Viridos, Chapter 3

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Nyashi ║ Avian ║ Courier, #5C3104

She'd never experienced this much thrill and danger and horror in her life. But her experiences were not yet over. Her home was falling and she needed to save her family. Were they even still alive? Her mother, her sister, her grandfather...They were terrible in times of crisis. Her mother always succumbed to hysteria and ran around like a chicken with it's head cut off, her grandfather who was as old as damn dirt, always insisted that they leave him be and 'he should have died ten years ago anyway'.

But what worried Nyashi the most was her sister. Biki, was a coward. One time, three years after Nyashi had been born, a small fire had been started behind their house and the flames had latched onto their back door. Their mother and grandfather had gone out to fetch some medicine for Nyashi who had been sick with the flu and Biki was supposed to be watching her. When the flames made their way to the play room where Nyashi was sitting in a sickness induced stupor, Biki saw the flames and grabbed her younger sister. But Nyashi was delirious and she stumbled and the flames were advancing and Biki screamed, "You're moving too slow!" and she dropped Nyashi and ran.

Of course, Nyashi had been saved before the flames reached her, as there were two pelican avians flying towards their house with bills full of water, but Nyashi always remembered that day, even though Biki never brought it up and always avoided any conversation that involve the topic of crisis and fire.

The point was, that Nyashi didn't expect her sister to be at home when she got there.

And she was right.

Biki was gone, Nyashi's mother was curled into a ball under a plank of smoldering wood, and Nyashi's grandfather was nowhere to be seen.

"Ma!" The swift winged avian cried, landing and crouching in front of her mother. She had to yell her next words, as it was almost impossible to hear her mother over the screams of agony and terror going on around her. "Where's grandfather? Where's---

"He wouldn't leave!" Nyashi's mother screamed. "He kept repeating that same stupid spiel! 'I should have died ten years ago anyway! I should have died ten years ago anyway! I should have--

"Ma! Stop! Focus! Where is Biki?" The swift avian asked, hoping and praying that her mother's response would be different from what Nyashi was already thinking.

Her mother stopped whimpering for a moment and stared up at her youngest daughter with tearful eyes, reflecting pure agony. "She left. Nyashi, she left, and she didn't look back."

Anger and feelings of betrayal coursed through the younger avian even though she knew this would have happened. How could Biki leave their mother?
But no. Now wasn't the time to dwell upon this. She would find Biki and beat her within an inch of her life later. Now she needed to dislodge the plank and get her mother down to the Temple for treatment. "I'm gonna get you outta here, Ma." Grasping the smoldering wood with her bare hands, Nyashi fought through the pain and struggled to lift the wood. It raised about and inch and stayed there. She wasn't strong enough.

Looking around frantically, she screamed. "Help me! Somebody help me please!" But who could possible come to her aid? There were people struggling to escape from their own piles and pieces of debris.

 
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"...three moths had their rooms damaged and one sustained fire damage from an untended light but one of the guards put it out before it spread, the fire appears to be spreading but the wind keeps changing so we are unsure if it will make it this far."

It was a miracle that the small ferret faced girl was able to articulate anything as she raced behind her mistress. A constant stream of people running in every direction threatened to knock the slight girl off the narrow walkway into the water that surrounded the Silver Wings brothel. Not to mention the one she was reporting to was snapping out orders to anyone how looked like they were even thinking about pausing for rest. Since the first those first few chunks had fallen from the sky the sound of soft music and the moans of whores had been replaced with the whack of feet upon wooden floor boards and shouts of courtesans and guards alike. As soon as she had realized that the red glow on the not so distant horizon was not fading Belphebe had sent out three guards when they returned they had done so with their families in toe. After seeing that she had not even needed to hear their report.

With a silk robe thrown hastily around her shoulders she had begun organizing the mass of people that were under her control. Nets were dragged up from storage and anything that could survive a few hours in the water was placed in the nets, each lying in wait as Belphebe tried to read the movements of the fire. Everything of value that couldn't survive in the water had already been divided up among several boats and were drifting not far off under the watchful eye of ten of her most trusted guards. Everything else, that was either to big or just not entirely necessary, well that was quite a different problem. One that she was eager to solve.

"Fine. Remind me to give that guard a bonus when this is all over." Belphebe said waving a hand over her shoulder. With a rasp of scales against wood she gathered her coils under herself pausing amongst the chaos to look out over the walkway to where the red stain marked the approaching fire. A nocturne guard extracted himself from the press of people and knelt at her side.

"Three more guards have brought their families." The statement brought a disapproving tsk from the Madam though she did not remove her eyes from the horizon.

"What of the girls?" She asked. If she tried to send the families away she might lose some of the guards trust. Besides having them here gave the guards a little extra, motivation, to try their hardest to stop the fire.​

"They are in the courtyard waiting for your signal to board the boats."

"Tell them to get going but stay in sight" She said turning and gliding off towards the courtyard.

"But what about you?" The guard asked, surprised that she was not taking the chance to leave early.

"I will stay until it becomes clear I cannot stay, there is still business to be done fire or no fire." She said weaving a path threw the push of people to her office. Thick tapestries decorated the walls of her office, and thick carpets clung to the floor and masked the sound of her passing. A wide desk fashioned from some dark wood was almost completely covered with papers, some baring official seals others penned in such a thick code that it would require days to translate beyond the surface rant about the weather. And still others were simply streams of numbers, inventory checks and studies of the price of goods spanning five years or more. Long nails glided across the papers, the interest with which she had read them yesterday long gone in the face of this new crisis. Eventually she found her hand however over her pipe, with a practiced movement she plucked it off her desk and placed it between her lips. All the fires had been doused but that didn't stop her from drawing a bit of comfort from the familiar weight. A knock at her door broke through her train of thought and she turned golden eyes upon the face that poked around the frame.

"Is there anything else Madam?" Ferret face asked nervously. With a heavy sigh Belphebe rubbed her brow and turned to look through the window that dominated the wall behind her desk. Most days it was covered with a thick curtain but this morning it had been thrown open.

"Find Teadoir. See if he has something to help stop the blaze." The girl nodded but she was stopped as Belphebe added "There is a fair reward if he has something of use." The girl disappeared and Belphebe was left alone with her thoughts again. A massive moth floated done from where it had been hovering around the ceiling and came to perch on the end of her pipe.

"It would be fire that destroys this place." The aux said in a voice that was almost less than a whisper. The comment almost brought a smile the Belphebe's face.

"Irony suits neither of us."
 
Sevoret Umilas - Home in Riven, purple


Three days had long since pass after the arrival of the so badly beaten Sea Wraith. Those who had ridden on the ship, amongst the navy ship's crew--and the crew themselves--had not yet seen suffering like what they saw on Viridos. The Aviary, which lived above Viridosi land, had fallen, plummeting down to the people below it. The destroyed pieces of the Aviary had killed many, crushing them without mercy. And even if some had survived, their homes did not. Oh, how the many homes in Hosia had become desolate due to such tragedy.

Sevoret could hear the howling screeches of those who outlived what the Aviary very much literally threw upon them. Though many had absconded, seeking safe haven, a few had stayed behind, either that or returned to analyze the damage. They cried over their loved ones, who lay lifelessly, brutally defeated because they simply were not agile enough to escape harm's pathway. Legs, arms, and heads peeked out from the heavy pieces that trapped bodies beneath them.

