To speak in a shared tongue

Ignatius goes to meet the new ambassador of Gior... with wine and cheese.

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Ignatius
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Fri Dec 14, 2018 5:14 am

28 Dentis 2718 | 15th hour
THE STACKS
Clouds were the flavour of the day, the sky overcast and threatening to grow darker. A small chill had taken to the air, others seemingly beginning to wrap themselves up warmer. Coats closed, bodies beginning to curl inwards upon the streets. Fearful almost of the threat of rain. Not that it bother Ignatius. The grey allowed him to wander with less of a squint; the rose tinted glasses perched upon the end of his nose. The light was more acceptable, allowing him in return to navigate the streets.

Dressed smartly, the Galdor walked with a spring in his step. Clean shaven, the lingering scent of ground coffee followed him – he was required to make an impression, and first impressions were the most important. White shirt, crested with a burgundy cravat, a waist coat with various swirls of red dancing across the front panels. Dark trousers, bracers, and polished black brogues. Brought to a shine, they caught the little light and softly glowed in response. Over it all a finely woven coat, hanging open with its brass buttons. Red hair slicked back, he adjusted the hold the basket beneath his arm.

Today’s mission took him to the Abassador of Gior – a position he previously associated with his father. Times changed however and since the Senior Vinter stepped down from his position a younger one took his place. An Athrym Bruthgrave was the new one, female, half Giorian. Though in the eyes of Ignatius that hardly an issue. As long as they held their country, their precious homeland to heart the origin did not matter. The journalist let the small smile curl onto his lips, a slow neutral expression he frequently fell into. It has a tendency to put people at ease, more so with the field that gently waved and drifted over, occasionally fluttering when something caught his attention. He imagined it as a soft yellow, nearing into greens, when the attention was snatched.

As he closed in on the location, he adjusted himself. A slower pace as he smoothed out the crinkles of his shirt. A small adjusting of the cuffs, a brief peer back into the basket – it was a bottle of wine, a collection of cheeses and other light and storable edibles. All local produce, a point of discussion and something the ambassador would have to familiarise herself with. Not that the Journalist was going to enforce it, it was more an exercise of getting the motions going.

Flicking the last of his hair to one side, he reached the front door, straightened. He knocked thrice, his throat clearing as his field shifted to professionalism. Ears twitching and waiting for some element of response, he spoke softly through the door in Giorian, “Aghala eate deuee ethseeda heye. I am Ignatius Vinter, seedayar of the previous ambassador heye. I am here to grant you a late welcome to Anaxas.”

He remained where he was for the moment, making no further moves as he exercised the matter of patience. What was she to be like? What was her goals? Agenda? The questions flowed back and forth, a gentle buzzing of curiosity betraying him in his field.

“I may come back later if now is a beaydy time?”

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Athrym Bruthgrave
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Mon Dec 17, 2018 6:22 am

28th Dentis, 2718
Athryms Abode| 15th Hour
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The threatening dark clouds that filled the Dentis sky seemed to be a physical manifestation of the Ambassador’s current mood. She had laid in bed for houses, staring glumly out the window of her bedroom as she lay with the covers pulled over her head, eyes red rimmed and puffy from crying for what felt like days on end. Her words to Nauleth, his words back at her, echoed in the young Gioran’s mind over and over like a phonograph on repeat. It wasn’t her place to tell an Anaxi how to treat the passives in their own country, but for the love of Imaan the Professor was going to be entering Gior! He had to have some sense of perspective, had to look through the eyes of her own culture. If he treated the passives in Gior the same way he treated those in Anaxas, Athrym was absolutely positive he would be expelled with no option to return, regardless of how clever his e-lec-tricity was.

She had only been trying to help.

Finally dragging herself from bed around the eleventh hour, the pale blonde galdor pulled on a simple periwinkle dress with capped sleeves and a dark grey waist cinch over top, tying her long platinum locks into a high smooth chignon before throwing her chest of clothing open. Dragging her suitcase from under the apartment bed, Athrym flung the top open and began to pull garments from the box, folding them with an angry movement and stuffing them into the case. Her field crackled as she shifted from tearful woe to indignant rage. How dare he. How dare that infuriating man speak down at her, about her people and her home. Did he have a single smart thought in that pretty head of his?! What had she ever seen in him in the first place.

Everything.

