Difference between revisions of "5302/The City of the Seven Tiers"

Latest revision as of 05:20, 7 July 2017

Sarah (316) has posed:
  Somewhere deep within the aquatic territory of the multiverse lies a world composed mostly of water. It is a water world, although portions of its surface aren't beholden to the violent storms found on other primarily liquid worlds. That could be the physics of the multiverse kicking in. You never know.

  In any case, in the heart of this aquatic world, there is a major metropolis on the water named the City of the Seven Tiers, or just 'Tiers' to its locals. It's a marvel of hydroengineering -- a seamless blend of magic and technology powering seven concentric tiers, with waterfalls, water locks, and other clever contrivances making such a thing actually feasible.

  There are trading ships all over the expanded area of its harbour. The first and second tiers alone are strictly mercantile, while the middle tiers house its residents. The upper tiers are devoted increasingly towards city administration.

  The whole of the City of the Seven Tiers is based around bits of island and landmass rich with vegetation, from which arches and waterfalls form boundaries for each ring. Beautiful architecture in white marble rises from the mists and the water -- and the highest central tiers houses the city administration with its soaring spires and pennants in the balmy breeze. Even at night, with the stars throwing so much light, the weather is warm.

  At the heart of the city are the nicest accomodations. Sarah had of course chosen the finest hotel that money could buy a reservation to, and it had been well worth the cost.

  The first night had been filled with the tasks of finding this place and then acquiring lodgings, and somehow Sarah had squeezed in just enough sightseeing to orient herself, commit the city centre to memory, and teleport back. She also might have spent a long time staring at the fascinating water-works and the unique engineering of the City of the Seven Tiers. Not just the aesthetics, either; she could feel the direction of the water on an intrinsic level, and all she could say about it was that it was simply artistry. The water, the forces of magic, and the forces of technology that keep this city going are, at least to her senses, in perfect harmony.

  Tonight, the second night, Sarah has resolved to relax.

  The hotel room is lit from the light of torches strung along the nearest open-atrium building, but not enough to be intrusive. It has a generously large balcony with comfortable seating, which is precisely where the wind mage will find his companion. She's sprawled in a comfortable padded chair, her staff leaned against the wall behind her, idly waving one forefinger through the air as though in imitation of a conductor's baton. A tiny waterspout turns in time to her gesturing, the True Water Rune glowing softly at her left hand. Her blue eyes are hooded in an expression of contentment, and half a glass of wine sits at hand (which is missing precisely half).

  She's not even dressed in the usual heavy layered dress she favours, because it's just too humid and warm in this city to wear otherwise. So it's a nice lighter version of her favourite-coloured dress, with more white in its trim. It's long-sleeved as always, but the thinner, more breathable fabric means she's not overheating constantly.

  Right now, though, she looks pretty comfortable and relaxed.

Luc (237) has posed:
Luc is quite certain that he's been to this place before, but he cannot recall /when/. The canals felt familiar, though it may be simply that they had been to water worlds before, and that sort of thing bleeds together like ink on a wet page. His characteristic grumpiness rose to the surface the moment they arrived, because the sound of water was constant in the surroundings. The crash of nearby waterfalls in particular was aggravating to him, though not so much that he made any substantial move to be on his way. Which wouldn't have been a great thing, really.

He could blink and be on another continent.

The Wind Mage was not as adventurous as Sarah was, but it was less in the sense of remaining sedentary and more in the sense of trailing her like a particularly irritable ghost. When he understood that she was trying to get enough of a bearing to teleport around reliably, he picked up the pace just out of a desire to have done with it. Eventually he split off and found someplace passably interesting to sit around, which ended up being a bar of all things.

He reasoned that the alcohol and the people hurt his head less than the white noise.

Today Luc had done something surprisingly productive and sold a batch of Fire Runes that he had set aside. They were for selling to start with, but he sold them just now because this was the sort of place where fire magic was rare, and so even if it wasn't as useful it would be a status symbol of sorts. But when the day lapsed into night his patience with being out and among people lapsed entirely and he wandered back to their room in relative silence.

Which brought him to now, striding out onto the balcony where the lighting was brightest. Luc lifts his eyebrows in reaction to the tiny waterspout and its orderly meandering, glancing between it and Sarah. He remarks, "There's quite enough of that here, don't you think? Try and give them some lightning. I bet the storms that /do/ occur here are remarkable."

He flicks his hand casually in Sarah's direction, (not at all) viciously attacking the ornamented hairclip that held her hair in its usual style. Then, without the slightest hint of warning, he moves away from the chair that he /might/ have occupied and drapes himself across Sarah's lap, his legs dangling over the armrest.

It was a long time ago he was able to fluster her with vague flirting or mild reciprocations of affection. This, Luc suspects, was near as he would ever get to blindsiding her that hard ever again. His own attire was lighter than usual, near to the flowy white-and-green robes he favored in his youth, though with arms and legs cropped shorter.

"What's that you're drinking?" He asks, dully.

Sarah (316) has posed:
  The water mage lifts a brow as her lap is suddenly occupied. Ordinarily she might have startled at someone closing into her personal space so quickly, but she always knows when Luc is approaching. The connection between the runes is one that she cannot ignore. Only at her most disoriented would she ever fail to notice it.