Sevoret felt dismayed at the fact that, while she was off on the expedition, Viridosi people had to endure this pain. Of course, she would not have been able to save all that met the face of death, she wished she could have lent a helping hand. And here it was, she had thought that the people on the Sea Wraith were suffering in the worst possible way. But this idea was squashed upon once she stepped foot on port.

Though she could not have helped in her absence, Sevoret knew that she could help at this point in time. She had made it a mission to gather up two or three families who desperately sought refuge. Her home was not much, however, she acknowledged that her humble abode would fit that many people.

In the three days prior, she and her flock had managed to reach Riven, though not without a bit of difficulty. In the first family she had gathered, there was a grandmother. Although she did survive the Great Aviary Fall, as Sevoret began to dub it in her mind, the grandmother had met death in the second day that they traveled. She had died from tremendous shock. This set their trek on pause as they all, Sevoret included, began to put together a wooden surface. They laid her body on this surface and had commenced prayer to Ilium. None of the people in attendance were undertakers, so they all were unfit to carry out what should be done. And no one had the strength to carry her to Riven. Even Sevoret was still drained of her full strength. So, the family that had lost the loved one were given a moment to mourn before the whole group had to make leave.

After Sevoret and the devastated families had made it to Riven, they made their descent down the trees' branches to get to her home. Though her residence was not at the lowest surface of trees, they did have to climb down a few to reach it.

The three families only consisted of three, four, and two. This was just enough to fill the front room of Sevoret's home. She provided for them blankets and other things they needed. But for food, she would need to go back out again. Sevoret was a hunter, and though her limbs held tension, she vowed to care for the families she had brought here.

Which was why she took to her bow and arrows, going out to make game.


 
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“Land-Ho!”
The call went up among the crew, echoing from each mouth across the White Empress. The Hosian port greeted them with the distant swaying of masts and billowing clouds of smoke painting the horizon. Avians still wheeled through the air, calling out to each other like displaced gulls. It had not been long since Kessel had left the shores of Viridos but already the smell of the jungle sickened him. Thirty years ago it might have been easier to stay on the tides, but Kaustrian and Virdosi navies had cut swaths through the ranks of disorganized pirates on the open water. King of Red Captains, the Blacksails, every pretender to the dead throne of Prosperos had joined her corpses in the deep below. What other scoundrels called cowardice, Kessel defined ‘produce’. The Virdosi needed skilled hunters and Kessel had answered that call. For a Nocturne, all employers would wither in time. But the sea was eternal.

The Nocturne caught Glyph’s gaze from the corner of his eye but chose not to address it. The old man had made a career of living below the passage of whispers and this wasn’t the first time Kessel had assumed him dead. But smuggling three northerners into the heart of Hosia was bold, even by the standards he once held. No drug was worth the risk, but then, he had greater concerns than the interest of the stone-dwellers in poisoned leaves and the Green Folk.

“It will be a short affair,” Kessel boomed, stepping up behind Glyph and Medwick and laying his arms across their shoulders, “It appears as though the Virdosi have their eyes on other pressing concerns.” Medwick instinctively flinched from the grasp, but Kessel only clamped his hand on the scholar’s shoulder. There was menace in his charm. “Seek out the forest kin Hakim Teadoir Ehrendil,” He released Medwick and Glyph, striding past them to the railings, “If his home still stands. No drugs are sold in the city without him receiving a cut.” Above them, one of Kessel’s avian crew was winging past the mast and low over the water toward the city, “I took the liberty of informing Teadoir of your arrival,” Turning on Medwick, he smirked, “I wouldn’t want friends of Glyph to meet an early end for a simple breach of etiquette.”

“What business does the navy have with a man like that?” Medwick returned cooly.

Kessel chuckled, “I was not always of the navy, Northman, and my domain is the sea. If I were to deliver you without warning, Teadoir might assume me threatening his territory. It is poor practice to anger the powers in the port I dock.”

“Teadoir is not well known for his love of strangers,” Glyph said quietly, “You mean to deliver my friends up to that momzer?”

“Not entirely,” Kessel explained, turning back to both of them, crossing his arms, “There is a Draken merchant in Hosia who specializes in rare acquisitions. Shekar Ma’alin. She’s earned the respect of Teadoir for her services. As it happens, she owes me a favor and I’ve asked her to introduce your little party to him personally.” Medwick frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Kessel waved a hand to silence him, “I won’t hear your thanks, consider it smart business. But now that we approach it, I would like to quibble over the small matter of payment.”

“We have paid,” Glyph insisted, “We have an arrangement.”

“Yes! Of course! A splendid one at that,” Kessel assured, “But calling in favors are not cheap but are, unfortunately, necessary. Fret not, I ask for little in return.” He bowed to Medwick respectfully, holding up one finger, “One of your number will offer me the honor of Feeding.”

“No.” Medwick said it before he considered, the thought of the Nocturne with his mouth on any of his companions turning a cold knife in his stomach. Glyph said nothing, watching Kessel and Medwick carefully. The Nocturne’s grin did not falter.

“My apologies, but it is perhaps better than asking an equivalent of currency in recompense. It need not be yours, merely one of your number who boarded. I assure you no more will be taken than is necessary.” His gaze lingered on Medwick, “Consider your options, friend. A man in your position should be prepared for sacrifices greater than simply feeding an old Nocturne.” Glyph only shrugged, as if it wasn’t his place to protest and Kessel nodded, pushing back between them toward the Captain’s Cabin, “Weigh your options,” He called back, “We will complete our transaction before you meet Shekar at the docks.”





Elsewhere in Hosia.


The silk swaddeled Avian delivered messages to both Shakar and Teadoir, leaving them where they would be found swiftly, but offering no explanation for her arrival. Shortly after she winged towards the distant destruction of the Avian city, melding with the winged forms still circling above the city.


Shekar,

My, how swiftly time travels. Has it been four years already? I am told your little shop has been quite successful these seasons past and so I offer my congratulations. Much as I wish I could deliver this personally, I fear business will keep me on the tide for a few days yet. Now, I should like to ask a favor of you…calling upon the one owed. I am delivering three individuals to Farish dock today who will need to be introduced to Teadoir. I understand you are one of the rare few who curries his favor without sap in your veins. I would consider it fair payment.


Sincerely yours,

Kessel Cole



Teadoir,

Respect, Hakim. In interest of our continued arrangement I am informing you of three individuals who will be making port in your city. They claim to be peddlers of White Claudia but I am not convinced of their story. I am sending them to you with Shekar. If you do not seen them by nightfall, seek her out. If their story rings true, do with them as you please. If their story rings false, however, I would be very interested to know their intents in fair Hosia. I would ask you treat them kindly as they are friends of a friend, but be wary of their purposes. As always, our arrangement remains the same. In the wake of this disaster, it might have been easy for three Northerners to go missing within the city. The purpose of this message is to ensure they do not.

