Completed [Flashback] Favorite Mistakes (Erasmus)

[Krysanthe]

The words ‘I trust you’ all too easily escaped from the Symenstra’s mouth. It bothered Krys that he could lie so easily to her face, when she could tell that, without a doubt, trust was not something this young man held firmly in his grasp. There was no evidence that Erasmus was not being honest. There was not a single ounce of proof to accuse him of being uneasy. If it were not for the color of his skin and shade of his hair, he looked as if he was at home here. Despite this, Krysanthe still felt wary of the man. There was someting about him that struck her as odd, that made her feel like he was hiding something, although there was nothing to prove it. Her suspicious nature was getting the best of her again. She tried not to think about it. Despite her own growing apprehension of the thought of having to spend time with this lad, Krys did not regret making such an abrupt deal. Her apprentice had instructed her clearly that when she makes a deal, she should take immediate payment. If the customer thought it was a scam, then so be it. They could by their glass somewhere else. This prevents the glassworkers themselves from being conned, and at this point, Krysanthe began to wonder if that was all that this man was – a con. A façade. A lie. She watched him closely, although the relief would be easy to see when she received the case. As much as she tried not to think of herself and focus on the matter at hand, it was incredibly hard which such incredible a price. She set the case on the table in front of her, keeping her bony fingers protectively over its cover. So the man, Erasmus, didn’t know exactly what it was that he was trading. Well, that is not a terrible thing. In fact, it might even turn out for the better. Perhaps he would underestimate the value and therefore underestimate Krys’s skill, and by result, she would not have to work as hard. Who am I kidding. She told herself. She would do her best no matter what the circumstances. It was impossible for her not to try. With a growing look of determination brimming her golden irises, she did not give the man an answer immediately. She had to think about it. Where would they go first? She could tell by the way he tensed up ni this crowd that the bar/dance club Incliment Weather was certainly not the place to go. Krys could accept that. She wasn’t one for clubbing. No matter, she had all day to think about this. The real question was where she was going to meet him when she was done working. After all, that was what he had actually asked. “Well,” she finally responded, although her thought process had in reality only lasted a few seconds. “Why don’t we meet by our rooms, neighbor? Simple enough; that way I don’t have to track you down. I’d imagine you would get lost easily in this place.” Her statement, however lighthearted in her emplied reference to the night before, Krysanthe had a bit of seriousness edging into her tone. It was not uncommon for travelers to get lost in the many stone halls of Wind Reach. When you roam through them without having grown up with them, lived with them, breathed with them, they all seem to blend together in the end, and the next thing you know, you are in the infirmary when you are supposed to be in the common rooms.

[Erasmus]

Erasmus Slice! And there it was all plump and precious, his heart being served on a silver platter as the redheaded lady composed it into her unworthy possession. Now, do take caution in your thoughts, for by that hyperbole I only illustrate the symenestra’s exact and literate thoughts on the specific matter of such a transaction. Erasmus was a man detached from sentiment; the Heart, in his predetermined perspective, meant nothing more and nothing less than a vital organ critically placed to pump blood throughout his body. By implying Krysanthe held his Heart, it simply proclaimed she now legally owned that of which his survival depended on: the priceless malachite case. The self-centered crowd that seemed so distinctly oxymoron to his people in Kalinor did not notice or mind Erasmus wondering desperately how quick he might bleed out onto the stone streets, what with such a mortal wound inflicted upon him… crimson blood staining the chirpers’ little golden world one blemished ruby-red drop at a time… his eyes would match the liquid quite perfectly. He could already see his white corpse being pecked at by the birds as it lay dormant and forgotten, forsaken on the cobblestone. Such a quick ‘cold-turkey’ separation from his briefcase disturbed him as much. He did indeed wish such a sad farewell could never have been… what would the man be without his laudable prop? The strange man with the malachite case was now to be simply named ‘the strange man.’ How dull that sounded, how disrespectfully dull! For a second or two he allowed the separation anxiety show through his crimson pupils. The bitterness quickly subsided though, and he listened to Kryssie without interruption or protest. The straightforward explanation for his sudden materialistic sense of loss can be summed up in one fact, he now was no longer independent. He was taking a risk. He honestly did not trust this beauty, and he knew she didn’t trust him at all either. It was set, and he couldn’t go back on his end of the bargain anymore. He couldn’t change his mind. I suppose it’s safe to say Erasmus had just expected this moment to come later in his visiting duration. “Why don’t we meet by our rooms, neighbor? Simple enough; that way I don’t have to track you down. I’d imagine you would get lost easily in this place.” – This statement both flattered and insulted the conceited observer. At one angle of the spectrum, he felt a ping of resentment upon being reminded of the faulty error made last night. He still had no explanation for the tactless omission. On the other hand, the little darling was genuinely concerned for his safety. Cute. He was not one to get lost, however he only passively smiled at her comment, not intending to overstay his welcome. Re-tracing steps seemed a rather tedious way to do things, but the request was lucid and not entirely open for debate anyhow, therefore the spider took the chance to practice his conformity, as Kryssie seemed to know what she was doing. “I’ll be there waiting then.” He petted her ‘new malachite case’ with a glimmer of mischief. “Take care of this, there are no refunds. Thank you again, neighbor.” And so he left the woman to her vending, crisscrossing the streets using only the memory he extolled himself on. He didn’t take time to notice the already previously seen details of his returning voyage to the Common Rooms, what with having many thoughts ensnared inside his skull. Actually he hardly remembered clambering up the steps to get to his corridor, or opining the door to his room (which by the way, he got right the first time). Even in his dark windowless sanctuary the creature found no solace in waiting. He spoke in his native tongue, only to himself as he door swung tightly fastened behind its current master. “Patience, you dim-witted clown!” admonished the pondering spider as he lowered himself to the hard floor, leaning against the bed frame. After a long pause his head lolled back to glare at the ceiling as he continued lecturing himself in a chastising tone. “You’re going about this all wrong… you’re acting. Don’t act. She’s not a fool. Kryssie will see straight through that mask all too soon... do not ruin this with arrogance!” He chuckled at himself, wondering how idiotic such a scene would be if strangers witnessed his dreadfully one-sided conversation. Having nothing better to do, and despite his efforts to keep his hands busy by weaving some more half-finished wall-art, Erasmus fell into a light nap while listening for any commotion outside his door. He was just another trinket left to lie on the ground of his rather cluttered abode, without a place to belong. A pretty little toy he was, but useless until given a purpose in life. Although the genius thought he was then chasing his present obligation, he would look back on this day with spite and fondness at a later date… when things would alter both himself and his road eternally.

