Playing with Ikons

Mica

I just tried my hand at solo RP. Plunk Mica in her favorite spot, get out her beloved birdie ikons and see where a tired player will take it all to.

Warning: Stream of consciousness. Sort of.

With a polite nod of her head, a city administrator leaves to the south.

Golden Serenity Teahouse.

Banks of clouds roil about here. A chandelier of gemstones and platinum shines in its own light. An unassuming cedar tea table rests here, a humble exemplar of balance and utility. There are 3 low, cushioned chairs of beryl-hued cedar here. A painting of Tosha the Meditative serving tea beneath 

the cherry tree is proudly exhibited on a nearby wall, with an inscription on a plaque on its frame. A city administrator has paused nearby, surveying her surroundings with austere scrutiny. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.

You see exits leading north and down (closed door).

Golden Serenity Teahouse.

Banks of clouds roil about here. The fragrant aromas of herbs, spices, and brewing tea, and the rich redolence of wood and paper permeate this cosy, perfectly square chamber. Overhead, a graceful dome of vivid citrine-coloured crystal filters incoming light into a warm, welcoming golden glow. The 

shop's honey-hued teak walls are polished to a smooth, satiny sheen that accentuates the exotic wood's sinuous, swirling grain, in contrast to the unobtrusive mats of tightly woven fibres underfoot, which muffle footsteps and lend an air of meditative tranquility to the space. To the right of the entrance, an orderly row of tidy wooden shelves and beryl-hewn display cases host a variety of finely crafted cups and bottles, as well as a small selection of culinary goods. Beyond 

them, criss-crossing along the entire western wall, beams of umber mahogany form a precise diamond-shaped lattice, which supports an assortment of bright, jewel-wrought tea kegs and ceramic canisters of loose-leaf teas. Sparkling like crystalline flowers in bloom, the dazzling array of kegs displays 

their colourful craftsmanship to full advantage while safeguarding their delicate contents. A small seating area occupies the space to the left of the entrance, surrounded by fragrant cedar folding screens. Inlaid with monochrome paper panels depicting a strikingly serene, windswept mountain landscape, the screens enclose an area just large enough to comfortably accommodate two for tea while maintaining an intimate sense of privacy. Occupying a perfectly circular glass-topped depression in the centre of the floor, a mandala of brightly coloured sand blossoms with stunning intricacy in every hue. Meticulous whorls, painstaking flourishes, and exacting symmetries coalesce into a many-layered lotus, its petals reaching in each of the cardinal directions to form a poignant symbol of balance and peace. A chandelier of gemstones and platinum shines in its own light. An unassuming cedar tea table rests here, a humble exemplar of balance and utility. There are 3 low, cushioned chairs of beryl-hued cedar here. A painting of Tosha the Meditative serving tea beneath the cherry tree is proudly exhibited on a nearby wall, with an inscription on a plaque on its frame. A city administrator has paused nearby, surveying her surroundings with austere scrutiny. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.

You see exits leading north and down (closed door).

Mica closes her eyes and inhales deeply, absorbing the scent of her surroundings.

Running her fingers over the cedar table wistfully, Mica chooses her seat and settles herself upon it.

Mica sits herself down on a low, cushioned chair of beryl-hued cedar and makes herself comfortable.

Subtly fragrant, unstained cedar the honeyed hue of golden beryl hasbeen fashioned into this sleek chair featuring a conventional back and seat, but a striking absence of legs. Instead, its faultlessly square seat rests directly upon the ground, padded with a well-stuffed cushion upholstered in creamy, undyed linen, allowing the chair to accommodate floor seating or the lowest of tables. Gently angled to provide firm support, the equally square backrest comprises an airily translucent, delicately wrought latticework, as fine as silken mesh, within a polished frame. Neither lacquer or varnish adorns the cedar, clearly displaying the wood's impeccably polished texture and beautifully distinct, straight natural grain and accentuating the elegant simplicity of both the chair's structure and materials.

  Mica is upon a low, cushioned chair of beryl-hued cedar.

 It has 125 months of usefulness left. 

It weighs about 20 pounds.

