2022-12-06 - Love vs Work (log)

2022-12-06-Love vs Work (log)

Log captured from the view of Opalina

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You ask, speaking quietly to Falvicar, "Am I adding your name of this list Falvicar?"

The secretary gives a momentary glance at the mayor's office door before returning to her task of stacking envelopes.

Falvicar gibbers incoherently.

Falvicar leans over and whispers, "I'm behaving..."

Falvicar prods your ribs gently with his elbow and you flinch, rubbing your side.

Falvicar breaks out in a silly grin.

Now and again, some resin hidden in the wood is ignited by the flames, and the fire snaps and crackles loudly. The sweet smell of the resin permeates the air and fills your nostrils.

You say, speaking quietly to Falvicar, "I'm collecting the names of interested folks who want to be a delegate for Icemule in Ta'Vaalor."

Falvicar looks rather confused.

Falvicar says, speaking to you, "I thought that list was already made..."

You ask, speaking quietly to Falvicar, "Who made it?"

You ask, speaking quietly to Falvicar, "Do you have the list?"

Elliathe asks, speaking to Falvicar, "I believe that one was more verbal than written?"

Elliathe ponders.

Falvicar says, speaking to you, "Nodyre made note of it after the last open meeting when it was decided that delegates were needed. Far as I know, he has it. I did ask him to add my name to it."

You quietly say, "He does not have it."

You quietly say, "I assure you I am creating the list right now."

You quietly ask, "Do you wish to join it?"

The secretary carefully peruses an official correspondence, handily taking notes with her free hand without even sparing a glance at what she is writing.

Elliathe smiles.

Falvicar nods.

Falvicar says, "If a new one is being made, then yes."

You say, speaking quietly to Falvicar, "As you wish."

You see Chronicler Falvicar Jalcon the Blade of the Night.

He appears to be a Sylvankind of the Tyesteron D'ahranal.

He is average height. He appears to be young. He has ether blue eyes and golden brown skin. He has long, sleek black hair peppered with silvery stars and tied back with a silver sword-shaped clasp. He has a delicate face, a classical nose and slightly pointed ears. Beneath each of his eyes is a sword, daubed on in kohl pigments. The blue-black blades point inward, towards one another. He is wearing a silver and white silk standard emblazoned with a black sword that juts over his shoulder.

He has a black unicorn tattoo on his wrist, a silver-edged black sword tattoo on his finger, a tattooed symbol of Ronan on his wrist, a moon and stars tattoo on his ear, and a snowflake-framed half-elven portrait tattoo on his arm.

He is in good shape.

He is wearing a silver gossamer sack, a blackened mithril greathelm, a silver-edged rolaren sword symbol, a flowing night-hued silk cape secured by a polished silvery clasp, a White Haven bear head pin, some silvery vultite cufflinks, a blue-maned black unicorn pin fending off a silver-scaled dragon, a small four-pointed azure star insignia inset with a golden drake, a silver spidersilk surcoat over some sleek black stalking leathers, a filigreed eonake wedding band with a nightscape motif, an urglaes thumb-ring, a silver-bound pure white scabbard with a decorative onyx sword affixed to it, a bloodstained leather survival kit, some black silver-buckled trousers embroidered with a rearing silver unicorn on each side, and some supple charcoal suede boots with darkened silver star-shaped buckles.

The fire sings its ancient song of security from the dangers of the night as you gaze into the comfortable blaze.

You set your quill to your parchment and write down your thoughts to the body of the parchment.

In the Common language, it reads:

Icemule Deligates List
 The Lady Elliathe of Icemule.
 Chronicler Falvicar Jalcon The Blade of the Night

A grizzled member of the town guard marches in and inquiries about the mayor's whereabouts. After a brief conversation, the secretary shoos him off with a gentle scolding about Mayor Dabbings's busy schedule.

Elliathe exclaims, "In any event, I will not monopolize any more of your time. I bid you both a good eve, and thank you once again!"

Your pearl white lizard abruptly whirls around and settles back down with its tail hanging down your chest. Apparently, it has decided that it is bored with the present conversation (or lack thereof) and has chosen to ignore you. In a moment or two, the lizard forgives your breach of charisma and turns back around.

Elliathe smiles warmly.

Elliathe gathers the wide skirts of her stygian velvet houppelande in her hands and drops into a low curtsy while maintaining impeccable posture and grace.

You say, speaking quietly to Elliathe, "I would love to meet with you again and listen to more about the Landing."

Falvicar says, speaking to you, "If you don't want me to go, just tell me."

Falvicar nods to you.

Elliathe nods in agreement to you.

You say, speaking quietly to Falvicar, "You do what your heart leads you to do My love. I would never stop you if you are passionate about something."

You quietly say, "It's up the Group to decide not me personally."

Falvicar says, "Still confused though."

Falvicar shrugs.

The fire crackles and the flames jump as a warm glow settles in on you.

The secretary selects a series of parchments and heats some pale blue wax before carefully pouring a blob onto each. She stamps each with a heavy mule-marked stamp before filing each document away in a drawer.

The zoetic quill folds its vane and, in a flurry of grasping tentacles, quickly pulls itself up your arm and across your shoulder. From there it drags itself up behind your ear and settles in.