[Closed] The Truth Behind These Four Walls

[Lilanee Kuleda]

15th Vortas, 2719
VIENDA | EARLY MORNING

"This is actually our Vienda house, easier for father to work from here when he is doing jobs for Brunnhold. Really, we should be at the Brayde County house but for some reason only she knows, mother chose to stay here whilst father was on his expedition. Maybe it’s lonely out there in Brayde. Or maybe she thought I would be happier to discuss this preposterous notion of his funeral if she was closer by airship. It doesn’t really make sense, given the nature of Vitanism, being with nature or close by it is a comfort to Hesseans. The city is cloying, and thick, and blocky.” The vibrant teenager said as they rode through the Viendan streets towards the address she’d told the Hoxian in a whirlwind of words and emotions. The house itself was nestled in the far edges of the city, almost an outskirt property. As they approached Ezre would see a relatively plain looking fired brick home, with slate roof tiles and warm red exterior. It was two levels, though the front lower level was hard to see over the tall white plaster and brick fence. Through the black wrought iron gate, they would see the front door with windows on either side opened wide and curtains drawn back. A golden gilded number thirty three was attached to the painted black wood, above a brass knocker.

Lilanee stood in front of the gate, gesturing at the door whilst looking back at Ezre as he exited the carriage that had brought them from the airship docks to her house.

“Built in the twenty six hundreds apparently, father says. It’s a sturdy place, good for research and excellent for shopping opportunities should one be so inclined. I believe mother was quite influential in the purchase, given the size of the gardens. She can’t live without some sort of natural life around her. Even here, maybe especially here, in Vienda. The house in Brayde is almost buried in the woodland, literally you need a map to get to our house. Maybe it was better we came here.” Her finger absently moved to her mouth, pushing her lowerlip between her teeth and frowning.

“We should go in I suppose. Just…well maybe I should go first. No, that would be weird. We’ll go…together yes. Yes together is fine. It’s fine. This is fine!” Inhaling deeply, the russet brunette bent at the knees to pick up her suitcase, still staring at the gate.

Still not moving.

“Tocks.” She exhaled, field fluttering in frustration and nervousness. Her periwinkle gaze drifted to Ezre with a small smile.

“We could probably find somewhere for a nice breakfast first you know, there’s a great—”

“Lilanee Kuleda, why are you standing in the street like some lost sheep? Have you been so far from home that you forget how to enter it?” A stern, direct voice sounded from the doorway of the home, directing Lilanee’s gaze upwards to look at the olive skinned woman who stood there. She was taller than the teenager, by an inch or so, with dark hair that was drawn away from her face in a very simple half up-half down style, curling gently across her shoulders and down her back. Her kohl rimmed eyes were a rich brown, and her mouth was caught in an expression somewhere between annoyed and judgmental. Her outfit was not Anaxi fashion, instead she wore a Hessean garment in a golden beige fabric that swept around her figure and up over one shoulder, splitting to cascade down her left arm almost like a mantle. The dress had sleeves made of a sheer fabric, capped at her wrists by wide gold bracelets. Her ears were adorned with large geometric gold earrings that hung down from her lobes, and her throat by an intricately made golden necklace that looked like a gathering of leaves that grew longer as they got closer to her sternum.

“Who is that?” The woman said sharply, gesturing with her chin at Ezre as she widened the open door. Lilanee inhaled deeply again, before lifting her chin and leveling her gaze at the woman.

“Alethia Kuleda, it is my honor to introduce you to Ezre Vks. Xi is my p—” The older woman waved her hand, tucking it under and making a ‘come here’ motion.

“You will explain inside the house. I’m not a herders matron to be yelled at through the fence. Come. Inside.” The russet haired Hessean exhaled the rest of her words through her teeth, tilting her head and clenching her jaw, field souring with a slight redshift before she pulled it together. Turning to Ezre, she smiled, though it was strained.

“Let’s go then?” Giving the Hexxos a chance to speak before they entered, Lilanee pushed open the gate and led the dark haired student down the pathway that led to the door. On either side of them, a lush and almost overgrown garden grew thick and heavy. It smelt thickly of jasmine and lavender, and whice chattered in the canopy of the trees that grew at the front. The ninth form paused to place her hand on one of the trees, almost reverently, before walking through the doorway that her mother had left open for them.

“Shoes Lilanee! You weren’t raised in a camp!” Alethia snapped from beyond the foyer, deeper in the house, and with a sigh Lilanee lent down to remove her boots at the front door. Walking in her Brunnhold green socks, leaving her bag at the door, the russet brunette waited for Ezre before progressing ahead. Around them, the house was full—too full—of various collections. Ancient vases carefully pieced together placed on pedestals, or fragments of pottery and arrow heads contained in glass cabinets. Early AT paintings, depicting very anatomically inaccurate galdori and animals hung in frames on the walls, and a couple of spectographs of a jovial looking man with round spectacles over a spattering of freckles and curls standing at various dig sites. One sat in a frame by the front door on a beautifully carved stand, of the man holding a much younger, very toothy smiling Lilanee.

Jonathan Emmett and Daughter, 2710. The swirling inked inscription said on the bottom of the frame.

“Father didn’t take on mothers name when they married. Too Anaxi for that particular tradition.” The russet brunette said softly as they moved through the house.

Spears and swords, shields and bows, a collection of various weapons greeted them in the sitting room beyond the foyer, hung on the walls like trophies. And gold.

So much gold.

There was jewelry in cases, and bowls on shelves and artwork in cabinets. It was absurdly over the top, the designs clearly Hessean, and strewn like one would place Clocks Eve wreaths. Over the fireplace in the sitting room was a kenser-head sized drake skull, bleached white by the sun and nestled comfortably between more treasures from Hesse or Jonathan Emmett’s expeditions.

Alethia had seated herself by the fireplace in a deep set olive green leather chair, gesturing to the matching chair and two seater lounge for the teenagers.

“I didn’t expect you to bring luggage.” The Hessean said, her dark eyes flicking to Ezre as she spoke, before looking back to her daughter. Lilanee wet her lips, biting back all the things her mind was bursting to say and instead carefully crafting her reply.

“Ezre accompanied me, because I asked. Because I wanted someone here who could help us find father.” The older woman’s field—relatively dotered and calm before—now shimmered sharply with a flare of annoyance and a cold grey shift. She flicked her fingers rapidly, and from seemingly nowhere, a house passive appeared. He came with tea, steaming hot and unusual in fragrance. This was not chan, and it was not a standard Anaxi Breakfast tea. It smelt like aniseed and spices. Placing the tray down on the table that separated the three chairs, the passive disappeared again as though he was never there and Alethia gestured at them.

“Be seated. You fill up the room too much.” Taking the pot, the older woman poured herself a serve of the rich black beverage, before mixing in a small amount of cream and a measure of golden sugar granules from the small dish on the tray. Sipping the strongly spiced tea, overpowering in its use of Mugrobi cardomons, she fixed her gaze on Ezre.

“What if I don’t need your help, Hoxian.” She said bluntly, ignoring Lilanee’s wide eyed protest.

"Mother!" She hissed, cheeks flushed with embarrassment under her freckled visage. Alethia kept her eyes on Ezre, waiting for his answer.

