Llyr thought to apologize when the stranger got insulted by being called a goat. He’d only been making a point of it, he considered his own wings for a moment. They weren’t like a mask, were they? They were an involuntary show of who he was… of his very soul… on the outside of him. An inverted mask? Perhaps that’s why they bothered him so much.
The young biqaj shrugged instead, then promptly got distracted by the other man’s introduction and title of captain. His eyes lit up, bright and colorful, at the full name shared. A furrow in his dark brows revealed his sense of disappointment that Tio didn’t share what he was the master of. He shrugged again, a second time, then went to cross his arms at the query about magical reasoning for forgetting his own name.
He replied, “If only it were that simple.” For magic was a simple thing. But to forget one’s name without any magic involved… that was… how did Tio put it? A bit complicated.
Their respectively polite introductions were interrupted by two more splashes in the pool of slime. Llyr fished out a mirror, and he did notice that the man leaning over his shoulder didn’t show alongside his reflection. However, any curiosity about the matter became not so important when he realized he had a snake on him. His relation with snakes were that they were predators always on the hunt for a snack. That was what the jungles had taught him. Even the most benign snakes had to be watched, in the case they carried poison on their fangs or scales. He shook the intruder off his arm.
Breath quickened a pace, he held the mirror between both his hands and watched as the other man simply caught and… spoke with the cobra.
Right. Emea. For a trill, even Llyr had forgotten where he was - that he wasn’t on Idalos. This struck him as odd, however, for he’d been journeying Emea for the past several trials and hadn’t gotten so confused in his numerous explorations. What made this dreamscape different?
Tea.
That perked Llyr away from his momentary confusion. He missed tea, after all, proper Quacian tea.
The blond kept an attentive eye on the cobra, but followed to a round table set with a pale blue cloth covered in so many lace doilies that a lattice had been created from the white cotton designs. Magpie grinned when he saw a tall and impressive tea kettle in the center. He set the mirror on the table and hurriedly looked inside the kettle.
“Oh, this is nice,” he commented, sincere and eager. “Look at it! The stout has just the proper curve, and the base is perfect to keep the bulk of the water hot, and- and- ohhh, a mesh for steeping even! How fancy! I saw one of these once, in a shop, but it was so expensive. Easily ten gold nel and…”
He paused, a silvery-blue blush rose to his cheeks. The young mage cleared his throat. He glanced around, then said, “I wonder what kind of herbs there are… I’ll prepare it, of course. Now, the water, I could boil the slime. Shouldn’t be too different from Lisirra’s plague grime, probably even better. Some slime is beneficial for the heart, did you know? Or…”
He’d turned away for just a trill, but when he turned back… he saw steam come from the kettle’s stout and could smell a thick blend of mint and earthy herbs. Llyr scratched at his blond hair and then he laughed, “Right! Emea!”
“This dreamscape is…” he moved his fidgety scratches to his neck, then under one of his eyes. “…it’s your’s, yes? It’s not mine. Obviously.”
He glanced at Sylvester the Snake, placed his hands on his hips, narrowed his amber-lit eyes and then said, “Unless it’s your’s… that’s likely. Wait, do snakes dream? If they did, would it be about tea?”
Llyr sighed. He didn’t sit down at the table yet. His fingers danced along the rounded edge, picked up a doily to turn it a few degrees around, then set it back down. The blond lifted the top off what looked like a sugar dish, but instead there were mushrooms inside. His eyes literally glittered at the sight. Another thing that Etzos seemed incapable of getting right: decent mushrooms. He set the lid back over them and then picked up the large kettle carefully. The blond poured out the tea into four round porcelain cups with only slight splashed droplets as he did so.
“Are you real, Captain Silver?” he asked in an innocent sort of manner while he poured. He gnawed on his lower lip in a brief bite. His halo brightened for a moment. He set the kettle down. Slime still dripped off his pale hair, though much of it had started to dry over his leisure attire. The biqaj waved his hands, showing the palms to the masked man in a surrendering sort of gesture. “Pardon if that insults. It’s only that… well… you don’t appear to have a reflection and that seems like something that a person who isn’t real might have in common.”