  So she blinks somewhat bemusedly. Lightning? Sarah snorts softly, which tells him about all she needs to say about /that/. She has absolutely no use for that element.

  Apparently he still has his old touch at wrecking her composure. Her face is a bit red even as she reaches up to run delicate fingers through his hair.

  "Wine," she states, with just a little more cheer than it should probably warrant. In direct contrast to Luc's surly attitude today, she's been soaking in the sights and sensations of this place, happy as a little hermit crab in a new shell. "Local vintage, no less, and it's quite good. Sweet, but not obnoxiously so; somewhat nutty. I do wonder how they manage vineyards in a place like this. Perhaps they import the necessary ingredients from elsewhere? "You should have some."

  It might improve his mood.

  She makes no move to chase him off her lap, though, even if he's a little heavier than she is, and even if it's going to get uncomfortable in a little while. She doesn't seem to mind. Her fingers sort through his hair again, gently. "Something has been gnawing on your last nerve for the entire day. What is it? Maybe I can help with it."

Luc (237) has posed:
Luc is already in the process of stealing Sarah's drink before she actually answers him about what it is. He takes a sip of it, pauses, and then nods in what must be nominal approval. He might've been about to hand it back to her, but he seems perfectly content to let her stroke his hair instead. He leans back against the armrest behind him and says, "Probably some disgusting underwater plant we'd really rather not be acquainted with. But there are a lot of very versatile fruits that can be grown in almost any situation. It's just that past a point a society gets to the point where they really don't /need/ to deal with the versatile plants."

"For instance," he takes another swig for himself, swallows and offers the glass to her, "dandelions. They're hardy and edible but the damn things are considered weeds in a lot of places. Of course they're not fantastic or anything, and they're a nuisance if you want a clear yard or some such nonsense, but as easy as they grow it's certainly something that will keep the hunger out if you keep them seeded."

"This of course is probably imported, yes." He agrees.

The Wind Mage will almost assuredly get bored of sitting like this eventually. It doesn't look /that/ comfortable, and he obviously just did it to get a rise out of her.

He's in the midst of taking another sip -- and then looking 'round for the bottle -- when Sarah asks him what's bothering him. The Wind Mage shrugs, "The usual. Tension as a result of overabundance of element, but also because it's just damned noisy here. It's all right when we're inside I suppose, and I could see getting used to it and being able to fall asleep easily just lying around here."

"Like listening to all the rain in the world."

"Don't stop their waterfalls, being lynched is much more bothersome than an environmentally-based noise complaint. Be funny if you made them run backwards for a while on our way out, though." Luc glances out across the balcony. "I suppose I could try to dream up a way to squelch the sound, but I'd rather just get used to it."

Sarah (316) has posed:
  Delicate, pale brows arch as the wine suddenly changes hands, and Luc helps himself to several swallows of it. Anyone else might be annoyed by such a show of entitlement, but she doesn't mind so much, evidenced by her slight half-smile. When he does it, it's an endearment, of a sort.

  "There is nothing disgusting about underwater plants. On the contrary, something as simple as kelp is a fascinating study in clever survival tricks," Sarah murmurs, running her fingers through his hair again. She lets her nails graze along his scalp, her own eyes falling to half-mast. "If there was one positive thing that came of being locked in a library tower for fifteen years, it is that I was fortunate enough to have a very good education." There's a little wryness in her statement. It's a joke. She's full of useless trivia from that library, but there wasn't much else to do but fill her days with reading. "I remember the strangest trivia from that place, sometimes."

  She eyes him at somewhat of an angle as he offers her the wine glass, taking it in delicate fingers and shrugging as she takes another drink. Dandelions? "Certainly. As an herb, they are wonderfully hardy. Both root and plant also have some medicinal value, among the more rural areas. I have heard it can be somewhat bitter, though. I would not know," Sarah adds, shaking her head. "I have never had the stuff for myself."

  She runs her fingers through his hair again, frowning very slightly. It seems a grave expression with her naturally solemn features, as though she were considering not mere discomfort from Luc, but a fundamental anomaly in the universe itself.

  Well, she's always taken him seriously. After so many years with him, she's made it clear that she will always place him before anyting else, as a priority. Her devotion to him is absolute. She has, on at least one occasion, proven that she is willing to sacrifice her own life for his sake, and do so without the least bit of hesitation.

  "Hmm. I apologise. I should have found a place somewhat outside the city to stay. I was not thinking of the ambient noise." Sarah thins her lips, taking another drink of the wine and absently offering the glass to Luc. "It does not normally bother me, I suppose because it is water. You know, I think that they may be using wind tunnels of some kind in this city, too. Most likely they're driven by the movement of water." The water mage's voice turns thoughtful, but the wine in her gives her a languid, almost lazy tone so unlike her usual punctual self. She half-smiles. "What a clever city. I wonder who had designed all of this. That must have been a sly fox of a man or woman, I'm certain."

  Leaning over, she presses a kiss to the top of his head, exhaling softly into his hair. "I was not thinking about stopping their waterfalls." Sarah is a singularly terrible liar, even if he can't see her face. "I suppose I could try to think of a way to dampen the sound, as well."

