ꙮ Finally, evensong is over with. Was Wolf in the grand hall, listening to the hymns? Was he participating, hymnal in his hands? Or was he waiting in the Temple’s halls, or in the stoa outside?
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#wolf
#yazhn ravhi
is inside the grand hall, in the back, listening–humming along, but doing so quietly. He suspects that, unlike with Silver-Throat’s crew, leading an impromptu improvisational sing-along would not endear him to many. He’s spent most of it watching Ravhi–studying him, the lines of his face, his body language, the expressions he makes as he leads his flock in prayer.
ꙮ Perhaps best to not improvise. Although the structure of the service lends itself towards it, in parts. Hymns tend to follow a call-and-response pattern; Ravhi sings a particular line, clear and loud and strong, and the congregation responds in unison with the next line of the hymn, and so on– but some are different, where Ravhi will sing a line, and then there will be silence, until someone within the congregation begins to sing a response, and the rest of the congregation winds their harmony around them. Never the same person twice, as far as you could tell, although maybe there are some who introduce a countermelody more frequently than others. It’s hard to tell from just one night of evidence. In any event, Ravhi looks– at home, here; the weight is off his shoulders while he’s leading the humans and Kin together in song and prayer. There’s joy in this, for him.
had to exert himself, a fair bit, to not be one of the respondents during that latter section–even the thought of getting all those voices to play around his was a bit intoxicating, but. Perhaps there’ll be time. He’ll ask permission first. Probably.
ꙮ More than once, Ravhi looked out over the congregation, looked all the way past all the familiar faces. Was there, then, yet another spark of joy in his eyes, when Wolf was still there? Perhaps. In any event, evensong has ended, and Ravhi left the stage.
filters his way to the outside of the temple with the rest of the crowd, waiting at a prearranged spot for his soon-to-be-guest. Grumbling a bit, admittedly, at having to put his hood up again–the burning sun is getting a bit wearying.
ꙮ You don’t have to wait long. ⁂
is following a Kin and some humans out of the Temple, addressing some concern or other of theirs, listening and passing some small judgement, or giving some words of advice - and his eyes caught Wolf and did something that rhymed with surprise, very very briefly, but he had business to finish conducting, and so it is for the small moments until the humans and Kin have reached some sort of satisfaction, and then Ravhi is there at the appointed place. “Shade and comfort, Wolf. What did you think of the evensong ceremony?”
: “Beautiful,” Wolf replies, with perfect honesty. “You’ll forgive me for saying it was more…improvisational? Than I expected.” He smiles, a little fangy, a little cheekily. “It was a struggle to be good. It was very tempting to…play.”
cannot repress a similarly-toothy smile out of the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps we ought to practice, then.”
grins and chuckles, though his cheeks are flushed from a little more than just the sun. “I assure you, I am quite well practiced. But it is a pleasure to learn new songs…” He smiles, and gently bumps his shoulder against Ravhi’s, and starts off towards Emberlight’s quarters. “But first, I have something to show you. Come on.”
lets out a soft puff of breath from his nose, and did you know that, under certain circumstances, a Kin’s scales can darken, slightly, around their horns and eyes? He doesn’t shift away from Wolf, and matches his pace, and so they stay aligned like that, occasionally brushing against one another as they walk. “I suppose the walk is short enough that asking what it is will result in an enigmatic smile?”
duly–and very smugly–gives an enigmatic smile. “How well you know me so quickly.” Wolf grins, and if he had a tail it would be wagging. “You’ve been so kind as to give us access to your records. I thought I’d show you our Library.”
rumble-laughs. “One of a Yazhn’s many duties is to know people. I believe I’m reasonably good at it.” But then he does get an answer, and he tilts his head to the side in anticipation. “I’m very much looking forward to seeing it.”
: “Good. I’m looking forward to showing it to you. It’s quite impressive. In many ways, I barely understand it, myself.” Wolf glances over at Ravhi. “That said, if it ever gets to be a bit…much…let me know.”
raises a single eye-ridge, slightly, eye shimmering in– not amusement, although there’s something a little like amusement there, but also, appreciation for the concern, a recognisance of a particular shared sense of awareness. “I shall.”
