[Living Quarters, Room 511] A Reunion of Brothers

by **Alric Wilmot** on June 4th, 2012, 1:18 am

48th of Summer 512 AV

...I am staying in the University, dorm room 511...

Alric walked down the hallway in a mild state of euphoria. All his life he had lived in Alvadas, a confusing place that while interesting, thwarted attempts at learning about it. In fact, it seemed as though it intentionally destroyed attempts at understanding. But this place, Zeltiva it was called, was so dedicated to learning that Alric was still in awe.

Alvadas was still his home mind you, but this place... well, it was no mere happenstance that had led him here. Of course, he knew that Wrenmae had beckoned him. Miro had too. But Alric had yet to find Miro, as he had not left him instructions in the letter he had sent. Wrenmae on the other hand, had proven much more wise. It had taken a few days to settle in, and another one to find out what the University was. But Alric had come as soon as he could.

He held Wrenmae's letter in his hand. He re-read it occasionally, but he had read it so often on the voyage that he had nearly memorized it. His brother was in some sort of trouble. He could not make out what kind through the letter alone, but he had his suspicions.

For nearly two seasons I was imprisoned at the mercy of a man called Breaker for reasons I hesitate to speak of in ink. Something happened in that darkness, Alric, something I thought never would...

Alric was worried. He was not the most noble of men, and was highly manipulative. But he did care for his family, related by blood or not. Wrenmae needed help, and whether he knew it or not, Alric was probably the best person to help him. At least, if Alric's hypothesis was correct. It sounded, from the rest of the letter that Wrenmae had a malady of the mind. The sort of thing Alric often helped treat before his induction into the Womiyu.

Of course, he had only ever dealt with mild cases. What Wrename had wrote about however, was beyond Alric's experience.

...I am no longer in full control of my faculties. I wake up with the smell of blood on my hands and I’m terrified to sleep, terrified I’ll wake up again with weeks missing...

Alric shook his head. He would be able to help. He had to believe that. If he didn't, he might as well not have come. Alric lifted his head as he noticed something. To his right was a door with the number 511 on it.

With a weak, but genuine smile, Alric knocked.

by **Wrenmae** on July 6th, 2012, 10:04 pm

Outside his room, waves crashed against distant shores. He had awoken today and not moved, staring out the window as the sun rose past it and hung motionless above Zeltiva. There were no visitors, the sound of coughing or sneezing students walking by his door barely coaxed him from his despondent state.

He was looking across the room, the folded Wave Guard clothes and shield set neatly on the back of his desk chair. The last thing he remembered was the docks, being pummeled mercilessly by brutish thugs. His gold was stolen, wasn’t it? His body ached still, but it was barely an issue any longer. Most of the bruises had faded and only slight pangs of pain followed his prodding exploration. Days, weeks, he’d lost them all.

Folding his hands together, Wrenmae took the long dagger from beneath his pillow and laid it on his lap. He stared at it for a few moments, really looking at it. Its design was flawless, or at least it was to him. The sheath and blade were both nicked and scratched from use, the hint of dark mars on the cold iron told a story of its purpose. In a single motion, Wrenmae brought the blade from its sheath, turned the point around to face his chest, and placed the point against his beating heart. Zan immediately rattled around inside his body, trying in vain to emerge.

Wrenmae swallowed hard and pushed the dagger against his skin, piercing it and drawing blood. Zan quieted immediately.

“Whoa there cap, watch where you point that thing, huh?”

“How long?” His voice quivered slightly, his grip unsure on the hilt, “How long was I gone?”

“Not as long as last time,” the familiar supplied helpfully, “Don’t even worry about it. Come on, we haven’t gotten anything to eat yet. I know a hungry stomach when I see it…and I live in yours, so…yeah, let’s get lunch.”

“Did I hurt anyone?”

Zan was quiet.

“Did I hurt anyone?!” The shout surprised the familiar who roiled around within his master’s stomach, nervously pondering out an answer. Deep thinking wasn’t a Sarawanki specialty, so instead it reacted poorly to the interrogation.

“Not…erm..well, I mean..”

“Gods…” the dagger shook in his hands, falling from those trembling digits and clattering onto the dorm floor. “Gods…what is wrong with me? What is WRONG with me?”

Zan had no answer for him and the hypnotist fell back onto his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was over. He couldn’t keep doing this. There was no more safety, no more understanding. He was a monster, a crazed sorcerer that could no longer control his actions. He had to end it…end himself, it was the only way.

And it was then that Alric opened the door, like a vision sent from the hands of Lhex himself. At first, Wrenmae couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t see Alric. There was some sort of shattering tremor in his mind that refused to believe the man was there. He couldn’t be, not so coincidentally at the time of Wrenmae’s greatest conflict. It simply defied the powers of rational explanation.

“Alric?” Wrenmae asked, eyes wide, sitting up straight on his bed, “It…it can’t be.”