Murdering Menel, take two
Log Info
- Title: Murdering Menel, take two
- Emitter: Cryosanthia, Zeke
- Characters: Cryosanthia, Faranmidahn, Zeke, Seldan
- Place: Arcanists' Guild Dungeons
- Time: Saturday, April 04, 2020, 7:28 PM
- Summary: Cryosanthia and Faranmidah rush to the Arcanists' Guild Dungeons, worried that Zeke has taken up Salina's mission to kill Menel. They are delayed by the guard checkpoints but discover that the healer is present. Rushing to Menel's cell, they interrupt the blue-scale sith-makar as he attempts to destroy the enemy, Menel, with his lightning breath. A struggle ensues, Cryo willingly throws herself in the way while Faran attempts to blind Zeke by hugging herself onto his horns and across his eyes. Seldan arrives and saves the day, getting Menel out of the cell while the others fall prisoner to their dark thoughts and attempt to apologize to each other for their actions. Guards are berated, Seldan returns, and they leave. Zeke is able to heal Cryosanthia, so he has not disgraced himself with the Great Dragon, but he also still intends to defeat his enemy.
-=--=--=--=--=-<* Arcanists' Guild Dungeons *>--=--=--=--=
Getting here requires passing a number of checkpoints, scans, and security checks. Once arrived, however, ones senses feel stifled and full, as though the mouth and ears were filled with cotton. This feeling will not leave until one exits.
The dungeons consist of a series of long halls, among which there are many rooms. Here, magic is blocked--thanks to heavy symbols engraved in wrought iron. These iron symbols lay resting into stone, itself carved. Nethercite, that terrifying legend of ages, lays placed into the walls. Guards may be found on regular patrols.
Here, the Guild takes no chances. Here, the most dangerous of mages await trial--or face imprisonment. And lately; willing plague victims. Along one particular hall, a door lies open. Outside it are a set of sith-makar guards. Past that and inside the room is a small table, with cards on it. A few dice. A set of chairs and some bare cots. Buckets labeled SOAPY WATER.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 267 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Faranmidahn 3'3" 35 Lb Halfling Female Albino Lucht woman in black leather armor with a BIG spider Zeke 6'8" 239 Lb Sith-Makar Male A blue-scaled sith-makar in shadowy robes Seldan 5'11" 187 Lb Human Male Red-blonde Eldanar man wearing Eluna's colors and symbol. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Time is of the essence. None is wasted. Well, a little, to ensure Zeke isn't somewhere about the Temple of Daeus, and a little more to send messengers to tell Seldan and Ezil they're needed at the Arcanists' Guild Dungeons. This delay is largely shouting a couple people and throwing some coins to make sure it happens.
Then they run, the white-scaled sith-makar in her robes and the fuzzy lucht knight on her spider.
When Cryosanthia walked in her disgrace from the dungeons up to the temple, her emotions dropped away. A calmness came upon her, as well as a disciplined control. The weight of this suppression, sourced either from within or imposed, shrank her as a being, minimized her expression, limited her, constrained her, bound her. It is what her cihuaa saw, what concerned the paladin the most, what was upsetting for her friends. Cryosanthia, a shadow of herself, a forced mimicry of the fae queen.
At first she is walking swiftly, taking long strides, unwilling to break her posture. This will not be fast enough, no where near, and torrent can easily out-pace her. Cryo starts to move. She's not been able to run in a straight line in a long time, unable to press her limitations. She moves from a swift walk, to a jog, a run, and then she's sprinting. At the core of her being her body gets the message. Something has changed! It needs to move.
The ice surrounding her soul shatters. Cryosanthia is a beast, snorting and charging, pounding through the city's streets, intent on saving her cihuaa and her foundling. To her friend behind her, so familiar with what Cryo looks like when she's dashing about, it's like watching her come back to life. A flower blossoming.
Faranmidahn's little legs can only keep up with Cryosanthia's stride so well, and as the actually comparitively tall lucht emerges in a wheezing gallop from the Temple of Daeus, she withdraws her broach. She wasn't sure she should even hold onto it in her disgrace, but she did, and now it seems that it should only have been so. She gets to the thoroughfare proper as Cryo tears off, turns her mind toward the tenets of the Order, steeling her will, then holds the Purple Rose aloft with a commanding cry of, "MY STEED"
Pedipalps dripping from being in mid dinner, Torrent suddenly appears, ready to serve, to massed cries of dismayed alarm, but because he's a good boy, her asks no questions as the little albino scrambles up into the saddle to rejoin the race against time. The joy of seeing more of her old friend is subsumed in the terrible price they may yet pay. Her mind is praying to Gilead for swiftness, and the wit to find a way to save everyone involved. <unknown>
The route is direct. Where streets won't go and a shortcut might suffice, Cryo takes it. Climbing, leaping off ledges and balconies, hitting the ground rolling and coming up on her feet it's an athletics and acrobatic display intended to shave seconds, turn seconds into minutes. She trusts Torrent to keep up. When people are on the streets, in the way, it becomes a high-speed version of her dance through the Fernwood. Sliding on leg and tail under a cart, twisting past someone, leaping straight over them, everything is an obstacle to be avoided.
She arrives at the Arcanists guild, hurrying to pass checkpoints, insisting on speed, she's been here a day before they must remember her. Whatever excuse will get her further along. When she reaches the checkpoint where her magic items will be stripped, she already has them off and ready.
Hopefully the sith-makar guards are on duty today. Hopefully, hopefully. They would see a sith-makar woman, burning from exertion, hot with a readiness to fight, to defend. Her body language projecting: my nest is threatened; males, assist me; Danger!
"I must see Menel! His life is at risk. Has anyone been to see him today?"
Faranmidahn slips her feet into the special stirrups, clasping the belt taut as she expects the foot traffic to force her along the walls. Up they go, over and across, the knight steering her mount with her unique blend of tugs of the reign and taps with a particular foot at a particular time. She'll probably apologize to someone later, but for now, she does what she can to keep Cryosanthia in sight... because she knows the way. At the guild, the Lucht holds her Mark aloft, "I swear this is of the utmost import! Quickly, now!" and reluctantly forks it over in addition to... her battered old skipball, to no doubt several arched brows.
