Naunet

What time?

It's a better theory and there's no evidence saying women don't lead Seeker tribes. Be at peace!

Antimony took her time walking back to her inn room, steps shuffling, hands clasped low at her waist and worrying over their joints. As the noises from the Quicksand's tavern dimmed, her ears and tail drooped further until the former sought into her hair and the latter dragged its tip across the floor. The Keeper's questions dogged her with a persistent worry, which merged unhappily with her keen isolation until she was just all around miserable. She needed to find Aijeen. She entered her room like this, head down, thoughts inward. As Antimony entered the room, a figure on the floor twitched upright. Sitting against the far wall, looking every bit as tired and troubled as Antimony appeared, Loughree's ears didn't even rise all the way up before falling against her dirty, disheveled hair. Her face was smudged with dirt, and dark circles had been carved beneath her eyes. The woman, broad and large for a miqo'te, was curled up with her knees against her chest, her muscular arms wrapping them. Her tail shivered and went limp, and she did not speak. Antimony took a few steps into her room before noticing anything amiss, and when she did notice the pale miqo'te opposite her, she barely had the will to react with more than a faint sound - hardly even surprised - and an upward knitting of her brow. She processed the whole situation rather admirably as far as Antimony went, still and quiet for only a minute before one ear twitched. Hands flexed around one another as her mouth dropped open, tried for words, failed. She frowned, closed her eyes, did her best to pull herself together and recalled her brief talk with a certain Duskwight. "You... are a very lucky woman," she finally managed. Loughree's gaze dropped to Antimony's hands. She lifted her tail and lay it down, but there was no other gesture. Then she looked back at Antimony. "I remember how I left last time. Is it okay that I'm here?" Was it okay... You murdered four people, Antimony wanted to accuse. Instead she pursed her lips until they ached. "That... is generally something one asks before entering," she sighed, shifted her gaze to one side, nervously adjusted her glasses. The frown was making the bruising along her nose and cheeks throb, so she stopped but didn't smile. "I... suppose you are looking for asylum." "I don't know." She lifted her gaze to Antimony, and blinked very slowly. "What do you mean, I'm lucky? I'm not." "You're lucky you're not in one of those Twelve-forsaken cells, or worse," the reply came a bit snappier than Antimony would have liked, but she was worn thin, her patience for trouble fraying rapidly. And what else would Loughree be doing here if not to cause trouble? Considering what she had done so far... Her ears found enough energy to snap back on her head, and she ducked her face slightly away as if to hide it from Antimony. She was silence for a time, and then she buried her face in the back of her knees and muttered something unintelligible. Antimony let out a sigh, locking the door behind her. "Megiddo spoke to me of what... you've done," she began cautiously. Loughree snapped her eyes up, gaze narrowing. Her tail lifted and shook, fuzzing out until it was thicker than both of her legs put together. "He's a liar! I haven’t done anything! How can you talk to him?" "He has been nothing but truthful to me." She was frowning again, but this time she ignored the ache it brought to her healing bones. This was too much. She didn't want to deal with this young woman's problems, not now. She felt horrible for thinking such, but she could barely hold herself together to go after Aijeen. Pressing her hands together to still their slight trembling, Antimony drew a careful breath. "I have no wish to condemn you, Miss Loughree. But you must understand..." Crossing her tail over her ankles, Loughree reach one hand down to grab it and pull it between her knees, up against her chest and wrapping it around her neck. She buried her face in the tufts of blonde fur that stuck out comically from her cuddled tail. She stayed like that, with her ears flat and her powerful muscles tensed, quiet. For several, long moments Antimony just watched the clearly upset woman. The sight of her, Loughree's body language, her few words, all made Antimony's chest ache, stirred instincts far too ingrained to ever shake, even if she wanted to. But... she couldn't. She just couldn't. Ears drooping, Antimony crossed the room to her bed - still broken, but at least useable. She eased herself down onto it with the care of one with far more years than even she, gave Loughree's profile a sad look. "I am tired," she murmured, and though she'd protested at Ulanan not long ago, Antimony found that now she truly was. "I will not remove you, but please... ah, just don't... do anything rash." After a long moment of unmoving silence, Loughree muttered, "Don't worry. I'm tired too." _________________________ After a few hours of sitting, unmoving, Loughree rose from the ground in sudden silence and walked to the room's bathroom, shutting it behind her. The door was not so thick that she could not be heard on the other side of it, crying loudly, though she likely thought herself inaudible. She was in the for maybe a half hour before emerging again, the dirt on her face streaked with smudged tears, dirty hair pouring over the dingy leather and frayed linens she wore. Instead of returning to her place on the wall, she collapsed on the floor alongside Antimony's bed. She didn't lie down or curl up or make any effort to get comfortable. She simply collapsed and lay there. Sleep had claimed Antimony rather quickly, despite - or perhaps because of - her prior stress. She did not hear Loughree's crying, or even when the young woman returned and collapsed near her bed. She woke instead on her own time, some minutes after Loughree had laid on the floor. It had not been a restful sleep, despite how much her body had demanded it, and she blinked blearily through crooked glasses for several seconds before both resolving the inn room and recalling that she was not alone. Several seconds more passed before she thought to search the room beyond what she could see in her immediate field of vision. Her body protested as she pushed herself up, as though she'd ran for hundreds of miles in a great migration before dropping to the bed though she'd done not much more than a tiny fraction of that, but her eyes settled quickly on the form beside her bed. Tail shifting to lay across her lap, Antimony felt her posture droop. "Speak of it, if you wish," she murmured at last, resigning herself both to the situation and her instinct to listen. To care. Despite it all. "What brought you here." Loughree wasn't asleep, though she'd willed herself to go to sleep, or to fall unconscious, or to die. She exhaled, "I don't know." Her tail shifted on the floor. Her ears and eyes were stationary, both pointing towards the ground in front of her. Her hands, pale fists, lay on either side of her head with her elbows out. "I think he took her away. I don't know how he..." Shifting so that her legs hung over the edge of the bed, Antimony looked down on the top of Loughree's blonde head. Her eyes felt impossibly heavy, her body and thoughts sluggish. But still her chest ached and she traced the younger woman's thoughts. "Her... the child," she whispered, held back a sigh. Did she truly have the energy to deal with another's problems? When it involved a child, and someone she had begun to know... Her ears hung low. "Have you thought perhaps to speak with him?" "I hunted." Loughree spoke without moving, her tone a hollow one. "I used to be good at hunting, in the Shroud. He moves quietly, in the shadows. But he stinks. I hunted him and found him near the Ossuary. I heard... screaming." Letting her eyes fall shut, Antimony closed her hands around the curve of her knees, focusing for once on the aching of her aging joints there. Screaming. "That... may not be unusual, given... what abominable dealings that place engages in," she murmured reluctantly. It occurred to her briefly that D'ahl had supposedly died near the Ossuary. It was an unpleasant thought. "No. People were dying. I was arrested for killing them, and then I was let go." Her ribs ached when she drew in a breath. Too much. It really was... "Who am I to believe... the man who has helped me from many a crisis, or the woman who..." She hesitated, struggled with the desire, the outright need to help the woman, to understand her. To guide her. "I'm sorry. This is all.." "You don't need to talk me through this." Loughree rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up to her chest. "I don't think I came here for that." Antimony watched the set of Loughree's ears and found herself asking despite herself, "Then why are you here?" "I don't know." The large woman reached up and took hold of her ears again, pulling on them. Her tail curled towards her face. "He took her away. I don't even know how he... How I'm... Why?" She shivered. "I don't know," Antimony murmured, and she truly didn't. She didn't know if Loughree was telling the truth. She didn't know what Megiddo may have done if she were. She didn't know what she could do to help. She didn't know how to help anyone, it seemed. Even her own daughters... Loughree was silent for a time, and then she muttered, "I don't know how to hold on to anything. Everything always falls apart. I tried to protect her and I couldn't. She cried when i sent her away but it didn't do any good. I don't even know if she's still alive or not." Antimony's hands clenched around her knees and struggled to breathe against a vice that suddenly wanted to clasp tight about her ribs. Loughree's words were familiar. Painfully so. "I... understand," she breathed out and couldn't find anything else for her to say for the moment. Pulling her tail against her face, hiding in the fur, Loughree muttered, "I tried waiting to feel something other than scared, or angry. And now I'm just cold. Maybe I was just looking for somewhere comfortable to freeze to death." Opening her mouth to speak, Antimony found that she knew no words to comfort. There had been no words for her, either, back then. Instead she just leaned forward and reached down to rest one nervous, uncertain hand on Loughree's shoulder, in silence. Loughree stared at the fur of her tail, the appendage shifting about but held stationary against her face. She was silent for a time, and then she said, "I saw something strange near the Ossuary. A monster made of shadow. He was watching it when I found him." Her chest chilled, an icy touch that spread to her shoulders and down her back. Antimony resisted a shiver. "Made of shadow," she echoed lowly, swallowed. The question of whether or not she believed Loughree had somehow fallen away during the minutes passed between them. The way the younger woman spoke rang with a certain degree of truth to Antimony that she automatically acknowledged, that stirred a certain deep-held fear. Her voice caught in her throat then, and when she tried to speak again, only a short, thin sound came out. A few breaths later, she managed, "Did you see... Aij--a... green-haired girl..?" "... I think. She was screaming." Loughree twisted her tail in her hands. "Some men heard and went to look. Maybe they were going to help. But he killed them. I tried... But I couldn't..." "Aijeen," Antimony murmured, her shoulders sagging. Screaming. She chose not to focus on Loughree's account that placed Megiddo as the true murderer of four men; if she was honest with herself, it didn't surprise her, given their past conversations, but she was far too emotionally tired to dwell on that and Loughree's worries and her daughters and a certain Tia's grief all at once. "She didn't mean..." she began, then stopped herself. The argument wasn't necessary with Loughree. She wanted to offer to help find the younger woman's child - opened her mouth to speak again almost without thought. But something stopped her, and it left her feeling horribly selfish. Still, perhaps she... "I could ask him." "Don't." Loughree twitched, fists tight, spine curling forward. "Don't ever talk to him." Antimony wanted to frown, but she only had the energy for a slight pursing of her lips. "... You should rest. I can get you some warm food, and you will feel... more centered." Not better; she knew there was very little that would make one feel better in these situations. Closing her eyes and shivering again, Loughree almost whispered. "I'm trying." She almost didn't trust her legs to hold her up when she pushed up from the bed, but the exhaustion was more mental than physical and so they did. Antimony stood next to Loughree for a few moments and then bent to give the woman's shoulder another, light squeeze before stepping away, towards the door. "I will see what I can do," she said quietly, opening it. The filthy woman remained unmoving on the ground, not acknowledging what Antimony had said to her or seeming to notice the touch. When nothing further came from Loughree, Antimony slipped back out through the door and shut it quietly behind her.

((Somewhat simultaneous to Falling off the Wagon, while D'hein and Illira are having their argument.)) *** Antimony had lowered her eyes when she saw D'hein approach Illira across the tavern. If she strained, she could pick out bits and pieces of their conversation, but that would be rude, so she did her best not to do such a thing. It would only bring her more frustration, after all. Turning her focus to the food sprawled across the table only exacerbated the issue, however. Though she felt worn from the string of recent events, a part of her had actually begun to settle into enjoying the thought of sharing a meal with friends - or... well, people who were close enough one could consider them friends. Certainly Ulanan counted as such. And Megiddo...? D'hein was a bit more complicated, but she did find herself feeling sympathetic towards the Tia, even if she was simultaneously resentful. But now she sat alone, and the suddenness of the situation, combined with the roller coaster of emotions prior to it, left her feeling the loss much more keenly than was perhaps reasonable. She was tired of being alone. Sinking back against her chair, Antimony's ears drooped and she poked at the partially eaten slab of meat on her plate, glanced towards the half a dozen other untouched plates, and then just frowned. "Menphina's greetings to you!" said a red robed man that seemed to materialize from just outside her field of view. He bent his body forward slightly in a bow and smiled, golden eyes staring at her. He straightened after a pause. "I hope you don't mind my intrusion, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with you." "Aah!" Antimony yelped, sitting up straight and rocking the chair back with the suddenness of her movement. Ears shifting back, her own green eyes darted towards the unfamiliar face, then towards where D'hein and Illira had been... conversing only to find the pair gone. Her tail curled up by her side as she returned her gaze to the strange man - a Keeper, she dumbly thought. "That is... an urgent... what?" Her ears shook, and then she sighed. "I apologize. You must have me confused with someone else. I've never met you before, so there could not possibly be anything to discuss." "I do get confused, but never so clearly!" the man chuckled, then shook his head as he realized that didn't make much sense. "But do not let that confuse -you-! Or...something like that. Let me introduce myself! I'm Qion'a! And you do not look like a witch of the deserts at all." Antimony's ears fell at the Keeper's words, her expression following the gesture as well. "Oh. I see." Her eyes dropped to her plate, and she was quiet for another moment before she let out a short, sudden huff. "I should hope I don't. It is not my name, nor should it ever be." "Of course not. I've seen witches, and they don't sit alone at tables overflowing with food. Which remind me, mind if I join you for a short while? I'm sure your past company would not mind, the charitable fellows!" Antimony furrowed her brow. Given how he'd referred to her, she wasn't certain she felt up to entertaining this Keeper fellow, Qion'a. His words carried a great deal of weighty implications, many of which sought to send her off hiding within her inn room, never to return. But then, perhaps any company was better than none, in these dire times? Letting out another sigh, the older miqo'te gave a slight nod towards the chair D'hein had recently vacated. She hesitated, considering. "... Antimony Jhanhi, is my name," she offered after another moment and tried not to let her somber resignation to the situation show too much. "Excellent! Menphina favors those who do not hide their names." said the jolly man, taking a seat. He lost no time to select a plate and start taking small careful bites out of it, whatever it was. He didn't seem to be paying much attention to what it was. "We should speak about the inevitable, now. I heard you are mother to a certain person called D'aijeen. Am I right?" She felt as though someone had punched her in the gut. Though she'd half been expecting a question along a similar vein, the bluntness of it left Antimony breathless. For several seconds following Qion'a's words, she just sagged in her chair, tail twisting in distress by one leg. Finally she managed a low, "I don't know who you are or how you came to know such things." Qion'a munched on his newfound meal. Some kind of vegetable, he figured. "Let's remedy that! I'm Qion'a, which I said already, and one of my brothers was uselessly murdered." His tone was bitter in the last part. He quickly recovered to smile again. A weak smile. "Not by your daughter, though! She's just... coincidentally related." "I... what?" Antimony paled and dropped the fork she'd forgotten she had still held. More death... why was there always more death? And connected to Aijeen... She blinked, furrowed her brow deeply, and felt something slam down around her thoughts. "... No. You must be mistaken. Aijeen is not associated with... Keepers!" He raised an eyebrow, and then dropped it. Instead, he raised both hands and held them open to the woman. "Oh, no! I don't mean she knew my brother, or any other victim! Or any other Keeper, for that matter. I meant that it's a coincidence that she seems involved in anything!" The man tilted his head, squinting at his plate. What was he eating? He didn't know, and was starting to doubt it had been a wise idea. "Ah..." A confused noise caught in her throat as her tail tried to curl up into some impossible knot. "I'm sorry. I... still don't understand... how you know of Aijeen, or how she could possibly... You /must/ be mistaken!" "Well, I'll find out when I can actually speak with her." the man nodded. He leant forward, placing his elbows on the table and crossing his arms over it. "What's her full name, though? Maybe I -am- mistaken!" Antimony frowned then, pressing her lips together. "I'm not going to discuss my daughter with you until you explain better who you are and why you think she is connected to... anything so horrible." A pause, fidgeting. "... And how you found me." "That is fair enough." the man nodded again. "I'm assisting the authorities in my quality of Conjurer and voidsent expert. One of the murders was likely made by one, and your daughter might have seen it. We need to talk to her to find out what kind of creature we are dealing with." "V-voidsent," Antimony echoed faintly, leaning back into her chair. Murders. Was this Keeper talking about... no, it couldn't possibly. It would be too much of a coincidence... Had she ever really believed in coincidence, though? Pressing her hands against her lap to hide their shaking, Antimony found it difficult to meet Qion'a's gaze. Her heart hammered around words she'd exchanged - bitter, angry words - with D'hein. Of Aijeen. And voidsent. The girl's tendency towards dark magic... She felt suddenly ill, perhaps even looked it. "I... may know of it," she managed weakly. "But Aijeen would never have deliberately tried to hurt anyone with... it." The same argument as she'd had with D'hein. She wondered if Qion'a would also try and counter it, wondered if she even still believed herself. "I do not believe your daughter is the one who summoned it." the man said, sounding strangely reassuring. "But you seem to think otherwise. What do you know?" "Aah, not--only that it is some terrible magic best left forgotten," Antimony insisted quickly, worried eyes blinking. She added in a hurry, "But it's as you say. I'm certain Aijeen had nothing to do with it." She wasn't. In fact, if she dug deep enough, she was quite certain Aijeen - or at least that awful bone beast - had quite a lot to do with D'ahl's death. But there was no way she could bring herself to wholly admit to such a thing aloud. "Anything you can tell me about this could be useful." the man said, leaning back and letting his arms fall to the sides. He smiled again. "Why don't you just speak me of your daughter? Forget about what we were discussing, and just tell me about her. Anything you like! Starting with her full name, for example, and how you decided to name her that! It's something that gets the happy thoughts rolling." "I don't want you bothering my girl with such things," Antimony shook her head hard, ears quivering with a nervous energy. "I won't bother her with her past. It's just field knowledge." the man tried to explain. "If she meddled with that kind of magic, it is best to know how. I know: I'm the expert, after all!" He added a chuckle at the end to show how jolly he was. "An expert on... voidsent. That seems like a..." She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. It seemed like a very dangerous thing to be, and not just for one's own self. Antimony grimaced, curled her fingers into the thick cloth of her robe, tried to find something calming to think of, or look at, or listen to, or smell. Ul'dah was not very accommodating to such efforts, however, least of all the Quicksand. So she fidgeted, felt her stomach twisting with an old ache. "D'a.. Ai..." She shut her eyes briefly, then, "K'aijeen Th... Thalen." Her voice shook only slightly. "Ah! That's the..." Qion'a paused as if he had been interrupted, but he kept smiling. His head shifted to a side and he raised one hand to rub a twitching ear before straightening himself again. "I'm afraid I'm not very knowledgeable about Seeker tribes. How did you choose the name?" The question brought visible confusion to Antimony's features, slackening the anxious worry for a split second. "We take the name of the nunh who fathered us." A pause, a confused blink. "I don't see how that's relevant." Qion'a looked away to a side of the table, his ear twitching again. "I'm sorry, I must be suffering of a slight cultural confusion." he said. "But if you want to tell me something you consider relevant...then I'm all ears!" And so he smiled again. "Relevant to... voidsent?" Antimony fought back a shudder. "I... know only that Aijeen once used a book to... to..." Her brow furrowed and she gave Qion'a a firm, if also pleading, desperate look. "You are not to pester Aijeen with this! She's already distressed enough, so I won't stand for it." "I see. Well, I will respect your wishes and not bother her about this matter, if I do find her." The Keeper stood up, still smiling. "And I think I have bothered you enough about this. I ask you to apologize me! It is the...sad reality of my job. Pestering people about uncomfortable things. But you have been very helpful! I thank you for that and will take my leave!" He paused. "Unless you wish me to stay to keep you company while your friends come back." he added, looking at the plate of food he had claimed before. Opening her mouth, Antimony nearly accepted that offer, and then felt immediately shamed. Was she really so desperate for some form of companionship that she'd turn to someone who was an expert in voidsent? "See... see that you do. Ah, leave her be, that is." She also wasn't entirely certain how much help she really had been - none that she could see, but if it was enough to keep him from bothering her daughter... "It was a pleasure talking with you," she fumbled automatically, stood, bowed her head towards the Keeper. "I should perhaps, ah, rest. Yes. But, ah, you're welcome to the food." Qion'a let out a surprised "Oh!" at those words. He was actually taken by surprise by something she had said, but he never clarified. Instead, he recovered his friendly grin and bowed his head. "That's most considerate of you! Menphina will surely bless you with a fine rest!" "Menphina." Antimony bit back a grimace. "...Yes. Well. Ah. Best of luck." She stepped away from the table then, with its still impossibly large amount of food and turned to begin her way towards her room. The man sat back on the table and made a point to finish the meal on his plate, even though he couldn't really identify what it was.

Super cute, Clover and Illira! I made them last night but I didn't wanna overload with images... But here's K'thalen! Being a sly dog who gets all the ladies. No kitty one, because I really wasn't happy with the options in that game. I like the rest though, especially the bunny!

Though I cancelled my sub, I still have some 100 days left on it, so I am available to participate in in-game things. I've a great deal of experience leading and am quite comfortable with T5. I'm available pretty much any time. WHM, for reference. Antimony Jhanhi.

