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Post by Vorn Do'Urden on Jan 24, 2023 12:36:41 GMT -5
Vorn's white hair flowed behind him, and he might have enjoyed how it contrasted with his black tunic and accentuated his silver ring, were it not for his destination. It felt like every time he went to the apothecary, he carried his sister's pale-ghost face in his mind, her eyesockets so deep, with so little flesh between skin and bone that she might well have passed for an undead - especially with all the veins that sprouted out from her and made her look like a vengeful spirit.
She certainly seemed to want to get her revenge on him every time they locked eyes, he thought as he casually threatened to stick his knee out against one very drunken dwarf's face, after he'd almost dared defile Vorn's personal space. He could spend all his weekly wages on herbs for all the good it did: it always felt like she and mother expected more of him. Like he had the power to snap his fingers and make their problems go away, and he was just too lazy to try.
Maybe I am, he thought, as he opened the door to the tavern. Just a little drink before doing the boring, thankless work. Folk back home probably wouldn't approve, which made it all the sweeter... if not for a small bit of hesitation growing in his mind.
The barkeep looked at him expectantly for a moment, and Vorn was about to enter, when he thought better of it. One drink led to three or four, and he couldn't go around making a habit of spending gold like that. Conversely, he also couldn't pretend a member of the Do'Urden clan had simply made a mistake, and taken a false step. Mother would kill him. Perhaps literally.
It was why he put on his most haughty expression, and pretended to look about the place as if looking for someone. Once he didn't see whoever he was looking for (because they didn't exist), Vorn turned around graciously and confidently, and simply left without a word. Let them make of that what they would.
He went straight to the apothecary afterwards, making a point of acting as if he flowed rather than walked, as mother had taught him... even if she would have reminded him he looked more like a very drunken dog when he moved were she there. And indeed, Vorn slipped on something wet halfway there, lost his balance, fell hard and panifully on the floor, then moved on as if nothing had happened, only slightly blushing from the experience.
He opened the door to his original destination, cleared his throat to announce his prescence, and half walked, half limped to the counter, leg only slightly sore and stiff from the experience. Long as no other Do'Urden heard of his slip, he would be fine very soon, he gathered.
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Post by Xhavian Navarre on Jan 24, 2023 17:08:28 GMT -5
It was another year ago yesterday. Another year where he sat at the house and remembered what it was like to say goodbye to his mother. Wishing her well. Wishing for her safety. Promising to be good, to mind the house, himself. His magic. It was another year with the memory of her sad smile and the feeling of her embrace drifted along the boundary between perfect clarity and the haziness of time's constant erosion. Seen so perfectly, so beautifully like stardust... before it was distant like the stars themselves in the next blink.
Xhavian had spent it as he had every year before. Home. Alone. A table set for two, but it was only him that ate his mother's favorite breakfast, that enjoyed her favorite snack, that lost his appetite for all the things he made that he knew she liked for dinner, and that couldn't find it in him to even touch the dessert that she loved. Sitting alone. Sitting at home. Though it... it didn't really feel like home anymore. It hadn't for some time. The same number of years she'd been gone, as a matter of fact. Or coincidence.
A part of him, a part that made him feel guilty the way it twisted about inside, almost wished that Ardreth hadn't given him the day off from helping in the apothecary. Better to be busy and distracted than quiet and without light. Not that he would have asked to work. Not that he would have done anything other than ask for it off himself so that he could go home and wait. Just in case. Always in case, really.
The moment he stopped waiting for her was the moment she wouldn't return, after all. Or so his frantic mind liked to tell him. Whenever he started to doubt. When the world became far too big.
He was grateful to be working now, though. The day passed yet lingering in the way he couldn't stop thinking about it. Without something to do would have made it much worse. The loneliness. The way it sort of ate away at him. It didn't quite feel like falling apart if there were things that needed doing, even if it was just a simple bit of restoking that should have been going smoother than it currently was.
"I swear, if you break apart on me now, I'm going to be very upset," would be the first words heard by anyone entering the apothecary as they washed out the sound of the jingling chimes hung just above the door. Of course, the resounding creak of protest coming from the stool being used for things it shouldn't be used for—standing, in this case—quickly had him backpedaling with a, "And by that I mean, 'I'd be happy to polish you up a bit' in payment for your services," which covered the sound of someone clearing their throat as well as the footsteps that lead to the counter.
Should someone happen to be present and look in the direction of the voice that was seemingly talking to itself, of course, they would be greeted with the graceful display of an elven man standing on top of a rickety-looking piece of furniture clearly meant for sitting. Hair aglow as it spilled about his shoulders. A few starlight freckles visible along the length of his pointed ears. The balancing act as he stacked a few things above the shelves in the void between the top and the ceiling would have been quite impressive... were not for the way he was clearly unbalanced in his attempts.
