Chapter 5: Pleased to Meet You

Hell to....

She's not speaking out loud. Nobody can hear her. She takes a cautious stance slightly, but not completely, between Verrian and Elora.

Hell to pay for what, Verrian? The disc means it's something about Meriava, right? Breathe, and tell us what happened. Please.

Contrary to what most people think of me, I do know when to keep my mouth shut. I believe that time is now.

"Say the word, my friend, and I shall eviscerate your enemies, in immortal verse!" Swan follows her inside, beckoning at Ember and the other one, to join them Yagnut, was it? No, Yelnar.

"Not about Meriava! About Nauca!" But of course, that's not entirely true. "And Meriava. They lied, they-- Oh, stop it, Ember. I'm not angry at Elora or anyone else here. Just give me that disc!" She spins around to face Coreene. "Or yours will do. Someone just give me a disc before..." She looks around at everyone present. "Before I really get angry."

Coreene quickly scrambles to get the disk from her pocket and hands it to Verrian.

Ember squeezes Elora's shoulder and tries to smile reassuringly at Pip.

Didn't think you were mad at us. Please, Verrian. Take one deep breath before you call her. You don't want her hanging up...

Activating the disc, Verrian waits, waving off Ember's plea. Partially assuaged by having acquired the disc, her facial markings are no longer pulsing scarlet. Now they are flickering between red, purple, and nearby shades of blue.

Yelnar is alarmed at Verrian's loss of control. Already being aware that information coming in and out of the school is murky, Yelnar is not surprised that Athisa has not been entirely forthcoming.

"Verrian of Cyr." he says as formally as he can manage, letting the words hang there for a moment.

"Verrian of Cyr, Envoy to Meriava, well met." Yelnar bows formally, looking to mimic as best he can what he imagines might occur with a formal, diplomatic greeting in order to remind Verrian of herself. He probably looks more than a little bit absurd.

"I understand you are the aggrieved party here, let us consider the issue at hand more deeply before we decide upon a course of action."

Having exhausted his imagination for this kind of interaction, Yelnar looks hopefully around the rest of the party, hoping someone more competent at talking might take the reins.

Verrian finds herself struggling to hold onto her rage. It feels so alive, so energizing. But part of her isn't as enthused about it, and she knows that struggling to hold onto it means that doing so is a bad idea.

Breathing hard, she looks down at the floor. Finally, she meets Yelnar's eyes again and nods, ever-so-slightly.

Verrian deactivates the disc.

Ember looks at Yelnar in disbelief, and chuckles to let out the nervous energy. She ignores the family history broadcast.

Thanks, Big Guy. Let's all just, take a seat? Try to breathe. Tell us what happened. Uelten, maybe you can moderate.

She glances at Coreene but lowers her eyes quickly, then starts to make some tea.

Verrian lowers the hand still holding the disc, mostly because it's shaking. The rage is still coursing through her, body and soul, but there's room now for hurt. And embarrassment. And grief.

They knew, she shares. They knew so much more than they told us. I don't know how many people they have outside the wards with these discs, but they've been getting intelligence from sources like Coreene.

She sits on the bed with her backpack and weapons on it, her head hanging, face still awash in red, blues, and purples. Nauca fell apart after the war. Now it's a xenophobic mess. Coreene reported this years ago. Athisa knew.

A pause, then, Adaye knew. Coreene can hear and feel how much admitting that breaks Verrian.

Swan sits between those who believes are in conflict, Verrian and Coreene. "I am told that in the traditions of old Rhamia, there is a hymn often sung when anger boils over. It is an ancient one, full of somber notes and reflection. Listen to my words, key them fill you."

He starts in a deep baritone.
"Oh, on the morrow we'll be on our way
Carry on my resolute child
We'll find out path through desolate days
Wish me well, farewell the child."

His voice rises an octave.
"Rain has come too early my dear
Our sorrow speaks but no one can hear
Who is left our children have gone.
Drawn to wars rhythmic drum."

He hums slowly into silence.

"Deep breath, and tell me your fear, Verrian."

Verrian wills herself not to snap at this perfectly well-meaning person. She forces herself to listen as politely as possible when he begins singing, but finds herself comforted almost in spite of herself. Peripherally, she's impressed by how cleanly he skips up an octave. A lot of bards she's met would kill to achieve that.

