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Vyn

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The night unfolded ahead like the tarp Jem struggled with earlier. Slowly, then all at once. Too warm for coats, but too cool for sleep. An evening of in-betweens. Air felt snug, and the fire licked higher than it should. The Wagons had already said their goodnights. The big fire was dying. People shuffled to the smaller ones. Vyn sat cross legged at one. Its muted glow sent a clear message. It was a fire of warmth, not one of vision.

She was already one cup in. Not enough to dull. Enough to notice the presence of another flame, deeper inside. The night no longer felt as sharp. When you burned on both ends warmth no longer felt out of reach. The bottle rested between them, uncorked now. Pale gold and firelight. Labeled in Elum tongue, it promised little and threatened even less. Rahim's tongue, vintage unknown.

„This“ Vyn said with reverence. „Is story water. Drink enough, you don't stop talking. Drink more, and we won't stop talking about you in the days to come.“ She poured two. One chipped. One hornshaped. Elum craftsmanship, ugly with pride. Passed one over.

„You don't have to tell me nothin'. But the water's real good at listening.“ She stopped for a moment before adding. „And I won't tell a soul. Except maybe Jem. And only if it's really good.“

Smile grew with every word.

„So you wanna go slow? Or do we skip to the parts people leave out?“
 
Dove was told to expect a 'surprise' this evening. And surprises from Vyn were always truly that.. surprises. Sometimes, they were, genuinely surprises. A blanket to keep her warm. A very particular sweet treat that someone down the grape vine must have shared. Then, sometimes, they were traps. Jokes. Mischiefs. Things designed, and created specifically to ruffle her. Specifically. And the more she got ruffled. The more fun they had.

Over her time with the Elum so far, she has learned that this was a love language of sorts within the wagon. She had grown to tolerate it, somewhat.

And, in a way- it was becoming a comfort familiarity. At this point, if she went a day without someone trying to ruffle her, she would assume that there was a widespread sickness that urgently needed her attention.

So needless to say: she wasn't quite sure what to make of 'story water'.

Her feathers seemed suitably riled, as she squinted at Vyn with distrust. ".. What story do you exactly want me to tell you?" she asks, pointed, and sharp. Much like with other drinks, Dove sniffs it, gives it a good poke, a soft taste test. Oddly enough- it was sweet, and tasted quite pleasant in her mouth. Surely- this was a trap.. right?
 
She had learned the language of feathers. She wasn't as fluent as she'd like, but she liked to think herself conversational. So when Dove puffed up, she would move before a puff became a talon.

„Lemme start“ She looked at the hornlike thing in her hand. Light catching in the reflection. Like a poison. Like a story.

„This one's easy. Cause I tell it all the time. Just never out loud.“ She sipped for dramatic effect. Licked her teeth and wondered if it would be terribly inhospitable if she just hogged the bottle. „There's this girl. Looks like me. Sounds like me. Has better posture.“ She leaned back, unoccupied arm hanging lazily over her knee. „She only shows up when I lie down. Never in the morning. Just a blink between. That's her moment.“ One hand flourished in a circle. The other made itself useful. Next words still tasted orange when they came out. „And she's real polite. Most times. Leaves the body folded like a blanket. Doesn't even drool on it.“ Another sip.

Only one shoulder shrugged.

„Some say dreams are just us. I say she's someone else entirely. But she's never told me who. Not really. Still waiting on that part.“

Grin grew wider now. Crooked.

„Your turn ghost doctor.“
 
Dove glanced at her, the feather's slightly softening a bit, as Vyn laid back. Her eyes following her body language, trying to discern if this was another shenanigan from the Deva. But, there didn't seem to be anything that would indicate she had an ace up their sleeve, a prank behind her back. Just a strange desire to be open today. And apparently, this 'story water' would help with that. A part of her wondered what drove this initiative tonight.

She sipped, with each word, savoring the flavor. It tasted very good. Fruity. With citrusy afternotes. She hardly notices how quickly the water is draining, as she remains focused on each one of her words. There is something discernable in her eyes, warmth, desire. Empathy. But also hesitation.

