The Wall That Wounds

The soft voice of Illyria tickles your ear, "." A touch, lighter than a tendril of smoke.
"Eventidings, Avaris."

You tell Reader Illyria, Listener of the Silent Knell, "[Distracted attention, polite, if not cold.]
Good evening, Reader. Are you well?"

The soft voice of Illyria tickles your ear, "I do not mean to intrude, should you be busy. I simply
wished to see how you fared."

You tell Reader Illyria, Listener of the Silent Knell, "I am capable of speaking in more than one
conversation simultaneously. I am well enough, now that I am home once more. What of yourself?"

The soft voice of Illyria tickles your ear, "Home once more? You had not left Celest in the first
place, I thought?" [A quiet puzzlement]."

You tell Reader Illyria, Listener of the Silent Knell, "Ah. New Celest is where I reside, but my
home is with my Lady, wheresoever She casts Her light."

The soft voice of Illyria tickles your ear, "[like the space between stars, the stillness and
silence are total as she processes this]."

The soft voice of Illyria tickles your ear, "You went back to Her? [the words are nearly intangible,
the barest breath and smallest touch, confused utterly] After.. She did that to you?"

You tell Reader Illyria, Listener of the Silent Knell, "She accepted me back into Her service. [The
words are delivered in a neutral fashion, careful, verging on guarded.] I said to your Lord that it
was I that was the cruel one, did I not? That is because I asked Her to make my task of Fortitude a
trial of as much severity as She could. It was...Very selfish of me, I think, now. I was unkind to
Her in the extreme."

The soft voice of Illyria tickles your ear, "[after a long silence] I see. [the spaces of her mind
are tranquil on the surface, dark and cool, but a maelstrom of contemplation lurks beneath the
surface] You know, Avaris.. you are like me in many ways. But you choose to wear the voluntary scars
of your service on the inside, rather than the outside."

The soft voice of Illyria tickles your ear, "I wish you well. That has not changed. But you should
have a thought for how your actions effect those other than yourself. [The words are delivered not
in an angry or accusatory manner, but a gentle, thoughtful one] Did you put Her through a trial of
fortitude as well, proving yourself? Did She deserve that? I still think it was cruel of Her to
grant it, but..."

You tell Reader Illyria, Listener of the Silent Knell, "[Cool as his words have been, they grow more
chill still, until they verge on the frigid - Blades of terribly cold light that glint with
restrained warning, born upon distant currents of anger.] There is no wounding in my service to my
Lady. All my scars are self-inflicted. [An intensifying of the light, condensing into a harder,
flatter edge, mirrored in his voice.] My Lady is not cruel. She is kindness itself."

The soft voice of Illyria tickles your ear, "As are all of mine. And happily given. Be well, then,
Avaris."

You feel a distant sense of bemusement, at once distant and piercing, though you sense you are not
the target of such emotion. A brief vision flashes in your mind's eye -- a shadowy figure, with a
veiled countenance, standing at the centre of a pool of water and light to regard a star lotus in
eternal bloom. Then it fades, and with it, a sense of cool, flat regard.

At once, Avaris's antennae nearly flatten forward, such is the severity of his
frown as he lifts his head skyward, his lower left hand shifting to the ampoule that rests at his
hip.

You think to yourself: Flat displeasure, cold and sharp. "She had best not be troubling my Lady with
her whispered doubts and softly wielded words."

You think to yourself: The urge to check with Her, to see...What? She could handle far greater
threats than a mere mortal. He would just be distracting Her. Best to keep his peace.

Clawed index finger tapping in measured rhythm upon the lacquer of his upper left
scabbard, Avaris's agitation is constrained - though it is obvious he is occupying his hand to keep
it from going to the ampoule that rests peacefully upon his hip.

You think to yourself: "What is she saying to Her?"

((Little bit later.))

You sense the passage of Cheliyi to the northwest with a faceted pair of crystalline ears.

Cheliyi enters from the northwest, a thin sheen of water rippling outward from every step.
Trailing in a bone-chilling fog, Muginn, the ghost-feathered magpie flies in from the northwest.
Cheliyi steps into the area, glancing around curiously until her gaze finally settles on you. The
mugwump lingers on the very edge of the bridge for a brief moment of hesitation, though she finally
walks up to the kephera and hops up to sit on the nearby stone railing. "Ah, goodly evenings, Mister
Avaris."

Like a receding mist, a tension lifts from you, sighing into the aether with a sparkle of evanescent
shadow and starlight.

Antennae nearly flat, such is the intensity of their downward angle, Avaris stands
upon the edge of the pond, the index finger of his lower left hand tapping a slow, sharp beat upon
the smooth lacquer of upper, left-side scabbard. Though he does not turn his head to face Cheliyi,
the manner in which several of the glowing eyes of his plumage are already staring in the direction
of Cheliyi's entrance, and the tone of his response indicate Cheliyi's arrival does not take him by
surprise. "Cheliyi. Is it?"

The point of Avaris's chin lifts a shade as the constellation of his light-forged
eyes rove about carefully, as if searching for something - And not finding it.

You think to yourself: Concern - Baseless concern, he knows, but he cannot help it. The agitation of
the futility of such instincts is bitter and sharp, jagged edges of glass coated in poison.

