Another Year

Another year another attempt at getting unenemied to the Glomdoring :') Once I saw Kalaneya was elected as the new Commune Leader of the Forest I immediately sent her a letter and we spent a couple weeks trying to coordinate:

~~~~

Dear Newest Darkest Regent Kalaneya,

Hello - it is me, Gurashi.

Firstly I wanted to wish you congratulations on your new post as the Dark Regent. I am certain that under your guidance you will bring goodly things for the Glomdoring.

Secondly, another generation has come to pass, and so am writing in regards to my enemyship status in the Glomdoring. As per my previous letters, I still do not want to be an enemy of the Glomdoring. I am willing to pay fines, or do a tasks, or requests on the Forest's behalf. The Mother of Spiders has not been waking in a longly times. I am hopeful that in lieu of Her absence the Shadow Court might come up with some tasks they see fit to helping me resolve my status.

If this is not possible, would also kindly request to know, rather than be left in the dark, maybe. Many thank yous.

Stay goodly and kind, and go in Love in all things,
Gurashi Skydrifter

~~~

read letter226285
You read what is written on gilded arabesque stationery:
[[A swift freehand script rushes across the page, its characters looping
and slim. The embellished scrawl at the bottom of the page can barely be
considered a signature, but you are able to discern the name 'Kalaneya
Shee-Slaugh' amidst the chaos.]]

Tidings, Gurashi.

Our gratitude for your well wishes. We likewise hope that we shall
bring...'goodliness' to our position and our commune.

Our initial investigations reveal that your situation is more complex
than most: a fact of which you are most likely already aware. Be assured
that we will complete our investigation by speaking with the other
members of the Shadow Court and the representatives of our Divines. We
hope a concrete resolution can be achieved in the relatively near
future.

Sincerely,
Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh
Gilded arabesque stationery is holding:
Nothing.

~~~

You read what is written on stygian stationery dusted in shattered starlight:
[[A vaguely familiar script covers this page, written swiftly, almost as
if the writer's hand moved faster than her thoughts could form. The
signature is a bit difficult to read, but distinctly, "Kalaneya
Shee-Slaugh" emerges from the chaos.]]

Tidings, Gurashi.

We believe we have adequately investigated your case. We would like to
meet with you to discuss the terms as they have been explained to us by
others directly involved in the decision.

We will make ourselves more visible in an effort to facilitate our
communication. Please do not hesitate to reach out should you sense our
presence.

In service,
Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh
Stygian stationery dusted in shattered starlight is holding:
Nothing.

~~~~
OOC: We finally had a chance to meet August 14th
~~~~

[OOC] Kalaneya wants you to know, "There are some things that money can't buy. For everything else, there's Lusternia." Isn't that reason enough to vote? <-- how fitting

IT ME
The being standing before you exudes friendly energy, standing several inches shy of six feet tall with an athletic build. They are an ordinary human kindly demigod changeling. Their arms and legs are sinewy, the muscles in their upper body evidence of past training efforts. Their calloused hands are constantly in motion, either loosely balled into fists at their side or resting on their instrument. Two tendril-like scars akin to burns wind their way up the humans's arms, marring their knuckles, the backs of their hands, and ending finally before the elbow. Their sandy skin has been tanned from repeated exposure to the sun, causing an array of tawny-colored freckles to appear upon their round cheeks and thin, upturned nose. A moderately-sized, crescent-shaped scar mars their right cheek, having long since healed. Perhaps the most noteworthy thing about them is their untamed mop of fiery red hair, complete with a few strands at their part that fail to obey the natural laws of gravity. A shock of bone-white hair has grown in along their temple, much of it brushed behind their ear. A pair of kind gray-blue eyes gaze out from below red bangs, their color striking against all the surrounding warm hues. Tattooed on their hands is an illustration of a bumblebee constellation.
Clustered like stars, a scatter of charming freckles spreads across their cheeks and nose.
