When One Door Closes 30/09/24 - Calla & Henri
Sept 30, 2024 15:53:14 GMT
Andy D, Orianna Èirigh, and 2 more like this
Post by dee on Sept 30, 2024 15:53:14 GMT
Following on from The Door Opens
Co-written with Alex. Fact-checking from Charlie
Calla's shortened surname (Prim) is technically a ‘false friend’, but it rarely feels more apt than when she's in prestigious company. Glamour or no, the moment she steps into the Gilded Mirror, every patron knows she doesn't belong. Bereft of even a summon to do the awkward work for her, she hovers on the threshold. Scanning the gathered crowd for a familiar face.
She finds one, tending bar at the back. Henri leans against the polished surface, chatting softly with one of those many prestigious patrons. A wine bottle gently floats up from the back to refill their glass, and Henri sends them back to the tables with a wink and a grin.
It's only when he scans the room in turn that Calla notices just how hollow the gesture was, as it morphs into something entirely different as his gaze lands on the Mirror's newest guest.
Calla nods and smiles a thin-lipped greeting, and as patrons interrupt Henri's view of her, the distance between them contracts. Two mostly obscured steps, and she's very suddenly at the bar, one blue hand upon it.
It takes only a moment longer for a drink to appear next to it, a layered mixture of yellows and blues and purples that begin to settle into their tall, narrow glass. Henri arrives shortly after it, smiling from ear to ear. "On the house."
The elf tilts her head at Henri’s smile, trying to discern if this one is hollow or true. She decides she can’t tell before taking a small sip of the cocktail. Some fruit she doesn’t recognise. At least two spirits, the same. It’s… very good.
“You’re too kind”. Is that a double meaning? As much as Henri is disarmingly charming, Calla remains inscrutable. “Do you happen to have time for a chat?”
Henri raises an eyebrow in answer, his eyes darting amongst the others at the bar. To a gnome at the other end, he raises a finger, receiving a nod in response.
"For you? All the time in the world. Would you like to grab a booth? Or is this a bit more... sensitive?"
Calla frowns at Henri's turn of phrase, but it's a passing flicker.
"I think some privacy would be best".
Henri nods, raising an arm towards a staircase at the end of the bar. "Then we can use my room, if you like? Or we can take a walk."
“Let’s take a walk,” Calla looks around, “take in some fresh air, some quiet”.
"Of course." Henri makes his way to the side of the bar and out, his progress consistently stymied by a familiar face here, a friendly clap on the shoulder there.
For one, a whisper and a glance to the manager is all that is needed to make their night right.
For others, nothing will do, and Henri contents himself with empty platitudes as he makes his way outside.
Calla watches Henri go, sighs heavily, and then blips back to the door: keen to avoid the further awkwardness of trying to manoeuvre through the crowd.
"Now," he says, pulling his scarf up around his neck to ward off the chill air, "tell me what mysteries befall you and I shall endeavour to offer possibilities."
"I have two mysteries: one partially mine, one entirely yours"
"Is that so." The two begin to walk, slowly, meandering around the side of the Mirror and down the street. Henri throws his head back, looking up at the evening sky, the last few dregs of sunlight upon the clouds.
"Well, let's start with yours, then."
"Very well". Calla looks around, nods to herself, and strides ahead. Within two turns they're on a much less busy avenue. A little out of breath, a little flushed, she slows again to talk.
"As you're no doubt aware, I've... fully tendered my resignation with First Mountain. A necessary and timely option, but one that leaves a... gap... in my repertoire. One I'm especially keen to fill before I take our fight to the Feydark".
She looks aside, slightly embarrassed, but continues.
"In part that's because I don't want any opportunity for him to reassert a claim, in part because I want to be at full strength before trying to defeat my family. But the candidates are largely... sub-optimal."
A hand goes up to count off names. With each, a digit lowered.
"The obvious candidate is Mezza, but I find him intolerable. And, in fact, not one of the Primordials seems like a sensible partner given our ongoing war. Matches' affiliation aside. Tradition would suggest that desperate times call for a pact with the Hells, and I do have Glasya as a... professional contact, but I'm not so short sighted. Even Copernicus seems like a poor choice, longer term. As for the Heavens, I've already established a priestly relationship with Mystra. The Feywild, of course, is unthinkable".
Calla looks back at Henri, and it's sly. Canny, even.
"My standards are high, my strategy demanding, my circumstances requiring of a wide set of contingencies. Realistically, I see only one recourse. One with which you're familiar, who's metal I already wear, who's conjurings I have already studied".