Cheliyi pauses at the question, glancing up to the night sky. Her slight frown softens into a smile,
watching the countless constellations. "Well, the stars are out, so I would say sos. And," She
instinctively winces at the beam of light cast across the city, "So are the beacons. Is a goodly
night." Her tail flicks idly behind her, and she wordlessly places a cookie in front of you.

Cheliyi blinks.

Cheerfully, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Ah, happy new years!"

The sugary offering is accepted with a polite nod of thanks, though Avaris makes no
move to accept it. The tap-tap-tap of his clawed finger grows still for a time, the cruel tip
resting upon the curving surface of the scabbard in silence. "I am glad that you find the night to
be a pleasant one, Cheliyi." In a distracted, unenthusiastic fashion, "Happy new year to you as
well."

Stirring with a near visible effort, Avaris turns his visored face to Cheliyi,
asking, "What brings you here? Is there aught I can do for you?"

Cheliyi glances up at your face, frowning slightly as he turns. There is a quiet silence that
follows her stare, though it seems more searching than anything judgemental.

Softly, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Have you taken care of yourself, today, Mister
Avaris? Drinken waters, eaten foods? Had sleep?"

Avaris's answer is preoccupied as he lifts his upper right hand in a dismissive
wave. "I do not require sleep to any real degree, nor food, nor water. I am hale, do not worry."

Cheliyi nods slightly. "Are right, we do not need those things, for physicallies. But... we are
still part mortals. Our brains, and heads, they need those comforts to feel... normal, every once in
a whiles." She pauses again. Simply, she says, "You seem worried. And tired."

You think to yourself: When was he not?

Softer, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "It is not normal, to -always- be tired. To
-always- be vigilant. We have to give ourselves comfort times. Otherwise we burn the candle to its
core."

The gleaming spears of chitin that thrust through the golden halos of Avaris's
shoulders glint with the distant light of the stars as he shrugs. "Do I seem a very normal person to
you, Cheliyi? I will ever be vigilant. It is who I am."

Seriously, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Yes. You are a normal person. A person who
cares, and who watches. But you are made of -chitin- Mister Avaris. Not stone."

Flicking the back of one of his fingers against the plating of his densely armoured
torso, Avaris replies in complete seriousness, "Correct. I am stronger than mere stone."

Cheliyi stares implacably at you.

Cheliyi steeples her fingers together, giving you an exasperated Look from atop her tinted
spectacles. "Then you are not made of -steel-. The point is that you need, and I mean -need- to give
yourself breaks. Loosen the burden once in a whiles, so that you are stronger later."

In a calm, infuriatingly even tone of voice, Avaris says, "My chitin is stronger
than most conventional steel, as well. In addition, as a kephera, I am capable of further
strengthening myself via psionic infusion." Another minute shrug, indifferent. "I do not require
'breaks'. I will not yield."

Cheliyi pinches the bridge of her nose. "And let me guess, you are denser than most irons?"

In precisely the same manner, unperturbed, Avaris replies, "Correct."

Her frills flaring with frustration, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Mister Avaris, it
does not matter how strong your body is. I am glad, that you have Fortitudes. But Fortitude is not
to be used every day, all the time. Is a tool for every now and thens. So, am asking you, if you
wants, to tell me what is bothering you so it does not burden you alones, yes."

The light spread of cloud overhead fluffs up into sparse cotton bodies.

Cheliyi's ire washes over Avaris with as much effect as a roiling wave frothing
about a stone, the giant, aureate figure unmoved and unmoving. "We disagree in this. Fortitude is to
be incorporated into every facet of life, at all times."

Turning his head slightly towards Cheliyi, Avaris asks, declining the offer via
silence, "What has brought you here, Cheliyi? You do not often seek me out unless there is something
troubling you."

Cheliyi closes her eyes with her face upturned, as if trying to ask the heavens for patience. She
eventually sighs, deflating. "I just... wanted to sit with yous. And you seemed bothered, and I
wanted to see if I could help."

Withdrawing his lower right hand from beneath the thick, feathered cloak of his
wings, Avaris opens it in invitation, indicating the grass near him. "Sit, please. I appreciate your
kindness, but you should know by now that I am not in need of such."

Cheliyi stares implacably at you.

Cheliyi finally relents, settling beside you in the grass.

With a sigh, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "You're an idiots."

Cheliyi pats you in a friendly manner.

Like a gentle ripple in a crystalline pool, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "But so am
Is."

Cheliyi nibbles on a cheery mugwump cookie with raspberry jam hair.

Dipping his head in a benign manner, Avaris replies, unconcerned, "I keep telling
people that. It is refreshing, to have someone agree to the obvious, for once."

Cheliyi rolls her eyes.

Flopping back onto the grass, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Should try the cookie. It
is really tasty, yes."

With a minute back and forth motion of his head in a negative, Avaris says, "No
thank you. I am not hungry."

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say to Cheliyi, "How are you? Aside from frustrated with
me, that is."

Cheliyi hums noncommittally.

Staring up at the clouds, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "It is frustrating, when you
have a constant belief that you are dumb and little and insignificant, and then when we tell you,
you are not, you do not believe us. Yet at the same time you refuse to accept help, saying you are
above such needs. It is as if you wants us to watch helplessly from the shore while you sink into
the sea."

The light spread of cloud overhead fluffs up into sparse cotton bodies.

