a pair of gloves: Calliope

A stone bridge.
The shadows violently writhe and twist along the ground here, indicating a war shrine of Nocht nearby. Small particles of dust fly through the air, caught up in a moderate gale. This small bridge provides a crossing point over the Glomdoring River. Constructed of grey stone, its edges are built up to form a low wall, whilst the centre is a well-trod path from south to north. Small symbols of birds and stars are carved deeply into the stone, some barely visible below the lichen and moss, others still clear and vibrant. Along the river, it is possible to see some distance to the west and northeast, as the ashes and willows drop back from the murky waters. To the south, a dirt track leads away into a dense ash forest, whilst the way to the north is dark and shadowy, bordered by blackened, twisted trees. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. A solstice stocking has been hung here. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air.
You see exits leading south and northwest.

Something moves within the murky waters smoothly, barely making any ripples. The water rises noticeably beneath the passage of whatever it is that is hiding beneath the waters of the river.

The pointed tips of your ears twitch to hear an errant sound.

You have emoted: Esei peers down at the water, eyes narrowed.

As you focus your hearing, the sound of something moving under the bridge reaches you.

You murmur softly to yourself.

Under the bridge.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. Small particles of dust fly through the air, caught up in a moderate gale. The swift river runs underneath a stone bridge from east to southwest. The bridge itself has been constructed from many grey rocks, now coated in a layer of dank slime and moss. Drips fall constantly from above, splashing down into the river below with great ripples. Although it is dark beneath the structure, it is still possible to make out carvings and etchings on the bricks. Some are faded names and dates, no longer legible; others are swirling spiral patterns and detailed pictures. Cradled by deep green leaves, an amaranthine night lotus floats here along the surface of the waters.
You see exits leading east and southwest.

You furrow your brow in thought.

A splash resounds from behind you as Calliope, the indulgent nereid reveals herself from the murky waters and jovially exclaims, "Hello!"

You have emoted: Esei whirls around, lifting their athame as if to strike before registering Calliope, the indulgent nereid. They let out a little sigh, dropping their hand. "...hello."

LOOK CALLIOPE
Enveloped in lush curls of fireweed crimson darkening to the finest wine, this nereid is a striking sight with her midnight skin glowing with an inner twilit radiance and pale eyes the colour of coral roses. The lower half of her body forms a luxurious piscine tail of iridescent midnight scales flaring into rosetail fins that cascade about her like the ruffled train of a decadent gown. Scarlet mingles with midnight blues upon her fins in equal measure, bewitching with a palette reminiscent of a crimson sunset sinking into twilight's embrace. Her purple lips are puckered into a pout, notes of a nocturne escaping them with every exhale, and her lidded eyes hunger for entertainment and new experiences to dispel her boredom.
Calliope, the indulgent nereid looks to be crushingly strong.

Tail splashing in the waters this way and that, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "Been expecting someone else?"

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "Should I be?"

You wave your hand dismissively.

Pouting and flipping her hair, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "No, you should only ever be expecting me, naturally."

You have emoted: Esei gives Calliope, the indulgent nereid an unimpressed look. "Do you need something of me?"

Calliope, the indulgent nereid's tail twitches idly in the waters, betraying her uncertainty. "No... yes," she says and sinks into the waters a little, only the top part of her face showing and the rest hidden within the murk.

You have emoted: "I see..." Esei crosses their arms and lifts a brow. "Continue, then."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid raises above waters a little again and adds, "You would think there should be an underwater shopping complex, unfortunately there isn't. And I need... something."

You tilt your head inquisitively.

With a pout, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "I am not really good at... making things like Oinone is. And I need a pair of gloves."

Emphasizing, Calliope, the indulgent nereid exclaims, "Colourful, colourful gloves!"

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "Why?"

Calliope, the indulgent nereid splashes the end of her tail against the waters and returns petulantly, "Because!" Despite her arrogance, she bites down on her lip and shifts a little this way and that.

You have emoted: Esei's tail twitches in turn as they twist to pace a few steps towards the lotus growing here. "Why me, then?"

With an air of nonchalance, as if she were explaining the obvious, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "You cannot ask the same people for favours endlessly, eventually they will want something in return."

