Respite

((Avaris was off at one end of the garden with Vaevaya, who was showing off her wishing doll to him, when she pointed out
that she had a friend nearby, and that he should go say hi! So, bemused, he does.))

The centre of a meditative garden.
This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. White gravel paths from all around
converge and intertwine here to lead to a large square of ivory flagstone, which paves this quarter
of the gardens. Several small cherry trees line the edges of the square, lending shade and respite
from the heat of the days. Shallow canals have been dug into the ground, allowing water from the
surrounding ponds and streams to flow into the square to fill a large fountain at its centre. Though
one can easily step across these narrow channels, several flagstone blocks are laid across the
canals to facilitate movement in and around the square. Save for the outline of a large weeping
willow tree to the northeast, the horizon is clear and unbroken, allowing those within to
contemplate their role in the world without distraction or interruptions. 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. Gracefully standing aside here, a soft-spoken
woman dressed in white looks about herself with a thoughtful air.
You see exits leading northeast, east, southeast, southwest, west, northwest, and down.

A soft-spoken woman in white glances up from where she rests in quiet meditation before the garden's
fountain, her gentle gaze reflecting brief surprise at your presence. Then she merely inclines her
head and resumes looking forward at nothing at all.


This slight human woman is garbed in a luminous white gown that falls about her in a shimmering
column of silk that reaches the floor, draping over the shoulders to leave her neck and arms
exposed. An unassuming beauty, there is a dusky radiance to her olive-skinned complexion, and her
celadon blue eyes look about herself with a gentle sense of curiosity. Her silvery-white hair has
been intricately braided behind her, each plait adorned by a starry white flower that emits a soft,
delicate glow. Resting about her throat, a misty jewel resembling a twinkling star sparkles and
gleams from a thin silver chain. Quiet sandals of woven willow leaves hush her every step, affording
her a silent grace in her movements.
A soft-spoken woman in white does not even register your presence as a threat.
She weighs about 125 pounds.
You cannot see what a soft-spoken woman in white is holding.
It has the following aliases: woman, villager, human.

The steady, stately gait that carries Avaris to within the centre of the garden
comes to an abrupt halt as his view of a soft-spoken woman in white grows clearer with proximity.
There is a strange moment of intense uncertainty, where his knee bends ever so slightly, his weight
shifting as if to lower himself to the ground - But evidently thinks better of it. Though his face
is turned politely to one side, the entirety of the effulgent, eye-like markings that adorn his
wings stare at a soft-spoken woman in white as if torn between fascination and faint confusion. "Ah.
My apologies, if I am disturbing you, Lady." He begins, a strange quality to his voice, before he
clears his throat, rallying. "The young Lady Vaevaya wished for me to convey her greetings to you."

Avaris pauses, again, then bends in a graceful, if somewhat hurried bow. "I am
Avaris. It is a pleasure to meet you."

You think to yourself: Confusion tugs at his mind in eddying swirls, though he strives to shake it
off. "For a moment there, I thought...But, surely not. Merely an uncanny resemblance. That is all."

Glancing up with recognition as Vaevaya's name is spoken, a soft-spoken woman in white nods simply,
saying, "That is kind of her. She is a sweet child to think of me." Then she pauses, responding to
your earlier statement, "You are not. I am merely taking a moment to think, for a time. You are
welcome to stay here if you wish."

"A pleasure to meet you, Avaris," a soft-spoken woman in white says as she resumes her earlier
posture, though she does not offer a name in answer.

You think to yourself: Awkward indecision - Does he remain? Surely he would be intruding, but...She
said that he was welcome to do so. But what if she was merely being polite? But, Little Star would
want him to befriend her, or try, and- "Oh, stiffen your spine, man. It is just a person. You have
faced worse things."

You think to yourself: "...Probably."

Howling across the city streets, the storm's wind billows around you like the caress of a wave:
furious at first, but then gentle in the next moment.

Even as the winds howl around a soft-spoken woman in white there is a curious stillness to her,
unfazed by the chaos of the storm and rain as she remains deep in thought.

Standing, as if at a loss, for the span of a few long breaths, Avaris visibly comes
to a decision as he nods, posture straightening. "She is perhaps the sweetest young being I have
ever had the pleasure of encountering, indeed. We are blessed by her presence." This said, he steps
off to one side, once more shifting as if to lower himself, only to pause at the latest raging
current of wind. His attention shifts to a soft-spoken woman in white, and he seems to weigh
something, then offers, unsure, "If the wind bothers you at all, I can...Well. I can make a screen
for you, if that would not...Disturb you." He trails off, then adds, somewhat lamely, as he gestures
to his damp feathers, "The wings, you see. Useful."

"I find young beings often are," a soft-spoken woman in white says in reply, blinking slowly as if
distracted from a particularly compelling thought. "They have yet to know the bitter taste of a life
lived too long. It is a rare gift to witness." As her braid is tossed in the wind, she wraps her
arms about herself, though the gesture seems born more out of a silent protective instinct than any
true desire for warmth. "If you wish. The storms do not bother me much, in truth. They are nothing
but background noise to me, now."