Weighing Cheliyi's words for a time in silence, the breeze stirring the thick fluff
of his mane, Avaris regards the gently rippling waters of the pool, hands clasped beneath the
layered expanse of his wings. "I will not sink. I do not want or require anyone to watch, from shore
or otherwise. I neither require, nor desire, recognition, pity, or sympathy. I simply wish to serve
as best I am able."

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say, "I am stubborn and a fool. I am aware of how
frustrating the combination can be, but I try not to inflict it upon others as much as I can."

"That isn't-" Cheliyi bites out, her frills flaring again. She hisses out a sigh, sitting up once
more. "You keep missing the -points-. It does not have to be so bad as sinking, Mister Avaris. Do
you know how that feels, to be unable to help with a single thing? To watch the persons you care
about, burn in front of you?" She sighs. "It hurts, okays? To reach out your hand to a person and to
have them stare at it in scorns, and then turn around and suffer alone. Even when you're -right
there-." She leans forward, frustration coiling like her limbs. "People are going to care about you,
Mister Avaris. When you help them, they are -going- to help you. They are going to watch. When you
move the strings in the weave, you are not above it alls. They will pull -right- back. You are a
person, that we care about, and I want you to get that idea through your thick skull!"

You think to yourself: The phantom sensation of a chitinous form held tight in his arms, squeezed
close to stop the madly thrashing limbs from being dashes against cold, unfeeling rock. Every scream
gouging at his heart like an accusatory knife, again and again- The memory clamped down brutally
hard, shut off by a guillotine of will. Oh, he knew, alright. He knew.

Cheliyi's anger splutters out like a matchstick as her frills twitch, and she stares blankly at the
ground in sudden silence.

For a brief moment, there is a growing tension in Avaris's broad frame, the grating
of plated fingers dragging against one another as they clench. He breathes out a long, steadying
breath, and relaxes once again, as still and calm as before. "I will be fine, Cheliyi. I am always,
in the end, fine. Do not worry."

With implacable, maddening patience, Avaris says, "You do not need to worry about
me. None of you do."

Cheliyi lets out an angry noise, eerily similar to the sound of a tree trunk cracking in half.
"Just, for gods sakes, get over here."

Cheliyi hugs you with no small amount of effort, pulling you into a tight embrace.

What vestiges of ease that Avaris has adopted vanish like mist beneath a grasping
hand as he grows abruptly rigid at Cheliyi's touch, straightening like a wire pulled suddenly taut.
He holds himself very still, though not so much so that the thrumming tension of his form is at all
diminished. Despite his evident discomfort, he says nothing, and makes no attempt to pry Cheliyi
off.

Quietly, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Look, see? Am not being stabbed at alls. The
hug is fine. I'm fine."

Softer, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "You're allowed to be -not- fine."

Cheliyi pulls away, staring up at you with an almost pleading expression.

Cheliyi's assurances have no apparent effect upon Avaris as the rigidity of his
posture diminishes not in the slightest. With a tiny, jerking motion of chin, he nods, and takes a
huge step back, creating a gulf of distance between himself and Cheliyi. In a stiff, painfully
formal manner, he replies, "No. I am not. I will not permit it."

Cheliyi's expression wilts at the widening distance, though she makes no effort to close it. Ever
soft and concerned, she asks, "Why will you not permit it?"

Staring directly ahead, and thus well over Cheliyi, Avaris replies, "It is my
purpose. That is all there is to it."

Frowning, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Clearly, it is not, because I am not
understanding. What is your purpose, thens?"

Antennae so stiff that they the gentle breeze parts about them like water about a
quartet of blades, Avaris says, "To protect. To endure. To take up burdens and persist without
faltering. To never yield."

Cheliyi shifts her weight as she stares up at you with a deeping worry. "... and why is that your
purpose?"

Simply, Avaris replies, "It is what I was made for."

You think to yourself: "Though I failed even in that."

Cheliyi stares implacably at you.

Like a gentle ripple in a crystalline pool, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "No one is
-made- for anything. We just exist, and find a purpose. So who told you that it was your job to be a
wall?"

Gradually, Avaris's visored face lowers to give Cheliyi an unreadable look, an odd
quality to his layered voice as he asks, "Have you ever been to the Hives, Cheliyi? You should ask
your father what it is like, if you have not."

Immediately, Cheliyi's gaze narrows. Softly, with an undercurrent of steel, "Am very awares, of how
the Hives are like. I..." she trails off, her right hand twitching as it brushes against a radiant
chalice. "I see," the mugwump finishes, expression darkening. Glittering mists begin to writhe and
stretch from her skin, not unlike morning frost. Then, she closes her eyes, and the chill slips away
like water down a stream.

Cheliyi exhales slowly, allowing a long fluid breath to creep from her lungs.

Looking up to the kephera with a determined set of her jaw, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity
says, "They are wrong. They always are. So why are you still believing what they say?"

Studying Cheliyi's reaction with a remote air, Avaris locks his fingers together
beneath the thick layers of his overlapping wings, impassive. "Because without that, I am less than
nothing, Cheliyi. At least as I am, I can serve a purpose, albeit poorly." Extracting his lower
right hand, he holds it out in a forestalling gesture, saying, "You need not grow needlessly
frustrated, Cheliyi. I am content in trying to serve my Lady. I will not take kindly to any who seek
to dissuade me from that course."

Exasperated, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "You are -not- nothing without that
purpose. You are -Avaris-. It is not your faith I am worrying about, or your ability to perform in
combats or in defense of Celest. I am worried about -you-. -Your- wellbeing."

