• Closed • Pretty Petioles

[Doran Cooney]

On the sixth trial of Ashen in the 718th arc... Having only recently arrived in Andaris in anticipation of the foreign delegates' soon to be arrival, he'd come a bit early with most, fearing the weather might prove a formidable obstacle should it turn - though even on course, it was questionable whether or not the journey would prove too much for him. Having never been well equipped for the cold, even wrapped up in his cloak as he was, the chill had long since settled in, and his shivers had since become something of a subconscious state of being. He was fairly certain he could still feel his fingers, though clad in leather that had, some time ago, taken on similar qualities to ice of a more malleable nature, his certainty was speculative at best. Others who traveled the streets with more spring in their step and confidence in their trajectory passed him by with only a cursory, curious glance. Visitors to the capital were as commonplace as its residents, and his current chilled state was shared by local and visitor alike.

Though the city itself was not so foreign to him that he gawked at every little thing, the amount of time he'd spent within its towering walls and twisting streets was barely enough to alert one to the fact that he was, indeed, an inhabitant of Rynmere. While his eyes caught at storefronts and passersby, he found himself drawn towards a delicate looking bush who's leafs seemed to have lasted just long enough to find themselves delicately encased in a prison of glittering ice. The air was certainly cold enough that the rime had yet to melt, and he knelt down beside the plant's wooden pot, careful not to let his knee press into the cobbled stone beneath him.

The plant, along with several other more barren vessels of dirt and wood, sat seemingly abandoned in front of shop that, by its floral signage and lack of current patrons, seemed to be florist's of some kind. Though he only glanced through the large windows, there was no sign that there was anyone within, and the door was firmly shut - with the cold, he doubted he'd find any places with a door propped open in the typical, summery Venoran fashion he was accustomed to. Instead, he set his curiosity on the little plant, delighting in the way the light caught at the icy veins, refracted by the smooth surface into a myriad of different colors.

"You're quite beautiful, but I supposed you already know that, don't you?" He chuckled down at the glasslike plant, tilting his head to the side and pulling his knee a bit closer to his chest to conserve what little heat he had available to him. "I've heard it said that flowers are... delicate. But I would like to see a man stand as gracefully as you, encased in a hoary prison such as this, with but an iota of your decorum." There was a flicker of movement, and for a moment, he wondered if it was the plant that had moved. Edging his face a bit closer, he peered into the shadows, eyes bright with curiosity. Those passing had started to let their gazes linger a bit longer, now that there was a cloaked man speaking so convivially with a frozen plant, such as he. With all the worry and growing paranoia regarding the arcane, odd events were viewed with worry in the best cases and fear in the worst. Their eyes, of course, when unnoticed as Doran drew in even closer. "Hello?"

[Sinnammyn]

Ashan 6th, 718[/b]

Worn out, that's what Sinna was. She'd been up early again to-trial, and with all seriousness, she needed a trial for herself. What better way then, to spend her trial than to get lost in Andaris once more?

Sinna was once again dismayed by her capability of literally getting lost in a city that she'd been in for arcs. It was a wonder that she'd gotten all her nel back when she'd gone to find it all back when she'd moved in with Zane.

She had decided that she was going to take a nap with what looked like the only flower in town. If she remembered correctly, it was a Tiger Bearded Iris, yellow and purple leaves, almost like Pansy, but more striped, and a bit of a ruffle to its edges. She had sat down in the dirt, leaning against its stem. Her yellow hair easily looking like a baby bud near the bottom of the plant.

About a break later she was woken up by a man's voice. In her tiredness, her mind took the words in, hearing them and thinking that they were for her. Not the plant that she was leaning against. She stretched out yawning silently as she blinked the sleep away from her eyes. Slowly standing up and brushing herself off before freezing.

A man's voice? Didn't that mean that...Sinna slowly looked up, her black and gold eyes wide. A human staring right at her. She stumbled backwards and ran into the pot rim, causing herself to almost fall backwards. She ended up buckling her knees so that she would fall forward.

