expiationlogs | {Mini Event} Day of Devotion

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{Mini Event} Day of Devotion

DAY OF DEVOTION

This is an entirely opt-in very casual event that has nothing to do with overarching storyline and is just an additional introductory log, and a means for characters to meet. We hope you've all had a very happy Valentine's Day week however you've chosen to spend it!

SCARVES OF LOVE

The season of affection and love of all kinds falls upon Aldrip in the wake of their festivities for Those Who Were There. As part of the celebration, what's referred to as the 'Day of Devotion,' local merchants carry a variety of wares, but none so coveted as their multicoloured scarves available in a variety of prints, designs, and fabrics. Perhaps consider picking one up and giving it to someone who's important to you. No money? No problem! Whilst Aldrip doesn't exactly work on a layaway system or akin to, you'll find the mercantile business owners are quite open to trades and other means of bartering. Maybe they'll give out a scarf or two in agreement for running some errands...

Lucky recipients of these very fashionable scarves will find themselves suspiciously open to sharing positive, warm and fuzzy, or perhaps downright amorous feelings toward the person who gifted them the scarf to begin with, regardless of whether you've known them for years or even just a couple of weeks. But don't worry—the feelings are temporary! Once the Day of Devotion comes to a natural conclusion, your feelings will return to something like normalcy and you'll still wind up with a new fashion accessory. Of course, if you've always been amorous with that special someone, you likely won't notice any sort of change.

Take the opportunity to embrace the celebration, maybe embrace one another a little bit, too, and begin forming some potentially everlasting bonds with others.

BRING PROTECTION

Not everyone is choosing to celebrate the Day of Devotion in the same way. Due to the heightened popularity of the pretty scarves, some of Aldrip's jewellers have been bitten by the green bug of jealousy. In an attempt to compete with the sales of scarves, jewellers are advertising pendants, brooches, and other assorted charms that are meant to serve as warding and protective trinkets. What are they protecting one from? It's difficult to say and the merchants aren't inclined to give a straight answer. But whether you need protection from love, personal feelings, or perhaps something more physical, they've got you covered!

If you choose to give these amulets to others, recipients of them and their related will be compelled to share their true feelings with those around them in addition to the person who gave them the protective charms. This sounds like it could be a good thing, however, that means it covers the array of positive, negative, and every shade in between, without a filter in place. Consider these accessories a potential test of friendships, familial relationships, and more.

Like the scarves, this need and desire to be truthful with your feelings will be temporary, lasting until the Day of Devotion celebration is over. But at least you'll be protected. From something. Maybe. Probably. Or not!

FLOWERS FOR ALDRIP

By now, you may be well familiar with Aldrip's variety of fields that are filled with vegetables and fruits that grace the dinner tables of the town and local cuisine. During the Day of Devotion and weeks leading up to it, you'll find that they're clearing another field and preparing the soil. What for, you won't find out until the actual day of the celebration. Once it arrives, there's a collection of simple carts filled with flowering plants. Locals and newly-arrived alike are welcome to lend a hand in planting them along the neatly tilled rows.

You may find plants that resemble or are identical to plants from your home world. You may find plants that you've never seen in your life. They come in a variety of colours and are accompanied by a lightly pleasing scent that shouldn't be too overpowering, though may still disturb those with allergies.

All who help out with the planting, watering, and other tending, will be rewarded with a bouquet of flowers that can be passed onto others to show your appreciation and other forms of affection. You may even find yourself making a good and lasting impression on the locals by offering some assistance.

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[She could, understandably, simply cut him off at the pass and not let him sit with her. However, she doesn't want to cause a scene either. If one of the others should see them, they may not realise the gravity of the situation and Kisara doesn't feel like explaining it to them, let alone someone entirely outside of the situation.

In the end, she lets him join her without fuss.]

Only one Kisara, huh? I don't know. I might like to meet another me sometime.

[A different her. Maybe to see how that version might have handled things. Who knew, maybe a different her could even be a touch more ladylike.

She isn't sure how many of his words she ought to take to heart. Appreciation is not unfounded, however. Maybe she hasn't been as acknowledged as much as she ought to be, but she isn't sure that's ever really been kept in mind much. Somehow, it's seemed like such a small thing in the broad spectrum that is her life.

Instead of arguing or protesting, she simply offers him a nod. Even if she doesn't know how to take it, she can be diplomatic enough to accept it. He may, after all, genuinely mean it without guilt tainting his actions fully.

