Days go by...

[Mekare Taryn]

Timestamp
Third Brightening of the Last Cycle of Junctior, Early Autumn
Era X of the Age of the Darkening, Mageocracy of Julos the Mad.

... as they always seemed to do. Almost insignificant to a creature who'd known the passage of time to be almost monotonous, one day blurring into the next in a long line towards eternity. When one had forever to live, the concept of mere days was... well, trivial. Mekare was not one to seek trouble as a general rule, and if ever it found her, she could usually wriggle her way out of it peacefully. Whether by using the diplomatic skills she'd developed during her time in the Imperial Consulate or through sheer force of thought and will, the Lady always sought to show others that there were better ways of resolving conflict than violence. Still, none of that was neither here nor there.

She was also not one to boast of her own power... after all, arrogance was a weakness, one that she'd seen her old friend Alex Nighthawk fall victim to on some occasions. Ah, Nighthawk... the most hot-headed and arrogant elf she'd ever met -- not that she'd met that many. Hermitic life tended to do that to a person; it caused them to be introverted to the point of xenophobia. Nonetheless, the pair of them had become as akin to friends as Mekare ever let herself get. Ah, well... friends were as good a reason as any to spend her neverending days travelling. That was, after all, why the former Consul found herself in Arconis. She'd read in the Herald (something which was indeed a novelty to her these days) that the Enamorian city was hosting a tournament of mages within their walls... and a chance to prove himself the best Elementalist in the Empire just might be enough to draw the elf out of the self-imposed isolation he'd been in since the rise of the Magocracy.

With as little incident as she could manage given the temperament of at least one of the city guards, the fiery-haired beauty passed through the gates astride the back of an ebon mare; otherwise unarmed and apparently harmless. Gone were the dress and trappings of a noblewoman; such things tended to attract more attention than she wanted or was accustomed to, even after several years in the public eye of government service. No, this time she was dressed in a simple cream tunic and slightly darker riding breeches. Well-tanned leather boots graced miniscule feet, and the whole of it all was covered by the single piece of clothing that gave any indication of her financial or social status -- an ivory cloak, plain but for a truly striking piece of embroidery -- the face of a gray wolf, a work of art rarely matched and even more infrequently seen. The woman simply couldn't bear to be parted from it for more than was necessary for a good cleaning. It was a reminder of days long gone; days that could never be regained and were forever mourned. Regret burned bright in the Half-Aelyrian's heart even now, at least a decade after hope had failed.

It could be said that there was no time for tears while she scanned the huddled masses in the streets for her long-lost friend, but it would be said by those who had so much less time than she. Even as the crystalline waters flowed down her pale cheeks, the woman allowed herself to 'hear' the voices of some of those around her... carefully listening in on their thoughts on the chance that one of those 'voices' would be Alex's. Mekare didn't quite know why it was that finding him, or anyone else for that matter, would be so important to her now. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she'd been alone for hundreds upon hundreds of patterns, and had only too briefly known love and friendship. Perhaps the Lady had grown tired of her own voice being the only one she heard for extended periods of time. Gods, maybe it was even that she wanted to remind herself that she was not the only one blessed/cursed with long life. Whatever the case, Arconis seemed as good a place to start as any.

[Alexis Sapientia]

The passage of time was something that bothered Alexis not one bit, for he found that with each new brightening, there was always another snippet of knowledge to be learned, another fact to be discovered, another truth, revealed—and not always while perusing the flimsy pages of an ancient tome or sitting idly within the hallowed walls of a lecture hall. Only a sunsset had passed since he’d learned that he could truly satisfy a woman, despite his young age, and the experience he’d had in doing so was truly one to be savored, appreciated, and recalled with a certain fondness. By the Gods, he loved that woman. Or so he thought as he wandered the streets of the university town, Arconis, dressed in black shoes, beige pants, and the maroon suit so affected by the bound students of The Reg. He was only an initiate sorcerer in training, and thus had no right to wear the long flowing robes that marked the more accomplished pupils of the Arcanum.

Perhaps the world seemed inviting since he was viewing matters fresh with the flush of youth, or perhaps it was because the unforgettable incident at the Carillon had imbued him with an unusually cheery demeanor. Perhaps, it was because knowing one possessed a female’s love, and hearing it recounted repeatedly through hurried, abrupt speech in urgent, gasping tones, could impart such a marked change in one’s being. In any case, the kid was grinning at everyone and everything, and the unusually standoffish and aloof youth was in fact, reaching out to converse with perfect strangers, sharing observations about all and sundry, a spring in his step, a certain lightness to his gait.

It was true that he’d been born in the lap of luxury; literally having a silver spoon in his mouth, and with coins to jingle in his purse as soon as he could walk, traits that without a doubt endeared him to other highborn fellows of his ilk, or others, not so fortunate in circumstance, seeking specie or patronage from the young heir to the House of Sapientia, even if he was barely seventeen patterns old.

Right now, however, he was content being a lowly student at The Reg, a freshman, as it were, ignored, neglected, and overlooked by a majority of the student population thanks to his lowly status in the scholastic pecking order. For that, he was grateful for the obscurity, a position and dignity he’d been searching for nearly all his life. Here, he could be just the way he was without the pomp and circumstance; and essentially remain a fun-loving, young, and restless male youth, living carefree and enjoying the pleasures of life without nary a jot or a tittle of regret or remorse. It was joyous, it was pleasant, and it was, to some extent, the way he’d liked the way things to be.

But by the gods, he loved that woman. Julia Tamara, her with the violin, and the wispy shoulder-length hair that blew softly in the wind, the setting suns from the Khadran mountains shimmering radiantly on her precious face, the down of her cheek like the most expensive Arakmatian leather, the fragrance surrounding her being sufficient to put Jaedexian parfums to shame. He adored her, he cherished her, and, with Ioannes as his witness, he wanted to live with her and be with her for as long as he lived. It wasn’t because she’d given herself freely that late afternoon, oh, goodness, no. The young noble had, too, and either due to the mutual novelty of the concept or the sacredness of the coital experience, he wasn’t quite in complete possession of his faculties as he walked the busy street.

