Quendalon/Session12AekinoInterlude
On the road north and east, Aekino pretty much takes every opportunity to bathe for about three days. He also takes every opportunity to ogle his brothers and walk off a few yards in the evening when they rest. What his brothers and sister are unaware of, is that when he lays down to sleep he silently allows tears to streak down his flawless face.
On the third night however, he begins to quietly weep but as the first fat teardrops fall his features work their way from heartbroken to determined. He rises, wiping the moisture from his skin and takes a scroll from his pack. Reaching back in, he retrieves a brush and inkwell. He breathes deeply of the clear night air, centers his Essence and begins to write.
Stricken\\ square in the conceit\\ through prosaic wood\\ my past flees\\ Dancing Water
Hopeful\\ memories engage\\ time collides in our gaze\\ we drink deeply\\ Dancing Water
Climbing\\ through Ages\\ wicked ways and means\\ become sacred\\ Dancing Water
Beckoned\\ I am undone\\ regret takes hold\\ kissing hello or farewell\\ Dancing Water
Ashamed\\ I seek comfort\\ and ancient truths\\ eternal, unchanging\\ Dancing Water
Beringed\\ hands between us\\ one possessed and hated\\ the other missing\\ Dancing Water
Return\\ find forgiveness\\ my lovers enemies\\ none approaching\\ Dancing Water
The final character flowed onto the parchment. Aekino withdrew his arm and released the sleeve of his writing hand he'd been holding out of the way. Looking at the poem, he critiqued it and was less than pleased but found that he felt less like weeping. Dancing Water would remain distant as long as he cared to. Aekino had no control over that. What he could control was his own reactions to the feelings the Lunar evoked within his fickle heart.
Ledaal Martin he wanted for his fiery, muscular God-Blooded beauty.
Cathak Nerin he wanted for his tempestuous and conflicted rage.
Mnemon Dara he wanted for his loyalty and love through a dozen years.
But with one meeting that was all destroyed. A lifetime of centuries asserted itself and the nearly three decade old Aekino had no hope in its face. All of his hopes of finding allies, some sort of powerbase so that he could turn his attentions back onto the Blessed Isle were suddenly replaced by one simple compulsion.
Find the moonstone ring with the amber diamond set into it.
Which he would do, once his brothers were restored to some extent to their former glory, their ancient power. Nothing and noone would stay him from his task. The funny thing was that Aekino realized as he thought it how insane it sounded. How obsessed he had undoubtedly become. He only hoped his Circle might understand and allow him this.
Sprinkling fine sand upon the characters so that they might set into the thirsty paper, Aekino withdrew the scroll that contained the secret of Emerald Countermagic and studied it in the light of the fire, the stars and the small peace he had found. Tomorrow would be another day closer to his reunion with his soul mate. Dragons...no, Heaven help him.
He looked around the small campsite and beheld faithful, serene Li of Orchid as she sat watch. She would always forgive because she never took offense, simply seeking wisdom and understanding. He envied her focus. He also wondered at what was beneath that surface that dogged her sleeping mind. A warrior of such skill and dedication must feel something about the art of dealing death. Perhaps she repressed something that pained her. He wished he could help, but doubted it. It was her struggle.
His gaze moved to a large form that slept. His brother Thorwald was healing nicely even as they rode toward the tomb that contained the remnants of the flesh his soul had once worn. The flesh he'd worn as he looked down upon Aekino's prior manifestation and proclaimed judgment. Aekino wondered just how much his Northron brother judged him now. He did not say much. He was, though, an apt judge and had shown a great depth of character in his reactions to spirits. Aekino hoped he would come to accept that role someday. Many peoples lives would be better if he did.
He let out a soft sigh as he looked over at Zera Thisse. He and Aekino were perhaps too much alike. It would gall the proud peasant to admit it, but it was true. The crux was pride. Aekino was proud of his heritage. He was accustomed to the lower classes obeying him. Zera was proud of the work his class performed. He hated the upper classes that relied upon his own and yet neglected their duties to protect and rule fairly. Those were exactly the kind that Aekino hated as well, but emulated with perfection in order to exploit them. Perhaps one day a lasting peace between them would be found. Aekino simply hoped they would bicker simply to keep in form. One never knew when a harsh and clever witticism as all that stood between life and death.
He returned the now-dry scroll and the old spell scroll to his case and pack and curled up, a small contented smile on his face. He slept.
