Closed Smile Like you Mean it (Wrenmae)

[Rayage]

Fall 30 512 AV

All the Rayage Layout :

It had been quite some time since he has been to Sunberth. Well, not a long time, but enough time to miss the city if one could do it. He had forgotten the jewel which he had built right before he left, All the Rayage. It was to be his shop, his business where he would sell his wares to the Sunberthan people to gain their confidence and respect. The entire shop was a scheme, a bit to get into the higher society of the ‘society’ if there was rightfully one. He would have power, respect, and all the money he could want. Then, he realized he didn’t want it.

No it wasn’t that he didn’t want power or respect, he did not want to be bogged down by titles of the annoying human customs or chaos of the city. This plan was a failure. Though now he has returned to the city as a transit trip to get to Sahova. It was Wrenmae who helped him accomplish this building, and so it was only right that they both enjoy it.

For all this time, almost a season and a half, the building had remained empty, but built. It was just a small estimate to the supposed wealth that the owner had. Although the citizens did not know this, Ray was in more debt than he wished to be in at the moment, and the shop wasn’t technically his until the bottom line reaches zero. However, the nuit did not let that fact bother him one bit. No, he was busy admiring the hard work and elegance which the miza had bought him.

Rayage had been spending quite some time in his office. He was sure that the room would be put to use one day when he actually got the shop up and running, but for now it was sparse of records or paper of any kind. The entire place had an eerie unlived feeling to it as it had not the chance to be filled with the hustle and bustle of everyday life quite yet. He often wondered if this place, his shop, would serve as a little getaway for him and his homunculus child whenever it was to be created. Away from the poison which was Sahova, away from the dangerous wizard games that he played, away from the university, away from the knights, away from reality. This place would become their heaven. One day…

Having made his way to the common room, the alchemist took a seat at one bench and looked at the empty room. It needed to be filled out, decorated, but that could wait for another time. Right now he was just glad to have a place to come back to, a place which sheltered him from the outside elements, and this place were definitely better than the pavilion he had. It had a rich feel to it, a lavish elegance, but yet it was empty. He could only imagine it when its filled with the riches of life.

With that he allowed himself to daydream about the possibilities, uncaring of where his companion had gone. He knew that he would be back, sometime, or so he hoped. He had offered him a place him to stay here, and although it doesn’t have a lavish bedroom it does have a sleeping quarter for any living guests which might populate the building. They too were not of the best quality, but everything else in the house was fantastic, or so it was in Rays opinion. Perhaps he should think about upgrading? No, not until his house is paid off.

[Wrenmae]

Heatbeats:

They

Punctured

The

Night.

Tha-Thump.

Tha-Thump.


Sunberth swam, every bit the illusion of Alvadas without the comforting whisper of home. Wren's world dove and bucked, weaved and fell. He was waves, crashing on some distant shore, pitching back and forth and then suddenly a boat, cast within the wrathful gaze of an angry Laviku. Stumble-drunk, pitch-clumsy, he was weary and excited all at once, spun on a foot...tumbled.

Behind him came the sound of metal, clash...clash.

Clash.

Clash.

The sound broke on his mind like chimes or bells, resounding gongs and quiet ringing. Behind him, Zan pivoted on his right foot, swinging away from a rusty gladius as it passed through the air where he'd been standing before. Turning, half-dreaming in his faltered skip-step, Wren whirled and leveled a palm at one murky figure dancing in and out of his vision like a mirage.

"NO!" Zan shouted back at him, "Get to Rayage! Now!"

Wren faltered, tried to speak, stumbled over words and sentences, crushing syllables and vowels together in an incomprehensible medley. Pushing onward, he fell to his knees...but did not realize it for several seconds, finding the air far more concrete than he'd ever felt it to be. So he swam there a moment, trying to give motion and meaning to a floor he thought was the sky.

And in this way he rammed into Rayage's door. From the courtyard the nuit could hear and almost feel the bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Wrenmae could barely think, could barely talk. Zan desperately kept the thugs at bay, but without full access to his skills, the familiar was not faring well.

Help. It was a word he thought he'd never speak to another. Not since he was younger, when naivety filled his eyes like quicksilver foolishness. Not now, desperately drugged and barely conscious.

And yet it was only Rayage, a partner from the days of Sunberth...when he was incomplete.

