Heroes of Rebirth

[TheDarkDM]

Heroes of Rebirth

Prologue

Beyond the edge of Creation, on the sea of memories drifting into oblivion, there stood an island, its cliffs of white marble and black basalt standing defiant against the tide.

Upon the island, there stood a grand manse, thirteen proud towers of thirteen colors clustered around a tall peaked hall, their blazing windows rejecting the dark.

Within this manse, there dwelt a God.

But the god did not dwell alone. For he was Imsin the Chronicler, Imsin the Scribe, and he was entrusted with the most precious gift of a dead world. For in his care he held the future. Not Gods, not yet, but the children of Gods. Children in whose breasts beat the fire of new life, the promise of the seed rising from the forest fire. In their triumphs and their tribulations, the fate of a new world was played out in miniature, the fickle fingers of Fate adjusting its board with every scraped knee and every whispered promise. None could say how long they had dwelt within the manse of the isle upon the sea, for time flowed inconstantly in the silver haze of that expanse, but it had been long enough. The children of the Old Gods had grown into the flower of their youth. They had embraced, or rejected, the path laid before them by their lineage. Now all that remained was for them to rejoin the world.

But it was not yet time.

Within the manse beyond the edge of creation there were seventy-seven rooms, each designed with special care to a special purpose. And perhaps it would have been enough, had each of the thirteen towers not held four of those rooms, and all but one those towers had been sealed since the most distant time of the childrens' birth. Still, the main hall held treasures all its own, its vast entryway rising three storys to the apex of the house, where the ceiling frescoes depicted the shifting sky of the Old World, brilliant day fading to a sparkling night in a dim reminder of Unir's lost masterpiece. From this room there were many doors, to kitchen and training ground and workshop, and even to the dining room where twelve grand thrones stood pushed against the walls, replaced by two smooth benches along the length of its singular ebony table. At one head sat the last throne, the throne that had sat unused since the departure of the Old Gods, and at the other crouched a humble seat where Imsin would share his meals with his charges. Outside sprawled manicured gardens and a small copse of mismatched trees, and nestled near the kitchen wall was a humble vegetable garden. A child's garden. It was a humble place, by the standards of the Old World. A small place. And it was home.

But for how much longer? The children had all felt the stirrings in their breast, the inexplicable anxiety that gripped them when they stared out into the silver haze on the horizon. They knew that Imsin had felt it too, and had but to walk to the crumbling edge of the isle to prove it to themselves. For there sat a ship, new and unblemished by the rigors of travel, its silver planks and opalescent sail a testament to the memory-spun materials of its crafting. For Imsin knew that the time of his guardianship was drawing to a close. The frescoes in the entryway had begun to fade, the cliffs of the isle begun to crumble, and in the wind he could hear the incessant keening of Destiny. The old Weavings that held this place could not long endure the nascent wildfires within it, and those selfsame sparks would only fade if forced to remain. So Imsin had begun to craft, as well as he could, Weaving strings of love and memory into solid Will, to forge but the second ship in all history capable of making the journey from Memory into Reality. Now the ship stood ready, but the children had not yet been given leave to go. Some last few preparations had to be made, as Imsin worked feverishly in his study on some yet-undiscovered project. For now, the Farthest Shore was still home.

But for how long?

[5ColouredWalker]

'How long? But then again, if the Island didn't degrade with time how long until I left at all?'

Memoria sat upon the open tower, looking out to shore, Ismin working somewhere below... She should be recording these last preparations, but she can't bring herself to.
'My own thoughts will be enough, as will what I see from here before we finally go.'

Leg swinging slighty from the roof's ledge, Memoria sat drawing in a book, a stick of charcoal marking a page from which finger marks could erase lines with the right intent, a gift for which she was thankful. With her left hand however, Memoria didn't hold the page, she trusted that to fate, as another stick wrote down Memoria's thoughts and emotions... Normally, when Memoria touches the senses, she dulls them, seeking to pass without a word, by today she enhances her own, listening for her siblings works and to the efforts of Ismin, her eyes sharp enough to catch every bubble of foam on the waves, though she had long since paused her vision, seeing what she thought would be the perfect moment for the drawing...
In truth, it was already committed to memory, and she'd likely be updating it through the night with her siblings positions just before they boarded.

'I wonder what the rest of them are packing...'

[TechnOkami]

Sulh

The isle was a flurry of pent-up energy. Godlings pattered to and fro with errands or tasks they wished to do before their departure amidst a sea of stars. Silver timber lay aside a grand pier of alabaster, liquid starlight lapping gently against its sides. A mast of many colors all at once lay primed, but not yet unfurled to the celestial winds; rigging of gold still kept that ship at bay, but its time would come. For now, despite the restlessness that gnawed upon the psyche, there was peace to be had upon this lonely ruin of a nearly absent divinity. Even though it was in the process of degradation, it did so with a quiet grace. No place was better to feel this upon the isle than within the heart of the heavenly gardens. Amidst crystal waters weaving through his still hands 'neath verdant branches, Sulh sat in stillness.

Nary a breath could be heard from him, for he was ceasing all extraneous sound from his person to stop and embrace the last, quiet vestiges of old power that kept this living tapestry of rock and water woven together. For though the moment now was indeed calm, he knew it would not last. Their home was slowly, so painfully slowly, corroding before their eyes. The signs were everywhere; the white cliffs were gradually losing more mass, no longer the bulwark it once was. The silver-grey beaches were losing more and more of their essence, ever falling to oblivion beneath the isle. Even the endless water was beginning to show signs of recession. So, he embraced these small, silent things that made the house he and his many kin resided in, attempting to lose himself within the moment, desperately trying not to think of the secret thoughts of inevitability that lurked within his being. He did not, could not bear the thought of losing all that they had here. Though mute to the outside world, his mind resounded with a single question that couldn't leave his mind at peace.

...will I be able to carry this peacefulness with me?

[Gengy]

Animals on the Farthest Shore were... odd. There were small game, like rabbits, that seemed to populate quite quickly and only when someone was hoping to have Rabbit Stew that evening. Then, like ghosts, you wouldn't see any more until someone bothered to hunt for more. Deer were the same. You could, if you were looking, find their tracks; and if you looked hard enough, everyone could enjoy venison for dinner. There were rodents too, like mice and rats, but they were more rare, as though they were descendants of some great intrepid explorer that sneaked upon the last boat to reach the Farthest Shore... yet they had been seen more frequently, ever since Qure-Inaria took an interest in them.

And then there were spiders. Eight-legged little things things, mostly. They too, were not everywhere. But they were among the biggest predators on the island. Which is to say that the Farthest Shore had very few truly dangerous beasts or other animals. There was some kind of story there, if Imsin ever chose to tell it. The spiders, however, were important, for they ate the few small bugs and other things that fluttered on the island. Still, that didn't mean that anyone on the island had to have any particular soft spot for the creepy crawlies. Even if, without the spiders, there surely would be more - small - annoying pests on the Farthest Shore than there were.

Which would have been unacceptable. Particularly to the most unusual animals on the Farthest Shore, the ones that were the deadliest predators, that did often go looking for Rabbits or Deer or take an interest in rodents. And also included the island's two - large - pests. Nearly identical creatures, they had green pants to match the color of their eyes. Their lean, lanky muscles were hidden under the loose, almost flamboyant white shirts with black leather strips tying the collars. Their belts were a deep tan, and were almost an after thought, for the shirts were often only half-tucked in. And these two creatures were only discernible by the length of their shocking red-orange hair; one short, one long.

Deers would wisely never appear before the predators. Rabbits would run from them quicker than anything. Even mice and rats knew better to stay in the same room.

While they were not the most life-threateningly dangerous creatures on the island, the two largest pests on the Farthest Shore had perhaps the most terrifying sound; perhaps because like many predators, they made no noise until after the deed was done.

That is why Deers and Rabbits would run from them. That is why small rodents would be more wary of black and red boots than they would of offerings of cheese on strange wooden and wired platforms.

And why even the Children of the Gods feared hearing the howl of Rize and Ruyn, the Twin Terrors, too close to themselves. For it was not like the howl of some wolf or some large cat beast, but something often equal parts terrible, harmless, and... embarrassing. It was the howls of laughter.

The longer one went without hearing it, however, the more anxious you got. For who knew who was being 'hunted' next? Who knew where the twins would be lurking, or what they had planned? Who knew if there was any way to get them to ever stop? And honestly, who knew if their harmless mischief would do any good back in the Old World?

The answers were obvious: the Twins themselves did.

"Zee," Ruyn said to his brother, "This is getting boring."

"Wye," Rize whispered back, "You lack patience."

"But we have been waiting up here for hours. She may not even be coming back this way."

"Oh, she will. This is the shortest path, and it is the most obvious and noticeable path."

"True, she isn't the type to sneak when a grand entrance could be made."

"And what a grand entrance this will be!"

[AlexanderML]

Lorci had gotten out of bed today, slumping over the side of the bed making the usual *thud*. Undeterred it threw it's blanket back onto the bed and tried to make it look neat (failing). The next step in it's daily routine is to... (put on cloths or check on the rabbit? *looks at script* OK got it) ...put on some clothes.

Next Lorci went to the corner of it's room and uncovered it's favorite little thing, a baby rabbit named Cookie. It was not fully weened when Lorci found it scared and alone, which made it hard for Lorci to care for it in the beginning, but Lorci's always been good with animals so it was not too much of a stretch to see it taking good care of the rabbit.

This day though Lorci could not take care of the rabbit's problems, because it was sick. It was laying on it's side with one of it's eyes sealed shut by goo. Horrifying Lorci a bit seeing the rabbit like that in it's cage.

Running out of it's room Lorci went straight for Ihrmil's room. Lorci stood at the doorway for about five minutes before knocking on the door and said: "Ihrmil, Ihrmil! Please, I-I need your help..." It's voice dying down from embarrisment.

[Warmatt]

Like every morning, he had been up before the crack of dawn, and begun to do his work, making sure that the larder was stocked with the fruits of the garden, that the crops were growing, and the weeds, almost as big a pest for him as those terrors, plucked and pulled, even as he carefully put them in a bag to take to Zersetzen later, well, besides those that make a good tea, which at least a few of the girls, and Imsin himself come to think of it, would like.

Still, as he checked the garden and field, the crops doing fine, he would have time for the harvest, time to prepare the food for the voyage, as he ambled his way into the small shed, were he kept his still, and so the... liquid refreshment was being prepared. Mead, ale and wine for the most part, the forays into remaking the brewers and vintners arts, as he checks the vats and kegs, pleased with the progress.

The next stop on his route, a slow but sure circuit, was the trees, as he checked the fruits and the nuts, making sure the pests were kept at bay. And while the scamps had at times targeted the trees, well, if they destroyed the crop, no apple pie. It's served to make them leave the trees alone for the moment, as he nods to himself, the wealth of the trees rich and almost ready.

He would continue on, to the house itself, into the larder, to check on the stores of victuals, the stockpiled dried meats, jams, biscuits, loaves of bread, cheeses, dried fruits, baked nuts, kegs of ale, mead and wine, aging and prepared for the journey ahead, and the final fruits of his labors.

Still, as he smiled, he would start on the second half of his rounds, only a half loaf of bread, with blueberry jam and a skin of apple juice for breakfast.

[HalfTangible]

"The more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes." -Jim Thompson

---

When Amoros had been younger and the gods still were among them, he would come to a little cove near the edge of the island with all his siblings and cousins. It was close enough to the manse that, when the gods had still been here, it was safe to swim. here was a small outcropping at the top of the cove that the gods would jump down before swimming. He remembered chatting with Laelia here about... well, whatever they felt like, mostly pretty things. Rize and Ruyn had more than once gotten the drop on him on the return trip. It was a lovely place that Amoros couldn't help but think of fondly.

That cove had crumbled away. Memoria probably had all the details recorded already, down to the last rock outcropping, but Amoros preferred to look towards where it had once been. He could still hear the ringing of their laughter, the splashing of water, Father scolding him for going out too far that one time...

... He missed Father.

Amoros made his way back to the vegetable garden and flopped down onto his back, smiling to himself, letting his eyes fall shut. He breathed in the hearty smell of fresh flowers and vegetables, knowing that he could pluck one now and eat greater bounty than he could find even in his dreams. He would be leaving this place soon, he knew, but for now he was still in a place he loved.

...

He sat up suddenly. "I already put my pack on the ship, right?"

[Othniel]

Ihrmiel

Ihrmiel had risen early that morning, or earlier than usual at any rate. She enjoyed waking before dawn most days, when she would head to the gardens, find her favorite rock in the midst of a stream, and wait for the light to slowly creep over the garden walls. It gave her a feeling of newness, of revitalization, and had become a morning ritual for her going back longer than she could remember. Ihrmiel sat upon her favorite rock, one hand dangling in the cool water. Reaching her rock meant walking barefoot through the cold, clear water, and she shivered slightly, partially from the cold, and partially from anticipation. The bottom of her dress was also wet, but that didn't bother her aside from the added chill. The morning light would dry it out soon enough, and bring warmth to herald the dawn. This was one of the last few mornings she had for her private morning ritual, and of late they had become precious to her.

She was eager to embark upon the voyage to the Old World, but also sad to leave her home. Ihrmiel still had several things to do. She'd already gathered from the forest what plants and seeds she thought might be useful in the Old World, but she needed to tend to the gardens today. Seedlings would be wonderful if she could manage it, but Ihrmiel wasn't sure how long the voyage to the Old World would be, so it would probably be safer to collect seeds. I should speak with Matthias later, Ihrmiel thought. Perhaps he will have some insight. Just then a spark of light appeared over the garden walls, and Ihrmiel smiled, quieting her thoughts to enjoy the morning.

Elsewhere upon the Farthest Shore, a knock echoed at her door, but no one answered, for the room was empty.

Not trying to be rude, AlexanderML, but I already had plans for Ihrmiel to be in the gardens. If you wish, he can remember that she likes to spend much of her time there or in the forest.

[hi-mi-tsu]

Laelia

The ship was beautiful. Like a dream, floating within the haze of memory that surrounded their crumbling home. She'd captured it in drawing and in paint, and had watched it bob slowly up and down in the waves for hours at a time; it was to be their transportation to a new land. Or to an old land, really - the Old World. A place that had exploded in fire and sorrow, to hear Imsin speak of it. A place which had once been filled with a vast wonder, and which was now a mystery.

A mystery! Her heart swelled at the thought. There were so few mysteries left on their little island. She'd sketched the trees in their innumerable states, patiently stalked rabbit and deer and crow and spider, watched the slow ebb and flow of the water against the rocky edges of their home. She'd begged Koriah for plaster and made casts of the footprints the animals left behind, traced her siblings' imprints in the earth, sketched the rooms and halls of their home. She'd even tried to get Imsin to open just one of the sealed towers, to allow her a peek inside - to no avail.

Those towers were among the only mysteries left here. Those, and whatever Imsin was occupied with now. She craved new scenery. New creatures. New anything, at this point! She wanted to breathe different air, to trace different flowers, to paint different people. Her supplies had been gathered together neatly in a pack, and came with her wherever she wandered. She didn't want to be caught unprepared.

If one were to look for Laelia now, they would find her wandering over the island, most likely on the cliff-edges and beaches that looked out into the vast, mist-covered oceans.

[Jade_Tarem]

Koriah

She'd had a few setbacks.

One of them was that she had literally had to set up further back from the disintegrating coastline. The cliffs were crumbling these days, taking her infuriatingly farther away from the Silver Mists of Memory that walled off their little haven. The second was that her attempt to smelt the odd ore - 'iron,' Imsin had called it - had failed. Try as she might, she couldn't get the kiln she'd been using hot enough, and instead of a super-metal she'd wound up with a very boring, sweaty afternoon and a very hot rock.

She'd elected to abandon that plan for the moment, though she kept it at the back of her mind where the rest of her not-yet-successful projects went. Instead, she'd upped the complexity of her bronze tools. Many of them were amusing but impractical, some she had enchanted to move on their own. Lately, though, she'd been focusing on practicality over style and function over form. The Silver Mists stood stalwartly in her way, blocking her ability to determine what, if anything, it would be necessary to have when they reached the real world.

The real world! A land of song and fable - literally. All they knew of it was what Imsin had told them: it was a different world that operated on different rules. Some of it frightened Koriah, when she was being honest with herself. Apparently food and shelter didn't just exist out of pure convenience. Materials might not be readily available. And, of course, there were monsters... at least in theory. The more she'd listened, the easier it had been to see that Imsin didn't know the exact situation of the real world, or what it would be like when they arrived. On the other hand, she knew, deep down inside in places she didn't bring up in front of the others, that she had to go. The real world was not a stagnant, eroding pool of memory. It held unmatched opportunity, of this she was inexplicably certain.

That was why she was trying to get a sneak peak! Her latest invention was a joint effort with Calenthiel - a pair of tubes, or what would be tubes, one for each of them, lay open before her on a carefully folded cloth. The components to screw and bolt them together were organized around that, and the tools were carefully laid out within easy reach. Koriah's living space was a hideous wreck, but her workspace was immaculate. All that was missing was her partner in crime for the day, but not for long. She smiled as she looked up, coming briefly out of the jittery gloom that had settled on her ever since the boat had appeared. "Calenthiel! Did it work out?" He had, she knew, been working on specially curved glass bits - lenses, he'd called them - that seemed to affect light, or vision, or maybe both. They'd worked out how combinations of these might make small things seem big, or distant things seem close... and the fact that Calenthiel also carried a cloth, folded over and over to prevent the lenses from scratching each other, seemed to indicate that he'd had success putting theory into practice. Today, they would use them to try to pull clues from the Mist itself!

[Nefarion Xid]

Calenthiel came bearing gifts.

He pulled back the cloth with a look of serene pride and a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. They may have been his plainest creation to date, four flattened spheres, two small, two large, all flawless and ringed in bronze. It had taken seven batches of glass and of the forty two lenses he'd made, these were the ones who had survived his meticulousness and wrath -- spare the three he'd judged as 'adequate' and given away as gifts to Laelia, Arauru and the twins. Naturally, he'd made Rize and Ruyn share the one.

With a gloved hand, he held one up between his cousin and scrutinized her expression with a bulging eye. "I should take half day long baths more often. The idea wouldn't have come to me if I hadn't been watching water drip off my fingers."

"It must be a product of vision: an invisible, intangible ray from our eyes," he concluded. "Light and fire shouldn't be so... predictable, so easily tamed."

[Dannir]

In the recent days, Stygen had been harder to find than usual. Not that she was usually the most sociable of the godlings, mind, but one could usually find her easily. Recently, however, she had been prone to seeking isolation from her siblings. Ever since it was becoming clear that their time on the Farthest Shores was nearing to a close.

What's worse, even when one found her, or when she was with everyone else for meals, she was rather distant, rarely seeming to pay much attention to the conversations around her. Often, when one addressed her, they would often have to repeat what they'd just said - she would be too focused on her own thoughts, and only have noticed that they were talking to her. That is, if she even heard the first time.

What were the thoughts that were taking up her attention so? Well, that of her and her siblings' ever-approaching departure. Soon, they would be working to fix what remains of the world as best as they can... Were they up to the challenge? Was she?

She didn't know. As much as she hated it, she knew they wouldn't be able to find out until they actually got to work. But she hated not knowing... That, and it scared her. Terrified her, even. What if they failed? That would be it for the world, wouldn't it?

This morning, she once again woke with these thoughts. This time, however, she decided to try to clear them away... She headed towards the gardens. When she found her way there, she found Ihrmiel watching the sunrise. For a moment, she considers talking to her... But she reconsidered. Instead, she sits under, a tree some distance away, following her lead for the time being. For a while, at least, she wasn't thinking about her worries.

[Draken]

Zersetzen

It was busy these last few days, with everyone packing their things and loading the ship.

Zersetzen was much the same, always boxing glass vials and clay pots into neat wooden boxes padded with hay. Soaps, incenses and aromatics from his laboratory. Glue, alcohol, ink and wax. A few poisons and acids as well, and even the odd poultice or medicine he had learned from his older sister. Everything neatly marked and catalogued. All in preparation for the , presumably, long voyage to the Old World.

Thrilling prospect, really. All their lives surrounded by the works of their parents, crumbling, yes, but magnificent in a solemn way. And soon they would have the chance to match and perhaps best them.

How? Well, one thing at a time. And now is far from that time.

Either way, he had loaded presumably the last of the stock yesterday, and now, like the others, he waited. Strolling around the palace. He would miss this place. The stately corridors, with its golden chandeliers, its paintings and carpets. How long would it be before they could turn the ruin of reality into something like this.

A labored turn to another corridor, where he and his sisters had their rooms. One of the most pristine areas of the palace, if Zersetzen could say so himself...

Well, there would appear to be a slur in the hall.

Zersetzen can but frown at this development.

[Snowfire]

'Hope is golden.'

Kyra remembered that very clearly, a shred of a conversation long since passed from her memory into the sea that surrounded them, but for that fragment. It had been...important. She could remember something of the world then, lit by flames that she had learned in later days to be those of annihilation, and the voice had been mothering, gentle. Yet she couldn't place it by name, for she remembered snippets of many mothering, gentle voices. So she had chosen to leave the importance of 'who' to pass, holding instead to the message itself. Sometimes it had felt like all she'd had to hold on to. She shook her head sharply, trying once more to shake free the webs of sadness and tightly drawn pain that the announcement of their teacher had done so much to loosen. Yet it was easier this time. And it hadn't been easier for...for a very long time.

With the help of her sister, and those friends she'd made, Kyra had long since deciphered the root of her manic depression, yet knowing the why did little when she had no way to fill the hole that the fire from her birth had filled. She'd even gone so far as to ask Koriah to open her forge to her, in the hopes that those forge fires might tinder the sparks she still felt within. But that, as all else, had been in vain until now. Imsin's words of returning had found purchase somewhere deep inside her, where the fire that had sustained her and made her so bright during the days of sorrow had once burned. Burned to nothing, so she'd though, at most to sparks that could never be rekindled. Yet as she laid a hand on her breast and felt the gentle flicker of tinderflame, she considered that sometimes being wrong could be a happy thing. And that maybe what Imsin had told her, and that she had repeated, might truly be. That with life, there was hope. Even if it was buried deep, burnt down to nothing, there was hope.

On waking she'd remembered those words from the past, of the colour that she'd been told was hope's, and she had desired to see it. Maybe it would not be gold, but it would be a spark. And right now that was what she needed. So she dressed happily, if wearily from the long night of work past. Gentle, flowing things suited her today, she'd packed away what little metal she owned, and after dressing she took the long path to the garden, feeling out the limits of the lone flame that she could feel inside of her. It made her feel...light. Maybe she would talk to Calenthiel about that.

But for now she wanted to see the spark, and what better fortune could there be for Ihrmiel to be watching for it too. She'd...not been good to her sister for a very long time. Maybe seeing her like this, seeing her bright again, could help? If nothing else, she owed her the trying. She approached quietly, but she knew better than to try and sneak up on her younger - was she really? it was so hard to remember - sister. Water made it somewhat unfeasible, anyway.

"Ihrmiel?" She asked as she reached the edge of the stream. "May I join you, sis?"

[Tychris1]

Qure-Inaria

Forest

Qure-Inaria brushed aside a strand of hair that had defiantly decided to leave her meticulously brushed hairdo, a task that she had set upon the moment she had awoken. Her daily procession of personal accessorizing and maintenance was perhaps one of the few times when she was at her most serene, a sight that only a select few members of her family were given the privilege of viewing. Her robe was a mixture of rat furs that she had found most exquisite, a cornucopia of browns and whites that Laelia had aided in ensuring that they transitioned properly, and to top it off her feathers had predominately changed to various reds and blacks to complement the ensemble. Gripped daintily in her right hand was a crooked branch that curled into a ball at the top, a tool that she used to assist in her walking.

She had decided to help her sister Ihrmiel rummage through the forest for any herbs or bits of shrubbery that would prove useful for their upcoming voyage out of the Farthest Shore. Qure-Inaria had always felt natural in the outdoors, her senses constantly keen like a starving predator on the hunt, and though she wasn't really sure what to look for she kept a close eye out for anything interesting regardless. She ruffled her feathers, squinted eyes staring out imperiously through the woods before kneeling down and picking up a small brown flower. "Is this what you're looking for, sister?" She held it out and away from her, pinching the stem between her pointer finger and her thumb as if it were some dangerous material ready to explode.

Afterwards...

Qure-Inaria strode through the clearing in the forest with a hurried but controlled gait. Each step from her long and powerful legs causing her curvy hips to swing from side to side, sashaying dramatically in time with the swinging with her staff. It was as if she lead some kind of invisible band behind her that marched to the whipping of her long and luxurious hair. Banging the end of her rod against the trees as she progressed down the path, her lips curled into a proud smile as she hummed a few notes to some song taught to her by Imsin long ago, and soon it was followed by the rhythmic high pitched squeaks of rodents behind her. In truth she was leading an invisible procession, a small swarm of rats trailed behind her beneath the cover of grass, slowly growing in size as a few mice crawled out of the trees she banged on. Today was a beautiful day, she could tell it in her hollow bones, and it only seemed to be improving with each step she took.

That is, until the squeaking stopped.

Cocking an eyebrow, Qure-Inaria began to turn her head from side to side, her keen ears now noticing the infrequent symphony of her little followers. Traitors, the lot of them. They were lucky to have even be given the time of day by her let alone the mental capacity to dream them forth onto the Furthest Shore. She would have to make an example out of a few of them, teach them proper obedience to their mother and caretaker. Yes, she could already imagine what'd she do to them in time. Not allowing her verminous band to stop her mirth, Qure-Inaria opened her mouth and began singing a high note before suddenly a massive dark figure blocked her view and landed on her.

"AAAAAAAAAAYEEEEE!"

The bloodcurdling scream that erupted from her throat was so loud that it echoed far and wide away from the forest, a banshee's wail so full of fright that it sent what few rodents remained fleeing in every direction. Her robe fell to the ground, slowly deflating as if the air that now filled her place took a second to realize she had evacuated it. Feathers exploded in every direction, blowing with the sudden gust of wind that was created by her spontaneous ejection. Even a few strands of hair had fallen down to the ground from how quickly she had jumped, branches bending and leaves rustling as Qure-Inaria leaped up to the top of the nearest tree. Clutching its trunk with her arms and legs, she squeezed her naked shivering body against it with all her might, as if it were the only thing holding her down to this earth. Eyes bulging, she looked around erratically to find her attacker somewhere down amidst her robes, only to realize in a flash of strung-out insight that the eight legged monster was stuck between her bosom. Releasing her grip on the trunk, Qure-Inaria flung herself away from the tree and landed back onto the earth with a resounding THUD.

"GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF."

She cringed as she saw the spider fall to the ground only a stones throw away from her and held her hands up in a defensive position, preparing to viciously strike it down if it tried to crawl at her again. But there was no movement, the black arachnid merely laid still, unharmed and inert. She looked at it curiously, cautiously circling around it, waiting for it to move.

"Huh?"

[Othniel]

Forest, Before Dawn

"No, you should put that one back, sister. It is poisonous to almost anything that eats it," Ihrmiel replied, a slight smile playing over her face. "And not one of the poisons that are helpful in small doses, save for exterminating vermin." The two were walking through the forest in the predawn hours, Ihrmiel on the search for useful plants she might transplant to the Old World. She knew not what manner of growths they would find there, and she believed it would be prudent to come as prepared as possible. "With more practice, you could learn the more useful plants."

Gardens, Dawn

Ihrmiel smiled at the sound of her sister's voice. "You are always welcome, Kyra," she replied. "The water is cold, but refreshing. Come, sit with me, and greet the new day."

[DoomHat]

Ulven strode confidently through the halls of the manse, sniffing the air as he went. He made no attempt to hide himself, which was his usual sign that he was comfortable being social. The appearance of the Imsin's ship filled him with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the opportunity to see the larger world was a thrilling prospect. Seeking and discovering new creatures, landmarks, and (above all) hiding places was his greatest joy. On the other hand, it bothered him that he might leave so much unseen on the Furthest Shore while it still lasted.

The presence of the Sealed Tower was always an unscratchable itch to Ulven. He'd lurked the whole of the manse, poking every brick, squeezing through every crawlspace. He'd discovered many mementos, treasures, and trophies left behind, presumably by Treogh as a reword for cleverness in discovering the secret passages and hideaways. The easiest was Treogh's Throne, but Ulven noticed some signs of disturbance indicating that he was not the first child to have checked.

But in all that, he never discovered a hidden way to access the Sealed Tower. Now time was running out. He couldn't finish the work on his own, he'd need to reach out make to one last grand effort at breaking into it. Of course, most of the other godlings wouldn't understand the importance of the task.

He had to find Vega, Stygen, and Memoria. They alone would doubtless have both the skill and instinct to help him unravel the manse's final mystery.

Finally, Ulven caught Stygen's scent! She'd made her way outside, to the garden. Along the way he also caught traces of Memoria, she was out there too, somewhere, but Stygen was already within sight. He'd do his best to recruit her first.

Not an easy task. Ulven hated... words. Where he could he preferred to rely on meaningful grunts and gestures. This would require forming complete sentences, but, it would be worth it. He approach the tree Stygen was sitting under. He was trying not to lurk, but still moved from shadow to shadow, under and around objects in the path, because open ground just felt uncomfortable and somehow unsafe.

When he was finally upon her, he moved to just within view around the tree's edge, gathered his thoughts, and said, "Urrn. Um. Hmm." then coughed a little.

[Snowfire]

Gardens, Dawn

"Thanks." Kyra replied as she stepped into the stream, shivering as the cool water touched her skin. Often she'd been entirely discouraged from talking to her sister in the mornings simply due to this barrier that she'd seen between them. But today it wasn't a barrier, it was a connection. And it really wasn't that cold.

Ihrmiel would certainly hear the careful steps through the water, as her sister did her best to move without splashing. No doubt her clothes too would be wet, but if she'd expected what came when the sounds of parting water faded into the soft patter of flesh on stone was anyone's guess. Kyra sunk down behind and slightly to one side of the younger godling, and then reached out to pull her into a hug. And the world around them...shifted.

Once again, Ihrmiel would recognise Kyra's touch in the shifting, as she reached for the edge of fragile reality and rummaged into its outward appearance. Dawn was always a time that seemed false compared to the glorious landscapes of an Old World sunrise that Imsin had once shown them, amidst a sea of twilight there was little to separate the days. But there were some things, some fragile remnants of the past, and Kyra chose to make this dawn something special. Something that would be remembered, if only she and her sister would see it. Perhaps those nearby in the Garden would be affected by the gentle alteration to reality, would see as they did. But that was at the edge of Kyra's mind as she wove red and orange and purple-gold into the air before them, bringing to life the memory as best she could of the Old World's beauty. She'd had lessons from Laelia, and she was still a pupil very much lacking when compared to her. But here and now...well...she hoped that her working would be enough.

"Hope is golden," she said wistfully, hugging her sister close. "I can't even remember who told me that. But I think they were right." Talking of memories was rare with Kyra, for more often than not they prompted sadness and tears. Yet here and now she sounded only wistful, and perhaps under that...hopeful?

[Kasanip]

Vega and Memoria

"What are you doing?" The curious and soft voice from behind broke through the moment of memories. Silver eyes, a long ponytail and a curious freckled face of course belonged to Vega, who currently was watching with arms resting on the wall. A gentle breeze ruffles her red and white embroidered tunic but doesn't upset her curls. Her presence announced, she walked forward smoothly on the stone tiles. For Vega who was usually content to wait silently, today even her spying seemed restless.
"I was going to follow the path to the ship, but I saw your feet dancing from below." She explained, peering past Memoria at her book.
"So, I thought I would climb up here and see." Vega finished her explanation in her usual way. She looked at Memoria with piercing eyes and a small turned mouth of concern. Her blunt curiosity waited expectantly as if to say "Are you sad?"

Vega and Amoros

Sitting up suddenly it was almost the collision with Vega's ponytail, but she stepped back and retreated behind the nearby vegetables, her sandals scattering faintly the dirt in small impressions. A moment before she was peering down at Amoros, wondering why he was sleeping. For her cousin who was handsome, the expression on his face had of course brought her from her trip.
Restlessly she had thought about touching his nose, but before it could happen, he had awoken.
"I think it was already on the ship." She tried to answer helpfully.
"I was walking by." She explained. Of course, Vega's explanation always was happenstance.
"You looked strange sleeping here." She continued in her blunt curiosity with fumbling words. Her regarding with silver eyes seemed to ask "Are you worried?"

Vega and Rize and Ruyn

The spectacle of Qure-Inaria's scream and reaction was awe-inspiring.
"Wow." Vega's whispered voice contained awe at the sight seen with her silver eyes. From behind Rize and Ruyn's hiding place, she also was laying prone with hands on her arms. Some small branches and leaves were in her long hair and tunic, but she seemed only interested in watching the twins and Qure-Inaria's reactions.
Although sometimes she could find Ruyn and Rize when they were playing mischievously, it was better not to reveal their actions to the others. In this way she was sworn to secrecy if she was caught by them. If she didn't, surely they would play a trick on her next time. However, it was always fun to watch, even if she couldn't understand the creative and cunning methods of Rize and Ruyn.
"I heard a certain laugh when I was walking." She explained in the usual way, to be revealed now to Rize and Ruyn. Fighting the small smile on her face, she tried to not laugh.
"I thought maybe it would be a joke, so I started to watch, too." How long had she been watching? Restlessly she had revealed herself, even though it was better to stay silent. It was hard to not to laugh.

[5ColouredWalker]

Vega and Memoria
Memoria knew Vega well enough to pick out the slight turn... Concern. She did have to banish the image though, which she did after one final smudging of the charcoal.

"I'm fine sister in nature." It was a term Memoria enjoyed. They both watched after all, Vega even had her own book, though no one knew what she wrote in it...
"I know to the others it might sound stange, but I'm about to go and do my duty. How could I not find joy... I simply feel it's best to record this final moment."
Memoria set her book down beside her, patting the roof by her other side.
"Ismin told stories about how gods took to a general nature, and how their interactions with the world changed them... They weren't... Perverted, merely finalised... I wonder how mine will change, how everyone's will change... It'll be interesting seeing the roles us watcher's take on... Stygen will no doubt become a manipulator, watching and improving how we go from what she's seen, she always seeks to understand, and I think improving will go one better. I was made to record and set to it, so I doubt I'll change much, but you..."
Memoria drifted off again, as she tends to, now looking out to the sea.

"I'm... Introspective... But what about you, what has you watching the watcher?"

[Dannir]

Stygen, seeing another of her siblings walk up to Ihrmiel. Well, if she was going to speak, that was out of the question for the time being...

She was about to get up, and try to find somewhere else to go, when she heard her brother try to get her attention. She turns her head to him, and blinks. "Uh? Hi there, Ulven. Is there something you need?" She asks him, hopping up on her feet. "I mean, there probably is... Unless I haven't noticed you becoming more open lately... I actually could have missed that." She frowns as she admits it. She really did need to talk to the others at least a bit, before they left, didn't she?

"I mean, whatever you need, if I can actually help, I'll probably try. It's not like I even have anything better to do..."

[daelrog]

Gronz woke up in a field. He rubbed his eyes, and ran his hand through his tussled hair. It wasn't until after he yawned that he bothered to actually open his eyes. He felt a tugging inside his heart, but dismissed it. Probably was just gassy from all the drinking from the night before. It usually made him restless, want to fight, want to conquer, want to do something.

Ah, so that's what it was. Recognition sunk in as he understood implicitly that they'd be leaving soon. Good. It wasn't that he didn't love this place, but it was boring. Not enough danger, not enough uncertainty, and he wanted to see what else was out there. Perhaps that was something he had gained from his mother, the desire to travel and see more. As he stood up he realized he was missing his shirt. No matter, he still had his pants, which was good enough. Gronz's muscle protested as he stretched, it felt like a tiny fire was lit in each of them, but it was a welcome pain, feeling the blood of gods coarse through his body. He knew not what to compare it to, but as he understood it, it made him better than others who were in the land beyond. He could live with that.

Gronz didn't need to pack for the journey ahead. He had nothing to pack save what he could carry. A wineskin, and some dried meals were sufficient to him. He could find anything else he needed. It didn't, or perhaps couldn't, cross his mind that he should be more prepared for the trials ahead.

Gronz started to meander around the island, with little to do, and without much a care in the world.

[HalfTangible]

Vega and Amoros

Sitting up suddenly it was almost the collision with Vega's ponytail, but she stepped back and retreated behind the nearby vegetables, her sandals scattering faintly the dirt in small impressions. A moment before she was peering down at Amoros, wondering why he was sleeping. For her cousin who was handsome, the expression on his face had of course brought her from her trip.
Restlessly she had thought about touching his nose, but before it could happen, he had awoken.
"I think it was already on the ship." She tried to answer helpfully.
"I was walking by." She explained. Of course, Vega's explanation always was happenstance.
"You looked strange sleeping here." She continued in her blunt curiosity with fumbling words. Her regarding with silver eyes seemed to ask "Are you worried?"Amoros's robe had opened slightly as he rustled awake, leaving his torso half-exposed. He gave Vega a smile that would leave any mortal weak at the knees as he tied up his robe. He always enjoyed talking with his cousin - she kept secrets, sure, but she was honest, and she had the cutest freckles. He patted the dirt next to him, inviting her to sit and talk for a while longer.

"We won't get much chance to rest like this down on that world, so I decided to get some while I still can." Amoros pointed out. "A deep breath before the plunge, as it were. Glad to know my pack is in place, at least."

"Are you worried?"

"Just a little. The world's messed up right now, but Irmin wouldn't be sending us there if it wasn't fixable. And we're born of the gods. Between the twenty-three of us, how can we fail?" A sly grin spread across his face, optimism sparkling in his blue eyes. "After all, it's not impossible. Only unfathomably difficult." The sparkle dimmed somewhat. "And what of you, Vega? ...Are you worried?"

[Jade_Tarem]

Koriah

"They're not." The godling groused, remembering the ironic end of her iron experiment. "Anyway, I have the casings set and ready. Copper and Bronze, oiled, lined, and set with leather around the grip and eyepiece so that we don't gouge ourselves. I got the resin this morning from the... resin-tree, I guess." That was another thing she was going to miss about this place when they went to the New World. "I'll leave the alignment to you."

