An Age of Mysterious Memories

Rushing towards her, I catch Leezahna's eye, the words “I’m sorry Leeza,” stumbling out, my gaze dropping to the ground, unable to bear the weight of her stare. It takes me a moment to collect myself to explain, “for making you wait. Also, crap, sorry for not asking your permission to use a nickname. My apologies Leezahna. We’ve had a major security breach by a Latent-empowered shapeshifter. I’m trying to get all the people I care about on telepathic networks as soon as possible, and I’d like you on one with the others that spend most of their time around Mount Verdimenn. I—. Crap. It is not an order. You do not have to consent to this. It will complicate matters for your, and other people’s safety, if you say no, but I promise you I will work around it.”

As Leeza’s face contorts she nods, a barely perceptible dip of her head, her voice a tangled knot of resignation and confusion. “Fine, um, to both first things. Whatever. I guess.” Her fingers twitch at her side, a silent drumming of unease as she continues, “What’s the, what consent do you need?”

I should really stop ramming my forehead into walls. Pausing my light thunking of the wall with my skull, I address Leeza, “The consent would be to enchant you with telepathy to a small group of people, eight people, one of which would be me. Any time I’m within something like half a mile of you, you could send a message to me instantly, and I’d be able to instantly respond or send help.”

Then, recalling that she probably doesn’t know how setting up the enchantment works, I clarify, “Before you say yes or no to that, it does require me enchanting you, which is a process which requires putting at least one of my fingers on you with runic paste, in order to draw the runes upon your flesh, mostly your back.” The horror with which Leezahna gazes at me as color drains from her face and her breath catches makes me gulp as I finish, ”I completely understand your hesitation and that look. My apologies. We’ll figu—.”

Furrowing her brow, Leeza seems to fight an internal struggle before responding, “N-n-no. We-,we’ll. No. We won’t need t-t-to. I’ll, I’ll consent, t-t-to it. T-to your t-touch.”

Holy crap she’s terrified of me. I verbally bullied her near to death to break her out of the dangerous disdain she had for the lives of others, and now she’s shaking like a leaf at the mere thought of me having to touch her. Oh god, I have some of Vorzog’s troops coming down here. I’m a friggin’ monster! Wait, no, they’re Triorgraiz’s and Zelshiz’s subordinates as far as I’m aware. They all seemed to be slightly different in disposition honestly. Is *she* going to recognize that though? Or am I just going to traumatize her even more?

Wearing a sad, supremely apologetic face, I begin to try to explain, “I, I killed Vorzog, and Adkre, and I have no idea how many dozens or hundreds of their troops died in the battle. I spared Triorgraiz and, well, you’ve seen Zelshiz wandering around with Shiz. I—. I don’t know how to ask your forgiveness for bringing home some of Zelshiz’s subordinates. I feel like an absolute, utter monster. If you want to take a swing at me with this, I’d understand. I won’t stop you. Just, don’t try to use its magic.” My words are delivered with a weight akin to the stones of Mount Verdimenn itself.

The heft of Frostburn in my grasp feels heavier than it ought to, like it carries the weight of my sins. The blade’s dual elements a testament to the lives I've taken, that I’ve had to take the entirety of both of my lives, since even before I gained thermokinesis. As if the blade itself is judging me as far back as the first times I’d gained control over freezing and fires, or even beyond. I get lost in a reverie of self-recrimination, guilt. Grasping Frostburn by the blade as I offer its hilt to Leeza, she flinches at the sight of it at first.

I can’t help but see it as an olive branch, a plea for absolution I’m not sure I deserve. The way Leeza gazes at Frostburn before tentatively plucking it from my grasp by its handle speaks volumes. She isn’t really a rebellious warrior with disdain for life, unlike her portrayal on the aerie that day. When Leezahna chews on a strand of hair that falls into her face, and grips the waistband of her fashionable, well-fitted dress so hard that the knuckles of her left hand go white, I can tell that the offer, and the choice, is forcing her to confront emotions that she’s struggling with.

Rather than simply sating my guilty conscience, my offer to her, I hope, is more about giving her the chance to see that I don’t see myself as better than her, or above retribution. I’d already told her as much while we faced off on the aerie, but I wouldn’t blame her if it didn’t sink in back then. If she wants to scar my face, or gouge a hand, or stab me, I’d understand. Still, she just seems to be looking the blade over, over and over again. I think I should survive anything she throws at me other than a direct beheading, but I’d raven-port away before I let that happen. Despite wanting absolution, I’ve got too many people to protect to let myself die to get it.

