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fur and folly - Damien - 07-31-2025
The wind had quieted, but the cold still pressed in from every side like a waiting thing. Most of the Citadel’s stalls sat shuttered, boards nailed down or flaps drawn tight, their merchants having packed up for the season or taken to bartering indoors. Damien didn’t blame them. The open market was a miserable place this time of year.
He knelt beside one of the few open stalls, more of a bench than a shop really, methodically unpacking a bundle of hides. Arctic fox, snow hare, even a black pelt or two. Neatly cured, rough-stitched where needed. The kind of trade Halo still ran on, no matter what the rest of the world thought.
He didn’t call out. Didn’t need to. Anyone looking to buy would see the goods and speak first.
His breath curled pale against the air as he worked, fingers stiff in his gloves. Behind him, the Citadel’s stone walls loomed quiet and grey, casting long shadows across the market square. Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed and a gull cried once.
Then: footsteps.
He didn't turn, yet.
RE: fur and folly - Alys - 07-31-2025
Coming to Halo during Leafchange had been a decision, especially now that Alys was no longer protected by the cold resistance she'd once had from the Arcane Academy. She'd piled on layers and still shivered as she hurried through the market, peering at this stall and that, many of which were closed or closing due to the frigid weather. Sascha trailed her, sticking close but relatively happy, given that this was the little ursur's native environment. It was better in the Citadel than outside the walls on the open tundra - that reminded the bear too much of when she'd died, and her unease seeped into the bond like poison.
But for now, all was well, aside from the fact that Alys was freezing. The sooner she found something to make this Ludo costume out of, she thought, the better.
There - an open stall, adorned with various leathers and furs and hides. Alys approached, burrowing deeper into her coat and crossing her arms over her chest. For all that she'd lived in Halo for years before moving away to King's End, it didn't show now. [say]"Excuse me,"[/say] she said, her voice muffled by her scarf as she called out to the man who seemed to be in charge of this particular stall. [say]"What are the black pelts?"[/say]
RE: fur and folly - Damien - 08-01-2025
The voice cut through the quiet like a twig snapping under snow. Damien looked up, a slow, deliberate motion, one hand still braced on the bundle of furs at his feet.
She stood bundled nearly to the eyes, the scarf pulled so tight it turned her voice soft and muffled. Still, there was a sharpness to her; something behind the discomfort. Not quite out of place, but not at home, either. The cold had painted her cheeks raw, and her boots were too clean for someone who’d walked far on Halo’s ice.
The bear at her side was another story. Damien’s gaze settled on the creature a beat longer than strictly polite; an ursur, small, but full-blooded. He’d seen what they could do when they weren’t docile. The fact that this one followed her like a trained dog made her more interesting, not less.
He straightened. A gust of wind caught the edge of his coat, and he pulled the wool tighter across his shoulders. His own hood was fur-lined, dusted with frost; the shadows beneath it made his expression hard to read, but his eyes were sharp and pale as cut stone.
[say]“Fox,”[/say] he said, nodding once to the pelt she’d pointed at. [say]“Black Arctic. Harder to come by. Not much left this time of year.”[/say]
He didn’t offer a price. Not yet.
His gaze lingered on the way her fingers curled inward, trying to hold warmth in the fabric. [say]“You’re not dressed for long,”[/say] he observed, voice even—neither mocking nor kind. Just a fact.
Then, after a beat: [say]“You looking to buy or trade?"[/say]
RE: fur and folly - Alys - 08-01-2025
The man looked up, deliberate in his actions in a way that almost reminded Alys of Deimos. He had a certain shrewdness about him that made the seer immediately wary - not because she begrudged him the acumen, but because she wasn't that good a haggler, and she worried that she wouldn't get a good deal. He wasn't one of the merchants she knew from times long since past, and with that lack of familiarity came concern for the unknown.