  "Perhaps I can manipulate the water closest to this city not to stop, but to move in silence. It would take conscious effort, but I could provide you relief for a little while, if you like." Sarah exhales again into his hair, this time a silent laugh. "It would be an interesting exercise in finesse on a large scale. A challenge," she adds, in a merry tone.

  She lets silence fall again, comfortable silence; practically radiating contentment. "What do you think of the wine?" she asks, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair again. Her touch is gentle, so gentle; warmth in the gesture itself as much as her tone of voice whenever she addresses him. No one else in the multiverse itself can coax that kind of warmth from her; not even Leknaat, the closest person to a mother that Sarah has.

Luc (237) has posed:
"I hate the texture of them," Luc replies without hesitation, making a wiggling motion with his fingers to try to gesticulate his point, "seaweed in particular. At any rate societies built on the sea come up with some profoundly bizarre ways to use the resources available to them and I find those things revolting. Again, it's the texture. Fortunately everything else is brilliant. Shrimp and everything you can make with it, lobster is alright when somebody has the sense to give it a try. Fish, of course. Now granted that doesn't mean any of those things I complained about aren't /interesting/."

"I just don't want wine made out of... I don't know, anemones."

He reaches over and flicks idly at Sarah's earrings, his lips curling into a faint smirk at the motion of Sarah's hands through his hair.

"It's alright," he says concerning the taste of dandelions, "we had a few cooks that would use the things in their greens, back in the day. Nothing too special but it was food and it filled you up just fine. I suspect they drowned it in something to make a little more palatable though. They drowned /everything/ in something to make it a little more palatable."

"Red peppers, mostly."

"They'd hold cooking contests occasionally. Volunteer as a judge and you get a better meal than most nights." He adds, thoughtfully.

Luc shakes his head lightly -- he didn't want to disentangle her fingers from his hair unnecessarily -- and replies, "This is fine. The places out on the edges of things are going to be creepy and filled with lice. I know all about /that/ kind of inn as well. No thank you, I'll take the one in the nice neighborhood with the excess of noise. Anyway, you're not going to get away from it here, so there's no use apologizing or thinking to change it."

"It's like the place with the external souls. It just happens."

Briefly, the Wind Mage pauses to look around. He's clearly not seeing into the surroundings themselves, so much as he is examining the air currents. After a moment however he gives up, evidently not nearly interested enough to keep trying to find what Sarah was pointing out. "There's too much noise. Not literal noise, just breeze."

"Mer-person." The Wind Mage offers as a suggestion for who might have built this place. On reconsideration, he corrects himself, "Frog-person. Mer-person wouldn't need to build on the surface. Bet there are mer-people on this planet though. And quit looking for magical solutions."

He raises a hand to ruffle her hair, "Abusing our abilities on /this/ scale would mess with the weather. I don't mind doing that at home, but they might not like it here. Besides, there's easier ways to distract."

Luc leans over to plant an /entirely innocent/ kiss along Sarah's jaw, and then spends a couple of more moments looking for the bottle of wine. He locates it along the side of the chair, twists uncomfortably to pluck it up, and then settles back across Sarah. He doesn't bother answering her question directly, just takes a great gulp straight out of the bottle.

Sarah (316) has posed:
  "I would not trouble myself to eat something like that," Sarah answers, leaning back more comfortably in her chair. The corner of her mouth twitches in a half-smile as he flicks at her earring. She reaches around him to unpin both earrings from her ears, setting them on the table beside her. He's already taken care of her hairband.

  "I'm certain that anything can be palatable when you pour enough red pepper into it." Sarah's tone of voice suggests she doesn't believe a word of it. "I have no notion how people can eat something so spicy. I would be miserable."

  His observation that places in the hinterlands are creepy and filled with lice earns a soft snort. Probably he's right. Paying the premium for a hotel room that is actually clean enough to be considered sanitary is a convenience cost Sarah is entirely willing to pay. She might have looked for a place to take him to alleviate the white noise, but he's probably right. There probably aren't any places out there that pass their ridiculously high standards for cleanliness.

  "Frogs? Maybe." And quit looking for magical solutions, he chides her. She flushes a little as her eyes slide away from him. "It would not have interfered with the weather patterns. Merely a damper for the sound. I would still have been able to power their systems," she mumbles, a little defensively.

  Her eyes screw shut as he ruffles her hair, but he might not miss the half-smile she shows as he does. It used to drive her insane, but the gesture has grown on her; a show of affection she associates Luc with when he's in good spirits.

  And then he leans over and does something to her jaw. Her eyes flutter closed, waiting for the next. It doesn't happen. When she cracks an eye open, he's twisting at an impossible angle to retrieve the bottle of wine. Oh, and now he's taking a swig straight from the bottle.

  One forefinger lowers to prod him in the back of the neck. "I suppose I should consider that an endorsement for the local vintage. Don't drink it too fast. You and I, I'm afraid we're still terrible at holding our liquor," she adds, laughing softly. "I very much doubt that I'll ever have that knack."

Luc (237) has posed:
"People can get used to almost anything. You and I, we're spoiled. Have been since Leknaat got ahold of both of us. But /you/ remember, and I remember, what makes absolutely everything taste utterly divine." Luc replies, frowning slightly at the absence of anything else to fidget with. He supposes that she'd be rather upset if he flicked the earring off the balcony, or otherwise simply prefers if they're not in the way. Absent this, he reaches over to poke Sarah lightly on the tip of her nose.

