Completed Stilled Emotion (Sayana)

[Shimoje]

Stilled Emotion
Night of 75th of Spring 516 A.V.
Waters crashed upon the docks gracefully and the bright moonlight shined down upon the once still waters. Its reflection scrambled in a chain of waves which showed the face of a confused young man. His visage was all so distorted, but not from the waters or the waves. He didn’t recognize who he was anymore. A standing torch mounted a bit behind on the docks flickered softly in the wind. Every paralyzing embrace of nature made for a memorable moment that Shimoje would never forget. He sat upon the edge of the docks with book and quill in hand and pondered on what to create.

His thoughts were just as distorted as he tried to look at his reflection from within the waters. A deep sigh brought quill to book and with a messy stroke of ink he had begun to write.

“Passages of Shimoje Arawn”

The turning of the page almost felt reluctant at first hand to page but soon enough once again the writing had started as he stared down onto the blank pages before him. His handwriting fairly sloppy but readable to a certain degree. Every stroke showed a pattern of every feeling and thought that had come across as he took his time on the words. It seemed to help him calm down.

He flipped to the back of the book and wrote “Currently residing at Traveler’s Row 23rd door to the right”

“Today marks the 75th of spring in the year 516. It was but two days ago that I had received a letter from my dead father, and since then everything has seemed to change. Today I had chosen something drastic by getting my head tattooed. Most likely in a result of the letter, but I had been thinking of doing it for a while now. It’s stinging is still present, but that isn’t the only thing that stings. Every breath I take is like a needle is puncturing my heart. Why did I go through all of this trouble just to find out it seemed planned. A dead man can’t write.

I don’t even understand how the letter had reached me, and why it wasn’t given to me before I made the journey to Syliras from Zeltiva. My father must have known, no manipulated me into coming here for some obscure reason. Today, this letter will be eaten by the fishes below me. I will however keep a copy of it in my own understanding” Shimoje took out his letter and it crumpled in his fist. His anger had gotten the best of him a single tear fell to his journal. He didn’t even attempt to wipe it off. He turned the page once more, leaving a blank page and possibly planning to eventually tear this page out and copied down his father’s letter angrily. The pressure of the quill showed marks heavier than others in some portions of the script.
“Dearest Shimoje,

I know I was not always there for you, and I should have been more present in your life. Now that you are out on your own I am worried for your survival. By the time you read this I most likely would be dead. There are some things that should not be explained, but I will trust this information with you. During my studies around Mizahar I came across a variety of information on the pre-valterrian era. During this age magic was profound and technological development was at a peak that mankind has not seen since. In my goals to create new life I came across a way to create life like animations, but they would often malfunction. However, I came across some way to inject souls into them, but it was ultimately it was that magic that led to my death. I failed both Izentor and you.

I am sorry son,

I hope you could forgive me, and I hope that you can succeed where I could not.”

The letter was followed simply by a dashed line and some script that read “I will never forgive you.”

The page was turned once more, and the writing continued on as the occasional dip into the ink featured unskilled fading from letting the ink subside too much.

“Yesterday I had attempted to find a mage who would help me to understand the letter. It led to a lot of headache and I acted like a complete child. I never want to show that face of emotion ever again. He made me seem far inferior to him, and deep down I know that I am. The only thing I can do is improve from henceforth. My mind is my own and I don’t want my feelings to corrupt it once again. Life was harder aboard the ship, but it was also simpler. I want to go back to that life and maybe occasionally part on some mysterious land that is far better than this wretched place.

The knights and squires of Syliras are cumbersome and annoying. Living by their laws almost feels wrong to my guts. I do not enjoy it here, and I feel like an outsider. Despite the bonds which I have made here it all almost seems meaningless now. Everything is numbed and it is all because of this petched letter I had gotten from a corpse!”

Shimoje stopped for a few chimes and looked up at the clear skies and got lost in thought once again. His heart was pounding despite sitting perfectly still, and the cool spring air occasionally wafted through a breeze which would soothe his burning head.

