Scene Archives

has been spending his time with the apostates productively–albeit perhaps not so dramatically as some of his comrades. Since the encounter with the Elementals, he’s resolved one long-simmering feud, settled a handful of minor disputes, led an impromptu jam session, and helped haul several loads of supplies to various storerooms. As the Awoken might put it…’doing yeresh stuff’. Currently, he’s sitting with a tiny cup of coffee in one hand, listening to two older women bicker about nothing in particular–not seemingly participating except to serve as a convenient audience, and to make appropriate noises at regular intervals, like ‘Mmm’ or ‘I see’. Working hard, clearly.

lurks for a few moments, waiting to see if whatever ‘argument’ Wolf is adjudicating will resolve itself. When it doesn’t seem likely to do so on her preferred timeline (which, being honest, is ‘almost immediately’) she takes a breath, draws up a well of very convincing false tears, and storms into the room in a flurry of diaphanous silks and manufactured upset. “Wolf, Wolf, you’ll never believe what awful thing Luĉja said to me …!”

looks up, startled. Then the words register and his brow immediately furrows, eyes narrowing to slits–before his expression smooths out so quickly that one might miss it entirely, if one wasn’t looking directly at him. “Ah, Salme, not again…” He stands, setting his cup down with an expression of deep regret. “Ladies, forgive me, it seems that duty calls.” He smiles warmly as one of the ladies pats his hand, the other leaning in to say something sotto-voce and somewhat conspiratorial sounding–from the tone, anyway. Wolf chuckles, pats the hand with his own, and winks at the other. “My lady! You scandalize me. Really, I do beg your pardon. I will have to return for some more of this delightful coffee.” A few more pleasantries and he extricates himself, wrapping an arm around Salme’s waist and leading her away, leaning in to say: “Someone’s feeling playful, I see…” His tone is more amused than edged.

leans into Wolf and modulates her open sobs into the soft, shaking shoulders of someone receiving comfort but still barely holding back sobs. “I,” she says, shaky-voiced, “I didn’t know how long I’d be standing there if I had to wait for you to resolve the issue on its own.” Her tone, soft enough that only Wolf can make out her words, is tear-torn for anyone who’d overhear. “And,” she sniffs, “this’ll give them something to gossip about.”

: “Well, given that their favorite target until today was each other, perhaps that will be for the best,” Wolf retorts, in a tone of almost cloying reassurance. He snorts, albeit in clear amusement. “Really, Salme, you could have just asked.” His very amused expression suggests he knows that’s quite unlikely.

: “Yeah but that’s not as fun.” She scrubs away a fake tear. “And the stuff I want to talk to you about is—hm. I’d rather people not know there is something I wanted to talk to you about this badly.”

’s gaze sharpens, head tilting fractionally in both curiosity and concern. “I take it you and the others have found something delightfully incendiary.”

: “Well. That’s. Hm. Yeah, there are several things that are—well. I don’t know what I think about much of it.” She leans into him, actually seeking comfort this time though sans emotional distress. “Is there a place you’d like to go to talk?”

: “Mmm…yes.” And he leads her to the closest thing the caverns have to a garden–one of many rooms with racks upon racks of carefully-tended hydroponics. Though it seems like there’s some degree of “actual garden” to the room as well, with stone benches wide enough for two carved into the walls at regular intervals. Wolf leads Salme to one at the far corner of the room, dropping down into the oddly-comfortable stone seat with a soft grunt. “We’ll not be disturbed here, I think.”

nods, and takes a moment to wonder at the hydroponics, at the feel of a garden, inside, in a cave. “This is lovely,” she says quietly, reaching out to touch a leaf on one of the racks. “I’ve … well. I’ll talk about that later, if we have time.” Instead, she pulls out some papers, pressed straight between two boards, and hands them to Wolf. “Awa and I were able to get an image—several images—of Mu’s sun. It was Jae’s idea. It was a good idea.” ⁂

knows what Wolf will see—the sun, unambiguously, something’s corpse. The corpse of what is uncertain—only that is or was something with tattered wings, with a hole straight through the center, unstable but still holding together despite its being utterly shattered. It is not a restful corpse. The images show movement of some kind. And beyond that, it shows the gnoses that make up the corpse-sun’s aura—flourishing, pellucid, burning. So much of those gnoses that it is truly mind-boggling, but only those gnoses.

