Scene Archives

has shown Aurelius some neat rocks, has had a very nice, scalding bath, and has changed back into her desert silks, though her hair hangs long and loose around her shoulders, dried into soft, dark waves. She watches her Awoken Prince in the dining hall, her pack looped over her shoulders and lengths of something that looks a lot like dark, midnight-blue rope hanging from her hands.

is within the dining hall, and Ari and his assistants are there, listening intently on the Awoken’s story of how the universe is laid out. “So right about here would be Almachadta, and here’s The Beast, and then below all that is Samudra… later on I’ve got another experiment to run, it’ll be a doozy!”

: “Will it?” She asks, coming up behind him and looping her arms around his shoulders. “Because I think you might need a bit more rest and a bit less experimentation.” She smiles at Ari and his assistants, says, “Shade and comfort,” with perfect politeness, but there must be something in her eyes because they immediately start vacating the table. “(This is a kidnapping),” she tells the Awoken, and then slips a blindfold—cool, midnight-blue silk—over his eyes.

: “Whoop– sorry everyone! No time to explain, I’m being whisked away!” He takes one last sip of his orange water.

knows the sietch, and knows its comings and its goings, reasonably well at this point. She guides the Awoken into a standing position and binds his hands behind him with silken cord that matches the blindfold. Then, it’s to the hippalectria stables, where one is summoned and she guides him up onto the fiend. “You trust me, right?”

: “Always and always.” He grins, gripping the hippalectria tightly with his legs, snuggling against the binds.

smiles—grins, really, breaking character for a moment—and binds him further—silken cord around his legs and waist, keeping him secure. “I wouldn’t want you to fall,” she says. When she can’t quite reach around the creature, she asks the silk cord to return to her hand. It does, because she spun it with her own hand, and it could not do otherwise than to obey her will. Her knots are sure and well-made, but will slip apart easily when—and if—she wills it. She hops up onto the hippalectria behind him, and starts riding back toward the City.

raises his eyebrows as he feels the heat of the Sun, and gently leans into her for stability, but also, because he’s snuggling against the binds. (Her, in this case.)

embraces him, and guides the hippalectria toward the City. “You really do need a rest,” she says, making sure the hood of his cloak is pulled down and every part of him is protected from the corpse-sun’s glare. “Though I’m not sure how much of one you’re going to get.”

: “Ooh, threaten me with a good time?” He laughs. “You’ve been busy too. I wonder who will collapse first?” he singsongly questions.

: “Isn’t the always the question? And the challenge?” She urges the hippalectria onward, letting silence fall between them as they journey for some time. Eventually, the hippalectria slows, and she slides off the fiend’s back. “Shade and comfort,” she says to whoever greets her at the gate, and perhaps her Awoken Prince can feel curious and slightly scandalized gazes on him, and perhaps he can’t, but then Salme snaps her fingers and the bounds holding him to the hippalectria fall away, and then the hippalectria itself is gone, and he floats slowly to the ground on a breath of tenebrous gnosis, hands still bound, still blindfolded, but standing.

has full trust in her, and doesn’t flinch as the mount suddenly disappears beneath him, finding his footing remarkably well despite not sensing how far away the floor is until contact is made. He taps a heel onto the ground, ensuring its stability. “So… we must be in The City, yes? Wait, don’t tell me– we’re not done with the journey yet, are we?”

doesn’t tell him, just laughs, low and rich and confident. Then she puts her hands on his shoulders and guides him, not down the broad central avenue but through slanting side streets, still geometrically precise and well-maintained, but narrower, more private. They catch the gazes of many people as they walk; the blindfold itself seems to be almost a kind of beacon or taboo—people either stare or politely avert their eyes. Then, finally, they draw to a stop outside an unassuming building called The Shared Dark. “Vehru Zilze gave me a suggestion when I spent the night there. Perfect for atmosphere, for those who savor the novel and strange. That’s you if it’s anyone, isn’t it, my bluejay?”

