A Song and Plea for the Empyreal

<-- I logged in after a bout of listnessness, and it turned out to be perfect timing. Another log at bottom of page!!

You think to yourself: Ahhh - should make some foods...

Today is the 25th of Tzarin, 583 years after the Coming of Estarra. The phase of the moon is the Waning Crescent.
There are 5 days until the New Moon

You think to yourself: Wonder if is still super hot out...

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

You have emoted: Gurashi blinks slowly, lifting their head, tail wagging twice.

(Celest): You say, "Many greetings, New Celest - and goodly evening, Lady Empyreal!"

(Celest): Lantra says, "Light's blessings upon you, New Celest."

(Celest): Aeldra (from the Prime Material Plane) says, "Tidings and Lights blessings, my Lady."

You have emoted: Gurashi swallows hard, then reaches up, hurriedly wiping the sleep from their eyes.

You think to yourself: I... should... I should cook.

Caressing your ear, the voice of Aeldra whispers, "Gurashi?"

Your melodic voice sings into Lady Aeldra Ladyn, of Cerulean Waters's mind, "Miss Aeldra...!"

You gulp nervously.

Caressing your ear, the voice of Aeldra whispers, "We're being summoned before Her. Would you meet me at the pool of stars?"

Your melodic voice sings into Lady Aeldra Ladyn, of Cerulean Waters's mind, "Oh, my! Yes! of course."

<--NYOOM
The Pool of Stars.
This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. Meeting in the radiant heart of New Celest, the broad city streets come together in a large, open plaza of marbled stone. Rising in the centre of the plaza is a structure of noble and luminescent pillars which suspend a round, ring-shaped platform twenty feet above the light-studded surface of the pool below. The atmosphere within the structure and around the pool bristles with a warm, electrical energy, giving a slightly disorienting sense of dizziness and euphoria. A gradually ascending stairway winds its way about the inside of the pillars, leading towards the upper level of the structure and offering a bird's eye view of the pool. An enormously wide circular pool, as dark as the night sky, glitters softly between the columns. A statue of Zenobia the Queen of Queens stands here, memorializing her noble spirit. There are 9 archons of Eternal Light here. An imposing sword of radiant white metal has been driven deep into the ground in a silent statement of intent. There are 8 cavaliers of the Light here. There are 8 Kusalas of the Tahtetso here. A mosaic tiled chest stands here, ready to share donations given. Glowing gently with a soft blue light, a delicate dreamcatcher has been permanently hung here. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. His form suffused with soft light, the Keeper of the Pool of Stars stands here attentively. A slender leothin sits here motionless, brightening its surroundings with its natural golden bio-luminescence.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, northwest, and up (open door).

You fidget impatiently.

Arriving amid salubrious ivory light, an exalted dragon majestically strides in.
Faragan arrives, following Lady Aeldra Ladyn, of Cerulean Waters.
White water lilies glide in from the up upon a flowing stream, their gentle procession heralding the entrance of Aeldra in a burst of water and light.
With an audible "baa", Yvai, the battle sheep trots from the up.

Aeldra beckons you to her.

You have emoted: Gurashi hurriedly spins around to face Aeldra and Faragan, waving timidly. "Ah! Hi!"

You blush furiously.

Aeldra flashes you a joyous smile.

Aeldra closes her eyes and bows her head, chanting softly. White light blossoms around her in answer to her words, drawing the faint outline of a sparkling star lotus in her palm.

A sense of grace and power radiates from Aeldra as her eyes flutter open, calm as she beckons to the aether in the name of the Lady of Everlasting Remedy. In answer, the star lotus in her palm unfurls to fill her world with bracing, beautiful white light, enveloping her completely as she dissolves in a flurry of immaculate petals.

You think to yourself: * heart racing pounding blood in their ears - frantic * Oh boy oh boy, do your best oh -boy- oh gosh.

You follow Lady Aeldra Ladyn, of Cerulean Waters southeast to the Chamber of the Rhapsodic Choir.
The Chamber of the Rhapsodic Choir.
This domed antechamber resembles a cathedral's heavenly interior with its breathtakingly high ceiling and immense, tall windows. The starlit world of mist beyond their shimmering panes is revealed from their unadorned glass, while the painted dome above depicts the angelic vista of Celestia with cherubs, angels and seraphs, as well as each of the Supernals holding court among the clouds. Ornate pews of stark white wood line up before a raised round dais, where a sculpture of the Goddess Rhapsody stands at the centre of a tiled mosaic of doves and starlight. Daisies, fresh and in eternal bloom, rest upon the statue's neck, while their sweet fragrance wafts throughout the cathedral. Emanating as if from nowhere at all, a beautiful feminine voice laces throughout the chamber, resounding in faint echoes of memory's refrain. Like a shimmering veil, a baldachin woven of water and light draws a starlit canopy over the Immaculate Throne as it loftily rises here in a magnificent display of alabaster stone. An antiqued, gilt-framed looking glass hangs here upon thin air, its surface brightly reflecting its surroundings. A golden retriever is here, panting quietly. As still as a magnificent statue, an exalted dragon peers out with serene gold eyes. A slender leothin sits here motionless, brightening its surroundings with its natural golden bio-luminescence. Yvai, the battle sheep dwells here, antler-bearing head raised proudly. Starlight shrouds a wanderer in the mist here within a twinkling mantle of sidereal radiance. Head bowed, an anointed urn-bearer of water and light holds aloft the blessed vessel here with a reverent, stoic grace. She are surrounded by a deflection bubble.
You see a single exit leading northwest.

