PM to join Stepping Forward, Reaching Back (Eselle)

[Hirem]

83rd of Summer, 514 AV

For the first time in his life, the sea called out to Hirem.

He hadn't intended to make a detour to the beaches of Riverfall on his evening run. His original plan had been to jog up from the docks to Riverfall's main gates, then turn back and head to the Kulkukan in time for a good night's sleep. It was a short run, brisk and quickly finished, and normally he would make more time for the exercise, in order to have it truly test his limits... but tonight, he had been hoping to get settled into bed earlier than usual. The Benshira had been running ragged the last few days, his sleepless nights complemented with tough days and a troubled mind. A chance to rest - to once more become comfortable with himself - was what he truly needed if he was going to survive the coming days. How can I settle into a new life if I am not ready to live this one peacefully? He kept telling himself, wondering why this latest decline in his health had been thrust upon him. The events that had seen him kidnapped and nearly forced into slavery were already slipping into the recesses of memory, and there was nothing that outwardly threatened him in Riverfall. He should have nothing to fear... yet he was afraid anyway.

It was that fear that pushed him to the sea.

It was surprisingly cool as Hirem ran along the beach, the worst of Riverfall's heat wave having been long ago passed in the season. His sandal-clad feet padded quietly against the white sand, his arms swinging up from his sides and his gaze kept focused on the distant horizon. Here, away from the hum of city dwellers and the constant tremors of the Bluevein, the air was more peaceful. Quiet. The fading light of the sun made the sea seem terribly dark and the beach become indistinct in detail, but Hirem actually found the darkness comforting instead of frightening. It was a relief to run, he found, to have the blood pumping through his whole body and drown out the sounds of his thoughts. Each rhythmic step that carried him forward was soothing in its own right, although his tired frame bumped and shuddered occasionally thanks to his fatigue. When he performed this kind of exercise, he abandoned his tunic and rolled up his breeches to keep as much of his arms and legs bare as possible, and this left the sea spray to spatter excitedly against his naked skin. Here, on the beaches of Riverfall, he managed to find some peace; to his left was the shimmering Sea of Grass that echoed and whispered with the sounds of wildlife, to the right was the Suvan that groaned and sighed delightedly with every push of Laviku's will. Closing his eyes, the Benshira surrendered himself to the quiet comfort of running, as well as the respectful reverence of prayer.

Praise be to Yahal, who has guided the faithful through their paths in life and brought them to his blessed fold.

Praise be to Nysel, who is the champion of the Dreamwalkers and master of the unknown.

Praise be to Laviku, he who has kept the world in balance and gifted the world with the bounty of the sea.

Praise be to Wys-

He tripped. His foot got caught against a rock that had washed up on the beach and was unable to slip free, leaving Hirem to suddenly tumble over and crash into the sand. He braced his left shoulder to land against the ground, and even though he prepared himself for the hard landing, the resulting thud from his arm slamming into the tightly-packed beach sand was still jarring. Groaning, he laid on the ground for a moment and suffered the pain before rolling onto his stomach and hauling himself onto his knees. He would have risen to his feet then... but instead stopped. And waited. And listened. For a few devastating moments, he felt as if all the strength had been wiped clean from him and he was powerless to do anything but sit upon his knees and stare out to sea. Quiet waves from the Suvan came to him as he rested on the beach, slight waves that spilled out against the sand and trickled against the bottoms of his legs before returning back to the sea. The saltwater was shockingly cold against his warm skin and made him nearly jump at initial contact, but instead of moving away, he stayed on his knees and endured the cold. Gradually, the waves no longer bothered him as much, and began to feel comfortable against his legs. It was as if the Suvan was stroking his legs tenderly with but a finger, the thought giving Hirem a reserved smile. He tucked his chin to his chest, lowered his head, and closed his eyes, wondering that if he pitched forward just a foot, he would end up getting sucked away by the sea.

He knew why he was out here. Knew it, but did not want to confront the issue himself. Hirem sighed, and wondered if answers to his difficult question might come springing out of the heavens. There was a choice ahead of him, a choice that he was terrified of making. On the one hand lay Kavala's Sancutary and the Cytali, a mysterious organization that he felt compelled to join. If Kavala was right, then his past lives had been intimately tied to the Cytali and were Dreamwalkers themselves, and if that was correct then Hirem knew that he could not keep away from the cause forever. But the enemies the Cytali faced - the Ruv'na - were a far more chilling foe than Hirem had ever experienced before in his life, and he did not know if he was ready to face them. He was also unsure of whether or not he was ready to devote himself to a cause like Cytali, for... for... I have only just received my life back, after so many years spent suffering in the desert. I am not sure that I want such a duty yet. Further confusing matters was the oath that he had sworn to Kavala, that guaranteed his loyalty to her. Could he still serve her faithfully and embark upon matters of his own heart? The other cause that demanded his attention was more real, in a fashion, dealt with matters that he understood more of: slavery. Earlier this season, Hirem had received an offer from Caelum to join in his battle against Cyphrian slavers, to help destabilize Haev Provedan's business and create an escape route for those poor souls still trapped in their chains. Once he had heard that offer, he knew that he was powerless to refuse. At the same time, it was a battle against slavery that had first started Hirem down the dark path that led to his destruction.

Confused, frustrated, and searching for answers, the Benshira bowed low to the gods of wind, sky, water, dreams, and faith in order to discover the truth.