At least she had her magic to rely on. She could feel him assessing her as he answered, a curiosity in him that made the seer think twice about her initial instinct to put her hackles up. A wind gusted past, and she shivered, pulling her coat more tightly around her. Then she laughed at his astute assessment, dark eyes sparkling over her scarf. [say]"Gods, I know. You'd think I'd know better after I lived here once upon a time, but I suppose time away has made me soft."[/say]
In any case, she considered his query for but a moment before she spoke. [say]"Buy. Unless you'd be interested in a tarot reading, in which case I'd be happy to strike a trade. I'm a seer. Alys Glasse,"[/say] she added by way of introduction. He might have heard of her - the Fateweaver - but one never could tell. Especially in Halo, where she'd found people in general to be skeptical of her skills. [say]"What price were you looking to get for it?"[/say]
RE: fur and folly - Damien - 08-06-2025
Damien watched her pull her coat tighter, the way the cold still managed to bite despite the layers. There was something in her stance—a quiet stubbornness—that made him think she wasn’t as softened by time away as she claimed. Halo didn’t let its people go easy. Not truly.
He tied off the black fox pelt with careful hands, then looked up at her with something warmer in his eyes, though still measured and cautious. A faint crease softened the hard line of his mouth, just enough to suggest he respected her honesty.
[say]“This place has a way of keeping you sharp. Doesn’t let anyone forget what the cold can do.”[/say] He said, voice low but steady.
He glanced briefly at the small ursur beside her, then back to her face partly hidden behind the scarf. Fateweaver lingered in his mind; a name he’d heard, tied to stories and whispers in Halo. But what or how much of it was true, he wondered.
[say]“I’d prefer the trade, actually,”[/say] he said, setting the pelt down gently. [say]“The fox is yours, and if you need more pelts I've got plenty of them. Most of them should take to dye pretty well, if you need it all to match. All in exchange for a reading. And maybe a few questions? I’ve never met a seer before.”[/say]
He nodded toward a squat stone building at the edge of the square, a thin plume of smoke curling from its chimney. [say]“There’s a bit of a workshop just there."[/say] The thick walls were dusted with frost, heavy timbers framing the door like a fortress against the cold.
A fogged-over window offered a glimpse inside. Amber light spilled out unevenly, catching glimpses of shadowed figures moving slowly through the small space. The low murmur of conversation drifted faintly through the air, promising warmth and shelter from the cold.
[say]“It’s no palace,”[/say] Damien pointed out, [say]“but it’ll keep the frost off, and you can find whatever tools you might need.”[/say] His tone was straightforward but carried a quiet curiosity, an invitation without pressure. His brows raised as he looked back at her. [say]“If that sounds alright to you.”[/say]
RE: fur and folly - Alys - 08-18-2025
If Alys was surprised by the man's agreement to a tarot reading in exchange for the pelt, it didn't show; instead, she offered a friendly smile. [say]"I would be happy to do a reading for you - and answer any questions you have."[/say] She'd traveled extensively as a seer, working with clients all across Caido, and Halo was by far the place where she'd had the least success, despite it having been where she'd started. She wasn't sure what it was about the tundra that made its people more skeptical, but she was excited now to have the opportunity to show someone new what she could do.
She accepted the pelt with a word of thanks, then glanced towards the workshop that the man had indicated. Its thick walls promised protection from the cold, despite the ever-present frost that glistened upon the heavy timbers of the door. Golden light spilled from a fogged window, illuminating a few figure that moved around inside. Alys could make out the low murmur of voices from within, and after a moment's consideration, she turned back to the woodsman and nodded. [say]"I think that will do quite nicely. If there's a table out of the way, I can perform your reading as well."[/say]
Alys gathered up her belongings - fox pelt now included - and whistled softly to Sascha, who had wandered towards a nearby snowdrift. The little ursur came galloping back to her side, accompanying her bonded into the workshop without even the faintest grumble of complaint. [say]"I didn't catch your name?"[/say] the seer said conversationally as she went through the door and into the warmth within. Enveloped by the sudden heat, her shoulders descended from their tense position around her ears, her posture relaxing for the first time since she'd gone out into the snow.
RE: fur and folly - Damien - 08-18-2025
The door swung heavily behind them, shutting out the worst of the wind. Inside, the workshop was warm in the way of places built to endure, heat radiating from a broad iron stove at the center. The air smelled faintly of smoke, pine shavings, and tanned hide. A handful of locals kept to their own corners: one man hunched over a length of wood, shaving curls from it with steady strokes of his blade, while a pair of women bent low over a workbench, stitching leather with quick, practiced motions. Their voices were low, indistinct, the background hum of people used to working through the long cold.
Damien steered them toward a table tucked against the wall, away from the main stove and the easy company of the others. The light there was dimmer, the surface scarred with years of use but solid beneath his hand. He pushed back his hood, rough hair dusted faintly with snow, and ran a gloved palm along the edge of the table as he claimed a seat. His eyes flicked to the little ursur padding in after Alys, then back to her with a faint crease of amusement at the corner of his mouth.
