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A Black Jewel has obliterated the longstanding Eyrien rulership of the Territory. As the Rihlanders begin to reclaim their homeland they do so under the stern gaze of their "savior". Three separate peoples struggle to both claim their own identities and become a unified nation, but old hatreds are difficult to shed.
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Author Topic: Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken  (Read 193 times)

Description: Tag: Odinar/Early Winter 192

Offline Aelarian Weber

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Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken
« on: Jun 06, 17, 09:37:05 PM »

Great Library of Ebon Varos
Three stories that Rihlanders could get to had been refurbished over the last pair of years, yet truly the Library was made for those that had wings. The doorways were large and high to the point that one truly could just fly in without granting harm or annoyance to those unable. The three above the lower were accessible by flying or Craft touched ladders. As the Librarian Archivist for Ebon Varos, this space in all its magnificence was Lady Weber's domain.

Stone floors and walls were polished to a shine by continuous spells to keep away the dust and other harm from being done to the books, as well as a variety of records. Any book one could near imagine on an incredible number of topics could be found in this space, even though once many of the tomes kept here were largely by Eyrien viewpoint, that had truly begun to change following the Priestess' appointment.

Still a project in process, as most Rihlanders were not ones that tended to enjoy books. But she was determined in her father's memory, and his grandmother before that, to change the rules. As she had most of the days these last five weeks, the attire Aelarian wore was in marked, soft earthen tones that matched well with the brown and gold of her heavy lidded gaze. No one had yet noticed the Archivist was no longer using Craft to put away the books, but then, hers was a near silent presence, unobtrusive in the extreme while also making her viewpoints exceedingly clear by way of action rather than speech. She'd left notes and advertisements in every single public establishment able to be arrived to by foot, making certain that whether Glacian roots, Rihlander, Eyrien, or even any blending of those bloodlines - all were welcome within the Great Library, so long as respect was done to the books, and quiet was kept as a rule in the space to a point.

Most importantly, violence was not permitted in any way, shape, or form. Thus far, her wishes had been mostly kept to, and only rarely did she need to send for someone to break up a disagreement. Given the fact that she was not remotely anywhere near displaying the secret she had been hard pressed to keep and had taken to wearing an enhanced item to disguise the truth of her psychic scent to the depths of the Sapphire, Aelarian was fairly relaxed as much as she ever was in public. It was the best that the lady could afford - and it was rare enough that she encountered anyone more darkly gifted than her late husband had been. More particularly, the point had been keenly made that she did not desire grand wealth for tending books.

One did not pay for what was considered a calling, she felt, and an extension of the self, and Caste. Hands folded beneath her wings, which fluttered softly by the rare reflex, her heel tapped rhythmically upon the stone floors. In slightest motion, the long braid she wore which was thick as a warrior's wrist slipped in idle form over one shoulder. Given that her assistant for the hour was on a meal break and Aelarian's senses were subsumed with a constant dizziness, she had no desire to eat, even though it had been perhaps four hours since the last attempt. A cool, focused expression made it almost impossible to tell the woman was not feeling as well as she ought to have been.

Stacking several books upon a long table and aware they needed to go to the sixth floor, an airy sigh eased from her in annoyance. As much as she loved tending the books from touch to smell and appearance ...

"If only they would put back the tomes when finished with them as the signs say ..."

Turning her head toward the window and a faint hint of sapphire hue upon a book darkened her mood as her recently executed husband came to mind. At least she had done her duty for five centuries, while he certainly had not. A raw shudder moved through her. She still did not know what to think, of all the times they had tried over the centuries in their marriage, and only now after a bitter, angry coupling had he managed the entire point of their union: to unite her mother's bloodline with his.

Ah, Torar. You never could listen to anyone, and now you are returned to the Darkness.

