NationStates Jolt Archive

(continued on from here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=64400&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=80) so's we don't hijack the thread ... lets see where this goes. *grins*)

Nathicana felt a rush of expectation as Cavile made his presentation to D'ron and Lesley, then escorted her to the edge of the platform.

Looking out at the view for a moment, she tilted her head questioningly, opened her mouth to ask ... and let out a brief, surprised shriek as he wrapped his arm around her waist and leapt off into nothingness. The sudden appearance of the dragon below had her eyes as wide as the leap, and she clung tightly to Cavile as he swung her up behind him.

Unashamed, she wriggled and tugged on her dress with one hand, working it up over her thighs, barely remaining decent. She didn't care. Sidesaddle was no secure way to be riding, ladylike or not. Her other arm still tight around his chest, she carefully repositioned herself, sliding in against him, admittedly taking comfort in the closeness, wrapping her other arm around him, locking her hands together.

She watched as the countryside sped away beneath them, fascinated, yet ... anxious. This was nothing like her shuttle. The feel of the great beast beneath her, the rush of the wind, the certainty of death should she fall from this height ... She tightened her grip, remembering just in time not to tighten too much.

"You son of a bitch," she said breathlessly, suddenly breaking into a laugh, the adrenaline taking over.

The Dragon swept upward, its immense muscles straining between Nathicana’s legs as it soared towards the clouds. Tiny spurts of flame flashed from between the great beast’s fearsome jaws, creating a scent akin to that from a dozen floral candles, and the sun shone off its gleaming purple scales. Then, the sky of the Federation of Sentient Peoples gave way to utter darkness, lit only by the Dragon’s breath, and a bitter cold, that bit into Nathicana’s body like a knife.

And then the sun returned, shining more brightly than before, and glistening on the tips of the waves, which rushed by below. The Dragon sank down, until its talons were nearly brushing the waters, and accelerated, moving nearly as swiftly as sound itself, yet the winds did not tear savagely at Nathicana’s face, but swept gently past, and the crashing waves below withheld their spray, so that her dress remained as dry as when she had left the party, and all the while, Cavile sang, his voice melding with her laughter and the rushing winds, which did not carry away the sound, but caught it, and wrapped it around them, and the delicate sound of his lyre flowed throughout.

Then, far away on the horizon, Nathicana saw an elegant pink tower, which spired upwards through the clouds, even as the waves crashed upon the rocks below its slender base.

<tag, since it is my fault>

<wonders what the 'sleep of the Orchid" is, and why is must be shared>

Flowers? Surely not the dragon ...

The scent was pleasant, vaguely familiar in a way similar to her own private residence with its gardens and the candles she loved to have burning in quiet moments ... but this was heavy, intoxicating.

As the sky shifted to black, she tensed, and gasped sharply at the sudden cold. Her eyes wide, she peered out at the darkness, huddled close to Cavile for warmth.

No, this isn't right. This ... the scent, the rush ... I'm hallucinating, surely.

The darkness left as quickly as it came, a new vista blending into existance. It didn't make sense to her logical mind. The wind, the familiar ocean spray, the sudden shift in locations, even the great beast that bore them tirelessly was completely outside her frame of reference. Still ... she was caught up in the rush of the moment.

Carpe diem, she thought with a laugh. I wanted adventure, after all. When we land ... then I'll ask.

She had always loved the sea, her own home in a coastal town, overlooking the bay. Rushing out across the water in her sailboat had always given her joy. This was infinitely more satisfying. The sound of Caviles fine voice, the melodic lyre, all blended with the sound of wind and wave and wing, and she laughed out loud in pure delight, something she'd not done in a long time.

Her breath caught at the sight of the tower, and she studied it intently as they approached. So unlike the buildings of her land, the delicate spire seemed to defy what she knew of architecture.

Not wanting to spoil the moment with words, she simply enjoyed, letting her hands slip down lower to rest comfortably around Cavile's waist, loosening her grip slightly, though keeping herself close.

The tower seemed to stretch upwards before them as the Dragon bore Cavile and Nathicana along the line of its warm reflection, the pink of the tower merging with the orange of the setting sun, which was marred only by the sable silhouette of the great beast sweeping along it with steady beats of its wings, though as the tower loomed up before it, each beat of the Dragon’s wings seemed to come after a slightly greater stretch of time, and the speed with which the waves rushed past began to grow less and less.

Then, as they approached the rocks upon which the sea crashed endlessly, at the base of the tower, the Dragon flung its wings and tail forward, bringing it to a dead stop, before rocketing directly upward, along the face of the tower, which was constructed in its entirely of some strange pink stone. Completely smooth, without any sign of cement or even a join, the entire softly glowing edifice appeared to have been carved whole from some gigantic mountain.

Eventually, the Dragon gradually came to a halt just below a large windowsill, and positioned itself to allow its passengers to step easily from its back into the tower.

