What is in your Head (Part 2)
GAME: Verna used a Scroll of Share Memory. GAME: Verna used a Scroll of Share Memory. GAME: Verna used a Scroll of Share Memory.
The 'appearance' of Aryia into her field of view is a mild startle and Verna's focus shifts to her. When has the full-blood's advice ever failed? Not once that Verna can recall and it led her to-
"Aura," is all she gets out as her attention snaps sharply back to the syl. From the point, in time for the touch. Hearing the truth mentioned aloud, even softly, causes a wince, even if such has always been truth.
Yet.. Auranar is right. Even if the threshold to they crossed into the mansion might well be upon the very spot she fell, by a (logical?) flick of Verna's own hand. Verna clears her throat, hoarsely. "Yes. I should. I must. We must continue on."
Auranar nods at Verna's words and the fact that she seems to be recovering quickly at least from these memories. Still, the fact that she's falling into them at all reveals them for the temptation that they must be. To have such knowledge... And to be unable to grasp it. Auranar uses the next scroll almost hastily, wanting to lead Verna down another path before it's too late. "Hotaru." She says the name as urgently as she says it quickly. "What does that name mean to you?"
Cesran finishes transcribing what memories Verna brought up for the last topic and he moves on to the next entry. He's focused just on the writing and not what any of these subjects mean. It's a difficult temptation, but knowing that should he fail it could lead to ruination, he sets his mind firmly to the task.
Aryia huffs a little, squinting and stepping away for a moment only to return with an uncorked waterskin. She offers some water during the pause, it cold from the recent snowfall.
She corks it after it's been accepted or denied, then tosses it over her shoulder to resume her vigil.
Verna accepts the offered water, even if just as further distraction... no, respite from the recent surge of memories. She offers a brief nod of thanks. Next she spares a brief glance to Cesran; she has not forgotten his presence, and the fact that he is quietly scribing is not at all a negative.
Her eyes return to Auranar (perhaps wholly unsurprisingly) with the next casting and the inquiry. The knowledge flows once more, the emotions subdued (thankfully) due to the spell. "He wanted the boy greatly. He ... he slaughtered an entire temple only to get to him." Lips purse. "Not that he did not, nor would not have, enjoyed the act all the same." It is clear she does not, and that the fiend's delight does not infect her. Her gaze remains on Auranar, increasingly more pained with these words. Hotaru was far from the only child than Eclvavdran orphaned.
Auranar seems to know what Verna is thinking about. There's pain on her features, the pain of knowledge. Knowing that the boy had lost everything only to be taken in by the minions of a demon no less. His fate was even less desirable than her own. She nods to Verna. "Last one. What do you want to know about Verna?" She holds the last scroll carefully in her hands. Uncertain which of the things remaining on the list should be delved into next.
Cesran continues to write focusing on making each letter as readable as possible as he listens to Verna give information. He continually steels himself against dwelling on any of the information that he hears instead moving on quickly letting each word flow over him like water.
Aryia nods in return, her back foot in a muscle twitch away from a stance. Her attention shifts back to Cesran for a moment, inspecting him, then back towards Verna. She watches the scrolls being used, how they were burning through them, a physical timer of how long this test of wills would last. And as the last one fizzles, that timer was soon to expire. Even though her heart wished they got to the bottom of the list.
Her thumb cracks the knuckles on her left hand. A proverbial pause on the test when it looked like it was going to be flunked.
What does Verna want to know? They may be too many to count, even in the context of just this one fiend. Even now that he is nothing, one with the Void or (she may well prefer) suffering in eternal penance.
How might they stop any and all lingering machinations?
How might they rid themselves of his lingering presence and finally have peace and freedom from this?
Verna wants to know many things, but some take priority over others. She is silent in thought for some time, though her gaze never wavers.
"I would know of your parents, Auranar. He would know of them." Whether there was conniving cause to the fiend's butchery or merely some happenstance havoc... knowledge would not undo what was done, but perhaps there could be some peace from it.
Auarana seems stimied by this reply, touched and yet... She looks at Aryia. At Cesran. At Verna and shakes her head. "Ask for the memory of how to undo these memories Verna. Not for... No." She whispers this last word. "It's not fair. Look at everyone gathered here. They deserve their answers too, they want Eclavdran gone from this world... and so do I. It's not fair to do that to them. I can't ask them to stand by and let you choose that memory instead." She's holding tightly to the scroll, fighting back the tears that threaten her.