🙧

stares at that first unambiguous image, his face impassive–his only movement the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, until the silence stretches uncomfortably long. Then, just as Salme might begin to worry, he flips through the other images, business-like, lingering only on the gnosis-analysis. He flips the binder shut and hands it back to Salme. “Well,” he says, voice perfectly calm and level. “That explains a few things.”

raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Does it?”

: “A great injustice,” he says, eyes flickering away to look at nothing in particular. His voice is flat and colorless as stone. “Happened, happening, will happen. Being trapped between life and death would seem to qualify.”

relaxes a bit when Wolf says that. She nods. “I,” she loops her fingers around her wrist, where her irrica bracelet would normally rest. “I almost immediately ran into the library to try to speak with it. I though knowing the nature of what it was might help me get somewhere. But I am trying not to be overly rash, and when I spoke to—I messaged Aurelius and Jorule at the same time about potential safety measures, which was maybe a mistake considering their impressive teamwork when it comes to disapproving of a course of action, but they both suggested I talk to you before I did anything. To see if … a corpse even can communicate.”

inhales slowly, eyes narrowing a little–which is reassuring, a little, given how expressionless he’s been since his first sight of that image. “I do not think…that you are in danger of lasting harm, if you attempt it. I do not know how well you will succeed–I had to draw on my song and my starlight to bear it long enough to get anything at all. I do not know how much it actually communicated with me. It was more the sense I got from its…howls. As I might otherwise draw meaning from a song. Or…a cry.” He rubs his chin with his fingertips, clearly thinking.

nods. “I don’t know either. I’ve … they both said this, that I have a habit of leaping into something that can hurt me without a clear plan, or any particular reason to think I’ll be successful, but so far it’s worked and more than worked I think it mattered. I perhaps didn’t learn anything from the Mother of Monsters that will help us in what we’re trying to do, but I was able to give Her something. Speaking with the Omniclast did not reveal any particularly shocking truths, but I understood him better too. I always feel—that the trying matters. And this thing is hurting, and there might not be an answer as to why, but I can share its pain, if only for a moment.” She blushes. “I don’t know if that sounds silly, but.”

’s face finally unbends a bit, and he smiles gently at Salme. “That is not silly at all, Salme. That is empathy, and it is one of your strongest traits, and greatest gifts.” His expression turns solemn again. “What I would caution against is…to share pain can be a benefit. But only if it is eased, however temporarily, in the sharing. Your gift to the Mother was not simply feeling her pain–it was gifting her a fleeting moment of joy in your togetherness.” His eyes flick down to that image. “I am not sure what you could do to ease that being’s pain. It was immense. It was…frozen, in a way that the Mother and the Omniclast are not. But…” He smiles, wryly. “I will never tell you that you should not try.“

nods. “Do you think it hates? And do you think it hates in the way you hate someone who hurt you? In the way you might hate someone who has something you want? Or do you think it hates in the way, when you are in a state of extreme pain, you hate anything that is not in that state? Is it an animal kind of hatred?” She scrolls to the {Articles of Faith} on her tomestone. “‘The Sun that burns above is is a holy relic of the God’s sacrifice. What it asks of us it asks in love, and what it takes it does not take lightly.’ I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and about what we know, specifically about what you know, about the corpse-sun. Is it asking anything in love? Can it?”

: “It…” Wolf closes his eyes. He is silent for a long moment, eyes flickering behind his eyelids. Then, in an almost sing-song voice: “It rages, but it does not hate. It is incomplete, waiting to be made whole. When the Work is done, there will be peace. When the Work is done, there will be joy.“ Wolf inhales, slowly, a little raggedly, and opens his eyes. “What that means I cannot say. But it does not hate. It does not hate.”

nods, and reaches out to touch the back of Wolf’s hand. “Thank you. I believe you.” She looks at him then. “You said something happened, with Ravhi? Not … ‘ha ha, something happened,’ but something that unsettled you. Do you want to talk about it?”

blinks at Salme, clearly confused–then the lightbulb flickers on. “Eh? Oh! Oh.” And he blushes, just a bit–but there’s also an expression of…wonder. “Salme…I think….I think I knew him. As…as I knew you.“

takes a moment, and then blinks. “Oh. Oh. That would explain … no, not explain, but I could see that. I haven’t gotten a good sense of him—another thing I wanted to ask was your permission to bring this information to him; I have several questions I’d like to ask him and … well, I can explain that in a second but. I have gotten the sense that—or, no, that’s not quite it but I have seen where you two would fit together in such a way that would complement you both. Did you have a vision together, as we did?”

