Highland Fling (A Dream)~Samheen 30th GT~open!

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Mairi Armstrong
Envoy
Posts: 106
Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2006 6:46 pm
Location: London/Oxford/Citadel

Highland Fling (A Dream)~Samheen 30th GT~open!

Post by Mairi Armstrong »

Mairi was home.

The bonfire flickered in the darkness, the sharp smoke stinging her nostrils and the scent of peat filling the air. Shadows whirled past, momentarily blocking the orange light.

Shouts - cries of joy and the ululating song of the women provided a backdrop for the dance, although it was unlike any song Mairi had heard before. This was a song drawn from some other part of her subconscious, perhaps.

She became aware of many other people, gathered around this fire in groups and pairs, sipping a mug of hot toddy or clapping along. Were they her Clan? She couldn't quite make them out.

She knew without looking how she was dressed. Her hair was braided into many plaits, the light of the bonfire illuminating the auburn ropes. Her torque was around her neck, and several more adorned her arms. Her dress was green, worn loose in the typical style, and with a low brown belt slung around her hips.

She began to move amongst the people, searching for something - if only she knew what.
Last edited by Mairi Armstrong on Tue Jan 23, 2007 9:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
~The shadowy mountains and the echoing sea~
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Jadmai
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Posts: 1439
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Location: Oasis

Post by Jadmai »

(OOC: You said open, so here I am! Hope you don't mind a little dark one running around, he'll be good--and it's good to see you again Perdita)

Jadmai opened his eyes, and suddenly his vision was filled with dancing bodies. Jadmai smiled.

Wow, when was the last time I did that?

He hadn't seen people dancing in such pure joy since he had left Gulanadur seemingly yahren ago. One of the dancers shoved a hot mug into his hands, well, mostly in his hands. The mug ended shoved against his chest, the warm liquid splashing on him.

He looked down at his fancy grey tunic and sighed, "My only good tunic."

However, as quickly as the toddy had soaked, Jadmai was soaking in the scene around him again...and that's when he saw it, blazing away. He had lived in deserts for so long, he had never seen anyone in the need of one (well, living with a royal will keep you warm) especially one so large. He moved forward, his lithe form quickly moving through the gaps in the dancers not to disturb them, until he reached the hearth. It was the fire.

"We can't have these in Gulanadur...and there is no need in the desert." He said to himself with the surprised tone of awe of someone who thought they had seen it all.

He tried to watch the flames dance, reaching out higher at some points, dying down in others, but he quickly adverted his eyes. He was told he would get used to light, and in way it's gotten better, but he still couldn't look at the blaze directly. So, he lowered his chin, and raised the hood of his cloak, and only let parts of the fire jump out at him; that much he could take.

Jadmai was happy with his mug of...whatever, even though he had yet to sip it, and he was exhilirated with the music and dancing, though it was not music he was used to, and of course the fire, he loved the fire. But, as he watched of what he could of the fire he noticed a human woman, with hair like the night. Though Jadmai's vision was lacking he could tell that she was pretty. The dark adhiel loved the myriad of colors that graced human's hair, and black was his favorite, being the opposite of what he had seen for more yahren than he would like to remember.

As she drew closer Jadmai could tell by body language, and her face (human faces were easier to read than their words) that she in search of something or someone. As she past close to him, he gave her a more obvious sidelong glance.

"Seems you are missing something, mistress? Lost something?" He said he eyes just glancing at her face. "Seems to be an odd time to be in search of something. There is warm drink, music and dance. I would be dancing too, if it was something more from home. A waltz, dissonant and mournful, but in a major key...that would be beautiful, that would be home. But, right now, I will settle for the beauty of this fire."

"You, you however are searching more. What is it you are looking for? Perhaps I can help."

