don't be afraid.

[Kendall Saarinen]

Kendall was not sure what to believe when he listened to the girl speak. From what she was saying, it seemed as though the body that Kendall resided in did not belong to her. Why would someone want to destroy their own body? "I don't understand…" He watched her carefully, trying to figure out the situation in his mind. "Are you not the original… in lack of a better word, owner of this body?" He was confused and he wanted answers. While usually he was more quiet and reserved, he did not feel being quiet was going to get him his body back. "I mean…, why would you want to destroy your own body?" The way Alander looked at Kendall's body worried him. While he wanted nothing more than to return to his rightful body, he did not want harm to come to the one he was in. Maybe Hadrian had been right. He was starting to feel comfortable in this body, even if he yearned to be in his rightful one. Hadrian's words had been said better than Kendall's. While Kendall was driven by emotion, Hadrian was logical as always. Kendall quieted after the mage asked his question. He wanted to know the answer as well and he did not want his sharp words to stop Alander from answering Hadrian's question.

[Sondra]

At her proper name the Konti snarled. The seemingly inconsequential “K” was a token of a grandmother, home and purpose Sondra had decidedly abandoned. Testing the “woman’s” knowledge, Sondra answered in fluid Kontinese. “I find evil, unlike goodness, is never a veil. It is out of the abundance in the heart.” Surprisingly, Sondra had some grasp of eloquence in her native tongue. It slipped out of her like a purr, where her common was wielded like a mace. The Konti casually opened her palm on the table with a deceptively gentle smile for Alander. Her invitation had been bared and would remain indefinitely open. Thankfully, Hadrian was voicing the collective cloud of thought. Sondra would have pressed the point, but she doubted her methods would have met the general consensus. Talk of magic made her ears singe. To her it was the perversion of the natural world, fueled by a thirst for power. In her experience, a thirst for power rarely ended in sweetness and peace. Here was proof for her opinions: one body for another, sundered lives, powerful Djed and Res twisted by careless mortal hands. Gnosis was as natural as divinity, springing from a source of greater knowledge. What mages did was contort things to their liking with limited understanding. Alander seemed to be endowed with both self-importance and a taste for manipulation. The traits Sondra liked least, especially when on their tines. Its story better be compelling if she was going to raise a lash on its behalf.

[Caelum]

Alander tilted her borrowed eyes from one face to the next, little of her countenance communicating the giant's depth of an old, smoldering fury smoking within. It would be all too clear, that painstakingly controlled rage, to Kendall through the cursed gift of Ivak gripping at his soul. It was to that stain of fire entwined on Kendall's wrist that their hostess nodded, a thick coil of hair bobbing against the line of her jaw. "That is a larger piece," she allowed. A loud crash sounded from above stairs, bouncing down through the walls of the inn in much the same manner as had the footsteps. The chandelier chimed disjointedly above and Alander dropped her eyes to Sonda's open palm. A small, strange smile touched her mouth like a blade. "I am not the original owner of your present body, Kendall," she went on, addressing them in slow, measured tones though she continued to be fixated on the Konti's unspoken offer. To a person of Alander's ilk, it was more likely to be viewed as a silent threat. "That bitch will never find the ashes of redemption." Not, it would seem, if Alander had anything to do with it. "What would you wager, Sondra?" She wondered. Both of her hands remained flat on the pale tablecloth and though no breeze chose that moment to pirouette through the open windows, one of three candles in the heavy silver sticks on the table between them was snuffled out as if beneath the pinch of fingers. "Do you think if I am the one who stole the body of Kendall, daughter of Marie, daughter of Calchas, it would be among my greatest sins?" Hadrian was given a study from the corners of her eyes. "Would you, magicker?"

[Hadrian]

Hadrian leaned back in his chair, fingers steepling in front of his mouth as he regarded their host, this Alander Jin. The longer he steeped his senses in the aura before him, the more he could suss out. Unless, of course, the soul in Kendall's original body was a masterful Aurist as well, and could dampen, mask, and otherwise beguile with her very soul. His question was asked, but he figured Jin would tell what she wanted to tell, and more questions would only be answered once the initial show was over. Better to observe while the others pressed at her, allowing him more insight if he was lucky. But eventually he was addressed direction. A dark brow raised, chlorine blue eyes inappropriately amused. This mouse knew he was in a trap, or at best a maze. "Would I?" he asked. "I don't suppose we have much of a choice at this point but to take a chance on you." Kendall had said that there was an Animator behind it, that the blond male body was that of the apprentice, and if Alander Jin was neither the apprentice or the master, but some third party, then things had just gotten exponentially more complicated. "We are here in the festering heart of Ravok, come looking for the body you wear and those that stole it from Kendall. Call it revenge, call it retribution, call it justice. It doesn't matter. Enough games. Tell us what you are willing to tell us of your history and your goals and we will either play nicely together or, well, I imagine things could get ugly." It wasn't a threat; if he read this aura aright, Jin was either confident in her abilities to defend herself or she thought she had information that would stay their hands. After all, if they could overpower her and drag her back to Zeltiva, there was sure to be a professor at the University who could rip her soul from the mortal coil and give it back to its rightful owner. "Please?" he asked mildly. Being polite never hurt, and he didn't want his mother to return as a ghost to make sure he never spat in front of a lady or forgot to put on clean smallclothes on the off chance he died so the reputation of the Aelius family would not be tainted by unwashed underthings.

