"The Sadness of the Shaper" Log Date: 4/5, 4/6/03 Log Cast: Oriolle, Rayek Log Intro: Now that the soul of the Wolfrider Thicket has been liberated from her, now that she has been reunited with her long-lifemate Briarcatch--even if he uses another name now--Ree has begun to recover from the ordeal she has undergone at the hands of the Firstborn Doreel. Thicket's memories remain in her head... but they are only memories now, distinguishable from her own, and no longer threaten to blur the lines of her sense of Self. Moreover, her lifemate has begun the patient, gentle task of helping her reassemble what's left of her own recollections, reminding her of the life they'd once led as Plainsrunner scouts. And for the first time in a long time, Ree has begun to feel truly safe. And even if she can only half-remember what her 'Self' feels like, she has begun to feel it again. But the ordeal she has undergone cannot help but garner the attention of others--especially Rayek, who is all too familiar with the ways that a powerful Shaper can twist the mind and body. Determined to learn what he can about the elf who had caused a second soul to be trapped within her and who had molded her body and her dreams to the whims of his mad dreaming, the airwalker seeks Ree out to question her about what she recollects.... ---------- 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: Rayek(#3218PJXace$0) Fluffy Ember's Tent (#10475JOUe$) Obvious exits: Dark Passage Out It's been days on end... quiet days, for once, peaceful ones, for which Ree is grateful... that she's spent quietly walking about the Palace's halls. Rumor is generally never far from her side, but even the most diligent of guards and lifemates must sometimes sleep. And the Plainsrunner sleeps now, leaving a wakeful Ree at loose ends as she wanders about the chamber in which she and the lifemate with whom she has been reunited have been taking their slumber. Her green gaze tracks ceaselessly through the air, and every so often she rubs her hands along her thin arms as though she might be cold... though it's the aura of magic rather than anything so prosaic as temperature that raises all her senses. The place veritably _shines_ with magic, and try as she might, Ree cannot remember ever having felt anything like it. Not even the Grove. Rayek wanders the chambers of the Palace himself, quite often. Not with the same sense of wonder, however. Awe remains, resurfaces from time to time, but the dark-skinned elf knows these walls well. This is home, and there is a certain comfort in the occasional brush of a curious soul. It's curiosity that guides his feet to the chamber the Plainsrunners occupy. Curiosity, and a niggling concern that will not truly rest. These things lead him to pause by the doorway, listening for a moment, before he turns and slips inside. Rather than disturb with a direct send, he simply announces himself, quiet and watches the maiden explore the room. Rayek The first impression must be of great height, because he is tall, there are no ways around that. Glider-tall and willow-thin, with a curious sort of grace that comes of careful gestures and long, refined lines. Rich brown skin is smooth and unmarked, punctuated -- no, contrasted -- by narrow amber eyes. Raven black hair spills over his shoulders and down his back, unhindered save the headband that keeps heavy locks away from his face. He wears an outfit of black mothcloth and expertly-tanned doeskin. Black fox fur frames his neck and shoulders, a sleek hood left unused. His tunic is edged in dark red trim, a crimson sun framed by a halo of gold emblazoned in the center. He wears a belt woven of corded leather, strong enough to hold the ornate shortsword he keeps always at his side. His leggings are likewise black, close-fitting, and tuck into sturdy boots. Framing it all is his ever-present cape, sable on the outside with a more striking red reverse. Carrying: Petalwing With a little gasp, Ree starts and swivels her head in the airwalker's direction... rather more composedly than on their first encounter, it must be granted, though she retains an air about her like a shy fawn, easily startled. No send there may have been, and yet, Rayek's presence is more than enough to snare her attention. He too _shines_, even if he is eclipsed by the one called Suntop. She's cleaned up, too, since she was last seen. Her hair has been tamed, pulled into a great silver rope of a braid; her face is not quite so wild anymore, now that she's gotten some sleep. And yet, there's still uncertainty, even as she