Usually the former. Very, very rarely the latter. I'm more apt to just deal with the reality of the injury and how it may affect the rp than try and meta-game it out of existence. It may not be the roleplay initially expected, but what fun is roleplay that goes as expected? For example - in TERA, I've had to deal with one of my character losing pretty much all function in their arm. I had initially thought she'd find healing at some point, but enough time passed that I eventually had to accept that it's irreversible damage. And well, that's just how the cookie crumbles. As for your other question, I utilize magic healing as appropriate for the universe and for the characters involved. It depends entirely on whether or not the characters know how to heal magically, or have access to someone who does, can afford it, whether or not something comes up that unexpectedly diverts them, how powerful magical healing is or can be in the universe, how powerful the particular magical healer they see may be, and so on. I value realism above expediency in most matters of roleplay, save time - where I'm perfectly willing to either time skip or handwave a few real life weeks as having been only a few RP days, because it's impossible to RP a one-to-one ratio of time most of the time.

*twitch* I both love and hate that I noticed this thread... I had only recently gotten over my chibi maker addiction. D: So, uh. Here's Anti... As a chibi, back when I was going nuts with creating EVERY CHARACTER EVER IN ALL THE UNIVERSES: And all the others...

Where I roleplay is determined entirely by where the story takes me and my fellow writers - be it deep in the Sagolii, within the stifling walls of Ul'dah, across the inappropriately named Drybone, wandering the noisome swamp-forest of the Shroud, tucked into a cave, braving frozen Coerthas, on the white stone cliffs of Limsa, an orangery in La Noscea, or anywhere else.

Wikis need updating...? I just used it as a character biography.

When I played the game... I pretty much always gave commendations to one of the dps (either a random pick or based on performance), because I know they're statistically going to be less likely in other parties to get commendations. And I guess I'm a filthy socialist or something.

For a certain special someone's RP, I'd be entertained by a seeker/keeper/duskwight mix. Not that it actually happened in the RP, but it would have been highly amusing...

D'hein Tia -- or was he Nunh now? He hadn't been payingattention at the party, but now that he thought about it he did make appearance there, so may technically be... Well, regardless... D'hein Nunh-until-someone-told-him-otherwise-because-hey-why-notthought that the Quicksand was an appropriate name for the place that here was going, as the weight of his legs and feet made him feel like the streets were made of clinging sand. He would not admit to an inability to sleep, or maybe he would if asked, as he thought he had become unpredictable since D'ahl's death. He did not feel psychologically stable, and he was unusually numb. Taking a deep breath as he prepared to climb the steps,D'hein Nunh-as-far-as-anyone-could-say forced himself to stand straight and lift his shoulders, putting his hands on his hips. Dodoes do not plod, no matter how little sleep they've had or how tragic their lot. As heavy as his ears and eyelids were, he forced them to open and rise. One of his ears was a laggard, but he failed to notice. He looked back on Antimony, having said nothing for theentirety of the walk back from the desert. "I apologize for my dire behavior. If I've said anything offensive, I pray you forgive me as I am not myself. If I've said anything heartfelt and sensitive, I pray you'll see it as my being charmingly vulnerable and unusually honest." This city really was horribly filthy, Antimony thought asthey returned to Ul'dah's walls and approached the Quicksand - and not just in appearance. Its very spirit was stained, and it seemed to stain everyone who spent time within it. She wondered if that was why D'ahl had behaved as she did, why all the Dodos behaved the way they did. Were they just victims of Ul'dah's inescapable corruption? Antimony watched the back of D'hein's head as they walkedand was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't catch most of his words, or really notice he'd stopped. She managed to pull herself short before colliding, however, and then blinked rapidly at him. "Ah, well..." Her lips pursed. Quickly, respond! "Don't... worry about such things." One side of his lips curled upwards, in more bemusement thanhumor. "If you say so." His tail swung idly as he turned away, brushing her arm, though he failed to notice. He began up the steps to head inside. "Is there a place where she will look for you?" Antimony fidgeted a bit at the bottom of the stairs, earstwitching about, before following hurriedly. "Perhaps... we've had meals in the main hall a number of times?" "Perhaps you have? Where else might you have hadthem?" She scratched at one ear, then stilled her hand by foldingit deliberately over D'ahl's journal. "Ah, well... my room, I suppose." D'hein Nunh-probably-but-maybe-not turned to face her,walking backwards up the stairs. He spread his arms, "So there are two possible locations. Does she only find you at places you've shared meals? How then did she find you in the first place, before you'd ever shared any meals?" His heal hit a step and he fell backwards, but turned and took the last few steps like nothing had happened. then they were going inside. Antimony sputtered a bit as D'hein tripped, then twisted hertail in thought. "Of course those aren't the only... That is, we've met at other... Well, she found me on a bench outside the Quicksand. And in the courtyard near the Drowning Wench in Limsa. And at the fountain here in Ul'dah. And at the Arcanists' Guild. And at Black Br.. er, well that one doesn't matter. And..." She trailed off, wringing her hands. "None of those are very likely, though!" As soon as they entered, the first thing they saw was allthe adventurers that always crowded the tavern. The second thing, though, might have been a small blond figure sitting in the closest table to the entrance, wearing white, with a white hat as big as its owner resting on the table right next to a large plate of meat with a side serving of olives. Or, rather, olives with a side serving of olives with some meat below it. D'hein didn’t see the figure. He smelled the olives, but thoughtthem unpleasant and turned away from them with a shiver of his tail. "Well if we chose to wait in your inn room at least we could take a nap. It's difficult to know to rest during the hard parts of life, but important." Her ears laid back as she cleared her throat, eyes shiftingaway from D'hein in part because of the Tia-turned-Nunh'ssuggestion and in part to scan the tavern's open seating area. She, too, caught the scent of olives almost immediately, but they were happily familiar, so she let her eyes follow it to the white-robed figure. A faint, relieved smile crossed her face. "Ulanan!" Lifting one arm to wave it in greeting, she turned to angle towards the woman, flicking her tail at D'hein in gesture. The lalafell answered by raising one hand and waving itslightly, smiling but saying nothing as her mouth was busy munching on her meal. She gestured to the empty chairs around her table. The Nunh-like Tia continued walking, stretching his armshigh to keep himself awake. "I haven't forgotten about Ulanan. We may just have to hope she has not forgotten about you, though." Antimony halted, grimaced in a way that made her bruisedface ache, spun towards him, "D'hein, she is here!" Ulanan stared between them, swallowed and, understandingthey were looking for her, she said out loud: "Hello, Antimony!" D'hein paused. One ear twitched, and then the other. He backpedaledthree steps and then spun on his toes, spreading his arms dramatically and whacking some poor lalafell in the ear. The tiny person dashed off as though he'd done something wrong; maybe he was a pickpocket or something. D'hein didn't notice what he'd done. "Of course she's here." he could only musterenough energy for half a grin. "She's always present when we have need of her most." "Yes, it's a wonder." Antimony sighed, brushedsome hair from her face, and then turned to continue over towards Ulanan. There was a brief worry over whether or not the lalafell would ask about her face, but there wasn't really much to be done about it. She would just distract her. "Ulanan," she walked up to the much smaller woman. "I never got to ask after you when you left after... Aijeen." "I lost her not long after leaving the commune."came the answer, flat in tone. "Are you alright? You both look...tired." she asked with some diplomacy. "There have been some unfortunate events." D'heinapproached the table that Ulanan occupied. "Aijeen killed D'ahl that night. Are we sitting?" He dropped himself into a chair. Antimony winced. "We haven't yet--" She cut offher protest, though, not wishing to restart that particular argument, and then just furrowed her brow at Ulanan. "You are fine, though? I worried for you, when I heard what happened." Ulanan stopped all movements for about three seconds,holding a handful of olives in her hand. "Yes, I am." she answered, glancing at her food. Then she looked at the man, letting her head drop slightly. "I'm sorry, D'hein." His mouth opened to respond, but D'hein found an absence ofwords. Instead of letting it hang vapidly open, he clicked it shut. His mane of blonde hair shook as he simply nodded back and turned his gaze to his shoes. "I..." Antimony hesitated, fidgeted with the bookin her hands, and then sighed, eyes shifting at a downward angle towards D'hein. "Sit, and we can get something to eat." There was another pause, then towards Ulanan, "I suppose... you've no knowledge as to where Aijeen has fled to?" She shook her head. "No." There was a pause as sheate another olive. "But K'airos went to Horizon in a rented chocobo and later left towards Vesper Bay on foot." One of D'hein's ears twitched, though his expression didn'tchange. He leaned an elbow on the table and closed his eyes. "I suppose we can expect a negative response from Drybone, then." Antimony's own ears drooped to either side, furrowed browdeepening. "Vesper... Vesper Bay?" Worry leaked into her voice. "Why?" Another handful of olives got in the way of Ulanan's speech,though she stopped chewing to roll them to her right cheek. "Nobody there saw any Miqo'te Brass Blades arriving when I searched for her there." She found that way of speaking very unlady-like, so she swallowed. "She either got into town without the uniform, went south to Crescent Cove or set up a camp somewhere along the way to wait for D'aijeen." "They left, when?" D'hein leaned forward, shookhis head, glanced around. "We need to get food." "And why?" Antimony murmured again, earsshivering. "The chocobo keeper wasn't very precise about the time,but it was sometime before meeting in the commune." the lalafell replied. Then she shrugged. "I don't know why. K'airos was crying loudly when she rented the transport, and that was the only reason the keeper could identify her." "Crying. Excellent." He massaged his forehead."But that was before Aijeen had cause to be upset about anything, wasn't it? This is all stemming from her fighting with D'ahl... We need to get food." Ulanan's offer was inevitable. "Olives?" Ulanan's words only served to further distress Antimony."Crying," she repeated. And she could do nothing to assuage it here... The thought of her daughter hurting made her heart wrench. She swallowed. "Is there... Aijeen is with her surely... aah, we must go to her immediately!" "No," D'hein frowned. "As I just said, weneed food. You can't care for anyone if you don't care for yourself. That is simplicity itself." He flicked his eyes to Ulanan. "And, no. Olives will not fill our bellies. We need actual, honest food." "I think they are perfectly honest." Megiddoreached over Ulanan's shoulder and plucked an olive from the pile. The old man was particularly dilapidated. "Thank you, Ulanan." The lalafell didn't have time to protest to D'hein's words,and then barely had time to shake and look behind her with a stabbing glare. Antimony flinched, performing some strange backwardstwitch-hop, her tail fuzzing out, at Megiddo's unexpected entrance. "That--they--olives are... Where did you come from??" Megiddo gestured in a general unspecific direction,"Oh, somewhere over there." D'hein just groaned at the man's presence. Ulanan frowned. "Who taught you to intrude rudely atother people's conversations?" The frown was followed with some squinting and smiling. "Wait, this is actually great! You can go keep an eye on K'airos while these two rest." "What? No, I've rested!" Antimony protested."Now I can't speak for D'hein, of course, but... I can't just sit by while something is upsetting Airos, and while Aijeen is still missing...!" Megiddo frowned at Ulanan. "And I suppose you have away to get me to Crescent Cove in the time it takes for two Miqo'te to take a nap? I find it unlikely." And then, to Antimony, he said, "The more problematic of your two daughters has gone to Crescent Cove as well. At least, she left for the Silver Bazaar, which has a ferry going that way, if I remember correctly." Eyes widening, Antimony lashed her tail about behind her,whacking the chair D'hein sat in. "Then you... that... Ah, thank you, Megiddo! You are always such an incredible help to me, I don't..." She spun on D'hein. "There is no telling how long she'll remain there!" Ulanan turned around and looked at the Duskwight as if hehad just personally insulted all of her family at once. Then she turned back at her plate, huffing. "Don't act as if you didn't know what an aetheryte is, or as if you didn't have the wealth to pay the fees." Much calmer, she looked at the two Miqo'te. "CrescentCove only has two exits. Meggido and me will be enough to cover both. One or the other will eventually run into them if they leave." Finally, D'hein spoke up. "Old man, I suppose the firstperson you told about this was that demented roegadyn friend of yours?" "No. She threatened Antimony's child, and so has notbeen informed. However, I'm afraid that my skills for observation are matched only by my necessity for inaction. I cannot help in the way that Ulanan imagines, for you see, I am currently incarcerated." "Of course you are." D'hein hid his face behindone hand again. Antimony twisted back to Megiddo, blinking in confusion."Incarcerated? But you're here." "It's jargon for 'I should be in prison but I'mactually not'." Ulanan explained with a huff. Her tiny arms crossed over each other and rested over the table. "Did you hire him to look for D'aijeen?" she asked D'hein. D'hein lifted his gaze to Ulanan, sounding offended, "Iam well above employing the homeless to search for my daughter! What kind of terrible parents must you have had!" The Duskwight ignored the exchange between the two,answering Antimony instead. "I took your chiding regarding my granddaughter to heart and have made myself helpful. She killed four men yesterday morning and was arrested. Therefore, I turned myself in for the crime, securing her release. Theoretically, I am currently in jail. Though I confess I am wandering a bit." Antimony's mouth dropped slightly, ears shifting back."Oh," she murmured. "Why is everyone..." Her tail shivered and then she dropped her gaze. "That was very... kind of you. But Miss Loughree? She killed... ah. This whole city bears a terrible curse!" Ignoring Antimony's outburst towards the city, Ulananoffered an alternative. "You need to rest. Do you still have that Agency linkpearl? If D'hein can lend me one, I can go to the Cove from Horizon right now and keep you informed. Will that tranquilize you enough to rest?" Still glaring, D'hein growled, "I'm not sure I want youaround Aijeen considering what you did to D'ahl." One of his eyes was flat on his head, both twitching. "That kind of violence is exactly what started all this." Ulanan didn't waste time to growl back, except hers was amuch higher, pathetic pitch coming from a tiny frame. "I wasn't asking you." "IF!" Antimony shouted very suddenly, throwing herarms up between the two, one hand still clutching the journal. She paused, cleared her throat, shrunk a bit and repeated, "If... everyone can stop killing--or... talking about killing.. or thinking about killing, or hurting or--just stop, for more than half a second! I am... going to get D'hein some food." She didn't wait for a response, giving a distressed huff and spinning on her heel to hurry towards the bar. Watching Antimony retreat with wide-eyes, D'hein spun onUlanan and said, "That's no way to talk to a woman! You're much too rough with her! Attacking people all the time, bringing violence into her family." Ulanan threw her hands to the airs "Who suggestedviolence!" she asked, though it was more of an exclamation. She followed this by pointing at him rudely. "Maybe you forgot that D'ahl threw a dagger at her. Maybe you also forgot you stood uselessly while she had all the intention to murder her." D'hein slammed his hands on the table and stood to his fullheight. "D'ahl intended no such thing! If she wanted her dead, she would be dead! D'ahl would never murder someone undeservedly!" Taking another olive and stepping back, Megiddo watched theexchange with mild interest before turning to follow Antimony. Antimony's tail bristled as she wove her way through themild crowd. She caught D'hein's shouting, his words setting her ears flat against her head, but she didn't alter course. Once at the bar, she waited for some ambitious patron to finish his drink order, and tried not to think of K'airos crying, or D'aijeen killing anyone, or Loughree killing anyone, or D'hein defending D'ahl's attack on her, or any such thing. Ulanan also stood up, but she did so on her chair and with ajump. Her feet stomped on the chair in imitation of the man's slam. "It was a dagger! She threw a dagger. Not a slap to the face. Not mean words. A dagger!" She jumped again, thistime to the floor. Another stomp accompanied her. It was louder this time. "I won't sit here while you justify D'ahl's action. I'm sorry she's gone, but her actions weren't justified." She stood on her toes and swept her arm to take her huge hat with her. In the same movement, it was on her head. "Have a good day!" and she walked off to followMegiddo. Or perhaps to follow Antimony. D'hein shook his head, dumbfounded. "How in the sevenhells am I supposed to have a good day? Are you paying any attention to what's going on at all?" Megiddo ghosted behind Antimony, his small footsteps andunsteady balance allowing him to keep up with her against all reason. After she had paused for a time at the bar, he ventured, "My condolences for your experiences. But days such as these do pass." Antimony jumped for the second of Megiddo's appearances thatafternoon, then sighed. "I would believe that, I think, if these days did not seem to happen with increasing frequency." Ulanan threw some words at D'hein while she left him behind"It's a manner of speech. And I'm still sorry about this!" She zig-zagged between the patrons and usuals of theQuicksand before reaching the other two, walking past the Duskwight and standing next to Antimony. Looking up, she wasted little time in speaking. "I'm sorry," she started. "I did not intend to harm anyone. I just wanted to help." "Even when helpful, violence is regrettable. It doesnot mean that you should regret it." Megiddo wedged himself between two patrons so he could relax against the bar. The patrons seemed put off by the sudden intrusion of the filthy man, and vacated their seats. The Duskwight gestured to them, "Perhaps you should sit." Antimony spared the lalafell a brief, anxious glance beforereturning her attention to the bartender. "I'm fine, thank you," she murmured to Megiddo. "This should only take a moment." "D'hein is currently a sad man." Ulanan said,looking back towards where she left him. All she saw were many legs of tall people. "I still offer myself to go ahead to Crescent Cove while the two of you rest. I can use the aetherytes to come and go if they rest at Horizon or if they decide to come back to Ul'dah. Or to Drybone." A pause. Then she added: "That way we won't losethem." Megiddo stood where he was, his eyes half-lidded and staringat nothing, listening. D'hein evidently had remained at the table. Resting the journal on the bartop, and her hands on top ofthe journal, Antimony leaned forward slightly, frowning. "I... suppose I can't object." Her ears shifted out, tail curling against one leg. "That Airos was so upset, over... I can't fathom, but I must get to both of them as quickly as possible." She hesitated, glanced towards Ulanan. "Can you... take people along with you on the aetherytes?" "No, that's not possible." she shook her head."You'd need to be attuned to Horizon's aetheryte. And even then it isn't that close to Crescent Cove. So make sure to rest. I'll let you know if they move." "In the meantime," Megiddo spoke with a quietbreath, but the grating of his voice made it audible. "Antimony, if you see my granddaughter, be considerate. She is in a bit of a spiral, I'm sure you can imagine." "Considerate," Antimony echoed, lifted her handdistractedly as the bartender finished with his ambitious patron. Considerate of a woman who had murdered four people? She'd tried to support Loughree when the young woman was troubled, but this... She felt herself deflate as the bartender approached. When he asked what she'd like, she found herself unable to settle and so, in rush of anxiety and a wish to just make things better again, hastily ordered a bit of everything. She could share it with Ulanan and Megiddo, if need be, shethought faintly. "I... worry what drove her to such acts," shefinally managed, after the bartender had left looking bewildered. "I wonder if she actually did anything." Ulananpondered. "Worry and wonder." Megiddo stood away from thebar, looking sideways at the two. "These are the proper emotions. Worry and wonder are what she would need. That you feel such is why I am confident asking you thus." His shifted her head away, greasy hair laying over his features. "I need to return to my cell before my absence is discovered." Antimony really wasn't sure what to make of Megiddo'simplications - arrested for murders he didn't commit, somehow sneaking out to walk the streets as though he were on a midsummer stroll. Still, she had to admire the old man for what he'd done, even if thinking about Loughree now left her stomach churning. "I... will do what I can for her," she muttered, bowing her head. Ulanan tipped her hat in no particular direction. "Ishould go, too." she said. Afterwards, she added a confident smile and looked at the woman. "Don't worry! I'm sure K'airos was just crying over fighting with her boyfriend or something like that. I'll let you know where they are!" Antimony looked unhappy at the prospect of letting Ulanan goon without her, but her protests would continue to fall on deaf ears she knew, and there wasn't much else she could do. Silently she vowed to make haste to Crescent Cove as soon as possible, and then just forced a smile to first Megiddo and then Ulanan. With a smirk on his placid features, Megiddo walked ontowards the exit. "I wish you better luck, Antimony. And Ulanan, I recommend you be more on the cautious side than the blunt side. But you will do as you will. Ulanan huffed, walking towards the exit with him."People need to stop thinking I'm blunt. I'm not!" She stopped halfway to turn around and head towards another, different exit. Good thing the Quicksand had three. "Actually, it's best if I leave that way. Goodbye!"

I'm just happy I can leave the game with a positive taste in my mouth. Was very happy to hear of the decision regarding in-game marriages. One more victory.

