[Closed] Have a Little Faith

[Tom Cooke]

The Kuleda Household • Uptown

Evening on the 17th of Vortas, 2719

H
e’d been quiet, mostly.

He might’ve known what this would be like, if he’d given any thought to it – and boemo, he’d’ve probably done it anyway. He’d given his word, and for all he was a liar wearing a dead man’s face, he held the truth dear where he could.

The window was open. The chill air from outside cut through the gathering steam, the wafting smoke from the incense burner. Breathing in, Tom thought he could taste the coming winter; he could smell the dying leaves. He could hear the last of them plucked from the bare knobbly branches, whisked across the stones and brown grass in the garden, whispering in husky voices.

The air smelled like incense, too. Patchouli, sandalwood; lavender and lemongrass. Whiffs of sage, lingering like ghosts, where Ezre had burned it before they’d begun.

Little things. His hands ached; his back ached. He’d been crouched on his cramping haunches for a good hour, now, and though he might’ve appreciated the open window for ambiance, his aching joints did not. He was glad most of the legwork with the prodigium was done, because his hands were stiff and red at the knuckles from the cold.

Not that he minded that part, being honest. That was not the heaviest thing Ezre had asked of him, today. It was not even, Tom thought, what was to come, which he’d’ve done gladly, even with all his reservations, even with the burden he’d shouldered of being the bearer of bad news.

As they finished up the last delicate lines of the plot, he felt his face like a mask; he felt his suit and his shaky hands like a costume.

Not a word had come out of his mouth that he hadn’t fit carefully into the Incumbent’s voice. Since he’d arrived, conscious of Alethia Kuleda’s wide eyes, he’d done his best to play it to the hilt.

He’d been all thin smiles, all careful, mannered politician’s talk; he’d been distant where he could be, and patronizing where he couldn’t. (I owe the young master a favor, with a languid wave of the hand, at dinner; it’s hardly…)

When push came to shove, there was nothing he could do or say to explain himself. This was utterly out of character for the incumbent; it was utterly out of character for the aloof, sneering mask he wore. He’d said little during planning; there was little he could say, without giving himself away. Distant, always; vague, aloof.

He’d waved away the scrap with as much decorum as he could manage, and he was burningly conscious of Alethia’s eyes on the back of his head as he knelt among lines and sap and a dead man’s things, trying hard not to look at the shadowed figure in the great ornate mirror.

By the time Mrs. Kuleda and Ezre took their leave, there was a thin film of bathwater at the bottom of the tub, with more pattering in from the faucet. He was gripping the chalk white-knuckled now, and the last line on that slippery tile came as a great relief.

Sighing, he braced himself on the cabinet and heaved himself up to sit on the edge of the tub. It’d been a while since he’d looked up, around; the size of the bathroom still baffled him. He might’ve gone to sit in the armchair, only it looked out of place here, with its little bookshelf nearby. It was a plain of tile and paneled wood and gilt; it looked like no lavatory Tom had ever been in, not even the Vauquelins’.

His eyes wandered, finally, to Lilanee, finishing up the prodigium on the other side. Just a bowed head, braids caught coppery in the low candlelight. He blinked, frowning slightly, at the bandage on one of her hands. He remembered how she’d looked, when Ezre had drawn the blood. She was still a little pale, though the candlelight made everything ghoulish.

He wasn’t sure what to think. They hadn’t spoken much; he tried to think if they’d ever spoken properly, Lilanee and Tom, not Lilanee and the Incumbent. For all Ezre’s reassurances, there was much he didn’t know, and much he was afraid to guess. He didn’t think his performance tonight had been particularly endearing.

As she finished the prodigium and started to rise, he thought suddenly of the statue in the foyer. He studied her half-lit face; he couldn’t’ve said if he saw a resemblance.

He looked down, away. The pot of chan, still steaming, sat on the tile some feet from the prodigium.

He crossed his arms, shivered a little in his jacket. “One last round of chan, Miss Kuleda, while our mutual friend chases the chrove?” It was meant to be funny; his voice came out flat, and he couldn’t manage a smile. “Are you all right?” he asked, more softly.

He reached out with a careful caprise.

[Lilanee Kuleda]

17th Vortas, 2719
HOME | BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT

There were so many things running through her mind. So, so many things, all begging to spring forth in verbal expression to ease the nervous tension rampant and wild in her very being. As her hand held the chalk, moving over the genuine Bastian tiling that was so clocking irrelevant right now, Lilanee wondered about a great many things. She worried about the Hoxian, had this been the right thing to ask of them? Now that the bathroom was looking more like some strange shrine to the mona and the bath water was filling a rich indigo, the teenager reconsidered her perhaps selfish adamant belief that Jonathan Emmett was alive. Was she risking her partners health, and maybe their life, on a feeling? Her mother seemed to believe so, or at least, she didn’t seem to believe that everything they were doing was worth the effort.

The points of the prodigium were stained pink with her own blood and clumping chalk, and briefly Lilanee wondered what her father would say about all this. He would probably, actually, be so fascinated he would be following Ezre around with a pen and paper and thousands of questions.

She smiled a little.

It’s what she would usually do. Were the circumstances different.

