View source for 2017-07-18: Gulliver's Not A Unicorn Actually But He's Still Great

*'''Log: Gulliver's Not A Unicorn Actually But He's Still Great'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Gwen Whitlock]], [[Character :: Avril Vent Fleur]]
*'''Where:''' Silver Coast
*'''Date:''' July 18th 2017
*'''Summary''': ''Gwen, out by herself, ends up encountering Avril. Avril meets Gwen's horse.''

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 <Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

The noise and bustle of the city can be like a drug for those seeking excitement and the possibilities of fame, money, adventure, or a little bit of each. The tournament held at Lacour has a lot to offer for all, but there's one thing it cannot supply easily.

And that is a quiet place to escape from the afternoon heat. Or what people perceive as a quiet place. The wilderness comes with its own noises; a truly quiet space is a space either devoid of life, or one where it's best for a visitor to keep aware of their surroundings.

In this specific space, the main source of noise is as a small waterfall, flowing from a large boulder a several meters high. Moss, ferns, and small plants cling to the surfaces of the rounded rocks below, fed steadily from a constant stream of condensation or mist billowing out from the falling stream. The incline into the pool and resulting stream is unsteady, but hardly unnavigable on foot. It's not that deep, either; reaching about to an average person's waist.

It's a nice landmark, used by Drifters who have managed to stumble across it from time to time. One such Drifter is Gwen, rolling up the ends of her jeans and leaving her boots and accessories behind to take a dip in the cool waters. Gulliver is nearby, dipping his black noise into the water to take a long, refreshing drink. The cart is parked nearby, well within Gwen's line of sight, should anyone get near.

Flicking a few sprays of water at the dutiful horse, Gwen is rewarded with a wet nose to her forehead, Gulliver dispensing his justice through affection.

 <Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.

	There are places in Filgaia where a location like this would be a true rare treasure: green plantlife, clean running water, and abundant animals thriving (to judge by the ambient noise at least). Even here, it's a gem in the rough, as increasingly pieces of the world appear to falter and give under the spreading desolation.

	And yet the day when this place will succumb is still far off.

	''Both of you, please go on ahead. I won't be long behind you.''

	It had been no more than a whim as they'd come past here, perhaps only about twenty, thirty minutes before Gwen. But never the less, Avril had parted from her friends, a brief flickering of... something bidding her off the path south. They had hesitated, naturally, had asked if they should come along too, but...

	In the end, Avril has walked up the length of this small barely-a-stream alone, the sound of the distant waterfall bidding her onwards. There was...

	Ah, and it's gone again.

	Not gone: the young woman before her, splashing about in the water.

	The young woman with the mechanical arm.

	Avril stops there, not unlike some pale ghost just emerged from the forest and tilts her head as she watches in silence.

	AND THEN:

	"Am I interrupting?"

 <Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

It's definitely a mechanical arm that Avril sights; its surface catches on the few rays of light that shine down through the waning canopy overhead in the same manner as brushed metal, and the specifically shaped plates that make up the visible outer layers slide like an efficient machine with little to show in the way of wear. It's just that device is currently being used to, instead of some complex maneuver, instead splash a horse. Also, it's taking on the water with no real slow down in performance.

To be fair, the horse could have been very hot, but the arm's owner seems more intent on playing with the animal, which the horse responds with in kind with open affection, gently sniffing through Gwen's hair. "Gentle, gentle," Gwen guides, with a laugh. "Too bad the incline's so steep; you'd have a ball, Gulliv-"

'Am I interrupting?'

Gwen turns in the direction of the voice, water splashing as she panicks. It's crucial, when out on your own, to always be aware of your surroundings. If you are able to get to a place, someone else certainly can do the same. This is even more importance when there's a metal arm involved.

Gwen just, occasionally, forgets herself.

So that's why she stands there, ARM positioned behind her as if she was a guilty child hiding a broken cookie jar. "Uh- ah..."

This person seems... nice enough. Maybe.

"Hi!"

Gwen raises her left hand and waves, water dripping from her sodden sleeve. "I, er, didn't notice you there!"

 <Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.

	A metal arm is very hard to miss, indeed.

	A metal arm... hadn't Greg been searching for someone with a... no, hadn't he said a 'golem's arm'? Slightly, Avril's forehead crinkles, the faintest traces of a frown on her lips. ...Is that what a 'golem's arm' would be like...?

	All the while Gwen, unaware for now of the silver-haired woman's presence, plays with her horse.

