[T&T] Do You Know My Name?

by **Tazrae** on March 7th, 2022, 12:37 am

Timestamp: 10th of Spring, 522 A.V.
Evening at The Outpost.

It was late afternoon before Tazrae made it through the Dovecote to The Outpost. She normally would be burdened down by goodies, but she hadn’t had any time to do any baking this morning between Oralie waking them all up with her nightmare. Then there’d been the unloading of the ship, the lunch prep, and pretty much everything going wrong that could go wrong. Taz still didn’t know what exactly was happening, but her last straw had been when the fifth person she knew well enough to know their favorite foods had asked her if she was new to Syka and welcomed her to the Settlement. Even Bree… Bree whom she considered her best non-human friend had hissed at her and faked being feral when she’d tried to have a decent conversation with the Ixam. That part had furrowed Tazrae’s eyebrows and caused the jungle ixam to flash her teeth at Tazrae when Tazrae had stopped, planted her hands on her hips and simply said… “Oh stop it. I know you can talk.”

The Innkeeper had to get out of there. She had to talk to someone sane. Alric came to mind immediately, so she skipped baking and just grabbed fresh fruit in the form of a big bunch of bananas and a bag of mangos she’d gathered the previous day and headed for the Outpost. It had taken her almost no time to arrive at the T&T and slip inside. She laid the bunch of bananas on the table and added the bag of mangos to it. Alric could trade what he didn’t want, the extras, for any supplies he might have needed. The sight of the bunch made her smile. It was one of her first foraging lessons in the jungle. A single banana was called a finger. A cluster of bananas was called a hand, and the whole stem of them growing was the bunch. There were probably forty to fifty bananas in her bundle and that would definitely flush out the pantry if the groceries were getting thin here.

“Alric?” She called, then began the quick search of the apartment. It was spacious but not in a way that someone could easily hide. He wasn’t asleep in the bedroom and he wasn’t in the bathing chamber or privy. He wasn’t even studying in the philtering lab that did need a good cleaning. Taz sighed, fear rising in her. She’d stopped by the office and the manager there, Dell, had tried to sell her an apartment. The old man that watched over the Dovecote on the Outpost side hadn’t known her either and he’d been greeting her by name since she had started coming over regularly. She’d tried to leave him a hand of bananas from the bunch she had over her shoulder, but he’d only glared at her with suspicion.

Taz knew she was in trouble. That pit in her stomach was growing wider and darker. And she had to have a solution immediately. Used to thinking on her feet, Taz headed to the Open Sky Bazaar to see if she could perhaps come across Alric in his regular haunts. She knew he’d taken to checking the weapons traders regularly seeking a Voril blade, but so far had been unsuccessful. She walked among the crowds there, unhappy and wary, wondering if he’d come back from Sunberth tonight. Was he okay? And more importantly would he know her?

The crowds wove past the weapons and deeper into the market where fine furniture was made. Taz a lover of furniture, but most of what she had in Syka was stuff that was rough-hewn and made by hand. She’d had finer stuff in Riverfall, but those days and the days of her family’s Inn with its antique furniture – most of which was probably a lie anyhow – were long gone. She’d sourced the beds and dressers from The Outpost thankfully, but most of the rest of the stuff in Syka was made for comfort and durability in the jungle... and nothing more.

A dealer caught her eye. He sold Hope chests and other interesting things. Made by a skilled carpenter, the pieces shown. Most of them had ornate metal work on them that added to their value considerably. A smaller chest among the things caught her eye… something table sized with a slot in the top. She slipped into the booth of chests and studied the smaller one intently. A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Open it. It’s a letterbox.” The craftsman said.

Taz glanced up at him and at the invitation, reached out and gently opened the lid. It was beautiful inside, lined with a fine material and smelling of the wood it was made from. She ran her hands across it lovingly, the box itself giving her an idea. She looked up, met the man’s eyes, and swallowed the panic inside her. “The Gods put things in our path for a reason, don’t they? How much do you want for it? It looks priceless.” She said softly, knowing she had the coin on her because she had her backpack.

“Miss.. it’s a sturdy lock, ornate letterbox with two keys. I can’t take less than fifty gold for it.” Taz nodded, not wanting to argue with him. It had craftsmanship aplenty and it would do for what she needed it for. She slipped her backpack off her shoulder, reached inside, and pulled out a hefty coin purse that she didn’t quite reveal from the inside of the backpack. She counted out the coins, handed them to him, and he reached under his counter and pulled two golden keys from a chest he kept under his front table. He read the tag on it, nodded, and handed the keys to her. She picked up the chest, tucking it under her arm, and reshouldered her backpack. Then she was off to get writing supplies.

At a stationer’s booth, Taz picked up a package of real paper, twenty sheets of it, ink, and a pair of glass nibbed quills. She handed the stationer another fifteen gold mizas for the items, and headed back through the food market to get some fresh baked goods. She swung by the wine seller and got a small keg to restock their supplies with then headed back towards the apartment. When she arrived, it was still empty, so she headed in to the spare bedroom where they’d moved the desk and sat down at it.

Taz thought back a moment, then started to recreate the first lettier she’d given him, noting at the top of it that it was a re-write of something she’d sent him on the 73rd of Winter. It had been so long since she’d seen Alric, Taz just felt the panic grow in her. It twisted her guts and made it hard for her to write. She’d stayed away too long. She’d acted selfishly, licking her wounds and roaming the jungle – picking people like Brosh for company – instead of the man who occupied so much of her heart. Taz didn’t blame him at all for her grandfather’s actions. But she blamed herself for her inability to be able to truly face him in the aftermath. She hadn’t been strong enough, then she’d been transformed into something she wasn’t sure he was going to like. And to top it all off, the full sleeve gnosis mark on her left arm was alive with the scenes of the jungle now because so much of it had awakened. Would he even recognize her if he even remembered her?

She knew he’d been here recently. Things were clean, the firewood was stocked, and the place looked lived in. A book had a place marked in it near his favorite seat and the fire had been burned recently. Once she finished writing out the reproduction of the first letter she’d sent him, she paused to set a fire in the fireplace and moved to the couch. She sat the letterbox up on what she’d been jokingly thinking of as their ‘library’ which was nothing more than a sturdy wooden bookcase. She placed the first letter in the letterbox then started on the second one. The second one took her longer. It was a just in case thing… in case he was like everyone else in Syka and had no idea of who she was.

Then she sat down to wait for his return, the letter in her hand, being neatly folded and slid into a second sheet of paper as an envelope neatly folded around it. She could stay awhile… most of the night in fact. But she might leave before he arrived if he didn’t plan on coming tonight. And if that was the case… she’d leave the letter inside the open letterbox as an explanation. She’d have to depart before sunrise tomorrow, that much was true, for she had guests to see too… two of which were half-starved children that wouldn’t even remember her name.

Words: 1508

expenses :

by **Alric Lysane** on March 7th, 2022, 7:34 am

Life had a strange way of surprising you, he was beginning to sense, things having changed much since the last Spring he had experienced. As he trudged his way through Sunberth, the streets filled with anticipation of the celebrations to come that evening, and towards the Dovecote he reflected that he knew that more than most. Last Spring, he had been living hand to mouth, not really a miza to his name and no reputation to trade off of. They were cold, bitter memories and far from the only ones of that nature. Yet he had been happy, after a fashion. This Spring, upon the first day, he was richer and more established – at least in the sordid night-time practises of Sunberth – and well fed…but there was something missing.

As the Outpost materialised before him and he stepped into its heated embrace he wasn’t sure what it was. As he sifted himself through the crowds, pushing his way towards the Bazaar, he couldn’t quite put his finger upon the knot, as if he knew it was there but he kept slipping past it when he tried to locate it. It was a strange feeling, almost gut instinct, and he had learned to trust such things. Perhaps he was growing paranoid, it had been a while since he had learned of his nemesis, the man to whom vengeance didn’t quite express his feelings fully toward, yet he had been safe – at least so far. No assassins, hunters, mercenaries or mages had appeared to come claim him in his name.

“Perhaps they never will” he muttered to himself as he scanned the stalls for anything that might grab his interest, though not truly believing the words.

His eyes darted this way and that, making sure that faces were scanned where possible and remembered in case they reappeared magically later in his path. He was alone and so a healthy dose of paranoia had taught him it was useful. It had certainly saved him a number of times already. Still, he saw no one he recognised and so his shoulders relaxed slightly. He enjoyed the Bazaar, which was something he’d not thought would be possible at first. He couldn’t quite remember when his opinions had changed from disliking outsiders, and instead into living amongst them, but he did not regret that decision. His heart would always be in Sunberth, it had nowhere else it could truly be, but the Outpost was safer and filled with many more curiosities.

