Always darkest before the dawn [Stitch, Jilitse]

[Jilitse]

To be in the presence of such purity. The Goddess was so kind. Perhaps many humans have been mistaken about the deities, but then again out of the many in the Pantheon, how many could compare to Priskil? It was very hard to wrap her mind around the celestial being before her - not even a half-millenia old nuit could attempt to understand the divine. It was twice as hard to retain the wisdom that the Goddess had imparted, for all her meaningless existence, Jilitse had little ability to understand. But perhaps, as the sweet Goddess had said, she had the spark of light within her.

The things that brought her to this point, all of it seemed to be part of a crucial learning process for Jilitse. That the world she moved in was no longer Sahova, and was not, in anyway, Alahea. Change was inevitable in this instance.

Some creatures stumble upon greater understanding of the world they live in through divine intervention. Lost souls moving about, never without purpose or guidance. Drainira must have been wrong this time, for Jilitse's resolve to rescue Mashaen in her own way was not delusion. But what was the goddess trying to tell her? That love for a man - dead as he might be - should not be her purpose for living?

As her ichor dripped towards her new host, Jilitse's thoughts were carried over. What was the overwhelming feeling enveloping her at this moment?

Perhaps her first challenge was to rethink the purpose of her actions. The next would be to find life's meaning - beyond who she had been and who she was right now.

As the entirety of her being jumped onto another body, Jilitse counted the opportunities this next life had to offer. Priskil had saved her, and for that - it could never be emphasized any greater - the Nuit was grateful. Right now her belief and faith on the Goddess was thin as gossamer, but it was spinning around her soul, tighter and tighter.

The path to redemption. Her own release from this world. PRISKIL.

And without wasting breath, Jilitse was faced with the loose ends of this adventure. There would not be a proper burial for Clarissa's mother. Her relationship with Stitch had been severed. The children, each a casualty in their own way. The bubbling feeling surged inside the Nuit - maybe this was what having companions was like. The Nuit woman who loved in solitude was now relearning what it was like to be in a society. In a circle of camaraderie. There would be time for apologies, to Stitch, Clarissa, everybody dragged into this chapter of misadventure.

Jilitse had to wait for the side effects of transferring into a new body to disappear - she could not answer Priskil without the clarity of her mind. And when it was finally her turn to speak, "I sincerely extend my gratitude to you dear Goddess. I could not have hoped for a better resolution to the problem." In between those lines, the Nuit expressed appreciation that nobody was hurt - the damage kept within reasonable boundaries. Sometimes you just couldn't save everybody. "I have lost a very important thing today. The red book was entrusted to me by my master, the man I love. It was no doubt a special book, whose secrets I was meaning to uncover." She paused, adjusted her neck, light eyes sharply focused on the little clay man. "I will certainly not forget, for this will cause delay." The Nuit croaked her blame against the Pycon, feeling a lump in her throat as she did so. Priskil was beaming at her, perhaps evoking the kindness that lay deep beneath the dead body. "Thank you for the coordinates, Pycon. Though it is useless to me at this time, it will be of great help when the time comes." If the time comes. "The deed, at the very least all of your misgivings today, is forgiven." Mostly, she was thinking about getting poked by a fork - the thought of surviving such ferocious attacks nearly made her smile, but memories of having a sword thrust into her body by a child who did not, and never did, intend to made her grimace. It would be in her best interests not to carry hate or anger or suspicion in her mind. She would pay that much respect to Priskil. And so, a few moments later, the Pycon was graced with the faint smile of Jilitse. But it was not that of simple gratitude, but rather an amused interest. "I wonder if Drainira would ever think of you kindly the next time you meet. You are now an aberration to her perfect world." She squinted at the clay man, earlier her enemy, now a neutral acquaintance. "No doubt that it would be in her plans to destroy you." It wasn't a threat, just mere fact. She eyed the Pycon, hoping to squeeze something out of him. A hint to what Drainira was like after Sahova, in this place she so called Opportunity. And when there was nothing more to say, she heaved her shoulders and tried to sort out the variety of emotions slowly simmering in her cold numb heart.

If only she could cry and mourn for all that was lost today. Jilitse reached out for Priskil's hand. The Goddess of last resort. To Jilitse, she was now a well of inspiration and strength. She could certainly do with a little more pep talk, but now that the chance was here, there was serious business that Jilitse needed to attend to. Ironically, she was hoping Priskil already knew. No other god nor goddess in the entire deity line-up would understand better the fulfillment of Jilitse's promise to the great Archwizard Zarik Mashaen.

OOCA little change won't hurt

[Stitch]

Tired. He was so tired. They had asked him so many questions, and he hadn't known how to answer some of them. How was he supposed to explain that men magically appeared in the Orphanage? How was he to explain that they had needed some book, from some Nuit who didn't even exist anymore? That, and how was he supposed to explain the appearance of a Goddess? There were too many loose ends, and too much of it was unable to be explained clearly. Their suspicion and disbelief was painfully obvious, especially to his magical eyes. They told him it would be best to take the children away for a few days, just to get them out of the Home. Out of the place where all the horrors had occured. It would only be one or two days, they promised. Then he would have them back. He wanted to protest, but knew that he didn't have any room to do such a thing. He just nodded, just agreed, and just prayed to Priskil that it would all be alright. Several hours later, their suspicions seemed to have died. It seemed like they believed him, at least for now. It wasn't like they could pin anything on him, really. Even if hardly any of it made sense, they couldn't say much about the four armed men laying dead in the middle of his Orphanage. Taking the children with them, they left, forcing him to keep quiet about the incident. As he had stood by the door, waving goodbye to his children, watching the Knights leave, he had felt something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. All in one night, in a mere span of an hour or two, Syliras had changed. As people walked by, they walked by with accusing and judgemental eyes. Where they had once simply marveled at his blindess, now they judged him for it. Scolded him for it. How can you take care of children, with your blind eyes? With your magic? Their accusing questions were much too loud, and their suspicious Auras only amplified the noise. He knew how bad this looked, for him. When he had sworn himself to secrecy, he had left himself as the only one responsible for this incident. Priskil was gone, Jilitse was gone, and he had been "told" that the four men never existed in the first place. Now, after everyone was gone, after he had locked himself away deep within his Home... He walked into the back playroom, head swirling with all kinds of thoughts, his heart heavy. With the children gone, and the smell of burned wood in the air... The place seemed foreign. Just as Syliras seemed cold and foreign. The Auras had changed, and would remained changed for a very long time. He felt empty, alone, and so very helpless. Even though he was supposed to be someone who was strong, even if he had so much skill with his fists, and so much power with his eyes... Once again, with this feeling swirling around inside of him, he felt his eyes welling up with tears. It was always tears. He always cried. He had always cried too much as a boy, and now, even after he had survived all that... He was crying again. He couldn't help it. He felt so alone. Gromhir and Kamalia were gone, Malia was gone, everyone had left and gone about their own adventures. He had been left with the children once again, and now, even they had left. Suddenly, the words on the ground caught his eyes. The brightly glowing letters on the ground called out to him, and he knelt down, running his fingers across them. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he read them, one more emotion adding to the swirl within his stomach. He wasn't so sure if this comforted him, or just made him feel even lonelier. Taldera? If he didn't have a friend, he was supposed to head to Taldera? He had never been outside of Syliras in his life. How was he supposed to travel to Taldera? He couldn't deny one thing, though. With the way his stomach was feeling, with all that was happening, and all that would happen... He had a feeling his time in Syliras was coming to an abrupt and sudden end. He didn't know why, but he could feel it, deep within his stomach. In the span of a few hours, everything had started to unravel. The next few days would be spent grabbing at the unwinding strings that held his life together, and hopefully, Priskil willing... He would be able to keep everything together. Right now, everything was bursting at the seams.

