agentlelog | walking in a field of fog

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walking in a field of fog

Who: You and Fayura
When: Today, a week after the Strangers' arrivals
Where: The Queen's Residence and the Old Town Bazaar
What: Q&A
Warnings: n/a

EARLY MORNING, THE QUEEN'S RESIDENCE
The morning is cold and dark. Inhaling the frigid air is so shocking that those who aren't expecting it cough and wheeze with their first breath. No one really wants to make their way to the training field. Even the Queen's court moves sluggishly, but move they do with muttered recriminations against Allairavar. Cold weather doesn't stop training.

A warming spell around the field keeps it warm enough to practice, and bobbling witchlights and steady e-line floodlights keep the darkness at bay. All along one side of the practice area are weapons with blades live and dulled. The court eases onto the field alongside the Strangers with sighs and grumbles aplenty. No one likes practice on chilly mornings, but they like Allairavar's retaliation against tardiness even less.

Everyone has paired off by the time Allairavar strides out of the manor home with his arm around a woman's shoulders. In the harsh e-line lights and softer witchlight, it's clear she hasn't been well and still isn't entirely healed. Sunken golden eyes scan the field, and her expression is vaguely nauseated. She trembles, either from weakness or discomfort, as Allairavar pulls away and calls in two bladed sticks—weapons caught somewhere between sword and ax.

"Let's go," he tells her, and she takes one stick from his hand as court and Strangers alike look on.

Another male follows them in, sleekly predatory in his slow prowl around the practice field. A dangerous look glazes his eyes, and he circles the whole field once before making a second, tighter pass around the marked off area where Allairavar and the woman square off.

Members of the court trade wary looks, sharing them with the Strangers. More than a few murmur things like, "Verim will go for his throat if he pushes her too hard," and, "Should she even be out of bed yet?"

It seems Allairavar's rule for training is absolute. Even the Queen takes part. Under his watchful eye and tutelage, they run through a warm up that clearly exhausts her, but when he asks if they should stop, she snarls at him and pushes on for another five minutes. Only then does she sit off to the side of the field and begin stretching.

As she lifts from a leg stretch, she catches your eye and offers a small, shy smile. "Would you like to stretch with me? Allairavar's workouts are always hardest the first day back," she says softly.

Allairavar's exercises may be hard, but she looks like she's seconds from collapsing from exhaustion. If she spent this last week resting and still looks so wan and thin and weak, her initial injuries must have been severe.

MID-AFTERNOON, THE BAZAAR PAVILION
Snow drifts lazily through frigid air. Though temperatures hover around freezing, the Old Town Bazaar bustles with activity. Slowly, people rebuild homes and shops burned by the Hunter Guild, and for perhaps the first time in the past fifty years, sentiment has turned against the Hunters.

Strangers out and about in the Bazaar hear:

A landen woman, to her friend: It's not right what the Hunters did, burning down our homes, too.

A well-to-do Blood male, at a food stall: …believe what that pompous Grand Master has to say about a Queen of the Blood.

There's some commotion toward the center of the Bazaar, where the Queen has settled at the pavilion with a group of landen and Blood children. Her only guard seems to be the elegant man seated across from her at the pavilion's wooden table, his eyes watchful as the people pass by.

The Queen herself looks unwell. Though she wears a bright smile and her golden eyes glitter with laughter, they are sunken and dark smudges circle them. Her arms are thin, little more than skin wrapped around bone. In spite of the freezing weather, she wears a tunic with wide sleeves that pool around her elbows as she holds up a small plank of wood and tugs at a ribbon embedded in it. Here, in the chilly winter morning, the woman who brought some twenty Strangers across the vast distances of many worlds looks very human, very mortal, and very fragile.

Her eyes meet yours as she looks up, and you feel a gentle brush against your mind. No matter how familiar or strange mental communication is, no matter how disconcerting or easy you find it, the touch strikes you as incredibly polite. *We can talk, if you'd like,* she tells you over a psychic thread.

