[Verified by Luminescence] Paaie

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Paaie

Postby Paaie on March 14th, 2018, 9:42 pm

Paaie is inactive for the moment
possibly returning in the summer



P A A I E
S Y N O P S I S

RACE Kelvic
SEX
AGE 3
BIRTHDATE 2 Spring 516AV
BIRTHPLACE Yahebah
LANGUAGES Shiber fluent, Common basic
L O O K S

Image Paaie is as small and lithe at just 5'2" & 60kg. She possesses curly hair, which reaches between her shoulders, and a dusky, dewy complexion. Set within her heart-shaped face are her expressive eyes and full lips, framed by thick dark brows and prominent cheekbones. In feline form Paaie is a desert serval cat. Slightly larger than a house-cat with a sleek body and disproportionately long legs. She has a sandy coloured coat dotted generously with black spots. Her fur is thick and designed to withstand the desert's extreme temperatures. Her ears are large and pointed and her eyes are a deep brown, ringed by hazel and ever-watchful. Paaie shares her serval night-vision, acute hearing and heightened sense of smell between both her forms.
Last edited by Paaie on March 16th, 2019, 11:54 pm, edited 58 times in total.
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Paaie
Player
 
Posts: 61
Words: 63026
Joined roleplay: March 14th, 2018, 9:12 pm
Race: Kelvic
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Contributor (1) Mizahar Grader (1)

Paaie

Postby Paaie on March 15th, 2018, 12:01 am

P E R S O N A L I T Y


Image
Paaie enjoys looking at things from a different perspective, thinking outside the box & seeking solutions where others may see none. She's a bohemian with a passion for drawing & dancing. A flip-side to her creativity is her lack of stability. Paaie lives chime to chime in life, dashing from one thing to another, never sitting still for long enough to think things through before often leaping into trouble. She's a free-spirit with a true sense of who she is. Whatever life throws at her, Paaie will always stay true to her nature, though this does make her stubborn and strong-willed. While Paaie will give you her all if she enjoys you, she will also leave behind things & people once they slip her fancy without an ounce of remorse. She takes little thought to other's feelings, while (hypocritically) being quite sensitive herself. Gods forbid you hurt her feelings, with her penchant for revenge—better hide that new dress or antique vase!
Last edited by Paaie on March 16th, 2019, 7:58 pm, edited 39 times in total.
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Paaie
Player
 
Posts: 61
Words: 63026
Joined roleplay: March 14th, 2018, 9:12 pm
Race: Kelvic
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Contributor (1) Mizahar Grader (1)

Paaie

Postby Paaie on March 15th, 2018, 12:05 am

F A I T H
LYKATA I

Psychometry allows the marked to touch a thing of any sort and read the past history of that object, gaining insight on where it came from, what it’s purpose was, and who crafted or created it.
Last edited by Paaie on September 7th, 2018, 12:35 pm, edited 41 times in total.
User avatar
Paaie
Player
 
Posts: 61
Words: 63026
Joined roleplay: March 14th, 2018, 9:12 pm
Race: Kelvic
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Contributor (1) Mizahar Grader (1)

Paaie

Postby Paaie on March 15th, 2018, 12:07 am

SK I L L S

CLEANING +1 1 Novice
ENDURANCE +1 1 Novice
HUNTING 10RB +1 11 Novice
INVESTIGATION 10SP +1 +1 12 Novice
MEDITATION +2 2 Novice
OBSERVATION +2 +2 +1 +5 10 Novice
ORGANIZATION +5 1 Novice
PAINTING 10SP +2 12 Novice
PHILOSOPHY +1 1 Novice
PLANNING +1 1 Novice
SINGING +1 1 Novice
SOCIALIZATION +2 +1 +4 7 Novice
STEALTH 5SP +1 6 Novice
STORYTELLING +1 1 Novice
WILDERNESS SURVIVAL: MOUNTAINS 20SP 20 Novice
WEAPON: RIBBON DAGGER 5SP 5 Novice
K N O W L E D G E

 
A B C D E
Cleaning: Dusting
Eavesdropping is the best way to learn new things
☼ Eyris: Goddess of wisdom, knowledge & history

 
F G H I J
Ghosts may haunt the most unusual of places
Guzo Yhavao: Lhavit's tea-maker
Investigation: Following your nose

 
K L M N O
Location: Bharani Library
Lhavit location: Den of the Lost
Lhavit location: Zintia Rest
Lhavit location: Zurya Plaza
Lykata: Using the gnosis can be overwhelming
Meditation: Closing your eyes makes it easier to focus
Meditation: Less noise makes it easier to focus
Meditation: Not as easy as it seems
Meditation: Too boring!
Misha: Was good at meditating
Most folk do not appreciate nudity

 
P Q R S T
Paaie: Doesn't like meditation
Paaie: Easily distracted
Paaie: Has a little bit of an ego
Paaie: Remembers Yahebah fondly
Paaie: Searching for Eyris
Planning: Warmer clothes for the cold seasons
Raeyn: Alchemist at the Library
Rostam: Myrian spiritist in Lhavit