[Tarot]

The Pycon bore everything Jilitse said to him with his head bowed, as if awakening from a long dream. He had been brainwashed and indoctrinated by Drainira, of which she could be certain. Pycons were extremely receptive to stimuli. They learned things faster because they lived shorter lives. They listened twice as intently, even when there was nothing good to be heard. "I… yes, she will kill me for sure. I will hide. Somewhere. I am never going to use this mark again. I swear." Priskil regarded Jilitse with something akin to curiosity, holding her hand gently but firmly. It felt warm and reassuring. Priskil had not seen many of her kind in the time after the Valterrian, and their detached personality intrigued her. As for the Pycon, he looked up at Jilitse, and he seemed to be reshaping himself subtly, his sculpted hair growing a little longer. The experience was changing him in real time. "You must become far stronger if you are going to fight her. You struggled against me and I am nothing. But she… she sounds like she knows everything, is capable of everything. The things people learn in a lifetime, she acquires in a bell or two. She has this aura of greatness made flesh and makes you feel that you, too, could have a little of her greatness." He shook his head. "I should have known better." "Keep searching," Priskil said, "within and without. Come up with your own answers. No-one has the right to tell another what they should believe in. If you don't sweat your answers then those answers are not worth having. Be on your way now." Priskil waved her hand and the Pycon faded out in a shower of colored lights. The goddess turned her gaze to the newly body jumped Nuit, floating in the sea of light. "So here you are, Jilitse. Please stop the 'goddess' thing. Just Priskil will do. Light shines for everyone, even those who would forsake it for the dark. You are such a strange person - I hope you won't get offended if I say that! So calculating and yet so pure in your own way. I have been watching you for some time. I did not show myself earlier because I didn't know what to make of you. So many people turn to me seeking favor and fantastic power. I can't give it to them. All I have is friendship. I was not sure that was acceptable to someone as… driven as you. You seemed much like the others, amassing connections and hoarding power to pursue a cause, no matter how just and rightful. Call me stupid, but I won't deal with that kind of people. The other gods are what they are, and I am what I am." The goddess began swimming effortlessly through the ocean of light, motioning for Jilitse to follow her. "But then I saw you fight like a lioness and realized one thing… I thought - 'this woman has never had a friend in her entire life. Even her great love is standing so much above on a pedestal of her making, that true friendship is impossible across that distance. How can I blame her for thinking the way she does?' And so, I went against my first instinct and decided to approach you." Priskil gestured broadly in front of her, and a golden door decorated with extraordinary carvings suddenly opened in the middle of nowhere. The goddess of hope pushed it open, and suddenly the two of them could walk again. They were standing in a small circular room, lit by eternally burning torches. The colors here were a cozy dark gold and maroon. Column-like statues stood at regular intervals. In the middle of the room stood some kind of large stone altar whose surface depicted two double doors. A large, dark-skinned man lay upon the altar, dressed in simple robes that covered his empty chest. He looked serene, as if sleeping. Jilitse did not need explanation to know where Priskil had taken her. "I thought if I showed you the little sanctuary in my heart, perhaps you'd show me yours?" the goddess smiled, though there was no mirth to be had in this room. "I come here every day and talk to him for a while. I tell him about my friends, the ones I make and the ones I lose. I don't know if he can hear me, but I still do." She approached the fallen god and caressed his cheek. "Tell me about yourself, Jilitse. Please. Who are you underneath your quest and your magic? Do you think we could be friends? No duties, no services owed, no schemes, no ulterior motives on either side and no pawns on the chessboard. Forget the Benshira and his doll. This is just about the two of us." Priskil looked over her shoulder at Jilitse and awaited her response, dark eyes glowing slightly with curiosity.

***

OOC: I am so sorry, Stitch, can't think of anything more to write for you right now. I'm not awarding you XPs yet as you'll probably be reunited with Jil in a few posts and you may earn more.)

[Jilitse]

As the Pycon confirmed that he had the mark of Sagallius, Jilitse's mind came to a halt. She had known this, as the Archwizard had warned her, but she hadn't fully expected the impact it would have on her. The dots connected. Drainira was marked herself. She could be... no, she is the champion of Sagallius. No doubt about that. The Nuit dreaded the implications of that logic, this lifetime journey was a battle she could not fight alone.

She had known the golem far too long as a stationary golem, a Supervisor tied to the Citadel. Even if she had seen Drainira talk the talk and walk the walk before her, her centuries old mind could not keep up. Perhaps, it was like that when you lived long. Emotions tend to stretch over time, that there was more time spent on analyzing them than actually being immersed in them. Jilitse did not move, a clock frozen in time. She had to melt the ice soon, or she would not be able to keep up with the pace of the world she now lived in.

One astonishment after another, she was being altered in real time as well. Priskil, pretty goddess that she is, did not come even close to what she had expected. She was a woman who both fell from and exceeded expectations, the Nuit could not quite decide how to act around her. Nobody taught her how to hold her manners in front of a Goddess!