: “Strange paths aren’t only for walking.”

laughs again and guides him inside. Maybe he notices the immediate relief from the light outside, a few soft murmurs between herself and the person who greets them. She guides him into another space, even darker, has him sit on a soft couch, and then presses in next to him. She frees his hands first, coiling the cord up neatly and setting it on the table in front of her, then she takes a moment, watching him when he cannot, definitionally, watch her, before she reaches up and removes the blindfold. ⁂

is pressed next to him, and aside from the darkness of the caves, they are sitting in the darkest place on Mu they’ve ever been. It’s a room with deep, soft couches with low backs and tables laden with food and drink. There are no windows, and no light but for the soft glow of the stage, where the voices of several someones echo, unseen. “Hi,” she says, meeting his eyes in the dark. 🙧

: “Sweet sparrow,” he coos, leaning into her, rubbing temples. “Your way with words carry extra flavor today.”

: “Ah,” she says with a slow, wide smile. “It’s because I found something in the caves. I think it belongs to you as much as me. I thought I might give it to you.” She pauses, considering. “Though maybe I should see if you can take it.”

: “The flight of a bird is swift and dextrous, but the terrestrial has learned to close the distance.” A hand raises to massage the lower part of her scalp. “And I am ever so eager to breach the sky as I wont.”

leans back into his hand. “Oh? And how would you breach the sky?”

: “A leap. A path. Or maybe I change the game, and steal the wind from beneath the sparrow’s wings,” he whispers, gently pinning his palm to the back of her hand onto the couch.

’s laugh is like a gust of wind itself. “Oh, Sinitöyhtönärhi, you can’t steal a single thing from me; you can only take what I give freely.”

: “But there isn’t much I wouldn’t give to you freely. So breach the sky and take what you want.”

leans forward more, his hand moving to cup her cheek, kissing her firmly, in the dark- just the two of them, thousands and thousands of miles away from everyone else here in the dark.

kisses back, of course she does, lets him lead her now as she lead him here, and it is just them in the dark, the breath shared between the two of them; their shadows entwined, unmistakable, the same; their wants, their desire, the give and take between the two of them, and in that moment, she is open to him, unbounded, and he takes what she has freely given.

holds their moment of endless possibility, its form infinite and ever changing, but the core being inviolate and fierce. The darkness allows– encourages this.

eventually– some time later– when the heartbeat of time catches up– he gently releases their joined desire, opening his eyes to meet her glittering ones. “I’ve missed you too.”

shivers, a bit, hearing that tone in his voice. “Good thing I kidnapped you, then?”

: “Great thing.” It fits, like it was made just for him. “And I’m glad we’re catching up. This-” and he nods, and you know, somehow, that he means the intonation-“-is something you’ve found hidden here? Or hidden within yourself?”

considers for a moment, and then says, “within myself, I think. I—hm.” Even in the dim light, he can probably make out her eyes, suddenly intent on him. “You understand fear, don’t you? You feel it, right?”

: “As much as it might surprise you and others-” he nods his head from side to side. “-I do. Yes, I do.”

: “Maybe not of… common fears? Common threats? But I do.”

: “It doesn’t surprise me. I suspected.” She reaches up to run her fingers through his hair. “My fears are … common and not. I think almost always of the Sword-Saint’s shrine on Almachadta. Of my death that almost was. That might yet be. It isn’t the death, it’s the—futility of it. The knowledge that it won’t matter, that it will be forgotten, that it will all start again. And because I think of the shrine so often, I think of—how small it is. How little air there is. How that inevitability is a bit like being buried alive. And it some point, it meant that I also became afraid of any small, dark space.” ⁂

: “I thought our trip to the … heart meant more enclosed spaces and I didn’t … want to falter. I didn’t want to fail. So I asked the apostates where I could find a dark, narrow space that was still safe, and they directed me to somewhere, and I—worked through it. Found a way around it. It turns out, if you take on enough tenebrous gnosis, you can wear stone like silk and become the wind itself. And that’s when I found this tone.” 🙧

slightly tilts his head, and there’s a softness in his stare. “My dear, brave darling.” He gathers her hands in his, bringing them up to kiss her along the knuckle. “Your efforts are exceptionally strong. You are so exceptional.”

the dark hides her blush. “I—I was a bit silly, really. If I had faltered, I have all of you to help me. But. I didn’t want to. I wanted to find a way through. For myself.” She breathes out. “And then I thought—that I wanted to hear your voice with this resonance. And I was right to want that.”

adds, “Tell me what you’re afraid of, Awoken.”