Pinpricks of celestial light coalesce into the faint outline of a star lotus, which blossoms open to reveal the regal figure of Lantra, the Empyreal.

Aeldra curtseys gracefully before Lantra.

Aeldra smiles softly at Lantra.

Faragan kneels before Lantra, swearing his allegiance to Her.

You have emoted: Gurashi follows along in silent, gripping a vibrant mandolin of songbirds and stars tightly between their hands and holding it to their chest. As Lantra appears, they stop abruptly, then bow at the waist with so much force it looks like they might topple over.

LOOK LANTRA
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. A steel-hued scar traces along Her cheek, gifted by Terentia, the Even Bladed, for Her mettle in the field of battle.
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 with beauty.

LOOK FARAGAN
He is a fierce dracnari immaculate demigod changeling. He stands approximately six feet in height. His heritage of the  Dracnari bloodline is very prominent, his overall body shape resembling that of  a notable reptilian, his elongated snout extending out by about a half a foot  between his eyes. These eyes, often flickering around to look back upon any whom  may be observing him, are a unique lavender hue, snake-like vertical slits   rushing through the centre of the pupils. His entire body is covered by sleek,  platinum-sheened scales which conceal his toned muscles beneath, a body build   which displays an active lifestyle. Upon his left side, the metallic platinum  scales shift hues into a deep bronze as the scales spiral down from his shoulder and twist about his arm in a depiction of a stream of  flames. As the bronze  scales reach his hand, the design bursts outwards into a chaotic display of a  large sunburst, the edges outlined in petite, jagged scales. Upon the tips of  his two large hands, as well as   upon his toes, slightly-curved claws appear to  be of an ivory hue, kept polished like marble and always sharpened, requiring  him to handle objects with care. Behind him, a large and heavy tail, covered  with miniscule but numerous scales which allow for dexterity despite its size,  can sometimes be seen sweeping the ground while other times is held aloft,  swishing slightly back and forth, depending upon his current mood. A steel-hued scar traces along his cheek, gifted by Terentia, the Even Bladed, for his mettle in the field of battle.
Long, elegant horns sprout from his brow, curling back upon themselves in ornate coils encrusted with lush, cushion-cut emeralds set in shallow gold depressions. Malefic tips extend dangerously behind his head, each emerald growing smaller and smaller until naught but pulverised gemstones grace their needle-sharp pinnacles.

LOOK AELDRA
She is a nimble faeling empyreal demigoddess. She's framed by a pair of delicate, ethereal butterfly wings of dark sapphire blue. She's moderately petite even for her race, with a slender figure of upright bearing. Her head is crowned by a cascade of auburn coloured ringlets, the hair falling freely down her back and framing a face of visibly elven heritage, with high cheekbones and and slightly pointed, small ears. Her bright, emerald eyes rest like dark pools inset freckled with spots of sapphire blue, watching her surroundings with curiosity and contrasting with her smooth ivory skin. A pair of small, twisted antlers protrude from her forehead, just above a tattoo of a stylized, sapphire blue chalice upon her forehead. Woven into her hair are several beautiful violets, their sweet and subtle fragrance surrounding Aeldra. A faint, almost ethereal mist surround her at all time, following her as she moves. A steel-hued scar traces along her cheek, gifted by Terentia, the Even Bladed, for her mettle in the field of battle.
Her hair is worn in long, neat ringlets, a lush, beautiful auburn in hue. Tightly-wound curls fall artfully down her back, while a slender, single ring uncurls at her forehead, glossy and bespeaking both style and grace.

LOOK ME
Standing at a scant four foot ten inches, they are an alluring sileni starlit demigod changeling. The slender curves of this creature's form, from their slight shoulders to their dainty, six-fingered hands, lend them a youthful, wholesome appearance. Their right hand has been scarred upon the palm, as if with a sharp object, and their most prominent three knuckles of the same hand are marred. A heart-shaped face houses a sheepish smile and a pair of large, expressive, slate-blue eyes, their brilliant white pupils resembling stars framed with dusky auburn lashes. Their long cheeks and thin, upturned nose both bear a permanent shade of blush, accentuated by the greatest cluster of freckles. A moderately sized crescent-shaped scar mars their right cheek, brightly visible against the deep hue of their skin. Their smooth skin is tawny in color, covered in a smattering of auburn freckles. A hint of discolored flesh can be seen at the center of their sternum, mostly obscured by their clothing. An unruly mane of bright, apricot colored hair is clustered in wavy clumps atop their head, parted on either side of their head by a pair of curling, deep sable ram's horns, the left horn slightly shorter and stumpier than the right. A shock of bone-white hair stands out along their left temple, the tuft tucked delicately around their horn. A pair of velvety soft black ram's ears hang down from below their horns, twitching every so often in response to foreign sound. Beginning along their midriff is a thin coat of apricot-colored wool, a hint of pure white spots seen poking out from the top of their pants. Their backwards-tilted legs are slender and fawn-like, covered in downy tufts of orange fur and coming to end with triangular, sable black hooves. A short orange and white tail can be seen occasionally wagging behind them. A shifting pearlescence graces their skin as they walk with the truefavour of Carakhan, Sculptor of Waves. A steel-hued scar traces along their cheek, gifted by Terentia, the Even Bladed, for their mettle in the field of battle.

