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[Endir Vuras]

Winter 23, 515 AV - The Rearing Stallion

It was one of those rare times of the day when Endir didn't look utterly horrid. His messy tuft of chestnut hair was combed, cream tunic washed and laced, his boots had even been polished over to glint finely in torch-light. Overhead the inverted sea of ashen clouds still roiled dangerously, threatening to heave at any given moment. The squire favoured the first ring of the city, mostly because he enjoyed the spectacles of people ogling. A smile danced over his lips, eyes caught by a man in a rumple-sleeved doublet, slashes of red and white cutting down the breast to contrast the violet feather reaching from his poufy cap. The rains began, cold eddies ushering away the meandering folk of the street and Endir darted to the closest building.

Having ducked beneath a red and white painted sign of a horse, he hadn't even realized where he'd headed. The squire himself entered at a befitting gallop that turned to a stumble. He had undoubtedly earned a wry look or two in his entrance, but took no notice; outwardly at least. You thick-headed buffoon, you're supposed to be a squire. The enormous hearth was a relief, sweltering heat quickly drying off damp clothes and skin, his eyes taken by the amorphic shapes the flames took, he couldn't stare for long, it hurt. Knowing where he'd landed he moved across the room with the grace of a wolf to undo the embarrassment he'd done himself, greeting Kevith with a warm smile. "A mug of your cheapest Ale, please." He was only a squire after all.

Turning, he rested his backside on the bar edge, picking wistfully at his sodden breeches which were now plastered to his thighs, he glanced up and began to pay attention to the other patrons.

[Piper Quinn]

Piper sat rosining up the bow to the violin the bard played. The youth sat near the hearth where soon their figure would be a shadow against the flames. Happy with the bow the bard stood and the tavern quieted... Some. A tavern, or a good one at least was never truly quiet. Dressed in dark breeches, a plain white shirt, and a head topped with messy raven hair Piper gave off the look of happy simplicity. Nothing fancy or gaudy. No act. Just a teen with a worn fiddle in hand and a confident smirk plastered on their face. Placing the fiddle to their chin, the teen took a breath and placed the bow to the fiddle and a song began to spill forth. It washed over the tavern. Perfect. The feeling was perfect from the scent of food to the warmth, crackles, and dancing shadows of the fire. The bard's eyes closed, lost in the song. Each note, bridge, and rest given a life of it's own; if only for a tick or two. Soon the song came to an end, and the bard's eyes fluttered opened. Just like that the magic of the music was gone to the sound of drunken cheers and hollers. With a smile the bard took a bow before taking a swig of water. Glancing around the tavern Piper took note of who was present many were regulars, although there seemed to be a newcomer or two. The bard gave the new faces an acknowledging nod that spoke 'Welcome! Enjoy yourself!' Once more the bow was raised to the fiddle followed by a relaxed breath and the magic returned filling the room. Piper's mind wandered to the newcomers. Well, they already had their first impressions. Whether they returned to the tavern again was up to them now. The music had done it's part and the young bard was happy with it. A familiar and favored song found it's way to the fiddle. It was Vantha in origin Piper knew as it had been passed down from generation to generation. It told a story without a single word spoken, uttered, or whispered. Somehow you just knew what was happening within the song. The bard couldn't help but sway to the melody. But all too soon this song too came to an end and the bard took a bow. A pleased look on their face. Piper took a seat among a table of papers and quill not far from one of the newer faces. Another nod of acknowledgement.

[Endir Vuras]

At the first nod from the bard, Endir flashed a friendly smile and settled in for the song. He enjoyed music immensely, his childhood had been spent wandering between inns and taverns, prowling about and enjoying bards and performers alike. More often than not he'd find himself tossed out on the cobbled street. Now he just absorbed what was played. Every note and bar that touched the air in melody. The smile still split his face and his eyes glittered with reminiscence. The second song was much the same, imagination taking him off on a wild journey through trees and dunes alike.

The ale arrived in a tall silver stein, its rim fringed by brass scrollwork, a frothy top lapping at its edges. Two pieces of silver later and he was sipping contentedly. That was when Piper loped her way over to the bar. "You play very well." There was confidence in his voice, almost forced, because he wasn't entirely sure whether this bard was a man or woman. He stifled the desire to squint and crease his brows. Surely he couldn't be in this much of a predicament. Thunder rolled outside, the flashing of sheet lightning outlining the door in brilliant shades of white and washed-out blue, dusty window panes smudged with descending droplets.