If Drainira managed to crack her constitution, Priskil was able to break her shell. It was a moment when she felt like she had been bared completely, weak and naked before someone who had a totally different connotation of being a deity. The confusion stunned her, but she allowed herself to listen half-amazed at the goddess' words.

Inwardly, Jilitse felt guilty. Amassing connections and hoarding power were not kind words - the Nuit wouldn't certainly use those terms to define her actions. As Priskil floated away, Jilitse tried to come up with something to try and please the goddess. But how do you win the favor of someone so simple as Priskil? She was most certainly not attracted to people delusioned with grandeur. Jilitse floated and swam awkwardly behind Priskil. This was such a weird place to be after the Valterrian, she thought, all those bodies suspended in mid-air. Jil could not deny that the thought entered her mind: if she could whisk herself to this place every time she needed a body...

The thought dissipated as she paid attention to Priskil's words. The words rang in her ear - never had a friend her entire life. Jilitse wanted to feel sorry for herself upon realizing that the Goddess was only telling the truth. Generally she was unaffected, but the memorable words were to eat at her soul later on.

As she was ushered to enter the golden doors, the Nuit felt relieved that she no longer needed to guide herself through the feeling of weightlessness. The feeling of flight wasn't something she was accustomed to, new body or not.

Jilitse felt surreal as her eyes engraved into memory what the tomb of Aquiras looked like. It was Aquiras, the god of doors and travel. That is, until Sagallius stole his heart. This was all becoming more and more dreamlike. But in spite of the awe and veneration that had seeped into the cracks of her soul - meeting two deities in one day, how lucky can you get? - Jilitse was somewhat washed away of all the barriers her numbing core had been enveloped upon.

Priskil was generous enough to let Jilitse glimpse at what friendship is like - the vulnerable point, the heart of it all. She stood on wobbly knees, but not just because of the after-effects of body jumping, but also out of deep respect for the two divine beings before her. And so, for the second time this day, she crumbled upon herself. Her eyes widened, fingers splayed, trembling and clawing at the floor. What force of nature-- she could relate to the love Priskil felt for Aquiras. And to beckon the sad fairy tale...this was the power of love, yes? It can break you and at the same time make you strong.

Unfortunately, our heroine cannot weep, so the scene was so boringly undramatic... just a kneeling corpse with its head bowed and eyes wide. If anything, the trembling said that she was deeply shaken. Naked, in front of this Goddess. Who was she underneath her quest and her magic? A weak and vulnerable corpse. Not quite. But how can you undo a half millenia worth of monotonous experience? Jilitse forced herself to go back into her memories.

The moment she had Marie Suzanne taken away from her.

No, farther...

The day she swore her life to save Mashaen.

...Back in time.

The day Drainira left the Citadel.

Farther.

Repairing golems. Making golems. Repairing golems. Making golems. Wasn't that pretty much the last five hundred years?

Farther, Jilitse. Go back to that day. Surely you must remember?

She forced herself to remember the very day she became a Nuit, but a lot of it was left a blur in the passing of time.

Jilitse was a citizen of Alahea. Sworn to protect the kingdom and the people she loved. Because if she could do something to help, she would gladly do it. Maybe she was a patriot back in the day? She spoke in the ancient tongue, still shaking from the will to remember time backwards. There had been no need to, nobody really cared. It didn't really mattered before. Jilitse said, "I just wanted to protect the people I cared for." She slowly raised her head up and forced her eyes to see Priskil and Aquiras. "I lived at a time when Alahea had been at war, you did not have to be in the military to want to protect yourself, the things you loved, your fellowmen, your kingdom," In the end of her human life, "what mattered was what you were willing to sacrifice and if you were willing to sacrifice it." She held up her hand, cold and dead. Stared at it as she squeezed it into a fist. Batch 7. Images of the orphans and Stitch came up into her mind. Didn't they count as friends? "I... that was me, I guess. If you try to uncover every motive, every reason, every purpose wrapped around me...at the heart of it was that I wanted to do something, to not be useless, to help in the best way I can." That was as close as she could get to find out who she was.

Somewhere during the war, and the life in Sahova after, Jilitse must have lost her sense of self. As Mashaen and Priskil had both put it, she had been defined by her love for one man. "I am capable of loving." She tried hard not to involve the Archwizard in this, even if the bottom of her soul screamed that her love for him was the very thing that kept her alive... and also the reason why she nearly got killed today, but that's being ironic. "Say what you will, but this compassion be it for one man..." And what about Stitch and the kids?

Jilitse just stopped talking, as if guilt would not let her speak. Why would a blind man and four kids have such a profound effect on her?

When the Nuit spoke again, she relaxed in her place, a worn look painted on her face, "I am not sure I make a good friend, Priskil. I might fail you, just as I have failed Stitch today." Why Stitch? So she added, "And the Archwizard, and myself." Wow, for a Nuit, she could sure be emotional.

"Between the two of us?" Her voice carried melancholic gratitude. "Yes," she resigned, "I need you. Not just because you saved my life, or that we share a common enemy... but what does that make me?"

"I don't seek your favor, and if it ever crossed my mind, it is already late, as it is I who am indebted to your mercy. Neither do I amass connections..." which is proven by her entire ineptitude to have a friend. "And I am certainly not a hoarder of power." She was just borrowing those books from Sahova!

"This is what I am perhaps, a helpless, hopeless romantic." So uncharacteristic Jilitse! Just another woman in love.

"But you can help me," the Nuit insisted, "you can light my path and I shall never walk unguided. I can offer you my help, my love, my friendship."

"I can be of use."

The last line, the very same words she said when she volunteered for Project Armed. Of course, without the "even if I'll just be another corpse in the battlefield" part.

OOCGood one Tarot. You had me thinking, "what is a friend?" Even the mighty Google was not able to help. Define: friend, friendship.

