It's Chirpin' Time! [Chirper's, Pre-game, Late Afternoon] (open)
Posted: Wed Jul 19, 2023 10:48 pm
(Open, but expecting.)
Somewhere, in some far-off hidden places on the infinite planes, a Power was laughing at her; she was rather sure of it. Patron deity of lost things, and not the dead or unbelieving sort of lost things neither, but the truly lost. Like the half of every pair of socks that eventually goes missing, never to be found again. Common guess-work would have a berk think they'd gone and gotten sucked up through some planar conduit to the demi-plane of lost footwear of course. She had no cause to think otherwise, truth told. But it wasn't a sock she'd misplaced this time, and there was assuredly a limit to how many demiplanes of specific lost things she could imagine to be real.
"I swear," Sings-With-Purpose placed her hands on her hips as she stared across the room, "I keep telling her she won't get the most out of it so I don't know why she'd be inclined to keep borrowing it."
She struck quite a figure, standing there. Her dark hair and pale skin were rather the opposite of the expected celestial median, yet were perfect enough in their own manner that they seemed intrinsically a part of her upper planes heritage. And there always *was* that perfect glow about her, of course. In many a ward; most of 'em in fact; a berk with celestial blood in 'em would take care to hide such features, but she'd never seemed inclined to do so. If anything she just displayed it prominently without a care in the planes. The black jacket she wore certainly did nothing apart from drawing even more attention to her wherever she went; the illusions woven into it coming alive whenever she felt like it.
A sense of dramatic flair was important, after all.
"Now, maybe over here?"
Her side of the room had a bunch of instruments sitting there in the open. Drums, and a lute on her bed now. They were called the Lutensil, and the Keg of Drum. Or at least, that's what she'd referred to them as last week, but who knew whether that still sticked today? She regarded them with idle suspicion, as if worrying they might've come alive and hidden their compatriot from her somehow, before pretending to be mere lifeless instruments again. She kept her gaze fixed to them for some time before she looked up at the ceiling with a casual shrug.
"Tell me, snowglobe, where did my Ad Infinitum Syphon go?" she sighed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crystalline little trinket, shaking it about and causing an image to appear inside. It appeared to be some place with lava flows and thick plumes of smoke and sulfur pouring into the sky.
"Ah hells. One of them, probably. Or plane of fire, maybe?"
She plopped herself down on her bed, her eyes going wide a little as she realized the expected soft surface she was supposed to be resting on was not quite so soft. The Aasimar quickly got back up, and pulled the covers free to reveal her magical Bandore.
"Figures," Sings-With-Purpose said, smirking to herself, then started to wonder where Valeria had gone off to. They were supposed to grab some food downstairs, weren't they?
Somewhere, in some far-off hidden places on the infinite planes, a Power was laughing at her; she was rather sure of it. Patron deity of lost things, and not the dead or unbelieving sort of lost things neither, but the truly lost. Like the half of every pair of socks that eventually goes missing, never to be found again. Common guess-work would have a berk think they'd gone and gotten sucked up through some planar conduit to the demi-plane of lost footwear of course. She had no cause to think otherwise, truth told. But it wasn't a sock she'd misplaced this time, and there was assuredly a limit to how many demiplanes of specific lost things she could imagine to be real.
"I swear," Sings-With-Purpose placed her hands on her hips as she stared across the room, "I keep telling her she won't get the most out of it so I don't know why she'd be inclined to keep borrowing it."
She struck quite a figure, standing there. Her dark hair and pale skin were rather the opposite of the expected celestial median, yet were perfect enough in their own manner that they seemed intrinsically a part of her upper planes heritage. And there always *was* that perfect glow about her, of course. In many a ward; most of 'em in fact; a berk with celestial blood in 'em would take care to hide such features, but she'd never seemed inclined to do so. If anything she just displayed it prominently without a care in the planes. The black jacket she wore certainly did nothing apart from drawing even more attention to her wherever she went; the illusions woven into it coming alive whenever she felt like it.
A sense of dramatic flair was important, after all.
"Now, maybe over here?"
Her side of the room had a bunch of instruments sitting there in the open. Drums, and a lute on her bed now. They were called the Lutensil, and the Keg of Drum. Or at least, that's what she'd referred to them as last week, but who knew whether that still sticked today? She regarded them with idle suspicion, as if worrying they might've come alive and hidden their compatriot from her somehow, before pretending to be mere lifeless instruments again. She kept her gaze fixed to them for some time before she looked up at the ceiling with a casual shrug.
"Tell me, snowglobe, where did my Ad Infinitum Syphon go?" she sighed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crystalline little trinket, shaking it about and causing an image to appear inside. It appeared to be some place with lava flows and thick plumes of smoke and sulfur pouring into the sky.
"Ah hells. One of them, probably. Or plane of fire, maybe?"
She plopped herself down on her bed, her eyes going wide a little as she realized the expected soft surface she was supposed to be resting on was not quite so soft. The Aasimar quickly got back up, and pulled the covers free to reveal her magical Bandore.
"Figures," Sings-With-Purpose said, smirking to herself, then started to wonder where Valeria had gone off to. They were supposed to grab some food downstairs, weren't they?