Price of Progress

It has been a couple weeks since Elleandra came to Alexandria, having taken shelter in the forest out past Wilderness Pointe. A lot has changed in her while she was away. Sorcerous magic has been left behind forever, replaced with the touch of the divine. And though as a Druid she will never call a city her proper home, it doesn't bother her to come here. It is simply another kind of terrain, with its own rules. But she has not come here for amusement, she has a purpose. Guided by Seldan's advice, she seeks Zeke out, and that is how she comes to be here, in the Temple of the Sun Lord.

It doesn't take long, once in the temple of Daeus, to get directions to Zeke. It seems he's a common figure here, which is perhaps not surprising given that as it turns out - Zeke is a servant of that diety himself. He is also immistakably sith. The blue-scaled sith moves from sick-bed to sick-bed with slow careful ease, talking to patients who have come here for healing and to his fellow priests in a calm moderated tone that gives him the impression of being a mountain. A permanant fixture which while it moves in this case, does so slowly.

Part of that slowness is born it seems from the crystal limbs that Zeke has on his left side. They glimmer in the lighting of the temple, beautiful and unique. The blue-scaled sith moves them with an ease of long practice, that suggests that they have been a part of his life for a very long time. He wears no cloak today that might cover them. Instead he has the limbs bare to the wondering eyes of those that don't know better than to not look.

Elleandra waits politely for a natural break in Zeke's work. Though fire lays strong in her spirit, the patience of the earth dwells in her bones. When the time is right, she greets Zeke with a deep curtsey, "Might I impose on you a moment, sir?" She rises slowly, her eyes meeting the Sith-Makar's evenly.

Zeke, is clearly surprised to be addressed by her, initially looking around to see if there might be anyone else around to whom she might be speaking. Upon realizing that she must mean him however he seems to actually consider her request before relenting and offering her a nod. "Come thisss way." He leads her a few steps away from the person that he had just been speaking to, to offer both them and her privacy and then with that done he turns his green eyes downward. "Thisss one isss at your ssservisce. How may thisss one asssissst you?"

Elleandra follows with steady strides, her mind focused on her task. Even though they might be out of ear shot, she does not speak carelessly, but keeps her words just loud enough for Zeke to hear. "A friend of mine has told me that you may be of assistance in purifying the city's water supply. This task has been laid at my feet, and I seek those who share this concern. Can you tell me about the cisterns? I would like to know where they are, how they are built, and how large they are."

The blue-scaled sith blinks once at the subject matter and looks around. "Thisss one thinkssss... that perhapsss here isss not a good plasce for thisss talk." He motions for her to follow him again, this time deeper, much deeper into the temple where they will not be disturbed. Indeed he leads her to a rest-station for the priests. A quiet area with a ready tea pot which he uses to pour out some tea for himself and also for her. He lays hers on the small table and motions for her to take a seat before settling slowly down onto a stool himself.

"Thisss one would be happy to be of asssisstance. Thisss one hasss mapss..." Zeke sets aside his tea cup tempoararily to reach into his robes with his right claw and draw out a small bundle of scrolls. He chooses one and lays it on the table. "Thisss one isss of the sscity sssewer ssysstem. Though it iss a little old, and dawn from many sssourscesss."

Elleandra nods to Zeke's suggestion and with the same measured strides follows him ever deeper into the temple. She makes a study of the walls, and any religious imagery. She has a purpose, and that is not it, but curiousity is a sign of a healthy mind, as well.

She looks at the map as Zeke opens it. "This reminds me. I have been warned of the snowflake mark on the living. Are you aware of this sign and what it means? I believe we should ensure that both of us are free from that influence."

Inexplicably Zeke flinches at her words, his claw leaving the map and coming to rest in his lap. "Thisss one bearsss no sssuch mark. Thisss one isss however... not free of the influensssce of the missstresss of the Ssshard Tower." He breathes out a soft sound and looks at her. "Thisss one doess not believe that thiss one iss being watched by her. There isss nothing that one can be ssscertain of however. Would you ssstill ssshare wordsss with thisss one?"

In response, Elleandra methodically disrobes, proving to Zeke she bears no mark. "You have the information I need. I don't know that I have any secrets for you." It takes some time to completely prove herself free of the mark, but she's untroubled by the process, even taking a drink of the tea before starting to dress herself again. "It's an inconvenience, to be certain, but you must see that I am unmarked."

This being done, she turns back to the map, "Do you have more copies of this? Does this show the position of all the cisterns and the water sources they draw upon?"

Zeke is silent as Elleandra disrobes and shows herself free of the mark that so many have come to bear. Thankfully, they are quite alone at the moment, though it seems that neither sith nor woman has any such concerns. "Thisss one appresciatesss your caution. Thisss one doess not currently have copiesss of thisss map, but thisss one can make more. It ssshowss what can be known of the sscisternsss." He leans forward and points to a cirlce that lays beneath the area that is clearly the temple district. Then points to another that is located beneath the Soldier's Defense. "It doesss alssso ssshow the flow of water beneath the sscity."

"I would like you to keep this copy, and prepare me another." She looks thoughtful, "In two days, an eagle shall land on the tree outside the window just outside this room. It will wait for you to provide it with this map." Elleandra turns her attention to Zeke, "How much success has your order seen in removing the plague? Also, are you aware of its source?"

"Thissss one would be happy to do ssso. Thisss one will await your messssanger." Zeke nods politely to Elleandra and tilts his head at her not unlike a raptor might. "Thisss one hass ssseen little luck in removing the plague, but thisss oness People have had more sssuccesss with a more... dangeroussss effort."

Green eyes peer into hers. "You mussst undersstand that thisss isss ssecret. If it were to get out that there were /any/ cure however dangerousss that there would be chaosss in the ssstreetsss and that thosse trying to pressserve livesss would be overwhelmed by thosssse that do not undersstand caution." Zeke lets out a soft breath and settles into his stool. "Asss for the sssource, all we know iss that thisss missstresss sseemssss to have sssome control over it. One hass heard that there isss sssomeone elssse who actually made the... thing that transssfersss the plague, but thisss one doess not know for ssure."

"Then let me put it this way," says Elleandra. "How long does it take to cure a single person? What is the efficacy of the cure? If some way can be found to destroy the source of the issue, I am concerned that we might still have issues where the infected might infect others." She looks thoughtfully at the map, committing what she can to memory, just in case.

Zeke picks up his tea cup delicately and considers her words. "Are you sshaman-cassste? Thisss one wisshesss to know if thisss one can explain in sssuch termsss asss healersss ussse."

"I am a Druid, but I study healing beyond the scope of divine power, as well," replies Elleandra. "If there is anything I do not understand, I will let you know." She watches Zeke closely, and her attention is such that she hardly seems to blink.

So Zeke explains. His People - the sith-makar - have begun healing the sick. Using a spell that only a few of the People know. This spell has thus far been one hundred percent effective. Either in killing the patient, or - eventually - curing them. He explains that it sometimes takes multiple castings of the spell to get it to work properly to cast out the plague, and even goes into detail on how it affects the bodies of those that are chosen for this particular 'cure'. He sighs at the end of this explanation. "If it wasss not a ssometimesss fatal cure, we would make it available to everyone, but sssome can not sssurvive the sstrain."

"I see," murmurs Elleandra. The news obviously is far from ideal. "I trust your people are working on improving this cure. If not, I ask you to do all you can to direct them to this task. Perhaps there might be some treatment to prepare those who need to be cured." She looks thoughtful for a moment. "We have been away too long. We were here to discuss a private matter. My beloved, Kamaria, and I would like to bear a child, and I have come seeking advice on how this might be done, as we are both female. Perhaps you would direct me to take this to the clerics of Althea. Does that seem like a reasonable excuse for a private meeting?"

