The Errant Seedling

[[Rhalkyr receives a twilight blue rose, via Muginn the ghost-feather crow. ]]

[[Asks on commune aethers who it is loyal to, learns it is from Cheliyi, who ‘stole’ it and abandoned the commune, sends her a letter. ]]

[The thin, severe parchment upon which this message has been written has been sorely tested by the force of the penmanship - each rough, yet legible letter so strongly indented as to come near to piercing through to the other side of the delicate sheet.]

Cheliyi,

Your timing in sending me this rose is serendiptious indeed; I have been intending to pen a missive to you for some time, now. I am curious, however, as to what spurred you to do so - To my knowledge, we have not spoken, nor interacted in any fashion that would warrant such a delivery. I shall assume that you are unaware of the particular meaning of the flower and its hue, or at least sent it without regard to it.

I had noticed, shortly after I passed through the Portal of Fate, that you departed the Glomdoring. I would know why, if you would share your reasons. I am young, yet, and do not see why one would be driven to depart from the forest.

Regards,
Rhalkyr

[Pressed into the bottom of the page are several pale pink petals, likely plucked from an oleander.]


You read what is written on a herbally infused sheet of green stationery:
**Slightly rumpled and smeared with hints of bark and moss, the hand writing that adorns this letter is not the most sophisticated. In fact, it seems rather clumsy at points, hinting at an inexperience with the written word.**

Dear Mister Rhalkyr,

Your letter surprised me a bit, yes. I had been sending out flowers because I had too muchly, and while I do recall sending you some kind of carnation, the type is not one I can remember well, yes. It is simply something that brought me happiness, because it made other peoples smile. It is pretty simple, yes, but it is a small joy that I find comforting.

I did leave Glomdoring, yes. It was my home and family for a long, long time, but it is not any longer. I suppose there are many reasons why, but they are long, and not worth putting to paper. They are not entirely Wyrden, either, though I suppose that is the point. And yet, they were Wyrden, in a way. I was a member of Thornwatch, and saw my own difference from Her garden... and pulled myself out. **the penmanship grows especially dark here, as if pressed into the stationary with forceful strokes.**

If you want the specifics, I would not object to a visit, no. My manse is always open to peoples in need. But, I am unsure why you would wish to talk to a random 'wump like me, yes.

May you grow strong,
Cheliyi



You tell Cheliyi, "The sensation of silent regard, as of the flickering image of a pair of lambent green eyes watching from the shadows, precedes a voice that is a ragged and torn thing, deep as the bones of the earth. "Cheliyi. Manse, open? Would hear, reasons.""

The melodious voice of Cheliyi resonates in your mind, "**swirls of grey and brown, a general sense of a barrier erected that is lowered, little by little with clear hesitation** Ah, of course, yes. Just a moment."

[Cheliyi telports to Rhalkyr, who is in the midst of the Glomdoring.]

Cheliyi inclines her head politely, dull gaze softening as she considers the tunnel.

Cheliyi thinks to herself: **a deep ache... they're still singing and whispering.** I am not here for you, no.

Flicking a glance first at Muginn, then to Cheliyi, Rhalkyr cocks his head at a steep angle, his gaze flitting elsewhere. "Strange, to be here?"

Softly, Cheliyi says, "Never strange. Just... different, now."

[Movement, we pass Lillirallia at the Nexus, to whom Cheliyi inclines her head.]

A Gentle Grove.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. A quiet glen of gnarled weeping
willows encase all sides, leaves swishing softly in an unseen breeze. Hung from many branches are
small cicada and blossom origami, as if the willow trees themselves bear fruit. Twilight cloaks the
area, blanketing all in a ghostly glow. Soft grasses and leaves crunch underfoot, the soothing smell
of decaying flora and wet earth flooding the air with each step. Large, fluffy bats flutter
overhead, oddly docile despite their inherent natures. Freshly planted, a small rowan sapling grows
in a clear place of honor, lovingly tended to. There are plenty of spaces for rest, a soft patch of
grass here, a plush expanse of moss there. Piled next to a rather large patch of moss sits a stack
of letters, each paper clearly well loved. A small vase sits atop a mossy stump, practically
bursting with flower cuttings, bringing a spot of bright color to an otherwise unremarkable sea of
greens and browns. A large, fluffy crow's nest hangs from one of the many willows, full of shiny
baubles and small bones of some poor rodent. The sound of a babbling brook seems to echo in the
distance. Little else can be heard, save for the soft woosh of the entry portal. A thick bed of moss
clings to the ground here. There are 3 moss-covered stump chairs here. A painting of Unwanted
Silence is proudly exhibited on a nearby wall, with an inscription on a plaque on its frame.
Perpetually ticking away the hours, the Enduring Clock of Present's Resolution stands proudly
nearby. Muginn, the ghost-feathered crow perches here, eyeing the area suspiciously. Cheliyi is
here. She wields a spatula of twisted vines in her right hand.