As if in belated afterthought, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "And you? What brings you here in
such dire weather?"

Listening with a polite, attentive air, there is nonetheless a keenly interested
quality to Avaris's focus as a soft-spoken woman in white speaks, several of the lesser, lambent
eyes tracking the path of the plait of silvery-white tresses. There is a subtle shift in his manner
as she places a soft-spoken woman in white's arms about herself, a considerable portion of the
uncertainty sloughing off as he straightens, standing with the demeanour of one very deliberately
restraining himself. Once permission is granted, he steps forward immediately - Though he approach
at a circuitous angle, rather than advancing upon a soft-spoken woman in white directly. He sets
himself down carefully a respectful distance to a soft-spoken woman in white's left, crossing his
legs beneath him. Unfolding, his wings stretch out to colossal spans, the immense pinions curving
about to form a solid breaker for the ceaseless winds, with the upper ones leaning out over a soft-
spoken woman in white to provide shelter from above. He sits in silence for a time, then says,
quietly, "I know that we have just met, but...I am a good listener, if you would like to talk about
what weighs on you."

You think to yourself: An instinctive desire to protect, to lend support purges him of his
awkwardness like the familiar weight of a blade steadying his hand. Concern overbears the intense
curiosity at this hauntingly familiar individual, though tempered by caution, and a painful
awareness of his own ineptitude with such situations. "She seems so tired."

As the rain ceases to fall upon a soft-spoken woman in white in the shadow of your wings, her
celadon blue eyes flicker from the fountain to the bruised sky overhead. "It is not a
particularly interesting tale," she says, her voice calm and level. "It is an old one, and one I
have lived before, many times over. Even so, I find it surprising when exhaustion takes hold." She
exhales softly, and a quiet laugh leaves her lips. "I am the first to tell others to rest, but it
takes a great burden to force me to accept the same. It is a great irony, I think."

Looking about herself at the meditative garden, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "A friend told me
this was a good place to rest, so I thought I'd listen to her, for once."

Following a soft-spoken woman in white's gaze skyward, Avaris's rain-slicked jaw
glistens as he tilts his head upwards, apparently unperturbed by the rain that falls directly onto
the solid spheres of his azure blue eyes. He offers no words, allowing a soft-spoken woman in white
room to speak, his antennae leaning towards her as he listens. At length, when no more words seem to
be forthcoming, a low, considering sound vibrates his throat. "That speaks well of you, Lady. You
must have a very fine heart, to put it so far beneath the welfare of others."

"Your friend is Wise, in this. It is a peaceful place." Avaris replies calmly. "Do
you think you are allowing yourself to rest, here?"

"I do not know. I think, to some degree, the attempt at rest is enough," a soft-spoken woman in
white answers as lightning illuminates the nearby tower. It does not appear to startle her, even as
the crescendo rattles throughout the city. "It is enough to not allow myself to continue to work, I
think, when I have begun to tire. And there is a comfort in solitude, and being away from too many
voices, thoughts, and..." She raises a hand in a faint gesture, as if attempting to encompass the
sheer weight of it all. "I have experienced worse. But even so, rest is necessary, at times."
12300h, 5800m, 6300e, 10p Bex-
The storm clouds turn a deep, dark black and the downpour batters you with the force of a waterfall.

Gentle, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "You did not answer my question, I notice."

A blinding flash of lightning strikes nearby, following almost immediately by a boom of thunder that
resounds in the ground, the air, and the bones.

The sole acknowledgement Avaris affords the violent bolt of furious lightning is a
brief glance from several of his light-forged eyes, which turn away after but a moment. The tips of
his antennae curve down as a soft-spoken woman in white speaks, his chin lowering to regard the
fountain in a sober manner. "To some degree," he allows, but continues, "But actual rest is
necessary, as well. Forgive me if I overstep, but it does not seem as if you are resting at all. You
worry at yourself like someone picking at scabs. Be kinder to yourself, please." At the reminder, he
emits a soft sound, dipping his head apologetically. "Ah, I am sorry. Visiting our mutual friend,
largely. I was elsewhere, but sensed her excitement, and so." He spreads his hands demonstratively.

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say, "I do not mind the weather, in truth. It is just
wet, and wind, and lightning."

Her words a clear and resonant statement, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "Slumber is something
beings who have fanned their spark no longer require, is it not? I do not think it would provide
much for me."

Lifting his lower left hand aside in a gentle gesture, as if fending the notion
away, Avaris says, "Rest does not necessarily mean slumber. The mind, the soul, the heart - These
require respite as much as the body. If not more so. You will not heal, if you do not allow yourself
to."

Something akin to amusement sparkling in her eyes, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "You speak as
if you hold great knowledge of the art of healing. Tell me, then. What would you have me do?"

