down the last road.

[Caelum]

If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together. - E. Sheeran. Beloved, Spring waits with a whip at the end of winter. I can feel the cruel preparations of the earth below my feet and hear the trebeling quiet of expectation in the slow of snow melts. Morwen can hear him coming, and I can hear you drawing in breath from Tavasi's lungs to burn on a new warmed horizon. You exhale and light my life on fire. Again.

[Caelum]

Timestamp: 90 Winter 513 AV There ought to have been nothing in Riverfall's port to startle Caelum in the slow growth of morning. It was a sight familar to him as his bones, one that swelled in size with his commute into the city proper to handle the business of Alements and other sundry occupations when duty drew him out from behind the Sanctuary's walls. At a distance the sea gate was unchanged and the cluster of ships both in port and anchored in the deeper waters well beyond the tumble of the waterfall was unremarkable. Perhaps the problem was that Caelum's attention was too settled in the east, an integral part of him still performing silent worships in these earliest hours of day. Or maybe he was not supposed to remember the black masted brigatine with its bannered sails and a true Zeltivan loop that bobbed in the Suvan, at once belonging with the other large vessels and utterly and completely out of place when set up in contrast to the skyline of Caelum's memory. Hanged Fate was home to a dead man in those pits of the ethaefal's past. * * * A whistle sharpened the night from above, the clank of the hoist jerking up Diarmid's chin so that he could glower at the starboard rail. Curses tumbled from his mouth as he watched his captain, arm still in sling, signal a scrub rat ready the throw lines. Out of the pearl fog had long since loomed the rounded hull of their target vessel, the surrounding water throwing back echoes and booms of deck hand calls. Captain Bruin stood with lips pursed watching as the ship lulled, as the respective mates exchanged flashes of tattered flags and the man they had come all this way to meet, braving storms and degtine soaked fables of giant squid, prepared to come aboard. It was widely accepted that a captain who consented to parley on another captain's deck was the lesser, the beggar and certainly not the wronged. This cold morning Captain Bruin stood with his boots planted firm as red oak roots on his own deck and knew damned well, right down to the dregs of his rotted soul, that Caius Delucia of Hanged Fate was conceding absolutely nothing by coming aboard. An agent of Rhysol offered over their upper hand only when their lower lied in wait. * * * The sun continued its slow ascent on the opposite edge of the world, but Caelum had drawn to a visceral halt in the middle of the eddy and flow of the city street. It was impossible for color to fail him in the daylight, but it tried and light gasped not unlike a candleflame in his eyes. He might have stood there until noon had not a young courier bumped his shoulder in passing and uttered a hasty apology before tearing off around a corner of the cliff. It stumbled the ethaefal a step, forcing him to blink and break the image of the ship from his mind. Silently shoving a metaphysical hand over the song of ranuri sparking within him from the jostle, Caelum carved a turn and rolled into an earth devouring stride for four walls and a door he could lock behind him. He was halfway to Alements when he realized that to protect himself and his ambitions he needed to investigate rather than hide.

[Kavala]

Kavala had promised Caelum a dock proper and that's what she was giving him. Once, such work would have taken a season and taxed her, but now stone was her friend and it flowed from her fingers deeper and more powerful than any of the other elements she commanded. It started with a plunge, a slip off the edge into the plunge pool. She'd swam deep, for even though Alements was at the edge of the water and above it, the depths of the harbor was far more than most people understood. There, in the silt and muck of the stirred up cauldron that formed Riverfall's bay, she called to her power.

Pylons of stone rose from her res, answering her call from the very bedrock of the plunge pool. She coaxed them, all six, higher as the djed fueled res slipped from her body and poured forth effort out into stretching and forming the anchor the Alement's dock would rest upon. She sung them out of the sea like only a mage tuned to stone could, and once they broke surface and rode above the high tide and level with the Alement's front entrance, Kavala coaxed stone outward, linking the pylons with a sturdy platform that briefly stretched out into the bay. People stared as she worked, a crowd gathering because she did so publicly and with the full permission of the Housing Authority. Caelum had bought and signed for the building permit himself. Kavala was just the instrument of its execution. She matched the stone to what was found on the face of the cliff, translating the patterns there into the patterns on what would become the covered deck and dock. Stone cleats of a contrasting color were added, allowing a place for the three ships the dock would accommodate to tie up.

The stone whispered to her as she worked, seducing her, calling to her to bring forth more of it, to make it thicker, to add patterns and shape. She treated it as sentient, feeling the loving subduction of her art as she wielded the power to bring into existence that which Caelum willed.

She paced the length of the new dock, scanning sideways, feeling the rock beneath her feet with her power. It would always slightly sing to her, calling her name and claiming her as its mistress because it was formed of her power. But it would never own her... not like she owned it.

She slipped off the dock one more time, sliding into the water in a sundress that was soaked through and through. She checked the bottom, the way the stone fit together with the pylons and with her mind calculated the strength of the material with ships tugging at it, moving with the currents and tides. It was thick, strong, and like her spirit it would endure.