[Eselle]

Here where the breeze played with the waves, Eselle found solace from the Summer heat. Long since the sand and sea had dried into her hair into a clumps. She had explored during the day and only returned to her belongings as night fell. Watching Syna set over the sea was one of life’s great pleasures, the final rays flew farther over the sea than the sky and turned it an iridescent peach.

As dark descended over the city and Leth’s glory threatened on the far skyline, Eselle stood in quiet reverence. A day passed was a day in which she had learned. Today she had watched the careful hunting tactics of an octopus. He had waited, buried beneath the sand for nearly half a bell before a tiny fish swam to close. Faster than Eselle had imagined the strange eight-legged sea-creature could move, he struck and took in his dinner. In a way, the Konti found pleasure in watching littler interactions like this she learned more this way than when reading or speaking with another. The art of the octopus was simple and devious; it hinged upon the ability to hide and the knowledge of when to strike. Admirable, she thought, but not a skill she would often employ.

Her white boots sat upon flat rock so she could feel the sand between her toes. Even after he swim she had rolled up her pants to her knees. Perhaps come Fall she would purchase more clothing for her wardrobe, but it was a luxury she wouldn’t indulge in just yet. As Syna fully settled beyond the horizon Eselle turned back towards the city. Her intent had been to head for her apartment, but she never moved one step.

Over the cliffs three birds took auspicious flight in the pattern of a ‘v’. She watched as their shadows soared through the ever parting-curtains of stars in the sky. Abruptly they banked west and Eselle turned to follow them until they fell beyond sight. They had reminded her of a card in her Tarot deck, the Three of Wands. A card which featured a man looking out over the ocean, towards journey, partnership, and optimism. Beneath the flight of the birds another form had come to the forefront, a man on the edge of the surf. He bespoke omens to the fortune teller. Not only had the birds’ flight led her gaze to him, but he sat at the boundary between worlds, the two worlds which she belonged to.

Her hand unconsciously fell to the belt pouch which held her tarot deck. Eselle’s steps in the sand began before she’d ever thought to decide to speak to him. Like nature she was drawn to him. As she closed the distance her anxiety flared uncomfortably hot, suffocating. She wanted to remain silent to walk away and never look back, to never have to utter the simplest greeting. It was easier then to run than speak without the shield of fortune or errand, but with the rising inferno of anxiety her gift came to her aid. She felt his need like a shield of wind, it could not stop her anxiety but it could hold it back when she was needed. He had answers, answers that perhaps she might see in the symbols.

As the much diminished remnants of waves reached her toes, she turned to walk the line were wet sand met dry. It was not at all her intent to sneak up on the man so she choose a less straight path and followed the dividing border to him. Her accent was like a rhyme that forgot its scheme, heavy for the unnatural absence, “Tonight, Leth smiles over the sea.” She smiled as she noted the silvery rays beginning to dance upon the waves. Though her face lacked the telling flush her heart beat wildly as she began. Lowering herself with the grace of her sisters, she sat upon her knees with no care for the sand in her trouser. Her cards were far from endanger from the elements at her hip. The salt-filled wind tugged across her shirt, pulling it up just enough to reveal the lily mark mingled in the scales at her side.

She offered her hand palm up to this lost dark-skinned man, so contrasting with her pale features. “Would you accept my help?” She spoke with no pretension, only the compassionate invitation that could be refused without repercussion of any nature.

[Hirem]

“Tonight, Leth smiles over the sea.” Came the voice, soft and oddly phrased, reaching out to him through the fog.

"Yes," he whispered back, still caught between the realms of fantasy and reality. His eyes, instead of logically checking around him to see if there was an intruder to his peace, stared farther and farther out to sea, until he was certain that he could see the craggy cliffs of Kalea in the distance. And laying on that distant beach is another man, asking the same questions, wondering where his gods are now. The world is impossibly large, and the stories within it reach from the grass under our feet to the stars that shimmer above our heads. "Leth smiles, and all the children of the world smile back. Laviku's children grin under the waves and on the coasts as they celebrate their master's domain... Syna's servants raise their heads and mourn with grace the passing of their lady... and in my homeland, the faithful of Yahal gather together about open campfires and praise the night for occurring. Leth is distant, but his smile touches the entire world." Taking a deep sigh, Hirem reached up and placed a hand over his heart. Here beats the soul of a man that has lost touch with the simple wonders that exist beyond his understanding. I should close my eyes and breathe in the sweetness of the gods and their creatures more often.

Turning his gaze over to his side, the Benshira's cinnamon eyes leaped from the softly rocking waves to the delicate figure resting beside him, understanding now that it was her voice calling out to him and not a figment of his own imagination. His gaze struck upon her pale hair, wintry skin, and shimmering scales, and he realized without much surprise that it was a Konti. Once I might have been shocked at her appearance... but in this city of wonders, the women of the White Isle are starting to become familiar to me. This made the fourth Konti that he had spoken to in all of his time in Riverfall, a landmark achievement for the man who had once thought the legendary Mura only a myth for drunkards and old men to share in their revels. And just like Lyn, Kavala, and Alaia, she has appeared in an hour of need. Anguish draws the seers like moths to a flame, for they cannot help but use their godly gifts to cure the unfortunate. In his mind, Hirem swore to himself that if he ever saw a Konti in need, trouble, or distress, he owed them his protection. My life has been saved by the women of the White Isle more times than I should be due. I owe them a debt. Looking at this woman, he tried to spot if there was any noticeable differences between this girl and the other Konti he knew, and found one in the small, pretty lily that was emblazoned in her side. If I knew nothing of her origin, I might think that a tattoo... but I understand Mura better than that. She bears a gnosis, but it is not Rak'keli's. What else could it be...?

