Post by Eurydice on May 26, 2007 23:44:33 GMT -5
((Middle-ish of Frost Reach campaign))
It was their second night out from port, and Maura stood on the main deck, gazing at the sky while Asriel, who had been confined to the small rooms below for most of the day, was bounding about the deck with wild abandon, clearly enjoying his new-found freedom. Maura shivered slightly and pulled the cloak closer about her; it wasn't ideal, letting him out to play only at night, but it was the only time when the wolf could explore the deck and work off his cabin fever without worrying about too many crew and passangers being around to object. And Maura didn't mind the cold so terribly.
At the soft tread of footsteps on the deck behind her, Maura turned and saw Rinteras there, bundled in a charcoal grey cloak, black hair blowing gently in the wind. In his hands was a long staff, wrapped in strips of white cloth. He stood beside her, looking up at the stars. "Such a lovely night."
"It is," Maura said with a smile. "I love just standing here, under the stars and the moon, above the water. It's like the world rocking me to sleep." Somewhere on the far end of the deck, there was a muffled crash as Asriel collided with something heavy. She laughed. "Of course, I guess sleep's not for everyone."
Rinteras chuckled. "Take care not to fall asleep up here, my dear. It can get rather cold at night; you wouldn't want to get sick at sea. But I know what you mean." His eyes were still on the clear sky above. "The goddess is beautiful tonight."
Maura watched his face, handsome and serene, bathed in the moonlight. "She is."
They stood there silently for what felt like a long time. Finally, he spoke again, his voice more earnest, gentle. "I wish to apologize to you, Maura. It was not my intention to cause the revelation of your parentage. The entire situation could have been handled better."
She felt herself blushing slightly. "Well," she said after a moment. "Some of them knew already. And I don't think those who just found out would misuse the information."
"But thank you," she added quietly.
"You are quite remarkable." Rintares shook his head and sighed, looking at her appraisingly. "You have a very strong aura of chaos about you. I suppose you get that from Bryant." He turned his gaze back to the moon, pearl-white against the star-studded sky.
Maura nodded. "I only met my mother once." She smiled at the bittersweet memory of the half-crazed, half-dead woman that she'd met at Frost Reach, clutching the empty swaddling clothes as she was tormented by the dark spectre of the Herald of Chaos. "I... don't think she'd like what I've become. If she understood."
He seemed to consider this, turning to look her in the eye again, a few errant strands of black hair falling across his face. "Tell me, Maura Mordrellyn: do you like what you've become?"
It was such an unexpected question. "I think so. I'm not really sure that I've... become anything yet." She laughed. "I think I'm still becoming whatever it is that I'm becoming. But I do like it, yes."
Rinteras gave her an approving nod and a charming smile. "Well. You are rather becoming."
She laughed at that, as did he. "My apologies," he added. "I can be a shameless flirt at times. Don't think anything of it." He studied her again. "In any case, I think you're well on your way to finding great power. Whether that's a good thing or not, well..." He shrugged.
They both fell silent for a moment, accompanied only by the sound of water lapping inconsistently against the side of the ship and of paws intermittently padding up and down along the deck. Finally, Maura spoke up, voicing the question she'd been turning over since before they'd set sail. "Why was it, exactly, that you were able to figure out so quickly about my father? Beyond recognizing the sword, I mean."
He paused before answering, looking thoughtful. "You resemble him. Physically. There's a bit of him in your eyes, around your face. Only a bit."
The corner of her mouth twitched up in a half-smile. "That's a lie. I look like my mother."
"Not a lie!" he insisted. "Believe me, it's subtle."
"Well," she said, biting her lip, "even if that's true, it means you're familiar enough with my father to notice the subtle details."
Rinteras smiled and nodded slightly. "You're absolutely correct, my dear. I knew your father. Spoke to him on many occasions. I know the way his face moves."
Silence again. Maura looked up at the stars and then down at the black water rippling with mirrored moon and starlight. When she did speak, her voice was constrained, nervous, almost formal. "In what context were you speaking with him, if I may ask?"