[Krysanthe]

Krysanthe allowed his words to sink in as he disappeared into the crowd. No refunds. Fair enough. Somehow, in the back of her mind, she felt as if those words had some sort of immortality clinging to them. Somehow, some way, she felt as if those words would come back to haunt her some day. The prospect concerned her, although the concern didn’t last. Such a feeling was positively ludicrous. Completely irrational. Her honeyed eyes lingered in the direction of his exit for a long moment, her mind temporarily unable to stop playing with those words. There was something eerie about those words. Something that chilled her. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. Blinking, Krys forced herself to return her mind to the present instead of whatever it was that lied in her future. Her eyes once again fell upon their little malachite case. Her greed for the substances was as green as the case itself. She opened it and traced her fingers once again over the little bottles and vials. This was hers. Hers? All hers. No, it couldn’t be possible. This was a dream. It must be. It was a shared dream of every glass blower in the volcano. These substances were rare, yet she knew each one by name and by purpose and even more so by color. She was so excited to create with these. She entranced at the idea of creating art that was refreshing and new to her. She was only an apprentice and had a long way to go if she ever wanted to be an avora, but the thought of going further in her ‘career’ frightened her. Perhaps she could just say as an apprentice. Maybe she didn’t even need that title. Perhaps she would just be a chiet glass worker. Could she do that? Perhaps. She didn’t mind. With a click the case closed, and Krysanthe tucked it away, out of sight. She wanted to keep it safe. She handled the case as if it was filled with explosives, and it may as well have been. If even one of those little containers cracked, the entire case could be compromised. Other that odd deal with an odd man, Krys didn’t make any especially interesting trades. How could anything compare with such a deal? Solid gold for a tour? It was intriguing to say the least. Krys had attempted to formulate a plan of where she would take the Symenstra man who had become her neighbor. She had to make it good. With a deal like this, she had to take him somewhere extraordinary. But where does a spider like to go for fun? She had time. Of course she had time. She could think about this all day. And that is what she did, and it was for nothing. Later that day, Krys was walking back to her room. It was evening now. She stopped in her room and tucked away the case in a place where she hoped no one could find it, not that anyone ever entered her little hovel. With a short glance in the mirror, not really giving any thought about her appearance, Krys went next door, knocking on Erasmus’s door with a simple syncopated rhythm. She waited outside, still having absolutely no idea where she was going to take him. She prayed to whatever god was watching her that she would come up with something at least moderately decent.

