honest mistake.
In any case, he'd signed up and almost hit the canvas roof when he found out they were heading into Daravin. He was convinced they'd all end up imprisoned there, or experimented on by evil mages, or taken as playthings, or worse. So far, it had been almost tame. Certainly, the roads here were not as dangerous as other areas of the continent, which was a pleasant change of pace. His beloved wagon had been repurposed, draped with garish but cheerful cloth cloth to make a little awning. His beloved sign was stored under the floorboards of his wagon, out of sight for the foreseeable future, because Magnus wanted him in character as Altair the Clairevoyant as much as possible.
Thomas was not overly fond of being Altair, but he didn't see much point in arguing with Magnus, who as far as he knew was one of the oldest in any of the traveling circus troupes. Anyone who could survive for decades in an industry like this probably knew what they were doing. So he put on his silly little costume: Red linen pants that clung to his waist before ballooning out cartoonishly his thighs and then tightening again at the calves, presumably to show them off. Red cloth shoes, dyed to match the pants, that were little more than clogs with a soft cloth skin. No shirt, just an odd purple vest that Magnus furnished for him. Privately, Thomas had spent a few minutes trying to determine what it was even made of before giving up; it moved like cloth but felt like old leather. It also itched terribly until he covered it in alcohol overnight, hoping he hadn't just received one of the best and most stubborn audience members an actor could hope for: scabies.
Magnus also gave him a stupid hat. It was too small to actually cover his head. Instead it perched on there like a lady's fascinator, but with a domed crown. It did, however, have a big golden star on it, which he was rather fond of. It was dumb, but it did glitter prettily in the light of his shaded tent.
He was no stranger to what most people were really here for anyhow. When ladies, and it was mostly ladies, visited his tent, they were usually looking for some reassurance, spoken in a deep soft voice by an attractive shirtless man. He'd not expected Daravin clientele to buy Altair's claim to clairvoyance but it actually worked better here than most other places. Very few people seemed to expect him to actually be able to do much magic. The few rubes who did were easy enough to cold read. His more savvy clientele would make an arch comment about his title and he'd demur and joke a bit about it, a clear acceptance that they knew it was a bit, but without breaking character.
If people didn't want to hear a prediction of their future, there were plenty of other activities. There were games of skill and chance, a lady who swallowed swords and breathed fire without the aid of magic, a small chamber of musicians, and a juggler in addition to the usual sale of exotic comestibles: fried meat on a stick, sweetened roasted nuts, and refreshing is slightly watered down cider. It was enough to provide a diversion for an hour or two, and more if people cared to dance for a set. He'd been attached to worse, certainly.
As he finished up with his latest client and assured her that a good marriage proposal would come through if she had only had faith in her charms and the love she could give, he found himself wondering if anything interesting would happen that night, then admonished himself for inviting misfortune. Boring was good. Something interesting in Daravin would most likely be something dangerous.
Re: [Valtoria, memory] Small Wagon, Big Question
Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 2:39 am
by Asphodel Avarice
Asphodel had at first been scared when she'd discovered the scene before her. A carnival. She'd honestly never heard of such a thing before. Of course, she very rarely left the areas she called home. As a child, the group of older rathor who'd taught her how to eek out a living in the Badlands had in no uncertain terms informed her that the people of Daravin hardly took kindly to 'their type'. Which was a long way of saying, Asphodel rarely left the Badlands. It wasn't like she had a reason to, and yet... The older she grew though, the more curiosity grew alongside it. The more days she spent peering at an endless expanse of sand left her wondering if this was really just it. If this was her life. She didn't mind but it was... simultaneously dangerous and dull? Yeah, that was the best way to describe it. Her disposition wasn't one that particularly played nice with bandits and raider groups. So an outside she remained even there.
It was curiosity that drove her away from that place, if only for a little while. Long enough to realize the kind of place Daravin was, at least. Well, Asphodel was a fox rathor. If she wasn't sneaky she wouldn't have been alive this long anyway, she was already used to keeping her head down and keeping as much attention off herself as possible. She'd quickly learned not to talk, or at least to talk quietly so that no one had the time to question the strange bastardized mixture of her accent. Not to mention the fact she favored common over the more native tongues. Wasn't her fault. Of course, the language gap had made it even harder to figure out what was going on.
