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--- sessions:worldbuilding:2020-04-25 [2022/07/16 20:42] – Stuff from the past year or so! pinkgothic
+++ sessions:worldbuilding:2020-04-25 [2023/09/18 15:05] (current) – external edit 127.0.0.1
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 There was a sudden turn of Ferleth's arm, and a brief but unpleasant roar of flame, which sputtered out after a moment; but Zadireth, who had clearly been prepared for something like this, muttered from near ground level where he'd dropped, "I really wish you wouldn't //do// that."
-Ferleth gently sank to the ground, sobbing. The elderly male started forward as if to help Zadireth, then looked at him, then up at Demarath and Ilirith. He stared at each of them in turn, not obviously hostile, but still very nervous. "W-witches? Do you know Ferleth from somewhere?"}}
+Ferleth gently sank to the ground, sobbing. The elderly male started forward as if to help Zadireth, then looked at him, then up at Demarath and Ilirith. He stared at each of them in turn, not obviously hostile, but still very nervous. "W-witches? Do you know Ferleth from somewhere?"
+Ferleth's - evidently entirely unplanned - attack had come too quickly for Ilirith to attempt to stop it, but at some point before its end had stretched out a hand toward her in the manner of one about to attempt some restraint. That Ferleth now appeared to be nonthreatening was not persuading her to abandon this stance.
+Ilirith muttered, without taking her eyes off her target, "Not in the least. We just met."}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Some part of Demarath considered approaching Ferleth to lay a reassuring hand on her, but it was obviously a poor idea given the state she was in. Instead, he made his way, curious, to the tent, wondering if something could be done for the little ones that would soothe Ferleth and keep them safe from her at the same time, cautious in his approach, keeping an eye on Ferleth as he moved.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|There were, alongside a basic sleeping mat, a pair of largish baskets. In one of them, placed amid bits of blankets and rags, were a trio of hatchlings. They looked frightened, though now that things were currently quiet seemed to be quieting down themselves somewhat; they peered at Demarath in bewilderment.
+The other basket contained a heap of decaying vegetation, mostly moss and leaves, but the purpose of it was explained by the small area of eggshell visible through a gap. It was nothing like the nesting material his mother had used for her own eggs; but then, his mother might well have been able to afford to swaddle them in cloth of gold if she'd really felt like it. Presumably this was the commoner way of doing it.
+Over his shoulder, the old man murmured, "This wasn't the kind of place for children, really. But I wasn't going to be able to sneak them out of camp without getting caught."}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Demarath crouched carefully beside the basket with the hatchlings, smiling gently. "Hello," he said to them, warmly. "Everything's all right, I think," he added, reaching gently toward them with the back of one forepaw, to let them investigate a part of this stranger that had come into their tent. He wasn't altogether //sure// that everything was all right now, but it didn't feel to him as though he were lying, either.
+To the old man, he asked, his tone gentle: "Do you have any plans what to do with them?"}}
+{{wst>shyriath|The hatchlings sniffed his paw cautiously, one of them licking it - whether as a gesture of bonding or simple investigation for taste was unclear - and, together with the sound of his voice, it seemed to soothe them. There was that, at least; he'd spent enough time around younger siblings to have an idea of how to talk to children.
+The old man glanced back. "I suppose I'm not the one to ask-" he began, but was cut off by Ferleth's voice; it was low enough that it did not disturb the children, but dripping with misery and bitterness.
+"Don't you involve me in this, Librith," she croaked. "It's nothing to do with me."
+"Ferleth," Librith replied in a wheedling tone, "That's not really the case-"
+"Yes it is. I didn't ask for them. I didn't want them. I didn't get a choice about them. They're not mine. You've been looking after them; they're yours." At no point from where she was curled up on the ground did Ferleth look up at him.
+Librith shook his head in defeat. "If I can find a settlement nearby, maybe... but if they grow up to be witches, they won't be safe."}}
+{{wst>pinkgothid|Demarath was gradually sticking his paws into the basket, gently touching fingers to the hatchlings as it seemed safe to do so. His attention still mostly on the little ones, he thought out loud: "Maybe we could take the little ones with us?"
