Trials, Tribulations & Family
25th Day of Ojo Didi in the Fourth Month of Snow’s Fall
4380 A.G.G. (253 Years Ago)
The Township of Euuil Village, North of the Great Desert
The Continent of Alphava
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It should be understood that the following passages may not be entirely accurate as they weren’t transcribed as they were spoken. They’ve been translated here for ease of reading. Because of this, unfortunately, some things may be lost in the translation from the original Ångëlįc or Dæmönic to common.
Translated passages will be indicated by the use of bold print.
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Tįlåtħ
Tįlåtħ allowed another tinder sliver of lamb to slide down her throat.
Delicious.
Mortals always have been fond of measuring their importance by that of their enemies. As silly as that is. Especially humans. But even in that, this? This is a very dangerous game you’re playing young one. she thought to herself; noting how Astaroth was asked into the privatized cubby by the sunset elf he’d been flirting with.
Once she’d given the boot to her handmaidens of course.
The Sovereign of Hesijua would have you executed if she knew you were alive. Your name is loathed among her Knights. And you’ve caught the eye of both the Lord and Lady of Brŭmal in spite of knowledge thereof.
If weighing your strength by collecting titanic enemies is the game you’re playing, then you’re no doubt winning. To your own detriment I daresay.
And now you keep company with this woman of all women? To have an affair with the Iÿälojä of Koso? That’s the kind of behavior that won’t just make you powerful enemies…it’ll get you killed. Especially given who she’s betrothed to.
And speaking of keeping strange company, what are you doing here little miss; so far away from home? Slumming with the common folk Lady Iēzäñ? And how exactly do we know each other? Hmm…curiouser and curiouser.
She took another bite of her lamb.
Not that this can’t work out for Lumå’įl either way. We’ll need her subjects and her betrothed for the war to come. While I’ve never cared for such games, Christopher would no doubt relish the idea of leveraging this little tryst against her, and by extension, manipulating her soon-to-be paramour. Bonded, they’ll control a not insubstantial force after all.
On the other hand however, this…play date of theirs could have, unfortunate consequences for the sunset elves under the Tuska Mountains should it turn things badly. Her bonding needs to take place as planned or her usefulness could be greatly diminished. Especially if her people don’t survive their little war. Still, even in that, I suppose, there’s still silver lining. If they’re of no threat to us, then they’re of no use to Åmbrosįå either.
One less problem that would pose a possible threat to us on the field.
Either way, a win for us, I guess.
She took a sip of red wine. Washing down her meat; a fine pairing with her thoughts.
But that can’t be why He sent me here. Sure, this human’s position, granting him a tangential link to this woman and her resources, future or otherwise, is…interesting. But he’s…wrong. Odd. Not right. I can’t understand how he exists. Who’s been hiding him? More importantly, how have they been hiding him?
Tįlåtħ wasn’t wrong.
At first, she thought that finding this man would be a monumental feat. His spiritual presence was all but negligible at the onset. But, once she’d moved past the veil into the living world, she found herself slammed by the atmosphere that his spirit propagated. Like walking into a space of deafening silence; it seemed to mute all other dynamisms around it.
Rather unbelievable to her that none of her ilk had ever noticed it before now.
After such an undefinable impression, locating him properly afterward proved to be of little challenge. His soul practically begged to be found. And times like now, when she was able to occupy space within so many feet of him, there was little doubt that he was, very likely, every bit as strong as Lumå’įl had led them all to believe. If not more so. It was little wonder to her now that he was able to weave heka in spite of the metal creature living inside of him.
And not only was Samahdemn’s spirit strong, but it was wholly different from all others she could remember encountering. Almost…ethereal.
Tįlåtħ should have been done with this weeks ago. She should have long since completed her task to engage him; to start grooming him to be ingratiated to the Fallen’s cause. But she’d been frozen with indecision and an abundance of questions. Samahdemn didn’t add up and she needed to know more about what was happening before she initiated a meet-cute. She had to satiate her curiosity.
