aterat | (no subject)

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Who; Everyone!
What; Pulse log; REMEMBRANCE
Where; Throughout the City
When; August 8th - 15th
Warnings; Will update when and as necessary

In the days leading up to August 8th, the city is abuzz with activity. Businesses in the Merchant district have posted notices they will be closed the following week in observance of something called “Remembrance”. The Aspects are absent this week, though that doesn’t seem particularly out of the ordinary, and it’s easy to get caught up in what is quite a celebratory time in the city. Harvests and meats are being brought in from the outlying farms, the main square is being cordoned into stalls for food, drink, and performances. The guard is more present this week, keeping a close eye on the organization and watching for any miscreants.

As the time of the festival approaches, a quiet excitement seems to thrum through the others here, young and old alike, and on the evening of the 8th, a commencement parade makes its way through the market district.

The procession, filled with musicians, dancers, jugglers, and the like, make their way from the fountain square to the center of the market district, where a crude stage has been erected in the square at the center of the market district, in front of the guard headquarters. It’s nothing fancy, but it does serve the purpose of bringing to the attention of those gathered those who stand atop it.

A tall man in a Guardsman’s blue uniform climbs the stairs, steel plates glittering in the midday sun. He has a stern countenance, and there’s a stiffness through his shoulders that suggests he isn’t overly fond of public speeches. He takes a steadying breath before clearing his throat.

“People of Aterat, those of us who were risen from its ashes and those of us who have been gathered to kindle its flame,” he pauses here for a moment, giving his address an air of gravitas. “Welcome. I am Captain Orson Khannar, of the Aterat City Guard. I was a guardsman before the Fall and I can tell you we stand as a shadow of our former selves, but we do stand. Two years ago, today, the Aspects descended from the Fountain, all that remained of our once proud land, they saw the ruin wrought upon it, and they began to weave. There was little of us left, but what stands was reassembled because we Remembered.” A cheer rises from the collected locals, along with a few scattered cries of ‘bless the Aspects’ and ‘long may Halcyn reign’. Captain Khannar raises a hand to still the crowd and after a moment, their cheers and raised prayers quiet.

“But we did not remember enough. This year, the Creator has provided, and we welcome among us memories from other worlds. This Remembrance, do not forget their sacrifice.” His tone changes then, and his piercing gaze moves across all those who have come here from elsewhere. “Outlanders, I expect nothing of you, but I offer you a warning: we are not your captors but we are your neighbors. As such, we will hold you to the same standards to which we hold ourselves. I am the Captain of your guard, and it is my sworn oath to keep this city safe from miscreants. That said, those of you who are willing and able, I would welcome your aid. Surely by now you have seen our fair city has its share of problems. My office is just there across the square.”

And with that bit of business handled, he directs his attention back to the crowd. “A Happy Remembrance to us all!” The crowd cheers again, though less enthusiastically, as a few look around at those gathered from other worlds, uncertain if they share the Captain’s willingness to welcome the aid of ‘Outlanders’.

The rest of the week is a city-wide party. The taverns are overflowing with merrymakers, there is wine and food for all, music at all hours of the day and night. Performers come out in droves, there are artists, artisans, and the like. If you can think of a festival occurrence, it happens at some point, though all the shops are closed for normal hours. It seems it’s quite the holiday, and you are welcome to invent whatever you'd like for a scene.

The Captain remains true to his word, and the Guard HQ in the Market Square seems to be the only place operating normally. There are regular patrols throughout the events, but Captain Khannar can be found most days in his office, upstairs in the HeadQuarters, should anyone like to question him.

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"Alright." She gently took his hand within hers and closed her eyes. It was easy to find his thread while she was touching him but like so many others it was disjointed. "Ah." Syeira winced but kept going.

"Your path is disjointed. You were in another place and another... neither was your home. There were-" She winced again, unable to see the people clearly. "Rings. An empty town. Before that... before that... you hid who you are and- hurt people?"

Her eyes opened and she released his hand. Her head was pounding, each imagine overlapping in nonsensical patterns.

The touch makes him feel awkward, and he definitely doesn't look comfortable with the contact. But he stays silent. He listens.

Frankly he'd have jerked his hand away from Syeira at the mention of rings if he wasn't so... baffled by everything else. So shocked. Because... Because that's not all things that can be guessed at.

He takes his hand back in shock and looks at her.

"You... actually see. Then can I ask you something?"

Syeira looked up and nodded her head. "Yes but then I should rest. It's... more difficult here. Threads aren't supposed to jump between... I guess it's worlds? And the threads are hard to follow between each jump. Without-" She bowed her head and tried her best to keep her voice steady.

"Without my father. It's hard for me to control."

Jagger helped but he was still learning how to use his powers to keep her from going crazy.

"But please, ask your question. I will try my best. If not today. Tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow. What if he doesn't have a tomorrow? No, he's not borrowing that particular trouble. Even if he is about to ask.

