"Rimieh"

[jujumojo]

The Past - When Madness Sets In.

"A passion for something .. or somebody .. is a drive towards a goal. Something to be achieved, something to strive for.
Passion does not require a loss of control.
At its best, fear is a defence. A drive to protect from perceived harm. We all feel both everyday.
Fear can drive us as surely as any passion but it's destructive. Nobody likes to be afraid but we accept it.
You .. you didn't seem to accept being afraid as normal."

The silver haired elf's voice echoed in his thoughts as everything faded.

And so, here we are again, my old friend.
You have slipped too far this time.
You know it.
Such gross weakness.
The green eyes blur together
and so, you have forgotten her.

_________________________________________

"Such delightful snow, wouldn't you say, my lovely."

"I would."

"It is a pleasant change from the usual rain."

"It is..."

He moved in closer to her, studying her curiously, this woman he loathed.
He could smell her hair. He could see the street lanterns reflected in her eyes.
He spoke the words on a near silent breath close to her ear.

"It is like a whisper, the snow. Compared to a spoken word... the latter is so clumsy in comparison.
Like a raindrop falling, breaking itself into hundreds of pieces as it hits the ground..."

She smiled. It sickened him.

"Like a whisper..." he continued. "The snow lights softly, but the cold of it sinks through your skin. Makes you shiver."

She didn't stir. But he saw the goosebumps breaking out on her arms.

____________________________________________

So cold.
It's cold, and quiet.
She shrugged and turned away...

I don't remember the last time I was warm.
I don't remember what I dreamed about when I last rested.
I don't remember how good it felt when we last...

He opened his eyes and realised the woman with the bright emerald eyes wasn't beside him. Some fleeting thought was surprised as the cold took him.

"What do you remember?"

Green eyes.

_________________________________________

Wide, gold eyes locked onto his in an expression of pure shock as he felt the warmth of the sun elf's blood... his brother's blood... spill onto his hands at his sword hilts.

He shivered.

Bloody hand prints on a door handle.

So messy.

Yes, that's right. You remember.
They have ruined you my friend.
Love is a tool.
You have fallen to it.
Such an insult to her, that your first lesson was not enough.
Their words...
You took them all like a bait.

Softly, so softly, he spoke. Glassy, dark green eyes staring up at the falling snow and the icy stars beyond. His lips were blue and his voice was slow from the cold.

"What would Fei think of me right now?"

So stupid. She was an infant. She had never had such opinions.

..."What would ...she... think of me...?"

____________________________________________

Something moved through the curtain of snow, and turned his gaze towards it.

There were those eyes, so vivid as she approached, leaving soft footprints in her wake, her long, dark hair down and framing her face.
She knelt down before him and touched his lips with fingertips that were warm and.. Gods, so painfully familiar.
He closed his eyes and prayed that death would take him, because at this moment, he needed nothing else.

Nothing else mattered.

"I'm sorry." He whispered in elvish, the tears freezing even before they had crawled halfway down his cheeks.

The emerald green eyes did not leave his.

"You never apologise." Her voice met his ears. Silvery like a flute.
He lost his breath.

"Why now?" Every word in perfect elvish.

"Because of what I have become. Because I'm dying." His lips formed the words, and he was both devastated and surprised to hear them.

The angel smiled sadly at him. And the cold of the snow evaporated away, just like that. He felt the warmth. He knew everything had just been a lie - except for her...

Because she was real.

"You cannot."

Without even knowing what she was referring to, as it had been so many times in the past, all those years ago, he played along, asking on the breath of a whisper, nearly completely covered by the snow..

"Why not?"

The beautiful smile grew wider, and somehow sadder... his chest hurt.

"Because" She said knowingly. "It does not make sense."

And suddenly, just like that, it did.

His heart beat slowed. He felt it, and thought that it would stop... Hoped that it would... even as he closed his eyes and knew she would be gone if he ever opened them again.
Already he felt the relentlessly dull ache of the cold sinking all the way through to his bones.
His lips far too numb to have felt any such touch, his fingers were so frozen they may as well have been dead to him.

"Don't go..."

Only the empty, falling snow answered.

She was never here. She would never forgive you for what you have become.

The cold, hard reality set in, as real and brutal as the cold ice of the deadly pass. The freezing white powder burying him alive.

She shrugged and turned away.

He opened his eyes slowly, and all thought, all reason, all of it just melted away.

[jujumojo]

// liberties taken with other characters as I had to re-tell with no logs. If there are any issues let me know. Will fix (mis)spelling of names later sorry//

Broken Shards and a New Life.

Words are important to me...
...Were...

It was warm. The familiarity was so sharp, so intense.
The fire. The Inn. Her.

And still he shivered violently.

Everything the dark haired, hazel-eyed elf said to him in those warm moments. Those last words...

She was right. So right.

He was barely holding it together.
He knew it would not be much longer.
Those last few words...

None of it mattered.

______________________________________

"Oooh you must be cold!"

The halfling plopped herself down to sit beside the elf in the snow by the wall in Isinhold, wide eyed, watching him sit there and shiver.
He looked to her as she spoke, and stopped tracing the patterns on the icy brick wall in front of him with frozen fingertips. His lips were blue. His teeth chattered.

He didn't realise, but the sensation was comfortingly familiar.
When he didn't say anything, the halfling continued.

"Why don't you come into the inn? It's warm there."

Still no response. It was as though he hadn't heard her, though he still watched her with a vague curiosity and a body fighting a losing battle against hypothermia.
After another few moments pause the halfling continued, undaunted.

"I'm Poppy. What's your name?"

The elf's teeth still chattering uncontrollably were his only reply before his gaze became distracted by a falling snow flake.

"Hmmmm... I don't speak good elf. Maybe we can find someone who does. OOh I know! Chondathan! Everyone speaks that."

She asked for his name in the different tongue, but still received no satisfactory response.
A few travelers passed, one of them elvish. Poppy ran after them.

"HEY! DOES ANYONE SPEAK GOOD ELF-... HRMPH." She folded her arms huffily as they kept walking, ignoring the short legged one who couldn't keep up enough to get their attention.

"They never listen to me. It's 'cos I'm small."

She looked back to the elf again, who seemed to be watching her with fascination, but still gave no sign of response.
The halfling's expression changed quite suddenly to one of sorrow. Her chirpy voice softened to something much sadder.

"Oh no, ... I wonder what happened to you..."

She looked down at his hands. He followed her gaze. She then smiled again brightly and offered both of hers.
The movement was automatic as he responded to the offer and took her small hands in his.

"Come on, lets get you some warm milk and find you a nice place to rest out of the cold."

He allowed himself to be tugged along by the halfling, towards the inn.
Ten minutes later he was staring at a plain but comfortable looking bunk, an empty glass of milk held strangely in one hand as though he didn't know what to do with it, a key held in the other, in a similar fashion.

Poppy pointed to the bed.

"You should sleep there -- oh wait, silly me, you don't sleep do you? Well, get some rest anyway. I'll be right over here.."

She backed away, watching his response, before climbing into her own plain, yet comfortable looking bunk bed a few beds down from his. She was quite quickly asleep.

______________________________________

He watched the two elves in elegant conversation.
The male elf glanced his way occasionally with an odd look on his face. After all, it was hardly usual to see a sun elf sitting in the cold, wet snow with nothing but a brick wall in front of him, two empty sword sheaths strapped loosely around his hips and a ragged yet warm looking cloak fastened about his shoulders.

The quarterstaff-wielding female seemed preoccupied.

Several weeks ago the sun elf would have found himself shaking his head and making a few sharp mental notes on the conversation.

"That is a fine weapon. I favour the bow myself."

Please. You think such an uninspired compliment is going to spark her interest?
Oh well, I suppose it works for some.. if your standards are low enough.

But he didn't think. He just listened.

The female elf smiled.

"I too favour the bow as my choice of weapon, this is just a walking stick - although it has its uses if I'm caught unawares by foes in places they shouldn't be."

"Ah, how many seasons have you trained with it?"

The conversation grew increasingly dry, completely lacking in wit.
Eventually the female left, and the male elf approached the gold one sitting in the snow, again tracing his vague patterns on the icy brick wall.
He looked him over, and sat down, his attention turning to the patterns.

"Is everything alright cousin?" He asked in elvish.

Dark green eyes turned the newcomer's way and studied his face carefully, before the gaze returned to the invisible patterns on the wall.

"I do hope you are not tracing magic into that wall so that it explodes when we walk away" the other elf, Elith, chuckled in an attempt at a light tone, though his eyes followed the sun elf's fingertips carefully.