Unfortunately for Cryosanthia, the guards at the door look at her in deep suspicion as she approaches the doorway in a rush. They are /not/ sith-makar guards. No, they're human, and one of them may be vaguely familiar to her as the guard that had nearly freed her of her cell only the other day. Now however he looks at her shortly as if she insulted his mother. "Hold up there. You're not getting in here. We were told to look out for you again. Seldan's in with him now so he's perfectly safe."
The other guard turns toward Faranmidahn, waving her down and trying to eye her pin. "You can't go riding in here! You'll need to check in all your magical equipment and allow yourself to be searched. Are you with /her/?" The guard points to Cryosanthia in an almost accusionary manner.
"Seldan? Seldan is here, without telling anyone?" Cryosanthia gives Faranmidahn a look, her pupils pulse. She told that guard the paladin might kill Menel the other day. It's inconceivable, but also, so was her attack! If she could, anyone could. Anyone might be susceptible. Her head whips back, "Did you send a guard with him?"
Be calm Cryo, they already doubt you because of your race. She settles her breathing, improves her posture. She's still on fire with her scent but that means nothing to them. With a calmer voice she says, "Yes. I'm her charge."
The lucht glances at Cryo as there's mention that Seldan is there. That may buy them time. She sighs and gives Torrent the 'belly down' command and dismounts, holding the Order Mark and the halfling skipball toward their would be agent of collection, "I'm Faranmidahn Waywalker of the Order of the Purple Rose. She is with me! Quickly,now, your charge could be in danger!" She doesn't make objection to the search, just it's pace.
"Why should he have to tell anyone he's here. Here you know what. I'll go get him." The second guard makes off, heading down into the dungeons to retrieve Seldan for them while the first eyes Cryosanthia seriously. Even while he does this though, he accepts Faranmidahn's mark and her skipball.
"Are you /sure/ that you want to take her down there? Last time she almost killed Menel." He looks over the mark and moves around the table so that he can make a motion with his hands for her to hold her arms out. "Gonna have to search you. AND you. /IF/ you're allowed in." This last is said to Crysoanthia.
Cryosanthia wears only a small bag on a silver necklace around her neck. Her Anygarment sleeves, her white-scale gloves, her ring are off and folded into a bundle. Nothing obscures her scales, gleaming white, some the palest of blues making up patterns. A band down either side of her spine, eyeshadows, speckling on her face and neck. Patterns seen only on ancient sith, front and back. She holds her arms wide, staring intently, "Search away."
Despite her composure, she's on edge, scents of urgency leaking off her, spreading. "Have you seen my cihuaa, Shaman Zeke, Sunguard Zeke? Menel should not be left alone, visited alone."
"My intent is for Mister Menel's safety. I would rather her with me, but I -must- see to him!" Faran replies, holding up her hands, suddenly remembering a small potion vial in another pouch on her swordbelt, which she retrieves for the guard, then goes back to the pose "Please hurry. And do not go near my mount's face, he'll bite you." She, too expects things to get hairy and laments not at least wearing her squire's armour.
"What's a see-hua?" The guard peers at her in confusion then shakes his head. "The only one visiting Menel is Seldan, and the only other person we've let in recently was someone who was going to check on the health of our... guests." The guard pats Faran down and frowns at her potion only to pat her down again - more throughly this time as if she might be trying to sneak something else inside. "I don't know. You might get in faster without her. It'll be up to Seldan if she gets in or not."
Even as he speaks the other guard returns with Seldan in tow, talking animatedly with the paladin who goes on his way rather than staying to chit-chat. "So Seldan says he doesn't trust anyone other than himself down there with Menel. So I guess we'll need another guard to take them down there." The guard in question sighs and turns to go find another guard to fill the duty.
"Seldan!" Cryo says, holding her hand reaching for his back. He vanishes without noticing her. This does not help her paranoid worries. Her pupils are starting to spread wide. A guard going off to look for another guard, there's no need to wait!
"Procedure is satisfied! Faran!" She grabs the little lucht, pulling to lift her, to swing her up, ducking a shoulder to get her sliding on her back. "Hold me!"
Cryo is off! Tearing down the hallway towards Menel's cell.
Faranmidahn isn't used to thinking of potions as magic items. She sighs, "I'm sorry, I've had that forever and I keep forgetting it's the-eep!" All at once, she is a blur of shoulder drapery as Cryo tears off down into the dungeons with her. She clamps onto whatever purchase she can make on the sith's body. She's going to get scolded by so many people.....
Cryosanthia says, "panache already used" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d5: (5): 5 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls acrobatics: (19)+9: 28
"HEY WAIT!" The guard yells after Cryosanthia, following in her wake, but she's faster than he is on the stairs and she looses him around the bend.
What's waiting for them in the prison below is chaos. The prisoners are yelling and banging on the bars, calling out rude things as Cryo and Faran pass by. Several hands reach out to grab them, stop them, but none can find a grasp. Instead the cell of Menel looms ahead and the scent of ozone stinks in the air. The smell of lightning in small places and the smell of blood. It's the first warning.
Because as the pair comes around the edge of the door to Menel's cell their worst fears are confirmed. Zeke stands in the little room, the walls scorched with black as if there'd been a fire in here recently and his teeth burried in Menel's neck. The pale-haired man dangles in Zeke's grasp, his arms fallen to either side.
"AHHH!" Cryosanthia's eyes go all the way black. Panicked female scents flood the room. "Save Him! Don't hurt him! Zeke! NO!"
Get in there. Get in the way. Get him to let go. Don't think about the smell. Don't think about how he hangs so limply. My little one. Cryo dives across the room taking her rider with her to get close and interfere, somehow.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+6: (11)+6: 17
Cryo clears the room and lands, sliding up to the two. She closes her hands around Zeke's snout, gripping his nose and lower jaw, trying to prise them apart. He's got a really strong bite strength and she's got a poor grip. "Zeke, my love, stop! Please!"
It's not going to work, she realizes, the pulling or the speaking. She wouldn't have let go, he's not about to. "Faran do anything! Stop him don't hurt him!"
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls heal: (10)+0: 10 GAME: Faranmidahn casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 2 DC: 14
With so much going on, the ozone smell, familiar from Merek's casual display of power weeks ago, the blood sends her stomach into a pit. As her, as everyone's worst fears come to be true, she hitches her legs as tightly around Cryo's waist as she can and begins her incantation as she extends her other hand Zeke's way, chancing he'll snap at her to prevent her spell from going off.... assuming whatever is driving the sith to such horror is actually ignorant of what the incantation actually means.... She gambles.