 
U W X Y Z
☼ Wilderness Survival: Where there are plants there is water
Yahebah: Paaie's happy place
Last edited by Paaie on September 25th, 2018, 7:05 am, edited 65 times in total.
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Paaie
Player
 
Posts: 61
Words: 63026
Joined roleplay: March 14th, 2018, 9:12 pm
Race: Kelvic
Character sheet
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Medals: 2
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Paaie

Postby Paaie on March 15th, 2018, 12:07 am

H O U S I N G

Image Paaie rents a simple room in the SOLAR WINDS overlooking the Surya Plaza on Zintia Peak. It's furnished modestly with simple wood bed, chair & desk, a soft rounded chair, a hearth & a plump couch, decorated with blankets dyed in warm hues. Visitors will often find parchment, charcoal & sketches strewn across the floor amidst piles of clothes, creating a messy, lived in feel.
 
 
I N V E N T O R Y

 
Special
Image Amulet Of The Ojimisst Summons an enshrouding cooling moist mist, concealing the user's presence up to 30ft in any environment, even a parched desert, & once a bell it can concentrate it into a cup of water.
Image Bone Dagger of Corrosion Activated on word command, the dagger’s blade becomes coated in a corrosive acid, which renders the first minor wound caused by the weapon to be upgraded to moderate.

 
Household
Lantern
Mauve wool blanket (used good)

 
Clothes
Linen undergarments ˢᵖ
Large linen blouse ˢᵖ
Black wool leggings ˢᵖ
Peach llama wool scarf
Teal llama wool scarf
Tan wool coat ˢᵖ
Leather sandals ˢᵖ

 
Vanity
Comb ˢᵖ
Razor ˢᵖ
Soap ˢᵖ

 
Tools
Artists Kit Heirloom
Backpack ˢᵖ
Waterskin ˢᵖ
Eating knife ˢᵖ
Flint & steel ˢᵖ
Last edited by Paaie on September 7th, 2018, 12:44 pm, edited 57 times in total.
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Paaie
Player
 
Posts: 61
Words: 63026
Joined roleplay: March 14th, 2018, 9:12 pm
Race: Kelvic
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Contributor (1) Mizahar Grader (1)

Paaie

Postby Paaie on March 15th, 2018, 12:08 am

L E D G E R

 
162ki 0tk 2jk
SUM 518 RENT -45.5 162.02ki
SUM 518 EXPENSES -135 208.42ki
Dyed Llama Wool Scarf (2) -3.3 343.42ki
SPR 518 EXPENSES -135 346.72ki
SPR 518 RENT -9 481.72ki
Ribbon dagger -1 490.72ki
Blanket Dyed, Good Used -0.28 491.72ki
Lantern -7 493ki
Housing cash-in +500 600ki ˢᵖ
START SPRING 518 +100 100ki ˢᵖ

gm:ki
sm:tk
cm:jk
Last edited by Paaie on September 7th, 2018, 12:43 pm, edited 36 times in total.
User avatar
Paaie
Player
 
Posts: 61
Words: 63026
Joined roleplay: March 14th, 2018, 9:12 pm
Race: Kelvic
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Contributor (1) Mizahar Grader (1)

Paaie

Postby Paaie on March 15th, 2018, 12:23 am

R E L A T I O N S H I P S
Last edited by Paaie on September 7th, 2018, 12:42 pm, edited 31 times in total.
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Paaie
Player
 
Posts: 61
Words: 63026
Joined roleplay: March 14th, 2018, 9:12 pm
Race: Kelvic
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Contributor (1) Mizahar Grader (1)

Paaie

Postby Paaie on March 15th, 2018, 2:16 pm

T H R E A D S

Image SPRING 518
The (Un)Skilful Art of Meditation
Spring at the Falls


SUMMER 518
"Curiosity Killed The Cat"
An evenin' at the Library


FALL 518
Inactive

WINTER 518
Inactive
 
 
 
 
 
 
Last edited by Paaie on March 15th, 2019, 7:14 am, edited 11 times in total.
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Paaie
Player
 
Posts: 61
Words: 63026
Joined roleplay: March 14th, 2018, 9:12 pm
Race: Kelvic
Character sheet
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Medals: 2
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Paaie

Postby Paaie on March 15th, 2019, 7:13 am

GNOSIS STORY
Knowledge Seeker


    " I' m afraid we won't be going anywhere just yet." Misha sighed, rubbing his hand along the scrub of his beard. He'd gone two days without shaving and there were sweat patches on his beige tunic. Paaie knew that meant Misha was stressed. They were going on a Big Journey across the Ekytol deserts.

They'd follow Syna's setting horizon until they came upon The Kabrin Road, Misha had said. "What's that?" Paaie had asked, and Misha had smiled, a joy reaching into his brown eyes and making them glow warm like hot cocoa. "A road that stretches the whole of Mizahar—" He hefted a long piece of wood from a pile stacked beside a wall with strong arms onto the sturdy table Paaie was sitting on for cutting. "Well, thereabouts."

