Scene Archives

After the initial flurry of surprise, interrogation, and stew, both groups spread out for some space. Luĉja made their way outside, sitting with Kurat and Ĉasid, throwing bones for them and carving a piece of stone idly.

makes his way over, some time after Luc sits down–somewhat uncharacteristically, he’s got two bottles of ale in one hand. He gestures at a bit of rock next to Luĉja. “May I?”

: “You are always welcome, Friend-Wolf. Do watch out though. Ĉasid has discovered that Kurat will throw him in just about any direction.”

eyes the pair, then laughs, and sits down–more like a heavy flop, but still. “It’s not a child with a stick, I think I’ll be fine.”

gnosis-laughs, while putting away their carving. “Somehow, everyday here is even stranger than I could have expected. And I’ve lived here my whole life. How are you finding your stay here, thus far?”

laughs a little. “I think I am both better and worse suited to this world than I thought I would be. I beat with its wild heart…and do not much love its harshness.” He offers one of the two bottles to Luĉja. “Here. I’m guessing you can’t get drunk, but one hates to drink alone.”

: “It is a different sort of experience, and doesn’t last as long, but I sure can, if I put my heart into it.” They happily take the bottle, and raise it in celebration. “To your first hunt on the Beast!”

laughs, a little less enthusiastically than it looks like he wants to laugh, and taps his bottle to Luĉja’s, then takes a deep draught. “Mm. I admit, I wanted to ask how you were doing. You seemed to…run hot, there, for a moment.” His expression darkens. “When Salme fell.”

takes a long pull from the bottle, holds it up and stares at it for a moment. “I am well. As is she. I have been hunting for a long time, and I know that as long as I stand, my allies will be safe. I cooled down right quick once the whole pack of them showed up. It is important to keep a cool head when in danger. But anger can also be a useful tool in felling fiends. Had it been the two of us, I would not have indulged.” They take another swig, and then pour something from another bottle into it - offering it to Wolf as well. It smells like grain liquor. “It was also a very stark snap back into reality. I spent much of the previous day making peace with my past and visiting monuments of Clan Straylight. I am not ready to carve any more just yet.”

takes a sniff, makes a face like a man who knows he’s making dubious decisions…and lets Luc tip some into his bottle. He takes a drink, and only long experience with Almachadtan cooking displays lets him keep his face straight–though his voice is distinctly roughened. “Hrrr. I see. I am glad you’re not unduly unsettled by it.” A long pause, as he stares at the mouth of his bottle. “I wish I could say the same.”

: “Your stomach is strong!” They clap Wolf on the back, not-quite gently, but in an attempt to be. “You worry for her? Trust me, I have been on the receiving end of her Rites and she can nearly drop me on a good day. Besides. As long as we are together, we can all watch each other’s backs. The sword is fun, but I am happy to shield my allies all the same.”

sighs, almost a growl of frustration. “Aye. I know. It’s not as if she was in danger, not really. And yet…I keep seeing it in my head. The bite, the fall…” He bares his teeth a little, growls. “…back, before. On Almachadta, before…the Sanctuary. I almost always fought alone.” He takes another deep draught, exhaling the burn into another growl. “If you’re calling in a yeresh, you’ve already tried and failed to fight the threat on your own. I’ve faced my own death many times, now. It holds no fear for me. But…” He chews his lower lip, frowning darkly.

A comforting hand on their shoulder. “I understand. I fear not my own unmaking. Not that it will happen in Rite, it seems to me. But it is a terrible thing to watch comrades fall. The good news is, you no longer fight alone. The better news is that despite all of your youth, the five of you are capable of a truly prodigious amount of destruction.”

laughs a little, more of a rough bark. “You know, I always forget that you’ve seen more life than all of the rest of us combined.” He shakes his head, laughing a little less blackly. “I suppose I am a youth, to you.”

: “I have found that it rarely fails to tell a human that they are still young. You are a grown man, Friend-Wolf. Wise beyond your years. But, you are not yet old.”

snorts, nods. “Here’s hoping that we get to grow old,” he says, and lifts his bottle to Luc.

gnosis-laughs and clinks their bottle against Wolf’s. “To old age. Though I still don’t know what that means for me yet.”

: “I don’t know. But I hope you get to find out.” He takes another sip. It’s fascinating–each drink just makes him noticeably more…fluid, like carefully-tuned weights are dropping away, one by one. “So. My friend. Do you know that a song follows you?”

nods. “I have been missing it greatly in our travels. When you mentioned that you heard the songs of the worlds, I wondered if you too, would hear what I do.” Their gears seem to be running smoother as they continue to drink. “It is what home has always sounded like, to me.”

: “Do you mean the worldsong? Or the song beneath it?”

: “I assume the…song beneath it? I only hear the one.”

: “The one with the woman singing?”

blinks. “No, that’s not helpful. They both do. The…it…” he gestures, frustratedly. “Quiet. Elegaic. Sad.”

: “Yes. Soft. Always just far enough away that you can’t quite make out the words.”

: “I wonder…if we share. If we link. That might be enough. To hear it clearly. Something like that…worked, for Salme and I. Drew out a strange memory, from something she had heard.”

: “I would welcome the opportunity to find out. I have dove once with Salme into the Mask. This is…a similar thing, yes?”

: “Something like it. Kin, but not the same. I will warn you, it can be…intense. It blurs the line between self and Other. Not one. Not two. Do you understand?”

nods. “Yes. I know not how to start it intentionally, but I do know the experience.”

sets his bottle down and, silently, holds out his hand to Luĉja.

does the same, placing their hand under Wolf’s.

wraps long, strong fingers around the metal hand, and lets his eyes go heavy. Takes a deep, slow breath. “Your self to my self. Your soul to my soul. Let boundary blur, and two become one…” he says–and reaches, for that increasingly-familiar feeling of methexis.

shares, like with Salme, his gift–to Hear, to perceive the Silent Song, stronger than any yeresh known before. To make that which has always been heard, but never clearly perceived, take shape and strength.

remembers, waking, to the soft hum, to the gentle warmth. The immensity of whatever it was with them, in the Deepforge. Radiant and burning, full of love. Wound and purpose-made. A bridge. A shield. A hand, extended. Standing between two things, knowing both, but understanding neither. Not then. They have carried the song in their chest ever since. A memory that did not fade, even through the Strange Paths.

sighs/vents, one sound in two bodies–part frustration, part resignation–and then gently, carefully, peels back the link…just one body, now, and he flexes his fingers as he gets used to the feeling of being somewhat less metal again. “Ah…blast.”

takes their hands and looks them over, turning them front and back. “Alas. Perhaps it is not a thing to be known now. But it is still good to know that you also hear it. In this way, I am less alone.”

nods, quietly. “I guess it’s like you said. You no longer walk alone.”

nods. “Indeed. Perhaps, I never did, but failed to realize it.” They pause, and pick their bottle back up, “I am grateful to have you walk with me, Friend-Wolf.”

smiles, picks up his bottle, stands–with a bit of a grunt and a stretch. “Aye. I am too. Friend-Luĉja.” He pats the Endjinn on the shoulder. “I think…there is a bedroll with my name on it. Be well, my friend. And thank you.”

: “Sleep well. I will remain and keep watch. My thanks to you, also.”

salutes, with just a hint of a drunken sway, and wanders off to bed.