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"Between the Known and the Unknown"
Date: September 12, 2000 (Aether: January 27, 3907)  The doors to the Practice Room swing wide open, allowing a small group to emerge from the makeshift infirmary. This group consists of three Hounds surrounding two of the eerie Najada: the Najskor, Izak, and his wife, both as silent as can be expected. The bald-headed man's pale eyes flicker and dart to every foreign object, ceaselessly absorbing details. How strange is this city. How strange the people. His fingers briefly twitch at his hip, but there is no long dagger there to seize. The Hounds had been 'kind' enough to 'offer' holding on to it for now. The pair are finally emerging, with the pretense of being given a tour of Delphi and its grounds. Katya follows one step behind Najskor, her stride no less confident, and her gaze level. She pays only little attention to the surroundings, at least the physical ones. Instead, she studies the Hounds more closely, and doesn't leave the examination to the uniforms. The three Hounds blink in some confusion and frown upon the tall woman as her mind links up with theirs. One even grabs for the hilt of his sword, but leaves his hand there. Waiting just outside the quarters, casually leaning against the wall, is the young Atlantean woman whose mind did so much damage to the hive mind of the Najada during this raid. Okalani's blue eyes rest upon the two, and some irritation can be sensed in reaction to the confusion and discomfort felt within the three warriors, but her greeting is as friendly as her statue. *Pasiphae's Blessings *Join me?* Okalani invites, gesturing to the guards in motions which shows they're free to leave the three water-dwellers alone now. Katya's thoughts show some traces of what she was taking in from the Hounds: aspects about their structure, their service, their kind of organization, as well as their way of fighting. There is no indication whether this information was taken by force, or given to her freely. Quickly, the Najada woman's thoughts focus upon the high priestess. *Greetings, Kurie of Ursala,* she responds in a tone as smooth and cool as ice, though not hostile anymore. The terms already carry the inflection of their meaning, yet she does not acknowledge Pasiphae as a goddess standing alone, but merely as 'Ursala,' the moon goddess -- lover and mistress of Vodyanoi. Katya does not follow the invitation immediately. Instead, another tendril of thought is directed at the man in front of her, echoing the high priestess' question in expectation, but waiting politely for him to make the decision. The Hounds glance about to each other, uncertainty clear within their minds as to whether or not they should obey. Will these two Najada leave their beloved Estrel alone? They can't trust them, especially since the Najskor's wife is clearly poking around in their heads. And who's to say Izak isn't either? Indeed, he is, though his touch is a bit more subtle, and they don't quite realize that he is watching their thoughts as well. Reluctantly, the Hounds nod to the Priestess and back away. But they intend to remain close in case they are needed. Izak only glances to his wife, giving her a long and considering look, remembering back to an earlier conversation. Then he speaks, *We will join you, Kurie of Ursala.* Then he begins to approach her. The mention of that male deity who is somehow tied to Pasiphae arouses Okalani's curiosity, even though the mere thought of that God having power over the Mistress of Nature is amusing to her. It is something she doesn't hide, and she almost asks them to share more information with her now, but decides not to. *Later, we can talk. Now, I answer questions you wish to ask.* An outright glare is given to the Hounds when they do not leave her alone, and the tone of her voice speaks of her annoyance, "Leave us alone. If you complain, do so with the Archon. They are not prisoners." Due to the mental link connecting all three of their minds together, the two Najada will likely know what exactly she is saying, in case they do not speak Haven's tongue. *Let us go to the library, first?