Unveiling

((After sending a prayer to Maylea, Avaris is mulling over Who else he could warn about Li-varili, and considering his very limited options.))

You ponder the situation.

You think to yourself: "No. I do not think a Divine focused so greatly on pleasure would listen to
my warnings. There are none left to caution, save the Wyrden, and the Traitors - And They will not
listen at all. Worse, trying might open the door to unnecessary trouble. I have done what I can, in
this regard."

As if parting through mists of water and light, the Empyreal Goddess quietly unveils Her soothing
presence to Her Faithful.

Avaris's antennae flick up alertly.

(The Avowing): You say, "Good evening to You, Lady. Are You well?"

(The Avowing): Lantra says, "I am as well as one can be in this time of uncertainty."

(The Avowing): Lantra says, "And you, Blessed Avaris? How does the Light find you?"

The red swathes of Avaris's antennae curve down in a faint frown.

You think to yourself: "It is unlike Her to speak so. She must be troubled, indeed."

(The Avowing): You say, "Much the same, I believe, Lady. Troubled, but hale. Is there anything that
might be done for You?"

(The Avowing): Lantra says, "That is ever the difficulty of problems and concerns -- they are
readily apparent, but not so readily solved, nor answered."

(The Avowing): Lantra says, "What troubles you?"

(The Avowing): You say, "Mm. Not all are as perspicacious as You, Lady. I do not think many care to
see matters for what they are, of late."

(The Avowing): You say, "Ah. The Lady of the Lagoons, largely."

(The Avowing): You say, "And the Silent One, to a less pressing degree."

(The Avowing): Lantra says, "Indeed, there are seemingly endless sources from which to draw
concern."

Soothing winds blow in with a calming sigh, drawing a veil of water and light that reveals a hazy
figure standing alone in the mist.

Within a spherical pearl white study.
The rippling sound of flowing celestial waters echoes distantly from a healing shrine of Lantra
nearby. This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. A long faceted window curves
horizontally along the surface of this spherical room, through which a distorted view of the outside
world can be seen. Smooth, pearly white leather pads the walls such that no sound is able to enter,
or escape, its boundaries. Recessed slightly into the northern end is an alcove just large enough to
fit a desk and chair, illuminated by a lone paper lantern that hangs discreetly from the ceiling.
Hazy mists obscure this veiled figure from view, her silhouette shrouded in starlight.
You see a single exit leading southeast.


Barely discernible in a haze of mist, this veiled figure possesses a feminine silhouette that is at
once here and not, as if her true being is beyond true comprehension. She moves with the mystical
grace of water; at times, her very existence ripples like the reflection of a gazing pool, while
other moments, she blurs like a mirage dancing in the light. Starlight shrouds her in a white mantle
of sidereal radiance, twinkling to reveal countless constellations that form and reform to robe her
in the full panoramic vista of the stars. Within her hands, a single star lotus radiates a celestial
glow, blossoming in eternal bloom.
A veiled figure shrouded in starlight does not even register your presence as a threat.

Antennae snapping upright in surprise, Avaris immediately falls to one knee,
pressing his hands atop his heart with a sharp clack of chitin striking his armoured carapace. "Lady
Empyreal."

The haze of mist shimmers and parts briefly as a veiled figure shrouded in starlight bows Her head
in assent. "Tell Me, child. Which do you fear more -- the Silent Lord, or the Lady of the Lagoons?"

The sanguine banners of Avaris's quivering antennae still, then gradually bend down
and forward, as if yielding to the inexorable pull of gravity as he frowns. "I think that I fear
Them equally, in a way, Lady. It is a question of immediacy. The Lady of the Lagoons is a more
present, potentially explosive threat, that could plunge the world into chaos at a moment's notice."
The flared ridges of his jaw shift upwards as he tilts his head aside, continuing, "On the other
hand, the Silent Lord's true danger lies in the subtle, pervasive way in which He appears to act. He
will be more dangerous by far, in the long term, I believe."

Your answers are silently weighed by a veiled figure shrouded in starlight as shifting motes of
light twirl about Her in languid arcs. "The Silent Lord will retain His hold on the Glomdoring and
its people. He has long left the mark of His actions on the Basin of Life. In this," the Goddess
says, a faint star shining in Her palm, "He can be predictable. And predictability leads to patterns
of behavior."

