• PM To Join • As one season ends, we look to the future

[Faith Augustin]

[img]/gallery/image ... ge_id=3250[/img]

"Velma?" she asked with a grin and a chuckle and a shake of her head "In all my arcs, I have never held such a name, I promise you. I will wear it with pride" It was a strange thing, she thought this was a friendly young man and yet he seemed hurt in a way that was much deeper than the scarring. Much deeper. But it was not hers to discuss or ask about and she kept quiet on it. He didn't respond to her point about feeling guilty and she didn't push it, there was no point to. She had said what she said and that was that. It was hard, there was no doubting; difficult to feel this guilt and to wonder and worry about what had happened and what could have been or even should have been. It was not her place to try and understand him, but she hoped that perhaps having someone who spoke of it honestly might help him.

"A horse farm? Oh that sounds wonderful. I had never ridden a horse before travelling to Andaris a few trials ago. I went with a man who told me that h thought that horses understood common. It was odd. I tried to make sure that I spoke to the horse every trial after that, in case he was right, and the horse seemed to be quite pleased with it all told. I do not think it understood, but it liked the sound of a voice" She was still mostly convinced that Lord Venora had been teasing her or was mad, but it could not be denied that she believed it more after getting to know horses better than she had before she had met them. "I was raised and trained in Athart, but I was not ever really allowed outside, so I do not know what it is like. When I first went to Venora, I was amazed at all the trees and grass. It was beautiful" she smiled at him, thinking back. "It sounds like a wonderful place to grow up"

One might expect a slave to sound wistful or envious, but Faith did not. She did not really have it in her to be such and, besides, why would coveting what someone else had ever be something that she would do? It seemed entirely illogical to her so she did not do it. People seemed to spend a lot of time wishing for what others had and Faith saw no sense in that, preferring to focus on who she was and where she was.

"Master is a sculpter and an artist" she said with a smile, pride evident on her face. "He writes plays, too. He is very artistic, indeed" she said. "Here we are" and indeed the only thing that made the house stand out was the obsessive level of clean that it was, should Aeon notice such things. It was not just clean, it was cleaned by an individual who put a lot of stock in things being perfect. She opened the door and smiled at Aeon.

"Master? Are you here?" she asked, hopeful that he was and safe. "Master? A very kind squire helped me carry things home" she said, looking for Tristan as she ushered Aeon in.

[Tristan Venora]

While Faith had gone to buy cooking supplies as well as acquire a few other much needed things, Tristan had decided to stay at home and paint a little. He was trying to make a painting of the shadow beast he had killed the trial before as it was best to do such things when the memory was still fresh. If the painting turned out alright, he decided, he would frame it, put it on a wall and show it to everybody that visited him and tell them of his heroic deed. In his opinion people didn’t admire him nearly enough.

He was just deciding which shade of red would be best for the chain of entrails that had been hanging out of the beast’s maw, when he heard the sound of the door being opened. He immediately put his brush away and hastily tried to clean up the mess he had made on the table a little in case it was an important visitor, such as his grandmother or his cousin Alistair. To his relief the voice he had heard belonged to his slave.

As she asked him if he was there, he hesitated for a moment before he replied, in a voice that he hoped sounded at least halfway like the one of his half-brother, “No, Tristan is not here. He decided to go and play cards with his questionable friends and allowed me to stay at his place in the meantime so that I could paint in peace. I love Ruq with all my heart, but he doesn’t appreciate my art at all.“ He said the last sentence in a very exasperated tone of voice, and then he stepped forward to reveal himself, smiling all over his face as he did so.

At the moment he was wearing black pants and a very fashionable yellow shirt, although the shirt had a few unfortunate red stains here and there as he hadn’t been careful enough with the paint. His dark hair was a mess, and he didn’t have any shoes on, in short he didn’t look at all like what people usually expected a noble lord to look like. What more, he seemed to be incredibly self-confident and proud of his unusual appearance.