[Tarot]

"But I never said you were uncapable of love," the goddess turned and smiled at Jilitse. "We exist because we love. Without Cheva there wouldn't a world to speak of. Life would be just muscle and bone without purpose. I did misjudge you, though, and for that I apologize." If anything, apologies from the gods were never an abundant commodity. "We are actually much more alike than I thought. Devotion is the word other people would use to describe us - but we are a little more complex than that, aren't we?" Priskil paced slowly across the room. "I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you. You lived through the hard times just before Ivak shook the world from its foundation. I remember precious little of that time. Every day was the same, the millennia slipped by one after another, but at least I was happy. I felt safe in these corridors of light, I thought the world could not reach me here. I didn't want the responsibilities of my rank; I just wanted to be with him. That's all I wanted. In the end, my safety was just as much of an illusion as your quiet Sahovan existence." The goddess hesitated for a moment. "We both woke up from our dream quite abruptly, did we not? And then we - we who were not born to fight - we were forced to. You see, the Benshira was not the only one. Sure, he was the first, but others followed in those desperate hours. Alvina, demigods. Some had visited us on occasion. Friendly fellows, acquaintances of Aquiras'. That day, however, they were anything but friendly. The Benshira had taken the heart, but they had come after everything else, the eyes, the hands, the feet and who knows what. The one I so loved was nothing but a lump of flesh to them, a piece of booty, a fetish to bump their own status up a drop or two." Even Priskil's gentle voice seemed to grow harder and tenser as she told Jilitse about the Valterrian. "It was a bad day. I don't like violence, as you probably know. But it was a bad day. That was when I became this new 'goddess of hope' thing. At the end of the day, when Ivak screamed from within the walls of his prison, I had gotten stronger than I thought I could ever be. And," she cast a glance at the floor, "there were Alvina ashes all over the place." She found her smile again. "I am only telling you because there are no secrets between friends, right? That's my big one. The goody-two-shoes goddess actually fighting and killing to protect her husband. But I swore to myself that I'd never do that again, that from now I'd only have friends, real friends, surrounding me." "I think you can understand that, Jilitse." Priskil extended her hand and the Nuit felt a sensation of warmth on her right hand, something she had long forgotten. Her hands had not been warm in centuries. A mark resembling a vortex appeared on the back of her right hand, glowing softly in the same white-ish tint as the goddess herself. "You have already been of use to me by just listening. I think I rather enjoy talking with you. Your life is more interesting than you think. Perhaps we have both dwelled on the past long enough. Shall we speak of the future, then? Are you truly going to fight the Counting Doll? It will be a fight beyond your imagination, and I can only be of limited help." "You don't have to do this for me. And I am sure the Archwizard told you the same about himself... but naturally this is really about you and your heart. Well then, let's show them how strong your heart is. Do you have a plan? I'm not good with plans, you know. Light tends to travel straight, most of the time at least." She leaned against one of the columns and gave Jilitse enough time to come up with an answer.

[Jilitse]

The Nuit didn't think that there was anyone else in this world, or even beyond, who could show her as much compassion as Priskil. Her respect soared to great heights, and whether she willed it herself or not, Jilitse found herself her refuge. But even then there were important matters at hand, and time was no longer a luxury she could afford. The Nuit stood her ground, although deep inside she was crumbling - the old Jilitse could no longer refuse change. Change that she had asked for so long.

Ordained into a reality with no walls, Jilitse tried to contain the turmoil inside her head. The moment she entered this sacred room, it was as if logic left her. She listened intently to Priskil, silent as she had always been her entire life. She came to be a surprise, but the Nuit could not believe that there lies a terrible secret underneath the friendly disposition of the goddess.

Even the most immaculate concealed a dark secret! But friends keep each others secrets, right? In a slow and graceful swing, she held her gaze upon the sleeping Aquiras, victim to Sagallius. And then in that fleeting moment, she was felt warmth - the light of hope shone upon her and warmed her numbing soul. It wasn't a sensation that she approved of, because she had been accustomed to death for so long. But it was there, on her right hand, the mark of friendship. She lifted her hand up with a fragile tenderness, examining the warmth and the glowing vortex and observed it in disbelief. Immediately she touched it with the palm of her other hand, in an attempt to cover the light: her mind telling her that it could not be real, her heart wishing she had thought wrong.

She stared at it wide eyed, unable to speak.

"You call Drainira by a strange name," Jilitse began, "To me she had always been a supervisor, although recently most Sahovans treat her as a traitor, a deserter." And more fiercely, "Her construct... I could not begin to imagine what she had done so far in order to rule the world," the Pycon attacking the Orphanage was but a small testament to that, "but it is not a world I wish to live in."

"The Archwizard had warned me about this," there was a forlorn smile tracing upon her lips, eyes darting from Aquiras' fallen form to Priskil. "In the end it was my choice not to rot away in Sahova. That place is already falling apart and I did not want to meet my demise by waiting for it. My reasons, back then, were still the same, I would still fight in the name of my long-forgotten empire and my great love," all throughout these years, "I fear that I put too much value in my past to be able to let go of it, but slowly," as slow as she let her words come forth, "slowly I have begun to realize that, indeed, the grave of the past must be left behind. Still, I do not think I had chosen wrong to do what I think is noble and just and right. I just wanted to free Zarik Mashaen from his loneliness... but it turns out I need to liberate myself from my own loneliness first." The Nuit had stopped unconsciously touching her right hand, "This quest, I claimed this as my own. The consequences of my actions are my responsibility. I understand that you, as the Archwizard had, might be able to point me to a direction. I have been," there was a disappointed note in her monotonous voice, "groping around blindly in Syliras for so long. Even if I knew what to do, my decisions did not truly count towards what I wanted to achieve. I've been lost in the human society. Staying with Stitch, baby sitting children, talking to strangers," She complained, letting all these out, allowing the rot and fester inside her soul to be released, "I've actually forgotten to be a wizard, a warrior. I lost sight of what I was supposed to do. Or perhaps I just did not know how to begin. Some plans tend to take so much effort than they seem to require."

"I am on this quest because I long to free the Archwizard from Sagallius' Grand Oath. The easiest out of the three conditions, and the one that the Archwizard allowed, was for me to defeat the God of Manipulation, by any means necessary." And then there was the matter of Drainira, "But a god cannot fall, not when he has the most intelligent creature serving him. Today was only a reminder to the fact that as I dawdle around with these human feelings that gnaw at my undeath, Sagallius is using Drainira to prepare an army." Jilitse cooled down and her words came out stronger, "In order to stop that army, I must first determine who I really am." I am the heroine in this story, no matter how small a side-quest it is in the epic of the gods. "I am an animator. That much has already been determined. The Archwizard is the greatest in this magical art..." Jilitse regarded Priskil with wariness, what if she did not approve the arcane knowledge that Kihala hates? "but he had already given up. I have..." Project D! "I still have the blueprint of Drainira's creation, I should be able to..." undo the wrong by another wrong? "Another golem. The Archwizard told me that Drainira's predecessors might still be alive. And I could not face Drainira by myself. I would need your aid, and the help of many others." She might need to build another golem, hopefully without Drainira's defects. That was a rough plan, and Jilitse did not even come close to a quarter of the skill needed to make that happen.