Root Deep,

Kessel Cole
 
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Sea sickness and worry had left Caoimhe drained but with the morning dawning clear and calm she had made her way up to the upper decks and had taken a nap in the sun. The steady breeze and warm sun did wonders for her and her strength was quick to return. It was one of those rare moments of peace that she had had on board the ship. After her talk with Glyph she had taken his advice and had done her best to keep the egg as hot as possible, although being on a ship of wood meant that it was impossible for her to use an open flame. She had even managed to spirit away some of the spices that Grandfather had prescribed although she dared not do it again after seeing how the cook had raged. Right now she felt confident that the egg was hidden well enough to warrant a rest, for the past two nights her sleep had been disturbed by the rocking of the ship and those hours that she had not spent sleeping she had spent worrying over the prospect of the captain finding the egg, Glyph's warning still stinging in her mind, and over the fate of the ones they had left behind and the one who had left them.

Aerie's absence left a hole in the group and in her own way Caoimhe grieved for the lost member of the pack. She was very much aware that she owed that foul tempered Bird her life. When their fears had been spoken aloud she had snapped and growled not in denial of their truth but in fear that they were. They had lost so many, even she was not sure whether they could survive losing another.

But on the deck of the ship that had rocked all the food from her stomach, for the first time in several days, Caoimhe just let herself relax. True she had made sure that she was within ten feet of Glyph and Medwick before she had closed her eyes but she could only be tense for so long before she needed a break. Pity it did not last very long. The sound of foot steps was enough to wake her, and the sound of the captain's booming voice was more than enough to make her open her eyes to watch the exchange. Though she kept her head resting against the railing of the ship her eyes were fixed on the captain. Something about his manner made her hairs stand up on end as though responding to a subtle threat, though there was none that she could gain from his words. Some of his speech confused her, she had not spent long enough around the water to have learned many of the words associated with it but she at least able to decipher that they were to meet someone when the ship stopped but Kessel wanted something first.

When he finally left she pushed herself away from the railing and trotted along it until she was standing near Medwick and Glyph. For a second she looked from them to the retreating back of the captain, her eyes suspicious.

"What he want?" She asked softly. Her head tilting a fraction to the side. She had understood the word feeding but she did not understand why he was asking them for food, that is until she remembered when they had first been brought into meet him. He had had a girl in his lap and he had taking her blood. The realization came late but it left a slight sinking feeling in Caoimhe's stomach as she hoped that she was wrong.
 
Approaching Viridos
CAAAHWRRR!

A crow, ethereal black and blue, filled the doorway of the captain's cabin. With fluttering it drove Kessel back one step along the forecastle. And in the passing of the squawk the next sound was a familiar one. A blade unsheathing.

The Nocturne spun and found the wizard Medwick before him, a falchion held in low guard, the crow seeping into him. Between them, four deckhands with weapons likewise primed. They had rushed in as the mage advanced, with a speed no less than anger and no more than teleportation. Kessel's men were poised to slaughter the man at their captain's whim.

He smiled at Medwick between the gauntlet of blades. "That was a foolish thing to do."

Medwick raised one eyebrow, then suddenly dropped out of guard, like an actor forgetting his lines. "Oh, I'm sorry - I thought I was killing you. I didn't realize we were discussing the finer points of mortal folly!"

"Ay ay ay..." muttered Glyph, who was still leaning on the opposite railing with Caoimhe and looking out to sea as if none of this concerned him. The bard knew two things that Kessel did not... firstly that Medwick had activated an Advent... and secondly, that there were few things in this world worse than a Medwick rant.

"Fine, yes, you're quite right, Captain. Let us proceed to the matter of folly. For clearly, I speak this day with a Master Fucking Artisan!" (The curse was strange in the sage tongue.) "Captain Kessel Cole, the greatest idiot who ever sailed. A smuggler - a man paid vast sums of gold to smuggle people across borders without anyone being the wiser - who then proceeds, in a theatrical and tedious monologue..." (The irony was lost at sea.) "...to explain in minute detail how he failed the fundamental basics of SMUGGLING! Then, ladies and gentlemen..." He looked to the pirates, who were holding their swords uncertainly. "...having told at least two people at his destination the names, descriptions and criminal business of his customers, he then proceeds to ask for payment." He waved his sword suddenly, gesticulating. The pirates brought their guard up and readied counter-spells. "FOR A SERVICE HE DIDN'T RENDER!" swish! "FOR A COURTESY HE DIDN'T OFFER!" swish! "AND FOR A SIDE OF VIRIDOSI CULTURE THAT MAKES ME WANT TO PISS ON EVERY TREE IN THE GREEN NATION!"

The silence was numbing. The pirates glanced to one another. Shardis peeked out from below decks. Caoimhe blinked. And Glyph shook his head. Kessel himself had thought many times to interrupt the wizard's tirade, and a witty retort, or a punch to the face, had always been on the tip of commission. But in this long minute he found himself simply listening and absorbing the waves of Medwick's indignation.

The mage was tugging on his collar, flapping it to expose the flesh, while his eyes shot fire at the Nocturne. "Drink as much as you like, you little ferret! It won't make you any smarter! The moment I step on that shore I'm going to tell the illustrious story of Kessel Cole, the criminal mastermind who stabs himself in the foot by violating the terms of his own agreements!" He glanced upwards. "My Avian courier will make it known to every mercenary, cartographer and pilgrim in the known lands that there is one man you cannot sail with, unless your mental derangement is equivalent. And oh, by the way, did I mention that he's an officer in the Viridosi Navy, complicit in the intoxication of foreign nationals and conducting himself with all manner of ungodly vices within spitting distance of the Avarathi trade routes!"

The pirates lurched again. Medwick brought his falchion up, his grip the expert kind denoting military service. He pointed the blade through a web of others raised to parry him. And in the wizard's eyes was fury inked.

"NO BLOOD FOR BABY! YOU DIDN'T DO WHAT YOU PROMISED!"
 
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Hosia - Shekar Ma'alin, saddlebrown
Fire still burned in the city. If the unusual heat and the ash in the air did not give it away, the constant scramble of various locals carrying water or other means of fire suppression did. Shekar ignored it for the most part. Her own little corner of the world was safe, and those it sheltered, and while she could feign concern for the rest there was little else she could do. Besides, she rather enjoyed a bit of extra heat now and again. It kept life interesting.

She returned to her shop, a boy pulling a wagon of foodstuffs behind her, and Nox, as was his usual custom, raced ahead. The little ball of white fire disappeared into the shop to insure all was well again and reappeared by the time she had gained the door.
"You have a letter," her aux informed her in a somewhat nasal, masculine voice. "I think you'l find the sender interesting. Very interesting."
"Oh?" Was Shekar's only reply as she entered leaving the boy to handle doling out the food. She wasted no time finding the paper in question, with a seal she knew well, and upon reading it all she could do was laugh. "Well this is an unusual turn of events!" she murmured as she took the page and began drafting a letter of her own.

When it was done she filled a bag with several items, including a few things she though would be useful if that man was actually stupid enough to do what she thought he was doing, and set out for the docks, tucking the letter into her blouse.

When she reached the place it was a relief to see that the ship in question was not yet in port, though she could see it in the distance. In a short time she had found a young water sprite, handed over the letter with a palm full of coin and sent the child to deliver the note in all hast to the "vessel yonder" with the promise of the same amount of coin again upon her return. Her eyes stayed on the girl as she dove into the water and swam as only her kind could out towards the ship, the letter kept safe in a little water proof pouch. it was with a relieved sigh when she saw the little head stop at the ship she had indicated, presumably to call out and ask permission to come aboard. Now all Shekar had to do was wait.

