Log Date: 12/15/99 Log Cast: Summit, Areelia, Wayfound, Jasmael, Trollkiller, Calmwind, Woodhawk (emitted by Trollkiller), Rainfire (emitted by Trollkiller), Tsoran, Teliron Log Intro: A small gaggle of now-homeless Willowholters have been given shelter by the most unlikely of sources: the Gliders of Blue Mountain, who have sent in Chosen to transport them away from what's left of their flooded-out Holt and brought them to take refuge inside the Mountain. Although they are safe enough now, the Willowholters are nevertheless still thoroughly worried about their unaccounted-for tribesmates... and the knowledge that half the tribe is still missing wears greatly upon their tempers. Young Wayfound in particular has found her temper frayed when Rainfire -- a hunter who has been absent from the Willowholt for longer than she's been alive -- has criticized her curiosity about friendly humans allegedly living within the Mountain and serving the Gliders. But even as the Willowholt refugees strive to get what rest they can in the Hall in which they've been permitted to camp, some of the Gliders prove curious about them... ---------- Summit prys himself up slowly, his expression one of grogginess that comes with the deepest of sleeps. He finally manages to get one eye open, then the other, yawning loudly. Areelia walks down the stairs from above. Areelia has arrived. Summit is sitting up, seeming a little groggy. At the moment, he's rubbing at his eyes, trying to get them to focus. Like many of her kind, Areelia glides, into the southern hall she moves. Her helmet is absent from her, and her silver braids hang down, free of her bun. Her features are a mask, no emotions escaping them. Summit manages to focus on the floating figure entering the room. He remains silent, watching it...her...quietly. Areelia raises a brow at the child, "Aren't you a tiny little wolf." Summit smiles slightly, then wrinkles his nose, "I'm not a wolf." Areelia glides slowly towards Summit, "Then what are you?" A number of the Willowholters are either wolfnapping or quietly occupying themselves at this and that small task; however, Wayfound appears to have been for some time determined to keep a bit of distance between herself and her tribesmates. The chieftain's daughter is parked crosslegged at the base of a column not too far away, doggedly working at inspecting the repairs that the Gliders have effected upon her little jacket. She glances up at Areelia's arrival... but today, the voluble young she-elf is holding her tongue. Summit sniffles a bit, rubbing his nose, "I'm a elf." His head titlts back more and more as the tall glider approaches, "What're you?" Areelia doesn't seem to notice Wayfounds glance as she lowers herself, feet settling on the ground, "A Chosen." Summit crosses his legs, setting his elbows on his knees, his chin on his fists. "A chosen what?" A familiar figure slips out of one of the shadowed passageways, an elf for whom gliding is not a possibility. But catching sight of the situation, she smiles, moving over to the other side of that column that Wayfound is beside, and then walking around it to end up behind the cub. ** Hello, ** comes a send from that one, Jasmael, to the smaller elf. "Greetings, Jasmael," Wayfound gruffly replies, without looking up from the narrowed gaze she's training upon the fine stitchery that has been applied to the repairs in her leathers. Areelia crouches down, "A Chosen of the Lord." She says, her forearms resting upon her knees as she watches Summit. Summit's attention is diverted briefly by the send. He glances over toward the cub that is slightly older then he, and up to the adult elf, curious. His head swivels back to regard Areelia as she answers, "Who is the Lord? And can I be one?" Jasmael smiles, fingers lightly brushing the small cub's hair. ** What're you looking at so intently that it might hold all of the answers in the world? ** Areelia raises a silvery brow at Summit, "Lord Winnowill. And no, you can't be one too." Summit ohs, his expression solemn. "Winnowill. I've heard that name." Areelia nods, "She's the Lord here. And I'm one of her Chosen." Wayfound subtly stiffens, peering up at the older she-elf now, a flicker of surprise crossing her otherwise stoic features; perhaps she hadn't expected being touched? Or perhaps she's surprised at being questioned. She doesn't clarify which, however, as she stares up at Jasmael with a piercing gaze. "I am studying the material used to repair my leathers," she finally answers. Summit ohs quietly, then pipes up gently, "I have a