Cheliyi pads over to a moss-covered stump chair, her webbed feet muted by the expanse of moss and soft dirt. "Please, make yourself at home, yes."

As the sun passes below the horizon's edge, Mother Night unveils her terrible, shadowy beauty,spreading darkness across the land.

Cheliyi sits herself down on a moss-covered stump chair and makes herself comfortable.

Muginn, the ghost-feathered crow watches you eerily, as if to tear you asunder and find the deepest secrets in his soul. He huffs, after a moment, and clambers up a nearby willow to settle down in his nest.

Masked face swiveling about in short, jerking motions, Rhalkyr surveys the grove in silence for a long moment, eyes gleaming as they flit to and fro. Grunting hoarsely, he cocks his head aside as the toes of his bare feet dig into the grass. "Home, is the Glomdoring." So saying, he makes his way over to the rowan sapling, before which he drops into a loose-limbed crouch, his attention fixed upon the plant. "Similar, here. Different. But similar."

Rhalkyr does not so much as glance towards the uncanny crow, evidently unruffled by the creature's attentions, as he elects to ignore it.

Lillirallia tells Cheliyi, "When are you letting Muginn go home?"

Cheliyi's gaze flicks to the shadows clinging to your form, a flicker of pain lighting in them as she hums softly. "For you, yes. Glomdoring is home. I am just saying, to feel free to do what you need to feel comfortable." For a moment, she fidgets with the withered leaves tangled in her hair, expression pensive. It suddenly tightens, and she glances off into the distance.

Cheliyi exhales softly, letting out a quiet hiss. "Apologies. Anyways, yes. It was... the way I used to see my siblings, I suppose. They have not changed, and I do not wish them to. It is different."

Lillirallia tells Cheliyi, "Crows deserve to be at home with the Murder, not out wherever the selfish decide to rope them. I hope you'll let him go home soon."

Muginn, the ghost-feathered crow suddenly raises his head, staring at Cheliyi with clear worry as the mugwump's expression twitches once more.

Harmony echoes in Cheliyi's mind as she sings to Lillirallia Ebonrose, Inquisitor of Wyrden Purity, "**An eerie silence, as if a clear wall has been erected.**."

A sudden groan emanates out from the surrounding trees, casting deep, swirling shadows in the soft twilight.

Reaching out a massive, rough hand as if to touch the sapling before him, Rhalkyr stops short of making actual contact, instead holding his hand a whisper above the bark, fingers twitching subtly. Though he does not turn to face Cheliyi, his head tilts so that there is a glint of intense green within the shadowed confines of his mask as he flicks a glance towards Cheliyi. It lingers there long enough to register the shift in expression, then flits away again. "Glomdoring home, for you, once." The remark is delivered mildly, without so much as a trace of rancour present in the bestial tearing of the Human's voice. "Distracted?" Then, a beat later, he rolls his right hand towards the grove in a looping, unhurried motion. "Explain."

Cheliyi seemingly struggles to center herself, giving you a weak smile. "Mm. Someone was just...speaking to me. Accusing me of rudely things and my companion. Have never been goodly at managing my anger." A soft inhale, then exhale, and she glances at the rowan sapling. Her smile grows a little more true, almost fond. "I... mm. I did not grow up with other star shapes, no. I was raised by the trees." The expression sours, growing bitter until she closes her eyes and seemingly centers herself once more. "They were good to me, and I was one of them. Like an echo piece, a ripple in the river. But... I suppose I was not truly a person. Very simple. And I was lonely. So, I decided to enter the Portal, and speak to star shapes. Understand them." The mugwump meets your gaze unflinchingly, smile growing mournful. "I did not know, at the time, that it would change me to be more like them. So, I changed, and grew, while my siblings... well, trees grow very, very slowly, yes."