The sun reaches the zenith of the firmament, pausing in his quest to allow the land to bask in his
shining golden rays.

Staring at Cheliyi as if she has sprouted multiple heads, all of which have begun
babbling in different, alien tongues, Avaris is a while in responding. When he does so, it is
slowly, deliberately. "I am fine. I am always, in the end, fine. You do not need to worry about me.
Nobody does."

You think to yourself: "Being Avaris does not preclude being nothing."

Throwing her hands in the air, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity exclaims, "Of course we don't
-need- to. But we do -anyways- because we WANT to! We WANT to care about you! We WANT to know you're
okay! Being fine does -not- mean being happy!"

Striding forward to poke him firmly in the abdomen, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "You
are -Avaris-. A WHOLE PERSON. You exist, don't you? I'm POKING you, -right nows! You can think,
feel, taste, smell! That is not -nothing-."

Utterly bemused, Avaris frowns down at Cheliyi, antennae curved in steep, twisting
arcs. The flat, unyielding chitin of his abdomen seems entirely unaffected by the prodding finger,
though he comments in a calm, cool voice, "Calm yourself, Cheliyi, and desist from touching me in
such a manner. I do not welcome it."

Frustrated, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Exactly! You felt a thing, and did not like
it! That is a thing a -person- does. So stop pretending you are not one for some purpose shoved onto
you by people who just wanted to crush you!"

Cheliyi pulls back, staring up at you with a narrowed gaze.

As unmoved by Cheliyi's stare as he was by Cheliyi's finger, Avaris returns the
look with unreadable orbs of subdued blue, the immobile, inexpressive eyes offering no hint as to
his reaction. "I have told you already that I am content in trying to serve my Lady. Why do you
persist in claiming that I am not?"

A flurry of emotions flit across Cheliyi's face, passing by so quickly that they almost seem
unrecognizable. Silence hangs in the air for a long moment, and by the end of it all, the mugwump
just looks tired. Softly, she mutters, "Because you're not listening." She says nothing more,
sitting down in the grass, turning away from you to stare at the pond.

With another sigh, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Well, are just gonna stand theres?
Is a nicely evening to watch the waters and the sky."

Studying Cheliyi for a few steady intakes of breath, Avaris dips his head in a nod
that is stiff with formality, only to pause as Cheliyi's words interrupt him. Caught in an awkward
interim between an apparent attempted departure and the invitation, the kephera stands there in
awkward silence for a long, painful moment. "Ah. I do not think my remaining would be wise. You are
already very angry with me."

Cheliyi turns back to stare up at you. "... Mm, can promise, will be angry for the rest of the
night. But, does not mean I do not want to sit with yous. Besides, you were here first. Is rudely of
me to uproot you." She stands up with a hum, dusting off her mantle. "I can goes, if you wants."

Simply, Slakened Cheliyi, Novitiate of Purity says, "Being angry does not mean I will yell at you,
or try to make you feel bad. Is just how I feel. Will be fine."

With a warding gesture of an upraised hand, Avaris gives his sharp chin a small
shake, negating the offer. "I do not. I shall leave. I have no desire to further blacken your mood."
Dipping his head in a curt nod, he says, "Nonetheless. I will not press upon a wound. Enjoy your
evening, Blessed Cheliyi. My apologies for upsetting you once more." With this, he turns upon his
bladed heel, and departs, his gait stiff.

((Flies out over the Inner Sea.))

"Your trial of Fortitude is no more, Avaris," a calm, feminine voice laces through the aether. "You
need not insist on solitude, if you do not wish it."

His great bulk suspended in the air by virtue of the steady, powerful beating of
his six wings, Avaris elects not to attempt an aerial bow, and instead opts for a deep inclination
of his head. "I know, my Lady. I choose it because I seem to anger others by mere proximity, these
days. Simpler, and cleaner, to remove myself from the situation."

Pulsing with a faint, twinkling light, a calm, feminine voice continues in Her soft cadence, "And
what of your emotions, then? When you are thus alone, and apart."

Midnight shadows coalesce around a new day, and Mother Night embraces the land in utter darkness.
It is now the 3rd of Estar, 594 years after the Coming of Estarra.

The quiet that Avaris falls into at the question is one of careful deliberation,
his manner growing guarded, though not cool or remote. With great care, he says, "That is of no
consequence, my Lady. I am ever fine, in the end."

"I see." The answer is faint as a whisper on a soothing wind, considering, before the Goddess
replies, "And how would you accept such a reply from Me, Avaris, had I spoken such to you?"

Though he does not possess the capacity, there is the distinct impression of lips
tightening to Avaris at this. Eventually, in a neutral, even manner, he replies, "Respectfully, my
Lady, I am not You. Those are two very different scenarios."

Like a gentle sigh drifting past you, the soft voice whispers, "That may be so. And yet, there are
similarities worth exploring, are there not? Between the emotional state of mortals and Divine. If
you believe Me deserving of small mercies, then do not deny yourself them either."

The immense span of his wings disturbing the air with a sound like the repeated
snapping of great canvas sails, Avaris does not reply immediately, staring out across the seas
below. In a polite, calm resonance, he says, "The Lady Vaevaya wished for me to tell You that she is
behaving herself, and learning of Wisdom."

There is a subtle shift to the cadence of the Goddess's voice, a quiet curiosity and interest, as
She asks, "Did you enjoy the young one's company, then? There is much enthusiasm in a spirit so
new."