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Post by Vorn Do'Urden on Jan 24, 2023 23:30:35 GMT -5
Almost as if he heard his mother's voice ringing through his brain like a fork repeatedly grinding against a plate, he knew exactly what she'd have said when faced with the lack of immediate service. How back three hundred years ago, you would never have been so disrespected, how it was absurd that standards had fallen so low - and how Vorn should have been more assertive when making his entrance, to gather every single person's attention in the room, and leave no doubt it was time for him to be seen to. The fact no one was even there barely mattered: someone would have shown up if he were a stronger elf.
Even now, after a decade of controlling himself to do otherwise, he still felt his hands begging him to let them clap together in order to demand complete, undivided attention, to show the world he was a Do'Urden, one who would not be left waiting. The fact the family could barely rub two gold coins together hardly mattered, an annoying little voice reminded him, deep in the recesses of his mind. Not when they had most valuable blood running through their veins.
He wished mother hadn't sent away the maid who'd looked after him as a child when they became too close. Pouring stupid ideas into a weak mind, was what she'd said when he'd begged her not to. And maybe her ideas had been stupid, from a certain viewpoint.... but had Vorn been intrigued by her talk of him not being less or more than anyone else, and that he deserved as much respect as every other Do'Urden in that household. Maybe he'd have been able to assimilate her teachings better had she not left, and maybe he wouldn't still have been so tied to all the trappings that fourty years of habits had etched onto him.
Wondering about what might have been, he knew, was a little pointless. Especially when the present could be so much more interesting, with what at first sounded like a parent disciplining their child, but then took a more interesting turn, when mention of a polishing, of all things, surfaced, as a form payment for services. This briefly made Vorn wonder what kind of depraved dealings were happening in this place... and if maybe his mother hadn't been entirely wrong about how things were run a good three hundred years ago, when the world was allegedly more innocent.
He shouldn't peek, surely. To protect his eyes and his psyche. But those thoughts ran through his mind just as he leaned on the counter to look at where the voice had come from, white hair spilling over and almost hitting the floor, just as his eyes got filled with light.
It wasn't natural light, exactly. Or maybe it was the most natural of them all, since it emanated through a living being. It was all very magical, and Vorn annoyingly had no knowledge of these things. There was... what was he called again? And he was... doing something very dangerous, apparently, for the sake of stacking things in high places. Not all were gifted with the foresight of a Do'Urden, it seemed, and Vorn briefly made a mental note to bring the poor worker a ladder when he next swung by the place.
That was for another day, though. For the immediate moment, Vorn focused on gently tiptoeing his way over to the light-filled elf, taking care so his movements wouldn't startle him. With luck, he wouldn't even know a member of a respected family had approached and stood just a small distance behind him. In case he fell, Vorn could probably just push him towards relative safety.
It felt dangerous and reckless to say something and startle the apothecary's helper, which might have caused him to fall and hurt himself. It also felt like a bad idea to do anything about the stool without saying a word, for that very same reason. Maybe hovering behind wordlessly wasn't the brightest idea, either, but it was as far as his weak mind could take him, and it would have to do. Besides, a small part of Vorn might have been a little curious to find out how long until the other elf realized he wasn't alone here. But if that was the case, he'd never have admitted it.
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Post by Xhavian Navarre on Jan 26, 2023 18:58:11 GMT -5
Of all the things that had a chance of crossing Xhavian's mind—fleeting and flickering, leaving him as quickly as they arrived, shifting as if they were specs of dust carried on the wind or by whims—the notion that maybe he shouldn't have put himself in such a position hadn't been one of them. He had a box, a box that needed to be stacked with the others that were above this particular shelf according to Ardreth, and while there was a ladder in the back room that he could have grabbed to make things a bit less precarious for himself, the stool had been right there and could do the trick just as easily.
It didn't matter that every wobble of its slightly uneven legs made 'easily' tilt closer and closer to 'dangerously.' The solution had been found in the same glance that had him realizing how high up the box had to be tucked away before he grabbed the old, wooden thing, planted it before the display, and climbed up it. Carefully, at first and currently. A few moments of sudden freezing while he collected himself and made sure the wobble wasn't him actually tipping over.
His threat—and promise, perhaps—to the stool seemed to have worked, though, as with a final few inches of pushing, the box slid into place alongside the others. Weight and a breath of relief released as he leaned back a little. Unawares and unperturbed. It was a small sense of victory, even if it was a mundane task. That it was now completed was the important part.
As was common in shops like these, there was a bit of dust and residue that tended to drift about. Hazards of a still atmosphere, of herbs and powders and various grounded down things that didn't always stay in their proper places. Tending towards being kicked up, to fall invisibly unless light was cast directly on it and doing so with only the slightest bit of disturbance. Such as it did now, with a box being placed somewhere that hadn't been dusted or thought to be dusted in quite some time.