Pausing mid fold, her summer gaze looked down at the garment in hand. It was the same cream colored dress she had worn at dinner. Tears blurred her vision, and the woman blinked them away with frustration. Since when had she allowed herself to become so feeble, so enslaved to her emotions. Carmel would be glaring down her nose at her daughter, pink eyes hard and judgemental. She would berate Athrym for falling for an Anaxi, knowing full well that her own father had ruined her future by arranging her marriage to one of the red haired devils. What a waste of an opportunity. If the albino woman knew about the set up between Lord Bruthgrave and Incumbent Siordanti, she had kept it well hidden. Had she done it as a test? To see if her daughter really was as driven as herself? Only Imaan and Carmel knew that. Why had she fallen so stupidly into the trap of emotional connection. Logic screamed at her during his proposal, standing in the pouring rain that night, to think more clearly. To view their engagement for the political set up it could be. But no, she had to go acting like a lovesick Sekeul pup, all swooning and fawning and giggles for some…some…some…

For Naul.

A knocking from downstairs drew the Gioran from her hopeless circle of self pity and violent anger, causing her to drop the dress and stand.

“Just a moment!” The young woman called out. Taking a deep breath, she knuckled at the tears that had threatened to spill, glancing at herself in a foyer mirror on the way through with a pout. Gods, she looked a right mess. As she approached, she felt at first an unfamiliar field, but more importantly she heard a familiar sound.

Gioran.

Reaching for the door handle, Athrym opened it slowly, peering out at the man that stood on her threshold, claiming to be the offspring of the previous Ambassador. He was taller than she, but not by much, with a shock of red hair and a smattering of freckles. For a moment, he was Anaxi to the woman, perhaps a little sturdier in the frame and taller, but otherwise not the pale of her heritage. It wasn’t till she noticed his eyes that the Gioran saw it properly. No other race could boast the unique quartz of their race, both a beautiful blessing and a frustrating curse. The sun was not their friend. Her own woefully half Anaxi gene’s were on full display in her summer gaze as it swept across the man’s effortlessly well put together outfit, a Bastian flair to his attire. His accent was something of a mix between Gioran and something else. Not Anaxi that was for certain.

“Aghala eate deuee hedyda e Vinter. Ey yalthady, ey wasn't expecting company. Ey just...” She paused, as though on the verge of turning him away. Her current mood was black as the endless Deep, but to hear the familiar rhythmic tones of home stirred something in the blonde. She needed that right now, something that reminded her of who she was. Swallowing the lump that began to form in her throat, the young woman tried on a small smile, stepping aside with a sweep of her hand.

“Ey afraid zeu time is a hedyda time at present, so verahay, come in.” Her voice was slightly strained, and as Ignatius entered, the Ambassador would take a moment to settle her emotions before turning to guide the man through to her sitting room where a fire barely burned as embers. Athrym didn’t need the heat, her body accustomed to a constant coolness in the mountain of Qrieth. Ignatius’ field hummed softly with curiosity, and she could caprise no false intentions within its brush against her own.

“Imaan ahexear me, ey yalthady. Would deuee prefer the warmth? Ey not used to the anaxi climate yet.” Gesturing to one of the seats, the young woman glanced at her hands for a moment, fighting to keep the anger and hurt from her field with the ex diplomats son.

“Ey afraid your late welcome might be an early hadabedy, Sir Vinter.” The Gioran said, before offering him another small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Haymoke me for asking, but your accent sounds ayrte than heye. Is it Anaxi? Ey afraid ey haven't been given ehyseda information about your eohda, so ey am a ehyse at a disadvantage.”

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Ignatius
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Mon Dec 17, 2018 8:38 am

28 Dentis 2718 | 15th hour
THE STACKS
The call alerted him of the other, the turn of footsteps as they made an approach. It gave him enough time to mentally calculate his tact. His fingers pinched onto the arm of his glasses, removing them as the door handle was turned. He flashed a smile, a small wince as a slither of light caught him off guard, before giving a low bow, “Ey apologise for the sudden appearance, amkode ambassador. But ey am most thankful to your hospitality.”

He did not miss the faint smudge of pink around the eyes, the rawness of tears that made their threats. It was one of those things he noted, the attempt to have a stiff upper lip and maintain a sense of control against whatever made threats against her psyche. Standing straight he placed his glasses back on, lids fluttering as he adjusted his vision. With a flash of a smile he followed, enjoying the coolness that greeted him. Pink orbs shifting, his field continue to let out a small thought filled hum – though the few occasions it prickled when something of interest caught his gaze.

Basket tucked under his arm he continued to speak in his soft tones to the creature. Fragile, he did not need the additional sense brought by his field to see the faint crumbling around the edges. He placed the basket beside one of the seats, coat sliding off from his shoulders as he draped it over the back, “The cool suits me just fine.”

