Restless

[Luvadros Orthilia]

Spring 20, 512 AV And another. Another new Symenestra life had fully entered the world. Another helpless child had already become a witless killer. Another useless husk of a woman had been dropped from the steps of the Purging to fall an indeterminately high number of feet and likely crumble into numerous grotesque pieces on the cracked and broken cavern floor. Of course the woman—a human who looked to have been of at least partial Vanthan stock—meant nothing, and it wasn't precisely her death that was the tragedy here, that tainted what otherwise would have been a wholly glorious day worthy of celebration. With a global population of less than a thousand, each birth was certainly cause for celebration. But for Luvadros, the mood had remained somber. The woman herself meant nothing, but the necessity of her death for the child to live haunted him as the largely empty silk cords were navigated back to his humble abode that night. It was a reminder of how tenuous the Symenestra grasp on existence really was, and it sickened him that they'd been reduced to this. No wonder the rest of the world equated them with vermin. Usually the comparison with arachnids did not bother him. They were powerful creatures, relative to their size, dominant and predatory. Perhaps that was how those sent on harvest chose to view themselves as well. But he knew better. They were not predators, not the strong feeding on the weak. The humans and whatever else was brought back were not their prey, but their hosts, their pitiful bid for continued existence when they weren't powerful enough to survive on their own. No, not predators. Parasites. They had become a disease. Zlynge, he had to find a better way. Arriving at the smallish cocoon that made up his dwelling, he paused and drew a breath before entering and climbing deftly down the inner wall to the floor. Not so long ago he'd always had an empty home to look forward to at the end of the day. Something of an introvert, he appreciated time spent alone, able to ease into his evening and contemplate the day's events in peace. Now though, he had an incurably inquisitive bird-thing ready to greet him each night. It wasn't as bad as his internal grumblings often made it out to be, particularly as she generally lapsed into a comfortable silence before too long, but it did mean several more minutes before he'd be able to really relax. Of course, after his day, he wasn't ready to just flop down and whine impotently about it either. Not when there was some recent avenue of hope he wanted to further explore. Removing his coat and the exoskeletal armor he'd donned specifically to deal with the violent affair of childbirth, he moved to place both in their respective places before aiming to take a seat at his small table.

[Aril]

The mood Luvadros was in was not difficult to recognize, though it was not for any real familiarity with the Symenestra. Many a night, her former master would come home with that very same look, with the brooding set to his shoulders and the preoccupied lines on his face. Aril watched the man navigate the silken cords connecting his droplet of a house to the rest of the web, great red eyes wide and wary in the eternal twilight. The eagle-owl perched atop the home, large talons gripping the rim of the entrance, but when he drew nearer and she was certain it was him and no one else, her great feathery body dove back down into the stone structure to her own little nook of a room. Lights swirled behind the silken curtain, and then Aril the girl emerged clothed in a long black robe of silk, eternally red eyes watching Luvadros descend as well before scurrying down to the common living area. As a girl, she had strict orders to stay indoors at all times, away from the prying eyes of Luvadros’ kin. She obeyed. As an owl, however, he hadn’t quite specified, and for that discrepancy Aril was glad. Every day, the man left for the Purge, and didn’t return till late, leaving the young Kelvic to her own devices. Leaving her bored. So, she’d come to work out a schedule. In the mornings, the girl would clean. This only took an hour or so, considering how small and sparse the place was, but shaking out the silks and taking out the waste bins to dump to the cavern floor was enough to keep her sane. Later, she would peer into the pantry, scowling at the jars of red whatever that smelled horrid. This was enough for about a quarter of an hour, and when she still proved to have an appetite, she would overcome her conscience, shift and leave the house for a hunt. These were the second most exciting parts of her day, exploring Kalinor on silent wings, and hunting on the plentiful cavern floor. What soured the experience was the guilt. She was disobeying orders by leaving. So, she never went near the Purge, never saw what they did there, despite how curious she was. He might spot her and punish her... Though, he hadn’t yet. Not even for touching his books. After her hunt, while she gnawed on bits of lizard, she would pull them from the small shelves and nooks, and lay them open across the silks to take in the words. Aril wasn’t good with reading. She did it very slowly, because it was difficult and very boring, but it was this that took up the rest of her day at about two pages an hour. She wasn’t learning much, unable to understand half of the words in the medical texts, but maybe the effort would please Luvadros? She didn’t know. In this, he was somewhat difficult to read, especially as he simply brushed past her to begin removing his armor. That took about as long as it did for her to clean up the assortment of small tomes from the silk-swathed floor and put them back into the shelves. Then, as he took a seat, she was left standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do then. She was glad he was back, overjoyed really. This was the first most exciting part of her day: Actual contact with another sapient being, but... She still didn’t know what to think of her master. After a long awkward moment, she went to fetch a soft cleaning cloth and turned back to where he’d placed his exoskeleton. Dragging another stool over, she perched on the very edge of the seat and started to carefully pull it from its stand, piece by piece, to begin cleaning it. It gave her something to do while she tried initiating a real audible connection. She wondered what was the matter, why he looked so sullen. Sure, it wasn't much different from his usual attitude, but enough for her to notice. She was understandably sensitive to her master's moods. It was several minutes of silence, filled with the rasp of cloth on exoskeleton, before she finally broke it, red eyes turning on her master’s back while her hands continued their work. “Master...” Her voice was calm and measured, despite her excitement at him being home, “Does something... trouble you?”

