Perchance to Dream (Drusilla)

[Zhol]

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Liquify.

Amidst the embarrassing prospect of Drusilla's deductive skills somehow concluding who Khara was without him ever saying, and alongside the touching offer of aiding him in earning his windmarks - which reminded him so much of another sister he'd once had - there came that word. Zhol had no idea that Symenestra were capable of such things; it formed a paradox in his mind. Here he was, with quite possibly the most deadly individual he had ever encountered, and yet he couldn't think of anyone with a more open heart and a kinder soul. If there was ever proof that what you were didn't define who you were, here she was.

Something shifted in his demeanour; some new accepted truth that chased away the lingering doubts and insecurities - not gone forever, but at least gone for now. "I don't need to earn windmarks," he said, his words slightly less confident than he would have hoped. "I am not in Endrykas anymore; I don't need their approval or acceptance, and I don't need their signs and status. I have other things now. I have -"

He frowned, but the smile that had formed on his features didn't fade. "If I am Versda," he asked, "Then what is 'sister'?"

Despite all of Drusilla's efforts to lift his spirits, and those of the massage to relax and ease his tension, Zhol couldn't help feeling exposed as he abandoned the towel and slipped into the heated water of the pools. He shuffled uncomfortably, aiming his gaze at anything other than what he might accidentally see through the water. Almost as if she sensed how badly he needed distracting, his new sister began her questions anew.

"I suppose the name is poetic," he replied, smiling as she asked a question that had often bothered him as a child. "The heart of Cyphrus is a vast, rolling expanse of grassland. When the wind blows, it moves the grasses in waves, undulating like a vast ocean. It is a strange name, but one that fits, I think." He shrugged. "As for food, we hunt and forage what we can from the local area; because the city moves, each region has a full year to recover before we return. We breed livestock too, and herd it with us as the city moves; in fact, aside from a few small details, Endrykas is much like any other city you might visit. There are taverns, markets, craft houses, kitchens; they are just in tents made of canvas, rather than buildings made of stone. Or caves," he conceded, with a nod to their surroundings. "As for how they bathe -"

His voice trailed off. Not in giant exposed, all too naked bathhouses, that was for sure. He allowed his smile to take on a mischievous, teasing air. "I'm afraid that there are some Drykas secrets that I simply cannot share. It would ruin the mystery!"

"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.

[Drusilla]

"If you are sure, I get the feeling that even though you aren't with the Drykas you would still like to do these things. Perhaps not for visible windmarks but for the feeling of accomplishment. To harvest it for trophies, and to make pretty things from it." Drusilla asked. "Sister, huh? Give me a tick, it wasn't a word I used often... Sa- no. Ah. Sister." Drusilla nodded to herself, "That's it!" Drusilla sat and listened to Zhol, "So, there isn't any water, it's just the way the grass moves? I was going to say, how do you put tents up in the water? I guess that makes more sense...Fine don't tell me, I'll find out some day! A moving city... it seems like a crazy concept to me. But then again I did spend half of my life living in a cave..." She smiled in embarrassment, "I still remember the first time I saw a tree and grass and everything you got to see everyday... I was twelve and it was one of the most amazing things I'd ever seen! A new world full of colors and smells. But it was so bright! But I guess I adapted the sun doesn't bother me anymore." "You said you dabbled in reimancey? If you ever learn to manipulate water, I'd love to learn. If you would be willing to teach..."

[Zhol]

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"Maybe," he conceded, though there was a little hesitance in his voice. Hunting glassbeaks and crafting them into, well, anything really, were feats far beyond him. Even before the pavilion, he'd been a constant disappointment to his father: a member of the Ruby Clan too inept to craft anything. It wasn't for lack of trying, but everything Zhol touched turned to syke. He couldn't carve wood to an even flat surface; couldn't cut cloth without it turning mismatched and asymmetrical; couldn't sew a single stitch without it looking like it had been done by a mentally challenged, inept, ham-fisted child. That was where his skill with horses had come from: not because he was better than the others, but because he was the lowest, and because he wasn't capable of doing anything better.

More than that though, his mind challenged the premise: would he even seek to fell a glassbeak at all? In Endrykas it was a feat worthy of prestige, praise, songs, and celebration; but would anyone in Wind Reach be impressed in the slightest? Would she?