Silence lingered for some moments before Elith placed his own fingertip against the wall, copying the sun elf's patterns meticulously.
The gold elf stopped his own actions and watched the second elf's fingertip intently.
Gradually he started to draw patterns again, but his gaze remained on Elith's hand, which repeated the actions of his own like a mirror.
Some time passed before the sun elf placed both his palms flat against the freezing wall and looked away, his gaze vaguely distracted by a clumsily flying bug.

"What is your name cousin?" The voice to the right asked him again, curiously.

The sun elf turned... then took one hand off the wall to fish through his pockets randomly.
He took something out. A half crumpled, yet once carefully folded note. He placed it down on the ground between himself and the moon elf, then looked back to the bug.

Elith took the note and unfolded it slowly.

Written upon it, was a simple name, with an Alaghon address below it. The dragon coast was miles away, and no place one would be likely to find a sun elf.
Yet here was a name. Elith smiled slowly and looked at the sun elf as he re-folded the note and replaced it back onto the ground.

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Ilvasio Sorrand. My name is Elith J(//something//).
If you need anything, ask for me. If anyone gives you trouble... call upon me. Here.."

He placed a bag of sixteen gold pieces on the ground beside the note. The sun elf's intent gaze watched carefully.

"Take these and use them to trade, stay somewhere warm and buy some new clothes. Farewell cousin."

With that Elith stood and backed away slowly.
'Ilvasio Sorrand' put the note back into the same pocket he drew it from, then picked up the bag of coins, and tipped out the contents onto the snow in front of him, spending some time entertaining himself by studying each coin individually, as though memorising every detail.

Elith chuckled quietly to himself and left.

[jujumojo]

Poisons.

Ilvasio: *takes out a few more empty ale bottles and gradually makes a circle around Mithika after placing one gold coin upon each of her shoes.*
Mith: ... *shifts as she tries to get a good look at the bottles without moving her feet*
Ilvasio: *only once he's finished the circle of bottles does he look up to her face*
Mith: ...Hoot...
Hoot: What?
Mith: ...Do you... know what... he's doing? *points at the fellow setting bottles around her feet*
Tanya: *watches the bottle game*
Ailren: I think the elf may be a compulsive.
Hoot: *eyes Ilvasio* Hmm.
Tanya: *staying just outside of 'big spell' radius*
Ailren: Probably belongs in a Selunite temple.
Mith: I don't like standin' so still. It's makin' me feel like I'll fall over.
Hoot: Did you ask him?
Mith: He's not payin' attention... Like Lance when he's talkin' to the wind.
Hoot: Smack him and get his attention.
Mith: What? I can't just hit him...
Hoot: Want me to?
Mith: Err.... Really sir, what are you doing?
Ilvasio: *he seems to look off, distracted for a moment as though he'd forgotten Mith was even there.*
Mith: *gives her left foot a quick jerk, intending to send the coin flying back at the fellow*
Ilvasio: *gets hit in the eye. Flinches and recoils, rubbing his eye and with his good eye, stares down at the coin in shock*
Mith: *gives her other foot a shake to get the coin off, then steps out of the bottle circle*
Tanya: *steps into the bottle circle and grins at Mith* Let's see what this is all about.
Ilvasio: *looks up at Tanya, his expression bordering somewhere between anger and fear, still rubbing his eye*
Tanya: What happens in your circle when night turns to day? When shadow gives way to snow? From pure to pure...

Ilvasio: [whisper] Wind flies.

Tanya: ... And carries it all away. *steps out of the circle*
Ilvasio: *Stares at the bottle circle dumbly*
Ailren: You might want to step back. Ones like him can explode without warning. *in a droll tone* If he does, try not to kill him. I have a hold monster spell ready.
Ilvasio: *picks up one of the bottles and rolls it away roughly in frustration*
Tanya: Of course. I would never kill anyone.
Mith: He reminds me of Ma'am Starla really. *eyes Ilvasio*
Tanya: Only moreso *nods* I wonder if this is a new effect of blood magic. A new line? Potent but at a high price.
Mith: Maybe he's got a curse.
Ailren: Anyone tried checking the thing for curses or disease? Maybe the effects of a feeblemind spell?
Mith: Hmm I don't have any way of checkin' that stuff meself...
Rosaline: Oh, he's acting all comatose and... broken?
Mith: Yep and placing coins on peoples' feet.
Ailren: Playing with bottles and coins.
Tanya: *sits in the circle of bottles*
Ilvasio: *Looks to Tanya again warily*
Rosaline: Well um.. bottles and coins are nice.. I guess.
Tanya: *Raises her head enough to make eye contact with him*
Ilvasio: *meets the gaze intently*

Coal black eyes, filled with caring contempt like a sweet death.

I know those eyes. Sweet distraction.
Temptation... Irony, fate....
Passion.
Hate.
Addiction.
Intent.
Satisfaction.

Poison. I know you. Take me.

Ilvasio: [whisper] Bait.

Celithiril: Maybe he needs a priest *Shrugs*

Tanya: [whisper] So this is a trap, yes?
Ilvasio: [whisper] Wind flies. Words are bait. Black eyes... She shrugged and walked away.
Tanya: [whisper] She returns.

I don't want her to. She can rot in all the hells for what she did to me.

Ilvasio: [whisper] I am weak.
Tanya: [whisper] All are weak.
Ilvasio: [whisper] You can take it all away. *his eyes still meet hers squarely* You promised.

Those eyes are what I seek. Mine. My purpose. Give it to me.

Tanya: *Slowly and steadily puts her hand out towards him as if to accept something. her eyes not breaking the contact with his*
Ilvasio: *he breaks eye contact to regard the movement of her hand carefully*
Tanya: [whisper] I can only take it away if you give it away.
Ilvasio: *instead of taking any action with her hand, he looks to her face again and very slowly pulls her hood back.*
Ilvasio: [whisper] Two words.
Tanya: [whisper] Tell me.
Ilvasio: [whisper] I'm yours.

...If only you knew...

*She whispered something else, then, Three firm, unmistakable commands.*

Tanya: *stands and replaces her hood, stepping away from the bottle ring.*

The last words rang in his mind with an intense familiarity, and those eyes refused to leave him for long hours after she was gone.

[jujumojo]

Jagged Pieces.

The coins scattered across the cobblestones and the one some called Ilvasio watched them blankly.

The two elves beside him didn't seem to know how to respond, and why should they?

He'd spoken shortly before. Three whispered words of pure confidence.

"I would win."

But I have already lost.
Then why are you not dead?
Death is a waste.
You are weak. Weakness is waste.
I don't want to play.
Afraid to lose now? Pathetic.
No.
What, then?
I can't think.
Weak. Try harder.

He scattered the coins further away in frustration and put down the cloak Poppy had given him to cover them as though he didn't want to see them.

His two companions exchanged uncertain glances.
_____________________________________________

It was all a blur of beautiful, albeit drunken, bard women, elves, moody men sitting at the bar, the hooded woman in white robes and black eyes walking out of the inn, past him, and away...
A healing potion offered away, declined and given back to him.

But then he saw the dark robed one draw the blade.

Somewhere, he knew what he was being asked. But everywhere else, it didn't matter. There was nothing else in the world but that blade, for that one moment.

"I require some of your hair." The softly spoken (and rather odd) request floated about his ears like meaningless air.

When the dark robed one put the blade away, gave up and left, Ilvasio watched him go.

And all of a sudden, there were pieces to put together.
Scattered shards of breathing puzzles.

Questions took ambiguous shape. Air took on half-hearted meaning, which of course, was no meaning at all when it came to Loyalty.

I can't think.
Try harder. You're better than this.

Black, coal eyes of ironic trust and stony compassion bit into his thoughts, spurring him like a drug.

You are stronger than this.

The woman, Lydia, walked down the stairs and into the room.
Red hair. Green eyes. He didn't know her name, but his mind had already given her one.

All at once, the pieces scattered.

He took a lock of Mith's hair and left to find the dark-robed one.

[jujumojo]

Rimieh.

"You're seeming better."

Tanya said, the elf beside her having sat down on the ground beside her bench, facing away from her and occasionally speaking soft, disjointed sentences.

"Afraid."

"Of what?"

"Loyalty."

"Not afraid. Just unfamiliar."

"Help me and I will show you."

"Show me and I will help you."

She had already helped him without realising it. She already had his loyalty, he was hers - whether or not she knew the extent of that.