"W... Woah.. U.. Uh.. Haha..Hi there!"

She looked quite embarrassed as she slowly looked back up at the man that was staring down at her. He'd been staring right at her, those words, those compliments, Sinna looked to the flower. Of course they wouldn't have been for her. She was short, tiny, not strong at all. She gave the man a weak smile, while in the back of her mind, she hoped that this man was one of the good guys.

[Doran Cooney]

The little wooden creature's surprise was immediately mirrored in Doran's own startled, jerking withdrawal, eyes wide with astonishment as he realized he'd had absolutely no idea what to expect, only that the discovery of a spindly, elegant, doll-like woman was so very far from anything he could have expected, the was nothing left to him but shock. "Wh-"

The Tunäwä were not so exotic a creature that he had never heard of them before. In fact, they were supposedly a popular gift among the Venoran gentry. He didn't know very much along the lines of specifics, just that they were supposed to be quite aesthetic with blooming heads of flowery hair. As a child, he'd always wanted to see one - even before Lily had come along and joined him in his aspirations. They'd often conjectured what it might be like to find one of the little wooden people wandering about their sanctuary, how very fortunate they might be to come across one in the wild, as it were. But the little woman before him was a mixed bag of validation of supposition and restructuring of fact over the old scaffold of fiction. He'd always imagined them to be even smaller than she, with massive heads of hair, like some sort of sprawling, mobile garden of leafs and petals.

She before him was slender with little bits of moss and what seemed to have been leafs before the chill. Her "hair" was a faded yellow, a small collection of pale petals, more like the nubile but of a flower yet to bloom than the nest of would-be, could-be growth. Her voice too was surprisingly loud - not in the sense that she need no effort to compete with the voices of those larger than herself, but that he had no difficulty in hearing what it was she said. Flustered as she was, he was glad for the brief moment in which they were both allowed to recover from their own respective bewilderment. When she smiled, his returned, and he once more knelt down towards the plant's pot, though this time he kept a more polite, respectful distance. His eyes still wandered, even as he spoke, and he carefully noted the oddity of her slender limbs, the delicate crinkle of her leafs and petals, even the bright, golden gleam of her eyes.

"Doran Cooney, pleased to make your acquaintance, I hope." He moved to hold out his hand, but hesitated, uncertain as to what was the best course of action. Did Tunäwä settle for shaking a single finger? Did they shake at all? Perhaps it was a culture of polite bowing or whistling or even something more far fetched and foreign. From the manner in which she had replied to his vague "Hello?", he had no doubt she understood the common tongue. Questions buzzed about his mind, bouncing off of each other, and finding a new iteration with each ricochet. "Were you- did I disturb you? If so, I'm terribly sorry, I was just admiring the-" Certainly the miniature woman of bark was not a simpleton. "Well, at any rate, I'm glad to meet you. You're... Toon..." He struggled with the word, knowing it as something he'd read in his uncle's books and, never having had cause to pronounce it correctly, had settled on the simplistic "Too-nah-wha", which Lily had followed after. He didn't actually know the proper way to say it. "I've never meet someone like you before." He settled on a truth that didn't involve acrobatics of the tongue and epiglottis. With a warm smile, eyes alight with curiosity, he cocked his head, his wavy locks bouncing just slightly beneath the weight of his woolen hood. "Do we shake?"

[Sinnammyn]

Ashan 6th, 718[/b]

The silence that followed their greetings was filled with anxiety for the Tunawa. She was quite clearly scared. Had she made a mistake? What if he reached for her? Grabbed her like she had been in trials before. Caius had saved her that once, but there was no way she'd be that lucky twice.

The little bud quite visibly relaxed as she heard the man introducing himself, but jumped back a bit when she saw that he was starting to move his hand. Only to remember that she was on her knees and ended up slamming her back into the pot rim, landing on her rump and kicking her legs out. She winced, but didn't take her eyes off of the man. Searching for any sign of hostility.

She felt silly, being so worried, but now that she had a semblance of a goal, she didn't want it to be thwarted by just one human.

