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The Nightmare Court may be a pack of fear-loving weirdos, but they have a really pretty aesthetic. I’ve wanted Toloma to look like a pretty petal princess for so long, and now she does.
Finally I forced out some words. Gods. So here’s another part of the occasional piece about my Sylvari on one particular night. It’s just a character study really, but it’s nice to try to contrast them all.
Previously:
Buds 1 & 2
Capernoited
Burdens of Command
It was a small green bower made of soft ferns and wood some distance from the terrace, its foliage gently curving in an embrace of anyone in the chamber. Around them lay piles of neatly stacked books and scrolls making a path between the doorway and the hammock couch the pale Pyrif was gingerly lowering the injured elementalist on to, floor space in the tiny room at such a premium there was nowhere a shelf might be squeezed in.
Toloma let out her breath in a deep sigh as the weight finally came off her feet, and she closed her eyes in relief.
“Thank you, Py. Oh, that’s so much better!”
Pyrif hovered anxiously, catching her raised foot to help lower it to a nearby book stack.
“Do you need anything? A bandage, or should I go get one of the Menders?”
“No no.” She waved an easy hand. “It’ll be fine now that I’ve got off it. But you could get me a cup of water, if you wouldn’t mind?”
In an even smaller alcove trickled a small pool, and Pyrif hastened to do as he was bidden.
“Oh, but that was a good night,” Toloma was chirping as he returned, taking the proffered cup with a smile. “You should dance more often. It suits you.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle; the woman exuded energy, even when lolling on a couch and sipping water from a wooden cup.
“I think people prefer me to play instead of standing on their feet,” he rejoined with a shy smile.
“I was the one who asked you to dance, as well as the one injured; let me be the judge of that!’ Now she waved him toward a small tuffet almost obscured by the books surrounding it. “But please sit down - you’re making me feel like a sprout!”
“Well…” The tone was dubious, but he did lower himself, though not quite to fully sitting. “...I was thinking that I should stay up, in case you wanted anything else, or reconsidered the Mender.”
“This room isn’t made for standing in very long, though the lighting is excellent, if I do say so myself.” She glanced up at the glowing filaments sparkling along the leaves. “And I’d prefer my guest to be comfortable while tending to my every wish.”
“Alright.”
“And now my wish is this - I’d like to have a bit of a talk with you, if you don’t mind.” Flexing her toes, she stretched out her leg. “Oh, that’s much better.” The last was said mostly to herself in some relief.
“Well, alright. What do you want to talk about?”
“I couldn’t help but notice you were avoiding looking at someone tonight.”
Immediately Pyrif began to glow white beneath his bark. Oh no.
“Well, I…”
“Don’t worry.” Gently she reached out to pat the closest part of him - his knee, as it turned out. “But why won’t you talk to her, if you have feelings for her? Seeing you with her explained a lot.”
His hands were very interesting all of a sudden, and he regarded them closely rather than look up.
“Ranuncla’s one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.” The words came out in a gust of breath. “But she’s not interested in me, and I thought it better to just not be around her, because she deserves better than having her choices invalidated by me.” The sigh was almost musical in its minor tone. “It’ll pass - my feelings, I mean. She’s still a good friend.”
Toloma regarded him for a moment, a soft smile shadowed by her mushroom capped head. Then slowly, deliberately, she shifted forward and wrapped the surprised tree in an embrace.
“You’re a good man, Pyrif. You’ll find someone who loves you back, I’m sure of it. And in the meantime, you have us. Don’t be too sad.”
The hug was warm and as her leaves rustled against his human style coat, Pyrif found his heart lifting, just a little.
“I’ll try not to be. I promise.”
“Why don’t you go try to get some sleep?” She smiled as she released him. “I can find some room if you want to stay here.”
Pyrif tried his best not to look doubtfully around the already crowded room. “No, I should probably go, as long as you’ll be ok.”
“I’ll be fine.” She waved dismissively. “You just go now and we’ll both get some rest.”
“Alright. Thank you, Toloma - it’s good to actually say it and get it out of my head a while.” He nodded, then slowly walked backwards out into the night. “Good night.”
“Good night!” She waved, watching his progress through the darkness until his white glow disappeared into the trees. When he was gone she softly dabbled her fingers in the water he’d fetched for her.
“Silly sapling,” she said to his absence, the water cool on her bark as she splashed it over her injured extremity. Her fingers danced in the air as it trickled over her skin, turning into a gently rising mist which tickled as it washed the pain away. An experimental flexure of her foot was successful, and she relaxed back into her seat, allowing it to fully support her once more. “He needs to Dream more, and dream less.”
With that she reached for one of the many books around and, swinging idly in the hammock, she smiled as she began to read in the soft bower light.
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It’s really hard to get a decent pic of it, but after getting Prahris’ ascended weapon I decided that I was bored enough to try to finish off Toloma’s The North Wind - the Tempest’s ascended warhorn.
I think I’ve decided on which Elementalist will become what Specialisation. Toloma has been associated with Air since the beginning, and the use of Air via a warhorn makes some sense. Also, the word Tempest = storms/air, am I right? And Enla Kaivas has made it quite clear that she’s about Fire, and as she’s supposed to be my “Elona Envoy”, she will make a fantastic Weaver. She learned the art of it in her homeland. I tried it out briefly in the demo server today, and it just suits her.
After finally finishing the Flashpoint Living Story episode last night, I noticed that the glittering wings backpack skin was on sale. I had to have it, because look! It looks so good on Toloma!
The exchange rate for those gems was terrible, but it was worth it, because look!
And another bit of this character study. It’s amazing how many people can orbit one another in just one night.
