An Age of Mysterious Memories

Leaping off of Lil, I flip down towards the aerie, probably spooking the crap out of Littlebit, having forgotten I’ve got her latched onto me like a vice. Room is slowly cleared for the unexpected swathe of guests, or, well, new arrivals. Whatever you’d like to call them.

I’m about to start explaining, when I begin hearing murmurs from the civilians of things like, “Woah, no way. Is that Schism? Does Schism look super-hot to anyone else with those horns and that, mm tail?”

Blushing, I try to focus on what I was going to do in order to fill people in. Instead, one of the ancients that lands assumes his human form, after unloading his passengers, and attempts to muscle me aside to speak to my wife. He’s unsuccessful in muscling me aside, but he certainly has both of our attention. He waves towards the other eleven ancients landing, indicating them as he bows before Kinzul.

Furrowing her brow, my wife muses, “Harrelk? I—, hadn’t expected to ever see you again. The answer is still no, but, I’m glad to see you’re well.”

A bit cheekily, the ancient responds, “Well, since apparently your spouse murdered mine, I figured it was worth a shot at least. Besides. It’s good to see Solace again, knowing it’s been doing well under your care all this time.”

Flushing with embarrassment at having been called out as a murderer, I struggle to maintain my calm. I beat myself up about the very same thought, quite constantly, but Harrelk passed it off as a joke. I can’t say I’m fond of the idea of joking with someone’s morality identity.

When Kinzul turns to me, and jokes, “Really my love, you bring me a dozen new suitors, such a short time after we’d wed? It almost seems like you don’t desire our bond after all,” I nearly trip over to fall flat on my face.

Choking on my own tongue, I cough and sputter, while Kinzul grins deviously across our mental wavelengths. Right, I forgot. That’s where Illy gets it from. I can hear Iylynila snickering quietly beneath her breath from a short ways away. And of course, Prinrin is cackling along our telepathic wavelength.

One wavelength I did not expect, and especially didn’t expect in the current emotion, glp, is Farzhis’s. I’m feeling waves of, erm, I hope I’m wrong, but lust, I think aimed my direction. I can sense her attempting to corral her wits, and rattle her senses though.

Across our telepathic bond, in her delightful accent, Farzhis responds to my senses, “It’s jus’, you’re blue, an’ those horns, an’ tha’ tail—. I, uh, jus’ don’ wan’ to misrea’ things.”

My eyes flash wide, not even realizing my skin pigment had returned to the chaotic magic color without my noticing yet again! No wonder people weren’t sure I was me when looking at me! It keeps on doing this! How much time have I spent blue since dying, despite having attempted to transform it away?

Unthinkingly, I quickly verbally assure Farzhis aloud, “Oh, oh crap! I’m, I’m sorry. It’s just, I died, and was reincarnated, and cursed by chaotic magic to turn blue and—, erk! Not that it’s a curse to be blue! Blue’s an incredibly lovely color and looks beautiful on you, absolutely, I, I mean, crap. Wild, crazy, chaotic magic hit me with a bunch of random effects. One of those was apparently to set my default pigmentation to be blue, such that I have to be actively fighting to remain any other pigment apparently.”

There’s more than a little bit of sudden silence on the aerie, and startlement along telepathic wavelengths at hearing my admitting to Farzhis that I died. Whoops. I was going to be more delicate about that. Now everyone on the aerie knows. Kinzul gazes on at me worriedly, and I don’t know what to do to comfort her, or assuage her fears. I attempt to approach her, but I’m balked for several reasons.

I realize I’ve still got a gorgeous goblin woman clinging to me for dear life, which causes me to facepalm. Struggling to return to my normal pigmentation with my shapechanging, and gently attempting to set Littlebit on firm ground, I’m about to try to start defusing the situations that are rapidly spiraling out of control at this conflux of events and meetings.

Of course, as I’m about to do that, I hear gasping, and Shiz asking, “Little Zel? I’ve not seen you since I was training you and sparring. Star pupil you were!”

Gnawing my lip, I spy Zel almost glowing, or even perhaps blushing at the praise as they respond, “Zelshiz now, my lord.”

Woah. Shiz is now definitely blushing as he stares wide-eyed at Zelshiz. Coughing to compose himself, Shiz offers up, “I’m, err, flattered. You sure about that? I, I don’t object mind you. I mean, at all. I’m actually, koff. I just, I mean, I’m a dragon, and you’re a Drakk. We’d, koff, um, what I mean is—.”

