PM to join A Cure for What Ales You (Caelum)

[Hirem]

12th of Summer, 514 AV

Hirem's time in Riverfall had opened his eyes to a new world of colour.

For four years he had travelled the desert aimlessly, bereft of purpose. For four years, he had cast himself over and over again into the Burning Lands, hoping that one day it might just swallow him whole and end his story quickly. For four years, his existence had been coloured by dust, sorrow, and regret, and never once did he seek to ease his burden with a companion, with friends, or with family... for he had exiled himself from his people, and alienated all the rest. He would wake up in the morning and feel nothing but a hollow shell where his soul used to be; when he laid down for bed, that same hollowness had grown into an ocean within his tightening chest. And fear haunted both his waking hours and his restless sleep, fear of the past that threatened to flay his mind apart. He slept through nightmares and lived through daytime horrors, and never once wondered if there was perhaps a better use for him in the whole of Mizahar. For that was his place, and he was content to die there.

But Cyphrus, and Riverfall, changed all of that. The simple act of seeing grass in massive fields filled Hirem with a bizarre joy that all else thought was some form of madness, but in truth was a sense of relief that not everything in the world was filled with sand. And the sea - by Laviku, the sea! - so wonderfully blue and terribly frightening, and the very air was tinged sweetly from its presence! Hirem never wanted to step onto a boat in his life, but he thanked all the gods he knew that there was such a thing as the Suvan Sea. The city of Riverfall was a beacon of light that filled Hirem with a new sense of hope. Here, everything was possible: legends could be made, opportunity was everywhere, and the gods themselves came down just a bit closer for struggling mortal hands to reach. Though his time here had been marked by both good tidings and horrible developments - the fact that a thief, who had stolen from him, had become a begrudging acquaintance had been strange enough - the Benshira nonetheless felt overjoyed with the fact that he was alive, and that he was in this city, and that he was following in Yahal's footsteps.

Every night, after his evening exercise was done and he was ready to depart for bed, Hirem offered the same prayer to his beloved god: Father Yahal, blessed be the path that you have wrought, that has brought me to this city of wonders. I have been reborn in the fires of a new world, and it is only thanks to your guidance that I have survived long enough to stand here at all. I promise that I will never forget the lessons that you have taught me here, even as my path may one day lead me from this city to some other, strange destination. Though my road promises to be long, and it may be many years yet before I behold my beloved homeland again, I will remain thankful that I have embarked upon this journey at all. You are the all-seeing, all-knowing father of my existence, and I will strive to live every day in your image. So shall I pray. He meant every word of the prayer, for Hirem's life had not been better in almost nine full years.

But he was also deluding himself. For no matter how far he ran away from Eyktol, he would never truly be reborn while the lashes of his old life remained ingrained into his back.

By now, the Benshira had managed to establish a vague catalogue of the many nightly terrors that visited him in his sleep, and even if he did not remember the specific details of a dream, it didn't take much work to figure out which vision had ended up plaguing him. Tonight, as Hirem threw himself from his single bed with a hoarse cry screaming from his open lips, heart racing in his chest, the images of the nightmare proved particularly vivid, even in the dying light of the conscious realm. In his mind's eye, he saw the scene playing out exactly as it had first occurred; the whistle of an arrow through the dark. The mage at my side cries out in pain. Arrow slits through his throat. Blood oozing out, colourless in the dark of Hai. Mage writhing on the ground. Clutching at my arm. "Ulric," he wheezes. "Justice, and not mercy." Another arrow comes from the dark. Strikes me in the leg. Watch as blood oozes from me. Black as the bitterest night. Consumed by the darkness of Hai.

"Sir?" came the call from his open doorway, bringing the Benshira halfway into the realm of the living. Standing there, door ajar, was the Akalak tavern keeper Nystir, staring at him with an expression that looked shocked... for an Akalak. "You were screaming, sir? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" Hirem blurted out, a little too quickly to be genuine. Taken aback by the outburst, Nystir glanced downwards and looked pointedly at his tavern guest's arms. Following his gaze, the Benshira realized that his hands had gripped tightly round the other, squeezing until the knuckles were turning white and circulation was being cut off from the wrist upwards. "Oh." With a great deal of effort, Hirem finally managed to ease his hands open and release the stranglehold grip he had managed on himself, staring numbly at his shaking arms. He noted that the white scar from the tsana's jaws was fading more every day, and no longer stung him nearly so much when he applied direct pressure to it. Funny that this scar should heal so quickly when the wound that's still killing me hasn't even grown dry.

He needed help. And he didn't know where to get it.