A quiet, faintly self-conscious laugh rings into being about Avaris ,setting the
rivulets of rainwater upon him to shivering like struck strings. "I am merely familiar with many who
are great healers. I have picked up some notions by osmosis, I think." Sobering as he contemplates
the matter, he lifts his hand to twist a lock of the sodden fluff of his mane, the gesture absent-
minded. "Hm."

Carefully, and with evident thought put into each word, Avaris says, "I would have
you allow your mind to stop pacing endlessly with worry. You dwell on whatever plagues you, and you
need to let it go, for a little while. I know that it is easier to say, than to do, but...Relax. Be
gentle with yourself, and view your own heart and troubles as if you were someone very dear to you."

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say, "Put yourself first, for a small while. I promise I
will not tell anyone, if you do."

"I see," a soft-spoken woman in white says quietly in reply. "And how do you usually accomplish such
a task, when your mind is racing with thoughts that ought to be quelled? I would wonder at your
method, given the inherent difficulty of such a thing." She turns to face you directly, water
droplets shimmering upon the petals of the flowers that adorn her braid, the star about her throat
winking in the distant lightning of the thundering storm. "Do you find it easy enough, to merely
think away such thoughts?"

Releasing the drenched tuft of somewhat less than pristine white fluff, Avaris
raises his index finger aloft, declaring, "Ah, you see, there is a knack to it. You have to trick
yourself - Simply thinking thoughts away only adds to them, and makes them stronger, yes?"

For a moment, a soft-spoken woman in white appears perplexed at your words, until she seems to
detect the faint hint of humor in them. "Trick myself," she repeats, cautiously. "You are suggesting
a game?"

With quiet mirth limning his words, Avaris lowers his head in a grand gesture of
affirmation, leaning the barest degree towards a soft-spoken woman in white, to confide, "Of the
darkest kind, yes. We must blindside ourselves, those of us who cannot willingly let go of our
worries." The upraised hand curls into a clenched fist, which gleams in the pulsing glow from the
lighthouse. "Distract ourselves so that our grip loosens, and we find that we have released our
worries without realising it, for a little while." The hand turns, as if having its attention pulled
aside, the intensity of its quivering tension easing.

Closing her eyes in pensive thought, a soft-spoken woman in white turns her face skywards, the faint
mist of the rain bathing her in its watery sheen. "I will humor you, then. What did you have in
mind?" she asks, exhaling.

In a gracious manner that is brushed with the subtle glimmers of amusement, Avaris
says, "You are so kind, to indulge me so." Uncurling his fingers, he places one upon the tip of his
chin, the golden claw tapping against the wet, glistening alabaster as he considers. "Well.
Something that you are not used to, so it will tip you off balance, but entertaining, so that you
might enjoy yourself."

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say, "We could play a game of absurd questions, compose
an impromptu song, or dance - Go for some food, or watch a play, or any number of things."

Avaris turns his hand out to a soft-spoken woman in white in invitation. "I do not
know you so well as to guess. You must assist me in this."

A gentle laugh leaves her lips as a soft-spoken woman in white listens to your suggestions.
"Questions are fine, if you like," she says. "Song and dance would, I think, require more energy
than I wish to expend at present. And I am not much for food in general, so I would be a poor
companion in that regard."

In an easy, amiable tone, Avaris says, "You would make a fine companion in any
situation, do not be so quick to diminish yourself." The immense shelter of his wing shifts faintly,
rustling wetly as he considers. "Very well. If you had to choose to be dyed one, solid colour for
the rest of your life, what would it be? All over, mind, hair to toes."

Her brow furrowing slightly, a soft-spoken woman in white finds herself laughing slightly as she
shakes her head. "That is a highly peculiar question to ask," she says. "I wonder what you would do
with the answer. I suppose white, then. It is inoffensive."

The great wedge of his head shaking slightly in a benign negative, Avaris utters a
quiet click of disapproval. "You are thinking too much, still. It is a game, Lady. The question have
but one purpose; Entertainment. I shall do nothing at all with their answers."

Avaris inclines his head to a soft-spoken woman in white, saying, "Your turn. Your
most absurd question, if you please."

A single eyebrow lifted, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "And questions of this sort entertain
you?"

Lifting the shoulder opposite a soft-spoken woman in white, Avaris shrugs easily.
"The reactions and possible answers can be amusing. I am something of a serious person - It is good
for serious people to allow themselves to be silly, once in a while."

A soft-spoken woman in white purses her lips as she considers the notion, as if rifling through a
series of queries and summarily dismissing them as too serious. Finally, she decides on one, saying,
"Then if you were to live the rest of your life as one of the beasts of the Basin of Life, rather
than the shard you are now, which creature would you desire to be?"

"Hm!", Avaris exclaims, placing the elbows of his upper arms upon his armoured
thighs, and upon their interlaced fingers the then rests his chin, bending forward slightly. "I
think that I should like to be a dog. They are very loyal creatures, and seem endlessly happy at all
times, and filled to the grim with boundless love, and a joy in others. They are very Wise, I think,
dogs."

