Come... be mine... /OPEN/

[Centari]

Centari nodded at his words with a light smile and proceeded to explore this new place. She had to admit, the garden was beautiful, but it was living. Living things would wrinkle with time and become frozen with cold. The most beautiful places were the ones that never changed. Mura, the Spires, Black Rock, Kalinor... They never changed.

She remembered some of her life from before the Valterrian. A smattering of scenes from the most important parts. She had spent time in the Spires between Harvests, taking a decade-long break to live among the Jamoura in their quiet, peaceful city. She had learned reflection, and had unlocked the gate of memories to ponder what her lives were. As she had been removed by Syna before the tear opened in her realm, she had no knowledge of life immediately after the Valterrian. Her memories predated it except for the ones she had created now, as she lived here.

"I lived in the area of Falyndar when I was alive before the Valterrian." She told Seidaku. "The Jamoura have helped me remember pieces from other lives as well, but the one I had as a Symenestra is much more recent, and therefore stronger. Kalinor didn't exist back then." Her eyes gleamed at her memories. Even as a Symenestra over five hundred years ago she was dark and cruel. Her memories had tormented her, though, and had increased her passion for inflicting pain and misery. "Many things have changed between that life and this one."

Her tone became quiet, much more reclusive and soft. What could she give him? There were so few things that she could explain that her Symenestra life was privy to that he wouldn't find monstrous. "Some things, Seidaku, even you would find terrible and monstrous... I can't tell you everything." Even as she said it, her eyes gleamed mischievously.

[Seidaku]

She was silent for long enough that Seidaku thought that perhaps no answer was forthcoming. Even with an insulating buffer of time, the destruction of everything you had ever known had to be horrifying and saddening. He was unsure whether he should leave her to her introspection or try to change the topic.

She finally responded though, and took the responsibility of choice from him. She had lived in Pre-Valterrian Falyndar. He recalled a map he had seen once, faded almost to illegibility with the passage of time, and overlaid that with what he knew of the current layout of Mizahar. She would have been Suvanese, then. And from an entirely different city than the one her people inbabited now. She had returned to a world that was so radically different than the one she had left... How did one reconcile that? Cities, nations, even major landmarks like oceans and mountains, just gone. Remade or worse, unmade entirely. It was... humbling to even try to imagine.

He blinked in surprise at the turn in the conversation. Terrible and monstrous things? He had read somewhere that Symenestra were one of the many races that included humanity in their dietary fare, but he would hardly call that monstrous. Certainly, as a human, he felt a certain sense of trepidation about the fact, but looked at logically, it was little different than him consuming the flesh of a sheep or a cow, at least in their eyes.

"Oh, umm, okay," he said with a small shrug of his shoulders, "I am just, ah, thankful that you are willing to, umm, to share at all."

[Brekni]

It had been a long journey to no designated destination. Although he had no clue where he was, he had a feeling he was close to civilization. Brekni didn't like people but, he did like noise. Noise comforted Brekni and gave him the sense of not being alone, he hated the feeling of being alone. Being alone made him feel weaker than his surroundings, witch could tempt him to go back to where he knew people were. Brekni began to adventure farther, not knowing where to go. He had some sense of where he was going though as a man told him that once he sees the fake people he is close.

[Centari]

Centari smiled mischievously again, and her citrine eyes glimmered with amusement. "Haven't you heard of the Harvest, Seidaku?" She purred in a honey sweet voice. "Symenestra are hated and despised for their Harvest. Back then, there was no need to go on Harvests. Symenestra were both weaker and stronger, but they still liked to hunt, me included."

She picked another flower and looked at it. Lavender petals bordering on violet at the tips and creamy lilac near the center made the flower look beautiful. Assuming the nature of Alvadas, the flower might not even be a flower.

"Tell me about yourself, too, Seidaku. I'll try and remember as much as I can, even if it might be from my years on Mizahar, if you wish to speak to me of your past as well. I acknowledge your privacy if you don't want to share with me.. I am a stranger, after all, aren't I?" Her tone dipped towards sadness. She didn't face him, but gazed at the little flower. She didn't want him to see her expression. She didn't want to frighten this man away unless she was done with him. "Come, come. Relax with me. I don't bite." She looked at him now, her eyes showing hints of sadness and loneliness, a balance between them both achieved since she didn't wish to look 'needy'. Over a century of playing games had made her somewhat self-taught in the ways of tricking men, even if she could only reel them in with sweet words and djed.