Searching for the answer to his torments, Hirem - after Nystir excused himself back to the main tavern floor - attacked his scroll of welcome and busily scanned through the document for any references to a place of healing. It pains me to say it, but the Gilia cannot serve my purposes tonight. I need... something else. Finally, the Benshira stumbled upon a reference to the Psyche's Sanctum, a mental shelter within Riverfall that promised to cater to his needs. This should do nicely. Throwing on his tunic and breeches, Hirem prepared himself for a quick jaunt up the tiers of Riverfall to the very top of the city, where he might obtain entrance to this mysterious Psyche's Sanctum. He was just about to leave...

when his pride managed to catch up with him.

I... I cannot do this. He realized as he stood in the open hallway, his fists clenching at his sides. It made all the sense in the world for him to go, but something that defied logic stayed his hand. I cannot sit before another and admit that my mind is too fractured for me to repair. I am - I am stronger than this! I have to be stronger than this! Yahal makes me strong! Desperation made his heart fill with despair, and tears began to fill his reddening eyes. The strength sapping from his weary bones, the Benshira left his legs pitch forward underneath him, throwing him clumsily onto the ground. Uncaring of who in the tavern might hear him, Hirem opened his eyes and wept pathetically into the floor. I am not mad... I cannot be mad... I cannot have come so far and be mad! "Abarr," he whimpered to the empty air, calling out for his father - for Yahal - in Shiber. "Please help me... please help me..."

The Psyche's Sanctum was no option at all for him. So he had to get creative.

Standing before the tavern at an ungodly time of the night, Hirem grimly reflected on what a mess he must appear to be. It was obvious that he had been in some sort of distress: the top of his tunic was stained with tears and snot, and his eyes were completely bloodshot. This tavern, this Alements... this has to be of some help. I can purchase some healing tincture within, something that'll calm my spirit... that will be enough, hopefully, to cure me. The tavern didn't look closed just yet, although, judging by the lateness of the bell, the doors could probably become locked at any time. He must make his entrance now, then, or be barred access tonight. Sniffling quietly, the Benshira rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his tunic and entered Alements.

Once inside, he did not go out of his way to speak to anyone or introduce himself to the staff; in a daze, Hirem walked to a random table, sat down, and stared blearily at the menu. The words were swimming in his vision, for already another memory of the past was beginning to surface in this place of earth and fire. A burning brand was held in his hand, light exploding from its dying glare. "Back, you sinners!" He cried to the darkness, but the darkness responded with the hissing of shadows and of arrows.

Word Count :

1,565

[Caelum]

There was a great deal of light to be found inside Alements. It held the glow of hearthfires though there was no hearth lit in the sultry summer night. Candlelight glimmered off of copper veins cobwebbing through the ivory marble that topped the bar and the saturated, vivid colors of fire, earth, air, and water caught in depictions of the cycling sun caused the windows to glow. The shadows here were soft, velvet things that puddled beneath glossy leaves and were thrown by the gesturing hands of patrons deep in intimate conversation. There was no music at this late hour save for that of the waterfalls beyond the patio and dock outside, the constant sound of water a familiar backdrop to any long time denizen of Riverfall. A dark haired young woman was behind the bar, settling up with some of the night's final patrons. She was dressed simply but well, in light, emerald colored linen dress and a reserved smile. Elise was a quiet soul, though she had not been born that way. Chains had changed her, as they changed all they touched, fettered or brandished. Only the crudest person would mistake her for a slave now, bruises long since faded and even some of the worst of her physical scars healed by a pair of extremely talented healers. One of those healers was backing in through the tavern's front door, one hand raised in a wave of farewell to a delightfully soused couple departing the patio to amble arm in arm down the street and, ostensibly, home and to bed. The owner and proprietor was himself a unique man whose reputation within the Akalak's city had seeded and begun to grow as he time here stretched toward a year. He wore the skin of a Drykas with Leth's moon suspended above the waters, and it was sun burnished and heavily tattooed with a shockingly extensive collection of the windmark used to tell tales and mark significant events in the culture of the horse clans. The ink spilled down muscled arms bared by his short sleeved tunic and spun even about his right eye, radiating the bars of a sun that was never in the sky anymore when this face could gaze upon it. It hadn't been in over five hundred years. Footsteps scuffed to a halt, passing from smooth stone floor to a thick, russet rug Hirem's table perched upon, and Caelum peered down at the Benshira man. Tucked into the curve of one arm was a glazed cerulean blue pot that held a wilting chocolate coleus plant, all of its papery, broad leaves drizzling morosely down. He had hauled it in from outside upon realizing it required some help, and he intended to call upon his friend and pupil Lyn'nice for advice on whether or not it needed repotting. Her particular konti gift was inclined toward plants and soil and their overall success rate from what he understood of it. The leaves rustled softly in a breeze from the propped open door during a long minute of study. There was nothing unwelcoming or suspicious in the horselord's regard. Dark hair was braided tightly back in prayer knots that a man of faith required by the task master Yahal might find familiar, even comforting. There was, however, an intensity to his regard that could be disconcerting. There was no mistaking who he was looking at, and that in these moments he saw no other. "Know anything about plants?" He said in place of a standard greeting, and when Hirem looked up a wry smile curled over his mouth. An absent flick was given the green trimmed leaf. "Regardless, come on back with me. You can tell me what's ailing you and I'll fix you up something to drink, eh?" He paused, shifting his weight, and belatedly offered, "I'm Caelum. This is my place. What's your name?"