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say, "Brim, rather."

The faintest flicker of amusement in her celadon blue eyes, a soft-spoken woman in white says,
"There is a gulf in meaning between the two words, indeed."

Avaris holds up one of his lower hands, forming a circle with his forefinger and
thumb, with a sliver of air between them. "Just a touch."

Tucking an errant stray of hair behind her ears, a soft-spoken woman in white awaits your next
question with a practised patience, the heaviness that had marked her gaze upon your arrival fading
somewhat in favor of something resembling curiosity, or amusement.

A number of the smaller markings that dwell upon Avaris's curved wings follow the
motion of a soft-spoken woman in white's hand as if fascinated, shifting the barest shade towards
pink, before flitting hurriedly away. "Ah. Let us see. If you had to wake up one day with hands
instead of feet, or feet instead of hands - Which would you choose?"

Laughing despite herself, the sound all the brighter for its startled cadence, a soft-spoken woman
in white says to you, "You are an utterly absurd person."

You think to yourself: A quiet appreciation for the graceful poise and beauty of the woman by his
side, swiftly followed by a guilty flush of embarrassment, which is swept away by the sound of her
laughter.

A soft-spoken woman in white says, "My work requires my hands. I suppose I would have to make the
choice that allows me to keep them."

Lifting his lower left hand to splay it upon his chest in a supremely regal
fashion, Avaris intones, "I am the most severe person to have ever drawn breath, ~thank you~."

Her eyebrow lifted once again, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I wonder who told you such a
lie."

The clouds overhead rumble ominously and bolts of lightning strike the ground, followed closely by
peals of furious thunder.

Avaris's eyes glitter with twinkling motes of light, and he lowers his hand once
more, clicking his tongue once more. "Ah, we have barely met, and already you have decided I am a
jester!"

With a benign shrug, her voice level, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I said a liar. The two are
not one and the same."

Dipping his head aside in acknowledgement of the point, Avaris replies, "A joke and
a lie are not the same, either. I do not tell lies, Lady."

The shimmer of the cool mists sparkling in her silvery hair, a soft-spoken woman in white says to
you, "Very well. If you wish to be a jester, then I suppose I will oblige you in the task. It is my
turn for a question, is it not?"

With a slight, pleased nod, Avaris lifts a hand in invitation, challenging, "It is.
Rise to the occasion, Lady! Startle me, shock me, leave me reeling with the sheer outlandisheness of
your question, if you can."

There is a long, measured silence as a soft-spoken woman in white struggles to conceptualize
something that might suit your desire for startling, shocking queries, until at last she attempts,
"Very well. Would you rather spend the rest of your life trapped in the motion of dance, never able
to walk or run again as normal, or be forced to sing rather than speak for the rest of your
existence?"

The question elicits a cocking of Avaris's head, the gleaming, crested helm
twisting at a steep angle as he considers this, a brief laugh escaping from him. "Well, now. That is
a conundrum."

Knocking the edge of a knuckle against his bent knee, Avaris muses, "Dancing
everywhere would get tiresome, though less so if one could choose the form of it. Waltzing down the
street might not be so bad, as, say, being force to leap and twist about if you even so much as
wished to step from your seat to a table."

Nodding slightly in agreement, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "Though it might look peculiar to
waltz without a partner, indeed."

Antennae bending in thought, the fingers upon which Avaris rests his head ripple
and wiggle idly. "It would, indeed, but I am confident that the kind people here would take pity
upon me, and either pretend all was normal, or provide a partner for me." A long, bass sound judders
forth from his vast chest, rattling the chitin of his jaw where it comes into contact with his hand.
"I suppose I would choose to sing, always, for that would not interfere too much with communicating,
I think. It might bring a little amusement to people's lives, as well."

With a wistful sort of tenderness, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "That is a pleasant thing, to
sense being around such kindness. I suppose it makes forgiving such peculiarities simpler, indeed."

Avaris dips his head in a slight nod, a fond note to his layered voice. "It is.
Better, still, if one allows such kindness past one's defenses, once in a while."

"I wonder if you take your own advice as swiftly as you give it," a soft-spoken woman in white
replies easily, though there is a sense of teasing in the words, rather than any bite.

In an almost breezy manner, Avaris replies blithely, "Not even remotely."

"That is convenient, then, that you are so confident in dispensing your wisdom," a soft-spoken woman
in white says with a gentle laugh, shaking her head. "I believe the next question is yours. I wonder
at what monstrosity you will saddle me with now."

In a decidedly manufactured display of sagacious gravitas, Avaris shifts his
posture so that he can strokes the tips of his claws fingertips along the slops of his chin, in a
manner akin to a man with a beard. "It is much easier to give Wisdom unto others, than to open
oneself to it, from one's own hands." He eyes a soft-spoken woman in white sidelong, tipping his
head aside briefly, asking, "How was that? Convincing at all?"