* The vision that Katya sent yesterday about Vodyanoi's presence is renewed, but this time, she seems more inclined to add the female moon goddess, Ursala/Pasiphae, to the image. It's not so much a question or consideration, but more a strong belief that has given reason to alter that image. The minds of the Hounds are completely blended out, but Okalani's words are heard, and an immediate acknowledgment is followed. She knows the Haven tongue. She has heard the Salacia. But the Najada are not of the Salacia, they are different from them, as the Najada are different from the Aesir. There is an interest in her to learn more of Delphi and what it stands for, but it's only reluctantly admitted. Deep inside, Okalani may catch a glimpse that Katya has only heard of Delphi through the myths and rumors of the Aesir, and they were as false and unreliable as you can expect from legends passed among drylanders. The three Hounds glance again at each other, disturbed by the annoyance in the Estrel's 'mental' voice, and so they leave without further ado. In the backs of their minds, though, they're worried. What if the Najada do attack her? Thorvald pushes into the room through the massive stone doors that lead into the practice room. Soundlessly, the doors swing shut again. Izak only casts a glance towards them, and without any regret or hesitation, releases the light touch of his telepathic link from them. Pale eyes dart towards the emerging Thorvald, but his steps do not halt until he reaches what he considers to be a polite distance from Okalani. His thoughts? He keeps them as still and open as possible, listening to and digesting what is said and not said between his wife and the High Priestess... who because of her, the lives of many of his men were lost. That final thought immediately calls for an answer from the Pasiphaean priestess, one of nearly complete agreement. Their lack of full speech makes most of their information vague, incomplete and quite unreliable. Not that the Lorekeepers serving Pasiphae have been that great at retrieving information about those who dwell in what she believes to be Salacian waters, but at least that was done out of respect for the privacy of their inhabitants. They are led to the library, into which Okalani steps. *Lorekeeper
files are not kept here Surrounded by a casual calm, Spirit-Whisperer descends the staircase to this, the ground level of the tower. His hands are clasped at his waist, fully engulfed in the sleeves of his brown kaftan. He stops short as he encounters Okalani and the two odd Atlanteans, an easy smile growing on his lips. "Blessings," he offers, principally to his fellow Estrel. Misty blue eyes measure the others for a moment before he continues forward. Katya is standing behind Izak, dressed in a brief loincloth that Delphi must have given her, for modesty's sake. Her belt with her knife is gone for the moment. Okalani is standing near them, but all guards seem to have left the odd trio of Atlanteans. Their eyes are focused upon one another, a silent first encounter of studies, any thoughts passed between them and them alone. Katya looks briefly at the passing halfbreed, before shifting her attention once more to the ongoing telepathic conversation. At the threshold of the Library, Izak comes to an abrupt halt. Pale eyes narrow upon this even stranger Atlantean/Sylvan mix of a man. Aelflings, the Aesir had been calling those pointy-eared ones. It is his wife who seems to be engaging in heavier conversation with the Estrel, for he himself personally could not care less about the ways of the southerner's religion. Weak and pathetic as it is. Pacifist, fish-hugging nonsense. It takes a stroke of will to suppress that train of thought and re-center his concentration upon the descending halfbreed. A threat? He doesn't seem very powerful, and the brown robes he wears tells him very little. A stream of telepathic thought is thrust towards the man, grasping and prodding. *Who are you?* Telepathically to you and others: Katya's sendings contain reservation towards the religious figurehead of a foreign deity, but no blame or hostility. None open, at least. Instead, she sucks up any chunk of information given to her by the high priestess, both about the Pasiphaean lorekeepers, as well as Delphi and the other races. For the time being, she keeps her judgement to herself. At the sight of the books, the memory of 'writing' returns to Katya -- not as something she has ever done, but as an experience shared with another, an Atlantean scholar who gave her that knowledge. Telepathically to Spirit-Whisperer: Okalani's mind touches yours, asking for permission to
convey the information of the tour she and Niamh decided might show the strangers Spirit-Whisperer sidesteps the small group, edging toward the Hounds stationed at the
entrance to the practice room. That's his intended destination. He raises his eyebrows at Okalani,
acknowledging her silently with a slight nod. Eyes immediately shift to the pair of strangers,
though, and the man's emotions shift from rolling blue calm to the icy white of outrage. With a
grin that doubles as a grinding of teeth, the halfbreed narrows his eyes at Izak, spitting out the
words, "Does he speak?"