Offline Odinar Elbremov

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Re: Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken
« Reply #1 on: Jun 25, 17, 10:49:54 AM »
Odinar entered the library of Ebon Varos at just past noon, as he did each week, with four books in hand. His reading speed had slowed considerably over the last two years, having taken over as Master of the Guard at his father’s direction. He used to read ten books a month, back when the old Territory Court was in power. Back then, his duties consisted of enforcing the Prohibitions and making sure the law was upheld. Beyond that, he sparred, he enjoyed his ruts, and his free time was devoted to improving his mind. The rest of the Court considered him little more than a mindless brute, looking for something to hit every day that he woke.
 
Odinar would not be accused of mindlessness.
 
He strode into the library in his black boots, black pants, and black leather jerkin, made to fit his wings. Those wings were tucked tight against his back, though he longed to fly and stretch them. He wanted to take a look at the mountains once more, to determine the extent of his father’s power. Father had been pulverizing mountains lately, though Odinar had no idea why. Rather than go to his father and press him for answers (unwise to do with a Black Jewel), Odinar assumed that his father would speak to him when ready.
 
For now, he walked over to Lady Weber’s desk and set the books down quietly.
 
Lady Weber was an attractive woman, which made it sadder that she’d been saddled with an idiot of a husband, one who enjoyed breaking the laws than almost anyone else that Odinar ever met. It was with some irony that the task force that Reo wanted to create made Odinar uncomfortable, despite falling within the purview of his duties. He understood why Reo was doing it, but he did not agree with the reasoning. He also didn’t agree with Reo’s lifestyle, a direct violation of the Prohibitions that would eventually endanger him. The whole affair kept Odinar up at night, wrestling with worry, a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to.
 
The library was one of the few places in Ebon Varos that Odinar found calm without having to fight for it.
 
Lady Weber, I’m returning my loans. I’d like to find a few others. By the way, thank you for the suggestions you gave me about Rihlander culture. There were...informative.” Odinar said, his voice raspy from lack of use.
 
Do you have anything about Glacians? I need it for...cultural study.” he said.

Offline Aelarian Weber

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Re: Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken
« Reply #2 on: Jun 29, 17, 05:13:35 AM »

Although, cruel love, you make me languish; I will always love you true. With the patience of my serving, I will be able to tire out ... your pride.


Only Aelarian really could have the worst possible luck to be mulling halfway between futile anger, regret, sadness, and both wanting to eat and not all at once to have none other than the Master of the Guard for all of Rihland to walk into the library. That is, the very same man that would have had to give the order to place her in the position of being a widow hiding a secret. It was not to say that the Lady Weber looked guilty, not exactly. No, more resigned to perhaps something akin to several shelves of pristine books to fall down just after they were all put away. It was the only method in which to describe how she felt.

If Prince Odinar - as only his father was Prince Elbremov to save her sanity in recalling which Elbremov she was considering in a brief moment of attention granted toward living people - had arrived ten minutes later, or earlier, he would have been forced to deal with her assistant. Reservation while assisting; it was the way the Librarian Archivist preferred matters; only when there was an actual crisis regarding the texts of the Library did most people deign to bother her. Somehow, and she could never figure out why, as dealing with the intricacies of people eluded her all too often, he was almost always present when she was actually working and not hiding behind a pile of books, or better, her little office alcove.

One could have hailed the woman as beautifully clueless out of necessity. If her late husband thought her blind to an ideal, he very typically left her alone. Sadly, that had not occurred enough to the Lady Weber's liking.

Aelarian liked it this way, however. She preferred not to hear the annoying sounds of voices, unless lifted in song, or prayer. Otherwise, she had exactly no use for any of them. Some might have believed the lady deep in mourning, and even though she had darkened her preference in attire, that was not the reason; but rather that her husband was dead, so he did not dictate what she put upon her person for the first time in well over half her life. It was a tiny bit of freedom that had her buzzing inside happily, when no one could see her do so.

Thus, the sound of her name did not phase the Archivist, instead she continued almost mindlessly shelving books upon the stacks needing to be put away after her brief bought of woolgathering; which her assistant would handle later after their lunch, rest after lunch, and afternoon combat drills. More than this, it would of course have been her luck to run into one of a few personages that possessed jewels beyond the depth of her dampening charm worn upon a simple silver chain with a carved figure with outstretched wings. It took a moment more to realise a question had been put to her.