[Hirem]

He stumbled blindly through the dark, distanced from his companions by his own foolish missteps, tumbling over broken masonry and only narrowly avoiding the maw of deep pits. The Myrian and the enemy Benshira, they were lost to him now... taken by the boy that was as dark as the shadows that consumed him. He was the only one left now, surrounded by emptiness and the monsters that craved it. His feet blistered against the rough terrain; his hands flailed through the open air, hoping for some kind of steady purchase. Prayers to a long-revered god were quick to flee his lips, but that was the only thing certain about his travels - and doubt was starting to wear down his faith to only a bare glimmer of his once mighty resolve. He was lost in the darkness of the Prison, condemned to live and die here as one of its twisted charges-

Know anything about plants?

The question called to Hirem like a beacon through the fog, summoning him from the maze that he was trapped in. The voice that spoke to him now - a man's voice, though tinged with softness - picked him up as if he was a small child and carried him smoothly from the black and twisting sea of memory to the refuge of the shore. Breaking free of his reverie, the Benshira blinked away the fading shadows of Hai from his vision, once more taking into stock the surrounding tavern. At first, Hirem looked at this place and thought of nothing but the prison - but in truth, the interior of Alements did not resemble the dread city of Hai in the slightest. In fact, it was an appreciable design that he was sure that, if he were in his regular state of mind, he would have greatly enjoyed taking in. Plenty of light, soft ambiance, delightful staff... it was a shame that Hirem had not seen fit to step in here until a frenzy had shattered what composure he managed to attain over the past few weeks.

His hands, unknowingly, had clenched themselves into tight fists that were placed firmly on the tabletop, rattling the wood softly with the intensity of their death grip. Hirem uncurled them and placed them back onto his lap. Slowly, he turned his gaze from the abstract scenery to the very distinct man that now towered above him, looking down intently from on high. At first, he didn't know what to make of this mystery man - the swirling marks on his flesh, contrasting against his pale skin, defied explanation. Eventually, though, Hirem managed to identify the man's race. Those tattoos... the horselords of the grass sea call them windmarks. This must be a Drykas, of all the people that might have stumbled upon me today. When the Benshira considered his own knowledge of Cyphrus, it was perhaps the Drykas society that he was most informed about. His father had taught him a little of their lifestyle, their culture, and their values. Drykas are born of the wind, my son, he had said. Nothing of the earth can tie them down. They live forever free on the rising breeze. Take care not to offend them, for you can never truly understand what they will hold dear, and fight to protect.

Realizing that he had not yet answered this man - Caelum - but was instead staring dumbly at his windmarks, Hirem glanced upwards and connected his tormented gaze with the Drykas' intense one. "My name is Hirem," he began, the name feeling soft and uncertain in his mouth. Hirem is the name of the strong, the valorous, the great... I am not worthy of the honor of sharing that title. "Hirem, from the tents of Alachi, of the sons of Rapa." Saying the traditional greeting gave him some comfort, allowing him to draw strength from the immutable foundations of his people's culture. He glanced over to the backroom door of Alements, wondering what he would find awaiting him there. Is there such a thing as a cure for my malady? Can I find it here? Or am I only wasting time and money here, gambling with a charlatan of a healer? An old well of Benshira mistrust arose within him, causing him to look dark for a few moments, his fists tightening at his sides. This is ridiculous. I cannot be so foolish as to trust some Rakva to mend my fractured mind. He will only try to abuse it. Hirem was prepared to stand up and push his way out of the tavern...

but instead relented, and nodded softly. "I know nothing of plants, sadly, but I would appreciate the help. My night has been - difficult."

Following Caelum softly, trying to straighten his disheveled appearance and rub away what remained of the tears on his cheek and nose, Hirem considered what on earth he could definitively say was the problem with him. I have been near the House of Mercy in Yahebah, and seen all kinds of ailments there. I have walked through the Pillars of Dust, and have witnessed insanity of all sorts lurking in the shadows. I have been in Hai itself, and looked upon the face of madness... yet I don't know what's afflicting me. Perhaps this is some sort of curse I have been bestowed with, after stepping into that haunted prison? Figuring that the best thing to do would be to simply describe his symptoms, he cleared his throat and spoke quietly to the Drykas as they ventured into the back room. "I am not suffering from an illness of the body, but instead a sickness of the mind. I am plagued nightly with dreams that I have experienced - or lived - before. I am always growing tense at the thought of these dreams, or of what they allude to. Always, I feel in danger, even if there is nothing present to threaten. It is like I am... trapped in some darkness, and cannot work my way free. If I manage to free myself for an afternoon, I am guaranteed to return in the evening. It's a maze that I cannot figure out."