Paaie looked down at the maps, quills and ink pots that were neatly set at the far end of the table thoughtfully. As she took in the scrawled notes and intricately designed sketches a wonder lit her. "Misha, show me how to draw good, like this?" The kelvic pleaded suddenly, lifting a blank sheet of parchment in her hands.

The cartographer swept his rough hands down the length of wood and considered his youngest kelvic for a tick. He leant his elbow on the wood and cupped his cheek in his big hand, a glint glittered in his eye as he spoke. "Drawing takes great patience and dedication, little paws." Paaie nodded zealously. "I have dedi-shion."
"Dedication." Misha corrected, scratching at his beard again as he considered, "I'll teach you if you wish."
Paaie almost threw the parchment into the air out of glee, but didn't, she knew how valuable the paper was.
"On one condition—" Misha waggled a thick finger at her, his teeth white against his ebony skin as he grinned mischievously. "—you find me a book that shows me how to fix this wagon wheel." He gestured to the broken wheel sitting useless and sad against the white stone wall adjacent to the inn they were staying.
"Why not go to the blacksmith?"
Paaie wondered aloud, brows furrowing in her small dusky face.
Misha took up a plane to begin his work. "We are counting mizas for our trip, little paws."
"Oh." Paaie thought there mustn't be many mizas to count with the way a frown tugged on Misha's weather-worn face.

So she set off on her quest. With a happy feeling fluttering in her tummy, Paaie leapt down off the high table and in a glow of warm light the kelvic shirked her loose linen dress and swapped it for fur. "Don't forget your clothes!" Misha laughed as he tucked the dress into her gold collar. In feline form, Paaie dashed off into the bustling desert city to seek knowledge.

     As Misha wanted a book, Paaie made her way down the winding benshiran streets to an old bookshop half-hidden between a florist and a bread-makers. She knew where it was because she had spent her mornings with her face pressed in the window-hole peering at all the wonderful books and artifacts in the little nook (when she wasn't trying to steal freshly baked bread from its neighbour).

When she arrived she swiftly shifted and tugged on her linen dress again before entering the little shop. Inside, the shade was cooling and Paaie looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dim. "Hullo, yes we're open, come in!" Bade a raspy voice from behind a mountain of books and scrolls.
"Hello?" Paaie peered around the stack warily where she glimpsed an old man with a grey and black beard, wispy curly hair. He wore a white linen tunic and old reed sandals and was squinting back at her with intelligent eyes. "It's you." He said with a hint of surprise, then, "Don't touch a thing!" He snapped.
Paaie smarted. "I've come to see your books."
"Have you come with mizas?" The old man narrowed his squinty eyes even more at her. Paaie frowned and shook her head, not getting any words out before the old man began to shoo her with rude gestures.
"Wait a tick!" Paaie argued, pride prickling—if she had fur, her back would be arched and her fur standing up—"I've come for Misha. He needs to know how to fix a broken wagon wheel by himself."
The bookkeeper's bushy white brows raised, just like that he fixed her with a smile. "Oh, Misha! Child, why didn't you say so!"

Paaie sighed exasperatedly and the heat in her cheeks ebbed. Books were awfully expensive and Paaie did not like the way the bookkeeper spoke to her at all, so she devised a cunning plan. "Well, Misha is not interested in buying today, but he sent me to see what you have on the subject." The bookkeeper's smile faltered and he looked disappointed but he climbed out of his reed chair anyway. "I know just the book." He ruffled among his wares for a few chimes. Meanwhile, Paaie inspected a set of spectacles, finding that she liked the brass colour of the round frames.

"Here, this is a good book for basic carpentry." The bookkeeper emerged from the lifelong acquired mess. "Put those down, they are fragile!" He growled when he saw Paaie with the spectacles in her hands.
"What are they for?" Paaie asked, curious as she'd never seen anyone wear anything like it before, setting them down, carefully.
"Spectacles. A person with bad eyes may wear them to enhance their eye-sight." The bookkeeper grumbled as he cleared a space on the counter to lay out the book for Paaie to see.
The kelvic gave the frames a last fleeting look of admiration before stepped up to inspect the book. Gingerly she opened it. The spine creaked a little like the bookkeeper's knees did when he moved too much about. "Hold your horses there, cat." The bookkeeper laid a heavy hand on the book and it snapped shut with a puff of dust. "I will let you read a bit of it, no more than two pages, for Misha, without purchasing the book."
Paaie thought that sounded fair—"Ok."
"If you go find a painter to freshen up my shop sign." The bookkeeper grinned at her with the kind of knowing only a grandparent can have.

Her ploy to get information for free was snuffed out. Paaie looked from the old man to the book to the old man again, and sighed—"Ok, I'll be back in a bell." The bookkeeper gave her directions to the painter's studio, so she hurried off—tugging her linen dress off and tucked it into her collar for her shift.