[Tychris1]

Forest, Before Dawn

Qure-Inaria sneered at the fauna in her hand as Ihrmiel explained to her its nature. Dropping it onto the ground, she unceremoniously stepped over it and continued walking through the dark forest with her sister. Hearing a creak in the woods, she bobbed her head from side to side, eyes scanning in every direction as if awaiting some unknown predator. "I'll make sure that my pets don't eat them by accident then. Advise me then sister, what should I be looking for in the plant? Bright colors, sap, a strange aroma?" She had offered to aid her sister in her hunt for useful herbs, as a small way to bond with her before they left the Farthest Shore forever, but that didn't mean she was well versed in it. In truth she was more interested in enjoying the view and conversing with her sister, and any excuse to do so was good enough for Qure-Inaria.

"I love it when it's dark out, everything feels so different even though it's exactly the same."

[Othniel]

Forest, Before Dawn

"There are many different kinds of plants, and only experimentation and study will make you familiar with them," Ihrmiel responded. "You could look for nettles, though you must take care handling them. Look for a plant roughly one-to-four feet in height. They have small green clusters of flowers, but stinging hairs on the serrated leaves. If you make tea out of the stems, leaves, and roots, you can use them to treat stomach ailments. The leaves are also useful in cleaning infected wounds." Ihrmiel paused to look at Qure-Inaria, as a teacher to a student. "I have a catalog of the plants found on our shores, should you wish to look through it. It is far from complete, of course, but I shall bring it with, and intend to transplant as many of the useful plants back to the Old World as I may."

Gardens, Dawn

Ihrmiel inhaled sharply as the illusion took form before her, or in her mind. She wasn't sure which was the case, but it was real enough. Her smile broadened into a look of pure delight at the display, and she rested her head upon her sister's shoulder. "Yes, they were right. I think there will be much to fix in the Old World. Things to repair, heal, or even replace. I believe we will need that hope," she said. "I...do not trust some of the others. Some of them make me uncomfortable." A long pause, and then quietly, "Kyra, when we reach the Old World, will you watch the dawn with me?"

[Gengy]

"AAAAAAAAAAYEEEEE!"

The bloodcurdling scream that erupted from her throat was so loud that it echoed far and wide away from the forest, a banshee's wail so full of fright that it sent what few rodents remained fleeing in every direction. Her robe fell to the ground, slowly deflating as if the air that now filled her place took a second to realize she had evacuated it. Feathers exploded in every direction, blowing with the sudden gust of wind that was created by her spontaneous ejection. Even a few strands of hair had fallen down to the ground from how quickly she had jumped, branches bending and leaves rustling as Qure-Inaria leaped up to the top of the nearest tree. Clutching its trunk with her arms and legs, she squeezed her naked shivering body against it with all her might, as if it were the only thing holding her down to this earth. Eyes bulging, she looked around erratically to find her attacker somewhere down amidst her robes, only to realize in a flash of strung-out insight that the eight legged monster was stuck between her bosom. Releasing her grip on the trunk, Qure-Inaria flung herself away from the tree and landed back onto the earth with a resounding THUD.

"GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF."

She cringed as she saw the spider fall to the ground only a stones throw away from her and held her hands up in a defensive position, preparing to viciously strike it down if it tried to crawl at her again. But there was no movement, the black arachnid merely laid still, unharmed and inert. She looked at it curiously, cautiously circling around it, waiting for it to move.

"Huh?"

The spider vanishes; not by scampering away, but by shimmering, as though made of light. In it's place is a pebble. From high up above, peals of laughter came from Rize and Ruyn, and they both hugged each other in mirth. The spider had been a rock, made to look like a critter by Rize's illusions, and floating around by a minor bit of elemental control on Ruyn's part.

"GetitoffGetitoffGetitoffGetitoff!" The twins screamed in between laughter. They were laughing so hard, they fell from their perch on the tree branches, hitting the ground with a loud thud. The laughter stopped for half a moment, and there was a whisper.

"Zee. You... heh. Hehe. You all right?"

"Yeah, Wye. I'm, ha-ha, fine." The twins sat up, and looked over at Qure-Inaria. As one, they both began to laugh again. It started to die down some. Then Rize looked at Ruyn, and the short-haired older twin raised his arms up in an exact copy of the defensive posture Qure-Inaria was holding, and the twins lost it all over again. There were tears in their eyes, and Ruyn was pounding the ground with his fist, to try and dispel some of the extra energy he had from all this laughter.

Finally - finally - they both had enough that they could speak again, and back to back, they sat, looking over at their sister. "What's the matter, Qurrie?"

"You look like you ran face first..." Ruyn snickered, before continuing, "...into a spider's web."

The twins lost it again.


Vega and Rize and Ruyn

The spectacle of Qure-Inaria's scream and reaction was awe-inspiring.
"Wow." Vega's whispered voice contained awe at the sight seen with her silver eyes. From behind Rize and Ruyn's hiding place, she also was laying prone with hands on her arms. Some small branches and leaves were in her long hair and tunic, but she seemed only interested in watching the twins and Qure-Inaria's reactions.
Although sometimes she could find Ruyn and Rize when they were playing mischievously, it was better not to reveal their actions to the others. In this way she was sworn to secrecy if she was caught by them. If she didn't, surely they would play a trick on her next time. However, it was always fun to watch, even if she couldn't understand the creative and cunning methods of Rize and Ruyn.
"I heard a certain laugh when I was walking." She explained in the usual way, to be revealed now to Rize and Ruyn. Fighting the small smile on her face, she tried to not laugh.
"I thought maybe it would be a joke, so I started to watch, too." How long had she been watching? Restlessly she had revealed herself, even though it was better to stay silent. It was hard to not to laugh.

"Vega!" The twins practically jumped from their sitting position on the ground, as they looked up at their cousin. How Vega had managed to sneak up into a nearby tree without the twins noticing was a shock to both of them.

"Look, Qurrie," Rize began, and Ruyn finished, "There was a witness!"

"Now you can't say,"

"We didn't get you good!"

"So Vega, what did you think?" Rize grinned, while - almost strategically - backing away from Qure-Inaria.

Ruyn followed, getting closer to the tree that Vega was hiding in. Which also put him further away from his half-sister. "Yes, Qure-Inaria has a lovely shriek, doesn't she?"

[Snowfire]

Gardens, Dawn

"Of course I will, Ihrmiel." Kyra replied just as gently, moving back a little so she had space to move her hands around to start separating her sister's dark hair. She was lucky that this was one skill that she'd practiced enough to never really forget, given how long it had been since she'd actually done it. "I'll watch the first Dawn after we arrive there with you, if you like." She tutted good-naturedly as her careful fingers caught on a twig. "You know sis, there's a reason we were given hairbrushes." She extracted the twig and set about clearing the tangle that it had caused.

"I do," she paused, pursing her lips in concentration as she was confronted by another tangle. "Um...I do agree with you, you know. Some of our cousins...I worry. Maybe I worry too much, she did her best to conceal the sharp pain at the edge of her voice as she admitted that, but it was probably futile. Even when distracted, her little sister had a way of knowing things.

"We're all of the same, yet so very different. So many of us look to the Old World as a place to be rebuilt, I know you see it as a place that can be healed. And I think, I hope, that that's so. But some...some I don't know what they see." She sighed, fingers drawing out the long locks of hair down Ihrmiel's back and then beginning the more complicated operation of turning them into something more elegant than loose strands. "Is it like that for you? Or is it something else?"

Simple was probably best, now that she considered it, it had been a long time. But a single braid was just boring, so two would have to be enough.

"Do you have your clasp?" she asked abruptly. "I'd like to try and make this a little special." It's been long enough since I did it for you, she added unsaid.

[Kasanip]

Vega and Memoria
If Memoria was a watcher, then Vega was a peeker and listener. She listened to troubles or worries or concerns or secrets.
Vega approached Memoria and lowered to sit by her. However, instead of to let her feet freely hang, she pulled her knees up to her chest. Resting this way was more comfortable than to risk falling. She rested her cheek on her knees. Regarding the view, she looked sideways at Memoria.
It was always impressive to Vega how Memoria had considered and planned far ahead. That was admired. Or maybe she was just worried and wondering? Vega could understand that. What role does a watcher have?
"I think I would like to stay together. With everyone. I want to see what Stygen does. I am curious to see what you do, too." She spoke more words than usual. Maybe it was her restlessness?
"I think it will be interesting. I can't wait to see many things. But..."
Saying in this way, her silver eyes flashed to Memoria's, as if to say "I don't know how I will change. Do you?"

Vega and Amoros
Vega approached cautiously. It was difficult to talk to Amoros usually in the self-conscious way. But she sat beside him. Vega pulled her knees up to her chest. She watched him with curious silver eyes above freckles like starry patterns. Usually in this quiet way with her presence and expressions she could share calm and quiet moments. Only the shifting of her toes in her sandals was a showing of her restlessness.
A messy world. Was that the concern of Amoros? Vega couldn't understand. Usually it was Zersetzen who was concerned about messes. However, to watch Amoros, it wasn't hard to understand. Appearance and beauty were important. Somehow, that was a self-conscious thought for Vega. It was hard not to watch Amoros. However, she didn't think about being watched very often.

Vega's expression became surprised. To ask if she was worried, it was a surprise. Her mouth became a thoughtful line.
"I don't think I am worried." She said after a short time. Only restless feet showed her true feelings.
"I hope we can stay together." She blurted out the words.
"Everyone, together. I don't know if things will be difficult."
But only her eyes could say "I don't know what I should pack before we go."

[HalfTangible]

Vega and Amoros
Vega approached cautiously. It was difficult to talk to Amoros usually in the self-conscious way. But she sat beside him. Vega pulled her knees up to her chest. She watched him with curious silver eyes above freckles like starry patterns. Usually in this quiet way with her presence and expressions she could share calm and quiet moments. Only the shifting of her toes in her sandals was a showing of her restlessness.
A messy world. Was that the concern of Amoros? Vega couldn't understand. Usually it was Zersetzen who was concerned about messes. However, to watch Amoros, it wasn't hard to understand. Appearance and beauty were important. Somehow, that was a self-conscious thought for Vega. It was hard not to watch Amoros. However, she didn't think about being watched very often.

Vega's expression became surprised. To ask if she was worried, it was a surprise. Her mouth became a thoughtful line.
"I don't think I am worried." She said after a short time. Only restless feet showed her true feelings.
"I hope we can stay together." She blurted out the words.
"Everyone, together. I don't know if things will be difficult."
But only her eyes could say "I don't know what I should pack before we go."

"I imagine we'll stick together at first, at least. We're all in the same boat after all." He smirked at his own pun. "Even if we don't, though, it's not like we'll be alone. There are mortals down there too. And if anyone will know where to find all of us, it'd be you... or Memoria, but also you." Amoros wasn't sure if Vega even wanted him to bring up that she was evidently restless. She liked her secrets, after all, and kept them closely guarded to her heart. Vega wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic about this trip - he should try to make it easier for her...

"Do you want help packing?"

[5ColouredWalker]

Vega and Memoria
If Memoria was a watcher, then Vega was a peeker and listener. She listened to troubles or worries or concerns or secrets.
Vega approached Memoria and lowered to sit by her. However, instead of to let her feet freely hang, she pulled her knees up to her chest. Resting this way was more comfortable than to risk falling. She rested her cheek on her knees. Regarding the view, she looked sideways at Memoria.
It was always impressive to Vega how Memoria had considered and planned far ahead. That was admired. Or maybe she was just worried and wondering? Vega could understand that. What role does a watcher have?
"I think I would like to stay together. With everyone. I want to see what Stygen does. I am curious to see what you do, too." She spoke more words than usual. Maybe it was her restlessness?
"I think it will be interesting. I can't wait to see many things. But..."
Saying in this way, her silver eyes flashed to Memoria's, as if to say "I don't know how I will change. Do you?"

Vega and Memoria
"You cannot be sure if they'll be wonderful or disheatening. And how would you respond if it was a world of violence, or we return to a place that is as swept clean as it is large... Will the Serpent still be nearby and ready to act before we finish growing?"
Maria looks down on the shore as she begins coming up with reasons, her face oddly serene for what she proposes.
"I know this much... The world is a large place, we shall not walk together long as we find ourselves and see to our tasks, but we're family, we will always come together. Even for Ms. Vulture." Memoria smiles slightly at her appellation for Qure-Inaria... Yet despite her smiling face and tone, one can't help but notice she hasn't pointed out a single good possibility.

[DoomHat]

"I mean, whatever you need, if I can actually help, I'll probably try. It's not like I even have anything better to do..."

Ulven smiled brightly at those words.

His slammed his heavy fist into his meaty palm and said, "Good! This is good. Time's running out. We all leave soon, but the island has one mystery left, one last place to explore. You know the one. We need to find a way in. Imsin might show us before we leave anyway, but then he might not, but no fun either way, right?

I want to go find Memoria and Vega too, they also have our blood, they'll know this is important! Come with me! You... you have the words to convince them! Leaving a place unknown before we go would be... wrong!"

[TechnOkami]

Sulh

Even if he did not realize it at first, this tranquil garden did not bring him peace. Hearing the shrill scream of his avian sister and pearls of laughter from the more... volatile of his brothers did not aid in this effort. With no better option before him, he arose from his seated position and made his way through the gardens, out the entrance and onto one of many paths that snaked throughout the complex.
One such path, one of circular stones composed of smaller stones, provided him the path that would lead him towards one of two destinations, his naked feet having any notes of tension rubbed out by his quiet strolling. His alabaster tunic billowed behind him, and curly raven hair swayed in kindred response.



Sulh stood before a door of chiseled stone, featureless and shaded somewhat by the stonework around the entrance. This door was attached to a star-bleached tower of milky rock, with nary a single facet about it save for the facts that it rose and ended some distance upwards. It was smooth and soft, like a piece of wood rubbed over and over by fine-tooth sandpaper.

It was a marvel to behold, and wondrous in its solemn presence. But within the door was no keyhole, no handle. It's true there was a door of some kind, for the shape of one that tapered towards the top of its enterance was clearly chiseled before him, but no amount of pushing, poking, prodding, teasing or working amounted to any results. He had watched his sister Koriah attempt entry with her knowledge of craftsmanship, but not even she could break open the secret place of their dear mother Iona. Nothing she did even did so much as hint at marring the door; it remained as smooth and complete as the day it was finished.

An egg with gold inside, but no way within.

Sulh walked to the theoretical entrance, turned and rested himself upon the door, leaning. Slowly, with the deliberation of a purposeful exhale, he slid down against it until he sat squarely between where the two doors would part way. He closed his eyes once more, and let his mind rove and wander. He listened to the crashing of the sea, the cries of gulls above. He could taste the salt upon his lips, the parching of his throat. It relieved his worrying mind, and offered a small measure of peace. It did not, however, quell him.

He was not sure what would.

[Nefarion Xid]

Koriah & Calenthiel

Calenthiel sat down and began the delicate task of fitting the lenses within the spyglass's casing. He rambled while he worked. "Perhaps this is why your eyes feel strained after reading. The process of emission is like any other of the body: use of our eyes beggars the same energy with which we move our muscles. Perhaps that is why we eventually tire and must sleep! The act of seeing exhausts us."

With the spyglasses completed, he rose and passed one to Koriah for her approval. "It all makes sense, as Imsin said. I suppose."

The dismay that his teacher had perhaps been less than perfect began to show on his face. He continues, "Though isn't the alternative fascinating and alluringly parsimonious? Hm? Light, object, light, eye. Light shines. Shone upon is the world. Light delivers. And we... well, we wait in the dark for some good news from outside our own heads."

He smirked in the wry, mirthless way he did when he thought he was being clever and lifted the spyglass to his eye to gaze out into the mists.

[Othniel]

Gardens, Dawn

"Of course I will, Ihrmiel." Kyra replied just as gently, moving back a little so she had space to move her hands around to start separating her sister's dark hair. She was lucky that this was one skill that she'd practiced enough to never really forget, given how long it had been since she'd actually done it. "I'll watch the first Dawn after we arrive there with you, if you like." She tutted good-naturedly as her careful fingers caught on a twig. "You know sis, there's a reason we were given hairbrushes." She extracted the twig and set about clearing the tangle that it had caused.

"I do," she paused, pursing her lips in concentration as she was confronted by another tangle. "Um...I do agree with you, you know. Some of our cousins...I worry. Maybe I worry too much, she did her best to conceal the sharp pain at the edge of her voice as she admitted that, but it was probably futile. Even when distracted, her little sister had a way of knowing things.

"We're all of the same, yet so very different. So many of us look to the Old World as a place to be rebuilt, I know you see it as a place that can be healed. And I think, I hope, that that's so. But some...some I don't know what they see." She sighed, fingers drawing out the long locks of hair down Ihrmiel's back and then beginning the more complicated operation of turning them into something more elegant than loose strands. "Is it like that for you? Or is it something else?"

Simple was probably best, now that she considered it, it had been a long time. But a single braid was just boring, so two would have to be enough.

"Do you have your clasp?" she asked abruptly. "I'd like to try and make this a little special." It's been long enough since I did it for you, she added unsaid.

Gardens, Dawn

"Hairbrushes...I think they're in my room somewhere," Ihrmiel said with a quiet laugh. "I was in the forest with Qure-Inaria," she explained. "She was helping me finish collecting plants for the voyage. I got my hair caught in some branches, but neglected to check to see if I picked up any flora." Ihrmiel remained as still as possible while the elder sister went through her hair. Remaining motionless was difficult for her unless she had something to concentrate on, such as experimenting with her herbal mixtures and medicines, and interest she shared with her other sibling, Zersetzen. Sandals were not something Ihrmiel wore willingly, and she preferred to walk or run freely, bare feet splashing in the water, sinking into the sand, or flitting through the grass as she explored or visited family in their various haunts around the Island. These mornings of waiting for the dawn, or at least the semblance of it that reached the Farthest Shore, were an exercise in patience as much as a ritual for the godling, but thus far she had been unable to carry the patience to most other parts of her life. Still, she resisted the urge to shake her hair free from Kyra's hands, laugh, and splash her sister with water. Kyra hadn't braided her hair in a long time, and the younger sibling was delighted at the opportunity to repair some of the damage in the sisters' relationship.

Ihrmiel had fallen silent when Kyra had asked her about her thoughts of the others and only the question about her hair clasp startled her out of her reverie. "Oh, yes; I have it," she said, digging into a pocket on the outside of her herb-satchel. Ihrmiel withdrew a small clasp of wrought metal, one of the few treasures the godling owned that were made by hand, a gift from her sister in days past. Ihrmiel surmised it had been crafted by one of the others, though she wasn't sure who, or what Kyra had offered in return. "I have always kept it close, dear Kyra," she said, and pressed it into her sister's hands. "So that I always have something of you with me. I always wondered where you obtained it though." Things of metal were not easily understood by Ihrmiel, and they often felt foreign, unlike the clothing she wore, or the leathern herb-satchel she carried, both items made from either natural fibres or animal skin. "I don't know what makes me pause about some of the others; perhaps it is just a feeling that some desire not restoration of the Old World, but subjugation...as in the stories Imsin told of kings lording their wealth and status over their people."

[Dannir]

Ulven smiled brightly at those words.

His slammed his heavy fist into his meaty palm and said, "Good! This is good. Time's running out. We all leave soon, but the island has one mystery left, one last place to explore. You know the one. We need to find a way in. Imsin might show us before we leave anyway, but then he might not, but no fun either way, right?

I want to go find Memoria and Vega too, they also have our blood, they'll know this is important! Come with me! You... you have the words to convince them! Leaving a place unknown before we go would be... wrong!"

Stygen stares at Ulven and blinks, as she doesn't quite immediately understand what he's talking about. After taking a few seconds to think it through, however, she finally gets it. "Oh! You mean all those sealed towers? Well... I wouldn't call them unknown exactly - I think I know what they're for. Well, what they were for, anyway." She states, scratching her neck. "I'm fairly sure those were our parents' homes. It makes sense: There's thirteen of them, and if you count Imsin, there were thirteen of them... Plus, only Imsin's isn't sealed. The others must have been locked when they left..." She extrapolates, but then stops, chuckling softly.

"Ah, but you probably want to see for yourself, not listen to my theories, uh? Well... Mind you, we probably shouldn't. I mean, they're probably sealed for a good reason..." she starts, her mood deflating slightly as she goes on. Then, though, it hit her. Her brother was right. They might not have another chance to see it. Besides, what else was she going to do, keep moping about something she couldn't change? No, there truly was more wisdom in doing what Ulven was. "...Oh, it doesn't matter. Imsin probably expected at some of us to make a serious attempt at entering those ages ago, knowing him. Well then, let's find the others!" She concludes.

She then starts walking, no, almost bouncing ahead like a weight had been, for a time at least, lifted from her, before suddenly stopping once again. "Oh, uh..." She looks at Ulven, with an embarassed smile. "Uhm, I should let you lead the way. You're better at finding people than I am."

[DoomHat]

She then starts walking, no, almost bouncing ahead like a weight had been, for a time at least, lifted from her, before suddenly stopping once again. "Oh, uh..." She looks at Ulven, with an embarassed smile. "Uhm, I should let you lead the way. You're better at finding people than I am."

Ulven blushed slightly at the compliment, nodded his head briskly, grunted an affirmation, and began to move. He scrambled up the tree they'd been sitting under to get a better view and sniff at the open air. He caught a faint scent, but was confused. He'd gotten the impression she was outside earlier, but now it seemed she was, outside, but at the manse.

"Tower ledge." he said, just loud enough for Stygen's benefit.

He scrambled back down, letting gravity do most of the work, and tromped off at a brisk walk into the halls of the manse. He didn't look back to check that Stygen was following, he just trusted she was. It wasn't long before he found Memoria, and Vega next to her, as he first checked the places he knew Memoria normally preferred to travel and loiter.

Ulven stopped, examined his surrounds for unexpected people or traps, and grunted happily, "Hey.".

[Snowfire]

Gardens, Dawn

"Hairbrushes...I think they're in my room somewhere," Ihrmiel said with a quiet laugh. "I was in the forest with Qure-Inaria," she explained. "She was helping me finish collecting plants for the voyage. I got my hair caught in some branches, but neglected to check to see if I picked up any flora." Ihrmiel remained as still as possible while the elder sister went through her hair. Remaining motionless was difficult for her unless she had something to concentrate on, such as experimenting with her herbal mixtures and medicines, and interest she shared with her other sibling, Zersetzen. Sandals were not something Ihrmiel wore willingly, and she preferred to walk or run freely, bare feet splashing in the water, sinking into the sand, or flitting through the grass as she explored or visited family in their various haunts around the Island. These mornings of waiting for the dawn, or at least the semblance of it that reached the Farthest Shore, were an exercise in patience as much as a ritual for the godling, but thus far she had been unable to carry the patience to most other parts of her life. Still, she resisted the urge to shake her hair free from Kyra's hands, laugh, and splash her sister with water. Kyra hadn't braided her hair in a long time, and the younger sibling was delighted at the opportunity to repair some of the damage in the sisters' relationship.

Ihrmiel had fallen silent when Kyra had asked her about her thoughts of the others and only the question about her hair clasp startled her out of her reverie. "Oh, yes; I have it," she said, digging into a pocket on the outside of her herb-satchel. Ihrmiel withdrew a small clasp of wrought metal, one of the few treasures the godling owned that were made by hand, a gift from her sister in days past. Ihrmiel surmised it had been crafted by one of the others, though she wasn't sure who, or what Kyra had offered in return. "I have always kept it close, dear Kyra," she said, and pressed it into her sister's hands. "So that I always have something of you with me. I always wondered where you obtained it though." Things of metal were not easily understood by Ihrmiel, and they often felt foreign, unlike the clothing she wore, or the leathern herb-satchel she carried, both items made from either natural fibres or animal skin. "I don't know what makes me pause about some of the others; perhaps it is just a feeling that some desire not restoration of the Old World, but subjugation...as in the stories Imsin told of kings lording their wealth and status over their people."

Gardens, Dawn

"I'm glad at least a part of me was able to stay close to you," Kyra said, squeezing her sister's hands within her own as she took the clasp, smiling wistfully. She could actually feel how hard Ihrmiel was concentrating on staying still, and the reason was easy to find. She'd hoped for nothing less, but it was heartening to see that hope be made real. It reminded her of younger days. She pulled together strands of hair around the crown of her sister's head, deftly weaving two braids from either side to meet in the middle. Slipping the clasp over them, she continued the braid down, falling silent as she concentrated on this far more complex weave.

Thankfully it was only a short one, and she looped a strand of fiber around to hold it steady whilst she added the final touches. So much for being simple, she thought with a smile.

"Some see subjugation as a restoration, sister, it is how they see the world." Two more braids this time, much thinner and lower down the head, to hold the long curtain of loose hair and mold it to her sister's shoulders. They went around the thicker weave, underneath the band of soft fabric, and she sat back carefully, mindful of catching any loose strands. "Yet even though a part of my mind would like to accept their ideas as simply their own...my heart, as yours, does not agree. I doubt it ever could." She scooted herself around the rock so that she could look at her sister properly and brushed a few errant strands of dark hair away from her cheeks.

"We are sisters of the heart, Ihrmiel. We do not see the allure of trappings, wealth or power. Those things have a place within us, but very different things hold our centers. And yet from Ismin's stories, there were many who made up the courts that our parents were part of. Some sought subjugation, some sought power. But they were tempted by judgement called by compassion." She was reciting now, part of an old tale. "It was judgement, the holding of a common law even among Gods, that held the courts together more than simply the power of those who led them. And it is that...I think it is that which we lack between us all."

She shook her head once again. "But maybe my fears will be wrong. In the end we can only," her voice caught, "hope."

[mystic1110]

The blade was quenched in the cold ice water.

Onori's black armor laid on the floor, and she was dressed in a white shirt almost see through, drenched in sweat. Her body was a rippling mass of muscle and her hair cut so short that even heavy with her exertion it did not cover her cold grey eyes. Onori lifted the blade from the water and examined her handy work. The five thousand and twenty eighth law, that was in the seventy sixth of the seventy seventh volume of cannon, of her fore-bearers was writ on it - engraved in the bronze. She took her calloused hands and rubbed the blade and her handiwork, memorizing the contours and the feel of this law - "Thou shall not eat the meat of the snake."

Onori, then placed the blade down and picked up a set of heavy tongs and grabbed the blade with them. She inserted it back into the flames of the forge, and watched the metal take on its red glow and melt into a thick liquid. The law engraved onto it lost its shape - and was no more. But to Onori it was still there - along with the other five thousand and twenty seventh laws that she had engraved into the sword. She had memorized all the laws of the old world. As she engraved them into this sword over and over she inscribed them each into her heart. The old world would have grown unruly like an untended bramble bush. It was for her and her brethren to return with Law.

Yes, as she beat the law into this blade and reforged it, and quenched it over and over again, she realized that many of the laws were contradictory. Some seemed whimsical - but they were all the result of the hard earned wisdom of the Old Gods. Each law had a history, each had come from an attempt to save and persevere, each a foundation of the world.

Onori pulled out the blade now malleable from the forge's heart, and used her finger, which was so calloused and used to the touch of the searing bronze, that it was like a chisel, to inscribe the last law, a law that, inscribed on her heart, would strangle it in time - numbered five thousand and twenty nine, or the seventy seventh law of the seventy seventh volume of the Gods - "Thou shall not make plowshares until the Snake is dead."

The sword was quenched and dried, but Onori once again took out the black tongs and placed the blade back into the fire. Once again she beat the engraving into the blade until it was not there except in the her own memory and in the memory of the bronze itself.

This accomplished - a task that had consumed her time from her brethren, for she had studied all the laws of her Mother and the people, even the treatises on interpretation and books of precedence (a necessary matter, for example: one law spoke of abstaining from the juice of the fruits, but another spoke of indulging in the sexes of the tree) - she took her now plain sword, beaten a reforged seventy-seven times seventy-seven times, and her armor, each in one hand, and walked out of the forge.

She walked to the cold stream from where she had hauled the quenching water. She undressed further and quickly bathed in it - washing the results of her exertion in a frigid baptism. Afterwards she dried herself in the open air and watchful gaze of the sun. Finally, she dressed herself in her armor - the armor that all knew her by. It was as black as coal - not as black as shadow. Shadow is a velvet, a silky extravagance. This was merely black - a black that could be marred by dents and scratches and covered in dirt. A useful black. She placed the sword into her sheath - for even folded for as many times as she folded it - engraved in its heart with all the laws that ever were - it was not "the" sword, or a "Sword." It was just a sword.

And with that Onori began walking in the direction of the Old World carrying the law as a blade by her side.

[daelrog]

Gardens, Dawn

Kyra and Ihrmiel heard a loud belch behind them. It was Gronz, scratching an itch on his chest. "Gronz can do more than hope. Gronz can fight, and dance, and break many things." He stretched his neck out side to side. Half the philosophical ideas the gods expressed he didn't understand, the other half he tended to disagree with. Actions over words, the tangible over the intangible. That was Gronz.

"Hope is good too." He shrugged, looking up at the sky.

Give him a better mind, and their brother would have been quite the inspiring figure himself. Passionate, strong, he might've even been a leader among them if not for his painfully bland outlook on life. Perhaps one could find a simple charm to it, but it wasn't a view that could rally the children of the gods together.

[Jade_Tarem]

Koriah & Calenthiel

"As disturbing as the thought that no two people view the same objective reality is, I think that must be it." Koriah did not lift her spyglass right away, instead double-checking the fittings and leather bindings. When she was satisfied, she put hers to use as well, focusing on a different part of the mist, amused by the obvious metaphor inherent in their newfound tunnel vision. "I mean, the insides of your eyelids aren't black, but that's what you see when you close your eyes. If vision was based on vision-emissions, wouldn't you see the veins and fleshy bits instead?"

The mists remained as impenetrable as ever, though no surprise there. Koriah got bored with that quickly enough and swung her magnified gaze around to point down the crumbling edge of the cliffs. "And speaking of different viewpoints, did you know Laelia was coming this way?"

[Othniel]

Gardens, Dawn

"I'm glad at least a part of me was able to stay close to you," Kyra said, squeezing her sister's hands within her own as she took the clasp, smiling wistfully. She could actually feel how hard Ihrmiel was concentrating on staying still, and the reason was easy to find. She'd hoped for nothing less, but it was heartening to see that hope be made real. It reminded her of younger days. She pulled together strands of hair around the crown of her sister's head, deftly weaving two braids from either side to meet in the middle. Slipping the clasp over them, she continued the braid down, falling silent as she concentrated on this far more complex weave.

Thankfully it was only a short one, and she looped a strand of fiber around to hold it steady whilst she added the final touches. So much for being simple, she thought with a smile.

"Some see subjugation as a restoration, sister, it is how they see the world." Two more braids this time, much thinner and lower down the head, to hold the long curtain of loose hair and mold it to her sister's shoulders. They went around the thicker weave, underneath the band of soft fabric, and she sat back carefully, mindful of catching any loose strands. "Yet even though a part of my mind would like to accept their ideas as simply their own...my heart, as yours, does not agree. I doubt it ever could." She scooted herself around the rock so that she could look at her sister properly and brushed a few errant strands of dark hair away from her cheeks.

"We are sisters of the heart, Ihrmiel. We do not see the allure of trappings, wealth or power. Those things have a place within us, but very different things hold our centers. And yet from Ismin's stories, there were many who made up the courts that our parents were part of. Some sought subjugation, some sought power. But they were tempted by judgement called by compassion." She was reciting now, part of an old tale. "It was judgement, the holding of a common law even among Gods, that held the courts together more than simply the power of those who led them. And it is that...I think it is that which we lack between us all."

She shook her head once again. "But maybe my fears will be wrong. In the end we can only," her voice caught, "hope."

Gardens, Dawn

Ihrmiel nodded, falling silent. She stared at the vision of sunrise Kyra had altered, momentarily forgetting the illusion, as it finished its climb over the walls of the gardens. She inhaled deeply, thoroughly enjoying both the scenery and the company of her sister. It wouldn't be terrible to stay thus linger, but then she thought about all that had to be done in the short period of time before the godlings set sail for the Old World. All of them were hoping for something or another once they reached those shores. "Yes, hope is what we shall cling to, if all else is vain." Then, at the sound of speech behind the sisters, Ihrmiel turned to see Gronz standing behind them on the other side of the stream. She shook her head at his remark about breaking things. "I do not agree, Gronz. If something is broken, it should first be examined to see if restoration is possible. To do else is to squander the gift, for all that we have, even the things we make, are gifts of some form."

[Tychris1]

Forest, Before Dawn

"Nettles yes? I'll keep my eye out for them then." Qure-Inaria began to unravel her sleeves and stretch her arms out wide, feathers growing out from her shoulders and down the lengths of her outstretched limbs. Flapping up to a branch overhead, Qure-Inaria perched her bare feet and clutched the branch tightly. Yellow irises piercing the quite serenity of night, her skinny face sliding from side to side before finally zeroing in on what appeared to be fauna matching Ihrmiel's description. Swooping down she seized it swiftly in her hand, sharp nails cutting the stem at its base as she pried it loose from the earth. "Mmmm, yes, this will do nicely. Come Ihrmy, my natural born skills seem to extend farther then I imagined! Haha!" Waving her staff forward, she began to march forward, flower gripped firmly in her hand. Smiling a toothy grin at her sister, Qure-Inaria waited for her to catch up to her before tutting softly. Pinching her cheek, Qure-Inaria shook her sister a little while speaking to her softly "Sister I'm sure whatever you have recorded is more then enough."

Pranksters and Watchers

Qure-Inaria blushed as the truth of the deception was fully revealed to her. Standing up quickly she stomped her right foot down in a huff "You little red headed demons..." Scowling, she placed her hands on her hip, gnashing her teeth until she realized Vega was watching. Seeing the two twins slowly step away from her, she began to walk away as well. Qure-Inaria had realized now that she was fully exposed in front of three of her siblings, and though she had no shame over her body (In fact she took pride in it) it still felt odd being exposed and vulnerable. Sliding back into her robe, Qure-Inaria began to slowly loosen up, and even let out a short soft laugh "Ha ha ha. Alright, Zee and Wye you've truly pulled another one over me. You little rascals, I should have known you'd be involved in this, get over here." Stretching her arms out wide Qure-Inaria grabbed The Two Twins and pulled them in tight for a hug. This display of affection however quickly turned to a more mischievous nature as Qure-Inaria squeezed tighter and tighter until she was smothering the two twins and they began flailing about for air, at which point she released them and laughed herself.

Picking up her staff, Qure-Inaria kneeled down towards the ground, clicking her tongue softly and whistling a few high notes.

[Draken]

It is holding something small and white, a rabbit perhaps? Sick, by the looks of it, and how could it not, they are not creatures meant to live in filth.

That does summon a less than desirable memory for Zersetzen. Maybe Lorci can notice him frown beneath his hood, if it dare look up at him.

For his part, he just speeds up his pace to get through this hall faster, giving up only a few parting words.

"You should just let it be."

He is soon out of sight, the echo of his steps dying out from the distance.

[Dannir]

Stygen watches Ulven try to figure out where either Memoria or Vega might be curiously, wondering just how he does it. Unfortunately, she finds herself unable to figure it out by the time he jumps down the tree. Nodding as he states their destination, she follows his lead.

She gives her brother an appreciative look when they find their siblings rather quickly. She probably would have been wandering aimlessly until she found someone who'd seen them recently, herself.

After Ulven greets them in his concise manner, she waves to them. "Hey there! Uuh, I hope we're not interrupting anything!"

[daelrog]

The Gardens

Gronz scratched his head and shrugged at the comments. "There will be time to see." It was one of his usually ways to end a debate. Let's just see was almost a rallying cry for him. It matched his hands on approach, waiting to see words proven right or wrong, including his own.

He walked away, starting to wake up a bit more, the pull that was taking hold of them are starting to grow. The time to see would be close at hand, and a very rare feeling crossed Gronz's heart. Doubt. He felt confident in his own strength, but what was out there? If whatever was left had destroyed gods, would it destroy him too? The thought of dying did not scare him, more the thought that he would prove to be too weak to accomplish anything. To die gloriously had its own appeal though nothing he was looking to do anytime soon, but to be too feeble to even put up a fight was yet another one of those jokes that Gronz struggled to find any humor for.

[Robert Blackletter]

Darhaus woke with a scream, body soaked with sweat.
I'm a man Darhaus whispered to himself, a regular reassurance after this dream. Normally after the dream he would find one of the others, and help them in their duty, or go camping around the island, exhausting his-self and making the dream disappear for a time.

While he would love to have travelled the island again, this was no longer possible with the fading so Darhaus got out of his bed, wrapped his namesakes skin around his body and left his Spartan room to look for another. Some hard work should stop the dream tonight, and someone always need a hand.

[mystic1110]

During her walk from the cold stream towards the ship that would bring her, her brethren, and law to the old world Onori saw a cliff rising above her. The cliff was not especially high, but it was an obstacle and Onori was steadfast. She would walk a straight line towards the ship.

It was not that she was not flexible or realistic. Any other day but today she would have walked around the cliff and found another path to walk. It was a cliff, not a symbol of her beliefs or philosophy. In fact even had she thought of the cliff as that, she would have still chosen another path, because she was not one to choose the wrong path. Life was not to be wasted on meaningless gestures.

However, today she felt the need - not to challenge herself - but to exert herself. Her toils at the forge wet her appetite for physical activity, and despite the fact that she washed herself, she wished for more before the cramped confines of the ship.

And so Onori climbed the cliff, her heavy armor and bronze sword proving little impediment. Almost as soon as it began, did she climb over the top, not winded or even sweating. She looked down at the cliff with disapproval, almost as if she was disappointed in it - if not for failing to provide her with an engaging activity then for the fact that the cliff failed itself. That it did not live up to its own promise of being a cliff.

She once again began to walk - still in a straight line to the ship. Not much time had passed when she saw a deer that had broken its foot and had took refuge in a spot that laid across her path. Now this was symbolic. The deer was panting and in obvious pain. It would not live to see tomorrow, that much was clear to Onori's cold grey eyes. The deer's eyes themselves shone with the desire to keep living. This was not a creature that begged for death.