[say]“It’s Damien,”[/say] he said simply, the introduction coming as a matter of courtesy rather than ceremony, [say]"Damien Ulfsen."[/say] His voice carried enough to be heard but not enough to cut across the room.
He watched her unpack, his gaze settling briefly on the black fox pelts as he set the bundle before her, his eyes lifting again. [say]“What are you hoping to make with it? A better coat?”[/say] The words had a wry edge.
The table bore what they’d need: scraps of cloth and leather, a scattering of needles and spools of thread, awls, clamps, and shears. Against the wall, a thick bar bristled with tools of every stripe, waiting for the next project. Damien sat back in his chair, leaving her space, his hands loose on his knees.
After a beat, curiosity won out over reserve. [say]“You called yourself a seer,”[/say] he said, tilting his head slightly. [say]“What does that mean, exactly? What do you.. see?”[/say] His tone was steady, without challenge, but his eyes didn’t waver from her face. A few of the others in the workshop shifted, their glances sharp but fleeting, pricked by the word more than the question. Damien didn’t so much as twitch under the weight of it. He kept his attention fixed squarely on her, content to let the background murmur carry on around them.
RE: fur and folly - Alys - 08-19-2025
The room was warm, and clearly well-used. Several others had made the space their own, and as the man - Damien - led the way to a worktable, Alys and Sascha followed meekly behind. The seer slid into a chair, her companion slipping beneath the table to lay at her feet. Alys looked around, admiring the small workshop. She'd always loved places like this, hidden away like stolen gems, only visible to those who knew where to look.
[say]"I'm working on a costume for Ludo's masquerade,"[/say] she said, unpacking various supplies onto the table littered with tools. [say]"I think the fox fur will be a nice mantle."[/say] A black garment was produced, Alys holding the pelt up to it with a satisfied hum. [say]"Yes, I think this will do nicely. It'll be warm, at least,"[/say] she added with a self-deprecating laugh, dark eyes flicking up to meet Damien's with amusement.
She got to work as they talked, her hands moving deftly to create the garment that she imagined from fabric and fur. [say]"I see people,"[/say] she said simply, because that was the simplest explanation. [say]"As they are, at their core. And I help them to see that, too, because you'd be surprised how frequently people fail to see themselves clearly."[/say] She shrugged. [say]"Most of the time, I see the present. Some seers claim to predict the future, but I can only do that on occasion. Sometimes I see visions of the future in my dreams. Most of the time, though, I read the way things are, so that people can decide how to move forward and create their own futures."[/say]
Alys paused. [say]"It can be difficult to explain,"[/say] she admitted. [say]"But hopefully, after your reading, you'll see what I mean."[/say]
RE: fur and folly - Damien - 08-20-2025
Damien leaned back slightly as she worked, the scrape of her thread through fur and fabric steady against the low murmur of the workshop. He’d heard of Ludo’s masquerade, of course—everyone had, by now—but he wouldn't go. Not his sort of thing, he’d told himself. The press of strangers, the games of masks and meaning. Still, as she spoke, he felt the echo of that choice tugging at him. Masquerades were anonymity, after all. To be no one, and perhaps in that, to be anyone. He wasn’t sure if what gnawed at him was regret or curiosity. Maybe both. Maybe something else, something he couldn’t name.
His attention drifted back to her hands as she matched the fox fur to the black garment, her ease with the task plain in the way she moved. When she looked up at him with that flicker of humor, he found the corner of his mouth curving in answer, unthinking.
But her explanation of her gift pulled him quieter, thoughtful in a way that sat deep in his chest. A conduit, he thought. Not pulling threads of fate but holding them up to the light for others to see. When she said that people so often failed to see themselves clearly, something in him caught. He hummed low, rough in his throat but thoughtful all the same.
[say]“I think for some of those people, it’s not that they can’t,”[/say] he said after a pause, voice steady but softer than before. [say]“They can. They just don’t want to. Easier to deny it than face what stares back.”[/say] His gaze slipped past her for a moment, into the dark grain of the scarred tabletop, then back again. There was truth in it he didn’t voice, old habits of silence tamping down the rest. The nights where he felt alone as the moon, the mornings where the sun rose and he barely felt its warmth—those were his burdens to hold, not something to lay bare before a near stranger. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the thought of her words, how being confronted with oneself could be as frightening as it was clarifying.