Her mention of reimancy drove his mind deeper inside his thoughts because of the other her it reminded him of: not Khara, a description for whom he could not fathom; but Dinah, his sister, with her kind heart, her glassbeak pendant, her control of water that put his measly reimantic abilities to shame, and her foul temper that was as ferocious as any creature Zhol had ever heard named. Perhaps that explained his lack of terror in the face of Drusilla, of the huntress Azira, the dangers of the riots, and all the other challenges he'd faced since coming here: when you were accustomed to looking past Dinah's attitude to see the heart of gold beneath, doing so with a Symenestra wasn't nearly such a struggle.

"Reimancy is -" he began, struggling to find a way to put it into words. "It's a very -" It wasn't an easy concept to describe. You could explain it, and someone could accept the premise and understand the rules, but to truly know what it was you had to understand what it felt like to tear off a chunk of your soul and manifest it into reality. Zhol hadn't realised what the gift he had accepted entailed; and knowing what he did now, he wasn't entirely sure that he would accept it if offered again.

He released a slow breath, and allowed his eyes to glaze over, his mind visualising the swirling, inky blackness of the djed that lay inside him. In his imagination he shoved his hand deep inside, withdrawing a tiny pool of fluid in the palm of his hand. He brought it to his lips and swallowed, and like the burning warmth of raw alcohol he felt it course through his body, ignoring his other limbs and focusing on his arm. It spiralled down, as he blinked to clear his vision he saw for the first time the patterns that it momentarily etched beneath his skin, coursing across his flesh as if it were the ink of the windmarks he'd never received. It coalesced in his palm, and through force of will he commanded it to rise, straining to maintain his concentration as it formed a tiny orb afloat above his hand.

"This is res," he explained, his words released with a slight effort as he strained to keep his mind focused and empty, willing the res to be nothing but a harmless sphere. "Simply put, it is liquid djed; a tiny piece of my soul torn off, squeezed through my pores, and gathered here."

He let the image in his mind alter, and watched as in sync with his imagination the surface of the orb burst into flames, hovering there like the fire of some wickless invisible candle. He held it there a few moments longer before letting the centre of the sphere ignite as well, and allowing his hand to fall, the burning res following in it's wake and sizzling into harmless nothingness in the water of the pool. His entire body slumped, as if he'd just sprinted the entire length of the warrens; the fatigue in his mind deepened, and pleaded to him not to place it under any more strain.

"Everything a reimancer does requires res in some quantity," he explained, recovering his breath. "The more complex the spell, the more res is required; the more djed you must tear from your soul to create it." He placed a hand on his chest, his attention turning to focus on Drusilla's eyes, only her eyes, and absolutely nothing else. "I am unskilled, and my djed replenishes slowly. If I try to do too much, if I overgive, it could kill me; or worse, far more horrific things. As I practice, my soul recovers more quickly; even that paltry effort is exhausting and draining, but not nearly as much as it would have been in the past."

His voice faltered. "But the soul is not meant to be able to do this; not naturally. To unlock this ability -" He refused to use the word gift. "- a reimancer had to flood my body with res, had to pour their soul into me, and after enduring an agony that felt worse than the death - which it could also have caused - my soul learned to make res of it's own."

His eyes fell away. "I am not even remotely skilled enough to initiate you," he admitted, "But even if I were, I do not think I would even then. I cannot imagine being responsible for inflicting that much suffering on another living soul; especially not my - He offered a small smile. "- sister."

"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.

[Drusilla]

Drusilla face was painted with awe, watching the orb dance above Zhol's hand. It was amazing. The way it swirled... Then she watched as it changed shape it looked like a ghost fire. She was listening to Zhol although she wasn't registering it not yet. She watched as the small fire died in the depths of the pool's water. His words began to have meaning. One word more than the others. "Djed..." She moved her hand to cradle her wrist almost absentmindedly. Somehow her wrist seemed to remember the meaning of that word..."Ivak... He was wiped from the Inarta's minds and memories. But I remember... I remember too well. I remember his storm that came from this very city. The birds fell silent and the sky was a twisting of colors. Something unnatural. Tunnels began to collapse and fire filled the sky. I fell. I fell from high up and broke my ankle and wrist in the fall. My bones are hollow I honestly should of died, so many did. But the strange static, like a tingling in the air... That orb gave it off too." She shook her head. From killing my mother at birth, to my step-mother, to seeing the body of the woman who bore my twin siblings tossed away like garbage, to my pilgrimage here, to Ivak's wrath, to seeing the god of the wind, to the riots, and everything in between... Not much terrifies me and I have felt every meaning of the word pain. Ivak bathed me in djed this entire city was. This horrible initiation doesn't scare me. I should be dead how many times over, but I'm not." A grin found it's way to her face. "There have been summers where being able to channel water would of saved lives. If I could save a life, I don't mind any pain I might need to endure. I've given my life to saving others mainly from the Symenestra but any way I can help... Dear brother, such short time and yet worried for me already.." With a smile she messed up Zhol's hair, "It means much to me, thank you. I mourn for the family who let you go."

