Open Regret

[Ardan]

There was nothing. No buildings. No people. Only a great field of dead grass, a thick mist, and the moon. The light shone an eerie grey and everything appeared colorless. The air was dry, but very cold. As a person walked, the mist would disappear within ten meters , forming a perfect circle of clear air around them.

----------

Ardan's eyes shot open, and he found himself laid out flat on grey grass. He sat up, a pounding headache tormenting him. He slowly stood, feeling heavier than usual. He silently walked across the field, his headache fading.

Suddenly, he saw a shadow in the mist. A human, female, walking away. He slowly approached, up to when she was within reach. He slowly turned her around, revealing her face.

A human, with fair skin and brown hair. Around twenty years of age. Beautiful, wearing a plain, grey robe. She looked surprised, but tears came to her eyes and she smiled.

"Ardan," she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck in a fierce embrace. Ardan cautiously hugged back, confused. He recognized the voice, but from where? He had seen that face before, felt that embrace before.

"W-who are you?" he asked. She pulled back, a quizzical look on her face.

"Y-you don't remember me?" she asked, her tears turning to those of sadness. She looked into his eyes for a long time. He remembered those deep, blue eyes from somewhere. He felt like she was someone important, but his memory was clouded.

Suddenly, the woman leaned forward and melded her lips with his. As it happened, the memory of who this mysterious person was. He knew exactly who she was. As they separated, he gasped.

"Safire," he exclaimed. "I thought you were-"

"Dead?" she asked. "I was. But... the ritual..."

"Ritual?" Ardan's eyes went wide as he stepped back. "Gods, no. No. NO!" He stepped back several steps, examining the woman again. He noticed that her face was unnaturally pale. In fact, it was changing. It was constantly shifting between several different, similar women.

"You're a Nuit?" tears of rage came to his eyes as he remembered the night she was taken from him. A bang at the door. A flash of light, then darkness. When he awoke, the woman he loved was gone.

"Yes, Ardan. They performed the ritual on me, and I am now with the curse of undeath. Because you weren't strong enough. You weren't fast enough."

"They surprised me!"

"You need to be prepared for anything!" she shouted. "Do you want to lose more people? Do you want to die? You're a killer and a thief! Do you think anyone around you is safe?"

"I've been on the run for so long. I can't keep going."

"So you are content to sit back and let others be taken from you?"

"No, but-"

"But what!?"

"But I can fight!"

"No, you can't!" she bellowed as she pulled out a sword. She tried to stab him, but she was just too slow. Before the blade could connect, Ardan had already stabbed her in the abdomen.

It barely slowed her down. He grabbed her arm and removed the knife. With all of his strength, he severed her head. It was the only way he knew of to kill a Nuit.

After the adrenaline faded, he realized what he had done. He had just murdered the person he loved. He fell to his knees, tears rolling down his face. He screamed in rage, cursing himself. Cursing his pursuers. Cursing the gods themselves for allowing something like this to happen to someone he loved.
Speech

x

[Quint Caravel]

It was a very odd season. All season long he had been plagued with strange dreams. Some were his own. Some were not. Sometimes he knew that he was dreaming. Sometimes he did not. This time, for whatever reason, he was not lucid in any way. He was just drifting along. Just floating. And then he was on a sea of grass.

He walked along it and it became a field of dead grass, cold and grey. And then he came across a man and a woman talking. Well, first they were talking. Then they were arguing. Even so, Quint could tell that they were clearly in love. There was a great deal of passion and regret in their conversation.

Quint understood their conversation because earlier that very night he had lived through a very similar moment with his own lost love. It was a recurring dream, so part of it repeated now. . .

Looking like she did so many years ago, Vankita Caravel stood next to Quint on the grey grass, but now she was dressed as an Inarta Eagle-rider, and she smelled of nutmeg and sandalwood. "Hello, Quint."