     When she arrived at the tiny studio, a little white apartment squashed in a long row of terrace buildings, Paaie heard cussing and pots crashing. Warily, she padded in through the window hole. Paaie was met with the scene of the painter in wrinkled, paint covered clothes, grasping at his hair in despair. "Petch!" A huge canvas was laid against a bare white-stone wall. It was covered in splotches of paint in big blocks that looked rather ugly to the kelvic. What caught her eyes more so was the paint that was dripping down the painter's nice white linen shirt. "Petch..." He muttered and looked up. He saw Paaie, a cat, sitting on his windowsill. Paaie looked right back, astonished as he.

"You're not an ordinary cat, are you?" The painter murmured, gesturing at the dress tucked into her collar, his cheeks turning a wonderful rosy hue. Paaie shook her head, tail flicking this way and that. "Kelvic?" The painter squeaked and Paaie shifted, tugging on her dress as she clambered down off the windowsill, although the painter looked away to give her privacy.

"What happened?" She asked. The painter looked down at himself, covered in paint, and then at the canvas behind him. He wandered over to a basin and undressed himself from his sticky paint dripping shirt. "I can't see proper- er-I wasn't looking...and spilled my paints." The painter sighed somberly. Paaie stifled a giggle that shuddered up her back and made her shoulders quiver and the painter shot her a rueful grimace. "What are you doing here anyway?"
Paaie settled herself enough to reply—"The bookkeeper sent me, he needs his shop sign painted fresh."
"I see." The painter's pale features began to glow with the hint of a smile and he seemed to perk up all of a sudden. "A job, excellent! Tell him I'll be there in a-" He faltered and frowned.

"What's wrong?" Paaie frowned too.
The painter ran pale, slender fingers through his thick brown hair. "I- I don't have enough black paint for the job now."
Paaie stiffled another fit of giggles, suggesting with a shrug. "I'll help you get some more paints."
His brilliant blue eyes lit up and the tall man clapped his hands together loudly. "Would you!—you're a peach—the herbalist has the ingredients I need—would you fetch them for me?" He almost didn't take a breath as he spoke in his foreign accent, but Paaie nodded. "Ok—will I meet you at the bookkeeper's?"
"Yes, I'll meet you." The painter waved her off absentmindedly, already gathering his brushes and palettes. So Paaie climbed back out the window. "You can use the door you know..." Muttered the artist, but the kelvic was already wreathed in light   —and away.

     Paaie didn't need directions to the herbalist. The kelvic had been there before, while she was just a kitten for checkups, or whenever her mama or Misha got sick and needed medicine. The herbalist frightened her. It was her pale skin, which had a green hue in different lights, and the way she stared intently with dark eyes. Paaie stopped just around the corner from the store to shift and clothe herself. There she hesitated and peered warily at the dark door, flowers and herbs hanging from rusty iron hooks nailed into the wood. She needed those ingredients for the artist's paint, so she could gleen that knowledge from the bookkeeper's book for Misha. Steeling herself, the kelvic pushed into the shop.

"Heh-lo?" Paaie called out hesitantly. It was quiet, and dank. All manner of plants hung from the rafters in varying stages of drying. Shelves lined the walls, crooked and bowing with the weight of the jars and baskets on them. As Paaie delved deeper into the shop, she passed large glass jars with mushrooms floating in strange coloured oils. When Paaie was inspecting a jar of crinkled, dried flower petals the sound of something slipping across the floor behind her.

The kelvic whizzed round and came face-to-face with a very tall woman with imposing dark tattoos and intense eye-shadow. "Yesss, child, are you ill? Are you here for medicine or buying my dried herbs?" The woman hissed, standing a little too close for comfort, leering over poor Paaie, short as she was.

Paaie gulped. "I-a painter sent me. He needs to make black paint."
"Ah." The herbalist smiled, revealing sharp teeth, and straightened up and slithered away—for she was a dhani and in half-snake half-human form. Paaie was glad to have her personal space back. The dhani herbalist rooted through a basket to pull out chunks of some blackened substance before she glided over to a small barrel. Taking off the lid, the dhani pointed to a shelf clambered with empty jars of every shape and size. "Bring me a sssmall round jar and hold it."

Despite herself, Paaie was curious, and her curiosity got the better of her, so she acquiesced. As Paaie held the jar for the herbalist as she scooped out a jelly substance and placed it into the jar the kelvic asked. "What is this?"
The dhani fixed her with that intense, black stare, though her expression seemed thoughtful, rather than menacing. After a tick, she replied, "Animal glue." Paaie's brow furrowed and the dhani's lips were tugged into a smile as she answered Paaie's thoughts before Paaie even spoke them aloud. "Made from boiling the skin, tendons, ligaments and bones of animals in water, usually pigsss." Paaie's nose scrunched in confusion.
The dhani laughed, "The painter will mix the gum with crushed charred bonesss. Egg whitessss would do asss well, but it doessss not keep ssso long. Oilss too."
"Oh."
Paaie glanced at the chunks of black which she had assumed was charcoal, a new interest sowing itself in her as she wondered how painters made other colours.
"Thisss will do. That costsss 1 gold miza."