When she unwraps what he's brought to her, her brow knits. It's beautiful. Soft. Colourful. Not too much. It looks very delicate, very unlike her. With some hesitance and not before eyeing her glove to make sure she doesn't damage it, Kisara reaches out to touch the scarf gently. Enough to splay gloved fingertips.

...She suspects there has been a shortage of gifts in her life. Not that she's ever felt that she needed them.]

This is gorgeous. I don't know that someone like me should have something like this. I wouldn't want it to get dirty.

[And she so often is getting herself involved in this, that, or the other thing.]

I don't even know how to wear it, but I guess we had some similar things back home.

If there is one thing I have learned while traveling in everyone's company, it's that things getting dirty is simply a part of life, and hardly the end of the world.

[He'll not hear anything further regarding whether or not she should have it. He had chosen it expressly for her, and how she might care to use it— or not, as the case may be— had not entered into his thought process. These scarves were meant to show devotion, appreciation, affection of any kind. It is with friendship in mind that he offers it, though he does not expect such feelings to be reciprocated anytime soon, if she comes to reciprocate them at all this time around.

Such things take time, especially given their history.]

I... do not believe there are any hard and fast rules, regarding scarves, though perhaps it is different in this world. I have seen some wear them to gather or protect their hair.

[Some might think that too practical for a piece like this one, but he certainly doesn't seem to think so.]

That's true, but seems a shame to potentially ruin something so fine.

[Her expression looks conflicted, though it doesn't seem to be because of who's given it to her so much as it is the idea of what she's to do with it. She's spreading the scarf carefully between her fingertips, taking in the details, not missing the colours or their vibrancy. Even she thinks of their homeland when looking at it. Perhaps that was a part of the intention. It leaves her heart feeling weighted and wistful for all of the things not within her grasp.

Looking back to him, she tries to imagine what it might look like used in her hair and given that she's never really indulged in such fine things or had such things given to her before, she isn't really coming up with anything helpful. Raising her eyebrows, she lifts a hand to gesture to her hair.]

...Think you could help me?

[Kisara can't quite say she knows where the words come from. She could just as easily go to Shionne. In fact, Shionne would be the better choice all the way around. She could have put it somewhere else until later. But the words are already out. It's not as though she can pluck them back and stuff them into a box.]

I mean. You don't have to. But I don't really do much with my hair, so I guess it's hard for me to picture.

[He does not know what sort of further response he might have expected, but that certainly hadn't been it, and it shows in the way his eyebrows lift, the momentary widening of his eyes before he regains his composure.

He closes his eyes just for a moment to collect himself, nodding.]

I would be happy to.

[He does not add that he might well make a mess of it himself— it wasn't until recently that he handled the very basics of his own personal care himself, let alone manage someone else's hair, but he has a strong enough picture in his head that he thinks he might be able to do just as she asks.

He holds a hand out to take the scarf from her at her leisure, careful not to let anything break through the carefully neutral mask he has slipped behind once more.]

Turn around. I think I can replicate what I've seen.

[That she wants to wear it at all means more than he'd realized, something that occurs to him as he feels something catch in his throat— his heart, perhaps, hopeful for reconciliation despite the fact that he had promised her time.]

[She has to wonder where the words came from. Asking him for help, of all people. How much does she really want it. It would be easier not to think too much about it. She's already said it. He's already agreed. That's all that matters, right? The hows, the whys, those have little meaning now.

Her amber gaze drops onto his hand that he's offered and she carefully places the length of scarf into his palm. Her touch lingers for... likely many more moments than it rightfully ought to do, maybe a touch captivated by how different they've always looked next to one another. Opposites, perhaps. In how many books has a woman protected a man? Usually, in the ones Kisara has read to the children, it's often been the other way around.

Although it would seem there are few things that she would need protection from. And it's not as though many would step up to offer her such a thing. She's certainly not like so many other women, is she.

Drawing in a breath, she finally draws back and at his request, she turns the way she's sitting, showing him her back, the black of the laces that crisscross here and there. When it's come to more simple tasks like this one, she's been careful not to wear her armour unless it's needed.]

I didn't know you knew so much about how to wear hair. I guess that would be silly of me to think, though. I've never made a habit of doing much with mine. I guess I thought it didn't matter.

[No one else was going to be looking at it for certain. It dawns on her that she's making conversation because she's nervous. She can't imagine when that started happening. Once upon a time, conversation with Dohalim used to be so easy, even when there were leagues of societal tradition between them. Why it's so difficult now, she can barely say, aside from the obvious.

