Almost as soon as Howl stepped into the Quicksand, Ha'ural was by his side.
Howl felt a frisson of shock pass through him as his older brother grabbed his arm, pulling him over to his table. It was his right arm - his linkpearl side - and he didn't dare reach for one. Likewise, when they sat, Ural was on his right side, sitting close enough to him to nearly be touching.
Reluctantly, Howl raised his eyes to look at his older brother for the first time in moons. Ural had always been the pretty one of the family, with uncharacteristic dark, soft locks framing deep blue eyes, but there was a sameness about their faces, their jawlines, cheeks, and noses, that suggested the same father and mother genes, rare in a Seeker tribe, and especially rare for two nunhs. One nunh, Howl supposed; he was hardly worthy of the designation anymore.
"Finally we catch up, Uruh," Ural said, his voice soft but full of power. Howl averted his gaze guiltily. "After what happened to the tribe... I had no hope left, but I had heard you were still seen around these parts. What... what happened to your eye?"
Howl shifted in his chair. "Well, um... various things... since then..."
Ural waved over a serving wench without shifting his gaze away. "Wine, and let's talk."
Howl couldn't well refuse. He wished mightily for Warren or someone to appear and save him. Ural was unimposing physically, but he was a gifted Thaumaturge, and he had a kind of terrifying charisma about him - a mastery, a way of making you do what he wanted you to do. The last time Howl had seen him, Ural had been watching him from the center of the Ha-tribe encampment, watching him leave, stony-faced and condemning. It's all your fault if the tribe is destroyed, Uruh. And so it had come to pass, the tribe scattered to the winds in fire and destruction, though the perpetrators had never been truly identified. Howl felt another twinge of guilt at his own lack of effort there.
So he drank from winecups Ural put in front of him, reluctantly sharing his story, leaving out whatever he could, though Ural's snake-intense stare seemed to worm more details out of him than he had wanted. His mind raced the entire time - he knew Ural might not have good intentions, but what could he do in the midst of a crowded bar, with Momodi's watchful eye over there? He just wanted a moment alone to call up Warren on the linkpearl and warn him - but the wine seemed to be going straight to his head, even though he began looking for excuses to take fewer and smaller sips.
Finally, Ural got up to excuse himself a moment, and Howl fumbled out his pearl, nearly dropping it. His head felt packed full of wool, his tongue a shriveled mess from all the wine - Did I really have so much? - and all he knew was that he had to tell Warren, had to warn him, but he couldn't seem to quite remember what it was he was going to say. He mumbled a few disjointed sentences, trying to comb through the snarl of his thoughts, but no sooner did he have the linkpearl in his hand than he saw Ural coming back toward him from across the bar, the entire room seeming to lurch over.
As the linkpearl rolled from his hand and consciousness left him, he had one last lucid thought - He drugged the wine.
----
He was walking somewhere, up a long hill, in twilight. His legs and arms felt so heavy and tired, as if someone were pressing them down. He could hear distant, muffled voices shouting, surprisingly loud in the empty space, but he ignored them; he knew he was alone here, and he had to keep pressing on to where he was going. Those people weren't where he was.
"... took poison!"
Not his problem.
He wished he had something to drink. His throat and mouth felt so dry. He thought about eating some of the snow around him on the mountainside - mountain? I thought it was a hill? - but he'd done so much of that before - he couldn't quite remember when - that he had no desire to do that now even to purge the taste from his mouth. His whole body felt so heavy. But he had to get to the top. He struggled on, continuing his climb.
"... have to save him - have to..."
Where was this place? It didn't look familiar to him at all, this dark dune that seemed to stretch up endlessly into a black desert sky. He squinted up but couldn't see any stars. The air felt stale somehow, and close, not at all like the Sagolii at night. He missed it sometimes, the true desert, not like the half-tamed lands around Ul'dah. His feet had grown so heavy from not being accustomed to trudging about in the sand anymore, sinking deeply into the loose sand of the duneside as he plowed onward and upward.
"... some kind of crystal. The Thaumaturge made it before he died..."
Boredom really was what made him start listening to what the voices were babbling on about, though it was like listening to conversations in the Quicksand while loitering in the alley outside. Someone was caught in some sort of prison that a Thaumaturge had made before taking poison, it seemed. He only felt the smallest prick of surprise when he realized they were talking about him. He recognized Snow's high-pitched voice, then another person's voice, a neutral tone that he didn't recognize, then very occasionally, Warren's baritone rumble. He stopped walking to listen, the wind rustling the grass all around; he knew that tone in Warren's voice, despair and anxiety and muted fear all in one. Was that for him?
He considered sitting down to wait. If he was in a prison, that made more sense than walking about and getting lost. But he didn't feel trapped. It was strange here, but not unpleasant. He just felt so heavy, so tired.
Had Ural somehow made this? None of this made much sense - but his mind, half-awake and half-asleep, accepted everything without much question.
Howl stood silently, staring up at the unrelieved black of the sky above him, straining to listen for voices. If it was a prison, he had to find a way out somehow. He had complete faith that Warren and Snow would find a way to get him out - but he had to do whatever he could do as well to fight it. They would be counting on him to not give up, as he was sure they hadn't.
And he did feel a faint unease, in as much as he could feel anything, for Ural's fate, for he was sure that if Ural had put him in some sort of prison, Warren would have made sure Ural paid for it.
