[The Bharani Library] Paper Cuts

[Elhaym]

Location NoticeI have obtained permission from Legion to utilize this location for a thread.

The 82nd Day of Spring, in the 512th year after the Valterrian

"It was written by Queen Avakalashi, who I am sure you're familiar wi-… no? Tst!"

The blank look on Elhaym's face was enough to drive the Seeker into a fit of irritation, it seemed. Queen Avaktosonuni or whoever she was didn't matter, only what she had written. Her recent meeting with a hypnotist had her questioning what she actually knew about magic and djed; what she thought was completely impossible had been shown to her with alarming nonchalance. It sparked a realization that she used terms like djed and overgiving without the faintest idea of what they truly meant. She knew nothing about magic, and yet it coursed within her alongside her blood.

A book on magic seemed a good start, but this old fellow had let out the most exasperated sigh when she had asked (as if that was really such an inane question). Finally she had settled on asking him for the most well-known book on magic, to which he had shuffled off and returned with a new looking copy of a book called the Treval Codex. He almost seemed insulted to hand it to her, but the scholarly side of him must have taken over as he allowed the book into her arms. She was ignorant, but at least she was willing to learn.

"Thank you for finding this for me." she called out to him as he waddled back to whence he came, leaving her alone at a small desk within the Bharani Library with nothing but time and freshly inked pages to keep her company. After flipping through and finding a random section to start in (starting at the beginning was just far too depressing), she settled into her seat and began to read. The material was rather dry, but it was very inclusive in regards to the concept of overgiving. Her lone eye continued to soak in the words, reminded of a time in Syliras when she had read a similar book on the concepts of the Flux. The idea of overgiving had scared her so badly then that she had given the book away that same day. The Flux and her were not strangers anymore, and neither was the concept of overgiving. Still, the way the text described the rationalization of why magic caused such strain on the body, mind, and soul was thorough.

After only a few moments she had to pause and rest her vision. The print was small, and with only one eye it was more difficult to read than she remembered. Best not to think about it too much; that particular handicap had caused more frustration than she would ever admit lest she spiral into another bout of intense sadness. She had just gotten into the meat of the concepts of overgiving, so now seemed as good as time as any for a break. It was then that the voices broke through to her. Two of them, mismatched in every quality and both rising in tone. Elhaym rose immediately, the instinct of being a guardsman finally settling into her bones after more than a year.

In a few short seconds she was striding up to the entrance, though her guardsman's instincts were not accompanied by a guardsman's attire today. She wore a long black coat made of silk and dyed black, buttoned to her neck reaching all the way down to her feet. Her black pants and sandals were thus almost hidden. As per usual, her left eye was covered by a black band of cloth that canted over her hollow socket and disappeared into a mass of hair.

She was already speaking when she recognized him. Him, who was essentially the reason she had come here in the first place, though she hadn't expected to actually see him here.

"What's going on here… Laszlo?"

[Laszlo]

"Gods…" Laszlo came to a stop in the middle of the long, narrow bridge to Tenten Peak, realizing that it was coming alive with color beneath his feet. His Matron Goddess was ending another day with a brilliant crimson fanfare, staining the sky blood red and lighting the clouds in a blaze of orange. Syna's light snaked through the rocky fingers of the Mysty Peaks, combing through the low lying clouds that pushed against Lhavit. The shadows that hid from her grew long, dark, and dramatic. And the skyglass of the city… it seemed to be singing. Refracting the sunset, it created a marvelous array of color so rich and exciting that the different hues seemed to battle each othe. The Akarni's craft achieved a level of shimmering, vibrant beauty that Laszlo couldn't have possibly imagined existed if he wasn't seeing it for himself. Even the bridge underneath him glittered more brightly than any precious stone. A foggy strip of light in the distance was another bridge like this one, Laszlo guessed. Suspended high above the misty gorges of the Unforgiving, between two enormous peaks, he remembered how tiny he was in this vast and engulfing world. And Lhavitians saw this every day. A stiff, pre-Summer wind billowed into his jacket, urging him to get onto true land again. Filled with an instinctive apprehension, he obeyed and continued onward. He couldn't resist, however, gazing back over his shoulder at the Zintia Peak and it's towering architecture. The city was just aglow. How did he not come here sooner? Up ahead, a large, glittering structure loomed over the rest of the towers and spires of Tenten Peak. Laszlo recalled a description he'd read in the Cribellum, describing the Bharani Library as the "first thing one notices upon approaching Tenten Peak". The Symenestra who'd written of it had sounded severe and annoyed, but to him the city was glaringly bright and garish. As it was still technically daylight, Laszlo could happily enjoy the sights with his average, human-like eyesight. For the walk home, he anticipated headaches from the light pollution. Laszlo was courteously greeted and accosted with gentle smiles and respectful nods as he made his way through the lower tiers of Tenten, noting the tendency for Lhavitians to wear the colors white, yellow and orange in this part of the city. It must have symbolized sunlight, which he appreciated. In the flaming hues of the setting sun, they all fit in with the surroundings as if they belonged in a lavish painting.The only cool hues belonged to the growing shadows of the coming night. Before long, the entrance of the Bharani Library loomed before him, a structure that was beautiful in an almost exhausting degree. There was simply too much stimulation for his eyes. He almost felt like he needed a moment to rest from it all. Clutching his leatherbound parchments to his side, Laszlo pushed past the large main doors and entered the library's shadowy maw. It was darker inside, though not by much. Skyglass had the quality of being translucent, and while there were grand windows one every level of the multi-storied building, even the walls themselves gave off a deep glow. The many balconies that hugged at the walls rose dizzyingly high, making the library so spacious and enormous that Laszlo feared breathing too hard would cause a deafening echo. "Hi, I…" There was a desk, and someone behind it who looked official. Laszlo knew of the library's rules, granting access in exchange for a contribution. Best he offer his donation before someone made demands of him. A stack of parchment, bound in twine and goat leather, was carefully laid upon the desk. Laszlo gave his work a careful look, a little reluctant to just give away what he'd spent day after day putting together. Perhaps there was a chance the Seekers would be lenient, given that Laszlo was an Ethaefal. He wasn't going to get his hopes up. "I have a contribution. A… compendium of my experiences traveling through the Unforgiving." An old, gnarled hand slid the tome across the desk, nudging open the front cover. The man in front of him, wearing a face creased with age, never bothered to look up. He simply paid attention to what was exactly in front of him. "'Grind It All to Dust: Why I'll Never Return to the Unforgiving'. Droll, but a bit uncreative. This is something you wrote?" "Yes. It was all I could think of to write about. I've been traveling for all of Spring and part of Winter. I swear, I'll never get all the gravel out of my boots." "Hm… You know, I'd say that most Lhavitians are very intimate with the Unforgiving, as are many of the visitors we get here in the city, at least the ones that don't come by sea. Is there anything in here the average person wouldn't know?" Laszlo's heart sank, then grew cold and bitter. "I spent the last week putting that together. There's got to be something in there someone would find useful." He paused, then added, "I'm an Ethaefal, you know." "Yes, I can see that. And, you know, it's just that the library already has so many tomes on traveling the Unforgiving. We live right in the thick of the mountains. There are many other things you could write about, as an Ethaefal, that we would find useful." "This is useful. I was carting a pregnant woman and a laughable gaggle of mercenaries—" "It's been done." His oaken fingers began sifting through the crinkling pages. "I've done it maybe twice myself." "Now see here—" A throaty, feminine voice cut in, then. Laszlo turned to see the woman he recognized as Elhaym, who had suddenly appeared in the library's entrance. Strange, that he hadn't seen her approach. What was she doing here anyway? It seemed like that Acolyte was everywhere. Was she following him? Eh, probably. "Hello, Elhaym. He's trying to tell me that this volume, which I've spent a week's worth of time on, isn't good enough for the library. It's about my travels through the Unforgiving. Evidently that isn't useful to anyone in Lhavit. This is ridiculous."

