PM to join [Cubacious Inn] Practice Makes Perfect

[Infilia Snowsong]

.
.

.

"Rainbow eyes, cast to the skies..."
Title
"Speech"
"Others"

Summer,517av, 20th


Cubacious Inn.

Whenever Infilia played, she made up tunes that correlated with her past. No matter what she did, things had always been dull for the young Vantha. She wanted to travel the world, and perform. But, she can barely step out of her own room at the Cubacious Inn (sometimes). Other times, she'll be just fine, but Alvadas can be scary sometimes, and she had a right to be scared. She and the rest of her people have been hunted down last Winter. Slowly, the next Winter had been approaching. There's only a matter of time that Infilia had to practice her flute again.

Her tempo increased, but her tone was still high. She wondered how long she could go with one breath. One breath was all it took to make or break her performances. If she messed up on her breathing she could possibly mess up with the rest of her play. The brunette played for a few more chimes, she did her best to keep up with a melody, though there weren't any other instruments around, obviously.

She decided that she could use this break as a walk throughout the city. Maybe even find another place to perform. She's not competent yet, but she knew that she'll get to that point soon. No matter how long it takes her, she'll manage and she'll do it well also. If she's hoping to be the best; it'll take time and a lot of effort to master the flute. Once she Masters the flute though, what would be her next musical instrument?

Infilia didn't really know; there were many different instruments that were built differently than a flute:

The tuba, the chello, the base, etc.. there were so many and thinking about mastering another instrument was insane; it was too early for her to start thinking about playing a new instrument. She was still a beginner at playing the flute. She also wished that she could see Nemori, or even Avara again as time passed by she hadn't had a clue as to where they had gone. They could definitely be anywhere by now (and Infilia was only trying to be hopeful) she really was hopeful. Hope seemed to call her a lot. She only answered every time she heard the call of hope. It seemed necessary; to believe that they (her people) are all saw and sound. She wanted to know how saw they were, but she was afraid of traveling back to Avanthal. She didn't want to go back, not yet anyhow. She still needs to know more about the world and she wished no more than to at least see every city before she went back.

Though, currently, Alvadas has some mystery to it; and she wants to explore all of them. Infilia would be glad to discover he secrets that Alvadas held (if any) and she would love to meet more people. She met Elin some five days ago, perhaps Infilia could teach her more flute? Infilia was glad nonetheless that she was able to find someone who would help her out during her hardships. Although, she hadn't been in trouble for the time being; so she could make haste and just do something for fun. But, she didn't know what to do for fun, she should just stick to flute playing for today.

She finally headed outside as she got dressed and put on her summer clothing. She liked the fact that she didn't have to dress in seven layers of clothes just to keep warm. It was cold year round back at Avanthal, and it was mostly cold during the Summer. This, this weather, it was something that Infilia would die to experience (and not literally either mainly just a figure of speech). She was glad to leave when she could so she could explore the world, although she had never found her parents, she was sure that they were safe.

Right now, she thought that this city would be her home and she was joyous when it came to having a place to stay; and to have friends and others who were there to support her. She wanted to meet more people, but she really didn't know how. Infilia stopped and caught her breath, she was holding her flute, she had a cup with her just in case, and she had her money pouch. She observed the world around her, one of her hands rested against her father's angle -knife and the other held the metal flute. It weighed heavy too, and so did her soul. She was glad to still live, she could play an exciting tune, but she wondered what would really attract people? Perhaps a calm tune would suit best, she began to play, but slow and calm as she knew how to play that sort of melody better than most.

811/2500

Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach.

.
.

[Cabochon]