Should you join her, you find respite from the cold. A warming spell makes the pavilion pleasantly toasty, explaining why no one wears a jacket and, maybe, the Queen's clothes. She's dressed plainly in a loose, knitted tunic and fitted breaches. She wears no coronet and no visible jewelry except for a golden chain that tucks beneath her tunic.

Fayura offers a quick smile in your direction as she guides the end of the ribbon in her hand through the thin strip of wood in a twisting loop. She offers a soft-spoken explanation to the children before inviting them to try—and inviting the Blood to explain the magic to the landens, too.

As the children turn to their task, Fayura turns to you. "I'm glad to see you made it through the Hunters' attack relatively unscathed." She sets her plank down and taps her mug. Steam beings to rise from it and she lifts it to her lips with a sigh. "And I apologize that I wasn't there to greet you." A wry smile tugs at her lips; her appearance is, in her mind, enough of an explanation for why. "How have you found Draega?"

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[ Laughter isn't the response he had been expecting, so he's a bit caught off-guard when she reacts the way she does.

He turns his gaze away when she speaks again, eyes searching for and landing on Allairavar when the Queen mentions him by name. He's reminded of the conversation he had overheard, back when he'd first arrived in Draega and after he'd found a gun in his face.

The same choice... Her men had spoken about this, too. Haein hadn't been able to catch the entirety of the conversation, distracted by Davina near the tail end, but what he does remember, he brings up almost too casually. ]

Would you strand us here?

No.

[Her reply is both simple and immediate, backed by firm conviction.]

I would not bring people to a dying land if I didn't believe I could also send them back.

[The trick to this is, of course, that just because she can work the Craft doesn't mean she'll survive it. Convincing her Princes and court that she can send the Strangers home will certainly take time.

She sighs, easing out of her stretches and into a more comfortable position.]

Quite frankly, nothing about that spell should have hit me quite so hard. The backlash... [She shakes her head and runs a trembling hand through her hair.] I'm not sure why it was so strong. It shouldn't have been.

[ It's an answer that should bring him some measure of reassurance, but Haein remains silently doubtful. He's never really been for trusting others, and considering the fact that he wouldn't hesitate to strand these people if he were put in a similar position, it's hard for him to wrap his brain around being so noble.

The most recent betrayal in his life has done a number on him.

Still, he listens quietly as the Queen continues speaking, taking notice of the tremble in her hand. Now that she mentions it, he's starting to feel curious about the level of backlash as well. ]

Is this something you've done before?

[Fay shakes her head.]

It's powerful Craft. The web I wove... [Her brows draw together, and then she rises onto her knees, shifting to kneel at his side. In the dirt around them, made soft by the warming spell in spite of winter's chill, she sketches out the basic design of the tangled web she wove.

Many tether threads extending from a single point. A single thread that starts in one corner and spirals slowly into the middle of the web. She rubs out a large circle in the middle, tapping it.] My Jewel and a drop of blood to power the spell. A wish offered with blood is a prayer to the Darkness. [She says this wryly, as though the words are somehow ironic when they come from her, and then begins drawing more tether lines from the spiral to the outside of the web.] These ancillary strands were designed to pull off power from the spiral and force it out of the web.

[She taps the center again.] If the power I put into the web at the start reached my Jewel, I would have shattered it. [Her tone is grim.] These ancillary strands should have been enough to prevent a backlash, but... [A grimace flashes across her face as she sits back and turns to him.] Let's just say that after working my Craft, I had much more in common with pulpy orange juice than a person.

[ Haein tenses when she kneels next to him, but quickly shifts his attention to the sketch she begins on the ground. He watches, fascinated with her explanation as he studies the intricate lines that create the web. There's a look of concentration on his face, deep in thought as she works to make sense of it all.

As she continues with her description, his mind wanders back to that day, a week ago, when the Hunters had attacked. Their timing had been impeccable with the way they had made the Strangers their objective as soon as they had arrived. After that ordeal, Haein finds himself waking up in a cold sweat during the nights, expecting to see a figure standing over him with a pistol to his head.

