where the heart is - Printable Version

old friends and new - echoes of wishes

The Wish magic that drifted through Draco did not belong here. It was not antithesis to the Chaos that throbbed at the nearby Spire, but it was alien to it; as though it might entwine with it, alter it, or perhaps clash with it. It did not head that way, however, and if the Black Spire's power recognized such a presence, it did not react.

This was an old magic, and an echo of what had come before, and alien and yet oh-so-familiar. It curved like a breeze, twisting between the two who were deep in conversation, touching on them both.

There it slowed, paused, curling through them with a promise. It was not as strong as what had come before, but they felt it: a chance, the briefest of moments to give something to the other. To Wish it. They had only a flash of time. No chance to discuss. No long minutes of soft debate, or calculation. Only this moment, a whim, the instinct to guide the spark of magic toward a gift. Would they choose something the other truly would like, adore, fall in love with, respect, feel forever grateful for? Or would their gift be a mistake, a misstep, well-intentioned but easily forgotten?

There was no time for second-guessing. Each of them felt it: the offer, for that split second, of making something come true for their companion.

__________

Each Gembound has only an instant to decide upon a Wish for their thread partner. While the players are free to discuss OOCly, the Gembounds themselves are the ones making this Wish: it should not use out-of-character information but should instead reflect the intent and beliefs of the Wish-makers.

Please GM tag a second time to have a Game Master confirm that all Wishes are viable.

Zoey considered the Master's words on gender and pronoun useage, and gave a small nod. "I wouldn't," she promised, "but it does not upset me to be seen as a 'she' or an 'it'." She considered for a moment longer, and found it prudent to add: "I have known many 'she's' who are lovely and wonderful, beautiful gembound in this nest. I've always wanted to be like them." Like Venari, like Pollen, like..

... Like Mary.

The thought sent a shiver through her carapace at the core memory, one that had been a foundational building block of her life.

Zoey pushed the thought back for now, as Master Vargas extended another offer and a reminder of what her new place in the Forge afforded her. "I understand," she said, and for once, meant it simply and earnestly. It did not strike any particular emotional core, but it did mean that it afforded her some opportunity: to act not as Overseer to the meat of the Forge, but to at least have some sway in their lives. It was a thought that clicked into place: an understanding of rank that she had known since birth given a new light.

Then: "Blacksmith?" Zoey raised her head, "Related to the Sentinel?" It was an estimation. "And-- V-Onyx-Two." She had only seen that one in passing--

Something settled between them now, a whisper of magic that came so suddenly that it broke her focus on the conversation entirely. Was this something Master Vargas had done, or something even more ancient? It didn't matter, really, because deep down in her heart, she already had an answer for what she wanted for Vargas.

For all of the Forge, really.

She wanted him to feel what she felt so intimately: the understand what family was to her and that he was apart of it, that she saw him as a guardian and someone who she loved unconditionally; a bond that was so strong that not even the worst pain could sever her from her connection to him, to the Forge, to all that she saw as her family. She wanted the rest of the Forge to understand, of course, to know Family as she knew it, that love that existed regardless, in spite of, and because of all of the faults and flaws. To love the monster not because it was actually kind inside, but to love the monster simply for being. Because it was, and it would always be, a part of her.

... it was... a difficult thing to express, especially for Zoey who had been given none of the guidance, much less vocabulary, to speak of such things. But it was something that had been a guiding light in her heart for so long, that she simply could not direct her will anywhere else. It followed the light. It hoped, pleaded, and begged for Master Vargas to see it too, and to know it, to feel it, to understand.

What were they talking about again? "-- ah," her mandibles clacked, disoriented as though the very earth had been pulled out from under her talons. She-- she should say something, shouldn't she? Did he feel that same thing? Or was she...

- THE LEVIATHAN -

The magic touched him, and he recognized it at once as foreign to him. As-...

No, it couldn't be that. -Could it? No. But of all the things he thought of, staring at Zoey-? Panic was at the forefront. Uncharacteristic. Foreign. Intense. The sudden thought of what might be that magic's source. The meaning of it. The connection to-

He shut that thought down. And fervent, immediate, his fearful mind went somewhere else. Keep her safe from that. Always. Forever. If she finds out-... If she ever finds out. I do not wish to have to kill her. Do not let her ever find out. Or if she does... or at the end-... Protect her from it.

And after the magic had swept away, too late: Protect them all.

old friends and new - echoes of wishes

The magic curled between them, its unconscious power shaped by their wills. Each were struck by a sudden, powerful emotion, similar but from very different origins--and each were given a trinket of a gift.