[bg=cornsilk]The Merchant Shekar bids you welcome,
This humble shop keeper of Hosia would be honored to see to your needs and escort those ashore to whatever places they might be looking for, at your earliest convienence.
Consider this favor on the house, and know that all other prices will be fair.
You above all know how well I keep my bargains. Though, unfortunately, the same can not always be said for all men.[/bg]
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Memento - Three Days Past
Part Two - Regret
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The two had lived in mutual disapproval until at last Aerie had committed the ultimate crime by venturing back to Pegulis -- which had gone precisely just as well as he had always warned -- and disappearing into the snow once more. Or trying to. Somehow, it was not at all surprising (though plenty alarming) that it had taken the literal collapse of an entire society to reunite them.

For which she felt...almost no remorse.

Caoihme and Bossy Human and the others were headed roughly in the direction of the Aviary in any case. It would certainly represent its own sort of beacon once they got close enough. But that wretched pirate's skiff, or however they'd been touting it, had been traveling a drunken crawl at best, and at hearing the news of the Aviary's crashing -- and her father's ever-quickening decline from sanity and popular appeal -- she'd known she'd never be able to sit and wait. And they had Merrick. And that strange, moderately terrifying old man. And half a band of questionable pirates. They'd be fine without her. Probably.

She shook of the uncanny chill settling over her wings and redoubled her flight. The center of the burning city loomed like an orange maw through a cloud of black smoke.

--

A beat of silence. Outside, another building collapsed, breaking away to crush the forest beneath.

"Is that a threat?"

"Hardly. I've left you a gift."

He began to hum. His callous behavior terrified and infuriated. She stepped forward, put a hand on his shoulder, turned him around, expecting, at the last moment, some horrible, gaping maw --

"You've your mother's eyes." He smiled. It was genuine. She went red and turned away.

"We need to leave. The city is collapsing."

He laughed and sang to her, an old lullaby that suddenly rang with a cold bit of truth. "The sky, the sky, it burns and falls. To earth, to death, it calls, it calls."

She shivered, rustling tired wings. "You know, I've never like your riddles."

He laughed again. "No riddles, Aerie, dear, only songs. Meaningless lyrics, I'm sure you recall?"

"Are you going to come with me?"

"Would you have come so far if you truly thought I meant to leave this place?"

She flushed further. "So, what is it, then? Where is it?"

"I've already told you, I've left you a gift. Your mother's hope chest is on the table."

She studied him a moment longer, only then noticing the thin, dark trail of blood tracing a line down his temple and into his beard. She froze and looked about her, spreading her wings again as the ground shifted beneath them. She felt ill.

"Are you sure it's going to work?" she asked cautiously.

"Of course I'm sure." The words had bite, and all the callous mirth was suddenly gone from his voice. Pride stung. She felt a shallow blow had landed. He coughed, clearing his throat of the dust that now rained from the ceiling. Her wings already felt heavy with it.

Carefully, slowly, she reached for the small box and lifted it, peering inside. The crystal was small and rough hewn, but remarkably clear. It felt too heavy, too warm in her hands.

"What is it?" she asked again.

The old man waved his hand dismissively. "It will give us a few more days in the air. I need your help."

She looked to him sharply. He had never said those words before. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"I want you, Aerie, dear, to deliver the thing."


Aerie - The Aviary, darkred
The Avian people had never been known for their strength, but Viridosi Avian prided themselves on being different. Better than their northern brethren. Better just in general.

Strength training for children of the Aviary began just as soon as the children discovered their wings -- and some of them sooner, if the former did not happen fast enough.

The Aviary had been long lauded as a feat of genius and beauty, a city in the sky that floated in ethereal surreality far above the green canopy of Viridos. Its mastermind, its Engineer, had long since lost his mind to time and family, but his Alate had kept the city aloft for centuries prior. It was a city that floated in the realm of whatever gods remained. It seemed natural that only the godly should achieve such a feat.

So young Avian were made to fly the Alate Staircase dozens of times at a run, until sweat coated their wings and their backs spasmed so badly, they could not breathe. For many, it was a rite of passage. For most, it was a chore. For some, it had simple been a death sentence.

It was a tradition that had died out in recent years, upheld by only the oldest of families, seen by most as unnecessary. Avian had always been proud. What need had they of a Staircase that took them from the skies?

Those questions, of course, had been asked before those selfsame skies betrayed them.

And Aerie's father had always been paranoid. She'd lost two elder brothers she'd never met to the Climb, as it was called, and Elias Vunrii had never shed a tear, though the loss had driven her mother mad before Aerie was old enough to ever attempt it herself.

As it happened, though, all the strength training in the world made very little difference when you couldn't fly at all.


To her credit, the child didn't say a word in complaint, even when their path changed from smooth, cold stairs to smoldering embers and shards of glass.

Not to her credit, she was also the first to hear the cries for help -- something Aerie probably would have ignored on her own. She'd bought the city three days. They couldn't afford much more than that. And when she tried to explain as much to the child tugging at her hand, the girl only responded with a blank stare.

Aerie exhaled forcefully and followed the child, who promptly let go of her hand and raced ahead -- only to stop short when she realized Aerie could not follow as quickly.


They came upon the burning wreckage (not so different, perhaps, from other burning wreckage, save the victims here were still alive enough to scream), and the child placed herself out of the way, squinting through a screen of smoke and debris for further danger. She had been good, at least, for that much, having saved them from a crashing building Aerie had been too tired to see just hours before. The young Avian had good eyes, better, even than the average for her people.

Aerie would have loved to introduce herself to the Avian female who struggled with a burning plank, but it seemed time was of the essence, and the haze just now appeared to have stolen her voice from her. Instead, she butted in alongside the girl, crouching to squint at the woman caught beneath the wreckage.

"You," she said, shouting over the crackle of burning wood, "be ready to move. No excuses. I hate excuses."

She stood and braced herself, then looked to her new companion, doing her very best to appear put-upon. She could not afford anymore friends. They were far too much hassle.

"And you...don't step on my wing. Now. On the count of three. 1...2...3."
 
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Nyashi ║ Avian ║ Courier, #5C3104

Just when she had been planning to halt her pleads for aid and start trying to rip the plank apart with her bare hands, help came in the form of another Avian. Nyashi didn't recognize her, but that didn't matter. She was helping, and Nyashi needed to get herself together and give her strength to help her mother.

At her savior's command, Nyashi's mother nodded as vigorously as she could with a plank of wood keeping her in place. "I w-will." She said hoarsely. Nyashi copied what the other girl was doing and braced herself against the wood as well. "Don't step on your wha--Oh." It was then that she saw the state of the other girl's wing. She must have been involved in the battle before. But this was no time to focus on the appearance of others, she was counting down and Nyashi needed to be ready. On 'three', Nyashi pushed upwards with all of her strength combined with the other Avian's and the plank lifted high enough for her mother to scrabble at the ground and drag herself out from under the plank. When she was completely free, Nyashi made sure to set the plank down gently, as not to just let it go and have it yank down on the other Avian.