He would do what she had asked of him, or he would die trying.

"I haven't forgotten." He said, then paused before continuing.
"Proskur."

The woman turned to look at him with those death eyes.

"You want me to take you to Proskur?"

....

Several hours later, they arrived just outside the gates of Proskur, and Tanya took her leave.

The sun elf stayed where he was, studying the gates for long moments. The guards for the most part, ignored him, only giving their usual "Stay out of trouble" when he approached the gates themselves.

Slowly, he pushed them open. Then he heard a voice behind him, a woman's voice.

"Don't know why you'd be heading into Proskur. It's a nice place and all but those Red Wizards are a bit unfriendly really. Especially on account of you being an elf."

The elf paused and looked over his shoulder. The woman was hooded and garbed in black, but he recognised the voice to belong to Mithika.

He slowly closed the gates again and turned to approach her.

Sitting down by the tree just outside the walls, the two had a halting conversation... the one with the broken mind, and this girl who had followed him here out of apparent concern.

In that conversation, he picked up a few vital pieces of information. Amongst them...

"Kethoth is the ambassador of Proskur."

It wasn't until Mithika spoke on more personal matters that she asked,

"What's your name?"

to which the elf replied

"Give me one."

She paused at that, seeming uncertain, but he watched her squarely.

And that was when the red robed one stepped out of the gates of Proskur, eyeing the two by the tree, who both turned to face him.

He squinted at them dubiously.

"...Hnn...."

Mithika addressed him immediately.

"Hello Mr Kethoth Sir.."

The wizard replied.

"If you wish to talk you should do so within the gates. It can be... dangerous outside the walls."

Mithika fidgeted and lowered her eyes. The elf watched the exchange in curious silence, his mind ticking over.

"Well sir... no offense but I don't feel too comfortable in Proskur what with Ramas starting all those fights and all..."

She trailed off though. The sun elf's eyes glinted a little and he looked Kethoth over again more carefully, then got to his feet even as she spoke, making his way agreeably towards the gates.

He glanced back to see if Mith was following.
She did.

Kethoth accompanied the two to the tables and chairs outside, where the three sat.

The elf figured Mithika and Kethoth were no strangers to each other.

Conversation came slowly, with Kethoth questioning Mithika about her new "friend", their purpose for being in Proskur and so on.

It was only after they had established the sun elf's slight difficulty in speech and thought and Kethoth had suggested magic may be the cause, that the red robed mage began to speak of his own magic.

"Ilvasio" looked at him squarely, his eyes glinting again with thought and now, intent.

"Teach me."

Kethoth was speechless for some seconds, staring at the elf.

Mithika bit her lip and fidgeted nervously.

"Oh, you're serious..." The wizard said after a good half minute.

The elf's gaze remained set on the man.

"You are asking me, archmage of the Red Wizards to take you as a student? ... Not even considering the fact you are... well, no need to bring that up just now. Why? You could have your own people teach you surely."

"Archmage." The elf replied.

"...Hnn..." The wizard squinted at the elf much more carefully.
"Why do you want to learn the art of magic?"

"Loyalty." Had been the simple reply.

The wizard's eyes narrowed at that.

"Loyalty to whom?" It was, of course, the perfect question. Not that he needed to know that just now. Whether it was the elf's broken mind replying, or whether he was indeed deflecting the question, he couldn't even tell himself.
But he responded as though reciting from a memory or a book.

"Loyalty is stronger than love or hate."

The wizard continued studying the elf, half suspiciously, half thoughtfully as though trying to piece together what he was about.

"...Hnnn.... yes. Unquestionable loyalty is one of the key principles the Red Wizards stand by... Give me a good reason I should teach you."

The sun elf brought a hand up to the tip of his ear.

"An example."

Mithika broke in then.

"I could pay for him Mr Kethoth Sir.. " but the wizard waved her away.

"Some costs are not covered with gold."

They entered into some thoughtful debate about the elf's request. Ilvasio's eyes remained fixed on the red robed one, until finally Kethoth spoke again....

"I am intrigued. I will teach him, at least cantrips and the first circle of spells. He is willing to learn, that much is clear by his determination to learn from a master. It will be interesting to see what comes of it."

"You're not going to make him a slave are you Mr Kethoth Sir?"

"No. Not a slave." The wizard's eyes turned icy with amusement as he again regarded the sun elf.

"But there will be a price of course. However.... I require at the very least, that you provide me with a name."

At that, the sun elf looked at Mithika, who fidgeted and bit her lip again.... but replied after a moment.

"His... his name is Rimieh. That's what he told me before."

___________________________________________

The first lesson with Kethoth had gone well.

Rimieh was very rusty with the weave, despite having dabbled with it during basic lessons over two centuries earlier, the skills had left him - and still, it took him only two tries to master the spell of "Light" again.

His first test. To prove to Kethoth that he could cast it, by imbuing a scroll with the spell, and casting it upon himself.

As instructed, he had copied the spell out ten times before creating the scroll itself.

He did so with all the other cantrip spells voluntarily. But did not touch any of the first circle spells as yet.
Kethoth had made it clear he did not want to create a 'sloppy' wizard, and that to prove he was capable, he should master cantrips first.

It seemed fate had not finished throwing ironies at him just yet.

The poisonous black eyes haunted him between his conscious and waking hours, and he knew his purpose.

Those three instructions Tanya had given him rang clearly in his memory amidst all Kethoth's lectures.

"Find Ramas. Red Wizard. Kill him."

"Why do you want to learn magic from me?"

"Loyalty."

[jujumojo]

Something.

"What is valuable, Rimieh?"

"It depends on who you ask."

"Everything, Rimieh. And nothing.
The truth falls somewhere between those two depending, just like my previous question, on whom you ask."

There they were. The two culprit words. It surprised him how much they stung, though it was hardly to be unexpected.

Truth.
Yes, there was one. And of course, irony had its cruel part to play, ever stalking the shadows of shared words for Rimieh.

The only proven, undeniable truth is that there is "something". And that's all I ever wanted - but what I got was everything and nothing.

To know and feel two extremes whilst both were happening was the path to madness. It was little wonder things had ended as they did.

I think I am going to be sick.

___________________________________________

"You are hurting me. Just go."

Her reaction was predictable; her head dropped for a second before coming back up to meet his gaze. Her eyes brimmed but she said nothing as she stood and left.

___________________________________________

How close he had come to pulling away... Such a surprise that she did not recoil herself when he eased her down...

"I want to die just when I didn't see it coming.
I want my last thought to be 'Curses, they got me.'"

"Understand that I love you and I miss your touch. Please... even if there's truly no hope for us .. once more?" She pleaded.

He felt then, all too sharply, her closeness. Her svelte little body pressed against his... she, holding him close..

I want you to use me. I want to give you everything of meaning for one distraction. Take it. It's yours.
Take me.

"Don't say that..."

__________________________________________

"Are you going to keep fighting against it, or are you going to let yourself go and enjoy it?" The emerald-eyed one jibed slyly, promising him everything and nothing. Giving it all on the condition of full certainty it would be torn away from him in a matter of mere weeks.

___________________________________________

Curses. She got me.

___________________________________________

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing."

___________________________________________

The devout smirked, almost as though in amusement as the elf turned away and half staggered outside the city gates to throw up.

[jujumojo]

Wind and Blood.

Nimble fingers turned over the jewels slowly as he sorted them into a small pouch, ready for his next meeting with Kethoth.

Intent eyes memorised every detail and imperfection of the stones until each of them were out of sight.

"Walk your path. Do not force it. If this is your path, you will have no choice." Tanya had said to him.

He didn't expect her to understand, especially when he bordered on the edge of bewilderment himself.

He was infatuated with her.
She was his path.

Did he have a choice?
He had to pause to think it over.
The alternative, it always came down to the alternative. Veristan... The man reminded Rimieh of himself before he had come to this place.
Yet here was as Ri saw it, a ruined man who wasted himself on a purpose that, whilst at least it existed, meant nothing.
Logic had all too often told Rimieh that death was a waste.

Death aside, there was something there. That same thirst for knowledge - and more importantly, the intent to use it.
Perhaps Veristan's way was the alternative.
An offer made.
Rimieh respected him in the same way he held respect for a trusted enemy. In fact, the same way he respected Kethoth.

He knew their kind, and the simple truth was that he had missed those ways. He was caught between the black and the white squares on the chessboard, the climax of winning or losing, everything or nothing.

Logic dictated he should find a patch of grey and strategise before the killing blows came from either angle. Something... But "something" had escaped him.

