"Hey, does anyone know what this is?" Rowan said toward the group, trying her best not to draw the crowd's attention to the stone in the process.
“Looks like a moonstone to me,” Ambrose offered, remarking on the celestial visage carved into the rock. “Sorry, bad joke. I don’t know. I barely know what this is.” He jangled the weird spoon thing at the rest of them.
“Am I supposed to wear it around my neck? Double up on the spoons? Is this a soup-based culture?”
...She pinched the bridge of her nose in exaggerated exasperation at the himbo. "Brose, you have to know that it's not a soup based culture. They'd be praising the True Broth, wouldn't they?"
Those nearest to Eckehart, or most perceptive amongst the party, would see his long ears twitch at Rowan's words and as he strides along he looks back over his shoulder. His tall stature and powerful gaze lend themselves to this task, and he lets out a whisper of a laugh that somehow floats through the air and into everyone's ears despite the relative loudness of the festival itself;
"Your companion has the gist of it; a moonstone, dearest guest." He says to Rowan. "Within Xaktin, the name of this fair city, there are many disparate groups and factions who have bonded in this realm. The Summons of Yo'Bikur brings many people from many lands, and that moonstone is the symbol of one such group of like minded individuals. They are wise in their own way, and their matron's power comes from her home world and not of the Song itself. She must have divined your presence in some way, take it as compliment and invitation... As for his trinket..."
His voice focuses in on Ambrose now.
"That is, I believe, a child's toy meant to be given to good friends. When you wish to declare someone your friend, you undo the ribbon and separate the it at the ring; thusly, each of you has the matching pair of eating implementation and all will know of your friendship. I believe soup is sacred to those felinids, indeed, but they are a new people here and I am not well versed in their lore."
Their guide's attention is swiftly pulled to a torrent of questions hailing from the young Mr. Howard.
When Eckehart rose up, Damon gave him a bemused nod, then felt prompted to bow in return. It was shallower, and less refined, the kind he’d given to Odaya what felt like forever ago. “Hello…?” he greeted with an awkward smile.
All sorts of questions were trying to bubble to the surface. “Is that from an injury?” Since his thoughts were so disordered, perhaps it was inevitable that the first one to emerge was inappropriate. “Uhhh…” his cheeks coloured as Damon forced himself to ignore that scar. “Sorry, never mind that.” Sheepish, he looked away. His gaze was drawn to the dragon. “Is that…? Are they….Ru-la-ni-a?” he carefully worded the name. He wasn’t all that certain about his guess, but he was sure that the dragon was at least somehow related.
Emboldened now that they had a guide – that they weren’t just entirely unto themselves in a strange new world – Damon followed after Eckehart. He had to move somewhere between a quick walk and a light jog to catch up, but didn’t seem bothered by that. “True Voice?” he questioned. He assumed that's what that Song was. “Do you hear it, too?”
Eckehart approaches the questions in order;
"Hello, my friend." He begins cordially, unperturbed by Damon's questions. "Yes, yes it is an injury. I am at peace with it, fear not your curiosities. It is my job to take your questions. Long ago there were great wars here in Yo'Bikur, the realm you have been summoned to. Most call it simply the Dreamland. I am one of the Bikura, the chosen of The Song, to be steward and herald of this land to those who are drawn from elsewhere. The Bikura are chosen from amongst all who are drawn to Yo'Bikur, and and some are even born here. I come from a race of long lived peoples, and I have seen many seasons come and go- even those where dizzying swords and flashes of magic were not mere displays of artistry. But do not worry yourselves at this time with old history and dark times, for now we are in the times of Rulania and there is peace in the lands."
He sighs, then laughs, at Damon's next question.
"Nay! That is Belerigon the Black, and you had best be glad it is he. The Dragons are not typically kindly folk, but Belerigon has heard the voice of Rulania and declared himself friend to the Bikura. He is guest, though not as honored as yourselves, and comes and goes as he pleases with his own magics and purposes. I was beginning to grow worried, for he was running late for the celebrations. Rulania is Princess, and True Voice of Yo'Bikur. All Bikura hear The Song when the ebbs and flows of fate are so inclined, we hear the voices of the beasts and some of us can even learn to speak to the flowers and trees, but Rulania speaks for Yo'Bikur itself. Listen, friends, and behold The Song, sung in the voice of Rulania. It is the same Song the drew you here."
And with that he pauses, closing his eyes, and letting The Song wash over him in full. He touches the golden symbol at his throat.
"This is the mark of the Bikura; if you see this sign, know we are friend to those who mean Yo'Bikur no harm. When it is aglow like this, we hear The Song. When Rulania speaks, we are always in its presence- and tonight she sings, for the New Year, for you!...And for the fun of it, I imagine, for she does so love to sing."