"Well hello there, beautiful. I was thinking about you again." He took her soft hand in his own and squeezed tightly.

Vankita giggled at that. "It seems to be the place for that sort of things. Memories and regrets."

Quint glanced for a moment at Vankita. "What do you mean by that?"

Vankita nodded, her long ginger hair swirling around enough to make any other Inarta jealous. She pointed at Ardan. "Just what I said."

Quint was a man who considered himself quick on the uptake. "No, I don't know that guy. And I don't know what you mean. Let's take a walk."

Quint grabbed Vankita by the wrist-- just below where she had a tattoo of a stylized key with an open eye peering through the keyhole-- and he waited for her to come with him.

As they walked, Vankita asked him if he could remember the conversation Ardan had with the Nuit woman.

"Some of it. I don't know anything about rituals or killing. Why do you ask me of these other people, Vankita? I just want to stay with you."

She gave him a sad smile. "It's good to want things. But sometimes we don't get what we want. Like that woman, my own time is long since over."

"I refuse to accept that! This is a land of mystery and magic! There has to be a way for us to be reunited!"

Vankita looked up at her man. "Don't become a living ghost, Quint. I've said this to you before, last time at the beach, and the time before that at the tavern: the day of the Djed storm... that was my mistake. You have to let it go. Mizahar is not just about magic and mystery. This is a land of second chances. Please, Quint. You have to take yours."

As if caught in a recurring nightmare, Quint shook his head, a tear sliding down his cheek. "I can't do that."

Vankita nodded. "I'm sorry about this. I'm so sorry. But I can't bear to see you like this. A part of your soul is crazy because you can't let go of that moment when you tried and failed, and now you've wasted years afraid to ever try anything again. Forgive me, my love. We will meet one last time at the Masquerade Ball, and if you can't let go then.. well... " And on that ominous note she faded away, leaving him all alone with Ardan.

[Ardan]

Voices from behind. A man and a women, speaking in hushed tones. Then, silence. Whoever it was had not been there to watch the woman die. Had not been there to see her head roll.

Ardan stood, wiping tears of rage from his eyes. He turned, peering into the mist in the direction of the voices. He walked forward, coming to a large clearing, no mist to obstruct the man, now alone.

Kill him, he is a witness. Cut his throat and bathe in his blood. You know that you wish to.

No! Just find out what he is doing here. Perhaps he needn't die; only give an explanation.

"Hey!" shouted Ardan, gaining the man's attention. "Who are you, what are you doing here?" With each word, he stepped closer, until he was mere meters away from the witness.

"What did you see?"

x

[Quint Caravel]

[indentQuint did not see the other man approach until the man was just upon him. Quint's mind had been wandering and he was lost in his own memories. For a moment he and Ardan weren't on the plain of grey grass at all, but were instead standing inside some sort of cramped store room filled with vague mounds of stuff. This was the shadow of a memory; for a space of a moment between a bell and a chime a younger version of Quint could be seen in one corner, hiding, waiting for a guard to walk past. He would then purloin a small bag from a high shelf, grab it and stick it under his shirt, then rapidly vanish in the other direction just as Ardan confronted the actual Quint Caravel.

Ardan's "Hey!" grabbed Quint's attention. The scenery faded back to their present location, field of grey grass.

The half-Svefra blinked and listened to Ardan's questions. Quint wore gloves with the fingers cut off, and could be seen rubbing the stubble of his beard with one hand as he listened to Ardan with rapt attention.

He listened as he was asked who he was, was he was doing there, and what he had seen.
He understood immediately that the first two questions were merely formal inquiries and that the answers would be meaningless in pretty much any event. The third question was the one that mattered.

He'd been asked variations of the question many times in his waking life in Sunberth, so much so that the answer came unbidden to his lips. He spoke low and rapidly, gently raising his hands to show the other man his palms. "I didn't see nothing, Guv'nor. Not a thing, mate. Ain't me place to be looking, no how."

