ꙮ Somewhere in the Citadel of Valaïs, sometime after a short note was sent to Clan Emberlight. Perhaps a balcony, but not the main balcony that you can get to straight from the barracks? Anyways, I’m getting ahead of myself. What did Salme do, when she received that note?
No song playing
Up next: 0 songs
Scene Archives
← Active ScenesHis Greatest Failure
#saint
#tana'loof
wasn’t particularly surprised—she’d figured it was inevitable, really. She was more surprised that it happened so soon. She had assumed M. Nought Nemo Nicodemus had allowed himself to get captured for a greater purpose than causing Casimir acute distress upon suddenly finding his (im)mortal(?) enemy un-captured. She’d read the note, figured the Guard-Captain likely needed some time, had tried to give it, and then had gone looking.
ꙮ Salme has a knack for figuring out where people have gotten off to that some might, but which I shall not, describe as ‘uncanny’; she looks in a few places, and then, because she knows it’s got a good view, one particular balcony she’s visited before, and that’s where she finds Casimir - sitting on the stone of the balcony with his back to the wall, knees drawn up, arms around them. He’s out of uniform - simple white linens. He looks like a person who hasn’t slept in days, even though you know that can’t possibly be the case.
is, herself, in her simple linen shirt and well-worn trousers from Almachadta. She enjoyed the drama of the ballgown, but there’s something reassuring about well-worn leather boots. She considers for a moment, and then goes and sits down next to him, mirroring his position. “Hi,” she says.
looks over towards her. His hair is remarkably unkempt; he looks, in general, broadly vulnerable. He doesn’t flinch away from her, or even give in to the temptation to immediately apologise to her; he sent the note, after all, as soon as it all happened. He just sighs, softly, and looks back out over the expanse of lith stretching past the city walls. “The whole damn thing was a farce, wasn’t it?”
: “Yeah,” she says softly. “He didn’t have to agree to the stakes; he didn’t have to appear at all. I figured … hm. I figured he wanted to communicate something. I’m still not sure what.”
: “He seemed… I don’t know. He seemed almost cheerful when I secured him in the cell. Like he’d been looking forward to talking to the lot of you. I’m assuming that’s what he was there to do, along with– torment me and destroy my position in the eyes of the High Houses, which I’m sure he’s very pleased with himself about. But then he said, ‘they’ve interrogated me as much as they’re going to interrogate me, there’s things I want them to see before the next time I speak to any of them and they’re not going to see any of them in this cell.’, like… something changed between then and when I stepped back in after my watch. And. I don’t know.”
: “Hmm,” she says. “I wonder which of us changed things for him. I’ll have to ask the others, though I suspect we’ll see what he wants us to see in time.” She’s quiet for a moment, and then says, “I’m not particularly concerned about us. I’m more worried about how you’re doing, Casimir.”
: “Yes, well, I’m sorry for wasting your time. It’s– it’s bad enough I walked in to that party wearing House colours, or as good as. Moon alone carries the knowledge of what that’s going to do to them.” He presses his face into his hands. “And now I’m– falling apart in front of a stranger. Who. Did, deliberately, come and find me.” He gives her a wan, but heartfelt, smile, and honesty: “Not particularly well, all things considered, I’m afraid.”
: “You didn’t waste my time. I got to commission and wear a ridiculously fancy gown at a ridiculously fancy party. I never could’ve dreamed of such a thing before this all started.” She gestures with a hand, vaguely, at ‘this all.’ “And one of my friends—someone I sort of forcefully made friends with, if I’m honest—once said something about my compulsive need to be everyone’s best friend, or something like that.” She tilts her head so it’s resting against her knees, and she’s looking at him in some sort of odd sideways contortion. “I don’t have to be a stranger, you know. I figured you’re not someone with a lot of friends to rely on. Thought I could offer to be one.”
laughs, again, and the smile’s a little brighter. “That gown was glorious. I think they’ll be talking about it tomorrow even with everything that happened.” He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the cold stone, is quiet for a few minutes, then says: “I’m afraid I’m woefully inexperienced in how to be anything other than ‘the up-and-coming Guard-Captain’ or ‘the Guard-Captain’, but I’d be willing to try being a friend.”
grins a bit at him, at the compliment about the gown. “I was curious about that. About why you wanted this role. It seems like a heavy burden, and a lonely one.” She shifts her head, resting her chin on her knee and looking forward. “I know a little bit about that. About choosing heavy and lonely burdens. Though I’m afraid I’ll be no help at all at navigating the politics of the High Houses.”