... Looking down, he noticed a purplish sphere, small enough to be covered within his palm, glowing under the nightsky of this new world, surrounded by a golden ring. He had no idea what this was supposed to be used for, or even what the item was.
David looked around if there was anyone having the same kind of items. Next to him was William, someone David knew more than others, so he gladly leaned over to check up on him. "Hey man, glad to see you have the better end of the makeover." He said with a wave before holding up the item he was given. "Do you have one of these as well?"
...He signaled at the necklace that had landed on him after a cloud with hands had throwed it (He didn't notice that his hair moved to grab it and drapp it on his neck) "It reminds me of those old style necklaces on cowboy movies"
Eckehart paused, their journey now reaching a new location, and takes a moment to study these two.
"Ah, you are a fortunate one indeed. Keep that sphere on you- it is a luckstone, and it is said to change colors depending on how lucky you are. Each stone is different and does not follow the same patterns as any other, but it is a princely gift indeed." He says to David.
"As for you, winged fellow-" He seems greatly amused. "-I would be cautious with neckwear. The throat and the voice are sacred things here, and wearing something about the neck or around the throat can often mean some kind of committment. Usually to someone, if you understand me."
Their journey had taken them through the nearest of streets, over that wooden arched bridge from the Silver-mere they emerged from, and from there onto a wide, stone-paved, thoroughfaire. This main street seemed to wind downwards through the city in a spiral, coiling along the spine of the strange structure until it reached the misty depths below, where the light of the fireworks above reflected against a great lake the city seemed to rise out of.
The path the group was taking now was leading them upwards, and away from this central city location. To their right, as they step out of the crowded main street, stretches the long neck of the massive black dragon. Its body rests atop a series of buildings at the highest pinnacle of Xaktin, but its neck stretches outwards and its head rests upon the large palace in the distance where it still seems to slumber. The Song is more clear here, the voices more distinct, the words more personal to each of you. A great bridge spans this distance, of vine-wrought stones, its walls filled with the growth and full bloom of springtime flowers- but some, white lillies in appearance, seem to glow with a bright light in the manner of street lanterns to show the path. The bridge was as wide as six lane road- far larger than any road in the sleepy village you all call home, and the central stones are all etched with a fine motif depicting the glories of nature. Familiar to Rowan is a strange deer-like creature, depicted in solitude in deep reaches of wood, great music billowing from its shoulders. Another depiction shows a great serpent-like creature, rising up a waterfall and emerging into the air above it, its long spines writing strange patterns into the water. A third prominent one depicts a high mountain, a powerful beam of energy rising from its peak and cascading into an aurora around it;
This same mountain, should you lift your heads, can be seen above and behind the palace. Rising high, piercing through multiple layers of clouds, and rendering the ability to determine just how far away this mountain was incredibly difficult. Far above, beyond the layer of the fireworks and even where the dragon had appeared in the sky, the distant peak was afire with this ethereal light and ghostly energy. The light seemed to writhe in the air as if alive, that dizzying beam of energy a sight of splendor all its own in the sky above as it rises into the heavens from the highest peak.Eckehart pauses here, and faces the group.
"Are there any other questions before we make audience with the princess? She has been waiting for you, all of you, for a very long time."
Weasel, for his part, had refused any gifts of idle trinkets anyone had tried to give him. His sole interaction with teh city had been trying to 'rescue' Odaya; he had been caught off guard by a series of young girls of many different races and bikur-types suddenly enveloping the overly-energetic Odaya and sequestering her into the crowd. By the time he extricated her from among the gaggle of now-retreating girls, Odaya' simple jumper had been altered into a fine black dress that melded in with the coloration of her feathers and she had been given long gloves to wear. Odaya, now that they've stopped and her excitement has worn off, slowly slides Damon's jacket off and she approaches him, offering it back up to him.
"'Ere you are. I don't need it anymore."
Alycia has been quiet all along, floating inbetween steps as her hair whipped about in the ever-changing air pressures of their environ. She had stuck to her brother's side religiously, but also been clearly taken in by the sights and wonders she saw- and yet fear held her in check and she remained at Aleyn's side no matter what wonders she witnessed...
Freyja, however, had nearly gotten lost. Twice. Each time she was drawn into the crowd by an offered gift, and each time she ended up lost in fancy. By the time the party reaches this stopping point, her antlers are laden with wreaths of flowers and about one of her arms a leather chord had been wound, a clear flask filled with a broiling, smoke-like, purple liquid secured to her forearm.
"...If what I'm hearing is Rulania, and you're saying it is, then I just want to cross as fast as possible." Freyja says quietly, a small blush filling her cheeks. "If she's been waiting on us, then I'm ready."...Ever hasty, that Freyja.