[Zhol]

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It was a long time since anyone had treated him that way - ruffled his hair, treated him with such overt affection; years, at least. At first he struggled to recall who it had been, and then wished he hadn't: not some member of his family, not a parent or sibling, but a gruff old hunter he scarcely knew who had still managed to act like more of a father to him than his own ever had. It was a sobering realisation, but an educational one; now, just as then, family meant something different, something more than just kin. It was much more than shared names, shared homes, and shared ancestry. Family didn't end with blood; that was only the beginning.

"You don't think you deserve to be saved?" A worried frown tugged at Zhol's brow. It was a troubling notion, if true. "Haven't you already endured enough?"

"Being willing to make sacrifices to save another is noble enough," he conceded, "But wait until the time comes, don't seek it out. Your life and wellbeing have meaning as well, and you deserve to be spared further suffering just as much as anyone else deserves to be saved."

His eyes fell. "If it is what you want, I'll help you find someone who can perform the rite, but -" He offered an apologetic smile. "- if you're hoping for me to do it, you're in for a long wait. Were I to try now, with the skills I currently have?" He sighed. "I'd probably kill us both."

"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.

[Drusilla]

Drusilla shifted her gaze as Zhol spoke like a child being reprimanded and knowing what they did was wrong. She opened her mouth to speak but, quickly closed it on second thought. It had been awhile sense anyone had spoken to her like this. Or if they had it hadn't hit her like Zhol's words did. They made her stop, and think hard about herself. Not even Turrin could do this. No, but there was one other who had this power. Her father. "Perhaps I should study up on remancy first better understand it. There are many more questions that need answering and we're getting pruney from the water. Do you choose your element of does it choose you? Will I ooze lava or dirt or water? Now come one we should dry off." As she dressed Drusilla pondered over everything new information had been provided to here in many categories. Things she had never thought of horses, magic, and people who lived in a sea of grass. "Take this as you will Zhol, but somehow you remind me of my father...He was, is, a good man. I miss him. He thinks I'm dead." Now fully dressed she waited for Zhol, intent on walking him to his quarters.

[Zhol]

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Do you choose your element of does it choose you?

Zhol wasn't sure how to answer that question. It seemed so simple, and was yet so complex at the same time. He supposed that it was both, and neither. Since coming to Wind Reach, most of the handful of reimancers he had encountered were geomancers, manipulating the stone of Mt Skynarta to carve new tunnels and caverns to meet the city's requirements. Their element so perfectly fit what was needed of them that it seemed impossible for there not to have been choice involved. Yet, for Zhol, the opposite felt true: he had not wanted fire, and yet here it was, thrust upon him. Except, perhaps he had chosen fire: not consciously, but by simply being who he was; warm and caring yes, but also clumsy and undisciplined, and impossible to contain. You could build walls to hold back earth; dams to restrain water; windbreaks to shield against the air; but you couldn't put reins on fire.

And the only thing that abates it is water, he mused, his mind straying involuntarily to thoughts of Dinah and Endrykas. When his reimancy had first begun, he had been so scared of losing control; but his twin had promised that she would always be there, to quench his flames when they needed it. True to her word she had been; all except one day.

"I think it depends on who you are," Zhol answered a wave of relief washing over him as he tugged his pants back into place. "I'm sure there are some people who have enough force of will to choose whichever element they wish; but in my experience, reimancers seem naturally drawn to the best match for their personality." He paused, considering that statement for a moment, questioning its validity. "More skilled reimancers are able to manipulate many elements, and even combine them to make others - water and air for ice, fire and air for lightning - but their first element always seems to come the easiest to them. Perhaps it is merely practice."

Clothed, and feeling marginally less apprehensive as a result - though anyone who wished to see had already seen, he supposed - he hesitated before stepping out from behind the screen, as Drusilla spoke of her father. Part of him was glad that amidst all of the pain and sorrow of Drusilla's past, there was something in her past that she could recall with fondness; another part stumbled over itself, tripping over flattered embarrassment at having been not only compared to someone Drusilla regarded with such affection, but also described as the polar opposite of Zhol's own father; a good man was about as far from his own father as he could imagine getting.

