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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 11:30:02 GMT -6
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:26:48 GMT -6
Like last month when she 'helped' Ada with her little comet-watching gig that turned into a babysitting job, Lethalia found another flier just outside of the quester's cottage as she passed by. This time, she was on the way home, chasing down the last rays of sun with another bundle of blankets piled in her arms. Turning the sheaf of paper side over side, Lethalia couldn't deign any more out of the words no matter what way it faced, so she stuffed the leaf into her back pocket for later. It was more of a priority to get this adorable bundle home, not working on her reading skills! That admittedly kept sinking lower and lower down the list; there was so much to do that didn't involve sitting. Or reading. She'd read some day, she swore it! Just.. not today. In the meantime, she would find someone to tell her what the invite was all about. Ivaylo lv|0.1 ly|0.1
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:27:12 GMT -6
Perhaps it was the long walk home that invited her nostalgia, but for some reason she couldn't help but be reminded of her yearning as the Caravan passed through charming farm towns; the idea of owning a swath of land to call hers had a fairy tale-like quality to it then. Not that she would have had anything as precious in her hands back then either - a newly hatched red hen from the Pit lay curled and bundled within her arms. Not that she walked because she distrusted her mounts, but she had some precious cargo. Maybe they could enjoy some time together on a long walk home. Though... it was pretty strange that the entire road had an orange glow to it, the faraway din of... people? Lethalia doubted it at first, especially at the hint of baked something pumpkin spice lingering in the air. It had to be the over-indulgence of her nostalgia that tricked her brain into thinking there was some sort of faire practically at her doorstep. 2 |
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:27:30 GMT -6
It was just so doubtful. Seldom did she even see one of her neighbors on these walks home, and that was normally for the better, seeing as their 'country hospitality' would usually find her tied up for hours with a story or baked goods being piled into her arms. But activity around their narrow laned road? Most folks knew to stay away, since the same 'hospitality' that would invite Leth in with open arms would be the same to threaten a passerby away with a shotgun, if they weren't recognized. So it was curious to hear enough people to make something of a crowd. Readjusting the bundle in her arms, Lethalia peered down the road, brightly orange and glowing all down the hill it first dipped down into and far into the hills it rolled over in the distance. A string of tiny orange glowing lights (which would later prove to be pumpkins) were suspended on either side of the road, some hanging off trees and fenceposts, and others appearing to merely float in the air. 3 |
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:27:51 GMT -6
It was beginning to look a lot like there really was a little farmer's faire, right at her front door. Another few steps into the orange glow, and she could see some of the lights dangled by thin almost-translucent thread. The woman squealed as one such tendril brushed her arm and stuck, causing her to face the fact that the many lacy streamers of white dangling off the trees were too realistic to be mere craft store cotton. Flicking the webbing off, she peered suspiciously into the tree boughs; if someone's weaver was still here, she was gone. Funny little red eyes glowed from within the tree's leaves and the bushes below, lights to make it look as though the fairgoers were being watched wherever they went. Somebody went to a lot of work, and she could think of a few busybodies who would do it. Oh. Oh! It was Vai-Min-Mur time, wasn't it? It was maybe painfully obvious now, but it really had slipped her mind. 4 |
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:28:02 GMT -6
Lethalia bit off another annoyed squeak as she walked straight into a glittering purple bat, showering her and the curious hatchling's head that emerged from her blankets. "Lots goin' on, huh?" she chose to ask the red hen, instead of dwelling on the impossibility attempting to not spread this glitter all over home. A few sparkles were wiped off the hatchling's soft scales before she could try and get them in her eyes or something. "Y'first Vai Min Mur! Thinkin' it suits ya' pretty good, Ivaylo." Not like she'd planned it that way, but Ivaylo's dusty pink-red scales looked nice with all of the bolder oranges and reds swirling about them. This little one was a fairly suitable October baby, but it hadn't been till now that she considered it. Perhaps reds weren't especially cold-weather critters, but the dusty maroon and burgundy of a red hen matched quite charmingly anyway. Ivaylo lv|1 ly|1
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:28:21 GMT -6
The way this year had been going, Lethalia would have hardly taken notice October had fallen upon them were it not for the celebrations right in front of her. Ivaylo had been picked up on something of an impulse, having decided all of a sudden she needed a red hen. She only just barely acknowledged the season then, and the fact that she was going about it the 'wrong' way to have a sarane baby to raise going into the cold. It was as much thought as she'd give to fall thus far, mind abuzz with her new sarane breeding project she wanted to set in motion, the working with more houluh in the future. Apparently, she'd been so in her head as of late an 'intervention' of this sort was just what she needed, with how remiss of her it was to not notice the sway of the seasons when it was imperative to most of her hobbies. 6 |
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:28:33 GMT -6
Further down the road, clusters of them every quarter-mile or so, were produce carts full to the brim of the fall harvest, gathering in groups every few miles down the road. This was what really screamed of the harvest season for her! Leaden heavily with an array of locally farmed goods, some were piled high with all sorts of gourds in delightfully varying colors and sizes, or a stacked pyramid of corn with the husk of a few peeled away to reveal the jewel tone kernels nestled within. It was hard to tell nowadays, which ones were merely heirloom varieties that were unmussed by industry, or they sported brilliant colors from some of the labs' doing. Either way they were a sight to behold, their heady the scent of autumn with the produce and crushed leaves beneath traveling feet made Lethalia's soul sing. Before she learned to love winter, she'd always had an affinity for fall. 7 |