[Erasmus]

Erasmus It didn’t take long for Erasmus to become overwhelmed with boredom and a feeling of uselessness, which he dreaded more than the sound of the Nari Language (and mind you, that is saying a lot). He couldn’t allow himself the relaxation of sleep, he had faced the fact that he was not a born weaver long ago, and he stubbornly stuck to the discipline of staying indoors simply because he wanted to see if he actually could. The man found it humorous that, in Kalinor, he could lock himself up in his home for days on end and be perfectly content… he supposed the excitement of a new world is what jarred the restless wonderer deep inside his soul to awaken. Fond memories of his lonely yet ‘thrilling’ childhood resurrected in his mind, and he found himself reasonably proud of the inward change. Then again, he caught a glimpse of his father, and tried to bitterly knock the ‘restless wanderer’ out cold again. His father was an idiot, a lunatic who valued… who knows what, over his only son. Erasmus darkened, and told himself repeatedly that he was not happy to be in Wind Reach. He wished for homesickness. He was no wonderer. He was a symenestra. He had a job to do. But he knew he was only lying to himself. There was much more in his plans for Wind Reach than winning a girl to take home. Confused with his disarray of different contrasting opinions and thoughts, he banished all controversy from his brain. Better not to argue with one’s self. Erasmus was opening a bottle of ink and rummaging around for his quill before he even hardly realized he’d plucked a journal from the many items scattered about the floor. Scores of countless hours -in his undersized cocoon/house, nestled cozily within dear sweet Kalinor- Erasmus would fill the lonely silence of is abode with faint sounds of rustling paper. It was the same in his newer, more provisional Wind Reach alcove. The scratching of a wet quill dancing over parchment swept even strokes back and forth along the tranquility, and the familiar rustling pages sung their lullaby so convincingly that the symenestra could nearly imagine himself back in his niche by the old, creaky front door… nobody to interrupt or bother him, as if he alone ruled Mizahar in its charming air of nothingness. He wasn’t much for organizing his thoughts on paper; nonetheless, he decided the act would be a ‘sophisticated’ venture to undertake, at least for once. Besides, this was an important point of time in his life. Some day he may read these chronicles to his future child. Ha! No… but he knew he would definitely enjoy the option to look back on the self-defining adventure later on. He tried to describe this strange world ‘best he could, laughing at his bias point of view more than once. Erasmus diligently bent over his work; he was a bitter-sweet individual, and it showed in his tiny, deeply-grooved, yet fairly precise penmanship. The man logged in his day, the events of last night, and the subject of his new ‘project,’ as well as what he looked forward to in the future. The vocabulary of which he chose to paint the pages by was also finely selected. Engrossed in this new occupation, the time seemed to slip by like a viper, swiftly moving through the dead leaves of an untamed wilderness. Unnoticed. Undocumented. Unscathed. When the knock aroused Erasmus from his dissection of what ways Wind Reach would be altered, if at all, by Krysanthe’s future inexplicable disappearance, the spidery fellow made a point to enter one last paragraph. He silently reprimanded himself, because Erasmus knew (from countless days of people-watching) that, if allowed to consume its host, pride will not hesitate to reduce the strongest of men to rubble. He was no idol, no perfect specimen… though he held his self-worth above ‘lesser’ races, the male knew better than to make a habit of optimism. Enough. He closed the book carefully, tenderly sliding the thing away. He stood, stretched with a wide yawn, and walked to the other side of the room. Erasmus slowly opened the door to find his ‘teacher’ waiting in the hall. Erasmus stepped from beneath his doorframe to stand beside the petite figure, he closed the door accordingly. Had Kryssie had gotten a good glimpse of his untidy living space? She seemed to be so organized, herself. Unlike her, he wasn’t concerned with ‘where’ they were headed. He had complete faith in Kryssie deciding the ideal location of which to lug her new pest. Anywhere she determined to take him would be perfect… he wanted to know everything he could about Wind Reach, before he had to leave forever. Today was not about ‘seduction’ at all; rather, today he would focus on the necessity to fill his mind with the abundance of new facts. It was an addiction of his… Erasmus existed to watch and to listen and to comprehend every conundrum the world had to offer. Why else would he choose such a distinct place as this to begin his ‘harvest?’ He longed to see this new, fascinating, eye-opining world for what it was. This multifarious fellow sought the reason why these people loved the sun, the taste each chirp concocted when flying from their pursed lips, the value of every bird… today was about allowing this fine young lady to give him a tour, on her own terms, in her own words. Quite noticeable against the canvas of his white skin, his hands were stained with a little ebony ink. He held them up to examine the damage done, chuckled, and gazed down the walkway with aimless inquiry. “Hello,” he stated with youthful eagerness. “Where are we going?”

OOC: I was really tired when I wrote/posted this, so I will go back and take out/edit some things if I need to when I get the chance to look back over it.