Dryly, you whisper, "I see."

Coral rose eyes fixed on the athame, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "And you did not stab me when you last had a chance."

You murmur softly to yourself.

Looking up from the athame, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "Are you going to now?"

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "Do not tempt me, and I won't."

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "You said colorful gloves, yes?"

Calliope, the indulgent nereid sinks into the waters all the way to her nose immediately at the threat. Her large coral-hued eyes watch you calculatingly for a while, bubbles escaping from beneath the water as she murmurs something to herself. Finally, she emerges again and eagerly explains, "Colourful, yes! Nereids love colourful things, surely other fae do too, right?"

Calliope, the indulgent nereid plays with the strands of her wet hair as she ponders her own query. "Cannot be much different from nereids," she surmises to herself, "Fae is fae."

You have emoted: Esei lets out a little hum. "Are you comfortable leaving the waters? I am afraid the tailoring bench is a few stories up the Black Tower."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid collapses the top of her body against the bank dramatically, arms outstretched. "Woe... so much dry ground involved when dealing with non nereids," she whines.

Deadpan, you whisper, "I could carry you, but I am not sure you'd like it."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid opens her mouth as if to say something, but pauses.

Calliope, the indulgent nereid gathers herself back up and makes a spinning motion with her hand, creating a sphere of water around herself as she rises ever higher. At last, she is floating within a churning ball of murky water from the river.

Calliope, the indulgent nereid begins to follow you.

You hum thoughtfully.

The Threads of the Raven.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. This spacious room is dramatically decorated with sweeping black velvet curtains covering a bay window, and chairs upholstered in crushed red velvet behind the large workbench. Lavish tapestries cover the walls, displaying the talent of the artists more than any actual scenes, which are more often than not images of crows. Prominently in this tailoring workshop rests a bench that holds an assortment of tools for sewing, haberdashery and cobbling. Enchanting notes of a twilit nocturne drift from Calliope's lips absently as she lounges here idly.
You see a single exit leading north.

You have emoted: Esei opens an ebon catalogue of the night sky, dark eyes skimming over the various entries.

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "You say these are... for another fae, is that it?"

Calliope, the indulgent nereid floats about the room, touching absolutely everything and making it damp in equal measure.

You glance askance.

Calliope, the indulgent nereid looks away from the black curtains she is squeezing in her hands, testing the fabric. "Oh yes," she replies, "For a naiad. We can't be so different and I heard she likes gifts too."

You have emoted: Slowly looking up from the catalogue, Esei muses, "A naiad..."

To no one in particular, as she testes how far she can open the curtain, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "They call her "of the White Hands". Sounds dreadfully drab, don't you think?"

Turning a page in the catalogue, you whisper, "I would hardly know... How do silk gloves of canary yellow and mint green sound?"

Calliope, the indulgent nereid struggles with the curtain for a moment, opening and closing it in turn. Closed, the room is rather dark. Open, the room is rather dark too for the eve has fallen beyond the bay window.

Listening again, Calliope, the indulgent nereid exclaims, "They sounds positively piscine, like colourful fish in a lagoon!"

Floating over closer in her sphere, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "If you were making a gift to a fae in your woods, would you choose similar colours?"

You have emoted: Esei appears utterly unbothered by the varying levels of darkness, adjusting their hold on the catalogue. "...not in particular. Given that the fae here are..." They pause, glancing over to Calliope, the indulgent nereid. "The slaugh, the barghests, the redcaps. And a korrigan, as well."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid looks around pointedly at the dark decor. "Is this the kind of aesthetic they would enjoy?"

Thinking out loud, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "Should I get her some black gloves? I really need her to agree to the favour..."

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "I would say generally... though the slaugh cousins might also enjoy something that glimmers and gleams."

You have emoted: Esei's fingers lift to brush briefly against the circlet upon their brow. "Perhaps I can sew one of each, and see how you find them."

At the sound of that, Calliope, the indulgent nereid's eyes widen and she exhales dreamily, "Gleams..."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid nods eagerly.

You carefully cut, assemble, and stitch together a snug pair of ebony riding gloves.
You carefully cut, assemble, and stitch together lace mint green and canary yellow gloves.

