RijettaRijetta Nowhere ImportantMember Posts: 242 ✭✭✭✭
In which Rijetta makes a friend. Rijetta reveals something not many know.

The Waking Dream Cafe
The bright and airy interior of this cheerful cafe is well-furnished and spacious, clearly intended for socialization, and the buttery, sugary scent of cookies drifts through the air, even when the ovens are cool. Wide bay windows along the front of the cafe display a stunning view of the distant mountains, with thin
cushions lining the ledge to provide comfortable seating. With an opalescent, soap bubble glimmer, planks of polished magewood run the length of the cafe, matching the top of the bar. The sitting area is lined with cozy leather couches and armchairs in a tasteful range of gem tones, a cheerful contrast to the silvery-white stone tiles of the wall. Small round tables with floral cast-iron bases pepper the floor space, inviting customers to rest their beverages there and linger a while. On the far wall, an abstract mural of gem chips in every color imaginable swirls and dances, melting in and out of abstraction. In the back of the cafe, a gift shop alcove displays tidily organized shelves and cases with an assortment of wares.
There are 2 cushy magewood and indigo leather armchairs here. A prismatic glass table is here, a frosted glass diffuser atop it. A small tip jar of colorful stained glass hangs here above the bar, scattering chromatic light across the floor. Diantha is here, wreathed in lunar radiance. Sniffing at his surroundings, a rainbow-hued peryton stands here restlessly. A starry-winged, vulpine peryton paws the ground here, scattering moonlight with dainty hooves. Rihrin is leaning against a counter, eating a cookie. Aolin stands here behind the counter, sifting tea leaves. She wields a quicksilver lyre of the Imago in her left hand.

For a brief moment, you can only smell a rich, chocolatey and warmly sweet fragrance, the buttery
undertone completing the scent.

Though Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon sits at the counter, in the midst of listening to Aolin, she offers no answer. Two empty cups of tea sit beside her arm, and her eyes have begun to stray around the rest of the cafe. She takes in the perytons - another flare of recognition shows - and then to you during your entrance. Despite the lack of familiarity which registers, she studies you with a growing curiosity, her examination plain and unabashed.

Rihrin's eyes lift towards you and a brow arches, head cants to the side, and gradually he starts to look more and more bewildered.

Aolin offers you a smile from her spot behind the bar, motioning to the bakery case cheerfully. "Afternoon," she greets, reaching across the bar to snag the Fae's empty cups. Hopping off the built-in ledge, she scoots over to the wash basin and dumps them in with the others. "Thirsty?"

Rijetta stumbles into the room without a single care for what might be happening within - she goes where she pleases, and she pleases HERE, now. Her posture is upright, military proper, and she scans the room, single eye landing on Aolin, then Rihrin, then Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon. When she realizes she's being examined, though, she examines back, green eye narrowed. She turns her whole posture to square off with the woman, arms crossed over her chest and wings fluttering angrily against her back, though they've yet to expand to their full span. She says nothing, only stares.

p Diantha
This Fae woman has taken on a dark-skinned, humanoid shape, her black hair swept back into a messy ponytail. Dark eyes cut forth from deep-set sockets, overseeing a long, angled nose and thin lips. What bangs remain to trouble her view have been neatly pinned away, secured by a silver hairpin which bears the gemstone emblem of a dark purple butterfly. Just above, a simple circlet of silver
has been set, simple and royal in its geometric shape. A sleeveless silken robe girds her tall frame, which is lithely and impressively muscled, and scars run the full dimensions of her flesh, as though her powerful arms had been torn open and closed up again and again. Onyx-hued talons cap her hands and unshod feet, terminating in neat, triangular tips.

Rihrin's gaze slips to Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon and then back to you - the confusion in his features only growing. He lazily brings his cookie to his lips and chomps off a very deliberate bite, chewing it slowly, almost loud enough to be heard. He remains otherwise silent, though his eyes sometimes dart between the pair.

After a moment of indecision, Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon slips down from the counter, feet alighting upon the floor - it thrums from the faint noise of impact. She turns to face you more fully, broadening her stance with a casual sweep of her arm, and rests it upon the counter's edge. Her eyes are locked upward, right on the point of your brow where the broken remnants of antlers sit. It's a slow migration down, from there, to observe your missing eye. By her response, she seems torn between unspoken disgust and fascination. Her attention does not waver. Her gaze does not blink.

Rijetta stares for a little bit longer, then suddenly bursts into motion, a blur of excitement and energy and fatal grace. She closes distance, pointing rambunctiously at a pair of chained duskywing butterflies, then at Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon, specifically the pin in the woman's hair. "Butterfly pals!" she exclaims, an unstoppable force of inexhaustible energy. "Butterflies!"

p hairpin
Two duskywing butterflies have been cruelly attached to a dark chain that is meant to be woven into hair. The links themselves are as small as a grain of sand, creating a piece so fine is almost feels like silk to the touch. The butterflies are alive and stuck together to flit futilely in an attempt at a freedom they'll never know.

"...butterflies," Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon agrees, staring at you. Whatever she might have been thinking before, the observation prompts her grin. She points between first her own hairpin, and then to your own. In simple, halting common, she speaks, pointing a finger up toward the pin: "Aolin made this for I." Her brow furrows, and then she angles her fingertip across, indicating the butterflies which adorn your form everywhere. "Who made your butterflies?"

Rijetta preens proudly, sensing an absolute slam of a one-up. She draws herself up a little taller, brushing a few stray strands of hair past her ear, and declares proudly, "Esityi Herself," her lips splitting into a smug grin. "Where -else- would duskywings come from?"