The knowledge imparted to Master Vargas was a full, complete experience of the emotions that Zoey was feeling. For a creature who genuinely felt little, it was likely overwhelming. A web of connections he was not privy to now unfurled before him, links reaching out to all the Forge. At the tip of his left ocular horn, as though it had always been there, a piercing appeared: a small, dark purple metal serpent with chrysoberyl eyes and tail. It was tiny, compared to the Leviathan, hooped through hide and seeming to consume itself. Vargas would know that it held the power to magnify and focus a magic he did not yet know: the ability to gain insight into the emotions of others. Feelings toward him, in particular, he would feel as if they were his own.

Zoey was granted emotion, and knowledge, of another sort. Fear, first and foremost--but it wasn't hers. And a strange knowledge, a certainty, that her trust in Vargas was not misplaced: despite his harshness, at times, he was struggling, half-blind and walking a deadly balancing act, in an attempt to reach some unseen but just goal. He was trying to do right, and the slightest misstep could kill them all. And to that end: a key.

A small, black skeleton key, simple but enchanted--and nearly unbreakable--wrought iron on a little chain, like a necklace, clinked around Zoey's neck. A new whisper of knowledge came with it, threefold: first, that this was a place that she could safely place her memories, hiding them from sight, to protect this tightrope walk or for any other reason. Second, that the key was to a place, as well: and she was granted a vision of an alcove against the northwest fall of Pegasus, perhaps half an hour's travel from the farm up along a forested hill, hidden as an overgrown hole among thick underbrush. It delved into the wall of the cave, and within was a simple room someone had once dug out as a personal quarters: a den, hidden from the outside world. It held a few once-baubled stones on silver chains from the ceiling, now defunct; and a small thread of running water curled around one edge. A strange, blue crystal was held in silver metal at the center of the room, firmly attached to the floor. Memories could be placed in this, as well. Taken from her, to the crystal; the crystal, to the key; the key, to the crystal... and so on. And third: this key, this crystal, they were now attuned to Zoey. No one else could use them, or read them; not by force, and not by magic.

The magic lingered for a moment before it faded, wisping away beyond this cave.

__________

Vargas has received a small earring (and a free piercing) that allows a special, focused use of the spell Lesser Empathy. Casts will allow him to experience the emotions of the spell's target as directed toward him, allowing him to feel how others feel about him.

Zoey has received an enchanted key that allows her to store chosen memories, and also unlocks a safe haven that holds a crystal with similar magic. Others cannot enter her haven without her truly desiring them to be there. Memories may be moved freely between Zoey, the crystal, and the key, but while stored, she cannot access them or even know what is missing. She can, however, make mental notes of the contents of the stored memories, so that she knows when (or when not) to retrieve them, or what category of memory they might be.

It was a feeling that Zoey had known: a nameless anxiety, one that hung around the adults of her life from childhood, a nameless thing that threatened them all. This thing remained nameless for all but the fear of Death, and she thought she was a step closer to understanding it. (The woman, Lord Dhracia, perhaps only a small part of this greater, deadly threat.) If it brought fear to the Orthoclase, it terrified her. If it brought fear to Vargas-- then.

The weight upon her neck was negligible. The chain sat neatly upon her carapace, brushing the edges of her quilled underbelly where it hung. She raised a taloned paw to gently adjust the key, looking down at it with curiosity. For another non-bipedal creature, it might have been difficult to look at the key, but her unique upside-down quality made this task almost second nature. She was taken off-guard by the purpose of the key, and briefly overwhelmed. What would she do with it? What memories would she want to lock away?

But it took only a moments thought to reconsider the gift in context of Master Vargas and his fear. The fact that he granted her autonomy with this brief, instant moment; to keep whatever secrets she may, from him and from anyone else, was a giant reach of faith. Of trust. He wanted her to be safe, above all else, in that little moment.

"Master Vargas, I..." The words crept out from her, awestruck by the gesture. "... Thank you."

She had no idea what she would do with it, but that didn't matter.

Zoey looked up again, six eyes searching for a response from him. She spotted the strange loop upon his brow-- horn?-- face, after a puzzled moment, and didn't know what to make of it. There were several conflicting questions in her mind, and she stumbled her way through one of them: "... Do you know... What that was?" Still a bit too shy to ask if he liked his gift in return. Hers, by comparison (though she did not know what exactly he had asked), felt rather selfish.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

For only the briefest instant, he found knowledge of what he'd been given and wondered, Why 'feedback loop?' Then the wave of full emotions crashed into him.

