World Peace and Hunky Boys
Log Info
- Title: World Peace and Hunky Boys
- GM: Riptide
- Place: Festival Grounds / University District
Festival Grounds, mid-day.
The snow is falling. It is, after all, in the middle of the first month of the year, but at least these are the gentle snow-flurries, rather than the rush of ice on winds so fast that they feel like sharp little daggers against the skin. And here in the Festival Grounds, there's plenty of room for people to do all sorts of activities!
Those passing through at this particular moment, however, hear something like... Whining. Yes, that's indeed whining, although easily missed for something that could sound like the buzzing of insect wings by the ear (although a thing that's quite improbable in this weather and during this season).
"Stooooooop-it!" One little voice whines. "You're destroying my snowman, Primrose!"
Then comes a barking little laugh, a different voice. "It's only fair! After all, you destroyed my sanctity when you came to my Temple! I'll destroy everything you love!!"
... Which would be more dramatic, but once the eye catches them, it's apparent that it's two pixies in the snow. One of them has white wings and is adorned with a dress made of white petals, with blonde ringlets flowing down her head--and is crying over the remains of her pitiful little snowman. The other pixie wears a similar dress of flower petals, but hers are a bright pinkish-red that matches her wings, and her blonde hair is cropped short in... Well, a pixie-cut. She has an awfully severe look on her face, about as severe as the sword in her hands. It's impressive. For a pixie.
Library. Arena. Home. Library. Arena. Home. Such a routine takes the green jacketed pugilist through the Festival grounds each time. Atop her head is a knitted beanie of yule colors, with long almost mitt-like flanges on the side for her ears.
Though, Aryia slows to a crawl, face scrunched up behind a similarly hued scarf as she hears something through the drifting snow. Aryia turns about one way. Another. Then looks down.
The mute blinks. Doffs her shades. And sits down. She doesn't say (or sign) anything, instead just watching with mild mirth. This was going to be good.
Verna is not one to attract, much less seek out sylvan shenanigans. This is in no way a claim that such avoid her in reciprocation; no, oft it seems quite the opposite. At present, she stands before one of the wooden archery and/or jousting target forms. Rather than lance, bow, or even pistol, her empty-handed motions suggest her only weapon to be gloved hands or, perhaps more likely, mana itself.
She remains unaware of furtive and/or fretting fae due to her concentations and focus upon her task. That large tufts of wool sprout from within each ear might also explain her blissful ignorance; they would certainly account for the echoing volume of the incantions that begin.
Some days, you've just had enough of being indoors.
Yes, a nice warm fire, woodwork or study and snuggly cats are all wonderful things. The truth is, though, that Dolan has been growing more and more restless, of late, and the abominable weather has not abated in the slightest, nor is it likely to for at least another two months. Flexing sword skills, at least, leaves him with less time to think and serves as an anodyne for memories best left to sleep.
Greatsword across his back, light armor concealed beneath warm clothing in layers, a gold-colored scarf and a matching sheepskin-lined hat with ear-flaps completing the ensemble, he stomps his way through the snow and out towards the archery yard where swordsmen often practice in weather such as this, but stops short at the buzzing of wings. He knows that "voice" - what is Lily-of-the-Valley doing out in the snow instead of in Tel's garden, ogling anything in sight that happens to be male? A quick pan around, turning himself, isolates the sound, and he walks up a few feet from Aryia to - behold - this.
One side of his lips quirks into a smirk. This ought to be good.
At least one of the pixies notices that they have an audience. To be exact, it's Primrose, the one with a sword. She looks up, sees Aryia, and then... She sees Dolan. Primrose puffs out her chest (or what of it exists, anyway) and then says, "BEHOLD! I, Primrose, sworn adherent of the mighty Angoron, will take down this lecherous scum that has defiled the Temple of Angoron with her wanting gaze and false intentions!"
"Oh shut your pie-hole, Primrose, you love hunky men too!" Lily-of-the-Valley cries out. She looks around and notices Aryia and Dolan. Her saviors! She flits right over to them. "Oh please, you have to help me! Pretty-please! Primrose is going to beat me with her sword until my wings are crooked--"
And then she looks at Dolan and... She giggles. "Haha, how are you today, Dolan?" A little pixie-finger goes to play with one of Lily-of-the-Valley's blonde curls. "You busy working with all that wood still?"
Primrose doesn't hesitate. She pursues Lily-of-the-Valley, sword trained on the other pixie. "Face me in honorable combat, you licentious coward!" she howls.