“Was I any good?“ he asked Faith and looked at her hopefully. “I’ve been practicing my acting skills. I want to get better so that I will eventually be able to star in my own plays.“

Having said that, he turned to Aeon. Whereas most people would have avoided looking at his scars and been somewhat uncomfortable, Tristan was looking right at them. His fascination was obvious. “Thanks for helping my slave“, he said. “Please come in for a moment.“ He gestured towards the door before he abruptly asked, “Are these scars real by the way, and how did you get them?“

[Aeon]

Aeon smiled at Faith's, no, Velma's comment, and even though it was all so ridiculous, he enjoyed the fact that they weren't calling each other by their actual names. That allowed Aeon to think that he wasn't a cripple in Faith's eyes, just as she wasn't a slave in his own. Well, Fred wasn't a cripple, and Velma wasn't a slave. It all had that deeper layer of meaning, one that old Aeon would definitely never understand.

"You know, horses can enjoy the voices of people, even if they don't understand the words. My father could spend hours talking to our horses, and I remember how happy they would be afterwards." Aeon said, as he chuckled to the woman's story. What kind of person would actually think horses understood common? That truly made the young squire consider the way he viewed the people of Rynmere. And then she mentioned Athart. He heard of Athart somewhere, and yet he couldn't remember where. There was mention of the horrible winged species that deserved to be exterminated, yes, now he could remember, it was that man with one wing that told him that.

"I am truly sorry you had to live through Athart Velma, I'm just glad you've been found by a master who is not like that to you." He said, with no pity in his eyes. He realized something while talking to the woman. Everything that happened to a person during their life made them who they are today, and so if that person is pleased with who they are today, they must have accepted all that had happened to them during their life. If they accepted it, the least Aeon could do was accept it too. Soon after his words, they reached the house, and as they entered, the young squire felt strange for several trills.

The words Faith spoke weren't the ones Aeon expected from a slave, she appeared as though she was speaking to her brother, or at least a good friend, and not to the person that owned her entirely. And then came the reason for it. As the sculptor's words came from the other room, Aeon's mouth opened in a strange fashion, as he gasped for air. Those words were most definitely not the ones he was expecting from a noble. As the two of them spoke to each other, the young squire nearly dropped all of the bags on the floor.

Tristan was messy, and free, and completely strange, which was so incredible, considering he was a noble, of the Venora house at that. He reminded Aeon of himself, with less paint on his shirt, and more dirt, and with blond instead of brown hair. He listened to the noble, and came in, but then, to his surprise, he asked about the scars. Tristan seemed eccentric, and weird, and yet in one single moment, he turned serious, and his question shook Aeon on some deeper level.

He didn't know whether the noble was joking, but because of his expression, the scarred squire presumed not. What kind of person would joke about the missing skin on his face, and the hand that was left out from his arm? Then he tried answering, but no actual words would come to mind. Everything Aeon wanted to say seemed either just plainly wrong, or inappropriate for the room he was in, and the people he was with.

"Yes, Lord, they are very real." He said with a smile on his face. There wasn't a reason to be sad about what had happened, because if he didn't have those scars, he would have never met Velma, nor her master. "It is a complicated story, lord, one I doubt you have time for" Aeon said, referring to Tristan without the possession in his title. Ever since he met Celeste, he wasn't saying "my" in front of any of the titles he gave to nobles. The sculptor wasn't Aeon's, so why would he say he was 'his' lord? Exactly, it was illogical.

[Faith Augustin]

[img]/gallery/image ... ge_id=3250[/img]

He had said that he was going to paint the shadow beast that he had killed before she left and Faith had nodded and smiled. Why anyone would want to do so was beyond her and, somehow, one would think that she had not been there holding the thing still for him, she considered. But that was an inappropriate thing to think and she tried to not think it.

Mostly she managed it.