Howl felt a frisson of shock pass through him as his older brother grabbed his arm, pulling him over to his table. It was his right arm - his linkpearl side - and he didn't dare reach for one. Likewise, when they sat, Ural was on his right side, sitting close enough to him to nearly be touching.
Reluctantly, Howl raised his eyes to look at his older brother for the first time in moons. Ural had always been the pretty one of the family, with uncharacteristic dark, soft locks framing deep blue eyes, but there was a sameness about their faces, their jawlines, cheeks, and noses, that suggested the same father and mother genes, rare in a Seeker tribe, and especially rare for two nunhs. One nunh, Howl supposed; he was hardly worthy of the designation anymore.
"Finally we catch up, Uruh," Ural said, his voice soft but full of power. Howl averted his gaze guiltily. "After what happened to the tribe... I had no hope left, but I had heard you were still seen around these parts. What... what happened to your eye?"
Howl shifted in his chair. "Well, um... various things... since then..."
Ural waved over a serving wench without shifting his gaze away. "Wine, and let's talk."
Howl couldn't well refuse. He wished mightily for Warren or someone to appear and save him. Ural was unimposing physically, but he was a gifted Thaumaturge, and he had a kind of terrifying charisma about him - a mastery, a way of making you do what he wanted you to do. The last time Howl had seen him, Ural had been watching him from the center of the Ha-tribe encampment, watching him leave, stony-faced and condemning. It's all your fault if the tribe is destroyed, Uruh. And so it had come to pass, the tribe scattered to the winds in fire and destruction, though the perpetrators had never been truly identified. Howl felt another twinge of guilt at his own lack of effort there.
So he drank from winecups Ural put in front of him, reluctantly sharing his story, leaving out whatever he could, though Ural's snake-intense stare seemed to worm more details out of him than he had wanted. His mind raced the entire time - he knew Ural might not have good intentions, but what could he do in the midst of a crowded bar, with Momodi's watchful eye over there? He just wanted a moment alone to call up Warren on the linkpearl and warn him - but the wine seemed to be going straight to his head, even though he began looking for excuses to take fewer and smaller sips.
Finally, Ural got up to excuse himself a moment, and Howl fumbled out his pearl, nearly dropping it. His head felt packed full of wool, his tongue a shriveled mess from all the wine - Did I really have so much? - and all he knew was that he had to tell Warren, had to warn him, but he couldn't seem to quite remember what it was he was going to say. He mumbled a few disjointed sentences, trying to comb through the snarl of his thoughts, but no sooner did he have the linkpearl in his hand than he saw Ural coming back toward him from across the bar, the entire room seeming to lurch over.
As the linkpearl rolled from his hand and consciousness left him, he had one last lucid thought - He drugged the wine.
----
He was walking somewhere, up a long hill, in twilight. His legs and arms felt so heavy and tired, as if someone were pressing them down. He could hear distant, muffled voices shouting, surprisingly loud in the empty space, but he ignored them; he knew he was alone here, and he had to keep pressing on to where he was going. Those people weren't where he was.
"... took poison!"
Not his problem.
He wished he had something to drink. His throat and mouth felt so dry. He thought about eating some of the snow around him on the mountainside - mountain? I thought it was a hill? - but he'd done so much of that before - he couldn't quite remember when - that he had no desire to do that now even to purge the taste from his mouth. His whole body felt so heavy. But he had to get to the top. He struggled on, continuing his climb.
"... have to save him - have to..."
Where was this place? It didn't look familiar to him at all, this dark dune that seemed to stretch up endlessly into a black desert sky. He squinted up but couldn't see any stars. The air felt stale somehow, and close, not at all like the Sagolii at night. He missed it sometimes, the true desert, not like the half-tamed lands around Ul'dah. His feet had grown so heavy from not being accustomed to trudging about in the sand anymore, sinking deeply into the loose sand of the duneside as he plowed onward and upward.
"... some kind of crystal. The Thaumaturge made it before he died..."
Boredom really was what made him start listening to what the voices were babbling on about, though it was like listening to conversations in the Quicksand while loitering in the alley outside. Someone was caught in some sort of prison that a Thaumaturge had made before taking poison, it seemed. He only felt the smallest prick of surprise when he realized they were talking about him. He recognized Snow's high-pitched voice, then another person's voice, a neutral tone that he didn't recognize, then very occasionally, Warren's baritone rumble. He stopped walking to listen, the wind rustling the grass all around; he knew that tone in Warren's voice, despair and anxiety and muted fear all in one. Was that for him?
He considered sitting down to wait. If he was in a prison, that made more sense than walking about and getting lost. But he didn't feel trapped. It was strange here, but not unpleasant. He just felt so heavy, so tired.
Had Ural somehow made this? None of this made much sense - but his mind, half-awake and half-asleep, accepted everything without much question.
Howl stood silently, staring up at the unrelieved black of the sky above him, straining to listen for voices. If it was a prison, he had to find a way out somehow. He had complete faith that Warren and Snow would find a way to get him out - but he had to do whatever he could do as well to fight it. They would be counting on him to not give up, as he was sure they hadn't.
And he did feel a faint unease, in as much as he could feel anything, for Ural's fate, for he was sure that if Ural had put him in some sort of prison, Warren would have made sure Ural paid for it.
People have forgotten this truth. But you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.
Howl's Wiki
Howl's Wiki
