Closed Tales in the Wood

[Gwin]

Spring 34, 514 AV

Gwin had been wandering the streets and docks of Zeltiva for nearly a season, but she still found shops she hadn’t visited before, locations she’d never spotted during previous strolls. While avoiding East Street altogether, she’d taken a liking to exploring the narrow alleys and cobblestone streets of West Street. In one of the little shops she’d bought a flute and its case at the beginning of Spring.

Now she was close to broke, but she still enjoyed looking at wares and art displayed in shop windows. Sometimes she entered shops pretending to be a willing customer, yet leaving without spending any coin every time.

That particular day she’d explored the alleyways and worked herself deep into the labyrinth up to the point when she didn’t know where she was anymore. Of course, she could rise above the rooftops with a single bat of her wings, but that wouldn’t serve her purpose very well. Instead she inspected the houses and shops lining the alley even more carefully than usual.

Coming to a low stone arch, she discovered the bridge and a modest sign that was easy to miss. It read Bohrnn&GoldWoerth, Gadgets and Toys. Wooden figurines of ponies and soldiers immediately came to mind, painted in vibrant colors, carved by delicate hands and with an eye for detail. Toys? While she imagined the wares of that shop, a new melody grew inside her, sounding like a lullaby, but too lively for sleep.

In order to explore that melody and gather inspiration, Gwin descended the staircase with her fin brushing the steps and entered the shop. At first she was afraid of sweeping wares from the shelves with her wings in the narrow interior, but then she managed to hover in the middle of the room. In a simple Zeltivan craft shop, she probably stood out like a porcelain statue among dull metal: Green butterfly wings with black and white spots, a black band across her chest the only clothing, a furry tail and muscular fin the color of algae.

Until someone addressed her, she’d simply inspect the shelves and admire the gadgets on display.

[Hajt]

Making a living by one's self at 13 years of age was not an uncommon practice, and it was one that suited Hajt perhaps more than most. Not that working at Bohrnn & GoldWoerth was particularly easy, mind, but the work at once gave him a sense of fulfillment, a creative outlet, and a steady paycheck. It was a daily grind, unlike his time with his old mentor... but that was to be expected of a more structured, professional environment. Plus, there was something soothing about having a schedule to keep.

For today, though, that schedule had run its course. He had once again spent seven and a half hours in his own little world, eyes glued to the wood in front of him--when it was wood, anyway. There would always be little halts in his carving to paint faces or clothes, or sew bodies for the dolls, or the like. But the wood, he had a special connection with. Today, time called him to leave before his doll was finished. Given the choice between leaving it there on the workbench to be finished tomorrow and bringing her home to finish, he chose the latter option.

This doll had already had quite a bit of its work done. Made of a soft, light-colored wood to reduce the needed amount of paint, he had poured as much of himself as possible into the little face; a reasonably neutral expression on her mouth, but a firm look to her eyes. Viewed as a whole, she was going to look as he felt: soft but determined, and just a bit lonely. Not that it would matter as she sat on a shelf. She would likely catch some little girl's eye regardless of expression, so long as she was pretty. Then again, details that only truly matter to the artist is what separates an artist from a lathe or a sewing machine.

And so he walked with the half-painted doll in his arm. As Hajt was making his customary exit, through the storefront just to see what had or hadn't sold, or what else others had made, he noticed something unusual. A woman, an Akvatari specifically, was busy inspecting the shelves.

He halted after seeing her. Managing the sales floor wasn't anywhere near his job, but he felt the need to help, if he could, anyway. The lady was nearly silent, save for the quiet fluttering of wings, so he spoke very softly. "Can I help you find something?" he asked her.

[Gwin]

.





Gwin was admiring a particularly beautiful doll with cherry red lips, skin pale as white lilies and velvety hair that was darker than the depths of the sea. Her dress was of blue and black with white accents which reminded her of the butterfly wings typical for Akvatari. Of course, the doll didn’t feature a tail, although she wondered… were all dolls made to resemble humans?

Being addressed, she turned around to meet the clear gaze of a child. Immediately another encounter with a boy came to mind, but the one looking up to her lacked that stench of age and rot the other had carried. His words were softer too. “Not particularly. I was just curious after seeing the sign… I’ve never come across this shop before.”