For a moment he remained standing, watching with calm curiosity – the mind of the journalist turning over with curiosity. He waited for her to sit, respecting the distance. His hands clasped behind his back, eyes catching the smile and the eyes that did not speak it. A small lift of the chin, “Ey apologise, the lack of information was not to disadvantage deuee. He is Ansgar Vinter, recently retired – though ey am not sure aghala long that will be for. The twang in the accent is from my eoh, she hails from Bastia.”

“I am yalthady to hear that deuee eate leaving,” he began. The small curl of lips, the voice rippled between, “So soon, it seems. But, if your duties call deuee elsewhere then so be it. I…” the journalist gave a small shrug, “Ey was requested by my eohda to assist with the various cultural differences between our daeh and here – Anaxas is a amkode ayrte beast.” He gestured to the basket, “But, if that is not to be the case then verahay accept this as a farewell and safe ayr gift. It is a ehyse collection of locally sourced produce: wine, cheese, some jams. Sweets too. Quaint things. I… did not know your preference of flavour.”

Easing himself down into the chair, he gave a small cursory glance to the room and studied its features. It was obviously some temporary lodgings, one they had not made themselves home in at all. A shame really, it held potential just by looking at it. But that was not his decision to make. His fingers came together in a steeple, the small shift in his field as he regarded her, “If ey am allowed to be so bold ambassador, may ey query upon why deuee eate leaving so soon? And may ey assist in any way? we must, after all, look after our own where possible. And ey would be humbled to do so for deuee.”

“If not, may ey recommend drinking the red wine with the cheese and peppered crackers?” He leaned back in the chair, “They eate amkode complimentary flavours.”
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Athrym Bruthgrave
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Fri Dec 21, 2018 6:27 pm

28th Dentis, 2718
Athryms Abode| 15th Hour
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Making a sound in her throat, Athrym nodded and tipped a finger at the mention of his mother’s background.

“Ah bastia, of course. Ey hear it now. Did your eoh spend time in Gior? My eohda, unfortunately, is Anaxi, but this is my first visit to his daeh country.” Her hand waved for a moment, as though to dismiss his commentary about her duties elsewhere.

“It’s a personal matter i’m afraid, not rayb related. Though, by the Child’s Light, deuee eate absolutly right Mister Vinter. Anaxas is nothing like daeh. I’ve struggled, ey admit, to put aside my own teachings and see the place through unbiased eyes but honestly. It’s a shame…it’s a shame we didn’t meet sooner.” She shook her head with a bitter laugh, not quite ready to speak on the cultural differences of Gior and Anaxas that were in fact the reason for her departure. Turning her eyes to the basket, the Ambassador moved to look through the gifts as Ignatius spoke.

“Kdeuee mister vinter, this is a wonderful gift, in eu or hadabedy. Ey admit ey have a ayoeh of a seede tooth, so ey’ll be excited to try the jams at breakfast. And sweets in the evening.” Picking up the red wine and glancing over the label with the care of a distillary moguls daughter, the blonde’s polite smile fell and her pale cheeks colored slightly, swallowing against the lump that wanted to form in her throat.

Giorans, there was no hiding from their bold openness.

Lifting her eyes to meet his pink gaze, the young woman tilted her head.

“Verahay, call me Athrym. We eate both heye here, formalities eate for the hueheze's. Cheese and peppered crackers deuee say? Well mister vinter, perhaps if deuee can find those in the basket, ey shall find us a couple of glasses and we can share this vintage together. Heye to heye in the beast that is Anaxas. If deuee would like to?” Waiting for him to confirm first, Athrym disappeared into the kitchen to find two fine crystal goblets, gathering her field to gently coax the cork from the wine bottle with a soft Pull incantation. It popped gentle into her palm, and as the Gioran poured the beverage into the glasses, she appreciated the depth of color that the wine had. It was a fine alcohol, the aroma boasting hints of fruit and earthy tannin. Bringing the drinks and the rest of the bottle back to the sitting area, she handed a glass to Ingatius and settled the bottle on the small coffee table between the seats, producing a small cheese knife at the same time to hand to the man. They were large glasses that she had poured, entirely improper for formal drinking, and raising hers to the man as she swept into her own chair, she smiled again.

“May Imaan guide your days.” Taking a deep sip of the wine, Athrym raised her eyebrows at the smooth bold taste, before lowering it and biting her lip for a moment in thought.

“Ey theze from Anaxas because ey cannot take the evyedy ignorace of these huehezes any longer. Ey made the journey from Gior with the Da Huane’s blessings, and ey had intentions of utilising the library of Brunnhold to further my magic studies, but ey am afraid ey may have let too ehyseda of this country rub off on me.” Leaning to steal a small piece of cheese and one of the crackers, the Ambassador nibbled at the morsel with an appreciative nod before putting the rest in her mouth.

