The conversation between Enmach and Colin changed slowly as the rabbits and butterflies went about their business in the castle gardens. There was an ease in Enmach's mind, a full on detachment from things around her but a blissful contentment in feeling a part of it all at the same time. She did feel a slight sorrow on Colin's behalf, but no regrets, no remorse, no desire. This was her mindset on a great many things, though on occasion it could be disturbed. Enmach was still capable of getting angry when it was warranted.
The conversation went to Colin's daughter and her decision to move out. Enmach could tell it bothered Colin, and she realized that when the girl left, Colin would be alone in a huge cavernous home with only his misery at being alone. She knew from many of the conversations she'd held with Sanria that Colin loved being surrounded by family. He was losing everything.
Enmach recommended a family meeting for the Stones and Sanria, Orn, Leandra, Colin, and Sanria around a table, reaffirming bonds and love sounded simple enough to accomplish, and a way for the family to start walking the path of healing. First, however, she had to help Colin reach out to Sanria.
She walked over to a large rabbit and gently picked him up. She spoke into the rabbit's mind, 'The human you see will now be your master. You will give him kindness when he requests you take messages to Sanria. This will be your only purpose with him, and once this work is done, you may leave if you choose.' Enmach put a vision of the cottage where Sanria was staying into the rabbit's mind, as well as a vision of Sanria. 'You will be called Oliver.'
Handing the rabbit over, Enmach gave a deep bow. She could see on Colin's face a grim look of determination, and he echoed her thoughts on his visage. She merely smiled as they parted ways, hoping her words had seeded Colin's mind, taken root, and were prepared to grow.
Time By the Fountain
The four lion-heads each spilled out from their roaring mouths, adding a melodic trickle to the distant din of the waterfall that poured into the lake far below. Enmach and Colin sat on the edge of the fountain, and Enmach listened as Colin spoke, feeling not at all guilty for her part in separating Sanria and Colin. "A part of me feels like I went on a trip and when I came back my friend had stolen my wife away," Colin said in reference to Gilean. "To be honest, Colin, we had no way of knowing you would return. Our people did all they could do for you, and had no other recourse left with the gaps in your memory. Sanria... you see... was beyond hurt by this."
"Well, it seems she found some comfort."
"She didn't want to. I pushed her to do so."
There was a moment's shock on Colin's face as he looked over at her, still, Enmach felt no remorse. "You... what?" "I pushed her to seek out Ror when he asked for her to join him on a midnight picnic. I did not disparage her when she found comfort in Gilean's arms, though I advised against such a quick marriage... She needed to move on, Colin."
"But I was back. Sanria and I even found ourselves together... Now I couldn't feel all she felt but..."
"Colin... she remembered everything, even all the hurt you caused her, and you could not. There was no comparison to what she remembered and what you didn't. It is hardly even when that is a consideration. I am sorry it upsets you. But I also saw the pain it caused her being near you."
"So now I get to be the one in pain, is that it?"
"I did not do this with the intention of harming you. In fact, our being together was a way for you to also see you could move on past not remembering."
"So you calculated that?"
"In part. Though I also found joy in it."
"Great," Colin said, and put his head in his hands.
"Why do you insist on seeing it negatively? Did you not enjoy our time together as I did?" Enmach said these words without a twinge of feeling. Her emotions could not be reached. They were not a necessary part to her conversation now.
"Well, yes, but now it just feels like it was at least partially
motivated by pity. Not exactly the best feeling."
"Pity? No. Education. You can still move on, Colin."
"What if I don't want to move on?"
"Then there will be hardships ahead for more than just yourself."
Enmach listened and spoke when appropriate. Colin wanted Sanria back, and from everything Sanria said about him, Colin wasn't one to give up. Not easily, at least. Though she, too, had dealings with Colin, she did not have a stake in his future. She could speak freely - reminding him of Gilean, Matinus, and Nioma, the family struggling to survive. She planted the seed of his moving on to someone else, Kaliadra perhaps. What Enmach saw, however, was a man beside himself. She had no blame to place.
"Well, it seems she found some comfort."
"She didn't want to. I pushed her to do so."
There was a moment's shock on Colin's face as he looked over at her, still, Enmach felt no remorse. "You... what?" "I pushed her to seek out Ror when he asked for her to join him on a midnight picnic. I did not disparage her when she found comfort in Gilean's arms, though I advised against such a quick marriage... She needed to move on, Colin."