“In Zeltiva life was much simpler, but now I have no one to rely on, and I am my own man. So comes the time that I must part with my old self and start anew.” With that Shimoje crumpled and tore his Father’s letter up and threw it into the docks below him which floated and was carried away underneath the docks.

Shimoje let the wind dry the ink, which happened rather quickly and shut the book. With a deep sigh he almost wondered what the petch he was doing. He stood up and dropped the book onto the dock’s wooden planks. It fell straight and closed and remained there as he walked off into the moonlight towards the city. He got to his apartment and plopped himself on his bed staring at the ceiling until he finally fell to sleep's embrace.

[Sayana]

Spring 75th 516 AV - Great Harbor, Night

The salty tang of the ocean was strong up in the northern quarters of the city. Even in Winthop Alley Sayana could smell the sea. She was dressed simply, with a long black robe hiding her mid and low arms and a helmet obscuring some of her face. Her hair was tucked within the helmet to make it tricky to tell her gender at first glance and she wore a buckler shield strapped to her back to complete the basic look of a squire. It was a rather basic disguise but it served the purpose of blending in with the knighthood and its people, especially in just the moonlight.

As she walked down the darkened alley of shops and stalls, her gaze lingered on the various buildings that lined it. She caught sight of the familiar Elegant Weave, a clothing shop she had visited at least twice. There was also the massive Iron Works and the distant smoking tower of the Li Mauta, the mortuary. However, she was looking for what might be a new shop or a new building. Her gaze flicked back to the Iron Works. It definitely had undergone some construction recently. Even in the torchlight she could see that some of the stonework was clearly blackened, presumably from the fumes and smoke of many years, but there was a section tacked on where all the stones were a light grey, or almost white. She recalled last Summer that there had been some construction going on in the streets and apparently it had extended to some of the shops too. Or at least the Iron Works.

With that in mind, she moved through Winthrop Alley searching for stones that looked newer, or more finely cut, rather than weathered by time. And in particular, the shade of light grey that matched the renovations of the Iron Works. It was harder in just the moonlight but after a few chimes of looking, one building stood out. It looked rather expansive and certainly looked new, however there was another shop that looked new too and was somewhat smaller. For a moment she was torn, but eventually settled on the larger of the two to be the residence of Clyde Sullins.

That was all she had been curious about.

The Eypharian promptly left Winthrop and found herself drawn towards the sea and the harbor. There was a tavern nearby mainly serving the svefra and other seafolk which could be a good source of information. A place to warm up from the cool spring air. However, a lone figure sat on the edge of the moonlit docks and attracted her attention. Most svefra were either inside drinking and gambling, or had retired to their ships. Curiously, she drew near but kept to the edges of the buildings to avoid the obvious notice of being out in the open.

The man was still quite a ways off, but she could tell that he was bald and seated hunched over something. She was about to approach to find out what he was so intensely focused on, when he stood and dropped something to the wooden deck. It was accidental yet also purposeful, and soon he was walking back down the dock towards the shore.

She dipped behind one of the few buildings in the area and watched him from around the corner as he left, seemingly headed for the city. Could he really have dropped something like that on purpose? But it would have been hard pressed to have been a true accident. As soon as he seemed a reasonable distance away, she darted out from behind the building and walked at a swift purposeful pace towards the fallen book. As her books thudded against the wooden dock, she bent to swiftly pick it up. However, the man was almost out of sight and she watched as he turned a corner down the street. Despite being curious about what was contained in the book, she quickly pursued the bald man. She ran at a good jog, to gain upon him but avoid attracting too many stares. Fortunately there were only a few people on the streets this late and she was more concerned about losing him.

As she reached the corner, it took a quick couple of glances to catch sight of his bald head. She trailed him through the dark streets, every so often staying out of sight behind a wall or within a door frame if she got too close. At last he led her to the taverns, and then to Traveller’s Row. Only when he stepped inside his apartment did she finally decide he was at his destination. It could have been a friend’s residence, but she hadn’t heard any sort of greeting when he entered. Now that she was quite sure of where he resided, she felt it safe to return to her own home in the Maiden District and attempt to read what had been so significant to both purposefully and accidentally abandon on the docks.

