Memory Lane

It's a long, cold trek. The campsite that Zeke has set up is small, and with the snow on the ground it almost disappears into the wilderness. At first glance it could almost be ignored. Looked over. There's a small stream nearby. Big enough for fish though it doesn't look as though anyone's bothered to go fishing in it. There's no fire set up either. Just a tent set up to ward off the chill, and that is all.

The whole area is unnaturally quiet. No animals stir in the winter cold. Nothing. As if something has frightened all of them away.

Cold doesn't bother Seldan. It has not, not for a couple of years now. Still Seldan is dressed in full war kit, and has been searching for much of the night. He'll be tired tomorrow, that's for sure, but right now, adrenaline, worry for the one he calls brother, drives his footsteps.

For much of that night, there's been nothing. No sign of campers, no sign of life, and that tent is the first sign of anything he has seen. He lets out half a breath at the familiar sight, and deliberately makes plenty of noise, allowing his armor to clank and jingle and his boots to crunch deliberately in the snow as he approaches.

GAME: Zeke rolls perception: (16)+5: 21

There's a shift inside the tent. A small amount of movement. An awareness that there's _someone_ in there, but no one comes out. No one responds to the sound of approach. Then there's another sound, something close to a muffled groan. It's hard to make out because it's clearly being covered up.

GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (9)+25: 34

The sound is faint amid the noise Seldan is deliberately making, but it's there, and he frowns. "Kin," he calls, quietly.

Initially silence comes in the wake of Seldan's words. Then a hesitant response. "Kin?" It sounds... absolutely miserable. But it is also clearly Zeke's voice. There's a slow shuffling in the tent, and then somewhat more hurried motion. A hiss. A clank. The clatter of crystal against crystal. Then finally the tent shakes a little as Zeke pokes his head out the door to see if it is indeed really Seldan. He looks... well sith-makar do not cry, but it's obvious that he got no sleep last night, and that he's very upset. "Thissss one... Thisss one will be out in a moment."

It is indeed Seldan, and he approaches the camp a little more slowly. "Kin. Why did you not -" He stops short, his eyes lowering when he sees the pain in Zeke's features, and hears it in his voice. "Come, you will freeze with no fire like that."

"Thisss one apologizesss." Zeke says almost automatically, shuffling around a little and then climbing out of his tent. His robes are wrinkled and crumpled from laying in the tent and he makes no effort to fix them. The fact is that he doesn't seem terribly aware of his condition, instead shuffling around. Looking for wood that has not been gathered for a fire. Idly he turns around and starts looking near a tree for dropped branches though half a thought would have told him that any wood on the ground would be too wet for burning.

"Zeke." Seldan's tone is gentle, but firm, not unlike the one Zeke uses when tending his own patients. "Pack your tent. We return to the shelter. It is already warm. The wood here is far too wet to burn, and I would not have you take a chill." It's not often that the paladin takes charge in this way, but he has done so a few times. "Did you think not to burden me with that which troubles you, vanishing without explanation will serve your purposes not at all."

The sith-makar stops in his tracks, his shoulders slumping with guilt. "Thisss one isss sssorry. Thisss one did not wissh to add to your burdensss." He stares at his tent. "Thisss one would have you return to the ssshelter kin, thisss one iss not good company to keep at the moment." Zeke huffs, but it's not laughter, it's an attempt to keep some other noise locked inside his throat.

"I shall not return, do you not return with me." In truth, it's a stab in the heart to see Zeke this upset, and Seldan lets the idea of returning to the shelter go for the moment, instead removing his gloves as he so often does, tucking them in his belt, and offering both of his hands to the makari shaman. "I have the means to make a fire here, wet wood or nay. Do we return to the shelter, or do we remain here?" It seems that Seldan leaving is not on the list of Zeke's available options.

