Fire in the Gardens

The rain had dampened the interest to wade through the Gardens - but somebody had set up a pair of chandeliers in the middle of it. Their flames continued to flicker in the slow rain. In the middle of them, a ruddy scaled sith-makar was slowly moving - holding his glaive, he was slowly through a set of motions. Leg rises up to a kick, before he slowly rolls the tip of his glaive down.

The rain had made his scales particularly bright and lustrous, with his red ribbons and loincloth sticking to his scales.

The Goblin is settled on a bench nearby. Her confusion and curiosity have not yet caused her to ask what exactly Aelwyn was doing, but she did stop to huddle under her leather cloak, hood pulled up over her head. Her notebook is mostly sheltered from the rain, but she does not yet sketch, merely watching for now.

Aelwyn continues to move his body in those slow measurement movements, his body moving what appears to be a set path. Sinuously he bends and twists - up until the end of his polearm snags one of those torches and he hoists it up.

"White been staring for long?" The draconian asks then with a gleaming grin, holding the polearm with its firy prey over his shoulder; hand on hip.

"I'm just watching til I figure out what you are doing.", she says softly. "Then maybe I shall draw you."

She pulls her cloak more closely around her. "Wouldn't it be nicer doing this indoors?"

Aelwyn tilts his head, looking at Simony. "She is going to draw this one?" He asks, with surprise evident on his eyes. He gives his polearm another fling and snacks the orb like firespot from the end of his polearm. "It is hard to practice indoors." He points out with a flick of his tail. "And this one felt doing it in the Gardens today."

"Yes, one supposes, but, won't your fires go out, eventually, due to the wet?" She pulls her knees up, turning sideways slightly. From a bag on her hip, she pulls her notebook, and a pencil. Setting the notebook on her legs, and pulling on her cloak for more cover. "No cloak to be seen?"

Aelwyn gestures with his hand holding the pot of fire. "This one cannot control the skies." The Dragoon responds, before he makes his way over. Moisture continued to slide along his scales and the mane of quills he had. He leans over the Gobbo and peers at the notebook. "... is she simply going to draw this one as is?" He clicks his teeth, straightening. "But this one did not do anything as spectactual as Ribbon did."

"I am waiting for inspiration.", she says softly. "A sketch doesn't need to be spectacular. A body in motion, even a slow dance, can be dramatic and show tension." She cants her head slightly, "What are you proposing we do to make it spectacular?"

Aelwyn twists his lips, rumbling as he cants his hips the other way. "A slow dance 'can' be dramatic? Tch, is that the amount of impression this one has left her?" He flashes his teeth at the Gobbo. Turning around and stepping back towards the circle, his tail sways behind him with his rolling gait as his buttocks flex under the red loincloth. "Would it be easier for her to be within indoors to sketch, or shall she remain content to simply watch?"

"I can sketch out here.", she says with a grin, "The cloak will keep me mostly dry, and my notebook also. Besides, where could we go that is indoors that has room for you to move around."

Simony poses a moment. "And won't catch fire."

Aelwyn stretches his arms and body, lifting up the glaive and giving her more than a good view of his flexible back. Finally relaxing, he turns around and gives her another of his flashy, macabre grins, that were not at all made less macabre by the dull rain and light off the flames. "Then..."

The ruddy sith-makar was a bit stumped.

"... how would White want me?" He then flat out asks, not sure what to do now. He was obviously not that used to getting drawn.

"Dryer and with less distractions from the body.", she replies in a quiet voice. "Maybe indoors. Just not sure where, is all." The Gobbo puts pencil to paper, and begins to draw Aelwyn, in the stance where his shows off his back.

Aelwyn tilts his head and looks over his shoulder. "Is she not wishing to draw this one's body?" Finally he bends over and puts down the lantern, before he starts to slowly move his glaive around. Rolling his shoulders, he resumes his previous slow movements; stretching out his legs in the air as he balances by the clawtips. "Or is this one's body distracting her?" He rumbles with the tip of his tail flicking. "Wet in the rain?"

Despite the cool and rainy day elsewhere, inside the Gardens it is warm, with the barest of gentle breezes. It still rains, however, and the power of the Gardens does nothing to chase the gloomy clouds away.

Somewhere near the middle of the part are two large, covered lanterns upon the ground. Between them, bearing a glaive, a Ruddy-scaled Makari dances, pole and body moving sinuously together.

At a bench nearby, an albino Goblin sits, a large leather cloak protecting her from the rain, and she huddles over a notebook, where she sketches something, the pencil almost blurring.

"No, that was a subtle hint to the condition of your clothing.", Simony says, "And that it'd be nice if we were indoors. Not getting dripped on."

A broad-rimmed black hat with a black silk ribbon sits tilted at a jaunty angle on the head of the elf who meanders through the gardens. Parasol in hand, Asphodel glides through the gardens as if it were a lovely spring day. Her own clothing is toned down, elegant but simple, as if she thought it rude to outshine the flowers.

In other words, "elf" is written all over her.

"I am so sorry," She says in a soft voice, approaching Simony and Aelwyn. Her hands are visible, no threat indicated, and her smile is dreamy, soft. "Did you say clothing?" The breeze pushes through her hair, carrying the scent of her perfume, lost as it is in the floral aromatics of the gardens. "I came to this city for exactly that."