He sighed. "Your father and I are acquaintences. Through a common... friend? No, that's not the word..." He sighed, chuckled, shook his head. "I suppose there's no point in hiding it from you--"
"Her?" Maura asked, quietly.
He smiled, that same charming smile. "She was my teacher." He turned to look at Maura fully now. "My name is not Rinteras of Arun, my dear. I am not a humble scribe--"
"I did kinda guess that last," Maura chuckled.
"--and the goddess I serve is not Ermayaniya." He winked. "Although she is a lovely goddess in her own right."
The man who was not Rinteras of Arun took the staff and tapped it twice, lightly on the deck, and the white strips fell away gently, naturally, as if it were their very function to unravel gracefully, to reveal a shining, silver staff which seemed to soak up the moonlight, glowing softly, with some sort of crystal at the top.
Maura gasped breathlessly. "Beautiful..."
He was changing as well, his hair to blue, eyes to green, cloak to midnight blue with silver runes. And somehow, none of these things looked the least bit incongruous or unattractive on him. "I am Kuntaire Dest, the Timewalker, Sorcerer of Chaos, Hunter of Water Witches, and former student of Lady Chaos." He bowed low to her. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Maura Mordrellyn."
"Time-walker?" she whispered. "Dark fire..."
"Well." He laughed shortly. "More like jumping. Blindly. But it sounds so much more impressive when I say 'timewalker.'" He shrugged dismissively.
Still awestruck, Maura half-laughed, staring in wonder. "Ranial said something about Aethmyr and chronomancy, but she never really told me much." Aside from the part where I should avoid chronomancy at all costs, she did not add.
"Yes, well." Kuntaire smiled wryly. "He is better at it than I."
"But it..." She thought of the crazed sorcerer destroying Thanasis, his relentless anger, and Cyrima's fear that he might turn on her next. "...It damaged him. Didn't it?"
Kuntaire cleared his throat, and Maura thought she caught a flash of thought or memory flitting across his face, gone as quickly as it appeared. "It is a dangerous art. The little I know takes a toll on me as well; I only practice it out of necessity. And rarely, at that."
"What is it doing to him?"
He shrugged again. "The effects are wildly inconsistent across practitioners, but the common side-effect is madness. As I understand it, he's going a bit crazy. But I haven't seen him in a long time; I don't know the extent of his condition."
Maura thought back to what Ranial had said of 'Uncle Aethmyr' and his condition as of late, to the times when he was himself and to those times when he lost himself in dreams of the past. "It varies, from what I've heard." She focused on Kuntaire, wondering if it was improper to ask but asking anyway. "And how has it taken its toll on you?"
Clearing his throat, he sat down on a crate, took off his glasses and seemed to study them. Or perhaps he was looking at the deck. Perhaps he was looking at nothing at all. He cleared his throat again. "Nightmares." After a moment, he looked up at her and gestured for her to come closer; she hesitated only slightly before going to kneel on the deck beside him. With a smile, Kuntaire placed the glasses on her face. "These are fake." He chuckled. "You look rather studious!"
Maura giggled, touching the glasses, waving a hand in front of her eyes experimentally. "Don't think I could imagine being successfully studious." She peered up him, piercing green eyes set in handsome face below that unnaturally natural brush of blue hair.
He smiled, his eyes glinting with humor. "Neither could I. But glasses do the trick. Appearances are important. Let that be my first lesson to you, Maura Mordrellyn: Sometimes, sorcery isn't needed. A good prop can accomplish ten times as much as the most powerful of spells."
She nodded, took off the glasses, and handed them back to him. "Have you asked for helping combating the nightmares magically?"
Kuntaire turned again to the pale glow of the moon above. "I have asked the Goddess, of course. But, of course, she tells me that it is just exchange for the privilege of navigating the sands of time." He smiled pleasantly, the smile of one comfortably resigned to an uncomfortable fate. "Otherwise, I often find myself traveling alone, so there aren't many people to ask."
