Same as It Ever Was (Part 7)
Things go awry when one asks a tiny silver dragon to take them to the dreamer, which is precisely what happened. Ainath took the group of adventurers to a beautiful golden hall, where a beautiful woman (who then proceeded to shape-shift between several forms) with red hair speaks now to them. It seems that the Dreamer is Zenith himself, and there is a deeper backstory to this whole situation than anyone had realized...
"Zenith has been trapped in a dream of his own imagining for eons." The woman looks horribly sad then. "It all started when I gave ##### two little eggs. He didn't know what to do with them, at first, but I told him to be a good father and to try and make something of them. Anything. Just _make_ something that isn't a clock or a chronicle or something. So he did. One egg hatched with a beautiful raven, with black feathers and gorgeous blue eyes. Then his brother hatched, a beautiful leucistic raven."
The woman sighs. "Then the ass said, 'I really don't know what to do with these,' so I suggested he could make them servitors. But he's always been a methodical one. So, he started testing them. It was okay at first. Sometimes I'd stop by and he'd update me on what the birds were doing and where they were. And then... He lost his Compassion."
Zenith shudders in his sleep.
"When the dust settled, I came to visit, and I found out he made... so, so, _so_ many copies of the poor things." The woman's expression is downcast. "Subjecting them to different anomalies in time. Throwing them at timelines that aren't real, copied from the current timeline, or isolating times and then throwing an Apotheosis and a Zenith at them. This little Zenith... He's the one who survived. Thousands and thousands of Zeniths who refused to complete their missions, only to have their existence ended for their disobedience. This little Zenith came to me once he became a servitor, begging me to teach his father Compassion. He _needs_ it back. So... I split him off, and he found all of you and had you follow him into a false timeline in an attempt to write a story that will _move_ the Raven."
The Lady of Inspiration looks at everyone. "I'm sorry the instructions were conveyed so poorly," she says. "Zenith is, effectively, trapped in himself and in a timeline that's not real, so everything got confused and jumbled. You have characters you can instruct and tell to get into position and to tell a beautiful, wonderful story. The key is your Narrator: Nala. The girl who Zenith loved more than anything. She has power over that timeline to rewrite reality to your wishes."
Zeke looks at Telamon and then at the woman who is a goddess. "Thisss one knowsss little of ssstory-telling sssave for hatchling ssstoriesss! Thisss one doess not know a sstory good enough to move a deity. Thisss one *will not* move others about without their permisssssion!" Surely he is misunderstanding somehow. He looks at Telamon, hoping that the other man will help him understand better. Help him through what has been for him an endless cascade of misunderstandings.
It's not the first time Telamon has been nonplussed, but it's definitely one he'll remember for a while. It's not being in the presence of Vaire that's doing it, but the -task- set before him. After a long moment, he clears his throat. "That is... a tall order." Tel glances at Simony, measuring her expression, before he continues, speaking to Zeke.
"It's like how a play is performed, Zeke. We have to set the stage, collect the cast of characters, and have them on their marks with lines in hand." He heaves a sigh. "Granted, usually the stakes aren't quite so high. Let me think on this a bit. There have to be things Navos cares about -- maybe we need to consider those strings first."
The plight that has befallen Zenith is one that certainly draws a measure of compassion from the rogue, who looks at the sleeping bird with a sad expression. "Doesn't sound like a lack of compassion, to me. It sounds like cruelty." She sighs to herself, biting slightly at her lower lip in thought.
Rune is only a fledgling storyteller, and even then, her skill is in the written word, not directing some farce of a play to draw on the emotions of a god. "When... I write for my Patron, I tend to focus on lived experiences... the things that gods and Fey and more supernatural beings have distanced themselves from." Her brows furrow.
"But in this case... I haven't a clue where to start." She had let the storyteller's gift that her mother gave her lay fallow for a long time. Enough time that it's sometimes hard to give it life again.
Aryia could not do anything further than simply Stare at the shapeshifting aspect of Beauty itself. The mute pugilist just sits there. A blink, a tilt of the head, and she's back at the present, the sheer weight of the situation hitting. She counts something on her fingers. One. Two. Three. A chuff escapes her lips, and her attention goes back to the goddess.