+His uncertainty about it was clear in the tone of his voice - he imagined it was perhaps doable, but the journey was already //interesting// enough without three babies to deal with.
+Still, it seemed as though the fathers had abandoned the babies, the mother didn't want them, and the caretaker doubted his ability to keep them safe. Maybe they wouldn't do any worse than that.}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Demarath was gradually sticking his paws into the basket, gently touching fingers to the hatchlings as it seemed safe to do so. His attention still mostly on the little ones, he thought out loud: "Maybe we could take the little ones with us?"
+His uncertainty about it was clear in the tone of his voice - he imagined it was perhaps doable, but the journey was already //interesting// enough without three babies to deal with.
+Still, it seemed as though the fathers had abandoned the babies, the mother didn't want them, and the caretaker doubted his ability to keep them safe. Maybe they wouldn't do any worse than that.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|Zadireth, peering into the tent, gave the babies a speculative look, but replied to Demarath in a matter-of-fact tone. "No - there's a long way to go, and too many risks on the way. They're not likely to survive the trip into the mountains at that age - and, on top of everything else," he added, "they wouldn't be allowed in."
+"In?" asked Librith. Zadireth treated him to a grin that, friendly as it appeared on the surface, was rather unnerving. "Our destination really shouldn't be discussed with those who are not Chosen - witches, as you would say. ...No, I fear we must leave you to do the best you can with them. If any turn out to be Chosen, then with any luck one of us shall find them and take them to safety some day."}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|"Is there any way we could tell now?" Demarath wondered aloud, running fingers along the little ones' heads. Just because //he// didn't know of a way didn't mean there was none - and Zadireth, having had interactions with the Citadel before, might know about such things.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|"If the mothers and fathers of a child are all Chosen, the children will also be Chosen," Zadireth said, apparently losing interest in hatchlings in the tent, "but otherwise, no - not until they are older."
+"What does it matter?" Ilirith said, finally relaxing slightly. Ferleth seemed too occupied with her own problems to be hostile at the moment, though she was directing a tearful glare into the tent. "They're too young to be a threat in any case!"
+"The Unchosen are not allowed in," Zadireth replied absently; he was now looking at Ferleth once again. "Even family members. Even by accident. Were we to bring them and any turned out //not// to be Chosen... no, they cannot come along. That said," he added, addressing Ferleth, "it does mean that, were you to come with us, they would be far away from //you//..."
+Ferleth turned her glare on Zadireth, but this time, at last, there was a hint of thoughtful uncertainty in her expression, if not actual temptation.}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Demarath was still touching the hatchlings, which wasn't helping him form an emotional distance. The idea of just leaving them here felt //wrong//. His brain was crunching the proverbial numbers, trying to solve the problem for x. The notion that dragons would not be allowed in if they were not witches bothered him; he could understand not wanting someone who had grown up in 'normal' takmar culture in the settlement, but these little ones had barely formed opinions about anyone yet!
+If he at all thought the journey was safe, he would have risked a fight with Zadireth and insisted on bringing them. Fortunately, he didn't think so, and so he didn't raise a fuss, intellectually rejecting his second-hand parental urge.
+Reluctantly, he pulled back from the little ones, silent.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|Librith seemed to be absorbing the fact that no one was going to help him be a father to a brood that, very likely, would contain at least some witches. "Is there //nothing// I can do?" he asked, plaintively, as Zadireth held Ferleth's gaze.
+"That depends on what way you mean," Zadireth replied. Then a faintly annoyed expression crossed his face, and he sighed. "There is one possibility," he added. "I hear there's a city across the sea where they don't mind Chosen being around - Aadihash, or something like that. Assuming its neighbors don't get around to conquering it, it might be a safe place for the hatchlings to grow up... but we're going in the opposite direction, so you'll have to make it there on your own, I fear. If nothing else, they're too young for anyone to guess about witchcraft yet, so no one should stop you on that account."
