Post by Sunday on May 14, 2020 18:33:11 GMT
Midday, Greengrass, 1497
Even though Baine had told Markas that Sunday “was ok and just held up with something, mate” the fact she hadn’t arrived back in Daring with the others was causing him to fret. Unable to concentrate on his training, Markas decided to head back to the Gilded Mirror and wait there for Sunday to return.
Engrossed as he was in his worries as he trudged along Daring’s streets, he wasn’t startled out of his reverie until eLk was coasting directly above - pinons outstretched to give the illusion of wings attached to Markas’ shadow - and a piercing whistle sounded overheard followed by a familiar voice.
“Oi, lover boy, up here!”
Markas looks up and shields his eyes from the light of the sun behind Sunday, making out the unmistakable silhouette of her and eLk, contradictory feelings of calming relief and ecstatic joy washing over him, “There you are! Baine wouldn’t tell me anything!”
“Come on, climb up. We’re getting out of the city. I’m not spending Greengrass surrounded by brick and stone and commerce and smoke.”
The pair sit with their bare feet dangling in the stream burbling around the perimeter of Willow Glade. Around them, the muted first stirrings of spring permeating the rest of the Feythorn seem amplified - energised - in this small secluded spot.
Pouring the rest of the wine into their earthenware cups, Sunday rolls the empty bottle through the long grass to rest against the stones marking the edge of the stream. Markas swirls the liquid round his cup for a moment as he looks to Sunday before taking a sip. “You know, you said you’d be back in a few days.”
“And here I am.” Sunday smiles at him, spreading her arms. “All yours again. Sorry it took a little longer than I thought. You know how these things go sometimes.”
He beams back and leans in to kiss her, “Yes you are!”. He takes another small sip of his drink, “So? Are you going to tell me how it went?”
Sunday closes her eyes as he kisses her, enjoying the moment - before sticking her bottom lip out in a pout at his words. “So business-like! Alright, ‘mission debrief’ it is!”
“Well, I’d just like to get the boring stuff out the way so I can spend the rest of the day enjoying you.”
She grins, pops a grape into her mouth and chews, before speaking again with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. “Not much to say, tbh. Banished my mum back to certain death and discovered that Zariel is trying to rip a hole in the Material Plane to let multitudes of devils and demons spill into our world. The yooszh.”
Markas tries to keep a straight face but is very clearly surprised by the news, “Oh…. n-normal stuff then?”
“Never change, Kas.” Sunday chuckles softly, patting him on the cheek, before her face settles into a calmer, more serious mien. “I know we’ve joked before about you meeting my family, but I’m afraid that’s unlikely to happen now. We got ambushed en-route by Valcyra and some of her followers... ” Sunday trails off, gazing out across the stream to the forest beyond. Just for a moment, Markas swears he feels the temperature in the glade drop sharply, icy hoarfrost starting to form across the empty wine bottle and gather on the surface of the brook. But, as quickly as it came, the icy chill vanishes as Sunday turns back to smile sadly at him, the buzzing and chirping of insects filling the sudden background silence once more. “Turns out Valcyra decided to enlist in Zariel’s service after Fierna kicked her and the rest of the fam out of Phlegethos. My mother had heard about our little escapade down to Avernus to free Varis and was only too keen to do Zariel’s work for her; and get her own revenge on me at the same time.” Sunday sighs, regretfully. “But at least you’re spared the experience of her criticising your haircut or, you know, ripping your spine out through your mouth.”
Markas reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, “What’s wrong with my hair?” He chuckles as he looks into Sunday’s eyes in the moment of quiet that follows. “... I know that must have been tough, Sun, even for you. But why now? I thought you were just heading to Sigil?”
“We were trying to get some info about who was behind the Vanguard and what’s happening in K’ul Goran. We really are at a disadvantage with how little we know. Anyway, they showed up en-route and attacked us.” But before she’s even finished the first sentence, Sunday knows Markas isn’t buying it.
