ꙮ Morning, or what passes for it on Mu. There’s never night, here, properly - just a long, drawn-out, crepuscular period, where the Sun lingers on the horizon like an angry red blister, shimmering over the dunes. Six or seven hours of mercy before the Sun climbs back into its proper place to scowl down at the world. There’s a common-room, where Emberlight are dwelling for the time being; it has high, thin windows that admit as little of the Sun’s light as possible, just enough to illuminate the space, to herald the day.
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#dyu
#archie
#saint
emerges from her room into the common area. She’s shifted back into her Samudra clothes for the time being, as it seems like they’ll see very little combat in The City for the time being, and, aside from some special requests made to the Vehru, she hasn’t yet had time to peruse The City’s own textiles for something appropriate.
studies the sunlight illuminating the space, and after a brief moment of consideration, passes her hand directly into its path.
ꙮ It does not feel pleasant.
: “Why,” she murmurs, either to herself or to you, “Are you so very furious?”
endures the pain for another moment, before pulling it back into the shade.
-knocks on the door to the common room- “Good morning, travelers! May I come in?”
blearily stumbles out of his room, squinting his eyes even at the comparably modest light of morning. The feeling of being dubiously rested seems almost comforting to him in its familiarity, a reminder of his days spent rising through the ranks of the Academy. This time, however, his late-night efforts were more sartorial than academic - the white robe Salme gifted him now has been infused with a thin layer of tenebrous gnosis to offset the horrible burning feeling from the other day without sacrificing on its lightness or style. It bears embroidery done in glossy white thread against the white cape, which reveals a shimmering image of a pair of playful otters, one on each arm, and a wood campfire radiating out light in six directions on the back as they catch the light. Now, however, he looks more like a blob of gorgeous white fabric shuffling its way towards the snacks on the common room table.
is immediately at the door, opening it for him. “Of course,” she says. After resting—a night that involved at least several starts of wakefulness and staring intently at Aurelius’ sleeping form to make sure he was still breathing—she seems to be in a significantly better mood. Her smile is genuine when she greets Yazhn Dyu and she invites him in to their temporary home.
: “…mmmwlcmmm,” he manages to mumble out through a mouthful of food.
waves at Archie’s sleepily billowing form.
he enters, giving a smile and a bow, taking in the sight of his Teacher’s honored guests. “I hope you both slept well?” Eyeing the new garb that adorns Archie, “My, the embroidery on your garment is -exceptional-!”
returns the wave with an attempt at a twirling flourish, made somewhat less impressive by the still-galacial pace of his movements. “G’morning, and thank you! I gave it my best effort, though if you want to see exceptional, you’re looking to the wrong one of us. Salme’s needlework is much finer than mine.” It’s true - the closer you get, the more the tiny imperfections become apparent, tiny holes where a needle tried time and again to find its proper path and ultimately mostly succeeded.
was focused on the guest, so hadn’t looked too closely, but now she does. “Oh! You were holding out on me, talent-wise.” She gets closer to peek at the embroidery, and grins. “This is outstanding.”
ꙮ The food available is very very wholesome and filling, if not nearly as daring as Samudra and the Beast’s offerings. There’s a big pot of some sort of porridge, sweetened with dates and chopped-up pieces of fig, and a sweet brown sauce that can be ladled onto it as much, or as little, as one might prefer; there’s also some crumbly bread, and a surprisingly versatile selection of citrus marmalades to go on it.
feels the tips of his ears go pink, concealed as they are beneath the hood. “You flatter me! It’s an early attempt. You inspired me to try working with my hands rather than relying purely on gnosis-work. And as a matter of practical consideration, I’m out of slate.” The last sentence comes out a little sheepishly, which he quickly hides by crunching down on a particularly heavily-marmaladed piece of toast.
fixes herself a bowl of the porridge, but only takes a small ladle of brown sauce, and a small sampler of pieces of bread with citrus marmalades. “Yazhn Dyu—or do you just prefer Dyu—can I offer you anything?”
nods, gesturing to the spread.
feels a little silly, since its probably his food more than theirs, but. Hospitality probably counts for something?