A taught moment hangs in the air.
"The Staircase".
The grin on Henri's face widens as Calla reaches the crescendo, and as she says those two fantastic words, he stops.
The quiet street doesn't appreciate the disturbance, but Henri is not one to care.
"YES!" he shouts. His fist pumps the air. "Haha! Finally! Well, I mean, I'm not sure I appreciate it being your last resort, but Calla!" He strides forward, making up the distance that had grown between them. "Like you say, it's the best option. And there's nothing like it."
“Huh. I was expecting more… pushback? A dire warning maybe.”
With a final step, Henri claps both hands onto Calla's shoulders. There's a silver light in his eyes, wide as they are, saccading across Calla's face. "If a warning is what you need I can go through the motions, but I doubt it would be anything you do not already know. You have already walked those Steps. You know what awaits you, beyond this choice."
Henri's eyebrow raises, as though the thought had only just occurred to him. "Right? Or are there still mysteries you need possible answers for?"
Calla stiffens beneath Henri’s grip “I do have a couple of queries, actually.”
As quickly as his hands had found her shoulders they loosen, falling to his sides and finding his pockets. The light dims in his eyes, the rush of discovery past.
"Of course, dear cousin. What is it you would like to know?"
“Well… if it’s not too personal a question, I know that the Staircase devours the, uh, uninitiated, but what about you? Is your soul bound for that same fate, or no? And secondly, is your agreement with the Staircase itself, or one of its Infinite residents?”
Here Henri takes a few tentative steps forward, continuing their walk. "There is a cost to walking the Staircase, the only difference being how it is paid. Those of us that carry a Call," he says, his finger running against the silver scarf around his neck, "still become part of it after a time, but we become one of the Infinite instead of one of its doors."
He looks to her for a reaction to this news. "Though, from what I have discussed with Pantos, it is not a sure fate. You must choose, at the end, what you will become. But you cannot be both Infinite and Herald."
A breath, and a small frown creases Henri's brow. "My agreement, though. What I have seen happen is that new Chosen are beholden to the Infinite that grants them their Call. Copernicus and Andromeda, for instance. Even Gerhard and Andromeda, for a time, though now he is connected to The Matriarch. It is how the 'family tree' is built. However..." he trails off, the finger now a hand gripping the scarf tightly, "this was given to me by Gerhard. He is not an Infinite, though, so Pantos was then assigned to me by the Matriarch."
Calla nods. Henri’s reply has landed well. She seems almost cheerful to hear of it.
“Honestly, Corellon and I aren’t on the best of terms. My destination should be simple, but being a Herald complicates it, and even if it didn’t, I don’t exactly trust them when it comes to my… end-of-life accounting”.
She quietens a little, and an expression crosses her face that Henri would be unable to parse… had he not been inside Calla’s mind.
“What do you know of The Watcher?”
"Hmm. Thrandruiel? Very little. I don't know precisely where he sits on the tree. Likely beneath The Matriarch, like most of those we have met." Henri's face stays pointed forwards, his only glimpse of Calla from the corner of his eye. "Interested, are we?"
“They seem… interesting, yes”. The back half of her sentence is all but mumbled: “Them or Absalom. Depending on which is… available.”
"The Watcher or The Emissary. Or both." Henri grins, his elbow jutting out to tap Calla's. "Either way we'll be cousins twice over, hmm?"
“If we can come to acceptable terms, yes.”
Henri laughs, his head thrown back to the night air. He composes himself, and replies, "Of course. Though I'm not sure a better deal exists. It is everything, Calla. Infinite possibilities. Infinite mysteries, too, I am sure."
“I won’t lie, it’s a particularly striking partnership. Given my other duties. Even if I forfeit my position as Herald, the oaths I took to Kesserax remain relevant. My successor could find themselves with an enviable ally. Far better that than an ignoble shuffle back into the Elven ranks at the hands of a god keen to humble me”.
“At that point all that remains is to ensure an existence beyond mythic carpentry, to determine a domain, and to iron out the… more personal parts of any partnership. Were there oaths, for you, or more of a deal?”
"I don't know." Henri looks over to Calla, a shrug in the crease of his mouth. "I was just a walker for a while. There was Mister, and the places we went. I still have some gaps. And then I woke up and there was this." He fingers the silver fabric around his neck. "If there were oaths they were small, taken with every step. And I would have made them either way."
