[Closed] Away, Away

[Nkemi pezre Nkese]

Late Afternoon, 34 Dentis, 2719
The Church of the Moon

Nkemi’s body ached from the long half-run through the corridors and the strain of holding the spell so long before it. She stood straight beneath the heavy weight of her tiredness, looking at the Hoxian student now that they were back close to the Church of the Moon, close enough to hear the faint, drifting sound of Everine prayers. They reached out, and Nkemi was glad to wreath herself in them once more.

She thought longingly of sun-baked sandstone, of water returned to the earth, of the broad sweep of a river glittering in the sun, pounding and churning at its banks. She thought too of warmth, the sort of warmth which seeped sticky through one’s clothes, pooled in sweat down the spine.

Nkemi looked at Ezrah as he spoke. “Honesty is at the heart of honor,” the Mugrobi said, simply. “And yet there are many ways to swim through the river of truth. I do not intend to reveal what we have seen today. It is not because I wish to protect you, Ezrah-shi, but because I know too much of what I do not know.”

Nkemi turned, looking back down the hallway, her small face drawing into a frown. She looked back at the Hoxian, then, straightening up once more. “I know Hox does not share Mugrobi’s emphasis on this sort of honor, but I believe you will return to the honored one, and do what you can to ease such pain. I have no wish to intrude on such efforts, though I hope also for your safety.”

Nkemi breathed, deeply, in and out; her voice was hoarse in her throat, but she went on, because there was much yet to say.

“These books and their knowledge are not a burden which I wish to take, when they rest already in glad hands,” Nkemi said, smiling at the young student, softer than before. She thought of Ezrah’s hand stretching out to the ghost’s and the look like enthusiasm on his face, but she thought also of the grim concentration as he drew the blade over his palm, and the heavy set of his shoulders these last steps of the journey.

“I do not think I share your hopes,” Nkemi went on, her gaze lowering to the bag hanging at Ezrah’s side, a little frown wrinkling her forehead once more. “All the same, I would be glad to know something of what it is we have found, guided by the mona in our ignorance.” Her gaze lifted back to Ezrah’s face, searching a moment more. She thought of the scratched nameplates, the ruined crypts, the locks and wards; she wondered what fears left them so.

Nkemi chose to smile, then; if it was tinged with a hint of something deeper, she chose to smile nonetheless. “Let us go outside,” the Mugrobi said. “I find I long very deeply to see the sky, and any drop of sunlight which remains.”

They left the crypt behind them; the candle Nkemi left on an altar to Hulali, with a whispered Mugrobi prayer. As they walked, she peeled the wax from her fingers and palm, slowly easing strips of it away, until all that was left on her hands was a residue, and the memory of heat.

Nkemi returned Ezrah’s heavy uniform coat to him before they went outside, for all that she still shivered, cold, in hers. She was clean enough beneath it, and the smears of the damp crypt below did not show so well on the dark green wool.

The doors opened; it was not so late as to be dark, in the twilight hour when the phosphor lanterns had not yet lit, but the sun had streaked low enough to show little of itself in the sky. Nkemi breathed in deep the cold winter air, shivering a little on the steps, and squinted up at the light above.

“It was an unexpected tour,” Nkemi concluded, after a moment, turning to smile at Ezrah. She bowed, deeply, on the steps of the church, and rose up once more. “I am very grateful.”

[Ezre Vks]

the church of the moon

Late Afternoon on the 34th of Dentis, 2719

Ezre was hardly concerned for his academic standing within Brunnhold and felt less of a need for his own personal protection than perhaps his statement implied. He did not need the faculty or staff or clergy of the Everine further destroying what they'd already tried to hide so long ago. He did not want any more interference with the graves, nor did he wish to see anyone ignorantly put themselves in danger in the hungry presence of Everus Verona. If whatever secrets they'd unwittingly been led to rediscovering indeed carried the potential to change entire spiritual and historical world views well—truthfully?— Ezre was far more concerned for the people of Anaxas than he was about his standing within the Kingdom,

"It is not for my sake, Nkchemi. I wish these things out of respect for those who took those truths with them to the Crypts below. I do not need protection. I agree that what is not known, or not yet known, is far more in need of safekeeping than myself." His deadpan tone was not burdened by arrogance, aloof though he often came across as being to those not familiar with the sheer cliff faces of Hoxian rhakor, "But I am glad we agree that for the moment, silence is the better choice."

