A Rare Blossom

A Rare Blossom
Date of Scene:	22 November 2012
Location:	Cornelia
Synopsis:	Chasing the rumor of a skilled seamstress, if one can chase at so sedate a pace, Ivo finds more than he bargained for amidst the charming cottages of Cornelia when he at last encounters the Lady Albaste. Why has so lovely a flower secreted herself away? Could this rare encounter blossom into a story all its own?
Cast of Characters:	Ivo Galvan, Morgan Albaste

---

Morgan Albaste has posed:
Ah, Cornelia~

What a happenin' place! Rife with activity! A real... uh.. mecca of.....

Let's try that again. Cornelia! Oldschool, quaint... relatively 'safe'. The town itself is encompassed within a simple stone wall, much as a bird would reside in a nest. Many have long since placed a degree of reliance upon that wall; however, one concentrated effort on behalf of a ferocious-enough foe would surely lay the town's defenses asunder. Lest we forget the Tramdine Fens; how the mire sprawls not too far off from the town and in turn, bears all manner of ghastly things.

Luckily, no threat is to be detected in the vicinity, this day. The sun has long since risen, casting the brilliance of high noon upon the sleepy homes below. The rooftops are alight; the cobbles of the streets and walkways below seem to glow as a result of the dew from the night before becoming illuminated. This is the typical idyllic day for Cornelia and her denizens... a church-bell clangs melodiously at the end of town, accompanied by the steady rush of the town's central fountain. Civilians are out and about, many of them older and on their way home from work for lunch and/or from church.

Quite a few make conversation in the street, and so busy are they that most do not take much notice of something small, gray and fluffy resting in a thatch of grass, just off the side of the cobbled walkway.

Now.. whatever could that be...? To pick it up and inspect it is to see not a troubled creature but... a stuffed toy...?

Ivo Galvan has posed:
Ivo Galvan is a man on a mission, not that one could tell.

The young knight-errant strolls with languid ease down Cornelia's rustic streets and past its charming cottages, blue cloak trailing behind him, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword Hauteclare. A slight contented smile upturns the corners of his lips as his calm gaze traces the contours of his surroundings. His curiosity is undismayed by the seemingly mundane. An elderly lady watering flowers on her stoop gets a friendly nod, her sleepy cat a quirk of an eyebrow in acknowledgment. Unlike his boy leader, Ivo, mastermind of the Shard Seekers, is not an explorer by nature, per se, but he is an aesthete. The world is almost always more interesting than it at first appears. And when it isn't--

"Hm?"

He can make it so.

In a package under his other arm is borne a recent prize: the fibrous leaves of the red toyon, a rare tree native to the Golmore Jungle, capable of being treated and woven into a fireproof fabric by skilled and knowledgable hands. Rumors tell of a talented seamstress in Cornelia, and it is her he seeks. But his pace suggests he is in no hurry, and within moments he stops completely, his perceptive gaze drawn to an incongruous patch of color in the grass. Ivo stares for a second before, smile broadening a little, he approaches, bending over, and picking it up.

"Cute."

He turns, looking about for the owner. Some little girl, no doubt.

Actually-- he glances back at the object in his hand, noting the fine stitching and loving care with which it was crafted. Could it be the work of the seamstress, too? Perhaps whatever child owns this can direct him to its maker.

Morgan Albaste has posed:
Freed from the grass, the stuffed critter appears to be a... feline. Why, it's a stuffed kitty! Held now in the hand of the knight-errant, the well-made toy almost seems to be staring right at him with those black button eyes! Endearing or creepy.. your call~

But indeed, the toy has been made with great care. The stitches are fine, the fabric and synthetic fur of a good quality. There is no evident tag to be found, but as Ivo looks it over the older woman with her cat, noted before, is in-turn watching him.

Having put aside the watering can and scooped up her floppy old feline, she ambles over toward the young gent in the blue cloak and affixes the toy in his hand with a murky stare. "Hn," She exhales, squinting papery eyelids against the sunlight. With a sort of gall that the elderly seem to possess, she reaches forth with a small hand and pinches the ear of the toy cat. "Funny that should be out here.. looks like one of the kids dropped it," The old woman muses, looking up into Ivo's face. His smile sets her at ease as she ruminates a bit.