+Ferleth gave the interior of the tent, and the children, a brief glance, and there was, very briefly and very faintly, something like regret there, but it hardened quickly, and she rasped, "//If// I'm going to go with you, then let's get going." Zadireth nodded, turned, and motioned for the others to follow.}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Demarath dithered for a moment, realising there was another option: He could accompany Librith to this 'Aadihash' place. It wasn't a //good// option - it would separate him from Ilirith, for one, which he'd rather not, and from Zadireth's choice of wording, their current destination was a safer sanctuary than the strange city.
+The only reasons for changing direction would be indulging the second-hand parental urge he'd already told himself he'd dismissed... and curiosity about the alternative.
+He followed after Zadireth.
+After a few steps, still technically in hearing range of Librith and with no particular interest in hiding the conversation from the takma, Demarath asked: "So, why //are// we going into the opposite direction?" He didn't pause quite long enough to let anyone answer immediately, instead amending: "I guess what I'm trying to say is that it seems... odd, maybe, that the two witch-friendly places would be so far apart."
+He was having trouble putting an articulable finger on what he meant - but from Zadireth's short description, Aadihash sounded to him like a potential ally, and it might be in the Citadel's interest to have at least some cautiously covert communications with it.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|Zadireth mused that it was always tricky, mentioning the distant city.
+In fact, Dlyss had rather specifically told him not to do so in front of other Chosen, and as in most things, he preferred to humor her wishes. But Dlyss had given him any number of instructions, and it was only possible to obey them all when they weren't mutually exclusive. Given the choice of preserving possible Chosen lives, he believed he'd picked the more important directive.
+Of course, the price was having to explain the situation to the curious, while trying to limit them to what they needed to know.
+He rather deliberately waited to respond until they were somewhat further from earshot, before saying in a low voice, "The two places have nothing to do with each other besides a concentration of Chosen; they are... independent developments, and share no history.
+"I am told that Aadihash is a relatively recent city; the Citadel, by contrast, has existed in some form since at least the days of the Empire." Zadireth shrugged. "You can ask Oghwess about it when we stop at the refuge, if you're interested; she's a bit more acquainted with the history of the Citadel than I am."}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Demarath was, by quite many a measure, somewhat naive in his dealings with other takmar, having spent much of his life as a refrigerator, but something about Zadireth's answer made him identify it as a dodge. //Something// was being kept from the narrative.
+His scepticism was likely visible in his body language - he had made no effort to hide his emotions - but he did not press the matter, instead simply quietly filing away that his friendly guide might not be as friendly as assumed. It was only a small mark, the kind you might place on someone if you caught them on an almost inconsequential but obvious lie, but after the recent fight had done much to emotionally bind them together, it was the first thing to set them apart.
+Silent, accepting that it was all he was likely going to learn, he focussed instead on the journey ahead of them, letting his attention be consumed by the newest addition to their strange crew - Ferleth.
+She didn't give an impression of being interested in conversation for the time being. There was clearly a long history that needed to be digested, consequences that needed to be properly accepted, neither of which would accelerate if they spoke to her, but he started to form questions in mind - some easier to ask, others harder - that he might ask of her a little later, when she looked less lonely.
+That was what she looked like. Lonely. She was travelling with them, but it seemed rather like a physical thing, an automation.
+Given what she'd been through, it was perhaps not surprising that she didn't want emotional contact with much of anyone.
+The whole gamut of adrenaline, excitement and stress finally started to deconstruct in Demarath's body as he moved, dissipating out through his moving limbs. The motion helped. Slowly, the pent up tension gave way to a confused tiredness.
+What had just happened?
+It felt eerie, as though it were a story of someone else's adventure. He ran the battle and the negotiation with Ferleth and Librith through his mind's eye, but he didn't recognise himself in the scenes.
+A trace of Ferleth's stubborn loneliness infected him. He was far away from home. Although it had surely saved his life, he was running from some kind of definition of justice that he'd grown up with. Something expected. Something that was, to some degree, predictable. The battle had not been predictable. Ferleth had not been predictable. The change was exhilerating, but there had been so much, all at once, and for a few minutes, he felt afloat in some alternate universe.}}