It's something he thinks about often, and with the Queen's sketch laid out in front of him, his gaze sharpens. ]

Your enemies... [ He reaches out, draws a line across one of the ancillary strands with his finger. ] They knew to target us that night.

[ There's a short pause before he turns back to the Queen. ]

You must have considered the possibility they came after you, too.

The Hunters.

[A haunted look passes over her face. Fay has had experience with the Hunters, dark and terrible just like the previous night.]

Surely, they were looking for me, but the residence was no place to work that kind of Craft. Too small. [The residence is massive, and some of the rooms cavernous. If she couldn't fit her web in the residence, it must have been large.] Perhaps if I'd gone home to Ebon Askavi... [She shakes her head.] I'm quite used to Hunters trying to kill me. I imagine you aren't. Are you well?

[ Well, that's not very comforting to know that the Hunters trying to kill the Queen is a regular occurrence. As much as he doesn't want to go through that trouble again, it seems unavoidable now.

But Haein is suspicious by nature, and if it hadn't been the Hunters who had done something to create such a large backlash against her, and it really was just a fluke with the spell, he's not feeling too confident about what that means for the future.

As to her question, he shakes his head—Not as an answer, but as a dismissal. ]

I'll worry about myself. [ He fixes her with a cautious stare. ] You do the same. We have a deal. I intend to see it through, but you'll have to be there.

[ So don't die. ]

It's a Queen's right to worry for her people and her land.

[She hears his worry, even though he couches it in tough words.]

Did Allairavar teach you how to shield? [There's a gentle, polite brush against his mind. It bears a strong resemblance to the way someone might reach out to touch and then withdraw just before contact is made.] Purple Dusk. It suits you. [Fay shifts back to her original question.] If he taught you how to shield your body, I can explain how to shield a room and feed just enough power into the shield so that it stays up throughout the night without draining you too much.

[She speaks from experience. She has done this before.]

If you'd like to learn, that is.

[ The range of expressions he goes through is kind of impressive. He's surprised at first by the polite brush against his mind. As gentle as it is, he's not used to anything like it, and he wonders for a moment if he'd imagined it. But then he looks confused by the comment about his jewel suiting him. Haein hasn't really given much thought to his jewel or what it means... He's not sure if the observation is meant to be an insult, a compliment, or something else entirely.

And then finally, there's a flash of annoyance on his face. He doesn't like showing weakness, ever. So for the Queen to know about his troubles for a good night's sleep leaves him feeling a bit exposed and vulnerable. ]

Did you go through my head just now?

[ Is that what the brush across his mind had been? After his run in with Jon and the doctor's subsequent use of mind control on him, Haein's feeling more than a little sensitive about this. ]

No.

[The answer is immediate and firm.]

The Blood guard our minds fiercely. Invading someone's without permission is— [She struggles to find the right word.] Abhorrent. I would never. And you would know if I tried. Even your minds are shielded. If I forced my way through those shields, you'd feel it. You'd know. [Her face pales as she speaks. Her hand trembles.

This is something she knows. This is something she has experienced.]

I made the offer because it's something I do to feel safe. Because the Hunters frighten me, too.

[ Some of the tension and wariness he'd been building up from earlier eases out of him at the sincerity of her answer. But there's a new mystery here as he watches her reaction, the way she pales and trembles. He's quiet as he waits for her to finish speaking, having never been one to pry, and as intense as his curiosity may be at this moment, he'd rather move past this. ]

Alright.

[ He tries his best to shake that the rest of the uneasiness off of him. He still hasn't forgotten how he'd been mind controlled on his first day here, and he doesn't plan on forgetting ever. There's a second's pause as he wonders what the Queen would think of such a thing, but then it's quickly gone. That was going to be his problem to deal with. ]

If you still want to teach me, I'll learn.

I do.

[She holds out her hand to him, palm up.]

The easiest way to learn is to let me into your mind. [She holds up her other hand to still him before he can react.] The mind has many layers. To show you this, I'd only need to go to the first one, where conscious thoughts are. Things like... "Oh, the sun is coming up, I wonder if it will be a warm day" or "My stomach keeps growling, and I hope no one notices." Those kinds of thoughts.

