[D1, EN-MN] The Traveler Earns Her Keep (Homecoming Song)

[Illiam'iira]

Illiam's solemn as she disrobes. Her most precious possessions -- save two -- have been given to Quevlin'e for safekeeping. Folding her traveling clothes, she sets them down on the grass before laying her blanket over them. (Better safe than sorry, all things considering. It's alright if they get a little dirty.) Illiam'iira settles down in her little space. Gets comfortable. Her lap harp is soon pulled into her arms, and Illi starts to strum it, taking her time to check it's tuned after all it's been through the last day. Once she's satisfied she starts to warm up with the song she wished she'd heard before she left.

"Return to us with new treasures,
Strange songs and words unknown,
Having wandered the old world’s ruins
And embraced this new world as your own."

Her singing voice is charming and melodious, but there's something more lodged within, a strange echo that shouldn't be there. It embraces the heart. As she sings the Homecoming Song Illiam'iira's smile seeps into her voice. Standing, she begins to dance, slow and comfortable, stretching her body for the performance to come. Her shiny iridescent hair lengthens, providing the drow enough modesty to perhaps please a more prudish onlooker. (Wouldn't want to get in too much trouble for only wearing a necklace, after all!) There's a grace to her that usually isn't present -- Illiam's fully in the moment, fully in the song.

"Tread carefully, well-loved one,
Tread thoughtfully, well-loved one,
Tread fearlessly, well-loved one,
Return to us, return with us,
Be always coming home."

As she looks up to the moonless sky, silvery moths flutter from the trees to join her. She's never alone. Not here. Not anywhere. That gives her comfort. Maybe tonight she'll give someone else comfort, too.

Illi spends the next few hours singing and dancing and playing harp for the Park, at times solemn, at times playful, at times uproarious or even raunchy, but she's always, always, having a good time!

D1 Task: Performance: 1d20+8 26
Magic notes: Enthralling Performance (DC 17: Charms 4 people), Thaumaturgy x3 - divine voice + modesty illusion to hide them bitties + silver moths (will be redacted if custom Thaum isn't approved... gonna go poke Fless about it again... now!)

[Fyne]

Fyne is there as a performer and an observer. He has his dulcimer on a short stand, sitting on the ground next to it and playing. He watches and plays, but his instrument takes two hands and focus. He's not been able to do much other than visits to the temple and donations. The war doesn't really extend to Sigil in the same way. There were even elves that weren't aware of it, so it seemed like a background sound here. But it was nice to find others that understand and believe similar things. He claps for Illiam'iira's performances when she finishes each one through the night.

[Illiam'iira]

Illiam takes a break every so often, and during one, she plops down on her blanket to fan herself with her hand. She should have brought water. Singing hurts. Her throat aches, her lungs ache, and she's feeling a bit more tired than she should, which makes her wonder how thin the air is here. Most people don't seem bothered by it so one probably gets used to it, but... Illi doesn't want to get used to it.

She looks over at Fyne and just... watches him for a bit. Her head rests on her shoulder as she does, and the girl doesn't smile -- her expression is neutral, bordering on sleepy. It's like she's studying him. Or maybe she's studying his music?

[Fyne]

He moves to her side and offers a waterskin with a warm smile. "Feeling hoarse?"

[Illiam'iira]

"Feeling hoarse?"

"Yeah," She groans out, leaning over to take it. "You mind if I make this tea?"

[Fyne]

"Go for it. I don't have a pot or anything though to heat it," he replies. "So you've got something in you other than drow? At first I thought it might have been glitter but it doesn't seem that way."

[Illiam'iira]

"Go for it. I don't have a pot or anything though to heat it," he replies. "So you've got something in you other than drow? At first I thought it might have been glitter but it doesn't seem that way."

"I have my ways," She says in the silliest most conspiratorial voice she can muster before singing a little note and twirling her finger. The note turns to humming as she shakes the waterskin, and then Illi pops it open, sighing warmly as it steams, to take a big swig. That helps. That helps a lot. Her body relaxes and she falls over with a happy purr.

"You know, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to ask stuff like that," Illi says with a little smile in her voice. "But I don't mind. My grandmama got pregnant with my mama in the Feywild and stayed there until my mama was born. Made my mama a little weird. And, uhm, I'm, I'm my mother's daughter, I guess. My papa was human too but I'm still just a drow?" She frowns. She HATES thinking about that part. There were magical shenanigans she does not want to consider even a little bit. Oh papa, oh mama. Why were you so strange. She takes another sip of wizard tea before offering it to Fyne. "I mean, I don't really take a lot after my father."

(It is also important to note that each time she says the drow equivalent of mama and papa, it is in a very playful cadence. That's quickly lost though -- her voice grows solemn the more she speaks about her father.)

"You were born in the Underdark, right?"

[Fyne]

"I've never really been one to avoid asking questions. I am pretty curious by nature."

He accepts the tea and has a drink. He's not much of a tea drinker though, preferring wines and ciders, so he can't really identify the kind of tea.

"My mother was the daughter of the Matron of House Nasadra. So... she was unpleasant. My dad was killed ritually during the ceremony where I was conceived, I was told. So the first time I actually felt like I had family was when I started following the Dark Maiden. So, hopefully I don't take after my family."

[Illiam'iira]

"My mother was the daughter of the Matron of House Nasadra. So... she was unpleasant. My dad was killed ritually during the ceremony where I was conceived, I was told. So the first time I actually felt like I had family was when I started following the Dark Maiden. So, hopefully I don't take after my family."

The 'tea' is floral and sweet, though the liquid looks just like the plain water he put into his waterskin.

Illi listens to him quietly, briefly running a hand over her heart before clutching her brooch. "Blood doesn't make someone family. It's connections. And you chose who you're connected to." Her eyes close. "My grandparents never talk much about the Underdark. Pawpaw's House fell and he escaped in the mayhem of it. Grandmama told me she was a slave, once, when I asked her. My father's parents died when he was young and he was a slave too, for awhile." Her knuckles have gone white with the tightness of her grip. "I'm really lucky." The way she says it, it sounds like she's trying to be convincing. "Quev doesn't talk much, period, but he mostly just... doesn't care about what happened. Or he acts like he doesn't. It... hurts, knowing how... how bad things are... down there..." Her voice cracks a bit as emotions overflow. Illiam's skin begins to darken. Obsidian with a purple sheen. Her freckles becoming stars.

She whispers something to herself. The tension in her body releases and her color returns. Illi rings her brooch's bell, and as the cover disappears, she stares at her reflection in its hidden mirror.

"Why are you here in Sigil?"

[Fyne]

"Blood makes them family enough to consider me a traitor and want me dead. It also doesn't help that I used to be on board with the whole system."

He sighs softly.

" Unlike your grandfather I was not a victim of oppression. I was the oppressor. For a lot of years I was one of the types I'd fight against. Privileged and powerful, using my appearance to infiltrate surface communities and help kidnap or kill. It took time and deprogramming to awaken my conscience and start fighting against that system. And I thank Eilistraee every day for making that happen. I could tell you about the underdark, but it's from either the perspective of a cruel bastard or something constantly fighting."

Lirrax pops out of his nearby bag and trills a bit before flying off into the bushes excitedly.

"I'm in Sigil for unrelated reasons, but at the same time I'm not completely sure why. My patron just said I needed to be here. My warlock patron."