To put it bluntly, it was a painful headache. She was still getting used to reading and with the combination of the dim light of the candle in her apartment and stumbling over the words as she spoke them aloud, it was quite the ordeal. It took her nearly a bell to read the couple of pages of scribbles most recently written but she was intrigued at the same time. This was real information from the depths of someone’s personal life. And it was not happy either. The man was confused with the world crashing about him. Yet the part that interested her most was his dissatisfaction regarding the knights. Yes, she could make use of this.

---

Spring 76th 516 AV – Traveler’s Row, Morning

The following morning Sayana rose early to arrive at Traveler’s Row. She dressed in her black robe over top of simpler clothing. She found a comfortable stone ledge to sit upon outside of Shimoje’s apartment. She opened a book to read, or appear to be reading. However it was not the bald man’s journal, but the tales of an adventurous Alvad. She would sit there casually until the man left his apartment for the day, then she would speak up. Her voice would carry loud enough to be heard but she would not appear to directly be speaking to him, or at least not at first.

“Sometimes there are new beginnings here in Syliras. New beginnings for those who are dissatisfied with the Knighthood. Or for those who have experienced a little too much death in their life.”

[Shimoje]

Shimoje was an early riser. He often found himself unable to sleep for a considerable amount of time. Upon the ships, such luxuries were not afforded, and could lead to some serious repercussions. This morning, however, he lacked the convection to do too much. He awoke with soreness, and almost reviled in it. He enjoyed the pain. Before long he had taken a few sips from his waterskin and started to slowly shave his head and get dressed.

Shimoje had a new array of tools at his disposal. He fastened them to his belt and began to examine each of them. Several knives of multiple types. Perhaps more than a normal person would ever think of carrying, but they each had their own individual uses. The knives were more fit for cutting woods, flesh, and various arrays of other tools like calipers, pliers, and mallets also rested in his carrying pouches which featured a collection of a crafter’s toolkit, gadgeteering toolkit, surgeon’s toolkit, and woodcarver’s toolkit.

He draped his silvery white wolf pelt over his shoulders and was ready to head out to perhaps pay a visit one last time to the lady at the flower stand in front of the Rearing Stallion. The lady had shown him a few acts of kindness before, and for some reason Shimoje enjoyed her wisdom. However, another intention had come across his mind that perhaps he should go out and find something to study today. The only problem was that he hadn’t the inspiration to even know what to study. In his frustration a few grumbles were let out and he stubbed his toe as walking to the door. The pain sent a sharp needle throughout his body, but he remained upright as the pain quickly subsided. Luckily, Shimoje wasn’t injured from the mishap, but surely it still hurt in that brief moment.

Frustrated Shimoje approached his door and opened it with a force of anger and then proceeded to slam it as he walked out and locked the door. As walking he fingered his pliers and took them out. He looked down at his feet as he walked and gripped and released the pliers in his hand. They seemed to apply a considerable amount of force at the metal ends. Just as he thought today would just be another while waiting for the next, he started to hear something very interesting from a robed figure sitting not too far from his door.

The figure spoke of death and knighthood and how there are those dissatisfied with the knights. Shimoje scoffed and continued to walk by the figure when the thoughts of his journal the night before reached out. The knights and a new beginning unrelated. He couldn’t take solace in such a thing, and had no intention of ever joining that sort of servitude. While walking he spoke out “Don’t be silly. If someone thinks that the knights are the only way to a new beginning, they are already a fool.”

He now wanted to head back to the harbor where he remembered his journal was placed, and had the full intention of writing more entries into it. Perhaps he could remember what this figure had stated and make note of it. Not too far away a rat had scurried across the stone floor and was injured. He was intrigued a little, and approached the rat as it sounded it’s squeaks of fear and terror as the bald headed figure approached with his pliers. He clamped the pliers down on its tail and lifted it into the air, examining it. It indeed was missing a limb. This is when Shimoje remembered a simple request to replace such a limb. A rat is nothing like that of a human, but perhaps it could have some similarities. He took the rat to a corner and slit its throat giving it a quick death with one of his knives. The death was swift and didn’t seem to seep much blood.