The voice in her head told her that something was very wrong with what Lumå’įl and Så’Ħdënåħ were guiding them to do. It wasn’t feeling like the complete truth. She didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but she knew she’d know it when she found it.
Following him and his companions hither and tither eastward across the desert border, she’d watched them undertake many a task in their hunt of this mystery woman of theirs; this Katelyn Claire. And it had definitely been an, enlightening exorcise, for lack of a better word on her part. But so far, it had failed to yield anything that would allay her fears, answer her questions or solidify her knowledge.
She wished she could dig into him; drum up the secrets of his mind and spirit.
Had Ca’Ialeth been given this assignment, she’d have been able to delve into him on a whim, as such was her gift. For anyone else, truly reading someone required a certain amount of focus and time. Even then, the reading would still be rather shallow.
She pushed herself to reach deeper into his pneuma; unbeknownst to him, their previous eye contact allowing her stare to pierce his soul’s veil easier than she would have been able to otherwise.
And from what she could see in those brief moments, what she could feel from that shallow glimpse, not only did heka uniquely yield to him, it seemed to be intrinsic to his very being. It utterly constituted him as far as she could tell. If she didn’t know any better, it almost felt…eluvian.
Long had it been since Tįlåtħ sensed a spirit such as his. The closest thing she could compare it to was the Nëpħįlįm, the half Dįvonësë offspring of her former brothers and sisters that once walked the world. Before the Great Fall. But, as far as she knew, they’d all but left the living world behind. Choosing to cross the veil with their full-blooded kin to Ëmpÿrë after the Ten and Five Year Wars instead of continuing to live a life on Mundus.
An understandable decision by any measure.
Could this man have been one of those few left behind? Was that even possible?
She tried reading the heka that had been shielding him from the Fallen’s eyes for so long. But it was difficult. She could sense these supposed bindings that seemed to cover him, dripping off of him not unlike oil. It was thick. Slick. Opaque. It dimmed the light of his being.
Without that blanket, he’d have been discovered ages ago. she thought. “Whatever he is, he’s definitely not human. Even by swalii standards.” she spoke quietly to nobody in particular.
What is it that you have me chasing Father?
She shook the question from her mind as she took another bite of her bloody meal, resolved in the knowledge that He’d not tell her even if she asked.
“Secrets. Always secrets.”
Turning her attention to Samahdemn’s table, Tįlåtħ noticed that his almond skinned companion, dressed not unlike someone’s idea of a sensuous university professor, appeared to be getting anxious. He looked as though he was ready to practically leap from his seat.
I guess that the woman whom they so actively pursue is getting ready to make her move.
After searching for answers for so long, Tįlåtħ had supposed to herself that she might allow the trio to do no more than complete this latest hunt before finally confronting the former Knight, once he was apart from his company. To start getting answers from the source…assuming he had answers to give.
But, as Lumå’įl had told them, they all had leeway to work at their own pace, but time was still a factor. That pace couldn’t be that of a snail’s. And she wasn’t sure exactly how much longer it would take for them to corner their prey.
Aside from that, she also hoped to be able to deal with Jeruian or Waimund as little as possible; and he was always working with at least one of them at any given time. That complicated the situation. Deep within herself, she felt that it could have been possible to work her way into all of their good graces and bring all three of them before her Lord…with enough time. But it was neither part of Lumå’įl’s plans or Sin’s wishes. So it couldn’t be a part of hers. And it was likely best that she side step them all together if she could manage it.
If they do catch up with this Askew of theirs before we can meet however, it’ll be an interesting measuring stick. It will be fascinating to see how he handles himself…to test Lumå’įl’s faith in his ability to do what will be required of him.