A peculiar medley of affirmation, disquiet and warmth thrums through the chorus of
Avaris's voice as he tilts his head aside in a brief gesture. "I did. She is a very happy being, and
revels in existing. It is heartening to bear witness to - I am not good with such entities, however.
She is much like a child."

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you ask, "Will You speak to her on Wisdom, perhaps? Or send
someone else to do so?"

A pulse of soft approval suffuses your surroundings with immaculate light, twinkling with something
akin to satisfaction. "That is the joy of the young," the Goddess replies, with a wistful air. "They
are only beginning their journey on the path of Wisdom, and in Life. There is an innocence that is
difficult to recapture. I find, the longer My time stretches in the Basin of Life, the easier it is
to forget such times, and the simple joys that come with them." Then a brief pause settles in the
air, before the voice finishes, "I am pleased you were able to experience such, for it is a rare
pleasure to know a soul so new."

The light within Avaris's wings, of gently glowing feathers and radiant markings
alike, swells as the sense of gentle approval passes over him. "I am thankful to have had the
opportunity, my Lady. I will cherish the memory of our encounter as the gift it is." He pauses, tone
softening as he says, "I am glad that You have her around, in truth. You seem happier with children.
Perhaps You find it easier to remember the simple joys, when they are around?"

A misty expanse settles as the Goddess considers your assessment, before Her resonant and clear
reply answers: "Yes. I believe there is truth in such a statement. Many Elders though little of the
half-formed, viewing them as no more than castoffs abandoned by Dynara. In My time with them,
however, I knew them to be otherwise -- young spirits, aching to know the Song of Creation. I gained
such fondness of them, even as My Cousins interpreted such as weakness in Me." A melodic ripple of
laughter, soft as a gentle rain, then says, "Perhaps it is merely easier to calm the hearts of the
young, for they are simpler in their thoughts and actions. As We age, We become more complex, and
often are unable to know what healing We require."

Visibly heartened by the presences of the mists and the sound of his Goddess'
musical laughter, Avaris's eyes shine with a quiet, fierce joy that glitters within the azure orbs
like roiling waves of stars. "You have ever been kind, and Wise. I wish that Your Cousins had
followed Your example, rather than judging You as They did, but I am certain that the half-formed
were most grateful for Your love and care, my Lady." He grows quiet for a span, the silence kept at
bay by the constant, steady beating of his wings. "My Lady? Will You promise not to...Ah. Depart,
abruptly, if I ask a question of You?"

Avaris amends, "Two questions, I suppose."

The drifting mist swirls about you with a quiet curiosity, motes of starlight twirling upon the
currents of fog before the Goddess merely says, "Very well."

Taken aback, it is a moment before Avaris overcomes his surprise at the indulgence
to ask, in as cautious and gentle a manner as he possibly can, "What healing do You require?"

The misty expanse does not dissipate, but thickens, glimmering with starlight that is threaded now
with a flicker of evanescent shadow -- an uncertainty, then an almost suffocating tension that is
pushed through, then released in a soothing wind that scatters the light in all directions. "All
healers are poor at assessing their own injuries," the Goddess says at last. "There is a reason We
Hamadhi tended one another's wounds, and not Our own."

The gentle breeze now sweeps up around you, motes of starlight whirling about you as the soft,
feminine voice asks, "Do I appear to be wounded, My Avaris?"

The vast span of Avaris's wings rise and fall in relentless, measured motions,
though even their colossal efforts can do nothing to thin the mists that deepen about him. The
tension is borne in stoic silence, the sole indication that the armoured figure even detects it
lying in the tautening of his plated shoulders, and the slight downward tilt of his chin. The gold,
lustrous surface of his chitin glittering with the reflected light of the stars that are sewn
throughout the obfuscating mists, the Paladin answers in a very quiet voice, limned with sorrow,
yearning and steeled by determination. "Yes. Badly."

Avaris lifts a hand, which begins to curl into a fist - Only to cease midway, and
relax, instead forming an open palm of invitation. "I know I am not a healer, my Lady, but...I will
try. However I can."

The dense thicket of mist churns in a heavy silence, its fog impenetrable even as starry motes dance
across it to flicker with twinkling glimpses of cold, brilliant light. "I have endured much, My
Avaris. I have survived the worst that the Fates could fathom for Me, and wandered the Void for
millenia. Even so, I am not like Li-varili. I have been bent, but not broken."

A flicker of uncertainty, of distress passes across Avaris , his hand turning out
in a pleading gesture. "I know, my Lady - I know. I do. That is not what I meant to imply. I am
sorry. I just." The bladed knuckles of his fingers glint in the cold light as he curls them into a
fist that quivers faintly with frustration, an inability to correctly articulate. "I want to ease
Your pains. I want to make it so that You are happy, more often than not. That You are not bent -
That You can lean on me, instead."

Resolute, quiet, and clear, the Goddess whispers, "Do not pity Me, for My pain has been a great
teacher. An unkind one, yes, and yet one that has allowed Me to gain great Wisdom. I have seen
through false trust and betrayal, and in the face of adversity, stood true in the face of much
doubt. In this, I have much to gain strength from." The sparkling veil of white shimmers,
considering, before replying, "My happiness is ultimately up to Me, My Avaris. You may find yourself
able to alleviate My burdens, from time to time, but do not seek to take on the thousands of years
that form an Elder Goddess and reweave them. For that is a path that will give you much
unhappiness."

