After finally finishing the Flashpoint Living Story episode last night, I noticed that the glittering wings backpack skin was on sale. I had to have it, because look! It looks so good on Toloma!
The exchange rate for those gems was terrible, but it was worth it, because look!
And another bit of this character study. It’s amazing how many people can orbit one another in just one night.
Previously:
Buds 1 & 2
Capernoited
Burdens of Command
No warnings unless references to a couple of cuddly guys bothers you.
There were fewer dancing now, the music becoming less cheerful and more introspective as the night drew on and the musicians found their audiences lagging. One creative sprout had decided the night absolutely needed to hear her new composition involving Asuran atonal chording and the industrial rhythms of the Charr foundries, and it was almost as much this that Pyrif was wincing at as the scene before him as he knelt before Toloma, her bare foot in her massaging hands.
“I’m so sorry about your foot.”
In return she smiled, and managed a laugh despite the drawn look of pain on her face.
“It’s not your fault! It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. So many seem to prefer those heavy leather boots to feeling the air on their skin…” A look was directed at the heavy Norn style boots Pyrif himself was wearing, but it didn’t linger long enough to prompt anything more than the faintest of embarrassed glows from the flautist. “Vespertine just wasn’t watching where he was going.”
Near them a spike-headed Sylvari shrugged apologetically, his ornate clothes a distinctly Human style in silks and wool, as he whirled on by.
“That’s pretty standard.” The tenor voice was soft but musical, humming with some faint amusement as a grey barked hand reached out towards them, beckoning the pair over to its comfortable corner. “Come and sit over with us - you’ll be out of the way of his clumsy feet here.”
It was the pair of male Sylvari they had noted before, still snuggled in against one another, but now they had been joined by a woman wearing a thick lens apparatus who chatted with bright animation to the blue barked one of the pair.
Again the grey man beckoned, shifting closer to his partner to make room for them on their tuffet, and smiled in welcome as the Pyrif helped the limping Toloma to the right spot.
“Ugh,” The grey man lowered a knee and reached to prop the injured extremity upon it, tracing a gentle hand over the rapidly bruising skin. “Pepp, remind me to steal Vespertine’s boots at the next meeting, please?” he commented over his shoulder to his lover.
“Sure, Nutmeg.” came the reply, but there was a moment of silence as the blue tree rubbed his forehead, shaking his head in what may have been mirth or in exasperation before he returned his attention to the yellow woman.
It was always amazing to note, Pyrif reflected, just how in tune with one another the pair were. Nikyri - “Pepper” as his lifemate called him - had been deep in conversation with the woman Pyrif was trying very hard not to look at, but he was always aware of Gerain, and the opposite was always true. It must have been nice to share a Dream, he thought, that touch of sadness heavy in his chest once again as he took a careful seat next to the mushroom capped Toloma.
“Do you always go barefoot?” Gerain was asking now, lightly massaging the sore appendage as Toloma wriggled her pale blue toes at him.
“Do you always wear boots?” she countered.
“Yes - Pepper doesn’t like me hiding my throwing knives in my underleaves.” He laughed as he was jostled from behind by a loving elbow. “But seriously, I wear them when I’m out, but stay barefoot at home.”
Pyrif would have sworn he heard a soft, “And bare everything else,” but as neither Gerain nor his Pepp seemed to react, Pyrif didn’t either.
“Well, you’re not using elemental magic, and it works better for me to not be all tangled up. And I like the feel of dirt and air on my skin.” She winced as she flexed her toes a little too far. “Well, usually.” Retrieving her foot from the unresisting Gerain’s grasp and curling it into her lap, she began massaging the vines beneath the bruised flesh. “How’s Ranuncla?” Toloma nodded at the yellow flower chatting with Nikyri even as she looked towards the ceiling, distracting herself from the discomfort playing across her features.
“She’s fine.” Gerain chuckled. “I can only understand about half of what they’re talking about, though, so I’m glad you two came along.”
“You’re not that slow!” Another soft jostle came from behind, but this time Gerain replied with a gentle elbow of his own.
“You know Ranuncla, don’t you, Pyrif?” Toloma said, her voice lifting over the top of the imminent wrestling match, only properly looking at the birch when he began to glow.
“Oh, yes. Hello, Ranuncla!” The tone was just a shade too bright; he knew it even as the words were spilling from his mouth, but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t help it; she was one of the most interesting people he’d ever met, and the last time they had met in the Garden of Dusk things had not been optimal…
She gave no sign of having remembered, however; her own little wave and cheery smile as she turned those lens magnified eyes on him for a moment was just as friendly as ever.
“Hi, Py!”