Lord. But she's called a Chief. Her name is Rillwhisper...but she isn't here." He glances around, letting out a sigh as he does so. Areelia raises a brow, "Uh huh.." She says, then offers a pale hand to the boy, "Has anyone showed you around here yet?" Summit glances from the pale elf's face, to the pale hand, "No," he murmurs, raising his tiny paw and sliding it into Areelia's hand. He stands slowly. Wayfound's ambergreen stare flashes sidelong in Summit's direction, and her lip juts out a little further at the mention of her mother's name. And at the apparent impending chance being offered the younger cub at a look around the place. But she says absolutely nothing, and slams her attention hard right back down to the jacket she's still clutching in her small hands. ** Ah, is it so unusual that it holds so much interest for you? ** replies the older elf as she kneels down beside the cub, leaning over to glance at the repaired portion as well. Areelia nods to Summit, then easily draws the boy up with aid of her gliding magic, "Well. I'll show you around then." She says, starting off in one direction, her feet never touching the floor as she moves. Grudgingly, Wayfound looks at Jasmael once again, a hint of surprise and disbelief at this expressed interest coloring her stare. "The... material is not in itself unusual," she replies reluctantly, "as it appears to be leather, albeit of a more finely tanned sort than the hide from which my jacket was constructed. Moreover--" But then, the lass cuts herself off, visibly. Summit stares up at the tall elf that leads him away from the others, being that he's floating doesn't seem to bother him much. "I'm Summit. Do you have a name?" ** Moreover? ** asks Jasmael with a curiosity expressed. But not truly in the fabric, but in the cubling who would put on such an adult face at so young an age; almost the opposite of No-Fur when he was that young. Areelia nods to Summit, "Areelia." She says, "How old are you?" Summit puffs out his chest, calmly presenting, "Nine turns..." Areelia heads north into the cavernous hall, fading into distant darkness. Areelia has left. Rather than answering that question, Wayfound abruptly demands, "What is the purpose of your inquiry?" Is that suspicion in the youngster's eyes? Summit heads north into the cavernous hall, fading into distant darkness. Summit has left. ** Curiosity, cub. It holds such an interest for you, I thought I might find something interesting in it as well, ** answers Jasmael, a gentle smile in the older elf's expression. Warily, Wayfound replies, "I am interested by a great many things, but it has been my observation that very few in the tribe place any importance in it." She keeps staring hard at her Fire-father's daughter, trying to figure out why she appears to be different. Then, just as reluctantly as before, she adds, "Given that I am restrained from conducting observations about our surroundings past the range of sight of my fathers, I have settled for at least attempting to study the differences in Glider stitchery compared to that of our tribe. I have observed everything I can with the samples at hand, however, and will be unable to draw any further conclusions without speaking with the elf whose work this is." Jasmael nods again. ** In other words, you're studying it so intently, because you've already looked at everything else you can see, ** suggests the older elf, an amused tone in her sending. There is no jealousy in Wayfound's voice or expression, either -- but still, even as she mentions her having been ordered to stay within sight of Trollkiller and Woodhawk, she can be seen to glance after Summit. Who's wandered off alone, with a Glider. But when Jasmael sends, the youngling looks back and nods, still wary. "That is... an adequate description of the situation," she allows. Trollkiller yawns large, awakening. He doesn't look all that well-rested. Calmwind finally rises from his furs again, where he's been doing his own sulk. He's apparently started chewing on his nails. A glance around the room to take in the situation and then a thorough shake, and he pauses. To Trollkiller's left, Woodhawk lies still asleep, his face troubled from bad dreams. Trollkiller leans over and brushes his face, gently, fingertips across cheek, lips across forehead, and he sooths just a little bit, rolling over to sleep more soundly again. Trollkiller checks also on Rainfire, still asleep to his right; Rainfire is buried face-down into the blankets and furs, and Trollkiller lets him stay there alone, for now. That done, he looks