Alouette D’aureville

Alouette D’aureville

Colorful Feathers
Character Profile
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"Suppose I say 'summer,'
write the word 'hummingbird,'
put it in an envelope,
take it down the hill
to the box. When you open
my letter you will recall
those days and how much,
just how much, I love you."
-Raymond Carver "Hummingbird"

[This thread will take place over 7 days, with each day having a small task that needs to be done. Each day will be kinda short, with the completion of the task ending the day. However, I don't want to set it up as forcing everyone to participate in a task if they're not interested in it and think it would be fun if there were some come-and-go; however, I also don't necessarily want to force that either. I like the idea that anyone in the KOA can participate regardless of status. The tasks will be in this order: 1. Armor/Weapon Maintenance, 2. Horse/Stable care, 3. Weaponry training, 4. Kitchen help, 5. Lecture about magic/weaving, 6. Tending garden/chickens, 7. Making dyes.]​


DAY ONE: Armor and Weapons Maintenance Astenvale Monastery, early morning. ​

Ulrika was still asleep when Alouette awoke. She looked at her roommate sprawled about on her bed with a leg hanging off. She had kicked off her blanket while she had tossed and turned. Ulrika's strawberry blonde hair was a tangled mess about her face, hiding her sleeping eyes from Lou. While Ulrika looked uncomfortable, Lou knew better than to wake her. Ulrika was notoriously not a morning person, huffing and puffing and stomping about. She'd knock things over, kick the small trash bin, and slam the door on her way out. One time, she ignored Lou until late afternoon, waiting until she felt awake to discuss with Lou that waking her up before she needed to wake up was not a thing to do unless the Monastery was on fire.

Quietly, Lou got out of bed. She made sure to avoid the creaking floorboards as she got dressed, pulling off her simple, muted nightgown to slip on pants, tunic, socks and boots. She brushed her short brown hair, glancing out the window to see the first change of color in the sky. Soon enough, the sun would rise, and Ulrika's alarm would go off just as the sunlight filtered into the window. (It would also go off again ten minutes later if Ulrika hadn't gotten up the first time.)

A streak of gold darted across the window. Lou paused, and sure enough, another flash of gold. Curious, Lou moved towards the window, leaning her face close and tilting it so she could look to the left—a golden bird, small yet bright, with humming wings. For a moment, both hummingbird and human stared at each other, and time fell still. Lou smiled, and the bird flew away, off toward the training grounds. A pleasant feeling settled within Lou's breast as she headed out the door, Ulrika rolling over behind her.

"I've never seen a such a bright hummingbird before," Lou said to those close to her as they got about to handling the first chore of the day. Maintaining the armor and weapons used for training was never fun. While it was mindless work, it was also time-consuming. The mail hauberks had to be rolled about in leather sacks with sand, which always left Lou feeling a muscle burn in her shoulders and thighs. She didn't have the best form for that task, but luckily, she had come in early enough to snag one of the few oiling rags. Some squires filed out the notches in the training blades. Others had the tedious task of properly mending leather armor and restitching bits and pieces back.

"It was as gold as the sun. I don't think I saw any green or red or brown... oh, maybe a little bit of black around its beak?" Lou paused, looking up at the sky. "Its front might have been a bit more orange now that I think of it, and there was white on its lower side, but really, the wings were all gold. It was incredible. I wonder where it came from." Why had she never seen one before now? She had been a squire for almost two years, and while hummingbirds did migrate, she knew nearly all the sorts of birds that passed by or made their home at the monastery. "Maybe it got lost," Alouette murmured thoughtfully before going back to the work at hand.
 
"That sounds like something you'd see in the South." Cyd beamed down at the young squire sitting next to her. "In Crown's Hold, I saw a bird like a heron but it was all white, even down to its beak. And further still, in Arshakan, I've read there's birds with brilliant plumage - reds and greens and blues all on the same wing."

Tending to the armor wasn't a task that Cyd was expected to do, as most Sworn maintained their own equipment, keeping it in their quarters. Usually the chore was divyed up between the squires, a lesson in diligience. A knight was only as keen as their tools, after all. But Cyd could be found weekly in the armory. She enjoyed the chatter more than the work itself. It was a good way to put names and manners to the squires before they grew up too fast around her.

Lou, for example, was an observant girl. She kept to herself mostly, and only spoke if she thought something was worth saying. Truth be told, Cyd didn't know much about birds, or why a yellow-winged one might be more important than any other. But it was the most words she had ever heard the young squire say, so she was inclined to listen.

"Or, maybe, it wasn't a bird at all that you saw, but a curious spirit."
 
In some other corner of the armory, Roki sat surrounded by leathers, skins, and cottons. Cross legged and upon the floor, with a tall straight back, and a needle held firm betwixt strong fingers. His eyes squeezed narrow with the focus of their attention. Fixed upon the plane of his work. Buttons needed fixing, leather needed oiling, and seems needed mending.

Gambesons and jerkins piled about in some chaotic scheme. Almost fractal in how they all spread, one on top of the other, almost color coded in how they turned gradient in their stacks, rays of a multi colored sun from the locus that was the young Weaver.