ꙮ And then the door to the shelter, and a reprieve from the Sun’s light.
leads Ravhi to the room where the Library’s tablet is being kept and lays it out on the table–careful to keep his thoughts to himself as he does so. No sense scaring the poor Kin unnecessarily. “Just touch your finger to it, and think about entering. I usually imagine myself walking through a door.”
tilts his head to the side slightly, reaches out, and nearly instantly turns to gold-and-alabaster.
chuckles and follows suit a moment later.
is standing in the main room of the Library, just– standing there, almost so that Wolf bumps right into him when he enters, staring up at the Sun, an utterly unreadable expression on his face.
says, quietly: “Welcome to the Library. Meet the Sun.”
attempts, valiantly, to form a sentence, at first, and instead simply moves aside a little that Wolf might stand side by side with him, or pass through further; he’s got his wits about him that much, at least, until another few moments pass, and he lowers his head, and clears his throat. “How… kind its light is.”
just gently leans until his shoulder is against Ravhi’s. “Yes. It is…remarkable.” He looks up at the Loving Sun with a wry expression. “We have, ah…both? Both of them, here. That switch over there–“ Wolf points. “Makes it be what we think is your Sun, Mu’s sun. But less…distant.” He grimaces. “It is much harder to bear. Simply staying in its presence enough to listen to it was…incredibly taxing.” Ravhi might know Wolf well enough at this point to catch when he’s being very understated.
lets out another soft snort and he turns to look at Wolf with another but very remarkably different expression on his face. “You… stood in its unmitigated Light? To… listen to it?”
looks…sheepish, not quite meeting Ravhi’s eyes. He eventually decides to look up at the Kind Sun instead. Safer that way. “It was…I knew we were going to come here eventually. And I had already dreamed myself to Mu the first time. I had hoped that by understanding Mu’s sun, I might understand what was happening with its world. That I might understand Mu better, and…be better prepared to help its people.” He does look at Ravhi, then–though his ear-tips are red. “For what it’s worth, I did learn something, though…as with so much of what we have learned, it did not so much grant answers as it raised more questions.”
’s gaze has not left Wolf’s face, the entire time; when Wolf turns to look back at him Ravhi meets his eyes. The scales around his eyes are dark. “Sun that wakes us, gold and true. What did it teach you?” More softly, “Did you, too, hear it sing of sorrow?”
nods, once, his cheeks flushed. “It is…caught. Trapped. In a moment of great injustice. A moment that has happened…and is happening…and will happen…all at once.” He looks away, then, eyes going distant, as several things seem to connect all at once. “Unmade. Incomplete. Waiting…” Wolf’s voice drops to a mutter, syllables more heard than understood dropping out of his mouth. *”…εἰμὶ ὁ ἄωρος, ὁ ἡμιτελής, ὁ διεσπασμένος…”
nods, once, and listens, and the soft white membrances blink over his eyes, twice. He does not follow the words Wolf sings - but he knows what it is like for truth to come suddenly in song, you think, and it does not seem to confuse him. Softly, almost to himself, thinking aloud rather than preaching Wolfwards in any way: “The Sun-sorrow teaches that that difference which we see between that which has happened, that which happens, and that which will happen, is a mirage; the God is making his sacrifice in this very moment, and the Garden that existed once, calls to us from afar, as would a voice from a distant hall, calling us to its side.”
looks up sharply at the word ‘Garden,’ then relaxes a bit–but his expression is now very thoughtful. “Indeed,” Wolf says–then smiles, the sharp look and pensive expression vanishing…for the moment, anyway. “Don’t let me woolgather,” he says. “There’s much still to see. Salme’s atelier first, I think…” And he walks over to the one particular bookshelf, and tugs the book that opens the way to the Annex–though his fingers brush the green book before they fix on the blue one.