Bemused, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "Not even remotely, I am afraid. You will have to hone
your acting skills to match those of your absurd antics."

With a clearly artificial sigh of despair, Avaris hangs his head, the very picture
of exaggerated dejection. "Alas." Shrugging it off almost immediately, he brightens, clearly warming
to the game. "You can either kiss one supremely ugly person, made of malodorous cheese, or ten
thousand toads that pinch when kissed. Which do you choose?"

Leaning back against a nearby cherry tree to consider the utterly ridiculous question, a soft-spoken
woman in white says amidst the melodic pitter-patter of the rain, "This seems a rather cruel and
judgmental question, assuming such of this being made of cheese. I do not much care for how the
speaker maligns them. I suppose I would have to choose them, though perhaps it is a choice made out
of pity for receiving such a terribly biased address."

Spreading his lower pair of hands wide in a gesture that is at once helpless and
pacifying, Avaris claims, "It is neither cruel nor judgmental to accurately describe someone, if
those are their most notable traits. Set aside your outrage at my black-hearted knavery, if only for
a moment, and consider the question again - Let us say this our cheese-born friend is of similarly
dastardly disposition, and revels in his toe-curlingly awful scent."

Coolly, unwilling to reconsider, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I have already answered your
unkind question."

Archly, though there is no true offense in the indignation, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "Do
you think I would prefer the pinching toads, then?"

Faltering, Avaris's lighthearted manner dies out as abruptly as a candleflame
doused with a bucket of water. He lowers his hands to his lap and straightens his back. "I apologise
for offending you." He does not respond to the question aloud, but merely twitches a shoulder up in
a tiny shrug. His voice is not cool, but nor does it contain the warmth or ease of before. Instead,
it is polite, and calm. "It is your turn, if you wish to continue. We can move on to something else,
or I can depart, if you would prefer."

There is a faint hesitation in her reply as a soft-spoken woman in white perceives the shift in your
demeanor, her hands placed in her lap as she considers. The glistening raindrops on her skin shimmer
faintly amidst the stormy rains, even though the bulk of the squalls is held at bay by your sturdy
wings. "Which unfortunate fate would you choose, then," she says, looking up at last with something
resembling determination. "To be forced to endure the public embarrassment of a public serenade by
an off-key, overenthusiastic bard, or to be seen by all as a poor dance partner who steps on the
toes of someone you seek to impress?"

Laughing slightly as her hand strays to her braid, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I do not know
why I am focusing upon music in my questions. I fear I am not as gifted at this nonsense as you seem
to be."

The question, this time, is given a peculiar degree of sober consideration, as
Avaris's head turns down, antennae curving down in a faint frown. A minute tapping sound emanates
from the tiny rise and fall of one of his clawed fingers, the pointed tip barely rising from the
golden chitin upon which it rests. Faintly distracted, he lifts the hand's counterpart to wave the
statement away in a gentle manner. "Music is very fine, and if you circle back to it often, then it
must be because it is dear to you. I do not mind it."

The droplets of water that bead upon Avaris's form tremble as he thrums with a deep
vibration of sound, thoughtful. "Clarification - This someone I seek to impress. How would they feel
about my dancing with them, toe-stepping and all?"

Her hand playing slightly with the braid from where it has alighted, sending twinkling raindrops
scattering from the dewy flowers woven within its plaits, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I
suppose that depends on who you have chosen. I did not consider that in the question, admittedly.
What do you think the answer should be?"

Whether from the sea or the rain, a friendless mist sheathes the city in sparkling vapour and a
bitter, kniving chill.

Sheets of rain pelt the rooftops of the city: an orchestra of noises that leaves every shingle,
window, and gutter slick or waterlogged.

Again, the motion of a soft-spoken woman in white's hands draws the focus of
several of the glowing eyes withing Avaris's sheltering wings, the glittering droplets of water
ignored in favour of watching the subtle play of a soft-spoken woman in white's fingers upon the
pale plait, with a hesitant sort of curiosity. "Hm. I think that the chosen person should not care
for a few bruised toes, in this scenario, so that it is the opinion of many, opposed to that of but
one. Agreed?"

Her hand returning to rest in her lap as she nods, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "Very well.
Then we are agreed it is so."

Mirroring the nod, Avaris's answer is immediate, and absolute in its certainty.
"Then I choose that option. It matters not at all if the whole of Creation thinks me a bumbling,
artless fool, so long as the one that I have chosen is happy."

The clouds overhead rumble ominously and bolts of lightning strike the ground, followed closely by
peals of furious thunder.

Somewhat amused, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "Perhaps I should have made the other option a
rather adoring and besotted admirer singing an off-key tune, to make the two more equal. But I
cannot change my phrasing at this venture, so I will accept your answer for what it is."

In an even manner, Avaris turns his hand to a soft-spoken woman in white in
invitation, suggesting, "You can do so, if you wish. I was able to ask a question, in the midst of
yours, so it is only fair that you can readjust it somewhat."