You think to yourself: "Patterns that can be prepared for, or exploited."

Avaris listens with a near palpable acuity, every lambent, light-forged eyes gazing
raptly at a veiled figure shrouded in starlight as he absorbs the words with obvious care. He dips
his head in a minute gesture, once, his plated chest rising and falling in slow, measured rhythm.

"Li-varili is a volatile being," a veiled figure shrouded in starlight says, the judgment spoken
with the calm and composed nature of a healer diagnosing an affliction. "What She desires is
unknown. Whom might ally with Her for such ends is likewise unknown. She cannot be predicted, as the
Silent Lord can." There is a long, lengthy pause that falls as the mantle of sparkling mist
twinkles, reflecting heavy contemplation.

You think to yourself: A grim acceptance of Wisdom delivered from its purest source. "What cannot be
predicted cannot be reliably countered. When an unknown foe marches upon you, you do not know
whether to prepare for a siege, or go on the move. Troubling."

A soothing wind ripples the mists as the Goddess sighs. A veiled figure shrouded in starlight says,
"Yet the Goddess is weak, Avaris. So much time in torment does not heal in isolation. Not even the
offerings of every mortal in the Basin could have accounted for the horror She has endured."

The index finger of Avaris's outermost hand taps steadily upon the bladed knuckle
beneath it, each quiet impact spaced far apart as he listens in thoughtful silence. "That was my
estimation as well, Lady. She is loathe to engage another Elder directly, I feel. Yet a weakened foe
can be all the more danger for their desperation, or being forced to turn to other, craftier
methods, rather than relying on might." A low, resonating hum vibrates from the kephera, the sound
displeased. "Do You believe She will seek other sources of power, if offerings are not sufficient?
The Seals, perhaps, or elsewhere?"

"It is a possibility. I find it does not serve Me to presume the intents of My cousins, particularly
those whom I know of least," a veiled figure shrouded in starlight says. The frothing white mists
churn almost like waves about the figure, surrounding her in endless ripples of light. "You speak
with such certainty of events, it is as if you believe yourself given a premontion from the Verse of
Magnora itself."

The measured tapping comes to an abrupt halt as Avaris lowers his head further
still, until his visored visage faces the floor, antennae flicking back to lie flat across the dome
of his helmed head. "I am sorry, Lady. I should not do so. I know that I do not possess my
forebear's prescience." Bending at the waist in a kneeling bow of contrition, his voice is quiet as
he says, "I will not speak so again."

"It is not a rebuke," a calm voice emanates from a veiled figure shrouded in starlight as the mists
thin, their constellations dizzying in familiar outlines as they twinkle across her cloak. "You will
find precious few of My cousins are to be trifled with, however."

You have emoted: Avaris makes no response to the first statement, instead maintaining his penitent
posture, the clawed tips of his outermost hand scraping quietly along the back of his gilded chitin,
marring the soft reflections of a veiled figure shrouded in starlight's sidereal light - Only to
cease as the source of the luminescence draws near, eliciting a subtle diminishing of the tightly
wound manner in which he holds himself. The great, spiked pauldrons of his shoulder lower as the
chitin-plated muscle relaxes, even as the clenching fingers smooth out flat once more. He does not
speak immediately, or, indeed, for some time, but when he does, the harmonic, faintly vibrating tone
of his voice is soft, a strange mix of fondness and something wistful in his words. "You are ever
calming me, Lady. That is not how I wish it to be, between the two of us. I will strive for better."
After a beat, he nods, the gesture firm. "I know that They are not. None are, for a mortal. I just
do not wish to simply sit idly by. I am doing what I can, though perhaps I should not."

In deference to your request, the tranquil presence of the starry motes of light dims and softens,
growing pale and wan with a gentle motion of a veiled figure shrouded in starlight's hand. For a
moment, Her veiled countenance is unreadable, though there is a patience in Her silence. "It is the
burden of those who see Wisdom," She says at last, each word resonant with a hollow echo, "to suffer
the ignorance of the many who do not."
12300h, 5800m, 6300e, 10p Bex-
The soft lambency of passing hummingbirds filters in from outside, shedding light on a dark night.
12300h, 5800m, 6300e, 10p Bex-
The star lotus within the hands of a veiled figure shrouded in starlight brightens with new vibrancy
as the Goddess's words hang in the silence, filling the air with its gentle glow.