"Ma! Are you alright? Come on, hang onto me, we're gonna get you somewhere stable, alright?" She said frantically, grasping her mother and helping her to her feet. She winced when she saw the state of her mother's once strong and gorgeous pallid wings. Being under the burning wood for who knows how long had left only a few feathers and mainly just the basic structure. Her mother's back was red and peeling, dried tracks of blood and pus ran down the length of her back. There were small raised lines on her back and when Nyashi looked closer she saw that the splinters of wood had pierced her skin, and her body had attempted to do what it could and healed over the small wounds. The healers would have to reopen all of the cuts. "Oh Gods, ma..." Nyashi murmured, her voice cracking a bit.

Nyashi was no healer, she didn't know how to properly lift her mother, so that she felt less pain. But I suppose there really isn't a less painful way. The young Avian thought. "Pardon me, ma." She said quickly as she placed one arm under her mother's legs and an arm on her back, and held her 'bridal style'. Thank God, she took after her late father and not her mother. She wouldn't know what to do if she had her mother's plump and short build and not her father's muscular and tall one.

Looking around, Nyashi spotted a flat space with a lot less smoldering debris than everywhere else. She set her down gently, and turned to the other Avian. "I don't suppose you're a healer?"

 
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Hosia, limegreen

Teadoir is just about to signal the giant yellow winged darter to take off when he feels a set of tiny arms take a firm grip around his waist. He turns his head fourty-five degrees to the side. The adrenaline is already pumping through his body, but a shock runs through him as he reacts. He recognizes the voice.

"Hakim! Master Ehrendil!"

'Ferret face!...'

"The Mistress needs your help!" She speaks as she clings to his body. The wind is picking up, there is much commotion. "The fire! It's coming her way!"

Before Teadoir can decline the offer, his aux – the Ehrendil Clan ring – disturbs. "You always say that a necessary feature of true believers is to help their friends when they are in need..." The aux paused in a taunting manner "...don't you think this is such a moment of need?"

He lets out a dejected sigh in response as he kicks the darter in the side to get them airborne. "Hold tight!"

When they arrive at the Silver Wings brothel, there is still plenty of time for them to set a protective barrier before the flames can make the situation dangerous. Ferret face stays with him for assisting purposes.

Teadoir does not carry the same 'firefighting' powder that he and Neala used on the campus earlier, he'll have to make a new mixture on the spot. Many a fine nights has he spent at the brothel – he is not going to let it purge in a fire. Even the most devoted disciples of Ilium needs a place like this.

"You!" He still can not remember her name. "Hold this!" He hands her the bag of herbs. He kneels down, she does too. He takes out two small bottles, one gray and one blue. Next he takes out a bowl. Pours a few droplets from each bottle and spits out the names for several herbs - reaching his free arm out for her to deliver him. Ferret face stares blankly for a second, then dives her head into the bag and grabs a handful of bottles. Purple, amazon, bisque, bole, fandango, pistacchio....all the colours of the rainbow is contained in this very bag!

She tries to read the names scribbled on the tiny bottles, on tiny pieces of paper.

"Put that back! Hold the opening up as wide as you can!" No time for formalities, no time for excuses.

Meanwhile, as they are both too busy with the mixture, panicked citizens mount the darter and shoots off, there goes his ride home...

Teadoir works at an impressive rate, he's on his third mixture. The same procedure. First the two bottles containing smelly liquids, then a number of different bottles containing herbs in powder form. Then mix it all together.

This time the herbs are not spread on the ground, but planted as three different packages that covers the side of the brothel that is threatened by fire.

"Now!..." Teadoir adresses the girl "...do not stay close to the line these packages shape. When the fire clashes with it, there will be smaller explosions! Normal reaction!"

He is about to hurry off and leave when he notices his transportation is gone. He looks to the forest...his faith is in his cousins at the Stronghold. He turns back at the brothel and walks.

There is a knock on the door to Belphebe's office as Teadoir enters. A sneaky smile on his face hides his weary mind.

"Madam, I'll be staying here for the night. We can watch the firework together..."
 
It had been early fifty years since the last time he’d been stricken mute. As Medwick spoke, the Nocturne found himself enamored in the words, bound by their cadence. His crew fared similarly, unwilling to strike down the man who’d dare to insult their captain. It was a miracle in itself that they were able to draw their weapons at all. When the last of the wizard’s words tumbled from his tongue a fog cleared in Kessel’s brain…but he still reeled from their implication. Medwick’s ghostly raven slipped from him quietly and winged low over the deck, settling on his shoulder and his naked blade remained firmly leveled at Kessel’s chest.

“My,” the Nocturne laughed, clapping his hands together, “What a marvelous show, truly a rousing speech.” He continued clapping, stepping towards Medwick, and pausing just shy of the point, “Quite the spirited apothecary you are, your words must buy you the finest customers.” He nodded at his crew and their own blades found Medwick, prodding into him uncomfortably till he lowered his sword. Even his fury was not enough to eclipse his preservation. “I admit to being perplexed,” he continued, dangling his compass aux between two fingers “I’ve provided a favor and you answer with threats and indignation. What is a captain to think of his hospitality?”

“We seem to have a very different understanding of smuggling and hospitality, captain.” Medwick spat the title like a curse. Caohime stepped toward Medwick but likewise found herself menaced by blades.

“Not so much, if you’d care to give it some thought.” He circled Medwick and looked out over the sea to Hosia, “Hakim Teadoir is a xenophobic murderer. Such as it is, he makes common habit of executing those who would tread on his narcotic domain, such as yourself. There is no avoiding this, especially as White Claudia is rare outside of the North…he would find you.” He turned back with a jovial smile, “Glyph is an old friend and if he considers your product important enough to lead you to the Dread Cove? To speak to me? Well then, I would consider it a disservice to let you go on foreign soil as ignorant as you were when you threatened me on my own ship.”

Snake-quick, Kessel reached through the net of blades to find Medwick’s wrist. The Nocturne twisted it painfully, forcing the bard to drop his blade, unable to counter with so many other weapons restricting his movements. His other hand found the scholar’s collar and hoisted him off the ground and over the railings, dangling him over the deep-blue beneath them. Caohime made a noise somewhere between a squeak of surprise and a growl but found Kessel’s crew was quick to surround her. Even Shardis, stepping out from below deck with two blades in hand and already arced over her shoulder, discovered the anima in the crow’s nest casually aiming a crossbow. “Make no mistake, peddler,” Kessel growled, “You find yourself in a very dangerous place to make threats. How important you must consider yourself, to squawk so loudly. I doubt any will mourn the loss of a Claudia pusher by sea nor will anyone question my decision to arrest you. You are correct, your blood would afford me NO further intelligence if you think intimidating me on my OWN ship is a wise decision. If you have not deceived me, If you are a simple Claudia pusher, then I have done you a life-saving favor and if you have lied, you can only blame yourselves for the predicament you’re in.” He hauled Medwick back up over the railing and hurled him across the deck. Medwick tumbled, his hands working feverishly to enact a shield before hitting the deck and rolling to a stop at the foremast. Glyph hissed under his breath and stepped toward the Nocturne but Kessel held up a hand and smiled, “You’re across the world now, Northman. Things have changed. Sing if you wish, sing of me and my betrayals, of any crimes you consider me complicit in. I think, perhaps, you value your life more than indignation. You cannot offer my neck to the noose without first offering your own.” Medwick stood, undamaged from the throw as his makeshift shield fell away from him like shattered glass. Kessel reached down and retrieved his sword, striding over and offering it, putting a finger to his lips, “Do not squawk so loud, Pegulian, I do not think your lives can be considered safe if you insist on rumors.” Medwick took the blade and Kessel held his hands out, palm forward, offering no further violence. “I admit to acting without consulting, but there was no malice in the decision…I thought you would be glad to know your lives and product would be safe to integrate into the Virdosi economy. Be assured you will be treated fairly by my contacts and they are not the kind with loose lips…their business depends on secrets kept.” Medwick scowled, but said nothing. He wasn’t sure what words would incite further violence. “Keep your blood then,” Kessel shrugged, “I am not so savage as to take it by force.”