A glance to Zeke and his interpretation of it all, she can't help but give a quiet snort. "So we have to convince an anxiety ridden girl to narrate a story that has the ulterior motive of bringing empathy to a being as powerful as you that lacks all compassion," she lays out with her hands. "Well shit." <Handspeech/Tongues>
Her deity may not have compassion, but the Goblin does. She understands testing methods. But the thought of such 'science' being tested on creatures? That brings her great upset.
"This is most distressing.", she says quietly, eyeing Telamon with sad eyes. Simony looks to Zeke then, nodding in understanding. "I understand how you feel, Zeke, I feel the same. We all go about our lives believing that we decide what we do, that our lives are being lived by us and our loved ones." A measure of hardness comes into her expression, anger. "To think that this not true, that someone or something else is... dictating our lines, and pointing us to our proper 'spots'... ".
The Goblin sighs at length, and then straightens.
"It may not be enough, but... I would offer my compassion to Navos. I would hope it is enough to open His eyes to this... plight."
How do you give Compassion to something that bears no capability of Compassion - outside of his Memories of his former actions? Harkashan, seated, brings one leg over the other and touches his chin with a big frown. This is all a lot to ask of Mortals. And if they are getting tasked by the God of writing stories...
"None of us are writers, certainly not to your level of skill. But I interpret that... that's not really what you are looking for." Harkashan remarks. "The best stories written, the source of all stories, aren't the dreams and the made up ones. It's the experiences along the way... the things that happen naturally because of people caring, peoples' history. Except, Nala's 'history' is filled with hatred and dismay."
He taps his cheek. "Letting her friends just beat up some people does not teach compassion. And you are saying Nala is our Narrator..."
Harkashan looks up. "Compassion requires a Villain. And we already have one." Something Simony said. "Both Nala and Zenith have been put into a position where perhaps, Compassion is best taught by having them find a way to forgive Navos. Because otherwise, our only option is to turn Nala into the Villain."
"It is, as Telamon noted, similar to a play, and yet not," the Lady of Inspiration says gently. She pats Zenith on the head. He doesn't move. "These people... They once lived. They lived in the time that Zenith inhabited. They keenly wished to live, and through your story, or your stories, they live again. As much as he might not admit it to you, Zenith was deeply mourning Nala and her dreams, the people she wanted to meet."
The Lady of Inspiration smiles then. "There need not be only one story," she says. "You may construct multiples. It is up to you as a group to decide. And do not discredit yourselves. You have all lived rich and wonderful lives, full of danger, compassion, excitement, love, fear, loss, and victory. Draw upon your lived experiences, or dream of different ones, then coach your actors--your counterparts. Although..."
She frowns deeply, and even this expression is beautiful as it is terrible on the face of such great beauty. "Simony and Zeke's counterparts play slightly different roles, and that is why you have not met them yet. Simony's counterpart is much the same as the one you know now. She bears the memory of Apotheosis, and the role she has to play is suited for the 'middle' of the story: a source of revelation to the other characters. Zeke's counterpart..."
She looks at Zeke. Here, she looks deeply apologetic. "A nightmare," she says. "Touched by Caracoroth in the same way that the Great Wolf himself was chained for fear he might swallow the world. Yet even the Wolf longs for peace. Yet even some part of your counterpart longs not for Nightmare, but for calm and compassion. He could be given it, redemption by compassion, or he could be put to rest, redemption by peace."
The notion Harkashan proposes is one that gets a thoughtful nod. "This could work as well," she says. "In fact... I quite like it." The Lady of Inspiration's eyes sparkle a little. "But it depends entirely on how all of you wish to approach it. It is at your feet to determine the path. I, and Zenith, may be the inciting incident... But you are the protagonists. You are the heroes. You are the ones who will teach the Raven how to have compassion again."