"Ah, Estrel Spirit-Whisperer." Okalani identifies the Halfbreed with a pleasant enough
voice, and with a beckoning gesture of her hand, gives the impression of an invitation for him to
join this little group. "I am here to lead those visitors through Delphi, but perhaps someone with
more experience than myself could be of better help?"
A sudden frown appears on Okalani's face and she glances at both Izak and Katya. *Do not enter people's minds without their permission, it is considered an act of
violence*. Her tongue echoes this warning, but she does not block the magic of the two
telepaths, knowing her former teacher's will is stronger than even hers.
Thorvald steps out of the practice room easily, striding past the Hounds stationed there as
guards. His eyes narrow slightly as he sees the group: two he knows, and two that he does not.
There's a brief nod towards Katya and Izak as he stretches his red and white wings slightly, glad
to be out of the too-warm practice room.
The Najskor considers the halfbreed Estrel a moment longer, then simply turns away from
him. An act of violence, is it? That's not so strange a concept -- he usually receives two reactions
when he does this. Either submission or violent rebellion.
Izak releases his attempts to poke into Spirit-Whisperer's brain with bland apathy. If the
man wants to fight him for it, so be it. He'd prefer a straight fight to this constant suspicion and
wariness. Upon spotting Thorvald, he studies the man a moment, then looks back to Okalani and
his wife.
Telepathically to you and others: Izak's thoughts direct a simple, hollow greeting to
Thorvald and nothing more. The mere acknowledgment of another leader.
Katya, having by now reached the entrance to the library with the other two Atlanteans, lets
out a sneer at Okalani's declaration. However, she does not comment on it, either vocally or with
any telepathic projections.
Thorvald is given a cool, polite nod as he steps into the room, before her attention switches
again between the halfbreed and the priestess. Regardless of what her husband does or how he
takes that threat, Katya shows no intention of using her voice.
The outrage fades away, and Spirit-Whisperer shakes his head. Then he chuckles. "Okalani,
it appears that you have your hands full." He then lets out a more hearty laugh. "Perhaps we'll
assign an Empyrean housemistress to them to show them proper manners and put them in their
place." There's one final snort before he turns to regard Thorvald. Bright blue eyes study this
large man. He keeps his hands clasped within his sleeves for a moment before speaking. "Are
you one who understands my words?"
"And violence is not what we need when we are trying to gain some sort of trust between
our two factions," Okalani adds, looking Izak straight in the eye for some time before her glance
shifts so she may welcome the latest arrival, to whom she nods. "Blessings of Pasiphae,
dominus?" A bit confused about the proper titles for the leaders of these Aesir and Najada, even
though much has already been glimpsed from the minds of the latter.
Spirit-Whisperer's words make her laugh. "From what I've heard from the translator and
various friends, any proper Empyrean housemistress would flee the Aesir the moment they came
here." Both her tone and her emotions suggest that, as far a decency and stuck-uppishness go,
Okalani's on the side of the invaders.
Telepathically to Spirit-Whisperer: Okalani's minds attempts to touch yours again, "These
two do know our language."
Telepathically: Spirit-Whisperer's mind is blocked.
Aquamarine eyes didn't drift to Spirit-Whisperer earlier, but now they do, as Okalani
watches him for a moment before nodding slowly. "They do speak our language, teacher."
Thorvald's eyes slowly narrow as he regards the halfbreed before him. An interesting sort of
man, he thinks, that cannot decide if he wants to be an Aelfling, or one of the southern fish-folk.
"I understand you," he says. "I am Thorvald, son of Dreng, and I would like you to explain to me
why I need an Empyrean maid to teach us manners and our place!" Anger, smoldering in
check, flashes in his eyes, though there's no overt sign of physical violence.
