#[ viladlind thread 01 ]

[lonelyalchemy]

"what incredible prosthetic makeup work." chat he doesn't know.

"would you mind telling me how it was done? the horns especially are fascinating-- very lifelike."

@viladlind starter!

[refliction]

@viladlind liked for a starter !

He'd recognize that flash of pink among any crowd. He almost doesn't believe it when he first spots him, but if Gale and him had ended up here, why wouldn't Fieyro? His pace quickens to catch up, some genuine relief washing over him. It's strange, really - relief isn't an emotion he can say he's well acquainted with. It's not one he expects, ever, and the fact it rises upon seeing the tiefling sits with him uncomfortably for a moment. Still, he'd much rather not be the only person who'd been dragged to wherever this is. Once he reaches her he matches her pace, giving her a far too toothy grin.

"Well, look who got dragged in! If it isn't my favorite snack. It's good to see me and Gale aren't the only ones guilty of being kidnapped again. I was really starting to wonder where you disappeared to.. although I will admit, this certainly wasn't among my guesses."

[punisheye]

Kicked in the chest? Wolfwood's been kicked in the chest by a thomas before, it cracked his sternum and a few ribs. The vials helped him recover in no time, but the memory still makes him outwardly grimace even though he tries to fight it.

"Don't they tell ya not to stand right behind 'em? That's what they tell us 'bout thomas back home."

Right, they won't know what that is.

"Thomas're kinda like... I dunno, birds, but not really. They got hooves n'their tails got a spiked club at the end. Seen a guy get walloped in the face with one before."

Not really a pretty sight. At least it hadn't been him that time. He'd ended up being a lot more careful not to startle the animals after the chest-kicking incident.

"We don't got fancy healin' magic back home, though. Gotta rely on medicine, if you can find it. And if you can find it, then ya gotta be able to afford it."

it is a relief to hear that angelina will indeed not bite or kick fiyero, as the man eloquently puts it. just a carriage, then, one that carries him around, as well as an amount of emotional attachment. she does find that a bit amusing. in her mind, a cart is just a cart. made of wood, prone to break down, not something she had use for if she'd been able to afford it.

   perhaps she'd feel differently if she ever had one of her own— she is stupidly attached to her own instruments, inanimate as they are.

   ' never? ' it's blurted out. she doesn't really think to feel bad about the almost affronted tone, trying to wrap her head around that. ' i suppose ... i haven't seen many horses here, either. do you have no need for them in your world? '

   she wonders what in the hells thoses horses are doing, if they've been replaced by angelinas.

   the question pulls her back into the conversation, away from her thoughts. ' oh. it did. well, not my skull. ' she knocks her knuckles against her horns. ' head's too tough for that. but i had one break my tail before, stomping on it. another kicked me in the chest when i was first learning to ride. or attempting to, anyhow. '

   that memory is quite nasty. there's not a lot that will punch the breath out of you quite like the kick of a horse. she shrugs softly. ' i'm a capable healer, so neither had lasting consequences. '

   (that's only a little bit of a lie— the tail, she healed herself. her chest, the healers on dovesong took care of almost immediately. not something she's going to mention, though.)

[lonelyalchemy]

"dreadful is certainly a way to put it— but there are good people mixed into that crowd that make it more bearable." the faces of his troupe flicker into his mind, and his smile warms for the briefest of moments when he thinks of them.

"in any case, i did think you were some sort of an actor. that's just because i'm a stage director though." he hopes the offer of why he thought the way he did helps to bridge the gap his misunderstanding might have caused. "my mind immediately jumped to how i could replicate such beautiful horns and use them to make people smile."

fiyero could ask, but he waits until the title is explained to him. crossing his arms, he merely watches, waits to see if the guy will start floundering at any point. that doesn't happen, but he does apologize, so the tiefling doesn't mind indulging him a moment longer.

   ' sounds ... ' his tail flicks behind him, a bit irritated. ' dreadful, truthfully speaking. only humans? ' one of his favourite things about faerûn is its variety of people. he does like humans better than, say, your average elf, but to lack anything else? ' no wonder you mistook me for an ... actor? along those lines? '

   he shakes his head a bit. ' i'd be more offended if we weren't here. many people are unfamiliar with tieflings in particular, though none have told me i'm simply pretending. a bit of an outrageous idea, were this my home. tieflings take pride in their heritage. at least those with a good head on their shoulders do. '

[lonelyalchemy]

hmm? where has he heard that word before...? a memory comes to mind of nene explaining the appeal of a game called dungeons and dragons. "a tiefling.... like the dungeons and dragons kind...?" the word leave his mouth before he can think about them proper.

