The Uktar air was crisp as Emalia walked toward Market Square. She had gotten herself out of the house, again with a white lie about needing to visit clan hall. "I'm going to have to do better than that," she thought. "Really." She took in a deep breath, thinking over her recent life changes, when the sign hanging up on Main Street, well, what was Main Street, caught her attention. "Main Street, Kefkaburg" it read. "What in the world..." Emalia continued on until reaching Market Square.
"Without others to rally to our cause, this may all be for naught..." The man who spoke the words had a golden hue to his skin and a pair of wings that caught Emalia off guard for a moment.
"I am a bit disturbed by this, profound number they seem to yield." This man Emalia knew as Sir Epson, a member of her own clan. Seeing the sign in the center of the square asking for taxes, as well as the renamed streets, Emalia ventured to ask what had been going on. "This is the work of the Vectorians," Epson stated.
Emalia knew very little of the Vectorians, and nothing at all of Kefka, but when Epson spoke of the collection of unborn children in exchange for taxes unpaid - it was all she could bear.
"Has no one begun a resistance?" Emalia asked.
"We have repulsed the attempts to obtain tax money thus far," spoke an Elven man.
"We have been doing what we can," Epson spoke, "Sammian, Khyron, Fflar, and I to stop their little waves here and there."
"I assume you two are Sammian and Khyron?" Emalia asked, looking from the winged man to the elven one. With this correct affirmation, introductions were made shortly before Jayden walked into the square.
A small surge of happiness overcame Emalia as she rushed to the man she called Grandfather, but the conversation that resumed sent Emalia into a bit of a depression. Jayden wanted for prayer and faith to resolve the problems. Epson, Khyron, and Sammian wanted some sort of action - though the more Emalia listened, the less convinced she became that they had a clear idea of exactly what to do. In fact, the more she listened to the conversation and the immortal power held by Kefka and the ruthlessness of both he and his followers, the less Emalia felt there was anything to be done.
"Perhaps... we should just pay them... perhaps if we just pool together money, they'll leave," Emalia suggested.
"That is not an option! They will return for more and more," Epson retorted.
"Hmm," Sammian began, "Faith, might provide the resolution we need to calm the masses."
Again with faith, thought Emalia. Faith obviously would not be enough for this wild man. "Sir Epson... what other option do we have? If we don't, have they not threatened to kill? Platinum is nothing compared to life."
"Give an inch and they will take a foot, Emalia. It's what they desire. You cannot honestly think they will stop once they are paid? Because I know differently."
"I would prefer death to life under the rule of that tyrant," Khyron said.
Emalia sat quietly, her mind ticking as the others spoke. She would not allow anyone to take her unborn child, nor would she allow anyone to harm those she cared for. She had heard Jayden's words on faith, prayer, and meditation - but she also knew from her own travels that faith, prayer, and meditation wouldn't stop an orc from slaying you if given the chance, nor stop the RoK in the sky. It was this thought that made her think of Grobnak, and the spies that once had followed her. She thought of the murders that had been committed by necessity, and it dawned on her that this was necessity. "I suppose, then, there will have to be death to prevent death. Perhaps... done in a subversive manner."
To speak of such a thing was unnerving to Emalia, but the knowledge of her child being in danger from a mad man, the knowledge of her family - both Jihad and Guardian - being subject to such torments had driven her to consider darker measures. "I could speak to Grobnak, he has many that engage in such... actions." Emalia lowered her head, detesting the fact she could even speak such words. "If they are assassinated... they can't lead... right?"
"We have no need to turn to Jihad," Khyron objected.
"I am of Jihad," Emalia answered softly. "Besides, something must be done. I am not one to wish death for any, but if we have nothing else but to wait on these vultures to pick off everyone around us, what other choice is there? The God's won't fight our petty battles for us. History is evidence of that."
"Why bother fighting Vector when the city would be destroyed by the RoK anyway?" said Khyron.
"Because, Sir Khyron," Emalia spoke calmly, "that will not bring about the rebirth of the Apprentice."
"Though we may not see eye to eye in terms of faith, we are all threatened by this tyranny," Sammian said.
"At any rate, if the Jihad become involved to stop Kefka... would you refuse the aid?" Emalia asked.
"Nay," said Sammian, "we need all the assistance we can muster."
It was settled in Emalia's mind. She would go to the compound and find Grobnak. She'd face him and talk to him and attempt to get the Jihad to help quell the Vectorian forces. The remaining group scattered at the spotting of a Vectorian Bomb, and Emalia cast a spell, landing her at the Compound gates.
She rushed to the chapel and down the stairs, but as she ran, something slowed her down. On her way to Grobnak's office were tapestries and portraits. Jenova's history was here, as well as some of the snarling and smiling faces of Jihad past and present. For reasons unknown they slowed her, but still, she walked on.
Knocking on Grobnak's door met her with no answer. She cracked the door and looked inside. No one. Though she had been in the room other times, she had not really noticed the tapestries that hung here, too. Jenovese and Talosians fighting battles and destroying their opposition. Quickly, Emalia reached into her pack and pulled forth a book given her long ago by Grobnak. She thumbed through a few of the pages until her eyes rested on a passage that read:
"The Vectorian Empire:
Though their bigotry toward espers is despicable, this empire seems the most likely resource to grant us the technology we need to overcome our foes. Convert them when you can. Destroy only those you must. Treat themas you would an ally, but never turn your back on them,or you will discover their treacherous ways."
Emalia slowly closed her book and sat heavily in the chair in Grobnak's office. She leaned her head on the back of the seat and looked upward to the ceiling and closed her eyes. She suddenly had the answer to any Jihad rising up against the Vectorians... and the book held the clearest warning she had regarding this takeover. For the first time, Emalia was afraid. For the first time, she saw just how opposing her loyalties were. For the millionth time, she found herself wondering... "What now?"
When the truth hurts
Emalia had been successful for the better part of a week – keeping Colin in the dark about her pregnancy. It truly did make her feel terrible, knowing that she was keeping a secret about something that deeply involved him - but until she could handle the situation, it would be as it was. "As it was" meant making up false alarms or meetings that took her to Clan Hall, and since he was not yet a Guardian, this afforded her the chance to keep away from him.
Today, however, Colin's pleading face rather caught her off guard. She agreed to take some time off and gingerly sat herself on the couch. "What, ah, did you have in mind?" she asked, almost hoping it would get her free of the dangerous obligation
of being near Colin.
"Well, I don't know. I guess I hadn't exactly planned anything."
"Ah," Emalia replied. Here was her chance to -
"Speaking of planning," Colin interrupted, "had you thought any about a wedding?"
Emalia suddenly found herself stuttering and stumbling over her words. She was not going to be able to evade the question - nor the inevitable outing she would be taking to select a location. Using her magic, she brought them both to Candlekeep, and the path of Roses and Talendars. "Do you like this place or shall we look at some others?" Colin asked, his eyes taken with the beauty of the scene.
"I don't know that I can do this."
"I'm sorry, are you not feeling well?"
"No... no... I mean getting married." And there it was.
"Oh. You... you don't feel ready?"
"I don't believe I am in... in love with you... the way you are with me, and it's not very fair to you to continue on in this way. I'm so sorry Colin. I don't really know what to say. I'm ashamed I hadn't the courage before now to tell you."
The silence was almost as heavy as Emalia's shame. Colin's face was set in a sad yet angry stare directed to the flowers. "I don't know what to do, Emalia. I don't know how to be any more for you."
"It's not anything you can do, Colin. The problem is with me, I accept that."
"I just don't understand, Emalia. I can be your friend, your lover, do everything for you, give everything I have to give yet it still-"
"It isn't a matter of needing more, Colin." Emalia knew she would have to tell him the truth in her heart, no matter the ache it might cause him. "I've just not really ever been able to see you beyond the role of a friend. I've tried... God's know I've tried. I've attempted every night you've been in my bed to see you as my lover, my mate, but... I can't."
"But why, Emalia? What is it? Why can't you tell me?"
"Because... I... don't know."