Kavala climbed from the water, forming handholds of a ladder along one of the pylons as she did so. Then as an afterthought because they all had children, she dove back in and made similar ladders on all six. A railing was added to the section that would not serve as dock but would serve more as a deck to the people inhabiting Alements and spilling out onto the street as the city heated up or cooled down in the summer.

Then she knelt in the doorway, laid her hands on the freshly formed stone, and willed more res into being, shooting support columns into the sky which then arched overhead, adding partial cover down the whole length of the part of the cliff Caelum owned. There would be shade in summer, and shelter in the winter, but both being tall enough to not block out light spilling through the pseudo stained glass windows that Kavala had already wrought.

When the child of Leth returned, he'd find the Konti still on her knees as if in subjugation to the very stone itself. She was soaked, her hair matted, but the work was done. When he'd walked away there had been only a small road leading around the cliff giving access to his building. Now there was a dock and a deck, some of which was covered, welcoming all kinds of patrons to enjoy the little slice of peace he was carving out of the world.

[Caelum]

The sight of Kavala kneeling in the doorway triggered a burst of relief that left Caelum’s wonder lingering in the aftermath. The dock and patio, magically crafted in a matter of hours to expand the beauty and utility of his real estate, was gazed upon with a flummoxed expression. There was a drastic juxtaposition between Caelum’s delight at Alement’s latest addition and his bone gnawing anxiety over the Hanged Fate. It left him a little light headed in winter’s paling sun and his steps slowed markedly after he rounded the corner that led to Alements. The gratitude he felt toward his friend for creating this for him with magic of her own self would have overwhelmed Caelum on a different day, one where the threat of his past’s blackest hours replaying themselves was not anchored in the bay. Instead he forgot entirely to voice it and had not time to study and linger with admiration over the details. Doubtless, he would realize his error later and seek out a way to make it up to Kavala. As it was, his slowed steps regained speed to cross the distance, boots clipping against the fresh made stone of the patio. One hand caught the doorframe, long fingers curving with unexpected strength to hold onto that sturdy piece of construction, and the rest of him dropped into a crouch in front of Kavala as the magic surrounding them shimmered and slowed in the sunlight. Sparks caught off the curve of his horns, winter’s forest green beginning its transformation into spring’s mint and peach blush. Pale brown hair was also caught in mid-shift, gold and blond ripening through it. Perhaps it was little wonder that he tended to stick the plainer styles of clothing and unassuming colors such as blacks and browns and creams. It was with ill-concealed impatience that he waited for Kavala to meet his eyes, for the magic to still and silence, and when breathtaking blue eyes found his, he said, “I need back-up.” His eyebrows rose with significance and he shoved right back up to his feet. One hand was thrust down at her in an automatic offer to assist Kavala to her feet in the immediate wake of spell craft and he half turned toward the water. His free hand gesture and ultimately pointed, stabbing a finger in the direction of the black masted brigantine whose tiered sails were expertly reefed. From this distance, the harsh looping letters on the high end of the hull were impossible to make out; but Caelum knew what they said. He did not even require Syna’s blessing to see it. It was diamond clear in his mind’s eyes, emblazoned on his memory until even his chavi was seared. “The Hanged Fate,” he named the ship for his friend, his trust in her hard won and revelatory today. “It’s a merchant ship captained by a man named Caius Delucia out of Ravok.” Golden eyes tore themselves from the ship to peer down at Kavala. “He was my jailer. For years. It’s part of that long damned story you and I have never quite gone into. He is a very, very dangerous man and I need to find out what he’s doing in Riverfall and whether or not it has anything to do with me.” There was something terribly grim in the healer’s expression, held tight and hard as old wounds reopening deep inside of him. “He could just be here on standard, above-board business, but I can’t risk finding out otherwise later knowing I could have stopped something.”

[Kavala]

Kavala was lost in the song of stone. That was the problem with being a first rate Geomancer. The work you did sung to you and called to you and became a living breathing thing under your touch. She kept her hands on the stone long after she should have, kneeling there listening to its voice. Kavala didn’t even hear Caelum’s approach, not really, nor did she pay any mind to the occasional onlookers in the streets above or from the harbor that had watched her build the dock. Riverfall was no stranger to magic and certainly no stranger to magical construction. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t interesting. She just wished the people who could see it take shape could also hear it sing.

Even still, when he knelt before her and caught her eyes, it took her a long breath or perhaps two to really see him. Pale blue eyes met his warm golden gaze and she looked into eternity longer than she cared too. Caelum’s orbs were hard to meet at times, and this moment was no exception. He was guarded with his emotion on a tight leash. Kavala could always tell when he was tense because the gold of his gaze took on a liquid quality that tend to ebb and flow like water would despite the colors claiming no relation. She broke the gaze first, naturally, because it took more than she had to give to meet his gaze long when something was brewing behind his eyes. She scanned his face, noting the tension in his grip, and took his hand letting him ease her to her feet.