Zeke considers Harkashan's words and nods. "If that story will not suffice, this one knowssss another. A ssstory of bravery and kindnesss of adventurerssss that thisss one sssaw happen in truth. Thisss one would be willing to ssshare wordsss with all of you." The story in short is a story of a fae queen known as Salina, whom was known as Endless Winter. She created a plague which enveloped all of Alexandria. She even beset the entirety of the city with a foul demon lord whom was her pawn. Mighty heroes great and small tried their hand to defeat her, but in the end they were offered a choice. They could destroy her utterly, or they could free her from her prison.
In that moment. They chose compassion, and freed her.
This one act of compassion did not glean them any compassion from her but their act of compassion undid the working of the foul demon lord and thrust him out into the abyss from whence he had come. Freeing them all.
Zeke looks at the goddess, troubled by the news that his counterpart is cursed in such a fashion. "Thisss one would free thisss other if thisss one could. Thisss one would not leave him to sssuffer."
"We cannot be both Director and Character at the same time. And it may be more troublesome than I thought initially, to show compassion to a being that has cast your own timeline aside and destroyed it." Harkashan glances to Zenith. "Zenith destroyed it..." The Sith-makar is in deep thought and quiets as Zeke speaks as well.
Telamon mulls over Vaire's words, as well as those of his friends. He smiles, faintly, at the remark about living a full life. "And I've barely started, seems like," he jokes.
He nods slowly at Zeke's tale. "Compassion and empathy are powerful things. Sometimes, they can be hard to bear." He takes a deep breath. "For much of my life, I've dreamed of strange places, landscapes not of Ea, and the being known as the Watcher In The Stars -- a powerful flumph sorcerer who sought to mentor me, even across time and space. Because he and his kind foresaw that we might need help, they sent their children across those trackless, empty spans between the stars. To us."
"Consider the compassion needed for such an act -- to send your children away, to a distant place. Where you might never see them again, but because you know that place needs your help, they go forth, to hopefully prosper and bolster the heroes of that distant world."
Tel bows his head a little. "Where does the soul find such courage?"
Aryia frowns at Simony's suggestion, already subtly shaking her head at the idea. But she listens to the others, as well as Lady Inspiration. Who was... not being very inspiring at present. At least for her. The pugilist was not a story teller in any capacity. She does, however, quirk a brow at the two counterparts revealed.
She turns to Zeke, an unreadable expression on her that's best described as worry of the memory, and begrudging agreement that yes, it was a pretty damn spot on story for such a thing. She lived part of it.
The mute glances to Telamon. To her hands. Flexes her fingers. "It finds courage in the depths of dark for the spark of light." <Handspeech/Tongues>
The revelation from the Goddess causes Simony's eyes to widen, and then her expression grows most thoughtful.
"So then... ", she says to Zeke. "The bad guy needs to make his presence known. Nala must be allowed to forgive them. Redemption by compassion. That should be our goal, I think."
The Goblin blinks then, staring at Harkashan. "HE DID NOT!", she says, her expression brightening. She points to the slumbering, dreaming bird. "This here is our show of compassion. He says he destroyed a dead end... but he has not! He remembers... and he is keeping that world alive by remaining in his dream! Zenith has bought us time, so... time to be big damn heroes, and one bad guy. If Zeke is the bad guy, then I could be the director. Since our analogues are absent. They are absent because we must play our roles."
Her expression grows wistful as she takes in what Tel says, and she points to Aryia. "That's as best an answer you will ever get. The Watcher sent his children, because he must in order to save us. We must play our roles, in order to save Zenith, Nala, Zeke... and ultimately Navos Himself."
Rune quiets, her eyes shifting from person to person. However, she seems more at a loss than most. Her fingers trace along the edge of her necklace, pressing the flesh of her thumb against the metal. The sensation grounding her in the moment.
"So far, what I've seen of Nala, she is looking for escape. At first, through her dream boy... but when we spoke to her, she seemed to want to be able to be stronger by her own hands, too." She looks to Zeke, remembering their conversation, and Nala's wanting. "She needs not only to find strength in others... but also in herself... Strength enough to see the weakness in those who've hurt her and to forgive them."