As he stared at the woman, lost in the implications of her appearance, she took the first move to bridge the distance between them. “Would you accept my help?” She asked, reaching out her hand and offering it to him graciously. No questions of 'What troubles you?' or 'How can I help?'. She understands my troubles from a single glance, from my very presence. Is the difficulty so painfully obvious on my face, or is this some element of her Konti nature that I have yet to understand? Regardless of how she came to know of his plight, the woman was offering her help in solving it... and, perhaps due to her race or the confidence she exuded, Hirem couldn't help but believe that she could help him, that she alone possessed the tools to answer his challenge. The only question now was, should he accept that help? It would be easy to lean upon her for support and use her presence as a crutch to help me limp to the answers I seek, but that is not showing strength on my part. His pride, already wounded by the indecision he faced, recoiled at the thought of turning to yet another individual for comfort, especially another Konti. The seers of Mura do not exist solely to solve my problems for me. Their gifts are appreciated, but I must learn to work without them. Still, yet another part of him desired company on this queer, lonely night. And it was that part of him, that primal instinct for friendship, that overrode his other concerns.

Nodding slowly, Hirem reached out and placed his palm onto her hand, wrapped his fingers over top hers, and clenched. "I would be honored to have your aid," he murmured, looking deep into her eyes with acceptance buried in his gaze. He thought briefly of standing above the water and relocating their conversation a few feet up the beach, but decided that he liked feeling the waves roll across his skin and that they were in little danger of catching a cold. "Shall I begin with..." Already he was misplacing his Common, but at least now it only took him a moment or two to remember the word he was reaching for. "... with an explanation? You must be curious as to why I am here, yes?" He wondered if this Konti was an actual seer, rather than just a divinely touched healer, and if she had already glimpsed into his heart and understood the problems that were affecting him. Deciding that he would speak anyway, Hirem reclined back on his palms and stared at the rising moon. "My name is Hirem, from the tents of Alachi, of the sons of Rapa. I was born in Eyktol and lived my life among the Benshira, but two seasons ago I came north to this city. I did so because I felt that my purpose, my... cause, did not lay in the Burning Lands, and that I had to search for it. Following the path Yahal has granted me, I came to Riverfall and made a home here, and I have grown to love this place... but now the cause that I am searching for has appeared to me. In fact, there are two that I have been summoned to face, and I do not know which one to choose - or even if I want to devote myself once more to duty."

"I am trapped between my need to serve and my want to stay, and I do not know how to make sense of this matter." Looking back to the Konti, he offered her a quiet, reserved smile. "It is like the Call that your people experience, but I know for sure that this Call will lead me into danger, that may end up changing me forever." Hirem briefly reflected on the days when he had been reluctant to share his emotions with others, to freely speak of the matters that dwelt deep within his heart. Life is too short to keep my mind a mystery, and too secluded if I do not open myself to friends.

[Eselle]

Eselle listened with patience that masked her slow deciphering of his musings on the Gods. Her Common simply wasn’t very advanced. Still the names of the Gods were a constant and she could still hear the poetry on his lips, even if some words were lost to her. As he spoke the quiet cadence of grassland bugs chirped in the background, a song that took no language to understand.

When he took her hand she smiled, but wondered how she might explain her gift. “I am Eselle, a seer. It is my gift to know you need me, it is Avalis’s grace to give me a way.” She replied as he accepted her offer. His story was not easy, but it was close to a Konti’s knowing. A Call was not always a pleasant thing, she was still lost in hers. Ravok had brought her no answers and only danger. Riverfall had shown itself to be a haven for her kind, she had met other Konti in her few short days here and even received a job from one. The safety was comfort but she could not be sure her Call was here and so she felt Hirem’s plight strongly.

“Hirem Rapa’s Son, we are mortal, not divine. We must change.” She could not bring herself to believe it was coincidence to have found Hirem in his hour of need. She rarely believed in coincidence to begin with but the omen of the birds was too much. “Your story touches my thoughts. There are two times to look for answers; the past and the future. What we have done makes our lives, what we could be makes our hopes. A Call is a thing of our lives, our hopes, and our fates. Avalis’s mark lets me look to the past and the world whispers the future if you know to listen. For you, Hirem, I will do both. ”

The way she mentioned using Avalis’s mark made it sound easy. That was not the case at all. Sometimes she would she visions on accident other times it would take great effort to locate the Chavi. Tonight would find her between the two difficulties. “I will seek the moments of your life that…” she struggled a moment for words. She had practiced the words of fortune telling but more mundane words were more easily lost. “That, give you definition. When you see these moments as one, it will give you insight into your choice.” Clasping her other webbed hand above his, she closed her eyes. She did not require his touch; it helped her confidence more than her gift.

Like a leaf falling at the mercy of the wind, her path twisted about. So near to her in the physical world, she could feel his presence here amongst the memories. A silhouette that disappeared whenever she looked directly upon it. Though there was no true directions as far as she knew, it felt right to trust blindly. She imagined reaching behind her and grasping for the silvery strange of fate. Here, she found the soul called Hirem.

Her eyes snapped open as they filled with visions. Gazing at the Benshiran her eyes were blind to his present, they saw only his journey to this place...

oocJust to be clear I totally understand the Benshiran Naming conventions, Eselle does not. Also feel free to describe her vision, it seemed appropriate since it was Hirem's past to let you do so.