[Krysanthe]

He certainly took long enough to get to the door. Krysanthe had to strongly fight the urge growing inside her to repeat the knock, to call his name, to somehow ensure that he was still inside that room, to remind herself that yes, this actually happened, and yes, she was actually giving a tour for a trade, and yes, possibly the most shocking outcome of all of this, she was actually going to have to be social. Not only that, but she was going to have to at least sound intelligent. The chiet glassblower knew her stuff when it came to making knick knacks in the Reverie, but when it came down to it, she was not exactly the most well versed Inartan citizen on their home. Sure, she knew her way around, but from what she understood, tours were about giving information, not just seeing the sights, and she had very little information to give. The sights were going to have to be pretty petching brilliant if she wanted to manage to distract her customer from her blatant lack of knowledge. After what seemed like an eternity of freaking out, the door finally opened. It was lucky Krys was basically colorless compared to the rest of her species, for if she had been red before, her skin was now flushed of color. Watching Erasmus separate himself from the shadows that clung to him from the depths of his habitat was haunting, like watching a ghost emerge from its grave. He was so entirely haunting. He moved with silence and such smoothness that he could be mistaken for a shadow. His skin was like the color of unmarked paper, save for the smudges of ink dappled on his fingertips. His nails were long and sharp, black and thick, having no useful purpose for which Krys could figure other than purely to look intimidating. And then there where his eyes. He had the eyes that were always stereotypically strewn from childhood nightmares. They were the color that blood is just before it leaves a fatal wound: deep, shadowed, unforgiving red. He chuckled. This humanized him at least a little, enough to make her wonder if he was laughing at her mannerisms. She hadn’t meant to stare. His eyes shifted down the hall, and Krys was distracted for the time being back to her thoughts of where on earth she would be taking him. He offered his hello, and his words tickled her ears once again. They were kind and soft, like everything he spoke was a line of poetry. And then he asked her the one question she had yet to find an answer to. ‘Where are we going?’ Before she had a chance to come up with any kind of reasonable sounding answer, she merely spat “We’ll both know as soon as we get there.” Great. That made no sense. She quickly tried to make up for that slipped nonsensical sentence, following it up with “What I mean is, I have this place in mind, but it’s quite a walk and I’m not sure if we’ll get there yet tonight, so our actual ‘destination’ might just be somewhere in between. We’ll know when we get there.” She offered him a smile, and it would be innocent enough, but on the inside she was rejoicing for her quickness in rescuing herself from what could have been a train wreck of a situation. And now she had an idea of where to go, and she wondered why she had not thought of it sooner. With a nonchalant wave of her hand, Krys motioned for her new Symenstra walking-buddy to follow her down the hall. Her pace was slow, for Erasmus wasn’t the only one constantly interested in the caverns of Wind Reach. Krys had seen them a thousand times over and yet they still struck her fancy. “Well, right now, you’re in the Darniva Commonrooms. Really, the Commonrooms stretch out through the entirety of Wind Reach, housing every resident except the Endals, who live in the Eagle Airies. I like walking through the Commonrooms, since there is rarely a bare hallway.” Woo. That sounded tour-guide ish. Maybe if the whole glassworker thing didn’t work out and if the world crashed into some kind of alternate universe and Mount Skyinarta was suddenly swarmed with visitors like it has never been before, then she’d have a future in giving tours. Ha. Taking a moment to look at a sculpture of a Gyrfalcon with its wings stretched to touch the heavens. Krys always had a thing for Gyrfalcons. They were just so pretty in their simplicity. With a small smile, she continued on her way, not needing to think where she was going as her feet lead her down the well trodden path, mind swarming with potential questions that Erasmus might ask, trying to form answers before they could escape his lips.

[Erasmus]