[Kendall Saarinen]

There was a strong anger that was hiding under Jin's strangely calm exterior. It was growling like a beast deep within her and Kendall could sense it. The flames would not tell him why she was angered, only that she was feeling the emotion. There were a couple reasons that came to mind as to why she would be so upset but for now Kendall would keep an eye on the emotion. At least until he knew what was causing it a bit better. Kendall did not have the slightest clue as to what Sondra was saying but he kept an eye on her none the less. He knew of the Kontis sharp tongue and he did not want it to get her in trouble if Jin could understand the language of the White Isle. The woman was a friend and in truth, the only female he had the chance of being around for an extended period of time for a while now. Jin's words worried Kendall. They had come all of this way and risked so much just to find the person they were looking for was just another victim. "Well, it would be good if you could explain what is going on then. Keeping us in the dark isn't helping anyone." He was pleased to hear Hadrian enforcing his words. Enough beating around the bush. They needed answers. A name caught Kendall by surprise. He knew his mother's name just as well as his own. Marie Saarinen. The name following it was a complete mystery to him. Calchas? His mother's father's name was Kieran. He would know, he was named after him. "Calchas? I think you are mistaken. My grandfather's name is…" He stopped before he finished his sentence. "Never mind that. How do you know so much about me?" The vast knowledge that Jin had on him worried the Azenth. How could anyone know this much about him?

[Sondra]

Sondra heard the brief sputter of the expelled candle, and the Azenth in her felt a strange significance in the action. “Perhaps it isn't your worst," She murmured in response, "But all grand sins are unimaginative after they cease to be gruesome, each springs from the same root of pride and selfishness.” Hadrian's promise of things getting ugly brought Sondra more relief than dread. At least it spoke of action and momentum instead of curling under the weight of unknowable threats and oppressive airs. If there was going to be a royal bout, so be it, anything was better than this pussyfooting around. This Jin thing had done its work, she could credit it with that. Kendall was getting a body blow with every one of its pronouncements. And there was some unknown "bitch" threading through the skein. This hatred seemed chief to Jin, making Sondra wonder if completing it was the purpose they were called for. The Konti leaned forward in her chair, moving some weight to the balls of her feet. Fight or flight, she didn't want to be caught on her ass in a pinch.

[Caelum]

