The Stars' Lament [Hadrian]

[Hadrian]

"No." He paused, frustrated. He didn't know why he couldn't seem to communicate clearly. "No, I don't need to go. I just wasn't sure if you really wanted me here. But... yes, if we meet again, I will tell you what she says about celestial geometry, though I wonder if she can even answer my questions. She might not understand it so literally. But the sort of study that would be required to map it out... I'm not that patient, making observations for decades, recording, pure maths. I'll leave that to the Nuit of Sahova. Perhaps I'll ask them about it the next time I dare the undead isle. "But I have lots of questions for Zintila, and several other of the gods. I don't know if I'll get my answers, but I will ask the questions if the opportunity arises. Fortune favors the bold, right?" His smile was a touch fatalistic, as if he imagined he would offend some god who would strike him down on the spot for his perceived hubris.

[Seven Xu]

“That it does, that it does.” Seven’s bony fingers grazed thoughtfully over his work as he mumbled, pale lips barely moving as he spoke. Nysel was taunting him, making his eyelids heavy and jumbling his thoughts. A yawn was stifled again in his throat and his other hand found his tea. Seven’s movements became as calculated as his thoughts, lifting the cup to his lips, sipping, and then setting it down again without making a sound.

“I imagine whatever Zintila has to share on the subject would be illuminating in any regard.” Seven cocked his head, scarlet staring into cerulean. If it weren’t for the dramatic height difference, the pair would have mirrored each other to an eerie degree – even beyond physicality. Thin, pale, not built for labour but to investigate the very basis of their world and beyond. If it weren’t for Seven’s unfortunate timing, he may have probed the brunette to teach him whatever he could, regardless of subject.

Seven’s envy had morphed into respect and tired delirium found his face in a bright grin and a laugh. “I can’t imagine bringing myself to ever ask a god such things. I really hope we cross paths again someday, Hadrian, interviewer of the gods.” Another reserved chuckle.

[Hadrian]

It still seemed to him as though Seven were weary, but he would try to be more attentive to unspoken signals for when it was the right time to leave. Certainly he hadn't expected to meet a stellar cartographer when he woke up that morning. His smile was a little vague as if he wasn't sure what to think about, to talk about next. "I would love to interview most gods," he said quietly. "I feel like they are each... facets of a greater thing. Or emanations of something more... unknowable. Like a step between us and something unimaginably greater, so alien that we could never understand it as we are today. But... that's just my intuitive understanding, of course. I could be entirely wrong." He found himself done with his tea again, but was content to hold the cooling mug between his long-fingered hands.

[Seven Xu]

“I don’t think we’ll ever be ready to know everything the Gods know,” Seven’s expression darkened as his eyes searched Hadrian’s face, his thin smile. “There must be concepts so abstract that the limitations of our physical selves would simply never be able to completely understand, not without being able to see through the eyes of the Gods themselves.

“I apologize; that sounds quite pessimistic.” Words poured from Seven’s mouth. Despite his fatigue, the conversation was keeping him relatively alert, excited, and talkative. Who knew if, or when he would see this enchanter again? “I am not sure what I would ask if I were ever in the position to speak to a God. I cannot imagine one giving someone such as myself the time of day – certainly mortals have a hard time doing that.” Colorless lips twisted between a smile and a smirk. Being of mixed blood had little benefits: his body was weaker than that of a full-blooded human, it wasn’t as agile as that of a Symenestra – and both races wanted little to do with those of dirtied Symenestra blood. These were things Seven too often concerned himself with when he was fortunate to find company that did not pass judgment.

“Do you think they are above petty racism and other ailments of humankind? I’d like to think so, although from what I have learned I suppose they aren’t always good to each other …” The bottom of the teapot would be offered politely to his company if he desired it.

[Hadrian]

"I think we might move closer to a fuller understanding, and perhaps there are realms of consciousness possible for us through evolution that are higher than this one. Whether we can ever be like the gods... Well, there are already examples of men -- and women -- made gods. Sagallius, Myri... I think the gods are, on some level, what we need them to be. They must derive some benefit from our worship or else why would they even bother with ants like us? I don't think they are racist in quite the same way. The goddess of snakes prefers the Dhani to other sentient life, I'm sure, but if they are creatures of spirit, I don't see why they would have any fundamental racism. Perhaps She would not love you because you were not Dhani, but I don't think She would care that you are of mixed blood, merely that you are not one of the creatures She calls her own." He raised his hand to decline the dregs of the tea. Soon enough he would have to empty his bladder.

[Seven Xu]

“Sometimes I think we amuse them,” Seven rolled his eyes with a flippant grin and set down the tea pot again. “But you’re right. People have become Gods. I would like to meet those that call themselves Ethaefal, I believe they may be the closest thing to the Gods without speaking to the Gods, themselves.” A nod, then finally, Nysel’s influence won against Seven’s fallible will power. He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “My apologies; I have been trying to condition myself to a Sylirian schedule.”