watches, curiously, as the bookshelf slowly slides down into the floor to reveal the door behind it. Some small nod in satisfaction at the cleverness of the mechanism, from deep in the back of his thoughts.
leads Ravhi down the hall, past the doors for the Kitchen and the Rec Room, to the one marked with Salme’s sigil. He gently pushes the door open, and gestures Ravhi to step inside.
lets out a single surprised huff of breath out of his nose as he crosses the threshold into the Passageway, and then steps into the Atelier, and, for the second time tonight, his breath is taken away. “This is… Salme’s work, you said?” He reaches out- touches anything he can reach, which in this instance is just the wall, a skein of soft yarn hanging near the entrance.
: “Aye. Her Room, her atelier.” He smiles a little, watching Ravhi–though he takes a moment to turn his face to the soft Centrelight, and close his eyes beneath the familiar green-tinged glow. “The light here is from our world. Almachadta, and its Centrelight.”
steps over towards Wolf that he might bask in the light along with him, and while this light doesn’t seem to have had quite the effect on him as the light of the Loving Sun– he lets out an almost purring rumble in the back of his throat and tilts his head to the side to catch a little more of the light. “Your world is beautiful, then. I should like to see it sometime.”
: “I hope to show it to you,” Wolf says, but there’s a somber, sad edge in his voice. “If we can. If we can save it.” His voice is very quiet. “There’s not much time left.”
’s hand curls into a fist, by his side, and some would not notice it, but Wolf does. “My hope as well. There is -no one- I would not save, given the chance, even those I have not yet had the honor to meet. And to imagine beauty like this annihilated-“ -he shakes his head.
looks over at Ravhi for a long moment, searching his face for…something. Maybe even Wolf isn’t sure what. Then he smiles, gently. “In that, we are alike.” He takes a long look at the green-edged light, then takes a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. “We have no choice but to walk the path to its end. Whatever happens. And if…” His words, for the first time since the Sanctuary, grind into rough silence. Wolf swallows, and continues, his voice gravel. “…if we cannot save them, then I will fight to break the cycle for the next generation. For those who come after.”
says, softly, “Providing shade and comfort to all those who live is the Work of all those who live. We–“ -he cuts off, and then, more directly: “I. If it is within my power, I would stand with you in this.”
looks at Ravhi for a long moment, studies him, measures him–and there’s something about his expression that recalls icy shadow, and an endlessly beating heart, stricken and yet continuing. For a moment, he is not so much Wolf as the Wolf-that-Burns, Fire-Walker, yeresh…and then the moment passes, like clouds passing away from the moon, and he smiles, warmly. “I would welcome your strength. And lend mine to yours, as I may.”
is observed, and in being observed stands a bit taller, stands utterly without pride nor shame nor fear; he looks back with a Yazhn’s eyes, which are also his own. His scales flush dark, again. He does not have a response to this that fits into words, and so he simply nods in gratitude.
flushes a bit, suddenly, looks away at the Centrelight, and clears his throat. “Would you, ah…like to see my Room?” And he holds out his hand to Ravhi, a little hesitantly.
says, “I would like that very much, yes.” And there’s a brief moment, wherein some part of him wildly flails against– that Wolf is a human, that such intimacy with a human could not possibly– and what it could ‘not possibly’ be is stuffed with muffled yelping into a dusty and disused supply closet of the Yazhn’s mind, for Wolf is not of his world, and the usual laws are in abrogation, where he is concerned, and he takes Wolf’s hand, and lets himself be led out of the Atelier.
leads Ravhi down the side hallway, ignoring the way his ears seem to be on fire–can’t possibly be, not being either on Beast or Mu, but they burn nonetheless–stopping in front of the door marked with a sigil of a howling (singing?) wolf head, surrounded by an aura of flame. He looks back at Ravhi, with his best enigmatic smile. “Close your eyes. Trust me, it…you’ll understand why.”
closes his eyes, the scales around them darkening precariously for several reasons at once.
