Coyote Aftermath
Log Info
- Title: Coyote Aftermath
- Emitter: Lheo
- Place: Society for Progressive Arcanists
At least it's stopped raining. True that it's foggy and misty and gray, but the storm from last night has passed, leaving puddles and chill air that clings to the skin in its wake. The Arcanist's Guild, however, is its usual busy and warm self, with all manner of robed folk dotting hallways and common areas, deep in discussion, a book, or a plate of food. There's no sign of Lheo, though, amid the crowds. Asking after him gets a polite, "Lheo? I haven't seen him since yesterday, and he missed this morning's class. He's probably out somewhere."
Zero purses his lips at the information he's been given. Lheo? Miss a class? It's unheard of. The man has such an appetite for knowledge that's as insatiable as Zero's desire for--
"Well, thank you kindly," Zero replies with a polite nod of his head, before wheeling around on his heel in the direction of the student housing. He knows Lheo's here; he remembers the room, in fact. He'd be a poor friend if he didn't remember after all of those times he, Lheo, and Theo had gone investigating in libraries regarding the Felwood troubles.
Which means eventually he finds Lheo's door, and then he knocks on it in his own distinctive manner. Then announces himself with: "Lheo, darling, are you in there?"
There's a rustling from the other side of the door, and a moment later, comes familiar-sounding call. "Come in." There's a rough and raspy, breathy sound it in that doesn't speak to someone feeling like themselves.
Opening the door reveals a darkened - well, cell, really. It's a small room, bed, desk, wardrobe, chair - certainly not something that would be used by anything other than a student. There's not even a mana-light in here. Judging by shadows, and to Zerthos' darkness-loving eyes, Lheo's sitting up in a rumpled bed, his short hair sporting a world-class case of bedhead, having apparently just hastily thrown on whatever shirt was closest to hand. This proves to be a slightly wrinkled, ruffled affair with open laces at the chest, thrown loosely over his frame. "I'm not going to class today, if that's what you're asking."
Zero's red-pink eyes scan Lheo from head-to-toe--what he can see, anyway--followed by the state of the room itself. "I certainly hope not, not with all the wrinkles in that shirt, darling," Zero quips in his own usual wry yet affectionate manner of speaking. "Are you well? Should I fetch you something from the dining hall here?"
He sniffs the air. "Doesn't smell like a hangover at least," he adds analytically. And then he gasps. "No, couldn't possibly--did someone reject your romantic advances? They were never good enough for you, dear! Not one bit." That's a jest but yet firm enough in conviction that it would be the truth if it happened to be the case.
Lheo quickly shakes his head at the idea of something from the dining hall, and stares at his lap, a shudder rippling down his frame at the mention of a romantic encounter. The feeling of wrong hands running down his arms, an iron-on-iron voice - he shudders again, this time convulsively, and shakes his head again. "I don't want anything right now, Zerthos, thanks. I - probably just need to sleep it off." Indeed, the jests do not bring their usual smirk.
Sharp eyes might spot a torn piece of parchment, stuffed roughly into a chest and the lid shut on it, on the far side of the room. He carefully does not look at it, instead asking, "What are you doing here, Zerthos?"
The fact that not even Zero's brand of humor is resulting in a smirk on Lheo's face means that something is deadly wrong indeed. The bard can't help but frown. "I was just coming to check on you," he says. "As a friend ought. After all, your brother's been out of town--and I certainly care too greatly for you to let you go without the glowing ale of friendship just because your brother is off playing hero for his goddess's Temple."
He steps into the room and closes the door behind him, an eye on the parchment that's stuffed into a chest. There's a pause before he asks, gently, like just asking the question might explode in his face, "Did something... go wrong?"
"No. Nothing at all." Lheo 's clearly trying to pull his wits together and regain some semblance of his usual dry wit. "I definitely didn't go out in the rain to work on summoning spells and end up with a demon in my face," he snaps out, rubbing his temples. "How in all nineteen Iron Hells did a first-circle spell get that? I still don't know what I did wrong. There wasn't time to figure it out, and I don't think I could summon a light if I tried, right now."
Zero blinks, and blinks again. It takes him a moment for the words to sink in.
