Closed Smile Like you Mean it (Wrenmae)

[Rayage]

Rayage watched as the familiar returned to its natural state. The watery creature seeping through the floorboards. His words were lost to the nuit, ”You are a really ignorant creature. You hope for change, yet you do nothing to further it.” he told him, ”You are far too passive, and that just wont do.” he walked over to where the bucket had been kicked and picked it up. Walking back he placed the bucket on the chair and looked to see if the familiar was still present. ”All your hopes, dreams, wishes, everything is in this bucket. This bucket is Zan.” he pointed to it, ”Without some type of force interacting with it, the bucket will never move, the dreams, hopes, wishes will never move. You can hope and hope and hope all you want, but hope is a passive force.” he tried to explain to him, ”Hope is potential, just like djed is. Though Hope alone cannot achieve anything, just like Djed. Hope, just like djed, has to be given form, purpose, it has to be molded and acted upon. For this bucket,” he pointed again to it, ”Will not move unless an action is taken to move it.”

”However,” he grabbed the bucket by an edge and slowly started tilting it, ”Once force is applied to it, your hopes, dreams, ambitions, whatever you are working towards will be free to pour out, and once freed they will be able to effect the world, just like the water you spilled all over. Whatever you are working towards with time, action, and force will come into being, brought about by your will. It’s almost magical how that works.” he mused, ”Hope is a powerful force, but it won’t move the bucket. Only you can move it and pour its contents. Hope in this regard is like a candle in the dark, it can light the way, but you must walk to make any progress.”

With that he fell silent, and made his way out of the room. Opening the door, he looked back over his shoulder, ”You are wrong, you know. Your opinion about me.” He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. The impression had already been made, but he knew that if Wrenmaes familiar didn’t trust or like him, then that could affect his relationship with Wrenmae. Closing the door behind him he sighed, and made his way to the kitchen, placing the bucket by the stove before taking a glance out of the windows to see the darkness of the night staring back at him. The glass almost made a mirror and in it he could he see his reflection. Was he really there? Was he really standing in the dark?

[Wrenmae]

Zan did not speak any longer, only sinking into the floorboards and out of sight. What fate awaited the familiar below this level, that was a mystery. In any case, the conversation was over after Rayage had spoken. Zan wrestled with the information he'd been given, turning it over and over in his mind. How to react? How to move? How to affect change? It all seemed very complicated and the sarawanki found himself doubting very much that he could do it at all.

As Rayage stared out the window, his form a silhouette in the darkness, another stepped behind him, showing up in the window as another shadow that settled in the doorway.

Wrenmae stood there, supporting himself against a doorframe. He watched the wizard from where he stood without sound at first. He let the nuit know he was there first, a realization that he might have been listening the whole time...which was partially true. He'd caught the tail end of the discussion, enough to know where both Zan and Rayage stood with him. Was he someone to be moderated? Scolded?

Perhaps even...worried over?

But he shook those feelings free immediately. Rayage had never shown anything more than professional concern for the mage and there was no reason to believe the undead were even capable of real compassion or connection to the living. Too quick to die perhaps.

Zan was wrong...even if he did want Rayage to mentor his master he'd erred. The wizard was concerned with himself and his accomplishments. Nothing else really mattered.

"My familiar speaks out of hand, I think," Wren said, "You have my apologies if he upset you with his prattling."

Stepping into the kitchen, he used the counter to keep him upright as he approached Rayage. "Soon we will make our way to Sahova. Is there anything I need to know of the place?"

[Rayage]

Rayage stood there, still staring out the window in the creepy motionless nuit way. Reflected back at him was a shadow which joined him, and then a voice. Ray didn’t turn to acknowledge either of them, for there was so much to discover in the twisting labyrinth of his own thoughts. ”There are a lot of things I could tell you about Shaova, a lot of things which worry me about you going there.” he said frowning, ”Tell me, how do you think the gods risen to such a pristine state of existence?” he asked, giving the man a moment to ponder how own answer before Ray answered himself, ”It is through the absolute dedication to themselves to be the complete idea of what they wish to become.” he told him, ”It is through this narrow minded approach, this focus upon becoming something greater than what you are currently, this marrying of an idea and djed. It is through that power which they ascend. The reason most mortals cannot join the ranks of the divine is because they do not possess that level of commitment. Mortals can easily be swayed, but all have potential…” he cut himself off there and let his words sink into his own mind.

