OPEN

[deceivingly]

WHO: Yevdokiya an Waslyna O Bearhold, Tiffany Hart, Matthias, maybe my other characters + YOU
WHAT: a humble open log
WHEN: Fantasy March
WHERE: the Gallows, Kirkwall, the Wounded Coast
NOTES: bath nudity, butchering a seagull, nothing worse atm

Comments

[inkindled]

"Matthias," Matthias says. It sounds a very ugly name when he says it in his ugly Free Marcher accent. Or maybe that's just because her voice sounds like birdsong. It's no wonder the cat has stilled its squalling. Who or what wouldn't, when talked to like that.

"The bells are for my girlfriend. Not--really for her, I don't mean she'll wear them. We have a cat. Or she does. She's called Biter. Oh, that's the cat. My girlfriend is called Laura. But I wanted to try the bells on a cat before I gave them to her--this one lives down in the kitchen, there's loads of them in there. And she was all right until the bells made a noise, and then she got scared, but I spent a great deal of coin on the bells, and I didn't want her to get hurt, or anything, but you can't really reason with a cat, can you? Or I can't. Reckon it seems like you can, m'lady."

[truthtied]

She listens dutifully. It's been some time since she's interacted so directly with a nervous teenager, but it's not such a far flung memory to miss what all of those words mean all together.

"It's very nice to meet you, Matthias," she says, untangling the little spitfire as she speaks. Her voice is gentle for the both of them, smile steady, "My name's Diana. You needn't trouble with a title, just Diana. And I'm sure Laura will love your gift." If not for itself, than surely for the boy's earnest nature. The kitchen cat gives a grumbling yowl, the complaint echoed in more concrete terms in her mind, "Yes, I'm sure Matthias will be incredibly intimidated by you in the future. You're very fast and clever. Isn't she."

She glances from the cat to Matthias with a slightly apologetic look. Cats didn't really have much to do with reason, but they did like posturing.

[inkindled]

"Diana," Matthias repeats readily. Hopefully he'll remember. Addressing her familiarly will be difficult, when she gives off some--something, something he feels but couldn't put into words.

His eyes jump to the cat as she speaks to it, then back to her, eagerly scanning her face.

"So you can," he says. Even those words practically trip over themselves. "You can understand her?"

[truthtied]

"I can, yes," she says, holding the cord out to Matthias once it's freed.

The cat settles back more comfortably in Diana's arms, giving a low throated meow that's degrees less offended and no less demanding. Diana scratches the cat's praeferred ear obligingly, "It seems to work differently than it did in my world, but I understand that's normal when it comes to powered individuals traveling through rifts. It is pleasant to know animals share a common language across dimensions."

[inkindled]

He winds the cord around his hand, the bells tinkling quietly with each twist of his wrist. His eyes are on the cat, and not on what he's doing, as he tries to make sense of what Diana is saying.

"It's magic, then?" A blunt guess. His voice is full of admiration; that will help a little.

[truthtied]

"More or less," she says with a nod. And then, because she has spent entierly too much of her life expecting a god to show up to create problems if not given their proper due: "It was a blessing. Given to me at my birth, by the goddess Artemis."

[inkindled]

He gives a low whistle.

"Dunno her, obviously--we've only got the Maker--but that's well brilliant. And you didn't even have to do anything for it besides. I'd cut off a finger to be able to talk with animals, it'd be so useful."

[truthtied]

She manages not to wince.

"I have been very fortunate in the blessings I have received from the gods," Which is meant more for any that might somehow be listening. Then to Matthias, with a gentle firmness, "But gods do not give their blessings without expectations. I would caution anyone against accepting power from beings who desire fealty or love. Or fingers as the case may be."

[inkindled]

"It'd just be one finger." With a cheeky little grin, Matthias holds up his hand, just his index finger extended.

Well, hang on--he switches to his little finger instead. Less likely to be missed. And yeah, he's taking the piss a little--he can tell she means it, and she's likely right, there's no such thing as a free nug, and that's not likely to be any less true when talking of power.

"I'm a mage," he assures her, "I know about responsible uses of power and all. What'd you have to give in exchange for yours, then--if it wasn't fealty or love?"

[truthtied]

She nods at his assurance. The bulk of her experience of this world comes via books, but given the amount that is both said and not said about the mages... Well. She believes him.

Her expression quirks a little at his question, trying for a smile and getting hung up on the complicated tangle of pain and love in her chest. "I don't think there is one sole thing I could point to and say that was what I exchanged. In truth, one could say my blessings were gifts to my mother, who had suffered much at the hands of gods and men long before my birth. There was love and fealty as well and my responsibility to the people under my protection. That can be it's own cost at times."

[inkindled]

Matthias' cheer dims a little. That sounds complicated. Which, when he thinks about it, makes sense. He had asked a complicated question. So this turn in the conversation is his fault a bit--more than a bit.

"Is your mother all right?" Now, that one's just a stupid question. But Matthias had asked it before he could stop himself. His ears go pink, embarrassed at his own clumsy stupidity. "Sorry. I-- suppose I don't know what to say, and that was the first thing I thought to say, so I-- said it. You're--a lady, then? Like the title?"

People under her protection implies that. A lady with magic that was got at a steep price, even if it was mostly paid by someone else. That's a new story.

[truthtied]

"Thank you. It's kind of you to ask after her," she says, a warm smile lighting up her face. She reaches out and sets her hand on Matthias' shoulder, firm and brief. "She is safe and well in my world."

Her nose wrinkles a little at the mention of a title. Very occasionally, Diana wishes she were at all inclined towards lying, "Ah well. My mother is considered Queen, so I was given the title of Princess, but it's hardly one I'd put any claim of power to."