"I don't know," Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon admits, with a sheepish but undaunted smile - the wrinkle that crosses her brow betrays some effort in understanding the answer given, and she reaches into the pocket of her robe, fidgeting with some trinket she finds there. In the growing silence, she turns her head back to Aolin, a hopeful expression upon her features.

Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon says something in phrases of gentle trills.

Aolin says something in phrases of gentle trills.

Rihrin nods his head at Aolin.

Rihrin says something in phrases of gentle trills.

Aolin glances to you and politely relays, "She's wondering what's happened to your horns."

Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon grimaces, visibly, at this particular translation, but nevertheless nods her agreement, gesturing gently to your brow.

Rijetta reaches up to touch them, almost neurotically, and answers, "Shedding. They needed help. They, uh... are taking their time coming back."

Aolin says something in phrases of gentle trills.

Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon's mouth opens to a slow, delicate 'oh' which remains unspoken. She traipses forward a hesitant step to stare at you more closely. Her eyes have wandered aside, now, to your immense wings, which she gazes upon with a quiet sort of awe. "Like Aolin," she whispers, "But... not like Aolin." She smiles across at you, emphasizing, with a grave nod: "Pretty."

Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon says something in phrases of gentle trills.

Rijetta unfolds her wings in a triumphant FLOOMF, her wingspan immense compared to her diminutive frame. She preens, nonetheless, fanning her wings out and stretching them as far as they'll go. "You think so?" she asks, not at all actually asking that question. "They're for Her," she explains, unhelpfully.

Rihrin finishes his cookie with a single more bite as he just idly stands at the counter, eventually shifting to cross his arms against his chest.

"Did they come from Her?" Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon asks, uncertainly lingering as she makes the careful inquiry. She stares from wingtip to wingtip, lost in wondering attention across the full of your wingspan. "Or did you made them?"

Rijetta ponders that, for a moment. "It's... hard to say." She frowns, a little bit, but mostly in thought. "I knew I needed to change. She provided the... spark. Maybe... both?"

"Like Aolin," Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon repeats with soft appreciation, "...but not like Aolin." One set of fingertips strays up to align her circlet upon her brow. "But for Her?" She cants her head to one side- "Or for you?"

Rijetta smiles, at that. "What's the difference?"

Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon says to you, "Your wings... are for Her."

Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon turns to Aolin, her voice venturing uncertainly.

Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon asks Aolin, "Your wings... are for you?"

Aolin considers that. "When shaping me, it was suggested by Her and agreed upon by Me. It is a form that pleases Her, and so is for Her in a way. But it is also for me. As she said, though.. what's the difference, really?" she smiles.

Rijetta nods. "I am for Her - so everything - ah, I..." She stumbles over her words, then tries carefully. First, she gestures to herself - "Tolya du," halting, "Veyej..." Then more confidently, "Abi aran."

Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon's breath catches in her throat. Recognition shows at the words; recognition that surprises her. "Aran wo de," she answers, in a soft, flowing voice, "Ye... veyej wo de, mil." Understanding glows in her eyes, and she smiles up at you with a slow bow of her head.

Aolin watches the exchange without any recognition or understanding of the words, glancing over to Rihrin quizzically.

Rihrin notices Aolin's gaze from the corner of his eye and immediately rolls his shoulders in a shrug. Completely unhelpful.

Rijetta blinks, and she has that look on her face that only someone who owns exactly one translation book can have when a native speaker suddenly says a full sentence to them. Like a rabbit in the path of a fox, she pauses, working through the sentence slowly, before comprehension flashes on her face. She reaches for Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon's hands, to take them gently in her own, a genuine smile on here face. "Mef vonir, wo de."

Rijetta thinks: Hope I didn't just say something insulting.

" de," Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon agrees with a soft breath, sheer delight showing upon her expression as she accepts your hands, coiling her own fingers about your in turn. Her clasp is a comfortable, powerful thing, chin tipping back to fix right on your face. "Mef vonir... nid de, nid ti-" her head nods askance to Aolin, only for just a moment, before she looks back to you. "Aye ye de fevo nu esafdi de," she declares at last, nearly bouncing upon her tiptoes.

Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon says something in phrases of gentle trills.

Rihrin's eyes flash with understanding and he nod once, "It sounded like the tongue, but I was not positive. I really should brush up on it."

At Rihrin's unhelpful look, Aolin shrugs and turns away to begin polishing the taps of the kegs with a rag snagged from behind the bars, humming cheerfully to herself as the strange language washes over her in the background.

Rijetta takes a moment again, narrowing her eye as she listens, but the sentiment comes across. Is she... blushing...? As she returns her hands to her sides, her wings slowly folding down against her back. She seems almost sheepish, now, and she wrings her hands together before saying, "Well, I didn't mean to interrupt. Err.. have a good day." She affects a curtsey, addressing Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon, "Betri nu esafdi de."

"I think you are fine." Rihrin comments towards you, seeming to figure out this is his opportunity. He casts a glance towards Aolin, a wink coming, and then he quickly - probably a little too quickly so he almost trips on his feet - makes his way out the door. There is a brief wave over his shoulder before he's out completely.

"Esafdi," Diantha, Princess of the Dreaming Moon agrees simply as she steps away with a last, exuberant bounce, her powerful arms swinging at her sides. She bows to you, beaming as she declares in turn: "Sosvire!" with a last, cheery wave - glancing after Rihrin in faint surprise as he, too, departs.

Thanks, @Aolin , @Rihrin , @pools
A low, sultry voice resounds within the depths of your mind, "I look forward to seeing your descent."
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