”I have had a lot of time to think. If I have anything it is time.” he said, ”But I do not believe I wish to become a god.” he said, ”I ask you, what is greater than a god? Surely there must be something out there since the god is slave to his or her own domain.” He shook his head, ”Anyways, you familiar did not speak out of line. He acted out of line, yes, but his words did not faze me.” he told him, ”I would hope he learns his lesson. After all, everyone can speak their mind, no? Though if they do, I have the right to think them idiotic.” he mused.

”Sahova is dangerous for the living. There we undead call you Pulsers.” Ray explained, ”A trivial title for trivial existence. Do not expect to get much respect at all, and do your best to just nod and take whatever troubles the undead give you. However, I will do my best to protect you while we are there.” he told him, ”In Sahova I am quite high ranking. In fact, it one of the only places who seem to really respect my talents. My best advice is to keep you head low and do not cast any fancy types of magic. If a nuit saw the skill you possess they would, perhaps, try to keep you.” he said.

”However,” Rayage turned to him, ”the nuits are the least of my worries about you. I outrank much of the island, and so if push comes to shove I can easily get you out of trouble with political power alone. I just ask you do your best not to make me look bad…”

There seemed to be something on his mind, a slight hesitation within the nuit surfaced and his next words seemed unsure. It was quite uncharacteristic of the nuit, ”However, I am not a fool Wrenmae. For someone like you Sahova could be dangerous if they pinpoint that strange aura you have around you.” he said. Of course Ray hadnt seen or felt an aura. It was just an expression, perhaps the best way he could describe it. ”My condition has only gotten worse since our travels.” he told him, ”And it all started when I met you.” his eyes locked onto him, ”My body is decaying far too fast. Did you think I would not notice, that I would write it off as coincidence? At first, I did, however it’s been going on for far too long.” Ray seemed to be connecting the dots, ”What exactly are you?”

”I cannot protect you against yourself, or your innate nature.” he told him.

[Wrenmae]

Hanging against the ledge of counter he put his hands on, the hypnotist listened. He oft found wisdom in the old nuit and it was sometimes easy to forget that they had spent hardly more than a year together...off and on down the seasons. Somehow, Rayage felt more than that, a guiding figure that was at once callous and aloof as he was driven and passionate. There was a certain loyalty here, to him, to the fact he had stuck his neck out for the young mage some time ago...that he was still here as the rest of his companions fell to dust and ruin.

But at the same time, much like Ignotus, Rayage was a nuit...a being who had traded so much of himself to become this creature that stood before him. There was a quiet desperation among the nuit kind. Although none would dare speak of it, each had lost something vital in the transformation...and that void was replaced by nothing but yawning hunger. It was as if each nuit was a void unto themselves and everything around them.

Great work. Great Ambition. Weak frames and minds.

"Greater than a god..." Wrenmae almost snorted derisively, "You seek what then...to be a legend? Your power to inspire will put you on the level of gods without needing to abandon yourself in the pursuit of an ideal...but like all legends, they can be misinterpreted, misremembered, or misspoken. Just be careful what kind of legacy you leave...I won't always be there to save your hide from a servant of Dira."

He took the nuit's words to heart, looking out through the window he had stared through. Wren's face was cast in shadows, but his mouth deepened into a scowl. "Take care what you say to my familiar. I have enough trouble with his willfull attitude already. I could do without the speeches on hope and taking action. I'm perfectly capable of running my own life and accomplishing my own goals without you interfering, Rayage." He took a breath, let it out with the pain of moving, "As for your final question..."

Silence. So, Vayt's mark worked on the undead as well. It was something to consider for the future, but whether he wanted to reveal his secret or not...

"I am who I am, no more and no less. My secrets are my own and I will reveal them to you when or if I am ready..." He paused to consider the sentence, "Not to cast doubt on our relationship, but there are other possibilities for your decay rate. If I am a complicating factor, I was not aware of it till now."

Would Sahova find out?

"I'll take your words on the citadel to heart...and I will simply say that my secret was not my will to carry. It happened when I was very young and has been a constant burden on me since. Perhaps in the company of the dead I had hoped to find some comfort, some...reprieve, but perhaps my heartbeat betrays me for once."

Sighing, he turned to step away, wincing each time his right foot made impact with the floor. "You've been a good companion, Rayage...and before I embark to Sahova I wanted you to know that. We do not speak much, or as much as we used to."

He left it at that, sighing, "Do you believe me to be lost, Rayage?"

