Let's do the Test Drive Again

[wolof]

I. BEARING FRUIT (NEW CHARACTERS ONLY)

It starts out as a pleasant dream. You’re in your favorite place, with your favorite people. It’s a moment of idyllic comfort.

And then, it goes wrong.

The sky turns dark above, and as you look up, you see the black expanse of space spotted with faraway pinprick lights of stars. Yet, they’re not stars. You’re certain. They’re watching you. A billion eyes all looking down, and they spill forth as if sky itself was a dam holding back those dark waters. You reach back to the people you’re with, but they’re frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.

So you run, even though you know you won’t escape it. You glance back and see it not overtaking, but consuming. The landscape around you is being devoured, and you can see it cracking apart. The world itself is breaking, and it cracks under your feet. You fall, and the billion eyes chase after you until the darkness swallows you whole. There’s agony as if you’re being ripped apart, and then—

You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a woman’s voice speaks gently.

I’m sorry it couldn’t be saved. But, come, it’s time to wake.

You wake with a start, cradled by soft, velvety plants, and sticky with a sap that smells faintly of honey and iron. You can see the veins of the leaves that hold you, lit warmly and gently by what looks like a crystal embedded above you. Yet, it’s odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, it’s warm. Familiar. Important. You don’t know why, but you know you must hold onto this, because now it feels wrong for it to be suspended in these leaves. So, you pull it out.

The light starts to fade, but only in time to see as the leaves cradling you immediately start to soften and crumble, and with it comes a torrent of dirt. Soft, loamy soil starts to fill the space around you in the dark as you’re buried. Or, rather, you already were. You reach out through the dirt desperately, and your hands finds a root, so you pull while you clutch that precious crystal so close that it almost feels like it sinks into you (in your panic, you don’t notice that it does). You reach out again, and this time, your hand hits open air and plenty of sturdy roots around to grab.

From a seed you’re born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.

And once you’ve clawed your way out of the soft earth and the roots, nearby, you see the soil shift. Another hand comes up to grasp desperately for something, anything, just as you had been.

II. BOUGH-BREAKER, ROOT-QUAKER

There are new Shard-Bearers at the Tree of Life, and Yima has asked that their elders return to the Tree to greet them, to bring them forth and answer their questions. She warns that it will be unlike the last time, for the Dryad's presence has gone -- the root-caverns of the Tree are damaged, the previous actions of some of the Shard-Bearers have left it injured, blackened by ill intent. Be careful, Commune where you must, but be aware that the Tree has reacted to its injury and will seek out the space within your Communions to make its agonies known.

All will experience the consequences to the actions of the few.

Whether awakening within or descending once more into the cavernous, root layer of the Tree of life is precarious; passages are maze-like, with claustrophobic squeezes and sudden chasms. Worse yet, is the miasma that hovers in the atmosphere. It leaches into your eyes, your skin, the space below your fingernails and drags through your lungs with every inhalation. Images of explosions, of fire and the sensation of shrapnel tearing through you begin to spark like fireworks within your mind. The pain builds, souring as it does.

The ambiance here is revolting. Great chasms have opened in the environment, threatening to pour inattentive Shard-Bearers into the Tree's deeper underbelly. The cloying, dark vapors around everyone dull the senses, until those you may have entered with are gone, or perhaps new bodies have joined you in the rancid space. The miasma urges you towards your baser desires, your desperate violence, and even as the Tree's pain evokes a sense of desperate self-defense, your Shard warms upon your body.

Somehow, the Tree still seeks to Commune with all -- pressing its need upon you: a single flame. A roaring pyre. A chilled ember.

THE GAME IS AFOOT

The Tree of Life cannot communicate but in abstract images and sounds, but the general gist of its need is eventually grasped by all Shard-Bearers: the miasma present is the result of an attack upon the Dryad that once lived among the roots of the Tree. Actions taken by other Shard-Bearers have left the Tree in dire straits, deeply wounded and unable to prevent itself from naturally lashing out in its own defense as it dies. It cannot let go of those it has imprisoned, until they have revealed their nature to it - until it knows it can finally, finally let go.