Markas waits a moment before replying, “They attacked you in Sigil? I’m surprised that ‘blade’ woman didn’t intervene…”
“The Lady of Pain...” Sunday meets Markas’ steady gaze for a second or two before looking guilty away. “Well, we didn’t actually go… to Sigil in the end… so, yer…” She trails off again, hesitantly.
“Hmmm…” he is quiet for a second, “And you… banished your mum? I’ve seen everyone else already so I know everyone got back ok but what happened after that?” He smiles at Sunday
Sunday half-smiles back. “Every kid’s dream’s to banish their parents, right?” Sunday sighs again. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. I’d thought about it, almost every day for the last 12 years or so. But, when it came to it, I found I didn’t want to. And I didn’t want any of the others to have to deal with that burden, either. So I just sent her home. To Phlegethos, I mean. Let Fierna deal with her.”
Sunday looks away for a moment, chewing her lower lip in thought. Finally she turns back to him, her expression resolute.
“And after..? Well… I c- no, I won’t tell you what happened, Kas. Or where we went.” She takes his hand in hers. “I’m sorry I lied to you - and that I’m still lying to you. I won’t give you that bullshit about it being for your own safety. We decided not to tell anyone because it’s simply safer for everyone and everything. Not fair of me to ask, I know, but you’re gonna have to trust me on that.” The words are rushing out of her in a torrent. “It’s not that I don’t have faith in you… it’s those around you I can’t put my faith in. And the allegiances they hold to others not concerned with the safety of our community.” She pauses before squeezing his hand. “And fuck it: it is for your own safety, too.”
He kisses Sunday gently on her hand, “It’s ok, I understand… Sometimes you do things to help that don’t always feel very good… but you can always count on me, Sun,” He pulls her close and wraps his arms around her holding her tight, “and if nothing else, you can still meet my mum.”
“Thank you, love.” Sunday leans into the embrace. “What’s she like, your mum? Where is she?”
“Back home… what used to be home I guess. She’s… well, a mum? She’s pretty smart, used to work in a Library when I was really young. She was always smiling but I know she was really sad for a long time after my Dad died.”
“How did he die?”
“He, umm... It was a disease. Mum did tell me the name but I can’t remember it now… a lot of people died around then. I don’t remember much but I remember seeing him sick…” He trails off in memory for a moment.
“Your mum sounds lovely.” Sunday says gently. “Did she used to read to you? When you were in the library, I mean.”
He nods, “She used to read a lot when I was younger but…. Hmmm, well when I got a bit older she wanted me to ‘branch out’ a bit,” He gives a small almost nervous chuckle, “she, uh, made me take some classes I didn’t really want to take at the time.”
Sunday cocks an eyebrow. “Oh? And what were they in, pray tell?”
“Well… you’ve seen me training, the way I kind of… spin and dance around a fight? They didn't teach us that in the temple where I trained.”
“All the best warriors dance when they fight. Take me, for example.”
“True, but not all of them go to a dance class twice a week!”
“Well, maybe they should. Might loosen them up a bit. Varis, for example. Baine, too, could do with some lessons. Far too stiff. It’s all that nobility and metalwork. Blocks their movements.” Sunday sniffs dismissively, before her eyes widen with an idea. She jumps to her feet, clapping her hands together. “Up! Up! It wouldn’t be a real Greengass without a dance!”
“...wrong with your hair. S’lovely.” Sunday says, running a hand through Markas’ white-grey curls. “I really am sorry I was gone longer than I said. But I’ve got no plans to head off anywhere else anytime soon. I’ve got to finish my lessons with Ori. And work with the council and the others to prepare for what’s coming. That leaves plenty of time for us.”
“How is that going by the way? You’ve stopped talking in your sleep now…”
Sunday sits up straight and folds her hands in her lap, a look of fierce concentration on her face. “Llss yw- ywglgh flss… agslssis wuiw llss pkqqsqw!”
Markas gives an impressed and appreciative nod, “I wish I knew if that was actually good or not…. What language is it again?” as he gives a smirk.