Nathi had been lost in the beauty of the place, and she shrieks at the sudden change in direction, holding on to Cavile tightly again as they rise to the windowsil. She refuses to let go of him entirely, keeping a firm grip on his hand as they enter the tower through this rather unconventional method. She tries to pointedly ignore the fact that her hand is shaking on account of it all.

"That ... quite took my breath away, Cavile," she says, indeed, a touch on the breathless side. Meaning of course, the flight, the scenery, and even his presence and song by her comment.

She loosens her grip now that they're safely inside, and takes the time to actually look around her.

The room into which Nathicana stepped was perfectly round, its diameter similar to that of the outside of the tower. The walls were of the same pinky hue as those outside, although the glow was somewhat softer and more subdued. Lining them were dozens of different instruments, each sitting in a simple black iron rack, and all were finely wrought from precious metals and rare woods. In the centre of the room sat a wooden pedestal with a circular top, covered from top to bottom in elaborate carvings of great Dragons, their wings outspread in flight, and their jaws wide in fury, battling with terrible winged demons of all shapes and sizes, and on the pedestal sat a simple sphere of pink crystal. Beside this pedestal, the only item of furniture in the room was a comfortable-looking chair, lined with velvet. There were three doors leading out of the room, all formed from solid gold. One had engraved upon it carvings of everyday life, of woodcutters and blacksmiths, tailors and farmers, all going about their trades. The second bore an image of a great orchestra, sitting in their ranks around the form of a slumbering Dragon, and upon the third was graven a simple rose in full bloom.

Nathicana walks boldly into the room, taking in the ambience with a smile. She went first to the line of instruments, examining them all with a smile. She had always loved music.

"Do you play?" she asks casually, over her shoulder. "After all, the harp ..."

The doors caught her attention, and she studies them each in turn, her gaze lingering somewhat on the one depicting the rose.

Next she turns to the pedestal with the carvings, admiring them with a practiced eye, taking in the craftsmanship and lines. She gazes at the sphere, unsure what to make of it. Tentatively, she reaches out to give it the barest of touches with her fingertips.

“I do indeed. When I last travelled in the Young-Kingdoms, I sought out masters of every one of these instruments, and sought instruction from them.”

As Nathicana’s fingertips reached towards the ball, the interior of which was filled with shifting swirls of mist and cloud, Cavile’s right hand shot out to grasp her arm, holding her firmly enough to stop the movement, but not tightly enough to cause pain. He spoke softly, but firmly.

“That would be inadvisable.”

She looks at him sharply, though her irritation fades quickly. Merely the usual reaction of a person used to having her way. She flashes him a ravishing smile, turning away from the orb and giving his hand a squeeze in return.

"As you wish. If you don't mind ... what is it?" She looks at him intently, her blue eyes sparkling. "I have to say, I'm impressed. Few take the time to learn one instrument, let alone so many."

Nathicana lets her eyes slip to the side only long enough to glance at the doors, then looks back at him, still smiling.

"You have my undivided attention, my dear. What aspect of your land shall we sample first?"

Cavile grinned cheerfully;

“That only applies when time is limited.”

He looked down at the orb for a second, before meeting her eyes again, having seen the irritation that had flashed through them at his warning. He gestured casually toward it;

“You seemed most interested in my little bauble here a few moments ago. Would you like to see what it does?”

"True ... I had heard rumors that yours was a long-lived race," she says, nodding in confirmation. "And yes, if you're willing, I would like to see what your pretty but dangerous little toy does."

Nathi meets his gaze firmly, her eyes alight with interest. "Anything you're willing to share, I'll glady accept. I have a passion for knowledge, after all. And you, my dear Prince, with your travels and experiences, look to be one who could satisfy that particular interest."

"Please," she says, delicately gesturing towards the orb, and watching in anticipation.

Cavile stepped forward lightly, and motioned for Nathicana to turn to face the orb. When she had done so, he moved behind her, and reached forward to grasp her hands. His body was warm against hers, and his grip was firm, yet gentle, as he guided her palms toward the orb, and held them just millimetres from its smooth surface.

A cold thrill ran down Nathicana’s back, born of both curiosity and eagerness to explore this strange artifact, and of fear on account of Cavile’s earlier warning, and she gazed deep into the orb. At first she merely saw barely-perceived wisps and hints of pink cloud, shifting and swirling through the softly tinted air. Then, as she gazed, enraptured by its strange, hypnotic beauty, the gaseous apparitions changed. Now, instead of floating through the soft glow of the orb, they flowed together within it, becoming some strange hybrid of gas and liquid, lost in a constant metamorphosis of texture, shape and shade, all formed from countless pinky hues, and, as Nathicana watched, the shapes did not all appear to be entirely abstract. Rather, they took on forms which, while she could not place them, seemed somehow familiar, as if they were reflections of some distant memory.

