Lazarus Rising (Sian)

[Mara]

His scrutiny dimmed and exchanged for unease, "No, I'm afraid not." there was no decent news he had to bargain. He did not know. If his city of skyglass still stood, he had no knowledge of it. He gulped a rigid lump and left it at that. If refugees had made it from Lhavit they had not revealed it to him, or they were already deceased and cast into the pits, that secret lost with them.

Lhavit, a city of skyglass, more beautiful by night than by day, obviously they must hold Kalinor in some contempt, how could they not. For lengthy spans, Lhavitian women have been influenced to be returned to this place and to give birth to Symenestra children at the cost of their life. There were always two sides to a tale, he understood why they did what they did, but that's not to say he coincided with it. He only kept his mouth shut. A race cannot fully be distinct by half of its populace’s actions, though it would be challenging to see it any other way. He could fathom why Sian saw the city as he did, especially when all he had seen of Kalinor was from a table in the Purging. It did have a lure, maybe one only the eyes his mother gifted with him could witness. A city completely woven of silk, with a watery glow of muted opalgloams. He was adapted to it and now he could see the wonder all around him. Impressed by how adroitly constructed the city was, how secluded its inhabitants. It was not difficult to relate.

"Any that have been amicable about arriving from Lhavit all came before the storm." it was honest, likely too honest, but he had pronounced it with full intention. He could not be sure of what, but he was seeking to pluck apart the motives that he had for being here. A thick black nail scratched about the inside of his palm as he thought. "I will listen for any news, if you like. When I hear anything I will let you know."

He heaved a sigh, craving more from his pokerfaced patient. He was not sure why he was vying so hard for him. He could not avoid it; every time he viewed him he had the impulse to win him over. After all the exertion he had put into patching his body he wanted to be commended with answers. "Sian, I know you feel you can't trust me. Your rationales are deeper than Kalinor itself I’m sure. I don't know why you came here from Lhavit, and whether you'll tell me." his suspicions bubbled past the lid with the fire lit under his interest, and he tipped forward so his voice would not relay past the doorways. "I am telling you though; I'm only here to benefit. Hate me if you wish, for what I am, and for what this city has done, I'm not going to debate their ethics-" he closed his eyes in frustration at his slip of words. "our ethics, but don't lie here and act as if you can accomplish whatever you came here to do on your own. You are a firefly in a cave of spiders, you will stand out and you will be watched." His legs crossed in his seat, pressing his back to the frame of the chair as his argument was now hammered through. "You will be given an escort, everywhere you go, for you will not be able to reach the simplest of structures without help, but more importantly just as you do not trust, the city will not trust you. Hell, they don't trust me."

"Whatever you decide, don't think I'll sit back and let you get yourself killed after all my hard work to keep you alive."

[Sian The]