Fear, feeding off his, and no doubt into itself as Zoey felt his own, and he hers all over again, in turn.

Vargas had once told Lord Dhracia--among many others within the caves--that he had not been designed for social emotions such as love. He hadn't been entirely wrong. Nor entirely right; he did have an inkling, given the circumstances and purpose of his creation. With a traitor behind his designing, there had been--most likely--an attempt to slip in characteristics that Astraea, for example (let alone He) would not approve of. Never mind that Nemean had granted her life, and her element. That meant nothing. But whatever 'gifts' Tamulus had given him, nothing he had felt (bar bloodlust and triumph) had ever touched this... intensity.

He physically reeled, staggering back and landing on his haunches, breath caught. Eyes stared over, past Zoey, then snapped down to blink at her. The irony was that even with that brush of magic, he couldn't decipher Zoey whatsoever. There was so much there: so much of it soft, yet intense, like drowning in warm feathers. He struggled to pick one feeling from the next in that tide, to label or sort them out, as was his instinct; he found that he could not. A grunt escaped him, almost pained, and he shook his head--but then it was fading, leaving him feeling... empty.

Logic swirled to fill the gap. If I choose to use this, I will need practice. It will help give me insight, he reasoned, with some struggle. But he found that it wasn't... pleasant. It was overwhelming, alien, but...

He blinked back down to Zoey. How do you live like that? he thought, and given his state he was lucky he didn't also blurt it aloud. He took a breath. And then his eyes found the key, and settled there, suddenly curious. He was about to ask, but her question-... he already had a suspicion as to the answer, didn't he?

"I suspect," he said, at last, voice kept carefully quiet and even as he regained some self-control. "I suspect that it was a power that does not often come here. If... I am not mistaken... it has its influence. But it holds no designs on us; it is... safe." Was that what she was asking-? No, probably not, but Vargas was a thorough sort. "What is that?" he asked, at length, nodding to the key. He hesitated.

"I sensed that it would grant--gifts. Did you-? I hoped that you would have... safety, from certain things." He hesitated, still threaded through with the memories of warmth. "Things I haven't spoken of, and will not. You are welcome, but I did not... create this magic. Is it safety? This gift?" he went on, studying it. It struck him, then, that if it were, it might be equally dangerous for him to know. "Don't tell me the details," he hastened to say, "But is it safety?"

He could tell her what he had been given, of course. But another question, first, tacked confusedly onto the last: "What did you hope to give me?" It was neither a demand, nor mocking; it still held a lost, distant tone, as though Vargas had just gone very far away, on a long, long journey, and only just returned--weary and dazed.

When Zoey looked up, she saw the Leviathan reeling, breath hitching in his massive throat. It was enough to make her fret-- but it faded before long, and he was able to respond to her.

Vargas provided less answers than questions with his response, but Zoey wasn't about to pry any deeper into this mysterious wish-giver. Don't look a gift monster in the horse and all that. It was enough for her Master to promise that it was safe.

As for his own question: "It's... My key," Zoey answered, and haltingly paused before she gave all the details that he didn't seem to want. "It's very safe," she promised, "it will protect me. Don't worry." She wasn't sure how it would protect her, but she was certain that it would find a way. It brought her great comfort just knowing that he wanted that for her.

With that, though, he also wanted to know what her wish was for. And she hadn't put it in exact words herself... Instead, it had just been a feeling. So now she had to figure out how to explain it to him, and felt her flesh recoil from her carapace with embarrassment. It was a pinchy feeling. Her talons dug into the stone as she propped herself up, and turned her gaze away, past Vargas toward the distant, thrumming Aperture.

"I wanted you to..." Her mandibles clicked. "It's hard to explain." Click, click, shut... Click. "It's a connection that I wanted to share with you."

It was so difficult to put into words without using the words that felt forbidden to her. They had almost broached the subject before, but she had tiptoed around it. The only thing that gave her the will to speak of it was that he had told her, back then, that she could talk to him even if he wasn't Orthoclase-Alpha.

"... cht," she stuttered, "you told me this nest was not a place for families. But we are-- we are a family. I've known this since I was a grub. Maybe it is a... Bad wish... But your creator is not here, and mine is..." Her voice drifted, uncertain as she swayed, head leaning one way and the other as she meandered through the words. "... we still have each other."