Sunday punches him, mostly playfully, on the arm. “I’m not that bad! It’s Deep Speech and you know it is!”
“I know!” he laughs. “It would be nice to know how well it’s going though, I can’t understand any of it!
“I’d teach you, but I barely know what I’m saying half the time. Learning languages has always been a mystery to me. The common tongue didn’t take me long to pick up when I got here, and Corellon just basically implanted Sylvan into my brain - “as a gift” he said. But Deep Speech. Feels like a whole other kettle of slimy far-realm fish.” She wrinkles her nose in thought. “I wonder… you know when you tune into people’s… what do you call it? kay?”
“Ki”
“Ki, right, thanks.” Sunday kisses him and, in response to his quizzical look, says, “Any excuse. Well, you know when you tune into people’s ki, can you feel changes in it?”
“Sure. I used it to… oh wait I don’t think I ended up telling you that did I? I sort’ve taught myself to, well, purge poison from my body, but I learnt to do it by feeling changes in other people. It was actually Varis I was listening to, saying that.” He looks pleased with himself.
“Clever, clever. I think that’s how I do it, too. I just imagine the poisoned person as a stream clogged with dirt and detritus, and then just kinda wash them clean with how wonderful I am, I guess? Anyway, what you said sounds like what I’m getting at.” She takes the fingers of his right hand and rests them against her lips.
“Try and see if there’s a different… ki… when I speak different languages. Ready?”
Curious in Sunday’s thinking, he gives a half smile, “Ok, I’m ready” and closes his eyes to concentrate.
“La, la, la, I love the Feywild.” Markas hears Sunday say in Common in a perfect imitation of Sheryl’s voice. “Look at my special harp.”
Markas lets out a loud laugh at the unexpected impression, “It’s uncanny!”
“Pay attention!” Sunday mock admonishes him. “This is important science we’re doing! Let’s try again. Ready?”
“Ok, ok, I’m ready” he says, eyes still closed but a grin across his face.
“The hail in Toril falls mainly on the squirrel.” Sunday enunciates slowly in her own voice.
“Hmmm… pretty sure that was just normal”
“Yer, good, was supposed to be. Ori calls it a control sample. Ok, how does this one feel…
“मूर्ख प्रधान - मैं आपकी त्वचा को एक केप के रूप में पहनूंगा!” This time, the words crackle through the glade, filling Markas’ ears with malice and heat.
He flinches slightly and a small frown crosses his face,”Ok… say something in common again?”
“I love you and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The beaming smile returns to Markas’ face, a tinge of red to his cheeks, “I love you too, one more?”
“Wss, twl, qwblp mml swqhl.” The syllables pour and drip their way into Markas’ mind, almost seeming to bypass his ears entirely.
“Hmmmm…there’s…. Something? Like a brief flicker…” He thinks for a second, “Maybe I could try to listen more, see if I can pick it out.” His face suddenly lights up and he kisses Sunday, “This was a great idea!”
“Thanks! It’s new to me, too. It’s something I’ve been thinking about. Like, I can feel life around me, you know. Energy. I can’t really influence it like you can - at least, not in an individual. But I think it’s the same when I heal someone or encourage the plants to grow or when I channel how I’m feeling into my hammers. The stuff Rholor does; the stuff Ori does; the stuff you and I do: it’s all energy, just moving about in different ways.”
“That’s interesting. Most people I see using magic seem like they draw it from somewhere. I hadn’t considered it could be a form of energy control.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, “Most of what I learned about Ki was controlling my own energy and being aware of myself. Meelkee was always good at that... And touching other people’s Ki, to influence it how you said, never really felt like what the others do.”
“‘Course Meelkee was good at it. Clue’s in the name. Meel-ki… When you were feeling me speak different languages, could you pick anything up then?”
“I’m not sure. There was something but I don’t know whether it’s the effort you put into it or something else. It was subtle. I might be able to pick out more if i train myself to…” Markas leans backward and lays out in the grass, stretching his arms out above him as he does. “You do give me a lot to think about!”
Sunday drops down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for. Keep you on your toes.”
