It is very Dark

The cold voice of Adrien sends chills down your spine, "Then I shall meet you in the Aetherplex; my home has no doors."

You teleport along the aether strands to the Aetherplex Chamber.
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. A black phoenix perches here, his fiery plumage illuminating the area with black fire. A selcouth sand djinn languidly levitates in mid air, liquid gold pouring from his eyes while incandescent sparks trace chaotic orbits around his floating form. A voidcopper-chapleted hierophant chants quietly here, thick plumes of smoke rising languorously from the strands of resinous incense bundles that sway hypnotically from his wrists. Playing a spirited song on a wooden pan flute, an alluring sileni frolics here. 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.

Adrien nods his head slightly in a polite, cursory greeting.

Kihr gives Tonatiuh a peck on the cheek.

Kihr inclines his head politely to those around him.

You have emoted: Lief dips her antlered head, then lets her gaze roam about expectantly.

Settling, you say to Adrien, "Ah, hello."

Beneath Tonatiuh's luxurious, indigo fur there are bruises ripening upon his throat, the vibrant scatter of static sparks revealing the print of an exquisite, feminine hand.

l tonatiuh
He is a burly tae'dae illuminated demigod changeling and boasts a robust frame that is all but concealed beneath a luxuriously shaggy coat of indigo fur. Opalescent sparks gleam along each long strand with a flame-kissed iridescence, creating a mesmerising shimmer as he moves. Golden powder is rubbed into his face and powerful muzzle, a thick dusting that glows with metallic brilliance, matched in colour by long yet dexterous golden claws that tip his giant paws. His pale eyes shift between honey-hued citrine and vibrant yellow sapphire, observing the world with avid curiosity. A chaos butterfly is resting on his shoulder. Tattooed on his hands is an illustration of obscure indigo imagery upon the palms. Scarlet hieroglyphs dance along his cheekbones and swirl towards his temples, filling the area about his head with the clear indication of Mysrai, the Scarlet Courtesan's truefavour.

The evocative dance of fire is brought to reality in his eye-catching mane, each tendril of hair converging in a conflagrant profusion of red-gold that forms a feverish crown around his head. Yellow and black rule the wild terminus of each and every hair and tiny, ember-shaped rubies trickle from some of these completing the illusion.
He is wearing:
flame-kissed beads of tarnished cognac gold wrapped loosely several times around his neck
a resin-streaked mark of the Paragon of Paradigms branded into his left shoulder
a sacrifical kris pendant pulsing subtly with esoteric power
a kantharos pendant of dreams shimmering with captured visions
mercurial Mysraian prayer beads wrapped around his left wrist
an eerie mask of inky obsidian reflecting your features, distorted and warped
a gruesome trophy belt of a thousand sandojin teeth clattering against each other
a voidcopper stole of metal-spun keys and spiced resin sachets hangs from his shoulders, chiming and
rattling with ominous portent as it releases wafts of intoxicating fragrance
a macabre shawl of eyeballs preserved in bubbled glass eerily following your every move
a bright red poppy.

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says to you, "And likewise, young Unbroken."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "If I may borrow some of your time."

You have emoted: Lief's gaze lingers briefly upon Tonatiuh, concern flickering within their otherwise limpid gray depths.

You nod your head at Adrien.

You begin to follow Adrien.

You follow Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh to deep in the dark.

You follow Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh north to Amalgamate Dark.

You tell Soothsayer Tonatiuh al-Saaoud, Oracle Thousandfold, "I remember you from Nepenthe's wedding. Is all well...?"

-l
Amalgamate Dark.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. It is very Dark, dark despite the many sconces that line this cavernous chamber. Lit by black and violet shadowfire, the light these sconces provide is enough to see in a strained and bleeding palette of greys walls lined with books and ribbon-bound scrolls, the feeble attempt at illumination just barely dim enough to skim embossed titles on their spine. Between the shelves are frames with what must be paintings, seven in total, with the largest of the lot set directly opposite the door, it itself as large as any of the bookshelves. It is very dark, and so the content of these paintings cannot be determined by sight, touching them allows for the impression of brush strokes, dried paint and putty to play out beneath one's fingertips, hinting at the pictures they must depict. But it is very dark, and so all that can be discerned is that they are there, in this cool, dry room, with scattered sconces of hungry fire and a world's wealth of books. A darkly veined bookshelf of entwined serpentine limbs hangs here, casting a long shadow. A dark chair rests low to the ground here, offering a place of contemplation. Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh is here, shrouded. He wields a subtle nekai in each hand. You may use the BOOKSHELF commands here.
You see a single exit leading south.

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "People tend to find it easiest to see in here."

Tonatiuh hisses sibilantly into the corner of your mind, "In time, perhaps." (Rainbow scarf I think maybe?)

You tell Soothsayer Tonatiuh al-Saaoud, Oracle Thousandfold, "Color - I thank you for this blessing of color upon my mind...!"

It is now the 7th of Klangiary, 567 years after the Coming of Estarra.

Tonatiuh hisses sibilantly into the corner of your mind, "Hope you and yours are also well."