"But she is just a small distraction, a hindrance to my true quest," her voice carrying dignity, "to defeat Sagallius." And then honestly, "I am not sure how to do that, but I think that I must move quickly. I will travel to Eyktol and see if there is much more to him than his magonym. What made him capable of killing a god, what drove him to this purpose. I could not blindly fight him just because he slaved the man I love. I am against him, and all that he stands for - manipulation, deceit, control, greed for power - on principle." Jilitse had realized that, "There is far more on the plate than just freeing Mashaen." She shook her head lightly, not really regretting what she had gotten herself into.

And then Jilitse remembered that Priskil had never chosen the violent path out of things, realizing that the Goddess' secret held a truth that she must also try to understand. The Nuit explained, hands spread before her, "There can only be destruction, and we shall rebuild after that. But there will be more of destruction, much more, if we let Drainira become the Supervisor of the world." She moved, allowing herself to step towards the fallen Aquiras, "Priskil," the words came heavily, as if she was doing the goddess great dishonor by not calling her by the proper title, "if you really love Aquiras, you will not be content waiting here. Just as I have discovered, devotion and love could cause you to do greater things, many of which other mortals and gods would refuse to do. You can save Aquiras, just as much as I could save the Archwizard." Was she really doling out advice to a Goddess? "I may not be the best candidate to become your friend, but in love I can say that I could at least set an example."

"Thank you very much for your blessing." The Nuit softly said, "It is more than I deserve." She continued, without pause, "But I do know that you are Sagallius' enemy, and we both know that he is cunning enough to know that at this very moment, some little petching Nuit is already planning to foil Drainira's perfect plans. Surely you have your own plans to retrieve your beloved's heart?" Jilitse would hear it out, if there was any. "If there is anything that I could do to count towards that effort, please let me know. It would also be greatly appreciated if you could tell me anything in your knowledge that might be able to help me."

"And if it would not be too much," as she had been always curious to hear this tale, "would you share to me how exactly did Sagallius overpower Aquiras, when he was merely a man, and Aquiras was a god." There have been tales before, just as Myri, a mortal, had defeated Ruros, the God of War. The question that Jilitse felt needed to be answered right now was, "Why didn't Sagallius kill him instead?" The words were harsh, but if Priskil knew the answer, it would be another decoded page in a highly encrypted book.

Having asked everything that she needed to, Jilitse felt like it was time to go back - she refused the word home - to Stitch's orphanage. An apology was due, and she needed to secure her belongings. She will not let the rest of her tomes fall the same fate as Marie Suzanne. She would ask Priskil's blessing and promise to honor the goddess at all times from that day on.

"If I ever defeat Saghal Hrinn, I will bring you back Aquiras' heart." Jilitse promised Priskil.

[Tarot]

"Counting Doll is what I call her," Priskil said with a half-smile, "because that's what she is. I forget you can't see through her the way I do. If you could, you'd see all the light spinning around her mind, counting and counting and always counting. Comparing numbers with more numbers. People smile when they're happy. She smiles when the numbers tell her to. So, a Counting Doll she is to me." The goddess listened intently to what the Nuit had to say. She nodded every now and then, and encouraged her to go on. "I know of Animation, I know it is what made the Counting Doll and I know it is a bit controversial among some of the gods, but it is not the gods who have to live on Mizahar, it's you guys. And being the hostile world it is, you need all the help you can get as long as you take responsibility for your actions. Please, Jilitse, go on." She could not have expected Jilitse to be so long-winded, especially for a Nuit. It was like the goddess had opened a floodgate and so many words were just waiting to pour out. With centuries of near-silent existence behind Jilitse, there must have been a huge backlog there. She narrated incredible things, and asked some painful questions, but the goddess did not seem offended. That's what friends were for, after all. "Well, I'd say you have more of a plan than I do, my dear. See, a lot of my time is spent here, just keeping this silly goof alive one more day. What time I have left, I spend with my friends. They always seem to be in need of advice. Not all of it is as epic as you'd expect - every now and then I am called upon to give dating advice. I have neither the time nor the inclination to build an army, myself. It's not what I want, it's not what Aquiras would want, either. You are different, though... so driven, and you know what you want. You remind me of Mina in a way. Wilhelmina is one of my long-time friends... maybe you'll get to know her some day. She is tough and keeps pushing me to bring the fight to the Benshira. She'll likely help you if you ask her. She'll thank you for it, even. Just promise you'll be careful around creating another Counting Doll, right? Your Archwizard may have erred in good faith, but we must learn from his mistake. I'm not going to say no, but please... never lose sight of what makes us different from them? Eyktol, if you truly wish to go there, is where it all began." The goddess spoke slowly, like a storyteller. "Sahgal the Benshira and I actually go back a long time: he did not attack a couple of total strangers. We met briefly when he was young and he tried to use a backdoor in the Watchtowers to get into the Pressor's palace in Ahnatep. He wanted to save his girlfriend, what was her name? Muriel. Yes, Muriel. He loved her, I think, though I got the impression his love implied ownership. It was never that way with Aquiras. Still, from what my husband told me, this Muriel was a devoted of the Benshira god, Yahal. I believe Sahgal hated that, and in hindsight he may have been jealous of the god's marks on his beloved. I don't exactly know what happened afterwards, but there was a massive slaughter in the palace that night. The Benshira was involved, as was the world's then-strongest mage... Pycon, the one who made the clay creatures from before. Anyways, I never saw Sahgal again until the day of the Valterrian, but I am sure events of such a magnitude can't be easily forgotten. You may find something of value in Eyktol." The goddess of light shrugged. "When he attacked us... It was a combination of excellent timing, incredible skill and preparation. Aquiras was busy keeping the Watchtowers going to allow refugees to flee the worst of the Valterrian. The Benshira set up an elaborate plan, too. He hijacked at least three Watchtowers and poured their power into himself. He was gambling everything on this, for the power would have killed him in minutes unless he succeeded, which he did. As for why he didn't kill Aquiras, well, I don't think he expected him to survive. My Aquiras is a very special god, though... his selflessness saved him. All the energies he's spent over the millennia to help mankind, they're still all over the place and, together with my own, they keep him alive. At least that's what I like to think." Priskil placed a pale but warm hand on Jilitse's shoulder. "I wish you luck, Jil. Jilitse is too long to say. I will see you around when you least expect it. Do what you need to, and don't worry about me. Dira said..." Jilitse thought she saw the goddess blink back a tear, "that killing Sagallius has a high risk of destroying my beloved's heart too, but it's what we need to do. It's what he would want us to do, and besides, we can always hope... go now, go apologize to Stitch and tell him to be strong." And suddenly, the goddess was no longer there. The room with Aquiras' body was no longer there. Instead, she was standing in the Welcome Home, on the very same spot where Priskil had abducted her in the first place. The place was dark, unlit and silent, with no children's voices warming up its walls.