Onori thought about the blade on her side. . .

Within it were countless laws about the realm that had once existed after death. Her elders always obfuscated whether or not it was still standing. Whether or not their great works were undone or were in ruins. Onori, when choosing her path with the deliberation she was known for, had once thought of those laws and what must have occurred when they unraveled.

She walked over the deer, and walked on without a second glance, condemning it to a slow death.

Since the laws that she would write, based on the precedence of the old gods, were not written yet, she could not be sure what sentencing the deer to death on account of mercy by the edge of her sword would mean. Without those laws, would the deer become a spirit chained to this land - or to her? Would the deer be reborn - as what? Would it simply vanish - to where? How could she affirmatively act without knowing even the expected result, or even the possibility of a result.

Out of all the great works of the old gods, this . . . the various halls and existences after the moil coil were the greatest. Perhaps her siblings did not view them this way, perhaps they sought grand palaces and terrible weapons - but she thought of the greatest thing lost to the snake was the possibility of fair judgement after death. Even if the judgement was annihilation, those at death's door used to know for certain that there was a door. Now. . . only ruins.

She gripped the hilt of her sword tight in her strong calloused hand, half in promise and half in anger.

Far away now, one could hear the painful dying mewls of the dying deer.

[Gengy]

Pranksters and Watchers

Qure-Inaria blushed as the truth of the deception was fully revealed to her. Standing up quickly she stomped her right foot down in a huff "You little red headed demons..." Scowling, she placed her hands on her hip, gnashing her teeth until she realized Vega was watching. Seeing the two twins slowly step away from her, she began to walk away as well. Qure-Inaria had realized now that she was fully exposed in front of three of her siblings, and though she had no shame over her body (In fact she took pride in it) it still felt odd being exposed and vulnerable. Sliding back into her robe, Qure-Inaria began to slowly loosen up, and even let out a short soft laugh "Ha ha ha. Alright, Zee and Wye you've truly pulled another one over me. You little rascals, I should have known you'd be involved in this, get over here." Stretching her arms out wide Qure-Inaria grabbed The Two Twins and pulled them in tight for a hug. This display of affection however quickly turned to a more mischievous nature as Qure-Inaria squeezed tighter and tighter until she was smothering the two twins and they began flailing about for air, at which point she released them and laughed herself.

Picking up her staff, Qure-Inaria kneeled down towards the ground, clicking her tongue softly and whistling a few high notes.

Rize and Ruyn can, like the others on the island, hold their breath for quite a long time. This means that the hug lasted quite a while. Both twins were wailing their arms by the end of it, and were red in the face to match their hair.

Once released and able to breathe again, the older twin looked at the younger, and said with a cough, "Brother?"

"Yes, Brother?" Ruyn answered with his own rasping.

"Didn't we have somewhere else to be?"

"I do believe that we haven't finished packing yet."

"I think it advisable," Rize said, eyeing the way Qure-Inaria was clicking and whistling - probably to call to her pets - "That we consider doing that."

"Agreed."

"Vega."

"Qurrie."

"Farewell." That said, both scamps scampered, heading towards the hidey-hole they called a 'room'.

You may consider Rize and Ruyn as exited from the scene. You may chase after them, if you wish, but... well, I'm about to try and explain why Qure-Innaria at least would find that bothersome.

The Twins had a room in Imsin's Manse, and it was neat, and tidy. Both beds (one stacked atop the other) were made, and the floors - while a bit dusty - were otherwise clean. It was a cultivated area of abject serenity, with walls that held no form of decoration, nor indeed, any identification within the room at all. This may, in fact, have to do with the simple answer that Rize and Ruyn barely, if ever, slept in the room they were assigned. They were there exactly as often enough to ensure that no one else could move in; with so many children of the gods, and so little space, if the twins did not return to sleep within the Manse at least that much, someone else would surely try to claim their rooms.

It had been tried before.

The Twin Terrors had chosen to sleep in their rooms for several consecutive days. For as long as the other occupant - artistically minded Laelia - had considered staying there. Laelia had found the view from the room to be very pleasing during the hours prior to her time of rest, which attracted her to one of the few rooms that had a bed built on top of another bed. She had fallen asleep only to be woken up by soft snickering. Rize sat in the far corner of the room, and idly was reading a scroll, likely one of Imsin's instructional scrolls, and occasionally snorting in quiet laughter. Above her, Laelia could hear quiet snoring, and before she could ask questions, long red hair dangled down with an arm that looked quite like Ruyn's. Finding nothing immediately objectionable, the daughter of Na-Ualim and Bal-Kherroth attempted to fall back asleep. The mixture of snickering and snoring, however, kept her waking, for it was an unsteady, unexpected mixture of sounds. When she went to look over at Rize again, it was in fact, Ruyn who was now reading and snickering, and Rize was presumably snoring.

The two had taken shifts. For several nights, using various forms of noises, they had ensured that Laelia slept little, and eventually, she found another - more pleasing - room to rest in.

However, if the twins knew that someone were looking for them - and that someone were not Imsin - they could, quite simply, not be found. The location of the other room they slept in was a closely guarded secret, known by few, and accessible by even fewer. It's entrance was often blocked not by a door, but by a wall of stone. And behind that stone was either more stone, or the illusion of more stone, depending on if Rize or Ruyn were awake or not; or if Rize were testing his abilities by using minor tricks while sleeping. At times, it worked. At times, it did not. Behind the stone or illusion of stone was a hallway, and depending on Ruyn's mood, was either undeniably cold, or very windy. Either way, it was difficult to traverse, if you even managed to get to it. Finally, should you get through the walls of stone, past the illusions that sometimes weren't there, and through the elemental hallway, you would come to a door. With no handle.

Pushing the door would avail you little. Pulling it - should you be able to find a way to do so - would also do naught. Inspecting the hinges would suggest that there was some way with which this door could be pushed or pulled, but the hinges were themselves at odds with each other as to which direction would be correct. This is because the hinges were lies. Lies to fool any observer. The final illusion meant to prevent entry into the true room of the twin tricksters. The door neither pushed, nor pulled, but slid into the rock wall.

Behind the door was a room few ever saw. Many on the island claimed to have seen it, but the stories of what it looked like were always different, so... no one was ever sure if they'd found it or not. When asked, the twins had always just looked at each other and laughed. Several of the family had postulated the theory that Rize and Ruyn regularly changed what it looked like, just to throw off the people who had the inclination to even bother finding it. After all, if it had been an important matter, something that required Imsin's attention, both boys could be found in the clean room with the stacked beds. Even during times where they were likely to receive some form of scolding or other form of punishment, if either brother thought that Imsin would be seeking them, they'd be in the nearly empty room.

Nearly all other times, they rested in the room that few ever saw, and those that did; they could not compare stories, not as far as physical identifiers. They would, to a one, agree that Ruyn's side of the room was a ruinous mess, spread out and growing all over. The mess was more noticeable when compared to the side of the room that Rize held domain; it was neat, and well kept, if full of strange bits of small, almost clear, stones. Yet they seemed to be arranged in a manner that suggested they were organized. And they sat upon a hard wood desk, next to a large lantern; the only light in the room. It's tiny flame was covered - almost as though trapped or caged - but it flickered and danced and was refracted off the stones to make the whole room sparkle.

Everything else in the room was always described differently. And, in the tales told, it was these different details that always seemed to dominate the stories; not the lesser things that could be agreed upon, but the larger bits and pieces. What comprised the mess on Ruyn's side? What color was the tiny flame? What did the beds - separate, not stacked - look like? What did the room smell like? Each adventurous explorer within the family had their own explanation and answers. Oddly, though it may have been considered, no one had yet to try and find the room in the company of someone else.

It wasn't a locked room. It wasn't a true mystery. It held it's secrets, but... it was the Twin's room. Everyone, even a pair of bothersome troublemakers, deserve a bit of privacy.

Inside their room, Rize was selecting several of the small stones, and tying them into a pouch. There was a pair of stone blades, dagger-sized, that the elder twin favored when sparring. They too were tied together, into a paired set of scabbards. Clothing from the pile in the center of the room - matching white shirts, green pants, and leather strips - were being folded neatly into a pair of shoulder sacks. Ruyn, meanwhile, was practically diving through the mess of discarded bits of - so claimed by the younger twin - useful materials with which to create things. The objects were perhaps not as intricately crafted as Koriah could make them, or as artistically pleasing as Laelia might design, nor did they last long. Usually, when Ruyn made a thing, it performed it's crude function, and then was no longer usable. He had considered creating a real looking spider - had even tried it - but the legs were all of different sizes, and didn't look good at all. It had been discarded in favor of a minor illusion, and was now in the mess here... somewhere. Still, Ruyn looked through the odds and ends, and a few of the smaller bits went into the shoulder sack nearest him. Next to it lay a small pair of bronze short-swords, sheathed in scabbards identical to the stone blades.

"What do you think, Wye?"

"About what, Zee?"

"The Old World. Do we... do we go?"

"Don't we have to?"

"Well. I've been thinking."

"Oh dear. This is going to be one of those conversations."

"No, no, hear me out."

"I really shouldn't."

"You really should."

"You're going to tell me regardless of whether I promise to listen or not, so why don't you just get on with it, and if I actually respond, we can consider it a conversation."

"See, look. We have this island, right?"

"The shrinking one, yes."

"I thought you were going to hear me out."

Ruyn responded no further, and proceeded to pack more gewgaws - there was the not-a-spider - into the sack. Hearing no response, Rize continued, "We have this island. Yes, it's getting smaller. Sure, it'll probably disappear in a while, but that could still be years and years. I mean, I'm pretty happy here. You sure seem to be happy here. So everyone else leaves. We can stay. Right?"

Ruyn stopped packing, to look at his brother. Normally, Ruyn would just grin, shake his head, and go back to whatever he was doing when Rize was in one of these moods. The older twin would start rambling about whatever he felt like - usually starting with the phrase 'I've been thinking' - and Ruyn would let Rize get it out of his system, and they'd both move on. Occasionally, these would be discussions about one member of the family or other, and it would evolve (or devolve, depending on perspective) into their next joke.

This time, however... Ruyn couldn't let it pass. "Rize. We can't."

"And why in the name of our missing father can't we?!" Rize responded. "This is our home. It's ours. The Old World is... not. We're... we're all just kinda blindly following along because this place is falling apart, but has anyone once - once! - considered ways to try and fix it, rather than abandoning it? All I hear are people talking about the boat, the Old World, and how we have this great big responsibility, and... and... no one talks about here."

"Rize."

"No, Ruyn. No! I want to stay." Rize took the pair of clothes he was holding, and looked at them. He just looked at them, and realized he'd been packing them away. As if to go. As if to leave. He threw them behind him, and was about to start digging out everything he'd packed already, when Ruyn stood from the floor, and walked over to his brother. Laying one hand over his brother's was all it took. Ruyn looked into Rize's face, and Rize knew. "You'd go. You'd go, even if I stayed, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"Because we have this great big responsibility?"

"Yes."

"Because if we go, we might find that missing father of ours, and our mother too?"

"Yes."

"Because even though this is our home - our home - it's dying. And we can't save it."

"Yes."

"And that hurts you as much as it hurts me."

"You done?"

"Verbally quantifying the feelings we both share, so as to whit, we may both agree that they were discussed, and never speak of them again?"

"Yes. That."

"I suppose."

"You gonna finish packing, then?"

"I guess I had better. Not like Imsin would have let me stay."

"No. Nor would I." Now Ruyn grinned, shook his head, and mocked swinging his fist onto his older brother's head. The implication was clear. Rize would be knocked out and dragged onto the boat, to be saved from dying from a disappearing and crumbling island.

"Ass."

"Not me, your Imsin-ness. You got the wrong guy. I just happen to look like someone who is one."

[hi-mi-tsu]

Koriah & Calenthiel

"As disturbing as the thought that no two people view the same objective reality is, I think that must be it." Koriah did not lift her spyglass right away, instead double-checking the fittings and leather bindings. When she was satisfied, she put hers to use as well, focusing on a different part of the mist, amused by the obvious metaphor inherent in their newfound tunnel vision. "I mean, the insides of your eyelids aren't black, but that's what you see when you close your eyes. If vision was based on vision-emissions, wouldn't you see the veins and fleshy bits instead?"

The mists remained as impenetrable as ever, though no surprise there. Koriah got bored with that quickly enough and swung her magnified gaze around to point down the crumbling edge of the cliffs. "And speaking of different viewpoints, did you know Laelia was coming this way?"


Koriah, Calenthiel, & Laelia

Laelia was, in fact, headed towards her siblings; she'd spotted them in her cliffside jaunt, and thought to say hello. When she grew closer, she noticed the odd thing that Koriah was pointing at her and tilted her head in curiosity.

"What, praytell, is this new thing?" A new toy! Sturdy and functional but not beautiful, not yet. Though it did carry a charm all its own, held in Koriah's grasp.

"You've been creating things and didn't invite me? I'm crushed, truly!" A smile played about her lips, teasing and amused. "Are you both ready for adventure? Is that what this is for? I can hardly wait! Seeing beyond the mists...won't it be glorious?"

[The_Snark]

At the Pier

It was generally accepted that if one needed to find Arauru, the quickest way was to head for the nearest coast and walk along it until one caught sight of her. After all, what did the island's heart have to offer? Orchard and garden, forest and field; none of these places held any allure for her. Imsin's manse was her home, offering warmth and comfort; but it was invariably filled with brothers and sisters and cousins, chattering and laughing and quarreling, and if she were in the mood for that then odds were she did not need finding in the first place. The sealed towers which entranced some of her cousins did not interest her; they were empty relics, their purpose clear and their time done. (It was not always this way; once, when she was a girl, she had asked Imsin to allow her into her mother's tower, and been gently denied. The ensuing tantrum had been impressive. Arauru did not care to be reminded of this occasion.) No, her heart belonged on the barren shores, the sea's breath cool against her skin and the smell of salt in the air.

(This was not the safest way to find Arauru; she sometimes tired of her family's company, and not even Ulven and Laelia were safe from her tongue if they set a foot wrong at such times. But it was the quickest.)

Lately, things had changed. If one wanted to find Arauru, one had only to go down to the beach where the silver shop lay at dock, and she would doubtless be nearby. Imsin had gently denied her when she asked if she might take the vessel out around the island, to get a feel for how it handled. She'd been out on a boat before, and knew something of how to work the currents and the winds; she also knew that the silver ship would be as unlike the little dinghy Imsin had made for her as a grown woman was from a girl. She didn't like the idea of taking her first stumbling missteps with all her brothers and sisters and cousins aboard, but there seemed little other choice. The mist-shrouded sea here was calm, at least. There would be time to learn. In the meantime, she lay at the helm and felt how the gentle waves rocked the hull; she walked port to starboard and measured the roll of the deck beneath her; she practiced knots and ropes until her fingers hurt, and tested the give of the tiller, and got to know the ship in a hundred small ways as best she could.

It was the practical thing to do, she told herself; but she knew it was also selfish. This was, in a way, what she had been made for.

[Kasanip]

"I imagine we'll stick together at first, at least. We're all in the same boat after all." He smirked at his own pun. "Even if we don't, though, it's not like we'll be alone. There are mortals down there too. And if anyone will know where to find all of us, it'd be you... or Memoria, but also you." Amoros wasn't sure if Vega even wanted him to bring up that she was evidently restless. She liked her secrets, after all, and kept them closely guarded to her heart. Vega wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic about this trip - he should try to make it easier for her...

"Do you want help packing?"
Vega and Amoros
Vega nodded a little, reassured by the words.
"Maybe it is so." She agreed. However, the offer of Amoros was refused quickly with shaking of her head.
"I don't think so. It hasn't been decided the things to bring." She said. Falling silent, it was only the sounds of nature in the morning calm. It took several minutes before she spoke again.
"I was walking by and was curious about what everyone was bringing." Only her eyes continued the words as she looked at Amoros.
"Because we won't come back, I don't want to leave anything important behind."



Vega and Memoria
"You cannot be sure if they'll be wonderful or disheatening. And how would you respond if it was a world of violence, or we return to a place that is as swept clean as it is large... Will the Serpent still be nearby and ready to act before we finish growing?"
Maria looks down on the shore as she begins coming up with reasons, her face oddly serene for what she proposes.
"I know this much... The world is a large place, we shall not walk together long as we find ourselves and see to our tasks, but we're family, we will always come together. Even for Ms. Vulture." Memoria smiles slightly at her appellation for Qure-Inaria... Yet despite her smiling face and tone, one can't help but notice she hasn't pointed out a single good possibility.
Vega and Memoria
Vega was silent, but a small smile came to her mouth as she nodded. The beautiful light of the horizon and the comforting words from Memoria made the atmosphere warm, if quiet and peaceful above the ocean and the breeze.
"Yes, I think you are right." She agreed. However, as Vega's eyes looked to the horizon, only her expression could say. "I think that we still have a long way to grow up. I don't know if we are ready or not."
"I haven't decided what to bring. Will you bring that book?" She asked as she hugged her legs.



She then starts walking, no, almost bouncing ahead like a weight had been, for a time at least, lifted from her, before suddenly stopping once again. "Oh, uh..." She looks at Ulven, with an embarassed smile. "Uhm, I should let you lead the way. You're better at finding people than I am."

Ulven blushed slightly at the compliment, nodded his head briskly, grunted an affirmation, and began to move. He scrambled up the tree they'd been sitting under to get a better view and sniff at the open air. He caught a faint scent, but was confused. He'd gotten the impression she was outside earlier, but now it seemed she was, outside, but at the manse.

"Tower ledge." he said, just loud enough for Stygen's benefit.

He scrambled back down, letting gravity do most of the work, and tromped off at a brisk walk into the halls of the manse. He didn't look back to check that Stygen was following, he just trusted she was. It wasn't long before he found Memoria, and Vega next to her, as he first checked the places he knew Memoria normally preferred to travel and loiter.

Ulven stopped, examined his surrounds for unexpected people or traps, and grunted happily, "Hey.".

Alea watches Ulven try to figure out where either Memoria or Vega might be curiously, wondering just how he does it. Unfortunately, she finds herself unable to figure it out by the time he jumps down the tree. Nodding as he states their destination, she follows his lead.

She gives her brother an appreciative look when they find their siblings rather quickly. She probably would have been wandering aimlessly until she found someone who'd seen them recently, herself.

After Ulven greets them in his concise manner, she waves to them. "Hey there! Uuh, I hope we're not interrupting anything!"
Vega, Memoria, Ulven, and Stygen
However, soon the moment came when there was the interruption. Sitting on the edge of the tower, Vega looked back over her shoulder. It was a brief moment of surprise, perhaps only Ulven noticed the expression in her silver eyes. However, it was gone in a second as she tilted her head and adjusted her seat.
"No... You're not interrupting anything." Vega assured with a subtle shake of her head. It would be more subtle, but the motion carried to her long ponytail, so it could be easily understood.
"What is wrong?" She asked Ulven. Her eyes were curious, but he could understand another meaning. It was the usual end, with a little exasperation and confusion, for Vega who was used to hiding, but never comfortable with being found.
"You found me again, didn't you?"
With a turn to glance at Stygen, she made the rarest smile. Of course Stygen knew that expression.
"Oh, did Ulven find you first?"


Sulh

Even if he did not realize it at first, this tranquil garden did not bring him peace. Hearing the shrill scream of his avian sister and pearls of laughter from the more... volatile of his brothers did not aid in this effort. With no better option before him, he arose from his seated position and made his way through the gardens, out the entrance and onto one of many paths that snaked throughout the complex.
One such path, one of circular stones composed of smaller stones, provided him the path that would lead him towards one of two destinations, his naked feet having any notes of tension rubbed out by his quiet strolling. His alabaster tunic billowed behind him, and curly raven hair swayed in kindred response.



Sulh stood before a door of chiseled stone, featureless and shaded somewhat by the stonework around the entrance. This door was attached to a star-bleached tower of milky rock, with nary a single facet about it save for the facts that it rose and ended some distance upwards. It was smooth and soft, like a piece of wood rubbed over and over by fine-tooth sandpaper.

It was a marvel to behold, and wondrous in its solemn presence. But within the door was no keyhole, no handle. It's true there was a door of some kind, for the shape of one that tapered towards the top of its enterance was clearly chiseled before him, but no amount of pushing, poking, prodding, teasing or working amounted to any results. He had watched his sister Koriah attempt entry with her knowledge of craftsmanship, but not even she could break open the secret place of their dear mother Iona. Nothing she did even did so much as hint at marring the door; it remained as smooth and complete as the day it was finished.

An egg with gold inside, but no way within.

Sulh walked to the theoretical entrance, turned and rested himself upon the door, leaning. Slowly, with the deliberation of a purposeful exhale, he slid down against it until he sat squarely between where the two doors would part way. He closed his eyes once more, and let his mind rove and wander. He listened to the crashing of the sea, the cries of gulls above. He could taste the salt upon his lips, the parching of his throat. It relieved his worrying mind, and offered a small measure of peace. It did not, however, quell him.

He was not sure what would.
Vega and Suhl
In the silence it was the sudden sound of Vega's quiet voice to pierce the silence like a harp's plucked sound.
"What are you doing, Brother?"
Watching from the branch of the tree of the garden near the entrance was Vega, sitting in her usual tunic of red and white. At this moment she was looking a little relaxed, leaning against the trunk of the tree with the small harp resting on her stomach and one sandal-wearing foot to hang lazily. She was watching Suhl with her silver eyes.
A seagull's cry breaks the silent moment as she stared at Suhl. Of course the piercing curious look of her eyes is well known. However, today it isn't the usual Vega who is sneaking and spying. Perhaps for once she was thinking about something seriously. This is easy to understand, because otherwise the sound of her harp's music would have already announced her presence.



Pranksters and Watchers
Qure-Inaria blushed as the truth of the deception was fully revealed to her. Standing up quickly she stomped her right foot down in a huff "You little red headed demons..." Scowling, she placed her hands on her hip, gnashing her teeth until she realized Vega was watching. Seeing the two twins slowly step away from her, she began to walk away as well. Qure-Inaria had realized now that she was fully exposed in front of three of her siblings, and though she had no shame over her body (In fact she took pride in it) it still felt odd being exposed and vulnerable. Sliding back into her robe, Qure-Inaria began to slowly loosen up, and even let out a short soft laugh "Ha ha ha. Alright, Zee and Wye you've truly pulled another one over me. You little rascals, I should have known you'd be involved in this, get over here." Stretching her arms out wide Qure-Inaria grabbed The Two Twins and pulled them in tight for a hug. This display of affection however quickly turned to a more mischievous nature as Qure-Inaria squeezed tighter and tighter until she was smothering the two twins and they began flailing about for air, at which point she released them and laughed herself.

Picking up her staff, Qure-Inaria kneeled down towards the ground, clicking her tongue softly and whistling a few high notes.

"Vega!" The twins practically jumped from their sitting position on the ground, as they looked up at their cousin. How Vega had managed to sneak up into a nearby tree without the twins noticing was a shock to both of them.

"Look, Qurrie," Rize began, and Ruyn finished, "There was a witness!"

"Now you can't say,"

"We didn't get you good!"

"So Vega, what did you think?" Rize grinned, while - almost strategically - backing away from Qure-Inaria.

Ruyn followed, getting closer to the tree that Vega was hiding in. Which also put him further away from his half-sister. "Yes, Qure-Inaria has a lovely shriek, doesn't she?"
Vega, Rize, Ruyn, and Qura-Inaria

Vega nodded and tried to stop her giggles from to break the normally quiet composure that was her nature. In fact, two things could break the composed and quiet atmosphere around Vega. One of these things is the playing of the harp and music, which Vega loves and idly when she desires attention will do and perform with a smile and graceful finger-plucking that earns praise.
However, the other time is when the completed joke of Rize and Ruyn is witnessed. Laughter is not something that can be kept a secret. It is a beautiful sound and something that is shared. Therefore, Vega was not a master, and as she struggled to prevent it, tears formed in her eyes.
Of course, those were words that Rize and Ruyn could easily understand to mean "Yes, that was too funny!"

However, the approach of Qure-Inaria was another situation. The twins were to receive their 'punishment' in the way that Vega would also humbly witness from her position. However, as they began to escape, it was the wise moment for her to surrender. Vega gracefully dropped from the tree to land within the distance of Qure-Inaria.
Finally she could control the laughter as it ran away with Rize and Ruyn.
However, it was still a small smile as she looked sheepishly to Qure-Inaria.
"Please don't punish me, too!" Was the expression in her eyes. But Qure-Inaria knew it also meant that Vega was covering for the boys to retreat. Maybe because she felt guilty, too?
Actually, for Vega, it was unusual. And that revealed she was a little restless today.
"Are you okay?" Were the spoken words after Vega had returned to a calm and curious voice.

[5ColouredWalker]

Siblings on the Rooftop
"I don't have the room, but I'll remember the drawing." Memoria smiles softly at Vega before Ulven and Stygen arrive.
"Nothing of import has been paused. So what brings all the watchers and the seeker to one rooftop? Last I saw there was more than one tower around here?" Memoria smiles at Ulven, taking a guess at what he'd want to do... He'd already seen everywhere else and he did like to find things. Memoria barrely noticed her legs stop swinging as she closes the book beside her, pulling at and the two charcoal sticks onto her lap, patting the empty space before she looks out into the sun.
"I'm right aren't I Stygen, he's seeing his last chance to get at the towers slip away... Wouldn't do to not take part of your role after all... I think it's wise learning from history, even if you mostly question it... Perhaps today you look to make it?"

For some reason Memoria sounded incredibly pleased with herself, as if she suddenly solved someone else's problem... Like figuring out how to melt iron.

[HalfTangible]

Sulh and Amoros

Amoros strode through mismatched trees along an old rock path towards the manse, breathing in the smell of the morning air.

Vega and Amoros

"Oh, I just brought some bare essentials, some trinkets to remember this place by..." Amoros smiled wistfully. "And some good memories."

Qure-Inaria and Amoros

For the longest time, Qure-Inaria had refused to interact with the other children of the gods if she could help it. After all, they were 'common rabble', and she was their princess. Amoros had been worried about that and had tried repeatedly to get her to play, but no matter what games he tried, she would refuse. Tag? Too sweaty. Hide and seek? Like she was going to get dirt on herself. A race? HAHAHAHA. Everything he'd tried had ended up in failure.

One day, however, he tried making a game specifically for her: he had called out to her that he was king, and ruled one of the groves near the manse. He'd repeatedly called out this challenge until she deigned to prove her sovereignty (and him wrong). Amoros had fought for 'his kingdom' long enough to be a challenge, and then had let himself 'lose' the game of pretend. He'd eventually 'reclaimed' his 'kingdom' and the game had begun again. Qure-Inaria had opened up to the other children eventually, but that grove had been where it all started.

Amoros wanted to visit that grove before the island crumbled away. It was pretty close to the manse, so it would likely take some time before it faded, but they would be leaving soon, and he wanted time to soak it in properly.

[Draken]

Halls

Meeting Lorci is never quite good for Zersetzen's mood, fortunately he has constructive means of relaxing after any such event.

A simple recitation he perfected with use, a spell, even. One to beckon and command water to move at his command, Zersetzen has used it to wash the halls ever since he first managed to get it right, a practical way of training his casting.

Nowadays it can create quite the excoriating little current at his feet. Others had their sword arms, Zersetzen chose to turn to the old magic.

The spell also made quite a distinctive noise, meaning he was easy to find during his rounds. More than once it resulted in a timely trap by the twins catching him blind. And the double trouble getting hosed in return. Sometimes off a window, as his magic grew stronger.

The whorl rippled as Zersetzen snorted at the memory of it. His mood was already getting better.

This is a cue for Ihrmiel to find him!

[AlexanderML]

It is holding something small and white, a rabbit perhaps? Sick, by the looks of it, and how could it not, they are not creatures meant to live in filth.

That does summon a less than desirable memory for Zersetzen. Maybe Lorci can notice him frown beneath his hood, if it dare look up at him.

For his part, he just speeds up his pace to get through this hall faster, giving up only a few parting words.

"You should just let it be."

He is soon out of sight, the echo of his steps dying out from the distance.

Lorci was just thinking on how stupid, how utterly useless it was, how spineless it was to not even have the courage to save little Cookie... by just talking to someone. It needed to, it wanted to, but Lorci could not do it. It was a continues cycle of want and perceived capability. Lorci would want to help, but then think on how it could not, over and over again. Lorci realized what was happening, and it just made it feel worse.

"You should just let it be."

Lorci jumped a little at that, not even realizing Zersetzen was there before. Lorci moved out of the way with a quick mumbled greetings and goodbye, very shyly. Yet... it also seemed to give Lorci the little push it needed. It felt like a nice subtle push that broke the spinning thoughts in it's head. Lorci felt like it could do it, that it could save little Cookie!

Lorci looks down at the dead rabbit. The one that had died during Lorci's long mental freak out.

Oh, Lorci thought at first, then leading into just a set of sadness an rage at itself. Reflexively on accident, Lorci dropped the dead rabbit in a deep want to just not look at it. The ground seeming to respond to Loric's feelings, gained a mouth that swallowed the rabbit whole. It licked it's rim and returned to being a plain old regular floor. Seeing that happen did not make Lorci feel better.

Lorci just left. To where? It did not care, as long as it was away from everyone else. Lorci wanted to be alone, for it did not want the insults or the pity. Lorci wanted to be alone, and felt worse for it.

[Jade_Tarem]

Koriah, Calenthiel, & Laelia

"It will, I know it!" Koriah grabbed Laelia by the hands and spun about her excitedly, her previous gloom - well, gloom for her - forgotten for the moment. The mention of their upcoming trip sent a dozen thoughts spiraling out at once, some of which the nascent goddess managed to articulate. "And the device doesn't have a name yet. I'm taking suggestions. Do you have any big plans for when we arrive? Imsin mentioned the place would be a wreck, but to me that just sounds like a lot of building material. How did you do that thing to your hair? Oh! You probably wanted to try this out. Hold it up to your eye - the small end - and point it at a distant object. It will seem to be much closer! Twist it around the middle if it all looks fuzzy to you until things become clear." She handed the spyglass over, surprisingly gently given her previous torque-heavy maneuver with her cousin. "In fact, keep it! I can make another one... assuming I can get the lenses from Calen." She could probably make her own, now that she'd seen his, but it would take longer and she had so much to work on.

[Dannir]

Stygen nods to Vega. "Oh, good, I was worried you might have been busy..." She says, scratching her head and smiling rather awkwardly. She opens her mouth to start explaining why they're there... That is, until Memoria makes her guess on the matter.


Siblings on the Rooftop
"I don't have the room, but I'll remember the drawing." Memoria smiles softly at Vega before Ulven and Stygen arrive.
"Nothing of import has been paused. So what brings all the watchers and the seeker to one rooftop? Last I saw there was more than one tower around here?" Memoria smiles at Ulven, taking a guess at what he'd want to do... He'd already seen everywhere else and he did like to find things. Memoria barrely noticed her legs stop swinging as she closes the book beside her, pulling at and the two charcoal sticks onto her lap, patting the empty space before she looks out into the sun.
"I'm right aren't I Stygen, he's seeing his last chance to get at the towers slip away... Wouldn't do to not take part of your role after all... I think it's wise learning from history, even if you mostly question it... Perhaps today you look to make it?"

For some reason Memoria sounded incredibly pleased with herself, as if she suddenly solved someone else's problem... Like figuring out how to melt iron.

Once her sibling is done, Stygen blinks a few times, taking the moment to register everything Memoria had just said. "Actually, yeah! That's pretty much the truth!" She pauses a moment, then looks at her hopefully. "That means you'll help us... Right!? That's... Well, that's sort of why we're here! You're... You're both interested in seeing what's in there, right?" She asks, giving Memoria, then Vega, pleading looks.

[Nefarion Xid]

Koriah, Calenthiel, & Laelia

Having stared futility in the mists for several seconds, Calenthiel lowered his spyglass and finally acknowledged Laelia's presence. The pride and eagerness had gone from his face. For Laelia, he feigns confidence and greets her with a kiss on the cheek.

"You can have mine if you like," he wags their new invention at Laelia before pressing it into her hand. "I think I may have the best eyes of us all."

As if lost to his own thoughts, he takes a few steps towards home. "As for me, I think I may turn my talents towards something else before we depart."

[AlexanderML]

Darhaus woke with a scream, body soaked with sweat.
I'm a man Darhaus whispered to himself, a regular reassurance after this dream. Normally after the dream he would find one of the others, and help them in their duty, or go camping around the island, exhausting his-self and making the dream disappear for a time.

While he would love to have travelled the island again, this was no longer possible with the fading so Darhaus got out of his bed, wrapped his namesakes skin around his body and left his Spartan room to look for another. Some hard work should stop the dream tonight, and someone always need a hand.

The two just walking to who knows where were walking outside a path that circled around their home. Lorci was hoping to find somewhere to be alone, while Darhaus was looking for others to help. Both of them might have not gotten what they wanted when the two bumped into each other when turning a corner.

Lorci for it's part stumbles a bit from a mix of surprise and shock. Tears were seen on it's ugly face, typical, but Lorci also seemed to look a little mad.... Lorci tries to collect itself, slumping over a bit and says to Darhaus:
"(Sniffle) He-Hello Darhaus, sorry. I'll look out better next time..."

[Othniel]

Forest, Before Dawn


"Nettles yes? I'll keep my eye out for them then." Qure-Inaria began to unravel her sleeves and stretch her arms out wide, feathers growing out from her shoulders and down the lengths of her outstretched limbs. Flapping up to a branch overhead, Qure-Inaria perched her bare feet and clutched the branch tightly. Yellow irises piercing the quite serenity of night, her skinny face sliding from side to side before finally zeroing in on what appeared to be fauna matching Ihrmiel's description. Swooping down she seized it swiftly in her hand, sharp nails cutting the stem at its base as she pried it loose from the earth. "Mmmm, yes, this will do nicely. Come Ihrmy, my natural born skills seem to extend farther then I imagined! Haha!" Waving her staff forward, she began to march forward, flower gripped firmly in her hand. Smiling a toothy grin at her sister, Qure-Inaria waited for her to catch up to her before tutting softly. Pinching her cheek, Qure-Inaria shook her sister a little while speaking to her softly "Sister I'm sure whatever you have recorded is more then enough."

"Perhaps you are correct," Ihrmiel affirmed. "I have recorded everything I have seen thus far, it is just that I am not sure I have recorded everything about every thing I have seen, if you follow me." She sighed resignedly. "Well, it will have to do, I suppose."


***
Zersetzen and Ihrmiel, Halls

"Cleaning again, I see," Ihrmiel remarked with a smile. She had come around the corner on her way back to her room, and was in a particularly pleasant mood after having spent time with Kyra. Her step had a lightness to it, and she turned around, showing off the braid Kyra had done for her. "See what Kyra did for me, Zersetzen?"

[Draken]

***
Zersetzen and Ihrmiel, Halls

"Cleaning again, I see," Ihrmiel remarked with a smile. She had come around the corner on her way back to her room, and was in a particularly pleasant mood after having spent time with Kyra. Her step had a lightness to it, and she turned around, showing off the braid Kyra had done for her. "See what Kyra did for me, Zersetzen?"

"It helps me relax, even if it is not of much use by this point."

They are going to leave soon, after all. Dust will accumulate, and the whole thing will crumble into the mists in no time.

Zersetzen waves his hand, and the water around him flows back into the containers around his belt. Not even a drop left to wet and darken his yellow robe.

"And the look suits you, pretty and elegant. How is she feeling today?"

Truth be told, Zersetzen had never been too good at handling Kyra in her worst days, and thus avoided his eldest sister until he was certain she was in an agreeable mood. For her own good as well as his.

[DoomHat]

"No... You're not interrupting anything." Vega assured with a subtle shake of her head. It would be more subtle, but the motion carried to her long ponytail, so it could be easily understood.
"What is wrong?" She asked Ulven. Her eyes were curious, but he could understand another meaning. It was the usual end, with a little exasperation and confusion, for Vega who was used to hiding, but never comfortable with being found.
"You found me again, didn't you?"

Siblings on the Rooftop
"I'm right aren't I Stygen, he's seeing his last chance to get at the towers slip away... Wouldn't do to not take part of your role after all... I think it's wise learning from history, even if you mostly question it... Perhaps today you look to make it?"

For some reason Memoria sounded incredibly pleased with herself, as if she suddenly solved someone else's problem... Like figuring out how to melt iron.



Ulven shook his head, smiled reassuringly at Vega, and whispered, "Not this time. Found Memoria... Was gonna search you next... Gathering all us with the finding blood. For the sealed tower! Like Memoria says..."

Ulven was clearly, in his own measured and careful way, bursting with excitement.

[Tychris1]

Qure-Inaria and Ihrmiel

Patting her sisters cheek, Qure-Inaria brought her sister in close for a hug. It was an awkward and stiff hug, as Qure-Inaria didn't often hug or even come into close physical contact with her siblings (Outside of demeaning pinches and nose bops) but the mere gesture held more emotional significance then the physical action itself. Detangling herself, Qure-Inaria pouted her lips "You worry yourself too much sister. What you haven't recorded has been documented by Memoria, or observed by Stygen or Vega, and then worked over half a dozen times by Koriah, At this she smiled and pride spread throughout her veins as if it was carried through her blood "Trust me, I've made sure of it. We're a family, a chain bound together by blood to pull this world out of the fires of the past. To put all of the stress and pressure on a single link is simply foolish."

Qure-Inaria and Vega

Snickering fiendishly Qure-Inaria watched as her previously retreating rat allies now gathered around her, squeaking their undivided loyalty to their one true Princess. Jabbing a finger at her now fleeing brothers, Qure-Inaria broke out into a fit of laughter as her rat swarm chased after them in earnest. She paced towards the same direction as her twin brothers before stopping in front of Vega. She looked down at her shy and inquisitive sister, placing her hands on her hips as she considered what punishment was befitting of her. Biting her lip, Qure-Inaria reached out with her left hand and grabbed some of Vegas hair, ruffling and messing it about before winking at her. "Now we're even," thinking on her question, Qure-Inaria scratched her head before leaning against her staff for support "If I'm to be honest Vega, no I'm not really okay. It's not because of the Twins, it's just how they are, it's because of Imsin. I don't want to leave him behind...." She looked up towards the tree canopy above, her eyes growing dull and glazed as she delved deep into thought.