Even then, however... There's a subtle little flutter of nerves that linger. What a strange thing to feel.]

[His gaze moves to their hands as her touch lingers, even if only for a few moments, and he feels himself in danger of dwelling on the meaning of such a thing for far longer than is prudent. He's quick to collect himself, curling his own fingers around the scarf, carefully taking it in both hands as she turns her back to him.

It's never been like this before, has it? Even during the time where they have had the chance to begin rebuilding their friendship, it is not often that he is able to do something for her— outside of combat, his skills are severely lacking, his efforts to improve them slow but steady, and she easily outclasses him in every one. This itself may be a small thing, but it is still a reversal, of sorts.]

You give me too much credit, perhaps.

[There's a note of amusement behind his words, of warmth.]

I have never done much with my own, either. It is hardly a failing on your part— it had no need of improvement.

[There is a compliment buried there, awkward as it is, but his words are followed by an awkward pause as he considers whether or not he ought to correct himself or clarify. Deciding he wouldn't even know how, he collects himself once more and softly clears his throat, beginning to gently gather her hair between his hands, steady and careful.]

Well, what more could you do with your hair? I guess you could have grown it out, but that takes years to do.

[And it's high maintenance. Dohalim has always been a bit of that himself, so it probably wouldn't have changed much from what he's already accustomed to. She could easily see someone tending to his hair on a daily basis. In fact, she's sure she's had her days where she took care of his. But his has always been easier to manage.

...Maybe she should consider wearing hers back.

Before she can get too far into that thought process, his words reach her ears and she pauses. "It had no need of improvement." Does... he mean hers? His own? She doesn't even know how to address that. If she even should. How to address that. The little striking of heat in her features, however, implies that he just might be referring to her hair.]

Oh, uhm. That's nice to hear. [Kisara's hands fidget at her sides and she settles her weight into her palms, as if she's trying to keep herself pieced together. She wishes she understood the subtle little flutter in the bottom of her stomach.] I mean, about the hair. Your. Hair. Mine? Both...? Your hair is nice. I mean, it has been every time I've tended to it.

[Perhaps if he were more self-aware, he would have the good sense to be embarrassed about how clumsily he had delivered that compliment, but that awkward pause passes and he lets out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle, realizing the need for clarification.]

I did mean yours, but I thank you for the compliment.

[She certainly doesn't owe him any, but he won't remind her of that. It hardly needs to be said. Instead, he lets her hair fall against her neck and between her shoulder blades, then takes the scarf and drapes it over top before he carefully begins to twist her hair into a loose knot to be wrapped. His efforts are simple, but result in her hair being neatly gathered within the scarf once it's tied.]

It is nothing extravagant, but hopefully it will be to your liking?

[She can only speculate as to what he's doing. How he's doing it. Kisara tries to commit it to memory, but without the firsthand experience, it's a struggle. In a way, perhaps it's familiar. Had... Migal done something like that when she was younger? She wouldn't have put it past him. He'd been involved in every other aspect of her life, after all. Why not that, as well?

Lifting her hands, Kisara blindly feels for the details. Where the scarf begins. The way it's wrapped about. The way her hair falls, but doesn't quite linger directly against her neck. It'll be cooler for certain.]

Does it look all right?

[Although perhaps the look portion isn't the one that's most important. Or rather, maybe it shouldn't be the most important. As she turns a little more properly to face him, there is only a moment's hesitance that crosses her features. Perhaps a shade of colour, light, where it wasn't before.]

You can probably see it better from here.

It looks...

[For a moment, it would not be untrue to say that he is left breathless; it catches in his throat even as she asks him, and it is not so much that the scarf itself has done anything extraordinary as that there has never been anything ordinary about her.

If he notices the light touch of color in her face, he doesn't say so— it might easily be explained away by time spent working in the sun, anyway. He smiles, faintly, and though it is but a small thing, he cannot help but feel that her acceptance of the gift is a step in the right direction, something closer to friendship, even if they must start anew.]

It is only a length of fabric, in the end, but you have improved it.

[He probably could have dialed that back some. Damn, Dohalim, be cool.]

Does it feel intrusive?