pushes open the door–letting out, perhaps, a bit of cool breeze–and gently leads Ravhi a few steps inside, letting the door close behind them. He lets go of Ravhi’s hand and steps around in front of him, so he has a clear and perfect view of the Kin’s face. “Ravhi…open your eyes.”
involuntarily takes an immediate breath of the cool breeze, and he feels it on his scales, because some senses are still his, and– you have not seen him, ever, with his eyes closed, you realise; you’ve seen him blink his nictitating membranes, but you’ve never seen him close his eyes, drop his vigilance for a moment, until now, until he closed them for you when you asked him to–
opens his eyes, and gasps, and that awe which he experienced in the Library’s main room is – well, the comparison wouldn’t do either reaction justice. His response here is different. He whispers a prayer upon the sight of beautiful and wondrous things, so silently that you can’t make out the words, for himself and for his God, and then he kneels, and presses a single clawed hand into the soft dirt under his feet, and looks back up at Wolf, and his mouth attempts to form words, and again it fails.
blinks, and looks rather alarmed, and hurriedly sinks to his own knees in front of the Kin, careless of the dirt he’s getting on his coat. (It’s a tough coat, it has absolutely seen worse.) He reaches out, hesitantly, for the other–to comfort, perhaps, or reassure? “I’m sorry,” Wolf says, sounding rather worried. “I didn’t think, it’s a…a lot…”
looks up, and– several ways he could silence Wolf’s concerns suggest themselves to him in quick succession, and all of the suggestions are– unhelpful in this context, and positively indecent besides, the sort of thing humans do, with humans, and they go in the dusty storeroom also to keep uncompanionable company with the previous concerns, and he lets out a long, slow breath through his nose. “Do not apologise for showing me beauty beyond my reckoning. I am simply overcome.” His claws gently play through the dirt, the– the moisture of it, the life. He breathes in, deep, breath unsteady.
: “Oh. Erm. Yes. I mean no. No apologizing.” Wolf looks chagrined, and then very quickly has to fight the urge to laugh hysterically at the absurdity of it all, which he mostly wrestles down to simply a very relieved smile, which quietly turns to a sort of warm, bone-deep pleasure and pride. “Welcome to, ah…well…I call it the Garden.”
half-lids his eyes, and murmurs, softly. “…the Garden will not be given unto us. We will have built it ourselves, with our own hands.” And he opens his eyes, and looks around, and– ducks his head, on acolyte’s impulse, like he’s creche-new, and breathes in the smell of the dirt, and laughs, shoulders shaking, or he cries, or possibly both. And then he straightens up– he’s got a bit of dirt on his nose– and looks at Wolf again. “Will you show me? I want to see it all.”
: “Well…I certainly didn’t bring you here to kick you right back out the door,” Wolf says–but he’s grinning in what he sure must be a very crazed expression as he says it, and then, on the most absurd impulse, he reaches up and gently brushes the dirt off of Ravhi’s nose with his thumb. “You, ah…had some on you…” Now his face is on fire.
absolutely, did not, at all, nuzzle Wolf’s hand while he brushed the schmutz off his nose. Under no circumstances would he have ever let himself do that. It just so happened that he was leaning forward to start getting up off the ground, and– well. His scales darken around his eyes and horns. Ahem. “Ah, yes. Well.” And he kneels there in the dirt, trying not to laugh at himself and at the world and at his God, in delight, for a moment, and not wanting to leave this moment but having a Garden to see, and finally, he stands. “Lead the way, then.”
leads Ravhi by the hand down the flower-edged path, his shoulder brushing up against the Kin’s the whole way. He shows the dock first–still boatless–and then the shrine-house and its garden…though he peers through the door a little first before he leads Ravhi inside, and is visibly relieved to find it empty. There’s now an empty tea-cup on the lap desk, however, and the wooden gaming-board is now covered with a strangely-compelling pattern of black and white stones.