Unfortunately for Xhavian, he didn't sense the impending doom of a sneeze crashing against him until it was too late. Braced against the shelf. Attempting to lower himself back to the floor. There was a sharp and stuttered inhale as the dust didn't agree with his nose, a pinching and needlelike irritation flaring to life, and in the moments before he sneezed, a very quiet, "Oh no—"
...only for the force of his sneeze, one that was covered with an arm—the very one that was keeping him from toppling over, in fact, but Xhavian didn't exactly have time to think better on that—to send him backward. Off balance. Off the stool. To the ground.
Or so he had initially expected. Instead of the cold wooden floor he was somewhat familiar with after having collided with it on more than one occasion, however, there was a strong physique that he crashed into. Warmth against his natural self. A firmness there as he was able to hold himself up, to keep himself from falling.
With a blink of cosmic eyes, Xhavian found that his savior from a few bruises was a face he recognized. Regal white hair. Proud and serious features. A stillness and quiet that he enjoyed in the moments between words in their previous exchanges, regardless of them having been brief, Ardreth insistent that he return to the back to catalog or clean or something similar that he had likely already completed for the day.
"Oh, hello again," Xhavian breathed, scars shimmering with their nebulous hues, complimenting the stars that dotted the bridge of his nose and forehead. Carefree. Kind. Polite. Burdenless as he offered the man—their name not his to know—a small smile with that quiet greeting.
Until his errant thoughts caught up, and the embarrassment of having fallen into this man crashed into him in not too dissimilar of a manner. Metaphorically speaking, at least.
"Or, that is, hello, good sir, and, gods, I am so terribly, terribly sorry for—" Xhavian quickly extracted himself, ducking his head as a blush painted itself across his cheeks, complementing the shift in color of his scars, a faint pink within the luminous cyan. "I didn't see you there, which I am... sorry for that, too. For not hearing the door, and well..."
It was then that the chaotic swirl of his eyes returned to the other man, his emotions unbearably genuine in his anxiousness, his guilt, and his concern. "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I? I've been told I'm a bit bony, and my elbows have a habit of finding sensitive places and very hard things if I'm not too careful with them. Nearly broke one once with the way it found a wall, and—" He was rambling. Words tumbling forth, slipping free, and wrapping themselves all around them.
"—was there something that you needed?" he blurted out, all but interrupting himself. "Or that I can help you with?" A bit quieter and under his breath as he hung his head, he added, "...or I can just leave you be since I've kind of made a mess of things already."
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Post by Vorn Do'Urden on Jan 27, 2023 15:04:50 GMT -5
Apprehension was how Vorn could describe watching someone balance themselves like that, so precariously, all for the sake of doing their job of keeping the inventory in its rightful place. Had the owner of this place not taught their employees proper safety when working? Had they been that careless, and willing to let the hired help suffer like that?
Oh, this would not do. Vorn would- he would write a very strong worded letter, yes. And with the Do'Urden seal, that mother would borrow, no less. That would show the owner of the apothecary to treat people like garbage. It would also show Vorn's amazing sense of fairness and skill in making people's lives better. Assuming mother never found out he could walk into her study and pick up the official seals without her noticing, that was. But after eight years of doing so, that hardly was a concern in his mind.
He had to admit, though: the glowy elf really did seem to have the hang of it. Vorn was personally more a fan of using small gaps on shelves when finding his balance during climbs, but he couldn't deny the other elf's method was... working. It might not have been safe, but you couldn't argue with results.
There was the slightest bit of guilty annoyance creeping up on Vorn as he thought this through, he had to admit. So often had he heard sermons over his own failings or over successes achieved in substandard ways, he'd assumed just this once, he could have said a few choice words of disapproval over something someone else was doing for once, but it would not be today, apparen-
Oh, there it was.
A sneeze had been how Vorn had fallen on his sister, years ago, when he'd first started working on his predilection for climbing. She'd just put on her favorite dress, too - one that got itself a nice, large tear by the time they'd untangled from one another. Immediately afterwards, she turned his legs into solid blocks of ice for the rest of the day, and even though he hadn't been able to move, even though his backside hurt spetacularly, and even though mother still said he would be punished if he didn't finish his chores despite his state, that had still been one of the sweetest days of his life, just for the look on sister's face.
And now, here was another sneeze, bringing all sorts of good memories back to his mind, and turning the idea of giving a sermon into a possibility. What a great day this was turning out to be. Soon, the worker made the mistake of forgetting to have a proper grip on things, and nature did its job of bringing him down.