-gives a warm rumble- “The offer is greatly appreciated, however, I ate breakfast before i made my way here. I do hope the spread is to your liking; the porridge is especially good with a bit of the sauce and dipped into with the bread. It softens the crust a bit.”
he looks to Salme. “While I am here, the one that we rescued…Aurelius, yes? How is he doing?”
: “Thank you for the tip,” she says, and immediately gives it a try. It is very good, subtly sweet and filling, and she didn’t have to cook it, which means it’s some of the best food she’s ever had. “And the embroidery is excellent, Archie. Don’t downplay your talents. I’m trying not to downplay mine either.”
: “Yeah, Aurelius. He’s doing fine. Said he felt better than he did before he—before whatever happened.”
nods appreciatively to Salme and follows Dyu’s suggestion. His eyes widen in surprised delight, but with how bleary they are, it just makes him look normal. “Thank you indeed! A healer on the battlefield and in the kitchen. You and Luĉja will get along well.”
smiles, “I’m full glad. Apologies for not checking in sooner, as ever, the Work Continues.”, he adds with a chuckle, “And it’s nothing much, just something I’ve picked up over the years in the Temple.”
ꙮ Dyu’s also done some needlework, too, for that matter, as it happens.
tilts her head at him. “What is that like? At the temple? If you don’t mind sharing? The Work is terraforming, yes? But it seems to extend far beyond that as well.”
: “Not at all! I am happy to answer any questions you may have! You are correct about the terraforming; we are working towards returning the desert to that of a garden, plot by plot, piece by piece. We also strive to maintain the City in the most sustainable way we can, as we have, and continue to do. For my part, I am among the Kin healers of the Temple; our duties are to counteract the Sun-Sickness the humans endure.”
: “Are Kin not subject to the Sun-Sickness in the same way?”
: “While the Sun may -harm- the Kin, Sun-sickness is a uniquely human affliction.”
nods with curiosity. “But your healing abilities seem to extend beyond Sun-sickness, yes? Unless Elemental attacks inflict Sun-sickness on humans?”
nods in agreement. “And what is Sun-sickness then? I assume, as Archie said, it’s not whatever that elemental—“ She flounders for words for a moment, before ending with, “did…?”
nods, “Aye, my abilities extend beyond Sun-sickness. From a young age, I showed talent in the healing arts, so I have trained for many years. To that end, it may be better to -show- you, rather than just give an explanation. How about I show you both to the infirmary, you can get a proper idea of how it effects the humans here?”
: “Not to appear overeager to see human suffering, but I would like that? I at least do better with practical examples. I’ll get my things.”
ꙮ Outwith the building which is your shelter and refuge from the Sun: There’s a covered walkway from here all the way to the Temple. It makes the distance a little easier to traverse. Not easy, of course, but easier. You probably don’t have to gear up the way you would if you were going out into the desert proper, at least.
nods, covering his head in the cloak regardless. “I’m curious to learn more of this affliction and its treatment, as well.” He leans against the nearest wall for a moment, waiting for Salme’s return.
disappears into her room a moment then pops back out, cloak thrown over her shoulders, carrying the satchel she got used to carting around back in Queenstown. As they head to the infirmary, she does admire the covered walkway, the amount of work it took to make the City hospitable.
ꙮ Not every walkway is covered– but this close to the Temple, most of them are, and so you’re out of the direct light of the Sun as you go from your shelter, to the broad-treaded stairs leading into the Temple’s stoa where the Kinder, Gentler Path gnosis-knot waited to be unraveled; Dyu leads you into the Temple proper, down a corridor and then another, into a set of interior chambers, completely isolated from the Sun’s light.
ꙮ There’s a Vehru there, who recognises Dyu – and whom Dyu recognises, Vehru Sohli – who nods to him, and glances at the others– but if they’re with Dyu, it must be fine. You’re getting a sense of which golden pins in white robes are emblems of service - both Dyu and Sohli have a particular pin, two snakes wound around a pole. Softly: “Good day, Yazhn Dyu. Good day, far-wanderers.”