Scanning the weapons and discussing new orders with the vendors that had come to know him by name he found nothing in the way of a Voril blade, though there were many new things he found that piqued his interests. In particular he was quite taken with a small, exquisitely made crossbow – a hand version he had been informed – that seemed quite compact for the narrow streets that were his most dangerous haunts. He asked the vendor to out one aside for a day as he considered the decision, it was an expensive addition to his arsenal, and he wasn’t quite sure how good he might be with its use. The vendor agreed, also putting aside the bow and also a quiver and a selection of bolts upon the promise Alric would return the following day. Leaving the vendor he caught sight of an exquisitely beautiful woman, taking some time to lean against the support post of the gazebo, simply watching and enjoying the way her hips moved even whilst burdened with the chest and bag she was carrying.

“Not many like that in Sunberth” he said, taking an apple out of his pocket and drawing his dagger to begin slicing it up to eat, the woman now lost amongst the throng but Alric contemplative as he watched the crowd from his place of seclusion.

It was painfully true, even the girls at Ruby’s were painfully aware of his solitary nature. Nessilie came closest to being what one might call a companion, at least since the riots had broken out and she had helped by stitching his wounds. She had taken to being closer to him since, though whether that was affection or self-preservation was always difficult to tell given that a strong punch alone might injure her Symenestran form. He had refused all offers of a ‘reward’ for his efforts, though he couldn’t remember why. Looking back, it seemed more honourable than he was, or more foolish.

His motto of taking what one could before it was lost forever seemed to have evaporated the last season or so and it was somewhat amusing to him. Bron was the closest he had to a friend, though she had been distant of late. Pausing he wondered if he should search for her, making a mental note. She may have avoided him after the brawl at Brega’s, but that didn’t mean he wished to see her dead from drugs in a gutter somewhere. His life was both more populated, yet more vacated at the same time, it seemed.

Sighing to himself he finished his apple before sheathing his dagger and stepping out into the Bazaar once more. Eventually he found his way back to the apartment, his purchases two more daggers with sheaths, hidden about his person, not Voril but of good steel and sharp of edge, nonetheless. He didn’t notice the other occupant at first, so lost was he in his thoughts, but as the lock clicked and he turned he noticed and as quickly as he could marshal his control his Djed was flooding from his ‘well’ and into both his senses and his body. Shielding would be too slow, but he could defending himself well enough with the other two if required. Both his Auristics and Flux were passive, for now, the Djed simply rippling through him. Still, his muscles tensed, and he felt himself involuntarily readying for potential confrontation.

It was the woman from the market he realised after a few moments, his gaze flicking between her and the box she had been carrying – now set up neatly in a prominent position. His eyes flicked through the room quickly and saw no dangers, no weapons poking out from hidden enemies or traps set as far as he could tell. His gaze returned to the woman, taking her in as he leaned his back against the door, ensuring nothing could sneak up on him from behind. The post he assumed was nonchalant but able to be changed quickly. A few more moments passed, of taking her in, admiring and also assessing her, before speaking.

“I saw you in the market. Strange you should find your way into my home shortly after,” he said, his tone and gaze neutral and calculating, “at first I thought I was lucky to see such a beauty, if briefly, now I’m wondering if Arcadius sent you”

“If he did, his intelligence is appalling, he got the date wrong. Birthday surprises are traditionally given on one’s birthday. You’re six days too early. I’d let you come back later but if he did send you, I think we both know that’s not going to happen. If he didn’t send you then you can come back later for the fun surprise…after explaining why you are here, who you are and how you got in here when I have the only key and I’m pretty sure it takes a decent thief to pick that lock without breaking it”

by **Tazrae** on March 8th, 2022, 4:45 am

Tazrae didn’t react. Reacting abruptly or impulsively around a son of Sunberth wasn’t a good thing. Instead, she simply turned her head slowly to face him instead of the fire and drank in the sight of him. He was whole. He was alive. And the controlled power within him coiled around him ready to react. She could almost feel it as a tangible thing. Something inside her contracted around her heart and she let out a long slow breath. She knew he’d been fine. All evidence indicated such. But it had been sixty days since she’d seen him. And it was her own fault; her cowardice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Tazrae shifted her weight until her bare feet slipped up and onto the coffee table before the fire. Her light sandals were discarded at her feet. She used her tanned legs visible as the skirt slipped back towards her lap, calculatingly, to display her hands as she reached out to gently drape her arms on her knees. One hand was empty, another held a letter. The Innkeeper carefully lifted it, as if to offer it to him. “This is for you. I just finished writing it. I was going to leave it here if you didn’t return tonight.” She said softly, her voice lyrical even though it was only just above a whisper.

Her own blue eyes sought his out across the distance. She found his eyes were sapphire chips of cold stone, blank, which to Tazrae screamed of his wariness. His words confirmed them. She took a deep breath. It was oddly a relief to face him without the knowledge that something had happened to her and that he’d blame himself. Tazrae had killed a man. That situation… that confrontation she’d been hiding from had simply vanished as if all her willing it away had worked. It was obvious to her, like everyone she cared about in Syka, Alric didn’t know her.

Instead, there was something else here to face, something Tazrae couldn’t decide if it was worse or not.

“My name is Tazrae. This is for you.” She said offering him the letter by waving it gently in the air, then setting it down on the coffee table and sliding it towards him.

“I am willing to answer any and all of your questions, both spoken and unspoken, after you read it. I will not move from this spot until then. And I assure you I am unarmed.” She said, shifting slightly. It was true she wore a lightweight brightly-dried dress of isuas, the fabric they favored in Syka. It was an odd tidbit of information, much like the isuas pants he wore now. Being from Sunberth, he shouldn’t have known what they were.

“Just please ask me the questions and let me answer them before you run me through with any number of the weapons I suspect you have tucked about yourself. I am unarmed and completely unwilling to raise a hand to you in anger or treachery. Though, perhaps, there has been a time or two I’ve been willing to throw something at you in frustration.” She admitted softly, then smiled. She took a deep breath, then another. Breathing was definitely getting easier.

This was hard… really hard. But it was infinitely easier than facing him with bruises about her body and telling him how she’d failed terribly at fighting off Arcadius’ men and how she’d let herself get captured and tortured despite all their brave training. It hadn’t been enough and even now it might never be enough.

“Your home isn’t solely your home. I have a key to it as well and we both share ownership. Arcadius didn’t send me. I know who he is though. He is both our enemy. He is also my Grandfather by blood, though I have never met him.” She said candidly, not willing to lie to him at all. “I didn’t know it was your birthday so soon. You never told me. If I would have known I would have made you a cake. I enjoy making cakes tremendously. I have a nice bourbon from Riverfall that would make an amazing filling for a spice cake. White cake flour, just enough spice to make it melt on your tongue without overpowering the vanilla bean I plan to add. If I live through this night, I’ll bring it for you in six days.” She said softly, reaching up to her face to brush a wayward curl out of her eyes. The caramel hair was busy escaping her loose ponytail as if it had a life of its own.

“We’ve been learning magic together from a tome I borrowed from one of the Founders of Syka. Its odd because being Nymkarta you took to it like a duckling takes to water. But one thing you couldn’t learn without induction was Reimancy. I promised to return today…. this day especially… to induct you into it. Something happened last season that kept me away a while. I got hurt. But I’m better now… only… I woke up this morning and headed down to the Common’s when the Veronica put into port. We help unload the ship as a community since she brings tradegoods. But after I was there a while… I noticed no one knew me. I know everyone in Syka. I know quite a few people here as well now. But not one single person remembers my name. I have no idea why. Even Dell, who sold us this apartment last season tried to sell me another one not recognizing me. My own Ixam, Bree, doesn’t even recognize me. She pretended to be a wild one… rather than say hello.” Taz whispered quietly.

“I had hoped that whatever was going on wouldn’t have touched you. But it has. You have no idea who I am. I’m so sorry, Alric… that I stayed away so long. I was a coward. And the last thing I would ever do is break a promise to you. I’m here to induct you, like I said I would be… and while I’m not as strong as I could be… I don’t think there’s any time we can waste waiting any more. Arcadius is in Syka – at least his people are – and nowhere is safe. If I don’t do this now… there may never be another chance.” She said carefully.

Gods… he looked good. Taz had missed him. She’d missed him terribly. And she wondered, for an insane moment if he’d be open to lighting up his pipe… just for a bit. The Innkeeper didn’t ask him though. She wasn’t that special kind of stupid. Instead, she just gave him time and let him absorb what he’d read in the letter and what she’d told him this morning. “Something is happening in Syka. I don’t know what it is. But other people are affected… I just am not sure exactly how so far.” She added, then grew quiet to let him absorb and react.