There’s timidity, blushing, pride, and a whole lot more coming off of Zelshiz in waves. Oh. I’m guessing that taking on his name as part of hers, or his, like that, um, wow. I’m still not sure the best way to approach Zelshiz’s bigender terminology, but at least I think that’s not going to get in the way of what’s happening here.

Mumbling apologetically, I offer, “I’ll, um, maybe you two want some privacy to catch up? I’m—, yeah, glad you’re okay Zel. Neither of you are obligated to stay up here while I fill everyone in, if, erm, yeah. If you don’t need privacy, don’t mind me.”

Of course, my loving wife asks aloud, what everyone is thinking, “So my love, what exactly happened today that you return to Solace with so many new faces? New and old alike.”

Blushing now myself, once again, I start off, “Right, erm, those of you that are new to Solace, that came with from Vorzog’s Keep, you’re technically our prisoners, because you surrendered and accepted mercy, which means we will protect you, and that you do not have to fight in this war. You may choose to fight alongside us if you so wish, and it seems that that may be the case, since you elected not to stay in the ‘Twixt. Whichever you choose, you’ll be sheltered, fed, cared for, and protected, like family. Thank you for accepting my mercy. Thank you for choosing to accompany me and Zelshiz back to my home.”

Turning slightly, I further address, “To the dozen ancients, I haven’t yet gotten your names, sorry. You are here because we slew Qlaxianna, two of her consorts, and two of her enforcers, that were extorting the refugees in the ruins of Jeegoobotstan. You came of your own free will after being convinced by Driezyln. Whether you simply seek shelter at Solace, a home, a place to belong, to aid us in battle, or to court my wife Kinzul, you are welcome here so long as you remain peaceful and respectful to all its denizens. Lady Kinzul will handle sorting out any courting she does or does not want to allow. I respect her wishes, autonomy, and every last bit of her.”

Addressing the goblin cutie that’s returned to clinging to me, despite us having been landed for a while, I whisper directly into one of her amazing, gorgeous massive ears, almost silently, with my psychic walls temporarily up, almost entirely for Kinzul’s benefit so as not to call out Littlebit to everyone on the aerie, “And you Littlebit, lover of my beloved Tiktik, inventor, artificer, I will be introducing you to someone whose talents are similar to your own, as well as to a wealth of both materials, and tools of the finest qualities. You don’t have to fight, ever, if you don’t wish, though it seems like your automatons, your robots, your golems, might be combat capable. For Tiktik’s heart, I will protect you with all that I have, and all that I am. You’re safe.”

Blushing, chagrined when she realizes she’s clinging desperately to the spouse of the domain’s ruler, right in front of that ruler, Littlebit scratches the back of her head, appearing abashed. She mutters, “Clankers,” and as I raise my eyebrow, having overheard her muttering, she explains, “That’s what I call them, anyway. They’re my clankers. Your names are good for them too.”

Smiling at Littlebit, I’m happy calling them whatever she’d like. Hm, speaking of the inventor that I want to introduce her to—. Kinzul telepathically interrupts me, chiding, “It seems that since you’ve started her on various projects, and granted her tools, boons, and magical equipment, Nala has been somewhat remiss in her duties as librarian. She’s been apparently spending every waking moment in your craftworks in Mount Verdimenn.”

I’m incredibly grateful when Kinzul smirks and looses the tiniest chuckle, indicating she’s not actually upset by the situation wherein Nala has been exploring her new interest in artificery. Sighing, I take in the sight of so many people so utterly beloved to me, gathered in one spot. I wish Iylynila didn’t request or require me to have my walls up on our psychic wavelength, but I trust her to look after her own emotions and what’s best for her.

Suddenly, Kinzul announces, “As my spouse, our Hero has said, welcome all. To those of you interested in courting me, the answer of course is no. We’ve a war to fight, I’ve no time for such things. If you wish to in some small way curry my favor, then serve the Order itself as if it were your lady, your mistress, your master. Sun, my beloved son, I’ve need of you for a short moment. Muse, my beloved bard, I’ve need of you for the eve as soon as you’re able. The rest of you either rest, or engage the siege below to rout any of its remaining forces still near our domain that have not already fallen back or been felled.”