Characters can decide amongst themselves how to deal with the threat of miasma. It's easy to figure out, as your shards will naturally want to absorb what's similar to discord within your shards, but just like with discord, holding hands, or joining together in some way will allow the pain to be shared amongst everyone in the group. There's no such thing as failure, but if a character decides for the group, there may be the opportunity for intervention…

• Characters may choose to take on the role of a martyr, accepting the Tree's miasma ( its pain ) upon themselves as the sole sufferant. They will experience excruciating pain and lasting effects, but will spare others from this trauma.
• Characters may also choose to share the pain among themselves, though doing so will require Communion to be shared between all parties -- this will result in the temporary collapse of boundaries and barricades, and emotions and memories may flow against their will into others.
• Characters may also decide to do nothing at all, whereupon their decision to take no action will result in the miasma growing stronger, denser and more cloying until they are rendered unconscious and ejected from the roots of the tree.
• Have you a choice unique to your character that wasn't mentioned? Might you try to heal the tree's pain, or perhaps harm it further? If you're making the attempt, make sure your group is aware and submit your record of action to the link included below!

This can be done in groups of 2 to 4 players, and three is a recommendation - if you can swing it! It’s more fun when you get into philosophical debates, right? Regardless, when your group comes to a decision, please record it here. These don’t have to be fully threaded out to be recorded, so the conclusion can be discussed OOC if you prefer. Actions can be submitted until JANUARY 9TH, after which a tally will be taken of decision and filed away for later, devious uses.

III. TWO CITIES, ALIKE IN DIGNITY BUT WE ALL KNOW YIMOMMY'S WHERE IT'S AT

Having just celebrated the dual-natured festivities known as the Year's End Festival and Qiasu, Springstar and Highstorm ( respectively ) are wrapping up the period of time where Kenos a celebrates unity and togetherness, coming together with friends and family, to be kind to others and share in one’s wealth - whether that comes in the form of knowledge, monetary gains, or the exchange of gifts and one’s time. While the core festivities are over, many of the residents of Kenos are still caught up in the celebratory mood; those who are not, have begun to fret and whisper about a rumor that has spread throughout both cities.

( Many more residents are attempting to get rid of their excess stock, and may attempt to pawn off kitschy goods and, strangely, unclaimed gifts for people they claim they have no memory of, or simply do not exist. )

With the new Shard-Bearers present or en route, it is Kathova and Cetina that approach the established ones, requesting that they form mentorships with the new souls to assist them with the integration process. To this end, they have both provided a centralized zone in both Highstorm and Springstar for a small, casual meet-and-greet to be held before the new Shard-Bearers are unleashed upon Kenos as a whole.

Additionally, as Springstar and Highstorm are holding their events on different days, it is possible for the knowledge-hungry to participate in both informational sessions -- the tones and opinions held by both cities are doubtless to differ, and some Shard-Bearers who have chosen to harmonize with either faction may even find their way to the opposing faction's session as well. After all, the year's end is still lingering in the air, and cooperation is the current name of the game.

SPRINGSTAR, αιώνιος ήλιος

In Springstar, the seat of the Tribune becomes available for such a forum. While a section of the building itself has been reserved for the meeting between fresh faces and experienced Shard-Bearers alike, the hustle and bustle of Heliopolis continues around them -- acolytes still gather their robes and tomes, hurrying from their quarters to lessons. A score of young militants march in step across the yard to the training grounds.

Tables draped in white-and-gold-trimmed fabrics fare filled with fare common to Springstar's warmer climate -- fruits and wines, savory smoked meats and roasted vegetables, a series of meze platters and souvlaki skewers have been lain out to encourage forum participants to snack as they speak. The atmosphere is light, ambient with informality and friendliness, though topics will inevitably stray towards philosophic, Springstar's meeting grounds are decorated with handsome chaise lounges and slouching klismos chairs in small, intimate groupings.

HIGHSTORM, луны-близнецы

Eternally in opposition, Highstorm provides the Manor's courtyard as the setting for their informational meeting. Here, formality is of utmost importance, with attending Zenith loyalists and residents dressed in beautiful, albeit austere attire -- they are, after all, standing before Lady Yima's home. A buffet-style luncheon is spread alongside one of the largest reflecting pools, wherein you may gaze and find your memories revealed in retrospect upon the water's surface.