Pleasantly, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I have no qualms with your answer, if you do not."

With a minor negating motion of his jaw, Avaris replies, "I do not."

Lifting a hand in a gesture of acquiescence, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I believe then it
is your turn to inflict me with your bouts of whimsy and shamelessness. I shall steel myself."

Breathing out a sound that vibrates with faint amusement, Avaris says, "You are so
besieged by my flagrant disregard for calm sensibility and thoughtful questioning." In a murmur,
entirely bereft of remorse, "You poor thing. How ever will you suffer through it."

"It makes the rain seem endurable, indeed," a soft-spoken woman in white replies mildly, her celadon
blue eyes shining with mirth. "You have accomplished quite a feat in that."

Absently lifting his upper left hand to pass his fingers along the span of his
antennae, cleaning them, Avaris replies, dryly, "I shall be certain to add it to my endless list of
accomplishements." The kephera then muses, "Would you rather try to embroider with a rapier, or fell
a mighty beast with a needle?"

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say, "You must succeed, in either capacity, I should
clarify."

"Ah," a soft-spoken woman in white says softly, looking to the skies as the pale shafts of light
filter out. "Is it dawn already? Time has elapsed swifter than I realized. I hope I have not kept
you from other matters." She pauses, once again exhaling softly with laughter, as if beset by the
strange imagery your questions evoke. "It would be simpler to impale a mighty beast with a needle,"
she replies. "You need only know the right pressure point to strike. I am confident I would find
it."

Rather than lifting his head to confirm the observation, Avaris turns a number of
the eyes that form a vigilant constellation upon the exterior of his wings, to check the hue of the
sky. "So it is. It is fortunate, indeed, that your suffering of my silliness has elapsed so swiftly,
mm?" At the reply, he says, amused, "Even if it were a new, strange beast that you have never seen
before, with pressure points unfamiliar to you?"

With a quiet confidence, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I think you underestimate the wide
breadth of my knowledge."

Avaris gestures to the burgeoning dawn. "You have not kept me. I do not wish to
keep you prisoner with my nonsense, either, of course. If you have elsewhere to be, or tire of my
jesterly ways, by all means - I shall not beg you to remain." Tipping his head aside, he replies,
evenly, "Perhaps so. Perhaps you overestimate the sharpness of your needle. I may have handed you a
dull one, after all."

Calmly, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "A dull needle can be more dangerous than a sharp one,
should it spread infection."

A soft-spoken woman in white says, "I am content in my choices, I think."

The sun reaches the zenith of the overcast firmament, pausing in its quest to allow the battered
land to bask in the grey light of day.

Serenely, Avaris says, "Indeed. A pity that infection is usually too slow to fell a
rampaging beast."

A helpless laugh leaving her lips, a soft-spoken woman in white says to you, "You seem so convinced
I will fail in this venture that you have forced me to succeed in."

A mischievous gleam quite literally glinting in his azure eyes, Avaris's antennae
wriggle about in a brief bout of playful motion. "You seem so convinced that you will be able to
embroider this beast to death. It is charming."

The pouring rainclouds above you turn a deep grey, and the droplets grow larger and fall more
forcefully.

Furrowing her brow with amused disagreement, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "Is stabbing
embroidery? Then I have learned something new this day, indeed."

The clouds overhead rumble ominously and bolts of lightning strike the ground, followed closely by
peals of furious thunder.

Lifting a pointed fingertip in demonstration, Avaris gestures to it with a small
wave of his opposite hand. "It is, technically speaking, if a thread is still attached. You could
even hang the beast upon your wall and frame your fine work for all to admire." He spreads his hands
wide, as if encapsulating from grand piece of art. "Behold, they will cry, such marvelous
stitching!"

Her gaze flickering from your fingertip to the wave of your opposing hand, a soft-spoken woman in
white says, "You are truly a strange fellow, to make such whimsical leaps of logic."

With a modest shrug of one immense, spiked shoulder, Avaris lowers his hands, his
tone mild, "Whimsy does not come naturally to me, but when the situation calls for it, I can pick up
any weapon, as needed."

Violet lightning crackles across the firmament, the heavy stormclouds above momentarily parting with
the force of its passage.

You think to yourself: "And despite my lack of familiarity with this particular weapon, I seem to
have fared well enough. Laughter, even. Amazing."

"Is this a violent game, then? Then I believe the gauntlet is now thrown before me, once more. Let
me think," a soft-spoken woman in white says, sighing as another gentle laugh takes hold of her.
"Would you rather be forced to endure nothing but cloyingly sweet baked goods for the rest of your
existence, or drink nothing but the strongest of alcoholic beverages?"

Recoiling at the prospects offered to him, Avaris's antennae squirm inwards like
the questing tendrils of sea anemone flicked by an errant fin. "Tears of the Divine, Lady, you are a
brutal one!" he exclaims, appalled, though there is a peculiar sort of shocked delight undercutting
his words.

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.