It was a scenario that had been playing in her head over and over for weeks; whether or not she would step in on his behalf should he encounter this magi and she chooses not to go with them willingly. Tįlåtħ wondered if Lumå’įl would still wish to receive him if he couldn’t stand against such a lowly opponent. After all, what is raw power unleashed if it can’t be focused under pressure; if it can’t be honed for use?
Would He want her to save him, or let him die?
If our Lord wishes to present this Samahdemn with the Great Drågon, then such is His will. But he’ll need to be made to earn it. None can become one of us without the trial. A Drågon’s submission is the gateway to the ritual. Without it, what good is he?
Jeruian had now left the table and crossed the breadth of the room, but had been halted by the handmaidens and forbidden from entering the cubby.
Tįlåtħ had been shadowing these men, and learning enough about their primary occupation to know that Jeruian wouldn’t be foolish enough to press the issue. Even the weakest of eluvian were stronger and faster than the vast majority of humans twice over. Not to mention their innate ability with heka.
And as he walked away, a failure in his attempt to charm his way past the duo of lunar elves, the Fallen Ångëlįc figured that her time was growing short.
Time to go. she thought to herself.
Or not.
Before Tįlåtħ could stand, a dark skinned man, unknown to her eyes, had the audacity to invite himself to sit in the cubby on the pillows across the table from her without so much as the courtesy of a by-her-leave. His clothing was a dark mirror of her own lighter, more feminine outfit.
Black slacks to oppose her gray leggings.
A black long sleeve button up to clash with her gray pullover sweater.
An onyx ring competing with her mother-of-pearl earrings.
Tįlåtħ was immediately annoyed. Mortals. She hated speaking in the common tongue. But she made an exception to shoo this person away. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you-”
She halted in her words as she opened herself up to the energy bleeding off of this man’s spirit. A familiar feeling. Like home. And as she gazed at him for a moment, she realized that she did, in fact, know this spirit. A vague memory. A whisper of the distant past.
His face was a strong one, as if carved from stone. His body powerful. Muscular yet lean. His hair made up of short, thick and kinky locs; orderly, clean and peppered with gray. Where it wasn’t graying, it was black, yet it still seemed to have an odd reddish hue when the light struck it in a certain way. And a goatee of the same odd colour framed his thick lips.
Tįlåtħ’s white accented eyes squinted questionably at the man for the briefest of moments, then found themselves opening wide; their solid colour melting into a more relaxed, smoky void. “Lb mtn’b qħ. ¿Lk bxtb bwjįu ucj Zåkÿntħos? ¿Ou ĮcƔħ?” Tįlåtħ asked, lapsing instinctively into her once-natural Ǻngëlic tongue, instead of the now slightly more comfortable Dæmönic.
The solid glowing purple orbs which were the man’s pupils accused Tįlåtħ of a thousand different atrocities. They knew her deeds, and looked sadly upon them. “Of course it is me Tįlåtħ. However, never have I been a love of yours.”
“How could you say that, Tħos? Will you not even call me by my name?” she asked, unable to mask the hurt. “Am I not important to you anymore? You don’t think of me?”
“You speak with the words of a woman who was one hundred times your better, from lips that have never known how to tell anything but lies. My name is not one you can say with such familiarity.”
Tįlåtħ suddenly found herself wishing that Kå’Såbåstįånnë’s plea had been heard, and that she’d been allowed to accompany her on this quest. She became distraught at the sight of this man whom she couldn’t help but feel was her old lover; at his refusal to acknowledge the spirit that lived inside of her. Alien feelings fought against her practiced resolve and threatened to bubble to the surface. A longing which wasn’t hers was attempting to erupt from her and she knew not what to do with herself. She needed emotional support, and there was none to be had.
Tįlåtħ wanted to apologize to Zåkÿntħos for the lives she’d ended; for the soul she took. But as her mouth attempted to form itself to ask his forgiveness of its own volition, she forced her lips to contort otherwise and she instead told him- “I’m hurt that you’d say such a thing.”