In seconds, three and a half to be precise, the flutter of confusing emotion all but vanished; the woman's countenance about as kind and moving as a smoothed and heavy river stone. To view her consideration of Glacian cultural books, it was easy to dismiss that she was not just an Archivist by choice, but a skilled Priestess all upon her own will, and late mother's blessing. Aelarian did not in a typical sense, possess the skill to soothe people unless truly pushed beyond her comfort zone to do so. Thus, she regarded the Master of the Guard with a professional, purposeful expression. Arrogance lifted her right brow and faint, though it did not last, she wondered why he would wish such knowledge, while hoping it was for a good and lasting purpose.

Instead of being a mindless, wandering Warlord Prince as her husband had been.

Darkness of that thought was swiftly buried. From what she knew of the man, despite the depth of his Jewels, he seemed precisely the opposite, which was why she did not mind the gentleman's presence in the Library at all. Normally, Aelarian used Craft to simply return the books by memory to the places they belonged, but today, she offered forth a hand to accept them for placing on the nearby cart. It was perhaps only the ice in her manner, and the remaining presence of the plain golden band among the array of pretty golden rings upon her hand that had been gifted to her by her late husband, Prince Torar. Like an albatross thrown to the face, it was hard to miss, and even more so a nuisance because the ring was actually stuck on her hand.

Pride kept her from asking for the slightest bit of help. It could disintegrate there for all she cared.

"Prince, welcome to the Great Library," she remarked in greeting. "I have a few books on Glacian culture just returned." He seemed to like four as a number as rumour and notation upon the man's accounting for books informed her. Opening the heavy tome at least, had innate Craft that simply worked and did not require activation, else Aelarian would have had to hunt through the names. Mother Night provided some small blessings, the Priestess noted.

It took mere minutes to locate the Master of the Guard's name among those that had checked out books. With enhanced, half moon spectacles settled upon her nose having been lifted from the delicate wooden tray where she kept them on the desk, Lady Weber blinked owlishly and made the tiny notations that her Craft enhanced spectacles allowed her to see, as well as write. The book itself simply erased the old and allowed the Librarian to carefully write in the new books. As yet however, Aelarian refrained from adding, just in case the Warlord Prince wanted more than four, or a different set than her suggestions.

"Glacian Piste; it is a must. Though you should take a memory crystal with you, as it only makes sense when viewed." On top of the thick tome of the history of the particular Glacian art, she rested another dealing with the Art History of the Territory itself, then one more regarding the importance of the Dark Religion as viewed from an outsider.

"This tome from what I know is woefully incomplete and is from a Dhemlanese perspective. The best method to find out about the view in truth of their faith is to ask, and often it is a very intrusive question," the Archivist pointed out as gently as she could before turning to face the cart behind the desk, rocking side to side to ease the pulse of pain in her left hip. "I have ... books upon writing, literature, and building formations. They really do like stone buildings and take a considerable pride in work. Generally, you may note that we Eyriens have one thing in common to Glacians - typically, women do not fight."

While true that the Warlord Prince, like his father was not fully Eyrien, neither was she, despite the importance of her mother's lineage: in truth it made little difference to Aelarian. To her, he looked Eyrien so it was what he would be called unless corrected.

"If none of those are of interest, there are further books upon the second floor, third row of shelving units to the left side, and then opposite corner corridor," Aelarian finished, reciting from memory the precise location of a greater selection of books desired. Duty completed until otherwise informed, the Archivist folded her hands and waited for further direction.

Offline Odinar Elbremov

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Re: Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken
« Reply #3 on: Jul 04, 17, 01:34:00 PM »
Generally, you may note that we Eyriens have one thing in common to Glacians…
 
Nearly everything she’d said prior to and after that sentence was scrubbed away in light of that statement. Odinar had a number of peeves that weren’t readily apparent. Of those irritants, five required an immediate correction when marked. And of those five, only two of them could incite Odinar to immediate violence, bringing him from cold mirth to the Killing Edge without warning.
 
Lady Weber had located one of those irritants.
 