You have emoted: Tucking her hands into the billowing sleeves of her serene kimono robes bearing fruitful apple branches, Lief shivers despite herself as she appraises her surroundings. What little shadowfire exists here flickers against her eyes, betraying little of their usual color - if, indeed, there is any color to be glimpsed within them. Eventually, she turns to the source of Adrien's murmuring, and settles her attention with uncanny perception there. "Do you keep your entire manse this dark?" she inquires curiously.

Smiling, though such a thing is hard to tell with such dim lighting, and such dark skin, Adrien emits a soft noise of assent. "Darker, usually." He admits, with some quiet amusement in his tone. "It's... calming. Helps with headaches. And, well..." There is a sound of tapping, fingernail against glass, as he drums his fingertips against a pair of thin spectacles. "I can see fine."

Kindly murmuring, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "I do promise that there is nothing here that will hurt you. I simply... take comfort in giving my eyes a rest, for a short while."

You have emoted: Lief's forearms tuck against her middle in a gesture suspiciously similar to hugging oneself, though she keeps her hands warm within the sleeves of her robes as she listens to Adrien. "It reminds me, vaguely, of a sense of a vision I had glimpsed once," she comments. "Of the Void, and its emptiness and its loneliness." She glances away, her attention tracing the frames of paintings, the shelves and scrolls and books implied here. "But this place is full. A library, yes?" She doesn't wait for an answer as her eyes flit back to Adrien. "Do light and color give you cause for headache?"

You think to yourself: There is color within me...

You think to yourself: This darkness holds nothing for me to fear.

Watching you with twin luminously gold eyes, each as bright - if not brighter - than the dim sconces around the walls, Adrien chuckles again, slowly nodding his assent. "Yes. Not.... in the way that people tend to understand. I find the visual world quite loud, and that it infringes upon other senses. Too much to look at, all at once...." He drifts, with an audible buzz of insectoid wings, to sit upon the back of a dark meditation chair. "So my manse is dark, to let me rest."

-l adrien
Standing at a scant but typical two feet in height, he is a nimble faeling, one that moves with the fluidity and grace born of noble upbringing. Holding himself with the propriety of scholastic aristocracy, his poise is enforced by delicate and handsome features: high cheekbones, a slender face, long thin ears and lithe, nimble limbs. His dark skin is heavily inked with the imagery and dogma of Wyrden glory, laden equally with Divine supplication and dark and twisting flora. His hair, dark as pitch and a shade off from black by name only, has been cut just short enough to come to gentle rest upon his cheeks and nape, and so the soft curls do occasionally obscure his too-bright golden eyes if he isn't careful. Tucked behind a pair of spectacles, they mirror in shade the radiance of his insectoid wings, which take on a dazzling display of translucent bronze and copper and gold and which superficially resemble those of a massive dragonfly. Tattooed on his hands is an illustration of a seven-pointed star.

He is wearing:
a circlet of the Shee-Slaugh house glittering dully at his brow
a pair of thin spectacles half-hidden by hair
a phantasmal shroud of shadows, wrapped about his neck and shoulders like a cloak
a shattered mirror ring on the middle finger of his right hand
a pair of black durable trousers tied securely on his waist.

You have emoted: Lief's dragonfly wings, similar and yet so very different to Adrien's own, slowly cease their own persistent hum as they allow the faeling to alight upon the cool floor. Her eyes continue to track Adrien - clear and gray, save for the reflection of dark and flickering light. "There *is* so much to see," she agrees with a faint smile, there and gone. "Your vision must be uniquely sharp - I think most fail to take notice of every beautiful little detail there is."

-l me
Flowering vines wreathe the antlers which crown this faeling's head, adorning her with perpetual springtime no matter the season. Though she is a nimble faeling blossoming demigoddess, she appears otherwise mundane at first glance. With a boyish, twiggy figure that's taller than average and a sprightly, ruddy pixie haircut, she might be androgynous were it not for her softer features. Large, inquisitive gray eyes sit beneath strong and expressive brows, while a small, upturned nose wears the same proud constellation of freckles which scatters across her healthy, rounded cheeks. Pert and peach-stained lips lift into a natural smile unless some greater emotion temporarily seizes them. The wings which sprout from her back are not a butterfly's, but a dragonfly's, their long, limpid shapes occasionally glimmering with opalescence in the ambient light. A lush fragrance dances about her as she stands awash in the wild, prismatic colours of a truefavour from Maylea, Bloom of Serenity. Scarlet hieroglyphs dance along her cheekbones and swirl towards her temples, filling the area about her head with the clear indication of Mysrai, the Scarlet Courtesan's truefavour.

She is wearing:
a frosted thistle blossom pendant hanging from a thin silvery chain
a translucent crystal bindi faintly illuminating her brow with prismatic colours
a diaphanous snoefaasia brooch of lambent diamond glittering in the ambient light
a dazzling diamond dragonfly earring through her left ear swaying with the movements of her head
a dazzling diamond dragonfly earring through her right ear swaying with the movements of her head
serene kimono robes bearing fruitful apple branches
an apple tree brooch affixed to her robe's neckline
a delicate iris tucked behind an ear
an unbroken tattoo of apple blossoms upon the collar bones
the Flame of dae'Seren dangling from her wrist, bound by an argent chain wrapping her forearm.

"Colour in particular also has a curious effect on my senses." Adrien explains, with a faint grin. "I can smell it. So occasionally, it becomes a bombardment. That said.... I am of the opinion that the world is a beautiful one."