They are wearing:
a starry wreath of celestial light set atop their head like a halo
a circlet of crystal thorns resting loosely atop their head
a vivid red-orange poppy tucked lovingly behind their left ear
the Mantle of Starlight which flows dreamily about their shoulders and back
a bright orange scarf with an embossed tiger lily looped comfortably around their shoulders
aromatic cedar and cinnamon incense beads pulled taut against their right wrist
mercurial Mysraian prayer beads pulled taut against their right wrist
minty citrus incense beads pulled taut against their right wrist
a mantric voidcopper poppy worn delicately upon their left wrist
a charming wedding ring bearing a miniature white ghodak stone fitted securely to their left ring finger
a promise ring set alongside their wedding band
a comfortable hooded lounge shirt of dusk-blue lambswool which hangs loosely from their form
rugged tan adventuring trousers which fit their figure flatteringly
Refined Boots of the Paladin, worn and weathered from use

You nod your head emphatically.

You think to yourself: O-K O-K O-K.

You give a vibrant sunflower to Bizirik, the leothin.

Bright and clear, you say, "Deliver to Kalaneya."
With a toss of its head and some noisy chatter, Bizirik takes a vibrant sunflower from you with its smaller set of forelimbs and scampers off.

Bizirik reappears with a smug look on its face, sauntering up to you to encircle you endearingly before sitting down, tail slapping the ground once with pride.

Your melodic voice sings into Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia's mind, "Good morning Miss Kalaneya! I hopes the month is finding you well - I will be awake and availables for the next few days and am letting you know as suchly, yes yes! Many thank yous."

You think to yourself: I am being too needy ... ouwah.

You think to yourself: Even though my wifey is not here ... I can still plant sunflowers, yes?

You think to yourself: Is more fun when we are planting them together...

Peaceful open glade.
A few light snowflakes drift slowly downwards. Cut through by an intermittent trail leading from the pilgrims' camp nearby, this glade is surrounded by oaks of various sizes. Low grass grows across the meadow, more lush in large, wide patches where the sun has been able to reach past the branches and foliage overhead. A scatter of wild blossoms sprouts from the undergrowth, attracting bees and butterflies, and sunflowers grow tall with golden petals and heads that turn towards the direction of the sun in daylight. Here and there, there is evidence of pilgrims' presences off trail where they've conducted picnics amidst the peace and calm of the glade. Reaching tall towards the sky in golden hues, a lovely stand of five-hundred and twenty-five sunflowers grows here. Wearing a wide, floppy hat shading his face and whiskers, an aslaran pilgrim tends to the sunflowers growing here. A mature birch tree stands proudly here.
You see a single exit leading southwest.

Bright and clear, you exclaim, "I will help you plant a sunflower!"
An aslaran pilgrim wearing a floppy hat gingerly takes a sunflower seed from a small pouch at his waist and hands the seed to you. "Thank you! Please, drop the seed here and bury it in the soil."

You beam broadly.

An aslaran pilgrim wearing a floppy hat says, "These sunflowers grow quickly. A special cultivar! The sprout should come up immediately, and the sunflower should bloom after another few minutes wait, to join the stand of beautiful blossoms here."

You drop a sunflower seed.
You bend to carefully plant a sunflower seed into the ground, covering it gently with the soil of the glade and adding a touch of water.

You hum softly to yourself.

Slowly, a green, tender sunflower sprout pushes up from the soil, unfurling two tiny leaves towards the sky in hope.

You think to yourself: *much like the sunflower sprouting before them, they cannot help but cling to the hopeful feeling this terrible chapter might finally end*.

Perking up, Bizirik, the leothin begins to chitter and thrum, its tail sweeping back and forth across the ground. It cranes its neck to gently headbutt your side contentedly.

Newly full grown, the plant joins its fellows in the meadow, reaching skyward in sunny hope against a backdrop of bluish haze.

Kalaneya tells you, "Ah, tidings. We are available to meet if you are still available. We can meet you wherever you'd like."

Slowly, the blossom opens: a golden sunflower of orange-brown centre with a halo of yellow petals like tongues of flame.