 It bears the distinctive mark of Daraius Shevat.

Mica rests her back against the chair and languidly studies the painting on the wall, her eyes quickening with concentration as she takes in every detail.

Fine black ink applied meticulously to a long, ivory-hued silk scroll outlines the indistinct forms of distant mountain peaks and nearer cliffs and crevasses, emerging in delicate stippling and languid brush strokes from hazy mists that part just enough to grant a glimpse at the fleeting, solemn tableau within. Nestled among forbidding grey crags alongside a narrow, treacherous path, a quiet clearing lies free of the boulders and gravel ever-present upon the mountainside, where a lone cherry tree, its black, lanky, petal-laden branches grasping gently at the gossamer fog, stands sentinel over the tranquil, windswept cloister. Depicted with precise line work that contrasts handsomely with the nebulous surroundings, four figures, each dressed in shapeless grey robes and distinguishable as loboshigaru by the exquisite detail of their canid features, sit cross-legged in a semicircle around a small, well tended fire pit, their muzzles tilted reverently towards a fifth monk seated at the base of the cherry tree. Notably larger than the rest, either due to his prominence in the setting or to his actual size relative to the others, the grey-furred leader wears a robe of shining silver, rendered in glistening thread embroidered into the silk canvas itself. In his right forepaw he holds a delicate porcelain teapot by its handle, tilting its slender spout just enough to issue a steady stream of steaming tea into the cup cradled in his left. The relaxed set of his brow, the slight upward curve of his lips, and the posture of his pointed ears cast an expression of unmistakable benevolence across his lupine visage, a warmth in his gaze which he casts across the clearing to his disciples, each of whom holds a full tea cup of his own. Borne on an errant gust of wind, cherry blossoms spiral tenderly around the edges of the scene, vanishing at last into the very cloud banks that encroach upon the meditative ritual. Painted in precise silver script in the lower right-hand corner of the canvas are the initials D.S.

 

It has the following aliases: painting. It has 76 months of usefulness left.

It weighs about 37 pounds. 

It bears the distinctive mark of Daraius Shevat.

Gazing down her hooked nose, a city administrator enters from the north.

The sound of buffeting wings is briefly audible.

With a polite nod of her head, a city administrator leaves to the north.

Following the loboshigaru's example, Mica pours herself a cup of tea.

Mica pours summer garland magnolia green tea from an opalescent tea bottle of polished rose quartz into a porcelain tea cup embellished with golden feathers.

Mica takes a drink of green tea from a porcelain tea cup embellished with golden feathers. Her movements become fluid as she drinks the green tea.

The creamy fragrance of magnolia pervades the olfactory senses, lulling and heady, redolent of summer days, entwined with a hint of citrus. Tilting the vessel to her lips, Mica imbibes the freshly-brewed tea, the pale yellow-green liquid spilling smoothly into her awaiting mouth in a rush of sweet, floral warmth. Fresh, uplifting notes of lemon and magnolia bloom upon the palate in harmonious union, enrapturing the senses with the essence of summer. Savouring the taste for a moment longer, Mica at last swallows the steaming liquid, the silk-smooth tea warming the insides pleasantly. As she sighs, a wisp of magnolia-scented

steam escapes her lips, lingering in the air.

Mica closes her eyes, feeling the warmth spread to every inch of her body.

Idly, Mica retrieves her feathered ikon friends and sets them on the table, one by one.

Gently cradling a translucent hummingbird ikon made of water, Mica says, "Hello, Wavewings. Have you been using Starbobbles as your private lift again? Look at him, his feathers are all mussed."

The sound of buffeting wings is briefly audible.

Mica says, "What? It's all right? Well...I always knew you were a kindhearted, Starbobbles. But you ever get tired of being Wavewing's chaffeur, just talk to me, all right?"

Mica says, "Even if I've been away from this world often, I'm still your family. And...and I always will be here for you to coo to. If you need a sympathetic ear..."

Gazing down her hooked nose, a city administrator enters from the north.

Mica suddenly sighs and slumps forward, letting her arms stretch out over the table to the other side. She pushes her head down between her arms and closes her eyes.