Colin's sigh crushed Emalia even more, making her feel only inches tall. At this moment, she hated herself. She could only bear to look at the ground because she stood on it. She could barely believe herself, 'I don't know... what a coward,' she thought. "I don't know what to do, Emalia," Colin sighed. "I love you with all my heart. I want nothing more than to be able to spend my life with you. I can give you everything. Love, caring, devotion... hell, probably even a family."
The tail of Colin's sentence dangled precariously in the air. Emalia had had enough of her own cowardice. She had enough of fearing herself and lying. Come what may, she had to let everything out for healing to happen. "Well, about that... I haven't exactly come clean with something I've known about for near a week now."
"What Emalia. What is it?"
"I should simply say, you are capable of creating a family."
Emalia could not see the expression on Colin's face. Indeed, she had turned her back to him. While she could not see, she could hear the stunned emotion in his next question:
"Wait, Emalia... what exactly are you saying?" His hand fell on her shoulder.
"Emalia, you're pregnant?" And Emalia simply nodded.
Only once Colin had turned her to him, could Emalia see how desperately he was quelling the joy within himself. The worry that hung in its place caused Emalia again to lower her eyes in shame. "But... that's a good thing," Colin ventured.
"I mean, a child, a brand new life, one of our own."
"It is a child made of the two of us - yes," Emalia answered. "I have wanted to be a mother, too, but..."
"But not with me."
"Not if I didn't love you as I should, Colin. But that is something I can't change."
"I'm sorry I caused you this burden," Colin spoke.
"No matter what happens between us, I *will* love this child. And I wouldn't in a million years think of keeping you from it, either."
It was in that statement that Emalia saw the sudden change. Colin's eyes opened, and from his stooped position before her, he looked into her eyes, his own pleading. "Emalia, look, you don't have to love me. I do want to be part of our child's life, and your life. Who knows, perhaps in time..."
Emalia realized her mistake... or was it? Did he not have the right to know? Her head was spinning as Colin continued. "Emalia, I can't be without you... especially now that we share this. Don't you feel any attachment to me?"
"Of course I do... we have a child together, but it doesn't fix everything, Colin. It is why I had said nothing yet."
"I know it doesn't, but doesn't it give cause to try?"
"But... I've been trying."
"It's that bad, is it?" Colin replied, hanging his head.
The pillar of self-reliant resolve that was Emalia now crumbled. Inside, her guilt and shame had gotten the better of her. Colin hadn't gotten the opportunity to try, who was to say it might not be different? Who was to say that now there was not something more important than she and her own thoughts? Thus did she give way, though still with little hope. She would once again try, but in a new capacity - expectant mother.
The father of her child, embracing her with the news, lifted her off the ground. "A baby," he said. "I can't believe it."
"Nor can I," Emalia said, allowing herself a little laughter.'We will try,' she thought. 'Heavens and all above, please help me. Please, just help me.' They walked arm in arm, off to celebrate. Finding nothing suitable in town, they headed home for Colin's stew... a family precariously in the making.
Today, however, Colin's pleading face rather caught her off guard. She agreed to take some time off and gingerly sat herself on the couch. "What, ah, did you have in mind?" she asked, almost hoping it would get her free of the dangerous obligation
of being near Colin.
"Well, I don't know. I guess I hadn't exactly planned anything."
"Ah," Emalia replied. Here was her chance to -
"Speaking of planning," Colin interrupted, "had you thought any about a wedding?"
Emalia suddenly found herself stuttering and stumbling over her words. She was not going to be able to evade the question - nor the inevitable outing she would be taking to select a location. Using her magic, she brought them both to Candlekeep, and the path of Roses and Talendars. "Do you like this place or shall we look at some others?" Colin asked, his eyes taken with the beauty of the scene.
"I don't know that I can do this."
"I'm sorry, are you not feeling well?"
"No... no... I mean getting married." And there it was.
"Oh. You... you don't feel ready?"
"I don't believe I am in... in love with you... the way you are with me, and it's not very fair to you to continue on in this way. I'm so sorry Colin. I don't really know what to say. I'm ashamed I hadn't the courage before now to tell you."
The silence was almost as heavy as Emalia's shame. Colin's face was set in a sad yet angry stare directed to the flowers. "I don't know what to do, Emalia. I don't know how to be any more for you."
"It's not anything you can do, Colin. The problem is with me, I accept that."
"I just don't understand, Emalia. I can be your friend, your lover, do everything for you, give everything I have to give yet it still-"
"It isn't a matter of needing more, Colin." Emalia knew she would have to tell him the truth in her heart, no matter the ache it might cause him. "I've just not really ever been able to see you beyond the role of a friend. I've tried... God's know I've tried. I've attempted every night you've been in my bed to see you as my lover, my mate, but... I can't."
"But why, Emalia? What is it? Why can't you tell me?"
"Because... I... don't know."
Colin's sigh crushed Emalia even more, making her feel only inches tall. At this moment, she hated herself. She could only bear to look at the ground because she stood on it. She could barely believe herself, 'I don't know... what a coward,' she thought. "I don't know what to do, Emalia," Colin sighed. "I love you with all my heart. I want nothing more than to be able to spend my life with you. I can give you everything. Love, caring, devotion... hell, probably even a family."
The tail of Colin's sentence dangled precariously in the air. Emalia had had enough of her own cowardice. She had enough of fearing herself and lying. Come what may, she had to let everything out for healing to happen. "Well, about that... I haven't exactly come clean with something I've known about for near a week now."
"What Emalia. What is it?"
"I should simply say, you are capable of creating a family."
Emalia could not see the expression on Colin's face. Indeed, she had turned her back to him. While she could not see, she could hear the stunned emotion in his next question:
"Wait, Emalia... what exactly are you saying?" His hand fell on her shoulder.
"Emalia, you're pregnant?" And Emalia simply nodded.
Only once Colin had turned her to him, could Emalia see how desperately he was quelling the joy within himself. The worry that hung in its place caused Emalia again to lower her eyes in shame. "But... that's a good thing," Colin ventured.
"I mean, a child, a brand new life, one of our own."
"It is a child made of the two of us - yes," Emalia answered. "I have wanted to be a mother, too, but..."
"But not with me."
"Not if I didn't love you as I should, Colin. But that is something I can't change."
"I'm sorry I caused you this burden," Colin spoke.
"No matter what happens between us, I *will* love this child. And I wouldn't in a million years think of keeping you from it, either."
It was in that statement that Emalia saw the sudden change. Colin's eyes opened, and from his stooped position before her, he looked into her eyes, his own pleading. "Emalia, look, you don't have to love me. I do want to be part of our child's life, and your life. Who knows, perhaps in time..."
Emalia realized her mistake... or was it? Did he not have the right to know? Her head was spinning as Colin continued. "Emalia, I can't be without you... especially now that we share this. Don't you feel any attachment to me?"
"Of course I do... we have a child together, but it doesn't fix everything, Colin. It is why I had said nothing yet."
"I know it doesn't, but doesn't it give cause to try?"
"But... I've been trying."
"It's that bad, is it?" Colin replied, hanging his head.
The pillar of self-reliant resolve that was Emalia now crumbled. Inside, her guilt and shame had gotten the better of her. Colin hadn't gotten the opportunity to try, who was to say it might not be different? Who was to say that now there was not something more important than she and her own thoughts? Thus did she give way, though still with little hope. She would once again try, but in a new capacity - expectant mother.
The father of her child, embracing her with the news, lifted her off the ground. "A baby," he said. "I can't believe it."
"Nor can I," Emalia said, allowing herself a little laughter.'We will try,' she thought. 'Heavens and all above, please help me. Please, just help me.' They walked arm in arm, off to celebrate. Finding nothing suitable in town, they headed home for Colin's stew... a family precariously in the making.
