Wolf @ NotACrane

We need to speak, I think. And since, I suspect, that shall be a difficulty through normal means, I shall take the means available to me. You are who I think you are, yes?

Ah, what a creative solution to an other to an otherwise insoluble problem! Even better, you might spark a new trend! …though, one supposes that Jorule and our good kensei’s companions have gotten there first. How frustrating.

One supposes that playing coy–however amusing it might be–would not only be unhelpful but disingenuous. Yes, I am he who–charmingly, it must be said–might be called the “Angel of Resolve.” One would joke about being your “better half,” but that would be in bad taste, and inaccurate besides.

It is exceedingly good to speak with you, though one hesitates to call it “meeting.” Unless you wished to spin me out in a welter of gnosis, like our good kensei did with her own Angel, albeit unawares. Unnecessary, in all likelihood, but one supposes it is a possibility.

I would ask what a “kensei” is, but I suppose I can guess from context.

And no, I have no intent on doing anything quite so dramatic. I will be blunt: it already causes me no small amount of concern and distress to think that my self is not entirely my own. The naginata was not my doing, was it? It was yours.

Ah, forgive me. Yes, “Sword-Saint,” in my mother tongue, would translate rather neatly as “kensei”–in some ways, the term is neater in that language than in yours. “Saint,” in this tongue, implies a degree of religious holiness that “kensei” does not. Instead, the term is more…monastic? A dedicant to a particular chosen path, that sets oneself outside the usual norm. You, yourself, might fit the term, in truth. My apologies, the translation is difficult and inexact.

As for the naginata–yes, but only in part. The skill with which you now wield it is, I think, partially shared of my own experience. However, you have no small martial skill yourself, and one suspects that this is a valuable aid. Were I not present, one believes you would still acclimate quickly to the weapon, albeit perhaps not so quickly.

But this is not your true concern, is it? You fear that my self, my capacities, my desire, will override your own–or shapes your own, to the exclusion of an independent self. As much as I can, please, let me reassure you that this is not the case. As one has said now to several others, one was content to watch enraptured from the stalls–but Fire has ever been my element, and I find this world invigorates me. Perhaps I shall return to silent observation when we leave this Burning world.

Regardless, I have no desire to overwrite your will. My coming to this partnership is as obscured to me as it is to you, but one suspects that I chose this partnership, not because you were a suitable vessel to shape to my whims, but because the person you already were intrigued me. We are both very alike, and very different. You are blunt where I am indirect; you are older, wiser, and more restrained, whilst I was young, ambitious, and to some degree, impulsive. Yet we share a certain similarity–the willingness to march relentlessly towards our goals, a comfort with risk, a desire to remold the world into a shape less harsh and more sustainable. But I would not stoop myself to shape you into anything other than what you are–I believe, instead, that I chose to empower you, that you might better face the challenges before you.

In truth, the naginata was as much surprise to me as it was to you. I cannot deny there is a resonance there–but it is a strange one, for in truth I did not wield a naginata in my one climactic clash of arms; it was denied me, though I wished to bear it. Perhaps, in this universe shaped by story, it is a strange gift of completion–that you might bear my favored arms, where I did not, in a tale of which I am only a secondary participant. But I did not call that resonance into being; one thinks that only only equipped you to grasp it, when it arrived.

I see you have been communicating with Jorule.

Ah, yes, indeed. A most fascinating conversational partner. Have you enjoyed our exchanges?

I am not in the habit of reading another’s correspondence. Are you?

Ah, I should have expected no less of your peerless honor. I am afraid my honor is of a somewhat murkier sort–and besides, reading one another’s mail, where I am from, is both entertainment and necessity. Anything you wished to not have an audience for was best spoken face to face, or delivered by trusted messenger. Since these “threads” are not obscured, one assumed that what is said is fair game.

Why do you ask, good sir?

Am I correct in assuming, then, that you are responsible for his sudden change in attitude?