"I would recommend the ritual be done outside the city's walls," Antimony spoke somberly, looking down at the small pouch of fragrant sage and simple bone necklace she intended to repurpose that sat in the palm of her hand. She had kept largely silent as they retrieved the items, the words spoken between them and towards the Dodo tribe weighing heavy in the air. Shifting her tail in small curves, Antimony glanced sideways at the Tia. "The Dodos have a burial ground in Thanalan. Where she should have been sent in the first place." D'hein muttered, his voice nearly silent. One of his ears hung tiredly down the side of his head, matching the sagging of his eyes and lips. His other ear, restless, twitched about like it was listening for something. As though that one ear of D'hein's thought it would be able to hear the moment the return missive from Drybone reached Ul'dah. The Brass Blades in the city did not know what had become of K'airos, so odds were those in Drybone would send word of her return. "If that's what you wish." Closing her hand around the items, Antimony looked north along the Sapphire Avenue Exchange, past the anonymous crowds that filled the broad street. Her ears shifted back and forth as she began to walk, in small, uncertain gestures. When she spoke again, it was with some reluctance, "Do you... expect to return to the commune?" "Yes, that's what I wish. It's where her son's ashes are. Despite the fact that the previous Nunh attempted to conceal his body as well." D'hein ignored Antimony's question, taking off in long strides that threatened to surpass the woman or lose her in the crowd. "Their souls should rest together. One day my soul will rest there, too." "All spirits may rest together, so long as they are guided through the fire properly," the words slid across her tongue without thought, as familiar as breathing, and yet they left Antimony with an uncomfortable weight in her gut. She did not think her own forsaking the Twelve should alter her ability to conduct the souls of the dead, but she couldn't shake an uncertainty, and a touch of bitterness. She hurried a bit to keep up with D'hein, frowning briefly at his back as they approached the Gate of Nald. As he walked, his tail swung behind him, occasionally whacking people that he walked past. A lalafell took it to the face and objected loudly, but D'hein was well on his way before he had a chance to notice. "Not everyone believes as you do." "Yet you're accepting my help." Her hand tightened around the pouch and the necklace. Even contained, the scent of sage reached her nose, and it brought with it a wealth of memories long ingrained. She thought then of the last time she'd gotten into a spiritual argument, and how it had not ended well, and sighed. "Regardless, what's important is her spirit is shown the respect her body was not." Even if her body in life had been a rather distasteful woman. None of that mattered in death. "Which is why I'm accepting your help." The gate of Nald loomed above them. D'hein did not slow down as he broke from the Sapphire Lane crowds. "Our Elders are bureaucrats. They swear by Nald'Thal. The Dodos forget their spirituality until someone dies." A towering roegadyn merchant, carrying a crate that was likely larger than her, blocked Antimony's path for a few seconds, long enough that after she'd extricated herself from the crowd, she had to trot to catch up with D'hein. The constant, intently quick pace was beginning to wear on her, but she stifled the urge to pant as she came up alongside the Tia once more. She was quiet for a time as she considered D'hein's words, and how starkly different the Dodos were from the family she'd long left behind. Every moment of a Hipparion's life was steeped in the blessings of Azeyma and the wisdom of their Elders. It had been almost impossible for Antimony to imagine a life led otherwise - until she'd forced herself to do just that. The woman let out a short sigh as they passed under the massive Gate of Nald. "I will need fire. Please keep an eye out for tinder and wood." "I have fire. Unless your rites forbid magical flame." D'hein's words brought an unexpected twist in her chest, and her steps slowed a moment unconsciously. There would be no firedancer for this rite, she thought bitterly, and tried to ignore a returned ache of loss. The one responsible for such things had left, returned to the tribe, and she had no right to want to stop him. "... That will be fine," she spoke after a moment and picked her pace back up once more. "Then we don't need to worry about wood and tinder." In his purposeful haste, D'hein did not notice Antimony's hesitation. He gave no glances towards the height of the gate, nor the people around him. He didn't appear to look at anything, as though his eyes had shut to all light. The Tia stomped out of the city like a blind giant that had memorized the way, curving west once out of the city. At this point, Antimony let him lead the way, as the Tia would know the location of the burial ground - a strange concept to her, burying the dead all in one place; it didn't seem healthy - better than she. When nothing but silence passed between them for a time, Antimony thought to try her earlier question again, "Do you intend to return to the commune after this?" Following a narrow path up a hill, the only easily-walked route between the rocks, D'hein paused a half an instant to glance at Antimony, and then continued onward. "Eventually. I don't think I want to be there right now." "Ah." She wasn't certain if she should feel relieved or disappointed - relieved that he hadn't made the same terrible decision she had years ago, disappointed that... he hadn't made the same decision? She chewed on her lower lip as she worked her way up the hill, joints beginning to protest in uncomfortable ways. At the top, she set one hand against a tall rock and paused a moment to rest her weight there. D'hein as well paused at the top, finally waiting for Antimony. He stood with his arms over his chest, scowling at a flat rise not far off where a number of carved pillars were set in a broad circle. The ground there was paved with stone, though sand had blown in and covered it, and there were ornate blocks that might be sarcophagi or the doors to underground crypts, if such a thing was the practice of the Dodoes. They could also just be for decoration. "I say that because I still think of it as home." He looked back towards Antimony. "I think of it like that, but I don't feel it. The place feels empty to me. The people feel empty. D'edy won't produce children, but do I even care if they do not have a Nunh?" She'd caught her breath quickly at least, though her limbs still expressed their displeasure at the unexpected hike and climb, and Antimony had to wonder when she'd gotten to feeling so old. Lifting her head to meet D'hein's gaze, she pressed her lips together, shifted her ears back and low to the sides of her head, then looked away, towards the stones a short distance off. "The tribe lost its meaning to me when Tha--they did not return from the Calamity." Her words came slowly, almost unwilling, things she'd never wholly spoken. "The family I knew was gone. It didn't matter that I would be leaving them without a shaman, without a spiritual guide. Even... even with so many of them still..." She pushed away from the rock, unable to fully voice that particular shame. The point was that, "I understand. Perhaps you will care later. Perhaps not." It was a shame that Antimony had waited until now to say anything meaningful about her past. Had D'ahl still been alive, D'aijeen and K'airos close at hand, D'hein might have taken the thread gently, drawing on it and smoothing it out as he went. He might've cared to smooth her. But it was like his capacity for empathy had been thrown out along with D'ahl's mutilated corpse. He didn't care anymore for the game of flattering anyone. He didn't care where Antimony had come from, nor that she would still exist tomorrow. He didn't care. He knew he should, though. Maybe if he was just able to mourn D'ahl like a civilized person, he could get past this. And past it to what? What does civilized grief even look like? He'd never seen it. He'd learned how to mourn by watching D'ahl mourn for her son, a thing she had never done. She'd chosen instead to replace him. The Tia watched Antimony move, like an older, weaker version of D'ahl in costume as D'aijeen's mother. If he had any faith in Azeyma at all, believed that Althyk had so much as a shred of power, he might think that Antimony's similarities to D'ahl were a sign. But they were not. D'aijeen and Antimony had killed D'ahl. If Azeyma had guided them here, they had made a mistake. D'hein Tia did not want to replace D'ahl. Still. "It's selfish, though. Just because everyone I care about is dead, does not me that there are not still others who care about me. Even if I don't care about what happens to the Dodos tomorrow, what if they care about me?" He wasn't convinced he had that kind of clout with anyone, but the Dodos did need a Nunh, didn't they? "At the very least I suppose they've invested value into me that I owe a return on." The words tasted strange, accurate, and he smirked at them as he walked towards the flat circle of stones. Her tail curled along with a stiff regret for thinking to share those words with the Tia. Selfish. Yes, perhaps he was being selfish. Perhaps they all were. But then so was everyone else. Drawing a deep breath, she followed D'hein once more. "Think what you wish, then," a bit of a bite snuck through her tone, and her ears fidgeted at it. She shifted D'ahl's journal from under her arm to her free hand. Stepping past the stones that rounded the circle, D'hein said, "I'm starting to think I won't actually go back to the commune." Antimony did not respond to that. Instead she moved to a spot amongst the stones where sand had gathered thickest and with some effort dropped to her knees there. The journal she set in her lap, the pouch of sage and necklace atop it. Bending forward wordlessly, she set her fingers to the sand and let the rhythm of decades of practice settle into her arm as she drew out an array of symbols. D'hein paced over towards one of the great, ornate slabs of stone can crouched down next to it, touching his fingertips to it. "When a Dodo dies, their body is burned and their ashes interred beneath these stones. There used to be more ritual to it, when we had shaman to perform such." More ritual. Perhaps this would be enough to satisfy, Antimony thought. A stylized representation of the sun, made from a fluid spiral and a number of radial "rays" took shape in the sand, followed by a few, more obtuse symbols to either side of it - relics of an ancient time and an ancient language. The last time she had done this, she'd been forced to rush through out of necessity, as other, desperate patients needed her care that still lived. Antimony's throat tightened, kept her voice from her while she worked, so she mouthed the prayers that were supposed to go along with it. Pulling her hand away from the sand, she took up the necklace and, with a sharp motion, snapped the thread that linked the bone beads together. D'hein Tia lingered where he was, watching Antimony with a neutral expression. One of his ears twitched. Letting the bones slide off the string into the palm of her hand, Antimony then began to scatter them in a loose circle pattern about the sun. A representation of the body they did not have. Clearing her throat, her voice was still a bit thick and strained when she spoke, "I will need that fire soon." As though on cue her fingers worked open the tie of the pouch. His scepter was concealed in his robe, so he stood to reach for it. The thing was near his belt, and he pulled it loose with slight difficulty, as its bindings had tightened from all of his movement. "Fire's easy to do. Just tell me when and how much you'll need." In a small, cup-shaped ditch she'd carved out of the sand, Antimony deposited several pinches of the sage. Another pinch she rubbed slowly between her fingers, closing her eyes, breathing in its savory, bright aroma. She wasn't wearing the proper clothes, or carrying the right fetishes (or any of them), but it would have to do. Holding her hand out, the rubbed sprig of sage poised between her fingers, Antimony said, "A very small amount." She hesitated, her mind drifting back to the steady rhythm if fire swung in careful patterns at the end of a staff, and then added, "Try to put emotion to it." Emotion? What emotion? The emotion burning through his arms was enough to blast away her little sand drawing and leave a sheet of glass in its place. Lifting the scepter in his gloved, numb right hand, D'hein muttered a spell in a neutral tone and gave the scepter the slightest flick, his gaze and mind target the spell at the sage in Antimony's hand. A small fleck of fire shoot out of the scepters tip, little more than a lightning bug, and cut a straight line through the dry air to the sage she held. It crackled to life dully. Bowing her head, Antimony kept her eyes fixed on the small flame held between her fingers. She forced her posture to relax, forced herself to tune out the gravestones around her, the Tia at her side, narrowed her focus until all she saw was the dull red-orange glow, all she felt was the heat growing closer to her skin. When the flame had consumed enough of the sprig that it was practically burning her, she set it to the rest of the herb in the sand, curved her hands around it to ward off any dangerous breeze. The dry herb caught easily, and she reached into the pouch for more, though she held it poised in her fingers for now. "As the Warden consumes, so does she shelter," she intoned in a low voice. She heard herself repeat the phrase several times, a slow mantra that came in time with the flickering of the flame. She cast another pinch of sage onto the pile, and then she heard nothing but the hum of the innate aether in her own body, felt it pulling up from her gut and running down her arms to the tips of her fingers. One hand set atop the journal in her lap, fingers splayed, while the other began to retrace the lines she had already drawn in the sand. To one sensitive to aether, they might notice a stirring in the energies of the earth there, a ripple echoing the pattern. D'hein slid the scepter back into his robe and crouched once more. Fire seemed prerequisite for death. The Thaumaturges used it to cleanse the dead. Others used it to guide them. Where was the lightning and the ice? If he'd been able to find D'ahl's body -- if he'd known what vengeance D'themia would take on her for the crime of dying without permission -- then he would have been able to prepare her as he had been taught to. Could Antimony really equal that with just a book, some bones and weeds? Antimony's ears drooped as her body relaxed into a pseudo-meditative state. To outsiders, nothing else visibly changed. The bones lay still in the arrangement the woman had set them, in an arc about the sun in the sand that her hand slowly moved over. To her mind's eye, even as she closed her own eyes, however, she saw a white fire following the pattern of the drawings, following her fingers in a thin trail as they moved through the sand. She saw the light on the journal, too, at the five points where her fingers touched its surface - like stars, the Warden's innumerable glimpses in the night. A surge of doubt nearly pulled her from the vision, a bitterness that those eyes had cared so little for those who had shown Her such love and respect, a doubt that the eyes were even capable of caring at all. Then another sprig of sage was pulled from the pouch, held to the burning pile until it lit. She bent low, nearly doubled over her lap so that she could feel the heat of the flame on her face; her braids hung down close enough that much more than a twitch to either side could catch her hair on fire. "From birth, to Hunt, to love, and to death," she murmured, and her words made the smoldering herb flicker. "From first breath to last. From destruction to renewal. Her Flame welcomes and protects," a moment's hesitation and her hand shifted across the surface of the journal, "... punishes and brings an end. Into the Warden's warmth I send you, to be reborn, to rejoin with those waiting, and to wait for those yet to come." She straightened then, eyes still closed, and took a small handful of sand from the center of the sun. This she cast across the journal, and then she went still and silent, waiting for when the time felt right. D'hein waited. He listened to Antimony's words, watched her hands and movements. he tried to think of her as a shaman, a guide of spirits. He tried to imagine that she cared one way or another whether or not D'ahl was reunited with her son. But her movements were strange and unexpected; if it was a ritual, he'd never seen it. He waited for the lightning and ice, but it did not come. Breath and sand and fire were all well and good, but it wasn't what he was looking for. It wasn't what D'ahl needed. How could the spirit follow that which it did not recognize? No Flame had guided D'ahl's life, or D'hein's own. The Tia reclined from the balls of his feet, tail shivering, dropping back on his haunches beside the ornate stone slab as though it meant nothing. He watched Antimony's tail, just her tail, unsure what to make of the rest of her. Her tail lay across the stones behind her, at rest save for the occasional, slow shift across the ground, almost a metronome to the beat of her words. When she went finally quiet, so did it, falling still in the middle of the vague arc it had spread in the sand. Minutes passed. The sage burned out until it was nothing but shriveled, blackened plant matter and a few, smoldering sparks. When Antimony lifted her head, she found she could not say for certain whether the ritual had succeeded, and that awareness left a hollow ache in her chest, of something long lost, never to be regained. Her tail twitched but remained otherwise limp in the sand, and she opened her eyes to smooth stone monuments, rocky cliffs, blue sky. Her hand on the journal brushed across it, in almost a caress, pushing the sand off until it was clean. Perhaps she wasn't meant to do such things anymore, she thought with something that could have been grief, could have been the familiar bitterness. She said nothing of this to D'hein, however, instead dropping her gaze to the journal. Silence stretched for a while longer before she murmured, "I've done what I can to bring her rest and comfort." There was a pause, and then she added out of old, almost forgotten habit, "May she know it long and well, until the last light fades from the sky." "Longer, perhaps. Light slips away so easily." D'hein's ears twitched, one of them more fervently than the other. The lazier of his two ears turned towards Antimony, listening to her breath and movement. "D'ahl's son is dead. Do you think he grows wiser, more mature, as he rests? Or will he remain a child's soul forever?" Antimony hesitated. She was not sure what she believed now, she thought, but she at least knew what she had believed back then. A sigh pulled on her shoulders. "It's another life, in the arms of the Warden, but a different one. I can't say, though... there were days I wondered." D'heins head drifted to one side, one of his ears seeking to maintain equilibrium while his other swayed like a leaf ready to fall from his head. His tail lifted from the ground, curled and fell. His face offered no expression. "Azeyma did not return all of your daughters to you, did she?" Her ears shifted back, head turning towards D'hein, though she didn't lift her eyes to him. "... No, she did not," she breathed, unsure why he would ask such a thing. "I'm sorry. Both for the event and for asking." Both of D'hein's ears laid down toghether, momentarily symmetrical. "I might have challenged D'themia directly were I not too much a fool. I was not eligible for Nunh except by a process of elimination. D'ahl's son was also my own, you see." She did see. Antimony had witnessed Tia ambition stretched too far on more than one occasion herself, including from her own brother. The memory dropped her ears lower. To more violent ends. "I... am sorry, as well," she muttered and briefly wondered if the son's death had been more than an accident. No Hipparion would have condoned such a thing, even if the father would have seen punishment. She swallowed, dropped her eyes to the journal again. "Losing a child was... not uncommon to us." The desert was ever cruel in that way. "But that fact never eased the pain." "As suffering goes, losing a child is only rare among the Dodos, for the children of the Nunh -- since several generations past -- have known more books than hunts." His tail shifted in the sand behind him once more. "It is not something I mourn. My own son, however, would have known hunts." Setting one hand to the ground, she pushed herself up, knees creaking in protest from their prolonged position. She turned then towards D'hein and extended the journal towards him. "Keep this, if it brings you comfort, but not if you'll lose yourself in it." She licked her lips, ears shifting wearily. "My daughter... would have rose to lead the huntresses soon, my Nunh an elder, if..." A sigh, her eyes moving away. "... We must hold on to those who are left." D'hein did not take the journal. He'd never seen it before. "You did not know D'ahl, but she was similar to you. I think you would have better luck understanding her thoughts than I would." Her tail swung slow and sluggish down by her legs, and she shifted her weight, caught off guard by his refusal. She almost thought to say that she didn't care to understand D'ahl's thoughts, but that seemed blasphemous in its own way, unforgivable, so she just tucked the journal back against her side, ears twitching unevenly. Watching the journal as though it were D'ahl's own receding face, D'hein at length looked up to Antimony. "So, here's a hypothetical for you. If the Brass Blades in Drybone said they've not seen K'airos, where would you go from there?" Antimony's ears started upward briefly before setting back down against her head, and she turned to blink at D'hein. Only a stiff silence answered him for a time, until, "... There... is only so far she could have gone." It was a weak hope, but she had to offer it. "There are ways to track a person down. It isn't my specialty, minf you, but at least one of your daughters is rather memorable. And, here's the hint: it is the one that is also mine." "I will send word or travel to every town necessary, if I must." D'hein shook his head, one ear swaying out beside his mane, the other standing tall. "That won't be necessary. We'll be able to discern a general direction at least." D'aijeen tended to strike people as either pretentious or ill, either of which was enough to secure her in their memories. "I will hope so." Sighing, she glanced back towards the monument stones, then down to her own offering in the sand. The herbs and bones and the crude drawing seemed so simple and humble, and she was keenly aware that these were things people could judge her for, as archaic, nonsense. It was why she'd done her best to hide such habits in Limsa - to blend in, thinking perhaps if she appeared less alien, she would... feel less alien. Antimony wondered if D'hein thought that of her, if the rest of the Dodos thought that. She didn't speak any of this, though, instead shifting her feet in the thin film of sand and looking over towards D'hein, past him towards Ul'dah. "I suppose we wait for now." Silent, D'hein dropped his gaze to Antimony's feet, watching their movement as if it were somehow abnormal. When he stood, his shoulders sagged away from his chest and his arms swung at his sides as though they hung from ropes. "Unless you can think of something productive to do, I'd rather not so my waiting in on the burial ground." The place felt emptier to him than the commune had. Antimony bent then, took up the leather pouch with its small amount of remaining sage. She wanted to continue looking for D'aijeen, even if such a search would end up a waste should the missive return from Drybone with good news. If it didn't, then... "Ulanan has always been good at finding people," she spoke suddenly, moving her eyes back to D'hein, watching his ears within hair that bore a striking resemblance to dandelion head. "I would seek her help." "She did find K'airos and D'aijeen once for you. Although, I had told her where to look. Do you know where to find the..." D'hein paused here, trying to remember if he liked or disliked Ulanan. Overriding most of his memories of the lalafell was the sight of her chasing D'ahl from the woman's own apartment, the last time D'hein had seen her alive. His eyes shivered in their sockets, and he looked at the ground. "Do you know where to find her, then?" Her brow furrowed, tail twitching in some half-realized discomfort. "She... always seemed to find me. Perhaps the inn, but..." "But there's no guarantee of it." One of his ears twitched, his tail shivering. "Didn't Ulanan say she was going to follow Aijeen? Maybe she saw something." Antimony sighed. "Perhaps, but that doesn't tell us where Ulanan's gone off to now." "I'm surprised you never bothered to discern her place of residence or some method of contact. Am I the only friend whose home you haunt?" Tail arching in some distress, Antimony fidgeted with the journal. "What? No... That... You're... were.. are? My employer! And," she huffed, "Much of my time at the commune was for business reasons, you know this." "I'm your employer? Yes. I..." D'hein shifted his weight to one foot. "I suppose it was in error that I used the word 'friend'. You'll have to forgive me." Green eyes widened as minor alarm bells rang in the back of her head, chiming of some unintentional misstep. Her arms tensed, pulling the journal a bit closer as she stammered, "Ah, that is--I didn't mean... Er, I was only saying that... that was why I knew where to look for you! That--that is all." Her ears twisted, one up and one down, then the opposite. "It was only that.. oh dear. I didn't mean to... say anything hurtful. Ah! Also, Ulanan doesn't live in Ul'dah. At least I... don't think." One of D'hein's ears fell back, noting how upset she'd become. "It isn't that I don't want to be friends anymore. I certainly hope you don't think that I hold anything that's happened against you." Although he did, but he at least intellectually realized that she hadn't caused these events deliberately. "Oh. Well... good?" Her mouth twisted in confusion. It wasn't as though she'd thought of D'hein as a friend before - at worst an invasive and extremely annoying employer, at best the adoptive father-figure of her youngest, wayward daughter. There were times when she even resented him for the latter, and she couldn't say she wouldn't resent him for it in the future. But it was also the latter that leaned into some sort of... camaraderie, a common affection and concern. Aijeen. D'hein's tired features twisted into a frustrated expression. "Good, yes. I hope." He sighed, let his head droop forward. "If Ulanan does know anything, she is likely to seek you out. She would look for you at the inn?" One ear twitched, and she pursed her lips. "I suppose... yes. That seems most reasonable." Her tail shifted uncertainly, and she made a slight gesture towards the remains of her ritual. "Would you... like to say any last words?" "Last words. It's too depressing a concept." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, I wouldn't." She dropped her eyes, took a step away from the stones, then hesitated. "I... am sorry. I would never wish this on anyone." Dhien took a quick step sideways and pivoted on his heel, walking down the way they had come, back through the burial ground. "I appreciate your empathy. For the latter portion, I assumed you would not wish this on anyone. That would not be like you, I don't think." Antimony lingered a moment longer, glancing back towards her small offering to the dead, then towards D'hein's retreating back. Then she dropped her ears and made to follow. "We can eat while we wait to see if Ulanan turns up," she offered quietly when she'd caught back up to the Tia. "A bit of food does the mind good." "... It does. More than the mind, there is not a single part of a person, or a pair of persons, that is not improved and more focused by food." He spoke as he walked, pausing only slightly to look over his shoulder. "You must not complain when I order you extravagant food, though. Not today." And then he moved on.