Erasmus Like a child being lead through the jam-packed rows of a candy shop, Erasmus did not know where to look first. Every sight was a new and sticky treat he’d never before seen: the birds in the sky, a fiddler on a street corner, a child selling fruits… all the racks and jars full of deliciously sweet culture screaming, begging, dying for him to just have a taste! A different world with different people and an abundance of different sights just waiting for him to take a glimpse! This, this is fascinating! There were also so many crevices of which the spider could hide away… if only he might lose himself, sit, and watch. Oh, for just a day! Oh, to be invisible! To not have disgusted glances tainting the streets as he walked by… if only he could see this place in its truest form, without his shadow to maim the volcanic conurbation that knew so much and yet so little about his ‘morally hollow’ race. Yes, Erasmus saw the distrust in the eyes of many. Did this pain him? No. They were too low a race to steal his marvel… but what did they look like amongst only the one’s they truly trusted? Erasmus knew not the eyes of a welcoming human… not eyes that looked at him in such a matter. But who’s to change that? Widows will be widows; humans will be warned by the double-crossed… or, rather, those who witnessed the double-cross’ fates. They were smart things… some of them, anyway. And yet, ahead of him, there walks Kryssie. Did it pang her? Forced to lead a hellish spider though her very own streets, did it pang her when people turned their heads to stare? Perhaps it was all in Erasmus’ imaginative head… perhaps there was very little a number of the watchers that watched Them in particular… but still, did it? Was she ashamed of him? Did she secretly hate him, too? Was this a lost cause? How did he know she was not leading him like a lamb to his slaughter? She had the merchandise, what drove her on? Why did he trust her? Did he? Do I, though he. Do I trust her? There was so much about the redheaded, golden-eyed, pale-faced lady that he could attempt to evaluate. He didn’t concern his focus with her any further, though, not this day… she was doing well what he had asked, and this, today, was not about the future surrogate at all… it was about the city he longed to be acquainted with and the guide he had acquired along the lengthy journey of discovery. Erasmus was very appreciative Kryssie did not rush though the city. Every new turn, that took him through an ally of which he had never been, mired his steps. At one point he even found himself stuck at a standstill in the middle of a cobblestone street, gaping at a swirled burgundy and golden-flecked glass bowl balanced on a windowsill in a small glassmaking nook. When he realized he had quit moving, the symenestra stranger flashed Krys a grin at his expense and continued on, more mindful of his shuffling feet, but still at much slower a pace than he was capable of. Imagine being placed in an entirely new universe… you see, even the sight of a sun every now and then could be counted as a rarely identified peace of this all-new puzzle. Each statue gave a flicker of interest in his vermillion orbs, widening them ever so slightly until at last he had to remind himself to blink. However fascinated he was by all of this, he did not ask a single question. He felt as though slowing Kryssie down was enough to eradicate her nerves, so instead the leech bit his tongue and kept silent throughout the journey. He stored all his inquiries inside the deep mechanisms of his mind, for a later time, when he was confident she wouldn’t mind looking over her shoulder to answer him back. It seemed that even the road on which their feet toured was enough to idle him further. Still, he was eager to reach the destination. What did this young lady have in store for her client today?

[Krysanthe]

Krys was not at all exaggerating when she told Erasmus it was quite the walk. They had been walking for a good twenty minutes, with Krysanthe pointing out a few things as they passed. She didn’t want to go by anything too major today, because she didn’t want this walk to be too long. No, she wanted to keep it pretty basic today. She walked past the Market where the permanent shops were, pointing it out so Erasmus would know where to go if he needed anything. She also made a point of passing the Kitchens so he would know where to get food. The woman was not entirely sure what it was that Symenstra ate, so she figured he could get whatever at the Kitchens, and if not, then him knowing where they were wasn’t going to hurt anybody. The pathway eventually sloped downward, and it became more and more apparent that they were going underground. The air grew humid and light grew dim, now that natural light had been extinguished, replaced by torchlight in the halls. Krysanthe soon stopped, turning to face Erasmus. “This,” she explained, “is the path that leads to the Underground Forest. It is where I wanted to take you, because something told me that you’d enjoy it. I just wanted to say a couple of things before we get there. First, watch out for bats, leeches, or really any other bug or creature down there, because they’ll probably kill you if you give them the chance. Also, watch your step. There’s a chance you’ll end up leaving smelling really badly. I don’t want to go too far in, because it’s easy to get lost. But you can feel free to walk around and stuff. And when you want to go I’ll guide you back up. It’s been a while since I’ve been down here, but I don’t get lost easily.” With that, Krys turned around, walking in silence until they reached the entrance of the Underground Forest. She stepped aside to let Erasmus view the strange and oddly magnificent cavern.

[Erasmus]