looks distant. “There was… there was a fight in the Downbelow. I was… what, spaul name-days old? Something around there. There was… sometimes, in the Downbelow, someone will pay for good, warm meals for children, and there was a meat-pie, and people were fighting over it. And. I was trying to make them stop, and yelled, and nobody listened to me. But then she showed up. Mira– Neave Loam Mira. The Guard-Captain before me. And she was… magnificent. Shining. And she yelled, and stopped them from fighting, and made sure everyone got a piece of the meat-pie fairly. And then… pulled me aside, told me that she’d noticed me trying to stop the fight before it turned into a Rite. That Rites were for humans to fight against Undead, not amongst each other, and that I’d done the right thing.”
: “I think I would have followed her into the dark of the lith on the spot, when she said that.”
nods, and leans her own head back against the cool stone. “And then she died.”
: “…that happens to everyone. But I. I. She was taken during an Apparition.” He exhales, shakily. “Nicodemus said– he said that. He said that she was waiting for me. He said that she missed me terribly. And I KNOW. I know I warned you all of his words and what he does with them!” He curls in on himself.
hesitantly, carefully, reaches out and wraps an arm around his shoulders. She will pull away if there is any indication that her touch is unwanted, or harmful, or—any indication. But. She has to try. “How are you on uncomfortable revelations for today? I can’t—tell you if he was lying or not. But I have some information that might help you sort your own thoughts.”
just starts laughing, very fervently but very quietly, shoulders shaking with it. He doesn’t seem to mind the proximity. “–Moon’s crack, what’s yan more, it couldn’t hurt.”
: “We’ve met at least one person who is Undead. That’s how I heard about Jaromir. She was on the Beast—the plane of burning gnosis. She didn’t remember much about Valaïs; when you cross planes, you tend to lose all but your most precious memories. But—she is a person, just like you or me. She can talk, and she can feel, and she is very kind. Her name is Duškomira. We write to each other sometimes.” She chews her lip while she composes her next thoughts. “She remembers Nicodemus, I think. Faintly. Or she remembers someone who sounds very much like Nicodemus. I am not going to claim he’s a wholly trustworthy entity based on Duškomira’s half-remembered impressions, but—I think there is something more complicated happening with the Undead than what appears to be the case. That’s why I was so aggressive, at first, trying to figure out the threat the Undead posed to the rest of you. I was trying to square what you were telling me with what I had already learned.” ⁂
: “I don’t think you’ve lied to us at all. I don’t think Duškomira lied to us. I think the truth is complicated and very hard to see from this vantage point.” She takes a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to join us in figuring it out.” 🙧
sits, and just– listens, and frowns, and does not interrupt, and listens. And the first time he opens his mouth to respond, nothing happens, and then he gives it another go. “I– yes. I need to understand. I need to–“ –he exhales in frustration. “If I can– answer anything, to the best of my own knowledge, that would help you understand what you know better. I’d like to. I… why can’t they. Why can’t we understand them? Why can we understand him? Why–“ –his head clonks back against the cold stone, gently. “Yes. Yes I very much would.”
squeezes his shoulders. “May I ask what it is about him that so calls to you? You know, you’re the first person who’s encountered people from a bunch of different planes and, rather than being flummoxed by that, immediately crafted it into a plan to entrap your enemy rather than particularly interrogating the interplanar anomalies. That’s not a criticism, really. I admire the ambition and the sense of duty, but. It seems like there’s more than that.” She pulls out a cluster of gleaming pearls from her satchel. “Is it the singing? Or is it something else?”
snorts, once, and then it’s off to the races, and he’s laughing helplessly, curled up in on himself, again. “I don’t…” And then he shakes his head, when he gets control of himself. “No, it’s. Oh, Moon light my way. His voice reminds me of– someone who used to read stories in the Downbelow. Hell’s depth, it might have even–“ -he laughs, again- “–that might have even BEEN him, for all I know. And he– I wanted. I wanted to catch him. I wanted to catch him and ask why he took Mira. I wanted to catch him and ask him a thousand questions about the Undead, about why we fight, why nothing here makes any sense, because I think he knows.” Laughs, again. “And then I did catch him, and I– he said I should ask you what ‘like a swift that finally caught its own tail’ meant but I think I can infer the drift. I think I just wanted to catch him, Salme.” His eyes are wide with– something. Horror, or– bafflement, or something.