The Konti automatically shifted her stance, glad her health was returning to her, because with it came balance and a certain amount of poise. All of that was needed when she heard what he had to say and took a moment for it to sink in. She pivoted slowly on one foot and looked outward, noting the tall ship with the black masts floating in the plunge pool bay. It was docked on a far deep-water slip, the closest to the outer rim of the bay.

Kavala nodded. “I see. Does he need killing then?” The healer asked, another facet of her personality rising. In another life that’s all she’d done. People died, and while her body in this life was marked with Rak’keli’s symbols twice over, the one in that life had needed no extra guidance. “I’d best change then.” She said, not waiting for his answer. Backup in the form of a saltwater soaked Konti in a see-through sundress was not exactly what she thought Caelum had in mind. So, without asking for any further explanation, Kavala released her grip on Caelum’s hand and turned. Her bare feet slapped a wet path into the tavern, leaving a trail for Caelum to follow should he choose.

If he did, he’d find her unashamedly changing out of her soaked sundress and carefully donning her leathers. Kavala understood Caelum’s haste, but that didn’t mean she was going to walk into a fight unarmed or unprepared. A mage was never exactly unarmed, but in Kavala’s case she’d just done some serious building and there were limits to the amount of djed she could produce in one day. Tall riding boots were slipped on over the pale cream leather, deep brown to match the weapons harness that the Konti slung around her body. Throwing daggers lined the inside of the harness; while a couple of sets of tamo’s fit inside each other were fastened across her ribs. Her crossbow and quiver went on her back, where her double bladed long sword was sheathed as well. A belt pouch went on over the harness, holding blowgun, darts, and a multitude of things to dip the darts in.

Kavala was methodical in her preparations.

She watched Caelum as she dressed; finally covering her fully armed self with a nice cloak that only displayed the double bladed sword and not much else. The blades were longer than she was tall, so there was no concealing it in the folds of the warm covering. Once she was dressed, she pulled a comb out of the belt pouch and began pulling it through her tangled hair. Her long strokes were methodical, carefully orchestrated, and meant to give Caelum time to think.

She braided her long wet hair and when she was done with the tangles, Kavala tied it off with a strip of white leather. She continued to watch Caelum the whole time. It was obvious she was thinking about what he said and trying to decide how best she could help him. “Well, do we have time for that long damned story we never quite got around to before we race off to confront a man I know nothing about?” She inquired, curious as to if he was going to elaborate on Caius Delucia or not. There was no mistaken that Kavala trusted Caelum. She’d follow him into the dankest Rhysol temple if he said that he was going and needed backup. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t ask him the why of it. She of course would.

“How would he know you were here in Riverfall. Alements hasn’t been open long enough for the word to get out to other ports – its not even open yet. And unless someone like one of the slavers talked about you, then I’m not sure this man would have a way to know you were here.” She said, and then paused, her fingers still on the thick braid of wet white hair she’d just formed. There was more than one way to find a person…. All it took was a good Dreamwalker, a Diviner, and or something belonging to that person. She knew that well enough, even if she was being stupid by speculating he didn’t know Caelum was indeed here.

“If he is as dangerous as you say, hope for the best, but assume the worst. You don’t look armed enough for my piece of mind. What are you packing?” She asked, suddenly, eyes scanning Caelum’s form with all kinds of scrutiny.

Count: 1,023

[Caelum]

Caelum slumped in the doorway to the infirmary, watching Kavala change her clothes and arm herself. It was not without appreciation and, in fact, his eyes followed all the lines of her a time or two; but it was neither anything pointed or new. They had known each other deeply and long. He had an abiding respect that was not at a dearth today. The infirmary was in the back alongside the kitchen. It was fully stocked in preparation for any number of medical emergencies and boasted no less than six beds and an entire wall devoted to stone built shelves and counter tops for medicines. (There also happened to be a stray keg of ale in the corner, but that was neither here or there.) "He needs killing," the ethaefal determined, and it had been some while since Kavala had witnessed that depth of cold in ancient eyes. "He needs killing, in fact, more than most people; but it won't be by me, and it won't be you. Not this time. Not yet. I made a promise, and it was to bide, and I intend to stand by so long as I am able." He kicked out of his slump and immediately fell into that loose hipped, earth eating pacing with which Kavala was so familiar on him. He thought on his feet, he was best in motion, and he only grew stagnant and rusty when still. Today he was agitated as well, the hem of his split duster whirling as he about-faced and abruptly pulled open a drawer to lift out not medical supplies but a matched pair of wickedly sharp looking daggers. He dropped then, a puddle of agitation, to one knee in order to fit the daggers into the built in sheaths of his boots. "He's Black Sun, Kavala." The dagger drove home and he shifted in a fluid motion to pry back the leather sheath in his left boot. "At this juncture I cannot say or guess what rank he might be or what his mission is. He's always had ulterior motives, an agenda very much of his own. It was enough that he put a contract out for me, wanting me alive, before I even knew he existed. I still don't know how he found me in Zeltiva, but I suspect Lillis and I were betrayed. I don't know by who, or even really why. I have suspicions. Regardless, they came for us, we were separated, and Captain Bruin sold me to Delucia as was pre-arranged." He unraveled back to his feet, eyes finding hers. "Now I suspect he has a connection to the Ruv'na. He wanted the celestial language out of me, and secrets of the Chavena. But this was before I had my memory, before I even knew what the Chavena was let alone that I was a dreamwalker. Then he seemed to know more about it, more about me, than I did. I thought he was mad, Kavala. Now I believe he was just that far ahead of me in the game." An arm swept out, encompassing the figurative board. "You're right. There's no way he could be in Riverfall for me. I'm not so well known as that. But he is here for a reason, and it can't be a good one. I'd rather suss it out myself and gather evidence. Otherwise I have nothing to offer the Kuvay'nas. I want to hunt up some of his crew while they're on shore leave and speak to the assistant port master. Ask questions. Gather information. Even if Delucia is in Riverfall for nothing other than supplies, I want to know."