"We are of courssse, doing our bessst, but only ssso much can be done without undersstanding the plague better." Zeke nods to Elleandra and then blinks at her. "Thisss one would of coursse direct you to the priesstss of Althea. They can help with sssuch a thing. Though, thisss one thinksss that only ssoft-ssskinssss would call it caussse for privascy." He is amused, and then as he speaks he seems to become oddly sad. "Among the People children are sssuch a blesssing that newss of them isss rarely hidden away."

"There are some matters I would keep private," explains Elleandra, "Until the path to joy is understood." She curtseys again to Zeke and stands ready to follow him. "I greatly appreciate what you have shared today. And I believe I can perhaps aid you with the information you seek." The flicker in her eyes indicates a plan. "I do not know if I can deliver it in two days, but I will try."

"Thisss one underssstandsss. Thisss one will sssay nothing on the matter." Zeke's jaw shuts on the subject and its clear that he wont. Instead he picks up his map and tucks it away, leading her away from the tea and the rest area back toward where there are others that may overhear their conversation. "Thisss one appresciatesss your effortssss. With the blesssingsss of the Dragonfather, perhapsss we will find our anssswersss sssoon enough."

"What will be, will be," says Elleandra softly.

"The wild endures all things that time brings, but it does not do so passively," she adds quietly. "And as for my matter, you need not hide it. Now that I know you are untroubled by it. Not all are." Elleandra considers her next words carefully, "I will have to approach the Temple of Althea in due time."

"Thiss one wissshess you many blessingsss of joy upon your nessst." Zeke bows his head to her, his green eyes blinking owlishly. "Isss it cusssstomary among sssoftssskinsss to offer a gift to esspecting matessss? If ssso, thisss one would be honored to make sssuch an offering to you and your mate. When you are ready for othersss to know of your essspectationsss."

"It is a custom," says Elleandra. For the first time, she smiles, bowing her head, "I would be honored, and I promise that you shall be among the first to know. Kamaria and I are waiting until this latest issue is resolved. Since magic is such a problem at the moment, we will wait until we the baby will be safe."

Zeke nods solemnly as they enter the main area of the temple, his green eyes deeply considering. There seems to be something weighing on his mind. Something that he does not speak of but puts an odd expression on his features. Unfortunately it's difficult to read a sith-makar's face, and thus it's nearly impossible to tell what he's thinking as he offers a low nod to Elleandra. "Isss there anything elssse that thisss one might do for you?"

Elleandra shakes her head, "You have helped me enough already. When I have better news to share, I will let you know. I look forward to seeing the the followers of Althea can tell me." Despite all that is happening in the world now, this topic clearly brings her joy, and a smile curves her lips. "Well, there is one last thing. Do you know anyone specific I should speak to at the Temple of Althea?"

Cryosanthia woke up from a very hard and deep sleep that followed the events of the night before, to find Zeke was not in the room. To say this was worrying and shocking would be to understate it. Faran was dragged awake, and the absolute minimum necessary to get ready and go out was done, with them getting ready and going out. The white-scaled sith-makar immediately starts searching the temple and asking after her cihuaa, and is directed his way. Her concern is concealed, as she walks over she moves like she owns the place, confident strides, straight posture. It's almost blasphemous the way she seems to ignore the various clergy about, it's like it's her home, and others are some sort of self-motive furniture. She closes the distance to the pair in discussion.

"Zeke! This one was worried. Hello Elleandra, nice to see you again. I'm sorry I haven't come to see you, I've been... occupied."

Faranmidahn, for her part is still clad in her sand colored, rough spun silk tunic and leggings, looking about as Cryo does, though her stride means she must double up at the least to keep pace with her friend. As they draw near to the conversation in progress, she smiles, "Oh, hello, Miss Elly!" then, "Hello, Zeke!"

It's more the purposeful, hurried stride of Cryosanthia that ends up drawing the attention of one (1) Truthsayer, more than anything else about the group does. Setting aside whatever duties he was going on about, Zant pads over towards their way, albeit a bit carefully so. "Is everything alright?" He asks, of everyone gathered there as a whole, even if he isn't holding all that much visible concern in his bright features.

Zeke straightens suddenly at the sight of the female sith-makar. Anyone - anyone could read the clear guilt in his posture as she approaches him. More so than can be explained by her words. To Elleandra in particular it's an oddity, and the scent of his embarrassment wafts into the air to tell Crysoanthia that he's hiding something. Something that is made more obvious by the fact that he lowers his eyes demurely and watches the ground rather than her approach. "Thisss one iss ssorry Cryossanthia. Thisss one felt a great need to do the Dragonfather'sss work thisss morning and did not wisssh to wake you. Thisss one /ssshould/ have." He nods to Faranmidahn in greeting and then blinks at what to him is the sudden appearance of a stranger that he does not recognize. "Peassce on your nessst."

Elleandra greets Faranmidahn and Cryosanthia first with a curtsey, her smile warm. "I am delighted to see you both again." The smile retreats and her eyes tighten as she then asks, "Are you both well?" She looks aside to Zeke, curious about his body language. The question from Zant earns a look from the druid, but not an answer. "Is there something that you expect to be amiss?"

Faranmidahn smiles wearily, "In part, and yourself?" she replies to Elly, her eyes closing as a hand slips up under her voluminous mass of hair to scratch at the nape of her neck. Somewhere within her silken tunic a mouselike squeak protests the Lucht's obvious self destructive negligence in not waking up -directly- into the middle of eating breakfast, and the pinkish off white of her cheeks becomes a more brilliant rose and she sighs, before looking up to the Truthsayer with a, "Hi!"

The elegant white-scaled sith-makar nods to the Truthsayer, "I'm not sure Zant."

Her attention is on Zeke, she reaches out, halting her hand in the air. She inhales, briefly, scenting him, the guilt. She glances slightly at Elleandra, then back to the blue-scale. She is concerned, its easy to read in her body, her motions are slow and careful as if she might break her man. "It was the Dragonfather's business, not... Hers? Yes? You're not well, there's things we must sort out, precautions."

The white-scale looks at Elleandra again, and like the other, her expressions are flat and hard to read. She looks back at Zeke, "We need to talk about things. I'll make some tea, come."

Zeke, if he had flesh rather than scale, would likely have been an interesting shade of tomato rather than blue as he actually is. His eyes flicker around to those gathered and he ducks his head to them. "Thisss one mussst go with Cryossanthia. Sssshe iss right there are thingsss that we ssshould disssucsss. In privascy." For some reason this makes him look even more embarrassed, his eyes flickering inexplicably toward Elleandra for a moment and then away again.

"I was not sure," Zant tells in response to Elleandra with a brief knit of his brows together. "You were... You know." His head tilts slightly to one side curiously, before dipping his head respectfully towards Zeke. "Sun shine warmly upon you." And then, a subtly-warmer smile to Faranmihdan's perked-up greeting and he offers a similar "Sun shine warmly on you," but with an addition of a brighter "Hi" at the end.

But then-- he blinks once, twice, three times at the white-scaled Sith. He considers her for a moment, and... "...Cryo?" He perks up with more obvious concern now, green gaze going up and down over her. "I almost didn't recognize you! What... did something...?" He frowns, and purses his lips, holding the rest back since she seems to end up more focused on Zeke.

Elleandra looks from Cryosanthia to Zeke, her smile turning a bit amused. "Peace on your nest," she suggests, in a way that implies something. "As I have come to learn, all things in their season, and the seasons care little for the troubles of mortals." She very pointedly adds, "Thank goodness."