And she was different...

The promise was there with Tanya. The blade's edge. The perfect shade of grey.

"I . . . love . . . to take sweetly the last breath . . ."

She said she was not one for games. And yet she had appreciation for intense "art". The art of a kill, the art of words, some hidden passion. She had proven that much.

There was also the fact that he was already treading the path of a mage as Kethoth's student.

Tanya was not beyond mistakes. Already she had re-thought two things she had been almost certain of previously, for no better reason than she didn't have her facts straight.

So messy.

Logically, some part of Rimieh knew that it wasn't good enough. But somehow, just as logically, that made it all the more perfect. The puzzle with that one missing piece.
He loved it.

He saw her eyes again in his mind's eye and he knew.
He had given his word. She was his path.

He had no choice.

And for once, he didn't care.

[jujumojo]

Slaves, Cats and Cages.

He turned the blade over in his hand.

It was an elegant, distinctive weapon.
Both his scabbards were now full of steel that didn't truly belong there... But he didn't allow himself to think back to the oh-so-familiar blades that were there barely months ago.

Not yet. They were gone, it didn't matter.

"My dagger" Tanya had called him.
The highest compliment he could imagine from one who claimed the things that she did.

She'd given him the blade gifted to her by her mentor. Her first blade, she'd told him. Whether she'd meant it or not, didn't matter. Perhaps she was testing him to see how much he would value the gift.

Yet, the very next day she'd told him most of what she said was a lie. What was she trying to do?
Throw him off guard? Test him? Push him away?

Desperate lies of one who was afraid.
Perhaps not such a perfect shade of grey after all.
She spoke as though she expected him to go back on the things he had said... as though she expected it to make a difference.

"I trust you Rimieh."

It changed nothing.
If she had never trusted him, it would have made no difference.
If she had hated him, it would have made no difference...

If she had killed him, he would have welcomed death by her hand.

The irony washed over him. Such "truths" he had told her, such nothing it meant to her - or so she would have him believe.
It should have disappointed him, he knew. It should have driven him to resentment, hate, pain perhaps? but it didn't.

Because loyalty was stronger than love or hate.
Or perhaps because logic had overruled any emotions to begin with, aside from desire... (Though, was it the other way around?)

Or simply because he was hers.

"I meant everything I said.
Approach me again when you require me, or when you decide to do so...
Or never."

He turned away as though the farewell meant nothing.
Because it did.

______________________________________

Veristan.

A contract. An ally. Spurred by the fact that, if Tanya did not approach him again, his purpose was in stasis.

Veristan, who, like Rimieh, valued order. Understood the values of influence. And like Rimieh, worked towards something.. even if the "what" was not so obvious to the sun elf just yet.

Rimieh had no power, no influence, without people.
That he knew. Veristan wanted to create influence, but as Rimieh saw it, he had nothing to stand on.
Perhaps information - the devout was an observant listener, but little else.

Information was only enough if you knew how to use it. And then, only if you had the people and emotions to work with...
They could prove highly valuable to each other under their "contract".

But above all else, Veristan was reliable. Cage or not, it was something Rimieh needed.
_______________________________________

She was confused. He could see that. Her eyes darted about and glimmered with thought. Emotions too perhaps.

She stared at the stars.

"When someone gazes out at the sky or the ocean, it means they want something impossible..."

Somewhere in his mind, he wanted to find out what. Somewhere, he wanted to figure it out. Take each piece of her apart, put her back together - as was his way.

But for once, he pushed the intrigue away.
Oh yes, she was confused. But she was also nervous.
He liked it.

"I will give you this one moment. On the condition you do not expect anything more."

She'd asked him to kiss her. So he did.

... The familiarity of the moment caught him off guard, and hours later he found his thoughts plagued by half-forgotten images he just as quickly drove from his mind.

"Do you often do things in the moment?"
"Yes. But not in the way that you probably mean."

In the moment, yes. Every present action was carried out in the moment.
But with Rimieh, always for a reason. Always with an intent.

This, he was slowly coming to realise once more.
The familiarity felt good.

[jujumojo]

Invitations, Challenges and Orders.

Alliances. So very interesting that in this place, others were so reluctant to "give".
It was unlike the attitudes Ri had come across in his last decade of life, but then again, that had been a different place...

"Do you feel that this alliance is one-sided, Mr Rimieh?"[/i] Veristan had asked him.

Ri had been thinking that very response over earlier that day during the conversation with Taure, so it came easily to him.

"All alliances need to be one-sided at one stage or another. Otherwise they cannot exist to begin with."[/i]

Veristan dipped his head in that gesture of comprehension and acceptance. It promised nothing more, and nothing less.

"Veristan is easy to respect, but difficult to like."[/i] Taure had told him.
He couldn't have said it better himself.
Ri had learned very well over the years, that much of the time, the best way to get what you wanted from people was to make them believe you were giving of yourself.
The same rule seemed to apply here, if much more slowly.

"See what happens when you play hero?"[/i]

Oh yes, he saw. Provided you kept yourself safe, it was the most effective path to respect and trust.

Veristan had his bandages and his accepting dips of the head...
Ri had words and himself.

Besides, he never forgot a debt.
__________________________________

He stared at the scroll before him intently, engraving every detail into his mind.
He had been here for many hours now, it was too much, he knew.. he was trying to memorise too much in too short a space of time.
But he had to know... he had to learn more...

Just one more... this will be the last...

He could feel something slipping. Sweat beaded on his brow, and suddenly, the arcane lettering consumed him - he couldn't tear his eyes away.

The black haired woman sat on the chair, bound in a straight jacket with blankly staring dolls eyes. She didn't make a sound as he cut her throat.
She knew he was doing this for her... for his brother... for her family and for the city...
Not a sound.

What were the words he'd traced onto her palm, letter by letter, with his fingertip?
He couldn't even remember...

Before he could even get his bearings in his own thoughts, the git's voice rang loud and clear through his mind. Somewhere deep down he mused that he'd hoped never to remember that voice again, yet it came forth all the same.

"Why am I asking you...I guess... because I trust you enough to make it quick.. and despite your hatred of me, I still think of you as a friend... and as much as I hate to ask you to do it...I would rather a friend do it. I would rather see it coming. I want to go out on my terms.
I guess... I don't trust myself enough not to mess something up."

And then there was only blood on a door handle. A handprint, his handprint. He knew it was a dream, because he had never been so messy.... It was clean, it was perfect... It didn't make sense...

"You dream about it because it means something is out of place. Something is messy. You have a loose end somewhere and you can't stand it."

Her emerald eyes flashed through his mind and his eyes grew glassy as he stared dumbly at the arcane scroll in his hands.
The magic suddenly made no sense.

He had lost it.
__________________________________

He watched Dae approach the pale robed woman again. He looked hopeful.
Ri couldn't help but feel smug as he reflected upon earlier that day.

"Why do you do this to me?"

"What is it I've done?"

"Do you know why I.."[/i]

His sentence trailed off into nothing as the woman drew back her hood and his gaze inevitably sought her eyes.

"You're doing it again..."[/i] he said, under his breath, unable to look away.

"Doing what?"[/i]
He knew she knew.
She knew he knew that she knew.
He spoke again, their stares locked, and there was longing there.

"Tell me again that I will die if I kiss you, else you know that I will."[/i]

She moved closer to him and traced a finger along his jaw. Without consciously realising it, he leaned in closer at the touch.
Then came her perfect response on the breath of a whisper.

"If you don't kiss me, it will kill you."[/i]

Well, there's one thing you lied about...

...

Returning from his thoughts, he didn't wait to see Dae's outcome. He didn't need to.
With a last glance at the pale robed one sitting before Dae, he left for the South Gate to wait for Taure and Marie to catch up.

_________________________________

Taure paused as he continued along the road.

She'd complained she was cold before, and it was warmer here away from the snow. He noted this well when she spoke.

"Until later then?"

"If you're leaving."[/i] he nodded, but continued along the road.
He knew she paused even without turning back, because he didn't hear her footsteps walking away until a moment later.

He was certain she had been waiting for something from him. After their last "meeting" in Valkur's Roar when he had been on his way to search for the pale robed one, it only made sense.
She'd never objected to accompanying him before without giving a reason, it was warmer here than where she was heading back to, and of course.. the pause..

He found himself pondering.

[jujumojo]

Flight of the Wolves.

There she was. The coiled spring.

He knew the moment he had pushed too far.
He let the trinket slide out of his hands as she snatched it away and recoiled, not meeting his eyes.