GAME: Aryia rolls sense motive: (3)+28: 31 GAME: Dolan rolls sense motive: (12)+25: 37
Aryia slowly looks between Primrose, Lily-of-the-Valley, Primrose, Dolan- who gets a nod of acknowledgement- then back to the fairy duo. Her scarred face scrunches a bit, a beyond amused smile hidden behind her scarf as a knowing sigh escapes. She rubs at her face. "When I suggested the temple of Angoron, I meant- doesn't matter. You need a lesson," she signs to Lily, hands drawing to a stopping crawl as Lily get distracted by Dolan. Glowing eyes roll, and she spots Verna in the distance, incantations growing louder. The mute scoops up some nearby snow, and lightly chucks it at Verna's back to get her attention.
She makes some motions that has no true word for word Trade translation, save for "Check this shit out." <Handspeech/Tongue>
Whatever spell Verna was attempting to form the mana into sputters out as the back of her head adeptly catches the thrown snow, though the root cause may have been poor annunciation or pronuncation. She startles and turns, now plucking the material from her ears. Now aware of Aryia, then Dolan, and lastly the pixies, her brows lift. She then approaches to inquire, "What seems to be the matter?" Her eyes then promptly shift to regard Lily and Primrose in suspicion.
Dolan's remaining eyebrow climbs amusedly into his hairline, and he crouches down in the snow, careful to give Aryia and Verna clearance and not smack them with the large thing over his back. "Brightest of days, you two. Now, Primrose, I'm not sure how you think you're going to have honorable combat with someone who isn't armed while you're carrying a giant sword," he explains, the corner of his lip quivering, flesh and blood eye dancing.
"What seems to be the problem? Are you both watching the same men, or something?"
Lily-of-the-Valley is the first to pipe up, as always. "I joined the Temple of Angoron because Aryia told me I could go look at--" Then she feels the glare of Primrose burrowing into her skull, and she quickly corrects, "because Aryia told me of the beautiful faith of Angoron, which exalts mighty men in their strength who wrestle! It's so beautiful!"
Primrose lets out a 'hmph!' noise worthy of a stuck-up noblewoman. "I cannot abide such lustful eyes in my presence! The Temple of Angoron is a holy place, O Noble Corona of Daeus!" Yes, she knows of Dolan all right. "It is my sanctum! Where I get to look at the finest of Angoron's faithful, their bodies toiling in service to our Iron Mountain! Until this interloper came along!"
... In other words, yes, they are watching the same men.
Aryia supplements Verna's question with a gesture towards the tiny fey duo, as if that would answer everything. But Dolan's insight gets her brows to rise further as she sits and listens. It's impossible for her to keep her composure, as a breathy wheezing comes from behind the scarf, followed by light coughing.
"Fuck me, that's funny, didn't know my suggestion would land Lily here. Anyways, you sound like you know your stuff about Angoron. You do know that its the beauty for all to behold?"
A glance to Lily. "... besides, you don't have anything to worry about, she'd pass out from the nosebleed before she could do anything." <Handspeech/Tongues>
Verna's focus remains on, and shifts between, the two pixies. "I seem to recall a discussion on this topic quite recently..." Then there is the realization that it only involved on of the pair... yet it appears that both share similar interests and propensities. "Indeed, the Angorites' respect for strength, vigor, and physical improvement also includes a desire to share the same with others. The quantity of spectators does not diminish the worth of the spectated. If it is a matter of disagreement over prime observation locations, however..."
One gloved hand makes a vague gesture to and between the Angorite admirers. "Perhaps a competive event is in order? Preferably on the grounds of the temple, in respect and deference to His regard, and that of his followers, to competition. They are quite fond of wrestling, for example."
Would such a competition solve the issue? Unlikely. Would two pixies wrestling in Angoron's name be in His traditions? Yes. Would the issue be moved to somewhere else? Most certainly.
GAME: Dolan rolls will: (19)+15: 34
For a moment, Dolan is left speechless by the conversation, and the indignant nature of Primrose's posturing. The corners of his lips twitch, the lone brown eye dancing, and it is quite obvious to the two bigfolk that he is desperately trying not to fall over laughing. Instead, though, he surveys the pair with one bright brown eye and a mobile face-half full of mirth. "Mourner Verna is quite right. A friendly competition would do honor to Angoron. Why do you think that Angoron would be offended by a lustful gaze, though? I mean, if he was a Sunblade who'd been cloistered since he was sixteen, maybe."
