Logs:Righting wrongs
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| RL Date: 1 July, 2008 |
| Who: Lujayn, X'lar |
| Type: Log |
| What: The latest 'Fall has Rielsath in a fierce tangle. Malsaeth sorts out a few knots. |
| When: Day 11, Month 12, Turn 16 (Interval 10) |
| Darkness reigns supreme as Malsaeth's voice reaches out to the Reaches gold. There is no lightning, no rain or thunder booming off in the distance, just the pitch black darkness. « Rielsath... We heard of the 'Fall. Your Threadfall. » A pause. His growl that much more apparent as he speaks with light concern despite the darkness that seems to follow his voice. « Are you and yours well? » (Malsaeth to Rielsath) There is a light somewhere in the darkness, the dancing flame of a candle held close against any chance breeze. A light sigh makes it flicker, though it does not extinguish the soft golden glow. She keeps it close, along with more tumultuous memories of Threadfall. « We're here. We're fine, » Silver-toned blue creeps up from the flame's base, cool and hot simultaneously. « It surprised everyone, even us. » (Rielsath to Malsaeth) There's some sense of protection of that dancing flame of the candle in the darkness. Even if he himself created the pitch black himself, there is a brief feel that he might protect that flame at all costs. There is no breeze to extinguish it, no rain to douse it. « We sympathize. Ista was hit in much the same way. Unexpected. Surprising. Devastating. » His growl becomes a hoarse whisper as he speaks in the single candle-lit darkness. (Malsaeth to Rielsath) It's different for her to express uncertainty or even a trace of fright, so different that Rielsath pushes those fetters away and lets Malsaeth share what light there is. « It wasn't supposed to be like that, » The gold's youthful voice almost makes this statement a pout, though her frustrations are hardly childlike. Her tone rattles, frost pluming from her words and disappearing into the blackness. « It won. » (Rielsath to Malsaeth) As much as the bronze may delight in the fright in his stories, there is a part of Malsaeth that protects the gold from that fear and uncertainty. That horrifying fact of nature that is Thread. « When things are so unpredictable, it shatters the order of things. » he replies, his whisper that much lower, deeper. « The fact that you are here and talking to me tells me it has not won at all, Rielsath. » He even goes so far as adding fuel for that single candle, making the flame that much taller in the darkness of space, more certainty in response to her frustration. (Malsaeth to Rielsath) Brooding, dark colors weave against the void, bruising violet and blue drifting in before fading away in silence. « I'm here, » The growing flame draws her attention, lulling her back into a solemn trance. « They're not. » At least four different faces, or vague memories of what used to be, drift up from the candle like shapes out of smoke. « Or others, Lu and I .. helped, » What is that word, that unpleasant thing that requires finding pain within another dragon and hiding it from them, acting as a living shield? « They are alive and still defeated. » (Rielsath to Malsaeth) There's a moment when Malsaeth watches those colours weave against the void, but it's almost absent. The bronze seems uncharacteristically focused on the conversation and the dragon speaking to him. « It is a result of living a dangerous existence, Rielsath. » he answers her, his voice still a mere hoarse whisper. For every image she shows him, he shows others in turn. But rather than sadness enveloping them, hope and potential is woven within them. Those who still live, to counter those who have died. Life to her death. It is a strange juxtaposition considering his own darker personality. « Mine has always believed we help how and when we can so that others live. The responsibility is ours to help protect, to foster that which still lives. « They are /alive/. This is what matters. Everyone has the capability of moving on from it. Even defeated, there is strength there. » The candle dims to a mere spark to defend his theory. Even though it is a spark, the potential is there. And thusly, he stokes it, nurtures that spark so it once again rises into a fully formed strong flame from that candle. (Malsaeth to Rielsath) Argumentative when challenged no matter the situation, and now finding herself arguing for a side she'd rather not be on, Rielsath lets the temperature rise with her frustration. « Things aren't always how they should be, » A moth to the flame, unable to douse it or simply walk away. That would be giving up. « If one person is hurt, we all are. There should be a way to fix it forever, to make sure... » Of what? Everything seems wrong. « To make it right. » (Rielsath to Malsaeth) Light flickers in the darkness that isn't the candle. A spark of lightning possibly, but it doesn't seem to last. Just a flicker. « If they are not always how they should be, then you take the time to make it right. » He lets that flame on the candle continue rising with the heat from the gold's ire. « Everyone has their part. Every thing has a way of being. From rider to dragon to the grass on the ground. » An image of an extremely detailed blade of grass flashes. « Sometimes it cannot be changed. By changing it, it changes everything around it too. » There is a pause and then a question, his whisper making the candle light flicker only briefly. « Would your Lujayn like to talk about it too? » The question is followed by an image of the High Reaches lakeshore. « X'lar may talk, but he can listen too. If it would help yours. » (Malsaeth to Rielsath) Fierce agreement, relieved to find something true amidst confusion. All this energy and no enemy to spend it on.. « We do. We make things right when they go wrong, » The icy shore is considered, a hint of calmer protectiveness felt for her lifemate. « Maybe. I just don't want them to hurt. » The injured, her Lujayn, everyone. (Rielsath to Malsaeth) Relief seems so tender and fragile in the darkness, perhaps because of Malsaeth feeling Rielsath's own fierce agreement and relief. « We make things right when they go wrong. » he repeats, if only for more emphasis, agreeing on every level. « It is up to her, is it not? X'lar finds other ways of working through it all. But he has always found that talking helps the most for him. » The darkness continues to sit there, lit only by that single lit candle. (Malsaeth to Rielsath) Though the conversation has taken an upward turn, no other lights join the first and only candle. Darkness or not, the flame provides warmth for it all. It does happen to be Lujayn's choice, one Rielsath asks after in a pause. « When he's here, she will meet him. She's worried, too. » That's as close as it gets to admitting her own anxieties in plain terms. « Isn't he? » (Rielsath to Malsaeth) The bronze needs only that single flame from the candle in the darkness. « Of course, Rielsath. » Malsaeth offers to the gold, to assuage her anxiety, but still earnest in response. « How could he not be worried? » No answer comes from the gold, her focus upon the eternal flame and the vast, surrounding darkness, enjoying silent company. After a time it becomes apparent she has drifted away, leaving the candle behind to its own end - whatever that may be - with Malsaeth. If X'lar is worried, he might still need it. (Rielsath to Malsaeth) |
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