"But I was back. Sanria and I even found ourselves together... Now I couldn't feel all she felt but..."
"Colin... she remembered everything, even all the hurt you caused her, and you could not. There was no comparison to what she remembered and what you didn't. It is hardly even when that is a consideration. I am sorry it upsets you. But I also saw the pain it caused her being near you."
"So now I get to be the one in pain, is that it?"
"I did not do this with the intention of harming you. In fact, our being together was a way for you to also see you could move on past not remembering."
"So you calculated that?"
"In part. Though I also found joy in it."
"Great," Colin said, and put his head in his hands.
"Why do you insist on seeing it negatively? Did you not enjoy our time together as I did?" Enmach said these words without a twinge of feeling. Her emotions could not be reached. They were not a necessary part to her conversation now.
"Well, yes, but now it just feels like it was at least partially
motivated by pity. Not exactly the best feeling."
"Pity? No. Education. You can still move on, Colin."
"What if I don't want to move on?"
"Then there will be hardships ahead for more than just yourself."
Enmach listened and spoke when appropriate. Colin wanted Sanria back, and from everything Sanria said about him, Colin wasn't one to give up. Not easily, at least. Though she, too, had dealings with Colin, she did not have a stake in his future. She could speak freely - reminding him of Gilean, Matinus, and Nioma, the family struggling to survive. She planted the seed of his moving on to someone else, Kaliadra perhaps. What Enmach saw, however, was a man beside himself. She had no blame to place.
Misplaced Affections
Enmach was in her quarters when the small Rilmani boy knocked on her door. He wore his hair in a bowl cut, something learned from the human children who played beneath the floating island. She nodded, but the boy did not enter. Instead, he looked at her with a knowing smile, much too knowing for a boy. "Colin Stone is here. He's outside by the fountain waiting for you." The last word, "you" was almost singsong, and the boy vanished in a renewed fit of giggles.
Enmach was only slightly unnerved. She cleared her throat and walked to the mirror that hung by the door of her chambers and ventured a look, and a preen, and a... she stopped. What in the world was she doing? She'd told Colin she was not interested in him and she did mean it. Her place was here at the castle in service to Fenlauch, but she'd never had anyone drive her to do what she'd done except Colin. A blush spread over her silver skin and she looked at herself sternly. In service to Fenlauch.
The day was bright as Enmach crossed the castle grounds to meet with Colin. He rose and bowed and his face turned pink and it was clear he felt a bit embarrassed by the memory. "Sir Colin," she spoke.
"Ah, hello Enmach. I was hoping I could talk with you for a bit."
"So I was told. Please, sit."
"So, has Sanria told you? I remember now." He sat.
"She mentioned it in passing. Does it please you that you now recall?"
"Well, yes and no. I felt so badly for not remembering... especially for Orn and Leandra. So I'm much happier remembering them. But with Sanria it's very difficult."
Yes. It was expected as such. The conversation wasn't at all difficult for Enmach. She simply quieted her mind, unhitching any emotion she felt for Colin and leaving it where it sat. She was dutiful before all else, and she knew at that statement that the duty she was to perform was the same she'd performed for eons. Advisor.
Enmach was only slightly unnerved. She cleared her throat and walked to the mirror that hung by the door of her chambers and ventured a look, and a preen, and a... she stopped. What in the world was she doing? She'd told Colin she was not interested in him and she did mean it. Her place was here at the castle in service to Fenlauch, but she'd never had anyone drive her to do what she'd done except Colin. A blush spread over her silver skin and she looked at herself sternly. In service to Fenlauch.
The day was bright as Enmach crossed the castle grounds to meet with Colin. He rose and bowed and his face turned pink and it was clear he felt a bit embarrassed by the memory. "Sir Colin," she spoke.
"Ah, hello Enmach. I was hoping I could talk with you for a bit."
"So I was told. Please, sit."
"So, has Sanria told you? I remember now." He sat.
"She mentioned it in passing. Does it please you that you now recall?"
"Well, yes and no. I felt so badly for not remembering... especially for Orn and Leandra. So I'm much happier remembering them. But with Sanria it's very difficult."
Yes. It was expected as such. The conversation wasn't at all difficult for Enmach. She simply quieted her mind, unhitching any emotion she felt for Colin and leaving it where it sat. She was dutiful before all else, and she knew at that statement that the duty she was to perform was the same she'd performed for eons. Advisor.