[Elhaym]

It was apparent Laszlo was irritated. Even under her imposed duress, how voice had always been as smooth as silk and as pleasant as the most subtle perfume, but now it carried undertones of pure aggravation. She knew why he needed into the library, and thus the source of his anger… it was almost troubling to see him reduced to that, but refreshing at the same time. He had not lied. Perhaps he had as little self control as she did when life threw a curve into a perfect trajectory that had once led to happiness.

"Oh?" She said sweetly, her body sweeping forward to the desk where the Seeker had laid Laszlo's tome. She raised her eyebrow at the attendant as if to ask permission, but it was only a formality. With a quick motion she flipped the book into her hand and cracked it open. The strain on her eye had lessened, and Laszlo's script was much easier to read than the compact and dense typography she had already grown accustomed to from the Treval Codex. She made them both wait a chime as she flipped through the pages, seeming to absorb his words and letting out a hmmm! or a nonchalant oooo... every now and again.

In truth she had found what she was looking for relatively short order, but she needed time to plan what she would say. Many things could be said for Elhaym Vormav, but an effective public speaker was not one of them. Her eye took in the information of the pages and the gleam of skyglass in her peripheral vision, but her mind stoked the fire that was her focus. As her sense of calm began to grow, so too did her plan formulate.

Elhaym shrugged, and placed the book back on the Seeker's table.

"True enough, it's an account of the Unforgiven's peril. Still, the length of time you traveled seemed long even for a slow journey. Maybe it was…"

Elhaym placed a thoughtful finger on the corner of her lip, rolling her eye upwards and tilting her head back as if she was contemplating something.

"You must have been in the Unforgiven during the beginning of Spring, when the storms of magic swept through Lhavit. Is that so?"

His reply was a jumble of words in her head. She was already spinning back towards the desk to place a finger onto its cover, rapidly tapping its surface as if demanding the Seeker pay attention.

"This is a first hand account of the day the djed storms came, and not only that, but in an area away from the city. A record like this… does even this library have such a thing?"

She smiled as the change in the Seeker's face took place, and he reached out to grasp the book protectively. "I am ashamed to say I did not even consider this… such a thing is priceless. We've only heard spoken accounts, and they were less than credible."

"Of course, from drunken traders trying to make themselves sound brave and impress the people into letting them cart off their wares for sale in foreign cities. Who better to protect your goods than the valorous trader who braved the storm of djed? All lies and exaggerations. But this, this is written from the hand of an Ethaefal. No more trustworthy an author you will find, I think."

She gave the book a final tap, amused that now the Seeker seemed to pull the tome away from her by reflex. Turning to face Laszlo (and paying attention to him truly for perhaps the first time), she tilted her head and took his heavenly face. Was that relief? Well, perhaps he was surprised. She had brutalized him twice previously and forced him to give her information with a bribe that was only offered for the benefit of her own supposed honor. She supposed he probably wouldn't expect her to go out of her way for him, and perhaps she wouldn't have… if she didn't know the reason he needed this library. Allowing him to leave with his efforts in creating a document to get in fruitless may well have been a death sentence to the woman, Abalia.

The people were her children; she grew upset at them at times, and sometimes she punished them. Yet when it came down it, Laszlo was under her protection in the city, as well as his Abalia. A Shinya did not protect only with his body, but also his mind. Elhaym felt proud in that moment to have finally accomplished something with her wit, rather than her fists. There was plenty of time to relish her victory as the Seeker began asking Laszlo for his information so that it could be recorded for future reference that he had gained admittance into these hallowed halls.

"Welcome to the Bharani Library, Laszlo."

She motioned towards the grandeur all around her, spinning a bit for dramatic effect. Honestly, she really was quite pleased with herself. The Seeker had seen fit to meander off into the offices with his new prize, leaving the two of them alone in the grand hall. Her smile slowly faded into a slightly more somber expression. She knew Laszlo had business here, and so did she. She wouldn't keep him from that.

