Closed Livid.

[Quiarinox]

Winter 10 512 AV It was the first break of the evening and quiet, finally. The Basilica had been all hut abandoned as citizens went out and did things with friends that Quiarinox didn't do herself, for lack of the same. She did not particularly revel in the lack of people, but she did enjoy it somewhat. It was easy to forget there were people just beyond the walls when it was silent, easy to get lost in her thoughts, to wish there were people to enjoy the moment with her. Meriken would have liked this place, this lack of noise. He would find something to make the loneliness worthwhile, make up some story maybe, or just bury away the moment with affection. But he wasn't here, and thinking about him brought a faint ache to her chest that she told herself didn't have anything to do with him. The tall Ethaefal, as she found herself being referred to as when people forgot the name she gave herself, strode around the Basilica aimlessly, keeping to the painting section among the number of other types of arts present. She walked along a line of easels, appraising themed art with a careful eye, trying to see what made some people's so much more appealing than other's. There wasnt much different between most of them, she decided after circling the line of easels several times. One of them was painted by what she assumed was a master, but the rest were fairly crude and strange looking, almost abstract. One looked particularly horrible, like the artist just threw five buckets of paint onto their canvas and gave a brush a halfhearted sweep through the sea of paint in an attempt to salvage what they were trying to do. She wouldn't blame them for just giving up. Carefully, she placed her hands on the extreme edge of the canvas and focused on it. She imagined a wave of divine energy flowing from the base of her neck and down her arms to the painting, visualising the gift of Rhysol as a dark strand of string tangling in a knot on the canvas and nesting her curse. "You are uglier on the inside than this painting is on the outside," she muttered softly before releasing the painting and continuing on, making her way to the next row of easels. If somebody entered, she wouldn't have immediately noticed, given that she was too intent on looking at things. However, every so often she did look up to see if anyone were returning, thus symbolizing the break ending. OOCWow, another not so good opening from me. XD I hope this works, Jo. Let me know if you wanted something different.

[Johanne]

The nights in Lhavit were bewildering, even after two years in the place. While Denval had settled down in exhausted heaps to sleep away the darkness, Lhavit seemed to revel in it: the buildings even shone in joy, breaking up the shadows of the night. It was beautiful, to be sure, the way the crystal gleamed and the inhabitants chattered gaily, but it sometimes made the quieter Johanne wish for home: if she could call Denval that. But she sure as hell could not call Lhavit home, either.

She wandered through the streets, her lanky frame wrapped tightly in a cloak and a brown woollen scarf to keep away the cold, keep it from infiltrating her sticking joints and her fragile skeleton. The nights were too bright to sit restlessly in her apartment. But the skies were too cold to stand beneath the stars. Ducking into the Basilica on the Tenten Peak, in the shadow of the Dawn Tower, she seemed to have found a perfect medium. Away from the noise of the Surya Plaza beneath her apartment, and yet away from the unblinking, all-seeing stars of the sky. Johanne sighed, closing the thick doors behind her, unwrapping the woollen scarf from her neck.

For one of the greatest galleries in Mizahar, the Basilka was all but abandoned on this cold Winter's night. Perhaps the people of Lhavit were not so interested in the unmoving, unchanging works of the struggling artists tonight, but rather in the ever-moving celestial bodies that many of the Ethaefal called home. An Ethaefal such as those who wandered through the city, wandered past artworks, paintings of varying quality, looking closely and -- and pressing her hands against them? Far taller than the lanky Johanne herself, the Ethaefal with bonewhite hair and onyx horns peered closely at the artworks, and Johanne could not help but utter a stuttered cry.

"Ex-excuse me!" Her voice escaped itself, and Johanne cursed silently when the Ethaefal would inevitably turn. Wishing she could shrink into herself, so afraid of the scrutiny of others, she began to pick at a healing scar just beneath her long-sleeves, setting the blood of the artwork flowing again. "It's just that... I'm sure the artist put a lot of effort into that work... I don't think you should be touching it."

An artist herself, though one of the flesh, Johanne could not stand to see such works defiled: even if they were less than quality, as the one the Ethaefal stood before was...

OOCNonsense. It was a lovely beginning. I'm just sorry my writing is sort of terrible at the moment.

[Quiarinox]

Quiarinox stiffened at the sharp voice that shattered the silence, her eyes narrowing just a bit before she turned slowly to face the girl, that shy, demure figure that had stuttered so endearingly it actually disgusted her, and then she smiled. "How can I appreciate something without experiencing it fully?" She asked, coming closer to her slowly like she was approaching a scared animal in a corner, winding her way gracefully around abandoned easels. "Maybe you should come and look as well and admire what others have created with their talents?" She watched the woman through cruel, judging eyes over her welcoming, inviting smile, unable to see her as much more than one of those withered flowers suffering in the winter chill: frozen, alone, and absent the beauty it might have possessed under other circumstances. And, while normally she wouldn't so brazenly approach a strange human woman, they were alone and she was feeling particularly adventurous. Once halted, the Ethaefal moved into a smooth bow, tilting her horned head to the woman in reverence she truly felt the little human woman was undeserving of. However, the niceties must be observed. "Come down and look at them with me, will you? They are much more beautiful up close." The Ethaefal gestured, extending her long hand in an offer to the woman.

[Johanne]

Johanne swallowed, thickly. Ever slowly the blood dripped down fron her wrist to her palm, collecting in the crevices there that fortune tellers would have her believe meant slowly. With each trickle of blood, the Ethaefal strode forward, everything about her as stark as the night outside, without the blessing of twinkling stars. She stood her ground, but it was if she were a frightened deer, and the woman in front of her, a tiger. Everything in her wanted to run: but that would be foolish, would it not?

"I was looking at them... I just don't think," here she took a deep breath, unprepared for this interruption and altercation, "that you should touch the artworks. The artist might not be too happy with that. That's all." Her tone was apologetic, as if she were the lesser of the Ethaefal before her. She supposed in Lhavit, she was. The Ethaefal was beautiful, celestial, of the divine realm. Johanne was just a girl who thought her scars could pass for art.

In the tense silence between them that was as deafening as shouting, the Ethaefal bowed, stiffly, her long crystalline horns sweeping towards Johanne almost menacingly. It was strange that a custom of civility could be turned into such a mocking and threatening gesture, Johanne thought distantly, as she mechanically gave the Ethaefal a bow. Her voice was as ensnaring as a snake's.

"No, I'm okay, really..." But the long hand was insistant, and so too were the Ethaefal's eyes. It was all she could do but move forward slowly, stiffly, into reach of the woman's hands. Her words said no but her body screamed like a lamb. "Okay, then. For a little."

But they both knew Johanne would only leave when the Ethaefal let her out of the trap.

[Brandon Blackwing]

JOHANNE

XP Award:

• Socialization +2
• Observation +1

Lore:

Notes:
Not much to award here, but I guess this could have become quite interesting. A pity.
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credit goes to Adelaide Sitai