The Sin and the Sinner [private, Sondra please]

[Leo Varniak]

48th day of winter, 509 AV

In between the Triad's preparations for the raid on Rhysol's temple, Leo Varniak felt a special need to approach Sondra for a talk - which was something of an unprecedented event in the pyromancer's life. Truth be told, he was thankful to her in more ways than one, for it had been her intervention making it possible for them to go on this extremely dangerous quest without any guarantee that they would even do the right thing in the end. Which was exactly the path Leo wanted to follow.

And so, while they were unpacking some of their belongings in the building that was soon to become their headquarters, Leo actually approached the Konti in a moment of privacy. As in, Terminus was otherwise occupied - the Naryn, however, was not, and Leo had found it nearly impossible to shake off the creature while in the building. Leo thought the Naryn was a rather ominous presence in the house, and one that was obsessed with him specifically. Wherever he went, the shapeshifter followed. If Leo turned around, the creature pretended to be taking a blissful nap. It was downright creepy, but he'd have to get used to it.

Now, it should be said that Leo's word-per-day ratio was painfully low most of the time, which made him a very bad conversation starter, however he gave it his best shot.

"If you have a moment," he said in his happy tone - Leo had exactly three tones of voice. The average one, which which was about as cheerful as a boulder. The judgment one, which was deeper and usually meant someone was about to enter self-combustion. And the happy tone, which could be distinguished from the average tone in that it was slightly faster and he actually used a little bit of body language while not looking at you like he was a Knight on patrol in Sunberth.

"We should probably have a talk about things," he said like the charmer he was. "Ivak things, things of mine and things of ours. You are new to many of these things. Perhaps you'd care to join me for a walk? Away from the eavesdropper?" He cast a glance at the Naryn as it rolled over lazily on its belly as if on cue.

[Sondra]

Thus far Sondra's spatial organizational skills consisted of, "I don't know, making piles of like Shyke," and nudging stuff into various corners with her foot. Her Grandmother had a beautiful home with towers, window treatments and murals, from which Sondra had gathered how things ought to look, but never quite how to make it so. The Konti occasionally lifted her head to glare at the room, angry it did not arrange itself. Maybe it needed greenery.

Thankfully, the Naryn had designated Leo as its patron during the process, and gave the Konti a wide berth. Faux-cat or not, it made her nose run and her throat itch.

The Konti was on the floor rooting through one of her artful piles when Leo addressed her. His tone of voice didn't bode well. It sounded like a parent trying to put a bright spin on the fact one's angry and flatulent Aunt was going to visit.

She glanced up and replied, "Fire away."

Not the best choice in words considering her audience. Leo then mentioned a talk and a multitude of "things". The Konti looked back at the eavesdropper and shrugged.

"Fair enough."

She stood up and fell in beside Leo, "I'm starving to boot. If the walk ends at a tavern, all the better."

The Konti pointed at the lounging Naryn, suddenly addressing it, "I know your game, fluffy. Stay put."
She didn't know if it would work, but it was worth a try.
"Maybe it'll go underfoot of Terminus, he strikes me as a sap for small creatures."

Leo was a cryptic figure to Sondra. She liked his gallows humor and decided lack of finesse, however she couldn't shake from her mind his absolute seriousness regarding his teapot with the raging house fire.
She considered him further as she put on her coat to venture outdoors.
Doubly marked by a god known for outburst and an heir to his lineage, Leo just didn't fit what he was supposed to be, but neither did she. You couldn't escape one's nature forever, though, just as her sight came in violent waves she wondered if Leo was wound tight enough to fray.


"Well, Leo," she announced as they moved outside into the cold, "What's on your mind?"

[Leo Varniak]

Ascribing to the saying 'eat to live, don't live to eat', Leo was far from gluttonous, but he too saw the sense in eating three times a day. He was not, however, a frequent patron of any kind of establishment, much preferring to (over)cook his own food. A part of him actually related the idea of taverns to his violent stand-in of a father, and he had grown to flee such places as undesirable. At the same time, he was hesitant to force his own cooking on Sondra, and there was a noted lack of food in the building. Unless the Naryn counted as being edible.

A tavern would have to do.