"You what now?" he asks, before shaking his head. "Don't answer that. As we both know, I'm daft at times." Then the mul'niessa man steps further into the room and offers a hand to Lheo as a gesture of comfort. "You must be..."
There's a more than empathetic look in Zero's eyes then. "You must be scared. That's a gentle way to put it, I know. How did you manage to get away?" After all, Lheo is here in one piece--and not elsewhere in multiple pieces. That image, combined with a familiar feeling of dread in Zero's head, makes him flinch.
"Look, don't go telling Theo. He'll have puppies if he ever finds out." Lheo runs a hand through his rumpled hair, clearly trying to pull his wits together and talking fairly fast instead of his usual either quietude or leisurely drawl. "It - I think it was trying to use me to get to him. It said it had been watching me. I - I had a little help," he admits. "There was something else watching, too. Someone else," he corrects. "Zerthos, do you know what an azata is?"
"Despite my general demeanor, I don't go around telling people's secrets that are sworn to me--I will not breathe a word of this to Theo, don't you worry," Zero replies. But he looks terrified at the notion of a demon watching Lheo. Something that's after his friend? Two somethings--
Zero scrunches his face up in thought. "An azata?" he asks, raising a brow. "No, I've never heard of such a thing. What is an azata?" To him it sounds somewhat like... a foreign delicacy more than a being, which he might voice aloud if it would help Lheo any, and he knows his poor friend is in not the mood for such a thing.
"I'm pretty sure they're one of the ranks of angels. A celestial creature, for sure. So, one of them showed up too. Somehow, I ended up in the middle of a fight between an angel and a demon." There is the usual smirk, at long last, despite the exhaustion so cearly settled into the narrow features. "The demon got driven off. I got lucky, Zerthos. Damn lucky. I was powerless in the face of something like that. I'm not enough. Thats' why I don't want Theo to know. I don't want him jumping in. He's going to get himself hurt. I have to deal with this myself."
It takes another moment for Zero to contemplate what's going on. A celestial? Intervening on Lheo's behalf? No, there's more to the story here. But that smirk is such a comfort to see.
"I can certainly understand," Zero says gently, "but... Well, you remember that woman who came looking for me a long while back, yes? And how you and Theo both came to support me? I would be remiss if I at least didn't offer my help to you, Lheo."
His voice and face are both so soft and gentle, something that's quite rare for Zero considering his tendency to be loud as they come. "You don't have to be alone if you don't want to be," he says. "Now, this azata... Did it save you and leave?"
Lheo hasn't looked up, or reached to take the offered hand, still staring at the hands in his lap. He hesitates, sucking in a deep breath. "Thank you, Zerthos. I - don't know what in all nineteen hells is going on yet, though. If I need you, I'll ask, all right?"
He lifts a hand, then, and scrubs at his face. "The azata? I, um. Well, it saw me back to town, because by then I couldn't see a damn thing, and I didn't bring any spells besides the one I was going to practice. Not that it's likely to do me much good."
There is something he isn't saying.
Zero's a patient man. Maybe it's on account of being mul'niessa; they do have centuries to live (so long as one manages to survive the often cut-throat world of Charn's society). The hand is open, just like the offer. But it's the fact that Lheo isn't fully saying something that bothers him.
"This... celestial being. It didn't harm you in any way? I'm not like your brother, Lheo; the only ties to a god I've got is one I'm not exactly on good standing with at the moment. I--find it hard to believe it just saw you back into the city? Did it want anything of you?" Perhaps that's more telling of Zero's own relationship to divinity than anything. In his world, praise and worship was paramount for the Shadow Sorceress. It was an obligation then, a sensible one.
Except now it feels like a noose.
GAME: Lheo rolls bluff: (8)+1: 9
Again, the hesitation. It's clear that Lheo really doesn't want to talk about this, but - perhaps it's the sheer exhaustion, but he doesn't seem to be able to hide anything right now. He buries his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. "I - don't know yet, Zerthos. He just seemed to want to help, and wanted to put me under his protection. Under the circumstances - it seemed like a good idea. Tarna was yelling and screaming at the demon, but - she didn't mind Lhamneris, all right? Tarna'd know if something was wrong." He places a hand on his stomach, close to his navel, almost defensively.