Aryia looks to Aura, a bit perplexed by the suggestion. But she slowly nods at the insight, it was wise. And she gestures to do that course of action.
Still vigilant. Just in case.
Cesran finishes his writing and he looks up for the first time as he picks up on what's going on. "It's okay. We'll find other ways to stop this, we have a lot of notes all ready, besides maybe the answer isn't in memories, it might be something we need to discover. It's okay, it's really okay go ahead and find out about your parents."
Verna would know... but she would also not Auranar torn; upset; certainly not cry. Nor can she fault the logic of it: the needs of the many against those of the few, or the one. She follows Aura's gaze to Aryia, and Cesran, before she shakes her head slightly. This at Cesran's offering.
"No, she is correct, and wise. As ever." She looks back to the mistress of ceremonies with a flicker of smile, warm if weary. "We must be rid of him, in total. I would know how to remove these memories, from us all."
It's a hard thing to let go of something you want. Something that means the world to you. It's hard to watch it disappear into smoke and know that you've done the right thing. A good thing. It hurts, but Auranar smiles through that hurt and nods. She appreciates Cesran's words, nodding to him once separately. "Thank you." With that she unrolls the last scroll, takes a breath and reads it. "You defeated Eclavdran Verna... so why are his memories inside of you?"
Cesran gives a nod as he lowers his head back down to focus on the task at hand as the final question is asked. He's poised to start writing down the answer.
GAME: Verna rolls will: (8)+23: 31 GAME: Verna rolls will: (4)+23: 27 GAME: Verna rolls will: (13)+23: 36 GAME: Verna rolls will: (19)+23: 42
Once more recollection coalesces. Unlike the others, this is one familiar to Verna's own mind, if from an alternative perspective. She did defeat him, afterall. Rather, THEY defeated him. "It was as Mei told us," she begins. "His ability to draw out souls and harness them was a rare talent, even for his kind. He delighted in drawing out Seldan's,"
After that, her face tightens in effort, even as a cold smile once more starts to push upward from ... beneath. "It was m-HIS unique gift. One used thousands of times over thousand of years. Own personal touch of The Void, to remove a soul utterly from the natural order... It was most surprising when it was turned against him." A further flicker of that smile, though with a momentary warmth of perhaps mortal amusement.
That is lost as her visage scrunches tightly for a moment and then... her eyes snap open wide. "Even at that moment, he gloated. Turning it against him meant that -we- committed the blasphemy! Removing a soul, even one such as his, stands against the Order of All Things; a breach of the cycle. He knew it would taint us, believed we would risk our souls to seek his lingering knowledge to remove the stain..." He may not have been technically incorrect.
Words continue to spill quickly lest Verna forget them or be rendered unable to speak. "We must atone for that blasphemy, seek benediction, to remove the stain on our own souls." She then, belatedly, remembers to draw breath again.
Aurnar blanches at this news, her face growing an odd unnatural color. "Eluna save us." She murmurs, then looks at Cesran to make sure the words were written. As if she could ever forget them herself. "That's enough Verna, let the memory go." She hushes the woman gently, trying to draw her out of her own mind and once more into reality.
Cesran continues to write what Verna says so that it can be reviewed later. His concentration unbroken even by this unsettling news. He compartmentalizes it away to examine and possibly dwell on later.
Aryia crosses her arms as Verna speaks, her lips quirked off to the side. A demon does it for thousands of years, yet when /one/ set of mortals turn it around on itself, it's considered a sin?
"Tch," the mute scoffs. Have to break a bone to put it back in place sometimes, made perfect sense to snap the Order of All Things once more to make it return to itself. She unfurls her arms and glances to Cesran, making sure the wizard kept his sanity before stepping towards Verna.
She thumbs her nose and uses that digit to jab it twice to Auranar. A hand comes up, fingers crooked as she shimmies it near the side of her neck. "That's it," was the rough translation. "You did good. All of you." <Handspeech>
Verna's head sags, though she manages a small nod to Auranar, or Aryia, or Cesran. Perhaps to all. Likely to all. She draws in several slow breaths, letting it fade with each exhale. "Ever the fiend... ever seeking to entice, to manipulate. Even at the end... or after."