	At least right up until Avril, observation alone meeting its limits, speaks up.

	Gwen understandably has a minor freakout.

	Avril... just stands there, silent once again, close to the shoreline. Blue eyes remain leveled on Gwen.

	And then:

	"Is that a golem's arm?"

	No 'hello'. No 'how are you'. No 'sorry to intrude'.

	...Yeah.

 <Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

While the arm seems to be in proportion to Gwen's body, it's not as if Greg would have necessarily clarified. It's definitely unusual, a factor that Gwen is well aware of due to how she's currently trying to hide it.

Standing waist deep in the pool of flowing water, Gwen's own blue-grey eyes settle nervously on Avril's own, unsure of what to make of the mysterious woman. She's calm, almost otherworldly, much unlike the playing Gwen.

Gulliver, meanwhile, seems content to use this time to amble from his position nearby Gwen, his hooves crunching on the pebbles underneath as he makes his way over to Avril, his tail flicking with curiosity.

His actions seem to make Gwen relax. "Um, don't let him boss you around. He's just seeing if you have any treats on you."

Maybe she's a Seraph? Gwen's seen some Seraphs that looked akin to this young woman, all pretty and ethereal. Without another person to react, Gwen has no way of testing this out. She instead hauls herself out of the pool, wringing her blouse carefully and arranging the collar so that it, at least, somewhat covers over the scarring on her lower neck, still trying to angle her right arm away from the watching gaze of the blue-eyed woman.

At least, that's what Gwen was doing, just before Avril asks her question. Gwen stops in mid-motion, her chest taking in a breath at the acknowledgment of her arm's appearance. "Not that I know of," she manages to say with a self-depricating laugh. "It's... a fake arm. I'd think a golem's arm'd be a lot bigger, wouldn't it? Not somethin' like this." She waves her right arm in front of her as a demonstration, then her left. "But I'm human, see? Just the arm that's metal. So no worries! No golems here. Just me, and my horse Gulliver."

Gulliver, now at Avril's side, looks up at the mention of his name, then to Avril, his deep dark eyes peering at her with an equine gentleness.

 <Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.

	To be clear, Avril doesn't in any way think that Gwen is the person Greg was after -- he had said 'man', and Gwen doesn't appear to meet that qualification.

	Besides which, she just has this feeling it's not the girl standing in a pool of water, bashfully attempting to hide said arm behind her back. Somehow, she just feels that way.

	But that doesn't mean she can't wonder after it, and bluntly ask after it.

	"Oh--"

	Gulliver's approach is the first thing to prompt a reaction from the mysterious woman outside of 'neutral interest' and 'vague confusion'. Her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a step back. "He is rather big..." Avril murmurs, like someone who hasn't met a horse up close and personal, or at least doesn't quite know what to do around one. She spreads out her hands, though. "I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she explains to the horse, quite seriously.

	"Hmm..."

	Again, Avril tilts her head to one side, as if inquiring after something silently. Faintly, she frowns again. "...A fake arm... a prosthesis?" She blinks once, in mild surprise. "...Perhaps so. The only golems I have seen have been quite large, so you may be correct. However, I cannot eliminate the possibility of something smaller entirely..." But she shakes her head, as if letting the theorizing depart for now.

	And then, she glances over at the horse. "Ah. Gulliver?" If she hesitates, it's only for a fraction of a second, before she reaches over to pat the large horse on the nose as if she does this all the time. "It's good to meet you, Gulliver," she says, so solemly that it almost might seem a touch playful.

 <Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

The way the pale-haired woman reacts, it's as if she's never dealt with a horse- a rare sort, in this day and age. Though with those clothes, maybe she's the type to have only dealt with them distantly, while kept safe inside a carriage? Either way, witnessing Avril's apprehension, Gwen feels the need to intervene, just in case Gulliver's nose gets him into trouble.

Again.

'I'm afraid I have nothing for you.'

These are words that have meaning, said to convey information. Gulliver's horsey brain hears the words and hears Avril's tone. His brain cannot perceive the existence of such a horrible state: to be without Treats is Suffering. Clearly, he needs to try Harder. His long lashes flutter, and his head bows, as if in offering.

Here is Head. Please Pet Head, Gulliver likes the Petting of Heads.

Gwen takes a moment to push herself to a standing position, the toes of her feet catching on a few stray rounded pebbles as she stops by the cart, then makes her way to Gulliver's side. "It's okay. He wouldn't hurt a fly, promise," Gwen assures, her right hand gently stroking Gulliver's long nose. "I'd reckon I'd be in a lot of trouble if I had a golem's arm," she jokes, turning her gaze to Avril with a wide grin. "Here."