Smiling shyly, hopefully, Maura asked, "I know I'm still just learning about dreamwalking and all, but is it anything I could help with?"
"Hmm. Well, perhaps..." He surveyed her appraisingly again, with the hint of a smile, and considered for a moment. "Perhaps we shall make it a special project, you and I. Investigate my nightmares, and see if we can do something about them."
Maura grinned, looking a little relieved. Her recent encounter with Ranial had reminded her just how much she missed having someone there to train with her, tell her when she was doing something well or even berate her for failures. "I haven't had proper practice in a while. I imagine it would do me good as well."
Kuntaire regarded her frankly. "I warn you. I have no wish to take you on as an apprentice. I am but a student myself, and will always continue to be. But perhaps we will learn together."
In his voice and in his face, she could sense another flicker of memories, wistful and ephemeral, and Maura wondered how Kuntaire's memories of Angelina as a teacher compared to those of her other students that she'd met. She wondered if Kuntaire had the same kind of frightening devotion to and obsession with Angelina that she'd seen in Bryant and Aethmyr. "I know," she said quickly. "But it's been a few months since I've actually had someone like a mentor overseeing practice, even just guiding me, if not actually teaching me."
He flashed her another gently charming smile. "Excellent. Well, then..." He tapped the staff on the deck again, and in a smooth, fluid rush of illusion, his appearance converted to that of the humble scribe. With a small flourish, like a magician putting the final touch on an elaborate legerdemain, he swept the glasses back onto his face. "First order of business," he said, looking down. "Would you help me wrap this staff back up? I still haven't devised a spell to do it all at once."
With a half-hearted smile, Maura bent to pick up the white strips and slowly tangle them about the shining silver staff. Asriel, sensing that something on the ship was getting more attention than he was, wandered over to join them, receive a head scratch from Rinteras, humble scribe of Arun, and nip at the white tatters of cloth, fluttering like clouds, thin as dreams, in the cool sea breeze.
It was their second night out from port, and Maura stood on the main deck, gazing at the sky while Asriel, who had been confined to the small rooms below for most of the day, was bounding about the deck with wild abandon, clearly enjoying his new-found freedom. Maura shivered slightly and pulled the cloak closer about her; it wasn't ideal, letting him out to play only at night, but it was the only time when the wolf could explore the deck and work off his cabin fever without worrying about too many crew and passangers being around to object. And Maura didn't mind the cold so terribly.
At the soft tread of footsteps on the deck behind her, Maura turned and saw Rinteras there, bundled in a charcoal grey cloak, black hair blowing gently in the wind. In his hands was a long staff, wrapped in strips of white cloth. He stood beside her, looking up at the stars. "Such a lovely night."
"It is," Maura said with a smile. "I love just standing here, under the stars and the moon, above the water. It's like the world rocking me to sleep." Somewhere on the far end of the deck, there was a muffled crash as Asriel collided with something heavy. She laughed. "Of course, I guess sleep's not for everyone."
Rinteras chuckled. "Take care not to fall asleep up here, my dear. It can get rather cold at night; you wouldn't want to get sick at sea. But I know what you mean." His eyes were still on the clear sky above. "The goddess is beautiful tonight."
Maura watched his face, handsome and serene, bathed in the moonlight. "She is."
They stood there silently for what felt like a long time. Finally, he spoke again, his voice more earnest, gentle. "I wish to apologize to you, Maura. It was not my intention to cause the revelation of your parentage. The entire situation could have been handled better."
She felt herself blushing slightly. "Well," she said after a moment. "Some of them knew already. And I don't think those who just found out would misuse the information."
"But thank you," she added quietly.
"You are quite remarkable." Rintares shook his head and sighed, looking at her appraisingly. "You have a very strong aura of chaos about you. I suppose you get that from Bryant." He turned his gaze back to the moon, pearl-white against the star-studded sky.