Yeah, suffice to say, Asphodel's gut reaction had been fear. A carnival... such a strange thing! Luckily, it seemed the majority of those running the carnival also favored common. It made sense for a group of traveling entertainers and it allowed to to glean a little extra information and slowly figure out what was going on. No, this was not some elaborate declaration of war or some kind of heinous ritual, it was just... a carnival. Whatever one of those was. She was still trying to figure out its purpose. Entertainment? Fun? If anything it was just stressing! There were way too many people, more than Asphodel was used to, and she didn't like the way her senses were muted. Rathor were a very slim population in Daravin. Being one was more than enough to draw eyes, something Asphodel didn't need on her. So she stayed in her human form as much as the dulled hearing and sense of smell frustrated her beyond belief. Her vision was better in the day, and she could see much broader strokes of color! Yet, it didn't at all seem worth it when one considered just how poor a human's night vision could be. On top of all that, even with a human nose there were too many smells here. The scent of food, people, and sweat hanging heavy on the air like some kind of oppressive miasma. She wasn't sure she liked this place, not one bit.
She pulled her cloak a little tighter around her, grateful that the hood not only acted as a barrier between her and the wider world but also helped to obscure the slightest hint of baptism's mark peeking out from under her bangs. Sure mages were plentiful here, but it would be the opposite of lovely if she got attention.
Oh, how she wished for rain, but it didn't seem like there was a saint's chance in Bel of that happening on a day like today, so she continued to walk.
Maybe some of the entertainment was cool. Strange men and women with even stranger skills. She still kept her money close to her chest though, not wanting to waste it. Food didn't feel particularly worth the expenditure, so she just continued to walk. What was she even doing here? Right when she was about to call it quits and try to find a quieter area, something did manage to catch her eye. Her gaze, sharp and steady, fell on one of the men who seemed to be working for this carnival. Why didn't he have a shirt? Yet another alarming addition to this whole event. His outfit was outlandishly garish, and she couldn't exactly tell what he even did at this carnival, but for some reason the stand was able to catch her attention more than the rest of this place, so she hesitantly came closer while trying to figure out what this place was.
Re: [Valtoria, memory] Small Wagon, Big Question
Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 1:32 pm
by Thomas
Thomas liked his location this time around. He was posted toward the back of the carnival. Magnus' reasoning was that people saw the flashy sign right away, but then needed time to work up their courage to come up and ask their heartfelt questions. If the fortuneteller was posted at the front, people were far more glib, asked fewer questions, and didn't linger, which meant fewer farthings changing hands. As a bonus, he could see people as they entered and keep an eye out for anyone unusual.
He'd had his eye on this customer from the start, assuming she was even a customer. She hadn't bought anything. She all but recoiled from the dancehall, and wrinkled her nose at the food and drink. She didn't seem interested in the game of chance or other entertainment options. As she picked her way to the back toward him, he wondered if she'd just never seen entertainment before. In theory, he should be happy at the prospect of an easy mark, but it hardly seemed sporting to fleece someone who didn't even know the rules of engagement. Rules and fairness didn't matter when stacked against survival, but he wasn't struggling right now. Magnus was not overly generous, but he was not stingy, and Thomas was not worried about where his next meal was coming from. He could afford a bit of generosity.
As she approached his fortune telling enclosure, he hesitated on how to make the initial sell. Altair's style was usually more booming and expansive, but Thomas sensed with this latest customer that this wasn't the way to go. If he let his voice boom or thunder, she'd just retreat. So instead, he tried his best friendly smile, waving her over like she was an old friend.
"Futures Foretold and Pasts Prognosticated, my lady," he said with a suitably foreign looking bow and an accent that was a mish-mash of half a dozen of the cultures far to the South of Daravin. Altair was supposed to be from Icheron, after all; he had to be exotic and strange or what was the point of this stupid costume? "Please come in if you wish for answers."
He thought his pavilion looked suitably odd. He had a curtain he put down for privacy when he was a customer that was thick enough that it muffled the sounds of reeling and merriment from outside. His wagon made up one of the walls and also provided much of the structure; the rest was held up with poles borrowed from Magnus. He'd gone with a moon and stars motif, as that seemed non-specifically foreign, and the glitter looked good when hit with light from the lens. He lit up the lens when he was working on a question via a relatively simple oil lamp stashed under the table. The smell was covered up with incense, and the light disguised by the milky glass of his crystal. It lit up the planetary bodies painted on the inside walls of the tent and made them sparkle, which really added to the whole effect in his opinion. As a side effect, it helped those who were here for more earthly reasons see his musculature.
With Altair's normally expansive personality modulated for his new audience, he felt ready. He couldn't help but feel a frisson of excitement as he wondered what sort of question such a shy young lady would have, but resigned himself to the fact that she was probably mooning over a boy just like almost everyone else who came.