Your melodic voice sings into Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia's mind, "*the aethers come to life with a splash of color and a sense of surprise* A-ahhah! Wonderful! Uhm, I am uncertain where a goodly place would be ... I do not know if the sunflower field is too public... Uhm. D-do you have a preferences?"

Kalaneya tells you, "Not particularly, no."

<-- walk walk
Overlooking Wyrded lands.
A sense of frigidness is made physical as an icy blue haze extends into the area from a shield shrine of Raezon nearby. A strong breeze whistles over the ground. The mountainside slopes steeply to the northeast, heading down to the gorge that links the Southern Mountains to Avechna's Teeth ahead. Looking out to the northwest, the barren foothills and sparse broken lands meet with dead and broken trees that cluster together into the farthest borders of Glomdoring Forest. The air here is cool and crisp, yet carries a dark stench of decay.
You see exits leading northeast and west.

Your melodic voice sings into Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia's mind, "How about here? At me? It is not very formally. But I like the view."

Kalaneya tells you, "Very well."

You feel a slight tug within your chest and the air around you sparkles with motes of bright light.

Among the sparkling motes of light, a translucent figure appears in the air and then quickly solidifies as Kalaneya comes into view.

LOOKIT SHE
Gem-pocked petrified wood studs her waifish form, its harsh contours painting sharp edges over the delicate curves of her frame. She is a crystalline lucidian demigoddess and quite curiously, bears no eyes, nose, lips, or ears to mar the smooth contour of her head and face. Veins of copper and bronze trace the lines of her delicate limbs, fracturing into smaller and smaller vessels as they flow away from her wooden heart. A line of jagged, wide crystals of the same darkened hue bursts violently from the edges of her spine, each tipped in irregular patterns of mottled turquoise. They grow into hollow cylinders of various widths and sizes extending all the way to the base of the skull before tapering into smaller protrusions over the clavicles then disappearing at the hollow of the throat. The high collar of crystals frames her featureless countenance in an effortlessly glamourous, if not outright avant-garde, manner.
Six inches high and wicked-sharp, each spire that rises from her crown is accompanied by a lattice of dark turquoise that follows the sleek onyx in dizzying fractal inclusions. These glow solemnly, creating a wintry pattern reflected upon the fathomless gem below.
She is wearing:
a wreath of midnight black roses atop her head, its manifold petals brushing her brow in hues of ebon and amethyst
a blackened chain of amethyst laden nightshade blossoms
a black glass rosethorn brooch entwined with several others in a bouquet of braided thorns
a meditation focus brooch of the blossoming rose
a wedding band of the exultant nightfall
a twisting gown of wyrd-weald auspices, styled and draped so as to lend her an air of chic nonchalance

You perk your ears up as an errant topic catches your interest.

Bright and clear, you say, "Ah! You are here!"

The sound of Kalaneya's petrified joints and muscles accompanies her stiff, formal curtsey.

You have emoted: Gurashi stiffens their entire form before bowing politely at the waist. "Good evening! I am sorry to have been so persistent... ah!"

You give a radiant skylantern of the rising sun to Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia.

Bright and clear, you say, "Ah, ouwah - w-we gave out these, too! At our anniversary. It is for you to keeps."

Rubbing the back of their head, you say, "...or release? I guess that is the point of skylanterns."

Kalaneya runs her lengthy, gnarled fingers over the skylantern, examining its contour. She then places a hand over her chest and bows in gratitude.

Kalaneya begins to wield a rose-scented notepad in her left hand.

You have emoted: Gurashi lets out a short, nervous laugh, folding their hands together as the lantern is accepted. "I hopes you have been well," They murmur. "It has been a while."

Kalaneya swiftly scribes a message in her notepad and tips it to you. "Indeed, it has. We have been well. And yourself?"

Moving as if in slow motion, Kalaneya seats herself upon the ground, facing the waning warmth of the sunset.

You have emoted: Gurashi fiddles with their wedding ring, leaning forward to read the notepad, mouth moving to form the words silently. They lean back then, tilting their head. "I ah doing O-K. I-I forgots it was more difficultly to speaks as a lucidian - I was worried, for a moment..." They huff, their own face turning towards the setting sun, squinting before looking back at Kalaneya, beaming. "You write a lot faster than me!"