The nuits had their own agenda and his companion had always seemed aloof...distant, unconcerned.

But he had nowhere else to go.


Something inside him shuddered, and Wren tasted blood in his mouth.

Gods.

He had nowhere else to go.

[Rayage]

Time seemed to go by in a blink of an eye. Looking back over his long life, it didn’t seem too long at all. The endless research and search for the answer of life which eluded him for over five hundred years seemed to make up the majority of his existence. He had never thought of what comes after, of what will happen when after… after he has done the seemingly impossible. Up to this moment he hadn’t really had a chance, nor the desire to think about what happens next. About what happens after the homunculus is created. Sure he had a vague vision of happiness, but it wasn’t a picture. It was an idea, he wanted to be happy, and to be happy with his children. That is all.

Though would he settle for just that now? Would Sahova settle for just that? The thoughts sowed worry into his mind as he stared blankly in the sparse room. Could he get away and live a normal life, or will there be something more, something greater, another string attached to the bone which Sahova threw him? Most likely… He promised them an army, and this army was fueled by the selfish desire of one Professor of Alchemy wanting ever so much to have a child. Would he then lead a war? Resurrect Alahea? Would he be killed?

Though a sharp and brutal banging sound woke him from his thoughts, and moving once more, taking up a candle to light the way, Rayage walked to door despite the all too desperate sounds coming from outside. The banging noise increased as he made it to the main shop area. The nuit was slow, but relaxed as ever. Since his encounter with Miro he had been more laid back than usual. It was unsettling to him that he took something like this so calmly, but he unlocked the door and opened it.

Staring past the entrance he saw darkness. Looking around he heard the clanks of steel in the distance, and poked his head outside to look. There was a strict curfew in the Gated Community… The nights were usually quiet; he wondered who was foolish enough to break… He looked down and saw Wrenmae on the ground. He must have been the one making the entire ruckus with the door. Frowning down at him, he looked up as he heard shouts and armor closing in on the location. It was the Dragoons.

”Hurry.” Rayage told him, bending down to grab one of his arms in an attempt to help him be dragged inside. He strained as he tugged, he wasn’t the strongest person after all he was a corpse. ”You need to get inside. Where is Zan? He too.” Rayage told him, ”The Dragoons,” he motioned towards the warriors closing in on the location, ”will take care of those fools.” he said, looking at the skirmish about to be intercepted by the protectors of the Gated Community.

The nuit tried to help the man in to the home to the best of his abilities. He left the door open just a crack, enough for the fluid familiar to know the door is open and unlocked. With all this going on more sounds of metal on metal joined the fray. The Dragoons had intercepted the attackers. Hopefully Zan would be able to slip away unnoticed in the chaos of the fight.

When the nuit had him in, he took a moment to look the man over. It was so unlike him to appear this way. Dirty, bloodied. Probably his own, as he realized there a trail of blood outlining Wrenmaes path through the main shop area. His new shop area... Though he wouldnt immediately ask him questions, but instead reaffirm his safety with a smile, "You will be safe here with me." he said looking out the front of the shop window to see the fight was over and done with.

[Wrenmae]

Two had dared to follow the valued bounty into the gated community, but the unexpected arrival of the familiar had denied them the head they’d sought to claim. In retrospect, a regular poisoning would have worked wonders, but the hypnotist had only been fed an overdose of tranquilizer, admittedly dangerous, but not near enough to kill him outright. Zan fought them now, the long dagger in his hand flashing in the night. The first of the two brawny brutes brought his axe towards Zan’s face while the other flanked his side and aimed a blade for his guts. Zan intercepted the blade, pushing it aside as he leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding the edge of the axe.

The Dragoons arrived just in time, providing the distraction the familiar needed to slip back towards Rayage’s shop. He’d cut off his empathetic link with Wrenmae. The mage’s emotions were turmoiled and unfocused, lacking the usual edge of control he demanded to exert. Rayage struggled to pull the young man inside and Zan followed swiftly after, shutting the door behind them with a slam and a click.

Wrenmae’s lolled in Rayage’s grasp, hardly conscious enough to make sense of the situation. The nuit’s lightly concerned face floated in and out of focus, ebbing and flowing with the same surreal quality as the world around him. Once upon a time he had shaken that mage, crushed a glass under his foot. Once upon a time…

“Thanks a million,” Zan thanked Rayage with a quick grin, “We’re so popular in Sunberth, like the only lady at a ball…all the guys either want to stab us or drug us.” Winking, the familiar showcased his ability to understand coarse humor before dropping the dagger he held on the store floor.