Dra-Marvasa’s answer was no news at all – but no news was good news, some said. He had not heard of Lhavit’s fate – but at least he had not heard anything bad. Sian The could still hold onto his hope. Surely his lady, and Syna, and Leth, would not let their city perish, if they had the power to prevent it? Sian felt a stab of guilt, that he had deserted his post with the city guard, at a time when they would have undoubtedly needed all the able bodies they could muster. But how could he have known that such a storm would come? And still, he doubted that even if he had known, that it could have dissuaded him from leaving. He nodded and gave Mara a quiet, “Thank you, Dra-Marvasa. That would be most kind.” Sian settled back against the pillows, and thought to hear more innocuous questions or commentary from the healer. But the words that came next sent a paralyzing shock through his very bones. Sian’s many years of training with the Shinya stood him in good stead at that moment, for the strength it gave him to keep his features impassive. His ears were wide open though, of course, and he took in every word the healer let fall, trying to commit them to memory for later analysis. They were of a nature to chill his marrow, so close did they dance to what Sian so desperately wished to keep hidden. But even as each one fell, only to be followed by another, already the import of what Mara said was apparent. It wasn’t anything new or startling in concept to Sian – it was just freakishly scary to think that he might have been so transparent. It was true, and he had not failed to think over and over and over again just how difficult his self-ascribed rescue mission was going to be. Reaching Kalinor had seemed the least of it – at least when he had first set out from Lhavit, before the storm. Even after the storm, as each hour was a veritable struggle to survive, he had to consider what lay ahead – if he reached the city – if it had weathered the storm intact – if he was allowed entrance – then what? The men who had traded in the city before had told him how it was laid out – how getting about was either very difficult or impossible, for non-syms. They knew nothing about where the females who were kidnapped were kept – or said they didn’t. For a merchant who wished to do well in trade, it didn’t pay to ask nosy questions about or cast aspersions on their trade partners’ culture. All Sian had known – all he still knew – was that he knew very little about Kalinor or the habits of its denizens. Every word from Mara’s lips was true – he was here – wherever here was. He was alive – barely, and only thanks to the healer. And he had no allies, no way to get around, no way to know where to even look for his sister. And at the same time, what did he know about this healer, who seemed to be cautioning him? If Sian blurted out his reason for being here, was it likely that even a half blood Sym would just stand idly by while he tried to find Jael and get her out of this hell hole?Even if Dra-Marvasa was not of this place originally, he had still moved here. His mother was one of them. His relatives lived here, no doubt. Why would he turn on his own kind? Could Sian trust and believe that the healer seemed to view himself separate and apart from the inhabitants here, just from a few hastily corrected pronouns? Mara had said it himself. Sian, I know you feel you can’t trust me. And it was true – along with and despite all the rest being true as well. But now that Dra-Marvasa seemed already suspicious of Sian, how could the Lhavitian ever hope to subtly tease any helpful information out of him? And what were the chances that there would be any other in Kalinor – who would somehow come across Sian The in this deserted room of the infirmary – that would be less suspicious and replete with information that would lead to both Jael and a rescue plan? For a very long moment, after Mara has made that last assertion – almost a vow – in that low voice – Sian said nothing. His face was impassive, as his brain twisted and turned like a new caught fish in a trap. His eyes, which had dropped to the coverings as Mara spoke so ardently, finally lifted to search those odd, changing eyes. If this was a trap, and he fell in, he was sealing his fate, and Jael’s, and Jiu’s. If it was not a trap, and he lied to Mara now, could he expect anything but heightened suspicions from henceforth? It seemed a no-win situation, with only the slimmest chance for a good outcome. Looking into those exhausted eyes, Sian though to himself, would he have gone to such lengths to save me, only to now have me killed? Sian said a silent prayer to his goddess. Lady, you have led me this far. You have kept me alive. I put my trust in you that you have led me to this healer, and this healer to me, so that I may carry out my mission and save your daughter, Jael, and return her to her son. Please, lady, I beg you, to keep this man’s heart open and let him feel some of the love you bear your children of Lhavit. Speak to your sister Morwen, that she may whisper to his heart, that what I do, I do for love, and not for hatred of his race Sian swallowed past the rock lodged in his neck, and spoke as softly and quietly as Mara had. “By all that you hold dear, Dra-Marvasa – by any that you love or have ever loved – with whatever pity or mercy or kindness in your heart that I see so clearly written in your face and in your acts of devotion to healing – I beseech you . . . help me find my sister.”

[Mara]

The confession jarred him as rocks falling precisely into place along the ocean floor and flinging up mounds of complacent sand after an extensive rolling plunge. It was as a suspicion he had pronounced in whispers among his thoughts. Still his heart dove, sinking into the chasms below the subversive stronghold to be feasted on by grotesque manner of creatures that held no identity.

Though it was what he assumed it to be, it was the worst case scenario. To aid a foreign refugee uncover the whereabouts of his sister now expectedly made surrogate or worse, made corpse. Cherry churned into the exposed gutter of his pupils leaving diaphanous lavender nearly as bloodless as his paled face.

He rose from his seat and focused away from Sian, gripping about the crest of his collar, compressing the matter firmly between raking black blades. "Your sister..." he restated as a very nearly inaudible ricochet croaking from his constricted windpipe. “Jael." he guessed only assuming and more for his own contemplations than for Sian's endorsement of his deduction.

Surrogates came and went, children were born and mothers would perish. It was the brutal orbit of life here and all he could do was unobtrusively take a backseat and attempt to imagine it did not trouble to him. Now here it was challenging him, lobbing the licentiousness of his action upon his conscience. He was no better than those that participated; his hand was assisting, stirring about the large vat of gore that would maintain the Symenestra race.

What allegiance did he hold? He was part Symenestra, his mother’s blood powerfully glazed his genes, and she loved her people, she loved Kalinor. Did he not owe them some loyalty, for her sake at least?

Whitened knuckles pressed into the surface of the counter across the room. Horseshoe indents pierced into the wooded surface as his features distorted in dozens of reactions.