You think to yourself: The words are turned over and over in his mind, examined carefully from every
conceivable angle as he seeks to interpret their intention clearly. He is hardly one of those that
sees Wisdom - Had She not brought him to that very Font, so recently? That left ignorance, then.
12300h, 5800m, 6300e, 10p Bex-
You have emoted: As the starlight recedes in tandem with the soothing effect of its presence,
Avaris's shoulders shift up slightly, in the manner of one shrugging a set of fieldplate into a more
readied position. Dipping his head towards a veiled figure shrouded in starlight once more, he
speaks softer still, a gentle quality to his myriad voices. "Ah. I hope that You do not think me
ungrateful, Lady. I am deeply thankful for Your care. I do not wish to tax You, or be a burden upon
You." Lapsing into silence, he stares at the floor for a time, antennae curling down to point along
his gaze. "I do not wish to make You suffer, Lady. Knowingly, or in ignorance. What can I do?"

At the mention of suffering, a veiled figure shrouded in starlight falls silent, although the mists
that wreathe Her form become hazier, shimmering with cosmic energy. "No. Not ungrateful. For this
desire to calm is an ancient instinct, long instilled in Me perhaps since Dynara first drew Me into
form. I believe it is one reason Eventru and I worked so well together: for He held a much known
temper among the Firsts, while I tempered My own."

Robed figures of the Hamadhi flash before your mind, hushed whispers that silence at your approach.
Among Them, you hear a male voice -- Carsini's -- which you do not recognize but is nonetheless as
familiar to you as the Lady's: "Eventru has coddled you too much. The vote on the Elixir has been
decided. The Hamadhi must abide that ruling." There is a flicker of silent anger, resentment, even
humiliation as the the images break apart into shadows, banished by the renewed light the sidereal
figure.

You think to yourself: A flicker of surprise, bright and silvery as lightning. Lord Eventru had a
temper? So much so that it was well known among His Circle? It seemed he knew little indeed of that
Elder. If not ungrateful, though - Then what? His thoughts pause, abandoned in favour of affording
the vision the totality of his focus. Curiosity, as ever is the case with Her memories, is keen and
bright as a polished sword - One which creaks under the sudden pressure of tightly restrained anger
that spikes and buzzes with crackling, barely suppressed fury. How /dare/ He, that voice, say such a
thing.

The smaller antennae that lie behind the sharply glinting barrier of the outer
edges of Avaris's bladed crest flick upright in surprise, quivering faintly as if struck a gentle
blow. The wings folded tightly upon his back shift, feathers whispering against one another in a
hushed susurrration, only to grow abruptly still - And then flood with a baleful, violently crimson
light that bathes the white chamber in sullen hues of red. The chitin of his fingers groans as he
clenches his fists, squeezing them tight as he strives to rein in his temper - And manages to do so
sufficiently that the carmine glare subsides to low, resentful embers. At length, his voice oddly
calm despite his evident agitation, he asks, "Why do You temper Your anger, Lady? You have been
wronged so very many times. How do You not simply...Erupt, from containing all that fury?"

At once, the light flaring from from the veiled figure hangs heavy and oppressive in the air,
blinding it its incandescent fury. Your surroundings dim and pale before this all-consuming
brilliance, which shines cold and glaring as sharpened starlight. Amidst the maelstrom of starlit
mists, Her figure remains stoic and poised -- Hers is a silent wrath, the calm before the inevitable
storm.

Then, as swiftly as it appears, the brief display of power ebbs and fades, a veiled figure shrouded
in starlight now nothing more than the indistinct silhouette She was but moments prior. Shadows once
more encroach on your surroundings; the world appears more vibrant, and less faded.

"Wrath, like any weapon, has its time and place," a veiled figure shrouded in starlight says softly.
"Rarely does the opportunity for its utility arise before a healing mound."

You think to yourself: Awe. The awe one feels when standing close to an overwhelming display of
force, of ineffable fury - The heat of a volcanic eruption that sears the skin, the light of a star
detonating in a wash of unspeakable power. There is the awareness that he should be afraid - Deeply,
soul-shiveringly afraid - But he cannot bring himself to fear that which he loves with all his
heart. The terrible, fascinating splendor of the wrath is, to him, a phenomenon of inexpressable
beauty, a deadly work of art built from blades of searing starlight - Something never to be touched,
though it draws him, pulls on his very being with a force more inexorable, more implacable than
gravity itself.

