Cute Feeshes

Misericorde settles her fire-bright gaze upon you as she steps through the garden. Wordlessly, she
moves to stand by his side, her hands settling behind her back and her attention turning to the
reflecting pond. A soft exhale from the gills at her ribs fills the air briefly before she greets in
a low voice, "Avaris."

The steady regard of the light-forged eyes of Avaris's folded wings await
Misericorde's arrival, as if the merian's presence is expected. Standing, as appears to be his wont,
before the pond, hands clasped at the base of his back, the kephera lowers his chin in a courteous
nod of greeting. The layered, resonating harmony of his many voices are quiet as he replies, evenly,
"Misericorde."

Misericorde merely stands silent for a time, the susurration of her tentacles oddly loud and
certainly more erratic than normal. Her voice cold, and level, she utters, "It was my urging that
saw the little traitor removed from the city." A muscle in her cheek tightens briefly. "Thank you
for your help in freeing the Sculptor."

In contrast, Avaris is as motionless as a statue, with even the deep red lines of
his antennae remaining still. At Misericorde's statement, however, the larger of broad crimson
streaks curls in a manner oddly reminiscent of a brow arching as the expressionless visor of the
kephera's face turns to study the merian. "It is...Displeasing that it took any urging at all, but
nonetheless. Well done for speaking up." The glinting spears of chitin that thrust up from his right
shoulder gleam as he lifts it in a slight shrug, the motion stirring the shimmering tufts of his
mane. "It was the right thing to do." The thrumming tone of his voices grows harder, cold edges
slipping within them as he says, "Avoidable entirely, were She dealt with before She became a
threat. Regrettable."

Misericorde answers lowly, "Entirely displeasing." Her eyes are kept steadily ahead upon the
reflecting pond before them, and with an absent shift of her weight, unclasps her hands and lightly
touches the aspergillum at her hip. "Firmness won. Rising in passion would have accomplished
nothing." The merian gives a little nod of acknowledgement, agreement, at the assessment of the
unnamed Divine. "But She is now a threat no longer. Despite the damage done." For the first time her
gaze casts askance and up as she states more than asks, "This is your first Ascension."

A deep, vibrating tone of echoed displeasure shivers forth from Avaris's throat as
he returns his regard to the calm waters, reflected in the seven spheres of solid blue that form his
natural eyes. "We could do with more firmness. Perhaps this will open their eyes to how dangerous
their weakness is." Withdrawing his lower right hand from beneath the cloak of his wings, he turns
it aside, claws glittering. "Yet I doubt it." To the mention of the Ascension, he dips his chin in
confirmation, antennae flicking towards Misericorde. "Indeed. Not my last, if patterns hold. What
should I know, to be prepared?"

Misericorde exhales deeply, the material of her dress fluttering at her sides. "Yes, I doubt it
too." she murmurs, more to herself than you. Her head cocks slightly more to the side as she
continues to regard the kephera, her expression turning minutely thoughtful. "Expect chaos," she
states with a shrug of her slender shoulders. "The last Ascension saw Gaudiguch break away in favour
of Magnagora, and Hallifax joined our alliance. If you choose to compete you may be against the
entire alliance backing an entirely different person, or they may aide you. It's impossible to
tell." Her chin tipping upwards to fully hold your gaze she continues with the barest hint of a
smile, "Keep your head down and you'll likely survive."

The curved blades of Avaris's fingers drift into the pristine white fluff of his
voluminous ruff, grasping at the gleaming tufts and toying with them idly as he listens intently to
Misericorde. The opposite, upper hand rises to flick aside in a dismissive gesture, the gold of his
chitin moving in a glittering arc. "I have no intention of competing. I will focus upon my Lady, and
let more worthy individuals step forth." The response is free of rancor, delivered in a calm, even
manner. "What of yourself? Will you take up the challenge?"

Misericorde allows her gaze to slip away from your face, her expression briefly distant and amused,
before she shakes her head and seems to come back to herself once more. "No?" She murmurs
thoughtfully at the kepheran's intentions. She quirks her head faintly, the susurrations momentarily
loud, and she says a touch slyly, "Beauty. I have a placing to defend."