You beam broadly at Kalaneya.

You think to yourself: *an immediate pang of regret - was that a rude thing to say?*.

Kalaneya smooths out her gown, the sound of creaking joints punctuating the ruffle of the fabric. She waves her hand dismissively, as if to banish a spectre of negative thought, then beckons you to sit beside her.

You have emoted: Gurashi lets out another short noise, swiftly moving to Kalaneya's side and sinking to sit upon the ground, awkwardly repositioning themselves to mirror her seated self. They fold their hands in their lap, continuing to fiddle with their ring. "Many thank yous."

Kalaneya swiftly scribes a message in her notepad and tips it to you. "We are glad you are at least, okay." She taps the end of her quill to her chin, eliciting a few soft clinks. "As we recall, you had an inquiry regarding your enemy status with the Glomdoring," she writes. "Unless there is other business you wish to discuss, we can begin that conversation."

A light smattering of clouds now covers the sky.

The pulsing beam from New Celest's lighthouse surges brilliantly, a shining beacon of hope that cuts through the night sky across the entirety of the Basin of Life.

You have emoted: Gurashi leans over to read the page proffered to them before sitting back in their spot again, picking at their nailbeds. "I suppose that is all, I thinks," They murmur, peeking beside them at the lucidian.

Midnight shadows coalesce around a new day, and Mother Night embraces the land in utter darkness.
It is now the 7th of Urlachmar, 626 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 9 days until the New Moon

You think to yourself: *they find themselves wrestling with uncertainty - should they ask more than that?*.

Kalaneya swiftly scribes a message in her notepad and tips it to you. "Very good, then." A slight nod. She turns the notepad back and continues writing. "We have spoken with the remainder of the Shadow Court and representatives of the Lady Viravain's Order. The conclusion is not ambiguous." She finishes by setting the notepad upon the ground for easy viewing. She slides a leaflet next to the notepad.

Kalaneya swiftly scribes a message in her notepad. "We desire, however, to understand your perspective on the matter. What indeed, do you believe your transgression was?"

With messier script, Kalaneya addends a message in her notepad. "We ask this in an effort to understand each perspective, of course."

You have emoted: Gurashi inhales slowly through their nose at the mention of the Shadow Court, inadvertently leaning forward to squint down at the text written. Then, they look at the leaflet as it is placed down belatedly, curious. At the question that is then asked, they inhale slowly through their nose, leaning back in their spot and slowly looking down into their lap. "I betrayed the Glomdoring. I was told not to do a thing, but was so unhappy I did it anyway. And I lied about it. And hid it." They pause. "And hurt a lot of peoples because of it."

Slowly, you say, "So ... treasons."

A tacit, subtle nod. Kalaneya scribes a message upon the notepad. "You were asked to undergo a task, as we understand it. What was the task, and what did you do?"

You have emoted: Gurashi's expression scrunches further, and they gently pinch at their ring finger. "To converts two peoples to come to the Glomdoring." Suddenly they look over at Kalaneya, puffing their cheeks as they pout. "But then Miss Aknarin left New Celest and told Miss then-Darkest-Regents Kreon that I convinced her, but that was not -true-. A-and then when I spoke to Miss Kreon, -she- asked me me to convince Miss Auriella..." They swallow hard. "But I could not do it."

Tiredly staring over the land below the mountains, you say, "I did not want to get kicked out a second times."

You have emoted: Gurashi pauses, then shakes their head, muttering. "Sorry. I failed that tasks - the bringing peoples ones."

Golden shades radiate from your chest and your heart beats faster with newly-appeared determination.

You think to yourself: *they realize they are talking too much, saying more than needs to be said and blaming others when ultimately: they were the one who failed the task*.

Kalaneya's joints emit a dire groan as she enfolds her spindly fingers again around her quill. "We suppose that this is accurate." she notes upon the parchment.

Unfolding the leaflet as she slides it towards Gurashi, Kalaneya gives a long, narrow leaflet to you.