[As she waits for him to weigh in, there's a strange flutter of nerves that she isn't sure how to properly understand. It gets woven intricately with the preexisting feelings that have put her in such a complicated situation where he's concerned. She can still distinctly say that she isn't wholly certain of where her feelings are when it comes to the man she once so blindly followed. But standing here with him now, having him within arm's reach, she almost feels a nagging voice in the back of her mind, prodding her toward something that she, perhaps, has been intentionally ignorant to.

In denial over, perhaps.

His response, however, catches her attention. She tilts her head as if she's trying to piece it together to understand it. Dohalim's poetic demeanour has often seemed roundabout and Kisara would not say she is particularly poetic herself. Appreciative of it, but sometimes it might be lost on her.]

Hm? Oh. Well, no.

[Lifting a hand, she's reaching back to feel how he's carefully pulled her hair back in place in the scarf.]

It feels a little different, but not in a bad way. If it's not bad, I'll wear my hair like this more often. Shionne can probably help me with it since I don't know much about doing hair or clothes or... anything like that.

It is far from bad. It suits you.

[A strange, stilted way of telling her that she looks quite nice, actually, but he feels a strange tightening in his own chest as he tries to regain some sort of balance within himself. Their relationship has always been complicated; they have known one another for years, though how well they knew one another was in question now more than ever. His own feelings have often been conflicting, though the current reason for their being so is far more complex and delicate than ever.

Still, denial has never been a part of the equation for him, no matter their circumstances. He knows what he feels, or at least a very particular part of it, and the way he felt his own face warm upon her acceptance of the gift, upon seeing her wear it, serves as a strong reminder.]

I am... glad you like it.

[He feels that's a safe assumption to make, at this point.]

I know there is much work to be done here today. If there is anything I may aid you in, you need only say the word, but I am prepared to find another way to make myself useful, if not. I had only asked for a minute of your time.

[He knows full well that his presence may not yet be welcome, and he does not intend to push his luck. Not today.]

[For just some moments, it feels as if time stops. A curious thing, that. Maybe it's just her. Maybe it's the way he's looking at her. A part of her thinks that perhaps he's looked at her that way before. A part of her is inclined to find recognition in it. Another part has probably put that aside several times, likely out of a sense of denial. And denial, itself, can be quite the powerful thing.

Time continues, or at least feels a little more normal when he speaks up again.]

Oh. Huh. Well...

[What was she doing when he interrupted her again? She almost can't quite recall and that might just be a consequence of his companionship.]

I'm not sure you want to be carrying any of the stuff I was lifting. It's a little heavy. Besides, I've got it under control. And I'm not really good at growing plants or taking care of them, though I do like them. [At least, she's always admired the ones outside of Autelina.] If you need me to carry any soil or anything like that for you somewhere, I can do that.

I would not wish to take you away from the task you had already committed to.

[He realizes he had interrupted her, even if she had been allowing herself a few moments of respite when he'd approached, and his gaze briefly moves towards the organizer he'd spoken to a few minutes prior, offering a nod when their eyes meet.]

I had spoken to someone about helping the seeds take root. My astral artes are not quite the same as they were at home, but my abilities have not left me completely— I think I may be able to do something to encourage growth here, and learn more about manipulating the ambient energy in this world at the same time.

[Never let it be said that he's not resourceful when he needs to be. The theory of astral artes, he's decided, can likely be applied anywhere, if one is determined enough.]

I wish to do my part. I think— perhaps it will mean more if I do not rely on others to help me do so.

[More to whom, he does not say, but he thinks the answer to be obvious, even left unspoken. He wants her to see who he is now, who he is working hard to become.]

[He’s never had to take her up on her offers. Not back home. Not now. Kisara knows this. None of them have to, after all. She enjoys helping them, but she also understands and wants them to be able to grow without her constant input. Besides, she’s got plenty of Aldrip locals that she can bother with her sometimes overbearing self.

If one assumes that it’s possible to help others excessively.

It’s only distantly occurred to her that his artes would come into play here. There’s likely no one more fitting for that kind of work in the fields, after all. His expertise with plants and the earth itself. It makes sense that he’d want the opportunity to put these skills to use for a practical, constructive purpose. Dohalim likely feels that he has a great deal to make up for.

He does, of course.]

I think that’s respectable.

[She offers him a smile and for once since her arrival, it doesn’t seem particularly tight or a required diplomacy. If anything, it is just what it is. A smile.]

I’ll leave you to it, then. If anyone can really get into all of this, it’s you.

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{Mini Event} Day of Devotion

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I hate this man

It's okay. I still love him.

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We can probably wrap this one up, if you wantsa.