Alabaster jaw gleaming as he shakes his head in a small negative, Avaris's mien is
benignly indifferent as he says, "Not unless my Lady wishes it, for some reason. I do not foresee
such being the case, however." The broad, sanguine curves of his antennae coil in surprise as
several of the lambent eyes of his plumage shift to Misericorde. "Truly? I suppose that is fitting,
given your Lady's Circle." Genuine interest suffuses his voice as his stance turns slightly towards
Misericorde, asking, "What did you make?"

Misericorde gives a curt nod. "Second place. It was an honour to lose to Jolanthe, though. Her
design was beautiful." Her hands lifts as she speaks, making a vague outline as to dimensions as she
answers, "A paper lantern of a dragon riddled with silver cracks from its strain against Time."
Glancing up she says, "I'm sure I could find it somewhere, if you were truly curious to see it."

A gentle approval suffuses Avaris's resonating words as he says, "That is a very
fine attitude to have." A low, thoughtful hum trembles in the air for a time as the kephera
considers the response, the angle of his jaw drifting askew, as if he is attempting to picture such
a thing. "I would be most honoured to witness it, if that would not be a trouble for you, sometime."

Misericorde looks thoughtful once more, her fingertips tracing the driftwood surface of her
aspergillum before she pulls sheets of vellum from her purse.

With expert precision, Misericorde assembles a translucent dragon lantern veined with silver cracks
from a pile of vellum laid before her.

Misericorde gives a translucent dragon lantern veined with silver cracks to you.

Misericorde offers an amused little laugh, her hands splaying outwards to display her palms as she
utters a soft, 'Ta da!' in an overexaggerated manner.

Misericorde makes a little motion with her hands towards the lantern as she utters, "You can release
it once you're done."

Holding the lantern with the very tips of his claws in a manner that suggest he is
handling something wrought from spun glass, Avaris carefully turns the item about as he examines it
with evident fascination. The immobile visor of his face points down as he does so, causing the
lantern to be reflected sevenfold within the azure of his gaze. With a voice that is bright with
earnest sincerity, he enthuses, "This is splendid, Misericorde! It is little wonder you placed. Your
Lady must have been very proud of you."

The delicate wooden framework of this sky lantern upholds the majestic
figure of a Mature Dragon balanced on the span of its wide, sinuous
tail; panels of glassine paper stretched between the lattices ripple
with iridescence, as if the votive were not quite in phase with time.
Its wings raised at the apex of a beat, the dragon's broad shoulders
give way to a serpentine neck arched high, its innate superiority at
odds with an expression that conveys an equal measure of resigned
acceptance and determination of its fate. From the dragon's heart spread
skeins of silver, riddling its body with spidery cracks that glimmer and
glisten from any brush of light. A small hole just beneath the wings
allows for a piece of tinder to light the candle suspended within this
paperwork creation.

Rising in the pursuit of its Yugomaru, a translucent dragon lantern catches flame from the inside
out, burning until all that remain of its false Quickening are skeins of silvery smoke.

As a translucent dragon lantern veined with silver cracks drifts away, it grows smaller and smaller
on the horizon until you see naught but a speck of light floating in the distance.

Avaris tilts his head up to follow the rising lantern, a soft sigh of appreciative
wonder hissing shivering forth from beneath his faceplate. Bringing all four of his massive hands
together, he applauds in a short burst of sharp, metallic sound, nodding. "Lovely. Simply lovely."

Misericorde smiles faintly, her head nodding as she answers in a fond, warm timbre, "Yes. She was
very pleased with my work - I was honoured She took such notice." Her head tips up as she watches
the lantern's ascent, a low hum of approval sounding at the back of her throat. Curiosity suddenly
colouring her expression she asks, "Do you craft, Avaris?"

A brief, thrumming laugh bursts free from Avaris at the question, as he turns his
hands palm-out to Misericorde in a demonstrative fashion. "With these hands? No. I am not suited to
creation. I am better at breaking, alas." Shrugging, he continues, "I have considered forging, or
learning to craft jewelery, but I do not know."

Misericorde snorts sharply, her attention shifting wholly to you as she answers bluntly, "Then find
something that will not break beneath you, if you desire to create." Her dark hand lights to lightly
tap the carapace upon the back of your hand for emphasis. "A frivolous excuse if I've ever heard
one," she scolds with a lilt of mirth to her voice.