Good to know.” he said, his tone more chilly than before.
 
It is not her fault, he told himself. She could not possibly know how it rankled him to be called Eyrien when he shared only three-quarters of the blood of those monstrous ingrates. To Odinar’s mind, the final quarter of his blood, inherited from his father, made all of the difference. His mother’s blood was a gift, yes, but his mother was his mother first, and an Eyrien in the distant third. His father was Prince Elbremov. Odinar, to his mind, was a being wholly separate from the Eyriens who murdered without cause or care to the families they destroyed.
 
He started to correct Lady Weber, then decided against it.
 
Prince Torar was still dead, after all. And Odinar had approved his death for breaking the Prohibitions. The man was defiant, in the end, and Odinar had been annoyed at the male’s constant flouting of the laws. Odinar wanted to take Reo by the ear, point to Prince Torar’s widow, and tell him she was the kind of person who would suffer under his ideas, in addition to the suffering he heaped upon himself.
 
The Priestess deserved some grace for the family that Odinar himself destroyed.
 
I have heard of this Piste. Some say it is a vulgar sort of dance, but few of the Glacians will discuss it with him willingly.” Odinar said, handing over the books. She was a severe woman, but she always paid Odinar the proper respect due his caste. That made her easier to deal handle.
 
I will look into the suggestions you’ve provided. Your knowledge has always been helpful, Lady Weber.” Odinar said.

The books would help him understand Signe and her people. Despite Odinar’s general dislike of most Glacians, a few of them were good people. Signe, Wilhem, Ingjard and both Thyra’s came to mind, so Odinar could count five Glacians in all of Avorla that he liked. The Darkness could take the rest of them for all he cared, with their stares and deference. He would definitely have read this book the Dark Reigion.
 
Lady Weber, have you met any Glacians? Spoken with them at length? I’m trying to understand them a bit more and looking for outside perspectives. I’ve yet to ask any of the Rihlanders their thoughts. Somehow, I think they’ll launch into a diatribe against Prince Elbremov’s rule.
 
I’d prefer to avoid those.
” Odinar said.
 
And avoid the slaughter of the people voicing such idiocy in the bargain.
 
Inhale. Exhale. Center yourself.
 
In any event, with three different groups inhabiting Rihland, I suppose I should make attempts to understand their cultures. If nothing else, it will help me advise Prince Elbremov to the best of my ability.

Offline Aelarian Weber

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Re: Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken
« Reply #4 on: Jul 04, 17, 04:31:43 PM »
Coldness, Aelarian could handle very well. She in fact, held no quarrel at all with the Master of the Guard; after all he couldn't have known chances were, he had saved her from considerable more difficulty with Prince Torar's death. Given the deeply personal nature, it would take far more prodding to get any kind of explanation out of her, or, a pull of rank to demand it. Generally, the Librarian did not concern herself with the reasons why someone felt any particular way; she stayed carefully, graciously within her space. With the exception of recording historical cultural concerns from other Rihlanders, of course, in her father's memory. The Rihlanders had an incredible breadth of oral history, after all.

For some reason it gave the Priestess pause that she had apparently by some fashion, struck a nerve with the Warlord Prince. It was perhaps the only reason fear did not rise either in her expression or psychic scent despite the fact that Aelarian was marginally uncertain. After all, she did not view Eyriens on a whole as mindless, destructive creatures, her parents had been warm, passionately expressive people despite their mismatch choice of her late husband. Thus, for several moments, she eyed the very dark jewelled man with a hint of puzzlement, a question in her gaze gone entirely unasked due to Protocol and respect, at least at first.

Aelarian was careful with the books Prince Odinar handed to her, almost loving in her expression toward them in stacking each deliberately upon the return cart. "Most will behave that way, secretive or rather, preferring privacy is better explanation. For items and creative expression that are loved or precious, Prince, you will want to gain trust. Which is never easy," she remarked with care and precision and was careful not to make contact with his hands in any way, perhaps overly so. Afterward she offered a bow, just below the correct depth for acknowledgement of both Caste, Jewels, and Territory rank; it was a swords width lesser than she would have offered to his father. Logic told the Lady Aelarian that despite the warfare common of the Eyriens, if they produced her mother, herself, Prince Elbremov himself whom had recalled her mother in this particular station and offered it to her, then more must be good, even if hard to find.