"I... was just.. finishing a nap. The flower? Yeah.. f.. for a moment I thought you'd been talking to me, my sleep boggled mind and all."

She laughed nervously and rubbed her arms. Before quickly covering her mouth. Fully embarrassed by the fact that she couldn't keep her thoughts to herself at all! Slowly she relaxed again, letting her hands fall to her sides. She was being ridiculous, she hadn't been this cautious with Nir, though with their circumstances, she kind of couldn't be. He had helped her so much without really knowing her. Maybe this man would be similar.

"Sinnammyn, you.. can just... call me Sinna though. And it's Tunawa."

There was a soft smile on her face, but his next question threw her for a loop for a second before she realized what he meant. She laughed and shook her head no.

"In general it's not something you'd want try doing with a Tunawa. Handshakes I mean. Since you're so big, you could easily snatch up one of us and run. So... It's better to not try and reach for one of us unless we reach for you or ask for your help. Just helps us to feel secure, if you know what I mean."

There was a slight formality to the way she spoke, but it was still relaxed, not stuck up and definitely fluent. It was obvious she'd been speaking common for arcs. Sitting there she just kind of stays silent. Slowly, she stood herself up and started brushing herself off a bit. Not sure where to take the conversation after that.

[Doran Cooney]

The thought that so small a woman might find his size alone alarming never crossed his mind. Instead, he attributed her clumsy fumbling to be a natural response to cold. After all, he'd lived his entire life surrounded by trees and flowers, all of whom struggled against the cold - let alone the frost and ice. So, when she fell, he patiently waited, his face showing neither sign of worry nor contempt. It wasn't difficult, distracted as he was by the manner in which her body moved. Even had he imagined something similar in his day dreams of the miniature race, the sight of wood and petal bending and twisting in much the same way as that of flesh and bone was far too peculiar a sight for him to give too much thought to the peripheral considerations of how she might be feeling or how he might be making her feel.

At the offered pronunciation, Doran gave a thankful nod, grinning at Sinnammyn's name. It suited her, in color at the very least. Had his sense of smell been on par with those more sensitive, he may have noticed the spicy sweet scent about her that the name surely was derived from, but the chill had since limited his senses to sight and sound with only vestiges of the others for the time being. "Is that so? I hope that's not too common of an occurrence. The snatching, I mean." He folded his hands over the top of the knee that rested against his chest, nodding thoughtfully at the little woman's words. He couldn't quite fathom having to worry about being picked up by another sentient being upon first meeting, but it didn't take much imagination to envision how disconcerting it might be.

With his initial curiosity fading from a burst of sunlight into a more steady, though constant glow, he realized how queer it was to see one of the little plant people alone. From what he knew, and on relatively good authority, the Tunäwä were kept as pets. After his acquaintance with Sinna, however, he found the whole prospect of it far less appealing than he had as a child. She was quite clearly her own person, not a dog or cat, and the idea that she be someone's plaything sat sour in his stomach. Doll-like as she may have appeared, she was really only comparable in appearance. Nonetheless, the rapid stream of his consciousness, regardless of the morality and ethics, found the nature of her individual state of being to be almost as strange as he happening upon her in the first place.

Never one much for tact, Doran's head tilted slightly in the opposite direction, his eyes still clear and without any apparent intent beyond seeking answers. "Are you not a pet?" The phrasing, even as it left his lips, left something to be desired, and he frowned in thought, continuing with a pensive, "No, no... not a 'pet'... a slave?" While his words were not harsh, he made no effort to soften them beyond his naturally airy tone, after all, he had no real idea what it was to be the property of another - at least, not that he was aware of. His time spent under the roof of his aunt and uncle's home, though comparable, wasn't something he immediately brought to mind, having normalized his past to the extent it seemed completely different to him from that of what it must be to be a slave. "I was under the impression that all of the Tunäwä in Rynmere were kept."

