A Quiet Aside

Whilst Matches speaks to Stellarum about what can be done to help Vulcanax recover, Orianna has stepped away, coming to stand next to Calla. When the moment is right, she tugs on her sister’s sleeve, and quietly steps out of the front room, heading to the kitchen.
Calla’s not a stealthy person, but she knows how to fade into the background. She makes no sound as she turns to face Orianna and follows, tilting her head and raising a questioning eyebrow.

“I want to give them a moment, and I would like to make some restorative tea for Stellarum,” Orianna says, suddenly turning around and pointing to the pocket she knows normally holds Calla’s amethyst bottle. “Would you help me?” She turns the same hand so the palm is now facing up in the universal asking gesture of ‘May I?’.

Calla’s eyes narrow as deft fingers wrap around the bottle in its home. They linger there for a moment, but then her hand withdraws, vessel in palm. Rather than pass it directly to Orianna, she places it on the counter, watching her sister intently.

“Of course.” Her tone is flat. A signifier Orianna knows. Calla’s waiting for a shoe to drop.

There’s a slight smile as Orianna curls her hand back and holds it next to her chest. “Wonderful. Grab that basket and we will get the right mix from the garden,” she says, turning towards a narrow door at the back of the house that leads to the courtyard of the home and a few others abut. Stepping out, she motions for Calla to follow.

Calla looks from the vessel to Orianna, back again. Then to the open door. She purses her lips. “Mal, stay here for a minute. No need to get muddy and track pawprints all over Orianna’s kitchen.”

She doesn’t actually look at her familiar as he curls up under a chair, but once he’s settled she takes the basket and leaves for the courtyard.

The garden is very small, filled with more herbs than pretty flowers or vegetables. Calla finds Orianna already coaxing the plants into giving what they can to her, no scissors or knives necessary. Her gentle movements take all of Calla’s attention for a few seconds, a world away from the cut and prune of her own architectural gardening.

Eventually the elf grasps a handful of skirt to avoid it catching or getting in the way, and carefully steps into the garden proper.

“Here”.

Already Orianna had a palm full of rosemary and she started coaxing some lavender with soft Druidic words as she held the green, pungent sprigs out towards the basket in Calla’s hands. There’s a tentative smile that doesn’t quite reach her strained and worried eyes though.

“I appreciate your support earlier, and your understanding just now. I want to speak to only you.”

“Ah. Yes.” Calla offers the basket while looking over her shoulder. Back towards the house.

Calla feels the tiefling’s gaze on her and turns to see Orianna’s face coloured with a new worrying frown as she studies the red splotch in her hair. She sighs. “I am worried about you, Calla. And what I’m about to say may cause more worry if only because it seems like you have been through a lot these past ten days. You were gone for… a while before this morning. I wanted to speak to you sooner…”

“On a… private… matter?”

Orianna nods. “You could call it that.”

She places a handful of lavender in the basket, careful to keep it separated from the rosemary for now. Glancing around, and ensuring no one is near the back door, Orianna continues in Undercommon, keeping her voice barely above a whisper.

“When we went to retrieve Throdrazz’s key we went to the Plane of Earth… And we were led to your patron’s stronghold… where he was keeping the key.”

Calla freezes, her knuckles on the handle of the basket gone ice white.

Orianna keeps her voice steady and warm as she continues, hands fussing over the herbs to keep them separate. “He had done something to the key — much like what Magdara had done to Vulcanax’s. He tried to trick us into taking it whilst he still had control of it but we caught him out.” She pauses, hands returning to the herbs in the garden, this time to a small mint plant. “We were leaving when he tried to attack Henri.”

“You caught him out… and he tried to attack Henri.” Calla half mumbles the words, making sure she understands, and that Orianna knows she’s heard them.

“Mhmm,” the druid intones. Mint leaves fall into her hands as she passes her fingers over their branches, the plant shedding what it is willing to give her. “He knew we were coming, and-” Orianna pauses, in words and mint gathering. She wanted to be gentle, to be kind, but she knew this was the part that would upset Calla the most. “…it was implied that he knew more. Things someone who was not there should not know.”

“I’ve not told him anything. Since the Well, we’ve barely spoken.”

Orianna nods, expecting the answer. She holds the verdant leaves in her hands, seeming to debate something. Then she mutters a spell under her breath, and looks up to Calla, studying her.