: “Good day, Vehru Sohli.”
ꙮ ”Are you come to tend to Ardith?” There’s some concern in her voice, but– there’s always some concern in Sohli’s voice, isn’t there?
does bob a quick, polite curtsy when Vehru Sohli greets them, but otherwise does keep her mouth shut. Politely!
hearing the concern in her voice, you can see that Dyu takes the briefest of moments to compose himself before he responds. “That I am, but also, our guests had many questions regarding the Sun-sickness, and I thought it best for them to receive their answers first-hand.”
gives a polite, sensitive, barely-perceptible nod.
ꙮ She glances over Salme and Archie, the briefest of glances, and nods. If they’re with Dyu, it’s obviously alright. She moves, just the slightest bit, to the side. Beyond her: A hallway lined with doors, each leading to a private room. Dyu heads towards one in particular. Ardith’s been here for weeks, now. The door’s shut, but not locked.
he rap taps on the door, “Ardith, friend, may I come in?”
ꙮ From behind the door: “Dyu, my dear friend. Of course you may.” The voice sounds– tired, but joyful. “Afraid I still can’t quite greet you at the door, though.”
does his best to brighten his countenance, even as he finds himself worried about what exactly he may see on the other side of the door.
he opens the door with a smile, “Never you mind about that! Good morning, my dear friend. How are you feeling today?”, he says as he enters the room, and moves to the side of the bed. “Oh, please excuse my company, these are two of Teacher’s guests, Salme, and Archie. This is Ardith, a very close friend of mine.”
ꙮ The room’s not terribly large - it doesn’t need to be. There’s a bed, soft and comfortable, and in the bed there’s a human – their age is impossible to place. They’re incredibly frail, their hair streaked with grey; most noticeable, though, are the nodules of iridescence bulging out of their skin. Their knuckles, their forehead - like a horn, almost, overshadowing one of their eyes. They seem in good spirits, regardless, though – at least, to see Dyu, and to see Dyu with friends. They grin. “Guests, you say? Come here, come here. We’ve never had guests before. What a thing to get to see–“ –and they peer at Salme and Archie, curiously, taking in every detail.
he smiles widely, “Oh! You should see the embroidery on their garments! They did it themselves!”, he turns to Salme and Archie, “Ardith actually tutored me in the ways of needlework; it gives my hands something to do while my brain winds down in my free time.”
ꙮ Ardith immediately– well, no. Nothing they do is immediate. But they motion for Archie and Salme to come closer that they might look at the embroidery. Vehru Sohli’s in the doorframe– not protectively, really, but observing.
lowers her hood and smiles brightly. “I’m Salme,” she volunteers. She notes the nodules of iridescence but doesn’t have much of a reaction, but immediately brightens when needlework is mentioned.
can’t help but take a sharp inhale at the sight, imagining how painful it must be, but he quickly tries to conceal it beyond a squeaky cough and a broad, not-insincere smile. “Is that so! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ardith.” He approaches slowly and calmly, removing the hood of his cloak so Ardith can see him properly. “That would make me Archie, in case that wasn’t obvious.”
his eyes catch Vehru Sohli’s, and he gives the slightest nod in acknowledgement, for he, too, is observing.
removes her cloak from her shoulders, and presents it so Ardith might examine the Emberlight sigil on the back, and also selects one of the panels from her skirt to show the dark blue, almost black, flowers embroidered at the hem. “I also have some projects in my bag but—forgive me. It’s been some time since I’ve met anyone who’s also interested in needlework.” Though her eyes flick to Archie like she might have Future Plans for him.
catches Salme’s glance and extends a sleeve towards Ardith. “Mine was meant to mostly be visible in the light, but you can still imagine the design by feel.”
ꙮ They reach out, shakily, running their fingertips over the embroidery. There’s a softly-glowing crystal in a sconce, providing enough light for them to see the embroidery- and they gasp with delight. “Oh, and that’s a pattern I’ve never seen before. How wonderful.”