Dawnbringer
Emalia knew it right when it happened. When someone partially constructed of lifeforce is suddenly embued with more life, the sensation is immediate: all the power felt from before is slightly stronger life running through the veins is duplicative. Already, the life energy that will become "child" is wound in delicate balance with that of its mother, each now dependent on one another for the progression of life and of generations. Emalia had become more by sheer merit of what she was -she was no longer just herself, she was simply more. By virtue of her ability, her lifeforce could now be felt plumbing the depths of every single living thing that shared it. She had given live to Colin; brought back what death had once taken, shifted the antithetical unshiftable tandem of order, restarted once more that which was stilled by death's touch. She had been a conduit for life, and that being who supped at her banquet had helped bring into existence something - someone – completely new... part of her, part of him, entirely of life.
She rolled over, staring at the man who now slept by her side, and wept. Her tears were not those of joy, but those roused by the knowledge that she was going to bring a child into the world sired by a man whom she did not love. No matter how hard she tried. She could see him as a friend, even as a friend she could sleep with, but as a lover, a confidant, a husband... a father... she could not. It was not an issue of there being anyone else - she did not love another. The truth was that he was not natural - though this she still had yet to determine with accuracy. Since they had begun their relationship, he was dead, now he was not, but then who was he? These questions she did not ask - though their coming was being heralded by the confusion that surrounded the paradox. For this moment in time, Emalia only knew that she didn't know. Why could she not fall in love with Colin?
Emalia's thoughts then shifted to Nephesh. She had not seen the boy since her encounter with Grobnak. She'd had no contact with either of them and she began to wonder about the boy she secretly held as her own son. She knew she would have to arrange to see him soon. After all, baby or none, Emalia still had a mission to see through to completion. Not even a child would stop her from seeking the Balefire Mountains.
Colin's movement brought her back to the moment and the changes already taking place in her body. There was one thing this child would do, and that would be to prevent her from leaving. If Colin knew... and then the thought hit her in the dark of her room; he wouldn't know. She slid her hand to her still flat stomach and took a deep breath. Once she had talked to him and broken off their engagement she would tell him. He would be welcome into the child's life and she would not have to pretend. She would just have to be certain to keep busy until working up the nerve to tell him - about both things.
She rolled over, staring at the man who now slept by her side, and wept. Her tears were not those of joy, but those roused by the knowledge that she was going to bring a child into the world sired by a man whom she did not love. No matter how hard she tried. She could see him as a friend, even as a friend she could sleep with, but as a lover, a confidant, a husband... a father... she could not. It was not an issue of there being anyone else - she did not love another. The truth was that he was not natural - though this she still had yet to determine with accuracy. Since they had begun their relationship, he was dead, now he was not, but then who was he? These questions she did not ask - though their coming was being heralded by the confusion that surrounded the paradox. For this moment in time, Emalia only knew that she didn't know. Why could she not fall in love with Colin?
Emalia's thoughts then shifted to Nephesh. She had not seen the boy since her encounter with Grobnak. She'd had no contact with either of them and she began to wonder about the boy she secretly held as her own son. She knew she would have to arrange to see him soon. After all, baby or none, Emalia still had a mission to see through to completion. Not even a child would stop her from seeking the Balefire Mountains.
Colin's movement brought her back to the moment and the changes already taking place in her body. There was one thing this child would do, and that would be to prevent her from leaving. If Colin knew... and then the thought hit her in the dark of her room; he wouldn't know. She slid her hand to her still flat stomach and took a deep breath. Once she had talked to him and broken off their engagement she would tell him. He would be welcome into the child's life and she would not have to pretend. She would just have to be certain to keep busy until working up the nerve to tell him - about both things.
Practice Session
The deep, clear chime of the Torregiano clock tower bell rang through the relative stillness of the crisp, cool night air, marking the midnight hour for all to hear. Torregiano was a city that never really slept, and not simply due to a criminal element, either; because of the proximity of the Tripower Tower, these streets always had guards patrolling, and the makou gas lamps dispelled many of the deeper shadows, making it difficult to remain hidden.
The perfect challenge, thought Tarran to himself as he takes advantage of the guards' momentary distraction to duck into another shadowed alley. Luck, he thought to himself.. they didn't notice. Dressed all in loose-fitting black clothing, the dark-haired young man blended in nearly seamlessly with the darkness about, granting him a moment's respite. He wasn't actually trying to steal anything tonight; this was just a practice run. Even if he were caught, there was nothing they could charge him with... this time. Not that it was likely; Tarran was very good at what he did, partly because he was always practicing, and partly because he was simply lucky.
Luck had always been with Tarran. He couldn't explain why, exactly, although his stepfather had mentioned once that it was a strange side-effect of the clash between light and darkness within him. Circumstances surrounding Tarran's birth had been odd, but what exactly had happened he didn't really know. What he did know was that the good fortune had saved him more than once; while not infallible, it was reliable enough that he'd come to depend on it in certain situations. Like tonight.
With a smooth underhand motion, Tarran casually tosses a few pebbles towards the other side of the street; the momentary clatter is enough to cause the guard to look the other way. With a single smooth motion, Tarran grasps the windowsill set into the stone of the building he pressed against; planting both feet on the sill, it was a simple matter to reach up for the edge of the roof and swing himself up. Quickly, he ducks down, laying flat on the roof just as the guard turns away from the alley he'd been investigating. Perfect, he thought to himself. Even here the guards tended not to look up. If only his mother could see him now, the young thief mused.
His mother. Now there was an interesting puzzle. It had been a few days now since she had supposedly left on her fool journey north to find the man named Throm. It was unusual for her; Sanria wasn't much of a traveler. Of course, for most of Tarran's life she'd been in a state of severe depression... maybe this wasn't that unusual for her. Leaving without any supplies, maps, or a plan, though... that was oddly typical. It was a recipe for disaster; and of course, he couldn't have gone with her to make sure she stayed in line. He had business to attend to here... not to mention, local Westbridge authorities were still after him about that misunderstanding at the Huntington estate... There was nothing to be worried about, though. He'd taken steps to ensure Sanria's safety (and, of course, his own amusement). She'd thank him later for it... probably.
It was time to get moving. Smoothly, Tarran rises to his feet, running nearly silently over the roof of the building. Fortunately for him, the shops in this district were packed in tightly; it took little effort to leap from one rooftop to the next. Moving silently was the key here; guards wouldn't be watching for him, but they would be listening, and a telltale scrape of his leather-soled shoes against stone could alert them. He didn't care to be shot at tonight, particularly since his stepfather was away...
Tarran had found an unlikely ally in his estranged stepfather, Thasmudyan. The life of a professional thief was a dangerous one, and despite his luck Tarran did occasionally find himself on the losing end of a fight (though he'd never actually admit it). Because of this, he had acquired a healthy respect for anyone with healing talents... and his stepfather, who had dedicated his life (this one, at least) to those talents, in particular. He'd even come back from the dead to do it... or perhaps to aggravate Sanria, at least to hear her tell it. Whatever his reasons for coming back to life, one thing was certain; while he'd gotten older, he'd also gotten a heck of a lot more powerful. He'd be able to protect Sanria, if nothing else. And fortunately for Tarran, Thasmudyan didn't appear to hold on to any of his old loyalties with the Order of Judgement and the Tripower.
What he did hold on to, also fortunately, was a desire to protect Sanria. As such, when Tarran had showed up and explained the situation, it didn't take a lot of convincing to get the old man to go after her. Oh sure, he'd tried to affect that weird 'don't care' mannerism of his, but it wasn't fooling Tarran any. So now the both of them were off to the frozen north... leaving the young thief to his own devices. Which was how he preferred it, after all.
"Hey! You there! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Damnit, Tarran thought to himself as he started running, ducking quickly as a crossbow bolt whizzed through the air, just missing him. One of the bastards must have looked up. Oh well, time to get out of here... practice session was over.
The perfect challenge, thought Tarran to himself as he takes advantage of the guards' momentary distraction to duck into another shadowed alley. Luck, he thought to himself.. they didn't notice. Dressed all in loose-fitting black clothing, the dark-haired young man blended in nearly seamlessly with the darkness about, granting him a moment's respite. He wasn't actually trying to steal anything tonight; this was just a practice run. Even if he were caught, there was nothing they could charge him with... this time. Not that it was likely; Tarran was very good at what he did, partly because he was always practicing, and partly because he was simply lucky.