OOC: Stitch can post again!

[Stitch]

It was scary, almost. Perhaps the Nuit wouldn't be able to feel it. Nuit were adverse to feeling most anything, after all. Jilitse was different though, as much as she sometimes didn't want to admit it. She had felt love, and had something warm her cold heart. Even after so many years of being away from that warmth, she could still feel it. She could still feel it lighting her dark soul, keeping some sliver of hope and love burning bright. Especially now, after her encounter with Priskil... that light had been replenished and strengthened. She now had a swirling mark of Light to prove it, too. This place had once been filled with that same hope and light. Perhaps that is why she had stayed so long in the first place. But now, it was dark and empty. There was a feeling of despair invading the wooden halls. The smell of burnt wood was thick in the air, and it would bring all kinds of memories rushing back. In the presence of a Goddess, perhaps all of this had felt like a dream. Perhaps even now, it would feel like a dream. Perhaps since she had just been in the presence of Hope, she wouldn't even notice the feeling in the House. It was there, though. It was dark, lonely, sad, and hopeless. "Oh... Jilitse. You're... back." All at once, a lantern was lit, and the room blazed to light. She would be able to see a few scorch marks on the walls, although the damage wasn't that heavy to this room. She would be able to glance around the familiar area that she had walked through several times during the Fall season. It was a bit odd with the shadows lurking in the corners, but it was the Home. It was where Stitch and the Children lived, and where they had kept her for so many days. Ah, yes, Stitch. He had spoken. He had spoken in a dead voice, almost. It was apathetic and empty. He was sitting on a single wooden chair, in the middle of the room. All the other furniture had been pushed to the walls of the room. It was just him, the chair, the lantern sitting on the ground... And her books. A single stack, not a book out of place, each one put perfectly on the other. The stack was only missing one, and that one would be in Stitch's hand. "Project D", it was called. The document was clutched tightly in Stitch's fingers, and it was trembling violently. He was trying to put it on the tower of books, trying to perfectly position it so it aligned with all the others. Not a single bit of the rim could hang over the edge. It had to be perfect. His hand trembled haphazardly over the stack in front of him, his attention focused, sweat dripping from his brow. He was concentrating hard. Veins were bulging in his forehead, his blind eyes unwrapped and revealed. They were a milky white, with three perfectly aligned scratch scars across each one. For a second, Jilitse would swear that she had been able to see a flash of blue behind them. A flash of Djed. "This one is just... organizing your books for when you g-got back... just... j-just sit down and l-let me..." His trembling voice came out strained, and Jilitse would get an idea of just how wrong something was. If she dared move from her position, she would get a sharp retort, and get to hear Stitch's anger for the first time ever. "I said to sit the petch down!" It would be screamed out, suddenly and violently, but only as a reaction to any approach. She might not experience it though, if she didn't move. There was something really wrong, though. Stitch's entire body was trembling just slightly. His strange and sudden obession with the books was... uncomfortable. And were those matches that he was holding in his other hand? Why did he have a book of matches? To keep the lantern lit? "...t-they took the c-children. Said they would k-keep them... s-s-safe. Was it... nice... where you went?" He finally looked up, shivering still, holding the book tightly in his hand. He shifted a bit in his seat, and then Jilitse would be able to see further proof of his current dementia. Behind the chair he sat in, one would be able to see the Bookcase Golem, thrown on it's side. It looked as if it had been bashed several times, a bit of a worn look to the wood. It nearly looked as if it was going to crack, with the bend it had in one side. The single wheel had twine shoved all around it, keeping it from moving. It had been... abused. Stitch merely sat there, blind eyes staring at her, waiting for some sort of response.

[Jilitse]

OOC: Imagine Leliana's voice, Stitch! The Maker blesses us all! I think we could continue for a bit without Tarot? Sorry, Tarot...

After Priskil's words burned into her memory, her mind pausing temporarily at all the variables it needed to put in the equation, the everlasting Nuit found herself back at the welcome home. It was as if Jilitse had been revived, a changed woman complete with a new body, a new faith, a new Gnosis mark. Where the dark embraced her, the light on the back of her hand glowed, a reflection of the Goddess' friendship. She stood there for sometime, reflecting in the dark. She was starkly different that her previous appearance, eyes hazel, hair golden and a little wiry. She was no longer wearing the face of Clarissa's mother, liberated from the ties that bind her to the place that was neither home nor welcoming. Jil's new body was a plain beauty, and the Nuit looked like life had been breathed unto her. She was still dazed for the most part, mind trying to process what happened.

And then there was a familiar voice from behind, Stitch. He must have fought the last minutes of the battle on his own, but in the end he seemed well. At the very least, he was still alive. Jilitse wanted to ask about the kids, but felt it inappropriate, not after what had happened. She turned, more graceful than Stitch would ever remember--perhaps it was the new face. But he could not appreciate Jilitse, not now. Not after what she had done. Or rather, what she did not do. Why didn't she just give up the book?

Her face was undecided about what emotion to convey, and quite frankly there wasn't really much to feel at the moment. She began, "Yes, it's me." she eyed Stitch lazily, looking at him from the corner of her eye. Something was indeed amiss. She believed that Stitch wouldn't exactly be cheery about what had happened, but there was something else beneath the surface, folds and folds of doubt and questions. Stitch had been left alone for a short while, long enough for him to brew anger and resentment. She wasn't that callous to not figure it out. The Nuit was actually expecting it. She immediately noticed that Stitch held her precious priceless books, and she swayed forward counting them without blinking, including the one he held on his hand.