[Kavala]

Kavala nodded at Caelum’s assurance that the man needed killing. Disappointingly, by his tone, she heard the BUT loud and clear before the rest of the statement was carefully clarified. The Konti was pumped from her geomancy and rather in the mood to do something vigorously physical at that moment. Killing someone that needed it was as good as any of an outlet for Kavala’s excess energy, especially since no one in particular was sharing her bed at that moment talented enough to take her mind off all the energy she felt pumping through her. She’d almost forgot how good it was to build things with her own hands… especially things that would last.

“Your promises aren’t my promises.” Kavala reminded him sensibly, still eyeing his person with a discouraged look that said clearly she thought he wasn’t armed enough. “I would remind you not to overlay them on me since I have enough of my own to keep.” The Konti said reasonably. She wasn’t exactly going to go looking for a fight, but when someone said someone nasty was off limits, then that seemed to her like an widely broadcast call to invite ants to the picnic they were about to lay out. And truthfully, she was hungry enough not to want to share.

The Konti stamped her booted foot, adjusting the fit of her riding boot and shifted. She creaked now in the comforting sound of leather stretched across flesh. The scent of it flooded her awareness and somewhat calmed her. The truth was the weight of all the weapons on her was having its effect. A good crossbow could be better than a lullaby to a sleepy child. And a brace of daggers sharpened to scalpel precision was indeed another soothing comfort to a stormy soul.

The truth was she was feeling so much better than she had in the past seasons. Anir had done his work well and her body was corded with muscle again and her skin was tight with good health. She slipped fingerless gloves on her hands, and then slipped a pair of leather bracers on her wrist. All of it matched her leathers perfectly. She didn’t look expensive, but she did look well put together. If someone took the time to examine her wardrobe he’d find it worn, but of the finest quality. Cheap leather didn’t give much protection to one’s skin. And one’s skin was no replacement and supplement to cheap leather.

Caelum picked that moment to loose his introspection and wander back into the confines of the clinic. Kavala followed, dubious that he would pick up enough weapons for her taste. She watched impassively as daggers fitted into his boots. Then, quietly, he began to speak again.

“Black Sun?” She asked curiously, having never heard the term before. “That means nothing to me, Caelum. It sounds foreign, like from another part of the world. “Missions? Is it some sort of military from up north?” She asked, knowing what Caelum’s separation from Lillis had meant. She’d moved on with her life, married, and ultimately been happy. Caelum had her daughter now, from that unknown man, and was raising it as his own though she had none of Caelum’s blood coursing through her veins. Kavala looked thoughtful. Questioning Caelum took tact. You couldn’t bomb him with questions, though you could slide a few in here and there in the guise of a muse, and he’d often add insight. That is why she never flat out asked him what The Black Sun was. Instead she admitted no knowledge of them. It was up to Caelum to enlighten her if he chose… and if he even knew.

“If he has a connection to the Ruv’na, then he is as Godless and loveless and hateful as they are.” Kavala commented dryly, fed up with the blatant misguided nature of her enemies. To know Rak’keli, Eyris and Nysel and all that she did were to know love. Having the trio in her life invited healing, wisdom, knowledge, and power. Most people thought of Nysel as a God of Dreams. But Kavala knew Nysel as the ultimate power, one blessed by Akajia and Wysar having been born in Riverfall. He alone gifted them with the power to change the world and peoples lives in an instant. And that was why the Ruv’na hated so badly. Where the Black Sun kindred to the Godless?