[Ezre Vks]

Kuleda Household

Early Morning on the 15th of Vortas, 2719

Ezre had not experienced an alcohol-induced hangover in his life, even after the St. Grumble's red tie, but he had brought himself over the brink of his growing endurance through Clairvoyant casting on more than one occasion. He was simply convinced that this one first foray into cognitive scrying had to totally have been the worst. He still ached. He was exhausted. He had managed not to encourage any further nausea by simply refusing to eat just yet, and he'd scrambled to change out of his bloodied Brunnhold uniform into more comfortable, more traditional Hoxian-made clothing before their airship docked in Vienda, if only because he was halfway out of the various shades of green somewhere between the school and the capitol already. He chose the rich saffron and gold layers of his Hexxos regalia, hair braided and tied back high on his head, making sure to offer his truest self for this introduction to the Kuleda household.

He'd drifted but hardly slept. Now, he felt all the consequences converge upon him in the confines of the small carriage as it bounced and bobbed its way through the streets that were already bustling with Viendans. Lilanee, in her own way, was surely trying to comfort him while he sat across from her pale and dizzy even though he looked well-dressed and put together. She'd rambled on about the reasons for and appearances of her family's two homes for at least half an hour now, if not more, and while the young Guide did truly enjoy the sound of her voice, there was something about the nervous flutter of her field and the sharp edge of her tone that only made him feel worse, that only made his own anticipation more tangible in the churning magma that settled in his stomach. He was hardly encouraged by how many times she'd spoken of Vitanism in the course of their travel thus far, Ezre cautious about straying from the wide reach of the Circle.

His dark eyes took in the city landscape as they traveled nearly all the way through it—from the airship terminals, through Uptown, and toward the outskirts of the main walls. Nestled away from the crowds was the Kuleda Vienda residence, and he hardly managed to focus on the gilded numbers, let alone the street name, looking instead at the foreign architecture vaguely similar in style to Brunnhold and so very different from Kzecka, from Frecks, and from home.

Ezre oozed from the carriage once it jolted to a stop, wincing at the morning light that glared down at him once he was no longer sheltered by soft, thick curtains. He moved toward their luggage while the young redhead continued to over-explain, the pitch in her voice no longer masking her distress. He carefully brushed a hand over hers, taking her suitcase as well as shouldering his small bag, meeting her worried face,

"Even if it is not fine, vre'ia, you are not here alone." He reminded her softly, though he didn't return her smile, already safely veiled behind his well-honed rhakor. The voice that rang out from beyond the gate caught his attention, however, inked fingers curling around the handle of Lilanee's suitcase and airy, Clairvoyant-laden field drawing in taut and close.

Dark eyes took in the Hessean woman without judgment, studying her facial expression, traveling over her features and recognizing her relation to the freckled ninth form he'd shared his nauseated heart with just hours before. The woman did not meet his gaze and hardly deigned it necessary to indicate his existence, which was not exactly the best first impression the dark-haired Guide could hope for.

Alethia Kuleda was clearly her own force of nature, billowing to a stop and interrupting any pretense of an introduction with such rudeness that Ezre was almost embarrassed for her, let alone for Lilanee and himself. He heard that Deftung pronoun, eyebrow arching, expression brightening, only to feel the harsh wind of her Hessean mother shame her own daughter right there on the street in full public view.

The Hoxian's jaw clenched with barely veiled indignant frustration and he simply met Lilanee's gaze, dark eyes full of unspoken disapproval, "You mean back into the carriage? Zjai—" He frowned, hefting her suitcase, murmuring under his breath, "—that would be my preference, but I am present for you."

With that, he followed brusquely, glancing about the overgrown garden that the Autumn cold had put to sleep, inhaling the lingering scents of lavender and jasmine. He was not only the child of a raen, but the child of an herbalist, after all. The familiar smells did not bring him the comfort they should have, attention flitting from the back of Alethia Kuleda as she stalked into the house in flowing fabric and glittering gold to Lilanee as she paused at some tree as if it was a thing of personal importance.

The Hexxos Guide set all of their luggage down in the foyer, pausing to remove his shoes immediately out of habit and ritual—leaving the outside behind him and entering a home barefoot was more than mere ceremony, it was also clean and polite, after all. He startled at the loud voice that rang out in almost instinctual chastisement of the young woman next to him, and this time, he grimaced, the lines of his delicate face drawing into a deep frown while he reached to slip free of his dark wool coat, setting it on top of Lilanee's suitcase after folding it crisply.

Ezre followed with wariness, attempting to distract himself with all of the history that decorated the Viendan home, pausing to linger on the spectograph of young Lilanee, focusing on Jonathan's face as if to imprint it on his memory—

"Anaxi? Oh. I see." The Hoxian blinked, looking back to the young woman, catching glimpses of the shimmer of gold just about everywhere as if he was inside some lost temple buried in the spine of the world. Now was not the time to speak of how his parents weren't married, only bound by ceremony. Now was not the time to speak of how naming conventions in Hox were personal choice, much like the level of formality partners chose to commit to.

Bare feet made no sound over wood and tile and rugs, but there was the rustle of his bright linen layers as they moved gracefully with him into a sitting room, the skull drawing his gaze before he finally leveled an expressionless glance at the displeased face of Lilanee's Hessean mother.

Luggage.

Did she just—?

Had he been less of a Hoxian, perhaps he would have made a noise of protest, but instead he breathed in the scent of spiced tea and burning wood, exhaling the anger that welled up in his tattooed chest like the magma that broiled beneath the dark rock of Vroh Guar, moving not to sit but to stand next to the lounge near the ninth form who had no opportunity to defend herself since they'd arrived.

The Hexxos Guide stood and folded his inked hands in front of him, focused for a moment on the rush of his pulse as it sped up with the flare of the Hessean woman's field, his own still a calm wash of colorless Clairvoyance.

She did not offer them tea.

She insulted their company.

And they'd hardly been here a handful of moments.

By Bash's heated grace, Ezre felt himself grind his teeth, attempting to be the mountain and not the lava.

The mountain.

Not the—

"Excuse me, but I must admit that I did not come here to help you, specifically, Kuleda-vumein." The Hexxos Guide squared his shoulders and spoke with almost painful gentleness, the even lack of emotion in his tone of voice cold and distant like his homeland instead of warm and inviting as he often was in conversation with Lilanee. His dark eyes were hardened orbs of volcanic glass, still hot and simmering, but he held everything in behind that mask of rhakor. He continued to refuse to sit, unable to feel comfortable in a setting so poorly made to receive guests.

Ignoring the rightful outburst of the young woman next to him, the Hexxos Guide bowed against his better judgment, treading out onto the lava field that shimmered between himself and Alethia Kuleda without a hint of fear,

"I am here first for Lilanee, as her partner and friend. I am here second as a Clairvoyant more than capable of making certain whether or not your family has decided on premature arrangements for Jonathan Emmett. And I am here, thirdly, as a Carrier of the Dead fully versed in the funerary rites of a variety of cultures. I did not come here in expectation of you having a need of me, but I did arrive with the expectation of experiencing the much-praised hospitality Hesseans are known for having developed in defiance of the harsh wilderness of their Kingdom."

[Lilanee Kuleda]

15th Vortas, 2719
VIENDA | EARLY MORNING

The Hoxian’s hand on her own, taking the case from her grasp was a welcome touch, and Lilanee couldn’t help nod a little at Ezre’s words, only to be superseded by the sharp voice of her mother from the doorway of their Viendan home. She tried, unsuccessfully, to introduce the person she’d brought home with her. The special person that she had tried extra hard to introduce in a formal and proper way, only to be shot down by the bluntness of Alethia’s heritage.

