Chapter 5: Pleased to Meet You

Elora decides to shut up around Ember, believing this is a "volatile situation". She reserves herself to quietly eating soup and listening to Willitan's recount. "It called itself a guardian. Very powerful." She does correct him near the end for the sake of accuracy. "Sorry. That was rude."

Not at all Elora. She is correct, he is a Guardian. He was very powerful, but also very sad and, I think, lonely.

He looks to Elora.

Did you get that sense as well?

Yelnar tilts his head back and looks at Ember askew. "Hah! Laid back? My brain is constantly churning things over, it just doesn't have a wide street to my mouth like yours." He grins, happy with his analogy. "Yours is like a big street in the city, mine is like a meandering trail that sometimes disappears altogether. Maybe if they could smoosh us into one person between us we'd be vaguely normal." He puts a bit of a scornful emphasis on the word normal, suggesting he has no desire for it at all.

He looks down at his hands and says "I dunno, I have trouble thinking things through without getting distracted. I find the meditation helps me focus." He looks up at Ember with a wry expression and says "I'm done with living to other people expectations Em. Seeing all thats happened, I can't really screw things up anymore than they already have been, so I need to step up and just do my best."

Elora ponders the question. "Yes. At first I he was angry, and was scared he would try to hurt us, like an angry protector seeking retribution for the damage done. It's been quite some time since anyone has made contact, and after witnessing an event such as the mage wars." She pauses, trying to find the right words. "But despite all this he was still full of hope, and so should we, I think."

While Yelnar speaks, Ember sits up. She slouches, but she cracks a smile when he mentions "normal" and others' expectations.

I don't think "normal" exists anymore, Big Guy. Though, maybe it never did...

She doesn't speak for a minute.

Yelnar, for a long time, you were the only friend I had. And that was assuming you weren't just polite to your waitress. And then this mess started, and, I really want to be connected to everyone! I do! But I always screw it up, and I'm scared for what would happen to them.

She smirks.

Guess I've always trusted you could take care of yourself. But, with Verrian, I....
I don't know.
She's got something hurting her. I can see it, because I have it too. But she's so much better put together than me. And I don't know if we're friends, or she pities me, or I'm just excited to have a different voice in my head that isn't mocking me for once.

Her voice chokes up.

But I let my guard down around her, and now she thinks I hate Coreene, and how can I compete with another Naucan anyway? But she knows how...how small I am, and she's not going to suddenly not know that, and...and...

She sits in a stiff version of how Yelnar sits to meditate, but it's clear she doesn't know what she's doing.

Uelten Swan wishes he had a pipe to smoke, that would be so much more in character, he thinks. But he listens intently to Wil's story, but when he gets to the Guardian, his eyes become raptor focussed.

"I'm compiling everything I can find about the War of the Mage Kings. Part as a lore keeper, part for reasons that," he waves at everything all around, "should be obvious. Can you be clear about what you were shown about the end of the mage wars?" If Wil is willing, he'll question him mercilessly to extract as much detail as he can.

Oh Wil will take any chance he can to tell a story. Consider yourself told.

Coreene sighs at Verrian's question. I have. Things are... not good. Our people are surviving, and learning how to rebuild without magic, though it is slow going... She shifts uncomfortably. But they have grown quiet. The kinships fell apart; everyone only trusting their family, and sometimes not even that...
Coreene shares images of a Naucan city, and how she was treated with fear and mistrust when she arrived. There are people trying to change that, but their ideas can be, difficult to accept. The image of a Naucan, a soft-faced man in flowing vestments speaking to a crowd. They spoke of love and trust among the Naucans, but their words hid poison that few were able to see. They were so desperate to return to their old lives that they were willing to give up anything that was not Naucan. To the point where they would not tolerate those who were not Naucan within the cities. They would be forced into the wilds, or... well... they were not tolerated.
Coreene hugs herself tighter, as she shows herself and another, their face blurred by her mind's eye, trying to escape the city by cover of darkness. Then, shouting and running, from themselves and from others who had discovered them. They did not want to let us go. We were Naucan, and belonged with our people, they said. Flashes of light, the searing pain of a wound on her side, and the strain of running as fast and as far as she could. The images cease after this, and Coreene is silent for a time.