Maura nodded. "I only met my mother once." She smiled at the bittersweet memory of the half-crazed, half-dead woman that she'd met at Frost Reach, clutching the empty swaddling clothes as she was tormented by the dark spectre of the Herald of Chaos. "I... don't think she'd like what I've become. If she understood."
He seemed to consider this, turning to look her in the eye again, a few errant strands of black hair falling across his face. "Tell me, Maura Mordrellyn: do you like what you've become?"
It was such an unexpected question. "I think so. I'm not really sure that I've... become anything yet." She laughed. "I think I'm still becoming whatever it is that I'm becoming. But I do like it, yes."
Rinteras gave her an approving nod and a charming smile. "Well. You are rather becoming."
She laughed at that, as did he. "My apologies," he added. "I can be a shameless flirt at times. Don't think anything of it." He studied her again. "In any case, I think you're well on your way to finding great power. Whether that's a good thing or not, well..." He shrugged.
They both fell silent for a moment, accompanied only by the sound of water lapping inconsistently against the side of the ship and of paws intermittently padding up and down along the deck. Finally, Maura spoke up, voicing the question she'd been turning over since before they'd set sail. "Why was it, exactly, that you were able to figure out so quickly about my father? Beyond recognizing the sword, I mean."
He paused before answering, looking thoughtful. "You resemble him. Physically. There's a bit of him in your eyes, around your face. Only a bit."
The corner of her mouth twitched up in a half-smile. "That's a lie. I look like my mother."
"Not a lie!" he insisted. "Believe me, it's subtle."
"Well," she said, biting her lip, "even if that's true, it means you're familiar enough with my father to notice the subtle details."
Rinteras smiled and nodded slightly. "You're absolutely correct, my dear. I knew your father. Spoke to him on many occasions. I know the way his face moves."
Silence again. Maura looked up at the stars and then down at the black water rippling with mirrored moon and starlight. When she did speak, her voice was constrained, nervous, almost formal. "In what context were you speaking with him, if I may ask?"
He sighed. "Your father and I are acquaintences. Through a common... friend? No, that's not the word..." He sighed, chuckled, shook his head. "I suppose there's no point in hiding it from you--"
"Her?" Maura asked, quietly.
He smiled, that same charming smile. "She was my teacher." He turned to look at Maura fully now. "My name is not Rinteras of Arun, my dear. I am not a humble scribe--"
"I did kinda guess that last," Maura chuckled.
"--and the goddess I serve is not Ermayaniya." He winked. "Although she is a lovely goddess in her own right."
The man who was not Rinteras of Arun took the staff and tapped it twice, lightly on the deck, and the white strips fell away gently, naturally, as if it were their very function to unravel gracefully, to reveal a shining, silver staff which seemed to soak up the moonlight, glowing softly, with some sort of crystal at the top.
Maura gasped breathlessly. "Beautiful..."
He was changing as well, his hair to blue, eyes to green, cloak to midnight blue with silver runes. And somehow, none of these things looked the least bit incongruous or unattractive on him. "I am Kuntaire Dest, the Timewalker, Sorcerer of Chaos, Hunter of Water Witches, and former student of Lady Chaos." He bowed low to her. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Maura Mordrellyn."
"Time-walker?" she whispered. "Dark fire..."
"Well." He laughed shortly. "More like jumping. Blindly. But it sounds so much more impressive when I say 'timewalker.'" He shrugged dismissively.
Still awestruck, Maura half-laughed, staring in wonder. "Ranial said something about Aethmyr and chronomancy, but she never really told me much." Aside from the part where I should avoid chronomancy at all costs, she did not add.
"Yes, well." Kuntaire smiled wryly. "He is better at it than I."
"But it..." She thought of the crazed sorcerer destroying Thanasis, his relentless anger, and Cyrima's fear that he might turn on her next. "...It damaged him. Didn't it?"