Rhalkyr grows still as Cheliyi speaks, hand lowering to hang loosely from his knee as he rests his forearms atop the thickly muscled surface of his thighs. The only motion discernible from him is the slight rise and fall of his chest, though the occasional glimmer of reflected light betrays the roving nature of his eyes. He remains silent throughout, the quiet he exudes a textured thing, filled with the endless, hungry patience of a watching predator. At length, the ragged bass of his voice cracks the silence, as he says, "Better, than some. No lashing, of limbs. No screaming, or tantrum." Canting his head in the direction opposite Cheliyi, his chin angling diagonally upwards in a peculiar twist, he asks, "Regret?"

Cheliyi seems unbothered by your utter stillness, perhaps used to a conversation partner that offers little in the realm of movement. She offers a soft, bitter laugh, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged atop her stump. "Better than some," she agrees, though her smile falls at the corners of her mouth at the human's lingering question. There's a long, quiet pause, the mugwump's frills deflated and nigh wilting as her look develops into a thousand-yard stare. "I... mm. No. There is pain. There is loss. But I do not regret. I will make it count. I was..." the mugwump trails off again, mulling over her words. "I was too hungry. Too angry. Too passionate. It was something that was making me lose what little of myself I had, and there were newly grown parts of myself that I refused to cut away. So, instead, they rotted." Her dull eyes flick to your once more, glinting in the twilight with a sudden steel that seems surprising for her small size. "I would not cut out my kindness, or my warmth, for the sake of the Wyrd. I will not. Perhaps that makes me weak, and... well. I was the fly. Used and spun round and round to hurt the peoples I cared about. So, I uprooted myself."

Cheliyi thinks: **a deep, rumbling ache, you will not be used again.**.

The thick, calloused pads of the fingers of his right hand drum a short, sharp rhythm against the hard plane of Rhalkyr's shin, in two rapid, rippling motions, before they grow still once more. The stretching gap between words seems to bother him not at all as Cheliyi stares off into the distance, content, apparently, to wait. The broad, white snarl of massive, painted teeth that arch across the lower portion of his mask seem a mocking thing, in contrast to the equanimity with which he speaks - albeit the voice that drags the words forth is uncannily suited to the monstrous mien. "Chose, instead, to hurt others. The Glomdoring. Gods. Those, that nurtured." A slow lean of his head, this time towards Cheliyi. "Soil, is torn, when roots torn up, leave hole."

Her frills suddenly flaring, Cheliyi says, "They hurt me first, yes. Betrayed my trust and hurt the peoples I cared about, all while I was blind and adoring them as I should have."

Voice shaking, Cheliyi says, "I did what they wanted of me. I did my best to become a good Childe, a good Wyrden, but every step, someone would go behind my back and hurt, and then smile to my face like a cheap mask."

Cheliyi's hands ball into fists, the mugwump practically trembling with a fierce expression as the leather of her gloves creak painfully. A soft drip, drip, drip soon follows, crimson splashing against the soft moss. "My siblings abandoned me when they thought I had already chosen to leave them, when I -had not-. My Lord hurt my father again and again, and while He did not have to tell me, I had no clue the whole time. I just -smiled- and -loved- and bled. For nothing."

Cheliyi exhales suddenly, her fists releasing. She glances down at the torn skin, grimacing, and steadies one hand with another. Her tremors cease, and she suddenly looks very, very small.