Then, the rogue just lifts her shoulders in a half-shrug. "I'm not really sure the right answer, but if nothing else, we need to give our actors the tools they need to play the part, and be the people they need to be to make those choices."
"Your roles, and the roles of the people who Zenith keeps alive by dreaming of them, yes," the Lady of Inspiration says with a smile. "Don't forget about the others beside Nala, Zeke's counterpart, and Simony's counterpart. Telanmo is Nala's soulmate. He means everything to her, and she's beginning to realize that. Runelei, Shankahar, and Yiara--Aryia's counterpart--are connected to her, possibly through friendship--as unlikely as it might be, in some cases--or through rivalry, or through both. Moniys--Simony's counterpart--holds a memory of Apotheosis. And..."
She takes a breath. "Maxitia-mayana. That is the name of Zeke's counterpart. It means... 'To make whole from hunger'. He could be villain. He could be saved from villainy." Here, she looks at Zeke. "I'm sorry. You will find him disturbing. But he was born into cruelty, yet a cruelty you can understand. It is not far off from what you experienced. If I could... yet the Raven would not allow me to change that."
GAME: Aryia rolls sense motive: (15)+30: 45 GAME: Telamon rolls sense motive: (15)+29: 44 GAME: Zeke rolls Sense Motive: (15)+9: 24 GAME: Simony rolls sense motive: (4)+5: 9 GAME: Harkashan rolls Sense Motive+2+2+5: (18)+31+2+2+5: 58 GAME: Rune rolls sense motive: (19)+9: 28
Zeke looks at the goddess. He looks at her very seriously. "Sssaaa." He says the sound very slowly and the breath that comes out of him veritably trickles with electricity. The unease is palpable. "Maxitia-mayana?" He knows the meaning of the name, and the implications of such sit ill with him indeed. He steps back, almost tripping over his own tail and shudders, his whole body locking up. Fear roils off of the sith-makar, evident for any that know sith to see.
Suddenly, all that Zeke wants in all the world is to go home. To see his cihuua. To be elsewhere. To not be here. He looks at Telamon and he knows that in this moment that he is meant to be brave, but... Everyone once failed him. Everyone lost faith in him once long ago, and he does not know if he could bear it again to watch his allies lose faith in him again.
Telamon's eyes immediately narrow, flicking to Zeke suddenly at Vaire's description of his counterpart. "I think..." He pauses, then continues, "I think that might make for our 'villain' so to speak. Someone who needs help, to be redeemed. I know Lana believes in that, and there's no reason Nala should be any different."
"There's some possibilities there. But Nala wouldn't be able to do it alone. She'd need Telanmo, and probably the rest of her, ah, allies. And the object wouldn't be to destroy this Maxitia-mayana, but to save him."
Casually, he steps over, standing next to Zeke. Looking positively diminutive next to the makari priest. And yet radiating a kind of serene strength. Someone Zeke can lean on if he needs it.
Darkness hangs over Harkashan's expression as talk of Hunger follows. Oh most certainly, he knows of this Hunger. Though he's not had to deal with them as much as Rune has, Brother Skielstregar has fought with such matters for a long time.
"Our counterparts are their own people. We cannot change them on the short term, unless Nala changes them through her own Narration. And even then, she is not the Dreamer. So it has to remain consistent..."
His head tilts to Zenith.
"There's a lot being asked of - compassion wise. Compassion towards a possible Forgotten. Compassion towards Zenith, who Nala used to consider her friend. Compassion towards Navos, who has lost it and caused so many Zeniths to die purely because they disobeyed his orders..."
He slowly rises. "Compassion requires Understanding, Forgiveness... so let us begin by Understanding Nala and the people of Zenith's dream... let's go and Understand Zenith through them."
Rune's brows furrow as she tries to keep the various pieces on the playing field in her mind. No, not just actors, or roles to play in a story, but people who would have had real lives if Navos hadn't interfered. It harkens her back, in that moment, to her mother struggling with the different worlds that still seem so real to her.