He was a human as well, he could not outrun it. He was reminded of it at every turn. He had loved a human, he had a human father, and he had been fostered among them. He had stroked the guiltiness of death and ascertained the value all life. His life had been decidedly fashioned by this portion of him. How far was he straying from his obligations?

Sian was asking. He had put into words his appeal. He would not deny him, he could not. He turned to front him in an even twist that alighted his lower back along the worktop he had just penetrated. His arms overlapped about his chest. Only understated variations denoted the outburst that struck his now congealed exterior. He nodded, his expression threatening to crumble. "I swear by my life, I will help you."

His eyes connected with the floor after the vow had been voiced and an enraged organ slammed against his torso making it hard to catch his breath. "I'll do all I can." He was afraid, of what this destined and of what he would do, and how far he may have to take this endeavor.

Failure or success his life would bend into a new direction he had no foresight of. It seemed impudent, but he considered it necessary to atone for the blood smearing his hands, before and after Kalinor.

[Sian The]

The consternation, the alarm, was all too evident on Dra-Marvasa’s strained and exhausted features. Sian’s soul lurched inside him, wishing instantly that he could take back those words – reclaim them and bury them so deeply that no-one in Kalinor could ever guess his secret – his quest. But he could not. All he could do was wait for the anger, the indignation to wash over the shock and then for the healer to jump up and sound the call for the soldiers of this city. Sian The braced, though there would be nothing he could do. He was far too damaged, far too weak. In one breath he had wiped away all chance of ever reuniting Jiu with his mother. All three of them were lost, because of his impulsive leap of faith. Mara did indeed rise, his face still incredulous, unaccepting of this unwanted new burden. From his barely moving lips then fell the one word that tied Sian’s nightmares to his startling revelation – Jael. Sian immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion, his mind expanding at the thought – Dra-Marvasa knew his sister. She was here! At that assumption alone, he didn’t know whether to crow in relief or to cry out in horror. But all he could do was to hold his breath, unconsciously, and wait for the young healer to march to the closed door and call for help – to call for death – Sian’s. Frantically, Sian’s core of being struggled against that thought – there had to be a way to fight them, to survive, to rescue her. He had come so far! He could not be defeated – not now – so close to his goal! His eyes were glued on Mara, wondering why the young man hesitated, not allowing himself to hope that maybe he had been correct in his guesses, and that Mara was really as torn between two worlds as he appeared to be. When the healer turned, Sian expected only a blast of condemnation, before the half blood would haughtily consign him to his fate. But when Mara spoke, Sian had to shake his brain and ask himself – had he really heard what he thought he had heard????? Sian gasped, audibly, his breath too catching in his chest – his heart leaping into his throat. He had been right – but he still hardly dared to believe it. It had to be the Lady Zintilla. It had to be her intervention – her guidance – her love for her children that had brought him into Dra-Marvasa’s care. There could be no other explanation, for this devout follower. Sian swallowed past that damn lump, barely feeling it this time, in his relief and cautious joy. “Dra-Marvasa,” he whispered hoarsely. “You are sent by the gods. In return for your pledge, I make one in return. I swear by my life, that in return for you help, I will pledge you my service for the rest of my days on this earth. Help me find my sister – Jael. Help me find a way to get her out of Kalinor – and when she is safe, I will spend the rest of my life in your debt. I will render you any service, no matter what you ask of me. Help me and I will serve you until my dying breath - my life, in exchange for my sister’s. I swear this, by my lady.”

[Mara]

Mara speared into the covered skin of his arms, anchoring himself from scurrying away to be on his own. He needed to face this, but his feet shifted awkwardly beneath him like a sprinter preparing to dash. He practically hissed at the proposition that was given. It was an undeserving one and his head slung away with an obstructed scowl. "I will not hold you to such promises. I am doing this because it is my obligation. I prayed for many things while you fought for your life. The gods gave their reply, and I have debts of my own to clear. You are among these, your sister as well if she is here." Sian was not safe, even as they spoke so casually of sacrifice and dues, his life was in jeopardy, from his pestilence as well as from Kalinor. One sputtered word of this infidelity and they would both be terminated. Chills prickled down his backbone at the thought, it would not be his idyllic end.