One hardly thinks one has changed his attitude–one imagines it would take a larger hammer than one has to hand to remove the surliness that encrusts his personality. One may have exerted some small influence upon his tactics, however.

Should I not have?

Hm. I am not ungrateful. But neither do I require you to manage my relationships for me.

Oh goodness, I had no such intention, truly. What little I did, I did not for you…but for myself. I have, much as you do, a vested interest in this little tale of ours reaching a positive conclusion. His tactics and his best interests were set against each other–a very regrettable state. I suggested some improvements in his play; he took my advice.

Were he my enemy, I would have gladly let him continue in error, but he is an ally, and one’s allies must also be kept arrayed and fit. Lest one find one’s self alone at an inopportune moment.

And the fact that I benefited, in a way I could not have brought about myself…?

Why, that is why you have allies, of course.

I could not touch the elements any more than I might touch the moon, in my past life–but it did not matter, for my beloved was the Heir of Fire. As I said before: where you are direct, I am subtle, and such may be to your benefit, and the benefit of us all.

Hm. I cannot deny your logic. I would have liked to have been consulted, however.

Ah, yes, well. One admits we are also alike in this: we are both used, I think, to acting on our own recognizance, and seeking the permission of none. I am happy, of course, to be your servant–direct me as you have need–but at the same time–the strongest allies are those who act in your best interest, even in the absence of orders. I will not lie to you…I will, betimes, ask forgiveness rather than permission. But I will assure you–I will act in no way to the harm of you and yours, and always to their good.

Unspoken but clearly heard: “their good, as I see it.”

I have no other judgment to use, alas, unless you wish me enslaved to your judgment…at which point, I fear, you begin to defeat the point of having allies and companions.

Let me be blunt, good Wolf. We can dance this dance of mistrust until the universe ends, and be poorer for it. What will it take for you to trust me? What evidence could I give, that–for all that my methods might be alien to you–I am your sworn and stalwart ally?

For if we cannot come to some accord, this sharing of a soul may become increasingly…uncomfortable. And I would not have that come to pass.

I…hm. This would be so much easier if we were not…sharing space. Mm. But I must deal with what is, not what I wish was so. And this…is no different than any other leap of faith that I have made along this road, is it? You have no good reason for deception save malice…and that is…

…a fear.

And I must cast out fear.

Very well. Do as you see fit. Though I would prefer to at least know how you are acting on my behalf.

I swear to you, my friend, I will not act on your behalf, or take any action according a risk of harm to you and yours, without consulting you beforehand.

That said–I do intend to keep corresponding with Jorule, for my own sake. Read our exchanges if you wish, I do not mind. But those actions are mine, and mine alone.

Hmph. I suppose that is fair. At least someone can talk to him.

He is more than you think, my friend, though I understand why he irks you so. I think that he would die, before he allowed true harm to come to thee and thine. We shall see what I can winkle out from beneath those sharp-edged feathers. It shall be a very entertaining game.

Does he know that he is “playing a game” with you?

If he has eyes to see…he does now! But in truth, one suspects he is far too canny a player to need such blunt reminders. We shall see!

If one may be exceedingly bold, Okami-sensei–one is quite curious about this dragon-priest that you are so keen to learn more about. It seems rare that any single person fascinates you so.

I do not think I could stop you from being “exceedingly bold” if I tried. I am beginning to get the sense that it is less than a personality quirk than a core trait. And what in all the little gods is an “Okami-sensei”? Before you comment–yes, I am well aware that you’re referring to me, I am not entirely blind to context.

You wound me, Okami-sensei! One is quite capable of restraint and humility. One has been the very model of restraint in our dealings. True, there have been some minor occasions where I have exercised a modicum of initiative, but overall, one feels that one’s conduct has been beyond reproach.

