Meditations, Memories, Recollections - Aden Delaveth's Character Development Journal

[Aphel]

~The first thread~

He sat down next to the tree, the grass still warm from the day. It was good to have for once a place far away from the loud trouble and stench of human life. Aden felt tired and closes his eyes. Many things had happened since he had last sat down for a meditation, and even more were on his mind. Sixty-five breaths until he had ordered his thoughts, picked a single thread and followed it, let it branch, be woven, expand.

It was too late when I realized what I had gotten myself into. Again.
I can't even recall why I traveled deeper into the land instead of staying close to the coast. How could I forget the sea, the seagulls and  the wind? The passage was rough, but great and intimidating at the same time. It wasn't boring either, but the work was hard and challenging. An interesting experience many might overlook, simply thinking of the danger and what they endured. The sea is a harsh mistress and does not discriminate between rich and poor: the richest merchant and the poorest sailor survive or die depending on their skill and sheer luck. The sea is uncertainty, and information what separates a dead sailor from one that makes it to the harbor. People on solid ground seem oblivious to this, yet it is just as true here as on the sea.
These ships have their own dynamics, and it is not a world I could live in for long. But maybe it is the human self that escapes my grasp. Yes, I think I left Port Hempstead to escape the odor of humans for a while.
But this small village is not better. Not for me, either. It is the kind of place that follows the slow beat of the seasons, a place where every traveler is perceived as an adventurer with many coins in his pocket and a unfriendly attitude, willing to help out with the oddest tasks. Yet it is not as hostile as bigger cities, but just as boring. I will see what I can learn here, then move on.
I miss the city, the roofs, the possibilities to move unseen and dance gracefully through the shadows.

//New posts follow once I finish writing them. Comments, critique and corrections highly welcome.

[Aphel]

~The second thread~
The tiger was still roasting over the fire, and Aden cut a piece of the grilled meat of and ate. His neck hurt, his feet were worse and he still could feel the deep wound the tiger's claws had dug into his left arm. He could be lucky to be alive.
Aden sighed and started to eat. The other adventurers already left, leaving him alone at the campfire in Fort Wayfare. The circus show was still going on in the big main tent, but the elf didn't care. He needed sleep. It felt strange to eat the animal that wanted to kill him earlier, but with salt and herbs it tasted alright and why should one let so much meat go to waste? And he was hungry, hungrier than ever before.

Later, when he locked the inn room door carefully behind him, he was already half asleep and dreaming of tigers in the forest appearing out of nowhere while he was covered in white paint, unable to hide -

It started with Breanna, an elf he met on the path to Fort Wayfare. A little bit chit-chat, a little bit talk about the Al'Noth. Maybe she tried to convince me taking up studies to become a spellweaver, but she seemed nice. Made a comment about my eyes, and I found it odd. Nobody ever commented on my eyes, and it made me feel strangely vulnerable. I couldn't hide here, not in the forest. It didn't open itself to me, was nothing but a chaotic whirl of creation, live, death, and recreation. It hurt to be not part of it as I was before in Prantz before its heart was poisoned and eventually died. I felt exposed, way to exposed, and after we parted ways I spent my time wandering around, trying to melt into the forest. I found a wild bee hive, something I hadn't seen before, and studied it for quite a while. Bees are interesting, much more so as I understood that they were completely oblivious to me being there. They simply didn't care, busy with serving her queen. All the information they exchanged was simply to ensure the continuity of this kinds existance. I found a few maple trees and other things, studied nature for days, always close to the small city of Center without anyone paying attention to me. Are they oblivious for the breathing nature that surrounds them, hiding so much deeper wisdom and knowledge? I refrained from doing odd jobs for the townsfolk, I don't like clearing out cellars or roaming around in crypts. The crypt was quite a challenge, I couldn't  remain undetected and had to flee from these skeletons. I think I forgot to have fear when I explored the dark rooms and hallways, it was more of a throbbing curiosity mixed with excitement. Typical adventurer lust for fame, fortune and reputation among gravediggers.