With so much going on, the ozone smell, familiar from Merek's casual display of power weeks ago, the blood sends her stomach into a pit. As Faran's, as everyone's worst fears come to be true, she hitches her legs as tightly around Cryo's waist as she can and begins her incantation as she extends her other hand Zeke's way, chancing he'll snap at her to prevent her spell from going off.... assuming whatever is driving the sith to such horror is actually ignorant of what the incantation actually means.... She gambles.
Suddenly and without explanation Zeke opens his mouth. Has some word of Cryosanthia's hit him? Her scent is in the air, but it doesn't help. It only hurts. He smells like a male who /must/ protect the nest at all costs. He smells like war ready to fight. A dangerous scent that can not be stopped or stalled. This man is his foe and he knows it in his deepest bones. The blue-scaled sith's eyes are black, totally focused on the man's scent. The scent of his blood that means he's winning. Killing this foe that /must/ be destroyed. He's not opening his jaw for Cryosanthia. He's opening it for assured victory.
White light hot and fast burns in his throat and pours out of his mouth in a crackle of energy. Spills out in a flash of raw lightning; the most potent weapon his body possesses. /KILL/. Rages the instinct. Kill /now/. The lightning bursts free and rams into his foe and he /ROARS/. Death sings from his jaws. Victory screams in his veins. Even with it he surges forward, dragging the weight of the scent of what he must protect with him. /Nothing/ must remain. He must be /certain/ that the foe is dead.
GAME: Zeke rolls 3d6: (9): 9
Cryo is desperate! Now she knows how Seldan felt. In a fight for life and unwilling to do harm. The paladin's tactics almost worked on her, what did he do? Tried to reach him. Her scents, perhaps they'll sneak through, her body is as worried and overwhelmed as her conscious mind. They mix with the acrid ozone. There's hope. Zeke is a healer, if Menel was dead for sure, he would stop. Hopefully he wouldn't keep going, to ensure Menel is so destroyed he can't come back.
Then he opens his mouth. Horrow dawns in her mind. No! Cryo throws herself between the lightning and her foundling. Her mate's mistaken foe. She'll take this. The lightning hits and arcs across her body, sizzling her scales. Her patterns themselves glowing under the onslaught. Cryosanthia shields Menel with her body accepting everything Zeke throws his way.
GAME: Faranmidahn rolls wisdom: (20)+2: 22
Seeing what's coming, the smell of impending lightning brings Faran's reptilian mind to prominance and she pushes off of Cryo's interception to get -away- and she rolls to a controlled sprawl beside the two sith and looks up into- of course! "I'm sorry." she whispers before rushing forward with hands outstretched, sounding the great halfling cry of, "YOINK!" to remove Zeke's temporary support from play. A crutch maneuver.
The scent of wounded sith-makar only enrages Zeke further, he /trembles/ with it. With the blood-fuled rage that burns inside him. He's never felt so consumed by hate in all his life. And then suddenly... he's falling. Tumbling forwards without the much-needed support on his left side. It makes no sense! It must be the enemy! He thrashes on the ground, crawling. One claw is all he needs to drag himself forward towards his foe. To the still body of the man who /must/ die. A low growl eeks out from around the edges of his maw and spills out along the floor. Almost there! A few more inches and he'll have the meat between his teeth and he can end this once and for all...
Cryosanthia squirms, leveraging her tail to move herself into Zeke's way, position herself so he can't attack Menel. Take his attack on her body if she must. Be so close she fills his vision to his hated target won't be seen. It won't be enough, she has to reach him emotionally, shock him. She says the most hurtful things she can think of.
"Zeke! There was one person in the Fernwood who have stopped me going. You! You! If you'd said Cryo, No! I would have stayed for you. Your mother did this! Your mother did this when you were born. She saw your body and tore at you, it broke her mind! Zeke you won't forgive yourself. I know. You'll know it wasn't HER it was You. Everyone might forgive you but you'll never forgive yourself, not if you do this. You'll wish you were dead. Close your eyes Zeke. Stop! Please! Stop for my sake and your soul!"
Cryosanthia says, "and grapple to grab his claw" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+6: (4)+6: 10
Faranmidahn sees Cryo struggling to get his hand, realizing she's trying to block his sight, she pounces on his head, ignoring the pain that results as her forsaken armour might have abated the sharp edges her body encounters, but she clings for dear life, hers, Cryo's, Zeke's, Menel's, trying to make herself the snuggest, fluffiest warmest blindfold sithkind has ever experienced as she screams, "GUARDS! Bring HEALERS!"
Zeke is down, down and he can not /get/ to the foe! A female is in the way. The scent of her anxiety and fear causes him to hesitate, not a lot but a little. The anger tells him that she's afraid because of the /enemy/ but her words... Her words cut through his anger like a hot knife through butter. This is his fault. She's afraid because of /him/. Her words remind him that he's broken. That he broke his nest-mother. That she was taken because he wasn't there to protect her.
He's being held down! Fear instantly replaces anger like fire becoming smoke. That's all it takes to have him falling apart. "Thissss one triesss to be good! Triessss! Pleasssse. Pleassssse." He can not cry but he can let out a low moan of terror. There's pain to follow. Pain in the sharpness of those words cutting into his soul and more to follow his instincts /know/. It's her right. She /should/ hurt him.
Ozone. Burnt flesh. Seared Scales. Blood. The high reek of sith at emotional extremes and the sounds of battle. Words, frantic, difficult to make out. Cryo wishing a death. Faranmidah, her voice high and frantic, calling for guards and a healer.
Something has gone terribly wrong.
The sight is just as worse. The cell is black with electrical scarring. Cryosanthia, Zeke, Faranmidahn are entangled, struggling. The body of Menel lies limp near them, the white-scale closest, facing her mate. The lucht is wrapped around his head, impalin herself on his horns, blinding Zeke with her body.
What they get isn't multiple guards. Only one set of booted feet comes at the run, footsteps familiar, but that Seldan comes in, in full gear and with weapons, tells a chilling tale of what isn't upstairs. "What in-MENEL!" he fairly bellows, but with flat dread in his voice, swallowing hard. "Zeke, Cryosanthia, what in the nine flaming Hells is the meaning of this?" Not a one of you has ever heard the paladin swear, but he does now as he lunges for the struggle, seeking to break it up and push the sith-makar to the floor.