Words: 1169

by **Alric Lysane** on March 8th, 2022, 7:19 am

He was not sure what he was expecting from an intruder, one who might well have been there to try to drag him away to become a meat suit for some madman, but he was fairly certain that propping their ankles upon his table and curling up briefly, as if protectively, had not been it. He raised an eyebrow at her as she settled herself, his Djed making its way to his eyes, lighting them up emerald in colour and causing his senses to begin taking her in. He didn’t move physically, he was wary and instead would search out the meaning of this before doing anything. Her aura seemed…muted…though the colours still flashed and rippled. For someone dressed in such a colourful manner he expected vibrant shades, but they seemed almost…sickly? Pastel, perhaps. He wasn’t an artist.

“Well…at least it’s clear you are alone, grand-daughter of Arcadius,” he said, looking at her with flashing eyes briefly, before his eyes searched everywhere else for another aura, as he took in the scents of earth and vegetation underneath the scent of flowers and fruits, her music was just that – music – instead of the chaotic sounds some held, which puzzled him as nothing about her so far spoke of violence and confrontation, “you sound musical, though its faint…and smell like a gardener. Either you’re a very clever hunter, or this may be a better than usual day. Still, you’ll forgive me if I do this before stepping forwards”

He suited his words by letting his Auristics go back into passive state, for now, and instead marshalling his Djed to extrude the weavings of a Shield about an inch thick across the door, using his touch as the ‘task’ and the intention behind it that he be the only one who could pass through the rough, make-shift barrier. If she were a mage, she’d be able to break most likely, speed made it patchy and thin in places, but it was more about signalling intent than providing a true barrier. Once done he turned to look at her, letting his Auristics go for good and simply keeping his Djed bouncing around within, and the trickle of Djed to the Shield going to keep it active. He took her in once more at her words of greeting, stepping forwards a little, confident now there were no sneak blades hanging around.

“I kill when I have to, not because I like doing it. Another difference between me and that monster. So, if you don’t give me a reason to then I won’t. Besides, if you were one of his people, you’d be more valuable alive anyway…Tazrae,” he tested out the name, it was a strange one but then again he was far from normal, he pulled out a dagger from his belt, watching her carefully as the tip was slid towards the parchment and flipped it open to find…nothing but writing and he slipped it back again, “I knew someone once who bragged about using poison upon parchment. He got killed for his drunken bragging by a friend of the victim, but I remembered the lesson” he shrugged, there was no apology, simply practicality as he curiously picked up the letter and began to read through it.

He got one paragraph in before his brow furrowed and he looked at her with both a questioning, and suspicious, look. He became very aware that he needed a smoke, and a drink…and probably by the end of this meeting all of the drugs in Sunberth, or whatever equivalent he could find. Sighing he took out his pipe, thumbed in some tobacco and found a glowing ember with which to light it, careful not to turn his back to her throughout and throwing the ember back into the hearth once the smoke started to curl around his face. What the woman did not know was that he had discovered the smoke blanket secret f his pipe towards the end of the last season, so if this was an elaborate ploy he was falling for he’d have the chance to get away, at least.

“Sounds like something I’d say,” he muttered as he read the part about dice and then forged onwards with the letter without further comment, trying to keep his face carefully neutral, though it was difficult as he wavered between curious, baffled, amused and fearful, “for someone who claims to know me very well you’re very worried that I’m going to kill you. Though I suppose I should thank you for the forgiveness that I’ll not need…and the bananas” he said, after reading through it three times and turning it all around in his mind, his gaze flicking briefly to the yellow fruits upon the table.

“You realise how this sounds? I’m supposed to believe that I know you well enough that you sleep using me as a pillow…something very difficult to believe by the way as I’ve never been particularly lucky…and that I’ve somehow forgotten all of this? Nothing can be that powerful” he said, watching her carefully still, the letter sliding back onto the table as he considered his position between puffs of smoke.

“Some of what you say lines up, though, the dates Oralie and Bree were here. Bree, I remember, though it was strange she just appeared one day, I will grant you. My pipe…my family…the journeys and the magic…but I feel sure I’d remember if someone like you had been in my life. Though I suppose, at least, that I haven’t forgotten a lover’s embrace…that would be truly tragic” he said with a flicker of amusement, considering further before sighing to himself and pulling out all of his weapons, slowly so as not to spook her, and placing them down in the kitchen, far away from where they would be talking, as a reassurance.

“But very well, I am curious and you don’t seem to be about to attack me, so I’ll bite,” he hummed as he thought of what he might ask her that no one else might know, “what magics did we learn together? What did I find in a chest early in the last season? Where do I work? Tell me about myself, small things that only a close friend might know” he asked, walking to the bookshelf and pulling out his journal on a hunch.

He would flick through it as she spoke, his gaze returning to her regularly to check she was not about to jump out at him in an assault, wondering whether he had anything of his own that might corroborate what she was claiming – fantastical as the claims were. He found his seat and Twilight made his way to him, as was his habit of late, and he picked the snake up to let him curl up in his lap until he got bored and would move – he was only wanted for his body heat at any rate.

by **Tazrae** on March 8th, 2022, 10:48 pm

Tazrae continued to study him. It had felt like it had been a lifetime since she’d seen him. And even though he didn’t know her, she knew him. And he was healthy and doing fine. The bard in her listened to the timbre of his voice and the language his body spoke and that calmed her further. She flinched slightly when he titled her grand-daughter of Arcadius. But if that was the worst of his weapons tonight, things were going better than they definitely could have been.

She knew he was looking at her with magesight. What did he see? She couldn’t ask him what had changed and what he saw as different because he had no baseline for comparison. Taz tracked him with her gaze as he searched the room with his eyes as his mind processed things. Alric had a distinctive pattern to the way he did things. He was cautious, steady, and proceeding with more actual trust than she figured he’d show her had their positions been reversed. “I am a bard, twice-marked by Rhaus, and a witch once-marked by Caiyha. That is what you smell. I love flowers and grow them for their beauty and scents. I gather them in The Jungle Wilds and transplant them home rather than pick them so I can enjoy them for seasons to come.” She said carefully. “I named my Inn after a flower, the Protea. It’s a huge understated bloom that is almost alien in its beauty.” Tazrae said softly, shifting back on the couch to cross her legs under her and tuck a pillow into her lap. She was sitting on it sideways, in the back corner, where she could see him and the door clearly now. None of her motions were abrupt. None of her actions hurried.

She watched him equally unphased when he cast the shield and turned back to her. “I don’t think I could break that. You are far better at shielding than I am. You’ve been practicing.” She added, noting he looked almost like he knew what he was doing as he took almost no time to put up the barrier. It impressed her, really, though she didn’t like the idea of what it represented. “Don’t lock me in. I… don’t like that.” The Innkeeper said softly. “I like open windows and open doors, and the ocean breeze on my face.” She added, though she didn’t tell him to take the barrier down.

She nodded at his words. “I don’t think you are a killer. We wouldn’t be friends otherwise.” Tazrae didn’t like the way he said her name, as if he’d never said it before in his life. He tested it on his lips as if he wasn’t sure it was distasteful or not. She hated that almost instantly. He’d said it so many times before with affection and in playful teasing. He’d even said her name as if in prayer. But he’d never said it this way and it sent a shiver through her. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She said of the poison on parchment. She’d never heard of such a thing, truth be told, but then Alric had introduced her to many things she hadn’t heard of growing up in Riverfall utterly sheltered.

Taz watched him read the letter and because she knew him saw the emotions cross his features. She even noted when his hands twitched in the way they tended to do when he was thinking of pulling out his pipe and she almost breathed a sigh of relief when he did. As he was fussing with it, she pulled the pillow off her lap, tucked it behind her and leaned back closing her eyes. Gods it had been a long day. She half hoped when she made it back to Syka she’d find that all that had happened that morning was just a bad dream.

Turquoise eyes popped open when he commented, then drifted back closed when she put his comment in context to something she’d written in the letter. “I’m worried about such things because I know how much danger you are in and now much you are wanted to Arcadius. If what is happening here is in any way by his hand, its an attack to separate us because hes either worried that together we are to be reckoned with or he wants to chip away at the things you love by taking them one by one from you by his own private amusement. And if it has nothing at all to do with any of this, I’m sorry I’m dragging you into it.” Taz said softly.