Shoulders sagging, Avaris breathes out a wearied sigh as he lifts his hand to place
it across his eyes, the curved edges of his crest shining in the starlit mist. "I...I don't ~pity~
You. I just-" With a frustrated hiss out air venting from the seams of his visored face, he lets his
arm drop to his side. "I do not care if I am unhappy, so long as You are. I will obey You in near
anything, but I will not be dissuaded from this, so long as You can suffer my presence."

Avaris waves his hand aside in a weak, half-hearted gesture. "You were bemused,
earlier. Will You tell me what disturbed You?"

"You place great worth on My happiness, to weigh your own as so insignificant in its shadow." It is
a statement, a measured assessment made, considered, and ultimately dismissed even as an unfinished
thought lingers in its after-echo, unspoken. "Much has occupied Me this month. Which matter in
particular do you refer to?"

You think to yourself: Resigned, but not daunted. He cannot begrudge Her for reacting so, for
viewing him as such. Would he not feel the same if an ant swore to take up his burdens upon its tiny
back? How must he seem to Her? "Pathetic."

"You inflict much cruelty in your thoughts, Avaris," is Her calm, chastising rebuke. "Inflicting
wounds upon yourself in this manner will not grant Me the happiness you prize so highly."

((Spam from the coral thing, I think? Very spammy, either way.))

Motes of starlight whirl about you as a soft, feminine voice echoes, "Let Us speak elsewhere."

Avaris dips his head in a small affirmation. "Nothing higher, in my eyes." His
voice is neutral, if tinged with a flat tone, his bladed talons curling inwards as he allows his
feet to hang loose beneath him. Despite the even nature of the reproach, he flinches, bowing his
head in contrition. "I will try to be quieter in my thoughts, my Lady. I am sorry." Swiftly, he
addresses the earlier topic, plunging onwards with, "I am not certain how to describe it. I saw a
veiled person before a star lotus, and there was much of shadow about them."

You nod your head emphatically.

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you ask, "Where, my Lady?"

The Grotto of the White.
Captured rays of light reflect off the sparkling waters of the Grotto of the White, enhanced by the
glittering limestone that surrounds the narrow, underwater cave. Reminiscent of starlight, these
twinkling motes bob and twirl against the surface of the walls, then dance across the still pool
that fills most of this cavern, winking in and out to allow only brief glimpses of this mystical,
sacred place. As if seeking to further obscure the crystalline waters, a rolling blanket of mist
shrouds much of the pool from view to linger here in a dewy, glistening mantle of white. Murmurs of
distant feminine voices echo here, muted by the sound of trickling water; though their cadence is
soothing, it leaves a disquieting sense of being watched and observed as if by the waters
themselves. Boundlessly flowing with light, a luminous pool of healing waters radiates a celestial
glow here.
You see a single exit leading north.
You are transported by the power of the Divine.

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "If it pleases you."

Landing upon the ground with a weighty thump, Avaris furls his wings and falls to a
knee in one motion, though he does not place his hands upon his heart, as is custom. Instead, he
braces his right forearms across his upraised knee, and holds the left pair close to his side.
"Whatever You desire."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "I would rather your thoughts merely be kinder, rather than silent."

There is a distinct pause before Avaris jerks his head down in a small motion that
is not quite a nod of acquiescence.

The captured rays of starlight that filter through the grotto glimmer with an enchanting light
across the luminous pool as your question is received, reflecting the very image you describe: a
veiled woman communing with the star lotus within the Fulcrux of the Empyreal, a thick mist
enfolding her in a suffocating white light.

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "You speak of the child of shadows called Illyria."

You think to yourself: A flat, bleak displeasure, cold and carefully contained.

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "You know of her, then." It is again a mere statement of fact, an
acceptance that this is so. "Tell Me of your relationship with one another."

Regarding the image for a moment with so little reaction that even Avaris's
antennae do not so much as twitch, he nods, not bothering to add redundant confirmation to the
statement. "She is dangerous. I believe that I asked You to warn the others of her before I
departed." A slight shift of a spiked shoulder. In a careful, almost wary manner, he says, "She was
the one that spent time with me when I was...Away. She is very devoted to her Lord."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "What drew you to seek her company?"

The focus of Avaris's eyes - Natural and light-forged both - slowly slides aside
from the pool, his head turning to angle towards the side. The silence stretches on until it grows
distinctly uncomfortable as he continues to stare aside, and it is with evident unwillingness that
he admits, "I do not know if it would be good to say."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "And yet I answered your questions without evasion."

Seemingly undaunted by the silence, however, the luminous pool clears once more like glass,
revealing the hazy image of the woman beseeching the fog-wreathed Fulcrux, her expression
impassioned, even as her words are drowned out by mist.

Avaris's antennae flick down in quiet displeasure, which he keeps carefully
separated from his voice. "Respectfully, my Lady, that is something of an extreme rarity. But I will
not be petty." Jerking a shoulder up in a stiff shrug, he ignores the fuzzed image in a steadfast,
deliverate manner, his tone is a peculiar blend of reluctant and faintly defiant as he says, "She
felt soothing. She was quiet, and gentle, and..." He falters for a span, then forges onward, "She
reminded me of You."