"What you showed me the other day proved how little I know about certain… things. My mentors almost pushed me through the doors when I told them I wanted to read something once they found out I could come inside. I'm over there." She said, summing up her presence as briefly as possible and motioning with her thumb to the desk with the waiting tome still open on its surface.

"Ask one of the Seekers to bring you a text… trust me, you don't even want to bother trying to find one on your own."

Her long coat swept around her legs as she turned and retreated to her table. The single book that occupied it pathetically tried to occupy its surface, but it was futile. These desks were designed for men and women who referenced dozens of texts at a time.

[Laszlo]

"I'm trustworthy now?" Laszlo scoffed smartly, once they were out of earshot of the wizened Seeker. He lingered near her table, reluctant to ask any of the other Seekers anything while his temper was still on edge. The information he sought primarily had to do with Symenestra births and measures to save a surrogate's life. Even if it were here, Laszlo wouldn't want to ask for something like that outright. He needed to think on how to carefully word his request. Of course, he could always look himself, but even after being told that this was the largest library in the world, he hadn't considered that finding the one, perfect tome would be a feat as astounding as the antidote for Symenestra venom. "I noticed you didn't tell him that I'm consorting with Widows, or that I can control a person's mind. You could make my life hell, if you wanted, but you didn't. I find that interesting, and I'd be more grateful if I weren't certain that you were following me." Possibly a bold accusation, or a paranoid one, but Elhaym had strongly implied that she'd be keeping her eye (oh Laszlo, how cruel) on him and his party. She wasn't in uniform, which bothered him. Even when she wasn't on duty, she maintained her personal interest in Laszlo, as if he were the one and only threat to Lhavit. Did she have nothing else to occupy her time? Elhaym did say that she was different than the other Shinya. She was, after all, only an Acolyte. Perhaps it was this brazen, obsessive behavior that kept her from rising through the ranks. "Though I'm glad for your intervention. I wasn't looking forward to spending the next month writing something else." It wouldn't have turned out that way. If the older Seeker had kept going the way he was, Laszlo might have applied a bit of hypnotic persuasion, to mmake him more agreeable. In any case, he was still glad Elhaym prevented him from having to resort to such measures. Like it or not, Laszlo had signed an agreement not to abuse his magic. He wasn't sure what qualified as "abuse", but he estimated that to be "any use of hypnotism whatsoever". Finally coming up with something, Laszlo briefly stepped away to approach a younger-looking Seeker. Lightly he tapped her shoulder and offered an easy smile. "Pardon, miss. Do you have any Ethaefal biographies?" Yes, at least a dozen. "Would you mind finding a few of them for me? I'll be over at that table." She nodded, then quickly scurried off. Her footsteps were soon echoing through the hall as she climbed to one of the higher balconies. Laszlo returned to Elhaym's table. He couldn't quite explain the pull she had over him. Either he was eager to make amends between them and form a more positive alliance with her, or he was subconsciously keeping his enemies close. "Have you learned anything new, then?" Laszlo sank into a wooden chair, at a large table nearby. He leaned back and crossed both his legs and arms, patiently waiting for the Seeker to return. "If you're interested, I could always Hypnotize someone unsuspecting while you observe. You're the law, aren't you? You could call it a sanctioned Shinya experiment." This was spoken with a note of bitterness; he fully expected corruption to occur in the authorities of any place. Power over others was a seductive tool; he knew that well. "You know, I didn't learn Hypnotism to have power over others. About a year… year and a half ago…? I realized that someone I knew and trusted had been using it on me. I found the concept both terrifying and intriguing. There was a pull… I'd like to think it had something to do with my past life. It was… familiar. I did want to prevent the magic from being used on me again, but mostly I just wanted to pursue it, for nostalgia's sake. I had a similar sensation, the other day, holding that sword." Laszlo cut himself short as the attendant's pattering footsteps returned through the library. She offloaded about six tomes in front of him, said something cordial. Laszlo nodded and thanked her. Reluctantly, he pulled a book from the top of the stack, beginning to rifle through the pages. The light in the library was growing less orange, and more white—like moonlight. Soon enough, his form would change, and Elhaym would have new reasons to despise him. "Do you want to know why Abalia is sick?" he asked suddenly, without looking up from his book. The Ethaefal who had written it was mostly speaking of things half-remembered, and his first stumbling attempts at a life. Nothing about love or family, yet, though Laszlo was only scanning. "You'll find out eventually, anyway. Have you considered that it might be odd that a Symenestra doctor would specialize in her condition?" He turned a page. This one had sketches and some attempt at a self-portrait. It looked a little like a porcupine with seashells glue to its sides. "I have mentioned that I'm expecting a child. Duvalyon is estimating its birth to be about early Fall. That's how long I have to come up with a way to save Abalia." His gold eyes flickered up severely, braced for Elhaym's harsh judgment. "I didn't ask to be made into what I am. I never wanted to feel for anyone the way I feel about Abalia… It's… not fair, that it's turning out this way. It's my fault. I was careless… but… what's done is done. My only hope is that my being Ethaefal changes this, somehow. I can't be the only one of my kind who's been through this."

[Elhaym]

His biting words did their number on her brief moment of cheerfulness; she waved her hand dismissively as she sat back down and scooted her chair closer to the desk.

"Following you? I was already here. Don't think I don't know what you would've resorted to if I hadn't walked up there, Laszlo. You're welcome, by the way."

Elhaym stayed her tongue at that point and refocused her attention back on the Treval Codex. Laszlo seemed to be setting up shop at a nearby table… she wasn't sure if she should be annoyed or not, considering his earlier spiel. She had walked away fully expecting him to find the farthest nook from her he could. Her eye was slowly guiding her mind to accept the words in terms of what actually caused overgiving and the possible lasting effects it could have when he spoke up again. Was he trying to provoke her? Her right hand curled into a fist, and she slammed her tome shot and stood up abruptly. Between the two tables she paced, her planned retort being cut off as he began explaining his rationale for pursuing djed manipulation.