“You are welcome for the bananas. There’s wine and some other groceries over there too. And yes, I know how it sounds. I’d be a madwoman to come up with this as a feasible plan to slide past your defenses and get close to you pretending to be someone you knew but forgot.” She said, inhaling deeply and letting the corners of her mouth curl up. She loved that pipe. The only thing better than having him stand across the room smoking it would have been him curled up here beside her where she could lean on him and indulge in a little self pity that everyone she knew in Syka had forgotten her.

Blinking, she glanced up at him when he said he’d bite. What? Then she realized what he meant as the volley of questions came her way. There were many of them… all at once, and she struggled for a moment to focus on just one. “The chest you said… gods I can’t remember… you found in the mud on a riverbank or something? It had a set of clothing in it… a red velvet jacket and a matching belt. The belt had a big gold buckle on it. The boots were nice and so were the gloves that were in it. There was a fun little red and white stick that extended… you warned me not to poke my eye out. You got that pipe you are smoking from it… which might be my favorite thing. But I really did like the glass orb… I think it was some sort of decoration… blue… that you hang up. It was beautiful and peaceful and seemed to melt away… conflict I suppose?” She said, glancing around to see if he had it hanging up somewhere. If it was, she’d point it out.

“Magics… uh… Alric, we learned a lot of magic but a lot has happened to me since then. I know we explored auristics, shielding, we got a lot of theory and lore from it… basic Arcanology of all kinds. We read about flux and did yoga to work through it. We tried hypnotism but you really stank at it. I did fairly well but I think its because I used music and that’s one of my gifts. You were really good at a lot of it. We read about Voril Mages and you’ve been looking for a weapon ever since. Did you ever find one? We decided if one could be found, here would most likely be the place.” She said, reaching up and pulling the leather tie from her head to scratch at the curls. The questions were unexpectedly painful because they were driving the fact home that he really honestly didn’t remember her.

“Where do you work? You didn’t talk about it a lot. I think you acted as a … well a bouncer at a house of ill repute. A place where men go to buy sex. I don’t know much about such things and you didn’t talk a lot about it. But I know you’ve done a lot of odd jobs and you’ve stolen and done other things. I insist you aren’t a bad person and you insist you are. It’s something of a long term argument with us and one of the things that makes me want to throw things at you. I know you don’t think you will survive my grandfather. You live in the now and hate planning for the future. You don’t think you have one.” She said, throwing out all the generalities that she could think of.

Then she got personal. A slow secret smile crossed her face as she answered his next question. “I know every curve and inch of your chest.” Then in a quite voice she began to describe it and his shoulders, with every mark and imperfection she could either see or feel in the darkness. She described how he smelled and his sleeping habits and how when he slowly woke he always tended to run his hand into her hair to cup her scalp. “You come in tired often. You forget to take off your clothing sometimes and I find them wrinkled. You hate bright colored clothing, though that’s mostly what I wear. If you had your choice you’d wear earth tones, muted greens and purples and things that have color but blend you into the shadows.” She added, watching him carefully.

“You have a temper, though you hide it well and cover it staunchly. Even when its burning bright its on lockdown by your iron will. You are a watcher of people and an observer of the world. I think you’d spend an entire day reading philosophy books and of ancient religions and never get restless.” She paused then, wondering how far to go. “You sometimes smell like liquor… like you go on binges, though I’ve never seen you drunk. I know what opium dens smell like, but I’ve never smelled drugs on you like that. I’ve never smelled sex or the perfume covering sex on you either. I don’t think you partake of the ladies you guard.” She said thoughtfully. “You should have been born a scholar, and not grown up in an orphanage in Sunberth. We know why that happened and I’m desperately trying to make sure you have a future that is of your own choice and not of my grandfather’s making.” Tazrae said once more.

“I won’t break my promises to you, Alric, not ever.” She said firmly, trying not to cry though she felt the pressure of tears building in her chest. Something was crushing her heart and she had no reason for it. Alric wasn’t dead. Alric wasn’t taken. He was free and alive and breathing … enough so that he was standing there threatening her.

“Let me give you this thing… this one small thing that might turn the tide. I don’t care if you won’t remember who it came from. This fight isn’t about me. This fight is about stopping him. Reimancy could be a game-changer.” She said firmly, making a fist and wanting to punch something but ultimately ending up gently sitting it down once, then twice, on the arm of the couch she leaned against.

Words: 1817

by **Alric Lysane** on March 9th, 2022, 8:56 am

The wall of scepticism had a chunk knocked out of it with each word, sentence and dollop of information Tazrae provided. Whilst some things were general, and he would have to take it in faith that she was being honest – like his reticence about his work life – there were other tumultuously damaging hammer blows that demolished entire sections. Some things he could dismiss as spied intelligence, others blame upon incompetent spying or interrogations…but the truly damning thing was that she wasn’t wrong. Not once did he gear an obvious lie, or an incorrect fact on what she did seem to know. Her knowledge might be incomplete, but it was sound.

As he listened, watching her carefully, he flicked through his journal and read what was there to seek out further truth. It seemed somewhat fitting that he would have to research himself, in Eyris’ honour, just to determine if he had a good friend. Someone, somewhere, he felt was having a dark joke at his expense. There were hints in the words upon its pages, references to a learning partner that he didn’t remember but with no name, tips and hints in phrases that were not his own, as if written when someone else had stated them. He didn’t find her name until the page after there were random scrawled lyrical pieces, some that he didn’t remember writing and were of a more caring nature. The page after put to rest the truth of her words, or at least those about them knowing each other – there she was, sketched out roughly and as if probingly, testing out his drawing skills on a whim because he had the opportunity of a beautiful model.

“Well, that is that I suppose…you can’t invent pages filled so long ago that the charcoal has dried and hardened into that sheen,” he said, keeping the journal open and placing it before her, “changed my life apparently…and I don’t even know you. Or remember you, I suppose, is more accurate” he puffed away at his pipe and looked at her anew, without the stain of suspicion for a while.

He had no frame of reference for her behaviours but her eyes had flared open so many times before strained gazes were hid behind her eyelids. Her movements had been deliberate and slow, stiff almost as she shifted positions. She had spoken of him in detail, almost lovingly had there not been this chasm of shattered bond between them. Tilting his head as he watched her, he considered what it must be like, to not have anyone remember who you were. And overnight, at that. He was used to a largely isolate life, but she had said she was an innkeeper and had many friends, so she was not like him at all. All those decimated friendships, human or not by her words, must be a terrible blow to her. As he thought it through, he noticed the small signs, the lack of true smile, even when trying to be amusing, the tightness around the eyes and set of her jaw, the balled fists flexing and curling back in.

“By the words of some of the lyrical bits I’ll assume some were written when thinking I won’t make it past Arcadius, which is true no matter how I try not to think it. Others I remember just writing while watching the fire and thinking of my mother…the others I don’t remember writing. So…” he let the word extend and then fall away.

“Let’s say everything you have told me is true, everything in this second letter that is tucked into my journal that I scanned through too, how can this be? Arcadius surely can’t do something this powerful, can he? If he could, why wouldn’t he just wipe me and then send someone to pick me up?,” he mused aloud, not entirely convinced this was the work of a mad mage, though what else it could be he had no idea, “I don’t know about all of that but I do know that I’m a realist, and I like to think I’m not an idiot. You aren’t going to attack me…you look instead like you’re trying hard not to let yourself break under the strain of…whatever this is. The me you know would probably wish he could make you feel better, and try, but I’m not sure how I can do so. You seem to be so worried that I’ll run you through that I’m not sure lending my shoulder would help at all” he sighed, puffing away once more upon his pipe, nibbling the mouthpiece thoughtfully.

“But you were right, about pretty much everything that mattered, even down to my weaknesses and habits…though I was not aware my chest was that memorable as to be put into such detail,” he couldn’t help a small curling of the lips at that before clearing his throat and looking away slightly, ”I like to drink and play games with fate. Anger is…a difficult beast for me. I do remember it easing of late, though not why, so I’m going to guess that you were a good influence upon me. Or that I wanted to try to impress you. I don’t remember. I don’t generally take drugs, though I have been drugged. Woke up in the damned fighting cage…that was fun. And as for the women…well let’s just say the ladies of Ruby’s tease me terribly for not partaking of their wiles…so you pretty much knocked out all of my personality traits, in general, which is something no one should be able to do as no one knows me enough. Spies couldn’t even get all of that, I’d think”

Pushing himself up he retrieved two glasses from a cupboard in the kitchen and poured a small amount of his own wine into them, returning to her and placing the glass down onto the table in case she wished something to help steady her nerves. For his own part he lounged back into his chair, let all of his Djed go, including the Shield link, and felt the feelings of power dissipate as he sipped his wine, savouring the flavour between puff of tobacco. This was going to be a strange, and likely long, day and he needed a drink. After all, why not indulge if you could have your life ripped away tomorrow?

