Illarion.org

Draw me a map that I can hold,
Lines that tell me where to go.
My head is full of lonely harmonies,
And questions no one's asking me.


She had had a lot of good fortune in her nineteen years of life, most of it dependent upon her ability to sing a pretty tune. Lorelai’s talent was sought by nobles across Illarion, so she never stayed in one place for longer than a few performances to make enough gold to get her to the next town or city.

Her last visit to Gynk has resulted in a minor rebellion. She’d been performing at a merchant guild’s party and was exchanging flirtatious looks with one of the servers. He was handsome, a smooth, chiseled face with cropped blonde hair and steely grey eyes. During one of her breaks, he found her in a hallway, where they talked for an hour while the party attendees ate.

Their conversation had turned into a quick and innocent kiss and then they were caught. It was “unbecoming” of a girl with increasing status to be seen in a compromising position with a slave, though, she hadn’t known he was a slave at the time, merely hired help.

And thus began the biggest fire Gynk had seen in several years. All the servers were slaves that had been passed off as paid help, and their mistreatment was the source of the fire. The fire was their retaliation for the years of slavery they had been forced into.

That was how Lorelai lost her most prized possession, the harp given to her by her instructor years ago.

She still wasn’t sure how she had ended up in this corner of the world, shivering in the mountain climate of Galmair. It wasn’t home yet and nor would it be for some time. Though several had made her feel welcome, it was the lanky and scrubby red-haired boy who made her feel a bit more comfortable in this new place.

((open to any directly involved with Lorelai))

The boy worked with the speed of a demon, finding himself full of some strange, unknown, untapped energy. He was fascinated by it. Ever since she'd kissed him, he hadn't been able to sleep, or think of anything else. His mind whirred. Was she a witch? Could he unravel this secret? Perhaps use it in some way, or at least understand its source? He'd learnt at a young age that every reaction had a cause, and every mystery had a beginning. Why did his mind stop working when he looked at her? Why had his arms and legs grown heavy, and why had his speech deserted him? Why had he run away? Why could he not say her name without his stomach churning? Had the kiss transferred some strange alchemical concoction into his system?

He mashed up an assortment of herbs, turning it into a paste, and fed a spoonful to a nearby curious ferret. He trapped it, waiting to see the results, but it slipped through his grasp and squirmed away. Never mind. He would try again. Master Ufe was waiting, and he had to impress him somehow.

Someone knew her! Ethan, the kind flutist she had met twice now, had heard her sing two years ago in Liran, where he and his family lived. Lorelai was playing and singing for Ethan and Matt in the tavern, performing her favorite song on the drum, when she saw the look of confusion on Ethan's face. Upon finishing, he said he recognized her voice from a party that he had been to.

Lorelai was ecstatic. How extraordinary it was to make a connection in this hole-in-the-wall tavern far from where they had first unknowingly run into each other.

And Matt.

She liked him well enough, perhaps because of his straight forward speaking, or maybe because he seemed to lose all track of his thoughts and words when he saw her. Never had a boy treated her like that, nor had they indirectly called her fat or stupid. Perhaps there is something there, in that boy, that might help her find her home here.

If not, there are several other handsome young men to chase after.