[Rayage]

”There is a difference between lost and confused.” he started, ”The difference is in fact as vast as opposites: Up and Down, Left and Right, Life and Death, Black and White…” he ended with the last and most significant comparison in his mind, ”Being lost and being confused are often mistaken as being the same thing. Which, I assure you, they are not. You, child, are merely confused. You have yet to sell the entirely of yourself… Those who are lost have no hope, nothing to quite save them. They are desperate, but it’s a different kind of feeling with you.” The nuit said pondering his words, ”You still have your light, while others have fallen into the void. Never you let someone tell you that you are lost, because you are never so until you accept that title for yourself. You are never lost until you give up hope and the possibility of change. You know, I didn’t tell Zan this, but many, many times change demands sacrifice, and that is why many shy away from it, such as your familiar. He isn’t ready to pay an unknown price. Most are not.” A smile brightened his face as his mind churned out the possibilities, ”Or maybe it isn’t so that the price is unknown, but rather known all too well in the gut, and one is unwilling and therefor unable to part with it.”

Into the darkness he once again looked, the reflective darkness in the glass which seemed to pull from him his very soul. He was brooding on what Wrenmae had told him, and nodded, ”You have your own secrets as I do mine.” he told him accepting the possibility that Wrenmae may, in fact, not be the case of his decay, but instead his abnormal traveling. He had spent most of the year in Sahova after all. If envoy of Dira which came after them was any indicator of Rays rather colorful past, ”Wrenmae, next time we will be prepared for ghosts.” he told him, ”I know the basics of another world magic. Spiritsim.” he said, ”When we get to the island I will study more of the art myself, and I’ll teach you what little I know about it if that would interest you.”

The offer, of course wasn’t completely for the bottom of the nuits heart. He couldn’t allow his guardian to be struck down by a ghost again. That, that would be unacceptable, and so in furthering Wrenmaes knowledge he also furthered his own protection, his own desires, and his own goals.

[Wrenmae]

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath till his lungs began to ache. When Rayage had finished, an explosion of air gushed from the mage's lungs. For a moment, both had been as similar still life portraits...two corpses standing vigilant over a silent star-lit kitchen.

Wren shrugged, "Zan has some learning to do," he admitted, "Perhaps we were not meant to be bonded all those years ago...and perhaps humans change more than Sarawanki."

He pulled up a chair and sat, more collapsed into it, "Honestly, between the two of you I have no end to lectures," He cast a lopsided grin at the nuit, "Never stray too far from the classroom, do you Professor?"

Leaning back in the chair, he swung his legs up onto the table. The poison was wearing off now, and he'd regained a bit more of his mobility. Everything still hurt, but at least he wasn't a cripple.

"Spiritism...you think it'll keep assholes like Isaac at bay? Say no more then, Professor, consider me interested."

There was a silence between the two, the natural sort of dip in conversation when all questions had been answered. Idly, Wrenmae drew his cold iron blade and scratched blood off of it, inspecting it minutely for damage before replacing it in the sheath.

"Ever think about having children?" He asked the nuit suddenly, looking up, "You and Rayanne, I mean...before the Valterrian, before you lost her."

[Rayage]

”Zan has some learning to do?” he asked. ”Wrenmae, only fools think that they know it all. We all, no matter how wise or learned we are, have some learning to do.” he told the man not wanting him to think that he is somehow above his familiar, or gods forbid Rayage himself. ”That includes me as well. We are all meant to constantly learn, grow, and change… There is nothing better than that.”

Rayage then listened, and nodded blankly at what else the man had to say. The chair pulled out, the man had seated himself, and the nuit just stood there watching. ”Maybe the lectors never end for you because there is so much more for you yet to learn?” he offered, ”You should feel a bit grateful that we spend the time of day offering you our wisdom.” he told him, quite serious. ”Not everyone has the pleasure of talking to someone who has lived as long as I.” The nuit was a relic in himself. There was a certain bit of pride there.

He was glad that Wrenmae was interested in Spiritism. He made not of the interest, shaking his head in affirmation to the statement just made. Spiritism indeed would help with that pesky agent of Dira, Issac…

Then the silence fell, and he was absorbed in it, listening to it, listening to nothing. It was not an awkward silence, it was just none of them had anything else to say for once. It was, if anything, a welcome silence. A silence which greeted them, and allowed them to collect their thoughts… It was out of this silence, perhaps birthed from it, that a question came to the nuit which caught him quite off guard. At first he laughed at it, but then he realized that the man was serious in the question, and again silence fell for a second or two.

