[Sculpture Yard]Promenade in the Park at Sunset(Berus)

[Younger]

Spring, Day 20, 511AV Art was a difficult concept to fully grasp. Kris understood it, or at least he claimed that he did. Art, he said, is the why. In the searing orange glow of an evening sun, a tall white-haired woman strolled listlessly down an icy pathway in the Sculpture Yard. That was a word she understood, "sculpture," as she looked around the yard with bored curiosity. Some of the sculptures were carved out of polished, clear ice, which refracted the light from the setting sun in a dazzling, sparkling display. It was nice, if distracting. But more than that she noticed that most of these statues took on familiar shapes - birds, foxes, people, and of course bears. Many of them didn't look all that realistic. The eyes were too large, their limbs too long, or they were shaped in poses that no self-respecting ursine would ever be caught in. Her brother had said that they weren't supposed to be exactly lifelike. Art was the reason why they were carved that way. The artist had deliberately added his own style and personality to the sculpture. She failed to understand how something that already existed could be, or even would be changed just because some other person carved it out. At the very least, Kris helped her understand one thing. If anyone asked why a certain sculpture looked the way it did, she'd always have an answer: it's artistic. The Kelvic who called herself Younger wandered deeper into the park. In her human form, she'd learned quickly that people expected other humanoids to be wearing clothing, so she was. Here in open, she had donned her favorite jacket - a long, burgundy trench coat littered with pockets perfect for collecting random items. For now, only her hands filled those pockets to protect them from the bitter dusk winds. In this weaker state, she more prone to being cold, despite Morwen's mark. Her ursine coat was thick, heavy, and kept her very toasty. She had a preference for being so hot that she just wanted to spend all day lying on the snow. In her human state, she wasn't altogether uncomfortable, but she looked forward to revering back to her more natural state. She had been told anyway, that without Morwen's Gnosis, she would have died of hypothermia only minutes after walking outside. Younger didn't know what hypothermia was, but it sounded unsavory. At any rate, she presumed that she was probably immune to it and had nothing to worry about. Eventually Younger came across a particularly interesting sculpture - one of two polar bears. The artist who built it must have been very good - or very bad - because the bears looked exactly as they were supposed to. The proportions were correct, and she could even tell which was male and which was female. They were fighting, which was unusual to Younger. Polar bears usually tried toa avoid each other. If she had to chance a guess, she knew there would be little other reason for a female to stand up to a male other than to protect her cubs. Briefly she wondered if this was art: the practice of instilling ideas or imagery in another person's thoughts with tangible things like sculptures or paintings. Then she dismissed it. She was much more interested in studying the detail in the bears' faces. She could almost read their expressions. If only there was a scent to go by to complete the scene.

[Berus]

“They let everything be art nowadays!” the old man standing next to Berus complained. The little bard was about to nod in agreement, hardly able to understand why someone would want to sculpt a tree out of ice, when the old geezer released a huge wad of spit right on the poor bard’s boots! It was a marvelous specimen, as far as spit goes, and it nearly covered his entire boot, as small as it was, with sticky gooey wetness.

Aghast yet unable to think of a way to respond to such a brutal breach of etiquette from one so old, he stood with his jaw hanging open as the old man wheezed in laughter and shuffled off to go insult some other artist’s life work. Luckily enough, the ever present falling snow dusted off his shoe to the point where the spit was hardly recognizable. This only comforted the poor guy a little bit before, emotionally scarred, he hovered like a ghost over to the next ‘beautiful’ sculpture.

It was some odd depiction of two bears fighting, both of them masterfully rendered lifelike by many, many hours of tireless toil. His hands ached to think of how much the poor artist’s hands were tortured in the very boring work of making a couple of mundane animals fight in ice form. Sculpting was a little beyond his understanding, sadly, or he found that he could not stick to such a boring, repetitive task without losing his sanity. How his friend Jasten managed to do this kind of stuff was beyond him; his friend’s constant tirades about his work were perhaps the only dull part in their friendship.

Berus cast his eyes about the sculpture for a bit to see some sort of mark, some signature that would identify the madman that had managed to produce this. Whoever it was, he truly intended to confront before he lost it completely and went berserk. What kind of person would actually take the time to sculpt even the very fur of such a mundane and quite frankly ugly animal when it would take much less time to hunt and stuff a real one? Yeah, a couple of real bears would be nice! They could even be moved in one desired, placed into different battle stances every week or so to keep things fresh and new.

Berus’s eyes lit up to a bright, sparking green as he considered his stroke of genius. He would most certainly mention this idea to Jasten when the strange chap finally got over the whole debt thing! Who knew, perhaps the whole area would be filled with stuffed animals that were more lifelike than any piece of mere ice. Sure, it would lose the magical shine that graced the ice when the sun hit it just right, but that was a small price to pay for the huge amount of time and energy saved!