The dhani waited expectantly and Paaie withered within herself. She had forgot to ask the painter for mizas for the paint. "Oh, I forgot." She peered up at the herbalist, who stared back with that intense, lingering gaze. Paaie was at a loss for what to do and looked around the shop for inspiration. When her eyes alighted on a mess scattered on the herbalist's counter. "What are you making?"

The herbalist's gaze lingered on her, though, which reminded Paaie of the way serpents watch their dinner before striking. It made her uncomfortable. Usually it was her chasing mice, not the one caught on the end of the predator's stare. To her relief, the herbalist was successfully distracted and looked at the mess. "I'm trying to make an antidote. Sssomeone hasss got very sssick. I believe they have been poisssoned." The herbalist hissed the word with ire.

"Tell you what, if you visssit the poissson crafter three sstreetss over and find out what poissson it isss I will be able to make an antidote and in return I will give you thisss paint." The herbalist suggested with a warm smile, which Paaie returned with a grin of her own sharp incisors flashing in the dim. "Ok, deal!"

The herbalist took Paaie over to the counter and talked her through the symptoms she was treating as well as the tactics Paaie should try out to be discreet. "We do not want the poissson crafter to know we are going to heal sssomeone. We need to be sssneaky." Determination furrowed Paaie's brow. "I can be sneaky."

As the kelvic left the herbalist's shop she chastised herself that she had ever been frightened of the dhani. Not everything, or everyone, was as they at first seemed.

     In a few chimes Paaie arrived at the door of the poison crafter. Bones were crossed above the door, which was a simple cloth of purple and red hanging from an ivy-covered beam. Paaie took a tick to fix her mission in mind: discover the poison the herbalist was treating, and, be subtle. This would take all her wits.

Paaie ducked into the shop and was surprised to find it resembled the harbalist's. Although where there had been the deep, rich earthy scent of growing things and flowers there, in here smelled—spicy. Odd. The kelvic looked around and was perterbed to find no poison crafter. Warily, she ventured farther in amid the jars and herbs, sniffing as she went as if the scent of the poison she was looking for would snatch her senses up just like that.

An oddly tantalizing smell led her to a cask in the corner by the counter. It was rich, and filled her mouth with the taste of metallic. Lifting the wooden lid off, the kelvic found herself peering into a vat of rich, crimson red blood. Huh. Paaie leaned her face closer in and inhaled deeply and her mouth watered, but she couldn't tell what animal the blood was from. Which was strange, at this age Paaie had stalked most birds, rodents, even little mammals, as well as eaten the bigger cattle that Misha and her father enjoyed cooking together at meal times. This stuff smelled...exotic.

"Wha'choo think you doin', kitty-cat?"
Oh gods! Paaie almost dropped the lid, the wood clunking cloudly, as she whipped round to find a heavily inked face, pierced with steel and bone in a multitude of places, scowling back. "S-orry!"

The Myrian narrowed her dark eyes at the kelvic, tipping back her head lightly, as if looking down on her. The woman was tall, like the dhani healer, made taller by the impressive mo-hawk of jet black hair she wore proudly.

"I was just- it smelled good." Paaie explained and lifted her hand from the lid as if it was something she wasn't supposed to be touching. "I'm actually here for- my master." She looked around, her nerves fluttering in her tummy from being caught by surprise. "He- is looking for something to help- with a-" Her confidence was waning fast under the Myrian's impatient huff. "Well get out with it, kitty, I have work to do, what are you here for?"
"He has a business rival that needs a little teaching." Paaie rushed out her false story, feeling her spine prickle. She was not a good liar, she thought.
The myrian regarded her with a raised brow that told her she was, indeed, not a good liar.

So Paaie followed the tug in her instincts and dappled her story with some truth. "Okay, my master hasn't sent me, but I am here to find out a bit about poisons and I have heard you are the one to ask."

The myrian smirked, in that fierce prideful way only myrians did, and unfolded her arms. "Well it depends, kitty-cat, how badly they problem, how badly they need hurt." Paaie nodded, feeling as though her honesty was getting her somewhere better. She rhymed off the symptoms that the healer had made her learn, and hoped that the poison crafter would not notice that they matched a poison she had likely crafted recently.

The myrian peered at Paaie so intently in the silence after that her heart skittered as she feared the poison-crafter did notice, but then the woman smirked again and drew herself down to come face-to-face with the kelvic. "Some bad man done bad things and you want him to pay, well, Sho will fix 'at, fix things that the bad man gone think twice 'fore he lay eyes your way again." The myrian gave her a look with gleaming eyes taking in Paaie's lithe curves as if she were a chunk of meat. It made Paaie almost wither—or bristle, she was undecided—her presumption was so unexpected.

