Waiting on the Halls

There's a cold wind blowing, but thankfully its not carrying any of the snow which it has been of recent. Still, it catches in the thick coat that the wild elf wears and chases her down the street until she enters the gardens. There she finally slows down, grateful for the mild warmth that holds back the bitter wind at the edges of this area. She looks around, and seems somewhat disappointed, but after a moment resumes walking. Her red dress and similarly colored coat is eye-catching even in the dimness of the early night.

GAME: Seldan rolls craft/calligraphy: (4)+9: 13

On one of the benches near the twin statues, another armored figure sits, this one flesh and blood rather than stone. Seldan has not bothered, this evening, to conceal or disguise his armor, nor has he bothered with the traveler's cloak he usually wears atop the silken one over his shoulders. Indeed, gloves and scarf are conspicuous for their absence, although Reunion is ready to hand, the weapon belt he wears joined by a well-made and lovingly crafted mace in addition to the outdated-looking blade.

There's also a book of pages and a set of charcoal pencils on the bench beside him, a half-finished drawing covering much of the open page. It's a half-hearted effort, really, the proportions off, but it was clearly meant to be the statue of the Myrrish knight. He ignores it now, though, and appears to have cast it aside, staring off into the distance, as if the canopy of leaves had answers.

The wind blows in a white hippogryph that has become a familiar sight in Alexandria, along with his red-clad rider, whose armour may have changed but whose face as not. The little Red Knight is protectively clad in full plate and a feather cloak.

Once crossing the barrier and entering the warmer air, her peacock-andalusian lands and commences prancing along the walk. He announces himself, 'Ruuuaaaaah!' He is the Brave Ramirez, beautiful and magnificent.

Paenitia, his lucht rider, is less attention grabbing although she sits high in the saddle. They progress near the benches, and she tosses out a casual, "Hola!"

Auaranr stops as she notices Seldan and redirects herself. A soft smile is on her lips at the fact that he looks so thoughtful, and that he's been drawing, but slips away when she realizes that he's also carrying an unfamiliar weapon. Still she- And there's a small metal-clad individual riding a creature unlike any she has seen before through the gardens. Her lips press together in stark disapproval and she steps back lest she get caught up in its wings.

"Um. Hello." She offers the greeting uncertainly, and then flicks her eyes toward Seldan, her hands tight around her middle with discomfort. She's not good with animals really.

Seldan's eyes lower from their lock with the distant canopy, and he draws and releases a deep, steadying breath before looking up at either of the two arrivals. "Mistress Auranar. Dame Paenitia, Her light upon your path." He looks over at the drawing, staring down at it, then shakes his head sharply and shoves pencils and book alike into the beaten leather satchel underneath the bench on which he sits. It's an unceremonious shove, without much care taken for pencils or bag.

"I am happy for the light. I do not see well in the dark." Paenitia says cheerfully from behind the visor of her armour. It is a mask, a stylized man's smiling face. Even in the light her vision seems somewhat impaired as the lucht moves her head about, a rocking back and forth to adjust what she can see through the eye holes.

"Hola to the Mistress Auranar, also. Do not worry, Ramirez, he is good around the children and small animals, and the big people as well."

'Ruaaaah!' Ramirez agrees, or at least, responds to his name.

"You are taking the relax, Silverguard, this is good. I do not interrupt the drawing." Although, her arrival has.

"Her light upon your path as well Silverguard." Auranar offers politely in response to Seldan's greeting, offering a small smile. She seems to relax just a little at Paenitia's reassurance, but Ramirezs' loud agreement has her wincing away from the large creature once again. "Ah... Good Ramirez?"

She looks at Seldan then, and seems about to say something before rethinking it and keeping her mouth shut for the moment.

"Fear not," Seldan offers to Auranar in an attempt to reassure her. "The bird is under the control of his mistress and shall not harm you." He directs a firm, pointed stare at the masked lucht, one that reads _he had better be_, and folds his hands in his lap. "Naught worthy of interrupting have you interrupted, Dame Paenitia. I weary of it." A sideways look.

"I trust that you are both well," he offers, carefully.