"Any place is fine," he gave a curt nod, "your choice." He did not put on any more layers of clothing as he followed the Konti out the door: it might have been different in Taldera, but his two marks and the way he'd overgiven several years prior made such things superfluous in the Syliran weather.

He closed the door behind him and stopped to stare at the 'Zaital Consulting' sign hanging over the door. They would probably have to have it replaced once they got their new shop going. Leo hoped his companions had more of a business sense than he did. Leo's stopped at counting coins correctly (which was still better than nothing).

"Too many things," he replied tersely to Sondra's inquiry. His steps were long and methodical, always aiming for the same stride and rhythm. He may well have been counting them. "I am not used to this… to being part of a group, that is. There are so many variables… so many unknowns. It is slightly overwhelming."

Leo was an analytical person if there ever was one. He liked to dissect a problem until he found a satisfying solution, at which point he just tended to burn what was left of it. This time the quandary may be more than he could chew, or ignite. "When I contacted you last night, I had no idea Glav's plan was to ascend to godhood. I might not have been as motivated to introduce you to him if he had said so earlier."

"Trust," he spoke the word as if weighing its nuances. "All my reasonings stop in front of that door. All of this boils down to trust, and who should have ours. Admittedly, I have always had a problem with trust." It was quite obvious from the way he looked around, scrutinizing the passers-by as if the plump owner of the flower stall were about to draw a knife on him. "Ivak has a way of choosing some unlikely people to pursue his cause. I wonder if this is a sign of intelligence or madness. What was your impression of today's meeting? Mine is probably quite biased."

He was genuinely interested in hearing Sondra's opinion. He believed that her answers were more than just wisdom from the gutter. She may be an atypical Konti, but she was still a Konti. Life must have jaded her in some striking way as it did Leo. He would have found her gift maddening, as well - to know the sins of people without being able to do anything about it more often than not. Not knowing how her gift worked, Leo wondered if she'd turned her sight on him yet. Was his approach to justice a sin too? If so, what a glorious blaze she would see.

[Sondra]

"Today's meeting?"
The Konti stretched her neck, trying to remove the kink stress had put in it. She reached up to rub the muscle with her fingertips, only to be reminded of the twisting cobalt flames that now adorned the nape of her neck.
Laviku's scales, Avalis's gift, Ivak's mark, her mother's coloring, scars from Eunoe, Syliras's tear, for all the company her body bore she still felt isolated.

"It was one wild tea party. Should've known walking into a temple." A quick smirk, "You enter those things curious and you leave them hitched."

It was hard for Sondra to not be flippant, the circumstance was too tightly woven and wide to quantify easily. Her description would butcher it one way or another, so she chose the path of least resistance first.

It took a span of patient silence for her to delve into something more.

"The tranquility things shakes me, though." An odd idea that peace of mind would make someone antsy.
"When I am untroubled, visions are clearer. Some things I don't want the details."

She made a gesture as if waving black thoughts from the air like one would a gnat. Her hands were scrupulously gloved.

"And where's the line between serenity and apathy? Forgiveness and tolerance? When I stop feeling anger is when I know it's over."

Sondra was leading them now, sure of where she was heading. When she walked she kept her limbs close and her hands in her coat pockets.
"There's worse things than anger, I think," she continued, "There's deeming nothing worth your anger."

The Konti stopped herself from saying more. She contemplated the round toes of her boot, the shape of the cobblestone, the color of the dust. The trick with Sondra was waiting long enough for her to start again.

She turned a few corners, her head tucked down as she wove through crowds. Her eyes flitted upward, only to gauge the swell of a crowd, otherwise she avoided bodies by watching the direction of their feet.

"Everybody's got something to hide, Leo," she announced suddenly,"Some pet sin or want they feed. Trust is about gambling on who will or won't forsake you to keep that sin fed."

The Konti was making herself queasy with philosophizing.
"Now tell me your impression of the meeting before I talk myself into a stupor."

[Leo Varniak]

Leo Varniak was, if not a great speaker, at least a great listener. He had spent his childhood doing nothing but listening to the world around him, listening and thinking things over. Later in life he had come to the conclusion that eyes and ears were pointless without a strong hand to act upon their messages. A good ear, a good hand, and the willingness to bridge the distance between the two was all it took to cleanse the world.

