Trinities

A silver-tipped fawn Nyalian mastiff sporting wings of angelsong made manifest, flapping its wings,
lifts Falaine up into the air with you.

Falaine leans forward and flashes a grin. "I thought I sensed you about."

Twin bolts of violet lightning feint and weave like duellists lunging at one another, their thrusts
through the storm clouds leaving trails of scattered energy.

Glancing around, Slakened Falaine, Novitiate of Purity says, "Poor weather for flying."

Turning from facing out over the city below, Avaris's three pairs of wings beat in
a steady, peculiar rhythm that displaces immense gusts of air. Indifferent, it seems, to the roiling
storm and the lightning that casts him in a purple hue, he waves a golden hand aside, dismissive. "I
can endure it well enough. Better up here, I think, than below."

Neatly balancing atop a silver-tipped fawn Nyalian mastiff sporting wings of angelsong made manifest
as the dog corrects and stabilizes in the high winds, Falaine crosses her arms, frowning. "Suits
your mood, then? I can understand the appeal of that, I suppose," she concedes, then shakes her
head. "I take it things did not get better with Selia after my departure?" she asks dryly.

A soft, pleasant harmony of resonant laughter rolls forth from Avaris as he shakes
his head. "Oh, nothing nearly so melodramatic. I am quite fine. I simply like to be in high places,
in an attempt to facilitate perspective." Gesturing at the ground with a cursory flick of a wickedly
curved talon, his tone is wry as he replies, "Whatever gave you that idea? I, not doing well with
others? How unprecedented."

((Poor Falaine gets blown about a bunch by the storm))

The cold voice of Misericorde sends chills down your spine, "Would now be a good time to meet your
friend, Falaine."

Evette has left the area.

The bright, bell-like voice of Falaine rings in your ear, "Alas- I am not as suited as you for the
skies, not is sweet Dilly."

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Slakened Falaine, Novitiate of Purity, "Ah, that was
inconsiderate of me. I apologise. Would you like to meet a friend of mine?"

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide, "It may well be.
I shall ask her."

Folding your Golden Wings of Fair Eroee behind you, you swiftly dive down to the ground below.
The centre of a meditative garden.
This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. Trickling water breaks the silence of
the gardens as they flow down a monolithic stone fountain that sits in the middle of the square.
Gracefully crowning these celestial waters, a single star lotus floats atop a celadon urn as it
overflows with a boundless spring of healing light. The epitome of calm and control, Master Setmos
stands here, quietly musing his own existence. A low, protective growl escaping her muzzle, a silver-
tipped fawn Nyalian mastiff sporting wings of angelsong made manifest awaits instructions from her
companion. Divine radiance limns the figure of a holy champion who stands guard here, travailing
against the ongoings of injustice.
You see exits leading northeast, east, southeast, southwest, west, northwest, and down.

Dismounting, Slakened Falaine, Novitiate of Purity says, "Not inconsiderate of you at all- it was I
who flew up to greet you."

Falaine steps down off of a silver-tipped fawn Nyalian mastiff sporting wings of angelsong made
manifest.

Falaine caresses a silver-tipped fawn Nyalian mastiff sporting wings of angelsong made manifest
gently.
Almost like she were chewing on a bone, a silver-tipped Nyalian mastiff vigorously shakes the weapon
in her mouth in a wide arc.

Leaning an elbow comfortably atop a silver-tipped fawn Nyalian mastiff sporting wings of angelsong
made manifest, rivulets of water streaking down the gleaming metal of scale and plate with the amber
glow of eventide, Falaine gives you a companionable grin. "I am sorry to draw you down to the earth,
with you so comfortable above," she apologizes. "Still, the view down here is not so bad either."
With her other hand, she smooths back a loosened strand of indigo hair and then gestures to the
lovely fountain at the center of the garden as explanation.

Shaking out his wings in a brief flicker of wetly gleaming gold feathers, Avaris
clasps his hands together at the small of his back, then folds the damp pinions atop them. Inclining
his head in agreement, he says, "Indeed. I spend a great deal of time here. It is my favourite area
in New Celest." Antennae flicking towards Falaine, he prompts, gently, "Would you like to meet my
friend, Falaine? They are curious to see you."

Falaine nods, smiling at the fountain. "It is a pleasant place to write, I found." She pauses,
tilting her head back to look at the sky with ear fins pinned against the rain. "At least...
usually. Less so, lately." Turning her attention to you with a curious contemplation, she for a
moment, her neck gills vibrating slightly. "Alright, consider my interest piqued. You have few
enough friends that I'd like to meet the ones you do have."

Extending the tips of three of his wings, Avaris uses them to gesture towards the
trio of buildings nearby. "The studies are fine places to work, when the weather is not conducive to
doing so outside." At the answer, he nods, either unruffled by the observation of his few friends,
or declining to comment upon it. "I shall alert her."