“What does this ritual for Reimancy involve? I can’t agree to something that I don’t even know, I assume we talked about it and made plans I don’t remember?” he asked her, stepping aside from her please for now and seeking the information required to make a decision properly, passing her a filled glass should she wish to partake.

by **Tazrae** on March 10th, 2022, 5:39 am

“I didn’t know you knew how to draw.” She said softly, studying the sketch he let her catch a glimpse of. She suspected it was more for the notation below the sketch than for the art itself. Still, she could see herself in the drawing and was flattered he had wanted to sketch her. And in that moment, she smiled, and staunched the urge to reach out and see what else he wrote about by flipping pages. “You know me. Just because you don’t remember me doesn’t mean you don’t know me. Just listen to yourself, your reactions, even your responses. If your mind doesn’t know me… something will be recognized. We have higher minds. We must have… consciousness above our waking thinking selves… the place where instinct dwells.” She said, an air of quiet yet hopeful desperation about the statement.

She nodded at his words; at his questions about how could everything be true. “I don’t know, Alric. I honestly don’t. I do know that he’s some sort of human leach and Cedar told me… Cedar being the God Rhaus, was that he was something far older than my Grandfather. That he had something that didn’t belong to him… and it allowed him to take which should never belong to him. It seems impossible to fear someone you’ve never met. And you’ve only my word that he can take your body and wear it like a hermit crab can wear a shell. That original sea creature becomes long gone, and yet as the hermit crab grows he trades up, getting better and better houses until the biggest and best have the most elaborate. They have to be the strongest to carry such massive things. I don’t think Florentin Arcadius is much better.” Tazrae said softly, shaking her head.

“There’s more, Alric. I don’t think he knows where you are. But me… well… he’s found me. Remember when I said I was hurt and stayed away? One of his commanders was leading a force into Falyndar and they shot me out of the trees with a bola.” She said, then continued after a slight pause. She’d never talked much to anyone about this, but it answered his question. “I was riding Bree… Ixam don’t just run on the ground. They run in so many dimensions… up trees, leaping spaces, down limbs… so fluid. It’s not like riding at all. It’s more like flying. They didn’t realize she had a rider until I fell with her. They were just trying to capture another wild mount.” She said softly, wistfully, knowing first hand what it was like to run like that, tree to tree, and be part of the jungle… interwoven with it.

“They weren’t nice people. Nico, the commander, was a little unhinged. While I was held there, I met a man.. a God really masquerading as a scribe to keep tabs on the doings of the group. He told me his name was Cedar, but really he was Rhaus. He tried to comfort me and prepare me for what was to come. He said he could only observe, not interfere. That he’d done too much already. Rhaus said that they were just going to take you out of the picture. That you were just a liability.” Taz said softly, gently, and shifted again so her legs were stretched out. “But instead, they let us meet… to see what would come of it. Rhaus said that he wasn’t the only one surprised we became friends, allies, and then dove into our abilities deeply with the common goal of defeating Florentin Arcadius. They were just going to … kill you. They didn’t say it like that. They said they were going to take you out of the equation as a possible piece to be moved on the board. But when we got together, it somehow changed things. You found the will to fight back and were more than willing to sacrifice our time and energy on preparing. They thought you were a victim being in Sunberth just waiting for him to discover you. But instead, you showed them how strong you could be.” Taz said with a slight smile.

She paused then and took the wine. She drank deeply of it with a nod of thanks. Tazrae didn't hesitate about it as if the thought of poison from his hand didn't cross her mind at all.

“But Nico… Nico underestimated me too. That wasn’t before he nearly bled me dry carving up my flesh just because he liked to see women helpless stretched over racks. I’ve never felt such pain and never screamed so loudly. I told him everything he wanted to know. I couldn’t help it. And the sad thing was he asked me very few questions. He was more interested in the pain play than anything else. And when that stopped satisfying him, he poured liquor into my cuts. And when that even didn’t seem to make me scream enough, he used his urine and pissed all over the rest of me. By that time, I couldn’t even scream anymore. He would have raped me too, but I think there was too much liquor in him and though he tried his best to get himself hard enough to do it. And when he couldn’t he just redoubled his efforts beating me. I had so many parts of me broken… some still are.” Taz said softly. “I’m only telling you this because you won’t remember. Somehow… it makes it easier.” She spoke. “I failed you, Alric… in that moment. I failed everyone. I thought I’d be strong enough to face my grandfather, but instead I got racked up by one of his commanders and worked over until I broke.” She added, then glanced up at him.

“I think this is happening to me because of Nico. He can touch me somehow, I think, if this is even to do with him. Whereas he hasn’t found you yet. If he had already, he would have made his move before you get stronger. But they are too late. Tonight, you are getting stronger… in a way they never wanted to see happen.” She added, certain of that as well.

“Remember your cauldron dream? And the suit you made in it… the one you still wear when you go to Sunberth?” She asked, then swallowed. “I had one of those too… and I put one of Bree’s scales in the cauldron… along with other things… one of my Mussurana scales.” She said, gesturing at the snake she didn’t know he’d named. “Your pretty boy is one of mine. He’s a rear-fanged viper that constricts… you know snakes are either one or the other, almost never both. His kind is the exception. He knows he’s here to keep rodents down, and I’m the one that taught you about always having fresh clean water out for him and to supplement his hunting with raw meat when you can.” She added, then shook her head.

“I’m getting off track. I do that sometimes. I forget the message is more important than the story… it’s the bard in me.” She said, then circled back around. “I killed Nico for what he did… that very day. When I passed out on his rack, I had a cauldron dream as well and when I woke up, I had a scale clutched in my hand that was on a necklace. I tossed the necklace over my head and it fused with me.” She said, reaching up and unbuttoning a few buttons on her blouse to push it aside and reveal her sternum where there was a slight iridescent bulge from the first seed she’d swallowed. Directly below it as if sheltering it was a huge black scale that was as iridescent as Twilight’s form gleamed in the sun. “I can take a form almost identical to Bree now… and I did so, morphing – another magic we learned together – nails into claws and slicing my bindings. I changed then and took Nico’s head and got away.” She said, shaking herself. “But I left an awful lot of blood, tears, and probably other things he could have used to lay this… whatever this is on me.” Tazrae added.

“I also learned that along with wanting your body for his next host like a parasite, that we can oppose him and we can have our way. We just can’t stop because we have a lot of people counting on us ending him… and he himself is wary of us.” She said, slowly uncurling from the lounging position she had been in and rising. She moved past him without closing distance, and beckoned over to the couch. “I’m sure of that.” She said softly, knowing she was one of the ones’

“Will you sit on the couch?” She asked, then walked to the table where he laid all his weapons and looked them over before she selected a modest dagger that looked razor sharp. Taz plucked it up and walked it to the sink where she drew a pot of water with a quick fill from the roof cistern and laid the dagger in it. The pot went on the stove and she belt to light the tinder inside of it without a flint or steel and certainly without a match. Soon the dagger was heating up in the water.

“I told you about what happens during induction once… and I gave you a choice. But I know now that there was never really a choice for us, Alric.” She said, as she bent to fuss at the stove once more, getting the wood to somehow burn hotter than it ever should. Her body concealed most of her doings in that department from him as she bent over the little trap door where wood was tossed in. She waited for the fire to boil the water the dagger was in. Kami had told her to make it clean, so clean, that no one would doubt what its intent was. “I’m making sure this dagger is clean. And once I have, I’m going to make sure its as sharp as it’s ever been.” She said, peering in at the water. Air was her second element, otherwise she’d have just boiled the water, all on her own. Temperature control was fairly easy once one got the hang of it.

When the water was boiling at a nice roll, Taz dug the steaming hot dagger out with a pair of tongs and laid it on a clean kitchen towel. She picked it up in the towel by wrapping its hilt with the fluffy stuff, and pulled a round length of whetstone out of another drawer. Taz deftly used it to sharpen the dagger like a chef would a chef’s knife. When she was done, she completely wiped the dagger down, re-dipped it in the still boiling water, and plucked it out onto another clean towel.

“Then, when you are comfortable on the couch, I’m going to join you and give you this dagger. And you are going to make cuts in our palms and anywhere else the fancy strikes you and we are going to clasp hands, and lips, and any other pieces of ourselves we can and still remain decent. Then my Res is going to invade your body and teach your Djed how to replicate itself. And when it is done, you will have survived it. And there will be an element in you fighting for release and for life. And you will be a weapon Florentin Arcadius will never see coming. I plan to be ready for him… far more ready than I ever was with Nico. I plan to be at your side. You won’t die alone and you won’t be taken. Whatever this is… this forgetting thing… he just couldn’t waltz in and take you. But he could for me. I am of his hosts’ blood. And his men have bled me enough to use that blood however they can as wielders of dark forbidden arts.” Taz said softly.