Her own /live/ cat, meanwhile, flicks an ear and utters a long 'waaaaao~'. "Lady Albaste's work." The woman clarifies, peering toward the eastern part of the town. A row of houses are set up neatly, and it is to one at the farthest edge that she gestures. "Lives up that way, that seamstress does. Very quiet sort, though she has a thing for making toys for kids.."

Ivo Galvan has posed:
Ivo smiles gamely as the old woman approaches, fingers of sunlight framing the bucolic moment as she leans in. He's silent as she and her cat separately voice their opinions on the matter, but upon her gesture he inclines his head in a modest bow. "Thank you, madam," the young man says, formality unforced. "Perhaps she'll know its owner, then." He begins to amble in the direction indicated, tossing the stuffed cat lightly up into the air once and catching it, still smiling to himself. So this seamstress delights in crafting cuddly toys for children, hm? He imagines a frumpy red-cheeked homebody, walls stacked with little animals, and chuckles despite himself. If she's as gifted as they say, nothing else matters, obviously.

Of course, the more interesting the better.

As usual, Ivo's in no rush. He pauses to greet a few idle-looking locals and casually ask about recent events, his brain ever accumulating a greater network of information, odd facts, and notable personages however humble. Confirming the seamstress's address, he soon finds himself before the door to her abode, stopping to look up at the building before approaching to knock upon the door. But finding it slightly ajar, swinging in at his knock, he then pushes forward, leaning in to peer into the interior, stuffed toy in hand.

"Lady Albaste...?"

Morgan Albaste has posed:
"You're welcome, lad," The elderly woman remarks as Ivo bows his head lightly to her. "She'll be pleased if you brought that over.. sh'got a mind like a steel trap. She'll remember whom that kitten belongs to." She remarks, perhaps furthering the illusion that this seamstress is an old homebody. Thus, off the gallant Ivo goes! The old gal watches him traipse off, cloak rippling behind him, and her gnarled hand rises to scritch her aging pet beneath his chin.

Once the knight-errant approaches the homestead proper, after engaging the locals, he shall find the very small patch of yard allotted to the property is meticulously tended to! So.. not only a red-cheeked homebody, but a gardener as well...! Ivo needn't linger long outside of the homestead because the entrance /is/ left open and ajar, leading into a quaint foyer with yet another door awaiting. To pass through is to step into a profoundly cozy, welcoming space. A small bell just above the doorway announces the new arrival to the lady of the house and somewhere in the structure, she is very much aware.

"Just a moment," Calls a woman's voice, smooth and gentle with just the right amount of trill to it. A candle within a fancy-looking lantern dances and flickers merrily, suspended at Ivo's right. The decor in the room is dated, but well-maintained; there is some manner of potpourri here... some sort of dried array of flowers. Looks like the fine dwelling of some well-to-do old lady~

Footsteps can be heard in a staccato, from the ceiling above.

Ivo Galvan has posed:
Whoever this old lady is, she's got good taste.

And an unexpectedly lovely voice. "Take your time, please," Ivo calls back, his low voice hinting at amusement and intrigue. Far from his fantasy of stuffed animals piled shoulder-high, the tasteful decor of the den draws his roving eye, and he begins to browse as one might at an art gallery, though without moving much throughout the room. While not going so far as to engage in a crass investigation, he is rather impressed at how cozy, not cluttered, her house has turned out to be.

He uses the first moments, when she is less likely to arrive, to train his gaze upon the photographs on the wall, noting the couple prominently displayed in some of them. Could this have been the woman at a younger age? A widow, perhaps? Eventually, after sweeping the furniture, he turns toward the cabinet, and smile broadening, steps over to it, admiring the stoneware encased within.

"Hmm..."

From which world's history do these pieces hail? More has been tangled in the fusion of worlds than the living. What disparate pasts would an archeological expedition uncover in this strange new land? He files away that thought for later.