For the thinnest of moments, confusion splashed across Alander's borrowed countenance. She stared at Kendall for several hearts longer than was necessary or normal. It was flung away with a sharp shake of her head before it could be absorbed, but it did not change the fact that it had been. "Calchas is your uncle's grandfather," she corrected in a tone of baffled apology, as if she could not understand how that error had been made. This was a very orderly soul, deliberate and self possessed enough to admirably control the functions of an alien body. That is it was admirable of Jin had not been inside this body long. "Delucia's father. That's right. Half siblings, him and Marie. Zaital. They're not ordinary creatures, but you would know that, wouldn't you, Kendall? Or should. Precious Zaital blood in your veins, or these veins. All this just to learn blood doesn't, in fact, tell..." She trailed off, fair brow wrinkling, and gave an abrupt shake to her arm. It rattled the china. Something creaked low and long from the statuary in the corners and a door in the hall slammed with a shriek of hinges as the young man who had taken their bags called, "Jin?" The remaining pair of candle flames in the center of the table wobbled wildly as a ghostly arm invisible to common sight lunged across the carefully laid meal to smack down atop Sondra's hand with more than enough force to hold her. Alander's physical hands remained flat and still at ease against the table top, though she rose half out of her seat to settle her frown upon the Sin Speaker. The extension of her astral body that had taken Sondra's hand was incredibly dense, like hard packed sand at the bottom of an dead sea. The vision unfurled like a night blooming flower within the asylum of Sondra's soul. A broad shouldered man stood tall on an ancient marble floor, dark hair unpainted and the streaks of silver shooting through it thereby displayed like badges or reminders. Shadows of faceless figures, perfumed and glittering, sprawled and stared from three sides of the image's edge and silence hung heavy as a hanged man, waiting while a woman's exacting voice repeated, "Did he do it, Alander? We will not ask again." Rich, black silk was smoothed of imaginary wrinkles beneath the standing man's hands as he gazed with kohl-lined eyes at the glimmering floor. Sunlight struck like a knife across sandal-clad feet. It caused a wince to his eyes, or maybe something else entirely was the cause. He breathed in. Finally, he looked up, jaw set and decided. "Yes," he said and the blurred edges of the room erupted. A man's voice cried out, thick with fury. "Liar! He's covering his petching ass! Can't you see? Can't any of you see? Liar! Let go of me! I can't go to that hell! You can't -- You'll get yours, Jin! You'll get --" "Silence," the disembodied female voice pronounced wearily. "Prepare him for his journey to Hai. As for you, Alander, you are hereby exiled for the duration..." The voices faded, the image rippled, swirled and threatened to gasp out. Yet in the moment before its death, right before the teeth of Sight ripped free, it snagged. Guttered. Heaved into the newly familiar shape of Xieroh's foyer where a black eyed, black haired man with a face so beautiful it ached glared at an anonymous figure caught in Vision black. Dawn was beginning to break through the tall windows and the wind, it still blustered off Ravok's canals. "Gone?" The man said. "The hell do you mean they're gone? Damnit, Jin. Damnit. Now what --" The vision cut off like a candle being snuffed out and the ethereal, iron grasp on Sondra's hand lifted. Two visions, two sins. Or were they? The first possessed the familiar taste of such, but the second, the second was looser, less detailed, as if it had not yet been done and yet still in the tomorrows it was touched by an entirely different light than sin. While these waking dreams stole Sondra from them, Alander was talking, her velvet eyes moving from one to the other and back again. Her dry accented voice was fierce but calm, leashed as the young man's footsteps grew louder in their approach in the hall. "I bought us time. Kendall, the boy you're wearing belongs to a boy whose name I never knew, who I never met. Dastik choose him for his face, for his youth, and took him long before we met. But it is the body Dastik wants back now that yours has proven a failure. The power of the gods might use familial blood as a vehicle, but it is not Their destination. Ivak has no use for this flesh with me in it. Your uncle tried to use Dastik and his magic when he learned what the man done with you, but fire walks with whom it will. Dastik is the true perpetrator of the crimes against you, and your uncle.. Misguided. Now listen to me --" It was then that Alander released the Sin Speaker and she remained standing, her shadow cast behind her longer than this body had earned. The young man with the cheek sliced with scar appeared in the doorway, eyes a little wide, a hand catching hard against the wooden frame. "This is Antony," Alander nodded towards the young man. "He is Dastik's apprentice, but our ally. He is that who wore Dastik's aged body when they stole yours, Kendall, and all of us are going to have to help each other if we're to see dawn. The time I bought us by bringing you here shortens." "Jin," Antony swallowed, hazel eyes a bit wild as they took everyone in. "Word from the docks. Delucia's caravan has been spotted by the Trading Post guards." He stumbled a step in, righting himself with the hand against the back of the last empty chair. The five of them formed a misshapen, but potent circle in the firelight. "He's back early." "I know so much of you through Antony. Keys to chavi aren't hard to obtain when you've been sleeping, eating, bathing at a friend's. Ask the rest of your questions," Alander ordered like the crack of a whip, girlish, musical voice unsuited. "Specific. Quick. Or leave if you wish, but I doubt you'll get far without us."

[Hadrian]

Hadrian's orderly mind was cataloging all that Jin shared, though it was tagged as suspect information. His Sense of things began to grow, and every time Jin misspoke, it sent shivers of uncertainty through and through her. Him. He glanced at Kendall at the pronouncement of an Azenth lineage, about the which he had only read. Neither Kendall nor Sondra had been particularly forthcoming about such things, and so he had left the matter well enough alone. "The magicians of the Azenth," he noted quietly. Zaital. It was a foreign word upon which he had not dwelt overmuch. The one time he had truly called to Ivak, the answer had been less than reassuring. Well, that helped explain his pyromancy. He then glanced at Sondra, sizing up the possibilities. He supposed she might be of the Suviak, though surely not all Konti Azenth were the tenders of submarine faults and volcanoes. But he tensed all along his body at the shimmering 'hands' of his aura stretched out, leaving his actual hands dim and deathly, snuffing candle flames and binding Sondra as shadowy things passed from one woman to the other. "Release her," he bit out, his own djed rushing about and accumulating, but he need not have bothered; Jin released Sondra of his own accord and was then introducing them to the scarred man, whose aura was open to Hadrian's reading as well. But he didn't have time to get to know the ins and outs of their souls' patterns, and so his readings remained somewhat superficial. "Alander Jin the Projectionist," he announced, "Antony the Dreamwalker, and Dastik the Animator. Delucia is another of your merry band, I presume." He stood up. "If we needs must move for safety's sake yet again, then let us do it and you can fill us in as we go. I would rather not die in Ravok." Of course, in another situation, he would have been working out the best way to finesse instruction out of these men, but the two here present (one being in a female body, of course) were suspect, and the others possibly even more dangerous. "It's a shame, really. I was enjoying supper."