“Hmm.” Shimoje let out, and he continued to slice into the rat from its neck down to its stomach, revealing its innards. It wasn’t a clean cut to just remove the skin, and soon organs were showing in all of it grotesqueness. A heart, stomach, and lungs were probably the most notably seen, and then the intestines fell out. Shimoje was intrigued by it all, and could only hope to begin to understand the functions of them. Eventually his blade scraped away most of the organs and muscles and reveals the bones and tendons. The white strands that connected the bones seemed to allow free motion. This was as much as he could do at this point, and only a few chimes had probably passed. He didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to himself, so he buried the rat amongst some clutter and wiped off his tools while pouring water from his waterskin on them and placed them in their correct places on his belt pouches.

The bald headed Zeltivian had a new inspiration now that his thoughts had been somewhat relieved. He approached the figure that was sitting and robed mysteriously. “I have never noticed you here before. What are you reading?” Shimoje asked the figure calmly. He was intrigued mostly. Not many people read openly from what he had been able to tell, and most regarded books as a treasure in the city.

[Sayana]

Sayana smiled briefly when he retorted back about the knighthood. No, he certainly did not favor them. Her eyes flicked down towards the book but as he walked down the cobbled street, she glanced up several times to watch his course. He was still within sight so she kept up her casual act of reading. There was a squeak of a mouse, or rat, followed by silence and a contemplative sound from the bald man. Soon there was the faint plop of innards falling to the cobbled ground and Sayana looked up once more to see the man’s detached curiosity at the bloody remains.

Killing rats… They weren’t even useful for the meat that was on them. She idly flipped a page and continued her act of reading. Soon, however, the bald man returned to where she was seated and promptly asked her about the book she was reading.

“They are fanciful tales. Ones from the city of Alvadas, the city of illusions, where streets shift and the rats are made of cheese.” She replied and made a meaningful glance towards the carcass he had buried.

“However, I read something much more interesting last night. A story about a man from Zeltiva who had thought he found what he was looking for, only to have it snatched away from him. Killing rats does not bring back the dead. And dead men don’t tell tales. Or at least, not very elaborate ones. You’ll want to find someone living to get the answers you seek.”

She closed the book she had been reading and got to her feet. For a moment her black robe fluttered with additional movement from within until she got her mid and low arms comfortable. “Come, you have fire and passion in your eyes. Do not forget to live your own life because the man you were searching for has passed.”

The Eypharian gave a beckoning gesture with one of her visible hands, and would lead him down the street towards her apartment if he chose to join her.

[Shimoje]

Shimoje stood there in an almost shock. His lazy and rather idiotic ramblings in his journal told more about him than he could afford the luxury of a stranger knowing. Now, this mysterious woman seems to know much more than what he had expected of him. He felt violated, and incredibly angry at the woman, but it was his own fault. He couldn’t hold it against her, and there was no telling where this new encounter might bring him. He was almost enticed, no swooned by the wisdom that she had. He must know more, and perhaps try his hand once again into the effects of manipulating this situation in his favor. Furthermore, this woman now knew of his last name. A secret that he had been trying to keep.

“Well, it seems you know all about me. First, tell me your name.” He had stated with an ounce of flare to his words. He studied the woman as she got up and spoke. Something strange, very strange… and Shimoje could not place what seemed so awkward about the way this woman presented herself. Though, she had a sense of pride, and beauty in her own right. “You have a fire of you own.” Shimoje stated in regards to her statement. Obviously there were motives to the woman that he could not understand. Why lead him somewhere when she could have just returned the journal and be done with it?

All these thoughts hit Shimoje as his burning scalp itched from the recent tattoo. Shimoje would walk with the mysterious woman, enticed and continue to converse in a low manner of tone with her until they reached their destination.