A proper Do'Urden would have let the poor elf fall. Some, more degenerate members would have pushed him out of the way but not gotten overly involved in case being a commoner was something you could catch. That had been Vorn's inital intent, just in case mother saw, since she had a crystal ball and all.... but then, something came over Vorn, and he moved towards the elf, intercepting his fall completely.
Thoughts of sermons left his mind as soon as his voice entered Vorn's ears. There was a gentleness - no, a kindness - to his tone that made reproaching the elf akin to kicking a puppy, and Vorn just couldn't bring himself to do it. Especially not when he offered a genuine smile that made Vorn just a little ashamed that he had ever thought of going on a small rant.
"... hello," was all he managed to say back, his long eyelashes meeting as he blinked, twice, and pushed away from his mind the basic principles of climbing that he'd already thought to recite.
Another thing that made him feel bad about the whole thing was that the poor elf was cold to the touch - surely another hint of being mistreated at the workplace. Oh, but that would be a very long letter, indeed. Heads would roll, yes, he thought, while pursing both lips together and supporting the repressed worker back to his feet. Literally, and soon, metaphorically.
Thoughts of gloriously putting the apothecary in his place didn't last for long, either: Vorn soon had to use all mental power to stiffle the grin that threatened to cross his features, when a torrent of words left the climber's mouth, made all the more amusing by the shade of pink that crossed him, and accentuated the luminous parts of his face. He didn't know people could weave so many threads together, and this one did it so swiftly, and so effortlessly, he might have been a poet - a bright one, at ahat, in every sense of the word.
"I... wouldn't have been standing behind you if I didn't mean to catch you. No need to say sorry," he said, promptly, to calm the elf down. There was the brief consideration of apologizing for sneaking up behind him like that, but Vorn wasn't feeling that gracious. "And I am unhurt. Your elbows and other bony parts were perfectly polite on their fall," he added, the slightest whiff of a lighthearted tone buried in his more composed voice.
"... are you alright?" he asked, after a moment of silence. "Why hasn't your benefactor provided you with ladders? You might have hurt yourself falling like that."
As the other elf asked what it was he wanted here, and strangely suggested he leave Vorn be - which would have been very far from the norm when attending a client - Vorn gave a small nod, and prepared his mind for business.
"I require some herbs for a tea, and your prescence is certainly vital - don't go anywhere unless you're hurt, please," he said, both because it was true, and to calm the elf's nerves. "I believe your benefactor knows of them - things that stave off the Pale Woe?"
"... Although, if you know of alternatives to tea, I'd be happy to hear them," he added on a whim. Should he come with a different remedy, but a remedy nonetheless... mother would go crazy. But she wouldn't say no to it.
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Post by Xhavian Navarre on Jan 27, 2023 22:41:51 GMT -5
It was a small breath of relief that came with his gentleness as the stranger, acquaintance, frequent patron of the apothecary, said that they were alright. One that had some of Xhavian's tension easing a little. Worry fading. Concern drifting. Guilt... remaining because he had all but landed on them in his small bit of flailing, but that was to be expected. It would probably be something he felt bad about every time he saw them after today.
"Good," he breathed, that genuine smile of his growing a bit more. "That's... that's definitely good, yeah? That you're alright and that my elbows behaved. Although, some might say there's no better place to get hurt in than an apothecary." Playfulness a shimmer. Teasing and careful. Cautious.
For all that he might be cold to the touch, though, Xhavian was nothing but warm. His soul as luminous as he. His emotions an aura about him, betraying with the way he could never quite hide them from expressions that were so easy to read to the way his own light would shift to accommodate them. Dimming or growing brighter. A change in their color for each one, though no one had ever been in his life long enough to learn them all besides his mother.
Not even he knew which each one meant, catching them only in reflections sometimes when it happened. It wasn't as if he could feel his scars or hair glow differently, knowing only what emotion was coursing through them then. A color that his mind held for each. The world around him rippling with it as it expanded outwards from his indiscernible core and visible only to him. Most times he was unaware that the color was reflected outward for others to see. Blissful in that ignorance.
Vibrant and calm blue, his natural hue, with flecks of rosiness.
"Hmm? Me? Oh, yeah. I'm perfectly alright," Xhavian said once his thoughts had caught up with what the man before him said, or asked, in this case. "A little stuffy from all the dust that was up there, which I'll definitely be cleaning up later now that I've found it," said a bit more thoughtfully before he returned to his normal, jubilant candor, "but to answer your other question, we do have a ladder in the back. It's just that the stool was right there, so why not use it, you know?"
Xhavian shrugged, not finding any fault with his logic as his words kept falling free. "Plus, it probably wouldn't have hurt more than that one time slid off the roof while cleaning the chimney. Especially not since you were here being all incredibly sturdy and a good catch, to boot—" his nebulous eyes went wide of his blunder, that rosiness a fierce flash of red, of bitten lips and blood, "—good catcher, I mean. Because you, well, you were there and caught me and we didn't both topple over despite my accidental efforts to, uhm, do that?"