: “Yes. The both of us…in the jungle that I dream of, looking upon the White Tower…” He shakes his head. “It was barely a flash. But we both saw it, Salme. Though I cannot say if it was…past or future. Just not now.“ He takes a moment to compose himself, frowns in thought. “I do not know. This touches deeply on things that he holds as the dearest articles of faith. In some ways, it affirms his faith, in others…” Wolf rubs his face, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Salme. I think this confirms my thought of what the Rite of Renewal is. And to give him this knowledge, if I am right, would be a terrible burden. And yet…”

tilts her head. “If I might explain? I wanted—Qarina is dealing with her feelings from what the Elementals said to her, and her uncertainty if that is something she should tell him. And she’s worried that if she asks Ravhi if he would want to know something terrible, he would say yes, because of who she is to him. And I was thinking … if I asked a similar question, if I asked, ‘Would you want to know a terrible truth, even if it might place a terrible burden upon you,’ he might be able to answer that question coming from me with less concern for my wellbeing. And if he said yes, I’d like to have a truth to tell him that isn’t Qarina’s truth, which is her own to share. This fits the bill.” She looks at the images wryly. “Do you think this confirms that the Rite of Renewal is what destroys our worlds? Or did you have another suspicion?”

: “I think it is what resets the cycle, yes. Consumes, perhaps, that enormous release of gnosis to fuel whatever…that sun really is. Or what traps it.” He grimaces. “I am speculating, deeply. Guessing. But the timing, those readings…whatever the specifics, that Rite is the culmination of a cycle. Of that I am fairly sure. And it…tears at him, Salme. To think that he might become responsible for what happens to our worlds. It may very well place him between two unbearable forces–his duty, and his compassion. And yet…and yet.” He inhales, exhales. “I think that we must give him the opportunity to face this truth. He will not thank us, if we protect him with ignorance.” Wryly: “He will not thank me, certainly.”

: “He is strong. He is proud.” Quietly: “I think we must honor that.”

smiles at him. “I do not think you would love someone who was neither of those things. And I don’t think you would love someone who would turn away from this truth.” She taps the cover where she’s stored the images. “I also think … if you are correct, then the Rite of Renewal also harms the people of Mu. The level of gnosis emitted from the corpse-sun is devastating. It’s.” She stops, makes a soft sound of consideration. “I was updating some of the library folios based on the materials sciences Archie and Luĉja have been doing, and when I went to write a description of irrica I realized … I’ve seen the Sun-sickness up close, when Yazhn Dyu took Archie and I to heal.” She looks at Wolf. “It’s irrica. The painful growths that the humans of Mu get from long-term exposure to the corpse-sun? It’s irrica. And that’s also why I think it’s a weave of radiant and tenebrous gnosis that allows the plants here to grow at all.”

blinks, rocking back in his seat a bit. “It’s irrica?“ He grimaces in second-hand sympathy of what it must feel like to have that grow from your skin. “That would…make sense. Horrible, agonizing sense. And yet, what happens if the Rite isn’t performed?” The grimace grows deeper. “…at the end of the day, that is not our call to make. This…” He sighs. “This is not our world. This is theirs. His, in a way. And whatever choice he makes…let it be an informed one, at least. As best we can.” Wolf rubs his forehead. “What little we know.”

: “If it’s not irrica, it’s a growth that looks exactly like irrica.” She considers for a moment, “as for the performance or non-performance of the Rite, I don’t know. Part of me wants to argue that it isn’t the cause of the destruction of our worlds—that it couldn’t be. Almachadta and the Beast are already in their countdown processes, without anything happening on Mu at all. But also I want that to be true.” She considers Wolf. “Though you’re right. Aurelius said the same thing, actually. I had been … kind of a judgmental turd about certain things here, and he helped right my perspective. It isn’t our world and it isn’t our choice. But if it’s a choice Ravhi must make, it’s one he deserves as much knowledge as he might want to make that choice.” ⁂

: “I’m sorry, brother. That you finally meet someone who makes your heart sing the way it clearly does around him and it’s … in this context.” 🙧

looks…confused. Then laughs, and shakes his head. “Heart-sister, love. What other context would I have met him in? On Almachadta? Where, had it not been for the Architect, my fate was to battle against unholy hunger until it took me, or until our world seared to death?“ Wolf just laughs again, quietly. Then: “Love is a miracle, Salme. And it always exists in the shadow of death. That’s why it matters.”

