"Down the hall and on the right." Naughy absentmindedly responds to the boy's request. Leaning forward she stares the councilman in the eyes. "You're not in a position to lie, nor to insult Kendra or Petros. Now let's try this again." she growls out.
At the scary half-fiend's reply, the boy blanches slightly, then nods & scurries off, following her directions.
Hearthmount screams in pain as Sariana wrenches his neck. "Gah! Torture me if you will, but I'll never talk. You have no idea whom you are dealing with. They have taken over this town and soon they will release the dead from Harrowstone. Death or worse awaits you if you continue to persist. Leave this house. Leave Ravengro - while you still can."
Ysmerelda may enter at any time.
Hearthmount screams in pain as Sariana wrenches his neck. "Gah! Torture me if you will, but I'll never talk. You have no idea whom you are dealing with. They have taken over this town and soon they will release the dead from Harrowstone. Death or worse awaits you if you continue to persist. Leave this house. Leave Ravengro - while you still can."
Govannon's mouth opens to speak, but he gains a little wisdom and says nothing though he looks quite perplexed.
What the hell is going on here? The dead run Ravengro? That's not good...
He decides to wait and see what the newcomers have to say to the man, for clearly they know much about what's going on here - and my even know why he and Sariana were imprisoned here a while.
"Need any help Sariana? It looks like you've got him pretty tight."
"Perhaps a different tack is in order." A sepulchral, feminine voice calls forth from deeper within the house.
Stepping forward, a ghastly, ghostly figure come in to view.
Trepidatiously, the boy follows.
As the interrogation progresses, the Varisian woman seems to look around at everyone with some bewilderment. Slowly, clarity comes over her expression, and she steps forward.
"We can put him in one of the jail cells," she speaks in the common tongue, at last. "Sheriff Caeller isn't around anymore to do that for us..." Her eyes stare off into the distance and grow watery for a moment.
Looking back at the mayor now, she approaches him and kneels down onto one knee, directly facing him. Sternly, she speaks to him. "We found you about to hang these three people. Including a little boy, no less. I'm willing to bet you have no evidence of anything against them. Just like you had no evidence when you ordered those priests killed by hanging. Strangers aren't getting people killed, Heathmount. Your fear is getting people killed. Now, tell us..."
Aliseya pauses mid-sentence as she feels a chill vibe in the air... the feeling she gets when the dead walk among the living. But this presence... it is... familiar. And then, that voice... fearful, yet familiar somehow. Mouth agape, she turns to see...
With shocked and wide-opened eyes that seek to discern who or what is before her, she barely gets out one word.
"Ysme?!"
Snarling down at the politician, Naught's expression completely changes and she issues the same utterance at the same time as the dancer. "Ysme?!"
Forgetting what they had been doing the Storyteller runs up to try and hug her departed comrade.
The apparition's smile would be melancholic were she still alive. In this, other state, it approaches macabre. "I fear so, my friends. But that is a conversation for another time."
Striding resolutely toward the body-bound Councilman, she raises an effulgent hand to gently stroke his cheek. "You claim to fear the influence of the unquiet dead, Councilman. Stand you now in the of that which you fear. Do you persist in this folly you have pursued these last few day & nights, perhaps longer still, you will find my cheery nature sorely tested. You will not find this experience...
fulfilling."
Govannon draws his blade again as the apparition steps into the room. Watching the others though, he does not attack with blade or spell, but does step back when she approaches their prisoner.
What the hell? he wonders, not for the first time.
He begins to panic in earnest and wonders if he was slipped something while unconscious...
"I'd listen to the angry lady." Naught says while hugging said angry lady.
Hearthmount claws and scrapes at the floor in an attempt to back away from Ysmerelda. "No, it can't be! May the Tyrant blast your soul. The ghosts aren't supposed to be released until tomorrow. Back away spirit, I am with Auren Vrood! I command you to slay these fools in the name of our Dark Lord in Gallowspire!"
Vordish sobs hysterically at Zelda, "We are doomed! Cultists have infiltrated our leadership! The dead walk among us! May Pharasma have mercy on our souls!"
Clearly appalled by the Councillors words, the boy's brows furrow in concern.
'Wait. He thinks you are one of You might be able to use that...'
Features hardening with the speed of a Cold Snap's frost, Ysmerelda's caress becomes instead a vice-like snare about Hearthmount's throat. "You mistake yourself worm. do not command !"