“Lesson learned. Never drink from a cup you haven’t covertly had someone else taste first, but all’s well that ends without death so I suppose tonight was more of a success than anything else.” Wrenmae murmured nonsense, struggled against the heavy shackles of senseless exhaustion. Blood swam in his mouth, but the worst of it had died down. Any more of the chemical and he might not have lived…and he seemed to know that.

Zan watched him writhe, clutching at the air as if seeking a pillar of support to pull him from his state and sighed, shaking his head. “Guy’s gonna hate himself for letting you see him like this, you know.” Personally, Zan liked to think he and Rayage were closer now…especially since he’d saved the nuit’s hide back in the Wildlands.

“Anywhos, Brage, thanks for hosting us here…Wren needs a place he can call safe, even if he doesn’t quite trust the meaning of the word.” Brage was a name Zan had taken to calling Rayage. He’d never explained the origin of it to the nuit, but in his mind, the comparison was simple. A Nuit in its natural form was a white viscous liquid that then animated a corpse. Zan was a liquid himself and considered the nuit a locomotion challenged cousin of his, or an estranged brother. Rayage and Brother combined to Brage. Besides, Rayage was two syllables and Brage was one…ultimately superior to any other name configuration.

Pulling up two chairs, he set one for Rayage and the other for himself, sitting above Wren as the hypnotist labored to shed the poison. “Ya know, Brage, we don’t talk enough,” he said with a wide smile, “Talk to me, buddy cousin mine, what’s your greatest ambition?”

[Rayage]

Rayage was glad that the situation had been put to a swift end. He wondered how much of a fool the person on the ground was… seriously, who gets poisoned like that but foolish kings? If they knew they were ever so popular then they should have been more cautious. Looking away from the window the nuit turned back to Zan after he had pulled up two chairs, ”There are many ambitions in this heart of mine.” he answered him striding over the fallen wizard sprawled on the floor, ”Though before we get too caught up in ourselves we should tend to him, don’t you think?” he asked the familiar ignoring the chairs that he had pulled up for them.

”Through that door,” he pointed to the door at the very back of the room behind a nice counter which, in time, would display wares of all sorts, ”you will find the Common Room.” he instructed the familiar, ”Go through the door on your far right, and you will be in the kitchen.” he pointed in the direction of the kitchen, ”There should be another door. Though that one you will find a small Servants Quarters. In there are beds, six of them. Feel free to make him comfortable in one of them. Gods know I don’t need to use them.” he instructed the familiar, ”That should be more adequate than the floor.” he said staring down at the already bloodied wood. He hoped that it wouldn’t soak in and the polish of the floor will at least hold off some of it.

”Be mindful of his bleeding. While are you doing that, I’ll get something to clean this mess up.” he said with a frown. If normal water wouldn’t do the trick he would have to come up with a more creative solution. So, moving the chairs back to where the familiar got them, now obviously wasn’t the time for talking. Moving past Zan as if he expected the familiar to move without him being told, he ventured into the Common Room, and in one corner of the room he grasped at the floorboards to reveal a hidden stairway under the floor. Hurrying down the spiral staircase he found himself in his library. Moving through the place he made it to his Alchemy Lab. Taking a bucket from it, he retrieved some water from a barrel, and went upstairs again placing the trapdoor back down.

Grabbing a rag from the kitchen he made his way to the main shop part of the complex again, and wet his rag. Starting to clean the blood he took his time, hoping that it hasn’t done too much damage to his precious shop. What would people think when they see bloodstains at this shop? Unacceptable. Wrenmae would pay for this if it didn’t come all the way out. Scrubbing away at the trail of blood the wizard had dragged in there was an irritation in his pace, in the way he moved the rag, in the way he cleaned. The familars words bounced in his head about how the wizard would be ashamed to have seen him like that. Rayage did not care. Wrenmae could swallow his foolish pride.