Gods be kind and grant him a bit of silver speech instead of... whatever this was currently. Or just strike him down. Either, really. Either would work and both would be preferable.
"Which, I forgot to thank you, didn't I?" Xhavian continued. A whirlwind of thoughts that became words, threaded together by thin strands but connected nonetheless. Even if he was the only one to see them. "For catching me? Or being there to do so as you said you were. So, uhm, thank you. For that."
If there was any skill he truly did possess and one that he would actually claim for himself, it was his ability to ramble himself into awkwardness. Words trailing off. Eyes glancing away. A shift from such liveliness that painted itself across marred skin to one that was much more demure as he realized he was being too much compared to what most people were. That he was abnormal. Strange.
It was something he only proved further as he tried to force himself into his role of assistant to Ardreth... less than smoothly. Asking after their needs and offering help. Roundabout-ly.
There was no masking the way Xhavian's eyes widened a little at the mention of the Pale Woe. Hearing the words not unlike being dunked into a vat of ice. Vibrancy dimmed. Embarrassment and playfulness from before replaced with a certain kind of stillness, a respectful stillness, as he quieted himself.
Everyone knew of it. Everyone that lived in the Pale City, at least. Another story told at the dead of night. Whispered to unruly, upper-class children. A nightmare without a cure despite some attempts made. All failed. All dead. And while his heart twisted, there was a slight bit of relief felt to not see any... veins on the man before him. He wouldn't have known what to do then, if it was appropriate to offer condolences or... something.
"Uhhh-huh. Yup. He, uhm, he's mentioned it. A little. I don't know the details. Obviously, but I know. Some things..." his words drifted as he scratched absentmindedly just under one of the scars on his cheek. A nervous tick. One he didn't always catch himself doing. "Just that there's a family—or someone, really. Nothing specific, of course."
Xhavian exhaled sharply and almost wished that they could back to him just embarrassing himself. But that was... an awful thing to think because then the man before him wouldn't get the things he needed for... for whoever was sick and in need.
"Ardreth has a few things packed up for you," he continued. "Said that you, or well, a person would be stopping by for them." What was he supposed to do with his hands? Tuck them into his pockets? That seemed... better than just scratching at his scar or the back of his neck. "They're back behind the counter if you want to follow me, but I... well, it might help, or it might not, but I—or Ardreth made a new batch of incense? It has a sharper smell to it, and helps with breathing because of it."
As a bit of an afterthought, with the pride of being the creator, he added, "Crisp like mint but as gentle as lavender."
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Post by Vorn Do'Urden on Jan 28, 2023 23:34:33 GMT -5
It was strange to see what looked to be genuine concern on the other elf's demeanour, free of any ulterior motive that Vorn could detect. It was like everything he did radiated openness and light, even friendliness, and all to a complete stranger at that. And if words and genuine smiles weren't enough, he glowed a color so calming that Vorn found himself staring perhaps a little more intently and for longer than was proper for someone of his station.
It was just so difficult not to, when he was... well, a little soothing, really, and so different from anything he'd seen before - and that was coming from someone whose family members could all fly freely, given a few decades or so of practice. There was a living example that there were things his clan simply didn't control or fully understand, no matter how vast their skills and knowledges were.
They'd never have grasped, for example, how the elf could fit so many words into such short an amount of time. In all fairness, Vorn didn't understand, either, but he did his best to keep up with the talk of elbows, and the best place to get hurt, that last part eliciting a reaction out of him: one slender eyebrow graciously arched up as he considered what had been said. The whole thing might have looked a lot better, if he didn't have to slightly raise his head to keep his bright green eyes at a level with the other elf's. Life would have been much easier if Vorn could look down on everyone.
"I don't think people who say such things have really thought it through," he declared matter-of-factly and without malice, as if he were commenting on the weather, or a piece of art that was interesting, but not overly so. "If you get hurt in an apothecary and no one's there to heal you, that's the same as getting hurt anywhere else. You need a healer, and one who's able and willing to help. So, the best place to get injured is next to a half competent healer who can and will help. Wherever that may be. Yes."
Half a second passed, and he quickly realized that he had spoken too much, given too many of his thoughts away, and probably bored the poor apothecary to death, all in one single stroke. He recuperated by shaking his head and focusing on another thing - one that he felt the elf needed to hear, for his own sake.
"Which would have been your situation, if you had gotten hurt here," he said, because the thought of the stranger's light glowing a depressive hue while he laid there hurt was one that bothered him more than he cared to admit. "At most I'd have been able to run around the street screaming for help, mind."