[Hirem]

“Hirem Rapa’s Son, we are mortal, not divine. We must change.” The seer told him, Hirem's heart fluttering in response. Of course, she is right, he thought, wondering what powers Eselle had been granted that allowed her to look so keenly into the truth of his soul. Mortal, not divine... we must change... The words pressed heavily upon his mind, looming over his thoughts like a resolution that was larger than him, larger than life. It was as if the words of gods themselves had found their way into Eselle's mouth, and while it was strange to think that they were delivered from such a frail, delicate Konti with a curious accent, Hirem accepted the words no matter the vessel. For what makes divinity divine is its immutability... its steadiness, in a world that is otherwise consumed by chaos. The gods have the luxury of remaining static to change, of remaining the great beings of power that we, the weak and easily perished mortals, must lean upon for strength. Just as their significance stems from their inability to change, our great fortune is the fact that mortals are so vulnerable to alteration. This allows us to remake the world - and each other - and gives our lives utility to the gods and meaning to ourselves.

What he feared more than change, was the knowledge of just how horribly he could change. I have already fallen into darkness once before, so how can I trust myself to avoid doing so again? By remaining in Riverfall, by refusing to take the paths that were now opening up to him, Hirem might perhaps ensure that he never again fall astray from the light of Yahal and slip into corruption. But such an action was cowardly, and ill-beseeming of the immense duties that had been thrust upon him. The Cytali will not benefit from a man that shies away from adversity and buries his head in the sand, out of fear for what he may become. And the poor men and women trapped in Kenash certainly do not deserve a weak, incompetent fool coming to their rescue. They deserve more than that... they need a hero. Did Hirem have the ability to change into a hero? Was he already a hero, and would the journey forward into the future rob him of that selfless nobility? He could not figure out his thoughts on the matter... all that he could do was place his faith in Yahal and trust the god to lead him to the place where he was meant to be. In this case, Yahal had led him to a beach, to a Konti seer, and to the powers that she offered freely to him.

“I will seek the moments of your life that… that give you definition,” Eselle said, and the Benshira briefly feared what that meant. [i]If she looks into my past, will she see all the horrors that lurk within? Will she push away from me, and will I forever lose this chance to make sense of my fate? He wondered who this Avalis was that the seer owe her powers to; he had heard some mention of Avalis before in the past, and assumed that she was a goddess. Is she a Konti patron, then, that grants the miraculous Murans their strange gifts? Is Avalis the guardian of the White Isle? He assumed that the lily was her symbol and, as Eselle prepared to use her curious powers of divination, Hirem figured that he may as well offer a prayer to the goddess that was the original source of this amazing gift. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing upon the beach sands. Avalis of the Lily, I offer to you my respect for your wondrous powers. The Konti are truly a great blessing upon this fragile, troubled world, and you have done the mortal race an incredible gift by unleashing the healing powers of the White Isle. May your reign last forever and your children be led into ultimate prosperity. So shall I pray.

- - -

A tangled cord of light and color and dizzying shape greeted Eselle as she utilized the power of Avalis' Gnosis. It was obvious that this was Hirem's Chavi, but it took a moment to realize that it was an actual tangible cord, with a beginning and an end. For, on the outside, that fantastical pattern of shape and figure was caught in a strange, bewildering knot that worked around itself over and over again, each quivering arch brimming with chilling, terrible thoughts. Where the Chavi touched itself, nightmares blossomed, the legacy of a mundane disease that had spread throughout Hirem's soul. He too experienced visions from the past, but in a less magical sense than Eselle; rather than purposefully shifting through his essence to recover memories, his consciousness instinctively sought them out and breathed fresh life into trauma best buried. Greeting that strange luminous cord was a ponderous affair, yet the Konti was able to interact with it without experiencing much more difficulty than what Divination usually required. And where she touched the Chavi, visions emerged...

A boy, young and tall, ran up a dune of golden sand, cheering all the while. His awkward feet slipped underneath him constantly, yet he never fell as he came closer and closer to cresting the dune. Then, with an excited whoop of delight, the boy reached the top and threw his arms up into the air, basking in the golden light that the distant sun cast over the desert.

That same boy, now just a bit older, sat beside a raging campfire in the final hours of twilight, sitting alone in a sea of writhing bodies, playing instruments, and laughing faces. Where the rest of his family and people cheered and celebrated in their evening celebration, the boy stared into the bright fire and looked thoughtful, as if he searched for something inside the blaze. Then he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and offered a prayer to a god unknown.

Dusty libraries and cracked tomes. The boy peered through an old library for answers, shifting restlessly through book after book. In the distance, the words of his tutors buzzed in his ears, but he droned out what he did not react to. His friends, six in all, cajoled him and sparred in the training grounds, but he did not move to join him. Something else grabbed his attention.

Cherry lips under a pale night sky. The boy, now almost a man, pressed himself hotly against a pale-skinned foreigner and clung to her body for life. His lips and hands sought release in her sweet form, and his eyes grew wide at realizing the maturity of the woman's sensuality. His eyes met her emerald gaze and found a primal pleasure awaiting him there.

Those same eyes watched from afar as the woman departed his city forever, disappearing behind a curtain of swirling sand. Tears stained his cheeks, for it was his own hand that forced her to leave.