With a polite nod of her head, a city administrator leaves to the north.

Cold, clean breezes eddy through the air, driven indoors by the constant winds that buffet the city.

It is now the 22nd of Klangiary, 447 years after the Coming of Estarra.

Dull chiming noises echo in the distance at regular intervals, the sound of hammers on crystal.

The movements of the administrator has clearly registered within Mica, but she pays no attention and continues to speak to herself.

Or rather, to Mica's ikons.

Gazing down her hooked nose, a city administrator enters from the north.

With a polite nod of her head, a city administrator leaves to the north.

Now letting her hand rest against a pigeon ikon's head, Mica says, "Sweet Lelege, I hope you'll never have to feel the way I feel today. Well, even if you do, you'll have Nori, won't you. Though I'm not sure how effective he'll be in cheering you up."

Starting slightly, Mica quickly amends, "No, not at all, Nori! Of course I'm not implying...well, I'll admit, I was a bit worried you might scare Lelege off, but it looks like you two actually are good for each other. If Lelege can temper you, I'm sure you've found a way to reach her when she's down."

Gazing fondly at the opal thunderbird in front of her nose, Mica says, "Rosedown. The more I look at you, the more I feel your name truly fits you. You are every bit as precise and logical as the rose-cut gem motif I named you for."

The sound of quiet, muffled conversation drifts through the air.

Mica says, "You are right, these kinds of slumps, if left to grow, does not befit one of Hallifax. This won't do at all."

Mica pushes herself back up and takes another sip of her tea, eyes growing brighter as the fragrant tang spreads throughout her mouth.

Mica takes a drink of green tea from a porcelain tea cup embellished with golden feathers. Her movements become fluid as she drinks the green tea.

Mica murmurs, "For the first time, I felt lost, Rosedown. I am here, in Hallifax, but I am also jerked about by my tempestuous quantum twin, and when I return--sometimes I feel completely drained, as I am now."

Gazing down her hooked nose, a city administrator enters from the north.

Mica says, "I do things here. I work to power my city as I always have. I've submitted another design, this time for a contest Counsellor Pavok was holding. I write the story of my life in my journal!"

With a polite nod of her head, a city administrator leaves to the north.

Mica says, "But I see no purpose.... On days like this, I see no purpose at all. What use is to learn my tradeskill when I have no manse of my own to store and use my creations in? What use is to try to sing when my heart refuses to choke forth a single note?"

Mica says, "I was not like this the last time I was here. Is this my quantum twin's doing? What has she been doing in that other dimension of hers, to make me feel like this?"

A series of chiming notes, distinctly crystalline, ring out in the distance in a slow, descending scale.

Mica says, "So many possibilities, so many things to imagine about this twin, and her other world. But, at times, the very unlimitedness of this possibility simply overwhelms me and throws me off my train of thought."

A series of chiming notes, distinctly crystalline, ring out in the distance in a slow, descending scale.

Mica says, "There must be things a shard's brain is too, well, sharded to comprehend. Things only the Divine can understand. Perhaps things that they too, do not understand."

Gazing down her hooked nose, a city administrator enters from the north.

Mica says, "Thinking of them can be fun at times. The feeling of dizziness that may strike me also serves as a proud reminder that my thoughts are climbing to places that mortal thoughts cannot dare to climb."

With a polite nod of her head, a city administrator leaves to the north.

Mica says, "But at the end of the day, what truly matters is this reality I am living, isn't it?"

Mica says, "Having a quantum twin that affects me so is an unfortunate thing. But it is up to me to temper whatever she has left behind. I cannot point fingers at her, since she is dimensions away. Why, I don't even know what she looks like!"

Mica says, "However unfair it feels, to have an unseen being jerk you around at her leisure and infects your mood with hers, I am left with no recompense or aid. In the end, I have to bear it all. This is everyone's lot in life. Questioning the reasons for happenings is never as important as learning to take them in stride."

A series of chiming notes, distinctly crystalline, ring out in the distance in a slow, descending scale.

Dull chiming noises echo in the distance at regular intervals, the sound of hammers on crystal.