takes several moments at the dock, going down to the water’s edge, running his hand through the water, because– they have pools, in the City, in buildings, and they have complex waterworks, but he has never seen water, like this, in any light, let alone a light like this, and he takes a moment, to remember forever the way that it feels, the way that the light refracts through it. And then he stands again, and follows Wolf to the shrine-house; he pauses, outside, admiring the omamori, without disrupting them with touch, before stepping inside - glancing at the game board in light, pleasant surprise. “Do they play the Encirclement Game on Almachadta, then? Or–“ This does not look like the vista afforded by Salme’s Atelier, but he does not know and cannot imagine the possibility-space of what this place could be, so he lets the question trail off.
blinks at Ravhi. “It’s known to you? Ah, no, this isn’t from Almachadta, it’s from…” Wolf clearly has to take a moment to try and figure out how he’s going to explain ‘the world of a character who escaped their story after it ended and somehow got stapled onto my soul’ to Ravhi, gives up after a couple of awkward seconds, and says, instead: “…it’s a favorite game of a friendly spirit we picked up on our travels. I think he lives here, sometimes.” He shrugs helplessly at Ravhi, expression screaming ‘please don’t make me explain.’
can swear he hears very polite snickering in the back of his head.
pulls his eyes away from the board, amused. “We play the Encirclement Game in the City, yes. I haven’t– had the chance to play, much, since my acolyte days, but I enjoyed it very much.” He lets out an amused puff of breath, and he bows, courteously, having without knowing it entered someone’s shelter, even if they are not home at present. “Shade and comfort, friendly spirit.”
twitches as–possibly completely coincidentally–the wind-chime out on the porch rings out clearly.
does not seem to believe it is a coincidence, and the corner of his mouth curls up toothily in a smile. He glances past Wolf– and if there’s a clear line of sight to the garden past the shrine-house, he admires that, too, lets his eyes trace over the delineations of it- and he does wish, rather badly, to ask very many questions, but it is a Yazhn’s duty to know people, and he knows that he shall not be asking any of those questions right now, and he steps out the door, again, to breathe deeply of the air.
: “Behave,“ Wolf mutters under his breath, as he steps out the front door and closes it behind him. (The silence sounds…amused.)
shakes himself–rather dog-like–and catches up to Ravhi. “One more stop.” He grins, a little–shyly. “Saved the best for last.”
’s scales darken, again. “Then I’m very much looking forward to seeing it.”
ducks his head, still smiling, and takes Ravhi’s hand again–the scales on the back of the Kin’s hand are surprisingly soft when Wolf rubs his thumb across them–and takes him down the last path, the northwards path…the one that winds, and seems to go on longer than it should. “I…didn’t make this Room,” Wolf admits, as they walk. “I made its Key. That…was an ordeal. Possibly an Ordeal. But this…” He looks up at the trees, at the light which might just be sunlight. “I think…I found it. Rediscovered it.”
lets out a puff of breath, and– his fingers gently press into Wolf’s hand, and it is warm, and– he has sat with humans, he has comforted them in their last or their worst moments, but he has never– it never even occurred to him– and now he knows what Wolf’s hand feels like, and will never be able not to know. “I believe that there are things which wait within tomorrow for us to find them today, like an engraving buried in the sands. Whether you found that engraving with the engraver’s chisel in a marble slab, or archaeologist’s brush, in either case it called to you, and it was found.”
: “I was in…a fey mood, when I made the key,” Wolf says, quietly. “I had dreamed myself to you again. It rested like an…itch, under my skin. Like a flash of gold, always at the edge of my vision. I needed…” He laughs, softly. “I don’t know what I needed. But..” Wolf looks over at Ravhi. “I think you’re a part of this, too.” He thinks of that flash of memory, of connection–and then it passes, as he realizes the quiet chime of crystal is getting louder. “We’re here.” ⁂
steps forward, with Ravhi, into the clearing of the Crystal Tree. 🙧
steps forward, with Wolf, and again, he is brought to utter silence and awe, and he reaches out, towards it - as if he could touch it from where he’s standing - listening to the chimes, looking around himself in wonder, and– a slight, inexplicable but comfortable sense of deja vu. “Oh. Oh, it’s beauty. Beauty itself. So peaceful…”
looks, briefly–startled. “Did you see–“ He glances over at Ravhi and the words die in his throat, but his brow remains a little furrowed, even as he drinks in the other’s awe. “Come closer. Come say hello.” He gently tugs Ravhi over to the tree, and puts his free hand on it–the other firmly still twined with Ravhi’s. “Meet Ravhi. I told you I’d bring him to see you.” If Wolf’s at all self conscious about talking to a tree, it doesn’t show. Then again, it is clearly not a normal tree.