Of all the Kingdoms with which Hox had its differences, Mugroba was hardly one of them, even after Ezre's homeland had pulled away from political contact with its siblings, their relation with the desert kingdom remained one of neighborliness.

"I am unique among my people, as Hexxos. My duty of care belongs to the dead and their bereaved, so I will certainly make good on my promises to the Everus and the graves dishonored below." He nodded, watching the Mugrobi subprefect's expressions play out on her face, dark eyes attempting to read emotions he knew and felt even if he didn't always show them in the same way. Adjusting the now-heavy satchel he wore almost self-consciously under the weight of the woman's gaze, he arched a delicate eyebrow at her admission,

"I am more than willing to stay in touch. You will have to share with me how best to reach you." Unfortunately, the young Guide's pockets were already heavy with various seer stones—he was known to joke that his wealth could be measured in them instead of coin—but he did not have any to spare, not until he returned to Hox to have them made by his uncle and cousins, "I will be briefly stopping over in Mugroba to change flights over winter break. At least, that is my current aspiration."

He'd planned to return home again while in Kzecka in Roalis, while new ink was laid under his skin, but he wasn't entirely sure of when. Winter break seemed the most convenient, even if it was the season of most difficult travel.

"Perhaps in addition to forbidden knowledge, you can make more practical recommendations about options for furthering my education within Thul'Amat." Ezre returned her smile, a hopefulness in his tone even if it wasn't entirely intentional of him to completely change the subject from all they'd just experienced. He lead the way up the stairs in agreement with her request; even if he didn't find himself longing for the sun in the same way as his Mugrobi companion, his appreciation of its light was no less enthusiastic after so much time in the stale darkness of the Crypts below the Church of the Moon. If he glanced more warily around at the Everine that drifted by them, quite aware of the pair of figures he and the subprefect struck being wet and dirty should one choose to inspect them too closely, well, it hardly showed on his tattooed face.

He felt it instead, somewhere deep in his chest: a concern for what else had gone forgotten in secret for the Circle only knew how long.

Wanting to feel the Dentis air, he took his coat with a bob of his head but folded it across his arm and carried it instead, longing for the wind to cut through his clothes instead of avoiding its chill touch. The sun was setting in the autumn sky, but it was not yet low enough to be entirely hidden from view. Ezre found himself more grateful than not, and he glanced at the long, sharp shadows stretched across Brunnhold's well-manicured landscape,

"While that was not what I expected, I am most grateful also. It is a rare experience to meet others who have not entirely dismissed the existence of spiritual experiences." Ezre was unsure of how to group anomalies in the Cycle, even if he was quite sure the Mugrobi subprefect wasn't aware of all that was out there. Her faith in the Circle was also refreshing, but the Hoxian was quite aware that his homeland's desert neighbors were generally more genuine in their faith than Anaxi as a whole, "I would like to explore Serkaih some day. I have a feeling I might know who to look for as a guide."

[Nkemi pezre Nkese]

Late Afternoon, 34 Dentis, 2719
Outside The Church of the Moon

Nkemi’s smile broadened and lightened when Ezrah mentioned he would be willing to stay in touch. She thought of the young student’s eager questions during class, how he had fallen out of his chair in excitement; for all that the tour had been very odd, it had been no less enthusiastic. She thought, too, of the solemn gravity of his promise to the Everus below, and the weight with which he held it now beneath his still face.

“I will be in Vienda until some time in Bethas,” Nkemi said, cheerfully, “and more than likely again once Hamis has come to an end. I stay at the Seventen barracks, there. From my correspondence with Professor Jacquemond,” she went through the consonants carefully, one-by-one, in the Anaxi style, “it seems that it does not take very long for letters to travel between Brunnhold and Vienda.”

The scale of Anaxas Nkemi still found strange. She was not sure; it seemed to her as if Vienda could be fit into Thul Ka many times over, with room left still for more. The distance between Vienda and Brunnhold was a tiny fraction of the distance between Thul Ka and Serkaih, and a tinier fraction still of the distance between Thul Ka and Hulali’s Handprints, or Demoga, or Pa Krat; all the same, Anaxi traveled very often in airships. No one had made any suggestion of a caravan or carriage between Vienda and Brunnhold; Nkemi had looked at the map herself, and plotted it, carefully, and did not think it could have been more than 2 days.

“May our warmth be a gift to you during such cold times,” Nkemi said, solemnly. For all that she had once thought Mugroba cold during winter, she was quickly learning it was not so by Anaxi standards.