Instead of speaking at first, Nida's hands move to his wrists. Off come the leather cuff bracelets. Off come the variety of other baubles and odds and ends that hide his skin from view. It's very deliberate that he wears so much, that much us made abundantly clear when they are off and he holds his hands back out for her.

When he shows the scars.

"These healed, when I was brought back into the first world that kidnapped me. I haven't been home since. Tell me, if you can. Can I even go home? Am I even alive there? Or is this all I can ever have?"

Syeira catches her breath.

She doesn't speak but reaches forward, gently resting her palms over the scar's that litter his wrist. Her eyes close and she lets the weave sweep her to the time and place when the marks were first made. She bypasses other moments --when the scars were shown, touched and shared-- but those moments were short enough for her to continue forward.

One timeline to another. One weave and then nothing and then another weave.

She gasps as if she can't breathe, her fingers clamp around his wrists as she holds onto the path. "Almost." Syeira whispered as her head reeled from the change. It was the first time she'd tried to see between worlds and it was different from the flashes that normally overlapped her vision or the flashes of visions from another person's touch. This was deliberate and focused.

Her eyes opened and her pupils shrank until he could only see her iris. She was blind but she saw the event. "You live."

As soon as she had a clear vision she let go of his wrists, her head reeled, pain shot through her temples, her eyes rolled back, her eyelids closed and she collapsed. Her body sliding out of her chair and onto the ground behind her divination table.

He wants to thank her. To hear it makes him want to cry in relief. He'd long since decided he wanted to live, but it was hard to with the specter of his own cessation hanging constantly over his head. Even opens his mouth to thank her except...

"Hyne!" he curses as she collapses. Nida puts his hands on the table and vaults it easily, landing lightly on his feet at her side.

Nida scoops an arm under Syeira and frowns. Something he did hurt her. Dammit.

"Siren, I need you," he whispers under his breath, and his eyes flash briefly into a rich shade of brass, completely consuming pupil, iris, and the white. Magic rose to his fingertips quickly and he whispered under his breath, casting the cure spell on the woman.

It couldn't do much, easing bruises, maybe prompting the minor closing of some cuts. Mostly, he's doing it because he knows the spell can help wash away some fatigue. And, well, he intends to shove a few in her if he has to.

"Wake up. Wake up wake up. I'm so sorry."

Exhaustion flooded through her slender frame and then warmth as Nida's magical cure revitalized her. Syeira exhaled a soft sign as her eyes fluttered open. "Mmm?" Her hair fell in tangled waves behind her as his arm firmly held her torso off the ground.

"I'm sorry." Her voice didn't rise above a whisper. "That happens sometimes. It is hard to see between worlds and you've been-" She had to pause to gather her strength and take a breath. "You've been to so many."

Syeira's fingers trembled as she placed a hand on Nida's shoulder to lift herself to a seated position. Her skirt gathered around her, while the pair of them hid behind her small table.

"I just need a little rest, is all." She looked up at Nida, worry creasing her brow. "Are you alright? What I saw. You were in so much pain then." Her hand gently reached up and slowly cupped his cheek, if he'd let her. "I'm so sorry."

"You're not at all wrong about being to far too many," Nida sighs as he stays still for her. Best way to be a physical support for someone to move is to not move under their hand.

Her question is... so deeply upsetting that he doesn't even know how to handle it.

"Okay, you literally just passed out because I was a Hyne-damned asshole, and you're asking if I'm alright? You must have hit your head. Please, I..."

He doesn't know how to talk about it. About how love and friendship brought him back and how all of that love and friendship was gone now. So he shies away from her hand.

"Just let me make it up to you."

Syeira smiles, breathlessly exhaling as she looked up to peer into Nida's eyes. She couldn't focus on him but she saw the conflict as layers and layers of time overlapped. It was best not to press. One day, Nida will be ready to face more of his past and she hoped that she'd be there to help him.

"It's alright. Really. This happens to me a lot. My brother is usually there to stop me from pushing to hard and it's... harder here. Away from my clan." She shook her head. "I just need to rest."

She pushed herself up but waited for a few seconds and then attempted to rise, using the table and chair to assist her. "If you want to make it up to me. Then let's be friends." She slid into the chair, placing her hands on her lap. She felt incredibly exhausted but was trying to right herself. "It's very lonely here. For all of us."

"That's... really not a good idea," Nida sighs. Once she's back in her chair Nida stands and backs up a step. "Being my friend. That's... that's sorta cursed I think. People that are friends with me, that are connected to me, they seem to suffer."

There's no actual curse. He's just a pessimist. But with a lot of reasons behind it.

"Really?"

She looked up at him and for a brief moment she looked as if she was staring at something standing behind him. "I don't see a curse but- maybe I'm cursed too. I've never had a friend. Besides my Clan and I failed them." She looked down at her fingers as they gathered her skirt in her palms. "It wasn't until until I came here that I made friends. But, being alone, it is worse. It is more painful than any pain I have seen or experienced." Even the madness she feared.

