silverking | ✖ IC CONTACT #3

[A part of Isley wonders if Anders' recent post to the Network has triggered this response from Yaha, while the other part is taking a moment to formulate a response that is, for once, not so insensitive.]

I'm sorry. That's truly unfortunate news.

[He had no delusions that Orsino would remain dead, but he'd never gone so far as to tell that to the elf, and he's not about to. The emotional fallout would be...tiresome.]

The Gods here are foolish. They do not know what greatness is.

That comes as no surprise. Few gods recognize the greatness of mortal men.

I shall start planting his tree...

With regards to that, it may be best to plant the tree within a greenhouse for the winter, and to move it come spring so that the frost doesn't harm it.

Have you picked out a location yet?

By his grave, of course.

Ah...of course.

[A pause.]

I wonder, will you be traveling to Wynn this evening to visit the site of his burial?

I think I should.

I will visit it every day... I couldn't do that with General Oror or my people, but I can do that for Orsino.

Allow me to come with you.

[Phrased like a question, it's really more of a gently spoken order.]

Of course, you may come.

I would not be able to leave the gravesite if I went alone.

We can't have that.

[...]

In any case, I'll meet you there.

I thank you, Isley.

You are a very good friend.

I do what I can.

[He disconnects.]

[It's sometime later, after crossing the sea aboard the Victoria, that Isley waits inside the headquarters of the Order in Wynn. He has with him a Native who is helping to carry some supplies: extra blankets, pillows, a basket of foodstuffs and drink, and a few other items. Once the supplies are put away neatly, he passes off some ivories to the Native person and dismisses them. Yaha will be arriving soon...and he needs to prepare all of his patience for dealing with the elf.]

[ It is a little way that the ground gives way to allow the elf to the surface. He sighs loudly as he walks forward to where his father is to lie. His head gives a slight tilt to Isley before his legs give out and he rests on the ground where Orsino will be buried deep underground. No, not here. Anders convinced him to let him be in the cemetery, but he'll still give him a monument here with the tree, since this is where his soul will rest. ]

[When the elf arrives, Isley joins him outside and returns the nod of Yaha's head with one of his own.]

[That is when Yaha's legs give out and Isley watches as the other man's knees strike the softer ground. A minute passes before he pushes away from the headquarters wall and starts toward his extraordinarily dramatic guest.]

Welcome, Yaha. [...] You're going to get dirty if you continue to fall all over the place in that fashion.

Why can't he wake up? I could keep his corpse about the manor and talk to him each day. Eventually, it will be like he is alive.

[Not my manor, thinks Isley, but what he says is:]

The Mist would claim him, if it hasn't already. I'm sorry, Yaha, but...this is the way things work here in Anatole.

[He steps closer and kneels, looking at the elf.]

It's a fortunate thing for the Mist, however. It means his body will not decay, that the memories you will have of him will always remain those where he is handsome.

Besides, I think his presence would be a novelty around...our home. You would only take comfort in it for a little while, and then the absence of a response would cause you great anguish and distress. I'd prefer not to see you troubled in such a way.

[Meaning, he doesn't want to listen to the whining and crying and carrying on.]

[ Turning over on his side, he looks up at Isley. ]

He is very handsome, isn't he? You saw him... so you can attest to his looks. I told Anders that while I do not lust after him, I do not mind if others... in fact, I would like them to... it means that he was loved and wanted.

[ He rubs the side of his face against the ground. ]

I suppose. Yes, you are right. I would miss his voice and eventually, his voice may sound like my own in my head.

Yes, a remarkably handsome man.

[Actually, Isley can scarcely recall Orsino's face having only seen it a handful of times, but he remembers that the man wasn't what one might consider an eyesore. He was...not unattractive.]

I'm certain he was loved.

[...Well, no, he's not, but it hardly matters. He sounds sure, and that's what counts.]

The stone turned out rather nicely, didn't it? [Still kneeling next to the elf, Isley turns his gaze toward the headstone shaped like a phoenix.]

It is a shame there are those that will not know --

[ His eyes widen before he stands up. Brushing off the dirt from his clothes, he holds his hand out in front of him. Lips moving to a silent incantation, the air shifts as he makes an illusion in the shape of the mage in question. His smile is a broken one as he goes to hug the form, before he sighs in content. ]

Of course, Father is loved. [ "Orsino" remains still, unmoving, little more than a stuffed animal conjured up. ]

I think it does. [ Yaha peers over the illusion's shoulder to the headstone. ] I think that he will like it very much. His spirit lives on and on.

[The conjuration reminds Isley too much of the apparitions that the Mist produces far out into the Ruins. Though it might be a comfort to the elf, as Isley stands, his expression is disapproving.]

Yaha.

[A step is taken toward the elf, and a hand placed upon his shoulder.]

[You shouldn't waste your magic this way. There are better uses for it.]

This isn't healthy.

[ He looks over his shoulder, bottom lip jutting out at the sight of the disapproving look. ]

I know. [ Yaha looks at "Orsino." He reaches his hand up to pry he illusion's eye open. ] I can never breathe life into their sight. It always looks dead. [ Flicking his index finger against the eyeball a few times, he eventually lowers his hand. ]

[Isley catches Yaha's wrist next.]

Enough of that. It's unsightly.

[Says a people-eater. Pun unintended.]

That may not be Orsino, and it may not have the glimmer of the man's soul behind his eyes, but it is still in his image.

[Releasing Yaha's wrist, Isley folds his arms over his chest and sighs. He regrets now not having lectured Anders about the clumsiness of his announcement. It had occurred to him then, but he'd bitten his tongue and had hoped for the best.]

[I ought to have expected this outcome, though. Both men are completely irrational...]

We should go indoors. Besides, I have something for you. Something warmer than conjured illusions.

[ Ah.

He looks to Isley then, looking as though he has been struck. No, if he had been struck, he would actually enjoy that. This is more of a broken look upon hearing those words. Shame might actually make their way into his gaze, but he looks away instead.

Once his hand is free, he gestures a little to break the spell which he cast -- the "Orsino" before him disappears in a flash of bright light. ]

You are also right. His embrace is very cold.

[ Perking up just a little, he walks over to lightly reach out to grab and tug lightly on Isley's sleeve. ] A gift... for me? To ease my heart over what has happened with my father? Truly?

[Shame isn't something Isley has seen Yaha express before, not that he can ever remember. Of course, whether or not it's an honest expression, well...time will tell.]

[He permits Yaha to tug his sleeve, in any case, making no attempt to pull his arm away or put distance between himself and the elf.]

It's just a little something, but yes, I had hoped it might ease your troubled state of mind.

This time of year in Anatole, the denizens often find themselves bestowed with unique baskets full of delights suited to their personal tastes. Given my inclinations, I am not actually able to share mine with other people, and more often than not, it goes to waste. Except that this year is different. You're here.

[Wining and dining with Rigaldo is not something he does, and seeing as how Priscilla does not much care for his diet, despite her tolerance of it due to it being an unarguable necessity, there is only Yaha.]

[He steps in the direction of the doors leading into the Mess Hall from the side yard.]

This way. I'll show you what I mean.

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