"Hunger. It's hunger. And well, spices like that make the things that soldiers have to eat a lot easier to stomach. Relatively speaking. Once your digestive system is well enough used to the spice itself, and it gets there, you can eat damn near anything because you can't taste it at all."

"You'd be surprised how many soldiers fall for somebody telling them they've something in their eye after they've handled something covered in dried red peppers, though." He adds, with a slightly malicious smile.

The Wind Mage shrugs, lightly, in answer to Sarah's embarrassment. "There's no need to be getting into bad habits like mine. I'm sure that they've driven a part of my... problems, and made it more difficult for me than need be. Besides, usually you're the one who champions Leknaat's favored /proper/ way of doing things."

"Give it a couple of years and we'll be back where we started, and I'll go right back to corrupting you again."

Luc passes the bottle over to Sarah, "Then have some yourself. No, we'll never hold much of even this sort of thing. We're too small, but I've no complaints about that. No number of Fliks can do the things I can do, so I don't mind being too short to reach high shelves. That's what ladders are for."

He bent over to plant another kiss to Sarah's jaw, and once again left it momentarily at that.

"How is your Rune keeping? You haven't brought it up lately." He wonders aloud, halfway between concerned and hopeful.

Sarah (316) has posed:
  "This is true." Sarah's expression turns a little solemn when he mentions what they had been accustomed to. What they still remember, even if they live now a life of privelege. "I remember what it was to be hungry. I also remember what it was not to have seasoning and spices."

  She had been fed in the One Temple, but her fare had not been very sustaining food, and for fifteen years she had lived on that meagre diet. It had taken a year or two with Leknaat before the hollows had finally vanished from beneath her ribs; for the gauntness to leave her cheekbones.

  Even now, at a time when life is generally easy for her, she still manages to be slender and willowy to the point of occasional consternation in others. Having a power drain like the True Water Rune probably doesn't hurt. The rune's demand on her body, which is frail to begin with, is monstrous.

  She probably couldn't put weight on with a rich diet even if she wanted to. Her body simply burns the energy too fast.

  "Maybe." Sarah laughs softly when Luc suggests they'll be back to square one in terms of who's influencing whom. It's a pleasant sound, one that she doesn't share very often, and invariably, Luc's the only one to witness such a side of her. "To be honest, I'm glad that I grew somewhat out of holding you in quite so much awe and fear. It was a little too overpowering." She shakes her head, mirth in her colourless eyes. "I suppose I had no better way to express the emotions I felt, when I knew you paid that sort of attention to me."

  The wine bottle is passed to her, and Sarah stares at it in the solemn puzzlement of the slightly drunken. She looks over at him when he suggests she have some, and as he ticks off his reasonings, she busies herself with taking an unladylike swig.

  It's true. He's an awful influence on her.

  "I suppose that's one way of looking at it," she comments, offering the bottle to Luc. Since he's so graciously offered, getting roaring drunk and enjoying good company sounds like a wonderful plan for the evening. Her head tilts faintly as he leans over to press another kiss to her jaw, eyelids once more fluttering closed. She waits...

  ...for another kiss that, once more, doesn't follow. He might feel her exhale a soft breath of exasperation. That is completely not fair.

  "There hasn't been much to bring up," she explains, winding her arms around him and pulling him closer, resting her chin over his shoulder and closing her eyes. "It's been behaving itself, which is honestly all I can really ask for. I've had nightmares, of course, but that's hardly out of the ordinary. Between the Ashen Future and Annu, it's a wonder I can stand to sleep at all."

  Tilting her head, she brushes her lips over his shoulder, more an idle gesture than a deliberate one. Her eyes are fixed far off to the horizon, where torchlight glows and wavers over distant rushing water. She could get used to this place, for all of his complaints. It's enlivening; sings in her veins like the strongest coffee in the world, in a way she isn't sure how to put to words. Maybe it's just sympathetic resonance with so much of her affiliated element in the area.

  He might feel her stir, but she only does so enough to run her fingers through his hair again. "I think it's quiet for the moment because of this place. This water, these waterways and cataracts and waterfalls, these fountains and locks... something about having so much of this water /moving/... I feel like I have all the energy in the universe itself singing through me right now. I feel so empowered. /Alive/," she breathes, chuckling softly, nuzzling into his hair. "I wonder how much of it is the True Water Rune, and how much of it is me."

Luc (237) has posed:
"I don't know about /you/, but the bastards left me to starve." Luc grumps slightly. Of the clones of Hikusaak, he was the one considered to be a failure. The Rune had dug its claws in so deep that removal had been deemed functionally impossible, and it has a great deal more of an effect on him than it would on the next nearest bearer. Which isn't to say that Sasarai was perfect. He was stable but brittle, and when his illusions were shattered he had suffered greatly for it as well. Not so much, though, that he went to the Wind Mage's lengths to correct the "problem".

Sarah had been less threatening, more useful.

But at times Luc would not help but wonder what the Wind Rune might have done as his life left him. The True Runes did not countenance undue danger to their bearers, and it would not have surprised him if it had wreaked havoc upon Crystal Valley during his exit from the stage. At times, he could not help but wonder if that was the whole point all along.