"Yes, he is the very good boy." Paenitia says proudly, a compliment which makes the proud peacock even more emboldened. He fluffs, looking large and majestic. His head curls around on his long neck so he can gaze at Auranar. The Red Knight leans and pats along it, up to his crown. She seriously answers the paladin's serious look, "He has not rampage in at least the two days."

Her voice is very cheerful. She looks rather markedly at the drawing, then gazes at Seldan. Her silence draws attention to her mask, the wide grin, the curled mustache, an almost incredulous expression of mirth. She lets it linger, then says, "I do not take the vow against the comforting pleasantries, but you are ready to spring like the rock scorpion. I do not have the intent in my wanderings now. You have a burden you wish to lighten?" If anything the implication that Rameriez has possibly gone on rampage - recently - doesn't sit well with Auranar. She's glad of the silence that follows to collect herself and step further away from the creature. She looks liable to make a quick exit if Rameriez decides to become blood-thirsty without warning.

Paenitias' words draw her attention to Seldan, and she steels herself, trying to forget her discomfort with the animal. "I see your new weapon Sir Seldan. I have not seen another weapon aside from your blade on your hip in quite some time. Is there danger here that we know not of?"

"My vigilance is without end, within these walls, Dame Paenitia." Seldan is sitting on one of the benches near the twin statues, fully armed and armored and concealing nothing, staring once again into the distance of the leaf canopy as if it held answers. "Mistress Auranar, the mace is but a precaution, and it is not in my mind that you need fear it. This day did I encounter a thing crafted from one of those plague oozes. It was - not a threat, although it appeared to be a magical repository. A spell cast in its presence took on a great deal more power than its caster expected." He sighs wearily.

The little Red Knight nods. She wears both a silver sword and an iron warhammer, and behind her is a brace of polearms. A small arsenal, for a small rebellious force. "Ah, the blunt for the oozes. I remember hear that. I have the few options."

Ramirez for his part is oblivious to his various crimes, real or invented, and whickers pleasantly and looks around. He's seeking challengers, and sees none, and thus is content to stand where his mistress requires.

Paenitia keeps petting at her ivory steed's neck. "I was not here for the plague ooze, hear of them in Isobar. I thought they vanish, they are back again? It is fortunate I do not have the spells to worry about the sudden empowering. If there is the useful details of your battle today. Please, my ears are open."

If Ramirez was a threat worthy of distraction, the thought of the plague-oozes is enough to banish the creature from her mind almost entirely. She doesn't step toward Seldan, but she does lean forward. "It is as though the past continues to come back to haunt us." She hugs herself tightly, and there's the faint scrunching sound of paper that makes her glance down and loosen her grip slightly. "I didn't even guess that something could be crafted from those things, but it does make sense. And creates in of itself a worry that is understandable indeed Sir Seldan."

From the grounds to the south, and even the temple square beyond, another weathers the chill wind. Two, technically, as Verna, wrapped in gray cloak, enters the green and bright colors of the gardens with a Seer in tow. Then adjacent, as the comparatively large man politely suggests that Verna might return to the temple and venture out another time. From his tone and mannerisms, it is not likely the first such suggestion in the relatively brief journey.

A gloved hand lifts, slowly, to non-aggressively gesture to stay the man. "I am afforded some allowance in travel," she reminds him, "and I wish to make use of it."

"What was crafted from them, and some snow, was a crude likeness of Mistress Aya, something of herself trapped within it that it might seem as her, and sent to steal a prophecy." Seldan's gaze remains a mile off. As he speaks, the usual even, steady, confident features are replaced by something weary, sad, almost - haunted? "He holds Mistress Aya within his grasp, Dame Paenitia, or at the least now, his minions do. It is even as she, and I, foresaw. The time has come to do as she asked. Even within the temple walls may I not lay down my arms, lest I be caught unawares when trouble strikes."

"I do not know her well. She is the one that train Aryia? I know her from her, and some of what she ask, and the other things I hear here and there. Only the piece by piece, not the picture complete." Paenitia replies, in a somber tone that contrasts her mask.

It sounds as if she's about to ask something else, there's a breathless puff of words starting which are withheld. "I am careful and cautious in what I ask. I do not want to trigger the repeat memory like the last."

She rises in her saddle, "if it is easier, give me the task, the minions to run down or the object to quest. The details I do not need." She sounds more confident than she should be, offering to ride into ignorance.