Shaking her head, Leeza throws the legendary sword off to the side somewhere and rolls her eyes while scoffing. Her refusal to strike, the way she discards the sword, it's a reprieve that feels like a condemnation. I'm grateful, yet the guilt clings to me as tangible as the cool air of the cavern around us. Her shoulders droop, letting out tension I hadn’t even noticed she’d been carrying before she mutters, “You are so o-overdramat-tic. Everything is so over the t-t-top with you. Here are the numbers. T-t-Triorgraiz was f-fine. Zelshiz is, is a, a weird, thing. Person! Person. Sorry. The Red, um, Ixey would kill me if I didn’t, um, do the, be respectful thing, t-to someone with a gender issue. S-so it’s fine.”

Raising an eyebrow towards Leeza at her assertion that Ixey would kill her, I can tell she recognizes the irony in the exaggeration of her statement after calling me overdramatic. Still, I check over the numbers as my Backpotter form manifests, while drawing Frostburn back to me telekinetically. I stow Frostburn in its sheathe as I realize my Backpotter form has been fully manifesting, and is now finished. Huh. Y’know what? The water katana with its fifteen foot long blade actually makes sense at this size. It’s still ridiculous though. Leeza gawks at me in this form. I don’t think she’d seen it up close before, or maybe even at all. Surprisingly, she reaches out to touch the form, well, me, to either determine my veracity, tangibility, or maybe my soft fuzziness.

Startled when she realizes she’s grabbing a handful of soft fur that’s attached to me, Leeza flinches back away. Still, she watches me collect the materials, and the spare shop, and store them in my inventory. I’m tempted to jokingly offer her an opportunity to float around the void inside of me. Maybe she’d learn something about me that even I don’t know. Suddenly I’m struck with another worry when I recall some people I’d had floating around the void of my inventory recently. Vorzog’s troops. Triorgraiz’s troops.

Very few of Terrorzin’s forces seem at all interested in taking prisoners, and plenty seem quite willing to kill traitors. Triorgraiz was the only one that even offered a ceasefire and terms of surrender. What if, glp, what if Yuri is dead? Yui would go mad with grief, and I think I would too, because I sent him on the mission to keep track of Induul, who’s behaving a bit oddly still. Inhaling a ragged, sobbed breath, I struggle to keep my sadness at bay. I’m not even sure we programmed this form with tear ducts.

Trying to cast my gaze anywhere else so as not to be seen suddenly crying about my worry for the Spellknight twins Ahliyui and Ahliyuri, I drink in my surroundings. The cavern's vastness echoes with the sounds of projects and volunteers, a cacophony like the turmoil within me. The glow lichen casts a light over the chaos of materials and makeshift library. I barely notice the soft luminescence of the lichen as I pass by in the shadows of the pillars, their stoic presence witnessing the tumultuousness of my choices. The bunker-like dome in the center of our project space is so smooth, round, and alien, being this raised bubble of stone sitting in the middle of an otherwise flat expanse, surrounded by pillars. On the opposite side from me, the crafting stations lie scattered, a haphazard sprawl, out of both creativity and necessity. Volunteers experiment with them and work tirelessly, much like my mind refuses to rest.

Letting my mind shut off for a bit, to help keep the sadness at bay during the monotony of simply lifting and picking up material to put inside my cavernous chest’s portal to my digital inventory void over and over and over, time flows by smoothly. Almost seemingly too quickly, I’m done with all the important warrens. Most of them in general. Checking the NFC tracking through my phone, I scroll through the available numbers, and compare them to Leeza’s sheets. They’re all perfect. All except Orichalcum. I’ve got three less sheets than what she calculated.

How do I approach her about this, without making it seem like I blame her? I’m sure she’s accurate, at least as accurate as she can be. But what happened to the other three sheets? Frowning, I look around, and fish around in my inventory, trying to see if any of my inventory or Backpotter form mechanisms are faulty. Nothing seems off. Maybe one of the volunteers figured three sheets wouldn’t hurt, when they were harvesting the materials to set aside for me to take today?

Before I can figure out how I want to approach her, Leezahna’s astute gaze catches my hesitation. She questions in an almost accusing tone, “Something’s wrong isn’t it? I swear I checked and double checked my calculations.”