She turned her awareness back to what Caelum was saying. She understood his frustration at the ignorance, but she wasn’t worried about it. “You are only so far ahead of the game before you loose sight of the playing board. Caelum, all we need to understand is that his motivations and drives is a big piece of him… a key to get to his Chavi. We don’t even need that in fact truth be told. Every one of his men on that vessel has had a tangle with him, meaning every one of them have their chavi’s linked up to his. We just need one piece of one of them … a tiny nothing... hair, blood, a bit of piss when one relieves themselves in an alley. It won’t take anything to get the facts as to the why of it, even if you yourself have to do it. He’s not in Riverfall for you. But he will recognize you immediately if he sees you. You can’t go looking like that.” She said, shaking her head at Caelum’s beauty.

Kavala was resourceful though. And she’d been training. The woman moved with purpose, out of the clinic, behind the bar, and over to where Caelum had writing materials stored. She took out a pen, ink, and dipped the pen, spreading out a section of parchment from a batch of parchment she claimed. Then she concentrated hard, let the ink flow across the paper and began the glyph. Glyphs were child’s’ play in ancient Mizahar, back when wizards studied in big colleges and claimed allegiance to two great empires. She remembered some of the magic, having visited back then, walking her past and her Chavi to before the Valterrian.

The Konti focused, writing out the glyph needed and then sanding it carefully to get it to dry. The trigger word was in pavi and it was simply the word change stylized to look like pavi grassland sign indicating transformation. She laid the glyph on the ground, concentrated, and formed horns. Her face contorted after a quick study of Caelum’s and a rack resplendent like his rose from either side of her forehead. Then she stepped on the glyph, concentrated again, and dissolved the horns on her head. The glyph, sensing the magic, pulled and Caelum could see the power surrounding Kavala pulled into the diagram where she stood on it, locking it deep into the focus.

Kavala stepped off the glyph. The horns were back on her head and she dismissed them, letting them melt back into her skull. She labeled the glyph horns, and let him take possession of it. “These should last the rest of the day. I know you like being pretty, but being pretty is fairly obvious to these characters.” Kavala said, sighing, rubbing at her temples, and then finishing the second glyph that she started on a blank parchment. This one was slower to react when she stepped on it and changed her eye color from blue to green. Again, the glyph seemed to suck down the magic.

She picked it up, labeled it eye color and handed it to Caelum. Usually she’d do the whole face at once, but truth be told the eyes always didn’t look quite right unless they were tended too separately. The final glyph she wrote down by carefully drawing out the focus, the barrier and finally the trigger with the same pavi word for change. This time when she stepped on it and morphed, her skin tone took on a dark tanned complexion and her hair turned roughly the same shade, something that could be labeled sandy blond. Her face contorted and she looked exactly like a non-descript man. The change was only in her face which looked silly, but Kavala could see it translating to Caelum well where he didn’t have to work with his whole body for morphing. Kavala sighed as the glyph sucked in the disguise and she picked up the parchment. It too received a label and was handed to Caelum.

“Just recite them and you become no one with green eyes and a plain completion. It will take a few minutes, hurt like hell, but then it should last the rest of the day.” Kavala said, setting down on a nearby chair and leaving the ink and parchment out. She was a little tired, but a lot more satisfied that Caelum could walk up to someone without being recognized and probably pass for one of their own.

“If you aren’t going to kill him, I at least want to be able to get you close enough to him or his crew to have a good look around. He doesn’t know me so I could do it, but he does indeed know you.” Kavala said, wondering suddenly what the nature of Caelum’s captivity was. Her eyes held those questions even as her tongue refused to ask the specific questions.

If Caelum wanted her to know, he’d tell her.

Count: 1,560

[Caelum]