speaks up soft and tentative: "Um... hello?" Rayek smiles a little, and lifts a hand, palm toward the floor. It's a placating gesture, a peaceful move of his hand. "I didn't mean to startle you. Forgive me." He lets that hand fall. "I'm glad to see you though." He glances around the chamber, then back at her. "What do you think of the Palace?" This is a good sign, the maiden supposes. She is not entirely certain whether it is because of the tug of _magic_ that this brownskinned one exudes or whether it's because of the frank and artless forthrightness that Rumor claims was once her way--alien though it seems to her now--that prompts her to step over closer. It's a bit more assuring to think of it as just being like that, though; Ree is not entirely certain whether she's comfortable with thinking of magic tugging her this way and that, like wind tossing a feather about it in its grasp. "It... is wondrous," she breathes. "I don't remember... anything like it. Ever. Not even tales." "No?" Rayek was right to be curious after all. "I thought the Plainsrunners might have stories about it like the Wolfriders do. Your lifemate, at least, seemed to know something about it. He never told you anything?" To this, Ree has to blush. Pale as she is, like starlight somehow crafted into a she-elf, it tints her cheeks with obvious color; to her credit, however, she doesn't exactly look down at her toes even if she can't quite meet Rayek's measuring amber eyes. "He... has been trying to help me remember our time in the canyons, but I've... lost much. He says there were tales... and there have been plenty of Wolfriders who've come to the plains, bearing tales of their own... but." She sighs, though more out of general resignation rather than any obvious depression. "If I've heard those tales... I don't remember them yet." Even more reason to be curious. Rayek's eyes narrow a little and he tilts his head. "I didn't know you'd lost memories. I'm sure you'll remember, in time. I wonder, though. What -do- you remember? Do you know how you came here? Or why?" That's easy, and that much, at least, does not seem to disturb this strange she-elf. She even smiles a little, and makes a tiny uncertain chuckle; it's a rusty and bemused sound, that, as if she's half-forgotten how to laugh and is only just now realizing she still can. "I do remember that. Suntop led me here... because Thicket needed to come out." Her gaze tracks across the air again, never entirely still, and she draws in a long breath that makes her look as though she's tasting uncommonly sweet air. At the same time, though, her silvery brows knit together over those large leaf-colored eyes of hers. "I think there are holes... just because Thicket and I were blurred." Rayek smiles when Oriolle laughs. Whether it's meant to encourage or because he's caught up in her amusement is hard to tell, but the smile remains. "Suntop, yes. It's a good thing he found you, and that you could follow where he led. Having two souls in one body must have been ... painful." He frowns. No, that's not the right word, and his gaze shifts to one of the chamber walls, searching as if the right one might appear in the stone. A shake of his head and that amber gaze slides back again. "Do you remember how that happened? You said something about another elf, one who held you. Did he do that to you?" Absently, Ree rubs her hands along her arms again, and a bit of a shadow flashes across her eyes at the mention of that One. Gravely now, she shakes her head. "No... Thicket..." And now her head tilts, musingly, as she searches for a word. "... jumped into me. She tried to do it to help me." A beat. Two. Then she finishes earnestly, "Because she was killed trying to help me, and even though she was killed... she still wanted to help." Her words grow steadier as she continues; on the last few she nods half to herself. Yes. She remembers _that_, clearly. "So this elf who held you killed another to ... keep you?" It's not surprising that this troubles him, is it? "Did he tell you why he wanted to keep you? Or why he would kill another elf to do it?" Ree swings her attention back around to Rayek, all traces of easy humor now dropping away from her face at the question. Something... she's not sure what. But something tells her that this brownskinned, amber-eyed one is not unlike all the others, the ones who kept telling her over and over and over that Doreel was mad, that he was twisted and wrong--and she is not entirely certain she doesn't disagree, for all that one of the few clear things she can remember