"I'm not afraid," she says in answer to his question, then grits her teeth at how defensive she sounds. "I'm outraged. Enraged. The people who sent us out here kept important information from us, and that is very likely going to put us in more danger. We can't avoid hazards that are completely unknown to us. We can't... I've been hoping more than anything to go home and find out what became of my clan. I've just learned that if I had taken this party to Nauca, I would probably have gotten them all hurt." She swallows. "Perhaps even executed."

Swan nods grimly. "And you, Coreene, what is it that you fear when this is admitted out loud?"

Elora can only remain as quiet as a mouse during Verrain's, well outburst. She knows Verrain has been under quite a bit of stress, probably more then anyone else in the party. But still, to see her lose her nerve, it's a bit unsettling, scary even. Scarier still are her words, if even half of them are true then their situation is far more dire then Elora could imagine.

"...What do we do? Can w-we even trust Athisa now?" Eyes downcast, Elora feels totally without direction, like any path forward at this point will not give way to completion while their enemies advance with their machinations and schemes.

One thing I have learned since the mage wars ended, is that while depending on yourself is important, what will get you through the troubles the world throws at you, is a tight group of friends.

He takes a beat to look at everyone, one by one.

If you have that, then you can stand anything. Now, I don't know the woman you speak with, nor do I know why she would have lied to you, but if she never wanted you to find this out, she could gave prevented this meeting. She must have known it would cost her trust.

I am not saying that you trust her from here on in, just remember that while you have lost someone you trust, hopefully you have found more who you do trust.

Another thought hits him.

Verrian, do you think the Naucans that I told you about may have been traveling for the same reason? And maybe where they were going is a meeting place for others who have been displaced.

Verrian's heart breaks a little as she thinks, for the first time, of the fallout of her unconsidered actions. But no, she refuses to take responsibility for Elora's loss of trust. It is Athisa, not Verrian, who has violated the trust of this very young group of adventurers.

Still, Elora is frightened now, to a degree she wasn't before, and Verrian can't help but feel badly about that.
Wil's question takes Verrian aback, so focused is she on Athisa's (and Adaye's) failure to mention clearly vital information prior to their departure from Meriava. She has to stop and remember what Wil had told her about the Naucans he'd met in his travels.

Putting a hand to her forehead as she struggles to redirect her thinking, she says, "In light of what Coreene has said about the current state of Nauca, I would guess that Boslo and his family were fleeing Nauca to escape the hardline xenophobia. They were probably lucky to get out, just as Coreene..." She trails off, remembering the truncated images and the pain surrounding the memory of Coreene's escape. That's not Verrian's story to tell.

"As for the other Naucan you described," she resumes, "the one who was almost albino... If it's the person I think it is, he was probably working for the xenophobic movement." She hesitates. "He sounds like my cousin, Daro of Cyr. We grew up together - he's a couple of years older than I. We were very close, but sometime in his teens, he started to talk a lot about 'Naucan superiority' and the dangers of 'polluting' our society with ideas and interactions with our 'foreign inferiors.' He tried to get me to come to a meeting about it once. So I'm very much afraid that when you met him, he was traveling in service of the new regime in Nauca. What exactly he was doing, I can't really say."

Well this sucks.

Ember silently serves tea. She's lucky Coreene was able to find some flowers used to mellow. They apparently need it.

She tries, really hard, to focus on her cantrips when she reaches the Naucans. She nudges the steam on Verrian's tea to the shape of a flower with one petal left. As Wil speaks and more steam rises, she adds petals back, which complete the flower and wrap it back into a bud. Some plants do that at night, right?

When Verrian talks about her racist cousin, Ember turns to Coreene. This image, well, looks like a hasty charcoal drawing on a dirt floor. She hopes it gets the point across. A tiny dog-like creature helps attack an unseen foe. The pup accidentally bites a pack member, and reels back, tail between its legs.

Ember tends to the fire. There's something centering about playing tavern girl again.

Another rather dark thought enters Elora's mind. "Verrain?" She manages to bring her head back up, and begins relaying her thoughts without abiding by the age old rule of "think before you speak". "If these Naucans mean us harm, does that...well...if it comes down to it, will we have to fight them? I don't want to hurt anyone and- I'm sorry."

Having said her piece she blushes intensely and stares back at the floor, quite certain that wasn't appropriate in the slightest or all that helpful to their situation.