You think to yourself: A smell?

You have emoted: Lief pauses - what can be seen of her expression might be said to be thoughtful, a glimpse of marigold orange twinkling in her eyes before flickering and fading into their clear and colorless gray. "And so you give yourself to shadow," she guesses, shifting her arms against her middle, "to ease the burden of beauty." She briefly considers. "Have you been in your Lord's company of late?"

A chuckle tugging at the corner of his lips, Adrien nods, leaning back and kicking his feet. "I have. Quite an interesting makeover." He notes, with more amusement than malice in his tone. "And a story I still wish to pick His brain over, at some point. I've only heard a very... skeletal explanation. But you are right, yes." He sits up straighter, gazing around, the two pinpricks of gold vanishing for a moment as his gaze is directed at one of the paintings in the room. "And also to commit myself to the other, oft-ignored senses. Smell, hearing, touch...."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "There are so many ways to interact with the world, and sight is only one."

You have emoted: Lief's antlered head nods, and then her wings flare out again, picking up their hum to carry her closer to Adrien. She doesn't sit or perch anywhere; she simply hovers there, bobbing and swaying as one with dragonfly appendages might, her legs tucked beneath her as though to kneel in midair. "Yes," she agrees. "On an artistic level, I do my best to make use of all of these - my favorite letters are scented, my favorite places to sit are in grass or moss..." She trails off. Perhaps she might have laughed, but not here in the dark. "You wanted to ask questions about my Lady."

Closer, it is far easier to see Adrien's smiling face, the expression light and open, even pleasantly surprised. The room is not devoid of illumination, after all - just barely lit enough to read at close distances, and reading includes a face. "Ah, yes. I wondered - what brought you to Her side?"

With a thoughtful pause and pursing of his lips, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "Ah.... You may also find the paintings here interesting, if you wish to touch them."

Caohite tells you, "Lief!"
Caohite tells you, "You are marrying Cousin Zitto! We shall be distantly related."

You have emoted: Evidently, Lief has grown used enough to the chill to allow her hands to ease out of their sleeves. They rest briefly in her lap, but Adrien's voice draws a quizzical look. She tilts her antlered head slightly, then maneuvers easily to the nearest one, fingers outstretched to brush against the dimly-defined surfaces. Her eyes close as she considers them with her palm, with her knuckles and the backs of her fingers - not her fingertips, calloused as they are.

Caohite tells you, "..This means that it would not be odd to invite Cousin Zitto to my future marriage, and have you come as well."

You tell Wyrden Idolater Caohite Inseira, Umbrated Ivory, "Oh! Oh, that is true, how very exciting!"

You tell Wyrden Idolater Caohite Inseira, Umbrated Ivory, "Yes, we shall be married, though I wonder whether or not we shall elope and celebrate with a pile of Gurashi's cakes."

You tell Wyrden Idolater Caohite Inseira, Umbrated Ivory, "I cannot wait to attend your wedding, though - it would not be improper at all! When will it be?"

Caohite tells you, "I will make a chocolate cake for you, yes?"

You tell Wyrden Idolater Caohite Inseira, Umbrated Ivory, "Yes - and your strawberries!"

Caohite tells you, "Ah, not for many years. Though Jatius is willing, I must be coronated in the Shee-Slaugh blood first. And that must wait for a sleeping grandfather."

Caohite tells you, "It is a deal then! I will make you a chocolate and strawberry cake."

You tell Wyrden Idolater Caohite Inseira, Umbrated Ivory, "Ahh, this sounds *delicious*."

** You find beneath your fingertips a map of the Basin and the mountains around it. Layer upon layer of paint has been placed, allowed to dry, and heaped upon so carefully that each mountain has its own peak. Small beads beneath your fingertips give texture of tiny houses and fillages, larger beads cities, and a clear expanse of ripple glass forms the many seas and rivers. A stippled brush brings organic texture where they ought to be leaves, and sand marks out the roads. **

You have emoted: Lief pauses, her knuckle finding a patch of sand. Her wings carry her up, and up, finding the leaves of the Serenwilde, the thin, flat line of the Alabaster Road, where she murmurs, "The Scar..." She hesitates, then half-turns, eyes opening again as she bobs by this painting. "It feels like a map," she says softly. "And up here is my home."

Adrien's smile can still be seen, quiet and kind, as he watches you learn the Basin with your hands in lieu of your eyes. "It is a map." He confirms, with a soft hum. "Sculpted from paint, rather than painted. The Basin itself is... well. Everything."

You have emoted: Lief nods her antlered head, turning from Adrien's smiling face to the map again. "Goodness," is all she can think to say before she draws back. Her hand lingers against the painting until the last moment, where it draws back to touch her heart. She turns to Adrien, then, and earnestly explains, "The Basin *is* everything. 'The world is a forest,' we teach our Sowers of the Last Seed. You can't just care about one part of it." She pauses, then flits to the next-nearest one to the left where she repeats the exploring gesture.

** The first - that is, the one in clockwise
position 'one' - Is smooth and whirling, paint in spirals with any sharp peaks carefully worn down to be smooth and rippling and pleasant to touch. Despite the cool of the room it is warm, and the painting itself seems to dome out a bit, thicker in the center of the canvas than it is near the simple, stone frame. **

It is now the 8th of Klangiary, 567 years after the Coming of Estarra.