Rattling my skull, I double check my portable hole, in order to make sure Shlendtikuar, Chuck, and the lovebirds are out of it. Okay, apparently I let them out earlier, whew. There they are over there. Once I’m certain that everyone is on the aerie, I pack it back up.

Sighing, I’ll be attempting to head towards rest as soon as I’m able to, but I’ve got things to wrap up. When Pawn comes streaking up to the aerie, I expect her to zoom straight to Prinrin, but I’m surprised to find her in my arms, with tear-streaked face. She’s muttering thanks to me, and I can only hazard a guess as to why. I stroke her back and comfort her as best I’m able, cooing softly as I rest my chin along her jaw, nuzzling her lightly.

Miraina telepathically sends to both me and Prinrin, “Schism, the powers you shared saved me today, probably saved a lot of us. Me and Shiz and the Eight—. It was so scary. I’ve never been so scared.” Though she continues to sob for a while, her eyes open and dry enough to take me in, leading to her musing, “I—. What’s this now? Blue, and horns and a tail? Not exactly scales, but—.”

Flustering, I recall how Miraina had said that any mate of hers needs to have scales at least most of the time. Prinrin frowns at Miraina across our telepathic wavelength, when her daughter went from frightened to— foxy in the blink of an eye. A tad chagrined, Pawn withdraws, and rushes to her mother. I rattle my skull, attempting to shake loose any rude or indecent thoughts. Though I’d dearly like to check in with so many of these people that are so beloved to me, there’s enough of a cluster of a social gathering that I’m beyond uncomfortable, and it would take too much time to interject into conversations to talk to them individually.

Sighing, I float down into the feasting hall from the aerie while carrying Littlebit. Prinrin and Pawn apparently rush after me. I really hope I’m not about to be tag teamed by another mother daughter tease fest. I’ve already got one of those going on. Not that Miraina isn’t an absolutely wonderful young woman, but—, erk, never mind. Yes, I can sense the two of you smirking. You aren’t subtle at all. Not that any of us wants you to be, but I think we all need some rest, and I’ve got too many irons in too many fires to be able to spare the time blushing. I’m glad you’re both okay. I’ll trust you to forgive me if I happen to accidentally think about Pawn’s implication of dating or mating me.

Whispering telepathically to Miraina I add, “Seriously though, I’m so glad the powers were helpful to you Pawn. I’d be devastated if you were hurt, or worse, no longer here when I returned. Obviously your mother would be as well, and that would doubly break my heart. You’re so brave, and thoughtful, and kind. Please stay safe.”

Apparently the blue pigmentation comes back within a minute of me changing it out to my normal pigmentation. I facepalm, because I see Farzhis leaning around a corner to gaze after me, struggling with her own feelings. She’s still got grief on her plate, and went to battle today, she really doesn’t need whatever confusing signals I’m unintentionally sending to have to deal with on top of all that. Poor sweetling. Rattling my skull, I organize a few volunteers to help with intake, including Alanea, since she’ll be heading up the infirmary, and most of our new Draconiac Spellknights need to be taken to the infirmary.

I feel more than a tad abashed that I haven’t really spoken to Alanea since we left the Heart. Plus, I’m still missing at least ten minutes, up to an hour of memories with her. I feel even worse yet, that I’m basically assigning her a task, and heading off a different direction. I don’t know all of what we spoke about for an hour, but would it have prepared her to be basically tossed into work without us spending time together? It’s insane that a block of time is just missing. Gods, I—. I fell in love with her when I was first in the Heart. I truly did, and I’ve barely said a word to her, despite having apparently requested that she come to join my war effort. I must seem so heartless. Oh, here she comes.

Before I can apologize, Alanea cuts me off, “Well, I um, I figured it would be sort of, well, like this. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m not unused to seeing, um, my, well, lover only rarely. Well, I mean, not that we, but, well, not that we aren’t, if, I mean, well. I mean lover. I mean you lover. I mean your lover. I mean my lover. Erm. Eep!” After squeaking mousily, Alanea tenses to mumble, “I’ll be in the infirmary.”