“The road to glory is often paved with shale.” She hummed under her breath in return to his very warranted remark, before leading the way into the place she called home in some way or another through her nineteen years. As she removed her shoes—not needing the reminder but accepting it anyway—the russet brunette could see the Hexxos’ face just behind her, the crease of their features and the frown on their brow.

Well this was going splendidly.

For all the glittering gold in their home, Lilanee saw none of it. In comparison Ezre stood out bright and vibrant in his traditional garb, the precious metal worth little more than tin or lead in the country of her birth. It was invisible to her eyes, inconsequential against her fathers impressive collection of historical artifacts.

Dropping onto the lounge, back straight, the student wished for death as her mother continued to insult the newcomer in their home. Both with her slight of words, and her blatent lack of hospitality. The tea, oh by Ophurs Glittering Grace, the tea!

This was just getting better and better.

Ezre spoke then, the tone of their voice not unlike the same tone that had been used on Marissa and her little following of cronies. The russet brunette inhaled again, deeply, taking on the Hexxos’ words as they addressed her mother in a calm and almost infuriating way, looking at the raven haired student with a warm smile.

I am here first for Lilanee, as her partner and friend.

She needed that reminder of why they were here in the first place, and why she had asked him to come. There was a skillset that Ezre had, that was true, but more importantly the onyx eyed teenager was the only other person outside of her father that Lilanee could trust with her inner most thoughts and fears. And the only other person that stayed with her, when everyone else departed. If the Hoxian was more prone to public displays of affection, the Hessean would have reached for their hand. Instead, she turned back to her mother with a renewed sense of purpose.

did arrive with the expectation of experiencing the much-praised hospitality Hesseans are known for having developed in defiance of the harsh wilderness of their Kingdom.

Her smile dropped a little, more of a grimace than anything else, as Alethia’s dark eyes scanned over the liquid magma that burned between herself and the Hoxian. The older woman sipped her tea, placing the cup down on the tray in silent contemplation.

“I certainly hope I live up to your expectations, child.” The Hessean said with an arched brow, leaning back in her chair and resting her arms on the rests, crossing one leg over the other.

“So easy to talk about the harshness of Hesse, from the heights of the Hoxian mountains, with your soft uncalloused hands and dainty cheekbones. Perhaps you would care to find a proverb to put me in my place, yes?” She tsked through her teeth, looking the teenager up and down critically.

“Partner. Friend. You mean you came down from your pedestal to dirty yourself with the likes of a filthy Hessean? What a kindness you offer her.” Lilanee frowned, used to her mothers depreciating tongue in her own way, but not at all comfortable with it being used on Ezre. She stood sharply.

“That is enough, mother. Ezre’xi is important to me, and if you can’t be civil then I can’t stay. They didn’t come here to be insulted by you, and frankly I didn’t either. What is this all about? You can’t honestly be giving up on father? He’s out there, probably hurt, and you’re abandoning him?” Alethia stood with her, giving the Hoxian one last glance before turning to look at the fireplace, still not offering the tea to either of them.

“It has been nearly a year Lilanee. Your father is dead, and we must arrange to bury him in Vita’s earth. Under the open sky, with the essence of warriors in our veins.” The student moved to stand beside the woman, frowning up at her.

“He isn’t dead. I know it. I know it in my heart he isn’t dead. Ezre’xi, they—” The Hessean curled her nose and waved a hand.

“What is this noise you make? And they, they. Who is they? Speak properly child.” Lilanee made an exasperated sound, the sound of a teenager struggling to stay mature in the face of such blatent stupidity.

“Xi. It’s xi, and it’s the correct way to address one who does not need to bind themselves to the restrictions of our societal gender normatives. Ezre is cxil, is Hexxos. They are a guide, for the Dead. A teacher, and an aide, for those who are moving on from this life into the next part of the Cycle. They—” Alethia twisted to look at Ezre again, her brown eyes bright with fiery disbelief and anger.

“A guide for the Dead? The next part of the Cycle? What nonsense have you been filling her head with, boy? That is what you are, a boy, hiding behind superstition and nonsense. Now you insult Vita and whisper false truths to my daughter.” Her glare narrowed, and she turned further to approach the Hoxian, continuing her tirade.

“Partner. Friend. Just what do you define as partner, Ezre of Hox? What is your intention with my daughter?” The other student followed, moving to stand between Alethia and Ezre, knowing full well that any commentary from the other student was not at all undeserved.

“By Ophur’s Grace mother just stop and listen!” She exhaled, exasperated and embarrassed and hoping that Ezre didn’t just turn on their heel and walk straight back out of the doorway. Her periwinkle gaze dragged the older woman’s away from the Hoxian, holding her eyes as she spoke slowly and carefully.

“Mother. Ezre is skilled in Clairvoyancy. I can personally vouch for his abilities. I cannot bury a memory, not when there is a chance that father is alive and hurt and in need of aide. Please, please just put aside your stubbornness and your words and please just listen.” Lilanee said quietly, her field reaching tentatively for the other woman’s, a peace offering of sorts. Alethia scoffed, crossing her arms and looking away from the Hoxian.

“Jonathan was always an idiot, but a year is a long time Lilanee.” Something in her face softened then, as she glanced at the fireplace, allowing time for conversation to wash over her should it need to.

“What would you need to do?” She asked finally, not quite addressing Ezre, but not entirely dismissing him either. Finally, she gestured to the tray on the table.

“Tea, if you want it. Though it might not be to your Hoxian tastes.”

[Ezre Vks]

Kuleda Household

Early Morning on the 15th of Vortas, 2719

Even in the warmest of bjaras, the highest peaks of the Spondola Mountains were crested with snow. While other parts of the spine of the world thawed and melted, sending fresh water down into the valleys, through the Steppes, and into Mugroba to give life even to the desert as Hulali had ordained in their bargain with Bash all those eons ago, those loftiest of high places in their serene distance from the lands below wore their white caps with pride and wisdom, signifying just how long they'd taken to grow so tall in the Vitan landscape. Ezre had ascended some of the tallest cliffs around Kzecka, and he'd passed over even higher ones in an airship, back and forth between Frecks and Vienda, Frecks and Brunnhold. But he had not yet ascended into the metaphorical heights that those mountains represented. If anything, he still walked the foothills, having not yet managed to transcend all vestiges of immaturity, but by all the Circle, how he tried!

He felt the heat of regret for speaking up the moment he closed his tattooed lips on the last syllable, a surge of self-consciousness bubbling within his chest, burning his lungs like how Bash's blood consumed trees and grass when it flowed as lava down into the fertile valleys tucked between the mountains.

Ezre inhaled fragrant spices. Ezre exhaled enmity.

It seared the back of his throat like bile.

The young Hoxian's eyes narrowed and he stood his ground there in the parlor as an uninvited, unwelcome guest as if he was about to resist an opponent in the Gyre while sparring with those who knew the techniques of his people that often used the weight of their aggressor against them. Only he was helpless here to use physical means and he was not sure he was as mentally strong as his tattooed body was beneath the saffron and gold and charcoal layers that made up his traditional Hexxos clothing.

He did not open his mouth to respond to her insult of his origins, aware of how rough his own hands were, folded there in front of the wide sash around his waist, inked fingers gently entwined, sweaty, scarred palms hidden from view. His hands were, at this moment, still too small. He felt his slight stature too keenly beneath the heavy glare of Alethia Kuleda.