[Luvadros Orthilia]

Little notice was taken of the Kelvic—as she quickly noticed—the weary doctor almost completely ignoring her as he went about his evening routine, not planning to leave again until the next morning. He still wasn't really accustomed to the presence of another being in his private sanctum. Beyond that, he was simply preoccupied even more than usual with his own thoughts and concerns, all his fears and desires and life's little disappointments roiling about in his head as he mechanically stripped his outer layers, stored them neatly, and sat in silence. The enduring quiet that filled the single room was pleasant for him, none of the awkwardness she felt present in his own mind. At one point he rose and retrieved one of the jars whose contents she found so unappealing, reseating himself with the meal set before him on the table. No thought of hunger reached him though, empty as his stomach was after hours of work. No, instead his long fingers curled around the small container, though no actual contact was made. It appeared almost as though he were trying to work up the nerve to grasp it, hand flexing and twisting all about the jar without ever getting within a centimeter of actually touching it. In his mind, Luvadros pictured him fingers closing about his target, forming a protective shell that would let no harm pass through. It remained such a tentative thing, his grasp on the magical energy he attempted to mold. The wizard that had left him the Kelvic had only given him the barest basics of how to erect a barrier of Djed. The willful young man was confident he could develop from there with only his own experimentation and practice, but perhaps not to the degree he desired. A prolonged mentor in the field would be beneficial, but as his focus remained on developing the medical skills he already possessed and his employment at the Purging would both further that aim and consume a great deal of his time, so this would have to remain a secondary focus. That would be adequate, he noted, at least for a little while. Though it had taken several minutes, he could see that at last his focus, aided greatly by the visualization of protection his hands were making, was proving sufficient to at least produce the beginnings of a weave. Progress. Now he needed only seize these threads of energy and form them into the shield he wished to make around the jar. A passable excuse for a smile beginning to form on his lips, his focus was disrupted by the careful voice of his pet. Reflexively turning his gaze on her where she sat near the wall, it lingered only momentarily before he turned back to his work. Predictably, the progress he'd made had collapsed, no trace of his personal Djed surrounding the jar any longer. Heaving an irritated sigh, he answered curtly, “Yes. A pestersome little voice is disturbing my peace.” For a moment he looked as though he meant to restart the whole process, but as he sent a scowl toward the Kelvic, something in her features reminded him of the dead Vantha woman. This gave him pause enough that after a moment a second sigh was exhaled, more tired than annoyed, and any further attempts to distract himself with practice were abandoned. “It was merely a long day, Aril,” he spoke again, sans the bite of aggravation, “a reminder of how far we've fallen.” The young physician gave a little snort at his unintentional and morbid joke, thinking then of how far the corpse had fallen.

