A Day at Home

The bay that lay behind her home hissed softly in the warm morning, the trees reflecting the sound of the winds upon the water by adding their own deft sighs to the plesant sound. By contrast, the pale granite stone of the elfin girl's home was cool, still clinging to the raiments of winter though it was quickly fading from the wilds of Sosaria. In all, the breeze that drifted through the many windows in her room was a peaceful, refreshing thing, cool as well despite the warming sun, still retaining moisture from rushing across the sea. Yet - with all of this - Iwendari was still sick. Her half-focused gaze let the flagstones of the ceiling come in and out of focus without aim, simply breathing, gently so, the soreness in her neck, shoulders, back, legs - nearly everywhere, it seemed - a dull though opressive thing; she did not get sick very often at all.

Softly, the birds outside sang - a beautiful little tril of a song, Iwendari thought upon concentrating upon it - her azure gaze straying timidly to the dried flowers hanging from her bedpost - trying to move as little as possible. They swayed deftly, a soft rustling as they brushed against one another, and just barely - the slight elfin girl could think that she could still chatch their scent among the gentle moving breeze. With a soft irony in her smile, Iwendari sighed, closing her deeply blue eyes. 'It is a good day to be sick...though perhaps a better one not to be.' Twining carefully, Iwendari curled up once more in her satin sheets, a pale snowy blue and ever so soft. She could reverie the rest of the day like this, she thought. Something moist brushed her nose.

Blinking to oruse more than she had, Iwendari propped herself up with a slight wince, noting a small cloth folded over several times and dampened in a rather faint though pungent mixture which seemed to make her nose run the more she breathed its curious vapor. Delicately, her youthful elven features swept into a question, her azure gaze scanning the rest of the room and about her, finding a small bed-tray left convieniently close to the bedside itself, having what would certainly serve as breakfast she supposed, noting the silverware, as well as noting the lidded dish that seemed to be the largest of the small collection upon the serving table. More of the same cloth sat in a neat stack, dry however, though what probably contained the herbal concoction sat near to those, loosely lidded itself.

Before Iwendari could wonder more at this, a soft scuffle sounded at the bottom of the stair, followed by the delicate stucatto of someone clmimbing it. She did not have to wonder over whom it was for very long, for the moment she caught the midnight black hair and the pale white though graceful and sharp elven ears, Iwendari exhaled softly, laying back down somewhat troubled. 'Deleaduindill,'

He did not speak as he paced over to the small table, arranging things, opeing them, mixing, pausing as he noted that the salve had fallen off of Iwendari's head. He simply picked it up, held it close to his face seeing that it had lost its warmth, and set about to making another one - which he did - deftly helping Iwendari's head onto the pillow beneath her in such a way as to ensure the stability of the new salve. His golden, nearly slitted eyes never caught her own, for which, Iwendari was silently glad. Everything he did seemed as if it were an ediface of itself - as if he truly did not know how to do what he was doing - though some other, simple instruction he copied over and over guided him - though each time he started from its beginning, never truly learning. He was not clumsy or akward as a novice, though simply the measure of oneself that one invests in any number of thigs seemed...absent; no matter the apparent skill in which he posessed.

Deftly, his darkly armored hands picked their way across the fine dishes and instruments upon the tray, un-lidding what was indeed food - the slight fluff of steam coming from under the lid throwing a good number of rich, alluring smells from the dish which consisted of eggs, sliced ham, fried potatoes and fresh celery - the former few having been cooked amidst fresh minced onions, cabbage, and turnips. As Iwendari's gaze left the food, she caught Deleaduindill's eyes, looking right through her. The meek smile she wore faded somewhat - she was truly -not- hungry, indeed, the smells of the dish made her more queasy and in all truth - she did not know how to say such to Deleaduindill - it was certainly a nice gesture.

"Eat whatever you can, when you feel able. I cannot stay with you the day long, though you should be able to care for anyhting you might need with what I have gathered for you. Do you require anyhting afore I leave you?" His voice was deep, a faint melody being hidden in it amidst netural, nearly monotone airs. He did not blink, either, Iwendari noted for the inth time - such always she found interesting - if not mildly odd.

"No."

"By and by, Iwendari." Deleaduindill turned deftly, and in a moment he was gone.

A sigh of releasing tension left the slight elfin girl's fair lips, her azure eyes closing once again. 'I do not want to feel as though I suffer his presence...I do not want him to think that I do...A! Yet...why is he so? Who was my father to him that he - even twenty years on - acts as though he were in the enxt room listening?' This question stirred another, which was provocative in and of itself. Who was my father at all? Of course, Iwendari had seen her father - many times even - though he was an ill, prematurely aged elf that was nearly always in bed - though by the testimony of all that knew him he was a wizard of incredible power that could weild a blade with nearly as keen grace - though not a Bladesinger. 'Too weak of body - even when he was younger,' she reminded herself inly.

With another soft sigh, Iwendair entered a restless reverie, remembering - of all things - when her father had first introduced her to Deleaduindill.