[Kendall Saarinen]

Kendall didn't want to be here anymore. He didn't want to be in Ravok or anywhere near Sylira. He just wanted to get away from Jin and the entire region he had known his entire life. He was scared to death and he felt like an animal trapped in a corner. Some better informed creature knew all about him and he just had to sit there and take all of it in as if it was okay. The news just kept coming and coming. It wouldn't stop. It felt as though the structure of Kendall's life was being stripped away piece by peace. Just when he was starting to have things make sense to him again things were falling apart before his eyes. How could he have been one of the Zaital all along and never knew it. It was known that Azenth were usually linked by blood and heritage but he could not believe that his mother had Azenth blood in her all along. In fact, Kel, Layton, and Suanna would have Azenth blood in them as well if this all was true. Kendall was conflicted and it was clear to see on his face. There was a person in front of him wearing his skin, speaking with his voice, and telling him things about himself he never knew. He wanted to speak out and make everyone stop talking but he had to be polite. Everyone else was. He wanted to cry more than anything but he bit his lip trying to halt the words that were threatening to spill out. The blond's body was shaking and soon he could not even keep his tears back. "Stop… Please, just stop talking." He wanted to be anywhere except here. He did not want to see Jin sitting there in his body, using magic that Kendall was never allowed to learn. He thought he wanted answers but in truth, he just wanted to be ignorant. Something happened and it hurt but it was over. It could all be over if he just forgot about it and moved on. At least that is what he wanted to believe. He felt like a child who was craving control. His mismatched eyes bore into Jin. "You sit there in my body and you some how know everything about me." He gripped his head in his hands as the tears spilled down his cheeks. "I want to believe you can help but it all seems a bit too good to be true." Kendall looked to Hadrian and Sondra for reinforcement. Hadrian was always the most level headed of the group and Sondra was the brave warrior. Kendall felt weak and childish. He had his own skills of course. He could sling fire and write a poem or two but that was not much that could help them now. Hadrian's words made sense, they always did. He always seemed to be the best mouthpiece for the group. Kendall was far too emotional and Sondra tended to be a bit aggressive at times. With a shuddering breath the blond tried to compose himself. He could not meet the gaze of Jin or Antony as he spoke. He worried he might regret giving in but what other choice did he have? "I don't think I could eat now if I tried." He spoke, adding on to what Hadrian had said. "All of this is a lot to take in."

[Sondra]

The Konti flinched at the sudden, profound weight on her hand. It was like wearing the earth or trying to walk through river silt. Realizing the source, Sondra’s face turned flinty and her jaw set with a touch of daring. Anger gave her courage when all else faltered. To the rest of the table, Sondra might have been dreaming. Her eyes fluttered and expression flowed off her face, leaving a dazed passivity. It was an uncommonly heavy vision, traveling in tandem with other knowledge. Usually she could retain some temporal sense of self when speaking to another’s sins. Embedded in the vision, Sondra passed behind eyes or played the specter. Richness surrounded her but it felt like gilding on a spoilt fruit. Collective dread contorted the air and a man gnashed his teeth at the room, his eyes full of fever. And there stood the source: broad, dark haired and treacherous. Pangs of Alander’s emotions made slits in Sondra’s own heart before passing into nothingness. She felt the final stab of decisiveness as Alander spoke another’s terror and despair into being. A false witness, breathing out lies. But for what purpose? The vision was beginning to abate, drowning in Jin’s consciousness. Sondra readied to breathe free air, but the gift was unfinished. It slouched onward washed in greater confusion. The dark-eyed man was beautiful, but it was a merciless beauty, piercing those who dared look for acknowledgment within it. They were Gone, gone and Jin had lost them? Hid them? She could not tell whether it was better to be lost or found by this man with the Ethaefal face. Sondra stood up, her eyes were sharp but her motions almost stately. A remainder of the touch of the goddess. “Petch not eating. I’m taking this bit with me.” Of course her mouth immediately betrayed any sense of poise. Sondra proceeded to pocket bread and whatever else she could carry. “And I-,” she fumbled with the later vision, “I’m with Hadrian,” she scrutinized Alander’s face as she spoke, “I think we need to leave Xieroh’s now.” Hadrian’s observation were half-heard. She had no context for the names or meaning to hang on them. As of now, they were just more mages with the power to petch them up in creative and obscene ways. “Here’s a question,” she snapped at Jin as she was gathering her things, “The black-eyed man. Who is he?”

OOC: Apologies for tardiness!