Flexing the long, bladed digits of the hand that Misericorde's hand touches, Avaris
tips his head aside in a slight motion. "Someday, perhaps. I do not think I have the affinity for
it, as others seem to." Lowering his hand to his side, he returns his attention to the pond, musing,
"I would say that there is little point in my seeking to create something, when so many others do
so, but I expect that would win me an admonition. Something about how each person has something
unique to create, I imagine?"

Misericorde admits with a nod, "Not everyone is suited to it, nor finds joy in creating." A truly
mischievous expression touches her dark features for a bare second before it is banished. In a
light, indifferent voice she answers, "Oh, no. You may be truly horrible at it and what a blight
that would be to see."

The sole indication that Avaris is anything other than entirely serious is the
glimmer of sparkling pinpricks of light that dance merrily in his eyes as he inclines his head
gravely. "Truly, your Lady would recoil in horror at the monstrosities that my brutish hands would
spawn." Lifting a clawed finger, he taps it thoughtfully against the tip of his chin, musing,
"Perhaps if there was a Seal of Ugly. A Seal of Sins Against Aesthetics."

Misericorde hums as she tries out, "A Seal of Atrocities? A Seal of Terrorism Against Nature?"
Seeming unable to help herself, her head tips back and a sharp laugh spills from her lips, mirth
shining in her eyes. Reaching out, she lightly takes one of your lower hands into her own and
applies a gentle pressure, the barest hint of a smile touching her lips before it is banished. She
inclines her head subtly, her hands withdrawing from your as she murmurs, "Thank you for the laugh."

The glittering motes of light within Avaris's eyes grow both in density and
luminosity at Misericorde's laugh, the kephera's antennae undulating in pleased rippling motions. As
the merian takes his hand, there is the slightest moment of resistance, as if he hesitates, then
decides against it. Even so, he holds his hand very carefully still the entire duration of the
contact, returning the incline in kind. "Thank you for what I suspect is a rare privilege."

Niralahi enters from the northwest amid swirling motes of warmly glowing golden light.

Niralahi curtseys gracefully.


Misericorde hums a soft note at you, her eyes soon widening at the sight of her wife. "Niralahi,"
she exhales warmly, her arms lifting as she moves to stand beside Niralahi and embrace her tightly
for a beat, the kiss returned to the other's cheek fluidly. "Much lovelier in person," she murmurs
fondly.

Moving almost automatically, Niralahi wraps an arm about Misericorde's waist to return the embrace,
before she turns toward you and flashes a diffident, almost bashful smile. "Greetings to both of
you. I do hope I'm not intruding on your conversation, but I did start to worry about you," and at
this point she looks back at Misericorde, "after you said you were feeling so tired and upset."

Niralahi adds as an aside to you with a soft chuckle, "It is good to see you again, and especially
to see you standing beside the pond instead of imperceivably flying above it this time."

Avaris inclines his head to Niralahi in a courteous fashion, the resonance of his
voice pleasant as he greets her with, "A good afternoon to you, Niralahi. It is good to see you once
more." Lifting a massive hand, he passes it aside in a gentle arc of gleaming gold, shaking his head
slightly. "Not at all. You are ever welcome in my presence, as I am sure you are in your good
wife's." He lapses into silence for a moment, a touch awkwardly, and offers, "I could depart, and
give you some privacy, if you are...Indisposed in such a fashion?"

Looking toward Misericorde for a moment, Niralahi pauses and then shakes her head at you. "If your
presence hasn't been unpleasant or abrasive for her already, I doubt you need to retire, unless you
wish to. I know that you two must find a great deal of solace in being each other's kindred spirits
in terms of zeal and strong emotions," she adds with a faint, wry curl of the corners of her lips.

Misericorde moves to Niralahi's side, her arm easily slipping around her wife's to link their arms
comfortably together. "You're quite welcome," she murmurs to Niralahi, and then to you with a faint
wrinkling of her nose, "As are you. Do not depart simply because I was greeting my starlight." She
then blinks once at Niralahi's words, and snorts as she scolds, "I'm quite composed, thank you."