"Can you imagine seeing it all? The past and future. I can't always control it. I... try really hard to stay in the present but it's hard sometimes. I can see. We can be great friends. It isn't a curse. Even if bad things happen. It takes strength to be friends. To chance being hurt but I already feel that. I feel the pain's of the future. Of everything taking place within the weave." She paused as if she was struggling to explain. "I'm not good at this. That is, explaining. It's so jumbled but... I'd rather wake up from seeing the future or past, with someone near me."

No, he can't imagine seeing it all. Hell, he can't even imagine seeing part of it. It was easier, he thought, to see nothing. To remember nothing. To be blind. But he supposed that wasn't possible. He moved back around the table to pick up his bracelets and start adorning his wrists once more.

"I'm not a fan of messing with the past or the future, to be honest. In my world, that has led to some very serious problems. Namely a time witch who decided the world would be best if she ruled it all by compressing all of time into a singular point in which only she could exist. And her situation led to a stable time-loop to ensure that her actions would lead to her own ability to affect time, not to mention the seed of her downfall. It's all a mess. Time should be allowed to flow for itself."

Still, she has given him some hope for his future if he ever returns home.

"If you're tired, I can escort you home. Or I can offer you a few more curative spells. I sort of owe you, for wearing you out with the assurance that I'm not dead back home. Not that I want to go home."

Syeira inclined her head in a tired nod. "That's right. Time shouldn't be alter except by those living it. Part of my task as a Reader is to make sure that the flow of time remains steady and untampered. Though I have little power over what affects time. I only know who to go to, those who can put things back in their place."

She looked at her table and then at the deck. "Could you help me carry this back to the red building? That is where my place is. I think I should lay down."

Syeira didn't know how his healing magic worked but she was worried about hurting him.

"If only we had people like you back home," Nida sighs. But there was no point longing for it. They had what they had. They didn't have what they didn't have.

He reaches out and slowly starts to tidy up her cards.

"Table too? Or just the cards and stuff? I'm Red myself, so I'll be happy to walk you."

Her lips form into a warm smile. "You might and not know it. My clan... it's all a secret. I didn't keep it here because... well, it's lonely."

No one liked being alone.

She shook her head. "I borrowed the table form that store there. I'd like to return it or let them know that I am finished for today. The table cloth and cards are mine." They had been nice enough to lend it to her though Syeira assumed that it was because of the event and not something she could depend on.

"Magic doesn't occur naturally in humans," he answers with a shrug. So he was pretty sure.

With that said he starts to very carefully gather her cards and wrap them in the cloth. It seems the most respectful way to do this.

"I'm sorry. For what I asked of you. But... you gave me something I haven't had in a long time. Hope."

"Really? Then what does that make me? I think I am human and mages are human." She looked down at herself as if she was trying to find something that she'd miss before... like a tail... but nothing unusual was there.

Syeira reached forward and gently took the cards and the table cloth from him. "It's alright. I don't mind. I'm glad." She smiled. "Hope is a wonderful thing."

"Not a human from my world," He points out. Which isn't something bad. His world sucked.

Once she had the cards safely in hand he gestures for the door.

"It's something I surrendered. You know why. I was... weak."

Syeira looked up at him with a warm smile. "But Hope isn't something that you can give up forever. There are people with the power to bring it back to you. Your future is messy but there are so many wonderful possibilities ahead of you."

She reached over and gently squeezed his hand.

"And if you want to talk, come find me. I like the company." Plus, she'd already declared them friends.

Wonderful possibilities? Hardly. He just... he wants to be loved. And that is something he doesn't anticipate ever happening. But he nods and smiles at the offer.

"I think I might, Miss Syeira. But give me time. Today has... shaken me more than I expected it might."

Which wasn't to say that he wouldn't walk her all the way back. Or that he wouldn't think long and hard about what she had told him.

"I understand. I am a bit shaken too." She offered Nida a kind smile as they slowly made their way towards her room. Syeira had to stop a few times or lean against Nida to gather her strength but they make it back without issue.

Amazingly, she discovered that her and Nida lived in the same building.

“I’m sorry to have caused that,” he apologizes, again. Will probably end up doing that fifty or so times. No more than sixty.

“Still, you’ve pulled a blindfold off of me, and I have to figure out what my life means because of that now.”

Yes, it really was shocking, wasn’t it? Nida just had to be amused. This kept happening.

"Will you stop apologizing." She smiled up at him. "It was my choice. Not yours. I could have said no." If she really hadn't wanted to, she would have told him no.

"Besides, you're helping me now."

The path to her room was otherwise uneventful. When they arrived, she bid Nida good day and went to fall into a dreamless restful sleep.

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CW: Referenced suicide attempt

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/end here?

roger