"Hrnh… it was not my choice to use Projection. The Order requires it, if you can believe that. Tradition and stubbornness run deep within the Shinya's blood, but there are a few who probably agree with me in that it is asinine. Well, in any case… maybe you will find a blade able to distract you from the stress of magic. I can show you, one day, if you'd like. It's very relaxing."

Her coat swept about her feet as she paced, her head lowered as she spoke. Swordplay to her was relaxing. Laszlo had no real idea in truth what she was capable of with her body, but the Shinya were not so ignorant. When she fought, even in training, they tested her to the fullest. When she taught, the students demanded answers to strategies and techniques that she had never really considered. It was exhausting. Yet with her sword, no one expected greatness from her. She was free to slowly flow through the forms, drawing and sheathing her blade and slicing through the air at her own pace.

A quiet settled between them, and Elhaym became lost in her thoughts. The images in her mind flickered back to the day of the storm, and her newly formed fear and respect for magic. Always the djed that flowed so freely from her had been a source of unease, but for the first time she had truly wondered what it would do to her one day. Now she had withdrawn from it, only to have it beckon to her when time lapsed too far. Touching Laszlo with her astral body had been a glorious release, but already her other body twitched uncomfortably. Elhaym felt the surge her in an instant, the desire to just use her magic. It was disconcerting; this had never really happened before the first of Spring. Laszlo had seen her do this once before, and it would likely not be the last time. Her maimed hand came to her face, and she touched her forehead with one finger while closing her eyes.

Laszlo's shuffling and grumbles became background noise and the ambient lights of the glowing library vied against the blackness she imposed. As her breathing slowed and her focus grew, her mind's eye sucked the color and light out of her world and replaced it with blackness. Yet the total darkness did not last long before two forms began to shuffle forward. Two of them; one was just liker her, shadowy and ethereal and yet without her maimed hand or missing eye. The other was even harder to discern, but it may have been her as well. The shadows stood in front of her as if impeded by something. It took her a moment to realize that thick black bars separated them from her formless point of view; they stretched endlessly both up and down and were close enough together that the two shadows could not pass through. They simply stood there with their feet touching nothing as if the fact that the bars continued downwards was irrelevant.

He is so smug. You could crush him an instant, but he thinks his parlor tricks give him some modicum of control over you. You are Shinya; remind him. Show him your projection, make him remember. Insults to the Order cannot be tolerated.

Her control flickered for a moment, and the bars seemed to bend. The sounds of the outside world grew louder for a mere second, and her meditative state was almost lost. Her heart beat quickened. The shade had spoken. Of course, this was just her way of beating down her urges… those were her own thoughts. He is upset, and scared for his woman. I mistreated him in the past, I can ignore a few snide remarks. I am an Acolyte; I can't just roam around brutalizing people in public because they are angry with me. Her answer was resounding in the blackness, and the two forms shuddered as if they had been struck. The bars straightened, and now another set of bars began to fly from both directions and create a criss crossed pattern of black steel. The shade's prison grew stronger.

For now, then… but you cannot ignore us forever, Elhaym.

The shade that spoke, the one that looked like an imagined astral body began to float away. The other threaded it's arms through the bars and leaned forward to leer at her. It was her, a battle worn version of her marred with blood and bruises. It spat into the nothingness, and then it too turned to leave. The sound of reality began crashing all around her, obliterating the blackness. Elhaym blinked multiple times and shook her head; the urge was gone, but that had been to strange. Laszlo had said something and she had missed it, so she turned.

"What'd you say?"

"I said, do you want to know why Abalia is sick?"

"Well, I assumed it was a withering sickness, like a fever, or…"

But the next words he spoke rattled her. Already on edge from the vastly strange experience she had just had, the idea that her Symenestran doctor's race had been chosen for a reason thrust a chill upon her that ran down her spine. Had he impregnated Laszlo's woman somehow, and now fought to save his friend's lover? That seemed a fairly promiscuous scenario for someone like Laszlo, but then…

He spoke, and his eyes seemed resigned to judgement. His voice was so sullen that it almost pained her, but the realization was harsh enough to draw the chill that had settled in her stomach out from her fingertips to her toes. The Ethaefal had two forms; one divine, and one…

"… Laszlo, what do you become when night falls?"

[Laszlo]

It was confirmation she wanted. Laszlo looked away, irked. She was asking him to condemn himself by verifying her suspicions. It was evident by the look on Elhaym's face that she had already put it together, but she seemed to be a creature of passions that railed against logic. She wanted things to be as she decided—a stranger who mingled with Symenestra was a threat, a magic that could mold one's mind was heinous, the spiritual son of a goddess was unfailingly immaculate and beautiful. For her to believe otherwise, she needed proof. Perhaps Elhaym's personal reality wasn't a sheltered one, but she might have wanted to protect what she knew, knowledge that she trusted. Honestly, he couldn't blame her. She had seen a young girl become savage and murderous. What rational person wouldn't want to believe that a young girl could just be a young girl? Moments like these, Laszlo remembered that he wasn't mortal. Only two and a half years old, and he already knew better than this. He had moments of naivety, unsurety, clumsiness, and made dire mistakes, but sometimes he was wise. It never seemed to help him any, nor anyone else. Laszlo's fingertip rested on the edge of a page, ready to flip it aside. His mind clearly wasn't on the content. Duvalyon should be doing this research, not him. "Symenestra, Elhaym," he finally replied, resigning with a sigh. "I'm a Widow after the sun sets." He finally turned the page, skimming the neat, compact script scrawled on this side. Favorite foods? Preferred Lhavitian restaurants? Did someone really think something like that was notable enough to write down? Filler, he realized. It was a thick book, written by an Ethaefal who had promised the Library a biography. If it was short, someone would have been disappointed. Mine certainly wouldn't go on for more than a few pages. "That bothers you, doesn't it?" Nothing in this book was useful. Finally he clapped it shut and plucked another from his small stack. At that moment, the young Seeker from earlier came walking from across the hard, glossy floor, dropping off another armful of books at Laszlo's table. He thanked her again, though wore a bewildered and almost defeated expression as he did so. "Damn it," he swore after she left. "Duvalyon should be here looking through all this. I swear he just sent me here to be rid of me." Eyes of molten amber rolled toward Elhaym in a good-natured glance. "He's a difficult man to please. Easy to annoy," he explained for her benefit. "I still can't believe he came all the way out here for me." With another, long exhale, Laszlo returned to the more pressing topic. He opened this second book but didn't read anything in it. The script was wild and scrawling. It would take concentration. There was something that looked like a stick-figure dancing with a chair that could have been a "the". "You wouldn't be the first. It even disturbed me at first, when I was newly made. Then, I didn't really understand what it was I became at night. This… venomous monster with black claws." Closed the book, picked up another. "I've come to terms with it by now. Sometimes I think Abalia prefers that side of me, though maybe not anymore. You can hate me now, if you wish, but I'd hate to see this mar our beautiful friendship."