There are few places to be seated in the Manor's courtyard, resulting in a milling of bodies as they flow and ebb between smaller gatherings, clustering in small-to-large groups with small platters and shimmering flutes of drink held in their hands.

RUMOR MILL

In both locations information passes between all in a forum, spread and disseminated among the masses - it's a good opportunity for city residents, faction loyalists and interested new parties to share and share alike. Once the meet-and-greet has concluded, twin missives from both of the faction leads are read out -- invitations for all present to explore the cities to their heart's content, and warnings about stumbling ill-prepared ( or at all ) into the Below, or worse yet, the Beyond.

No matter how conversations between player characters go, everyone will walk away with the following knowledge to ensure new players do not feel "behind" in terms of what has previously happened on Kenos TV.

• Cyrus, the head of the Meridian faction is a native aristocrat of Springstar, who provides characters with an iliachtida, or sunbeam. This item tethers a character to their world, ensuring it does not fully disappear. His stance involves the idea that, using Meridian's light, worlds can be restored and you may return home.
• In contrast, the head of the Zenith faction is Yima, who has been the head of Highstorm since - arguably - its inception. She provides characters with a Shard of that they love most, to protect and hold. Yima believes former worlds to be lost, and looks to the future instead.
• While Harmonization occurs as the characters' Shard ( literally the manifestation of a character's soul! ) accrues the natural energies generated by Meridian or Zenith, Discord is also as natural an occurrence -- a symptom, in fact, of that process. Discord is best reduced by someone from the opposite faction, and is also influenced by the Aspect of one's character.
• Cyrus likes enchiladas.
• Many individuals recommend the following locations to new arrivals, as a means of enjoyment, involvement or further information-seeking: Highstorm's Court at Yima's Manor remains a great area for reflection and self-discovery, while the Tomes - a series of libraries - possess a magnitude of amassed knowledge, both foreign and relative to yourself. Heliopolis, the capital of Springstar, is the core of government and administration, and houses many avenues towards involvement in the goings-on of the city. Likewise, the Psychagogía District is the beating heart of entertainment within an island known for its passions.
• Rumors of past exploits linger on the lips of many. Did you know that one of Meridian's Harmonized slew one of Zenith's before the eyes of countless bystanders? That there was an expedition of Meri and Zenite Shard-Bearers dispatched to Alenroux, and some came back brutalized! Did you hear that the Shard of a Zenite is being held hostage by the Meridians?
• The new marking that has appeared upon your character's body is known as their sign of Aspect, and supposedly correlates to the fundamental truths of their soul. A Shard also exists, and is known as the characters' soul itself.

NOTES

Welcome to Kenos! As a reminder, all new players need an invite to play in the game, which are now open.

This log is Game Canon. Any characters who are not apped to the game will disappear. If Cyrus or Yima are asked, they’ll explain that this happens sometimes, since not every soul has a strong tether to Kenos and sometimes return to the Timestream. They’re fine and may even return to Kenos one day, but for now weren’t able to make the full journey.

As a reminder, your character has a Shard somewhere on their body that encompasses their soul, so keep note of where you're sticking it on their person for reference! Additionally, they have a tattoo of their Aspect somewhere on their body. Please be mindful this Aspect will be assigned to you upon approval and whatever you choose for the TDM may be temporary (for new characters)!

For the Highstorm and Springstar prompts, both cities will be fully open and accessible to all characters once they are saved from their rather harrowing ordeal at the Tree of Life. For prompt ideas and any general information about the cities and what you can find there, please see the Navigation page and check out the locations!

FOR NEW PLAYERS:

When characters emerge from their cocoon/the ground, characters may be wearing their normal clothes, or they might be nude. Up to you!

At some point in the days after leaving the Tree of Life, new Shard-Bearers will have a dream, even if they're usually not capable of sleeping. All new players should read this post, since this details how they'll learn about both factions and their goals and should help them make a decision in which Faction they'd be drawn to.

New characters will not have access to any canon abilities on the TDM.