"ah, sorry... it was rude of me to compare you to something from a board game." he smiles apologetically, quick to try and make up for his mistake. "where i'm from there are only really humans about." and the virtual singers, but thats neither here nor there. "it's been a little hard for me to... adjust, i suppose."

in theory, fiyero knows most of those words. clay, sure, stuff you get from the earth. latex, yes, he's seen that in sp*t. after six months in this city he also knows what movies and television are. but the connection between those things and artificial horns doesn't click. he's a bit distracted by not being recognized as a tiefling at all. or rather, indirectly being told that he isn't one. more like, what, a human walking around with fake tiefling parts?

   ' mhm. ' an affirmative hum. ' you've never seen a tiefling? ' he must be new. not that fiyero's seen a lot of other ones around, but there's plenty of different humanoids living here.

   ' born with horns. and a tail. and fangs, and claws, these ears and this tongue— ' he sticks it out for good measure. (it's purple.) ' i have asmodean blood, as most tieflings do. you know, overlord of the nine hells? before you get ahead of yourself, don't call me a demon. '

[lonelyalchemy]

“oya, i just assumed you would know. prosthetic makeup is the use of things like clay and latex to transform the features of the face. it's rather common in movies and television especially-- you can create practically entirely new faces with it for cheap in comparisons to things like CGI and--"

rui pauses mid ted talk, blinking slowly as if just processing the explanation. "i'm sorry, did you say you were born with them...?" he must have misheard, surely.

   ' wh— huh? ' would you look at that, he's startled the bard into speechlessness. fiyero stares for a second, baffled. ' no, these are— they're real. '

   what type of conversation is he having right now? he's really not sure if he should be offended or not. fiyero raises a hand to knock against one horn, trying to show off the hard texture. he'd wiggle it to prove his point, but that feels a bit ridiculous. ' i was born with them. ' somewhat. close enough. ' why would i put on ... what? '

[refliction]

He briefly freezes in her grasp, the sensation of being hugged still so fresh to him. Given how fleeting the action is, his mind doesn't properly catch up in time to return it - but it is appreciated. Deeply so. The surprise on his face is clear once she pulls away, but afterwards a sincerity creeps in his eyes, a smile ghosting his expression. There's no effort to shake her off of him afterwards; her touch is one of the few he's been able to find comforting in the past two centuries. He may find himself disappointed when it's retracted, but for now he'll silently savor the feeling.

It's still.... odd. To see relief, even concern make it's way through Fiyero with him as the cause. Being acknowledged, truly seen in any regard has been so foreign to him. The sheer authenticity she displays around him, towards him, is something he always finds himself struggling with whenever it shows. The fact she apologizes of all things, just for leaving him - it makes him want to reassure her. First, however, he cackles at the comment about Shadowheart and Lae'zel.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, they hadn't started that yet - although now I wonder if we'll arrive back to camp with a pile of viscera to greet us. Not that I'd mind it very much, usually, but I haven't even gotten to taste either of them yet. Either way, I didn't expect to show up here either, so it'd be unfair of me to guess you somehow did. You're fine, darling - not much has happened back there anyways. Unfortunately."

The why that is remains unspoken; it should be obvious.

"Being painfully far away from revenge aside, things are.. fine. As for being fed, well, considering not many are as eager as you are to have my fangs near their neck - aside from Gale, maybe, but his blood tastes awful - it's been a while. I haven't been starving, but animals don't taste quite as good as you do."

he catches fiyero on her way to his apartment. gale had told her where the both of them lived, only a few doors down from her own place. if it were anybody else, some other neighbour moving in, she might have stopped on her hurried path there to get something for him. a welcoming gift, maybe. but she'd yearned to see astarion's face again, the one he can't see himself, to hear a quip and know him there.

   and now that he's here, at her side, before she can get there? finding her first? something in fiyero relaxes. where he tries to meet her steps, she stops abruptly, turning on her heel to face him. without really thinking about it, her arms wrap around his shoulders, wrap him in a fleeting hug— she doesn't look regrettable when she lets him go again, only a bit concerned. most of all, relief washes through her expression. one of her hands stays on his upper arm.

   ' astarion. i'm— i'm sorry. ' apology falling from her lips as though she'd been thinking it for quite some time. ' i certainly hadn't meant to end up here. i've been so worried about the lot of you. not that you're not capable, but i wouldn't put it past shadowheart and lae'zel to start stabbing each other the second i was gone. '

   her gaze softens as her eyes travel over his expression, checking the bags under his eyes. ' are you well? when was the last time you've eaten? and i mean properly, not a rat or a bird. '