The lower pair of Avaris's hand draw together, the cruel tips clacking together
lightly as he taps them against one another repeatedly, the motion uncertain. "Ah." He stands there
for a long moment, fairly radiating awkwardness, then dips his head in a nod. "Well. Alright. If you
are certain that my remaining is not an imposition." Clearing his throat in an oddly melodic sound,
he extends his left hand to Niralahi, fingers splaying as he ventures, "Your good wife showed me the
lantern that won her a place in a previous Beauty contest. It is marvelous. You must be very proud
of her."

"Oh, the sky lantern!" Niralahi exclaims, breaking into a beaming smile of pride. "Yes, it was a
wonderful creation, a triumph in simplicity and subtle storytelling over the works of convoluted
complexity that many would-be artists would attempt to pass off as Beauty. If more artists could
understand the sheer perfection of of the simple curve of a cresting wave...or of a dragon riddled
with mystical cracks from its transformation...the world would certainly be a more aesthetically
pleasing place."

Misericorde mouth hangs open momentarily, her features blushing with a deep indigo undertone at
Niralahi's words, before she clears her throat and glances away. "Flattery will get you everywhere,"
she scolds her wife with an amused, if embarrassed, timbre.

Niralahi waves a hand airily, dismissing Misericorde's comment entirely. "Oh no, I merely express my
perspective the way I view it, that is all. It was a lovely work of art, and I was very happy that I
got to see it before the rest of the Basin did!" She cannot entirely hide her smirk at the sight of
Misericorde's blush, though, nor the faint self-satisfied raising of her chin.

The wisps of condensation in the sky spread slightly as a few light clouds develop.

Listening to Niralahi's effusive praise in the polite, curious manner of one who
does not, precisely, entirely grasp what is being said, Avaris nods along, responding with a soft,
"Ah," as if the matter has been thoroughly illuminated. "Quite so." Several of the glowing eyes upon
his wings slide over to Misericorde, studying the flush of the merian's cheeks. He makes no comment
upon such, though his antennae ripple briefly as the azure spheres of his eyes sparkle with light.
Looking between the two, he pronounces, gently, "The two of you love each other very much. I am very
happy for you both."

Looking slightly taken aback by your straightforwardness, Niralahi opens and closes her mouth a few
times before finally giving a nod of agreement. "Yes, I suppose so. Though I think normally we are
more reserved than this," she adds, glancing sidelong at Misericorde with a wry chuckle. "Perhaps
there is something inherently about your presence that is inherently soothing or calming enough for
both of us to not feel as though we must put up our guard around you."

Looking embarrassed, Niralahi Coldwater says, "Very much inherently, yes. So very inherently."

Misericorde wrinkles her nose faintly at Niralahi, the action playful more than scolding. Her
attention then shifts back to you, a ghost of a smile touching her lips, and she answers, "Thank
you." She leans her head to the side, resting her cheek momentarily against Niralahi's. Teasingly,
she murmurs, "Yes, yes. He's just seen me laugh - he may as well find out I smile on the rare
occasion and deeply love my wife."

Avaris's reaction to Niralahi's explanation is to stare at her in prolonged,
faintly perplexed silence. He remains thus for a time, somehow managing to visibly convey that he is
trying and failing to process the notion of any inherent calming effect he may possess. Eventually,
a faint tinge of pink seeps into the countless markings of his wings, and he nods. Then nods again,
clearing his throat. "Ah. Perhaps. I find it is typically the opposite, in truth." He turns to the
pond, gesturing at it, and suggests, "Perhaps it is the location..?"

Misericorde glances askance to Niralahi before making an absent motion with her hand as she retorts
to you, "I do enjoy your company."

"You've never laughed in front of him before?" Niralahi asks Misericorde incredulously. "Or smiled?
Oh, my. Oh, my." She shakes her head wonderingly to herself and then turns back to you with a small
shrug. "I suppose I could see you being rather more intimidating than soothing to many people at
first. I would likely have felt the same way, if Misericorde and Falaine had not spoken of you in
such friendly terms. But what a surprise I must have been to you at first, compared to Misericorde,
if she never smiled and then I tried to approach you with candied meringue in hand."

Misericorde snaps with decided embarrassment, "Well I have now, thank you very much!"