With every blink of his eyes, he transported himself back to the belltower on campus, back to the tender arms of his love, back to the most profound episode of his young life. With that afternoon rapture, he had felt himself immortal, one with the gods, one with the long and treasured history of the Empire, and one with all life on Telath. With every step, he was revisiting that moment, and as he did so, he felt strange that his beau’s deep, heartfelt kiss was sufficient enough to cause him to topple over, back first, onto the cobblestones.

Time seemed to freeze as his foot skidded on smooth stone and loose water, with the laws of physics apparently repealed, as his body temporarily lay suspended, immobile and floating in mid-air, until gravity reasserted its ancient right to claim him as its own. Alexis didn’t mind. With the view of the shining rays of the bright suns from the sky came the face of his love softly calling his name, gazing down on him, giggling in delight, her voice sweet and melodious to his ears as they both entered euphoria. It was so powerful a force that he lost his vision with a great sigh, as Aeternia came to clutch his soul at that precise moment and transport it to the heavens.

Minutes passed until he reentered the land of the living and felt that he could breathe again. A horrible pain at the back of his head chose at that moment to present itself and further aid in his disorientation. It seemed odd that Julia smelled of horseflesh and oat bran. Even more bizarre was why her cries of delight now seemed to be like a neigh, and it was more curious still as to why she was repeatedly poking him on the chest with some horseshoe. It took some time until he could stop squinting, refocus, and finally reveal his bright blue innocent eyes.

[Mekare Taryn]

Tedious. Time-consuming. Boring. All were words which could be used to characterize Mekare's scan of nearby minds, a search that drew out not unlike the long-forgotten blade of a certain rapier from its scabbard. It would take a million eras for the Lady to find Alex amongst the minds of those surrounding her, and while she did perhaps have a million eras to spend, she had nowhere near that patience. Though in any other circumstance the woman did have said virtue in spades, she did not wish to sit in the middle of the street forever, nor did she wish to spend eternity listening to the mind-numbing, neverending rattling of simple minds. Most thoughts heard were concerned with the everyday lives of the people surrounding her... how much an item cost, whether or not a merchant would succumb to incessant haggling, a woman's humming as she went about her daily chores, and so on.

One voice, on the other hand, seemed very near, and very.... odd, to say the absolute least. Ancient jade eyes inspected the surrounding area curiously, finally coming to rest upon a body in the road right in front of her. It always took quite the concentrated effort to locate the source of any given voice, for without perfect and total control over uncharted capability, the Lady would 'hear' the 'voices' of any and all surrounding her every moment of the day. This one, however, was so distinctly out of the ordinary that Mekare located him without too much difficulty. He didn't even seem to be aware of, or (even more strangely) alarmed by the fact that he'd slipped and fallen right in front of the mare upon which she sat. He could have easily been trampled, had the former Consul not been... well, otherwise engaged, but he seemed as indifferent to this fact as he was to all else.

Instead, his mind was preoccupied with... memories. Memories of a woman, and an evening spent in passion... and then, the idiosyncrasy. He was wondering why the woman reminded him so thoroughly of a horse! Brows furrowed in the picture-perfect image of consternation, utterly baffled by such a character. Still, it probably wasn't a good idea to just leave him where he lay (even though it appeared the boy wouldn't mind if she did anyway), and therefore the woman leaned forward to whisper gentle reassurances in the mare's ear before removing her diminutive and graceful form from the beast's saddle. The boy wasn't in his right mind... at least, it didn't seem so. Mekare really wasn't one to get involved in the troubles of strangers. Unfortunately, it didn't appear as though she could avoid this one. He was, after all, lying prostrate and unmoving in her path. The Lady approached the prone figure tentatively, cautiously... ever 'listening' for a potential threat.

Meantime, her mount seemed satisfied with inspecting the young creature before her, muzzle ruffling his hair as the fresh clean scent was welcomed into street water, and thus, becoming much more appealing to the mare. Several gentle passes of the beasts tongue over the boy's coif provided a small but gratifying drink, but now the Lady had to hurry to chastise and distract the curious animal, unwittingly bringing herself all that much closer to the confounding child. Ah, well... he hadn't moved as yet, anyway. Gently Mekare nudged him with a tiny foot.

"Alive or dead?"

It was a simple question, really. Even though she knew the answer, the petite woman thought perhaps she might bring him out of his reverie by asking such a ridiculous question as a means to break his thus far unshakable concentration on the previous few days' memories. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Mekare's face as well... almost. But she remembered love as being a fickle creature, one whose flighty nature caused it to leave as quickly as it had arrived. Alexis' memories only served to remind the woman of exactly why love was so hurtful, and sometimes outright dangerous. In any case, Mekare's own memories were irrelevant to the scenario now playing out before her, and so she prodded for the second time with her foot, quietly demanding an answer to the singular question.

[Alexis Sapientia]

What a callous woman, to be so numb to the sensibilities of an injured being at her feet! If this was how the female defined compassion, by merely kicking a victim in his shins, and a young man at that, to merely ascertain the presence of life or death, then it was no mystery as to why love perenially passed her by; and if by some fluke it collided accidentally with her, it could easily find good reason to abandon all efforts in taming this hopeless excuse for a human female. By the Gods, it would be a more constructive use of time to teach a horizontally-challenged, blunt-nosed, hoofed mammal with short legs, bristly hair, and a curly tail to take to the skies like a brightly hued phoenix.