You think to yourself: An internal grimace as he shudders at the question. "Blegh. Terrible options.
She is good."

Seeming equally surprised and mildly delighted at your consternation, a soft-spoken woman in white
says, "Perhaps there is a learning curve to this particular game."

Spilling ever more of its bounty, the light rain develops into a cascading downpour.

Shivering, like one that has stepped upon something terribly unpleasant, Avaris
ripples the tips of his fingers atop his thigh in a soft clattering of chitin. "Perhaps you are a
swift learner. I hand you a sparring sword and you go right for the eyes! I don't know whether to
applaud you or cry." Laughter limns his words, taking any potential bite from them, before he utters
a thoughtful note.

"I think," Avaris begins slowly, "I would choose the terror of overly sweet
confectionary, compared to the loss of focus and control that imbibing the strongest alcohol would
bring." A pause, and then, "Reluctantly. Supremely, reluctantly."

A note of sympathy in her voice, even as she seems to relish in the difficulty of your reply, a soft
-spoken woman in white says, "That is probably the wiser course, if the more distressing one
ultimately."

Tiny, distant pinpricks of light cut through the storm-seething sky like the beads of Night's gown,
lost briefly in a riotous eruption of silver-bright lightning.

Azure eyes aglitter with glinting points of silvery light as he studies a soft
-spoken woman in white with amusement, Avaris observes, "There is a devilish streak in you, I think.
It is pleasing to see. Content to proceed, or shall we lay down our arms?"

As the sun passes below the horizon's edge, Mother Night unveils her terrible, shadowy beauty,
spreading darkness across the land.

Taking a moment to wring some of the rainwater from the draping sleeves of her gown, a soft-spoken
woman in white says, "You may have one more strike at me, if you wish, in retaliation for my
cruelty." There is a faint reluctance that lingers for a moment as she pauses, before saying,
"Though you are correct that the burden of duty does call to me, and it would be wise of me to heed
it once more."

Noting the reluctance, Avaris regards a soft-spoken woman in white for a moment,
and then says, in a careful, casual manner, "One more strike, as you say, before duty calls, but I
do not consider our little duel complete. I would like to see you again." He pauses - Freezes,
momentarily, in truth, as a flush of pink suffuses the markings of his wings, then forges on
hurriedly, "So that we can assure a victor, of course."

Tilting her head curiously, her braid shifting with the movement, a soft-spoken woman in white says,
"Are there victors and losers in this game, then? How are they determined."

Mirroring the motion, though his is one of consideration, Avaris suggests, "We can
arrange it to be so, if you have a competitive streak in you, or desire a prize to motivate you. We
can tally who has the best questions, or answers, or some such. I do not mind."

Considering the notion for a moment with the same seriousness she has given each nonsensical
question throughout, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I fear this game plays to your strengths
and not mine. I suspect it would be a poor decision on my part to agree to such a setup."

Generously, Avaris offers, "We can come to an arrangement that is equally suited to
both parties, when we meet next, if you prefer. Perhaps start fresh with a different game. Whatever
you like."

"I do not know how often I will return to this place, in truth," a soft-spoken woman in white
continues, hesitating. "It is rare I come here at all. I find there is rarely a reprieve for such
things, unless I force it." She looks at you for a moment, as if assessing you thoughtfully, then
says, "I believe I know why my friend recommended this place, however. She is gifted at placing me
into unexpected situations."

The words careful and thoughtful in their muted reply, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "Should I
return, and if you are here, then I am not opposed to the situation you propose."

A very faint thread of disappointment winds its way through Avaris's words, though
he strives otherwise to remain courteously cheerful. "That is unfortunate. Perhaps you should force
such more often, lest you grow ragged beyond even my rapier's ability to sew you back to your former
glory." He weathers the assessment with only a slight, curious tilt of his head. "It is a very fine
place, indeed. Perhaps your friend is fond of the quiet, here." A smile in his voice, if not upon
his face, he says, "Thank her for me, if you would. She has given me a very fine gift, this day,
though she knows it not."

Bowing her head in assent, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I shall, then. It seems something she
would enjoy knowing." Looking up at you once more, her voice gently inquisitive, "Then have you
decided upon your last question?"

Inclining his head in turn, the gesture one of gratitude, Avaris emits a soft,
"Ah." of realisation, giving voice to a quiet laugh. "Let us see. Would you rather wear sodden,
thick, woolen socks for the rest of your life, or be forced to wear a coat of fur that makes you
sweat constantly?"

Seemingly caught unawares by the inherent senselessness of the choices presented, a soft-spoken
woman in white says, "You wish me misery with either blow, I see. It is not enough to saddle me in
something hideous, but something that actively causes discomfort."

Nodding in an affable manner, Avaris gestures to himself with a careful turn of his
wrist. "I am, without doubt, the most diabolical of villains."

With a sigh expressing disdain for her ultimate fate, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I suppose
I am forced to choose the socks, for they are simpler to manage than something so heavy and
burdensome as a coat. I am not happy about it, however."