She was met with the full force of Stitch's outburst, that she jumped back in surprise. That was a lot, considering that Nuits rarely display such instantaneous reactions. The light in her hand dimmed, and she conceded to Stitch's orders. She brought herself to a corner of the room, choosing to lean on a table before taking a seat upon it. She didn't place an eye on the golem, nor on the hand that carried the flammable object. Instead, she met Stitch's eyes with her own.

"It was very lonely where I went," Jilitse softly said, "Priskil brought me to a watchtower, and I had to discard my old body immediately." A short pause, "I sincerely apologize about Clarissa's mother. I did promise that we would give her a proper burial, but the circumstances were against us."

She had a new-found courage, a certainty about her that he had not seen before. Jilitse had no choice but to put everything forward now, there would be no use for lies or half-concealed truths. She spoke immediately, "Remember when I told you that I had been searching for Priskil? That I wished to learn about the Order of Radiance, that I was seeking her out?" He would remember, of course, but the Nuit had always been rather vague about everything until now, "Remember when I said I am stopping by Syliras to gather and prepare myself for something? The day we met you already knew the importance of the books to me, I felt it even without you saying it." She continued talking without pause, not giving Stitch room for another angry outburst, "Do you regret anything, Stitch? Do you regret letting me in, keeping me safe? Do you regret not asking, not knowing?" The words would be blades cutting through wounds, "Should you have just thrown the suspicious Nuit who came here last Fall outside in the streets?" Who was the one who should be guilty here?

She spread a lonely look around the home. "I do not know where to begin, but you already know that I have not been entirely honest about many things. If it is not too late, please hear my explanation." She would continue, whether she was met with harsh words or not, "My story began a few centuries ago, back then there was war. And this war was not the war of the Valterrian, something older, ancient. I am a citizen of Alahea, and have always been even after the day that I was formally transformed into a walking corpse to serve the empire," Though the blind man may wonder, what use would a Nuit be to a kingdom that was no more? "Yaska Reqire of Lisnar," she introduced herself, allowing a bow of the head, as if this was the first time that she met Stitch, "was an Alahean mage who practiced animation, the kind of magic that brought birth to the Counting Doll." She used Priskil's name for Drainira, but it was still the same monster, the same golem. "But not everyone goes around and creates androids. In fact, very few mages can. Many animators died during the war, and many more during the Valterrian. One of the greatest, if not the best among those written in history is the Archwizard of Sahova. His name is Zarik Mashaen. The Counting Doll is his creation, his daughter."

"The golem wasn't always walking around in a fake human body. For the last five centuries she was just a big slab of stone upon which the foundation of Sahova was built upon. Sentient, artificial life." Stitch finally had an idea what animation was, unlike the first time they met. "Her kind is called a supervisor, overseer of the biggest known Alahea facility in the world. Think of what Syliras would be like if there was an omnipresent being that could organize and manage the whole castle. Everything is automated, taken care of. Everything is perfect, or will be, as long as somebody is in charge, in control."

Her words slowed cadence, tempting Stitch to pay attention, "But she is neither Sahova's supervisor nor Mashaen's daughter anymore." Why, you might ask, am I boring you with this long tale? Please hold on to your anger and let me finish, "Not too long ago she orchestrated a fool proof way to escape Sahova. Actually, one would say that she had been planning her escape from the very beginning, and she merely waited for the right time and the perfect opportunity. It is no doubt that she is," she paused, a little dramatically, "under the influence of a God." Jilitse shifted and stood up, absently waving a hand as if demonstrating a lecture. "She was the perfect puppet for the perfect manipulator, another great mage known as Saghal Hrinn, but people call him the god Sagallius these days." Jilitse's face softened, eyes conveying the apology that she could not bring to her lips, "It goes on and on, a grand story that you think would not involve a random soul such as Yaska Reqire."

"My part in this story is older than Sahova. You may not believe it, but the very reason I am standing here is because of my love, my devotion to the archwizard as his apprentice. The Archwizard is prisoner to Sagallius' grand oath, a powerful contract that binds him to a life of undeath until Alahea conquers the Suvan. A rather outdated purpose in life, more so if you realize that there is the kingdom of Alahea is no more as the kingdom of Suvan is no more." She bid herself a sigh, and she met Stitch's eyes, "But more than that, Sagallius had also pulled the strings of every Sahovan Nuit through the Counting Doll. When she left Sahova, she decided to destroy the Citadel. And she would have succeeded and all of us would have perished, if not for a brave Isur named Ialari Pythone who defied the golem. Drainira calls her a minor statistical fluctuation. To many of the undead in Sahova, she is a savior." She continued, "Sahova was saved, perhaps it will remain to exist for a few more decades." Jilitse checked if Stitch was still following her story, and she would persuade him to hear the rest of the tale, a tender plea in contrast to his raging impulse. "And then I learned later on that the Counting Doll had been under the control of Sagallius, god of deceit and manipulation, that she had been working for him all this time."

"I was here because I needed to stop her and her plan to become supervisor of the entire world. I was planning to begin a strategy... But, she stopped me instead." If Stitch could see her now, Jilitse was sincere, all her words honest. "Those books were borrowed from the Great Library of Sahova. The best of them, the one that she took, the one that I refused to give up, was known as Marie Suzanne. It was a book that was alive in its own way, though if it was an artificial construct like her I did not have the ability to tell."

"If you could read the book in your hand right now," Jilitse murmured, feeling a little defeated, "That is the account of the process of creating the Counting Doll. It is called Project D, "D" for "Drainira". I do not know if she knows I have that book, and if she knew that it is in my possession, surely she would have been interested to aqcuire it... but I have no idea why she chose to take Marie Suzanne, her sister, instead."

Sister. If Drainira was Mashaen's daughter, and Marie Suzanne was Drainira's sister... then could Marie Suzanne be Bianca Mashaen?

"I did not give the book up because they were important, vital to my purpose." She said, voice trembling with grief, "They are mine to look after, just as the children are yours to protect. I did not put more value in my books than their lives Stitch, but it came to me as an instinct. I apologize if I placed my best interests before that of yours," and in the end, "I wish that you would try, I'm sure it would be hard to understand, to put yourself in my perspective." The undead added, "May I ask for my books back?" It was so polite, knowing full well that everything - literally - was in Stitch's hands right now.

