[Fallon] As the Rainbow's Raiment to Touch

by **Philomena** on June 6th, 2013, 12:36 pm

She listened carefully, as she had described to her the proper way of pouring liquor - she had assumed, honestly, one poured it the same as kelp beer, and that her teacups would be too small - people at some of the richer West Wing parties of the year milled around with cocktail tumblers, and they looked higher than the thumb - but then… now that she considered it, she wasn't sure they were filled with only liquor. Perhaps it was thinned with something.

She made note of the rule, in her mind, as she dragged the dressing stool out, picked it up - an uncomfortable affair, that, being as short as she was, she had to keep her elbows flexed simply so the legs didn't drag on the ground, and the thing was clearly an ancient relic of a thing, made of far more wood than was necessary. She plopped it down before the desk, and blushed, took up her own tea, and threw half the glass into her throat. She was tense, she realized. Nervousness made her revert back to her childhood in so many ways, and a Zeltivan Kennel-girl, after all, if presented with a cuppa tea, didn't mince about with little sips and slurps.

"No, I dunny drink sae much of hard things. I ne'er really had a reason, I s'pose. Growing up it were too rich for me, when I could just 'er well have water for free. By the time I'd 'er had the budget for it, well, I'm too old now. I nuvvy thought t'much o' the smell, ter be honest. Kelp beer just smiles like kelp tea left out t'long ." she attempted a smile, it came out a little forced, and weak, but well-meaning. Alcohol was a topic upon which she could be self-deprecating, "I suppose I nuvvy had nae to teach me how. Watching my students, I believe how to drink is a very popular freshman course."

Qalaya, though… that was a different topic entirely. She heard the question, and she grew very quiet, drunk down the second half of her teacup and looked at the ground. The silence hung, uncomfortably in the air a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more fragile. She shifted, leaning in closer to the other woman, the space between them just on the edge of average comfortable personal boundaries.

"Mother Qalaya… yes… ever' day. Ever' moment. Ever' day. I…" she tries to speak, but the words are difficult to form, and a certain fear grips her heart, and crawls into the muscles of her forehead. She looks up at the other woman in her seat, with the imploring eyes of someone begging not to be hurt.

//Let that not be stupid to her… please, let her not mock me for this, this of all things, Mother. I trusted too far, didn't I? I told her too much. Please keep me safe.//x

by **Fallon** on June 6th, 2013, 5:59 pm

Fallon was truly focused upon her now, eyes turning sharp on her new piece of study. The Professor seemed to squirm underneath it, a pleading look coming out from beneath her brow. But Fallon simply stared, even when the cup was raised and she took a second sip of the sharp liquor. The head tilted slightly to one side, the eyes sliding away for a moment to the altar then back to the woman who seemed so awkward by the question. The cup was lowered and a crisp voice spoke out, unwavering and unbroken “I understand. There is no need to shrink away; I have no quarrels or judgement to hand down upon you.”

It was no doubt both direct and straight to the point, perhaps to the point that it may have been intimidating. Not that she meant to be, it was just the way she was.

“When I worship Eyris, I simply worship her by tasking myself to learn something new each day and to gradually increase both knowledge and wisdom. Perhaps it seems lax and simple to you, but it is the way I work. And in honesty I think she would prefer I do something more practical with my time instead of sitting down and praying to her,” there was a brief moment of thoughtfulness on her face, her finger nail gently tapping against the side of the cup “But that is just me and my own way. I am sure that we each have our own methods.” She gave a nod, before raising the cup once more and finishing what remained – with a bit of difficulty, it was after all potent stuff.

She grimaced then shuddered as the cup was lowered a final time, as if she was trying to shake away the horrid taste that had accumulated in her mouth. Ales and beers were indeed a preference to her, but had the choice been out of the liquor and kelp beer, well… she did not know what she would choose, she still had yet to taste the renowned substance “I think I can see why you keep this as a ‘septic now.”
x

by **Philomena** on June 8th, 2013, 9:51 pm

Minnie's face retains the nervousness despite the girl's assurances. After all, that is what they'd say, isn't it? And this is who they'd send to embarrass her with - a pretty woman - strange pretty, the sort of ground and tired pretty that told a story - with a bit of mystery about her, and that Kenabelle Wright Eyrisian Air to her when she spoke and acted. A little cold, a little cautious. This is who they'd send. Minnie sighed, to herself, feeling sick in her heart, hating herself for being so simple and weak.

But she could not... simply ignore it. Some topics, simply have a magnetism, and one cannot resist them, even if one should. And the gods - especially Qalaya - and their ways...

"I'm... I'm... I don't sit and ask for things. The.. drops, they are for me, not her, not... not really. They are to help me remember the chimes, so I... I don't stay up... up too late..." she frowned, shut her eyes shaking her head. This all sounded stupid. She lifted her teacup to give her hand something to do, but the cup was empty, which just made her feel stupider.