Word Count :

1,026

[Caelum]

"Any son of Rapa is welcome at my table." The hospitality that was the foundation of Caelum's reply came easily to his tongue. He knew a little about the Benshira and their customs, but he had managed in his short years back in the world to acquire a somewhat more broad knowledge of their culture due to associated subjects. He was particularly fond of the desert dwellers' very serious take on hospitality, though he had never quite been sure he understood all of its rules. His smile failed to waver as Hirem rose and he realized the degree of the man's dishevelment. Concern crept into his eyes and he shifted the potted coleus plant in his arms before stepping back toward the kitchen door. Wordlessly, he tugged a clean handkerchief from the pocket of low slung leather trousers and offered it to his guest. It was soft worn linen of durable quality as it appeared to have been washed a number of times. A simple sun bar pattern decorated one corner in faded blue thread. He waited for Hirem to take it before ambling his way into the kitchen and catching Elise's eye with a quick exchange of speaking glances. The wooden door swung shut behind them and the proprietor aimed himself at the long wooden table that doubled as kitchen island and a terribly casual catch-all table. The wilting coleus plant was set down on the end. While Hirem described his ailments, Caelum worked in silence. An air of easy competence surrounded the drykas as he rinsed his hands at the stone bottomed sink and moved adroitly through the fully stocked kitchen. The hearth was large and wide, though currently cold, the pot dangling from a heavy iron bar empty. An array of bread loaves littered the counter, cooling while they scented the air with yeast. They were Elise's handiwork, not Caelum's, though he was trying to learn more about meal preparation. A pewter plate was lifted from a short stack and onto it he arranged slices of peaches and apples and then poured out a hand's measurement of precious almonds. A small, pretty glass bowl received a dollop of honey and a matching one a few slabs of butter. Three separate cheeses were added to the plate and, finally, he stole one of the cooling bread loves and sliced off a few thick servings. All of this he set on the table in front of Hirem when turning back to the man. His eyes rose even as he leaned back and delivered an absent kick to the low stool closest to where the Benshira stood. It was a silent invitation for him to sit, to eat, and to make himself at home in this water-filled city far from the desert sands. "Have you suffered a trauma recently?" He asked without preamble. An apple slice was stolen from the plate -- apparently the food was meant for sharing -- and he popped it into his mouth to chew thoughtfully. Gold flecked eyes resumed their study of Hirem and he, with exquisite care, gave a mental touch to a door inside of himself so as to allow the current of Nikali's divine ranuri to seep through and into him. "And I hope you drink, because the tonic I'm about to fix you is going to be a strong one." White teeth flashed in a grin. It was impossibly charming.

[Hirem]

"Any son of Rapa is welcome at my table."

Those were words Hirem had not heard in a lifetime. More than that, those were words that he had never dreamed to hear again, self-exiled as he was from the land of his birth. The word "Rapa" meant nothing to these northern folk; their greetings were short and sweet, excluding lineage entirely from the proceedings. It was a strange custom to introduce oneself by just the given name, but he had been quick to accept this as the style of Cyphrus and the other green realms... lending further confusion as to why this horselord used the phrase so familiarly. He did a double take towards his peculiar host, wondering where on earth he might have heard the greeting before. I have met many strange men in this city of the Akalak, but this healer might count as the oddest of them all.

Yet, I cannot help but be comforted by him. Even now, just following the Drykas obediently into the back room, the Benshira felt the panic in his heart subside, the nightmares of his past dispelled by the warmth of the tavern's atmosphere. He no longer felt afraid, cold, or alone... the hospitality of the Alements returned him to a more pleasant time. The horselord had offered him a handkerchief, for gods' sake! It was such an appreciated change from the "live fierce, spurn help" attitude of Riverfall that Hirem could only grow to like the healer more and more. He accepted the gift graciously, wiping the cloth messily against his cheeks, nose, and eyes, crumpling it tighter and tighter in his hand until it was a sticky ball of snot, stained fabric, and dirt.

In his mind's eye, he was no longer standing in a Rivarian tavern, being led by a curious Drykas into the back room for a cure to his shameful illness. Instead he was back home in the Burning Lands, breaking bread with a company of strangers. He had spotted their campfires in the distance, had ventured closer for a second look, and they had welcomed him to supper without a second thought. Their faces and names were unfamiliar to him - but the traditions they kept, the stories they shared, the god they worshipped? Though he was only meeting them for the first time, Hirem could rest easy and be assured that he was among friends, among kinsmen. They were a family, unified despite the desert striving to break them apart. That is what being a Benshira means... That is what being an Eyktolian is about.