up as he hears Brightmark - no, she uses Jasmael now - and Wayfound talking, and carefully slips from between his lifemate and lover to stand. Jasmael nods to the cub, then glances over to where Trollkiller is awakening, with a faint smile. ** Good morning, Fuzzy. ** Wayfound's gaze shoots up, and she swiftly tamps down upon a tangled surge of reactions within her, allowing nothing but stoic calm into her expression as she calls over, "Greetings, Fur-father." Trollkiller pads over and nuzzles Wayfound, and Jasmael. ** Morning? Is it day? ** Wayfound, it seems, is willing enough to accept nuzzles from Trollkiller; she returns them, too, though her attention drops back to down to the jacket still resting within her lap. "It is impossible to make a suitable conclusion from this chamber, unfortunately," she mutters. Calmwind looks curiously at Wayfound talking to Jasmael and Trollkiller and then looks up at the ceiling again. "Where else can we go," he wonders. Trollkiller nods and looks around. ** Everyone just waking up, then? ** He winces just a bit. Insofar as there's a lot of everyone to awaken. Calmwind's voice draws Wayfound's attention, and for a moment or two, the child's expression eases a little. "Hello," she calls out, her voice small. Wayfound adds, almost awkwardly, "I have been awake for some time, Fur-father." Calmwind turns his attention back to Wayfound and sends a bright greeting to her. "Do you think we can hunt?" He continues his wondering. "Or is that forbidden because of the humans?" Trollkiller sends openly ** Jasmael, do you know what's going on outside? We're... so far away from anything, I can't tell. Have the floods receeded at all? Are there more storms? ** Wayfound's mouth quirks into something that might almost be a smile as Calmwind sends to her, but then her attention drops back down to her jacket, and she pokes at some of the new patching in its back, with just one finger. The action might almost look cublike, for her. ** I've been awake for a while myself, and it is day, ** Jasmael replies, returning a fond nuzzle to the older elf. ** As for the storms and flooding back home, I don't know. The weather here around the Mountain's been much calmer. ** Trollkiller sends, ** I'll go find out... ** And he sighs, having heard more of Wayfound's conversation, before, than one might have thought. He looks to her. ** Wayfound... I was keeping you within sight distance because were were on an island that was about to wash away. For now, I want to keep everyone together - but you may go anywhere any other of the Willowholt go, as long as it's agreeable to our... hosts. ** He looks up to Jasmael. ** You live here much of the time... would you perhaps... let her see more than just this cavern? ** Wayfound blinks and looks up in apparent shock, eyes going wide in her little face. Her mouth opens, and then closes, and finally she mumbles, "Ah... thank you, Fur-father!" Trollkiller sends, ** I need to find out who would know about any search efforts. But... I don't know anything about this place. Much. The last time I came near here, they wouldn't let me near the door. Now they're rescuing us and ... all. I'm... ** He shakes his head, and refocuses. ** Search parties. Find out about search parties. ** "I would suggest, Fur-father," murmurs Wayfound, "that you inquire of the Chosen Eight, as they are the ones permitted to ride the great hawks, and such beasts will be necessary to reach the remains of our Holt in a timely fashion." Jasmael nods to Trollkiller. ** Grandmother would know more about what is going on with the search. While I can guide the hawks... I don't exactly have permission, and most won't let me near them. Talon only did because Aroree was there, ** she send-murmurs. Calmwind listens quietly, flashing a smile at Wayfound when her fur-father gives her permission to explore. There's certainly things he'd like to look for. Then he focuses his attention on Trollkiller, and the search parties. Trollkiller sends, ** I've dealt with a few of them before... the eight, I mean, not the hawks. ** He turns to Jasmael. ** Grandmother. ** He shakes his head. It's hard for him to go right up to the opposite chieftan and talk. ** Jasmael, you... know many of the customs here? Their 'way'? How do you go to a Glider chieftan in a situation like this? ** Areelia enters from the main hall. Areelia has arrived. Summit enters from the main hall. Summit has arrived. Summit is sitting contently in Areelia's arms, his tiny arms around her neck. Areelia glides into the hall once more, "Now the