You display a snug pair of ebony riding gloves for all in the room to see:
Exquisitely tailored of thin ebony leather, these riding gloves are made
to hug the fingers and allow flexibility. Lined inside with soft suede,
they button closed at the wrist, edged around the bottom with a band of
embroidery in black depicting two thorned vines that twist around one
another.

You display lace mint green and canary yellow gloves for all in the room to see:
Made from silk these lace gloves are patterned with the different phases
of the moon. One is canary yellow and the other is mint green, each has
a pearl button at the wrist.

Calliope, the indulgent nereid looks over your shoulder as you work, droplets of river water splattering your attire from her sphere of roiling water.

Calliope, the indulgent nereid exclaims, "They're perfect!"

Examining the gloves carefully, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "I am sure she will like the colourful ones better. I suppose if she is peculiar, perhaps the black ones. But covering white hands? Critical."

To herself, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "That must be why they call her that, it's an insult."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid pulls on the lace mint green and canary yellow gloves onto her own hands, getting them slightly wet in the process. She admires the stitching for a moment and then pulls them off again.

Posing with each set, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "What do you think? Mint and yellow, or black?"

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "Without being able to see the person they are to be worn by, it is hard to say."

Ponderously, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "Have you ever been to the Serenwilde?"

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "Once or twice. I am not welcome there, for obvious reasons."

Tilting her head, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "Because you're so quick with your athame?"

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "I am of the Glomdoring. We are not welcome there, regardless of brandings or status."

Shifting in her bubble, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "Fae is fae. Why is forest not forest?"

Calliope, the indulgent nereid shrugs her shoulders and tosses her hair, as if that were to make her point for her.

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "The Wyrd, of course. They see it as... corrupted."

Scowling, Calliope, the indulgent nereid exclaims, "And who made them judges of nature? Bit dark in here, perhaps could update upholstery, but otherwise seems fine to me!"

Dreamily, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "They must have never been in a murky lagoon, deep beneath the waters, so isolated and dangerous. It is magnificent."

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "The Wyrd is... transformative. They find it hideous, if not terrifying."

Her mood suddenly plummeting as if a bucket of water has been pour over her, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "Oh... they do not believe in the power of transformation? They prefer things to always be the same?"

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "Oh, something like that. I'm sure they would argue otherwise."

You have emoted: Esei strides to the window, pulling on the curtain to fully display the dark forest. "All that was here was transformed by the Lady's Wyrd. Brother Crow, Mother Night, the insects and wildlife, the flora..."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid gathers her hair in the front and separates each wet strand as she listens and watches you. She rolls each strand in her hands and casts it over her shoulder. "That's disappointing. I prefer to believe that change is possible and, in fact, desirable. If I cannot change and be better, more beautiful, more elegant, more charming... the Lady Enchantress will never look at me." She sighs and floats closer to the window.

Pale rays of wintry dawn penetrate through the dark boughs of Glomdoring, offering a stark view of the forest.

Tilting their head, you whisper, "Mother Night guards many fae under Her cloak, and She teaches many tenets - beauty being one of them. As does my Lord Nocht. Both advocate for the Wyrd's beauty and change."

Running her fingers against the window pane, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "This would make for a great place for a lagoon. Perhaps with a bit more colour, but still... far away from my jealous sisters."

You hum thoughtfully.

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "Your sisters are jealous?"

Matter of factly, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "Have you ever met a nereid that was not jealous? I am beautiful, of course they envy that even when they say they don't."

You have emoted: Esei tilts their head gently to one side. "I see..."

Crossing their arms, you whisper, "Hmm. I do not suppose anyone has ever told you of the Shadowbeat before, either?"

Curiously, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "The what?"

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "In essence, the Shadowbeat is a part of the Song of Creation, as fostered by the Voice of Mahalla. It consists of three movements: the Umbral Elegy, which promotes learning; the Carrion Requiem, which promotes the death of the old; and the Haunting Nocturne, which promotes rebirth."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid leans forward, elbows resting on the sphere of water that contains the lower half of her body. She listens intently and for once, seriously.

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "It is what beats with the Drums of the Dead and sings in the hearts and minds of every wyrdenkin. It is also part of what I teach, as an Augur of the Dark Heart."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid inhales and releases the air in her lungs as enchanting notes of a twilit nocturne. It scarcely seems she is singing, though her lips move, for the melody carries such power contained within.