She questioned his intentions and his jaw clenched, chin lifting as if he reconsidered staying silent, tongue against the back of his teeth. He was the dirt of the earth, the Carrier of the Dead, the one who'd given up identity to touch the corpses of his people and lay them to rest with honor and respect. He'd dared touch something bright, someone soft and freckled out of more than just mere, idle curiosity, perhaps too much out of selfish need, and here, finally, did his fingers feel as burned as his tongue.

The young Guide's gaze did not shift from the full-blooded Hessean's face even when her half-blooded daughter spoke up on his behalf. He heard the truth of who he was spill warmly from her heart, the sound of the proper pronoun for his existence the only kindness in the room. He closed his eyes for a moment, eyelids heavy when he opened them again as both Kuledas stood, two fires in the forest with Ezre the quiet, calm stream that ran through the middle of them.

He listened. He strained so hard to listen.

He heard the hint of pain in Alethia's voice when the flames of their words reached for Jonathan's name, surprised by the depth of feeling the bright heat revealed. What was it, then, that Lilanee's mother wanted from this funeral? Did she care after all?

He tried to imagine the thawing of snow on the windswept mountains, running down between the trees. He tried to hear the trickling of water over rocks instead of the words thrown in his direction.

Words meant to hurt a stranger. A stranger who came to help.

His blood boiled, bubbled inside his veins. His chest ached as if he couldn't breathe.

The words hurt him, indeed, far deeper than he should have let them.

He knew the shape he'd been born in, the way his body had been formed in his mother's womb. He knew what he had once been, what he had given away upon acceptance of his place among the Hexxos, what he'd sacrificed in order to give all of himself to those who'd passed and needed his hands to care for them. He knew what he was no longer, even if he had to take on the masculine again in Anaxas just to please those who couldn't seem to crawl out of their dichotomies, of their binaries.

How dare this woman! How embarrassing. How embarrassed he was for Lilanee. How confused he was that she was the ninth form's real mother. How surreal it felt to have shared bodies and sweet-flavored feelings with the offspring of someone who Ezre wasn't sure had feelings at all.

He looked away.

He looked to the fire instead of meeting Alethia Kuleda's gaze once she stepped closer, too close, into his personal space. He flexed his field, however, those airy particles of Clairvoyance gathering toward himself in a flare of impressive power for someone so young—a warning without words.

But when he finally tilted his head back, eyes widening as Lilanee joined them, as she stepped between himself and her mother, he still said nothing.

Back and forth, the pair of women voiced their emotions and while questions were offered in his direction, his own voice was not one anyone immediately wanted, let alone needed. So he continued to stand there, feeling sweat begin to form between his shoulder blades, trickling down his spine. He was sure his lungs would stop working or his knees would give out, dizzy and nauseated all of a sudden under so much emotional pressure, under so much unexpected resistance, still worn out from his overstepping in casting just the day before.

For a moment, all he heard was the rustle of leaves and the roar of his heartbeat, but then he realized that Lilanee was looking at him and her mother had actually asked him a question she wanted to hear an answer to.

He looked at her, one more time, expression stoic and far, far away, then to the tea, growing cold, that she offered her own child and her guest as though they were some orphans of the lower races begging for scraps. His upper lip stung while he resisted with all of his well-honed self-control, while he resisted to the very outer limits of his rhakor the urge to curl his face into a sneer of disgust.

Instead, he sighed, shoulders not sagging one bit, before he turned to the poor, neglected tea pot, to the tray of tea accouterments, and to the humble tea that smelled of delicious Mugrobi spices, that would have been a tasty and refreshing moment shared between friends had Alethia Kuleda been a different kind of woman. The Hexxos Guide poured two cups of tea in continued silence, watching the steam rise sluggishly, preparing Lilanee's tea as he'd observed she took it over all these months and seasons they'd spent time together without asking, waiting for the molten rock in his veins to cool, for his nerves to settle.

He took his tea plain, unsure if he even wanted it anymore but unwilling to be impolite. Willing his hands not to tremble, even if they did just a little, even if he felt the world tilt on its axis as he shifted on his feet, still dizzy, he turned toward the young woman who'd needed him to come with him to this place and offered her the cup he'd made for her, meeting her periwinkle gaze with his back turned on Alethia.

There was anger in the dark pools of his eyes and the shadows held sadness. And then, with a slow blink, every hint of emotion was completely gone.

Ezre spoke to her, and her alone, first, "I will need a reprieve from all preparations for the funeral. A day to gather supplies and make ready. A day to cast. I will need unquestionable access to Jonathan Emmett's personal effects and some sort of map of his last generally known location. I will need no interruptions during the casting, and I will be allowed to choose whoever I wish to assist me."

Finally, with a sigh, cupping his tea with both hands, inked fingers nearly white-knuckled with the tension he held himself in check with, he took another careful step back and turned to face his lover's mother, meeting her gaze without any readable emotion at all,

"In return, I will stay out of the way of any ceremony should my presence be so unwelcome, but I assure you, you will not need it when my Clairvoyant spellwork is complete."

[Lilanee Kuleda]

15th Vortas, 2719
VIENDA | EARLY MORNING

This had been a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake.

The look in Ezre’s eyes as they brought her tea she hadn’t even asked for was like a dagger through her chest, cheeks flushed red with shame and field reaching desperately to apologize. She’d known Alethia would be bad, but maybe she hadn’t truly expressed how bad. Taking the cup, Lilanee felt the crease in between her brow deepen, even when the Hoxian drew the veil of his rhakor over the top of his carefully contained emotions the girl could sense them there. She felt responsible, guilty, and utterly useless in this moment.

In trying to help, to stand up for the Hexxos, the russet brunette had just made things worse. It seemed to be her specialty of late.

“Of course. Father has a study here, upstairs. I’m sure he’d have marked his planned trek on the map there. And it’s full of things he collected, or his notebooks, and such. Maybe other things. I’m sure we can find other things. You could use his study to get away from…from things. There’s a really comfortable lounge in there, should you wish to be…alone.” She nodded, filling the lines between her words with unspoken apologies for her mother. Holding the cup like some sort of trophy, the teenager sucked on her lower lip to press her teeth against it whilst Ezre directed their further comments back towards the rude Hessean.

“I gladly accept this exchange, if only to quiet the hope in my daughters heart where none should live.” Alethia said haughtily, waving at the doorway to the sitting room that led back to the foyer, and a spiraling staircase.

“Go and put your things away Lilanee, then we should discuss properly the arrangements for the funeral. Time has already lagged, we must put Jonathan to rest as a warrior. As a strong man. Before his memory rots away and he is forgotten.” The Hessean didn’t take a sip of the tea Ezre brought her, instead placing it down and moving towards the doorway, expecting them to follow her. The dark haired woman made a sound, loud and sharp in the relative silence of the room.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Lilanee looked back at her, baffled.

“To put my things away in my room?” The Hessean waved with annoyance.

“Not you, foolish girl. Him. There are plenty of inn’s in Kingsway he can stay in, and your room is not one of them.” The redhead squared her jaw, taking the Hoxian by the arm and holding him by her side.

“Ezre’xi will be staying with me. Here. In this house.” She said firmly, blue eyes bright with defiance and field tangled almost possessively in the cxil’s. Alethia scoffed, crossing her arms slowly.

