Remember Me

Snow drifts down from the sky, fat fluffy flakes of white that chill the air. There's no wind to waft them aloft, so they simply drift to the ground one after the other and stick there. Waiting for their cousins to join them from the heavens above. It's bitterly cold, and Zeke moves back and forth; pacing in front of the temple of Eluna to keep himself warm. It's difficult. A part of him wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep, but he can not. He must keep vigil. Must wait.

Occasionally his green eyes drift over the square, looking anxiously for those that he sent messages to. For any one of them to have responded. So far... No one has. But he hasn't been waiting long. It's just the nerves telling him that each second is minutes long.

Verna enters the temple square from the winding path up the ridge. She does not move with great haste nor urgency; even the chill is not a motivator, having been mitigated by layers and (likely) magic.

The missive is neither expected nor wholly foreign, and the location is very much along her path for most any of her daily travels. Thus her earliest convenience is relatively early in comparison to the delivery. Perhaps not as early as preferred, perhaps, as the pacing makari is noted as she nears.

"Peace on your nest," she offers in greeting in the proper tongue. This is followed by inquiry in Trade, "Is all well? Are you uncomfortable from the chill?" She may not be makari, but she understands that their adaptation is towards far, far warmer climes. Blood of their powerful forbears notwithstanding.

As soon as Zeke notices Verna he ceases his pacing, moving toward her slightly so that she doesn't have as far to come as she might have otherwise. It's only a few steps but he seems to be a bit out of sorts this early afternoon. "Peace on you nest." He offers in draconic, the words slipping his lips by rote and yet they seem to calm him. The familiar tilt of his mother tongue soothing.

"No, all is not well." He doesn't think to switch back to common. Which tells perhaps even more astutely that there is something wrong. "This one is concerned about Seldan. He..."

He clasps his claws together and looks at Verna. "Do you know anything about a boy named Hotaru?" <draconic>

GAME: Verna rolls will: (16)+20: 36

Verna comes to a sharp halt at mention of Seldan or, rather, concern for the same. "What is-" she intersperses at Zeke's pause and then pauses, herself, as he ... segues to a relevant tangent(?) A long moment of thought. "The name is ... somehow familiar, though-"

Another halt as a rush of detail comes. Memories. Recollections.

"He is -mine.-" she snaps, voice low but unmistakeably possessive. "Safe." Smug. "-You-, however..." the tone emerging out of her hood as it pitches to him is both more chill than the air yet heated with disdain.

The sudden change in Verna's expression immediately confirms Zeke's concern. He looks to her hands and then to her face and the tone of her voice when she says 'you' makes him take a reflexive step backwards. "Verna?" He asks questioningly, not sure that it is her at all. Quickly he takes action, casting a spell that he hopes will bring the woman back to her senses. A magic circle against evil.

GAME: Zeke casts Magic Circle Against Evil. Caster Level: 14 DC: 17

Verna does not immediately answer nor even move much, aside from deeper breaths made apparent by the exhaled fog from her hood. Gloved hands clench and unclench several times in attempt to ... control? calm? The spell may well aid in this. Finally, she answers...

"Yes... though I do not believe the memories were my own... If they are -only- memories." There is a dour tone to that mention; frowning, however, is a more readily accepted norm for her. "Is this why you are concerned for him? Did you speak to him of ... matters?"

"Thisss... yesss. He reacted very ssimilarly to you when he wasss asssked about the matter." Zeke's voice is smooth and calming, and he seems somewhat uncertain that Verna is herself again, but is slowly relaxing. After a moment or two longer he looks down at her and sighs. "Thisss one thinksss that thossse of you who defeated Eclavdran are sssharing the demonsss memoriesss."

Verna reaches up to doff her hood, welcoming the brisk air to impact her face. Additionally, perhaps (sensible or not) to further confirm that she does not bear horns nor red skin. "From what I experienced, now and then, I agree. In some ways, it is not so surprising; not -desired-, yet not surprising. When and where did you last speak with him? As well, we should notify the others."

"Thisss one ssspoke to him lassst night." Zeke replies, but doesn't explain further. Instead he seems to assess Verna more intently. "Thisss one hasss been in contact with Sseldan a lot, but not the othersss. Thisss one would appreciate it if you would let them know the danger that they might be in; ssshould you ssee them before thisss one doesss."

Verna dips her head in a nod. "Of course. I will make every effort to inform them." Her lips remain pursed somewhere between thought and frown. "This is of great concern. I have accessed the memories of others before. They are not mere performances to observe, but carry the full emotional perspective of the original. Such can be quite the intense experience. In this instance, dangerously so. We are all aware that Eclavdran held no shortage of ire nor ego."

Zeke nods seriously, agreeing completely with Verna's assessment. "Any part of a demon isss a danger. The memory of one is not lessss ssso. We mussst learn how to exersize it. Thisss one hopess that it will fade in time, but ssome woundss do not heal ssso easssily."

"Something of this nature was a consequence which Seldan and I discussed beforehand," Verna admits, "and agreed to accept as a risk. It shall be handled as best we are able. We now know to be ... more cautious from this point on. The others shall be informed."

-End