The crew lowered their weapons, returning to their duties and Kessel paused by Glyph before returning to his quarters, “I worry for the safety of your friends,” he said quietly, “If I do not believe their story, how many others will question their purpose here.”

“Hok a Chainik,” Glyph smiled, “This does not concern you. My friends have more chutzpah than you know.”

Kessel grinned, opening and closing the worn compass in his palm, “They better…or find their death by week’s end.”




The ship did not dock, instead idling just outside the long piers as a rowboat was lowered. The hobbler was paid a few coins for her trouble and gratefully disappeared beneath the murky depths. Kessel was there to see his guests off, his arms crossed behind his back as they loaded into the boat. “Our time together was short, but I do wish you fortune in Viridos.”

“Fuck off.” Medwick said without much conviction, the captain had proved unpredictable so far and they were not so close to freedom from the White Empress for Medwick to risk their lives against the Nocturne. Kessel only bowed, smiling. Shardis growled and Caohime stayed silent, hugging her pack to her breast while her eyes searched for Glyph. They found him at the railing, leaning of his arms and smiling at her. He didn’t speak, but needn’t have bothered. She took a little solace from that smile, enough to push her past the nausea of sea travel and the cloying thought of the woman bent over Kessel’s lap, bleeding into a cup.


The boat was lowered to the sea and the two crew inside rowed them to the pier where Shekar waited. Neither of the two spoke to the guests and the guests seemed to have no interest in speaking with the crew. Silently they conducted their business, waiting as Medwick stepped out of the boat and helped Caohime and Shardis as well. The latter snarled quietly at the crew, baring her human teeth and feeling a bit like it would have been better were she in her leopard form. One of the crew, a Forestkin with a net of branches lifting around his face grinned and blew her a kiss. Her instinct called her to leap upon him, claws drawn but Medwick’s firm hand on her shoulder steeled her resolve.


The last of Kessel’s crew pushed off back to the White Empress and Medwick followed its passage with simmering rage. They had no sooner reached their destination than had been thrust into another debacle. Taking a deep breath, Medwick’s eyes found the draken near the end of the pier waiting. With no other direction to go than forward, he and his party stepped across the dock and into Hosia.
 
Hosia
And so, three ambassadors of the Blue Republic found themselves, at last, on the shores of Viridos.

Medwick toppled to one side, dropping the facade of strength he had shown the pirates. His knee howled with pain. His shoulder ached. The spell he had cast when Kessel hurled him had only cushioned so much. The Wizard slumped against Shardis and propped himself against her, taking breaths against the torment. Then he sneezed and gave a loud sniff.

"That went well."

Caoimhe stared at him, while Shardis crossed her arms and scowled at the humid sprawl of Hosia. The city was more like a refugee camp - houses strung between cypress trees and hung by wood plank and rigging. A half the city was afloat, the river choked by business boats and drifting temples. Back and forth, hordes of street children hopped from house to house like they were stepping stones. And the water shimmered red and green from the lights of hobbler fairies. There were larger stone dwellings on the delta levees - the imposing keeps of the merchant houses, by which massive trade ships lumbered. Yet the greater city was shanty town and gondola.

Hosia... literally... was writhing.

"You should have paid the man."

Medwick tested his leg and stood upright, uncertainly, once more. "We're all weak enough. I couldn't let any of us enter this city with blood loss. We have enough to d-ACHOO!!!" His allergies bent him double.

"So rather than being a little light-headed, you chose to get beaten up?"

"I chose to appeal to his gentlemanly side. But I suppose Nocturnes don't have time for such things."

"What is fuck off?" Caoimhe interjected, but Medwick shook his head.

"Just an incantation I'm working on."

"Shall I kill this one so we can be on our way?" Shardis was eying the shopkeeper Shekar, who was heading down the pier towards them.

Medwick straightened up from another bout of coughing. "No. This is a game we have to play. Aerie is gone. Glyph is gone. We're fish out of water."

Caoimhe frowned again.

The wizard stepped forward, leg trembling, and concentrated on breathing the humid, spore-ridden air of this alien clime. "Let's get this over with."
 
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Hosia - Shekar Ma'alin, saddlebrown

Shekar didn't mind waiting, waiting was easy. One one end a missive had been sent to Teadoir, coded of course, to determine a convenient place and time for the meet, and on the other end she could see the Hobbler child returning from the ship. Shortly after she could make out a row boat being lowered into the sea.

"Quickly, child, tell me everything you saw," Shekar ordered as she padded the girl's palm with more coin. By the time the girl left Shekar knew what she needed to know. These guests had not parted from Kessel on good terms. It was more than enough to determine the best course of action, for her, as the boat docked and the foreigners arrived. She turned then, and strolled down the pier towards them. Her bag banged against her hip and while internally she called Kessel nine kinds of fool, this latest charade of his could ruin them all, outwardly she offered a large toothy grin. There was no point in hiding her merchant's greed. They'd already know to look for it.

She fished in her bag for a moment and pulled out a flask filled with rum and tossed it to the scowling man. "You look like you need a drink," she stated, and she turned and began to lead the way elsewhere. Nox floated behind the group, the little ball of white fire healing them like a farmer's dog. "Follow me, please. It's Kessel's job to get things across boarders. I keep them hidden." she turned into a sheltered alley and tossed the bag back to the first of the party to step in. "You'll need these." inside were several cloaks of Viridosi design. "The less you stand out, the better."
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Edelon


Temple Halls
Carus roamed the secluded halls leading away from the council chambers. The avian followed the twisting ways, bringing him deeper within the temple. He hardly noticed, he was consumed by the bitterness from his audience with the Clad. A long time had passed before Carus realized he was being followed.

He did not see her right away, for her flesh was darkness. It was the nocturnal shimmer of her eyes that betrayed the shape of her body against the ceiling. Her limbs splayed, pressing hands and feet to the walls to keep her aloft.

Carus started, almost said her name, but was silenced by her glare. Quickly, her gaze shifted from left to right, making sure they were alone. Then, she dropped from the ceiling, landing without a sound. She followed Carus into a shadowed alcove. He embraced her, shielding her from sight in his wings. They wouldn’t have much time to speak like this.

He whispered. “Chelena, by the dead gods, what are you doing here?”




The Council Chambers
There was no conversation shared between them as Lady Ironblood escorted General Tattersal to hold audience with the Clad. There was nothing either wanted to share. The Lady was engrossed in her own thoughts over the last week’s events. Captain Valyrin had the names of the three captains the half’turne pirate had given her. They would be arrested and held for questioning.
There was only the matter of the unspeakably evil thing she had trapped inside of her. Ironblood had yet to confide her actions in anyone. How she had used her advent to open her body to the grieve mask, channeling the prisoner inside. Once the advent had ended, her body rebelled against the dark being, repressing its corruption.

