kethtree

[kethtree]

I am largely settled into the townhouse. I’ve purchased linens and a few necessities for the kitchen. Delanien has promised to have the lower windows barred, though it isn’t common in this neighborhood, and to replace the doors with something that might hold up to a kick. Llachlan wishes to bring me a crock pot. Home again, home again. For all my resentment of the Reach, it is home. For now, at least, while its replacement is yet a dream. Amnoon has its charm, but the rhythms are all off. Hoelbrak exists on an entirely different scale. And Haven, of course, is quiet and sandy and terrifying open-air. I suppose my return was inevitable. Delanien certainly thought so, and was kind enough to reserve one of his rentals for me. He swore it wasn’t part of a plan to draw me back. I told him I absolutely believe that. (I do not believe that.) I spent a few very restorative hours squished between Llachlan and Keys, the latter summoned by the spyder (ha) he has set to watch me at Haven. I am not very okay with that! That is some Ashspawnian nonsense, and I said as much. But it eases his anxiety that someone might gouge out my remaining eye, and so I will permit it. I will *not* permit retribution for the current situation, which is entirely my fault, and made that quite clear. Keys has promised to abide. He’s so ridiculously protective of me. They both are, and it’s going to be a problem. Llachlan has already expressed a desire to fight Keys because they feel he doesn’t acknowledge their “claim” on me. Which. What? How is he supposed to do that? I thought he was very considerate in not trying to hog me away from Llachlan! Is he supposed to announce a formal acknowledgment of our friendship? I don’t know if a tussle would make that tension better or worse:--and I’m not at all sure how Keys might respond if things turned magical. Really, it’s so queer! Not two years ago, Keys informed Trisbaine that Llachlan was a dear friend whom he would trust with his life. Now they both act as if they scarcely know each other. I suppose it’s theirs to work out. I’ve already done a bit of friendly manipulation recently, and oughtn’t push further. Oh! It’s so very exciting! I’ve spent a YEAR trying to get Borya and Keys to have a brawl, and it’s finally happening! Assuming Ceinwen gives her consent, of course, but I can’t see why she wouldn’t. Keys and Borya are both very stupid about each other, and have each convinced themselves that the other hasn’t grown a bit in an entire decade, so it ought to be very fun. There is little I like more than to see those two get their comeuppance. I can think of no greater mood restorative! Llachlan was so excited that they bit me, and I quite agree with the sentiment.

[kethtree]

Keys says that he will see me soon. Wonderful. The one person who can look at me and know instantly what a fucking mess I am. I am vexed. It’s a full season since I realized I’ve lost the place—lost even the markers thereof. I have anchored myself to Ceybal, who is perhaps the most solid thing in all the world; I have spent near every minute of every day in active maintenance (the janitor asserted, quite hilariously, that I spend more time keeping other people’s business together than my own. I chose not to disabuse him of the notion); I have visited the Grove weekly to meditate beneath Mother’s boughs. And what progress have I made? What restoration? None. Mother’s mercy, but I long for those not yet here. This will ease. This will pass. I would do well to remember that, and be patient. I know now to be careful, do I not? It is enough, for the moment, to cling in place. Let the adders writhe. There’s naught they can do.

[kethtree]

It is possible that Kylwch stood me up. Despite his prior punctuality and concern for my well-being, it is possible that he invited me to his home, prepared for my arrival, and spontaneously decided to leave everything behind and go on a lengthy journey without notifying me. It is far more likely that Lucidity was monitoring his communications and disliked us meeting. I suppose I ought to be appreciative that they took only Kylwych, rather than lying in wait for me. Best case scenario: he is imprisoned, unaltered and unharmed, until we are dealt with. Unlikely. Torture or execution also seems implausible; they’ve invested in him. No reason to throw away a good resource. It is more likely that he will undergo--has already undergone--the same process Raettawy did. Eliminate the compromising relationship so that he serves without possibility of fault. Reversible. Acceptable. My greatest fear is that he will be subjected to whatever shaping it is they do those of Nightmare who are deemed “unfit.” Whatever that is. Something awful and bestial, no doubt. Something violent, to be turned against us. Fine. I can deal with that. It’s clear that Lucidity have done their homework. I was identified despite concealing armor and magic I took up only two years ago. They know of me:--and still they do this? What remarkable stupidity! What utter hubris, to regard this creature that cannot be stopped and decide to anger her. They will never reach the Dream. I will arrange a pretty display of them on a shelf in my office.