Then Cavile whispered softly into her ear, his words not breaking harshly into her reverie, but slipping gently into it, merging seamlessly into her thought;

“Look deep into yourself, my sable rose, and search for those things which form your fondest memories, those faces and forms and place which occur in your most pleasant dreams. Put away the Dread Lady, she is not present in this place, and allow Nathicana to come forth. What is it that you see when you awake, that remains hovering in your consciousness for the last few seconds of sleep. That image which flees your mind as the cold wind of day brings the Dread Lady home. Search for it, and then open your heart to the orb, and project that image into it.”

As Nathicana followed his quietly spoken instructions, the half-forms within the orb became clearer, revealing a sequence of faces, though only the barest outlines were visible in the swimming pool of light.

Focus

Two of the faces swam slowly forward, more and more of their form becoming visible as they floated upwards, as if from some unimaginably deep pit.

Focus

One of the faces dropped behind, falling backward into the gaseous depths, sinking down into oblivion, but the other continued to rise, until the unmistakeable features of Devon, Emperor of Treznor, took shape. Then Cavile gently moved Nathicana’s right hand in a slow circular motion over the orb, and spoke a single soft syllable, in a strange and unfamiliar tongue, which echoed in her mesmerised mind, before slipping out of her own soft lips. As the word washed over it, the orb shifted again, until she was looking down, as if from a great height, upon what appeared to be a dinner table.

The image that had appeared was formed entirely from shades of pink, yet Nathicana could clearly see that the two figures sitting at the table were Devon Treznor and his guest, Wendlyn. Devon looked stiff and uncomfortable, and he had a wary, almost hunted air about him, in distinct contrast to the aura of unshakeable self-confidence and control which almost radiated from Cavile, and where Cavile, both earlier in the day, as he moved gracefully around the ball, and now, standing close behind Nathicana, always seemed completely at ease, both with himself, and with the world around him, Devon’s discomfort as he sat in his starched Tuxedo was plain.

Nathicana could feel Cavile’s perfectly defined muscle as he held her, his slender physique concealing steely strength, like a coiled spring or a panther preparing to leap. In contrast, Devon’s short, blocky, undefinably ugly figure, his crude muscles and joints cracking slightly with every move, seemed like that of a simple peasant, worn down by years in the fields.

Then, Devon lifted the lid off the platter, revealing the steak beneath, and, though she couldn’t hear their speech, Nathicana somehow knew that it was the flesh of a Dragon, and bile rose in her throat, as she remembered the grace and power of the mighty beast which had carried her to Kalessin, felt again the sensation of its great muscles stretching between her thighs, and saw once more the deep and ancient wells that were its eyes, full of proud nobility and an alien intelligence.

Then Cavile softly lifted her hands away from the orb, and the vision faded, as he released her hands, and stroked her with his strong, slender hands, comforting and soothing her. He kissed her upon the neck, and turned her to face him, kissing her gently, before guiding her toward the door upon which the rose was graven.

Nathicana couldn't help but shiver in delight at the strange sensations running through her, and her all too familiar reactions to it all. A part of her chuckled softly inside, in an affectionate way, at the sight of the uncomfortable Devon. But for some reason though, not many coherent thoughts seemed to be forthcoming.

The closeness of Cavile, the warmth and strength of his body, the confidence that seems a natural part of him ... all these things thrill her, filling her with a desire she doesn't bother to hide. The speed of her pulse, the pace of her soft breathing, the way she stretches slightly and shifts against him as she watched the images in the orb, all convey her mood.

She is surprised at her reaction to the meal, though it makes perfect sense. Nathicana shuddered, feeling sick inside, and somehow sad. Before she has time to try and reason through it, her hands were drawn back, and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensations as Cavile gently soothed away the negative image. She pushed it away entirely as he turned her face towards him, returning his kiss more than willingly.

Without a word, she allowed him to lead her to the door, a shiver of anticipation running up her spine. Finally, cohesive thought pressed its way through her mind.

It's been far, far too long. I feel more like myself than I have had in months, and by the powers that be ... I'm going to enjoy it.

She waited for Cavile to open the door, her blue eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and desire, eagerly looking around to see what mysteries this room holds. She firmly did not dwell on the 'how' of what she'd just experienced. Those thoughts only made her slightly uneasy, and she most definitely didn't want to think about it just now. Now, she had other things on her mind, and did not wish to be distracted.

Cavile bowed slightly in Nathicana’s direction, and gestured toward the door, which swung open noiselessly. Stepping through the doorway, she entered a large, perfectly round room, dominated by a large four-poster bed..and the colour pink.

Everything was pink, from the smooth silk curtains, to the soft bedsheets, to the rich, luxurious carpet. The curved ceiling was covered in an elaborate painting of large amounts of pink humanoid flesh of the female variety, all engaged in faintly bizzare carnal activities.

On the far wall a pink whip was lying in a beautifully crafted gold rack. Gold was, of course, the only other colour to feature heavily in the room, with the framework of the bed apparently made entirely of the precious metal.

Atop a stand in the corner of the room, constructed, naturally, of solid gold, was placed a silver flute, its length adorned with tiny carvings of dragons in flight.