As the poison-crafter sauntered away to gather ingredients in jars and set them on the counter, Paaie rustled herself, and her nerves. "How did you know?" She asked and the myrian glanced at her over her shoulder. "There another lady come two days ago, she looking the same thing. Only one thing for an effect like 'at, it a man need his-self unmanned in want of those symptoms."
Paaie, startled, gasped and her eyes went wide. She almost yowled.
The myrian laughed and pointed at Paaie with a long-nailed finger. "Don't worry, kitty-cat, this stuff won't really hurt him that bad."
Paaie must have looked relieved because the myrian laughed at her again and muttered something about tribal law and castration, which Paaie didn't catch—was glad she didn't.
"But it will make his nasty feel like fire ants are all over. He'll not be makin' his-self in any mood to go anywhere near another woman for a long time. With two ladies come to me this moon, this man got to learn him a lesson, eh."

Paaie was surprised to find herself comforted by the poison-crafter's direct and swift sense of justice. It was oddly admirable. As the kelvic was sinking her teeth into this moral realization the myrian took out a dried rose from a wood box and donned gloves. Paaie watched inquisitively as the poison-crafter plucked off all the petals, as well as the sepals, and set them aside. In the center of the rose bud was a brown husk, all dried and ugly. This the myrian set onto a wooden board and sliced it up with a sharp knife that gleamed.

"A rose hip." The myrian caught Paaie's curiosity before she had a chance to raise her question. "Oh." The feline breathed quietly, her focus stolen by the white fluffy substance that was inside the rose hip. It reminded her of raw cotton, like what Misha sometimes bought and traded in the markets.

"This is called cythilicus." The myrian teased out the white fluffy substance with a wooden pick into a jar, before she took a cup of water from a basin sitting on the counter to a brazier which was lit in the middle of the store and heated the water until it was boiling. "Bring and hold it over the steam, but don't be getting it wet." Paaie followed the poison-crafter's instructions without a second thought.

Makeshift apprentice, she did as asked, carefully holding the cup over the steam, without tipping the cotton-like cythilicus into the water. "Cover your mouth and nose." The myrian smirked, noticing how small Paaie was and how close she was to the steam. Eyes widening with apprehension, Paaie covered her face with a rag sitting by the brazier. Mumbling through the cloth, she asked. "What will this do exactly?"
The poison-crafter shrugged nonchalantly. "It will be like fire burning in his nasty." She grinned wolfishly and glanced at Paaie. "Itchy, itchy, will drive a man mad!"
"Oh!" Paaie exclaimed with surprise. She had thought they were making something truly menacing, but this was not so bad, at all. A prank, really. Paaie glanced sideways up at the myrian and returned her grin, mischievous.

Once the cythilicus had gotten fluffier in texture, they took it away from the steam and the poison-crafter set it on an iron rack above the flames to dry out. As they waited, Paaie padded around the shop, looking at different ingredients and asking what they were. The myrian seemed happy to tell her and share a few of the properties of some of the more common herbs. Paaie wondered how a herbalist remembered so much, and when she voiced her amazement, it made the myrian laugh. Then the poison-crafter told her that life in the jungle wilds of Taloba was tough and to survive it the tribes who thrived there had to be tougher.

When the itchy powder was ready, Paaie watched, mesmerized, as the myrian took a pinch of powdered bone (she'd asked) and added it to the dried cythilicus, while muttering something of an incantation in myrian—malediction. Bone magic. The myrian had told Paaie mysteriously.

Paaie tried to pay with the mizas the healer had given her, just in case, but the poison-crafter refused them, saying Paaie's curiosity had lightened her afternoon. "Remember this recipe so's any petchers bugs you you get back at 'em, kitty-cat." The kelvic left the imposing poison-crafter with an impish grin splitting her features, a recipe in hand and a philosophy of revenge well-absorbed.

     When Paaie returned to the healer and told her what she and the poison-crafter had cooked up, the healer withered into a chair at first. "That'sss it?" She muttered to herself, perplexed.
Paaie shrugged and told her about the bone magic she had seen too. The herbalist groaned. "Well, I can't help with that...he needsss a Rak'keli healer for a hexsss." But after a chime she chuckled. "It will wear off. Poor fellow will jussst have to ride it out."

The herbalist got up to gather the paints Paaie had requested for the painter, shaking her head as she went. "Maledicted itchy powder, ridiculousss!" She hissed, incredulously. Paaie thought she sounded embarrassed, yet mildly impressed.

Thanking the herbalist for the paint, the kelvic chased down the winding streets all the way to the bookkeeper's, her bare feet slapping on the smooth white stones loudly and Syna's warmth rippling in waves as she dipped in and out of the dappled shade between rooftops.

     "What took you so long?" A happy-to-see-her artist complained with an anxious grin rising his well-defined cheekbones. Paaie muttered something about chasing wild geese under her breath. "Did you get the paints?" The artist beamed and Paaie nodded, revealing the jar. "Excellent! Now I can get started, thank you little peach."

Paaie pouted as she thought about correcting the artist's pet name with her real name, but as the man was already up a few rungs on his rickety ladder she noticed that it was swaying unnervingly and rushed to hold the sides to steady him.
"Oops, this old thing is on its way out I think." The artist admitted with a flush and a grateful pursing of his lips to Paaie for holding him steady. The kelvic just rolled her eyes in exasperation at him. "How does someone so clumsy become a painter." She muttered, teasing him. The artist flushed even more, clearing his throat loudly he turned towards his work to hide his embarrassment.