You believe that Auren Vrood is a prominent member of the Whispering Way. You know that the Whispering Way is a death cult devoted to freeing the Whispering Tyrant - the imprisoned undead warlord whom ravished Ustalav centuries ago.
As comprehension dawns, the boy's face blanches to an almost deathly pallor.
'Oh, that's not good at all...
Don't let him get away. How well are your friends here going to take to me, d'you think?'
'Oh well, only one way to find out f'certain I s'pose...'
Turning now to Aliseya & Zelda, his forehead again furrows with concentration as he seems to murmur sumthing underhis breath.
"Oh, you know how it is...
I'm sure once they get to know you they will find you as adorable as I do.'
"Kendra Lorrimor isn't here. You will explain this." With each word, the apparition's grip about Hearthmount's throat closes infinitesimally.
Aliseya takes a back seat as the scene unfolds. Slowly, it fully dawns on her that Hearthmount is clearly in league with the darker powers. In spite of all that's happened in the past few days, she silently contemplates how trusting she was, that Hearthmount was just a bumbling fool of a mayor in a small town of simple folk... that people are basically good at heart, even if they do foolish or even harmful things.
Her guilt trip upon him, she now realizes, was in vain. This man feels no remorse. Perhaps he is incapable of it.
But he is clearly capable of fear. As Ysme... or, what remains of her tragic, and now rather terrifying, friend... proceeds to cause Hearthmount to piss his pants, Aliseya's eyes grow cold and narrow towards Hearthmount.
She's always been a trusting soul. Maybe I'm, like... too trusting.
From deep within the recesses of her mind, a haggard voice answers her. Yesss, dearie. You are indeed...
|
Sariana's eyes narrow as Hearthmount lets slip that the dead are to rise tomorrow. I hate undead, abominations every one! It's like Him all over again! Almost without her conscious thought her grip is tightening, tearing Hearthmount's arm viciously.
Although Auren Vrood means nothing to her, the Dark Lord of the Gallowspire is easy to identify and extremely worrying because of it. Speaking through clenched teeth she hisses "He has told us what we need to know! Why waste time with this filth? We end him and be done with it!"
Even through her anger she notes the reactions of her new comrades to the apparition. Such phantoms were relatively common amongst the Order but these people clearly had a relationship with the original, rather than the phantom. Curious the only impartial part of her mind notes, there is clearly some kind of greater force involved here...
Govannan keeps his distance from this Ysmerelda figure, though the fear slowly fades from his face.
He's a little surprised at the venom Sariana shows for their captor. We were about to be hung after all. he thinks and lets it slide.
Seeing that none of the newcomers seem to wish him any harm, he sheathes his blade again and watches intently. You're in over your depths here son, just watch and learn. Don't speak, you'll sound like a fool.
He stands to the side, giving the others a wide berth, and he lets them interrogate their prisoners.
When they're done with their investigation, maybe I can get some answers.
Satisfied with his plan, he waits.
...after just a moment or two, he starts to fidget. Before long, he's got his tobacco out and he's rolling a horribly uneven smoke, but he barely notices, stuffing it in his mouth and lighting it with a tinder twig.
"Calm down Bitey, we need to find out where Kendra is." She says calmly towards the attractive if feral, possibly more so than herself, woman. That drops however once she hears the quick snap of the tinder twig being lit and instantly turns on her heels towards the source. "You! No smoking in the house."
"You! No smoking in the house."
Govannon jumps a little in surprise, and drops his lit match. Stomping on it with his foot he quickly puts it out and slides his smoke to the other side of his mouth.
"Sure." he mumbles.
As the match hits the floor and promptly gets smeared under the man's foot Naught stoically lowers her face into the palm of her hand.
Hearthmount's eyes grow wide as Ysmerelda and Sariana both tighten their grip. His breathing is labored as he struggles to gasp through the choke hold. "You fools ... know that I personally ... beat Kendra unconscious ... and sent her to Harrowstone ... to be sacrificed to the ... splatter man. She will ... unleash Ravengro's .... doom!"
He then bares his teeth and smiles wickedly at you.
Vordish continues to sob, "Benjan Caeller is one of them. He plans some sort of ritual tomorrow at midnight. You must stop them!"
|
Zelda looks at Hearthmount in discussed .
"I have heard enough from this fool! What shall we do with it?
We need to rest but then we must end this tomorrow and save Kendra!"
Sadly she looks at Ysmerelda.
"I am so sorry I could not save you! You are even denied the rest to have earned! Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you!" looking closely you can see a tear falling down her face.