Perhaps that was why she found herself irritated by simple minds. Simple minds who were continually gripped in the throes of great emotion tended to be content with life despite their humble station. Simple minds who were capable of joy, grief, rage, and tended to express those emotions as handily as they aired their views on market days. Simple minds, who no doubt, would rush speedily to her aid, caring not a whit for her bloodline or the size of her estate, but simply because she was a fellow being in need of relief.

There were beings on this Telath who had no capacity to forgive, and had no faculty to love. Philosophers of yore, such as the Emotionalists claimed that such beings were afflicted with the Malady known as Apatheia, one which struck at those who either had everything in life, or had nothing else to live for. For the Ancient Aelyrians, considering they never were subjected to the pains of emotionalism, until the latter part of the Kingdom, apatheia could be considered their natural state, as their manner of discourse and judgement tended to strictly follow the demands of Orod’s canticles of logic. Considering that the observer to the young noble’s current condition was a corruption of the Ancient Aelyrians, a half-breed, as the commoners tended to view disparagingly, the audience should not have been alarmed at the way she behaved.

But alas, she did, and the manner in which she comported herself in this situation would not endear her to the rest of the populace. A pity, really, that they whom the Gods wished the people to destroy, they first made mad. Or something to that effect. Perhaps this was one of the reasons that had impelled a certain Tirisfalian to call upon the peasants to revolt and upturn this oligarchy, for once highborn folk began acting as so, how could they continue to impress themselves as nobles? How, indeed? What could be so noble in ignoring the plight of a fellow loyal subject of the Empire? Was this not against Lex, Ordo, and Iustatique? Was this not in direct opposition to the Sacred Three?

Surely many a dweller of the heavens wept at the way one of their supposed Brethren regarded the boy. Perhaps such tears served as sufficient physic for the student to awaken, and so set young eyes upon Lady Callous Heart.

“Oh…such pain that travels through my skull. Fie upon such foul luck. Verily, my lady, perchance regale me of what has passed while my vision was cloaked in darkness, for naught I recall. Indebted to thee, should I be? To mine aid did thee flee? Prithee!”

[Mekare Taryn]

Indeed, perhaps callous was a word that could very possibly be used to describe the Lady that greeted the young man's eyes. Callous, indifferent, or (which was the most likely of the three) deliberately detached... aloof, even. By no means was it without reason -- while it was true that perhaps her lack of emotion could be attributed to the Aelyrian portion of her bloodline, it was also true that she was an aberration by virtue of her Human heart. In the relatively short span of time that Mekare had even been in contact with the so-called 'civilized' world, she had discovered that emotion was a double-edged sword -- yes, it was a gift. It was a precious, powerful offering not to be taken lightly. It was, likewise, a curse. She felt emotion far more mightily than any normal Human could possibly imagine.

Love had not fled her -- it had been torn from her. She had found it more than a lifetime ago for this youngling, and had allowed it to run rampant through every fiber of her being for several long eras until the day it was rent from her by the Human capacity for hate and fear of her paramour. Had anyone told the Lady on that day that she would eventually love again, she might have laughed bitterly at them. But as Fate would have it, another passionate romance would find its way to her not long afterwards, once again to rip her heart out through circumstance -- and death. Even the few friendships she'd fostered throughout her time in the Empire had been lost -- as always, to simple chance. Six eras of Mekare's life had been literally erased -- taken, as it were, by outside forces she neither understood nor cared to. For the former Consul fleeing the Isle of the Crown in the wake of attacks by creatures so horrific they defied description, it had been only the passing of a few hours. For the rest of the world, two patterns had marched on by. It was no wonder, then, that every friend she'd had in Telath had presumed her dead, or had met their own ends themselves.

However surprising or offensive anyone might find it, it was for these reasons that Mekare kept herself, and her susceptibilities, at a distance from the outside world now. As mightily as she felt love, joy, peace, enthusiasm, and every reason for enjoying this life -- this eternity; she felt disappointment, heartbreak, apathy, sorrow, and every reason for wishing death upon herself just as powerfully. Indeed, not only did Mekare feel the need to keep her own emotions at bay for the sake of holding her sanity, she felt the need to keep a veritable sea of others' sensibilities at a distance as well, lest she lose herself to it. Hopeless? Sentenced to a life devoid of any Human affection or friendship? Perhaps she was. But Life would not make a madwoman of this Lady... at least, not today.

Patiently and in silence Mekare crouched next to the boy, one pale, lithe hand running through his hair in search for the blood that could very possibly be there. He had taken a bad fall, by all indications. Still, even though she could not involve herself in his memories, and could not allow herself to foster any semblance of an attachment to him, she could help him. He was in need of it, anyway. If he had been alert to her rather poor choice of words initially, perhaps some day he might be able to forgive her the temporary lapse in consideration for others' feelings; an occurrance that often stemmed from a combination of long years as a hermit and the need to maintain emotional distance. Even so, Mekare's eyes betrayed her mind, if not her heart... the shadow of compassion lingered in her eyes as the boy's weak voice reached her ears.

So often Mekare's Human soul won out over Aelyrian indifference without her consent.

Sigh.

"You fell... I do not know how, or when. I did not see it happen. I know only that I found you here afterwards... and I fear that I may not be able to help you as much as you or I would like, for I do not know this city. Unless, of course, you can help me while I help you? Do you know of a healer, or a cleric anywhere in the city?"

[Alexis Sapientia]

Compassion, love, and cheerful human feelings were far from the boy’s mind, at the moment.

The first thought that entered his head was that the person he was talking to was a half-wit idiot. Then again, on further reflection, perhaps he was the half-wit idiot. Difficult to ascertain considering that throbbing that began in his head and joined with his bloodstream, but perhaps, given time, he’d be back to his usual well-groomed, elegant, and angst-ridden self come darkening. Or morning. Depending on what time of day it was. He squinted once more, and thought he heard words.