The pointed tips of your ears twitch to hear an errant sound.

As you listen intently to Calliope's song, you sense power within her voice much as there is within Shadowbeat. Though she is not of Mahalla, that much is clear without a doubt, the notes carry the magic of another Keeper.

When her last notes of her song fade, Calliope, the indulgent nereid tilts her head and asks, "Is it called anything if the one who has imbued me with my voice is still alive?"

You hum thoughtfully.

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "If there is, I do not know it. I believe all other Keepers have perished in one form or another - or, at least, never returned to Lusternia."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid tosses her hair as her chest swells proudly in a marked return to her usual dose of self-admiration, "My Creator may be gone, but She who imbued me with song is a Keeper and here." She tosses her hair again and proclaims, "And I am seeking Her favour."

You have emoted: Esei's hands relax to clasp behind their back, tilting their head. "That much is clear. But what if you can never gain it?"

Her voice small, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "I must..."

Gently, you whisper, "Why?"

Calliope, the indulgent nereid looks outside the window, forehead pressed to the glass. She closes her eyes and confesses, "I must... I have forsaken my home for Her. I have nothing else. I have dreamed of the day I would meet Her for as long as I have lived. Dreamed of Her beauty and grace, of the Song. It calls to me..."

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "You could have more. If you wished to."

Turning, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "More of what? The Song is all I ever wanted."

You have emoted: Esei presses their own hand to the window, watching the southern horizon as the sun begins to dip in the sky. "A home." Their soft voice is touched, perhaps, with a bit of wist. "Away from your sisters and their jealousy, perhaps."

Joins your gaze to the beyond, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "A home..."

Looking to the gloves in her hands, squeezing them, Calliope, the indulgent nereid says, "I must try first. I must. This is all I ever wanted and without our Awakener, this is the only option to get at my heart's desire. I want the Song more... more than I want a home."

Dropping their hand, you whisper, "Very well. I suppose I can only ask that you consider what I have said, hmm?"

You have emoted: Esei turns their head to gaze at Calliope, the indulgent nereid again, dark eyes inscrutable. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me, t'ey oari t'ir'khes t'ai."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid blinks a few times slowly. It is unclear if she is blinking away tears or something else and then finally she says, "Your river is a bit stale and murky." - as if that explained everything.

You hum thoughtfully.

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "Shall I return you to it? I am sure you have to visit your naiad friend, no doubt."

With her usual exuberance, Calliope, the indulgent nereid exclaims, "Yes, lets!"

You reach to your sense of the many wyrden songs and begin to softly hum a low, dark tune. Your heart beats in tune with the Wyrd's melodies, soothing your spirit and calming your mind.

Using your tongue and the roof of your mouth, you make a quiet clicking noise.

You beckon to Calliope, the indulgent nereid.

Calliope, the indulgent nereid begins to follow you.

Under the bridge.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. Small particles of dust fly through the air, caught up in a moderate gale. The swift river runs underneath a stone bridge from east to southwest. The bridge itself has been constructed from many grey rocks, now coated in a layer of dank slime and moss. Drips fall constantly from above, splashing down into the river below with great ripples. Although it is dark beneath the structure, it is still possible to make out carvings and etchings on the bricks. Some are faded names and dates, no longer legible; others are swirling spiral patterns and detailed pictures. Cradled by deep green leaves, an amaranthine night lotus floats here along the surface of the waters.
You see exits leading east and southwest.

You move about quickly and lose Calliope, the indulgent nereid.

You incline your head politely to Calliope, the indulgent nereid.

Calliope, the indulgent nereid sinks into the river, allowing her sphere of water to dissolve. She holds onto the gloves tightly and does not meet your gaze as she says, "Thank you, I am sure she will enjoy them. And I will be sure to tell them how wrong they are about the Wyrd."

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "If only we could save them from their own ignorance."

Calliope, the indulgent nereid tosses her hair and pouts petulantly, "Unfortunately, it appears everyone else is as stubborn as the nereids."

And with that, Calliope, the indulgent nereid dives head first into the waters and vanishes within the murky river.