So what now? Am I dead?

Something stirred within him. Some inquisitive, bold part of his mind that had been mostly dormant since he'd arrived.

He couldn't help but push, just that little bit further... Couldn't help but test her to see what she would do.

The words came easily in their conversation.

"You didn't see anything anyway." Tanya had said too quickly.

"Well that depends... I suppose I'm to have an 'accident' now?"

"I'm sure you didn't see anything."

Oh but he had.

"If by 'sure' you mean 'determined' because you don't want to kill me... Just how many more excuses are you going to make for me?"

He stared at her in fascination even as her eyes went cold and glassy.

It was different this time.

"Oh yes, you're right... you're so clever... learning so much..."

Her voice was like freezing silk, and he knew.
He'd pushed. Something had broken.

He didn't watch her as she left.

______________________________________

Hours later she entered the room again and studied him for a long time.

He knew she'd picked up the note he left under the door, but surely she hadn't had enough time to read it yet...

The longer she studied him, the more he felt sure that pushing her as he did would be his final mistake.

He wouldn't fight it. But all the same.... he stood and spoke softly to her as she approachd him, a tear rolling down her cheek as she reached under the folds of her garb for something...

"If you want me dead, you only have to ask."

More tears filled her eyes as he spoke the words, his gaze intent on her face. From under her robes she produced a single lily flower, which she placed on the floor at his feet before she turned away, lost... and holding back sobs.

Rimieh stared after her. And now it was his turn for something to change. The landing of a flying spring.

[jujumojo]

"And Carried It All Away..."

Rain... A slackening grip on a door handle as he fell to a blade in the back of his neck... The Stray's blade, he knew, as he'd found out later...

It subconsciously struck him as odd that he would know that now, as the Stray cut him down from behind.
It also struck him as odd, because he knew the knights had not had such an organisation about them for years... not enough to hunt him down...

He was also missing something.... A sword... One that wasn't his.
He knew it without even opening his eyes to check its scabbard.

But then, on careful realisation, he found that he wasn't wearing his scabbards.. or his coat.
His sides hurt. Why did his sides hurt? His breathing was hurting him....

There was only one explanation for it all, of course. He needed a swim.

At the time, it seemed like the sanest thought in the world...

And then he heard the healer's voice. She wasn't in the best of moods, she'd seen a lot of patients today, most likely.

"Get up. We need the bed for someone else.

He opened his eyes groggily to focus on her. She wore a firm expression that was nonetheless, obviously concerned, checking him over with a professional eye to ensure he seemed healthy enough to release.
She spoke again slowly to ensure he knew what was going on.

"You are in the healer's cottage, Greatgaunt. Go easy on your stitches, four of your ribs were sheered through, two each side, and your lungs were a mess... But we've done our best and you seem to have pulled through nicely.
You'll need more rest though, and you won't get it here with the wails of the sick. Sir, someone else has come in and is gravely wounded... we will be needing the bed now if you please."

She helped him to his feet before he'd managed to fully digest the words, ensured he had his balance enough to walk, and guided him to the door.

He stepped through like a zombie, holding onto the hand rail carefully, he made his way downstairs.
He'd been here before... but it was suddenly strange to him.

Why were his sides hurting? Where were his things?

He slowly made his way to the front door of the cottage and opened it, stepping through... half a dozen people were loosely gathered outside.

Some he knew, some he didn't, yet they all looked strange to him... He sought only one face. One pair of hazel eyes, and he couldn't find them.
For some reason that made perfect sense, but in that moment it completely baffled him. Where was she? Surely they didn't save him and leave her there...

"Rimieh!" Mithika approached him, looking worried, as did several of the others who seemed to be waiting outside the cottage.

He looked around at the crowd, sense staring him in the face, yet he could not see it. His sides hurt. His thoughts were spinning wildly down every path of his own memory and he idly wondered why it wasn't raining.

He mumbled something about resting by the fire in the inn, and wandered towards the Regal Griffon, not so much as looking at those gathered again.

He didn't even notice the neat bandages all around his middle until he lay down on the cushions gingerly in front of the fire. The light of the flames hurt his eyes, so he closed them.

Several of the others followed, but it was only Mithika he saw sit down beside him.

For the next hours, he spoke, trying to piece it together out loud.

Something about Banites, blood swirling in the water... several names... a missing sword.
None of it made any sense, but the others, more concerned for how this had happened to him than Ri would even have realised, had come to their own suspicions.

[jujumojo]

The Losing Side.

You're right...

You knew that from the start.

I did.

The spell was broken.

The memories had gradually leaked back to him during his time away.
Tanya, black eyes promising the beautiful cold edge flirting with warmth... his very being...
A name engraved on the back of a pendant.
He remembered the kiss she spoke of. That kiss - Gods.

But the spell was broken. The lies and the chaos of his past were setting in.

Red hair. Green eyes. She who was nothing but an excuse.
She who was nothing any longer but hate and sated revenge.

"What do I want...? I want to watch her pay. I will enjoy every ounce of suffering she endures, and every ounce she fails to endure. I want to break her."

The elf with silver hair. She who had given him her friendship, but only at a price.
He'd "paid". The toll of words. She meant too much to him for him not to, and yet it meant nothing.
Worse, it ruined her. The very thing he paid for was taken away by the simple fact she had asked for a price in the first place.

Lies and conscience. The honesty, the meanings..
It dawned on him quite as suddenly as the edge of the sun kissed the sky, that he had nothing.

Any semblence of conscience was worthless.
He had tried so very determinedly to keep it. But the truth - honesty, "friendship", was a complete and utter waste.

He laid back by the tree near the lake, south of Greatgaunt and stared up at the morning sky.

Taure.
If she'd told him what she did only a day before... the difference would have meant everything. But her timing - Gods, her timing.

She was his only remaining stability he'd found in another that he did not consider 'professional' in nature, it was affection and compassion and conscience - Friendship - without love... and he wanted her to know how that felt... He wanted her to know him.

She'd taken it back then, just as easily as she'd given it in the first place.

And so he was learning again where the conscience leads. Where honesty and sleeve-worn friendships ended up in the scheme of things.
Some shrinking, dying part of his mind tried to argue against the inevitable. But this time there were no arguments left.

And so he lay there by the tree, gazing up at the sky. He felt alone, empty. A pitiful sensation..
How he hated self pity.

Behind the vague stare that would have looked almost blissful to a passer-by, the dying part of his mind wept...

Wept for not being known.

Wept for meaning nothing but an ideal to the silver haired elf - the only one whom he had believed did know him.

Wept for a perfect balance between friendship, trust and affection lost - and for "Loyalty" being to blame.

Wept for sated revenge and the inevitability of Chaos.

And in the last moments before it faded beyond comprehension as he finally closed his eyes, it wept for conscience... for compassion... and for ever weeping at all.

[jujumojo]

Missing and Missing.

He'd not seen Veristan in weeks.
The last he'd seen of him, Veristan had new clothes.. he almost looked like a new person. Almost.
He'd told Rimieh he had a plan. Some purpose, that he would need him for something.
Rimieh was of half a mind he had said that deliberately, just because he knew it would give him something to wait for. Something to work towards perhaps. The sod, if that was his intention, it was working.
Just like information about Veristan himself... He recalled their last conversation in the Gnoll caves.

"If your death is to be at my hands, Mr Rimieh, I promise you I will do all within my power to make it a perfect death."

It was a promise. A powerful thing to offer, coming from Veristan, Ri knew that - like him - Veristan placed value in his own words. As such it was, strangely, the highest compliment he could imagine coming from the man.
He couldn't precisely say he 'missed' him... but the elf found himself hoping Veristan wasn't dead.

He'd not seen Taure since the start of the Siege. She'd not worn armour, but her traveling clothes. He could only guess that she had left.
The fact she'd not told him, or anyone else that he knew of, "goodbye", didn't sting as it should have.
Perhaps that's what she'd wanted all along.

Kethoth had seemed ... distracted. Which was good, Rimieh didn't have the arcane power back for his next 'lesson' yet. It was taking dangerously long for him to master his skills again. At this point, the less he had to face Kethoth, the better.

Sarduk... something strange had happened there. Rimieh wasn't sure precisely what, but the one who called himself "Gorfang" speaking from Sarduk's mouth, had claimed to be his father and have taken over his son's body. He said Sarduk was lost.
Rimieh had asked him if it was possible he'd possessed Sarduk without realising it, and the figure had said yes.
A shame, truly, if Sarduk was dead... Rimieh liked him, if just for an acquaintance with a good sense of humour.