So naturally, after a few moments have passed and she's asked to speak, does the bird poof. More out of surprise, not just at the sudden call for attention- but also at the sudden warmth that was expressed across her cheeks, the blanket of heat that fell to her chest. Her feathers ruffled unevenly, both responsive, and her face moved with an unchained level of animation that she normally didn't wear.. which in this exact moment?

A sweet giggle that bursted from her chest like little fluttery butterflies.

"She sounds like a kind lady. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from her. Though, it was rather unfair for you to make me pay a tithe so soon. Usually you feed the person first." she winked. Dove winked. Wrap your mind around that.

"... I do not know what you want me to tell you. I guess, I can tell you that- um.. there are more? Like me? Little white birds that can heal?" she offered. "You'd have to be more specific, I guess, on what you want."
 
Looking at the woman, it was quickly apparent that she wasn't much of a drinker. She thought abut taking the drink from her when Dove's next comment made her snort the liquid back up. Messy enough to spill the drink. Quiet enough, she hoped, not to break the bird's spirit. Vyn could barely contain herself as sleeve made for a handkerchief. „Careful. You'll make me like you.“ The smile softened and she looked more serious now. „I just want you to feel safe. For a moment. Maybe two.“ Silence was uncomfortable so she poked the fire. There! Better already. „By the time the third one comes, it'll already be habit.“

Without asking, she set her hand gently atop Dove's cup. Light, but firm. „Easy there. Stop hogging the booze.“ Once more her voice wasn't matching her eyes. She hoped Dove knew how to throw up properly. She shot up quickly and the lights in her eyes weren't happy. Blinking away the dizziness, she was ready to push through.

„Let's get something to eat! Before we start singing or crying.“ Or throwing up. „I refuse to do either on an empty stomach!“
 
Dove giggled. "Oh? I thought you already did. Shame." she snickered, not really one to protest any of the movements really. She didn't have much in the way of strength. She surrendered the cup, making a sort of mixture of noises. Something between giggling, and chirping. Tweeting. "Wish you wouldn't try so hard though.." she mumbled, as she moved to her feet. "I don't think anything in this world will ever make me feel safe again. So it's not worth the effort." Said so casually. So off-handed. Natural, like an instinct. The sharp contrast of her warmth, met with the brutality of truth.

She moves to stand, because quite clearly, Vyn was hungry- and obviously they were not going to find the food here. The problem was- Dove was quite clearly toasted. Suitably merry. The product of someone with a total body mass of a loaf of bread consuming alcohol. She tried to take a step- ignoring the haloes around the lights and the lack of focus. Stagger- stagger, she would stand. Stagger-stagger.. she would stand still again.

Eventually, at one point, she reaches into her robes, into her chest, and rips.. some strange bits of leather out? She drops it to the ground, where she was resting. A kink? No- Dove's small ,but very white and fluffy wings burst from the side of her body. She flapped erratically as she walked- but at least she was able to keep her balance a little better.

".. W.. Well- are.. are you coming?" she asked, confused to Vyn. "I.. I bet Jem- he probably has something.. he always does.." she mumbled.
 
Vyn felt something inside her sour. That one sentence. She wasn't sure what to make of it. Coin bouncing at the bottom of a dry well. Small thing. Big noise. It came out too even. Like it had practice. There was a story there. „I knew there was a laugh inside you.“ She resisted the urge to elbow the fragile creature. „Just didn't know it'd take a drink to find it.“ Righted them both with practiced cheer.

She watched the bird, and it was difficult not to see her as such, stumble up and down. She nearly grabbed her by the hand when the wings came out. Understanding what it meant it a camp full of drunk Elum, she quickly signed to the Nightline.

Drunk – Watch – Child – Capture

And it seemed to work for the moment, because she didn't see a bunch of kids hanging off of her asking for flying lessons.

She picked her teeth with what Dove said once again. Thought about safety. About effort. Wanted to pick at the fresh wound before it scabbed over. It was gone with the shake of her head. Not here. Not tonight. Let her be free a tad longer.

She stepped up to the small creature, struggling between quickening her pace and ducking under the fold of Dove's wing. Trying to remain close without grabbing the smaller woman.

„Alright, flight risk.“ Vyn exhaled audibly, grin back up. „Lead the way.“

She got real quiet. „If anyone catches us, we blame Marcy.“ Conspiracy in her voice.

Didn't say I got you. Didn't need to.
 