Yellow eyes snapped to the nunh at his forceful entry to the tent. K'jhanhi's thin tail thudded against the sand, and opposite him K'deiki struggled to stand. "Dear, you're bleeding," came the old woman's alarmed, raspy voice, her nose having caught the coppery scent more than her eyes could make out any wounds. Then she coughed, bowed forward, and wheezed, "Amal'jaa... so close...?" "Sound the alarm amongst the huntresses," K'jhanhi rumbled. His eyes flicked to K'mih's cowed form briefly before letting out a sigh. "We will need to move, even if you did kill them all."

((A day after Negotiating with a Battering Ram.)) *** Antimony wasn't entirely sure why she'd chosen to take D'edy Nunh's invitation. Parties were not exactly her thing, least of all parties hosted by a tribe whose members had been almost uniformly hostile to her - with a few exceptions, or really, just one - and then there was the added awkwardness of it being more than just a party. By all rights she should steer clear of such things. But D'hein was going to be there (he had to, because of that certain awkward point that made it more than just a party), and she could not shake the need to speak with him after everything that had happened. This seemed like a reasonable opportunity, then. And perhaps it wouldn't be so bad...? So Antimony made her way up the spiraling staircase that led to the Dodo tribe's commune, dressed in her usual plain get up, though she'd put a bit more effort than usual into making sure her hair was nice. There wasn't much to be done for the livid bruising that spread across one cheekbone and in a starburst pattern across her nose and into the corners of her eyes, unfortunately. She'd managed to reduce the swelling significantly with a poultice of her own making, but the rest would have to fade with time. She just hoped it wouldn't damage whatever sway she could muster too much. At least her nose wasn't crooked. She made it up the last of the stairs only mildly out of breath, and a minute later - after regaining her composure and making sure her hair hadn't gone wild - she opened the door that would lead out into the commune's courtyard, preparing herself for the guard that was sure to greet her. And possibly turn her away before she took even another step. The woman who apparently was in a habit of standing with her back to the door that Antimony was guarding turned half-turned to look over her should as it opened. Her dark eyes looked down through her dark hair, ash-gray skin of her face twisting at the sight of the woman. The massively tall woman -- at least for a Miqo'te -- glared at Antimony with barely restrained hostility, recalling the anger she'd shown the previous day when she'd tried and failed to turn the woman away. Past her, the courtyard was alive with music and movement. The Dodos evidently weren't against bringing paid servants into the commune, as there was live music being played by a troupe of Lalafell in black business suits. The tune was lively and loud, not exactly aligning with the dreariness of the suits, but at least one of the Lalafell was moving his little legs happily in an attempt to compensate for this. They didn't seem accustomed to playing happy music. Servants were orbiting the fountain with trays covered in drinks and food, all of them Lalafell. There were dancers, but these were Miqo'te, and they were dancing in the fountain instead of on any kind of dance floor. The tall, dark woman, continued to glare at Antimony. More specifically, she was glaring at the woman's glasses, at her hair, at one part of her face and then another. Eventually, her gaze moved to the bruises on her features, and lingered there for a few seconds before her hostility was transmuted into a strange, unfriendly amusement. She smiled. "Maybe you should have been a smidgeon more careful yesterday." Antimony's ears shifted back and she clasped her hands low at her waist in front of her. "Yes. Well." She cleared her throat awkwardly, flicked her tail, and then made sure her posture was straight before meeting the huntress's gaze with a slight frown. "D'edy Nunh," she still only half believed that klutz of a miqo'te was a nunh, "informed me yesterday that I was invited to this... celebration. If you'll let me pass, then...?" The tall woman rolled her eyes and reached into a pouch on her belt. She plucked a small string of colorful beads out and tossed them at Antimony's chest, muttering, "Sorry." Then she stepped aside and gestured towards the courtyard. "Get going." Antimony's hands fumbled to catch the beads, and she blinked down at them in confusion as she stepped through the door. "These are for..?" The dark woman only stood taller, eyes wide and snapped, "I said go! Stop blocking the door!" Ears flicking up in surprise, Antimony bounced forward and then hurried away from the door. Once she'd put a comfortable distance between herself and the surly guard, she slowed to take in what had become of the courtyard. Her hands idly twisted the beads around her fingers as she listened to the upbeat music from the lalafell. There was no doubt it was a celebration, she thought, though one very different from the kinds she was used to. But music and dancing were a commonality, at least, even if the details were keenly different. Wandering towards the middle of the courtyard, near the fountain, and lingered there for a moment as her eyes searched the milling crowd. She felt horribly out of place, in a way similar to how she'd felt in those weeks after first setting foot in Limsa. One of the lalafell servants carrying a tray of unidentifiable but very strong-smelling finger food paused by her, lifting her burden in offering. Antimony gave the tiny woman a friendly, only somewhat nervous smile and plucked one of the items from it with a, "Thank you." This earned her a confused look before the lalafell hurried off, presumably to care for the hungers of other folk. The Dodos were wearing most of their plumage. Except for the sparse handful of huntresses who were stationed about the courtyards, likely watching the bridges to make sure none of their Lalafellin servants went wandering off, the Dodo women were dressed in silks. They idled about as though the party had already been on for hours, but they had settled into it as though it were a normal day. They ambled about with drinks in their hands or sat on the benches as though they were decorations themselves, mostly brown-haired women in pastel hues with seemingly every limb, join, finger and toe bearing polished metal and gemstones. A very thin woman appeared before Antimony. She wore a single layer of soft pinks and blues that seemed less like a garment and more like a few yards of expensive cloth draped and tied around her body, and a puffball of blonde hair above her head. She stood there for a moment with a near-empty wineglass in her hand, redness on her face and glass on her eyes, staring at Antimony's face for a long quiet moment before her mouth split open and her head pitched back. "Hey, she showed up!" At once, a general murmuring rose up from the many silk-clad women, and the huntresses, as they set their drinks and lances aside and dug into pockets to produce small beaded bracelets. Even the dancers in the fountain -- wearing pastel silks of their own that, wet, didn't do much to hide their bodies -- pulled bracelets from somewhere on their persons. The first in the crowd to throw a bracelet at Antimony was the puffball-haired woman, just kindly tossing it at her head as if she was trying to get the loop of beads around one of her ears. "Sorry," she said as she did so. Then the rest of the bracelets came, from every single woman in attendance, each one saying a simple "Sorry," as they threw them. Some tones were mute, some sincere, at least one playfully melodic. The bracelets were not thrown hard or maliciously, but over two dozen of them rained down on Antimony over a long moment. One of the Lalafell servants ran for cover as a poorly-aimed bracelet smacked him in the face. Antimony ducked her head, flicked her ears at the first set of beads, let out a muttered, "What?" at the second, and then just froze in confused silence as more clattered noisily over her. Her tail stuck straight out behind her, completely still though not bristled. When it seemed as though no more beaded bracelets were going to come her way, Antimony shifted her feet anxiously, felt her toes knock against beads that had fell to the ground, and gave a wide-eyed stare to the dandelion haired huntress. "... I'm sorry," she mumbled, shook her ears, blinked. "I... am afraid I don't understand what this is about..?" The woman laughed, the sound sluggish and heavy on her lips. "D'edy had us all make friendship bracelets for you and told us to say sorry and give 'em to you so we made a game out of it." She lifted her glass and used it to point at the place where her ears would have been if they weren't concealed by her massive hair. She succeeded in spilling red wine on her head. "First person to get it on your ear gets first night with the new Nunh." She tapped her head with the wine glass and reached for Antimony's ear, as though she couldn't tell whether or not anyone had won just from looking. Antimony leaned her head away from the woman's clumsy hand, and her ears shifted back. "That, ah--" Her own hands reached up, patted at her hair to reassure herself that she hadn't become some living ring toss target. None of the women had managed to find their intended mark, luckily. "Ah, well, that is... that's very nice of all of you... I think. Yes! I appreciate the gesture." "Good! Hey, why you dressed up in all that wooly stuff?" Dandelion-head shoved her glass indicatively at Antimony's robe, pouring out her wine on ti, but she didn't even seem to notice. "You cold or something? Or you just don't have any good clothes." In the fountain, the women had resumed their dancing. Very few people were actually watching them, but the women seemed to be enjoying themselves. Jumping back with a short yelp, Antimony batted at the front of her robe before realizing that really wasn't doing any good for the wine that had already sunk into the fibers. "These are my clothes," she stated a bit defensively, green eyes turning an unhappy frown down at the red stain. Her tail flicked. "I... could ask you why you are wearing... what you are." "What? It's pretty!" She spun, then stepped forward suddenly so that she was mere ilms away from Antimony, her puffy hair brushing the woman's forehead. "Hey, we're friends now. Come on! Let's get you nicer clothes!" Antimony almost protested that tossing a "friendship bracelet" at someone because your nunh told you to did not necessarily make you friends with said someone, but she was already on rocky ground with the Dodo tribe - or at least she had been so far. She was hesitant to risk even the sliver of good will she'd managed to uncover, at least because she didn't want anyone threatening to throw her off bridges or hitting her in the face again. She protested instead, "That's very kind, but I like my clothes as they are." "I'm offering to give you free things." The danelion-headed woman pushed her glass at Antimony's face. "Stuff for free. You don't gotta wear it, just catch it and resell it if you don't like it. You at least gotta let me make up for throwing you in jail that one time, Miss Sagolii Witch." Antimony winced at that, leaning her head away from the wine glass. "You could begin by not referring to me by such a name," she suggested coolly. "My name is Antimony Jhanhi." "Ya can't live down a nickname!" She flipped her glass carelessly and finally dropped it. It broke into a number of large pieces against the stone floor, and a servant quickly raced over to collect them; most of these women were barefoot after all. "Like, people call me... I don't have a nickname. Woops." A Lalafell presented her with a new glass of wine, which she took without question, placing it to her lips immediately and spinning away. Her hair shifted, hinting at the movement of her ears inside of it, as she looked back towards the fountain. She lifted her glass and shouted, "D'edy! She's here!" The Nunh had appeared in fountain at some point, his formally fuzzy ears now sleek with water and his very thin tail sleek and dripping. His body, practically just bones and skin, shone with water from head to toe. There were no clothes to obscure the sight, except for what honestly looked like women's underpants, and scanty ones at that. Evidently trying to dance with the women, though it was painfully clear that he had no idea how, he stopped a moment after being noticed and jumped out of the fountain as though summoned. "Hello!" The tiny Nunh trotted over to Antimony, his bare feet slapping the ground. Stifling further, annoyed protest at the unwanted nickname, Antimony turned to follow dandelion-head's gaze towards the fountain. She startled, blinked rapidly at the sight of the mostly naked, soaking wet Nunh, and then looked firmly away. There was a heat in her cheeks, but the bruises mostly hid it. "Hello," she offered stiffly as the Nunh approached, wringing her hands in front of her. Then searching for anything that would be appropriate to say and not really having a clue, she tried, "It seems everyone is, ah, enjoying themselves tonight." It fell lamely. "They are! Come here, puffball!" D'edy extended his wet arms towards the dandelion-headed woman. But she turned away from him and moved so that Antimony was between them. "Oh no, you don't. I'm going to have a new Nunh tonight, but it's not you!" "Ah." D'edy's arms dropped to his sides. "Everyone keeps saying that. I mean I know he's got that tail, but-" "It's not the tail I'm after!" She put the wine to her lips again. "Huh." D'edy blinked, and looked at Antimony, and his smile burst forth over his thin face. "Well! I'm am just thrilled to the gills that you showed up! Surprised a bit, too." "To the gills," Antimony echoed in a mutter and then shook herself, focusing on D'edy's face. "Well. Yes. I..." Her hands worked around themselves for a few seconds as she sought a suitable explanation. With all these women around her looking forward to the "new nunh", she felt suddenly supremely awkward in her intention to speak with D'hein. "It seemed the proper thing to do," she tried, winced. "That is, not that I would let my work be influenced by personal favors or anything--no, nothing of the sort! Just that, ah, it was such a mess what happened yesterday and... it seemed.. fair? To accept! I suppose." "Seemed fair to me that you'd take legal action against the tribe for professional abuse and seek monetary restitution." D'edy said, smiling. Then he slapped his sides again. "Not that I'm telling you to do that. Party's good too!" Behind Antimony, the dandelion-headed woman crouched, picked up a beaded bracelet, then stood and slipped it over Antimony's ear. "I win!" Tossing her hand in the air and spinning wine everywhere, she spun and shouted, "I winnnn! You girls better try harder next time!" D'edy Nunh clapped and smiled, nodding, "That's good, very good. I love a business-savvy woman. Now we just need D'hein to actually show up and then we can all rip his clothes off." Her ear twitched at the unexpected weight, but as her hands reached up to paw it off, she choked at D'edy's words, hand freezing on the bracelet around her ear. "We... What?" She coughed, pulled the beads off and let them hang in limp fingers. "That, ah--" What kinds of rituals did these Dodos have, she wondered a bit shrilly. No wonder Aijeen had grown up so... Clearing her throat again, Antimony twisted her tail behind her. Well she may as well say it, even if she was obviously intruding - did it count as intrusion when she was invited? - in a tribal affair. "Er, I had.. rather hoped to speak with him, actually," she forced out after a moment. "Then you shoulda stuck some beads on your own ear." The dandelion-headed woman closed in on her and said, "He's mine tonight. You'll ahve to wait your turn." "Okay, hey look! It's the winner's turn to dance!" D'edy reached over, grabbed the woman by her arm and pulled her away from Antimony, pushing her towards the fountain. "Special winner dance! Go make everyone jealous." "Yes, winner dance!" The woman stumbled towards the fountain, not for a moment doubting that the winner dance was an actual thing. Letting out a sigh as though he'd been relieved of some ponderous weight, D'edy spun back to Antimony and leaned towards her. "Well I can tell you're not interested in competing with the me and the ladies for his attention. So either the rumors are wrong and you're not interested, or the rumors are true and you can take him any time you want!" "Rumors? What--" She grimaced then, recalling D'themia's angry, nasty words suddenly. She sighed. "... No. They are not true. They're just--ah! Who started those rumors anyway?? Certainly not Aijeen. No." D'edy lifted his arms and joined them behind his head, knitting his fingers together with his elbows pointing upward. "Iiiii don't know. The women do get pretty jealous sometimes. Anyway, hey." He ducked his head forward. "The girls think I'm hiding D'hein away so that he's full of energy to have fun all night. Or something. But between you and me he's been moping since yesterday morning and I can't even get him to acknowledge there's a party going on at all." Green eyes blinked once, and then her ears pressed back in acknowledgement. "I see." A pause, and then uneasily, "Because of... D'ahl?" The Nunh pursed his lips, biting down on them and looking off towards the sky as if the thought were only just occurring to him. "Huh. Y'know, maybe. He has been haunting D'ahl's apartment. I just thought he liked the mirrors." Antimony recalled those dizzying mirrors and thought no one but that twisted woman could enjoy such things, but she kept that thought to herself. It wouldn't do to think ill of the dead anyway, especially when her spirit likely lingered if it hadn't been given a proper hand off to the sun... Shaking her ears to dispel distracted thoughts, Antimony looked away from D'edy briefly, then back to the nunh. "Where is he now? I would speak with him." "Probably still there. Just don't tell any of the women. They'd go down there and make him a Nunh on the spot!" He luaghed. Antimony nodded, hesitated, and then admitted reluctantly, "I don't recall how to get there." "Uhm, okay." D'edy looked one direction, and then the other, and then pointed Antimony towards one of the bridges. "Just tell the huntress over there that I told her to tell you where D'ahl's apartment is. And try not to let it get all awkward." "Of course." Antimony looked past D'edy for a moment, towards the fountain where dandelion head was performing a rather uncoordinated, if suggestive, victory dance, then grimaced and bowed her head towards the Nunh. "Thank you. I hope you enjoy your party." She then turned, stumbled backwards as she barely dodged a lalafell servant who had been maneuvering with a delicately balanced tray of wine, and then righted herself with a flustered flick of her tail before making to cross the courtyard. None of the other women stopped her on her way, thankfully, though she did end up accepting another bite of food from one of the servants before she finally approached the guard D'edy had indicated. Clearing her throat and folding her arms to try and hide the wine stain dandelion head had given her, Antimony stepped up to the woman. "Excuse me. D'edy Nunh has said you are to show me to D'ahl's apartment. Please." She spoke as straight arrowed as she could manage, hoping to avoid any questions as to why. The woman she spoke to, a huntress dressed in the typical all-white armor of the commune's guards, snapped her gaze from the party as though she hadn't seen Antimony approach. Her short off-red hair hung about her face in great clumps, rigidly poking her features like flower petals. Her eyes, yellow as pollen, widened, dark lips twisted. "What in the seven hells?" A whole five seconds passed, where Antimony blinked back at the woman in startled silence. Then she straightened suddenly, clasped her hands in front of her (one of which still held one of those silly friendship bracelets), and repeated firmly, "You're to show me to D'ahl's apartment, at D'edy Nunh's request." A brief pause and then an added, "Please." One of the woman's eyes narrowed. Just one. The other twitched, and glanced away, and then back. "Wha... I mean, why? I mean, that's... But you're the..." Her gaze dropped to the bracelet in Antimony's hands, and she bit her lips and closed her eyes. Breathing deeply as if to calm herself, she snapped her head to one side and then the other. Her neck cracked loudly. "Fine. D'edy's the boss now, right? Everything's turned crazy overnight. The kid's the boss and the Witch gets a tour." Antimony frowned, opened her mouth to protest their continued insistence in referring to her with that abominable name, but perhaps wisely reconsidered a moment later. "Not a full tour. Just to D'ahl's apartment," she reminded. "But thank you." The woman's shoulders tightened and her arms shook, her ears slamming flat against her head. "...Yeah, sure. No problem." Her tail shivered as she led Antimony across the bridge and into the opposite tower. Antimony followed quietly and did her best not to look down as they crossed the bridge, or even think about looking down, or consider that there was a down to be looked upon, or just... well, she kept her eyes glued to the red-head's back until they were safely inside the tower. The woman took Antimony to what might've been a familiar door, with the decorative engraving on its outside still defaced just like it had been last time. "Here. Why?" Stepping up to the door, Antimony lifted a hand as though to knock, but hesitated. She pursed her lips at the guard woman's words, rolled over a number of potential replies, trying to keep D'edy's request and her own desire to avoid embarrassing conflict in mind, and finally just settled on, "Private matters." With an audible crack of limbs and armor, the woman snapped her head down towards Antimony. "Hey! I know D'edy said we should all be friends, but it's a little creepy that you of all people need to be escorted to D'ahl's home, alone, in the middle of the party, for 'private matters'. You sure you don't have some more specific purpose you want to volunteer?" Antimony flinched, her tail curling as she half turned towards the guard, and then leaned away when the woman's face loomed startling near. "That... I am sorry for any appearance of, ah, creepy! I promise it's not like that. Only... well, family matters and it's.. all rather awkward for me to discuss and a long story nonetheless and--" She cut herself short, her ears shivering, and then just finished quickly, "Ask D'edy, if you must." The woman leaned back from Antimony, one hand on her hip. "Careful. He might just tell me, and I'm sure he knows plenty." "Yes, well," Antimony fidgeted. "I suppose he could. About some things. Ah--" She glanced back towards the door and then to the huntress. "... If I could have some privacy...?" "You want privacy to open the door?" Her white-armored arms crossed. "I'm not going in there. The mirrors are unsettling. Especially now that she's dead. And with what happened to her body, a bunch of us suspect she'll end up haunting the place." Green eyes widened at that. "To her... body?" She hadn't really learned what happened to D'ahl specifically, aside from that she had died an apparently horrible death. The guard's words settled heavy in her stomach, and her fingers itched for a few key ingredients that could at least help cleanse the... "Ah, right, so. I will, uhm, be going inside now," she blurted out, turned, opened the door, and then slipped inside. Watching Antimony slip into the apartment, the guard smiled. "Watch for her face in those mirrors, Witch. You've been warned." And then the door shut her out. Inside, D'ahl's apartment was just as it had been when Antimony left the previous day. With so many of the mirrors broken, their confusing affect was lost. No longer a labyrinth, the entryway was just a hall covered in mirrors, with a few glass tables and a small number of doors. It would be one left turn to the apartment's main foyer, where there would be a single small window and most of the useful furniture. Leaning her hands back against the door a moment, Antimony glanced around the entryway, eyes skittering over the mirrors cautiously and trying to ignore the numerous, bruised faces that blinked back at her. If D'ahl's spirit had not been properly released, the guard's words were entirely possible, she thought grimly. The apartment was unnervingly quiet, but she didn't let that dissuade her. Tail twitching close by one leg, she pushed away from the door and began to make her way down the hall. A crunch beneath dropped her eyes to a shard of glass that was now broken into a number of smaller fragments beneath her shoe, and she grimaced. Nothing had truly been touched since... "D'hein? I know you're in here," she called out, taking her foot off the glass and pushing the shards off to one side of the hall. "Perhaps we should talk." There was no answer, though there was a rhythmic click of glass from further in the apartment. Antimony's ears flicked about, both unsettled by her surroundings and annoyed at the thought of the Tia (Nunh?) ignoring her. She followed the click of glass down the hall, into the main foyer. Dhein sat in the foyer, one on of D'ahl's large, red suede sofas. He feet were up on a footrest in front of him, his head back and staring at the ceiling. More specifically, he was staring at a mirror on the ceiling, bearing a reflection of himself. He held an empty bottle, clicking it against a mirror-topped table to his right. The man's ears and tail both hung limp, his lips a neutral line, his eyes-half lidded and glassy. His red robe was bundled tight around him like a blanket. Well, that was certainly moping, Antimony thought, pausing partway into the foyer to watch D'hein quietly. The beads of the friendship bracelet jingled as her hands began to fidget unconsciously. "I heard about D'ahl," she offered, then winced, recognizing that was likely a horrible place to start. She shifted her gaze to the mirrors about the room, sighed, and then pressed her lips together before speaking a bit snappier, "How long do you intend to remain here?" The clicking of the bottle stopped. D'hein blinked. "I have also heard about D'ahl. I was asked to identify the body. It was difficult to judge." The clicking resumed. Her hands continued to fidget distractedly as her brow lowered behind her glasses, lips turning down in a somber frown. A heavy silence followed D'hein's words for nearly a minute, and then Antimony let out a faint breath before speaking quieter, "Everyone--well, D'themia