High Born Bastard
Ieridenth's chambers were small for his size, but they were his. Unlike the others of the Fallen Fallen who had to sleep and stay in the cavern commons, as leader, he was afforded a small space to call his own. Here, he kept books piled at the side of his desk. He had conjured them all, conjured the paper he used to write his notes, conjured the quill to write with, conjured the ink with which to write. He knew a lot about this place and was adept enough with his blades to fight when needed, magical enough to shatter demons when required. Just not magical enough to figure out the riddles.
He'd found them in places, heavily guarded by demonic sentinels, portals black as the bowels of darkness. He had yet to see any go through them, but he knew that's what they were. He couldn't read the inscribed runes on the sides of the portals, and that was his failing. Just not skilled enough...
He pulled a large tome from the stack of books. This one was different than all the others. This one held all his personal papers. He opened it, dusting the leaves of paper within, ready to add another to his collection. He took a blank sheet and dipped his quill:
By the favor of the old gods and the grace of the new, I knew I wasn't forgotten in the depths of this hell. Into my lap has fallen a gift in the guise of the planeswalker's son. He claims he does not hold his father's gifts, but one cannot traverse planes under the tutelage of one so wizened as Telfenham was rumored to be and not have skill. Whether or not he can use the planes, all I have need of is the trust of this Celestial and then his skill as a wizard in reading the runes that have eluded me for so long. I shall be free in short order. I may not be able to return home, but I shall not be forced to endure this place. Such is my wish. So it shall be.
He dusted this page, drying the ink, and placed it in the tome. It shut with a satisfying "thunk" and he slid it on top of the books. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, with a smug grin. Hell was no place for a Celestial.
He'd found them in places, heavily guarded by demonic sentinels, portals black as the bowels of darkness. He had yet to see any go through them, but he knew that's what they were. He couldn't read the inscribed runes on the sides of the portals, and that was his failing. Just not skilled enough...
He pulled a large tome from the stack of books. This one was different than all the others. This one held all his personal papers. He opened it, dusting the leaves of paper within, ready to add another to his collection. He took a blank sheet and dipped his quill:
By the favor of the old gods and the grace of the new, I knew I wasn't forgotten in the depths of this hell. Into my lap has fallen a gift in the guise of the planeswalker's son. He claims he does not hold his father's gifts, but one cannot traverse planes under the tutelage of one so wizened as Telfenham was rumored to be and not have skill. Whether or not he can use the planes, all I have need of is the trust of this Celestial and then his skill as a wizard in reading the runes that have eluded me for so long. I shall be free in short order. I may not be able to return home, but I shall not be forced to endure this place. Such is my wish. So it shall be.
He dusted this page, drying the ink, and placed it in the tome. It shut with a satisfying "thunk" and he slid it on top of the books. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, with a smug grin. Hell was no place for a Celestial.
The Fallen Fallen
"Ruddy high born, idn'ee?"
"Aye, look at 'is arrogant face. Blimey."
"An his smug look. Right bastard, this one. What ya go an' bring 'im 'ere for, Iree? Shoulda let 'im get skewered."
"Shut up, idiots. He's still got juice left to burn."
"Oy, plannin' on usin 'im up?"
"I plan on bringing him into the fold and maybe getting the hell out of here finally. Longer he stays, though, the less he'll know."
"What makes you think 'e's gonna know anyfin?"
"He's a high born bastard."
----
Velentham's eyes opened slowly, the blazing white of Celestial vision less intense now, though still the figures surrounding him revealed as gray... not quite as bad as the Mezzoloths, but still...
"Where..."
"Easy," said the raspy voice. "You've had quite the tussle. Gurk patched your leg, Fdelph is working the healing, you'll excuse him, he's a novice."
"Like hell, asshole," Fdelph returned in his gruff, aged voice. The raspy voice laughed and looked back. Velentham could see from under the hood the violet eyes that stared back at him. "An Eladrin?"
"Eh, once," came the rasp. "Fallen down the rungs, like you."
"Right Shiere, this 'un."
"Aye, til he took a shinin' to 'is bosses lass and boinked 'er wi' 'is wee stick."
"That's not why I'm here, Gurk."
Gurk let out a snickering laugh. "Oh, aye. It's what started it, though, too right?"
"Where am I?" Velentham asked, feeling a bit stronger. He sat up, still woozy, and looked into the purple eyes. The man pulled back his cowl to reveal slender elf-like features with an unmistakable Celestial twist.