Harmony echoes in your mind as you sing to Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide, "She is amenable
to meeting. We are in the same gardens as before, if you would like to come."

Misericorde offers a sharp salute in greeting to those gathered.

Avaris returns the salute with an unhurried, stately one of his own. Lowering his
hand, he turns it palm-upwards, gesturing from Misericorde, to Falaine. "Misericorde, this is
Falaine. Falaine, Misericorde, the Deepwater Guide. She is Lady Carakhan's." A pause, and then, in a
pleased tone, "We have representatives of each of the Ladies here. It is good to see."

Falaine glances curiously at Misericorde from her spot beside a silver-tipped fawn Nyalian mastiff
sporting wings of angelsong made manifest, straightening from her casual lean into a more proper,
upright position of watchful alertness after returning the salute. "Lady Misericorde," she greets
formally, her chin dipping in a greeting.

Misericorde lowers her arm and turns fully to Falaine, an appraising gaze swept over the younger
merian. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Falaine." A ghost of a smile touches her mouth as she nods her
head at your words. "I know little of the Divine both of you follow, if I am being truthful. But I
do recall their return to the Basin."

Slipping his aureate hand beneath the dense, heavy feathers of his wings once more,
Avaris's visored face points between the two merian women, though his attention is split evenly
between both, denoted by the effulgent markings that watch either lady with apparent curiosity.
"Perhaps we three should make an effort to allow our fellow citizens to learn more of our Ladies. It
would be remiss of us to do otherwise, I feel. They are all very fine, and deserve recognition, and
veneration."

Misericorde hums a thoughtful note as she muses, "My wife is often insistent I should record a
play."

Avaris's leftmost antenna twitches towards Misericorde, his voice curious, "Indeed?
We could certainly use more quality productions upon the stage. What sort would you pen, do you
think?" Nodding towards Falaine, he says, warmly, "Falaine is interested in doing so, as well.
Perhaps a shared hobby, or a cooperative effort."

A brief look of fascination is accorded to the shifting tentacles atop Misericorde's head before the
words capture Falaine's attention back once more. "I have something in the works, Avaris. Just.. the
idea of speaking before so many is truly daunting. More so than any simple conflict." With a shake
of her head, the tip of her braid swaying in counterpoint to the motion, the paladin glances back to
Misericorde. "Your wife- the maker of 'The Spy Who Loved the Sea', correct? A high bar to live up
to."

Misericorde's susurrations seem to briefly stop as she notices Falaine's attention, but the
tentacles are soon back to their idle writhing and pushing about of gilt and pearls. She gives a
little laugh as she murmurs, "Niralahi is indeed quite daunting to compare to on the stage. But yes,
that is her work in honor of the Sculptor." With a thoughtful pause she ads, "A sermon could be
informative. I languish at more creative scripts than informative ones."

The lines that form the stylised eyes which adorn Avaris's wings bend and shift as
they track back and forth between Misericorde and Falaine, something indefinably but distinctly
pleased to their cast as he listens. "It seems that we are all somewhat ill suited to the stage, but
necessity calls upon us. Let us not shirk out duty, however..." The chorus of his voice grows light
with dry humour. "Daunting it may be." Nodding encouragingly at Misericorde, he says, "That would be
ideal, I think. It plays to your strengths, and offers information of your Lady, which will persist
independently."

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you ask Falaine, "Are you working on a sermon, or is it a
different endeavour?"

"Well," Falaine concedes, a touch dryly, "I suppose the bar is rather lower for intellectual
recordings, currently. Less to be intimidated of, there. And..." she pauses, sighing in resignation.
"If I can rally a line of squires, I can rally a group of citizens. Or try, anyway." With the
pronouncement made in the tone of one announcing their own sentencing, the paladin reaches out to
scratch a silver-tipped fawn Nyalian mastiff sporting wings of angelsong made manifest behind the
ears, eliciting a soft 'hwoof' and a few sweeps of the bladelike tail.

Misericorde chuckles softly, the gills along her ribs flaring with the sound. Her fire-bright gaze
turns to the nearby mastiff, the susurrations atop her head seeming to increase a beat before she
asks, "And who is this?"

Falaine glances from the massive, winged dog to Misericorde with a hint of a genuine smile edging
past her polite professionalism. "This is Daffodils- or Dilly, for short. One of a sibling pair. She
is for travel and influencing. They are both Nyalian mastiffs from the Even-Bladed, bred to fight
Gorgogs, and excellent companions."