"I'm Endir." He announced after his brief moment of thought, the same friendly smile struck across his face. He was a young man, chin bristled by patchy facial hair and brown eyes twinkling pleasantly. Man or woman, it didn't matter, the music did though; and Rhysol claim him if he didn't squeeze out one more song from her.

[Piper Quinn]

Piper smiled up from her notes, "Thank you for the compliment. But I can always get better." She chuckled to herself happily. A compliment. By a new listener too! Piper focused her attention back to the squire, "Don't tell me you got caught up in all that rain and thunder?! Ah well, you'll dry out fast in here anyway." Looking out one of the windows she smiled, "I like the rain though, has it's own melody." Back to the papers. Suddenly she pulled out a black score sheet, inspiration was preparing to strike. "Endir." The name was pondered a moment. "It's nice to meet you, Endir. I'm Piper. Also the Purple Forest Bard if you ever hear anyone speak of that." A quill was dipped into a vial of scarlet ink and words were scrawled in Vani and then the notes began to flow and take shape on the paper forming melodies and harmonies. "Sorry, inspiration strikes me without warning!" The bard beamed. The ink was set aside a few lines of music later. Her muse had left her and she sighed. Her attention returned to the squire who she could tell was trying to subtly figure out what she was. A smile found it's way to her face. Maybe she should outright tell the poor guy... She looked him over for a tick. She guessed him handsome enough, although that didn't matter much with Piper. The prettiest man in the world could walk in, but if his demeanor wasn't to her liking... What was the point? Perhaps...if he kept talking.

[Endir Vuras]

"Piper" Endir mulled over the name in mimicry, a mock expression of thought snarling his face. A wide grin worked through the ugly contortions soon after, eyes glimmering with youthful mirth. Bopping his head politely, the squire fell into a rudimentary bow. "A delight to meet you, Piper." Another bard now occupied the wooden dais, lute in hand producing a cheery melody that saw foot-stomping and table-slapping from surly men scattered about the place. Endir just watched with a grin. There were a few familiar faces amid the crowd. Tomas, a fair-skinned fellow squire with a gaunt face, skin and muscle clinging to the bone that made it look akin to a skull, his sunken eyes without any glint of mirth or concern. Ceryl was laughing merrily with a pretty woman in arm, the youth was lean and tall, the sharp profile of his face framed by curling golden locks, and his broad shoulders hinted at swiftness. He was also a squire.

Endir looked back to Piper, voice raised to eclipse the rain on the window and the rocking door that contended with the sharp gusts of wind. "Where'd you learn to play that, Madam Piper?" He had drawn his conclusion, they were a woman, well every inch of him hoped it was, he'd just called them madam.

Adjusting the sword astride his waist, he navigated the bare blade-point away from the bar, not wanting to earn Kevith's disfavour by leaving a knick in the timber. The weapon rode the squire's hip like a part of his body, the sleek tongue of iron was without inscription, no fancy scrollwork or sinuous etchings decorated it and the hand-an-a-half length hilt was wrapped by tattered leather. He waited for Piper's response in polite quiet, expression intent as if he'd like nothing more than to hear what she had to say.

[Piper Quinn]