You think to yourself: Oh...!

Looking pleased at those gathered, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "I am fortunate indeed that the Fates brought all three of you together for this occasion."

You blush furiously.

Lantra takes a seat upon the Immaculate Throne, settling comfortably beneath the woven baldachin of water and light. The Goddess coolly surveys all gathered before Her with a regal lift of Her head, exuding a calm and stern dignity from Her lofty perch.

Aeldra nods quietly, "I was wondering if this would be the moment You would choose, my Lady."

The chanting of feminine voices echoes throughout the Temple of Lantra, distant and beautiful.

Gesturing to Her left and Her right, Lantra, the Empyreal says to you, "Beside Me stand My right and left hand of the Order - My Immaculate Faragan and My Immaculate Aeldra. Their judgment is as imperative as Mine in this matter."

You have emoted: Gurashi rises slowly from their bow, hands trembling as they move to hold a vibrant mandolin of songbirds and stars more comfortably, so that they might play. "Am sorry it took so long," They murmur apologetically, tail wagging behind them. "...words are hard sometimes. For me, at least."

You have emoted: Looking at Faragan, then Aeldra, Gurashi nods slowly, biting their lower lip. "Thank you for coming to listen..."

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says, "Of corse."

Aeldra nods quietly at you, "Of course."

With a faint twitch of a smile, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "I am not a Goddess known for haste. You will find that the Hamadhi have mastered the art of patience."

Reclining back upon Her throne, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "You said you wished to sing, little one. I must confess, the choice surprised Me."

You have emoted: Gurashi looks down at their instrument nervously, brow furrowed. "Is that O-K?"

You look at Lantra, expression filled with concern as you frown.

You sense a quiet, unseen presence watching you here, at once both calming and disquieting.

Gently shaking Her head, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "On the contrary, there are few expressions more sincere than those given in song and melody. It is difficult to mask emotions when shared to music."

Aeldra tilts her head curiously, "A song?" she wonders quietly. "This will certainly be interesting." she nods as she flutters in the air watching you with curiosity.

Quieter, you say, "...well, I wanted to try to tell a -story- and, answer the questions like was a paper tests, but..." They quirk their mouth to the side, tail wagging twice. "...mm, songs are memories and stories already. And... so, would, maybe be better."

You blush furiously.

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says, "I look forward to hearing an case to be made through song."

You twiddle your thumbs.

You think to yourself: * hesitation - have been practicing, working so long so -hard- will it be -enough- for Them - would it be enough to make sense to someone who doesn't know ...? *.

Aeldra sparkle, adding "Not to mention that it likely is infinitely more pleasing then the answer to a paper test. Unless you adhere to the Hallifaxians, that is."

You have emoted: Gurashi looks between Aeldra and Faragan thoughtfully, then lets out a slow exhale, gazing down again at their instrument. "Mm, no paper tests," They murmur, steadying themselves.

Calmly, Lantra gestures to the raised round dais, saying only, "At your leisure, child. Unless you wish to take a moment to consider your words."

You think to yourself: * excited, and -scared-, and ... a sigh - can only do best and doing bestly is best *.

You think to yourself: O-K.

You have emoted: Gurashi closes their eyes, each of their six-fingered hands delicately resting atop their instrument. A stillness pervades the room, as if the air in the chamber itself were holding its breath. The faintest pulse of psionic energy ripples out from the sileni's heart, makes the air waver like a mirage.

You think to yourself: * insistent, whispered, like a prayer gentle buzzing over and over * must do my best - must.

You have emoted: Their gaze locked on their instrument, Gurashi begins to pluck at the strings, letting the bright notes from their mandolin begin to fill the room. The melody is all at once both whimsical and melancholic, sweeping quickly between hopeful major chords and dreamy minor ones.

Their eyes closed, you sing, "Oh! She is gone - She does not even know. Where did go~o?"

As soon as the notes leave the sileni's mouth, the mirage-like ripples of psionic energy radiating from them begin to take on colors of their own. Pastel primaries begin to mold into recognizable shapes - Divine shapes, three of them, albeit watercolor in opacity and texture, as if a child were drawing them from memory...

Aeldra watches you intently, listening.

Furrowing their brow as they focus on their strings, you sing, "When day has begun, and night is still young, is hard," They breathe, the shapes becoming clearer with each word, "is so hard to face it alone."

Now it is clear who the shapes are intended to be - The Architect, cloaked in deep shades of blue, the Thousandfold awash in a fiery red, and the third, smaller than the Other Two, bathed in a warm golden light and carrying a halo of many colors that draw the eye to Her instantly - the One of a Thousand Hues.

Lantra's expression shifts ever so slightly as the familiar Divine manifest before Her, though She says nothing, watching in silence.

Finally looking up and gazing at the figures overhead, you sing, "Oh, why cannot hold Her near?"

You sense a quiet, unseen presence watching you here, at once both calming and disquieting.