A faint, shivering note of amusement hangs in the air about Avaris for a moment,
before he follows Misericorde's attention to a silver-tipped fawn Nyalian mastiff sporting wings of
angelsong made manifest, the curved blades of his crest gleaming in the reflected lightning - Which
is summarily ignored, despite proximity. "A fine friend to have at your side, it seems. I am pleased
for you both - Or, rather, the three of you." The kephera's words are sincere as he studies the
great hound for a moment longer, nodding in approval.

Misericorde drawls a polite, "Hello Dilly," towards the mastiff. Her expression a touch impish, she
leans nearer to Falaine to confide, "I've a seal who's an absolute idiot, and is lucky to remember
to breathe most days." She then straightens her back as if nothing was said and inquires of Avaris,
"Have you a beast to keep you company as well?"

In the midst of shaking his head in a negative, Avaris pauses, as if recalling
something. "Ah. I suppose, technically, yes. I have a pegasus, but he lives largely in the stables.
I have become too large for him to bear." A quiet, awkward laugh harmonises in varying tones and
pitches, before, "I suppose I shall have to hope I come across a beast sizable enough to endure me,
someday."

Misericorde deadpans at you as she asks teasingly, "Have you considered being smaller?"

In an equally serious tone, with a glitter of amusement shining quite literally in
his eyes Avaris replies, "I have, but then how would I frighten little children? It simply is not
feasible."

Misericorde scoffs playfully as she utters, "If you cannot scare a child at a foot tall then you
barely qualify for the position."

Lifting a golden claw to tap at his chin thoughtfully, Avaris suggests, "Indeed?
Perhaps I should become smaller than a faeling, and seek to terrorise the youths of New Celest. That
will surely cement my position, beyond any doubt."

Misericorde agrees in a light timbre, "It would, yes."

((Fal qqs <3 ))

Watching the merian paladin depart, Avaris's antennae twitch faintly, before he
says, "She is a good person. Lonely. Too formal for the soft-hearted fools that populate the city, I
feel. It is a shame."

Misericorde hums a thoughtful note and answers, "I will keep an eye for her. I enjoyed her company
thus far, and would be curious to know more of Lady Terentia." A hint of mischief in her voice, she
adds, "Awful large land dogs for a water-borne city."

The manner in which Avaris inclines his head is one of silent gratitude for
Misericorde's words. Again, his seven, azure eyes glitter with motes of light as amusement tinges
his resonant voice. "It is peculiar, is it not? Perhaps you should suggest to Her that they could do
with added gills, and webbing between their toes."

Misericorde's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Lightly, Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide says, "Perhaps I will. I've faith She will be
amiable to constructive criticism."

In a drier tone, Avaris remarks, "Quite. I would advise no small amount of caution
with questions, however. They can go...Poorly."

Misericorde glances askance at you.

Misericorde says lightly, "I sense a story you will have to tell me later, as you have quite piqued
my curiosity despite my waning time."

A low, neutral tone shudders in the air about Avaris at this. "Perhaps when I am on
firmer footing with you. It is...Not a flattering tale, for myself."

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say to Misericorde, "Feel free to depart when you wish.
I will not seek to hold you here."

Misericorde admits with a gentle roll of her shoulders, "The best tales never are." Her eyes shine
brightly at her own words and she looks absently around the garden. "I never stay where I haven't a
desire to be," she answers. "Until recently I had never lingered in these gardens. I find them
enjoyable so far."

Turning his head to survey the tranquil gardens, Avaris emits a pleased sounds,
nodding in a benign fashion. "I am one of the very few who ever come here. They are most peaceful -
And they have three separate studies in which to work, if you are so inclined. Ideal, perhaps, for
drafting your sermon."

Misericorde chuckles softly, her head shaking as she answers, "Oh, no. Should I write it will be on
the Isle of Light." Her gaze casting sidelong and upwards to you she states, "Where I met Nalurei -
a kelpie in the service of the Sculptor. Where I was married. It's quite beautiful there."

Antennae flicking towards Misericorde in a liquid motion, Avaris lowers the angle
of his jaw so that he returns Misericorde's sidelong regard - Though the lack of pupils in his
inhuman gaze defeats the attempt somewhat. "Indeed? I am not familiar with Nalurei, nor terribly so
with the Isle of Light. Perhaps you would be so kind as to show some, another time."

Misericorde nods sharply in agreement. "Another time," she confirms. With a thoughtful expression,
her head canting to the side, she then states, "But I do think it is time for me to rest. It was a
pleasure to see you again, and your friend."

Shifting to face Misericorde fully, Avaris bends at the waist in a graceful,
stately bow. "Ah, of course. Thank you for your company, Misericorde. It was most pleasant. Until
next we meet, Light's blessings upon you."

Misericorde offers a sharp salute in return as she answers, "Blessings of the Deep upon you,
Avaris."