He continues to survey the pair. "Why not watch together?" he suggests. "Verna's right on that, too. Lots of people can watch, and more people watching doesn't diminish anyone's experience. Is there enough room in your watching spot to watch together? Maybe be the first to spot the new fighter?"
Primrose makes a humming sound that's not too dissimilar to a tea kettle about to blow. "No!" she says. "You don't understand, O Noble Corona!"
She grabs Lily-of-the-Valley by the hair and looks like for all the world that she's about to throttle the other pixie. "This idiot would be fine if she kept quiet while watching! But all she does, all she bloody does is comment stupid things! Like 'oh, I want him to step on me,' or 'oh, I want him to squish me in his big fists, he's so big'! She is RUINING my watching experience!"
"I'm just appreciating their burly, muscular figures! You can't tell me that you've never thought about a big hunky man full of strength just ending your existence before in bliss, Primrose!" Lily-of-the-Valley is shouting at the top of her little lungs to match Primrose's... enthusiasm. "Maybe we SHOULD wrestle! You wanna settle this the hard way, Primrose!?" She's snarling now, breathing like a miniature dog who believes she's about to mangle someone's face.
Aryia grows wide eyed at Verna's proposition, before she ends up half turning to the side and wrapping her arms around her gut. Muted coughs wrack her, each inhale a wheeze.
She finally gets the breathing under control, a hand massaging her throat. "Fuck me. Holy shit- okay. Yes, I agree with Dolan and Verna. Hash this out in the temple. I'm sure those guys will get you a ring set up and a nice, burly cleric to be the referee. And afterwards you both can shove your heads into some snow to cool off." <Handspeech/Tongues>
Verna blinks at Primrose's detailing of the finer points to the issue at hand. Her eyes widen shortly thereafter at Lily's addition of (possibly not so necessary) rhetorical questions for purpose. Then there is the further escalation of agression between the two. Her mouth opens.
She pauses. Then Verna considers, eyes panning aside to Dolan and Aryia who both appear thoroughly delighted and/or amused at the situation, to say the least. This is of little aid to Verna, who does eventually determine words to release. "Yes, wrestling is a fair manner, and the temple a proper venue. It would be inappropriate to murder one another and moreso if performed here."
GAME: Dolan rolls will: (3)+15: 18
"Ah, I see, Primrose." Dolan continues to watch the pair, still squatted down on his haunches in the snow, brown eyes still bright, although he has backed off from the laughter a little. "You want to watch without dirty talk. I understand, but there is only one sword that should come out just for dirty talk, and it's not the one you have in your hand. Have you asked her to stop?"
His entire head pans to Lily. "Not here, Lily. You two both need to cool off. A fight in genuine anger doesn't honor Angoron at all. Besides, do you want me to have to tell Tel and Lana that I was witness to a pixie catfight?"
Primrose flushes with Dolan's remark to her. It's a color that actually takes a resemblance to her flower-petal dress. "I-I-I--" It's hard for her to remember how to talk, apparently. Her hand falls from Lily-of-the-Valley's hair. "I don't have that kind of sword--"
"Oh please don't tell Lord and Lady Lupecyll-Atlon!" Lily-of-the-Valley pleads, now in full-on grovelling mode. She even shivers. "The Lady might feed me to that terrifying--but incredibly irresistible--grandfather of hers if she finds out!"
Primrose blinks, and she looks at Lily-of-the-Valley. "Wait a second," she says, her dark eyes narrowing. "That's right. I remember now. You're serving the Temptress of Alexandria! The Feathered One's mortal descendant. You and Mirabilis." There's a wide, wide grin that spreads on Primrose's face as she says, "You let me get a real nice look at the Feathered One... And then we have an honorable wrestling match in the eyes of Angoron at the Temple, and we settle our differences. Deal?"
Lily-of-the-Valley looks even more nervous for this proposal, looking between Aryia, Dolan, and Verna for help. "He'll definitely eat me if I start inviting other pixies over!" she says. "And as tempting of a death that is, I don't actually want to die like that! I want to live a long and happy life of looking at hunky boys! And being a good Angorite!" Is that last bit an afterthought?
Dolan's remarks leave Aryia gone. She's doubled over, face pressed into her knees and frame shaking with each breath. Hearing Primrose is the nail in the coffin, as the pugilist slumps over to the side, curled into fetal.