The room was windowless, the walls broken up only by a pair of doors on the far side, each decorated in a similar way to the ceiling, yet it was not hot or airless. Instead, the air was clear, yet not chill, warm, yet not stuffy, and the entire room was permeated with the delicate scent of roses, and although there was no light-source in sight, everything, from the walls to the bed to the air itself, was enveloped in a cosy golden glow.

Cavile took Nathicana’s hand and led her toward the bed. As she sat down upon it, the prince al Pulcherise reached across, to a small pedestal concealed behind one of the drapes, and withdrew a golden bowl, engraved with strange, shifting shapes and lines, swirling and turning in upon each other, like the winds twisting in the heart of a storm. He lifted it to her lips, and, as she breathed in the rosy air, the cool, almost tasteless, liquid flowed down her throat. And as it passed through her body, a soft, tingling warmth spread with it, somehow, both relaxing and invigorating at once.

As Nathicana lay back upon the sheets, luxuriating both in their softness, and in the sensation of the Kalessin elixir flowing through her, Cavile moved across to the stand upon which rested the silver flute. Slowly, as he gracefully slipped back toward the bed, the prince began to play.

The music was quiet and low at first, and Nathicana was forced to strain her augmented ears to hear it, as it slipped gently into her mind, washing over her consciousness like a soft summer breeze. But, as Cavile moved closer, the music grew, until, strangely, it seemed as if not only her ears, but every cell in her body was listening to the sound, which swelled like the vast ocean waves, suffusing her entire being with its subtle harmonies.

Then, as Cavile sat once again upon the bed beside Nathicana, his eyes gazing down into hers, the wordless song of the flute soared up, like a great silver dragon, and, throughout her body, from the innermost depths of her bones, to the smooth surface of her skin, pure pleasure soared up with it, as she burned with the searing passion of a dragon, flying free among the roaring winds. And as Cavile slowly lifted the flute away from his lips, and placed it to one side, the music continued to surge through Nathicana’s body, amplifying every sensation to levels never meant to be experienced by mortal men......



Nathicana awoke. A cool draught caressed her skin, flowing in through the open door of the chamber. Every nerve still tingled with vividly remembered pleasure, yet strangely, although she knew that she would never feel such ecstasy again, instead of craving for more, Nathicana felt satisfied and at peace. Her dress was nowhere to be seen.

Stretching langorously, Nathicana let out a slow, quiet sigh of sheer contentment, closing her eyes for a moment then absentmindedly running her hands over the luxurious sheets as she savored the memories. She turned her head slowly towards the open door, a little smile turning up the corners of her lips. Seeing no clothing she padded quietly to the door, shivering slightly as she ran a hand through her tousled raven tresses.

She looked around expectantly, and her breath caught as her eyes fell on Cavile, standing naked at the window, the first light of morning washing over the clean lines of his body, emphasising the toned musculature she had come to truly appreciate.

Without a word, she walked quietly to his side, slipping her arm famliarly around his waist, her other hand slowly stroking fingertips across the tightly defined muscles of his stomach. Leaning her head lightly against him she gazed out the window, breathlessly awaiting the sunrise as she so often did from her bedroom balcony in Devras.

Cavile gently wrapped a perfectly-toned arm around Nathicana's waist, and gazed out to sea, as the first feeble rays of the sun crept over the horizon, kissing the frothy tips of the waves.

The sky was clear, save for the occasional soft, puffy cloud, tinted pink in the half-light of dawn, and the wind was equally gentle, a mere whispering zephyr, which brushed across the calm and peaceful ocean, sending up tiny ripples, which glittered brightly as they reflected the receding starlight.

And as the great orb slowly, yet inexorably climbed upward, and the light began to spread over the landscape, causing the horizon to blaze alive with an orange glow, tempered with a soft, rosy light, the scent of wild flowers wafted slowly up to the tower.

"Beautiful, is it not?"

Cavile's voice was barely a murmur;

"Yet it is but a pale reflection of what once was. Now, the waters and the air, they are cold and dead, their beauty is mindless and unconscious. But it was not always so."

Watching the warmth of morning creep slowly across the land, Nathicana breathed deeply, savoring the delicate scent that rose on the gentle wind. She had no words to answer for a moment, simply nodding in return as she savored the quiet beauty.

Still, his latter words gave her pause, and she drew her eyes away from the scene to look up at him questioningly.

"I ... don't understand," she said simply, her voice soft and hesitant, as if not wanting to mar the moment with uneccessary words.

Cavile looked down into her questioning eyes, and, in that moment, Nathicana saw, in his bright blue gaze, something that had eluded her before. She saw age. True, his hairless, slender body, and his perfectly defined muscles, combined with features that were neither that of boy nor man, reminiscent less of a mortal than of a god, declaimed his youthfulness to the world, and his catlike grace and boundless enthusiasm for even the most petty and minor of pleasures reinforced this, yet beneath those foppish curls lurked eyes that pierced right to the soul, eyes that, while they had lost none of their lustre, still showed a depth of knowledge and experience beyond the ken of mortals. He parted his perfect lips, as if to speak, yet no sound came forth. Instead, his voice sounded inside the depths of Nathicana's mind, gentle and uninvasive;

There was a time, back before the first dawn ever spread across this sea, when Manwe himself was but a glimmer in the mind of Eru, and when even the Empire was yet to be born. In that time, all of creation was infused with spirit. The air sang, and the waters danced, while the earth rumbled with laughter at the antics of the leaping flames. There was no death, no order, and all matter obeyed no law, but did only as it wished, and all was bright and beautiful and full of joy.