Crazy damned southerners. First he's offended, now he's amused? Izak doesn't completely
understand as he watches Thorvald and Spirit-Whisperer out of the corners of his eyes. And with
the patience of one who is still busy studying his surroundings, the Najskor continues to wait for
Okalani to lead the way into the library. Only because of his wife's thoughts does he actually
know what a library might look like. Or what writing is.
But what Okalani says aloud catches his attention, and in the link shared between the three,
there is a ripple of skepticism. If he has anything to say aloud, Izak keeps it to himself.
Spirit-Whisperer laughs again, taking a single step toward the Aesir. "Peace, Thorvald, son
of Dreng," he shakes his head. "My reference was toward your companions." He gestures
absently in the direction of the two strange Atlanteans, displaying for the first time a hand
without webbed fingers. The Estrel is a supremely confident man, and he shows it here,
shrugging aside signs of anger and potential threat. Suppressing amusement, he meets Thorvald's
gaze fully. "I am called Spirit-Whisperer, and it remains to be seen if you require those same
lessons in manners."
"If you excuse us, we will retire to the library," Okalani tells both the non-Atlantean men
and turns around, hands already gesturing towards the door, which is now fully pushed open. A
last look around, "Oh, and Spirit-Whisperer, please do inform me when someone comes with
news about the whereabouts of my daughter. Sarojin is going to be upset if he learns that I've lost
her, and we've got enough problems on our hands." Men tend to be so unreasonable about such
minor things. "Let us go inside."
Katya studies the impressive room with a degree of surprise. She knows about reading and
writing. Mainly etching in stone or gathering scroll collections. However, she did not know of
such a place filled with books. This exceeds everything she ever expected, and her thoughts ring
clearly that people who must write so much down must either be incapable to think and
memorize, or have to write much which is not worth being written or remembered.
Okalani's words about her daughter are reflected dimly, stored away somewhere safe for
future use, and a quick thought of worry passes over to Izak, *What
about Hedeon? I have not seen him. Has he survived the battle?*
Even though the Najskor would prefer this train of thought to be private, he realizes that
with Okalani being such a powerful Telepath, the chances of that are unlikely. So look if she
must.
Izak briefly turns to study his wife, and though no changes on his face are evident in the
shifting emotions, there is a swell of paternal pride. *Our son survived.
He is resting amongst the other survivors, though he has requested and received my permission to
wander these halls and study what he can.* But of course, the boy had to take an escort.
That was not forgotten.
As Okalani's words sink in, the Najskor turns to study the woman once more. She does not
know the whereabouts of her child? Does she not care if the little one has been eaten by a whale
or polar bear? Perhaps, he muses to himself, they are more capable of reproducing quickly. Thus,
if one dies... there is little reason to care. Just have another. Yes, that must be it.
The sheer confidence that her connection with the child is strong enough for her to sense
that her baby is safe explains the reason for Okalani's lack of worry about the child's
whereabouts. Though it does not diminish the shock felt when she learns that her fellow priestess
was unaware of her child being alive or dead, even though they were kept in the same room. That
must have been horrible. Sympathy floods her system, something shared with both the other
ones, for while she could shield certain things from them, it is only fair that she does not now
that she can pick up virtually everything they think this moment.
No, she can never have another child due to what was done to her, but even if she could,
much of her would die should something happen to Lehua. An image appears of the little one,
and Okalani smiles as she adds, *You may like her father more than
me. He is <more violent, colder>, leader of the Pandions.*
Surely they are aware that that is the most powerful of all the Atlantean Decemvirates,
possessing the ships and largest number of inhabitants. They truly should interact with him some
time, just as they should with Orman Riva, friend and ambassador for all Atlanteans in Haven.
But they are here for the library, and she has to explain to them how things work here.
*Is there something you wish to know? I can show you how to look it
up and how things work here.* Show them both with her physical and mental
procedures.
Katya seems to care less about Okalani's personal matters, kids, and childbearing
capabilities, the deeply personal emotions sliding off a cool wall of ice. Sarojin's image is picked
up with the same distant interest as everything else -- to understand the distribution of force and
power, but not to care about the love she feels. Before she can formulate any questions on her
own, questions that concern the secret of Delphi, another thought tears her away.