Lifting a single forefinger to rest gently just below the curved lip from where his glittering eye shines with feverish intensity, Rhalkyr says, evenly, "Learned, to open eyes. Not blind, now, yes?" A sound as deep and shuddering as encroaching thunder reverberates from the cavernous expanse of his striped, bare chest as he lowers his hand to brush the back of mountainous knuckles along the pliant grasses, the gesture slow, almost tender. If Cheliyi's display of emotion perturbs him, he gives no sign, though his eyes flicker to the gleaming, shattered droplets of sanguine liquid, where they linger with an almost palpable intensity. "Try, again. Contain, anger." Lifting his hand, he turns it, palm-down, and splays his fingers, then lowers it in a gradual motion. "Slow. Breathe. Explain, to Rhalkyr." Then, as calm and level as a black pool beneath the Night sky, he repeats, "Try, again."

You think to yourself: The commingled sense of infinite patience and burning, endless hunger persists throughout. The hunger flares at the display of weakness, the blood sending an electric spike of aggression thrumming through his being - held in check by a brutal fist about the ravening desire's throat. "Did not see, true lessons. Did not learn, what was weakness, what was strength. Misguided."

You think to yourself: The cold, impartial calculation of a tiger sizing up potential prey. "Poor control, of emotions. Soft heart. Too open, with strangers. Free, with knowledge." The flexing of ivory claws, a slow and delicious eagerness to strike, balanced with the sweetness of savouring the hunt. "Attached, to others. Bonds, to strangle with, to pull, to rip."

Cheliyi exhales quietly, rubbing at her brow. "I.. mm. Apologies." The mugwump glances up at the wyrden canopy, weary from her outburst. "Yes. I opened my eyes. But I would not dare to think I can see, now. Just that I am noticing things that I did not see before." Gaze falling back to you, her eyes trail the slow movements against the grass as she seems almost woozy. "My father, a long time ago, left the Glomdoring. It was not a happy leaving. They did not want to go, but they were forced to. And so, this angered the Divine, and Lord Silent punished my father. Repeatedly. I had no clue, and they wanted to not burden me, so I followed Him." Her fingers brush absentmindedly over an empty spot on her forearm, the gap perhaps once holding some jewelry or trinket of great meaning. "I followed Him, for so long, while He continued to hurt and terrify my father. He did not have to tell me, and no Divine owes me anything." Her weary gaze tightens with anger once more, though like a pile of spent ashes, none of it sparks to life. "But I still did not know. It still all felt like a lie. Perhaps He just wanted to use my devotion to hurt my father further, or turn me against him."

Once again raising his hand to his face, Rhalkyr makes a flattened oval by pressing his forefinger to his thumb, which he places over his eye. Slowly, he parts the two digits, until they are opened to a slit. Again, they grow apart, widening to display the entirety of his shadowed iris, which is fixed upon somewhere over Cheliyi's shoulder. Once more, the symbolic eye dilates, until it is wide and staring as his own. "See more, than before. Could see more, again, again, again. Perspective." Abruptly, his hand drops bonelessly to smack against his thigh, where it lays unmoving. "If desire, to know - Ask. Answers, often, do not hunt you. Hunt them, instead. Even, from a Divine." Quirking his head so that he regards the ground by his feet, he shifts so that his weight rests upon his left leg, even as he lifts his right foot, toes grasping as if to pick something up. Slowly, he extends his clenched foot, and then lowers it to a spot an arm's span away, and repeats the gesture as he speaks. "Had puzzle, to solve. Had only, few pieces. Thought, could see, whole picture. Incomplete. Assess, from perspectives, of others." With sudden, jarring speed, he stamps his foot down atop the imaginary puzzle, crushing the grass beneath his leathery sole. Despite the violence of the motion, and the manner in which his muscles twitch with suppressed energy, his voice is as languid as ever. "Broke puzzle, before solving." Dragging his foot back through the grasses, toes digging into the soil beneath, he leaves a miniature trail of destruction in his wake, until he sits once more balanced upon both feet. "Departure, broke much, unaware of. Consequences. Narrow, vision."

Rhalkyr flicks his fingers at Cheliyi in a curt motion. "Explain, of father. Who?"

