Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA

[faithlikeaseed]

Who: fauns fauns FAUNS (and their enablers) (and anyone else)
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!


It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are a horrible beautiful Faun.

Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.

Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.

Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.

Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.

There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?

Comments

[wylderrant]

Well, yes. I did have to practice at it... although it came rather naturally to me, I like to think.

[ She blinks as Mikasa suddenly she approaches and her playing stops. She tentatively offers her the harp. ]

Would you like to try?

[stopfen]

[Eh?? No, she doesn't take the harp or even answer. But she did pluck a singular string then back up again to listen. Her head lifting back to look at the faun as the sound faded.]

...Even when I'm good at it, it sounds better when someone else plays.

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat laughs at her reaction and draws the harp back against her and begins to play again, plucking at the strings. ]

Never fear, then. I can handle the playing and you can handle the listening. I enjoy having an audience.

[ She hums along with herself for a moment. ]

What's your name, dear heart?

[stopfen]

Deer heart? [Okay that's getting another blink. All the action of the full moons, the new changes, the party. It may have been beginning to sink in, leaving her a little bit foggy.

That was a strange thing to call her? With all the fauns and deer like people around though... maybe it was normal. She was just going to sit her ass down again, wings splaying slightly. They were just a little too long to lie flat down her back and sit when something could get in the way.]

Mikasa... Who are you? I've not seen you before. [Not that she had seen many faun. The few she'd met had disappeared. ]

[wylderrant]

A term of endearment. [ Iramaat laughs, still playing. The full moon has her feel a little foggy as well, although perhaps in a very different way. ]

Iramaat, at your service. Charmed, Mikasa - may I add your wings are looking lovely this evening?

[stopfen]

[That really was a new one. One she was unsure of where it ranked in levels of endearment. Fortunately or unfortunately. Mettaton had dulled her will to question it too much, some people just called people pet names. So she accepted it, without question.

But then 'services'...]

Oh... You're a musician? [Which meant she was someone who played music for money. There's an awkward silent pause as the fae pounders that thought for a moment. Then bluntly.] I don't have any money.

[The comment on her wings is ignored for the time being, while she awkward realises that she cannot pay this bard lady to listen.]

[wylderrant]

Not by trade. [ Iramaat laughs again. She seems to do that a lot. ]

I mostly play for my own entertainment. We're at a party - so don't worry yourself about money. Everyone is here to enjoy.

[ She cocks her head, plucking out a few more little notes. ]

You can sit and enjoy all you like. I promise.

[stopfen]

[Just slow nodding as the fae sighed and her shoulders slumped. Phew, she wanted to listen. But didn't it didn't feel right if she couldn't pay. But if she didn't have to...

She just plonks her butt back down. Eyes closing. ]

Not many people play these things back home... [Then she falls silent to listen.]

[wylderrant]

I've only run into a few others who have experience with them, even at home.

[ Iramaat admits as she begins to pluck out another tune. Something gentle and soft, almost lulling. ]

They're a bit out of fashion these days. Most people like violins or lutes or something like that.

[ She shrugs, watching the fae with a distinct sense of curiosity. ]

Would you like something more stirring?

[stopfen]

[The fae was tempted to ask more. Not that she was interested much in the things, or she hadn't thought she was. She just liked the sound, the tones it carried even if she couldn't replicate it the few times she'd tried to play.

Was this instrument harder to play than others? Was that why it was rarer? Was that why the Faun had taught herself?

But she didn't, she would listen politely. Eyes creasing in a closed-eye smile. Even if that seemed peaceful, there was still the odd fidget. Just little things, like her antenna, wings, something stirring under her skin that urge to move.

A feeling that dampens a little as the fae jerks at the question. Tilting her head. Large eyes, blinking.]

More stirring? [Iramaat, you may have caught a dumb fae.]

[wylderrant]

Yes, you know... a bit more exciting. to get the blood pumping. Something to dance to, maybe.

[ She smiles broadly at the fae. ]

Unless you enjoy listening to me slow, sad songs.

[ The fae is rather curious. Nothing like the fae Iramaat was at home and in this case she seemed to have a surfeit of energy. Well, maybe she can help with that. Somehow. ]

[stopfen]

[Ohh dancing. That gets a reaction. It was just the fae leaning slightly, eyes gleaming, wings sparkling. Then the twitching starts, her long fingers, the tarse at the end of her arms, ears, antenna, the lot.]

I like dancing... [Abrubt and slightly higher-pitched as the fae rushed to get her words out. Then the fae remained silent again, brain catching up to think.

Nah... Nothing, no thoughts. Just her wings buzzing into action, scattering that fine dust into the air and getting the fae on her feet. One of said feet tapping the growing.]

[wylderrant]

Oh, good!

