A Light At The Watchtower (Stitch, Tarot pls)

[Malia]

Location: Syliras Watchtower Timestamp: 83rd of Winter, 509 AV o be honest, Malia hadn’t expected that it would turn out this way. Of course, it was only natural since she had never done an excursion with children before. Perhaps she had underestimated their energy which wasn’t surprising for a Nuit who had lived on short supply of just that for about two centuries. Anyway, there she was, following the children up the narrow mountain path, feeling the weight of a backpack with her notebook and a few other necessary things on her shoulders and inconspicuously observing Stitch. As soon as she was sure that his limited sight could handle the rocks and tiny bumps disturbing the path, she concentrated on the children and the landscape. Beneath them Syliras was visible, a massive castle lying in the plain and stretching towards the sky. It seemed so proud, so strong even from the distance, although the Cobalt Mountains always towered over it and the Bronze Wood embraced it from almost all sides. It so much looked like the last and first hub of civilization, culture and knowledge after the Valterrian. Actually Malia was surprised, but also touched by its old, simple beauty. During moments like that every part of her body hoped that she would live as long as such cities to witness the rise and fall and ever-constant change of its cultures shaped and maintained by the living. Because, although she supposed that Nuit could establish their own culture if they tried, she knew that at least the wizards of Sahova were obsessed with their idea of creating life out of dead things. She felt a strange fascination for that discipline herself … but that was a story for another day. They had purposefully chosen a day that was blessed by Syna’s light and lacked any clouds at the sky. Malia had helped Fentya prepare snacks at the previous evening and learned a few things about the amount of food men – even the younger ones – apparently needed. One bell before Syna rose above the horizon they had passed the city gates and walked towards the Cobalt Mountains. Their destination, however, was a slightly different one. The Watchtower of Syliras was always visible during their journey, shaped like a lowercase h as if its tower was watching the small group approaching. While admiring its structure that was one of the few remains that had survived the Valterrian and at the same time keeping an eye on the children, Malia suddenly remembered what she had found out about its story. She had to admit that Stitch who had grown up in Syliras knew many stories about its history and origins, but this time she had prepared accordingly. Her notebook was filled with lines about Priskil and Aquiras, the divine lovers whose story was related to the Watchtowers, but she could recall almost each line out of her trained Nuit memory. Turning to the children, she said: “I might have a good story or two about the Watchtower system. Are you interested?”

[Stitch]

Stitch strode along, his head jerking to and fro, observing every single inch of the broad landscape in his own personal, private way. The variety and multitude of colorful aura's assaulted him, not in a painful or overbearing way, but in a show of unique beauty that only he and his sight could fully perceive. The child-like wonder was evident on his face, only growing as each new piece of the landscape revealed itself to him. The looming towards of Syliras were the most breathtaking from the heights they were at, and it's aura was a massive blot on the landscape. It had been here for quite a long time, and Stitch could tell. The auras of it and the surrounding landscape blended in perfectly, as if they had long ago found an acute harmony with one another. The resulting visual melody was a pleasurable sensual overload that Stitch reveled in. This sight of his revealed such a beautiful world. The forests were a brighter green than ever before, the castle of Syliras swirled with the colors of the life within it, and the sky was a most brilliant blue. Even the air had the smallest shimmer of an aura, a faint, light sparkle to a trained eye.

It wasn't particularly by Stitch's own skills that he was managing to traverse the sloped mountain path. Trish and Damien were on either side of him, lightly hanging onto his hands by his own demand. Even if they were shackled to his guardian grip, they had been obedient children, and made the best out of the situation. If they could not go exploring for monsters to slay, then they would stay by Stitch's side, and protect him from such imagined monsters. Perhaps the rocks on the ground were really toe eaters in disguise! With slight tugs of the blind man's hand, they guided him up the slope, trying to pick out the best steps for Stitch to take. Fentya was in front, slightly behind Malia. Her influence on the situation was minor, but important as well. Malia might notice it, the young girl was lightly nudging larger pebbles off the path, removing them from Stitch's way. They were truly a dedicated bunch, and no matter how rowdy they might happen to get, they truly loved who they considered to be their father.

Stitch's pleasant, soft voice slowly spoke, his current distractions obvious by the faraway tone that he used. "Milady, would this one be able to carry your bags for you? This one could likely use some more work, and milady wouldn't have to struggle." He had packed a bag for himself, some personal candies that he enjoyed, as well as a few other little odds and ends. Fentya had convinced Stitch to let her and Malia pack the meals, so Stitch had been left to pack the water. Each of them had a small waterskin, pulled from the dusty closets of the Welcome Home. Apparently Stitch and the children didn't go hiking, all that often.