Nkemi inclined her head when Ezrah asked about Thul’Amat. “I should be very glad,” she said, cheerfully. “I can make some recommendations for books, for Ire’dzosat, and perhaps even inquire as to with whom you might wish to correspond. I am more familiar with scrying than warding, but there is also an excellent faculty in warding, which I think may be more to your interests.”

Nkemi did not look, then, down at the palms of the Hexxos, where the skin was still parted and red just barely gleamed between the lines of old scars.

“May I use your notebook?” Nkemi asked, politely. She would take it from Ezrah, and write her name and address with cold, aching fingers, Nkemi pezre Nkese, and the details of the Seventen barracks in Vienda, for his reference. For all that she held the notebook on one hand and wrote with the other, and for all that the wind did its best to stir her efforts, the final results were small, neat and legible, if not precisely lovely.

The air outside was crisp, and cold, but fresh; the sunlight still streamed through it, the last lingering wash of warmth. Nkemi was not so foolish as to think of bearing her skin to it, but she thought longingly of a time when she might again, even as she shivered in a gust of wind.

Nkemi glanced sideways at Ezrah when he spoke of Serkaih; she grinned. “I would be most honored, Ezrah-shi, to repay you so. It is be necessity an unexpected blessing to be reminded that one must, so often, let go of expectations. I am most grateful for the light you have shown on truths of my life long since buried; I am most grateful, too, to leave knowing more than I did before. This, I think, should be the goal of any tour.” She grinned at him.

It was not much later that, glancing around, Nkemi adjusted her scarf more firmly around her neck, and made her way back through the paths of campus, towards the guest room she called her own; she looked forward to something to eat, no matter how heavy the thick, bland food might sit within her, and to the soft warmth of her Anaxi-style brazier and bed. The crypt and her journey through it she left behind her, though not – never – forgotten.

[Ezre Vks]

the church of the moon

Late Afternoon on the 34th of Dentis, 2719

The Hoxian nodded as Nkemi gifted him with her schedule of residence in Anaxas, Ezre at least aware that her attachment in the kingdom was through the Seventen. He could have mentioned he would be away over Brunnhold's winter break, but his plans were currently still in formation, unsure as to whether he would be traveling alone or with guests,

"Anaxi terrain lends itself to swift travel." He smiled, slightly, as if making some small joke, aware of how vast the desert kingdom and how mountainous his own, "But they are also an impatient people."

Adjusting his returned coat, attempting to find its fit again even though, truth be told, he'd never found the uniform comfortable at all, his expression grew from just the faintest hint of amusement into something more obvious in its gratitude than his rhakor would have otherwise allowed had he not given himself permission to share of himself so purposefully, "While my focus here in Brunnhold is actually not magic, but mortuary, I have found over the course of the past few years that my preferred studies extend beyond the mortal body. I would be most grateful for whatever recommendations you may have, as I look forward to moving forward with my—well—education."

There were parts of Anaxas he'd grown quite attached to, honestly, but those parts were all people and at least one of them would perhaps desire to travel with him while the other at least tolerated corresponding with him on occasion.

His delicate brows rose at her request, shifting to bring his now-soggy satchel around in front of him, opening it and unable to keep himself from running inked fingers over the wet, delicate spines of the books that hadn't seen even a hint of the sun in only the Circle—incomplete as it may have been—could possibly know for sure. He dug out with a particular delicateness his personal notebook, nestled as it was against pure controversy, "Zjai."

He answered softly, drawing out the consonants while he handed the subprefect her request. Once she'd taken it, he fished out a pencil from a pocket, wiping it on his coat first because it had gotten quite wet. He watched, dark eyes following the dark graphite on the page, the rich color of Nkemi's skin in the last of the day's light, the motion of her hand precise and careful like her spellwork.

"It is often assumed that knowledge ends where the grave begins, but it is a tenant of my people that the Cycle itself proves otherwise. Or, perhaps, the brokenness of it." Ezre added the last sentence with far more emotional inflection than the rest of his words, nodding curtly at the wisdom the Mugrobi woman shared while he tucked his things away. Her grin was like a match in the stale, black air beneath the Church of the Moon—quick and bright—and the Hoxian appreciated the generosity in how she shared its light.

"It was good to meet you, Nkchemi pezre Nkcheshe, and I look forward to keeping in touch."

He knew exactly who else would be laying their eyes on the books he now clutched to his chest instead of returning to the small of his back, bowing deeply before both of them went their separate ways across campus.

Different directions, but now irreversibly connected journeys.