The foyer outside the council chamber was crowded with nobles, scribes and priests. The air was thick with a hundred conversations, all the same subject.


--end of avian civilization.

Recover from so much--

--Prophet...?



The Alchemist and General passed a horned Undertaker as he ascended the corridors leading to the crypts. He had death’s perfume about him.

Ironblood watched Tattersal as he approached the archway where the Clad held council. He had come in this time of crisis, with armed men like wolves at the door. There was a hush across the room, when those in it recognized the scarred face of The Fallen General.

Something deep within her wrenched, testing its bonds.
 
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CHELENA-EDELON, cyan
People almost always gave away their presence long before they would have had a chance to see her. The colors flooded down the hallways before them, reaching forwards and falling back, curious tendrils exploring reality before their source had a chance to taste reality for itself. This new visitor was no exception. Whoever it was must have been storming down the hall, so bright were his colors.

Chelena reacted almost by instinct. She threw herself at one wall, bouncing off of it and then nearly ricocheting off the other wall to push herself up into the shadowed corners of the ceiling. She hung there as easily as a spider, watching the approach of whomever it was who dared to interrupt her explorations. She had not found the special thing yet, the thing that she was sure was going to bring her into a whole new experience of life.

Little did she know, the very thing for which she was longing was approaching down the hall. It took her a few moments to realize that she recognized the colors that were coming down the hallway at her. She recognized his light-stepping feet, the distinctly unique pattern of colors that his wings created as they rustled against themselves, but, most significantly, she recognized the strong, lithe form that strode down the hallway towards her.

Chelena let out a soft noise, one that stained the corners of the ceiling pink. He looked up, either by chance or by hearing her faint noise, and their eyes met. It took her only a moment to make the decision to drop down from the ceiling, and practically into the waiting arms of Carus.

His wings folded gently around her, the feathers brushing gently against her bare shoulders. Soft gold grew around each point of contact, and she let out a contented, peach-tinged murmur. Her hands ran over his chest, and the whole alcove began to fill with the pastel colors of her pleasure. It was rare that she got a chance to touch others, and Carus had been one of the few to welcome her softly probing fingertips. Vethe too coiled around his feet, although the Aux could only pass through his legs- ghostly, unfelt and unfeeling.

She was distracted by his voice, the distinctly patterned colors mingling with the others that filled the dark alcove. A rush of air escaped her nose. He was being a spoil-sport.

"I was looking for," her hand, still resting firmly on his chest, beat out a quick staccato, sending quick gouts of color into the space between their chests, which perfectly finished her sentence. Colors. She was looking for new and exciting colors. It had never quite occurred to Chelena that most people were oblivious to half of what the colors had to say. They knew that sounds communicated meaning, but were unaware that every aspect of them, from their movements to their breath to the heat of their body, conveyed meaning to Chelena. She got by well enough that she had never been forced to learn the difference, even if it occasionally led to sticky situations. "I've never been in here before."
 
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Ash of the Heartwood

The Alchemist and General passed a horned Undertaker as he ascended the corridors leading to the crypts. He had death’s perfume about him.

Ash was living in his thoughts , his body dragging him along on it's own accord as Cora watched to make sure he didn't run into anything. There were so many possibilities that the undertaker could barely grasp them all at once.

If the Avian city was truly falling why would that happen? Could the monster's reach touch the stars? Was anyone truly safe? Why did the prophet choose him? Why didn't he just go purify this beast himself?

Ash remembered the people he had purified in the tree, how their Aux were still with them even in death. Their black eyes staring with emptiness, the tentacles reaching with hatred. The avians he had saved were not like the others, it was a small relief to know that the beast didn't taint them. Maybe it was possible that the beast was not the cause of the flying city's destruction.

The Iron Child most of all was the one in true danger, the Prophet had shown her to him for a reason. It was important to protect her...did she even know what was contained inside of her? Ash was not one to deal with the living often and the task given to him would prove troublesome. He would have to convince the woman that she needed to be cleansed...right?

The undertaker wrestled with deciding the correct course of action but as he heard footsteps his thoughts froze. A woman and a man walked past him, their expressions melancholy but that was to be expected. The countless deaths of all races would surely cause mourning for a long time. Men, women, children, it mattered not as death would take everyone equally.

Ash stared at the woman for a moment longer before a memory flashed before his eyes.


The girl whirled on him, cheeks flushed with anger, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I don’t want to be a Cinnabar Clad! It’s too hard!” Her shout sent the lemurs scurrying for higher ground. “I’m not good at it.” He saw her Aux, a silver acorn pendulum around her neck. It hummed in an attempt to calm her, but this only seemed to stoke her hot temper.

“You are closed, child of Ilium. Closed from the suffering of disease and poison. You are closed from the love of others. You are iron.”


Ash found the words he needed as a second memory flashed right after the first.

“You can do it, I know you can. Heal me of my human blood.”

"Iron Child, Cinnbar Clad, one who wishes her blood to be pure, you are in great danger." Ash waited for the woman to stop.

"I know the truth that is inside of you," he paused for a moment to see if she understood before diluting the truth to deceive the man with her. "We all have an anger...an evil inside of us that we must control. A burden we bare to protect all others." Another memory flashed in his mind, it was as if the prophet was still with him.

His eyes searching the ground before finding a large and flat piece of bark. Returning to the black earth he scooped up some of the ashes, the tree skin slowly closed around the pile creating a wooden pouch.

"The prophet sent me to give you this" Ash reached for the small heart wood pouch he had saved from the ashes of the tree and placed it in her hand. It was the ashes from the tree he had purified, it contained the bodies of those who were tainted and for some reason he knew that she would understand.

"It is urgent that you study this, it will bring you peace in troubled times but please speak with me once you have discovered it's meaning."


Ash did not know if he could trust the man standing next to her and so he did not say his anything plainly. The undertaker did not know that just speaking of the Prophet might be a cause for alarm, he wasn't aware of his absence...only the vision was he given.

I do not like this man with her Cora thought to him, remaining hidden as she watched the situation unfold.
 
Belphebe had watched the performance with a small smile, Teadoir was a merchant of dreams, of illusions, of relief, and occasionally of death but he was a friend and a friend was always welcome. Moving away from the window she headed towards a small desk that was mounted by a large silver backed mirror. Covering the desk were many small pots, jars, and containers, each carefully decorated. Winding her coils in from of the mirror she traced her fingers along the lids considering her options before she paused and opened a small silver pot with birds twirling around its lid. Inside was a dark red power, taking a pinch from the pot she placed some of the powder on a small silver tray. Adding a bit of water to it she used the paste to carefully stain the scales above her eyes a red not unlike the scales of her tail. Once that was done she removed the lid from a larger stone jar and using a soft brush she cover the scales from the bottom of her chin to the top of her shoulders and chest with a fine silver powder. Then with a soft cloth she wiped the area over, giving the illusion that the scales in the area were finely edged with silver.

For a few moments she gazed at her reflection in the mirror before her view was interrupted by her Aux.

"And how do you know he will be staying? There is a fire spreading if you remember." There was almost something disapproving in the way the moth fluttered her wings.

"Oh Ree, you know I do not know. But to be prepared is-"

"-to survive." Ree finished with a discontented twitch of her antennae.