You have emoted: Lief pauses in thought, the backs of her fingers following the swirls and spirals she finds, moving toward the center where it subtly domes. "This one," she says softly, "I do not understand. Like...water? But it is warm." This troubles her, apparently, by the tone of her last words.

Following you to where you hovers, Adrien pts out his own hand to touch the painting, thoughtful. "Ah.... It is animal-paths. Well-worn markers in the hills, smooth from time, so reliable they can be followed." His hum is faintly pleased, as his hands dropped. "People and their routines can follow much the same logic, I've found. And there's comfort in that."

[Stupid sexy Courtesan was shouting, evoking reactions for the next emote.]

You have emoted: Briefly and vaguely uncomfortable, Lief rubs at the back of her neck with her other hand, but whatever troubles her passes as she continues to study the painting. "Is this something you have observed?" she asks, following one winding trail upward. "Do you observe it in yourself?"

"I do." Adrien murmurs, with a quiet chuckle. "And I do. Most have their commitments, I find, their paths often walked."

You have emoted: "Hmm..." Lief quietly muses to herself, pausing, lingering, the side of her palm pressed against the painting. When she draws back, she tucks her hands back into her kimono's sleeves and turns curiously to study Adrien's face, dimly lit though it may be. "Is meeting like this a routine for you? Or is it confirmation of the routines we all possess?"

You think to yourself: I have my routines - some of them.

You think to yourself: Meditation, art, writing...

"Yes." Adrien's lips curl into a grin of some minor mischief, his golden eyes alight with impish amusement as he is studied, as if that is all that he intends to leave you with. After a beat, though, he laughs, the sound breathy and soft. "I... like people." He clarifies, with a faint, almost buzzing hum. "And if I only talked to people like me, how would I ever learn anything?"

You think to yourself: ... Perhaps it is more accurate to think of them as rituals. Personal rituals...

You have emoted: As she observes Adrien, Lief's eyes glimmer with curiosity - with blues flecked with gold, or perhaps the blues are violet in the shadowfire light. The laughter, soft though it is, startles her out of some spell, and she gives her antlered head a little shake before she turns from Adrien to find the next painting down with her eyes. "I like people, too," she comments before her wings carry her along, and she extricates her hand to once more view another painting.

** This one is rough to the touch - the texture doesn't feel like paint, but like cloth, soft and matte against your skin. Though the painting is large - far too large to take in with a faeling's hand breadth all in one go - multiple passes begin to paint a picture through touch. Faces, multiple bodies standing beside one another, their posture austere, their heights varied... their faces smiling, with hair smooth and feeling shiny in contrast to the organic touch of skin, and clothing, and behind them trees. **

As though making a comment to himself rather than to you, Adrien murmurs, "I only ever did have one sister."

You have emoted: Lief's ear twitches, and she pauses mid-exploration. This painting, she views with her palms upon the fabric and glossy material - with both of them, and gingerly. "This is family," she guesses, her voice nearly as hushed as Adrien's own. Not quite, but nearly.

"My mother, my sister, my father, and me." Adrien confirms, alighting on the back of a dark meditation chair to watch your progress without interruption. "Not all of us with us any longer. I am thankful for my sister. I am thankful to have a child."

You have emoted: "Do you ever wish for more family?" Lief asks, though she doesn't turn to study Adrien with her eyes. She furrows her brow in thought, instead, listening to Adrien, feeling out each figure in this family portrait with care.

"Do you?" Adrien's tone is gentle, quiet. Softly, he sighs, closing his eyes. "Often." He admitts, after a moment. "I would love to have more people who understand, the way a sister does. That dote, like a mother. And of course, she is the brighter of us two - many times, she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me along for new experiences, new wonders." His chuckle is quiet, soft, and fond. "Our commune *is* a family.... is it the same up north? But nothing really replaces a little sister."

You think to yourself: Do I...?

You think to yourself: With Zitto...

As an afterthought, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "Or several little sisters. On second thought, that's slightly terrifying."

You have emoted: Adrien's initial question, hypothetical though it is, draws a warm flush from Lief's cheeks she doesn't deign to explain or excuse. Perhaps she doesn't feel a need to - perhaps  she trusts the darkness to conceal their redness as she turns to study Adrien. "I do not think it is so in the north," she says slowly, thoughtfully, the discussion and new question cooling her temperament anew. "My sisters are my sisters, and few of my friends are nearly as close. We are very tribal in the north, even those of us who do not adhere to traditional tribal customs - and there are many tribes there."

Nodding slowly, Adrien is silent for a short time, his eyes fixed past you, over your shoulder, on the painting behind you. "...that's unfortunate." Is settled upon, after a pause, the tone thoughtful. "I live with many people who have stood beside me my whole life, who raised Aleyah and I as father died and mother moved onwards in sleep. Perhaps we are not blood.... but we are family. And I love them for it."

You have emoted: Lief shakes her antlered head, winging backwards to hover at Adrien's side. Her hands fold before her kimono's lap as she explains, "We are still very close to one another - many of us, anyway. There is just...a difference between family and friend, I think." She flashes Adrien a quick smile, one vaguely more genuine than her previous ones, then darts to explore a fourth painting, fairly open in her curiosity now.