"Promises are meant to be kept," Caelum murmured. It was in agreement with Kavala's reminder that she was under no obligation to assist in the maintenance of his promises. "And I admit that perhaps I've kept this one too long. It may be time for me to dismantle it." Piece by piece, bone by bone, until all of the lost languages in which it had been made crumbled to ash in his mouth. He found that he was comfortable with that at the end of this long winter. A strange smile stole across his mouth. "There are more ways than one to keep a thing, after all." As a former captive as well as a former nakivak, Caelum knew Kavala would understand this. Keeping could be kind, and it could also be cruel. The interior pockets of his long coat were packed with extra knives and mizas, a few herb packets, a needle and some catgut, and a variety of other potentially useful things that would have impressed a conjurer. Cabinets were opened and closed and drawers were rummaged through as he made his way through the peaceful state of tidiness and organization and the easing, soft colors of his infirmary. He listened as Kavala ever so carefully arranged her inquiry as to the Black Sun and smiled a little to himself because he was the sort of man who found pleasure in the simple fact of being known, and known so well. "The Black Sun is a cult of Rhysol, the god of chaos," he said. It was not quietly, his voice firm rather than hushed or hesitant. Another man might have lowered his voice out of fear of the wind itself overhearing him utter the name of the evil god. Especially after all that Caelum had witnessed in his life. Caelum would not, would never display that respect, however. He had once, out of terror and disorder, when all that he was collapsed to ruin in the light of the setting sun; but he'd promised himself, hadn't he? He promised himself never again. He was beloved of Syna and an agent of Nysel, a follower of Rak'keli and a hand of Nikali. He would turn in the grace of Priskil and clasp hands with Yahal too if the chance occurred. Rhysol had nothing on him. Not anymore. "They are the shadow arm of the militant Ebonstrife who protect the city of Ravok. They are spies and corruptors, intelligencers and assassins and they battle largely in a long standing shadow war with the Syliran Knights.They are powerful, and they are dangerous. I would not be surprised did one of them such as Delucia have dealings with the godless Ruv'na. He worships Rhysol, but Rhysol is chaos. He would gladly tangle with the Ruv'na for even so much as half a shot at learning their magic of Static, Kavala." He gave her a long look. "And a dozen other things besides." He fell silent when Kavala began to glyph and transform, curiosity keeping him transfixed. Pacing closer, he peered with interest down at the runes she drew and when she sprouted horns he gasped on a quick laugh. It floated low and cold through the room, edged with wonder. "What is that magic? Not the glyphing. I am familiar with the basics of how glyphing works, but the one that you used to transform. I've never seen anything like it, unless..." He trailed off and a secret smile appeared. "You're not marked by Ionu, are you? And kept that from me all this time? Ionu's followers can create the most fascinating illusions." The scrolls were accepted with a nod to show that he understood her instructions. Pocketing them carefully into his jacket, he rocked back on his heels and considered his friend and all of the questions cluttering the beautiful blue of her eyes. "This will be incredibly useful. You're a natural intelligencer, love, and today you're bound to learn a little more about those arts. For now --" And he reached out to take her hand in his, weaving their fingers with a warm squeeze and ultimately tugging her in the direction of one of the infirmary beds. En route, he slid the bolt shut on the infirmary door, effectively locking them inside. "For safety," he explained. "Because I want to take you dreamwalking, so as to witness the time Delucia and I met. It will give you a better understanding of the type of man we are up against." Not to mention help to answer, of his own offering, some of the questions lingering in her eyes.

[Kavala]

The Konti was in rare humor, even after all the power she’d been throwing about. There was a beginnings of a headache between her eyes and she felt like she probably should bolt down a meal or two before her and Caelum moved out. But it was what it was and there’d be no delaying Caelum when his inner hound was on a scent. But that didn’t mean she’d honor his wishes. Caelum and Kavala were good friends, but sometimes they fundamentally disagreed on things. The Konti felt death was necessary at times and was something of a preventative medicine if one wanted to equate killing to healing. She’d mind Caelum’s feelings, but if the man had hurt her friend in any way, then in Kavala’s mind he’d forfeited the right to live.

So while Caelum was readying himself, Kavala was spread out and found some bread cooling from the kitchen area. She helped herself, slathering it with whatever foodstuff she could find and began packing it in. Eating was a great pleasure to the thin Konti, one she’d went almost without for a year while she was carrying the twins. They didn’t like what she liked. But now that they were eating independently of her stomach, she could choose what she wanted to shove between her lips, and her meals mostly stayed down.

So while Caelum filled her in on Ravok, its sects, and the underground war between the Ebonstryfe, Blacksun, and the Syliran Knights… the Konti ate. Power demanded calories and she fed the power as best she could while the Eth filled the area with his quietly glittering words. And when he was done speaking, Kavala almost wished he hadn’t. It was enough that she had the Ruv’na to worry about. It was enough that the Sea of Grass had glassbeaks and yukman and every form of terror known to mankind. But now there were people taking the sides of Gods and killing in the name of them. That never went over well. And it made the gnosis marks that etched her body twitch slightly. So she covered her dismay with vigorous chewing and kept eye contact with Caelum, paying attention to not only what he said but how he said it. There was deep anger there. Caelum’s history was not pleasant, but for all that she’d never walked his Chavi. There was too much respect there to violate that sort of trust without his permission and guidance. His life was none of her business unless he made it so.

And currently he was definitely making it so.

The Konti ran her now empty hand over her face, and smoothed the high pony tail she was sporting, pulling the almost translucent length through her hands in a nervous gesture. More trouble. That’s what Caelum’s words equated too. Would they ever know peace? Would even this distant vaguely unimportant city bring its problems and beliefs here and interrupt the peace that was to be had in Riverfall? Her eyes trained out the stained glass window to where the ship out in the harbor sat bobbing at anchor. Its black sails were carefully rolled and covered. But suddenly it wasn’t a ship at all to Kavala. Instead it was a symbol of change and she hated that, gritting her teeth as she downed two glasses of water rapidly.

When she was finished with her hasty makeshift meal she felt better. Caelum had also finished speaking. She had questions, sure, but she wasn’t sure how to ask them without sounding like she’d already formed a judgment on the situation. She truthfully hadn’t. But she was judging by the way Caelum was acting and the caution he was showing. It was unusual, this sort of concern and this sort of preparation. It was even more unusual that he wanted to take her Dreamwalking. It was something she’d only done to look for his lost wife, and only then with him in tow. Now the roles were going to be reversed. He was going to take her, and that in and of itself felt unusual.