"Underground cave of the Fallen Fallen."
"Is what we call ournselves," Fdelph said, finishing the knot on the rag binding Velentham's leg.
"Fallen Fallen," Velentham repeated.
"Yes. I am Ieridenth Kelearith, Eladrin Shiere, Knight of Norfalt Peren, resident of Arborea. Once resident, anyway."
"And now?"
"Anger got the better of me when Norfalt insulted me for sleeping with his little girl. Though to my credit, she wasn't so little, and she sure wasn't built like a girl."
The laughter of the other castaways filled the cavern and echoed off the rocks, and for the first time, Velentham looked around. He was in a massive rocky room where torches burned against the walls at the sides of magic orbs. Cobbled together furniture lay strewn about, filled with all manner of once higher natured beings in various states of repose. "So, what did you do?" Velentham asked.
"To Norfalt?"
"Yes."
"Gutted him. It wasn't my finest moment." Ieridenth shrugged.
"And who are you?"
"Velentham Arenfeld, Avoral Guardinal, son of Telfenham Arenfeld
of Elysium."
"Ah, the planes traveler's son."
"You've heard of my father?"
"Of course. Let's hope you have some of what he had, eh?"
Ieridenth held out his hand and Velentham took it, shaking it with cautious reserve. "What brings you here?" Ieridenth asked. "Love." And the cavern was once again filled with male laughter.
"Aye, look at 'is arrogant face. Blimey."
"An his smug look. Right bastard, this one. What ya go an' bring 'im 'ere for, Iree? Shoulda let 'im get skewered."
"Shut up, idiots. He's still got juice left to burn."
"Oy, plannin' on usin 'im up?"
"I plan on bringing him into the fold and maybe getting the hell out of here finally. Longer he stays, though, the less he'll know."
"What makes you think 'e's gonna know anyfin?"
"He's a high born bastard."
----
Velentham's eyes opened slowly, the blazing white of Celestial vision less intense now, though still the figures surrounding him revealed as gray... not quite as bad as the Mezzoloths, but still...
"Where..."
"Easy," said the raspy voice. "You've had quite the tussle. Gurk patched your leg, Fdelph is working the healing, you'll excuse him, he's a novice."
"Like hell, asshole," Fdelph returned in his gruff, aged voice. The raspy voice laughed and looked back. Velentham could see from under the hood the violet eyes that stared back at him. "An Eladrin?"
"Eh, once," came the rasp. "Fallen down the rungs, like you."
"Right Shiere, this 'un."
"Aye, til he took a shinin' to 'is bosses lass and boinked 'er wi' 'is wee stick."
"That's not why I'm here, Gurk."
Gurk let out a snickering laugh. "Oh, aye. It's what started it, though, too right?"
"Where am I?" Velentham asked, feeling a bit stronger. He sat up, still woozy, and looked into the purple eyes. The man pulled back his cowl to reveal slender elf-like features with an unmistakable Celestial twist.
"Underground cave of the Fallen Fallen."
"Is what we call ournselves," Fdelph said, finishing the knot on the rag binding Velentham's leg.
"Fallen Fallen," Velentham repeated.
"Yes. I am Ieridenth Kelearith, Eladrin Shiere, Knight of Norfalt Peren, resident of Arborea. Once resident, anyway."
"And now?"
"Anger got the better of me when Norfalt insulted me for sleeping with his little girl. Though to my credit, she wasn't so little, and she sure wasn't built like a girl."
The laughter of the other castaways filled the cavern and echoed off the rocks, and for the first time, Velentham looked around. He was in a massive rocky room where torches burned against the walls at the sides of magic orbs. Cobbled together furniture lay strewn about, filled with all manner of once higher natured beings in various states of repose. "So, what did you do?" Velentham asked.
"To Norfalt?"
"Yes."
"Gutted him. It wasn't my finest moment." Ieridenth shrugged.
"And who are you?"
"Velentham Arenfeld, Avoral Guardinal, son of Telfenham Arenfeld
of Elysium."
"Ah, the planes traveler's son."
"You've heard of my father?"
"Of course. Let's hope you have some of what he had, eh?"
Ieridenth held out his hand and Velentham took it, shaking it with cautious reserve. "What brings you here?" Ieridenth asked. "Love." And the cavern was once again filled with male laughter.
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