Red and Yellow

[Laszlo]

Brimming with uncertainty, Laszlo hesitated in Suria's company. Anxiety, coupled with the whispers of painful memories, urged him to turn and leave her, but some feeble thread of hope kept his heart bound and patient. The woman was confused, and confusing, but she was also kindred and she ached for guidance. Laszlo wondered if other races felt the same obligation to each other, a tentative brotherhood that begged more sympathy from a human to a human, rather than from a human to an Eypharian. As he considered the thought, staring quietly into Suria's presently green eyes, he realized that if she were a Symenestra asking him for help, he would be just as obligated to listen to her pleas. A wishful notion entered his mind then; perhaps his sense of duty to his kin was a Symenstran trait carried over from his past life. "I'm not positive I understand," Laszlo told her gently. He slipped a hand in his pocket and broke eye contact as he glanced off in the direction of his flat. A warm breeze passed them, pulling through his yellow, curling hair, and he turned his head back to face her. "Just what are you afraid of? The material value of a coin, or my friend?" If it was the former, this could lead to an existential debate on the pointlessness of living when weighed against the freedom of an ascended existence with the gods. With Suria disillusioned and Laszlo armed with cynicism, it wouldn't be a fair debate on either side. "If it's the latter, I can promise you he's mostly harmless." To her, at least. Laszlo liked to think that when it came to selecting women for a Harvest, Duvalyon would draw an ethical line somewhere. Was it wrong to think Ethaefal should be left out of Symenestra procreation? The Lethborn were different, Laszlo realized. More introverted, perhaps more troubled. It might have had something to do with Leth's formerly feral and single minded nature. Not unlike a Kelvic. Suria did remind him of Dor. "I would like to help you," Laszlo said, with some reluctance. His free hand passed over the scar on his side, where Suria's moonlit sister had grazed him with her dagger in a fit of madness. She needed something, and Laszlo could not quite deny her. What could he do but lament over his inability to learn from past mistakes? "But I'm not sure what it is you want from me. I can listen, if that's what you need. I cannot fix what you're feeling."

[Albireo]

His words were sharper, cut deeper into her mind than skyglass shards would in flesh. She kept her gaze down now, trying to sink into the cobblestone, trying to drown herself in a pool of silence. Of course, the city kept her hanging between earth and sky – Her and Him? – and gasping for air. Sometimes she thought it was punishment for something she had forgotten, a dark lump buried under loads of trash. When he moved, she forced words to come out, one by one. Wasn’t it good? That she shouldn’t, couldn’t ever forget. Each word reaching out, like a tiny bridge. “I… know”, she managed. If Leth Himself couldn’t or wouldn’t fix it, one of His children was less than a needle in the hay. They weren’t like humans, not as many as the stars in the sky, but enough. One of them? Nothing. Two? Still nothing. And the rest scattered all over the mortal world. “Both”, she tried to cling to his former question. Then shook her head, a shock of glossy black hair. Looking up, her eyes resembled a storm of midnight blue, violet and other colors mixed into a nameless brew. “No. My fear spans many things. The Symenestra… they’re frightening.” Staccato of words didn’t sound like a storyteller’s speech. “Material values separate me from Him and His domain.” Explanations had dropped from her lips like warm water, not quite refreshing, but clear enough, she hoped. “You are friends with him, yes? You could help me accept him. I want to fight.” Suddenly it dawned on her. Surprise made her head look up and blueish orange eyes meet his by accident. Only hot air escaped, no words this time. It wasn’t the content of her words, but the naked truth that terrified her so much. That passion of speaking in metaphors and painting riddles – communicating with Laszlo erased it. So was she ready to admit defeat to herself?