Zeke is... lost. He doesn't know how to make a fire. He doesn't want to go back to the shelter and... Seldan moves and Zeke's eyes track to him, and the paladin offers his hands. As he has so many times before. As he always does. He is Zeke's center. A place to come back to when he is lost. Zeke's voice warbles in his throat and he shakes his head. "Sssaaaa. Thisss one will not be another burden for kin!" He speaks with more force than he means to, huddling into himself. Misery is his companion, it tugs at his soul and sucks him down. "Do you not sssee Ssseldan? Ssky-sssinger Her-ssself hasss sssaid it. Thisss one can not..."

GAME: Seldan rolls will: (6)+32: 38

"Sorrows are halved and joys doubled, when they are shared, kin." Seldan does not move, simply - waits, although the depth of his own hurt sings through the words, try as he might to keep it. "Think you that your refusal to share your pain does not burden me? For do you freeze yourself to death here, what then shall become of those you care for? Share words with me, kin. There are no secrets between us. Do you forget?"

The hands remain exactly where they are, waiting. "Never would the Dreamer say to me that I should abandon someone in pain, and I shall not do so. Nay, she merely reminds me that some tasks are more important than others."

GAME: Zeke rolls will: (15)+15: 30

The darkness in his mind is whispering, is twisting Seldan's words. Zeke knows this and yet he is powerless in the face of it. He does not know how to escape it. It is cold. It is a world without windows, and it defeats him. The only light that has ever existed in that place, exists now before him. Holding hands out that he doesn't know how to reach. "Thissss one isss only one kin. You have ssso much more important to worry about." He shudders, trying to pack his pain back away. Trying to not feel the shame, the loneliness, the agony of other times that envelops him. He shoves it down. He straightens his spine. "Thisss one will be well. You do not have to worry."

GAME: Seldan rolls sense motive: (7)+19: 26

"I shall be the judge of what is important to me, in this moment, Zeke. You are not well. Do not lie to me. There are no secrets between us," Seldan repeats, striding forward to close the distance between them. This time, he does a thing that he has never done before - never dared to do. He reaches for Zeke's shoulder. For his clawed hand. "I shall be the judge of the burdens I choose to carry."

Zeke stands very still. Does not try to avoid the touch, but he does sag under it. His eyes half-lidding and his ability to force himself to bear his burdens evaporating under the weight of kindness. "Ssseldan..." He trails off, lifting his other claw to gently touch his kin's hand. "Thisss one will hurt you again. Thisss one isss not sssafe." He lets out a little mourning sound, because he was just holding on by a thread. A thread between him and the sorrow that lay beneath his scales.

"Your sorrow wounds me more deeply than any claw, Zeke. The Dreamer shall see to any claws." Seldan's entire demeanor immediately dismisses the concern, and when Zeke accepts the touch, he moves to pull the makari shaman close, as a friend might. "Enough. Share words with me, kin. Share your burdens and your sorrow."

Zeke lets out a low sound and embraces his kin. He could only hold out so long. Doing so had taken every bit of his mental fortitude and now. He didn't have words. Couldn't find them amidst his out-letting of sorrow. This was why all the animals were gone. He'd been in mourning and frightened them all away. He can not weep but his sorrow is there. Until at last he has worn down the edges and _can_ find the words. "Sssorry. Thiss one isss not sstrong enough."

"There is no shame in sorrow." Seldan lets out a breath when Zeke finally relents, and simply holds him close, for as long as the makari will let him, letting him do as much release as he will. Only when Zeke speaks does he do so. "May I take us back now? I shall return for the tent, but we must get you warm, and swiftly, and I would share words and tea with you." Zeke's demurrals don't seem to concern him in the slightest. "Come."

The blue-scale nods silently. In no mood to try packing his things now. Nor does he have the ability emotionally to handle such a task. "Yesss. Let usss return home." He is so cold. His muscles are cramped with it. His mind slow with it. "Wordssss and tea would be good."