He felt a sudden pang of homesickness overtake him then, weakening both his knees and his resolve. I know this healer means well, but his draughts will not fill the void in my soul. They will only offer comforts in the absence of a home that I have grown to love. Hirem longed to be rid of Riverfall - of the rest of Mizahar - just so that he could return to his cherished Eyktol. But, at the same time, return was impossible. The wounds I have sought to cure have not been healed yet. The mission I set out to undertake, is not finished yet. There is so much more about this world that I must yet discover. A premature return to my home would only insult the path that Yahal has created for me... No, I cannot travel back to the desert for many years yet. Until then, I must content myself with medicines.

Following the horselord dutifully into the back room, Hirem stared at the man, impressed, as he prepared - for the nomad that was used to sparse eating - a feast in front of them. The Benshira debated for just a few moments on the merits of turning down this generous offer, but the growing pains in his stomach silenced him before he could even speak. Sitting down wordlessly at the table, Hirem stared at the diverse meal in front of him, wondering where he should start. Honey, cheese, fruit: all luxuries I've not been able to afford for years. He knew he must look a great fool to the Drykas, gawking at these foods that were readily available in the northern regions. Finally, he decided his best course was to simply start with what looked delicious and work from there.

What happened next was an unparalleled massacre.

By the time the Benshira finally finished eating, he was a mess. Butter was thick on his fingertips and greasing on his palms, honey dribbled into his beard and hardening there. Bread crumbs littered the plate in front of him. Stripped apple cores lay fallen on the table, joined by decimated peaches. His breath stank of cheese. When he had first started the meal, his manners hadn't been so crude... but with every bite proving to be a balm to his tormented spirits, his hunger only grew and grew and grew. He ate as if he might never see food again. The horselord's question almost went unnoticed by the Benshira... almost.

"A trauma?" Hirem asked, wiping off his bottom lip and straining to understand what "trauma" meant in Common. Is it pain this Caelum is speaking of? For there is almost too much pain to speak of, let alone distinguish as the great ailment. But the more Hirem thought about it, the more he realized that there was only one answer to this question. Swallowing his food, Hirem took a deep breath. "There are places in this world so terrible that even taking a single step into their domain will scar a soul for life... I know not how much you understand of the desert, but in Eyktol, there is only one realm that fits this description. It is a prison of the spirit as well as the body. And... I was unlucky enough to venture it's twisted haunts. That is what started these terrors of mine." Just describing his pains was agonizing, in and of itself. He could barely speak by the time he had answered the question.

Caelum's second question worried Hirem. "I am afraid... that I do not drink. Never had the opportunity. Should I start to panic?"

Word Count :

1,036

[Caelum]

For a little while, Caelum just watched him eat. On anyone else, it would have been weird. Yet he just slumped back against the counter, arms folded over his chest and it was somehow fine. Caelum had the quality about him, managing to both startle and put people at ease in the same turn. Right now his head was tilted a little to the side and he wore the strangest expression, as if in the hungry and beleaguered Benshira he had found an unexpectedly familiar face. It was the face of the lost. Since the terror of the Valterrian and the great wounds it had inflicted upon both Mizahar and the Ukalas, the beloved of Syna and Leth had wandered what was to them a desert as unforgiving as Ekytol's when compared to the neighboring realms of their gods. In the earliest hours, when the world was slathered in darkness and the sun and moon were retreated in hiding, tending their wounds of heart and body, the ethaefal plummeted into the waters of the new Suvan Sea and died in droves. The first water was black, and then it was red, and by the time the dawn returned it was tinged pink washing along all of the broken shores. The camaraderie of the their existence outside of the cycle of life and death was so much rubble along the tide line. Nikali looked up from the bottom of him, her mirror mask glittering in the great shadow that was cast by the sun of his soul. Warmth and knowledge breathed through him and he exhaled slowly through his nostrils. Hirem wanted to knock the dust of this place away from him, but it wasn't so much for the dirt as it was not the earth of the place he desired. It wasn't home. Caelum shifted, head bowing, and dark hair veiled half his face and the vulnerability accidentally revealed. Eventually he unraveled himself, stirring to slice up an apple and add a small container of peanut butter and some bright yellow cheese. These things he placed unobtrusively onto HIrem's plate even as he devoured what was already before him. Caelum would feed him and feed him and feed him until he wished for no more. When Hirem looked up, sober eyes met his. "You're referring to Hai," he stated, but the end lilted up. It was at least half a question. Without warning, he laughed. The sound crawled out of him like a hearth fire and he turned out his hands, calloused and scarred. The ink of his kuvan tattoo flashed against the inside of his left wrist, and Rak'keli's golden opal snakes winged their way over the back of his right hand. "No, no. Don't panic. Please, eat. I will make this drink and something for me and be right back." He gestured, elegant rather than awkward, for the Benshira to make himself at home before slipping out the swinging down to gather his ingredients. Pitchers and bottles and carafes of varying sizes were trayed up along with the fresh plucking of a few leaves, the snip of a root leg, and the snatching of a powder filled vial. The end result was what appeared to be a sorcerous array, an armful of curiosities that he carried with him back into the kitchen to set on the table across from Hirem. A stool of his own was then kicked out and he dropped down, matter of fact, and rolled up his sleeves. "So tell me what a son of Rapa was doing in dead Hazahdar?" He looked at his guest most intently. "And, more importantly, how did you get out?"