[Elhaym]

His reply placed a period on the statement that lingered in her mind. Elhaym repressed her initial revulsion, and began to pace back and forth again after he spoke. The quick movements helped her keep her mind from dwelling on his other half. Once she pondered it for a moment, it began to make sense. He associated heavily with the Symenestra, both here and Lhavit and elsewhere as evidenced by speaking about the Dra, Seven (clearly a confused individual, because no normal person would name themselves after a number). He chimed in again, asking if it bothered her. Well, she supposed it did. Before Lhavit, she had not cared whether someone was a Symenestra or a Konti; she had been distant in Syliras, living only for herself and ignoring almost everyone. Life had been simpler then… she missed that.

When Laszlo seemed to slip into a more morose tone regarding his fellow traveler Duvalyon, Elhaym fought the urge to continue her anxious pacing and slid carefully into the seat across from him. There she pressed her elbows against the table, and steepled her fingers together. It looked a bit odd with her right hand's pinky and ringer finger hanging there, with the stubs of her left hand wiggling uselessly as if they could grow and touch their brothers.

"Laszlo, I don't hate you," she said with a sigh nearly identical to his own. Those thoughts of simpler times had wiggled their way into her mind, combining with his admittance of being a Symenestra to provide a welcome distraction from the oddities she had just experienced within her meditative state. "You sullen little shit, how many times do I have to apologize to you for the way I acted before you accept it?"

With a grunt she leaned back into her chair and slung one elbow over the back, folding her legs as she did so and taking a relaxed posture. "I don't blame you for thinking that really, all things considering, but I wish you could understand what I… feel like. Laszlo, I owe this city a great debt. I've been trying to pay it, and I was grasping at straws when I confronted you about Duvalyon. I just wanted to do something, so I was looking for a threat. I found you instead."

"So you're a Symenestra. I won't pretend to love them, and I've heard heinous things that they have done to put a woman on her back in Kalinor, pregnant with a seething little monster." She paused, shaking her head to clear her mind. That last bit hadn't really sounded reassuring at all, though that's what she had been going for. An old habit suddenly ushered its way back into her life as her right hand drifted to her mouth, and she began to gnaw on her thumbnail. After a moment, she continued.

"In any case, the fault isn't yours alone. Even I know not to lay with a Symenestra, and I wouldn't give two shits if he was only half of one or not. Besides, you brought her here. You're trying to save her, not usher her off to some hole in the ground to die in childbirth. That much at least proves you're not worthy of my hate."

Her thumb withdrew from her mouth as she had realized the clicking sound of enemal and nail was probably a bit obnoxious. Her left arm sprawled across the table as her other resumed it's position draped over the back of the chair. "You're a lot of things Laszlo… you could be dangerous. Still, I don't think you are, or don't mean to be anyway. Maybe you're just complicated… like everyone else."

She let a silence linger for a moment, trying to decide if she really believed that. From the moment she opened her mouth the first time she had tried to approach this like a Shinya should; unbiased and calm. He was a spider, and that much she knew she didn't like. Still, he could control that no more than she could control being a human, so was that truly a fault? It was only a fault if he did the things that made them heinous, and his actions proved that his goals did not necessarily fall in line with theirs. Otherwise Abalia would be in Kalinor, and surely that would have been easier to get to than Lhavit. Besides, if anywhere had knowledge on how a woman could survive the birth of a Symenestra child, it would be there.

"I suppose I'll be seeing that part of you soon enough, anyway,"she said suddenly. The sunlight was fading and the beams of light it cast throughout the library were slowly dimming, overtaken by the more concentrated light of skyglass sconces. "If you're frustrated with the books, then lets go outside. They will be here when you get back, you know. You can come in here anytime you want now. I don't think I'm gonna get much reading done between you and the sh-," she started to say it, but cut herself off. Whatever voices or things she was seeing was all just her imagination anyhow, and would only serve to make her look strange. "Well, I don't feel like reading anything anymore. I still have two bells before I have to report back to the Pavilion."

She stood to leave as she spoke, as if anxious to get moving and let her near slip be forgotten.