Luck had always been with Tarran. He couldn't explain why, exactly, although his stepfather had mentioned once that it was a strange side-effect of the clash between light and darkness within him. Circumstances surrounding Tarran's birth had been odd, but what exactly had happened he didn't really know. What he did know was that the good fortune had saved him more than once; while not infallible, it was reliable enough that he'd come to depend on it in certain situations. Like tonight.
With a smooth underhand motion, Tarran casually tosses a few pebbles towards the other side of the street; the momentary clatter is enough to cause the guard to look the other way. With a single smooth motion, Tarran grasps the windowsill set into the stone of the building he pressed against; planting both feet on the sill, it was a simple matter to reach up for the edge of the roof and swing himself up. Quickly, he ducks down, laying flat on the roof just as the guard turns away from the alley he'd been investigating. Perfect, he thought to himself. Even here the guards tended not to look up. If only his mother could see him now, the young thief mused.
His mother. Now there was an interesting puzzle. It had been a few days now since she had supposedly left on her fool journey north to find the man named Throm. It was unusual for her; Sanria wasn't much of a traveler. Of course, for most of Tarran's life she'd been in a state of severe depression... maybe this wasn't that unusual for her. Leaving without any supplies, maps, or a plan, though... that was oddly typical. It was a recipe for disaster; and of course, he couldn't have gone with her to make sure she stayed in line. He had business to attend to here... not to mention, local Westbridge authorities were still after him about that misunderstanding at the Huntington estate... There was nothing to be worried about, though. He'd taken steps to ensure Sanria's safety (and, of course, his own amusement). She'd thank him later for it... probably.
It was time to get moving. Smoothly, Tarran rises to his feet, running nearly silently over the roof of the building. Fortunately for him, the shops in this district were packed in tightly; it took little effort to leap from one rooftop to the next. Moving silently was the key here; guards wouldn't be watching for him, but they would be listening, and a telltale scrape of his leather-soled shoes against stone could alert them. He didn't care to be shot at tonight, particularly since his stepfather was away...
Tarran had found an unlikely ally in his estranged stepfather, Thasmudyan. The life of a professional thief was a dangerous one, and despite his luck Tarran did occasionally find himself on the losing end of a fight (though he'd never actually admit it). Because of this, he had acquired a healthy respect for anyone with healing talents... and his stepfather, who had dedicated his life (this one, at least) to those talents, in particular. He'd even come back from the dead to do it... or perhaps to aggravate Sanria, at least to hear her tell it. Whatever his reasons for coming back to life, one thing was certain; while he'd gotten older, he'd also gotten a heck of a lot more powerful. He'd be able to protect Sanria, if nothing else. And fortunately for Tarran, Thasmudyan didn't appear to hold on to any of his old loyalties with the Order of Judgement and the Tripower.
What he did hold on to, also fortunately, was a desire to protect Sanria. As such, when Tarran had showed up and explained the situation, it didn't take a lot of convincing to get the old man to go after her. Oh sure, he'd tried to affect that weird 'don't care' mannerism of his, but it wasn't fooling Tarran any. So now the both of them were off to the frozen north... leaving the young thief to his own devices. Which was how he preferred it, after all.
"Hey! You there! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Damnit, Tarran thought to himself as he started running, ducking quickly as a crossbow bolt whizzed through the air, just missing him. One of the bastards must have looked up. Oh well, time to get out of here... practice session was over.
Now Boarding
Sanria didn't know what she wanted to feel, and the truth was that she didn't have the ability to choose regardless. The man across the table from her had made her leave her first husband, had made her insane for a good portion of her life, and had broken her heart to the point she didn't know if it would have ever been repaired. She had questions, quips, jabs, stabs, and words ready to murder - but for some reason, the worst of them couldn't find their way out.
Tarran had gone to Thasmudyan and told him of Sanria's trip and apparently, made it painfully obvious that she wasn't quite prepared. It burned Sanria, knowing that her son would have gone to Thasmudyan right as she was seeking Throm. It irritated her also that the man who she hadn't seen since he walked out would come to offer his help in finding her lover.
"No. Absolutely not. You shouldn't be concerned. I don't know why you would be now, anyway. I don't need your help, Thasmudyan."
"I understand you are undertaking this journey with very little preparation."
"It's none of your concern. You gave up that right when you walked out my door."
"Your safety is my concern if I wish it to be so. I would think that would be my decision to make, no?"
"If you want, I can't stop you. But who I take with me is my affair, and you'll not find yourself aboard my ship. Don't think for a minute I'm bringing you. You can walk or whatever it is you do... but you're not setting foot on my ship.”
Sanria sat, stinging at him with her words and he attempting to explain his side of what happened - admitting that along with the need that drove him to seek information, he had not done "right" by her.
The two parted, and Sanria headed back to her ship, the facade of ferocity crumbling. She hung her head and openly sobbed her way back to the Tarmack. Standing, waiting for the elevator to descend, the most familiar sense of calm reached out to her. She turned fully, now, to look at Thasmudyan. Now, she cared not if he saw her tears. "Yes?" she asked in a sob.
"Forgive me... but... I can't help but still be concerned. If something happens to you..." She knew, regardless of what she said, she had no other argument she could give. "Why make this harder?"
"...You have the right to refuse my help... Still, I... and Tarran, and Emalia... would rest more easily at least knowing you were well prepared for this."
"You say you know why I'm leaving... do you know that I'm going after him in part to find out if he's leaving me too?"
Thasmudyan bowed his head as he responded, "It's not really my business... but, no, I didn't know that."
"Well now you do... I have the best luck... three..."
Sanria's thoughts rolled over her relationships and every glaring mistake she felt she made in them. The elevator ride ended and Sanria lead the walk to the gangplank. The worker was no longer there, a fact that gave her some relief since she hadn't bothered to make a stop at the bank. The crew were all either inside the ship, or about the city, leaving the door locked. She resolved in that moment to allow him to help, and unlocking the hatch, she invited him aboard.
They headed to the viewing bubble and sat in the seats there. Sanria's tears were gone, and she sat looking out of the glass, with the knowledge that beside her sat a man she had wondered about for years. It was then, she realized, he was no longer her husband. He was no longer her lover. He was a man who wanted to help for the sake of himself, their child, and her son. The truth was that though she felt for him, their time had passed. A healer, she thought, might be of use in case anything happened.
"You can sleep in the crew’s quarters on the first floor. I'm sure we can arrange for a comfortable bed of your size. The galley is right across the hall, so if you're hungry, you can find food in there also. There is a study aboard, as well, which you are free to use if you desire. We'll be leaving as soon as Remus calls me."
Sanria took a long moment, looking over her past. It would be difficult, but her focus could now be strengthened. Thasmudyan would help her find Throm. From there, she would find out where her life was really headed.
Tarran had gone to Thasmudyan and told him of Sanria's trip and apparently, made it painfully obvious that she wasn't quite prepared. It burned Sanria, knowing that her son would have gone to Thasmudyan right as she was seeking Throm. It irritated her also that the man who she hadn't seen since he walked out would come to offer his help in finding her lover.
"No. Absolutely not. You shouldn't be concerned. I don't know why you would be now, anyway. I don't need your help, Thasmudyan."
"I understand you are undertaking this journey with very little preparation."
"It's none of your concern. You gave up that right when you walked out my door."
"Your safety is my concern if I wish it to be so. I would think that would be my decision to make, no?"
"If you want, I can't stop you. But who I take with me is my affair, and you'll not find yourself aboard my ship. Don't think for a minute I'm bringing you. You can walk or whatever it is you do... but you're not setting foot on my ship.”
Sanria sat, stinging at him with her words and he attempting to explain his side of what happened - admitting that along with the need that drove him to seek information, he had not done "right" by her.
The two parted, and Sanria headed back to her ship, the facade of ferocity crumbling. She hung her head and openly sobbed her way back to the Tarmack. Standing, waiting for the elevator to descend, the most familiar sense of calm reached out to her. She turned fully, now, to look at Thasmudyan. Now, she cared not if he saw her tears. "Yes?" she asked in a sob.
