Entr'acte

N

imue tossed her scrap of blue fabric to whoever was collecting them as she strode through the gates, back within the halls of the palace she'd performed in. She moved like a storm over the sea, a force to be reckoned with, her eyes presenting a challenge to those who met them.

The vibrancy of her blue orbs truly popped from behind a mask that she'd spent a good amount of her time on. She'd gathered the finest stones and shells found between Mirror Lake and Glass Beach to decorate them with and in one corner there sat a larger blue seashell...a gift from a friend she'd hoped she might find again tonight.

Of course, she arrived promptly at the hour, never having been one to show herself late...which somehow almost always made her early. At least this gave her time to scope things out among the castle, scrutinizing every single detail, studying it without a crowd in her way. After the protest in Inverness, she felt she might see to it that it was not only the King's night she affected, but the Royalists as well.

Nimue finally took a break from scoping out the interior of the crown's lovely abode to sample a few hors d'oeuvres and peer over at the announcement of the poet and artist. Artist...I wonder if Juni would know of them... She'd soon find out, she decided, as she began to note that the silence of the start of her evening was beginning to fade wit the arrival of other attendees of this Winter Ball. And so it begins...

@Ace

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

THREAD THEME

A R Y T H M E T I K

He thought he would have been nervous. Trembling, even.


He thought he would have stumbled over his words, just an awkward fool from the College, a sop with no family failing to impress a King whom he did not even admire. He thought it might have been a disaster.


And yet, when Aryth gazed into the crowd from his place on the stage, he spotted the regal skull-crown of his companion, followed the ivory swath down to those mountain-grey eyes. He was transported to coziness, to security. Once more, they were merely in a lesson, the scholar teaching the vagabond about the glory of words. And after taking a deep breath, the poet began his chant. A voice as smooth as autumn honey, as rich as the rustle of leaves and determined as the winter evergreens, poured from his throat in rhythmic succession. Even if a hundred eyes were upon him, even if royal eyes were upon him, he only cared that one wolf was watching. Then he lost himself in the poem he’d practiced so hard to memorize.


Not that he didn’t recognize this moment as an honor. The Junior Professor was humble enough to realize that he didn’t belong here, that it was a total fluke he received this invitation. But he wasn’t really here to please King Adamh. He was here to see if the frivolity was all true, to make a fair judgment for himself. To determine if the royals really deserved to sit on that raised throne. Between recitals of his poem, Aryth would pause and take drinks, glancing around and watching the nobles closely. They probably thought he was staring at them in wonder. (And, to an extent, he was.) But his performance came to an end, and he and Grigori had already parted ways to explore the banquet for a while. So it was Aryth’s turn to interact with the guests.


The first to catch his eye was a striking woman, who moved through the crowd with graceful strokes. Like dancing through water. Her eyes, too, were the color of the river and their burning confidence enticed him. It wasn’t until they were only a few feet apart that Aryth realized he’d been walking toward her as he meandered, staring through his willow-and-birch bark mask. Strips of thin wood furled from the edges of faded, golden glasses, while fragrant willow twigs arched upward from his forehead in the shape of antlers. The dented gold and holly sprig in the corner of his mask brought out the shimmering, emerald green of his eyes. But his mask was nothing compared to this woman’s artful use of seashells. “Hi there,” Aryth said warmly. Perhaps even a bit apologetically. His voice was calm and inviting as he continued, “I couldn’t help but admire your adornments from afar. You’re glittering like the ocean itself.” The scholar meant it as a compliment, but not flirtatiously in the least. He wasn’t aware it could easily be interpreted as a pickup line.

code by claerie

@Nimue

R

ather than turning away from the arrivals in order to play coy like so many wallflowers found themselves doing, Nimue stared onward into the many decorated faces of the evening. She admired many a mask that not only complimented their features for the most part, but also also provided her the briefest glimpse of their personalities and backgrounds.

She found herself lost in the enjoyment of observing the social interactions unfold amongst the mingling wolves while she weaved through the main congregation. Nimue had paused to take in a particularly interesting chat between an awkward suitor and a clearly disinterested individual when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Lifting her head and turning her attention in that direction, the brewing storm of her blue orbs landed upon a gentleman making his way towards her.

Her gaze remained cold and unreadable as it fixated on him while mentally preparing herself for whatever exchange she was about to be involved with. Her sharp gaze scrutinized the craftsmanship of the brute's mask, brows raising slightly as she found herself impressed by the work of art he donned upon his countenance. Quite an intricate piece and one she attempted to derive the origins from, unsure of where he might hail. She suspected the Fae Forest, but could not be certain until they began to conversate.

Oh, but this was no ordinary stranger. All he had to do was greet her and she instantly recognized the inflection of his voice from her first visit to Castle Stuart. Ah, yes...the poet... Nimue remained composed in appearance, but on the inside she was wildly amused by his approach. She gave him a curt nod in response to his compliment, allowing the corners of her mouth to curve upward in a small smile.