** Jagged! So jagged! Were this made of a medium other than dry paint, surely you would cut your fingers! Sharp points erupt from the canvas, splintering outward seemingly at random, but a brave hand will find a pattern there: like a lotus blossom of thorns, the points circle around an off-centre hard bead, lines and cracks in the stone suggesting something just under the surface, waiting to be freed. **

You have emoted: Lief gasps sharply, her hand drawing back immediately after touching it, and she momentarily checks herself for a trace of blood before she hesitates. This painting, she explores with her fingertips, roughened and calloused as a musician's often is. She frowns, her eyes closing as she considers. "This painting is angry," she says quietly. "No...it is hurt. Those who are hurt would hurt others so readily. Or it...it possesses a secret, one it won't let go." This painting draws emotion from the faeling as she persistently traces every spike, careful in her approach. In the shadowfire light, a hint of dampness gleams just beneath her eye.

Barely audible, you whisper, "What is this a painting of...?"

His voice gentle, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "Rebirth."

You have emoted: Lief's fingers pause at the very tip of one spike, and she opens her eyes to gaze at the dimly lit art before her. "Never an easy thing," she whispers, a hint of roughness to her quiet words. "Never painless."

It is now the 9th of Klangiary, 567 years after the Coming of Estarra.

"Aye, I have never known a rebirth to come easy. Always harder the second time around." Adrien's chuckle is quiet, but he nods. "And it's hard to tell en media res if it's going to be worth it, I suppose. But it's good to hope, despite the pains."

You have emoted: One calloused finger pad still poised at the jagged edge of one sharp spike, Lief turns to look at Adrien. Her eyes are a perfect storm of color - it is an easy thing to see even with the naked eye in this darkness. The blues of dark and stormy skies, the sickened gold of sunlight trying to peer through, the garish pink of sunsets, the soft periwinkle of bluebells. "We will ever reap precisely what we sow," she whispers. "The seeds from our past deeds will grow into ourselves anew." She looks back to the painting, pauses, then lets her hand drop before she searches for the next, her emotions still a tumble in her eyes.

You think to yourself: The poisoned seeds of fallen Gloriana...

You think to yourself: Rebirth is hard, but it shouldn't hurt others like that. Should it?

You think to yourself: ... How has Adrien been reborn?

** The next is a pleasant departure from the jagged painting of rebirth. It is... hard - Adrien has clearly painted over something much more substantial than mere canvas - but whatever object has been used for dimension has been softened and obscured by layers of paint. The brush strokes smooth, sweeping and even, it comes across like something resting beneath a stiff, starched sheet. A pocketwatch, perhaps. The shape is right, beneath swept grooves and hills like puckered fabric. **

You have emoted: Lief's breathing evens and colors fade back to gray as she studies this painting. Finding nothing immediate to harm her, her mistrustful fingertips turn, and she studies the painting with the backs of her fingers once more, with her knuckles. She even gives the surface a curious rap, finding it is indeed solid. "This one is harder to guess at," she ventures quietly, and her voice is much closer to normal than it was during the previous painting's study.

Smiling, Adrien takes his glasses off to clean them, and for a moment his eyes go dark in the process, only his good-natured, comfortable humming leaving trace of his location. As he replaces them, he nods. "It would be." he admits, cheek in hand. "But the hour of twilight, eternally preserved.... You already know I find the darkness forgiving and gentle. It's more of that theme."

You have emoted: "Forgiving and gentle," Lief murmurs, an echo of Adrien's words. She doesn't seem to notice the change in Adrien's eyes, focused as she is upon her study. Her hand turns again, and she presses her unfeeling fingertips to the surface of this painting again. "Some flowers open only at night." She draws her hand back after a moment, satisfied, then moves on to the next painting, the penultimate one. Her outstretched hand is tentative, as though still wary of surprises.

** Insect wings.... or perhaps flower petals. The paint has been lifted off the canvas in small, round flakes that have been affixed by a single edge as regularly as snowfall. Clustering near the bottom, the canvas behind them is waxy and smooth and slightly grooved like worn-down bark of a tree. Each petal, or... wing, it's hard to tell which, is roughly half the size of a faeling's palm, and the edges are uneven, though not in a way that could be called jagged, merely organic, layered over and over upon themselves in a way that seems plentiful, busy, and alive. **

You have emoted: Lief makes a thoughtful sound, her hand turning, her palm and knuckles gradually finding the shape. She goes back and forth over some of them - back and forth, back and forth. Her eyes close: they don't help her discern what rises before her. "Your child loves the blackthorn nearly as much as your Lord," she eventually ventures without opening her eyes. "Are these flowers...?"

"And dragonflies. And butterflies." Adrien's smile is self-evident in his tone. "Feathers and leaves and lillypads. There are a lot of small, little things against a backdrop of bark, are there not?" His wings buzz, briefly, as if offering an example.

You have emoted: Lief's new thoughtful sound is almost musical - almost - as she explores the busy painting anew. "Such beautiful things, all of them. Yet they would give you a headache in their fullness, would they not?" Her fingers pause. "It must be difficult," she says softly.