Her watery green eyes fell to the thing in his arms, a doll half-finished with only parts painted and parts still pale. The naked wood fascinated her, speaking of the intricacies of the creation process and the beauty of its different stages. Something caught in the middle of it, even more, something material unlike her music.

Looking back to the lovely doll on display, she lifted a hand and slowly stroked her cheek. “Are you the maker of all these? They’re beautiful. I didn’t know toys could be works of art. How do you decide on their appearance and facial expression?” Her voice had an airy quality to it and her words came slowly as if her head were in the clouds permanently.

[Hajt]

The woman seemed... Well, not sad, exactly. Melancholy? Then again, her people were known for that attitude. Hajt decided to answer her questions without trying to figure out her motivations. "Well... I didn't make all of them, but I made that one," he answered her first question, gesturing at the doll the woman was stroking.

He continued, "And the expressions--" He stopped. He searched around in his mind for the right words, not finding them. What was it, exactly? The faces came from inside him, of course, but he had no idea where. He decided it would be best to just say what came to his mind first. "Well, I guess they come from me." That was all he could muster on that point. Perhaps he would change the subject.

"I take it you're an artist?" She was, he knew, or at least a professional critic. No casual observer speaks of art as if it were sacred, or looked that deeply into a doll.

[Gwin]

.





Her pale eyes lit up with understanding. Looking at the shelves, Gwin realized how foolish an idea it was to expect him to fill all of them. No, there had to be other woodworkers, tailors, painters hidden away from curious eyes. Apparently the boy had left the workshop for the day and she’d been lucky enough to enter at that moment.

As he was searching for the right words, Gwin took the doll into gentle hands and retraced the lines of her face with two fingers. The doll didn’t feature any particular expression, but if one looked close enough, one found the corners of her mouths curled and her eyes narrowed just a little. Illusion? Gwin didn’t think so. Art was all about things people saw in objects and there were countless interpretations.

Still looking at the doll, she tried to put her ideas into words. Those were fickle, more difficult to handle than music. “Do you take what you feel in the moment of creation and put it on their faces or do they speak to you? Do they have names and personalities of their own or is that something to be determined by their owners?” The longer she spoke, the more did her voice resemble melody. It was as if she wanted to sing, yet restrained herself.

As the topic shifted from the dolls, Gwin carefully placed the one she was holding back in the shelf as if tucking a child into its bed. The thought of asking its price didn’t even cross her mind. The Akvatari simply watched and admired as that was all one could do with a piece of art. Then she turned to the boy with a flick of her fin. “Yes. Music is the way of expression I chose for myself, instrument play and song. Sometimes I draw things. Do you sketch your work before you make it like this?” Pointing at the wooden body in his arms, she wondered if he could teach her anything.

[Hajt]

Hajt did notice the subtle melody ringing in her voice--just barely. That didn't distract him too much, as her question rather had him thinking. Their faces...? A thought struck him, based on his teacher's instruction; he tried to answer each of her questions at once.

"Well... Wood's not like paper. I mean, most paper is made of wood, but it's been ground down and pulped until all the life is out of it. Raw wood," he said gesturing at his little half-finished doll, "still feels like it did when it was alive. So, I just try..." This was a hard concept. How did old Mor put it, again?

"I just try to bring the life back into it. It's easier with animal forms, because they're, uh, closer." Mor had taught him to carve a portrayal of life into the once-living. It was like a memorial to what the plant had seen, a way of preserving it as a living structure rather than a material for use. The respect of life and death that had been passed on to Hajt from Mor was clear in the boy's head, but putting it into words was frustrating at best, nearly impossible at worst.

"I guess the human dolls look how I feel, sometimes... but that's just because the wood isn't human. It's like, making it look human requires more humanity than making it look natural." Maybe that didn't make sense. "But I don't plan on it. That's just the way it is. The wood does most of the work."

And that's as good as he could do. A bit of a tough mental exercise, but he managed to shake it off enough to ask a question of his own, possibly to clarify his own confused point to her. "What about you? Do you write down your music before you sing or play?"