”Children.” he sounded uncertain with the word, ”Of course we considered it.” he told him, ”However consider and dream is all we could do. The gods felt it right to not bless us with children no matter how hard we tried. What do you think drove us to the darker side of Alchemy, to research and understand life itself?” he asked Wrenmae, ”It is Rayannes research that I continue even today. It is with that goal, to create a child, that the research began in the first place.” The nuit revealed the exact nature of the research to the man. Though his explanation was short, sweet, and did not drone on like most Rays speeches. It was curt. Almost as if he was both answering and avoiding the answer at the same time.

”What about yourself?” he asked Wrenmae, ”It should be easy for you to get a wife and settle down. Perhaps she will be your cure, and you can readjust your life to fit your new purpose: to make a legacy for yourself within your own family.” he said, ”Doesn’t that sound amazing? To be able to pass on a part of yourself within your own child…” he said, trying to get Wrenmae to agree with him, to live his dream through the living man.

[Wrenmae]

He laughed.

It rolled out of him like light itself, staining the air of solemnity between the two mages. Alchemist and Hypnotist, their worlds so similar and different all at once. But it was not a short laugh, it was long and buckled the injured mage almost doubled over the table. He pounded at the wood with a single fist. What had begun as something that sounded joyous ended up choked, bitter, more akin to sobs than laughter, and cold as the winds of Kalea.

“My apologies,” the hypnotist said, head still bent over the table, “I do not mean to make light of your advice…but children, settling down, a life like that is not one the gods see fit to give.” No. Vayt would never accept something so mundane from him. He was cursed and blessed with the touch of Blight. No one he dared to love would not suffer his presence. He would drive each and every friend, lover, and enemy into the grave…and in that sense, was he not like Rayage in a way? What centuries did for the wizened mage, the mark of Blight did for Wrenmae. He lived Rayage’s long eternity of loss in a quickened pace. No. No child sired of him would live long, and even if it did, it would not be an enviable life.

“I do not seek to continue my line, Rayage…” he said quietly, “My mother abandoned me and I…” he trailed off, “My father is dead, along with anyone else who could call me kin. The gods are wise to limit people like myself…and perhaps there was reason to prevent you and Rayanne as well.” The last comment felt harsh and the mage grimaced, looking up at Rayage but unable to meet his eyes. “I apologize…it is not my place to speak for the gods, or for mortal men and tragedy.” He was quiet a moment, looking past the mage and out the window.

“Do you call your unlife living?” He focused back on the mage then, all the fiery curiosity that followed the mage, the intense scrutiny. “Do you miss drawing breath into your lungs, the feeling of being full of warm, good food…the passion of relations, of pumping blood, of a body that does not betray you to rot and decay?”

Pensively, he pushed at a minute speck on the table, “I think becoming a nuit would be a curse unto itself. You only exist, body to body, to continue your research eternal, eternal.” He sighed, “Watching those you care for wither and die around you. A century must seem so short to you now, when I have experienced none.”

“Tell me, Rayage,” he rested his head against an open hand, elbow propped up on the table, “Does immortality have weight to it?”

[Rayage]

The nuit just stood there watching the man laugh at his suggestion. He was a fool to suggest it to such a man, but it couldn’t be helped. In the current, the present, this man was the only person he would even consider or allow himself to talk like that to. ”I think, sooner or later, you will find that some things are more important to protect than the fragile egos of the gods.” he told him, ”One day I would wish for you to continue your blood. Know it or not, your blood is special, no matter what happened in your past. You really shouldn’t let the past define you, but instead look towards the future and see the near infinite possibility that could be you. I refuse to believe that Fate can dictate every living moment was have on Mizahar. It is why, even when there is a god called Fate, we still have that word: choice. With that word comes one of the most valuable freedoms to ever exist.”

”Honestly, it matters little what the gods think. I am not a godly person Wrenmae. I don’t think you would be either if you watched their stupidity destroy your entire world, everything which you knew. The only thing I can bring myself to believe in is the concept of constant change, because, as I have said, with that change is still hope. Hope that the world can better itself. Hope still that I may yet have a child. Hope that this darkness across Mizahar can be lifted by the light of knowledge and understanding… There is even hope for you yet, all you have to do is see it for yourself.”