Trying to be honest, yet holding a hand forward placatingly, while conveying what I need to, I quickly respond, “Yours, your calculations are perfect, all of them, every single one. I, I think. There’s one that I’m wondering if you saw anyone walking away with three units of. The Orichalcum sheets.”

Pausing, I decide I should add something to clarify how I don’t find her at fault, “I’m not blaming you at all and you’re not responsible for keeping track of them yet. We haven’t set up a supply depot for you to own and operate yet. I didn’t want to throw that much responsibility at you at once. I’m proud of, impressed by, and grateful for your work so far. Again, you did nothing wrong. There’s only the one number that doesn’t match up.”

Frowning at me, Leezahna glares momentarily, before catching herself. Averting her gaze, she mutters, “I’d have marked it if I saw it. But, well—. I, I guess there were a few minutes, I was hiding in my room. The Green, ugh, he’s not as smooth as he thinks he is. I had to get away from him after he tried t-t-to ugh, flirt I guess. Normally I’d be flattered t-to be hit on by a t-titled, but something’s off about him.” After briefly collecting her wits and catching her breath, Leeza follows with asking, “You really want me t-to be a supply depot quartermaster? That wasn’t just—. I don’t know. You t-t-trust me with that?”

Gnawing on my lip, I’m trying to figure out how far along in our trust relationship we are, and what I need to remind her of, about trust and responsibility interplaying. Going out on a limb, I offer up, “It’s not so much whether I trust you or not, because I do. It’s about what you do with that trust. Giving you the extra responsibility is essentially the punishment you chose for yourself. The opportunity to prove to me you won’t break my trust again, and even more power over things that matter in a way that breaking my trust could be a very big deal. I’ll never hurt you for a mistake or—.”

My muscles slump and droop wearily as my features sag from realizing how I’m still treating Leezahna like a rebellious prisoner that’s a threat to everyone. I change tack, “I won’t hurt you. I’m done threatening you. I’m a monster, and I threatened you, and I’m awful. I don’t know how to set consequences and boundary limits for broken trust, but there will be harsh consequences if it happens at some point.”

Leezahna seems to be waiting for me to describe that trust, or those harsh punishments, as she awaits silently with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. I’m not sure where to begin, so I ramble, “I’m not saying you can’t do something like keep a secret if a friend doesn’t want you to tell me they were drinking or that you have to tell me every detail of your private life, or whatever. That’s not the trust I’m—. Huff, sorry. I’m rambling. I trust you, the answer is yes. You are trusted, and important to me. I’m hoping that that makes *me* worth trusting, believing in, and acting in good faith towards.”

That wall over there is looking really tempting for a forehead bashing. Really tempting. I am horrible at talking, at giving orders, and, and just so much. Ugh. Surprisingly, all Leeza says is, “Okay.” Her brow remains furrowed, and she coldly looks me up and down, but she nods my way, before accepting the papers back, to keep collating them to compare data from day to day.

Did I remember to tell her I’m impressed by her work ethic and stuff? Crap. I’m a crap boss too. Really tempting wall. Really tempting. I’d laugh at myself for mentally telling a wall that I was tempted to ram my head into it, if I hadn’t been slamming my head into walls figuratively and literally all morning today so far. Speaking of slamming figuratively into walls, getting nearly impossible things done is easier with magic powers like the Backpotter form. Quick Reggie, figure out if there’s anything else we needed to do with Backpotter form to—. The doors. The frame has to be wider than the hallway, and we have to stone-shape around it. I should be able to get the frame in my inventory, and place it with my enlarged Backpotter form. The doors can be rolled up on rollers, or that tombstone surfboard thing, and carefully lifted into place.

Rushing back to the forgeworks, they do have the frame done already, in two parts, because it’s the simplest piece, so that’s good, extremely good. I wave to Charles the kobold I’d been working with before enlarging myself. Now, huge, I grip the adamantite frame and slide it into my inventory one piece at a time, though it hurts the hell out of my wrists to try to lift and move it. I mostly have to tilt, angle, and lean it into the cavernous void in my chest that leads to my Can’z’aasian digital inventory. Hopefully this doesn’t turn into another Big-O’Keul situation. Huh, did that just suddenly go in easier? Scratching my head, I shrug.