ꙮ ”Teach that to Dyu, for me, will you?” They look up - the eye that’s overshadowed by the iridescence is, you realise, no longer viable, so they’ve got their head tilted in a certain way, to get a good look at all of you. And then they look back to Dyu– “And what about the project you’ve been working on, my friend?”
he gives a soft, sheepish laugh, “Though you have taught me everything you know, my skills aren’t quite to your caliber, I’m afraid. And my project proceeds apace. As in all things, the Work Continues.”
ꙮ They seem relieved, at that, and smile, leaning back into a pile of soft pillows.
tilts her head at Dyu. “Does it matter? The caliber of your skill? If you don’t have your work with you then that’s one thing, but I’d love to see anything you make.” She looks at Ardith and Archie as well. “Anything anyone makes, really. I think I’ve lived my entire life with a needle in hand, but there’s always wonder to be found in someone else’s work. Even its imperfections.”
ꙮ A corner of their mouth curls up in a smile, at Salme’s words.
reaches into her bag and pulls out … something lumpy and strange and uneven, that resembles, of all things, a cheesecloth. “This is my first piece of weaving on a treadle loom from not too long ago. It’s really horrible. But my—friend, the first person I ever shared it with, looked at it like it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen.” She sets it, gently, in Ardith’s lap so they might touch it. She looks at Archie. “That’s how I felt seeing your otters.”
ꙮ They close their good eye, -just- running their fingertips over the fabric, and they grin, ear to ear. (And shift, around, slightly, to try and get comfortable. It seems like a challenge.) “Your friend knew what they were about. And you’ve kept at it, I hope?” They grin, in Salme’s general direction, eye still closed.
turns quiet, his eyes misty.
he lets out a soft rumble. “Perhaps I can show you both some things I’ve done, sometime.” he looks to his friend, watching them with a wistful smile. “That said, I get the sense we should let you get some rest. Thank you, my friend, for indulging this impromptu meeting.”
ꙮ ”I’d like that very much.” They smile, and nestle back into the pillows. “Thank -you-, my friend, for the unexpected gift.”
: “I’ve kept at it. Gotten quite good, even.” She smiles, pleased with herself, and then hesitates. “Thank you, Ardith. It was good to meet you.” She does carefully bundle her cheesecloth-weaving back into her bag, and hesitates for a moment. “And, if it is permitted, I’d be happy to come visit while I’m here. If you’d like any company. I can bring some of my work.”
: “Thank you for the gift of your company, if only for this short while. I’d also like to be back, though it may not be for a few days. You’ve inspired me to make something special.”
: “It is, ever and always, my pleasure, my friend.” he kneels down at the edge of the bed, and takes one of Ardith’s hands into his own. “Now, let me ease your weariness abit before we go.”
draws back to give Dyu room to work.
they both close their eyes, and you can watch the shimmer of Radiant gnosis surround Dyu, and reach out to envelop Ardith. He speaks his incantation, softly this time. “Retrace…and spin…the thread of memory…even if a thousand men forget, the beauty you once were. Cast off your withered body, and be reborn. Bathed in the God’s eternal light, may your wounds be, nevermore!”*” The light covers them both, but only for a few monets, you can see it doesn’t have quite the effect it had on your first meeting.
watches carefully, truly observing Dyu’s work for the first time.
as the light fades, he stands up. “Now, get yourself some rest, okay?”, he decides protocol be damned, and leans over to give Ardith a gentle hug.
ꙮ Dyu spins light over Ardith’s form, and – the iridescent protuberances do not melt back into their body, they do not lessen, in the least. But Ardith sighs, softly, and smiles, and lines of pain and weariness withdraw from their mien, as the Radiant light does its careful work, and they fall, almost immediately, into a pleasant sleep, smiling again out of the corner of their mouth at the hug.
: “Do you heal with only radiant gnosis?”
ꙮ Vehru Sohli makes a very subtle movement which leaves the doorway free for you to depart.
shuffles quietly out of the room to continue the conversation.
does as well, but she’s chewing her lip, thinking.
: “I do. It is how I was trained, and what I have the strongest connection with.”, he nods, and gives a ‘thank you’ to Vehru Sohli as he and the others leave the room.