[Gwin]

.






Gwin nodded along and listened to what the boy said. It was obvious he had some difficulty putting his feelings and impressions into words, but she was waiting and gazing at him patiently. When speaking with her, people shouldn’t feel rushed. The Akvatari had dedicated her entire life to art and its forms, after all. Step by step, she came to understand a fraction of what the boy was trying to say. “So it depends on the kind of material what shapes can be carved from it? That never occurred to me, but it makes sense… I guess.”

His last words rang true inside her heart. The dark green fin curled into itself as Gwin regarded him with a sad glance. “In the end, that’s how art works, isn’t it? We listen or observe and then we try to record what we hear or see. We can’t even control the result.”

It was intriguing to watch the boy struggle for words and eventually succeed in answering a question. However, she also noticed how he moved on to ground that was easier to tread almost immediately. As she was looking around the shop to admire its other goods, Gwin noticed the shop keepers were stepping around her wings carefully. Obviously she was taking up space and had no intention of buying anything.

Thus she gestured towards the door she’d entered through chimes before. “Would you mind stepping outside? Oh, you were probably going somewhere, right? We could continue our conversation and walk a bit if you like.”

If he agreed, Gwin would leave the small shop and descend the staircase. Once out under the sky, she stretched her limbs like a lazy cat and looked back to her companion. “Maybe introductions are in order… I’m Gwin. As for your question, sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. I usually write down music for others since I don’t need the sheets to play.” A confusing statement, perhaps, but that was how she did it. It simply didn’t occur to Gwin that others forgot tunes they’d heard.

[Hajt]

Hajt was perfectly willing to join the lady outside. He understood well what she meant about art, to some degree, and she was friendly enough; the only place he had to go now was home, and he could put that off for a bit.

He listened to her explanation of sheets, and figured he should already have thought of that. Her race was preternaturally gifted in music, or so he had heard, so it makes sense that they wouldn't need to have it written down. That said, he responded to her introduction in kind: "Well, that makes sense. I'm Hajt, by the way."

The encounter was thus far proving rather surreal; Hajt decided to treat it like he would any other pleasant discussion and ask the obvious.

"So, do you live in Zeltiva, or are you just visiting?"

[Gwin]

.






Despite her own intense relationship with music, Gwin was a little surprised at the ease the boy absorbed her words with. Perhaps it was due to his age or experience with a different form of art, although woodworks were as far away from music as Akvatari were from the Gods.

As they went outside, down the stairs and on the street, Gwin took a deep breath. Narrow spaces still made her nervous although she was getting better at hiding that. “Nice to meet you, Hajt. I’m just a visitor… arrived last season. I figured it’d be a good opportunity to learn about music at the university. Staying in one place too long isn’t good though.” There she trailed off, not sure how to explain that constant pull towards the road and away from cities. It was connected with her desire to create better art – if nothing else, of that she was sure.

“Have you ever traveled before and experienced that feeling of in between?” Perhaps it was too much for a child to take in, but Gwin couldn’t stop herself. Most of what she said sounded like inner monologue, directed towards herself, although she was trying to converse with others. In an attempt to focus on Hajt more, she conjured another question. “So what do your parents do?”

[Hajt]

Hajt knew the streets very well. However, he wasn't entirely sure if they were going somewhere, or just walking to walk. Either way, he was content to follow the otherworldly girl's lead.

"No, I don't travel. I think I have everything I need here in the city." As well, old Mor had taught him of the perils of the wilds even as he was teaching him of their beauty; that reason for sticking around, however, Hajt tried to keep to himself. It didn't seem quite as dignified.

To her second question, Hajt shrugged. "My parents..." His father was a carpenter... but that had only really affected the boy when he was little. Really, his occupation was about as much as Hajt had ever been able to know about his father before he passed on, and his mother was a memory so distant as to be irrelevant. Mor had always been his family, and now he had left, too.

Hajt corrected himself out of respect, "I mean, I don't know about them. My..." He never was quite sure how to refer to his relationship to Mor. "My instructor was a teacher at the university. But he's moved on, now. What about yours? DO they mind you traveling?"