And then I stumbled over this circus matter in Fort Wayfare when I explored the areas around it, seeking out all the places where threats lingered, some way to close to Center for my taste.
The adventurers in Fort Wayfare were a colorful bunch, of course hired to protect the circus from thieves and other so called riff-raff. I found myself agreeing to the protection contract, and nobody cared a bit. I bet on that day I missed out on a lot of interesting stories by not talking to them and simply observing what they, the crowd and the people from the circus were doing.

The dwarf was doing the right thing, he patrolled the area. The druid was busy with trying to talk or buy the only lion the circus had so it would be in freedom instead of a way to small cage. Maybe I should have picked the lock after everything was over, a little gift for the druid, but I doubt she would have thought about why I did it, or the consequences. She was oblivious to things, it seemed, pressing forward her own ideology. Maybe that's the same with the radicals of my kin that murder and burn whole woodworker camps because they chop down the trees.

The seaelf, her name was Elenwe, sat by the Lake and didn't do much. Two Rofireinites watched the kids and did the thing they are good at, remaining friendly and being good. Then there was a strange man with an iron arm, a spellweaver. Then the usual charmer, some mysterious man with a strange hat, and a goblin called Daecon. He was the most interesting person of all, being able not to simply get killed and being quite smart, his appearance was a curious one. He served the Longstrider, so I overheard, and was a ranger.
All in all, a group of individual people, all very competent it seemed, but apart only the dwarf Naldin and I patrolled around. The druid found out that a member of the circus was missing, a person called Vao, who had been caring about the animals and went off to find a partner for the lion. We split up, and I joined the search party, mainly because Elenwe and Daecon did too. We sneaked around in the forest, and I was useless and not very silent at all. I tried to understand how Naldin and Daecon managed to remain so silent, which paths they chose and how they followed the trace. I have much to learn, if I ever want to be at home in the woods. Or at least survive there. They had the air of someone who is in tune with the forest, just as I was in tune with the city. In the fights I stayed back, but one of the tigers broke through and nearly killed me, if Armand hadn't been close by. Vao was dead, killed by the tigers, and we carried his remains back to the circus in Fort Wayfare. There we learned that the circus had been ambushed.
The thieves had used to oldest trick in the book to steal the circus' whole gold: lure the remaining adventurers together in one place, then strike quickly. If I had stayed...

We tracked the bandits down and brought the gold back, got our share and parted ways. I never understood why people always fell for the oldest tricks, and I am sure that I will too one day. But why in the name of common sense keep all the gold in one place, instead of hiding it in multiple? Why starting to bargain for a new contract, holding everyone back in the talk and giving the bandits more time to escape?

They were interesting, indeed. I learned a few things, failed shamefully at what I do best but understood that I better work alone for the time being.
I need to meet Daecon and Elenwe again, even if it's solely for the desperate try to find out how they became who they are. Should I open my mouth more, or shouldn't I? But who cares what the stranger says, the silent one. Nobody. Ever.

It's cold here. And lonely. And foreign. I want to dance again, but I can't even understand the melody. Who needs acrobatics and stealth when there are dangerous creatures around, threatening civilisation? Who needs the advice of a stranger, when they can do everything better themselves?

And if that smart town crier ever taunts me again with that song, I'm gonna throw him in the lake for being a hypocrite, no matter how right he is.

[Aphel]

~The third thread~
The copper dagger's blade bled in the candlelight, and Aden hesitated for a moment before putting his other dagger beside it. The scabbards needed cleaning and a few drops of oil.
When he bought these daggers, he'd thought to use them solely as everyday tools to cut ropes or bread. This evening, he bought a copper short sword shortly before the trader closed his shop. Crickets sang outside, and he had taken his usual precautions he learned in Prantz: keeping a low profile, securing a perimeter to the best of his ability.
But apart from staying out of sight, he had no defense against magic or miracles of any kind. Steps in the hallway?
Aden listened into the night. Nothing. Crickets and the sound of water flowing its usual way. His mind was focused, calm.