Her attention shifts then to those not about to depart, "I am well, now, thank you. I didn't expect to visit Alexandria, but recent matters of family have made it a priority. Things do not seem so bad here. They do not seem so well here, either, I suppose. And in this, I imagine one might say there is balance. But I do not find it so."

Faranmidahn's cheer wilts as Zant puts together Cryo's change. She gives a bit of a fidget and looks to Zeke questioningly, coughs briefly behind a hand, then, "Cryo, do you want me anywhere in particular?" The musings from the chef draw her eyes and she answers, "There are still troubles enough for all. I hope your family is well, Miss Elly."

If one thought it was impossible for Zeke to become /more/ embarrassed they would have been wrong. Pure mortification eeks out of his pores as his eyes dart toward Elleandra. Her words seem the likely cause. Unsteadily he nods to Cryosanthia and follows in her wake. They're making their way back out of the temple proper now and toward more privacy, and each step is a step easier for the blue-scaled sith as embarrassment takes its easy time in disappearing. "Thisss one... would not have many know of what happened Cryossanthia." His voice is soft and sad as he speaks, the last of whatever thought had been on his mind disappearing. "It would not help, and thisss one... will do ass you will." It wasn't what he'd been about to say.

Concern does not so much fade away from Zant's features, as it just grows more obvious with Cryosanthia's words. His gaze shifts away from her for a moment to consider the others, and for just a brief few seconds, he can be seen chewing uncertainly at his lower lip.

"No, no, I can tell whatever you have to speak of is best kept to closer circles," he eventually tells Cryo, with a slow dip of his head. "I will talk with you later."

Elleandra smiles at Cryosanthia, "Many tasks. But foremost among them is finding a way to achieve the wishes that I share with my beloved. Which is something that Zeke has helped me with. It seems that the Temple of Althea is where I must go, though." She doesn't seem certain she should add more in this company, though. "Perhaps sometime soon I might share a strange story with you. Very strange, truly, but something wonderful has come of it."

The Druid suddenly realizes, "You know, I don't know the last time we had a chance to talk. I'm a Druid now, and have surrendered my sorcery for this new path."

"Thank you Zant. We shall catch up later. I will explain this, then." Cryosanthia makes a slow flowing gesture towards her whole body, her voice light but neutral and her attention fixed on Zeke and her destination.

A quick gesture with her left hand, there is a faint glow tracing along her arm, and some spell goes off. The white-scale taps her mouth and points at Faran. It's subtle, aside from the spell, as she gestures towards the guard at the entrance, "Would you wait outside Faran, so we have the privacy. Listen, I will call for you if I need you."

Cryo blinks, rearing her head back a little. The last time was... decades... "It's been... a while, yes Elleandra. A long time. There's so much... I struggle where to start. This one... was not aware that was possible, to change a self so fundamentally.. It, suits you more?"

They have arrived at the room. Cryosanthia leads the way in, going immediately to the tea-pot to mess with it, then looks back to watch the others come in.

Faranmidahn follows along for a time, eyeing the two sith with veiled concern but says nothing to the effect. Rather, she offers, "I'll wait outside, Cryo, in case you need anything, let me know, alright?" The update from the chef brings a certain startlement to the Lucht and she blinks owlishly at her, "Wh-what? You can... that can be done? How? Why?"

"It is me," explains Elleandra. "A rejection of the old blood and the acceptance of something older still. I am at peace, now. But I think perhaps another time would be better, as you are occupied now." She curtseys again, prepared to depart. "I wish you all well until we meet again and for all the seasons after."

It seems then that the conversation will be a private one and this causes Zeke to relax somewhat, joining Cryosanthia in the room. He moves dutifully toward the tea pot himself. It is his common duty, and so having her tending to it seems to leave him without something to attend to. So he hovers near her, waiting to see if they will be joined by anyone else. It seems not, so the sith nods farewell to the others. "Farewell, and thisss one wisshesss you luck in your endevorsss." This to them both, but perhaps more to Elleandra.

Faranmidahn seems a touch disquieted by that. How does one give up their blood? What else then? The albino considers her hands for a moment, her hair, the aberrations of her birth. If one could give up their blood... what then is flesh? What... makes you... you?

Cryosanthia is actually pretty helpless with making tea. If this was a task of hers in the tower, she's either forgotten it completely or it involves different looking things. She serves tea, not makes it, and even that was a lifetime ago. How does it even heat up? Is her first, irrelevant thought. "Perhaps you should handle this Zeke, I'm not even sure which of these herbs to use."

"This one is glad you are whole and at peace, Elleandra. Would you... wait a moment with Faran?" Her words, her tone, remain light and even, her body language is minimal, few movements, slow when she makes them, gestures somewhat akin to dancing. Her tail, largely still. It's cold and disquieting. "Zeke, could you add something to help memory and to calm?"

Elleandra sighs gently, "I will have to return later, Cryosanthia." She is saddened by putting off the reunion, but there's something she must see to. "A time will come soon when we can speak for as long as we would wish." Or so it is to be hoped. "I will return when others are not waiting for me."

Zant might not seem particularly dissuaded from his concerns by all this, considering the look he sends after the four while they separate-- but ultimately, he turns back to move to attend to the students he was helping with meditation practices.

Zeke seems glad of the task, moving in to tend to the tea. This is something that he has done so many times that the habit of motions seems like second nature. Easy as breathing, and he is glad to put his mind aside for such. Her request is easy enough to attend to, a bit of the right herbs joining the rest. Soon enough there is enough tea brewing. Zeke offers some to Faran in spite of the fact that she means to sit outside while they discuss what needs talking about. Everyone else has left, and so he offers tea to Cryosanthia next before taking up his own calming brew.

Meanwhile, outside, the Lucht settles against the wall and sinks to her haunches, intent on idly fiddling with her battered skipball, but the sight of her pale fingers around it rekindles her recent question and so she crouches eyes vacant as she struggles with a new splinter in her mind.

That feeling again. The sensation of something almost grasped, slipping away. Her memories, her success, her plan even though she didn't have one, her opportunity to resolve things before they spiral out of control. Again. It's strange to be able to hold the teacup. Cryosanthia expects it too to be an illusion, an emptiness of visual space, but the teacup is real, the tea is warm, she drinks it down. She closes the door on Faran, staring first at her then glancing after the departed Elleandra, worry is not concealed this time, or the little lucht has become better at reading her sith friend's expression.

"I hope we did not need her here," Cryosanthia says, turning around and gliding over to the bed, then settling on it. The teacup is held in her lap, all her senses focused on her mate. "Zeke, did you set her a task that would kill Menel?"

Zeke stands near the tea pot, watching the door close and then Cryosanthia moving with her gliding ease to the bed where she sits comfortably. Her question makes him grasp his tea cup tightly. There's a slight tick in his jaw. The enemy. He has not forgotten. Can not forget. He had hardly slept through the night thinking about it. Swirling plans and guilt in equal measure. "No." It's a soft word and he shakes his head. "Ssshe came for private reasssonsss to ssseek one who sservesss the Dragonfather. Thisss one wasss in ssservisce. That iss all."

It's the answer she wants to hear. Cryosanthia wants to leave it at that, abandon her questioning immediately, but she has doubts. The nervous ticks, his scent, what his body says, could be guilt for actions or for thinking of actions incomplete. She watches so carefully, inhaling, exhaling. She will take it at face value, for you. "I'm glad you were able to assist."

Cryo hesitates, moving her teacup from her lap to the bed, "Last night. I understand needing to destroy him, utterly. I understand being horrified at one's own actions. I understand the emotional conflict. You are... too composed Zeke, even your greater experience and the Dragonfather's warmth..."