"Forgive me... but... I can't help but still be concerned. If something happens to you..." She knew, regardless of what she said, she had no other argument she could give. "Why make this harder?"
"...You have the right to refuse my help... Still, I... and Tarran, and Emalia... would rest more easily at least knowing you were well prepared for this."
"You say you know why I'm leaving... do you know that I'm going after him in part to find out if he's leaving me too?"
Thasmudyan bowed his head as he responded, "It's not really my business... but, no, I didn't know that."
"Well now you do... I have the best luck... three..."
Sanria's thoughts rolled over her relationships and every glaring mistake she felt she made in them. The elevator ride ended and Sanria lead the walk to the gangplank. The worker was no longer there, a fact that gave her some relief since she hadn't bothered to make a stop at the bank. The crew were all either inside the ship, or about the city, leaving the door locked. She resolved in that moment to allow him to help, and unlocking the hatch, she invited him aboard.
They headed to the viewing bubble and sat in the seats there. Sanria's tears were gone, and she sat looking out of the glass, with the knowledge that beside her sat a man she had wondered about for years. It was then, she realized, he was no longer her husband. He was no longer her lover. He was a man who wanted to help for the sake of himself, their child, and her son. The truth was that though she felt for him, their time had passed. A healer, she thought, might be of use in case anything happened.
"You can sleep in the crew’s quarters on the first floor. I'm sure we can arrange for a comfortable bed of your size. The galley is right across the hall, so if you're hungry, you can find food in there also. There is a study aboard, as well, which you are free to use if you desire. We'll be leaving as soon as Remus calls me."
Sanria took a long moment, looking over her past. It would be difficult, but her focus could now be strengthened. Thasmudyan would help her find Throm. From there, she would find out where her life was really headed.
Sub-ether Jump
The day broke and Sanria found herself making preparations. It didn't need to be seen whether Remus had left. It appeared from the very way he spoke he was a man of his word. So, she had packed several robes (none that would aid against the cold, for, like her daughter, preparation was not the strongest of her suits), and sat at her table drawing up maps and hits of food. She was so engrossed in her worthless activity that she failed to hear Tarran before the boy spoke - and that nearly sent her leaping from her skin.
Sanria was accustomed to her son simply coming and going as he pleased. She thought of him more and more like a tom cat - wandering at will, staying where the staying was good, and always returning home with the intention of filling up the rest of his stomach when the canary wasn't enough. This, however, was different. Tarran still spoke with his step-father on occassion, and it didn't sit well with Sanria to have him know about Throm, yet. Still, it didn't take much for Tarran's questions to bring out the truth about her trip - nor to prove to her son as she left the house forgetting all her notes - that she was very ill prepared.
The night she spoke with Remus she had sent out a call to her gnome crew. As she stepped onto the ship, they were already present - calibrating the engines, fueling, and making ready for the short, sub-ether jump to Torregiano. She stepped aboard, greeting the first mate with a clap on his tiny shoulder. "Are we all set to go, Skive?"
"Indeed. I'll call all to positions and you can give the orders."
Skive pulled out a step-ladder as Sanria took her seat in the Captain's chair. He pulled down an instrument that looked like a cone attached to a tube. "All hands to stations - prepare for sub-ether jump."
"Thank you, Skive," Sanria said as she checked over the console. All gauges were within appropriate limits and she flipped the switches on her chair to begin warming up the engines. "Calibrations."
"Calibrations?" Skive called into the cone.
"Point zero seven one. Within limits. Ready," returned the tinny voice.
"Alright, places for teleport to Torregiano."
"Places!"
Skive had only enough time to seat himself before Sanria placed the coordinates and sent the ship into a burst of white light. In a matter of seconds, the ship sat at the Torregiano beacon. Sanria piloted the ship down to the tarmack and worried about the heavy traffic and the "NO PARKING" signs. She drove the ship to the south-west tower. Several of the gnome crew lept out to secure the ship as did Sanria, though more for breakfast than anything.
Once she had eaten, she returned to the ship to wait for Remus. She had heard nothing from him yet, but to contact him through the crystal might have proved bad for him. Attempting to get hidden armor might be a sight more difficult with a noisy crystal requesting your location.
So the day passed and Sanria took her evening meal with the crew in the galley. She had a deep respect for the gnomes - though they all looked like children playing dress-up - they were brilliant and fearless. Skive saluted briefly as she left the galley and went to her quarters. Perhaps tomorrow she would again go into the city and buy supplies. Thus the night passed into the dawn of the next day.
"Captain."
Sanria rose from her bed, her body sluggish, her eyes full of sleep. "Yes? Enter."
Tedge, one of the hands, walked into the room. His voice was small and high-pitched, but he still managed an air of serious urgency. "First Mate Skive, he's having it out with the dock workers. We weren't s'posed to be overnight."
"Thank you, I'm on my way."
It was a sight, a being barely three feet tall toe-to-toe with a man nearly seven. The worker was very skinny, with a blaze of red hair and a moustache to match. He spoke rapidly and with the irritated manner of one who has seen the rules broken before.
"I don't care what you meant to do. This is temporary parking only and you will have to pay up."
"Maybe if you had a sign bigger than me saying that, we'd pay."
"Look bud, you're lucky I don't punt you offa here."
"Punt me? You giant ogre. You smell like piss from down here. I don't care how much you threaten-"
"Skive, I heard we have a problem."
"Aye, Captain."
"Captain?" the dock hand chimed incredulously. "You pilot of this vessel?"
"Captain, yes," Sanria corrected.
"Whatever. Look. There's the sign. That's a 200 platinum offence. Plus interest with your lap dog yappin' at me. You don't fork over 250, you're getting towed."
"You swine..." Skive growled.
"It's alright. We broke the rules." Sanria turned her attention to the tall man.
"What say you 225? That way, I don't have to mention to anyone about corruption up here."
"230."
"Fair enough." Sanria pulled out a slip of paper, writing the figure onto it. "You can lock the ship to the dock until I return. I don't carry that much on me."
"I'll just keep my eyes open," the man muttered, taking the slip of paper.
"Skive, I'm off to breakfast."
"Aye."
"Watch the ship."
Sanria walked the gangplank, turning her back on the nodding gnome who appeared unfinished with the giant redhead. It wasn't far to the Sunflower Cafe, and Sanria was excited to again enjoy their breakfast special.
Her order arrived and eagerly she ate. She had almost finished when a face appeared that nearly made her drop her fork. She couldn't get the waiter's attention quick enough, nor could she turn away fast enough. Her stomach was knotted immediately, and it froze as soon as she heard the words, "Hello, Sanria."
Steeling herself, she turned back around and looked up into Thasmudyan's face. Of all the times he could have chosen to appear - it had to be when she was - again - in doubt. With a slight nod, she answered simply: "Hello."
Sanria was accustomed to her son simply coming and going as he pleased. She thought of him more and more like a tom cat - wandering at will, staying where the staying was good, and always returning home with the intention of filling up the rest of his stomach when the canary wasn't enough. This, however, was different. Tarran still spoke with his step-father on occassion, and it didn't sit well with Sanria to have him know about Throm, yet. Still, it didn't take much for Tarran's questions to bring out the truth about her trip - nor to prove to her son as she left the house forgetting all her notes - that she was very ill prepared.
The night she spoke with Remus she had sent out a call to her gnome crew. As she stepped onto the ship, they were already present - calibrating the engines, fueling, and making ready for the short, sub-ether jump to Torregiano. She stepped aboard, greeting the first mate with a clap on his tiny shoulder. "Are we all set to go, Skive?"
"Indeed. I'll call all to positions and you can give the orders."
Skive pulled out a step-ladder as Sanria took her seat in the Captain's chair. He pulled down an instrument that looked like a cone attached to a tube. "All hands to stations - prepare for sub-ether jump."
"Thank you, Skive," Sanria said as she checked over the console. All gauges were within appropriate limits and she flipped the switches on her chair to begin warming up the engines. "Calibrations."
"Calibrations?" Skive called into the cone.