Cheliyi watches the human passively, frills twitching with dull curiosity as he motions the opening of eyes and puzzles. The jarring stomp only receives a slow blink in return, sluggish, but clearly aware. "I do not wish to ask. If I know the truth, it may be more devastating, yes. I have made my promises, and severed myself from Him. There is nothing else to see, not that I want to." Her frown quirks into a faint smile, and she shakes her head. "The Divine are simply them. I was just a foolish 'wump who could not see how I was being used. The other peoples... they were doing what they were taught, by home. It is complicated. I do not hate them, but it hurts to think of them. It was all a lie, and I do not like liars." Her expression deepens into a grimace at the display of harm, a hint of pain flashing in her eyes once more like stark cracks in an old log. "My departure broke things? I did my best to set it up, so it was... easier for the next people to assume the roles I could not. I am sorry, about that." At the mention of her father, her shoulders hike up, until she lowers them with clear effort. Perhaps, her gaze has grown protective. "They are named Gurashi. And I would do anything, for them."

You think to yourself: Suspended within a darkness spun of faintly glimmering strands of ebony spidersilk, a pair of massive, feline eyes slowly open, pupils sliver of utter black. Gradually, they lift their regard from below, to fix upon a single, shining point, which whispers of "Gurashi. Anything, for them." The umbral shroud is parted by shining claws of bone, a vast paw flexing open as it closes in on that mote of light in an almost sensual manner, coiling about it, yet never quite making contact.

Jerking his hand from left to right, as if ripping something free, Rhalkyr rumbles, "Tear free, from web, breaks strands. Always. Shifts balance, of weight." Lifting his immensely muscled shoulders in a liquid shrug, he lowers both his hands to curl atop his feet, knees pressed against his chest as he leans forward to examine the rowan sapling once again. "Much anger, resentment, for no hate. Vitriol. Think self, does not see, what self /truly/ wants." A gradual adjustment of his masked face, by glacial degrees. "Not as light, as self thinks. Jagged, in heart. Acid." Lowering his head, he brings the stark white of his engraved teeth to almost brush against the slender bough of the sapling, where it remains, unnaturally still. "Broke bonds. Expectations. Reliance." At the revelation of the name, a soft, ragged sound of contemplation purrs forth from his throat. "Tell, of Gurashi."

Her tail lashes once, twice, perhaps like a cat watching its prey intently as you inspects the small, rowan sapling. As she stares, a pair of pale, cerulean eyes slip into existence over Cheliyi's shoulder watching with a content air. They blink slowly, simply observing the human as the mugwump seems completely unaware of their prescence. Said mugwump blinks suddenly at your words,
taken aback. "I..." she murmurs, her cloudy eyes wide, "hmgh." Her mouth abruptly ceases its noises, working soundlessly for a few precious seconds until the mugwump grits out words once more. "I... I do not think of myself as light, no," she says, her head dipping low to seemingly avoid the human's glowing stare. "There is a lot of anger. A lot of hate for what occurred. But I do not... hate the peoples. There were times when they were good to me, kind to me. Even if it is all a lie, I need to remember it." Her hand, which has long since dried of crimson, ghosts over her chest, lips pursing. "It is not acid, no. It is a deep burn, that leaves me aching and hurting every day. Some day, the ashes will make for something new to grow. But a burned creature is expected to be untrusting, yes? Burned once," she murmurs, smile faint with dry amusement. At your request, she pauses once more, looking up.

Slowly, Cheliyi says, "My dad was a kepheran, when they were born. They left the Hives and followed the beating of the Dark Heart, and found new family. They were always kind, trying so hard to be kind, even in the Forest. And everyone praised them for it. They were loyal, and worked every day to make their father proud, the Glomdoring proud. They loved everything, so muchly."

Cheliyi's leg slips from the top of the stump, trailing against the grasses as she continues, "Then, they met a very nicely bear. Named Mixter Aschwar. Mixter Aschwar was a priest of Lord Shofets, and very kindly as well. And they told my dad, that they were goodly, and could do anything, so long as they had love and Will in their chest. And so, my dad wanted to join Their order. But they were told no, by the Glomdoring, because it was not considered advantageous enough for the Wyrd." She exhales, but whether it is from frustration or some other emotion is unclear. "They joined anyways, and kept it a secret for years. Then, they tried to tell the truth, after their secret actually hurt someone. But the commune refused to hear them out, and they were cast out. The whole time, they had been loyal and faithful to the Glomdoring, but because they chose to love Someone else in addition to the Wyrd, they were cast from my sibling's shade."