Erasmus The deeper they marched, the more at home this spidery fellow felt. At the entrance it was simply the delight of a place he could mesh into that lit up his face with such a ghastly smile. Pointed canines and those dark red eyes, skin as white as parchment and his hair as dark as night itself… it seemed as though Erasmus Taxus had been hatched here; made to walk amongst the mushrooms and sprout wings like his cousins the deadly bats. Reminiscent of a kitten with a ball of yarn, if we are going with the softer and more pleasant form of happiness, so was this young symenestra upon setting foot into such a forest as grand as this. Needles to say, his concern for ‘Kryssie’ and all her hidden thoughts completely abandoned his consciousness. He would have to be paranoid later. If Krysanthe was looking for her perfect killing strike, now was the time to do it. To Erasmus, there was nobody here. Nothing could ruin this moment… not even a stab to the back. Slowly, like a ghost visiting his former tomb, Erasmus treaded softly forward. The luminescence of the different fungi spores was very similar to that of his beloved Kalinor opalgloams… and yet the constant insignificance of the glowing lights compared to that of the ebony vastness seemed to wrap him in his once familiar cloak of twilight, liberating the man wholly from the crude rays of sun. To be home again! Back to his woven city… that cold place where roads of string took you to hanging cocoon-houses… even the promise of deadly critters made Erasmus want to gleefully laugh… who would have thought it? A place like this… who could have told him there was a little place where he could close his eyes and pretend the cold breeze was one of Kalinor’s own? It wasn’t exactly the same… but the man was still very much more in his element compared to walking around on the surface. And finally, he could see!! Abruptly swinging his body around, Erasmus scrutinized Krysanthe with the best of his eyesight for the very first time. She was still as he remembered her… but much more radiant, much more defined, the shadows didn’t hug her like they did to him… but she wouldn’t belong in his Woven City, either… she was much too bright, not like the phosphorus stones back home, but instead much like the sun. Erasmus compared himself to her own race and liked the fact that he and the sun were not as compatible. Still, Krysanthe was so… “You were right. I do love it here… very much.” He smiled again, this time not with his teeth. “This place has so many similarities to home; I could probably stand here all night just staring into it all…” The spider chuckled at himself, “If you like it here then you would like Kalinor, Krysanthe. Just imagine… tight-ropers, I think you’d probably call us ‘tight-ropers’… and little raindrop-shaped houses… and man-eating spiders, if you’re not too careful.” He didn’t think to clarify that the spiders were actual spiders, not symenestra… perhaps she wouldn’t catch it. If Erasmus had meant to scare her, he would have thought it proper to say ‘woman-eating spiders,’ not man. Anyways, as he ventured deeper into the cavern, Kryssie would have at least noticed that he still heeded her warnings. Leeches, bats, and other poisonous things would probably not welcome Erasmus, even if he did resemble all of them in some slight way. At one point he simply stopped. They were under a mushroom’s rather large umbrella… everything was quiet, peaceful, and perfect. To his knees he did sink, deeply inhaling the moist air as he felt the ground with his fingertips. Deftly, the figure shifted his position to lean his back on the stump of the mushroom, his hands behind his head and his entire body relaxed. Falling asleep any moment was a high possibility, and for a long, drawn-out throng of minutes, it nearly looked like he Had drifted into a deep slumber. His eyes were closed; his breathing was placid… if his body had suddenly been petrified like the former trees of this once surfaced forest, Erasmus wouldn’t have looked any different than he did now. Motionless. Like he belonged. Like he was home. Resting as he was, Erasmus’ brain rattled many different conundrums before he finally opened his eyes. He sighed. He spoke. His voice didn’t break the silence though; instead, it seemed to simply harmonize with it. “I hope we agree that any questions I have for you, so long as they are not crossing too many personal boundaries, of course, should be answered truthfully? And vise versa. If you have any questions for me, have at it. I don’t think you’ll be able to stump Me with a question… but who knows?” A hint of a smile chimed in… even if she couldn’t see his face clearly, she would know of his upturned lips. “If I’m talking too much, you’ll just have to excuse it, by the way. I’m going to get what I paid for.” His tone was soft and a little quirky as he continued. There was just so much about his tone to be noted. He seemed to paint glowing pictures in the air with each syllable. Crossing his arms. Raising his brow. Rolling his eyes every now and again. “So, Krysanthe, why live on and in a volcano? Why all the birds? How do you say… ‘I’d like to buy a peach,’ in that chirping tongue of yours? And… and how long do you think it will take for my necklace to be completed? Hm… do you see very many symenestra in Wind Reach at all? I seem to be a frightful sight to some. It’s very… funny, yes, ‘funny.’ That’s a good word I suppose... Do you know any good stories from your culture?” He seemed to be enthralled with all that Wind Reach could possibly teach him. He was genuinely interested in every question asked, and it could probably be inferred that he had to stop himself from asking more in order for his guide to catch up. The curiosity was evident, of course. He resembled a child in the phase where everything in the world had to be explained… as if next he was going to ask why the sky was blue, or why she had golden eyes instead of green.

[Krysanthe]

