An Exploration of the Aesir Northlands

Amarista

Deep oceans stare back at you. Both in size and emotions they threaten to swallow you whole for they are the basic communication tool for this young Mongrel. Her dark long mane drips about her shoulders like gentle ink droplets, giving shape to her sharp features. High cheekbones and a straight, perky nose complement the round and petite figure. Her skin is dark, tanned; its smoothness is evident and a reflection of her youth.

The same kind of ripeness can be made out in her slim form. Her figure would be slight were it not for the round breasts and full hips. She has finally allowed herself to wear the furs of the Aesir that welcome her, thus hiding her usually enticing shape. Yet the excess of fabric just serves to arouse curiosity as to the hidden figure. Her red dress is obvious solely where it presses against the curves of Amarista's bare chest. Her kiss-me lips scream that an honest, somewhat impetuous and free spirit lies deep inside those two seas.

Axel

Cloudbanks heavy with frozen snow and ice, the bones of a whale washed ashore and bleaching in the wan winter sun; that is the color of the man's wings. Wings that extend from his back, arching upward like a wave overtaking a ship. His hair is the same stark color, thick, long and draping down to his shoulders, framing his face. His face is sharp and angular. A small scar on one cheek from some injury long ago is visible through the thick grey beard he wears. His eyes are crinkled, from the smile his lips often wear. And the glint of youth is in them. His vigor and his lack of wrinkles being the only signs that mark him as not so old as a first glance might have one believe.

His furs are gone, save for the large, black cloak that hangs down from his shoulders. The tunic he now wears is of a more local style. It is a well tailored tunic of black silk, heavy in texture. It uses several layers of raw silk with intricate Vanir symbols embroidered throughout the body. It is also lined with soft lamb's wool. The sleeves flow when the wind hits them, giving the impression of wings. A wide, thick belt with silver inlay fastens the garments around the man's body. A large, heavy-looking axe often depending from the belt. In spite of the garment's concealing him, the man is obviously large and well-muscled. His trousers are made of a deep blue wool. They fit tightly against his legs, reaching down to his ankles. Leather shoes cover his feet, laced with thongs of leather.

Lorelei

You see a petite woman with a trim, even athletic, figure no more than 21 years of age. Long, slightly curly, dark hair cascades, unbound, past her shoulders and down her back in contrast to the woman's smooth sandy white complexion; sea green eyes glow softly with a hint of mischievousness. At either side of her throat small slits, barely visible, serve as gills. They, like her webbed fingers and toes, betray her Atlantean heritage.

She is dressed simply in an ivory-coloured peasant style blouse and a pair of black breeches. A red sash is tied securely about her waist; a sheathed bone knife hangs in a scabbard at her side.

Axel turns the cloak about. There's even a finely filligreed chain to connect it about her slender throat. The dazzling white will look beautiful agaisnt her skin. "Please, 'Rista. Take it. It is much warmer then what you have. Do not be so proud." He drops it over his shoulder then and steps around behind her to remove the current cloak. He doesnt' take no for an answer easily.

The young Mongrel submits to the Jarl wishes and allows him to remove her cloak. Amarista opens her eyes wide as she is left uncovered in the cold. With a grunt she finds herself trembling uncontrollably, "'Tis cold!" she exclaims, her teeth chattering in response to the cold.

Axel immediately drapes the huge, white fur cloak over Amarista's shoulders. Reaching around her to fasten the clasp. It is...immense on her, plenty large enough to fully cover her from neck to foot. There's even a hood that hangs down at the back of her shoulders. "There. That should warm you. Even if a man in there with you would not."

The girl looks smaller than ever inside the cloak. She gets lost in it as she lifts her hands to stare at it in awe. Her nose caresses the soft fur. For the first time she grants a genuine smile to the Atar. Her smile stays in place, faiding slowly to his words, "I am sure the right man /could/ warm me. As it has been proven I am /not/ frigid." Amarista tilts her head to one side as if throwing the words back at him.

Lorelei is only now taking the time to explore the Aesir Northlands. However, she is quiet in her explorations, walking slowly, almost, literally taking the time to smell the flowers, seemingly oblivious to the desolation of this cold, harsh land. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all. Unlike, Amarista, the Atlantean doesn't seem to mind the cold as is obvious by her dress.

"It hasn't been proven to me." Axel replies with a jaunty grin. He gives the girl and friendly pat on the bottom which seems to take the place of shakign hands here. "I hope you enjoy the cloak and it keeps you warm." The Aesir looks up then, at Lorelei's approach and calls out, "Hail." Friendly bear.

The girl muffles a shriek as Axel slaps he rear. Yet, she turns to stare at the approaching Atlantean, "Hello." She beams noticing for the first time the woman and the grace with which she walks about the area.

Lorelei smiles, almost shyly, as she comes into sight of the couple. Slightly worried about interrupting, she approaches them slowly until Axel calls out to her, that is. She raises a pale hand in greeting, a smile lighting up her face.

Just grinning at the muffled shriek, Axle watches the Atlantean approach. "Ahh, you are of the water-folk. Captain Demetrius truly has a splendid crew, of many kinds. And of many beautiful women." He folds his arms over his chest, then nudges Rista with an elbow. "Introduce me to this lovely one. Perhaps she is more interested in men then you are, hrm?"

"Are you not cold?" Amarista smiles broadly at the woman. She studies her figure, her complexion slowly, taking in every single piece of Lorelei. Always fascinated with this one being, Amarista's eyes glimmer with curiosity as she concludes her examination by staring at Axel to see if he find the woman nearly as fascinating as she does. Obviously the Aesir does from the nudge she gets, "Of course you have heard of the Aesir Jarl..." she points to Axel, "Well this is he. He is willing to bed you, consider it a priviledge. This, is Lorelei....I think?" Amarista stares at the familiar face, "She is our cartographer." Amarista states simply, anything else for there to find out, the Mongrel leaves for Axel to discover.