Luc waves a hand in answer to Sarah's laughter, and her meanderings on influence. He says, "You say so, but in truth I think you would've been foolish not to fear me, or Leknaat. Meaning no disrespect to your own skill or power at the time, but anybody with a True Rune is a thing that ought be feared. Even the incompetents. Perhaps especially the incompetents. The Flame Champion was a poor enough bearer of the Fire Rune, but he still stole it from Harmonia and laid the beginnings of the war in the Grasslands. Without he and his friends bumbling about, that tinderbox wouldn't be so ripe for exploitation."

A feline smile curves Luc's lips in answer to Sarah's breath of exasperation. He continues on to the grim topics that follow, "The funny thing is, it makes you want to sleep more. The Ashen Future at least, not the other. No energy. Or at least that's what it does to /me/."

Luc raises a hand to seize one of hers, lifting it lightly towards his lips to press a teasing kiss to her fingertips. He stops to answer, "It's the both of your Runes. You were born with an aspect of water, so that seems natural to you, and I suppose by your reckoning that it is as natural a part of you as any. But it's certainly not 'you'. I imagine to them it's rather like a bear being roused at the end of its hibernation."

"Or perhaps it's simply the reality they'd prefer to see exist."

Sarah (316) has posed:
  "You say that as though I didn't already know that," Sarah points out blandly, about Yuber being a piece of work. Literally anyone else could be called in Yuber's place to get a job done unless that job was violencing something. Violencing is something he is alarmingly good at. "And I can't help it. Everything about that /creature/ disgusts me."

  She tilts her head a little, eyeing him when he gives that nasty smile. Sometimes he's a little scary when he smiles like that, although it doesn't give her any serious apprehension. It does give her pause, though. He tends to be plotting things when he pulls faces like that.

  "I could have." Sarah shrugs. "Speaking honestly, though, the things that I enjoy the most there are things that I can have anywhere else on the face of the multiverse." Levering herself up on an elbow, she reaches up to tap a forefinger over his nose. "You, primarily. But we can go anywhere, you know. I think it's good to travel. I might miss the library, I suppose, but none of its contents are unique texts."

  She lays herself back down alongside him, tolerating his mussing of her hair with a smile. It doesn't bother her half as much as she lets on. "Perhaps." This, in response to Oppenheimer. If his wine collection is that good, it might even be worth having to endure dull conversation. "Poison roses? That sounds like either a terrible idea or a brilliant one. I haven't decided which, yet."

  Sarah frowns, as though she were trying to make that decision.

  Eventually she just shrugs, leaning over to press a kiss to the point just below his ear. "Right now, I'll accept the City of the Seven Tiers. I really do want to study this place later. I'm quite curious how they manage to move all of this water in ways that keep the city running. It must be an incredibly efficient model." She blinks out of her reverie, though, glancing back over to him.

  For several long seconds she only watches him, intently, allowing herself a flicker of a half-smile. "Feeling any better?"

Luc (237) has posed:
"The world needs a periodic reminder. He keeps getting summoned no matter how many times it turns out to be a bad idea, you see." Luc remarks, amusedly.

He does sigh a little irritably on the subject of Toran Castle, "The only thing I'll miss greatly is the baths. The library we can take with us easily enough, it's just a matter of boxing things up and moving them right along to wherever we go. That library in the castle isn't /that/ big, although it may take up most of the lodgings we're liable to get. Not that it matters, it's not as if there's something /else/ we're going to occupy space with."

"The giant bath though, you can't find that everywhere unless you want to bathe with a bunch of strangers."

He pauses.

"Done that enough, too."

He scratches his head as he ponders Oppenheimer's poison roses, "It was brilliant at the time. The fortress was unapproachable because there's not much you can do about poison gas, you see? Took out most of McDohl's troops that tried to take the lace, because it looked well and truly unguarded at the time. We eventually burned the exterior plants up, but he still had some nasties up his sleeve."

"Man-eating spores. We had to bring a man back to /life/ because of that, you know. Such are the stars."

"As for this place, they could power their society with all of this water if they were of a mind to. I suppose there must have been /land/ once for there to be tiers and waterfalls for them to have raised it over, unless that's artificial too." He clearly hasn't looked at it too closely, to have made such a remark.

Luc blinks in mild surprise when she questions his well-being. As it happens, /yes/, he's been less irritable through this conversation than when he started. He replies, "Water you may be, but you've no hope of making me as annoyed as the perpetual churn of waterfalls. Yes, I feel better."

"And fuzzy." He adds, unnecessarily.

Sarah (316) has posed:
  "Yes, and people keep failing to learn the same basic lessons every time he needs to be summoned back to reality." Sarah's answer is a grumble. "Oh, yes, they remember how terrible he is, and if there were anyone interested in treating with a monster like him, they learn quickly. Then, they forget. Memory fades. And then some bloody idiot decides it would be a great idea to have a thing like Yuber in their back pocket."

  She might be looking pointedly at Luc, because Luc had been all for hiring the crazy bloodthirsty monster in his plans. Keeping Yuber on point and behaving himself had been so much more than a full-time job. It had also been /such a pain/. That, for her, had been infinitely more stressful than anything Luc had asked her to do, save perhaps summoning and supporting an entire army. Even that she had done without complaint, though it had cost her deeply; leaving her weak and alarmingly pale the further their campaign went.

