To Thunderous Applause
Twenty-Third Day of the Third Month 293 AC
The sound of rain pouring down in sheets against the inn windows wakes you.
Of all the times... For a moment you consider if there is some way to be rid of the pestiferous clouds, but you must sadly admit you have no means to do so without far more risk than can be justified for a day out in the city. "What do you say to going home for now? It might clear up by the afternoon," you offer without much hope.
"It's not so bad," Lya replies, still brushing her hair. "We won't melt from a little water..." As if to give lie to her words thunder rolls overhead loud enough to rattle the glass in the windows. "Alright,
a lot of water then. We can use spells to keep warm..."
"And wishes to keep dry," you catch on, following suit, the pain of the deed barely felt through the lightheartedness that settles upon your shoulders.
More than one local can be heard to mutter something about mad foreigners as the two of you walk by laughing, skipping through puddles like children let loose from under some stern tutor's eye. Though in fairness the fey might have something to do with their weariness. Nixies peer out of the canals, chatting in their burbling tongue, though they are quick to slip beneath the water whenever you should happen to look their way.
By contrast they seem far more likely to approach Lya, perhaps sensing the affinity of her soul to their watery nature. One particularly bold fey with a lily-pad flower in her seaweed locks even calls something to her, though it only elicits a laughing denial.
"She asked if we wouldn't have more fun going under the water instead of up here were there's so
little of it," Lya explains.
You briefly consider whether the fey would be amenable to an offer of employment before firmly locking away the thought, a matter for another time.
***
The Dome is not a playhouse you have had the chance to patronize yet, and truth be told you might have passed it by today as well had it not been for the newly painted sign set out by the entrance:
A Dragon at Hell's Gate. It would seem the offer to the Sealord to have plays recounting your deeds and those of your companions may have been a touch late.
Most of the scenes are taken wholesale from the play you had performed in the Deep a few months past, though the Braavosi mummers do not shy away from embellishment of all sorts.
"...you know I don't think that's a very good representation of you," Lya whispers in your ear.
"I hadn't noticed," you reply dryly looking over the enormous set of crimson bellows with a carved dragon head at the end about to blow out the rickety 'Gates of Mantarys.' Perhaps they could have afforded a fey glamour for this too if they had not seemingly spent all the favors they could scrounge making the mummer that was playing you in human form as handsome as they could. A rather distressing number of the women in the audience and quite a few of the men sighed whenever the fellow was on stage proclaiming his heroic intentions in an unaccountably long winded and florid way.
"I think it's because of your Valyrian looks, I think," Lya muses. "They would associate that with Volantine theater here, so you would come out like..."
"Foul scurrilous fiends, unhand that beauteous maiden lest you face fire hotter than a forge's breath and fangs sharper than a bravo's finest steel..."
"The kind of idiot that usually gets killed because he is too busy talking to actually fight," you finish. "Also there seems to be an unreasonable number of maidens to rescue..."
She gives you a dubious look and starts counting off her fingers: "Hermetia, Valaena, Asha..."
"None of them were
in Mantarys," you quickly interrupt. "The troupe leader could use some pointers I'd say."
"Then why don't you give them to him," she offers with a mischievous smile. "There's probably some use to it, and the look on his face when you introduce yourself would be
priceless."
What do you say to the troupe master of the Dome regarding his latest play?
[] Point out that demons are rarely considerate enough to wait out five minutes of monologue before the fight starts
[] Remind them to give due attention to your companions, and less to supposed romantic entanglements
[] Write in
OOC: Considering your interest in propaganda plays I figured you would be interested in the troupe that is already sort of doing just that.