Mica blinks slowly, then turns her gaze down, where five bird ikons stand, placidly awaiting for her to continue. The light filtering through the shop makes the hummingbird ripple and flicker in a rough resemblance of a shrug. The pigeon called Starbobbles stands, serene and understanding, upon the cedar wood while the feathers of the one called Nori ruffle restlessly in the breeze. The two other females, Lelege and Rosedown, stand side-by-side near the edge of the 

table. They stand motionless and erect, the beady black eyes of Lelege and the larger pair of the opal thunderbird twinkling in the sunlight.

Mica says, "I am sorry, children. I've been playing head doctor and patient with you all for far too long."

Mica sweeps all of her bird ikons into her arms and gently squeezes, her hands wrapping about her torso and her wings wrapping about her arms.

Mica whispers, "I am happy to have every one of you here for me... Yet..."

The Portal of Fate flashes as Shlika steps through, now ready to begin a fresh life in Lusternia.

Dull chiming noises echo in the distance at regular intervals, the sound of hammers on crystal.

Shaking her head briefly, Mica smiles reassuringly at each ikon in turn as she says,"Don't worry. Whether life grants me slices of sweet heaven, or catches me up in its maw and shakes me around like a hound's plaything, I still won't forget to spend time with you all. You've been with me through good times and bad, even if I haven't actually spoken to you then. I won't forget you, even when reality catches up with me."

Mica says, "I need a place where I can be the child I never left behind. Friends for her, for me, to play with."

Cold, clean breezes eddy through the air, driven indoors by the constant winds that buffet the city.

A wistful, hopeful look enters Mica's eyes, and she quietly says, "Perhaps, when I have my own child, I will introduce her to you. The friends her mother had, that brought her within herself and helped her air out her heart."

Mica says, "Be there for me. Don't ever decay or disappear. I promise to remember you and play with you. Please, listen to the chirping of this bird and be good to one another. Be happy. That is all I want of you."

Dull chiming noises echo in the distance at regular intervals, the sound of hammers on crystal.

Placing a kiss upon the head of each bird, Mica carefully stows away her ikons one by one, then gets to her feet with a small sigh.

Mica gets up off a low, cushioned chair of beryl-hued cedar.

Mica dusts herself off vigorously and takes a deep breath as she straightens.

Mica says, "Now, off to the Matrix. It's time I did some work this weave."

EDITS: Font issues.

Kilee

TIL I'm not the only person that talks to themself in game

Mica

Kilee said:

TIL I'm not the only person that talks to themself in game

Let's get together and do a soliloquy battle.

Kilee

Mica said:

Kilee said:

TIL I'm not the only person that talks to themself in game

Let's get together and do a soliloquy battle.

You have emoted: Issey greets Mica, turning her back from her looking to some unseen audience.

You say, "Stupid! How did you mix the wine with the perfume, surely you've made an enemy."

Mica steps to Issey's side, standing a few feet away as she addresses the same unseen audience.

Mica says, "Oh my the wine she gave me, I am ever curious of the taste but I surely can not drink it and throw the Collect morals in the garbage."

to be continued

Mica

Mica looks around for a chair and table but fails to find one.
Mica ponders the situation.
Calling upon her almighty rift, Mica assembles the materials and constructs a simple table and chair before lowering herself carefully into the chair. She puts a bottle, a teacup, and her feathered ikon friends on the table.

Mica says, "My friends, I've a dilemma."

Mica addresses an opal thunderbird. "I am more than eager to sample this, and I'm sure I won't be in the wrong for wanting to enjoy the piece of art all good wine is. I won't even get drunk that easily after what happened with firemead."

Mica looks around confusedly before saying, "This isn't Hallifax, is it?"

Mica looks about herself furtively and takes a dainty sip from her teacup without reaching for the bottle.
With a satisfied air, Mica now picks up the bottle with one hand, pausing to admire its craft before patting an opal thunderbird ikon's head.
Mica says, "Thank you for listening, Rosie."
Smacking her lips, Mica declares, "Fine wine in a fine bottle. Now if this isn't Harmony, I don't know what is."

Your turn!