Qure-Inaria and Calenthiel

Encircling around the manse, Qure-Inaria took in the sight of the home that she would be leaving in a few days. She traced her hand alongside its curves and designs, feeling the cold dry wood rub against her fingertips. Her chest rose as her lungs inflated with the heady aroma of the warm winds blowing off the beach and rolling through the Farthest Shore. She closed her eyes, straining her mind as she tried to reconstruct and imagine every detail she had previously absorbed only to watch it melt away in her brain. Scrunching her face in irritation, Qure-Inaria opened her eyes only to see Calenthiel walking towards the Manse, and a small coy smile slipped onto her lips. Leaning against the nearby wall, Qure-Inaria feigned spotting the handsome God by accident before elegantly waving towards him. "Good morning Calenthiel, what were you doing out by the shore?"

Qure-Inaria and Amoros

Qure-Inaria stared at a bush in the grove imperiously, her eyes narrowed and her mouth turned to a scowl as she strained herself watching the defiant shrubbery. In a few moments the obstinant fauna suddenly lost a chunk of leaves and appeared in the well cut and maintained image of a Swan in flight. Smiling, she began to clap her hands together and released a short but haughty laugh. Whenever she conquered this grove she had always left a number of avian decorations to enhance the appearance of her "court". Something about their body structure and ability to fly just seemed so regal and elegant to her. Perhaps the worst part of playing this game with Amoros was having to see her precious decorations tarnished by his garish designs. Still, she had to thank Amoros internally for the memory, and as she looked into the swan's dead green eyes she almost wished to relive them one last time.

[Robert Blackletter]

The two just walking to who knows where were walking outside a path that circled around their home. Lorci was hoping to find somewhere to be alone, while Darhaus was looking for others to help. Both of them might have not gotten what they wanted when the two bumped into each other when turning a corner.

Lorci for it's part stumbles a bit from a mix of surprise and shock. Tears were seen on it's ugly face, typical, but Lorci also seemed to look a little mad.... Lorci tries to collect itself, slumping over a bit and says to Darhaus:
"(Sniffle) He-Hello Darhaus, sorry. I'll look out better next time..."


Darhaus stumbled but quickly right his self after bumping into another godling. Darhaus quickly saw that it was little Lorci, and that he had tears on his face missing the anger completely.
No worries little one, the fault was both of ours, but tell me little one, why the tears? Have Rize and Ruyn been picking on you again? Darhaus had always felt protective over the smaller gods and seeing Lorci cry brought this side out.

[Kasanip]

Vega and Amoros
"Good memories?" Vega curiously asked, to look at Amoros. Finally her restless feet had stopped and she relaxed a little.

To say it was not hard to relax with Amoros, however for Vega it was always a struggle with spoken words. Amoros wasn't easy to be around. Therefore to relax or to struggle to relax, there was the conflict in the same way introversion and extroversion are aligned. However, she was trying to make the conversation, Amoros could notice. Vega was not the type to reveal her intention easily, but today she was restless, and in this way for once it wasn't so hard. The breeze swayed her hair as silence continued.

Vega, Memoria, Ulven, and Stygen
Vega looked sideways to Memoria, another surprise that can be understood. Memoria's inspiration was always like that, though Vega preferred for the information to be revealed by the one who knew instead of guess.

However, she made a small smile and touched her finger to her lips. To uncover a secret, maybe the best secret on the island? Ulven probably already knew she would agree to such an adventure.

Maybe she could find something to bring with her on the journey. Something to pack like everyone else. Something more than good memories.
"I am!" She said to agree with Stygen and Ulven. She stood up and looked at Memoria. Her eyes asked this question. "Do you want to come, too?"

Vega and Qure-Inaria
Vega ineffectively winced and endured the loving punishment before trying to fix her hair with her hands. Some strands wouldn't cooperate now, to have become uncontrollable with Qure-Inaria's hair-ruffling.

However, she stopped to try to fix as she listened to Qure-Inaria. To think about Imsin, it was easy to see the understanding and thought in Vega's eyes.
"Me, too." She agreed. However, by to continue standing close and looking up at Qure-Inaria, her eyes also said more.
"I don't want to leave anyone."
"I am curious what he will say at dinner." Vega impulsively said. That was a restless sign. However, the anticipation surely made such a meaning.

[mystic1110]

Exactly halfway between the forge and the crumbling shore where the ship to the old world was setting its sails, Onori took pause and looked back at the island that nursed her throughout her entire life. Thinking back there was much of the island she never saw. Hidden brooks and secret caves, that never crossed her freezing gaze. Instead she spend her days in the library reading books of laws, in the gymnasium practicing her sword form or at the forge.

She considered if she felt regret at the missed childhood. She judged that she didn't. She considered if she felt sentimental. She ruled that she hadn't.

The pause was brief, merely a stagger in the momentum of her walk, but - she did pause despite her verdicts.

The walk continued.

[HalfTangible]

Qure-Inaria and Amoros

Qure-Inaria stared at a bush in the grove imperiously, her eyes narrowed and her mouth turned to a scowl as she strained herself watching the defiant shrubbery. In a few moments the obstinant fauna suddenly lost a chunk of leaves and appeared in the well cut and maintained image of a Swan in flight. Smiling, she began to clap her hands together and released a short but haughty laugh. Whenever she conquered this grove she had always left a number of avian decorations to enhance the appearance of her "court". Something about their body structure and ability to fly just seemed so regal and elegant to her. Perhaps the worst part of playing this game with Amoros was having to see her precious decorations tarnished by his garish designs. Still, she had to thank Amoros internally for the memory, and as she looked into the swan's dead green eyes she almost wished to relive them one last time.
The child of the gods was actually surprised to find his sister there. He knew that she'd enjoyed their game when they'd been younger, but he was surprised she missed it enough to make one of her sculptures. He smirked to himself as he snuck up behind her.

Then he laughed, and announced his presence in the most boisterous voice he could muster. "Declaring victory so soon, Princess? That confidence shall be thy downfall! The great kingdom of Something-or-other shall be as a roof unto your house! ... or... something, I dunno, I usually have these speeches planned!"



"Good memories?" Vega curiously asked, to look at Amoros. Finally her restless feet had stopped and she relaxed a little.

To say it was not hard to relax with Amoros, however for Vega it was always a struggle with spoken words. Amoros wasn't easy to be around. Therefore to relax or to struggle to relax, there was the conflict in the same way introversion and extroversion are aligned. However, she was trying to make the conversation, Amoros could notice. Vega was not the type to reveal her intention easily, but today she was restless, and in this way for once it wasn't so hard. The breeze swayed her hair as silence continued."Of course! (also a raccoon, but I gotta wait till the last minute for that one)" He put one arm around Vega's shoulder and as he spoke pointed at various spots in the distance. "It's gone now, but there once was a cove over that way we all used to swim at, if you'll recall. There's a grove that I got Qure-Inaria to play for the first time in. I found a mother rabbit over by the fourth tower, but she has a litter now by the old stone path."

His smile faded just a bit. "And Ismin told me off in the gymnasium once for... overworking... myself..." His smile faded entirely. "I've... been looking for as many memories of him as I can." He turned to look her in the eyes. "You, Laelia, Onori, Rize and Ruyn, or even Zersetzen... I'll be able to see all of you." His hand squeezed her shoulder. "But..."

He shook himself, relaxing his grip. "... Sorry. We were talking about you. You seem... troubled. Restless. You can talk to me."

[Warmatt]

He was in the garden, alone for the most part, and thinking, his hands busy with work, pointless work for the most part, but it was the doing that Matthias was after, the calming effects of hard work, of getting his hands dirty. Really though, as he got up, his bluff and grizzled features would smile to themselves, as he spots something in the garden. Picking it up, he wonders....


He would enter the building, looking for Lorci, and would call out to him as soon as he saw him, something hidden behind the gardeners back, even as there was that same, accepting smile that he always wore. For Matthias judged one thing alone. Did you harm the family?

[Othniel]

"It helps me relax, even if it is not of much use by this point."

They are going to leave soon, after all. Dust will accumulate, and the whole thing will crumble into the mists in no time.

Zersetzen waves his hand, and the water around him flows back into the containers around his belt. Not even a drop left to wet and darken his yellow robe.

"And the look suits you, pretty and elegant. How is she feeling today?"

Truth be told, Zersetzen had never been too good at handling Kyra in her worst days, and thus avoided his eldest sister until he was certain she was in an agreeable mood. For her own good as well as his.
Ihrmiel

"Well, I believe," answered Ihrmiel. She left unsaid the words of her sister, believing them to be private. "I think action may suit her better once we set sail and reach the Old World. I will miss this place myself, as it is home. I think I should like someday to return and restore this place, or perhaps to aid in the rebuilding of a similar redoubt, although such things of stone and metals are beyond me."

[Draken]

Zersetzen and Ihrmiel

Good.

"Let that be so, we will probably need all hands on the project. Maybe even sprout some extra pairs.

Just a small joke.

"As for matters of architecture, those are for Koriah and Calenthiel to work on, I reckon. But I suppose I would like to offer what help I can when the opportunity arises. I doubt it will be any time soon, once we depart, I foresee much work ahead of us."

Well, he doesn't sound daunted nor weary of his own words, somewhat eager, perhaps.

[TechnOkami]

Amoros strode through mismatched trees along an old rock path towards the manse, breathing in the smell of the morning air.

Sulh & Amoros

Sulh was not expecting any of his kin to be treading upon the path he walked, let alone one that shared a parent with him. When he looked out and beheld Amoros before him, he could, for the briefest of times, only smile.

"Amoros! It is good to see you brother."

His lengthy, tone arms spread out to embrace him.



Sulh & Vega

Sulh could hear the familiar tones of his sister brush past his ears, carrying along a question as well as the sounds. She was in an analytical mood it seemed, yet there was some edge to this question, the barest hint of teeth with jaws behind them. He did not answer her right away, remaining within his stewing thoughts. It took a moment more, but Sulh's eyes eventually opened, earthen irises staring forward.

"...do you remember when we were young, when our forbearers were still among us? Do you remember how... peaceful it was? Tranquil? I tried to be that, to embody those same virtues of calmness. Yet even now at the brink of our departure, I am not that. Far from it."

It was then that his chestnut eyes turned to those of his silver kin, eyes so full of unsteadiness. "I am fearful. Nay, terrified Vega. If I cannot quell myself here where it is calmest, what good will I be in the Old World? What if I cannot bring even a small measure of peace with me to where our mother returned?"

Suhl cast his gaze away, eyes like wet stones: a pained gaze.

"And we will never return to this place, Vega."

His gaze returns to her.

"Surely you have seen it too, how everything here is slowly breaking apart. We cannot escape our fate. There is no running from that silver ship; we sail or we drown with the rest of the island."

Though he did not necessarily raise his voice, he was unaccustomed to even the barest hint of unveiled emotion. He never expects it, and it always unveiled itself amongst the closest of his kin.

"F... forgive me. I am not myself. I am... lost in my anxiety and nervousness."

[5ColouredWalker]

Memoria, Vega, Ulven, and Stygen
Maria smiles at Vega for a moment before looking back to Ulven.
"Of course I'll help. While I've respected our parents privacy, the island is falling apart... Perhaps we can catalogue this one last piece before we go..."
Memoria slowly pulls herself back from the ledge, standing up with her book, being very careful not to let anything fall as she puts her charcoal sticks in her shirt, patting out her skirt.
"Do you have a plan though? I have some ideas but they're shaky at best." Memoria focuses on Ulven as she asks for his ideas... He is the finder after all, even if Vega could be called the sneak of the four.

[HalfTangible]

Sulh & Amoros

Sulh was not expecting any of his kin to be treading upon the path he walked, let alone one that shared a parent with him. When he looked out and beheld Amoros before him, he could, for the briefest of times, only smile.

"Amoros! It is good to see you brother."

His lengthy, tone arms spread out to embrace him.

"Sulh!" Amoros embraced his sibling. He had 11 siblings, so he wasn't that surprised to find one out here. "I'm looking over all my favorite spots on the island before we set off! What're you doing?"

[Gengy]

Rize and Ruyn, in the Kitchen

Rize and Ruyn were fully geared up for their travels to the Old World. Their weapons were attached to their belts, their travel sacks were fully packed and over their shoulders. The only thing missing was provisions.

"Kitchen?" Rize asked.

"Kitchen." Ruyn answered.

They stopped briefly to look at their hide-away, and at the doorway Ruyn gave the wall a soft, caressing pat. The door encased itself in stone, and was closed up now, possibly for good. Rize, without looking back, walked through the long hallway, beyond the illusion door, past the wall of illusion stone, and waited for Ruyn to catch up to open the wall of real stone. They stepped out into the Manse proper, and began to wander their way towards the kitchen.

Once inside, they looked at the quaint little kitchen that served as the haven to everyone in the family. It was - very strictly - off limits to Rize and Ruyn's... antics. This rule was set in place a long time ago, by Imsin himself, after Rize and Ruyn had slipped a whole pepper into someone's food. The result was... less than ideal. The Twins were given a harsh punishment, and didn't much care for cooking duties after that. Nor did many in the family much care to try their cooking.

Still, the kitchen was always full of food, thanks in part to Matthias for the vegetables and meat from those of the family that liked to hunt. Ruyn started going through the larder, picking out fruits and veggies, and tossing them behind his shoulder with a "Hup!", to the responding Rize catching them in his shoulder sack with a "Hey!"

They did this several times, until Rize's satchel held enough to sustain them for a few days. Then they went through the meat storage for the dried jerky made only a few days ago. Rize opened Ruyn's satchel, and the two worked together to load it for another few days of lean, travel rations. If any of the rest of the family asked, the Twins would share, but... Rize and Ruyn both knew that if anyone was asking them for food, it was because the hunger was too great to ignore. So the two loaded up, without being too greedy (but maybe a tiny bit, as it looked like no one had arrived yet to pilfer anything), and proceeded to look around the kitchen one last time.

Besides the pantry and the meat storage, the kitchen was sparse. There was a wash basin, of course, and a wood-fire stove - Rize and Ruyn barely touched the thing - that was on the wall adjacent to the outside. Other than that, the place was dominated by shelves and counters that held pots and pans of various shapes and sizes; the utensils were good items for tinkers and creators to start working with copper, if a family member expressed the interest to do so. Rize hadn't found any interest in such things, but Ruyn had a few pots that he'd made in here. He was actually considering grabbing one to take with them. If nothing else, whacking it with a stick would make a great way to wake everyone up in the mornings.

Then Kyra arrived in the Kitchen, and such thoughts were abandoned in the face of someone to... speak with. Or prank. The boys would figure it out as they went.

"Kyra!"

[daelrog]

At the Pier

Gronz's wandering leads him to the pier, where Auraru is. If one were to read Gronz's mind at that moment, they'd find it blank. A quick greeting, or thoughtful opening is not the gods' child's strong way. In way it makes Gronz a bit more pure, though perhaps in an unwanted way.

Gronz strokes his bare chin briefly considering the sharp-tongued Auraru. He'd felt the lash of her tongue in the past, and perhaps it was from her he'd first learned that words were a weapon as well. He preferred a rock, but he at least gained a respect for the alternative.

"Pier's a good place."

[AlexanderML]

Darhaus stumbled but quickly right his self after bumping into another godling. Darhaus quickly saw that it was little Lorci, and that he had tears on his face missing the anger completely.
No worries little one, the fault was both of ours, but tell me little one, why the tears? Have Rize and Ruyn been picking on you again? Darhaus had always felt protective over the smaller gods and seeing Lorci cry brought this side out.

"Not this time... I-I'm just sad about some things I'd like to forget. It-it's not anyone's fault but my own!" Says Lorci answering quickly as she wipes her face. She did not want to discuss it, just makes her feel worse.

Lorci tires to lead him along to continue their talk moving. "How are you?" Says Lorci, unable to make up a conversation topic other than that. She wanted to talk to at least try and make Darhaus happy.


(A different time, earlier.)

He was in the garden, alone for the most part, and thinking, his hands busy with work, pointless work for the most part, but it was the doing that Matthias was after, the calming effects of hard work, of getting his hands dirty. Really though, as he got up, his bluff and grizzled features would smile to themselves, as he spots something in the garden. Picking it up, he wonders....


He would enter the building, looking for Lorci, and would call out to him as soon as he saw him, something hidden behind the gardeners back, even as there was that same, accepting smile that he always wore. For Matthias judged one thing alone. Did you harm the family?

Lorci was not in the garden at the start of that day, but Lorci came to it later on. She did see Matthias's looking for her before, but was too scared to see him (or anyone) directly. She decided to wait in the garden, trying to do a little work there so that he might not be so mad at her from his trouble locating her. Though the resulting work effort was just watering and weeding, barely anything from Matthias already working on it that day, it was something hoped Lorci. She had her clothes pretty dirty, with the most stains being on the arms and legs.

"Hello Matthias, everything alright?" Lorci get's out as she sees Matthias, it was like a lump in her throat she had to throw up to get that out. She was pretty scared that he was going to turn all mad any moment... even if the smart side of her brain told her that was impossible.

[hi-mi-tsu]

Koriah, Calenthiel, & Laelia

"It will, I know it!" Koriah grabbed Laelia by the hands and spun about her excitedly, her previous gloom - well, gloom for her - forgotten for the moment. The mention of their upcoming trip sent a dozen thoughts spiraling out at once, some of which the nascent goddess managed to articulate. "And the device doesn't have a name yet. I'm taking suggestions. Do you have any big plans for when we arrive? Imsin mentioned the place would be a wreck, but to me that just sounds like a lot of building material. How did you do that thing to your hair? Oh! You probably wanted to try this out. Hold it up to your eye - the small end - and point it at a distant object. It will seem to be much closer! Twist it around the middle if it all looks fuzzy to you until things become clear." She handed the spyglass over, surprisingly gently given her previous torque-heavy maneuver with her cousin. "In fact, keep it! I can make another one... assuming I can get the lenses from Calen." She could probably make her own, now that she'd seen his, but it would take longer and she had so much to work on.


Koriah, Calenthiel, & Laelia

Having stared futility in the mists for several seconds, Calenthiel lowered his spyglass and finally acknowledged Laelia's presence. The pride and eagerness had gone from his face. For Laelia, he feigns confidence and greets her with a kiss on the cheek.

"You can have mine if you like," he wags their new invention at Laelia before pressing it into her hand. "I think I may have the best eyes of us all."

As if lost to his own thoughts, he takes a few steps towards home. "As for me, I think I may turn my talents towards something else before we depart."

Koriah, Calenthiel, and Laelia

"Oh!" She'd come up to the cliffside with nothing, and now held two spyglasses in her hands. Marvelous things, even if they couldn't pierce the mist; when Koriah showed her how to use it, she did so and peered out at the mists for a moment, then swung it around to look into Koriah's face. So close! All she could see were bits and pieces of a whole that she knew was absolutely wonderful.

"These are truly an amazing thing you've made, siblings. ...May I keep them both? I have an idea." Calenthiel had turned away, towards home; he had the look on his face that made her think he was seeing things no one else could. Sometimes, she wondered about her brother. Beautiful he was, but sometimes as cold and undecipherable as the jewels he loved.

"Thank you, Calen!" She clutched both spyglasses close to her chest, exhaling happily. More treasures to go into her bag, more memories to keep and bring to the Old World. And when she made something beautiful with them, it would leave the signature of her siblings on the face of this place of strangeness. It would remind her of home.

[Nefarion Xid]

Qure-Inaria and Calenthiel

Encircling around the manse, Qure-Inaria took in the sight of the home that she would be leaving in a few days. She traced her hand alongside its curves and designs, feeling the cold dry wood rub against her fingertips. Her chest rose as her lungs inflated with the heady aroma of the warm winds blowing off the beach and rolling through the Farthest Shore. She closed her eyes, straining her mind as she tried to reconstruct and imagine every detail she had previously absorbed only to watch it melt away in her brain. Scrunching her face in irritation, Qure-Inaria opened her eyes only to see Calenthiel walking towards the Manse, and a small coy smile slipped onto her lips. Leaning against the nearby wall, Qure-Inaria feigned spotting the handsome God by accident before elegantly waving towards him. "Good morning Calenthiel, what were you doing out by the shore?"



"An experiment," he sighs and spares a look over his shoulder back to where he's left Koriah and Laelia. "A mitigated success. Nothing can be seen through the fog. I was off to the workshop to try one more thing. If it too fails here, then at least it should be a valuable tool for when we do depart."

He wore a single black pearl on a silver hook through his left ear. As one of the precious few momentos left by Na-Ualim it was envy of more than one of the children and exceedingly precious to the Muse's only son. It sharply contrasted with his alabaster skin and silvery hair, but fit perfectly with the normally dark tones of his wardrobe.

[Jade_Tarem]

Koriah

Koriah waved goodbye to her cousins and doused the kiln she'd had going - not that there was much chance of it starting trouble. Grey Bastion of Memory notwithstanding, Imsin had gotten on to her about leaving flames to burn themselves out, saying that unattended fires could burn down whole forests in the New World and that only she could prevent that. Frankly, Koriah felt that some of her cousins and siblings could afford to help, but maybe Imsin just thought she was more responsible than the rest.

Questions for later! For now, she was hungry, and she had the odd urge to go and double-check her packed belongings again. The goddess turned and headed inland, following the trails she knew so well.

[Warmatt]

Garden with Lorci

He looked over her, and smiled, seeming to appreciate her working in the garden, as in fact he would welcome any of his kin who wanted to work for a while, to prepare themselves for the world ahead. Well, that and there tended to be something soothing about the hard work, of doing it with your own hands, at least in his opinion. Keeps them grounded, close to the life giving earth. Still, his own rustic clothing stained, if easy to clean, he would smile and nod at her.

"Mornin Lorci. An everythins doin fine, jus fine." His tone is the same warm rumble it always is, as he draws near. "Was lookin fer yer actually. Was doin sum weedin earlier, and well," his hands, holding something, would move around, revealing their cargo (http://s564.photobucket.com/user/pandamonium91/media/cute-little-bunny-rabbit.jpg.html), "saw this little guy, en knew yer liked dem so..." He shrugs, the little rabbit looking at Lorci, nose twitching, eyes wide and curious.

[Othniel]

Zersetzen and Ihrmiel

Good.

"Let that be so, we will probably need all hands on the project. Maybe even sprout some extra pairs.

Just a small joke.

"As for matters of architecture, those are for Koriah and Calenthiel to work on, I reckon. But I suppose I would like to offer what help I can when the opportunity arises. I doubt it will be any time soon, once we depart, I foresee much work ahead of us."

Well, he doesn't sound daunted nor weary of his own words, somewhat eager, perhaps.

Ihrmiel

"Oh, that reminds me!" Ihrmiel interrupted, "I have patients to tend to. See you later, Zersetzen!" With a wave and a smile she was off, bare feet echoing down the hallway as Ihrmiel headed toward her room. Upon arrival, she opened the door quietly, and closed it swiftly behind her. Inside her room was a veritable menagerie of creatures she was nursing back to health. In one corner stood a cage housing a raven with a broken wing. In another was a turtle with a cracked shell. "I hope the resin holds," she muttered. Another cage held a small fox with a once-broken tail, now swiftly on the mend. Each cage or housing was hand-crafted by Ihrmiel, or one of her siblings when more craft-knowledge was needed, and made in such a way as to offer the animal a sense of its natural surroundings. After greeting each of her patients, Ihrmiel spent some time feeding them all. Then her own stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had yet to eat the day. "You all rest up now! I'll be back to check on you later." Slipping back out of her room, Ihrmiel made for the kitchen to see about some food. After that, perhaps a visit to Koriah would be prudent. Ihrmiel had some ideas...

[AlexanderML]

Garden with Lorci

He looked over her, and smiled, seeming to appreciate her working in the garden, as in fact he would welcome any of his kin who wanted to work for a while, to prepare themselves for the world ahead. Well, that and there tended to be something soothing about the hard work, of doing it with your own hands, at least in his opinion. Keeps them grounded, close to the life giving earth. Still, his own rustic clothing stained, if easy to clean, he would smile and nod at her.

"Mornin Lorci. An everythins doin fine, jus fine." His tone is the same warm rumble it always is, as he draws near. "Was lookin fer yer actually. Was doin sum weedin earlier, and well," his hands, holding something, would move around, revealing their cargo (http://s564.photobucket.com/user/pandamonium91/media/cute-little-bunny-rabbit.jpg.html), "saw this little guy, en knew yer liked dem so..." He shrugs, the little rabbit looking at Lorci, nose twitching, eyes wide and curious.
"Aww it's adorable!" Says Lorci going over to pet the baby rabbit, his fears practically leaving him looking at the sweet thing, his voice even reaching normal levels (which is almost squeaky, not quite but close). The little pain in his chest growing a lot lighter looking at the sweet thing.

"How old are you little one?" Says Lorci to the rabbit as he gently uses a finger to pet it. "One and a half, two weeks? Though I'd guess closer to the former. You do look hungry little one..." Lorci frowns.

"Where did you find him Matthias? It's not good to take them from their nests this young." Lorci says with concern, hoping that Matthias just took the rabbit form it's nest, or maybe when it was out and about with it's brothers and sisters with the mother looking over them.

[Warmatt]

Garden with Lorci]
"Aww it's adorable!" Says Lorci going over to pet the baby rabbit, his fears practically leaving him looking at the sweet thing, his voice even reaching normal levels (which is almost squeaky, not quite but close). The little pain in his chest growing a lot lighter looking at the sweet thing.

[B]"How old are you little one?" Says Lorci to the rabbit as he gently uses a finger to pet it. "One and a half, two weeks? Though I'd guess closer to the former. You do look hungry little one..." Lorci frowns.

"Where did you find him Matthias? It's not good to take them from their nests this young." Lorci says with concern, hoping that Matthias just took the rabbit form it's nest, or maybe when it was out and about with it's brothers and sisters with the mother looking over them.

Looking at the rabbit, now in someone else's hands, Matthias would shake his head a bit. "Nah, found the little feller under the blueberry bush, by 'is er 'er lonesome." He shakes his head a bit, a somewhat rueful smile on his face. "An since yer good with the little critters, well, though er yer." He gives a shrug, the little rabbit in Lorci's hands.

And really, it always made Matthias feel better, watching Lorci brighten up like this. Really, she tended to be harder on herself then she needed to be, and this perks her right up. "I ken always look fer the mother, unless yer want to take care er the little feller?" Really, he hoped Lorci looked after the rabbit, something to lift her spirits.

[Dannir]

When both Vega and Memoria accept to help them, Stygen grins for a moment. She would celebrate that, but, for one thing, it's not like they've succeeded yet. After all... Memoria does have a point, doesn't she? She turns to Ulven. "Ah... Yeah, that's true. I mean, if it was that easy to get inside, I'd have done so a long time ago - I think all of us here would have. Have you learned anything that could help?"

She asks, with a slight frown as she worries they might not find a way in time.

[mystic1110]

Onori's path took her out of the woods onto the beginning of the disintegrating shore where the pier laid. Her hair was shorn too short for the wind to blow it, her impassive face to statuesque for the briny sea air to put a smile on her face. She looked out onto the horizon, the ocean and the fog and thought of the lawlessness that festered there. She closed her eyes and envisioned, or imagined, the serpent and its armies. She envisioned, or imagined, fire and swords and blood.

She opened her eyes and looked at the horizon - instead of fire, she now thought of scales and scrolls. Words on paper, the smell of ink attached to metal bars and chains. Rust and black liquid. The smells of justice that she had learned and memorized.

The sun did not glint off her armor, her black armor was so black and dull it almost looked like it absorbed the light. In fact those who looked at her in her carapace would have sword that the world dimmed slightly around Onori. In fact, it did not, but her armor did grow hot enough to burn skin in the sun through mere radiant heat transfer. As Onori stepped onto the beach, her armored foot dug and sank into the sand by almost an inch. The sheer weight of her bulk forcing the sand apart. She walked onward leaving clear impressions in the beach. As the sun shone down, the sand appeared white and her footprints appeared black, the shadows created by the rising sands. Black and white.

Onori walked to the foot of the pier and stopped right before stepping onto the wooden planks.

[TechnOkami]

"Sulh!" Amoros embraced his sibling. He had 11 siblings, so he wasn't that surprised to find one out here. "I'm looking over all my favorite spots on the island before we set off! What're you doing?"

Sulh & Amoros

Sulh tenderly reciprocated his embrace, then listened to his brother's question.

"I had just finished meditating in the gardens. I was on my way to the tower of our mother Maronti. I wanted to look upon it one last time."

His thoughts turned outward for a moment, thinking upon the situations of not only himself in this moment, but of his kin as well. A smile crooked up at the corner of his mouth, his eyes looking up to Amoros'.

"Would you care to join me?"

[HalfTangible]

Sulh & Amoros

Sulh tenderly reciprocated his embrace, then listened to his brother's question.

"I had just finished meditating in the gardens. I was on my way to the tower of our mother Maronti. I wanted to look upon it one last time."

His thoughts turned outward for a moment, thinking upon the situations of not only himself in this moment, but of his kin as well. A smile crooked up at the corner of his mouth, his eyes looking up to Amoros'.

"Would you care to join me?"

Amoros had already seen the tower of his mother, but it would be nice to see it with with his brother too. "Lead the way! We still got a while before dinner."

[Snowfire]

Ihrmiel nodded, falling silent. She stared at the vision of sunrise Kyra had altered, momentarily forgetting the illusion, as it finished its climb over the walls of the gardens. She inhaled deeply, thoroughly enjoying both the scenery and the company of her sister. It wouldn't be terrible to stay thus linger, but then she thought about all that had to be done in the short period of time before the godlings set sail for the Old World. All of them were hoping for something or another once they reached those shores. "Yes, hope is what we shall cling to, if all else is vain." Then, at the sound of speech behind the sisters, Ihrmiel turned to see Gronz standing behind them on the other side of the stream. She shook her head at his remark about breaking things. "I do not agree, Gronz. If something is broken, it should first be examined to see if restoration is possible. To do else is to squander the gift, for all that we have, even the things we make, are gifts of some form."

Gardens, Dawn

As Gronz left, Kyra turned back to the dawn, watching the false sunrise she'd given them begin to fade away. The peace here with her sister was very different to the peace she'd often sought alone. And it felt...better.

"You know, in a way he's right." She said quietly, patting her left arm. "When I fell all those years ago, you needed to break this a bit more to make sure it would heal." She laid her head on Ihrmiel's shoulder. "Thank you, sister. I think I needed this, all the more for not knowing that I did."


Rize and Ruyn, in the Kitchen

Rize and Ruyn were fully geared up for their travels to the Old World. Their weapons were attached to their belts, their travel sacks were fully packed and over their shoulders. The only thing missing was provisions.

"Kitchen?" Rize asked.

"Kitchen." Ruyn answered.

They stopped briefly to look at their hide-away, and at the doorway Ruyn gave the wall a soft, caressing pat. The door encased itself in stone, and was closed up now, possibly for good. Rize, without looking back, walked through the long hallway, beyond the illusion door, past the wall of illusion stone, and waited for Ruyn to catch up to open the wall of real stone. They stepped out into the Manse proper, and began to wander their way towards the kitchen.

Once inside, they looked at the quaint little kitchen that served as the haven to everyone in the family. It was - very strictly - off limits to Rize and Ruyn's... antics. This rule was set in place a long time ago, by Imsin himself, after Rize and Ruyn had slipped a whole pepper into someone's food. The result was... less than ideal. The Twins were given a harsh punishment, and didn't much care for cooking duties after that. Nor did many in the family much care to try their cooking.

Still, the kitchen was always full of food, thanks in part to Matthias for the vegetables and meat from those of the family that liked to hunt. Ruyn started going through the larder, picking out fruits and veggies, and tossing them behind his shoulder with a "Hup!", to the responding Rize catching them in his shoulder sack with a "Hey!"

They did this several times, until Rize's satchel held enough to sustain them for a few days. Then they went through the meat storage for the dried jerky made only a few days ago. Rize opened Ruyn's satchel, and the two worked together to load it for another few days of lean, travel rations. If any of the rest of the family asked, the Twins would share, but... Rize and Ruyn both knew that if anyone was asking them for food, it was because the hunger was too great to ignore. So the two loaded up, without being too greedy (but maybe a tiny bit, as it looked like no one had arrived yet to pilfer anything), and proceeded to look around the kitchen one last time.

Besides the pantry and the meat storage, the kitchen was sparse. There was a wash basin, of course, and a wood-fire stove - Rize and Ruyn barely touched the thing - that was on the wall adjacent to the outside. Other than that, the place was dominated by shelves and counters that held pots and pans of various shapes and sizes; the utensils were good items for tinkers and creators to start working with copper, if a family member expressed the interest to do so. Rize hadn't found any interest in such things, but Ruyn had a few pots that he'd made in here. He was actually considering grabbing one to take with them. If nothing else, whacking it with a stick would make a great way to wake everyone up in the mornings.

Then Kyra arrived in the Kitchen, and such thoughts were abandoned in the face of someone to... speak with. Or prank. The boys would figure it out as they went.

"Kyra!"

The Kitchen

After Ihrmiel had left to pursue her next task, Kyra had stayed to watch the last pieces of her sunrise fade into the grey, then walked the gardens back to the manse. On her way she'd collected several freshly ripe peppers, as she'd been becoming increasingly aware of her own hunger. Getting up before dawn and not eating until well after it had probably been one of her less than wise decisions of the day. She just hoped that there were eggs left in the pantry. Cooking for herself was something she'd learnt out of necessity, given her often extremely sporadic eating habits. When she was well she would eat with the family, share in their lives and be part of them. In worse times it was rare that even her closest friends saw her unless they went looking for her. So she'd learned through painful trial and error, with a bit of unasked for but still given help from Ihrmiel, to make food for herself.

Today was not a day where she had to make food for herself, but she wanted to. It wasn't a desire to be antisocial, simply a desire for a simple joy of creation with little stress. She'd check her packing late in the day, but she was quite sure that she hadn't missed anything. Meeting the twins was a surprise however, although given the manner in which they'd greeted her she gave some faint hope to the idea that this was not in fact a prank they'd planned.

Kyra had never quite been sure of how to deal with Rize and Ruyn, although she'd had some arguments with them before. She shared a powerful similarity of ability with them, yet she'd never quite been able to see eye-to-eye with their usage of it. If they had an opinion on her own, she'd never heard it. Yet in the end they were family, and so she loved them. Leaving aside the fact that she refused to let her guard down around them, ever since that one incident. She wouldn't confirm it, but the twins were quite probably the main reason that she'd learned to shape her own magic in a protective veil, a curtain of power that followed her everywhere. Where many of her siblings had armor, or shields, or both, Kyra had this. It was not to say she was the only so gifted, simply that she knew her own way and few of her siblings had shared with her their own.

On their greeting, she considered her options. She could have left the peppers and returned later, but she was actually rather hungry. And although the twins had never enjoyed cooking since they'd pranked an entire meal, they did their fair share at the table. And she was, she hoped, correct in the fact that if she offered them a breakfast they might be able to have a simple conversation. Which would be much nicer than fending off pranks, at least right now.

"Are you raiding the kitchen again?" She chuckled. "You'd think that you never ate at all, you're down here so much." She held up the mild peppers she'd collected from the garden. "I was going to make some breakfast, would you like some? Assuming you haven't stolen all the eggs again." She was never quite sure what they did with the eggs they took. Although it might be for the better that she'd never found out.

[Gengy]

The Kitchen

After Ihrmiel had left to pursue her next task, Kyra had stayed to watch the last pieces of her sunrise fade into the grey, then walked the gardens back to the manse. On her way she'd collected several freshly ripe peppers, as she'd been becoming increasingly aware of her own hunger. Getting up before dawn and not eating until well after it had probably been one of her less than wise decisions of the day. She just hoped that there were eggs left in the pantry. Cooking for herself was something she'd learnt out of necessity, given her often extremely sporadic eating habits. When she was well she would eat with the family, share in their lives and be part of them. In worse times it was rare that even her closest friends saw her unless they went looking for her. So she'd learned through painful trial and error, with a bit of unasked for but still given help from Ihrmiel, to make food for herself.

Today was not a day where she had to make food for herself, but she wanted to. It wasn't a desire to be antisocial, simply a desire for a simple joy of creation with little stress. She'd check her packing late in the day, but she was quite sure that she hadn't missed anything. Meeting the twins was a surprise however, although given the manner in which they'd greeted her she gave some faint hope to the idea that this was not in fact a prank they'd planned.

Kyra had never quite been sure of how to deal with Rize and Ruyn, although she'd had some arguments with them before. She shared a powerful similarity of ability with them, yet she'd never quite been able to see eye-to-eye with their usage of it. If they had an opinion on her own, she'd never heard it. Yet in the end they were family, and so she loved them. Leaving aside the fact that she refused to let her guard down around them, ever since that one incident. She wouldn't confirm it, but the twins were quite probably the main reason that she'd learned to shape her own magic in a protective veil, a curtain of power that followed her everywhere. Where many of her siblings had armor, or shields, or both, Kyra had this. It was not to say she was the only so gifted, simply that she knew her own way and few of her siblings had shared with her their own.

On their greeting, she considered her options. She could have left the peppers and returned later, but she was actually rather hungry. And although the twins had never enjoyed cooking since they'd pranked an entire meal, they did their fair share at the table. And she was, she hoped, correct in the fact that if she offered them a breakfast they might be able to have a simple conversation. Which would be much nicer than fending off pranks, at least right now.

"Are you raiding the kitchen again?" She chuckled. "You'd think that you never ate at all, you're down here so much." She held up the mild peppers she'd collected from the garden. "I was going to make some breakfast, would you like some? Assuming you haven't stolen all the eggs again." She was never quite sure what they did with the eggs they took. Although it might be for the better that she'd never found out.

"Us?"

"Raid the Kitchen?"

"Never!"

"Imsin would have Laelia tan our hides."

"And she'd use paint."

"That we couldn't wash off."

"But your offer of a meal?"

"We didn't take any eggs." Ruyn grinned. The implied, unsaid words, were this time. "Isn't it getting a bit late for breakfast, however? And wasn't Imsin planning a feast later tonight?"