  Sarah snorts, softly.

  "I forgot about the baths. Yes, I suppose I'll miss those, too. Well, no need to worry about that. I will make a point of finding places that have unreasonably luxurious accomodations, and then we will have access to bathtubs that will put Toran Castle to shame." The water mage chuckles. "I'm sure they exist, somewhere. But no strangers. I do not think I could ever do that."

  Sarah is about as modest as they come. The idea of her actually letting down one layer of clothing around total strangers, let alone all of the layers, is absurd.

  She leans up against him, resting the side of her face against his shoulder as she considers. Man-eating spores. That sounds brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Seriously, who thought that was a good idea? That kind of thing always has the potentiality to turn into a huge mess, backfire on the person who engineered it, and otherwise make a huge hassle for everybody involved and probably a few people who aren't.

  "Mm. I suspect that they do," she comments, to his observation about the water driving the city. "I have not bothered yet to look too deeply, because that will require a great deal of concentration, but I think that there are mechanisms more complex than even I might suspect deep in the heart of these channels and locks. Even the waterfalls, I suspect, serve a purpose. There must be something to collect all the energy of the water as it comes roaring down. I would have to look deeply to actually follow the water's course through to the end."

  She can't decide if it's ingeniously efficient, or just an expensive show of power. It might be a bit of both until she has a chance to do some sleuthing of her own.

  Splaying her fingers over his chest, she traces an idle pattern over his Rune-entangled heart. "Yes? I imagine there was land, once. If there was, though, it is trivial enough that I sense more water than land. The water extends down for many hundreds of fathoms, I think." Sarah's voice turns thoughtful, but her hand continues to meander, eyes distant as she looks more deeply. She's looking into the water itself, and the deeper she looks, the more her colourless eyes slip out of focus. "Mmm. Very deep."

  Sarah comes back to herself, blinking hard to reorient herself. She's proficient enough to slip that focus on and off like a glove, but coming back too quickly always feels a little awkward. Her surroundings look so strange when she sees things with her physical senses again.

Sarah (316) has posed:
  "Hmmmm," she says in response to his last observation. Although she doesn't laugh, there is a promise of one in her voice. "Really? Then, I'm glad that I am not as annoying as the perpetual churn of a waterfall." She leans forward, eyes drifting closed as she presses a faint kiss to the line of his cheekbone. "I like to think of myself more an ocean. Oceans are calm, but still waters are capable of running deep." Very deep. It takes a lot to push Sarah to true anger, but when she finally succumbs, her wrath is terrible to behold; swift and savage and overwhelming as the tsunami.

  She smiles, then, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his -- a soft but decisive kiss, a sign of affection; even a little possessiveness. It's a long moment before she pulls away, and she doesn't go far when she does, staying close enough to rest her cheekbone against his. "Fuzzy, hmm. Had enough wine, do you think? It does have a way of loosing one's wits. The world feels softer after a few glasses of wine; nothing seems quite so important. Sometimes, it's good to feel that way." She isn't quite breathing into his ear, but it's close. "Fuzzy, sometimes, is good."

Sarah (316) has posed:
  "No, in that specific case there was no way he could actively hinder your plans. Still, if someone hadn't appointed themselves his keeper, I think things would have turned out differently. Not necessarily better or worse, mind you, but differently." Sarah hoods her eyes, considering. "Yuber? Assist with something like ressurection? No, he would never. It runs contrary to his very nature. I do not think he could even be forced or coerced into such a thing."

  Taking his Rune and having done with it wouldn't be unwise, she decides. Now, with the power of the True Water Rune, she could likely stand toe to toe with him; briefly, she thinks it might actually be cathartic to crush him like a bug someday.

  If it ever came down to that, anyway. If it comes to pass, it does; if it doesn't, she'll lose no sleep over it.

  "A pond? No, absolutely not. Ponds left too long in the sun are filthy things, you know, and some of the things growing in them are better not named." She leans on him at the touch of his fingers through her hair, pausing just long enough to make a quiet, pleased sound. "Meltwater is a good comparison. Cold, clear, pure. Swift."

  Tilting her head as he focuses his attention on her neck, she leans against him, eyes fluttering closed. "I think," she observes with the solemnity only someone more than slightly drunk can summon, "that I am a great deal more fuzzy than you are right now."

  "But I don't hear you complaining about that, either."

Luc (237) has posed:
"I suppose he might be inclined to resurrect someone who will cause a great deal of damage for fun." Luc suggests, half-heartedly. It isn't really important, not that any of this discussion of Yuber /is/. The degree to which he would cause Sarah's blood pressure to spike would be high enough that even the Wind Mage wouldn't really want him around for any practical purposes.

"If not meltwater, then I suppose rain is the next descriptor I would use. Rain comes down in a lot of different ways. Light, hard, frozen, irregularly. A pond... I am certain that somebody has borne that Rune which we could then describe as a pond. Not Lightfellow I think, I would describe /him/ as series of rivers with many rapids. Too quick-moving, and never quite remaining in the same place. Not altogether clear from the fierceness of it. Dangerous, but not that hard to tame either."

Or in another word, average.