[kethtree]

Truth be told I find it difficult to care about Raettawy’s condition. She walked right into this without diligence or care, and this is the consequence of her negligence. I have put a hand--well, a fingertip--into the Lucidity matter primarily because I need a project. But Kylwch was there. He was never a favorite, only a dim light in the fog, but he was mine. One of my sunflowers, always turning their faces toward me. He wouldn’t even look at me. There was a long moment when I thought the memory of me might have been closed to him; and if he hadn’t (finally!) acknowledge me I would have brought the entire place down. Does he know what they do? He must have some inkling. He greets every patient. He sees the difference. But does he know? We used to sit together and I would whisper away his doubts. Purpose and glory beyond the ring; all he needed, all he deserved. He stayed behind to escort the stragglers. He swore he’d bring them safely. Idiot. Foolish children, all of us. Didn’t he go after Tierse’s Court? He must not have found them--he wasn’t among those Reyka reported. I wonder if he considers himself fortunate. A receptionist. Mother’s mercy. He didn’t look soft, though. Did he stay in contact with the others? Are there still others? Twenty years is such a long time. I left my card; perhaps he’ll he won’t. He despises me. What joy it is to have all my fears validated! Stars, of all the times for Mindy to go on holiday. Perhaps I should schedule an appointment with this Syrael. It would be a massive conflict of interest, but something tells me Lucidity won’t care. Especially if Raettawy’s been running her mouth about me:--I’d make a tempting morsel. And isn’t it ominous that Liam recognized me! Kylwch won’t write, but I half expect someone else to. I wonder if he still has my He doesn’t. Go to bed, maudlin fool.

[kethtree]

His name is Valorien. The garden is achingly beautiful.

[kethtree]

Murdloc is dead. I am brought to heel. The Hollow Company wins. I was provided two generous options: work for the Company or become its customer in perpetuity. I chose the latter. Though I would excel in such a culture, it would surely have meant a great loss of freedom. My life would belong to the family. As it stands, I need never deal with them again so long as I behave. And I will, of course, behave. I am good at bowing my head. I was given an ID card and Murdloc’s dataslate. Most if its contents were purged. Photos of landscapes, people, his art. A few voice clips. A waypoint that leads to a truly depressing bunker. A snippet of music from a party we danced at, and laughter that might be mine. Nothing that could be used against the Company. He was a shit and a scoundrel. There were moments of kindness that caught me completely off-guard. He was a fantastic dancer. I quite liked Murdloc. Mother, keep his memory. Dream knows few others will. root and rot I scarcely knew the man I shouldn’t be this torn up

[kethtree]

((CW: death wish, medical discussion))

Mindy bids me to write more often.

I could not form the words to beg for release

I dislike the syrup they’ve given me

Suffer well

An accounting of facts:

I was pounced upon by a thing which I am told is called a “manticore,” a lion with great bat wings and a scorpion’s tail. The beast impaled me upon said limb and pumped fire into my belly. A great shadow passed over me as I fell: the herald of my death, I thought, but I suspect it now to be Borya. I was hollowed out. I was mended. I was hollowed out. I was mended. I was hollowed out. The acid was cleansed, and I was mended.

I greatly wished to simply die. I was mocked for that.

Haven’s doctor said that subsequent activity tore still-fragile ligaments. They have been repaired; if I do it again, I am told, surgery will be required and I will be placed on bed rest. I am restricted to liquids for a week whilst my half-new digestive system recovers, and must introduce solid foods only slowly. I was provided with a tincture for the pain. It makes my head muzzy, but if I do not take it then every movement hurts. The whole world is terrible and I resent having a body.