"True. We'd better not. Though we'll give you space to make your own meal, if you want."

"We wish to stay hungry."

"So Kyra," Rize began, with a smile on his lips, "What are your thoughts on leaving our home for the Old World?"

Ruyn gave his brother a questioning glare. Was Rize really not done with this topic?

[DoomHat]

"Do you have a plan though? I have some ideas but they're shaky at best." Memoria focuses on Ulven as she asks for his ideas... He is the finder after all, even if Vega could be called the sneak of the four.

Stygen turns to Ulven. "Ah... Yeah, that's true. I mean, if it was that easy to get inside, I'd have done so a long time ago - I think all of us here would have. Have you learned anything that could help?"

Ulven stroked his heavy jaw with his blocking fingers and made rumbling hum as he considered.

After a moment he answered, whispering "Checked every adjacent wall. Found no secret passages. Thinnest wall about half a foot thick. Breaking through possible, but very hard. Never checked much of tower's outside wall, no hand holds, need special tools. Never tried to force lock. There is lock, handle no budge on own. Nothing happens when knock on door. I don't know locks. Good with traps. Can do and undo camouflage. No good with locks."

[AlexanderML]

Garden with Lorci[b]]

Looking at the rabbit, now in someone else's hands, Matthias would shake his head a bit. "Nah, found the little feller under the blueberry bush, by 'is er 'er lonesome." He shakes his head a bit, a somewhat rueful smile on his face. "An since yer good with the little critters, well, though er yer." He gives a shrug, the little rabbit in Lorci's hands.

And really, it always made Matthias feel better, watching Lorci brighten up like this. Really, she tended to be harder on herself then she needed to be, and this perks her right up. "I ken always look fer the mother, unless yer want to take care er the little feller?" Really, he hoped Lorci looked after the rabbit, something to lift her spirits.

Lorci was kind of torn at the moment as to what to do. Lorci thought that taking the rabbit as the wrong option, the evil one, because she'd be taking it away from it's family and having it just live alone most of the day. But Lorci really wanted to keep the cute little thing, it's presence was making her feel a lot happier than usual.

"Don't worry Matthias I can take care of it. Though I-I'd need help feeding it, without it's mother..."

She looks down to the baby rabbit.

"What name should I give you little one? What do you think of Cookie? Your fur reminds me of one..."

When I said earlier I meant by days/weeks. End of scene? I guess so unless you have something to say.

[TechnOkami]

Amoros had already seen the tower of his mother, but it would be nice to see it with with his brother too. "Lead the way! We still got a while before dinner."

Sulh & Amoros

His head nodded in response; Sulh lead Amoros to the tower, his bare feet moving forward along the rock path once again.

A thought then came to Sulh, and he carried that thought to the one who followed behind him.

"Tell me Amoros, what are your favorite places? Where have you gone and what will you remember visiting before we embark?"

[Robert Blackletter]

[QUOTE=AlexanderML;19962277]"Not this time... I-I'm just sad about some things I'd like to forget. It-it's not anyone's fault but my own!" Says Lorci answering quickly as she wipes her face. She did not want to discuss it, just makes her feel worse.

Lorci tires to lead him along to continue their talk moving. "How are you?" Says Lorci, unable to make up a conversation topic other than that. She wanted to talk to at least try and make Darhaus happy.





I'm not good, I keep having this strange dream, about when we return to the world. It start well but it all ways ends in blood. Usually I would go exploring or hunting and exhast himself but I cant seem to do that any more. I think i fear the new world and what it may bring. What about you Lorci do you look forward to leaving this lace

[AlexanderML]

[QUOTE=AlexanderML;19962277]"Not this time... I-I'm just sad about some things I'd like to forget. It-it's not anyone's fault but my own!" Says Lorci answering quickly as she wipes her face. She did not want to discuss it, just makes her feel worse.

Lorci tires to lead him along to continue their talk moving. "How are you?" Says Lorci, unable to make up a conversation topic other than that. She wanted to talk to at least try and make Darhaus happy.





I'm not good, I keep having this strange dream, about when we return to the world. It start well but it all ways ends in blood. Usually I would go exploring or hunting and exhast himself but I cant seem to do that any more. I think i fear the new world and what it may bring. What about you Lorci do you look forward to leaving this lace

Lorci is not really sure how to respond to his problem, or even question. Lorci just gives a nod to show that he was listening to the part about Darhau's dreams and gives a awkward "Oh, umm..." because Loric might look like a terrible, ugly monster (really...), but Lorci is just a squeamish little child on the inside. This talk of bloodshed makes Lorci pretty uncomfortable, not just because of the topic, but because Lorci does not know how to help.

Trying to answer the question as to what Lorci was looking forward to was not really the most complicated answer. "I'm not sure what I'm looking forward to.... Maybe just finding some nice people and places."

[TheDarkDM]

As the children of the gods went about their last few hours before the beginning of their grand adventure, the light suffusing the Farthest Shore waxed, and then waned. It was never truly night in that land beyond time, nor truly day, but as the silver faded into grey twilight a bell was heard across the isle. It was not a loud sound, but it was pure, and somehow sad. But perhaps that was simply the tug of old memories. For all who dwelt on the Farthest Shore knew the sound of that bell, Imsin's bell, that called the children of the gods from adventures and discoveries uncounted to gather for their evening meal. It seemed Imsin had finished whatever great labor had consumed his attention those past few days, and now wished to see the children he had raised.

The dining room was much as the children remembered it, the long ebon table that bore the scars of years of rough use by divine infants turned divine youths turned divines in truth. The thrones of the Old Gods remained, Imsin's standing alongside those of his kin in characteristic humility, the throne of Shan-Herai remaining at the head of the table in deference to the lord of the Old Gods. But on the walls above the thrones now hung no fewer than twenty-three brilliant tapestries depicting the faces of the the children of the gods, and on the long benches on either side of the table sat twenty-three books bound in silver leather that bore their names in the divine script. Imsin stood before his low chair at the foot of the table awaiting the coming gods, putting the last touches on the burning candles that stood amidst plates of potatoes baked and mashed, carrots braised with celery and onions, and whole chickens roasted in coriander garlic, and ginger. On other platters sat thinly sliced loins of beef grilled over an open flame, fried peppers with onion and hot sausage, and long strips of asparagus baked beneath a blanket of soft cheese. These were accompanied by baskets of steaming fresh bread with terrines of butter, platters of fresh tomatoes, pears, and oranges, wheels of hard cheeses alongside bowls of leafy greens, and frosted pewter pitchers holding lemonade, water, buttermilk, and beer. But most impressive was the centerpiece, a dish that seemed conjured from one of Imsin's stories, a whole boar holding an apple in its tusked mouth, roasted flesh glistening beneath a savory glaze. Clearly, Imsin intended this last night of theirs to be a special one.

As each of the children entered, they were met with a characteristic smile and an uncharacteristic embrace from their guardian. For all it was clear that Imsin loved them, expressions of affection were hard for the Old God of Tales. In another life, he had been given to recounting love rather than feeling it, but now he held his children in his arms in silent proof of his feeling. Finally, the last child arrived, and he bid them take up the books awaiting them.

"Go on, feel free to look inside. I can see Rize and Ruyn will explode if they don't satisfy their curiosity."

He smiled warmly at the twins' apparent impatience. He would miss them terribly, it seemed.

[Kasanip]

Vega and Amoros
Vega nodded about each described memory. Some memories she already knew. Some were things that weren't remembered. Some were things that she didn't know.
She felt the heavy hand on her shoulder and closed her eyes.
"I don't know what to bring." She said.
"I haven't prepared anything. We're going away, but when I try to think of useful or helpful things, I can't think of anything."
Her eyes flew open as if she was surprised she had said the words. So saying, she regarded Amoros with expecting eyes.

Sulh & Vega
Thinking of her mother made Vega's hand twitch. She was restless, and the memories of her mother made her hands want to play the harp. Weaving together, making the harmony, the smile and approval were proud memories.
Vega had been quiet, but since their divine parents had left, she had become more introverted. That was the time when she had locked away and hidden her fears. She had become a confidant of many of those words, and she dutifully locked them away, too. If she could be strong through those painful times, that was the figure of Vega's strength and support for her divine siblings.
However, to hear the pain and fears of her brother again could resonate a little. Of course, she was anxious about the trip, too.
Vega crossed the distance impulsively. In this way she appeared next to Sulh quietly. Gently she reached out to touch his forehead and cheek.
"I don't know what will happen when we leave. I don't think anyone knows. However, I am certain we will always be together, brother. Will many things change? It is a whole new experience. I don't know what to expect. Will it be scary like some of the stories? Maybe. Will it be wonderful like the murals and paintings? Maybe. Probably many things will change. However I think that some things like our bonds will never change. So, even if we must leave this island, I am happy we will go together, brother."
She rarely spoke so much, to share her deep thoughts and feelings, but the revealed compassion and thoughts could only be emphasized from her soft voice and gesture.

[mystic1110]

Onori, heard the bell and dutifully turned away from the pier without even stepping on the wood. She walked back to the manse, clinically stepped over her own footprints in the sand. This time her journey was uneventful. There were no uncharacteristic pauses, no symbolic choices to make. She didn't even walk in a mathematical straight line for the challenge of it. No, instead she walked the most efficient route, taking the shortest time, with no wasted steps or breaths.

She was the first to arrive at the dinner table. She nodded respectively at Imsin, but no more - no smile, no words - and walked to her place at the table, where a book with her name writ in divine words laid.

She picked it up the book, but did not open it at first, and sat down on her seat. She placed the book in front of her and only then carefully opened it with her gauntleted hands. She treated the pages so carefully, for while she was a woman of the sword, she was also a scholar and a judge and paper was precious to her.

To those of her family walking in later, they would be treated to the familiar sight of Onori, wearing her black full plate, terrible sword by her side, hunched over and intently reading a manuscript on the table.

[Gengy]

"Go on, feel free to look inside. I can see Rize and Ruyn will explode if they don't satisfy their curiosity."

He smiled warmly at the twins' apparent impatience. He would miss them terribly, it seemed.

Rize and Ruyn

In their hands, each twin held their copy of Imsin's books. Their two books, however, were different; upon the binding, so carefully crafted by Imsin himself, were lovely lettering. For the Twin Tricksters, they were named 'Rize: Volume I' and 'Ruyn: Volume II'. Though others had single volumes, for the two brothers who walked side by side in nearly all things, even the books themselves were paired.

Both twins looked at each other, corresponding books in hand, and without a word, swapped books. Though they were, as Imsin said, quite eager to satisfy their curiosity, only when Rize held Ruyn's book, and Ruyn held Rize's book, did they attempt to open them. The twins did not even bother to sit down before they did so, though they did proceed to lean on each and walk towards their seats as they flipped through the pages.

[Warmatt]

He sighed, as his hand brushed the worn table, the chair a simple one, not fancy in the least, wood carved lovingly by hand, polished by hand, and worn down by the person who sat there, even as he looked over everything. Oh, he looked forward to the great work. He may not have been a warrior, he may not be one to combat the evils of the old world, left broken and torn in the serpents wake with a blade or mace in hand, but he would do what he could. He would help the mortals stand, and he would provide a base, a simple little shire, that would feed and arm those who do the more violent work.

Still, as he takes up his book, looking for all the world like a Farmers Almanac, he would read, pouring over the volumes, a corncob pipe in the corner of his mouth, the rather strange straw hat, with it's wide brim over the edge of his face, as he reads, silently, though the brown eyes underneath would look about when each of his kin would enter, before returning to the book.

[HalfTangible]

Sulh & Amoros

His head nodded in response; Sulh lead Amoros to the tower, his bare feet moving forward along the rock path once again.

A thought then came to Sulh, and he carried that thought to the one who followed behind him.

"Tell me Amoros, what are your favorite places? Where have you gone and what will you remember visiting before we embark?"The grove where Qure-Inaria and I first played... the old cove the whole family used to swim at... there was a cave... there's a litter of rabbits I paid a visit to... Lots of places."


As the children of the gods went about their last few hours before the beginning of their grand adventure, the light suffusing the Farthest Shore waxed, and then waned. It was never truly night in that land beyond time, nor truly day, but as the silver faded into grey twilight a bell was heard across the isle. It was not a loud sound, but it was pure, and somehow sad. But perhaps that was simply the tug of old memories. For all who dwelt on the Farthest Shore knew the sound of that bell, Imsin's bell, that called the children of the gods from adventures and discoveries uncounted to gather for their evening meal. It seemed Imsin had finished whatever great labor had consumed his attention those past few days, and now wished to see the children he had raised.

The dining room was much as the children remembered it, the long ebon table that bore the scars of years of rough use by divine infants turned divine youths turned divines in truth. The thrones of the Old Gods remained, Imsin's standing alongside those of his kin in characteristic humility, the throne of Shan-Herai remaining at the head of the table in deference to the lord of the Old Gods. But on the walls above the thrones now hung no fewer than twenty-three brilliant tapestries depicting the faces of the the children of the gods, and on the long benches on either side of the table sat twenty-three books bound in silver leather that bore their names in the divine script. Imsin stood before his low chair at the foot of the table awaiting the coming gods, putting the last touches on the burning candles that stood amidst plates of potatoes baked and mashed, carrots braised with celery and onions, and whole chickens roasted in coriander garlic, and ginger. On other platters sat thinly sliced loins of beef grilled over an open flame, fried peppers with onion and hot sausage, and long strips of asparagus baked beneath a blanket of soft cheese. These were accompanied by baskets of steaming fresh bread with terrines of butter, platters of fresh tomatoes, pears, and oranges, wheels of hard cheeses alongside bowls of leafy greens, and frosted pewter pitchers holding lemonade, water, buttermilk, and beer. But most impressive was the centerpiece, a dish that seemed conjured from one of Imsin's stories, a whole boar holding an apple in its tusked mouth, roasted flesh glistening beneath a savory glaze. Clearly, Imsin intended this last night of theirs to be a special one.

As each of the children entered, they were met with a characteristic smile and an uncharacteristic embrace from their guardian. For all it was clear that Imsin loved them, expressions of affection were hard for the Old God of Tales. In another life, he had been given to recounting love rather than feeling it, but now he held his children in his arms in silent proof of his feeling. Finally, the last child arrived, and he bid them take up the books awaiting them.

"Go on, feel free to look inside. I can see Rize and Ruyn will explode if they don't satisfy their curiosity."

He smiled warmly at the twins' apparent impatience. He would miss them terribly, it seemed.

Amoros returned the embrace gladly and warmly. He held his guardian for a minute or so before moving on to the book. He looked it over with admiration before cracking it open to read. He loved gifts.


Vega and Amoros
Vega nodded about each described memory. Some memories she already knew. Some were things that weren't remembered. Some were things that she didn't know.
She felt the heavy hand on her shoulder and closed her eyes.
"I don't know what to bring." She said.
"I haven't prepared anything. We're going away, but when I try to think of useful or helpful things, I can't think of anything."
Her eyes flew open as if she was surprised she had said the words. So saying, she regarded Amoros with expecting eyes.

Amoros' smile grew a little sad. "No one can know what you want to bring, save for you."

"If you want more practical items, a good length of rope is always good. Something to sleep in on long journeys - I'm sure you'll be making plenty of those." He brought a hand to his chin, thinking harder now. "Make sure your pack is only half-full, so you can get supplies from the new world. Some food, maybe? I figure the ship will have that, but if you have anything you don't want to share, pack it yourself. Tint and flinder... Some clothes..."

[Draken]

Dinner Bell

Zersetzen's seat was a peculiar thing, wholly marred by burn marks, starting out as the fruit of a small accident he once had with his flasks, and then expanded upon to keep the whole object conform to a specific look. All in all, it had looked like a wreck for a long time now, a very sturdy wreck, but still.

The book in front of him held his full attention, more so than the banquet, for the whole time that he had sat there, from his arrival not long after Onori until the last of his siblings and cousins had arrived. The name on the cover written in the dull yellow hue of silver tarnish.

But he held back on looking into it until the announcement was given. And did not quite jump at the item at that point.

[5ColouredWalker]

Vega, Memoria, Stygen, Ulven and the Dinner Bell


After a moment he answered, whispering "Checked every adjacent wall. Found no secret passages. Thinnest wall about half a foot thick. Breaking through possible, but very hard. Never checked much of tower's outside wall, no hand holds, need special tools. Never tried to force lock. There is lock, handle no budge on own. Nothing happens when knock on door. I don't know locks. Good with traps. Can do and undo camouflage. No good with locks."

Memoria nods slowly, opening her mouth before the bells rings out, a slight frown taking her face for a moment before a smile returns.
"After dinner then... We should chose the tower carefully, and Ismin can help with that. I've an idea for finding out how to open them, without trying to break it open... I'll join you at dinner soon."

Memoria hops off the tower, an action that would leave most broken at the bottom of it, but for a demigod just leaves her with jarred feet as she lands smoothly on the ground below, rising from a slightly crouched position Maria slowly walks towards the boat, no doubt to put her current book in her pack.


Dinner
Memoria's chair is as it began, a simple thing, but beautiful in make. It has not been marred by passage of time nor dinnertime hijinks, as every-time something happens to it Memoria careful restores it to it's original state. As such, while others might have marvellous thrones or weathered stools, Memoria has a slightly taller than usual chair of dark wood, varnished in such a manner that the very grains of the wood show through as if they were an artist's designs, appearing as bold images against the wood.

While Rize and Ruyn could explode in their curiosity, Memoria was far more patient, watching her several of her siblings gather their books, watching their reactions before she picks up her own, her face one of careful curiosity as she picks up the book, opening it as she walks to the bench... Fortunately, walking places while reading and not hitting things is a skill she's long since mastered.

[AlexanderML]

Dinner (After the talk):

Lorci was the last to arrive, running in panting. Lorci had heard the bell, finished making it's bed (in the evening), and forgotten to go to the feast. Lorci was laying down on it's bed trying to pass the time with a book that it's already read when it remembered that it was dinner time.

The hug that was offered by Imsin was returned heartedly from Lorci (a strange act for Lorci), though that is because Lorci thought that it might not ever get the chance to do so again. Just thinking that made Lorci tear up a bit, Imsin's always been a good caretaker, and Lorci would miss the filling times he's given Lorci.

Though sitting down on the bench the farthest place away from everyone else as it could, Lorci really did not pay attention to the book after it's stomach grumbled loudly. While Lorci might look like it's near starvation, Lorci ate five times as much as anyone else on a day to day basis. Lorci just never gains any weight no matter how much it eats.

At the first polite opportunity Lorci starts to dig in and eat the food it can near it, not really in a conversational mood (as ever), and seemed to be focusing on it's food more this day. Something was on it's mind, as everyone's, what is going to happen once they leave.

[TechnOkami]

Sulh & Vega

To hear those words, words of comfort and compassion from one usually so reserved and quiet as his sister, words he could not give to himself... that broke Sulh. With pained eyes he looked at Vega once again, then shut the closed. No matter how tightly he pressed his eyelids together the tears would not stop. He did not bawl so much as whimper, trying in vain desperation to suppress all the emotion that was flooding from him. He leaned forward, and sobbed. Quietly and gently his head met Vega's standing lap as he wept. He sat there weeping until his eyes could give no more, red eyes still damp to the touch gazing up once more. Sulh raised his hands to his eyes and rubbed what weariness he could from them. To his great surprise he felt... calmer, more relaxed and at ease than he had been all day. The barest of smiles drew itself upon Sulh's womanly face.

He stood then, ascending several inches above his sister's height. His arms wrapped around her, and he gently hugged.

"Thank you sister. I sorely needed that."

Sulh at The Feast

Sulh stepped into the long dining hall, its table further crafted upon by his twenty two siblings through sheer use. Even then, it was a mesh of work between the Old and the New. It was a sight to behold. But admiring and feasting would come later; respect to the elder must be given its due. He approached Imsin, that sweet old man of wisdom and patience, intelligibility unfathomable, and thought fondly of the time they had together, a fondness only crafted by one with two mothers, and an adoptive father of twenty three children as varied as Rize and Ryun's impulsive decisions. Imsin offered a paternal embrace, and Sulh returned it in kind. After the release, he reached his lips to that old, wrinkled, endlessly knowing forehead, and left it with a tender, heartfelt kiss. Chocolate eyes met those silver retainers, and a somber smile was released unto flight.

"I will miss our conversations."

A single lithe hand rested upon that ancient shoulder for a moment all too brief, and left it bare once more.

Sulh took his seat besides Onori, and looked upon his book. Upon its front was his name, etched with care. Sulh opened his tome, and inspected the contents therein. Though silver in color, the tooling upon the ancient leather seemed to swim and churn with the flow and ebb of water, reshaping itself as it was held. One could say it was a reflection of the reader's emotions through unrestrained pattern.

Perhaps the most interesting thing though was not when he took up his book but when he took his seat, for surely he pulled at something to sit beside his void-clad sister, but nothing was there. It was only as he took a seat did some change begin to occur. In fact, it was the opening of the floodgates. Beneath Sulh came a multitude of materials; gold, silver, marble, stone, wood, bronze, all a cacophony of substances flowing into the other like water, shifting and writhing in organic shapes that flowed incessantly beneath and behind Sulh's form, flowing back out of and into whatever invisible thing he sat upon.

[TheDarkDM]

As the children of the gods opened the weighty tomes that awaited them, there was a brief moment of confusion. For upon the pages were inscribed the very deeds they'd undertaken that day, laid out in efficient prose by a smooth, flowing script. And perhaps more disconcertingly, more writing appeared as they read, recounting the very act of reading. At some of the looks on their faces, Imsin smiled.

"They are books of your history, that you might always remember this night, and the nights that are to come, when you stand triumphant in the fullness of your godhead. So long as you possess it, I will be not far from your side, for they are paired to the tapestries."

Imsin motioned, and the tapestries bearing the likenesses of the children of the gods faded away, replaced by shimmering images of them sitting in the dining room, as though they saw through the eyes of some invisible thing perched on the ceiling.

"With these Chronicles Triumphant at your side, I will be able to see your great accomplishments. Your mighty works. And you will know that even separated by an ocean of time I am proud of you."

He went silent, collecting himself, the slightest hint of tears showing in silver eyes.

"But enough!"

He clapped together his long, delicate fingers.

"This is a time of celebration! You stand at the vanguard of Destiny."

He sat, bidding the children that still stood to do the same, and reached out to tear free a morsel of the fresh bread.

"Tell me, how have you spent your last days on the Farthest Shore?"

[DoomHat]

"With these Chronicles Triumphant at your side, I will be able to see your great accomplishments. Your mighty works. And you will know that even separated by an ocean of time I am proud of you."

Ulven was beginning to sweat as he poured through the text, almost frantically. His face turned pale, then cherry red. The text, even now, was describing his inner thoughts, his outrage and sense of helplessness. He was confronted with the bane of his existence, a thing that could track him anywhere, everywhere, forever. If this thing fell into the wrong hands, if it fell into any hands, he could never escape, and the book's wielder could, in turn, evade him effortlessly.

Imsin sat, bidding the children that still stood to do the same, and reached out to tear free a morsel of the fresh bread.

"Tell me, how have you spent your last days on the Farthest Shore?"

Ulven slammed his book closed loudly, the sound of it echoing through the dinning hall like a crack of thunder.

"Why?", Ulven growled with a profound menace that few of his fellow godlings had ever suffered the opportunity to witness in him, "You already know. You'll know everything anyway. It amuses you to drag it out of our mouths as well?!".

Tears began steaming down his face. His lifted the book in both hands. Part of him understood Imsin's sentiment, that he meant no harm in the gift, but he still hated it. His love for his teacher and his hated of the book warred in him violently. For a long moment he was paralyzed...

[Gengy]

Rize and Ruyn began to read their books - the book of their twin - closely, occasionally eliciting comments like:

"Zee, that one would have been great!"

"Wye, really? You thought you could pull that on me?! It's so stupid... it probably would have worked."

Ruyn reached the part about when the two were discussing staying on the island. He was glad that Rize had bothered to speak up about it. It would have been rather... upsetting to find out this way. He began to think about the kind of responsibility it would be to carry this kind of book.

Rize, apparently, was all caught up, and was - quite literally - reading Ruyn's thoughts. He leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry, Wye. Think of the fun we can have, sharing books like this. We can be miles apart, and still find each other."

"Huh." Ruyn nodded. "Hadn't thought of that."

Rize raised the Volume II book in his hands, and grinned. "I know you hadn't."

Then their cousin Ulven became... upset. The point was well made, even if the anger was a bit... unusual, considering the source. Ruyn grimaced. He looked at Rize, who shared a similar expression, and the two of them coughed in unison, trying to get attention.

"Ulven." Ruyn began.

"Cousin." Rize added, softly. There was no trickery here. There was no malice, or mischief apparent in their voices. Only love and respect. They'd seen Ulven grow. They knew what he was capable of, and being upset like this only highlighted how stressful the whole situation with the Old World and the Farthest Shore was.

"We understand. We get that you may feel this as an invasion of privacy. Consider, though..."

"...perhaps Imsin only crafted the books, and has not yet bothered to look inside them?"

"They do, after all, only start from this morning."

"Do you doubt that he loves us?"

"Do you doubt that he did this for us?"

"We know tricks."

"We know mistakes."

"This?"

"Is neither."

[daelrog]

Gronz slaps the book's spine against his open palm a few times. It was good and sturdy, not as good as a club, but it would suffice if need be. He perks his ears at the description of the book, flipping through the first few pages, chuckling at the time had tried to stop a boulder rolling down a cliff and had lost, or when he had lost a wager and had to walk the circumference of the island proclaiming that he was a fragile little boy who was attracted to inanimate objects. Good times.

His brow furrowed when he continued to flip through to see only blank pages. He held his book high over his head. "So if Gronz writes in this book that Gronz is the strongest then it will be true? It is good. Truly this is a great gift, Imsin!"

[mystic1110]

Onori closed the book, after rereading of her own studies and training. The book was written in the dry sterile language of her own thoughts. It read like an academic treatise on the law. A manual on martial fitness. There were even diagrams of the torture techniques she learned for the administration of justice, and anatomy charts for the moving of muscles during a spar. Even troop movements and siege strategy were inscribed within. However, every now and then were words scripted in angry slashing letters in juxtaposition to the neat blocky text of the rest of the tome, words that screamed that all chaos and snakes shall die screaming in the purging cold fires of her eyes. But those sentences of fury were drowned in formulaic and dull paragraphs.

She said nothing at first. She merely closed the book and looked back at Ismin with her grey lifeless eyes devoid of anything resembling true appreciation or condemnation. Then with some thought she rumbled her judgement in a heavy voice that was hard to ascribe any femininity to.

Thank you Ismin. It was useful to examine one's own thoughts in such a clinical manner. I however believe that these tomes must be destroyed. They would be too dangerous in the hands of the enemy, and their benefits do not outweigh their risks.

[Draken]

Zersetzen closed his book after reading it with some care. All too many pages had smudged bits of text straying from lines of thought he recalled himself scraping. Vicious ideas those were, and altogether cruel scenarios he had caught himself envisioning and then abandoning due to the sight of one of his siblings.

"I would be more worried about any of us getting their hands on each other's books than the enemy."

"Just carry it on yourself and the enemy would most likely already have you by all rights dead if they got their hands on it, how useful would your biography be to them, at that point? And that is on the consideration that they don't have other safeguards. There is some potent magic on them, after all."

Well, watching Rize and Ruyn swap books made that point weaker to hold, but who can say how things worked on that side.

He opened the book again on the last page. Well, there were more of those vicious, cruel scenarios writing themselves in again, was he seriously always this negative?

[mystic1110]

Onori turns her grey gaze and nods politely at Zersetzen. Liked was not the correct word, but she held him in high regard. He was clean, conscientious, obedient and efficient. All qualities she admired.

You are correct. It is important for us to maintain our collective cohesion in the face of the dangers we shall face. Nothing is more likely to tear apart our familial and familiar bonds than these books. We must choose their destruction or have them bound to our person like chains and manacles, weighing down our bodies and minds forevermore.

[HalfTangible]

Amoros hugged the book to his chest. "Well I love it! It's a great gift, Ismin, and I will treasure it always."

Ungrateful *****.

[Othniel]

Ihrmiel

Ihrmiel took her book up and leafed through the pages. There was the dawn ritual she shared with Kyra, and the words she had thereafter with Gronz. There was the time she spent tending to the wounded animals in her room. And there was the description of the simple but important request she made of Koriah, asking for several tools to aid in her healing attempts. A mix of surprise and delight overwhelmed any other emotions Ihrmiel might have felt, and she looked over at Imsin. "You will always be watching, Imsin? Forever?" And then another question surfaced. "What would happen if someone were to attempt writing into the books?"

[Jade_Tarem]

Koriah

Koriah took up her own book and examined it with enough intensity that she simply forgot to sit down. When she was done leafing through it, and watching the ongoing narration, she looked up, processing the opinions of her cousins and half-siblings. "I don't even know if enemies are the real problem. Do you intend to watch us at all times, Imsin? Some things are perhaps left private. And... how does it work? Is this tied to our divinity? Our fates? What happens when the haven's decay reaches the tapestries? The working is incredible, the generosity likewise, but... I don't know that I want such a thing tied to me constantly."

[AlexanderML]

Dinner:

Lorci tries to move a hand to open the book all about her and her personal thoughts, but Lorci's hand trembles and falls back onto the task of the feast. Lorci becomes uncomfortably depressed looking.

Lorci felt hurt by the book's existence, it mocked Lorci, it was nothing more than a reminder of how horrible she is. While Lorci 100% knew logically this was false, she felt betrayed by Imsin, it was like he personally attack her.

"Thank you Imisn... I'll take care of it." Lorci mumbles. If it were not for Lorci's love of Imsin, she'd destroy the book the first chance she got.

Lorci had nothing good to say about it's last few days here so just clamed up even more and cried inside it's head, letting only a glazed look show on it's face as it barley listened to the rest of the others here. Only Imsin's words carried her attention now.

[Warmatt]

There was a frown on the gruff face of Matthias, as his kin share their thoughts and feelings, as he places the book down and shakes his head. "Imsin, yer raised us. Yer know us." He sighs, moving over to Lorci, giving her a pat on the back, even as he makes his round to Ulven. "Yer should know that a good few er us, well, this would not sit kindly with 'em." Moving back to his seat, there is an understanding, if disappointed look in his eyes. "I know yer going ter miss us, but..."

The farmer sighs. Really, it was a farewell feast, but the gift, while thoughtful....

[TechnOkami]

Sulh & The Feast

Sulh bristled at his kin's sudden outburst of emotion, raising his head from the tome that not only writ his perturbed state with script but showed it through the turbulent state of the book's external covering. Sulh ascended from whence he sat.

"Ulven."

He stepped out from between the table and the bench.

"Brother."

Sulh approached him, resting a single hand upon a firm, strong shoulder.

"Please... calm yourself. Breathe. Your being upset is understandable, but that is no reason for you to flail about like a child. We are better than that. You are better than that. Emotions unstoppered only leaves a mess of clouded judgement. But you are right to feel the way you do Ulven. Yet so are you Onori. Even so, this gift is..."

Sulh stopped for a brief moment to way his emotions. There were many of them afloat within the sea of his heart, all churning slowly with their own independent pushes and pulls.

"I must... confess, I do not wholly know how to feel about this gift. While introspection into ourselves is indeed an interesting and good tool for self reflection, information like this would be dangerous in the wrong hands. Is there a way to bind these to our person so only we can summon our tome when we will? I hold no malice against the book or your wanting to see our deeds and watch us grow; I am, however, apprehensive were these to be read by those who would use their contents for their own means."

[5ColouredWalker]

Memoria listens to the other's opinions a while before she speaks.
"I had given thought to such an item for myself, as it would make my task endlessly easier, and given this place's safety I worry little, and am greatful for the gift in the spirit it was given and in my desire for it... I do however understand why others would not be so appreciative. As for today, I have mostly been catalouging, though in part I've worked through art. I am however considering how to enter our father's, mother's, uncle's and aunt's towers, as one last 'excursion' before we go."

Memoria begins adding food to her plate, her preference seeming to be of roasted root vegetables, though a helping of beef makes it's way to her plate. Despite utensils Memoria has preference for using her fingers, mostly using utensils to cut her beef into more manageable portions.

[TheDarkDM]

Imsin's eyes grew clouded at the violent reactions of some of the children, though whether in pain or introspection none could tell. However, they flashed back into dangerous focus as some expressions of dismay turned to judgement. They were his charges, his children, but they were children still. And he was an Elder God.

The walls of the manse had begun to shake as so many divine wills so close to their own flowering raged within its tiny space, threatening to unmoor the mighty house from its foundations, but as Imsin slapped the table for silence all fell still. The Farthest Shore sought to fulfill the wishes of all its inhabitants, true, but it was a construct of will. And for all their potential, the children of the gods could not yet comprehend the depth of Imsin's. With the sudden stillness came the wafting scent of old parchment and bitter iron ink, the terrible weight of history suddenly pressing down on the room. But then Imsin's hand lifted, the weight abated, and he raised both hands in a calming gesture.

"Be still children. I appreciate your discontent, but you react too hastily. To answer you, Koriah, the sight granted through the chronicles is not boundless. Set the volume aside, place it in some safe place, and so long as you move beyond its sight the tapestry will show naught. Nor is the tapestry or the book bound to you by but the gentlest of Weavings. Should a chronicle come to be destroyed, or a tapestry, it would have no effect save to separate me from you all the more."

He turned to where Ulven stood at the edge of panic and sighed.

"And the delicacy of the weaving is proof against your fears, my brave Ulven. For while I have imparted the chronicles with a measure of power, it is from your awakening sparks that they will draw continued life. Not in any measure that you would feel, but if the chronicle were too long separated from you it would wither like a rose cut from its stem. Should you lose the chronicles to some tragedy, they would do your foes little good. Even if they could read the divine script, which is a feat beyond any save yourselves and your forebears. Nor have I opened the covers to read what is inside. These were meant for your eyes."

Then the pained sigh turned to a frown, and he turned his head to Onori and Zersetzen.

"Do you truly hold your kin in so little regard, my proud judges? It is true that not all of you are cut from the same cloth, but you are siblings by blood and by the many years you have spent together on this isle. If you so fear what is to be found within those pages, consideration of them is perhaps a greater gift than I realized."

His disappointed eyes lingered a moment before turning towards Ihrmiel and Gronz, his expression softening.

"The chronicles write of their own accord - should you wish to make notes of your own, they shall find themselves in a new appendix or as notes in the margins. For the pages of the tomes are limitless - they can well endure your thoughts added to their history. But they merely reflect reality, Gronz."

He smiled.

"They do not control it."

[Kasanip]

"If you want more practical items, a good length of rope is always good. Something to sleep in on long journeys - I'm sure you'll be making plenty of those." He brought a hand to his chin, thinking harder now. "Make sure your pack is only half-full, so you can get supplies from the new world. Some food, maybe? I figure the ship will have that, but if you have anything you don't want to share, pack it yourself. Tint and flinder... Some clothes..."

Vega and Amoros

Vega nodded quickly as the suggestions were given.
"I will try." She softly said. However, there was an embarrassed and rueful sound.
Impulsively she stood up. It had become impossible to sit next to Amoros now.
However, to regard him, her eyes and expression revealed more words like "Thank you" and "I won't forget!"



Sulh & Vega

To hear those words, words of comfort and compassion from one usually so reserved and quiet as his sister, words he could not give to himself... that broke Sulh. With pained eyes he looked at Vega once again, then shut the closed. No matter how tightly he pressed his eyelids together the tears would not stop. He did not bawl so much as whimper, trying in vain desperation to suppress all the emotion that was flooding from him. He leaned forward, and sobbed. Quietly and gently his head met Vega's standing lap as he wept. He sat there weeping until his eyes could give no more, red eyes still damp to the touch gazing up once more. Sulh raised his hands to his eyes and rubbed what weariness he could from them. To his great surprise he felt... calmer, more relaxed and at ease than he had been all day. The barest of smiles drew itself upon Sulh's womanly face.

He stood then, ascending several inches above his sister's height. His arms wrapped around her, and he gently hugged.

"Thank you sister. I sorely needed that."

Sulh & Vega

Vega was silent witness to the tears of her brother. As he buried his head in her lap, she touched his head gently. In this way she was always consoled by her mother, so it was the only thing she could think of. However, in this moment, it could be said the silent sympathy and care to watch over weakness without pitying words or accusing judgement was one of the graces of Vega.
The things witnessed she would carefully hide away and guard, because she loved her family.

When Sulh stood up and embraced, Vega gently replied the hug. She didn't speak, only to look up from Sulh's chest with silver eyes regarding him as if to say "I don't mind."



As the children of the gods opened the weighty tomes that awaited them, there was a brief moment of confusion. For upon the pages were inscribed the very deeds they'd undertaken that day, laid out in efficient prose by a smooth, flowing script. And perhaps more disconcertingly, more writing appeared as they read, recounting the very act of reading. At some of the looks on their faces, Imsin smiled.

"They are books of your history, that you might always remember this night, and the nights that are to come, when you stand triumphant in the fullness of your godhead. So long as you possess it, I will be not far from your side, for they are paired to the tapestries."

Imsin motioned, and the tapestries bearing the likenesses of the children of the gods faded away, replaced by shimmering images of them sitting in the dining room, as though they saw through the eyes of some invisible thing perched on the ceiling.

"With these Chronicles Triumphant at your side, I will be able to see your great accomplishments. Your mighty works. And you will know that even separated by an ocean of time I am proud of you."

He went silent, collecting himself, the slightest hint of tears showing in silver eyes.

"But enough!"

He clapped together his long, delicate fingers.

"This is a time of celebration! You stand at the vanguard of Destiny."

He sat, bidding the children that still stood to do the same, and reached out to tear free a morsel of the fresh bread.

"Tell me, how have you spent your last days on the Farthest Shore?"

Dinner

Vega entered and hurried to embrace Imsin. Although she didn't usual speak words, her affection was usual shown with this not-returned gesture.
However, this time it was different.