He then fell silent to listen to everything which the mage spouted, talking about life, being a nuit as if he had experienced it himself. When he was finished the it was the undeads turn to laugh, but this time it didn’t last nearly as long as Wrenmaes, nor did it have the passion of emotion into it. The laugh itself sounded like judgment, as the nuits gears turned inside his very head trying to think and come up with an answer to the question. ”Does not every life, living or undead, have a weight to it?’ he asked, ”The living are so bogged down in their limited existence that some think it is not worth the life which they are given, they then choose to end it for emotional reasons.” the undead said, ”Wrenmae, every life, living, dead, or divine has weight to it, something which pulls at your very heart and makes you wish to end it all.”

”In the end, no matter what choice you choose or aspire to be, you will always be dealing with the same inherent problems that come with ‘life’, just in a different, unique way. Trading one evil for another, that is how I see it. The living has to come to terms with their own mortality, while the dead has to come to their own peace with the concept of eternity. Both are quite daunting, and both have their own weight to them. Both, if not accepted, lead to a life lost.”

”You may have your own opinions about the Nuit race, but do know that I understand becoming such a creature was my own choice.” he paused for a moment, looking down at the table and then around the room which they were in, ”And I have to live with that choice I made because I feel, no matter how long I lived, that I haven’t quite had enough time in this world.” he said, ”There are so many interesting people and places, yes, even in this shadow of a place in time. The possibility of unlife, the concept of immortality, intrigues me to no end, yet even this existence is not perfect. We nuit are still flawed, and we have yet to take the ‘perfect’ body which shall not rot, and which will elevate our existence to a higher level of understanding. One day, I shall beat the nuit condition and become something more. I already have had a taste of perfection.” He told Wrenmae.

”What would you give to become an Alvina?” he asked the man a question which seemed to foreshadow Rays own past. ”At one time I had become an Alvina myself.” or so the nuit believed.

[Wrenmae]

Alvina.

The word was not fully familiar to Wrenmae. He'd read a snatch of passage once, in Zeltiva, about the children of gods sometimes becoming Alvina. It was a transcended state, was it not? A sort of godlieness without immortality. Steepleing his finger together, the living watched the dead...both with their own stories, strong in equal measure. While their journey had not been long together...certainly not in the eternity that Rayage had lining the timeline behind him, the two had grown considerably close, considerably fast.

Although Wren had threatened his life in Zeltiva, the nuit still deigned his presence. And although the nuit's motivations were sometimes in question to the mage, Wren still deigned to protect him.

Complicated. One might call them friends if ever the guarded walls around them both were to come to a crumble. But Rayage clung to his superiority, in a certain sense, his rhetoric and age. Wrenmae clung to his ambition, his immense progress in so short a time, and the mission he'd been charged with by Vayt.

Neither could be vulnerable to the other to the extent that might marry their differences and truly cultivate a relationship one might call true friendship.

They both held back.

"Don't think I'm not grateful for your high praise," the mage said with a nod, "But I would be the death of any offspring I took, any wife I joined." he trailed off with a shrug, "Such is the will of these 'child-like' divines you look so poorly on." He waved away the question before Rayage could ask. "It is no matter. I would trade a great deal for a throw at the divine. Just as you disdain them for the mess they made of Mizahar, I can identify that it was because of their power that they COULD make a mess at all."

He sat back then rocked forward, his hands clinging to each other. With hungry eyes he transfixed the nuit and spoke quickly, his words leaping over themselves.

"The world resists change now, Rayage. You have seen it as well as I. Sunberth has bickered and murdered any form of government for five hundred years. Zeltiva is still in the three tiered hands of different political parties. Syliras is ruled by knights, no one sits atop Alvadas, and I think mages are looked favorably upon in Lhavit. For five hundred years these cities have remained secluded and sequestered to themselves. They resist progress, they resist momentum." He jutted a thumb at his chest. "I am but a man, of limited means, time, and resources. If I were an Alvina I would force the world to turn again, to change and grow and seek."

The energy seemed to leave him and he rocked back to rest, sighing, "Perhaps I'm mad...who ever heard of a man becoming the divine? You say you were? Fine. I have no reason to distrust you...but it didn't stay, did it? Are we mortals so simple as to shrug the yoke of divinity like leaves shed dew?"

A sigh, cold laughter, "We choose, but who says it isn't in accordance with pre-written destiny? What if all our choices are but parlor tricks for the higher beings that seek to govern us? What say you to that, Rayage? If your 'free will' was simply orchestrated change, much as you charge your alchemy circle, then what is there left for us but the paths that were intended?"