Vorn let out a sigh, then, and because he wasn't completely without manners, added. "... but thank you for asking after my health, and showing so much concern. It was very kind, and... and very proper," he said, gaze averting the other elf's as he bestowed upon him the most gracious compliment Vorn could have thought of.
At least he didn't have to think of how magnanimous he had been for long: the apothecary confirmed that he was alright, which was good. Excellent, even. As he rambled further, however, Vorn's head tilted to the side in surprise, his white hair cascading down and to the side as if on cue, like it had a life of its own. He had a ladder, and yet insisted on a stool... just after Vorn had already written a whole displeased letter in his head, too. Now he'd have to mentally throw it in the bin.
"You should-"
"Ah, I mean. I can't argue with results. Very good," he hastiliy stopped himself. Almost every day did Vorn hear what he should have done differently, what he shouldn't have done at all, and a whole lot more of should-haves. Inflicting that upon someone else would have been downright cruel. He had to be better than that - and if not better, than at least... different. No one should have to be told how to live their lives. And yet-
"Just- perhaps there's a way to test the stool's limits next time. So you don't risk... what just happened and know when ladders are a must. Trained birds are also an option, if you wished to know," he added quietly, because it felt important, because he had climbed places before and gotten hurt, so he could sympathize. Vorn just hoped he wasn't coming across as a bore. That'd have been terrible.
Almost as if to prove him that he needed some help on the not falling department, the elf went on about his other injuries and-
"Oh," he muttered, a dash of color rishing to his cheeks, only subsiding slightly when the apothecary corrected himself. Being a good catcher was still a great bit of compliment, after all. "Yes, I suppose it really was a memorable catch. I won't be forgetting it, at least," he said quietly. It certainly wouldn't be the sort of thing that'd just flee his mind: there were things about this elf that weren't easy to forget, the glowy bits being the least of them.
"... and you really don't have to thank me," he added a touch more gently once the word barrage resumed and the elf remembered to do as such. "What matters is, no one is hurt, which I'm glad for."
No one in there was hurt, at least, but Vorn had a sick sister, and a topic he always dreaded to get into. One that he always did have to get into, on a daily basis.
They always made a face when they heard the name of the affliction, no matter what or in which context, and he couldn't blame anyone. It was shocking. A tragedy, even. One of the saddest parts for him was seeing the effect that illness had, which stretched far beyond the confines of a person, a room, a house, and hung dark clouds upon everyone who wanted to see their loved one well, no matter their distance from the afflicted.
It was the one negative thing about being of noble blood - the one thing any commoner could take relief in knowing they wouldn't have to concern themselves with unless they thought their mothers had been around a bit. Suddenly finding out you were noble like that would have been one sad way to ruin the family dinner, which Vorn assumed was, for many houses, composed mostly of potatoes and poverty - already pretty miserable to begin with.
At least poverty wasn't a concern his sister would have - not for the next few months, at any rate. And at least the elf hadn't said he was sorry when he heard the news, or asked any questions Vorn wasn't ready to awnser. He knew what Vorn was talking about, he had it all set to go, and he was ready to get to the point. It was the best thing Vorn could have asked for. Still made him feel terrible on the inside, but it was preferrable to alternatives.
The apothecary even had a suggestion, and a strange way of wording the maker of the incenses that had him gently pursing his lips together and sticking his tongue between them for the briefest of moments.
"The incense sounds like a very good idea. It... might help her focus. On bad days," he exhaled, and ran a hand through his face as if to will the thought away. For all the mutual hate between them, this was still Vorn's sister, and thinking of her... hurt. Which was why he gave a nod to agree to follow the elf to the counter, and decided to focus on the thing he had said about the incenses.
"...you and Aldreth make these sticks together, then? They do sound rather... posh," he said quiet and sincere. "May be I'll take one for myself, too."
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Adventurer
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Renown
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"It, uhm, it was an accident, I promise!"
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Post by Xhavian Navarre on Feb 4, 2023 16:17:26 GMT -5
Xhavian first reaction was to snicker, finding nothing but amusement at the other elf's correction. Smirk playing upon his lips. The dry and stately tone adding to the humor of it and making it easy for him to continue to be a touch more like himself as embarrassment and mortification faded away. Playfulness returning amidst all his friendliness. Welcomed and encouraged by the simplicity of it simply being who he was.
There was something else, though. Something quieter. He didn't know what it was, but the thought that, strangers that they were, the man before him would go and find help if he had hurt himself in the apothecary was... warming. A sensation that unfurled in his chest.
"Alright, alright, you have me there," he chuckled softly, a shake of his head causing starlight hair to shift about his shoulders, their light scattering and flowing with each strand. "But you have to admit that, 'no better place to get hurt than an apothecary,' rolls off the tongue way better than 'no better place to get hurt than by a competent healer that can and will help you.'" A spark of mischief, of gentle teasing came as a bit of silver within his gaze. "Something to do with it being fewer words, I imagine."