GAME: Seldan rolls knowledge/arcana: (9)+11: 20
Cryosanthia is wriggling, attempting to get to her feet, grab her mate, get him up. This is ambitious and she's not accomplishing it. When Seldan enters her head whips frantically to look at him. Her eyes are black. She spares him barely a glance before she's focused on Zeke again. "Seldan! Save him! Don't Hurt Him! We have to get him out of here! I can't. I can't. Zeke please! Stop. Stop!"
Chancing a hazy look through her haystack or conflict-tousseled locks and past her shoulder, Faran cries, "Seldan! Menel's hurt bad, but I don't dare let go!" her voice desperate, eyes wet. Zeke will have some wet spots, "Please!"
Zeke... if he was ever a threat doesn't seem to be one now. He's cowering on the floor under Faranmidahn's weight, moaning low in his throat. Pathetically begging. "Pleasssse. Pleassssse." He whimpers, his cruch laying forsaken on the floor somewhere nearby but too far away to help him. Faranmidahn isn't heavy. If he really wanted to, he could probably have moved her easily, but the sith is terrified of being touched and he's /covered/. Weighed down by the weight and waiting for the female he smells to hurt him.
"Faranmidahn, get off of him! He cannot abide being touched!" There are tears and black fury hiding in Seldan's words as he draws back from the sith, a thing that may or may not be audible to all. He pauses, hovering undecided, then shoots a quick look at Menel, and he swallows hard. "None of you move," he decides finally, changing course and darting for the downed Menel, fingers searching desperately for a pulse.
GAME: Seldan rolls heal: (19)+10: 29
Cryosanthia doesn't move, much. She warbles at her mate, it's a little like her alarm sound but more musical and quieter. Come to me. She's anxious, Menel is wounded, her mate is in pain, everything is out of control. She can smell his fear of her, and that cuts deep. She never wants to smell his fear, hurt him. There's only so much comfort she can project under these circumstances. She would die for her nestling, she will fight for her mate. She moves closer, so he can scent her, so she can hold onto Faran and hold Zeke vicariously, the touch would terrorize him more. "Focus on me Zeke. Don't think. I'm here. On me."
She's panting heavy, unaware of what Seldan discovers behind her back. She can only hope. "Get Menel to where you can heal him. Lock us in Seldan! This respite may not last. I'll explain later."
Faranmidahn shuts her eyes, "I'm sorry!" she whispers tightly, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just a little longer...!" Seldan's instruction, and the reasons for same spike her to the core as some of their recent interactions come to an awful new bearing. She swallows back the bile of her guilt, bites back the urge to yield under the maelstrom and adds, "Get him clear!" She feels Cryo's mass agaisnt her, comforting in that she understands what's going on and... well can help her figure out how to make this up to the blue sith later.
There's absolutely nothing that Zeke can do. Someone is talking. A friend. He has a brief hope that someone will aid him but he's trapped in darkness and the scent of anxious, fearful female. He is trapped by the memory of his nest-mother. Her constant stink of fear whenever she saw him. Her anger. The fact that he could never do anything to stop it. He feels like a hatchling again. Small and weak and useless. /Focus on me/. He tries but all he smells is anxiety. It's in her voice even as she speaks. "Pleassssssse. Thissss one will be good." A whimper. A child's plea. How could he ever think he could escape the past?
Seldan almost crumples in relief at whatever it is he finds. Without a word, he picks up Menel and a wooden box on the table in the room, and strides from the room, his footfalls angry and upset both. It's a strain to get both, and he'll feel it later, but he can do it and do it he does, kicking the jail cell door shut behind him with an ominous *slam*. "Hold on, Menel. Stay with me. Stay with me," can be heard, floating back down the stone hallway.
Cryo hears that inner laughter again, the heartless mocking of the sith-fae. You need to be control your emotions and you can't, you're worthless. The cold mirth cutting through her. It awakens something deeper in her, more bestial and powerful. You're better than this. Cryosanthia finds her will, forces everything down. She roars her frustration at close range across Faranmidan and Zeke as Seldan makes it through the door. I'm in control!
Fully exhaled, her next breath is controlled and reserved. Her scent is strong, and calm. I am a powerful female, you are protected. She is cold, but in a comforting way. Like fat snow flurries falling and blanketing everything in an insulating layer. Hiding all the flaws, covering all the details and distress. A pure landscape, silent and serene.
"I love you Zeke. I will never hurt you. I understand what is happening. You are safe with me. You are my cihuaa. You are protected."
Faranmidahn swallows her heart and says gently, "I'm sorry, Zeke.... I'm letting go n-" and the rest is drowned out in the spine rattling roar that sounds over her head. Something tiny and primordial clenches her body for a moment, seeking to burrow underground to hide from the sound it knows. Though rattled, yet the Lucht's mind disconnects itself from the influence and starts to extricate herself from the tangle of limbs, leaving even greater rents in her garments dotted in red from the various abrasions of her skin, beneath. A tiny foot is set flat upon the floor, then the other and their owner ears still ringing, realizes that she's done enough damage, and that this moment is for the mates to work out. Trapped in the same cell, ears at least temporarily useless, the disgraced Knight suffles toward the bars to stare forelornly beyond.
The sound of pent-up frustration makes Zeke sink further into despair, lost until the scent of fear suddenly evaporates. Gone like dust on the wind. In it's place is calm and.... he's free. The burden of weight is lifted from him and his tail lifts with his hope. Light returns to his world, dim, but there and he can see the one who calls him /cihuaa/.
Suddenly he is rushed with the memory of everything that has happened in the last few moments. The attack on Menel, his lightning striking the female. Faranmidahn's despirate attempt to stop him. His eyes fall to where Menel last lay and he shudders; his tail falls and shame clouds his scent. "Thissss one isss not worthy." They are locked together. Trapped by Seldan's need to keep Menel safe from him. From the blood-thirsty beast that he had become. Cryosathia's accusations ring in his ears and he slides, folding his leg under him and sitting on the floor. "You were right. Thisss one will never be worthy... of anything."
The echoes of Seldan's footfalls have faded down the corridor, only dimly heard now. Who knows when he will return to release them -- or who will?