The sound of Verna's voice draws Auranar's attention briefly, but Seldan's words make her face cloud. "Don't you think you're placing a lot on your own shoulders Seldan? What is this that Aya asked you to do anyways?" She doesn't actually know who Aya is, but she has this feeling in her gut that the woman asked something of Seldan that she ought not have. Or assumes so given that Seldan seems so pensive on the subject. "No one can be on guard all the time."

Verna notes Seldan's voice and comment foremost, as does her escort. His light, if perhaps justified, concerns shift from Verna to Seldan and deepen. "Stolen prophecies? Silverguard?"

"An attempt only, Seer Bernard," Verna corrects and attempts to assuage the man's worries. "It was not successful." Admittedly, her words may not be wholly effective, given her status as a not-quite-patient-not-entirely-prisoner 'guest.' Her steps turn to to close upon the trio. "Seldan can confirm that there was-" it is then that she notices the syl among them and her steps stutter to a halt. "-Auranar."

"It is even as she says, Seer. An attempt only, and fair copies have been left with Seer Careya." The librarian, then.

Seldan does not look at anyone present, his gaze still miles away, his shoulders tense. "I have no choice, Auranar. Nowhere within these walls is safe, not for me. Too many enemies do I have, and too many that would call me friend, but will not stand with me if pressed. Too many who wish me for their purposes only."

He shakes his head at Paenitia. "Would you help, it is in my mind that Archmage Cesran means to find her, but it is more likely that he shall find naught but her puppet, does he not venture to the Hells themselves."

He isn't sure who asked the last question, but he wears a look that is trying to steel, trying to focus, trying to shore up, and failing. "She asked me to strike her down."

"Ah! I know of him! He has done the magics for me, and we speak. I will speak to him on this." Paenitia declares, resolute. She also adds, "I should seek the Seer Careya also, for the copy, or that is a matter not for me?"

She laughs suddenly. It's not entirely jovial, there's a twinge of trepidation, even fear. "Haaa! I have been through time but not to the hells! I should add this to my many travels. Yes."

After which she's silent, then serious. Her mask as always, a mad grin. "I do not doubt the request, but that is the hard one to fulfil. She ask the great favour of you."

Verna's presence brings a true smile to Auranar's lips, a light thing full of warmth. It's so evident that she's happy to see the other woman, that the smile lingers well into what Seldan says. Particularly since some of it she simply doesn't understand. She understands the last however. She understands the way his whole being seems to be trying to hold up under unbearable pressure. There's a moment where she's looking at Verna. Silently asking the other woman to help her and then she's moving forward.

She's not... she's not very good at this. But Seldan is clearly in pain so she does what any reasonable person who has experience with other people _would_ do. She moves to him. Sits down at his side and touches his shoulder. "She... Oh Seldan." What words are there for the horror of that? For anyone to ask someone else to kill them? She doesn't need details. Doesn't need to understand more than the heartbreak that anyone might feel at the thought of slaying another living person. Much less a paladin? "She should never have asked you such a thing." Her dark eyes lift to Verna, silently asking the other woman to help.

Whatever froze Verna's strides subsequently melts in the wake of the warmth and light of a certain smile. She resumes her approach, stopping near the bench to face all present. "I know only portions of the matter, Silverguard, and only from others. That is no modest request, thus I presume she entrusted it to you for good reason." She doffs her hood now that the wind is stilled, here. Auranar is granted a long look that is pained beyond the black (shifting green) rings about her eyes before she adds, "That the task is difficult does not make it wrong."

"It is one that must be done." Seldan looks over at the touch on the armored shoulder, and closes his eyes slowly, pain echoing through the expression as he answers all of them at once. "It is in my mind that she is no longer human, Auranar. She gave herself willingly to Eclavdran, struck a deal with him, called on him for healing. He took her in exchange for the kobold child. It is in my mind that she is wholly now in his service, for she keeps company with his minions. I saw her with the balors loosed upon the countryside some months back. She must be stopped, ere she harm the innocent, for her likeness would have killed the gnome bard Jinks this day, had we not stopped her. If aught of her be yet left, the last thing I can do for her is grant her soul the peace of the Halls."