“Rats made of cheese? I doubt it. I have seen rats and they surely have much greater wonders than some sort of spoiled and churned milk.” He spoke mainly from the education he had received as a child in Zeltiva, as all Zeltivian children receive. Shimoje, though didn’t understand the concepts of illusions quite yet, and curiosity seemed to gleaming in every part of his mind.

As they walked, Shimoje kept hand of tools and prepared for the worst, though surely a woman speaking of such wisdom was well educated and would notice such quickly. “So you know of some embarrassing secrets about me. How about you share one of yourself, to be even?” Shimoje quarreled at one last moment before remaining silent for the rest of the walk.

[Sayana]

“My name? What’s in a name?” Sayana replied to his question, but in a rather cheeky and playful manner. “For now, call me Q.” She gave a brief smile and a nod as he joined her on the walk through the streets.

He was curious, that’s for sure, but there was still that sense of loss about him. And that uncaring way he had regarded that rat. He was lost. She glanced at him when he mentioned his disbelief of the rats made of cheese, but she was not here to make him believe in illusions. She led the way with ease through the narrow cobbled streets. This had been her home for a year and the dips and turns were familiar as she took her old well-used route towards her apartment.

“Firstly, I got my information fair, since someone decided to leave their notebook,” she chided. “However, I’ll humor you with a little something.” She opened the door to the winding hallways of the Maiden District and gestured him inside before continuing her way towards her apartment.

“I have fought against monsters and fought alongside monsters. I have created life and taken life. I have formed the ultimate bond and I have broken it.”

She didn’t go into depth with her explanation, preferring to give an aura of mystery, but each point she made was in fact a significant event or aspect of her life. She had married, yet it had ended. She had felt her baby’s kicks from within, and yet her son had come too early and had passed. She had killed zith, and she had fought alongside them.

She was quiet for a time as her boots treaded silently along the torch lit hallways. She would listen but be loath to speak as she began concentrating on her djed within her. She drew upon it slowly this time, feeling the magic move from her body towards her head, her mind. The sensation of power was addicting and it took patience to slowly harness it. Sayana focused on the emotions of determination, initiative, and all bound together in a firm sense of purpose. This drive she wrapped in layers of djed, over and over.

As she reached her door, she gathered the magic to concentrate on the tip of her tongue. “Loss can be devastating. However if you want to move on, the best way is to find a new sense of purpose.” At that word she looked Shimoje in the eye and released the built up magic. Her tongue tingled with the effects and she opened the door into her apartment. “Come inside Shimoje Arawn.”

[Shimoje]

Shimoje walked with the mysterious figure willingly. It felt like not so long ago he was just explaining the meaning and purpose to a name as described to him by none-other than his father. “A name has power in it, Q. I rarely give out my full name because of that. With someone’s name you can find them easier, or gain information on the person, or worse.” Shimoje slyly smiled to the stranger and sure enough she was right. She had gained the information fairly, but that didn’t stop Shimoje from feeling like they were at a complete unfair advantage with each other.

He couldn’t even trust if her name truly was just “Q” at all, but the information she had given him in turn to try and make the grounds a bit more even confused him. It was as if she was speaking in riddles, but there was something almost like a sadness to the words she spoke to him.

The light on in the dark hallways flickered about as the two whisked their way quietly through. A fleeting feeling suddenly came across Shimoje’s chest, and it grasped on as if almost suffocating him. It was a very unusual experience, but he just took it as being thirsty. Shimoje had remained silent mostly throughout this part, and more or less was looking around avidly to become aware of his environment. Finally, the two had reached the door, most likely this stranger’s abode. Shimoje started to feel a bit unusual, and had the sudden urge to complete something. This feeling was not too unrelated from the sense of drive he had when crafting something. Often he would get entranced in his work and not stop until it was completed, but so every often taking a break and repurposing his muse or resting his hands.