Morgan Albaste has posed:
Odd, too, how the footsteps above do not sound too cumbersome. They're rather swift, in fact; light and careful. Ivo is left to the innocuous perusal of the room for about another two or three minutes until the footsteps can be heard descending a stairwell. For all appearances this room does not appear to be a storefront... but looks can be deceiving. And if the door has been left open so welcomingly.. complete with the bell.. then surely---

Ah, but the lady of the house has arrived! She pauses at the bottom of the stairs just as Ivo is perhaps finishing up his glance at and into the cabinet... though the sight of him doing so does not alarm Ms. Albaste too much.

Not at all, in fact. She exhales through her nostrils silently, and rather than give a most unladylike clearing of the throat, she simply elects to capture the young man's attention with a good old-fashioned.. "Hello, sir knight."

Says not an elderly homebody at all but a tall, willowy Elf. Clear-eyed and dark-haired and... not at /all/ red cheeked. 9___9;;

Quite the contrary. Caught up in the trappings of a wine red, empire-waist gown... Ms. Morgan Albaste is alabaster-skinned and young.. at a glance. She watches Ivo thoughtfully as she awaits his regard.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" The Elf asks amicably in her dusky timbre.

Ivo Galvan has posed:
Ivo's eyebrows shoot up.

To his credit, the young swordsman's astute expression barely flickers otherwise as the Lady Albaste makes her debut, his blue eyes meeting her own without registering shock or surprise, his slight smile as it was. Perhaps raising his eyebrows was simply a reaction to the sudden presence of another. Or perhaps--

"Good afternoon, milady."

It hints at the thought that immediately ran through his head upon her arrival.

"As a matter of fact, I've come to beg your aid."

'What a babe!'

His smile broadening, he takes the package out from under his arm. "The rumors testify to your skill by what they do not say, Lady Albaste," he says lightly, delight beginning to sparkle in his eyes. "Those who spoke of you were so taken by your talents they neglected to mention your ravishing beauty. You must be a master indeed." Flattery is best when sincere. He seems as entertained by this development as he is pleased on a, well, more fundamental level. He pauses then, however, and sets the package down, ignoring his mission for the moment. "Oh, but-- I had the privilege of seeing some of your handiwork just moments ago."

He lifts the small stuffed cat into the light instead, displaying it for the Elf. This wasn't what he planned, but the emergence of a cute girl has changed the game entirely. "I believe this is yours." For when it comes to cute girls, there's one thing Ivo finds almost irresistable--

"Did you forget this outside after you finished playing?"

Teasing them.

"It's much too fine to lose, so do please take care of your toys."

Eyes still glittering with mirth, his smile splits into a warm grin.

"Ivo Galvan, swordsman of the Shard Seekers. Charmed."

Yes, clearly.

Morgan Albaste has posed:
Honestly, Morgan is somewhat used to folks coming to her home to seek her services. Which is /good/. Not only that, but most appear and upon seeing this dated home, /always/ think her to be a crone. She has received a variety of responses... and instinctively she pinions her pale gray gaze to Ivo's face as he registers her arrival. She holds this stare, almost boldly, but her overall body language speaks not of aloofness but rather.. calmness. Curiosity. She has not spied this knight in her home town before.

Lash-fringed eyes look Ivo over, from the crown of his head to the tips of his boots. Mayhaps her artisan mind is trying to peg the make and location from whence Ivo's attire -- and subsequently Ivo himself -- came from. Maybe she's just committing his features to memory. Mayhaps it's all of the above! But my, the Elf has an intense gaze..

"Do you now? Then, I am pleased to be available to you. I was to depart for a time, but I am relieved that I was delayed." Morgan admits and finally, a hint of a smile. She steps forth from the stoop of the stairwell and approaches the young knight-errant, watching thoughtfully as he produces a parcel.. only to set it down. Right after dealing her a considerable compliment, in response to which the slightest bit of color imbues her high cheekbones. "Ah," She exhales, pausing now at a conversational distance. "I thank you for your faith... I suspect you thought me an old woman, no? Most do." Morgan muses, her words touched with some manner of an accent. She looks and sounds kind, now.