forest?" ** Politely, ** comes the answer from Jasmael. ** I'll ask her what of any news is available, or if I can take you out to see what's happening. Failing that, if I can go out myself to see. ** Tsoran walks down the stairs from above. Tsoran has arrived. Calmwind notes the arrival of one of the Gliders who helped in the search, one of the Eight, he thinks, and clearly considers going to talk to her. He lingers, though, listening to Jasmael and Trollkiller's conversation. Trollkiller blinks. Tsoran. Summit glances toward the sleeping form of her mother, then shakes his head, trying to wiggle out of Areelia's arms, "Nah, I wanna be here, case she wakes up. Kay?" Tsoran is actually walking down the stairs, rather than gliding. He looks somewhat grouchy, but that's nothing new. Areelia nods to Summit and releases the boy, careful not to let him plummit to the cold stones. Though she does lower him. Tsoran sends openly ** Areelia. Jasmael. ** He adds after a moment. ** Visitors. ** Wayfound is no longer studying her jacket -- but, quite uncharacteristically, she's still keeping her mouth shut. She does glance once, hopefully, at Calmwind at the notion of exploring... but she's not interrupting her elders, not now. Areelia glances towards Tsoran, nodding to the other Chosen. Summit takes a moment to glance up at the newly arrived glider, then bounds over toware Wayfound, plopping down beside her. Trollkiller looks to Areelia, and steps forward to meet her. ** You were at the rescue. Thank you for helping save us. ** Jasmael nods up at the incoming Glider. ** Tsoran. How're you this morning? ** Areelia glances towards Trollkiller and nods, ** You are very welcome. Is there anything you need? ** Trollkiller sends, ** I'd like to find out whether the storms are over, and whether the floodwaters have receeded. We want to look for our missing as soon as possible. ** Calmwind moves to crouch on the other side of Wayfound, greeting Summit. ** What did you discover, Summit? ** You sense in a locksend, Summit seems very confused and relieved to be sitting near you ** That chosen glider is weird. ** Areelia nods to Trollkiller, ** You may pick one of your number to accompany me back to look. ** Tsoran gives a one-sided shrugh at Jasmael. "Well enough. Dusk and Midnight are resting." Wayfound blinks, twice, as Summit sits down beside her. She then gives him a very close stare, her eyebrows rising over her big ambergreen eyes in a manner reminiscent of her mother. You locksend to Summit, Wayfound tentatively sends back a bit of awkward assurance, surprised at your proximity. She's not exactly accustomed to her presence being a source of relief, but your sending is gratefully accepted. ** Weird in what fashion? ** Trollkiller looks around. Cubs, no. Rainfire, Woodhawk, no. Jasmael - he wants someone around who the cubs can stay near and who also knows the Mountain. That doesn't leave a lot of options. ** I... think it'd have to be me, for now. ** Jasmael nods towards Tsoran, then looks back to Trollkiller. ** You should go with her. ** Areelia nods, ** Very well. Tell me when you wish to go. ** Wayfound snaps her head up, paying sharper attention to what the adults are doing, a flare of hope in her eyes before she realizes that her younger father isn't about to let her go on the search expedition herself. Visibly, her little shoulders sag. Summit scratches the back of his neck as he regards all the adults sending. He looks back to Wayfound, offering a shrug as he sends to her. Trollkiller smiles half a smile. ** As soon as you're ready, and I've told Woodhawk. ** Summit locksends ** She just is. But there's a pretty egg here. You should go see it. ** Areelia nods, ** I'm free now." Wayfound's attention flickers between Trollkiller and Summit, but she appears to have no difficulty listening to both. Something makes her blink again at the younger cub, however. Calmwind hugs his knee. ** We can go look around ourselves, ** he sends to the two younger elves. His gaze is distant, wary, though, and he keeps his eyes on the ground. Trollkiller pads over to the lifemate who isn't missing, nuzzles him awake, and lets him know what's going on. Woodhawk begins to protest, and there's a brief and briefly sharp exchange of sends - after which Woodhawk nods, glancing at Wayfound. ** I'll tell Woodhawk when he awakens, Fuzzy, ** offers Jasmael, the look of disappointment in Wayfound's face and body not lost on her. Tsoran is watching the children rather thoughtfully. Summit glances to Calmwind, curiously, then looks back to