Cloudy and overcast, was it? A pity. The little Pycon wanted to make a day of sightseeing and enjoying the pleasantries Alvadas usually brought. Usually was the operative word there. He'd only hoped he'd find shelter of some sort while he ventured. Rain and clay never mixed, never. Tightening the strings on his coin purse, he balanced it along his spine as he began his adventurous trudge to find food. It was always food, wasn't it? Cabochon noticed with a sliver of ambiguity that his day-long endeavors usually comprised of some equivalent to means. Why should they relate to anything else? Should they have? There was that one endeavor where he met Madeira in the Bizarre. She was definitely... Interesting, to say the least. There was odd charm to her, though, and he enjoyed her company nonetheless. As he walked, he recalled the last time he'd ventured towards Kalea's Kiln. It was a lovely little shop, a hollow of a building that housed many an interesting vessel. Pots, vases, trinkets, one named it, they more than likely had it. If not, they made it from scratch and for a fraction more of a price. It was probably the first time in their careers that they met such a simple customer as the Pycon. All he wanted was the clay, not shaped, fired or painted -just the clay as itself. It wasn't nearly as rich and iodized as the natural red clay, but it wasn't chunky and gritty like the natural orange clay, either. It was that smooth, simple consistency that Cabochon appreciated, and he didn't mind paying a pretty penny to eat it, either. As he hobbled along, he looked about him for familiar street corners and recognizable faces. From there, he'd ask along his way to finding things. He had to take some more time and practice his climbing skills again. His last endeavor with the practice both aided in discovering a necessity and gaining a new acquaintance. He wondered how that man was doing, now that the thought crossed his mind. Eventually, a kindly store-owner pointed him in the correct direction. He thanked her for her time and made haste. He had a small reserve of clay left underneath that little gardening shelf, and he always felt better when he knew he had something to cushion it. He couldn't buy much from them, so he typically asked for six pounds every two weeks. It lasted him long enough, and his appetite was much different from a typical human being. He considered himself blessed as often as he considered himself cursed. This was one of those instances in which he felt blessed. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a melodious tune. The ears anchored to the underside of his jaw picked up on it, and his head turned towards its general location. It had a wispy, swinging feel to it. A flute of some sort? He knew there was more than one out there, given from the wind instrument sellers in the Bizarre. This peaked his curiosity, and he thought out his day as he stood in the center of the empty cobblestone road. He was in no rush that day, and his usual schedules didn't have countless obligations on them, unlike others. He hoped that would change soon, considering he was running out of money and needed to find a job as soon as possible. His gaze returned to the entrancing tunes that beckoned from somewhere, and he decided he'd investigate. Turning on his hand, he re-positioned himself to follow the sounds. The sounds became louder the closer he ventured, eventually noticing the floating cubes of Alvadas' famous Inn. They resided from there? His curiosity rose even higher now, hearing so much and yet knowing so little about the place. It was the first establishment his parents accessed before buying their own home. He rounded the bend, looking for the person behind the notes. Once he did, he would admit later on that there was more than one thing capturing his awe. She rocked and moved in sync to the tunes developing off the instrument. It was a flute, indefinitely. He had to stop himself from staring and gaping in hypnotism. The woman's flute wasn't the only thing that entranced the Pycon. She was also a gorgeous young thing, admittedly. A young, vivacious face surrounded by brown, silky swirls. Twinged and tied up accordingly was her hair, encased and littered with white flowers and preserved tree twigs. It was as if he stared at a woman out of a fable. His trance was interrupted when she missed a note, a sharp b coming out instead. Frustrated, she stopped and stared at it, and Cabochon found his opportunity to introduce himself. "Pardon me," he interrupted, "But I couldn't help hearing your flute's notes some ways away. You can thank the wind for that," he added. He pondered a good prompt to break the awkward silence. "Are there words to that song, or is it merely instrumental?"

OOCYou were switching up between 2nd person and 3rd person in your narratives, so it was hard to keep up with. It also feels very rushed! Don't worry about making a deadline on here, alright? Threads sometimes take a while. Just a heads up!

[Infilia Snowsong]

.
.

.

"Rainbow eyes, cast to the skies..."
Title
"Speech"
"Others"

"Pardon me," a voice chimed, Infilia looked around and she wondered, "what said that; and of course who said that?" Her flustered expression was overwhelmed with a sense of confusion and her eyes had swirled a mist of purple. Her worry was mixed with confusion and she found herself looking down at a talking clay figure. She jumped in shock. What- was this madness? Was it some game; but then, Infilia remembered something way back when when she was at Avanthal, and some Snowsongs were talking about clay creatures that could walk, and talk, and do everything else that a human could at least do. Oh, blasted; what were they called?,

It was the tip-of-the-tongue-phenomenon so they called it and it was there; she knew that she knew the name of this race of beings that also originated from Mizahar. How was it so difficult to remember what they were? Then she forgot that the clay being had talked to her, yes she forgot; oh how could she forget? It wasn't everyday that she met clay people...