At least I have maintained my grace and poise, and suffered in beautiful silence. Sometimes that is the best one can be expected to do. (I even permitted Solun to take my hand, which was very forward of him, but he clearly needed it quite badly.) All the same, I think I shall hide away for a day or two--not that it will be difficult, as I am exceptionally weary and shall surely spend most of my hours in bed! Which I ought to return to now.

Mindy says that I ought to keep these, when I can bear it. This entry does not seem particularly needful of the flame.

[kethtree]

Serrick swept the board clean while Kethri tied on her blindfold, careful not to disturb her fines. She reached for the first piece before the least was slotted into the case. White pawns to b7, d4, f2...

“How’s our receptionist today?

Knight on h8, turned to become a nightrider. “Brown skirt, light blue shirtwaist--the same she wore Monday, though tomorrow’s her laundry day. Standing lightly on her left foot. Heel looks glued on. Nearly cried when I gave her a muffin; mentioned she hadn’t had breakfast. Give Cecily a raise, Serrick.”

He snorted. “That’s not yours to decide, my dear, but I’ll take it under advisement. We can’t have a representative of Undroak fall into shabbiness. Left bookshelf, second down, third volume from the left.”

“Usually Bitner’s Compendium of Hoof Maladies, never opened, but today you swapped it for Tiffany Grundel’s Sensuous Jade Sea Adventures to be cheeky.” Black queens, a1 and b8.

“You don’t know it was cheek! Present your evidence.”

“It’s you.”

Serrick guffawed. “Sass! Where’s my wallet?”

“You think it’s in your left breast pocket, but actually you got your checkbook again.” White king down, and Kethri dug into her reticule. “Delanien sent it with me.”

“What--” He patted at his jacket. “Damn! Kindly give it over.”

Kethri held the wallet up. “You may have it in exchange for the rook that went up your sleeve.”

His lopsided grin went unappreciated. “Deal. I was certain I’d got that by you.”

Exchange made, Kethri placed the piece upside-down. “And wazier completes the board.” She eased off the blindfold. “How’d I do?”

Serrick checked the layout against a list in his notebook. “Perfection, my dear. Your performed beautifully.”

A soft, eager smile crept over Kethri’s face, lit by a faint glow. “Truly? Do you think--”

“Pity about the bishop on Tuesday, of course.” The notebook snapped shut. “Delanien would have been so pleased if you’d made a full week without a slip.”

Kethri wilted. “O-of course. I’ll do better next week, m’lord.”

“You have my full confidence. Monday, then! Enjoy your weekend, my dear.”

She bobbed and scurried off.

[kethtree]

“Oh!” Kethri straightened, brightening. “Do they still have--we called them “empathy clubs,” but they were house parties, really. A lot of sylvari packed into someone’s basement, and a fellow with one of those fancy asuran stereo systems that does the--” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “You know, the deep sounds? We’d drop all our barriers and dance all night.” Memory made her gaze distant. “It was... intense. The music, the press of bodies, emotions reflecting and reverberating through dozens of minds. Sometimes it was almost like--”

She stopped short, nostalgia suddenly gone. “Yes. Well. It was a fine way to spend an evening.”

[kethtree]