[Lyn'nice]

Lyn'nice had been strolling aimlessly as she often did. Except now her rests came more frequently and lasted longer. Even at night she found this city beautiful. Returning to her aimless wander she found it had led her to Caelum's door. Strange how things tended to work out like this. She hesitated briefly before entering. After all she didn't want to be a pregnant nuisance to her mentor... Maybe she'd a spell and then help with some chores. With a grin she opened the door and was immediately immersed in the wonderful aroma of herbs and spices. It always made her think of tea with cloves. The entire building gave off that body warming sensation and comfort just like drinking tea heavy with cloves. She loved it and the sensation never grew old. She'd have to find that one tea blend and share it with Caelum or have it served here. Lyn'nice sighed with contentment. "Burning the midnight oil I see, Caelum." Lyn'nice flashed her bubbly smile and sat down in a chair only to make a discovery,"Yeah, I may have picked a bad seat. Might need some help getting back on my feet... But, we'll worry when I want to get up." The now stuck Konti made herself comfortable, "Who's your friend? Hi Caelum's friend! My name's Lyn'nice and I'm stuck in a chair." She found amusement in her inability to get out of said chair's death grip on her rear. Gravity was laughing at her also. She looked at the man Caelum sat by and the longer she looked the more she picked up on. It was a Konti thing..."Something is giving you quite the trouble sir. I can feel it from here."

[Hirem]

Hirem didn't know what it was about Caelum.

He didn't know if it was the man's comely looks, his exceedingly relaxed demeanor, the brightness of his smile or the intensity of his gaze that made his own panicked mind feel at ease, and his wounded heart become healed. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that the man was a trained healer and had come to him in an hour of need that affected him so, or whether the impact was more keenly felt thanks to the horselord's surprising understanding of Benshira culture. Gods, it might just be because he seems intent on continually feeding me. It's possibly the kindest gesture I've received in almost two years. Hirem had grown wary of men that smiled overmuch and had confidence in the invulnerability of their own charm; such men had run rampant throughout Ahnatep's streets and had drawn only his ire in all of his experiences with them.

Caelum, on the other hand, was different - Hirem felt nothing but peace in his presence. Earlier, he had believed that it was thanks to the atmosphere of the tavern, of this wonderful place of healing, that his nighttime worries were fading into nothingness. But as he sat there staring at the Drykas, finished explaining his worries, he realized that he was wrong: it was Caelum that had erased his nightmares from the light of day. Everything else in the tavern that helped to comfort the troubled Benshira - the food, the lighting, the medicine - radiated from him like the rays of brilliant Syna. Just sititng and talking with the man made Hirem want to divulge all of his secrets to him, made him want to confess every single worry that had ever disturbed his sleep in thirty years of life. No - it wasn't a want. It was a need. The dark troubles that Hirem sheltered within him were now struggling to be free, clawing and scratching fiercely at their prison in a race to be exhumed from the recesses of his heart.

... Which struck him as a little odd. Usually I am content to let my history be unknown. I have already been shamed by it thrice over, there is often no need for me to explain it to others. When he did feel that he had to explain some elements of his past, he alluded to events rather than specified on them, and buried some truths altogether under an iron wall of conviction. I will never lie about what I have done and who I am, for such is not the way of Yahal, but at the same time some details are better left unsaid.The words, I once dreamed to slaughter Eypharians en masse, would never slide easily from his throat, he had thought. But those very same words were now clawing their way into his mouth and were ready to leap off his tongue, summoned forth by the maddeningly affable personality of Caelum. Why am I so eager to speak to him of these deeds long buried?

It was soon made apparent to Hirem that it mattered not whether he shared his secrets with Caelum or kept them locked within; the man was going to find out eventually. "You're referring to Hai," He said, drawing a sudden intent gaze from the Benshira. Hai? He knows of the ruined city? It's common knowledge in Eyktol, but... The thought actually filled Hirem with a sense of relief, and he continued to ponder over the revelation that Hai was known to desert outsiders even as Caelum departed to prepare the medicine. If the prison's reputation is known outside of the walls of Yahebah and Ahnatep, then my people might not have to stand alone against the darkness within it! Should Hai ever fall into ruin, the monsters within crawling out in droves, and the combined forces of Yahalmen and Jackals unable to combat them... we might be able to find help from Cyphrus, Syliras, and who knows what else!