Re: [Valtoria, memory] Small Wagon, Big Question
Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 3:17 pm
by Asphodel Avarice
As much as she tried not to look out of place she felt like it, too nervous for her own good probably. The longer she thought about it, the more she realized her behaviors probably looked odd if this was some form of entertainment. Yeah, no, that really wouldn't do. She'd have to remember to do better next time, unless she was trying to get herself into trouble. At least nothing seemed to be going wrong yet. This man without the shirt called her over, motioning in a way that sought her attention. Fortune telling. Asphodel wasn't sure if she believed in such a thing. There were a great many strange magics in this world. She was a perfect example. In all her years though, and the stories she'd heard from traveler after traveler, she'd never heard of one that could with much certainty predict the future. Perhaps one existed, perhaps it didn't, but if that was the case why would someone with so grand a magic be here of all places? Surely, if your average person had a magic that strong they would have found a way to live in the lap of luxury no doubt!
And yet.
As of late, it always seemed to come down to that one little phrase. And yet. Her curiosity bubbled under the skin ferociously as she looked at this strange man and his strange pavilion. Whatever foreign charms it had were decidedly lost on Asphodel who probably couldn't tell foreign from native if her life was on the line. It still intrigued her though, as all things with a moon and star motif tended to do. Long ago in her childhood years, all the way back when she'd first escaped those researchers, if she thought hard enough then she could just so vaguely remember that it'd been night when she escaped. That it was the starts and moon and limitless sprawling darkness that had greeted those childish eyes. Not the same kind of darkness that lived in that awful place, cold and dripping and heinous. It'd been a rich kind of darkness that'd chilled and settled along her spine and had left her with her first taste of a feeling she could only describe as peace. Some childish part of her that could wonder and dream, some whimsical piece of her that was still alive in spite of everything, it marveled at the shine and pushed her just a little bit farther and a little bit farther until she'd managed to step inside.
That left her in entirely different predicament though. A question. If this was a fortune telling booth then she'd expected to be asked a question, but what questions did she even have? Her most prominent questions in life were usually if she'd have food to eat in the morning or if the next day would finally be the one where she took a hit that was just a little too hard and didn't get back up. Of course she wondered if this would be the life time she completed her Purpose like all rathor tended to, but she hardly even understood what that purpose was. Skewed by a ceremony that was just a little too early, her only guess was that it had something to do with magic considering the twinge of glee she got whenever she was practicing and the her innate desire to try seeking out initiations in more, more, more.
Those weren't very good questions though. A question wasn't a very good questions if you could answer it yourself. These were all things in Asphodel's own hands rather than chance or fate. She had no questions. Right? No, wait, that wasn't exactly true. Again her memories snagged on that distant past against an old question that boiled at the back of her throat for years like an acidic poison. It was a stupid one, but even now, even all these years later, it was a question that sometimes haunted her.
"Am I ever going to meet my birth family?" She finally blurted out, the words almost burning her on their way out. It was a question she'd never asked before, she'd never even admitted it to her angel, how it seemed to mock her with its presence and her complete lack of understanding. "I just, I want to know, there are so many things I want to ask them! Did they give me up on purpose? Was it an accident? Do they even miss me? Would they even know me?" Even Asphodel could hear the half shattered desperation in her own voice as she recoiled slightly. She dug the nails of her right hand into her left as she fiddled with her fingers, unable to keep them still. "I apologize, that's probably a stupid question," she said, laughing at herself, tone bitter sweet as she tilted her head to the side. Gaze looking through this stranger more than at him. "Asphodel. That's the name I had to pick for myself. Really, that right there should be well enough an answer," she huffed. Her poster slacked, not quite defeated but noticeably miserable.
Such a stupid, stupid question.
Re: [Valtoria, memory] Small Wagon, Big Question
Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 5:01 pm
by Thomas
Altair's broad smile faltered a bit as as Asphodel's questions hit Thomas full in the gut. This wasn't a question about love, or hair growth, or money. This was personal, important. One that he himself had struggled with for the entirety of his childhood and adolescence, one that he still thought about now from time to time.
"W-well," Altair stammered, before recovering. "You shall have a seat, and we shall see what the future holds." He didn't bother flexing or otherwise showing off his body as he put his hands on the crystal ball and used one foot to light the oil lamp so that it began to glow; clearly Asphodel wasn't here for that, and if she was interested in that at all, she made no sign of it.
Normally, he closed his eyes as if in deep concentration, but this time he left his eyes open, looking at the young woman. Clearly not well off, based just on her clothes, and she was not fashionably svelte so much as was whip thin. Food was either scarce or she was caring for others who were less fortunate, and he suspected the former. Actually rather pretty, in a striking, dramatic sort of way, but he had the feeling that if he flirted with her, she'd just be confused, or get upset, so the way out of this was not going to be a distracting non-answer.