Do forgive me my dreadful sense of humor, though–as you have guessed, “Okami” is merely the word for “Wolf” in my mother tongue; it is quite an honored word, as our sun goddess was often said to manifest as a wolf of fire. “Sensei” is also a term of respect; an honorific given to teachers, masters, and priests, to be specific. I mean no disrespect by it–quite the opposite, I assure you.

Though…I cannot help but notice that you have not answered my question.

If this is your idea of restrained and humble conduct, I shudder to think of what you are like unbound. …apologies, that is a jibe that you did not deserve, and unbecoming of myself as well. You have held to our accord, certainly.

That said: if you would like an answer to a question, “Shijin,” I would recommend that you ask a question, rather than alluding to it coyly.

On the contrary, good Okami, one must admit that is hardly a jibe and…more of an accurate assessment. I cannot say that my behavior, when I chose, did not strike terror into my enemies. One does try to avoid unsettling one’s friends, however. (And to be fair, said enemies struck first. When you back a lion into a corner, one cannot reasonably be surprised when it strikes with fang and claw. …not that it seemed to stop my adversaries, poor fools.)

As for one’s subtleties…is it so bad that one would prefer this be a conversation, not an interrogation. And it is intriguing, you must admit–the aloof wolf, turning always in the direction of a distant, angry sun. He must be interesting indeed, to press so on the carefully tended control of one’s passions.

And yet, your conversations seem to me the envy of a trained interrogator. You converse like a knife-fighter, full of feints and flash–and all of it concealing the simple straight thrust that bites to the bone. You veil yourself in ostentatious humility, and all the while seem to revel in hinting at how dangerous you are. You play games with your words, yet ask sincerity of me.

…mm. On the one hand, you give me a great compliment–and yet…the chastisement is not unwarranted either. Please, and truly, forgive me; I am used to a realm where words and blades were often the same thing, and both could cut to the bone. It was my great pleasure, in many ways, to be a duelist of ideas–for it was where I found power when I thought myself powerless; it was where I found my strength when I thought myself defanged. But it is an ill conversationalist, and a worse friend, who does not shift his approach to the comforts of his partner, whatever his own pleasures may be.

So, Wolf. May I try again?

…who were you? I know you have spoken much with Salme, but I am loath to invade that privacy for mere curiosity. You speak in turns as a warrior and as a poet, of a realm of blades and words…if you want to know me, then I must in turn know you. I think that much is fair.

Hmm. I have not spoken much of myself to you, have I? I suppose I had assumed you would read our “letters”–such was common practice, in my former home. If you wished privacy, you spoke face to face, or used a trusted courier. That was part of the game–what you revealed, and what you did not. It does you honor, that you resist such a temptation…and one finds it fair that you would wish your knowledge of me to be obtained firsthand.

But it would not do, I think, to make this too boringly simple. One proposes a game, Okami-sensei–a gentle one, one hopes. A question for a question, an answer for an answer. So long as we continue to ask and answer, the game continues–when one refuses an answer, then the game ends. The winner…well, that shall be up to the eye of the beholder, one thinks. Do we have an accord?

…you want to play ‘truth or dare’? Though…without the dares, I suppose…still, a children’s game?

Ah, but good Wolf, often the difference between a children’s game and an adult’s is merely the level of play, is it not? Games can be quite serious indeed, yes? And yet–this time–one would wish to play for fun. A game of knowing, and growing closer. You may even go first! One insists, in fact.

Can we not just talk to one another…? Fine. Though I will insist that the replies not be required to be immediate. I do have other things to do instead of just typing on my tomestone.

That is agreeable, yes. Alas, one has rather more ‘free time’ on one’s hands, but one does attempt to be respectful of those with busier schedules. And actual hands.

Your move, I believe?

How do you write messages if you don’t have–you know what, no, knowing you, you’ll take that to be my actual question.

Who were you, before you were the spirit riding pillion in my soul?

Wise Wolf! Ah, this shall be fun. An excellent question, Okami-sensei. I suppose I have been abominably rude to not introduce myself properly. Very well–let us cast aside titles and pretenses, and reveal our true faces to one another.