"It can be." The buzzing stops, and Adrien's eyes fix on the small flakes of paint that flutter beneath your hands. "Not always. It tends to build up over time, and then I seek the quiet and the dark until the pain fades. And then I rejoin the world anew, until it comes again." His chuckle is soft. Indulgent, perhaps, of some joke he is not voicing aloud. "A cycle. A... path. A routine."

You have emoted: "Yes," Lief says simply, something vaguely troubled in her words. This painting is one she is reluctant to leave behind - she lingers here for quite a time longer than the others - until she finally bids it silent farewell with her opening eyes, and she then flits to the last painting. With some uncertainty, she reaches out to brush a knuckle against it.

Zitto tells you, "Hello, dear."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "Ah! The sweetest voice I could hope to hear. Hello, my love. Your words bring me color and joy."

Zitto tells you, "Ah, you flatter me, I think but it is good to hear you are happy."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "Not at all." Her words are effusive, belied by the faintest strain of something else - perhaps something kin to desperation. "I am in a very dark place right now, and though I carry my own colors with me, it brings me life to hear yours."

Zitto tells you, "Now I am concerned. Is there aught I can do to be of assistance?"

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "Continue to talk to me. How are you?"

Zitto tells you, "Well enough, I think. Save that the Chairwoman does not have time to speak with me."

Zitto tells you, "I will be better when I am at your side, certainly."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "Oh, I can scarcely wait to be in your company again, myself...it is chilly here. What is it that you would speak to the Chairwoman about?"

Zitto tells you, "Dark and cold. Dare I ask where you are? I hope to speak with the Chairwoman regarding the treaty with the Serenwilde."

** At first touch the canvas seems blank. Smooth paint strokes make for a uniform texture, stretching from edge to stone-framed edge. On a second pass, little depression in the paint, sparse and small as freckles, toothpick-thin lines weaving between them, too curved, slack and swirling for the Glomdoring's usual webs. The pattern they make - pinprick flaws in a smooth empty canvas, whimsical and whirling thin lines - is peaceful, subtle, and seamless. **

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "Ah! I hope to hear conversations progress - it would bring me so much peace and comfort to know we had a formal assurance of neutrality or friendship." Comment about your own question is conspicuously absent. "The Regent has written her then, I hope."

Zitto tells you, "I believe it is so. Elexia and I discussed the matter last month."

It is now the 10th of Klangiary, 567 years after the Coming of Estarra.

You have emoted: Lief's fingers sweep over the painting. She opens her eyes after the first pass, as though to discover meaning upon the canvas despite the ill-lit darkness. Briefly, dawning on her from some source not immediately visible or audible, her troubled expression lights with joy - an emotion she is quick to bring back close to her heart, the sudden flashes of colors dimming to gray once more. "Stars?" she guesses after another slow, thoughtful appraisal. "The Night?"

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "Oh, goodness. Have you heard from Faythe at all as well? Do plans proceed apace for a sober game night in Hallifax?"

Zitto tells you, "We talked. We did mention the game night, but we didn't really discuss it in detail. I was thinking perhaps in two or three months?"

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "I very much hope so! I promise to be on my very best behavior. I will not bring any whiskey for my tea into the gathering."

Zitto tells you, "Have I not been seeing your best behavior? You can be even better than you are? I can scarcely believe that."

Smiling, Adrien nods, drifting over toward you with another droning buzz of his wings, tracing the painting before them both with a reverent, gentle hand. "Night, and all Her Stars, like freckles." He hums, fond. "And my wife, after a fashion."

You have emoted: "Your wife?" Lief says quizzically, looking sidelong to Adrien's gleaming golden eyes, her hand stilling upon the painting. "I do not understand."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "I...suppose this does depend on how we are defining 'best'. I have several different 'best's, like I think you must!"

With a laugh in his voice, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "I painted things I'm fond of. Family, home and all its tiny details.... Father's Daughter reminds me of my wife. The same dark eyes, freckles, dark hair. She's also very tall, for a Faeling."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "My best behavior in Hallifax will be my best sober behavior. I shall be a shining beacon of cleverness and wit, with nary a slur to put anyone off."

Zitto tells you, "I suppose the question is which of your bests is your Lief-iest?"

You have emoted: "Mother Night is very tall," Lief says thoughtfully, the backs of her fingers slowly studying the stars again. "...Did you paint these in the dark?"

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "I am at my Lief-iest whenever I am with you."

Mulling that over for a moment, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "I painted them at night, outside. Just enough light not to make a mistake. No idea what color they are."

Zitto tells you, "All the more reason I should be at your side, then."

You have emoted: "But you did use paint for most of them." Lief drops her hand down again, gathering it with its partner over her kimono's lap as she wings about to face Adrien properly. "Seven paintings."

Adrien smiles, nodding, his attention snapping to your face. "Seven paintings. Mostly paint. Some odd objects here and there for a texture - took ages to find the rock for the center of the lotus."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "I look forward to it. It is...too dark for me to find my own way."

Zitto tells you, "I trust you when you choose not to tell me about this dark, frigid place, but I worry for you."

You have emoted: Lief's study of Adrien is quiet but steady, searching, inquisitive. "An act of worship...?"

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "If I told you, I daresay it might perhaps worry you more!"

Zitto tells you, "...And now I do worry more."