She turned, making sure Alric had moved to the couch, then walked to him, the dagger held before her wrapped in a kitchen towel, hilt pointed towards him in an offering. “I’m done fooling around and just playing at learning these things, Alric. I’m going to train hard, harder than I’ve ever trained in my whole life, and I’m going to be ready for him when we finally get our face to face.” She added, her smile almost feral as she reached him and offered him the dagger. “And you’ll be twenty times the fool for refusing this of me.” Tazrae breathed, then instead of sitting down beside him, she carefully sat herself down on him. One knee slipped to the right of his lap and the other to the left. Then she firmly planted her rump in his lap, facing him, tall enough to look him in the eye where he sat. She didn’t care that her back was to the fire. Fire was her element. Her focus was before her, where she opened her palms to him, holding them out for easy access.

“I will keep my promise tonight. And if you ever regain full knowledge of who I am, I want to be able to hold my head up high that this happened despite all they’ve done or are currently doing to keep us from being stronger together. Have faith. Trust in me. Trust in your instincts.” She said, even now feeling her Res rising. She’d always felt an energy about them that wove together sometimes as they studied or they worked. She could feel it within her, spilling over and flooding out from her djed well. It was rising strong, hard, and it didn’t want to be contained. It wanted at Alric and it wanted at him now.

“Make the cuts, Alric. There won’t be a pretty ritual with words recited and old ways upheld. There will be only this… and it will be enough.” She said, leaning closer, her eyes meeting his.

Words: 2318

by **Alric Lysane** on March 10th, 2022, 3:17 pm

“I don’t, not really…well I didn’t anyway. I don’t remember when I started doing it regularly, so perhaps this was my first attempt. But things that mattered, that I wanted to remember, I started to draw. There’s one of Eyris in there, Twilight and Bree too though the last was from memory. Few others dotted around, Flux pathways and notes alongside…that sort of thing” he said with a slight clearing of the throat, showing his efforts seemed somewhat embarrassing considering their rough and untalented nature, but in this case it served its purpose of providing truth to her case.

“I’m not sure anyone knows how memory works. The Dreamwalker and the tea were the closest thing to figuring it out that I ever got. I was getting it back, bit by bit, and it felt…nice…if bittersweet. Now, it seems, I’ve lost a whole other set just as I thought things were getting better. Perhaps, like with my past, they are still there somewhere, buried deep. But if that is the case then…” he sighed, finishing his pipe and tapping it empty the ashes falling to the floor to be swept up later, leaving the sentence unfinished – she’d be able to discern that the ending of it was about possibly never being able to fully recover it given her stated involvement in his other memory loss reclamation efforts.

The moments only got darker as she pressed on, telling her story as if trying to unburden herself of a difficult weight. He didn’t know when he had lost memory of her, and so when others had, but it sounded as if she hadn’t told this story to anyone – at least not all of it. There was fresh pain in her eyes, alongside fear and anger in tumultuous amounts, each thing rising and falling without control. He couldn’t fault her for that, though wondered why she had not tried to use the Yoga and Tai Chi he assumed they had learned together to try to help her with controlling the raw feelings within. Perhaps she hadn’t had the time, or the energy, but he remained silent and non-suggestive until she was finished, abruptly getting up and walking away as if staying there and looking at him after her telling was something she wished not to do.

“You realise that you are wrong, right?” he said, leaving it a few moments before switching to the couch, noting how she didn’t use the opportunity of his back being to her to strike, and settling in to watch as she worked at whatever it was she was dong, “you can’t blame yourself for not being able to stand up to torture. What you went through sickens me, in so many ways…” he trailed off, lapsing into thoughtful silence for a few moments, “but it wasn’t your fault. You can’t prepare for such things and I give you no forgiveness, because there is nothing to forgive. I’m not sure how I would respond either. I’ve seen the mob tear people apart by pieces, they all screamed and begged and confessed…even if I knew they were innocent and doing it to get the pain to stop. There is no shame in being human”

He said nothing more, there was nothing more he could say. She would either survive her ordeals and transcend them, or shatter eventually and never be the same. He had no way of forcing it one way or the other, it was her choice, and in the grand scheme of things he always preferred to let people exercise their own freedom of choice, it was often the only thing they had. Sunberth born he may not have been, but he agreed with that, she would have to find her own way. He’d be there, if he could, but given the circumstances he wasn’t sure how much he could even help her. He felt for her, in those moments, as if he could reach out and touch her isolation and the desperation that would inevitably bring.

He didn’t add his burdens to her own, not only because it felt strange to share his deepest feelings with a stranger – at least one on the surface. But because he didn’t really want to admit some things to himself, it was easier to deal with them that way. He knew from the way she was talking that Tazrae saw a light at the end of this ugly, dirty tunnel…but he didn’t, not for him. Everything that happened, every setback and suffering, merely confirmed for him what he knew deep down – whatever the Gods initial plans for him, he didn’t think he would survive the ending of their games. When they cleared their chessboards, packing away the fallen pieces, he’d not be left for the board reset.

So it was with a softer gaze now that he watched her work and explain her actions, not paying attention to the dagger or the pot, but instead taking in the curves of her form and the way her dress rippled and clung in just the right places. He had no memory of her, but he could see why he had clearly initially been inspired to speak to her in her story of their meeting. He didn’t know whether she always busied herself as she was, but he enjoyed the moments, not because he was lazy but because no woman had ever given him such things to enjoy. The current activity may well be about danger than about cooking, but he felt a flicker of something deep within, the idea of watching her cook warming him.

“The snake’s name is Twilight, and he has gone off somewhere, terribly offended that I dared to move him,” he said after a while, picking up on the fact that she cared for the animal and its welfare, “and it’s good to know even the Gods wanted me dead. I’m starting to wonder if anyone wants me alive” he sighed, frowning in thought before his gaze returned to hers as she approached. She handed him the dagger and very easily placed herself upon him, stirring thing both desirable and uncomfortable given their circumstances. He watched her for a few moments, wondering if this were all an elaborate ploy but, ultimately, deciding she was being earnest. She had given him the weapon, he could rightly just strike her down now…but she trusted that he wouldn’t.

It seemed only fair to give her the benefit of the doubt, though the ludicrous nature of what she was asking him to do, after telling him her story, and knowing he didn’t know her properly and that it had to be done in ‘perfect trust’? He couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up, somewhat mad and feral in tone to match her own look, as amusement rippled through him to drown out the despair, if only briefly. He hefted the dagger in his hand and tapped the tip against her palms thoughtfully, meeting her gaze firmly.

“Let me get this straight…the Gods wanted me dead, Arcadius wants me for himself, you want me to cut myself and bleed, when you’ve just told me you can turn into an Ixam and did so before taking a bad thug’s head…getting a taste for blood no doubt…and this is all….normal?” he said, a manic smile creeping across his lips, “of course, what could be more normal? Why should I ever expect that my life could become happy, boring and average? What’s the worst that could happen?” he barked a laugh before settling back for a moment or two, wondering where it was best to make the slices beyond the palms, if anywhere.

“Remain decent? But it’s not ever day I get a beautiful woman like this. You know if had said you were here to sit in my lap at the beginning thing might have gone smoother,” he snorted wryly, “I assume that the more cuts, the easier this will be, if I remember what I read in the book? Well…in for a droplet, in for the flood I suppose. There are worse positions to risk something in”

He started with himself, setting the dagger aside and pulling off his shirt before he got another piece of clothing covered in his own blood – he was running out as it was, given the last season. That done, it crumpled upon the floor, he sliced one cut upon the front of each shoulder with a wince and a hiss. He cut the underside of both of his forearms twice also, all slices just deep enough to cause blood to begin oozing out but not enough to sever anything critical, all upon the fleshy parts that he knew were safe enough to slice. He repeated the same upon her body also, before taking a deep breath and slicing both of their palms, setting the dagger aside and taking another deep breath.