It only got worse from there. Paaie watched as the artist's hand shook lightly as he dipped his brush and began to put light strokes on the wooden sign. The kelvic could see he was outlining the letters over the old faded ones but his hands kept moving out of sync with the patterns underneath. Side-eying the painter skeptically, Paaie remarked bluntly. "Your letters are skew-whiff."

The artists stopped his hand mid-stroke to lift the brush off from the sign, and leaned in close to peer at his handiwork. Oddly close, Paaie thought, his nose almost touching the freshly glistening paint. The kelvic crinkled her nose in thought, until she realised she knew about something that might help the poor man. "Wait a tick." She said and left the painter standing on the precarious ladder as she ducked into the bookshop.

"It's you." The old bookkeeper remarked with disinterest when he looked up from the book he was reading.
"It's me." Paaie echoed with a scrunch of her nose, emboldened after meeting an imposingly kind dhani herbalist and a wickedly empathetic myrian poison-crafter. The bookkeeper's bushy brows raised and his mouth opened in a way that told Paaie she was going to get a telling off for her attitude.
"I've had a long day and don't have any more time for your nonesense, mister. Now, what I'm in here for is to see if we can borrow those, uh, spic- spictikles."

"Spectacles." The bookkeeper corrected, gently. He was regarding the kelvic thoughtfully, surprised at her outburst. "Whatever for?" He said, incredulous. Paaie simply gace him a hard look, and flicked her eyes out towards the doorway where she had left the painter dangling on his rickety ladder in Syna's warmth. The bookkeeper followed her indication, brow furrowing so much his eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead and become one great bushy brow. When it dawned on the bookkeeper then what the kelvic was getting at, he smiled, valuing her sensitivity and discretion.

"Tell you what, you can take those spectacles and tell the painter he can take those as payment, as I just don't have the coins right now." He gave Paaie an approving look, which Paaie secretly relished as she weaved between the stacks of books and tumbling parchments to prize the brass spectacles from the shelf she had set them on when she had left the shop this morning. These, she took out and reached up to the painter.

"What are these for?" He took them warily, peering down at Paaie with suspicion. As if she was playing a trick and the brass would start wriggling like a snake. Paaie huffed and gestured to his face. "You put them on and they make you see better." She insisted. "The bookkeeper said you can have them as payment because he doesn't have coin right now."

The artist looked at the spectacles for a tick, seeming to decide something, before he planted them onto his nose as if afraid he might change his mind. "Oh!" He breathed and began looking around vigorously, a grin settling into his face. The glass in the frames made his eyes look a little big for his face and Paaie giggled, though she hoped he wouldn't take notice of her. He didn't, he just kept exclaiming, "Oh!" as he looked at the world anew.

Paaie, satisfied, went back to holding the ladder as the painter went to work with renewed enthusiasm. Every now and then, the bookkeeper would come out to inspect how it was going, bringing clay cups of water on a tray. Twice the artist let Paaie climb up the ladder and lift a brush to the sign, instructing her to hold the paintbrush lightly and to use short, steady strokes.

Painting took great patience, he had said, but an entire vision could be crafted out of these tiny strokes. Paaie enjoyed the painting very much, finding something soothing about it, as if time didn't exist and the world melted away. It reminded her of how stalking felt. Quiet, focused, steady. Syna's afternoon heat was wavering by time they were done. Before she could take her leave, though, the bookkeeper reminded her about the piece of reading she had earned.

This revived her a little: how proud would Misha be that she had got him the know-how to fix a wagon wheel without spending a single coin. Never-mind the interesting craftsmen—and craftswomen—she had met, or the intriguing knowledge she had discovered along the way. It didn't cross her feline thoughts, which only had Misha's happiness and the Great Adventure in mind.

Paaie didn't think excitedly of all the things they would discover in their travels across Mizahar, she hadn't the penchant for looking ahead, but when the moment struck, Paaie was an inquisitive learner. Which might not have been on her conscious agenda, but, there it was embedded in her instincts. Like that saying—'curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back'. Paaie was feeling very satisfied.

So, finally, Paaie got to read two full pages of basic carpentry, studying the pictures astutely she learnt the gist of how to make wagon wheel spokes, the ways they attached to the frame, the tools needed and the difference between hard-wood and soft-wood for spring and suspension whilst going over rocks. With that the kelvic made her way back to her family, head full of things she never knew before.

     As she was making her way back, Paaie decided to take 'the scenic route'. This involved shifting into a cat again and utilizing those dexterous claws to climb up some curtains and onto a windowsill, then up some wooden beams onto the clay tile roofs. Paaie took a few chimes to sit and watch Syna set, sitting herself beside a chimney. Smoke wafted hazily, smelling richly of spices. The Golden Goddess sunk down below the desert city, casting long, fading rays in warm hues which dyed the stone pink and purple, while the blue of night crept in.