[Sinnammyn]

Ashan 6th, 718[/b]

Sinna stood there looking at the man before her. Watching as he pulled his hands away, yet again helping her relax a bit. So far it looked like wasn't going to just grab her and drag her back into slavedom. That was good at least. She frowned and spat into the dirt of the pot though as her anger rose up in a flare of emotion as he asked about her last words.

"There are some despicable beings that seem to think it's okay to enslave other. I don't know how often it happens, but to be quite frank with you, it's too often. I was only two arcs old when it happened to me, and so help me if I don't try my hardest to put a stop to it!"

Her eyes like glowing ember from a fire so unlike what her plant like nature would have dictated. Her tone not the only thing about her that seemed to bit, she almost looked like she was bristling at the very thought of it.

"Of course I'm not a slave! I was thrown out like some damned used toy by people like your kind!"

She screamed just to get it out, kicking the stalk of the flower, but it didn't really do anything but shake the flower a bit. She screamed again and stamped her foot. Throwing her hands in the air wildly as she spat out her next words.

"Pet would be too kind of a word, so good on you for making the correction on your own. Sure, most Tunawa around here are KEPT.. as you put it. Against our WILL! It's not like we have a lot of feking choice in the matter either! Due to our size we can't feking do much to keep ourselves protected. Now! If you have anything else RUDE to ask, why don't you go ahead and ask it. Because obviously, that's what you're here to do!"

[Doran Cooney]

With so diminutive a stature, there was an endearing sort of quality to her tirade, even so ardent as it was. She reminded him of the Venoran squirrels, the way she cast about, spiting and snarling, though she was far their better in communication when it came to the common tongue. He wasn't sure how he felt about slavery, exactly, but it was very clear that Sinna had no patience for it - to put it lightly. A common - and in some cases, necessary - practice in Rynmere, he had had no real negative experiences with it, though he had no issue acknowledging he'd never actually been a slave. Surely being subjugated to something like that would leave one in favor of freedom over being someone's property.

Two arcs, though, seemed quite young. If her kind aged at a similar rate to his own, she was nothing but a baby at the time. It did pose the question of how old she was now, but as her temper still flared bright, glinting dangerously in her fiery gaze, he supposed it better to save such things for when she was feeling less exhortative. Instead, he listened quietly, his eyes dark in color but bright in quality as he heard what it was she had to say. There was pain, frustration, and exasperation all wrapped up tight into her anger that - though it might have been technically correct to say was directed at Doran in that moment - was enough to suggest that the little woman's life was rife with plenty of her own struggles and, at the very least, victory over the greatest of them. Perhaps, though, that victory won by some chance or shift of interest was all the more infuriating, as it had been out of her hands.

When she kicked the poor flower, Doran frowned just slightly. There was no need to get so aggressive with the delicately beautiful, harmless plant. Her outlook was fatalistic, certainly, and he sighed gently through his nose, breath just a hair warmer than the chill around them as it passed over his lip. "That is truly an exceptional set of circumstances in which you find yourself." With a polite bow of his head, his voice remained ever cordial, taking no personal offense from her acidic acrimony. "I apologize for having offended you. While it's not my explicit intention to boorishly prick at your sensitivities, how old are you?" Seeing as she had, quite literally, invited him to ask anything that might be - or absolutely was - rude, he thought it the best chance.

Without moving much beyond a slight shift in his weight to find a more comfortable balance, he kept his hands folded and body relaxed over all. He had no intention of scaring her away, if he could help it. "And do the petals on your head change color? How long ago did you escape, and what's your plan to put a stop to such things, as you said? Do you have a plan, or is it more of an overarching purpose? Are all Tunäwä as irascible as you are?" He spoke quickly, but not so rushed that his words were not clear. There was not a hint of jest in his tone, though hanging just below the airy lilt of his tone was a soft sadness. It was not quite pity but neither could it claim to truly be empathy - perhaps something in between - and it glimmered in his eyes where the sun caught at the dark umbre.