Even though Baine had told Markas that Sunday “was ok and just held up with something, mate” the fact she hadn’t arrived back in Daring with the others was causing him to fret. Unable to concentrate on his training, Markas decided to head back to the Gilded Mirror and wait there for Sunday to return.
Engrossed as he was in his worries as he trudged along Daring’s streets, he wasn’t startled out of his reverie until eLk was coasting directly above - pinons outstretched to give the illusion of wings attached to Markas’ shadow - and a piercing whistle sounded overheard followed by a familiar voice.
“Oi, lover boy, up here!”
Markas looks up and shields his eyes from the light of the sun behind Sunday, making out the unmistakable silhouette of her and eLk, contradictory feelings of calming relief and ecstatic joy washing over him, “There you are! Baine wouldn’t tell me anything!”
“Come on, climb up. We’re getting out of the city. I’m not spending Greengrass surrounded by brick and stone and commerce and smoke.”
***
Late afternoon, Greengrass, 1497The pair sit with their bare feet dangling in the stream burbling around the perimeter of Willow Glade. Around them, the muted first stirrings of spring permeating the rest of the Feythorn seem amplified - energised - in this small secluded spot.
Pouring the rest of the wine into their earthenware cups, Sunday rolls the empty bottle through the long grass to rest against the stones marking the edge of the stream. Markas swirls the liquid round his cup for a moment as he looks to Sunday before taking a sip. “You know, you said you’d be back in a few days.”
“And here I am.” Sunday smiles at him, spreading her arms. “All yours again. Sorry it took a little longer than I thought. You know how these things go sometimes.”
He beams back and leans in to kiss her, “Yes you are!”. He takes another small sip of his drink, “So? Are you going to tell me how it went?”
Sunday closes her eyes as he kisses her, enjoying the moment - before sticking her bottom lip out in a pout at his words. “So business-like! Alright, ‘mission debrief’ it is!”
“Well, I’d just like to get the boring stuff out the way so I can spend the rest of the day enjoying you.”
She grins, pops a grape into her mouth and chews, before speaking again with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. “Not much to say, tbh. Banished my mum back to certain death and discovered that Zariel is trying to rip a hole in the Material Plane to let multitudes of devils and demons spill into our world. The yooszh.”
Markas tries to keep a straight face but is very clearly surprised by the news, “Oh…. n-normal stuff then?”
“Never change, Kas.” Sunday chuckles softly, patting him on the cheek, before her face settles into a calmer, more serious mien. “I know we’ve joked before about you meeting my family, but I’m afraid that’s unlikely to happen now. We got ambushed en-route by Valcyra and some of her followers... ” Sunday trails off, gazing out across the stream to the forest beyond. Just for a moment, Markas swears he feels the temperature in the glade drop sharply, icy hoarfrost starting to form across the empty wine bottle and gather on the surface of the brook. But, as quickly as it came, the icy chill vanishes as Sunday turns back to smile sadly at him, the buzzing and chirping of insects filling the sudden background silence once more. “Turns out Valcyra decided to enlist in Zariel’s service after Fierna kicked her and the rest of the fam out of Phlegethos. My mother had heard about our little escapade down to Avernus to free Varis and was only too keen to do Zariel’s work for her; and get her own revenge on me at the same time.” Sunday sighs, regretfully. “But at least you’re spared the experience of her criticising your haircut or, you know, ripping your spine out through your mouth.”
Markas reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, “What’s wrong with my hair?” He chuckles as he looks into Sunday’s eyes in the moment of quiet that follows. “... I know that must have been tough, Sun, even for you. But why now? I thought you were just heading to Sigil?”
“We were trying to get some info about who was behind the Vanguard and what’s happening in K’ul Goran. We really are at a disadvantage with how little we know. Anyway, they showed up en-route and attacked us.” But before she’s even finished the first sentence, Sunday knows Markas isn’t buying it.