Standing, the russet brunette dusted her hands off, looking down at the powdery residue that coated the whirls and patterns on her fingers. Her smile faded, and her brow creased a little as the uncertainty and doubt crept in again. If this didn’t work, then—

One last round of chan, Miss Kuleda, while our mutual friend chases the chrove?

Lilanee looked up, gazing wide eyed across the room at the Incumbent’s form that addressed her. Red hair graying at the temples, eyes like a dreary winter storm and a thin pointed face. He looked like any other Anaxi galdor, weary with time and the slough of the politicians lament. Except that underneath that facade was something else, someone else. Beneath the Vauquelin that he pretended to be, was the man he really was.

Tom.

The ninth form realized as they stood there alone in the bathroom, face to face, that this was the first time they’d been together without Ezre. The first time they’d been together where she had known what she knew. The man Tom Cooke, had died, and in the Cycle of the Gods he had been thrown. Like a bit of clay from the potters wheel spun too fast, he’d slipped from the edge and floundered in the dark until there’d been a light to grab onto. To cling to and bond with. Lilanee didn’t know much of the raen’s origins, Ezre had respected those boundaries, but it was clear in the privacy of the fancy tiled room that it was not an Anaxi high class business man. He held himself casually, a little slouched, and his deep voice carried more character. An enigma, and a curiosity that both intrigued and somewhat frightened the galdor.

She blinked, realizing she’d been staring for too long lost in thought, as the man asked her something no one had really yet asked her.

Are you alright?

The brush of his field was strange, put together and yet similar to the field of a younger galdor. It wavered, a little, like it was not yet sure of how to caprise quite right, and Lilanee was caught off guard by it. She however, was never one to close herself off, and so with her heart on her sleeve the russet brunette let the edges of her field curl towards the edges of his own.

“Please, Mister Vaqu—er—Cooke? Mister. Sir. Just call me Lilanee. Or Lil. I don’t mind. Either is fine. Kuleda is, at present, not entirely a name I’m particularly proud of.” The young woman said with a small, brief smile, before moving to the tea pot to pour a cup of the hot calming brew for them both. Standing, she carefully moved towards the older man, handing him one of the fine porcelain vessels with a little bow before cupping her own closely and blowing across the steaming surface. Sipping the bitter chan gently, Lilanee looked into the tinged water, tapping a finger against the thin edge lightly.

“Am I alright? I actually haven’t taken a moment to think on it, truthfully. The past few days have been a blur, between the letter of summons and getting Ezre to come, and then the airship and then our arrival and my mother, by Ophurs Grace my clocking mother, and then all these emotional up and downs and the thought that I might actually truly honestly find out by the end of all this that I am entirely delusional and father is in fact dead am I alright?!” She exhaled the last of her words with a half laugh before inhaling deeply and pausing for a moment, looking up at the raen with the low light glinting off the faint catch of tears in her eyes.

“Not really, but I’m too terrified of falling apart if I let myself think about it too hard.” Sipping the chan, the teenager worried her lower lip for a moment, toying with words that had clearly been on her mind since he’d arrived earlier that evening. She inhaled again, closed her mouth, then inhaled again.

“Who were you, before you were him?” The Hessean asked quietly, taking another nervous sip and waving a hand dismissively.

“Of course, you don’t have to answer that, if you don’t want to. That’s probably a rude question to ask, I shouldn’t ask, I just have this habit of opening my mouth at the wrong times. I’m sure Ezre’s probably already told you that given that they seem to really care about you, which is interesting because I would love to understand what your investment is with them, and probably told you about me already which is fine. I mean of course its fine, it wouldn’t not be fine, everyone is welcome to talk. Hey, I talk for everyone anyway so you know, should let others do it sometimes!” Hiding another titter with her chan, Lilanee looked over the mug with wide blue eyes and warm cheeks, trying to stifle the words that were so easily falling from her lips.

[Tom Cooke]

The Kuleda Household • Uptown

Evening on the 17th of Vortas, 2719

L
ilanee was staring at him, like she was seeing him proper for the first time. He cleared his throat, glanced away, scratched his jaw.

He felt her return his tentative caprise. He thought he must’ve caught her off-guard; he couldn’t blame her.

She stumbled through his name, and he scratched the back of his head, not sure how to tell her he’d’ve preferred just about anything to ‘mister sir’. Still, at the mention of her fami’s name, he glanced up. It was hard to tell in the candlelight, but it seemed like a sad smile playing across her face. Sad, or bitter, maybe. She was pouring more chan, sending up plumes of fragrant steam.

As she crossed to hand him one of the steaming porcelain cups, he looked at her with a lopsided smile of his own. “Lil, then,” he said, taking it carefully, then returning her little bow.

He studied her through the gloom as she took a sip. It was like waiting for the downpour, with every last leaf turned over on its pale green back, with the air heavy to bursting. The clouds, he thought, would open up; in one, two –

And open up they did. He was expecting it, so he sat patient on the edge of the great clawfoot tub, letting the words spill out of the lass and wash over him. That much, at least, he could do – for all he knew he must’ve seemed like some kind of skin-stealing eguk – for all he still hadn’t a damned clue what lay between them. He set all of it aside, and he watched her evenly, listening intently.

Something glinted on her lashes. Her laugh was bitter. Tom shifted in his seat, brow furrowing. There was a faint sad smile on his lips.