He usually took his time replying to things. When he didn't, like with Glav, it was invariably a sign of mounting unease. His answers came out delayed by the necessary amount of analysis, and the need to double-check them for correctness. "I have always been uneasy around the gods and their temples, to be totally honest. Ivak is the one exception, and not only because I owe him. At least he will not tell people what they should think. He is smart enough to not ask for what they can't give. Faith, in my case."

He sidestepped a small assembly of people while remaining on Sondra's tail. "You are good at navigating through a crowd," he noted as an aside, but let the matter drop. She had obviously been living off street smarts and expedients. Leo could be sneaky if he wanted to, but usually faced things heads-on.

When asked to provide his own impression of the meeting, Leo's eyes narrowed slightly. "You made some good points and I could have listened some more, but as you wish. My impression is that Glav will support us as long as the benefits outweigh the risks. The very moment his secret identity is at risk, he will drop us for the greater good - which conveniently happens to be his own, too."

He took a long breath and looked up at the wintry sky. "I speak as someone biased against the gods, but at least I am not afraid to say so to their faces. I… once shot a firebolt at Akajia, you know. She was manipulating some people with her dark gifts. It did not work too well, but at least I think I distracted them from fulfilling her designs." Leo was a real pain for mortals and immortals alike to deal with. If anything, his redeeming quality was that he put his money where his heart was. Sniveling behind someone's back just wasn't his style.

"And that," he commented, "was a big tangent, wasn't it? I do think Glav's gifts have their uses, even mine. I could tether the Naryn to some place with it. Yours is definitely more promising, but do let me know if you ever want to trade items, okay? If you are worried about fake tranquillity washing over you and robbing you of your anger, though… that is an interesting perspective." He remained deadpan through the entire speech.

Leo tucked his hands in the pockets of his trousers, thoughtfully. "I often have had to deal with my anger in the past. I believe the answer lies in turning that anger into something higher, but even stronger… clearer and more terrible, in a way. Sometimes I try to imagine myself looking at my anger from the outside. When the blind urge for destruction fades into the deep conviction that you must do what needs doing, then you could call that tranquillity."

He paused for a short moment. "Sadly, I am still far from achieving something so pure. I run a very real risk of ignoring Glav's warnings should I meet this Black Hand of Rhysol. But there is always hope." Sondra could probably see that he was not without feelings, though they were jumbled together and hidden from most, himself included. "Of course there is, or I would not be trying to empty an ocean with a bucket," he said and grinned humorlessly.

"You were looking at my teapot last night," he stated, back in full-fledged judging mode. "What do think of my art?"

[Sondra]

Sondra's mind had not bothered to articulate her impression of Leo. She had gauged and absorbed it with ease when most would have faltered and paused to dissect the young man. His manner and guardedness was familiar, similar to her own, so she accepted it without judgment.

He had also garnered goodwill from the Konti. An invitation to something bigger had been rendered to her on little more than hunch and belief. There was faith in the human, even when he was wary of the word.

The Konti smiled at the story about Akaija, entertained by Leo's moxy. The look passed quickly, but was pleasant for its lack of sarcasm. Most her smiles were half mocking, either chiding herself or the other person.

Leo's version of tranquility made her brow furrow.
"Perhaps. But there are some affairs where one must feel the struggle, or you run the risk of being too proud and sure of your convictions."

So he had a hunger for blind destruction? Voracious and unfeeling as fire itself, but it was tempered by his acknowledgment of the fault. The struggle was the comfort. It was becoming clearer and clearer what kind of Azenth she was connected to.

Sondra flinched, surprised by Leo's question regarding his illustration. Her expression turned wry with a gradual grin.

"Your art? I find it disconcerting," the Konti didn't mince words, "I like fire and all, but I see enough awful things as is. I don't like anymore reminders of suffering and loss. I'd like, I don't know, seashells or flowers on my teapot."

She elaborated.
"Some people live in ignorance of evil, or confine it to far away people and places. Perhaps they need reminding, but I have seen enough to make me sick."