Mithika.
"Like family"... Truer than he'd like to believe. Mithika was important to him. Uncomfortably so.
He felt compelled to give her truths where others received fragmented mentions. Real, whole truths... where he'd allow others to be subtly misled by their own lack of observation.
She was dangerous, he knew... dangerous to him. That sort of trust was poison. Worse - she lacked intelligence. She lacked intrigue, she lacked subtlety and tact, and any other reason he would befriend such a woman... there would be no circumstances he'd have ever normally allowed her to get so close.
There was a friendship there. He had no idea why and that made him uneasy, the lack of reason... yet he owed her.
She had named him, after all.

"Rimieh"... Alone seeking.

Gods, he hoped that friendship would never be tested.
She would never understand if he betrayed her. She would never understand that it might break him not to, if such a need arose.
He hoped it never would.
He hoped she would never need to understand that, just like Oenemi said during her story, rules are easier to break after you have done it once.
Like words. Like lying. Like betrayals.. like killing in cold blood.

Amywien.
Intrigue. Subtlety. Tact.
Here was a woman he had a liking for... More than that, an attraction to... But he was content for her never to know it.
The last he had seen of her, though, during the incident in Greatgaunt where Anthon had been possessed, was her walking out the door of the healer's cottage.
Later, Kale had given him a note in her handwriting...

"You wanted trust. Then there it is. A certain fifth circle arcane spell requires a small piece of onyx to cast.
If you do not see me again in a few days put your money on Purple."

It had been some days since. One more day, he told himself, and he would start searching for her.

[jujumojo]

Inviting, Challenging, and Holding One's Ground: Against Phantoms.

The world turned upside down. He could feel it in his head, though everything looked straight to his eyes.
He dropped to his knees, unable to take another step... and it consumed him. He closed his eyes as it welled up inside him.

Despair...

Someone is dying. You can't save her. She's lost.
Green eyes are killing her.

He felt sick. He could feel it all pressing in on his lungs. He could see the endless black murk all around him and feel the liquid chains binding his limbs in place as he slowly ran out of breath and saw no trace of a surface.

"So heavy..." Oenemi had called it. "Better to dance in the breeze!" She'd laughed her carefree, drugged laugh.

He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. Whichever way he struggled, there was no escape... There was no up.
All the while he could hear the waves crashing at the base of the bridge in a frenzy.

Soon he would open his eyes and he would be there again in that place that he so loathed... the ancient bridge, staring down at the writhing ocean...
But no, not this time.

He remembered this place. He remembered... he had dreamed of this before.
Except this time, no one was crying... Someone should have been crying beside him...

But no.
It was so quiet...

And just like that, 'sanity' slipped back into place and he knew the bedsheets beside him were cold because they were supposed to be.
Everything was just how it should be...

So quiet...

Rimieh woke abruptly from his reverie.

For the few moments it took his heartbeat to slow, he was certain the shadow on the wall cast by the almost-spent candle belonged to someone with a different name...

And then he remembered that he was dead.
And so was she.

The candlelight winked out. Drowned in its own wax.

[jujumojo]

"And together we sailed them all to hell on a river of blood!"

"What is your name?" He had asked her in the cave.

"Hanako." had come the reply. He'd paused and stared as the memory hit him...
Apparently he was still more mentally unstable than he'd thought.

Surely not.

Rimieh sat down by the tree and regarded the woman in the dark clothing, her face hidden beneath the shadows of her hood.

"Show me your face". It wasn't a question, but a demand.

She didn't hesitate, but pulled her hood back slowly and deliberately revealing that face that... whilst not unattractive, was far too familiar.

Rimieh: So it is you..

Hanako: I am being a bit upset with you taking so long to remember me.

Rimieh: Upset enough to follow me here..? Or are you here on business?

Hanako: It may be that I am on business, but what that business is is for my knowing only.

Rimieh: Of course, business tends to be that way here.

Hanako: And what name are they calling you here?

__________________________________________________

That night he dreamed of shattered gems, and two hands sweeping the dust slowly, painstakingly, across a dark marble floor, into a pile - where the pieces simply would not fit together ever again.

He dreamed of a rose, falling to the ground... the stem glistening with the toxic substance the moon elf had on her hand even as he grabbed her arm to wash off the poison in the nearby fountain.
Even as her eyes rolled back..

Suddenly they were no longer her eyes, but the eyes of the silver-haired elf as she'd backed away from him, shocked, afraid.

And then there was a tear.

A single tear, rolling down Hanako's cheek - it glistened in the light as it fell, her eyes far away. The cold, victorious smile came easily to his lips.

I win.

Oh yes, Hanako. You taught me some valuable lessons indeed.

[jujumojo]

Sadistic.

He opened his eyes groggily in the early morning light, just in time to see Oenemi slip quietly as she could through the door, closing it behind her.

But it was only a few moments before he lost consciousness again, exhausted, and under the effects of a strange tea she had given him to help with his troubled rest.

He dreamed again. Except this time it was not so fragmented as a dream, but a memory. Somewhere in his subconscious, he marveled at the clarity.. but he did not wake again until some hours into the next day.
___________________________________________________

He brushed the bruises on her cheek with mockingly soft fingertips as he sat beside her.

She stiffened, gripping her glass tightly in both hands.

Her emerald green eyes were vague and broken.
She had never looked so beautiful to him as she did now in her ruin.

She despised him, and he felt thirsty for it. He lapped up her hate, her hopelessness and every irony she had ever left him.
It filled him with satisfaction.

He had done that to her.

The haunted emerald eyes looked up at him as they had done so many times before.
His dark green eyes met the gaze steadily. Passive.
Cold.

"Was I really so bad?" She pleaded - though the tone was quiet and broken. Empty.

"There was a day," he replied, "when I would have done... hm, Gods know what I would have done, to prevent you from suffering.
But that day is gone now.
You took it. You spent it."

"I have nothing left." She replied.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Nothing." came the blank response. Even now, she was laced with irony.

He smirked. "It suits you. More than 'everything' ever would have."

Everything and nothing. The promise that defined her. The promise that drew him in, and pushed him away... the promise that haunted his dreams.
It was gone now. He'd given everything, and he'd stolen it away. The betrayal was perfect. The revenge was complete.

"You would be happy to know then, that it hurts."

You have no idea...

"Nothing about you was ever true. Nothing you ever did, said or promised meant anything.
Now, at last, you are finally experiencing consequences as a result of that. So yes. I am happy."

Suffer.
Suffer for me.
Do it.
________________________________________________

He woke groggily, with the vague, haunting melody of Oenemi's silvery-voiced flute dancing through his mind like fire.

[jujumojo]

S.I.W.

"Soothing sky
Take my sight away and divert it with vast beauty.
Dying sunlight
Let me go softly that I may not notice you leave.
Refreshing breeze
Carry me away from here and cage me without bars.

Day's Edge -
Embrace me.
Memories -
Find me."

The words swirled through his mind as he gazed up at the endless sky painted with a rich sunset.

So this is what Solace felt like.
Solace. More bitter than what he would have liked, but it sufficed.

Perhaps this was the closest he would ever come again to true grief... perhaps he had been closer, and now it was over.

Intrigue... intrigue is eternal.

Wind... doesn't ask, it takes.

Ah, he remembered when he had the self assured confidence to take. Not so very long ago... And yet now, was Hanako really the only one who could inspire such confidence in him again?

Power games. Just what he needed... and something softer in the distance. Intangible as a breeze.

Wind. There was one way to catch the wind. And it wasn't by chasing it or being carried along, but to meet with it. A tangent breath. A dance with the breeze, that may or may not ever come...
But wind doesn't ask, it takes.

He closed his eyes as the dusk blanketed the lands around him.

Change -
Take me.

The silver haired elf comforted the one who cried in his dreams, and all was quiet.
Then Oenemi's flute played for him again.

[jujumojo]

The Brittle Return

Upon arriving back in Valkur's Roar after keeping quite some time to himself in the quiet of the woods, she came to him and asked to speak.

"I will not bend" Tarithel had said. Small words from a meek, naive girl... Or not so much...
Small words perhaps, but powerful. He liked them - except for their obvious flaw.

"If you will not bend, you will break like the brittleness of innocence that you are."

Hanako and her shattering - if only the others understood... but of course, they had not known her. They did not have the insights Ri had, and perhaps it was better for everyone that way.

Ignorance is bliss.