She snorts and exhales hard, laughing a sort, pained laugh. "I'm upset you're not upset enough. Oh Cryo, Cryo, Cryo, what are you asking? Zeke! Why are you not, not ok?"

Faranmidahn closes her eyes, her mind crawling down the rabbit hole that Elleandra's casual abandonment... or... conversion(?) of the sorcery of the blood opened beneath her proverbial feet. The sorceress' gift. Faran's gift, part and parcel with her oddities, not unrecognized so much as unspoken. Deeper... into childhood concerns, the memories of the cruelties of children for the different... childhood wishes... welcome only in that she is distracted from her recent dishonor and the agony of her two dear friends.

The blue-scaled sith sits down on a stool, his face composed, but his tail flick-flicking behind him. "Thisss one isss /not/ well. Thisss one jussst hasss greater esperiansce hiding sssuch thingsss. Thisss one hasss learned that the long plan isss the better plan. It givesss thisss one the chanssse to think carefully on how bessst to act." He looks at her, his green eyes sad. "You knew it onssce Cryossanthia. That he wasss the enemy. Thisss one knowsss that you no longer do, but thisss one can. In thisss onessss bonesss thisss one knowsss he mussst be dessstroyed even ass sssurely ass thisss one knowsss that he isss innoscent."

"Can't we put in a cat? To have a furious feral feline instead of you conflicted?" Cryo asks, leaning and sound anxious. "I invented all sorts of justifications, he was a demon plant of Kol's shape changed to look like our friend and his death would prove it. What is your long plan? It hurt so much to have this conflict, it was driving me insane. Zeke!"

Cryosanthia moves forward, to hold him, to touch him, and stops again, halting in the air at his personal space. Her voice starts rising, the calm tones fading to anxious ones. "I remember it all. I remember wanting... did you ask her for a mushroom, a herb with two uses, to end your suffering with?"

Faranmidahn chases the rabbit further when, at once, as the weathered skipball creaks in her grasp, her eyes open. She rises, cradling the object between her palms and she says the only word that comes to mind...

"No."

"Thiss one can not passs thisss on to another." The sound of his voice is filled with resignation, Zeke's shoulders hunching slightly under the weight of her words. The truth of them. "The magic doesss not work thisss way, and even if it did, thisss one would be resssponsssible for the pain thisss one would causssse in doing sssso. Thisss one can not do sssuch a thing."

There's a little clump of herbs in his tea; her shadow arching over so that it's like she's touching him, he knows she's trying to reach out. But her words are so hard to bear. "Thisss one... Thisss one consssidered it." There were things in this very temple that would send him to the Death-singing Dragon's door. He knew them. "But thisss one ssservesss the Dragonfather, /musst/ sserve the Dragonfather. If He is with thisss one, then thiss one can not turn assside from duty." He looks up. "Thisss one can not leave you either Cryosssanthia. But thisss one can not tell you thisss onesss plan. You will sstop thisss one."

Cryosanthia's heart sinks as she hears, knows the true depths of his despair. She reaches again, and halts her hands. They hover in the air, quivering. "Don't leave me. I should never have let you. It hurt to carry it hurts more to see you do. Why can no one help, I don't know what to do..."

I am so alone. Looking away from Zeke was a mistake. Her eyes took in the corner of the room, and a particular play of light dragged a memory through. Of Home. Of feeling foolish and overwhelmed. None of this might even be real, another one of Her tricks, to test her training, test her conditioning, a dream to explore her perfect weapon and find if there was a flaw.

"Faran... I need you."

Faranmidahn nearly spins on the ball of her foot as she reaches out to open the door, tucking her current fidgit into it's place on her swordbelt, "What do you need?" she wonders, looking between the two, trying to read the room, openly concerned but not yet worried.

"Thisss one isss glad, that it isss a burden that you do not have to carry." Zeke's voice was full of sincerity, for all that he is twisted inside he is glad that Cryosanthia does not feel this way. "Sssome thingsss are asss they are meant to be. Thisss may be one of them." It is the only answer he has as she calls for her friend. He sits on his stool, still and with just a touch of soft sadness echoing off of him. "Ssshe may be in need of comfort which... thisss one can not give."

Cryosanthia is making a quiet noise for herself, a mourning, which would be louder if she wasn't striving so hard to control it. A cry for her missing mate, he is here but he won't come, a sorry for her lost foundling, who lives but is not safe, a despair for herself, because she is checkmated but must keep playing.

Her voice is uneven, she struggles to form the words, "Zeke has a plan, plans, to destroy Menel. It will not be direct, it will be smart. We can't tell any... many people. Only a few. If it is known widely the hold She has on his mind, he will be disgraced, sent from the Dragonfather's temple. This is the only hope holding him here, to Ea, these two pillars." Three, if Cryosanthia counted herself, but she does not, "Without them, he will shed his scales and step to the other side."

She turns back to Zeke and fixes her eyes on him, with the intensity of an arctic gale, cold resolve blowing off her, "I forgive you Zeke, it's not your doing. I forgive all you will do. I will stop you and I will stop Her, and I need you Faran, to be smarter than both of us."

Faranmidahn looks to Zeke as she enters, as he speaks up, first, but she answers him at first, "That my mother gave birth to such a thing was meant to be. That we fall with nothing under us, -that- is meant to be." she begins, a little brusquely as making a decision still requires confronting the feelings attached to same. The celerity of her private epiphany hasn't completely resolved that, yet. Her tone softens, "What vexes you is the work of another, the crux of choice and chance and -no more-, an anchored leash you donned to spare Cryosanthia... The will to make such a sacrifice for love... -that- is meant to be." A glance to Cryo, to Zeke, then, "Whatever Sally's hollow spurs drive you to plot we will see stopped, because that is what -I- mean to be!"

Slowly and carefully Zeke sets aside his tea cup. It is barely touched, and the sith doesn't look at it again. Instead he looks at Cryosanthia, Faranmidahn with her powerful belief briming up inside. "Thisss one isss sssorry. Thisss one knowsss that you were clossse. That he wassss assss a hatchling to you. Thisss one would never do anything to harm you, but thissss... He will die." It is said with such horrid certainty, as if Menel were already dead. He moves toward her, lifting his crystal arm as if he might touch her. As if he might apologize, but words are not good enough. Instead he looks at Faranmidahn, sways his tail sadly, and turns to go.

A chill runs through the white-scale, and while this might seem the kind of thing she likes, it isn't. Not thrilling, not stilling, not draining the heat of unwanted passions, it's more the cold of death, the loss of hope. Zeke's words are so direct, and so... true. There is nothing she can do. It will happen.

"No." Cryosanthia leaps and wriggles, fast when she wants to be, flowing around in front of her mate, she blocks his exit. She will fight for him. She places her hands his shoulders. Maybe the shock will help. She stares into his eyes. "Seldan told me I disgrace my ancestors. They would be ashamed for what I did. My abilities misused. They too you! You have to... you have to... help us against Her! Whatever you talk about Her won't hurt your plan. Speculate. Stay here. I... Faran! Reasons Zeke can't leave, I need some!"

Faranmidahn trots on after the Sunguard, somewhat disappointed that her speech didn't seem to carry enough weight to sink in. She'll pounce on a bard sometime for improvisational inspirings one day. As Cryo nimbly slips around the front of her mat, the Lucht boxing him in from behind, forearm draping off the hilt of her longsword as she settles her weight to that hip, canting her head in counter, "How well do you know Daeus, Zeke? His will, his touch?"