"Your compliment is humbly accepted." She responded with a bit of spice before she gestured with her nose to his own adornment. "Likewise, I find your accessory to be a lovely aesthetic. It brings out your eyes quite nicely. I hope you're finding an admirer or two within the crowd as well." She offered him a playful wink, glancing out into the number that had gathered now. "So, tell me, Poet, what name do they call you?"

@Arythmetik

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

A R Y T H M E T I K

She was a sharp woman: composed, courteous, conversive. There was something about her demeanor that struck Aryth as starkly different from most of the wolves he knew in the College. He could veritably see the thoughts swirling behind her steady gaze. But he doubted she was thinking about lessons or medicine. When she complimented him in return, his responding smile was a touch flustered. “Oh,” he thrummed, glancing awkwardly toward the crowd, “I don’t know about that.” Immediately, Grigori’s misty-mountain sprung to his mind’s eye. The cowboy was the only one who complimented him so far (aside from this keen woman, of course). But Aryth doubted he had any admirers. Romance wasn’t exactly his strong suit. The scholar’s eyes, shimmering like gems, quickly returned to his counterpart’s lovely facade.


“My name’s Arythmetik. Professor of the College, at your service.” The russet male bowed his head politely, his voice warm like an early autumn afternoon. “But please, call me Aryth.” There was a playfulness in his aura now, as well. He was here to socialize, and to learn what he could about the Ball. How many hours, how much currency, was spent to make this happen? Was it wasteful, or generous? The scholar found he was impressed by his new acquaintance and he wanted to learn more about her, as well. “And what’s your name, my artistic and well-spoken friend?”

code by claerie

@Nimue

S

o the poet was humble, dismissing her compliment ever so slightly. Ah, but then he at least bestowed upon her a name by which she could call him as he dipped his head. Her eyes glinted to discover he had other talents aside from being able to conjure up honeyed words to create the art of spoken word.

"A Poet and a Professor? My, I did not realize I was in the presence of one so learned." Nimue had lifted a paw to her chest in a show of feigned surprise, although she truly found herself impressed. And a College? She'd not yet heard of such a place and it piqued her curiosity. "Well met, Aryth."

"I am Nimue Ó Saoirse, good sir. If you so choose, you can call me Nim. Shortening names seems to be all the craze these days." The storm sorceress returned the gesture of the bow and when she returned to her normal height, there was no doubt a twinkle in her eye to mirror his.

She allowed herself to relax into a seated position, finding that she was comfortable in his presence now that they had exchanged introductions. "What is it that you teach, Aryth? And might you enlighten me on 'The College'. You speak of it with the assumption I know of sucha place."

@Arythmetik

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

A R Y T H M E T I K

Aryth laughed lightly, his tail flopping on the ground behind him as he, too, took a seat. There was something intimidating about her suave replies. Surely charisma could be used as a weapon in the wrong paws. Or was she just the right woman to wield such power? He had to admit, he was enchanted by her name. ‘Nimue’ sounded familiar to the scholar, although he couldn’t place why; it reminded him of legends and mystery, purity and sorcery alike. His smile twitched foolishly as he repeated, “Nimue. A gorgeous name. But Nim is excellent, too.” The male’s eyes were bright and friendly throughout their pleasantries. (Despite the fact, of course, that he sensed secrets beneath her glossy, sparkling surface.)


However, Aryth was wholly distracted by the fact she didn’t know the College. He blinked, then bowed his head once more. “Losh, forgive me! I grew up in the Arboretum, so my bias leads me to believe everyone already knows.” He chuckled in embarrassment. “The College is supported by the kingdom’s taxes, a place where all wolves can come for help and healing. Typically, wolves apply to become students of medicine. I myself have taught several herbology and applied medicine courses.” Aryth winked and added, “But I must admit, I’d rather teach something more exciting.” He paused, tilting his head. “If you don’t mind my asking, Ms. Nim, what part of Rionnach do you hail from?”

code by claerie

@Nimue

T

he trace of a smile on her lips broadened with his compliment. “Our mothers had great taste. Call me what you’d like, I just know some to prefer to shorten the syllables on their tongue.” Nimue’s slender shoulders lifted in a small shrug. Truly, it made no difference to her what he chose to call her. He was the one with the gift of weaving words.

His swift reaction to her lack of knowledge on the school at which he taught was amusing and she found herself chuckling along with him. There was a glint of lightning in those eyes consumed by storm as the explanation of ‘The College’ struck her interest. Nimue hummed to herself as she began to imagine what it might be like to be a student absorbing the teachings of others when it came to herbs and remedies.

“Mmm…and how might one enroll? It is not too costly is it? I’m all for gaining knowledge for my own pleasure, though not if I need to sell my soul in exchange.” Her added humor was dry seeing as there was a hint of truth behind it.

Her ears perked to the question that followed, one she had not yet been asked. She found her memories moving in reverse to capture her childhood in order to appropriately answer. “My mother, rest her soul, and father, may his eternally burn…” Her face darkened, lip curling in mild disgust at even the mention. “…raised me in an estate that was nestled just as the river from Mirror Lake splits in three. I grew up on the edge of Yorkshire proper if we want to get technical, though I spent much of my youth around Redwood, the lake, and Melrose in the Lowlands just North.”