steps closer, as soon as Wolf says the words it breaks him from his reverie, but then Wolf -tugs- him over and he laughs and splays his hand on the trunk next to Wolf’s, scales dark. And it doesn’t seem at all strange to Ravhi to be talking to a tree, because he says, “Hello. Shade and comfort–“ –and it briefly strikes him that he’s wishing shade and comfort to this provider of heretofore-unimaginable quantities of both, and he laughs, softly– “–to you, as I accept yours in turn.”
smiles, and finally lets go of Ravhi’s hand so that he can sit in one of the hollows made by the Tree’s roots, which just so happens to be big enough for two to sit comfortably…if they sit close. Wolf closes his eyes and rests his head back against the Tree’s trunk, taking a deep breath as he bathes in the forest breeze, and the chiming of crystal leaves that seems closer to a melody than ever.
nestles down in the hollow of the roots. ‘Close’ is perhaps an understatement - and, with the whimsy and unselfconsciousness of a creche-new acolyte his arm is– not quite /around/ Wolf’s shoulders, but it’s really the only place to put it.
is just a little stiff under the touch–unused to it, really–but he relaxes quickly enough, his breathing relaxing and evening out, to the point where you might think he was dozing. And then, without opening his eyes: “Ravhi? May I ask you something?”
had closed his eyes, too, and– you get the impression that it has been a very long time, since he curled up like this with his creche-kin, that it’s something he did not expect to do again, that he certainly did not expect to be feeling thus as he did so– but that this is shade and comfort, and shade and comfort are holy things, and his too. “Of course you may.”
takes several long breaths before he speaks again. “When I first saw you…” His face tightens at the memory, even here in this peace. “You were weeping. You held two crystals.” His eyes open, and he looks at Ravhi, with a deep compassion and care clear on his face. “You seemed a branch bent near to breaking, beneath a weight that I could not see, and that…is what wrenched my heart, and drove me to cry out to you. That weight is on your shoulders still.” ‘Except when you’re with me’ goes unspoken, yet hangs in the air as he gathers his thoughts. ⁂
: “Ravhi,” he says, and his voice is not that of Wolf-the-wanderer, but the terribly kind gentleness of Wolf-the-yeresh. “What is it, in your duty, that steals away your hope?”
looks– not embarrassed. Not chagrined. Not even upset that Wolf observed him so, which fact itself shocks him, slightly. Just– a complicated expression crosses his face. Softly: “I had taken two humans I loved to their Rest. And I–“ –he would never admit this to any Kin or human of the City, is what he does not say, or even to any of the other wanderers– “–God Is, He beckons to us from tomorrow. But if– you said that to make the Key to this Garden took an Ordeal. It is the same for us. It is the Ordeal of our Work, Wolf, and it never ends while we are awake for the first time.” He breathes in, slowly, and then breathes out, and breathes in again; listens to the chimes. “What if we cannot do the Work?” And a longer pause, and much, much quieter, almost whispering. “And now I ask myself: what if the Work has a cost which we could not have imagined?”