"I dunny know..." her voice lowered and curled trilliing and queer across her tongue, the voice of her childhood, the low, ugly cant of the street, just creeping into the corners of it, "I ... some folk, they think what the gods are ter be asked things of. That yer have to go and kneel and grovel, and plead, and say, "Aye lord, I need money," or "Please, milady, place a curse on my enemy," or whatever. I dunny know. Some Gods. I dunno. Perhaps. I think, I could nae worship like ert, though. I could only grovel, and grovelling, that is not love. I... I write, that's... I... I write. Its like when the young folk talk of their lovers. I love her. I love her... I..." her eyes were closed by now, and she began to rock very slowly and gently, "I... I mean, I have nae e'er met her. I'm... only a vurry smill servant, jus' a very smill child, really, and I dunny mean sae much, not aye her."

Her accent had grown so thick, and absent, her eyes closed and her body rocking like a young girl mourning over a boy she can't have, her voice quavering anyways, so thick that it made her hard to understand to anyone not well acquainted with the streets of the city - not even that, but the streets of the city long ago, when she was a girl.

"But a love her, oh petch-a-childs-mother do I love her. I hivver write, as if I dunny write, I won't ever 'ave the chance er talking, and I need to talk to her, I need to. And I write... I write stories, otter filks, tings I dunny think nae otter is writterin', I want it to be useful, I..."

Self consciousness returned with a crash, and her eyes flew open in sudden horror, as something finally pierced through her brain enough to remind her of her situation. She stared and paled, her tiny body looking tinier, as it cringed in its chair. She tried to say something, it just came out as a sort of mewl.
x

by **Fallon** on June 9th, 2013, 11:05 am

She did not say anything. Instead she simply stared for a chime, and then promptly stood. Nagging thoughts grasped at her mind, wants for knowledge and understanding on why. Why for anything, or any reason. The student looked down upon the Professor, eyes staring down. But there was no judgement, there was no care, there was a simple cold analysing of words and an attempt almost to empathise with the words of Philomena Lefting. Fallon swayed slightly on the spot for a moment, before carefully placing down the cup on an empty space on the desk. Yet there she stood still, looking down upon the vulnerable face of the woman, they flicker of fear that was awaiting a judgement or something much worse.

The girl still had nothing to say, she had no quarrels, she had no words to share. Her skin prickled, her mind reminding herself of the territory that she stood in along with her eyes that once more scanned the room. Fallon herself could not understand what was wrong, if there was anything wrong. It seemed normal to ask questions and worship gods and goddesses in an individual way. Was it not? Was she mistaken? Was there some form of etiquette that she had forgotten when addressing someone on the subject? Her lips pursed together for a moment, her brow lowering as she tried to understand.

Fallon, of course, failed to do so. Her eyes traced around the room once more, memorising it as best she could before finalising that it was perhaps time that she left. She gave a nod to the Professor “I think it would be best if I go. Apologies for intruding upon you and your home. And… thank you for the nightcap.” Retreat, regroup and analyse, that was what she needed to do now. Her nostrils flared slightly as her hands went to her pockets, those eyes giving a last fleeting snatch of information before she turned on her heel “I will… show myself out.” And indeed she did, making her way across the room and to the door in the dim light. Fingers curled around the door handle and only once did she glance back at the professor with a low crisp tone escaping from her lips.

“I will see you in class.”
x

by **Philomena** on June 15th, 2013, 2:46 am

The girl retreated, and almost that was worse. If the girl had attacked her, had mocked her as... had happened before. Well. Then she could take the sour comfort of the victim - she had been attacked. She had been taken advantage of. But this girl did not attack her. She simply saw what she was, and fled. Minine tried, she tried. She lay out truth, and her own selfness. And the girl saw it. And it was what Minnie had always known: that properly seen, the things she had become were repulsive.

She had thought... She had thought what? She had thought... no. No she had not dared to believe the girl would care, or understand. But that... perhaps she would ask questions. Or be glad she'd come. The feeling of before, so tenuous at the best of time, came back to her, and haunted her, her hand drifting to slide an inkstained finger underneath the scarf. at her neck, and stroke the ragged ugly scar there.

Her eyes trained on the tips of her scuffed, narrow boots, and she stumbled to her feet, the hand still at her neck to go for the door, then to back up awkwardly as the girl got instead.

"Ms Skillair... I... I..." her mildly nasal voice choked and caught, and she stood stupidly, blinking for a moment, then closed her eyes. Her free hand curled quietly the index finger with its sharp-filed nail and pushed it into palm of her hand with some visible force to one who might be looking closely. She focused on it, she placed her mind in the middle of it, drank deep of it. There. A point. Empty your mind, and be in this single moment, one single self.

"Yes. In class, Ms Skillair. I'm sorry you didn't enjoy the show. Have a lovely evening."
x

by **Ariann** on March 13th, 2014, 6:56 pm

Grades!

Congratulations! The following records the grades all you wonderful people have recieved! Good job! ^_^

Congrats, Fallon!

Fallon :

Apologies, Philomena!

Philomena :

If there is any issues with the points I have given, or if you think you deserve More/Different Lores, then feel free to PM me! I will rectify the issue ASAP, if I am indeed incorrect. ^_^ Have a nice day!

Flashback [Fallon] As the Rainbow's Raiment to Touch