“If you’re worried about something, you should tell me what it is so I can help you.” The Arcanist’s eyes narrow while her glamour flickers, as if to illustrate a point.

All she sees is magic woven in intricate, thorny knots and twists all around Calla. It is a maze to the eyes and hard to look at. But look she must. Orianna scans all over Calla trying to find one of the needles, or something similar to it, anything. For there must be something. Her eyes pulse and her vision peels back layer after layer, defences and glamours and protections. After the sixth or seventh she begins to notice a new glow coming from within Calla herself. Something possibly underneath her sister’s skin or even engraved onto her heart, it must be. The thought makes Orianna’s throat tighten. She focuses in on the glow and begins to see a rosebud in the centre of a labyrinth-like structure of vines and thorns. This mark in her sister’s heart has an unmistakable amethyst glow. The moment she registers this she notices the types of magic they contain: divination and an unmistakable, primordial element of earth, clearly the same as Arcravine’s. This, even more than the bottle, is the true representation of Calla’s pact with the Primordial, or at least part of it.

“I…” It is the first time Orianna’s voice shakes. She pulls back ever so slightly, taking several deep breaths. She begins to lay the leaves down in a crude pattern in the dirt. “I don’t know if you can, Calla.”

More leaves fall into her hands as her fingers brush across the mint plant again. She adds them forming a more cohesive heart-like shape. Then she draws two symbols on either side with her fingers in the dirt — the basic arcane ruin for divination, and then the cosmological symbol for the Plane of Earth.

“It may be… extremely difficult for you to do so,” Orianna says, finishing. As she looks up, her eyes catch on Calla’s chest where she could no longer unsee Arcravine’s touch, before dragging up to her sister’s face.

“Mmm. I see.” There’s a quick curl of cold bitterness in Calla’s features, but it's shut down as fast as it comes in.

She looks off into the middle distance for a moment, trying to solve a difficult puzzle. Her Draconic is exceedingly awkward, and it’s clear she hates speaking a language she hasn’t mastered, but Orianna gets the rough gist of it.

“Then I guess you do the best you can. It is like how you worry about Valethra growing. We will not do anything that harm her, but… she is dangerous. Wise to look after her, make sure she is safe and so is everyone near. When she is in the world there should be someone much bigger around to stop… any big problems. Especially if she go anywhere important.”

Calla rearranges the leaves to look roughly like Sovereign Faerleth.

She switches back into undercommon. “Meanwhile, I’ve been considering some options. Including the big one.” Her fingers graze her sternum en route to fixing her collar. It’s not accidental.

“Contingencies.”

Orianna’s look of worry has transformed into one of contemplative concern. But she is listening, intently.

“All I’m saying is that we shouldn’t face these problems alone. It’s important to fully lean on the bigger members of our family, especially when we’ve known for a long time that important things are about to happen. Otherwise what is there to do but get drunk about it.” Calla reaches out to put a hand on Orianna's shoulder, but the touch is light.

Orianna’s expression is a full on frown, eyes pinched with so much worry. When she looks down at the leaves in the dirt it is a sad attempt at hiding the action of wiping her eyes. The effects of detect magic is not the only thing she removes from her vision.

“How can we? When the bigger members of our family get torn asunder so irrevocably, how can we hope to come out unscathed? How can I keep you safe?” Her voice cracks as a sob wracks through her body.

Calla’s hand grips harder now. “You don’t. You can’t. I made my bargains willingly from the start. You keep everyone else safe. If… if you want to look after me and…” She makes an exasperated sound, infuriated by having to watch her words.

“Go talk to Henri, Mittens even, about what they saw at the end of our experiment, and talk to them about why anyone would want to do that. About what they might possibly gain from it. And do it quickly. We might be running out of time.”

Calla might be older, but she is smaller by stature. She helps up her much bigger sister.

“I understand what you’re telling me, I think, but you know what I’m going to do next. You know where I’m going and what I’m aiming for when I get there. Go talk to them and you’ll have all the pieces you need to be a step ahead. I… I trust you. You can do this.”

All Orianna can do is nod. She nearly let it all overwhelm her but she held on very tightly. She had to, if she was to have any hope of helping Calla out of a bargain that had nestled so deep within her very heart.