"Hmm? No. I wouldn't." Luc replies, shutting his eyes and resting his face against her neck. "I can find better things to complain about. The sound of the waterfalls will eventually start getting to me again. I don't really look forward to moving out of Toran Castle."

"That wine smells too strong."

"There aren't enough giant flying insects." He shrugs.

"Things like that."

Sarah (316) has posed:
  "He would cooperate with that." The water mage's observation is in a tone of resignation.

  Normally Sarah's blood pressure is quite safe, and she is masterful at controlling her own reactions. Having the power of the True Water Rune makes it a necessity. Yuber, however, has a way of her into genuine rage. Everything he is manages to dig under her skin. Luc also has a way of getting under her skin, but he never truly angers her -- she enjoys his teasing, his constant testing.

  Yuber just pisses her off and makes her want to commit murder. In earnest.

  "Rain is a good descriptor." Sarah tilts her head as he rests his face against her neck, pressing an idle kiss to the side of his jaw, content just to lie beside him and savour his company. Her breath is quiet, calm; warm against the side o fhis neck.

  It's true that he can exasperate her from time to time, but she's never been truly angry at him. She is far too accomodating for that; far too accepting of who and what he is. Getting irritated at his quirks and his idiosyncracies wouldn't change them, and she prefers to focus on the aspects of him that she's drawn to.

  Nuzzling into the side of his neck, she lets out a contented breath, huddling a bit closer into him. "You are warm," she murmurs, smiling against his neck, even laughing softly as he starts listing complaints.

  "We will just take our things from Toran Castle, but I doubt it will be used again any time soon. If we change our minds, we can always return. Or find a new place from which we can conduct our operations. I will miss it, too, but I agree that it is better not to stay in one place."

  Harmonia just doesn't need the extra encouragement. She's not afraid of them any more, but having to defend herself from their ambitions would still be an inconvenient and exasperating hassle. "For now, though, I hope the waterfall hasn't begun bothering you too much. I suppose we'll both get used to it after a few days." Her throat's been a bit raw, with having to practically shout over the roar of water -- her voice is quiet and whispery even on the best of days.

  "The wine? Really? I hadn't even noticed," she observes, cracking an eye open and looking at nothing in particular. "It does taste nice."

  There's a few seconds of silence.

  No, seriously, the world doesn't need more giant flying insects. The world never needs more giant flying insects.

  "Why do you have to remind me that those wretched creatures exist?" Sarah murmurs, plaintively, from somewhere at the side of his neck. "I don't mind smaller insects, especially things like dragonflies, or maybe butterflies -- who minds butterflies? -- but the mantids..."

  She actually shudders against him. Those things give her the worst kinds of heebie-jeebies. When they were staying in Lebuque, it had graduated from heebie-jeebies into full-blown nightmares. Sarah hadn't looked rested until they'd moved on far away from that place.

Luc (237) has posed:
"I do not know how I might describe myself," Luc rambles as much to himself as to Sarah, "perhaps some sort of very mild storm front I suppose. I push things hither and to, and in the process I effect change by indirect means. But I do not typically take center stage myself, and when I do it is a disaster in the making. My star is not meant for leading, and I am hardly suited to it in personage."

The Wind Mage envelops his companion in his arms, drawing her into a light embrace. He nods slightly at her remark -- that he's warm -- but ponders on. The matter of Yuber and all the rest is let to lie, because it really is an ugly subject. At times he wonders if he is merely over-obsessed with this gruesome phantom turn that his life might have taken, and that it is a sign he will return to it inevitably.

He doesn't voice these thoughts aloud.

"It will be years and years before Toran Castle is used by another," he says with conviction, "it is a place to which people are drawn solely because they have need of safety and a place to build their strength. It is at the center of an important economic center but it is not practical. It is not a home. Blood has been shed there, and old magic lingers in its depths. Eventually, long from now..."

"Some fool boy will take it up, and the Toran Republic will become something else."

The Wind Mage makes a vague noise regarding the waterfalls. He hasn't a need to comment on it any further. It is what it is, and no words will make worse the irritation or unmake the situation of it. Besides, he likes the place in all other respects.

He cannot stop himself but making a small, sarcastic noise in answer to Sarah's assertion that /she/ needs to get used to it at all. Luc casts her a sharp, knowing, you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look.

"No," he says concerning the wine, "I can simply smell the alcohol on the both of us now. The wine is not that strong-smelling. It was a joke."

Regarding the mantids, he smiles, and says, "Because I liked them. Because they are no more offensive than any other creature. Because it gets your hackles up, and that amuses me. Because boys never stop being entertained by gross bugs."

Sarah (316) has posed:
  "Rain, borne on a storm front. I suppose that's a fitting enough description of the both of us," Sarah murmurs, leaning against him. She manages a small, pleased sound in the back of her throat as he pulls her closer, nuzzling into his shoulder and letting her eyes slide shut. Her arms slip around him, holding him even as she's being held. "The wind supports the water. It's true that I take care of you, that I support you where I can. But you also support me," she murmurs, warmly. "More than you can know."