GAME: Seldan rolls will: (17)+22: 39
It would be laughable if Cryo tried this a week ago, when she was younger. Some things are only possible with age, a certain gravitas, life experiences, tragedies and loss. While she had suffered many of those early, time was needed to heal the wounds and make her stronger. Time she got in the tower. It changed her in fundamental ways, and she fully inhabits herself. With her heavy head of horns, her mature lines and build, her experience of motherhood, even if it be adoptive, she learned patience and pain. She learned to sooth an injury. Her scents are calming, her voice is soft, her tones comforting. Poor Faranmidahn might barely be able to hear her.
"Zeke. Zeke, you are worthy, you are strong, you are beautiful. Don't think, listen to me, look at me. It will be fine, it will be fine. I understand what happened. I'll explain soon. Here, get on the bed, breathe, smell me."
She stares, unblinking into his eyes, as if that might hypnotize him. To keep him from looking around, seeing... the disaster.
Faranmidahn can't hear much of anything, but she's resolved to be... ok with that for now. They need privacy more than the would ever need her, right not. She slips her hands through the bars loosely hugging them as her forehead rests offset to the center bar. She sighs, wondering how things could be set to right. Her arms withdraw and there is the rustle of leather upon silk before her Traveller's knife, sheath and all, lands upon the stone floor of the hall. A couple of clicks and the scabbard of her longsword clacks to the stones beyond in turn.
Rather than coming closer though, Zeke backs away. He won't meet Cryosanthia's eyes, refuses to. He can smell the lightning in the air, on the walls. The singed scent of her flesh still fresh. He doesn't stop backing away until he hits the bars beside Faran and curls there away from her. His cruch lays in the center of the room where it had fallen; untouched. "Thissss one ssssmellssss. Thisss one sssmellsss your fear, your hurt. Thisss one causssed it. Thisss one harmed you. Harmed sssso many innocent today. Thissss one nearly..." Killed. He could still /taste/ Menel on his tongue. He can't get rid of it. "Ssstay away. Thisss one will only bring harm."
From above, Seldan's voice in a pain-lashed bellow echoes down the hall, clearly audible even here. "AND WHERE WERE THE LOT OF YOU? DID I NOT WARN YOU THAT THERE MIGHT BE ANOTHER ATTEMPT? YOU THRICE-BLASTED _FOOLS_ DEEMED HIM, AND YOU, SAFE? AGAIN MUST I RESCUE A FRIEND AND AN INNOCENT MAN BECAUSE THE LOT OF YOU CANNOT BE _ARSED_ TO DO YOUR _JOBS_?! I _WARNED_ YOU, NOT AN HOUR PAST! HOW MANY MORE PEOPLE MUST SUFFER BEFORE YOU DECIDE THAT I MIGHT KNOW WHEREOF I SPEAK AND THAT I DO NOT WEAR MY ARSE FOR A HELMET?" The paladin is all but screaming now, but somehow, it is only screaming. How it is not more is unclear.
There is a more muffle voice down the hall, but Seldan cuts in again, loud and clear, his tones near breaking. "SPARE ME YOUR SNIVELING! CLEARLY I CANNOT TRUST YOU WITH HIS SAFETY, OR WITH MINE!"
"Ssssmell me. Ssssmell my care. Ssssmell my ssstrength. Ssssmell forgivenessss. Ssssmell love. Thissss one knowssss, thissss one did the ssssame. Thissss one wasss sssoo pained ssshee let you take thisss curssse. Thisss sicknesss of the mind. It wassss you and not you. Thissss one knowss. Ssshee had to be stopped alsssso." Cryosanthia approaches, carefully, drawing out her words and slowing down her diction. Stepping softly like falling snow. She remains focused on him, coming as close as she can. She carefully retrieves his crutch in passing, lays it close to him. She brushes down her charred scales, "thessse will heal, it will passs to memorieess. You are sssafe. My cihuaa, come to me."
Cryo warbles at Zeke again, her comforting musk filling the air.
Her head cocks as she overhears things down the hall and is unable to resist quipping, "Someone is having a bad day."
The incessant 'eeeeeeeee' starts to fade in time for 'Thrice-blasted' and Faran's head turns that way, chin lifting upward, her voice an absent, "I need to yell like that." in response to Cryo's remark. She steps back from the bars and turns, approaching the duo on light feet before she takes a knee... sets the other beside it and rests her hands upon them, "Zeke... I have done you a lot of... disservice lately. In many ways, but most recently... by touching you so, and so often." She sets her palms to the floor and bows her head almost that far, "I apologize, and.. humbly beg your forgiveness."
Zeke closes his eyes. It is impossible to scent Cryosanthia and not smell everything else. He can't ignore it any longer. He winces at the sound of Seldan's raw anger above them. "Ssseldan ssshould not blame them. Thisss one isss to blame. Thisss one." What can he say to Cryosanthia? What except more denials. More words that she can not seem to hear. She warbles for him but he swallows his response like he might choke on it. It's another knife in his throat.
What he expects even less however, is Faranmidahn. Zeke's eyes fly open at the sound of her begging for forgivness and he stares at her. "You... you helped ssstop thisss one. Do not asssk forgivnesss for /that/. Thisss one owesss you a great debt for keeping thisss one from doing more harm. Thisss one issss... weak. You usssed sssuch wisssely againsst thisss one." He bows his head to her, his green eyes full of pain. "Thisss one can not asssk forgivnesss for the need of you to do thesse thingsss; thiss one doesss not dessserve sssuch, but thisss one isss grateful nonethelesssss."
It does not seem to matter to Seldan whose fault it is, as he continues to unleash hell's own fury at the sputtering guards up above. He seems utterly unaware of the words said below. "They are locked in his cell for the moment. I know you cannot keep them, I do not give an otyugh's hairy arsehole _what_ you do, so long as they do not see or scent _him_, do you understand?" The words are interspersed with silence, and then he falls silent entirely upstairs.
Cryo sits and settles with her legs folded underneath, her hands on her knees, her tail out behind. She leans so her head is at Zeke's level, but gives him distance. He is listening to the little knight, so inspiring in her bravery and willingness to take on challenges so much larger than herself. The white-scaled sith-makar owes her a lot as well, things she may never be able to explain or repay.
Cryosanthia again attempts to get through. "This one knowsss, Zeke, the feelingsss. This one felt the painsss of attacking her nessstling. Thiss one failed you, agreeing when you sssaid you would take it away. Thiss one should not have, thisss one should have been sstronger. Ssssmarter. Thisss one knowsss and you need to alssso, that it isss not you. It issss She. Her manipulationsss. Her corruptionsss. You acted but you ssshould not be blamed."