The hues that Avaris is painted from are washed away, diluted to near a total lack
of pigment in the face of a veiled figure shrouded in starlight's unveiled anger. The gold of his
carapace bleaches to a silver so pale it seems more metallic white, even as the red that fills his
wings is swept away before the force of what is bared to him. He does not hunch, or cower - Rather,
though the light-forged eyes of his wings thin, they do not, /can/ not look away as he lifts his
head, daring blindness as he stares at a veiled figure shrouded in starlight in undisguised
adulation. He remains thus for a time, dazzled, even after the mists return to shroud the searing
core, and it is some time before he breathes out a long, slow breath, lowering his head once more.
"Yes, Lady." Hesitantly, he asks, "Lady - You said that it is Your instinct to calm others. And that
I was not ungrateful, but...Would You prefer to soothe my anger? I would not take that from You, if
so, in my lack of comprehension. I only wish to see You happy."

You think to yourself: "I wish to see Her as She is, in all ways, but, She will understand my
meaning, I think. I hope."

Once more, the hushed silence of a veiled figure shrouded in starlight precedes Her answer. "The
path of the Hamadhi comes with it the full understanding of all that is Life," the Goddess says
instead of answering, the star lotus in Her hands once more flickering with dewy beauty. "What it
means to be Created, and how to restore that which is undone. In My pursuit of the art of healing, I
sought mastery of Myself, and of My emotion: to be calm in the face of paralyzing doubt, before
lethal injuries that might bring even the most powerful of the Second Circle to Their knees. And
yet," She continues, in a voice soft and light as a whisper on the wind, "that is the path of the
healer. Not the soldier who might wield their wrath like a blade to cut through their foe. If your
anger fuels you, Avaris, then I shall not seek to stifle it in you."

His turn for silence, now, the texture of the quiet that envelopes him that of
intense, careful deliberation. Though Avaris's face is ever turned down and away from a veiled
figure shrouded in starlight, the infinity of stylised, glowing markings that make up the vigilant
constellation of eyes that fill his wings stare at a veiled figure shrouded in starlight in
rapturous adoration, their stark luminosity softened at the edges. With the cadence of a man picking
his words with all the care of one placing pieces upon a board, he says, "My love for You fuels me,
Lady. My desire to serve You, however I can, ever drives me forward. It is all that I require. If
You would be more content with dampening my anger, then I am fully glad for You to do so."

You think to yourself: Ever his respect for healers grows, the more he learns of them, of Her. Ever
does his conviction in his belief that healing is the hardest, most noble path one can walk grow
firmer. He can scarcely imagine the difficulty of mastering oneself as She has, let alone replicate
it. "Is there no end to the wonder that is the Lady Empyreal? No. I do not think there is."

The expression upon the Goddess's face is a thoughtful one, as Lantra regards you with the
unflinching gaze of Her celadon blue eyes. "Feelings are fleeting, My Avaris," the Empyreal says as
She steps through the starlit mist that surrounded Her but moments prior. "Your anger, your sorrow,
even your comfort -- all of it lasts for only a brief moment in time. My instinct to soothe is only
tha:, instinct. Yet you are not wounded upon My healing mound, Avaris." The Hamadhi's smile is faint
and reassuring, though the motes of light surrounding Her merely flicker, devoid of their usual
soothing influence. "If you ask what I desire, it is this: that you are master of your anger. That
you do not let it control you, and hold power over all your thoughts and actions. Know it.
Understand it. Embrace it when you desire." There is another pause as She maintains your gaze, Her
hand resting upon the clasp of Her cope. "Yet your anger is not all that you are."

Within a spherical pearl white study.
The rippling sound of flowing celestial waters echoes distantly from a healing shrine of Lantra
nearby. This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. A long faceted window curves
horizontally along the surface of this spherical room, through which a distorted view of the outside
world can be seen. Smooth, pearly white leather pads the walls such that no sound is able to enter,
or escape, its boundaries. Recessed slightly into the northern end is an alcove just large enough to
fit a desk and chair, illuminated by a lone paper lantern that hangs discreetly from the ceiling.
Lantra, the Empyreal stands here with a restrained dignity, Her aura radiating a celestial light.
You see a single exit leading southeast.