Wayfound. Trollkiller returns to Areelia. ** Then, it may as well be now. Once we've checked over the conditions, we can come back with more people for a real ground search. ** Areelia nods, then starts for the stairs, ** This way. ** You locksend ** ** to Summit. Trollkiller follows after Areelia, up the stairwell. ** We'll be back as soon as we see what there is to see. ** Wayfound pipes up, anxiously, "I trust that you will be cautious, Fur-father, but neverhteless I feel compelled to request it of you..." Wayfound rises to her feet, the better to let her voice carry. Summit swivels his head to regard Trollkiller as Wayfound addresses him. Tsoran sends openly ** Our Lord has commanded that you will be taken care of. There is nothing to fear, child. ** Trollkiller looks back at Wayfound. ** We'll be careful. ** Calmwind looks up at Tsoran. ** Can your Lord protect them outside the Mountain? ** The girl-cub glances at Tsoran, not missing his sending, but still most of her attention's on her befurred younger father. Slowly, she nods, accepting that for the time being. You locksend to Trollkiller, Wayfound sends, a swift wordless flare of worry and farewell. Jasmael turns back to Wayfound with a light smile. ** Would you like to see something that I think you'll like? ** You sense in a locksend, Trollkiller sends back a touch - as much as he can muster - of reassuredness that he'll be back. Areelia moves up the staircase to the west. Areelia has left. Trollkiller moves up the staircase to the west. Trollkiller has left. Summit pipes up to Jasmael, "Yeah, show her the Egg!" With obvious reluctance, Wayfound turns away from her departing Fur-father, back around to face her two adult tribesmates and her fellow cubling. "Summit," she says gruffly, "has mentioned--" The boy, however, beats her to it, and she cuts herself off. Summit This little cub is growing up fast, with solemn curiosity that leads him to poking into everything, wide tan eyes peering at everything. His hair makes him look something like a devious dandilion, a short mane of curls so dark they look black in anything but direct light which reveals their inherent brownness. He currently dons a patchwork of multicolored scraps around his waste and a sturdy pair of dark brown boots adorn his feet. Due to the colder climate here in the mountain, he's added a jacket, similar to the wrap he wears around his waiste, to keep him warm. Jasmael chuckles, lightly ruffling Wayfound's hair again as the surprise she'd had in mind is revealed by the other cub. ** Aye. ** "I must assume," come Wayfound's slightly bemused murmur, "that this is a distinctly unusual egg... have one of the hawks laid...?" Curiosity begins to kindle in her ambergreen eyes, wrestling against her painfully learned recent habits of reticence, not to mention the general oddity of the situation at large. Tsoran nods slightly. ** An excellent idea. Now, do excuse me. ** He heads off in the direction of Tenspans hall. Summit stands and walks over to his mother, curling near her for a bit of warmth. ** Don't say a word, Summit, ** sends Jasmael at him, lest he ruin the surprise further, though the amused tone in her sending and the grin on her face ruins any possibility that she might be scolding. Tsoran heads north into the cavernous hall, fading into distant darkness. Tsoran has left. Evidently the younger cub has no such ruining in mind, darting for his mother as he does, but Wayfound does eye him oddly as he abruptly abandons them. Then, she swallows once, turning back to Jasmael and Calmwind. Her gaze flickers to the later, with something that might almost be a hint of shy hopefulness. "Will you accompany us?" she inquires gravely of the latter elf. Calmwind looks at Jasmael and Wayfound, his green eyes dark as forestshadow, as Summit wanders away. Then he pushes himself to his feet again, almost ready to go back to his brooding furs when Wayfound's request pauses him. Just as gravely, he says, "I would be delighted, if I am welcome. There are things I would like to discover about this place, too." "I will find any observations you can make most welcome," Wayfound pipes. Her words are adult... but the tone, almost childlike once again. Jasmael smiles, and pushes herself on up to her feet. ** Well then, it'll be a pair of new discoveries instead of just one, ** she sends, beginning to move towards the northern portion of the hall. Calmwind takes a few long steps northbound and then pauses to wait for Wayfound. He doesn't have to wait for long. The youngster hastens into motion, wriggling into