The glittering limestone of the cavern flickers with eerie brilliance, the bobbing lights that
surround and illuminate the grotto burying themselves in the tendril of mist to shroud their radiant
hearts from view. A strange tension fills the Grotto of the White before at last, the mists of the
luminous pool state, "I see. A follower of the Silent would not be My first choice for such a
doppelganger."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "Nor would she be much flattered by the comparison, for I know well
her barbed thoughts during your trial of Fortitude. She sought to ask Me the reasons for My
cruelty."

Bending beneath the odd, tautening weight that pervades the Grotto, Avaris's
forearms press hard against the dense plating of his upraised knee as he stares stonily aside,
antennae flat and sharp as blades. "I told her that You were not cruel. I told her that I was the
cruel one. She did not listen." He wrestles with something for a brief time, flickers of faint red
sparking to life momentarily in his wings, before dying out. "I did not say she was Your
doppelganger. She was the closest thing that felt like You, when all was darkness. I know that You
are not like her, or any of His."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "She seemed absurdly confident in Her understanding of you,
bordering on arrogantly so."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "How much worth should I give the words of a child of shadows, when
speaking of one of Mine who walks in the Light?"

The sanguine plane of Avaris's larger left antennae shifts, bowing in the middle as
he cants his head aside, frowning still. "What makes You say so, Lady? As to that, I do not know - I
cannot tell You how to judge anything. I assume the question is rhetorical."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "She made claims as to how I view Mine, and how you view your
service unto Me. I will not repeat them, for they are no affairs of hers, nor is she as omniscient
as she believes herself to be."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "In Our darkest hours, We cling to what little light We can salvage
in the shadows. I would not hold thoughts you reached for in the depths of your despair as the truth
of your Devotion."

Faintly perplexed, Avaris's frown grows more twisted, if not less severe, as he
puzzles over the statement, but chooses not to pursue it. Instead, the intensity of his averted gaze
slackens as his head lowers, turning down to stare at the large talons that arc out from his foot.
"You are ever forgiving me, Lady. I am sorry for failing, in...In that. You deserved better."

The sun reaches the zenith of the firmament, pausing in his quest to allow the land to bask in his
shining golden rays.

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "You did not fail Me."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "Have I indicated such displeasure?"

Evenly, Avaris replies, "I did not say I failed You." To the question, he utters a
low, vibrating sound, shoulders shifting in a gesture that is not quite a fully realised shrug.
"Indicated and felt are two very different things with You, I am learning. I do not know how You
feel, the vast majority of the time."

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "Then it is all the more perplexing that you are so focused upon My
happiness, considering you may not even recognize it when it appears."

Faintly stung, Avaris draws back a shade, answering, "I am trying to learn. You
make it surpassingly difficult."

The bobbing lights in the grotto drift in languid arcs, dimming as they dance in the perpetual
luminescence of the healing waters.

Misty white light drifts across the surface of a luminous pool as a calm, feminine voice ripples
forth from the mystical waters, "It is not My intention."

With a whisper of a sigh, Avaris says, "And it is not my intention to hurt or drive
You away, or bewilder, or whatever such things. Yet here we are, Lady."

The mists that coil over the luminous pool froth and swirl in a luminous arc, dissipating to reveal
the figure of Lantra, the Empyreal at their centre, Her expression inscrutable behind Her starlit
veil.

Studiously, Avaris keeps his gaze pointed at his foot, while the wing-eyes
pointedly keep their attention averted from Lantra in turn.

Heeding your sigh with the slightest turn of Her head, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "There is much in
intention that is lost, once it bears fruit in action."

Without rancour or humour, Avaris says, "That is one piece of Wisdom I have a firm
grasp on, I think. I have experienced it enough to recognise the truth of it, at least."

Regarding the cool distance inherent in your expression, Lantra places Her hands before Herself in
silence, Her veil flickering in the dim lights of the cavern. "There were many who thought Me cold,"
She says suddenly, without preamble, "after Rhapsody's death."

Wrongfooted by this abrupt, unexpected shift, Avaris's hold upon the chill glow of
his wing-borne eyes slips sufficiently that several flick to Lantra in something similar to alarm,
before they are brought to heel once more and have their gaze shoved elsewhere. The kneeling kephera
says nothing for a time as he carefully gathers his hands together against the plates of his
abdomen, fingers locking together in a layered bulwark of gold. Eventually, in a small voice,
sorrowful and gentle as falling rain, he says, "I know. I am not one of them."

As the mists that wreathe the cavern dance around Her form, as if shrouding Her anew, Lantra says,
"I do not know if My actions in those years were right, but they were necessary, if I was to
maintain My use on the healing mounds of Ethereal." She turns to face you, a single palm upturned,
and within it a single mote of bright light emanates a core of radiant, simmering light. Then
without warning, the coalescing light is snuffed out in Her grip, dimming to a low, flickering
ember. "I learned how to subdue the parts of Myself that would make Me useless. I buried the edges
that were too sharp, the anger and sorrow that threatened to unsteady My hands in their healing
arts." She hesitates, glancing at the dying light that shines weakly in Her hands. "In the Void, the
suppression was a balm, as well. A quelling of the fear. The panic, and the terror." Almost
tenderly, the mists coil around the Goddess, shrouding what little Her veil might have allowed
visible from view as She says, "It is a difficult to unlearn, after so long."

The words resonant and clear, even as they are as silent as a whisper, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "I
do feel, however. No matter how deeply that feeling is buried."