"I don't know what happened in my counterpart's life, other than the role of mother and father in my history being swapped. But I do know that Cor'lana was one of the people who taught me acceptance, and to see my own strength when I didn't think I had any. If Nala has even a fraction of that... then my counterpart would be drawn to her the same way I was."
Then, the name seizes hold and drips a cold feeling into her heart. She looks to Zeke her lips pressed together. Rune has seen her fair share of Forgotten, but perhaps it is too quick to assume such a name immediately means that fate. The Sith's body language speaks volumes, "We're here, Zeke. You're not alone."
Aryia nods as Simony points her out, but she ends up chewing on the inside of her cheek and leaning back in the chair she's in, balancing on two legs. Much to consider. Much to be paralyzed on, as this entire endeavor was not her forte at all. Best she could do is shove nuggets of wisdom into whatever it was to be told.
Her attention rests on Ceinara. Briefly, before looking at the fire. It was hard to keep a gaze. The implication she lays down gets a worried frown to crest her lips. Aryia knew what that meant.
The Archmage was faster to the beat than she was. But she reaches out behind her- not for the bluescale- but for a stool. Picking it up, and dropping it into the semi-circle of discussion. There's a glance to Zeke and Telamon, then a 'pat-pat' on the stool. She's not one to crowd anyways, but does care in her own way.
"I think understanding is the best first step before we figure anything further," the mute agrees with Harkashan. <Handspeech/Tongues>
The tiny Temperance looks up at Zeke, then to Telamon as the sorcerer stands by the Sunguard's side. "This will only work if we stand together. I see fear, Sunguard Zeke. Fear not. You are among friends. Allies. You are a kind soul, with a firm moral compass. There is no one better to do what you must do."
She looks to Harkashan, and then Aryia, nodding in agreement. She settles down upon the ground, sitting cross-legged. Waiting to see what comes next.
While the others discuss amongst themselves, Aryia turns towards Ceinara. Thinks. And then shrugs. She does a subtle wave to get their attention. It was probably not necessary, they probably knew Aryia was about to get their attention. She holds up one finger. Then turns it into a fist, other hand into a flat palm. And smacks it three times.
She raises a brow, questioning.
GAME: Aryia rolls 1d3: (2): 2 GAME: Riptide rolls 1d3: (3): 3
In that moment as the others start to prepare, Rune only takes a brief moment to offer a small word of prayer to the Sky-Singer, and then reaches out to touch across her own arm, where a swirl of tattooed marks looks like unfurled butterfly wings. It was her role to gather stories, retelling those she experiences or hears from others. This... is a little more hands-on.
So, pushing to her feet, she looks to the goddess and asks the one thing that pops into her mind. "If... you don't mind me asking, what's your favorite story? Or book of stories or..." She trails off, as if not certain how to phrase such a thing. Proper decorum in the realm of gods is a bit uncertain. "If we're going to try to tell one to Navos, it might be good to know what kind of tales capture the attention of one of the gods."
The sound of a fist smacking into a hand catches the Goblin's attention. She glances to Aryia, and then Ceinara. Simony stands then, shuffling closer to Ceinara. She offers a reverent bow, and then waits for the Goddess to answer Aryia and Rune, before speaking quietly. "If I may ask an indulgence, oh Muse of the World? Who painted all of those paintings inside the manor? I am no expert, but by my reckoning... they were all done by the same hand? Was it you? They are fantastic... so realistic. Did... did you paint reality?"
Zeke takes the chair that Aryia offers and closes his eyes, buoyed by his steadfast companions and reminded that these are not those ones of his adventures past. These ones will not abandon him. They will listen to him and hold him fast when he is in need of their aid. He prays. He prays to the goddess before him for the words to find to speak to the heart of the god that he has worshiped all his life and the sure knowledge that the Dragonfather is always listening even if the words are imperfect.
"Thiss one isss not perfect, Thissss one was not created whole, But you have made of me, Your visionss worthy sword, Thisss one hasss not always been brave, But you have made me, Sssteadfast o Father, You have made me, Like you."
Zeke bows his head.