Her slight and statuesque figure exuding a sense of restrained dignity, She is a radiant immortal
and possessed of a quiet and unassuming stillness. The Goddess's olive-skinned complexion shines
with the dusky radiance of youth, and yet the ancient burden of duty weighs heavily upon Her
shoulders, carried with a silent and practised grace. Lost to contemplation, She appraises Her
surroundings with a distant air; the grey-tinged gaze of Her celadon blue eyes remains as fathomless
and inscrutable as the hazy mists of a waterfall. Despite the seriousness of Her first impressions,
however, a gentle smile graces Her lips with an almost maternal tenderness. Her every movement is
characterised of an unhurried elegance and poise, reflective of an inner peace as She emanates a
soothing white light.

Shimmering tresses of palest starlight spill down Her shoulders in a curtain of white to end at Her
waist, nary a strand out of place. Motes of silver and celadon blue interweave through Her
immaculate coif, their whispers of colour evoking a breathtaking celestial radiance.
She is wearing:
immaculate vestments of purest white starlight that wreathe Her in a celestial glow
a cascading veil of mist and water lilies that shrouds Her and trails at Her feet
elevated sandals of woven willow leaves that leave lambent motes with each step
a gold damask cope clasped with a radiant star lotus that covers Her shoulders in a heavy mantle
a bracelet of woven water and starlight shimmering upon Her wrist.


((l at veil on lantra))
Trailing to the floor in an elegant train, this cascading veil parts to reveal the Goddess's face, framed in a sheer, sparkling curtain of mist. An endless sea of water lilies, their centre each lit with a single radiant star, drift across the veil's surface in a gentle procession of white. This bewitching mist-spun veil floats with the Goddess's every step as if glissading through water, held in place by two breathtaking star lotuses that frame Her face with petals in eternal bloom.

You think to yourself: A stab of memory, there and gone as swift as a flashing blade; Wounded, upon
Her healing mound, and then whole once more, only to face the wrath of a Goddess once more. A
flickering terror as he pleads for peace, in this place, of all places, and then the beginnings of a
rage greater than any he has ever felt as She turns Her gaze upon the mound, upon his Lady's most
sacred place, /with bared blades/. The memory is crushed flat, suppressed - He is not there, and the
Lady is before him. Focus, clear and sharp, as he sweeps the remnants of that remembered anger
aside, irritated at himself. She has told him what She desires, and so he shall make it manifest.
Whatever it takes.

As Lantra is revealed in truth, Avaris's head snaps up, unbidden, all four of his
antennae blurring upright into shivering banners of surprise, of unrestrained delight. The sight of
Lantra, once more gifted to him, draws deep upon the well of light that hides within his seven,
natural eyes, so that they are flooded with glittering motes of luminescence as he stares,
fascinated. There is a moment in which he nearly visibly wills himself to focus on Lantra's words,
lest he be lost in his adulation, though the effort is a faintly reluctant one. Taking a deep,
steadying breath, he dips his head in acknowledgement of Lantra's Wisdom, lifting his hands from his
breast so that he can rap them gently atop his heart once more, the motion reverent. "As You desire,
Lady, so it shall be."

You think to yourself: His anger is not all that he is. He can feel the truth in that, though
sometimes he feels that he is composed solely of rage - But it is not his entirety. What is a
nascent sword, after all, but roiling, molten metal? If She wished for him to be master of it, then
he would become so. He would hammer it into shape with his will, and learn to sheathe it.

The mist-spun veil drifting behind Her in the caress of the cool wind, Lantra watches you for a
time, lost to contemplation. Unveiled as Her intents are, there is a peculiar openness to the
Goddess's study of your answers, though even then there is a subtlety to each response, a pause of
consideration, before She speaks. "To dwell in the past for too long is to dwell on those finite
moments, Avaris, and in doing so, given them the power to outlast their usefulness. Be wary of
giving the past the power to become the present, lest it be what you desire." The chastisement, if
it is that, lacks any anger or disappointment in its utterance: these are the patient words of one
who has taught many, watched them fail, and waited for them to succeed.