To My Most Gracious and Patient Sister: I know, I know! And I’ve been looking forward to it myself, insofar as I’ve been able to look forward to anything these past weeks. But between work and the business in Kourna and the forthcoming holiday (I have sworn to take Ceybal dancing, “gods willing and the creek don’t rise,” as they say in the country), I fear our schedules simply don’t align. I promise to make time for you soon! I am very curious to learn how you’ve managed to sit still for this “oneiric meditation.” Or perhaps you do it whilst sleeping? You must tell me everything! You will be glad to know that Ceybal’s sister has agreed to give her a chance! I had dinner with Sigrid, Astrid, and their girls, and it couldn’t have gone better. I did have to endure a bit of lecturing, and there was talk of whether I would permit Ceybal to breed (how distasteful!), but it wasn’t awful in the least. Sigrid decided that she does indeed have a sister, and we stayed up telling stories and drinking brandy until I started crying over Ceybal’s ears. An unqualified success! You know, it’s very queer? Her wife reminds me so strongly of someone that I feel as if I ought to know her most dearly, but I can’t for the life of me place her. And I am quite certain I haven’t met an Astrid before! Just one of those funny coincidences, I suppose. Oh, I do wish we were able to meet just now! I should like to gossip about an ongoing fling: a fellow you would surely refer to as one of my “fuckin’ garbage toys.” Which was always a very unkind way to describe them! But rarely inaccurate. The trouble with this one--history and personality aside (which I realize is the entirety of the man)--is that I fear he might be starting to get attached. He has twice put his arm around me, and once referred to me as his “girl.” Ominous! If I wanted a romance, I would take up with someone decent! But he is such fun, and it would be difficult to replace him. Perhaps he was only feeling emotional because of the recent of torture he’d undergone. I might string him along and see where it goes. Certain friends would surely urge me to cease assignations immediately, but certain friends don’t like anyone I bed, so I am not inclined to take their hypothetical advice! I have told you already of Ilehch’s rescue, but not of his return to Haven. It was… well. Things are better now; the halves of his soul have been united, and he seems stronger and more himself than I have ever known him to be. But reaching that point was absolutely harrowing: the rotten cherry atop the blood-soaked cake of this story. Even after he arose, I feared very greatly that Ilehch might have no care for his old life. That does not seem to be the case, fortunately. He still takes my arm and presses his nose to my palm and winds through my empathy, oiled and sharp. He has even promised to uphold his oaths, though I would not ask it of him. I think--I dearly, desperately hope!--that he might truly be himself. I don’t know what I would do if he wasn’t. I couldn’t bear to see him die twice. Oh, but I promise I am not so maudlin as that paragraph must sound! In truth I am much unburdened, lighter and less worried than I have felt in ages. And just in time, as the wedding is only weeks away! I am very glad, in all truth, that my input is not required in the planning. I have organized so very many events for so very many people that I am quite content to let someone else handle things for once! Which I do hope Ceybal doesn’t take as disinterest. But you know how my mind becomes caught; if I had a hand in this, I would be driven to ceaseless distraction from now ‘til then. It will be difficult enough as it is not to spend the entire wedding day arranging things. You must come and entertain me that day, or at least argue with me, so that I do not get in Freydis’ way! Perhaps Wednesday next week? I could hold an hour or two open! Pray inform me as soon as you might. Ever Yours, Kethri

[kethtree]

Apocrypha 11

Kethri. I don't want you visiting me. Not like this. Not when my thoughts are thick as poison. Know that I am fine.

He promised. When war and worse takes my spider and age takes my norn and all the others forsake me, he will walk by my side. He swore to me. Ceybal tells me not to mourn preemptively. I don’t know how to explain in a way that this creature of light and flesh can understand. His empathy had become nearly as familiar as my own. I knew the shape of his soul. I know what he is and should not be, and I know that Ilehch--my Ilehch--cannot simply be drawn from what exists now. All of his color is stolen. I fear it cannot be returned, even if the brother is slain. He will always be half of himself. I think that deserves to be mourned. Even now he lies to me.

[kethtree]

Apocrypha 10

It’s over. Mother’s boughs, I feel as if I could sleep for a week. Perhaps I ought to accept Solun’s offer to take on my work, but--no. I’ve too much to catch up on, and no one else would be as quick.

There remains plenty to fret over, and course, and lose ends that want tying. Vaine languishes in the safe house until Murdloc has working hands. The contractors will need to vanish from their beds. Keys has lost his grip on reality. Ilehch…

Ilehch told me many times that without his brother’s influence, he is shattered and incomplete. I always thought it the result of psychic trauma--furrows gouged into his mind to make room for an invader. I ought to have listened better. Slirsin strove not to supplant Ilehch, but to meld with him. They’ve identical life, empathy, and soul now; even their memories spill over into each other. Perhaps Slirsin, too, felt reduced alone.

One occasionally hears of that sort of thing--a single spirit, split betwixt two bodies owing to some defect of the pod. It nearly always ends with one of them dead. With so many children to grow, it is inevitable that errors creep in. I only wish they weren’t often so grave.