He had learned to fight in Prantz gloomy sidestreets and in Master Llendir's hall. He avoided fighting back then, but this was different now. The few days he spent with the adventurers had been enough of a lecture, and now he found himself cleaning weapons, fearing steps in the darkness. Breanna was right, of course – he should avoid danger and try to stay safe, a lesson from Prantz he'd thought unforgettable. He stayed out of the local politics, did not meddle with other people's business too much.
And now this.
She had been an odd sight, her demeanor cold and arrogant, tell-tale lights of someone that was likely to cause trouble. Black hair and pale, almost too perfect skin. Unfriendly, too; spat out arrogant sentences people like her liked as he watched and passed by on his way to the trader. When he came back, she talked with a big hairy man near the big tree and shouted that all should burn. Tell-tale lights that he should have killed her right there and then. She kneeled down and started to pray to Pyrtechon. Yes, it was his fault. He could have made it quick, end it right there and then, the dagger into the neck near the spine -
but he didn't. And now he didn't know why he hadn't.
She walked away, he didn't even follow her how he should have, gathering information then passing it on to the Rofireinites or someone in charge around here.
He didn't.
He waited until she had disappeared, then informed Breanna who was, as expected, in the shop in Fort Wayfare. Shared the piece of information. Send word to the Rofireinites. Stayed on the lookout.
Nothing.
She didn't return.
He looked around in Port Hempstead, looked on the roads. Nothing.
She was gone.

Aden stood up without making a sound, slid the first dagger back in the scabbard on the small of his back. The other one went into the scabbard at his right thigh. He picked the short sword up, tested the short bow's string. Twenty-five arrows in the quiver. Good. He rested and left the inn early at dawn.

[Aphel]

~The fourth thread~

“Good dog!”
He ruffled the dog's neck.
“Suppose you didn't see a black haired female crazy person?”
The dog blinked and whimpered. Aden smiled. Druids could talk with animals, he had heard about it. Saw hints of it, too, at the circus. He couldn't, but he liked dogs. They were domesticated wolves, tamed, corrupted by civilization just as him. They had buried the wild deep inside.
“Figured as much.”
He liked dogs, even they had been enemies in his Prantz days. He couldn't really hate them for their loyalty or for the times they had chased him barking loudly because he had made a wrong step. No. They protected their pack, or thought so at least. Most fat merchants were master puppeteers, that's how they piled up their wealth without really doing all the hard work. He wasn't really a bad person because he took away what wasn't theirs, and often it just had been a souvenir. Or a small note with an elvish rhyme, mocking the merchant to at least change the locks to his daughter's bedroom. He never did anything, it was a challenge to get inside and outside undetected. And he enjoyed see them panic because they forgot that there is always more than one way inside, always more than one way to threaten their profits. And sometimes, it was just a friendly reminder to those too naïve to realize what kind of world they were living in.
Dogs, dogs were just like guards. They worked on the other side.
He had to smile, it was reassuring to see something so familiar far away from the stench of civilization’s breeding pools. It was the first encounter out here, near Lake Splendor, that hadn't ended with either side either sneaking past the other (mostly him), running away (mostly him, too) or making the other side bleed (mostly the others).
It had been Storold Doesscha, an impressive man and scholar, who pointed him towards Master Enzo and Lady Ferrit, but so far, the way to Silkwood had been to dangerous for him and Lady Ferrit wasn't present when he'd visited her shop in Port Hempstead.
He had spread the word of the encounter with the Pyrtechon priestess, had given descriptions and so on, but she didn't cross his paths again. What a joke – and he wanted to be a good spy?
Knight Protector Daniel Benjamin Poetr had been right – in these days, the people need heroes. They expected well-educated and highly trained elvish warriors, not shady and useless riff-raff.

Aden smiled as the dog trotted away and ran with his pack. He had still a lot to learn. And something to hunt.