The motion is too fast for Zeke. He jerks away from the sudden, unexpected /touch/ and stumbles backwards to get away from it. Stumbles backwards into Faranmidahn who is just tall enough to hit the backs of his backwards bent knees and totally unsettle the sith-makar. Needless to say any answer that was forthcoming, any reply to Cryosanthia /or/ Faranmidahan is gone in a second. Instead Zeke lolls on his back, his tail trapped underneath him as he struggles to regain some semblance of balance. "Sssssorry! Thisss one isss sssorry!"

"Oh no, no..." Cryosanthia rushes to kneels to help him. This will not. Another touch will be too much, she's sure. She holds out her hand, outstretched to his crystal claw, "Take my hand, Zeke. I'll lift you up. You've smushed Faran."

Take it, please take it. There is only one reason needed for Zeke to stay, "You are my cihuaa and I want you here, keeping me company. I am not well. You are not well. Stay Zeke, Stay."

"Aaaaand... don't roll over on that side, you will smush her further."

Faranmidahn is expecting something to happen. Cryo's hands going to his shoulders, yeah.. that she kind of expected. The sudden, full bodied recoil of her mate sending his knee against her in just -that- way and toppling the massive dragonchild onto her... not in so many circumstances. A fluffy shin, scattered tresses and an outstretched hand nervelessly clasping nothing are visible from beneath the flailing sith but any protests about her predicament... are not forthcoming.

There's something /beneath/ him and somehow that makes everything worse. He can't get his footing properly because there's something /under/ him. Calmly he is offered a hand and though his first instinct is to ignore it, he takes it with his crystal claw and allows himself to be drawn upwards and back onto his feet. It is a more difficult prospect than it seems at first to move and not crush poor Faranmidahn more, but Zeke does /try/. "Thisss one isss ssso sssorry." He looks miserably at her and letting go of Cryosanthia's hand offers her his crystal claw. To help her get up. It's the most he can do. Just offering is... more of a challenge than he would ever admit out loud.

Green eyes roll up to Cryosanthia and Zeke shakes his head. "You are well. Thisss one... Mussst aid the sssick. Thisss one musst do what one can to aid othersss. Before..." Before inevitability came crushing down.

"Zeke..." Cryosanthia reaches out to hold his shoulder, stop him, and stops herself. Her hand halting in the air again. She catches sight of the Arcane Mark, debossed on the back of her glove. Her mind changes track.

"Zeke, does this bother you, when I do this?" She rocks her hand back and forth in the air, making a motion like she's petting the blue-scale, but still visibly quite distant. Her fingers flick through a movement, the symbols on her gloves glow. They do more than just clean. She repeats the patting motion, slower, still at a distance. "Is it better or worse now, like this?"

She can cast Mage Hand with her gloves. The other sith might feel something, even though he's far beyond the capacity of the spell. "I am not well in the mind, and if others need you I will follow, and watch, and maybe learn something."

Faranmidahn is pretty still once all that mass is drawn off of her, her body al but subsumed in the tangled mass of her hair, by the lay of her limbs she's probably been driven face first into the floor. So deeply buried under her tresses that it'd likely be extremely difficult to tell if she was breathing by simply looking at her.... and she's about to get stepped on, isn't she....?

His offer of assistance goes unnoticed by the poor woman who is still curled up on the floor. Worriedly Zeke leans toward her, checking to make sure he didn't flatten her entirely. "Cryosssanthia!" His eyes narrow at her and his tone is one of gentle reproach. "Now isss not the time." He does not add that the idea of hands that he can feel but can not /see/ are pretty much the stuff of his nightmares, but the fear scent in the air at her gesture is likely a good indication of such. He focuses on Faran though, crystal claw moving to gentle the hair from her face. "Faranmidahn? Are you well?"

The white-scale is rebuked, she pulls her hands back, lets them fall down to her side. She observes the blue-scale as he reaches to pull up the lucht. Her mind is still going, but it's more like walking up a mountain in deep snow carrying skis than flying down it or skating across a lake. Trudging, would be the word, forward to some idea. In the meantime she smells calm. "I'm sorry Faran, this was my fault."

Startling Zeke to fall over on her, or perhaps everything. It works for both. "She needs... you're the healer, tell me what she needs. We should have more beds in here."

Faranmidahn's eye is brimmed, jaw set, brow furrowed as though the little one is trying not to scream, as the crystal claw parts the veil of hair, a trickle of crimson pooling at the tip of her nose. In a pained tone she wheezes, "Yourrr'e reallly h-heavy...." through gnashed teeth.

A low concerned rumble emits from Zeke, and all thought has flown from his mind save his duty. He is a healer, and Faran is wounded. He gently lifts her up, holding her mostly with his crystal arm, but he does not even seem to think about the fact that his other helps along. He does of course. It tickles along the back of his mind; a constant companion but one easily ignored for now. He carries her to the bed, settles her down there so that he can get a good look at how badly wounded she is, and then reaches inside himself for the power he has laying inside himself. It spills over easily, healing her wounds in a rush of magic and warmth, and he peers down at her. "Thisss one isss ssso ssorry Faranmidahn."

Cryosanthia follows along, watching her mate carry the little lucht. The thought crosses her mind, he is good with things her size, then she carefully takes the thought and tucks it over there, where she will be able to find it later. She snorts a little, amused, "There's an angel and falling joke in there somewhere. Faran, we shall have to get you back in your armour soon so you can survive socializing with us."

She moves to stand beside Zeke, watch him as he lays out the lucht and does his healing work. She's proud of him, but the damage she knows is inside makes it hard for her to relax.

Faranmidahn utters a breathless screech as she's lifted, the arm that was pinned between her and her swordhilt flushed and swollen at the forearm and her nose cntinues to bleed, though it seems no less straight than it was previously and she probably troubled her ribs some with the impact. The Lucht Siuil may bounce back pretty good, but they don't always squish as good as the stories would make it out to be. With the infusion of the Sun Lord's blessing washing away her pains, she sighs in relief and smiles up toward the blue sith in the manner of recent pain abated and her hand, restored lifts toward him to take, or not as he would, "An accident, Zeke... crux of choice and chance... I freely forgive you. But.... my friends call me Faran." It's well that Cryo didn't make her remark before Zeke's spell was done, she probably would have cried with the laughing, as it is the sound is a light giggle, though she sobers in reasonably short order, "If I am worthy again."

Zeke takes the hand, wraps his crystal claws around one that is much smaller than his and offers what comfort he can in this way. He wags his tail behind him, glad to see her healed, but knowing that it was him that caused her pain in the first place. "You were alwayssss worthy Faran-." He acknowledges her shift in name with a nod. Such things are important as well he knows. "Come, thisss one will make you more tea." Zeke moves away now, releasing her hand so that he can retrieve tea for her.

Cryosanthia moves around to her own bed, settles down on it, her tail behind her hands to either side, her robes hanging like extra drapery. She watches Zeke make the tea, drifts her head to watch Faran, before returning to her mate. She breathes regularly, attentive. She makes her final appeal.

"Zeke, my emotional crash has been resolved, but there is much more. This one still feels guilt, or feels she should feel guilt, and all my memories are still dreams. There is no harmony inside, no peace on my nest. I am functional but I am not whole. I need help, to make sense of it all, of how my feelings happen now. I can hide it but I am still full of holes. I need you to stay here and help me through it."

Faranmidahn's smile brightens so much as he willingly clasps hands with her, to acknowledge their relationship that it could be almost described like the sun coming up, and waits until he's safely moved out of danger of her accidentally touching him before she sits upright, "I'd like that very much, actually. And... Zeke? Thank you for... showing me despite the sun, that I'm not outside of the Sun Lord's love." She turns her gaze to Cryosanthia as she implores Zeke to cleave to her, her eyes thoughtful but empathetic and she drifts closer, but willfully draws rein on the impulse. This... this is the job of her mate, the criteria laid bare. She can only assist the true healer.