An offering of hope.

All the Blood had choice to be good, or evil, or helping one side or the other, or neither.

Despite everything, she still believed that.


"I am always pleased to be of service, Prince," she remarked.

Yet, when he spoke of Glacians, and her personally, it presented a tangle of confusion in her face. No one tended to ask what she thought about anything, and she preferred it that way. It meant Aelarian could continue to be the quiet hand that "ruled" the immense Library, and like any good Archivist, their work was more important than the person themselves that performed the function. She did not know, despite training and Protocol understanding, how to deal with people that attempted to be personable. Add in the fact that the Warlord Prince had just moments before seemed upset in some fashion, and she couldn't help that her pulse moved along a good deal faster than it had when she first noticed the man's entrance.

"... Do I know any Glacians? Well, I have spoken to a few, yes. They are occasionally less afraid of my presence; I cannot fly, you see, and though their ... issue with lighter jewels here has somewhat faded, it is still a fact that there is ... a view of sorts. But Piste is important. You will go far if you understand it, and can manage to praise it," she presented matter of factly.

"As to Rihlanders, I have created a cultural section based both upon my studies, and my father's stories. We are not all sharp tongued against your father. At least, I am not." For a moment, she paused, to try and offer some positive view or method that the Warlord Prince could understand the third of the cultures present in Rihland without feeling as though all of them would just cause his father trouble, and make the Master of the Guard's job, that much more difficult.

"It can be hard for a people that were naught but the victim may fear becoming that once more, despite the fact that I do not believe they need to fear. It is the past, you may understand, that stirs unfortunate thoughts and causes those that are fully short lived, to hold deep concern for their futures. This is especially so with those that have no Jewels. Have I upset you, Prince Odinar? If I have spoken out of turn, by all means, I would take correction."

In the end, Aelarian could not help but address the feeling in the air around Odinar, that flicker of unhappiness. Ever the precise one, the Priestess presented a Protocol correct by way of the spirit of the law, rather than merely the letter. If she, a Priestess, had misstepped with a Warlord Prince, then it was she that needed to offer amends and a offer for a correction, not him. Graciously, she removed the enhanced spectacles to lay them carefully back in the wooden tray, now that for the moment they were not needed. After all, if Aelarian were an outwardly cheerful woman, she might have laughed at the way the spectacles made Odinar's head appear stretched out and odd; they were not made for looking at anything but Craft touched books. While awaiting what further the Master of the Guard wished, she placed three more books as options out, about Glacian music and food.

Offline Odinar Elbremov

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Re: Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken
« Reply #5 on: Jul 09, 17, 11:45:09 AM »
Aelarian caught wind of his displeasure. Odinar forced himself to push that down because it wasn’t her fault that she’d struck at his ego. He sighed, releasing that breath, and the negative energy with it, through his nose and collected his thoughts. This was the longest conversation he’d had with anyone besides Signe or Reo in some time; Odinar found that the librarian’s presence was soothing, for it appealed to the mind rather than the physical senses. Odinar had few actual friends. In fact, he had none.

Friendship did not come easy when one was charged with enforcing the law.

Lady Weber, it isn’t your fault. It’s a personal issue of mine. I...do not like being considered an Eyrien.” Odinar said slowly, still picking his away across the words as those they were rocks in a river of molten lava. The fire below was his anger and a single misstep would scald his foot and bring that anger back to the fore. Instead, he tried to articulate his stance for someone who might understand.

Or not.

I have faced nothing but prejudice from Eyriens due to my birth. I did not hate them as a people, not at first, but time secured that.. It’s difficult when I’m actually trying to help and the Rihlanders don’t seem my father, or myself, as different from their oppressors.” Odinar said, shifting nervously. He hadn’t voiced these concerns to anyone else, but he didn’t go to bars (except to hunt people) so it was easier talking to a “neutral” party like Lady Weber. As Odinar understood it, she lived in the same world he did. Three-quarters of her blood was Eyrien, but she did not fly as he did. Full-blooded Eyriens called that a weakness and would be sure she knew it, if she dealt with any.