Yaching bochi. Ezre’d come to him in such a huff the night before, telling him how he’d ruined everything; now, you’d think it was the other way around. Yaching bochi, he thought again, only you throw dead fathers and blood magic into it. Entirely delusional, Lilanee said, and Tom felt a pang. The weight of what he’d told Ezre still lay on his heart; he had prepared himself all night to bear the news, if need be.

He opened his mouth to speak; her question caught him like a left hook. Lips still slightly parted, he listened as more spilled out – more, and more – and then the lass was blushing behind her chan, watching him wide-eyed.

He blinked, shut his mouth, and frowned. He tried to piece it together in his head. They? Who were they?

Ezre?

He thought he could fit some of it together, shaky as his hands were; he thought the edges met the grooves. They seem to really care about you, which is interesting. He blinked again. I talk for everyone anyway. He was conscious of her eyes on him – the nervous sips, the way she bit her lip.

“I don’t – know how to answer that,” he said slowly, calmly, once some semblance of silence had settled.

The water still burbled into the tub, but the chill wind from outside cut up the steam. Tom sat on the edge, the cup of chan in his lap.

He cupped it with one aching hand. “You can call me Tom, to start with. Short and sweet. Well – not so sweet,” he tried to joke, quirking an eyebrow, testing the waters, “but short enough, these days.”

He paused, hesitant.

“I don’t know. I was me, I suppose.” He thought what he could say. “I was a man, like I am now. My thirtieth birthday would’ve been in Hamis, if I’d lived to see it. I’m from Old Rose Harbor.” He blew out his cheeks, shrugging; he thought hard, and his eyes wandered up to the shadowy ceiling.

Ease into it, maybe; telling the lass she was about to cast with a former human, and a criminal at that, didn’t sound a fine idea. Not with how she’d given him his chan like she was feeding a maja’wa a bit of fish.

Your investment with them. “He – uh – they – cxil does value… privacy. I tore into him once for telling someone else about me, so maybe it’s my fault.” He frowned.

He looked down into the chan in his lap; the low light made it a dark mirror, but he couldn’t see much of the incumbent’s face. He took a slow first sip.

The taste steadied his nerves. “Ezre-xi’s told me a bit about you, Lil. Not a lot,” he admitted. “But when you care about somebody, I suspect it slips out.”

He looked across at her again.

“And because I’ve asked after you. Believe it or not.” He raised an eyebrow. “If you’re delusional, then I’m delusional, too. I know a little something about falling apart.”

Glancing away, he took a sip of tea, eyes half-lidded. “That enough talk on my end?” A bitter smile on his lips as he lowered the cup. “By all means, lass, out with it, all of it. I was the one who asked. We’re going to be casting together, soon enough; best get comfortable.”

[Lilanee Kuleda]

17th Vortas, 2719
HOME | BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT

That face was a familiar one, everyone gave her that face, or at least everyone except Ezre and her father. Lilanee knew it, and knew the rhythm that came with it;

The look as they realized there were even more words coming than perhaps expected.

The blink as they tried to process even half of what she’d all but hurled at them.

The inhale as they prepared to try and respond to even a snippet of what was just said.

Only this time, instead of a stumble of thoughts and words trying to catch up to her, Tom took his time and answered with a refreshing honesty that the young woman immediately warmed to.

I don’t – know how to answer that,

The russet brunette smiled a little more, nodding her head gently as if to acknowledge there was a lot there, and it wasn’t all just as easy as responding to her in turn. It was a bold question to ask, both regarding Ezre and more importantly, the more personal ask; Who were you, before you were him? Lilanee let her gaze drift to her mug again, listening to the water gently filling the lavish tub and letting the cool of the open window brush against too warm cheeks, as the raen found the right way to respond.

“Pleased to meet you, Tom.” She said softly, restarting their introduction to each other anew. Not Incumbent Vauquelin, but Tom. The man behind the mask, the real one, not caught in a space of private fear of being found out. Her brow raised a little at his commentary. Thirty? The man who faced her must have been at least forty or fifty. To be trapped in such a body, she pondered, would be most frustrating for someone so young. Or rather, young in the wider scheme of things. That made Alethia technically the oldest person in the Kuleda household at present in her thirty fifth year this year.

Fancy that. The oldest, and the least mature.

“Old Rose Harbor, the pirate town? Does that mean you were a pirate? Did you have a ship and a crew? I’ve heard tales of pirates, though it’s not entirely a magically inclined profession, there are some cases. Briny Bill and the Mental Princess or something, I can’t quite recall, silly tales that you hear in first form when everyone is trying to come up with the most ridiculously amazing stories that quite often are so fake that it’s painful. My father spent time near the Harbor on a dig, though it was more towards Celles Isles.” The teenager wandered through her thoughts out loud, before coming back into focus as Tom continued. Her eyes widened, and a hand extended to wave it in apology.

“I am dreadfully sorry if that was my fault, Ezre’s telling of you. I promise I’ve not shared with any others, not that I have others to share with but I do understand that need for privacy. I myself was probably the last person xi would have expected to open up to, Hessean’s aren’t religious or even particularly spiritual, so my eyes have been closed you might say. Ezre has been trying to open them, though I seem to blunder more often than not with those teachings. It’s easy for me to understand what I can see, or feel, something scientifically possible and proven. Ghosts, tick. Ghosts that linger hungry and needful, big clocking tick. And raen, well, tick tick, though I have opened my mouth on the topic without thinking more than once. I’ve insulted you, and xi’s mother, accidentally but that doesn’t make it right.” She smiled a little.