He tried to stand up, and thankfully, he could, staggering to and fro like a drunk. The last time he did that was in Taralon, when he and Milo had a bit too much to drink, and a palace guard later gleefully recounted that the young noble had been conversing with all flora, fauna, and other unspeaking sundry. Certainly he was with a speaking being, one that could converse, for she was mentioning something about a healer, and a cleric.

“I…” He put his right hand to his temple. “I…” He blinked his eyes, and tried to focus once more. “I…I’m…Alexis…yes, that’s right…Alexis…Sapientia. And you are…” He managed to lay clear sight on her, noting her manner of dress, and the intelligence that shone in her eyes. He blinked once more and cleared his throat. “…you, my lady, are a vision. I think. You’re no commoner, I can tell. Apologies, I know this is an odd manner of meeting. Goodness knows what madness I’ve been blabbering earlier”. He tried on a proud smile, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his face. “I think I’ll be all right”.

He brushed off dirt from his coat sleeves and the seat of his pants, and wiped them with his hankie. “Terrible business, ah, but these things happen. I’m a student at the Reg. The Regio, that is. The Regio Eruditonem Arconis. Taking up initiate sorcery. Are you here for the tournament?”

[Mekare Taryn]

Blink.

Dazed, woozy and quite obviously incoherent, the boy shambled to his feet as awkwardly as a newborn goat taking its first steps, yet still insisted upon offering reassurances of his well-being… as if by simply doing so, Mekare would take him at his word and dismiss the entire incident. Alexis Sapientia, child of seeming clumsiness and strange manners, introduced himself and continued on to offer one of the most unique compliments the Lady had ever heard. A vision, indeed. Jaded eyes peered at the boy skeptically as one lithe hand reached out to offer aid… a strong arm to steady the youngling’s feet should he need it. Willing delicate facial features into a smile warm as a summer’s day, the woman was still concerned. Despite his objections, it did appear as though he might be hurt.

“Are you quite sure that you are not in need of a healer? You are not as quick on your feet as I suspect you should be. But yes, I am here for the tournament. Are you to be in competition?”

He was well-dressed, certainly. His own judgment of her birth was not entirely accurate… she’d not been born nobility, but she had attained it through hard work and determination. He, on the other hand, appeared high-born and well-educated… Mekare wondered idly from what family he had hailed. Something clicked inside her mind then, a question that she had not, as yet, answered.

“I am the Lady Taryn.” she said simply. No ties to House, no place of birth… no physical or genealogical tie to her title could be given, or found, for that matter. She simply was.

[Alexis Sapientia]

“Competition? Oh, goodness, no. I’m just a student here at The Reg…” He looked at her puzzlingly. “Initiate sorcery. I’m sure I just mentioned that…” His brow knotted as he wondered if he had just repeated himself, or if his mind was merely playing tricks on him. If so, is she a mystic? And do I really need a healer? Surely it’s nothing, just a bump, a scratch, nothing a good swig or a feminine kiss couldn’t handle. With that he respectfully declined need for a restorative, despite the mild throbbing in his head, which he bravely set aside with a manly smile, though his eyes betrayed some discomfort. I feel like I’ve hand yet another one of those long darkenings sipping tipple with Milo. That brought a hint of embarrasment to his cheeks, causing him to fidget a bit.

“No doubt you’ve seen me at my worst, clara or no clara. Apologies, I’d be foolish to be setting myself against such experienced individuals myself, yes ma’am.” He grinned wryly as he mentioned the self-deprecating remark. “I’m a mere initiate, certainly not worthy to compete with them directly, much less have the honor to observe or engage in polite discourse with them.” Another smile.

Running a hand through his shock of hair, the Hospodar of Krytzillikinarnessus noted that the only injury he’d apparently suffered was a terrible blow to his ego, and a regrettable laceration of his pride. Perhaps even a mislaid slight or two. Certainly if he’d noticed how he currently appeared, with stains on his coat and the smell of a horse’s mouth on his crown, he’d be of a mind that he’d been physically mutilated and set upon by a gang of vandals, intent on destroying his impeccable image.

Alexis wasn’t a conceited fellow whose vanity knew no bounds. He was just fastidious in his appearance, and proud of it, but not effeminate, not a ‘half-man’, as others would claim. He had the normal desires of a male youth, but had the patrician’s presence of mind not to indulge them when convention deemed it inappropriate. Certainly a certain counsel, learned in the law, a conservator of the people who’d deemed himself the public defender of the good people of Taralon could attest to [i]all[/I of that, and in open court if need be.

Beneath the boy’s shy exterior, however, was reposed the pure heart of a child, while behind his bright blue eyes lay a keen mind. Unfortunately, that mind had been distracted by the visage of a female violinist, but certainly, that little error he’d just experienced did not detract from the quality of the organic machinery. There was need for more lubrication and more frequent remedial maintenance, but otherwise, it was a relatively capable in performing most daily tasks.

“My Lady Taryn.” He politely nodded acknowledgement, and gently took her right hand, and pressed it to his lips. “I am honored to make your acquaintance. Alexis Sapientia, of Habichtsbergen, in the Eunesias, but late of Taralon.” He gazed into her eyes. I’m pretty sure I’ve said that already. Did I forget? Why then am I feeling this strange sense of déjà vu? Another puzzle for the young noble to ponder upon and late solve. In the meantime, more questions to be sought from his new acquaintance, if he could call it that.

He locked his blue eyes with her as his already-ruffled hair was further discomposed by an errant gust of wind, which certainly sent a few leaflets and other mobile debris a-scurrying from the cobblestone road.

“Are you a competitor in the tournament, My Lady, or may I have the pleasure to presume that you are to be a distinguished observer of this spectacle as well? If you have naught for company, may I have the privilege to serve as your guide?”