: “Don’t forget the ‘chewed open’ part,” she says dryly. “That’s also important. And. I know. I’ve thought the same thing about … all of this. Meeting Aury and Awa. Actually getting to know you. Making my own clan. Having any sort of chance at saving Almachadta and the rest, at even being willing to try. Still.” She shakes her head. “I wish you got more time, or perhaps that the shadow of death didn’t loom quite as large.”

smiles, softly. “We do not get to decide, love, the length of our span. The road is a thing of many meetings, and many partings, some bitter and some sweet. All we are given…is what to do with the days that we have, while we have them.” He reaches out, and gently cups her cheek. “And the thing about shadows is, that sometimes, all they do is make the firelight seem that much warmer. And that much more bright.”

smiles back, but there’s something sharp there. “Oh. I think sometimes we might determine more than you think. We’re Angels, after all. And that’s why it’s important to be clear about where our boundaries and values lie. Because what might seem impossible is possible for us.” But she blinks, and the sharpness is gone, and she’s more amused than anything. “But I’ve never been great at patience or acceptance. I’d rather just change the game entirely.”

snorts, and smiles. “Well, I’d argue that you’re still simply doing your best with what you’ve been given, but.” His smile widens, and it’s edged with pride. “I expect no less from one who burns so bright.” Wolf rubs his thumb gently along Salme’s cheekbone, then tucks a stray lock of her hair back. “You’ve given me much to think about, and if you don’t mind, bright Star, I could use the space to think. And before you fret–“ he holds up a forestalling finger– “I am fine. It’s just a lot to wrap my head around.”

nods again and leans into his touch for a moment before straightening. “Ah. There’s more in the library and on the linkpearl, actually, if you haven’t been keeping up and do want to melt you brain fully. But take your time to work through what you need to work through in this garden.” She stretches, briefly, before heading toward the exit.

: “Salme.” Wolf’s voice is clear and sharp, tugging her to a stop as neatly as a hand might. “When you go to see about the sun…let me come with you. Even in memory, with your abilities and mine joined, we could hear the Omniclast more clearly. And I could share my familiarity with it–the strength that lets me bear it.”

looks away a bit, blushing faintly along his cheekbones. “And…I do not love it, per se, but…I love one who loves it. That care was what let me hear what I heard, before. If I can help, if I can…”

looks back at Wolf, and considers him for a long, long moment, and then says, “I … I’ve done these things on my own before, not because I knew I couldn’t ask for aid, but because I—felt self-conscious being the version of myself that I am that allows me to do it in front of someone else.” She considers Wolf for another long moment. “One approach I was considering was—most Mask-bearers did not die while wearing the Mask. Some did. I was thinking of calling to mind that state, as a point of commonality. If we were joined, is that something you would bear?” And her eyes, in this moment, are distant and strangely vast, remembering deaths that were not hers but that she has lived.

tilts his chin up, and his eyes are flecked with gold in the soft cavern-light. “I have wagered the coin of my own life before. I do not welcome the end, but I neither do I fear it. And…my heart beats, and beats, and beats.” He smiles, very faintly. “I can bear it, sister, if the cause is right.”

smiles, because she did not expect the answer to be any different. “Then let me think about it? I either won’t do it at all, as the thought of an audience is too mortifying and I have no business attempting to commune with a horrifically pained corpse-sun, or I’ll do it with you beside me. Does that sound fair?”

: “Fair.” He smiles a bit more. “Just remember, Salme. I’ve seen you in many lights now. I’ve seen you as child, Saint, sister, and Fire. There is no face you can show me that will frighten me, no shadow in your heart that can shame you. I already know who you are.”

’s smile tilts into playful and a little amused. “Not even the face I show to my Awoken Prince in the tenebrous dark?” She says, her voice low and sultry and layered with innuendo.

bares his teeth in a fangy smile, and for just a moment the shadows around his eyes seem to deepen. “I have my own shadows, sister. Am I to be scared by your sensuality?”

laughs, brightly. “Scared, no. Slightly alarmed in a brotherly way? Perhaps. But you surprise me again and again.” She gives him a brief curtsy. “Thank you for your Counsel and your words. I’ll leave you to your thoughts, and we will likely do something very foolish and rash together soon.”

: smirks, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs. He’s…lounging. That’s new. “Is it really rash if you’ve planned it?” He smiles, and gently shoos her away with a hand. “You’re very welcome, heart-sister. You know where to find me, if you need my strength.”