But if that makes you uncomfortable, I can... I can let you into my mind and show you there, too. It's harder to learn that way, but I don't mind if that's what you'd prefer.

[ Honestly, had she not offered to let him into her mind first, Haein would have probably booked it out of there like a spooked animal. He pulls back, even seems to withdraw mentally for a moment at the mention of delving into his thoughts. He doesn't completely understand what she means by the mind having layers, and the fear of the unknown has him hesitating.

There's a considerable amount of debating going on at his end, his gaze shifting uncertainly as he thinks about it.

It would make him uncomfortable. He doesn't know what to expect. How easy would it be to slip into another layer? And then another? Trust doesn't come easy to him, if at all. ]

The second option. [ And then, after a small pause, ] If it gets to be too difficult there, then... maybe...

[ Maybe he can let her into his mind. A big maybe. He'd have to see what it was like in her's first. ]

[As Haein fights with himself, wrestling with his thoughts to determine his own comfort, Fayura settles into a more comfortable position. She scoots closer, but sits to his side, legs crossed and her arms draped across her knees. Her thin body makes her gangly and awkward, all sharp angle and protruding joints.

Eventually, he decides what he wants, and she nods.]

Only with your permission, [She assures him.

Stepping into one's mind isn't an easy thing to describe. It's not like in some movie or tv show where one is suddenly in a white expanse of space, where things come and go and shift and change based on thought. Fayura's thoughts brush up against his, creating a thread for him to follow, and when he does, it's more like there's no difference between her surface thoughts and his.

She's thinking about the dull ache in her stomach and chest, and that thought almost feels as if it originates from his mind except that there's a flavor to it that's distinctly female and distinctly other. Worry curls around her like an old friend, a baseline anxiety that she seems to wear like a cloak. In spite of the warming spell around them, she's chilled, and she feels like she has to hide that or Verim will drag her back to her bed for a nap—and she's so tired of napping.

With a conscious effort, Fayura puts those thoughts aside. She reaches into herself, drawing a power that feels Red but isn't. She feels out the space around them, considering its size and its corners and the people inhabiting it. With her thoughts, she maps the edges of the training field. Then she gathers the power she's drawn and wraps a shield first around herself and Haein that fits them like a second skin. She pushes it outward, letting him feel through her how it expands, enveloping the people and things inside the space she's defined. It balloons and grows, drawing in the power she feeds it, and once it fits the training field, she eases back one step at a time until only a trickle of power moves from her to the shield. Enough to keep it up but not enough to drain her.

Another of those surface thoughts drift between them as she calculates her own strength relative to what it takes. A shield this size that isn't being attacked? She can maintain this for days.]

That's how it's done. [One of her court calls out to her. He's at the edge of the training yard and can't pass through her shield. Fayura laughs, dropping the shield, and that warm amusement slips back along the thread connecting her mind to Haein's.] You try with the connection still in place. It'll feel a bit different, since you wear Purple Dusk and I—don't. Like walking with legs that aren't quite the right length. The stairs won't be where you expect them to be at first.

[ The connection is nothing like he's ever felt before, and he'd have a hard time explaining it in words if ever asked.

He follows after Fayura's thread after a brief pause, and it's like he doesn't know where his thoughts end and her's begin. Suddenly, her aches are his aches, and her concerns are his concerns. It's familiar, but not. Like coming home to find a few things rearranged, and shrugging off the discrepancies even though he doesn't remember moving anything.

When the surface thoughts are pushed away is when Haein really starts to pay attention. He tries to get a feel for how she gathers her power, then lets it grow. He's a quick study, but this is starting to seem leagues out of his depth. Still, he makes a conscientious effort to learn, focusing on all the details he can grasp.

The warm amusement that manages its way to Haein's mind eases some of his worries about getting this right. It's a strange emotion to sense after only housing anger, annoyance, and apathy for the past however long, but an oddly welcome one. At the Queen's suggestion to try it, he nods once, a bit hesitantly, before recalling the way she had done it and following those steps.