[Seidaku]

The Harvest? He heard the emphasis that she put on the word. It was obviously important, and it sounded like something that he should recognize, tickling at his memory but remaining just out of reach. However, it was apparently a reason for why they were held in such low esteem by members of other races. Swiftly, he pored through the accumulated facts and doubtless half-truths that he had heard of the Symenestra.

Schemers. Manipulators. Murderers. Cannibals, though he supposed that eaters of human flesh would be the more accurate term. Hunters. The last point was what brought the term into focus for him. The Harvest. Where Symenestra hunters left their subterranean homes and stole away men and women, never to be seen again. And yet, despite their never having been seen again, rumors and tales multiplied like weeds of horrors beyond imagining. And, from Centari's statements, there was more than a little truth to those rumors. He was acutely aware of the absence of any sort of exit to the Garden. Had he allowed himself to be lured away from the press of people as part of some elaborate hunt? But why, if this was the case, would she continue to speak with him?

When he heard her voice soften with sadness though, he knew why. Simple human companionship. Here, surrounded by people, she was lonely. During the day, she possessed an unearthly, daunting beauty. One that was more terrifying than attractive. He had almost lost the conviction to speak to her just because the majesty of her appearance made him feel... unworthy was probably the best word. And then, at night, with the setting of the sun she became what many would call a monster. A huntress, venomous and deadly, pursuing plots and wickedness, at least in the eyes of others, no matter what her true aim. And if society branded her a monster, why not revel in what she no doubt was. But beneath that, loneliness, isolation, the pain of something beautiful lost.

He broke of that train of thought, clearing his throat and looking down at the flower he still clutched in his fingers, "There is, ah, not much to tell, really. I have never left Alvadas. Never, umm, seen the world, except through books. I'm not really very, ah, interesting..."

[Centari]

Her slanted eyes watched his, the thoughts flowing under the surface of his gaze. The thoughts in her mind always came through in a language she couldn't replicate vocally. It was a painful thing to have to give up the name your Goddess gave you because the nature of Mizahar was too raw to allow the graceful Celestial language to be murmured. It still stirred in the mind, though, with memories of vaulted buildings that were both finite and unending and a population of ethereal beings far lovelier than any Ethaefal on the surface on this world. Centari would have given anything to be able to force her memory on this poor little human just to escape back into the Ukalas to forget it all. She wouldn't have to explain the Harvest to him, just so he understood, even if he wasn't in direct danger.

Of course, there was always possibility of finding an Animator, putting Seidaku's soul in a woman's body, and selling him to Kalinor anyway. Win, win, win, lose situation. Win for her, win for the animator, win for Kalinor, but a very sad, very unfortunate, lose for the formerly male human. A smile almost escaped her, but she stuffed it all away to contemplate later. She didn't know an Animator. Yet.

"I have to admit, to a Symenestra you wouldn't be as interesting as a girl with the same past. Females are important. Very important in Kalinor." Her eyes gleamed before dimming slightly. "Symenestra don't have mothers, see. Or they did, but as I said, the Symenestra became both weaker and stronger since I lived. Thus the Harvest." She smiled at him. "Now, unlike my mortal seeming's kin, I do find you interesting. If you've never seen the world but in a book, then why not explore? The safe areas of course. Kalinor is safe if you have a Symenestra guide and all, but as far as I can tell they guard their Webs jealously to protect their Harvest. The surrogates are beloved to them." Stretching the truth, but there was really no reason to tell him what a surrogate was or how she was treated. Her life was forfeit as soon as she was mated and impregnated.

She then smiled at him and lifted a strand of her hair to start knotting the violet into it. "If you ever wish to travel, I will go with you. Lhavit would be a lovely place. Under the starlight an Ethaefal has no hope to compete with the majesty of Alvina Zintila's glass city. Indeed, that is the one place we feel the most at home. It is the closest to our patron's realms. I recommend you go there, even if not with me." She looked at him and smiled again.