The door opens behind them, and a Najada vojak, accompanied by a Hound, rushes in,
obviously very excited. His thought spills out open to all three, calling for Katya's assistance in
the practice room right now. Another vojak is convinced that he will die, and needs spiritual
assistance, and requests that the Kurie will perform a last ritual upon him.
With a clipped, chilly thought of acknowledgment, she agrees to the call, and heads out of
the library.
Katya disappears through the doors of the library.
Thoughts of the Pandion, of his wife and child, of the Priestess' own personal matters are
set aside in favor of other matters. Like... what to do now that he is alone with the
woman. Izak's mind seems to narrow and tighten, and though he is tempted to kill, he resists. For
now. His reasons? Well, the obvious. He is in the heart of enemy territory, and her lackeys are
but a scream away.
So he stands there, skin slowly shifting from icy white to bluish-grey. It would seem his
body is rather confused by all the sudden changes in color around him. Not the dim recesses of
the ocean's depths, nor the blank white of snow. A glance is thrown about the library, and he says
succinctly, *I was told that we (Thor and he) would be meeting with
your leaders. When is this to take place?*
So even these people wish a Servant to be at their side when they cross the line between life
and dead -- between the known and the unknown. A silent wish of strength is given to the Kurie
when Katya is called to leave, and the young priestess moves towards one of the large shelves.
Her hands caress the leather covers of the books as she pulls one out, holding it in her arms
and looking at it. She is completely at ease even when she feels the conflict within Izak's mind,
granting him time to come to a solution about whether or not he would kill her.
Apparently, he decides against it, and she smiles to him, turning around and offering him
the book, *People do not attack me. I am <Servant of
Non-Violence>* One sworn never to use violence and who would succumb to the
physical punishment he might wish her to give. As harmless as a newborn child, and none of the
Atlanteans she has heard about would dare to do a cowardly thing like that.
They stand close enough to one another for the woman to tilt her head so she may look him
in the eye. *Forgiveness is what Pasiphaeans believe in. If you wish to
punish me for destroying the <link of minds>, you may do so. I will not
complain.* Somewhere, she believes he has a right to do such a thing, though a
warning dwells in the shadows of her mind -- should he kill her, she cannot withhold any charges
and those who do not understand may accuse him after all.
*Thorvald meets Spirit-Whisperer, I meet you.* The
change from mystics to business is swift, revealing that both the strange Halfling and she belong
to the leaders of Delphi.
*You are not one of us, you never will be,* is the cold,
single thought that Izak has when Okalani sends out her well-wishing towards his now-departed
wife. Her sentiments of pity and sympathy are not welcome. At least, not by the Najskor, but he
is quite confident that his falling warriors would not welcome them either.
He listens to her words, but only enough to come to a judgement of his own. Weak.
Pathetically so. Weak as a newborn babe, he thinks, using her own terms. And her people follow
her so blindly without one scrap of proof that she is even capable of her position.
Again, the man's mind seems to harden when she steps so close, reeling with iciness. A
hand tightens into a fist, and his veins sing with a sudden rush of adrenaline. The Hejnal, the
song of battle, overwhelms his mind... but he does not strike. Teeth are gritted, and the warrior
leader of the Najada bids himself be patient. Now is not the time for a conflict. But oh,
how he silently promises that, if his wife had not had this vision that demands he be peaceful for
now, Okalani would be dead. And he would be dead soon after, and his family, and they would
be in Vodyanoi's golden palace beneath the waves. That is where he should be now.
Yet he steps away, fists relaxing and dangling limp at his sides once more. But back to
business... business. *What do you want with us?* he
demands. *Why have you done what you have done?* Take
them in, heal them. He doesn't buy this 'forgiveness' concept. Not from everyone, like that
halfling.