[Sinnammyn]

Ashan 6th, 718[/b]

To be quite fair, Sinna was expecting worse questions of the man after that first one. The heat from her anger still bubbling her sap as she looked him over which was quite obviously a glare. She crossed her arms over her chest, swinging out a hip and tapping her foot as she took into consideration every question that he'd asked. The fact that he hadn't taken any action to try and grab her for himself was plenty for her to go by in thinking that he wasn't meaning anything by his question even without his explanation. The guy was just curious. Obviously though he didn't know what the word "tact" meant. Or if he did know, he didn't have any.

"Apology tentatively accepted. For your information, I'm turning twelve arcs just a bit later in this Ashan. My petals to be honest I could rip them out and grow something else it's just easier to keep the same I suppose, though it does wilt in the cold seasons. Which is why the petals probably have brown spots on them right now."

She took a deep breath and slowly stood straight again, letting her hands fall to her side before moving to the edge of the pot and sitting on the rim of it, leaning forward, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands as she looked forwards as if she were looking through him towards the future for a moment.

"I was thrown out by my owners in...some trial in Yimiden of.. 715 I believe? Has it been that long? Amazing how the Arcs fly. My plan... to stop things... is a little complicated and I'm not even sure on if it all will work or not, but I do know some Nobles that believe in my cause, and I'm going to try and ask them for help as much as possible. Also, I'm not Irascible.. as you say, I'm just.. free to finally express myself. So why not be blunt and straightforward?"

The Tunawa shrugged and looked at him with a bit of a grin. A small, jaded chuckle leaving her lips.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the sad one! Though, recently I've been fighting myself tooth and bark to find out what my purpose was, what it was I wanted to achieve. I'm sure you've at least wondered what you wanted to do with your life once or twice no? Or were you handed your life to you on a silver platter. Hard to tell with how blissfully ignorant you seem to be."

[Doran Cooney]

Forgiven his transgressions, Doran inclined his head in an appreciative gesture. She was much younger than he expected, but from the sound of her voice and build of her body, he wasn't certain that that meant she was a child. Whatever the rough equivalent was, it didn't really matter all that much, as she was more than capable of holding a conversation. Old enough to know what she wanted to say and how, their exchange thus far had been more than satisfactory, and he felt no need for further clarification. The rest of the more paltry information he'd requested was provided forthwith, and he nodded in turn, once more examining the petals and indeed finding them subtly weathered by the climate, something small enough to escape his notice before but clear after Sinna had drawn his attention to it.

As the tale of her egress from the clutches of those who had, in her words, snatched her away - though away from where he still was a bit foggy on - was one that required a bit more of her, he respectfully shifted his weight once again, switching which knee was brought to his chest while simultaneously adding a couple inches of distance between the two of them in a subtle shuffle as he adjusted his cloak. Their conversation had distracted him from the worst of the icy cold that hung in the clear, crisp air, but a distraction was neither cure nor poultice, and in the brief silence that prologued the recollection he had asked for, he was reminded just how chilly the day was. But when she spoke, he listened, and as before, his interests so easily drawn, the numbness pushed aside the slight itch and burn of breezeless air, for the time being.

Again, he marveled at how very much alive she was. For something so small, he thought she might move more like the quick twitches of bird or slowly, as one might imagine living wood to do. When she stopped, her chin resting just so in her delicate hand, it was like looking at a sculpture or carving. In spite of her vehement opposition to being "kept", he could easily see the appeal of owning a little man or woman of wood and leaf. Though the ethics of such a arrangement, especially after Sinna's outburst, were questionable at best.

With her words came meaning, and meaning required far more of his focus. Instead of eyeing the natural aesthetic of her form, his gaze found itself fixed on the minute, sculpted lips of her mouth, moving just the same as those of flesh might. His brain worked quickly the maths, but having never been very skilled at such things, he came to the rough conclusion that her captivity had lasted, at least, five arcs. Any further calculations required too much of his attention, and she had left little room for him to think as she continued. It was a long time, half - or more than half if he'd underestimated - of her life in captivity. It was no wonder she had no difficulty with speaking their shared language. From what she'd told him already, it seemed she'd grown up listening to it, if not straight out speaking it herself.