[Mekare Taryn]

The boy's mind was a mess of thoughts, mostly having to do with wondering whether or not he'd not said something before. Indeed, he did not seem to have all of his faculties intact... if he did, he would certainly appear to be more scatterbrained than the eternally confused cuckoo, constantly attending the nests of others and abandoning its own. Nonetheless, he was charming enough, and as he brought his lips to one pale, lithe hand, Mekare could not help but smile... genuinely, this time. Gods, but he was talkative, though. Perhaps it was for the best... so often she spent her eternal days in silence, with only the inner voices of others to keep her company. Though it was better than total silence, the physical interaction of it all was what she missed most. She missed actually talking to someone. It was beginning to look like the tournament was going to be a worthwhile pastime after all, even if she did not find the one person she was really looking for. Ah, well... there were worse ways to spend her day than with a chatterbox whose mind held no guile. He was honest, at the very least, and not a pompous, self-important brat like most noble-born boys were wont to be.

"Likewise, dear Alexis. Eunesia... you hail from a seafaring home yourself, then. I was not born in any city, you see, but I have called Port Alyxandrya home for many patterns."

The woman mused silently over the mention of her first encounter with 'civilization' as she knew it... and the City of Queens would forever be in her heart. Indeed it was home. Too long had she seen it suffer at the hands of others, and she wished she had some way of remedying its ills. Sadly, Mekare had been out of touch with the Empire for far too long, and was now not much good to anyone these days, except herself. The thought brought an obvious frown to her face, until she remembered that she was, in fact, with a guest of sorts. He was asking yet more questions, certainly not the kind as to make the woman uncomfortable, but questions nonetheless. She laughed.

"No, no... sadly, I have no knowledge of arcana whatsoever. I am merely a spectator, and of course you may join me. I know nothing of your serving me, or being my guide... perhaps you can simply be a companion? And you are absolutely sure you are not in need of a healer? I cannot have you collapsing in the middle of the road, you know..."

The Lady continued to hold her arm out to the boy, steadying him for as long as he needed it. He still seemed a bit dizzy, but he was not bleeding, and other than being a bit disoriented and disorganized in thought, he appeared just fine. Still, there was no harm in making absolutely certain. Taking hold of the reins of the ebon mare upon which she'd ridden into the flourishing city of art and odd boys that fall in the middle of roads, emerald eyes searched Alexis' face earnestly, hoping he would tell her the truth if there were any cause for concern.

[Alexis Sapientia]

So she was the Lady Taryn.

He just stood there, naively blinking like some oafish immigrant fresh off the boat. Perhaps it was merely his young age, for was it his fault that he knew not the name Alexander Nighthawk, or, pray tell, even Rothchild, for that matter? They were certainly beyond his time, and for all his newfound acquaintance knew, the kid may have been marshalling armies of wood when the Imperial Regents took their turn at command of the behemoth that was the Imperial Army and Navy.

So she was the Lady Taryn.

To the boy’s eyes, fur around a lady always looked stylish, provided that they were in the cooler parts of the Empire, and particularly even so if the stuffed animal’s head was not visible from view. Only avant-garde fashion houses like, say, Turien’s of Medonia would dare do such a thing, and with little social penalty for that. Then again, if Alexis knew anything about Miss Mekare’s social stature, perhaps he would have understood. Ladies of her particular rank didn’t really care what other people thought, so far secure was she with her own status in society. And if they did complain, what did it matter? Such was the manner of thinking of his aunt, Eliza, the Chatelaine of Nijlgednyjek.

Alas, the boy was clueless. That in itself was a good thing, considering that he was billetted at one of the finest centers of learning throughout the Empire, for wasn’t it said that an empty mind was more malleable to a teacher? Or was it more malleable because he was at an impressionable young age? The Regio Eruditonem Arconis had stayed here and lasted the test of time, and perhaps with the grace of Ioannes, and the continuing support of its heavy-pursed loyal alumni, bright young faces, eager to learn, would continue streaming in, giving the tenured musicians, playwrights, and aging master mages something else to do to while away the time.

So, the fact still remained, that she was the Lady Taryn.

There were different ways she could have received that particular dignity. She could have married into aristocracy, she could have performed some useful service to the bearer of the Aethercrown…she could have been like Alexis, and most probably was born into it.

The boy wasn’t stupid, however. Far from it. He had the inquisitive eyes and a keen mind of a youth, not to mention a sharper tongue that usually came with that incorrigible age. Thankfully he had enough of gentility training to know that there was more to patrician responsibility than mere copulation—what the more ill-mannered among tokenly them referred to as ‘stud service’—and he likewise had the character to do something else besides lazing away at some country estate, waited upon hand and foot. Alexis was a part of the progressive aristocracy, which some would scoff at as being a contradiction in terms, but sneer all they wanted, this boy was a proud citizen and loyal subject of the Empire as well, and would do his damndest to further better it.

At the moment, he decided that the Lady Taryn needed some company. If there was something Alexis was hopeless at, it was the damsel-in-distress routine. He couldn’t stop it, he was drawn to such a thing as a moth was to flame, or as a similarly incorrigible sometimes-bachelor Lieutenant Governor whose exploits were well known miles away from the cities of Port Alyxandrya and Medonia, respectively, was to women, period; but one digresses. Alexis was a youth, and, say what one may say about the hidden motivations of youths, but this one wasn’t in it for pecuniary or amorous advantage, unlike a majority of his unfettered, unlettered, pedestrian, compatriots.

He was, as they say, born to it.

And so it was that he politely took her hand, and gestured her towards the sprawling complex of The Reg, and the towering Carillon that stood silent watch over them all. This was Alexis’ home for the moment, and by the gods, he was never more prouder than to show it off for a stranger within the Arconian gates. Perhaps he could even brighten her mood, and to any real gentleman, brightening a fair lady’s demeanor was reward enough, comparable to any honors received from any issuing authority.

Again, he was...born…to it.