As Coreene shares the fate of Nauca, Verrian feels her jaw slowly drop. Her face grows numb and cold as the words and images describe a Nauca she had never imagined possible... one full of hate and mistrust, one where the vital warmth and nourishment of the kinships had somehow been dismantled and destroyed.

Her chest has tightened and she realizes she needs to breathe, then realizes that she's not breathing because her chest is tight.

It's not possible, she thinks, not realizing that she's sharing it. It just can't be! All these years of wondering, hoping, and... this just can't be true. She's pressed her palms to her face and doesn't realize that she's sunk onto her knees until she feels the cool ground against her legs.

Coreene sinks down to the ground with Verrian, wrapping an arm around her to comfort her. I am sorry... I know it is not what you wanted to hear. I wish just as dearly that it wasn't true. She shares her grief with Verrian.

When her emotions allow for more coherent thinking, those thoughts explode into rapid-fire demands for more information. How did this come about? What happened to our national government? Who was the man in the vestments?

And then more pointedly, You've had that whitestone disc all this time, and didn't report any of this back to Meriava? Don't you realize how many of us were trapped there, starving for any scrap of information about our homeland?

Keeping her arm around Verrian, she moves slightly so that she can look her in the eyes. I did report it. It took me awhile to get in contact. I don't think I stopped running until I was sure I was outside of Nauca's borders, and only then did I stop to take care of my wounds. I told Athisa everything I knew and everything that I could guess about the situation, but we were unsure if the fate of Nauca should spread. I left it in her hands to discuss with some trusted colleagues within the kinship there. I guess we know what their decision was...
She takes a deep breath and lets go of Verrian, moving around to sit in the dirt in front of her. I don't know how it all happened. We only just arrived during the rebuilding efforts. The government seemed to remain... largely intact. Honestly it was hard to get a straight answer out of anyone, and the answers we did get, we weren't sure we could trust. The man in the vestments is Jennar of Quai. He is the face of the movement I told you about, to rebuild the kinships.

Verrian absorbs all of what Coreene is telling her, but she's only really focused on the first bit. She goes very, very still, sharing nothing until Coreene has finished and there is silence for a long moment.

Then there is a very measured transmission, tightly controlled. You're telling me... they knew. Athisa. KNEW.

Coreene, slightly taken aback by the intensity behind the transmission, simply nods.

That's all it takes, a simple nod of the head, to fling open the gates of hell. Verrian grabs onto whatever vegetation is nearby with both hands and yanks it from the dirt with a guttural scream, simulataneously blasting Coreene with what can only be described as an incandescent blanket of distilled purple fury.

As Verrian launches to her feet, she adds words to the broadcast as she paces and gestures with her arms. She knew all along! She sent me out here, to this hellscape, under the pretense that she knew NOTHING about Nauca. Gods know what else she kept from us - things that could have helped us when we needed it? Things that could keep us ALIVE?

She stops, looks at Coreene, then turns abruptly. Come on. We're going to get some answers. She stalks back in the direction of the cabin, shouting, "Elora! Get out that whitestone disc. I have a call to make!"

As soon as Verrian screams, Ember snaps out of it, looks at Yelnar wide-eyed, and sprints back to the cabin.

Verrian!

She basically trips through the door. Her eyes dart between the Naucans. Ember can't read facial colors, but she knows this is bad.

Verrian, what happened??

Coreene stares wide-eyed at Verrian, unprepared for the rage she just witnessed. It isn't until after she is walking meekly behind Verrian after being ordered along that she realizes she is being intimidated by a girl she likely taught when she was still at the Veridium College. Though, looking at the storm of anger pulsing from her thoughts, she thought it best not to bring that up that fact.

With the scream, Uelten rushes outside, his weapon in hand. Seeing both women okay, he lowers it. He seeks Coreene's gaze, moving toward her. Gently, he says, "What do you need?"

Verrian tosses Uelten a glare, for no reason other than that he's there, and stomps past him into the cabin. Inside, she knows that her facial markings are probably pulsing scarlet, but she doesn't care. When Ember asks what happened, Verrian stops to look at her and shares, There's hell to pay, and the bill has come due.

To Elora, she says thickly, "Where's the whitestone disc?", her hand outstretched impatiently.

Coreene shares an apologetic look with Uelten. Just come. I think we all need to be a part of this...