: “What I’m afraid of…” He leans back, and one of his hands leaves hers- it grasps an already-poured drink that was on the nearby table.

: “What I fear, is becoming not who I am. But how I fear this, is less defined.”

: “A revelation? A turn of the chessboard? An emotion, so powerful that it drives me into the ground, and that the only thing worse than the pain of memory, is that I find would find the ground oh so very comforting.”

grins. “I do like a low hanging fruit.”

: “Is that a weakness? Or is that always who I was?”

: “So… I fear a version of me, who fits so very much more finely, and who is already dead.”

takes a drink. They’re back in The City, so it’s an alcoholic version of their incredibly pure lemonade. Crushed, almost pureed ice. Salt around the rim. It’s quite refreshing.

listens, and considers his words. “Do you mean who you were? Before this began. Before you died, if that is what happened to you?”

swirls the drink around. “Something like that. I do wonder, that if I had remembered more from the start, maybe I wouldn’t feel that way.” He smiles. “But I can’t change that part of the equasion!”

: “It’s not just who I was, though.”

: “It’s also… everything around who I was.”

: “Height, weight, blood type, favorite food, we can transplant all these things to anyone. Like trying on a new set of clothes.” He sips.

: “But then, what of the others around that person? What of their society? What of their home life? Thier peace with the cosmos? Have they already stared at the end of everything, and found comfort?”

: “Being fair… it’s not all bad.”

: “Some of it does fit and form quite nicely. The stars are beautiful to study, but also to laze underneath while they twinkle so very far away.”

shifts, and then she is in his lap, straddling him, looking down. She blocks out most of the rest of the space, so the only thing in the dark he can see is her, limned in the hazy light of the empty stage. And then she tilts her head forward, pressing her forehead against his, and her hair is a curtains the two of them off further—a shared darkness within an already shared darkness. “I told you once on Almachadta that a hero must know whence he came. I think I believe that, still. The past matters. But.”

: “It doesn’t matter more than who you are now. And you are mine. Impossible and beloved and unbound by rules or gravity. And whoever you were? He is dead. Respect him. Honor him. But let him be dead.”

takes a shaky breath. “At least. If that is what you want. And I will always give everything to help you be what you want.”

: “An emotion is just an emotion. It doesn’t define action. Thank the Light, or I’d be fucked. Feelings, memories—they all matter. The people who loved who you were, or hated him—they matter. But they don’t matter more than—I’m sorry. I’m not even sure if this is what you’re actually concerned about. I just.”

: “Whatever memories or past await you, you get to decide who you are right now. I guess. I think that’s my take.”

lightly laughs, and lightly kisses. “I try not to let it interrupt my day to day shenanigans.”

: “Just, every now and then– a bolt of lightning from nothing strikes, and one needs a moment to ensure all their hairs are still in place.”

: “Stop. You don’t need to—reassure me, if that’s what you’re doing.”

: “We’ll be in Valaïs soon. We’ll face the end of all things soon. We don’t know what will happen after that, and I know you’re brave in that way, but. I am strong enough to carry your worries as well as your joys. Let me be strong for you.”

: “And if I misunderstood your concerns … then tell me again, and I’ll listen more carefully.”

wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, and his kisses are soft and comforting- less demanding than earlier. “You got it right the first time.”

kisses back, matching him. She always tries to match him. “I had to recently answer a question: if I was better alone or with you and Aury. And I thought that—without you, and him, I was certainly more useful. And I didn’t know what ‘better’ could possibly mean beyond that. With you, I’m more vulnerable. I get scared and I have doubts. I’m—maybe not messier, but my messiness is more of an immediate concern. But. The person who I am, the person who I’m becoming—I couldn’t be her without you. And I often like her very, very much.”

breathes out. “You’ve taught me how to be strong without tearing myself to pieces, making myself a scrap. So when—or maybe it’s if—you get hit by a bolt of lightning from nothing, know that I’ll be there to help you set yourself in order.”

: “Good.” He relaxes his forehead onto hers. “I’m counting on you.”