Closed Ocean to Forest

[Lacerta]

Spring 58th, 458 AV
The Silverwood

Lacerta had only arrived in Mura a few days ago, and the marvelous was still amazing her. It almost rivaled Lhavit in beauty… but the eastern city reminded her so much of her celestial home that it could never be beaten. Still, the friendliness and general calmness of the Island city made her feel much more comfortable than any of the previous cities had. Especially Sunberth. That had been an experiment gone wrong. She sighed irritably at memories of the chaotic city… but shook them off. She needed to enjoy the nature, and the world around her. Mura would be good for her… and certainly a new experience. She was expecting it to rival Abura in artistic magnificence, so was curious to see how well it did. Of all the cities she’d visited… she certainly had favorites. Lhavit, Abura, and Riverfall were all magnificent… and she wanted to see where Mura fit on the spectrum. It was amazing how large the world was, and it would be good to explore while she could. The years had gone by quickly… and she didn’t know when everything would change.

She’d found herself in what could be called the ‘wilds’ of Mura… but it wasn’t really. She was in the coniferous forest that apparently covered most of the island. “The Silverwood” one Konti had called it. They’d been quite helpful in explaining the basics of the city to her, and she marveled at how well… organized it was. Full of a peaceful, long-lived race that had an affinity to the truth, there was little to no crime, nor any prejudice. In fact, quite a few of the pale race had been more than welcoming to the Ethaefal… but that wasn’t saying much. Most people were amazed by the Eth… it was just the way things were. They were a celestial race, as close to the gods as you could get, though… fallen, of course.

She wandered through the marvelous forest, shuffling her feet through the fresh grass, and patting some of the rough pine trees. Their needles were a beautiful green at the moment, though someone had mentioned they changed color with the seasons… this, she needed to see. They were practically like her horns, actually, which were a Lilac color at the moment. Her hair was less of an original color, a brownish-blond that was similar to that of some Konti’s she’d seen… though most had even paler, whiter hair. Though she had to admit they were quite mono-color… it added a sense of melancholy beauty… which was oddly enough represented equally in the Akvatari with their vivid coloring. It was strange how some things enacted moods… but it was just like music. Different tones, speeds, tempos and notes had different moods and feelings that went with them. It was her large job as a composer to come up with the right tone to fit what she wanted the song to sound like… it was the hardest part.

She found a small grove of trees, one with a thick bed of moss at its base. It was there that the Ethaefal sat, letting the green vegetation cushion her seat. It was nice to see so much… solidness… after days at sea. Leaning against the thick trunk, she sighed, before setting down her music book and flute. Curling her long legs to cross them, the composer picked up her instrument, raising it to prepared lips. She blew a few experimental notes, adjusting her mouth along the head to correct the pitch. She’d always been able to identify when a note was… wrong. It was an innate feeling, really. She’d discovered most people couldn’t do this, but it simply gave her more of an affinity to music in general… which was a very nice feeling. She practiced a scale, starting with no fingers, and going up and down twice. She then started another kind of scale… a more complicated, and annoying one.

She mentally set herself a bar. Each note would be an eighth, so she’d be able to fit an entire scale into it. However, instead of playing it outright… she started with the first note. She waited for the bar to finish, then played the first and second notes. Then the first three… four… five… and so one. As the pauses quickly grew shorter, it grew easier, and when she reached the top… she went all the way back down again. Finishing, she knew she’d messed up in several parts… specifically the beginning. She had waited too long to blow, annoyingly, and knew that had set her off. However, this was harder when in a group, as everyone had to be able to keep the same tempo and pace… which was entirely the challenge.