and... they thought I had done it." She blinked then, a suddenly worried look crossing her face as she eyed D'hein sideways. "Ah, you--er, you did not agree with them, right? I would never..." Her face twisted and she tried, "I worry for what it's done to Aijeen." "I don't think you killed D'ahl, no. You couldn't." He set the bottle on the table, directly in the center of it, watching his movements in the mirror above him. "What are you worried about?" She pulled a bit more roughly on the bracelet than she'd intended and she jumped as the string snapped, sending colorful beads scattering to the floor. Antimony blinked at the cascade helplessly for a moment before shaking her ears. "Ah, well, that--they were... close." Her brow furrowed as the beads, their numbers multiplied by the mirrors, bounced and rolled beneath D'hein's seat. One of D'hein's ears twitched as he watched the beads in the mirrors. "Close is a way to say it, yes. Though I'm guessing they have terminated such intimacies. Otherwise this wouldn't have happened." "What?" Antimony's brow furrowed deeper. "I'm sure there was nothing Aijeen could have done to prevent... it was a horrible thing, but to suggest she had anything to do with it..!" "Nobody actually believes an animal attack killed D'ahl. It's not like something escaped from the coliseum without being seen." "Yes, but... Aijeen?? No, that's not possible." Antimony set her mouth and tone firmly at this. D'hein's tail swished beneath him. "How do you figure?" "She is not a murderer." Her certainty lent an icy crispness to her voice. "History disagrees with you." "Excuse me?" Green eyes narrowed with affront. "Aijeen has done some questionable things in the past, but she has not killed anyone. She could never. That you would even consider thinking such... how dare you!" The Tia blinked at the mirror three more times before finally dropping his gaze to look at Antimony. His brow dropped immediately, his lips turning down. "What happened to your face?" Antimony's ears flicked back, and she crossed her arms defensively at the question. "Don't change the subject. It's unrelated--ah, mostly. But regardless! You--" she frowned at D'hein, tail curling up, "--should not be thinking such horrible accusations about the girl you claim to think of as a daughter." Pushing his lips out, D'hein shrugged and looked up at the ceiling again. "D'aijeen has killed two people that I'm sure of, in the past, when she was still young. So you can't say she's never killed anyone." Antimony paled. "What--what are you talking about? She's certainly never killed anyone under my watch." "Well you weren't watching there for a while." Her ears set back flat, eyes narrowed as her tail shivered. "Further evidence you--this entire tribe has done nothing but corrupt her!" One of D'hein's ears lay down on his head, his other just twitching to the side. He closed his eyes and joined his hands over his stomach, taking in a deep breath. When he exhaled, the breath shook in his chest. He opened his eyes again, blinked them, and just stared at himself. Antimony balled her hands into fists against her arms, practically vibrated where she stood in anger, and then turned half away from D'hein with a huff. "I refuse to believe she would have a hand in D'ahl's death. Have you seen her since?" "No." He lifted one hand in a neutral gesture. "Nobody has. I'm assuming she's run off." Her tail drooped. "And has no one gone to look for her?" D'hein chuckled. "Everyone kind of figures she had something to do with D'ahl going crooked and then dying. So, no. Nobody has gone looking for her." "That is not funny," Antimony snapped, then made to pace forward, found herself face-to-face with her own... face, spun around to pace the other way, only to meet the same, and then just whipped her tail back and forth. "This is absurd. You are--you're... no! I do not know why I came here. I'm going to look for Aijeen." Then she spun on her heel. "Why did you come here?" D'hein suddenly sat up, dropping his face to look at her. "You didn't ask me anything that you can't figure out by asking anyone else." Antimony hesitated, kept her back to D'hein while her tail shivered with a nervous energy. "You... I may not like it, but you are... personally involved in matters regarding Aijeen," she spoke with some reluctance. "Personally involved. That's a word for it." One of his ears twitched again. "I think I know her better than you do." Antimony's posture tightened visibly. "You certainly presume a great deal," she bit out. "You don't even think she's capable of killing anyone, when as a matter of fact, she's unsettlingly good at it." D'hein stood, his tail immediately swinging back and forth behind him. "I didn't expect her to kill D'ahl, but you heard her when she ran out that door. She said she wasn't going to let D'ahl get away with hurting you. That's how she said it." "She was angry, and those words could mean any number of things!" Antimony shook her head, dug her nails into her palms. "If Aijeen was involved in this murder at all - and there is no reason to think she was! - it was as a witness only, I'm certain. Which means she is out there alone, likely frightened, and--and I must find her." She again made to exit the foyer. "She wouldn't be alone. She'd be with Airos." "All the more reason to find her!" Antimony huffed and turned on D'hein. "Be quick to condemn her if you will, but she is my daughter. I know her and I will not shirk my obligations to her. I almost hope D'ahl does come haunt this place, so that she can tell you how wrong you are!' "I'm not condemning her." D'hein spread his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm saying that D'aijeen ran out of here as mad as Halone at the wrong time of month, saying she was going to find D'ahl. And then a few hours later D'ahl turns up dead from an animal attack, which is exactly how the other two people D'aijeen 'didn't kill' ended up dead." "Listen to what you're saying - an animal attack? She's a child! Even if she were to--to--" Antimony couldn't bring herself to say it and so pushed on, "--she could not do such a thing as that! No, you're mistaken. It's not Aijeen." "When Aijeen kills people she makes it look like an animal attack." D'hein ducked his head forward and spoke harshly. He pointed off towards the center of the commune, at nothing really. "The last Nunh made D'themia look like a kitten, and we all had to sacrifice a bit of ourselves to get rid of him. Aijeen had to kill two of his women, and they came out of it ripped to shreds. She took credit for that!" "What...?" Her ears flattened out in confusion even as she felt her stomach twist. "Why would you say--that's nonsense, she... No." She gestured sharply with one hand, cut through the air in front of her. Then she turned away again. "You're wrong." "I'm not wrong. It's history. It happened." He took a step forward, broken class cracking under his red shoes. "I'm not telling you she's a murderer. She killed in self-defense then. But you can't run off pretend she's not capable of hurting someone, or that she didn't kill D'ahl. She did. There only way around that is delusion." "It's not delusion, it's--it's reason! She is physically incapable of it!" She thought back to how her daughter had clutched at her in the bathroom of her inn, how weak her gestures had been; Antimony's throat tightened. "Incapable?" His ears went askew, and he shook his head. "If she can hold a scepter and a twig and tribal -- beads, I guess? -- then she can do anything that can be done with magic." He pointed at Antimony now. "You'd know better the strange magic she brought with her from the desert tribe of yours." Antimony flinched, ears lowering further against her head. She furrowed her brow at a nearby mirror, at the bruised face glowering back at her, and then breathed, "She never hurt anyone deliberately." A pause, then reluctantly, "She only became truly dangerous when she created that monster." Snapping his head back, one ear lying flat on his head and another standing straight up, D'hein blinked several times. He then spread his palms, "How can you keep doing that? Saying she doesn't hurt anyone and couldn't if she wanted to, and then 'Oh, by the way, everything went downhill after she summoned the monster'." "She did it to help us!" Antimony all but shouted, then hesitated. Those were the excuses K'aijeen had made when they'd found her, at least. Antimony had believed her, but it hadn't changed how threatening the whole situation had been. Reaching up, she made to squeeze the bridge of her nose anxiously, then winced and pulled her hand away quickly when her face gave a painful reminder of why that wasn't a good idea. "To protect you." D'hein squinted, his lips curling downward. "You're the only person D'ahl hurt at all. You're the only one who she could've been trying to protect. Wrongly." "Are you going to try and claim she is using that monster again?" Antimony snapped. "It's gone, fled into the Sagolii. And likely died when whatever dark magics she used were no longer maintaining it." "Used it? She used it?" His tail flicked behind him, whacking the furniture loudly, though he showed no sign of noticing. "So not only can she apparently summon monsters, but use them! What kind of monster?" "It doesn't matter because it's dead," Antimony insisted, and her tail shivered. "If she summoned one, she can summon another, can't she?" Antimony was silent at that, posture tense and drawn in. Eventually she spoke in a quiet voice, "She... stole meat and bones from our stores. The monster was..." Grimacing, Antimony didn't finish the thought. "I don't know who you're talking when you say that she can't hurt anyone, but it's not my daughter." D'hein pulled himself back into a straight and composed posture, turning his face towards the mirrors. He saw Antimony in them, but he mistook her for D'ahl briefly. "Then again, I wouldn't think D'aijeen would ever hurt D'ahl either. So I guess we're both wrong about her." Though she bit down on her tongue to keep quiet the remarks she wished to make regarding how entitled D'hein was to calling K'aijeen his daughter, Antimony couldn't stop the short huff at his words. "I am sorry for your loss. But I refuse to believe it until we've spoken with her," she replied tensely. One ear shook. "Now might not be a safe time to go looking for her, Antimony." "Don't be absurd. Nothing will keep me from seeking out my daughter, especially after such an incident." Crossing his arms once more, D'hein looked at her sideways. "And where do you plan on looking?" Antimony pressed her lips together a moment, arms tightening against her sides. "I will ask after her... And Airos. Someone in this forsaken city must have seen one or both of them. Or perhaps they've gone to Drybone." "And you don't think the Sultansworn is looking? Meanwhile there are four more deaths out there, and we don't know what killed them. Maybe that was her monster, too." "Unless you've told them of Aijeen," a certain threatening venom entered her voice in those words, "then they would have no reason to search for her. It matters not, however." D'hein blinked, "She's the one who turned D'ahl's body into the Sultansworn. They're involved because of her." Antimony blinked, her ears flattening at that, but then she only said, "It doesn't matter. I am going to find her." She made for the hall she'd entered from then, tail flicking. "Fine. Don't let her hurt you if you find her." One of his ears lay down, the other turning an unrelated direction. "I'll just be here. I've got nowhere to be." Antimony paused at that, half turning back towards D'hein in the doorway. "You're not interested in the celebration they're throwing for you outside? The title of nunh is nothing to toss sand at." D'hein snapped his gaze to the single, tiny window in D'ahl's apartment. "The only reason I was trying to get rid of D'themia was for D'ahl and Aijeen. The word 'Nunh' sounds kind of stupid to me right now." For a moment her expression softened, then shifted away before turning back towards the hall. "I... may be able to gather the necessary things to usher D'ahl's spirit on to the light, if you wish it." She hesitated then, and finally added, "If you wish to help Aijeen, you should help me find her." D'hein's ears spasmed, standing upright, then slamming down, one sliding forward while the other slid back and then changing positions. His tail pinwheeled. He looked to the mirror but there was only his own frustrated expression and Antimony, with her back to him. "D'themia had D'ahl's body thrown outside the city to waste away alongside those of starved refugees, as though she were not even an Ul'dahn, much less a Dodo. I had considered..." His tail went still for a moment, and then shivered. "Searching for her." Antimony swallowed. "It is easier to care for the spirit if one can also care for the body." There was no love lost between her and D'ahl, but she couldn't deny that it bothered her to think that the woman was so damned in her death. She wouldn't wish that on anyone. "Can it be done without. In case we can't..." There were more words to the sentence, but D'hein ran out of breath before he could speak them. Antimony took a deep breath and wondered how much power her prayers could have when she'd spent years vehemently denying the religion they were attached to. She didn't voice this concern to D'hein, however, instead offering a simple, "Yes. It just takes certain arrangements." D'hein Tia turned his gaze back to Antimony, inhaled deeply, and then spoke with a heavy breath. "Well. Aijeen will be with K'airos, and K'airos has obligations. If she's gone back to Drybone, she will have duties there. We can check with the Brass Blade offices here by foot, and there by missive, and see what's become of her." Letting out a short sigh, Antimony's tail relaxed just a hair. "That is something. A place to start." A pause, while her hands fidgeted with the sides of her robe. "I don't suppose you have access to salv--ah, that is... Sagolii sage?" Blinking, D'hein's brow popped up and then dropped. "I'm not sure what... Are you asking if I can change what people call you? Because the huntresses are sort of stubborn around here." "What?" Antimony blinked and turned a second time, giving D'hein a confused look. "... I'm speaking of the plant. A short shrub. Purple flowers. The leaves are... essential." "Oh." One of his ears canted violently. "Is it rare? If it's something that can be bought I'm sure I can buy it." "It wasn't particularly rare back... with the tribe." Her fingers twisted a bit in her robe. "Then it probably won't be rare here." Both his ears snapped forward in rare cooperation, then one of them screwed it up by drifting off to listen to a different part of the room. "Don't let my lack of mindfulness disturb you. I'm no horticulturist." "I will need it for the ritual." She pursed her lips, tail curling. "And a few other things. Something of D'ahl's." D'hein gestured broadly, "Pick a mirror," and then pointed towards a mirror that sat ajar from the rest; a perpendicular flat plane that pivoted outwards. "That's her room over there. She's rather spartan, but what she has she is protective of. I'm sure anything you take would work." Antimony hesitated, wavering in the hallway with an indecisive shifting of her ears for several moments before turning to move towards the door D'hein indicated. "Given a mirror's properties, I don't think it would be the best choice," she murmured and looked about the room. The room inside would be bare bones, as though no one had ever intended to live there for more than a few days. The bed bore a luxurious spread and a single pillow. There was no closet, no table, just a plain wooden wardrobe that hung open and probably contained most of D'ahl's possessions. D'hein took a single step to follow her, but went no further. "Is there something specific that has... better properties?" Antimony glanced over the bed but rather quickly crossed the room to the wardrobe. She closed her eyes a moment, muttering a low apology to the dead for disrupting their home, and then began to sift through the contents of the wardrobe. "Something that was near her frequently, or physically on her body would be ideal," she said as she moved. Her tail hung low as though in submission while she searched. "She should have at least some jewlery," D'hein answered from the living area. The wardrobe would indeed have jewelry, though not a great deal. It would seem expensive to Antimony's eyes, but by Dodo standards it was humble. Even the four elegant dresses that D'ahl possessed in the wardrobe would cause the Dodos to suspect the woman had taken some vow of poverty, set as they were beside a far greater number of more reasonable wools and leathers. Deep below the clothes would be a book and pen. And then weapons: knives in leather sheathes, elegant and lethal. No small number of those. Antimony gave an uncomfortable look to the weapons, considered the jewelry for a few moments, but then pushed aside some clothes to take up the book and pen. She opened it to a random page, hoping it was what she thought. A journal! It opened to a page depicting the layout of a room, its furniture and occupants, windows, doors and light sources all labeled. The opposite page provided incredible detail about the outlined setting; oddly so for a journal. It seemed to be a description of every possible detail of the room, with interesting insights into the the depth and thoroughness of the shadows and the way that the sound of the room's occupants echoed in the corners. D'hein shifted in discomfort, spun a couple of times on the broken glass, listening to it crack beneath his feet. "Unless... Do you need something that burns? Are we going to do some kind of bonfire thing?" "No," Antimony shut the book, stepped away from the wardrobe and turned to D'hein with it in hand. "There would be fire for the body, but this is more symbolic. I will need to burn the sage, however." D'hein's ears shifted back on his head when he saw the book. One twitched, and slowly fell. His eyes looked over the journal as though something aberrant. "That's fine. I'll get the sage, and we can send off that missive to Drybone while we're at it. We can ask the Brass Blades concerning K'airos, and then we'll do the ritual. Sound good?" Tucking the book in one arm, using her free hand to carefully adjust her glasses, Antimony gave a slight nod, the gesture more realized in the bobbing of her ears than anything. "Alright." A pause, and then she was moving to walk past D'hein towards the door. "I am certain all of this will resolve itself quickly once we've found them." "All of this?" D'hein's voice carried annoyance as he followed the woman toward the door. "All of what? What about this is going to be 'resolved' just by finding Aijeen?" Her tail quivered, pulled close to her legs as she walked. "We will know better what happened to D'ahl. And Aijeen... she will need my--" she paused, winced, "--our help." Glass cracked under her foot as she crossed the foyer, but she didn't stop, making for the hall and then the door she'd come in. D'hein Tia continued on her heels. "That doesn't sound like much of a resolution at all. It sounds like you just want to turn the page, and are assuming that once you do everyone will be on that page with you. But what if you're reading out of a completely different book?" "There is only one book." Antimony blinked, huffed, flung open the door. "And that is a ridiculous comparison, anyway." "Really? Because apparently in your book, Aijeen did not kill D'ahl." He followed her through the door, his footsteps quick and heavy, his words the same way. "And in your book, D'ahl being dead is just a footnote. IN mine, that's the end of the book. We're in the epilogue now." "Life does not end with the death of someone you care for." The words were surprisingly bitter to Antimony, and her ears set back against her skull as she began to retrace her path through the hall of the tower. "I am doing my part to help her." "Not just one person. The last person." As they stepped out of the tower, the sound of the party hit them again, the event having continued uninterrupted. Antimony halted a few steps down the bridge and spun suddenly on D'hein, glaring. "The last? Does Aijeen means nothing to you, then? You claim her as a daughter, but D'ahl was the last person you cared for?!" The only person who noticed Antimony's shouting was the huntress that stood on across the bridge, the same who had guided Antimony to D'ahl's door. She looked over at the pair on the bridge, her features wavering between alarm and confusion, but definitely surprised. D'hein stopped on the balls of his feet, tail whipping behind him. "She killed D'ahl." He dropped his head, glared hard at Antimony. "She. Killed. D'ahl." "You don't know that," Antimony hissed, tail twisting about. "And even if--even... You have a responsibility! That never ends. Ever. You can't run away from it!" The Tia's head canted to one side, crags etching into his face; his family relation to D'themia Nunh became visible. "Don't lecture me about the responsibilities of a parent. When I met Aijeen she didn't have any parents. I didn't need to take care of her. I chose to, and I haven't said anything about running away." "She has always had parents; she just never--gah!" Her tail lashed as she turned around, and she glared at the narrow stone beneath her feet, her grip on the journal tightening. "Mourn your loss as you wish," she finally muttered. "I will do what I can to ease it." Then she began once again to cross the bridge, paying no attention to the guard on the opposite end. D'hein kept even pace with Antimony as she walking, practically stepping on her tail. "I remember a time when you were so inconsolable that it took a month of plotting just to convince you that your daughters were alive. And you lecture me about running away." The huntress guarding the bridge stepped far back from the pair, watching them with a blanched expression as they proceeded into the courtyard where the party was. The women dancing in the fountain noticed D'hein's entrance, waved at him, and began to call attention to him. D'hein, on the other hand, appeared blind to his surroundings. Again Antimony froze and spun on D'hein, tail bushy and green eyes glaring wide as her hand closed the short distance between them to jab at his chest. "That is precisely it, D'hein Tia!" She did not look at her surroundings, and did not notice the crowd they were slowly drawing. "I lost everything. My daughters, my--my nunh! Azeyma failed them. But it wasn't the end. You are wrong." Without realizing it, D'hein had become the center of attention. Half of the women dancing in the fountain had jumped out of it upon noticing him, and the others had begun to dance all the more. D'edy was shouting a loud greeting to D'hein, just one of many who had stopped what they were doing to acknowledge him. Even the music had stopped, as the musicians noticed a change in the atmosphere but were unsure what kind of music was appropriate for it. D'hein gestured to the stalled party around him. "This was supposed to be for them! All of this was for D'ahl and Aijeen, and now it means nothing. I'm glad your daughters came back, but D'ahl's not just going to turn up if I'm patient, and Aijeen can't take back what she did." A wet-headed dandelion with a long, soggy tail slammed into D'hein's side bodily, wrapping ehr arms around him. Her clothes had almost slipped off her body by then, mostly stuck to her because they were so wet as to be transparent. "I've got you now, my Nunh!" The Tia, though, didn't even seem to feel her, shifting only subtly under her weight. He shook his head at Antimony. "No matter how many more pages I turn, this is still where the story ends." "You don't know what happened," Antimony insisted, features drawn. She leaned back suddenly, blinked at the woman who'd wrapped herself around D'hein. Her ears twitched, going lopsided in a conflict of emotion. "You can't know until we find Aijeen." Then, tail shivering, she snapped unthinkingly at the woman, "Leave us be." The soaked-through woman, cheeks bright red, inclined her head towards Antimony. "Ah, fah. It's a party. Have some fun, Witchy." D'hein began to extricate himself from the huntress, eyes still on Antimony. "I know what happened. You're in denial, and that's a lot more like running away than what I'm doing." "Oh! Heeeeeey!" D'edy arrived, just as naked as he had been before, glowing with cheer. He stepped up alongside D'hein and Antimony, but addressed himself to Antimony. "Good, you got him! I knew you would. So I set up a mock Nunh-battle between D'hein and a pile of Lalafell: two on the bottom, and one on top with a stick!" Antimony's ears splayed outward and then back, almost disappearing in her grey hair as she stared wide-eyed back at D'hein. At D'edy's voice she flinched, glanced towards the Nunh, and then snapped perhaps a bit harsher than necessary, "We're leaving now." D'edy's fluffy ears lay flat. "Wha-" "D'edy." D'hein found he was able to extricate himself easily from the drunken woman who was stuck to him. "D'ahl died yesterday. Why are you celebrating?" "Uhm." He smirked, paced over to D'hein, and sort of received the sopping wet dandelion-head, who was too drunk to stand on her own but very capable of complaining about her mistreatment. "D"themia's gone. You can be Nunh now. This was our plan, right?" D'hein pushed himself away from D'edy and the drunken huntress. "The plan is ruined. I'm not doing this." He turned, then, to stomp away from them, marching out through the party. "Hey!" With her puffball hair flat against her head, the dandelion's ears were actually visible, thin and pale. "But... I won and..." She suddenly pushed D'edy away from her, violently enough that the man toppled. "Hey! D'edy's no real Nunh! What're we supposed to do without a Nunh? What kind of tribe doesn't have a Nunh?" D'hein answered with a swat of his tail through the air and a shout over his shoulder. "Mourn!" Antimony stood frozen for several moments as D'hein stomped away. Then without a second look to D'edy or the dandelion head, or the rest of the party, she spun to follow after the Tia, tense all the way from the tips of her ears to the tip of her tail. The women in the fountain had long since stopped dancing. The guards stood as slack and wide-eyed as anyone. D'edy sat on the ground and stared at D'hein's receding back. The lalafell with the musical instruments shook their head at one another. And thin woman, puffy hair sticking to her face, stood weak-kneed and shivering by herself in the middle of party, her clothes only barely clinging to her body. She swayed and rolled her head in an attempt to stand up straight, and then shouted at Antimony's back. "What did you do to him, Witch?"