“My Lady Taryn,” he said, with an eager smile, “…might I have the honor, no, the pleasure…nay, the privilege, to introduce you to the brightest beacon of learning in all of South Enamoria, The Regio Eruditonem Arconis?”

Who knows, perhaps we’ll even come across Gilded Gil’dae…and it’ll be a kick for him to see me with... he smiled gallantly at her, …this dignified lady from the City of Queens.

[Mekare Taryn]

Without missing a beat the Lady allowed the youngling to take her hand... to call him a boy would be not only inappropriate, but most probably incorrect. Alexis seemed both charming and pleasant to behold, both characteristics which would not keep him a boy for very long at all. Indeed, the memories she had gleaned from his mind whilst he lay at the feet of her mare were enough of an indication to the contrary that the woman wouldn't be so crass as to continue to refer to him as a boy, at least, not aloud. Still, mere sexual maturity did not designate one as a man, not by any means... but as if to argue his point further, Alexis offered his hand honestly and without any ulterior motive, except, perhaps, to be seen with one such as herself. How he could consider being seen with Mekare as a means to garner prestige among his friends was beyond the woman's comprehension, but if it pleased him, she would play along... at least for now. The truth be told, if that was his only proviso for offering a day's companionship, she would agree, freely and gladly. One ancient, lithe hand closed around that of an eager young man. She was old enough to be his grandmother several generations over, but still did not appear more than a mere twenty-eight patterns... which was all the more to her own advantage should the boy prove anything less than trustworthy. Gently she reminded him of the animal which stood huffing in the impending cold of autumn twilight, the same one which she held by the reins and with which she had nearly trampled Alexis.

"Ah, Storm Haven's newest rival is to be the first stop on our tour, is it? I do wish to either stable the young mare here or continue with getting her some excercise, lest she be caught out in the chill of evening without her own body heat to keep her warm. Which shall it be? A sunset ride, or the stables?"

Of course he couldn't have forgotten that Port Alyxandrya's Storm Haven Academy was one of the oldest and finest universitas on the face of Telath. It stood among the upper echelons of learning, had stood the test of time and conflict... Mekare could still remember the rumours of the battles for the City of Queens against the forces of Darkness. Though she'd not been involved in the war itself, she had served as Imperial Consul throughout those dark days, choosing espionage as her means of contributing to the common cause, and seeing to it that both Nighthawk and Rothchild were well-informed enough to lead the people to victory with fewer casualties as would otherwise be expected. Yes, the Academy stood as a testament to what a united people could accomplish in the name of good. The boy couldn't have forgotten this... therefore, it was up to the Lady to assume that he'd simply been too wrapped up in pride for his own universitae to remember that he stood hand in hand with a Port Alyxandryan... not a native, perhaps, but as close to one as he would find here in Arconis. Ah, well... to the young, a little forgiveness, and a little leniency.

The fiery-haired beauty offered Alexis the warmest of smiles even as she reached, reins in hand, to retract the ivory silks of the cloak's hood which adorned luminescent locks. An exquisite one she was, fair as any of the Ancients in a bloodline that would grant her an ætherial quality none could match. She was pale, certainly... soft-skinned and nearly matched to the creamy folds of cloth draped over slender shoulders. The emerald green of the forests were reflected in her eyes as she regarded the boy, awaiting an answer with the patience of one who had all the time in eternity to wait.

[Alexis Sapientia]

Was it sunsset already? By the gods, how time must fly when one is having fun.

The Lady Taryn may have appeared to be a dull, morose, elderly…err, a more experienced elf blessed with ageless grace, drowning in self-despair when she’d entered the city by the foot of the Khadran mountains, but perhaps her experience with this…youngling…still fresh with the flush of youth was proving to be as beneficial as a trip to medicinal springs, or, say, a nice evening spent with the female elf’s own compatriots. Spending darkenings at the Roost without companions was anathema to Alexis’ way of thinking, and perhaps, by some strange mind-meld of which even the most wizened of arcane masters knew naught of, they’d each managed to find a kindred, perhaps even lonelier spirit. While all the Lady Taryn may have been seeking was someone to share her frustrations and collected angst with, the Hospodar of Krytzillikinarnessus was actually starved for profound and intelligent conversation, one that drew upon the wisdom of the ages. A strange dichotomy, perhaps, which evidently would have reversed their usual roles, but perhaps Ioannes did work in mysterious ways. Yes, indeed, perhaps they were kindred, lonely, spirits.

Ioannes knew, the boy missed his mummy terribly, and this may have been the reason why he was so starved for a female’s affections, even going so far as to...well, perhaps that incident with the delightful Miss Julia Tamara could be laid upon the door of mutually hormonal youthful needs, instead.

Now with regard to his spending eras without any social life at all, merely locked in his mind and brooding about the past, that was a fate worse than death. Ask Alexis. He’d spent a pattern in Taralon doing just that, until that letter from Habichtsbergen Palace came and freed him from anti-social bondage. The thought that the Lady Taryn may have been doing nothing but sulk in self-pity all this time since the fall of the regents would probably have earned her a young man’s tight hug in commiseration. Goodness knows, he was a walking receptacle of empathic unconditional love. Perhaps that was why the upperclassmen at The Reg teased him so, and while it might have been his sorcerer’s robes that kept them away from physically striking him, even without a mystic’s gifts, he knew that they were there, laughing behind his back, taunting him for his naiveté. Damn them all to Jorel.

“Perhaps a sunsset ride?” Alexis asked with a boyish enthusiasm and a young man’s confident and eager smile, his face brightening up marvelously as he did so.

“Surely it wouldn’t do for me to merely collapse once more and leave Your Ladyship’s side just like that.” He said in further explanation and nodded disparagingly to that place where he’d been lying prostrate earlier. “It’s been eras since I’ve spent time with Byron, my mount, and, I do have to say that touring the breadth of the campus is Jorel on the knees.” He kissed her hand with a bit of an involuntary blush, which he horribly failed in stifling. Though Julia possessed his heart, surely it didn’t hurt to express a bit of gratitude, right?