Faranmidahn raises her head and, "You deserve the respect of your boundries, Zeke. I... it isn't my way, but you're a dear friend. You've been hurt an' need space. I'll honor them, until you let me know it's ok." She swallows and looks to Cryosanthia, "She has a point... Sometimes forces... forces beyond us twist our minds and we can't always escape, not on our own." she flashes a guilty smile to the white sith, then turns her eyes back to the blue one, "Sally's influences seized your volition, leaving you victim and instrument." She lays a hand on her head, "I understand, though the villain was different. As with Cryosanthia, neither of the sins against Mister Menel are for you." She blinks toward the ceiling, "He's really letting them have it...."
Zeke... is at a loss for words. Both for Cryosanthia and Faranmidahn. Instead he focuses for a moment on Seldan's words echoing down onto them and shakes his head again. "Thisss one..." He sighs. What can he say? They don't understand, but he knows that Seldan might. Seldan so full of anger that Menel was harmed again. He had taken an oath a long time ago, to do no harm. To treat the sick. To fight for the weak. Today... He had failed in everything utterly. "There are not wordssss for what thiss one hasss done. Even if it wassss sssomeone elssse acting through thiss one... how can thisss one be trussted again? It can not be ssso."
Silence reigns from above, at least for the moment. How long that will last is unclear.
"Thessse are my fearrsss cihuaa. Thisss one isss not to be trusssted too." Cryosanthia says, rising from her knees and moving around Faran to try the door. The cell stinks, it drives home, hard, on an instinctive level what happened here. The scents pull at wounds inside Cryo as well. Everything Zeke says, feels, and did, she broke the trail for them. They are her sins as well. She fiddles with the lock, sticking her fingernail in, but there's no hope she'll pop the thing. Her head is also too wide and interesting to fit through the bars. Her snout will have to do, hopefully her voice will carry.
"SELDAN. WE NEED YOU! I CAN'T CALM ZEKE IN HERE. ANY OTHER CELL BUT THIS ONE. COME MOVE US!"
"Soon my cihuaa, we can talk and maybe someone, Seldan, will hear." Cryo's confidence is wavering, but she keeps herself determined.
Faranmidahn knows a thing or two about breaking an oath. Likewise outside of her control, but she's been flogging herself with it since Cryosanthia staggered back into the Fernwood. The little knight scourged with lashes of choices made, of choices unknowingly stolen, watches the palescale so grievously wounded by her betrayal, fiddle with the lock and curses herself again as now the power of Salina's fel influence has scatted shards of misery through another of her dear friends. "The same way... the same way you... you trust -me-." she sighs, looking to the rethawed Cryosanthia again, then to Zeke, "After my every failing... you still trust me. You're still kind to me. When you expected your spell to end badly, you both... in very different ways, -trusted- me to help make things right. I'd sooner sell Torrent than not show you the same... depths of heart you've both shown me."
Zeke closes his eyes again, wrapping his condemnation around himself like a blanket. "Thisss one isss fine." He mutters to Cryosanthia, trying to calm her, but his heart is broken. It is shattered among the shards of his honor. He looks at Faranmidahn. "Thisss one wassss not there Faranmidahn. Thisss one can not ssspeak asss to your actionsss. Only that thisss one hasss never ssseen you act dissshonorably." He sighs and looks away. Looks out past Cryosanthia toward where there's a bloody puddle on the floor. The stains of lightning on the walls. "What hasss thisss one done?" It's a moan.
In the end, it is some minutes before anyone returns, and there is nothing further from Seldan audible down here. When someone does finally return, it is Seldan, once again divested of all but shirt, trousers, boots, and holy symbol, and accompanied by a guardsman. His skin, now clearly seen in slightly calmer conditions, is curiously mottled between alabaster-fair and stark, matte-black, like patchwork. He seems to ignore it, though, still breathing heavily as a thoroughly-chastened looking guardsman returns with a ring of keys.
Cryosanthia has moved over to sit in front of Zeke again, in the hopes that her presence, visually, audibly, olfactory, helps somehow. She sits kneeling, tail flat, watching him. Her breathing is regular and strong and she does her best to seem more secure and in control than she feels. Her mate needs her now.
She looks up at the paladin and the guard when they arrive. Her face is expressionless, calm. Her eyes, once again, emotionless gems with a thin black slash of a pupil. No worry in her voice, that might make things worse. This cell is already full of great distractions. "I was distraught, Zeke cast something, Affirm Afflication, and took whatever was in my mind to his. I didn't realize, I wouldn't have. Something happened, Faran saw, there was something in the magic auras, but it was the Fernwood all over again. Her eyes weren't wise enough, and no one with wiser would look. Zeke left with the healers, told us he was fine..."
She has a harder time holding the paladin's gaze as she admits, "I... remembered something I planned... while I was afflicted... of coming here alone... we came as fast as we could..."
Faranmidahn is still on her knees in front of Zeke with her hair and fetlocks matted in places with the aftermath of the previous violence. She smiles sadly, "But I was..." she says in a weak murmur. Zeke's lamentations prompt her to start to reach forward before her hand suddenly yanks back as if the air around him was hot, "Zeke, have you studied the ways a mind could be... directed without magic? Would there perhaps be a sage of such a thing? They may have a way to abolish this... calamity." She looks out to the world beyond as the paladin returns with a guard and sighs before Cryosanthia settles near her. A pale hand settles upon pale scales and she nods, turning again to Seldan, uncertain what to say that would go beyond what was said and so she nods, "As she says."
Zeke sits curled in the corner, eyes lowered again. He can smell Seldan, knows that the other is there but doesn't look. He hasn't the heart to do anything. Cryosanthia speaks of the things that happened and the shame washes over him again. The shame of knowing that he did this thing. That he betrayed everyone to kill a man that didn't deserve to die. "They were not quick enough to ssstop thisss one from trying to kill your friend. Thisss one... there are no wordsss Ssseldan." His tone is filled with the sadness he feels, the pain that this act has inflicted upon him. He shakes his head at Faranmidahan, rolls his one shoulder and looks at the cell with a certain feeling of inevitablity. "Do not blame either. Thisss one isss the causssse."