I really think a better solution would be a tagging system to aid in searching for specific types of threads. Tons of subforums just makes the website cluttered and dilutes discussion.

Eh, I'm not a fan of lots of highly specific sub-forums. Unnecessary, IMO. Could help if we had tags we could add to threads, perhaps.

"My granddaughter will be well soon enough. She is strong, and she has the might of the tribe behind her. They will hold her up to Azeyma's gaze even when she cannot manage." The chuckle K'deiki offered turned into more of a wheeze, and she patted her chest, falling silent. A hand the color and texture of ancient stone extended from the shadows then, and the lumbering body of K'jhanhi followed. Red flickered between his curled digits and then dropped until a single bead was visible, strung on thin twine. It swung from K'jhanhi's fingers like a pendulum and seemed to almost glow in the shadows of the tent. He stepped forward, extending the bracelet bound with the single bead towards K'mih. "Your heart is in the right place, child," he rumbled, and his yellow eyes seemed to catch the fire held within the bead for a split second before they were once again consumed by shadow. "Do not worry about what may come from the tia's antics. Focus on the honor of this dance. Perhaps you will learn something from our ancestors through this."

There are a lot of spells across all classes that I think strongly suggest at least some magical power, some possessing more than others. Some examples: Archer/Bard: Wind Bite - I have a hard time imagining what else could do "wind damage" other than a magically enhanced arrow/arrows speeding by so fast that the very air displaced by their travel causes pain to the target. Flaming Arrow - This could either be manually lit or lit with a player's control of aether, so there's some wiggle room of interpretation for this one. All of a bard's songs - Self explanatory here. It's highly likely a combat bard imbues their music with aetheric charge to lend it beneficial effects. Gladiator/Paladin: Flash: Especially its blind effect. It could be some sort of hyperconcentrated burst of aether. Rage of Halone: Could be a cool spiritually-charged spell. Buffs like Sentinel, Tempered Will, Bulwark, and Hallowed Ground: The obvious interpretation here is that the person is using aether, either their own or drawing on the environments, to enhance their own physical stamina, or as some sort of magical shield, or whatnot. Cover: This one is pretty cool. How does one literally redirect pain and injury from another onto one's self? Perhaps a projection of the paladin's mana towards the other person in question that, though extremely difficult to maintain, is enough to shield them. The paladin feels the pain of the attack because the aether is a part of their body. Lancer/Dragoon: Life Surge - One interpretation could include a sort of aether-draining effect, drawing out the target's energies to bolster their own. Invigorate - While this could just be an adrenaline rush, it could also be due to magical skill. All Jumps - The dragon power that lends dragoons their ability to carry out physics-defying leaps is arguably due to a certain manipulation of aether in and around their bodies. Marauder/Warrior: Bloodbath: Like with the spell Life Surge, they may have the ability to drain another's aether for a short time and manipulate it into their own bodies. Berserk - Easily argued as an aether-enhanced rage (though it could also just be an entirely mental thing, depending on the person). Thrill of Battle - Similar to the two spells above, though again it could also be chalked up to just an adrenaline rush. Holmgang - Clearly magical in nature, unless you want your character to run around with a chain specifically for this purpose (which is totally cool). Pugilist/Monk: Featherfoot: Are they just good at evading, or are they using aether to make them selves temporarily superhuman? Second Wind: Obvious effect of drawing on aether to heal yourself in some way, though with a relatively minor effect compared to someone with more specific training. Internal Release - The name of this ability tickles my magic senses. I'm thinking some kind of ability that pulls on the person's aether and just wildly releases it through their attacks for a time. Arm of the Destroyer - When taken in context with its animation, I think there's an argument for this to be a magically enhanced concussive spell. Fists of Earth/Wind/Fire - Some kind of mental stance that could align with aetheric manipulation. Mantra - Words can contain power, in this case aetheric power. It's also worth mentioning the lore of monks as it relates to chakras and how that likely implies a strong manipulation and understanding of one's aether. So yea! It's more than possible to make a case that ALL classes have the capacity for some degree of magical ability. I don't think it's required (e.g. you could easily RP a magically-inept archer or whatever), but it's certainly possible.

The sand shifted on its own accord beneath the miqo'te's toes, and that was all the warning Thal received (if you ignored Qion'to's, of course - which he had!) before a discolored arm burst forth, its twisted hand grabbing blindly. The man squawked and practically danced away from one, two, half a dozen and more limbs. Their fingers grasped at his feet, his calves, and he spent several seconds alternately kicking at them and jumping away before he just flat out began to run. He got about halfway across the pit before the sand shifted beneath his step and a new arm snatched around his ankle, tripping him down to a mouthful of dirt. He kicked at it and pushed away another pair that followed before shouting in forced cheer, "Who the hell puts arms in their sand moat?!" "Would it make you feel better if I told you those aren't just arms?" Qion'to replied. "Would that--no, it would not!" As if on cue, the hand that clutched around his foot bore down, as though something were trying to pull its way up. The head broke the sand first - a shrunken, withered thing, like a grape left out in the sun too long, missing both eyes and, if its gaping, sand-filled mouth was testament, its tongue as well. Thal did not hesitate in slamming the sole of his free foot against that face as hard as he could and then backpedaling in the sand. Observing from where he stood in the darkness, safe not far from Qion'to, the Duskwight muttered, "I don't think he's ever really listened to anyone. Perhaps he's too old to learn such lessons." He raised his old voice a bit. "Get out of the pit!" Qion'to nodded. "I concur. But come back here. The creatures will go back to their slumber if they believe you were recaptured." The carbuncle jumped down from his shoulders, its four paws hitting the ground silently. It lowered its head and started looking for Megiddo's feet in the shadows. "Get out of the pit, they say," the miqo'te muttered, ears pressed flat back against his head. More undead had begun to claw themselves more wholly out of the sand, including a number behind him, right in the way of his escape. There was a thinner patch of them, however, which would take him back to the central platform. Hopping away from a groping hand attached to a half-submerged torso, Thal could feel his limbs tiring from the constant flight, and he let out a string of curses before scrambling forward, pushing through the bodies that tried to trap him. As the carbuncle went in search of him,, the Duskwight kept his gaze on Thal with some interest. His hands hung out his sides, his fingers twitching restlessly. The white robed miqo'te let out a restless sigh. "I think he needs help. Stop whatever you are doing and help him come back here." His voice was commanding and was directed at the carbuncle. The summon perked its head and ears up, looking at him for a moment, forgetting about Megiddo. A moment later, it was jumping happily across the platform and towards the pit. "It wouldn't benefit anyone much for you to have more dead things buried in the dirt down there, would it?" Megiddo remarked with a smirk. Thal's attention was wholly devoted to avoiding those ever increasing number of seeking arms and bodies, so he didn't notice Qion'to's helpful command. When the carbuncle crashed into one of the zombies, landing atop its head with its tail held high, the miqo'te half expected the creature to attack him again. He was gearing up for just that when the blindingly golden magic beast began to bound in circles around him, interrupting undead mid-grab. Thal could practically taste the aether in the air around the carbuncle, and he blinked at it dumbly for several seconds before shaking himself and taking advantage of the unexpected "gift". He picked up his pace as he scrambled around the carbuncle, which was handily gaining the attention of a large number of undead like a lure to fish. It left a blessedly empty stretch of sand between him and the platform, and a moment later, Thal was practically leaping back onto the stone, where he dropped to his hands and knees and tried to catch his breath. The carbuncle hopped erratically between the raising undead, avoiding being caught by any of them by changing the direction of the hop in ways that were too complicated for the crawling bodies to predict. It landed next to Thal a moment after him and walked smugly back to its master with the tail held high and straight up. Qion'to smiled. "Had enough fun?" The miqo'te groaned a bit in frustration. "Just give a guy a break and let me out," he muttered between deep breaths. He could feel his diaphragm pressing up against his lungs, feel the muscles between his ribs flexing with each expansion of his chest. When his hands curled against the ground and pushed him upright, he felt the action of joint and ligament as individual sensations and grimaced. The expression was quickly covered by a short laugh and a shrug followed by the declaration of, "I'm pooped." "I agree." The Duskwight shifted in the shadows and leaned his head in Qion'to's direction. "It is time to leave. Lower the bridge." "No more parley, then? Very well." he answered, and opened the hand he had over his book, releasing a blinding light and a wave of aether in all directions. The spell washed harmlessly past Megiddo and Thal, the environment around them shifting, cracking like a panel of glass and collapsing without making them fall, revealing a bright blue sky with clouds below their feet as if they were flying. Qion'a was gone, but his Carbuncle remained. His sole presence was enough to alter the illusion immediately around it, giving it a shivering aura that made it look like a disturbed pool of water. Thal's tail stuck out comically straight for balance, and his limbs splayed as though to catch himself from a fall he intellectually knew to be impossible. He didn't relax, however, when he remained crouched over a cloud, his body's instincts having trouble accepting what his brain recognized. Ears twitching wildly, the man glared at the carbuncle - his only point of recourse. "Oh, come on!" Megiddo, on the other hand, chuckled. His eyes slid closed, his head bowed. Even in the bright universal light, he appeared cast in incredible darkness. He spread his arms and crooked his fingers like drops of ink spread outward on a canvas. "You need not demonstrate your ability to cage my friend; it has been quite thoroughly demonstrated. Have you no countermeasures for something as simple as a Duskwight?" Though he had not been holding them, his knives fell from his hands, trailing long, thin white cloth as they went. The words written on the cloth began to glow bright and visibly hot, wrinkling the air around him. The colors of the sky seemed to fade into an aura of gray around his body, but the outward signs of what he was doing were merely decorative. His eyes remained closed. He sensed and muttered. "Moisture, mildew, old flesh. Cool, heavy, still." He swung one arm, the polished knife -- perfectly clean and flickering in contrast to the greasy, dark old man -- swinging like a pendulum. It cast a shadow on absent dust. "Weight. Shift. Palpitate. Groan. It's like you're screaming. But screams do echo in places such as this." Qion'to was definitely still around, preparing another spell somewhere in the room, his illusion hiding the humming of the building aether, but not the heat it was creating around him. If he was anywhere, it wasn't too far from where he had been a moment before. His carbuncle jumped up in the air becoming a distorted but still glowing ball of golden light that hastened towards Megiddo with all the strength the tiny creature had shown before, back when it was smashing itself against Thal's back. Brow pulling down at Megiddo's words and actions, Thal worked his toes against the "sky" beneath him, felt the rough grain of stone instead of fluffy cloud and empty air. He could also feel the warm tingle of aether all around them, pressing in from every angle of the illusion. Though his tail refused to cooperate in any logical way - stuck straight out behind him as though he were still attempting to balance on nothing - the miqo'te pulled the rest of himself together and focused on the warmth at his feet. The sky rippled there, then faded, and he grinned a bit at the sensation like walking through a warm, summer lake. He didn't worry too much about the carbuncle's attack at Megiddo; the old man could handle himself. "I hope that you had the foresight to flee." Megiddo lifted his wiry arms and the knives shot out, dripping shadow from the gleaming surface like water, trailing long tapestries full of searing script. One of knives shot towards the carbuncle, digging into its aetheric body as though it were flesh. As the magical beast fell towards him, Megiddo snapped to one side, his feet and hands trailing lazily as he moved away from the Carbuncle's route. After a moment, he would twist and catch himself with an impossibly quick step. The other knife shot off into the illusion, very close to where Qion'to had once stood, chasing not just the heat of his mana but the pressure of the air against his body, the scent of his clothes, the movement of his eyelids. The cloth trailing behind the knives billowed out and swelled against the confines of the illusion, causing it to warp like a melting oil painting. The carbuncle hit the ground silently but painfully, if such creatures could even feel pain. It hoped back to its feet, shaking itself and expelling the knife from its body, much of its life force gone. The knife struck on the mage's arm, ripping through the clothes into the flesh. The impact forced Qion'to to release his spell prematurely. The sky below and around Megiddo darkened, gaining a purple tint. The aetherial change collapsed the illusion around him, but not completely as Qion'to had intended. Random figments of it shifted and became disjointed from the rest as if they were broken pieces of glass. The aether forming them has taken enough physical shape as to actually make them dangerous. They stood still a moment, and then were sent flying towards him in turns. The thin Duskwight kept his eyes closed, turning to one side and beginning to walk towards where the shadows had been in the real world. His hair swayed over his inexplicably shadowed face, his scars darkening into deep crags over his cheeks. The weaponized mana that tried to cut at him flew as certainly as any knife would, unerring and well-aimed. They seemed to be just missing him, though, cutting his clothes and crashing down in his footsteps. Megiddo seemed to superimpose between multiple positions as he walked, though, moving side to side, back and forward, with no outer sign of momentum change and his feet just moving him forward in a normal, casual walk. He jaunted about in brief spurts, out of the path of one shard of mana and into another, then just aside of that one at the last possible moment. The only sign that this took effort to do was the deepening frown on his face. His knives did not return to him. They flicked away from where they had been, the cloth they had been trailing tossed into the air as though caught by the wind. Then the cloth drew back and twisted, flashed hot as fire, and shot out again. The knives were back in front of them, each one flying to one side of Qino'to to arch around behind him. Thal had quickly lost his smile when Megiddo attacked, and when Qion'to brought his own spell to bear on the Duskwight, he tensed visibly, ready to jump in and help. And yet... Megiddo did not seem to require it. He blinked a bit dumbly at the display, forgetting his focus on the aether he'd been pulling on. The bright golden summon, despite being basically dying, lunged once more towards the duskwight in the same way it had tried to attack him the last time. Qion'to's next spell was purely defensive. A new wave of magic rushed out of him, forming a sphere and causing the illusion to break apart further, though its real purpose was to send the knives flying away from him. The knives that flew towards Qion'to did not attempt to cut into him. They orbited him just outside the sphere of mana he made, drawing the cloth and its glowing words in great circles around him. They lifted towards the ceiling, spinning around him and forming the long tapestry into a spiraling shape, before the knives stuck into the ceiling. The cloth hung, surrounding Qion'to, glowing bright and hot. Flickering past the shards of aether so that he stood on the outer threshold of the illusion, closer to the shadows of the cavern and appearing more in keeping with his surroundings. He glanced over at the man called Thal and said, "If you don't eat that carbuncle, I will, and that would be a waste." He slipped into the shadows and became intangible. He seemed to slip into the walls, or just disappear into some trap door. Tail flicking back and forth, Thal called out a short, "Hey!" before grunting at Megiddo's disappearance. He shifted his weight from one foot to the next, eyed the white-hot streamers of aether-charged cloth spiraling around Qion'to, and then the carbuncle that had failed to strike its target. It looked wounded, if a creature made of aether could be such. He rocked forward on the balls of his feet. Qion'to tested whatever spell it was that Megiddo had created around him by conjuring a fast unaspected bolt at the swirling clothes. While he did that, the Carbuncle turned its head in various directions, trying to find its target and failing at it. It did not pay any attention to Thal. The cloth would not break under Qion'to's assault, though it was not readily apparent if that was due to enchantment or just tensile strength. In the circle of runic tapestry that Megiddo had constructed, the air was getting very hot. The Duskwight spoke from immediately behind Qion'to, on the other side of the tapestry, "I am running out of time. I suggest you reconsider my earlier proposition." Ears shifting towards Megiddo's voice, Thal bounced in agitated indecision for a time. "Just drop the bridge, already," he groaned. Qion'to huffed inside his newly created warm prison. "Fine. Lower the bridge." he said to no one, in the same tone he had used to speak normally before. Some mechanism answered with a crack to the order, and a moment later the bridge fell into position, opening a way to cross the pit. Thal grinned in appreciation and mock bowed towards Qion'to. "Thank you kindly." Blue eyes flicked towards the carbuncle briefly, considering Megiddo's words, but he didn't exactly want to try and wrestle with that aether creature; his back still smarted mightily from where it had struck him earlier. Instead, he began to back away from the trapped Qion'to, making for the bridge. "Good sense never warrants rudeness," Megiddo said, keeping his eyes on the back of Qion'to's head. "What precisely do you seek to gain, and to what specific end, in the case of my friend there?" The summoner knelt down in his place, waving his hand over his wound to flood it with healing currents. The carbuncle circled around his master's prison with restless hops. "We want to replicate his condition with others, to make the Oracle stable." he said calmly, without turning to face the old man. "The purpose is purely scholastic." "I see. Your Oracle must be dead in order to commune with the gods. You believe that my friend has circumvented the gates of death because he uses aether to sustain himself." Megiddo spread his arms, speaking in a conversational tone. "If you had said so in the first place, we could have avoided all this. I am interested in the answers that you seek." Qion'to raised one brow, though he still tended his wound. "Are you?" "My friend can teach you nothing. But I can tell you where to look for the answers you seek. But before I agree with that, you must choose one of your brothers to die. You can also choose yourself." "Then I choose you to not tell me anything at all." he replied, smirking. Thal had made it made it about a quarter down the bridge when Megiddo's deal reached his ears. It slowed, and then halted his steps, and he swung his arms at his sides before speaking up in a somewhat uneasy but forceful tone, "Both of you should just mind your own business, I think. Leave well enough alone." "Unfortunately, that is not an option." Megiddo stepped back, the knives broke from the cieling, and the cloth constricted violently towards Qion'to's body. The carbuncle uselessly tried to pull from them, but its non-existant jaw and weakened state played against it. Qion'to didn't even manage to react properly before he was bound, and the sudden violence made him drop his book. "Do as you wish." The cloth bound and wrapped the man from neck to toe. The knives that had at one point been connected to the cloth flicked briefly between the old, thin fingers, and then were gone. "I'm believe your brothers would not have made the same choice. Perhaps they would even ahve chosen you to die. That makes this somewhat distasteful." The words on the cloth began to glow red. "A man has to eat." The words lit up and flared with incredible heat, lighting the cave, warming it, and burning Qion'to's flesh. It was neither a fast death, nor a kind one. The man would bubble and sizzle, smoldering and smoking over nearly a minute as Megiddo stood over him and watched. It was a clean death, though. Not a drop of blood to stain anything. From his spot on the bridge, Thal watched in some silent, transfixed disgust mixed with horror and some small amount of pity. His tail hung frozen mid-swipe. Qion'to's carbuncle vanished as soon as his master was lit on fire, the connection that kept it in its physical form expiring long before his life did. Qion'to's body smoldered alone. The cloth unrivaled and slid away from him as though pulled by someone a long way away, leaving words burned into his flesh. The words were the names of dead Elezen, each one ending in "Desfosse". Megiddo stood on the opposite side of the bridge, against the wall, in the shadow thrown by a torch. The tatoos on his face seemed to have become darker, his silver eyes staring out at Thal from inside of deep crevices. "If you can find the way, you may wish to leave. I will find one of that man's brothers and extend my condolences for their ill fortune." Some muscle in his cheek twitched, and Thal's tail suddenly reanimated itself, whipping left and right violently. "Uh... right," he muttered, grimaced at the stench of burnt flesh and forcibly tore his eyes from Qion'to's corpse. "I'll just, er, get going then." Two steps backwards, then a turn on one bare foot, and then he was hurrying away from the Duskwight and his victim. Megiddo stood where he was, watching Thal go. He closed his fists and opened them again, swung his neck from side to side to test his joints. He would never be young again, but this was as close as it got: the aether of a person's death lubricating his muscles and bones, giving him a measure of the strength that had flown from him over years. Once he was alone, he was no longer there. The place was empty. *** Inside the ruins, Qion'li shifted on his tall throne, crossing his legs, tapping his fingers against the blank metal mask of his crown. After a moment, he waved the other hand, and the gate to his throne room opened loudly, resonating all across his kingdom. The undead outside dropped whatever they were doing and either remained frozen in place or moved to the sides of the corridors and rooms. They raised their arms and pointed, marking the way. The throne room was located inside what once was a bell tower. Now it lied in ruins, dozens of niches carved into each wall going all the way up. Most of them were empty, but in the darkness of some flickered a dim light. In others, the shape of the undead in them could be seen, tied or chained in place with their face lowered to face the weakly bright crystals in their hands. Qion'li shifted on his tall throne again. He waited. The Duskwight eyed the niches carved into the bell tower, more interested in the light than the undead. He himself was cast in shadow, staying at the fringes of the room. He did not come through the door, or make his appearance anywhere near the door. He was in the room as though he had always been in the room, well off to one side and leaning casually against a wall. "Your brothers are not very direct," he observed. "No. But you are." the king replied, still facing the door. "I believe you owe me some condolences." The old man bowed his head, offered an upturned palm, "Condolences." He lifted his gaze once more, smiling. "All of this struggling to capture an avatar of Thal when what you're really looking for is the one who summoned him. Am I correct?" "Yes. We'd like to meet him." he nodded. "The creator is always more important than his creation. No matter how impressive it is." "You will have to search in Ul'dah." Megiddo closed his eyes, pondered a moment. "There were recently a series of deaths near the ossuary in Ul'dah. Four murders by knife, my own doing. And one vicious animal attack, except it was not an animal. Move quickly or the person you're looking for will slip away." Qion'li tilted his head and raised one hand to tap at his mask. "You have our thanks. But what do you want in exchange?" "I will be observing your results. You will not be able to keep me from doing so. If I decide that I require something more, then I will take that as well." He stood from the wall, the flash of a knife between his fingers, but in the next instant he presented empty palms. "I will try to resist killing any more of your brothers." "Excellent. You make my brother's death almost worth it." He leaned back on his throne and gestured to the open gate. The undead that had been pointing the whole time finally let their arms drop. "Unless there's anything else, I believe we both have things to do at the moment." "A parting word," Megiddo raised one finger, smiling. "There never has been and never shall be any kingdom underground, any king, that is not either a Kobold, or a Duskwight. Everything else is just a puppet show." He dropped his hand, and his tone turned almost bitter. "Good day." The fake king chuckled, throwing his head back and, after a moment, decided to let a long laugh come out of him. When he was done, he leaned forward with his arms over his knees, looking around at the walls. He spoke up raising both arms, though by then it was probably only to his also fake subjects. "That is true!" *** The Duskwight stood in Thanalan, in the shadow cast by the stones piled up around the cave entrance. He gave the sky an unhappy look, the horizon a frown. The shadows here were so much more shallow, so much brighter, than those underground. The air was hot, moving against his skin, shining on his hair and making him sweat. The Acolyte of Oschon grimaced towards the sky, "Surely there must be something very interesting in underground that you could lead me to, that would hold me for more than a few hours? I do miss home." There was no god in the sky, though. At least, none that replied. With a sigh, Megiddo dropped his gaze and eyed the exit of the puppet kingdom, waiting for the man called Thal to exit. He wasn't entirely sure how he found his way out this time, especially considering his questionable success the last attempt. Perhaps he had a better subconscious memory than he gave himself credit for, or the air was different and carried scents better that day. Or something. Regardless, Thal managed to shake the disturbing cloud of Qion'to's death long enough to feel proud of himself when he caught sight of the hole of light marking the end of the cavern and the beginning of sweet, sweet open sky. Picking up his pace a bit, he gave a satisfied shake of his tail when he passed beneath the mouth of the cave. The sun felt like the coziest blanket ever over his skin, and he turned his face upward, stretching his back and tail. Megiddo blinked at the man. "Enjoying Thanalan?" He was far too used to these things to be surprised anymore. Instead, the miqo'te cracked open one blue eye. His brow pulled down, though. "Not most of the time, that's for sure." Waving one dusky hand at the cave entrance, the old man stepped out of his shadow. "The underground doesn't count. Everywhere has its loons." "Guess so," the miqo'te hummed low, turned towards the Duskwight's voice. He winced briefly, recalling the gruesome way the old man had smoked Qion'to dry, then shook his head and offered a small shrug. "What can I say - I like the sun." "Not as many living things to feed off of, but on the upside, no Woodwailers. No reason to hide your face." Megiddo pointed at Thal's blue eyes, the first time he'd seen them in years, and then dropped his hand. "If you have not seen Ul'dah, I would recommend it. I haunt there frequently these days. It is a sight." "Do they really grow pumpkins there?" He chuckled once, then his mouth twisted. "Look, uh, back there. Was that really necessary? He was gonna let us go, and you could've just... eaten that pet thing." "It was necessary for what I wanted to accomplish. The carbuncle would have been no use to me, for it had no spirit to snuff out." The Duskwight shrugged. "Those who are not prepared to die should not dabble in death. I will lose no sleep over it." The Seeker grimaced. "I guess. They were into some really... messed up stuff." Scratching behind one ear, Thal cast a look back into the cavern before facing himself out towards the thinly wooded borderland. "Wish you would stop poking at the past, though. There's no point in digging that up." "I'm not trying to discern your past. It just so happens that the person who put you in the ground is of interest to a lot of people. The sooner they go looking for her, the sooner they leave you alone." He put his smirk on again. "That's better, isn't it? They are now her problem, not yours. And you don't care about her at all." Clasping his hands behind his head, Thal rotated on one foot to peer sideways and at a tilted angle at Megiddo. He was silent for a moment and then let out a breath. "Man. You're... right. Of course! Is there ever a time you aren't? Heh." "I try not to be wrong about things." The man blinked. "You've lost your mask?" "Uh..." He turned one way, then the other, then held his hands in front of him and shrugged. "... Yeah, dropped it when... y'know, things. Oops." "If you attempt to go back into the Shroud without a properly crafted mask you may run into trouble... Ah, well." The Duskwight took a step back and turned on the balls of his feet. "I'll be heading back to Ul'dah, then. I think I'm in the mood for pumpkin." "I'll figure it out when it comes up, I guess. Maybe it's still around here somewhere." Blue eyes peered around him, not that he really expected to see the mask from where he stood. Shaking out his tail, Thal shifted subjects rapidly, "Where's Ul'dah? Heck better yet, where am I? Not that it really matters, I guess." Megiddo paused, looked at Thal and pointed, "The Shroud is that direction. Ul'dah is that direction, past Highbridge and Drybone. You are equidistant between Ul'dah and Gridania. Where do you wish to go?" The man turned his head to look north, imagined he could see where the swamp began even from here - not that he really could. "The Shroud's all I really know," he muttered. Though it had been as strange to him as any other place when he'd woken, five years had established it in his mind as at least a place familiar. He'd never settled there, was never completely comfortable under the shadow of the canopy, but at least he knew it. Understood it even. The same could not be said for the rest of the world, or even himself. The Shroud and Gridania were everything Thal knew about himself. Rocking onto the balls of his feet, he let out a low hum. "But, I don't have my mask. And I'm all the way out here already." He wasn't used to weighing such a heavy thought and so, in true fashion to his character, he chose not to weigh it at all. "So I guess that's that. I never did get that pumpkin." The Duskwight nodded in the direction of Ul'dah. "Walk with me. It is rare that I have a companion." "Ahah, in that, we're alike!" Thal grinned and gestured with a flourish towards Megiddo before turning south.

