Found Among the Driftwood (Open)

[Aon]

The 45th Day of Fall, 510 A.V.

He woke as from a blessed dream into a nightmare. Where he had been wrapped in swirling warmth there was now a cold wet chill lapping upon his skin. Ears that were tuned to the sweet music of the celestial spheres now rang with the cacophony of mundane sounds. Worst of all, eyes that beheld the shining smiling face of Syna, that saw the favour in her eyes were now shrouded in distorted darkness. Even now the very fragrance of her divine presence was being purged from him by a pungent sickly scent of salt.

And he wept as a newborn infant might weep at the first gasp of air except he was not born now into an eternity of bliss but naked into the ravages of mortality. He felt the passage of time scrape by, tearing at his soul like razorblades drawing endless scars deep into his psyche. He felt lost and confused, nothing but pain. He had been cut adrift from heaven, from Syna, who was nurse, mother and lover – all he held dear.

He knew not where he was nor when nor how nor why but none of this mattered – only the sense of loss. His corporeal form lay still upon the soft sands of the beach. He prayed for an end to this terror but it never came. He had fallen during the break of dawn. It was as if Syna was peering out into the darkness looking for her lost soul, the one that slipped from her grasp. His golden form lay in the surf and glittered as the rays of light bathed his bare skin. That warmth, however, could not drive the coldness of the water that was slowly sapping the heat from him away. His long slender limbs were becoming numb and his skin grew more silver and pale.

His mind began to flit to other times and places. Things that had been long forgotten and buried while he was eternal came into view. Faces he could not name appeared before him and faded one after another. He had forgotten the sorrow of being mortal where all things would pass.

And so he lay lost among the other detritus of the sea waiting for the one sure release from torment. He waited quietly and patiently to die.

[Liel]

It was morning, and Liel was frozen upon the sand. She did not know who he was, or where he had come from. There was such excruciating pain emanating from his limpid, washed up body on the shore that for a split second, she considered running, backing off, leaving him there. For a split second. But she knew she never could. She had left her sisters lounging about and thought to call out to them, but his agony incapacitated her. To tell you the truth, even if she could, she wasn't sure if she would. This seemed far too strange for an ordinary morning. Liel took a few steps forward. Satchel clasped tightly in hand, she was not an intimidating sight. She looked fragile, able to be blown about by any moment. Though the morning was beautiful, the autumn winds were rough, especially by the sea. She was all awkward limbs and flying white fabric and large eyes, uneasy. Almost afraid. Silent. She was afraid that if she got too close, he would magically jump up and -- and what, Liel? Well, attack her. Take her herb kit. Just do something so cliche and dangerous, punishment for being an idiot and running over like some tipsy little tart to help a complete stranger, why, she'd never hear the end of it -- But there he was, and as she got closer, he looked so distraught and was so distraught that almost unconsciously, compelled, she kneeled down beside him and peered, inches away from his face. As if she could somehow silence his pain by just staring. But of course that would not work, so she began to examine him. Where had he come from? What were those marks, was he still breathing? "Can you hear me?"

[Aon]

In the light of the morning, his form clothed only in sea-weed and surf, the Ethaefal was still a wonder to behold. He was like a shiny perfect statue washed ashore. His skin was iridescent and his hair and elegant horns were translucent. But these were not features that Liel could yet see for his lay with his face against the sand, covered by his dishevelled mane with his back towards her.

Aon had felt serene in his dying but he began to wonder if it was a futile act. He had lived so long in an eternal state that he pondered if this was nothing more than some dream. He had learned patience but something was amiss. The waiting seemed interminable. He lay there nonetheless listening to the sound of surf and birds overhead.

But then a voice. It was a woman’s voice and it drew him from the solitude of his reverie. At first he mistook it for the voice of the one he had always heard in his heart but the tone and inflection of the common tongue was certainly not that which the goddess Syna had so often spoken to him in. His entire existence reminded him only of what he had lost. His immaterial body with all its divinely endowed senses were now gone, replaced by a shape he did not even know. But that voice – in a language he had mostly forgotten tethered him now to this new reality. It was no dream.

