"Rest and Reunion" Log Date: 3/29/03 Log Cast: Rumor, Oriolle Log Intro: Peace, at last. After years of being trapped in the hidden forest grove where the mad Firstborn Doreel was master, with the soul of the slain Wolfrider Thicket trapped within her body, the elf maiden Oriolle has finally come back to the plains where she was born. She has been led there by the mystic Suntop, and upon her arrival has found much to her wonder the Palace of the High Ones itself. But she's also found something else, something far dearer: Her long-lost lifemate. With Suntop's aid, Thicket's soul has been liberated into the Palace, and with her lifemate keeping vigil over her, Ree has experienced the first true rest and peace she has known for as long as she can clearly remember. Now she awakes, to begin to answer Rumor's countless questions... and to seek further peace in her beloved's arms.... ---------- Side Hall - Palace The appearance of this chamber is much different than the rest of the Palace. The walls are made of the same pale purplish-pink stone. Like the rest of the Palace, the ceiling is high and arched, and the walls are covered in beautiful filigree. The thing that seperates this from the rest of the Palace is that there are piles of pelts layed upon the floor. It has a much more earthy feel about it and smells the wolves that have stayed here in the past. Contents: Rumor Ember's Tent (#10475JOUe$) Obvious exits: Dark Passage Out Rumor hovers. He's good at hovering. He's good at sitting in one place and just watching. He does that now, sitting near enough as Oriolle sleeps that he'll hear the first whimper or whisper, but not so near as to disturb her. He doesn't mean to disturb her sleep, at any rate. And yet he doesn't want to be so far away that he can't sit and study her. Aureole, so changed. He crouches over his heels, walking stick planted against the floor to help him keep his balance, mouth against an arm and eyes on the sleeper. Unaware in sleep as she is, she might almost be a different elf entirely. She is taller. Thinner, and dramatically so, to the point of fragility and beyond--despite her increased height, she weighs next to nothing. Her scent is different, and so is her skin, which for all that it shows recent sunburning has been rendered almost uncannily lucent, as though starlight rather than blood flows within her veins. Hair that had once been silver-white now is true silver... and the eyes that had looked upon the elf once known as Briarcatch aren't blue anymore. They're green as leaves, larger than they used to be. And yet, the send had been Ree's. There are no nightmares. She sleeps with an almost desperate relief, like one who has latched onto the first restful sleep she has had in decades. Ree sleeps for a day, a night... and it is well into the second day when she finally and without fanfare opens her eyes. Rumor lifts his head as sharply as if she'd cried out. The staff is lowered and set aside, and he leans forward, over his toes and onto his knees. "Ree?" Quiet question, careful question. "Aureole, are you ... well?" She half-bolts up, disoriented... until she latches upon the voice. And then, with a little cry, the maiden launches herself against Rumor and wraps her too-thin arms about him, burying her face against his shoulder. ** OH High Ones Briarcatch I thought you were dead I thought you were dead I thought I was dreaming I thought-- ** And with that, her sending dissolves into an incoherent, unfocused joy that carries about it the same almost desperate relief her delicate features had displayed in her slumber. The sending... oh yes, it's still Ree's. Though at close range, at full strength, it peals with a clarity it hadn't had before. Rumor's off-guard for one moment, then he curls his arms around her shoulders and tucks her closer to his chest. Eyes closed, he bows his head and sends with as great a sense of relief. ** You didn't dream it, and I'm I'm not dead. And neither are you. I thought I'd lost you. ** Those thin shoulders shiver, but Ree's embrace does not lessen in the slightest. Nor does she lift her head, though she does turn it slightly so that she may breathe more easily, even as her sending rolls over the other elf. Her mate. She'd forgotten her own mate. Reminded of this, she squeezes him more tightly; wetness trickles from her closed eyes. ** I-I did lose you, I forgot your name... I forgot _my_ name... I-I would have been lost if Thicket hadn't been in my head! