Kaithe Dame
wolfsujiyama
Vampiretwilight
Phoe
Andreyich
Pen Name
TheAmishPirate
Charley
WhiteAngel25
Tyler NightCair!
Cair took off her scarf.
"Red and white yarn originally, hand-crocheted. A heartfelt gift for a rarely seen relation," she said. "Not something made or received thoughtlessly, but improperly hung out to dry on a windy day. Blown out of town to land on a bramble bush. Long exposure bleached the dyes away to a yellow-brown white."
She folded it and set it down next to her, on the Architect-Knight's knuckle. "Not mine, not made for me. I discovered it, I wore it, but nothing like a connection that fond and distant opened itself up to me."
She shrugged, struggled, and wormed her way free of her huge overcoat.
"Slickleather," she said. "Made from the tongues of Bacon Clams, harvested by Stormwrack dredgers and pinned together with fadecopper nails. It takes over a thousand clam tongues to make a single coat, but dredger children start making theirs from age eight and add continuously to the length of their coats as they grow. The result is an outfit that is simultaneously perpetually wet and aggressively hydrophobic, allowing for clean and easy entry and exit from the water. A deeply personal outfit, and the one dredgers wear when their bodies are returned to the sea."
She folded it like the scarf. The frictionless mucous made it try to unwrap itself, but Cair pressed it down with a brass baton she had in an interior pocket. "Not mine, not made for me. I won it, I wore it, but I don't have a culture that strong to stand inside. When I wear I don't feel the strength of tradition, no matter how hard I try to perceive it."
Getting the vest off was the hardest battle yet. Every button was in the wrong slot, the clasps had been jerry-rigged and did not give up their secrets easily. In coherence with everything else it had appeared slovenly, taken as an individual thing it looked like an actively malicious piece of clothing.
She folded it and set it next to the other garments. "My riddlevest. Handmade by me, so help me. Forty buttons and thirty two button holes, three separate failed attempts to recreate the zipper from Yuki's hoodie, two pockets - but they're big ones - and some twineloops that can be used to tie the sleeves into place in cold weather. An abject failure of sewing that I've been trying to progress to a usable state for decades but I'm no closer than when I started."
There was no line of symmetry to fold this thing; she just dropped it in a heap next to the others. "The challenge was to guess my title, Sir Architect-Knight. You've had a few more tries, and just like last time you've mixed so much wrong with what you've gotten right I can't fairly call it a success. Maybe you weren't listening when I told you that you were 'entirely incorrect' when you called me a spineless girl - but anyway. Let me see if I can fix things up for you.
She took off her shirt.
"Light-debtor / long-lingering,
To bounty drawn / from bullion beaten.
Time-trapped / treasure-testing,
of Artifice / an art piece."
Beneath all her layers was not skin and flesh; it was shining mercury. It shifted and shimmered with each movement of the Architect-Knight's hand, chromium liquid mirroring everything in every direction. Even the glamour that filled her face with life began to slip away, held in place with spells in the absent clothing.
"I am the Mercury Golem," said Cair. "I was unfinished when I was sent to fight Heron. In her mercy, she let me stay here afterwards to see if I could find the pieces to finish myself. So yeah, like I said, I get it."
*
Rurik!
Rurik couldn't be more excited.
He loves travel. He's been looking forward to it all his life. He couldn't do it for most of it - he had to tend the Shrine of the Hero, manage the estate, sew the battledresses - but after he was done each day's chores he'd return to his room where every wall was plastered with postcards and posters detailing exotic locations. He'd pick a travel guide down off a shelf and read about exotic locations like the Stormwrack Bay or Vespergift and imagine what they'd be like. When he walked into the Stormwrack Fish Market what would be the Catch of the Day? What approach would one of the Scavenger Yard's conmen take with him? This sketch of the Civil Church was over a hundred and twenty years old - what would it look like now?
Of course his dreams were not just idle self gratification. He had a duty! No, he'd planned routes and calculated logistics from anything for a single person to the movement of an army. He'd pored over maps with an eye to both strategic defense and accommodation with the most picturesque sight lines. Finally he got the chance to put everything into practice!
A few complications. Enough to keep him busy. He didn't originally plan for having the Dark Dragon herself in his train. But that was the Hero of Ages for you.
His route runs from the Stacks to Stoneward, and then a public entry into the city. He would announce the party and release Aadya and Injimo to search publicly. He was a big believer in awe, grandeur and reputation and the Heroine's reputation was one of her most dangerous assets. The enemy would go to ground and hide - that would disrupt their plans, and buy time for the real Hero to return.