Toilsome work, really. He'd much rather put the needle to a good bit of embroidery, if he were tell it true. Patterns and imagery brought out by brightly colored twine. He swore, as a weaver, threads laid into his robes in such a way helped him channel his energies two fold! Maybe more even.

Yet. It was maintenance duty for him. All pluck and pull and dip and push in a rhythm he found benefited from mindlessness. Though perhaps the term empty mind was more apt than without mind. When he had stitched without his mind in that act he had stabbed himself more than once or twice. Even drew blood. That was then though. And this was now. An empty mind.

Made listening all the easier though. And Lou was telling a story of sorts. He liked that bit as much. Least as much as he could like a person's voice as he kept his boredom away.

"Spirits have been known to make an appearance, come the change of the seasons," he said absently, pulled through his last needle dip and brought the bright red string just tense enough behind the handsome walnut button he had fixed onto the forest green gambeson. Tied a quick knot behind the button, pinned the needle, and brought a fine pair of crane-headed scissors up to snip clean the cord. Laid flat the fabric onto the floor before him and smiled proud of his bit of work.

One down, who knew how many more to go.
 
The South. Lou's brows knitted together. She had never been south, but had seen pictures of birds from other lands in the library. She couldn't quite remember them, though Syr Cydonia had brought a few exceptionally bright and colorful sketches to mind. Her lips pursed, not from concentration but from a suggestion of grandeur.

"A spirit." Lou breathed, glancing from Syr Cydonia to Roki. She felt guilty as he mended. She was one of the fastest at this task, with it coming to her like muscle memory. Lou hadn't realized that she had paused in her task while worrying over Roki and promptly picked up her earlier momentum before she started talking about a golden hummingbird.

"I suppose spring is riding toward us." But gold reminded her of the sun and of summer's heat. Wouldn't a spring hummingbird be pink or new-bud green? Lou frowned, debating if she had a mortally human perception of the seasons. Perhaps, she thought, the seasons perceived themselves as colors not assigned to them. Lou raised her head, looking towards Syr Cydonia.

"But wouldn't it make more sense for a spirit of spring to look at you instead of me, Syr? Even Roki makes more sense. Spirits search for their likeness, don't they?" Or something like that. Lou's isolated village had stories about gods and spirits; it was a learning curve to come to the Monastery and learn the history of the Mother and the Shroud. It had made Lou feel like a country bumpkin, and her illiteracy hadn't helped with the feeling.

@Cydonia @Roki
 
Cyd shook with a soundless chuckle at Lou's compliment. "Flattery won't get you out of here any faster, young lady," she teased with a smile.

The needle in her hand was dull. Cyd wasn't practiced enough to notice, as she forced thread through thick fabric one burdensome stab at a time. She'd picked a bright blue to go over a yellow gambison, enjoying the garish contrast of the patch.

"To be quite honest, I'm a bit daft when it comes to spirits. Even if one did visit me, I don't think I'd be able to tell the difference." Cyd lifted needle up high, and tugged the thread too tightly. "Well, there's the Captain's ur-wolf, I suppose. But he hardly counts." A nod towards the wash of fabrics and buttons that a certain orkin floated amongst. "What about you, Roki? Ever seen a spirit firsthand?
 
"A spirit?" he asked, head popped up, eyes of candle-glow pointed at the golden haired syr. "Aren't they just like, animals?" he asked, brow quirked. "Sept they can talk, and pull on the shroud, and do all kinds of weird things," his eyes seemed to buzz, and his shoulders set to shake. Paused a moment, tapped needle to chin. Once, twice, thrice as he scanned the ceiling.

"I thiiink," he let the thought stew. Nod. "Weren't the shamrock drakes a kind of spirit?" he asked Lou, bright eyed and wide smiled. Chopped hand into palm. "Little guys, that guard the luck!" he remembered learning in one of their classes.

His big head leaned to one side. Tusks poked out as his lips slant and his hair spilled over with the movement. "Or were they just little creatures..." the thought fell out. Replaced by a swirl of so much more.
 
Roses bloomed on Lou's cheeks; she had meant it as an observation. She felt silly for being wrong. Syr Cydonia was a sun elf, wasn't she? Lou liked the idea that there were others like her village, separate but united in their connection to the world, the forests, the creatures, big and small, opaque or transparent. Lou had grown up believing that gods bleed gold, that everything about them was as radiant as the sun. It was silly to confuse Syr Cydonia with that expectation, after all, here she was amongst the squires, holding a dull needle.

Lou didn't feel brave enough to correct her, nor even to offer the Knight a needle from the small wooden box within her pocket. She would have if she knew just how much she'd lament over it when trying to sleep.

"Guard or horde?" Lou shot back with a slight grin, remembering how fussy they had been when the two of them tiptoed into the patch of clover ripe with luck. Even the clover pixies, hardly fae and more Idolomantis, had thrown a fit at two clumsy young adults drunk off the chirps of baby birds and the view of crane nests. She looked at Roki's wrist, the shape of woven clovers visible when he moved his hands, which he often did. They had found no four-leaf clover that time, perhaps too silly and too happy to concentrate. Or maybe Lou hadn't been determined enough to see them until the thought of making a gift for Roki entered her mind.