“And no, I don’t think you were the influence in Ezre’s privacy. They are Hoxian, and Hexxos. It seems that both these things combined equal a very private person, or at least, in public.” Lilanee sipped her tea with a smirk that was more personal in nature, looking away for a moment.

“Ezre-xi’s told me a bit about you, Lil. Not a lot,” he admitted. “But when you care about somebody, I suspect it slips out.”

The russet haired girl blushed, the ruddy color creeping under freckles and fabric, her smirk turning gentle again, field rippling with magenta at the edges and gold in the ebbs. Her chest felt full, and the student couldn’t help the emotional flutter that accompanied his words.

“I suspect it does.” She echoed, looking up to meet Tom’s gaze again with purposeful implication, smile fading with the natural course of conversation (lest she look like a lunatic). The ninth form moved a little, leaning against the wall and placing her cup on the basin benchtop beside her.

“Remember those words, Tom. You asked.” The autumn creature warned, before collecting all her thoughts.

“Thirty, from the Rose. A man taken too soon, thrown out of the cycle and into a new body. An older body. That must frustrate you, worn cartilage and elderly bones. Did you want this, I mean, this life anew. Ezre says you can choose, to take on a host or to become…something else. I imagine it must have been frightening, for you. For you both, actually.” Lilanee acknowledged the Incumbent in spirit, before continuing.

“Did you have a family? Do they know what has become of you? Do you want them to know? I think, I would want mine to know. Well, father at least. Ezre for certain, though they would no doubt already know.” Her brow furrowed, before another thought rushed in, not meaning to be insensitive but caught up in the questions that tumbled to her mind.

“Did the monic conversation change for you at all? I feel your field, it’s…not dissimilar to the first forms at Brunnhold—no offence sorry—but I imagined an Incumbent to be powerful. Oh! Unless it’s your field? Did it come with you, is that what it is? What did you score when you came of age, have you done any study into the before and after of your magic? I imagine that would be very fascinating. Did you know, in certain cultures, magical score isn’t even factored? It’s more just a ‘yes you’re a galdor’ or ‘no your a passive’ and then off you trot to do your thing. Gior, for example. Oh! You’re not Gioran are you, I don’t mean to offend if you are, you just said Old Rose and I assumed Anaxi which is silly because hello! I’m not even Anaxi. Well, only half, obviously.” Adjusting her glasses, Lilanee rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, already caught up in her rambling and any filters she might have had left in tatters in the steam of her chan.

[Tom Cooke]

The Kuleda Household • Uptown

Evening on the 17th of Vortas, 2719

B
riny Bill and the Mental Princess,” he repeated, brow furrowing, but his quiet voice slipped into the undertow and disappeared in the stream.

It was, as promised, a deluge.

There was no getting a word in edgeways, of course, but he’d taken that on himself from the start. He girded himself on the scent of incense and the bitter earthy taste of chan, and, as more water gurgled into the tub, he sat quietly. He watched and listened.

He snorted, sharp and loud, at ghosts that linger hungry and needful, big clocking tick. But his eyes were soft; he studied the half-Anaxi, half-Hessean in the low light, thinking of the tense silence at dinner, turning it all over in his mind. He might’ve protested to her talk of eyes closed – he wasn’t sure what to say – only her words had rattled on through, into an apology, and he blinked, inclining his head.

He caught the blush, too. It was a stark reminder, a mirror image, of Ezre blushing uncertainly over his chan less than a year ago.

Time had flown since then. Circle, but how much had happened. For Ezre, oes, he imagined, but for the lass – I seem to blunder, she said, as if a Hessean exposed to broken Cycle vodundun overnight could be expected to do anything else, as if keeping her head above these tsuter waters were anything less than a job well done. Hells, Alethia Kuleda was doing well enough with what she had. Could neither of them see that?

He ached, then, with something like sympathy. Lilanee wasn’t much newer to this than he was. She expected to handle this well, just because she was yaching a Hexx?

Getting soft, came a sharp voice at the back of his head; but the admonition didn’t hold much water, not anymore. He found himself leaning over his chan, listening close.

A wince flickered across his face. Oes, ever the archaeologist. He wanted to say, in that moment, that this back was straighter than the one he’d had before, that he hadn’t expected to live to fifty-five as a natt anyway. He held his tongue; more painful questions tumbled into the air between them.

Well-meant, but painful nonetheless. Another wince, at the last. It was like a sore tooth that needed to be pulled, he thought, as she started off on the matter of Gior and aptitude tests. Sooner than later, but he couldn’t bring himself to do the job.

Then: quiet, as if the water’d run out. Or maybe as if she’d managed to get a dam in place, before the next flood.

He sat silent for a moment.

“I – er – well –” Easy bits first, he thought. And maybe pretend she hadn’t used the word elderly.