Putting the rag in the bucket it was hard to see the progress which he made in the dark of night. He guessed in the morning he would inspect his work and decide what further needs to be done. Setting the bucket on the counter the nuit left it there as he grabbed a candle and moved out of the main shop area and into the Common Room. Taking a seat at one of the benches present the candle light flickered and pierced the darkness revealing the room to be rather spared of any decoration. When he took to moving in he would have to fix this. Right now all it had was the bare minimum of things. Over time he would fill it, of that he was sure. He wondered if the wizard who helped him build the place would also help him furnish it?

Waiting for the familiar to return, if Zan would, Rayage would stare at him, ”You asked about my greatest ambition earlier.” he said, ”I suppose that too is all a matter of perspective.” he answered him, ”For Sahova my greatest ambition is the creation of the homunculus race which will pave the way for war. If you count that as great then there is your answer. However, it is not my answer.” he told him, ”For over seven hundred years my greatest ambition has not been to create a homunculus. No, for over seven hundred years it has been my dream to create a family. I wanted, we wanted,” he corrected himself, ”to have the children that fate denied us. Isn’t it cruel that fate would withhold something so dear to a couple?” he asked him. ”Though a lot goes into having a family. You need money, patience, time, food, water, love.” the last word was barely a whisper, speaking up again he continued, ”The most important thing is safety.” he told the familiar. ”One cannot live a good life without feeling safe. This world isn’t safe.” he told him, ”Wrenmae is a fine example of that.”

He fell silent as if pondering something to tell the Familiar, ”May I ask you, how well do you actually know the person you are bound to?” he asked him, ”Do you know what really drives him?” he asked, ”I think he keeps things from even you.” he pointed it out, ”Hard as that may be, it still is possible… Though when you look at him you don’t see anything. Do you understand what I mean, familiar?” he asked.

[Wrenmae]

"Aye Brage, aye, I'll move the sweet prince to his lavish...cot." Dragging Wrenmae under the armpits, the familiar brought him through the path Rayage had pointed out. He took care to lay the wizard in a bed, pulling a blanket over him and delicately making sure he was both breathing and resting easy. For a moment, Zan lingered over his companion, silently watching his chest rise and fall. There was a peacefulness to the mage when he slept, a sort of peace Zan had never seen in any other circumstance on Wrenmae's face. All the hard lines of frustration or anger...ambition and cruel joy, they fell from his face and he was as a beautiful carving, pale, breathing, but whole in a sort of untouched way that almost made having a physical form desirable.

Almost.

Zan returned to the room and watched Rayage scrub the blood from the floor. When the nuit paused to look at him, the familiar met his stare with one of his own. Tired eyes met curious ones and together they held a lock as Rayage spoke of his ambitions. Zan was silent through it all, even when the topic deviated. He watched the dead body contort, facial features never as clear to him as the nuit's voice was. He had heard controlled panic, heard rage, hold that cold distant disdain the nuit seemed to hold for everyone, even his interest and curiosity...but this longing, this quiet last word 'love' held between tongue and lips as if it almost did not want to emerge...this was new.

When he'd finished, Zan smiled. He had learned from somewhere that smiles were supposed to put other fleshbags at ease...he tried one on now, a small one. His large ones only scared people.

"My name is Zan," Zan said, "Not 'familiar'. You'd think a guy would be more courteous to his savior. Your name isn't 'nuit' either. We may be from different worlds, but that does not mean we are unequal. You can't even fly, float, or manipulate your true form...pretty poor example of control if you ask me."

He trailed off, looking down at his hands and clenching them. "I don't know what war is, something with violence, right?" Glancing up at Rayage, Zan's face worked through the complex facial features he had no idea how to use, "Seems a little cruel, doesn't it? Bringing a child into the world and then sending it to fight...it's like your two ambitions contradict each other. You can't have one without abandoning the other."

Outside it began to rain, light drops on the windows, pattering on the roof. A thousand million tiny Zan's committing suicide against the store.

"When my kind grow large enough, we simply split in half...and new life begins. It took awhile for me to understand the concept of a 'parent'...never had one, ya know? I am my father, or at least half of him. I guess that bond is important to your kind, right? I guess I don't get it...is having a child like keeping a pet?" He scratched his chin, and then shook his head, "No, no, then it wouldn't be so important...I guess no matter how much I try, I'll never get you creatures."

He frowned, as if trying out the expression. "You and Rayanne, right? I remember the confrontation in your study...room...thing. I remember a lot of stuff Wren doesn't think I do. Sometimes I think he doesn't take me seriously enough."


