Wedding Torcs 1

Mellia — Torcs 1

????, Earth Season, Season/Fertility Week


1626 Earth Season/Fertility Week/Godsday/mid-morning in Varanis’ room. [[[s02:session-9|Session 9]]]


Late morning Godsday of Fertility Week, there’s a knock on Varanis’ door.

Marta answers the door. “Yes?”

Mellia and Venlar are out there, dressed for the day. “Is Lady Varanis in to callers yet?”

Venlar has Mellia’s hand captured in hers, or else she has his in case he falls over.

“Lady Varanis will always welcome you at her door, White Lady,” the servant says firmly, stepping back to invite the two lovers in.
Varanis is sitting at her table, scowling fiercely at a small piece of metal in her hands, her tools arrayed before her.

Venlar bows, an Orlanthi formal greeting coming easily to him; his poetry hangs on the air for a moment as he blesses the room and his host.

Mellia smiles brightly. “Thank you,” she says to Marta. Mellia enters the room. When she sees Varanis scowling at her jewelry work, Mellia says, “Good morning, cousin. May we speak to you for a bit?”

The Vingan doesn’t seem to notice at first, still glaring at the small object she is holding. When Mellia and Venlar speak, she tears herself away to blink at them, as though it has taken her a while to refocus herself.
She sets the object down on the table and rises, welcoming them. “Of course,” she says as she closes the distance between them to place a kiss first on Mellia’s cheek, then on Venlar’s. “Would you like some wine?”

Mellia bestows a kiss on Varanis’ cheek in turn. “Thank you, wine would be lovely.”

“Indeed. Bettered only by the company.” Venlar gives Varanis a smile and Mellia a doting look.

Mellia gives Venlar a melting look. “We’ve had an idea for our wedding torcs.”

Varanis nods at Marta who delivers two cups of wine. The servant offers one to Varanis but she waves it away and instead collects a cup of something dark from the table where she’d been working. She sits down and looks at Mellia, waiting for the healer to continue.

Venlar looks up at Varanis. “We think it would be wonderful if you made them. Did Mellia ask already?”

“No, I didn’t,” Mellia admits. “I was going to tell you what we dreamed up first, Varanis.”

Varanis looks intrigued. “Tell me more,” she suggests. She takes a sip from her cup and wrinkles her nose at it.

“They’d be matched,” Venlar says. “But we know nothing about… well.” He quietens down to let Mellia tell.

((That expression on her face when she’s drinking reminds you of when you’ve fed her herbal concoctions she didn’t like much. Whatever she’s drinking, it’s not for pleasure.))

“We were thinking bronze for the main metal, with either gold or silver inlay. We haven’t worked out the inlay design. Then we were going to have our runes done in seed pearls at the ends.”

Varanis blinks at Mellia. “That’s a bit… ambitious, love,” she says gently.

“Then could you help us design them?” Venlar suggests.

Varanis looks relieved. “Yes, that I can do.”

Mellia looks relieved when Varanis says she can do the design work.

Venlar, carefully seated on a chair that can do no harm if he falls out of it, sips at his wine. “We know nothing about the prices of pearls, either,” he notes.

She considers for a moment. “It’s best to do the torcs in a single metal for durability. That said, I could twist strands of bronze with strands of silver to good effect. Pearls will never do. I take it you want white because of Chalana Arroy?”

Mellia nods. “Chalana Arroy and Air.”

“Orange, if we’re really strict about it,” Venlar says, “But white is a lesser association, and the colour of peaceful clouds, so it works too.”

“What about amber then?”

“Amber is lovely,” Mellia observes.

“It would make good Harp-string Runes,” Venlar observes. “But it would have to be engraved for air. And does it come in white?”

“I can carve amber if I’m careful. I can’t do that with pearls. So, I could carve air runes into it. But no, I haven’t seen white amber. I might be able to carve opals…”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Mellia exclaims. “Aren’t opals fragile, though?”

“But I’d have to be able to get some. They are hard to find. Not too fragile for what we are doing. Pearls are worse.”

“I don’t know who will pay for them,” Venlar admits. “In Sartar I would buy hers and she would buy mine, or at least, commission them. If that could cause trouble, we should make sure we find out.”

“I honestly have no idea,”Mellia says, “who pays for which torc here.”

“Or I can just give them as wedding gifts to you,” Varanis suggests, taking another sip from her cup. She glares at the cup a moment then sets it to one side.

“You would have to arrange that with the Clans, but I would be honoured.” Venlar’s wine suits him more than the drink Varanis has suits her. He looks pleased to be drinking it.

“That would be wonderful!” Mellia’s bright mood darkens just a tiny bit as she adds, “I’m beginning to wonder why we haven’t heard anything from several people in Sartar.”

“Oh? Are you waiting on anyone other than Blue Tree?” Varanis asks.

“No, but I was expecting angry letters from Queen Leika of Colymar, or a note from Tennebris by now,” answers Mellia.

“Anything in the North will be cut off,” Venlar says, “And the Festival will probably mean messengers are held up, if they have any part of it. The Queen has no reason to write, if she wishes to mend anything she has done. Tennebris, I cannot speak of.”

Varanis laughs. “Mellia, Leika won’t write. If she decides to kill me, there will be no warning. And if she decides to let me live, she won’t say anything about it at all.”

“I was thinking something not quite as bad as assassination,” Mellia admits, “but you are correct.”

“Those who are literate are often loath to put down words,” Venlar says. “They have a tricky habit of staying down on parchment, inconveniently.”

Mellia just says, “Hmm.”

“Talk of marriage, not of anger?” he suggests.

“You are wise, my love, ” agrees Mellia. “My robe from the heroquest hasn’t arrived yet either. I was going to have the woman who made it and gave it to me make my wedding gown. I may need to make other arrangements at this rate.”

“That might well be held up by the festival, if a woman was delivering it too.” Venlar gives Mellia a smile with soft eyes. “I would marry you in any clothes, with a single twist of wire for a torc.”

Mellia gives Venlar a melting look. The two of them say farewell and go for a walk.