Your character will be offered temporary housing either at the Heliopolis district or Yima's manor for the first few weeks after their arrival. They will also be given a stipend for basic supplies like clothing and personal effects, and food is served in the cantina (Heliopolis) and at regular meal times in the Dining Room (Yima's manor). Once they Harmonize, they will get personal permanent chambers and a fancy retainer in their Faction's city. Wow! 🌈

CODING

Comments

[sharmat]

What have I done to you? Tell me this now, as I am losing my patience, (voryn demands in a sudden display of anger. red eyes, however, though alight with it, demonstrate the control he has over it. they burn in his skull as he refuses to blink and sacrifice dominance after the forehoof encounters the chaise and dislodges it from its place in the forum.

his voice holds power and authority, but there is no power and authority that could sway her. it's employed for another reason, which is to draw attention to the argument without flagging for a springstar guard.)

What have I done to you but match your challenging nature with my own? I defend myself now in the aftermath of this decision. I looked your way when you answered me, half-woman, and suggested then that we do not speak. (no longer sitting for it is now too dangerous to do so, voryn measures a foot shorter than hayame's seven feet. he holds his head high and his shoulders back, unafraid. this is the war general in him, trained and ready to come to blows—with or without his magic.)

But then I called you "foreigner" and "slave" because I glimpsed what you once were in your stare. Our worlds are gone, (he continues. his arm is flung out with the flourish of the rich sleeve of his embroidered robe, showing her the sky as if that's where nirn and earth be if they were still whole.) Yet you still see me as a master when I am not yours. You must ask yourself why this is, as your mind and its bitterness is no one's responsibility but your own.

I AM SORRY for this fight and also this long ass tag

[warmare]

[What has he done?]

You insulted me.

[Hayame should have left. She should have scoffed over this stranger’s dismissal, turned, and denied him… But she had been unable to ignore the all too familiar tone she thought she heard in his voice, and now a mere minute later it is too late to retreat without loss of face. Not for her. Not for the rigid code of honor and misplaced pride that continued to rule her life long after others in this place seem to think she should have abandoned the ways of her world for a new order.

He raises his voice, and whether she understands it as a design intended to make her out to the others around them as some irrational aggressor in the wrong or not… It cements her actions. It binds her to him as steadily as any rope or chain, because now… now people are looking, raising eyebrows, murmuring behind glasses, and so now…

She cannot show weakness. She cannot back down and let him “win”. She cannot hide the raw, unbridled anger in her one remaining eye when he speaks it plainly what that word had meant.

“Slave”. She had spent her entire life desperately pretending that she was not that. She had been bred by human hands, raised by human hands, and taught just enough to make her seem better than those not. She had been made an overseer over the “lesser” members of her kind, those broken from the wild or disobedient enough to have their arms flensed from their shoulders, and she had been allowed to think… she would not be a simple mount. If she was good enough, strong enough, loyal enough… she could escape the fate of being sold as a broodmare and become a warhorse, she could prove herself on the battlefield and maybe, just maybe, be given enough dignity to think herself a person-

And she’d been wrong.

This man lays bare those resentments and pains all too easily with haughty, proud words that accuse her of overreacting. And he is not wrong- that is what galls the most. Her temper had been on a hair trigger for months, her grip on the cold, calm warrior she’d always striven to be slipping every day since she’d been spirited from her world and now-

Now she lashes out. Apparently he isn’t stupid, he seems to notice and try to twist away but the lounge is in his way and she is fast. She is strong by nature of her race as well as her training, and he may be nearly her height but the muscles of her deceptively human-looking upper half are knit together far differently beneath her hide. It isn’t actually physically difficult to snare him… nor to lift him off the ground with hands fisted in his robes as if he were a feather pillow, jerking without regard for comfort or bruising to bring him close enough to smell meat and wine on her breath, canines too sharp to look as if they belonged to either human or horse snapping inches from his face.]

Give me one good reason not to show you in front of everyone here exactly what I did to my master’s men.

[Technically… what she would do, once she could return to her world, but. Her mind and it’s bitterness weren’t just her own. They were his problem, now, too.]

IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL... MY EYES!!!!!!!!