“Oh deuee eate right, that is hedyda.” Perched on the edge of her seat, legs crossed, the blonde took another sip and shook her head.

“Ey let my emotions get in the way of my studies, and seeing the countries flaws. Have deuee seen aghala they treat the veays here? slaves! aghala can a kingdom so boastful of all it’s advancements in science and technology, be so close minded about their own non-magical seedayardy. And humans. They have let themselves become depandant on the dythtede beasts, like infants sucking the teat of their eoh. But they call it being ‘superior’.” Her nose curled, disgusted by the thought of being dependant on another race to survive. Galdori looked after galdori, that was how it should be. Pausing, Athrym realised she’d possibly offended the man, who she so easily believed was raised Gioran due to his father and his fluency.

“Have deuee been in Anaxas long? Deuee grew up in Gior, de?”

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Ignatius
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Wed Jan 02, 2019 7:57 am

28 Dentis 2718 | 15th hour
THE STACKS
Elbows perched upon the arms of the chair, the pink eyes peering above the brass rims of his glasses. He watched the small creature pause, delicately circling their words. It was a dance really, cautiously stepping around without giving too much away – but revealing all so much. He made no such moves himself, politely smiling as she went through the motions. He went through his own, finding the cheese and crackers as requested. They were a small variety, hard and soft, a dark wax coat for some while others wore a thinner. Others featured dark blue veins tracing across its yellowed surface. Unwrapping them from the cloths that swaddled them, he placed them onto a board and upon prompting with the knife cut a few testing slices, “Then if we eate to be on a first name basis and throw formality to the wind, then verahay call me Ignatius.”

He took the glass with a smile, inhaling the fruits that lingered behind and taking only a small tasting sip. He swirled it around, letting it coat his tongue before placing it to one side.

“The trick, Athrym, is to take a ehyse taste and then let it breathe – once exposed deuee may find the taste upon your palate most ayrte,” his eyes slid from her, looking to the bottle not in longing but more in memory, “It was a trick my eoh taught me, it allows deuee to gain a true understanding. Rushing to quaff will blind deuee to the strength of the drink and coat your tongue in a flavour deuee cannot shake and potentially blinding to the other flavours available.”

A digit pushed his lenses back up the bridge of his nose, “My eoh did. And my eohda time in Bastia. And ey between both growing up. It showed me ehyseda of the world and the climate they both partook in, they made it zeu secret that nations treat its people. Both sides were equally demanding and held expectations of them however.”

Ignatius gave a point to the cheese she had taken from, “That is a holderg red, called so because of the cranberries they pass it through while being processed. Deuee may notice the slight seede taste; it is accentuated with the wine.”

He liked his food and knowing what they were, another facet rubbed off on him from his mother. People were often impressed if you recognised a culture’s cuisine and could converse about it – times in court had taught him that. He gently swirled the contents of his glass, not rushing to indulge while the Ambassador voiced her frustrations. Besides, it was interesting to see her being so short-sighted – riled up by emotions instead of duties. She complained, but perhaps was conversely blind to the own ignorance of Gior. Which in turn placed the Journalist in an interesting place.

A smile broke out over the rim of his glass when she paused, that momentary blip where she had suddenly become aware of whom she was talking to.

“Ey have been here a couple of deahayeth, or three. Prior to that ey attended Brunnhold, it is where ey obtained my fluency in estuan,” there was the small lift of the chin, the glass held there between, “Ey suppose ey am Giorian, ey was born there, raised there, it is what my papers say despite my rather loud colouration.” A mere flicker up to his hair, before he looked back down, “But ey also consider myself a Bastian, a lover of the arts and aesthetic that comes with discoveries. Creativity to look beyond what is merely before deuee.”

Leaning forward he picked up a small slice of the white cheese, “Goat’s cheese with lavender, amkode soft scent, but a lot more tart.”

Placing it upon the cracker he began to work his way through it, “Ey found amkode quickly that if deuee do not allow yourself to look to your sides that deuee miss a large portion of the world; yet all of the kingdoms eate guilty of that. It takes a particular mind to be able to take all into focus.” A small snort, “Ey am not that mind. Merely one aware of his own short comings.”

Humming, the Galdor considered the words of the Ambassador, “So deuee paint all Anaxi with the same brush? Ey can see why that can be something easily done. But, it is wise to blame all the people of a group for the sethear actions of a few? There eate others who share the same view of gior in regards to passives, opposing the status quo. Did deuee know that?”