And for the first time Jadmai swung his head in the raven-haired woman's direction, his long bangs hanging out from the top of his cloak, framing his angular face softly, and dangling slightly in front of one eye. He turned to face her, and his black leather britches underneath his long cloak creaked, and he wore a slightly stained fancy grey tunic. A gift he treasured from Ionis, the King of Amun Rah.
Last edited by Jadmai on Fri Feb 02, 2007 2:02 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"...war is the last flower on the evil tree."-- Betrand Russel
Maeve
The Dragon & Game Designer
Posts: 15536
Joined: Thu Oct 03, 2002 1:29 pm
Location: The Netherlands

Post by Maeve »

There was something strange in the air, something almost hypnotic. Perhaps there were herbs in the peat, for it made everybody feel lightheaded. This was a celebration, although nobody knew what it was a celebration for. Victory. But whose victory?

The close that these people wore, the tartans, the skirts on the men and women alike although the women ironically wore longer ones, it spoke of an exotic country that Jadmai had not visited before, even though for Mari it was home, a feast like so many others she had attended.
[i][b][color=orange][size=92]Smile and carry a big stick.[/color][/b][/i][/size]
Tilha O`Renimin
Civus
Posts: 191
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Location: Somewhere on hiatus

Post by Tilha O`Renimin »

OOC: someone’s dreaming of my father’s land here! Hope you don’t mind if I step in, then.
I’m afraid I’ll be assuming quite a lot about the setting while describing my entrance. If this contradicts what you had in mind, PM me and I’ll edit out the offending parts.
IC:


Green rolling hills fading to black in the last eveningtide light.
Grey rolling mists slithering sometime around them, sometime capping them.
And the rumble of the sea on distant rocks, hidden behind them.

Tilha was in Islay, and it made her feel happy.
She gladly listened to the slush of her wood shoes in the wet ground while progressing on the small path surrounded with the peat scent.
People were celebrating ahead and she was to join them.

It was her place.
It was the place where her father was born and spent its youth. The place he talked about when asked stories and fairytales. Somewhere down south, hidden in the hills, was her grand-parents’ sheep-fold.

How did she know that, what the celebration was, and how did she get Islay in the first place, she did not know. Actually, she did not even know how she could tell it was Islay, she must have been one year old the only time she went there, and she had no memories of it.
But she did not even thought about the questions; she did not even realize there were questions. It felt just so normal to be there, that these thought did not even reach her conscious mind.

Tilha was oblivious to the slit eyes, small nose, and straight black hair she got from her mother, clearly marking her as half-breed. Actually, even her name, also chosen by her mother, would not sound very Islay-ish.
But that not even tried to reach her mind.

And so she walked in the night, enjoying the cool drizzle on her hands and face. She was wearing a simple but perfectly tailored dress, just a bit loose as befitted but still tight enough for her slender body. Even that simple thing was a pleasure, allowing her to relax after those days on the ship in the strict boy attire.
The slim girl pushed away the hood of her brand new woollen cloak, still smelling the grease. She relinquished to the feeling of the drizzle wetting her head and her untied long hair, likening it to swimming in the mist.

The drizzle had stopped as she climbed the hill, and Tilha stepped out of a last patch of fog in view of the bonfire and dancing people under the stars.
With a renewed smile she walked to the dancers, and slid between them with her own little dance while untying her cloak. In calm but quick gestures, trained by years of helping in her parents’ tavern, she located an empty mug, a skin, and helped herself a pint.

Still smiling, she then progressed to the fire to warm her wet hair. Standing there, she noticed a lady nearby who was surely of some rank by the look of her clothes. The young girl was preparing a good-natured but still respectful salute, when a man turned her way to talk to the lady.

He already looked strange from behind, hiding under his hood amongst the feasting people in kilts and skirts. But now the fire glow revealed the sharp features of an Adhiel, with his hair in strangely grey bangs. And was his skin so dark or was it the shadow from his hood? And his eyes…

Silenced for now, Tilha cast him a long surprised look.
Last edited by Tilha O`Renimin on Tue Feb 06, 2007 5:50 am, edited 1 time in total.
[size=84][i]"Be guided by your heart and your faith."[/i] - Abbot O'Shea 8th teaching[/size]
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