He gestured slowly toward the sea toward which his gaze had returned, his voice full of wistfull sorrow.

"All that we call beautiful, all that causes our eyes to rejoice and our hearts to sing, it is merely a lifeless corpse."

He speaks as though ... couldn't possibly be, but ... how?

Even as realization dawned in her eyes, her confusion increased. To one whos measure of time is days, and months, the concept of eons both intrigued and bewildered. The words he spun in her mind conjured images beyond her understanding, leaving her feeling breathless, and as always, wanting more.

"Please, say on," she whispers, reaching up to lightly stroke her fingertips along his smooth cheek, her brow furrowing at the sorrow in his voice. Her curiousity had always been nigh unto insatiable, and the feelings, novelties and mysteries this strange but delicious man offered were simply too tantalizing to let pass.

Cavile turned to her, and spoke quietly;

“I, as with many of my noble kin, was not born in this world. The orb which gave me life no longer exists, its very atoms now shredded and scattered into the void. The star around which it once flew upon its yearly course was not one of those within the galaxy that you see when you look out of your window at night, nor, even if you could see to the very edges of this universe, in those days when it burnt like a steady torch, giving warmth and life to myself and my people, would you have seen even the faintest glimmer of a ray, for the land where I first took breath was not within this plane. Yet, despite its distance from this place, and although the sky was not blue, but a vibrant pink, and the folds of the earth were a deep and luxurious purple, carpeted with scarlet flora, it was not so different from this world which now shelters us. The waters held that same musical tinkle as they flowed over hard rock, the mountains still glinted in the sun as their snow-clad peaks stretched up toward the sky, and fabric of that world was just as lifeless and dead, and I, like you, lived out the first few decades of my life in the belief that it could be nothing else.”

The Prince stood, and reached over to the wall where his harp hung, still continuing to speak in the same soft, yet clear voice.

“It was on my one-hundredth birthday that I learnt the truth. A few hours before dawn, as I lay in my bed, my father came to me, and requested that I dress and follow him. He led me out from the grounds of our palace, and through the city. It was quiet that morning, the streets, which in the day were a bustling hive of activity, were silent as we walked along them to the main gates, whence my father strode up into the hills, and I followed him. We walked for some time, not speaking to each other, but merely luxuriating in the silence, something in short supply inside the city, and dawn was rapidly approaching, when, eventually, we stopped upon the peak of a mountain, from where we could look down, and gaze over both the land and the sea.”

She could hear Cavile’s voice in her mind now, as his lips became still;

And then, my father produced his silver flute from within the dark recesses of his robes, and revealed what once was.

He gazed once more into her eyes, questioning, searching;

Would you like me to show you what I saw on that day?

All the images, the emotions that his words bring, she strives to understand, to fully grasp ... and seems to forever fall short. Still, the desire to try, to see more, remains and as his voice continues, echoing softly in the depths of her mind, she nods, looking up at him with an almost childlike wonder. Thoughts of her own father sprang vividly from her dark memories, her eyes glistening for a moment as she mastered her own emotions.

"Show me," she says simply. "Please, I want to know."

Tag, for the magic

Cavile stepped toward the window, and lowered his head, as if in thought. Silently, he slipped sideways, so that he was leaning his back upon the frame of the opening, and gestured for Nathicana to step forward to the windowsill.

Then, he lifted his lyre, and began to play;

Cavile retreated into the depths of his mind, blocking out the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs and the howling of the wind. Slowly, first smell, and then touch and taste faded, until all that remained was the music. The music, and memory. His bright blue eyes closed for a moment, and then opened. But now, he saw not only the sea and the sky of that one plane upon which he stood, but also the shimmering wisps and echoes of the many worlds that existed beside his own, all merging seamlessly together, yet remaining distinct and apart. He saw the planes material, and he saw the planes of spirit, and the infinity beauty of chaos in all its countless variations. Then, he stretched out his consciousness, leaving only the barest fragment of intelligence in his body, as his fingers flowed over the strings of the lyre. He reached out, with an ethereal arm, and, gathering his strength, rend asunder the veil between the world of spirit, and the material lands, and as the ancient souls of the elements poured forth, the Prince flew swiftly back into his body, and the music swept out from him.

Nathicana saw Cavile begin to play out of the corner of her eye, and, as the first pure notes sparkled in the morning air, it was beautiful, but it was still but sound, nothing more. But then, the music changed, and with it, the world. Now, she heard it not only with her ears, but with her entire being, and, as far as her eyes could see, all of creation, both earth and sea, plants and animals, absorbed it, and merged with it. The music poured forth from the lyre, and the world sang in perfect harmony.