Laughing he shook his head, “Ey am yalthady, the journalist in me decided to rear its head. When it does, it has a tendency to be quite vocal. Emotions and sensations ey could indulge and prattle on about all day. As for humans? They eate a curious one, having existed in both sides of the argument ey believe there is zeu right answer – and why rock the beohayt when the people eate happy? It is not our place to judge the cultural differences, merely gently nudge a view along and in the meanwhile make an effort to try and verahay the other perspective.”
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Wed Jan 09, 2019 6:32 am

28th Dentis, 2718
Athryms Abode| 15th Hour
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Nodding slowly, the Gioran Ambassador swirled her wine slowly, not hurrying to take another sip. She knew that you should allow some alcohols to breathe. Cognac, for example, got richer and fruiter as it sat. The same was to be said for the red wine, and taking it slowly would be good anyway. In her current state the blonde was likely to inhale the bottle without giving it a second thought.

“Holderg red. Ey arreykayah eyete. Deuee're right, te eyal ay seede taste ayte zeuagh deuee mention eyete, does huayrth eeah euhu cranberries.” Moving to take a piece of the veined cheese, she tasted it with surprise. That was not what she’d expected. Letting the strong nutty flavour melt on her tongue, the young woman tilted her head slightly.

“Ignatius vinter. Ignatius. Why does ayte sound yaleu huayrth?” She narrowed her eyes, thinking carefully.

“Ey sethear, besides te fact ayte deeuehth eohda aghayeyal ay diplomat. Deeuehth name, eyete reminds eeah euhu something ey've heard beahuah. Eyete's euze te tip euhu eede tongue. Yaldyet.” Picking up her glass again, the blonde took a sip, much smaller and more controlled then her previous near-gulp. The other man’s smile over the top of his glass, perhaps brought on by her ramblings, brought a slight touch of color to her cheeks. It was clear she was still letting emotions run her thoughts, and his rosy gaze seemed to speak it before his words came forth. Fortunately, the galdor did not open his mouth to judge her, instead speaking of his history as she had asked it.

At the mention of his hair, she couldn’t help but laugh, dimples breaking through the well practiced straight face she’d been keeping. For a Gioran, it was amusing because it was true. He would have been like her in Gior, shunned for his impurities. Unwelcomed entirely by his peers. Moving as he did, she took a piece of the creamy white substance, fishing for a cracker and smelling the morsel gently before placing it in her mouth. The floral undertones were strong in the back of her sinuses’, but not unpleasant. Smiling, she sat back, sensing a mild undertone in his voice.

“Ay euhu anaxas? Ey...ey daayedy zeeute stopped teeuoh kay ayebeeuehte eyete, behte ey suppose ey dyeuo. Bede te Seedayar's Light, does ayte make eeah ayze beaydy person? Ey ayee zeu better tedaayze those ey huee euhu. Ey daayedy zeeute...ey yalayeydy beaydy things teeuoh someone...important...because ey aghayeyal teu caught ehve eyzee aghdayte Gior agheuhardy kay.” Her smile had fallen, brow drawn slightly in thought, almost unconsciously taking another deep drink of the wine. It had definitely become better with sitting. Summer eyes dropped to the edge of her glass, rolling the velvety liquid within and pursing her lips.

“Eyehu tede share te same view, why dyeuo tede let eyeyal cruelness happen ignatius? Daeuagh see tede stand quietly whilst impaired galdori eate treated yaleu unkindly. Even eyzee gior, aghah dyeuo zeeute treat humans ayte aghah happen across arreykayah eyeyal, aghah just ignore tee. Arreykayah te animals euhu te mountains. Wild creatures teeuoh beah left alone.” It was rhetorical, not aimed at the red head to answer, her frustrations at the fight with Naul nipping at the edges of her thoughts. Was she in the wrong then, with her outburst? Had she been inconsiderate of the culture she was currently involved in.

Could she accept that she might have been in some small way, wrong?

His sudden laughter caught her off-guard, and the pale creature looked up with a slow smile, breaking into a gasp and a pointed finger.

“Ignatius vinter! Ey kayzeuagh aghdaeu deuee eate zeuagh! Oh, Imaan—” The touch of color on Athrym’s cheeks turned into a deeper pink as she realized where she knew the name from. Ignatius was a journalist. She had read his work.

But, he also had another type of writing that she had discovered whilst in Anaxas. A type of writing that was not available in Gior’s libraries. A type of writing she had on her bedside table, along with various others ready to be packed in her bags for home.

“Ey ayee ayze admirer euhu deeuehth rayb, ignatius. Eyete is…descriptive.” Her dimples returned and she quaffed a large mouthful of the wine with a smirk. Surely, he knew what she was talking about didn’t involve his clever reporting and investigative pieces.

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