"I... I can't say what she is or isn't. I can't say if she killing her would be... the right thing." Auranar seems torn. In spite of her best efforts to be of aid, she hasn't been very useful. Not in the fight against Eclavdran, nor in making Seldan feel any better. Paenitia's story washes over her and she shakes her head, looks a the little woman angrily. "Love!"

Auranr looks at Verna and then away. "I know that for the sake of another that death might be preferable to an alternative, but you don't ask someone to do it! It's..." She looks at the other two women and then Seldan. "Can't you see how much it hurts him? I don't know what burdens you carry Seldan, but... It's okay to say enough. It's okay not to be able to do a thing."

Verna would never counter any statement of peace within The Harpist's Hall. Admittedly peace (or not) is -technically- achieved afterwards, per Her judgement, but that is a semantic detail in this context. Instead, she listens attentively to the lucht's tale, though the syl's glance and not pulls her attention a moment.

"At their end, such was realized, perhaps," she eventually nods her acknowledgement, "yet they are foolish for not recognizing such prior, making amends or compromises, and so forth."

She then steps to Seldan and Auranar's side. "It is a burden, but is not borne alone." Her hand is placed atop the same shoulder in support of the statement. Atop of Auranar's, in fact. Perhaps even the mighty Seldan's shoulders are not so broad? "We are not alone, afterall."

"If I do not, then who will?" The weight of the second hand, added to the first, draws Seldan's eyes upright, and between the women. "I cannot turn aside from one who so poses a threat to Alexandria. My pain will not protect the innocent from harm, and thus shall I lay down my burdens when the Harpist calls me to face her."

He draws a deep, shuddering breath, and lets it out slowly. "Alone. Mourner, you are one of the very few who has stood with me, and for that am I grateful, beyond the power of words to tell. I would ask your forgiveness for the swift nap." The lips are tinged with a small smile. What is he talking about? "I shall not touch the memories again. I shall find a way to make it safe, first. I dare not risk yet another friend turning upon me."

He lifts his eyes last to Paenitia. "A fine story, and yet one that shall not be true for me."

"I have the eyes." Paenitia taps a gauntlet against her mask, looking at Auranar. Ramirez turns his head to gaze at her, with a red eye nearly as big as the lucht's head. "I see his burden. I respect his vows. It dishonour him and his oaths to ask him to put them aside, if he has commit to bear them."

"I see the tale of love in Isobar is too foreign. I speak plain. I have fight the many foe that vow they will battle to the death, that change their mind when they are on the point of my lance." She's like a little metal statue in her armour, when she's still, "I promise to kill them in my challenge, but I relent, if they yield."

"This person, the Aya, may be very commit to the cause. She may be full of demon that have no humanity left. It may be that there the choice to spare her, it not there. Yet if there the sign, that she might yield, that she in not completely gone. It may be that you must battle her to the point of death, and save her then."

Verna joining her gets an expression of gratitude from Auranar. She presses her hand down, adding weight to her touch. Their touch. Yet Seldan's words horrify her. He seems to her eyes, far too ready for the Gray Halls. As if they alone offer him the respite that she at least can so clearly see that he needs. She ignores Paenitia entirely, because to do otherwise is to ignore the sacrifice that Seldan is making. Now in this moment the sacrifice of himself to the cause. And the one to come.

She sheds a tear for him, because even now, he's so stoic that it hurts her. She lifts a hand and grabs Verna's free one. Holds it tightly because _she_ needs something warm and alive to hold onto. "I... You must be one of those that aided Verna with Eclavdran." She murmurs the words.

Looks at Verna for confirmation and because... just because. Blinks back her emotions. "I ah... I have... I might be able to help with that. So... so you can at least perhaps find some peace among your friends. Both of you."

"Indeed, he did," Verna confirms Auranar's supposition, and pleasantly so. The other hand is accepted and fingers curl about those on Seldan's shoulder. In the moment of uncertain blinking, she offers the syl ... a smile. It is feeble in comparison to the syl's prior, but it is present, if brief. (and adjacent to the Silverguard so perhaps he sees nothing!)

"I do not foresee Seldan's impending judgement quite so soon, even in this task," she offers to all three. "To be prepared to visit Her Hall is not the same as to rush headlong for the door..."

The Mourner's focus returns to Auranar. "Please, share what you will. You are far more helpful than you credit yourself."