And then, slowly, life returned. Waves rippled through the earth, and flames danced upon the sea, which, heedless of the tides and the other constraining forces of nature: those unnatural laws that order had forced upon it, swirled and laughed and leapt high into the clear air, which lifted it up to form ever-shifting mists and clouds, wrapping around the guttering flames that raced merrily along the frothy crests, as the spirits of the elements returned to their ancient homes, and, clothed themselves in matter, which they manipulated joyfully, in the endless freedom of chaos, and Cavile smiled at the ever-changing beauty of their creations.

But at last the Prince removed his fingers from strings of the lyre, and the sound of the music died. But the essence of the music lingered for but a short while, before the forces of order reasserted their terrible grip, and the land died once more, as the land became still, and the flames were swallowed up by the water, which resumed its monotonous pattern of waves and tides. The air relaxed its gentle grip upon the mists, and the smile faded from Cavile’s lips.

There were many things she had seen on this strange journey that she could not quite understand. The workings of them, the how of it all ... she couldn't quite put a reference to it. She had never been one to simply accept what she was given or shown. This was no exception.

"How," she asked softly, finally turning to look at Cavile, her blue eyes alight with pleasure and a hunger for knowledge. "The great beast we flew here on ... this, I can accept. There are more things between heaven and hell than a mere human can hope to name, after all. The strange method of passage here, one could perhaps explain away as a drug-induced hallucination of sorts. Your gazing orb - a veiled technology perhaps, an elaborate form of surveilance that you wish to keep to yourself, hence your reluctance to have me examine it further." She paused, again taking in the impressive lines of his body with an appreciative smile.

"There was something in that drink you gave me, my dear boy, though I can only guess at how it bypassed the measures I've employed to avoid such things. I also don't regret a moment of it. Nor the rest of that lovely night," she said, reaching up to lightly stroke her fingertips along his cheek, down the side of his neck, and along his shoulder.

"This, however ... this I have no ready explanation for. How did you do it? Is the view from here actually some elaborate hologram? Do you have access to some strange biofeedback devices that can mirror the view through the viewer? Is it keyed to your music? And gods, man, the images ... your imagination is divine. Surely such things never possibly existed, however exquisitely beautiful." She asked her questions with an almost breathless anticipation, then paused, tilting her head to the side.

"And Cavile," she said more softly, "Why does it trouble you so?"

Olorndilo sarat
i.e. Olorndil’s Tag…(literally Mark of Olorndil)

Cavile’s perfect features, for the first time since Nathicana had met him, bore an expression that could only be described as bewilderment.

“Could you kindly tell me exactly what you mean by a ‘hologram’ and a ‘biofeedback device’. For that matter, what is a ‘viewer’?”

"I ah ... scuse?" she asks, her face a mask of confusion. "You mean you ... that is to say, I ..."

She trails off, both brows arching up, for a moment, at a loss for words.

"Mi dispiace, Cavile," she says, face tinged red. "I'm afraid I have ... misunderstood." Her expression is still one of confusion as she tries to wrap her mind around the possible explanations.

Perhaps different names for them, or ... maybe, another sort of technology altogether that I'm not aware of, or ... good god, how did he do all of those things?

She looks up at him, her brow creased, eyes questioning. "I don't understand, boy. How ... how did you make all of those things happen, if not by technology and misdirection?"

Cavile's air of faint perplexity remained for a moment, as Nathicana's words sank in. Then, he straightened abruptly, as if struck. He gazed out the window briefly, and whispered quietly to himself;

"Technology...? Misdirection?"

When he turned back to her, his features were subtly changed. His face was harder, colder, and his bright blue eyes seemed to glow with barely-restrained power, shining like the arctic ice in the height of summer, as his skin seemed to grow almost translucent, as if a great light was shining through it, and his hair shone like a river of molten fire. He seemed taller, somehow, and an aura of menace and contained anger hung about his bearing, as if he was about to lash out, to kill, to destroy.

He opened his mouth as if about to speak, and then stopped, frozen in though. The seconds passed slowly, each instant seeming to be an age, and then at last, his mouth closed, and his head bowed, as the fierce glow faded, and he returned to his usual form, though subdued, and with an air of infinite sadness.

"You thought that all that I have shown you was merely a trick? An illusion? Why? Is your life so full of plots and trickeries that trust is beyond you? Or is your mind merely too small and bound by what you have learnt before to accept the truth of the nature of our world?"

He shook his head faintly, and whispered to himself;

"I had hoped.... But no, they were right. There is no hope for these...Young Kingdomers."

She tensed, shrinking back against the windowframe at his seeming transformation, suddenly all too aware of how vulnerable she was. Augmented muscles flexed as she prepared for whatever was to come … then, as he relaxed, slowly eased back herself, while remaining alert and ready.