He heard a crunch to his right and looked up, noticing for the first time that he stood beside a tall, white haired yet youthful looking woman garbed in a massive, obviously warm and worn trench coat. The white hair struck him as very, very odd! He could think of no one in all of Avanthal who possessed this trait at such a young age, but after a moment he chalked it up to very graceful aging. Perhaps she was older than she looked and managed to keep her beauty safe from the ravaging hands of time?

Berus noticed that she was staring at the sculpture rather intensely, the ice seeming to melt under her critical gaze. Her expression seemed guarded yet showed strains of both approval and disapproval for the artwork, if he read correctly. Berus hoped that, perhaps, she had just been stricken with the same notion as he had only a moment earlier; that sculpting animals was just a boring waste of time!

Taking a chance, the little bard edged closer and spoke to her out of the side of his mouth, pretending that his gaze was trapped by the sculpture. “Seems a waste of time to spend so long sculpting ugly animals like that, don’t you think?” he commented casually, masking his hope that perhaps the strange white haired woman was a kindred soul.

[Younger]

Hidden in their pockets, Younger's slender human hands balled into fists as another human drew near. She didn't like to be approached by strangers, especially from the flank, but she reminded herself that humans were social creatures and that this sort of thing was actually friendly gesture. After all, she hadn't forgotten the incident a little some years ago outside the barracks when she first ventured out with Kris. The Vantha were so used to the Icewatch polar bears being intelligent, docile things, that one might assume the younger were even cuter and more playful. The lesson learned for both the human and Younger was... valuable, if not bloody and maybe a little brutal. Younger tongued one of her fangs thoughtfully. She'd lost several of her baby teeth that day. It was understandable then that she was rather proud of the self control she practice as the young man drew in closer. He even spoke to her, presumably to "strike up" conversation, as she'd heard it worded. This was turning out to be a promising interaction with another human. She could learn much from this. What actually came out of his mouth however was not something she could have been prepared for. Flinching, Younger slowly turned her head to stare at the dark haired stranger. Her eyes flushed from a placid sapphire blue to a passionate, vibrant violet as she squinted at him in disbelief. A quiet growl unfurled itself in her throat. At first she wondered if she misunderstood him. Perhaps he thought the sculpture. Maybe it wasn't distorted enough and he preferred more "artistic" design. But that sculpture, in Younger's eyes, was a near perfect representation of an emotional clash between two polar bears. Even if he was referring to the sculpture, it didn't remove the sting of his remark. An insult to that statue was an insult to bearkind. "Did you just say..." Younger snarled, baring her elongated ursine fangs as she spoke, "...that bears... are ugly?" The evening sky tossed a swift breeze through the air at that moment, which rustled through Younger's thick white hair. It almost felt deliberate. As if a divine hand were trying to make itself known by emphasizing the drama of the moment.

[Berus]

Berus sighed as the woman replied. She was obviously not a kindred soul but rather one of the many art-lovers that were scattered all about Avanthal. Heck, she might even be the artist by her expression! She seemed to be personally affronted by the fact that he had just insulted the ice sculpture, so he figured that she must either be or be close to the one who had probably spent about a year smacking ice with a hammer to make some stupid animal look realistic. In fact, the woman seemed to actually be sending some odd primal growl at him, though he figured it was just the whistling wind getting trapped in his ears.

He turned about to face the strange woman, figuring that he might have a bit of fun here. “Well, yes, actually. They’re too oddly proportioned and their fur is just too coarse and well… ugly! At least bunnies have those cute little ears and most animals have fur that at least looks partially descent!” He responded, his tone a little exasperated as he explained exactly why bears were ugly. Really, to him, it was so readily apparent it shouldn’t need to be explained.

He turned back to look at the statue with an overly critical squint. “But what really bothers me about this is that someone spent all this time chopping away at ice just to make a few random bears. Why wouldn’t they just sculpt something new and fantastic, or something that you don’t see prowling around outside every day?” he asked, his tone truly expressing his confusion. “At least something magnificent and not so ugly would be nice. And besides, if you wanted to look at bears, why not just hunt them and stuff them? Then you could have a real live bear with real live fur to gawp at instead of some piece of ice that you spent forever working on.”

He ranted on and on, his tirade growing stronger and stronger as he brutally assaulted the poor unknown artist. He completely ignored the woman’s responses up to this point, but finally stopped and turned about to view her expression. He could only hope his words had swayed the woman to his cause!