True to her word, it does feel different. He stumbles a few times as he tries to map out the space around them, and the shield he adjusts around them is ill-fitting and awkward. He at least has a better time pushing it out to expand across the field, though it creeps along at a slow rate. Once that's done, he remembers back to how she had carefully trickled her power into the shield, and does the same.

Well, almost the same. The trickle ends up being more like a small leak, and Haein's feeling exhausted by the end of it. ]

[Haein leans quickly, and Fayura's admiration and pleasure slips along their mental link for him to sense. As he works his Craft, she pays careful attention, ready to intervene only if necessary. Mistakes are important; they teach you your limits. Mistakes with the Jewels, however, can be life-ending. She won't risk a life on a lesson.

Much of his inability will correct itself as he practices. She's only concerned about how much power he lets slide from the Jewel into the shield.]

Good. Imagine the power as a tap. Picture that in your mind.

[Fayura pulls a steady stream of power from her Jewel, into her body, and slowly eases it back to the barest trickle.]

This is the hardest part, but imagine you're closing the tap until there's only a steady drip. It's like... tightening a muscle.

[If he doesn't know how to do this, he could drain his Jewel overnight, and she won't risk that.]

[ As tired as he feels, Haein wants to get this right. He follows Fayura's instructions with a single-minded determination, listening to her words as well as getting a feel for it through their connection. A tap... he can imagine one of those.

He tries it again, keeping an image of a tap in his mind as instructed, then copies the way Fayura had slowly eased her power into a trickle with his own. It's better this time around, but still not what he'd been hoping to achieve, and before she can say anything, he attempts it again.

Third time's the charm, and Haein focuses on the minute details. He tries for precision, imagines himself just barely twisting the tap as slowly as he can, and the slight trickling of power into the shield is the end result. ]

Like this?

That's it!

[Excitement courses along the thread connecting their minds as Fayura probes against his shields with that not-quite-Red power. Gentle prodding reveals no glaring weakness, so she withdraws both power and mind, severing the connection between them gently.]

Very well done. I wasn't sure how easily you'd be able to learn that, partially because you're a Stranger, and partially because I've never shown someone in my own mind before. [Usually, for touches like that, it's easier to plant the thought in the other person's mind and let them feel it out. But that worked well, and she's pleased.] You can do that whether awake or sleeping. It's very similar to how Loren shielded the great hall during the attack. A good skill to have.

[Allairavar would be pleased.]

[ The excitement is catching, mostly because of the connection between them, but Haein can't help but appear pleased on his own. He knows he still has some ways to go, but that this lesson finishes on a high note puts him in better spirits than when they'd started.

With the connection cut, Haein feels a bit more at home in his own mind, though it does seem like something is missing for just a moment. It doesn't last long, and he's quickly comforted with the knowledge that he now has a useful skill to suit his needs.

There's an obvious amount of hesitation on his end after he listens to Fayura's words, as if he wants to say something but doesn't know how. It's almost like he's in a conflict with himself, and it shows even when he finally speaks. ]

Thanks, [ he says, and it sounds... stilted—Probably from a general lack of use. ]

You're welcome.

[She gives the words in a business-like fashion, as though sensing his distress and recognizing there's no need to draw out the exchange.

She also looks exhausted, and her hands tremble as she sets them in her lap.]

I think I should probably go inside, eat, and then nap. [Verim, from where he hovers nearby, looks immensely pleased by this.] If you have any other questions, Haein, please don't hesitate to ask. [As she rises, Verim comes to her side to help her. With his arm around her waist, he steadies her and lends her his strength as he leads her inside.]

[ Business-like fashion is much appreciated, not that he would ever voice that out loud.

He nods once to Fayura's offer, thinks to himself that he... probably won't take her up on that any time soon, then watches her head inside with Verim. He figures he can stay on the training field for a little while longer, catch his own breath, and then spend the rest of the day working on the shield some more.

The sooner he perfects it, the sooner he'll feel comfortable using it without second-guessing himself. ]

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walking in a field of fog

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