Good enough. Seldan does not let go of Zeke, holding the makari close with one strong arm and raising the other to draw a set of sigils in the air over Zeke's shoulder. He waits for no further acknowledgement, and in short order, the camping gear is left behind as the magic whisks them back to the familiarity of the stone shelter they had built, with its many blankets, the tea set, stools and chairs and rugs.

Almost as soon as they arrive, Seldan shakes his head sharply to clear it of the last of the sigils and the space-time relationships they build between them, and releases Zeke to stride over towards the banked hearth. "Kin, choose for us a tea."

For a moment there is hesitation from Zeke - born of being unused to traveling by teleport though they've done it more times of late. Then he snuffles his way over to the tea box. He is quiet as he picks out a tea, shifting through the various choices until he finds the one he wants and puts it into the tea pot. He brings the tea cups with him and looks wistfully over at his sleeping area. Rather than curling up in his own misery he huddles at the table, staring at the tea.

While Zeke is picking tea, Seldan immediately sets about rekindling the fire, although not by his usual patient method. No, he throws two more logs on the fire, adds in some kindling and the remains of the shavings he'd made to make wooden stakes, stirs up with the poker the banked logs, and chants a swift spell before the hearth. The three sigils before him light up in burning orange-red, and he touches his fingertips to the three sigils and speaks a word of power.

The burning orange-red transfers to his fingertips, and he gestures with them at the logs and kindling. Fire shoots in multiple thin streams from his fingertips , striking the kindling and logs, and he holds it steadily until the kindling is burning merrily and the logs have begun to catch in turn.

Once he is satisfied, he checks the kettle for water, seems displeased with his findings, and turns to stride out the door purposefully. A minute or two later, he is back, the kettle heaped with clean, fresh snow.

By the time that Seldan returns, Zeke is shivering. This is an actually good sign as it means that his body has no longer resigned itself to hibernation. The heat is warming its way into his bones and the sith blinks slowly as it does so. Thankfully the space that is heating is small, and soon enough will be warmed to the point where Zeke is no longer a large reptilian popsicle. He looks up as Seldan comes in. "Ssssa. Thisss one did not mean to make you do all thisss work to care for thissss one."

Indeed not, it was the reason that he'd left.

GAME: Seldan rolls will: (15)+32: 47

Seldan does not answer, merely sets the snow filled kettle on the hook above the fire with a quickly-chanted cantrip and a gesture. "It is no trouble," he repeats evenly. "I would know that you are well. I shall not ask you to share words until there is tea in your claws." There's a good reason for that, and it is not one that needs to be spoken. "I shall be the chooser of my burdens, Zeke."

Zeke nods. "It wassss... ssselfisssh of thisss one to run off like a hatchling. Thisss one could not think properly." This is not the sharing, merely an explanation of the apology he had just given. He waits for the tea patiently, but his sorrow hovers over his head like a halo. Guilt. Shame. He snuffles again, making an occasional warble that in anyone human would have been the occasional tear slipping out unintentionally.

Seldan draws and releases a deep breath, slowly in and slowly out, once he is content with the fire that is now beginning to roar. "You are forgiven, Zeke. Your position is not an easy one." His work done, and water put on for tea, he sets about divesting himself of gear and armor, piece by piece. It takes time to remove each piece in this way. "Remind me to have my ring enchanted to call upon the servant force," he mutters to no one in particular. Although he does not say so explicitly, that would make what he is doing a great deal easier.

The blue-scale blinks. It takes him a moment, but Zeke has control over himself enough to realize that Seldan is taking his armor off himself. Not an easy task. "Thisss one can aid you." He offers, lumbering to his feet slowly and making his way over to his kin to help with the arduous task of removing armor.

"If you are up to it, kin, the movement will help." Seldan's response is gentle, and he allows the sith to help as he may. He works quickly, laying each piece on the armor rack in turn, as he has done so many, many times before. By the time the task is done, the fire is well and truly roaring, flooding the room with warmth.