Whether it is having a purpose laid out before him, or the openness with which
Lantra studies him, Avaris does not react to the admonishment with the penitent manner he has been
so swift to embrace in past encounters. Rather, he watches Lantra in turn, and all of the eyes that
he possesses - natural and otherwise - are bent upon absorbing Lantra's presence, though there is an
air of intent study in his regard, in addition to the awe-struck adoration, as if he is seeking to
learn as deeply of Lantra as he can in the precious time alloted to him. Thoughtfully, he
contemplates the words given to him, the ridged, layered alabaster of his jaw tilting up to catch
the light. "I will, Lady. Thank You for Your Wisdom, as ever." He pauses, and then asks, as if
coming to a decision abruptly, "When would You like me to sing for You, Lady?"

You think to yourself: She has given him so very many gifts on this visit alone. The very least he
can do is offer what he can, in turn. The very least.

A glimmer of curiosity sparkles in Her celadon eyes at your words. So brief is its passing that you
are certain it would have been lost behind the ever-present curtain of mist that had wreathed Lantra
mere moments prior. "You have My attention now, if you wish it."

You think to yourself: A swelling within his heart at that fleeting glimpse, the vast tide of his
love for Her burgeoning to greater heights, though it seems an impossible thing. Would there ever be
a limit to how much She could make him adore Her? He did not think so.

Lost, for a moment, in savouring the undisguised light of Lantra's eyes, all the
more precious for its brevity, Avaris simply gazes upon Lantra with unveiled, hopeless adoration.
Then Lantra's words sink in, and he lifts a hand from its brethren to fidget with the dense fluff of
his mane. "Ah," he hedges, his tone rueful, "It will not be a short performance, I am afraid, Lady."
Then, with the manner of one drawing forth the admission with great reluctance, "And it is not
/quite/ finished. It will be ready within the month, however."

The Goddess's nod is brief, understanding radiating from Lantra as She folds Her hands before
Herself. "When you are ready to fulfill your vow of Devotion unto Me, pray for My attentions. Should
I be present, the very touch of the ampoule you bear will be enough to attract My notice."

You have emoted: The point of his chin dips down in a nod as Avaris breathes a sigh of relief that
is so faint it is questionable whether the exhalation occurred at all. "I shall do so, Lady. You are
very patient with me, and though I know such time is likely a mere blink of an eye to You, I
appreciate it all the same. " Tilting his head at Lantra curiously, he asks, "Is there anything that
I can do for You, Lady?" He holds up a forestalling hand, long palm gleaming. "Other than my tasks,
and doing as I usually do, and so on. Please. I wish to please You, however I can."

The earnest nature of the question is not lost upon Lantra as a faint smile graces Her lips. "You
are ever striving to attain My approval. Am I so withholding of it for you and the rest of Mine?"

The bloody streaks of Avaris's antennae curl down in a very slight frown as he
considers his answer for a time, though the expression, such as it is, is entirely at odds with the
reaction he has to Lantra's slight smile. All seven of the eyes embedded within the visor of his
face are so completely awash with currents of scintillating motes of light that their inherent azure
blue is barely detectable, so great is his delight. "Ah. While I do wish very much for Your
approval, Lady, my true desire is to see to it so that You are happy." Fingers tapping against his
armoured chest in thought, he continues, "I think it is not that You withhold it, Lady, but
that...Hm." He frees his hands, gesturing carefully at Lantra, and the mist that trails behind Her.
"You are...Difficult to read. Not quite aloof, but very reserved. You are the most beautiful star in
the heavens, and though You are so very far above us, we long to reach up to join You." He pauses,
frowning more deeply. "I am not saying this right."

For all the composure emanating from Lantra there is, too, a quiet confidence that exudes from Her.
The Goddess's statuesque poise, however, is belied for a moment by the flicker of surprise that
flickers across Her features -- self-conscious, almost, in its muted expression. All this passes in
a single moment, and the Goddess says merely, "Your concern for My welfare is kind. Nonetheless, I
do not yearn to exist within a constant state of happiness. I would not wish such a burden upon you,
for that is a pressure no single mortal should bear."

"You need not seek to soothe My sorrows," Lantra says, a gentle look in Her eyes, "just as I need
not soothe your anger. All this is finite, and yet part of who We are."