She sighed, playing the scale once over again. She felt the instrument begin to warm with her breath, and began to find it a little easier after the warm up. Smiling, Lacerta flipped to a page in her book and help it open with a bare toe (she’d removed her boots) and glanced over the music. She’d been practicing this one on her boat the day before… much to the delight of one Konti girl, who’d ended up clapping at the end. However, she’d only been practicing, and the song had been a botched version of what it could have been. Now, she planned on perfecting it…

[Kuvarakh]

"Linika would have loved this..." The Nuit said to himself sadly, the memory of his murdered daughter ever-present in his thoughts. "Raellen too." he added, a flush of shame at the realization that his wife had taken a lesser place now. It was not fair, he could not account for it. He still loved his wife every bit as much as his daughter. He could only think that his wife, dying in childbirth after their many years, both courting and married, had impressed a sense of satisfaction on him before she died. When he imagined them, looking down on him, he somehow always pictured the smile on Raellen's face to be happier than Linika's.

But that had changed when he had taken that special class at the University of Zeltiva. There had been a serious accidental affect exchanged between himself and a fellow student, Andrik. And the process needed to restore them was a direct violation of restrictions regarding live subject alchemy.

He heard later that heads had rolled as a result, but they were happy heads, happy to roll. But more personal to him, his mental affinity to equate the spinning djed stream of an alchemical transmutation into a visual ocean maelstrom developed then. And somehow, it allowed a strange sense of connection to her. She had died at sea, at the hands of a murderer, a Nuit like himself...

No, not like himself...he was beginning to think there might be no Nuits quite like him. He still loved life, respected life, encouraged life, and the living of it. He wanted to improve life, not just his own, but everyone's. And this feeling surged in his soul every time he performed alchemy. The djed stream visually morphing into a whirlpool as he embraced the sense of his daughter's presence in the water, helping him succeed with the transmutation. Proud of him every time.

A bittersweet smile did its best to grace his face. His thoughts turned suddenly to Andrik. it puzzled him somewhat. Why had he thought of his lute playing old fellow student? Then it became clear. There was music on the breeze. It wasn't the lute Andrik played, but something lighter and purer. 'A flute.' he realized. 'Or something like it.' It seemed almost like a part of the atmosphere, as though the leaves on the trees must have curled to the extent that the wind whistled through them in clear tones.

It only added to the wondrous sense he felt here. But he knew he was out of place here. An island devoted to life and healing. And here was, the very embodiment of walking death. Yet the inhabitants, the Konti, did not make him feel unwelcome. He could not fail to notice that their demeanor rang a bit more genuine among others, but they were courteous enough.

'How can there be such danger and death out there when such places as this exist also?' He sighed as the word 'balance' came unbidden to his mind as he made his way in the general direction of the flute.

[Lacerta]

Lacerta had been trying to perfect the first line of her song… but was failing. She simply couldn’t switch fingerings quickly enough to keep up with the right tempo… so her tonguing and note changing were off… a great annoyance. Scowling at the page, she played through that one picky bar several times, and nearly crowed in delight as she got it once. However, that was a rarity, and after playing the same bar over and over… she only perfected it three times.

She decided to give up on that bar, calling it a hopeless endeavor, and started from the beginning. She played through the slow, gradually building start, before moving onto the more challenging solo section… she’d added drum part to this, for the fun of it, but had never actually gotten someone to play it. Instead, she stuck with the part she could play. Maybe one day she’d learn how to play the drums, or another instrument… maybe even here, or if she went back to Abura. Though she had plenty of time to master her flute, it would be nice to hone another skill. Musing on that for a moment, the Eth suddenly realized she’d stopped playing. Cursing herself for her stupidity, she took up the song again.

However, the next time she stopped, she had a more logical reason for doing so. A figure was coming through the trees. A Konti? No… wrong coloring. And they were a man… major difference. She frowned at the man, wondering what they were doing on such an all-female island. Probably some kind of merchant or something… she honestly had no clue. Maybe there for rest and respite, like she was? She was also hoping to ply her trade… but didn’t know how well that would go. She watched the man approach for a little while longer, before setting down her flute in the grass.

”Hello. Might I ask what you are doing here…?” When she could finally see her new companion’s features properly, she frowned in confusion. He didn’t look right. He looked… sick. Sleepy eyes, and a pale face. Maybe he was here for the Konti’s famed healing powers and waters? It was possible. She still didn’t like it, however. She felt like she’d seen someone like this before, but couldn’t quite place where.