“He will no—”

“Xi will. With me. In my room. You have insulted and berated everything since we arrived this day, and I have been patient mother. Ezre, has been patient. But you forget I am older than you were when you met father, and I am not you. Logically, Ezre should stay here, with me where xi is able to be comfortable and safe. There is no point sullying a guest room when one bed will do us just fine. And I assure you, it would be a waste of time. If you’d prefer, we can both find an inn to stay at, but regardless I will not be leaving them to navigate Vienda alone. Now. I am taking my bag, and I am taking Ezre, and we are going to my room. We are going to fathers study. Try to be a little less horrible when we next speak this day?” Not waiting for the woman’s reply, or for Ezre’s acceptance on the matter, Lilanee marched from the room with the Hoxian in tow. Taking up her own luggage, needing something to storm off with, she led the onyx eyed youth up the staircase, leaving Alethia to stare after them in outrageous shock. At the top of the landing they were confronted with more of the same memorabilia, a door to the right leading to the bathroom. Directly ahead was the study, beside that another door, presumably the guest room. On the other side of the landing was a doorway that was firmly shut, and to the right yet another. Lilanee took the door on the far side, opening it with a familiarity that could only mean it was her room.

Dropping her bag on the floor heavily, she sat down immediately on a chair that was tucked under a small writing desk near the door, and leaned over so her head was between her knees.

“I think I might throw up.” She said shakily, taking a couple of deep breaths before sitting up. For whatever it was worth, Alethia nor her voice had followed them up the staircase. Lilanee removed her glasses and placed them on the desk, pushing her hands through her thick red curls before standing up and gesturing like some sort of awkward prefect.

“So, uh, this is my room. That’s my desk. And over there is my bed. It’s a double, so it’s large enough for comfortable rest. And my wardrobe. You can put things in there if you like. And uh…there’s my collection. I told you about my pottery. I mean you’ve seen the stuff at Brunnhold but this is the proper stuff. My favorite stuff.” She moved forwards, around the end of the bed, past the window and towards the other wall where a shelf was nailed to the wall. On the shelf sat various bones, some off white, some a deep rich black almost stone like in nature. Picking up one item, Lilanee turned with it in the palm of her hand. It was a mandible, black stone, but the teeth were still starkly white and clean in the bone. The Hessean used her pinky to point as she spoke.

“These bones are so old, that they’ve turned to stone. But they are bones. Fossils actually. The teeth have remained however, as they were when this person died. Judging by the slight indentation here, and the comparative good condition of the teeth, he was probably a galdor. Or someone of high stature and good tidings. Little wear on the molars and only some cavities. Age, maybe thirty? Hard to tell with these older ones. Father says they are from before AT started. Way before. Maybe at the start of all things?” Looking at the jaw bone, Lilanee fell quiet, knowing full well what she was doing with her words—filling the space she was frightened to allow between them. Finally she looked up, grimacing.

“I wish I could say sorry, and that it would be enough for what just happened.” She said quietly, searching the Hoxian’s face for any sign they were still in this shipwreck with her. Frankly, Lilanee wouldn’t be at all surprised if Ezre simply left. Or at the least, when they got back to Brunnhold, fled as far from her as he could.

“Once you’ve…uh…once you’re ready I can take you into fathers study. We can look for the things you need.” The ashamed autumn creature pressed on, reminding herself why they had come in the first place. It wasn’t to please her mother. No, it was to find her father, because no clocking other person would.

[Ezre Vks]

Kuleda Household

Early Morning on the 15th of Vortas, 2719

The Hexxos Guide had experienced plenty of disapproval since coming of age and leaving the isolated community of Kzecka. First at Frecksat, an oddity among his own people, tattoos marking his status and affiliations, but at least he'd still been an acceptable member of society, if not a little stranger than most, if not a little lower because his hands were marked for the touching of corpses, after all. Then, naturally, he'd experienced much more cultural friction upon his transfer to Brunnhold, Anaxas a narrow-minded Kingdom confused by both his lack of attachment to gender as much as it was by his very specific Hexxos upbringing, as much as it was by the ink under his skin as it was by his rhakor.

To say that he was used to snide remarks, used to ignorant, insensitive comments would have at least been an understatement, but he could not remember being met with such lack of hospitality and purposeful hatred in a long time.

If ever.

He should not have shown Lilanee his hurt. He should not have made her aware of his discomfort. In his weakness and surprise, he'd allowed her the briefest of glimpses, and even the aroma of Mugrobi spices and black tea couldn't clear his palette of the bitter flavor of lingering regret.

She answered him, at least, but she stumbled over her words, clearly flustered by everything. She'd warned him, she had, but he had, in all honesty, assumed she was exaggerating. He blinked slowly, acquiescing to her answers before turning toward Alethia, unsure of why he was even holding the tea anymore. It was lukewarm. It was not going to even be sipped.

Quiet the hope.

Where none should live.

Ezre had heard quite enough.

Dark eyes finally slid away from one Hessean face to the more familiar one, watching as she set down her cup and not entirely processing the next obstacle in their so-called conversation that was brewing until he'd set down the wasted tea and turned toward their combined luggage with the slightest bob of his upper body in a bow—

Fingers curled possessively around his arm and he inhaled sharply, both the sudden invasion of his personal space uninvited in such an already stressful situation and the bright flare of anger in the redhead's field caught him by more than just surprise. He did not want to be a source of conflict and his expression finally turned into a scowl, slowly creasing its way into his tattooed face, sinking into his entire countenance,

"It is alright, I have somewhere we can—" The young Guide began to whisper, furtively, attempting not to wince at the wave of nausea the weight of all the emotions in her field as it wove its furious way through the lighter aura he'd tried to keep as neutral as possible.

Vespe, give me wisdom. Vulker, give us shade and shelter. Bash, give me—

Ezre attempted to walk himself through some quick, desperate prayer while voices escalated and he felt trapped in the middle, beyond uncomfortable, terribly embarrassed for everyone involved, and more than just a little intimidated. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he resisted the tug on his arm, bare feet planted firmly like the roots of not trees but mountains,

"—stay." He muttered, ruefully now, the frown he wore the only mask he had left between himself and the disrespect tossed so easily between mother and daughter. Perhaps Jonathan Emmett wasn't lost. Perhaps he just needed his space from all of this. Perhaps the desperate Hoxian fantasized for a brief moment of respite that he completely understood with a hiss of frustration, writhing free of Lilanee's grip with a gentle prying of her fingers so that he could pick up his own things—his smaller bag, his coat—and so that he could remember to breathe.

He felt belittled even if the other ninth form meant well, even if she cared far more than her words allowed her to express. An indignant chill crawled through his veins at the implication that he was incapable of navigating Vienda by himself, as if the tattooed temple-born child couldn't handle the pride of Anaxas that was its capitol on his own. He did not allow himself to be dragged away, but he followed quietly, looking one more time toward Alethia Kuleda there by the hearth, framed by the same bright orange glow that seemed to permeate every field present but his own. His dark eyes didn't shy away from meeting hers and he didn't crawl away from the room defeated or cowed, slowly turning away while Lilanee swept from the room, washed downstream like some leaf caught in the great thaw as winter released its grip from the taiga, no matter how briefly.

The Hexxos Guide took the stairs with more measured steps than the redhead he followed, attempting to set everything aside with each movement upward, each placement of one foot after the other. But he couldn't. He felt genuine anger inside. He felt too much hurt.

The redhead he followed did not lead them to her father's study but instead her childhood room. He made it—just barely—through the threshold while she poured herself into a chair near a desk like so much fast-flowing lava, and all Ezre could do was lean against the door, closing it behind him as if guarding the barrier it became with his entire being,

"If you do not, I might." He all but growled, gritting the words out through clenched teeth and yet immediately ashamed of the mix of feelings that churned through his otherwise usually soft-spoken voice, admitting in his weakness that he was still so very unwell after his Clairvoyant conversation. His joints still ached, but perhaps that was just because of all the tension.