That is to say, Imsin embraced her. Being held this way, Vega looked up to his face in surprise. Silently she wanted to ask why. However, she did not. Because the meaning was probably the same as to why she always did the same. And somehow tonight, maybe Imsin was a little restless, too.
And so Vega held on to the embrace as long as she could, until another sibling entered.

There were more signs and messages in the food that was prepared. The variety and splendid meal was also enchanting. However, there was something sitting on her seat at the bench. On it was a book bound in silver leather that bore her name in the divine script. She touched the letters and felt the sides. It was a perfect weight. It was a treasure.

And now Vega knew what she would bring. Although she was lost about what to pack, she had decided.
She choked back her tears and words behind a face of constellation freckles. However, she did not release the book even to eat only using one hand.
She often stared at the tapestry, to meet her silver eyes staring.
With the discussion of her divine siblings and Imsin, she was only silent and watched. However, she never released her book, and Imsin's words were comforting even though some of her siblings' words were painful.

[The_Snark]

At the Pier


Gronz's wandering leads him to the pier, where Arauru is. If one were to read Gronz's mind at that moment, they'd find it blank. A quick greeting, or thoughtful opening is not the gods' child's strong way. In way it makes Gronz a bit more pure, though perhaps in an unwanted way.

Gronz strokes his bare chin briefly considering the sharp-tongued Auraru. He'd felt the lash of her tongue in the past, and perhaps it was from her he'd first learned that words were a weapon as well. He preferred a rock, but he at least gained a respect for the alternative.

"Pier's a good place."

The comment woke Arauru from a light doze (she'd been lying on the deck to get accustomed to the way it rode at anchor, not that there was much of a swell here). Gronz, least complicated of all her kin. Sometimes that made him terribly dull; sometimes it was refreshing. Right now it was probably a little of both. She didn't fault him for that. There wasn't anything happening yet, they were all a little dull. The calm before the storm.

"It is," she agreed. "But I'll still be glad when we see the back of it. I want new places."

At Dinner

Arauru's first thought upon examining her book was not fear or resentment, but simple disappointment: her parting gift, the secret Imsin had labored over the past few days, was... a book whose contents she knew already? She didn't need that. She already knew what she'd done this morning, there wasn't any point to reading about it. Really, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed that the gift was for Imsin, a way to let him stay close to his wards.

Her heart softened a little, at that. It might be inconvenient to keep a book with her at all times - of course that would never seem like hardship to Imsin, who treasured books and kept them close as a matter of course - but she could try, for his sake. She felt for Ulven, but she wasn't made the same way, and didn't mind being watched so much.

(She gave Ulven a sympathetic glance, but no more, feeling instinctively that this hurt could not be soothed in such a public setting. Later, perhaps, when she had time and privacy on her side.)

In the wake of these thoughts, a question welled up to the surface of her mind (not for the first time). "Uncle, why are you staying behind?" she asked into the silence. "You can watch us from afar with these, but I don't understand why you need to. There's nothing to chronicle here and nobody to stay for. Our mothers and fathers went to the New World, and now we're going, and I don't see why you aren't."

She paused, but now that she'd finally said it she might as well finish. The words tumbled out in a rush; she tried for matter-of-factness, but did not quite reach it. "And don't say we need space to come into our own, or anything like that. The New World's a big place, I don't think you could stop us from growing up if you tried, and you won't. You could come with us. See what we accomplish up close. You don't have to" - she caught herself just before saying die alone - "spend the rest of your life on a lonely island crumbling into the sea."

[mystic1110]

Then the pained sigh turned to a frown, and he turned his head to Onori and Zersetzen.

"Do you truly hold your kin in so little regard, my proud judges? It is true that not all of you are cut from the same cloth, but you are siblings by blood and by the many years you have spent together on this isle. If you so fear what is to be found within those pages, consideration of them is perhaps a greater gift than I realized."


Onori considered all the words and plainly spoke in her gruff manly voice.

Honored Uncle, it was my duty to protest these gifts of yours, as you knew it would be.

I am now however assured by your words that they would provide no strategic weakness in the hands of our opponents or sow chaos within our own ranks. The security measures you have taken in their weaving are adequate enough. Thank you.

What followed after . . . not exactly a pause . . . was something that was not exactly an admission of weakness. Call it another strategic observation. For Onori was not humble, only accurate.

Yet, I must note - as a judge, these books are the greatest temptation, one that I fear may mar me in my quest for the most just outcomes.

[Gengy]

Rize and Ruyn

With Imsin's solid declarations, and the shaking of the whole manse, the twins figured it would be fine to leave the talking to others. They had more important things to do. With everyone distracted, Rize deftly plucked a pair of feathers from a raven that was on Qure-Inaria's shoulder. The creature squawked in protest, as the older twin passed the younger twin the prizes. Ruyn took the feathers, and ducked under the table to find the legs of their half-sister, Koriah. Rubbing the tips quickly on Koriah's clothes, Ruyn soon had two feathers dripping with inky black stuff; leftovers from whatever it was that Koriah had been working on recently. Popping back up to the table proper, he shared both a grin and one of the feathers with his twin.

They opened their books - or rather, the book of their twin's - and started writing in the margins, while the two listened to the conversation, and ate their food. Ruyn was enjoying a glass of lemonade, when he caught up with Rize's thoughts.

It was with some surprise that everyone saw Ruyn slap a hand over Rize's mouth, before the older twin could speak.

"Brother, no." Ruyn whispered.

"I deserve the right to ask." Rize replied, and the two held a quick whispered conversation.

"We talked about this."

"Still..."

"He wouldn't allow it."

Rize just stared at his brother, imploringly.

"I've no part of this, Zee. And I promise that if you try it, I really will drag you if I need to."

Rize grimaced, a look that is not usually found on either twin's face, but still, stood up and asked in a clear voice, "Imsin. I know we have a duty, but... the Farthest Shore has been our home for years. Do we... do we really have to leave?"

[DoomHat]

Ulven was always very private, and somewhat feral. He usually didn't take kindly to being touched in the best of times. When Sulh brazenly pressed a hand on Ulven's shoulder, uninvited, in the midst of a nearly berserk panic, a shiver run up his spin and his eyes cleared of their tears. There was a faint red light in those eyes has Ulven turn on Sulh. He couldn't hear a thing Sulh was saying.

Imsin's shocking display of power silenced the room, and prevented Ulven's instincts from compelling him to do something... violent. Imsin turned to where Ulven stood at the edge of panic and sighed.

"And the delicacy of the weaving is proof against your fears, my brave Ulven. For while I have imparted the chronicles with a measure of power, it is from your awakening sparks that they will draw continued life. Not in any measure that you would feel, but if the chronicle were too long separated from you it would wither like a rose cut from its stem. Should you lose the chronicles to some tragedy, they would do your foes little good. Even if they could read the divine script, which is a feat beyond any save yourselves and your forebears. Nor have I opened the covers to read what is inside. These were meant for your eyes."

Ulven's eyes were still on Sulh as he absorbed Imsin's words. He smoothly grabbed Sulh's hand by the wrist and removed it from his shoulder. Then he took the book, and bundled it up against his own broad chest like something immeasurably precious. He smiled sweetly at Imsin, all forgiven, outrage given over to regret.

Wordlessly, sitting, he pressed himself against the table, cradling the book guardedly as he used one hand to pile his plate high with meat and fruits.

Ulven was happy.

[Draken]

"Do you truly hold your kin in so little regard, my proud judges? It is true that not all of you are cut from the same cloth, but you are siblings by blood and by the many years you have spent together on this isle. If you so fear what is to be found within those pages, consideration of them is perhaps a greater gift than I realized."

"For all the doom and gloom I liked the gift, the introspection that came from it was good for the soul. But I can't much help being clear and honest about the darker side of things. We are gods here, not paladins and certainly not saints."

Evoking the memory of Vyrkel's noble soldiers and of the most exalted paragons of the past as an example.

"Most of us are quite the capricious lot, in fact. If that weren't so, Onori and I would have no job. No matters to settle, no mess to clean up."

With a wry smile, Zersetzen closes his book again and holds it close to himself.

"Either way, I do hope this cover can be modified. This is one book that will have to be judged by its cover, after all."

[Dannir]

Before Dinner


[COLOR="#DAA520"]Ulven stroked his heavy jaw with his blocking fingers and made rumbling hum as he considered.

After a moment he answered, whispering "Checked every adjacent wall. Found no secret passages. Thinnest wall about half a foot thick. Breaking through possible, but very hard. Never checked much of tower's outside wall, no hand holds, need special tools. Never tried to force lock. There is lock, handle no budge on own. Nothing happens when knock on door. I don't know locks. Good with traps. Can do and undo camouflage. No good with locks."


Memoria nods slowly, opening her mouth before the bells rings out, a slight frown taking her face for a moment before a smile returns.
"After dinner then... We should chose the tower carefully, and Ismin can help with that. I've an idea for finding out how to open them, without trying to break it open... I'll join you at dinner soon."

Memoria hops off the tower, an action that would leave most broken at the bottom of it, but for a demigod just leaves her with jarred feet as she lands smoothly on the ground below, rising from a slightly crouched position Maria slowly walks towards the boat, no doubt to put her current book in her pack.


Ulven's attempts at entering the towers so far had been... Rather thorough, it would seem. Getting in, if they succeeded, would be difficult. Unfortunately, Stygen had no time to consider another method as the dinner bell interrupted her.

She opens her mouth to respond to Memoria, only for her thoughts to come at a screeching halt as she witnesses her fellow godling's choice of shortcuts. She shook her head, and went to join the others heading to the dining room.

Dinner

Having taken her place on the bench, Stygen had ended up reversing to her withdrawn tendencies of the previous days as they received the Chronicles, thinking, and listening. She looked at Ulven, with slight worry, when he reacted with anger - though she could understand the concerns, and merely hadn't voiced her own... She didn't know what to tell him. Which is why she was happy when the others did the work for her.

But aside from the potential danger of the books, another matter was brought up. Imsin would stay... She already knew, but hearing it from him had caused her to frown. It was one thing when she could hope he'd join them. But they truly would not be able to rely on any help from him, nor would they be able to talk to him. That's when one of her siblings, Arauru, tried to convince Imsin to leave with them - it wouldn't work, she knew. But he did bring up a good point. Why was he staying...?

Of course, she had a guess as to what the answer was. "...Imsin... The reason you're staying..." She thought back to her theory on the towers, and looked to the thrones that had long since been pulled away from the dinner table. "Is it to watch over the last remnants of our parents, aside from ourselves? I assume the moment you left, this place would go rather fast..." She notes. "...You intend to keep this place together as long as you can, don't you? Even if it means you'll disappear with it... Is that really right, though? Everything you know that you haven't taught us would go with you. Surely there's a better way..." Without realizing, as she spoke, she clutched her book tighter and tighter, her voice quavering. She knew it would probably be to no avail... But she, too, wanted to at least try to change his mind.

[zabbarot]

Ilaesh had strode in characteristically late and beaming a wide smile. Hugs and gifts from Uncle Imsin were uncommon, so Ilaesh reciprocated the hug and thanked him for the book. He watched the others voice complaints and questions, and his smile slowly faded until just a smirk remained.

"Speak for yourself, Zersetzen. We can be both if we are willing to try." He smiled as he chided his brother in an almost joking tone, but Ilaesh was clearly serious. "When someone makes you a gift you say thank you. Even if you don't want it. Even if you don't need it. Do what you will in private, but show some gratitude for the effort that went in to it at least. There's no need to be rude."

"They are beautiful gifts, Imsin. Nobody meant any disrespect."

[TechnOkami]

Sulh & The Feast

So much happened so quickly, Sulh didn't know what to do. He did what he could to quell Ulven from his bout, and was only given an unfiltered, primal gaze in return for it. Sulh shook and quaked deeply, almost to the point that he completely balked, but all action was brought to a sudden standstill as the Elder God Imsin unveiled enough pressure and weight of power to quell the children to quiet. It shocked Sulh, that such power which could render them all helpless in awe for several moments was to Imsin a simple flexing of muscles, a cracking of fingers.

Sulh hardly noticed as Ulven removed his hand from his shoulder, too taken back by Imsin's display to do much else. After a moment Sulh recognized he was simply standing there and awkwardly walked back beside Onori, seating himself upon the bench once more. He hand nothing more to say or ask, since what he wished to know was already petitioned to his surrogate father. His ebony, light-drinking clad sister mentioned something though, something Sulh did not fully comprehend. He turned his head towards Onori.

"I do not understand your words sister. How will one's thoughts mar your judgement? Wouldn't it help you come to the best outcome rather than hinder it?"

[mystic1110]

Onori looked at Sulh by her side, her grey ice eyes seemingly chilling the room.

Indeed, Cousin.

Onori's eyes then sweep the room looking at her family in turn.

Whom among you would be willing to hand me your books when you demand judgement or judgement is called against you? And if you do not, how could I not hold the withholding of absolute truth against you in the court to come?

She looked back at Sulh

The terrible choice then is that on one hand my family gives me the keys to their own minds and on the other is that my family dulls my judgments. Both require trust. The first requires the trust that my own will keeps me from becoming a tyrant. The second requires trust that my judgments would be just as correct as if I held your tomes in my hands.

And both require my own unyielding trust in myself, and despite my strength, I know not how the Old World will test us. Test me.

This was not doubt. Onori did not doubt. She just understood the risks of the Old World - the dangers of the Serpent. After all, Ismin himself - who had proven himself as strong as he was - was driven out. Who knew what measures they would have to take. Onori was preparing for the worst. This was War after all.

[Nefarion Xid]

Seated quietly at the far end of the table from Imsin, Calenthiel poured himself a second beer. Before putting the silver cup to his lips, he blithely whispers a toast, "To family and dinner. May the two never meet.".

[AlexanderML]

Nothing his caretaker said changed Lorci's feelings. Lorci just continued to wallow amidst all the talk.

While many (if not all) of the others have the spark of authority of a adult, Lorci lacked such a thing. Lorci was but that small little child that would do what it's told, eat it's greens, and head off to bed when told to. The tone that the others have shocks Lorci, making him feel alone in a sense, for everyone seemed to have that something he lacked (and to a large degree to be speaking to a god that way).

Lorci also was sad at the serious talk, Lorci felt like it was suffocating from the talk in the room, and his caretaker silencing the room did not help the mood. Though things are calming down a bit, it's a little late to bring Lorci into any sort of happy mood.

[Jade_Tarem]

Koriah

"I... I'm sorry, were we supposed to have speeches prepared?" The goddess gazed around the room, trying to catch everyone's eyes, though not always succeeding. "These books are incredible - indeed, I apologize for my remarks before, but I just had to know how such a thing was powered and woven, at least in the general sense." With that, Koriah recovered some of her usual verve, hopping over the bench and finally taking a seat. She was not quite able to make out Calenthiel's remark and was either blissfully unaware of the Twins' encore of the inking prank or ignoring it. Either way, she started loading up her plate. "I don't know what paladins or saints are, but I bet they had to eat. Come on, we're going to another world tomorrow! Thank Imsin for the lovely gifts and party tonight!"

[hi-mi-tsu]

As the children of the gods went about their last few hours before the beginning of their grand adventure, the light suffusing the Farthest Shore waxed, and then waned. It was never truly night in that land beyond time, nor truly day, but as the silver faded into grey twilight a bell was heard across the isle. It was not a loud sound, but it was pure, and somehow sad. But perhaps that was simply the tug of old memories. For all who dwelt on the Farthest Shore knew the sound of that bell, Imsin's bell, that called the children of the gods from adventures and discoveries uncounted to gather for their evening meal. It seemed Imsin had finished whatever great labor had consumed his attention those past few days, and now wished to see the children he had raised.

The dining room was much as the children remembered it, the long ebon table that bore the scars of years of rough use by divine infants turned divine youths turned divines in truth. The thrones of the Old Gods remained, Imsin's standing alongside those of his kin in characteristic humility, the throne of Shan-Herai remaining at the head of the table in deference to the lord of the Old Gods. But on the walls above the thrones now hung no fewer than twenty-three brilliant tapestries depicting the faces of the the children of the gods, and on the long benches on either side of the table sat twenty-three books bound in silver leather that bore their names in the divine script. Imsin stood before his low chair at the foot of the table awaiting the coming gods, putting the last touches on the burning candles that stood amidst plates of potatoes baked and mashed, carrots braised with celery and onions, and whole chickens roasted in coriander garlic, and ginger. On other platters sat thinly sliced loins of beef grilled over an open flame, fried peppers with onion and hot sausage, and long strips of asparagus baked beneath a blanket of soft cheese. These were accompanied by baskets of steaming fresh bread with terrines of butter, platters of fresh tomatoes, pears, and oranges, wheels of hard cheeses alongside bowls of leafy greens, and frosted pewter pitchers holding lemonade, water, buttermilk, and beer. But most impressive was the centerpiece, a dish that seemed conjured from one of Imsin's stories, a whole boar holding an apple in its tusked mouth, roasted flesh glistening beneath a savory glaze. Clearly, Imsin intended this last night of theirs to be a special one.

As each of the children entered, they were met with a characteristic smile and an uncharacteristic embrace from their guardian. For all it was clear that Imsin loved them, expressions of affection were hard for the Old God of Tales. In another life, he had been given to recounting love rather than feeling it, but now he held his children in his arms in silent proof of his feeling. Finally, the last child arrived, and he bid them take up the books awaiting them.

"Go on, feel free to look inside. I can see Rize and Ruyn will explode if they don't satisfy their curiosity."

He smiled warmly at the twins' apparent impatience. He would miss them terribly, it seemed.



Laelia

She'd come immediately when the dinner bell rang, of course, though she'd stopped briefly to tuck the spyglasses into her bag. Memories...memories of everything, of this home, of her siblings. In case she needed them. In hopes they'd inspire her to create something grand in this Old World.

She'd been startled when Imsin had embraced her, and had let the hug linger as long as he was willing. It was rare, almost unheard-of, for such overt displays of affection to occur, and she'd take them where she could. The table display was fit for royalty, and startlingly beautiful books were placed at each spot. Settling in her seat next to Ihrmiel, the artist reached for the book with reverence. It was stunning...and upon opening it, and hearing what it was for, Laelia felt her own tears begin to form.

Such a truly genuine gesture of caring. Wanting to check in, to make sure they were all right...Imsin truly did love them, for all he was setting them off alone.

Which was why her siblings' reactions startled her so. Ulven's anger, Zersetzen and Onori's disbelief...Laelia's head shot up at their outbursts. How could they be so disrespectful?

At least Ihrmiel's question was useful, and not dismissive of such a great gift.

When Imsin calmed everyone down, Laelia sighed, and carefully slipped her book into her pack. Delicately selecting some asparagus and boar, she turned to her sibling and murmured "Well. That was quite a show, wasn't it? If that's how they're acting now, what do you think's going to happen when we all get on the boat together?"

[Othniel]

"The chronicles write of their own accord - should you wish to make notes of your own, they shall find themselves in a new appendix or as notes in the margins. For the pages of the tomes are limitless - they can well endure your thoughts added to their history."

Ihrmiel

"Oh, how marvelously useful!" Ihrmiel declared. "I can write notes about my experiences, or reference subjects, people, animals and other such things in an appendix. This is very useful indeed!"

Ihrmiel turned from dishing up her own plate to see Laelia take a seat next to her and smiled. "Greetings to you, Laelia. What have you been up to this fine day?"

[Mary_Sue]

Dinner

Aria's journey back to reality was incremental. Small sounds pierced through the shield of her inner refuge, dim at first. The soft clink of silverware on plates, then the murmur of voices rising to a crescendo as she snapped back to the present. She blinked and looked around, disoriented, she could not recall how she came to be sitting on this hard bench in the dining hall in front of a plate filled with food she had left untouched. She looked down in surprise as she realized she was holding a book, how had it come into her possession? She looked around the table at her siblings for clues, noticing they all had similar books and guessed they were gifts from Imsin. Her brow furrowed in confusion, as she listened to the others pleading with Imsin not to stay behind. She cleared her throat and took a big, calming breath as she prepared herself to address the room,
"Pardon me, but are we to go on a journey?" Her soft voice carried through the room as if on a breeze and she blushed as eyes fell on her. Her own eyes fell to Lusia who sat at her feet, meowing for a bite of the delicious smelling food Aria hadn't touched. She offered the grateful cat a bite of the roast pork as she waited to hear about their apparently imminent departure and shifted self-consciously in her seat.

[Draken]

Ilaesh had strode in characteristically late and beaming a wide smile. Hugs and gifts from Uncle Imsin were uncommon, so Ilaesh reciprocated the hug and thanked him for the book. He watched the others voice complaints and questions, and his smile slowly faded until just a smirk remained.

"Speak for yourself, Zersetzen. We can be both if we are willing to try." He smiled as he chided his brother in an almost joking tone, but Ilaesh was clearly serious. "When someone makes you a gift you say thank you. Even if you don't want it. Even if you don't need it. Do what you will in private, but show some gratitude for the effort that went in to it at least. There's no need to be rude."

"They are beautiful gifts, Imsin. Nobody meant any disrespect."

Zersetzen took a glass of beer for himself.

"My good cousin, you really shouldn't aspire to be the best a mortal can be, it is beneath you."

"But I will concede the point that I should have opened my tirades by saying I am thankful for the gift, because I am. So thanks, Imsin, I will try to carry it on me at all times."

And he raised his glass for Calenthiel's toast.

"Cheers to that."

[Snowfire]

"Us?"

"Raid the Kitchen?"

"Never!"

"Imsin would have Laelia tan our hides."

"And she'd use paint."

"That we couldn't wash off."

"But your offer of a meal?"

"We didn't take any eggs." Ruyn grinned. The implied, unsaid words, were this time. "Isn't it getting a bit late for breakfast, however? And wasn't Imsin planning a feast later tonight?"

"True. We'd better not. Though we'll give you space to make your own meal, if you want."

"We wish to stay hungry."

"So Kyra," Rize began, with a smile on his lips, "What are your thoughts on leaving our home for the Old World?"

Ruyn gave his brother a questioning glare. Was Rize really not done with this topic?

The Kitchen

I can understand the feeling, but I haven't eaten since last night. Kyra laughed, wondering silently where all the time since watching the dawn with her sister had gone. She hadn't done that much, had she? "So I'm rather hungry, and I don't think I can wait for dinner."

Kyra hesitated when Rize asked his question, then shook her head as if chastising herself for some unknown slight. "I feel bright, Rize. Clear and light like the days that Ismin taught us were like spring." She entered the pantry, collecting the eggs she needed before returning and starting to slice an onion. "I'm sorry, it's hard to explain." The only person she ever fully explained herself to had been her sister. Not even Ismin had been granted a full explanation, though she wondered if he'd known anyway. It was always possible.

"I lost a great deal of my self after our parents left. Too much, I thought. Now I know better, but only because we are leaving." She wiped away a tear from the onion, pushed the diced vegetable to one side and started on the peppers. "So I welcome it." She looked up, seeing the expressions on her cousin's faces, and frowned. "This seems to be something between the two of you. Could I help?"

Banquet

Kyra returned the embrace from Ismin in full, with a gentle word in his ear before she let go.

"You were right." She told him quietly, referring to what he'd said to her many times about her not truly being lost. And the smile she'd given him was the brightest she'd been able to muster for many years. She took the gift with quiet happiness, and made no move to argue or correct her siblings, for she was still husbanding the precious fire that she'd only very recently found was still inside her. She took little food, carefully chosen, but all of it was rich; better to remember her last night here in the place that she'd loved and yet found herself stifled by.

The book was beautiful, a work of art and weaving unlike anything she'd seen. And she hoped that Ismin would have his wish, and that he would be able to see the children he had raised return to the Old World and renew it, even if the devastation that surely awaited them might threaten to break his heart. For the renewal, it would be worth the pain. So she hoped.

[5ColouredWalker]

Dinner
Memoria smiles at Aria, finishing a bite of carrot.
"Yes, we're returning to the old world soon, to take up the mantles out parent's left us. Remember the boat of silver? I think you said it looked like a cloud on the water."
Memoria's tone is like that of a long suffering child reminding an ageing grandparent what was happening. But, as a being of memories, who'd be better for it.

She does remember the horrified faces of the offer to 'fix' Aria's 'memory problem'...
"I dare say that Ismin's gift is a 'godsend' to Aria. She can just read back to figure out what she was supposed to be doing." Though Memoria's words are mocking, their tone however is full of sisterly love.

[TheDarkDM]

Imsin smiled sadly at Arauru and Stygen. Indeed, it must have heartened him to see two children of such disparate temperament united in their concern. Yet the surety behind his eyes did not waver.

"My dear ones, it would bring me great joy to accompany you. To see what remains of the Old World, and how you renew it. Perhaps even to see my...your parents again."

He paused. Though he controlled it well, there was a yearning behind that last sentiment so strong it seeped through even Imsin's iron control.

"But I was given a duty when your forebears departed to reclaim the Old World, a charge by Shan-Herai to whom I had sworn obedience. It is given to me to safeguard this refuge should it ever be needed again. And I cannot betray that trust."

He raised a hand against further protestation.

"But you need not worry for my safety. Though this island has proven a welcome home to us, it was never meant to endure so many wild and blossoming Wills. Once it no longer strains to accommodate a score of godlings, the Farthest Shore will stabilize. Perhaps I might even be able to will its further growth."

Then Rize asked his question, and Imsin spent a long moment searching his eyes.

"Rize, I will not force any of you to go. That decision is given to each of you. But you would wither here, my fiery boy. Deprived of your siblings, your cousins, what joy could you draw from a life spent here alone with me?"

He smiled to blunt the cold truth of his words.

"You all have brought warmth to my life, Rize, but mine is a cold soul. I am accustomed to solitude, to the quiet eternity of quill and ink and page. Guardianship of the Farthest Shore was given me for a reason. My growth, my divine ascension, was completed long ago - yours is just begun, and it requires more fertile soil than this conjured stone."

[TechnOkami]

Sulh

Waves of relief poured through Sulh, those wise words unraveling every single knot and point of stress he held within his body and mind. Sulh closed his eyes, and a breath of relief escaped his lips. Opening again, dark and woody eyes looked upon their banquet, the final feast they would all have together before they set off to the Old World, the ancient land of their celestial Mothers and Fathers. A slight smile crept upon his face once more; Sulh raised his glass.

"My family, direct or otherwise, I must admit a few things. For all of today and ever since our Honored Uncle crafted that silver ship for us, I have been thinking about our trip to the Old World, considering what would happen to us all and trying to bring myself to a state of calm before our voyage. I must confess, I have not found much peace to bring with myself until today. No matter what happens, I will take solace in the fact that we are going on this trip together, as a family. And even if we are separated in ways we cannot overcome, this gift we have been given by Imsin is wonderful, and though he cannot interact with us he will always be there, watching us grow and develop. So please, let us make the most of these final moments of our youthful respite and enjoy what we have in this very moment."

Sulh took a sip of his glass, then placed it back down.

"I, for one, would like to claim a leg of this suckling pig, if someone would be so kind as to sever a piece for me."

[AlexanderML]

Sulh

Waves of relief poured through Sulh, those wise words unraveling every single knot and point of stress he held within his body and mind. Sulh closed his eyes, and a breath of relief escaped his lips. Opening again, dark and woody eyes looked upon their banquet, the final feast they would all have together before they set off to the Old World, the ancient land of their celestial Mothers and Fathers. A slight smile crept upon his face once more; Sulh raised his glass.

"My family, direct or otherwise, I must admit a few things. For all of today and ever since our Honored Uncle crafted that silver ship for us, I have been thinking about our trip to the Old World, considering what would happen to us all and trying to bring myself to a state of calm before our voyage. I must confess, I have not found much peace to bring with myself until today. No matter what happens, I will take solace in the fact that we are going on this trip together, as a family. And even if we are separated in ways we cannot overcome, this gift we have been given by Imsin is wonderful, and though he cannot interact with us he will always be there, watching us grow and develop. So please, let us make the most of these final moments of our youthful respite and enjoy what we have in this very moment."

Sulh took a sip of his glass, then placed it back down.

"I, for one, would like to claim a leg of this suckling pig, if someone would be so kind as to sever a piece for me."
Lorci has had few comforting words told to it through dinner, and has since retreated into it's mind to hide from the world. Barely giving a glimpse out to see what was going on. The whole situation was something that Lorci despised, for while it might be giving it something new that is potentially good, Lorci is losing what it knows already to be good. Lorci was scared, alone, and felt hatred directed at nothing.

Lorci though heard Sulh's words, and took it as a genuinely kind hearted request. Lorci always was in the mood to help people with those.

Lorci with the emotionless look on it's face grabbed for the piece that Sulh indicated without saying a word, and handed it to Sulh in a little bit slower than comfortable speed. With the only sign of emotion from Lorci being a small smile as it leaned back down to eat.

[daelrog]

At the Pier


The comment woke Arauru from a light doze (she'd been lying on the deck to get accustomed to the way it rode at anchor, not that there was much of a swell here). Gronz, least complicated of all her kin. Sometimes that made him terribly dull; sometimes it was refreshing. Right now it was probably a little of both. She didn't fault him for that. There wasn't anything happening yet, they were all a little dull. The calm before the storm.

"It is," she agreed. "But I'll still be glad when we see the back of it. I want new places."

Gronz nodded in agreement. "Change is good. The same thing over and over again is not living. It is only being." That was a bit more profound than she was used to hearing from him, though not exactly the most complicated of conclusions either. He looked pointedly to her. "You are independent. Gronz would not mind the same for Gronz."

Dinner

"You are not a stone. You have not spent these years teaching Gronz and others out of coldness." Gronz gestured to the table. "Gronz will take the wine now. Then tomorrow you can all retell the night for Gronz so Gronz can live it all over a second time."

[Gengy]

Earlier...

The Kitchen

I can understand the feeling, but I haven't eaten since last night. Kyra laughed, wondering silently where all the time since watching the dawn with her sister had gone. She hadn't done that much, had she? "So I'm rather hungry, and I don't think I can wait for dinner."

Kyra hesitated when Rize asked his question, then shook her head as if chastising herself for some unknown slight. "I feel bright, Rize. Clear and light like the days that Ismin taught us were like spring." She entered the pantry, collecting the eggs she needed before returning and starting to slice an onion. "I'm sorry, it's hard to explain." The only person she ever fully explained herself to had been her sister. Not even Ismin had been granted a full explanation, though she wondered if he'd known anyway. It was always possible.

"I lost a great deal of my self after our parents left. Too much, I thought. Now I know better, but only because we are leaving." She wiped away a tear from the onion, pushed the diced vegetable to one side and started on the peppers. "So I welcome it." She looked up, seeing the expressions on her cousin's faces, and frowned. "This seems to be something between the two of you. Could I help?"

"Your offer is appreciated, Kyra," Ruyn began, looking at his twin. "And you are correct. There is something between us. I have been lamenting to my older, less intelligent brother, the poor conditions that we're going to suffer aboard the ship."

"Oh, yes. That. Thanks. I wouldn't have figured that out on my own," Rize rolled his eyes.

"I know."

"You're just worried that the ship will be so small, we won't have enough space to hide if you go too far."

"Me? No. We'll be surrounded by water. I like water. You're the one who has trouble swimming after the first ten minutes."

"As if I will be the one who's going to be tossed overboard." Rize laughed, as he tied up his shoulder sack. Ruyn could see that Rize wanted to ask Kyra about staying on the island, but... now wasn't the time.

Tying his pack once more as well, Ruyn smirked too, "Cousin, we'll leave you to your late breakfast. Don't eat too much. We aren't the only ones that Imsin likes to scold."


Now...

Imsin smiled sadly at Arauru and Stygen. Indeed, it must have heartened him to see two children of such disparate temperament united in their concern. Yet the surety behind his eyes did not waver.

"My dear ones, it would bring me great joy to accompany you. To see what remains of the Old World, and how you renew it. Perhaps even to see my...your parents again."

He paused. Though he controlled it well, there was a yearning behind that last sentiment so strong it seeped through even Imsin's iron control.

"But I was given a duty when your forebears departed to reclaim the Old World, a charge by Shan-Herai to whom I had sworn obedience. It is given to me to safeguard this refuge should it ever be needed again. And I cannot betray that trust."

He raised a hand against further protestation.

"But you need not worry for my safety. Though this island has proven a welcome home to us, it was never meant to endure so many wild and blossoming Wills. Once it no longer strains to accommodate a score of godlings, the Farthest Shore will stabilize. Perhaps I might even be able to will its further growth."

Then Rize asked his question, and Imsin spent a long moment searching his eyes.

"Rize, I will not force any of you to go. That decision is given to each of you. But you would wither here, my fiery boy. Deprived of your siblings, your cousins, what joy could you draw from a life spent here alone with me?"

He smiled to blunt the cold truth of his words.

"You all have brought warmth to my life, Rize, but mine is a cold soul. I am accustomed to solitude, to the quiet eternity of quill and ink and page. Guardianship of the Farthest Shore was given me for a reason. My growth, my divine ascension, was completed long ago - yours is just begun, and it requires more fertile soil than this conjured stone."

Ruyn stared at his twin, and begged him mentally to accept Imsin's words. Yes, the Farthest Shore was their home, but they had outgrown it. They needed to move on. Why didn't Rize see that?

For his part, Rize, just looked upon Imsin, a frown on the older twin's face. He sat back down, a nod the only acknowledgement that he'd heard the elder god.

The twins remained oddly silent for the rest of the meal, though they ate their fair share.

[Mary_Sue]

Dinner
Memoria smiles at Aria, finishing a bite of carrot.
"Yes, we're returning to the old world soon, to take up the mantles out parent's left us. Remember the boat of silver? I think you said it looked like a cloud on the water."
Memoria's tone is like that of a long suffering child reminding an ageing grandparent what was happening. But, as a being of memories, who'd be better for it.

She does remember the horrified faces of the offer to 'fix' Aria's 'memory problem'...
"I dare say that Ismin's gift is a 'godsend' to Aria. She can just read back to figure out what she was supposed to be doing." Though Memoria's words are mocking, their tone however is full of sisterly love.


Imsin smiled sadly at Arauru and Stygen. Indeed, it must have heartened him to see two children of such disparate temperament united in their concern. Yet the surety behind his eyes did not waver.

"My dear ones, it would bring me great joy to accompany you. To see what remains of the Old World, and how you renew it. Perhaps even to see my...your parents again."

He paused. Though he controlled it well, there was a yearning behind that last sentiment so strong it seeped through even Imsin's iron control.

"But I was given a duty when your forebears departed to reclaim the Old World, a charge by Shan-Herai to whom I had sworn obedience. It is given to me to safeguard this refuge should it ever be needed again. And I cannot betray that trust."

He raised a hand against further protestation.

"But you need not worry for my safety. Though this island has proven a welcome home to us, it was never meant to endure so many wild and blossoming Wills. Once it no longer strains to accommodate a score of godlings, the Farthest Shore will stabilize. Perhaps I might even be able to will its further growth."

Then Rize asked his question, and Imsin spent a long moment searching his eyes.

"Rize, I will not force any of you to go. That decision is given to each of you. But you would wither here, my fiery boy. Deprived of your siblings, your cousins, what joy could you draw from a life spent here alone with me?"

He smiled to blunt the cold truth of his words.

"You all have brought warmth to my life, Rize, but mine is a cold soul. I am accustomed to solitude, to the quiet eternity of quill and ink and page. Guardianship of the Farthest Shore was given me for a reason. My growth, my divine ascension, was completed long ago - yours is just begun, and it requires more fertile soil than this conjured stone."

The words of the others confused Aria. How could she return to a place she'd never been? A world that existed to her only in the fairy tales and bedtime stories of her daydreams. Her brow furrowed as she looked down at her book. She sank down on the bench and slowly opened the book that Imsin had gifted her, wondering what she would find. To her astonishment, written out on the right page of the book was a detailed depiction of her most recent daydream, the one that she had been lost in when she had come to and found herself among her siblings at the dinner table. On the left hand side of the book was an account of her dreaming for hours, until she was called and helped into dinner. And how she was reading her book now. She looked from side to side, not understanding the meaning or purpose of the book or the journey. She snapped the book closed, she could feel her mind wanting to escape from this bewildering reality and struggled against the fog for once.
"Must we all go?" She did not specify to whom the question was directed, but her words were carried on a breeze to Imsin's ears.

[The_Snark]

At the Pier


Gronz nodded in agreement. "Change is good. The same thing over and over again is not living. It is only being." That was a bit more profound than she was used to hearing from him, though not exactly the most complicated of conclusions either. He looked pointedly to her. "You are independent. Gronz would not mind the same for Gronz."

Arauru raised a quizzical eyebrow at that. "Are you saying you aren't? You've always seemed pretty self-reliant. I suppose I wouldn't know if you get terribly lonely without anyone else around, since obviously I'm never there to see it. But it'd surprise me."

She rose from the deck, brushing her hands and moving to the stern. "Want me to show you how the tiller works? You won't learn much while we're tied up at the dock, but you can feel how she shifts in the water at least."

At Dinner

A fine king he must be, to charge you with guarding a desolate island from nothing in particular, while he returns to the world to rule and rebuild.

But Arauru held her tongue, for once. She didn't think anyone would convince Imsin to leave if he thought it was his duty, and he certainly wouldn't like it if she started sniping at Shan-Herai. That would only start a fight (if not with Imsin, then some of her cousins). Still, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of resentment towards the prince of the Old Gods. Imsin deserved more than loneliness and the cold satisfaction of knowing he'd done his duty; perhaps he was made for solitude, but it didn't make him happy. Someday, if all went well in the New World, she'd do something about that.

She put that aside, and turned her attention to the feast.

[mystic1110]

Onori didn't eat, but continued ruminating on Ismin's books. That her future judgement would need to consider their absences and presences, their accuracy and their clever falsehoods . . . grated her. It was like studying for one test and then having a new one handed to you on the last day of class.

Moreover, she was angry. No one would be able to tell. She never smiled anyway, and wore a perpetual expression of stone on her face. Her eyes were as cold as ever. Yet looking around at her siblings who either dismissed her words or took them as a mere outburst she could see that they did not respect her. Or at least respect her enough to let her pass judgment over them. Or that not enough of them did - what did it matter if a handful would submit to her hard earned knowledge. All that would accomplish would be to split the family into those that follow the law and those that would throw it away. And they were all meant to bring law back to the old world.