Telamon watches Zeke to make sure he's regained his psychological balance. When the makari prays, he nods, and moves a step or two away, considering. Then he carefully kneels down, resting his hands on his thighs as he takes a deep breath. Another. Closing his eyes, letting his thoughts move from here.
First, of course, to his wife -- even separated by the planar boundary his thoughts are always with her. Then on to friends and family, and to the task set before him. His hair begins to move slightly, as if drifting around his face. The calm serenity of the night skies, the merry silver gleam of Ni'essa's face in his mind as he focuses for what lies ahead.
The Lady of Inspiration grins broadly at Aryia as she initiates the unspoken game. She, herself, raises a palm, then smacks it three times in reaction to Aryia--and wins. "Better luck next time," she signs. <Handspeech>
Rune's question draws a broad smile from Ceinara. "Well, that's the thing," she says. "I love every kind of story. The good ones. The bad ones. The ones where everything happens. The ones where not much happens at all. Because they belong to every being. They belong to all of life. How can I not love that? It is what I _am_."
Then Simony's question draws a little laugh from Ceinara. "It was me," she says. "But inspired by everyone's memories. If you draw on someone else's perception of a person, you only get their view. If I draw on Cor'lana's memories of herself alone... It would have been a dark and dour painting with pinpricks of light. If I draw on Telamon's memories, she would be exceedingly beautiful in the way that he perceives her. So I had to draw on many people's perspectives. It's beautiful, how much people hold all of you in regard."
Zeke prays, and the goddess closes her eyes. Off in the distance, so far away from here, drums play, like the heartbeat of the soul. She hums. It is like the humming of a mother, like the first cradle of flesh or scales to her, like the song that is sung first. Her form shifts back to that sith-makar one, the Flame-singing Dragon, with wings like Zeke's own.
"He listens, Zeke. He listens, and He gives you a name."
Her eyes open. "Ipalnemohuani. He Through Whom One Lives. He lives through you, His most devoted servant that currently walks among mortals. You, Ipalnemohuani, who lives as the shining example of His light. His light is through you. So go, and shine that light."
The form falls away, and Ceinara is back to her softskin self. "So, if you are ready... I can send you all back to Zenith's dream."
One, two, three, throw! Aryia snaps out a crisp flat hand, only to look past it and see a pair of scissors. "-h, sh-t," the pugilist hisses quietly with a little smile, chuckling to herself. Her hands move, "Next time then. I thought it'd be a funny anecdote later regardless of the outcome. An atheist challenging a god and all," she shrugs, letting her arms fall to the sides. The others were praying, getting their thoughts straight, or asking more of Ceinara while they had the chance.
There's a blink as there's a hit drum in the distance, and the shape shifting to makari. The revelations presented are nothing more than seriously grounding. The most devoted, and a new name decreed by a god? And they were here, sitting in Ceinara's den! Aryia rubs at her eyes, blowing out a breath of disbelief. But it was hard to. It was right in front her. "D-mn." That's all she really could say to all of that. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Once the group is ready, the Lady of Inspiration instructs everyone to close their eyes. It feels... like falling asleep, which is a little troubling, because there's naturally the reaction for some people to not fall asleep standing up, but then that reflex falls away...
...
Eyes open. Everyone's standing in snow. A field of snow, the wind whipping around the snowflakes like unkind little swords. Behind the group, Nadina's house sits, empty and quiet.
Off in the distance, Nala walks into the woods. She's not dressed in terribly warm clothing. She sings softly in a voice that seems hollow as she trudges in the snow. "Winter came..."
"Nala?" The horrified little voice comes from a familiar source. Zenith's right by Simony's feet. His blue eyes are wet with tears. "No, please... Not again..."
Harkashan... Harkashan observes. As they make preparations, so does he. But he does so in near silence. A soft humming, praying while standing. He knows the Deathsinging Dragon is listening to him. But his focus is elsewhere. On this momentous task. Enough so that he almost misses the words lifted to Zeke.