Silent for a long while, Adrien takes a seat in mid-air, his golden eyes taking in the dimly-lit room. "...Put a pin in that, as it requires an explanation. I have questions - I will answer yours in kind. Your Lady.... I can only imagine that She permeates much, if not all of your life."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "Ah! Oh, very well. It is probably not so bad as you are imagining now."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "I am in the abode of one of Nocht's worshipers."

Zitto tells you, "Worrying, but not as worrying as the uncertainty."

You have emoted: Lief tucks her legs beneath her anew, taking a modest seat opposite Adrien, something of a mirror to his posture. Her hands remain still as she listens to Adrien, watching, and when the words finally come, she nods. "How could She not? I bear a sliver of Her essence within me."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "I shall be okay! He is not here - it is only the worshiper. It is only very dark, and a little bit cold."

"It changes how you view the world, worship." Adrien continues, reasonably, nodding along with your words. "Even in those of us for whom the connection is not quite literal, They become a part of us, through devotion." He pauses, to allow his words to percolate, a moment. "The number seven is not  arbitrary. It... never is. I chose it on purpose. But the things I painted are about me - not about Him."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "Just... you know. It's hard to find the line between the two, on occasion."

You have emoted: Lief dips her antlered head toward Adrien again. "It can be, yes," she allows. Even as she hovers here, seated, her posture is both tall and mostly at ease. Her wings are a quiet, ever-persistent hum. "I see the world in so much color - so much more than existed before I grew close to Her. And with my bond to Her, I feel the color within me always."

Adrien smiles, encouragingly. "That seems a good a place as any to start - how did you find Her? What drew you close?"

You have emoted: Lief actually laughs for a moment, a sound that is bright in the darkness - a sound she is quick to quiet with an apologetic look. "Oh, forgive me - I have been asked this very much of late." Despite her expression, her smile lingers, and it grows fond with the memory. "Many of us first come to Her as flowers wanting to be painted. They want to learn themselves, to know the truths which lie underneath the surface, which lie within all of us. She is particularly good at drawing out our Truths."

"I know little of Her Truths - is that too personal to share, or...?" Adrien trails off, his tone conversational. Pleasant. He is smiling, and it is a curious, faintly wondering smile.

You have emoted: Lief opens her mouth, then considers. "I have published my own understandings of Her Truths," she offers. "I can talk about them broadly, but our number is Nine - it is a lot to discuss."

With a bit of impish mirth suffusing his murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "You suffered through seven paintings."

You have emoted: "None of them were truly suffering," Lief says with a cant of her antlered head, her fingers weaving together. She pauses briefly in consideration. "Her Truths are a means for us to learn ourselves, with the ultimate goal of Enlightenment - an understanding of our innermost truths, and how they change from moment to moment, for we ourselves do change in every moment, with every thought and breath and interaction."

Adrien nods, folding his hands over his knee and canting his head attentively, not ready to interrupt.

You have emoted: Lief's thumbs press against one another as the silence continues for a moment, only the hum of wings and flicker of shadowfire filling the cool air as she considers. "Enlightenment is the ninth Truth," she finally offers, "and while everyone's path to Enlightenment is different, it will be the last Truth that one is likely to learn. The rest instruct us in how we connect with the world around us...we explore our bonds to others, our family, our enemies. We explore how we Express ourselves. How we perceive things, how others perceive things. We learn how to discern truth, for one's perception isn't always correct."

"Our seventh translates to.... 'everything.'" Adrien offers, canting his head to one side. "Or sum of the parts of the rest. That's the big painting, by the way - the Basin."

Zitto tells you, "Is all well, dear?"

You have emoted: Lief's ears twitch, and her eyes shift from Adrien's golden gaze to the wall, to the largest painting - where its dimly lit outline can be found. "The Basin is painted for that teaching," she says slowly, recognition dawning. Her antlered head tilts, and she cups her freckled  cheek in her palm, tapping her cheek with one unfeeling fingertip. "It is your interpretation of it - how it touches you and your life."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "Ah, yes! He is picking my head for my reasons I worship our Lady. I haven't properly answered him yet - I get sidetracked asking him questions."

Smiling, Adrien nods. "It is not necessarily... a one to one translation. But as you said..." He trails off for a moment, his gaze fixing affectionately on the largest painting. "It's important to care about the all of it, not just our tiny corner."

You have emoted: "Why do you care about it?" Lief asks Adrien curiously, though she doesn't look at him, eyes still fixed upon the painting and, perhaps, the memory of its felt appearance. "I mean...everybody has a goal, yes? What would you see happen to the world?"

Zitto tells you, "Ah, that's very clever. Get more out of him than you give, if you can."

Adrien considers the basin a moment longer, pensive. "....Nothing Matters but Glomdoring, as we say." He murmurs, with a soft chuckle. "But I, personally...? I want to understand it. All of it."

You have emoted: "Why?" Lief presses gently, inquisitively.

Softly, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "I get no greater joy than when I learn something new. Knowledge was always my first love, sorry Javi."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "I...do not understand him."

You have emoted: Lief's gaze skips forward to Adrien again. In her own eyes is something quietly intense, something that flickers in burnt umber and ember red in the shadowfire. "Knowledge," she suggests without judgment, but with that underlying something in her words, "to gather like acorns for the winter? Knowledge for the power it brings you? For security? For amusement...?"