"Point zero seven one. Within limits. Ready," returned the tinny voice.
"Alright, places for teleport to Torregiano."
"Places!"
Skive had only enough time to seat himself before Sanria placed the coordinates and sent the ship into a burst of white light. In a matter of seconds, the ship sat at the Torregiano beacon. Sanria piloted the ship down to the tarmack and worried about the heavy traffic and the "NO PARKING" signs. She drove the ship to the south-west tower. Several of the gnome crew lept out to secure the ship as did Sanria, though more for breakfast than anything.
Once she had eaten, she returned to the ship to wait for Remus. She had heard nothing from him yet, but to contact him through the crystal might have proved bad for him. Attempting to get hidden armor might be a sight more difficult with a noisy crystal requesting your location.
So the day passed and Sanria took her evening meal with the crew in the galley. She had a deep respect for the gnomes - though they all looked like children playing dress-up - they were brilliant and fearless. Skive saluted briefly as she left the galley and went to her quarters. Perhaps tomorrow she would again go into the city and buy supplies. Thus the night passed into the dawn of the next day.
"Captain."
Sanria rose from her bed, her body sluggish, her eyes full of sleep. "Yes? Enter."
Tedge, one of the hands, walked into the room. His voice was small and high-pitched, but he still managed an air of serious urgency. "First Mate Skive, he's having it out with the dock workers. We weren't s'posed to be overnight."
"Thank you, I'm on my way."
It was a sight, a being barely three feet tall toe-to-toe with a man nearly seven. The worker was very skinny, with a blaze of red hair and a moustache to match. He spoke rapidly and with the irritated manner of one who has seen the rules broken before.
"I don't care what you meant to do. This is temporary parking only and you will have to pay up."
"Maybe if you had a sign bigger than me saying that, we'd pay."
"Look bud, you're lucky I don't punt you offa here."
"Punt me? You giant ogre. You smell like piss from down here. I don't care how much you threaten-"
"Skive, I heard we have a problem."
"Aye, Captain."
"Captain?" the dock hand chimed incredulously. "You pilot of this vessel?"
"Captain, yes," Sanria corrected.
"Whatever. Look. There's the sign. That's a 200 platinum offence. Plus interest with your lap dog yappin' at me. You don't fork over 250, you're getting towed."
"You swine..." Skive growled.
"It's alright. We broke the rules." Sanria turned her attention to the tall man.
"What say you 225? That way, I don't have to mention to anyone about corruption up here."
"230."
"Fair enough." Sanria pulled out a slip of paper, writing the figure onto it. "You can lock the ship to the dock until I return. I don't carry that much on me."
"I'll just keep my eyes open," the man muttered, taking the slip of paper.
"Skive, I'm off to breakfast."
"Aye."
"Watch the ship."
Sanria walked the gangplank, turning her back on the nodding gnome who appeared unfinished with the giant redhead. It wasn't far to the Sunflower Cafe, and Sanria was excited to again enjoy their breakfast special.
Her order arrived and eagerly she ate. She had almost finished when a face appeared that nearly made her drop her fork. She couldn't get the waiter's attention quick enough, nor could she turn away fast enough. Her stomach was knotted immediately, and it froze as soon as she heard the words, "Hello, Sanria."
Steeling herself, she turned back around and looked up into Thasmudyan's face. Of all the times he could have chosen to appear - it had to be when she was - again - in doubt. With a slight nod, she answered simply: "Hello."
Prison Break
Sanria rose from the boulder after drifting off to a quiet sleep. The birds twittered and chattered on the branches above her, and even with all her connections to the beauty of nature around her, Sanria found a near miss by her head - left by the chirping bombers above. She ran a hand through her hair and decided to waste no more time. "Defero ad gentiliatis o caeles - com incolumitas, celeritas, et mea gratia aeternus." In a twisting column of mist, a black door grew from the ground. Through this, Sanria stepped, and ended in her clan hall. For one in a clan which knows so much, the location of the Paxian jail was a snippet for which she required a map.
Sanria traversed the hall with a look of consternated contemplation, a diametrically opposite pair of emotions, in order to pass her fellow clan members without fear of interruption. In a clan where knowledge is revered, seldom is one bothered when such a look is on ones face. She reached the quiet Anthenaeum and the many tomes which held both ancient and modern maps. It was to her benefit she had asked none where the jail was - her face was red enough knowing it was a short stroll from Market Square. With a few passing nods, Sanria reached the magical passage which gave her access to Market Square. Within moments, she stood before a marble building. It chilled her to be in such a pristine place, and unnerved her a bit more to see the various insignias worn by the guards. Order of Justice.
Passing through the upright and massive girth of the pillars, a door with a brass plaque caught her eye: "Jail." It never seemed to do for any OOJ officer to waste time being superfluous. At the base of the narrow stairwell, the smell of piss and sour milk set up camp within her nostrils. It was dank, it was dark, and the guard looked both irritated, and glad to see her. "Excuse me, where can I find Remus?"
"No visitors." The guard was a large man, who, upon the interruption, stood up - hitching up his pants and sticking out his chest.
"It has been quite some time since I have heard a voice of the fairer sex," a voice called.
"Please... only a moment..."
With a simple nod, Sanria was granted access to the prisoner, and upon reaching him she couldn't contain her dismay. Remus' eyes were bandaged completely over. Indeed, he was rather large man - though rather rough for wear. "Oh this won't do... you can't see?"
"I see that you were gasping in surprise dear lady."
"Lithanus didn't tell me this... it just won't do."
"Lithanus... Lithanus sent you?"
"Yes," Sanria sighed, her head now against the bars of the cell. "Throm is missing."
"Hmm, I should have killed the little bugger when I had the chance. Throm??"
Sanria elaborated on her very, very, very limited amount of knowledge the fact that Throm had left her side and not told her where he was heading. Now, he could be in danger. As they spoke, more information appeared to drop from the sky - as though the man who Remus knew, the father Lithanus knew, and the man Sanria knew – were in fact, three different people altogether. Here, from Remus, she discovered Throm had once been a scout and had had dealings in Vector.
None-the-less, she would not allow her personal worries and misgivings intrude upon what she felt was at the very least, her duty to a dear friend. She did loved Throm and she would absolutely see to his wellbeing. With this in mind, and a polite request for Remus never to mention a thing to Throm, Sanria set about to seduce the guard into an immediate cup of tea.
Reluctantly, the guard rose and Sanria escorted him to the street. "Oh, my dear, I have forgotten my pack. Please... wait here and don't leave," her voice lowered and she leaned in with eyes in full 'come hither' status. "I really do want that cup of tea." Sanria's feet then flew to the desk, the keys, and Remus' cell.
"What's the escape plan?" Sanria gasped and her eyes widened in alarm. This was one part of using feminine wiles that had been excluded. "Your silence says it all. Run!" As though granted by the Gods, the two fled the hall, dodging guards - even the disbelieving face that had been duped into allowing a prison break.
Not in a long time had Sanria really run to the point of exhaustion, but she found her feet flying and her chest threatening to collapse. She was doubly astounded at the fact that a blind man was running through the streets - leading her. She had no idea where they were going until the towers of the uth Bannon mannor came into view. "I've imagined this rout a million times over... not running the entire way mind you but I'll take what I can get."
Grinning, Remus tried the gates. "Details details details." "If you trust me," Sanria spoke between returning breaths, "you can accompany me to my home.""You just sprung me from jail... I have to trust you lady."
After slipping through the streets and the wood, both Remus and Sanria slipped behind the falls and beyond the threshold of her house. Initially, she led him to a bedroom in the upper half, but with the din of water from the falls, she escorted him to the bowels of the cavernous house.
It was here in Sanria's small study the two spoke and Sanria found out more about Throm than she had known from both the man himself and his son combined. Her discussions in the past day had left her wondering exactly what was going on. Her love that had grown for Throm was the motivating force for ensuring his complete safety. Her fear of change, of absence, of what seemed to be anything that involved truly living, was what left her undecided and worried.
