Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,
Sythyry
sythyry

Originally published at Sythyry. Please leave any comments there.

Second Date [15 Thory 4261]

I got a reasonably nice blue feathery Orren dress sort of thing,
with some help from Anoof. Actually I think it’s supposed
to look like fish scales. It’s nice, and it’s fairly short,
which means I don’t trip over it as much.

I can understand Ilottat’s nervousness a bit more. He lives
in a room in the Daukrhame embassy. He shares a staircase
and four servants with seven minor diplomats and spies and
such. Since Daukrhame is a fairly political sort of place,
and Daukrhame and Vheshrame are close allies — um, by which
I mean, the Duke of Daukrhame asks the Duke of Vheshrame’s
permission to fart, though I gather that the Vheshrame
ambassador to Daukrhame has a large stack of permission
forms — the diplomat-spies are probably more interested in
Ilottat’s personal life than in Vheshrame’s secrets.

So I waddled over to the concierge sort of servant, and said
that I am Ilottat’s new girlfriend and I would like to be
announced.

Zie asked me for my name. Oops!

“I’m, well, Prepares-Feathers.”

“I see. I shall tell him that you have arrived.” Zie got
that very blank expression that Daukrhame Herethroy get
sometimes, and trotted up to the second floor, and knocked
on a somewhat battered door. “Count Ilottat, your Orren
conquest has arrived, dressed for further
conquering. Prepares-Feathers, I believe she calls herself
today.”

His apartment is full of books. Books and bottles. Books
and bottles and …

“Prepares-Feathers? Don’t you realize how opasno,
dangerous a name that is for me?”

“I had to think of one in a hurry! And it’s sort of like
Strenata’s names. Next time I’ll come up with a different
one.”

He calmed down. “I’m pretty sure it won’t be any trouble,
but I would like you to be very careful.”

And I got to look around more. Books, bottles, chalices, a
big sloppy leather-sack-of-feathers of a bed, three windows
with heavy drapes drawn, a copper candlestick with a
Flokinspaw and a little Pyrador enchantment, a desk with a
half-written something in an alphabet I don’t recognize,
three chairs, a mobile of the gods’ celestial
eidolons… Complicated and educated and rich and noble,
like Ilottat.

… and we had our clothes off and my true shape back inside
of a ninth part of an hour. A bit less awkward this time,
just as sticky, and, as Yarwain suggested, there’s not
that much difference between a bed at Darraden’s and
a feathersack in an apartment somewhere.

And, for those of you who are reading this entirely for
prurient interest: it is indeed tolerably pleasing. Or,
in Ilottat’s case, almost intolerably pleasing: he certainly
seems extremely pleased. It’s quite fun to watch.

And we sat around and chatted for an hour or so
afterwards. I got extensively flattered. He wrote a love
poem to me. It’s in Drechthalian, so I didn’t get more than
a couple words, but it sounds good.

And, for those of you who are worrying and fretting about
details, it really is about me. There are three rhymes on
my name. He doesn’t use my name, or my species –
I’m pretty sure he’s using species-independent pronouns all
through — since the servants come and tidy his papers now
and then. (It doesn’t really show — Jarmiet’s more fierce
about tidying our things.)

He has a test tomorrow, so we called it an early evening,
and I turned back into Prepares-Feathers, and got dressed,
and walked home.

Where I realized I was out of cley (from a heavy day in
Enchantment in the morning, plus the three I used Orrenning
around). Yuck. Cloak of Another God has to run its
course (a few hours), unless you use another spell to break it, and
without cley … well, I did my studying in an Orren
body tonight.

A pretty happy Orren body!

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