Zeke makes tea, cleans up around the room the cups that have been forgotten and refreshes them all and brings the tea back to Faran and Cryosanthia. He sits it on the table beside the bed, careful and delicate like he always is. "Asss you will then Cryossanthia. Thisss one will remain with you and council you. You mussst underssstand though, thisss one hasss obligationssss to the temple. To the Ssoldiersss Defensssce."

"Then I will come with you, to assist, a second pair of hands, repay things I may have done for her in the tower. I have nothing more important I can think to do, to remember and do penance." Cryosanthia takes her tea, sipping, closing her eyes and smelling it. Breathing the scent of the tea, inhaling the warm liquid. "With the counselling, I want... strong memory herbs? Restorative spells? Whatever there is. To see the plague victims and perhaps remember one. To try cleaning the tower. Anything that might bring back a memory."

To know what She did, so I can undo it in you. "I'm an open book, I need to be read."

Faranmidahn watches Zeke as he works, taking note of the ingredients as her friend is sometimes at risk of stray mischief due to Salina's transplanted influence. She gives Cryosanthia a quick thumbs-up behind Zeke's back as he presents her with her tea, then graciously accepts her own with a, "Thank you. Umm.. by the way... about the cup that.." ahem, "broke the other night... I can fix it if you still have the pieces?"

"Thisss one added sssome herbsss to your tea, to help with memory, but thisss one isss not keeper-cassste, thisss one doess not know herbs well enough to rissk sstronger medicinesss." Zeke backs away from the tea to his own cup and peers at Cryosanthia. "There may be ssspellsss that can be usssed to resstore your memory, but you would have to assk one sssuch sskilled in ssuch thingsss. Perhapsss Mikilossss?" The blue-scale glances toward Faran and offers a slight wag to his tail. "It wassss repaired by a patient asss repayment for work done. Thissss one thankssss you for the offer."

"Yes. Those could be done." Cryosanthia looks down at her cup, at the dark liquid, the leaves in the bottom. If it's helping her memory it's only for the last few days. She tries to weigh pain, determine which is worse. The insanity of attacking Menel, her adopted nestling against the sensation her mate is slipping away. Every argument has a counter, every point a deflection, like fencing with her rapier but worse. The parrys never work and the thrusts won't hit home. "I'm sorry for what I said in the cell, Zeke. I... they were true, one of them was true but I was never going to tell you and do not blame you. This mistake was mine."

Faranmidahn nods and smiles a little awkwardly, rubbing the nape of her neck again, "You're welcome, ah.... that hasn't happened since I was smalll-er." hanging on the 'l' as she realizes she'd leave a door wide open and opts to close it instead, then, "Perhaps I could retrieve some from him?" Not that she knows where he is, but... There's part of a scheme forming. Percolating, perhaps, as she sips her tea. Cryo's apology brings gravity back to her expression, but she isn't sure she's ready to inject herself into this just yet. There's a one she's having trouble carrying....

The memory of Cyrosanthia's words to him in the dungeons makes all trace of Zeke's emotions fall away. He is an empty sith-makar, his scent dead in the air and his eyes hiding. "You ssspoke the truth Cryosssanthia. Thisss one can not fault you for sssaying sssuch. Thiss one hasss alwaysss known the thingsss you sssaid are ssso." He sits down slowly, carefully on the stool he once vacated, but not like he wants to be there. He is withdrawn, deep inside himself. He nods to Faran. "Thissss one would appresciate if you went Faran. Perhapsss he will have something to aid ussss. Sssome idea. If not, there iss no harm in asssking."

Cryo tilts her head and looks Faran's way as she draws out the word. She has a smile though, closed, to keep her teeth concealed. What little scrap of mirth she might have had falls away as she sees her mate crushed, again, by her words. She has no way of comforting him, well, she has, but she hasn't thought of them. Instead she nods to the plan, looks down at her cup, back up again. She huffs, exhaling, "What did delay you so long? Did something happen?"

Faranmidahn smiles as she recognizes the look on Cryo's face, a little sure a joke is still incoming, but, as she watches Cryo's mirth collapse, she looks to Zeke and says softly, "The heart is quite the thing. It can fuel resolve or shatter it..." There is a slow sip from her cup and she continues, "We can't help who bore us into the world. My mother mostly ignored me, so I know what it's like to feel worthless, especially in those eyes. I also know how the different are treated." and she fluffs part of her hair with her free hand. Her cup is set aside before she rises, "I also know that no one invests so much passion into saving something or someone without worth... or the strain of the ideals you've chosen for a sense of your own worth."

"Thisss one isss sssorry to hear that your nesst-mother was ssso. Thisss one isss scertain that your kin mussst be proud of you though. It isss to them that you mussst look, and if they do not sssee your worth than thisss one mussst think them blind." Zeke looks down. There are so many words rifling through his mind, but none of them are worth saying so he falls silent again.

Cryo looks over at the very fluffy lucht, the hair on her a ball as big as her body. She smiles again, "She missed her chance, you would have dusted like a champ. This one is sorry your nest-mother was... indifferent. Mine was great. Zeke's... you would not wish to meet her. Sith-makar are not born, we hatch. Not pushed into the world, our first act is to fight to be a part of it, break out, break in. Some eggs, stay eggs. Some hatchlings never become nestlings never become younglings never grow up. We are very weak, and you better than any would understand what being so small in a dangerous place is like. The instincts are very strong, the nest-mothers, so strong. Strong enough to tear your mind apart when something goes wrong, strong enough to make you fiercer and more fearless than anything when they go right. They are unstoppable."

So why aren't you? The thought crosses her mind, and Cryosanthia falls silent again. She swirls the tea around, drinks the remainder. Looks at the leaves on the bottom. A blotch, nothing predictive. "I feel this is like a second hatching. I have to keep pounding and wait for my world to shatter, so I can get into the bigger one I know is out there. I'm sorry Faran, I turned it into talking about me when I should have been trying to understand your upbringing. It sounds lonely, it sounds sad. Zeke... would, has, answered you better on those."

The white-scale looks up with an amused huff, "But not me. Zeke, it is important. Did something delay you in the room? It's... the time travelling. Zak and Menel and me... I feel there's something..."

Faranmidahn looks a little crestfallen as it seems her choice fell awry of what she thought was the point and both hands cover her face before they brush back her hair over her shoulders, "No... I was..." sigh, "I was trying to make a point but... I clearly didn't properly understand how your people worked. I kind of started that..." She shakes her head and trails off, maybe this can only be solved by someone with actual common ground. and so she waits... perhaps something poignant will come to her mind.

Zeke gives Faran a comforting look. "Our People are very different, it isss ssstrange to usss how yoursss worksss asss well." He feels as though he missed something, perhaps several somethings though, in the translation between his world and hers. He tries not to think long on Cyrosanthia's words about nest-mothers, to not think of his own. How he has betrayed her by being so far from the safety that she tried to provide him. He lets Cryosanthia speak to it, acknowledging that his nest-mother was not as others were. Did not let go when she was meant to. Yet, he must answer Cryosanthia's words.

Zeke's brow furrows slightly as he considers them. "Thisss one wassss trapped upsstairsss. Thisss one went to get the medical bag to tend to woundss, and when thisss one tried to return... thisss one could not. There wassss... thiss invissible forssce keeping thiss one from going down-stairsss."