Then, when they got back he had nearly finished it and Faith felt a very genuine concern that he was going to put that painting up on the wall. He was, she was sure, display it somewhere prominently and proudly. By Famula, she considered, she was going to have to clean it, probably with her eyes open so that she did it properly. But then, she heard his voice and Faith could not help but smile at her owner. "It was very good, Master. I was not sure at all who you were. I especially liked how you sounded very frustrated at Ruq's lack of understanding or appreciation of your art". She smiled back at him and she was, very obviously, delighted to see him. He was so pleased with himself and proud that she could not help but find it adorable.

She moved to put the things away whilst Fred and Master spoke and she listened to their conversation with a slight smile on her face. Tristan Venora was a unique and wonderful man and Faith knew that sometimes people found his blunt nature difficult. She did not think that Fred would and, lo and behold, he did not. He answered and as she put things away, she pulled out a plate and put some of the honey cakes that she had made onto it. They were soft and very moist, because of how she baked them and, alongside the honey there was the slightest taste of lemon to cut through the sweetness. Her baking was getting better and better, she knew and she also knew that these tasted pretty good ~ and that was because of her growing understanding of layering tastes in baking. The slight hint of lemon was just enough to stop the cakes from being over sweet and also to give them a depth of flavour which simple cakes did not normally have.

So, lemon honey cakes and she put the kettle on to make tea. "Shall I serve some tea and cakes, Master?" she asked, ready to do so. There was tea, of course, or wine as needed and she smiled as she awaited further instruction.

[Tristan Venora]

As Faith admitted that she hadn’t been sure who he had been, Tristan pouted (although he did appreciate that she thought the acting itself had been good). A moment later he smiled again though since such a small issue really wasn’t worth being angry over. “I was pretending to be Hart of course“, he informed her. “My half-brother“, he added for Aeon’s sake since he doubted that the scarred man was familiar with the Venora family and their complicated relationships and countless bastards. “He looks exactly like me. Ruq’s his boyfriend. He is a bit weird, but he has an astonishingly high tolerance for alcohol which more than makes up for his shortcomings.“

“Oh“, he made as Aeon informed him that the scars were in fact real. For a moment he was tempted to touch them, but then he decided not to since that might make the man uncomfortable. Even he knew that you just didn’t randomly grope people’s faces. “I wasn’t sure if they were. They look quite terrible“, he said as if that was a great thing, a thing to be proud of. “Anyway, I’d love to hear your story. Maybe you could also tell me what happened to your hand? I have more than enough time. In fact I have the rest of the trial in case the story is particularly complicated.“ He smiled as he said that and gestured for Aeon to take a seat at the table before he quickly put the rest of his painting supplies away.

If Aeon decided to take a look around, he would find that the noble’s house was, while it was a little plain for a man of his station, quite neat, mostly thanks to Faith. Before Tristan had bought her, it had been a mess though since he considered things such as cleaning unnecessary and had usually just put his things wherever there had been room.

“Please do that, Faith“, he spoke as his slave asked him whether she should serve tea and cakes. “And then sit with us and pour yourself a cup as well.“ Having said that, he turned back to Aeon and asked him, “So, anyway, what’s your name? I don’t really want to call you ‘Scarface‘ and ‘squire‘ seems a little impersonal since there are so many of them. I think cousin Andráska is a squire as well.“ He broke off and furrowed his brow a little and then remarked, “Or maybe he’s already a knight.“

“I’m really not sure. My family are quite confusing.“

[Aeon]

Fulfilling every meaning of the word, Tristan was strange. His half-brother looked exactly like him, for starters. How was that even possible? That shouldn't be possible, not in Aeon's eyes. Even with the little science he knew, it was clear that such a thing should not exist in nature, two brothers only by one parent being exact lookalikes.