He tilted his head, curiosity rising through the restraint. [say]“Have you met Ludo before? Or any of the heralds?”[/say] The question came even, but behind it lingered the faint pull of that earlier longing, the quiet wondering of what it might be to stand face to face with a god who wore many masks.
RE: fur and folly - Alys - 08-22-2025
The task Alys had set before herself was not a difficult one; though her hands were busy, her mind was free to wander - or, as it happened, to focus on the conversation at hand. The fur yielded beneath her hands, attaching here and there to the garment she'd brought along. A nearby fire reflected brightly in her dark eyes as she glanced up, Damien's thoughtful reply earning a look of interest. [say]"Perhaps,"[/say] she agreed. What she didn't say was that willful ignorance was still ignorance, no matter how dressed up it was. Not that she blamed people. On the contrary, Alys knew what it was to look one's innermost truths in the eye, and how difficult it was not to shy away.
She wondered, briefly, as her gaze flicked back to her work and her hands resumed their slow, methodical sewing, if Damien wasn't speaking from experience. There was a wistfulness to him that she couldn't quite place, even with her magic revealing his innermost emotions. Perhaps if she dug a little deeper, something clarifying might reveal itself, but she'd never been one to pry - which made her magic all the more ironic. So she let the moment pass, focusing instead on the burgeoning curiosity.
[say]"I have met Ludo once,"[/say] she said. [say]"It gave me a quest recently."[/say] Then she smiled. She'd been trying to pray to nature Frey, but Ludo must have taken pity on her instead. It had been a strange experience indeed, to pray to one herald only to have another taken its place, masquerading as the first. Despite what the seer had heard of Ludo, she couldn't help but like the strange herald. [say]"I've also met Frey. I'm sworn to Mort, though; he returned Sascha to my side after she died fighting the Void."[/say]
RE: fur and folly - Damien - 08-25-2025
Damien’s hands rubbed together once, more for something to do than to warm them. Her mention of a quest made his brow tighten briefly, though he didn’t press for details. Quests from the gods weren’t given lightly—or so he’d always been told—and it wasn’t his place to pry. Still, the way she said it, matter-of-fact and calm, struck him as someone accustomed to carrying strange burdens.
His gaze dropped briefly to the little ursur at her feet, then back to her. [say]“And Frey. That’s…”[/say] He exhaled slowly, the corner of his mouth pulling wry. [say]“That’s more than I’ve managed in all my years.”[/say] It wasn’t bitter, but there was a note of wonder threaded through. Encounters with gods weren’t exactly handed out.
Her next words brought his head up a little, the mention of Mort anchoring his attention more firmly on her. Returned Sascha to her side—that kind of mercy was no small thing. He studied the bear for a long beat, quiet but intent. The truth of it was hard to deny when the proof lay curled at her boots.
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower now, meant for her more than for the others scattered about the room. [say]“What was it like? Meeting them. Frey, especially.”[/say] His head tilted, eyes narrowing faintly with curiosity. [say]“I’d like to know what it was really like to stand before them. What you saw in them.”[/say]
Though his words were plain, his emotions were layered in a way he didn’t fully admit to himself: a guarded longing, the kind that came from wanting to believe but fearing what belief might cost. There was no envy in it, not really, but a weight of restless hunger, the awareness of his own distance from something greater. He held her gaze, steady and unblinking, as though willing her answer to reveal something more than just the tale.
RE: fur and folly - Alys - 08-25-2025
Alys offered a small smile at Damien's wonder and awe, fully understanding the feelings as those she herself had once encountered. If the man's emotions were anything to go by, her tale had elicited a sense of curiosity and longing, and that, too, she was familiar with. Once upon a time, she had been just like him - not yet touched by the gods, and so lacking in the belief that others around her seemed to take so for granted. It had taken her years to change her mindset and take a chance on praying, and while her prayers weren't always answered, when they were... well. Sascha was proof enough that one answered prayer could change everything.
When she answered Damien's query, it was in a soft voice meant for his ears alone. [say]"When I was growing up, I couldn't stand the thought of the gods,"[/say] she told him. [say]"I'm Abandoned, and I was always taught that they didn't like us. That they wouldn't help us the way they would an Accepted or Attuned. So I thought, if they wouldn't help me, then I would help myself, gods be damned."[/say] She chuckled softly, reaching a hand down to stroke the top of Sascha's head absently, as though she didn't really realize she was doing it.