He strips himself down to shirt and trousers, leaving his boots and hose by the hearth to warm and dry. He looks down at his shirt and trousers, judging whether they are dry enough to leave on.

Zeke helps as much as he is able, his joints and body is stiff from cold, his mind aching with the thoughts yet unsaid. Still, it does help to be helpful even in this small way, and he is no longer cold and aching by the time that Seldan is looking himself over. The sith even divests himself of some of his own layers - stripping down to comfortable pants alone. "Make your-ssself comfortable kin. It iss warm enough to sshed many of your layersss."

"Even so." In the end, Seldan ends up changing clothing entirely, although the old padding beneath the armor had already dried with magical swiftness, and the armor is snow-free and immaculately clean. When he returns from the sleeping area to the hearth area around the fire, he wears only a fresh shirt, trousers, and holy symbol, the shirt one of the sleeveless ones he reserves for summer work, that exposes the furry tail wrapped in ink around one bicep and the mountains of Khazad Duin on the opposite shoulder.

Good timing, too, for the kettle begins to rumble with the promise of water soon to be boiling. He draws the sigil for the now-familiar cantrip again, the one that lets him control the hot kettle with remote gestures. Under his direction, the kettle pours water into the teapot, and he gestures the rest to return to the hook inside the hearth.

Still they don't share words. Not yet. Zeke sits himself in peaceful silence, using this time to collect his thoughts as the tea steeps and adds the comfortable scent of tea to the room. He's chosen a heavily mint flavored tea, the better to scent. By the time that the water has steeped the tea Zeke still isn't entirely sure what to say. He pours out the tea for the pair of them though, using the simple familiar gestures to ground himself. He gives Seldan the tea first and then wraps his claws around the second cup. "Peasssce Ssseldan. There iss Forgotten in Alexandria." His words are dead things.

Seldan seems content to wait for Zeke to sort himself out, letting his kin steep and pour tea and accepting the cup only when it is handed to him. "Even so? But you are not one such. Think you that they are a threat?" The question is gentle.

Zeke considers the question, and then shakes his head. "No. Thisss one offered aid. The... he isss, wasss a Sssunblade." Zeke lifts his flesh-and-blood claw to his face and gently massages his eyeridge. "He thinksss him-ssself outssside the Dragonfather'sss grasce. He isss unable to offer healing. He isss touched by... necromancy."

Seldan takes a long, slow sip of tea, allowing himself time to steady himself, to absorb the impact of the words. A paladin who cannot contact their god? That is not a thing that the Elunan paladin likes to think about, at all. "He is touched by necromancy - and the Draco Solid denies him for that? Does he not repent?"

"Thisss one isss unscertain. He may have not realiszed that he needsss to do ssso? Thisss one told him that he mussst do ssso, and that if he doesss, that thisss one will Commune on his behalf." Zeke is not drinking his tea, but his face is very close to it. So far his voice has been very calm, but it is the calm of storms. "It may be that the act of becoming Forgotten hassss ssealed the Dragonfather off from him for-ever."

"Is that not for the Draco Solis to decide?" Again, Seldan's question is gentle. "You seek then to lead him back to the path of righteousness, do you not? But - you may lead.a horse to water, but none can force it to drink. You cannot force this one to repent," he offers quietly. "Rejoice, then, in this, that you stand not where he does."

"It isss." Zeke agrees readily. It is up to Daeus to decide if one is worthy - or not. "Thisss one doesss sseek to lead him back. To help him find the Dragonfather'sss light. But kin, how doesss thisss one rejoisce in anothersss pain? In knowing that thisss one nearly died rather than become what he became? Thiss one mournsss for him kin. That he once knew the Dragonfather'ss touch, and isss now denied."

The pain in that leads Seldan to lower his eyes, staring into his teacup. To be without Eluna's light - is unthinkable for him. "This only would I ask you, kin." He still stares into his teacup, though. "Does this one wish to return to the Dragonfather?"