The night-time mountain air causes you to shiver slightly.

You tilt your head curiously at a long, narrow leaflet.

(Page 1)
In Regards to the Enemy Status of Gurashi Skydrifter
----------------------------------------------------
Crime: Treason
Brand: Irredeemable
Terms of Penance:
1) As per the Edict of the Irredeemable, noted below.
2) Completion of an additional task, assigned by the Lady Viravain: in
good faith, convince three mortals to join the Glomdoring commune.
Exceptions:
Xenthos An'Ryshe has recused himself from voting in this case. All
calculations of majority will be made with this numerical modification.
Should Xenthos An'Ryshe sit upon the Shadow Court at the time of
considering Gurashi's enemyship, he will be exempted from the vote of
the seated Shadow Court. A unanimous vote of the remaining three members
is still required for unenemying.
Appendix:
-------------------------
Edict of the Irredeemable
-------------------------
Those branded Irredeemable are those who have truly earned the ire of
the Glomdoring. To be named Irredeemable, four members of the seated
Shadow Court and two other members of the Court must affirm that they
truly deserve this Brand. Any review of this status or this Brand
requires a full consensus of the Seated Court, as well as a two-thirds
majority of the full Shadow Court.

You have emoted: Gurashi gently collects the leaflet from Kalaneya's hands, then holds it before themselves, slowly beginning to read down it with wide eyes.

You think to yourself: Irredeemable...

Kalaneya swiftly scribes a message in her notepad. "These are the terms of your unenemying. You will note the task has not changed. In fact, nothing at all has changed."

You have emoted: Gurashi blinks slowly as they stare down at the words written. Slowly they turn to look at Kalaneya, lowering the leaflet to their lap. They remain mute, expression scrunching as they look out towards the Forest below.

"The brand of the Irredeemable is the highest that the Glomdoring has to offer," Kalaneya writes upon the parchment. "You share the brand with such persons as Zagreus, Avurekhos, and the like." A pause in her writing as she ponders her words going forward. "What thoughts have you thus far?"

You have emoted: Gurashi remains silent for a long while, lifting an arm to wipe their eyes with the back of their hand. Eventually they return to looking at the leaflet, gray eyes watery and chin quivering as they fight to speak. Eventually, they take a deep breath and sniffle, unable to look away from Kalaneya's notepad. "Am sorry," They croak out finally. "Is, the firstly thoughts. The biggest one." They sink back to sit in their spot, sagging exhausted. "Am sorry ... that it ever became so badly ... uhm..."

Voice wavering with nervous laughter, you say, "To know that what I did hurt the Forest as much as peoples like -that-, ah," They sniffle. "It feels very -badly-, yes... it never -stopped- feeling badly, really."

You have emoted: "But you asked my thoughts thus far. Am starting to have all-over thoughts," Gurashi murmurs, bringing up both hands to cover their face. "I know how terribly I failed my tasks the first time. And so now I sees it again before me, with an additional persons to convince..." They pull on their cheeks, hands dropping defeatedly into their lap as the stare down tearfully at the leaflet.

You think to yourself: *their mind reels with the same thought over and over, louder than their concerns over pleasing the Mother of Spiders or seeing Akuuko again: Xenthos is never going to talk to them again*.

Voice wavering, you say, "Sorry I will stop talking so muchly now."

Ponderously, Kalaneya carefully scribes a message in her notepad. "We certainly believe that you feel quite badly, yes." A momentary flush of violet colours the tips her of crystals and subsides just as quickly. She reaches into a small letterbox and delicately picks out a letter decorated with a bumblebee motif. A grim crepitation sounds from her wrist as she sweeps a gnarled finger over the parchment. "What is interesting was your proposal of a penance in this initial missive. A fine," she writes. "We must ask: what did you believe to be an adequate penance?" A questioning pulse of gold colours the crown of her head.

You have emoted: Gurashi shrugs simply, wiping at their eyes one final time before returning to their previous fidgeting. "I ...do not know," They murmur. "Probably muchly more than I haves on my persons." They glance at the letter in Kalaneya's hands, their ears growing red as they shyly look down. "I was just desperately for an alternatives," They confess. "Millions, at least."

