silent, in the trees [open]

[necrocabbage]

Characters: Trahearne, open to everyone
Date: Early February
Location: In and around the Dreaming Bridge
Situation: There's a quiet plant guy lurking around. That might be a little weird.
Warnings/Rating: Nothing yet


A. During the day - outside the Dreaming Bridge
When he's not busy with other matters, Trahearne has been spending some time right outside the Dreaming Bridge building. He mostly walks around the outside of the Quayside wing, though sometimes he makes a circle around the Breakwater wing as well, to cover all his bases.

What exactly he's doing out there might not be immediately obvious. When he's not just walking around, examining the dirt and peering under bushes like he's looking for something, he's been leaving little pieces of jerky in specific, tucked-away places. Trahearne later returns to check to see if the jerky is gone, but even when it's disappeared, he seems to keep walking away with nothing to show for the endeavor.

Whatever kind of animal Trahearne is trying to lure out hasn't yet revealed itself, but he's certainly patient enough to continue trying.



B. At night - in the Dreaming Bridge lounge/lobby
Trahearne hasn't been sleeping well. Tossing and turning is one thing, but after the first night when he kept waking from terrible nightmares, he decided that persisting in a useless endeavor would only end in disturbing his roommates. The idea of having to explain what he was seeing in his dreams to two complete strangers wasn't just unappealing, he knew that it wouldn't help matters any. He'd still have trouble sleeping, and he'd still wake them with it, whether they knew what was happening or not.

Instead, he's taken to slipping out of his room after the others are asleep, taking with him a small pile of books on the Planes that he's obtained from one of the local libraries. Trahearne then curls up in one of the more comfortable chairs in the public lounge, reading by the light of a lamp, up until he dozes off or simply can't see straight anymore. Whether he's found awake or asleep, he's always gone before sunrise, either to get breakfast or to return to his room to prepare for another day.

Comments

[necrocabbage]

[Trahearne was snoozing soundly enough that he didn't wake until they spoke to him, at which point he jolts upright in his chair, blinking blearily when he sees the sparkling of the lamp's light reflecting in their hair. For a moment, he nearly mistakes them for a particularly flashy mesmeric illusion.]

I- my apologies. It seems this book wasn't as exciting as I thought it would be.

[That might've been a joke. Everything in his stack of books is either about the Planes in a general sense or an individual one specifically, which made for quite a lot of dry reading material.]

[corundrum]

[Padparadscha laughs softly, picking up one of the books and starting to leaf through it. It certainly does seem like the kind of thing that would get dry after a while, though useful nonetheless.] Ah, I couldn't imagine why. It's almost like learning things makes for a lot of studious focus, huh?

[They glance over the top of the book to the rest of the pile, then over to him.] Does your species take in information differently, or am I right in thinking this seems like a lot for just one night?

[necrocabbage]

No, you're correct about that. It will take me a while to go through all of these.

[He's staring at them a little, though he's trying hard not to, well aware that it was rude. Finally, he just can't stop himself from asking the question that's on the tip of his tongue,]

Are you mineral-based? Pardon me for asking, but - your appearance is quite unique.

[corundrum]

Well well, you're observant. It takes humans a lot longer to notice, usually. [Padparadscha closes the book carefully and sets it back down on the pile. Their fingernails, too, glitter like gems.]

I'm a gem, yes. And I suppose you're plant-based looking like that, right? [It seems like the logical assumption to make, and they gesture towards his face to make the point..]

[necrocabbage]

That's quite descriptive... but yes, I am. My people are called sylvari.

[Trahearne offers them a small smile. He was gawked at often enough himself after leaving the Grove for the first time, and knows how off-putting that can be at times. He doesn't want to subject them to the same treatment.]

I have seen something a little similar before. The dwarves of my world turned themselves to stone, but that was through magic, no natural occurrence. As you can imagine, the dwarf I met looked rather lackluster in comparison.

[corundrum]

Ah, another new one, then. [Padparadscha's learning about quite a lot of new species here, but they don't want to put anyone under the microscope either even if they find it interesting. They have more than enough life experience to know that being scrutinised doesn't sit well with anyone.

His comment on the dwarves gets an interested hum, though.] Oh? I've heard a few people talk about other stone-based species from their world, but that's a new one as well. It's nice to know there are others in the worlds, huh?

[necrocabbage]

[That gets a small, wistful smile from him,] It does sound rather nice. I haven't yet been told about anyone similar to sylvari existing. I have to wonder if I would like to know of it in the first place. That my people came to be at all was something of a happy coincidence.

[Then he briefly pauses before adding,] My apologies, I didn't introduce myself. My name is Trahearne.

[corundrum]

That's a shame. I heard a little one saying that all the life from their world came from trees, though, so maybe they have something similar. It can't hurt to learn.

[That's most of what Padparadscha's been doing since they got here. Not interceding in much directly, or making too much of a splash, but listening, learning, and deciding what their place is in this new world.]

I think we all have more important things on our minds than that, huh? Everyone forgets. But I'm Padparadscha.

[necrocabbage]

[He answers with a nod,] It is good to meet you. I do think you're right. Coming here has been... a rather overwhelming experience. There's such a wealth of new information here that it's hard to feel that I'll ever be able to scratch the surface of what this world has to offer.