When Caelum returned, he understandably had questions on the mind: "So tell me what a son of Rapa was doing in dead Hazahdar? And, more importantly, how did you get out?" Bowing his head, Hirem knew that if the positions were reversed and he was the healer looking after the traumatized Drykas, he would asking the exact same questions. Making it all the harder to resist divulging my past. Breathing out a sigh of frustration, the Benshira bowed his head and closed his eyes. He really didn't want to speak, but that same infuriating desire to share his history with Caelum was compelling him to talk anyway. There cannot be any harm in sharing at least a bit of the story with the healer, he decided. I already relive the journey in my mind every night, so it's not as if I stand to accidentally resurrect Hai's ghosts. When he was ready to speak, Hirem gave a low shudder and opened his eyes, staring intently into Caelum's.

"Would it surprise you to learn that I might have been sent to Hai as a prisoner?" He began, speaking quietly, his voice filed with regret. "I had been loaded onto a cart and was bound for the ruined city, when my salvation arrived by happenstance. In the end, I was spared only thanks to the mercy of a man that I had been trying to kill." Bitterly, he looked away from the Drykas, wondering what the healer thought of him now. Does he regret all the food that he's wasted on me, the attention he's lavished upon this unpunished criminal? Undeterred in his efforts to speak, the Benshira shook his head. "I stepped into Hai just two seasons later, at the bidding of a Yaheban mage. He had sensed the wards in the city growing faint, and urged myself and a company of others to join him on a quest to repair the damage."

"What followed was a slaughter." A grimace came across his features then, his eyes filled with sorrow and pain. The scars of the damnable prison would be forever etched into him, carving wounds in his heart that would never truly heal. "The mage didn't last a bell within the prison. Other members of my company fell shortly afterward. Only two of us survived the quest: me, and a Myrian woman named Siiri. It was only thanks to her skill with a sword that I live to tell the tale now. She is the most powerful warrior that I have ever known, and ever will have privilege of knowing." He sighed, knowing that he was getting off-topic. "We managed to restore the magical wards within the city, unbelievably. But the dark forces that had awoken in the depths of Hai were... not so easily put back to sleep."

Now came the most difficult part of the story: the part where he had to deny information to the horselord. "I'm sorry, Caelum; I would like to tell you how I got out of the prison city, you more than anyone else alive. But I - that is -" He took a deep breath, wondering why it was so frustratingly difficult to remain tight-lipped around the healer. The man radiated trustworthiness. "I swore a vow that I would never reveal the method by which I escaped Hai to anyone, no matter if they were a foe or an ally." He finally explained. "I do not believe that you would use the secret for nefarious means, believe me. But it is best kept if it dies with Siiri and I, and left to be buried in the shifting desert sands." He nodded slowly, hoping that Caelum understood. "The consequences of the wrong person hearing of the escape route would be - "

The door opened then, revealing the most curious woman that Hirem had ever set eyes upon.

For one, the woman - a girl, really - was noticeably pregnant. Noticeable, as in she would have obvious difficulties just getting up and sitting down again in the same breath. Yet she did so anyway, without taking a moment to consider the awful mistake, loudly berating herself afterwards for the mess-up. His eyes could not have widened more at the arrival of this strange girl, his brow arching considerably. She is breathless with energy, yet is carrying a child inside of her... is she even old enough to nurse a healthy infant? And what is that strange material on her skin...? He didn't take the time to analyze the rest of her: his attention was singularly focused on her belly and her violet eyes. "Uh," he began, unsure of how best to answer the manic question. "I am Hirem, from the tents of Alachi, of the sons of Rapa. And I was dealing with some trouble, yes," he remarked, unsure of how exactly she could feel his distress. "But Caelum is helping me overcome it."

"Are you two...?" The Benshira trailed off, unsure of what their relationship was. Finally, he shook his head and offered a tired smile to Caelum. "Ah, forgive me. I have left my manners in the desert. Congratulations on becoming a father, friend!" Then, turning to Lyn'nice, he bowed his head in respect to the young mother. "May your child live well and be happy, may their road be long and prosperous, and may Yahal forevermore watch after them!"