”Also, I’m curious… what would you be doing in a place like Konti Isle? I only recently arrived, and I wish to know other’s reasoning for coming… other than it is simply a beautiful place, of course.” Despite her general want to be polite, the man’s appearance slightly put her off. It was just… odd, and a little… creepy? Most of his body looked fine, but his eyes? It looked like he hadn’t slept for a season. ”I am Lacerta, by the way. A daughter of Syna” she introduced herself politely, not seeing any logical reason not to… other than being plain out rude, of course… and she didn’t want that. She knew the island was one of calm, reasonable people, and doubted this newcomer - or was she the newcomer? – was anything… less than honest.

[Kuvarakh]

Kuvarakh stopped, smiling when the woman before him did not upbraid him for interrupting her. For now it was pretty clear she was only practicing scales and timing. "Well, all I am doing right now is listening to you practice. I had feared you might shimmer and fade into the scenery with my intrusion, as you seem mystical, like this whole place."

He found a tree with a trunk at an accommodating angle and sat against it. He read her expression, seeing the ever-familiar unease. His smile saddened slightly. "If I may be so bold, I expect you mean what am I, a male, non-Konti, and strangely at odds with these vibrant surroundings, doing here?" He did not wait for an answer. "I seek healing of a sort. But not of the body, that is...dealt with...differently for...my kind." He found it difficult to hold her gaze as he said this.

"I came here, not too terribly long ago, seeking an audience with the goddess. I am sick at heart." he saw a twitch in her expression and let slip a laugh. "I expect I look to be inflicted with a more all-encompassing illness than just that, eh?" She looked as though she may be embarrassed by his observation, so he waved it off with a dismissive wave and shake of the head.

"It is alright. It is a common enough conclusion, for I AM more sick than that. I became what I am, with what I held to be an honest and benevolent purpose, but I have come to question it of late. I have a mission, and I had thought the gods would guide me, but they have been noticeably silent to my prayers. I wonder now if they listen to ANY of my kind. I think that once this die is cast, the "player" removes himself from those paths that lead to the gods. Maybe even Lhex himself."

"This is what I wished to ask of the goddess. Not for her help with my original purpose, but just to know if, by altering my natural born...condition...If I am no longer recognized by my soul. But I fear that her lack of response to my entreaty is answer enough." He now looked at her directly, taking a breath, as if steeling himself for her loathing. "I am a Nuit. Are you familiar with that term?"

[Lacerta]

Lacerta felt a small smile grow on her lips at man's first statement... it was very fluid and oddly poetic, and completely relaxing. She had to agree with the forest seeming mystical... it was indeed remarkable. Everything on Konti Island was strange in some way or another... on her way there, a squirrel had simply run straight by her feet, some kind of nut held tightly in it's mouth. It had been a surprising but quite interesting experience, and she'd spent a while watching the small creature scurry through the needles until it had moved out of sight.

His explanation of healing was strange... and once again that mention of his kind. He did look sick, but apparently that wasn't important, from further comments. She patiently waited for an explanation, and listened to his story with interest. When he finally spoke the word 'Nuit', she suddenly remembered the man's race. She didn't think she'd actually met any of them, but had certainly heard of them. The stories had been of a mixed variety, but this man seemed to be more on the positive side of the spectrum. He was quite philosophical, from his speech, and actually seemed to fit in quite well with the Konti here. It was interesting, to say the least...

She smiled up at the man, resting her flute on her legs. "I do know your race... and though I have heard some... less than positive tales, you do not seem to live up to them. My reasons for being here are much more minor than your own. I am here simple to see the sights, and understand Konti culture... and of course, to enhance my musical skills. I have heard that the pale race widely encourages the arts of all kinds, so I decided to see if this was true... and if I can learn anything more." She shrugged, before unfolding her long legs and stretching them.