She knew he’d not forgive her. He couldn’t any more than she could forgive him if their fortunes were reversed. So why try?
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“I am sure that you are.”
“I should’ve recognized you immediately, my dear.” she said as she recovered her reeling feelings. “But I haven’t laid eyes on you in a millennium, at least.”
“Difficult to remember someone when you’ve only beheld them over the edge of a sword, I would imagine.” he retorted with more than a bit of venom.
Not wishing to fight, she simply watched silently as Zåkÿntħos gazed upon her aspect for a few moments; drinking in the darkness of her skin. She wondered if he was listening to the tone of her voice to see if she at all sounded like the love he lost. Did he notice her poise? Did she remind him of her? Did it pain him to see her in the same way it pained her to see him?
“Would that I could forget you so easily.” he said a bit shakily, possibly betraying buried feelings. “I see you are keen to retain your Ǻngëlic visage. I was told that you always did have a fondness for short hair, in better days.”
She shrugged as she searched for something to say. “Drågoon locs can be a bit of a…bother.”
“Is that right? I am not so sure. You must take it to task at least four times a fortnight to keep ahead of its natural growth. That definitely reads to me as a steadfast commitment to…something unnecessary at this point I would imagine. Am I wrong? It is not illusionary, right? I can feel the weaves you are utilizing to mask your horns, to make yourself look more “normal” to mortal eyes. But I feel nothing else.
“It does not make sense to me. Why deny what you are now when you were so ruthless in the acquiring of it? It apparently did not pain you to take the life during the war that made you as you are.”
His anger with her was palpable. Whether Zåkÿntħos felt that it was her way of pining for what she once was and the way things were before his birth, or the expression of her hatred for what she had come to represent and what it took to get her here, I don’t think Tįlåtħ ever figured out. And she chose not to ponder it.
“You needn’t be so cruel to me. That’s an unfairness. That wasn’t the way of it and you know it.”
“No one made you take up His cursed half-saber. No one forced you to…take her wings.”
Tįlåtħ could feel the pain in his voice and the drågon within her ached to tell him how sorry she was; sorry for not being fast enough.
It was so confusing, this love she had for him. It wasn’t hers nor was it her fault that she felt it. Yet, it felt like a conscious betrayal of Dåÿviåd nonetheless.
Her shame was as monumental as it was unnecessary.
Zåkÿntħos may have hated her for the war, but she didn’t feel that way about him. She couldn’t. Hate wasn’t in an Ǻngël’s nature. Not normally. But she understood in absolution his aversion to her. Especially in light of the fate of Athel and eastern Assami.
“Our Father knew that She’d have an interest in the boy.” she said, eager to leave the topic of the war behind. She had to stay focused. And she was well aware that Zåkÿntħos hadn’t stumbled upon her by chance. “But to send the ‘Mighty-of-the-Mighty’? The eldest of your kind? There’s obviously more interest granted here than even Lumå’įl realized.
The use of the words ‘our Father’ obviously wasn’t lost on Zåkÿntħos. And his cringe displayed his malcontent. It seemed to weigh heavy on him. “However long it has been since our last meeting, I do not think it has been nearly long enough.”
If She made us Ǻngëls to be vessels for Her love, then Zåkÿntħos’ kind were definitely made to be vessels of her vengeance. Tįlåtħ shook a dark finger at Zåkÿntħos. It saddened her that they couldn’t be civil with one another. “I don’t wish to quarrel with you. Even after all this time, you see me the villain. Have you even tried to understand us? Have you never-”
She stopped talking and forced herself to think upon his position for only a few more brief moments; resigning in herself to be the old her. To be cold. She had to be.
She applied the proverbial mask of indifference and partook of another slice of the bloody-looking lamb on her plate. He’d never listen to her. And she was wasting time even attempting to make it elsewise.
Since he insisted on seeing her as an evil scoundrel, she figured that she might as well speak to him in kind and play the part. There wasn’t anything more to be said between them. No bridges to mend. Just broken hearts and raw feelings.