- THE LEVIATHAN -

As he listened, as he watched her awkward attempts and soft stutters, he almost wished he could feel what she meant. Almost.

Almost, because he had just had a taste of it, and it had been overwhelming. Almost, because it was a complication, and a painful one. Even the best of those emotions seemed laced with poison, bittersweet at best, the potential loss threaded through joy a noose prepared to tighten at any time.

...But Vargas couldn't say that. To do so would be to deny her gift had value to him. And it did. He sought the right words, leaning back a smidge as he considered. Though he was always honest and blunt--as best he could be--he was never the best conversationalist. But for Zoey... he would try.

"I believe your gift will benefit the entire Forge," he told her, quiet and earnest. "Not only I, but all of them, too, even if you did not mean it to." One forelimb came up, his hand gesturing helplessly. "It is... as you say, difficult to explain." (Humor, touching his words, warm.) "But while some of the Forge are quite content, many are not. And I find it beyond myself, much of the time, to comprehend them. As I have told you, I was not made for it, and many of you--by accident--were. That is not a bad thing but it does mean that there is a gap in understanding. A... to use a weak metaphor, a ravine or the like that sits between us. This, I think--what you have given me--will help me to understand them better. But it will take practice! What I felt from you in the moment the gift was given, was..." he sought the right phrasing, again, as six eyes stared off into the middle distance. "More than I can comprehend. It will take time to make sense of what I saw--felt--but I will set time aside, I promise you, to do so. It is a good wish," he assured her, as if closing off all those thoughts.

A nod, then, to the key. And his tone became quieter, more solemn, as he spoke again. "I am glad that it is safety." And that was all he said, on that front. He couldn't tell her the details, could not hint, could not murmur the slightest discussion on the topic. A stray thought from her, an inquisitive mind paired with the right magic, could undo... everything.

He did not know how, or even if, the key might affect that. But he fervently hoped that it would help.

If only I had had the opportunity to speak with it-... he thought, and closed his eyes for a beat considering what might have been.

It was all she could wish for. Something to help the whole of the Forge. "I hope so," Zoey replied, "... I hope it helps you, and helps everyone else too." It was certainly wishful thinking, but it didn't seem too far of a stretch to believe that it could become true. She may have held more doubt, if not for her Master's steady confidence. Vargas was grounding, a towering tree to take shelter under during the fiercest of storms.

"If I can help you practice," she offered, craning her head to stare up into his sharp, lime green eyes. "I will." There was a slight pause, and a click again as she opened and closed her mandibles, grinding them together in thought. "... It is overwhelming," she agreed, "I was often overwhelmed, when I was younger."

Sometimes, even still. They had their own ways of... dealing with that. It gets easier, was not a lie that she could tell him. The truth was that you would get stronger.

"... But it is worth knowing," she said, "worth understanding."

The fact that he was willing to accept such a gift told her more than words could, regardless. She did not think that he had been born without, so much as shielded from. A sense that was blocked off and neglected for millennia.

... Given time, she knew he could come to work with it. He had an open mind, and a kindness to him that he tiptoed around. She hoped that it wouldn't be too hard, and that he wouldn't hurt in the same ways that she often hurt... But, she knew he would manage.

"Is there someone in particular?" She asked suddenly, the thought flicking out like words before she thought better of it. "-- Not to pry," a wince, quills rattling, "but... Someone in particular who is across that ravine?"

- THE LEVIATHAN -

"It is a good offer, and I may take you up on it." Then her question...

Ahh, but she didn't need to pry. Vargas was honest, generally speaking, and he was now, too. "Most of the Forge," was his blunt reply. "Though I am not sure on the truth of things." Ahh, the thoughtful demeanor was back; he considered his words for a moment before continuing. "I have long believed--I think that I still do--that those in our era were not created with the capacity to feel as these... modern, evolved creatures do. It is a long story. But any of those in the Forge descended even in part from these, I think, have a wholly different mindset than I do. One foreign to me." The love, the emotions--things he'd spoken about at length to V-Onyx-Three. "I imagine that would be overwhelming, at first. But now I wonder if some of us did have that capacity and those simply did not survive." 'Killed off for being weak,' but he'd not say that. Not in front of Zoey.

Curiosity struck him, then, and his massive head tilted as he peered down at her.

"Let me ask you a question: why? Why is it worth it, in the end?" His words held genuine interest.

It felt like such a painful thing. How could it possibly be worthwhile, in the end? What did they gain from it?

What could possibly be worth that, rather than living calm, controlled, and confident in one's place?