[Star's Shadow] Words afloat (Alses)

[Tiorak Tioravi]

23rd of summer
Sometime in the evening

It was hard to believe something as simple as a waxen seal could produce so much discomfort within a man. Given his already restless nature, and the fact that a part of him wanted to, it was damn near miracle that wax yet stood unbroken. The twin-headed T clearly stood for Tioravi, Tiorak Tioravi, in fact. Yet why would they sent him a letter stamped with what carried the weight of his own signature? The whole notion of receiving a letter from one’s self seemed tedious. Even so, his struggling eyes could make out several details even without peeking upon the words he feared would be there. The message was sent on highest quality paper, which meant the family was still doing well. No ordinary bum could afford something quite so extravagant. Not that one particular sheet was even that expensive, but they weren’t really readily available and circulating among the populous. The wax itself was crimson, which signified that his family still bothered with appearances some, and no completely fallen house ever went so far. Finally, the signet was one that his hand had sorely missed these many years. He could still remember how father had one fashioned for each of his numerous children, each one carrying their name and surname. Usually a family seal would go with it, which was again only a personal seal of the family’s founder, but it was all still quite extravagant. Tiorak, personally never really understood the effort behind all these formalities. Even so, he was glad to tears when he recognized his own seal. This made him sure he’d find the family’s seal inside too. Usually, it was the other way around, but if he saw both, somehow he’d know they’re all well, even if they’d never forgiven him for what he’d done.

He could still remember the afternoon’s surprise, as he tried to ask around the Tranquil for someone heading Zeltiva’s way. As if an enchanted arrow, the messenger headed straight for Tiorak. He couldn’t remember seeing the man asking around for directions, which was incredibly suspicious now that he thought of it, but back then his mind was barely functioning. After seeing the letter, he could only hear something that he’d swear to be the exact words he had once heard his father and grandfather trade between them before they parted for the last known time.

“A Tioravi in every place” – The sentiment was lost on Tiorak. Even if he never knew much about his family’s roots or how they came to Zeltiva, that city was still their home for his lifetime. The other children all agreed when he asked in the past, so for their whole lives, they too believed the same. It had been so long since he last felt the need to think about such abstract things. There was something ominous of a note, added in the messenger’s traceless disappearance. The man was in and out unreasonably quickly, demanded no extra payment, never visibly tampered with the letter, and recognized Tiorak effortlessly even when none he knew in the past have seen him for something akin to five years… all of it sounded creepy when summed up. Even his father’s most trusted men couldn't be so well informed, mostly because he never left much trace for them to follow. And why should they? All they needed to do was request for his return in written form, and the guilt would force him into obeying.

His head filled with all this new-found worry, he still couldn't bring himself to open it. So he did the next best thing, and went to a nice inn, thinking the whole time about how his father wouldn't really approve. But his father wasn't there. That was the only information of real importance so far, but that one sentence still bugged him endlessly. If they had taken such complicated steps, and even said those funny words… was it safe to know the holdings of this letter? Screw safe, did he even want to?! He did! Gods, but he did! Regardless of consequence or possible curse inside it, he couldn't leave half his life behind forever on account of one error. Well… one major one?

The Star’s Shadow wasn't the closest inn, or the finest. Regardless, it was the only one that he frequented with some regularity. There was no special reason behind this. Someone on the street had pointed him to it his first day there, and with all this change in the past, he was happy to find some stability, even if in something so frivolous.
The establishment was beautiful enough for him to go as far as dropping four kina for two Lhavitian glows. That was him being irresponsible at its best. He never had infinite control, even sober, and tipsiness provided an outlet for danger well besides emotion. If he ever drank too much, he could fall, break his neck… and die. Then again, he could give into the temptation to burn something, which was stronger than ever since the letter landed in his hands. Having come earlier than most patrons, Tiorak had the privilege of positioning himself as close to the edge as the staff allowed. It was funny how people had this thing about heights even after having lived their entire lives this high above. He always loved them, even if he was of the lowlands. If he simply threw the thing over the edge… would anyone ever know? Would he be fast enough to set it ablaze as it drifted down the thick breeze? Disregarding his shykin’ mind, he’d take a good gulp of his drink. The kick of it numbed him enough to remain sitting. It was almost enough to stop his hands from dancing across his lap too; almost.

[Alses]

The stars were dark overhead when Alses left the Radiant Tower. It was that odd time of the not-quite-night when the rising light of the city met the sinking sun and the wavering light of the stars and cancelled it all out, filling the sky with a diffuse glow that obscured the pinpoint glows of the universe.