Then, up comes the stuffie! Morgan blinks once, twice.. is ready to graciously accept the toy and proclaim it's owner until---

Ivo teases. Teases well. Morgan is not used to being teased.. especially by dashing men. She looks first to the toy and then back to Ivo's face. "Ah---hah, haha.. hn," She exhales, her color deepening. "Ah, yes.. yes, but I shall have to be more careful. How silly of me. You found me out." She proclaims, trying to give as good as she gets. A slender hand reaches forth for the toy cat. "Sir Ivo Galvan, t'is a pleasure. Morgan Albaste.. seamstress, toy tester. How might I aide you? No begging required."

Ivo Galvan has posed:
Cute and plays along? Sign Ivo up.

Both the lovely elf's momentary stumble and valiant social recovery are noted by the knight-errant, who at this point is visibly having the time of his life, engaged as he is in one of his favorite activities. Her charming blush suggests an opening he cannot ignore. When she reaches out her hand, perhaps a little distractedly, for the toy cat--

"I assure you, milady..."

--Ivo 'misinterprets' the gesture by lightly taking her hand, leaning in, and brushing his lips along her knuckles in a gallant gesture which takes merciless aim at her composure.

"...the pleasure is all mine."

He straightens and the toy is in her hand, as though nothing had occurred, the young man smiling broadly as before. "Ah, yes, my task. Forgive me. The sight of you must have addled my wits." He takes up the package he had set down and with a casual gesture undoes the binding, revealing a tightly stacked clump of broad, thick, veined five-forked leaves. "A dear friend is a sorceress of flame who struggles to contain her power, resulting in a... constant rotation of outfits. The leaves of the Red Toyon," nodding his head down at the jungle plants cradled in his grasp, "are said to have fire-resistant properties when woven into a fabric, but though there is a skilled seamstress amongst the Seekers, she is young and not familiar with such craft, particularly with these advanced materials. Having heard of your ability and knowing not to whom to turn, I'm hopeful you may have some insight into our predicament."

He smiles again, tilting his head slightly.

"The outfit itself we needn't trouble you with, but the production of the fabric is, I am sorry to say, beyond us. Of course, I'm prepared to compensate you for the bother."

A pause, before his smile splits into an irrepressible grin again.

"Say, with a dinner for two."

It's becoming a bit unclear what his primary objective is at this point.

Morgan Albaste has posed:
B'uh... b'uh...

Let's rephrase. Morgan is used to being mistaken for a crone. She's used to people arriving and retconning their assumptions. However...

... she is NOt used to young knights teasing her AND kissing her hand in a most gallant fashion in her own den! *ahem*

She's still taken aback by the time her hand is drawn back and her own retaliation to Ivo's teasing dealt. Holding the toy cat now, she pulls it to her bosom as if reconciling with it.. even if /she/ weren't the one who misplaced it! Those eyes resume their watchful account of Ivo's face as she tries to get him back on course with his task: the parcel on the table! She cants her chin a bit, clears her throat in charming fluster, and lends an ear as the knight-errant speaks further to her. Following Ivo's comment of 'addled wits', Morgan's lips curl up at their corners ever-so-slightly, though her gaze remains upon the parcel as the young man picks it up. Unfurls the wrapping to reveal....

... a most curious array of leaves! The Elf's mouth opens slightly in a gentle gasp, but she does not reach forth to touch until she hearsw Ivo out completely. She looks him ni the eye again as he explains the leaves, their use.. and what is to be done with them. "My word..." She whispers, and bows her ebony-haired head once. Her low-hanging ponytail, the ribbon ready to burst from the weight of so much hair, shakes as she does so. "Mmm..."

"Might I touch these leaves? Hold them?" Morgan asks gently, and will hold both hands out should Ivo concede. One can just SEE the gears turning in her head...! The look of reverence dawns upon her visage as, finally, it all sinks in. "I should.... like very much to try, for you. To succeed, too. I've faith that I will be able to do as you wish." Morgan says softly.. her tone gentle but expression and body language rather confident. "I---"

Hm.. that grin again. Morgan blinks once, her head tilting. A.. dinner for two? As payment? The Elf gazes outright at Ivo and there, well and truly.. she blushes. /Red/. XD

all sorts of firsts happening, here!