Then, came the other thing. The lord spoke about someone else being weird? Could he not see himself in the mirror? What could possibly make this Ruq person weirder than Tristan? And then the final thing that made the young squire decide how the lord was slowly losing his mind. In what world did being able to drink excessive amounts of alcohol without getting drunk make every other bad trait a person had suddenly disappear? It was nonsense, and yet Aeon kept smiling and nodding at the lord's words.

"Alright." Aeon answered the lord's proposal to sit and talk about the 'terrible-looking' scars. What did he mean by that? The scarred squire was so astonished by every little quirk the lord had he could barely stop his jaw from falling open. It was impolite to let your jaw fall to the surprisingly clean floor, right? Wait a trill.. Aeon thought, as he looked upon the floor beneath his chair. The man seemed to be a mess, and yet his house was so perfectly polished. Velma must have been an extraordinary slave to manage all of those things.

Now that the boy was thinking about Velma, he felt awfully bad for her, seeing how just a moment ago he was helping her, talking with her, and not her master. Aeon wondered if she felt somehow rejected because of that, because if she did, the young squire would surely leave Tristan to go and speak with her, or help her out. Help her out with what, came a sudden voice of realization. He couldn't help everyone with everything, and this woman was a slave her entire life. She was used to it, she knew how to do it, and Aeon would only be an obstacle.

"I'm Aeon." He said, bowing his head as much as the table in front of him would allow him. The scarred boy barely squeezed those words in the middle of the lord's rambling, as he didn't appear to be running out of things to talk about. One thing just came after another, and if he waited, Aeon would be trapped in an endless circle of listening to Tristan. As he thought about it, he wished for the beast to come back, to eat him alive. Anything but listening to some crazed noble's random stories. Was he even educated by nobles, or raised by squirrels? Celeste wasn't anything like Tristan, and the young squire wondered if it was because of the house they were raised in. Were all Venoras so out of their minds?

It took the young one several bits to figure out the way he wanted to phrase his sentences to make the most believable, but also true story, because those things didn't appear to mix, seeing how rarely anyone ever believed the young one he actually battled the monster and survived. "Well, I was in the front lines of the battle for Andaris, when that horrible thing came. It was like a larger hound with two heads, and it didn't seem to be stopping." He said, because he doubted that he noble would believe him if he said something along the lines of: Well, I punched a skyrider, stole a Volareon and landed in the middle of the field where an enormous 1000 pound monster made by the wrath of all Immortals was eating through the Qe'dreki without issues.

"So I shot at it with several arrows, and hit one of them." Three of them, with one being in the neck and the other in the eye, and it didn't seem to leave a scratch." Aeon so badly wanted to tell the truth, but he was cursed with the truth being his own secret, now, and forever. If he went around telling people the truth, he'd be branded as a madman before long, and even if he was believed, the smallfolk of Rynmere could not know it existed. There would be mass panic, seeing how the thing was invincible and untouchable.

"But there was nothing I could do to stop it, and then this happened." Aeon mumbled, as he pointed at his face, and the missing eye. If the noble, or the slave, were carefully observing him, they would be able to spot him as a liar without much trouble. Still, it was where he stopped his story, hoping the man was satisfied with the answers he got, even though the young squire believed that it wouldn't be the end of Tristan's questions. The boy felt rather uncomfortable while talking about the exact details of the story, so he tried to avoid getting into the little things regarding the battle.

[Faith Augustin]

[img]/gallery/image ... ge_id=3250[/img]

"Oh, my apologies, Master" she said with a shake of her head "I mean I did not know who you were out of you and Hart. I was sure that you were one of the two of you, but I did not know which one" Her explanation was honest and she smiled at him, hoping that he understood her better, now. She did not want him to think that she had been unsure who he was at all - that would be horrid.

Fred and Master were quickly engaged in conversation and Master instructed her with what he wanted. She dropped a curtsy and she put the kettle on, then continued putting away the purchases that she had made whilst the kettle boiled. Once she had the tea and cakes made for the two of them, she served them the cakes and the tea, making sure that she did not get in the way of them and their conversation. If she was at all put out that Fred had stopped speaking to her and was speaking to her owner, she did not show it even vaguely. It was not something that bothered her in truth, it was what she had expected and what she was used to.