His words stung - that much was clear by the way her blue eyes flashed and her chin tilted up at that stubborn, imperious angle. Still, she hesitated before answering.

“I am a product of my experiences, boy. And if those experiences are lacking, then enlighten me. Where I come from such things as you’ve shown me do not exist outside what technology can master, and nothing on the level you’ve shown me. A good many of my allies far outstrip the abilities of my people that way, though we are learning, so it seemed the most logical leap. Before witnessing some of those marvels for myself, I would have thought such did not exist as well. Nor the many different races I’ve encountered since we’ve opened our borders and pushed beyond the realm of Earth in our quest for knowledge. As for trust … what you say may well be, but I showed enough of it to fly off with a complete stranger in the middle of the night for no better reason than curiosity – something I never do.”

Nathi paused again, giving him a steady look. “You’ve shown me a good many incredible things, boy. If my eyes lack the ability to fully comprehend the ‘how’ of it, then explain. Teach me. Give me a chance to validate these hopes you speak of by talking plainly, and see just how much the human mind is capable of grasping. I’m no child, Cavile, whatever you think. I’ve seen things I’d never believed I could, and this trip has been no exception. So now, my sweet Prince – will you put aside your own limiting views on we younger races, or will you now send me back unanswered, an opportunity lost?”

She stood, head held high and proud regardless of her diminutive stature, completely unashamed and unrepentant, awaiting his answer.

Please, don’t send me back so soon, il mio dolce Principe … reality or beautiful dream, I’m reluctant to wake or return from it. Not when there is so much yet to learn.

Cavile raised his head, his face blank and empty of expression, and gazed deep into her eyes for a few long, silent, moments. His eyes seemed tired, almost dull, compared to the blazing infernos of but a few moments past, speaking of an age-old weariness which belied his youthful appearance. A cold chill ran down Nathicana’s spine, and, at the same time, she felt a strange tingling at the back of her mind. Cavile’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and then, as the faintest sparkle lit up therein, like a solitary candle glimmering in the darkness of a cold winter’s night, the barest hint of a smile flickered across his boyish face.

Maybe……

“You ask me to teach and explain. I cannot. There is no-one who can. Not fully. Even if we speak together until the gentle sun around which this world of ours travels gutters and dies in the unforgiving cold of space. Even should we speak until the very last vestiges of life and chaos in the universe are crushed under the cruel bootheel of order, even then, you would only understand a pale reflection of the nature of things. You could never know it truly, let alone in its entirety. I have already shown you a sight which has been seen by few among mortals; a vision of how this world was once, and one day may be again, full of infinite chaos and variety, and life; but still you do not see. I cannot give you the simple explanation for which you ask, I can but show you more, and hope that your mind has the potential to understand.”

He extended his hand toward her, and raised an eyebrow, his eyes taunting her, daring her to take it.

And in the depths of Nathicana’s mind, a single verse in an ancient tongue, one well known to her and to the learned among mankind, whispered sonorously, with the faintest tinge of ironic amusement colouring each resonant syllable.

Di, quibus imperium est animarum, umbraeque silentes
et Chaos et Phlegethon, loca nocte tacentia late,
sit mihi fas audita loqui; sit numine vestro
pandere res alta terra et caligine mersas.

OOC:

Home computer blew up, and Uni firewall blocks IRC! (Oh - and Uni workload is obscene ;) ) But I'm back!!!

Even if the ol' fiction-writing skills are a teeny bit rusty!

Nathicana watched him quietly, listening to his words, weighing his responses and expressions, searching for any hidden meanings. The verse was another surprise, and her eyes narrowed slightly as she turned the words over in her mind. A small part of her couldn't help but think 'blasphemy', that bit that still respected the faith her parents had hoped to raise her in, her roots, though it was quickly washed over with the burning desire both for knowledge ... and for the challenge he seemingly offered.

"Then, oh prince, show me, and I will try to see with open eyes, as free from the fetters of indoctrination and longstanding belief as my simple mortal will can achieve," she replied, a slight challenge in her tone as she gently yet firmly slipped her hand in his, grasping it with clear intent.





KAL! OMG OMG OMG! Was hoping you'd be back, though I admit, I had written this off as lost all the same. Glad you're well, even if busy and all! No worries - will take it as it comes. Apologies for the brevity, but was unsure where to take it from there without having more an idea where you're heading. Should be fun - as it was always intended to be. No rush!

"Yes. Open eyes, and an open mind, that is all I require of you, my lady. You will see many things that seem strange, terrible, or even impossible, but I shall promise you three things, before we venture down the rabbit hole, as some of your people might put it. Your mind shall not be influenced, nor your senses deceived, save possibly by your own imagination. There will be no hidden machinery, no tricks of light and mirrors, and, above all, wherever we travel, whatever we might face, know that I shall always be beside you, and while your hand lies in mine, you will always be safe. The only thing you need fear lies within you."

He reached out gently, extending a single slender, graceful finger, and lightly touched the centre of her forehead.