Yet one impulse came to him when he heard those words uttered: curiosity. So he stirred slightly, only if to test the abilities of his new body. In the eyes of any other person living his physical presence was one that whispered divine perfection in beauty and grace but in his own eyes his body was a crude vessel that imprisoned his being which was used to soaring and feats beyond imagining in the celestial realm. And so he only moved slightly, giving Liel the slimmest indication that he did indeed hear her. He would have spoken, but his new tongue was unfamiliar in his mouth and common was a language he had not heard or spoken for centuries.

He also realized that this body had eyes to see and he suddenly wanted to know the appearance of the creature that now addressed him. So he simply turned and looked over his shoulder. His flashing golden irises alighted upon a slim woman with hair that reminded him of a fresh fall of snow. She was the first thing he had truly seen since being born into the world again and so he simply gazed upon her as if drinking in every aspect of her.

[Liel]

Then he turned, and she started, drew back in surprise. Ethaefal. She had been inching closer, and closer, and closer, curious enough to perhaps touch his face and turn him over (somehow, he was substantially larger than her, but she was always one to cross bridges once they were actually there), then... He turned. Turned, and stared, and she stared back, wide eyes and took in the horns, the strange semblance of majesty between sea-strewn hair, draped in seaweed, cold. He was gazing at her own hair and she lowered her line of vision slightly, aware that even for a Konti daughter, her snow-white hair was unusually colourless. Even the sun found no golden reflection upon it. But her thoughts digressed, and through her self-consciousness, Liel shifted back to her original position. Close, but not too close. She did not want to offend. He did not look likely to attack, however, seeing as of this moment, in all the staring like two newborns who had never seen other life, his curiousity rivalled hers. "Welcome to Mura, Ethaefal." Delicately webbed fingers flitted over her satchel and her lips formed a small pout, contemplating. "You're hurt, I'm not sure if you can speak. I am here to help you. Where are you injured?"

[Aon]

He heard her words, understood some of their meaning, observed the movement of her lips but it still confused him. He wanted to open his mind to her but could not. Nor could he peer into her thoughts and share them as he once did with all other beings that moved within Syna’s radiance. There was an invisible barrier between all creatures in this way of life and now he sensed that same barrier between himself and this kind woman.

He saw the shining scales flash upon parts of her skin, her webbed hands but knew not what she was. He had not heard of Mura nor Ethaefal. He knew his name but knew he could no longer speak it for it was not a form of reference but something so much more that communicated the very essence of his soul. This too confused him. He was no longer what he was.

He knew she wanted to help him but his wound was not physical, not at least as far as he could tell. He only knew of the spiritual tear within him, the confinement within this material body and his separation from the goddess. He was unaware of the dangers of exposure and that the cold of the sea had in fact sapped the warmth from his uncovered body. The slowness of his thoughts and the numbness he felt and the confusion attending him were not just results of his fall through the rift but hypothermia. The death he had waited for was indeed taking hold. But these things he did not know and did not remember from his previous incarnation.

He could not speak and so he simply smiled a weak but genuine smile at the benevolence and good will of this pretty creature. The light in him was slowly fading and his hands had started shaking.

[Liel]

He smiled, and before she knew it, Liel had smiled back, radiant. There was so much warmth and beauty in his smile that when she realized his hands were shaking, she herself grew cold. She was loathe to move him without first examining injuries, but if she did not, he might -- "Ethaefal," she said softly, firmly. "I am going to bring you somewhere warm, or you will surely die." Murmuring an apology incase she worsened any possible wounds by moving him, she clasped his hands within hers and, after blowing a warm stream of air upon them, gently turned him over. The next few moments were cautious, slow, careful. On his back, then sitting, then staggering to his knees, feet, arm slung desolately around her shoulders. His head bowed low, heavy curtain of hair dripping, dripping. She could smell the saltwater upon her own skin, now. She had covered him with her cloak, taking the alternate route to her home. Her mother was not in the house, and her sisters she had left at the other end of the beach -- she did not need their worry at this moment. There were only two things on her mind: cloth and fire. But the end of the beach seemed hours away and his steps were strained. Liel assumed him a mute, of some sort. Eager and worried, she canted her face towards his downcast one. Several metres away from the cold sand, she gently set him back down. It was much warmer here, the heat of the sun clinging to loose particles of gold. She fastened the cloak tigher around him, covering his head, blowing on his hands once more. "If you can understand me," she said, trying as best as she could to keep the sun directly upon his body, "Blink twice if you feel strong enough to go on. My home is not too far from here."