[Seidaku]

Seidaku blinked in confusion at her answer. Why would the Symenestra be more interested in him if he were female? And the answer had something to do with the Harvest, and the fact that Symenestra apparently reproduced differently than humans. Unless the statement regarding the last of mothers was meant figuratively, of course. Perhaps a communal society, with young raised by the entire community? Based upon her tone, he doubted it was anything so benign.

Though, even without a full understanding of what Centari meant, her answer, paired with her previous statements, painted a picture showing that perhaps the Symenestra were right to be feared, or at least treated with caution. Certainly, it was nothing but differences in social mores brought about by biological and environmental necessity just as in any culture, but he could be honest enough with himself to be nervous even if he was not morally outraged at the differences.

Her question though, brought him crashing back to the moment, "Travel? Me?," he asked, his voice emerging an octave higher in pitch from surprise. He coughed nervously to clear his throat. The thought had crossed his mind, certainly. Travel the world, perhaps to the University at Zeltiva. The thought had crossed his mind, most recently at Wrenmae's, his student and friend's, departure from Alvadas to Syliras, and from there to parts unknown. As much as the thought filled him with a nervous excitement though, "But, traveling from city to city is, ah, quite dangerous in and, umm, of itself," he said, breaking away from her gaze.

It was humiliating to admit, but the thought of the dangers of the world outside the gates of a city filled him with clammy fright. The cities themselves might be safe enough places, but he had heard enough stories from travelers in the BIzarre to know that the world at large was a staggeringly dangerous place.

"Lhavit does sound, umm, beautiful, though," he added, quietly, "Perhaps worth the risk... someday"

[Centari]

The understanding was there, fluttering as daintily as a butterfly behind those crushable eyes. Was he realizing the truth of Symenestra? Of her own hidden agenda? She had him isolated, alone, in her metaphorical web. She had stalled in killing him, though. Her Lash remained wound at her hip in a nice coil, not around his fleshy neck, throttling the life past his lips with a dying gurgle of fear.

The squeak of his voice, a simple reaction to the fear of uncertainty, brought a little smile to her lips and a gentle laugh to lap at his senses. Not a mocking sound. She didn't want to mock him. She couldn't risk offending him. He was such a timid mouse.

"Yes, travel. I do it, if you must know. I come from Lhavit." She smiled slightly, dimming her smile then to a look of ennui. "Ah, for being so dangerous, so many people do it. If it helps, though, it is best to travel in a group. A small trader's caravan perhaps. Protection lies in numbers. Being aware of all the nasties out there is a good help as well."

She smiled again and gestured for him to come sit with her, sadness fluctuating with joy in the light of Syna. "Come, Seidaku. Ask anything. I understand you like to learn. I'll tell you what you want to hear." Slowly the tendrils of djed stroked the fire into her citrine eyes, soothing and reassuring his aura, bringing calm into him should he be made wary by mere words. The djed whispered for him to obey, to sit with her. To spend his time on her and her whims. She'd love it if he obeyed the call.

[Seidaku]

"That, umm, makes sense," Seidaku said, with a small smile of his own, "All the, ah, merchants travel together when they leave. Safety in numbers... like, umm, like you said."

There was a moment of trepidation when she gestured to the grass beside her. There was still the possibility that all of this was an elaborate game of cat and mouse. And if that were the case, he had little doubt as to which of the two roles he would play in her eyes.

Still, he thought, meeting eyes the color of a summer sunset, If she had intended me any harm, she has had plenty of oportunity to do so before now. Besides, I am in no greater danger sitting beside her than standing beside her... and she has done nothing to make me think, beyond my own paranoia, that she poses any danger at all.

Still holding the flower, whose petals now mirrored Centari's eyes, a gem-like orange hue, Seidaku sank to the ground beside her, legs crossed and lean forward intently. She had told him to ask, offered to tell him about herself, to share her knowledge. That fact alone was enough to win out against whatever threat of danger she might pose. There was still a flicker of trepidation, but it could not hope to compete with his curiosity.

There was one question he wanted to know the answer to above all others. But, even with her promise, he was still hesitant to voice it, afraid of poking at a wound that had not had time to heal. Looking into her eyes again though, he saw that she wanted him to ask, felt that she wanted to share of herself and her knowledge.

His voice more than a little breathless with anticipation, he asked, "What is the afterlife like?"