Swallowing through the tightness in his throat, he waved a hand. “It wasn’t you. Actually, I asked him to tell you,” he went on slowly. “I thought it was unfair, if you had to work with a thing like me, not knowing – what I am. We didn’t get a chance to talk alone, during all the rubbish with the East Garden, but I told Ezre-xi I’d not have another damned thing to do with it if you weren’t – properly informed.”

He shifted on the edge of the bath, uncomfortable; he looked down into his chan, then away, at the circles they’d chalked together on the floor. The questions seemed heavy in the air, now. Did you want this? Did you have a family? Would you –

He’d asked. He swallowed again, shut his eyes, opened them. “Suspect that answers your first question, Lilanee.” He offered her a wan smile, then took a sip of chan. “But I’m grateful for it, you putting yourself in my shoes. Not everyone does. Ezre-xi’s questions can get” – he wrinkled his nose – “clinical. Sometimes I think he forgets I’m a…”

He trailed off, blinking. Shaking himself. Floods, but it must’ve been this chan; he wasn’t usually this bad at holding his tongue, even piss drunk.

“Being honest, I’m new to all this ghostly tocks, myself. I don’t half know what to make of it, and I’m a raen; I don’t blame you for needing time. It was frightening, yes. Very frightening. Worse for him, I think, but I have to live with it.” He ran a fingertip round the rim of the cup, frowning, studying the back of Anatole’s hand for a long moment. “I don’t have much family, no. Even if I did, I’d rather them not see me like this.”

He thought of Aremu, then, running his hand through his hair. I wasn’t sure, he remembered the imbala saying, thoughtful. Water gurgled into the tub behind, still not half full.

“I wasn’t a pirate. A land-lubber’s life for me. I was – uh – more of a tough. Good with my fists and not my head, and all that.” Feeling oddly exposed, he took another sip of chan; when there’s no way out, it’s usually best to go deeper. “I – yes, you could say the monic conversation has changed for me,” he said finally, looking up at Lilanee. “No offense taken. I’d say first form’s not bad, for a human.”

[Lilanee Kuleda]

17th Vortas, 2719
HOME | BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT

"Oh.”

The singular word of surprise drifted warmly through the air, mingled with the steam of chan and the smoke of incense.

It wasn’t you. Actually, I asked him to tell you

The revelation touched something within the young russet brunette, something that so far only Ezre had really reached. Her field was an open book, and her heart on her sleeve, ready to accept friendship if one would only take it. But, no one had. No one had even tried. Yet, this raen, who knew her from naught had asked Ezre to tell her his most intimate secret to ensure that in the matter of ghostly investigations she knew the truth of it all. He’d cared to include her, to not let her stand on the outside like a fool whilst wading her way through the misty barrens of these new spiritual learnings.

It made the teenager feel…like she mattered.

She smiled, shaking her head a little.

“A thing like you? Tom, have you met my mother? There are worse things that you could be.” Lilanee said quietly, smirking across the bathroom, trying to interject a little humor into the heavy moment. Her smirk fell a little as the man gave her the answer to her question, and her brow creased a little in sympathy. How must it be, to know you’ve taken a life to live your own.

Awful, that’s clearly how. Awful and lonely.

It was the ninth form’s turn to snort then, nodding emphatically.

“Clinical. That is a perfect description.” She said as she grabbed the mug and took another mouthful of chan, listening as the not-Incumbent trailed off with his words. Their conversation deepened again, as expected, and Lilanee listened with intent. Her brow creased again, and her lip crept between white teeth, wishing she’d not been so intrusive.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry…” The young Hessean said quietly, unable to shake the feeling of fear that prickled the back of her neck.

It was frightening, yes. Very frightening. Worse for him, I think, but I have to live with it.

She couldn’t imagine how it felt. Didn’t want to imagine. And yet, her inquisitive mind eagerly wanted to write this all down and explore the why. Why did it happen, where did the Incumbent go when it did? Why did it have to be so awful? How could it happen again?

Could it happen to her?

Swallowing childish thoughts, Lilanee lowered the mug, a tiny ‘aw’ of disappointment escaping when Tom admitted he was no pirate. A tough? Good with fists and head. A…scholar then? That didn’t make any sense. Maybe the Rose had slang she didn’t understand. Raising the chan to her lips, the girl took a sip as her mind wandered. Monic conversation had changed! Well that was something. Could it be something related to ley lines? Maybe it was that his conversation had converted to the Incumbents own specialty. Maybe—

No offense taken. I’d say first form’s not bad, for a human.

Lilanee snorted tea like a whale breaching in dawns first light, spluttering and coughing as the bitter liquid splashed her face and up her nose. Eyes watering, the teenager put the cup down on the shelving and took a towel to clean herself, finally looking at Tom with narrowed blue eyes.

“You jest.” She said incredulously, before she gasped, eyes widening and face shifting into something of wondrous fascination.

“You don’t jest! No! It’s not possible! Is it?! I suppose, if your spirit is freed from your body, then you aren’t really anything at all. You are corporeal, energy or matter, rather than bone and sinew. And then of course, if you move to a body that is magically enabled then, oh. Oh! Yes! Yes of course! But that means, this is the Incumbents field, but also no. No this is your field, using his biological matter.” Lilanee moved closer to the man in her excitement, looking at him with wide eyed wonder, vibrant swathes of orange excitement pouring through the thick blanket of her Physical aura.