The Sith-makar quiets, as Zeke is given a new name to bear, and bows his head to him in respect. To be graced with a new name by the Dragonfather, assuredly, is something to be celebrated. Something that would, in Am'shere, result in a whole community celebrating.
"The people of Ketsalkuetspaltahtepetl will be elated by this news." He bids to Zeke. "Not only did you save them from the Walking Disaster. Now you bear a Name given by the Dragonfather. They will undoubtedly wish to know your name." He reminds Zeke.
Then... sleep.
And then, there's Zenith, at Simony's feet. A long and deep breath.
Understanding.
The Goblin listens as Zeke prays, to asks of his deity the motes of power accorded to those who work in their name. Something familiar to the wee Temperance. Her eyes widen at Zeke being named. "A living embodiment of the Sun-God. A deep honor." She giggles then at Aryia, her hands signing. "So appropriate for a Goddess. You are more skilled, Aryia, but less lucky than the gods.". She nods to what Ceinara says... and sits up suddenly, blinking at the snowflakes falling.
Nala's state of dress immediately has the Goblin standing, her holy symbol glowing as she prays. A glowing aura is seen briefly around Nala's form.
"Zenith. It's okay. We have spoken with Ceinara... We will find a happy ending, for Nala. For you. Nadina, and Navos himself." She stoops down to gently pick the Raven up. "We shall mend your wounded heart."
The spectacle of Zeke being given a new name, a -better- name, elates Telamon. Just wait till Cuemoni hears of this. His expression is one of barely-restrained glee, as he smoothly rises to his feet. "The temple will have to update all their paperwork," he quips with a sparkle in his eye. Some things never change.
When they transition to the dream-realm again, Tel is ready for it, landing in the scene easily. The snow doesn't chill him, but it's damp, and Nala's forlorn voice doesn't help. "Simony, please pick him up. He needs to be held." Those starry eyes hunt for Nala as she's walking into the woods, starting to move after her.
"What is winter to the stars?" he calls in reply. Despair is something Cor'lana wrestled with, and he knows she needed all the help he could give her.
Zeke takes a breath. He has a new name this day. A name that shines in his heart and gives him life. He looks down at Zenith and comforts the bird. "It will be well. We musssst take her to thisss one. We mussst take her to thisss one, ssso that thissss one can be taught another path." There will be many stories this day. Stories of old, and stories of new. They will write many stories and a god will grow a heart.
There is a faint nod of Rune's head, and a ghost of a smile that can't quite reach her eyes given their current situation. And yet, there is some comfort in the fact that... at least to the goddess of stories, everyone's story matters. No matter how good, bad, big, or small.
Zeke's new name is also met with a more genuine smile, but she doesn't add to the words said by the others. They more than cover the honor that is more than well deserved.
These two comforts are what allow her not to fight the feeling of sleep. The feeling that she usually fights each night, knowing that she is far more prone to nightmares than pleasant dreams.
Only to find themselves in the snow, in a moment that is so obviously important to Zenith. "We're going to write a different ending." She agrees with Zeke on that matter.
Poor Zenith shivers on Simony's shoulder. It's not the cold. Ravens have very good protection against the cold. Their downy feathers keep them warm. It's why they like playing in the snow. "Please don't let her do it," he murmurs.
Telamon's cry out to Nala makes her stop in her tracks. The golden aura settles into her, and she shivers for a moment, even though she can't feel the cold anymore. "What am _I_ to the stars?" she asks over the snow-studded winds. "Mother's gone. I can scream and I can cry, but the stars won't do anything to help me."
GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (5)+37: 42 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (3)+33: 36 GAME: Zeke rolls Perception: (15)+9: 24 GAME: Simony rolls perception: (11)+25: 36 GAME: Rune rolls perception: (5)+36: 41 GAME: Harkashan rolls Perception: (12)+31: 43 GAME: Zeke rolls Sense Motive: (9)+9: 18 GAME: Zeke rolls Sense Motive: (2)+9: 11 GAME: Telamon rolls perform/oratory: (3)+24: 27 GAME: Telamon rolls perform/oratory: (7)+24: 31 GAME: Aryia rolls stealth: (10)+46: 56
Telamon moves through the snow as though it had no more grasp on him than loose grasses, his eyes glowing softly. "They see you, Nala. I know your despair, your anguish. Sometimes, the trick is just to listen, and to remember that as harsh as winter is, it -always passes-. Just as this, too, shall pass."