Paaie felt like she was in a mirage. Her eyes drooped and she nuzzled her chin on top of her paws where she lay. Just a little rest, she told herself, even as a mysterious sensation of chimes slowing down ebbed in and the colours of syna's setting felt like they were melting into the air itself. As the kelvic breathed in deeply, she drifted. Within a few chimes, the kelvic became aware of a presence walking across the clay roof-tiles towards her.

For the life of her, though, she could not rouse herself from her haze. Like the colours, though, Paaie found she was able to feel The Presence in a way she had never sensed anything before. The presence, whatever it was, smelled like parchment, sounded like the pages of books rustling, underneath was a quiet, which Paaie felt rather than heard. That silence, so deep, yet so filled with little noises of a library. Softly echoic, a little like a cave too, yet one that felt high up like in a scholar's tower.

Paaie shook her head a little and twitched her ears towards the Presence as it settled itself beside her on the terracotta tile. It was then she got the sense that the Presence was most definitely a whoever, rather than a whatever, and there was a feeling of indescribable age to it. Older than the bookkeeper, far older. Wise and ancient. Paaie stretched herself out, crawling her front paws forward and sticking her rump in the air as she tugged the sleepiness out of her limbs. It woke her from her daze a little.

The kelvic blinked her orbs open and tried to look up at the Presence, and saw a cloak that looked shimmering white and airy, aged grey, like a mirage she couldn't tell which colour it really was. As Paaie lifted her gaze to the Presence's face, she gasped in surprise to find the glow of yellow feline eyes peering back from within a face the kelvic couldn't really distinguish. Nonetheless there was this sense the Presence was young and beautiful to the eye. If only she could rouse herself to see properly, Paaie found herself unable to look up into the Ancient's eyes. Little did she know it was best she didn't, for there her little thoughts would have been overwhelmed by all the insight of knowing.

As a hand brush down her back, Paaie purred deeply in her chest and the feline couldn't help but arch herself into the strokes, feeling the Ancient One's affection ripple through her fur deliciously. Oh this was wonderful. A wonderful dream. Paaie felt a twinge somewhere in her that told her it wasn't a dream at all but it was hard to focus on that thought. Paaie was just content to sit with this wonderful Ancient and watch as night-time drew its inky blanket across the desert beyond the white city.

"You've been seeking knowledge all these bells and been tenacious in your pursuit." Paaie heard the voice speak in the hush of a pen scratching against parchment, soft and soothing. Paaie flicked her tail in agreement. It had been an interesting hunt.

"Did you know all things have Djed?" The voice said, light and gently excited, in that way tutors spoke, knowing they were about to impart something intriguing for students to sink their teeth into. "Whenever something is crafted or handled, djed from the living things that handled it, or produced it leave a tiny mark of djed behind." Paaie listened, feeling like she was slowly waking up and the haze was ebbing just enough for her to think clearly. "Like fingerprints." She mused inwardly, and she felt the Presence was smiling.

The voice answered her unspoken thoughts. "Yes. Those tiny fragments of djed tells us everything we might want to know about the life and motivations of the creature it belonged too. As well as each contribution left behind by anyone who touches it thereafter. A whole story, reaching all the way back." A spark of excitement flickered in Paaie as she considered what she was being told.

"There is insight everywhere, in everything." The voice mused and Paaie felt this notion ebbing into her.
"You could track the djed." She suggested and there was the noise of lots of clay and glass bottles clinking together.
Paaie realised The Presence was laughing softly. "Yes, for you perhaps it is like that."
Though She—Paaie got the indiscernible sense The Presence was female—spoke as if She already knew this about Paaie. She spoke as if She humoured Paaie's need to converse it through. The kelvic realised her inquisitiveness was being indulged. The Presence was very knowing and very wise, Paaie thought.
"Who are you?" The kelvic thought—asked—tentatively. There was that melodic clinking sound again.
"I'll let you discover for yourself, little Paws, just the way you have discovered many things today." With that, the Presence ebbed away with the last of Syna's warm light.

     Paaie was left sitting on the terracotta roof, feeling stiff as if she had been sitting for a long time, and foggy as if she was just awakening from a strange dream. A good dream, she decided. The night air was fresh and cool, invigorating after the heat of the desert day. As Paaie woke back to her usual self, she looked around the empty night for The Presence, but She was gone. Disappointed, the kelvic meowed to herself, wondering again, who are you?

Then the cool night breeze whipped up the white-washed stone, ruffling the fur around her face, and Paaie heard a name whispered to her twitching pointed ears— EYRIS. A clue! Paaie thought happily and the hunt to know began again.

     Later, when Paaie finally returned to the inn and her waiting family, she was greeted with worry and chastised for being out so long. Paaie enjoyed the attention she was getting when her father noticed something different about his daughter and growled, What is that on your paw?" Everyone's gaze turned to Paaie's left front paw, where her fur was rippled and sticking up in an odd way, like it hadn't ever before. Paaie shifted and shifted again, just to see, when finally the family gasped in surprised unison—there on the back of her left hand was the mark of Lykata.
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Paaie
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Joined roleplay: March 14th, 2018, 9:12 pm
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