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[The Fool has, at last, discovered a good reason to make use of this particular aspect of Aifaran technology. Included in this particular post is a photograph of several pieces of woodwork, ostensibly carved by the Fool's own hand. It is accompanied by an offer.]

Hello, dear friends--and dear acquaintances.

I should think it goes without saying that we Dreamfolk left much of ourselves behind us in our old worlds when we arrived in Konryu. For some I imagine that is a blessing, and a curse for others--and for others still, like so often is the case, the feelings are more complicated than that.

It is with this thought in mind that I would like to extend to each of you a kindness: a small, wood-carved token of remembrance, representing the world that you came from, or something of that world that you cherish.

If this offer is of interest to you, please either respond here, or seek me out at my apartment above Die Rosa Tulpe.

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That's an awfully generous offer.

[Blunt, not blunt... yeah, okay, blunt.]

What's the catch?

The catch?

[Blunt or not, at least this fellow is honest.]

I had not thought to include one, but I suppose if you would like to purchase a cup of coffee or tea from Die Rosa Tulpe, Mister Reinherz would not object.

[Yeah, when isn't there a catch?]

Might want to look into that, otherwise it looks suspicious.

[...He's mostly joking, but it doesn't come across well in text.]

I'll come down for a bit, I guess.

[Nothing better to do.]

I shall send you the street address, in that case.

[Which he does. Should Zephyr choose to come by, he'll spot the Fool without too much difficulty: he is the fellow in the scarlet cloak seated beneath an awning, absently whittling away at a piece of wood while a cup of tea steams pleasantly on the tabletop beside him.]

[Zephyr doesn't actually answer the text. But he does drop by, some hours later, ambling into the tea shop. There's a quick scan of the environs -- a habit he doesn't even realize he has -- and then he puts the guy in the red cloak whittling together with the advertisement of wooden things.]

[Yeah, okay.]

[Zephyr heads that way, tugging out the chair opposite and dropping into it.]

Guess you're the guy from the network?

[The Fool looks up from his whittling in time to spot Zephyr’s approach. ‘Guy’ might be a slightly inaccurate label to apply to a person whose choice of clothing and general demeanour seems to float comfortably amongst genders. His lips pull up into an inscrutable smile, and he lifts his chin.] And I assume you have some curiosity about what I am offering.

[He holds up a hand, eyebrows raised.] There is no catch. You have my word.

[Hey, he's seen pretty people before, doesn't necessarily mean they're female. Though he'll admit it was probably a vaguely sexist assumption that a person doing woodworking was a man.]

I might just have come down for the tea.

[Vaguely sarcastic. Zephyr shakes his head and makes an effort not to be rude.]

...Yeah, I'm curious. Why're you working for free? Just sentiment?

Sentiment, [the Fool agrees thoughtfully, though judging by his expression, that isn't the only reason. He tilts his head in considering silence.] Perhaps also an opportunity to meet other Dreamfolk, and to learn their stories.

[There he smiles secretively again.] I am something of a collector in that respect. Of stories, that is.

[He gestures to himself.] I am called the Fool. What should I call you?

A collector of stories. Hunh.

[Zephyr sits back in his chair and cocks an eyebrow.]

[That sure is a title he's got there.]

Zephyr.

[No family name, no nothing, just Zephyr. He doesn't ask about the story behind Fool. Yet. That's the Fool's choice, presumably.]

So how's this work? I tell you a story, you carve a spoon?

[The Fool continues his whittling a moment or two longer, absently occupied by coaxing the wood in his grasp into the shape of... something.] If you like, [he replies simply.] You needn't tell me anything at all, if that is your wish, except what it is you would like for me to carve. It does not need to be a spoon.

Sounds like a good deal.

[Zephyr... did not completely think this through. There's a long pause. He doesn't think he could describe any of his friends well enough for a graven image.]

I'm not sure what to ask for. What have other people asked? --Generally speaking.

[He's not asking about their personal lives, really, just... ideas.]

[Thoughtful, the Fool at last dusts off the carving he has been working on for some time and sets it down on the table in front of him.

Smartly,] One fellow requested his own face. [A frank look suggests both some amusement at the request, as well as some exasperation. He goes on,] Another a small replica of the ship he sailed upon in his own world.

[A pause. Then, regarding Zephyr askance,] I should say that my particular gift is not limited simply to working a chisel against wood grain. Let me show you a bit of what I mean.