The golden visage of the Thousand-Hued twirls about Her counterparts delightfully, leaving trails of gold starlight in Her wake. They both watch Her with nothing short of complete and utter adoration on each of Their otherwise plainly painted faces.

A sudden crack splits the air between the three, and suddenly the Thousand-Hued's attention is drawn elsewhere. She moves as if it were a dance, towards a point unseen, towards a darkness on the horizon, and each step leaves more and more of Her behind, colorful specks of gold beginning to fade into nothing, until She too is eventually swallowed up in darkness...

Aeldra bops up and down in the air next to the Immaculate Throne as she continues to watch the scenes unfolding together with your song.

You have emoted: Gurashi continues to play as the tone shifts slightly, leaning into the melancholy. They sigh between verses, catching their breath as the figures begin to move, their colorful reflections caught in the sileni's gaze. "Always thought She'd be there, without Her life cannot go on..."

Both the Architect and Thousandfold reach out, the latter breaking into action, pursuing after the One of a Thousand Hues, though Their movements are labored, as if They were wading through molasses. They reach. They claw. But They are unable to catch up, unable close the distance...

...but still - They try...

Voice warbling slightly before they gather their resolve, you sing, "Paint all Her colors, tread in Her steps - when am waking, when am dreaming, always thinking of Her..."

You think to yourself: * a sudden swell of emotion at watching Mysrai charging into the darkness, after Her, so desperate to -find- Her, to be -together- again - to love somebody, anybody, that -much- ... *.

With a great cry, the Thousandfold's painted form shifts, then explodes outward, and suddenly the Architect is gone. Only the faintest trace of golden footsteps remain painted in the air, and the red, roiling mass that is the Thousandfold begins to follow it, into the dark, into the Unknown.

Faragan stands at attention by the throne watcing and listening attentivly while to strokes the golden and ivory dragons neck beside him.

Resting Her hand upon Her cheek, Lantra watches your performance intently, Her attention unwavering.

You have emoted: "Hoping something goodly could come next." Gurashi sings this as the melody becomes a waltz. They sway, then step back, hooved feet scraping the ground as the beautifully painted crimson figure may move on, follow the golden trail left by Their Sister. Portals begin to appear in the air, each one more impossible than the next as the Thousandfold charges onward, gaining speed, searching through more and more impossibilities, different paradigms. The traces of gold become more scattered the more They seek, kicked up like silt along a river bed.

...a sense of frustration settles in as They search, one reality after another, fighting Their way, tearing Themselves to bits as They look - not here... not here either... where... -where-...

You have emoted: Gurashi's waltz begins to darken as the Thousandfold searches and searches, Their desperation palpable as the sileni sings. "Where have You gone?" They croon, the echoes of the question lingering after.

Amidst the chaos and lightning-fast flashes showing the realities the Thousandfold tore through, the Divine and vision suddenly stop together, causing the image to warp dizzyingly. Bright and beacon-like in the dark, She is so abruptly there, the only still thing in the still-spinning world: The Thousand-Hued. Whole and Alive. But as the shock of it all fades, you realize She is not alone. She stands flanked on either side by the familiar shapes of the Architect and Thousandfold in blue and red. ANOTHER Thousandfold.

...could it be?

Craning back their neck to watch the Goddess emerge, you sing, "Far beyond the Veils?"

...disbelief and exhiliration - it IS Her. She is right -there-. So close They could touch Her. But the first Thousandfold, now slightly tattered and grayed reaches out, speaking in a language the sileni cannot replicate, but the intention is there - pleading.

Rhapsodic hymns emanate from within the tower's depths, fervent with devotion.

You have emoted: Gurashi stares intently at the figures, their eyes becoming shiny with tears as their voice carries on. "Is sinking in, settled deep within." The waltz is no more, the melody quick but deep and morose, growing in intensity as the figures move.

...Though the sileni's God continues to plea, it is clear the journey has begun to wear on Them, greater and greater breaks forming between curses and cries, all falling on deaf ears. the Thousand-Hued turns away, to the Architect. The Other Thousandfold glimmers and Their brilliance outshines the First's.

The shock sucks the very air from the room - it h u r t s.

You have emoted: Gurashi sets their jaw, their eyes shining with tears before they shut them tight, continuing to play. Their fingers dance along the string, as if possessed, lulled along into this fast-paced strum accompanying the painterly illusion.

It is too much. The vision warps again, as in Their grief the First Thousandfold hurls Themselves away - away from where They came, into the Nothing. Into the Impossible. In the chaos the Soulless find Them, and They fight, further shredding Their already tattered form. Dancing wildly, They fight as They fall like a flaming star careening across the sky as the Veils roars one and another past Them, through Them, around Them.

You have emoted: Gurashi at last lets out a breath they hadn't realize they were holding as the intensity finally begins to lessen, the repeatedly and singularly plucked lowest string now all they offer. Sweat beads on their brow, but they do not dare stop, voice cracking as they offer their next verse, wistful. "Nilbent - Chaos sent."

How could She not see? How hard They tried? What did the Other have that They did not? No - it is not that. That was not Their world, and She would never accept Them. And this. That. To have everything They wanted, dreamed of, all within reach, close enough to touch - unreciprocated fully. The fire around the heart of the Thousandfold in the vision burns brighter, brighter still--

You think to yourself: * a childlike voice echoing in the back of their own head * ...how muchly would have given just to -see-...