Quint nodded at his own words. "To stay 'live in this world a bloke's gotta know to stay out of other folks' bus'ness. That's what me Uncle Pondar always said. Ignored his own advice and got himself killed by a chippie he was sweet on. So I obeys it, his advice, religiously."

He gestured at himself with his thumb. "As to me, I be Quint. Quint Caravel of Sunberth. And as to me, what I be doin' here... I dunno, mate. I really don't know."

Quint slowly turned and pointed at the landscape. "Been thinking of my wife, Vankita the one who died in the Djed Storm. Biggest regret I ever had, of course." He couldn't quite articulate the rest of it, but somehow, someway, his regret had drawn him here. Something about this place had drawn him here while he was feeling deeply regretful, but he couldn't express it or explain it.

He took a deep breath, slow and mournful. Quint looked down and off to one side. He kept speaking to Ardan but he was lost in another memory. "Ah, Vankita. I keep seeing the moment I lost her. I know she wants me to let it go, to forgive myself and move on. But I can't. I just can't do that, mate."


[/indent]

[Ardan]

The grip on his dagger lessened as he heard Quint's response. He looked to the eyes, and saw that he was not lying. He relaxed, and the words just came out.

"I understand. We were engaged to be wed when Safire was taken from me." He looked around, noticing that the sky was subtly changing colors. Odd.

"I envy you, though. I've spent years not knowing what had become of her. I dreaded the thought that she had been enslaved or worse, turned into a Nuit." He looked to the ground, trying to hold back his anger and grief.

"I've spent all that time traveling and training, hoping to make sure that no one was ever taken from me again."

x

[Quint Caravel]

Quint listened carefully to everything the man said. He fancied himself a keen observer of the mortal condition and thus noticed when the man's grip on the dagger relaxed. Not having any training in daggers himself, Quint pondered on the small blade and wondered what situations that it would be useful in.

But mostly he listened to the man speak of his lost love. It was a sad situation all around.

One line in particular caught his fancy and echoed in his own thoughts: 'I've spent years traveling and training, hoping to make sure that no one was ever taken from me again.'

Quint nodded at that. "That does seem terrible. Truly Safire sounds like a very special and unique person and it is tragedy that she is gone. I am very sorry for your loss."

He looked down at the ground respectfully for some time.

Then another thought struck him. "I do have question that will seem rather elementary, but it is based on something you said. You said that you feared that Safire might become a Nuit, but what exactly is a Nuit? I don't believe I've ever encountered one before."

He paused and added another query. "And this question may be a bit more difficult to answer. Who are you and where are you from these days?"

Their background changed; now they were standing on the deck of a small boat which Quint explained was called a 'casinor.' They didn't appear on an ocean or lake; the boat simply traveled along as if this was a sea of grey grass.

Quint pointed at the boat, apparently as surprised at it appearing as Ardan might be. He explained that until recently he had spent his life on the High Seas, surrounded by sailors, and thus had very little understanding of the ways of the world, or at least that part of it which was on land. Perhaps there were Nuit or Undead sailors, but himself had hardly encountered any or heard of any. Water was a natural barrier against certain monsters-- all sailors knew this-- and perhaps it was a barrier against some forms of undead. Quint did not know and had no idea.

He allowed Ardan a turn at the wheel while it lasted. After some time they found themselves riding a regular horse-and-buggy carriage.

[Ardan]

Changes in his surroundings. He had been on a ship before, long ago. Smuggling cargo and refugees in and out for light pay. It was backbreaking and thankless work, each day making him wish to leave. The captain was a cruel drunk, charging ridiculous sums for passage and spending it on drinks.

Eventually, he had gone too far. He got drunk, beat an old woman, and raped her daughter. That same night, his head was rolling on the deck, and Ardan was gone. He never learned the fate of the two women.

His thoughts returned to Quint's questions. The first one was simple, only requiring a dip into the knowledge that the thief had acquired over the years.