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:28:50 GMT -6
Perhaps it was because it had been fleeting to her as winter, with the Caravan constantly chasing fair summer weather, always leaving just before sweet fall had taken it's hold. If they lingered just a bit too long, she might have been able to see the first few leaves turn red, the first bouquet of cider brewing - all portents of disaster for a Grand Caravan that avoided the winter at all costs. Such signs of the harvest season meant biting winter was too close at hand, and they would certainly have left before a single tree would finish turning, before she could taste the sweet spiced cider whose scent lingered on the winds even after the town disappeared from view. Being able to stay in one place to observe the changing of the seasons would never fail to feel like some kind of magic, no matter how many times she witnessed it. 8 |
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:29:18 GMT -6
If she'd been less tied up in her own head, she would have loved to watch the trees change into their more seasonal colors one at a time, some all at once and some within weeks. She would have watched the pumpkins and other mysterious gourds grow fat in her friends' farmyards, observe specially trained creatures harvest delicate fruits off trees. Even the marvel that was loud, grinding machinery that inhaled cornstalks by the row and spat out tiny jeweled corns didn't feel out of place, and last year she watched the metal monsters devour entire fields for hours on end. At least it was all here now, as if condensed into some of the best of what fall had to offer to make up for all that she'd missed out on already. Of course, since she's a neighbor of all the lovely folks with their wares out for display here and now, it meant she would absolutely never be able to walk the lane home without the entire lot of them descending down upon her. 9 |
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:29:54 GMT -6
They were all lovely people, and Lethalia counted herself lucky that a nomad like herself had been able to assimilate into the cozy rural cultures she envied during endless travel. At the same time, these folks were in your business as much as the traders of the Caravan - and that was to say a lot - and seemed to expect her to do the same. One slip and you might have a trader - er, neighbor - who knew just what could manipulate you into purchasing their wares... be they trade goods or gourds or vying for your time and ear, the personality was all the same. This peculiar game of thrones was a little bit beyond her, but did the best she could to play the game. Just like anybody around these parts with dangerous beasts and a firearms hidden just beyond sight, these folk weren't the type she cared to fall upon bad graces with. Ivaylo lv|2 ly|2
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:30:21 GMT -6
They welcomed her into the fold as long as she played it right, and she knew well they could make her little farm a living hell if she accidentally spurned someone. This close to town, they all knew her and certain people beckoned her over to their carts so that she could fawn over their wares like they wanted, and of course pick her brain for the best new country gossip. Unfortunate that she never was able to play 'the game' well enough to have any juicy gossip, but did think to pull the crumpled invitation from her back pocket while speaking to Beatrice. It might not strictly be 'gossip', but it would likely be enough as an offering to sate the curiosity of the neighbors. "Oh, what else is a youngin' like you gonna be doin' for the holidays?" the old woman was pressing, after pinning Lethalia down with the story about her multicolored beets. She was lucky she hadn't gotten any food shoved at her while being told she didn't eat enough - but this was only the first stall. 11 |
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:30:45 GMT -6
At one point in time the satyr had the willingness to walk away from such a conversation, but she didn't have the luxury of never having to see someone she offended ever again. Damn proximity. Damn her going soft. "I didn' even know bout this little gatherin', I migh' not be the best'un to ask. I did jus' pick up this-" The invitation was whipped out of her hand almost before she could finish mentioning it. She'd always wanted to ask Bea what she was, a woman who looked mostly human, but Leth flinched away from sizeable talons that snatched the invite from her hands. The woman's face was well-creased with laughter lines and looked like she was stunning in her youth, again mostly human but with something predatory-off about her smile that hinted there was more to her. But, well, it wasn't exactly a question you just asked someone. 12 |
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:31:28 GMT -6
That was the point of gossiping with other neighbours. "Well dear! A costume party at the archmage's tower? Doesn't that sound just grand; what costume are you going to wear?!""Hadn't even thought 'bout it yet - wait," she balked, parsing all of what the old woman told her, "Bea, didja say the Archmage's tower?""Like he thinks he's bein' clever!" a more coarse voice responds, another one of their community drifting over to see the lastest 'news'. "Ain' nobody be needin' his address, errybody knows the gods-damned tower!" An elderly sheep mamillan that walked with a hunch in his back and a gnarled hand-carved cane, stark-white wool that he claimed was once black in his youngin' days; him and Bea weren't 'together', but they had this on-and-off thing going for them. Leth called him an 'old goat' all the time just to fuss him. Yeah, she officially knew too much and played into it way too much. Too late to turn back now. 13
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Post by Lethalia on Oct 31, 2020 14:32:52 GMT -6
"Prob'ly keepin' things quiet after the ruckus last time," Bea commended sagely, handing the invitation back. "They're not gonna wanna scare away all their partygoers tomorrow!""Bah. Seein' a 'monster' in the wee hours of the morn? The kinda' people who stay out that late are just the ones too drunk t' know a real beast from the ass end of a murp!""What happened las' year?" Lethalia asked a little too late; the odd couple was already turned to one another, somehow a deep discussion stoked and looked to get a little intense fairly quickly. They even fought like an old married couple. Taking the gap to wave cheerfully and extract herself, the satyr dodged out of there while she had a chance. Trailing down the road at her own pace, letting Ivaylo take in all of the sights that were so novel to her, Leth managed to keep distance enough that nobody else could pin her down quite long enough to get in a story. 14
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