[Aon]

Awareness came like the dawn, creeping over all that it touched, driving back the darkness of unknowing. Her voice, her touch, awakened the slumber of his senses. He felt the grit of the fine sand, the caress of the breeze, the salty air, the sound of gulls, and the cold – the biting cold that was seeping into him. He was beginning to shiver as she examined him. Her searching eyes found not open wounds, only sand upon his alabaster skin.

Aon’s eye flitted to alight on everything that surrounded them but he kept returning to looking upon Liel’s face. Her visage was an anchor, a reference for everything else he saw. It was a strange but great reprieve from the cold when she clothed his nakedness with her cloak. The texture of cloth upon his skin was novel, as was when she had warmed his hands and blow the sand from them. Everything was new and she was a gentle tutor of this new life.

He found strength in his limbs he had not known for he had never used them before now. He no longer resigned himself to being adrift but rose with her guidance from being completely prone to standing. She was so petite as he stood slightly hunched over her. Step by step they moved. She had a delicate figure and he did not want to burden her with his own weight. With each step he discovered new strength. The truth was that his fallen form was created with as much strength as was needed and more. She was teaching him to walk perhaps even to live again.

He noted her patience and the questions in her face as they walked. He continued to look from her to their surroundings and back to her again. He studied the shape of her face, her eyes, her nose, her lips. There was a mixture of familiarity and foreignness to her physical presence. He remembered women in his past but they were unclear to him. He had existed in rapt attention to Syna for so long he forgotten all other beings.

He sat after several paces and yielded to her ministrations with gratitude. It was not only his hands that were shaking now but his body shivered. He could feel the warmth of Syna’s smile upon his outer extremities, but a chill had taken hold in his bones. He lamented how frail his body was. Liel, however, seemed to know about bodies. Her attentiveness belied a deeper wisdom about such things. Perhaps she would be able to teach him both the strengths and limitations of his new form.

She stooped to communicate, looking into his face to test his comprehension. He did more than blink. He pulled his shivering form up as far as he could and returned her gaze. He freed one hand and placed it upon her cheek, nodded and blinked twice.

[Liel]

Her eyes closed, slow, an instant reaction to his touch. A rolling wave of his thoughts, emotions, distant shades of past lives and words, but not words, incomprehensible, a pushing and pulling, a tugging, a wrenching, and her lips parted, gasping red -- Who are you? She could make no sense of it, only felt -- felt what? How could one feel something they did not understand -- moreover, what if they possessed not the capacity to understand? But when she opened her eyes, he nodded, and in an amusing, endearing way, did as she asked. He blinked twice. His entire body was shaking. "Open your mouth," she instructed -- or ventured to. Her voice had diminished to near-whisper, shaky. The intensity of his tangle of thoughts flinging through with such force was unprecedented, almost upsetting. But she could not dwell on it, not now. Her kit was before her. A shred of leaf was on her fingertip and she very gently placed it on his tongue. The plant was hot, slightly painful, but guaranteed temporary warmth. More than enough to get him to her home. They stood once more and though he shook, Liel was grateful to find that he grew more certain with every step and she smiled, a knowing sort of cheshire grin. She had genuinely believed he would not pass away, but to feel his weight lifting with each stride, was an incredible relief. Snuck a look, blinked. She giggled. His skin, beautifully alabaster, was now tinged a faint shade of pink. "Please don't hate me," she said, voice almost back to normal. "It will do you a world of good, I promise." They entered her home through the back, an elegant construct of white not unlike the other houses that spotted the shores of Mura. And before he knew it, Aon was rugged up in several layers of thick cloth, and seated in front of a roaring fire. Liel herself did not use the fireplace much, it served as a tool for creating... other tools, but had always possessed a certain fascination for it. The raw element was so alien to her mother and sisters, but there was something about the tongues of flame that almost hypnotized her. It was like water. She sat beside him, quiet, watching the fire. Knees drawn up to chin, pools of light striking lash shadows along her cheekbones. She had an awkward sort of fear about looking at him, but just knowing that he was being warmed up was more than enough. After a few more moments of silence, she broke it, deeming herself silly for being afraid. She was never afraid, and scolded herself. So with a confident toss of white locks -- a toss so characteristic of young, naive girls, she stretched out her arms and splayed her fingers out towards the fire. "You should sleep soon, but for now... like this," she said, gaze sparkling. "It makes your hands warm."