The water dripping down the wall slid onto a shadow, bubbling out from the stone surface to run down the Duskwight's fingers. The dusky old treant stood with his hand against the wall, watching the water with a passive expression. This was familiar and comfortable. He could've spent months in this cave without seeing the sky and suffering the tacit agoraphobia that comes with open places like Thanalan. Deep in the earth, in the shadows and mud, he felt that Thal was given decent accommodations. Though, the man could do without the chains and the cell. Turning and smiling, Megiddo Desfosse looked at the bars of Thal's cell from the inside, standing less than a yalm from the man in complete silence. The first sound the Duskwight made was a click as the thin metal tools in his hands snapped closed and disappeared into the folds of his shirt. As the door to the cell creaked open, Megiddo looked down at Thal, his silver eyes flickering behind his hair. "I wonder how I wandered so far underground. Oschon does guide my feet strangely." His voice was low and rumbling, but spoke with good humor. "As long as I'm here, you might as well introduce me to your friend." His weathered hand gestured out the door, at the sentinel stationed there. The miqo'te, who had let his posture slump progressively further against the moldy wall as the time following Qion'a's exit ticked on, made a surprised noise and jerked upward. His tail puffed out and it took him several seconds to realize the shackles tugging at his arms, which were lifted up in defense, were hanging loose and open. Letting his arms drop to his side, feeling the metal slip off and hit the ground alongside him, Thal squinted at the shadows. He didn't have to see the Duskwight, however, to recognize the voice and the smell of the man. "... You're really gonna have to show me how you do that," he muttered and poked exploratorily at the bind around his waist, happily rewarded - if extremely confused - when it too came free as though it had never been locked shut. The armored guard outside didn't seem to notice neither the Duskwight or the fact that his prisoner was losing his restrains. "There is nothing to show," Megiddo responded, shrugging. "For now, I am feeling very old. Do not let me slow you down. Go and do as you will." Blue eyes blinked. "... That's it?" He leaned forward, peering through the half-open door in an attempt to spot the guard Qion'a had left outside - unless Megiddo had taken care of that, too? He couldn't see from his spot on the floor, so he pushed himself to his feet. Lips quirked into a wry smile. "Gosh, I'm starting to wonder if I should throw myself into your arms or something. That's the right role, yeah?" As he spoke, he inched towards the door and took a hesitant step around it. He then promptly froze upon seeing Century standing silent and dutiful just outside. Century tilted his head, presumably having seen the miqo'te. Then he lowered it, looking for the man's feet. "Er. Hey there." Thal's ear's quirked uneasily, and he weighed his options - dark, moldy cell, potential fight with the weird armored guy, escape. Well, the first one wasn't appealing at all, and though Qion'a had said this guy was supposed to be stronger, who knew whether or not the Keeper was actually telling the truth, right? The red-haired miqo'te flashed a quick grin at the armored guard. "Don't mind me," he said a bit sing-song-y and side-stepped through the door, angling towards one wall. The armored thug tilted it's head violently to a side, twisting his body with the strenght of the motion. His right hand raised and fell on his back, then raised again holding a sword of what surely was a weird garlean design. Its edges were dull, more of a metal bludgeon than an actual blade. Suddenly he grumbled, jumping forward and swinging his weapon towards Thal. The would-be-escapee had been expecting fists like the earlier two, so the sword was both surprising and extremely worrying. He gave a short shout and dove to one side down the hall, listening to the crack of the weapon against the stone where he had only moments ago stood. Twisting on the ground, he scrambled to a low crouch, spared half a moment to consider the wisdom of his actions, and then just went for it. His legs launched him towards the guard in a low leap, slamming his weight into the armored man at waist height in an attempt to knock him down. The centurion's next swing was too high, and it passed above his jump. Slamming against him didn't prove too wise, though. He had an actual combat posture and, coupled with his armor, he managed to absorb most of the hit, his metal feet dragging loudly against the stone floor. His unarmed hand moved to Thal's side, trying to grasp him and throw him away. Colliding with the guard was a lot like colliding with a brick wall, and the miqo'te had only a moment to really regret that decision before an armored hand was grabbing at him bodily and hurling him off. He grunted as he hit another, this time actual wall, the impact jarring his limbs painfully, and only barely caught his balance to stay upright. "Any help appreciated!" he called out, certain the Megiddo remained in the cell, and spun away from the wall intending to sprint down the hall away from the guard. Plodding out of the cell tiredly, his hands gripping a bar as he hunched forward and lifted his tired eyes to watch, Meggido muttered, "Are you sure that you wish my assistance now? I believe you can handle him." There was a third swing that ended up clashing against the floor, where Thal had been a moment ago. It actually made a sizeable dent on it. The sentry gave a small jump forward that became a sprint, dragging the tip of his weapon loudly across the stone tiles. "Haha! Unless you’re too--old!" The fleeing miqo'te called out between breaths. He spared a quick glance behind him, eyes widening at the sight of the charging centurion. He wondered if these things - they couldn't be human - tired. He also wondered if he could even find his way out again. That last thought, however, was secondary to just losing his pursuer, however. He nearly missed a turn off, reaching out to grab at the wall to swing himself around. His feet skidded along the stone, nearly slipped out from under him, but then he was running again. What he saw in front of him would perhaps give a hint at what Qion'li's subjects actually were: there were two creatures, or men, sitting with their backs on the wall, their legs extended halfway across the corridor. They were wearing rags, showing their rotten grey skin. They moved their heads when he turned and kept watching him as he ran with their whitened eyes, grumbling in some sort of confusion behind their missing lips and falling teeth. The chasing centurion did not call their attention, however. Steps faltering at the sight of what looked like rotting corpses, Thal's eyes widened when the things moved, their glassy eyes staring towards him. The noises they made sent his ears pressing against his head. Their smell, a stronger rot than even the darkest corners of the Shroud, stung his nose. He stumbled as his foot caught on one of their outstretched legs, but he didn't stop to see their reaction. As the sentry chased after Thal, a knife flicked past its head to one side, close enough that if the thing had been an Elezen it would've lost half an ear. Trailing the silver knife was a long, thin piece of cloth on which were scrawled a long serious of names. An instant after the knife passed its head, the direction of the knife changed and whipped back the opposite way, pulling the cloth behind it and catching it across its next. In the next moment, the writing on the piece of paper began to glow bright red, radiating incredible heat and illuminating the hallway. The cloth pulled violently back on the sentry's neck with all the force of a hangman's noose. The sentry's spine cracked, the sudden force applied to it being enough to make him fall backwards. Even with that injury, the creature still moved on the floor, its hands grasping around his neck wildly as its head bobbed, unable to move anymore but still pushed by the violent motions of the still living body. It had problems finding the cloth, and so it remained in the floor for quite some time. From the direction of Thal's cell more steps could be heard, though perhaps only by the Duskwight's senses, approaching quickly. Only one pair of boots, running at an even pace. They were followed closely by a fainter hum that signaled moving aether. Someone preparing a spell on the run, or perhaps one that had been cast and was travelling alongside the owner of those steps. Hearing the clatter of the sentry's fall behind him, the miqo'te finally slowed, then turned to look behind him. His shoulders heaved with deep, even breaths as he watched the armored creature struggle on the ground and let his feet carry him backwards. Smiling suddenly, he called out a, "Thanks!" before turning back around to continue at a brisk not-quite-run down the hall. The cloth around the sentry's neck loosened and uncoiled itself, going cool and slithering back into the shadows. It trailed wavey lines of heat in the air. The flicking knife, like a serpent's tail, seemed to pull upwards into the shadowed ceiling of the tunnel. The Duskwight himself was not immediately evident. The guard stood up with his head fallen backwards at the worst possible angle. It tried uselessly to place it back in the correct position, but instead it fell forward. After another moment of fidgeting with it, it continued the chase, holding its own head straight with his free hand. Not further behind, Qion'a showed up in his red robe and his conjurer branch in hand. He was not charging any spell, though. A thin red line of aetherial light hummed and followed him, extending itself with every step he gave. The hall Thal had ventured down did not seem to be going anywhere in particular, which was an increasing worry at the back of the miqo'te's mind as his bare feet slapped across damp stone. Every so often he would pass a room, but he swore off checking any of those after glancing into one and coming face-to-face with a mobile corpse with half its skull and jaw missing. It had groaned wordlessly at him, and he'd high tailed it out of there. A few more times he dodged other seemingly animated corpses scattered in the hall. These repeated sightings were beginning to paint a very grim picture of what Qion'a and his brothers did in this supposed kingdom. All of this came to a head when his run came to an unfortunate and abrupt end. In the shadows ahead he barely saw the subtle shifting of bodies; what informed him better was the stench and the shuffling noises of numerable feet scuffing along the ground. Eyes widening, he skidded to a stop, took a step back, remembered the sentry he'd left behind, and then froze. The centurion, in its simple mind, figured that the prisoner would head for the exit. And so, it ran past Thal's corridor without noticing that he was there. But while his clunky steps left, another ones, that hinted leather boots and a hurried pace, could be heard from where it had come. Tail lashing behind him, Thal took a few steps away from the shifting horde of undead. They hadn't seemed to have noticed his presence yet, at least, so perhaps there was still time... He turned to hurry back the way he'd came, intending to find another, hopefully less disturbing and potentially dangerous, route. The red light that had until then been only a harmless hum at Qion'a's feet passed by Thal's corridor, speeding away in an artificial hurry. But as soon as it was gone, the creatures behind him and hidden in the other rooms growled increasingly louder, raising and moving towards him. One, who until that moment had been undistinguishable from the walls, shambled to him, stared with a single eye, and then moved past him as if he was not there. Qion'a ran past the corridor a moment later, facing it. He came back a second later, having noticed Thal. He panted and leant against the wall as soon as he was sure it was Thal and not some very vivid undead. The miqo'te cringed at the undead, shoving it away from him roughly. The thing stumbled and looked confused, and Thal was about to set back to his escape plan when Qion'a made his timely appearance. There was a moment's pause, during which he recalled the Keeper's previous ready submission, and then Thal rushed forward, intending to simply blow past the other man. Still breathing heavily, Qion'a waved his wand, lighting it up. The aether bolt that was released afterwards hit the ground in front of him and spread, making the stone tiles shift and crack at some invisible weight. The floor became unstable. "Stop!" he managed to shout faintly between breaths. Letting out a laugh as the ground seemed to come to life beneath him, Thal struggled to keep his footing as he ran. The constantly shifting stone sent him against one wall, which bounced off of and, utilizing that momentum, took an ambitious leap towards Qion'a. The red man had time to open his eyes wide and jump out of the way, to the other side, allowing Thal to harmlessly pass by him. The miqo'te hit the ground and dove into a roll to keep from breaking any limbs. Springing up to his feet, he laughed again and declared, "Not in the plans!" to Qion'a's back and then took off running again, down the path he hadn't picked the last time. Qion'a was too winded to actually follow up. He stayed sitting on the ground for a while. The undead walked around him and away, turning at the bend and seemingly taking the same path his prisoner had just taken. Soon, Thal found himself at a crossroads. The corridor split in three ways. The only thing differentiating them was that the one right ahead of him had a small number of creatures walking across its lenght, heading to wherever it lead. The second corridor had the opposite problem: the things were crawling their way towards him like a living mass of rotting flesh. The third corridor, though, was mostly empty. There was one man in a bright yellow jacket and a barrel-shaped hat, a Gridanian outfit, if Thal had ever seen a Twin Adder, his face rotten so far that it was basically only skull. He was simply standing next to a torch, leaning against his spear. He gazed lazily at the wall in front of him. Ever a man of fine logic - in some things at least - Thal chose the third option - the one that wasn't covered in zombie masses. He'd taken on Qion'a's supposedly daunting guard, after all - even if he'd had to run for his life - how hard could it be to get past some mindless undead? After only a moment's hesitation, he barreled down the hall towards the former Adder. The dead Adder twisted its head, immediately noticing Thal's approach and jumping into a fighting posture. However, unlike the previous guard, that was all it did. Even worse, it didn't seem like it actually knew where Thal was: it stood in the wrong spot, nowhere close to where he was actually heading, but still looked ready to take a charging man to the chin. Not about to take unnecessary chances with the guard - even if he was a stupid zombie - Thal just skirted around the Adder, though he spared a cheeky wave at him on his way by. The Adder jumped again, now placing itself where it should have been a moment ago if it wanted to intercept Thal. It remained there while Thal left his field of view, ready for an attack that never came. Not very far away, the corridor curved. The walls changed, showing signs that at some point in the past they had pairs of windows all along them. Most were blocked with bricks and wooden planks that didn't fit the rest of the place. Then the corridor stopped, suddenly, as if nature had grown angry at the place and thrown its own wall in the middle of it. There was an open window in this place, and light and sound came from it. Blue eyes drank in that light, though it was a bit too yellow to be natural sunlight, as though it were water and he a man dying of thirst. He flung himself towards the wall, slamming against it and immediately hauling himself up and through the window. It was a tight fight, but he managed it with some effort. A moment later, his feet hit rock on the other side, and he crouched to catch his breath. His moment of peace was met with the sound of a shattering crystal coming from the window he had just run into. A round, bright golden ball of light emerged from it with the purpose of hitting him in the back. It did so successfully, the panting miqo'te not having been expecting any such attack. The force of it knocked him forward flat on his stomach, and his teeth clicked together as his jaw hit the ground. Ildur: The ball ricocheted from him, stopped mid air and fell to the ground, growing four feet and a long, wide hairy tail extending behind. It openeds its eyes, black and beady, and then extended its head forward. It growled at him. "I shall note to my brothers..." said a known voice behind him "...that your tactical thinking is at least natural, but not particularly smart." Qion'to showed up in the window, with his book open. He extended his arm violently towards him and opened his hand, a bolt of concussive black aether extending from the pages and firing itself at the other man's back. There was barely enough time for Thal to lift his head at the words behind him when the force of the second spell struck. It slammed his face back down to the stone and flattened the rest of his body down to a painful degree, knocking the air out of his lungs. He lay there for a time just sucking in breaths. The golden Carbuncle walked around him until it was in front. It lowered it's small, almost featureless head and stared at him just an ilm away. Qion'to jumped to the window, balanced on the edge a moment and then jumped back down. His complex white and pink attire made his athletism a bit awkward to both watch and effectuate. "How did you free yourself?" he asked with curiosity. Several seconds passed as Thal struggled to recapture his breath, staring back at the strange, glowing creature at eye level. When he thought he could start to feel his limbs again, he struggled up to his hands and knees and forced a chuckle. "Guess I'm just that good." "My brothers told me you would not be surrendering willingly. I'd like you to prove them wrong and forget this useless chase. There's only one exit, and they'll be there even if you manage to flee from me." Setting one hand on a knee, the miqo'te straightened, grimacing at an uncomfortable crick in his neck. "Maybe I'm feeling confident enough to get past them." "I imagined." he replied, waving his hand. At the gesture, the carbuncle jump into the air, spinning into a ball and crashing again at Thal's back. "So what you are saying," The Duskwight said, looking like a trick of the eyes off in the shadows of the room, too thin to be a live and yet swaying like a man, "Is that you are the only one of your brothers present in this part of your so-called Kingdom at this time?" Thal let out a curse as the magical creature, once more a powerful projectile, knocked him forward. He flung his hands out to catch himself, winced at how the impact jarred him deep to the bones all the way up his arms, and then rolled to one side. He froze at the familiar voice, however. To's first reaction was of alarm, opening his eyes and turning to the new voice. He squinted at the shadows, and barely managed to see anything. He quickly composed himself back. The carbuncle jumped off Thal's back, and remained prone, growling silently at the duskwight. "That is one mystery solved." Qion'to stated, some amusement leaking into the words. He waved one hand over his book and held it above it. "I do not know who you are, but I imagine you wish this man to be released." "Good! Young men benefit from a lively imagination." The Duskwight chuckled and leaned forward, his silver eyes shining through his ratty hair. "For now I'd be content if you stop bullying him. Leave that sort of behavior for the Wildwood." "I'd appreciate that, too!" The miqo'te offered as he once again worked his way up and, this time, to his feet. He eyed the carbuncle warily. The small magical creature was too busy smelling and watching Megiddo to worry about Thal. Qion'to bowed his head and said "As you wish." while still keeping one hand over the book, aether building upon it. "I doubt you are just some wandering justicar. There must be something else you want." he added politely. "Perhaps I will test if you are undead." The Duskwight said this happily. "How ironic. Anything else?" Qion'to's voice had not even a drop of amusement this time. Taking a moment to look between Qion'to and where Megiddo's voice came from, Thal began to back up away from both of them. "Tell me what the point of all this is. This place." "I need to know who you are before disclosing such information." Qion'to's aether build up reached a limit, and it did not go higher. The spell was ready, whatever it was, but he was holding onto it. The Carbuncle hopped to the side, turning in the air, facing Thal and growling at him menacingly. The white and pink robed man let air loudly out of his nose, smiling. He was amused again. "You should stay, Thal. You might learn something." The miqo'te in question chuckled briefly but didn't stop his careful backwards steps away from the window. "Oh, I don't think you need to know anything before disclosing anything. But if it helps, I can tell you that I need to kill someone who is alive in order to leave this place." The old man pivoted on his heel and walked further into the shadows. "If I can't decide who, I'm liable to just kill everyone." "I see." To answered, and kept silent, only his pet's grumbling and the humming of the spell on his hand filling the air. After a moment, he added flatly, as if his answer was somehow self-explanatory: "We are creating an oracle." At that, Thal paused and cast an odd look across to Qion'to. "A what? Sounds like something crazy people do." "Oracles exist in the teachings of some older Duskwight clans." The old voice seems to grow impossibly distant in the shadows, as though the lanky man was walking away through the walls. "It is possible. Explain." Qion'to's face lowered, hiding his face from all light sources, his mouth burying under the clothes wrapped around his neck. "Where to start?" he pondered. "It is an old project, led by some wealthy sections of the Grand Companies and various freelance adventurers. They wished to steal Althyk's eyes and use them to see time itself, unfolded and naked, to destroy Garlemald." Thal blinked. "... Yeah, that's crazy talk. I'm gone." He turned then and began to make his way down the narrow path he'd once been led in on, at a quicker pace. The Duskwight lingered in the shadows. "That does not seem connected to the necromancy." The bridge that lead out to the caves and, eventually, to the outside was not lowered. The pit below it was still low enough for anyone to jump down and walk safely, thought it was covered with sand and dirt. "Oh, but it is." Qion'to said. He raised his head to look at Thal. "I wouldn't go into the pit if I were you." He walked a small length towards him as he continued his history lecture. "The project did not go as they expected. Nothing was gained by...researching Althyk. He revealed nothing. Gods do that. Hydaelyn was the next obvious step, but the Mothercrystal and the Echo was not reliable. Sometimes, just as unreachable as Althyk." He stopped. Still with aether in his fingertips, he waved his hand. The carbuncle turned around with a hop and then, with another, jumped to his back, curving slightly so it could keep each pair of feet grounded on his master's shoulders, enveloping his head like just another piece of fabric. "Mm. I should not bore you. The study was left incomplete thanks to the Calamity. What was left was that they found a way to look into the minds of anything, even of the gods, theoretically. But only using the souls of those who had died as conduits. Those whose aether still resonated within Hydaelyn." Rolling his eyes, Thal gave Qion'to's warning about as much care as he gave to the Keeper's monologue: namely, none. Hopping off the low ledge of the central platform, he began to make his way across the pit towards the far end of the amphitheatre, already trying to recall the path he'd taken to get out of this place. As long as Megiddo could keep that guy distracted.. As Qion'to neared the bridge, the Duskwight seemed to be waiting in an adjacent shadow, as though he had been standing there the entire time. "And how does this lead to tormenting our friend here?" Sand and dirt where thrown into the air as a decaying hand emerged from below Thal's feet and tried to grab him. Then another one next to it did the same. And a third, a fourth one. All of the pit rumbled as the creatures buried underneath moved towards the surface, more hands and arms sprouting out of it in increasing numbers. "I told you not to go into the pit." Qion'to reprimanded.