Throughout, Avaris does what he can to provide as much privacy for Lantra as he
can, so that She does not feel the weight of eyes pressing upon a vulnerable moment. Still, for all
he strives for such, there is a limit to what can be made to escape the gaze of so very many eyes,
no matter how much he wishes to. The motion of Lantra's hand, the core of effulgent light that ebbs
and flickers and the coiling mists alike are captured in the periphery of his vision, even as he
brings his antennae down to cover his eyes like blindfolds woven of blood. Any lingering traces of
tension, of frustration drain from him like sour fluids from an infected wound, leaving him
enveloped in a shroud of mournful silence, his desire to do something as palpable and suffocating
upon him as his knowledge of its futility. "I have never thought You unfeeling, Lady. Remote,
obfuscated by mist and careful evasion - Yes." His upper right hand shifts, lowering so that its
back is placed upon the waters, his golden palm open, though he does not reach out. "I know armour
when I see it, no matter the shape. I know You bleed still within it, Lady."

"As do We all, I suppose," Lantra says at length, a peculiar distance in Her words. "You speak of
being a blunt object, prone to accidental harm. Not all harm is caused by sharp edges. Silence, or
distance, can be a cruel blade, too - particularly when wielded by an oblivious hand." Misty veils
gather around the Goddess's form, twinkling and ephemeral in their cosmic radiance, as She says, "I
know you are merely trying to serve Me in the way your Devotion leads you. You ask Me questions I do
not always have answers for. To serve Me is not merely to make Me happy, or to tend to My personal
welfare. If it were so, I fear the Order's purpose would not only be limited, but a difficult one to
uphold. I do not hold those who serve Me to such." There is a pause, like the soft intake of breath
before a heavy sigh. "I did not evade you this time. Did you gain the Wisdom you sought?"

The words of the Goddess flow around Avaris like a gentle tide against a spire of
rock, the steady motion of the currents wearing away at the foundations, smoothing the jagged
surface grain by grain. Gradually, he lowers his head until the useless blades of his crest sit atop
his knee, his antennae falling limp on either side of his face so that they obscure much of the
Grotto's contents but that which is directly below him. The nature of the kephera's downcast gaze is
a numbed one, resigned as he stares fixedly at the cruelly glinting blade of his wickedly curved
foretalon, a detached regard that persists even as the Divine asks Her question. "I do not know if
the Wisdom I am seeking is that which I should be searching for. Thank You for being candid with me.
I know that speaking so is not easy, and I appreciate it. You suffer much, for me." The great
expanse of his chest deflates like a punctured lung as he breathes out a low sigh, heavy with
weariness. "Lady. Would You rather I just be like the others that serve You, and put aside my futile
insistence on making You happy? I think that I am achieving the opposite, by even trying."

A hushed silence descends as Lantra considers your words, focused upon your downcast gaze and bowed
head. "It is your Wisdom to seek," the Goddess says at last. "I can only give the answers I knowm
such as they are. Whether or not they are the ones you desire, or that will serve you better, only
the Fates can say. Wisdom is not in itself knowledge -- it is the understanding of it, and knowing
how to wield it properly. In this, what questions you ask in its pursuit are irrelevant, compared to
what you do with the answers you ultimately receive." The kephera's low sigh ripples in the grotto,
a forlorn after-echo resounding as the Empyreal listens to it, quiet and considering. "My happiness
is My own, Avaris," She says, a strange gentleness in the words. "And yet if you find ways to bring
it forth, I will not stop you. I wish, however, that you not take ownership of all My emotion, and
place the onus of its care upon yourself. For that weight is My own."

A faint light radiates from a mist-wreathed star as Lantra speaks, beautiful in its muted glow upon
Her glistening veil.

The hand that has been at rest upon the pool like a forged mockery of some gaudy
flower lifts to Avaris's head, the fingers arching into quivering claws that hover a hair's breadth
from the side of his face, as if trembling on the cusp of bringing the wicked points to bear upon
his own head - Only to abruptly collapse back down, limp as a lifeless thing. "I don't...I am not
trying to take anything from You. Least of all ownership, of...Of anything." Abruptly, he pushes
himself to his feet, bending at the waist in a rapid, ungainly bow. "This is not going well. I am
sorry. May I be dismissed?"

There is a pained quality to the stillness that answers your request, the sense of many words being
carefully considered, weighed, and pushed aside. Lantra merely bows Her head, saying in a voice so
quiet it is barely audible, save for its resounding echo in the limestone cavern, "If that is what
you wish." The mists that surround Her swirl in upon themselves, engulfing the Goddess in the
starlit expanse of white, until at last She is gone, as if She was never present at all.

For all his daunting stature and warding chitin, the stillness weighs upon Avaris
more than any physical burden could, pressing in through the gaps of his armour like silent blades
of recrimination that cause him to tremble, each shiver almost indiscernible. The last response from
the mist-wreathed Goddess tenses his shoulders, but it seems he is not quite prepared for the
absence left in Her wake. The emptiness strikes him a brutal blow, wresting from him a frustrated,
heartfelt cry of such intensity of emotion that is reverberates about the area like a damning chorus
from on high. His fingers curled into a jagged bludgeon of glinting chitin, he slams it against his
thigh with enough force to send a crack splintering down along the golden plating, though he seems
either not to notice or care when it begins to weep viscous blood.

You think to yourself: "It does not matter what I wish."