It was only transitory, though; soon enough the endless darkness of the spaces between the stars would win out against the waning bloodred of the sun and the more subdued rainbow flare of the city itself. In short order, the bright glow of the day and the mysterious shimmer of the twilight times would die away, and all that would be left would be the cold glimmer of the stars and the baleful, cruel gaze of the uncaring moon.

Oh, sometimes there was relief in the dark skies, in the form of blazing aurorae and the occasional meteor shower, bright slashes against the cloying black that could captivate and mesmerise and were seemingly immune to the colour-stealing touch of Leth, but those were all the exceptions and hardly the norm.

Alses shuddered, a convulsive shiver running up and down her frame, and to her mild surprise she felt her throat burn with a certain longing for a drink, the wicked concoction that the Star’s Shadow bartenders had whipped up for her one day years ago, tailored to her exacting tastes. It was sunshine and fire and surpassing sweetness, just the thing to chase away the dark and all its shades.

Instinctively, Alses looked around from her vantage point on the bridge. Off on Tenten Peak, Elysium Hall glimmered, visible even at this distance as its skyglass blazed in defiance of the onrushing terminator, a beacon calling her home. Closer, though, just around the corner, really, from the monumental Radiant Tower, was the Star’s Shadow, an oasis of elusive light, strong drinks and beautiful views.

As if suddenly spurred by the thought of that inebriate’s oasis so nearby, her body and brain – without any conscious input – began to present various bills and complaints.

Hands – cramped from holding a quill all day, and splotched with ink from where her hand had slipped on one of the million signatures that flowed across her desk each day.

Rear – aching from the chair in which she’d been ensconced most of the day, despite all that padding and judicious use of Tanroa’s beautiful blue Blessing could do.

Shoulders – tensed and raised, radiating the tension built up through the constant negotiations, the interplay of cause and effect and all the factional spats that characterised most of her work, hidden from public view by the united front the government put forward to the citizens.

Head – full of cotton wool, fuzzy and undirected, aching from the cerebral effort her job required day in and day out. How Talora and Aysel had managed for so long without help was beyond her; the duties as Councillor Radiant just of her department were all she could manage. It didn’t help, either, that with the setting of the sun her glorious celestial self had fled into the aether, dumping her back into the depressingly familiar and distressingly corpselike sack of flesh.

Sometimes, Alses wondered how she’d ever managed as a Konti. They were so…drab.

All of her could well do with a little liquid relief, she decided, resolute, even if it had to come through the medium of auristics. Happily, the Star’s Shadow was something of a haven; the view from its precipitous terraces usually enough to capture others’ attentions and so take them off her…unfortunate form.


A


The Shadow was quiet when Alses passed through its threshold, just the low murmur of a few patrons and the clink of bottles and glasses at the bar. Her night-sight was atrocious, it had to be said, but it wasn’t necessary; skyglass arches, curls and curlicues of the glowing substance – along with the softer phosphorescence of the plant life around Lhavit – saw to that, and she made a beeline for the trim figure of the barman, unerringly weaving through the tables.

As soon as she made her presence felt, the bartender looked up from his polishing of the glasses and a flash of recognition lit his aura even before the smile curved his face. “Good evening, m’lady,” he greeted, hands already reaching for the cocktail shakers and a tall champagne glass.

“Evening,” Alses allowed – to her, ‘good’ was an adjective very rarely applied to the hours of darkness. “My usual, please.”

She felt the knowing grin and the surge of smugness as a wash of warmth against her skin, even as skilled hands moved and shifted, collecting ingredients and swirling them together with consummate ease to make Alses’ sweet and fiery cocktail of choice.

It had no name, as far as she was aware, a creation tailored to her own tastes and was therefore glorious.

Sucking childishly on the rakish reed straw that the barman had seen fit to garnish it with, Alses surveyed the Shadow, eyes dancing over the waiters and the few, scattered patrons, evaluating them with the subconscious, innate ease of the master aurist and keen observer both.

Ah, interesting.

Amid the clouds of relief and fatigue and the blurring amber nectar that was the effect of the Star’s Shadow liquors, flowering up from most of the patrons, there was something sharper and more complex, smelling of regret and concern, leavened with the crimson sprinkle of anger and the tarnished-silver of guilt.