  Shifting slightly to pull the blanket more securely around themselves, she rests her face against the side of his neck again, sighing; one hand traces along the line of his shoulder, idly, as though she weren't even aware her hand is moving. "Perhaps. Perhaps it will sit empty. Whatever the case, it is not a home, no. It is a base of operations. Perhaps, while we travel, we might search for someplace that could be a home for us. Hmm? Or we may simply wander, like the wind, like the rain."

  "Maybe so," she murmurs, in regards to the alcohol, chuckling. "This place plays havoc with my senses, a little. All except for the Rune's, that is."

  Luc smiles and lists his reasons why he likes the mantids. She had been about to kiss the side of his neck, but she pauses, hovering just over his skin; breath warm as she snorts.

  "You know what I think? I think you just enjoy getting my hackles up more than any of those other reasons."

  "I suppose I could see how there is something to admire about them, from... somewhat of a distance... they do have quite pretty carapaces, irridescent and colourful. But... the /sounds/ they make, and all those /legs/." Sarah shudders. She can't help it. "Eugh."

Luc (237) has posed:
"After a fashion." Luc grants, shutting his eyes in turn. After a moment he adds, "I can't see how I substantially support you these days. You're grown up enough that you haven't much need for me, and you've certainly done things that I would not involve myself in. What then would you say I provide to you, precisely? Whimsy? I suppose that /I/ would say it is whimsy."

The Wind Mage reaches down and aids Sarah in drawing the blankets up, so that she doesn't have to twist too much to do so herself. He shuts his eyes again, frowning slightly. There had only been one place he'd ever felt at home, and that feeling left him a long time ago. Leknaat's tower was certainly A Home, but to her it was just another destination to hide and watch until the time came to do it all over again.

"I feel as if perhaps we've become accustomed to excessive lodgings." He suggests, in an amused voice, "but I can think of a few possibilities I suppose. I do not really know what goes into a proper home though, only the things that I would rather not do without."

"A study with enough bookshelves. A nice bath. A secure place to sleep. A secure place to sleep." He repeats the last deliberately and with conviction. It was not a mistake that he said so.

"... Plays havoc with /your/ senses? You must be joking. This is your kind of place, are you telling me that it's setting off /allergies/?" His incredulity shone through more brightly than any other feeling he'd mustered for days. The idea must /really/ be ridiculous to him.

He nods, and confirms, "I do. But I also like them well enough. They're flying things you can ride, flying things you can ride appeal to me. I like dragons too. Would you prefer great big butterflies, so big you can see what makes them ugly and strange even if you'd otherwise have liked them?"

"I think your aversion has much to do with the fact that they do not communicate like humans or other animals do do. It's easier to see the... processes of the manner in which a dragon acts, I think."

Sarah (316) has posed:
  "I suppose in the strictest of technical senses, no, you do not support me." Sarah shifts her weight against him, mostly so she can settle more comfortably in the circle of his arms. "Perhaps not to any outward appearances. I am, to an outside eye, entirely self-sufficient. But you provide me something that they cannot see."

  She reaches up, delicate fingers gently sorting through his hair, touch light. "You give me emotional support when I most need it. I do not think my nights when I dream of Annu or the Ashen Future would be quite so easy for me to move past if you were not there," she observes, quietly. "And I do not think that enduring the aftermath of a trial like Annu would have been possible without knowing I was coming back to you."

  "I would say it is love, even if not in the sense that many think. You give me something to take refuge in. I give you... well, I am not particularly sure what I give you, but it must be sufficient," she adds, with a flicker of a smile, "as after so many years we have not parted ways."

  To the matter of lodgings, she only shrugs, the faintest of movements against him. "Perhaps. To me, home is where you are. I have never really had a /home/, per se, so it is not something that I would necessarily miss. Ultimately, the other things are only that -- things."

  Her kind of place, giving her allergies? She chuckles. "No. I'm saying that it's like being in a field of wildflowers, perhaps. It's overwhelming." He might remember the day he had taken her someplace like that, for the first time. Just getting her to walk beside him had been a bit of a trial, trying to overcome her subservient instincts and inherent shyness. The reward had been worth it, though, to see her gaping at the field of simple, common wildflowers as though she had been shown the greatest of worldly treasures.

  In truth, it had been, to her. Something new; something completely unexpected that she had never experienced before. She had, for a few moments, been completely overwhelmed, unable to even think or speak.

  Maybe having so much of her element surrounding her has something of the same effect, not because it's simply and placidly there, but because there is motion and dynamism to it -- the City of the Seven Tiers directs its water, and puts it to purpose. It is hardly still at any place in this city, and a great deal of it is somehow impelled by magic.

  She leans forward to press a kiss to the side of his neck, burying her face into his shoulder enough that she can still breathe but can otherwise hide her face; lose herself in him. He might feel her eyes close; the feather-light touch of her eyelashes. "Maybe in time I'll find them tolerable, but not just now. I am not overly fond of dragons, either. Nor do I think I would like butterflies half so much if they were more than the harmless little creatures gracing so many gardens."

  "I do not even like horses, and they are a great deal smaller than dragons." She's never quite gotten to the point of bringing herself to learn to ride. Creatures larger than she is tend to make her a little apprehensive no matter how well-behaved they are.

  She shrugs at his explanation about the creepy-crawlies. "Perhaps. Or the fact that they are put together differently than any other creature on the whole of the earth. There is that," she adds, amusedly.