[One of the Fool's hands is covered in a simple leather glove, though it takes little time for him to remove it. The tips of two of his fingers seem to be coated in a fine layer of silvery grey substance, as though they have just been dipped in molten metal. Then, reaching for the little wood carving of what appears to be a bird, he gently smooths his thumb across its wing; the sudden rush of almost lifelike detail to the wood grain is certainly unexpected.]

His own face, huh?

[Sounding amused.]

Bet that was fun.

[He bets no such thing. He rests an elbow on the table as the Fool's demeanor changes, and his chin in his hand, and his eyebrows go up at the transformation.]

[Impressed. Not surprised, but impressed. There's a low quiet whistle.]

There's a fun piece of magic. Mind if I ask what it is specifically?

Bet that was fun, [Zephyr says.]

It was, [a pause,] an unforgettable experience, [the Fool decides upon dryly. Then he reaches for his teacup and adds archly, closing his eyes,] More's the pity. [sip.]

[At the inquiry about his magic, he visibly brightens and sets his teacup back down.] A serendipitous accident, in truth. By chance I had cause to brush my fingertips against pure Skill magic coating the arms of a great king in my home world. More than this surely would have killed me, [he admits, considering his fingertips with a look on his face that is difficult to read.]

There is more to know of the Skill than I have had the chance learn, but I fear even if I did know it, those aren't my secrets to share. Suffice it to say that here and now, I can use this gift to give life and depth to my work you won't find anywhere else.

[Oh, that kind of unforgettable.]

[Look, Zephyr knows what it sounds like when someone's trying to be diplomatically polite.]

[He also knows a polite shove off when he hears one.]

Not literal life, I hope.

[No one needs a wood replica of someone's face coming to life, okay. Zephyr thinks about it further.]

If I describe something you probably won't have seen to you, think you can carve it?

Aha, [a subdued bit of laughter,] no, not literal life. That is not among my gifts.

[which isn't to say it can't be done--just that the Fool himself cannot do it.

At Zephyr's question, the Fool tips his head in thought, then turns some in his seat to reach across the table and pluck up a napkin.] Perhaps, [he allows,] if we attempt to draw it first.

[Out comes a pencil, before he fixes his amber gaze attentively back upon his visitor.] Describe what it is you wish for me to carve.

[Probably for the best, as things are.]

[Zephyr leans forward on the table, looking at the blank napkin as though he can already see lines taking shape.]

Well, I guess you could say he looks kind of like a dog...

[He goes on to awkwardly describe a heavenly sprite, from the vast amounts of fluff to the hidden eyes to the way he makes hands for himself when he needs them.]

[The Fool takes his time in attempting to commit Zephyr's description of the small animal down to paper; as with any proof of concept, he has to sketch out several different iterations before settling on something that, he presumes, approximates what Zephyr is wishing for. Having done that, he settles back some into his seat and considers his work; a light, bemused smile quirks up the corners of his mouth.]

What a peculiar creature, [he muses aloud, his tone more endeared than confused. He looks back to Zephyr, still smiling, and asks,] Was he a companion of yours?

[Yeah, Lippy has that effect on people.]

[Zephyr gives the sketch an unconsciously fond look and sits back.]

Yeah. That's Lippy.

[He's really kind of impressed at how well the Fool has finally gotten the shape down.]

He makes the best tea.

[Good luck guessing how serious he is about this.]

He makes--? [a startled look, before the Fool laughs in clear delight. Whether Zephyr is teasing or not, the Fool seems wholly won over by the the bond his new acquaintance shared with the strange little creature illustrated on the paper.] Oh, he sounds marvellous.

Well, how would you like him carved? [The Fool rests his chin in one palm and returns his attention to Zephyr, curious.] I could render you a small figurine, or an engraved pendant, or one of these, [said plucking up one of the ornately carved spoons. He smiles some.] It is entirely your choice. No charge, [he adds, lest Zephyr have forgotten,] unless you would like to tell me a bit more about him.

[He's completely not teasing, promise.] ...He is at that. Wouldn't be here without him.

[And that is definitely enough of that. Zephyr shakes himself out of something dangerously emotional and stretches his arms out idly.]

Don't think I need a spoon. A little figure would be... nice.

[He's a little hesitant about saying more, in the place between wanting to talk about it and really not wanting emotions to happen at all.]

[His hesitation is noted, and the Fool lets it go without prying, though not without a small smile. yes he saw u having feelings.]

Very well, [he replies and gathers up the sketches of Lippy,] I shall let you know when I have finished it.

[You saw nothing. :| :| :| ]

...Thanks.

[Dammit, it's happening again.]

No rush, really.

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