is a profound, desperate sadness out of the Shaper. She hugs herself a little closer, taking several seconds before she finally whispers in reply, "I was the one who'd Returned. And he was lonely, terribly... lonely..." Oh yes, the memory of _that_ is clear. Ree tilts her head back for a moment, eyes closing though this does not disguise the sudden glimmer of tears in their depths. Tears. The question prompted tears? Poor sensitive Oriolle will feel the apology before Rayek sends it in earnest. His voice is soft as well, words tinged with that same carefulness. "I don't mean to stir up painful memories, Oriolle. I'm only curious as to what sort of elf would do this. Keep you from your family. Twist you into something that you aren't." If there's a hint of disgust there, distaste, it's not intentional, and it's certainly not directed at Ree herself. Ree looks up, the relief of the sensed apology easing some of the strain out of her countenance. She studies the taller elf, searchingly, somberly, through the hints of her tears. "I... could try to answer that, I suppose," she murmurs, "but I am not sure if you will believe me. Nobody has asked me about it yet..." And she lets out a gentle, sad sigh. "I have been... muddled, so I suppose it's wisest that they didn't... I might... not remember truly." Rayek's eyebrows lift, and with that motion comes the hint of another smile. "You seem far from muddled to me, but I can't say how much clearer you might get. If I promise to believe you, will you try?" Another of those tiny, uncertain chuckles... while this time, Ree does actually look down at her feet. But then she looks up again, admitting, "I've been... _clearer_ here than I can remember being in a very long time." And then she nods solemnly and adds, "I can try to tell you what I remember. Or send it." Rayek takes that as an invitation to stay, apparently. He nods, an indulgent inclination of the head, and then he sits there by the door. Simply folds those long legs beneath him. His gaze stays on her, though, no matter how far below her he might be. "Whichever you choose. Both, if it's easier." It has been some time, apparently--to hear Rumor tell it--since she comfortably sat at a campfire and exhibited the grace of a huntress and Pathkeeper. There is still grace to her movements, though now it is is airy and refined rather than the feral sinuousness of a wolf-blooded huntress, as she too settles down to the floor with her legs tucked beneath her. Her hands take up her braid between them, fidgeting with it in what must be an unthinking habit. And she begins, hesitantly, "I... remember him taking me out of the tree. He was... sad, and lonely... and frightened. Thicket didn't trust him and didn't want me to send to him. But there...." And now she draws in a long, shuddering breath, dropping to sending for she does not have the words to convey what she can recollect: ** ** Rayek straightens where he sits as Oriolle shifts into sending. He's no more immune to the feeling in her memory than she is. He does not come near tears, but does quiet, almost like respect for the broken-hearted elf. Why are all of the powerful ones so sad? ** A tree? You were in a tree? ** By way of reply, she simply sends what she can remember: ** ** Maybe it's the remnants of shaping magic that make him glow, make Rayek interesting to Oriolle. Certainly, there is a sense from him, albeit faint, of recognition. Remembering that feeling of magic shifting and changing, just beneath the skin. Where there is compulsion for her, however, there is revulsion for him. Not a memory he wants to see or feel, certainly not one he wants to linger in. And then there's outright rejection: ** No! The Palace is not like that. It never was. It never will be. ** The maiden pulls in another long, unsteady breath before her attention refocuses upon the other, her gaze old enough to match that of any elder in any tribe's for all that her face is as timeless as any elf could wish. Old--and comprehending, perhaps, though she says or sends nothing yet to suggest that she senses she might have something in common with this darkskinned other. ** I know, ** is all she sends at first, and honesty and awareness resonate through the relayed thought. ** Mother says so, at any rate. And Father. ** Rayek's shoulders drop, the need to defend the Palace, his chosen home, gone as quickly as it came. He studies her, watches her, amber gaze on green. Then he shakes his head and breaks off to glance at his hands. Dark eyebrows knit. "This elf kept you in his tree. Changed you