The trees that reached for hoary Talderan clouds hushed for the silence that draped the scene. Nimvahlis did not immediately answer Pyxis’ queries, exploring the pebbles at his Benshiran feet. Relevant memories lay sprawled about Nim’s head, and his consciousness jumped about to reshape them into an expressable form. He did not exactly desire to relate the short tale, but for this brother of Leth he could do nothing less. Though Nim's mouth remained a flat line which spoke of how astronomically distant happiness was, he would have sooner grasped the sun.
Yet if he were to narrate to Pyxis, it would be done effectively. A timid voice mutely told him to shy away and dispel these thoughts, but far more alluring was the whisper that did not belong to Nimvahlis. Just this once, for Pyxis. His brother deserved to not only to hear the story, but to feel it. Brilliant energy would run through Pyxis like lightning, jolting his nerves to the edge with each emotion Nimvahlis delicately insinuated. Or so the whispers promised.
”I fell from the stars only last autumn, South of Ahnatep.” Djed twisted inside Nim, weaving itself into tight strands that his swamped his voice. The suggestive threads began weaving an invisible around Pyxis, wrapping him in the hypnotic Djed like a caterpillar’s spun chrysalis. It will be with new emotions that he emerges, even if it represents naught but a small dawn in an endless space. The threads flashed a pale gold color, evoking a sudden memory of decadent palaces and scheming, six armed Eypharians. He spoke as the image faded into an echo, ”I found myself foisted into their culture, disoriented by a lavish and complex lifestyle. My stay in the Ukalas left me ill prepared for the new world.” The threads began changing colors as a slight feeling of confusion slipped itself over and memory like a lens. A secret smile came unbidden to Nim’s lips as he felt Djed work itself through his body; the ways it played upon his senses could be likened to sex, a slow build up to climaxes that could be felt in the stars.
So I set out for the Northern reaches, to acquaint myself with this mortality I am forced to live out. I have traveled a great distance in a short time, and have found many of the atrocities of this world remain.” A deep depression wove itself about Pyxis as Nimvahlis spoke, a gentle reminder that discovery inevitably brought on sadness. ”Slavery still occurs, murders occur daily, and suspicion inundates everybody. These are things I had forgotten.” He allowed his Djed to slide from Pyxis, webs of influence resting for a brief instant on the precipice. Nimvahlis prepared to gently push his subject into the glittering silk, hopelessly entangling him in his influence.
”As for my memories of existence in Leth’s domain, they are veiled in a thick fog. I have many impressions, but even those cannot be expressed.” Nimvahlis finally lifted his eyes to meet Pyxis’, slightly shifting the topic, ”When I was in The Spires, I heard of a technique that allows one to recall memories from past lives. Perhaps one might learn said discipline and recall more vivid memories of the Ukalas. One day in the future I may return to learn this secret, though I find myself to be but a sapling in a world of ancients; I am not ready. If you so desire though, I would advise you to travel there and speak with the Jamoura. They may be of great help.” The smile had faded with Nim’s Djed, but pleasure from the casting gave his voice an inflection that struck somewhere between bitter and satisfied. ”Regardless, my story was indeed a short one, for I have not been returned for long. It is a sad notion that I have little more to relate”
Nimvahlis' mouth opened, a question poised on the tip of his tongue. But his senses seized as the crackle of brush caught his attention. The horse still idly grazed, Pyxis stood before him, everything was correct. But something has changed. Nimvahlis' eyes scanned the area, the brown of branches, the green underbrush, the gleam of metal. The Citrine Subject. Panic laced his veins, flooding his mind as the thought of this threat resurged to the front of his consciousness. Nim's eyes froze on the small length of metal he could see hiding in the bush, slowly shifting with the subject's heartbeat. How long would she follow him? When would the hunt cease?
It was not wise, splitting his djed between auristics and hypnotism, but Nimvahlis failed to recognize this. Redirecting his magic, the faint outlines of Pyxis' aura became apparent once more. Yet this time his eyes saw past his brother, gazing into the brush. Sure enough, as the Ethaefal focused on the area in the brush, a citrine flower bloomed. It's angry fractals shattered and coalesced about the vague form of a blade. The orange background became intermixed with the crimson hatred and deep, grey pain. There was no mistaking the aura, this was the Citrine Subject.
He glanced at Pyxis, and acted. His webs spun angry reds and fearful, shimmering blacks and wrapped around his brother's mind as the aura of his stalker faded. Turn! The thought burned itself into his mind, less thought and more instinct. The image of a woman crouched in the brush ready to strike flashed across his mind, the negative emotions telling Pyxis all he needed to know of her nature. His cords tugged and pulled at the man's visceral, gut emotions, urging him to respond to this threat he felt in the very back of his existence. Defend your life!. Pulling forth the last remnants of his Djed, Nimvahlis sent forth wave after wave of vengeance. The sickly violet hues of the emotion bombarding him, leaving Pyxis with the thought, they have come for me. Those he had hurt from his past had finally tracked him down, determined to exact revenge for their kin.
With wide eyes Nimvahlis stared at the woman in the bush, and harshly whispered "Save yourself". With that the Akvatari wheeled about and flitted into the sky, wiping away the blood that welled in his eyes and mouth.
by Pyxis on July 30th, 2010, 12:18 am 