You think to yourself: *they feel their head growing more and more full, as if someone were slowly pumping air in through their ears*.

A roiling pulse of black and crimson passes over Kalaneya's featureless mien. She lifts her head in your direction, as if pondering you. Yet another careful, emphatic message. "Indeed, we do believe you feel badly. But we also believe that your transgressions require quite an extensive penance due to their severity." Another letter from the letterbox: this time, one of pure ivory, brushed with blossoms coloured in warm shades.

You sniffle softly.

You have emoted: Gurashi glances over at Kalaneya as the new letter emerges, twisting their wedding ring on their finger. They tilt their head slightly, a wordless inquiry.

Kalaneya sets the invitation upon the ground before her, turned towards you. She taps her a long, gnarled finger upon the last line, indenting the parchment with the movement. "Go in Love in all things," it says, written in your handwriting. She folds the invitation back up and slips it back into the letterbox.

"We must ask," Kalaneya she writes. "For you to explain this interesting phrase."

A familiar sense of awe spreads through you as you contemplate the beauty of creation.

Shadows grow longer in anticipation for the return of their dark mistress as Father Sun's chase brings him closer to the world's edge.

You have emoted: Gurashi blinks slowly at the letter, as if finally recognizing it. They inhale slowly, sinking back to sit properly, gathering their thoughts. They sniffle again, looking down at the leaflet they still hold before answering: "It is... wanting to makes and send out lots of foods to your friends, family, and allies, so they are healthy and fed ... is when you are designing a gift for somebody who could use the smiles... sending letters, so someone knows they are thinking of you." They swallow hard. "Love expresses itselfs in countless ways... it should be in all that we do. Be-cause, we Choose to be kindly, and thinks of others in addition to yourself - to makes the world a little kinder, then, for the futures."

You think to yourself: *they rip their gaze away from the leaflet, focus on their surrounds, the night air, the creatures that pass by - they can feel some of the pressure relieve itself somewhat, clearing their mind of some of its drowning haze*.

Kalaneya sits back in an elegant, thoughtful pose, though her crystalline mien reveals something quite different. Flashes of crimson ricochet through her veins before being muted by the coolness of the eventide's violet. Sparks of warm orange around her heart flare powerfully, burning out into nothing as a heavy stygian blackness rises from her gut to her crown, darkening her veins. Slowly, her hand manifests a phrase upon the notepad: "It is as we expected, then."

You have emoted: Gurashi frowns deeply, their attention drawn to Kalaneya as the lucidian's color shifts wildly. They look down at what she's written, then back at the her face.

Pen never leaving the notepad, Kalaneya continues to writes again in her notepad, the words progressively tumbling out quicker than her quill can capture. "We loved you, Gurashi. Not just we, she who is Kalaneya, but all of us. The song of the forest sang its duet with your through your violin." Faster, more frenzied. "All of us believed in your love of our forest, of our community. You cared for us, and we cared for you."

Kalaneya stares straight ahead at you. A sorrowful shade of indigo pulses at her neck, mimicking the heaving sighs of sobbing, accompanying her tears that never fall. "What happens?" she questions, the quill slowing considerably. "What happens when love is betrayed? Is this..." A trail of ink crosses the expanse of the parchment, a single line alone. "...not the most severe of all crimes?"

You have emoted: Gurashi's gray eyes begin to water again as they lean closer to read Kalaneya's frantic writing, their hands balling into fists within their lap. By the time the first line is finished, tears are sliding down their cheeks, landing in their lap, wetting the leaflet.

Quietly, you say, "Am so sorry."

Kalaneya exhales deeply, producing a low-pitched sigh of dissonant minor semitones.

You think to yourself: *all at once the full-headed feeling returns, choking out all the many thoughts flying around in their head, all the things they want to say, wish they could say, wish they -had- said*.

Her hand again moves to the quill, but the writing that is produced is distinctly different. Kalaneya slowly, painfully slowly, produces a blocky writing framed with fractals of ink from the length of time the quill spends on the page.