K'deiki's hands continued to work in the sand while her withered face turned towards the girl; she could not see much of either truly, but the former she knew by heart and the latter she could smell and hear, two things that painted a far better picture of Yohko's child than any vision. Her fingers, curled and stiff light gnarled tree branches, made slow, rhythmic lines as she spoke, "Family is the truest of all motivations one might have to take up the duty of our ancestors. From family, to family. It's all that keeps us alive in this place." Her bony, brittle wrist, the skin shrunken up around it, flicked and sent a spray of sand across what she had been drawing. "How are you faring, dear?" Her body shifted, settled impossibly further into the cloth that all but swaddled her. "We have seen no small amount of unrest these days."

Thal was moved very quickly from the road back to the lair of the brothers. The spell didn't last long, so they were in quite a hurry. They crossed the tunnels and the wooden bridge into the 'kingdom'. They avoided bickering at each other all the way, but only barely. They walked some more and finally reached their destination. When Thal woke up, he found his back resting against the stone wall. The room stank of humidity, and one of the walls even had signs of water slowly leaking from it towards a crack on the ground. There were chains and cuffs attached to each wall, of various lengths and widths. He was chained to the wall behind him by the wrists and waist, his chains being long enough to let him walk in comfortable small circles. A single torch hung from the opposite wall, where the entrance to his prison was. Next to it was the red robed Qion'a, sitting on a stool, looking very bored. At the other side of the door, there was another of his brother's thugs, wearing a different, slimmer and darker type of armor that covered him completely. Red ears shifted as the miqo'te awoke with unnatural suddenness, the remnants of the sleep spell's heavy aether leaving a dull tingling in his limbs as it faded away. He lifted his head in a sharp motion, brought his arms up as though defending himself from an attack that never came. The clanking of chains pulled his brain from the confusion of the prior fight to the reality of dark walls and dank air, and he froze in place for several seconds, processing his surroundings. He felt the loss of the sun the most. Spying red robes through a door of vertical bars, he let out a frustrated groan. "Can't just take no for an answer, huh?" A moment later, he was getting his feet beneath him, standing carefully to test the length of the chains - and feeling more than a bit annoyed at their presence. "This how you treat all your guests?" Qion'a's features couldn't be seen, as the torch was on his side, casting most of him in deep shadows. But there was some amusement in how he shifted and straightened his position when Thal spoke. "You'd be a guest if you had agreed to come willingly." he answered. "Now you are just a prisoner. But don't you worry! We'll let you go eventually." The length of the chains stopped him a few fulms short of the door, so he just frowned at it, tail swishing in agitation. "Eventually could be a day, could be a year," he muttered as he tugged on the chains. They rattled in their fixings but didn't budge. The one around his waist cut in enough that it pinched his skin somewhat, making it very unlikely he could just pull it down his hips. Running one hand across his face, blue eyes shifted around the small cell. "I guess it's too late to convince you I'm just a regular guy with a funny habit." Qion'a let out a loud, short chuckle. "There are ways in which we can decide that." He pointed at Thal with one finger, leaning forward. "One of them is to starve you. No food for a few days, I'm afraid! I hope you don't miss the taste of apples." The miqo'te's brow pulled down, but he decided against protesting that, instead turning away from the door to approach where the chains were bolted into the wall. The walls were old and cracked, covered in mildew where the water leaked in. The water in the air had rusted the metal over, which would make it impossible to try and unscrew the chains from the plating. Pushing his tongue against the back of his teeth, he set his hands to one of the metal plates and tried to work his fingers between it and the stone. When the gloves proved to be nothing more than a hindrance, he pulled them off and threw them roughly at the door - a minor reminder at how he felt about Qion'a right now - before going back to trying to pry the plate from the wall. "Yes...about that... I wouldn't do that." The robed man stood up and placed one hand over the thug's plated shoulder, shaking him slightly. "Century here has orders to maim you horribly if any of those chains become unattached from the wall for any reason. Between those reasons..." he added, releasing the armored man. "...is everything! that's why I said 'any reason', you see." The fur along the miqo'te's tail bristled, and he flicked a sharp look over his shoulder, towards the silent, thin form of the guard. Worry twitched at his mouth, but he covered it with a laugh. "His pals weren't so tough. If your brother hadn't cheated, I would've been able to handle them." To emphasize his words, he braced his feet against the bottom of the wall, dug his fingers in, and gave a sudden, rough pull on the plate. It rattled a bit, but all the gesture really accomplished was him jerking one hand away with a hiss. Frowning at the chains, he pressed his hand, where the metal edge of the plate had sliced into it, against the side of his pants. "That is why we got Century to watch over you instead." Qion'a moved back to his stool, sitting and letting his back rest against the wall. He placed both hands away from himself to either side and sighed. "Look, if you cooperate we'll be done very quickly. Then you can go back to pick up apples and court non-existent ladies again." "Cooperate with what?" A grimace twisted the miqo'te's face briefly as he shook his hand, sending a few drops of blood to the ground. "You know people don't generally like being, uh, experimented on." "Harmless! Harmless experiments. We are not going to pull your fingernails off...uh...unless that's somehow related to your raise." Qion'a pondered, then shook his head. "We can start our cooperation with some questions. You said you don't remember anything from before you 'died', but you probably do remember when your consciousness slipped back into your body. I'd like to know more about that." Frowning, the miqo'te crossed his arms - an awkward gesture with the chains getting in the way - and squared his back on Qion'a. "I don't think I'm in a cooperating mood." "What if I brought you a pumpkin? I can even bring you pumpkin pie. We have a fantastic chef!" He chuckled despite himself, but followed it up with a roll of bright blue eyes and a muttered, "The last time someone offered me a pumpkin, it didn't end very friendly." Qion'a's ears moved under his hood, making it look as if the top of his skull was unstable. "You met To! He's very charitable. I'm sure he was honest when he offered that." His hands clapped together. "Now, please tell me everything you can about your first memory. Things like...for example... who was there? Where were you? What did it smell like? Was the sky on fire? Things like that!" he inquired, cheerful. "Was the sky on... What? No." Tail shivering back and forth, he kept his eyes on the shadowed, moldy wall. "I was buried." He blinked, shifted his weight, and then added quickly, "On second thought, still not feeling cooperative." "Please! A temper tantrum won't get you anywhere!" His protest came with more arm swinging to the sides. The thug seemed to catch on that and stepped away from him before his hand could hit him. "I'm not going to release you just because you cross your arms!" "And what are you gonna do about it? According to you, I'm already dead. Not much you can do to a dead guy." He chuckled, but only for a moment. The fur along his tail still stood on end. "Well." Qion'a tapped his chin. "Do you feel dead?" "I feel like a guy stuck in a cell with the rudest hosts ever," the snark came naturally, no matter how wise it may or may not be in any given situation. "Aha!" Qion'a laughed as if he had acquired some kind of victory. "Guys are alive! So you do feel alive. No thing that is alive wants to be dead. So the question is if dying makes any difference to you." He punctuated the flow of his logic with a nod. Working his jaw in silence for a moment, the man who had named himself the same as the God of Death found he didn't like contemplating that topic. He let out a huff. "What, is that your threat then? I can't answer your questions if I'm dead. Again." "It's not a threat. It's a philosophical question! I sincerely expected an equally sincere answer." He walked to the door, looking sideways at Thal. The light from the torch now actually let his face be seen, golden eyes flickering under the hood. "Though if you do want a threat, for some reason, my brothers are divided in what to do with you." His hand pointer outside, towards the corridor. "Li thinks you are a liability, that you are someone's pet project and that they will come looking for you. He doesn't want to deal with that danger." That rankled the miqo'te more than it should have, and he fidgeted with the rusty braces around his wrists. There was a bit of a bite to his words when he spoke, "I'm no one's pet project. Haven't had any trouble for more than five years. Except now." Qion'a tilted his head and turned to face him. "So you were not raisen before the Calamity?" "No. What's it matter?" He almost pointed out that it still hadn't been proved that he was "raised" at all, but he bit down on that annoyance. Qion'a's shoulders shrunk and he shook his head with a sigh. "To be honest? It doesn't. The Calamity would make it very easy to get corpses to experiment upon, and nobody would be particularly bothered by some bodies missing." He waved his hand again, facing away. "I guess I won't get any willing answers from you, so I will stop bothering you for now." "Thanks, I think." There was a pause, filled by the soft swish of his tail cutting through the air, and then he turned his head somewhat to glance towards Qion'a out of the corner of one eye. "Don't suppose there's any chance I can get a better view at least?" "Not without willing answering, no." he smirked. The miqo'te let out a sigh, throwing his arms up with a rattle of chains that echoed in the stone walls. "Is that grudging acceptance or irritated rejection?" "You're the one analyzing me - you decide." That said, he stepped over to one wall, put his back to it, and dropped down to the ground. "There's one way to find out! Where were you buried at?" Qion'a asked, tapping his chin one last time. Tilting his head back until it rested against stone, the miqo'te peered through the red fringe of his messy hair before letting a sly smirk work its way across his face. "The Shroud." "Progress!" Qion'a muttered cheerfully, going back to his stool. "I'll get you some pumpkin for that. Uhm. Was anyone there when you woke up?" The smirk faltered briefly, not expecting such a response. He let his gaze drift away from the profile of Qion'a, towards where water dripped in a dark puddle in the cell. The claustrophobic, underground prison provided an unhappy, if likely unintended, reminder of those first confused hours. It was something he'd revisited in his mind for quite some time, and for good reason. It took a while for the miqo'te to respond to Qion'a, and when he did it was a short and low, bitter, "Yeah." "Do you know who?" "Now why would I tell you that?" He rolled his eyes, but added, "It doesn't matter. He had nothing to do with it." "A man! Excellent. And how dou you know that?" Qion'a pressed. "Got no reason to disbelieve him." The frown returned, the questioned becoming annoying again, especially as Qion'a had proved immune to his own attempts at aggravating the robed Keeper. Qion'a scratched the top of his head. The hood was in the way, though, so it didn't prove very effective. He kept scratching for a while. "How long...? No, that's not a good question!" mumbled to himself, crossing his legs. The stool was not very tall, so he couldn't maintain that posture for long without looking and feeling awkward. His tongue clicked. "Did anyone ever show any interest in you? Including that man?" "Nope. I mean, he's a friend. But people leave me alone." The last sentenc was spoken tersely, and he directed a glare in Qion'a's direction. "I liked that." Qion'a tried to cross his legs again, this time to the other side. It was still uncomfortable. He was smiling, though. "A friend of yours! I have only seen one friend of yours, so let me know if I'm mistaken: that old duskwight man that doesn't like me very much." "You proooobably don't want to bother pestering him with your questions." A snort, and his tail flicked across the dirty ground. "Though if you do, lemme know how that works out for ya." "I'm sure we could get more answers from him!" he laughed shortly. Then he let out a cough. "No offense meant. It's just that you seem pretty oblivious about everything we'd like to know. Anyway, I have two more questions. Then I'll leave you alone for the night." Pulling his legs up so that they were bent loosely in front of him, the miqo'te rested his arms on his knees and groaned out a, "Let's hear it." "Them." he corrected uselessly. "Two questions! Are there any strange smells or any kind of...sensation bugging you since you woke up? Things you can't quite place where they came from, I mean." Giving Qion'a an odd look, the caged miqo'te let out a confused huff. "Well, this place smells like a sewer. But I think I know why." "Okay, that wasn't very useful." Qion'a said out loud. He looked away, at some corner, tapping his hands against his knees before looking back up at Thal. "Do you have dreams, or nightmares?" "What kind of question is that?" He let out a short laugh. "Do you have dreams? Are you smelling funny things? Don't be shy - you can share." "The kind that I need answered to see if you are alive; I do; and the only funny smell is Century next to me." Qion'a replied in order, with a huge smile that showed his teeth. "Y'know, I could just be lying. How would you know?" the miqo'te offered with a shrug. He added without clarification, "No dreams." Qion'a shook a finger in his direction. "That's quite true. But if you are, you shouldn't plant the seeds of doubt in my mind." With that said, he stood up and headed to the door, looking quite content with himself. "I said two more questions, and two answers I got. I'll bring you some pumpkin! Just don't tell my brothers. You are supposed to starve for a few days. You don't tell anyone either, Centry! Or...were you Century? Mm." The thug didn't even twitch to acknowledge Qion'a's forgetfulness. "Great. A feast." The man sighed and eyed the darkly armored guard. Qion'a left the room, yelling from outside. "We won't actually let you die of hunger. Don't worry!" He closed the door of rotten wood, as most things that were wooden in Qion'li's kingdom were. His steps sounded loud while he was close to the cell, but as he walked across the corridor away from it their noise fell until they were gone. At Qion'a'a retreat, the caged miqo'te gave one last, rough yank on the chains. They rattled into the silence.