Now it was the boy's turn to leave the city, taking only a rucksack and walking stick with him out into the wild dunes. Behind him stood his father and sobbing mother, who were powerless to prevent him from leaving. Ahead of him was the unknown.

The boy shivered underneath the moon, the night's wind chilling him to the bone.

The boy traversed another mighty dune and stared, hopelessly, at the next four that stood in his path.

The boy lay on the ground and gasped for life, crawling to the nearby oasis.

The boy stumbled across a family of seven, all of them bearing six arms and coming from some strange, foreign city.

The visions grew quicker now, less distinct. The boy stood among the tents of the foreigners and had his arms folded, his expression growing more and more disdainful. Arguments, heated words. The boy fumed as he listened to the men chortle about his expression, the women joke about his city. A disastrous hunting trip. Steel bared. Blood shred from tanned skin. A scream. More blood, splattered on the walls of a tent. Begging for mercy. Yet more blood, staining the sands below. A girl, trembling and terrified, pleading for life, six arms bared. Steel flashing in the hot sun.

The man returned to his city, panting and out of breath, rusted sword in hand. His father's face is shocked, the mother's filled with unparalleled torment. Raised voices, shouting, screaming. Cast from home with stones pelting at his back. Man heads out into desert and fumes, but is approached by old friends. Steel offered, arms raised in salute. Acceptance. More come from the city, young and bright-eyed, juvenile fury rising in their hearts. The man smiles and spreads his arms wide, accepting them all into his fold. From his lips, hate spreads, multiplies in the hearts of the impressionable.

The images make even less sense now. Blood, steel, light, noise, fire, all of it consumes the man's life. A whirlwind of violence claims his soul and twists it into something dark and twisted and monstrous, a deepening inferno roaring in his ears and threatening to destroy everything that he has ever known and loved...

And then it stops. The man lets out a wordless scream as he watches one last flash of steel come down and hack off a woman's arm, a sympathetic woman whose eyes charm him like the desert's mirages and whose heart he has become enraptured by. The woman, pained, is dragged away into oblivion, and the man is hauled off in a different direction by armed guards. His head hangs low, and his arms rest limp in the hostile grasp. He is defeated.

The man rots in an underground cell, shut away from the light. His eyes are cast upwards, and his fingers reach tentatively out for his missing god. "Where?" he sobs, shaking with weakness. "Where are you?"

A cart rolling across the desert. Filled with the bodies of the dead, dying, or insane. The man is trapped alongside their fold.

Through some circumstance, the man is freed. He stares out at an empty desert and wonders what happens next. His voice is mute and his eyes are wide, searching for answers in a world that no longer makes sense to him.

He journeys back to the city. Hooded eyes stare at him from the dark corners of the streets, dark gazes that wonder if he is still addled as before, failing to comprehend the madness that had previously defined him. Life is empty in his home. Futile. The man grumbles and groans, wondering why he yet continues to breathe.

A summons. A call to adventure. A wizened old man sits in a tent with strangers and foreigners, discussing the secrets of a dark prison that needs to be sanctified. The man, hearing this, grows hopeful. Perhaps he may yet find solace in duty? The underground now yawns below him, dark and empty of light, ringing with the unnatural calls of the forsaken. The man, grim of purpose, takes a deep breath and steps down into the never-ending blackness.

Horror.

Light dawns on him after a long time, but it dawns on a crippled and broken face. The man, eyes bloodshot and unused to the sun, shy away from the brightness and, for a moment, seek the comfort of the underground. He grows ashamed at this, and breaks into tears. What comforts can the surface hold, that can compete with the horrible brutality that exists in the darkness?

Twilight. He wanders the gray desert with a downcast face, his traveling feet devoid of purpose, his senses deprived of hope. He walks alone through valleys of ash and dust and dirt, spurning the comforts of his home, spurning the light of the day, holding desperately onto the one support he has remaining: his god. "Where?" He asks himself in the dead of night, scared to voice his fears. "Where are you?"

Four years pass. Four years of nothing but walking, cursing, praying, and dying.

Finally, the man decides to take a stand. He lays broken beside a cave, his blood spilling freely from his ripped veins, but decides to stand nonetheless. He is done with running, and hiding, and making nothing of himself and his failing years. He needs to live. A caravan in the distance, coming closer and closer. He watches as they approach and offer him succor. He asks where they are heading. "Riverfall," they say, and the man closes his eyes. To Riverfall he would go.

The man walks through the city of water and grows stunned, unable to comprehend what he sees around. Tough warriors, beautiful artists, kind healers and intelligent friends. The man knows companionship like he has never known before. A chance meeting with two - a wise woman marked by three gods and beloved of the Dreamwalkers, and a man that shifts form with the sun - inspires something else in him, besides peace and solace: purpose. Purpose like he has always striven to know.

The man is lost.

- - -

Waiting expectantly for the seer to speak, disturbed by how empty her body seemed while she remained in this lifeless trance, Hirem ventured forth to speak. "So... what have you seen?" He asks quietly, unsure of what she might think. "Did an answer make itself apparent to you in the past?"

[Eselle]

Eselle’s sense filled with Hirem’s past. A million drops of blood in unquenched sand; a life of pain and perseverance. She couldn’t get the iron tang of blood from her nose, it was too near her own memories. From the past timbers moaned and sails screamed as they burned, when a Konti mother turned from seer to warrior. Like a dove bathed in blood, nature twisted and turned from what everyone knew to be, into a whole new truth. Hirem was no different.