She reaches out to Avril with her left hand, producing... an apple. "If you wanna try to feed him. Y'don't have to, of course."

 <Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.

	It's a fair assessment to make. Avril looks a bit... delicate, to put a word to the overriding sense championing the day here. She certainly doesn't look as if she's accustomed to manual labor, or that she's ever ridden horseback.

	Still, it might just be 'delicate' in the same way that ice is 'delicate' -- in the right situations, 'delicate' ice can be a danger.

	And then naturally Gulliver has to put his big horsey head right in the middle of the situation here.

	But far from affronted -- despite how she might appear -- Avril seems almost...

	Enchanted, by the situation.

	She continues to carefully pat Gulliver on the nose as Gwen approaches.

	"I feel that I can trust him," she says, glancing over at Gwen with a faint smile on her lips. "He seems like a kind horse." Briefly, that smile of hers brightens a touch, before settling out once more. "I suppose so. It might be difficult to use..."

	And then Gwen produces... an apple.

	Avril hesitates, but once again, only briefly. She takes the apple from the younger girl and quite formally presents it to the horse. With both hands. "Here..."

 <Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

There's a certain delicate nature to the mysterious woman, but like a thorns on a spiraling vining plant, there's a sharp edge to it, an elegance that Gwen can't quite define just yet.

She's clearly a Seraph. Seraphs can be like that, right? Ragnell may not quite be there, but the others she's met, like Mikleo, had a degree of it.

Avril relents, and Gulliver takes it in, like a unicorn bowing before the grace of a maiden, dipping his nose into Avril's accepting hands and gently nickering at the presence of NEW PERSON. That's what unicorns do, right? Nicker, breathe, flutter their eyelashes, make horsey noises, all that stuff. Yes. Gulliver could very will just be a stocky unicorn that is missing his horn, as well as whatever supernatural intelligence unicorns were supposed to possess.

So, a unicorn.

What does that make Gwen? "Well, I wouldn't go that far. His stomach can make him stick his nose into a lotta places it shouldn't be. But." Gwen's gaze softens as she watches Avril interact with Gulliver. "I always trust his judgment on people. Mostly." His attentions can be bought, but never for long.

The apple is passed to Avril, and Gulliver's eyes seem to spark with delight, his head dipping down once again to delicately wrap his mouth and teeth around the delicious fruit. ""If his teeth nick you, lemme know. He can get kinda enthusiastic, but you seem to be a natural at this! Gulliver isn't the smartest horse, but he thinks with his heart, so when it comes to that sorta stuff, he'll know you mean well."

 <Pose Tracker> Avril Vent Fleur has posed.

	Not to mention Gulliver's hot, horsey breath.

	Unlike a unicorn, he's undeniably warm and alive.

	In silence as she pats the nice horse on the nose, Avril only nods at first. Then:

	"Oh, I see. That reminds me of someone..." Her hand pauses, resting there. "...I even feel the same way about his judgement. There is a saying, is there not, about trusting one's gut..."

	That's not at all what Gwen was getting at, but perhaps it's best not to correct it.

	For all that this is -- to judge by her initial wariness upon meeting Gwen's horse -- her first time even being around a horse, Avril is -- yes, just as Gwen observes -- a natural at feeding Gulliver. Not even the fabric of her gloves gets a nip or a nick as the horse chomps away at the apple.

	And once again, that slight smile of hers manages to brighten a touch more, her lips even parting briefly to reveal her teeth.

	Softly, Avril giggles. "You're hungry, I see..."

	Thinking with your heart...

	She releases her hold on the apple, allowing Gulliver to do with it as he pleases, and takes a step back. "Thank you," she says to Gwen, ducking her head as in a shallow bow. "I enjoyed doing that. I--"

	"AVRIL--!"

	That's a boy's voice, by the sound of it. Briefly, Avril's eyes widen, and she touches a hand to her lips. "Oh-- Did I worry them? I was gone longer than I had planned, I think," she murmurs, more to herself than Gwen.

	"...I'm sorry, those are my friends. Ah," and here Avril pauses before turning around, taking a breath and then calling out, "Dean! Rebecca! I'm over here!"

	Judging by the sound of footsteps -- and trampled underbrush -- they'll be along soon.

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Chapter 1]]
[[Category:Chapter 1, Act 1]]