"Likewise," Avaris replies easily to Misericorde, though his attention turns to
Niralahi, to whom he shakes his head. "Faint smiles, only." Lifting his hand, he places forefinger
and thumb by one another, and then tweaks them up a tiny degree, slightly lopsided. "She tries very
hard to be mysterious and aloof. It is best not to be too charming or amusing, I think, and undo all
her efforts." The undercurrent of amusement in his choral voice persists as he remarks, "Oh, not
entirely. It is, in my estimation, quite common for such personalities as Misericorde's to be drawn
to the softer, warmer individuals. They provide the affection and brightness that they so crave."

"Even the deepest trenches of the ocean still shine with light at times," Niralahi retorts to
Misericorde, "even if it is only the glow of a predatory anglerfish. You couldn't have sustained
your unsmiling state in front of anyone forever, beloved."

Misericorde exhales sharply, the cloth at her ribs fluttering almost as violently as the tentacles
atop her head. "I'm being quite slandered today," she scowls out, the lilt of a laugh touching her
last spoken word. She murmurs softly to herself for a moment, and then states clearly, "I told the
Sculptor I would endeavor to not bottle my emotions as much and I have." She then glances back
towards the pond, a single tentacle from her head reaching out to lightly shove Niralahi's shoulder
a touch petulantly.

"Pfft! Unraveled, I think, not slandered," Niralahi protests, twisting to one side in an attempt to
dodge the light push of Misericorde's tentacle. "But perhaps we should be comporting ourselves with
more dignity than I have shown, or at least I should be," she admits, her tone faintly apologetic,
before clearing her throat. "I certainly would not wish to be mistaken for a romping youngster with
more high spirits than sense, I dare say."

Studying Misericorde for a time after the admission, Avaris slowly lowers his head
in acknowledgement, his tone growing more sober as he replies, "It is well that you abide by your
promises to your Lady." To Niralahi, he lifts a burnished hand up to wave it aside, dismissing the
notion. "Not at all. You are not acting without dignity or grace, and you should not relish the
opportunity to behave freely, when it arises."

Misericorde's fiery gaze slides from the pond to you, her brow arching minutely as curiosity touches
her expression. "I am Her's and She is mine - of course I would honor my pledges to her." She then
snorts, muttering almost incoherently in regards to Niralahi, "I would pay good gold to see you -
romp- of all things." She snorts at the thought. "Imagine."

You think to yourself: He replays the words over, as if examining something new and strange. "I am
Her's and She is mine." There is a fascination there, as he shifts his attention to his Lady,
intending to try out this sentiment within the privacy of his own mine - And stops short,
uncomfortable. "No. Too possessive, coming from myself, I think."

"I could totally romp, probably," Niralahi exclaims, before lapsing back into more thoughtful tones
and a more speculative, contemplative pose. "Perhaps. If I had to for some reason. Eventually. After
much studying. But for certain, this is not the month in which I will start doing so, as I am afraid
I must be departing to rest."

Misericorde stares at Niralahi incredulously as she fights not to smile. She chuckles lowly, leaning
over to press a kiss to Niralahi's cheek and admits, "I should rest too." Turning to you, her
expression softens minutely and she states, "It was a pleasure to speak with you - I hope we can
again soon."

A low, neutral sound emanates from Avaris's throat at Misericorde's statement, a
touch of cold, severe displeasure brushing against his words. "Would that such an attitude were so
common." The frost vanishes beneath the warmth of the couple's affectionate banter, which the
titanic kephera politely averts his gaze from - Though the eyes studded within the helm of his head
glitter with a quiet smile. "Ah, of course. Thank you both for your company. It has been a most
pleasant time." Inclining his head politely, he bids, choral voices warm, "Rest well, the both of
you. I hope that we can, as well."

Niralahi nods in agreement. "I hope all our paths may cross again soon, and hopefully in less
tempestuous times. Until then, yes, I hope you shall both be well. And thank you for giving me the
opportunity to enthuse about Misericorde's artistic abilities," she fails to resist adding as an
aside to you. "Please feel free to do so at any time, and ask about the throne she also designed, or
the many extravagances she created for our wedding, or anything else."

Niralahi curtseys gracefully before you.