Cobalt eyes refocused on the world of the present, though they spared no stray glance from him. Silently she sent a wish, White Mother, Avalis, with the gift you have bestowed upon this daughter I believe I can help this man, Hirem. There is much to be thankful for this night and it is due to your grace that it is possible at all. Please, I ask of you to watch over him and I; that the council I give him now will see him through the trails he no doubt will face. When the last wisps of prayer escaped her thoughts, she nodded at the Benshiran. “I see, Hirem.” Her smile was kind but she had seen his pain and could not keep the sympathy from her gaze. “A boy who loved life as only a child can. A young man who loved as only young men can. The mystery of a life all your own; the fear.” Her smile slid away, not in horror but in knowing. There was an acceptance to being a fortune teller, that fate was rarely kind even if one forged it by their own hands. Anger and pity did not change the past, this was a lesson learned from the healing sisters. They were compelled to heal even enemies and if they could go to those lengths then seer could contain the serenity to accept truth rather than judge it. “I see the blood and the lonely journey, not alone? But still you were lonely, you had no home I think. To lose a home is a terrible wound.”

The final images, a man and a woman. If she had only known to see Caelum as anything but a Drykas she might have added insight, or been able to give name to the woman at all. “Though the wound still hurts you, you made a new home here?” It was a guess from the final images, and perhaps her hopes gave birth to the idea. While her Call still beckoned and she had yet to find its source, she knew it was not on Mura her mother’s home and so she hoped she could make this city of rivers a new home.

“Our roads in life, are wilderness until our feet take the first step. Could you forgive yourself for not taking that step? To serve when danger is certain. Could you wake in the morning knowing you did not act? Without that answer I do not think you can consider this choice you give yourself.” Eselle had not needed her gift of Divination to understand this concept. She suspected this when he had first spoke of choice and safety. All the same his past had illuminated it. The seer now suspected he feared losing his home if he left it like he once had, or that is what she thought happened. He took some journey and it changed him such that his home could never be his again. It was a fear of young Konti that left to follow their Call. The more she looked into Hirem, the more she began to see her own fears reflected. It was uncomfortable but this talk of fates and past was an easier thing that talking of herself and soothed her anxiety.

She had never taken her hands from his in all this time. She rose from the encroaching surf, and headed back up the beach. He if he drew back from her, slender alabaster fingers would slid from his. Drawing out her deck of cards from her pouch, she sought a place where the well-loved and well-used cards could safely be used. “I cannot tell you what will come of your choice Hirem, but I can show you the roads your choices may take. You know these roads already it is only a matter of knowing that you do.” She was not so gifted an oracle to see the future. There was no magic inherent in the painted cards, it was a magic of the mind. They could show her the chances of the future and when her words mingled with his thoughts they would illuminate possibilities.

“Come with me?” She glanced back at him.

Her toes left prints in the sand still cooling from Syna’s earlier touch as she made her way back to her boots. The rock they sat upon was flat enough for her purposes but sandy. She didn’t wish to expose the cards to the elements. Her first thought was to use her shirt as a covering. She had been raised with no shame of her body, almost everyone she had known was a woman and they were the same as her in most every way. Not to mention swimming in fabric was cumbersome. Still, Eselle understood the mainland did not always share these views and she had no desire to make Hirem uncomfortable. She would have to be careful, that was the only solution readily available.

Eselle began to shuffle the cards of omens.


[Hirem]

“I see, Hirem.” Eselle began, and the tone of her voice, coupled with the sympathy in her gaze, made Hirem feel acutely vulnerable. By the gods, she must have seen. She must have seen it all. Knowing that someone had just gotten a glimpse of the full truth of his past - or worse, understood the truth - filled him with a sudden sense of dread, as well as discomfort. There can be no hiding from this woman now, he thought, no longer thinking of her gift in positive terms. To know one's past is to know the heart of one's drive, know the reasons for their every action, and Eselle has gotten a chance I rarely offer others. I spend so much time shielding my true nature from others, that I have no plan to prepare for the occasional person that gets a chance to comprehend it. Thankfully, Eselle's words were soft and free of judgement, soothing rather than condemning, but Hirem could not stop himself from reading damnation in her tone and eyes. For how can one look into the path of a monster and not be repulsed, or emboldened to action? My crimes cannot just be accepted. I have not paid the price for them.

He wanted to shy away from this Konti that had the power to bore into his soul, but could not summon the strength - or accept the weakness - necessary to do so. Instead he sat quietly at her side, hand frozen against hers, eyes staring into her own and wondering what honesty shined there. He listened to her respectfully, and could not help offering a sad smile at what comforts she gave him. “A boy who loved life as only a child can. A young man who loved as only young men can." When echoed like that, the sentiment made his life seem... normal, when he thought his story was anything but. She makes it all sound so pedestrian, as if my road is a road oft-traveled. But how can... how can that be? How can I be representative of a larger story, when my history is so filled with destruction? If every young man walked in my footsteps, Mizahar would have long ago been extinguished of life. Her other words - To lose a home is a terrible wound.” - made him drop his head in a silent nod, his eyes downcast as he took a long sigh. Perhaps I am just a homesick man, weary of the road and desperate to settle down. Perhaps I am afraid to leave Riverfall for the chance that it may worsen this painful longing.