listens, intently, as if each word is precious. Perhaps, because they are. Softly, gently: “Is the Work simply its completion, Ravhi? Or is it also in the path walked upon the journey towards it? And those…who we walk alongside, as we move along the road?” Wolf-green eyes find the gold of Ravhi’s. “What is a legacy…except planting seeds in a garden we will never get to see? It is not given to us to know the ending. It is given to us to live, and love, and do the best we may–following the example of those who have come before, lighting the way for those who come after.” ⁂
lays a hand on Ravhi’s knee, comfortingly. “Tell me. Share the burden. What cost do you fear, Ravhi? What price, the Work?” 🙧
exhales, slowly, haltingly, and he leans his own head back against the tree, presses against it enough to feel the bark against his scales. He has to. He has to. “We wake for an eye-blink. I will never know those who came before me; those who come after will not know me, until the Day when we awaken truly. And–“ –he shakes his head, he gets his thoughts in order. “What can I do, what will I have done, when I go to my rest, to ensure the Work is done? To ensure that I did not lie to those two humans, in their last moments before their rest? That I will see them again, some bright day?” He blinks, repeatedly. “That is what I worried about before.” ⁂
continues. “And then you came. And when we first spoke– the fire itself had told me of your coming. ‘The God gives signs and portents to those with the watchfulness to see them, that faith might be renewed and not merely kept.’ And-“ –and you spoke with His voice, and your voice has not left me, has not stopped echoing in my thoughts, he does not say– “-the God deals in determinacy, Wolf. He does not throw dice. If your companion, Salme, is correct, about the Rite of Renewal, lining up with catastrophe and death. I told you. ‘If it is within my power, I would stand with you in this.’ What if I cannot hold that promise, and the Work? When I–“ –he cuts off, strangled, unable to continue. 🙧
cups Ravhi’s face in his hands, oh so gently, oh so warm and solid. “Then we will face it together. Ravhi. There are no guarantees. We do not even understand, exactly, why the world is this way. All we know…is that it is the echo of the echo of the echo of decisions made long ago, before any of us were ever born. Ravhi.” Wolf’s voice is soft, and rough, and so very sure. “I do not even know if it is possible that the worlds can be saved. Hope…faith…these are not things of certainty. I am certain of only one thing. That I will take the next step, and the next, and the next, until there are no more steps left to take. And then, if need be, with the last of my strength, I shall fling a light into the future, that it might be picked up by another, in some later day.” ⁂
: “You do not need to be certain. You do not need to fulfill that which may not be ours to fulfill. All that is asked of us, Ravhi, is to lay as many bricks on the foundation as it is in our capacity to lift. Even if it is just one. Even if it is just a single stone. To be. Ravhi. That is all any of us have.” Softly: “They lived. They loved. I do not know if you will see them again. But they had the opportunity to know you, even once. They were blessed.” He smiles, just a little. “As am I.”
exhales, softly. Once, when Wolf speaks to him with that Voice, and– Wolf feels the shiver from the core of him, to- to be tangled in the roots of a tree, his face held by– that, alone, nearly undoes him, and he could not do but listen. If the God sends signs and portents, it is his to listen and believe, and even if he– even if he did not feel as though he must, he would, his heart would clamor for it. “So certain, about uncertainty. And I am so uncertain about that which– that which I know in my heart is certain.” Another exhale. He could argue. Part of him wishes, very badly, to argue. It would be right to - to explain that this waking is but an eyeblink, a rounding error on a Zvahr balance-sheet, compared to the Day to come. And yet… ⁂
makes a choice, for the moment, for this moment, and you can feel some of the tension drain from him. He is sure he is not the only Yazhn of Yazhn who has wrestled with these questions. There is much he does not know, and cannot know, and will not discern in the next five moments. And Wolf is here, right now, and he does not discard his concerns, and he does not put them in the store-room with the other thoughts he refused to permit, earlier, either. He holds them, but not too tightly, as he pitches forward, very slightly, so that the flat of his forehead presses against Wolf’s, gently, almost but not quite hesitantly.
shivers, through the core of him, and presses his forehead to Ravhi’s, feels their breaths intermingling, feels a closeness–a oneness–that he had not expected to ever feel outside the rhizomatic entangling of methexis. “Then lend me some of your certainty. And I shall lend you mine. And together, we will be stronger than we were apart. Ravhi.” He closes his eyes, and smiles, and maybe there are such things as perfect moments, at least beneath the crystalline branches of unearthly, once-was trees. “You are not alone.” And it is true.