Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,

The Invitation [23 Hispis 4385; Eigrach, Srineia]

As threatened, Harulse manifested her brilliant green and exceedingly shiny self at the front door of Strayway, wearing a brilliant green caftan embroidered with many brilliant green insect shells that matched her own. (They are not fragments of Herethroy shell -- or, at least, if I were making that caftan, they wouldn't be. I would use the shells of one of the gaudier but less tasty varieties of chub-beetle, protected by a bit of Sustenoc, which are available for about three lozens a pound in the sewing supply stores of any self-respecting city in Ketheria. (I haven't gotten to a sewing supply store in Eigrach yet.))

Harulse:[standing in front of Strayway, looking a bit lost about where the front door is.] "Ye currently ruriculous visitors, I bid thee, obstrilligate not my invitation, instead, with great impigrity, grant me admission! "


Phaniet:"Let's let her in."

So we did.

Harulse:"The hour of sodalitious delights approacheth apace! Temerate not, O foreigners; instead you shall vicambulate to the pavilion of the great mayor Mmixamk!"

Me:"This is the modest repast he mentioned, I presume?"

Harulse:"Yes, yes, O airgonauts."

So Phaniet and I made our final preparations, which included an undue amount of hat-repair. Kantele tried to engage her in conversation, but Harulse preferred to sit in the library, browsing around in our older and more comprehensive dictionaries. Occasionally she would spread her antennae with glee, and scribble some particularly obscure find in a small and well-thumbed notebook bound in pale leather.

When Phaniet and I were suitably dressed -- Phaniet in a black sheath and triple-cloak of silk, and me in proper ribbons mostly, plus that cursed hat -- we extracted Harulse from her research.

Us:"We are ready to go!"

Harulse:"And the nendrai? We have prepared the repast in our most boscaresque region, without the city walls. Famelicose or not, she must attend!"

Vae:"The I am allowed?"

Harulse:"I rarely practice fallaciloquence!"

Vae:«And what does that mean?»

Kantele:«It means, yes.»

Vae:"The wonderful!"

Me:"The you do know what you're getting in to, don't you, Harulse?"

Harulse:"Let us simply be gaudiloquent."

Vae:«And what does that mean?»

Kantele:«It means, no.»

So we went. Around the city, not the more direct way through it, because we had a terrible monster with us, so eager that she couldn't stay in one shape for three seconds at a time: a cloud of butterflies, a rowboat loaded with barrels and ballistas, a rampaging maypole, herself.

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