And you have my thanks as well, for that information. Perhaps there is some resemblance to the Pale Tree in the trees of their world. If only I could tell her, I think she'd be very happy to hear about it.

[corundrum]

Oh, so I'm not the only one who's had that thought. [Padparadscha laughs, despite the seeming pessimism of the thought. In 3700 years, they've never had this much to learn, and now they wonder if they could take it all in even given another 3700 years.

His talk about the Pale Tree makes it sound like a person, though, which gets a curious sound from Padparadscha.] Well well, that one sounds interesting. Is that "Pale Tree" someone from your world?

[necrocabbage]

Oh, yes. The Pale Tree is quite an important person.

[Trahearne settles back into his chair, getting comfortable before launching into as short an explanation as he can manage.]

The Pale Tree is the mother of all sylvari. We were born from her in pods lowered from her branches. But make no mistake, though she can't move around like we can, she's no less intelligent than us. We speak to Mother through a projection she makes using the power of the Dream.

[Then, he briefly pauses, looking a bit unsettled.] ... When I last saw her, she had fallen into a coma. I can only hope that her recovery will be swift.

[corundrum]

[This certainly sounds a lot like that other person Padparadscha met who described how things came to be in their world, and they seem interested in the explanation regardless of its simplicity.

That last thing hits a little close, but because of it, Padparadscha can maintain a light smile.] I think it would be fine. That kind of thing just takes a little time and work.

[For Padparadscha's people, at least. Others might be different, but that doesn't feel like something to be honest about right now.]

She sounds like an interesting person, anyway. And she must be quite an old one, to be the mother of all of you.

[necrocabbage]

I do hope you're right. Our best menders are seeing to her, so - now that the threat has passed, Mother will have time to heal.

[It's a bit of a somber topic, so Trahearne is happy to move on to their other question.]

You might be surprised. The Pale Tree is well over two hundred years old, but us sylvari are quite new to Tyria. I am the oldest of the Firstborn, and I have only seen twenty-six summers.

[More accurately, he was the oldest before he died, but that thought honestly hadn't crossed his mind yet.]

[corundrum]

[Padparadscha hums faintly in agreement, letting him slip away from the subject easily. It's not the kind of thing they find most people agreeable to talk about, even people without finite existences.

And Padparadscha certainly is surprised at that, because to them an age like that is positively tiny.] Oh? Two hundred is much more of a little one than I expected someone like her to be. But then, even something like that has to start somewhere. We were all that little once.

[Or at least, all of their kind were. Even their youngest, Phos, has well cleared that age by this point.]

[necrocabbage]

[The longer Trahearne listens to them, the more he seems to be at a loss. They really thought two centuries was nothing?]

I always saw it as quite a long time to exist. It's well over twice a human lifespan... [Trahearne even sounds a touch embarrassed now. It was funny how something so simple could make him feel like a sapling again.]

How long do Gems live, then?

[corundrum]

Ah, well, I've heard humans only live a tiny amount of time. [Padparadscha's been doing what reading they can on the species here since they arrived. They'd always suspected humans were like other living things, with their fleeting existences, and now they know it for sure.

Padparadscha considers before answering that question - they've let it slip before, and they don't seem to be the only person here beyond what's considered a "normal" age, so it shouldn't be a harmful thing to say.]

Gems don't "die" like living things do. We can be destroyed utterly, but if we're pieced back together, we live again. So there's no limit to how old we can be.

[necrocabbage]

Incredible, [Trahearne murmurs, regarding them with renewed awe.] You must have seen and done so much - do you have any idea how excited a historian would be to meet you?

[Why, he's almost starting to get excited himself, and it wouldn't even be relevant to his own studies.]

[corundrum]

[Padparadscha laughs softly, leaning back a little with an almost apologetic look.] I'm afraid I've done less than many gems despite being one of the oldest. Sometimes, not even being made equal can help us.

[One of their hands drifts to their open shirt, and the gem-plugged holes plaguing their torso, a delicate finger running across the surface.]

[necrocabbage]

[Trahearne's gaze follows the movement, making him frown faintly now that he's paying more attention to those markings. That's what he had assumed it was, but now Padparadscha seemed to be implying that those were something a little more damaging. Old wounds, perhaps?]

One of the tenets my people follow says that 'harder ground makes for stronger roots'. Our struggles make us stronger, but it also means that what you achieve is all the more precious for it.

[corundrum]

[Padparadscha hums a little at that, as if considering it. It's a little hard to believe for someone like them, but then, it sounds like something important to his people, so they'd rather not reject it entirely.]

Different things grow differently, huh? I think there are struggles that do and struggles that don't, but I can see why your people would hold something like that to be important.

[necrocabbage]

Every single person grows differently. I would argue that the strength of one's soul isn't so easily measured.

[Trahearne gives them a small smile,] It's more like a guideline, in any case. Forgive me for going on a tangent.

[corundrum]

Ah, well, there aren't many things about life that can be put so simply as in one phrase.

[Padparadscha puts that in a somewhat musing tone before moving on, their bearing remaining just a little amused.] Sometimes the best conversation comes of going on tangents. Staying in line all the time is a little boring.