[ Her fingers start to pluck out a tune. Something faster. More of a jig, suitable for moving to. Quick and sharp and pleasant to the ear. ]

I was hoping you'd say that. It means someone will appreciate all of this.

cw: I can't write dancing

[stopfen]

[That makes the fae bounce on her feet, it's not quite a dance but she's trying. Struggling to contain.]

Why wouldn't people appreciate it? [Not that she's staying still to hear an answer, her wings letting out another dull buzz dampened by an illusion so she could hear the music as she darted... Mikasa... That's not dancing, that's just jumping to another spot. Pausing for a moment before taking another small hop, into Iramaat's space. Arms held out at her sides.

Tilting her head.]

Why wouldn't someone appreciate it?

[wylderrant]

[ Oh, dear. Well, Iramaat supposes that's a sort of dance, but it leaves a bit to be desired, doesn't it? No movement of the arms, just a sort of rhythmic hopping back and forth... although if her new audience is content with that, she can't really second-guess her, can she? ]

Well, if there's no one here to listen, then it will go unappreciated! Except by me, of course, but I'm the one playing, so it's a little different.

[stopfen]

[Oh deer, she was trying. Even if oddly resembled a bird hopping around on the ground. More curious than a proper dance. Arms held out a little behind her, hands pointing up... There was some minor airplane arms going on.

But that was the human arms. The longer barb covered mantis arms were a bit more active. After lightly wafting for a moment, they were hooking into the surrounding vines to pull the fae up as she climbed.

She's going to hang up here and swing around, on the high ground. What could go wrong? Other than the attempt at humming along a few seconds behind.]

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat actually laughs aloud as she watches the fae go clambering up into the vines. She's not all that bothered by it (or her humming). It's amusing to watch, honestly, and to just let things be for the evening. She pushes to her feet and trails along behind her - or rather, circles below, still strumming along to try and give the fae a decent accompaniment for her strange little "dance" up in the vines.

No words for this song, but she also joins in the humming to try and provide a counter-point. ]

You look like you're enjoying yourself.

[stopfen]

[The fae chirped and chittered as she moved a lot more animated now she was up in the trees. Balancing and twirling as she flitted from branch to branch. It might have not quite been a dance to some as she kept moving.

It was nice, being up in the air. Wing running through her hair, even if wings were different to using her gear. Something freeing about being up and off the ground. To the point she almost forgets, drifting off and away. Her head in the clouds.

The words only just register as the fae landed on a branch, bouncing and going around the trunk to double back to the faun. Wings sprinkling that fae dust everywhere. Her breath catching as she tried to explain...but was there really any explaining it.]

Yeah. It's... Nice... Being near the sky. [A tiny shrug as she peered, trying to convey what she meant when she didn't understand herself. Something about the sky, the moon and the stars. Something that felt important.]

[wylderrant]

[ It's the moon, of course, and Iramaat is only able to be as clear-headed as she is thanks to her bond. So she understands and is willing to indulge her. She watches and listens, her hands finally stilling and letting the music go silent as she regards her with a sense of interest. She really does have her head in the metaphorical clouds, doesn't she? ]

I can't say I know the feeling, alas. I am rather grounded.

[ She grins and shrugs. ]

No wings. But the moon... the stars... those I do appreciate from my lowly position.

[stopfen]

[The fae stills, so much she might have passed for a statue if it weren't for her hair and antenna catching on the fae. Yes. That, for some reason it seemed like the right answer. Not that Mikasa could explain why. Even if the fae herself would try and reach those stars if it weren't for the limits of her wings.

But it's enough to make those big black eyes crease, lips curling into a smile. It was small, nowhere near the faun's grin. But she was trying, her ears tilting down.]

I think... It might be like fauns and the dirt.

[The plant people.]

[wylderrant]

Fauns and dirt?

[ Iramaat laughs. ]

You make it sound like we're mucking about in it, but... yes. It is like that in a way. We seem to have an affinity for growing things and fertile earth... and it calls to us. It makes us want to be closer to it. So... yes, very similar. Even if I wish you'd chosen more flattering words.

[ She pats the spot next to her. ]

Do you want to join me for a little while longer? I think we have some wine still... somewhere.

[stopfen]

There's nothing wrong with that... Dirt is good. I can only grow stuff the normal way. [It's enough to get a frown. Or was it a pout at the point? The fae was in too much of a daze to stop herself from puffing her cheeks up a little.

But really, it was kind of annoying trying to sell things she'd grown only to be told Faun and Witches could do it better. Her farmer cred...

She almost sighed from it, before turning her attention to the faun again. Frowning at the spot on the ground that was being patted, then the faun. Antenna giving a flick. Thinking 'bout it.

Then there's a buzz as she flutters over and sitting again. Pulling her legs up to hug them, rest her chin on her knees. Silently agreeing to hang out more.]