"I guess it's hard to tell, and I get why that makes sense," Lou said suddenly, looking down at the armor and her blurry reflection with no eyes and only a fuzzy pink line for her pursed lips. "Maybe if I were more skilled with the loch I could tell," but she wasn't, and that pursuit seemed to involve a lot of reading. She much preferred working with her hands, and so she grabbed a helmet that she had been avoiding.

"But I think I like the idea of it being a new sort of hummingbird. A whole new species with many more like it, and it has a family. Maybe the females are black and gray and look sort of silver, and then the babies could be all white or all black until they get their adult feathers." A dreamy, contented sigh. "We could call them shining... solar... bright... blazing...." Lou shook her head, letting the words bounce off each other in her mind. "I guess gold hummingbird would be a good enough name even if the females are silver." But her face said otherwise.

@Cydonia @Roki
 
The smile on Cyd's face turned apologetic. She felt like she had disappointed the girl in some way, though she couldn't figure out what it could have been. Luckily, Roki kept the mood light. Grateful for the distraction, Cydonia quietly vowed not to listen too hard to what she was sure was the retelling of an unsanctioned meeting between the two.

Okay, maybe she was listening as she narrowed back down into her needle work... but she wouldn't tell any of the Masters.

"What about... shimmering hummingbirds!" Cyd pursed her lips, doubting the suggestion as soon as it left them. "No, too much of a mouthful..."

The patch on the gambison was looking quite sturdy, though the colors made it look more like a juggler's coat than a knight's. Pleased with her work, Cydonia folded up the garment and set it aside. She was not quick to pick something new to work on.

"Hm, I think you'd have to see more of them to decide. Maybe these gilded birds have something else unique about them, like they're carnivorous or something. Then you'd have to throw the coloration right out the window and call them flesh-eating hummingbirds instead."
 
A big smile turned bigger. Made his eyes crinkle up with laugh lines, with tusked teeth making him look much like a jack-o-lantern, far too early for the autumn season. "Greedy little buggers, weren't they?" he asked, fondness creeping in as heat in his voice. Warm off the tongue, like the sun they'd shared neath the trees and in the bushes. Could even remember the scratch of the grass, and the smell of the wind.

His eyes speyed on Lou. Pink lipped and pouty as she looked at her reflection in the helm. Breath full in his head. Heart loud between his ears.

What about... shimmering hummingbirds!

Roki snapped out of it. Face flush with warmth. Arm worked fast. He stitched like mad for a few rows. Pulled one last one through, up and high to let the string run. A little hummingbird embroidered there on the chest of the gambeson. Red thread against cool blue linen.

"Twilight hummingbirds!" he proclaimed. Blinked. Hand still high in the air with needle there betwixt pointer and thumb. "On account of..." his hand fell slow back to rest on his knee. "Them being gold, and silver," he said as he looked between the two. Eyes rested on Lou, along a dumb smile.
 
“A lot of hummingbirds get named after those who find them,” Lou mused, considering the options given. She liked them all, though flesh-eating was lower on the list. A hummingbird sticking its beak into the soft, rotting flesh of a corpse was not as idyllic as a hummingbird sticking its beak into a red flower. “Not in my village though.” Lou smiled. She much preferred her village’s naming conventions when it came to living things, each one so sacred that to attach a mortal name felt insulting.

“Shimmering Twilights would be a good name.” It was a name that could belong to flowers or a fairy, a name that brought forth an image unique to each mind. It was the sort of the name that held grandeur and yet still organic. It was something that suited hummingbirds, known for such bright feathers and the way they zoomed about gardens.

“If I see it again, maybe I can see if it likes it?” She set the final piece of armor aside. Normally, she would put away everything and then rush to breakfast. Her stomach growled, as it normally did around this time. This time, Lou stayed. “I can… help?” She offered, tentatively, as if she expected to be rebuked. Was it insulting to offer help to Cydonia, a knight with skills that Lou had yet to hone? Was it insulting to offer help to Roki who had just stitched a red hummingbird? “I’m much better with a needle than a sword.” Certainly both knew that already.
 
There was still a lot of equipment to go through. Roki's to-do pile was strewn about him in an order that was only traceable by the young orc, a shift of scissor and thread at the eye of the storm. Cydonia's was stacked neatly next to her on the bench where she sat. Both were woefully still in the middle of it, even as Alouette wrapped up her own work.

It was very sweet of Lou to offer help. Cyd flashed an approving grin at the gesture, thinking it suitable for a dawnling-to-be. Another garment was plucked from her pile, this time a torn pair of pants. She held her needle in one hand, and the fabric in the other, offering it up to Lou. "Perhaps we can trade lessons, then?" she asked. "Teach me how to stitch a straight line, and we can go out in the yard for a round of practice."

The gurgle had not escaped her notice. She deepened her smile some. "After breakfast, of course."
 
"Oh!" he said, too loud. Laughed. "I'd pay to see that," he nodded, grin too wide. "The battle of the babes,"
 
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