That she had the nobility on her side, even if it were only a few, was impressive in its own sense. He'd never imagined the gentry to care much about the affairs of things like slaves. Or, really, anything that didn't directly involve them. His eyes widened and lips turned just slightly down in an expression of admiration of her pursuit of her idea of justice, clearly displayed, as he rarely had occasion to hide such things from others. At her correction of his musing judgement he'd passed earlier, he nodded, a grin about his lips. "A fair question with a suitable answer."

And as the gentle reprimand was given, he merely shook his head, his smile softer but still present. "Please do excuse me; when I hear a tragic tale, I'm not quite callous enough to find it anything but." The light in his eyes softened as well as Sinna continued, and he drew a thoughtful breath through his nose that he released in a metered rhythm from between his lips. "Oh, I've... wondered. Wandered." Though he kept his eyes on the Tunäwä's face, his tone, airy as it was, grew a hair more distant. "Bliss is not always for the ignorant, nor ignorance always for the blissful. I'm afraid I'm just shy enough of both to land myself in a state of melancholy here and there." Grounding his words once more with a mellow chuckle, his brows rose and fell in a gesture of complacency. "But, as you said so well yourself, why not be ignorant and blissful, when I can afford it? The wonder of the world is always tempered in the grim fires of misfortune. I'm simply not strong enough a man to look at the world for what everyone seems to want it to be."

He shrugged then, "It's just all too... somber." Inclining his head towards his companion, he continued right along, the weight of his words lightening easily. "But look at you. I stopped to admire a thing frozen, trapped, beautiful but static. And yet, I found beneath it a bud. Free and fiery, strong enough to admit her weakness but wise enough to seek aide where you might falter." He nodded, more to himself than Sinna. "And all of it I would have passed by without a second thought, were I not quite so 'blissfully ignorant'." Grinning, he shifted his weight once more. "What are you doing out here anyway? It seems a bit out of the way for a nap." The cadence and rhythm of his voice smoothly transitioned once more into a casual timbre, as if they'd not been speaking of their more sensitive past not but a bit prior.

[Sinnammyn]

Ashan 6th, 718[/b]

It was always interesting to watch human expressions. Enlarged version of Tunawa expressions. In just as much of a flurry as each other though. The man probably went through at least half a dozen expressions as he took in everything that she said. From gratitude to sorrow, it was quite a vision. Though she did take notice his adjustments to try and brace himself a bit more from the cold.

In all reality, Sinna was glad that she saw such expressions from the man. It meant that he had at least some kind of a soul and understanding. Even if he didn't understand the full implications of some of what she'd said, he at least seemed to be trying to. His words only helping to confirm that process of thought in her head.

Not only that, this man seemed to have a somewhat similar way of thinking when it came to things such as meetings. Curiosity, idle thoughts, random misadventures, were all part of how people got to meet. It didn't matter if it was for better or for worse, different chances occur, and different choices can be made, and those choices push you towards your future in many different ways.

A broad smile slowly grew on her face the more the man talked. If she could, she would be blushing quite brightly, but since she couldn't she just tilted her head diagonal and down in a way that made her look a little shy. She laughed softly and slowly shook her head.

"Even in all my time here in Andaris, I still get lost sometimes. Especially now that I've lost... Avery"

The pause was met with a sudden dulling of her eyes and a frown filling her face. She sighed and leaned forward a bit more, some stray petals moving to make a slight shadow over her face. She sighed and looked back up at him with a forced smile.

"I don't have a mount anymore. I was actually looking to see about looking at how some businesses are run and maybe find a master carver, one that is used to carving into delicate bones. Though the later doesn't really need to be immediate. The sooner I find them, the better I'd feel. Since I was tired from the last few trials.... I decided that maybe a rest under a flower would be nice. That's all."

She shrugged and slowly stood up looking around, as if she were trying to figure out which way she should go. She was going to need to start moving again if she was ever going to get back to Nir'wei's camp before nightfall.