In my former life I was Ayato, born to the Ikoma family of the Lion Clan, most martial and valorous of all the Great Clans of Rokugan. Like my father’s fathers before me, I trained as an Ikoma Bard, memorizing the great lineages of our ancestors and singing the ancient songs of war and might to inspire our warriors to greatness. I fought at Toshi Ranbo where the Golden Lion fell, pierced by the Crane Champion’s dart, then carried home to their rest the names of many of the fallen. And, by the wisdom of our Elders and the grace of the Emperor, I was chosen to be a delegate from the Lion in a great conference at the pleasure city of Toshi Tenjikobutan, wherein the Clans would vie and ally to determine the future of our Empire. There I acquired some meager renown in service of my Clan, defeating our enemies at the bargaining table and the dueling ground alike. Before Winter came, I was to be an inaugural applicant for the Imperial Examination–and, if one may indulge in a modicum of boasting, one expected to be one of its finest graduates. One is most humbled and honored to make your acquaintance, Okami-sensei.

Now, for my part: Oh wise Wolf, why does your face ever turn towards the sun of Mu?

Because he is there.

You were a great warrior, then?

Ahahaha…no. Hardly, my good Okami-sensei, though the traditional forms do have a grandiose ring, don’t they? I was a misfit and a reject, disdained by my clan and sent as emissary to serve as an insult. That I succeeded in my task regardless was seen with as much dismay as it was gratitude. It was quite…gratifying, honestly.

A cunning parry, good Wolf, but I think you shall not evade my thrust for long. Why does he turn your eyes in that direction, then?

You said this was supposed to be a fun game, not combative…

Hrm. Is it cheating to say that I don’t know? I simply cannot…I cannot get him out of my head. He was so proud, and so…broken. Like a proud oak bent beneath a weight nearly too heavy to bear. It…it gripped my heart, I do not know why. It was as if my…my soul, my self, cried out…’it is not right, it is not right.’ In that moment, I would have done anything to ease his pain. I think I bent the boundaries ‘twixt worlds trying. But as to why, I cannot say. Not even to myself.

Why were you so rejected? You fought for your clan, you served them well–it seems strange to me that one so passionate and skilled should be thought ill-fitting by their kin.

My dear Wolf, I fear I have a great deal of teaching to do if you do not know how receiving a thrust might be a mutually pleasurable act.

As for your question…mm. As I said, my Clan was one that valued martial skill and might above all other virtues. Armies, tactics, grand strategy, war-craft in all of its variations; these are the joys of the Lion. All that which does not feed the arts of war, in turn, they disdain. A Lion does not paint when they might practice instead with spear and blade; they do not favor fine turns of phrase, but prefer the rough boasts of warriors. Their songs are songs of battle, inflaming the heart; they love no poetry save that which extols great victory.

I am a subtle knife, not a warrior’s blade–though I may say in truth that I have no shortage of courage. I do not love war, wise Wolf; I fought at Toshi Ranbo and nearly choked to death on my fill of it. I am glad that your worlds barely know its touch. It is a bloody, stinking, screaming thing, and I see no beauty in it.

Life is full of ironies, of course. I made my name as a deadly opponent in ‘genteel’ battle, amidst a conflict no less vicious and desperate for being waged in palace halls instead of muddy fields. As much as I despise war, had winter not come…I suspect my destiny would have been to start one.

Ah, good Wolf, I readied my blade and you bared your heart to me. How can I bear to bite further? You have defeated me in your surrender. I shall pry no more–but ask as you will. You have earned that prize.

Hah–I do not feel like a victor. Nor was I particularly interested in winning the game. I simply told the truth, for I cannot do otherwise. Could we…not play a game? And simply converse? I think I am too straightforward to cross wits with you. A…common theme, these days.

Your world seems like a strange and harsh one. Will you tell me of it? And…why you served your clan anyway, despite everything?