He stood still, leaning heavily, catching his breath above the roar of his own pulse in his ears and instead of saying anything of value, Lilanee began to fill the small room with her voice, with a useless tour of obvious things and a distracting show of her various historical items that would have been interesting any other time in his life. She reached for a skull, reaching desperately for that common ground between them that wasn't attraction or friendship, that didn't need to contain feelings, and slowly the displeasure that had settled deep into his face faltered, slowly it faded into softer angles, into empathetic sadness.

His gaze lingered on the jaw, feeling the expectant warmth of her pale eyes set so pleasingly above flustered, freckled cheeks on him before he finally looked up. Sighing, he set down his things, shaking his head gently at her apology. Even if he needed to hear it, even if he wanted to hear it, he shouldn't have needed it at all and he couldn't blame Lilanee for her own family.

"It was—it is not alright." Ezre felt the need to be honest, shoulders sagging, composure melting like ice in the sun. One tattooed hand reached up to run a palm roughly over his face, rubbing away the frown that hadn't quite disappeared from his expression, dragging inked fingers over the shaved side of his head until they curled against the back of his neck, "But it is not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for because I am here of my own volition. I am neither afraid of your mother nor Vienda, however."

Leaning away from the door with no small amount of caution, the young Guide kept himself from looking over his shoulder, reaching to take the fossil from the young woman's hand, cupping the back of hers with his other for a moment as he did so. His were shaking when he held the jaw, turning it over much as she did, needing the focus of his attention to keep his rhakor.

He didn't offer an embrace, not yet, even if he stepped close enough to do so, even if his hand stayed against hers longer than was necessary. He wasn't angry, but he was simply too agitated to slip his arms around her, completely vulnerable, so easily even if he wanted to. The desire for touch was obvious in how he stood, just near enough, but doubt wavered in his voice, keeping him aloof,

"You warned me. I did not believe you. We have somewhere else to stay, Lilanee. We do not have to be here if we are—if I am—so unwelcome, but I do have to cast here."

Ezre was too distracted to explain, reaching to set the fossil back from its place among Lilanee's things, hand lifting to brush over her face as he did so, "I do not think there is a moment I will entirely be ready. Show me your father's study and show me, uh, your bathrooms. I doubt this house so full of gold is too humble to contain at least one of those fancy Anaxi tubs. The sooner I begin putting together my plan, the shorter our stay can be."

[Lilanee Kuleda]

15th Vortas, 2719
VIENDA | EARLY MORNING

She’d felt the flare of their field, so unusually sharp and uncontrolled, when her hand had caught his arm. But for the moment, for that moment, in her blind defiance and desperation to gain the upperhand over her mother, Lilanee didn’t understand it. She took it as a kindred feeling, matching the garish wash of crimson and yellow and blue sweeping through her aura. Taking the stairs and falling into her chair, the girl still didn’t see it, not really. Not all of it.

It wasn’t till she held the fossil in her hands, heart thumping with adrenaline and stomach churning with worry that she’d severely overstepped this time with the older Hessean, that the teenager felt the plunge of guilt in her chest.

Ezre wasn’t just angry.

They were livid.

The Hoxian spoke, and her eyes stung, taking a deep breath and forcing her lower lip not to tremble. There had been enough tears from Madeline to cover the both of them for at least the rest of this year, Lilanee didn’t need to add to them. And yet, even though the tawny creature claimed there was no fault of her own, their words did not fall on deaf ears.

I am neither afraid of your mother nor Vienda, however.

Sucking the insides of her cheeks against her teeth, the Hessean pressed firmly to stop the wave of gut-wrenching disappointment that welled from within. Looking back down at their hands, the mandible now in Ezre’s grasp, her jaw set firmly against the blurring of her vision as the emotions got the best of her. Curling her fingers against her palm, Lilanee stood like some dumbfounded kenser in the space between her bed and the shelving, swallowing hard against the hitching sensation in her throat. Closing her eyes, letting the tears drop from her lashes onto the uniform she still wore, the girl winced and tightened her fist.

She’d made too many mistakes today. Too many stupid mistakes. Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut?

Exhaling, she opened her eyes again, feeling suddenly alone in the intimacy of the space between them both. She didn’t know how to be delicate, or hold all the things she felt inside where they seemingly need to stay—inside. During their forming relationship the student had discovered that she was a toucher, it was a strange recognition to make. She craved connection, and contact, even if it was just a hand on a shoulder or a reassuring squeeze of the arm. Lilanee realized it was her fathers habit, one that she’d unconsciously picked up. And Ezre was not. They were private, and aloof and very carefully coming out of their shell—for her—but still. She should respect it, and understand it and accept it.

And yet right now, she didn’t want lingering warmth on her hands or fingertips across her cheeks. Right now she needed someone to embrace her, and help to diffuse the emotions bursting at the seams.

But Ezre didn’t want that. And that was fair. And that was okay. And that was what she had to accept.

Right now, more than anything, she wished her father was here.

The other teenager brushed a hand over her face as they returned her treasure to its place on the shelf, and Lilanee resisted the urge to pull away. She didn’t want pity, or forced contact. That wasn’t fair on Ezre, and it wasn’t fair on her. Brushing past the Hoxian, not unkindly and yet in a much more brash movement than usual, the russet brunette sniffed and rubbed at her cheeks with her sleeve as she shook her head.

“No. You are welcome here because I welcome you. Mother is a lot more bark than she is bite, and as you said you need to cast here. It would be inconvenient to move you somewhere else.” Picking up her glasses and brushing her hair back out of her face, the autumn being settled her shoulders and straightened her back and nodded.

“Of course, the study is just across the landing, this way.” Grasping the handle, she pulled open the door and moved to step out, striding from the room and opening the door that led to the man’s study.

“Gold for Hessean’s is worth less than copper. Less than silver. Less than timber. You could almost kick the ground and dig up a vein, it is that abundant there. So don’t mistake all that glitters as wealth.” The girl said as she held the handle, pausing and turning her head to one side to answer them over her shoulder almost begrudgingly.

“But yes, we have a tub.”. She stepped inside, feeling instantly the crisp stern facade fall from her like sand between her fingers, assaulted by an entire room of memories. Forgetting the Hoxian for a moment, Lilanee strolled across the Hessean maroon woven wool rug on the floor to approach a pinewood desk. Its top was covered with olive leather padding, which was mostly lost under papers and maps and so many books. An open inkpot sat to one side, bright red feathered quill sticking out of the top. On the other side, a very cold and very evaporated cup of tea. Behind the maroon leather desk chair, an entire wall of shelves and glass cabinets contained even more scrolls and books, trinkets and treasures. A set of mapping tools sat on a bench that lined the left wall, of which a large hand drawn map of Vita was pinned. There were markings on it, placemarkers with black circles containing red X’s for where expeditions had already been and gone, and just black circles for the ones still to come. One of those black circles was firmly drawn over near the north-west of Fennecky, where it indicated a forest and the Mist of the West.

On the right, there were boxes and crates, filled with Jonathan’s equipment and research, and thrown over a couple was a rich red woolen scarf. Lilanee moved towards it, like a moth to a flame, picking up the winter accessory and holding it to her face. She inhaled, and closed her eyes, burying her face in the wool as her hands gripped it tightly. It was too much. All too much.