Ivo Galvan has posed:
This venture is promising to have been most rewarding.

"You may touch whatever you please," Ivo murmurs mildly. Down, boy. As he passes the leaves, cradled in the sheet which had bound them, to her slender hands, he takes a moment to admire her look of intense concentration, a smile beginning to play about his lips again. The heavy sway of her hair is as alluring as her fluster, so unexpected in a lady seemingly possessed of such natural grace and refinement. What would it be to see such hair unbound? Or to see it tossed back, her lips parting as she--

Er, where were we? Those stoneware plates were quite interesting.

Ivo seems to busy himself with scanning the room again, eyebrows raising, averting his gaze until his internal temperature cools a little. No need to get carried away. Even if most reasonable persons would suggest he long since already has. Still, when she looks up at him and he glances back at her, his composure appears as unflappable as ever.

"Try, for me?"

His smile widens, his eyes delighted all over again, as his intonation suggests she has betrayed some special favor for him already. That he is likely twisting her words is hardly of import. "Then I shall entrust them to you with the highest hopes," he says breezily, as though unworried. In fact, if she screws this up, he doesn't have any other options in mind, but he's already concluded this was his best shot in any case. Besides, she seems highly competent.

"Why, Lady Albaste..."

If unexpectedly shy.

"...surely you must receive such invitations all the time."

He tilts his head a little, spreading his arms in a open gesture, his blue eyes fixed on her gentle gaze. "But should you choose to accept nevertheless, having had the opportunity to explore some of the finest cuisine of this strange new world, I promise to deliver a meal which will more than compensate for my inferior charm and crude manners."

Morgan Albaste has posed:
Well, if Morgan knew she were causing some fluster for Ivo himself, mayhaps she wouldn't feel quite as bad about reddening like some gaggy young girl...! She can feel the heat in her face as she now holds the leaves, fingers perusing their texture and shape. Her gaze is downcast and set in a glowing face as she takes her time, already pondering how to incorporate these into a functional attire for withstanding a fire mage's combustion.

When Ivo elects to look around the room to cool his jets, Morgan is looking at him again and noting the path of his gaze. Not out of mistrust but mere curiousity; when he looks back to Morgan, she will catch his eyes again with her own. She goes on with cradling the exotic leaves, a look of pensive seriousness dominating her expression. "A fabric, to bear these leaves safely... if I were to weave these leaves into such, shall you bear the fabric to your seamstress at home so that she may fashion an actual outfit? Or, if you so desire, shall I look after the full job? If you give me some specifications for the mage to whom this shall belong to... I can fashion something in entirety for her."

A pregnant pause, and Morgan looks upon the leaves again. "I would be happy to do either... most of all, I shall see to it that these leaves serve their purpose." She promises in her smooth voice, stroking the leaves again reverently. "I thank you for your faith, Sir Galvan. I should have this ready in a couple of days' time.... or a bit longer, should I fashion an entire ensemble."

She's about to launch further into business, until... Ivo asks a money question! Cue blush, round 2! It's Morgan's turn, now, to glance at that cabinet. "I.... no, I receive no such thing. I keep to myself, you see." She admits, her brow furrowing a bit. "Aside from business... t'is safer that way."

She is not above smiling shyly, however, at the prospect of 'fine cuisine'. "You've been enjoyable, Sir Galvan. You needn't deem yourself crude or.... inferior in your charm. Surely you knightly sorts regal many a lass, in your travels."

Ivo Galvan has posed:
It would, in fact, be convenient were Ivo to have Morgan fashion the garment entire, but all it takes is for the young man to flash back to the rather scanty design he's drawn up for Maira's garb to conclude that this might be unwise -- even if it would be entertaining to possibly see the charming elf blush over it all the more. "I regret to say I don't have the lady in question's measurements myself, or I would take you up on your kind offer." Though he has a good guess as to Maira's-- nah, best to be precise about it. "No, crafting the fabric alone would fulfill all my hopes. Well--"

His smile widens again.