Deathly quiet, Cheliyi says, "They would never hurt my siblings. And yet, everyone treated them as if they had burned down half of the forest."

Cheliyi rubs at her brow. "They taught me about kindness. About compassion. About cooking, and duty, and loyalty. They taught me to grow. And yet."

Cheliyi makes a small clap. "Poof."

The motion of the tail draws Rhalkyr's attention for a beat, his eyes twitching down to it, and back up so swiftly that the motion is a blur - where they meet the pale blue regard of the disembodied set that hovers, suspended over Cheliyi's shoulder. Staring fixedly at this manifestation, his own gaze widens - though not with surprise, or fear, but rather with a growing, fevered intensity. "Not, a lie. Teach, with paw, claws sheathed. Teach, with claws out. Burned, once. Wise, forever. Painful lesson, is lesson, remembered. Good education." The eye flicker to Cheliyi, darting to her face. "Poor student." And away once more, the form of the youth himself as motionless as a statue. The silence that follows the explanation stretches to uncomfortable degrees, the masked effigy of teeth poised still, just before the fragile sapling. Eventually, the silence is torn by the voice, ragged as a dessicated, dead tree being ripped apart, splintering into cracks and rasping fragments, as broken as the cadence with which he speaks. "Lying, is betrayal. Secrets, is betrayal. Wrong, to only speak, after harm done. Like child, with secret." The pitch and volume of his words lowers, tone growing less harsh - though it gains much in the way of subtle menace in exchange. "Soft."

Rhalkyr gestures up at the wyrden trees, abruptly shifting topic. "Why, like the Glomdoring, still?"

The eyes observe, almost amused, only to disappear with a slow blink. Noticing none of this, save for your intense stare, Cheliyi just hums, her eyes dull and cold. "I did learn. But perhaps not the lesson they wanted to instill. If it were truly good education, there would be no poor students." She remains unmoved in the human's rage, her own anger silent and chilling. Eventually, very quietly, she responds to the question. "I will not forget my roots. My stone is cast, and my path is mine to choose, but the entrance should always be known. I loved my siblings, and they loved me, once upon a time. Now we are on separate ways, and I will not attempt to forget them. Trees find memory sacred. It is what makes them, a physical remembering of Time itself." Her soft voice almost seems to creak with with the canopy, an odd power to her words that does not linger, like a ghost of what it could have been.

Quietly, Cheliyi says, "My leaving was not supposed to be in anger. It was supposed to be self reflection, growth. And yet, people seem intent on questioning and bringing anger and hatred every step of the way."

A low, grinding sound throbs forth from Rhalkyr's heavily muscled chest in slow, widely spaced pulses of ragged bass. Difficult to discern, at first, after a time it becomes apparent that the ripping noise is mirthful. Laughter. "Spoken, like poor student." Rising with flowing, feline grace, he turns away from the sapling, leaving it untouched as he steps towards the exit. "Should wonder, why anger, hatred, blossom in wake. Seeds, grow as tree, that bears them. Bitter children, you sow." With his back to Cheliyi, he lifts his chin up and to the side, angling his head so that he fixes Cheliyi with a single, glittering eye of vibrant green. "Tell, father, Rhalkyr wishes to speak." And with that, he prowls off, footsteps silent as a stalking cat, and is gone.

Cheliyi bristles, her frills flaring, until she suddenly deflates all at once. Weary, she glances up at Muginn's nest.

Cheliyi thinks: Bitter children...

Cheliyi thinks: I just wanted to be kind. To not hurt. Why does that hurt other peoples? I just finally see, that they are hurting me. I have stopped letting them hurt me. How is that...

Cheliyi lets out an angry yell, wordless and frustrated. The canopy shudders and sways in response, warping with the mugwump's pain.
Cheliyi falls into a crouch, hugging herself with a grip so tight that her knuckles turn white.

Cheliyi yells, "It isn't me that sows it!"

Cheliyi pants, curling into a tight ball.
Inhaling sharply, Cheliyi stands, and paces a line in the grove. This goes on long enough to wear a path, and she eventually falls wearily onto a bed of moss.
With a frustrated groan, Cheliyi goes to sleep.