Remus was offered the old master suite, and the story of why it was decorated in green and blue and silks and satins, and the two parted for the night. The following day, she would meet him in Torregiano - after he had acquired a very promising set of armor -and they would follow Ferin north in the hopes of discovering the root of Throm's travel.
Sanria traversed the hall with a look of consternated contemplation, a diametrically opposite pair of emotions, in order to pass her fellow clan members without fear of interruption. In a clan where knowledge is revered, seldom is one bothered when such a look is on ones face. She reached the quiet Anthenaeum and the many tomes which held both ancient and modern maps. It was to her benefit she had asked none where the jail was - her face was red enough knowing it was a short stroll from Market Square. With a few passing nods, Sanria reached the magical passage which gave her access to Market Square. Within moments, she stood before a marble building. It chilled her to be in such a pristine place, and unnerved her a bit more to see the various insignias worn by the guards. Order of Justice.
Passing through the upright and massive girth of the pillars, a door with a brass plaque caught her eye: "Jail." It never seemed to do for any OOJ officer to waste time being superfluous. At the base of the narrow stairwell, the smell of piss and sour milk set up camp within her nostrils. It was dank, it was dark, and the guard looked both irritated, and glad to see her. "Excuse me, where can I find Remus?"
"No visitors." The guard was a large man, who, upon the interruption, stood up - hitching up his pants and sticking out his chest.
"It has been quite some time since I have heard a voice of the fairer sex," a voice called.
"Please... only a moment..."
With a simple nod, Sanria was granted access to the prisoner, and upon reaching him she couldn't contain her dismay. Remus' eyes were bandaged completely over. Indeed, he was rather large man - though rather rough for wear. "Oh this won't do... you can't see?"
"I see that you were gasping in surprise dear lady."
"Lithanus didn't tell me this... it just won't do."
"Lithanus... Lithanus sent you?"
"Yes," Sanria sighed, her head now against the bars of the cell. "Throm is missing."
"Hmm, I should have killed the little bugger when I had the chance. Throm??"
Sanria elaborated on her very, very, very limited amount of knowledge the fact that Throm had left her side and not told her where he was heading. Now, he could be in danger. As they spoke, more information appeared to drop from the sky - as though the man who Remus knew, the father Lithanus knew, and the man Sanria knew – were in fact, three different people altogether. Here, from Remus, she discovered Throm had once been a scout and had had dealings in Vector.
None-the-less, she would not allow her personal worries and misgivings intrude upon what she felt was at the very least, her duty to a dear friend. She did loved Throm and she would absolutely see to his wellbeing. With this in mind, and a polite request for Remus never to mention a thing to Throm, Sanria set about to seduce the guard into an immediate cup of tea.
Reluctantly, the guard rose and Sanria escorted him to the street. "Oh, my dear, I have forgotten my pack. Please... wait here and don't leave," her voice lowered and she leaned in with eyes in full 'come hither' status. "I really do want that cup of tea." Sanria's feet then flew to the desk, the keys, and Remus' cell.
"What's the escape plan?" Sanria gasped and her eyes widened in alarm. This was one part of using feminine wiles that had been excluded. "Your silence says it all. Run!" As though granted by the Gods, the two fled the hall, dodging guards - even the disbelieving face that had been duped into allowing a prison break.
Not in a long time had Sanria really run to the point of exhaustion, but she found her feet flying and her chest threatening to collapse. She was doubly astounded at the fact that a blind man was running through the streets - leading her. She had no idea where they were going until the towers of the uth Bannon mannor came into view. "I've imagined this rout a million times over... not running the entire way mind you but I'll take what I can get."
Grinning, Remus tried the gates. "Details details details." "If you trust me," Sanria spoke between returning breaths, "you can accompany me to my home.""You just sprung me from jail... I have to trust you lady."
After slipping through the streets and the wood, both Remus and Sanria slipped behind the falls and beyond the threshold of her house. Initially, she led him to a bedroom in the upper half, but with the din of water from the falls, she escorted him to the bowels of the cavernous house.
It was here in Sanria's small study the two spoke and Sanria found out more about Throm than she had known from both the man himself and his son combined. Her discussions in the past day had left her wondering exactly what was going on. Her love that had grown for Throm was the motivating force for ensuring his complete safety. Her fear of change, of absence, of what seemed to be anything that involved truly living, was what left her undecided and worried.
Remus was offered the old master suite, and the story of why it was decorated in green and blue and silks and satins, and the two parted for the night. The following day, she would meet him in Torregiano - after he had acquired a very promising set of armor -and they would follow Ferin north in the hopes of discovering the root of Throm's travel.
To the future
Sanria walked through the woods of Haon Dor, listening to the crunch of dirt, sticks, and leaves her feet created with each step. Through her aging mind came flooding years of information and misinformation, good choices and bad. In her life after leaving the grove, she had several exceptional years of bliss and joy... those spent with Thasmudyan. After the seeming lifetime of misery after his death, and return, and "death" - she had found almost by accident someone she felt she could spend the rest of her life with. Now, her thoughts on this were much less steady than her feet passing along the ground. She sat down on a boulder that jutted from the base of a tree and put her head into her hand.
The trip to Paradise Island with Throm was now in the past. When she had risen to find herself alone, she automatically assumed he was perhaps on the island somewhere. After waiting the day, she realized he wasn't. She had gone home without a word from him, but it didn't cause any fear or doubts as it would have years before. Her assumption was that his duties had taken him and he would return soon. Soon she had spoken to Lithanus, a meeting that in her mind, didn't go as well as it could have. Then, she met with him again today.
The boy seemed nonchalant about his father being gone. A fact which irritated Sanria to no end. Lithanus had better things to do than find his father – this after finding out that he had "lost" him. Many other things came to the fore, making Sanria wish she had never left her home in the first place. She simply couldn't understand what deed she had committed to make the realms choose her for punishment again and again. Just when her grasp on life had seemed to solidify, life slipped away in a haze or doubt and teasing despair.
Her body slipped a bit from the boulder, jerking Sanria back to the present. Birds sang and around her could be heard the scampering of small animals. Here was here home and all she wished was at that instant to sink into it and not have to return, but thoughts such as these, she knew, did nothing to help her. She would have to locate this Paxian jail and speak to the Remus, Nathaniel man who apparently would lend a hand since it was for the benefit of Throm.
First, however, she would do something she'd not done in a long time. Licking her lips, she rolled up her sleeve and placed a hand on the trunk of the tree at her side. A warm conduit flowed from her palms and onto the bark, slowly seeping into the tree itself. Her mind flooded with images of densely packed wood as she spoke her question: "Is Throm safe?" The swirling warmth which held her consciousness gradually elevated through the trunk, out to the branches, and into the leaves. She was at this instant, one with the entire forest, and any other living tree that touched it. Her mind traveled from tree to tree, from leaf to leaf, joining with the ancient knowledge of the wood - the irritations ofbeing gnawed by squirrels, the sorrow of being half consumed by fire, even the loss of a dear friend to a woodsman's axe- all these joined with her question and swelled to seek more information. She had only a fleeting answer in the form of irritation at the disruption of the quiet of the forest by an airship heading north. She reached beyond the woods for a moment and by sheer connection of life to life, soul to soul, she knew it was he. Her mind raced back in a manner of seconds through all the leaves and branches of interconnected forests and she wrapped her arms suddenly about the trunk of the tree at her side. Tears coursed down her face as she offered a thanks and attempted to separate her own feelings from those she had acquired in the pursuit of knowledge.
For several minutes, she couldn't move, and Sanria found herself simply dwelling on how she would track Throm. She wanted to start right away, but knowing the ruthless nature of the northern lands, this Remus fellow might be very helpful indeed. From her pack, she took a small whistle, and pierced the air with its song. In response to the high trill, a falcon's call could be heard. Snow-white from tip to tail, Ferin perched above her and cocked his head. "Friend, you will find what you need to know in the thoughts I will send you. Go to him, and be certain you keep watch for my own benefit."