You think to yourself: *they know the answer clearly now, lived with it long enough: "The heart rots."*.

You have emoted: Gurashi swallows hard, not bothering to wipe at their face, staring mournfully at the lucidian seated beside them as she begins again, at last, to write.

"SHE IS GONE. SHE WILL RETURN. IT IS AN UNFORTUNATE CONSEQUENCE OF OUR ARRANGEMENT." Kalaneya writes. "BUT THE TASK MUST BE QUITE CLEAR TO YOU." Her veins have cleared, returning to their native turquoise. "YOU MUST REGAIN THE LOVE OF THOSE WHO YOU HAVE BETRAYED."

"YOU MUST ADD TO THE COMMUNITY THREEFOLD, IN THE HOPES THAT IT MAY GAIN WHAT IT HAS LOST FROM LOSING YOU." Kalaneya continues. "IT IS NOT EASY. BUT," A touch of pinkish amusement passes across her face. "AS AN OBSERVER, I THINK IT FAIR."

Bizirik, the leothin snorts from its spot behind the pair, ceasing its bored grooming to look over at its human compatriot who sits trembling in their spot. The leothin snuffles at the back of the human's head, snorting hard enough to disturb their hair.

You have emoted: Though Gurashi remains mute throughout the entirety of Kalaneya's writing, they finally nod, acknowledging the words written so plainly and loudly before them. With some effort, they force out a tentative, "I understand," looking down at the now-crinkly leaflet.

Voice wavering, you say, "Thank you for meeting with me, today."

Bizirik, the leothin sniffs Kalaneya, trying to decipher just what that smell emanating from her is.

The Mantle of Starlight flows gently against your form, twinkling stars shifting across its surface as the starry infinity continues its eternal motion.

Slower than the most languid largo, Kalaneya rises from her seated position, her joints protesting the entire way up. She extends a hand out before her to offer you help.

You have emoted: Gurashi glances up at Kalaneya as the lucidian rises, but after staring at the proffered hand for a time, they accept it, pulling themselves up to their feet. "Thank you," They murmur, giving the lucidian's hand a brief squeeze before drawing it in towards their center, fingers nervously lacing together. "I should have done that - you are kindly." They murmur.

Kalaneya inclines her head politely to those around her.

Kalaneya taps her chin contemplatively, generating a soft, melodic clinking.

Bright and clear, you say, "I ..."

You have emoted: Gurashi looks at the leaflet, squeezing it tightly before looking up at Kalaneya again, bowing their head. "Thank you, for giving me so muchly of your time," They murmur, head still bowed. "I will not take up any more of it."

Kalaneya releases your hand and returns to her quill. "SHE BELIEVES IN YOU," she notes. "THAT IS ALL."

Kalaneya bids all a farewell with a slow wave of her arboriform arm through the air.

You have been recognised by Kalaneya for: Everyone's crying.

Kalaneya trudges off to the west, towards the wyrden forest below.

You have emoted: Gurashi looks down at the final note that has been written, their brow furrowing together. They offer the lucidian one final trembling smile before sliding something into her hands, turning and quickly jogging their way down the path from whence they came.

You portal to The Hoard and the Hive.