As the glow of the crystal ball lit up the moons and stars around the pavilion and made them glitter, Thomas thought about what Altair should say.
"I wish, my lady, that I could say you would. The future is not a single path, however, but a branching, winding river."
He made the ball glow brighter, because if the answer was going to suck, at least he had some showmanship left to give.
"I can only say that they are not looking for you, Asphodel. Might you find them, if you were to search? Yes. To do so, though, will require much time, and traveling far beyond the familiar and the comforting. You may do all this, and still not find them." He let the ball dim, then go dark and bowed his head. "That is all I can say upon this matter," Altair rumbled.
Thomas couldn't leave it alone, though. He didn't care at this moment about giving up the act. He held out his hand for her to take if she wished, and proceeded in a voice far less dramatic, and closer to his normal one. "Without using my sight, my lady Asphodel, may I offer you some more advice? As someone who is also without a family, quite alone, what I would say is: knowing them will not make you whole. Seek them out if you are curious, but if they are to come back into your life as you are now, it will not correct their absence when you were small. I have long since given up looking for mine, and I do not regret that decision. If you move forward with looking for them, know that not only will the journey be difficult, but the results may be unsatisfactory."
"As for the rest: likely, it was on purpose; people do not simply lose track of their offspring, and they do not give them up unless they have no choice. Likely, they do regret it, and they do miss you. Likely, they would not know you if they saw you. Likely, they would like to know you, if you were to be introduced."
Re: [Valtoria, memory] Small Wagon, Big Question
Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 5:28 pm
by Asphodel Avarice
She'd be lying if she said the answers didn't have a certain sting to them. Though, not as badly as they could have. These were things that she'd spent years telling herself after all! She didn't need to be told this. When they came from the mouth of someone else though, the words felt more solid. Strangely tangible. She knew what Daravin was like. She knew the way that magic was lauded. Even Daravin even was her birth place, she had no doubts that magic had to do with the fact she'd never met her parents in her life. Family was important to rathor, painfully so, but something you also learned early on was the difference between family you're born with and family you find.
Asphodel lacked both.
She was lonely and so very hungry in more ways than one. The rathor who'd raised her took care of her by merit of race alone, but they'd never been her family. They trained her how to stay alive but she'd never been her family. There wasn't a creature in the Badlands she could dare to call family. No parents, no siblings, not biological, not chosen. The root of that desperation and that hope came from a slight resignation that family just, it wasn't something she'd ever be able to create. Her hands too weak and shivering from the weight of the word. There was a part of her that still wanted to hope. That still wished she could find some scrap of a biological family as to not feel so achingly alone against the world that was far from kind. This man's words though, went down like a bitter medicine. Awful in taste, making her feel worse, but maybe there'd be a future where those words made her feel better.
"Thank you, sir. That isn't much fortune telling, but I think we're both pretty aware of the fact that I wasn't really coming here for that. So I thank you instead for the worth of your words and not whatever clairvoyance you might be selling," she said. For the first time since she'd approached, she gave a genuine smile. A little tired, a little sad, but it was still there as weary as it was. Still alive.
She paused for a moment, teeth digging into the corner of her bottom lip.
"I have one more question for you. If you have none yourself, then you know how much this ache hurts right? How lonely it feels. It's not completion I'm seeking so to speak. I am who I am, I am whole in the person that I've become. While there are days that I still stumble if I look into glass then I can honestly say that I'm proud of the girl staring back at me in the reflection. It still hurts though, because I'm not a creature that's supposed to be alone. Even if my family has nothing to do with my Purpose or feeling complete... Is it not cruel for a rathor to be alone? So then, tell me this, how do I find people? How do I find a new family? How do I stop feeling this painfully, distressingly, achingly alone?" Her voice shivered miserably as it cut off with a crack at her final word. Her smile hadn't left her, but her eyes had started to well with tears as she held a little tighter onto this stranger's hands.
How stupidly easy it was to have a breakdown here. Of course there was shame, but the sounds of the world around them were muffled by the pavilion and she didn't know how much longer she could struggle along holding onto the weight of these words. Shameful as it was, maybe this was the first time she'd ever been in a place deemed safe enough to ask these kinds of questions. "It really isn't fair!" Laughter bubbled up from something small and wounded as she shook her head, smile growing just a little wider as the tears ran across her cheeks. "It really, really isn't fair!"