You have emoted: Despite the complete lack of capability to do so, there is the distinct impression
of Avaris's eyes thinning as he sharpens his attention upon Lantra further - If such a thing is
possible. The impression is, perhaps, aided by the fact that the lines of light that comprise the
eye markings of his wings do, in fact, narrow ever so slightly. He straightens, placing his hands
upon his knee as he looks at Lantra, a minute, determined tilt to his chin - Not defiant, precisely,
or stubborn, but determined all the same. "I would not wish for You to be in constant happiness,
either, Lady, for I would worry for Your stability." The burnished plates of his torso expand as he
draws in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and setting them. "I understand, Lady. Yet I would
bear the burden gladly, and not give a whisper of complaint. I will not press the matter, but, know
that I am set upon it. If I cannot protect You, physically or otherwise, then allow me this one
thing. When You feel that You can trust me to bear the burden. Please."

You think to yourself: "She will say no, in that maddeningly wise way that I cannot but adore, and
make it sound entirely reasonable, as if there were no other, sensible path to take."

The impassioned manner of your words and actions stands in stark contrast to Lantra's restraint, the
rays of starlight in Her hair gleaming with a quiet luminescence. "I have asked you to be master of
yourself," the Goddess says at length, the words careful in their phrasing and in their intention.
"I do not hold you to this vow, for I do not wish for your purpose to be solely for My wellbeing,
nor for My personal satisfaction. Far better to have your Devotions spread wider, beyond Me, to all
that I represent and embody." The city of New Celest gleams behind Her in answer as She lets the
words settle between you. "Yet I will not prevent you from seeking this, if this is what your mind
is set upon. For now, I shall leave the question unanswered."

The flickering, darting motion of Avaris's antennae is sporadic as it stops and
starts in fits of frenetic activity, only to grow still, and the move once more as he processes
Lantra's words at length. Watching Lantra with a careful, tentative air, the manner in which he
speaks is reminiscent of a one testing his weight upon a surface that he is entirely unsure will
bear his weight. "I...See. I will be equal to it, Lady, and the other that is unanswered, from when
we first spoke." He leans forward, then, only a fraction, peering at Lantra intently. His words are
faintly exasperated, though there is a warm undercurrent of nascent laughter, and no small amount of
affection in them. "Lady, I think that You are very deft with evading me with Your words. You did
not answer if I could do aught for You. Again."

"Many seek to understand the Elders of the Third Circle," Lantra says mildly, Her voice soft and
clear. "There is a reason so few succeed." It is difficult to tell if the statement is made lightly,
or is intended with any sort of gravitas, so even is its intonation.

There is a considerable span of time in which Avaris strives to discern the weight
and intent of Lantra's words, and this time there is a touch of stubbornness in his mien, though it
is still not one of defiance - Or if it is, then it is a very benign sort, tempered by reverence,
and respect. "I will not be dissuaded, Lady, so long as You tolerate my striving to understand You."
He pauses, and then adds, a shade wryly, "I am, after all, a shard of one of the Third Circle.
Perhaps that gives me some advantage."

You think to yourself: "All these eyes have to be useful for something, at least. She may have had a
thousand, but I have...A considerable amount as well."

Lantra silently concedes the point with an upturned hand. "Perhaps," She replies, and this time, Her
voice betrays Her faint sense of bemusement. The mists that had wreathed the Goddess upon your
meeting begin to encroach once more upon Her, shrouding Her in a sparkling mantle which She begins
to fade within, as if vanishing into the aether itself.

Reaching for the veil that frames Her face, allowing it to shroud Her once more from view, Lantra,
the Empyreal says, "I look forward to witnessing your Devotion, My Avaris."

Avaris lowers his head to Lantra once more, as he resumes the reverent posture of
when the meeting began. "Yes, my Lady. Thank You for Your time, and Your company."

Lantra, the Empyreal says, "May you walk in the Light."

A quiet breeze sweeps through the vicinity as Lantra, the Empyreal dissolves in a luminous swirl of
white lotus petals, leaving only twinkling motes of starlight in Her wake.

You think to yourself: "And You, always."

You have emoted: Avaris kneels still for a time after he is left with only his own illumination to
brighten the room, though the soft, golden glow of his feathers seems a lonely and dim luminance,
compared to that which filled the chamber before. Abruptly, he stirs, rising to his feet with
stately grace, turning to the papers that await him in a neat pile.
12300h, 5800m, 6300e, 10p Bex-
You think to yourself: "I have a song to finish."