to be what he wished you to bed. Thicket lost her life saving you, but others didn't. The ones who took you to Sorrow's End." He looks up again. "What of the shaper? Where is he?' To this, Ree looks away, eyes darkening. "I suppose he is still in the village," she whispers. "I remember... he was in wrapstuff. Rillwhisper guarded him, and Ynderra, and they wouldn't let me near the cocoon. They were working on trying to heal him, I think... it's muddled." She closes her eyes, looking abruptly weary, and rather more fragile. "Thicket talked me into fleeing in the night. While none of them were looking. And he was still in wrapstuff when I left." Rayek's frown deepens. "It bothers you that they left him that way? Why?" This seems to take Ree by surprise somehow. She lifts her head slightly, gaze directed inward and the delicate lines of her face reflecting bemusement; her mouth opens, then closes, and then she swallows hard. "He was... just... frightened," she murmurs then, and then she suddenly presses both her palms to her eyes, which muffles her next anguished words. "And sad, so sad... I remember feeling it! And none of them... none of them seemed to know, they all acted like--like he was full of darkness, or... that he'd tried to hurt me..." Then she shoves one thin hand up and back through her silvery hair... and freezes. "I told him I wouldn't leave," she breathes, aghast. Rayek's eyebrows lift. She really is bothered. She really is troubled at the way a mad elf was treated. After all that was done . . . "You made a promise to someone who hurt you. Whether he meant to or not," he adds easily, "the truth is that, Oriolle. He Changed you because he wanted you to Change. There is no promise that can be made that truly binds you to one who treats you that way. You were not his to Change." Says the airwalker. "Thicket was right to tell you to run away." Green eyes meet golden, then. And the green ones are wide, horrorstruck, rendered a darker hue like that of a tree's leaves at midnight as what little color her cheeks possess drains away from them entirely. The wisdom or folly of Rayek's assertion goes unremarked upon, for something else seems to have seized Ree's thoughts. In a strangled, tiny voice, she blurts, "He knows my Name..." There are few things that startle Rayek anymore. This isn't one of them. Instead, that confession prompts a wave of disappointment. Resignation. He was hoping that this one would be different somehow. "But not because your souls met." He looks her over, this whip-thin maiden, and he assumes. "If it were Recognition, not even Thicket snapping at your heels could make you leave. So did he take it, or did you give it to him? Do you remember, Oriolle?" "Oh, High Ones..." It's almost a whimper, that choked little outcry on the edge of panic, but not quite. Ree slams her eyes shut and presses her bony knuckles against both her temples, while a fine line of strain appears between her pale brows. "It's..." ** ** Or maybe Rayek's wrong. -That- would startle him. Golden eyes narrow again and he takes a slow breath. ** Can you still feel him, Oriolle? Even with all that distance between you? ** Her mind goes blank as she tries to figure out by what or whom she might swear--and how in the world she might answer that question. Tears leak anew through her lashes, though the maiden does not huddle in any further on herself than she has already done. ** I... Don't... think so... just.... memories... ** Rayek glances toward the other one, toward Rumor. Who does, it's true, frown and stir a little in his sleep. Not enough to wake, but there's something going on that rouses him a step or two toward wakefulness. And Rayek's gaze shifts back to Oriolle. ** Then what he has, he took, either by force or by cunning. That's not a promise. Leave him to those who watch him. You have a life to remember again. ** Now the she-elf begins to register the wisdom of the airwalker's unhesitant counsel; after all, it doesn't sound entirely unfamiliar. For all that he is the farthest thing from a Wolfrider, still there is an echo of Thicket's own gruff determination in his sending. And it brings back to mind her rescuers as well, all of whom had insisted on keeping her away from the one who had been her Shaper. Hesitantly, shakily, she nods her shining head. ** You're right. I... need to focus on that. ** Her gaze goes to her sleeping mate, and her eyes turn full, gentler. ** On him. ** It's good advice. And yet... even as she determines to focus upon it... she can't dispell the disquiet in her heart. [End log.]