[say]"It took me years to figure out that I had been taught wrong. All it takes is one answered prayer, and your whole life can change. Frey was the first herald to give me a quest. They weren't at all what I expected. They were... real, in a way that I'm not sure how to describe. I'd thought that the gods would be... cold. Distant, perhaps. Regal, and pretentious, and disdainful towards me. But meeting Frey was like meeting anyone else. They offered me advice, gave me a quest, and when I'd completed it, they rewarded me. And I never felt as though they hated me simply for being Abandoned, or as if I was a nuisance for daring to ask a favor, or anything like that. It was... nice."[/say]
RE: fur and folly - Damien - 08-26-2025
Damien listened close, the edge of his jaw working as if he were chewing on her words. Alys’ soft confession hit something in him, not sharp enough to wound but deep enough to find purchase. He didn’t look away when she spoke of being Abandoned, of growing up with the weight of scorn pressed into her bones. Instead, his gaze stayed on her, steady as an ax sunk into a log. And though his expression hardly shifted, his emotions did—faint threads of recognition, a raw little thrum of agreement. Not with her conclusion, but with that old hunger to spit in the gods’ faces and take life on your own terms.
When she described Frey, his brows drew together. Real. Not cold, not lofty, not dripping with the smug disdain of a thing set above mortals. Real. He felt his shoulders loosen by a fraction, and there was a flicker of something softer in him: not quite belief, not quite comfort, but a hard-won willingness to imagine it might be so. That maybe they weren’t all stone-faced judges looking down on the lot of them.
[say]“That’s not what I expected to hear,”[/say] he admitted finally, voice low and rough. [say]“I’ve always pictured them like kings in their halls—gold dripping from their hands, too high up to see much of anything below.”[/say] His mouth pressed thin, but a breath of rueful laughter escaped him. [say]“You make it sound like they walk closer to the ground than I thought.”[/say]
His eyes drifted down to the black fox fur in her hands, to the garment slowly taking shape beneath her deft fingers. A strange little pang hit him—pride, maybe, though he’d done nothing more than trade her the pelts. Pride all the same, at seeing the rough skin of an animal he’d tracked and killed turned into something new, something more. [say]“That’ll be a fine mantle,”[/say] he said quietly, almost to himself. His eyes lifted again, a slant of humor curling one corner of his mouth. [say]“You need an extra set of hands with it? I don’t sew worth a damn, but I can hold things steady.”[/say]
The offer was casual, unassuming, but the undercurrent of his emotions told a fuller story: a flicker of wanting to be useful, to linger in the company a little longer, and—beneath that—a quieter, lonelier note, the kind that asks for connection without ever saying so aloud.
RE: fur and folly - Alys - 08-27-2025
It was always fascinating, feeling the emotions of others - particularly when they seemed to find some similarity between themselves and the seer. As she spoke, she kept her face neutral, but she felt everything as Damien did: that faint thread of recognition, that glimmer of defiance in the face of the gods, that desire to take for oneself rather than relying on deities to bestow one's fortune. It made her esteem of the man rise, intrigued by his determination to take care of himself.
[say]"I can't speak for all of them,"[/say] Alys admitted after Damien spoke. [say]"But Frey was almost... human-feeling. Mort was the kindest of those I've met; he genuinely cares for people, especially, it seems, when someone has loved and lost. And Ludo is a trickster,"[/say] she added with a smile. [say]"It showed up dressed as Frey. I'm not sure how Frey feels about Ludo masquerading as them, but hey, that's between them."[/say]
Whatever Damien's reasons for asking, Alys hoped that her story had helped him in some way. In the meantime, though, his attention shifted back to the fox fur, and the seer glanced down as well. [say]"Sure,"[/say] she said, accepting the offered help by handing over the garment. [say]"Could you hold here and here?"[/say] Gesturing to the places she meant, she picked up her tools, ready to go to work, dutifully ignoring the wistfulness that lay beneath the offer of assistance.
[say]"When would you like your reading?"[/say] she asked as she worked. [say]"I can do it today, if you'd like; I always have a deck with me to work with. Or we can wait, if you'd prefer more privacy."[/say]