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-- ** ** Sorry? Sorry for what? You don't have to be sorry, Ree. Don't be. Please? ** He curls his arms more tightly around her, too. ** It's all right now. I found you. You found me. You don't have to be sorry. ** He wants to ask. That's palapable, in the background of that send. He wants to ask, and doesn't know how. Now she does raise her head, the background of that sending and more niggling at her. With strangely knowing eyes, she lifts tentative hands to her long-lost lifemate's face, touching each cheek as if she cannot quite believe in the reality of his physical presence. ** So worried... ** It's almost a whisper. Almost dreamy, even, though her eyes are far too grave for that. And wet, too, for her tears well up anew for that _worry_ she can feel, washing in over her own emotions. ** You're so worried, beloved... I made you worry... ** ** For you. ** Rumor summons a very faint smile. Blue eyes are darkened by emotion, but dry for not. ** I'm worried for you. What happened to you, with Suntop... ** He shakes his head a little. ** You've slept for more than a day. ** ** It's all right, ** sends Ree, gently--and this is with utmost assurance and a clarity to those newly green eyes, behind their tears. ** Thicket's gone now. I didn't need her anymore... she's resting. ** And the she-elf glances up into the air, nodding her tousled silver head at nothing in particular before looking back earnestly to her mate. ** I heard her. When I slept. ** Rumor glances up as well, just for a moment, then he's studying his lifemate's face again. ** Suntop said that she didn't belong. That she was stuck in you. ** Which he doesn't quite understand. ** It's better that she's here now. Where she belongs. And you... ** There's a little smile again. ** We're together again. ** ** She tried to save me, ** Ree explains soberly, answering a question that hadn't been asked. ** She was killed. And she still tried to save me. But she came... into me. I remember that now. ** Her lips quirk up on either end, an uncertain but affirmative smile, and as she makes it she leans her forehead against her beloved's. ** We are...! We're together...! ** ** I missed you. ** That's so quiet, it's a whisper, something that might have slipped from him unintentionally, if there wasn't such an ache behind it. ** I looked, Ree. I looked everywhere. I came here, because I thought maybe... ** He leaves that bit unsent, and lifts his head, then a hand, to touch her cheek. ** And you've changed. ** Little smile. ** Again. ** The ache... it touches her just like the worry had, palpably enough that Ree takes in a tiny startled breath. Emotions are clearer to her now... and it seems that this applies to one of the few elves she can clearly remember, her long-lost mate, even more than it's done with the strangers that have surrounded her for the last many moons. But then her lower lip tucks in under her teeth, and her eyes turn plaintive. A pause. ** I... didn't think... I looked right. I saw... my face in a river. On my way here... ** ** It's not wrong. ** That denial is so quick that he catches himself off-guard, and amends, ** It's not ... I can still see you, Ree. You're still there. But some things are ... changed. Your eyes were blue. I remember them. And your hair... ** He reaches for a lock, to let it slip through his fingers. Her hair has changed in more than just color. It seems almost alive, clinging softly and wrapping about the finger through which it runs--and moreover, there's just so _much_ of it, as if a great deal of Ree's substance has been pulled out into her hair. Tendrils of it have come loose from what was probably a braid at some point, and now hang loosely across her face. Through them, she studies Rumor anxiously as she send-murmurs, ** Changed... yes. He changed me. The strangers in the desert said that he changed me. ** Rumor frowns faintly. ** Strangers in the desert. What strangers? ** He hesitates, then as if by accident, he asks, ** Where were you, Ree? Where have you been? ** There's an immediate ** ** and he 'whispers', ** You don't have to answer. ** Her hands reach for both of Rumor's, cradling them close. Her eyes never leave his face. ** In the Grove, ** she send-murmurs. ** I was... in the Grove. _His_ Grove. ** She does not specify a name, and there is a shadow of fear across her eyes for a moment... but a strange uncertain regret as well. ** Until the strangers came and got me out. They were Wolfriders... and they took me to Sorrow's End. They tried to heal me, there. ** His Grove. Rumor shakes his head again. He takes a breath to ask another question ... and stops himself again. ** The grove. ** There's memory stirring behind his eyes. ** The ... when you came back to the canyon before, do you remember? The same grove, Ree? ** And there, a hint of anger, though it's not directed at her, not at all. Still, the anger does cause a great concern to ripple across her face, and newly dainty features crumple somewhat. ** He said... I was the one who Returned, ** she sends, very tinily, her lower lip still tucked beneath her teeth. A beat. Two. And then, new tears dampen her eyes, which squeeze shut. ** I... don't... remember a canyon. ** Poor elves. Anger is overriden by that ache again, and Rumor gathers her into his arms, bows his head over hers and closes his eyes again. ** You remember, ** he sends, and with it come the images: The red-gold of the bluff that overlooks the fire pit. The wind-worn logs that elves used to sit and lean against. The cave that was home, safe and