Piper gave a light-hearted laugh, "Me a Madam? Why Endir my dear squire... I am barely over nineteen! I hardly qualify as a madam or even a lady at that! Perhaps a Miss?..." He had made his choice, "How did you figure it out? That I'm female by birth?" She flagged down a waitress and asked for an ale, and something she wouldn't end up feeling tomorrow. "Not many get it right, you know. I take it as a compliment that I do a good job covering it up. I mean why dress like a lady, when I've never felt like one. I never changed, hit my teens and nothing changed... Not really a full on woman, but I'm not a guy either. I'm just... me." Gods she had rambled on. "I'm sorry, I rambled there a bit..." "As for where I learned, my mom's Vantha; Snowsong to be precise. My fiddle's been handed down for who knows how long... I guess I just grew up knowing. I listened to my mom and learned. This fiddle's a part of me, I wouldn't be who I am without it." She placed the well loved instrument on the table. "I've heard this thing's even played in Morwen's court... I even know the song preformed there." A stein was placed before the bard as the snowy song she had mentioned floated around her mind. She took a sip and cleared her throat. "So, are you new to the squirehood? I know a good number of squires, but I've never heard of you before." She smiled only now would one notice the delicate feminine features of the bard's face. The tavern cheered as the other bard finished their song and Piper was no exception cheering loudly. "You know what? I think I'll play you guys a little treat. A song straight from Lady Morwen's court." With a happy smile she made her way to where she played. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and the delicate song danced around the tavern enchanting the place with it's winter magic. One could imagine the splendor of Morwen's ice castle to the wondrous grace and beauty of the winter queen herself. Piper had grown up playing this very song millions of times, however this performance had her slightly unnerved. Maybe it was because she knew someone was listening more than all the others. Piper's song :

[Endir Vuras]

Endir had all the observance and bearing a predator has, spare for the keen slant of his mouth where a half-grin perked with joy as she rambled on about her identity. It didn't bother him, in fact the rapt interest increased, arching eyebrows an indicator of his climbing attention. "Well, Miss Piper." He had corrected himself there, acknowledging her wishes from earlier. "It wasn't easy but... well, I've never met a man named Piper." He nodded, the angled grin remaining. Her apologies were met with a flat palm, closed eyes and shaking head. "Please, don't apologise, you're nice to listen to."

Her talks of being one with the fiddle saw him finger the crossguard of his sword absently. That weapon had seen him through danger and sorrow, travelled the darkest of passageways and glimmered triumphantly at their ends. Though his companion was made for the strivings of war, not art. Roused from his thoughts when Piper headed for the stage, that smirk returned and his wide shoulders slumped in relaxation. Tomas had spotted Endir and brandished a rueful grin. Tomas and Endir had always been at odds when it came to swordplay, often blade to blade in the training grounds, mistakes proved to be one another's undoing when pitted as opponents, neither able to gain the upper hand through pure skill alone. Evenly matched foes. Endir only nodded in return, still sour about the large bruise mapping out his ribcage where Tomas' wooden weapon had found its way through his guard.

Rubbing gingerly at his side, the dark-haired squire listened and watched, his little knowledge of Morwen carrying his fantasies on a wild aimless path. Snow-capped mountains stabbed at a cloud-quilted sky, sharp howls of wind rose snow from the broad tundras and sculpted conical glaciers that stretched out farther than the eye could see. The ice castle stood between two peaks, sheer faced cliffs were grey where snow couldn't patch it, keeping the brunt of blizzards from toppling the thin towers of the fortress. Iced walls captured light, brilliant shades of a million hues glittering in a blinding display of perpetual beauty. Of course, it was only his imagination and soon it faded to the dreary layout of the Inn. At least Piper was still there, she could be the brilliant shade to hold his attention, even without the frame of an ice castle to immortalize her. He folded his arms.

[Piper Quinn]

The court music ended and the bard gave a bow. With a smile Piper walked toward the other bard who had played before her. She leaned in, "Hey, it might be the weather and the heat in here... But a few of your notes sounded sharp, try loosening up your strings a little. Okay give me a C." Piper listened to the other bard's note. Lifting her fiddle Piper played back a note. The two went back and forth playing a note, "Okay now together." The bards played a final note together before Piper nodded. "It sounds in tune now." She gave the bard a pat on the back. She caught her new bar buddy staring at another man. Piper wasn't sure what was going on. Sitting down next to Endir she questioned him, "Hey, that guy you were looking at... Is he giving you trouble? Want me to get someone to kick him out?" She eyed the man until he looked at her. A surprised look found it's way to her face and she turned away grumbling. Taking a drink Piper returned to her song writing. She'd pluck a string or a chord once in a while or hum. Fingers played silently in the air. She was so consumed she momentarily forgot she had company. "I'm sorry! I'm not used to having company at work. I mean other performers, yeah. But we all do stuff like this. There's not much conversation... and when there is it's over work." She took another drink and looked out the rain streaked window. After a tick or two she muttered to no one really, "That lute sounds better now... Not as sharp as before. It's the weather combined with the heat here in the tavern, messes with the wood and strings..."