[Younger]

OOCSorry this is so short. The original post was long but I lost it. It was very hard to rewrite it. Oddly proportioned... fur is just too course... ugly? Frozen by pure shock, Younger stared at the man as he just went on and ON. How could anyone, let alone a Vantha, speak this much ill about bears? He was wrong about everything! Bears were STRENGTH! And courage, and power, the warriors of the north! And here was this imbecile, this... simian, mouthing off like some... some arrogant arctic fox! Incredulous disbelief slowly melted into a seething, boiling rage. Younger turned away from the sculpture to directly face the stranger. Her irises had flooded with a dark, rich crimson hue, burning as she glared at him. Pure, unbridled emotion surged through her veins as she planted both her feet solidly on the ground. How good it would have felt to destroy her clothing and transform right then - perhaps knock this fool's head off his shoulders. "Hunt... them...?!" Younger echoed in an uneven, barely-controlled tone of voice. "St... STUFF them?!" And she'd been doing so well, too. Younger was still getting used to people - reading their expressions, interpreting what she'd been told was called "body language." There was no joke or miscommunication that could justify the profanity coming from that boy's mouth. That was pure polar bear hate. "You... bastard!" Younger lunged forward faster than she was able to stop herself, launching a balled fist into the man's face. "How can you SAY THAT?! Bears are majestic! Powerful! They PROTECT Avanthal and you want to hunt them down and STUFF THEM?!" Younger shook off her fist, then cracked her knuckles. She shook her head, snarling again. "I'm going to make you wish you had one here to protect you now."

[Berus]

The woman’s reaction to his words was strange at best. She spat out a few angry, almost shocked words of her own, her tone dangerously edging toward anger and outright outrage. Berus cast his eyes down in disappointment, knowing that he was alone in his brilliant enterprise. Alas, he had obviously offended a great friend of the sculptor who had-

Wham!

Berus’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared up at the strange white haired woman. She was strangely much, much higher above him that he remembered and the angle seemed to be significantly changed. The landscaped behind her had disappeared entirely and now he could only see a snowy, cloudy sky and a sun that was struggling to send its rays down to the frozen city.

Then he realized that he was now lying in a pleasantly soft blanket of snow and his nose was crying out in agony as it poured a hot liquid down his face. Berus reflexively brought a hand up to stop the flow of blood as his eyes widened further. Immediately, he cried out incoherently against the uncalled-for, brutal assault, but she brushed it away without even noticing and threatened him in a voice that told him a bloody nose was the least of his worries.

He brought the hand that wasn’t holding his nose down and started sliding backwards through the snow, using its meager strength to propel his small body away from the threat. He whimpered out a few words as he retreated, still totally confused as to why she had hit him all of a sudden! “I uh.. What… I didn’t mean any insult… Uh…”

The dangerous woman did not seem deterred by either his words or his retreat, so the little bard resorted to desperate measures. He clutched a ball of snow in his hands and tossed it full force toward the woman’s face. Berus rolled backwards to his feet and brought both hands up defensively as he prepared for an onslaught. This, of course, caused his nose to continue its steady stream of blood down his face.

Sadly enough, the red liquid did not taste sweet at all.

[Younger]

"How could you not mean any--" BAMF! And then Younger had a mouth full of snow. Staggering backward in sheer surprise, she shook her head violently. Flecks of frozen and melted snow flew in a spray from her hair, and she brought her arm up to wipe her face. Her eyes were ablaze with rage as she pulled her arm away, locked solidly on this impudent brat in front of her. She squinted as she looked him over. Younger was having trouble reading the boy's face. It was not contorted in anger or rage, or even aggression - just bloody. Yet he showed intention to fight in his stance, even if the stance was a defensive one, as far as she could tell. Of course it was, she had thrown the first punch. She did not smell his fear, however. The stranger who'd spoken such gravely insulting remarks about bears was not afraid of fighting her, but he also didn't seem to be expecting that she would have responded that way. He was not malicious, nor was he prey. It occurred to her then that perhaps the stranger didn't know what she was. She was in her human form after all, and she so rarely left the barracks in this manner - at least on her own. Ultimately, that didn't matter. She had been slighted, and indirectly challenged - bears were power, majesty, and courage. The fact that the stranger thought otherwise mean he had a terrible misconception about such beautiful creatures that needed to be corrected. If Younger opted out of this fight now, he might be proving him right. It would be prudent to show him her true form, but first... she had a few things to teach him. Bears don't back down from a whelp's meager challenge. Unbuttoning her coat (something she had taken weeks to perfect after receiving it as a gift), she slid the article off her shoulders and then tossed it in the snow. She was clothed in only a thin, form-fitting long-sleeved shirt and pants, both of them black. It was her training uniform from the barracks, which allowed free movement and minimal shielding against the cold of Avanthal (most of which was neutralized by her gnosis mark). Running a hand back over her hair, Younger finished the gesture by quickly snapping into an aggressive stance. Eyeing down her adversary, she had nothing to say to him as she steeled herself for a fight. This wasn't a training session like back in the barracks. The danger here was entirely real. It felt so much more thrilling. A dark smile betrayed her excitement, appearing just an instant before she rushed forward at him. In the seconds before the closed the distance between them, she threw the force of her momentum into her balled fist, aiming it for the man's abdomen.