“Though the wound still hurts you, you made a new home here?” Eselle said next, and Hirem folded his arms. "Yes," he murmured, his voice quiet and impressed with the gravity of this talk, "and friends as well. Though I don't know them as well as I'd like to, I feel that... that I've grown very, very attached to the people of this city. They are possessed with all the vibrancy and excitement that the people of Yahebah embrace, but there is also something... subdued?, about them. They are capable of great, audacious festivals, but also somber beauty. It is as if they have accepted that, sometimes, the only way to appreciate the world is to enjoy its silence." Chuckling quietly to himself, the Benshira placed his free hand onto his knee. "I have found peace here, that I haven't known for a long time. Yet I am tested by Riverfall constantly, for it demands nothing but strength and utter conviction in order to become accepted. In a way, this city encompasses everything I admire; safety, freedom, and challenging one's self to climb greater and greater heights. The thought of losing it is..."

Too difficult to easily ignore.

“Come with me?" Eselle then bid him, and Hirem followed along dutifully. He had little understanding of how fortune telling worked, only possessing strong memories of his parents advising him to avoid putting too much stock in the predictions of so-called seers. "Their first intent is to bewitch you, my son," his father had sternly warned, "not to show you the slightest hint of honesty. Be well guarded in their presence." Ordinarily, Hirem would be inclined to mistrust Eselle - even his evolving comfortableness with magic still excluded soothsayers as charlatans - but his positive attitudes towards Konti and the divine mark on her side made him much more willing to accept her powers as genuine. But he was still uncertain of what this divination process would entail. Would it just take another touch for her to survey the possibilites of my future? Or is this a more complex, muddling process? Sitting across from Eselle on the flat stone they approached, the Benshira worked to make himself comfortable, folding his legs together and keeping his mind free of stress. What do those cards mean? He wondered, staring at the seer's shuffling hands curiously. Is my future meant to be interpreted through them? What an odd ritual.

Wondering if he had to explain himself further for Eselle to perform her task properly, Hirem decided to volunteer the full truth to her - baring, of course, the identity of the Cytali. "My choice is between two wise people, and the causes they have chosen to devote themselves to. One, a woman of great power, is marshaling together allies in order to combat a terrible threat. She believes I am a potential recruit for this battle, and wishes for me to develop myself into a true warrior, versed in magic and combat equally, in order to combat these fell opponents. I am scared to take this offer up, but I feel at home among the ranks of her warriors. The other person, a man of wondrous compassion, seeks to destroy slavery within Cyphrus. I can be of great aid to him, but I must sacrifice my freedom in order to do so. Slavery was... was the reason my past is as bloody as it is. I am unsure of whether or not I wish to go down that road again." He fell into silence then, reluctant to share more.

[Eselle]

Card Spread :

[ 1 ] [ 2 ]
[ 3 ] [ 4 ]
__[ 5 ]

Listening as Hirem stated his troubles, the seer continued to shuffle the deck letting the conflict lay heavy between them. Eselle took a deep breath and laid out the five cards face down. She paused and looked over the Benshiran man again. It was not abnormal for her to read the cards for strangers, and though she had seen his past he was still all but known to her. Sometimes the cards were not kind, and that was always a worry. Still Hirem did not seem a man to reject truth or advice because it was unpleasant; his past had not implied such ignorance. “This spread of cards is for two paths, two choices. It is the best I know for your questions.”

Her hand hovered over the first card; the top left card. “This card spread is read from the end to the… start.” It lacked the poetics of her native tongue but the message was clear at least. She turned it over. The card depicted seven hand-painted gold mizas. It was one of the least embellished cards in her deck, the suits often were. Every card meant something though and none were less important in the scheme of the spread but that did mean this decision would be less significant in the seeker’s life. “The Seven Mizas, is card of thought. The Miza cards always mean money. So one of your paths may end in a difficult choice with money. I should you warn you, it may be as… regular as it sounds.”

Even in darkening night, she Konti was fairly certain she was sweating. This southern heat was more than the island child could enjoy. She flipped the second card and offered a light-hearted smile. “This is the Knight of staves. He is the second end the two roads before you. He may mean a person who loves life and does not know fear, almost childlike. The other meaning is a… thing, a time, it is quick. It is a time of leaving in haste of…” she paused again ever struggling for words, “He is escape, towards life and love. He is a good card, a good omen, Hirem.” She dwelled on the man seated upon a brilliant white horse. He had a foppish hat and an unrealistic staff reaching all the way to the ground from the horse’s back. He was not Major Arcana either but he was still a welcome sight. Eselle had worried when Hirem had presented such dire choices, perhaps both outcomes would be poor.

With relief she reached for the third card, “This card is a power which leads you to the first ending. It is the path that leads to the Seven Mizas ending. “ Another simple card returned face up, it was four chalices in a symmetrical pattern with ivy twinning between them. “This card is love and faith and… not caring. Having what most desire but not understand it. It means you passed a chance that you should have taken. “ It was an oddly definitive reading thus far. Usually she had to stretch metaphors farther to relate them to the seeker’s problems but tonight that was not yet the case.


She turned the fourth card and a major arcana turned back up at them. It was the Chariot, which was usually a good card to see but it had been drawn upside down. Unlike a traditional Chariot card though, this one showed two great seahorses pulling chariot like stand through the water. The rider was once again Konti but she held a trident forward reading to attack. “This is the Chariot Hirem. It is part of your fears I think. You or someone around you will use their power against the weak or… good people. This is the card that leads to the second, the Knight of staves.” Eselle didn’t know what else to say, the Chariot reversed could very well mean Hirem falls back into the pattern he most feared. There were other options though, he might be the recipient of the abuse, or a witness. Eselle sent a quick prayer that is the later and that he would not torment himself so.

