ꙮ A balcony, some ways up one of the two towers of Cloudset, the one closer to the new island. It’s got a good view of it. There was tea, and it was a mildly raucous affair, with Silver-Throat’s Glass-Ship crew and most of Cloudset come down to meet you, Ksenija’s sprawling family-of-choice saying hello to strangers (a thing they all seemed very intent to do) and old friends (the crew and Cloudset’s inhabitants know each other well; the ship comes here often.) Then Silver-Throat and Ksenija wandered off to catch up - and for Silver-Throat to get Ksenija’s read of all that happened - but over tea, she’d mentioned to Wolf that she wanted to talk to him, while they had the chance, and so now she’s looking around for him. There aren’t that many places for a person to be, in Cloudset, particularly not if you’ve not the familiarity of the place.
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- The Dragon
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← Active ScenesA Cloudset Balcony, I
, for his part, is leaning on the balcony, singing softly to himself as he looks out over the new island, a smile still playing around his lips. The great peak of joy has worn off, of course, but his heart is full, and as it always does with him, it comes out in song. “An old man by the seashore, at the end of day, gazes the horizon with sea-winds in his face…tempest tossed islands, seasons all the same…anchorage unpainted and a ship without a name…”
’s fingers tap a gentle, heart-beat rhythm on the rail as he sings, his voice light, the tune…straddling that careful line between joy and melancholy.
approached quietly enough that Wolf just hears her voice joining his, weaving wordless counterpoint, until he reaches the end of the verse he’s singing, and she’s leaning on the balcony too, gazing out at the island.
smiles at her, warmly, chuckles. “Mmm, you tempt me, madam. It’s been a long time since I’ve sung with such a skilled voice.” He looks out over the island again, his expression rapt, and tinged with wonder. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
grins sideways at him (and you suddenly Understand Caion’s sideways-grin, and where it came from). “Wasn’t more than a few lumens ago you sang with my Crew, Wolf. Don’t think we’ve forgotten that any hour soon.” And then, deliberately quieter: “It’s absolutely stunning. Been to the ends of the Sea, and never saw the like.”
: “Fire, earth, and water, all in one,” he says, almost to himself. “That’s the key. Three legs to stand on. Not one, not two.” There’s a fierce determination and joy that seeps into his tone, into the set of his jaw. “That’s how we’ll do it. Not three, not one…together.”
: “Stands to reason. Not an Irós that’s lived as could sing even a tiny raft home on their own.”
: “No. Not much we can achieve alone.” Wolf smiles at her, sidelong. “If I may, madam. I’ve been hoping to speak with you. Caion told me something about the Irós, and I would seek your counsel. But I fear my question may seem impertinent, or strange.”
: “Only if I can ask the questions I’ve been meaning to ask you.” She shifts to face him a little more - but still keeps the island in her vision. “Anyways, I’ve raised up enough of Whisker-Clan and taught enough Irós to have scoured out every fishbasket of impertinent questions. Worst thing you can do is pleasantly surprise me with something novel.”
: “Which you’ve all already done.” She gestures, islandwards, whiskers twitching in amusement.
’s mouth works at that–like a laugh he’s not quite letting to the surface. “Yes, well.” He looks out at the new island for another long moment, and when he turns his eyes back to Silver-Throat, his wolf-green eyes are as deep and intent as the Sea. “Do you dream of mountains?”
gets her gaze turned from the island, by that, and meets his own. Nods. Quietly: “When I was an apprentice, I wanted to travel the Sea looking for one. Knew if I went far enough in some direction, I’d see one. Never did. Septentrione’s the closest thing we’ve got in the waking world. Where you’re from… is that where they’ve been hiding this whole time?”
smiles, slightly. “No. It is not. And yet, I dream of mountains,” he says, voice soft and low. “I dream of a peak so high it seems to split the sky itself, capped in white snow…and the land from which I hail has no snow, nor peaks, nor a sky so wide and blue it seems to swallow the world entire. And until now…I was the only being I knew who had dreamed of such.”
lets out a slow breath, and peers at Wolf, curiously, and a little– not sad, but something close by. “The only one? That must’ve been lonely. Not every Irós dreams of… mountains. But enough of us that we’ve words for the things we see. The healing-mountain, for one.”
inhales sharply. “Lyfjaberg,” he breathes, swallowing hard. “That is its name. In a language I have never known any being to speak.” “Healing-mountain,” he says, and the sound is the same, but the meaning comes clear.
wriggles her whiskers, like she’s smelling the word for the first time. “Well, now I want to ask Ery about if they ever heard a word like that while I’m here. I doubt it, though.” She looks distant. “Never caught the -word- for it. And we didn’t have the words for that song you sang, just now, either.” A soft smile. “But the senses of things… aye.” A pause, and she ventures, “The distant tower, too?”
nods, slowly; his voice is rough and hesitant. “…a tower of perfect, shining white, like alabaster? But too tall for alabaster, too perfect for stone. Like a…nail, driven into the earth itself? The center of a city, great and shining, greater than any you’ve ever seen?”
: “And a crystal blacker than the darkest clouds, but glowing, from the inside. Could never… get too close, could never get through the thick of the…” -she gestures, vaguely.
chuckles, softly, humorlessly. “The swamp.” He smiles a little. “And no, my home doesn’t have those either.”
