A few complaints to register

[wylderrant]

Name: Iramaat
Date: 5/21
Format: Voice/Picture

[ The wonderful denizens of Aefenglom are treated to Iramaat's dulcet tones - although they're pitched down into something almost like a pout or even despair. ]

This is unacceptable, it really is. [ There's a long-suffering sigh and then she continues. ]

Pulling me across time and space and one thing, but this? Is another. They've changed my ears! My beautiful, beautiful ears...

[ Sounds like someone got their first bit of change since their arrival. And she decides to prove that am oment later with a sepia-toned picture of herself. Her long, pointy elf-ears have been replaced with a pair of ears that more closely resemble those of a deer (and they seem to have shifted slightly up the sides of her head). They've even got that dusting of fur, although it's hard to tell what color it all is. Her expression is incredibly morose and not at all happy. Maybe even a bit overwrought. ]

At least tell me I'm not the only one...? [ Well, she half knows that, but she wants to confirm it. ]

Comments

voice. don't mind me just... 8) drops a tag here a month late...

[veilfires]

[At the deepest level, Solas is deeply grieved - his people have lost so much, and this is another example of such a loss. To be twisted against her will... it strikes him at his core. It reaffirms his wish to save his people, Iramaat included. He's indignant, also, to see that in her naivety she makes public her grief to the maddening masses who cannot understand.

But, well. There's also a more superficial feeling - the same part of him frustrated by, and envious of, Iramaat - that's prevailing at the moment. He takes petty glee in this. It's just too perfect.

As such, Solas laughs as he watches the video. Like a shadow, irony is ever present at the heels of his people. For all their pride, there always comes a fall.

Once he's done laughing he clicks his watch on. The lingering warmth of his laughter can still be heard in his voice. (He chooses voice call precisely so that she can hear it.)]

Come now, Iramaat. Consider. Nothing is more elven than transfiguration.

<3 <3 <3

[wylderrant]

[ To be fair, IRamaat did this for the attention.

It just hasn't all been as positive as she would have liked. She brightens a little - or at least her voice seems to - when she hears his voice. Even if he is laughing at her. ]

Oh, you're probably right, but I usually prefer to be the one choosing what gets transfigured. On the rare occasion that I've actually... changed things.

[veilfires]

[The warmth in his voice fade into something kinder and merely affable.]

True enough. It is disturbing to have one's will overridden when one comes from a world where will makes reality. [Certainly it's unnerving for all the newcomers, but especially for the pair of them: they must acclimitise not only in a new world but a new material world.]

Did your people only rarely manifest new forms?

[wylderrant]

Oh, some of us did. Some of us changed shape and faces nearly on the hour, if they felt like it. I wasn't one of those, though...

[ She sounds a bit wistful. ]

I like my face, my form, my shape. It's comfortable. It's who I am - and to know who you are, to have your name held so dear and close is wonderful, isn't it?

[veilfires]

[He understands. His own forms are deliberately chosen, and all are well-worn – they’re both the mask he wears to the world and who he is. The sum of history and purpose rather than whim. Her wistfulness is echoed back.]

Yes. It’s with such constancy – knowing who you are – that a being of change can hope to be known by others as well.

[wylderrant]

Yes. And by our names and by our words. One must never tell a lie, you know. Simply cannot be done - or shouldn't, rather. And one should keep their word - because if you can change your face, your word at least must be immutable.

[ At least... not overt lies. ]

[veilfires]

[Sheltered from sight, curiosity and comprehension free to dance across his features. That’s where they’ll stay for now, though – in the dark of his little assigned cottage.

Still – how literally should he interpret never tell a lie? Does this rule Iramaat follow extend to all her people, or only some? His own people do not speak to each other without layers upon layers of falsehood and illusions. A hundred masks for a hundred betrayals. In Arlathan, deceit went beyond lies as art and politics to being the centre of a false religion, a deeply rooted tree at the heart of their world.

The old instincts come into play, where Iramaat’s involved – he knows not to show his hand. He knows much, as well, of how far you can take a lie without lying.]

One's word is as mutable as the words that form them. Speech, skillfully spoken, can cast more shadows than any shifting shape.

[wylderrant]

[ The truth, of course, is more complicated than Iramaat presents. To have people think she means what she says, to take her words at purely face value - that is valuable, because much like his people, she and her people lie by omission. They lie without lying. They twist and bend words until they are about to break. It is what they do, even with each other. Iramaat, most famously, has done it to one of her old flames, simply because she wanted a villain for her personal story.

They are cruel, deceptive, and obsessed with their own images. Not too distant from Solas' people, in some respects. ]

My dear Solas, you don't mean to imply anything do you?

[ She knows what he's saying and he wants him to know that she knows. ]

Words are powerful tools, yes. We must use them... wisely.

[veilfires]

[Frankly, he admires a deftly placed word. He has a thrill of excitement, of a worthy challenge, when he recognises when he’s been outplayed, as perhaps Iramaat has been outplaying him before now. Touché.]

Tools that take different forms in different hands. A knight might use them as a sword.

[This all serves to underline the cleverness of her words on another occasion, words that played fairy rings around the children and himself. He’d been confused about what they meant, but no longer. Knight and spirit of chivalry though she may be, there are parts of her twisted from that purpose. He’ll not take her for an ingenue again – and he’ll remember what she’s said about the value of her people’s oaths. Therein lies advantage.]

[wylderrant]

[ Perhaps she's given too much away to him, but there's no fun in playing without a challenge. Sometimes there is, of course, fun in having it all your own way. But winning against real obstacles? That's the sweetest taste of victory. Even if she's likely to be very put out if (when) she loses. ]

I've been told words can cut, so I do believe you're right in that respect. And so much more effective at times, too! A sword can only draw blood. Words can alter perceptions, which is much more powerful, I think...

[veilfires]

Though the wounds cut by a sword are entirely real.

[Unlike words. He reclines in his wooden chair, quite comfortable.]

The perception of a thing alone will not change its true nature. No matter how buried in words the truth may be.

[wylderrant]

That depends on the object and the perception and who does the perceiving. And perhaps on where you are.