Sondra kicked at a loose cobblestone.
"It was worse when I was young. My grandmother and mother fought about how to deal with it. My mother wanted to shelter me, my grandmother wanted to make me strong and someday indifferent by exposing me to all manner of people. I think both had their points, but I wish Grandmother would have waited longer."

The Konti was relaying more than she liked. Things were trickling out because she had been keeping them dammed from her tongue for years.
"I mean how do you explain to a five-year-old what rape is?" Her steel colored eyes had a flicker of pain, "Why should you have to?"

The Konti tried to soften her initial answer, a little late.
"To each their own art wise. Good job technique wise."
Anyone else would have tried a conciliatory shoulder pat at that juncture, but neither she nor Leo were keen on touching.

Without noticing, they had arrived at the Rearing Stallion. Sondra decided to be generous and not drag Leo to her usual haunts.

"This place is good. The liquor isn't as potent nor the crowd as colorful as Sunberth taverns, but it's fair enough."

Sondra led them to a table, but excused herself for a jaunt to the bar. When she returned, she was armed with two mugs of ale. In her mind, this was a noble present: drink that didn't scorch on the way down and blister on the way up. She slid one to Leo with a quick smile.
"Made with honey I think."

The Konti settled into her seat, sipping the ale, for that moment, she seemed almost happy.
"Well, Leo, when would you like to get it over with?"
Sondra shrugged, "It's bound to happen at some point, you can either tell me or I can see for myself. Maybe a little of both."

[Leo Varniak]

Leo's questions were, in many ways, more revealing than his answers. As one who spoke little, every word must count. He also liked to catch the other person off-guard every once in a while, a trait from his more predatorial side. The question about the teapot and its disturbing scene painted in bright enamels was not unlike asking about the statue of a man to learn about the man himself.

"I painted plenty of flowers on porcelain when I was little," he remarked, as if discovering the fact for the first time, "but that was then. Now is now. An artist is true to himself when he paints what he sees with his eyes shut. I am just being true, is all." The memories slowly returned to him… painting a red rose bouquet on every saucer in a set of twelve. They had a list of patterns that young Leo had committed to memory, and once his mother marked each piece with its number he would just start painting by heart with purely mechanical strokes. Could one even call that art?

He was gradually forming a few hypotheses on Sondra. His brain could only ever work in profiling mode. Her relationship to her sight was a complex one, as expected, but to call it one of fear would be missing the point entirely. It wasn't that Sondra feared her ability, or even that she truly disliked it. On a superficial level, maybe. But deep down, Leo suspected she would be maddened by its privation, possibly more so than by its increment. Perhaps this was her quandary, she had been born to handle her gift to perfection but people had - willingly or not - bent her out of shape as she grew.

"I see," he replied to her confession, and he did not immediately add more, though he was obviously mulling it over. "I probably cannot fully understand, not bearing the sight myself, but it feels like your mother's method would have been the better one for you. I would have picked your grandmother's for myself, though. I never had much need for filters even in my childhood." Probably not the answer she was expecting to hear, but if one had the strength and conviction to bear it then pain was the best source of strength.

Leo blinked at the sign of the Rearing Stallion. How he had hated this sign as a child. It always reminded of the man he'd called father, returning home drunk - no, transformed. No longer human. And then the beatings would begin, because there wasn't enough money or the food wasn't good enough or business was not profitable enough or the apprentices were not being controlled enough. Never enough. It was almost fascinating, the way any discussion was always headed that way regardless of how it started, and over what.

Still, he swallowed the old gust of feeling and stepped into the tavern behind Sondra. He sat at a table, with the relaxed attitude of someone who just ate a broomstick, and waited for her to come back. He gave the mug of ale a long, stationary look. "I will accept it as a gift," he stated, "but I don't drink alcohol, sorry. I fail to see what people find so appealing about it."

He tilted his head and nodded slowly. Of course, she wanted to take a look inside him. "I don't mind," he answered with a slowly appearing grin. He was certain he could sense a form of addiction in her, and not only to the drink. "You have the want together with the fear. A most artistic combination, and one for which I am willing to be an open book. I will share three things with you beforehand. First, the house on the teapot was my own. Second, I caused the fire. Third, that was the first of many fires. Scrutinize my soul to your heart's content, Sondra. Perhaps you will find something even I don't know." He slid his hand across the table, suspecting by the presence of gloves on her person that she needed to touch him.