A shaky hand manages to gesture as Lily looks for aid. "Doesn't... hurt... ask..." It's something. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Verna's brows lift and pan to Dolan. Not in bemusement, but a level of confusion. As a literary and literal scholar, simile, metaphor, and even innuendo are not her strongest aptitudes. She has been improving, however? This is proven as her brows lower after several moments of thought, and her eyes dip briefly. "Ah, indeed... That is not the weapon I would most correlate, personally. A spear, by its design and use? Alternatively, perhaps a club, due to..."
Her audible musing trails off as she returns to the primary thread of thought: namely the matter of petite fae duels. Her attention returns to them as well. "You could certainly inquire of Grandfather," she concurs with Aryia. "As it appears that neither of you would wish to displease him, and you would make the effort in good faith," Verna notes to Lily-of-the-Valley before looking to Primrose, "that would satisfy the matter, yes?" A pause before she adds, "Aside from the match, itself, of course. In honor of Angoron, and any of His ... hunky boys that may be present, yes?"
It's close. Dolan lets out a bark of laughter at Verna's innocent musing, then quickly covers it, surveying the two pixies. Aryia is left to howl on the floor in helpless laughter, and he himself is barely managing to avoid doing likewise. Still, he clings to the role of wise helper like a shipwrecked man clings to a plank. "I'm going - to have to tell Andie that later, Verna." This comes out between chuckles.
"I'll wager the Feathered One would let you get a longer look and be less likely to eat anyone if you two aren't hostile to each other in front of him," he points out, curling arms over his knees, still struggling not to laugh. "I can even go with you and take you two to ask, yeah?"
Primrose is quivering a little in excitement (not that kind of excitement--although it can't totally be ruled out) at the suggestions given to her by Verna and Dolan. "Yes! We can settle this appropriately and in the most proper venues. I am told that the Feathered One has the most chiseled muscles in his open-chested robes--"
"Oh he's a hot and tall mug of tea, but he'll kill us," Lily-of-the-Valley replies wearily. "We'll have to be on our very best behavior! That means no rough-housing, no sword-waggling--unless the Feathered One is in a really good mood--and being as respectful as we can be! I won't even make a single dirty comment! Because he might actually step on me if I say it in his presence."
Primrose puffs out her chest again as she looks at Dolan. "Take me~!" And then realizing how that sounds, she clears her throat and adds, "Take Lily and I to the Feathered One!"
It's not until Verna's compares spears to clubs and talk of hunky boys that Aryia's howling is turned into mildly concerned hacking. There's a gross hawking, and a glob of bloody spit lands to stain the snow. "F-ck. M-. - n-d-d th-t," she hisses through coughs before picking herself up to a kneeling position.
"He's not that scary, just... just be nice and don't upset Cor'lana," she manages to gesture out before she rubs at her face them once more. "I can- fuck- I can go too, if you want, Dolan." <Handspeech/Tongues>
Interpretation and innuendo ineptitude aside, Verna turns from the pixies' praise of Grandfather to look to Aryia after the hacking. "You are well?" A simple inquiry with mild concern. Some of that concer lingers as she looks to Dolan following his volunteering to accompany and/or chaperone.
Verna's lips then purse into a note-quite-frown as she looks to the pair of woolen lumps yet in hand. She could replace them and return to her training with all sound blocked. Or... she exhales a sigh, "I could accompany as well, to best assist in preventing grievous errors... or to perform the proper rites afterwards."
The frozen look on the mobile half of Dolan's features clearly reads what have I gotten myself into? That thought is at least momentarily enough to cool some of the laughter that is threatening to seize him and put him in the snow right next to Aryia. He looks down at the glob of bloody spit, and back to her face. "You all right?" He waits for confirmation before continuing.
"You can come or not if you want to, both of you. Primrose," he looks down at the posturing, punctilious pink pixie, athe laughter firmly under control. "Lily's got a point. I don't mess with the Feathered One either. If you piss him or Lana off, that isn't Lily's doing. It is entirely your doing, and I've got nothing invested in protecting you if you make an arse of yourself. So behave, or you could get several people in trouble. Understand?"
While he waits for an answer, he offers Lily his left hand. "Up you get."
Primrose nods firmly. "I'll be a perfectly agreeable guest!" she says. Otherwise she misses her ticket to go look at a very handsome man.
Lily-of-the-Valley looks like she's won the lottery. "Ohhhh, don't mind if I do!" she cheers, taking his hand. "Off to Lord and Lady Lupecyll-Atlon's house!"