“So, if you’ve got a field now, then this is a human field. Technically. I mean, its not possible, but if we were to suspect the possible and expand to the impossible then we can look deeper. How do you find it, how to do you—” Another revelation hit the young galdor and she clamped a hand over her mouth for a moment, before slipping it away to speak.

“That must have been hard. Do we…did you hate us? Galdori?” Lilanee grimaced a little, as though the word itself was enough to be a bitter reminder for someone who may have indeed hated her kind. She didn’t have thoughts about humans, actually. They made alright breads and did a good job running the rickshaws in the Stacks, but like, outside of that she didn’t really think of them. From a racial perspective, Jonathan had taught her that when all the tissue was taken away bones were bones were bones. Historically, a set of human bones told her as many interesting things as a galdori set. They were different, in certain ways, but fundamentally the same. Magic didn’t cling to old galdor remnants, they weren’t special.

Everyone ended up the same eventually.

“Does…does Ezre know?” The autumn girl asked a little more gently, ring finger straying to her lip, pushing it between her teeth again.

[Tom Cooke]

The Kuleda Household • Uptown

Evening on the 17th of Vortas, 2719

H
e sat still and very quiet while Lilanee went to get the towel. He didn’t speak; he’d looked away, when she’d snorted tea through her nose like a boch, and he hadn’t looked back. He’d looked down toward the sweep of chalk lines instead, caught glittering by the candles. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he supposed he oughtn’t’ve been surprised. She hadn’t even taken it seriously.

So be it. Tom told plenty of jokes, though of late he tried not to say what he didn’t mean. You jest, he heard, and another wince flickered across his face. When he looked back up, finally, she was staring at him.

It was a barrage. She came closer to him, spilling out her curiosity; he set his jaw and remained very still.

He could separate out some of what Lilanee meant, he thought, from the hurricane of what she’d said. He saw wide blue eyes, felt the shift of the physical mona such that the whole room might’ve been vivid orange, the tiles, her voice, the incense. It wasn’t exactly what he had expected; he heard no admonition in her voice. Fear, maybe – he couldn’t tell – but it was all swamped by excitement, speculation.

He heard, You’re a fascinating specimen. That wasn’t fair, he knew. Not with the way she’d echoed him, clinical.

He looked down into his chan, then away, to avoid catching any of his reflection. The set of his lips was a brittle frown.

Did you hate us?

The question wasn’t, Do you? He was relieved, in a way; he had not wanted to lie.

“I didn’t,” he said carefully, shifting. He brought one leg up on the edge of the tub, folded it underneath him. His joints ached; he cradled the cup of chan closer to himself, warmed his fingers against the porcelain.

He thought he could feel it echoing through his head, laughter. You jest, she’d said. Terribly mung joke, that – a human, holding a whole intelligent conversation.

That wasn’t fair, either. That must have been hard, he remembered her saying. I’m sorry, before that, wide-eyed; I didn’t mean to pry.

He swallowed a bitter lump and felt the anger anyway. He couldn’t not. “It’s my field, yes.” Whether it’s human or not, he didn’t say. “The incumbent was a perceptive conversationalist. It was a porven when I first moved in; I’ve cast enough wards to start feeling like a proper golly. Ezre-xi calls it a reparation. I call it first contact.”

The Hexx’s name brought him round to her last question. He looked up at her, through the waft of steam. She was biting her lip again.

“Ezre-xi knows.” He nodded, taking another sip of chan. Wishing to hell and back it was whisky. “He found out the day we met,” he added, taking a deep breath, straightening his posture. “He asked. He wasn’t ready for the answer, either.”

He tried another smile, but the warmth from earlier had gone from it. “Yes, indeed. I was a human criminal. You needn’t worry; I’m thoroughly reformed.”

That, then – a lie, and he felt it through all of his bones, bitter like foxglove, like all the anger. We’re going to cast together, soon enough, he reminded himself. For your sake and for the lass’, you can’t harbor this; you have to put it away somewhere. He could taste it anyway, the shift of his field, bitter-dark green instead of red. Old, old anger.

He shut his eyes; he didn’t want to see the lass’ face. She was barely nineteen, for godssakes. He shouldn’t’ve said that.

In, out. In, out. He counted the seconds. He breathed his field, slowly, indectal.

“Epaemo,” he said, gently and intently. He opened his eyes. “A bit of tek for you, there. It means I’m sorry.” He spoke cautiously, as if testing the waters. “I don’t know how you feel about my kind. I will say I’m safe to cast with, and my monite is good. I thought Ezre might’ve warned you, but, well – here you are, lass. I don’t want this to cause – problems.”

[Lilanee Kuleda]

17th Vortas, 2719
HOME | BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT

She could feel it, even if he tried to calm it, the anger in his new fledgling field. That human field—By Ophur she couldn’t even think those two words together it was wrong. But the young woman had nine years on Tom. Nine years of that extra sixth sense that his birth-race didn’t have, of a normality that she was used to. Nine years of refining the brush and caprice of aura. Sure, he would have been able to feel fields, but not like this.

Not like them.

Worrying her lip, Lilanee held onto her sorry’s and didn’t mean to’s listening to the raen talk instead. He smiled, but it wasn’t the same as before. The ninth form had managed to toe the line, and then trip right clocking over it. Her brow creased at the comment about his criminal ways. Surely, that wasn’t true. Surely he was digging at her ridiculous insensitive naivety.