She paused, just enough to wait for Stitch's reactions so far, "I know I haven't even begun apologizing for the harm I have caused you, but tell me Stitch, you knew her. You knew the Counting Doll, even before today." It was not accusation, Jil knew it to be true and she just wanted to hear confirmation. She had replayed that scene a few times since, remembering well how Drainira had said, "And to finally make your acquaintance Master Stitch. The note about the Game does not really count, right?" She repeated those words to Stitch, forcing him to remember. Sure Jilitse had made some terrible decisions today, kept the truth to herself for a very long time, but she wasn't the only one with some explaining to do.

Jilitse waited for Stitch's answer. If he even dared to bring harm to any of the books or Jilitse herself, Stitch would find the light in Jilitse's hand flashing, glowing brighter. And even if he weren't angry the same light would begin to shine through the dark, lighting Jilitse's dim corner. Lighting a tiny corner of his heart, letting him hear the echo of hope defeating despair.

The Nuit observed Stitch before extending her right hand, determined to win back her friend, "Allow me this much, Stitch. If not for me, then at least for Priskil." A very faint smile, "Be strong, she said." She persuaded him, "Please. Please, do not let the power of deceit take over you."

[Stitch]

He only gave a slight movement to let her register that he was actually listening to her words. His head was positioned as if it was staring at her, and as she began to speak, he leaned forward a little bit. That was all. He wouldn't move until he was done, nor would he say a word. As she finished, he twitched in his seat, a single vein throbbing even thicker within his forehead. "You should have told me!" He shot up, and as he did, he kicked out, the toe of his boot smashing into the stack of books he had so neatly arranged, sending them tumbling to the ground in a flurry of flying paper. He didn't seem to care for her story. It didn't move him, nor did it shock him. It was as if it went through one ear, and out the other. He kicked at one of the books, then he stepped over them, his body flexing wildly, rage and sorrow twisting his features. Her hand flashed brightly at his rage and his approach, but he didn't seem to care. He didn't even pay attention to it. "Yes, I regret it all! I do! I can see, Jilitse! I knew from the moment you stepped into this house that you weren't going to tell me a thing! I still accepted you! I still trusted you! And what do you do? You took advantage! You changed my life, and you changed it for the worse, while you plan on merrily skipping away!" Like the children! "They were going to die, Jilitse! What if Priskil wouldn't have came? What then? Will you throw away everything else in order to win this fool quest? Will you put everyone in your path in front of you, just to guard you and your books?" Again, another step forward. "And let me guess... you are leaving now, aren't you? Empowered by your new ideals? I can see it, Jilitse! I can see her in you! I can see your resolve, and it takes you past this place! You are going to leave, and I am the one left with nothing!" Like the guests! Like the Knights! I am without love, without parents, without anyone to turn to but children! Filthy little orphans, who remind me daily of what I used to be! Of what I always was! Burdens that require my attentions, day in, day out! Giving me no time for myself, no life of my own! I am homeless, loveless, lifeless! People coming to and fro, preying on my generosity! Taking kindness from me, then throwing their love and their friends in my face! Never staying, always leaving me! Why do they leave! Tell me, why do they leave! Why does no one want me now, and why did no one want me then? Why am I stuck at that forsaken hell hole of a building, for the rest of eternity? Tell me! Why! Anger. He had never felt it so furiously like he had now. Unspeakable words were rising from deep within his heart, words that he didn't even know had existed until now. He couldn't help it! He felt hurt and betrayed! He felt as if she had survived this ordeal, and was stronger for it... but all the cost would fall on him! He had fell back a step just to raise her higher! "Take your books!" He motioned to them on the floor. "Take all of them! All of them with you!" He stepped forward again, and suddenly, he was within range of her hand. "But there is something you need to know, first. As much as I hate you for everything you have done..." Suddenly, his free hand snapped out, and he clasped her glowing palm, engulfing it in a firm handshake. Clarity shot through the fear and sorrow in his mind, like a bolt of searing flame. His took in a deep breath, his palm trembling in hers, his body flexing and shuddering as tension released from it. "...this one could never hate you for anything you do." It was a breath of relief. He had realized what her palm had contained, and had decided to accept it, even admist all of his rage. He had known that he was drowning in despair and anger, and had known that Priskil's light would refresh him. She hadn't even had to try very hard to convince him. What was his game, then? Why had he gone off on that rant? "You needed to hear that." He released her hand, and let it fall, breathing hard, looking like a slightly more ragged version of the normal Stitch. "You walk a dangerous path, and it isn't one that this one would let a friend go down." He stepped back, and stared upon her, suddenly seeming stronger. Wiser. The only thing that gave away that this was still the same Stitch was the trembling of his hands. He was just trying to look strong. For her. "This one can see deep enough into you to know you are a good person... But with your good intentions... comes some darkness, as well. You are willing to do almost anything to achieve your goal. If you would have been offered Drainira's life in exchange for this one's... What would you have done? You were basically offered a choice of the lives of my Children... or the chance to one day kill Drainira... And it was obvious what you chose." That was his excuse for allowing himself to go on a rant. He had wanted her to hear things that he couldn't say otherwise. That, and it had felt good to just be filled with rage, for once in his life. He sighed, stepping away from her, tossing Project D onto the pile he had made. "This one is scared for you. Scared of what you may one day become. Scared that your morals are twisted and shaped only by what you want. Did you notice that you didn't actually say you were wrong to put that book before this one's children? You just made up excuses. This one doesn't want to hear excuses." Stitch sighed, and stepped away, back to where he had been sitting. His head was clearer, and his dangerous rage was gone. But he was still sad. Sad to where this path had led the two of them. "Take your books and go, Jilitse. You are forgiven. This one could never be angry at you, no matter how angry this one manages to get at that fact. But... this one doesn't want to damage our friendship any more than it already has... and the longer you stay, the longer this one will resent everything that this one feels you caused." He paused, and something resembling a ghost of a smile appeared on his tired face. "Oh, and how this one knows Drainira? It doesn't matter. You have told this one everything, but only to try and make up for your wrongdoings. But..." Stitch paused, and the smile stretched, if only a bit. He looked so sad. "...if we meet again, this one will tell you. This one promises. This one just wishes you would commit this meeting to memory. Remember everything that happened here, and take it with you when you have another important choice to make." If they met again.