[Aon]

He opened his mouth obediently, trusting that this woman would do him no harm and she placed something into his mouth. It was then he experienced a sensation that both startled yet delighted him. Whatever it was she put in his mouth grew warm, hot even to stinging. He closed his mouth around it and could taste the unique flavours of the plant. The taste was neither pleasant nor unpleasant since he had nothing else to compare it to but it was uncomfortable. He had not eaten for ages nor had he the need to. Again Liel had awakened still another sense-memory for him.

The herb did indeed warm him and he could feel its effects descend from his mouth down towards the centre of his body as he chewed it and eventually swallowed it. It certainly helped keep the chill in him at bay as he staggered to his feet with her help. The walk to her home became easier with time and each step he took became stronger. By the time they reached her house he was able to move with proficiency and the shivering in him had mostly subsided.

He surveyed her home carefully even as she piled blankets of some sort upon him. The fire too reminded him of so many things. The blazing warmth of it was like being in the presence of Syna. Yet the flickering brought back a vision of another place, another home where he sat in a similar fashion in a room full of people, his family, his friends, his clan. It was but a passing memory he could not retain. For now it was only the kindly woman at his side who was guiding him into his experiences in the world again.

She stretched out her hands to the fire and invited him to do the same so he followed her lead. He looked at her webbed hands with curiosity but then noticed that she seemed shy, only giving him sidelong glances.

He cocked his head to one side and tried to remember the words. Struggling slightly with his tongue, he said, “Th-thank you.” The words surprised even himself but they also encouraged him to further practice. “I-I am Aon...” he managed slowly. His face showed disappointment however as he tried to verbalize his name but found that he could not pronounce what was ineffable. “Aon,” he said again slightly resigned to this limited term of reference. “I am Aon.” He dismissed the disappointment, the first, he was sure, of many still to come, and smiled.

“Who are you?” he queried since he had no reference for the woman who sat next to him.

[Liel]

He could speak. And just like that, she leaned close once more, a mirror-move of locked eyes by the sea. This time she was not even aware of her shyness, or her reservations. This time she simply replied. "Liel." Lee-el. "My name is Liel." The Ethaefal -- Aon, could speak. Aon. "Aon," she repeated, delighting at the feel of his name on her tongue. It was foreign, distant, encompassing. "Aon, Aon." She laughed. "It is lovely." __ If Liel felt any tinge of fear at having bought home a stranger, it was unmerited. That afternoon, as lunch drew close, Aon was treated to a true Lararian meal. Lararia, her mother, was known throughout Mura for her cooking. Wisely, however, Lararia kept the news of the Ethaefal stranger close, as his story still seemed to be in its fragile stages. As the meal finished, and conversation came to a pleasant finish, Liel led Aon to the underground portion of her home. Most of the bedrooms were situated here. The air was cool, fresh, slightly sea-grit. They descended upon swirling white stairs and carved banisters, the light of the afternoon sun cluttering smooth walls. She walked ahead, in good spirits. Her steps were light, happy. She was glad to see he had regained his strength. But he still needed rest, at least for emotion's sake. His room was sparse, but sweet -- a bed, a soft rug, candles and flowers. Everything seemed to float in shades of cream and dove gray, pieces of blue glass. She stood in the doorway, a silhouette. "You'll be safe here," kindly. "If you need me, my room is three doors to the left, down the hallway." She paused, hesitant. Then, "I'm happy I met you, today." She turned. "Sweet dreams, Aon."