With a coy laugh Belphebe slithered over to a large couch where she gently layed down. Making herself comfortable she reached over to her desk and grabbed a few sheets of paper that she had been working on. Although she did not have to wait long.

"Oh I should start fires more often if it means keeping you here for an entire night." She said her voice like the caress of velvet. Leaning heavily on the arm of the couch she tossed the papers she had been holding back onto her desk. Using one hand to hold her pipe to her mouth she used the other to pat the empty space next to her, her eyes full of mischief. "Are you sure that your little business shall survive with you otherwise, occupied?" her voice was hardly more than a purr.
 
Aerie - The Aviary, darkred

Aerie watched in equal parts boredom, irritation, and impatience at the the somewhat gory reunion between mother and daughter. Given that she'd had her own tense parental reunion not so long ago -- one that had landed her with a broken wing as well as the fate of an entire city on her back -- she was feeling none too forgiving, either.

The child, though, had started to rush forward, drawn by pity or interest, Aerie couldn't say and didn't care. She did, however, find it strange that her hand shot out of its own accord to grab the child by the scruff of her clothing and haul the little Avian back to her side.

"A healer," Aerie repeated plainly, eyes raking over what they'd left of the burning pile of wood and stone. "I understand you're distressed, so I'll say this as kindly as I can. If I were a healer, do you think I would be walking across the city, picking up burning ash and broken glass with one wing, trailing this weeping thing by the other?" She jerked a thumb at the girl child she'd found, who peered around Aerie's hip at the girl and her mother almost apologetically.

"Don't answer that. It's rhetorical. You know rhetorical?"

The girl child tugged on Aerie's hand. Aerie ignored her, once again squinting through the haze of smoke and orange sky. She needed to get to the Staircase, and quickly. Her father had sworn up and down that planting the first crystal at the top of the tower would balance the Aviary long enough for her to get to the staircase. But she was pretty sure he hadn't planned on his daughter being unconscious for half a day.

Sighing in exasperation -- this was precisely why she'd left home in the first place -- she turned back to the Avian woman and her mother.

"Do you know where in the city we are? I don't recognize any of this, and it's been...a while. I need to get to the Staircase. I need to get there quickly."


Memento - Two Days Past
Part Three - Reason
2013-hastings1_obsidian-940x701.jpg
"I don't understand."

"No one understands genius but genius, my dear."

"Is it genius to wait until the last minute? For gods' sake, man, we are falling out of the sky!"

Aerie was in a sore mood. Her father had kept her up all night, despite her entire body aching for rest. She'd last slept aboard the ship with her Pegulian companions headed south on the Prosperos Sea -- her thoughts turned toward them once more in a frustrating betrayal of logic and necessity -- and the breakneck flight toward the falling Aviary had already cost her nearly a day in itself.

"Neither can genius be rushed," responded Eli, in infuriatingly sage tones. "Now, tell me again, sweet daughter, where will you leave my beauty?"

Aerie shut her burning eyes and shaking fingers through her hair. How they had not both been crushed already was far beyond her. "Your what?"

Eli slammed a fist down on the table so suddenly, she jumped and nearly sent a week's worth of blinding work crashing to the floor. The old Avian lunged forward like he was going to strike her.

Instead, her gripped her chin between calloused fingers. Pale blue eyes bore directly into widened green.

"The Beauty," he said again, and she could practically hear the capital 'B' this time. "The Third Creation, child. The Key to the Sky!" He tittered, half excitement, half something else, and Aerie shivered, though it had grown quite warm. She wondered if there were flames licking somewhere outside the heavy door.

"At...at the top of Heaven's Spire," she answered finally. "If I can reach it," she added more quietly. Eli appeared not to notice, and released her, once more humming under his breath, as though he'd never lost his temper.


"Good. Why?"

"Because you told me to." She saw a dangerous tremor go through his wings, and quickly assented. "Because...because the stone will...supersede what remains of the balance in the Geomantle." He said nothing. She took that as a sign to go on. She did, frowning in thought. "And that's...that's good because it will move the center of gravity from the Alate Staircase to the tower for long enough to plant the new Alate, and -- "

"There is no new Alate!" bellowed Eli again, and this time, Aerie shrank back half a step. "There can never be a new Alate! Do you not understand that, you stupid, pretty thing? Is your mind as full of cotton and clouds as your mother's was?" Aerie said nothing, staring blankly.


"The Alate is unique, it is perfect! It cannot, and will not be created. It must be found, and if we can not find it, then yes, young one, then you may panic, for things will have become much graver than they appear. There will be no hope for any of us on that day, and so you must realize -- now, Aerie! -- what I have done is not to recreate perfection. I have only given us time."

He calmed as abruptly as he leapt to fear, stooping once more to pick up his broom to break through the coating of dust that was forever falling from the trembling ceiling. Aerie didn't move.

"The Key to the Sky was born of the stone from the very center of the Geomantle," he went on, as though describing the weather. "It will want to rejoin the 'mantle, and so force a new center of gravity just above the tower's base -- the precise center of the city. It will stabilize the Aviary long enough for you to get the crystal to the Alate Staircase. Ideally before geomantic forces tear the Key asunder."

"Right. Melodrama aside, if that's all we need, why bother going after the Alate?" Aerie asked cautiously, allowing a brief sigh of relief when the question brought no new flood of anger.


"Nothing can replace the Alate, Aerie. The crystal will only keep the city from collapsing further for a time. It will not return us to the skies, and it will not heal the damage done. You must find the Alate and bring this thief to justice."

Aerie balked. "Me? Where -- ?"

"If I knew that, daughter, we would not be having this conversation." He stopped as another powerful explosion threatened to knock both of them off their feet. "Now, do you understand?"

"I...suppose so."

"Good. Then put yourself to some use for once. Go save the Aviary. And do try to keep your shirt on."

 
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It had been a long three days. He said his goodbyes and returned to his shop. Thankfully, some might say.

The fall of the Aviary had a reach that no one in Viridos didn't feel the touch of. At least, that it was it felt like. For three days, the blacksmith has yet to get a decent night sleep. He had never been to the descended city. No family (that he knew of) were ever thinking of going there. Hardhoofs tend to like to keep their feet on the ground. Even Khanaan's enjoyment on the sea was an udder shock to them. But this wasn't not the real reason why The Bull Anima had trouble finding those moments to get great shuteye. It was his orders. Given to him by Avians, there was a sudden need for nails and other building supplies. It was for the refugees to build temporary house until they find more stable residence.

For three days, he has done his best to contribute. Nail after nail he gathered together what he could and even had to order new supplies. It was a duty. For those innocent people, and his friends, Khanaan Hardhoof worked.


CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK phissssssssss


"Last one."
 
Edelon
There was a hitch in the avian's breath at the nocturne's explorations. It had been so long since their last meeting that Carus forgotten. Chelena was a slave to her senses, prone to following her strange intuitions divined by colors only she could perceive. It was his favorite quality, one he would happily exploit under different circumstances.

But this was no game and Carus divined better ways to exploit her unique talents.

"You've wandered enough, nachtling." His hands found shoulders, caressing her night skin. "It's a miracle you haven't been seen by a Kindly One." They couldn't be seen together, here of all places. They would need to separate and meet somewhere more clandestine.
The avian parted his wings as he turned out, away from her. His parting instructions: "Follow the holler."
 
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