Zero really can't help the frown at seeing Lheo so vulnerable, so exhausted. It's a completely different side of the man he's never seen before. "I'd trust Tarna's senses any day of the week," he says. "Gods know that she has more wit and wisdom in her head than I do. That isn't so hard, though. If she took no issue with the azata, and his... protection..."
He mulls over the word for a moment. Rolling its ghost across his tongue after it's been said. "I know so very little about this sort of thing," he says, "but in stories, there's always celestials--and celestials serve someone of their own accord. Did you hear who this azata happened to serve? If it's one of the gods of light or twilight--which I imagine it is, based on the fact that it was in such opposition to the demon--then you shouldn't have anything to worry about there." Or so he's been told. Part of him isn't sure.
Something in Lheo's entire thin frame relaxes when Zerthos seems to accept the explanation. "I - I don't think he said." The smirk creeps back in, then, tugging at his lips. "He said something about Coyote, though." He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Maybe that means more to you than it does to me. I don't know, Zerthos. I'm even less of a religious sort than you are. I have no idea how Theo ended up serving a goddess at all, much less Serriel."
Zero blinks. The name Coyote registers with him. "Coyote, Coyote," he murmurs. Thinking to himself, ruminating on what he knows of the other gods--
"Ah!" Zero exclaims, looking at Lheo. "Tarien! The elves call him the Singer. I know that there was something about the Temple of Tarien withdrawing support from the Temple of--Eluna." He has to keep himself from the still-instinctual dismissal that comes from growing up his whole life in Charn, in that society where Taara's enemies and adversaries were often hated, belittled, and demeaned. "But he is widely known as the Coyote. I'd actually listened to a performance of a lay concerning Gilead, his brother, putting weasels in Tarien's bed as revenge for Tarien's long acts of mischief the other night."
He looks quite thoughtful now. "An azata serving Tarien--certainly sounds like a more interesting character in your corner compared to a more stuffy one of your brother's goddess. Apologies to your beloved brother, of course, but... Well." Well is a word that speaks volumes.
At last. The smirk Lheo had worn in flickers and flashes now resolves into an actual snicker. "You aren't wrong," he agrees. "I mean, the rules are important, but he's, like slavish about it. And everyone worships him for it. There are some things where the rules have to be followed exactly, and a whole lot more where they just don't help, or make things worse. "Tarien, eh? This could be funny, but - on your life." The smirk and snicker vanish. "Not one word to Theo about any of this."
"Funny? Oh, Lheo darling," Zero responds with a wide grin, retracting the hand to instead plant it on his hip. "This is hilarious. No, dear friend, I swear on my life, I won't tell a soul."
He throws his hands up in a more Zero-befitting gesture. "After all, why ruin a perfectly good story in the making? Someone's got to write a song about this when it's all said and done, and it'll have to be me. I'd just like to see it ending with you and Theo thriving--and with me your loving friend in the background, mmm?" A wink. Yes, this is Zero alright.
If Zerthos finds it hilarious, Lheo clearly does not, although he does at least manage something approaching a smirk. "Thanks, Zerthos. Let's hope it doesn't end in the jaws of a demon, all right?" The haunting is still there, the worries, the brainworms - but the presence of a friend helps, more than he finds it easy to describe.
What doesn't help is the headache encroaching again. "Look, Zerthos, I'm sure you'd love to hang out for a while, but I should probably drink more tea and go back to sleep. There's a price for wielding magic uncontrolled."
"Then I won't trouble you a moment longer," Zero replies, already making his way to the door. "And for the record--I'd rather throw myself into the jaw of that demon than for either you or your brother to be involved."
He smiles in a self-deprecating fashion. "And we also both know I'm the exact opposite thing you need for sleep." There's a waggle of his brows. "Drink your tea. Sleep. The magic will return in time."
The bard slips out the door and shuts it gently, so as to not aggravate his friend. It doesn't take him long to make his way out of the building when, politely put, a bird surprise narrowly misses his lovely white locks. He glares at the two birds sitting on the roof above him.
"Might you do that elsewhere?" he asks, before stomping off in a huff.
It's only a moment later that the other bird, one with gray eyes, chortles with laughter. "Good one! Keep that bard on his toes, won't you?" a certain voice says, before the bird takes off into the sky.