A blast from the past [Ifran]

[Nyahna Sasin]

"The art of the Alvads?" Sasin asked curiously. "Which one would that be? Music? Theater? Illusions? Magic?" The ability to survive insanity? He didn't vocalize that one, for obvious reasons. "This part of the world is warm enough. I once made the mistake of going up north to Ravok. Nearly froze my scales off." That had been bad. Very very bad.

"At any rate, how go things in Ahnatep? Plague of locusts, Benshira invasion, Pillars of Dust exploded? It's been a few years since I was in Eyktol, and the last piece of news I heard about Ahnatep was… Actually, there hasn't been any news." Except for one drunk who said that Eyktol fell into the sea, among other things. Or was it a Pycon fell in the streets? He shrugged, taking a drink.

"Drunks can spew out the most coherent nonsense sometimes." He mused.

[Ifran]

"In my case," he averred, "their theater, which includes music and dance, and illusion as well. So many of them seem to wield that power. I suppose I feel at a disadvantage, which is strange, considering they are only human." To his mind, a Dhani had divine lineage too, from scaly Siku. She was not a goddess with whom he had a spiritual link, but he respected her as any desert dweller respected the strength and wisdom of the serpent. "I would not mind bringing the power of illusion back to the stages of Ahnatep. Hm, no, I do not think I would enjoy Ravok at all. "When I left, Ahnatep was much as she always is, glittering in partial ruins upon the southern sea. Little changes, really. My people are content with the passage of time having little effect on them." He might change that when he returned, alchemizing their sedentary lives into something worthy of their divine heritage. "To be honest, if sea or sand swallowed Ahnatep, I suppose only the traders would notice."

[Nyahna Sasin]

He nodded in acknowledgment. "This is Ionu's city. It makes sense for a god to pay more attention to the people in their own area." Unlike Eypharians, Dhani put little to no stock in the idea of divine lineage, although Sasin could understand why they were so proud of their blood. Still he had to agree. There was something… humbling, being around people who could change the appearance of the world with just a thought.

He cocked his head to the side at Ifran's words. Very insightful. He hadn't realized an Eypharian noble could be so… grounded. He definitely liked this one. "I assume the people swallowed up, and the survivors would notice. And the Benshira and Chaktawe would doubtlessly wonder what had happened." He joked. "I suspect a great many scholars would find the sudden lack of wadj upsetting. And also the beer" He added, raising his mug. "Eypharian beer would be sorely missed."

[Ifran]

"Yes, well, the Benshira would finally be free." They were free, or most of them were, but most of those Ifran had met still had the mindset of slaves, and so he thought of them as slaves. The Chaktawe were the strange bird people of the deep desert, an interesting sidenote, but of little importance in his life. "And they would miss our textiles and beer, it is true." He smiled at Nyahnasasin. "I do need to keep you around, my new friend, to remind me of my people's continued glory." There was humor to it, almost self-deprecating, but still proud. "I would not want them to think I had lost touch with my culture by moving away for a time. I had better not be here next Winter. This cold will be the death of me."

[Nyahna Sasin]

"And map makers. They wouldn't be very happy." He mused. "Freedom? Perhaps. I've seen freed slaves before. They tend to be a little… off."

He smiled slightly at Ifran's words. "A short separation could be a good thing. Step out of your world, and things will look different when you step back in." Half advice. "Just keep in mind which world you belong in." Half warning.

Sasin no longer belonged in the nest, if he ever had. He had accepted that a long time ago. He had gone so far from his home, seen and done so many things he had never imagined possible then, that going back to the simple life he had lived was no longer possible.

Whether he was better or worse off for it, he didn't know.

[Ifran]

He smiled indolently at Sasin's jest. Snakes and Eypharians knew the value of languor. "I do not speak often of slaves here. My views are not shared by many outside of Eyktol, and that is fine. When I return, I will have my slaves again. I am not a cruel master. If a slave wanted to leave my service, and I thought they might be able to live on their own, I would not be adverse to coming to some agreement whereby they might earn their freedom." He shrugged the topmost pair of shoulders. "And that is my fear," he admitted. "That when I return, I will not be Eypharian enough, while here I am too Eypharian. Too foreign. Too different, which is the strangest thing in a city where one's imagination can paint over reality. At least one with Ionu's favor. "Are you such a one, friend Nyahnasasin? A homeless nomad? Shall we be countrymen if Ahnatep finds me wanting, or vice versa?"

