Reunions (E 2.1, H 2.1, L 2.1)

I purse my lips, hesitant to reveal my true emotions, but then I have to do something to gain trust here, traction for trials to come. "If you had asked me a few weeks ago what comes after death," I say just as softly, "I would have said nothing. But since Kiwi...I'm not sure I believe that anymore." I finish the last of my soup and bring my bowl up to the sink beside her. "What does the Gray Wing promise after death?"

I have to intentionally keep myself from giving her a sharp look so as to not undo the moment we just shared. My brows knit together and my mouth twists. "Alone? Or did Merlin accompany him?" I hope it was Merlin and not Javan. The boy is brave and skilled, but lacks finesse and occasionally discernment. "I suppose we can pray that the Gray Wing gives him success and he's able to find the right medicine. Would you like to join me in prayer daughter?"

My instinct is to agree with her. It's not worth chasing. I know exactly where I will end up when I die - I'll become one of the Whispers, caught in the cacophony they create, compelled to cripple the next keeper of the maelstrom just like they do me.

But I push that instinct aside and instead offer, "If it is a dream, then it's one worth chasing." I take a step back from her, giving her a little space. If the Gray Wing leads these people, and if the Gray Wing opposes the Whispers, then there's only one thing I can do. If I'm going to be trapped by my enemy, I should at least know them. "Do you think...your father would introduce me to the Gray Wing? Or..." I struggle to find the right words, words they'd use. "Teach me to...commune with...them?"

I am disappointed, but not surprised that she dodges the invitation to join me as I commune with the Gray Wing. The last ritual with Mynah didn't go as well as I had hoped and Plover has never been comfortable with the intensity of the rite. Joining me in prayer is always an invitation, never a demand. At least, that's how I have chosen to approach it.

She mentions that Syd left with Canary and it makes me ponder what the mariner was doing out this way. Was she hunting for him? Or for Helix? Curious...and unexpected. "Mmm." I grunt in reply. "Well, he's in good hands then." I clear my throat and begin to turn towards the door. "If you change your mind, Plo, you know where to find me." I say, implying that I believe her sidestep to be a declination. I leave the armory and head down the hall toward the central staircase that leads to my chambers.

For all the fear of what asking for this may mean, I can’t deny that seeing Zephyr smile warms my chest. I don’t return it though even as I nod. "Yes." Know thine enemy. I can only hope the enemy won’t eat my mind like the Whispers warned.

Litch,

You're in your chambers when you hear a knock. Zephyr brings Helix to see you. What do your chambers look like?

Helix,

Zephyr takes you through the Roost, asking around for her father. Plover, who gives you a nervous smile, tells Zeph that he's "in communion", so Zephyr hustles with you to see him. How do you enter this place of holiness?

I climb the circular staircase that to the space underneath the old church's main circular cupola. My father and his elder Talons built both the stairs and the flooring underneath the dome to serve as both a chancel and a parish, of sorts. While all of the glass windows remain intact, all but one are covered by simple cloth tapestries. Charcoal sheets of cotton with a single, faded silver wing adoring the center of each. All of them are attached to rope pulleys to raise and lower the tapestries, but I prefer the gloom. It limits distractions. The one left open filters light down to the steel and copper brazier I use for offerings. Appropriate, I think. Near the alter are four candelabras, each holding six candles, though I rarely light all of them for my prayer rituals. Candles are rare and costly.

I push aside another heavy tapestry that hangs over the entrance to the chamber. My canopy bed lies on the opposite side from the altar, adorned with Mage's post-molt feathers, though the bird himself is not currently present. Minstrel rarely flies up to this loft, his brother choosing this patch as his personal territory. Alongside both sides of the bed are mismatching nightstands. Simple, minimal pieces of furniture. Covering the near entirety of the wood-planked floor is a a large rug that presents the only vibrant colors in this space with an ornate pattern of reds, golds, and bits of purple.

I have just removed my hat and set it down atop the table near my bed when I hear two pairs of steps ascending the stairs behind me. I busy myself with gathering implements for my ritual. Expecting Plover and perhaps Kestrel, I greet them with my back turned to the entrance. "I'm glad you've come to join me daughter. Both of you are most welcome."