Sanria closed her eyes, linking with the falcon - speaking with him telepathically in a very slow manner, giving to him all she knew from the discourse with the trees. With a long call followed by a few sharp clicks, Ferin flew from his mistress and into the sky beyond. When she had rested fully, she would seek a companion. For now, she lay wondering what she would do when she would meet once more with Throm - the rest of her life hinged on a choice and she was deathly afraid to make it.
The trip to Paradise Island with Throm was now in the past. When she had risen to find herself alone, she automatically assumed he was perhaps on the island somewhere. After waiting the day, she realized he wasn't. She had gone home without a word from him, but it didn't cause any fear or doubts as it would have years before. Her assumption was that his duties had taken him and he would return soon. Soon she had spoken to Lithanus, a meeting that in her mind, didn't go as well as it could have. Then, she met with him again today.
The boy seemed nonchalant about his father being gone. A fact which irritated Sanria to no end. Lithanus had better things to do than find his father – this after finding out that he had "lost" him. Many other things came to the fore, making Sanria wish she had never left her home in the first place. She simply couldn't understand what deed she had committed to make the realms choose her for punishment again and again. Just when her grasp on life had seemed to solidify, life slipped away in a haze or doubt and teasing despair.
Her body slipped a bit from the boulder, jerking Sanria back to the present. Birds sang and around her could be heard the scampering of small animals. Here was here home and all she wished was at that instant to sink into it and not have to return, but thoughts such as these, she knew, did nothing to help her. She would have to locate this Paxian jail and speak to the Remus, Nathaniel man who apparently would lend a hand since it was for the benefit of Throm.
First, however, she would do something she'd not done in a long time. Licking her lips, she rolled up her sleeve and placed a hand on the trunk of the tree at her side. A warm conduit flowed from her palms and onto the bark, slowly seeping into the tree itself. Her mind flooded with images of densely packed wood as she spoke her question: "Is Throm safe?" The swirling warmth which held her consciousness gradually elevated through the trunk, out to the branches, and into the leaves. She was at this instant, one with the entire forest, and any other living tree that touched it. Her mind traveled from tree to tree, from leaf to leaf, joining with the ancient knowledge of the wood - the irritations ofbeing gnawed by squirrels, the sorrow of being half consumed by fire, even the loss of a dear friend to a woodsman's axe- all these joined with her question and swelled to seek more information. She had only a fleeting answer in the form of irritation at the disruption of the quiet of the forest by an airship heading north. She reached beyond the woods for a moment and by sheer connection of life to life, soul to soul, she knew it was he. Her mind raced back in a manner of seconds through all the leaves and branches of interconnected forests and she wrapped her arms suddenly about the trunk of the tree at her side. Tears coursed down her face as she offered a thanks and attempted to separate her own feelings from those she had acquired in the pursuit of knowledge.
For several minutes, she couldn't move, and Sanria found herself simply dwelling on how she would track Throm. She wanted to start right away, but knowing the ruthless nature of the northern lands, this Remus fellow might be very helpful indeed. From her pack, she took a small whistle, and pierced the air with its song. In response to the high trill, a falcon's call could be heard. Snow-white from tip to tail, Ferin perched above her and cocked his head. "Friend, you will find what you need to know in the thoughts I will send you. Go to him, and be certain you keep watch for my own benefit."
Sanria closed her eyes, linking with the falcon - speaking with him telepathically in a very slow manner, giving to him all she knew from the discourse with the trees. With a long call followed by a few sharp clicks, Ferin flew from his mistress and into the sky beyond. When she had rested fully, she would seek a companion. For now, she lay wondering what she would do when she would meet once more with Throm - the rest of her life hinged on a choice and she was deathly afraid to make it.
Proposal
Emalia wandered back from her mother's house at the rise of night. The trees whispered in the cool breeze, but there was no hint of danger. Aside from the lightly chattering leaves, there were no noises save the chirping crickets and hoot of the occasional owl. In typical fashion, her mind was occupied by the disturbing news of her mother and Sir Throm being involved. It seemed to solidify the fact that her father and mother were never going to be together again, and it bothered her. Her father, Thasmudyan, had been staying with her. He was just as in reach as her mother, but it wasn't to be - she couldn't mend anything. She could not put together her family.
This train of thought, so short here, took her the remainder of her walk home. No sooner had she walked through the door, than Colin greeted her and ushered her into the dining room. Candles donned the table and Emalia sighed deeply.
'Why. Why do all this?' she thought. 'If he wants to get under my robes, he should just do it. It's all he's after anyway.'
Emalia's mind went cross, dwelling upon the fact that her interactions with Colin had actually been giving him life. He had eaten for the first time, drank for the first time, and even slept for the first time. It seemed now as if she was merely a fountain for him to drink from - as much as he desired her.
Emalia sat with a sigh, her mind now preoccupied by two issues. The steaming plates of salmon weren't enough to draw her mind from them, and when Colin set a glass of wine in front of her, she decided enough was enough. "You don't have to do all of this. I can probably just figure out how to bottle my lifeforce and you won't have to wade through all of this trouble."
"What are you talking about? All this trouble?"
"Just... this... dinner, candles, wine... I just feel like... I don't know... that you're just here so you can get... you know."
"No no no... I mean, of course I do like that. But I was around well before that. I'm here because of you. I just love being with you."
Colin again began to proclaim how enamored he was as Emalia looked down. It wasn't that she didn't believe him, but she just couldn't bring herself to say the same. When he placed the small box in her hands, she nearly dropped it. Her mouth hung open as she stared at the ring, her heart beat wildly.
These things weren't on the count of excitement, rather, they were on the count that it was not what she wanted. Though, what could she say? He did love her, he was absolutely devoted to her, he was caring, he was everything that any woman may have killed to have. Emalia wanted to tell him no, she needed more time, but the thought crossed her mind, 'Perhaps, he will grow on me as he has slowly. He does love me after all.'
Emalia nodded her head and suddenly had the breath squeezed from her in Colin's enormous embrace. He set her back down, realizing she hadn't put the ring on her finger yet. As he requested her to put it on, as she slid it into place, all her apprehensions grew to proportions beyond her imaginings. She could do nothing but cry. Her only hope was that Colin would not presume they were tears of anything other than joy.
This train of thought, so short here, took her the remainder of her walk home. No sooner had she walked through the door, than Colin greeted her and ushered her into the dining room. Candles donned the table and Emalia sighed deeply.
'Why. Why do all this?' she thought. 'If he wants to get under my robes, he should just do it. It's all he's after anyway.'
Emalia's mind went cross, dwelling upon the fact that her interactions with Colin had actually been giving him life. He had eaten for the first time, drank for the first time, and even slept for the first time. It seemed now as if she was merely a fountain for him to drink from - as much as he desired her.
Emalia sat with a sigh, her mind now preoccupied by two issues. The steaming plates of salmon weren't enough to draw her mind from them, and when Colin set a glass of wine in front of her, she decided enough was enough. "You don't have to do all of this. I can probably just figure out how to bottle my lifeforce and you won't have to wade through all of this trouble."
"What are you talking about? All this trouble?"
"Just... this... dinner, candles, wine... I just feel like... I don't know... that you're just here so you can get... you know."
"No no no... I mean, of course I do like that. But I was around well before that. I'm here because of you. I just love being with you."
Colin again began to proclaim how enamored he was as Emalia looked down. It wasn't that she didn't believe him, but she just couldn't bring herself to say the same. When he placed the small box in her hands, she nearly dropped it. Her mouth hung open as she stared at the ring, her heart beat wildly.
These things weren't on the count of excitement, rather, they were on the count that it was not what she wanted. Though, what could she say? He did love her, he was absolutely devoted to her, he was caring, he was everything that any woman may have killed to have. Emalia wanted to tell him no, she needed more time, but the thought crossed her mind, 'Perhaps, he will grow on me as he has slowly. He does love me after all.'
Emalia nodded her head and suddenly had the breath squeezed from her in Colin's enormous embrace. He set her back down, realizing she hadn't put the ring on her finger yet. As he requested her to put it on, as she slid it into place, all her apprehensions grew to proportions beyond her imaginings. She could do nothing but cry. Her only hope was that Colin would not presume they were tears of anything other than joy.
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