"Remember. Open eyes, and an open mind."

Then, without warning, he sprang up, his eyes bright, hauling Nathicana up with him, a wide grin appearing upon his formerly sombre face.

"Onward then! Let us depart at once! We shall fly over the rainbow and down the rabbit hole to the centre of the universe, and then out the other side! We shall travel through time and space and the very substance of reality! We shall dance and sing, and have many glorious adventures.... and then, at last, maybe, you might understand."

Pausing, he stood stock still, poised as if about to leap upward toward the ceiling, and looked Nathicana up and down, his eyes narrowing slightly as they took in her still-naked curves.

"But first, we need to get you some suitable clothing!"

Cavile, his steps light as those of a dancer, led her away from the window, back into the room in which they had spent the night. Approaching one of the two doors set into the far wall, he gestured lightly, caused it to glide open silently, and stepped across the threshold, drawing her through after him.

They emerged into a truly vast circular room, seemingly much too large to possibly fit inside the tower, given that its diameter was larger than that of the whole building which she had seen from the outside. It was circular, with a floor of perfect, gleaming white marble, set with complex, sweeping patterns in pure, shining gold. The sides however, were lined all the way round by racks of clothing. The only thing that seemed to link all the apparel on display was the fact that it had clearly all been designed to clothe the female body, for the range of different garments was staggering, from casual cotton tops and skirts to skimpy black evening-wear and formal gem-studded ballgowns, and other items which seemed to hail from bygone eras, before fashions changed and rendered them obsolete. The whole room was bathed in a sea of bright white light, which poured down through the countless panes of the vast glass dome which covered the room. Above, not one, but two suns could be discerned in the clear blue sky, marred only by a few slight wisps of cloud, yet the air was cool, and the light, while bright, was strangely gentle to the eyes.

In the centre of the room was a tiny wooden pedestal, upon which sat a small bronze lamp, its surface weathered and corroded. It was plain and unadorned, functional rather than decorative, seeming somewhat incongruous in Cavile's world of gold and silver, elaborate carvings and glittering gems. And it was toward this lamp that Cavile led Nathicana.

No, it wasn't rational. None of what she'd been doing for the past day was. Not the running off, nor accepting strange draughts, dragon-riding, magic or whatever it was that Cavile's odd powers could be called.

Still ... she wanted to know.

Curiousity killed the cat, they say, yet she didn't feel she was in any immediate danger here. The glimpses he'd already shown her of things past imagination had lit a burning desire for more within her. That at least, was in keeping with her character.

He flit from mood to mood like a child, though there was no childishness to the man. He intrigued her, and vexed her all at once, as he flickered from calm to anger to regret to the verge of silliness, all in the space of minutes. Nathi wasn't entirely certain of his references to 'rabbit-holes' and 'travelling through time and space', but to know, she would have to go on at least a little faith.

She nodded in agreement, allowing herself to be led to the odd room with more space than reality ought allow. Her eyes followed the patterns curiously, between studying the breathtaking amount of clothing on display. Arching one brow, she looked up at Cavile questioningly, wondering first, how many women he planned on keeping clothed, and second, where all of his clothing was, which lead to a third question. Did he plan on dressing as well?

The view of the sky was both beautiful and disturbing, in her experience there being need for only one sun, regardless of the tales she'd heard from far distant locations. The cool air felt good against her bare skin, as she stood examining the lamp closely, her other brow soon arching up as well.

"I had no idea you had such a vast harem that so many clothes were needed," she said teasingly, giving him a sly smile. "I hardly know what to choose, given I'm not at all certain of where we're going and what it will involve - difficult to dress for the occasion, no?"

Her eyes flickered back to the lamp, clearly questioning, but waiting patiently for him to explain.

"Where we're going? Anywhere, and anywhen, and some that may or may not exist! What it will involve? Probably something, but on the other hand, maybe not. Does it matter? When you go down the rabbit hole, expectations will always mislead, and words can only deceive, but style nonetheless remains. Kallos aeesseetos esti aei, kai ei kalee kai kalos eimi."

As he spoke, an impish grin upon his refined features, Cavile lightly stepped across to the pedestal, and spun gracefully around it, flicking its tarnished surface with his fingertips. He backed away, reaching out with his hands, feet arched up like a dancer.

As he did so, pink smoke began to pour out from it, coalescing into the shape of a powerfully built man, clad in an elegantly tailored suit. He looked around suspiciously at Cavile, whose eyes twinkled cheerfully as he nodded slightly toward Nathicana. The Djinn glanced upwards, as if in prayer, and then spun around to bow low before her.

"Greetings, lovely lady. Your eyes shine like the black diamonds which glow at the heart of the pool of everlasting liminality under the three pealescent moons of Yvoot, and your hair looks to be as soft as the fur of the supple Sluejn of Javanko. And as for me, my name, for what it's worth, is Lavareilarzayin Yyyillarklish Shallallabzin III; master tailor."

He looked her up and down, as if noting her measurements.

"I assume that you are here for a dress?"