GAME: Seldan rolls will: (12)+22: 34
The guardsman flatly -stares- around the room, at the shattered people, at the damage wrought, and hesitates before unlocking the door. Seldan, meanwhile, takes in the three of the, takes in the words, and places an arm on the cold stone wall, leaning his forehead into it, every line of him shaking, but with several deep breaths, seems to re-gather himself enough to shake his head. "No. It is Her. She is responsible, for all of this." The words are carefully chosen, but somehow, somehow, the man is mastering himself once more, and when he finally turns to look up at them again, his bearing is reserved, but there is no hint of the blind fury they heard echoing down the hall not five minutes ago. "Sunguard. You did as you thought best, to aid her. Menel is safe, and well. He will not return here, to this cell, but he is again safe."
"I'm a little on the done side with this cell too." Cryosanthia says, not even making the connection with her scorched scales. She exhales and lowers her head, shaking it from side to side slowly. "Lock us up, away from here. Let me stay with my cihuaa. He said he would not allow what he has to pass from his mind, but that spell must be repeated, watched to be understood what is moved, so it can be broken. Faran can mediate for us, bring us things. She listened, she understood. She guessed correctly and she didn't leave me when I needed her. Zeke should not have bourne this alone, the healing task. Whether it was She or me, I did not seem as dangerous as I was."
"I can only hope to one day earn back the trust and good will. I wish I could say it was all Her, I have a responsibility somewhere, for something, and I know without doubt, how Zeke feels and how deep in despair he is."
Faranmidahn sighs and shakes her head, pushing to her feet as she opens her mouth, drawing breath to clarify for Zeke how when it comes down to it, after Sally's oppurtunism, of course, it's rightfully her fault, when Seldan's words cut into the room. Then Cryosanthia speaks, and the Lucht regards her, heartened if still weighed down be the rest, "You knew the effect the affliction had on you, and recognized it in Zeke after the spell." She shakes her head, "I -should- have gone with you." She should have tried harder with the slime. She should have done a lot of things it seems, but, she approaches Seldan, "I would attend them for their needs, Sir." A glance to the two sith, a curse that such a beautiful bond must be sullied in such a way, then to the paladin again, "A more... proper analysis of the mechanism within the slimes much be done as well, with more experienced magecraft, though I will submit myself to drawing out the creature."
As if waiting for the moment of freedom Zeke is shoving himself up the wall. It's an awkward pose, but Zeke has long experiance with having only one leg to hold himself up. He has his cruch, gathered from the floor where Cryosanthia left it in place under his left shoulder. He does not move out of the cell though. Instead he stands there. Ignores Cryosanthia's words, her solutions, because they're tempered in reasons that can not be reason enough. "You are wrong Ssseldan. He isss not ssafe. Thisss one... Thisss one..." He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, stands harshly. "Thisss one will sseek him out and kill him. Thisss one can /sssmell/ him. You mussst lend thisss one the ussse of your blade before thisss one sshedsss any more innocent blood."
It took every ounce of his will to say the words. To admit that in the depths of his mind that he was still planning to kill Menel. Saying it out loud felt like a betrayal somehow. Menel was his /enemy/. He knew it... Didn't he? A low sound vibrated in his throat and he held himself without looking at anyone but the warrior he hoped would understand.
"None of us are safe, so long as She lives." A jolt of the anger Seldan had exposed earlier lashes through his words, even as he looks between the three of them. "Faranmidahn, I shall look for you, if that is your wish. The means of doing such things are things that she has learned, through experimentation on people, and I am something of a student of the arcane, myself. Cryosanthia, I have a great many questions for you, but they will keep. This is more important."
"Sunguard, I cannot grant you that, for I have it not here with me, and I doubt that Tisa and Fallia would cooperate did I try. Nor would I, for such granting is not my right. You answer to another, and it is their forgiveness, their grace, you must seek, above all others." There is real compassion, even pain, there. "If you end your life, what then? Does She win? Will all of the good that you have done, for me and for others, perish from Ea? No, we must find and unmake what has been wrought, and we begin with taking you from his scent. It is Her that I will see thrown down for this, but for now ... come. All of you. Let us leave this place, and when we reach the checkpoint, I will ask a thing of you, Sunguard."
"I'll carry you." Cryosanthia holds her hand down to Faran, unsure what else to say. Aware how deeply distressed the little knight is that she didn't come along to the tower, even though she harbours no blame towards her. Her heart aches and she wishes she could fix the lucht's broken oath, broken spirit. A ride seems a poor consolation, but in truth the sith-makar wants to feel her weight. She wants to carry Zeke, to support him, protect him on the way out but knows this is not possible. A substitute might soothe. Her eyes are on Zeke when she says, "Hold me, tight. Don't let go."
She moves, through the door, ready to carry, ready to follow, ready to support her mate if he asks. She watches, he will walk slowly, awkwardly, well practiced but with difficulty. It makes her want to protect Zeke more. She answers the paladin absently, "Of course Seldan, anything you want to ask. Zeke will... Zeke will..." her voice trails off.
Faranmidahn looks to Zeke as he speaks anew sorrowful and grim. She can't blame him. She had the same impulse, deep in the dark, but... she nods. "Naught for us but to set our sins to right." she says softly, but she looks to the paladin briefly, expression torn for a moment. A moment, two, then the Lucht steps out of the cell to collect her weapons and replace them upon her person, then to Seldan, "I so wish it, Sir." She at first moves back to join the sith, trying to consider how to be helpful, though she is somewhat surprised by Cryo's offer. Indecision again, but, Cryo has been fond of having her closer than merely at hand as a comfort, and so she gives a little smile and a nod.
Though Seldan is right in his words, the denial fills Zeke with quite dread and a sense of fatality. He can not answer the man's questions with the answers he knows he should. That of course they can not let this foul mistress win. He has become a pawn and it pains him more than words can say or his scent could hope to express. "Of courssse." Is all he can manage, limping along after them all like a half-forgotten sorrow. He can't look at Cryosanthia, it's too hard for him right now. He can still remember her fear-scent, can still /smell/ it as they leave the cells behind them and begin the long trek upwards. She promises for him, and he knows he will. "Maksur." He whispers, correcting her use of his name. He no longer feels like Zeke. Not he who had been cowering on the floor in fear. Not he who had nearly slain an innocent man. Not he; hobbling up the stairs without the limbs once gifted to him by the Dragonfather. He is shorn of himself.