And then, when Heron was back, she'd fix everything. He knew it.
Cair took off her scarf.
"Red and white yarn originally, hand-crocheted. A heartfelt gift for a rarely seen relation," she said. "Not something made or received thoughtlessly, but improperly hung out to dry on a windy day. Blown out of town to land on a bramble bush. Long exposure bleached the dyes away to a yellow-brown white."
She folded it and set it down next to her, on the Architect-Knight's knuckle. "Not mine, not made for me. I discovered it, I wore it, but nothing like a connection that fond and distant opened itself up to me."
She shrugged, struggled, and wormed her way free of her huge overcoat.
"Slickleather," she said. "Made from the tongues of Bacon Clams, harvested by Stormwrack dredgers and pinned together with fadecopper nails. It takes over a thousand clam tongues to make a single coat, but dredger children start making theirs from age eight and add continuously to the length of their coats as they grow. The result is an outfit that is simultaneously perpetually wet and aggressively hydrophobic, allowing for clean and easy entry and exit from the water. A deeply personal outfit, and the one dredgers wear when their bodies are returned to the sea."
She folded it like the scarf. The frictionless mucous made it try to unwrap itself, but Cair pressed it down with a brass baton she had in an interior pocket. "Not mine, not made for me. I won it, I wore it, but I don't have a culture that strong to stand inside. When I wear I don't feel the strength of tradition, no matter how hard I try to perceive it."
Getting the vest off was the hardest battle yet. Every button was in the wrong slot, the clasps had been jerry-rigged and did not give up their secrets easily. In coherence with everything else it had appeared slovenly, taken as an individual thing it looked like an actively malicious piece of clothing.
She folded it and set it next to the other garments. "My riddlevest. Handmade by me, so help me. Forty buttons and thirty two button holes, three separate failed attempts to recreate the zipper from Yuki's hoodie, two pockets - but they're big ones - and some twineloops that can be used to tie the sleeves into place in cold weather. An abject failure of sewing that I've been trying to progress to a usable state for decades but I'm no closer than when I started."
There was no line of symmetry to fold this thing; she just dropped it in a heap next to the others. "The challenge was to guess my title, Sir Architect-Knight. You've had a few more tries, and just like last time you've mixed so much wrong with what you've gotten right I can't fairly call it a success. Maybe you weren't listening when I told you that you were 'entirely incorrect' when you called me a spineless girl - but anyway. Let me see if I can fix things up for you.
She took off her shirt.
"Light-debtor / long-lingering,
To bounty drawn / from bullion beaten.
Time-trapped / treasure-testing,
of Artifice / an art piece."
Beneath all her layers was not skin and flesh; it was shining mercury. It shifted and shimmered with each movement of the Architect-Knight's hand, chromium liquid mirroring everything in every direction. Even the glamour that filled her face with life began to slip away, held in place with spells in the absent clothing.
"I am the Mercury Golem," said Cair. "I was unfinished when I was sent to fight Heron. In her mercy, she let me stay here afterwards to see if I could find the pieces to finish myself. So yeah, like I said, I get it."
*
Rurik!
Rurik couldn't be more excited.
He loves travel. He's been looking forward to it all his life. He couldn't do it for most of it - he had to tend the Shrine of the Hero, manage the estate, sew the battledresses - but after he was done each day's chores he'd return to his room where every wall was plastered with postcards and posters detailing exotic locations. He'd pick a travel guide down off a shelf and read about exotic locations like the Stormwrack Bay or Vespergift and imagine what they'd be like. When he walked into the Stormwrack Fish Market what would be the Catch of the Day? What approach would one of the Scavenger Yard's conmen take with him? This sketch of the Civil Church was over a hundred and twenty years old - what would it look like now?
Of course his dreams were not just idle self gratification. He had a duty! No, he'd planned routes and calculated logistics from anything for a single person to the movement of an army. He'd pored over maps with an eye to both strategic defense and accommodation with the most picturesque sight lines. Finally he got the chance to put everything into practice!
A few complications. Enough to keep him busy. He didn't originally plan for having the Dark Dragon herself in his train. But that was the Hero of Ages for you.
His route runs from the Stacks to Stoneward, and then a public entry into the city. He would announce the party and release Aadya and Injimo to search publicly. He was a big believer in awe, grandeur and reputation and the Heroine's reputation was one of her most dangerous assets. The enemy would go to ground and hide - that would disrupt their plans, and buy time for the real Hero to return.
And then, when Heron was back, she'd fix everything. He knew it.