"Even so." Seldan confirms Auranar's guess with an inclined head and an affirmative. "A decision I do not regret, and yet would I hear your suggestion." His eyes rest for a long moment on the tear on her cheek, and he draws another deep breath and releases it, this one steadier. He reaches out with a callused hand, the gauntlets already removed to draw with, and gently brushes it away. "Fear me not. Know that I do not seek the Halls, but merely acknowledge that I do not choose when I shall be called. In the meantime, I shall do what I may."

With that said, he looks up at Paenitia. "Vengeance is not the duty of a knight, and there is mercy in the Light. My desire is, and has always been, to grant her peace and mercy. If that be by permitting her to live, then I shall do that, and if doing so means a swift trip to the Halls, then shall I do that. But in no case shall I place innocents at risk in seeking such mercy, for she walked her own road, and made those deals of her own will."

Indeed, merely speaking some of his burden seems to have released it, at least for now, although it lingers at the edges. The pain, the burden, the weariness, is not wholly gone, but it has eased somewhat.

"Of course. I do not ask for the vengence. I do not question what you know." The Red Knight says, completely serious and in contrast to her mask and it's mocking expression. "I give you my word of support. I heed your warnings. I have not change my mind."

"Ask the task, I will do it. Share the burden, I will carry. I have the great sadness I have not fight beside you, not since the Restless Horde, but my heart is strong." She thumps her breastplate, gauntlet clanging. "I am the Knight of the Pillar, the pillars are what hold up the world, the civilization, and all the good things. You are the pillar too."

She pauses, sounding contrite, "I have the doubts I say that right, That the word mean what I think it mean. It is meant the good way."

"You speak as a man doomed to the Halls Seldan." Auranar utters quietly, and yet his care makes her smile. His unburdening seems to have helped, and that is all she could have wished for. No... If she could make wishes she'd have washed away his burden entirely. But wishes are not white horses for little Lucht to ride upon.

Slowly she takes both her hands back, reaching into her coat to pull out a somewhat rumpled notebook. "Ever since Verna mentioned the memories I've been doing research on them, and I've come up with a few ways that you guys might be able to access them. I'm not sure how _safe_ any of these methods are but... I think them safer than trying to access them outright."

She offers her notebook to Seldan after a brief hesitation. "I can't undo this, but I want him destroyed once and for all. Maybe his memories hold the key to that."

The list is short, perhaps distressingly so, and each notation has several lines of Auranar's own thoughts on how likely each method was to work. The first - a sith-makar rite for remembering ancient passings - something that will not work given none of those who were there for the destruction of Eclavdran were sith. The second - the spell 'Share Memory', which might allow them to access their own minds for the memories of Eclavdran. The last, a fruit used previously during the trials with the Endless Winter which restores memories of the fae.

Verna did not exaggerate her belief that Auranar was far more adept than she admitted, or perhaps realized, and yet, her eyes widen in surprise at this. Recent (and -very- recent) events involving said memories have already proven unreliable, taxing, and uncertain, at best. Yet, without better options in hand... and now such might be. With efforts begun even prior to the mention moments ago that alternatives were deemed necessary.

And someone believed themselves useless?! How would one properly convey the antithesis of such in a meaningful-

Verna promptly, impulsively steps to Auranar to reclaim the prior contact, this time wrapping arms about the woman. Further, needing to rise up on her toes, she adds her lips to the gesture.

And, yes, a book of vital information was passed to Seldan directly past her and she never deigned glance at it.

Distracted by the book, Seldan makes no comments on the clear affection between the two women - not that he would have comments had he seen it - instead leafing through its pages. He shakes his head quickly at the first, lingers on the second, and eyes the third, his eyes closing and lowering. He's dealt with a fruit of the tree of memory before, and that had been quite the awful experience, on several levels. A repeat is, judging by his expression, a thing he has no interest in.

The second, though - that is possible. With some of the darkness in his mind uncoiling, the tight constriction easing somewhat -

"Seer, Mourner, I would return with you and seek more of this spell. See Her face, and perhaps seek Her wisdom as well. We should return." He hands the book back to Auranar, new life in his expression. She has helped - more than she thought. There is still pain there, but there is also hope.

The group quickly parts ways, to pursue ideas - and a measure of peace.

-End