I’ve been trying to learn more of the Rihlanders and the Glacians to find something that we all have in common. I was born here and I love this land. But that isn’t enough to build a rapport.” Odinar said, his wings twitching at the thought. He unfurled them, spread them wide for a moment, then tucked them tight to his back once more. He inhaled and exhaled once more.

I didn’t mean to put you on edge. But when I think of the things that the Eyriens have done to others, to other families, I dislike being considered in the same vein. You couldn’t have known that, though. It’s a minor distinction to a lot of people, but it’s an important one to me, Lady Weber.” Odinar said.

Does it ever bother you to be considered as Eyrien?” the Warlord Prince asked, seeking another view on the matter. His beliefs were formed by his experiences. He recognized, then, that not everyone would hold the same view or thoughts. Rather than consider his words on the matter the end of the discussion, Odinar sought Lady Weber’s thoughts on the matter in case she held a viewpoint that he’d not considered.

He could not grow and excel any other way.

He noted her selections on Glacian music and food and nodded, though he didn’t speak to them right away. Perhaps, if he was fortunate, he could convince Father to attempt schooling him in cooking. After the last disastrous attempt, called the Lamb Incident of 191, they’d decided that time should pass before Odinar entered a kitchen for any other reason than eating. It was a mutually agreed upon matter, but Odinar wondered if he should not find a teacher and try again.

He could ask Evony. Something in Odinar immediately rebelled at the idea. The Hearth Witch would gloat at his request and Odinar did not need to hear gloating.

Have you ever attempted to cook any of these dishes?” he asked the Priestess, some time after he’d asked his last question.

Offline Aelarian Weber

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Re: Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken
« Reply #6 on: Sep 19, 17, 01:56:05 AM »
An unexpected discomfort, then, as it seemed to be. Having only ever encountered those that were wary, uncertain, outright hated, or wished to be Eyrien, the complexity of the Prince Odinar's viewpoint gave Aelarian something to consider, which was better than the needling instinct to shoo the Warlord Prince elsewhere. Given of course, the remote possibility of shoo and Warlord Prince occurring without a most difficult display, the Priestess chose to hold her tongue. It was very, very strange to her to be asked queries, however if it pleased and offered calm, in the end that served to her benefit as well, she supposed.

"You do not like it. I see. The hailing was but offered ..." out of her own personal defiance to all of the too rigid ideas of many of those that had been returned to the Darkness by his father, and the frustration she had often felt when her husband had been among the living, but she was not entirely if mentioning such a view in that context would be appropriate. "... out of respect of your existence. It is not intended to erase your additional parentage," the Priestess decided to say.

Almost, she considered speaking the words in blunt form: well, you at least weren't paired with one of the most contradicting ridiculous fools, so perhaps it was a blessing to see the truth of the world in youth. Yet, to speak so plainly was something Aelarian had been so well trained against, the statement and the starkness of it remained a unspoken apparition.

She suspected that putting others on edge whether intended or no was a matter that the Master of the Guard constantly warred with, and most particularly Aelarian found it fascinating that he did not seem to give way to those impules and rage in the immediate sense that his Caste was known for, in a clinical sense, at least. It was far safer that she not consider the difference beyond that juncture, thus, in cautious thought, the Priestess' nimble mind moved on.

"No, alas. Enjoyment of our home, would that it were enough, is not. Truly, the only repair for that, is time, trial and an allowance for error - were it permissible. When I think Eyrien, I consider each in an individual sense, just as I do Glacians, and Rihlanders alike. So no. It does not bother me, but I have used my time to teach myself that sense of cautious indifference," Aelarian continued stacking the remainder of the books, despite the fact that the task was not needed, she preferred keeping herself busy rather than idle. 