Aelwyn continued his methodical movements, slowly cutting through the air with his feet, then glaive, then hands. The ruddy sith-makar's scales were particularly lustrous and bright in the light rain. He was doing his routing in the middle of few burning lanterns. "She is planning to draw this one's clothing now? This one is confused." He rumbles in amusement as he straightens to a more standing position.

Which is all and well, when Asphodel approaches them. Turning towards the 'Elf' with capital E, the Sith tilts his head. He was not wearing that much clothing, and what he was was stuck to his body. His orange eyes turn towards Simony, then back towards Asphodel. Lazily, he hoists the polearm over his shoulders. "Then this one believes Stranger could have chosen worse cities." He replies, with a bow of his head and then a flash of his teeth. "Yet the Trades are over there." He gestures.

Asphodel laughs, a surprisingly frank and hearty sound from a woman who could be described as 'toothpick frail'.

"No, no, I apologize. I just heard something about clothing, and needing new clothes. I just arrived in the city," She says while discreetly taking out a handful of gold coins from a drawpurse. "It's tradition," she says, awaiting an opening to politely and subtly pass money and save face for all involved. "It's considered a good luck blessing, to share the last of one's wealth when arriving at the end of a destination. It's... honoring the prayers one made for safe travel. Or I could Mend your clothing?" She offers.

The Goblin peers at Asphodel as she approaches the two, and her ears twitch slightly as she listens. Her gaze returns to Aelwyn. "No. I am suggesting perhaps that you either have too many clothes, or not enough, as if you have chosen an uncomfortable place in the middle. Thus, distracting. Dissonant. The cloak would have done wonders, here."

Looking back to the Elf, Simony blinks as Aelwyn is offered coin by the Asphodel. Her expression grows shrewd, and she again eyes Aelwyn, as if to gauge his response.

Now that was something new. Aelwyn's chest expands and he looks over towards Simony, drilling the white Gobbo with an accusatory stare. This situation definitely was the albino sketcher's fault, somehow. Not the fact he was getting drenched upon by the rain in his stubborn fashion sense.

Eyes turning towards Asphodel, the ruddy sith-makar shakes his head. "This one will not," Aelwyn responds with some due regret, "This one appreciates the tradition, yet this one cannot fall into the debt of another." His tail whips behind him as he glances towards Simony, before his hand gestures towards her instead. "The clothes are fine, if not wet, but perhaps the gold coin could be offered to White instead? Her skill with the pen is remarkable, if Stranger wishes for a portrait."

"Then I give freely," Asphodel says, spreading her hands. As her fingers part, coins plummet faster than the rain at Aelwyn. "I do not do debt," She says, the lingering distaste for the word wrinkling her nose. "That is a human concept, and a terrible one at that. Your only debt is to yourself, and my only debt is to help others on their way through."

Simony stares right back at the Sith. "It would be just fine, but let me guess, you simply left it folded up somewhere. Perhaps used it as a pillow?" The pencil continues, unhindered by conversation or the rain.

She giggles as the Sith is showered with coin. "You have another admirer.", the Gobbo says with a snort. Looking to Asphodel, she shrugs. "There are many who use the concept of debt. Goblins. Khazad. And so on. It works well enough, though you are right in that it can be abused, and people can get trapped."

Aelwyn was again, not prepared to getting showered by gold today. Or having his clothes so thoroughly criticized. Taking in a deeper breath, as not to get completely agitated, he bows his head stiffly. "This one cannot accept even then. A barter is equal trade." Doing his best to pick up the gold coins off the ground, he gathers them into a small pouch and instead, brings them over to Simony. "This one believes it is better served to White."

The sith-makar has had enough battles over ideological differences over money, so he takes the middle ground. Bowing his head once more, he picks up the lanterns off the ground, and tilts his head towards Asphodel. "This one appreciates Gold's attempts, yet it is ill-placed. But welcome to the city, this one is certain her generosity will be appreciated."

Aelwyn turns towards Simony and bows his head, "White." And with that, the sith-makar starts to head along the Garden district, still trying to ruminate his head over what happened.

"I respect your decisions and values, good sir," Asphodel says, the fist hint of an accent and a non-Common phrasing reaching her mouth. "Have a wonderful day!"

The GOblin looks surprised as he drops a pouch of gold into her hands. "But... this was for you.", she says to the retreating Sith. "I'm not down your drawing either!" She lets out a sigh, and glances to Asphodel. "That was Aelwyn, and I am Simony."

"Asphodel," Asphodel says, canting her head with a smile. "Lovely to meet you, and even lovelier, your name. I'm relatively new to the city. I've been before, but..." Trailing off, she shifts her parasol against a scurrying breeze. "Well, it's always good to see artists out and about."

"Yours a lovely name, too.", Simony says with a grin. "Oh, I hope she is treating you well." The Goblin slips her notebook and pencil back into the bag on her hip. She moves to stand, bare feet slapping onto the wet stone below.

"I am an adherent of Navos, on of his small priestesses. It is nice to meet you. My art is my favourite hobby, after knowledge, languages and study."