[sharmat]

(beastfolk—khajiit, argonians—strong and agile. they are the perfect slaves, the perfect mules, the perfect warriors, and voryn, a chimer of science content to study others, has private admiration for their forms as one has admiration for a wild creature tamed and collared. despite this, he's never suffered their small rebellions. runaways in disparate groups on his brothers' plantations were few and far between, but there were runaways. economically, they were punished for their individuality by being sold as bargaining tools to be invested in the mining industry or in expanding sixth house land in the east and west. and he recalls, as he's caught and wrenched across the chaise into hayame's grasp, numerous were killed for their desertion. voryn considers it ironic that the hammer falls on him, now, but that is all he considers, ascribing no further meaning to the poetic justice of his seizure.

in the air, he dispassionately takes note of his new injury. his leg had struck the ground in his attempt at retreating from hayame, and now the skin of his knees has been scraped bloody and bruised. now his chest aches as she holds him off of his feet, hands gripping so tightly in the neck of his robes that her knuckles press in hard along his clavicle.)

Hah-hah-hah... (voryn laughs, though the noise is strangled out as the grip near his neck becomes painful.) I can give you several.

(a general remains calm when facing danger. in his fist lies his only weapon: the bent iron nail received from a merchant before joining the forum of new and old shard-bearers. he has encountered worse fights in worse places and fought victoriously with worse odds. his mind, traitorous even now, unhelpfully supplies that hayame shows the same wild pride as his master, his lord and his defiant eyes, and it disgusts him to have to think of it.) You will listen to my reasons. After I have spoken, you will accept my honesties or disregard them as untruths.

(while there is no place for him to go, totally ensnared by her greater strength, that does not mean that there is nothing for him to do. the crowd doesn't bear down on them, but it watches, partly curious, partly frightened. voryn looks at them briefly, the creasing between his brow deepening in an effort to demonstrate his resolve publically and without shame. there is no retaliation from him, because that would be imprudent now that he holds their attention; at this time, voryn decides perhaps madly that he would rather accept the full force of her ire than attack or spit at her or try to cause harm to her in any way.

the nail heating in the dryness of his palm is forgotten. instead, he speaks slowly and softly so that others are unable to hear him.)

Hear me, for I put my titles aside now to address you as a warrior.

You will never be respected if you do not learn to control your nature. I know this because I have seen it in my chap'thil, House soldiers with spirits yet unbroken in battle. You will be seen by all as violence in flesh, untempered and cruel, and this will reflect on your faction, be you Meridian or Zenith. Your task of restoring your world and ways or the treasured soul of the person you once knew will be made more difficult by the total assassination of your reliability.

The obstacles on the path of making enemies are outweighed by the difficulty of swallowing one's pride.

(an ancient red stare bears down on hayame's as she too watches him, the two similar in their disdain and stubbornness. this is a lesson quickly learned for him; words and stares must be guarded here to prevent any more disturbances. he will adapt to it to survive and rise in the faction's ranks because this is what he must do for the sake of his family.

for the sake of his revenge.)

Put me down. Show Springstar that these things are wrong to assume.

SOS someone get the Akua signal

[warmare]

[His reasoning may have worked on a woman who was more human-shaped, who had not spent months uncomfortable in spaces never meant for her, Different at a single glance, an object of curiosity or confusion when she had never been anything but a normal existence. It may have resonated with someone who was newer arrived to this foreign place, who was unsure of what their place in this world would end up being and thought to care of a new reputation they would need to build. It may have been swallowed smoothly by a person who had not been an aion before becoming a shard-bearer, who had not already seen battle for their world and seen how they would be viewed by their “comrades” and “allies”.

But unfortunately for this man, whose name she did not know and did not need to know… Hayame was none of those things. He declares she will never be respected if she does not reign in her temper- ?]

I will never be respected.

[She knew that now. (Didn’t she?) Her fingers fist tighter in his robes uncaring if it cuts off more of his air, correcting his mistake with a low, cold hiss. In her own world, the two decades she had spent striving to better her position had been worthless, selling out her own gender, her own race, everyone but her own brother in order to fight for the “respect” of people who in the end would never see her as more than something to fuck, breed, command, or ride. She had learned that lesson. She had failed to take the one route towards such a thing in her own life, and now-]

I will take no lecture from a stranger who knows not of what he fucking speaks.