: “I had intended to talk to you before he escaped, you know. About what it felt like, being a swift that had finally caught its own tail. I wasn’t sure how you’d be feeling.” She leans against him and fiddles with the pearls in her hands a bit more. “I think he knows too. I think he’s fond of you as well, whatever that fondness might buy you. He did say you were the only guard who mattered.” She’s quiet for another beat. “His eyes were very old, you know. I’m not sure quite how old. But I think, for someone to catch his interest like that with eyes that old, you must be very interesting to him indeed.”
has, at some point, begun blushing, absolutely furiously, and he tries to bury his head in his hands to stop it because he knows that it is occurring, and doing that does not help whatsoever, and he makes a very quietly strangled noise. “He… asked me what I -wanted-. I told him that I knew he wasn’t going to give me any of the information I wanted out of him, and he–“ –somehow he blushes more– “–he did something insane with his voice, and he asked me what I wanted. A- and that’s when he just. Shook off the restraints like they weren’t bothering him at all and never had been, and– ugh.”
has turned to look at him again, and she sees, almost physically sees, the gap in the story, but she lets the gap stay there—it’s Casimir’s to tell or not to tell. “When you say something insane with his voice, did it sound like … hm. What do you want?”
jumps like he got physically shocked, but he’s got good control over himself. “Gah! Yes. What the hell is that? And then it was like– he was reading me, just from– looking at me. And listening to something only he could hear. And.” He slumps back against the stone wall, and, very quietly, says, “(And then he walked over and– kissed me. And. Told me that Mira was at the Cenotaph and that she missed me. And. THEN he was gone.)”
does not change her expression, but does note that the gap in the story has been very generously filled in. She frowns a little, thinking. “Well. Do you want to address the metaphysical issue first or the emotional one? Because that sounds very emotionally overwhelming.”
makes a sequence of distinct, fascinatingly-disgusted noises. “The first thing I felt when I realised he was slipping out of his chains was relief. I don’t– I don’t know what I would do– if I threw him into the Pathos? Some Guard-Captain I am. Anyways, I’m not going to get an answer on what to. Do with. That. So.” He takes a very deliberate breath of cold night air. “There’s a metaphysical issue? Clearly you understand what’s happening, here.”
: “I think,” she says, very firmly, “that you are an excellent Guard-Captain. And that you care about figuring out the truth—the actual truth, the kind of truth that might make things here exponentially better—I think that makes you probably one of the best Guard-Captains Valaïs has ever had.” She shrugs. “Anyway, for the metaphysical stuff—how aware were you of the Rite at the ball as it was happening?”
: “I still want to catch him. That’s got to count for something, right?” He tilts his head toward her, and he’s almost grinning. “Anyways, I was watching it- you all were magnificent? I was just locked outside of it waiting and observing as much as I could. Why?”
: “It was really—Aury and Awa were both—Casimir, you don’t understand what it’s like to watch them—oh. Ugh. See, I’m getting distracted. There was a Rite-tone I used, early on. One of the first things I did, actually. It’s called [Libra] and it … gives the truth about someone who it’s cast upon. A version of the truth—there’s certainly some degree of perspective to it, though there always is. Did you notice that tone, and were you able to hear the truth it called up? It’s okay if you didn’t—I’m not sure who can and who cannot, really.”
gestures vaguely with a hand. “No, I was– I was watching them, I have eyes.” He nods, attempting to regain his serious demeanour, if only for the sake of a joke, but then leans forward, and listens. “I saw you invoking a tone but it was like my awareness skipped right over it, I meant to ask you about it, before…” He gestures vaguely, again. “It’s not one that I recognise, clearly.”
nods. “I thought that might be the case. It’s … there are tellurian Rite-tones that are principally physical, yes? And there are sidereal Rite-tones that are gnosis-inflected. And then there are a handful of Alethic Rite-tones that are something else entirely. I—hm. Some brief context, I guess: Dyu joined us more recently, but the six of us came together because we were kidnapped by … a man who claims he built the planes. We were freed by a man who claimed he broke them, and that’s when [Libra] was first used on one of us. I don’t think any of us had any sense of these Alethic Rite-tones before that. At any rate … I can tell you what we were told? The information always comes in that … strange voice, the thing I just did, or that Nicodemus did.” ⁂
recites, “The Lord of the Cenotaph (or the prioprietor of the Speakeasy, if we’re feeling sassy, and he always is.) He has been known, from time to time, as the Shadow, as well as by other names. He prefers, at this moment, to go by “Nought Nemo Nicodemus”, and I intend to respect this preference. As is his tradition, the name he once held evaporated in light, and the name he chose marks him born and risen on no day at all, with no sign to call his own.” 🙧
softly, wonderingly, replies, “Moon’s crack, he’s insufferable.”
laughs. “And yet you’re into it.”
buries his face in his hands, but he’s laughing. And thinking. “As is his tradition…? Is that an Undead thing, then? Taking new names?”
hesitates.