Weak? An interesting concept. She does not have any strength to defend herself against
violence, nor does she want to. It is not needed. Her people follow her for other reasons --
different ones than those which make his people follow him. What was it what Demetrius said
again? 'A harsh, cold world where there was no place for mercy.'
She does not believe this -- forgiveness is something which lives in all beings, even amidst
the landdwellers. But even the Varati do not view her as weak, for they have learned the strength
of her mind, her faith and her unwillingness to forego all that she believes in. That is the
perception of strength she believes to be true, one which forces her not to blink when she sways,
even though the blood circulation within her veins does quicken rapidly as her body prepares
itself for the coming onslaught.
But he does not strike. The book remains unharmed, displayed upon her arms, a reminder of
why they are here. Her thoughts are quite surprised that he still does not understand. *The leader of the winged ones who came with you took the leader of the
winged ones who dwell here captive.* A memory awakes and she giggles, recalling
Niamh's dry remark that they would not have liked all Empyreans attacking Delphi as well
should they have allowed the Emperor to die.
*We promised,* she finally states and examines him
some more, completely confused now. Surely, he does not resemble a landdweller enough that he
shares things with people which aren't true? *Your people promised as
well.*
*My people promised nothing,* retorts Izak. And
though he hardly moves, only turning his head to direct a frosty glare at Okalani, his entire being
seems to have grown so tense that he might just explode. *Do not
mistake the Najada for the Aesir again, woman. I only tolerate this truce that Thorvald Drengsen
and your leaders have concocted because it suits me.*
Well, really... deep inside, he wasn't quite ready to see his wife and son dead, yet. Not in
that moment of heated, pitched battle. He will never admit this, however, and it is only because
again she is the superior Telepath that she can see this reason at all.
He studies the book in the woman's arms momentarily, brow rippling with a brief frown. He
really has no particular interest in bits of leather and delicate paper. What worth is that? You
can't read it underwater, it would dissolve and rot.
Demetrius is to be recommended, this alliance between the two races is quite unnatural and
somewhat shaky. Something which needs to be considered. *I have no
desire to have the Najada killed.* Any less than he wished to see his wife and son dead,
but that is something that, if recorded, is not ever thought of again -- the Pasiphaean's mind
storing this knowledge underneath the nearly impenetrable shield all those who know secrets
have built. He may not even aware that she did take notice of it.
*You wish us <Delphi> to discuss things with you
separately from Thorvald?* she inquires further, *Not
jointedly together?* The book is opened so he can see the characters dancing on the
pages, *Useless beneath the waves, but those of us who can dwell
above it may thus learn the knowledge of Delphi and the landdwellers.*
And that is something which has made them both curious. But perhaps his wife would
appreciate this more. The book is returned to the shelves as her thoughts reorganize themselves
again.
Wish it? Wish it? Izak seems rather dumbfounded for a moment, by what he
considers to be the level of Okalani's incredible naivete. His reply is cold, given only because he
knows if he doesn't say this, these insane, stupid south-landers won't figure it out for themselves.
*If things must be discussed (how utterly incredible -- in a bad
way), then I will be part of these discussions. If Thorvald must be there, then so be it. I care little.
But do not be so foolish to expect that deals with the Aesir hold true to Najada. We are our own
people.*
And a very proud one at that. Disgusted beyond measure, the man pivots on his heel and
begins to depart the library. To Vodyanoi's hell with them all. He can barely think straight. He,
for one, is going to see to the body of his vojak, if the man is dead.
And just how did he expect things to be settled then, if not by discussion? Another fight?
The bookshelf is used for support as the High Priestess gathers her strength again, now that this
is over. So dark a people has she has never met, and it is as grueling an experience as the days
with those poor lost souls who forced her to spend time and thoughts with them for so long.
*May the light aid you,* comes her departing farewell,
thought with all her sincerity before the link is broken and her thoughts, and emotions, are known
only to herself.
FIN
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