“Forget it. You’d not dignify me with a response anyway. So instead, how’s about you tell me how you did it. How did you hide the boy from us?” she asked with more of a hard edge than she had intended. “Are you the one masking his spiritual energy?”
Zåkÿntħos didn’t reply. Only gazed upon her questionably.
“Ah, so it was you. How long have you been watching him? Protecting him? Do you know what he’s done in his life?”
“It does not matter.”
Tįlåtħ laughed hardily; running her hands through her short, twisted black hair. “It doesn’t? Truly? Are the supposed righteous so desperate that they’d so openly try to solicit one who’s so utterly tainted?” she mocked. “This Samahdemn that we both follow is not just ankle deep in the blood and misery of his victims. He’s covered in it. Submerged. If ever there was a soul that was destined to roam the frozen wastes of Brŭmal it is he. Do Åmbrosįå and Sånįgron really fear Lumå’įl and Så’Ħdënåħ’s return so much?”
“That is not for you to decide Tįlåtħ.”
“But it is for you brother?” Tįlåtħ waved it off. Whether the Ångëls realized it or not, they were more like the Fallen than they would ever care to admit. “So, what did you use? What combination of white wards did you invoke? You could not have entreated the heka of the blood. I don’t believe that any of you would reach that far for a branch.” Tįlåtħ sat back against the piles of pillows in the cubby and relaxed a bit as she searched Zåkÿntħos’ face. It was unreadable. “Or maybe I’m only half right.” she continued. “Maybe you only played a small part in this. Was it Mįssħåël? If the All-Mother has gone so far as to have you so closely involved, then he has to have his hands in it also.”
She was fishing for information. And Zåkÿntħos wasn’t going to bite. “I did not think that you would be so keen to readily invoke the name of the Ǻngël who banished you and your ilk so violently, so readily. Or have you forgotten who gave you that scar that you hide under those clothes? Have you forgotten who sent your Father hence the same way? Worry not about who works with me or what powers are involved.”
Tįlåtħ scoffed bitterly. “So you’re alone my dear?”
“Are you?” Zåkÿntħos countered. “Where is…Dåÿviåd?” He said his name with an almost venomous hate; so thick was it that it hung in the air long after the question was asked. “Is he not always at your side? I do not sense his presence.”
“Now who’s concerning themselves with things that aren’t relevant to them?” Tįlåtħ asked defensively.
“Then let us focus on the real subject.”
“Fine. None of this matters anyway. The fact of the matter is that regardless of what individual Dįvįnës, what Orders or what Principals may have been involved in masking the boy, you all still failed to keep him from our Father’s view.”
This time Zåkÿntħos didn’t let the phrase slide by. “Your Father. Not mine Tįlåtħ.”
“Wrong! All of our Father.” she replied with quiet anger as she motioned about the smoking lounge to encompass all beings. She may have pulled your fruit from the Great Tree, but don’t forget who birthed that tree from their own flesh.”
“After She blessed it with Her rib, if I am not mistaken.” Zåkÿntħos countered. “Without that, His flesh would have rotted in the ground where it lay. He has never commanded the Magick of Creation. And He never will. She is our Mother. And She is all we need.”
Tįlåtħ pushed her plate aside in frustration, dusted her sweater and retrieved her coat. “As…wonderful as it was to catch up, I’m afraid that I must take my leave of you.”
“You will not touch him Tįlåtħ.” he warned. “You will not go anywhere near him.”
And now we get to it. “Really, brother?” Tįlåtħ’s eyes flashed into solidity, glowing brightly in anticipation despite her former desire to avoid killing. “I’m carrying out Lumå’įl’s orders and this human will be coming back with me. I’m committed to it. No choice in the matter. And I haven’t the time to dance about with you. Please don’t stand in my way.”
“I already told you no, Tįlåtħ. Go home now, or never see home again.”