He spreads his arms open, his expression kind. "Don't be owned by your pain. Don't let it take control. Cast that blade aside. You need no weapon to face your foes. Only the magic that sleeps in your heart, ready to be called on."
"Don't let her do wh..." Simony squints. Gasps. And is running full tilt through the snow, little feet making crunching sounds in the snow. "No no no no...", she says, over and over, though at a volume that's mostly to herself. She slows as she gets closer, a hand going up to comfort Zenith, while her other one reaches towards Nala.
"We aren't the stars... but we are listening."
Zeke snuffs the air and frowns at the scent. He recognizes that smell, would recognize that scent anywhere. He knows then what he must do, even if it's a little foolish and a little unwise. "Would you end thissss ssstory before you have your c-sssoul-mate?" He remembers just in time the word that was used before for the story. "There issss ssstill more to be done Nala. Pleassse. Lisssten." He is not as good at diplomacy as Telamon is, but he can speak words where he needs to.
And then Aryia is back at the snow laden place after a brief bout of sleep. With a husk of Nala walking off into the woods. She had a good sense of what was unfolding. Doubly so after she squints into the distance. While the others talk, she holds up a sign behind her back. "Insurance." And she falls to the back of the group. There's a grimace as Simony makes a break for it, but she stays the course and-
The mute is gone. Only a fading after image remains of where she once stood, a pair of boot prints on the ground that are slowly filling.
A pair of moonlit glowing eyes in the dark behind Nala open. <Handspeech/Tongues>
GAME: Zeke rolls Diplomacy: (14)+16: 30
Harkashan's eyes see, but he does not immediately react. In truth, Nala doesn't really pose a danger to them. Well, the knife doesn't anyhow. Her apparent ability to control the reality of this dream-scenario... that's its own thing. He slowly turns towards Rune as time passes and others begin to speak, before looking back to Nala once more.
Let the others have their words. He instead, is looking to Learn in this moment.
GAME: Harkashan rolls Sense Motive: (11)+31: 42
Something in Nala's words have Rune's senses on high alert, her eyes flicking to the weapon in the girl's hand. Her first instinct is to run, as Simony had done, though having multiple people rushing at the girl may not be the best idea. Instead, she catches the sign from Aryia and gives only a faint tilt of her head in acknowledgement, taking slow steps in the slow.
"It might be easy to think that no one understands, but... I lost my mother when I was a little girl." Rune offers up that pain, if only to try to let Nala know that someone else has been in her shoes. "I cursed everyone. I cursed fate. It didn't feel fair." Her words are soft as she touches the necklace at her throat. "But... I can promise you that you aren't alone. There are people out there, waiting for you. Those that will help you and those that you will help. Like... my dear friend helped me."
Nala's eyes are wide things as people approach her, and everyone's words make her pause. Finally, she turns more fully, but she moves to hide the dagger clumsily behind her back. It's still there. People can see it. She's not very good at hiding it.
"Zenith?" she asks, her eyes darting towards the bird on Simony's shoulder. "You didn't go with Mother?"
"Of course I didn't," Zenith says, sobbing now on raven metrics. "I didn't abandon you. I love you, Nala. I love you so much. You're my _sister_." He sounds just like Pothy now. The walls are coming down that Navos had made him build. "I love you. Please don't do this. Everyone's right."
Nala looks around. She eyes Rune, who's also lost her mother. She eyes Harkashan, who remains silent, but that his presence is a comfort in some ways. She eyes Telamon and Zeke, and finally...
The dagger drops behind her into the snow, and her hands go to her face. She burrows into her palms, crying into them. "I'm sorry," she whimpers between her sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It's all she can say, like she's committed some great crime, but... she hasn't, right?
-TBC