: “I suspect it might be. I had heard the phrasing before, in a different context, and Duškomira implied as much when I asked her.”
: “There’s more to it, but it isn’t mine to tell.”
nods, thoughtfully. “That makes sense. I, hmm.” His head clonks back against the stone, again, lightly. “And so that… voice, is the voice that you hear when you use that Rite-tone. And you can speak in it, and… so can he, for some reason.”
: “Yeah. It’s something that can be learned. I’m not sure how much the actual voice means. I suppose what I was getting at is … I wonder, if when Nicodemus asked you that question, he received a similar kind of answer.” She gives a little huff of laughter. “And, I suppose, arrogantly, I wonder … I’ve been running around asking people what they want for some time. We’ve found … certain echoes or patterns in … reality, I suppose. I wonder if he’s echoing me, or if I’ve been echoing him.”
: “Well, I mean, it’s a normal-enough question to ask, isn’t it? Normally yan doesn’t feel like yan’s just arrived at a High House function in only yan’s smallclothes when yan is asked it, but.” A soft laugh. “We weren’t in a Rite, so it can’t have been a Rite-tone, anyways, I would have noticed.”
: “Well, yeah, that’s also the other consideration. It is a normal-enough question. And … yeah. It wasn’t a Rite-tone, but I’ve wondered before if I might learn to cast Libra outside of the Rite. And I think it’s probably not unreasonable to say that whoever Nicodemus is, he’s probably much more powerful than you or I. Or maybe he just has some very odd techné.”
ꙮ That, of all things, makes Casimir blush again, which he attempts to pretend did not occur.
: “Hm. A techné that allows for the reading of minds hardly seems fair.”
: “What gives you the impression that we’re dealing with someone who plays fair?”
: “Sometimes, it comforts me to state the obvious.”
grins at him, and fiddles with the pearl cluster. “Fair enough. Hm. You said you wanted to hear singing. Would you like to hear some now?”
blinks. And then looks up at the spires, and– he makes a face at them. “Yes, I rather think I would.”
- You hear — and your Star hears — a song, echoing from the stillness: Every Void Has A Jaguar
peers at the pearl-cluster curiously, looking -around- frantically for a moment or two before just- listening, eyes mostly-closed, jaw hanging open slightly. Some owlish blinking, as the song fades. “…well. That was. My goodness. How– what?” The expression fades into an almost goofy grin. “That was -brilliant-. What?”
: “What what?”
: “What… was that, how was that possible, how did it… well. I suppose it makes sense that there was no pull to it, that’s clearly an Undead thing. But. Thank you, that- thank you. For sharing that.”
grins at him. “You’re welcome. This was … there was … on Samudra, the pellucid plane, where everything is water as far as the eye can see, there are people who are made of these clusters of pearls. And one of them could hear the music that underscores the universe. They gave this to us. Their name was Synthesis.” She looks at the cluster of pearls. “You know. I could play the song we first heard him sing when we arrived—it’s part of this. I wonder if you’d feel the pull if I did that?” She looks at him. “You also have a song too, though there are no lyrics.”
glances at the cluster of pearls in Salme’s hands, and– understands something she’s saying without saying, and nods, quietly. And then, looks thoughtful. “I do? How do you know it’s mine?” And then, a little vainly: “Is it nice?” And then, thoughtfully, again. “I wonder if– I wonder if that’s what he was listening to, somehow, when… he escaped. I don’t. Know how that would work, but add that to the list, I guess?”
: “Well, I’m not sure. Why don’t you judge for yourself?” She does something with the pearls, and another song starts to play.
- You hear — and your Star hears — a song, echoing from the stillness: Duty’s Shackles
is truly not sure what he was expecting, but it cannot have been that. His eyes look bright, and– he laughs, softly.
: “Yeah. It’s honestly really fun to listen to.” She considers a moment, and says, “I don’t think these songs are … destiny or anything. I don’t know how fundamental they are to who we are. But it’s nice to be able to hear them, I think. As for how I know … there’s. A document that. Makes these connections for us whenever we hear the songs.” She flicks her hand, and the Traveler’s Guide appears in it.