“This. If you want something that is close to him, take this.” The ninth form said abruptly, holding it out to the Hoxian and lifting her chin in her defiant way, the sudden shift of deep slate blue that tinged her field washing away with it.

“And this.” Said a far more reluctant voice from the doorway. Alethia stood there, though she didn’t enter the room, holding a box in her hands. Lilanee looked at her with a frown.

“What is it?” She asked quietly, crossing her arms around herself as though to protect herself from the awkward tension that flowed into the room. The older woman held it out for either of them to take, though she didn’t look at Ezre.

“It’s the knot that was tied when we bound ourselves in marriage, stained with the blood from our hands. Hessean’s bind by the life-force in our veins, and the land under our feet. We plant the family seed,”

“That the roots might dig deep and spread wide, and our name carry on.” Lilanee finished for her, offering the briefest flash of a smile at Alethia. The woman nodded, and lifted her chin in a strange mimicry of the younger half-blood.

“Anyway. I figured you needed all the help you could get. Do not loose that. I will need it, when we complete the burial.” With the almost falsely snide remark, the older woman left them to their explorations, and the Hessean seemed to circle back on their conversation before entering the study. Her periwinkle gaze finally fell on the Hexxos with a confused frown.

“Wait, why do you need our bathtub?”

[Ezre Vks]

Kuleda Household

Early Morning on the 15th of Vortas, 2719

"This is your home, and it is my desire to respect your family. Your mother does not want me here, and so, no matter how you feel about me, I am clearly not welcome." Ezre repeated the obvious, softly, almost too softly, pushing back against Lilanee's defiant declaration that he was wanted here in this house when it was painfully obvious he wasn't. She wanted him, but Alethia Kuleda had made it clear that the views he wore as if they were inked under his skin like the tattoos that marked his status as Hexxos weren't even something she wanted Lilanee to have ever heard a word of. It was too late, really, too late for all of those worries.

"More bark? It was not you whom she bit, vre'ia." He snapped in barely a whisper, delicate eyebrows drawing together in hurt, further distancing himself by stepping back toward his things even though he breathed that word of affection as if he needed the reminder. He needed to find somewhere out of the way for his bag and his coat, needed to do something with his hands and hide the pain on his face.

The Hoxian also felt the disappointment in the charged air between them as he moved about the small bedroom, the divinipotent student's burgeoning field agitated beneath the gravity of her emotions that seemed to weigh down her aura. He should have wanted to make reparations, but the shock that the redhead who'd just professed the depths of her feelings so honestly the evening before couldn't currently even make sense of his own was just salt in the wounds her mother's words had made.

It was easier to shift the subject, to keep the peace by moving on for now, for he'd come with a purpose and this was all just distraction. Surely, when not under the duress of a funeral, both Lilanee and Alethia were different people, and Ezre attempted to comfort himself with those thoughts, attempted to deny himself because he was not Hessean and he was perhaps just getting in his own way here. It didn't take away the sting, however, not even as the freckled student with tears still on her cheeks opened her bedroom door again and led them into the hall.

The young Guide's jaw clenched, aware that his delivery of a comment about wealth had been too deadpan for the flustered other student to pick up any hints of his sarcasm.

He frowned, but she wasn't looking.

He followed, but he didn't bother speaking again for quite some time.

Lilanee led them into Jonathan's study and he shoved away the tumultuous feelings that wrestled inside of him, scrambling to focus on why he was here, scrambling for his purpose. Dark eyes took in the rug and the desk, the shelves and the artifacts. Ezre's field dampened and he moved through the room on bare feet, silently cataloging everything he could, pausing at the map and tracing tattooed fingers over the markings, studying it and remembering the way Subprefect Nkemi pezre Nkese had made ink trails on parchment in the stuffy Richardson's Wing on Brunnhold's campus. He was no Static sorcerer, but the ideas had sparked his imagination none the less.

The Hexxos was sensitive enough to leave the young Hessean to her memories, not wishing to interrupt her as she traveled through a place that held so much meaning for a man she clearly loved.

He startled at her voice, turning to see her lift her face from a scarf, hesitating to reach for what she didn't entirely offer because of the sadness in her field. Movement caught the corner of his eye and as he raised a tattooed hand, he heard Alethia speak from the threshold. Ezre immediately tensed, fingers curling into the scarf and taking it, folding it with almost enviable neatness to keep himself from meeting Lilanee's mother's gaze. Heavy with the scent of a stranger, dappled with the tears of his lover, Ezre finally tore his attention from the scarf to look up at the mention of blood, dark eyes flicked to the box, attempting to see what was within it.

He was glad the older galdor didn't look at him. He didn't want to feel the sharpness of her judgment in this moment, still aching and sore.

The Hoxian wanted to appreciate the Hessean's heritage, wanted their words to fill him with the same pride it filled the women, but he didn't. He listened with veiled interest their exchange of words, hearing the rich depths of culture, but he couldn't bring himself to find it as beautiful as he normally would. It just reminded him of the distance between himself and Lilanee all of a sudden—her mother's accusations and the places they didn't see eye to eye very sharply in focus, stealing his breath. How the Kingdom of Hesse's galdori could deny the gods and still use magic at all was beyond him, how they could deny the gods at all was simply out of his ability to comprehend. He looked back down to his hands, following the lines inked under his skin, shoulders sagging when her offer became another painful jab,

"It will be useful." He murmured, not giving thanks because he no longer felt thankful, "Nothing will be leaving this house, so nothing of value will be misplaced."

Setting the scarf in the box without looking at the contents once Alethia was far enough away and Lilanee was close enough to actually converse with, he finally met her pale, expectant glance. His own dark eyes were distant and hard, his tone implied he was surprised she was finally noticing he existed in this moment, surprised she finally noticed he'd left Brunnhold to be here with her after all.

The tub?

"Modified aquamancy." Ezre said plainly, as if his entire plan didn't need any more explaining than that. His face was a mask of total non-expression, and his field felt like an overcast sky. He paused for a few moments, running a hand over his face, dragging fingers back over the stubble on the sides of his head, feeling the sudden overwhelming desire to shave it all down again, right down to the skin,

"And sensory deprivation. I will be in the tub. I have a long distance to travel through communication and I must focus while asking the mona to find one specific life, especially because your father is an unsuspecting witness. He will not have a prepared mind for the contact. I will need to be able to draw a plot—a prodigium to be specific—for we will all be casting different parts of the spell—" Now was probably not the best time to bring up his intentions of including the raen in his spellwork, but he did so anyway, "—you, myself, and Tom. I need an interpreter when I become the conduit, and you are not studied in Clairvoyance."

His words weren't meant in cruelty, and there was no insult in his tone of voice. There was no gentleness, either, however, and he paused, crossing his arms over his tattooed chest and shifting on his bare feet, finding a comfortable stance for his aching knees.

By Bash, he needed to just go take a nap. He was so tired and it was more than just his joints that were sore, "Do you have a bathroom sufficient for such things?"

[Lilanee Kuleda]

15th Vortas, 2719
VIENDA | EARLY MORNING

Ezre met her gaze finally, after the older woman had left the token of Jonathan’s essence with them, and instead of annoyance or frustration or any of these things she’d been experiencing from the Hoxian, Lilanee instead saw something else. She saw the cold there, the usual touch of warmth just for her missing, replaced with something else.

Replaced with blame.