"I have heard that the needles on these pines change colors with the seasons... do you think it's true? Or have you seen it for yourself? It is indeed a remarkable place... the animals don't run away at all." The Ethaefal shook her head in pure amazement, a wry grin on her face. Though she'd been to some stressful places recently, and as much as the sea relaxed her... Mura seemed to do that on a massive scale. It was simply so calm and peaceful here. If she wanted to find solitude, she could easily... and practice her music at any time she wished.

[Kuvarakh]

He laughed a little more. "Thank you, but I think you mean 'living down to them." His laugh faded and there was a silence, broken only by the intangible thrum of life. Life in the air, in the wood, and in the water. "I think the unflattering tales you hear of Nuits are probably a more accurate representation of the majority of them than me, with my morose reminiscing. I may be a decent enough fellow, but I don't know what I'm doing this for now. I know I don't want to be like those cold bastards in Sahova. But at least they know what their purpose is, however self-serving and insensitive they are."

She seemed to want to change the subject. He could hardly blame her. He too was amazed at the idyllic nature of this island. But it was an amazement tempered by a sense that he didn't belong, or wasn't intended to enjoy it. But he didn't know why he should be excluded. His intent was entirely in favor of life. He was not one of these tunnel-visioned, djed grasping power mongers, opting for the eternity of Nuit existence only so they could continue to build their power to higher and higher degrees of tyrannical mastery.

All he wanted was to find some way to mend the rift between Nuits and mortal races. His daughter, Linika, had been murdered by a Nuit. He'd come to discover that the killer was being hunted and took her as a "disguise" of sorts, so he could hold up for a couple of days and then reach the ship that was going to leave Zeltiva, bound for Sahova. Then some rival Sahovan mage, also a Nuit, had killed the man, doing severe reimancery damage to the vessel in the process. So the death of his daughter was in perfect, heartbreaking, vain.

When the anguish and rage had spent itself, he pondered the position the killer had been in. Kuvarakh's attitude had partially reversed itself, thinking it to be understandable that this...entity...like any other predator (and he had no illusions that all humans are not predators to some degree), was forced into a corner, and did what he had to do to survive.

No, he did not condone it. The man had chosen to become the thing he was, so if he killed to survive, it was still murder. Kuvarakh would gladly crush the monster's skull, given half a chance. But the mob, if they had left him alone, would not have created this need for a disguise. So they bore a measure of fault as well. Truly, it was some old Alahean wizard, tasked to create some dreadful new war strategy that was originally responsible, or so he had read while enrolled at the University of Zeltiva.

So Kuvarakh had embarked on an obsession to find a way to extend the duration of a Nuit's body, to eliminate their need to obtain new bodies, as a way of bringing meaning to Linika's death. Eventually, he realized that there was no way he'd live long enough to see it through. So when he found a Nuit Alchemist willing to give him the transformation, he decided to do it.

The irony was not lost on him, but he felt his motivation justified it. And it also gave him a sense that he would now be able to judge the one that had killed his daughter, since he would now learn what it was like to be one. So little had happened to let him feel his decision had been well considered, and so much to make him loathe himself.

Not the least of which, the fact that the Nuit that gave him the transformation turned out to be a murdering monster, storing the dead bodies of University students long-since missing, for later habitation. One of these was the body of the son of the man who was to be his NEXT master. A man named Aldren Trask. The man who had then introduced Kuvarakh to hypnotism. The man Kuvarakh came to respect more than any other. The man, on whose behalf Kuvarakh tainted his own soul, by killing that first master in a fit of red, screaming retribution, when Trask's son had been found to be among his stored bodies. The man that had calmly, but firmly, declined Kuvarakh's offer, years later, to give him the transformation. The man that had said that he believed the gods intended for people to die. And that such an alteration to a man's given form was to reject the gods' plans for their future rebirths, and therefore to step out of that given cycle, which was, to him, the gods' greatest miracle. The man Kuvarakh had come back to visit, out of loneliness, aimlessness and self-doubt, only to find that he had just died of old age.