If bliss was anything like Solace - then it was no wonder his nature was so curious.
Ignorance would never be good enough. Only knowledge and intention.
Accidents were for the innocent, for the naive, and the brittle.

It was strange that Tarithel seemed to resent the things Rimieh would choose - had chosen, over death.
Pain passes. Torture passes. Regrets pass.
Death is forever.
And yet, it was even stranger that in some small, meek way, she was right.

How wise she was. How innocent.. how foolish.
He was impressed.

He hoped death would not wrap it's dirty, wasteful hands around that one's pretty little neck... he hoped, and yet he knew that it was all a lie.

She would bend. She would succumb to whatever vices tormented her. They all did in the end.
And still, there was an art in those tiny, defiant words.
He could not help but find them beautiful.

"I will not bend."

[jujumojo]

Dance With Me.

"Just ... stop, Rimieh...

Stop."

He fell quiet, watching her hands, her fingers tense by her sides in the clover patch.

She took a deep breath.

"What do you wish ..? For yourself..?"

There was a tiny strain to her usually so easygoing voice. But for once, he didn't notice.

The question swelled in his mind, and he let it. There was no expectation there, on that voice. And so the question did not tear itself to pieces. And he thought clearly.

"What do you wish for yourself?"
. . .
__________________________________________________

Distraction... Over the years the word had become such a welcome comfort to him. An old friend, tattooed heavily with the imperfections and bad habits only age can bring.

She with the green eyes had been one such distraction to him not so very long ago.

"What are you thinking?"

You don't know what you're asking...

His thoughts were a smoke screen of distractions.

It was better that way, it was a strength.
Sharp light makes a deadly contrast with the shadows that lurk behind everything of significance.
Better to leave it vague, misted over.

Better to feel it there safely in the distance, while more tangible moments of beauty danced before your eyes.

"Nothing."
Everything.

___________________________________________________


"We are broken creatures living an empty existence, you and I. How do you find purpose in an empty life?"

He saw himself in the one by the fire with him that night. In far too many ways, he saw himself.

And yet he found himself hating the elf for the words he spoke.
For in that mirror, he saw how much more he had become in those years.

He saw the pain in the one he had almost automatically come to think of as his "brother". Yet he also saw his strength. He had possessed that same strength himself in the end. Some part of him should have been... sympathetic.

But no. He seethed at the elf's pain. He hated the fact that, once, he had looked exactly the same - except that no eyes had been there to see him.

He clapped a hand on the elf's shoulder, and even in his quiet as he listened intently to every word of his companion's story, he made a silent promise.

"You are such a waste, Siriandur. You can be stronger. You can be better than this. I have seen it in you.
I'm going to make sure it happens. I am going to piece you back together."

____________________________________________________


. . . It was several moments before he whispered again, his gaze shifting somewhere between focused and far away.

"I wish that I had the strength to let go of the past. And yet I fear more than anything else that I don't."

Her following embrace was warm, but laced with tears, and Rimieh found himself glad, if a little surprised, that he still had words to offer at all before she left, even after having watched her own past repeat itself...

And then, all he could think about was that invitation to dance with the wind.

Wind flies, and Fate loves Irony.

... It was almost as though she knew ...
And he found himself hoping that she did.

[jujumojo]

//Please note this post contains some violence//

The Upper Hand.

"You're mine." She had said, squeezing the hand of the one who didn't speak.

Vivid emerald eyes locked defiantly onto those dark green orbs that stared back at her in innocent wonder.

It was a command. It was a challenge.

"Wind flies." He'd whispered to her as he pulled away......


..... She drew her blades on him on the hill as the two faced each other, the sun elf and the red haired human woman. The slave.

They locked into battle again, the sound of ringing steel echoing about them through the stormy field.

She got too close. She was too slow.

His ankle twisted around hers abruptly and he shoved her back to fall onto the ground. She fell back hard and lost her breath.

Both his blades came down to pin her savagely through her shoulders, holding her in place in the mud and the wet grass as her scream of pain pierced the sound of the pouring rain and echoed through the field.

The scream died to an agonised whimper.
His whisper came, cold, smug and certain to her ears.
Her expression of shock twisted to a wild grin at the word....

"Mine."
I win.

He yanked his blades out and turned away, ignoring her cries and leaving the emerald-eyed woman to bleed in the rain.

____________________________________________________


He opened his eyes slowly, and turned his head to note her still beside him in the first traces of the dawn light.

A demand promised, given and met.

One broken promise that meant everything.
And a new one that meant nothing.

.... And a gift, an unconditional, precious gift, that meant neither... and yet here it was before his eyes.

Something.

A gift, unconditionally given, not to be returned lest it was meant.

Not something he could hope to repay - not yet - but something he could promise to want.

Gods, how he wanted it.

It was so, so wrong.
And yet appreciation had never felt this good.

[jujumojo]

Investments.

It was all a warrior's defense.

The isolation of the elves, apparently endorsed by the Wardens, and one whom Rimieh had heard referred to as "The Banite", defense.

The paranoia of the people, the quickness to jump behind the statement "It's none of your business" - defense.

Even the inactivity of some of those who he knew might otherwise be up to no good, defense.

He doubted half of these people even knew, truly, what it was they seemed so afraid of.

Then, of course, there were the matters questionably closer to the heart.

Let them do as they please.

It was strange, yet so fitting that the knight should be the one to help guide him back towards his path. But then, in a way... they were the same. It disgusted him.

No more exceptions.

Let the knight "try". He wouldn't try, he would do.
Just as it had always been...

The training was defense, he knew. And yet it was more than that. It felt good.

Soon the time would be upon him to seek out Kethoth.

He could feel his weaving improving day by day, and his body gradually showed the signs of honing itself in response to the relentless training he put himself to.
He could feel the renewed strength in his aching muscles, even when the sun or raining sky faded as the days ended and he took his rest.

For days on end he remained away from the towns. Away from the people. Alone... with the bound imp he'd grown quite accustomed to, and his own thoughts.

Sometimes he wasn't sure which was which.

[jujumojo]

Continual Cruel Hope

The days continued on much as they had been.

Training. Exploring. More training. Making camp. Eating. Studying. Resting. Putting books away to train again.

Occasionally he would come across a beast or monster too dangerous and be forced to run or be killed.

Occasionally, he would run out of supplies, or find himself injured and in need of a return to the nearest town.

And occasionally, he just passed through.

But mostly, it continued. And of course... the distraction felt good.

Distraction always did.

Whether he was training for the skills to save "her", (if indeed she could be saved at all), or training for the opportunity away to think over the meaning and value of such a price was yet to be seen.

[jujumojo]

"I had to see you."

".. Don't do this..." He whispered. So close, so soft.

The rain peppered down in subtle relentlessness as the two embraced tightly in drenched clothes from the oh-so-short hours spent exactly where they were.

Long moments passed. Precious moments, they both knew, and yet it seemed to Rimieh that the two were denying time, defying it even as they remained embracing on the top of the ridge in the rain.

"This is folly. Don't do this... You might be willing to sacrifice your life for this cause but -I- am not.... Don't walk in blindly to what could be such an obvious gods-damned trap... Wait... learn more... Don't do this...

... Don't..."

The words barely audible as he pleaded the demands of her.

Mouse. He needed to talk to Mouse, and Glenduil, if he could find him.. and anyone else who could tell him of this "Cassius" and his intentions.

But there was so little time, such precious few moments.
Cassius had demanded her. No other, just her...

She's not yours. She's mine.

There was no time. There were too few places to start, too few places to look, to wait.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" Came her tiny reply.

No answers. No reassurances, for there were none to give.
No promises.

Such folly, no preparation. No plan. No clue... Who were 'they' who would subject her to that? The hate welled within him to quell that growing fear. Both emotions battled until those small, escaping moments won over and all he knew was her.

Gods, is this how I made you feel, knight? Sorry, friend.

[jujumojo]

The Making of Reasons.

Water and Wind.

Both could bring life and devastation.

Both made their own paths:
Wind - forever wavering and creating new paths untrodden. Never faltering. Never to be caught or caged.
Water - forging deep paths to be walked again and again, as it had always been, creating the new only as truly required, and yet bringing about newness in so many things on its way.

"Water is a liar."

And then there was rain.
Water carried through the sky upon the breeze itself. Both tending to everything required of them in effortless perfection.

"A blessing".

Not that he needed one in the face of perfection.

__________________________________________________

He sat on the floor all night, leaning against the hard door. As ever, he made the uncomfortable position look almost luxurious as he sat for the long hours, not resting, only watching. Thinking.