And if she did not pass judgement on them, why did she forge all those seventy seven times seventy seven laws into her sword? Why did she spend every day memorizing the contours of precedence? Why did she allow herself to be consumed by her duty if she was to end up a judge without a court?

She didn't say a word.

[hi-mi-tsu]

Ihrmiel

"Oh, how marvelously useful!" Ihrmiel declared. "I can write notes about my experiences, or reference subjects, people, animals and other such things in an appendix. This is very useful indeed!"

Ihrmiel turned from dishing up her own plate to see Laelia take a seat next to her and smiled. "Greetings to you, Laelia. What have you been up to this fine day?"



Laelia

"I've been gathering memories...walking about the island, you know. Reminding myself of what it was once, and what it might be in the future. Oh! And Koriah and Calen gave me these marvelous things, that let you see far into the distance. They're astounding!" Laelia rummaged in her bag and pulled one out to display. "It's not as helpful here, of course, because you can't see beyond the mists. But in the Old World...I imagine it will be truly magnificent." She paused, then laughed quietly, tilting her head and observing Ihrmiel's face.

"What about you? What have you done?"

Later...

As Imsin spoke of the island, and of being solitary of heart, her fingers itched. Reaching into her pack again, she pulled out a sheet of parchment and her charcoals, beginning to sketch. If he would not come, she would take him with her...close to her heart, where he belonged. Soft edges and hard planes, a face that reflected worry and isolation, heartache and distance.

"Oh, Imsin." The words were murmured, and Laelia studied their guardian's face. "You are a singular being."

[Othniel]

Ihrmiel

"That does sound marvelous!" Ihrmiel agreed. "I wonder if there is time to make one for me as well. Perhaps not..." She smiled at Laelia's question. "I spent some time with Qure-Inaria before dawn, walking the woods and collecting a few herbs. She was...closer than usual. It was nice. And then...oh, then I sat to watch the dawn - with Kyra! Can you believe it? Kyra joined me." Ihrmiel's voice became more excited at the memory. "I have been able to spend so little time with her of late." The smile faded a bit as Ihrmiel's words changed to recount something else, and she continued to explain her actions leading up to the beginning of the meal. "You should come and visit the animals in my room. I do not think they are ready for release yet, so I will have to ask Imsin to do it once we leave. Or maybe he can keep them around for company when we are gone. I think it's sad that he has to stay here by himself, even if he can read what we do with the books and tapestries."

[TheDarkDM]

Chapter 1

Discord around the table of the old gods was not unknown upon the Farthest Shore. How could it be, after playing host to the fitful childhood of a score of divine scions? But as tempers flared around the table on that last night the tenor seemed different, more foreboding than the squabbles that had plagued the godlings in times past. Yet what could Imsin say? He knew that the journey ahead would test each of his beloved charges in ways they had never imagined, that after the malleable fantasy of the Farthest Shore the solid, unyielding shores of Creation would be more nightmare than dream. Still, it could not be helped. If the children of the gods remained, the Farthest Shore would die. This was a certainty, and with it would go any hope of reclaiming the old world from the festering chaos Imsin feared had infested it.

The dinner passed beneath a pall of silent frustrations and misgivings, broken only occasionally by the voiced excitement or hope of the less doubtful godlings. When all was finished, the dishes and vessels were cleared by a wave of Imsin's hand, as they always had been. In times past, this was the signal to depart to bed or to nighttime ventures, but now Imsin's raised hand bid the children to remain. He looked at each of them in turn, silver eyes peering through their own into the souls beneath, and gestured to the thrones surrounding the room.

"Tomorrow, I send you beyond my reach. It is a day long in the coming, yet one whose arrival I can greet with little celebration. Know, my children, that the necessity of this departure weighs on my heart as sorely as it does on yours. But necessary it is. And I have one last counsel to offer you before your departure."

Imsin took a breath, visibly steeling himself.

"You have heard from mine own lips the tales of the glories of the Old World, when Unir lead the gods, your forefathers, in his grand design. We were not alone in that enterprise, for the Old World was host to spirits and minor gods in the thousands. All with voices that vied for dominance. All with voices that were silenced. Unir's design was beautiful, but it was an unyielding thing. We commanded Creation, for we judged ourselves its Creators, and where it would not oblige is it was forced to obedience. Unir sought to bind Fate itself, so great was his faith in the beauty of his will. This is what gave rise to the Serpent, my children, for it was nothing less than the festering cancer of every failed bid by Creation for its own freedom. It was chaos incarnate, and it laid waste Unir's grand and glorious design. You must not repeat our mistakes, my children. You must not fashion yourselves masters unchallenged. For only in working within the skein of Creation, by subtle action, can you build a New World that will endure. Reserve the fullness of your power, the awesome might of your inheritance and your godhead, for only the most desperate of challenges. This is the last of my wisdom to you. I pray that you heed it."

In the silence that followed, Imsin met the eyes of his children again, only to shrink back into his chair, his face crossed with lines of the most terrible weariness.

"Now, to bed. You have a trying journey before you on the morrow."

The new gods retired, to sleep or perhaps to ruminate on what was to come. And silently, inevitably, the dawn came, the bright glow that suffused the misty borders of the Farthest Shore in a pale facsimile of ancient sunlight. The children of the gods made their way to the ramshackle dock, where nearby a cliff had slipped into the lapping waves overnight. Imsin stood there, at the edge of their home, his grieved face drawn as still and taut as a statue. There were no more words, perhaps he could not manage them, only a last fierce hug for each of them as they made their way to the silver ship Sinderfjal. Waiting for them in the sleek longship were twelve rows of benches, the middle deck piled high with provisions and whatever baggage the new gods had seen fit to pack. Carved into the hull near the tiller was a solitary perch for Arauru, that she might guide the animate sails towards that narrow breach where reality flowed into memory. Those that wished to depart were eventually gathered, and with a raised hand Imsin set Sinderfjal loose from its moorings. Filled with a wind of their own making, the sails billowed outwards, and the children of the gods rushed headlong into the silver mist that had so long been the boundary of their world. And try though they might, Imsin and the Farthest Shore quickly vanished from sight in that silver haze.

The journey was not easy. Sinderfjal was well provisioned and sturdier than any work of mortal craft, and from the tiller Arauru sensed their destination before them, but as the ship sped deeper into the seas of memory they passed beyond the silver glow of faded recollection and into the sharp, dark haze of more recent pain. The thoughts and fears of those still living in the Old World assailed them, vortexes of terror and uncertainty yawning without warning, razored waves of hatred and violence battering at the hull. With every spray of that black sea that fell upon them the children of the gods were assailed by the scattered fragments of hard, brutally short lives, lives endured in darkness, where every day might see death at the hands of an unseen beast or a desperate neighbor. Tossed about in a maelstrom of horrors, the supplies diminished, tempers grew frayed, and it seemed the grand journey would end before it had truly begun. Yet from Sinderfjal radiated an aura of the Farthest Shore, of Imsin, and in that radiance the storm of memory recoiled from every failed attack. In that storm there was no measuring the days, but eventually on the horizon loomed a break in the darkness, a flickering shadow light that seemed almost a trick of the eye. But the children of the gods knew it was not so, for they had heard that fissure described before in far calmer seas. The gateway by which memory flowed into myth. The threshold of Creation. In that sight there was hope, hope that spurred even Sinderfjal on, for the silver ship amazed with a burst of speed that sent them racing towards the gate. The sea around them roared in impotent rage, yet try as it might the black fume could lay not a single tendril on that ship as it met the flickering passage, and was gone.

The change was immediate, so intense it seemed it must be some trick of the angry sea. For where the sea of memory had striven against their passage, beyond they were greeting by placid waters that lapped sluggishly against Sinderfjal's hull. Before them lay a horizon not of silver or of furious black, but of ashy grey. High to the south, barely more than a pinprick, shone a sickly yellow sun, sending a play of lurid shadows over the dead fog. It seemed an ill omen, yet Sinderfjal pressed on. The sun sank on the horizon, and the children of the gods experienced night in truth for the first time, an oppressive, total darkness bereft of moon or stars, striking them blind were it not for the dull gleam that emanated from the ship itself. The heavy, rancid air seemed filled with whispers, whispers of no true tongue that fled if noticed. It was an unexpected arrival, and night turned to day which turned to night again without sight of land. Ten days they endured, provisions dwindling ever more, before the godlings in the foremost benches sighted a dirty shadow on the horizon. Land.

Their arrival was marked by the susurrating parting of oily sand as Sinderfjal carved its way onto a black beach. The sand stretched to either side until it disappeared into the fog, while a hundred paces from the ship's prow the beach disappeared into a forest of black pines so thick that none of the feeble light above could penetrate the gloom. The air was eerily still, and the only sound was the feeble waves that rolled inland. There was a tension all about them, an electric hum, yet several hundred heartbeats passed with no movement in the trees. It was not until the children of the gods disembarked that the tension snapped.

Darhaus was the first to sight it, his cry dragging the eyes of all to the tree line. There, emerging in utter silence, was a towering black wolf. It stood more than thirty feet to the shoulder, it's flaming blue eyes betraying a terrible cunning, and as one the godlings felt its name come to them. Vorikon Oath-Breaker, one of the greatest followers of Darhaus Kinslayer, lord of the Wolves of Betrayal. And at once the stories of their parents' struggles with the master of that pack were all too real. It seemed to sense the sudden surge of fear, and with a feral grin the colossal wolf raised its head in a howl that reduced the bravest of the godlings to paralytic terror. A ragged paw the size of a wagon sank deep into the rotting sand, and with horror the children of the gods watched the beast's muscles tense for a charge that would scatter them, break them, reduce them to naught but prey. But from behind them came an answer to the beast's howl, a clarion tone that shattered the chains of terror that bound them. For behind them, Sinderfjal was singing.

Vorikon hesitated then, and that was all that was needed. The glow suffusing Sinderfjal exploded into terrible, searing light, a beam of divinely invested power that struck the dread wolf in one hateful, burning eye. The howl of pain felled trees in the forest beyond, and was answered by a terribly cry that rose from the fog itself. The great wolf's control broken, the phantoms of the Old World rushed forwards, thirsty for divine blood. Claws of mist and shadow tore at the children of the gods, rebounding against the silvery armor that had encased them. In their minds they felt a last commandment from Sinderfjal, from Imsin.

"Run!"

So total was the command that all thought fled the godlings as they scattered, plunging headlong along the beach, into the forest, into fog that skewed distance as much as sight and sound. Long would it be before all were assembled again, and longer still until the scars of their first landing had fled. For the children of the gods had come to the Old World. And it would leave its mark on all.

[Gengy]

Rize and Ruyn, Part 1: Building the Bonfire
“Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth, or burn down your house, you can never tell.” – Joan Crawford

Ruyn hadn’t had to drag Rize on board the ship. His older twin had been reluctant to leave the island, but had, eventually, stepped on to the boat of his own accord. The journey that they went through while on board was… boring. They had practiced with the books, using them as forms of communication between the two of them, and were getting pretty good with it. It was the one energizing thing in an otherwise tiresome trip.

The two of them went through their personal rations quickly, and raided the larder on board the ship after that when they were hungry; they were careful not to take more than a few days at a time, but in this way, when land was finally sighted, the twins were ready.

Or so they thought. Nothing – not anyone on board, not any of their plans, not even Imsin’s stories – prepared them for the wolf upon the beach.


-------------------------------------
Over a Decade Ago, on the Farthest Shore

Ruyn loved his newfound abilities. He’d been lamenting to everyone who would hear him out that it wasn’t fair that Rize was so good with illusions, and Ruyn had nothing. In Ruyn’s mind, it made them too different. And already, Rize was playing tricks on people. Ruyn couldn’t help, because he just got in the way.

Now, though? Now, he could hear the whisperings of the wind. He could feel the rumblings of the earth. He could see the waves within the waves of the sea. It was marvelous. Once again, Rize and Ruyn were a team. Rize could make people think they were seeing something that wasn’t there, but Ruyn? Ruyn could actually make it there, with just a little push of his will.

They were finding their cousin Ulven to be an easy target. Even just a simple tap on the shoulder, from Ruyn having the stone wall grow a small finger, was enough to send their cousin jumping and the twins laughing. It was all in great fun, of course. Rize and Ruyn had decided, together, they wouldn’t hurt anyone if they could help it.

After all, pranks were things that you could laugh about later; that everyone could laugh about later, even the victim, eventually. When someone was hurt? There was no laughter. It was no longer funny.

Rize and Ruyn knew this all too well.

Rize had been using his illusions too much upon his brother. Ruyn found them amusing, but before his powers had begun to manifest themselves, he was often caught unawares by them. To be fair, even with his newfound abilities, he was still surprised. Like yesterday morning. Ruyn had woken up, and everything had been exceedingly bright. So bright, Ruyn couldn’t see at all. He had had to stumble around the room, trying to find the doorway, and finally, after minutes of trying to make out what was going on, he could blearily make out the door. He knew that if he made it out of the room, things would probably get easier. Rize wasn’t so skilled as to be able to make illusion after illusion wherever Ruyn went.

…his older twin, however, was apparently getting better. Rize was now skilled enough to make an impossibly bright room and a fake doorway. Ruyn walked straight into a wall, just barely bumping his nose against what should have been an empty egress.

Rize had howled in laughter, and let the illusion of brightness disappear. The real doorway was some ten feet away. A simple trick. Ruyn had sighed, but smiled. And began to privately plan his own trick. Rize wasn’t the only one who had been improving.

Ruyn could hear the whispering of the wind. He could feel the rumblings of the earth, see the waves within the waves… and he also could touch fire, and not get burned. But only he knew that.

So later in the day, Ruyn started gathering twigs. And logs. And other burnable things. He went to the beach, and started to build a huge pile for a bonfire. After preparing a few other things, he left it, to seek out his twin.

He found his older twin where he thought Rize would be: looking for a place they could call their secret base. In later years, Rize and Ruyn learned the benefits of subtlety. They knew to hide their intentions, to make it easier to trick their family for fun. Most of the time, it worked. They weren’t known as the twin terrors of the island for nothing. At the moment, however, subtlety was rather lost on Ruyn.

“Zee, come to the beach with me.”

“Why, Wye?”

“I found something neat. Oh, and bring a torch.” Subtle, Ruyn was not. But he knew he needed something to get his brother’s attention. “It’s a cave!”

“A cave. On the beach? You and I have been around and around the beach countless times, and there has never been a cave before.” Rize was clearly suspicious, but he found a torch from on a wall, and together, they pulled it off, still lit.

“You know how the island is.” Ruyn offered by way of explanation. “Always sensing needs, and coming up with a way to fill that need.”

“True; I was just hoping to find our base entrance inside the Manse.”

The two began to walk towards the beach. “Whatever for?”

“Well, if Imsin is looking for us, the less time he has to travel, the better.”

“I thought we agreed that we’d always be in our room if we heard Imsin needed us.”

“Of course, of course. But, see, what if we don’t hear he needs us, and we’re in our base, and he’s gotta come looking for us? That’d be bad, right? Especially if we’re all the way inside of some cave that he barely knows anything about. He doesn’t get angry; I don’t think Imsin has it in him. Not at us, at least. The worst we can ever expect is a scolding and a turn at washing dishes for a week. But if he’s gotta come track us down? The longer it takes, the more time he has to come up with a more creative punishment, see?”

“I get you.” Ruyn scratched his head, sure that his brother would turn back at any moment now. “Does that mean you don’t wanna see the cave?”

“Oh, we’re gonna see this cave. I mean, if the Farthest Shore made a cave, it’s gonna be neat!” Rize grinned, and torch in hand, began to run towards the beach. “Race you!”

“Cheater!” Ruyn followed after, laughing. His brother always started races only after he was running ahead. Of course, Ruyn still won. Rize was the more clever, but Ruyn was the more physically gifted. And this time, at least, Rize was carrying the torch.

Which was, of course, his excuse when, panting, the two arrived on the beach. “I would have won, if you hadn’t told me to carry this torch. I had to make sure it didn’t go out.”

“Sure, Zee. Sure. Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better.” Ruyn grinned. He grabbed the torch. “I’ll carry it from now on then. In case you want to start losing more races without an excuse.”

Releasing it, Rize laughed, “Ha! Not likely. Now, where’s this cave you mentioned?”

“Over this way.” Ruyn led his twin towards what he’d prepared earlier. “I marked it with a stack of sticks.”

They walked in silence for a bit, mostly to regain their breath from their run. After a bit, Rize and Ruyn could see the large pile of twigs and kindling. And they could see the mouth of a cave. It wasn’t a very big opening; just a small crack in the side of a nearby cliff. It very easily could have been missed, if someone wasn’t looking for it.

Rize looked at the pile of sticks first, his eyebrows raised. “A stack of sticks? That’s a pretty big stack.”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to miss it again.”

“Whatever. Let’s see this cave.”

“You check it out. I’m going to get rid of the sticks, so no one else can find this place.” Still holding the torch, Ruyn walked towards the pile of kindling he’d prepared. Rize watched him start to remove sticks for a bit, but turned to look into the cave mouth.

In truth, Ruyn had made the cave. It wasn’t very large. Enough walking space into the cliff so as to be interesting, but not big enough for a secret base. And knowing the Farthest Shore, it would probably be gone tomorrow if Ruyn didn’t continue to remind the cliff that he wanted the cave there.

Still, it was deep enough that Rize could duck in, and see the need for the torch. The place was positively dark after the first few steps, and it bent to the right, away from the ocean, more up into the cliff itself and away from the light.

“Wye, pass me the torch.” Rize called back. When he didn’t get a response, he started to back out of the cave. That’s when he saw it.

Just as Ruyn planned, he tripped, and landed on the stack of sticks. Along with the torch. Which, with a little nudge from Ruyn, set the whole pile ablaze. He didn’t feel a thing. He’d been practicing, privately, and while he could feel the heat from the stove and knew better than to stick his hands into the fireplace, a small candle didn’t bother him… nor did any large blaze that he’d made himself. It was rather like crawling into a bed that you had made yourself, compared to someone else’s bed. You could sleep in either, but there were grooves and indentations that you were familiar with in your own bed, cradling you softly. In a different bed? Well, Ruyn got very uncomfortable with an unfamiliar flame, but could get over it eventually, if it was small enough.

This bonfire, though, was of his own creation. He’d handled the kindling himself. He’d coerced the torch into setting everything afire. For him, it was as relaxing as crawling into one's own bed, after a long, long day.

Rize, however, completely panicked. “WYEEEE!”

His brother ran straight towards the inferno, completely unaware that the conflagration was counterfeit. Ruyn couldn’t help it, he started to laugh a great belly laugh. Which, to Rize, sounded like some great “HAAAAAAA” of pain.

Ignoring everything else, ignoring everything his body told him about the heat, about the pain, about anything, Rize stuck both arms straight into the blaze itself, grasping on to his twin’s legs, and pulling. He yanked both himself and Ruyn towards the water of the ocean, not even bothering to look back to see that only his own clothing was burning.

Ruyn was too busy laughing to notice that his brother was on fire. He felt the tug on his legs, though, and when he finally looked up, it was just in time to see himself hurled bodily into the sea. Where his brother found the strength to do this, he didn’t know, but he came up from the waves, sputtering, and still smiling – laughing – at his greatest prank yet. He heard another splash, and Rize was beside him, wide-eyed and full of fearful energy. Ruyn smiled even more.

…until he saw the burned and tattered clothing along Rize’s arms, the red and hot skin, already swelling and blistering from being submerged in the sea. The smile went away. There was no laughter. It was no longer funny.

Rize, seeing his brother was just fine, promptly punched his twin in the nose, causing them both considerable pain. Ruyn, from being socked in the snout, and Rize, because his fist was a red mess of pain already. Rize proceeded to rant and rave, his tears a mix of joy at knowing his brother was fine, and anger at the suffering he was going through. Ruyn felt himself get kicked in the shins, his older twin barely moving his arms anymore. Ruyn did not fight back. The small amount of hurt from being kicked was nothing compared to what Rize himself was going through.

The two of them were young. It would take some time – and some clever illusions to conceal what had happened – but Rize healed. They were children of the Prince of the Gods and the Maiden of the Storms. They were resistant to things, but not – in Rize’s case – immune to fire. Ruyn still didn’t know the limits of his own ability with his immunity to flame, but there on the beach, looking upon his brother’s burns, resolved to himself that he wouldn’t test the matter further. He was afraid of what would happen.

That fear developed into something immense. Neither Rize nor Ruyn spoke of that day again. They had been lucky the burns had not been more severe. It took months – months – of near constant work by Rize to hide his blistering red skin as it healed, and to this day, neither of the twins was certain that Imsin didn’t know anyways. They had behaved themselves for weeks after the incident, putting on brave and comical faces in front of their siblings and cousins, which they soon found made the family even more worried. They planned and pulled off a great big prank in the Kitchen to make up for the time lost, and everyone – after their taste buds recovered – finally felt they were back to normal.

As an added bonus, they were never assigned cooking duties ever again. Though the times they washed dishes became more frequent.

Still, they were careful with fire. Ruyn avoided the crackling noises he heard from the flames of the hearth, and threw himself into practicing with the air, ground, and water. The twins found their secret base, and proceeded to start living there more often than not. The tiny flame in the room – their one source of light – was caged and interacted with as little as possible, and then, only by Rize.

Ruyn never found the courage to even mumble an apology. He just looked upon his twin’s arms, and felt the guilt well up within his chest. He learned everything he could about the Serpent of Flame, sure that he was now that Fire itself was the root of the chaos. Each time he looked upon Rize’s now healed arms, the guilt and the fear combined into resolve, as he vowed to himself that Rize would not suffer like that anymore. That Ruyn would not touch fire in the way that he interacted with the other elements.

Never again. Never. Again.


-------------------------------------
Now, On the Beach of the Old World

As strong as that fear was, as strong as Ruyn’s resolve was, it was next to nothing in the face the wolf. Vorikon Oath-Breaker. Eyes of flickering flame. Teeth and snarl speaking of the unspeakable.

Shifting his sack upon his shoulder, it was not to his short swords that Ruyn went, but to Rize. The twins stood together, so when the ship itself began to sing, and when Imsin’s voice – clearly Imsin – yelled for them all to run, the twins were shoulder to shoulder as they ran. Rize and Ruyn last saw their family left upon the beach, before the fog settled around them, and the light dimmed. Ruyn stayed in pace with Rize, making sure that they were always touching, always close.

When it became nearly as dark as night itself, only the sure touch of his brother’s hand as they clasped and locked together calmed Ruyn. He heard only the steady sound of his brother’s breath as they ran, the fog deadening all other audio.

This was no race to the beach. This was a race for their lives.

And Ruyn would make sure they won. Both of them.

[TechnOkami]

Sulh

Running. It was all he knew. Spectral figures thoroughly mixed within the mists clawed and howled behind him, an ever thickening chorus of wounds and scars. And behind that, the heavy thud of padded feet, stalking. There was no stray thought, no worry to give into as his lithe legs carried him forward to destinations unknown; jaws at your heels will produce such a reaction. Yet Sulh was neither athlete nor warrior, though unused instincts of survival now drove him deeper into the woods. All his time on that silver isle was spent in reflection, eyes drinking in the wisdom set down in Imsin's innumerable tomes. He was a scholar and a cleric for all of his existence thus far. So it comes to no surprise that Sulh fell many times. To his credit though, he arose as many times as he fell, pushing forward through the dismal grey brush beneath countless pillars of trees of the same ashen color as before. But that wailing did not lessen, and the footfalls did not relent.

A point was reached for the first time; Sulh wanted ever so desperately to stop. Strained instinct could only carry him so far. He stopped where he stood, legs buckling under the strain as his knees slammed into the ash beneath him. Nausea churned in his stomach, gorge and bile arising at the back of his throat. Eyes were bleary and wet with exhaustion and tears. He just wanted to rest, to sleep. He so desperately wanted to- pain tore through his back, long and spectral knife-like claws painting his white toga red. Sulh screamed in pain and terror, weariness snapping back to remind him he was still being hunted. He struggled to get back up, but more claws tore at his divine flesh. Wailing again, he bolted from his position and proceeded to be prey to his hunters. His back burned from the specters' wounds, adrenaline pumping through his veins, urging him to survive. He was so tired, but he couldn't stop. If he did he would die. So he ran, harder than he ever had in his life.

Day gave way to dusk, and dusk to the endless black of night. But it was not wholly sightless. The mist gave off an eerie white glow whence it banked, writhing shapes of people long since dead within. It was enough for Sulh to see before him; the ghosts of the fog didn't use the same vision Sulh did, so to those wraiths it mattered not the quality of light. Sulh though... he shown brighter than a forest set ablaze from lightning, and they chased him as hard as he ran. He was so tired, but he couldn't stop running. He didn't stop, even as what little light there was gave way to an endless darkness before him. The decision for him was simple; stop, and die. Run, and maybe die. It was the only option.

Sulh ran forward, and fell into the abyss below.

[mystic1110]

Part 1 - A judge without a court

Onori’s time on the ship was a silent one. She sat in the dark chamber below deck, at the back of the ship, alone not speaking to anyone ruminating on her failure and realizing that her silence was just another failed mark on the history of her duty. She was to be the judge of the god,s but already, without one foot planted on the shore of the Old World, her opinions and learned wisdoms were worth less than nothing. Most of her brethren didn’t approach her during the journey, and those who did merely offered quiet pitying condolences, worth even less than nothing. She couldn’t judge her family, they would not accept it. She could not enforce those judgments; they would not stand for it. Her sword forged of law was already rusted by the sea air, and this was not a metaphor. She took out the familiar blade which she worked so hard on and saw the finest layer of verdigris running along it. And thus Onori spent her time on the ship in silence, staring at nothing with her cold grey eyes, wearing armor that blended into the darkness. Her world was slowly unraveling, and if one was to read her tome at that moment, one would just see her repeating all the seventy seven times seventy seven laws of the Old Gods over and over. . .

* * *

Onori was running, the wolf roaring behind her. Like on the island, Onori left perfect footprints in the sand, deep ones due to the weight of her armor. Even running, and weighed down, she did not drag her feet and one can follow her journey on the beach with perfect clarity. Ismin’s last command was almost absolute. She spared no thoughts on her brethren or those ruminations that assaulted her during the voyage. She only thought of running.

Eventually she found herself far from the beach and covered in sweat. Her short hair laid flat against her head, more salt than her unassuming locks. Back on the island, out of all her family she devoted the most time to the training of her body. Others may have been stronger than her, but she ran miles in practiced her martial skills in the gymnasium while they slept. And she read and wrote as they awoke, only to don her armor and exercise more. So for her to be panting, which she was, for her to be wet and exhausted, which she was, she surely must have ran far; probably much further than anyone else from the silver ship.

And so she stopped and turned around, drawing her sword that held within all the Old Laws, and also a thin line of rust ready to face the enemy. But there was nothing there. No wolf. There was only silence around her. She was a judge without a court. She turned around again to face the direction she had run towards, and began to move towards that vast unknown again, except now she walked.

[hi-mi-tsu]

Laelia

Everything was black.

Black sand, black sky, black trees. They had hollowed out a pocket of light, in Sinderfjal, but even that seemed a feeble thing against the oppressive blackness.

She did not normally mind the darkness. On the island, the darkness was where some of the most beautiful creatures lingered, luminescent beasts that could only be appreciated when they were the only source of light. But this blackness was different. This blackness was hungry.

Everyone had been still, when Sinderfjal had landed. Everything had been still. It was only after gathering their packs and stepping off the ship that the stillness had been broken by a monster.

Black, black except for the eyes - the eyes that burned with a cold blue fire, freezing her in place, the eyes that swept over her as though she were nothing more than, perhaps, a meal. When his lips curled back in a triumphant howl, she felt herself nearly buckling, only held upright by a pure, primal terror. They had only just arrived, and this thing was going to destroy them, break them like kindling upon the shore--!

Then - brightness. A brightness so pure and clean in the miasma of pain and fear that it was blinding, heart-wrenching, a blindness that struck out against the monster Vorikon, the monster she knew in her marrow. And then…

Madness.

“Run!”

----------

How long?

How long had she run for?

Laelia sagged against a tree, a tree like all other trees. She was lost. Utterly lost in the black trunks and thick branches that sought to ensnare her.

At least the fog seemed thinner between the trees, the howls of the damned echoing less in her mind. For a moment, it seemed, she could breathe.

Imsin...had he known? Was that why he’d made Sinderfjal so? Had he known, and not warned them? The thought made her shake her head, violently. No. No. He was their guardian and their guide, their leader and caretaker. He would never thrust them so unprepared into danger. To expect hardship - well, he’d told them stories, had he not? Warned them that this world was not one like the island. Warned them that there would be monsters.

She simply had not understood how true his warnings were.

Think. She had her pack. She was separated from the others, but...she had her supplies, paints and brushes. The trees were black, not white, but her colors were bright. She was alone, but she could leave signs.

The rustling of the fog was growing louder. She would have to work quickly.

An hour later, a tree enrobed in a skirt of silver stood stark against the ashen limbs of its fellows. An island bobbed in a cobalt-painted sea, blue and green and grey. Have hope.

There was no more time. Shoving her supplies back in her bag, Laelia ran.

[TechnOkami]

Sulh

The night, ever reaching and blacker than pitch, took its course. Eventually it gave way to dismal strands of dim sunlight, barely illuminating the world in its monotone luminescence. Yet as it grew and strengthened, for what little that meant when it was all but burned out, the darkness seemed to... linger. Bleak conditions aside, the attempt of a morning revealed that the world was not one of ashen trees upon ashen trees, but sand. Richer than ink, what light there was reflected the collective sheen of the innumerable, obsidian-like grains of a desert. Black dominated the horizon, save for the perpetual overcast conditions of the sky and the coagulated gray slop of mud that insulted the very word "river".

All was still, for those brief few moments. It was broken as a mound in the mud rose ever so slightly forward. Rising higher, it began separating from the river, revealing a figure bent by the weight of mud upon its back. It convulsed and shook, lurching forward and freeing itself from that thick grey soup. Mud-caked arms reached out, fingers grasping for a foothold finding only sharp razor sand to hold. The figure recoiled in pain, then began spewing unintentionally consumed portions of the river. It took a moment, but the nausea subsided. Those wounded hands reached up to wipe away its face, gingerly. Caked in a combine of wet and drying mud, Sulh looked upon this land with clear eyes for the first time.

As he leaned back, what mud there was fell from his form, the major clumps anyways. He was still covered in mud, but as a manageable whole. It didn't change the fact that he was filthy from head to toe, the alabaster purity of his toga first marred by blood now quite literally stained by the nearly solidified grey river he stood in. He tried to recall how he arrived here, but what thoughts he had gave way to images, one of a terrifying wolf whose name was Vorikon, another a conglomeration of horrific and howling spirits upon spirits. Sulh had to take a moment to compose himself at those images, shaking terribly, breath stuttering. Yet as he collected himself, a sudden thought invaded and eclipsed all others, reaching a hand to his stomach. He exhaled a sigh of relief, able to discern the sharp corner of the book he received from Imsin through the muddied cloth of his toga.

Thank Iona and Maronti, it's still there.

He reached his hands' brother towards its kin, both grasping the tome through the cloth, clutching it firmy, protectively. This was the one thing Sulh didn't want to lose. He smiled to himself, one of relief and happiness. Then he looked up, and frowned.

He did not recognize this place, let alone how he got there. But even if he didn't... his book might. He winced in pain as he reached inside his toga to pull it out. Looking at his hand once more revealed several grains of that razor sand he pushed his palm into earlier still embedded therein. He brushed what he could away with a piece of his toga, tenderly flexing it. Though sore and bleeding a bit, he was satisfied. He pulled the book out, opened to where he was, and backtracked from there.

...after Sulh fell into the darkness, he passed out before falling into something thick. Later, he would wake to find himself covered from head to toe in mud, along the banks of a black desert.

Aah, so I passed out.

Sulh looked down to see all his thoughts laid bare within the book, the corner of his mouth curling upwards. He then shut it closed. He took a moment to look around and see. Sheer cliff lay to his back, he was standing knee deep in mud, and an expanse of black sharp sand stretched out before him. He could keep sloughing through the mud, but it would be slow. Certainly there would be no water nearby to drink from, and he was no athlete to attempt a climb of that mountain. He looked out to the desert of blades before him.

Lifting a leg from the mud, he placed a naked foot into the razor sand, the soles of his feet opening at the barest hint of pressure.

He struggled to hold back from recoiling, and placed a second foot ahead of that one.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

[mystic1110]

Part 2 - An execution of a shadow

Onori had walked for days without end through the forest unyielding. She had heard the sounds of animals but none crossed her sight. She had heard the sounds of things, but did not see what made them. Back on the island she had slept, like everything else she had done within a strict regimen. Sleep, like eating was a necessary for the efficiency of her legal and martial training. Now however, there were dark bags under her eyes, and her body that usually had an appropriate level of fat, again necessary for a healthy and efficient warrior, had shrunk and tightened. She was merely muscle walking in armor now. A sleep deprived bag of skin in a metal shell.

That is why when she reached the city, she stopped. For she couldn't be sure that the city was in fact there. Was it merely a dream? She had crossed, what had seemed like an endless expanse of green jungle, to bear witness to this grey ruin.

The city was not grand. It was merely a small collection of grey walls which had long ago succumbed to the jungle surrounding it. However, the walls were not trees and their right angles were soothing to Onori's mind. She decided to seek shelter in its regularity and find solace in sleep.

She walked into the city, and held out her gauntleted hand to the walls. They were rough hewn brick, but they were still strong and solid despite the years and the elements. She walked down what was once a main street and bore witness to how the city was actually deceptively larger than it appeared from the edge of the forest. The buildings were not tall but the avenue stretched far enough, and curved enough, that she couldn't see what laid at its end. She decided to find out.

And so Onori walked along the ancient road, and she began to hear voices, murmuring. . . She paused and drew her sword forged of law. The green blue rust that had started on the voyage has grown in the jungle. It had spread from one side of the blade past the edge onto the other. Onori noted that she will have to clean the blade when she had time. A shout! Onori turned around to face its direction, but here in the city it echoed till it came from all around her. She wasn't afraid, for somewhere in the back of her mind - this . . . naked blades on the streets of a city, made sense.

She walked down the avenue once more and suddenly spied from afar a shadowy figure. Not that the figure was mysterious, although it certainly was, but it seemed to be made of shadow itself. Indeed, instead of feet it floated on the bricks of the road on wisps of ever changing smoke. The figure appeared to be a person, although the shadow of its form made it seem like it wore a long cloak and a wide brimmed hat, from which tendrils of smoke fell from and thus obscured its face. Its hands were like hers, except the fingers turned into small ephemeral zephyrs of dying embers. For some reason she could quite place, she could tell that the figure was not facing her.

The figure walked - floated - into an alleyway and Onori quietly gave chase. She had practiced running in her armor on the island, for she had read that covert operations were necessary during times of war. She had often surprised her brethren when they came to the library to try to cavort, only to run into her roaming silently through the stacks. The specter, for that's what it was, or a wraith - Onori couldn't tell - paid her no heed. After a couple of turns between different alleyways and ruined courtyards, another three shadow like figures joined the first. Like the first, they too seemed to wear wide brimmed hats that were made of smoke that fell like a veil to obscure their features. And like the first, they paid her no heed.

Onori continued to follow, her sword out in front of her ready, although she had already supposed that she would run if engaged. For what good was a blade against shadow and smoke. Then, not a noise. . . but a feeling, Onori quickly turned around a saw that more of the strange figures had formed behind her. She was ready to flee when they moved past her. In a chilling moment before she could react, one moved through her. She was in the center of a parade of ghosts.

She followed the figures in their procession, colder now than she had ever been - in fact, she did not notice, but a frost had formed on her black armor. Eventually the figures stopped in what seemed to be an amphitheater, and begun to take their spots along its stands. Onori spied down to the center of the theater, where, presumably, the apparently blind ghosts were looking. There at the center seemed to be a hangman's platform. Upon the platform was another one of the shadow figures, except that this one did not have what she assumed to be wide brimmed hats. Instead she could see that the figure was once perhaps a man. The bottom of what was once his face seemed almost solid black, and it was connected to his body on the same sort of solid shadow. The top half of his face, where his eyes would have been was billowing smoke and shadow into the air. Around his solid neck was a very real rope tied in a noose.

Onori realized that she had come to see an execution. An execution of a man already long dead.

[5ColouredWalker]

CO P1: Fragmentation

"Run!"
Memoria did.
Memoria wasn't a fighter, in her first moments she panicked, and in her second moments she listened.
Into the mists went the recorder, her sprint fast yet silent as her feet carried her, soon Stygen would be the only that could find her, a patch of mist in the mist, her movements almost non-existent to the senses were one more than a meter from her...

There was no holding of hands... No friends exploring together... There was only isolation in a mist almost thicker than water, and with depths that left Memoria safely lost within it's embrace.
Depths in which a god hid like a scarred mortal, kneeling silent in a depression, waiting for the danger to pass, and some sort of sign that it was safe to move.


While the mist was great to hide in, it was not something Memoria could become lost in.
Each backward step, each landmark seen only as a fuzzy image returned Memoria to the beach, her footsteps silent and ears straining. One could no more hear her than a man could hear the high-pitched whistles that called to dogs.
Finally, the land changed, sand shifted silently underfoot, and Memoria looked over the ocean... To where the boat was.

There were signs of flight, signs of struggle, but no family... But Memoria was no tracker, to her eyes there was nothing left, everything dragged away by the tides... Confident in her senses, Memoria walked on the sand until she reached near where the boat was and sat, eyes wet as she watched the waves...

And then she didn't.
With whispered words Memoria drudged up the past, the air around her filled with old lights and rhythms. From these, Memoria heard the violent and terrified screams once more, and watched her family run off into the mist, almost all looking too confused for her to follow without draining herself, and those with a clue ran so as to be untraceable.

There would be no journey of discovery together, no familiarity, no family walking by her...
She would be alone.
Memoria wept, her tears loosing themselves on the wet sand.