A pensive look upon her face, Aliseya reveals, "I remember reading about Auren Vrood. He's, like, a big deal in the Whispering Way cult. They want to bring about the return of the Whispering Tyrant, their undead lord."
Fear grips Aliseya's heart on learning of the plan for Kendra. But she shows no fear in the presence of Hearthmount. Indeed... her red and hazel eyes both shift focus... a more confident, yet dark presence now inhabits her being. Her eyes still cold and narrowed, they grow more sinister and intensely rageful. Recalling that not everyone has been themselves of late, the dark gypsy speaks to Hearthmount in a grating, cronish speech more befitting an evil witch than a young gypsy. Her cruel whispers bound about the walls of the room, penetrating every fiber of the living with sheer dread as wholey intense eyes meet Hearthmount's... eyes that seem to burn a hole right through his as that wicked speech utters forth...
At Zelda's display of concern, Ysmerelda's visage softens. "Another time, my friend. At present, we have other, more immediate concerns."
'Well?'
'Don't look at me...
are the one who knows them. Petros would never forgive me if I didn't do everything reasonable to save his only child, but success is going to depend upon of us.'
The boy's gaze lites upon each of those present. "One brush stroke at a time."
Hearthmount snarls as Aliseya commands him in Aklo and then lunges violently to the side in an attempt to break Sariana's grapple. The Damphir's chokehold is momentarily broken and both she and the councilman roll to the side, exchanging punches, before Sariana regains her grapple. Hearthmount then viciously bites down on Sariana's arm and spits the blood back at her. "Bow down to your master in Gallowspire, vampire spawn!"
Cellawyn steps forward and slams her steel tipped boot into Hearthmount’s head – knocking the man unconscious with a heavy thud. ”I’ve heard enough of his ravings. It appears that the town’s leadership has been compromised by the Whispering Way. ”
Cellawyn then pauses to pull Sariana to her feet.
”As an officer in the Ustalavic army, with the people in this room as witnesses, I charge Hearthmount with treason and I command that he be removed from power and restrained in the town jail until a proper trial can be convened. I will now take control of Ravengro until army reinforcements can arrive from Caliphas.”
She turns to Aliseya, Naught and Zelda, ”My dear friends, the time has come for us to part ways. I must focus on saving Ravengro’s citizens and organizing the town’s remaining defenses. I will need you to return to Harrowstone to rescue Kendra, stop the cultists, and cleanse the prison of undead. You must destroy the remaining ghosts if you are to save the town. The fate of Ravengro hangs in the balance!”
She then turns to the phantom hovering over Hearthmount. ”Ysmerelda, as you were a soldier in life, so again you will be a soldier in death. The Gods have brought you to this boy for a reason. The boy, the magus and the ghost rider are now part of the pattern that links us together in a greater cause. A cause, I fear, that transcends Ravengro, and possibly the nation of Ustalav.”
Finally, Cellawyn turns to Sariana, Grey and Govannon, ”Welcome, my new friends. I am Lt. Cellawyn Cayentelva. I look forward to the day where I may fight at your side, but for now, I ask that you put aside your current endeavors and join my friends as they attempt to save Ravengro in its hour of need. I will allow my friends to introduce themselves.”
Cellawyn then begins binding up Hearthmount and Vordish. ”I will take care of these two. I recommend that you all rest here tonight and prepare for the challenges ahead of you tomorrow. God speed my friends!”
She then kicks Vordish to his feet and commands him to drag Hearthmount behind her. Cellawyn draws her rapier and then smiles at you one last time as she disappears into the night with her prisoners.
Finally, Cellawyn turns to Sariana, Grey and Govannon, ”Welcome, my new friends. I am Lt. Cellawyn Cayentelva. I look forward to the day where I may fight at your side, but for now, I ask that you put aside your current endeavors and join my friends as they attempt to save Ravengro in its hour of need. I will allow my friends to introduce themselves.”
"Save Ravengro huh? Hour of need." Govannon chews on his cigarette a little, looks at Naught, and clearly wants to light it - but does not.
"Look, my task here is two fold, but neither is very pressing as they involve a dead man. So it can keep. That said, I'm not sure how much help I can truly be against a ghost. I mean really - the undead?!"
He shakes his head, "But I suppose I'll do what I can with the talents I have." he goes to spit, but eyes Naught again, and decides against it.
He turns to the others and holds out his hand, "My name is Govannon Gittins, and my scimitar is yours, for now. I don't fully understand what's going on here, but this is wrong." he toes the prisoner as he's being hauled off.