: “Ardith suffers from the most severe case of Sun-sickness. I…do what I can to ease their pain, but even I cannot heal the damage.” he says with a semi-defeated sigh, “as much as I wish I could.”
ꙮ There’s another room, outwith the Infirmary – it’s not far. There’s couches there, and a hovoli in a little alcove for coffee.
: “They’re dying,” she says carefully. “You both know it.” It sounds a bit like a question. It isn’t one, really.
glances over at her from the corner of his eyes, still misty from what they witnessed together - sharp, slightly, but not unkind.
: “Aye, that they are, as much as it pains me to admit. It is why I do what I can, for they are a very dear friend, and they mean much to me.” he shakes his head, and takes a breath to re-center himself. “But, now you have watched me work, on more than one occasion, and I believe you have questions, yes?”
ꙮ Vehru Sohli follows you into the room, and something about their demeanor gives the impression of a stone statue, animated for the express purpose of operating the hovoli without hearing a word that’s not addressed to them specifically. They focus, intently, on the burning gnosis that heats the sand-tray, on boiling the water, pouring it into the ibrik, holding the ibrik buried precisely correctly in the sand. In a few moments, there’s a delicate silver cup of coffee in front of each of you, and a small pile of sugar cubes on a little silver plate.
he gives an appreciative headnod to Vehru Sohli, and takes a sugar cube, pops it into his mouth, and takes a sip from his cup, before letting out a soft sigh.
thanks Vehru Sohli quietly, though does not touch the coffee quite yet. “I have questions, yes, but first I—wanted to say that I’m sorry, and that it’s a hard thing you’re doing, and it matters very much.” She traces the rim of the cup. “Does the Sun-sickness spread, once contracted? I am guessing, from what you said, that your healing usually works. Aurelius said you have the greatest skill at healing he’s ever seen.”
accepts the gift of coffee gratefully, following Dyu’s lead, the sweet bitterness matching his mood.
also takes a sip of the coffee, once she sees how the sugarcube trick is supposed to work.
: “The care is very much appreciated. It is my duty in the Work as a healer, so I do what I can.”, he takes another sip of his coffee. “The sickness is not contagious, no. It is the result of long-term exposure to the Sun’s light. Over time, healing magicks have diminishing effects on it’s symptoms”
: “Ah, I meant within a given individual’s body.”
he takes a moment to find the words. “It…is akin to a cancer; when it becomes bad enough, it can grow and spread rapidly”
nods, noticing the comparison, how it resounds across worlds. “What do you know of how it works?”
: “To be frank, we know precious little, despite years upon years of study, aside from that it seems an inevitable result of the Sun’s light. Much of what the Kin -do- for the humans is built around managing the symptoms of Sun-sickness, and keeping them comfortable as long as possible.”
: “There is an … illness that happens on my world, at—towards—when.” She closes her eyes and takes a breath. “Too much flourishing gnosis will create a kind of cancer in a person sometimes. I believe that’s part of what Archie was referencing. It can be treated by a tripartite weave of burning, pellucid, and flourishing gnosis. I had asked about the radiant nature of your healing because I wondered if, mixed with tenebrous and … something else … it might serve to be more effective.” She shrugs a little, and glances at Archie for his opinion. “Though, I think understanding how you heal should be the first step. I still—I know things were okay in the end, but Archie and I working together couldn’t do what you did.”
rubs his chin as he listens, you can see concern in his eyes. “I see.” He pauses, looking over them both, before his eyes rest on Salme. “I would be more than happy to teach you what I can. If it can be of aid to others, even beyond my reach, I am happy to help.”
nods. “My first thought was that Sun-sickness may be a result of excessive prolonged exposure to powerful radiant gnosis, which is why I was surprised to learn that you employ radiant gnosis in its treatment. The fact that these treatments are effective would seem to disprove that theory. If there’s anything we can do to even approximate the power of your work, we would learn it. And perhaps, in so doing, we will learn something valuable to our worlds or to yours. That is my sincere hope.”
he nods. “First off, how versed are either of you in working with Radiant gnosis?”
frowns, and then makes a wobbly motion with her hand. “I’m unused to using pure radiant for much of anything. I’ve spun it into thread. I like using a mix of pellucid and radiant spun silk for my loom warp?”
nods. “I’m similarly unpracticed, I’m afraid, though I’ve been told I make a quick learner.”