Almost a whisper as the melody continues on wistfully, you sing, "Stuck digesting all that time They spent."

--from the darkness comes another shape, and there is nothing friendly about it. The great hulking shape of a Black Dragon. Already so weary there is little left for Them to lose. They are weak. Tired. Spent. In the dark, there is a sparkle of gold like a star, and so in desperation They hurl themselves again towards it, until at last They crash against the ground of the Chamber as if They were really there. But They are small. As small as the sileni that sings about Them.

You have emoted: Gurashi slowly approaches the illusory figure, tears now sliding down their cheeks. The minute jackal-God is no more than a heap now in the vision, wounded and trembling, surrounded by sporadic clouds of black sand. They writhe, try to rise, but are too weak. The sileni crouches beside the illusion, letting their hand fall from the instrument so they may reach out, as if to touch the Divine, to comfort Them. "Rushing through rage, trapped in a cage, made of Their own loss and longing..."

More shapes begin to join the vision - people. But they take no note of the Divine, nor do they offer help. And so They stay. Life cannot possibly be worth it. This will be where They die. They can rejoin Their Mother. Maybe She will be waiting for Them. That is what They want.

You think to yourself: * an ache that churns in their sternum, encouraging, morose - do not give up, please do not give up *.

You have emoted: Gurashi's hand remains hovered over the illusion, as if to comfort Them. Tears continue to slide down their face as the faceless background people fade into nothing. Everything fades to nothing. "Hold on," They whisper to the devastated Divine. "Hang in there."

Voice cracking the slightest amount, you sing, "Will not be long 'til they are there."

And then, a soft golden light begins to filter in from behind the huddled figure. A shape timidly emerges from the faceless meandering crowd, approaches the sileni and illusory jackal-God - a tae'dae, with fur to match the obsidian of the Night sky, and an almost identical golden hue to that which They had been chasing for so long.

You have emoted: Gurashi slides back, letting the vision belong to the figures within it, separating themselves with visible effort and hesitation. More tears spill down their cheeks as they hold their mandolin tight, swallow, then begin again to play, the same note but an octave higher - hopeful. "Will keep Them warm, will dry Their tears..."

The Thousandfold lashes out. They have made Their decision. Help has come too late, They have already decided. But the golden tae'dae ignores the sand that batters their shape - stoops down, and SCOOPS up the Divine as if They were a child. Though They continue to protest, the tae'dae is insistent, wandering off.

Scrambling to their feet and moving as if to chase after the vision, you sing, "Will heal Their wounds and calm Their fears."

...snippets of granted memory now - the tae'dae tending to the jackal-God, bringing Them back from the brink. The two speak to one another in hushed voices, conversation just barely undiscernible, the tae'dae's voice bright and curious and naive. They glow brightly unawares beside the smoldering crimson God, saffron hues rippling off of them like steam.

You have emoted: Gurashi shrugs their shoulder to wipe their teary cheek, sniffling and encircling the illusory duo as the 'days' pass, given the Thousandfold's improving condition. "In this life that's been wrote," After a time, it becomes clear that the tae'dae is unhappy. Afraid even. The Shofet watches keenly, eventually reaching out to touch the tae'dae's paw. "Never bore a more tragic a piece of prose."

Crooning, you sing, "Why oh why, sweet little Liar, afraid to fly."

Light radiates from Faragan's heart, warming with shades of gold, wheat, and saffron.

Grayscale, childlike impressions of a monstrous being rise behind the tae'dae as they speak - an Emperor of Flesh, a terrible Leader from Another World. From the tae'dae's world. The tae'dae is His favorite in ways they shouldn't be - and they do not want to be. The scary image fades, leaving the tae'dae looking smaller, and the Shofet more hale. Their crimson burns bright, brighter still. They seem renewed, almost as They had when They first flung Themselves into the Void.

Gazing longingly at the duo, you sing, "Down, down - flee without sound - make a new story to write."

...a color so like Hers. Not the same, no. Uniquely their own. They want HER still, so badly, yes. But... there is comfort in it. Acceptance in both its difference and similarities...

You think to yourself: * churning, distractedly - sometimes, in searching for one thing, we instead find something else - something we didn't know we were needing - their heart flutters birdlike in their chest, dizzy with exertion and emotion *.

You have emoted: Gurashi sways, their voice fainter as they force their way through towards a conclusion. "Growing older makes Wise - not live life with regret." There is a sense of urgency in their voice, as if goading the Shofet on.

The Shofet is whole again, and They stand with Their hands in the tae'dae's. The two stare at one another before the jackal-God leans in to plant an endearing kiss on the tae'dae's forehead, fading from Their current shape into an incorporeal crimson haze. They linger overhead, churning, beckoning the tae'dae to follow Them.

And follow they do.

You have emoted: "Hold on. Take goodly care." Gurashi's voice wavers, cracks as they watch, stepping after the pair longingly, only to stagger and nearly fall. On tottery legs, they watch the tae'dae as they descend through a path of the impossible, guided by the warm scarlet hand of the Thousandfold. Away from the horrible Gray One that caused them so much pain. To a place They know They would be able to keep this new ward safe.

Shoulders sagging as they pluck weakly at their instrument, the visions starting to fade the further away it gets, you sing, "Will not be long til You are there."