Her gaze had wandered to the crowd as she spoke and then it returned to meet Aryth’s. “And what of you? To what region would you give credit for your happy childhood?”

@Arythmetik

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

A R Y T H M E T I K

It was always reassuring when someone took an interest in the College. After a year of war and rebellion, Aryth worried that the wolves of Rionnach no longer had time for pursuit of knowledge. He’d heard some wolves call reading ‘frivolous.’ Of course he paid such foolishness no heed. But it was still refreshing to see someone perk up when he discussed learning. Her comment did make him laugh, albeit a smidge uncomfortably, and he shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Although one might find one’s soul quite taken with the Arboretum, anyway. Students are only expected to serve occasional hours in the clinic or contribute food for tuition.”


The Junior Professor did hope that Nimue would spread the College’s good name to others. She seemed like the kind of wolf who knew people. In response to his question, the fierce and lovely woman divulged a piece of her history. Aryth’s ears twitched backward at the venom in her voice when she mentioned her father. He hadn’t meant to bring up unwanted memories, but it didn’t stop her, as she revealed something he’d already suspected: she was born a noblewoman. Now he was even more embarrassed. The russet scholar tried his best not to show it; in fact, his well-carved mask probably hid the fact that his eyes widened before he regained his composure. Before he could comment, she asked him about his own childhood.


“Oh, well,” he said haltingly, “I’m from Melrose myself. I was raised in the College, actually.” The male cleared his throat and continued in a smoother, warmer tone more typical of his good nature, “I scarcely left the Arboretum until I was a yearling. Only went on a couple jaunty trips for festivals with the professors. It’s a wonder we didn’t run into each other before, if you spent time in Melrose.” It wasn’t, actually. He was just trying to be polite. Nimue was a noblewoman, and he was a peasant without a family name.


But he certainly wasn’t going to spoil the conversation by admitting that.

code by claerie

@Nimue Oh if only he knew XD

N

imue’s attention honed in on the requirements for entry into the College’s ranks, her eyes pinned on him while she nodded, taking note of what was needed. To her great relief, as there was no mention of coin to be dealt with for admission. Only devoted hours and donations of food? That hardly sounded realistic to her and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, though a part of her hoped that it was the truth.

“That’s all then?” She asked, the tidal waves of deep blue shining with puzzlement. Although, she’d known him briefly, she did not feel that he was the type to lie. His energy was kind and most refreshing among the rest of the attendants of the Winter Ball. “Hmm…then, perhaps I might…pursue a visit to the grounds and this…Arboretum.” She mused out loud, seeking the natural green of his irises. “Might I ask for you by name there when I do? I’d love to know the College through your point of view.”

Nimue felt the slightest hint of a shift in his demeanor at the mention of her history, though she did not show that it was noticed. She smiled to know that he was keene to the lands of Melrose and more so to the school grounds themselves, having grown up there. “So the College is an old friend, hm?” It was interesting to know of the festivals he’d gone to, having been presented the opportunity to enjoy them rarely as a child. “‘Tis a shame we had not met as children. I’m sure we would’ve roamed the school grounds together if we had. It’s no wonder my father kept it from me…I might’ve run away had I known!”


@Arythmetik

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

A R Y T H M E T I K

Arythmetik smiled in somber fashion. “If it had required any other form of payment, I wouldn’t have been able to attend.” There it was. He hadn’t stated it outright, but he was a penniless orphan. A small (ingrained) part of Aryth worried that admitting his status would cut their conversation short. It was as though he forgot he was personally invited by the King to attend this banquet. And he was on his way to becoming a full-fledged professor. His social status was changing, not that such things mattered to him. And yet, the greater part of Aryth had faith that Nimue wouldn’t brush him off. She was too sharp and classy to do something like that. He simply didn’t want to dampen the conversation.


As she continued, his eyes brightened and his smile widened invitingly. “Of course,” he thrummed, his tail wagging once. “I’d be honored to give you a tour, Nimue.” It took effort not to call her Lady Nimue. But that’s not how she introduced herself, so Aryth made sure to avoid any faux-pas. He laughed good-naturedly and nodded. It was rare for nobles to join the ranks of the College. First of all, there was no need: they had plenty of resources and food as it was. Often, members of the College were sent to estates to care for medical needs. But it wasn’t unheard of for wolves to abandon their lineage for the simpler life of academia. “I could have used someone to get me into more trouble!” Aryth laughed, winking in spite of himself. “There were never any other children my age in the Arboretum. Well, unless they were sick, anyway.”


He paused thoughtfully, glancing toward the nobles that gathered by the throne. “But here we are now...two walks of life at the same Ball.” He was testing. Subtle. Gentle. What did this clever, charismatic woman think of this banquet, anyway? Did she think it was all for show?

code by claerie

@Nimue