[TechnOkami]

Sulh

How many days had it been since he stepped into that endless expanse of knives? Sulh could no longer remember. His soles were pierced with shards of that black razor glass, blade after blade prodding through his feet between the very bones within. Though already glossy due to their composition, the luster of the obsidian gained a sanguine hue as Sulh shambled forward, leaving a trail of bloodied footprints on the broken glass behind him. Countless times he buckled to his knees in exhaustion, and countless times would he do so again.. until he found his solace, until he found his peace. The ceaseless throbbing of a thousand knives driven through his feet was complemented by the sharp pulse of many more jutting out of his legs. His toga was pinned to his form, obsidian brushes painting the once white fabric red muddled with muddy browns. This was exhaustion which he had not known before, merged with the heat and dehydration of a desert composed entirely of sun reflecting glass. He had no provisions with him, assuming they would stay venturing upon the ship; his hunger had multiplied sevenfold since then. Sulh's mind was stretched thin and taut with the copious elements that battered him. His voice was devoid of moisture, haggard and dry. If he did not die of hunger, he certainly would from thirst.

But as he looked forward, seeing the flickering waves of heat that lied of their promises of water, a color which Sulh had not witnessed before in such abundance stood plain in stark contrast to this jagged sea; emerald and green lay upon the horizon, as vibrant and lush as the fabled pastures of his forbears. He could not run with the numerous shards of razor glass inhibiting him, but his shamble was one filled with hope in every stride. What he found... was not what little of the rational thoughts that remained within his skull expected.

A crater lay before him, and within that basin an emerald substance. It glowed in opposition to the dull embers of the sun, to the point that it was, with all frankness, more noticeable than the shaded light coming from above. It lay still atop a portion of this jagged desert that seemed to have fused into a stable foundation of some kind, no longer a clatter of these razor rocks but a solid, hollowed out base that held the liquid within. Sulh took a step onto the solid structure, the blades that remained lodged in his feet protesting as pain spasmed therein. He recoiled, initially, but his desire for that green treasure in front of him was too great. He slammed that foot down upon the block of solid stone, yelling with a combine of anger and determination. The obsidian shards broke apart, and left a smoother surface of the shards still embedded therein. He was past the gentle being he was known to be, now only longing for sustenance to such a degree that he would harm himself further for it. He slammed down with his second foot. He was in more pain than ever, but it kept him awake and his senses raw to input.

He walked purposefully to the edge of that pool. Kneeling down on both knees, he reached his hands into it, cupping some of that luminescent liquid. He held his palms up to his lips, and drank. It was a concoction of sour and bitter, barely stomachable by sane standards, but Sulh did not have such luxuries. Survival was on the line. He gathered handful after handful, drinking as if he had not tasted a refreshing beverage. He did not notice as his hands blossomed with a tingling sear. He did not notice as his mouth burned and chaffed, his lips curling away. He would not stop even as he felt his esophagus, stomach, and chest erode from the inside out. He only stopped as he felt the onset of a pain he had not known before, a slow grind of sandpaper and acid washing over something more precious to a being like him than could even be properly depicted: he could feel it eat away his very divine spark. His eyes went wide as he clawed at his chest and throat, desperately trying to reach at the acid which harmed him so. He reached two fingers down his mouth and began belching as much of what he consumed out of his system, but the damage was already done. His spark burned like the dying sun above him, blooming pain coupled by the now internal and external rotting of his flesh. What was it that he drank? What could carve and shave away at the very golden glow of his essence?

Even as he screamed, his vocal chords became hoarse and horrific. The acid whittled at them until they sounded more beast than humanoid in volume and function. He writhed in pain, the contortion of his body curving between his upper back and his feet. Wounds once caked and closed now reopened to find themselves irritated by the deadly sharp particles of glass afloat in the air. Sulh was blinded by the newfound reaches of agony he felt, struggling to keep consciousness let alone breathe with how much he was screaming. But forward he must walk if he wanted to live, and live he still wanted to. He was running on instinct now, hoarsely growling with deep reverberating tonalities previously foreign to him. Every single exhalation was pain. Still on his back, he grunted and howled as he rolled onto his stomach; that caustic substance had eaten away at his flesh, exposing the bones of his hands, the jaws of his face, and the central cavity of his chest. The traces of that emerald luminescence backlit the ribs of his gaunt and battered form. Up he rose, standing once more though lost in his pain, dragging himself through the desert and away from that caustic pool.

His mind, more bestial and reactive than the fount of logic and reason it had been, was still an exhausted organ of his body. The pain he put himself through wore on all of him. The thoughts within his skull were no exception, the delirium, exhaustion, pain, and undernourishment now manifesting at their strongest. He could hardly tell fact from fiction at this point, the mirages of that glass desert only amplifying the blur. His horizon began to darken with billowing clouds, countless insects, locusts, finding Sulh and feasting upon his flesh, biting every little bit of him. He waved his arms in a flurry to remove them from his person, so they bit his arms instead. Another shape begun to coalesce amidst the insects. It was distant and vague at first, but eventually formed into the only friend Sulh had seen for what was too long of a time. He ceased his flailing as he stared at the figure. It reached out a hand of beckoning towards Sulh. Broken, battered, and so very tired, it took what little of his precious energy to reach back.

"Im... sin..."

The figure dropped his hand, head downturned, form receding back to nothing as a wall of flying glass surged forward. Sulh looked up in alarm to see what his delirium had hid from him, and beheld a great storm of glass blades billowing and churning as a storm of swords before the fledgling god. There was nothing he could do. There was no time. Sulh pulled the book from under his tunic to protect his face, but it was simply too late. Long shards of obsidian flying around throughout the storm impaled that blessed tome to his chest. Sulh roared like a cornered beast, his predator the elements and whatever the substance he dared imbibe. In his state of monumental and mounting pains upon pains, he could no longer bear it. He willed and wished so much for aid, so strongly was the overwhelming need to live that his corroded divine spark rang out like a single note and chime, spreading past the borders of the desert and the ashen forests. Nay, past those and to the very ears of his kin whose sparks were always listening. But they weren't the only things, for the ghosts heard his plea for aid, and found it a most tempting dinner bell.

Sulh had to squint away from the storm to see anything through it, trying to protect his eyes from the glass. Innumerable blades found their way into his body, and what shards that could not find purchase either slit more wounds open or drove already present shards deeper and deeper in. His senses and sanity were a chaotic maelstrom of torture and agony, an amalgamation of wounds and trauma. Yet in that dark foray of obsidian pains he saw the mistral outline of the gheist before him, a stark contrast to his surroundings. Shards passed through it unharmed, and it looked all the livelier with the wind pulling and pushing at its form. He could feel the wind turn to one of cold and ice, inconsequentially numbing his pain. In that moment, Sulh's eyes went wide as he recognized the ghost for what it was: a ruined soul of the damned left behind in the Old Gods' exodus, rotted and abandoned in The Serpent's wake. All it knew was pain, and now raced towards Sulh, beckoning a sudden onslaught of spirits to overwhelm and crush the fledgling God as chaff before the wind. Sulh lay between two storms, one corporeal and the other incorporeal. There was nothing he could do about it. It cracked at the vestiges of his sanity.

Sulh breathed deep and long, pushing his lungs past the point of their maximum expansion. Unleashing a dark, guttural, bestial bellow upon the massing spirits, his long-pent anger and frustration pushed out in a wave of crimson at his surroundings. The pieces of the obsidian storm fled from his position, driving past and through the conflux of tortured spirits surrounding him. Those innumerable phantoms wailed in return, rushing Sulh from all sides. They sought their feast with an unearthly relish and revelry, the first of those white apparitions to reach him jutting familiar bloody claws through his exposed chest cavity. Yet as those spectral claws cut past the flesh and spirit, touching upon the very wounded spark which composed Sulh, an eldritch bond of mutual pain and anger was forged between the two. A second shockwave erupted from the deity; the storms halted their movements. Those obsidian shards stalled in mid air, spinning slowly and aimlessly about him. The sudden stopper in the ghosts momentum gave way to angered shrieks of protest, clawing forward at nothing in a vain attempt to reach him. Sulh, hunched over from the initial impact of the first ghost to touch his form, slowly turned his head up at the writhing congregation. Disintegrated hands reached up with boney fingers around the edges of the impaled book, removing it from his chest with glass and all. Those same hands grasped with a new found strength not previously present within, and with wrathful intent, Sulh tore his fingers past the book's boundaries, ripping the tome in half. The silver covers seemed to boil in response to his temperament. They separated into further strips, wrapping around his wrists and throat. They were the roiling cuffs and bonds of memory. The paper desperately tried to cling to him, some pages finding purchase upon the obsidian shards they were now impaled upon, but countless more flying every what way, endlessly generating from the twisted properties of the ruined artifact.

Shreds of mist leaked from his mouth and nostrils, suddenly reversing direction as Sulh began to inhale, and inhale, and inhale! The glass surrounding him began to move, slowly at first, but they were driven faster and faster by the fledgling deity into a vortex surrounding him. Paper pieces scrawled with writings of wrath and ruin in sanguine ink danced upon that new storm. Initially the ghosts continued to only feel anger, for they could not understand confusion in their state. One by one they began to pull into that funnel of wind, glass and paper, and a long distant emotion overtook them all: fear. To their effort they attempted to flee, but the initial expressions of power from an ascending God is a special thing, something none of their collective might could deny. White mist began joining that funnel before him, the souls of the lonesome and damned joining with Sulh as that same bond was forged again and again. As they merged with Sulh's being, their pain became his pain, their wrath his wrath, and their desires, his. He embraced it all, and drank deeply of their collective strength. He wanted their vengeance. He needed it, so strongly that it became every desire and thought he'd ever bore. He lusted for the complete and utter destruction of the constructs, spawn and machinations of The Serpent in totality. He would not stop until every scale had been stripped from its skin, its eyes impaled by its own fangs, and its flesh turned inside out from the inside out. Yet there was a second desire, a hunger equal to the need to see The Serpent brought to ruin. The one that was left behind by even the Old Gods, the one who sent them upon this voyage within a craft of his silver affection. Imsin would find no peace so long as Sulh lived. Sulh would not rest until he found a way back to the Isle, bringing Imsin and The Serpent low, retribution delivered in equally overwhelming measures.At the manse, amidst his lonesome halls now devoid of his foster children, the tapestry pertaining to Sulh writhed in wind that was not there. Crimson liquid dripped and pooled beneath it, red and wiry tendrils poking out to form a living tapestry of a wound unsealed, ever raw and unhealing. The first of these new Gods had risen, embracing the depths of wrath and pain to lash it back upon the deserving.

Witness! Tremble! Hail! Sulh!

[Gengy]

Rize and Ruyn, Part 2: Lighting the Kindling
“Jongo tried to talk with the earth, and found it unwilling. It could only scream it's agony.
But there was another voice. It crackled with glee. It burned with excitement. It flared with triumph.
Fire answered.”
– Gengy, Heroes of the Fall (2012)

Ruyn could not see where they were going. He could barely hear the sounds of his twin’s breath as they fled the beach. The feeling of danger was ever present behind them, though whether it was real or just the emotions placed into them by Imsin’s word of warning, neither twin knew. They spoke not at all, only continued to run. They took no breaks. They did not stop to eat, did not try to grasp for flasks of water; they just ran. For hours, Rize and Ruyn ran together. For what must have been at least a day, they ran, without stopping.

They were no longer children, able to be out of breath after a sprint from the Manse to the shoreline. They were fully grown, if not into their power, then into their bodies. Pinnacles of physical prowess, they could – and did – run without stopping for far longer than any mortal man. Yet, even they had a limit.

Rize, though inhumanly gifted, was less so than Ruyn when it came to matters not of the mind. After over a day, Ruyn could feel Rize leaning on him more, his breath becoming tired. Hours later, Ruyn felt his twin’s arm snake across his neck, and Rize was now half running, half being dragged. An hour after that, and Ruyn could sense that Rize could run no more; yet the sense of danger had not ebbed. Ruyn swung his own shoulder sack to be in front of him, and, still moving forward, he accepted the weight of Rize and his twin’s belongings onto his own back.

Though they now were moving half as quickly, Ruyn kept them going for hours more, his brother riding piggy-back. His own body began to protest, and yet still he trudged forward. He himself was starting to pant in exertion. Though… Rize was no longer breathing heavily. In fact, if it were not for the weight of his brother’s body, Ruyn wouldn’t be sure that Rize was there at all.

Shouting over his shoulder, half in fear, but still moving, Ruyn pierced the silence, “Zee!?”

There was no answer. Ruyn stopped. For the first time in nearly a day and a half, he stopped moving. Still with Rize upon his back, Ruyn shook his brother. “ZEE!”

For a moment, Rize did not move. He barely looked alive. Finally, he stirred. “Huh? Wha…? Just… just five more minutes, Wye. I was having a good dream.”

“You.” Ruyn couldn’t believe his ears. Though running out of breath himself, he shouted right at his brother, “YOU. WERE. NAPPING?!”

“Ow. You don’t have to yell. And, well, I was, until someone woke me up, Mr. Shouty.” Rize looked around. All was still fog and eerie silence. “Why have we stopped moving? Are we there yet?”

“I swear by the teeth and toes of every single Elder God, you are just… I can’t even begin to fathom how you can sleep while we’re running for our…” Through a mixture of being tired and disbelief, Ruyn couldn’t articulate his mixture of feelings properly. After a few seconds, he began to walk again. A moment later, he tiredly said, “You unmitigated ass!”

"Not me, your Imsin-ness. You got the wrong guy. I just happen to look like someone who is one." Rize smirked, still riding piggy-back.

“I swear, if there… weren’t…” Ruyn gasped as he moved onward, “things… probably trying to kill us… I’d drop you, right now.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Napping? Really?!”

“The way I see it, this is more efficient. Let me get in a couple more hours of rest, and then we’ll switch places if this fog hasn’t ebbed by then. That way, one of us is feeling good, even if the other is tired.”

“A couple… more… hours?!”

“Well, yeah. I won’t be able to go as quickly as you.”

“You’re just… trying… to get out… of carrying me.”

“It’s true, I am enjoying the ride.”

“Jerk.” Ruyn didn’t let his brother go, though. “Fine. Tell me… a story.”

“A story?” Rize leaned in and asked right next to Ruyn’s ear.

“Keep my mind… occupied. Easier to move.”

“I’m not Imsin. All the stories I know, you already know.”

“That’s fine. Story! Start… talking! I feel better… hearing you speak.”

“Fine.” Rize was silent for a moment, but when he spoke again, it was a fair imitation of Imsin’s voice.


-------------------------------------
In the Old World, during the time of the Serpent’s first assaults, when the Elder Gods still thought there held a chance of victory, there was a lesser servant of Kilameth the Thunderer.

(“Oh come on, Zee. The Deceiver story?”)

(“Shut up and walk, Wye. You told me to tell you a story. Not which one.”)

…there was a lesser servant of Kilameth the Thunderer. His name was Abhugo the Element Binder. He was tasked with taking aspects of elementals – without harming them – and crafting weaponry and tools for the Maiden of Storms. In his own way, he was exceptionally skilled. He could see the very elementals themselves, speak with them, entreat with them, and with their acquiescence, the things he made were grand achievements envied by many of the Elder Gods.

Abhugo was respected, even if he was not seen as an equal. He was no god himself; merely a servant. Yet most treated him with reverence, for the elementals were, by their very nature, wild things; someone so skilled at working with them deserved deference, or so Abhugo felt.

For all his skill, for all that he did, he was not universally respected. It nettled at him that there were some who did not at least give him the credit due him for his works, and most frustrating of all, he never heard a word of thanks from his Mistress, the Maiden of Storms herself, Kilameth. He, who could wield the wind into a fine blade, with an edge so small, small did not begin to describe it! He, who could work water into a mace, that with every bash, the very soul would freeze from the chill of both metal and fluid! He, who could cajole the stubborn earth into a wailing whip that seemed to be made entirely of dust, but struck devastation as it disintegrated everything it touched into the dust it was made of! He, who could settle fire into a torch, and command it not to burn, no matter who touched it!

Yet Abhugo received no praise from the Thunderer. He threw himself into his work. He did as he was told; he made the weapons and tools he was asked for. He made them well, exactly as required. Not a word of approval ever came from Kilameth.

He did not understand it. When he was not tasked with anything, he soon found himself rolling the lack of admiration around in his thoughts, and it festered and grew; from simple displeasure to distaste to outright distain of his mistress. Where before, he would seek her out and try to speak with her when she was visiting his Elemental Forge, now he waited for her to find him, and brooded on what he felt was her obvious disgust with him. He was curt with her, keeping his conversation to only questions pertaining to his work; the Thunderer would come, request a weapon or a tool, explain what she desired, and leave.

Abhugo found that, more and more, he was just waiting for her to leave. He wanted to finish whatever work she dared give him, and with every blow of his hammer against the forge, he began to curse her name under his breath, and that, they say, is how the servant of the Serpent found him.

The Deceiver goes by no other known name. Some say he too is an elemental – one of lies and falsehoods – and that is why Abhugo could speak with him so freely. Whatever the reason, the Deceiver began whispering within Abhugo’s ears untruths; but the best of lies are those that seem like fact, for they are then rooted in reality and cannot be knocked asunder as easily.

She thinks little of your work. The Deceiver whispered, and Abhugo believed it. For with no word of appreciation from the Thunderer, how could it be otherwise?

She thinks little of you. Again, Abhugo believed it, for much the same reason.

Mess up once, and she will find another. Also surely true! For if she did not like him or his work, Abhugo became sure that Kilameth would discard him as soon as it was less than flawless.

(“Man, who… ever… believes disembodied… voices they hear?”)

(“Shut up, Wye. You’re spoiling the good part.”)

…as soon as it was less than flawless.

Following this reasoning, his already exceptional efforts became as close to perfection as he could make them. Even the most stubborn of elementals was easily bound to his will, and the things he crafted with them were all the more useful or deadly, or both.

Yet still Kilameth the Thunderer said nothing to him regarding his work, and with hints that the Serpent was now loose in the world, his craft was all the more needed. The Elementals were thrust into weaponry, and bound by Abhugo’s words and will. The Deceiver found him again, and whispered a plan made of half-truths and mostly-lies.

You could be the hero that defeats the Serpent. You could command an army of Elementals, and throw them into the face of the Opposition. You would surely receive your due then. From the shadows, the Deceiver whispered, and Abhugo believed him.

He rallied the elementals – all of them that he could – and set himself to raising an even larger army. Elemental after elemental answered his call, and when he had a force that could match the might of any god? The wind, water, earth, and fire marched with him to defeat the Serpent once and for all.

The elemental army was among the first to fall to the innumerable horde that answered the Serpent. Abhugo the Element Binder was not seen again. His craft and skills were lost. It is said that Kilameth did not weep for him.

-------------------------------------

“Geez. Every time… I hear that story, I always think…” Ruyn gasped as he trudged on, “Mom was… pretty heartless.”

“That wasn’t the point of the story, and you know it, Wye. The point is to never dwell on perceived insults, just because someone doesn’t say something to you.”

“Oh. I always thought it was to make sure you do say thank you.”

“You would! That’s just the first lesson. No, no. The real point is that you should just move on with your life if something you think is terrible happens. It’s probably not as bad as you think, and you’re just dwelling on something and making it much worse. I mean, if Abhugo had just gotten over himself, he could have seen that he was able to rally an entire army just by asking the elements to help him.”

“He did rally an army.”

“For the wrong reason! And he charged in with that army like a mouse charging a lion. He went in on his own, and that’s another lesson: don’t try to steal the glory. You know the difference between a glorious battle and a desperate last stand?”

His brother on his back, and still trudging onward, Ruyn took a moment to consider this, before at last answering, “No. What?”

“In a desperate last stand, you die at the end.”

Ruyn was about to respond to that, but he felt his foot slipping. He looked down. The ground was there. There was nothing for him to slip on. He took another step, and suddenly had this odd sensation of being turned around. He took yet one more, and there was a slow, almost satisfying crunch, as his boot pressed into what appeared to be dirt, crushed together over time to create a much harder surface than normal.

He had heard his foot hit the ground. He was seeing something other than fog. The fog was not everywhere anymore, and as Ruyn watched the ground, tendrils of grey blew away from his body and feet, like some great living beast had chosen to let him go. He turned to watch, and in one breath, there was a wall of fog that was behind him; in another, in faded into nothingness, leaving him staring at a cliff wall, taller than anything he’d ever seen before. It was almost supernaturally carved in how smooth it appeared, and it shimmered and shone in even the darkness of the night. For it was night, and the stars were beginning to twinkle on, as though they themselves were once covered in fog and only just now being released.

The cliff wall kept going as far to the left and to the right that Ruyn could see, before it eventually curved on both sides, and still, it kept going until even Ruyn could no longer view it in the gloomy darkness. Reaching out with one hand, Ruyn touched the wall, and instead of feeling like rock, it was like touching crystal; it was cool and smooth, and as all the stars came out, a pattern emerged within the wall. Two great strands of strata seemed to dance within the escarpment, creating twisting and twirling loops that seemed to be what was causing the cliff-face to shimmer in the starlight.

Just as he heard Rize gasp at something behind him, Ruyn reached out, not with his hand, but with his mind, to talk with the stone elementals here, and compliment them on their beauty.

He felt himself gasping as well.

If there were elementals here… they were dead. And worse...

...they felt burned away.

[mystic1110]

Part 3 - Whom do you pray for deliverance?

The crowd of shadows watched the shade on the gallows silently. Onori held her rusted sword forward and surveyed the crowd. The shadow things (for in the laws she had read it was clear that the dead were not the living and should not walk the earth – calling them people held the taint of impropriety and illegality) watched the lone figure with the noose around its neck in cold silence. Onori thought to test one of the shades insubstantiality, and lightly prodded the billowing smoke where its feet would have been with her blade. The smoke made way for her sword as smoke does. There was nothing truly there. However, she had observed that the figure that was to be executed seemed to be made of solid darkness around the breast, neck and lower head, so Onori tested the nearest figure by continually raising her sword, waiting for resistance – but the wraith or ghost, or whatever, did not move from its silent vigil. The shadows though were growing thinker, and there came a point where she could not lift her sword through them, despite her amazing strength. The blade didn’t even cleave the thick darkness, it just stopped. . .

Onori withdrew her sword, but did not place it back into her scabbard, for even though she now knew her weapon was ineffective in harming any of these shadow things, it may still be useful in defense. A soldier must be willing to die, but for a cause, and not uselessly. She understood herself to be an investment, a tool for the liberation of this Old world – she must live. And yet, the shadow, despite her prodding did not voice or move for any protest; Onori was inconsequential to it. Onori thought she was egoless. . . a mere servant of the Gods for the Gods. . . but back when Ismin gave her brethren their tomes, she realized that being egoless was meaningless. . . ego was a faction of power. . . power incurred importance . . . and through importance laws and rules were imposed. She must embrace her ego and matter, for her to hope to become a judge. She understood that now, and the shadow’s indifference to her presence grated her.

As Onori silently watched the also silent crowd, a sudden flurry of movement occurred at the bottom of the amphitheater. One of the shadow creatures moved from the crowd to the stage. Like the others it had, what appeared to be a wide brimmed hat, off of which shadow smoke billowed off from like a veil obscuring its face. This figure floated up to the stage, the others in the crowd giving deference. The lone figure approached the man on the gallows and addressed the man (it, not a man, Onori reminded herself) in a harsh but soft language that was like two autumn leaves colliding and crumbing in the air. The figure had almost finished its speech before Onori recognized it.

If she believed in humor she might have laughed, but luckily she did not. The speech was the official legal language of ancient mortal courts - a language that had died out even before the coming of the serpent. Mortal courts used to have their own language, modeled after Godscript, but made for mortal tongues. It had fallen out of practice due to the gods themselves – the more legal minded of the gods, Onori’s own mother, had believed that mortals should be tried in their own language, not a language created solely for and by judges and lawyers. And yet, here, in this ruin of a city, this dead language was being used again – appropriately by dead things.

Back on the manse, Onori spent her time reading and training. She did not just read the laws of the gods, although she read those many times, she had also read about all the various laws and legal systems of the Old World. She read about courts that sentenced children to be skinned alive, and she read about courts that would console a criminal and lead them to reformation. She studied and sweated. And over the course of her life she had learned many languages to better learn the laws of the people whom spoke them; for she wanted to craft the most perfect laws. So Onori learned the language of these ancient lawyers, but she had never heard it spoke out loud. Now that she could place it, she could understand; and she understood the last sentence uttered by the figure whom approached the condemned.

It asked. . . "to whom do you pray to deliver you from death?"

An interesting question, Onori mused. There were no gods here anymore – no temples, no shrines. To whom did ghosts pray for? A sudden fire erupted in her chest as she thought – the serpent? But almost as suddenly, that fire was extinguished as the figure cried out in that very same tongue: “Justice!”

And suddenly the gallows opened and the rope tightened around the falling shadow (How did floating shadows fall?) and the shadow figure began to struggle in a pantomime of a man being strangled. There was only silence, even the dying ghost uttered to protest. Onori was not moved to act either, she did not know the justice of this action but neither did she know its injustice. So she also watched. Like one of the specters.

Before the shadow figure could stop its mime and begin one of true death, the figure that had questioned him, extended its arm made of darkness, and seemingly hardened it into a blade that looked to be made of night itself. Deftly and expertly it cut the rope that held the struggling shadow. The shadow man (try as she might, she could not help but think of it as a man) clutched the noose around its neck and cried out in the lawyer’s tongue: “Who are you?”

Another figure approached from the crowd – all of them indistinguishable. However as the figure approached it removed its wide brimmed hat and veil. Underneath, instead of another half face made of shadow with darkness spilling out like yolk from an egg (as the man whom was to be executed), this figure wore a yellow mask – a blank one, with no holes for eyes or from which to breath. It grabbed the fallen specter and raised it up with one suddenly solid shadow hand. It spoke:

“I am corruption. All things I weigh, but gold counts dearest, and you have none. All names I read, but those with titles please me best, and you descend from common dirt. You are a murderer, and that shall be your name henceforth.”

Another figure approached from the crowd – like the second, it was indistinguishable, but it too pulled off its wide brimmed hat under which was a mask of green and spoke to the specter.

“I am apathy. I am mercy refused. I am expedience. I am a signature on a page. I am death by clerks, by stamps, by seals in wax. I am cheap, I am easy. You are a murderer, and none shall care.”

The first figure, the one whom cut the hanging shadow down, the one whom asked to whom to the condemned ghost prayed to for deliverance, pulled off its wide brimmed hat and revealed a white mask in the same style of the others. It said:

“I am malice. I am the vengeance of the mob. I am the judge whom rules on feeling. I am what bars every door to opportunity, every wall, and forces you to commit the crimes I sentence you for. You are dead by my design.”

Together the masked specters – yellow, green and white – stated in the language of dead lawyers: “We are your Justice.”

Onori, despite her statuesque bearing, could not stay silent anymore. She had witnessed heresy! Heresy of the worst kind! In the gods’ absence the very concept of justice had been malformed into this atrocity of a play she saw before her. She immediately suspected that the serpent was responsible, that it had made one small adjustment somewhere, which had spread through society like a tumor, until the antithesis of justice replaced justice. So she cried: “No!” She could not prevent that word from escaping her lips (she could scarcely even tell how cold it was there in that amphitheater, her lips were blue, and the frost on her armor had spread until it almost covered it all).

The four specters, the three mockeries of justice and the condemned apparent murderer turned to her. The three masked ones spoke, repeating “We are Justice.”

Onori, now overcome by fury, began to walk through the crowd of shadows. She was always stern. She was always serious. Her brethren often avoided her – out of respect, or fear, or simply out of lack of any desire to break her out of her shell – but none have ever seen her angry. Exasperated, surely – Onori had gotten annoyed at pranks or whenever someone bested her in the gym, but even then she had often replied with cold silence. Now though she was livid. This was everything she had feared. As she walked she spoke.

You whom have forgotten the faces of your gods have forgotten justice! You pray and deal in nothing but contempt for each other!

As she spoke steam began to rise from her, her anger becoming literal heat – the ice on her armor rapidly evaporating.

You whom have forgotten the face of your gods have fallen into bedlam! You have fell so far from justice, you cannot even see it before you!

The rust that had grown on her sword ever since she left the manse had begun to fall off, the sword looking pure and more wholesome underneath.

The masked shadows looked in her direction, but it was hard to tell since none had holes for eyes: they spoke in unison. “Who are you?”

Onori paused before them and stated as fact, loud enough that it echoed.

“I am Justice!”

[mystic1110]

Part 4 – The Weight of Conviction

As Onori replied, the masked shadow with the green mask – which had named itself Apathy – scoffed: “Nay! You are but nothing, not even a shadow. Merely flesh and bone, ichor and blood. As one whom still breaths, how may you be Justice?”

The masked shadow with the white mask – which had named itself Malice – laughed in the dry sound of the lawyers tongue: “We are learned in the mechanics of Justice, we have been chosen from among the dead. You who claim to be a Judge, what gives you the authority, by whose choice do you rule, whom submits to you? We do not.”

The masked shadow with the yellow mask – which had named itself Corruption – did not laugh or scoff, and instead condemned: “You soil our court with your false pride. You soil our ideals with your contempt. I judge you an iconoclast.”

Apathy shook its head in agreement and said “I judge you an apostate.”

Malice said: “I judge you a heretic”

Together they softly said “And justice has spoken, your sentence shall be non-existence, as it is for all whom break our laws.”

Onori stood her ground and repudiated these rulings “I do not recognize the authority of your court. You have twisted the ideals that my forbearers have left to your care. My authority is my birthright – I am the God of Courts and Law, and I judge you charlatans! Your sentence shall be revocation of your apparent licensees, and your punishment to be mere shadows once more.”

The three masked shadows floated backwards in apparent anger and shock. Apathy screamed, in that strange dry language “You a child of the gods?! Even worse your crime is Divinity!”

Malice pointed one finger of darkness made flesh at Onori “Nay, smell the air on her; she has yet begun her apotheosis! Quick, we must act now to secure our judgment”

Corruption, whom still held the condemned shadow by the nape of its neck, shouted “We agree.” Now it turned to the condemned shadow and said “Murderer, you had a name in life, but no more. It has been taken from you. Murderer, you had another purpose in death, but no more. It has been taken from you. We are to do worse to you, but you are given the change of a reprieve. See this fledging godling, this one whom thinks she is to be queen of lawyers and judges alike. You are a Murderer. Murder her!”

With that the billowing shadow that kept on emerging from the top half of the top half of the Murderer’s face, flared but then gently. The shadow stood up and Onori saw that it no longer floated. Outside the shadow smoke emerging from the top of its head the show now known as Murderer seemed absolutely solid. It began to lumber towards her. She said “This is what your Justice demands? No trial and a sentence carried out by a condemned?”

Malice, Apathy and Corruption whispered “Yes, indeed.”

And with that Onori fled back through the crowd – she knew that her sword was useless in attacking the specter, and besides, she didn’t even know if she could harm the shadow that was now chasing her. She looked back as she ran – and saw that it was merely walking. The three so-called judges stood still on the platform in their masks. The Murderer was merely a tool of them, if she wanted to rule this court, she would need to defeat them; but how?

She continued to run; her large bulky armor again proving no impediment to her speed, her long training back at the manse proving its worth. The ruined city was like a vast maze – Onori though to throw off her pursuer by weaving in and through various alleys and small atriums. She took pause at a fountain to collect some water, for what she was sure to be a trial after all.

However, her rest was interrupted when she saw the water begin to crystalize into ice, she turned around and saw that Murderer was emerging through one of the walls. It was still walking, but it had seemed that he was walking directly to her, regardless of obstacles in his path. She brandished her sword, but Murderer kept walking towards her, heedless of the threat (because it apparently knew that the threat was pointless. Onori could not hurt him). Onori spoke “Who were you? What was your crime? The court of those masked ones is a sham, they cannot judge you. But I can.”

Murderer spoke as he slowly walked, and while Onori kept retreating, “In life I was a father. My son when still a child was married to a child-bride. Our house needed an extra worker if we were to survive the winter. We did not plan to feed her much. A war took my son from the house and left me with the girl. My own wives were in the fields tending to their work, when I took my pleasure on the girl. I continued this for some time. One day my son returned home from the war and witnessed my first crime. I took his life when he objected. That was my second crime. The third was to kill the girl out of annoyance. I lived till old age and died. And thus I was judged. Your death is my only salvation.”

Throughout this story Onori looked at the Murderer with her cold eyes getting even colder. As much as she disliked the three masked judges and what they stood for, she agreed with their verdict. Even here, at the verge of death she spoke: “You are a murderer, worse in fact. Your sentence is appropriate. But you shall find no salvation, for you shall not kill me.” She said that last remark as she swung her sword, for she felt its weight grow with ever mention of the man’s crimes. The sword cut into the shadow, and out spilled smoke into the air. The Murderer did not yell, but advanced more, the sword grating against its skin. Onori fled (a tactical retreat).

As she ran, she knew Murderer was following like eventuality itself. If one viewed the chase from the clouds, one would see a woman, with short blond hair encased in black armor that sucked the light from the air, being chased by a shadow. The woman would duck and turn, and run; the shadow would float slowly in her direction. One knew that the woman would tire despite her strength. The shadow would not.

As she ran Onori, thought on how she was able to cut the Murderer. What made her weapon able to harm the specter? As she ran, she saw that she had ended up in a dead end – she couldn’t afford to turn back, and so she ran towards the wall with her arms shielding her face. She crashed into the wall and burst through it sending dust and debris into the air. If Murderer relied on noise, it would have been an egregious mistake. Unluckily... it apparently did not. Onori kept running and thinking – how did she hurt the shade?

She needed to understand what happened. So as she ran she pulled out the tome that Ismin had prepared to her and her brethren, the tome that she had argued had to be destroyed. Running, with one hand she flipped to the latest pages, and read what her own thoughts had been. That’s when she understood. Hearing of the shadow’s crimes, she had judged him and had acted on the conviction. The tome had in perfect legalese, the crimes, the punishment, citations to past precedence, and the needed course of action. It was all there . . . when she had yelled before to Malice, Apathy and Corruption, that she was the law, was true. She was the law. In fact. In truth. She just needed to embody and believe it. Then nothing may withstand her rule. She would be authority itself.

Onori stopped running, and calmly returned to tome to its holding place in her armor. She took the sword forged seventy seven by seventy seven times in both of her hands. She noticed approvingly that the rust that had formed during her doubts had fallen away. From the end of the alley Murderer appeared, and Onori stared it down. As it floated slowly towards her, she walked slowly towards it. As she did she spoke softly in the language of dead lawyers, and autumn leaves:

“I am the Law. I am Justice. I am Authority. I decree you a Murderer, a Consanguifile, a Kin-Killer, a Rapist, a poor parent, a poor husband, and I decree you a unkempt spirit; a shade, a shadow, a ghost, a specter walking under the mortal sun, moon and sky. I sentence you to damnation in the first Hell that shall be created. Till then you are mine to command. Kneel.”

Onori stopped and raised her sword – her actions conveying that she would strike if needed to. Murderer felt the power of her words, and the force of her command. This was his goddess now. She was judgement after death, perhaps even before. And so he knelt. Onori placed her sword on its shoulder, and said.

“Rise. We return to Court, we have a tribunal to reform.”

And she walked back through the city, heedless of the threat of Murderer – for they both knew that there was no threat. He was hers, as all shadows will be.

[hi-mi-tsu]

Laelia

The murmurs in the fog had been shifting. She had run, and painted, and run again, leaving a trail of trees in her wake — some were painted with fanciful, beautiful designs, some simply painted to resemble the trees she remembered from home, covering up black bark and black branches with warm browns and bright greens and the tiny stars of flowers.

One tree was nothing but a shimmering expanse of stars, and had one of the spyglasses fashioned by Koriah and Calenciel buried in the ashen dirt at its roots.

One held a portrait of two gamboling wolf-cubs, frolicking through a garden. Nestled between the low-hanging branches was one of a set of bows given to her by Rize and Ruyn. The other stayed close to her heart, her warmth and reminder of her fun-loving, wild brothers.

A portrait of the quiet and sturdy Ulven hung on another tree, surrounded by animals, roaring hearth-fire behind him. Warm tones for that one, comforting and welcoming, a taste of home and peace and strength.

And the murmurs in the fog were shifting. The anger and hatred was still there, of course — she did not think it would ever go away. But intermixed with the hatred and the rage and the murderous intent were moments of wonder, and quiet, and confusion. Who was this girl, this strange girl, who was drawing on their trees? What were these visions she was painting?

In the rare moments that Laelia slept, visions came to her. A child, clutching a teddy bear in one hand and looking up at a woman whose face was made entirely of light. A summer garden, heavy with vegetables. A wave of darkness. A splash of crimson blood on a wooden floor.

Memories...? Or madness? How was she to decide? They drove her to paint them against the bleakness of the world. The good and the bad. The brutal depictions of war and death and the moments of quiet and love.

She was running low on paint. There was still so much more to do.

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The first animal was a rabbit. She'd learned a very little about snares and traps from her siblings, mostly Ulven, and had been able to cobble together something that vaguely resembled one of his fine masterpieces. The rabbit had been terrified, and the noise it had made when she approached had made her hands shake. But she needed paint. She needed crimson that was real and not fake for the blood on the floor of the house.

The rabbit had taken five hits with a rock to die. Four too many. She would have to get better. But the blood spilled into her empty paint containers warm and steaming, and it added the perfect touch to the picture she'd been fighting to complete. And there was a sigh, in the mist, of satisfaction. Of contentment that blood had spilled, even if it was not her own.

The rabbit meat tasted good even raw. She hadn't realized she was hungry until she'd sank her teeth into it. But fire was attention-grabbing, and not something she wanted.

At the base of that picture were bones.

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Ash and water mixed together made grey-black paste that could accentuate the shapes of faces.

There were bushes in the forest that bloomed with violently acid-green leaves, that when ground between rocks released a liquid that hissed and fizzed but glowed in the semi-darkness.

There were orange-brown mushrooms that made her fingers swell and itch and burn when she touched them, but which produced a beautiful umber shade when boiled in a small bowl of water over the most unobtrusive fire she could create.

There was art, here. Caught in her hair and the wild gleam of her eyes as she tilted her head to listen to the demands of the mists. As she painted their short and painful lives on rocks and trees and vast expanses of stone cliffside. They would not let her rest. They needed more.