A bright, forestal curiosities room.                   (#HAH_1)
The first discernible sensation upon entering this room is a mixture of earthy smells; mulch, petrichor, decaying wood, and the heady scent of Wyrden roses saturate the air. As one's eyes adjust to the darkness, barely abated by shadowflame sconces hung on the walls, tall figures begin to emerge. Expansive shelves carved to look like tree trunks seem to grow out of the floor and reach clear to the ceiling. The moss-green rug has been cut to fit neatly between each root and around each curve, giving the illusion of springy turf underfoot. Gently glowing fungi, which seem to be growing out of the shelves at random, make it just possible to see their contents. On one shelf, a scorched dragonturtle shell and a dried starfish sit beside a glistening glasswork recreation of a pile of salmon roe. On another, a pair of arrows with heart-shaped heads are arranged with one crossed over the other, and a scented love-letter lies on top of them. Other shelves are crammed with an increasingly peculiar assortment of knickknacks: an ice pick, a tiny red stone, a dusty brown bottle with "Alchywhole" written in a barely legible script, a cuddly stuffed Tae'dae bear, a miniature rockeater figurine, an ornate ivory pipe, a pile of glittering Czigany coins, and a charm bracelet that looks to be of Fae origin. One rather macabre shelf holds a coiled slave master's whip and a skull that appears to have belonged to a Krokani before it made its way here. Still other shelves lie bare, waiting to be filled with more mementos of adventure to come, and in the corner of one of them a tiny black spider has made its web. A brightly colourful tapestry depicting a bear filled picnic has been hung on a nearby wall. A small table hewn from a ravenwood trunk has been upended here, providing a small surface on which to rest various objects. Depicting the four trees of Glomdoring in stylistic renditions, a woven, rose-scented rug spreads across the floor. There are 2 lyre-backed chairs here. Hanging from fine silver, this large snowflake lantern has light blue gems dangling beneath it, causing a gentle sway. A broad glass-faced display rack for musical instruments stands proudly here. A painting of A Stack of Cats is proudly exhibited on a nearby wall. A shimmering blue circle floats in the room here. A marble archway stands here, elegantly arcing up from ground to ceiling. You see a sign here instructing you to use the PORTAL command to enter the aetherplex system.
You see exits leading north (open door), east (closed door), south (open door), and southwest (open door).

You feel an ice-rimed necklace bound with a frost-touched gem warm on your skin, just before it flares briefly with a soft light.

You have emoted: Gurashi pauses as they arrive in the center of the Portal to their manse, their face still streaked with ugly tears. Slowly, their attention drifts to the leaflet in their hand, turning over its crumpled form as if they might find more words written on the back. But there is nothing there, and their expression scrunches with frustration. Suddenly, they crinkle the leaflet between both hands, practically tearing it as they let out a piercing cry of frustration. Unfettered psionic energy the color of blood pours out of their exhausted body, over their flesh to consume every freckle and hair before it hits the objects on the shelves like a tidal wave, causing most to fall and several more to topple off of the shelves entirely, scoots the table and chairs several inches. The glass on the nearby window panes crack just as their voice too breaks, and they collapse in their spot on the ground as the light leaves them, steam rising off their panting, angry form.

You reach out and embrace your hidden heritage of a changeling, and slowly transform into a viscanti.
Your race is now that of Viscanti.

LOOK GURANTI
A colorful scarf has been wrapped around the head and shoulders of this individual, partially obscuring their face from view in an attempt at being discreet. In spite of this attempt, one can see they are a fiendish viscanti kindly demigod changeling. They stand at graceful six-foot even, their limbs slender and their slim figure bordering on feminine in its slight curvature. Dark, violet-gray skin covers the entirety of their form, possessing a faint iridescent sheen when standing in the right light. Each of their hands ends in sharp talon-like claws the color of murky starlight, while both of their arms bear winding scars that trace up the entirety of their forearm, ending just below the elbow. Their long face is pointed and slender, nose long and pointed, the fainted hint of pitch freckles marking their cheeks and nose. A moderately sized crescent-shaped scar mars their right cheek, almost white against all the grays and violets. A pair of sleepy almond-shaped eyes house hazy gray sclera bearing strikingly orange pupils, each eye like a pinpoint of fire against their dark face. Rising sharply from either side of their head are two pairs of dark gray horns, the wickedly sharp ridged lengths curving back as if they've been windswept. Both horns on the left side look to have been broken off crudely, their full shape lost in some previous conflict. A mop of short iridescent blue-black hair graces the top of their head, framing their horns and face, and a shock of bone white has grown in along their temple. Trailing behind and twitching with a mind of its own is a slender gray tail, which tapers at its end into a flat, notched fin. Tattooed on their hands is an illustration of a bumblebee constellation.

Bizirik, the leothin whines softly as the energy fades, creeping closer and eventually laying its long angular head down in the now-viscanti's lap. It shoves its face against their clawed hands, petting itself where they will not.