[Sondra]

Sondra withdrew when Leo made his observations on the role of a alcohol. She folded her arms without realizing, and her regard became a quiet appraising stare. It was only deepened by his minor confession. Had she chosen company worse than her own without realizing?

She was going to pick her way through the conversation bit by bit, dividing her reactions into edible pieces best she could.

"Drink is often a balm to people who feel too much. We all have different capacities for emotion."
The Konti reached for Leo's mug and slowly brought it toward herself, ignoring his hand for now.
"Which might explain why you find no appeal in it."

After taking a sip from his mug, Sondra pressed on.
"I don't know you fully, just as you don't know me fully. But you said you weren't the sort for filters. Which tells me you had nothing you thought worth protecting."
The Konti paused, letting him follow her brand of logic.
"And that means you had nothing to lose, or at least believed you did. Both tragic."

Sondra's wounded feelings were making her more vocal than normal. Her own conscience was tender on the point of her habit of over-imbibing.
"We're both choosing indifference to loss, Leo. I just need a little help getting there."

The Konti looked at the surface of the table, following the lines in the grain. Her mind was passing over to a new thought, not bothering to alert Leo of its transition.

"Sometimes, I want to know. Often I get a sour gut from what I see, sometimes, though, I am relieved. And that--"
The Konti had a quick reminisce.
"And that feels like salvation."

She began to remove her gloves.
"If I was wise, I'd tell you to keep your secrets, because I am pledged to you, regardless, because it may never matter, because I wouldn't mind liking someone."

Her hands had fine scales over the delicate skin, moon-tints of violet and silver petering away into flesh by the knuckles. They looked contrary to the morbid skill they possessed.

"But wisdom jumped ship a while back. All I've got now is a bit of cunning."

She opened her hand on the table, leaving the final decision to Leo.

"And cunning tells me to find out if you're better company than the last fellow."

OOCShall you describe what she sees, or shall I paraphrase? I'm peachy with either.

[Leo Varniak]

"You are probably over-analyzing my aversion to alcohol," Leo replied, barely cracking a smile, "which means you probably never experienced your father limping back home, as drunk as they come, and beating you and your mother throughout the night for no apparent reason. You could say, as many do, that the violence was already inside him and the drink merely brought it out, but I'm not taking any chances. I want my actions to be my own, always."

In Leo's mind, Sondra had no need for the oblivion of the drink. It was just doing harm upon her body and soul. He could see another victim of the liquid in front of him, and like all the others before her she denied there was a problem at all. "Don't worry about me, though. I am used to people disagreeing with me. Sometimes they nearly claw my eyes out." The way he said that suggested that the topic was not buried once and for all. It just meant Leo had seen no opening in Sondra here and now, but he had marked it as a long-term task to work on. It was obvious Leo Varniak could never let go of anything, only postpone.

He watched with curiosity burning in his eyes as the Konti removed the gloves. He thought she had the hands of royalty, and even without possessing any sort of special sight he knew they had a power. The Konti hid underneath the leather or fabric of a glove, but remained a Seer nevertheless. "Like you, I want to know, if only to change what needs changing. I have already come to terms with the fact that most people are tainted. A few are beyond redemption and must be purged. Salvation in looking at sins, though? There is right. And there is wrong. That doesn't change whether there is one righteous man or a million. And that's enough for me."

His hand was still there for her to touch if she so wished. Leo doubted Sondra would find salvation in his cosmos. In fact, he had a pretty specific idea of what she would be seeing, and his prophecy turned out to be correct.

Leo was younger in this vision, probably around eighteen years old. He stood upon the fallen figure of an adult Syliran male, tiny flames still dancing on the man's ruined clothing. The man's skin was red and bleeding with serious burns. Leo's expression was unforgiving, and more threatening than he one he had in the present. He had broken into the house with a stratagem and assaulted him with a barrage of flames.

"Confess. Your soul will be lighter and fly to greater heights if you share your burden," Leo spoke as a priest might.

"I… I've done nothing, you bastard," the man managed with his dying strength. "I love my wife. I wouldn't abuse her."