When her face ignites into a virtual blaze, I can certainly sympathize. Immediately after, Alanea suddenly rushes off, and I don’t think she even knows where she’s going, because the infirmary isn’t in that direction. I facepalm, because I certainly felt secondhand embarrassment from that brief conversation on her behalf, and I’d have been equally as mortified to accidentally admit the same thing. Still, I mean—. I sigh sadly for a while. It’s not like either of us don’t want that sort of future together. I sort of forget that she can read me like an open book. I suppose all the people I let get close to me can all do that in one way or another.

Kinzul can literally hear my inner monologue, apparently every minute of every day, no matter where I am or what walls are up. Prinrin’s a whirlwind ride of emotions that can suss out the emotional meanings behind every subtle twitch of the face, and intuit the thoughts behind them. Luni knows me inside and out, thoroughly enough to prevent my brain from destroying itself. Te and I have been together, building our lives’ stories together, almost the entirety of our lives. Iylynila struck some chord in me that let me learn about a part of myself that I didn’t even know I’d had, or would enjoy. Errissa, well, that was a whammy, but I can’t say it’s undeserving. She observed me for a while, maybe a few days straight for all I know, with her being the unobservable Spymaster. Alanea of course can read the story written on my inner changeling-Fae self.

Sighing, I’m fighting myself again for feeling like some sort of harem-seeking weirdo. I have to remind myself that I’m no such thing. I’m close with dozens and dozens of people. I know hundreds and hundreds of people at least acquaintedly, and I know thousands of people tangentially. I just give my love freely, and that doesn’t necessarily mean romance, or romantic affection. Those that fall within my circles of romantic affection make up a tiny, tiny fraction of the people I know. I’m not just chasing every person that’s aesthetically pleasing to my eye, or attractive visually, or any other such thing, despite how it may seem. It’s not even anywhere on my priorities to find new romantic partners. I barely find time for the ones I have, despite having every desire to be able to do so. Hell, I couldn’t even drag Teuila, My Wings, away from the gathering that’s debriefing and socializing on the aerie.

I’m only a little surprised at how seemingly little worry they’re paying to the siege, but I know our Queens, Vylon and Vyela, are tremendously powerful, and likely have been deployed to guard the entrances now, rather than guarding the initial shop dugout. Some of the assembled back on the aerie are probably even talking about relief order I suppose. Kinzul would let me know if I needed to hasten to the front in order to break up the siege. One thing I did notice, is that for the first time ever, the Worldstorm is seemingly randomly oscillating close enough to touch Mount Solace, providing no clear path up the mountainside, when there’d always been at least a thin enough trail for someone humanoid-sized to drop down previously. I’m assuming that’s intentional by Kinzul, and not a sign of worse control over the Worldstorm. Hopefully.

Across our wavelength, in her delectable accent, Farzhis asks, “Schism? D’you—. Sorry. Earlier I hear’ you thinking abou’ the skin. My brain’s jus’, jus’ grasping a’ anything I suppose, with da’ being gone. I like the color on you. A lo’. A lo’ a lo’. Thank you for caring, for no’ wanting to confuse me. I’m worrie’ tha’ you die’ though. Don’ do tha’ again. Please? Please? Jus’, jus’ please? Sorry.”

Gulping back my own emotions to try to present a stable front for Farzhis, I respond, “It’s okay sweetling. I’ll do my best. Sorry to worry you, and sorry about the confusing signals. I swear it’s chaos magic. It saved my life, but, well, side effects. I mean, it’s not like I don’t—, erm, anyway. Focus on healing, on taking care of yourself. I’m here for you if you need me.”

Putting my walls up, I just barely stopped myself from pursuing Farzhis. I rattle my skull, frowning at myself. She needs friendship, not someone lusting after her. When she’s healed, at some point after that, if she’s ready to seek romance on her own, she’ll land pretty much anyone she desires. Neither she nor I need me to insert myself anywhere in that process. The reasons she’d land anyone aren’t just because she’s insanely attractive with a delicious accent. She’s charming, endearing, driven, a good person, a hero, warm, funny, and even loving, even though, in her own words, in her own selfish ways.

Friggin’ a though, Veril is right. Yeesh. Poor guy. I kind of hope they get together in the end, and that they feel sort of monogamous towards each other. They’re sweet together. There’s a bit of cute juxtaposition in the couple too, in that Farzhis is just a bit taller than average, and has a tiny hint of brawn by having the slightest bit more meat on her bones than average, while Veril is shorter and more effeminate than average.