His expression was timid as he stepped back into view, and found Drusilla already waiting. "Perhaps instead of Glassbeaks," he suggested quietly, "I could earn some of my honour back by helping to reunite my sister with her father." His voice turned quieter still. "If that was something she wanted, of course."

"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.

[Drusilla]

I think it depends on who you are. Drusilla listened to Zhol carefully, "And what do you think I am? Am I a Volcano? A tornado? An earthquake? Or a tsunami? Hmmm?" She honestly wanted to know what he thought she'd be. Had she taken a guess at Zhol it would of been wind. Maybe she was the wind. She had no idea what she'd be, what her manifestation would be. She gave Zhol a smile "Perhaps one day I'll go see him. Maybe then I'll take you up on that offer. Until then I wish to learn as much as I can about anything and everything to show I haven't wasted my years away from home." She turned to Zhol, "Now shall I walk you to your room?"

[Zhol]

|.

Perhaps it was just a casual, curious question, but that didn't stop Zhol from embracing the opportunity to provide a good, thoughtful answer. Drusilla had learned and inferred so much about him already, and yet Zhol felt as if he had barely scratched the surface of learning about his new self-proclaimed sister.

Zhol considered the reimancers he already knew. Admittedly the number was small, but there were four who sharply resolved in his mind; one example for each of the elements. There was himself for fire of course: while Drusilla certainly had all the warmth one would expect from that element, and the amiable personality of a curious, crackling campfire, he didn't see the other side in her, none of the potential for a raging, spiteful, uncontrolled and unrestrainable inferno of anger and self-loathing that he knew could ignite inside him if he didn't keep his emotions in check. There was his mother, Etha, the earth reimancer: as unchanging as a mountain, in all the best and worst ways; as unconditional in her affection for her children as Semele herself; constant, dependable, and eternal. Zhol saw a little of that stubborn streak - that granite opinion that was almost impossible to erode - in Drusilla, but if anything she reminded him more of Lillah, the eldest of all his siblings. An air reimancer, Drusilla shared much of her nature: the personality that began as a gentle, playful breeze at first; capable of persistent gusts of determination that refused to be ignored; and having been told of what Drusilla's physiology made her capable of, he didn't doubt that his two big sisters were equally capable of becoming a hurricane-force whirl of devastation if provoked into it, especially when protecting family.

And then there was Dinah. At a glance, Dinah and Drusilla were not alike in the slightest; but then Zhol had always looked harder than just a mere glance, always saw past Dinah's calm surface to see what lurked in her depths. Dinah was a river: her soothing sounds and peaceful, elegant meander through life concealed vicious, limb-tearing currents that lurked beneath; you never quite knew if around the next corner would be a cascading storm of deadly rapids, or if the river would become a soothing stream with banks of dappled shade, or widen into a tranquil lake.

That wasn't how he saw Drusilla, but she wasn't worlds away. "Water," he decided, answering finally after a long, introspective pause. "You remind me of a bubbling brook: such a happy nature, so much good intent; so crystal clear, so pure, and soothing; and yet that's just the beginning, just the start of the journey, and I know there is far more to discover about you downstream, when the tributary of what I know so far joins the rest of the river."

He stopped himself, not expecting his answer to stray so close to poetic. He let himself fall quiet, unable to help a gentle, genuine smile at the sentiment she offered, and the philosophy on life she revealed. To show I haven't wasted my years away from home. That spoke to him, more so than any other opinion on life's purpose he'd heard explained. People made it about serving gods, and lofty goals, and perhaps in the end it was; but at it's core, at it's base, the simplest objective of life was to not waste it; to reach it's end, look back, and be glad of how full it had been.

Her offer to escort him home made his smile grow more. "Worried I'll get lost in the tunnels again?" he teased.

"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.

[Drusilla]

"Awww, you made that sound so pretty!" Drusilla cooed to Zhol. Water he thought. A brook right now perhaps one day an ocean. "If I'm water we could practice together and you wouldn't have to worry because water beats fire!" She gave him a smile and ruffled his hair again with a laugh. "Am I worried?" She paused her lips pursed, breaking into a smile she answered, "Yes!" There was more laughter "You were in the fetal position on the floor of the tunnels, so you can't really blame me for my concern." She paused again, "How do you say, 'see you soon' in Pavi?" Drusilla asked as the two made their way back through the tunnels. Questions and laughter echoed behind them. She hoped Zhol would sleep well tonight. Be it the fumes, the spa, or simply knowing he wasn't alone in the city in stone. He was one of many just trying to find their way on the road of life and they had each other to help them along the way.