[Aril]

As the annoyed breath left his mouth, the girl seemed to flutter, like a bird mantling its wings, pausing in her work until she settled back in her chair. She hadn’t meant to upset him further, though she should’ve known better when that that look of concentration was on his face. Aril had, of course, seen her former master practice with his magic. The owl girl had also seen him working with Luvadros on the same thing, just before the man left and decided to leave her trapped in Kalinor. The vicious thoughts that arose at the man’s memory were quickly quashed, the Kelvic wishing to keep her attention on the moment, and not on notions of revenge. The unintelligible words he spoke similarly disturbed the girl; she understood the shorter ones, but whatever the larger ones meant was a mystery. At first, she frowned in response to his scowl, but then quickly turned her face away, eyebrows low as she concentrated on polishing the chestplate she held in her hand. Then he sighed again, and she risked turning her scarlet gaze back to him. His words held no real emotion, except fatigue that Aril felt in her bones. He was staring blandly at that jar of so called food once again, yet Aril felt no stirring of power. Oh, she’d really upset him... Any excitement at him being home vanished, to be replaced with self-reproach. Eyebrows drawn together over a deep frown, the girl rose and placed the chestplate where she’d been sitting. Padding across the silks, she closed the distance to the table. Stopping at the edge, to Luvadros’ right, her eyes flicked between his face and the jar. Another minute in silence, though it was far more contemplative than awkward. A brief moment was spent wondering what Kreuk might’ve done to make things right... Probably let her robe slip to the floor. Aril’s hand went for a moment to the tight knot around her waist, but it stopped there. Kreuk was a simpering little brat of a Kelvic, who pouted for what she wanted, and whined for what she didn’t get. Aril despised her nearly as much as she did her master. Also, there was the matter of what Symenestra did to females. Yeah, that had her dropping her hand back to her side real quick. Besides, she didn’t want to please her master by being like Kruek. No, there was another way, there always was. Lifting her other hand, Aril placed it tentatively on the man’s shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort. As she did, her thoughts again turned to her previous master. What had he done with his magic? His Djed, he called it? Three years in his presence, she had to know something... After several long moments, it finally occurred to her, and a low hum vibrated in her throat, breaking the silence. A part of the ritual nobody thought anything of, because it was something that was expected. “Bastion...” The name was spoken with a drip of acid, the feelings blatant in her otherwise calm tone. Shoulders hunching, she felt the hairs on her back and neck bristle – It would’ve been far more impressive with feathers – but she swallowed her revulsion and continued, “He chanted words when he did magic. Said it helped with his focus.” Her eyes were hopeful when they landed back on the Symenestra’s pale face. Maybe this would make him happy. Maybe she could earn a word of praise, and he’d allow her closer. One day close enough to bond even.

[Luvadros Orthilia]

Ignorant of the Kelvic's concerns and actions, Luvadros quickly slipped back into his own tumultuous thoughts without the determined practice of shielding magic to keep him in the moment. No notice was taken when she quietly approached, his unfocused gaze hovering still near the jar on the table. Soon enough a single hand lifted to his face, pads of his forefinger and thumb rubbing gingerly over his weary eyes just after they'd slid shut, polished claws instinctively kept from contacting and scratching his flesh. The hand that dropped onto his shoulder similarly elicited no response. Though aware of it, it didn't register as anything worth reacting to, positively or otherwise. Brief as their time together had been, he'd adapted well to the presence a pet and paid it no more heed than some human might notice their cat brushing deliberately past their leg. The Symenestra's thoughts remained fixedly on trying to release the day's toils and disappointments, which inevitably led only to a dwelling upon the dead surrogate's face, twisted with pain as it had been in the end. Much as concern for these outsiders was not his reason for opposing the harvests, he was not so disaffected as he liked to pretend. Losing patients had not yet become so regular a part of his life as to not exact a heavy toll on his emotional well-being. The silence lingered for another minute or two before the measured voice of the female again broke it, though this time it was a slow response that had him lifting his eyes to her rather than the sudden break of focus she'd caused before. Somewhere in the back of his mind, some impulse sounded to reply to her declaration of her former master's name with something akin to, “No, Luvadros. We've been over this,” but he was in no humor to make jokes and too tired to deliver it as venomous snark. Instead he merely let out a quiet, “Hmm,” and considered her words. The practice had been explained to him, of course, and he understood it to be as technically unnecessary as his gestures, more a tool for focusing one's energy than any true component of spellcasting. He'd avoided it thus far for the belief that it would make him sound ridiculous, but he had to concede that no one could hear him anyway. Well, no one of any import. A great deal of stock was placed in his personal pride, but even the arrogant young man could recognize how in this instance that pride was limiting the effectiveness of his training. “I'll consider it,” he relented, though he now had other things than constructing a Djed shield around his dinner on his mind. “Aril,” he continued after a moment's contemplation, “you do realize that Bastion likely delivered a death blow when he left you here, yes?” Luvadros was not one to sugarcoat the issue or approach it in any manner besides head on.