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> The bay that lay behind her home hissed softly in the warm morning, the trees reflecting the sound of the winds upon the water by adding their own deft sighs to the plesant sound. By contrast, the pale granite stone of the elfin girl's home was cool, still clinging to the raiments of winter though it was quickly fading from the wilds of Sosaria. In all, the breeze that drifted through the many windows in her room was a peaceful, refreshing thing, cool as well despite the warming sun, still retaining moisture from rushing across the sea. Yet - with all of this - Iwendari was still sick. Her half-focused gaze let the flagstones of the ceiling come in and out of focus without aim, simply breathing, gently so, the soreness in her neck, shoulders, back, legs - nearly everywhere, it seemed - a dull though opressive thing; she did not get sick very often at all. > Softly, the birds outside sang - a beautiful little tril of a song, Iwendari thought upon concentrating upon it - her azure gaze straying timidly to the dried flowers hanging from her bedpost - trying to move as little as possible. They swayed deftly, a soft rustling as they brushed against one another, and just barely - the slight elfin girl could think that she could still chatch their scent among the gentle moving breeze. With a soft irony in her smile, Iwendari sighed, closing her deeply blue eyes. <I>'It is a good day to be sick...though perhaps a better one not to be.'</I> Twining carefully, Iwendari curled up once more in her satin sheets, a pale snowy blue and ever so soft. She could reverie the rest of the day like this, she thought. Something moist brushed her nose. > Blinking to oruse more than she had, Iwendari propped herself up with a slight wince, noting a small cloth folded over several times and dampened in a rather faint though pungent mixture which seemed to make her nose run the more she breathed its curious vapor. Delicately, her youthful elven features swept into a question, her azure gaze scanning the rest of the room and about her, finding a small bed-tray left convieniently close to the bedside itself, having what would certainly serve as breakfast she supposed, noting the silverware, as well as noting the lidded dish that seemed to be the largest of the small collection upon the serving table. More of the same cloth sat in a neat stack, dry however, though what probably contained the herbal concoction sat near to those, loosely lidded itself. > Before Iwendari could wonder more at this, a soft scuffle sounded at the bottom of the stair, followed by the delicate stucatto of someone clmimbing it. She did not have to wonder over whom it was for very long, for the moment she caught the midnight black hair and the pale white though graceful and sharp elven ears, Iwendari exhaled softly, laying back down somewhat troubled. <I>'Deleaduindill,'</I> > He did not speak as he paced over to the small table, arranging things, opeing them, mixing, pausing as he noted that the salve had fallen off of Iwendari's head. He simply picked it up, held it close to his face seeing that it had lost its warmth, and set about to making another one - which he did - deftly helping Iwendari's head onto the pillow beneath her in such a way as to ensure the stability of the new salve. His golden, nearly slitted eyes never caught her own, for which, Iwendari was silently glad. Everything he did seemed as if it were an ediface of itself - as if he truly did not know how to do what he was doing - though some other, simple instruction he copied over and over guided him - though each time he started from its beginning, never truly learning. He was not clumsy or akward as a novice, though simply the measure of oneself that one invests in any number of thigs seemed...absent; no matter the apparent skill in which he posessed. > Deftly, his darkly armored hands picked their way across the fine dishes and instruments upon the tray, un-lidding what was indeed food - the slight fluff of steam coming from under the lid throwing a good number of rich, alluring smells from the dish which consisted of eggs, sliced ham, fried potatoes and fresh celery - the former few having been cooked amidst fresh minced onions, cabbage, and turnips. As Iwendari's gaze left the food, she caught Deleaduindill's eyes, looking right through her. The meek smile she wore faded somewhat - she was truly -not- hungry, indeed, the smells of the dish made her more queasy and in all truth - she did not know how to say such to Deleaduindill - it was certainly a nice gesture. > "Eat whatever you can, when you feel able. I cannot stay with you the day long, though you should be able to care for anyhting you might need with what I have gathered for you. Do you require anyhting afore I leave you?" His voice was deep, a faint melody being hidden in it amidst netural, nearly monotone airs. He did not blink, either, Iwendari noted for the inth time - such always she found interesting - if not mildly odd. > "No." > "By and by, Iwendari." Deleaduindill turned deftly, and in a moment he was gone. > A sigh of releasing tension left the slight elfin girl's fair lips, her azure eyes closing once again. <I>'I do not want to feel as though I suffer his presence...I do not want him to think that I do...A! Yet...why is he so? Who was my father to him that he - even twenty years on - acts as though he were in the enxt room listening?'</I> This question stirred another, which was provocative in and of itself. <I>Who was my father at all?</I> Of course, Iwendari had seen her father - many times even - though he was an ill, prematurely aged elf that was nearly always in bed - though by the testimony of all that knew him he was a wizard of incredible power that could weild a blade with nearly as keen grace - though not a Bladesinger. <I>'Too weak of body - even when he was younger,'</I> she reminded herself inly. > With another soft sigh, Iwendair entered a restless reverie, remembering - of all things - when her father had first introduced her to Deleaduindill.
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