Calla stays quiet for a moment, taking in Henri’s words and turning them over.
“I have to say, it sounds like you’re… content? If a little aimless, maybe. I was expecting something different, but I’m not at all disappointed. I suppose we’ll just have to see if my interest is reciprocal”.
Henri grins. "I've very rarely been called content. But yes. I know my place in the world and I know what I want. And I have the power to grasp it. Or will." Henri gives Calla a questioning look. "What were you expecting, if I can ask?"
“You act, sometimes, like someone with a… need. It’s not often that leads to a place of contentment. I, uh, speak from experience.”
She clucks her tongue, shakes her head.
“But before we get into all that, I do have a more specific question. A particular mystery of yours.”
Henri shrugs, a hand rising to scratch at the stubble on his chin. "I was asked once what I would do with power once I obtained it and I didn't have an answer. Now I do. The rest feels... inevitable. Consider me content with the road I am on, not with the position I currently hold." He smiles to Calla, his arms moving until they are outstretched and welcoming. "But please, do ask, cousin. For you, I am an open book."
“It’s simple, really.”
Calla keeps walking but looks at Henri as she does so.“Have we done this before? Or will we have done this, more than once, by the time we’re done?”
Henri's brow furrows in response. "I'm afraid you've lost me, Calla. The Staircase opens to infinite possibilities. Surely one holds a version where this has also happened, if that is what you mean? But as Stellarum said, we cannot risk turning the Infinite against us. I cannot risk it."
“Not the Infinite. Throdrazz. I noted that aside. It dogs me, what they might say only to you, and not in the round”.
Henri's pace slows. "I see. And you wish to know what was said? I am sure you keep private counsel with Kessarax."
“Actually, almost uncharacteristically, no. But you’re right. And I’ll respect your privacy. Especially if it’s nothing to do with our shared timeline.”
Henri nods, quietly. His thoughts elsewhere, his eyes unfocused. He opens his mouth to say something, and then as though convinced by his better angels, closes it again with a tilt of his head. Finally, he ekes out, "I know you ask only to help the family. And to sate your curiosity, I am sure."
Calla chuckles, raises an eyebrow.
“Mysteries. You understand.”
Henri chuckles, low and unsteady. "Of course. And, as you know, I can only offer possibilities. Not answers."
Calla’s laugh shakes her a little before it finds open air. “Of course. I should have known.”
“What a pair we make.”
Co-written with Alex. Fact-checking from Charlie
Calla's shortened surname (Prim) is technically a ‘false friend’, but it rarely feels more apt than when she's in prestigious company. Glamour or no, the moment she steps into the Gilded Mirror, every patron knows she doesn't belong. Bereft of even a summon to do the awkward work for her, she hovers on the threshold. Scanning the gathered crowd for a familiar face.
She finds one, tending bar at the back. Henri leans against the polished surface, chatting softly with one of those many prestigious patrons. A wine bottle gently floats up from the back to refill their glass, and Henri sends them back to the tables with a wink and a grin.
It's only when he scans the room in turn that Calla notices just how hollow the gesture was, as it morphs into something entirely different as his gaze lands on the Mirror's newest guest.
Calla nods and smiles a thin-lipped greeting, and as patrons interrupt Henri's view of her, the distance between them contracts. Two mostly obscured steps, and she's very suddenly at the bar, one blue hand upon it.
It takes only a moment longer for a drink to appear next to it, a layered mixture of yellows and blues and purples that begin to settle into their tall, narrow glass. Henri arrives shortly after it, smiling from ear to ear. "On the house."
The elf tilts her head at Henri’s smile, trying to discern if this one is hollow or true. She decides she can’t tell before taking a small sip of the cocktail. Some fruit she doesn’t recognise. At least two spirits, the same. It’s… very good.
“You’re too kind”. Is that a double meaning? As much as Henri is disarmingly charming, Calla remains inscrutable. “Do you happen to have time for a chat?”
Henri raises an eyebrow in answer, his eyes darting amongst the others at the bar. To a gnome at the other end, he raises a finger, receiving a nod in response.
"For you? All the time in the world. Would you like to grab a booth? Or is this a bit more... sensitive?"
Calla frowns at Henri's turn of phrase, but it's a passing flicker.
"I think some privacy would be best".
Henri nods, raising an arm towards a staircase at the end of the bar. "Then we can use my room, if you like? Or we can take a walk."
“Let’s take a walk,” Calla looks around, “take in some fresh air, some quiet”.