[Aril]

When no word of reproach followed her tentative advice, a slow smile curved the girl's lips, her head bobbing bird-like as she allowed herself a moment to preen. She'd been helpful! Taking it as unsaid encouragement, the girl crouched on the silks next to her master's chair, the hand on his shoulder moving down to rest on his forearm while the other gripped the edge of the table. Scarlet eyes leaving his face, she gazed across the surface of the table at the jar of nasty red liquid, waiting for him to implement her advice, and see his success. When nothing more happened however, a questioning look was angled at her master, but any words were silenced by his obvious intent to speak. The question had an immediate effect on the Kelvic. The hand that had been absently stroking his arm tightened, bunching the silks in time with the jolt of surprise and fury in her gut. Lips drawing back, her teeth clacked together several times, before the girl stood and restlessly migrated to the chair across from Luvadros. She perched on the very edge of the seat on her toes, with her knees drawn up to her chest. "I realize." She snapped at the table's lacquered surface, eyebrows low. Her nose crinkled, and then she hid her face in the robe's wide sleeves, so much like a wing. Her voice came again, muffled. "He thought himself so clever, leaving me like that. If I ever find him again..." However, before more acidic words could escape, she realized past her anger that she sounded terribly ungrateful, though, the question itself brought several more troubling ones to the fore. What did he mean by bringing this up? Her red eyes were intent on his face, wary. "I do appreciate you taking me in his stead, master..." There was a tautness to her form now, as an animal ready to fight or flee. "Unless... Your intentions are the same as Bastion's...?" Aril considered this dangerous territory. The question was insolent, beyond her station, but between having her master like her, and possibly being dead, she preferred life. Unbonded as she was, she was a flighty creature, and already starting to plan an escape from the house and the city of Kalinor itself.

[Luvadros Orthilia]

The impassive curiosity with which Luvadros regarded his pet gave way to a fairly predictable disapproving scowl as his eyes left her face to settle on the mess she was making of his arm wrappings. This irritation in turn gave way to a new curiosity, watching the apparent human act very much like a disgruntled bird. It shouldn't have been surprising, but he actually had very little first-hand experience with Kelvics prior to his sudden ownership of Aril, the novelty of the whole thing having yet to wear off. Though he wasn't deliberately making light of her situation, the amused fascination ebbed not in the least as she took on the severe expression of her avian form and then hid her head beneath her sleeve. In spite of how seriously he did take her fate, one palm came up to cup over his mouth, clawed fingertips tapping absently at his cheek, using the gesture to conceal the brief smile her antics put on his face. It died away quickly enough, particularly with the piercing gaze leveled at him once more. No offense was taken at the bluntness of her question, nor its implications. Of course she wouldn't feel much appreciation toward him if he intended to have her murdered via childbirth. In fact that she'd avoided broaching the subject herself earlier made him question her survival instincts, now that she'd confirmed knowledge of Symenestra practices concerning foreign women. Perhaps she hadn't known when her former master left her in Kalinor. At any rate, he calmly shook his head as her fears were hopefully allayed. “For all your apparent fondness of me, you obviously know little about me. I have no reason to want you dead.” The Symenestra's head tilted to one side as he considered her, this additional “gift” the wizard had left him with for a reason he'd yet to really fathom. “Though, I do wonder at Bastion's,” he confided, certain the human had to have known what he was condemning her to. Perhaps. Luvadros had made no secret of his stance on surrogates to the man in the hope it would improve the chances of successfully negotiating a lesson. Perhaps the man had not seen it as the death sentence most others would. “I do not wish you as a surrogate. I do not condone the concept of surrogates at all, so I will not be giving you to any other for such uses either,” came his assurance, perhaps the warmest thing he'd ever said to her. This was quickly compensated for. “The very idea of a Symenestra copulating with you or, Viratas forbid, of doing so myself is enough to turn the stomach. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.” Harsh, perhaps, but it was nothing personal; she was no more disgusting than any of her kind, or the humans they emulated. What comfort he'd offered aside, he did not wish to instill too great a sense of security and thus nurture complacency. Her situation remained dangerous and she had to know that. “My influence is not a terribly powerful thing in this city, however, and if anyone found out I was harboring you, my hand would be forced.” Though his speech remained even, a concerned frown took his features. This was not a scenario he enjoyed imagining.