Now here came the awkward part. Certainly he’d let her mount first, and assist her in doing so, but would he risk genteel adults’ alarmed mutterings by staying behind the Lady Taryn and holding tight to her miniscule stomach as they galloped off into the sunsset, or would he risk getting pilloried by fellow students as the female held him close to her maternal bosom as she handled the horse’s reins?

The latter he could deal with more easily, and perhaps unconsciously needed, of course, but in the end, it would be the Lady Taryn’s election. Surely she possessed the accumulated wisdom of the ages with which to base her decision.

[Mekare Taryn]

Indeed the wisdom of the ancients could be found in the woman's eyes, but it stemmed not from wallowing in self-pity for more than a decade, no... to the contrary; Mekare had, in the not too distant past, spent a solid two eras with creatures of myth and legend. Creatures which had taught her that agony, ecstasy, love, hatred, jealousy, even death were all as nothing... all were but fleeting, petty things when compared with the ultimate purpose of all things living -- to continue the cycle, to maintain the balance. To perpetuate Life. Nymphs they had been, children and servants of Nature itself... to them, emotion was but a fading dream, something which they experienced only when Nature itself had been wronged. Two eras she had spent in their communion, learning from them how and when to protect and preserve all things living, and how to control her own emotions that she might not be a slave to them. Under their tutelage she had learned to live as they did, taking only what she needed of the Forest to survive, using her gifts to understand and communicate with every living thing around her.

Without them, the Lady might not have ever made peace with herself or the world around her. Afflicted by many sorrows she had been when they found her, unable to control the gifts bestowed upon her by the Aelyrian bloodline she hadn't known she possessed, and very nearly mad after she'd made the rather idiotic mistake of trying to learn to control her mental power through her own volition. The Ætherfracture had not been kind to Mekare, not at all... she had lost six full eras of her life to it in a mind-boggling time warp she still did not completely understand. To this very day the pale beauty swore that only an hour, certainly not more than two, had passed between the catastrophic shattering of the Æthergem with its subsequent horrors and the terrifying flight to mainland shores. What she found waiting instead was a world that had marched forward in time without her, and had gone through rather drastic changes itself. The illegal rule of a Magocracy, all friends and loved ones dead or missing, six eras of her life gone in the blink of an eye... all were the beginning of sorrows for Mekare. Confused, bitter and in a state of shock, she had fled Prime, not caring whither she went and truly expecting to find her death, she had instead found the Wood and all its wonders. When the Gods themselves had failed (and she had personally witnessed their failures), Nature had been both a teacher and a guide.

Mekare now followed the ways of the Wood and Her children. No more could the gods be found in her prayers... and the truth was, she found more comfort and strength in the will of the Mother than she'd ever felt praying to any Ætherian god or goddess -- because Nature was absolute, and did not hold to any personal grudge, or to petty greed. When even the gods themselves were subject to the whims of their emotions, perhaps then emotion itself was unnecessarily emphasized and counted upon to dictate one's actions. Therefore, the will of Nature was such that emotion needed to be carefully kept under control... but that was not so easy. Even now the Lady could feel herself beginning to like the boy that held and kissed her hand so freely, could feel herself being swept up into the charms of his boyish smile and sheepish blush. She nodded, gazing up into Alexis' face and realizing perhaps for the first time that he was a tall drink of water for his age, which only succeeded in emphasizing her own miniature figure.

"A ride it is, then."

Her words were swift and to the point as she turned to mount the ebon mare, expertly swinging herself up into the saddle as if she'd done so thousands of times. Indeed she was a remarkable horsewoman, despite her size, and without a word she gently patted the rather sizable space in the saddle behind her.

"I do hope you don't mind... you see, this mare is but a yearling, not long from her mother and as yet unaccustomed to being handled by anyone but me. I'm sure I could still take the reins were you to sit in front of me, but then your height would obscure my view... unless you enjoy riding blind?"

The woman's smile became both impish and wicked in the same instant; she had an inkling of what his reaction might be, but it was always an amusing sport to watch anyway. Dignified and absolutely committed to act in a manner befitting her station she might be, but even one such as Mekare could not pass up the opportunity to make a game of life. Anyone who could was certainly not a happy or even content person... life was serious and sometimes dire as it was without the gift of laughter to supplement it. Lovingly the Nymphs had taught her that, as well. How grand that they had given her so many more gifts than she could ever have asked for, including fond memories to revisit in times when despair would have its way. And Alexis had helped, in his own small way... even if it were only to remind her that indeed she had far more pleasant memories than she had unpleasant ones. For that, she would be perhaps eternally grateful.

[Alexis Sapientia]

The kid was familiar with the habits of horses, having grown up with, and as late as two patterns ago, been in the kind possession of one by the name of Byron, but what the lady was proposing was…ridiculous. Ride behind her? What would the other adults think? They’d be scandalized, and considering that I’m still wearing the crimson suit that marks me out as a student of The Reg, surely I’d be singled out for being…

It was simple, really. Do you want to ride, Alexis? The memory of the breeze rushing past his cheeks, of earlier, carefree early brightenings at Habichtsbergen made his mind up for him, and without his even knowing it, he’d nodded assent. Before he could even ascertain his actions, he was already behind her, gingerly, and with great chagrin, setting his youthful hands by her womb…and keeping a respectful distance from her, of course.
“Thank you, my lady. I…of course.” Of course, he understood riding blind was a great hazard, but still…

He’d hesitantly informed the Lady Taryn of his intentions, of course, before performing the same, and while there was no malice in that forethought, it didn’t stop him from feeling like the normal adolescent that he was...sheepish, of course, but since he’d beheld more of Julia’s charms, surely, there was no harm with his hands a-clutching a strange female’s stomach, and a noble lady’s at that. Be that as it may, he still felt a bit ill at ease.
Whispering behind her left ear, he wondered aloud.