Watching the nuit for reaction, he continued, "I know that Wren's a lot like you, Brage...you lost all the important stuff to you and he lost all his...most before I was even part of the picture." He sighed, slumping, "And then it's like no matter where he goes, who he meets, who he cares about...they either die, wither, hate, or use him for some purpose. I think..."

Pausing, Zan glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting Wrenmae to be standing there, listening.

He wasn't.

"I think Wren is the most hateful person in the whole wide world. Everyone has a way to carry on, find new beginning. Not him. Wren is...unique, cursed I guess. There is no new beginning for him, there never will be, and I think he hates everyone a little for that...because he's so done hating himself."

Throwing up his hands, Zan twisted his features into frustration, doing a passable job till he scrunched up his nose, making the whole thing ridiculous. "I wish I could help him, Brage, I do. But all I can be is his friend and try to steer him in the right direction, right? I mean, guy's got a lot of baggage...and I gather that he's young for a fleshling, super young for that sorta stuff."

He stood, paced, sat again, always moving, always twitching. "You don't have a kidling, right? Well Wren doesn't have a parents...parent? Pahrant? Parahnt? Whatever. No one stays long and those that do don't care enough to get inside his head. I mean, I can do that...telepathy thing. Oh! And live in his stomach! it's a perk of being me, and being awesome. Also edible and delicious."

He pursed his lips. "Totally not an invitation."


"Anyways, I think Wren is going to burn the world down around him. He's super strong, Brage, super magic strong...like, more than he lets people know. But all he has is hatred to fuel that power...and soon, I think he's gonna lose the last thing that makes him human."


A real frown this time, and there was worry in Zan's eyes.

"Hope."

[Rayage]

Rayage just watched Zan, his silly unpracticed facial features, ”Zan,” he started off, ’You do not have to practice being human with me. Although facial emotions are used to better send the message it is not needed when talking to a nuit.” he told him, ”I have had over seven hundred years of practice talking to people. I am sure I can get the message without such… signs”

”You are also right. The two ambitions at first glance do seem to contradict each other, and yes, war is a violent thing, but I expect it to be swift with the level of knowledge Sahova has. Not too much suffering or pain seen on the grand scale of things… Anyways, Ive gotten off track; my goals are not contradictory. In fact I can have them both, as I can’t have one without the other. You see, this world is dangerous. It always will be, but with Sahovas help we can make this place a little less dangerous. War breeds peace.” he told the familiar, ”War is necessary for peace on a larger scale than these cities. War unifies people, and breeds innovation and invention. War is inherently good, if I must use that term.” he said

”Finally with the world at peace I can have the family I dream of. “ he smiled at the familiar, ”You are right in the assumption that the parent-child bond is important. It has been the thing motivating me for centuries. I imagine having a child is one of the greatest things to ever happen. It’s a blessing, something that depends on you, loves you, makes you feel needed, and fulfills you. The child represents a future and hope, dreams… It brings a sort of happiness that only parents can experience. One day, Zan, I hope Wrenmae settles down and gets a child of his own. I have a feeling you would be good with them.” he told him, his happiness unnatural of him, and he was sure that if Wrenmae was here he would have noticed it. The nuit wasn’t as dark or arrogant as he has been known to be. Perhaps this was a different side to him?

The Alchemist listened to the familiar compare both him and Wrenmae, and then when he stopped Ray would lean in as if all too interested to hear what he had to say. What came out of the familiars mouth made him laugh. Though beyond that he kept his silence as Zan expressed his emotions in an all too physical way, distorting his face and throwing his hands up in the air. Though all the nuit did was listen, and watch, absorb what the other was saying. This creature was so interesting to talk to. The way he said his words, phrased things… The nuit had no intention of eating the watery creature.