When they finally arrive at the top, he is internally a shell of himself, stairing at the limbs offered to him by the guard. The sight of them is unbearable. They shine and sparkle, full of radiance and beauty that he had spent a lifetime hiding away. He had never been deserving of them. Now more than ever this is true. Dull-eyed he swallows and looks at Seldan.
Cryo's scent flares in anger. That name! That hated name! She almost snaps at Zeke, to chastize, as if she could bite and tear it from his vocabulary. She feels the eyes of a dragon upon her, the weight of her scales, the blanket of snow. You are better than this.
She starts to sing, something soft and soothing, a lullaby with half remembered words. Sung perhaps to Menel, or to herself so long ago when she was small and helpless. Carrying Faran, the lucht can feel it through her. A song to let her youngling know there is peace in the nest, she will protect, all will be well. She is the most fearsome thing in the night and the morning will come soon with an explosion of light and promise. Do not worry, I am here.
Seldan trails the others up to the checkpoint, and looks around to ensure that it is actually populated. When they all reach it, Seldan does not immediately take his box of clothing, and frowns as Zeke stares at the prosthetic limbs. "Zeke? Perhaps you would be so good as to heal Cryosanthia." By now, he speaks gently, still under full, tight control of himself. He will absently accept the box containing his gear, but he watches the sith-makar closely.
Astride the white sith, Faran has a slightly awkward look on her face as she regards the guards once more. It's occaisionally embarassing to be snatched so readily from one's feet. Ahem, but, from her vantage, she looks to see that Torrent remains untroubled, ready to unleash a stern, if higher tone tongue lashing if he wasn't. Zeke's rechristening is lost in translation as she isn't fluent in their tongue. After all, she curses in her mother tongue, or slips into it when she's upset.... or casting, but, still. The sudden song beneath her brings her eyebrows high, but, her expressions softens and she looks ruefully at her blue friend, wanting to reach out to him her own way, to reassure him that he was still loved, still had worth..... but she promised and her way is not his. She aches for him, but she abides.
The scent of anger makes Zeke flinch perceptively. He can not helpt the pulse of fear that goes through him after what happened down below in the cells. It's too close a memory. He doesn't move away though, ready to accept whatever punishment comes his way. Seldan's words make his stomach drop, and his eyes fall once more to the limbs he doesn't quite have the strength to accept back. How can he deserve them? Green eyes slide toward Cryosanthia and he can not unsee the damage that he has done to her. He had meant the strike for his hated foe and yet had struck her instead. Healing her seems an impossible task, but he can not leave her injured.
As so many times before he reaches inside himself, seeks the warmth and radiance of the Dragonfather that he harbors inside expecting to find... nothing. To find himself utterly forlorn, but the warmth is still there waiting to be freed. A pulse of healing emits from him like breathing and he too is filled with it. The Dragonfather blesses him as He has so many times before. It's like a small, but important weight is lifted from him, knowing that his God is still with him. That nothing he has done has taken the light of the Dragonfather from him. He thrums with the small edge of hope it gives him and the knowledge that Cryosathia is healed. Every crack in her scales. Every wound caused by his failure.
Only the strength of will and light inside him keeps him upright at the knowledge. He lays a claw on the limbs that are still /his/ and blinks. Wags his tail slowly; uncertainly. "Thank you Ssseldan." He looks at the paladin. "How did you know?"
Cryo reaches for her things, so hastily shoved over to the guards in her rush to get down into the cells. Her sleeves first, a moment, and she is clothed. Then her ring, then the gloves. She is casting almost as soon as they are on and going through the motions of wiping down her scent, then she turns them on Zeke to wash away the cell. Finally Faran is wiped down as she rides on her back. She looks at Seldan, and hesitates, it seems imprudent and she lets her hands hang at her sides as the glow fades from the symbols on her gloves.
Zeke's healing washes over her, the warmth filling her, spreading through and removing the pain the way she removed scent. The Dragonfather's blessing giving her the security she wishes she could provide. She resumes her quiet lullaby, singing of hope. Seldan lets out a breath he had not realized he was holding, as Cryosanthia's scales mend themselves, and actually smiles, if wanly. "There was a time ... not so very long ago ... when few save She stood with me. Ever did it lend me strength, and ever was Her face enough. I ... had hoped that it would be the same for you." The smile fades, and quickly he begins to take his own gear from the box and don it, not looking at anyone. He places last a red velvet hat, which promptly vanishes into the thin silver headband, the mottled and patchy look of his skin promptly vanishing into the rightful northern-fair coloring - and nothing else changes.
He relaxes visibly once that is done, and he turns to the others, waiting for Zeke to be ready.
Faranmidahn looks abashed as she realizes the ruin of her clothing and with the usual gestures and hasty murmuring in her native tongue, the rents in her silk raiments are returns to their original, if still rough looking condition, "Thank you, Cryo." she says softly. She spends a moment to hug Cryosanthia about the head as her scales are healed before making her way down over a shoulder to the table to collect her items as Seldan does his and she frowns thoughtfully with his shift, questions, rather obvious ones in her eyes, but a furtive glance about the chamber assures as a place to ask such things, or a time, this is neither, a revelation also earmarked in her eyes. She turns to Zeke, her box with a potion, her Order mark and... a beaten up looking skipball, in her hand, "The Father knows your heart, my friend." That said, the stows the ball, the potion and... stares at the Purple Rose for some time before she takes it up with a solemn expression, but hops down from the table with it in her hands.
It takes... a few moments for Zeke to retrieve and replace his prostetic limbs. One does not simply do such things after all, and it is not easily done either with only one hand to do it with. Yet Zeke has long years of practice in doing so, even if he does not remove said limbs very often; he knows /how/. With his task finally complete he nods to the others. This act too makes him feel more himself. He is Zeke once more, on uncertain footing, but...
The blue-scaled sith looks toward the entrance to the Arcanist's Dungeon, staring at it for a long moment before he shakes himself and turns away. "You are right Faranmidahn. Every inssstinct sssaysss one thing, but the heart knowsss the truth." He moves closer to her for a moment. "Jussst ass thisss one knowss that yoursss isss true, or you would not sseek to uplift thossse in need of sssuch."
His movement brings him to Cryosanthia's side, to follow her. Her song is one of hope, but not one he knows. Zeke has no words for these people. These friends of his whom guide him. Every instinct tells him to turn back.
Which makes every step forward, a victory.
