OPEN;

[primrosella]

When; Saturday, June 30, evening
Rating; Individual threads may vary!
Characters; Everyone is welcome! This is an open log for Polyites and 4th Wallers alike, so just specify if it's an open thread or if you have 4th walling rules in the comment or subject line!
Summary; Whether you're a regular or a first-timer, here to stay or just passing through, the Blue Light is the place to be for good music, good food, and a sea of friendly faces to encounter.
Log;

Rosella's been to the Blue Light on nights like this before, but this is the first time she's ever been here behind the bar instead of in front of it, managing things as best she can as opposed to simply enjoying the festivities. She's still not skilled enough with bartending to dare try taking drink orders (unless, of course, they come at very special request from very special people), but she's overseeing her staff, checking up on her supplies, and just generally making sure everything runs smoothly.

The music is merry and there's the chatter of conversation in the air as the booths and tables fill with people; nearby, a space on the floor has been cleared for dancing, should any guests (local or visitor alike) find themselves with the urge to cut loose.

It's looking like it's going to be a busy night. But really, that's quite all right with her.

Comments

[lone_must_stand]

The very fact that she does not need his guard makes it dearer, and she smiles. In truth, she would not laugh; not at him, not in a hundred day-months. But she cherishes the right, the knowledge that she could, that like as not he would simply laugh with her.

"I am still learning how to learn," she admits, settling at the table without relinquishing his hand, though her fingers loosen. "Gathering texts, finding words for what I have seen already."

[and_warrior_arise]

He comes nearer, as though distance can be made naught simply by listening to her, drinking her words. He wants to know everything, if only because it is Aeriel, but also because there may be a hint, a freedom, something lingering. He does not overhope, but he hopes nevertheless, information to take to the Mage of Downending, something, anything.

If he can remember these moments, stolen between dreams.

"Many men have begun to come to Avaric's wide plains," he tells her, "to plant and grow. There are no slaves, never again will there be slaves. There is little water so we make do with what we have. It is not easy, but it is easier now than before. The rain helps - it falls often, now."

Everytime it falls he thinks of her, and the day that he learned to love again.

[lone_must_stand]

"Since Winterock fell," she agrees warmly. She hasn't seen much of the rain, but that at least she's coming to comprehend. Restoration of a water cycle, whisper her veins. The first great step towards finding a balance for their world; not enough, on its own, but essential.

"I am glad to hear of it," murmurs Aeriel quietly, after a moment's thought, suppressing a shudder at the thought of the toppled slave-markets. If she lets her eyes flutter shut she can see their shifting world, as clear as if she stood in Crystalglass; she's never quite sure if it's a true vision, or only what the pearlstuff knows must be. The Ancient city has never seemed so lonely; there is always some task, some bit of knowledge to glean-- and Erin, of course, whom she loves nearly as much as the dark girl loves her. But here, by Irrylath's side, she cannot help but feel a sharp pang of longing, knowing still that she cannot keep him.

"Avaric will thrive, with a just king." She smiles, soft. "In time, no one will remember that it has not always been so."

[and_warrior_arise]

"You will, won't you?" He says it with a touch of something - sadness, or longing - in his voice. Irrylath is not a gentle man except with her, and it is because he feels that he owes her gentleness after the sadness he caused. She deserves the little he can give, all of it, not a scrap for anyone else.

"You will be Immortal in Crystalglass, and you will always remember that boy you married unknown, and the man you saved, won't you?" Always remember me, do not forget me, please.

[lone_must_stand]

The thought of her own long life is chilling; a daymonth has done little to change either of them, but she knows that cannot last. In time Irrylath will fall to dust, as must every living being. If they meet again, perhaps he will be an old man; and Aeriel will be Aeriel yet, youthful and changeless as the lons, the new lady of NuRavenna.

"I would forget myself before you, husband."

[and_warrior_arise]

She may yet change Erin, like Melchior, into clockwork, but she will never change him. It will not be long by the time measured in Crystalglass, Irrylath's life, his heroism. He knows to hope but that is all he can do right now, that there is an unbinding of this magic that has trapped her.

It is his great sorrow. Bards will sing of that long after they have forgotten the words of the rime that was his undoing.

But now he presses his lips on hers, on her cheeks where there should be tears but there are none, on the space at the base of her ear. "I love you, Aeriel, until I die, until Crystalglass shatters and the world dissolves into the abyss of cold space."

[lone_must_stand]

Her hand twists a little in his, fingers tightening, light gleaming on the gossamer chain wound about her wrist. She's toyed with the idea, certainly, of keeping Irrylath as Ravenna kept her man, but it seems strange and cruel (though not so difficult; unbidden, the thought rises, a tracery of silver behind her eyes. The art is not lost even to mortal magicians; she could have him, have him always. But to bind him so... the idea aches more than the thought of losing him, in his time.)

She tilts her head toward him, moving to meet his lips with hers and whisper against them. "Think only of tonight, husband." Eternity is assured.

[and_warrior_arise]

"You truly are my wife, you are the only one who can tell me what to think." That matter has nothing to do with her magic, her sorcerous green eyes. He is smiling against her mouth, he doesn't need anything to drink, he is already dizzy on her presence.

"A maiden no longer but we only had a brief time to learn of love." He smiles, and there is something more in it. "Should I show you the rest of the language?"

[lone_must_stand]

In truth Aeriel still believes she has no magic; only chance and circumstance, the blessing of an Ancient lady and friends among the lons, the duaroughs. For that she is glad; doubly glad with Irrylath, to know his heart was not swayed by what she has become.

"I would have no other teacher," she murmurs.