“You’ll not stop me. Not alone.”
Tįlåtħ could feel her adzæ-like teeth growing.
“Would you dare to spark the flame of war here?” she asked. “Now? With so many of these…weak minded innocents about?”
“I can smell her on you.” Zåkÿntħos started to whisper calmly; not bothering to cross over. Seemingly not deeming it necessary to display his strength. “Her stolen essence is bleeding off of you. It makes me feel ill that you would invoke her so flagrantly. That you would abuse her so haphazardly.
“But regardless of your provocation, I intend to start no wars today.” Zåkÿntħos continued defiantly. “But make no mistake, your very presence here is an affront to the Goddess and I have every right to protect these people from your Lord’s influence.
“It would be nothing short of a pleasure.”
“Really? So few mortals can stand the sight of true glory before them. How many here would sit in shock and disbelief before my majesty made manifest; not unlike lambs before the slaughter? How many of them do you think would fall to their knees in worship and attack you on my order? How many would trample one another to death to get away in panic? How many would shit themselves in fear?
“Can you really protect them all from both me and themselves?
“Understand this, Lumå’įl’s word is law and Så’Ħdënåħ’s desires are His will made manifest. We heed not the words of a non-present Goddess; the tormenter and hypocrite that She is. And if you place yourself between me and that goal, I’ll not hesitate to extinguish every life in this miserable little town, including yours, in order to get to Samahdemn. I don’t want to, but I will, if it means that we’ll finally have what we’ve always been denied. In order to see home again.”
“None shall die today, save for you. That is a promise.” Zåkÿntħos stated, still as calm as if he were just having a friendly conversation. “Attempt to harm a single mortal here, and I will end you…sister. And the universe will not even notice your passing. You owe me a life. And I will be all too happy to collect today.
“Do you think this is a clash you can win without the half-saber at your side?”
“Let’s find out and be done with it! Let’s see if you’re still the Zåkÿntħos I remember.” Strands of white began to bleed into Tįlåtħ’s hair. Her fingernails sharpened. All the while, Zåkÿntħos, thoroughly unimpressed to the Fallen Ǻngël’s eyes, remained unmoved.
“Regardless of how much power you have wrongfully stolen, I do not, nor have I ever, feared you. You lack the skill to kill me on your own. And we both know it.”
“However, if you’re still feeling reckless and wish to test your mettle, we’ll oblige you.” Hissed a feminine voice from elsewhere.
Tįlåtħ looked over to observe a lovely figure of a ma’jong taking a seat by Zåkÿntħos. Dark skinned, black furred. Her thick black hair braided around her head resembling a crown. Her glowing hazel pupils, which had expanded to fully push her gargantuan brown irises aside, challenging her to make a move.
Both jealousy and joy found themselves flooding Tįlåtħ’s heart in equal measure.
“I can’t believe it!” she said excitedly. Forgetting her anger in an instant. “It’s good to see you again Tå. I’m glad to see that you’re still looking after Zåkÿntħos.” Tįlåtħ expressed as she slowly relaxed against her own better judgement; her body reverting to a more agreeable state. More normal.
“I wish I could say the same…Ëszërį.”
Not the response Tįlåtħ hoped for, but she couldn’t help but smile to hear the Ǻngëlįc fox call her by that name nonetheless.
“You really should pay more attention to what’s happening about you.” the fox stated. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say that you weren’t aware of my presence.” she poked. “Or hers.”
Tįlåtħ tilted her head in the direction the fem-fox indicated to see another young woman who was approaching the table from her blindside. The lunar elf in question was staring intently at her; her hand resting limply to her side, yet slightly open. Apparently ready to receive her Dįvįnë weapon through the ether at any further hint of aggression.
“Our spirits really didn’t resonate within yours when we arrived did they?” the ma’Jong asked.
