"Keyra. May I have a feather?"
Keyra startled, her eyes widening slightly as she sat there with arms crossed in the midst of listening to the conversation around her. Glancing over to her right, she spotted the man who'd asked her for such a thing. No one had ever asked her for a... feather... before. What a strange human... Lifting an eyebrow she gave a bit of a frown but extended the wing on her right so that she could reach it.
Her fingers delicately brushed through the pure white feathers that were velvety soft until one came free on its own. It wasn't all that much to her really, her feathers were constantly shedding to be replaced with newer ones. Losing one wasn't going to hurt anything. Even so the request was still... odd?
Stretching out her hand, the feather between her first and middle fingers, she handed it to him. Her hawk like gaze scanned over him, noting the two swords on either hip. He was simply dressed with black hair that framed his face in straight locks. She lifted a thinly curved eyebrow as she regarded him.
"Why do you wish to have it?" she asked smoothly genuinely curious as to his reasons.
Sevral was content with the reaction he'd received from Elruin. The man needed a life lesson, and Sevral could almost feel the condescension and loathsome nature emanating from this man in response to what he probably simply assumed was a mere show of whimsical self pandering. In a way it was true, but Sevral's nature gave him answers. Sevral didn't dislike the man, but he wasn't a fan of anyone who boasted their superiority due to a birthright and augmented abilities due to a magical inclination. He meant no disrespect either, but was simply deciding exactly to what extent someone like this could be trusted. Only the movement of Keyra in his peripheral vision, and Elruin's turning to face their Captain is what broke Sevral's unwavering, stoic stare.
Turning to Keyra, he admired the elegance of her wings as they moved, and then he leaned forward slightly to accept the feather. He held the shaft delicately, rotating it between his thumb and forefinger. "These feathers aren't built for flight," Sevral mused, almost to himself. "Nor can they withstand great amounts of water. They are unlike Duck feathers, the fibers do not seal completely." Sevral glanced up to Keyra. "I apologize for my abruptness, let me show you my reasoning."
Sevral, still gingerly holding the feather, reached with his other hand into his satchel and produced a small sketchpad. Using his thumb, he flipped up the cover to reveal a scratch-impression of another feather entitled 'hawk', with the feather itself taped to the next page. He turned a page. 'Duck, Chicken, Falcon,' and a variety more, each displayed as the hawk's feather was. "Do you know what's interesting?" he asked curiously, pressing Keyra's feather beneath a blank page. Removing a pencil from his breast pocket, he placed the lead flag and rubbed it carefully on the paper. The impression came through. Sevral handed her the pad and sat, looking at her. "How easy it is to capture the impression of true beauty in art, but never strive to capture the true beauty itself. To look at a shadow, but never grasp what created it." Sevral held the feather on his palm now towards Keyra. "Too many people do this."
Her gaze watched him carefully as he examined her feather. He was very observant to garner that she could not sustain flight nor getting the feathers soaking wet. Her gaze shifted to a book that he produced and started to shift through to show her the other feathers that he'd collected and made impressions of. In a way they were all very beautiful, very unique. She was slightly enamored by it.
Keyra's yellow eyes watched his every move as he pressed her feather against a clean page and made another impression there. When he finished, he passed the book to her which she took carefully and examined. Her fingers stretched out and brushed across the page, gently touching where her feather had been pressed.
His next words took her for a spin as well. What was he getting at? Flattery? Maybe. Or maybe he was just talking to talk, break the thin silence between them all even as conversation from the others had filled the small space between them. She allowed a very small smile to pull her lips as she turned to hand him the book back. Sevral held out her feather to her. She reached over and curled her fingers under his to close them over the white piece of fluff.
"Perhaps you'll strive to capture true beauty itself then, swordsman? You've already a piece of it," she returned.
Sevral smiled pleasantly back at Keyra and leaned slightly in his chair, his head tilted to one side as his gaze drifted over her. He considered her question thoughtfully, his hand still wrapped delicately around her feather. He'd always strive for perfection, for true beauty, but there was always some flaw. In each of his creations as he looked at them, there was always a flaw. In the feathers of his book, there would be flaws. Perhaps a feather was ripped, perhaps the lead broke during the process of making the impression, leaving an awful mark. But perhaps that was what made it truly beautiful? Sevral still didn't know for himself. Some people just didn't want to enjoy things, so one could never please them. To those people, it would never truly be worth their time to enjoy, and so Sevral's art was a vanity attempt.
"I do try," he said softly, "and thank you. This feather will serve a great purpose. I however am still conflicted on whether or not one truly can capture beauty correctly." The man glanced down to the feather. "What of you?" An eyebrow arched as Sevral's gaze came back to face Keyra. "A Vall with the eyes as brilliant as you possess. Surely it provides a certain vantage point from which anyone willing to listen could gain an opinion?"