Govannon Gittins is a bit rough. He’s a little unshaven, his hair is sometimes unkempt, and there’s dirt under his fingernails - one of which is chipped far down into the finger. He wears a comfortable chain shirt, showing it’s age and wear, along with a scimitar and morning star at his belt. A sling bag over his shoulder and back contain his other worldly possessions, which are few but bulky.
His fingers seem to have a life of their own, and seem to be always doing something. Either he’s whittling some random scrimshawed object with his knife (well not yet - he's not comfortable), or he’s rolling, badly, a cigarette. Though he does it with some frequency, he seems to not have any skill at fashioning his smokes, often fumbling tobacco to the floor or table, and ending up with lopsided results with strange bulges. Still, he chomps on the tobacco as much as he smokes it and he often has a misshapen cigarette sticking out of his mouth - lit or not.
|
|
Covered in blood and with a thoroughly broken nose Sariana certainly fits the insult Hearthmount spat at her. Her fangs are fully extended and she watches the unconscious prisoner being dragged out of the room with the expression of a drunk watching a cask of ale roll away. Shaking herself out of her fascination she reaches up and matter-of-fact-ly twists her nose back into place with a jarring scraping sound which makes hairs stand on end throughout the room.
"Ouch." is all she says until Govannon has finished introducing himself. Once he has finished she speaks, and this time sounds considerably more refined than she has done up until this point. Her fangs have disappeared and her sleeve has taken the worst of the blood.
"I am Sariana. I was sent by the Order of the Palatine Eye to transport Professor Lorrimor's belongings to Lepidstadt. This takes priority though. The order stands against the Whispering Way and I will too. I am sorry about the circumstances, I like to make a better appearance when I meet people for the first time. Now..." She pauses and looks around the room enquiringly. "Has anyone seen my hammer?"
The exceedingly lovely young adult woman is dressed as a Varisian gypsy. Flowing and somewhat revealing shades of red and green adorn her curvaceous figure of just under five and a half feet, though at present she, the blonde swordswoman, and the axe-bearing wild woman all appear to have walked through a filthy body of water not long ago. An assortment of bracelets, anklets, and jewels of pearl, silver, and red carnelian lightly jingle with her limber body's movements. Simple sandals appear to be her footwear of choice.
The young woman hauls a large leather satchel over her shoulder, and holds an oaken walking staff in one hand.
As if on cue with Sariana's apology for not making a better first impression, the gypsy woman's own first impression, she wonders for a moment, must have been a sight to behold. Multichromatic eyes shift back again from cruel intensity towards Hearthmount to childlike bemusement as her gaze scans around the new and not so new people in the room. And they continue to shift again, now soulfully beckoning, seemingly able to see into your very soul.
Unfortunately, she also appears exceedingly weary, as if bearing the heaviest of existential burdens. She slumps with dreary eyes now, and turns to the nearby axe-bearer.
"Losing myself... can't bear it... any longer..." she says as her body twists and slumps forward, passing out.
Quietly Naught shakes Gov's hands as he and the lady start to introduce themselves. "Ali!" she lets out once the dancer starts to stumble forward, catching her before her face becomes real friendly with the floor she merely says to the others "Name's Naught. Nice to meet y'all." as she scoops the other woman up and carries her off to her bed for some much needed rest.
Short, the well muscled woman in raggedy clothing's most distinctive features, unlike Aliseya, is above the neck. Instead of hair her head is adorned with tendrils that loll about lazily on their own, with her ears appearing to be stretched out bat wings and her eyes are gold shrouded by black. Her teeth, as Govannon notes, appear to be very sharp as well.
Sighing almost... resignedly, the boy straightens to his full though still inconsiderable height. "I'll answer to Grey. I knew Petros of old. If you haven't already guessed, I'm older than I look." At the last, his smile turns wry.
Nodding in acknowledgment of the departing officer's words, he adds, "If what yon quisling said is even half truth, when we move, 'twill needs be with all haste & you three look fit to be salted & smoked. Rest now, there will be time for answers on the way to Harrowstone in the morn." With that, he begins putting the Lorrimor household back to rights with the familiarity of one long accustomed.
"Very well met indeed. Now I do have one question, if you'll indulge me. Who, er, or what, is
Ysmerelda? I don't mean to be rude, but, well, she looked quite dead to me. A wraith or ghost."
"Again, no offense, just a little confused is all."
He picks up a knocked over chair, and generally helps Grey as he waits for an answer.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Yes."