"Why would he come to thisss one if he doesss not?" Zeke tilts his head, honestly curious, trying to imagine what other purpose someone could come to him in such a way for. "He ssseeksss anssswersss asss to why he iss disssconnected. Thiss one can only imagine that he ssseeksss the Dragonfather onsce more."

That, at least, seems to reassure Seldan, although he sits in his usual meditative, thoughtful, steady pose, legs crossed as he sits before the fire with teacup in hand. "Then I can think of none better to aid him," he offers gently. "Not all are as strong or wise as you, Zeke. You resisted. Now you are offered the chance to extend a hand to those who did not."

"Thissss one isss full of doubt Sseldan. Thisss one hass memoriesss like a black fog in the mind. The patient thissss one hasss, hass reminded thisss one of thingsss..." Zeke shakes his head. "Can thisss one truly aid him? Or will the anssswerss he ssseeksss make thingssss worssse?"

For a moment, the fire roars amid Seldan's silence, flooding the room with warmth, but Seldan is content to let it burn merrily for now, as he considers his next words. "Would you shine a light upon that fog, kin? In the hopes that it dissipates before the clarity of the truth?"

Zeke is silent a moment himself in the wake of Seldan's gentle question. "Thisss one remembersss kin. Ssstarving. The pain. Hearing thisss onesss mate hurt. Being unable to help or heal. Thisss one could only bandage the woundsss. Could not call upon the Dragonfather'sss light." There's hurt there, and he murmurs. "Ssso many timesss thisss one thought that thisss one wasss going to die. And that it would be a blesssing."

Knowing that speaking the words will help Zeke to process the horrors he describes, Seldan only listens, fingers curling around his teacup. As he listens, though, his eyes lower until he stares at the stone floor. His thoughts remain his own, though, although they are not happy ones, and it is a breath or two before he speaks. "Salina stood between you and the light of the Draco Solis," he offers gently.

"Yesss. Ssshe allowed the worsssship of only one in her domain." Zeke hissses then shaking his head. "Ssshe wasss a child! Thisss one knowsss that now, that the demon sssaught to bring you low ssso that you could be defeated, sssso that hisss enemy would perisssh. But ssshe... Sshe wasss not a child to thisss one."

He grasps his face with his claw. "Even knowing, thisss one wantsss her gone! Even knowing thisss one doess not know what thisss one would do if thisss one sssaw her." His breathing is unsteady. "Thisss one isss not sssafe. Thisss one hass not enough mersscy in thisss onesss heart to sssave her."

"Well do I understand. The pain that she wrought to so many - was unspeakable. There can be no forgiveness for what was wrought." Seldan's eyes remain on the floor. "I - nor did I find mercy in my heart for her. Not - for that. I spared her for one reason, and one alone."

Zeke looks up, his eyes wide and his iris narrow. "Why?"

"Perhaps that is incorrect," Seldan murmurs. "Two reasons. Eluna bade me do so. She made Her will clear through Her servant, that day before the pool. The words shared with me shall stay with me all the days of my life. _Vengeance is not the duty of a knight, and there is mercy in the Light._ I spared her because the Dreamer asked me to show her mercy - and denying Eclavdran to his face was a worthy reward indeed." A short, small breath of laughter, short-lived, escapes him.

He looks up then, regarding his kin steadily. "It is in my mind that there is mercy in the Light, indeed, and that it may be that the Dragonfather asks not vengeance of you, but mercy?"

Zeke nods. "Thisss one knowsss, that ssseeking her out to end her isss not a thing that thisss one ssshould do. That the Sssky-sssinger bid you not, isss enough. But there are daysss kin..." He curls his claw above his cup of tea and the motion is not gentle, not kind. He ducks his head. "That isss why thisss one sssaysss that thisss one isss not ssafe. Thisss one isss not _good_ enough."