His smile became radiant at the offer of thanks. A faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes, laughter embodied in more than just his voice. It was brushed off with a simple, "Oh, of course," because there was no reason, no instance in which he wouldn't have cared over the other man's well-being. Certainly not when he was the one that had posed something of a threat to it with his clumsiness and poorly-timed sneeze.
As the other elf spoke, then stopped himself, and then started speaking again with the mention of the stool, Xhavian canted his head ever so slightly. Curious. Patient. Wondering after what it was all about and if using a stool over a ladder was really quite a fuss. But before he could think it was a silly thing to suggest testing the stool and thereby ridding it of its convenience, that strange sensation came back again.
He had forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of someone caring after him and his own well-being. Platitude that it might have been, and yet—
—all too quickly he was making a fool of himself before he had a chance to say anything at all about how he might just try to leave the ladder up front from now on so that it wasn't a hassle to go to the back to retrieve it. Or that there was no chance in any plane of existence that Ardreth would let him have a bird inside the apothecary that didn't come with one of the customers. Much as he actually loved that idea.
Memorable catch. If he wasn't already blushing over his careless slip, Xhavian certainly was now. Rosy. Red. Painted and stained across his cheeks as he ducked his head, his laughter a nervous and bubbly thing. "That's, uhm, well, you know—me too. For being glad that neither of us is hurt."
It seemed the gods had decided against blessing him with an ounce of silver when it came to his tongue. Or smoothness.
If there was something that the somber tone, the seriousness that their conversation—or business as it swiftly became once he took to being assistant to the apothecary as he was supposed to be—was good for, it was preventing him from saying anything more ridiculous and embarrassing. Even if his words became stilted because of it. Even if he wasn't quite certain what to do with himself or what to say at all. It was better to struggle than to ramble. Or, at least, he hoped it was.
"It's always nice to have a change of... scent, too, you know?" he heard himself say at the mention of it being for a her and helping with the bad days as he led the other man over to the counter. Wooden door on the counter lifted and set back down as he slid behind it. The crate... located? Oh, gods. Where had Ardreth put it?
"Before I started working here," he ducked down to start looking. Slightly out of sight unless Vorn peered over the counter to watch. Sounds of things being shifted and scooted started to drift as Xhavian began rifling between the many things packaged and tucked away on the shelves. "...the apothecary had a sort of smell about it that was... not entirely pleasant. A bit like dead leaves and, uhm..." he trailed off when he thought he found the right box, only to look inside and see that it was instead for one of the... ladies that frequently had a certain set of potions on order every few weeks. "...like someone left out soup for a few days. Or weeks."
There was a thud as Xhavian bumped his head, his search coming up empty. He flashed the other man a reassuring smile as he rubbed the sore spot at the back of his head before he turned to one of the nearby cabinets and began searching in there. Of course, it wouldn't be the first place he looked.
"The place definitely needed a scent overhaul," he continued as he kept looking for the right package, "and a nice little benefit to making incense and candles is that their scent permeates the building. Plus, Ardreth lets me burn the ones that are slightly damaged or malformed," a few candles lit nearby testament to that, their shapes a bit crooked with a few chunks where bubbles had formed in the process.
As he failed to find the right set of items in the cabinet, the other man's question came or was finally heard or just registered as happening in his mind, and Xhavian blushed fiercely. Glancing away because he didn't want to lie but knew that sometimes people didn't like the truth once they learned it. "Oh, well, the incense is, uhm..." he scratched nervously at his cheek, just below one of his scars. A different one this time. "I make them, actually. And the candles. It's kind of a specialty? Not that—you can just say Ardreth makes them. In case someone asks."
He moved to a different set of cupboards this time, opening the doors and closing them when he didn't find what he was looking for. "I just have a knack for what kinds of smells go together," he added, smile fading to a frown as he started to question if the things left aside even existed for all that he couldn't find them. "It's a bit like... harmonies, and Ardreth is sadly tone-deaf, but the customers and clients that come through seem to like them—"
His eyes went wide at a very errant and very sudden thought dawned on him. This man was a client. Not a customer. He was a client because he was a noble, and "I haven't been calling you 'my lord' this whole time," he said in quite apparent horror. The words slipping free. Falling like ice. A near whisper as shock took over and what should have remained a thought was instead voice.