Previously:
Buds 1 & 2
Capernoited
Burdens of Command
No warnings unless references to a couple of cuddly guys bothers you.
There were fewer dancing now, the music becoming less cheerful and more introspective as the night drew on and the musicians found their audiences lagging. One creative sprout had decided the night absolutely needed to hear her new composition involving Asuran atonal chording and the industrial rhythms of the Charr foundries, and it was almost as much this that Pyrif was wincing at as the scene before him as he knelt before Toloma, her bare foot in her massaging hands.
“I’m so sorry about your foot.”
In return she smiled, and managed a laugh despite the drawn look of pain on her face.
“It’s not your fault! It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. So many seem to prefer those heavy leather boots to feeling the air on their skin…” A look was directed at the heavy Norn style boots Pyrif himself was wearing, but it didn’t linger long enough to prompt anything more than the faintest of embarrassed glows from the flautist. “Vespertine just wasn’t watching where he was going.”
Near them a spike-headed Sylvari shrugged apologetically, his ornate clothes a distinctly Human style in silks and wool, as he whirled on by.
“That’s pretty standard.” The tenor voice was soft but musical, humming with some faint amusement as a grey barked hand reached out towards them, beckoning the pair over to its comfortable corner. “Come and sit over with us - you’ll be out of the way of his clumsy feet here.”
It was the pair of male Sylvari they had noted before, still snuggled in against one another, but now they had been joined by a woman wearing a thick lens apparatus who chatted with bright animation to the blue barked one of the pair.
Again the grey man beckoned, shifting closer to his partner to make room for them on their tuffet, and smiled in welcome as the Pyrif helped the limping Toloma to the right spot.
“Ugh,” The grey man lowered a knee and reached to prop the injured extremity upon it, tracing a gentle hand over the rapidly bruising skin. “Pepp, remind me to steal Vespertine’s boots at the next meeting, please?” he commented over his shoulder to his lover.
“Sure, Nutmeg.” came the reply, but there was a moment of silence as the blue tree rubbed his forehead, shaking his head in what may have been mirth or in exasperation before he returned his attention to the yellow woman.
It was always amazing to note, Pyrif reflected, just how in tune with one another the pair were. Nikyri - “Pepper” as his lifemate called him - had been deep in conversation with the woman Pyrif was trying very hard not to look at, but he was always aware of Gerain, and the opposite was always true. It must have been nice to share a Dream, he thought, that touch of sadness heavy in his chest once again as he took a careful seat next to the mushroom capped Toloma.
“Do you always go barefoot?” Gerain was asking now, lightly massaging the sore appendage as Toloma wriggled her pale blue toes at him.
“Do you always wear boots?” she countered.
“Yes - Pepper doesn’t like me hiding my throwing knives in my underleaves.” He laughed as he was jostled from behind by a loving elbow. “But seriously, I wear them when I’m out, but stay barefoot at home.”
Pyrif would have sworn he heard a soft, “And bare everything else,” but as neither Gerain nor his Pepp seemed to react, Pyrif didn’t either.
“Well, you’re not using elemental magic, and it works better for me to not be all tangled up. And I like the feel of dirt and air on my skin.” She winced as she flexed her toes a little too far. “Well, usually.” Retrieving her foot from the unresisting Gerain’s grasp and curling it into her lap, she began massaging the vines beneath the bruised flesh. “How’s Ranuncla?” Toloma nodded at the yellow flower chatting with Nikyri even as she looked towards the ceiling, distracting herself from the discomfort playing across her features.
“She’s fine.” Gerain chuckled. “I can only understand about half of what they’re talking about, though, so I’m glad you two came along.”
“You’re not that slow!” Another soft jostle came from behind, but this time Gerain replied with a gentle elbow of his own.
“You know Ranuncla, don’t you, Pyrif?” Toloma said, her voice lifting over the top of the imminent wrestling match, only properly looking at the birch when he began to glow.
“Oh, yes. Hello, Ranuncla!” The tone was just a shade too bright; he knew it even as the words were spilling from his mouth, but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t help it; she was one of the most interesting people he’d ever met, and the last time they had met in the Garden of Dusk things had not been optimal…
She gave no sign of having remembered, however; her own little wave and cheery smile as she turned those lens magnified eyes on him for a moment was just as friendly as ever.
“Hi, Py!”
Toloma looked quickly between the two, Ranuncla turning back to her conversation about flame throwers (why did you need those when there were elementalists who could do it without wasting the fuel?) or whatever it was the two engineers had been talking about and fixed her gaze on Pyrif, who was seemingly attempting to hide beneath his own long head branches.
“Pyrif,” she said, coming to a quick decision borne of instinct and her knowledge of fire. “I think it's time for me to call it an evening, and I’m not sure I’ll get to my bower without help.”
“Of course.” It was good to have something else to focus on, that much was evident in the speed with which he was on his feet and holding out his arms to her.
“I can help as well.” Gerain supported the woman from his sitting position as she got to her feet, but she waved him back down even as she bounced experimentally on the injured foot.
“No, Pyrif should be enough, thanks. You stay here and play with your beloved.” She smiled. “Have a good night, you three.”
“Good night.” Pyrif murmured as he wrapped his arm about Toloma’s waist, bowing so she might wrap her own about his shoulders, and slowly, carefully, they made their ways out into the night.
“They left fast,” Nikyri observed, leaving off his playful shoving to look in the direction the pair had gone. “Was everything alright?”
“Her foot was sore, that much was certain.” Gerain mused. “Pyrif wasn’t his usual self, though. I wonder…?”
“You think he might…?” The two men regarded each other, red eyes glimmering as they communicated beyond words, each knowing the other was thinking exactly the same - that Toloma and Pyrif might just be interested in one another. Together they grinned.