Kuntaire cleared his throat, and Maura thought she caught a flash of thought or memory flitting across his face, gone as quickly as it appeared. "It is a dangerous art. The little I know takes a toll on me as well; I only practice it out of necessity. And rarely, at that."
"What is it doing to him?"
He shrugged again. "The effects are wildly inconsistent across practitioners, but the common side-effect is madness. As I understand it, he's going a bit crazy. But I haven't seen him in a long time; I don't know the extent of his condition."
Maura thought back to what Ranial had said of 'Uncle Aethmyr' and his condition as of late, to the times when he was himself and to those times when he lost himself in dreams of the past. "It varies, from what I've heard." She focused on Kuntaire, wondering if it was improper to ask but asking anyway. "And how has it taken its toll on you?"
Clearing his throat, he sat down on a crate, took off his glasses and seemed to study them. Or perhaps he was looking at the deck. Perhaps he was looking at nothing at all. He cleared his throat again. "Nightmares." After a moment, he looked up at her and gestured for her to come closer; she hesitated only slightly before going to kneel on the deck beside him. With a smile, Kuntaire placed the glasses on her face. "These are fake." He chuckled. "You look rather studious!"
Maura giggled, touching the glasses, waving a hand in front of her eyes experimentally. "Don't think I could imagine being successfully studious." She peered up him, piercing green eyes set in handsome face below that unnaturally natural brush of blue hair.
He smiled, his eyes glinting with humor. "Neither could I. But glasses do the trick. Appearances are important. Let that be my first lesson to you, Maura Mordrellyn: Sometimes, sorcery isn't needed. A good prop can accomplish ten times as much as the most powerful of spells."
She nodded, took off the glasses, and handed them back to him. "Have you asked for helping combating the nightmares magically?"
Kuntaire turned again to the pale glow of the moon above. "I have asked the Goddess, of course. But, of course, she tells me that it is just exchange for the privilege of navigating the sands of time." He smiled pleasantly, the smile of one comfortably resigned to an uncomfortable fate. "Otherwise, I often find myself traveling alone, so there aren't many people to ask."
Smiling shyly, hopefully, Maura asked, "I know I'm still just learning about dreamwalking and all, but is it anything I could help with?"
"Hmm. Well, perhaps..." He surveyed her appraisingly again, with the hint of a smile, and considered for a moment. "Perhaps we shall make it a special project, you and I. Investigate my nightmares, and see if we can do something about them."
Maura grinned, looking a little relieved. Her recent encounter with Ranial had reminded her just how much she missed having someone there to train with her, tell her when she was doing something well or even berate her for failures. "I haven't had proper practice in a while. I imagine it would do me good as well."
Kuntaire regarded her frankly. "I warn you. I have no wish to take you on as an apprentice. I am but a student myself, and will always continue to be. But perhaps we will learn together."
In his voice and in his face, she could sense another flicker of memories, wistful and ephemeral, and Maura wondered how Kuntaire's memories of Angelina as a teacher compared to those of her other students that she'd met. She wondered if Kuntaire had the same kind of frightening devotion to and obsession with Angelina that she'd seen in Bryant and Aethmyr. "I know," she said quickly. "But it's been a few months since I've actually had someone like a mentor overseeing practice, even just guiding me, if not actually teaching me."
He flashed her another gently charming smile. "Excellent. Well, then..." He tapped the staff on the deck again, and in a smooth, fluid rush of illusion, his appearance converted to that of the humble scribe. With a small flourish, like a magician putting the final touch on an elaborate legerdemain, he swept the glasses back onto his face. "First order of business," he said, looking down. "Would you help me wrap this staff back up? I still haven't devised a spell to do it all at once."
With a half-hearted smile, Maura bent to pick up the white strips and slowly tangle them about the shining silver staff. Asriel, sensing that something on the ship was getting more attention than he was, wandered over to join them, receive a head scratch from Rinteras, humble scribe of Arun, and nip at the white tatters of cloth, fluttering like clouds, thin as dreams, in the cool sea breeze.