"But I couldn't help hearing your flute's notes some ways away. You can thank the wind for that," he added with a subtle yet deep speech and at least it sounded like a guys tone. He didn't know who or what this being was, but it was certainly interesting. Out of curiosity, Infilia kneeled down gently, and slowly. She smiled as the clay creature spoke. But, she didn't know whether or not this being spoke his last statement as a compliment or, a judgement. Perhaps she had interpreted his common wrong? She was still learning.

"Um, thank you?" Infilia spoke in the broken common tongue. She was sure that he was able to understand. At least, he was competent at speaking it compared to Infilia.

"Are there words to that song, or is it merely instrumental?" Words to the song? Infilia hadn't actually thought about writing words to the song; it was mostly heart-felt and she played the way she felt at the best of her capability. She wondered what this clay creature wanted to know. She figured that she could best be honest with him; since she ran on honestly, unless she was running through a desperate path, and she doesn't really feel comfortable talking about it. No, not one bit.

"No... no words, just sway."She replied smoothly, her common spoke through a half beautiful hum of her voice. She stroked one hand through her hair out of uncertainty and wondered what the best course of action was. She wanted to know more about this clay being, but she was somewhat afraid of getting too deep. But, her curiosity was getting the best of her, and that won over her worry.

"Don't mean... to- to be rude..." She paused, and observed the clay being some more something about him looked odd; and it was mainly the way he had presented himself. "What are... you, and... who are you?" Mostly she was kind when she asked and it was just her curiosity getting the best of her.

1325/2500

Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach.

.
.

[Cabochon]

After asking his question, he had waited patiently for her response, but found himself a little perturbed when she looked everywhere but down. Was he too quiet? Should he have addressed his relativity to her? He was about to reveal his position when he caught her eyes change color. Was she a Vantha as well? If she was, he had so many questions! Then, she looked down, a squeaking gasp exiting her lips! Her surprise evoked his own, and he leaned back in shock! Good Ionu above, was he that terrifying? The folds of clay acting as eyebrows turned upward in confusion, but he had to stop himself. Madeira hadn't met a Pycon before, either, so how could he treat this nice lady any different? He saw that her mind was clouded by some kind of intense thought. Eventually, her curiosity seemed to overtake her. She kneeled down to his level, either to get a better look at him or something. Her mouth curved into a gentle smile, and Cabochon subconsciously reflected one back. With her response, Cabochon immediately picked up the fact that Common was not her first language. "Um, thank you?" she answered, the response lined with uncertainty. It was extremely obvious to the Pycon that she struggled with the words. Her face twisted and contorted with proper pronunciation, and he almost felt sorry for her. With his next question, he brought a shift of thought to her face. She stopped to ponder it, and he wondered if she was working up the words to say. He was right. "No..." she paused, "No words, just sway." Her words confused him. Just sway? What did that mean? He took his own time to ponder what she was trying to say while she studied him. Then, her next question slowly made its way out. "What are.. You, and... Who are you?" He could tell her curiosity was skyrocketing by now. He willingly eased the burning questions. "I am a Pycon, a race entirely made of clay," he replied. His informative mannerisms bothered him, and he attempted to deviate to a more gentle tone. Gesturing, he introduced himself, "My name is Cabochon. What's yours?" The silence following their introduction became unnerving, and as much as the creature didn't want to admit it, there was a very real presence of void-like proportion. It was as if the temperature dropped a degree or two. He started to rub his fingers along his gemstone, hoping the fidgeting would fill the discomfort of their eye contact. It didn't work all to well. Suddenly, much to Cabochon's surprise, a sudden chill overtook the air, and he lifted his head skyward. The swirling, shifting clouds no longer seemed so trustworthy. His gaze turned to a nervous hope. He watched the sky, arching his back farther and farther as he scanned the whole of the visible sky. Was it coming? He couldn't tell! Unfortunately, no sooner did the air creep in than the sky opened up! His chest seized up with fear! He wasn't supposed to touch water! If fire was something to fear, water was worse for his kind! Many civilians ran for cover under the overhangs of roofs, tents and other shelter. Cabochon wasted no time getting to the edge of the Cubacious Inn, his chest heaving and his collarbones rising with exhausted fear. How unfortunate was that? Curse his luck; he never truly had it to begin with! He only hoped it would clear up in time for him to return home!