[And here- ? He would argue to her that she should put him down, walk away, and let all the people now staring in their direction see him come out the victor so that she might be respected? She should hang her head and proclaim him the wise and right so that he can come out of this the rational hero who tamed the anger of the beast?

What a farce. The assumptions were already made, and if that was so-

Hayame’s lips draw back in a snarl, teeth grinding, jaw clenched as she easily shifts to a one-handed hold upon the man in her grip, who refused to give proper answer to his insults. Fine. She will take it herself and be done with this.

Her freed hand draws back, as if prepared to strike him, when- ]

[wolof]

[ Somewhere from across the room, a head swung upward, a gracious turn of her head toward the altercation, brewing like a pot about to boil over. She'd neared calmly, at first, to catch the small snippets of conversation, and her lips pursed over her cup of wine as she listened, subtly settled behind a pillar, waiting, listening. She did not need to have the ability to See to knhowich the wind turned. She did not need to Narrate to find the trail of the story and draw it to a close.

She moved, when she heard Hayame start to talk, her fingers in his robes, as she peered, her tone was cold and sharp. Akua's feet took her swiftly, closed in from behind before she cleared her throat, and her hand came up to rest against Hayame's arm, to still the coiled violence that was near to bursting. ]

Are you going to let him goad you?

[ She asked, her gold eyes flashed, and though Hayame was much stronger than she, and she could, Akua kept her eyes on the woman. Her tone was derisive, not toward Hayame, but... ]

Those who refuse to adapt will be left behind, soon enough. Will it not be more satisfying, in his hour of need, to remind him of his failing? [ Eyes slid to him. ] Will it not mean more when there is Power behind your revenge, rather than him playing a tune for you to follow?

[ He had goaded her, pulled her in, and it was such an easy thing to lose. That would establish a pattern though, wouldn't it? That he could force Hayame to prance on strings that he laid out, by simply saying the right words? No. Then again, she'd heard him try to speak with her calmly, and while Akua could appreciate a proper de-escalation, it was the wrong person who did so. He spoke of proving them wrong, of masters and slaves, and that was not the person he could be. Akua though, she could. The Praes that she had grown up in had committed plenty of crimes, but they were no Stygia, and would not indulge in such things. ]

Let's not prove him right, hm? There will be plenty of time for revenge soon enough.

1/2

[sharmat]

(negotiations were broken to start with, so voryn doubted his words would reach her. though they are received poorly for she was expecting barbs, he knows privately that his words were honest. this was designed so he would not regret his next act of defending himself from her raised fist.)

Fine. Only deeds will settle this now.

(the deformed nail in his hand is manoeuvred into place by his waist so that the upward jab he intends to make with it will target her neck. still, as they prepare to retaliate against one another, akua sahelian interjects.)

2/2

[sharmat]

(the name of calamity is here to aid hayame. voryn, one to find humour in irony, even if that irony is at his expense, thinks that this moment is unexpected but suitable when the half-woman is as calamitous as they come. she's unbridled in her hatred of anyone who might see her as lesser, which he decided is not his responsibility any more than it is the responsibility of anyone else she's harassed in her time here. she can worship the proud sahelian as her patron saint for all he gives a good goddamn if only everyone would just leave him alone for the better part of the afternoon.

his attack is halted instantly, trained for over three centuries to be patient in battle and to wait for better opportunities to strike. one opportunity passed the moment a bystander got involved, and while it would be viable to stab at hayame still when she is distracted by akua's presence, voryn dagoth is—whether anyone in this world likes it or not—honourable.)

Goading has a different pitch, (he rasps from the pressure on his throat.

and this is all he says, refusing to interrupt a conversation that may lead to him being set back on his feet.)