[Laszlo]

For the moment, Laszlo gave up on his search for Abalia's cure. In a gesture of surrender, he prodded the stiff leather sleeve of the tome in front of him, lifting it for only a brief moment before it lighted back down again. Trying to split himself in two ways, between Abalia's mortality and Elhaym's somehow significant opinion of him (which was merely a grain of the social acceptance he was truly concerned with), was only leaving him confused and exhausted. These were not issues he could face at the same time. Each required a wholly different frame of mind. Despite Laszlo's calm exterior, in his own mind he felt as though he were standing in quicksand. Cold, hungry earth clawed at his shins and threatened to pull him into darkness, but the Ethaefal could not afford to lose himself to anguish and dread. Remaining still and resolute meant that he would sink slower. The day of reckoning was still impending, but with the delay of his inevitable despair Laszlo could continue to function in other, simpler ways. Holding a conversation was easy, but he knew that he was still fragile and, beneath the surface, terrified. Laszlo was much more delicate and ready to fracture than he looked. He closed his mouth to exhale a slow, practiced breath. The weight of his body shifted to his left and he turned in his seat, facing the Acolyte properly. The soft, leatherbound book became a comfortable resting spot for his elbow, and Laszlo placed his temple on the backs of his fingers. The sleek, glassy surface of his horn was warm against his cold hand. She had his full attention now. Elhaym spoke on in a voice flanged with exasperation and guilt, emotions that Laszlo was relieved to see someone else could feel. She, like he and everyone else, had her own problems. Conducting herself civilly was evidently one, but she was trying to behave and even succeeding to some amount. Laszlo felt like an experiment to her; elements of his identity clashed with her perception of the world, presenting her with the challenge of practicing tolerance. It was her responsibility as a Lhavitian and a Shinya to act honorably. Laszlo watched the gears turning behind her eyes, listening to her reasons, but observing more the struggle that existed in her. Though he had no interest in analyzing her personality or learning her wants and needs, it was the pastime of a Hypnotist to watch people, to understand the subtle nuances that gave away their inner workings. Or perhaps it was because he was young and new to the world and, unlike his Symenestra companion, had much to learn from other people. It might have been for both of these reasons or neither of them that he intently listened. Her invitation to leave was surprisingly welcome, and it was only then that a visible reaction could be observed in Laszlo. Ever so slightly, he leaned backward. Relief spread across his face like rippling water. His knuckles were blanched white, than flushed red as he drew them away from his temple. For his own sake, he feigned hesitation and looked down to give his stack of reading a tired and subtly disdainful twiceover. When Laszlo opened his mouth, he found his heart in his throat. He swallowed it dutifully. "Okay," he said simply, rising like a wisp of hair beckoned by a light breeze. The empty chair he left behind was pushed back into the table politely, but he left the books behind for the Seekers to tend to. It was a shame that they would have to clean up after him after they only just brought the tomes out moments ago, but Laszlo didn't couldn't seem to spare his remorse. He felt guiltier for not feeling guilty. "Perhaps it'll be easier tomorrow morning," Laszlo mused, perhaps more at himself, but he spoke as if he wanted another person to hear. It was interesting, how badly he needed other people around him now, when a year ago he would have been loath to call anyone his friend. "I prefer being outside, anyway. The skyglass is nice but the air is stifling. I'm sick of caves." It had been a good long time now since had been in any caves for any period of time, but the tavern in Alvadas had been something of a cave to him as well, trapping him away from the sunlight and shrouding him in stale darkness. After surviving in Kalinor without sunlight as long as he did, the concept of 'indoors' was still reminiscent of Semele's black haven. The skyglass amended that a little with its translucence, but it would take Laszlo awhile to get accustomed to the niceties and rhythm of Lhavitian life. Laszlo led the way to the exit, rather than walking in a tandem pace next to Elhaym. They were not friends, despite her repeated apologies, and he would not pretend to be fond of her. Her earnestness, however, made her difficult to dislike, and Laszlo was wanting for personal allies. The air was warming between them, and perhaps sooner rather than later, he could reconsider his opinion of her. The last drops of Syna's luminance became swallowed by the Misty Peaks as soon as they both stepped outside. A gentle chill pervaded the air as quickly as the shadows of dusk. Laszlo anticipated his change with the same tension of suspense as one expecting to hiccup. Laszlo observed it happening in windows first, at least five or six nearby, and saw twinkling flashes of light like blinking stars occurring on the Zintia Peak in the nearby distance. There were many other Ethaefal in his city, and all of their transformations occurred at the same time, which for some reason he hadn't expected. His own phase shift began before he noticed it, the bright light beginning first at the tips of his horns and then rapidly descending over and engulfing the rest of his body. Though mildly blinding, anyone watching would notice that it was slightly golden, like a sharp flash of sunlight glancing off of a jewel's cut facet. As it was still happening, Laszlo lifted his glowing hand and watched it with a lack of curiosity. It was barely more than breathing to him, but he rarely had an audience that wasn't Abalia. His keen Symenestra vision was gifted to him all at once, illuminating the dark world and blinding him with his flesh's own radiance. He cringed and grunted audibly, shutting his eyes in disorientation. The light was gone when he opened them again. The thin, willowy Symenestra turned to Elhaym, regarding her now with gemlike, violet eyes. He thought of performing some sarcastic fanfare for himself, like striking a pose or waving his hands at himself as if he were some fantastic and expensive artifact. If he were in his dayside form, and in a better mood, he might have done it. "Behold in all my glory," he muttered instead, feeling bashful and choosing Symenos to make it a private joke When he spoke Common again, Elhaym might notice that his voice was an octave higher. He was truly a physically different being. "The Shinyama Pavilion?" he asked, prodding at the word that had stuck in his mind. Of course Elhaym referred to the Shinyama Pavilion (how many pavilions could one city have?), but it had finally clicked why that word stuck out to him. Duvalyon worked there. He wondered if she was aware of this yet. Reaching behind his head, Laszlo unfastened his hair tie and let his dark, graphite locks drape around his face. His hair was thinner in this form and was not nearly as agreeable as his long, divine curls. A ponytail wasn't as flattering in his Symenestra state. Laszlo proceeded the wrap the ribbon around his fingers instead of pocketing it.

[Elhaym]

Elhaym busied herself, examining the nails of her good hand as she trailed Laszlo out the door. A faint wave was directed towards the Seeker milling around the grand entrance, indicating their departure. No doubt in only a moment the books they had strewn about would be neatly cataloged away and any proof of their presence their that day eradicated. As she breached the threshold of the Library and took in the night air, she immediately felt better for it.