“There, jointly marked, something else you can point out if I forget you again. Seems…apt. Do what you came here to do then, and we’ll see where the dice will fall for us” was all he said, clasping their hands together, waiting for her to begin, knowing that magic – especially initiations – took as much control and concentration as was possible.

by **Tazrae** on March 11th, 2022, 6:24 am

The woman listened as he spoke of his art and she nodded in understanding. More and more things were laid out in their lives that didn’t have a date or a reason but instead just seemed to come to pass without fuss and without true necessity. They just happened because they brought pleasure and in many ways relief. Sometimes things were held inside and getting them on paper made them more tangible. Tazrae supposed that’s why people made art and had since the beginning of time. Even in Falyndar, there were carvings and paintings on rocks that looked older than time itself. Alric was just following in the footsteps of countless ancestors before him. And if she were honest, the art had a real likeness to her and the prose was beautiful from what she could see of the snatches of it. A soft smile curved her lips, for Alric’s journal was a lot like him… fragmented and scattered about, with bits here and there, all forming a whole but hard to follow in a successive line.

Alric tapping his ashes on the floor annoyed her slightly, but that was a talk for another time. The fussy Innkeeper side of her wanted to go sweep them immediately and chastise him for not taking the two steps to the fireplace to empty them into someplace the ashes would feel right at home. Taz wasn’t a nagger, but she was practical. Homes were kept nice and clean for a reason. He was a Sunberther, and evidently barely housebroken at best. She could clean later… the apartment would need it anyhow. Before the night was out, she knew there would be more than ashes on the floor. There would definitely be at the very least blood.

Taz prepared for what she knew was coming as Alric called her out on self-blame. Another smile curved her lips. Ah. The pot was calling the kettle black again, wasn’t it? The man had practically invented blame, and here he was telling her how she shouldn’t think this way or that. “I can and will prepare for such things now that I understand what kind of power games his people like to really play. They are games that make no sense other than the indulgence of obsession. He won’t send people like that to my chosen home again and have me suffer them to live. I lay curled on that floor feeling helpless while a God told me how to pick myself up. He shouldn’t have had to. And he won’t have to ever again. It doesn’t get lower than that nor more shameful. I will do a whole lot better next time. And I will be a whole lot stronger.” She spoke firmly, meaning it.

“I am sure there is no shame in being human. And I might agree with you if I were. But I don’t even have that excuse anymore.” She added, not really knowing what she had become. Tazrae knew one thing and knew it well. She embraced the other about her now. It was more a part of her than that scared lost motherless human girl that had fled Riverfall ever would be. Alric might give her quarter and say he gave her no forgiveness. That was his choice. But she didn’t have to forgive herself. All she had to do was not be weak enough to be caught ever again.

“I’m glad you finally gave him a name. It’s a good name.” She added, closing her eyes a moment and letting her senses shift through the apartment. She could feel the Mussurana making itself at home in a pile of Alric’s clothing in the bedroom. Its presence was strong, threatless, and she had judged him content when it had been curled in Alric’s heat briefly earlier. It had grown in the sixty days… in girth and length, though not so noticeable that someone would have said it was vastly bigger. Taz figured it gathered muscle just moving about, exploring, climbing, and getting to know the human occupant.

She thought, truth be told, that Alric would fight her a bit more. And it was somewhat strange that he offered no argument when she handed him the dagger nor when she settled in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. She seated herself that way so she could control the situation more than she could just stand beside him. And she certainly didn’t want him kneeling before her like a man asking something of her and awaiting her judgment. Taz had long since cast that judgment and found him far less lacking than he routinely found himself. His aloofness day today was understandable, but he caved to her needs enough that she forgave him for the fact he saw death in everything. He planned not to be around. It was as if he didn’t want a future or didn’t think he deserved one. And one of his biggest flaws – the one she saw clearly as it pertained to her – was that he was far more in love with the idea of the tragedy of his life than he was ever going to be capable of finding love with someone outside of that identity.

But Tazrae accepted that. She could love him and understand that she could never have him. And in a way, it made the bindings already on her heart easier, for the jungle did truly call her and would forever own her in a way that was deep and flowed both ways. Falyndar herself had laid ownership on Tazrae and called a girl who thought she had no more family in the world kin. Taz gave herself enough worth to deserve that sort of love. And she strove to be worthy of it. Her path was about life and freedom.

Alric was of the city, and reality told her he had no interest in giving that up. Nor would she ask him to. Shared apartments in places that bridged worlds aside. This act… felt final somehow. It felt like a turning point. Why? Taz reflected on it as she watched Alric first score his flesh then hers.

In this… in doing this… Tazrae was striking a blow against her entire bloodline. She was fighting back against the man that controlled the man who put her in the rack. She was handing a weapon to Alric to fight back against Arcadius, one the monster within her Grandfather wouldn’t see coming. He would train it hard. He would undoubtedly supersede her in power and ability in such a short time as he had done in all their other magics. Taz didn’t mind. There was no glory in being the best, not on Alric’s pathway.

Her eyes flashed with slight mirth, lightening the storm in her heart for a moment when he laughed. He was basically summarizing the scenario and laying it out more for his own benefit than for hers. The man was recapping the very act before they’d even survived completing it. His sense of humor was a balm to his nerves and she knew this was how he navigated things that scared the shyte out of him.

Tazrae licked her lips, allowing the wildness inside her to rise to the surface now, as he reminded her of what she’d done to Nico and how good that had felt. “What’s the worse indeed?” She said with a shrug. “You might get the death you see coming at every corner. And any dreams you have dared to dream for the future will fade to the mists and rot as your corpse rots. No, you have dreamed no dreams, have you Alric? At least, maybe, at last, your body will be useless to Grandfather.” Tazrae said in a voice that was almost sultry and definitely internalized. She couldn’t hide how she hated his fated outlook.

He set the dagger aside and removed his shirt. Taz’s eyes fell to his chest and she made a sound in the back of her throat that was almost pleasure. She mirrored the gesture, peeling off the colorful isuas blouse she wore, baring her torso to him as well. “I’ll keep that in mind if there ever is another opportunity … to re-introduce myself.” The Innkeeper said, not exactly smiling. To her, the situation wasn’t funny. It wasn’t worthy of the mirth.

She understood where Alric was coming from. He buried a lot beneath sarcasm and mirth. Taz didn’t know where this anger in her was coming from, the anger that was rising equally along with the love and affection she had for this man. Inside her mouth. she licked her teeth, almost disappointed to feel the human four or five cusps on her molars.

Tazrae didn’t care about blood on her blouse. That was one of the reasons she kept her wardrobe colorful. Stains were easily hidden and bright colors were cheerful. But what she did care about was that it would feel delicious skin on skin. Her Ixam scale shimmered on her sternum where it cupped the small slight lump that housed the seed of the First Tree. Her breasts were bare this time, no crochet bikini top holding them to her. She didn’t care. Nudity was a concern long lost in her past, and Tazrae was certain she didn’t have as prominent or flashy of a chest as the women whom Alric guarded. Such folk took pride in such things. She did not. It was a body, changeable and mutable, one that could be shaped by the Gods or personal magic, depending upon whim.

Tazrae winced at his first cut, but having recently been deeply sliced up for another more nefarious reason all over her body, Alric’s attentions with the dagger were not enough to cause even an exhalation of irritation after the first one. She just sat there, tucked on his lap, and folded inward as her awareness followed the rise of her djed and its transformation into Res within her. The young Innkeeper didn’t have to tell her power what they were doing. It knew. It responded. It roared.

Slowly, when the cutting was done, Tazrae opened her eyes and met Alric’s gaze.

He said something, his expression odd, though Taz didn’t hear what it was. More quips maybe? Sarcasm? An affirmation to not live through the night most likely. His voice was a muffled distant sound in her ears. The power inside her was screaming, rolling one way and then the other like a flash flood boiling down a canyon. She felt his fingers link to hers, the cuts all but touching. If Alric was thinking control and concentration, there was none of that in Tazrae. She threw open her mental arms and welcomed the deluge that was rising. Her eyes glowed then, brightly, with a sunset swirl of color that betrayed her tell-tale signature Res.

Every mage was different.

And for Tazrae, the shimmering substance that burst from her palms and punctured Alric’s own was the color of the most vivid sunset in Syka. Her form didn’t wait for skin to skin like she’d anticipated. Tendrils of her surging Res burst out of her like an earthen dam suddenly opening a floodgate and flailing like angry serpents looking for somewhere to strike. The serpents of coiled power kissed the air with their sunset hues, seeking, then turned and dove into the cuts mirrored on Alric’s skin. She never got to lean forward and feel her chest against his, blood mingling as she’d imagined. The djed inside her was converting to Res in tidal waves and bridging the gap between their two bodies of its own will.

The power flooded him, Res invading every space in his physical form, washing across his djed – teaching it, remolding it, almost invasive – as Taz didn’t even remotely attempt to regulate the flow. Her expression was almost savage as she leaned forward, finally, and nipped his jawline sharply before taking his lower lip in her teeth. She tugged it teasingly, pulling it outward from his face until it slid through her loosely clenched teeth and slipped back into place almost violently.