Cryosanthia latches onto that like she's scented prey. She faces Zeke, leaning towards him intently. "It's not your fault! Zeke, it was She! The oozes were gone, they didn't cast a barrier. Were they, was... She can't loop back on her own timeline, can She? Whence came Menel? In my past, in the tower, I raised him, yet he has been in Alexandria for some time. Was that a ... younger does not fit well... and earlier iteration of Her that had jumped far forward, perhaps after Alexandria disappeared into the mists, to find it? Might that be why Kol was so interested in me? That he would know there was a certain white-scale sith in Alexandria but they never saw it on their raids? She could not have handed me off to a younger version of herself, so all this must have happened with her? And Zak, was told he would be a great cleric by the demon, so his future ties in somehow. The dots on your map, Zeke, do they come with names, families? maybe there is a clue, something in their family trees?"

Faranmidahn feels bad bringing that bit of laundry out to air to no good end. At least establishing a commonality would make it a little less embarrassing, or at least a worthwhile sacrifice. Sigh. "If she didn't, I'd probably be studying the Everstorm instead of having the pleasure of meeting my two best friends after Torrent!" she tries with a little smile to lighten, and maybe deflect a little before mushing on ahead, "Sally walked in while I still had my detection spell going... it was like looking straight into the sun." Which must be something considering her Solar remarks earlier, "I wouldn't think one could cast such a thing without moving or saying anything, but with that much power... I... guess it's more than possible." She's not going to acknowledge being out of her depth by several fathoms, after all, Salina may be able to do just about anything, but she can't possibly -think- of everything, right? Then, Cryosanthia's temporal musings set her mind to racing, tracing paths until they bounce off of particularly disturbing topics, then, "What if she was born under a different name, or not even born yet and just moved back from the distant future with a knowledge of how things would originally have proceeded without her influence?"

Zeke rubs his between his brow ridges at the sudden influx of musings. The blue-scaled sith clearly has no idea what to think on the matter, but prompted by Cryosanthia he pulls out one of his maps and lays it across is lap splayed out. It's the one with vampire kidnappings on it and he studies it with an air of resignation. "Unfortunately... there isss no way of knowing. Thisss one could asssk for ssuch information, but it would take a /great/ deal of time. Much resssearch into history to ssee if there isss any connection. Thisss one doesss not even have a perfectly complete lisssst of thossse taken. Sssome thiss one knowsss have vanissshed and it isss not known if they are victimsss or merely gone from Alexandria. Thisss one can look into it though." He heaves a sigh at the thought of such a comprehensive project. One that is a bit outside his area of expertise, only to blink at Faran. "Wait... Did you sssay that /ssshe/ glowed? Asss in her ssskin?"

"Then... Her lived experiences would be in reverse?" Cryosanthia says, biting at her lips, "Her earlier efforts might be our later experiences? It would make sense if she was coming from the future, as also the demon lord, that any changes they make would affect their past-in-the-future so they would not be able to return. The smart way would be to always skip backwards, taking from a future that will be destroyed by her future actions in it's earlier past. Unless she is making a change, jumping forward to see what happens, jumping back and making another change, like sewing a stitch, which would be closer to my experience... ummmm..."

"This one is curious if she glowed as well. Didn't you say my arm glowed, after the plague infected me, and Seldans strange colourations. No, this is a Distraction. Answer please Faran."

Faranmidahn straightens, looking as if she suddenly realized she's walked out on stage with a packed house, but she nods, "I still had my spell going from the slime test when she walked in, I almost flinched clean off the bar. I had to drop the spell or she'd blind me." Ahem, then, "It as like she was made of light It could have been some sort of major abjuration for all I know I didn't have any time to analyze it. I'm sorry." There is a somewhat sulky pout, then, she looks to Cryosanthia, "Yes, you and Merek both, it wasn't your arm, though it was internal. It matched the signature of the universal magic the slime was.... processing. It's why I thought you were infected."

GAME: Zeke rolls knowledge/arcana: (6)+2: 8
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls knowledge/arcana: (7)+10: 17

"Interesssting. Thissss one hasss no idea what it meansss, but thiss doesss not ssseem normal. Thisss onesss ressearch on the fae doesss not ssuggessst that they ssshould glow under sssuch sscircomssstancessss... ssso there may be sssome other magic at work. Perhapsss to make her appear other than sssshe isss? There are too many posssibilitiessss. You mussst tell Mikilosss thissss when you sssee him." Zeke is clearly deep in thought.

GAME: Cryosanthia rolls knowledge/the planes: (20)+2: 22 
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls will+3: (6)+4+3: 13

"Wow. That's..." Cryosanthia thinks it over, remembering back a little over a week and eighty years ago. Her tail twitches up a storm behind her, "Zeke is right! Fae do not..."

The sith-makar's voice trails off. She's staring off at an angle, at neither Faran nor Zeke. Her scent completely fades. Her nostrils flare. Her body goes completely still. Her pupils widen. Without a word she moves and lies on her bed, on her back. It's the way she sleeps, but slightly different. Her tail is straight, her arms and legs are spread as if she's lying for examination.

She stares up at the ceiling.

Faranmidahn nods, "Once I find Mikilos, I will." There's a pause and she considers something, "Merek said something... He mentioned her looking like starlight, too... comparing her to Lady Moonlight's guiding light. I thought he night have been flirting, like Sir Renwalt in-" she blushes, "...a.. book I read about... somewhere." Ahem. As Cryo's tail starts livening up, she turns to regard her, "Cryo... are you alright...?" she asks gently and starts to approach.

Zeke is perhaps the first to notice the change in Cryosanthia. Sensitive to the changes in others as he is, and also aware of sith-scent which Faran can not sense. Her lack of smell is immediately concerning, but when she trails off Zeke's concern becomes true worry and she lays down. "Cryosssanthia!" He waves his crystal claw before her eyes, but there's no response. He holds his other hand out to stop Faran from drawing any closer and with a look of determination he goes to the cabinet under the tea pot, picks up the bucket of fresh water there, and brings it over. Wordlessly, he throws it on the other sith. "Cryosssanthia!"

The water splashes everywhere. Cryo is soaked from the waist up. Rivulets run off her face and down her checks. Her eyes are open but there is no response, not even the minor tracking movements visible up close. She is very limp, but spasms move across her body in various locations. Her arms, her tail, her belly. Symmetrical but not sensible. One side of her, then the other. There is tension in her muscles, followed by them quickly relaxing.

Faranmidahn cries, 'Cryo!' in alarm as Zeke waves her off, her hand contorting into the first gesture of her spellcraft and she beings her chant almost as on automatic, "Magic forces sweeping earth to sky, reveal your flow to my focused eye!" even she keeps backing up, hand outstretched to find the doorhandle. Where is it where is it!?? <halfling>

Zeke does the only thing he can think of that might draw Cryosanthia out, he bugles, calling to her as a mate should. His voice is soft and loud, his face tilting toward hers so that he can lay his face just alongside. He's not quite touching, but the scent of him that's strongest is beside her nose now. If... If she truly chose him, then they would touch like this, they would connect cheek to cheek. Scent glands to scent glands and make one scent together.

Her nostrils flare as she inhales Zeke's scent. Her nose is full of water, but it is something her body can handle and the increased moisture heighten her sense of smell. One scent together, penetrates directly to her mind, stirring ancient instincts, the basement of her mind.

Zeke is close enough to hear her whisper, "Thank you Mistress." It's devoid of emotion and automatic. She's staring at the ceiling. She sneezes, inhales more strongly, this time when she speaks she sounds alive. Her head twitches towards Zeke's but she doesn't move. He's so close! Her inner self squees! "My cihuaa. Why am I wet? What... I was..."

She sits up and rubs at her horns, grabbing hold of both of them to rock her head with.

"It's not magic! I don't-! I'll get help!" Faran cries as the light in her eyes abruptly ends and she turns to pull the door open, getting it about halfway when she hears Cryo start speaking again and she turns. Thump. Whimper. "Zeke....?" Ow!Ow!Ow!