Toloma looked quickly between the two, Ranuncla turning back to her conversation about flame throwers (why did you need those when there were elementalists who could do it without wasting the fuel?) or whatever it was the two engineers had been talking about and fixed her gaze on Pyrif, who was seemingly attempting to hide beneath his own long head branches.
“Pyrif,” she said, coming to a quick decision borne of instinct and her knowledge of fire. “I think it's time for me to call it an evening, and I’m not sure I’ll get to my bower without help.”
“Of course.” It was good to have something else to focus on, that much was evident in the speed with which he was on his feet and holding out his arms to her.
“I can help as well.” Gerain supported the woman from his sitting position as she got to her feet, but she waved him back down even as she bounced experimentally on the injured foot.
“No, Pyrif should be enough, thanks. You stay here and play with your beloved.” She smiled. “Have a good night, you three.”
“Good night.” Pyrif murmured as he wrapped his arm about Toloma’s waist, bowing so she might wrap her own about his shoulders, and slowly, carefully, they made their ways out into the night.
“They left fast,” Nikyri observed, leaving off his playful shoving to look in the direction the pair had gone. “Was everything alright?”
“Her foot was sore, that much was certain.” Gerain mused. “Pyrif wasn’t his usual self, though. I wonder…?”
“You think he might…?” The two men regarded each other, red eyes glimmering as they communicated beyond words, each knowing the other was thinking exactly the same - that Toloma and Pyrif might just be interested in one another. Together they grinned.
Toloma is one of my oldest GW2 characters, but something always bothered me a bit about her face. So I finally caved in and bought a makeover kit for her. I think I am much happier with her face being more open, and it even has little freckles at the corner of her eyes.
Given that her elected element on creation was “Air”, that Tempest’s Circlet on her shoulder works beautifully. I had to change her chestpiece in order for it to show up, though.
Well, for what it’s worth, here it is. I think that I’m tired of going over and over it, so now it’s time to back away, release it to the world, and come back later and edit it all over again.
One day there may be a part 2. It’s just a character study, after all.
No warnings, unless you have trouble with a couple of guys being cuddly.
It was a warm night in the Grove, and beneath the embracing branches of the Mother Tree the Sylvari were making the most of it. The ways were lit by firefly lamps and by the citizenry themselves, luminescence spilling from the foliage of both mother and children alike, and in a myriad of colours they celebrated the simple fact of life.
In the Dreamer’s Terrace, the gathering was still in full swing. There was a joy and an innocence about the young plant people as they moved amongst themselves, and gentle music filled the air for any who were inclined to dance.
On this night, a pale blue Sylvari, her form swathed in pink petals that flowed even as they conformed to the human notion of a gown, was thoughtful as she sat herself next to one of the musicians. With a gentle smile only partially obscured by the mushroom-like frill that comprised her hair, she listened, swaying slightly as the melody soared around them.
Three pieces later and the flute was set aside, its player frowning a little in polite confusion.
“Hello, Toloma.” His white bark glowed as he lowered his eyes. “You don't feel like dancing tonight?”
“Not really. I was happy just to listen.” Leaning forward she placed a hand on his leg. “But why is your music so sad lately?”
Startled he blinked, reaching toward the flute in a flurry of apology. “Oh, I'm so sorry! Would you like to hear Around Don Delly, or maybe The Norn and the Charr?”
“No, no!” She laughed, patting his knee. “It's ok. I was just wondering if you were alright, because you haven't seemed like yourself lately. That's all.”
“Oh.” For a time that was the only reply as he bowed his head, his branches rustling faintly as he regarded his hands.
“Is something wrong, Pyrif?” Now she was concerned, and Toloma scooted in a little closer as she tried to catch a glimpse of his face.
“No… not really.” A slight shrug set his branches aquiver as he glanced up, then away from her intent eyes. “I'm a bit embarrassed that it's showing in my musical choices.”
“What is it?” A sigh, and she couldn't help but notice his look of longing across the clearing. Two figures sat there all but intertwined, laughing and chattering with the gathering, but never quite moving out of each other's range. Blue leaves and grey twigs mingled where heads touched in easy familiarity, and love and contentment radiated from their corner of the world.
Toloma blinked.
“No!” she gasped, glancing from the pair back to Pyrif - who immediately began to glow in embarrassment as he realised where her reasoning had taken her.
“No!” he agreed. “I mean, not them, exactly. Gerain and Nikyri have been my friends since we were sprouts. It would be strange.”
“Then what?” Shuffling in a little closer still, she put a hand on his shoulder in comfort.
“It's…” Another sigh, before he ruefully chuckled. “It's hard to explain.” His inhalation of breath indicated he was willing to try despite the difficulty.