"You lie. I have heard her cries in the night well enough. Every single night. I came to serve justice. She is better off without you."

"I… love…" and with that, the man died. Leo bit on his lower lip, frustrated. Why did they never confess? You could catch them red-handed in the act, you could collect a multitude of proof and witnesses. Even in their final moments, they almost always denied. It was only in the mystery novels that the culprit confessed in the end, revealing his method and motive.

He looked at the body and began forming plans regarding its disposal. He was interrupted by the key turning in the hole and the door opening. A woman stepped into the room and stared at the scene in utter horror.

"You are free. This man will never bother you again." Leo was expecting, if not gratitude, at least some measure of relief in the woman. Much to his surprise, she broke down instead. "Jocu! Jocu, my love! Oh, gods!"

She knelt down by the body, slapping its face with more and more forcefulness. "He was dangerous and abusive. He…" Leo began.

"Shut the shyke up, son of a bitch!" she screamed, silencing a very surprised Leo. "It wasn't his damned fault if he couldn't always control himself. He was my husband and you fuckin' killed him!"

"I…" Leo tilted his head, still expressionless. It was like being faced with a reality in which two and two added up to five - Leo was not equipped for that.

She rose suddenly, tears streaming her cheeks. "Guards! Guards!" she yelled, heading desperately for the door.

"No, wait!" Leo reached out, trying to grab the woman's arm. They needed to discuss this calmly. Surely she would agree with him past the initial shock, once she could see things clearly. She would see how much better Leo Varniak had made her life. No need to call the guards who believed in the letter of the law rather than the spirit of it - they might very well want to execute him even if he was obviously in the right.

It didn't work out as planned, to use an understatement. The woman lost her balance and tripped over her husband's leg. Her head flew into the sharp corner of a wooden table, staining it with crimson blood. She crashed down and never rose again.

"Damn."

Leo Varniak leaned back on his seat, the movement betraying some amount of nervousness. He was not entirely indifferent to Sondra's discoveries after all. "Did you see something from the times when I was a little over-zealous, so to speak?" Nowadays he always looked for a double confirmation of guilt before executing someone.

[Sondra]

Leo's recounting of his drunken father's rages stole the Konti's scant color. She squirmed and muttered what might have been an apology if it was audible. She was a sinspeaker, not a mind-reader.

Even still, she sipped her ale, meeting Leo's contemplative stare. He was looking at her like a knot to untangle, and it made her doubly eager for the drink in front of her. Her pride and indignation were stirring. Human was likely half her age, what did he know? If she wanted a damn ale, she'd have one without junior tsk-ing her.

"A little divine blood has given you a taste for playing god it seems."
Sondra dropped Leo's hand, more disappointed than appalled.

"I've seen better, I've seen worse, but your calmness about it is rare."

The Konti replaced her glove, her fingertips brushed her palm, and she closed her eyes as if experiencing a flash of pain. She recovered by taking another drink.

"Salvation is seeing a sin and a man, not just a sinner. We can't change the past but we can live as though we are begging grace of the present."

The Konti flicker her hair out of her face and leaned back in her chair.
"Those sad, noble bastards make me feel better. I like the idea of redemption. Mostly because I need it myself."

Her feet were jutting under the table at an angle, almost kicking Leo's shins and she was sinking in her chair, looking nothing like a prophetess. Sondra looked tired, the chips and dings to her mind and body growing more profound.

"Yes, Leo," she finally stopped making circles in her conversation, "I saw something over-zealous."
The Konti laughed mordantly, "Kill a man for beating his wife and you up and split her head open. Isn't that just a daisy?"

Sondra pursed her lips, "Well at least I know you're not a total stickler for right and wrong."
This made her brighten a bit, "Otherwise, you'd killed yourself by now."

Sondra reached for her mug but only held it. It was her version of folding her hands since she didn't like her fingers to touch.

"A friend once said there is a difference between justice and goodness. The more I think about it, the more I am inclined to agree. One can be just and still be doing an awful thing."
The Konti's eyes lost their flippant shine, turning darker. She was preparing her own balances for Leo.

"What do you think about that idea, Leo? And while I'm prying how do you really feel about your sin, or the fact that I now know it?"