Shimoje was compelled to figure out what this stranger was talking about. She spoke of a new sense of purpose as if she would have some sort of resolution to his problems. After dealing with Clyde Sullins Shimoje was a bit weary at first, but overall his reaction was obvious. As he stood there ready to enter the stranger’s apartment Shimoje’s thoughts ended up skewed. The overburdening sense of initiative confused him and he turned towards Q and smiled.

“But Q, we just met... What is this new purpose you speak of?” Shimoje was being sarcastic and perhaps pulled the joke a bit too far, but deep down this mysterious and intelligent woman seemed to attract him in some of the most peculiar ways. Shimoje was naturally curious, and entered the woman’s apartment.

Upon entering Shimoje would scan the place and look around to see what is inside and perhaps even scan for any books that resemble his journal. He would remain in an excitable mood, and only upon mention of his father would he refocus his intentions.

[Sayana]

“Your new purpose? That will be for you to figure out.” Sayana answered with a twinkle in her eye. “However, there are a couple things I might suggest. Here, have a seat.”

She gestured to the couple of couches near the front of the room. The table between them was low and empty apart from a single candle she lit. Near the back of the room Shimoje might notice a familiar looking journal on the dining table by the hearth. There were a couple of clothes draped here and there about the apartment and dishes near the dining area but otherwise it was tidy yet lived in.

After a tick or two to let Shimoje get settled, Sayana took her leisurely and rather purposeful time removing her black robe. She was well aware that her other arms hadn’t been as obvious from before and as she took off the garment to reveal a simple red top and pants, she stretched out her arms.

She took a seat on one of the couches, lounging casually. “Firstly, I wouldn’t get tied up with the knighthood too much, but it seems you already know that. They are rather constricting in their ways, and more so when your ideas don’t seem to match theirs.” As she spoke she began concentrating this time on feelings of comfort, happiness and confidence. It was like a warm aura that spread out from her, tinged with djed that would slowly seep in and around Shimoje’s presence. The feeling was gradual and she focused on adding more and more djed to the feelings of confidence and self-respect. Slowly she pushed the magic outwards from her to push up against Shimoje’s own aura.

“Secondly, you should do what you’re passionate about. Don’t get lost in a wild goose chase if it isn’t what you truly care about and desire. And thirdly…” Here a smile flickered to her face. “You should keep your eyes open for me. Let me know the comings and goings of the city, or wherever you are. Especially if you enjoy feeling like this, right now.” She caught his gaze and sent out an obvious surge of the happy feelings, almost to the point of elation.

For a moment her vision blurred, but she kept her gaze upon him as she recovered. With that boost of magic she felt the energy suddenly disappear from within her, and her posture slumped for several moments before straightening out.

[Shimoje]

Title:

With wide eyes, Shimoje looked about the room a bit more. Colors of magnificent variety paraded about the walls and the ceiling. It was far too foreign for Shimoje to recognize, and overall made for an interesting sight. Shimoje took a seat pulling it out carefully and studied the movement of Sayana, almost nervous and unsure of how to act. Pulling himself out of it, he seemed to revert back to acting polite and showing courtesies known to Zeltiva. Meeting her eye Shimoje said “Thank you miss.” Nearly refusing to call her “Q.”

His eyes grew wide as Sayana removed her robes, and he intensively looked at her arms in a gambit of curiosity. Choking on his words Shimoje stood up and said “I knew that there was something to your shroud.” He smiled and was delighted that he would have such a chance with a very interesting individual.

“Constricting is a good way to describe it, I guess.” He mumbled as walking towards Sayana. He was entranced by the woman, and wanted to fill his desires, but perhaps that was just another mild emotion. Shimoje suddenly started to feel completely awake. It was as if all the stress got turned into an energizing and exciting resolve. “I want power. Power to do what my father could not.” He said while looking into her eyes.