The memories fought easily through Kuvarakh's resistance, weighing him down with regrets and confusion. He found himself sagging in self loathing as the woman spoke of "minor reasons" for enjoying the remarkable island and its simple beauties.

"Nothing that brings you peace and pleasure, at no one else' expense, is 'minor". He looked up to see her looking oddly at him. He supposed she could see he was unhappy, but didn't know what to say. As for him, he was not sure what race she belonged to, or what tragedies might have befallen her, or them.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to depress you with philosophical reflections. Please don't stop practicing on my account."

[Lacerta]

Lacerta found the Nuit's down talking of his own race... interesting. She had nothing against other Ethaefal, except the depressed nostalgic feeling she had when around them... but that was generally mutual. She didn't hate the Forsaken either, just finding them... sad, rather than anything else. Sad, and oblivious. She was mostly against hasty generalizations, but... this time it seemed logical. She didn't know exactly how to reply to the statement, so simply shrugged awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. It wasn't nice to be part of a race full of negative, generally horrible people... she slightly understood, since quite the general Eypharian was less than... nice.

She smiled at his comment about her 'minor' reason, having to agree with the reasoning. "True" she admitted with a nod, glancing down at her flute. She could spot the cursive engraving of her name... 'Lacerta', quietly decorating the mouthpiece. "I have plenty of time to practice. Why throw away a perfectly good conversation for something like that? Oh... I didn't catch your name...?" She'd introduced herself, and would have liked to be responded in kind... it was a selfish opinion, but she liked to know exactly who she was talking to. A Nuit, she knew, and a nice and wholesome one at that... but names were important to her.

Out of the blue - well, green - a small deer trotted in, coat a pale tawny with white spots. Lacerta froze, not wanting to spook the creature, and watched it wander around the clearing. It was seemingly indifferent to their presence, instead wandered up to a small patch of clover and began nibbling peacefully. The Ethaefal watched it in amazement, not moving or speaking for several moments. However, when it truly seemed that the deer didn't mind them being there, she relaxed, letting out a low whistle. "The animals here are strange..." she muttered, eyes on their new arrival at all times. "Strange in a good way though... most things here are like that." She glanced up at the Nuit to smile for a moment, but quickly returned her gaze to the creature.

Once the food was finished, however, the deer slowly wandered away and out of the clearing, disappearing into the trees. "That was... amazing" Lacerta announced, honestly. "Not scared of us at all. Have you ever seen a deer like that? Of the few I've met - there aren't any at sea - they've all run away immediately. This one... didn't."

[Kuvarakh]

"Thank you, I appreciate that, and my name is Kuvarakh," he said, emphasizing the second syllable. "Kuvarakh Lashman. But I imagine your practicing carries more beauty that my self-pity. Really, when it comes right down to it, no Nuit has the right to sympathy for their plight. It's not something they were born into, not some hardship that befell them through no fault of their own. They made their choice."

He leaned back, looking off into the distance, "I suppose I can understand the mentality of Sahova. The detachment from the rest of the world. I thought that my mission would be enough to sustain me. But I crave friends, fellowship, companionship...And at the same time, I hesitate to embrace it. I just lost my best friend in the world. Time passes quickly when you are not concerned about it. I did not realize how long I'd been away. Even the comparatively long-lived races..." he looked over at her, "...grow old and die while we watch, yearning to have known them, but fearing the pain of unavoidable loss."

He sat forward again. "But the Nuits of Sahova are without conscience. There was..or maybe still is...a professor at the University who confided in me...more like taunted me...that even if I discovered a way to prevent their bodies from ever needing to be replaced, they still would. 'Because we CAN', he said..." Kuvarakh said, mimicking a voice of arrogant superiority. "Because there are far more important pursuits, in their eyes. Since we humans..." he caught himself, stung by his recognition that "we" no longer applied to him.

He shrugged, "Well, I was human at the time." He allowed a sheepish grin and continued, "He said that since humans can not possibly hope to achieve the height of craft that an immortal can, that to choose mortality is to choose insignificance. And of course, we therefore relinquish our right to measure our worth beside them. He was in favor of farming humans like cattle. Okay, these weren't HIS actual words, but that was the morality behind them."