Shaking his head slightly at his 'companion's' supposed wit, Grey nevertheless contains a slight smirk. Immediately smoothing his features to composure, he replies. "That would be one of the 'answers' there will be time for on the way. Unfortunately, if you aren't already sufficiently acquainted with esoteric phenomena to suspect what she is, the time it will take to explain is time better spent resting at the moment."
The group tends their wounds and then collapses with exhaustion into Kendra's guest beds. The night passes without incident.
You are woken the next day by the pale light of the late autumn sun rising over a cloud shrouded morning. You note that the ground is still covered by snow and the sky appears to be threatening. Unlike your previous stays at Kendra's home, no smells of coffee and breakfast await you this morning.
During the night you dream of a lone figure standing silhouetted against the ancient walls of a forlorn castle. The man speaks as he gazes over the balcony rail at the mist covered lands below.
”I am the ancient. I am the land. My beginnings are lost in the darkness of the past. I was the warrior. I was good and just. I thundered across the land like the wrath of a just god, but the war years and the killing years wore down my soul, as the wind wears stone into sand.”
”All goodness slipped from my life; I found my youth and strength gone and all I had left was death. My army settled in this valley and took power over the people in the name of a just god, but with none of a god’s grace or justice.”
”I called for my family, long unseated from their ancient ancestral thrones, and brought them here to settle in Gallowspire. They came with a younger brother of mine, Sergei. He was handsome and youthful. I hated him for both.”
”From the families of this valley, one spirit shone above all others. She was a rare beauty who embodied grace, intelligence and ambition. Her name was Tatyana and I longed for her to be mine.”
”I loved her with all my heart. I loved her for her youth. I loved her for her joy. But she spurned me! Old One was my name to her – ‘elder’ and ‘brother’ also. Her heart went to Sergei. They were betrothed. The date was set.”
”With words she called me brother, but when I looked into her eyes they reflected another name - death. It was the death of the aged that she saw in me. She loved her youth and enjoyed it. But I had squandered mine.”
”The death she saw in me turned her from me. And so I came to hate death, my death. My hate is very strong. I would not be called death so soon. I made a pact with death, a pact of blood. On the day of the wedding I killed Sergei, my brother. My pact was sealed with his blood.”
”I found Tatyana weeping in the garden east of the chapel. She fled from me. She would not let me explain, and a great anger swelled within me. She had to understand the pact I made for her. I pursued her. Finally, in despair, she flung herself from the walls of Gallowspire and I watched everything I ever wanted fall from my grasp forever.”
”It was a thousand feet through the mists. No trace of her was ever found. Not even I know her final fate.”
”Arrows from the castle guards pierced me to my soul, but I did not die. Nor did I live. I became undead, forever.”
”I have often hunted for Tatyana. I have even felt her within my grasp, but she escapes. She taunts me! She taunts me! What will it take to bend her love to me?”
”So did I research my books for a way to acquire another name. My dark magics and sorceries were practiced through nights long and weary. Yet did I persist in the quest for regaining the name of redemption which I had long lost.”
”In the flash of the lightning bolt did my quest come to an end. Through a portal of power and magic I saw that which I had never suspected to exist. There before me stood the mirror of myself! Here was life! My life ... where it had been hidden from me by the wrath of the gods. I would take it back . . . I stepped through the portal.”
”Now will my quest be complete. Now will I regain that which was denied me!”
You wake with a shudder - covered in sweat and trembling.
With a sudden intake of air, a wide-eyed Aliseya shudders up into a seated position in her bed. Trembling fearfully, her body broken out in a cold sweat, beads of sweat drip from her forehead as she turns, looking all around the bedroom... as if expecting someone other than Naught to be there in their shared guest room with two beds.
|
|
Sariana spent the night outside, curled up under a bush in the garden. Without going right up to her no-one would have seen the great black wolf wrapped around her own much smaller frame.
Up early due to the cold, she busies herself making food in the kitchen - resulting in a lot more clattering and far fewer pleasant smells than when Kendra did it. Anyone entering finds much of Grey's hard work undone and a somewhat embarrassed Sariana covered in flour. "Err... can anyone here cook?"
Shaking his head slightly at his 'companion's' supposed wit, Grey nevertheless contains a slight smirk. Immediately smoothing his features to composure, he replies. "That would be one of the 'answers' there will be time for on the way. Unfortunately, if you aren't already sufficiently acquainted with esoteric phenomena to suspect what she is, the time it will take to explain is time better spent resting at the moment."