So much knowledge with which to tempt: all the secrets of the universe, if only according to his own stratospheric opinion of himself. Such power is tempting, admittedly. Perhaps best that facet is not mentioned nor recorded. Verna is not so tempted, however. She has suffered her hard lessons on hubris.
Which is why she only seeks a tiny morsel in the grand scheme of the universe.
Auarnar relaxes, unknowing of Verna's plan, and sets aside the list and the spent scrolls. "Lets get her out of those bonds then." She moves forward to aid Aryia in releasing the woman from her chair.
GAME: Verna rolls will: (20)+23: 43
Cesran finishes with his notes and he starts to organize them. "The next steps is to find out what we must do for an atonement so that we may balance the scales again and restore the natural order." He says matter of factly as he starts to pack up his writing desk.
Aryia takes a deep breath In, then slowly exhales Out, the silvery lines on her body fading away as she kneels down beside the wild elf. She starts on her own handiwork, sailor's knots are something you don't want to mess up else you'll just have to cut it all of. Soon enough, the Mourner is freed with Auranar's aid. One hand coils rope while the other holds out one of the many waterskins towards Verna. Half full of water, half full of slushy snow. And a crisp cold drink to douse off the burning questions that the universe yields.
She idly nods towards Cesran, how to go about such an endeavor is way about her head.
"Wait."
Verna utters only the single word, a forced breath that breaks even at one syllable. All without raising her head and eyes from a spot on the floor.
Auranar hesitates, still knelt at Verna's side and looking at the other woman in confusion. "What's wrong?" She scoots slightly back. Just in case. Because Verna would try to warn her if something was wrong. "Are you..." Possessed seems the wrong word.
GAME: Verna rolls will: (11)+23: 34
Cesran stops what he's doing as he hears Verna's request for them to wait. His hand goes up and his staff slides over into his grip, "What's wrong?" His glowing eyes scan the room looking for anything that might have gotten in.
Aryia stops what she's doing, the directive making her have to make a split decision.
Better safe than sorry. Scarred hands drop the waterskin and go for Verna's wrists.
She was the peace of mind, after all.
Verna inhales in a gasp as she now lifts her head as a tremor runs through her. No, a sob. Her eyes are wet even as excess slides down her face. She does not seek to stand, nor attempt to free herself from Aryia's mindful grip. Her eyes blink once, causing more to run down her cheeks, as they seek out the sylvanori in scarlet. She meets her gaze, though Verna's remains not entirely focused.
"Alailre... she learned of Hotaru. Of the plans. She risked all to spare him, to protect him. A child not her own. Decades before he was ever born..."
"When the Eclavdran came for her, Evendal was there to defend her, and battled by her side. As their last, they sent him back to the Hells, together." A soft smile forms between the rivulets, and is not borne by any fiendish glee at carnage. "You are so very much like them."
Auranar hasn't heard her mother's name in... So long that it makes her ache to hear another say it. Like they might know the woman she couldn't remember. The father that had died alongside her. Tears start down her face and she grabs Verna by the shoulders. She wants to ask a million things. What her mother looked like. If her father was the great magician that everyone said he was. She wants and she wants, but she wants Verna back most of all! "Let it go. Please let it go. Verna. Verna... It's not worth it."
She wants to know what happened so badly that it's like a fist in her chest. Because every day she wonders. And she knew. Knew that her mother had made a bargain with Eclavdran to save her and her father, but not this. That her mother had done something good in her final moments. That she'd tried to save this little boy that seemed so important. "Please come back. Please. I can't bear to lose you to him too."
This was torture. Pure torture knowing that someone she loved was sharing a mind with this terrible thing that had killed her childhood. Made her grow up all alone and without anyone that knew her. It was killing her slowly to watch Verna fighting it. "Let it go. It's enough. It's enough."
Cesran moves to sit back down and quickly re-opens his writing desk to start to take this down. He once more focuses on what he's writing rather than what it means to block out any chance of being taken over by the memories. He then gets up and leaves the writing desk to move to Verna's side. "Please come back Verna, we need you here." He says quietly.