With quiet reverence she flipped the final card. It was once again reversed, four swords clashed while a fifth stone alone between them. “This is what will make you decide the path you take. It is failing to achieve success because you fear being… disliked or treated poorly. It is friendship kept when you abandoned your chance to gain.” She looked over the whole spread, it had been quite definitive in her mind. Although, the cards had once again not been entirely polite.

“As a whole this spread wants you to take the choice of risk Hirem. That is what I see, but what you see is what matters most. You know pieces of the outcomes now and so you may make a better decision.” Eselle had come to Riverfall to make friends, but tonight it seemed her honesty would advise this new acquaintance to leave. Still she suspected even once his duties were done he would return again; Riverfall had a peace that most of Mizahar lacked. Until her call was complete the seerer would not return to Mura, but perhaps she could find it here amongst the serenity of the waterfalls.

[Hirem]

Unsure of how to make sense of a... of a card game divining his future, Hirem sat in quiet silence and kept his hands tightly pressed into his knees, watching carefully as the Konti's fingers played out the sigils of his destiny. Is it Avalis' will that guides her hand? Is it Lhex himself that dictates what may or may not be revealed at this time? Or is it just chance what she withdraws, a fluke that has no impact on my life? He was uncomfortable in this position, waiting for a soothsayer to ply her craft, and wanted to ask for answers now - but he was sure that if he did that, the answers might be lost forever. He bid his time by staring into the eyes of Eselle, by staring out to sea and the distant, majestic Leth, by praying to Yahal that this reading might prove honest and true. If you are of a mind to steer your faithful to the proper path, lend your wisdom to the Konti's hand and let my future be shown to me. I beg of you.

The first card that was revealed to him was... disappointing, to say the least. "The Seven Mizas?" He began, nodding his head slowly and cocking it to the side. Forgive my pride, but I believed that my path signified more than just... than treasure being thrown onto my lap. Try as he might, he could not imagine either path he had available ending with him becoming a richer or poorer man. Although, there was a chance that by siding with Caelum, he might find himself a slave forever, stripped of both his freedom and the ability to stake his claim in the world. The idea that he might never purchase a home, or provide for others, and be forced to live a nomad forever wasn't too appealing. Even my Tent's patriarch worried over sums and differences, for without trade with Ahnatep and foreign merchants, we would be denied the luxuries that my people love.

The second card that Eselle withdrew was much more impactful to him, and he actually sat up as she offered its description. The Knight of Staves? A man that loves life and does not know fear, that is distanced from all the trouble of the world and symbolizes a good life. That is... that is something I desire very much. To be free of the maddening fear that tormented his nights and soured his days, and to live in the light of something greater than himself... that was an existence he wanted to fight for. But what choice ended in that path? Surely, choosing to align himself with the Cytali would offer him a home among those who were beloved to him, but could he sleep with himself at night? Could he rest easy, knowing that elsewhere in the world, others were stripped of the liberty that he had once fought so dearly for? On the other hand, how could getting enslaved lead to a happier life for himself?

The third and fourth cards were similarly baffling for him, for he could not make sense of which choice referred to which path. If he passed over an opportunity that he should have taken, he would lead a happy life that would result in... a difficult choice involving money. And if he... if he did what he most feared doing, and used his strength against those he wanted he protect, he would have a good and happy life, absent of fear? What manner of devilry is this? Can she not clearly pronounce my fate in understandable terms? The fifth card shed little insight into the matter, informing him that current choice existed because he was afraid of achieving success, because it might end up with him being disliked. Disliked... Hirem reflected, pursing his lips tightly. Such a mundane word for what can be called exile. I wish to return to the Benshira a son that Biyram would be proud of... I wish to make myself known to Yahal as a servant of his will. If I fail, I might become an exile from both, and live forever without a home. Or if I succeed, I might become an exile because I have become that which I hate, the Chariot.

He drew further and further into himself as he considered the fortune telling, his eyes narrowed and his fingers clenching tight round his flesh until the knuckles grew pale. The choice now is between risk and safety. If I become Cytali, I will have forsaken this momentary risk and instead get to build up my strength, become a true Dreamwalker that can battle the Ruv'na menace. And if I join Caelum in his crusade, I will instead seize that risk and throw myself into harm's way, so that slaves from Kenash might have a chance at freedom. My strength will be my means of power, and whether I use it for good, or for evil, will decide my fate. And my dearest wish is to become a Knight of Staves... a man that knows no fear, that lives in the simple wonderment of the world. How best to reach it? How?!

"By giving of myself to others," he murmured, glancing over to Eselle. "By sacrificing that which I am, to give others a chance at freedom. To use my strength for good, and not to become a tyrant." For that was the mistake I made in my youth. The answer calmed him, reassured him, released him from the chains of indecision. All at once, he felt his bones become weak and his head tilted forward, arms flailing clumsily about to draw Eselle into an awkward embrace. "Thank you..." he breathed, closing his eyes and batting away tears. "I... I would not have made sense of myself if we hadn't met." The words were oddly used and felt metallic on his tongue, but he used them anyway, for he had no other way to express his gratitude. Pulling back from the Konti after a brief moment's hug, he looked to her, smiled, and nodded slowly. "I... ah," he began, unsure of what to say next. "Are you too warm?" He finally asked, noticing her sweat. "It is probably too hot here. We can adjourn to a more comfortable place."