"I responded that, on behalf of humanity...again, I was human then...on behalf of humanity, I greatly resented being demoted to the status of 'walking wardrobe'. I said a number of other, rather hostile, things, but they just rolled off him. He just sighed and said that my emotions were my greatest detriment."

He brightened somewhat, "So, in truth, my mission has been joined by a second goal. I am determined that I shall not fall prey to the cold, soul-consuming indifference that seems to beset all Nuits in time." His look took on a fatalistic aspect. "I wonder how long I will last?"

He knew Lacerta must be tiring of his self-reproach, so when a small deer wandered into the clearing, he said nothing and watched, letting her enjoy the communion with the fauna of the island. It appeared the animal was not going to start at their movements or voice as Lacerta ventured a few soft comments. When she asked basically if he'd ever had such an encounter before, he was a little pained to answer honestly. He injected a bit of a laugh into his voice, hoping it would not seem that he was being cynical. "Well, yes actually, though I will admit the little fellow's demeanor seems quite completely at ease. For me, as long as I do not move, animals will approach me, albeit cautiously." he gave a tentative smile, "I believe they think I am just a random corpse, and no threat."

He held out his hand to the deer, but it twitched, wrinkled its nose and moved away from him. He supposed Lacerta would be anticipating a new round of moping. it was time to reveal something to her. He grinned, "Look, I actually have a positive purpose to all this wretched wallowing. It's a technique I gained while learning the fundamentals of hypnotism from Trask. It isn't hypnotism itself, just a meditative way of achieving mental separation from self. I use it to purge all this negativity."

He gave her another mildly guilty grin. "I have to confess that what I have been subjecting you to is the first step. It involves getting in touch with all the negative feelings and recognizing their sources, then discarding them. It's a little bit complicated. If you don't want to hear about it, I completely understand. I'll just go ahead with it and you can practice while I sit here. In fact, it might even help to have the ambiance."

[Lacerta]

Lacerta listened to the story – and self-pity – that the other man described. From his description of Nuits… she was seriously beginning to dislike them. A lot. She was not going to ever, ever visit Sahova… even if her boat was sinking. The island sounded like it was full of monsters. Human (ish) monsters. She didn’t mind the talking, since she simply enjoyed stories and their concepts. The slight moping wasn’t particularly annoying… as it told her that Kuvarakh was as human as the rest of them… despite his rotting body.

She watched the deer shy away from the Nuit, and smiled slightly at it. The poor creature probably smelled dead thing and didn’t like it. She continued to watch if for several moments, until he started talking about a ‘purpose’. She found this even more interesting than the last, though she wasn’t entirely sure what hypnotism was. ”Interesting…” she muttered, an eyebrow raised. It was an odd way to avoid negative feelings, but…. It actually sounded like quite the Konti thing to do. She didn’t know if this ‘Trask’ person was a Konti, but the name sounded male.

She didn’t want to be rude by playing during his ‘meditation’ thing, but when he mentioned ‘ambiance’… well, she guessed she just had to. Letting a small, rueful grin touch her features, she opened her music book to one of the songs she was more familiar with. Well, she was familiar with all of them, having written the songs, but had played it once or twice, and wasn’t going to stumble like a fool. Allowing her companion to do any speaking or explaining he wished, she focused half on her music, and half on whatever Kuvarakh was saying.

She lifted the instrument to her lips, and, after blowing a few experimental notes, began the slow, calm, song. The notes had a slight lilt that she had yet to master, because it required a certain way of tonguing… which she hadn’t figured out. But she knew what they should sound like in her head, and used that as a base. She’d perfected most of the notes, however, except for one or two bars that she occasionally stumbled on. Overall, the piece was soft and quiet, though sometimes her control wavered and the notes grew too loud for their own good. When she finished the page-long section, she glanced up and smiled at her companion. She waited a few moments to regain her breath – the last few bars had been three slurred whole notes – before beginning the piece again. This time, she tried to tongue to create the right lilt. She managed to get it on one or two of the notes, but on all the rest… it sounded slightly miserable. Well… she’d figure it out eventually. Every song had its own challenges, and this one was particularly… picky.

