'S
o they, ever concerned with the fidelity of their arts, would place upon their heads a cap of thin leathers to hide the hairs. Moistening the leathers with water the performer would wear the cap through several days, allowing the leather to from tightly to their head and washing away wrinkle with sponge. With great care the performer would then mix and blend dozens of proper pigments in hope of a reasonable recreation of their own skin tones, and upon the formed cap paint a facsimile of their head. Quite often, should character themselves not lack a mane, actor would be fitted by wigmaker for false locks. Often of fashioned from hairs of horse, sheeps, or goat. In other productions layer upon layers of makeup would be applied to the totality of the exposed actors flesh, often when performer was to assume the role of a race such as the mer. Herein, the author has listed a dozen common pigments used, there proper production and mixing for the most common races of Idalos.'
Paladin had, in times past, studied far and wide. From history, to strategy, to philosophy, to naturalism, but this is perhaps the first time he has over tried to understand the theatrical arts. An area in which he had little interest, he was quite honestly surprised the lengths that some of the great performers had gone to better represent the subject of their art. Some men would live as there subject for a time, no matter how loathsome the subject may have been. Some would spend hours studying painters arts and slather their bodies in thin paints. Some would even go so far as permanent body modification. Paladin saw little reason for that. He needed only simplicity. A 'bald cap' and perhaps wig, and maybe the hands of a woman or noble man in application of makeup.
Setting the book aside the warrior leaned back upon the edges of his chair as his heavy feet rose and crossed atop the table before him. 'Theatrical Student', 'Death Rituals of Idalos', 'The Generals Alchemist', and dozen more books and scrolls were scattered across the wide table which, to the complaint of some, Paladin had establish a six trial domination. Throwing his head back as he rubbed his eyes, leaving behind flinching pink and green fairies in his vision, the student let out breathy sigh. Since sunrise to sunset of the past trials he had been behind walls of paper absorbing all he could on all he would need. And, despite his love for the quest, his brain fatigued with the education.
Though perhaps now he was ready. Carefully he had managed the placement of his pieces upon the board, and more carefully he had studied books by which he would play them. A relationship with the pig farmer, Toby Porter, was first. Second a basic knowledge of disguise and obfuscation. Third a method by which to cover his egress. And fourth was... Faith?
A twinkle lit behind his tired green eyes as he spied a feather headed girl sitting silently at window bay. He had seen her dozens time before, hidden by distance and perched upon obscurity as he had studied and planned his works. She, he did not think, had seen he though. Paladin had been careful. Watching from afar to better understand the coming and going of a man who he would soon meet once more. He could not afford her, as she was once his, alerting him to the lurking.
For a long time the warrior studied the girl in half certainty. He had lost track of her during late Ymiden when, so the warrior assumed, her master had handed her chains to some other. A noble, perhaps, judging by her preened vision. A little raven girl grown to a stately raven woman. And a beautiful one, no doubt, though the swordsman could not help but wonder if she had lost the frail charm of her prior servitude. Still... was that a smile upon her lips? The hit of joy behind those terrifying steel eyes? Paladin smiled. She was a Fool. But a happy Fool. A fate he would, sometimes, willingly trade for.
She still wore chains...
For a time he considered approaching her. To ask upon her health and new found status of the slave of... some pompous self absorbed flighty foppish self aggrandizing silver spoon licking high birth master. Paladin scoffed. Perhaps his taste for the nobility of Rynmere was becoming more sour than was truly warranted? He did not know this man. Or woman. Or collective that held the girls chains. They had obviously allowed some false freedom to study. So some concern for her well being was demonstrated. If they truly cared though... what did she study? No doubt some foolishness related to her servitude. 'How to be a Fool', 'Slave womans role in bed' 'Cooking without rat poison' 'How to lick boots and cower to the falsely superior peoples who attained tyranny via a corrupt and psychopathic cultural structure bore not of concern for the fellow mortal but lust greed and apathy... By the Bitch Queen Raskalarn'.
~Paladin....~
'I know. Allow me my moments of cynicism.'
She seemed so at peace. So content. With the sole meeting they had... not quite the relation that the swordsman would have wished, her assumptions and insults grating an already raw nerve. She had, in her way, pushed an uncertainty upon him. A doubt that all could be free of Tyranny. And, for several trails, he had let that anger fester in his guts. She to he, had been a symbol for all dark in this world. A perfect example of the works of Tyrants would strip and rape and cut away at the... humanity. But, not unlike she, Paladin too had begun to change. Though his metamorphosis was far from complete...
Since late in Ymiden he and his Lady of White Fire had spoken often, perhaps more often than at anytime after his resurrection. The girl, in her own way accusations, prompting the meetings. Forcing he to recognize his infidelity to his own beliefs, how ever deeply held they were. And, in that one brief meeting, the damned feather head forced Paladin to germinate a way more true to his own claims.
In the past fifteen or so trials, a serenity of purpose had begun to wash at the omnipresent anger within the warrior. A cloth of calmness cast about his shoulders like the shawl of a mourner coming to peace with their loss. And even, at times, he had begun to smile more. Not the half faced cynical half smirk he gave to grease wheels of others, but true smiles. Soft warm smiles.
~You wish to speak with her?~
'I do.'
~Why do you deny yourself?~
Pala had begun this habit not long ago. To ask question that they both knew the answers to. It was the manifestations of these thoughts that were the only way the warrior confronted that best left unconfronted. 'I fear. For her.'
The feather head was at peace. He wished not to be a force of unwelcome disruption to such placidity. Their last meeting had left sour tastes in his mouth, as in no doubt did she, and despite his annoyance with the foolish raven he wished nothing more than sweetness for she.
~You have affection for her?~
The warrior rolled his eyes as his hands busied themselves reorganizing the small library spread across his small domain. Pala was playing games. Forcing him to consider that which he best not consider.
“No...” 'Not in sense of attraction. Look at the waif. All skin and...curves now, I suppose. Either way, not a inch of muscle. Such soft woman are for soft men. Let the nobles enjoy their cotton,'
"I prefer jute.”
~Truely?~
'Whats your game?'
~Such as that mercenary girl?~ Pala dodged answer, as she always did.
'Of her sort... Powerful. Smart. Beauty of struggle. Wise. Though I hardly consider her to be all those.'
~I see...~
'Of course you do. Regardless. My attractions are moot. You are my only woman, and thus far, I your only man. Lust would only be distraction.'
~Not lust. Love.~
The warrior nearly laughed, only stifling his outburst with a gloved hand. 'You are so concerned with it. Are you jealous?'
~It is a mortal thing.~
Paladin grinned. That should shut her mouth for awhile now.
Watching as the three descended from above and rose from the seat across him, Paladin watched the Norn make a lazy way towards the raven in gentle repose. For a moment the three circled the once waif before two took to land atop the thin bay of the library windows. The first though was not content with so such distance and instead took perch upon the studious woman's shoulder.
“Innocent?” the ghost mumbled as it pecked softly at her ear. The Norn were curios. Particularly the first who had taken a certain concern with the girl. The third though was still sore from the encounter.
Paladin let his seat fall onto all four legs and stood, his knee complaining about the sudden weight.
“Feather head?”
Dialogue Color Key
"Paladin." "Norn." ~Pala~