Ah, but that is the secret–victory rarely feels as triumphant as one says it does. The awaiting crowd awash in cheers receives not the bittersweet truth, but a pleasant lie. All of my greatest victories ended in exhaustion, I must say.

You do yourself too little credit, wise Wolf. As I am skilled with word and intrigue, you are skilled in the mysteries of heart and community. Be not jealous of my tongue, Okami-sensei; nor be you envious of the masteries of your friends. I would rather have your straightforward heart than my twisted one, for all that I have made it of use to me.

In all the magics and mysteries of the world, there are none so great and deep as those of the heart, wise Wolf. For all their gifts of making and shaping…well. I think your companions will have much need of your ever-beating heart, ere their path reaches its end.

As for my world, I shall gladly speak more of it–but not now. Not yet. Pray, forgive me–I find myself suddenly and strangely quite tired. But when next we speak, I shall tell you more of my Rokugan. I promise.

Perhaps. Perhaps it is just that I am used to my gifts, so I do not see them in the same light as others might. …the Awoken traps sunlight in lanterns, Salme and Aurelius created the wonders of the Library out of thin air, Lucxja saved the Academy entire with his working, and Archie casually debates principles of the world that make my head hurt even to consider.

Do you want a truth, my friend? My truth is that I feel stupid and dull in the shadow of their lights. I hear music. I dream things. I play a flute. Gods, even your words glitter and dance compared to my own. I am “steadfast” and “straightforward.” Yes, as a lump of rock is straightforward and steady. Good for sitting on, or hitting people with, and not much else.

Forgive me. You are tired, and I am…morose. I will be glad to hear of your world, when you are rested, and when I…am better company, I suppose.

Apologies, my companion! I didn’t know I could do that. It was as if I am…closer to the surface, there.

Fear not, friend. I believe you–that space is strange, and I do not think all of our normal rules apply there. Were you, like Jorule, to make a habit of such things, we might have a different discussion, but I do not worry that you would seek control against my will.

I must ask, though…did you have a hand in that dwelling’s making? It seems so perfectly fit to you.

I admit that I did not, though I was, of course, with you when you underwent the Key’s creation. It was as much a surprise–and a gift–to me, as it was to you. There…are things in those rooms that have great meaning to me, and which I would not have thought to make, myself.

Perhaps, someday, we can meet in that space–face to face, at last. I could teach you to play Go, were you willing? Though I warn you, it is a deceptively difficult game. Simple to learn, yes, but its mastery could take a lifetime. I was no master of it, myself, though one admits some small degree of skill. One knows enough to teach the basics, in any case.

How strange. Then I am correct in my suspicions, and the Garden was more…found, or perhaps recovered, than it was a thing of any unwitting creation. If I may ask–what there held such meaning? And why would you not have thought to recreate them?

I would gladly learn, my friend. Though I cannot promise I shall have much time to play, or to study. Is that what that odd wooden table was for, then?

They…they were items significant to those I was closest to, in my time. Forgive me, I would prefer not to speak more of them until I could do so face to face. Before you fear that you have overstepped–they are not so much intimate as…weighted heavily with memory.

Hah, and yes–if I catch anyone using that magificent Go board as a mere table I shall send you to have sharp words with them. Though it may seem simple, I assure you that it is of the very finest craftsmanship–one might easily imagine it resting in the quarters of the Emperor Himself. The garden there is much the same.

…I shall have to see if there was a larder. Perhaps…just perhaps…there will be tea…

Perhaps you should, ah, put a sign on it, then. It seems Jorule has already been investigating the Garden. Not…admittedly, that I think a sign would stop Jorule, but at least then I can argue he should have known better.

…you are very fond of tea, then?

Hm, is that so? …no, I shall not worry; Jorule may be tactless but he is not a boor. Though that does give me an idea…

And yes. I am quite fond of tea. For reasons that are rather obvious, it has been a very long time since I enjoyed a cup. At this point, I would settle for bad tea. I would even drink that shadow-damned genmaicha that one dissolute Doji preferred…

One would like it noted that one behaved oneself perfectly well without any prompting.