The teenager couldn’t do this anymore. Not today, not now. Not here. Her heart felt heavy, too heavy, and she fought with ringing in her ears and pounding in her chest to stop the feeling of wanting to simply burst into tears and run away. That was a very sixth form thing to do, and she was Lilanee Kuleda. She didn’t run away crying. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself.

This wasn’t new. She knew how to manage this.

People hated her every day. It should be simple enough to navigate.

By Ophur why didn’t that make it feel any better at all?

"Modified aquamancy."

Oh, of course. How stupid of her to not know that, given it was the most clocking not-Physical thing ever.

“Okay, I—Tom?” The Hessean blinked, taken aback by the name. The raen? He needed the raen here for that? Would that even work? Didn’t he tell her that raen had broken fields? Clocks, there was no way her mother could find out the truth of Toms existence. She would claim it a farse and there would be nothing Lilanee could say to fix it. But Ezre didn't want her. Didn't trust her.

Had they broken so much so fast, that she really that unwanted?

“I’m sure Tom will be a far more skilled Clairvoyant than myself, so of course that makes sense.” The teenager said with a hint of hurt confusion in her tone, nodding and gesturing behind the Hexxos.

“See for yourself.” She said flatly, moving past the Hoxian to the bathroom door and opening it wide. Inside, they had a garishly flamboyant tub, on clawed feet with white porcelain and golden paint along the rim. It sat in the middle of the large room, like some sort of trophy, fed by running taps with water heated by the kitchen. The floor it sat on was raised wood slats, and a small side dresser contained towels and oils and all sorts of curious bathing items. On the otherside of the room was an empty, clean cistern and a bookshelf. A cosy looking armchair sat in the corner and an ornate mirror hung on the wall.

“I assume our bathroom suits your needs?” Lilanee asked with a pointed tone, knowing the answer but petulant in her emotional state. Smoothing her hands over her Brunnholdian clothing, the student tsked.

“I need to get out of these greens. Is there anything else you need, for now? I can give you privacy, should you like to rest. Its been a long, long day. You must be tired.” The girl was tired now, tired of this argument and tired of the anger that simmered between them. She felt guilty, and didn’t know how to fix the mess that she’d managed to jump feet first into. There was a loud bang, as the front door of the house slammed shut, and Lilanee brought her fingertips to her head for a moment to rub at her nose.

“And that would be Alethia leaving to brood in the market or something.” The Hessean said matter of factly, knowing her mother too well. She sighed, and looked at her hands.

“Our house passive can get you anything you need. I’m going to check fathers study and see…see what else I can find.” She nodded, turning on her heel to leave the Hoxian there in the bathroom. Pausing at the door, she caught her breath, half turning to say something before thinking better of it.

Some things were better to be left unsaid.

[Ezre Vks]

Kuleda Household

Early Morning on the 15th of Vortas, 2719

"Incumbent Vauquelin—" Ezre corrected himself, flustered, chagrined, and now shamed. His frown deepened, color flushing his cheeks, and he looked away for a moment, somewhat accosted by her surprise but somewhat expecting it, too. When he did look back, it was too easy to read the disappointment, the hint of betrayal on the Hessean's attractive, freckled face. He hadn't entirely meant to hurt her—mentioning the raen was not because he didn't need Lilanee's help, dru, he needed both of them—but he saw the hurt play out in her expression anyway. An indignant sting clawed at his chest—Lilanee's mother had insulted them both, dishonored him, and yet she was now the one offended? Over this? He huffed consonants through his teeth, following a step or two behind the young woman, caught up in the weight of her field,

"We have cast together, and after our conversation on the way here, his understanding of my thoughts will be a valuable compliment to how well you know me. Vre'ia, I—oh—" He would have explained further, but instead he bit his lip, teeth digging into the inked lower curve, glancing into the painfully overdecorated bathroom as his lover opened the door. Everything was far fancier than the Hoxian would have ever imagined to be practical, but as his dark eyes swept over the arrangement of things and the size of the tub, lingering on the large mirror, he nodded curtly.

"It will suit all our needs, zjai. I am relieved." Ezre's voice dropped in volume, tense edges softening, and if he had not been a properly-raised native of Hox, he might have winced at how pointed her tone had become. Instead, he turned toward the redhead, about to raise a hand to hers. She was smoothing impatient fingers over her uniform, so he was forced to curl his own inked digits into his scarred palms, "Lilanee, listen—"

The young Guide wanted to say something, anything about what had happened, about how he felt, about how he was feeling, but even now he struggled to sift through all of his emotions and find the right words. She interrupted his thoughts and the beginning of his bruised, humble offering. His shoulders sagged with his countenance, magically exhausted, aching body wilting beneath the bright colors of his clothes, and Ezre murmured almost lamely,

"Dru, I do not need anything else. I should rest, it is true." He wasn't sure he even needed privacy, but in searching the Hessean's taut expression, he realized that she was not interested in sharing a moment alone, that hers was not an offer of soothing hurts in further conversation. She was shoving him away, angry at his decision to include someone else in their casting, and perhaps even questioning why she'd invited him in the first place.

He'd been such a source of trouble already—Lilanee Kuleda's tattooed, religious, non-gendered partner.

How embarrassing.

Dark eyes slid away from her face, sweeping the room again, and his delicate features drew into a distant, neutral expression while he carefully withdrew from his emotions, from this moment. He didn't flinch when the door slammed elsewhere in the house, but he did blink, slowly, discouraged in the brief moment of silence.

He was quite sure what he needed could not be provided by any household servant, the Hoxian considering himself rather self-sufficient. He shook his head, gently, hovering there in the threshold of the bathroom and the hallway, watching Lilanee walk away without another word. He met her gaze when she turned back, expectant, but she measured her thoughts as unworthy of being spoken or she weighed him unworthy of hearing them, turning away and swiftly disappearing into the study full of her father's things.

It would have been a waste to say something out of turn, after all, Ezre reminded himself, edges of his vision blurring. Every joint ached, and while he wanted to blame it on cognomancy, some of what hurt seemed to be much deeper than physical runoff from overstepping. Some of what hurt was much deeper, indeed. He huffed, glancing down at his bare, tattooed feet and the painted tile, gathering whatever was left of himself before he slunk away toward the bedroom he'd been more or less dragged into sharing, awkwardly a bargaining piece in his lover's sense of autonomy when faced with her mother's judgmental disapproval.

Even so, he'd made a promise to find the truth about Jonathan Emmett's current state of existence. Even so, as a Hexxos Guide, he had a duty to bring peace and comfort to the living and the dead.

He was capable, wanted or not.

He believed that still, even in this moment, as strongly as he believed in hope and nonsense.

As restless as his miasma of mixed emotions made him feel, sleep suddenly seemed an appealing escape. He was tired, once again nauseated, and perhaps he was just letting his exhaustion get the better of his ability to filter, to wear his rhakor as he should. He organized his things in the comfortable, childhood bedroom of the young woman who'd confessed deep feelings for him and ignored his feelings all in less than thirty hours' time. Inked fingers explored the spines of books and he glanced once more at the spectographs on her shelves, studying the face of a man he'd volunteered to attempt to find against all odds.

Once his humble luggage was sorted, the young Guide carefully peeled away the layers of his traditional Hexxos clothing, shedding offense and letting go of insulted pride. He stripped himself down to his light, cotton under layers, attempting to pare himself down to non-thought, though that took significantly more sifting and sorting than his things or his garments before he felt at all ready to crawl into a strange bed and find the kind of silence his body and mind both weren't even sure they wanted behind his eyelids.