her little jacket as she goes. Wayfound's been itching for an opportunity like this, and her footsteps are lent speed and swiftness. Her attempt to maintain her composure is, nevertheless, quite palpable as she blurts, "If you would be so kind as to guide us, Jasmael..." Jasmael grins back at the cub who's trying to hide enthusiasm, then moves on into the northern portion of the hall. Jasmael heads north into the cavernous hall, fading into distant darkness. Jasmael has left. Calmwind heads north into the cavernous hall, fading into distant darkness. Calmwind has left. You move north, into the main hall. Main Hall The room rises up round, walls idle in their shape, with little regard to gravity, and fluid stone columns drip from the ceiling to floor, curving and twisting into deep blue shadows. The massive room is dim, lit only at the far side, where rises the skeleton of a great bird, hovering protectively over the throne of Blue Mountain's Lord. Deep, wide stairs rise up to greet the throne, stopping many feet below, leaving no evident manner of ascending the seat. From time to time, elves flit in and out, through hallways and through narrow, ribboned holes in the walls, high above the floor. Contents: Calmwind Jasmael Teliron Obvious exits: Into The Air Northeastern Hall Western Hall Southern Hall Jasmael moves along the edges of the hall from the southern portion, moving for the main passageway west with Calmwind and Wayfound in tow. Wayfound's maintaining -- more or less -- a stoic expression on her little face, but she can't quite hide the way her gaze darts sharply in all directions, trying to take in everything she sees as she strides along with the two older elves. This child does _not_ scamper; such is beneath her. But, still, something childlike lingers about the way she carries her slender little frame. Teliron looks at you for a moment. Telironsmiles in greeting Calmwind takes long slow steps, one who could move much more quickly, but is used to letting those with shorter legs keep up with him. He also looks everywhere at once, if that were possible. Jasmael nods in passing, then moves on through the west hallway. Jasmael disappears down a winding tunnel to the west. Jasmael has left. [And shortly, after the trio of elves cuts through the Western Hall...] You move down the dim northeastern hallway. Chamber of the Egg Somehow this room seems level while the rest of Blue Mountain is at a disturbing angle. Somehow the damage that has wracked the very foundation seems faltered before it hit this room. But it's only an illusion created by the tilted form of the large stone Egg floating in the center, twisting just a bit off its axis. Obviously the pillars here, majestic once perhaps, have crumbled and split. Obviously the walls here, once smooth, are riddled with curls just like on the Egg, as though this room was once part of the Egg, as though the Egg is inside itself. And you with it. The dizzying effect here makes you uncertain, but there seems to be only two ways that lead out into the more tangible halls of the Mountain. One leads 'out' to the western hall, the other 'northeast' to Tenspan's hall and the dining room. Contents: Jasmael Egg Obvious exits: Tenspan's Hall Western Hall Calmwind approaches from the southwestern exit. Calmwind has arrived. Jasmael moves into the hall of the Egg, and pauses near to the opening, holding her arms out as to signify it all. ** And here is 'The Egg'. ** Teliron approaches from the southwestern exit. Teliron has arrived. Teliron disappears towards the northeast. Teliron has left. Difficult though it's been for the last eight and four turns of the seasons to surprise Wayfound, _this_ is something that does it. The little elfling comes to a skidding halt at the sight of the massive stone structure before her, her jaw actually dropping, and for several seconds she simply stares. Finally, she breathes, "I... think... this must be an appropriate situation to utter one of the various curses... such as 'High Ones' or... 