Done the second play through, she set down her flute, the long ending making her a little dizzy. The problem with playing too hard, or too long, was that it left you with a running headache for the next few bells. That was why she liked to pace her music, take pauses and breaks every once and a while, to avoid ruining the rest of the day for herself. She watched the Nuit for a few moments, and when it looked like he didn’t mind the interruption, said ”Done with all the negative thoughts?” It was more humorous that serious, but she added a slight grin to make her point. ”Did the music help at all?” the Ethaefal continued, raising her instrument slightly as an example. This was a little more serious than the last statement, but it was still a joke none the less.

[Kuvarakh]

He felt much better. He didn't really think Lacerta's playing had affected the meditative purging of his gloom, but neither had it hurt. But he decided it would improve the mood of the day for him to be upbeat about it. He owed her that at least after his depression. "That is soooo much better!" he beamed, standing up and wiping off the settling layer of pollen and dust. "Thank you very much. That was a nice touch."

He truly was thankful, not so much for the addition of music to his meditating, but simply her overall kindness. He found himself curious about what she had played though. There was a familiarity to it he could not account for. He had never really embraced music in his life. "Was that a tune, or just a scale exercise? It reminded me of 'The Mariner's Race', a simple ditty that was used to demonstrate the whole tone scale. You know, many people confuse an 'augmented' scale with a whole tone scale. They don't realize the comparative parallels are only due to the altering of the intervals that are augmented, usually from the major third to fourth, normally a half tone, as well as the jump from the natural fifth to the sixth. Of course they refer to the sixth as the thirteenth when stacking thirds to keep track of chord voicings."

He did not realize how he was warming to the subject of music theory. "I myself always thought the 'Camellian Scale' was a better choice, with the strict minor third interval there. Of course, it defies the entire concept of the 'relative minor' having no note there to occupy the function of the base tone. Not to mention the fact that the whole tone scale is only seven notes between 'octaves'." he chuckled, "Really they should discard that term, where that scale is concerned, and call it a 'Septive' instead. I mean, seriously, how are you supposed to stack thirds if the intervals do not offset after achieving the basic triad and determining the major, or dominant, seventh? Then again, there can truly BE no seventh, can there. With only seven notes in the scale, that would be an octave, or rather, septive, anyway."

He waved off his deliberations, "But it really doesn't matter. Neither the Whole Tone NOR Camelian Scales are intended to support harmonic stacking, or really ANY augmented or diminished scales. They are only stanza fills meant to accommodate and accomplish dissonance and melodic stress, for greater impact upon resolution and...and...Gods' Mercy!..." he stopped, staring straight ahead. "This can't be! This is astounding."

His seeming excitement turned suddenly to anxiety. "Oh, Dear...Andrik! Has this come back? Rhaus' Teeth! If that reciprocal interchange of intrinsic personal characteristics has become chronic, I must -..." he stopped again, he went on talking more to himself than Lacerta. "No...As I recall, when that first occurred after the accident, I was unable to comprehend the most basic sentence structure."

He looked at Lacerta, his exclusive reverie suddenly cracking as he realized how this all must have sounded to her. "I'm terribly sorry. I suffered a shared accident while enrolled at the University of Zeltiva, and thought the effects were recurring. I was not expecting to find myself indulging in a tirade focusing on music theory, let alone understanding it. The fact is, I've never spent a chime studying music, but I seemed to have retained some of the effects of that accident. Though it didn't ever teach me how to actually play. I imagine every body change would set me back a couple years' worth of practice anyway." He chuckled quietly to himself, "I hope Andrik retained a bit of linguistic prowess as a result."

He sat back down, turning back to Lacerta. "So how long have you had that flute?"