One admits to teasing, but one is not a boor.

I…appreciate that, yes. Forgive me, my friend, that kind of…connection…is quite new to me. I am, I think, more sensitive about it than I expected to be, or have much context for dealing with. I did not mean to impugn your honor or behavior, and I apologize for any implication of that kind.

…and, of course, we went straight from that pleasant interlude to near-disaster. I am worried for Qarina–whatever she learned from the Elementals clearly went beyond being merely distressing. I cannot help but feel responsible, even though I know it is not our fault, per se. I think we have been lucky so far, in not traumatizing those we meet with the knowledge we hold, and the changes we bring.

And…what in the seven bloody hells was Aurelius getting at? Who spit in his oatmeal? Why, for the love of all the little gods and goddesses, did he keep going on about the gods-damned music? These are people, damn it, star-watched or no. I can’t help but feel he set up the disasters that followed. Can that boy not simply mind his tongue?!

…forgive me. I should not burden you with my frustrations, nor should I speak ill of others to you.

…my friend, you forget, perhaps, that I am with you in those moments. I am with you in pretty much every moment. And, at risk of…not divulging too much information, but of gifting you discomfort in a way I do not intend…I am very well aware of what you are feeling in those moments.

One generally abhors uninvited counsel, Wolf, but one cannot help but say…it is, perhaps, of concern that you are stifling such anger. One is not denigrating the experience of anger–one found it quite clarifying, in certain moments–but it is…it is unlike you, to bottle. To suppress. One thinks you know the danger in such an approach.

I…see. I was not aware. Every…emotion? Goddess bright.

I am aware that it is a less than optimal strategy, but I do not have an alternative. I thought we had reached some kind of…detente? Benign avoidance? And then he just goes out and…mm.

Not…every, shall we say, but when I am paying attention or–as with that encounter, invoked–I am, largely, aware of what you are aware of, feel what you feel. One has, ah, tried to be good about giving you space regarding your Yazhn, though your thoughts do turn to him at unexpected times…

Wolf, forgive me, but…for a man typically so good with emotions and communications, you refuse to talk to him. You have before–is there a reason now? I…find it unlikely that there would be anything of which I was not aware.

Talk to him about what? “Aurelius, I cannot for the life of me understand why you insist on treating people like puzzle-boxes to be pried open”? “Aurelius, why in the seven bloody hells did you get a burr up your breeches about hearing someone’s song”? “Aurelius, would it kill you to consider how the human being on across from you might react to your words”?

The man is blindingly intelligent, I cannot imagine that he is unaware of how he is acting! Which means that he’s doing it on purpose, and…how do I even begin to address that?

With all due respect and esteem, my companion…the man is a few months old. Intelligent, yes, but he is a new person living in what used to be the body of another, and his main source of input and inspiration can only be Jorule.

You are making assumptions. Even if you cannot well model the mind of the person across from you, you can still judge their actions on the board–and you cannot afford to fill in those gaps with anything less than sound information. If you do not have information, then your responsibility is to acquire it, not lament to the universe that the player across from you is not handing you a convenient listing of their thoughts and motivations! Your logic is in abeyance and your play is abysmal.

Use your mind and your words, yeresh. I have no patience for those with aptitude who remain in stubborn ignorance.

And before you ask, yes, I can very well feel that anger. If you are not the fool you have been showing yourself to be, you will make use of it. Have all the anger you want–use it to hone your blade to refute me, if you can. Or else turn your fire on yourself and see truth. Yours, to decide.

…gods above and below, Ayato. I do not think I have been so searingly scolded since I left my master’s care.

…nor do I think I have been so infuriatingly…and rightfully…scolded…

I beg your patience. I must think.

Please do. I will be enjoying a cup of tea.