"We are ... Blood and with that sense of power, comes both good, and the bad. My mother teaching me to fly as a child, Prince, is Eyrien. But it is not the same Eyrien that you were looked down upon, is it? Words change depending on usage. It is the former that I think of, when I consider myself part of one whole. Yet, that does not mean I would forget my late father's Rihlander heritage. Not ever. I am both at once. We cannot saw our hearts from our minds, even as much as it might seem prudent, Prince."

With those words granted, the faintest of all possible smiles, if one could call the twitch of lips that, appeared as quick as it vanished upon Aelarian's face. Down, down, down, she pushed the memories of spoiled, once perfect meals from being thrown against the walls from dislike, at the question of cooking. Oh, she had cooked many meals.

Scoured the library for Torar's pleasure, and all for naught. The sudden tightening in her chest was disregarded. Instead, Aelarian focused on half a thousand moments of each new meal she had learned to make, and the joy found in her successes.

"I have. I like food, and assembling it. If the directions are followed with a meticulous manner with a mind open toward art, it can be soothing. If you are seeking to attempt to prepare a meal, there are books for that, as well, even though it is much more active a task in the learning. Glacian meals ... from what I have learned, presentation and elegance are nearly as important as flavours, where Rihlanders prefer richness and quantity, presuming I have understood correctly, of course." By the time the Priestess had finished her explanation, the severe calm that had been so briefly ruffled was once more at ease.

Offline Odinar Elbremov

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Re: Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken
« Reply #7 on: Dec 01, 17, 01:00:44 AM »
On some level, Odinar understood that his hatred of being called an Eyrien was semantics. Rihlanders considered him an Eyrien. Eyriens considered him an outsider. He’d spent centuries existing in two worlds while belonging to neither. He didn’t know any Taceans, but assumed from all of his knowledge of the Short-Lived that they’d treat him with the same bias and prejudice as the Rihlanders and Eyriens. It merely confirmed Odinar’s belief that his father was right to take the Territory and hold it until the right kinds of people were born and came of age. Odinar waited for the people with vision and intelligence to come along and recognized what Kalvar had done for them with his actions. He doubted it would happen in the next few generations, but it would happen someday.

Still, that didn’t excuse Odinar nearly biting off Lady Weber’s head over the matter.

I apologize, Lady Weber. The distinction is important only to me. You’ve always been civil in our interactions.” Odinar said.

I envy your ability to see them as they are. My mother taught me to fly as well. She was always good to me. When I think of good Eyriens, I remember her. I remember my--

Odinar paused. “I remember a woman that I loved, a Priestess, who was always good to me, even when she had no reason to be. There are a few good Eyriens that I could name.

The bad ones just make it harder to reconcile the good ones among their number.
” he said.

She mentioned that there were books on cooking and Odinar perked up, just a bit.

My father is an excellent cook, but you know that. There are days that I think he’d be happier doing nothing more than cooking for people and enjoying their delight at his foods. I didn’t get that skill from him, though. It would be wonderful if I could cook, but there’s no chance of it happening.” Odinar said.

He applied heat to things, but cooking skill had eluded him as easily as social skills had. He listened as she explained how Rihlander dishes varied from Glacian cooking. Both people seemed overly severe to Odinar, though Rihlanders seemed more willing to loosen up and have a good time, sometimes. Of course, he’d never been to Rihlander moot, but he’d seen evidence of them. He’d seen evidence of their parties and revelry.

My sister loves to cook, though. Perhaps I’ll bring her one of these books you’re referring to, just because. Her mother, my step-mother, loved to cook as well.” he said.

What's your favorite Rihland dish?I love beef stew, personally.” he asked.

Offline Aelarian Weber

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      Haloriel

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Re: Books Worth Fathomless Words Unspoken
« Reply #8 on: Dec 07, 17, 03:12:44 AM »
The apology meant the absolute world to Aelarian, even though there was barely any change in the expression upon her face, save for the near imperceptible twitch upward of her lips followed by the manner in which her brown and golden gaze lingered upon the Warlord Prince. For several moments, the Librarian simply listened, her wings fluttering just a little. As Odinar spoke and explained his thoughts and memories, for precisely a minute too long did she manage to hold his gaze without blinking, lost between a variety of ideas which might help his cause and the knowledge sought, and simply the sound of the man's voice. Slowly the Priestess drew in a breath and allowed what would have passed for a smile in others, where the Librarian gave a half bow with gracefully lowered eyes.