So, once she had made sure that they had everything in front of them that they might want, including the cakes, she did as instructed and poured herself a cup of tea then moved and sat with the two of them. She pulled out the chair next to Tristan and sat, putting her cup down in front of her and then sat with her hands folded and listened to the two of them speak. She watched Aeon as he spoke and she wondered at how very different he sounded and looked. He seemed uncomfortable, she thought, like he wasn't confident in what he was saying. Was that because he was leaving out some information, she wondered, or was it because he was talking to a noble? Whichever it was, she contented herself with sitting quietly and keeping an eye on the two of them so that she could top up their tea and so on as needed.

[Tristan Venora]

"Tristan", the noble said as Aeon introduced himself. "Venora", he added because he was proud of his social status despite all the things that were wrong with his relatives (or perhaps because of them!), and then he furrowed his brow ever so slightly as something occurred to him. "But you probably already know that, right?" He cast a glance at Faith, wondering what exactly they had talked about while he had accompanied her home. Had she mentioned that her master belonged to one of the most dysfunctional families in all of Idalos or wisely kept that fact a secret until the last possible moment?

Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – Tristan was completely unaware of the fact that Aeon was already entertaining thoughts of suicide by monster. As the squire told his story, the noble listened attentively and smiled as if it was the most wonderful and exciting story ever and not something that had nearly cost a man his life. He even leaned a bit closer so that he could hear the squire better. "Did the hound also have two tails?" he wanted to know. His eyes shimmered brightly. The young man had a penchant for gruesome horror stories, although he had never actually participated in any of those horrors himself, quite unlike his older cousin Alistair.

"And could they move independently?" he continued as he was quite interested in monster anatomy. As Faith served the tea and the cake he momentarily stopped speaking, gave her a nod of thanks and then took a bite. "It’s delicious", he informed Aeon. "You should try it! Faith is the best cook in Rynmere!"

Having said that, looked at his slave who had quietly taken a seat next to them and remarked, "If you want to ask Aeon something, feel free!" Unlike most slave owners Tristan allowed his slave to participate in the conversations with his guests occasionally because slaves were people, too.

"I’m not sure if there’s anything that can be done about the missing eye", he said to Aeon and took a sip from his tea because all the talking made him thirsty. For a moment he actually sounded all serious and professional. "But I’m pretty sure I could make you a nice prosthetic hand, although it may not be very functional. So, anyway …" he continued, changing the topic again abruptly as he often did, "How did you kill the hound? You must have killed it or at least chased it away since you are still alive."

[Aeon]

The smile on Tristan's face made Aeon feel rather uncomfortable, as if he was mocked for his story, but the young squire knew better than to assume that way. The noble did not appear to be of the mocking type, at least not in someone's face. It was probably yet another one of his odd quirks, smiling at horrifying monster stories, and such. How far did Tristan go with his strangeness?

"N..no, one tail. Completely bone, no flesh or skin." Aeon said, with a strange tingling in his words. Why did the tails interest the noble? The tail wasn't of the great importance for the beast, and it didn't seem too bothered when Aeon poked it in it. Then he kept going, only to be interrupted once more by a far more intriguing question from Tristan. It was something that bothered Aeon for the longest time. The beast didn't seem to be sentient, it didn't seem to think clearly, or at least, altogether it didn't.

"Yes, actually. They could move and think independently, or so it seemed. They looked like they were fighting over which one of them got the food. It was highly strange." The scarred squire said to answer the lord's question, but just as the soft sounds left his mouth, the man offered him a bite of the cake. Tristan's words seemed to be truthful, and his reaction to the cake was more than believable, so Aeon decided to try it out. He still had his doubts about a slave being the best cook in Rynmere.