When Zan finished the nuit let everything which was said sink in, ”I believe you are overlooking something important.” he told him straight up, ”Wrenmae has not lost everything important to him as I have. He still has you.” he nuit pointed at him, ”If he loses hope then you can be his hope, and I don’t think he has quite lost everything yet. He has a passion in him. This passion however is directionless, chaotic, and lost. So lost in the dark… Wrenmae is looking for a light, and he will foolishly follow any light which shines near him. This is proven by his following of me. He is looking for a light, a direction to direct his passions towards, a goal, a story to tell. Yes, Zan, he is still looking for that story, but he has merely lost his parchment on which to write it on, and in search for this purpose he will go to great lengths to find it. You see him descending deeper and deeper, don’t you? You can feel it too, I bet…”

”I am quite aware of how powerful Wrenmae is, and it is concerning that he is using his power unwisely. You know, such reckless use of magic is likely to get him killed, or worse.” he said ominously. ”There are forces in this world more powerful than the gods themselves, even fate. These forces can be observed in gods and humans alike. These forces are what drive each and every one of us, that lead to the rise and fall of man, these forces are more than emotions, more than the gods themselves can control for even beings as powerful as them still fall victim to its power. Emotions, thoughts, sentience itself are cursed by its very nature. That is what these forces are called: Sentience.”

”The thing about Sentience is that Wrenmae possesses it, and sentience can be affected by change. As long as there is change anyone can turn a new leaf.” he told the familiar, ’The power of change effects everything and everyone at every moment in time. Change is the force that drives time forward, and without it nothing would ever happen. As long there is change there can be hope, and with hope,” he looked at the familiar, ”then humanity doesn’t seem so lost does it?” he asked.

”Wrenmae can change, know this Zan. Everything is subject to its power, and nothing escapes it, even the timeless nuit.” he laughed, ”Alchemy is a great example of change. If you look at the circle and the process then you can see the Alchemist as an agent of change and transformation. At the moment the alchemist activates the alchemy circle he controls and is able to direct the force of change, however limited it is by the chargers. Though again, alchemy isn’t that great of an example of change. You know why?” he asked trying to get the familiar to think things through, ”Because change does not have to be dramatic. Sure change can happen in the blink of an eye, just like the valterrian, but change is also a slow and gradual force most of the time, building up over time, going almost unnoticed by those who don’t reflect on the past.”

”You can lead Wrenmae in the right direction, but you can also be more forceful than that. I have not lived over seven centuries by passively acting, Zan. Just keep hope, that is the strongest thing you can do, and push little by little. Change rarely happens overnight if that is what you are hoping for. Start small, work your way in, work your way up. I have found that the magic Hypnotism is superb in supporting and suggesting change to occur. Im not asking you to use magic on your partner, but that is an option, and one that I think you cannot ignore. With it you might be able to heal him, however artificial it may seem… The thing about that is reality is all perspective, and if you believe something so much, then it is real, at least to you. It can turn to reality. That is the true power of hypnotism.”

[Wrenmae]

Zan absorbed everything with a completely slack face. The moment he'd been told to drop his emotional acrobatics, he'd lost any sense of it at all. For a being comprised of ever flowing djed and liquid, emotion was not a feature but a facet, something to be heard or felt but never seen. It was not as though Zan was not reacting to the words, his eyes followed the nuit intensely and his maniacal fidgeting slowed to the point of almost eerie stillness.

He watched.

He listened.

And so it was all the more shocking, without facial expressions to convey the ocean of his emotion, that he acted.

Standing up sharply, Zan took a step forward and kicked the bucket Rayage had been using to scrub the floor across the room and into the wall. It clattered off of it, bouncing and rolling across the floor.

"Sahova?" the familiar said, and his voice was cold, almost mocking, "Oh yes, war from the hands of the dear departed, a bunch of ichor and bodies to rule the living. So you march with your war-childlings and your 'higher thinking'. What then is the fate for those you abandoned when you first became what you are?" He upended the chair, his face almost disturbingly calm. As with all his kind, Zan did not convey his displeasure through any way but the way he'd known how. Action and voice were his tools, and he used them now to voice his displeasure in a more volatile way than twisting features ever could. "The living are treated poorly in Sahova, you said it yourself. So we play pet and master, huh? A population to each nuit to do as they please. Sahova? You work for Sahova? Why? They're monsters, Brage, monsters like Wrenmae is sometimes, like Rhysol is, like Vayt is...all you stupid skin-shamblers care about is your precious progress. When one...fight...thing...war was it? is over, you'll just fall into another. You enable the least with the most."