“My Lady, where should you like to sightsee first? I believe we’ve still time to view some of the arcana contests, or would you prefer to explore the campus grounds, first?” He looked a bit worried. “I’m not certain of the precise time, the sky isn’t that good an indicator of the precise candlemark, but as something of an artist, I must contend that painting it is more pleasurable. As you can see, the Khadran mountains make a good backdrop, despite the absence of trees.” He felt a bit pleased with himself for saying that.

“Then again, if your ladyship seeks nourishment, I might recommend the Scholar’s Roost for later on, if hunger proves more formidable than the…oh!”

He nearly fell off when the horse chose to assert itself once more, and he felt more oddly when his clasped hands pushed onto her delicate abdomen.

Yikes. He steadied himself with a dissimilar smile, one that widened with a bit of perturbment, and on the other hand, with a bit of a grin. It had been a while since he’d last done this, and the thought of revisiting a favored childhood memory pleased him to no end, particularly with the harrowing events that had been revealed…to him…by Nell…in Taralon. The smile was replaced with a heavy sigh and a heaviness of heart, as the devastating thoughts seared through his consciousness. It took most of the ride to their next destination, traversed in near-silence. It was a strange contrast to the animated verbosity the boy had shown earlier.

Perhaps the youthful loneliness was to blame, for, despite his tryst with the female violinist, the young noble still found himself seeking…something. Many had speculated that it was the aimlessness of youth to blame, easily corrected with the switch of a whip. Use the rod and beat the child, the ancients had said, but current scholars found that mere conversation aided in reducing many this feeling of apathy, of indifference, of seeming indolence. Truth be told, this strange emotion was nothing more than a youngling’s way of finding what was true for himself, and, as many of his peers would attest, conversing with someone with the requisite experience helped calm such multifarious questions. It helped to put some sense in what seemed to be a large, complex world, one that couldn’t be understood even given the gift of eternal time.

Perhaps they were bonding, this strange match of an ageless half-Ancient and a youthful pure mortal, both privileged, both seeking…perhaps that which could never be sought, but which they would strive to, nevertheless.

To take his mind off his sorrow, the boy later whispered once more into the lady’s ear, hoping that doing so wouldn’t tickle her and so distract from navigating the mount.

“My lady…tell me about Port Alyxandrya? Is it true that it is a wonderful place to escape to? I feel that I may be in need of the same…” Another heavy sigh, and if she had turned around, she would have seen some sorrow mist in the boy’s eyes. I don’t want to be alone anymore. That would have been another thought for her to peruse if she had the ability to read minds.

If the lady knew what other notions currently resided in the boy’s mind, perhaps she could take comfort in the fact that indeed, she suffered not alone. As Mekare had taken rejuvenating repose in the wombs of the primordial mother, perhaps the boy sought a variant of the same, with the same passion she sought one Alexander Nighthawk.

[Mekare Taryn]

Instantly all mischief faded from the smooch porcelain of the Lady's features, and her smile turned instead to one of almost motherly amusement. Without a doubt he was embarrassed by the whole situation; the gentleman in him wanting to maintain every sense of propriety that he could, while the young man in him waged a powerful battle towards the contrary. Within moments Alexis had taken a place behind Mekare in the saddle, gently and awkwardly explaining the intentions behind his actions. Warm, young male hands closed about the woman's belly, which had not yet seen the travails and consequences of childbirth. Her flesh was firm under his grasp, and strong, perhaps stronger than a man of his eras might expect. Ancient emerald eyes turned towards the sky as Alexis asked where she might like to go, and expressed his uncertainty of the hour itself. The diminutive immortal had seen innumerable sunsets, perhaps more than she cared to admit even to herself, and the boy had either not clued in to that fact, or he was merely being polite -- one way or the other, fear was not evident in him, and this pleased the woman greatly. Ah, to be young and without worry...

"We have perhaps two hours until twilight. Does your city have street lamps by which to continue our ride, or are we limited by daylight? Hunger does not strike me until the late evening hours as a rule, and now you have me curious... what is the reason why the Khardrans possess no trees?"

No more than the gentlest of proddings caused the mare to begin a noisy clatter down the street with a start -- and the equine apparently hadn't been the only one surprised by the sudden change in pace. Alexis' hands tightened about Mekare's body, and it seemed as if the boy in him had managed a foothold in his mind, at least temporarily. However, it wasn't long before he lapsed into an altogether unfamiliar silence. This puzzled the woman a bit; one that seemed so chatty before had suddenly turned towards darker thoughts. His mind was too chaotic to give her a clear picture of just what might have happened, but in the end, it was all taken over by a tide of loneliness which the Lady herself couldn't match. How was it that someone so young and full of life seemed so empty, so hollow? He seemed even more alone than Mekare had ever been throughout her days as a hermit in the wilderness... a thought which was indeed troubling. Nonetheless, rather than speak and alert him to the fact that she could slip into his mind at will (a fact which often frightened even the most stalwart of mortals), she kept her silence until he chose to break it... which he did sooner rather than later.

"My lady…tell me about Port Alyxandrya? Is it true that it is a wonderful place to escape to? I feel that I may be in need of the same…"

The woman's brows shot upwards... apparently this boy did not realize what he asked of her... at least, not the extent of it. Still, if it would help ease some of his pain... the same pain which often beleaguered her own mind... she would accomodate him, at the very least.

"Ah, Port Alyxandrya. Indeed it is a wonderful place to escape, but it is treacherous as it is beautiful. Escape you may find there, yes, but you may also find shackles to put upon your feet... whether they be physical ones or not. Still, I must digress. What specifically is it that you would like to know? Do you wish to know of the city itself, it's history, it's people, or simply what pleasures are to be found there?"