Markas waits a moment before replying, “They attacked you in Sigil? I’m surprised that ‘blade’ woman didn’t intervene…”
“The Lady of Pain...” Sunday meets Markas’ steady gaze for a second or two before looking guilty away. “Well, we didn’t actually go… to Sigil in the end… so, yer…” She trails off again, hesitantly.
“Hmmm…” he is quiet for a second, “And you… banished your mum? I’ve seen everyone else already so I know everyone got back ok but what happened after that?” He smiles at Sunday
Sunday half-smiles back. “Every kid’s dream’s to banish their parents, right?” Sunday sighs again. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. I’d thought about it, almost every day for the last 12 years or so. But, when it came to it, I found I didn’t want to. And I didn’t want any of the others to have to deal with that burden, either. So I just sent her home. To Phlegethos, I mean. Let Fierna deal with her.”
Sunday looks away for a moment, chewing her lower lip in thought. Finally she turns back to him, her expression resolute.
“And after..? Well… I c- no, I won’t tell you what happened, Kas. Or where we went.” She takes his hand in hers. “I’m sorry I lied to you - and that I’m still lying to you. I won’t give you that bullshit about it being for your own safety. We decided not to tell anyone because it’s simply safer for everyone and everything. Not fair of me to ask, I know, but you’re gonna have to trust me on that.” The words are rushing out of her in a torrent. “It’s not that I don’t have faith in you… it’s those around you I can’t put my faith in. And the allegiances they hold to others not concerned with the safety of our community.” She pauses before squeezing his hand. “And fuck it: it is for your own safety, too.”
He kisses Sunday gently on her hand, “It’s ok, I understand… Sometimes you do things to help that don’t always feel very good… but you can always count on me, Sun,” He pulls her close and wraps his arms around her holding her tight, “and if nothing else, you can still meet my mum.”
“Thank you, love.” Sunday leans into the embrace. “What’s she like, your mum? Where is she?”
“Back home… what used to be home I guess. She’s… well, a mum? She’s pretty smart, used to work in a Library when I was really young. She was always smiling but I know she was really sad for a long time after my Dad died.”
“How did he die?”
“He, umm... It was a disease. Mum did tell me the name but I can’t remember it now… a lot of people died around then. I don’t remember much but I remember seeing him sick…” He trails off in memory for a moment.
“Your mum sounds lovely.” Sunday says gently. “Did she used to read to you? When you were in the library, I mean.”
He nods, “She used to read a lot when I was younger but…. Hmmm, well when I got a bit older she wanted me to ‘branch out’ a bit,” He gives a small almost nervous chuckle, “she, uh, made me take some classes I didn’t really want to take at the time.”
Sunday cocks an eyebrow. “Oh? And what were they in, pray tell?”
“Well… you’ve seen me training, the way I kind of… spin and dance around a fight? They didn't teach us that in the temple where I trained.”
“All the best warriors dance when they fight. Take me, for example.”
“True, but not all of them go to a dance class twice a week!”
“Well, maybe they should. Might loosen them up a bit. Varis, for example. Baine, too, could do with some lessons. Far too stiff. It’s all that nobility and metalwork. Blocks their movements.” Sunday sniffs dismissively, before her eyes widen with an idea. She jumps to her feet, clapping her hands together. “Up! Up! It wouldn’t be a real Greengass without a dance!”
***
Nighttime, Greengrass, 1497“...wrong with your hair. S’lovely.” Sunday says, running a hand through Markas’ white-grey curls. “I really am sorry I was gone longer than I said. But I’ve got no plans to head off anywhere else anytime soon. I’ve got to finish my lessons with Ori. And work with the council and the others to prepare for what’s coming. That leaves plenty of time for us.”
“How is that going by the way? You’ve stopped talking in your sleep now…”
Sunday sits up straight and folds her hands in her lap, a look of fierce concentration on her face. “Llss yw- ywglgh flss… agslssis wuiw llss pkqqsqw!”
Markas gives an impressed and appreciative nod, “I wish I knew if that was actually good or not…. What language is it again?” as he gives a smirk.
Sunday punches him, mostly playfully, on the arm. “I’m not that bad! It’s Deep Speech and you know it is!”