The blind man turned his magical attention the Watchtower, noting how different it was from other towers. It wasn't just the shape, although that itself was quite unique. There was something in the aura that was different, odd, off kilter. He didn't really know how to explain it. For being such an old tower, and for being made of stone, it had quite the bright aura around it. He knew it was gifted with quite a bit of magic, but even the magic felt foreign. Unique. Beyond his understanding. The deep green gem that was suspended at the very tip of the tower was something Stitch did not even dare to look at fully, or even acknowledge. He could feel it on the edge of his vision, and part of him knew it would blind him. For real, this time.

Malia offered to tell the story of the tower, and Stitch was sharply brought back to reality, snapping his head over to her to offer her one of the most brilliant smiles ever produced from the man. "Of course, this one would love to! This one is already quite curious to hear the history behind such amazing objects, this one knows a few bits and pieces, basics here and there, but not much else." The children chuckled and nodded their agreement, amused by Stitch's over-eagerness, but quite used to it by now.

[Malia]

CopyrightAngela Aki, "Tegami"

Malia watched her companions with silent amusement. They were an almost comical group, the blind man with his head turning into every possible direction in awe and the kids who tried to maneuver him through the stony path they were following. Of course, Fentya followed her own more subtle ways as ever, but even she couldn’t deny her worry for Stitch. Amazing how love could show and how far it could reach. They were a beautiful image.

Malia almost felt out of place, hadn’t she been standing in the kitchen with Fentya, hadn’t she prepared the backpacks together with all of them. Hadn’t she asked that question. But she had spoken and now she would face the consequence of being drawn into that beautiful, loving relationship with them. She didn’t understand … Sometimes she just didn’t understand.

Sometimes Cheva seemed more powerful than even Tanroa … but then, Malia knew that their ways would part and they would find their own ways of life soon enough. And then, nothing would remain but memories. Tanroa would win in the end. That was what she had chosen to believe.

When Stitch politely asked her about the backpack, she looked back with eyebrows raised in surprise. It was obvious that she hadn’t even considered the weight at her shoulders. Although she really hadn’t packed much, she was already starting to feel the first hint of muscle pain. How could that be? Apart from the fact that she was a physically weak Nuit, how had she managed to wander through forests and wilderness without any problems when she was now struggling with a small backpack? She slowly shook her head. “I am sorry, but I have to reject your offer. There’s a bag on your back as well, have you forgotten? Don’t worry, I’m fine.” And she really was. She wouldn’t have any major problems in the next few chimes. Plus, the way up to the Watchtower wasn’t that long.

Stitch’s bright smile quite surprised her … She hadn’t seen such a beaming smile in a while, and never from him, and specifically never directed towards her. However, she didn’t manage much more than another raised eyebrow in turn. Why was he smiling so much? Why was he behaving like that? Malia wondered if she ever solved that riddle. Not for the time being, that much was sure.

But she gladly started retelling the facts she had gathered and tried to dress them in pretty, fitting words. After all, the story was romantic and beautiful and all that. Even Malia found that she liked it, the prime example of a fairytale … although it was a fairytale gone bad. “Before the Valterrian Priskil and Aquiras were lovers. They didn’t need anything but the love they gave each other, so unlike the other gods they helped humans for free. The Watchtower system which was developed during that time was a tribute what they could achieve together. They helped where they could because they wanted to make the world a better place and wanted that everyone could experience a love as deep as they felt. Both knew that love was stronger than any power gods or humans could gain. But then, tragedy struck.” As always, Malia thought as her deep, empty eyes met the fresh blue sky. “Sagallius, court mage of the Alahean Empire, cheated on Aquiras and suddenly stole his heart. Nobody was prepared, nobody had expected it. He came upon the lovers and destroyed their relationship in a single second. Priskil, of course, was devastated. She had lost everything that had made her life beautiful … Of course she was devastated. But Priskil also was a very strong personality, so she acted quickly and carried Aquiras into a dark astral corner of his own Watchtower system. Hidden in that corner she protected his lifeless body from the Valterrian. It was because of her strength and intelligence that they survived that event.” She paused for a while to wet her dried mouth and give the others a moment of contemplation.

“Since then Priskil has protected Aquiras and never given up hope that one day she would defeat Sagallius and get Aquiras’ heart back. However, she is more pacifist than warrior … She isn’t naïve, but very modest. I think the word that describes her best is purity.” Purity a Nuit would never be able to represent. Nuit were manifested darkness, born of the blurred shadows between life and death, walking the world of the living, but at the same time already connected with Lhex’ realm through dead bodies. “So that’s the story of Priskil and Aquiras. The Watchtowers have become a sign for her neverending hope. She has many followers, although she can give very little.”

She glanced to Stitch, wondering what he thought about the story. Why had he even voiced the idea of visiting the Watchtower? It certainly was a good idea to have a more interesting history lesson for the children, but Malia sensed that that wasn’t the only reason. For the time being, however, she stayed silent. After she had finished, they had almost reached the base of the tower.