Valkuri believes his not-husband Lyosha can fix the blending and put Ilehch in his proper form. If not, I’ve little doubt that the Path has their own dream-shapers who might be of aid. The brothers are held in a Path facility in the Tangled Depths. Warmaster Abasi greeted me as a familiar protege, as if we hadn’t met only briefly a year ago. Suppose that answers the question of whether Keys truly discussed me with him.

Stars, it hurt to find Ilehch. Realizing just what he had endured, trying to persuade Keys that no, you’ve embraced the wrong one. That one didn’t offer tenderness or worship; he was only in the right body. It would certainly be nice if Keys would learn to bloody trust me, wouldn’t it?

I probably oughtn’t take it personally. I shall regardless. This is becoming a pattern! He begs constantly that I trust him, that I believe him, but does he return it? No. He never trusted me about Murdloc, and I was bloody right, wasn’t I! Neither mice nor Whispers turned up anything I hadn’t pried from him ages ago. Bedding Murdloc worked. I am very good and Keys may soak his head.

If he doesn’t blow it off. Pale Tree help us, I may yet lose them both.

I ought to rest.

[kethtree]

> hey u up Oh, so now you’re speaking to me. It’s 2:30 in the afternoon. Of course I’m up. I’ve been up since Thursday. > yeah sry ive been workin thru some stuff. hutn shit. doin lots better now tho thx for askign What do you want, Reyka? > got a lil bit info on ur boy. not enough. sry. but since im a cool big sis ill take u shoppin to make up for it. late bday pres. n e thgn u want on me I want tranquilizer darts, several anti-magic restraints, ample quantities of fire accelerants, and free use of the safehouse without question for the next two weeks. > ok wow i was thinkin like a new shitterain or sumthin but we can do that. meet me in la i know some guys I can’t be near sylvari right now, I’m sorry. > y th fuck not > cant fukin bliv ur gonna make me do ur fockng shoping hope ur fkucing greatfull You are entirely capable of proper spelling and grammar. >fuk eu anzr teh phfcn kwoschan My empathy is loose. >MOMS FUCKIN TITS Yes. > that shit was fukin CREEPY > walk into a fuckin room and twenty fukin ppl with glassy eyes all fukign turn on u at once i fuckin HATED that shit > stop doin it I am working on it. Leave the items at the safe house for me? > yeh sure ill ping u when im clear You’re being remarkably sanguine about all this. > yeah well like i said i been workin on sum shit. like person shit and shit. mb i been a lil hard on u I… don’t really know what I to say. I never expected to hear anything like that from you. > only maybe. only a LIL. don fukkin think this is an excuse to get fukin uppity I don’t need your permission for that. I never did. Wish I’d realized it sooner. > THAT IS EXCACTLY WHA IM FUKN > ok > ok > im chil > u got a rigt to ur life or whatver > im gonna hit the mrket. we shoudl talk when all this is done Thank you, Reyka. > yeah whatever

[kethtree]

Apocrypha 9

I watched the flame flicker for over an hour, rising and falling and flailing wildly. I do not know if it indicated that Ilehch was being tortured, or that his brother was enacting the long-promised takeover. Perhaps both. I very much fear--I am entirely certain--that we will not find Ilehch before it is extinguished. The world is not so kind. His captor certainly isn’t. 

It will hurt, seeing the light gutter out. I will permit myself to weep. 

Delanien warned against katabasis, as if one must be Nightmare to be nasty. I will peel Vaine open and rip through what’s left of her Hollow Company and hold Sin down for Keys and never slide an inch. There is no reason to. What is the point? I don’t need permission to barricade the doors and burn down her house. I only need a torch. Nightmare is useless to me.

I told him that. He didn’t seem reassured.

Midweek. She isn’t spending that time with her family. Is it for Murdloc? Awful long time to keep him about. I suppose he’s cost her a goodly amount.

I feel so stupid and useless. Better Lamore’s loving hand than this.

[kethtree]

Reyka, Write me back, you terrible slattern. My knight's gone missing and the one you were supposed to find is probably to blame. This isn't the time for one of your periods of petulant silence.