Tįlåtħ’s eyes returned to their naturally vaporous state as she spoke. “So, you bring two Ǻngëls with you to fight your battles I see. Åmbrosįå must want Samahdemn pretty badly indeed.”
“No more so than Lumå’įl.” Zåkÿntħos responded. “After all, He did send you, the greatest of His Fallen. His right hand.”
Tįlåtħ smiled. “No longer wrongfully referring to us all as dæmöns I see.”
“I was never wrong in calling your ilk such Tįlåtħ. As far as I am concerned, none of you deserve to retain the title of Ǻngël…Fallen or otherwise.”
Ignoring the comment, Tįlåtħ returned her attention to the Ma’Jong. “So Tå’Sånnun, it’s been quite a long time my dear.”
“Not nearly long enough.”
Zåkÿntħos smiled. Likely at the shared sentiment between them.
“Starting to think alike in my absence I see. And you?” she asked to the elf who’d refused so far to sit. “I don’t recognize you moons'-kin. You must be very young to your Ǻngëlhood.”
“She is old enough.” Zåkÿntħos stated bluntly.
Tįlåtħ looked through the crowd and smoke towards the cubby. It was open, the lunar elves had taken back their seats, and both Samahdemn and Jeruian were gone.
Fuck! Lost focus. Now I’ll have to play catch up. she thought to herself. “So be it…for now.” Tįlåtħ relented in response to Zåkÿntħos’ curt statement of fact. She knew it would be fruitless to take all three of them on. The odds were not in her favor. Besides, they couldn’t stop her from keeping her watch and following her Lord’s order at a later time. Time, after all, was a near meaningless concept to all of them anyway.
“Know this.” Tįlåtħ warned the trio. “This man is not of a mind to work freely with you. He knows nothing of the All-Mother or the All-Father. Ǻngëls and Drågoons are as much a færię tale to him and the rest of this world as are dæmöns and Drågons. Samahdemn is a Goddessless killer. No matter how much he tries to fight it, and no matter how much you might try to guide him, that’s what he is. It’s what he’ll always be. And while you three may stop me from reaching him today, I’ll reach him eventually. I know this, our Father knows this, Sin knows this, and you know this.”
“I think it’s best that you leave Tįlåtħ, before you out stay your welcome.” Tå’Sånnun nearly growled.
“Very well.” she stated as she nodded with a mocking bow. “But I’ll be seeing all of you again. Soon.” Tįlåtħ stood and pulled some coin out of a pouch she had underneath her sweater. Throwing down just enough to cover her ticket, she looked into each of the Dįvįnës’ eyes in turn, lapsing into Ǻngëlic as she spoke. “And the next time we see each other, I’ll not be alone.” She then made her way towards the door. “Be a dear and cover the gratuity for me, if you’d be so kind.” she called over her shoulder as she crossed the threshold of the staircase and disappeared upwards from sight.
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Zåkÿntħos
“I’m sorry I had to be that way, my love. We’ll see each other again…Ëszërį. I promise you. Nothing’s more important to me than you.” Zåkÿntħos whispered to himself as Tįlåtħ left the lounge. It was in this moment that he’d allowed the floodgates of the emotion he’d been holding back to open, and nearly drown him in sadness. But he welcomed it. He had to open himself up to his love for the soul Tįlåtħ took that he’d buried under the hatred he felt for Tįlåtħ for taking it during their conversation.
Sometimes, you simply have to wallow in a bit of melancholy, lest it eventually crush you under its weight.
“Are you okay?” Tå’Sånnun asked, as she tended to be something of a mother hen when it came to her long-time friend. “You shouldn’t have confronted her alone like that. Too many feelings. Too personal. You were too close to Ëszërį.”
“Maybe.” he admitted. “Maybe. But, I-”
“I know. You couldn’t help yourself. I understand. Truly. I do. But still.”
“It felt good to feel the presence of her spirit again.” he said wistfully. “I had almost forgotten how, beautiful, it was. I wish I could have told her so.”