But she gripped his hand anyhow, let him pull her from her cocked-hip stance, and didn’t raise an eyebrow when he pulled her through the door of the infirmary and paused beside one of the beds. His words were still echoing in her mind. Caelum praising her was rare, but it wasn’t something she wanted to be. A good mother, a good friend, even perhaps a decent mage. But an intelligencer? Kavala had mixed feelings on the subject. Subterfuge and games of intelligence weren’t her cups of tea. She wanted to face things head on, not roust them out of the shadows and expose their darkness to the light. She knew Caelum lived for such things. But in that they were very different. In that Kavala’s heart was elsewhere.

Without offering resistance, Kavala stretched out on one of the beds and fluffed the pillow. The Konti had very little trouble sleeping where and when she needed too. Part of that came from faithfully worshiping Nysel throughout not only the years but lifetimes. She’d let Caelum decide if he was going to join her or choose his own bed. If he joined her she’d wrap around him comfortably, like the old friends they were, and pillow her head on his shoulder. If he picked a different bed, she’d still relax, stretching out and owning the bed by taking all its space like the Konti tended to do. Her own bed at home was huge for that very reason, and often filled with five or six people as Kelvics and children converged.

Caelum and Kavala would talk, of course, but in the Chavi it was easier, more open, and far less confining in some ways than it was on the material. Kavala let her eyes drift close. She was, after all, tired from all the magic.

If someone would have asked her what Dreamwalking was like, she would have simply smiled and shrugged. She imagined it was different for everyone. For her, it was like closing her eyes and taking a single step sideways, freeing herself from her material body and launching her spirit into a series of places like one would skip a rock across a still lake. And as she merged with the Chavena and hovered there, a bright iridescent awareness, she cast out her ability to sense as only a Dreamwalker could, and waited for Caelum to join her. As she lingered, waiting, she said a quiet prayer to Nysel, thanking him for the ability and the freedom his mark granted her. They would walk a chavi today, share information, and do so intimately and because Nysel had granted them a bit of his power.

And while they were there, they would be reminded once more of how long life really was. They would reacquaint themselves with how vast the lifetimes of each mortal were and how they coiled in on themselves, over and over again, because mortals died and returned over and over again. Being here made her less afraid. Being here made her stronger. And she reveled in the sensation until the bright Eth joined her.

When he appeared, she'd simply say.... "We should have started this conversation with a Dreamwalk, not ended it with one. It's easier on the suspension of disbelief and the ability to field questions." The Konti said dryly, though a hint of humor was indeed in her eyes.

[Caelum]