It is now the 11th of Klangiary, 567 years after the Coming of Estarra.

Humming softly, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "To gather, I suppose. To understand, to be able to relate better to... people. It's all people, really."

Laughter in his tone, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "People all the way down."

You have emoted: "Communion," Lief says softly, thoughtfully.

Smiling faintly, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "Is that so terrible a goal, young Unbroken?"

You have emoted: "'The goal of all creation is Communion,'" Lief says as though quoting. She smiles at Adrien. "If that is indeed your goal, it is a Truth we understand well."

Earnestly, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "I would not call the Glomdoring my family if I did not agree. We must grow together, to grow at all."

You have emoted: Lief nods her antlered head slowly, her appraisal still thoughtful as she regards Adrien. Quiet for a time, she finally looks past him, over Adrien's shoulder to one of the middle paintings. "What transformation did you undergo, Adrien? How are you different now from who you were once before?"

Adrien's face falls a little, though the smile remains. Sad, now, quiet, withdrawn. He bows his head with a soft chuckle, a sigh, and nods. "My father.... Kregarn. I don't know what you know of the Lord Predator... but he was among the leaders of His Pack. He was my mentor, my guide, and apart from my sister, the family member to whom I was closest."

You have emoted: Lief's eyes flit to Adrien, and she listens, quiet, concerned. "And his thread is no longer whole," she finally whispers.

Quietly, his voice hollow, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "He... left. For Gaudiguch, in the middle of an ascention, to try and sabotage the Glomdoring's reach to bring a new Ascendant into the world."

You crease your brow in a frown.

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "...And then his thread caught the knife."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "I had to re-evaluate what was important to me at that point, I wasn't.... fully sure, anymore."

-squeeze songbird for zitto saying You are ever on my mind.
You squeeze a wooden songbird gently and watch it take flight in search of Zitto amidst joyous chirping.

You have emoted: Lief nods her antlered head, her brow still furrowed as she listens to Adrien.

Zitto tells you, "Thank you, dear."

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "How I adore you."

Silent, Adrien runs his hands through his hair with a soft, and somewhat tired sigh. "That hurt. More than anyone who left before or since. Imagine if someone you love and trust, in the heat of a fight, turns around and stabs your sister through the heart."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "I didn't particularly want to wake up, for a while."

You have emoted: The very idea causes Lief to close her eyes and lift one hand, clutching the fabric over her heart.

You think to yourself: Nobody I love would do this to Elexia. Nobody.

Adrien nods solemnly at you.

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "So... a lotus. A new beginning in the centre. But sharp petals to navigate while waiting to be reborn."

You have emoted: Lief opens her eyes to gaze upon Adrien, a pained expression upon her face. She is quiet - all but silent.

You think to yourself: Sometimes, one needs to cut through the weeds for the greatest good. But a betrayal...

You think to yourself: A betrayal... is that ever the way? Is it the only way sometimes?

You think to yourself: Is it ever right? I cannot imagine...

After a long pause, Adrien tilts his head to one side, considering a small cup in his lap. "...But life goes on. New things grow and bloom, felled trees are replaced by saplings. There is still good and family, at home."

You have emoted: "Fire is painful," Lief agrees softly, "but it is healthy for the wood at large." Her hand finds the other in her lap again, and she pushes a small smile onto her face. "Thank you for sharing, Adrien. I feel I owe you something in return, but I do not know just what would be equal."

Adrien purses his lips, deep in thought.

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says to you, "I... don't rightly know, honestly. I suppose I'll take a rain check. In the meanwhile, from a long-married man, to a soon-to-be-married woman: I hope your union is prosperous, joyous, and settles into something comfortable and soft and safe, instead of brittle and heavy and cold."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "Passion does not last forever, but love is a commitment that can be quite enriching."

Cracking the faintest of smiles, Adrien adds, "Just like any well-tended garden grows."

You have emoted: "Passion?" Lief's cheeks flush in the darkness, taken aback by the word, and she glances away with a clearing of her throat for the briefest of moments. "Ah - I am certain we will ever be happy. It has all happened so suddenly that it frightens me sometimes, but..." She closes her eyes. "I know I could spend ten lifetimes learning everything about him, and never get enough."

You have emoted: Lief looks to Adrien and smiles, calm again. "Thank you."

Adrien's smile widens. "My wife teased me so much when we were young. Liked getting my dander up, getting me to break composure. She said she liked seeing who I really was. That never really went away, and I'm glad she did. Just... you know, I'm familiar with affection coming from confusing places."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "Let me show you to the exit, young Unbroken. It can be a tricky thing, navigating without sight."

A little laugh in her words, you say to Adrien, "I thought it might be. Thank you once more."

Adrien dips into a polite bow before you.

You follow Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh south to deep in the dark.
You follow Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh to the Aetherplex Chamber.
You cease to follow Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh.

You have emoted: Lief dips her antlered head into a bow before Adrien.

Adrien drifts in from the ether, eyes closed against the bright light.

Adrien smiles.

Adrien inclines his head politely to you.

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "May you ever continue to grow."

Quietly, you say to Adrien, "May your future rebirths bring you less pain."

Adrien smiles softly.

You tell Lord Zitto Shevat, a Servant Renewed, "Ah, warmth! Or - warmer, at least."