More interesting was Laszlo's transformation. Elhaym positioned herself against the wall of the massive building, the thicker and more opaque skyglass forming it bordered by thinner glass of Zintila's creation depicting scenes of true beauty in a multitude of colors. She had never actually witnessed a transformation up close, though she had noticed the odd swelling of light that occurred sporadically around the city at dawn and dusk. When the grandeur subsided, a completely different being stood there. Lankier, paler, and with the same fiendish eyes that Symenestra all had. Elhaym's stomach nearly turned on itself from something that could have been revulsion… yet this was still Laszlo, the very same man as before. Just a different set of eyes, a different face, but the same mind. Still, it was hard to justify not feeling a little uneasy when he rattled something off in the harsh language of the spiders.

"Yes, the Shinyama Pavilion. It's where the Shinya train, but the majority of them live in the Monastery. You may have seen the massive stairwell cut from stone into the side of the mountain, it leads to-…"

As she had begun speaking, he had turned to her and begun to fiddle with the ribbon his hair had been tied with. In that moment, the glow of the nearby skyglass urn flickering with fire inside had cast a white light over his face. A face that she knew. Could that really be…

"You. You're the one, from Syliras."

Elhaym pushed herself away from the wall and walked towards him at brisk pace. With her silken coat on the night air was far more comfortable than the day's heat, but a terrible chill had run along her spine and settled in the pits of her stomach. Her body stopped only a few feet away from his, desperate to get a closer look at him. Of course it was him. There was no mistaking it really, even if she hadn't thought about it often if at all for years.

"You maimed a man, cut our his eyes," she hissed, and then she leaned closer still until she was peering up at his face from only a few inches away. Her neck was bent harshly, for he was just as tall in this form as the other if not much thinner. "and you raped his daughter. I helped you, and you lied to me. I wanted to trust you, you son of a bitch…"

The confusion in his face was apparent, but there might have been something else there. Fear? In any case, he didn't act like a man being accused of non sense would, and that alone condemned him. "You don't remember me, do you? The woman who hid you? Imagine her face, but without the bandana covering her hair, and maybe with some dirt smudged on her cheeks. Oh, and two eyes. Are you getting it now?"

-----

Syliras - Winter, 509 AV

Elhaym stooped over a massive cooking pot with a brush, relentlessly scrubbing whatever foul smelling shit they cooks had managed to cake onto its insides this time. Working at this little rathole of a tavern was never glamorous, especially since the owner rarely let her work in the front. The snarky woman with a penchant for bloodying a man's nose over a pat on the rump didn't bode well for business, after all. Still, he had found uses for her in a more logistical role as far as cleaning, hauling supplies to and fro, and more or less doing any oddjob that his precious barmaids or himself were too lazy to do.

A dark place it was, and the food was pretty bad. The ale was okay, but nothing fancy. The place attracted a certain sort of crowd, especially considering the food and drink was bad enough to keep the well paid Knights away when they weren't about on business. Elhaym was in the back in a small room connected to the kitchens that housed supplies and massive wash basins, as well as a trap door to the storage cellar below that also happened to be where she lived. She worked for a roof over her head and a few silver mizas a week, but that was alright. For someone like her, it was probably the best deal she could have managed.

Sounds of confusion wafted to her ears alongside the harsh sound of stomping feet and unclear commands reverberating through the walls. The Knights again, obviously. Elhaym groaned out loud, though no one was close enough to hear. The cooks were probably in the backroom of the kitchen playing cards, and the barmaids never came back to her little workroom unless they had to. When the rickety wooden door slowly opened and a body slipped through, she squinted her eyes to check who it was against the harsh shadows cast by the torches that lit the room.

It was a tall fellow, and pale at that. The commotion in the tavern was growing louder still, and this one seemed to want none of it. There was an old wood and iron door that led to one of the alleys, if one could call one of the harsh corridors that snaked around within Syliras an alley. Likely he wanted out.

"You there," she said as the thick bristled scrubber she had been using was tossed into the massive pot. "If you're thinking about leaving that way, think again. We don't get the Knights here often you see, but once they've finished pissing off the boss and scaring away all of our business, they'll lock down these corridors tight and search em' for days for whoever they're looking for. Trust me, there isn't anywhere to hide out there."

And oh, they would. It was relatively easy for the Knights to scour an entire quarter of the castle and keep a rigid lock on who came and went. Likely they were in the process of doing that just now, which meant her boss would be unhappy… and being in her position, she would likely take the brunt of his frustration. Damned Knights.

"Cellar though, who would think to look there?"

She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb to the trap door that sat squarely in the corner of the room. Inside was a stockpile of basic supplies any establishment serving food and drink would need, and blessedly Elhaym was the only one who really ever came and went. The step ladder that descended down from the door was too much for the fat owner to handle, and the barmaids simply refused.

A quick shrug, and went back to scrubbing her pot. It was hard to say exactly why she had offered her help, but mostly it was just out of spite. Maybe it was just for something interesting to happen; one could only scrub pots and haul sacks of potatoes to the kitchen all day so long before boredom became a way of life.

