[Game Thread] Prologue: the Gathering

[Ehlana]

"Sounds like whatever it is was only interested in the monastery. Which argues for some sort of intelligent foe...intelligent enough to select a target." Kismet muses, taking an apple and slicing it neatly with a well-sharpened knife. She absently deposits one of the slices in Athkar's hands. "Or it may be something limited by distance, something that can't come here. Or it may be a troupe of genies granting everyone one who comes by a kingdom of their own to rule, with riches and luxury." She shrugs, grinning. "Not enough information to speculate intelligently. But what is this bobbing for apulse?" She looks curiously at Alona.

[The Fool]

Athkar takes the half of an apple, taking a bite. "I think she meant 'bobbing for apples', Kismet," he says, the corners of his eyes very faintly crinkling with amusement, even as his voice remains completely devoid of emotional inflection. "I hope it is not the genies. You get into enough trouble, Kismet, without the wealth of a Kingdom at your disposal."

[Ehlana]

Kismet sticks her tongue out at Athkar, taking clear delight in the childish gesture. "All right then, what does "bobbing for -apples-" mean then?" She inquires. "And you'd better hope it's not genies, Athkar, because the first thing I'd wish would be for your hair to turn purple and for your skin to have pink polka dots the size of gold pieces all over it." She pokes the monk's stomach affectionately.

[The Fool]

He looks at her blankly, his seriousness creating a comical contrast to Kismet's child-like playfulness. "...I don't have hair."

[Ehlana]

Kismet suddenly looks particularly bland, almost a match for Athkar. "You do somewhere...and if you don't... please don't tell me. Some things, I have no wish to know." She takes a slice of bread and butters it, then passes it to him and prepares a second for herself. Her eyes have the expectant look of someone waiting for the copper to drop as she glances at her friend. Attempting to make him embarrassed is almost as fun as attempting to make him laugh and relax. In fact, Athkar is always a lot of fun, at least to her. She can always trust him not to fly off the handle no matter how outrageous her teasing gets.

[The Fool]

She gets her wish. He reaches for the bread and has just bitten into it when he suddenly stops for the briefest of moments, and Kismet sees a flicker of shocked realization hit his eyes before he covers it up again and resumes chewing. It's almost impossible to notice for someone who isn't looking for it, but for those who know Athkar, seeing that is as good as a spit-take.

[Mal Radagast]

The hearth dances as the others converse, and the fire takes an effect upon Alona... Without, she grows quiet and quite still, almost languid in her posture and expression - while within, she grows restless, itchy. A fierce mischief dances alongside the fire, laughing, exultant and vital. It is easy to be lost in that laughter, for a little while, staring into the fire...

She hears the speculation of potential dangers, but has nothing to add - they'll find out where these fellows are disappearing to, when they get there. No sense worrying about it until there's some thing to worry about, or at least some guess that's better than any other. The dwarfly woman says something to that effect, and Alona nods. Her eyes are still fixed in the fire, though, until the mention of apples.

Honey-colored tangles of hair twitch as she turns her head, eyes alight still from the fire. "Appulce, yes! They fill ay big halve-barrel with beer and appulce - then if yew wont an appul, yew have to hold yeur hands behind yeur back and yew duck yeur head in, lyke a goose!" She pauses. "It's not so eacy as it sounds, especially after the furst few. Yew should come aylong, Trouble - we will fynd yew some mischief." Then a wink. "Or yew can just wotch the big burly Svallard lads bobbing lyke geese!"

As an afterthought, Alona glances askance at Isaiah, with a half-mocking quirk of her eyebrow. "It may be yeur bedtime, friend." She chuckles. "I am going to fynd my mischief, with or without Trouble." Grinning, she takes another chunk of cheese and tears off some bread - not at all nearly so reserved as her companions seem to be. Her attention returns mostly to fire and food, and apples.