familiar, with the almost-musty scent of wolves, and the thick pile of furs where they slept. It's not a command to remember. It's a hope that she will. With the stream of images Ree shudders deeply, nestling in as much as she can to that protective embrace. She drinks in the sending with a palpable, almost physical thirst, and begins to send in reply; at first it's a humble acknowledgement that much within her has been blurred. But she hasn't lost it all. The wide open skies of the Plains have never left her. Nor had the sight of wind upon the grass, or the stars blazing in their glory at night, or the unpredictable fierceness of a plains snowstorm. ** Sometimes... I couldn't remember if... it was Thicket remembering or me.... but I remembered your scent, beloved... ** Rumor puts his nose in her hair and curls her even closer. ** That was home, Ree. That was our home. ** There's another wash of relief. ** You remembered me. Soulweaver used to say that a scent was a memory. If you remembered that, then you remembered me. ** ** Soulweaver... ** The name comes out of Ree unsurely, even as the mention of her washes across her mind, along with the relaying of what she'd said about scents. She considers, and then turns her face towards Rumor's neck, breathing in the scent of him for a few seconds before she finally timidly confesses, ** I... can't... get your scent... it... doesn't feel as strong as it should...? ** Rumor's brow furrows. ** I've been traveling, ** he offers. ** And this place, the Palace. ** Another glance upward. ** Maybe that's why. But I don't know. ** Careful, wry reminder: ** I never had your nose for smelling things. ** Ree tries to smile, but doesn't quite pull it off, as she looks up again. ** I... had a sharp nose before? I... kept remembering hunting. But Thicket remembered hunting, too. So I couldn't tell which of us it was... and... ** She pauses, tilting her head thoughtfully, thinking very hard. ** I... think she was a Wolfrider, yes. A Wolfrider. ** Thicket. The whole notion of another elf, or an elf's soul, being stuck in Ree's body is just ... troubling. Rumor's just not ready, or willing, to look at that. So he sends, ** -You- were a wolfrider. Part wolfrider. Your sire, Ree, do you remember him? ** Dark-haired, amber-eyed Blackmorn. Solemn, silent Wolfrider. That's how Rumor sends those memories. Ree draws in another soft breath, and her eyes go wide; she straightens, though she does not pull out of her lifemate's arms. ** Father, ** she sends softly on top of that inhalation, her eyes still very full, though she's stopped crying at least for the moment. ** I... saw... that face as I slept...! ** Curiously, that earns relief from Rumor too. ** I wondered if he was here, ** he confesses. ** I didn't look. But I know Starwing is here. Your mother. Did you see her, too? ** Fair-haired, bright-eyed Starwing. Sad Starwing. No, that's Rumor's emotion, not hers. Ree's eyes turn knowing again, and she stares long and searchingly at her beloved as if something about him has caught her anew. Her mouth opens silently, then closes... and then she sends, very gently, ** I saw her. ** Rumor nods a little, and this smile is more genuine. It's all right, that's what that means. ** You are a wolfrider, like him. And a plainsrunner, like her. Like me." He ducks his head to put his forehead against hers. ** You're Ree. My Aureole. ** The name. It strikes her as nothing else has done, and Ree begins to tremble in the embrace. ** My... name... I forgot my name... he changed it... everyone... ** Her shivering increases, and a memory flashes out of her all at once, an ancient, sad-eyed face murmuring gently to her. Calling her 'Oriolle'. ** Everyone... in Sorrow's End... had it... skewed. ** Rumor holds her tighter, like he could absorb those shivers. ** Aureole, ** he sends again, quiet. ** It isn't a desert name. Maybe they misunderstood. ** His send quiets again, and he murmurs, like a promise, ** You're Aureole. Ree. No matter who's changed you, you're Ree. ** The tears come again, quietly, without effort, but they come nevertheless. Ree looks down at herself, sadly, lifting a delicate hand and turning it about, studying it. ** I remembered Ree, ** she muses. ** Aureole... Oriolle... they... n-neither one feels like... ** Abruptly, she lifts that same hand and scrubs it across her eyes. ** So many names in my head and none of them feel right anymore.... ** Rumor holds out a hand, palm up, with an invitation. She can rest her hand there, delicate as it is, and paler than his. ** Maybe it's time to find a new one. ** There's a faint thread of humor. ** All of us go on Walkabout, love. Some of us take longer than the rest to finish. ** That actually makes her _laugh_, a choked little burst of laughter that sounds just a touch hysterical... but it's laughter nevertheless. And it kindles a spark of something that might even be hope in her liquid leaf-hued eyes. ** Walkabout. I remember Walkabout now! ** [The log was never finished, as Rumor had to scram.]