“I wasn’t…I mean…of course.” The Hessean fumbled, pushing up her glasses and reaching for her chan, moving away from the man she’d eagerly offended. He closed his eyes and the russet brunette felt the guilt pool in her stomach. Looking down at the steaming beverage, Lilanee frowned, not sure if she should try and say something or just let it go.

Epaemo.

The girl lifted her gaze, eyes slightly wide, silently mouthing the unfamiliar word and testing the sound of it. Tom looked at her again, and the student pressed her lips together.

Tek. Sorry. Wick talk.

Did human's use Tek? It tasted like a language she was aware of, but didn't quite know. Familiar and yet not.

Now was not the time to question the origins of it however.

“How I feel…well I…” Adjusting her glasses, the younger galdor made a face.

“Did you know one time in Hesse, humans managed to convince the galdori government they were too stupid to understand balat—money—and paid their taxes in goat droppings? And humans are the only race able to tame drakes. An untamed drake is impossible for a galdori to control unless it’s been broken in by a human handler. That’s a somewhat impressive feat if I saw so myself.” Sipping her chan, Lilanee smiled a little, an olive branch between them.

“My father says that underneath all this skin and muscle and blood and sinew, our bones are just the same. We all turn to stone in the earth, or ash in the fire. Anaxas bids my opinion be swayed by religious belief but…I don’t…Hesseans don’t have that limitation.” The student said, blushing slightly at her admission. Was it too much? Was it too far?

Inhaling deeply, the russet haired girl placed down her cup and adjusted her glasses again, shoulders straight and set resolutely.

“I assure you, Tom, there is absolutely no problems you have caused. We are united in this shared cause, and I am grateful for your honesty.” She nodded, before offering a small bow to the man.

“My primary concern is to prove to my mother that my father is most definitely alive, and to ensure Ezre doesn’t somehow go mad in this casting.” Lifting from her bow slowly, Lilanee looked at him.

“I will admit to you, sir, that I am afraid for the Hoxian. I feel I have asked too much, but I’m not ready to say stop.” Her freckled cheeks flushed again, embarrassed by her admission of guilt.

[Tom Cooke]

The Kuleda Household • Uptown

Evening on the 17th of Vortas, 2719

T
here she was again, looking down, gnawing at her lip. It would’ve been a lie – and a damned one – to say he hadn’t meant for this to happen. He’d meant every word out of his mouth; there’d been a great deal he hadn’t said, too. So he sat still on the edge of the clawfoot tub in the Kuledas’ great, beautiful bathroom, trying not to shiver in the breeze through the window, or in the awkwardness that’d settled over them like dust.

He already knew what kind of a response he’d get. How in the hell does any teenage galdor feel about mankind? Humans serve them tea and cook their food and wash their bedding – after Brunnhold, at least. Maybe you like one or two of them, he thought. But how do you feel about a favorite armchair, or your childhood dog?

He remembered the look of fear Ezre had given him in the phasmonia, the day they’d met. Shifting uncomfortably, he scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat.

Then he looked up at Lilanee, his surprise – for once – plain on his face.

“Goat droppings?” he repeated. He laughed softly. It did sound terribly like a thing galdori would do, taking shit instead of ging because the mung humans couldn’t be taught any better. He laughed again, field flickering bastly, when he thought how it was a Hessean galdor telling him this.

Deirdre had told him stories, so many stories, about drakes and their trainers. She’d never been to Hesse; other than the Bastians, none of the whores at Greene’s’d ever been out of the Harbor. But there was an old storybook she had from someplace – she wouldn’t say where; she’d got all wistful, when he’d asked, and so he’d stopped asking – with pictures of them in it, ink wet-smeared and faded and smudged by time.

He hadn’t thought they were real, and he’d never been corrected, not until now. There were lots of stories passed round by natt, of strange magic things not bound or kin to galdori, roaming Vita of their will and the will of the gods’. If you even believed in the gods; plenty of stories he’d heard, too, were of –

Vita. He raised a brow at Lilanee’s blush, at her deep breath.

His own tense posture had eased; he sat again with a comfortable – purposeful – slouch, and crossed one ankle over his knee, leaning forward over the drifting chan fumes. He took a sip of the earthy bitter brew, imagining he could feel his nerves unfurl. Maybe he could.

For all he’d thought himself shut up tight with bitterness, to his chagrin, she had him opening up again. He listened with another little frown, watching her bow, then watching her raise up and flush even more deeply.

Being honest, he wasn’t sure what to say. This wasn’t the overflow of words from earlier; this was a quiet admission, and nothing but silence lay between them now.

He took another sip and sighed. “I’m worried, too, Lilanee,” he said. “Ezre-xi is – he likes to tame drakes that are a little too wild for him.” He smiled across at her. “On the day I met him, he got himself possessed by a ghost when we could’ve left the place none the wiser, and I swear, I think he wanted to. Just to see what it was like. Just to…”

The candlelight flickered over Lilanee’s worried face. Out there somewhere, he was aware, Ezre was preparing himself for the big event – and in that second, Tom thought he might’ve hated him for it.