The journey across impossible together - guided by a promise forged in love, kept through space and time itself. Veil after veil until all at once and with the same dizzying jolt as when the Shofet found That Other World where She Still Lived. They've made it to Lusternia proper, the familiar pyramids of Gaudiguch towering behind them both, mortal faces boggling at the swirling sand and the new tae'dae. But no matter, no - the relief is palpable, a great sigh held now let loose - they made it. They Both made it.

You have emoted: Gurashi's chin quivers, the psionic energy around them beginning to burn out, like an inferno nearly extinguished. "Hold on, little one," They rasp softly, at last turning their attention to Lantra, starry-eyes half-lidded and tired, "...are still so ..."

"I love You, Shofets!" The tae'dae chimes cheerfully, their spoken voice bright and childlike and unique from Gurashi's. Wrapped up in the tae'dae's embrace, the jackal-God's forehead finds one another. As the two begin to fade into just a golden smoke, it is the Shofet's voice that now resounds through the chamber, a memory, precious and coveted. An answer.

"My dear Asch..."

Echoed again, fainter, older: "My ...dear Ash..."

You have emoted: Gurashi no longer offers song or vision, reaching up to touch their sweaty forehead with the back of their hand apologetically as they quietly catch their breath.

You sense a quiet, unseen presence watching you here, at once both calming and disquieting.

You think to yourself: * thrumming, heart beating, pounding in their ears like it had before but now, -exhausted- - the butt wants to sit on the floor but the leggies are too shaky to do so *.

Aeldra nods quietly to you, offering a small smile to you.

You have emoted: Gurashi wipes at their brow, then folds their arms politely over their mandolin. "I'm--" Their voice cracks horribly, and they clear their throat apologetically, bowing their head. "...am done."

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says, "I'm not sure that tail is woht applauding for but, sertinly impressivly performed."

You blink.

You glance askance at Faragan.

Lady Aeldra Ladyn, of Cerulean Waters says to you, "My uncle means that it may feel wrong to applaud to a tale of sadness and despair, but it was non the less remarkably well performed."

You nod your head slowly in understanding.

You blush furiously.

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says, "Indeed."

Even with the absence of the illusory magic or the psionic strange, afterimages of Aschwar and the Shofet in walks of life still linger in your minds eye. They carry on in training, in dining, in travel through the Shifting City throughout the temple, passing so close to your audience yet never colliding.

You have emoted: Gurashi's gaze loses focus for a moment, listening but momentarily distracted as they brush their hair from their face. "Oh..." More quietly they add, "thank you..."

Giving Faragan and Aeldra a single glance, Lantra then turns to you and places Her hands together in silent applause, Her veil masking much of Her true thoughts from view. "It is a tale I thought I knew," the Goddess says softly, "but there were chapters I see I was not privvy to. Entries that it surprises Me such an engimatic Elder would share with but a single shard."

Bizirik's head begins to droop. It opens its great maw and curls back its lips to allow its forked tongue to unfurl as it yawns before snapping its mouth shut.

You have emoted: Gurashi fidgets with the instrument, slowly lifting their gaze to meet Lantra's. They cant their head slightly, confused.

Leaning back, considering, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "The death of Ashtariel... To begin there, in a time so long ago it is easily forgotten, it evokes memories I rarely seek to recall. Of Mysrai before the war of the Circles. Before the Soulless arrived. A time of Creation, of Dynara, of nothing but unending promise."

You have emoted: Gurashi flinches as the name is mentioned, eyes widening.

Aeldra smiles softly up to Lantra, a hint of concern on her face.

You have emoted: Gurashi frowns, lightly dragging their finger over the lowest of the strings, causing a strange buzzing note to cry out ever-so-softly in the open chamber.

You think to yourself: * an apologetic thrum, sheepish shades of blue and gray *.

You think to yourself: * must be sad for -Her- too *.

Several moments of silence fall like rain as Lantra considers Her words. "I recall the time when Dynara left," the Goddess continues. "So many were adrift, without purpose without the Song of Creation to guide them. Many went mad. The young Elders - such as Ashtariel - were often inconsolable, even before the Hamadhi's power and might." She exhales, and then so softly you almost do not hear it, the Goddess says, "Were it not for Mysrai and Zvoltz, I am not certain She would have survived such a time. You reminded Me there was a time when I knew Mysrai's love for another to be sincere, child."

You have emoted: Gurashi's starry eyes suddenly flood again with tears at the words, though they do their best to blink them away.

Lantra reaches out to tenderly cup your cheek in Her hand.

Gently, Lantra, the Empyreal says to you, "Why do you cry, child? These losses are not your own."

You have emoted: Gurashi sniffles lightly, biting their lower lip. "Does not make it any less sad."

Quietly, you say to Lantra, "...and, They really do love Aschwar lots, and lots - and Aschwar loves Them back." They take a deep breath, "Can just... -see- it."

Lady Aeldra Ladyn, of Cerulean Waters says, "Sometimes sadness can sometimes overcome us even if it is the fate of another that we are looking upon. I can very much relate to that."

You think to yourself: * an aching throb in the center of their chest - so hard sometimes to put some things into words *.

At the Goddess's touch, you feeling a soothing aura of healing fill you with its luminous glow, calming you even as you stand before the Lady Lantra and Her Immaculate upon the dais.