"Most of them."

The elegant lady appears abashed all over again, much to Ivo's continued delight. The pleased turn of his lips does waver a bit, however, at the mention of safety. Of course, some manner of trauma could be the only explanation for such a rare blossom to hide herself away in so secluded a garden. His smile softens a bit. Now's not the time to get into that, curious about her though he may be. Best to gloss the issue as gracefully as possible.

"Then I should warn you, before your task is completed and your reward is due," he says gently, his eyes still warm with latent mirth. "Your valued safety might be slightly compromised in my presence. Even a knight's discipline is taxed by peerless beauty. Will you brave the danger of dining with a man so stricken by your charms?"

Ivo's eyebrows quirk upward briefly, electing neither to confirm nor deny whether any other women have been subject to his honeyed words before.

Morgan Albaste has posed:
"It shall be done, sir knight." Morgan says, not bothered in the least to only have to work on the fabric. Just as well.. it's a great honor. She will be able to focus well and wholly upon weaving these precious leaves into a malleable fabric that shall someday outfit a fire mage. Yes, yes... Morgan already has Plans!

Perhaps it's for the best, too, that she not know the 'scanty design' that is in store for said fabric. But then again, it's not her business anyway! Sure would make her blush again, though~

Rest assured though, the willowy Elf sees fit not to explain /why/ she must keep herself safe. It's a fleeting topic, mentioned offhandedly and easily left behind out of the Elf's own intent. For now she has this rather amicable knight in her home, and despite her fluster and his continued shots at charm Ivo /has/ amused Morgan muchly. It's refreshing, though she does feel as if her face is branded by this redness. She just is /not/ used to it..! She looks up from the black fringe of her eyelashes again, pulling the leaves closer to her body and instead, holding out the stuffed cat in offering. "You may have this. The child to whom this belonged, she will have long since forgotten it... and chances are I will have to make something else for her anyway." The Elf offers with her attempt at a wink, before dissolving into light laughter.

It feels good to laugh.

"I shall brave this challenge, then. Just know that I am not one for spicy dishes." Morgan advises shyly. What harm could it do?

Ivo Galvan has posed:
Ivo is rethinking his previous position. He'd have to get Maira's measurements, of course, but at this rate, the Lady Albaste might be more amenable to his designs, as it were, than Shiki Misaki. Well, at the very least, he'll have a highly entertaining alternative, yes?

The young man's smiling to himself just thinking about it when the lovely elf offers him the toy which led him here, eliciting a startled blink. Ivo didn't anticipate the kind gesture, and he seems bemused for a brief moment before he smiles, eyes softening, actually a bit touched. "Then I shall gladly take it, as a memento of our first meeting," he murmurs, "and cradle it as though it were you." He doesn't let up for a minute. Still, having been so poised all conversation, her unexpected generosity seems to have caught him a bit flatfooted. Perhaps his flattery is a means of recuperating himself this time.

It's not quite enough. He blinks again as her silvery laughter graces his ear, and then, of all things, she winks at him. It's almost a clumsy gesture, a spirited attempt to transcend what appears to be her own natural modesty and reserve, and it is thus nearly /too/ charming. Heart quickened, his lips part slightly, and--

"Aheh... ha ha ha."

Ivo actually blushes.

Just a hint, mind you, of rose around his cheekbones. Perhaps she'll miss it. But Ivo Galvan is rarely surprised, and when he is, his moments of vulnerability are notable indeed. The tables are only turned briefly, however. He gathers himself swiftly, his smile broadening and winning once more. "Courageous as well? There is no virtue you do not possess. Then I will gladly oblige." He turns away, but tilts his head to look over his shoulder, maintaining unbroken eye contact. "I'll refrain from spicing your dish--"

Lifting his off-hand in a farewell salute, Ivo winks back.

"--and endeavor to spice up your life."

He exits the Albaste residence with a curious smile and contemplative eyes, idly tossing up a small stuffed cat and catching it periodically as he strolls on, thoughts inscrutible.