: “It’s more than just ‘light’. The foundation of Radiant gnosis is rooted in support, care, especially for others, community, if that makes sense?”
nods.
pulls a slight face at the term ‘community,’ but can understand support and care for others.
: “Those are all tennants we hold, both within and without. Everyone has a well of Radiance within them…”, he looks at Salme in particular, “…even when they don’t think they do.”
nods as well, thinking both of Emberlight and of the people of Samudra. “Support, care, and community. I can call them to mind. I may be most practiced with pellucid gnosis, but these aspects of life are ones I hold dear and have been fortunate to experience in abundance.”
: “Reservations about ‘communities’ aside,” she says, with a bit of a laugh at herself, “I can as well. I … am not a healer, but part of my role was serving all of Almachadta.”
ꙮ Community… or Clan. And your mind reaches, without your willing it to, for an older term. Reaches, but its grasp exceeds its reach. Reaches, but does not find.
he leans forward, resting on his arms. “‘Community’ doesn’t necessarily -have- mean a large group of people. It can be a close-knit circle of friends and loved ones.” He looks to Salme, and smiles softly. “From what I saw that first day, you have more Radiance in you than you think. Maybe than you’ll let yourself see. I saw it instantly, how badly you wanted to heal the one you love.”
: “The incantation I use is unique to me. They are the words that came to me from my own well of Radiant gnosis.”, he motions for them to come closer. “Let me help you reach into your own wells, to find your own words.”
swallows and folds her suddenly shaky hands together. She moves closer.
approaches, brushing her shoulder as he shuffles in.
gives Archie a quick, grateful look.
holds out his hands, offering one to each of you. “Take my hand, and close your eyes. Listen to my voice, and focus on it’s sound.”
ꙮ Light slowly rises, limning Dyu’s form.
- You hear — and your Star hears — a song, echoing from the stillness: Kevalam Bhakti
reaches out and takes one of Dyu’s hands.
Takes the other, resting the other on Salme’s knee, listening together.
reaches out and lays her other hand over Archie’s paw.
ꙮ Something shared, between the three of you, then; something to which none of you could put a name.
as his notes trail off, he speaks, softly, warmly. “Let yourself drift, deep within yourself…down…down…deeper still, to the wells of gnosis within you. See the colors of the gnosis within them…there, find the well of Radiance. Call to it. Reach out for it. Let it answer your voice, let it come to you, as you have come to it. Feel the warmth of it enveloping you, as you would be a bulwark to those you hold dear. For those you love, and those you have yet to love still.”
reaches out, almost unthinkingly, out of a desire to share. It is a request that asks for nothing in return. It is an invitation into the house that is herself, to see, to know, to feel.
- Salme used their techné Methexis (Salme has recreated the Ancient technique by which they can link their mind and experiences with that of another person and can do so effortlessly with a willing participant.)
ꙮ Salme offers; is the offer accepted?
stirs, ever so slightly, and accepts.
without moving, you know the offer is accepted.
begins, first, with Ardith—someone she just met. Someone who is dying. She thinks of the roads between the villages on Almachadta, long and laborious, some of them, short jaunts some of the others. How many people she spoke with who were dying, or how many had died. She thinks of learning their stories, building poetry thread by thread. The thinks of memory, the weight of it, the joy of it—because so many joyous things are weighty. She thinks of Annarr, who she will never know, who she is so grateful for because he paved their path forward. She thinks of thousands of people, most of them nameless, who have come before her, bearing a burden both sacred and horrible. She thinks of her gratitude towards them, she thinks of herself among them, she thinks of how much she would give, to serve, to carry these things forward. ⁂
then turns to her Clan, the question she keeps asking, ‘what do you want,’ and how dearly she wants them to know, how much she wants to help them on the journey, even if it is away from her. And she finds, surprised, shocked, that there is a core of trust there that wasn’t before—that they will always look back. That they will find her. There is Archie resting his paw on her shoulder when she almost fell apart yesterday, Luĉja’s quiet, certain wisdom, Wolf’s steadiness echoing back through the ages, and of course, of course, tangled and selfish but also radiant, Aurelius and Awoken walking next to her through the stars. She loves them all, with all her heart, and she wants the entire world to love them too. 🙧
ꙮ How could the world do aught but love them?