His foot dug into the wall, he punched a table, put both hands under it, flipped it and turned back. "You need a child? Wren needs a parent. I'm a goddamn Sarawanki! I have no idea what all this nonsense is even about! I'm just that startlingly dashing fellow that makes his home in his head...sometimes stomach. You spend all those many-moons thinking and thinking and your solution is to give the keys of control to things that have forgotten how to live? You're mad. Crazy! Insane! Ludicrous! Raving! Lunatic! And then you'll settle down with a tassle of fleshlings to lick your feet with blood-mouths and ask you to tell them stories of what the world was like when people were happy...or, I dunno, gurgle or something. I dunno what babies do, or what a homunculus is, but you're just like Wren. Self focused, blind, and a total petcher."

Taking up the dagger he'd dropped, Zan loomed over Rayage, bringing the blade down between his legs, quivering, caught in the wood of the chair. "Then you tell me to manipulate Wren with the magic that you KNOW broke his mind once. What do you think I am...stupid? I've seen a world where the very air was fire and its opposite is ice. I have stood in the presence of gods! I am not lesser than my master, and you are not his friend."

Zan fell backward from Rayage, heavily in his chair. The whole thing rolled backward and spilled the familiar onto the ground, where he rolled in a tumble. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

"All of you dead are the same. You want nothing but your own ambitions. You care nothing for anyone else. It's like the whole change-ification stole all the light from your hearts and killed it, rolled it up and threw it away."

He was quiet for a small time.

"No one exists who will save Wren. I can only be his friend, but even those he counts on see him as a tool, or a moth, dancing around those pretty light things. You'd sell him to slavers if it meant your precious Homunculus or your stupid war. He respects you, cares about you, and all you can do is curse him for bleeding, insult him, and tell me to hypnotize him into submission. Howsabout we make a deal then, dead man."

Zan pulled himself up to a sitting position, the tone of his voice made almost more disturbing by the absence of visible emotions. "We get to Sahova, do our little thing, and then you betray him. Sell him out. Send him away. He won't listen to me, he needs you to do it. If there's even a shred of humanity left in you, you'll betray him...give him no reason to trust your stupid, heartless kind again and I promise I won't let him interfere with your work."

He picked the other dagger off the floor, tossing it from hand to hand, "What's the loss of one moth, fluttering too close to your flame, huh? Mister big important nuit, gonna sell the world to the dead so he can coddle a fleshling that should have never existed. Captain Bigshot, Lord big and bad himself. What's this? A Letter? It's from Rhysol. It says. Dear Corpsey, love your direction. War and stuff is awesome, it makes me smile all over my big stupid face. Please make more and keep being a self involved petcher. Love and sunshine and chaos forever. Rhysol."

He fell back again, head smacking against the ground.

"Owwww" he groaned, "I blame this on you."

[Rayage]

Throughout Zans entire ‘rampage’ the nuit was motionless. He was merely taking it all in, absorbing every word, every action, every delusional statement that came from the being from the other world. In the end when the familiar fell backwards and even blamed hitting his head on him, the nuit couldn’t contain himself anymore. He laughed, and laughed. It was a long dry, but joyous laugh. Though as quickly as it came from him it stopped, as if the whole thing was an act to get a point across, ”Were you even listening to what I said?” he asked, ”All you did was focus on the parts you didn’t like and then try to force some ‘morals’” he said the word with a bit of disgust, ”onto me. Is that all you are capable of? Is that the curse you bear?” he asked, ”All you do is focus on the negative when I gave you plenty of options, plenty of sunshine and rainbows. If anything, you are the petcher for being so quick to judge. Is this something you have learned from Wrenmae?” he asked, pointing at everything that he done, ”It is improper. It is childish, it is unacceptable. It is this train of thought that dooms us all for a life in darkness. It is this train of thought which condemns you to a preordained fate. It is this reasoning, this ‘logic’ that you hold that is flawed.”

”I thought you didn’t know what war was? No matter,” he shook his head, ”from your ramblings it sounds like it is you, Zan, who has given up on hope. No one exists who will save Wren?” he quoted the familiar in the last sentence, ”You are pathetic. Go ahead and blame me, blame everything on me, but that will not change what has been. I do not care, I will shoulder all the blame but it does change a thing. Seeking someone to blame… That is what children do.” he smirked, ”The living really don’t know anything, do they? Your delusions of peace cannot be obtained in the manner you wish it to be. The truth of this world is hard to swallow, I know, but eventually you will get it down. You are living in a fantasy afforded to you by a broken man who has taken you into this world.”