'Great Mother Moon'... yes?" Teliron emerges from a barely seen opening. Teliron has arrived. Teliron extracts himself from the unusual room. Teliron has left. Calmwind is certainly muttering something to himself. ** This is... ** and there's only blankness there. Tsoran emerges from a barely seen opening. Tsoran has arrived. Tsoran rejoins the little group after some while. Two out of three elves present are clearly thunderstruck, seeing the Egg for the first time in their comparatively young lives. Wayfound flashes a wide-eyed glance first to Calmwind and then to Jasmael, breaking her own paralysis by taking a few wary steps closer to the great floating shape. "I... do not trust... even my initial observations," she murmurs. "What is the purpose of this... object?" Jasmael smiles, looking between Calmwind and Wayfound. ** This is the beginning and the end, Wayfound. From the founding of the Mountain, Egg over there, ** she begins, motioning over to the statuesque elf sitting below the massive structure, ** records the passage of time and the events which happen. ** Wait a minute. There's an _elf_ over there? The cub's head swivels in that direction, and for a moment, she is torn between studying the Egg and studying its shaper. Finally, she opts for the latter, venturing closer to the motionless form seated at the shaping task. "He is a living elf," she breathes, less of a question than a voicing of a concept she's already grasped and is now trying to settle into her mind. "But he--" The child's gaze, even more piercing now, snaps back to Jasmael, and finds Tsoran's lingering form behind her. To both elves, now, she demands, "He is gray -- like stone!" Tsoran goes over to Egg, resting a hand on the back of his chair. "And quite fittingly so, child." Jasmael nods. ** Indeed he is. He is one with the stone of the Egg that he constantly shapes and reshapes, ** she replies, remembering how it happened to Gerren as well. ** Nothing exists other than the Egg, in his mind. It is his calling, and one he went to of his own will. ** Tsoran smiles faintly. "Or perhaps everything exists in his mind, as it is reflected in the Egg." Jasmael nods towards Tsoran. ** Aye. ** Not entirely convinced that this is a _good_ thing, Wayfound stares hard at the unmoving figure in the chair, marking his utter lack of response to Tsoran's proximity as well as her own. "He shows no awareness of our presence. He does not move... I cannot tell if he even breathes." Thoughtfully, she leans forward, her little nose crinkling as she tries to catch the elf's scent. "His scent is very faint... how..." Her gaze snaps back and forth again. "He does _nothing_ but shape... _that_?" And she points with a tiny finger up at the Egg. Tsoran says "Look more closely, child. The Egg is the sum of our knowledge. Study it for long enough, and you will learn... anything. Could there be a higher calling for a shaper than to maintain this?" Calmwind eventually remembers to move again, and tilts his head to listen to Wayfound's observations. The source of all memory is well and good, but not quite what he's looking for. Still, it can't hurt to observe for a while. Just a while. Jasmael nods again to the cub. ** That is all he does, and all he ever wishes to do. ** The sum of knowledge. That concept clearly strikes the child on some deep, profound level, her eyes turning round as she wrestles to absorb such a staggering notion. "I...," Wayfound rasps, her voice coming out tiny and hoarse as though her throat has just gone dry, "have... not yet observed enough to draw that conclusion. The shaper... he lives, he shapes, but does not move... h-h-how is such a thing accomplished? Does he answer sendings? Would he move if the Mountain fell down? How does he know what to shape...?" Questions start bursting from her like arrows shot from a bow, her tender years betraying themselves as her words tumble over one another. Tsoran murmurs, a shade of amusement in his eyes. "I suspect the answer to those questions, as well, would be found within the Egg." Jasmael nods towards Tsoran, having no better answers to the questions asked. ** He does not answer sendings, he has no true awareness of any of us, Wayfound. Or maybe he has more awareness of us than we can know. ** This line of questioning appearing to be fruitless for the time being, the child turns her attention to the shaper's work. Wayfound's tiny brow furrows as she pronounces, "I observe a great number of shapes across the Egg's surface... this _does_ appear to be a fairly efficient method of recording knowledge, assuming that it is known what each shape stands for..." Awestruck, she steps closer back to Calmwind, glancing up at him to gauge his reactions. "Have you... drawn any conclusions, thus far?" Calmwind hesitates, his eyes roving over the shapes on the Egg. "It is not something I understand.... it is silent." His eyes dart to the shaper. "Perhaps he simply listens... but where does he put all he hears? How is it translated from something living and breathing, live, to what twists within the rock?" His eyes are wide with self-inflicted