"You seek to rend the throat of an evil that is no more, kin, save only within your mind," Seldan offers, pausing to take a long drink of his tea. "To wish vengeance for the pain wrought on another, that is - natural and mortal. And yet - what purpose does vengeance serve you?" He curls his fingers around his now half-empty teacup, regarding his kin with a steady gaze. "Anger is like drinking poison and expecting one's enemy to perish before one."

Again Zeke nods, warbles lightly. "Thisss one knowsss. Vengeance will not sserve thisss one at all. Thisss one isss angry, thisss one isss sssad, thisss one... isss lossst. Thisss one knowss well your wordsss, and were thisss one another, advissce that thisss one would give in your sstead. He acknowledges this with another nod. "How doesss one defeat an enemy that isss oness own ssself?"

"Do you fear your anger? Your sadness? Do you believe that feeling such is not right? Think you less of yourself for feeling so?" Still Seldan's gaze is that steady, sober thing, and the only sign of his own turmoil is the rise and fall of his chest from deep breaths.

Zeke doesn't speak, but he nods. All of those things are true.

"Feeling so is not wrong, after all you have suffered, kin." This time, Seldan's words are so gentle as to almost be difficult to hear. "There is no shame in anger, or sadness. The Dragonfather does not judge you for harboring such thoughts, and nor do I. I cannot fault you for what you have described."

Zeke finally lowers his claw, picking up his tea and cradling it in both claws. "You are right kin. We are the mossst harsssh judgesss of our-ssselvess. In their infinite wisssdom, the Godss sssaw to it that we did not do ssso; but plasced the Death-sssinging Dragon to do it." He takes a small drink of the tea and hums his approval. "Thisss one will try harder kin. To accept."

"How does one offer mercy to others, if one cannot offer it to oneself?" That question is more rhetorical, more musing, than anything as it comes from Seldan, whose eyes have again lowered to his tea cup. "It is by Her infinite wisdom that my hand was guided that day, and none surer. For I was not myself inclined to offer mercy, and yet do I see now that that was the infinitely wiser course."

Zeke huffs an very small but amused noise. "It ssseemsss easssier to give than receive sssuch kin. You are wissse Ssseldan. Wissser than the yearsss that thisss one hass lived, to teach thissss one better." He is certainly amused now. It twinkles in his green eyes, and it's good to see. Then more seriously he considers, his gaze going middle-distant with thought. "Thisss one hasss a thought kin, a dangerousss wild thought. If Kol isss not a vampire, but a nightmare born of the realm of dreamsss... Perhapssss that isss how you defeat him asss well. Merscy."

That is a sobering, dangerous thought indeed, and yet, Seldan considers it seriously. "There is much that I know not of Kol, save secondhand. I know that Serene was among those who saw his boyhood, but I can but wonder - how does one become as Kol is?" Slowly, he turns his eyes towards the fire. "I must first learn his true nature, be he a vampire or a thing of dreams? Must I confront him in the realm of dreams? Grant him peace? Release him in some way? For surely shall the sword not suffice me entire. It is that that I do not know," he murmurs.

"This much do I know - it is unlikely that those who hunt with me - those who rescued your patient - will grant mercy. They are deeply troubled, and deeply hurt. Truly do I feel for his betrothed."

The blue-scale nods. "Thisss one could not asssk them to temper their resssponssse, but ssuch knowledge may be the only way to be hisss undoing. He wasss mortal onsce, or part of him wasss. He hass fearsss, weaknesssess. You mussst be wissse in your hunt Sseldan. Find your anssswersss before you ssseek him out; or you may find your-ssself in greater danger than you know."

"I do not underestimate my quarry, Zeke." Still the words are gentle. "One weakness do I know, and that is that he may be lured by his appetites. That have I used against him before." Seldan falls into silence, then, staring at the crackling fire. "You have the right of it, that I must learn more ere I seek him out."

-End