"Of course." Henri makes his way to the side of the bar and out, his progress consistently stymied by a familiar face here, a friendly clap on the shoulder there.
For one, a whisper and a glance to the manager is all that is needed to make their night right.
For others, nothing will do, and Henri contents himself with empty platitudes as he makes his way outside.
Calla watches Henri go, sighs heavily, and then blips back to the door: keen to avoid the further awkwardness of trying to manoeuvre through the crowd.
"Now," he says, pulling his scarf up around his neck to ward off the chill air, "tell me what mysteries befall you and I shall endeavour to offer possibilities."
"I have two mysteries: one partially mine, one entirely yours"
"Is that so." The two begin to walk, slowly, meandering around the side of the Mirror and down the street. Henri throws his head back, looking up at the evening sky, the last few dregs of sunlight upon the clouds.
"Well, let's start with yours, then."
"Very well". Calla looks around, nods to herself, and strides ahead. Within two turns they're on a much less busy avenue. A little out of breath, a little flushed, she slows again to talk.
"As you're no doubt aware, I've... fully tendered my resignation with First Mountain. A necessary and timely option, but one that leaves a... gap... in my repertoire. One I'm especially keen to fill before I take our fight to the Feydark".
She looks aside, slightly embarrassed, but continues.
"In part that's because I don't want any opportunity for him to reassert a claim, in part because I want to be at full strength before trying to defeat my family. But the candidates are largely... sub-optimal."
A hand goes up to count off names. With each, a digit lowered.
"The obvious candidate is Mezza, but I find him intolerable. And, in fact, not one of the Primordials seems like a sensible partner given our ongoing war. Matches' affiliation aside. Tradition would suggest that desperate times call for a pact with the Hells, and I do have Glasya as a... professional contact, but I'm not so short sighted. Even Copernicus seems like a poor choice, longer term. As for the Heavens, I've already established a priestly relationship with Mystra. The Feywild, of course, is unthinkable".
Calla looks back at Henri, and it's sly. Canny, even.
"My standards are high, my strategy demanding, my circumstances requiring of a wide set of contingencies. Realistically, I see only one recourse. One with which you're familiar, who's metal I already wear, who's conjurings I have already studied".
A taught moment hangs in the air.
"The Staircase".
The grin on Henri's face widens as Calla reaches the crescendo, and as she says those two fantastic words, he stops.
The quiet street doesn't appreciate the disturbance, but Henri is not one to care.
"YES!" he shouts. His fist pumps the air. "Haha! Finally! Well, I mean, I'm not sure I appreciate it being your last resort, but Calla!" He strides forward, making up the distance that had grown between them. "Like you say, it's the best option. And there's nothing like it."
“Huh. I was expecting more… pushback? A dire warning maybe.”
With a final step, Henri claps both hands onto Calla's shoulders. There's a silver light in his eyes, wide as they are, saccading across Calla's face. "If a warning is what you need I can go through the motions, but I doubt it would be anything you do not already know. You have already walked those Steps. You know what awaits you, beyond this choice."
Henri's eyebrow raises, as though the thought had only just occurred to him. "Right? Or are there still mysteries you need possible answers for?"
Calla stiffens beneath Henri’s grip “I do have a couple of queries, actually.”
As quickly as his hands had found her shoulders they loosen, falling to his sides and finding his pockets. The light dims in his eyes, the rush of discovery past.
"Of course, dear cousin. What is it you would like to know?"
“Well… if it’s not too personal a question, I know that the Staircase devours the, uh, uninitiated, but what about you? Is your soul bound for that same fate, or no? And secondly, is your agreement with the Staircase itself, or one of its Infinite residents?”
Here Henri takes a few tentative steps forward, continuing their walk. "There is a cost to walking the Staircase, the only difference being how it is paid. Those of us that carry a Call," he says, his finger running against the silver scarf around his neck, "still become part of it after a time, but we become one of the Infinite instead of one of its doors."
He looks to her for a reaction to this news. "Though, from what I have discussed with Pantos, it is not a sure fate. You must choose, at the end, what you will become. But you cannot be both Infinite and Herald."
A breath, and a small frown creases Henri's brow. "My agreement, though. What I have seen happen is that new Chosen are beholden to the Infinite that grants them their Call. Copernicus and Andromeda, for instance. Even Gerhard and Andromeda, for a time, though now he is connected to The Matriarch. It is how the 'family tree' is built. However..." he trails off, the finger now a hand gripping the scarf tightly, "this was given to me by Gerhard. He is not an Infinite, though, so Pantos was then assigned to me by the Matriarch."