[Laszlo]

The barmaid's voice had startled him. The silver-haired stranger, who had gripped the side of a table as he stopped to catch his breath, hadn't expected anyone to notice he was there among the tavern crowd, much less directly address him. He flinched, as she spoke, and at first he worried she was a Knight, but when he turned, his searching, amethyst eyes found the image of modesty. He helplessly listened to her go on about something, unsure of where this was going. The Ethaefal was tired and afraid. Days into his new existence, the world already seemed to be crashing down on him. She mentioned the cellar. Laszlo's eyes aimed toward where she had pointed spotting the inconspicuous trap door. His tongue peeled from the roof of his mouth as his lips parted. She was aiding him. Relief poured into him, washing over and diluting the worry that had his heart racing. Since the moment he'd spotted the Syliran Knight regiment questioning a shopkeeper, moments after he'd visited her stand, Laszlo wasn't sure what terrible fate would be in store for him this evening. The clerk had pointed in the direction the Ethaefal had gone, and since then he had been stealing through the castle city, running from one crime he didn't commit, and another that he had. He couldn't be sure why the barmaid had offered to help him. Civil unrest, perhaps. That was most likely. It could have been a trap, too, but it would take an exceptionally cruel person to play a trick on a stranger. Laszlo was happy to risk her deceit; if this world was going to try that hard to destroy him, then he wouldn't fight it. Another glance was paid to the tavern's front entrance, knowing it wouldn't be long until a row of armor-clad Knights would come filing through the door. Laszlo couldn't afford to hesitate or question his fortune. Without waiting another moment, he pushed on toward the cellar's trap door, moving with a natural grace granted to him by his slender, lithe frame. He paused briefly as he passed the barmaid, drawing in a heavy breath. "Thank you," he whispered softly, keeping his eyes ahead of him. It felt as though he should say more, perhaps explain himself, but he simply didn't have time. A few moments later, the trapdoor fell shut behind him. Hidden from the Knights and from the moon, Laszlo hugged his knees in the dark, filling the dark with his thoughts and silent questions. ----- Despite his height advantage, the false Symenestra took several small, uneasy steps backward from Elhaym. His anxious violet eyes, now two years wiser than they had been before, focused sharply on her remaining eye. Not for the first time, he tried to envision the half of her face masked by bandages. As he thought about it, he realized she wasn't a long shot from the woman he barely remembered from Syliras. Her hair was different. Shorter, cut more abruptly than it had been in Syliras. And her build… had she been that stocky? But she was about the same height. Her voice had seemed familiar, but familiarity and nostalgia was so ubiquitous for Laszlo that he seldom stopped to think that it might mean anything. "That was you?" Narrow, violet eyes made a quick, vertical sweep of the Acolyte, as if he had never seen her before. "But you're here, in Lhavit. You're an Acolyte. I knew you might be from Syliras but I thought that was ages ago. Gods… I thought I was the only one who remembered any of that." Well, certainly the Fenwicks remembered. Laszlo pulled his eyes away from her, turning to gaze down the slope of the Tenten Peak, down at the lower tiers. The bridge to the Zintia down below was like a narrow toothpick set above the gaping mouth of the Kalean gorge. Lhavit was a fairly large city, but it was barely a mote of dust on the edge of the Unforgiving. He closed his eyes. No, he was trying to distract himself. For so long, he had avoided thinking too deeply about what had occurred in Syliras, never facing the fact that he would always be running away from that city. It was a an impossible stroke of sour luck that had led him back to the woman who had helped him then. Or maybe it wasn't luck. Perhaps Laszlo actually needed to face this. Exhaling slowly, he brought his slender hand through his hair, his sharp, black nails easily parting his thin strands of graphite. "The Fenwicks. I didn't…" He sighed. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. And I didn't lie to you, Elhaym. You might think I look it, but I'm not a monster. Things just went terribly wrong. You don't know how badly I've wished I could go back and change what happened." Laszlo dropped his hand, turning to face Elhaym again. It was easier to hold his eyes on hers than he expected. She wasn't about to draw a sword and attack him, not this time. She was demanding an explanation. There was something to be said about being given the opportunity to be heard. The Syliran Knights, at least, wouldn't have been interested in his side of the story. "Harold Fenwick… yes, I injured him. From what I heard, he's blind because of me. That I'm guilty of." The Ethaefal paused, simply unable to process the weight of Elhaym's accusation about the fisherman's daughter. It was absolutely preposterous. Was that really what they told everyone? "But Gods divine, Elhaym, I didn't rape his daughter. That's an outright lie. Do I look like someone who could—" Yes, you idiot. "Look, just hear me out." Rubbing at the back of his neck, Laszlo looked down at the ground, pushing a tongue against one of his sharper canine teeth. The memory was there, moonlit and clear as crystal. Raelynn's haloed silhouette was standing against the window, her blond hair set aglow by Leth in a cruel, brilliant light. Her brown eyes had looked golden. "I was… new. It was my second day in this world. The Fenwicks had found me washed up at the port and had offered me a place to stay. The younger daughter, Courtney… she was six, I think. She gave me the name I still use today. "Her older sister, Raelynn… she was young and curious. Around seventeen, I guess? The second night I was there, she came into my room. I should have turned her away but… I don't know. I was alone and afraid. I was glad for the company." Laszlo paused, narrowing his eyes at the earth. "I let her kiss me. It was a moment of weakness, but I was just relieved that my existence meant something to anyone, even superficially. But then she cut her tongue on one of my fangs. Not even I knew, then, that Symenestra had a poisonous bite. It was painful for her, and she fell away from me, shocked and confused. Embarrassed too, probably. Her father broke in then, and made assumptions. I never meant to hurt her." Laszlo felt at the ring of his throat softly. "In another moment he was on me, with his hands around my neck. I don't blame him, honestly, for wanting to defend his daughter, but it was just a terrible misunderstanding. My vision went black, and I really thought then that I was going to die. I tried to pull his hands away but he was so much stronger than I was. As a last resort I tried to push at his face. My nails," pulling his hand from his neck, Laszlo held his hand in front of him, "dug into his eyes. I am sorry that I blinded the man, but I'm not sorry for defending myself. "He let go of me, and Raelynn rushed to help him. I didn't know what else to do. So I ran." Both hands found his pockets. Laszlo leaned back on one foot, ready to run if Elhaym didn't believe him and decided she should stick a blade through him. She didn't look to be wearing a sword, but he wouldn't put it past her to be wearing a hidden dagger beneath that black coat, somewhere. "That's the truth. I left Syliras after that and I haven't been back."