"Y'know.. I've been thinking: everything gets blamed on Marcy.. you know-" Dove turned her head towards Vyn with a pout. "And th- Then we wonder why she gets in-tah trouble." she added onto more. The wings flapped, smacking gently against Vyn. Tap-tap-tap. So light. "She probably has assu- thinks.. she's just going to get in trouble anyways." Another pause. And she continued again. Really, a series of rambles moreso than anything. But she had a listener. And by gods, that listener was going to listen!

She didn't seem that bothered by Vyn's proximity. Didn't really seem bothered at all to be scheming in general, short of the consequences. Perhap she really was meant to be born an Elum.

Their walk didn't take very long- and already: Dove is trying to feed Vyn. Jem stands not too far, expecting to deal with the nervous fumblings of an anxiety complex. Instead, Dove stumbles away from Vyn, grabs Jem's hands. "Jem- Jem. We- um, We are hungry." she exclaimed. "Do you know where there is some food?" she asked, politely, but with a bit of the sun that normally wasn't present so late at night.

She then staggered backwards. Fla-flap-flap!! Then she was upright again.
 
Their walk didn't take long. Whatever Dove lacked in movement, she made up in memory. Vyn stayed close, letting the smaller woman's wings to gently push her along. Every flap a second wind and a step extended. „Marcy gets blamed 'cause she runs faster than us.“ She thought it a good joke, but Dove was already onto something else - talking, and talking, and talking. And there was peace in that.

Jem seemed blindsided. Her voice full of sunshine and unfiltered need. His face took moments to adjust. But he knew how to perform. He could accept the interlocked fingers and the flapping wings. It took but three blinks for the message to fly between them.

Allow – Go – Time

A nod. A shrug. An alright in sign language if there ever was one.

„Vyn, get the stew. Onions too.“ He wasn't sure what was the right amount of force to hold the girl upright. She was doing her best impression of a dandelion, all white, fluffy, fragile and swaying. „Up where Marcy can't reach. Bread too. Should still be edible.“ She saluted like she'd seen them fancy Empire folks do. Jem never liked that.

Her step had a sway to it. Mud, she'd tell herself. She didn't feel truly drunk. Softened, perhaps. It took but a moment. When you spent your life juggling knives, bowls and pots and ladles came easy.

„Still alive!“ She yelled out too loud as she ladled a portion in each bowl. „Onions standing ready. Bread only a little tragic!“

Balanced everything in between her fingers. For a skilled performer, there was no such thing as too many props. She was quick to settle by Jem's fire. Setting the bowls down rather than handing them to Dove.

„If she starts flying, we're putting that in the songs.“

„Already got a verse.“ Jem echoed back.

„Dove. Food!“ and she'd pat the ground the spot next to her.
 
Dove didn't even realize that Vyn had started to prepare food. She was too busy pouting at Jem. After all- Vyn was hungry! She couldn't let her down! Dove only had like 3 skillsets. Looking cute and somewhat vulnerable and helpless was one of them! Hoping that the batting of her eyelashes would convince Jem to somewhat assist in her mission to get food, Dove gently swayed both hands from side to side. "Pleasee! Please? Vyn is hungry- I think she skipped dinner and I- I don't.. my nest- there's no fire in it."

Dove didn't even have a 'nest' in the wagon. She just casually found areas to rest and curled up like a content cat.

But, before long, she heard Vyn pat the ground- and her feathers raised, eyes raised, excited. "Oh! She found some. Thank you, Jem!" A passing hug was spared, before she stumbled to her spot on the ground, toppling a bit with a few panicked wing flaps.

Mission accomplished!

She swayed gently, humming- humming a song. Sometimes people caught her right away in the morning, if you were up early enough to watch her greet the sun. But- this was not that song. It was a lot more joyous. She didn't seem hungry though. She left her bowl untouched.

A happy smile, she leaned on Vyn's shoulder. She did the thing. She was a good bird. "Eat up. You can't hear stories if you're hungry."
 
Vyn didn't dig in right away. She watched Dove in satisfaction. The smaller woman still needed to eat.

„Ya know...“ Smile crooked. „If you don't eat, your story will come out weak.“ Poked the rim of the other bowl with her spoon. A tiny sound.