"I believe this is ordinarily the place where I say that your apology is not required, and yet, it occurs to me that I should rather say that I am sorry for those you have met in your life, those that you see from a distance that have made you feel as though Eyrien is less, both from the actions of others, and from the cruelty you have faced. You are right. The numerous bad and unpleasant ones do make the little joy we gain hard to reconcile."

Given the importance of topic, she listened with interest regarding his father's skills in the kitchen, which were nothing short of wonderfully pleasant, but also made sense given the depth of his Jewels as well as Odinar's own. It made perfect sense to her to be able to feed the depth of all of that power. When he said he'd never learn to cook, given her sense of propriety, Aelarian did not so much as even think in the direction of laughter. 'The incident' regarding the last time Odinar was allowed near a kitchen or cooking space was practically legendary, and no one that was not family or very close to his family would have been fool enough to speak of it, which included herself.

"I think, that you could learn, if you would allow my opinion upon the matter. Even though you have clearly made up your mind. There is a subtle aspect to cooking that most miss. It took me decades to get a number of recipes perfected. My late husband's considerable absences gave me time, you see. Your father however, is still a far better chef than I can claim," the lady remarked, giving credit where it was appropriately due.

"I enjoy a good, rich bowl of stew, along with fresh brown bread to dip. It reminds me of my father. It was his mother that was fully Rihlander, though of course, she was long returned to the Darkness by the time of my birth." Aelarian walked around the desk with a slight spring in her step, though if one had asked her why, she'd not have been able to answer the query. The cart of returned books was once more filled; in the time that Odinar had spoken to her a few people had come through and left the books they did not need upon the tables. Instead of Craft, once more she collected each book by hand, still either listening, or commenting upon what the Master of the Guard had to say.

Turning her head, she nodded. "It is the good people in our lives that we strive to recall, Prince Odinar," Aelarian remarked, placing her left hand to the lowest point in her back, beneath her left wing. Despite the illusion charm and shields that hid the differences in her scent, the pain was not a matter that could at all really be altered. "As such," she continued, wheeling the cart back his direction after collecting the books needing to be returned. "Since you are here, I wanted you to know that I forgive you. Even if you do not believe it needed. As easy as it is to offer death to another, do not allow it to weigh upon your soul. It is not you, nor your father that caused my late husband to be a fool and break our family."

It was three seconds after that she realised her phrasing implied more than one.

"I suppose I have placed my foot well within mouth," she muttered almost too low to be heard, with a grumpy noise released softly.

But perhaps he'd not notice, given the books and the rest that had brought him.

"Shall we away to the second floor? I cannot fly to it, but I can escort you, given that my shift is completed." With that, she reached back to the desk to ring the bell that would bring forth one of the lower librarians she was charged with directing, and a middling fair skinned woman with brown hair in a neat bun came out from behind the office behind the front desk. "Lady Dahl? If you would attend the desk?"

"I certainly will, Lady Weber." Too young to really react more than a clumsy curtsey and a very bright blush, Aelarian's replacement offered one of a likely long list of usual reactions to Odinar's presence. "There are two entire subject areas to be restocked. If you could between visitors," Aelarian remarked, deliberately not giving the Master of the Guard time to react to any bit of oddness in her aura or the absolute lack of one unless he chose to push past the Sapphire Illusions and Scent Altering around her, she began to move toward the second floor with efficiency, not much considering that making use of a steep ladder to get where they needed to go if anyone found out her secret, would be worth considerable yelling.

"This way, Prince."

She disregarded the twinge of pain with each step up the ladder to the stunning second floor, which was filled with stained glass windows that she had helped design herself.

"It will be faster if you at least, fly up. It is well worth the effort, this I promise you."

 

 

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