The sailors at the Belly used to tell stories of what it felt like to sail into a storm, the stillness before the first whip of the wind. That is the feeling I get when I step into the tapestry-covered room behind Zephyr: a stillness portending a storm.

Litch greeting us both with his back still turned sends a shiver across my skin. Did the Gray Wing warn him I was coming just like the Whispers secret the future to me? I swallow as I move into the space, enveloped by the gloom of the storm clouds shielding out most of the light. I've never been a religious person, so I don't know if there are rituals I should follow, but the safest course seems to be respect at least, and silence is safest there, so I wait, quiet.

Neither person responds to me, but waits in silence. Or perhaps reverence. After I've gathered the materials for the prayer ritual, I finally turn around. I see Zephyr first and am only mildly surprised to see her instead of Plover. I cannot hide my surprise or curiosity when I see her companion. "Helix. Is there something that you need?" I start to set the implements down on the bed in order to properly see to the requests of my guest.

My heart squeezes at Litch’s acknowledgement. I glance at Zephyr as if she might answer for me before realizing how weak that makes me seem. I look back to Litch. "I thought that if I’m here for the reasons you say…then I should meet the Gray Wing myself. Only…I don’t know how."

Inwardly, I'm overjoyed that the promising young girl is willing, if perhaps not enthusiastic to speak with the Gray Wing. I try not to let my excitement show beyond more than a small grin - I don't want to make her uncomfortable taking this step. "Alright. I was about to speak to her myself. Come," I beckon her to follow me to the altar where I set the items in my arms on the ground next to the brazier and begin to light a fire in it's basin. "Zephyr, why don't you join us?" I encourage my daughter.

It doesn't take long to light the fire. I grab a candle from the nearest candelabra and use it to light three more. Next, I take out paper infused with oil and incense and set it in the brazier. As the smoke begins to curl, I pull out my knife and turn first to Helix. "This is your first time. I do not expect you to give anything to the Gray Wing but your curiosity and willing spirit. When I pray, I have found that my connection is stronger when I give something her something precious to me." With practiced ease, I prick the end of my thumb-tip until I draw blood. "And what could be more precious than my own life's essence?" I let the blood fall into the brazier, to mix with smoke and flame. "The feather," I smile, holding up the black plume. "Is just an extra touch. She appreciates the small bit of symbolism, I think."

I watch with quiet consternation as Litch moves through the motions in this monastery, moving up to watch the flame in the brazier licking at the paper, singeing the edges increasingly black. When he turns to me, knife in hand, I stiffen, suddenly certain I've settled myself in the seat of a sinister snare, but he only sacrifices of himself and I let out a quiet breath. He is truly unwell in the head, but he did save me once at the Belly. Why harm me now?

Not a second later, I find myself reaching for the knife. In for a wine, in for a whiskey. I cut the fleshy part of my hand below my thumb and wait for enough blood to well that when I turn my hand over the brazier, a viscous drop falls to the flame.

"Only one chance for a first impression," I say, handing the knife back to him.

I nod in approval of Helix's willingness to jump in with both feet. "Indeed." Zephyr is here as a witness and secondary participant, so I don't offer her the knife, instead wiping it off with a cloth and tucking it into the folds of my duster. I then take Helix's hand and hold it above the fire, giving it a slight shake to make the blood drop into the flames. "Don't be alarmed. My voice may sound...different for a little bit."

I start to murmur my low, rumbling chant, still holding her hand in my own, her blood slithering down my wrist in a slow trickle. I prepare to open my soul and guide her to the ethereal realm of the Gray Wing. I hear Minstrel's higher-pitched croaking chortle from Zephyr's shoulder. Nice touch, bird. I add my own voice his with a low-toned, croaking vibrato, then breathe out slowly, emptying myself so that I may be filled with her greater essence. "Gray Wing above. Enlighten the path before us. I bring before you the Chosen, the Voice of the Tempest you have bade me find for your blessing."