It was different this time, for there was clarity. The certainty that was gone - he wondered how it could have returned to him as it had, though he suspected Isabel held the answer. She who was neither strength nor weakness to him.
She who smiled often and was far too wise, far too perceptive for her years - and yet offered unconditional trust to a killer she had barely met.
He could see why Riell loved her as a sister.

Veristan was looking for him. A strange notion, as the devout had rarely, if ever, sought Rimieh out in particular. Not to mention he'd been, yet again, gone for months - Ri was beyond assuming the man dead or alive these days.
There was only one way to find out what it meant beyond his speculations.

Veristan was not the only one returned, it seemed, for in Suzail he had encountered Kethoth at long last.
He was to leave word when he wished his next lesson. It would be soon.

Then, of course, there was his decision to help Cassius in whatever way he could. An important decision, for practicality's sake - sympathy be damned.

Cassius needed forgiveness, he needed to be known. He needed not the wasteful, meaningless emotion of sorrow on behalf of another. Whether knowing him would accomplish anything was yet to be told. Perhaps it was indeed only the desperate wants of a desperate man.

And perhaps even then, it was only the want for what did not belong to him, but Rimieh, whether Cassius knew it or not.

And behind it all, an option between a price and a sacrifice.

Baby-blue eyes met his as a soft hand touched his cheek and the voice of mysteries whispered to him.

"Memories are the making of reasons."

"How do I un-make a reason then?"

"You see the memory in a moredifferent way."


This then, was a test.

The determination felt so familiar to him, it felt good, even as the thought struck him without question, that he was ready.

"Strength intended. Weakness imparted. Strength that was ever stronger than that."

The soft sounds of breathing and the dying embers of the fire were the music behind his thoughts until day broke.

[jujumojo]

Reprieve.

It was late by the time he approached the figure resting almost out of sight, concealed by a tree and the edge of a cliff that towered over her.

Without a word, he settled in close beside her - she, who only acknowledged his presence by resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him as he did so.

He hadn't asked.

She'd wanted to tell him more, but he hadn't asked.

For all of him that wanted to know, some tiny part was happier in ignorance. But he scolded himself for it now in those small hours before reverie took hold and curiosity pined.

All the hopelessness in others these past few days was wearing on him. It was exhausting dealing with those so, so weak. And yet.. she wasn't like that.
She had perhaps, more right to be so than any of the others... but she wasn't like that.

He would ask her tomorrow.
There was always tomorrow...

[jujumojo]

Loyalty's Patience.

It was time.

A debt long owed to his god, and this one, final test would see it repaid in full, with a surplus.

"Suck it up."

The final, cold-handled trigger.
Words he'd, perhaps, long needed to hear...
Or had too-long avoided.

All the greater the worth of the feast, set upon the table... and now, at long last, to be consumed.

The ultimate cure. The ultimate strength.

Veristan. Now blind, but soon he would understand. Oh yes.
He was the only one who could.

The solitary elf sat atop the ridge in Eveningstar long through the remainder of the day and into the night.

The touch of the snow comforted and pained him, and in the long hours before dawn broke, Hanako's purring chuckle filled his mind...

...along with one, single word.

This time he liked it.

[jujumojo]

"Don't Follow Me".

He lay very still, losing consciousness. His own bleeding was steady and ruthless, yearning to accompany the blood of those who had done this to him - those who were close.

Damn them forever.

Final thoughts strayed ever closer to the dancer shadowed by water in the raining sky.
Perfection, fragile. Danced with but never touched. Sought, desired and taken for granted in a lingering moment of acceptance.

And then there were the culprits:
The forest walker who had brought this upon him from the very beginning.

She with the truth on her tongue and the foolish brilliance of youth contained within a mind sharp as peril. Claimed, for now, by innocence and forever by human impulse.

The devout. So highly trusted above others for reasons which made absolute sense if one didn't "feel".

The Maze of speechless intrigue. The woman of walls and defenses shrouding nothing at all but that word itself.
"Don't follow me." and "I am."
"It's too late." and "I remember.

A whisper, breathless, somewhere in between... Those words that were so much stronger than "I love you."
- "You are perfect."

A web beyond. A myriad of eyes, dark hazel and golden. Opposing weights on a flawless scale now abused.
The dark eyes behind a mask of intoxicating deceit.
Golden cat-like eyes of proud, innocent truth.

The promise of the moth to the spider: "One mistake, and you are dead."
Irony decayed the silk-dust from its wings, and Rimieh's mind meandered into dying eyes and light fading as the crimson deserted his warmth, choking him tenderly with the lingering taste of metal.

He wished only to see those eyes once more.
This manner of dying paled in comparison to her sorrow of bitter cold, and silver floating ice.

...And then Mithika snapped the arrow shafts driven through his neck.

He bled living blood. He was not gone yet.
Through the power of a spell, the dying one was wrenched back into consciousness.

Too close. Damn them all forever, they were too close.

Don't touch me.

[jujumojo]

Tattooed words

The leather bound book looked well kept. Moderately priced - a short way off expensive perhaps.

Two things deprived it of its newness.

The faintest evidence of the first page having been carefully removed, and the new first page - and only the first page - having been written on, in a flowing, slanted hand.

The lettering of this first entry was elven.
But the words were of the common tongue.
____________________________________________________
"I had only ever written half a page in this book, that was before it was torn out and I fed it to the flame of a candle near-spent.

That half of a page was written not for him - not for my brother. He was worthy of no words written or said in his short life, or the words gifted in his eternal, godless sleep.
That half of a page was not written for myself either, but for the visions of crimson handprints and dying pleas. For she who understood all and knew nothing. She with eyes like a doll. Made and broken by mercy. Seduced by monsters.

Today, the second occasion I have recorded anything of a personal nature; today I will not write for That evil which is remorse.

The written word is a thing of true power.
By penning these very words, I give them substance, and what substance should emotion have but the very moment within which it is felt?

I shall choose carefully. And even so I am certain that these words, too, will one day meet the flame which will drive their power from over me.
Logic has a need to recognise emotion, and the only way to truly know emotion is to feel it.
But emotion granted too much substance will only end in ruin.
Therein lies power.
Therein lies weakness.
A tool, a hindrance, a marvel and a masterwork of irony.

She knew what I would have taken from her.

Let logic whisper that she was wrong.
Reason is a perfect liar.

And so am I.

- R.E. "
____________________________________________________

[jujumojo]

He writes again in the days that follow:

"Fire, Ice and Water.
Not one message, but a thousand.

Two opposites, both so intense, both of them beautiful and destructive. Neither can touch the other and survive.

But water; it quenches fire and dissolves ice. Water takes, and is what is become.
But it too can bend to paths - paths of perfect sense, paths made where required, cut deeply so that they are traveled over again.

Freeze the water, and it will yield to the touch of ice.
Burn water with the touch of fire and it will fly, taken by the wind.

But always it remains.

And always its paths will wait, or it will create them again as deeply as times gone. Such is its nature.

The lies told so completely with rippling truth. The grey. The "something".

There is an insolent knave holding a priceless worth, mirroring Fate in one hand with the Irony in the other.
His feet poise in perfect balance upon an edge, sharp as starlight.
The strength of that balance breathes defiant mockery into both, and water's laughter prevails.

Thus does he stand, creating a flawless scale of two nimble hands, two jewels, one in each; a blade of silver ripples and two strong feet...

... Two feet who bleed from their entrenched cuts into the sea whose tongue convinces eyes that blood is blue and harmless,

Love is red.

And the two of diamonds belongs to the knave of hearts.

- R.E."

[jujumojo]

Cruel Kindness

"It was not my place and yet I followed her anyway. 
There was a reason, she said, that the Gods would give such signs for us both to see.
 
The unicorn's touch brought such blissful joy to her face, and yet to me it brought only a trace of the same pain and uncertainty as that thing I had once stolen, the thing which is the sole reason I am here and the sole reason I had ever fallen again to such weakness. I hate it Forever.
It was cruel of the beast to touch me at all.
 
The reminders linger, and where light would beckon, shadows lurk and chase in its wake. I know them.

Transparency. Spoken of by Alindariel, words matched by the strange silvery-white creature more perfectly than Oenemi could have known. Transparent water is of the type to be consumed.

In the face of such Gods, and perfection, I could think of worse fates. Alindariel was right about many more things than she meant to be.
Yet, in the face of that evil none of them seem able to see *the thought trails off unfinished, or finished but un-penned*

That agony will not find me again. 
It is too late.

- R.E."