It had been hours since they started the tour. Literally, hours (or at least it felt that way). It took a long time to get from the Commonrooms down through the warrens into the Underground Forest. It had been quite the hike, and Krys had nothing against just stopping and resting. Still, the fascination that this peculiar, pale skinned man created an odd fascination in Krysanthe herself. Sure, she had been here before, but it was always difficult for her to find any real beauty in it. Where he saw wonder, she saw the gross excuse for food in their harsh winters. Still, the way he looked at it, the way he seemed so awed by the giant, looming mushrooms brought new light to Krys’s eyes. Perhaps there was more here that she was just not seeing. That she was preventing herself from seeing. Like she was holding herself back, and Erasmus was pushing her to move forward, whether he realized he was doing it or not. Then, suddenly, he swung on his foot and started staring at her. Krysanthe stared back at him, her eyes finding it hard to see much of anything in this dull lighting. His features were faded and blurry, and he looked like he would melt into the shadows at any moment. It was haunting. Krys felt out of place, like she was invading this sort of dark sanctuary that Erasmus just somehow fit into. It was like he belonged here. It was as though this entire place was a cartoonish version of an eternal night, the cool mushrooms, the indiscernible dripping from some unseen source somewhere in the distance, the hushed wind, the nearly undetectable sounds of the odd creatures scurrying about in the darkness. This was the night, and Erasmus was the moon. Pale. Soft. Gentle. Yet with so much power behind him, like he could control the tides if he wanted to. He was just so… Krys felt rather proud of herself for figuring out to bring him here. If there was anything she was good at it was her business. She could make a sale when she wanted to. So what if she wasn’t a social butterfly? She was good enough at things that didn’t involve small talk and gossip. And Erasmus even told her how he loved it. She liked listening to him talk. His voice was heavily accented, and yet it made him blend into the surroundings even more, like even is language belonged here. She listened to him describe his home, the tight ropers (amazing.), the rain drop houses (beautiful.), the man-eating spiders… Wait, what? Okay, that one caught Krys off guard, but she still at least attempted to understand. So that place had its dangers just like this one. She at least hoped that is what he meant. She was glad to see she listened to her warnings. Despite the fact that Erasmus somehow made her feel more secure in this place, it still made her uneasy. As if any moment some creature was going to emerge from the shadows and swallow her whole. It sent chills down her spine. Still, this man had given her an amazing gift. Really it was like a combination of a philtering set and a set of dyes, with elements and chemicals and other magnificent items that would really help her along in gaining skill with her trade. She owed him some time here. Of course, then he sat down. Great. Was he going to fall asleep here? What would she do then? For a while, she just stood and stared at him, as if trying to will him to stand up. Like she was trying to imprint the message into his brain. Control him. Get up. Let’s go. Please. I don’t like it here. I’m not like you. At all. Come onnnnn. But alas, her efforts were futile, and he just sat there. Defeated, she plopped down next to him, at a distance, but still close enough that she felt safer. He was so relaxed, but every muscle in her body was tensed and alert. She tried to breathe deeply, but for once, she was uncomfortable not because of nervousness of talking to someone, but simply out of fear for not knowing what lay around the corner. Suddenly, a new sound flowed from the darkness. It took a moment for Krys’s mind to register that it was Erasmus speaking, but she quickly picked up on everything he was saying. She nodded softly in agreement about the questions. Great. She would have to talk more. Oh joy. He had a point though. The trade was for more than just a piece of jewelry. It was for knowledge. Why he went to a glassworker for knowledge, she had no idea. Oh well. Tourists. What could you do? She almost smiled at his little quirks. They were so suave, like even in the darkness his words could bring light to the situation, and she found herself breathing a little easier. And then of course he started asking questions, and the familiar nervousness of talking to people returned to her stomach. The way he went on and on with the questions without giving her a chance to answer right away reminded her of Vaas, who was really her only friend. Perhaps she could introduce him to Erasmus. The blind Inartan man might find it interesting to meet someone who shared his interest in… well, knowledge. But that was a concern for a later date. For now, she had to focus. She had to answer his questions. She turned her head away from Erasmus, thinking for a long moment before responding. Immediately, she was envious of the way his voice flowed so smoothly with the environment. Hers just barked right through the silence. It was invading it, ripping it apart, and it made Krysanthe angry. Why couldn’t the Inartans be so suave? Jealousy aside, she responded “Why live on and in a volcano?” She sighed. After a moment, she just shrugged her shoulders. “It’s where I’ve always been. I mean… I can’t imagine living anywhere else. There’s just so much color here. So much life. Every day is exciting.” Lies. Krysanthe had a rather dull life. She wasn’t one to be social, and she lived in a very social culture. “And birds are magnificent creatures. Have you ever watched an eagle fly? The way its feathers reflect in the sunlight? The way its eyes sparkle? The way it becomes one with the sky, floating effortlessly in the breeze, without a care in the world? They are wise and beautiful creatures. We learn a lot from them. They protect us, and we, in turn, protect them. Without our birds, we are not whole. They are as much a part of our people as the Inarta themselves.” She paused another moment as she thought of his next question. She shook her head as she remembered, saying ‘I’d like to buy a peach’ in Nari, repeating it slowly, word by word so he could learn it. She wasn’t sure how his digestive system works. She just assumed he liked fruit. She didn’t tell him how to say anything else, but he didn’t ask, so she figured it was fine. “The necklace? Ah, it really depends. I still have to work out the details of what it will look like, the patterns, designs, you know. I’m not even sure I know of a color scheme. If you have anything in mind, you’ll have to tell me. It’s yours, after all. Hopefully not long. I’d hate to keep you here waiting on me.” Oh Krys. If only you knew. “Um… Not really. We’re a pretty closed off… area. We don’t see much of anyone. And… Well… Most of us… Well, we don’t really care for people without the red hair and tan skin. Know what I mean?” She offered him a smile, as if to apologize for her race’s racism. What could she do? She was glad he found it funny, but he was right. She would bet that there were a lot of people around here who were absolutely terrified of him. He was so tall. And… dark. And different. The people around here were never big fans of the different. Krys supposed Erasmus was lucky to make a deal with her, one of the few people in Wind Reach who actually had an interest in those that were different. Realizing he only asked one more question, Krysanthe hesitated. “I… well…” She thought for a moment, biting her lip, clearly thinking. “I… might know a few stories. But I am really no master storyteller. I mean… Yeah, I know some stories. But I’d have to think about them a little. I’m not usually the one to tell stories.” She shrugged, realizing she had looked away from him some time during her swerving train of thought. She returned her eyes to him, somewhat amused by his curiosity. He really seemed to be enjoying himself. Krysanthe still just wanted to leave. They had a long, long walk to get out of here, and she was getting tired. Or at least, if he asked, that is what she would tell him.