A thought ran through Sevral's mind as he spoke. He didn't intend to run them from the conversation, but he dismissed their presence nonetheless. Elruin had already decided he'd bother with more important things than a lowly crafter's nonsensical whims, and Sevral could only assume that the Captain would remain silent to observe how his crew interacted. Sevral wondered briefly how the Captain felt about this group. The exposition of each other was merely a phase, but so far no one had really attempted anything else. The man's eyes flicked to Dravon momentarily. Sevral wouldn't make it his duty, but he genuinely wanted the feather, and if it had opened this tangent which had allowed him to begin breaking the ice, he would follow it. He looked to Keyra for her answer.
Keyra's eyes dropped up and down, seizing up his frame as her lips twitched again into another faint smile, "You've a way with words, swordsman," she said. She lifted up a leg and crossed it over the other as she leaned back, settling against the chair with her body turned just enough so that she could face him without straining her neck.
"Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. Everything is beautiful in it's own right. However to me, what is the most beautiful can only be seen through the colors of what one shows upon fighting. An honorable fighter- an honorable warrior- is the most beautiful of all in every aspect of the word. Would you care to show me yours?"
"There is no other way with words than to simply speak," Sevral said almost absentmindedly. "As for my own opinion... As I said, it is conflicted. As an artist I am ever changing, adapting to what would become new and acceptable, as well as daring to venture into what has yet to be tempted. My craft is as close to beauty as I may get. That is, it is the art I have perfected. The beauty I have been able to grasp and create and share with those around me. Truly the art of combat is just as exhilarating, and it reveals much about the person, but the weapon of choice, be it magic," Sevral glanced to the other woman, "snapping necks," his gaze shifted to Elruin, "or whatever else."
His eyes returned to Keyra, resting momentarily on her blade. "The weapon is said to match the warrior if he or she truly wants to be efficient. If your weapon is not an extension of yourself, it matters not the style or how you fight. You must fight as yourself, hence how one's combat reflects themselves, and you cannot do that with something that is not yourself. My craft is myself, and my craft is whoever wishes to procure it, whether for combat or aesthetics. For that I try to make it beautiful. For that, I try to find what beauty is, but for now, I am still figuring it out."
Sevral fell silent now as he admired Keyra's blade. He was still attempting to discern its functionality in combat, and he'd be sure to investigate more. "Your blade for instance," he began again, this time much softer, as if he were still working through his words in his mind. "Hmm." The thought fell short. Sevral was lost in his own thoughts before he finally seemed to realize he'd trailed. Clearing his throat, he nodded and smiled. "Apologies. Where did you get your craft?"
Keyra listened attentively to Sevral, humming softly in agreement to him regarding the use of weapons being one with their wielder, "You're very wise, Sevral of the Creeds," she said tilting her head off to the side at the end of his speech, "You and I share the same views regarding weaponry. I think in time you'll find what you're looking for."
She noted that his gaze had fallen down to the enormous weapon strapped to her lower back. He'd started to say something, but stopped and eventually changed his thoughts entirely. Reaching back, the Vall undid the clip that held the sheath and weapon to the belt on her back. Lifting it easily, she pulled it up to lean against the chairs between them.
"This blade was made for me by a blacksmith in my world. He was... very good to me," she said as she eyed the blade with a bit of affection for it. Bittersweet memories surfaced briefly before she shoved them back down.
"And yours? Not many carry two blades as I've seen."
Sevral watched the weapon intently. It was a truly captivating piece of craftsmanship. It must be rotation based... Exceptional for defensive purposes. Combined with the lithe form of Keyra, he could only assume that it was a devastating piece of art. Further empowered by her wings which must serve no other purpose, besides beauty, than for heightening her speed and agility by process of elimination, and the way she had moved it already with seemingly no effort despite the size ratio between wielder and craft...Sevral nodded approvingly. The recovery time must be little to nothing. One of the reasons Sevral himself never had an affection for broadswords. He wished to examine it further, but he knew better. Keyra's voice was what finally drew him from his enthrallment.
"The crafter was a brilliant man, no doubt." Sevral said, feeling as though he might have just caught a glimpse of .. melancholy.. nostalgia? The man dismissed it. "I look forward to seeing its performance, though I hope it isn't entirely necessary."
The man glanced down to the dual blades which hung at his sides. He tried to appear modest, to not beam too proudly. He didn't quite succeed. "These," he spoke, "are my craft, and are thus myself. Both blades identical except in one manner. For reasons of my own purpose, I shan't elaborate, and I apologize for that, but I expect that you will indeed learn in time. I had made these some time ago. In fact, I haven't crafted since. These are the pinnacle of my expertise, the last of my production since I had ended my modest guild. I had planned on roaming this world in order to locate the answers to the questions with which you are now acquainted, and only then would I begin my work again. These blades are the single pieces I have kept for myself, for they were made for myself so that I never forget where I left off. Only one of them has ever been unsheathed. The other has yet to be required in any situation."
Sevral hated talking only about himself. He disliked sounding vain, but if the question was asked, he may as well answer. He decided he still wasn't satisfied with what he had. "I thank you for your compliments, and I do hope that I find my answers." The man paused, smiled and then added with a light chuckle, "Perhaps that is what I shall ask for should we succeed in this mission." Sevral nodded to himself, then looked down to the feather still in his hand. "Thank you, Keyra." he said again, content with their exchange. Knowledge for a feather.