-Kethri

[kethtree]

Apocrypha 8

A poster in my therapist’s waiting room informs the reader that, “Recovery is not a straight line.” I suppose that must be true, as here we are once more: smiles and reassurances, cheery letters, management and mitigation. A old routine, soothing for its familiarity.

Some degree of public distress seems to have been expected, but I caught on too late. I shall have to be more attentive to my display the next time I am violated. It will happen again, there is no doubt of that; I know patterns, and I know the course of my life. If it isn’t Iyana it will be Sagiraa or Lachesis or Serrick. At least I won’t remember if it’s Serrick. I will only see the void.

Would anyone notice if I was altered? Would they mention it if they did? I went six weeks without realizing I had only recently acquired a surname. I had to learn it through paperwork. No one said a thing.

I pore over the gardens as if I could find some threat lurking within. As if I would be able to do anything about it if I did. As if knowing will keep me safe. Daily meditation is no longer sufficient; the pauses in group conversations go politely unremarked upon.

There has been much consternation over the inability to protect my body.

Sodden ground cannot be damaged by acid rain. One must wonder what else can suffuse the soil.

[kethtree]

To My Very Dear Sister, The Sunspears have taken Palawadan! Kamadan now, again. Sunspear Bahar asked our aid, and of course I went--she was (technically) in the Unfortunate Pit with us, and I will always heed her call. It turned out that she and I and several others affected by the Great Hall’s mesmeric waters were implanted with a switch to make us turn sides when the push against the curtain wall was in full swing. Whoops! Pardon if I seem giddy. I am glad to be alive, and that my loved ones are safe. As well, I missed the vast majority of the ugly ground fighting; I was given to Sagiraa, and largely kept in reserve until the insurgents reached the Archon. He was a gentle master. I really ought to despise Sagiraa, but you know that I have never been skilled at hatred. If circumstances didn’t conspire to pit us against each other, we should surely be bosom companions, and it is impossible to not hold some fondness for him. There has never been animosity between us. Fear, yes, and briefly an insult that had to be repaid. But the latter is settled now, and the former--well. Assurances have been made. So it was better to spend the weekend with him than with anyone else I might have been assigned to. Even pleasant, early on:--we gossiped over tea, and he let me pick out a fetching new suit. That ended, of course, as the siege pushed in on us. When not required, I hid in the highest places above the city and watched the ebb and flow of the troops. Currents smashed against each other, scattered into chaos, reformed again. It was edifying. Perhaps I make it sound as if I only observed, and never fought. I did; I shattered bones and ripped out souls and cut horrific swathes. I merely did it in the safest (albeit most cowardly, but survival above pride) manner possible. And the simplest; I kept my thoughts only on what I saw, and on what I was instructed to do. I was not required to act independently. Awakened don’t have the luxury of doubt. They are made to believe whole-heartedly that they will prevail; to do otherwise might cause them to falter in defending their King. But for all I adored Joko, I could not join them in their certainty. It was ever unlikely that the Sunspears would succeed, yes, even with the Pact behind them; but from my perches I saw their inevitable progress. By the time we were summoned to defend Iberu, I knew the act was futile. He was backed into a bloody hole, for Mother’s sake. A battle can’t be won from a hole. I was briefly slain in order to free me from the mental affliction to which I had been subject. That’s twice in two months. I do hope it doesn’t become a pattern. Jarekai was kind enough to fetch my missing eye from Sagiraa’s corpse, and I swallowed it just as he once did. I… don’t really know what I expected to come of that; it simply seemed to be the right thing to do. I doubt it would have grown in had I replaced it in the socket. I rather fear what the effects might have been if it had. Stomach acid is safer. So! Here I am, two days later, hale and hearty despite taking a sword to the chest. Dawn will rise in Caledon in an hour. I have decided to make a late pilgrimage to the Grove; being tardy is so outside of my regular pattern that I’ve no fear of doing so. (Have you made any progress regarding the brother, by the by?) It is a good way, I think, of cleansing myself, and of preparing for the days ahead. The war isn’t about to slow down. I shan’t, either. Devotedly Yours, Kethri