Of course, that had begun far before actually arriving in Syliras. Most travel through The Unforgiven had been done during the day – and while Seven spent much of it asleep, there were times he was forced to earn his keep on the merchant caravan that went beyond night time vigils. That, and The Unforgiven was not particularly ... forgiving, on those moving through it and the carts would often jostle about too much to get any sort of sound sleep. “Have you ever met one? An Ethaefal, that is? I have only heard of them, I never even encountered one in Lhavit. Well, on second thought, I very well may have without knowing it.” A weary grin.

[Hadrian]

"I'm sure we do amuse them on some level," he agreed, still wide-eyed and awake, his attention narrowed in on Seven and his ideas, even though the continued yawning made him feel like he should leave despite the white man's protestations. "Actually, I have a... a friend, I suppose, who's an ethaefal, though I haven't seen him in a couple of years. He was a healer in Zeltiva. I don't think most of them remember much... or what they remember is fragmented, possibly damaged from their fall from the Ukalas. But I've heard tell that more of them fall in and around Denval... near your homeland... than anywhere else. I don't know how to verify that information, though. Well, I might end up there one day, so we shall see. Perhaps I'll ask Zintila about the Ethaefal, too. She fell..."

[Seven Xu]

“Ukalas?” Seven repeated the unfamiliar word, awkward and foreign on his tongue. “Oh, is that a word for where they come from?” A light of realization shone in his eyes as he sprung to the balls of his heels and grabbed up their dirtied teacups, confident that they had both gotten their fill of the warm liquid. “My apologies; my knowledge on religious matters or that of the afterlife is … elementary, at best.” He frowned suddenly, but it disappeared as soon as it arrived. “Maybe I should study up while I’m here – you have a temple that is dedicated to all Gods, don’t you? I should give it a visit, while I search.”

Setting down the dishware, Seven crossed the floor again to take his seat, idly checking the lantern for oil before leaning forward and resting his elbows on the tabletop with a smile. “I have heard good things of Denval. They are relatively isolated, aren’t they? Lhavit was once isolated as well. Geography breeds interesting societies, when people are left to their own devices.” The smile faded, giving way to pink that stained and conquered his white cheeks. “I’m rambling.”

[Hadrian]

Hadrian nodded vaguely. He was hypereducated and sometimes had to downshift in order to communicate clearly when outside the academic ivory tower. "The Ukalas are the plane upon which the gods exist, when not manifesting in our world. There's more speculation than hard facts on it if you ask me, but it's a start, I suppose. There is the Temple of All Gods, yes. Glav Navik used to run it, but I'm not sure who's in charge anymore. I wouldn't go asking about the god of chaos, though. All gods is sort of a misnomer. This is still Syliras." He watched bemusedly as Seven fannied about with the dishes, always curious about mixed race people and how their various bloodlines interacted. Of course, he knew better than to ask too pointed questions unless he knew them better. "I've never been to Denval," he said. "Never too Kalea other than Alvadas. The Zeltivans made contact with them about sixty years ago. Before that they were entirely isolated. It will be an interesting anthropological study if I can get out there... Oh, I'm rambling too..."

[Seven Xu]

“So we have that in common,” Seven laughed as if keeping track of their likenesses, rolling his eyes towards the stone ceiling as the sound rumbled between them. He pulled his legs onto the chair and sat with them crossed, long-fingered hands in his lap rubbing his opposite wrist. He begged his mind to right itself, to ask appropriate questions, to get what information he could. He felt like a thirst-starved seafarer and Hadrian’s mind was a spring – but he only had a limited amount of time to drink, to quench his thirst and attempt to fill his belly before the cool line traveled back up his throat again to drown him. Nails dug into pale skin and his lips tightened. He could have bled had he pushed harder, but the jolt of pain up his forearm kept him alert and grinning from behind a hazy sheen in those unnaturally large pupils.

“Well, you have me convinced. Perhaps my mother is religious. I would like to know more of Viratas, if she is; you know, to impress her.” A hand reached up to slide The Viratassa from its shadowy depths from the other end of the table and flipped it open. Inside was the scrawling, graceful writing of the Symenestra and several Lhavitian characters mixed in, in different colored ink. “Everything I know of Him is in this. I feel closer to her, when I read from it.” His admissions had knitted a wrinkle in his brow and his parched lips pressed together. “In all truthfulness, I just want her to approve of me. I am human in every aspect but my blood – it is how I was raised - so perhaps it would be better if she were not a devout follower of Viratas.

“There is so much I want to ask you.” Seven finally admitted with an air of defeat in his voice and continued it from his last thought as if the pair made sense in his head. “You’re a rare breed; you know things.”