You sniffle softly.

Sniffling, you say, "Mmf."

A sinking cap rests on the merry balloon of hope which has swollen up within your chest. You showed them. Surely they can see. Can't they?

Lantra, the Empyreal says, "I watched many Divine suffer and perish in the Elder Wars, child. It is difficult to separate yourself from such sorrow to act and do what must be done to save another."

You have emoted: Gurashi nods several times at this, reaching up with their hand to wipe at their eyes. "Thinking about it makes me feel so sad that feel sick, so do not want to try and imagines what must feel like for You, Lady Empyreals," They murmur, hand dropping back to their side.

You glance askance.

Wonderingly, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "I... had never imagined that Mysrai had put Themself in such peril, in Their quest to attempt to salvage the memory of the one They loved most. And to think They were willing to sacrifice Themself even in this most futile of endeavors. There is so much of Mysrai I do not understand, yet in this, I confess an understanding. To grieve, to cling to loss, it is perhaps what connects those of Us that Dynara gifted with a soul."

Lantra, the Empyreal says to you, "Child, if your visions speak rightly, then the Elder Mysrai would have perished were it not for this Aschwar. Is that not so?"

You have emoted: Gurashi nods sadly at this, letting loose a slow, trembling breath. "Yeah," They manage to croak out, "...They didn't wanna... -be-, anymore. But Aschwar SAW Them..." They slowly choose their words. "...saw Them, and chose to help Thems."

You have emoted: Gurashi fidgets. "When we are hurt, we lash out. Aschwar -saw- how muchly was hurting."

You have emoted: Gurashi trails off into silence again, reaching up to wipe their eyes again, futilely.

You think to yourself: * a sigh - want to always be that goodly too - as goodly as they so naturally -are- *.

Aeldra smiles softly.

You think to yourself: * a swell of warm pastel colors, saffrons and apricots and pinks - love them, love Them -both- so muchly *.

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

Lady Aeldra Ladyn, of Cerulean Waters smiles and says to you, "Your love for the friend you made in Aschwar speaks through all of your words, Gurashi. Its pleasant so see each friendship of such strength and purity."

You blush furiously.

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says, "Love is something I think we all can agree is a good thing. be it between you Gurashi and Aschwar or between the priest and the thousand love is universal I hope."

You have emoted: Gurashi looks at Aeldra and with a hiccup chimes: "W-we are bestest friends! Me and Aschwar, mean! Love them soooo muchly!"

You flail about helplessly.

You look at Faragan hopefully.

You fidget impatiently.

Her white vestments rippling about Her like a white column as She arises from the Immaculate Throne, Lantra approaches you and lifts Her veil. As She does, tears faintly sparkle in Her grey-blue eyes, previously hidden behind the curtain of mist. "A life for a life, then. For Mysrai's sake. To honour the time when Mysrai knew love for another, and out of a desire to help remind Mysrai that such times are not necessarily no more." Then, as She lowers Her veil once more, "Tell your Thousandfold I shall assist the one called Aschwar, but My request will not come freely. The conditions should be but simple, if Their feelings are as sincere you say."

You have emoted: Gurashi looks slowly from Faragan and Aeldra back up to the Empyreal, their eyes meeting Her's. "Ah... You--" Suddenly, they gasp. "Y-You will? Really?"

Aeldra tilts her head slightly at Lantra's words, as she glances the Elders tears, she lifts a hand to reach out, but stops herself at the last moment.

Faragan smiles softly.

Lantra, the Empyreal says, "It will cost Them, as healing of such magnitude often does. But They have shown a willingness for such sacrifice. I have no doubt Mysrai will comply."

You have emoted: Gurashi nods several times, gripping their instrument so fiercely the wood creaks. "Thank You," They suddenly fish through their bag and produce a kerchief from one of the many pockets, offering it to the Divine before them. "I will tell Them - I will, I will..."

Lantra, the Empyreal has bestowed Her divine truefavour upon you. It will last for 1 month.

You sniffle softly.

You think to yourself: * a growing apologetic thrum - did not -mean- to make Her cry -too- *.

With some surprise, Lantra looks at the kerchief in your hands and slowly shakes Her head, saying only, "I have no doubt you shall. Mysrai has picked a worthy messenger. I see why They could never speak such thoughts to Me - this most unknowable of Divine."

Lantra, the Empyreal says, "My Faragan. My Aeldra. I thank you both for your counsel and your guidance in this heavy matter."

Aeldra nods seriously at Lantra, "Of course and always, my Lady." She smiles at Lantra, but a hint of worry remains on her features.

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says, "You always have but to ask Empyreal one."

You have emoted: Gurashi lowers the kerchief, putting it back and wiping their own eyes again. "They are pretty different," They say at last, trailing off quietly with a tiny laugh to themselves. They too look towards the mortals standing with them, perking up. "A-ah! Uhm, yes! Am so happy you both were here..."

You twiddle your thumbs.

Bizirik, the leothin looks exhausted and opens her mouth in an enormous yawn.

With a gentle, euphonic lilt, you say to Bizirik, the leothin, "And am so happy -you- behaved."

Bizirik, the leothin grins smugly.