[warmare]

[There is a moment, a split second, when it seems that a slap might resonate throughout the chamber of Helios, one barely in check enough to prevent a delicate spine from snapping and instead break a jaw or cheekbone. There is another split second when it seems that in reaction to a sudden presence, the centaur ready to strike might turn her attention defensively to whatever approaches, instinctive and snarling-

But Akua is there, and her hand is on her arm. An archer’s finely chiseled muscles spasm beneath the other woman’s dark, warm fingers, one remaining eye finds her ablaze with rage and petty insult, and for another moment… Who can tell what is happening? Hayame’s fingers tighten further in voluminous robes, teeth grind and canines gnash… and it seems like she’s listening, but honestly? Only halfway. The other half-

Is glad for an excuse for this pathetic clash to end in a way that still saves face. He wants to make a show of it? Fine, he can have a gods damned show. After a long pause in which she sharply takes in the man in her grasp, the distance between his feet and the floor...]

It seems a woman with whom I owe business would have me release you. You might thank her.

[Important, demon binding business. She announces it just as grandly as the man in her grip had drawn their audience in to the idea of his passive resistance. Hayame might could care less about making her revenge count, or proving him right, but. But-]

But do not think I will not remember your slights against me, elf thing, just because I spare you for your insult now.

[No. She could not forget. And “elf” was a guess, but so far, ears like that had been belonging to people who called themselves elves, so perhaps that was it. Another thing she didn’t mean to ever have to care about-

Like how she didn’t care if Voryn tripped or stumbled when she shoves him bodily back onto the chaise lounge.]

[wolof]

[ Akua smiled at the two of them. One would think it is the smile of a peacekeeper, but her eyes were dark, hooded. She did not take issue with fights, even among allies, but she was not the grandiose woman that the Warden was, and would not be for many years until she had settled into her own Name. As it was, Akua was and never would be the mediator, but she was the type to guide those from going too far.

And while this was not the line, she knew this could only go poorly for Hayame. She could see the string of it, the story where the man manipulated and twisted it, and she could not have that. Not before Hayame and she had the opportunity to bind Sebastian, and she had the opportunity to see how he ticked.

Was she thinking of cutting him open? Absolutely.

Would she cut anyone open? Yes. ]

Now, look at that. We'll get along perfectly well, aren't we? [ A beat. ] At least until a proper opportunity presents itself, correct?

[ Her hand fell from Hayame's arm, with only a slight drift of skin on skin. She did not see the need to show power, particularly when words would do. She had, after all, once been called Heiress. ]

[sharmat]

(when shoved, voryn plants his feet, the toes of the boots bound tightly around his soles to protect them from fire and war, and lowers his centre of gravity. this drives friction up and neuters his slide into the chaise that is only jumped back another inch. there is no stagger, only the hiding of the nail that he once held in his hand within the many folds of a patterned waistbelt. there is no issued thank-you, only the mechanical straightening of rumpled robes.

the women are allies. expression coached into his severe default, voryn time for mild surprise is over. all that's shown of his opinion of it is a thinning of his eyes, finding it distasteful.)

Akua, (the chimer greets her, then turns to hayame to say goodbye.) Nammu. I made few slights and they occurred after your assistance, but I acknowledge these words and agree with them: We're done, but not forever.

Assault me again and I shall kill you. This is the oath I swear to you.

(the foreign term is spoken like the first, softly and calmly, but this time, it carries no ill intent. those curses and foul things will be reserved for future dealings should they make an enemy of each other. while it seems that that is what has occurred today, lord voryn dagoth told hayame before akua's interjection that they should go their separate ways and he is, if nothing else, a man of his word. when they speak, he lets hair like black satin slide off of the back of his hand over his left shoulder, departing without another word.)

[warmare]

[Akua is the only one here smiling, even as sinister or calculated a thing as it might be.

The elf knows how to move at least, he prevents the more easy fall or sprawl most would have stumbled into... but she can not view him as a physical threat. Not right now, anyway. Perhaps he had magic at his call, she had learned not to trust that wasn't an option... but her lips curl back in that toothy snarl whether he has it or not, whether she acknowledged that the new word nammu felt less of an insult than his previous one or not. He wants to swear an oath to her?]

Insult me like that again, and you'll be making that failed attempt with a bloody stump where your tongue used to be.

[She cannot help but snap a vow right back... but there is no need for any words between them. He turns to leave, to just walk away through the vague circle that had assembled around them... and Hayame does the same with a flick of her long, lustrous mane and tail, giving Akua only a brief, terse nod of acknowledgement before she, too, is gone.]