The walk isn't so bad. Lily-of-the-Valley rides on Dolan's left shoulder while Primrose rides on his right shoulder, an intentional act on Dolan's part. Thankfully, it looks like they're both too busy admiring Dolan to get into any squabbles with each other. In fact, the only remark that Lily-of-the-Valley has to offer is, "Your wife must be such a happy lady, Mr Dolan!" with a wistful sigh as they approach the house. "I mean, look at you. Tall, dark, and handsome!"
Primrose looks like she might be about to point out that everyone is tall compared to herself and Lily-of-the-Valley, but there's a familiar sight in the gardens: a rather tall man that could easily be mistaken for a man of mul'niessa heritage, were it not for the fact he's several inches taller than the vast majority of shadow elves. His pale gray skin is touched by light wrinkles only in a few places on his face, and his dark hair is neatly pulled back into a ponytail.
He also looks like he might have raided Telamon's closet--or maybe more accurately, took a few cues from it for designing his own wardrobe. Either way, those violet eyes of his that glow softly turn to look over the gated fence, and they blink. "Oh," comes the trademark deep-bell toll of the man known to a certain sorceress's friends as 'Grandfather'. "Salutations, all. Mister Donnelly, dear Verna, and... Coach Aryia, these days, yes? I read about your team in the Tribune."
Then his eyes fall onto the little pixies on Dolan's shoulders. "Have you found a wayward miscreant?" he asks, a look in his eyes as he regards Lily-of-the-Valley in particular. She shivers.
Aryia waves off the concern from the two with a few gestures. "I'm fine, thanks though. Happens when I lose my shit." Seeing as everyone was gearing up to go, the mute pugilist picks herself up and reaffixes her scarf before ambling along with the group towards the Lupecyll-Atlon abode.
Amused glances to the two pixies doting on Dolan are shot over before they get to the gardens. And there's... a mul'neissa? She squints. Wait, no, that's totally Him. She bobs her head at acknolweding the correct greeting, along with a little bow and a wince on her face. "So you've read how I got my shit kicked in. Well, at least you're aware of the team. Good day."
She takes a half step away as the violet gaze drops down to the two troublemakers. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Verna is satisfied with Aryia's answer and status and moves with the procession. For the first time today, she believes that the pair of pixies may remain quiet, or at least manageable, now that she recognizes their shared admiration for Dolan. He is a handsome man, afterall, in their perspectives.
"Greetings, Grandfather," she offers in return. "It is a pleasure to see you, as ever." The attire does not go unnoticed, it seems. "Did you craft new clothing? Or possibly bargained with Telamon for some of his? Regardless, the result is impeccable."
Attention drawn to Grandfather's clothes gets Aryia to eye it with a more professional gaze. There's a long moment before- she nods. Seamstress approved. "Looks good.
A bit of shifting on her feet with a minor glare shot at no one in particular. "I sure hope so. Dishonorable fuckers."
Attention shifts to the potential pixie-fight, an amused expression flashing across her face. A glance to Lily's pleading with Dolan. Grandfather. Lily. "... I never regret my actions, but damn is that being tested right now," she groans. <Handspeech/Tongues>
"Lily," Dolan answers warningly, swiftly revising his initial plan in the face of Grandfather's stated desires. "Your actions have a lot more say on whether you will be in trouble than I do. That goes for both of you," he adds to Primrose. "Lily is beholden to Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon, and I doubt I need to tell either of you what that means. As funny as a wrestling match would be, I suggest you both find a way to get along instead. That will keep Grandfather and me both happy."
First, he turns to Primrose. "That means not pulling out your sword every time someone does something you don't like." Then, he turns his head towards Lily. "That also means that your enjoyment of men-peeping needs to respect the rights of others. If you two can do that, I bet you can watch men together and discuss who's your favorite."
Grandfather's lips quirk up in a smile as he watches Dolan explain to the two pixies what they should do. "Mister Donnelly knows quite a lot about the wisdom of when to unsheathe a blade, Primrose," he says. "You'd be wise to listen to him. If this is all over a simple row... I've found, more often than not, that sometimes it comes from a misunderstanding."
Lily-of-the-Valley actually perks up at Dolan's explanation, to the point where she actually shifts so that she can look at Primrose on Dolan's other shoulder. "... I promise to be not so thirsty with my comments," she says. "Or I'll try to be. Old habits die really hard."