Caelum settled onto the bed Kavala chose without hesitation. A strong around came around her, pulling her comfortably close when she curled against him and pillowed her cheek against his shoulder. He ducked his chin and dropped a kiss to her hair, sighing a little; but he said nothing more, for there was far more room for their words within the Chavena. Sleep held out familiar hands to him, and grasping them, he sank rapidly down between the beats of his heart. A field of stars surrounded him, winding toward its center until the spiral arm of a galaxy framed Caelum up and settled over his shoulders like a cloak. Since he had first visited Nysel's halls in this life, this cloak of the night sky always played a part in his merging with the Chavena. He also tended to take on a form, and this time it was the windmarked one of his most recent past life with which Kavala was so familiar. Though here he could be no more than a bright splash of sunshine or a swirl of cosmic dust, Caelum had always been a shaper and he preferred a mouth with which to speak. "It is easier here." And he turned, comet tail cloak sweeping behind him and trailing down as if in an attempt to echo some of the brighter strands of chavi surrounding them. He held up a hand, head tilting back, to gaze at the massive pillar of his own chavi that seemed to stretch up into a hazy forever. It was a thick and intricate conflagration of color that seemed to constantly change, to endlessly evolve as it swept through all of his many lives. Things could be told about him just from looking at it, before even walking through the debris of his life details. It was glaringly evident that he was a doer and a shaper, a rarely passive creature who had been both catalyst and consequence at different times. "Here --" He murmured to his fellow dreamwalker. "I will show you the first piece, and then we will surface before the next. There is more than one small thing to show you." And with a gesture of invitation, should she choose to follow, he would pull her into the deep well of space that was the center of his personal dreamscape. His cloak flared with a gasp of sunlight that swiftly died, leaving them in the black before dawn. It swept over them both and up from below swelled up a northern sea with waves that chopped like war drums against the hull of a black masted brigantine. * * * "Get up," Diarmid Bodei spat. The words were so sharp they blistered his tongue. Light pricked at the tips of waves where they were being absorbed by the horizon, the first evidence in a long while that the sun was going to make good on its promise to rise again. The Crack of Noon felt like a phantom in Leth's last hours, sails shrouding the rigging, strapped down against the storm that had walked away on legs of lightning. It had left the skeletons of the sailors still trembling with thunder while they slogged through ruins and debris, attempting to clear and repair. "Get up," the first mate said again, punctuating his words this time with a kick to the ribs of the bloody man sprawled upon the deck. In response, Diarmid received a grunt that broke into a groan. "For petch's sake, up. Up. We're screwed if you can't at least stand." A whistle sharpened the night from above, the clank of the hoist jerking up Diarmid's chin so that he could glower at the starboard rail. Curses tumbled from his mouth as he watched his captain, arm still in sling, signal a scrub rat ready the throw lines. Out of the pearl fog had long since loomed the rounded hull of their target vessel, the surrounding water throwing back echoes and booms of deck hand calls. Captain Bruin stood with lips pursed watching as the ship lulled, as the respective mates exchanged flashes of tattered flags and the man they had come all this way to meet, braving storms and gin soaked fables of giant squid, prepared to come aboard. It was widely accepted that a captain who consented to parley on another captain's deck was the lesser, the beggar and certainly not the wronged. This cold morning Captain Bruin stood with his boots planted firm as red oak roots on his own deck and knew damned well, right down to the dregs of his rotted soul, that Caius Delucia of Hanged Fate was conceding absolutely nothing by coming aboard. An agent of Rhysol offered over their upper hand only when their lower lied in wait. “Welcome aboard,” Bruin muttered while eying Delucia drop over the rail, a dark skinned mountain of a man half a startlingly graceful step behind him. Heedless of the blood the northern seas had not yet had the chance to wash away, shined boots carried the Ravokians over the boards. “Storm found you, eh?” Delucia offered by way of greeting, casting lightless eyes across the battered scene. “Amongst other things,” Bruin sniffed and rolled his injured shoulder, delivering the inquiring look from Delucia a stone faced stare. “Got m’ damned gold? Greasers down water been biting m’ coin of late.” “How irritating,” Delucia opined, a gloved hand rising to rub a bit of left over soot from his cheek. He was peering over Bruin’s shoulder with an intensity of regard that might have cowed a lesser pirate than Amadeo Bruin and certainly set the nerves of Diarmid Bodei alight. The first mate dropped like a stone to haul with heavy hands on the shoulder of the body yet at his feet. “Well?” Bruin prompted and drew the Ravokian’s attention back to him. He had a strange face, did Delucia, at least in the eyes of the grizzled Bruin. The cheekbones were too flat in the weakly waking daylight, the mouth too bowed, the expression interminably contained no matter what emotion it was conveying. Truth was, he liked his chances better with the scar seamed monster playing Delucia’s shadow. He just could not say why. “I brought the gold. What do you have for me?” Delucia answered and then tilted his head to follow Bruin’s gesture backwards in the direction of his first mate. “A poxed sailor? Dira’s cunt, mate, let’s not be miserly.” “The sack of skin at his feet, y’ fool,” Bruin’s eye roll to the jest was almost audible. “There’s what’s yours now.” “That?” Delucia dropped his chin and lifted his eyes in the same, incredulous motion. “Look,” Bruin exhaled, swinging testily around to pace on broken boot heels towards Diarmid and his merchandise. “You went n’ sent out the call, promisin’ high pay outs. I went n’ got it, dealt with more shyke than you’d care to learn ‘bout to get here, so aye. That’s yours. Gold’s mine. Where’s it?” “Mm,” Delucia considered. Following Bruin, he balanced broad shoulders back and nudged at the blood and ink striped arm of the seemingly unconscious man. “Did you seriously flog him in the middle of a petching storm?” “Storm came after,” Bruin snorted with an uneasy glance exchanged with his first mate. Diarmid crab walked backwards a few feet, wisely unwilling to remain in such close quarters with Caius Delucia’s steel toed boot. “Isn’t that interesting.” “Haste, Delucia. Know the meaning?” Black eyes lifted, catching the sharp wariness lurking in Bruin’s face. “Is he good for it?” He wanted to know. “Think so,” Bruin grunted. “How?” Bruin squinted past the patched mast and into the east. “You’ll see.” Realization widened Delucia’s eyes and as the sun finally finished emerging from the storm lit deep, the sack of skin seemed to ignite in a flurry of daylight and transformed into an ethereal, if still blood smeared, creature -- Caelum. “He’s good for it.” Bruin cleared his throat. Delucia’s smile cast a shadow a lifetime long. * * * Sunlight flashed for a second time and when it faded to a gentle glow Kavala and Caelum were sitting amid a sea of grass back in his dreamscape. The sky above was the color of hydrangeas, a blue so true that it could break the soul, but it was nonetheless scattered with twinkling pockets of stars -- the fire of far away suns. When Kavala looked up, she would find Caelum peering calmly back at her, waiting patiently for her to get her bearings. He seemed unaffected by the scene she had just relived with him, and maybe that was a good sign. Or maybe it just meant he knew there was worse yet to come.