Zeke surges backwards as she moves, to keep out of her space. He stands close at her beside though, hovering with just a trace of anxiety. "Ssshe ssseemss to be alright Faran. Thisss one thinksss it wasss a flassh-back. A memory triggered by sssome-thing we said." Zeke is watching Cryosanthia closely however. "You were trapped in your mind Cryosssanthia. You would not come out, ssso thiss one tried water. What did you sssee?"

"Paper! This one needs paper!" Cryosanthia looks around desperately. There's a pad and pencil inside the beside table. She wrenches it open and starts drawing, sketching something. She speaks as she works, "I was in a room, with an examination table. It was... full of blood. Body parts, everywhere. Not sure the species, there was no skin. Muscles, dissected, and bones visible. I wasn't afraid. This was normal, I've been here a lot. So much blood. I'm cleaning. Door was here. Salina came in."

Cryo doesn't smell of fear, her scents are minimal, absent, "Salina came in. What was I saying before? Fae don't glow unless it's a glamour, She doesn't use one, that's what she looks like. There were two of Her. She was looking at herself in the door. The second one made a motion, teleport. I don't know where. She, the first, the one remaining noticed I was watching and..."

Still no scent coming off her, no reaction of her body. Her eyes, pulse a little but even they know to stay slits. "I am to be punished for watching when I should have been cleaning. She commanded me to the examination table."

Cryosanthia stares straight ahead for a moment, almost zoning out again. Instead she looks down to her drawing of the layout of the room, adds some more details. Whatever she can recall from her vision.

GAME: Cryosanthia rolls profession/scribe: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls craft/painting: (12)+0: 12

Faranmidahn frowns, "No.. it was something she was -about- to say." she says grimly and SLAMS the door as hard as her tiny body can manage in frustration and then she turns to watch as Cryosanthia spins a yarn that threatens to choke her. She leans back against the closed portal, head lolled back as her eyes close and she tries to sheer the emotion from her awareness, just... listening to the scritching pencil and Cryo's words.

GAME: Faranmidahn rolls will: (20)+6: 26 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)

It hurts to listen to Cryosanthia's words. To know that she had been hurt so surely. Zeke knew it of course. She had been a slave once, and then made one again by this mistress. Knew it and yet... It makes him feel angry and useless to know that there is nothing he can do about it. He can not change a single pain. "Ssssh." He hushes her as she falls out of talking. "You do not need think of that. You remembered ssssomething important. Thisss one isss sssure of it. Here."

Zeke offers to take the drawing from her hands, to set it on the bedside table. "You are sssafe now. You are here with thisss one, and with Faran."

"I'm ok Zeke, I'm ok, it's..." Cryo sounds calm, almost happy, excited to successfully remember something. Have some tangible evidence, even if it's a rudimentary drawing that doesn't show much. Her notes are in another language, not draconic or tradespeak. She twitches for a second, staring, then shakes it off. "It takes me, but it doesn't hurt. The room smelled of so much fear, but I wasn't afraid. It was... normal."

"Oh Faran, come here, come away from the door. I'm all right now."

The white-scale exhales, "So there are two of Her. Then She might pass things to Herself. I don't know if it matters. In the Fernwood, I was trying to activate the ooze, the infection. Like a magic item, blindly. Then She showed up."

The picture is rudimentary, showing a table in the middle of a fairly open space. Along one wall to the right there seems to be another table with scribbled implements drawn on it. They're less distinct and the main focus of the picture is the doorway in which the general figure of a person is drawn. The picture shows the door as being nearly the same size as the person, which given the size of Salina when last seen would mean that Cryosanthia could not have easily fit through such a doorway.

Faranmidahn's eyes open at the sound of her name; cool, but alert and she moves with a driven grace toward the table to examine the drawing and set her mind at work, trying to decipher what Cryo's endured such a horrific memory to bring them. For the people, for her friends, she's been tasked with being smarter than they, while the enemy tasks her to be smarter than she. By Gilead, and Daeus, by every known God and forgotten star she means to be just that. Two of her. Hmmm. "Cryo." she says softly, in her own focus state, "When you saw them both, you entered the room one way. Was there another door for the twin to arrive? Did any objects actually pass between the two? Did the air move through the room or was it still?"

Only slightly mollified Zeke moves away from Cryosanthia and takes his seat on his stool once more. His tea is long gone cold, but he drinks it anyways to have something to do with himself as Faran questions Cryosanthia. He can think of nothing to ask. The questions loom large in his mind but they wont come out. He's glad of Faran, because she has plenty of them. Good, solid questions that he hopes will help determine what Cryosanthia remembered. There /must/ be some meaning behind there being two of them in her memory!

"I was in the room, cleaning, when She came in. Turned around to face back, and the second of Her appeared. The only magical effects I saw was the teleport. She didn't pass a thing to herself. I think it's the only door, I didn't remember all of the room. It was pretty low. I wonder if that's why I have the nice curve to my horns, from ducking under those sills all the time." Cryosanthia does her best to answer the questions, and struggles to recall more. Sadly the most dominant part of the memory is blood, then fear, then pain, making her unwilling to embrace it deeply.

She clasps her hands together, crosses her ankles. "So, with two of Her, perhaps each one has a tower? Which would mean perhaps many of me. Ezil may get his wish then. Could the second She be an enhanced Mirror Image of some sort, formed from Universal Magic the way the Ooze does, to have autonomy? There is more than one tower but they are different versions, so the same tower at different times, perhaps. What changes it? Is, perhaps Ezil would know, can you meet yourself in the Vast and not change your future, is fractured time somehow insulating cause from effect?"

Faranmidahn looks up to Cryo at that, gears turning, then she steps back from the drawing entirely massaging the inner corners of her eyes with one hand, "Perhaps multiple worlds, trying to align to her ideal..." she speculates softly, though she looks up at her friend at the mirror image speculation, "Perhaps some form of golem? Hmmmm... maybe not, it might explain the glow. I would have to look at a war golem to compare." She shakes her head and, "If I'd held the spell a few seconds longer I could have at least known the energies involved."

"Do not blame yourssself Faran, thisss one doubtsss that sshe would have allowed you to ssstudy her in sssuch a way." Zeke's voice is a calming balm to the network of questions he has no answers for. "Thisss one thinkss that it hass been a long day, and that Cryossanthia needsss her ressst sstill. We ssshould all to bed."

"Maybe She's stuck in the tower because it protects Her from outside influences, so the second is the one she makes that can teleport and interact with real time and it comes back and gives an update. Then She might look like a spell..." Cryosanthia yawns, opening her jaw wide and leaning back her head, "Has anyone touched Her to see if She is real. Oh, wait, the jar to Seldan. No matter."

The white-scale looks over at the blue-scale and thrumbles at him. Cryo smiles, "I did enjoy hearing your call. Sleep in the bed near me? Your scent will help."

"She may be solid, but not real." Faran replies thoughtfully, but, almost like Zeke's suggestion slapped the focus out of her, she has to stifle a yawn, and by the time she emerges from it, she seems like herself again, "I feel like there's something on the tip of my brain, but... I think you're right, we should get some sleep." Another yawn and a sleep, "Good night, friends!" and she turns to make her way to... wherever the temple let her sleep in her current capacity as their gopher.

Zeke rises politely to see Faran out of the room, waving to her as she leaves and then setting to cleaning the room so that it is ready to be rested in. He is embarrassed by Cyrosnathia's offer, a faint of it in the air, but Faran will never know that. The blue-scale wags his tail at Cryosanthia, shaking his head at her and closing the door. "Cryosanthia..."

-End