Calla nods. Henri’s reply has landed well. She seems almost cheerful to hear of it.
“Honestly, Corellon and I aren’t on the best of terms. My destination should be simple, but being a Herald complicates it, and even if it didn’t, I don’t exactly trust them when it comes to my… end-of-life accounting”.
She quietens a little, and an expression crosses her face that Henri would be unable to parse… had he not been inside Calla’s mind.
“What do you know of The Watcher?”
"Hmm. Thrandruiel? Very little. I don't know precisely where he sits on the tree. Likely beneath The Matriarch, like most of those we have met." Henri's face stays pointed forwards, his only glimpse of Calla from the corner of his eye. "Interested, are we?"
“They seem… interesting, yes”. The back half of her sentence is all but mumbled: “Them or Absalom. Depending on which is… available.”
"The Watcher or The Emissary. Or both." Henri grins, his elbow jutting out to tap Calla's. "Either way we'll be cousins twice over, hmm?"
“If we can come to acceptable terms, yes.”
Henri laughs, his head thrown back to the night air. He composes himself, and replies, "Of course. Though I'm not sure a better deal exists. It is everything, Calla. Infinite possibilities. Infinite mysteries, too, I am sure."
“I won’t lie, it’s a particularly striking partnership. Given my other duties. Even if I forfeit my position as Herald, the oaths I took to Kesserax remain relevant. My successor could find themselves with an enviable ally. Far better that than an ignoble shuffle back into the Elven ranks at the hands of a god keen to humble me”.
“At that point all that remains is to ensure an existence beyond mythic carpentry, to determine a domain, and to iron out the… more personal parts of any partnership. Were there oaths, for you, or more of a deal?”
"I don't know." Henri looks over to Calla, a shrug in the crease of his mouth. "I was just a walker for a while. There was Mister, and the places we went. I still have some gaps. And then I woke up and there was this." He fingers the silver fabric around his neck. "If there were oaths they were small, taken with every step. And I would have made them either way."
Calla stays quiet for a moment, taking in Henri’s words and turning them over.
“I have to say, it sounds like you’re… content? If a little aimless, maybe. I was expecting something different, but I’m not at all disappointed. I suppose we’ll just have to see if my interest is reciprocal”.
Henri grins. "I've very rarely been called content. But yes. I know my place in the world and I know what I want. And I have the power to grasp it. Or will." Henri gives Calla a questioning look. "What were you expecting, if I can ask?"
“You act, sometimes, like someone with a… need. It’s not often that leads to a place of contentment. I, uh, speak from experience.”
She clucks her tongue, shakes her head.
“But before we get into all that, I do have a more specific question. A particular mystery of yours.”
Henri shrugs, a hand rising to scratch at the stubble on his chin. "I was asked once what I would do with power once I obtained it and I didn't have an answer. Now I do. The rest feels... inevitable. Consider me content with the road I am on, not with the position I currently hold." He smiles to Calla, his arms moving until they are outstretched and welcoming. "But please, do ask, cousin. For you, I am an open book."
“It’s simple, really.”
Calla keeps walking but looks at Henri as she does so.“Have we done this before? Or will we have done this, more than once, by the time we’re done?”
Henri's brow furrows in response. "I'm afraid you've lost me, Calla. The Staircase opens to infinite possibilities. Surely one holds a version where this has also happened, if that is what you mean? But as Stellarum said, we cannot risk turning the Infinite against us. I cannot risk it."
“Not the Infinite. Throdrazz. I noted that aside. It dogs me, what they might say only to you, and not in the round”.
Henri's pace slows. "I see. And you wish to know what was said? I am sure you keep private counsel with Kessarax."
“Actually, almost uncharacteristically, no. But you’re right. And I’ll respect your privacy. Especially if it’s nothing to do with our shared timeline.”
Henri nods, quietly. His thoughts elsewhere, his eyes unfocused. He opens his mouth to say something, and then as though convinced by his better angels, closes it again with a tilt of his head. Finally, he ekes out, "I know you ask only to help the family. And to sate your curiosity, I am sure."
Calla chuckles, raises an eyebrow.
“Mysteries. You understand.”
Henri chuckles, low and unsteady. "Of course. And, as you know, I can only offer possibilities. Not answers."
Calla’s laugh shakes her a little before it finds open air. “Of course. I should have known.”
“What a pair we make.”