„Every tale needs strength. Guts. Like your guts. They only work when full.“ She flourished a spoonful around, impressively not spilling a drop. She played with it a bit longer, before finally reaching her mouth. The entire exercise reminded her of teaching the younglings to eat their greens.

„Mmmmh... legendary 'terial right 'er!“ Mouth still half full. Sound exaggerated. Delight practiced.

„Can't 'ave a good story if you vanish 'fore the end.“

If it came to throwing up, she hoped Dove would know to miss the fire.
 
(I am sorry Bak, we have a mission tonight)

Dove groaned, like a disobedient child. "But, I am not hungry!" Her lips pushed together, cheeks slightly puffed into a pout. "You, were the one who was hungry- see, I was smart, I ate earlier before you came to visit me. It is not my fault you didn't eat." she huffed, with a bit of an uppity twist of her head away from Vyn. "You- you're just trying to feed me because- I don't know why." she admitted through a stumbling defeat.

"But, it is qu.. Quite silly. You- you are quite silly." she pointed a finger, long, right into Vyn's face, threatening to poke her.

But she pushed the tip of the Deva's nose, with what looked like quite a bit of force. But- Dove of course, had little to no strength. So it just felt like a child trying to annoy their mother.

"No- Now you should finish. Or I will.. I'll forget my story.." she huffed. A concern more for herself, than for Vyn really. But that wasn't anything she had to worry about.
 
Vyn nearly went crosseyed as she followed the finger to her nose. Slow and dramatic. Her head tilted back slightly, more surprise than force. A quiet smile followed.

„You're a menace.“ Voice gentle, but patience wearing thin.

She wouldn't argue about the food. No one won drunk fights. She simply scooted the bowl close enough that it could be grabbed without thinking. Without a decision. Went back to her own meal. Slow and sobering.

„Story's still there in the mornin'.“ Words filling the time between mouthfuls. „But it'll be 'arder to 'member 'ungry.“ No more pressure.

Because Vyn didn't believe in making people eat.

She believed in making sure they had the choice.
 
True to her nature as a dove, she was, of course, being a little nuisance. Timid, tamed, and of course, very needy in the most subtle of ways. Poor Vyn. As she tried to eat, Dove seemed to take it upon herself to just continue wrapping herself around the poor Deva, not seemingly bothered by the activity. After all, she was warm, and toasty- and this was nice. This was a very nice feeling. The feathers seemed to ruffle in the way a content hen would insulate themselves. Her chest seemed to hum with a singsong tone, the 'snoring' that Marcy had accused Dove of.

"It would take one to know one." she snorted back into Vyn's shoulder, before she continued to get comfortable.

Hopefully, Jem was mindful not to get too close- otherwise he too would get pulled into these antics.

But, Dove was perceptive. Kind of. She could see how hard Vyn was trying to coax her to eat. It would probably make Vyn very happy if she did. If- she did.

So- she did the thing that the Elum love doing.

"What do.. I.. get out of it if I eat?"

Oh no. She's learning.
 
Mid bite. Stopped with a spoon halfway to her mouth, and turned with great seriousness. The kind that was reserved for fools and fire breathers. And Vyn was twice blessed.

„What do you get?“ Repeated. The spoon went down. Very slowly. A ritual. She leaned in slightly and whispered.

„You get...the secret.“ A glance left. A glance right. „To the stew.“ It was Jem's turn to snort his drink.

A small break and a serious look at the small woman. Then she'd set her own bowl down to raise up the unused one. Both hands beneath, she held it up above her head. Pulled it closer again, inspecting with great care. Fingers dancing clutching it like a prayer. „You see... this is not just food. This is Elum stew. Made with sweat and stories. With onions so finely diced that they once made a bard cry about an evil chicken.“ A single tap of the spoon on the outside. Like the sound meant something.

„Eat and you unlock the flavor of every meal that came before. One bite and you may remember something you didn't know you forgot.“ She narrowed her eyes like Dove was hiding something. Jem barely held it together at the edge of her vision.

„Two bites, and you'll find yourself telling me a secret. Or singing. Or both.“ Eyes wide at the horror of a secret being sung.

The smile that followed was all teeth and trouble.

„Gotta bite first though. Can't force magic on a bird. Bad luck, that.“
 
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