[Aril]

His first assurance did little to relax the bird-girl, who still sat rigidly in the chair, both hands now gripping the edge of the seat. Her eyes remained fixed on him, expectant, though she knew not of what. For him to dart across the table and tackle her? And why wonder at Bastion’s? They’d already established that he wanted her dead... Oh, but Luvadros didn’t know why... Yes, that was something of an issue. Some time back, Aril had meandered to the revelation that it was because of her behavior. This, of course, had not been mentioned to her current master, and the girl had no intention of enlightening him. If he knew she was terribly misbehaved, enough to be left in Kalinor, there was no telling what he might do with her then. Especially since they were unbonded. Her thoughts registered easily on her face, her eyes squeezing shut against the thought of being thrown out again, left alone. She didn’t want that, not at all, especially when her fondness towards him was not so shallow as he implied. The girl knew she needed to find a good bond, now that she was older, past the age of a quick impression. Luvadros... She had a good feeling about him. From what she did know of him, he was a hard worker, convicted, but solitary. And very smart. All the things she liked. Aril knew she had the skills to protect and take care of him, and if he allowed a bond, she’d then have the power to help him in his endeavors. As he continued, his words easing her from her more venomous thoughts about Bastion and back into the present, the girl’s shoulders began to unhunch, her muscles unwinding. Eyes sliding open again, she gazed at him between her fingers, which had come to cover her face. Even if he was using larger words she didn’t understand, the girl felt the certainty in his voice. He meant every word. Any potential insult in expressing his distaste for anybody copulating with her was lost on the girl, who was simply basking in the sensation of relief. His warning did not go unheeded, though. Mouth drawing into a thin line, she nodded. Following it, she allowed the silence to linger, but not long enough that he left the conversation all together. “I was reading your books.” It was said somewhat breathily, as if delivering a confession, though nearly every night when he came home, he would find her buried among the tomes. “That’s how I learned about the surrogates.” At least, she’d extrapolated about the surrogates. Having avoided the Place of Purging, she’d not yet seen the bodies piled on the cavern floor far below, but there were other clues. There was an abundance of non-Symenestra women in the city. Quite a few of them were pregnant. These observations, combined with what she could glean from the texts provided enough of an answer to chill Aril’s bones. She continued, “I didn’t ask you before now because I didn’t want to upset you. I want you to like me.” Eyes now sliding away from his face, her lower lip was drawn into her mouth, and she chewed on it. Her toes curled around the seat’s edge in nervousness, and she bounced a little on the balls of her feet. Finally, fingers worrying the hem of the dark sleeve, she huffed out a breath, and said, “Do you mean to keep me, master? To bond?”

[Luvadros Orthilia]