Tå’Sånnun nodded slowly; her glowing lupinus pupils dilating a bit more with each movement. And with each nod of understanding, she held her head a bit lower until she found herself with her eyes downcast.
“I am sorry.” Zåkÿntħos backpedaled as he realized that his words had inadvertently hurt her. “I did not mean to-”
“Stop. You don’t have anything to apologize for. Your feelings are true. And your faithfulness does you credit.”
“But it is an unfairness to you.”
“You…you don’t owe me anything.” the fem-fox stated with a sad smile. “You never have.”
Now it was his turn to cast down his eyes. I want to say it Tå’. He thought to himself in the silence of the moment. Goddess knows it is in me. Just because I still love her does not mean… But…I…I just can’t.
Zåkÿntħos and Tå’Sånnun simultaneously released a frustrated sigh in concert with their lunar elf companion, Mē’Cållįå, who sighed more out of relief than anything else.
“For a second there, I thought she might actually do it.” Mē’Cållįå said in the Dįvįnë tongue as she sat down in the Fallen’s former seat. Apparently, having focused more on Tįlåtħ’s exit than her companions’ emotional exchange. “She’s a volatile one, isn’t she.”
“Her agitation was not her fault. Not completely. I was, harsh. Maybe even a bit mean spirited if I am to be honest.” Zåkÿntħos admitted as he wiped away the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.
“She wasn’t always like that.” Tå’Sånnun added. “She used to be quite lovely. But she went too far during the war. And whether we assume her attitude was a conscious one or not, the fact is that she’s not the woman she used to be.”
The ma’Jong turned her attention to Zåkÿntħos. “Mē’Cållįå’s right. We wouldn’t have been able to protect all of these people if a fight had been provoked. This is going to be a problem. We might not be able to wait much longer.”
“You are right.” Zåkÿntħos affirmed. “You both are. Waiting is definitely no longer prudent. Tå’Sånnun, I need you to call an assemblage of the Choirs. We need to move forward. Sooner rather than later and come together as a family. Whatever is to be done, we have to be in agreement. Another war will be the consequence of our inaction otherwise. And I am not sure we would survive.”
“No argument here.” Tå’Sånnun affirmed. “Sitting on the sidelines isn’t an option.”
Mē’Cållįå nodded. “A choice has to be made. We can’t let the Fallen get their hands on Samahdemn, one way or another. Lumå’įl’s too close. We have to cut Tįlåtħ off.”
“I’ll leave immediately.” Tå’Sånnun said obediently. “What are you going to do?”
“Under the circumstances, I see little choice but to talk to Samahdemn. Tonight.” Zåkÿntħos answered. “I will answer to Mįssħåël for it later.
“That may not be prudent. The Choirs will-”
Zåkÿntħos held up his hand, interrupting Tå’Sånnun’s warning. “The Choirs will have the opportunity to speak their piece. Please, just gather them. Trust in me. As you always have.”
“How could I do anything else?”
He smiled sweetly at the sentiment. And he could almost feel the warmth that it inspired in her in turn; lifting her mood. “It is time he was told. If I do not do it, Tįlåtħ will not hesitate to.”
“And Mē’Cållįå?”
“She will stay with me. I may need her help.”
The lunar elf nodded her compliance as the fem-fox’s eyes widened with worry.
“How much are you planning to tell him?”
Zåkÿntħos shrugged at Tå’Sånnun’s query. “Well, not everything. But…most things.”
“That could prove to be a bit…overwhelming.”
“What is there for it? Being coy will not suffice. He needs to be made to understand. And he either will, or he will not.”
“But preferably, when the other two are not around.” Mē’Cållįå, proposed unnecessarily. “I can’t say that I trust them. And it’s bad enough that most of us don’t even trust Samahdemn himself, let alone like him.”
“A bridge we will cross when we are forced to build it Mē’Cållįå.” Zåkÿntħos pleaded. “One problem at a time.”