”Within this fantasy of yours you can make brave assumptions, like I would actually hand the world over to Sahova. Are you an idiot?” he asked, ”This will be the war to end all wars. The world will know true peace from the restoration of Alahea. Sahova will be a beacon of knowledge and power, a pillar of support for the entire world. With Sahovan knowledge of the past we can move forward together. You stupid people who cannot see past the initial conflict to the end results… Such arrogance comes from you when you get all hot and bothered and try to uphold ‘morals’. Let me tell you that ‘good’ and ‘evil’ are just human concepts, artificial thought constructs which are used freely to label everything. They are concepts of control, of manipulation! They are used to outline acceptable and unacceptable, they are used to hinder continuous growth and development. They are useless. In my world good and evil shall not be. There only will be what is.”

”You who have limited life spans tend to forget that history repeats itself. It is because mankind forgets. They forget the hurt and anguish of war, they become arrogant in peace, they become secure in it. They become deluded, and misguided, and with it is sown the seeds of chaos once more. The nuit have not forgotten. The nuit do not forget such events. Sahova has not forgotten what war is. Humanity has, but the dead have not. We will be there, constantly reminding the people of what conflict is, what a tragedy war is, and with this education, with this knowledge, history shall not repeat itself and the world will be in everlasting peace.”

”I do not appreciate you making a mess of my home.” with that statement he sounded dead serious, ”You will clean all of this up.” he told him looking around at the water spilled everywhere.

[Wrenmae]

“Clean it yourself,” Zan said to the ceiling, “It’s just water and some upended furniture.” For another moment or two he was still, completely, and then sat up and breathed nosily through his nose. He rightened the table and ripped the dagger out of the chair Rayage was sitting on. The nuit had lost that human quality he had before, that uncharacteristic weakness. Instead, a shadow of superiority had descended on his shoulders. Like Wrenmae, Rayage was too ground into his beliefs, nailed to his ‘experience of centuries’ to do any more than react to all the supplications Zan had intoned. They disagreed on a philosophical level, but it didn’t change the nature of his request. The Familiar had asked Rayage to give some concern or care for his partner and the nuit had, nonplussed, told him to do it himself.



As if the corpse man didn’t understand the meaning of asking for help.



“I’ve seen evil, and it has a name,” Zan said quietly, “Maybe one day it will wear yours as well." His head lolled on his shoulders, swiveling slowly as if he needed to test every muscle beneath the skin.

"Alahea…the old once nation city sorta place, right? Your fleshlings have to give a name to everything, don’t you? Change is alchemy, but you’d never have picked it up if you were satisfied with how things were.” Zan’s mood had fallen, and he spoke with a forlorn sort of weariness. It suffused his voice and posture, pulling the energy from the room in the wake of the volatile reaction. “You deadlings always think you know more cause you walked around longer…and I mean all you deadlings, never met a nuit who didn’t think itself superior somehow.” He lay down on the floor again to stare at the ceiling, “You’re all just people, though, and even if you don’t forget, you’re not immune to the same ‘ignorance’ or, I dunno, forgetfulness you penalize humanity with. You can dismiss the ‘not long lived’ all you want but I remember what Wren read. Nuits didn’t build a nation, the thing you’re trying to restore was broken up by gods, but it was never your nation…your kind, at least.”



His head lolled to one side. “You can say what you want, Mr. Creates-kidlings-for-war, but sometimes I pick up on things that are already in Wren’s head. Dunno how to explain it, but I know what war’s about now, or at least his understanding of it. Familiar bonds are weird like that, huh? Anyways, it’s clear to me that you’re only interested in Wren for his competency in protecting you…it’s a job, like a contract, and nothing else.”



The entire replicated body shimmered, all the defined lines melting away, shifting, till all that remained was a dark hued puddle where Zan had once been. His voice still issued forth from the floorboards though, distorted now.



“Sorry about your floor, our kind expresses emotions differently than you fleshlings. Water will dry, cause it always does and we can pretend this little whatchamacallit never happened.”



A sigh issued up from the floor boards as Zan sunk between the cracks, “You think I’d ask help from a nuit unless I’d tried it myself? I’m just more eerily convinced that ya’ll are like slightly more emotional stones..and not the Kirt kind, although I guess there’s a good comparison in there…somewhere…or whatever.”