[Erasmus]

Erasmus Life was so terribly unjust. Jaded, Erasmus was torn from his paradise by this young woman’s humanity… ‘What? Is the little child afraid of the dark?’ A twisted tenor mocked her in Erasmus’s dynamic view of the human race… yet another fraction of him seemed legitimately concerned… was she alright? Why so anxious? Why so tense? Why so uncomfortable? Kryssie, I thought I saw more in you! But not a word more, Erasmus! (He had to reprimand his excessively narcissistic personality quickly, in order to think with a clear state of mind.) Creature of the Cave-City noted the final hint of homesickness in Kryssie’s voice, breaking their short-lived connection with the eyes by quickly looking to the grass again to veil his disappointment. Such a motion probably made his reluctance a good deal more evident, but it only dawned on him afterwards that Kryssie wouldn’t be able to truly detect the betrayal of emotion in his eyes what with the deficiency of daylight. On the other hand, Kryssie was not senseless; she should feel flattered that the client lost himself in her first choice of sights… the symenestra was definitely not yet ready to leave. He distinguished the hour and the time it would take to return homeward, unenthusiastically agreeing she was accurate, in that it was time to depart such a sweet land of human obscurity… even if it pained him to have to say goodbye so hastily. Frankly, the fellow could have asked a million more questions, and still, his thirst for answers would not have been quenched. Dwelling on her responses for a little over a minute after her last word, he nodded in both comprehension of what she had articulated and compliance of the command she need not speak to make clear. “Alright,” stated the spider leaning against the mushroom. Ruefully, yet in unison, teasingly, he stood from his place of rest and offered her his ashen hand. “I have so many questions, my dear neighbor, and yet I come to the reality that there are only so many demands you can meet in a single day’s time… If you do not stop me every once and a while, I’ll go on forever. I sense that it’s probably time to retrace our steps from paradise to home?” With a reassuring smile, he knelt down in front of her so she could better make out his expression. “I just have one more question, Krysanthe… and you don’t have to answer right away. Actually, I’d prefer you didn’t…” He took another moment out of their time to form his impending lexis from the symenos in his mind to common. They were inches from each other… he seemed not to notice the total incursion of personal space he’d violated. In his defense, any farther and she wouldn’t have been able to see the formal apology written across his face. It was all quite innocent… for now. The traveler was quite proud of this question to be honest. He stood up, offering his hand yet again in a sign that he did not have to have an answer before they left the sweet haven. “Every race has its fault, its sordid factor… its ‘stain’ left to blemish the world. You and I are… well, I’d like to believe we are somewhat similar... akin to us sharing at least the same genus, wouldn’t you agree? It’s quite alright if you don’t think that way, but anyhow… my question is, what one thing could you change about this world of yours… if you could change anything from the people to the volcano to the buildings… what, in your personal opinion, would your culture have to lose or gain in order to become a little further up on the scale of perfection?" Erasmus felt he was being rather compliable in his mind … which, what's more, was also a strangely proud moment. He liked this new Erasmus… the one who could be sociable even in the midst of another antisocial creature… his denial of the wordless side of him both hurt and healed the psyche. Sleep would have to sort these thoughts out later. As they started to head back, Erasmus thoughtfully spoke to smooth out his question with an example of his own… it was only fair that he give her his answer in addition. Asking someone to tell another their own society’s largest fault surly required you to do the same. The man was not by any means practicing anything other than proper etiquette wen replying, "My answer would be… well, if I could change anything, I would change our reputation… which would in turn change the few individuals of my race who give us all an appalling repute. The ones who still participate in barbaric ceremonies and rituals that make enemies of people I’d like to be able to get to know some day… It’s not that I look down on tradition, but ‘tradition’ hardly means we’re bloodsuckers.”