Re: [Valtoria, memory] Small Wagon, Big Question
Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 9:58 pm
by Thomas
Normally, Thomas rolled his eyes when they cried and trusted Altair to provide soothing comfort. This time, though, it was Altair who was out of his depth. He was meant to be a showpiece and a showman, not answer actual questions about what it meant to be alive. So Thomas dropped the persona entirely, becoming himself in Altair's costume.
He had to admit, it was nice to stop flexing his abs, to allow his posture to slump a bit. He got up and rummaged through a box near the entrance to his wagon to produce a small handkerchief for her. It was slightly perfumed, packed as it was in the same box with the incense he used for Altair's act. Normally, this was reserved for big customers who wanted to untangle thorny romantic questions, but hopefully Asphodel could appreciate it, as well.
"My lady, everyone who comes to have their fortune told aches. Some yearn for love, others for money, and others, like you, for somewhere to belong. To be alive is to ache, an it will always be part of you. I would not recommend seeking to fill it up until it's all gone, as you will find it endlessly expansive. Many people seek to fill that same ache with sex, or drink, or money, and ruin themselves in the process. Instead, I recommend that you accept that you grew up without a family, and that this fact will not change no matter what you do. Perhaps, you can seek to make a home for yourself, and fill it with people who you love, and let that love soothe the void. Perhaps, like me, you could seek simply to travel. The excitement and terror of not knowing what the next day brings can distract from the hurt. Other than that, I'm afraid, I don't have much in the way of advice. In this, as in many things, you must make your own way. No matter what else happens, remember that you are alive, and that every day you are alive is a victory."
Re: [Valtoria, memory] Small Wagon, Big Question
Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 10:34 pm
by Asphodel Avarice
Asphodel took the handkerchief gratefully with another sharp, shuddery kind of breath. Jerkily she pressed it against her face, almost half hiding in it as she dabbed at the tears making their way sluggishly down her cheeks. The scent was sharp and strong, but in a sweeter way than the rest of the world around them. It was comforting in a strange way as she took a moment to just hunch over into herself and breath. Trying to regain her composure.
She nodded as he spoke, movements jerky. "Yeah, I suppose you have a point," she said, the emotional high finally sinking into a crash as her body became languid with fatigue.
Even the group who'd raised her as a child, they hadn't been her family. They'd cared for her sure, raised her, but she existed on the fringes of that group, dipping in and out of it as need be. Occasionally crossing paths after she left then a seventeen. They were the ones to hold her ceremony, eight days before she officially turned eighteen because if she didn't do it then when was she ever going to see them again? A mistake, everything considered, but she'd been right. She hadn't seen them since. The taught her everything they could. The old bear beastalt taught her how to fight with a sword and her fists, the younger rabbit neoalt taught her how to mend wounds and make the most out of little, but none of them had ever been family. She was alone. From moment one except for her angel she'd always been alone, and that hurt, but this stranger. Even she had to admit he was kind of right.
"Thank you again for your words," she said, finally getting her breathing back to its normal pace. Her smile this time was a little more sweet than it was bitter as she handed back the handkerchief. She reached into her pocket and gently set down some farthings on the table before standing almost shakily. "If fate so graces it, maybe the two of us will even cross paths again!" She said, bowing slightly to this strange but empathetic man. She had a lot to think about.
When she left, her mind on simultaneously too much and nothing all, she disappeared into the crowd. Melting into it with a lot more grace now that she wasn't thinking about herself too much. Just like that she was gone, as though she'd never been there to begin with.
Re: [Valtoria, memory] Small Wagon, Big Questions
Posted: Thu Jan 20, 2022 5:25 pm
by Fortuna
YOUR REVIEW❊
Asphodel
Lores
Psychology: Assessing Your Own Trauma
Psychology: Somebody Telling You Something Makes It Stick
Stealth: Not Talking If Your Accent Sounds Abnormal
Stealth: A Human Usually Blends In Better Than A Rathor
Stealth: Using Clothes Not To Stand Out
Stealth: Using Clothes To Obscure Marks
Stealth: What Causes You To Stand Out In A Crowd
Stealth: What Allows You To Blend In With A Crowd
Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Points 8 XP nonmagical
Comments: I was surprised that Asphodel was so kind there at the end, after the outburst she had. But you wrapped it up very nicely. Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thomas
Lores
Rhetoric: Speaking Eloquently
Rhetoric: Discussing Hard Truths
Psychology: Basic Knowledge of Abandonment and Trauma
Psychology: Rathor characteristics and cultural values (basic)
Engineering: Basic Light Manipulation Using a Lens
Cosmetology: Exotic Makeup and Costuming
Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Points 8 XP nonmagical
Comments: I loved this in particular "No matter what else happens, remember that you are alive, and that every day you are alive is a victory." I thought that was beautifully said.