Lantra, the Empyreal says to Faragan, "And My Faragan... I appreciate your Wisdom. Your willingness to speak thoughts that others might not dare to speak in the presence of a Divine. For such strength, I wish to honour you."

Faragan blinks.

You tilt your head and listen intently to Faragan.

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says, "I serve as I may lady. Maybe my mouth gts me in trouble."

A watery spray of starlight twinkles dreamily across the alabaster pillars.

Aeldra smiles warmly at Faragan, "You've often and always been a voice of reason, uncle, even if that reason may seem unpleasant to hear to some."

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says, "I dont' need accoladesto serve you it's my oath."

You think to yourself: * vibrating hopefully, nervously, distractedly - cannot wait to tell Them - surely They will be happy - oh, and dearest -Aschwar-... *.

Faragan kneels before Lantra, swearing his allegiance to Her.

Like motes of white starlight, a halo of argent light surrounds the Lady Lantra as She speaks, now circling Faragan, Her chosen Immaculate as a spray of mist arcs around him in a beautiful display of water and light.

Lantra leans close to Faragan and gently lays a kiss upon his forehead.

With a gentle, euphonic lilt, you whisper, "Oh my..."

Aeldra beams broadly at Faragan.

You face lights up as you smile brightly at Faragan.

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says to Lantra, "My honour and pleasure to serve Empyreal one. I shall."

Lantra, the Empyreal says to Faragan, "Now wherever you roam, all those who see you will know that you speak as one of Mine."

Lantra smiles softly.

To Faragan, you whisper, "Congratulations - congratulations."

Faragan thanks you profusely.

You have emoted: Gurashi offers a very gentle soft series of claps, tail wagging behind them.

Lady Aeldra Ladyn, of Cerulean Waters smiles and says to Faragan, "I can only agree with our Lady on what she said uncle. It is always a pleasure to have you at my side as we guide the order in service to Her."

Pale gold in hue, the wreath about your brow shimmers in a steady pattern, like unto a heartbeat in its gentle pulsation, crowning you in a flickering halo before settling still once more.

Folding Her hands in Her sleeves, Lantra, the Empyreal says to you, "Now. You are chosen of another Elder, are you not? Go to Them. Tell Them of this news and bring Them the joy you so desperately wish to."

Faragan smiles softly at Aeldra.

Lantra, the Empyreal says, "In time, They and I shall consult on what must next be done."

You have emoted: Gurashi seems to vibrate where they stand for a moment, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Ah? Ah! I-I will! Thank You, Lady Empyreal! Thank You so muchly!" To Aeldra and Faragan, they exclaim, "And thank you both muchly too! O-K! I..."

Speaking softly in salubrious tones of erudition, The Ivory Dove, Faragan Ladyn, Master Merchant of The Star says to Aeldra, "A pleasure aas always niece. and my joy to serve with you. We have done amaising things and I have no doubt will continue down the path we've started. With te Empyreal to guide us."

Looking around, you say, "Where are we."

You discern:
You are standing in Temple of Lantra.
Your environment conforms to that of urban.
You are in the Realm of the Empyreal.
You are indoors.

You stare blankly into space.

Lantra's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Lady Aeldra Ladyn, of Cerulean Waters says to you, "Within Her innermost temple within Her realm. The easiest way for you may to simply ascend out."

With a gentle, euphonic lilt, you whisper, "-Oh-."

Lantra, the Empyreal says, "I can place you wherever you desire."

Faragan chuckles long and heartily.

You have emoted: Gurashi looks down at their feet, then up at Lantra. "Can You please uhm, send me to the, uh..." They snap their fingers, "Aetherplex? I must go to the Shofets! Please and many thank Yous."

You look at Lantra hopefully.

You think to yourself: Oh boy - place me?

Bowing Her head, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "Very well. It shall be done."

You think to yourself: Like a teleport?

The Aetherplex Chamber.
The spherical chamber is formed from a hollow geode comprised of dozens of precious gemstones. Large jagged formations of rubies, sapphires, diamonds and emeralds line the walls and ceiling. The floor has been cut and polished to a brilliant shine, revealing concentric circles of brilliant colours. Upon close examination of the glassy floor, shimmering reflections briefly glide across its smooth surface of wondrous mansions and abodes. A current of electricity continuously runs throughout this mineral wonder, causing tiny sparks to erratically blossom up and down the crystalline formations. Hidden deep within the environment lies a mystic pathway. Shimmering with aetheric energy, a bright glowing portal floats here in midair. Hackles risen, a fierce timberwolf prowls about here. A screech owl is here, surveying the surroundings. There are 2 great brindle mastiffs here. A giant bat hangs here, wings folded about its body and one beady eye open. Spirit-Touched Aeza is here. She wields a golden whip of the pious in her left hand and an athame dagger in her right hand. You see a sign here instructing you to use the PORTAL command to enter the aetherplex system. There is an aetherways portal here.
You see exits leading north (open door), south, out, and through a bright, glowing portal.
You are transported by the power of the Divine.

You think to yourself: AHHH JUST LIKE A TELEPORT.

You hands fly to your mouth as you give a short gasp of elation.

With a gentle, euphonic lilt, you say, "Neat!"

Aloud, you exclaim, "Thank You!"

<-- Rushes outside to not be a nuisance and talk to Aschwar and ONTO NEXT LOGGY: pastebin.com/t4DZt4ra