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Adventurer
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I may fail, but I'll still look amazing doing it
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Post by Vorn Do'Urden on Feb 25, 2023 16:55:06 GMT -5
He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel some relief upon seeing the other elf's reaction to his comment. The usual response Vorn got when he spoke more than he should, or gave his opinion on matters of magic was a yawn, not a chuckle. Perhaps he had been spending too much time at home with his family, or perhaps the glowy person before him was just better than most he had met. It wasn't easy to tell, as he had never given the other elf much thought until now - in fact, it didn't seem he'd given anything at all any amount of thought lately. His life had mostly resumed itself to finding remedies for his sick sister.
Perhaps it was because he saw something so... alien, in a sense, so unlike what he was used to, that the corners of his mouth relented into a thing that resembled a smile instead of a frown when he felt a hint of teaseness reaching his long, pointy ears. "Ah. Point taken," Vorn conceded, head gently lowering into a small nod. But he wasn't letting the matter go that easily, which was why in a quiet voice, he added one more little comment. ".... it's still wrong, though."
For all his attempts at appearing magnanimous, though, Vorn had to admit that the other elf had him far and away beat in terms of graciousness: he just seemed to so naturally accept his thanks, and with such good humor, too, that it almost had Vorn concerned there was some sort of joke that he didn't understand.... looming, somewhere around the apothecary, and that only the glowy individual could see. Or maybe that only Vorn didn't see, instead. It was hard to know where you stood when in ucharted waters.
And he almost got lost and drowned when the other elf showed another example of grace by simply canting his head to the side, and letting him try to explain himself so quietly and so gently. He had half expected to be cut short, or told off... but no. And then Vorn had to keep going, arguing about something that for him was important but apparently not so much to the braver of the two elves in the apothecary, which had him at the end feeling a little silly, and fidgeting on his feet in a brief moment of weakness.
A moment that extended when Vorn realized both he and the other elf had turned a little more rosy than usual, when they both shared gladness that no one had gotten hurt during the fall. He felt he should have said something else, maybe something... confident. But all he managed was a shy little nod in response.
Then the moment passed, and they were back to business - which somehow had Vorn both relieved and annoyed. Maybe one day he would rehearse a proper response in his head, when he thought of what had happened again, at which point there would be a suitably epic response to all comments life threw his way.... but that would have to wait until his sister wasn't sick anymore. Which would hopefully not also include her departure from life.
"Change of scent is good, yes," he said distractedly to wave away such thoughts and focus on the positive, arms resting on the counter as he waited for the apothecary to bring over the supplies that had been separated for him.
"Nothing's worse than a place that isn't inviting. Especially one from where you'll consume things," the elf commented, only slightly frowning at the sounds coming from the other side of the counter. Surely the apothecary was caring and organized enough to find what he needed without help. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind on that. None at all.
And just as Vorn leaned over to take a peek - to prove himself right and for no other reason, of course - he heard the bump, and gave the glowy elf a sympathetic frown of pain. Vorn might have asked if he was alright, had the apothecary not smiled, and if it didn't make him look like some kind of overzealous mother hen. Besides, he was speaking again so fast, there hardly was any time to really mull it over too much.
And the things the other elf had to say really were interesting - it seemed he was more than just someone who had this.... kindness to them, and a knack for slamming body parts against painful surfaces, and speaking faster than most could think. His knacks apparently extended to more subtle arts like candles, incenses, and who knew what else?
"So you are a sort of smell specialist, then?" he asked with genuine curiosty and a tilt of his head that had his hair flowing to the side as he discreetly watched the other elf work. "I imagine it must take a lot of dedication, to make sure all the candles and whatnot... harmonize. If that's the right term."
He let a small frown appear in his face, when he registered that the elf had said Vorn needn't tell anyone he was the one who made such designs. As someone who had spent the better part of his life trying and admittedly failing to be recognized for his achievments, he wasn't about to be a hipocrite and let someone else take the laurels for the hard work the elf before him had made.
"The candles and incenses are yours," he said firmly, a hint of anger not directed at the apothecary in his voice. "If those who like it won't accept that, I'll throw them at the river. Or be less drastic and keep them in my room. T-the candles, not the people," he hurriedly said....
And almost missed what the other elf had said, so caught up as he was in feeling anger at those not presently in the room. But he was already in a defiant, determined state, anyway - and besides, the other elf had already fallen on him. That pretty much dispensed formalities.
It was why to his own surprise, Vorn found himself waving his hand dismissively at the other elf's concerns. Immediately afterwards, fifty years of conditioning screamed against him to say something that'd put the apothecary in his place, but the elf raised and rolled his shoulders to let such thoughts pass him by, and then did his best to give the other person in the room a pleasant smile. It wasn't so difficult to be genuine when said person glowed so much with his own inner light, and had already produced another smile from him just moments ago.
"Just call me Vorn," he said simply, and because he was feeling particularly inspired, added, with a tone that had the slightest hint of teasing to it. "And do you... need some help, there? It's alright to admit you can't find the items, you know."
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