confusion as he struggles to understand the Egg and what it signifies. Tsoran says "Breathing is not necessarily a proof of life. Or the opposite." Wayfound leans over, peering at the underside of the Egg -- and its lack of any obvious connection with the floor or any of the surrounding walls. "His supply of stone would appear to be limited," she murmurs to Calmwind. "If he has to reshape what stone he has, it would seem inaccurate to consider the work the sum of _all_ knowledge, but perhaps he reshapes a particular symbol, if someone looks for it...?" Tsoran says "I must see to Darkwing." He nods politely to the others. "Until later." Tsoran extracts himself from the unusual room. Tsoran has left. Wayfound blinks at Tsoran, her attention snapping back, but by the time she hears him speak, he's gone. Calmwind suggests, "Perhaps he makes the images smaller as he has more to add?" Calmwind adds, blinking at himself, "And perhaps he keeps the knowledge in himself and can reshape the stone to display what somebody seeks?" The idea seems very large to him. Jasmael lightly sets her hand on Wayfound's head, motioning up into the Egg. ** Look closer, as well. Beyond the surface, underneath the lattice. ** Another layer, beneath the outside. And glimpses of one below that, as well. A gasp escapes the elfling, as she does in fact espy that second layer and a hint of the third. "How... very extraordinary," she whispers. ** One could lose themselves in study of the Egg for eights of turns, just trying to understand it all... ** Jasmael sends, her voice one of personal experience. Calmwind says curiously, "What have you learned from it, Jasmael?" Jasmael smiles vaguely at that question. ** My name. ** Well, _that_ doesn't make a bit of sense. "You had to look at _that_," Wayfound asks, her fine pale brows shooting up, "to learn your name? I would assume you do _not_ refer to the name of Brightmark..." Jasmael nods to Wayfound, with a soft chuckle. ** My name among the Gliders is from the Egg. ** Wayfound ohs. "I had, admittedly, wondered why Fur-father addresses you in one manner and those who reside here another." She casts a thoughtful glance up at the Egg. "The shaper, therefore, gave you this new name?" ** That I'm not sure about, ** Jasmael send-murmurs as she looks up at the Egg. ** Whether or not it was a name some other Glider had eights of eights of turns ago, or if the theories are right that you can even find events which have yet to happen in the Egg. When I needed to choose a name for within the Mountain, I found it here. ** "'Brightmark' did not suffice?" asks the child, brows rising again. Jasmael smiles slightly. ** I chose it for Gerren, my Recognized. At the time I'd intended to stay in the Mountain with him for as long as I could. Try my best to *become* a Glider, for him. ** Wayfound considers this, in deep musing thought. "Recognition _does_ appear to be a powerful enough force to provoke such a thing," she murmurs. A gentle shake of her head is the answer to that. ** It wasn't because of Recognition, Wayfound. It was because I loved him, ** Jasmael sends, eyes upon the slowly-turning Egg. "That... appears to be a similarly powerful force," Wayfound answers. Abruptly, the little one manages to let through a hint of dazed overwhelmedness through her otherwise stoic expression. "Do you think... it would be all right if I just sat and thought for a bit?" This last question appears to be intended for both her companions, not just Jasmael. Calmwind has been staring at the Egg until his head aches, and then staring some more. He rouses himself enough to send, ** I will stay with you, yes yes. Although-- later... ** there is curiousity at whatever conclusions Wayfound will come to. Jasmael gently ruffles at Wayfound's hair. ** Of course, cub. I'll stay nearby to keep watch, and make sure our father won't be unnecessarily concerned. ** She smiles towards Calmwind as well. The elfling's expression relaxes ever so slightly, in that manner it appears to do whenever Calmwind seems to encourage the activity of her thoughts. She flashes him a grateful glance, though she still appears to be unaccustomed to this hair-ruffling habit Jasmael seems to have. Slowly, carefully, she then sits down at Calmwind's side, drawing her knees up to her chin. You locksend to Calmwind, Wayfound, observing the depth of your contemplation, doesn't actually try to send any words... but her youthful thoughts linger on the edge of your own, drawn by their familiarity in the midst of all this strangeness about her. [To be continued...]