She was not without some comprehension of the persistent danger, then. That was good. Even through his frown, the doctor returned her nod with his own, glad they'd come to something of an understanding. At the mention of the few tomes he had, Luvadros glanced over his shoulder to where she'd carefully put them all back. She was meticulous in her placement and had yet to damage any of them, which was why he hadn't spoken to her about the way she'd taken to pulling them out. He was surprised, however, to learn that she'd actually gleaned anything from them. “And here all this time I suspected you'd only been looking at the pictures,” he remarked dryly. Of course there were no pictures. Each volume was handwritten in his own penmanship, mostly just notations from his years of medical studies or his personal thoughts on whichever theory or practice he'd been learning, but also some relevant articles from the Cribellum he'd copied down for easy review without having to go look them up again. Many more complete texts did include diagrams about Symenestra anatomy, and there'd been a time when he'd tried to include those. His lack of skill with drawing had quickly discouraged such additions. The feeble, if heartfelt, explanation she gave for not bringing his intentions up before brought about a small clicking of his tongue in mildly scornful amusement. The idea of holding one's tongue for fear that what they had to say might upset someone was quite clearly not one he'd ever bought into. Still, it was her nature, he supposed, so there was little point in trying to change it. Her final pair of questions preceded another brief round of silence, his amethyst gaze sharpening more than it had since he got home as it bored into her. Tentatively posing, “I honestly haven't given it much thought. I've had much of higher priority on my mind lately,” he resumed the silent consideration, still staring at her as he turned it over in his head. It was true that he'd been distracted by quite a lot, between the refugees from whichever catastrophe had most recently taken place in the world above, beginning his career at the Place of Purging, and trying to get a better handle on his shielding. She would in all probability be safer away from Kalinor, but only if she could be handed off to someone else. Alone, her death was perhaps even more likely than it was here with him. This wasn't of primary concern, but it was a piece of the puzzle to consider. Kelvic servants were considered quite valuable by some, he knew, but he could hardly sell her to another in the city, knowing what she would then be used for. He could stomach delivering children from the surrogates because it was preserving Symenestra life, but this was too much like condoning the practice himself. The more he considered losing her at all, the less it appealed. With a soft huff he accepted that in keeping her here, within Kalinor, and secreted from the rest of his people, he was performing a private little rebellion, defying the masses that claimed the harvests as the only way to continue existing. He rather liked this. “I would, I believe, rather you stay than not,” he stated simply with another short nod.

[Aril]

That little bit of silence stretched and stretched, like a length of taffy in a candy-maker’s hands. The few seconds that comprised it were an agonizing wait, and throughout it, Aril’s eyes were focused dead on Luvadros’ face. She was unwilling to move, not until one of them spoke. When he did speak, his words were as a pin, poking holes in that bloated silence and letting the tension hiss out. The same with Aril’s posture. The girl appeared to fold in on herself, deflating, eyes shifting off to the side as she nodded morosely. Ah, right, putting it off. She was very familiar with this whole speech. For once, she avoided his gaze, blinking slowly and self-pityingly at the corner of the rounded, silk-swathed room. She’d wait then, wait until he was done with... his more important business, and then ask again. Or she could just leave. That thought trailed again through her mind, and the girl’s pale face tilted up, to the entrance of the home, almost wistful. And again, Luvadros’ voice broke her reverie, but at first it wasn’t processed. Face angling downwards once again, she stared at the man, eyebrows canted upwards. What’d he just say? He was nodding an affirmative, but what were his words? Somehow, Aril’s mind had heard them and immediately gone into shock. She was overcome, and she didn’t even know it yet. Mouth dropping open, she heard herself say, “You wish me to stay...” Then, as the wild smile sliced across her face, her brain finally processed the information, and the girl shot upright, wide eyes ablaze with frenzied energy. Thankfully, she stopped herself before she hopped straight across the table, but her hip smashed painfully against the rim as she zoomed around it. She ignored it. Spoken that way, it wasn’t quite a yes, but Aril heard it as such. She would stay, and they could bond, properly. This was, perhaps, the greatest thing she’d ever heard in her life. Unheeding of claws or teeth – or propriety for that matter – the Kelvic flung herself at Luvadros so that the chair skidded back a few inches before her arms looped around his neck and her face was buried in the wrappings of his chest. The words “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, master,” Streamed from her mouth, but an instant later, there was a sharp “Oh no–” The inertia was enough to scoot the chair back but this wouldn’t have been a problem if the silken floor hadn’t caught on the chair’s legs. With a slow creak, the spindly thing began to tilt sideways beneath their combined weight, and Aril was on top. Eyes widening, the girl squawked in horror as she began clawing at her master at her master in an attempt to defy gravity, before twisting around him in a flurry of limbs. A low, pained ‘oof’ emerged from her throat, carried on the air forced from her longs by the impact. She’d angled herself to take the brunt of the fall, cushioning Luvadros against the floor with her body, but even pinned beneath him and the chair, and face down in the silks, the girl was grinning madly. Moments before, if he hadn’t just told her yes, she might’ve covered her face with her fingers, shook her head, and moaned about how she couldn’t do anything right, but now she simply wheezed out a laugh. “I am sorry, master.” The girl chirruped, “I shall try to avoid causing the situations I need to protect you from.”