Whitened spheres latched upon the unwrapped neck, each labored gulp rose veins and tissue across the scaled skin. He needed to know of his ailment. "Sian, you are not well." his admission hung around his neck profoundly. His ignorance may well have been a contribution to this fact. "This infection you received, I don't know what it's doing to you. I worked as hard as I could and it was controlled. It is no longer venting from the wounds. I think I slowed it down, maybe immobilized it for some time but it is festering below the exterior." he jerked himself forward and the nimble resounding of each feathery step slapped the floor until he hovered over his patient. "I'm sure you can feel it. I see the pain scripted along your gritting jaw." His fingers stretched so they skimmed across the cratering sticky film, his features unstiffened to a composed compassion. "I made a promise, to bring you back to life. I don't want to witness anymore death than I must.” The words were acidic admittances over his tongue. So I will help you save your sister if she is here, and escape Kalinor. All I ask is that you take me with you and allow me to continue to work upon your condition." Sian The had a family, and had risked his life to preserve it. Mara had nothing but weathers pages to preserve to himself. He did not realize until the option was presented before him that he was ready to leave Kalinor, to have a purpose besides the mediocre work that filed in for him. He came here for answers and once they were found there was no more reason to stay.

He turned his head out of habit to search over the bandaged limbs. Had he the heart to voice it, his quiet plea would ask for escape and purpose from his indebted existence. Whether that meant death or toil he was unsure of it himself. “I don’t expect anything else. I can find my own means of income and housing when we settle. I won’t be an unsightly burden in your home.”

[Sian The]

From his prone position on the cot, Sian could not see every minute aspect of Mara’s distress. But the tension here was palpable. Of course – what they spoke of was treason of the worst kind, for Mara. And it was the height of treachery and perfidy, for Sian, who had insinuated himself into Kalinor under the guise of hapless caravan guard. But the Shinya acolyte could clearly hear the strain in the healer’s voice, immediately rejecting Sian’s offered exchange – a life for a life. It didn’t matter, however. Regardless of Mara’s acceptance or not, if he delivered the help that he was promising, Sian would consider himself indebted for life, to the value of his own life. Returning Jael to her son was everything. Past that point – if they ever got to that point – he could care less about what happened to himself. And then, Mara moved that ‘point’ to a distance so seemingly far out of Sian’s grasp it made his head spin. Sian’s fingers flew to his neck as Mara dropped each careful word. He felt the lump there, and could feel it even more grossly pressing into the internal structures of his throat. Mara moved to join him, his fingers floating over the spots that Sian himself had just touched. Sian didn’t need to swallow again to know that what Mara said was true. In his mind’s eye he could see the shadowy beast, the face that snaked towards him and the fangs that pierced his skin. He knew, he was in serious trouble. One more problem to surpass. One more obstacle to getting Jael safely back to Lhavit. If the wound should prove too much for his system – if the poison in his blood should circulate – or maybe it already had . . . Sian pushed that thought away. It was what it was – there was nothing he, nor apparently Dra-Marvasa, could do about it, though he was beyond grateful for all that the healer had done to try to improve upon a condition that was so obviously a completely baffling mystery to him. As this new realization sank in, Sian resolved one thing only – he had to act quickly – as soon as possible – before this venomous growth shut down his life processes, if that’s where it was heading. His eyes traveled down his maimed and mangled body, and it was all he could do to keep from despairing. He had to act now – but he could not. There was just no way . . . But despite his thoughts, Sian did hear the healer’s last words – his simple request. Sian searched for Mara’s eyes and, touching his sleeve with his bandaged hand, he brought the healer’s attention to his own visage. With his earlier suspicions, framed as hope, confirmed by the healer’s poignant words, Sian could only guess at the isolation the young half-blood must have experienced here, in a city not built for his kind. Sian understood the concept of loyalty and devotion, and he understood what it took to make a man leave behind what he has been sworn to protect – to chase after something more precious than honor. He could not fully know what motivations brought that request forth. But he would not question them, not now. “Dra-Marvasa,” he said, eyes locked onto those now pale orbs. “Help me and I shall take you with us, or die trying. I will take you back to our city in the sky and you will see how beautiful freedom is, where no-one is compelled to give their life in place of another. And you can practice your arts and know that you bring only life and good health, and not death. I swear it.”

[Poison]

THREAD AWARD!

Mara:
Skills: Observation 2, Medicine 1, Persuasion 2, Interrogation 2
Lores: Lhavit, A Life for a Life

Sian:
Skills: Observation 2, Interrogation 2, Persuasion 2
Lores: Symenestra Food, Avanthal, A Life for a Life

Notes: I really enjoyed the thread, and I definitely look forward to reading more from you.

Since it was mostly a social thread, I couldn’t give you more XP.

If you have questions or think you deserve more or different XP and Lores, send me a PM!