“I’m no liar; I’ll not tell you he’ll come out of this unscathed. Or any of us, for that matter. But your uhat –” He broke off, laughing. “Gods, the Deftung’s catching. Your father sounds like a – remarkable man. I can’t blame you for wanting to know what became of him. I don’t even know who my father was; if you told me I could find him, I don’t know what I’d do.”

We all turn to stone in the earth, or ash in the fire. He frowned and looked across the prodigium, at the man’s things. He wondered what would bring an Anaxi galdor round to such ideas.

“My lass – before – was a Vitanist,” he offered, with a fox’s smile. She hadn’t said the word, Vita, but he was comfortable with his odds. “I’ve no issue with it. I was raised on Vitanist stories, being what I was, though I suspect they’re different than the ones you were raised on.”

[Lilanee Kuleda]

17th Vortas, 2719
HOME | BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT

The sudden laughter from the once-human was warming, filling the teenagers chest with a sense of relief and a little pride that she could bring the reaction on. It was amusing, truly, the goat-droppings situation. Alethia hated the story, tsking when Jonathan had told his young daughter many years ago, smirking under his freckles.

“Indeed! A mar on the Hessean culture no doubt, but one that should teach a lesson. Unfortunately history has repeated itself more than once.” She interjected, before continuing on, her mouth running too fast for her to help.

And there it was. Out in the open. The truth of the matter, and the real reason for the venom in Alethia towards the very religious Hoxian in their house.

Vitanism.

Lilanee took a breath, and Tom arched a brow, but when nothing else came of it the young woman quickly continued. Maybe it was just a quirk of curiosity. She expressed her concerns, raw and out between them both. It was perhaps more than the Hessean had expected, the spellwork and the preparation and all of these things. She’d been naive, thinking they would cast a bit of scrying and a little incense. All of this though…the bath and the chan and the mediation.

Maybe this was wrong.

Bowing to the man, respectfully, before raising slowly with her voiced concerns Lilanee watched him as he resettled on the tub. Silence fell between them, full of tension and fear, and a shared sense of anticipation. The girl could feel her heartbeat in her ears, face red and blue eyes wide behind her glasses. Had she said too much again? Tom seemed to ponder for a moment, and finally, he spoke.

I’m worried too, Lilanee.

The russet brunette exhaled, not realizing that she needed to hear those words, feeling validated in her concerns. She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing against her sleeves and frowning, eyes straying to the bathtub.

Ezre-xi is – he likes to tame drakes that are a little too wild for him.

Looking up again, the teenager couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her, not at all oblivious to the meaning that was laced in that sentence. It was clear that she and the Hoxian were as different as chalk and cheese, and perhaps that was a poor choice for the both of them, but Ezre fought against their nature to keep whatever this was going. And Lilanee was grateful for it.

Her frown returned again as the older man spoke of the possession, and she shook her head slowly.

“Just to see if they could.” The ninth form finished for him, very much aware of Ezre’s inquisitive nature. They pushed boundaries when it came to the dead, without care or fear. With the living though, it seemed a much harder concept.

The candle light flickered in the lavish tiled room, water gurgling as it filled the porcelain tub and echoed off the walls, and Tom spoke his hearts truth. Lilanee felt a sense of pride at the mention of her father, her concern lifting slightly to allow a small smile to creep in.

“When we find him, I will introduce you to him. Father would love to meet you, I am sure of it. Though, I warn you, I didn’t pick up my linguistic skills from Alethia.” She chuckled again, moving away from the shelving to test the blue waters with her fingers, checking its warmth and its color. Was there a right color? Only Ezre knew she supposed. It was warm, almost too warm, thanks to the wonder of Anaxi piping systems and boiler heating—a clever idea indeed.

“My lass – before – was a Vitanist,

Lilanee froze, not lifting her gaze from the tub, afraid of hearing the word out loud. It wasn’t judgmental, or accusatory, but it was a real admission of knowledge. Tom knew. Tom knew exactly what she meant. Even if Ezre didn’t really. She was sure they had an inkling, but not a full understanding. Straightening, she turned to glance at the raen, catching his tell-tale smile. Wiping her hand on her skirt, the young woman turned to lean against the bath beside him, thumbing at the bandage on her dry hand.

“Perhaps. I was always taught that Vita is is everything, anything. All life is connected. Everything in the world is part of Vita. Living beings have souls, though when we die, they become part of Vita. Mona compose bodies, bodies become nutrients, life goes on. There are no ghosts, no Gods. Everything has a natural explanation.” She gestured, unconsciously expressive with her hands.

“We don’t disbelieve in the cycle, but we view it differently. In the course of nature, a life cycle. Not some belief that there is a plane of existence between here and there. I don’t pray to Vita, but I do commune with that around me. I have been raised with respect for the life around me, and my Hearth Tree connects me to my ancestors. My Becoming Tree grows with me, year by year.” Shrugging, the galdor adjusted her glasses.

“I know from Father that Vitanism in Hesse is more…precise. We don’t pray, and we don’t believe in supernatural forces. We are guided by what we see, touch, taste, feel and hear. Ophur, gold, is not our God. He is a concept, derived from myth and legend to represent the yellow metal that runs our country.” Looking at Tom, Lilanee smiled.

“Is she still alive, your…lass?”