Just one bite, it was all it took for all of the little nerves to jump inside of Aeon's body. It was the greatest piece of cake he had ever experienced within himself. It just seemed so perfect, and the young squire was shivering along his spine just from the pleasure it gave him. Aeon hadn't experienced sex, only heard about it, but as far as he knew, this cake could be measured with it. It flooded the young one's throat as he grabbed the cup of tea to ease all of the feelings within his body.

As he poured the hot liquid into his mouth right after the wonderful sweet, the scarred squire looked upon the noble as he heard his opening words. Why was he talking about the injuries again all of a sudden? And not a trill after asking himself that, Aeon was made to nearly spit all of the tea within his mouth straight into the noble. Luckily, the tea barely left the closed gates which the boy's thin lips represented. Sure, he got some of it on his shirt, but at least it wasn't the new cloak he bought.

"Lord? Are..are you sure about that.. a - a prosthetic hand.." He mumbled, just as he heard the man's words. The next sentence was easily disregarded, considering the importance of the first one. Could the man in front of him truly make a prosthetic hand? How would a prosthetic hand even work? How would it be attached to his skin? It was all so very confusing to Aeon, seeing how he never even delved into the possibility of a prosthetic hand. He was desperate enough to want one, that was sure .

After the prosthetic hand topic was relieved by either Aeon or Tristan, the boy would proceed to answer the question previously asked by the noble. "I didn't kill it, to be honest." He said, being fully honest now, even though the words that were about to come out of his mouth would make him feel embarrassed no matter the reaction from the lord. "It felled a building over me, and didn't seem too interested in uncovering all of the rocks."

[Faith Augustin]

[img]/gallery/image ... ge_id=3250[/img]

Tristan asked, as was his way, questions which many might consider over personal and too forthright. Faith did not feel any surprise at this at all as she more than expected it. However, when he said that she was the best cook in Rynmere, Faith did smile a slight and grateful smile to her owner, but said no more than that. He instructed her that she should feel free to ask any questions, and she nodded her head once "Thank you, Master" she said with her usual almost-whispered voice.

But the young slave did not speak any more than that because the two of them were talking and she had, in fairness, spoken to Aeon (Fred) before he had come here as they walked. She was unsure where the conversation was going to go, so she focused on keeping their tea cups filled and she paid attention to what both of them had to say. When Master offered to make Aeon (Fred) a prosthetic hand, Faith smiled at her owner with an expression of genuine fondness. He was a kind man there was no doubting it, no doubting it at all. As Fred spat his tea, she calmly simply handed him a napkin and said nothing about it. After all, Master had that effect now and then.

The sight of Aeon (Fred)'s face when Master spoke of the prosthetic hand, though, told a lot of just how much he wanted one. He seemed unsure of whether Master was able to do what he was offering, although Faith did not doubt it, not for a moment. After all, he was a genius when it came to sculpture and she had seen it at first hand that this was so. He created wonder with his hands and somehow he coaxed beauty from a most ordinary block of stone. When Aeon (Fred) asked if he could, Faith raised an eyebrow to Tristan, wondering if he wanted anything specific from her, in terms of bringing equipment or casts or anything. But she said nothing, for Master would do what was best to do in his own time. How it would attack was an interesting question, and she started to think about something that she could do, with her needlecrafting, which was fundamentally a sort of stretchy, skin tight sleeve. Later, if Master required it, she would talk to him about it.

He had not killed the beast. She knew that, of course, because he had told her previously but Faith's heart went out to him and she wished that she could make him feel better. But it was not her place so she sat, hands folded neatly together and moved only when she lifted her cup to her mouth to sip her tea or to refill their cups. There was a time to be chatty and there was a time to be quiet and she determined that, in this conversation which might be incredibly important to the young man who had helped her when he did not need to, now it was best if she was quiet and just let him and Master work out what might help him in the long run.