Word Count :

1,637

[Caelum]

Caelum listened to Hirem's story with increasing interest. It was a wonder what manner of men happened to occasion upon him now and again. He had never met anyone who had been to Hai and, for the very obvious reasons, never imagined he would either. The tale of it he had learned from a man who had almost been, there now but for the grace of the gods that had spared him; and Caelum did not fail to acknowledge the juxtaposition tonight. After a little while, he dropped his eyes to the ingredients laid out before him. With a deft skill hard won since Nikali had marked him, Caelum snapped his mind into two pieces. While Hirem spoke of magical wards and the Myrian who had saved him, one piece of the dreamer's mind listened and cataloged all of the fascinating pieces of information. The fact that there even existed a way out of Hai was in and of itself a prized thing. The other half of Caelum's mind was focused on crafting Hirem's medicine. He examined the finer points of ranuri, running magical fingers down the bones of Hirem's desires as a blind man might the face of a longed for friend. Homesickness called for a sprig of rosemary that he twirled between his fingers before pinching them down the narrow stem. The aromatic needles spilled into the bottom of a heavy glass tumbler before he set the denuded twig aside. A splash of steaming hot water from the tea kettle went next, promptly increasing the aroma of the common kitchen herb. Peace with those conjured memories was trickier and his hand hovered over one bottle before before bypassing it entirely to lift a long, clear glass tube. Inside was a carefully preserved tuber root that the healer tapped only half an inch out and onto his ashwood cutting board. Taking up a sharp knife, he cut a piece off and used the flat end of the blade to smash it. It was calgonquit, a rare but exceedingly useful herb that he had managed to acquire. The mashed portion was promptly sliced into narrow slivers and added to the glass. Poison bright petals, a fine yellow powder, and three drops of citrus scented oil were added in swift succession. A tiny spoon was used to whisk the concoction and he ultimately strained the tea into a shot glass. He left enough room to top it off with a goodly dose from a little metal carafe that smelled strongly of distilled alcohol. It was, in fact, degtine, an almost extinct liquor from doomed Denval. The result was a dark, bitter smelling concoction that Caelum placed in front of Hirem even as Lyn'nice bustled into the kitchen and plopped into the chair next to him. "I understand that you must keep your promise, Hirem," he said gently. He understood about promises, and how they were meant to be kept. There was something troubled in the backs of his eyes however, a lingering shadow that niggled and thwarted. "I believe I know exactly what is wrong with you." He cast a weary smile to Lyn'nice, charmed by her easy humor and ability to laugh at herself. Without thinking about it, he began to mix a drink for her as well from his tray, selecting sweeter ingredients in addition to those that would offer her the most nutrition for her and her child. "You're right, Lyn. Hirem has a great deal troubling him. Here, tell if this is too sweet or not --" He poured a splash of the mixture into a glass and set it in front of Lyn'nice to test before he continued. "I believe he -- you --" And here dark eyes returned to Hirem. Their shadows dispersed and he smiled slowly instead. It was a reassuring expression. "Are suffering from a malady that is fairly common among people who have undergone great traumas. Night terrors, paranoia, often uncontrollable emotions, debilitating headaches, and more are all symptoms of extreme stress. The state of the mind takes a toll on the body, Hirem. Please, drink that. It will help for awhile, and we'll come up with a way to cure you." His smile crooked sideways. "I promise." Then Hirem was congratulating him on being a father and Caelum blinked bemusedly back and forth between him and Lyn'nice. He scoffed softly in the back of his throat and shook his head in shared humor with his apprentice. "Hirem, this is Lyn'nice, my apprentice." The introduction was performed good naturedly. "Lyn'nice, my new friend, Hirem. I'm afraid I don't have that honor, Hirem. Lyn'nice is a voluntary nakivak."

[Lyn'nice]

Looking at Caelum's face as he was congratulated made Lyn'nice bubble over with laughter. "Well, I am sorta foster mothering his own daughter and seeing as my Talvas is gone.. Sure, Caelum can have the father's honor. Besides I study under him so this child will be seeing a lot of him. While the child won't call him daddy, I'm sure he'll become a father figure to my offspring in no time." It was the truth. She studied under Caelum and once the baby was born she'd still be studying with infant in tow. She assumed the child would take to Caelum as Lillian had taken to her and when it came down to it there was no one Lyn'nice felt more comfortable leaving her child with than her mentor. Perhaps her son would be more a gentleman with Caelum's influence than with his birth father if he ever returned. "Oh speaking of Lillian, she had a bad dream. I went in and told her stories until she fell back asleep. Hope you don't mind... I wasn't sure how you would of handled that. But, my droning on and on about treasures and sunken cities seemed to work." Lyn'nice smiled it wasn't bubbly, just content. She took hold of the glass placed in front of her and without hesitation took a sip moving the glass away from her lips she stopped as if going over the taste. She looked at the glass and at the colors inside, "Ooh this is good! You should put it on the menu!" Even though she sipped her drink the glass was soon empty. Lyn'nice leaned forward to get a look at the mixture, however she deemed she was not close enough and after a minor struggle freed herself from the chair and wandered to Caelum's side watching and listening. Until she realized, "I forgot to shake your hand, sir. I'm a Konti, one of the white seers of Mura... Ecept I'm not much good with seeing... I'm better with plants and healing, although I can read tea leaves." She added proudly. "Don't worry, Caelum's the best, he'll fix you right up!" She hoped to calm this man's nerves, as Konti were peaceful creatures.