“Sometimes I feel like the Dream isn't enough.” he began, his gaze steady now as he regarded her, hoping she would understand beyond the nigh on blasphemy the words might indicate. “Or I wish I had someone special to share it with, like them.”
“But they shared their Dream before they emerged from their pods.” Toloma said dubiously, leaning back a little so she could study the whole picture.
“I know, and they're so lucky! They were born knowing who they loved. But me…?” He hummed sadly, shaking his head. “It's so confusing.”
“So you play sad songs and hide away in your corner while you try to work it out.” Satisfied with this thought, she settled back on her haunches, her hands resting in her lap. “Py, I don't think that’ll solve anything!”
“It makes me feel better.” His gaze turned back towards the flute lying in the nearby grass, and Toloma huffed and stood with the grace of a fern unfurling.
“Come on, let’s dance.”
Slowly he reached out to take her demanding hand, but chuckled, “I thought you didn't feel like dancing?” as he was pulled to his feet.
“Well, now I do!”
“Now there’s something you don't see every day.” The nectar had been flowing freely amongst the small group on the balcony, so some of the glowing eyes peering down to the floor below were a little unfocused. With a hiccuped chuckle to acknowledge her sudden attention, the short leaved woman continued, “Didn't know Duskers could dance at all.”
“I didn't know you could see them through that blindfold,” one of her companions snorted, a smirk twisting her sharp features.
“I can hear them! Can't you? So…” Words failed her for a moment and she gestured wildly. “...I don't know! Measured!”
“Toloma always dances.” Another companion, her pink face accented with thorns, rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and shifted in her seat. The faint clink of metal beneath her red leaves punctuated the words as she peered over the side without enthusiasm. “Nice to see Pyrif having fun for once. Now.” She raised her voice slightly, signifying a change of topic. “Who was coming with me to the practice field tomorrow?”
“I will!” The blindfolded woman turned (completely unnecessarily, if she was to be believed) away from the siding, her full and glaring attention now on the woman in red. “Thorns, Vyss, I'll go now if you're itching for a fight!” The smile was genuine, if a little reptilian across that wide mouthed visage. “I can take you on!”
“Tell me again why I hang around with Noons.” The smirker sighed, her voice laced with amusement even as the final one of the company - one who until now had been tinkering with some gadget or another - butted against her with a thin shoulder.
“Because we’re so much fun!”
“That has to be it,” came the sardonic agreement, but she grinned as she returned the shoulder buffet in kind. “What are you doing there, Rani?”
“Ranuncla.” The correction was almost automatic now. Huge dark eyes were magnified to an almost absurd degree by the lens apparatus perched on a near nonexistent nose as the small yellow flower looked up. “It's nothing much, just a watchwork piece I picked up in Divinity’s Reach. I thought I could develop it into a timer for watering a garden, so the farmers don't have to work so hard. The Humans in Queensdale have these huge watering towers in their fields, and…”
“...she’s off,” murmured the one identified as Vyss. “Apacea, why?”
“Better than watching you and Teudila slicing each other up on the practice field, isn't it?” The smirker whispered even as the buttercup girl continued blithely on.
“... perhaps there might be a wider application for such a thing here! So I…”
“I'm not really sure of that.” Vyss gingerly fingered the thorns along her nose to hide the words from the now utterly energised tinker.
“...with a wrench and a bit of time, I think it might be possible to even set something similar up near the Mabon Markets. The Soundless could use the farms, couldn't they?”
“There's a group even you couldn't hear dancing, Teud.” Apacea’s jibe hit home in the brief respite from the torrent, and that intense non-regard of the blindfold was turned on her.
“Do you know you smell?”
“Yes.” Apacea chirped, her thin hand brushing the gourds hanging from her belt. It was a well known downside to her chosen profession, and as such wasn't anything she’d take insult from. At least this time she hadn't brought one of her minions along - they just weren't the partying type. “Would you like to fight me about it?”
There was a pause as the group collectively held its breath, broken by a hearty and heartfelt guffaw. Teudila pounded the thinner (but spikier) Apacea’s shoulder as she laughed.
“Not now. Maybe later.” Though it was impossible to be sure, those present would have sworn later that Teudila winked.
“Does anyone want to hear about the innovations the Charr have brought to agriculture?” the tinker asked, brightly looking from one to the others, but as no one wanted to face the verbal flood again, no one answered.
“Practice tomorrow is going to be interesting, if nothing else.” Vyss muttered to herself as she took a bracing slug of her drink.
The Nightmare Court may be a pack of fear-loving weirdos, but they have a really pretty aesthetic. I’ve wanted Toloma to look like a pretty petal princess for so long, and now she does.