: “Swamp.” She frowns. Glances out at the island. “I like those better.” Shakes her head, vigorously, and her tail thuds against the balcony rail. She’s quiet, for a bit. “…now, why’ve we had the same dreams, Wolf?”
he laughs, leans back from the railing, gripping it so he tilts back at a precarious angle. “Oh, I wish I knew. I…” He inhales, rocks back. “I admit I am still (rotating) not being the only one who does.” He gives a wry smile, a sidelong glance. “Everyone from…my home…knows of the Song, knows that the yeresh can hear it, sometimes, in certain rites, on certain days. But I…I always heard it. I don’t remember ever not waking to that endless, ever-changing melody. Seeing the fragmented images it drew into my mind, the words never spoken…” He takes a deep breath in, lets it out. “I don’t know. But I never was able to shake the feeling that I was seeing something real. Or…something that used to be real.”*
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tilts her head to the side, eyes bright and curious. “What do you hear here, Wolf?” She -says- it like she already knows the answer– no, part of the answer, but is looking for the piece that fills in the puzzle.
starts to open his mouth, stops, head tilted to the side…and then, slowly, extends an open hand. “May I show you?”
quirks a corner of her mouth up in a curious smile, and reaches her paw over to take his hand. “Only one way to find out, right?” She hums a note.
wraps long, strong fingers around her paw, finds the third above her note…and adds just a bit of flourishing gnosis–the resonance that allows meaning to carry, the flicker of Salme’s “rhizome,” closing the gap–less a Circle and more of a Link–and quietly reaches inside himself for where that Song always resides, and opens himself to it, opens wide…
…the Song pours out of him, through him–they are not one, not two, they are song-and-singer, call-and-response, and you would have to be deaf not to hear, you would have to be dead not to hear it…
sees her face, through Wolf’s eyes. Sees herself, blinking her eyes. Sees herself nodding to the familiar rhythm, tail swishing in time with the Sea’s secret pulse, its rises and its falls.
ꙮ Wolf sees his own eyes, bright and shining. Feels her sudden recognition of the Song as if it is his own.
…sees himself from the outside, sees his face transfixed, feels a tail swishing between him and oh the joy the delight to have such a gift…
ꙮ This is not a thing which he has experienced, before.
…not one, not two, not separate not apart, no time, nothing but the Song…
…and then it fades, and there is only one of him, and he swallows hard, and tears run down his face, but the smile on his face is wonder, and it is joy.*
feels the Song she’s heard, she’s translated into music played with body and instrument, conducted as her Glass Ship danced homeward across the waves, pouring through the self they shared- and then she is just her own self, again, and she exhales in mild shock, and has not let go of his hand, utterly lost for words, not blinking -away- the tears but seeing her own world in a new light.
swallows hard, again, and when he speaks his voice is light and rough all at the same time, barely steady. “It is beautiful, is it not?”
trusts herself to nod, and squeeze his hand with her paw, and it takes her a few moments to collect herself enough to do more than that, but. “Oh. Yes. Yes, it is. I. When I’m conducting my ship, I…”
smiles, just a little sheepishly. “I couldn’t not join you, that ride…it would have been…impossible. I think I understand. Just a little.” Wolf gently lets her hand go, turning his face back out to the Sea, feeling the salt-breeze dry the salt tears on his skin, recollecting himself a little. “I did not…expect that to be quite so…intense.” He laughs, a little. “I am, ah, rather glad I tried that with you before I tried it with Caion. He’s asked if he could Circle with me, so as to hear the Song, and I…may have added a technique Salme spoke of, from her Mask…”
smiles back. “Was a joy to have you join us. A surprise, but certainly a joy.” She faces the Sea as well, breathes in, lets the wind rustle her whiskers. Listens, then laughs, a little bit. “You’d melt the poor boy into a puddle. I– Sea’s edge, Wolf, that wasn’t Circling. I don’t know what it was but a Circle was a tealight next to it.” She doesn’t sound like it’s a complaint, mind you. “Like my Circle was a question this whole time that you had the answer to in your pocket.” Shakes her head, laughing, in wonderment.
: “I don’t know either,” he says, rubbing the back of his head a little sheepishly. “Less a Circle, more a…Link, perhaps.” Wolf does look rather chagrined. “And here I’ve been lecturing poor Salme and Aurelius about rash experiments. But…mmm.” He smiles. “I suppose it might be a bit of an anticlimax, at this point, to ask what questions you have for me. After that.”
snorts, prodigiously, and looks like if circumstances were in some indefinite way slightly different, she’d swat at him. “Don’t apologise for– for that. Goodness. I just– well.” Snorts, again, softly. “I think you answered the questions I had while asking your own, actually. Or, well, I have other questions, but I’m confident the answers are ‘I don’t know’ and ‘no, I can’t drop everything I’m doing and sail with you and your Crew for a year, I’m terribly sorry, deepest regrets’, so.” She smirks, slightly. “Given me some things to think about, you have. And… showed me something I couldn’t have ever imagined. Can’t really ask for more’n that, I don’t think.”
smiles, almost shyly. “I wish I could, truly. To sail the seas alongside you would be an adventure beyond compare.” His eyes are drawn, inexorably, to that new and anchored island. “My road goes elsewhere, I am afraid. Where my companions are bound, I must follow.” Wolf sighs, then smiles wryly. “But I must cast out sorrow. Lady, you have given me a gift beyond compare. And I will never forget it, no matter where my path may lead.”
is, for not the first time in her life, terribly grateful that it’s next to impossible to tell when a Kushtaka is blushing, and she gives him an oddly familiar formal bow. “Never apologise for being true to your companions, either, Wolf. I don’t plan on hanging up my hat any time soon, besides. Come back with stories to tell and a song in your heart, and I’ll show you every corner of the Sea.”
he smiles, gently and brightly, and gives a very similar bow right back–but instead of hand-on-fist-over-heart, both hands are spread over his heart. “I will, lady, I promise.” Wolf grins, just a little cheekily. “You might even believe some of them.”