Where the heck is Lu? Oh thank heavens. Lu is standing with the Queens Vylon and Vyela at the entrance, while Lil is slightly closer to the foothills, still exhaling flame, or exhaling once again. He really did glass a long section of the hallway with how much heat he put out. Melting and crystallizing stone with his fire breath, phew, that’s our Star of the Onyx Dawn for you, Sun, my best buddy Lil. Regardless, I point for the area I need cleared, and with Luni’s, Vylon’s, and Vyela’s help, I get the Orichalcum door-frame in place. I’d say I wonder why they didn’t have doors in the first place, but wood doors would be almost entirely useless. Like, four fifths of dragons can blow up even giant wooden gates from a young age. And they eat metal and minerals, so metal or stone doors would be like wasting food.

The whirlwind of errands, tasks, commands, craftings, and situations that I become and plow through spins my mind so hard, that I can’t even keep track of what’s going on. I know at this point, my Backpotter form has worn off, but I can’t even recall everything I accomplished with it. I need a moment to recover, because I can’t afford to dissociate when I might be walking up to a shapeshifter at any moment. Heaving a sigh, I sit on my arse with my knees halfway up towards my chin, my elbows on my knees, and my face in my palms.

When several lanky digits rest upon my shoulder, I glance up, somewhat surprised to see Ixey before she asks, “Schism, did I—. Did I say anything to you last night, before Lil showed up?”

Gulping, and frowning, I try to let Ixey off the hook gently, “You, ah, we talked, for a few moments. It wasn’t anything earth-shattering. No worries.”

Frowning herself now, a bit more angrily than my expression, Ixeyla glares at me before prodding telepathically, “Is that your final answer Schism?”

My eyes flash wide at the thinly-veiled threat as I hold my hands forward placatingly. Gulping, I answer, “I, you were, I guess just kind of flirty? You were sort of just being a fun, overly-friendly flirt maybe. Or I might have just misinterpreted some things. There were things that had implications and maybe insinuations that I wasn’t sure if you were intentionally implying, so I tried to—. What I mean is, I respect you, and I have love for you and Lil’s relationship, and I mean you as well.”

When Ixey leans down and drapes an arm over my shoulders before setting her face along my shoulder, I’m more than perplexed. While hugging me awkwardly, she mumbles, “You pass.”

Before I can react further, Ixey leans in to smooch my cheek and add, “Not taking advantage of me is pretty hot Schism. Honesty is even hotter. My prince is lucky to have you as a best friend. I don’t lie, or say things I don’t mean. Just so you know.”

At first, my heart is melting from the deeply touching compliment about my friendship with Lil. Wait, what was that about not lying? Did she mean she didn’t lie just now by complimenting me, or while she was flirting last night? As Ixey saunters away however, I’m suddenly choking on my own tongue, coughing and sputtering. I’m pretty sure that that was *another* test. Still, jeeze. Now I’m completely lost and entirely distracted from whatever I was trying to gather my thoughts for. Darnit Ixey, your lanky-arse-ass doesn’t really suit that sort of movement in those tight denim pants, but it’s still cute as hell. Erm, why am I staring at her butt? Friggin’ hell. I’m just gonna blame Pidge and his awkward supposedly useless mystery weirdness Latent. I just realized, I don’t think I’ve seen Ixeyla’s natural red dragon form, the form that has Lil gaga over her as his girlfriend. I wonder if—.

I nearly jump out of my skin when Zayzi appears near me and telepathically mutters, “No kissing,” before simply walking in the direction of their twin sister. It’s a reminder of their dragon-of-few-words nature, and a reminder of a rule they’d set previously. They do offer me a polite telepathic smile as a morning greeting though.

Well that got my heart pumping. Friggin’ hell. Was Zayzi telling me not to kiss Ixeyla? I hadn’t planned on it, well, necessarily anyway. Or were they acting out of self-defense at being a twin to someone I’d been eyeing up unintentionally? I get the feeling it’s the latter. Zayzi doesn’t mind Lil dating and kissing Ixey, but would be upset if Lil wanted to smooch just because Zayzi and Ixey look alike. Though, they might also be worried about losing the little time we spend together, or the time they spend with Ixey, if I were suddenly enamored of their sister, and spending time with Ixey instead. Anyway, none of that is anywhere in my plans right now.

Blargh, I let myself get distracted again. What even *were* my plans at this point?