“I know!” he laughs. “It would be nice to know how well it’s going though, I can’t understand any of it!
“I’d teach you, but I barely know what I’m saying half the time. Learning languages has always been a mystery to me. The common tongue didn’t take me long to pick up when I got here, and Corellon just basically implanted Sylvan into my brain - “as a gift” he said. But Deep Speech. Feels like a whole other kettle of slimy far-realm fish.” She wrinkles her nose in thought. “I wonder… you know when you tune into people’s… what do you call it? kay?”
“Ki”
“Ki, right, thanks.” Sunday kisses him and, in response to his quizzical look, says, “Any excuse. Well, you know when you tune into people’s ki, can you feel changes in it?”
“Sure. I used it to… oh wait I don’t think I ended up telling you that did I? I sort’ve taught myself to, well, purge poison from my body, but I learnt to do it by feeling changes in other people. It was actually Varis I was listening to, saying that.” He looks pleased with himself.
“Clever, clever. I think that’s how I do it, too. I just imagine the poisoned person as a stream clogged with dirt and detritus, and then just kinda wash them clean with how wonderful I am, I guess? Anyway, what you said sounds like what I’m getting at.” She takes the fingers of his right hand and rests them against her lips.
“Try and see if there’s a different… ki… when I speak different languages. Ready?”
Curious in Sunday’s thinking, he gives a half smile, “Ok, I’m ready” and closes his eyes to concentrate.
“La, la, la, I love the Feywild.” Markas hears Sunday say in Common in a perfect imitation of Sheryl’s voice. “Look at my special harp.”
Markas lets out a loud laugh at the unexpected impression, “It’s uncanny!”
“Pay attention!” Sunday mock admonishes him. “This is important science we’re doing! Let’s try again. Ready?”
“Ok, ok, I’m ready” he says, eyes still closed but a grin across his face.
“The hail in Toril falls mainly on the squirrel.” Sunday enunciates slowly in her own voice.
“Hmmm… pretty sure that was just normal”
“Yer, good, was supposed to be. Ori calls it a control sample. Ok, how does this one feel…
“मूर्ख प्रधान - मैं आपकी त्वचा को एक केप के रूप में पहनूंगा!” This time, the words crackle through the glade, filling Markas’ ears with malice and heat.
He flinches slightly and a small frown crosses his face,”Ok… say something in common again?”
“I love you and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The beaming smile returns to Markas’ face, a tinge of red to his cheeks, “I love you too, one more?”
“Wss, twl, qwblp mml swqhl.” The syllables pour and drip their way into Markas’ mind, almost seeming to bypass his ears entirely.
“Hmmmm…there’s…. Something? Like a brief flicker…” He thinks for a second, “Maybe I could try to listen more, see if I can pick it out.” His face suddenly lights up and he kisses Sunday, “This was a great idea!”
“Thanks! It’s new to me, too. It’s something I’ve been thinking about. Like, I can feel life around me, you know. Energy. I can’t really influence it like you can - at least, not in an individual. But I think it’s the same when I heal someone or encourage the plants to grow or when I channel how I’m feeling into my hammers. The stuff Rholor does; the stuff Ori does; the stuff you and I do: it’s all energy, just moving about in different ways.”
“That’s interesting. Most people I see using magic seem like they draw it from somewhere. I hadn’t considered it could be a form of energy control.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, “Most of what I learned about Ki was controlling my own energy and being aware of myself. Meelkee was always good at that... And touching other people’s Ki, to influence it how you said, never really felt like what the others do.”
“‘Course Meelkee was good at it. Clue’s in the name. Meel-ki… When you were feeling me speak different languages, could you pick anything up then?”
“I’m not sure. There was something but I don’t know whether it’s the effort you put into it or something else. It was subtle. I might be able to pick out more if i train myself to…” Markas leans backward and lays out in the grass, stretching his arms out above him as he does. “You do give me a lot to think about!”
Sunday drops down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for. Keep you on your toes.”