Lorelei inclines her head, just slightly, to indicate to Axel that, yes, she is of the water-folk. A gradual increase in redness, however, adds colour to the woman's face as the conversation continues. Turning to Amarista, the more familiar of the two, she nods again. Yes, she has heard of the Aesir Jarl. Another nod to indicate that, yes, she is Lorelei, cartographer of the Amarada. The bedding comment, however, leaves her staring wide-eyed at the pair, still blushing, nibbling upon her lower lip.

Axel breaks into what would be giggles in a woman, but comes out as a might chuckle in the Aesir. These southerners, so self-concious about such things. "A pleasure, Lorelei. I am Axel, and I am greatly pleased to meet you. I trust you are comfortable, your people less affected then the cold then even my own. If I remember aright." He chatters non-stop, though they both may get the sense that his flirtation is just that.

"It's ok. I don't really think he would actually bed either of us. He has plenty of women to choose from in these parts" She nears Lorelei trying to sooth the wide eyed girl. She smiles encouragengly towards the other woman, "You truly are not cold?!" she exclaims, extending her hand to feel the area around Lorelei.

Just as gradually as it had come, the blush fades. Smiling anew, she allows herself to relax, Axel's non-stop chatter more of a help in this than anything else. She nods at the appropriate junctures. A slightly relieved smile extends to the Mongrel. Allowing Amarista to feel the area around her, she shakes her head, one hand reaching for the pad of paper she carries about with her.

Axel tilts his head to one side, then gives 'rista a bit of a glare. "They are not as lovely as either of you, however." He glances around to make sure none of them hear his words though. No use getting himself cut off. He leans in then, to look at what Lorelei is writing. "Is she mute?" He inquires of the mongrel.

"Yes." Amarista replies matter of factly. That much she knows. "But she can fully communicate..." she adds pointing to the pad Lorelei took out. The blush on Lorelei's features is transferred to the Mongrel as Axel /glares/ at her. "I wouldn't say that too loud if I were you Axel, you might find yourself alone at night." Of course Amarista is convinced this has never been the case for this man.

Cyrene ascends the path leading from the rocky shore.

Cyrene has arrived.

Lorelei pauses a moment, in order to collect her thoughts, before proceeding to write, looking up just once to concur with Amarista. Yes, she is mute. She writes quickly, her hand writing neat but small. Upon completion she allows the pair to read what she has written. 'It is a pleasure to meet you, Jarl. I thank you for your hospitality. No, Amarista, I am not cold.'

Just staring at the script, Axel looks over to 'Rista. "What does it say? I cannot read the southern runes. Only our own." And he's not that great at those, beyond counting and such." The large Aesir and the Mongrel and huddled about Lorelei. He just snorts softly at the jibe from 'Rista.

A grin spreads across Amarista's lips. She beams and the gleam of her azure eyes meet Axel as if to exclaim, see?! But he can't see and Amarista reads the board slowly for it takes time for the girl to decipher the words. "It is...a pleasure..to..to meet you, Jarl. I thank you for your hospitality.." she blurts out and as an afterthought "Im sorry I would not bed you were you the last Aesir on this world and the gods dictated me to do so." Yet she speaks a bit too quickly for the words to have been actually read. She then reads the rest of the message. Amarista groans at the message for her, "I wish I could take the cold just as you do." She mumbles.

From the path down to the Rocky Shore there comes the crunch and shifts of stones upon stones, settling beneath bare feet. Head downcast, wounds roughly bound on thigh and shoulder, the Rusalka is clad in nothing -but- those bandages...and her hair. Head downcast, she wanders up the path, not yet noticing the others.

"Call me Axel." The big Aesir comments to Lorelei, once he hears Amarista's words. He smirks a bit at her added phrase, knowing full well that such a small amount of writing could not possibly say all that. "And you are welcome. Captain Demetrius, I owe him a great deal, and so his clan is welcome here." He winks at the water-folk, to see if she will blush again. He then gives Rista a hearty pat on the bottom. "You have the finest cloak in these lands. Made from the hide of a bear."

Eyes open wide as she catches a glimpse of Cyrene's bare body. She is starting to get annoyed with the pats on the bottom. If Axel keeps it up her rear will be red for the rest of theis stay in this place. She groans at the Aesir and her hand swing with all her might towards the Aesir's own rear end. She gives it a hard slap. She then pulls her fur closer to her body and grins at Axel triumphantly before turning her attention once more to the Rusalka.

Lorelei looks worried, just at first, until Amarista demonstrates her reading ability. She nods encouragingly at the Mongrel woman as she reads, eyes widening in response to Amarista's addition. She smiles apologetically at the Jarl, looking back to Amarista with a faint grin. She takes it in good stride and, then, she is writing again. 'Please excuse me. I must return to the Amarada." She smiles warmly at the pair, allowing Amarista to read her words aloud and nodding to the Jarl before setting off.

The murmur of voices and the approach of someone on the path toward her seem to dislodge Cyrene from her stupor. The Rusalka blinks wide, ebon eyes, glancing up. The sight of Lorelei, Axel and Amarista is met with a startled blink, as if somehow unexpected. Advancing a few more steps, she turns to watch Lorelei go before greeting the two remaining with an inclination of her head. "Hello." Spoken in the common southern tongue, so Rista might also understand.