: “Not sure how much you’ll appreciate the commentary, but.”
briefly glances it over - eyebrows going up into his hair at the fact of its existence, at all - and then flushes and hands it back over to her. “–considering the circumstances, I can’t– I can’t even say as– ah, hell.” And he just laughs, and leans back against the stone, and breathes much, much easier than he did when Salme first got here.
: “It’s good, isn’t it? To laugh about this shit?” She nudges his shoulder. “You have intense feelings for someone who should be an enemy. I fell in love with both my partners after knowing them for less than a week when none of us had memories. These things are absurd and strange and … worth kind of embracing, I think. Especially when everything else is so heavy.”
nods, and looks up at the moon. “It’s just… it’s all so strange. I feel like I want to track the yesterday when you all got here, so that I don’t lose it. I’ve never felt that way before. But you’re right, it does help to laugh at how strange it all is.”
: “What do you mean you’ve never felt that way before?”
: “I feel… I don’t know. It’s very strange to me to think of yan specific yesterday that matters. Or yan tomorrow that matters. But that’s not how you tan’neave think at all, is it?”
shakes her head. “No. We … hm. We count the days and the years. We think of the past and the future. Some of us are … better at thinking of the future than others. I care very much about the past. It’s always been—my role on Almachadta is telling stories and preserving memory. Three of the planes—Almachadta, Samudra, The Beast—they die these cyclical deaths. On Almachadta, the only thing that persists between those deaths is the Sword-Saint’s Mask that I carry. That’s the burden I took up. But the planes are little under methir hundred thousand years old, and that’s a lot of memory, so things get lost. I’ve been working to keep as many memories of our journeys and experiences as I can. The Mask can’t, so … I’m looking for other ways.” She blinks. “I’m not sure that answers your question.”
: “Oh. That’s– when you said, earlier, that you knew something about having taken on heavy burdens, that’s what… I understand. And I… no, that does…” He looks up at the Spires, again, his voice low. “I think, sometimes, the High Houses – some of them, at least – would rather nobody even thought of yesterday or tomorrow at all. The logbooks we keep in the barracks are strange, but it’s– we’ve always cared about who left us, and when. I don’t know why. But I don’t think I’d want to stop.”
: “That’s something … in the story of that guardsman, Jaromir … that’s something he thought once too. That people only seemed to live in the here and now, on Valaïs. But … I mean. The past matters. The future matters even more. Or, it does to me.” She stretches her legs out in front of her, and reaches for her toes as she asks, “What do the High Houses actually do, aside from throwing extremely decadent parties?”
keeps staring up at the spires, or maybe the Pathos, or maybe the moon. “Anything that comes out of the Pathos goes through them. They… they say they built Valaïs. Built the spires. Some of them, at least, work with the guards or try to keep Valaïs safe and running. Some of them help manage the Downbelow, make sure Merchants have tents they’re comfortable with, make sure people can… live and exist, down there.” A pause, and then very softly: “I think with the obols they’ve got, they could do a better job of that part.”
: “Having been both up there and Downbelow, I think that’s a fair read.” She frowns. “If they say they built Valaïs, do they mean it in the sense that … they, themselves? Or their ancestors? I guess … you called yourself the only man to have ascended the spires. Are they not men?”
: “Not the only man to have ascended the spires, I’m sorry. But I’m– the only yan, right now, who climbs all the way to the Pathos. That’s the Guard-Captain’s job. The job it was yesterday, the job it’ll be tomorrow. You know?”
nods. “Yeah. That makes sense. But … the question I have remains. Do the members of the High Houses not live and die in the same way as everyone else here?”
blinks. And then nods. “They’re born and live and die the same way we all do. Mira was– well, she was taken long before she even started to slow down. But she was actually born to House Shagreen, and joined the Guard because she felt it was important.”
nods. “Thanks. I appreciate the clarification.” She looks at him for a moment, and then says, “You should tell me more about her sometime, if you’d like. But I think you probably need rest more than reminiscence. Do you think you could? Rest, that is?”
: “I think… I think I could, now, yes.” He smiles. “Thank you. And– tomorrow is a new night, and we’ll see what it brings, I suppose.” And then he yawns just the hugest yawn in all the planes, and immediately laughs. “Yes, I suppose I could rest.”
considers him for one moment, and then ruffles his hair. “Take care of yourself, Guard-Captain. We have mysteries to unravel.”