[Nyahna Sasin]

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I suppose," He said hesitantly "being anything enough is a matter of opinion. In your case, does being Eypharian enough means being able to return to Ahnatep and be satisfied with it as it is? I should think you are at least a little unsatisfied if you've come out here for any amount of time. Does is mean being able to understand how your country works? How your countrymen think? Being able to fit in with them?"

"You are so different and foreign here because you are an Eypharian. Not just in body, any illusionist can do that. Everything about you reminds people that you belong in a world unfamiliar to them, a world you will go back to." He was wandering into the land of wild mass guessing now, but he felt fairly confident in his assessment.

"Are you afraid you will return to Ahnatep less then you were? Or simply different? I believe the Pressorah has demonstrated quite well how different does not always equal inferior. The blood of royalty, tempered by the life of the common folk. She is now one of the best rulers Ahnatep has ever had, something she would not be had she been raised "properly", am I correct?" He paused for a moment. "She is still highly regarded, right? That hasn't changed? I assume not."

"As for myself…" He grinned sheepishly. "I go where the wind and weather takes me. I think, however, you will not be joining me, not if you still harbor worries of not belonging. It's when you stop caring that you change irreversibly. "

[Ifran]

Though quick of wit, Ifran let these words settle in his mind, gems drifting slowly to the bottom of a lake, sparkling as they went down. Finally he nodded. "You speak wisely, I think," he averred. "Barring any fundamental changes, I will return to Ahnatep one day. Then I will see how I have changed more clearly, and life will continue. The Pressorah is well regarded, yes, though she, like all rulers, has enemies. I am not one of them." Of course not. His grandfather had put her on the throne, and was responsible for her wisest decisions, but it was not polite to point out such things, even if respect for his elders was important, and his patriotism. "Perhaps I am not a son of the wind, then." There was genuine regret in his voice, an artful pang. "But I am glad that it has tossed you here and into my path, and I hope it will again. You have been a bright spot in the dizzying array of Alvadas. I am glad to have met you. "Not that I am getting ready to quit your presence."

[Nyahna Sasin]

He couldn't be that drunk already, could he? Sasin honestly had no idea why he had made that little speech, or where the words had come from. Certainly, the Viper was unused to thinking or speaking so… philosophically. And so eloquently. Especially in Arumenic, this language of layers he had used only sparingly in the last few years.

He listened as Ifran spoke, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin at the Northwinds' comment. Son of the wind indeed. A neat pun, if it had been intended as such.

"And I you." For once, he spoke without a trace of irony or sarcasm, honestly glad to have run into the Eypharian. It had been a long time since he had been this engaged in conversation.

"I must be a very bright spot to show up in the whirling colors." He joked. "I wonder if this is what Dusk Eaters see all the time." Glancing out the window (had it relocated? Sasin wasn't quite sure), he blinked twice, then turned back to Ifran.

"Do you ever feel like certain illusions follow you? This is the third time I've seen multi colored spiders."

[Ifran]

"Yes," he said slowly. "I think the city is self-aware, or else an extension of Ionu. In which case, the city is aware of us, sends its illusions to communicate with us, perhaps. Multicolored spiders? This is the first I have seen of them." He paused. "Do they frighten you?" The question was not asked with any sort of disdain; he assumed that assassins feared things too, else they would not have survived so long. Fear was a survival trait. Killing it was unwise; mastering it, that was good. "I have always imagined that the dreams of the Dusk Eaters must eventually turn into nightmares, but the nightmares are old, comforting friends compared to the reality they leave behind. Drugs are meant for diversion, not constant consumption. Hedonism is all well and good, but requires moderation if one wants to live a long and fruitful life. "Ah, do spiders hold any great significance to you, friend Nyahnasasin?"