Because she was nosy, and because her senses would get no rest until the maelstrom was calmed, Alses made her way over to that table in particular. “Mind if I join you?” she asked, sharp eyes noting the letter being turned over and over in one hand, a compulsive and repetitive motion she was fairly sure he had no idea was occurring, and the sudden gulp of a large part of his fiery drink, the alcohol burning as it went down.

“Enjoying the view?” she asked presently, knowing full well that the answer was ‘no’. Other things entirely held the shadowed patron’s attention, of that she was sure, but there were still the essential courtesies to maintain.

[Tiorak Tioravi]

A person was standing beside his table, his peripherals told him that well enough. He didn't bother reacting to the newcomer until they spoke. The voice was distinctively female, and that caused him to look up. Father thought him a great many things, and not being rude to ladies was high ranking among them. Finally deigning to look up at this woman, the back of his mind tingled with remembrance. She was a Konti. His father used to keep council with one, and on occasion told Tiorak some miscellaneous information on how they could see through things. He never understood what any of it meant, but it must've meant something, because the Konti that advised his father was a simple seamstress. All of it made him a bit uneasy towards the presence in front of him.

Still, glad enough for the company, he'd disregard that bit of doubt. Bolting upright to tower over the Konti, he'd nod and extend his hand in greeting. „I'm Tiorak“ and as he laid the letter on the table gently, he gestured with his other hand „And you're free to keep me company if it pleases you“ he'd wait for a bit with his hand stretched out, but then would sit regardless of the outcome. Taking a long gulp of his drink, he felt its effects a bit better than the first time. Two good gulps, and he was already halfway through the first glass. Maybe he was drinking too fast, but things like that mattered little to him. Naturally, now that he had company, he was certain he'd mind a certain limit. He wouldn't want to turn into a blabbering swine who could potentially throw up on the person across him.

Giving her a better look, he'd notice the Konti seemed to be a lot younger than him. They were a long-lived race, so that was probably deceiving. Still, she seemed a tad too tired for someone so young. Now that he thought about it, he was taught how not to be rude. Being absent on most of the meetings however made him completely without experience in the realm of entertaining company. So to cover for his inexperience, he approached it like talking to an old acquaintance.

„How was your day?“ it was a valid enough question, in his mind. Also, the nervousness he felt talking to the Konti subtracted from the fixation he felt with the letter. Somehow he wasn't nervous around her as he was around other girls, not for the same reasons anyway. Perhaps it was because he thought the Konti too alien to approach in such a light up to that point in his life.

[Alses]

e

“Sela,” she replied briefly, setting her cocktail down with a thump and a rattle of ice in the glass, before following it down herself, settling with a relieved sigh into the chair, every muscle in her body unwinding and relaxing after bell upon bell of unremitting work.

Had she had a lunch break that day? Not that one was strictly necessary from a purely nutritive point of view, of course; the sunlight which flooded her airy office for much of the day kept her entirely well-fed, a perpetual banquet of solar delight, but still...there was something to be said for a bell or two in the middle of the day gloriously free from work.

Somehow, Alses didn't think so; Mercadier and Una both seemed to manage to find plenty of paperwork that needed her signature, or that at the least she needed to read. More than enough, in fact, to keep her occupied even if they schlepped off for their lunch, down to the restaurant on the fourth floor or else out into the city and its profusion of eateries.

“And exhausting, as usual.” Of course, buoyed by Syna's infinite energies – and, admittedly, all the challenges and intricacies of the job that needed every erg of her mental capacity to negotiate successfully – she was never tired whilst actually at the Radiant Tower. It was only when the sunset painted the walls in all the colours of blood and the Change washed over her, stripping away her celestial form and forcing her back into her ugly Konti chain, that fatigue struck.

Unfortunately, when it struck it struck with a vengeance, filling her head with cotton wool and sapping the strength from her muscles.

“Still, I'd not rather be doing anything else. It's just a bit of a neverending task, that's all.”

She sucked again on her straw, drawing up a long draught of it to tantalise her tastebuds before carefully replacing the liquid. It wouldn't do for her throat to close up – or worse. Alses noticed – with some small surprise – that Tiorak was already halfway through his glass.

“I'd ask how your day has been,” she continued, with a nod to his letter, gleaming innocuously between them, pale against the dark wood. “But I rather think I know already. It's troubling you-” another gesture to the letter “-so perhaps you should get it over with, rather than letting it fester?” A faint smile.

“What you imagine to be there is probably far worse than what's truly written.”
e