“I leave the city soon, actually. I work aboard a trade ship that travels across Mizahar as far as Zeltiva and back.” He exclaimed. Upon pondering his need for knowledge and power he almost wondered how would achieve such aboard a ship, but that much was set in stone. He wanted to experience the world and travel, like no one has ever done before. Shimoje approached Sayana and captivated by the whole situation he was in, looked at her deeply. He rudely looked at her from head to toe, but then focused upon her arms. “I am curious, how much do your arms hinder you?” He asked, perhaps a bit outspoken, but this was his first step at learning more to potentially aid in his own endeavors.

“May I?” He asked and gestured to sit on the couch. If allowed, he would take a seat and continue to pay attention to his host. “You really are provocative. Where do you come from?”

Suddenly a surge of thoughts and emotions subsided, and his mind was almost clear for the first time it had been in a long time. “Caring. Desire. Contraction pulls at that which extends too far. Weakness pulls at that which strengthens too much.” He spoke mostly of devices that he had both constructed and researched, but this particular phrasing referred to himself. How could one that desires both knowledge and power not get lost in the obscurity of wisdom?

“I am a guest in this world, I feel. While others rush about to get things done, I simply accept what is offered, but my mind is like a fool. Always aloof to the clamor of life around me. Everyone seems so bright and alive – with sharp distinctions of day.” Shimoje sighed and continued his explanation “while I at times appear dark and dull, with a blending of differences at night.” He said. “I am sure you noticed that rat back there.” His mind was now reverting back and going down a darker path once again, except this time it formulated around self discovery.

“You could say I have no favorites. If only I could see my own self as the world. What then would I need to accumulate. What then would I need to give? The knights of Syliras seek for virtue, but have their own faults. I have no fixed heart of my own, I don’t seek virtue. I treat the bad with good and the good with bad, when necessary.”

Edging a bit closer to Sayana, captivated by her and spilling out his guts “A lot has happened with-in the cities here. Tales of Rhysol followers recently captured dwellers and surely have more planned. The knights reacted swiftly, but perhaps do not know everything. Various monsters have plagued the wilds, and Zith are becoming more prevalent from when I first arrived. It seems almost dangerous to reside here.” He exclaimed as recalling his past events.

As soon as he released the information, the euphoria arrived once more.

"My Speech." "Other Speech."

[Sayana]

Sayana was pleased by his reaction to her many arms. Yes, he was certainly curious and enraptured by her. She smiled as he stated that he wanted power. Power was a beautiful thing, and even now she relished in the power of her magic, even if it was over seemingly small things like emotions. She perked up curiously at his mention of leaving the city. So he would not do as a spy. And to Zeltiva? Wasn’t that on the far side of the continent? At this piece of news she doubted that he would ever be back. Or back in one piece.

“My arms are not made to hinder,” she answered in a rather matter of fact tone. “They enhance my abilities compared to your mere two arms.”

She made a brief wave to the couch with a low hand when he asked to sit. She didn’t mind him in the least joining her.

“And I am from the deserts of Eyktol,” she answered simply to his question.

Sayana listened as he continued to speak, almost detached and jumping from one topic to the next. It seemed like he needed a friend more than anything. His world had been turned upside down and despite saying that he wanted power that his father never had, he seemed lost in his purpose. Perhaps his voyage would do him good. He then spoke of dangers and her eyebrow quirked at the name he uttered.

“Rhysol? I have not heard of him. But I have come across zith more than just a few times.” She replied calmly to his unleashed thoughts. “However you’ll find dangers no matter which city you’re in. And even more dangers outside any city. Quite truthfully, I’d say that Syliras is one of the safer cities I’ve been to. Unless you manage to cross the knights.”

Whether it was his own doing or something she had prompted him with, he didn’t seem quite so devastated as his journal had originally suggested. There was purpose in him even if it was as simple as sailing the seas in search of power.

“You said you seek power. Is it something tangible that you are looking for? Or knowledge? Or do you plan to tread the same path as your father and seek the same magic he did? If you do, don’t let history repeat itself.” She was somewhat curious now and wondered what the source of his ambition was.

OOCHope you don't mind me mostly just responding to Shim. I get the impression that he's bursting to tell more and that you're happy to drive the plot along.