: “They are your loved ones, your heart. You mean as much to them, as they do you. -They- are your community, they are the source of your Radiance.*
ꙮ Light gently shimmers around Salme.
: “Can you see it? Can you -feel- it?”
nods. She can. She does. And if they are the source of her Radiance, then her Radiance is infinite.
closes his eyes, drawn in by the experience, projecting outwards, cautiously at first, then fearlessly. Memories of Irós training with Aunt Silver-Throat, fighting to preserve his tune with his eyes and lungs full of the sting of saltwater. Memories of Whisker-Clan in Ripple, feeling as though his entire island was his kin. Memories of late, sleepless nights at the Academy, of studying and researching and debating with anyone with an ear to listen, of meeting Synthesis and Solei and knowing them to be kindred spirits. Memories of a purple scarf and its owner, of sleepy smiles and stolen bites of food, of early mornings with tangled bedsheets and late nights of gently covering a Naïad with a soft, warm blanket when he nodded off at his desk. Memories of the Wolf who could hear the songs of all the worlds and taught him to sing their tune. Memories of the Clockwork Knight who held triumphant a massive spoon, so fiercely and so high that it took Archie up with it. Memories of the Prince who gave him the courage to try new things, secure in the knowledge that he, too, is a hero. Memories of the Hunter who gave him understanding, compassion, an unavoidable Truth and the courage to live in spite of it and, more recently, a parasol. Memories of the Mask-Bearer beside him, who together with the Wolf taught him that his love is as deep as it is inviolate.
ꙮ Light also, gently, shimmers around Archie.
: “They are your loved ones, your heart. You mean as much to them as they do you. -They- are your kindreds, they are the source of your Radiance.”
: “Can you see it? Can you -feel- it?”
gives Archie’s paw a tiny little squeeze of encouragement.
nods, feeling the radiant gnosis around him and the tears silently streaming down his cheeks.
: “The words that sing within your heart, from the depths of your well…speak them, that they be known as you are known. That they be heard, as you are heard. That they be -loved- as you are loved.”
ꙮ And there are words, limned with gold. They may be obscured to you and come in time, or they may be clear, bright shining as the Sun– the Library’s Sun, the Sun that Loves. But the words are there in your heart; they wait to be spoken.
takes and breath, and then, with certainty, speaks. “Deny the shears; deny the scale— / your thread’s not spun, your roots still grow / I weave and braid your life anew— / root deep, bind fast; you’ve far to go.”
ꙮ Lines of light, like vines, or loom-threads, or continuous brushstrokes, or like the path traced through the air by the tip of a ceremonial sword, laden with gnosis – they radiate out from Salme’s body, haphazardly in every direction at first, aethertrails converging then on Dyu and on Archie, filling them with light. Dyu, it was like this, when you found the words; the methexis holds solid, and all three of you have the sudden memory of Yazhn Ravhi, beaming with pride– a certainty, utterly lacking in doubt that Dyu would find his light– but still pride, nevertheless.
ꙮ The light faes, and the methexis fades with it – unless, of course, you had anything more to share, in its flickering embers.
takes a slow, stable breath, and then grins at both Dyu and Archie, and they both get a memory—her, cross-legged on soft leaves, in some forest, with light, not quite like this light, but something fainter, and kind—Archie will know it as the Centrelight of Almachadta—and a metahuman man with curly salt-and-pepper hair and very expressive ears and eyebrows, beaming at Salme as she’s beaten him again at a poetry competition.
opens his eyes, and smiles warmly at them both, their shared memories floating in his mind. “No matter what may come, know that you are loved, ever, and always.”
ꙮ Indeed, you are.