"Nuit are undead abominations created through evil rituals. They cannot heal, do not age, and are very hard to kill. As their bodies decompose, they take the bodies of the dead." Horrible creatures.

He had to think on the second question. Before he could speak, the scenery had changed to a carriage. He had always wanted to steal one of these, but never found the time.

"My name is Ardan Ven'Ahad. I am originally from Sylrias, but have found a new, temporary home in Lhavit."

x

[Quint Caravel]

(OOC: Apologies, I somehow missed this one yesterday when I looked at my list of threads to post to. Sorry about that, I'm usually a faster poster.)(/ooc)

IC:

Quint listened to Ardan carefully. "Huh. I never knew that strange creatures like Nuits existed. They do sound like terrible abominations. Freaks of nature. I personally believe that when it's time to shuffle off your mortal coil, then that's it for you. You're never going to see Quint Caravel come back as some sort of ghost or zombie or Nuit or whatever."

He looked off to the side. "Because I knew one, once. A ghost, that is. The most tragic thing you'll ever see or want to see. I can see how Nuits and other such creatures are dangerous, but this thing was just purely pitiful. I can't even begin to describe it any other way."

He shook his head sadly, thinking about the memory. "Her name was Polissa. She had apparently been a big-shot in life, the wife of a rich politician somewhere. And while some ghosts apparently have deeply emotional goals such as avenging a murder or finding a lost love, Polissa was simply obsessed with finding her left earring. She just couldn't pass on without it. They weren't even heirlooms or her favorite pair... I just don't understand some people, I guess."

Quint admitted to having spent a few years in Syliras and so peppered Ardan with random questions about people and places they might have in common.

This went on for several bells and chimes until Quint suddenly stopped talking and leaned over, pointing down.

Quint glanced down at the floor of the carriage. "Huh, look at this. It's a 10-Miza coin. Here, take a look."

He gave Ardan the coin. It was unlike any currency Ardan had ever seen before as it pictured a man looking grumpy and sleeping on the front of it and a picture of some sort of amphitheater on the back of it.

"My grandfather used to work as a Minter in the Syliras mint. He would tell me stories about coins like this, which were mistakes that sometimes happened in the minting process. No process in perfect and now and then the coins at the very edges-- the ones at the very ends-- don't come out right, and they get distorted and discarded."

He shrugged. "Oh, what's that other place you mentioned? Lhavit? Where is that?"

[Ardan]

Ardan was about to answer, when the carriage stopped and three more men entered. One had extremely pale skin and bright red eyes, wearing a black robe. He smiled evilly as he sat next to Ardan. Another was a very old man with dark skin, a white robe, and perfect, blue eyes. He sat on the other side of the thief.The third looked exactly like Ardan in nearly every way except his beard was fuller and he had grey eyes. He took his seat next to Quint.

The old man smiled and answered for Ardan. "Lhavit is a beautiful city to the far east. We have made our home there."

"It's great, and ripe for thieving," added the pale man. He smiled, showing two fangs.

The third sat quietly, observing the others. Ardan knew these men, and wondered how they could possibly be there with them.

x

[Quint Caravel]

For once, Quint had nothing to say. He simply nodded. It sounded to him like Lhavit was indeed a beautiful place that he would someday desire to visit. Not today, but someday when he was able to afford travel so far away from where he was in Sunberth.

Then the three men entered. Quint nodded at them politely, not quite sure who they were or what was going on. However, as he was a thief himself he had no problem with any of them or what they were up to, so just sat in his place and waited for them to go to where ever they were going. Maybe they were going to rob someone or burgle something, and that was fine by him. He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt in the same way a hunter enjoyed chasing animals, but Quint preferred to match his wits against humans.

He made sure he had his tools with him in case he needed to pick a lock or anything else, but otherwise sat in the carriage and carefully watched the scenery around him. A good thief kept his mouth shut, and Quint wanted to be the best.