#tysm for the message! :D i know it wasn't necessarily meant as a prompt but i took it as one haha

[blackjackkent]

random thought, feel free to ignore- but i wonder, considering the similarity in location, if the "selunite enclave outside the city" aylin and isobel mentioned would be hector's monastery in this worldstate?

HOLY SHIT. \o/

Hang on, I need to drop everything and roll with this idea because I love it. You just made my whole evening.

------

"Father Enric!"

The young acolyte is breathing hard as he comes to a stop inside the small chapel on the north end of Silverlight Monastery.

Enric, startled from his prayers, looks up with a raised eyebrow, then slowly, painfully shifts himself to his feet. (Age is telling on him, after all these years, despite all the training and discipline to which he has devoted his life.) "Calm yourself, Jakob," he says gently, keeping his voice deliberately calm in the face of the younger man's agitation. "Speak softly and without heat. What is it?"

In truth, he can guess. Another sally by the Absolutists - that terrible cult that has risen from the south. They have made three attacks against the monastery thus far, and the walls have held against their arrows and battering rams-- but not without damage, and not without casualty to the monks and clerics within.

The last attack was only three days ago, he thinks bleakly. We are not ready for another so soon.

But Jakob's news surprises him - it is not that at all.

"Two visitors on the road, Father Abbot, sir," the boy says. He is trying to maintain his composure but failing-- there is fear in his expression, and also a sort of perplexed excitement. "They come alone, but armed. One of them is an aasimar, father, and Brother Lloyd on the wall says that where the moonlight touched her, she glowed like a beacon!"

Enric's eyes widen. He reaches out to put a hand on Jakob's shoulder. "See that they are brought to my office at once. And wake someone in the kitchens."

-----

An hour or so later, there is a soft knock at his office door.

"Come in." He turns from where he is standing by the window, and finds himself meeting the eyes of a woman some three or four inches taller than he himself.

She puts an arm across her chest, bows respectfully. "In the name of the Lady we both serve, I greet you, Father Abbot," she says gravely.

Her eyes are so pale as to be almost white, and her skin to match, shot through with lines of gold like a piece of mended pottery. The wings at her back would likely stretch the width of the small office if she extended them, but one is furled at her back and the other wrapped around the shoulders of a smaller and rather exhausted-looking half-elf woman, who is leaned up against the aasimar's side as if huddled against a tree in a storm.

"And I you," Enric answers, inclining his head politely. "You are--" He hesitates. "I hope you will forgive the presumption, but I hope my guess is correct. Are you the Dame Aylin that once walked these lands as our lady's right hand?"

She smiles slowly. "I am. It may be told by the moonlight upon my sword and the righteous fire within my heart."

Enric allows himself the briefest flash of pride at the monastery's record-keeping; even to the armor she wears, she looks exactly as the histories describe her. But that pride is almost lost in a much greater wave of emotion that is pure awe, for Dame Aylin (those same histories say) is the daughter of Selune herself. She has not been seen in the flesh for over a century. The last records of her are in letters from Moonrise before that cursed place fell to darkness.

"You honor us with your presence at Silverlight," he says. He starts to kneel, but she shakes her head impatiently, reaches out and takes him by the arm.

"We have come to aid your fight," she says briskly. "For we have seen the darkness of the Absolute face to face, and know the struggle that has set upon you these many weeks. My darling Isobel and I shall be the sword and shield of my mother on your behalf."

The half-elf at Aylin's side -- Isobel? -- smiles wearily. "After a night's rest, I should hope," she murmurs, then adds to Enric, "We have come many leagues in a short time, that we might be of service to you."

Enric's practiced self-control is serving him well here -- but only with difficulty. The urge to simply gape in astonishment at the two new arrivals is considerable. "To stand at your side against this evil is a blessing none of us would have dreamed of," he says softly. "We would gladly accept, and offer you in return all that is ours in sustenance and shelter."

Aylin looks pleased. "A bargain it is, then," she says. Lifting one eyebrow, she studies Enric thoughtfully for a moment. "I see shades of him in you, most certainly - the shades which would have been passed by a lifetime's teaching. I am sure you are the man Hector has often spoken of. Enric of Trielta."

Enric is so startled that for a moment his self-control slips utterly. And though some of the surprise is at hearing this divine creature utter his name, more is for the source she mentions for her knowledge.

"Hector?" he asks. His eyebrows lift in sudden urgent question. "Forgive me-- do you speak of Hector Carlisle?"

Twin smiles flash onto the faces of both women at the name. "She does indeed," Isobel says.

"Hector is alive?" Even Enric himself is a little surprised at the rush of joy that goes through him at the news. "We all thought-- when the attack came upon the city, that terrible ship... we thought he must be dead. He was only in the market long enough to purchase supplies, but he never came back..."

"I can assure you," Aylin says, "Hector has not only climbed from the pit of that ship but triumphed over forces the likes of which we may all fervently hope you can never comprehend. You should be deeply proud to call him brother."

"As I am, and have been, and will be. Moonmaiden be praised... you are truly a bearer of all the best of news."

A flash of something that might be humor goes through the aasimar's eyes. "Should you expect anything else of Dame Aylin?" she says, raising one eyebrow.

"I--" He blinks, stammering uncertainly.

"My love jests," Isobel says, a little dryly. "It is hard to tell sometimes, I know."

Aylin makes a soft snorting noise but does not dispute the statement.

"But what she says of Hector is true," the half-elf goes on. "He saved us both from a deep darkness at Moonrise Towers, after a century of loss, and has gone on to the city to face down the heart of the Absolute. I will not tell you his story while he still remains to perhaps one day tell you himself... but I will say that he speaks of you, of this place, every day-- with loyalty and gratitude."

She hesitates, then adds delicately, "You may, I suspect, not quite recognize him as the man who left, when he returns again."

That is a sobering thought, and Enric has to pause to consider it for a while before answering. "If he has faced the darkness so closely as you say, it would be foolish of me to expect it," he says finally. "But I cannot express how much it gladdens me to hear that he lives. He has been greatly missed, these last months."

He gestures to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please. Sit. I will have food and drink brought, and I hope you will tell me more of what you have seen, and what still lies ahead to do."