Primrose looks at Lily-of-the-Valley and she gives a small smile in turn. "You know, the Noble Corona has a point," she says. "They're not my hunky men or your hunky men. They're Angoron's hunky men!"
"That's right!" Lily-of-the-Valley is excited again. "We need to be respectful. But there's nothing wrong with looking."
The two pixies take flight from Dolan's shoulders to hover in front of the inquisitor, and... They shake hands. "World peace and hunky boys!" Lily-of-the-Valley declares. Primrose nods firmly to that.
There is a tiny part of Aryia that grimaces at not having 'two pixies wrestling in a cage match' crossed of the proverbial bucket list. Buuut, peace is far more favorable. Mostly. The mute gives a little sigh of relief as they make up.
"There. Now you two can watch Angoron's finest at your heart's content," she lightly grins. "I'm just glad Dolan's here, else I'd have advocated for the a match."
There is a moment where Aryia visibly walks the conversation back. She blinks. Then stares flatly at Grandfather. She caught the joke. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Dolan is hard-put to decide - should he smile for an agreement forged, or laugh like a hyena at how ridiculous it is. In the end, he settles for his trademark cheeky grin. "There you go. And I bet, if you ask really nicely, and don't get into fights, that Grandfather might just let you come over now and then. That's for him to decide, though, and you'll have to ask him."
Grandfather's crack widens the cheeky grin into a near-laugh. "I wouldn't have minded watching the match myself, but I don't think that'll help Lana any, and it probably wouldn't honor Angoron either." The laughter settles down. "I'm glad we could work this out."
"As I am as well," Grandfather replies, looking very smug as Aryia stares at him for the joke. For a man called the Feathered One, he can occasionally look like the cat who caught the canary--and then drowned it in a saucer of cream. "Now, I really do prefer the company of mortals to other fae, but if Lily-of-the-Valley can be respectful of the fact that this house is Cor'lana's home... Then perhaps she doesn't have to run and hide every time we see each other, mmm?"
Lily-of-the-Valley's eyes are wide like dinner plates. Obsidian dinner plates. "Oh wow," she says. And then she looks to Primrose. "Umm. Actually. You know what. I should introduce you to my pixie-sister, Mirabilis! Come on!"
The two pixies fly off, but Lily-of-the-Valley pauses to shout, "I appreciate you, sexy holy man!" at Dolan. "You too, Coach Aryia! And you three, lady-sister Verna! And, umm--bye, Your Featheredness!" Then they vanish into the bushes of the garden, little chattering beginning like it could easily be mistaken for the chittering of garden pests.
Grandfather chuckles. "'Your Featheredness'. I suppose I've been called worse." He regards the trio for a moment. "I'd invite you inside, but it's not my house, and I believe Cor'lana, Telamon, and Pothy are out on a stroll at the moment. I just stopped by to drop off something special." Here he points to a potted plant... that looks pretty unremarkable, except for the fact it's lavender in full bloom when it ordinarily shouldn't be. "I thought Telamon might appreciate some lavender from my garden."
He smiles. "May I offer to escort all of you to someplace warm? There's no shortage of places for the Arcanists' Society students to study. My treat."
Aryia simply snorts at Grandfather, rolling her eyes as she shoves her hands into the jacket pockets to ward off the cold. She looks amused as Dolan is barely contains a laugh. One hand retreats from shelter to give a little waggle to the departing pixies. "Later. Remember to breathe."
Absurd business concluded, she shifts her attention to the far more pressing presence. "Might have to workshop that title, doesn't roll off the tongue well," she shrugs to Grandfather before getting up on her tip toes to peer over the wall of the garden. Fey lavender. That totally won't take over the place. "Not a bad idea," she mentions of the gift.
A pause. "A warm place sounds nice." Passive agreement, learning! <Handspeech/Tongues>
Dolan looks bemusedly after the pair of pixies, then back to the other two. "I'm sure he'll very much appreciate that. Your offer's kind, but my wife'll be leaving Temple soon. I'd better go greet her and get us some supper. Brightest of days to the both of you." The look that says he wants to laugh has not faded in the slightest.
Grandfather chuckles at Dolan's comments. "I'm certainly not the type of man to keep another from the loving embrace of his wife," the fae man says. "A pleasant day to you, Mister Donnelly."
Which means he turns to the rest of those in his company and offers them a wide smile. "Shall we?"
'His Featheredness', Verna, and Aryia depart for warmer climates, where food and drink are served. It's a rather calm end to a rather weird encounter between two pixies in the snow.