Govannon shrugs, Not the first time I've been told I'm not smart enough. he thinks to himself. But he lets it go and tries to settle in for the night.
His sleep however is disturbed with uneasy dreams and he wakes early seeking coffee or at least tea, something.
He bumps into Sariana in the kitchen.
Anyone entering finds much of Grey's hard work undone and a somewhat embarrassed Sariana covered in flour. "Err... can anyone here cook?"
"No, sorry, Margaret always cooked for me at home, and I've only barely managed to feed myself on the road. Happy to help, but you're better off getting someone else to lead the effort."
He does what he can in the kitchen, but beats a hasty retreat if someone shows up with confidence. Mostly he just drinks and steps outside for a smoke as he sips his hot liquid. He stretches a little and thinks about his options. Before long, he heads back inside hoping the others are up and he can glean some answers about what's going on.
Once Alie springs to in the morning Naught is instantly up by her side, her hand instinctively going for the axe she drags dropped by her own side last night. "Whaz-huh? Is everything okay Ali?"
Aliseya's fear begins to quell as she realizes it was just a bad dream. Or was it...
"I... I think so," she answers her friend. "I was in a creepy castle with, like, some weirdo intense creep. He kept going on and on about some sad but creepy love story. He thought he could make her love him, even though, like... she died?" Shuddering once more, "Friggin creeps IN my dream now, too. Like I didn't have enough creeps in real life, trying to stick rahat in me and all." She rubs her upper thigh as she speaks that last sentence, a throbbing reminder of the night the necromancer assaulted her.
Taking in a deep breath, Aliseya sits up more properly in her bed, folding her legs in Vudrani style. She does a few more relaxing and slow breaths, calming down. With a final and sharper exhale of relief, Aliseya opens her eyes and shakes her head, smirking from her own sarcasm. "Whew. What a friggin cool town we found, eh?"
Aliseya places a calm hand on Naught's shoulder. Smiling, "Thanks."
Looking down at her sweaty self and her dirty outfit still on her from their trek through the muck of Harrowstone yesterday, she then wryly remarks, "I. Need. A BATH. Like, yesterday." The gypsy, more herself now, swiftly gets up out of bed and begins preparing for her bath: after making her bed she gathers a new set of clothes, some bath salts and candles, gathers the water from the well outside and heads right to the bathing room, trying to avoid any early birds for now until she's more presentable.
Half an hour later, a refreshed Aliseya exits the bathing room. Adorned in a dark red blouse of a silk-like material with matching harem pants, a black sash of wool snugs around her waist providing some more practical warmth to her attire. Though less revealing than her previous outfit, an inch or two of her belly sensually peeks out above the black sash and below the cut of her dark red blouse. From the rear, the upper half of a butterfly tattoo is visible on her lower back. Nails are colored dark red on both fingertips and toes. Barefoot, her cleaned silver jewelry and her red and green gemstones jingle more lightly this morning. A black doo rag neatly arranges her frizzy straight hair down her back and onto her shoulders. The gypsy's eyeshadow is a shade or two darker than usual, bringing perhaps more exotic attention to her stunning eyes. She is bouncier, more like herself, like the person her friends Zelda and Naught have come to know a few days ago after Professor Lorrimor's funeral.
She enters the kitchen to find Sarianna coated in white flour, Govannon with one foot metaphorically out of the kitchen trying his best to meagerly help, and Zelda looking on at them both rather quizzically. A sweet perfume scent emanates from the beautiful gypsy after she enters. Not at all overpowering, but definitely on the alluring side.
On making eye contact with the newcomers, her smile momentarily turns pensive, as if slightly embarrassed. "Um. Hi... sorry about yesterday. I haven't been, quite myself." Smiling again, "But I feel a little better now."
Smiling at Sariana's floury self, "I'm Aliseya. But you can call me Ali." Turning to the boy, she bends to shake his hand, "Hey cutie. Nice to meet you, too."
But when she approaches Govannon, Aliseya's eyes seem to open more brightly. With a stronger hint of sultry in her voice, she extends her hand to the man. "Hi there."
But when she approaches Govannon, Aliseya's eyes seem to open more brightly. With a stronger hint of sultry in her voice, she extends her hand to the man. "Hi there."
"Uh, yeah, hey there." Govannon takes her hand and shakes it vigorously, a little jumpy from the caffeine so recently ingested, and the allure of a pretty woman.
"Did you sleep well? You look refreshed. We're struggling a little here in the kitchen this morning as you can see, but we'll manage something here in a little while. There's coffee at least." he grins, hoping for the best.