[Laszlo]

Perhaps it was Laszlo's tenuous connections to the world, the brief time he had spent in it, or perhaps he was just a bit thick, but he was all the same relieved when Suria eased her use of metaphors and became more straight-forward. His posture began to relax, and he met her color-changing eyes more easily. Still, he paused, mulling over the right response. It wasn't that Laszlo had no appreciation for poetry or the art of words, but in his limited experience, people only spoke that way when they were trying to hide something about themselves. Vulnerability, instability, malice—it could have been anything, innocuous or malevolent. The Hypnotist had trouble deciphering the woman behind the words when the words themselves created a winding maze of rhetoric and allegories. After a moment of digesting his thoughts, Laszlo exhaled audibly, then glanced briefly upward at the sky. He lifted both hands and gently placed them on Suria's shoulders, holding her like an old friend. His golden eyes were caught in hers, mesmerized by the strange, shifting hues in her irises, and his lips parted while the words were still coming to him. "Acceptance is good," Laszlo told her. His eyes easily faltered and fell downward. "You're new, and I know everything is terrifying and disheartening and there's nowhere to run from it. I spent the first year of my life trying to…" He shook his head. "Don't let the fear rule you. You still belong to Leth, even in the mortal world. You aren't alone." Laszlo's hands slid away reluctantly, and he rubbed at the back of his neck. He wanted to have time to help Suria. She seemed on the whole less… homicidal that Siofra was. There was every possibility that she might be able to adjust to her life as an Ethaefal. Laszlo owed her nothing, but she was the closest thing to kin that she had. He couldn't simply abandon her. "I really must be going, Suria." He slipped his hands into his pockets again, and his feet wandered a few steps to the side. "I've tarried too long, and someone at home is waiting for me. We'll meet again soon, alright? We'll talk—about the Symenestra, coin, whatever you want. Maybe tomorrow?" Not able to linger any longer, Laszlo turned and began to head toward the Solar Wind Apartments. He tossed one last goodbye over his shoulder. "Take care of yourself."

[Albireo]

Touch was met with a jerk, but her expression and a peaceful purple shade in her eyes told Laszlo to disregard it. Colors formed a connection, a rainbow of change wrapping around solid gold, or was it the other way around? When he spoke, the words were simple, yet resonated in her. “Belong to Leth”, she whispered, to trace what he said, but also to feel His name on her tongue. Always. Would He forgive if she paid attention to one of His lover’s children? In order to feel that ‘not alone’ thing he spoke of? When his hands slid away, exposing skin to cool air, it sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. Hands wandered upwards, covering goose bumps on olive Vantha skin. What irony, but Morwen had lost sight of that child a long long time ago. Suria’s gaze dropped to the street as if to replace a fleeting touch. Be going? It shot up and her foot came after him before she had even processed his words. Something kept her from following his shadow on the cobblestone like a lost puppy. Ridiculous, wasn’t it? Storyteller, Ethaefal, it didn’t matter… none of it translated into marionette. Just a moment too late she answered. “Tomorrow. Yes.” The goodbye left a bad aftertaste, tossed over a shoulder, half-hearted, hasty. Her eyes clouded, pale lightning, and narrowed. Who was waiting, and why? The question brought her back to another reality. His was a different life, not hers. Shaking her head to drill it in, Suria watched his departure: shoulders looking tense from behind. “It’s been one year and a half”, she whispered to herself and a glimpse of Albireo shimmered through Suria Skyglow’s mask. One year and a half had seen the marriage of technicolor and monochrome. And time was passing as if tomorrow never saw Her blinding light. However, it did and illuminated her loneliness: Suria couldn’t find his face anywhere between Surya Plaza and Solar Wind. Days passed, dust and old paper and fragrant ink at work, peace and quiet during bells of rest. No sign of the friendly sun face. After ten days the thought slipped from her mind. Two days later he was seen in public, a fragile-looking girl by his side. Spring melted into summer and with Albireo’s horns and hair changing color Suria decided to forget. Oblivion would be much kinder than Laszlo. AND THE STORY CONTINUES?

[Whimsy]

.
.

Experience Award

.

Laszlo

Exp
+4 Socialisation
+3 Philosophy

Lores
Abalia's Fate
Suria: Daughter of Leth
The Relativity of Fate: Mortals & Ethaefal
Easing Religious Doubt

Albireo

Exp
+3 Socialisation
+4 Philosophy

Lores
The Futility of Faith
The Sun Always Rises
The Incongruence of Materialism & the Divine
Belonging to Leth

Comments
This thread was beautifully written. The juxtaposition between Albireo's desperation and Laszlo's unease and reluctance created wonderful tension. The last paragraph from Albireo really sent home the entire thread. I gave Albireo an extra point in Philosophy as she did most of the actual questioning, and Laszlo an extra point in Socialisation as he wrestled more with how he could help Suria. PM me if you have any questions or concerns.