Aryia stares at Verna. Gauging. Weighing. Checking. She was given one very specific job, and one very specific task.
Peace of mind.
A glance to the wild elf.
And safety.
Auranar was the conductor, and the mute would play the tune. She passes a wrist off to her other grip and raises a hand. Moonlight wreaths it.
And there's a solid >SMACK!< of flesh meeting flesh, and a bright flash of light in Verna's eyes.
"Quit fucking around," she signs, shaking off her slapping hand. <Handspeech>
Verna sought... something. Truth? As a scholar, she has always found comfort in verifiable fact. Closure? As a Mourner, she is well acquainted with those grieving the lost to find solace in such. What was sought what is received not the same. Foremost is Auranar's reaction. She was not meant to cry, and it is Verna's doing, now.
Cesran calls her back. Is she not here? Now? That may be a matter for debate.
Ah, yes. There is then the pre-arranged signal: Aryia striking her about the face. It has proven an effective method. While the others make her question, the contact and flash of light summarily ... re-aligns her thought processes and leaves her startled and blinking.
"I... I am here." She is now more certain of that.
The loud noise of flesh meeting flesh startles Auanar, particularly so close. It actually takes her a moment to realize that Aryia hit Verna. There's an instant flash of ire that rises at the thought, but she cools her own temperment and instead focuses on Verna's response. "Thank the gods." She's not a particularly pious woman, but she'll be at the temple of Vardama and Eluna tomorrow to thank them for Verna. "Please tell me that you're done Verna." She can't take much more of this.
Cesran does his best to hold his composure as Ayria does what Aryia does and a little snort laugh gets out. He clears his throat and turns his staff away as she looks like she's ready to burst out laughing as well. Cesran nods, "Good. I think that's enough for today."
Aryia already has her fist cocked back for something more painful to help speed that re-alignment process up. The look of ire is ignored, the scarred mul'neissa would smooth it over later. She had a job to do.
Glowing gaze rests on Verna as the grip on both wrists tighten.
She nods towards Auranar. Needing confirmation lest the hastening resume.
Verna lifts one freed hand. Slowly. The hand is not raised high, only to hover at her chest height, palm vertical, fingers together. A single deep breath before she responded.
"I am done. No more. I would not cause any further pain to you, Aura. I would not grant Cesran further amusement, to say naught of those who would peruse his record. Nor do I wish any further possible concussions."
Her hand lowers. "Even if I may be well-deserving of such."
Auranar smiles through her wet face, and clears her cheeks of tears. She shakes her head. "No. Not deserving of such. Just..." She manages a thin, watery smile to Aryia. "The one was enough, and for that I am glad."
Her moment of ire was a passing one, and she has no judgment on the mul'niessia woman for having struck Verna. Could not given that it meant that she had the woman returned to her. "And now we know something of how to undo what stain he left behind. That's what really matters."
Cesran smiles, "Ah don't worry I won't put in that last part. And you'll all get copies so we can look them over." He says as he heads back over to the writing desk and the semi transparent servants start to come out and start to clear out the equipment. Another set starts to come in with a long table and chairs, "Now. So as not to waste the magic, I must insist that you stay here and have something to eat. I've all ready had rooms prepared for you all." As he says that the servants start to bring out food and others start to set up to play music.
Aryia glances to Auranar, Cesran, then back to Verna. A breath In. Exhale Out.
Wrists are released, and the once glowing fist comes down to ruffle Verna's hair. "I think the slap was all that was deserved," she motions, in agreement with Auranar before stepping away to clear a path between the couple. She absconds to her belongings, looking Cesran and grinning a bit at the though of some food.
Rustle. Rustle.
She holds up a icy waterskin. "You want this? It's going to hurt like a bitch in like, two minutes." <Handspeech>
Verna is not accustomed to having her hair tousled. Admittedly, given that there is so little of it, the end result is not notably different than previous. The efficiency of practicality. Released, she now finally rises from the chair, pushing off from the arms. It seems as if she has been seated for far longer than measured.
"Thank you, but no," she declines Aryia's offer politely, "as it was deserved. There is much to be done, as well..." As she considers this, she looks to Auranar, then Cesran, to the arrival of food and sounds of music, then back around those gathered. "To begin tomorrow, perhaps." There is something to be said of priorities.
-End