Her hands interwoven with his clenched and relaxed as she dipped her head again, this time kissing him full on. It wasn’t a lover’s kiss, light and playful. It was something else, something fierce, as she ground her mouth into his. There was no tongue play, no laughter, no pausing to gaze into each other’s eyes. She took a taste of him full on then went back for more, Res rising in her throat and spilling over into his mouth. It mercilessly drove down his throat, completely shutting down his ability to speak. It poured down into his lungs as he took a breath, and filled his stomach when he tried to exhale it. The power had a life of its own and it sank into him like it was wet rain on parched dusty land.

All her cuts were united with his cuts now, woven tendrils of her Res shimmering and alive with the colors of sunset. The Res twisted and twirled, spanning the distance between them easily, full of vital promise and vigor. The ropes of suspended Res washed their skin in brilliant color, tinting it with an arcane light show as if the sun actually were going down around them. The cuts in his chest flooded Res downward, filling his lower back and pelvis with the stuff. Most mages, even at her level, didn’t have nearly the Res to fill his body and still work its magic. That’s why people died. But her source was wide and deep, full up and fully tasked with a purpose her heart was fully in support of. Make this man beneath her a true weapon. Make this man untouchable.

Taz broke off her kiss, growled, and dipped her head so she nuzzled the hollow of his throat, licking his salty skin. “Take it in.” She hissed, inhuman. “Make it your own.” She urged, then finally, with her teeth grazing his jugular and lifting higher to lick the hollow beneath his ear. She buried her face in the side of his head, deep in his hair, shutting off the djed from her mouth as the rest of her invasion completed its work, going so far as to flood his feet and out into his toes. His legs were full up of power, her power, weighted down to the point his skin felt too small.

It took time… so much time… for the foreign Res in him to find and begin the change. It would have an elemental sensation… a burning for fire, a wash for the water. Air would feel tumultuous and earth would be heavy with the weight of its might. Taz’s sunset tendrils broke off one by one, retreating back into her as if she were a monstrous thing. When the last one broke from him and retreated back into her, the colors of golden oranges, pinks, and purples cast with azure faded from their skin. She was breathing heavily and staring at him with savage eyes, watching something she could see in the back of his irises.

Taz settled back into his lap, forcing herself to relax and to let go of the power. She shook her fingers free of his grip and simply watched. Tazrae didn’t speak. She couldn’t… not yet. The speech wasn’t something she was capable as the feral strength in her eyes slowly receded. She fought for one deep breath, then another, and finally another. And when she had some semblance of control again, she slipped off him and gathered her shirt. She trailed a finger through the blood that had pooled on his chest and brought it to her lips, curious, licking the thick red liquid coating off the end of her finger. She slipped the colorful shirt back on over her torso, not minding the blood soaking into it. Battle scars were nothing to be ashamed of.

Then she claimed his chair for her own and sat back to wait, one leg draped over its arm as she sprawled sideways in it, still breathing hard.

Words: 2681

by **Alric Lysane** on March 11th, 2022, 5:01 pm

As tendrils of liquid sunset rippled out of Taz, elongating and moving as if seeking him out, there was a brief flicker of hesitation in his decision. He hadn’t been sure what to expect but the myriad Res serpents weren’t what he had had in mind. Their fingers were clutched together, and he could feel her muscles begin to tense as the Res rose and seemed to have a mind of its own. There were a few moments, frozen in time as she clearly marshalled her powers for what was to come, where he had the chance to admire her in all her glory. He hadn’t expected her to copy him in removing clothing, but he found himself wishing he could reach out and explore her form with lips and fingers, entranced and his lust rising for a few moments.

Then, as if the Res could feel his hunger for her, taking it as a signal, it surged towards him, covering him as completely as he thought it was able to. He could feel it, almost forcing itself into the wounds he had made, painful and stinging but not ripping them open further somehow. He looked at them, the glistening lines between her wounds and his, the overflow of their palms covering their hands with the shine of her Res as if it was pouring out of her too quickly to force its way into him without the excess pooling, waiting for its turn patiently, but hungrily. She seemed hungry also, dipping in to nip and bite at him, tugging at his lips and making him wish this wasn’t a magical initiation and simply a tumble in the sheets.

It hadn’t been what he had been expecting but it was something he embraced, pulling her forwards and towards him so that he could take in her scent before he lost the chance to, his own teeth grazing her neck and tasting her. She was far from the calm, collected woman who he had walked in on, instead now lost to some wild abandon that made the pain of the Res that then flooded into his nose and eyes somehow worth it, even as he lost the ability to see and smell her as all of his senses seemed to fill with an iridescent light. He could feel it…changing him…somehow tearing through his Djed, absorbing it and then twisting it into something else. His ‘well’ was still there, though there was no way he’d ever be able to even get close to it in that moment, but it’s colour was somehow beginning to intensify, the silvery waters glowing with a new internal light.

It was as that realisation hit him that she came in for more, this time forcing her mouth into his and if he could have widened his eyes he would have done so, his muscles now tensing and staying painfully tensed as his throat flooded, lungs filled and stomach seemed to swell and distend before the rest of him began to be steeped with the overflow. Trying to breathe was almost impossible and quite excruciating as he half-coughed and half-choked what was in his lungs out and into the rest of him. It refused to be ejected, seeking ever deeper parts of him to penetrate and transform. He could feel his sides being flooded, his very bones beginning to feel heavy with the weight of the additional magical liquid.

He heard her words, almost as an echo as if underwater, felt her teeth graze his neck, eventually the letting go of his hands, and then there was the distinct absence of her, retreating away and leaving him with the Res…and the process. He was conscious, though he felt as if he shouldn’t be…and wished that he wasn’t. Everything hurt and sang at the same time, swelled as if he were twice the size but heavy as it was all in the same volume and denser than he could ever remember feeling before, despite how many might be surprised at that fact. He didn’t realise it, lost as he was deep within himself, but as she watched she’d see him slip sideways on the couch until he was upon his back.

Breathing grew ever more difficult, even as he took her advice and let go completely of any form of his own control, the speed of the res filling him increasing until he could feel nowhere that was not saturated, throbbing with its power. His lungs were shallow in their use, his heartbeat grew louder and slower, frightening so as he felt his body grow heavier. Was this what death was like? Had she killed him? Panic rose but he couldn’t open his eyes, his eyelids wouldn’t respond and felt anchored so definitively closed that he couldn’t summon the strength. He couldn’t move anything, even marshalling all of his willpower, even a fingertip. His chest grew more difficult to shift, breathing eventually either stopping or growing so shallow as to be almost imperceptible. He screamed internally, his mind raging at the weight that his body could not shift, couldn’t process.

Then, after a period of time he could not track, something cracked, and he could feel an icy, silvery glow begin to ripple through him. His bones felt like they were first, turning hard and jagged in feeling, rough as if he were running his fingers across a rocky outcrop. Then it was his muscles, heaviness still evident but as the silvery ripple flooded them, they seemed like other stones, gems even perhaps, their lustre shifting slightly as he finally managed to twitch a little movement. The organs were last, starting within and stony frames clamping down over his lungs and heart before bursting through the rest of them, eventually glinting like black obsidian in his pupils. It felt that way, though he knew there was no way he’d actually transform like that…he hoped.

He felt as if he sunk like that for a while, breathing slowing getting deeper as the Res seemed to become his own and was absorbed into him, the weight pressing him down into the blackness easing, portion by portion…until something else seemed to click and his eyes flew open, his lungs filled with a gasp and he jerked up and around, to fall upon the floor face first, fingertips clawing at the floor as he coughed and wheezed himself back into something more alive than an overgrown tombstone. There was a lot of spluttering and coughing as his eyes watered and he wiped them away, eventually finding the strength to push himself up, rolling back onto the sofa with a groan, back upon his back but this time able to see and breathe.

“Gods that started out so nicely,” he coughed, his reminiscence cut off with violent tensing of muscles before he could massage them loose, feeling that his body still felt somewhat heavy and stiff, “damn I felt..feel…like I’ve put on a hundred pounds! I haven’t suddenly gotten fat have I? It’d be a shame after all the training I did” he sighed, getting another series of coughs out after that as his lungs got used to breathing properly once more.

“Did it work? Or do we have to do it again? If so can we just do the first bit, because I’m not sure I’ll survive another full round” he pinched the bridge of his nose and then rubbed his temples and jaw, feeling how his jaw must have been clenched hard enough to form an ache that he sought to ease.

Closed [T&T] Do You Know My Name?