Eyes glimmering with mirth, Avaris points out, "It would hardly be a good question
if you were happy with one, or the other, now, would it?"

Watching as yet another dawn crests over the horizon, a soft-spoken woman in white gracefully arises
from where she has rested beside the cherry tree, turning to face you as she stands to her full
height. "I suppose it would not be, in truth. And I hold respect for the rules of your game, however
absurd it may be."

Spilling ever more of its bounty, the light rain develops into a cascading downpour.

The sky lightens as Father Sun approaches the horizon, revealing a maelstrom of dark grey clouds
wreathing the firmament in a funereal shroud.

Once a soft-spoken woman in white is free of the protective cover of his wings,
Avaris draws them back and flicks them aside in a rush of snapping air that sends a torrent of
displaced water splattering off behind him. He rises, with no small amount of reluctance, and offers
a soft-spoken woman in white a courteous bow. "You are very fair, then, to indulge me so."
Straightening, he looks upon a soft-spoken woman in white with an unreadable visage, the entirety of
his focus upon her. In a hesitant manner, he says, "I..Have enjoyed your company, Lady. Thank you,
sincerely, for enduring my nonsense. I hope that you will be kinder to yourself."

Bowing slightly in return, her hands pressed before herself, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "I thank
you for your attempt at healing, Avaris. It was most unexpected and..." She falls silent for a
moment, seeking a word, before managing to finish, "It was not unpleasant. And I confess the need
for some distraction, as of late." The downpour around her seemings to cling to her form almost like
a shimmering veil of mist, the memory evoked by it vanishing as each droplet continues in its
relentless descent. "You have my gratitude. I do not intend to be unkind, but I shall keep your
words in mind with the generosity they are meant."

The tips of Avaris's antennae dip down in the beginnings of a small frown at the
fleeting notion, spurred by the ceaseless rain, though he gives his head a slight shake, as if
clearing it. "You are welcome, though attempt is all it was. I can, I think, safely claim to be a
decent distraction, when I try hard enough." Inclining his head in a gentle acknowledgement, he
says, "Sometimes we can be terribly unkind to ourselves, without trying, or even realising it. We
need an outside set of eyes to point it out." He pauses, a faint laugh woven into the chorus of his
voice. "Often, repeatedly. And with much vigour."

Placing his hands behind the sodden cloak of his wings, Avaris says, kindly, "Thank
you for the gift of your company, Lady. You are a very fine person, I think."

Meeting the kephera's laugh with a faint smile of her own, a soft-spoken woman in white says, "You
sound as if you speak with the unfortunate weight of experience. May you be kinder to yourself also,
then, and learn to take this advice you give so freely to complete strangers in the rain."

Shafts of pale morning light pierce through the gloom from Father Sun's crown as it peeks over the
world's edge, announcing a new day.

The clouds overhead rumble ominously and bolts of lightning strike the ground, followed closely by
peals of furious thunder.

Dipping his head aside, Avaris's tone is pleasant as he replies, "I will try to do
so, if you will, Lady."

Her slight figure outlined in the stark lightning that surrounds her, though its flashing glare
seems to strangely hush and dim before her calm countenance, a soft-spoken woman in white says,
"Then we are agreed upon the matter."

There is the barest flicker of uncertainty as a soft-spoken woman in white turns to depart, and she
turns to you to ask, "How do you prefer to wish one another farewell? I know different places have
preferred greetings and partings."

Again, the look that Avaris fixes a soft-spoken woman in white with is an odd one,
as if he is trying to puzzle something out, or striving to recollect something, his antennae bent at
odd angles. Setting whatever conundrum besets him aside, he nods, the lightning painting him briefly
in silver light. "We are." He pauses, uncertainty sparking to life within him as well. "I...Well,
that is up to you, Lady. Whatever it is that you are most comfortable with, I shall abide by."

A soft-spoken woman in white considers the matter for a moment with a strange gravity, before
saying, "Then may you weather the storms and floods, and find rest when you seek it next. Be well,
Avaris." She bows once more, the movement elegant and poised, before she begins to depart in
earnest.

Bowing in turn, Avaris replies, "May you find shelter when you need it next, Lady,
and before you are forced to seek it."

For a moment, you witness a fleeting smile as a soft-spoken woman in white turns to look back at
you, nodding. Then she steps into the misty veil of the ever-present curtain of rain, and as she
moves into the shadows, vanishes from sight.

Spilling ever more of its bounty, the light rain develops into a cascading downpour.

Watching the enigmatic woman blend into the shrouded, misty downpour, it is a long
time before Avaris stirs himself to move, his antennae curved downward in a thoughtful frown.

You think to yourself: "Either my Lady has, somehow, managed to produce a single shard, has a mortal
doppleganger, or Nabithia has been failing at keeping secrets again. Mm. Either way, I hope she - Or
She - finds solace. I do not like to see such a gentle soul so beleaguered, be it Divine or mortal."