[Aphel]

~The fifth thread~

Last year's brittle, damp leaves crumbled beneath his boots with a soft  treacherous rustle. His quiver was almost empty, his backpack already heavy with all the various plant samples he collected. Rain started to seep through the seam at his collar, dripped from the edge of the hood into his eyes. He shivered. It was cold.
The gnolls didn't mind, of course. They sniffed in the air, growled at each other. Aden glanced at the axes and shields in their hands, didn't move – he suspected that the gnoll with the face markings was some sort of shaman or their leader. If he wanted to survive the fight, he had to kill him first and then run.
He had encountered gnolls before when he was collecting mushrooms and did some scouting to accustom himself with the wilds (that was, before he got utterly lost). He knew that he would not stand a chance; the string of his bow was wet and so was the bow. The leader cowled into Aden's direction; some of the red face paint washed away from the rain dripped down from his flews and growled. Every muscle in Aden's body tensed, ready to jump and strike as cats do. He forced himself to breathe in the way that he learned in Prantz.
He could take down one of them if he had luck with throwing.
He could hold them off for a while with the quick, half-crouched stance he learned in the backalleys. But then they possibly still had a shaman, and only the Longstrider knew what kinds of spells he could weave.
“Let's get it over with.” Aden clenched his teeth. “Come on you ugly dog, come on over here...”
And as if the gnoll could read Aden's thoughts, he make a small step forward and growled.

Last year's brittle, damp leaves crumbled beneath his boots with a soft  treacherous rustle. His quiver was almost empty, his backpack already heavy with all the various plant samples he collected. Rain started to seep through the seam at his collar, dripped from the edge of the hood into his eyes. Elderberry juice made his fingertips slippery, but he didn't mind. Plucked another handful and collected them in a small wooden box so they hopefully survived the transport to Port Hempstead. The Lake was beautiful, even now. A grey, dull mirror covered in the ripples of wind and the small circular waves raindrops cause. If he hadn't spent so much time haggling in Center, he would work in sunshine instead.
Aden noticed that the box was full, closed it carefully and put it into his backpack. While he walked, the sky started to clear up slowly; the more the closer he came to Hempstead. He pushed his hood back, shook some raindrops from his hear and started to eat the surplus Elderberries carefully, trying out their taste. Maybe this time somebody of the Angel's Guild was around at their shop. If not, he would look around at the market hall for a buyer.
He needed a few things, apart from a regular income. A new coat to being with. His old one was in a terrible state. He knew which one would be useful to him, he wanted one ever since he roamed the streets of Prantz and first heard of it. Maybe they had it on the shelves. Maybe they even had a job for him. His guts told him that there were to many maybes involved, and the maybes and he had a difficult relationship.
Aden tucked at his old coat and smiled. The coat has followed him over the ocean and through quite some trouble. It was time for a new one, that was obvious even by simply looking at it. Maybe that was why Brisbane gave him the other one. But he couldn't wear it. She had told him that it would protect him from unwanted attention. A cloak of Az'atta.
He wore it one time.
And felt that it was wrong.
He simply couldn't use it. It was a gift. So many gifts. But what had he ever given back? The only real thing he could do was to stay out of sight and gain information that others couldn't. But that was worth nothing. Not in these times.
Storold's tale and the people attending, those listening to his words by the fireplace – they where old. Experienced. Fought in wars, whereas he had only cowered in the shadows, afraid and undecided. Set things into motion, while only he had been in motion and running away had been the most of it. Tried not to get into too much trouble in the past, when getting into trouble was what they did.
He sighed and carefully opened to door to the shop.
Came out later, a new coat around his shoulders. He waited until nightfall, hid his pack at the vault. Waited for the guard to pass. Climbed. Easy. Made some noise, just to see what happens. The guard didn't even look up. Good. Aden grinned. Upwards. Sat on the roof for a single moment, like a cat. The guard passed right beneath him. He waited. Took a deep breath, all his muscles tensed. Spread his arms and jumped.
“Hey! Guards! Guards!”
He ran, grinning broadly.

And a few hours later, he was on his way back to Center. He needed more resources, if he wanted to be of any use at all – bandages, arrows, maybe a new short sword after giving his old one away. A new bow, one with longer range. He needed to practice archery again. And practice it a lot.
He sighed, went to the trader and bought parchment, quill and ink to write a letter.


He watched the gnolls walk away, looking for their enemies elsewhere and slowly relaxed. Good. Seemed like he was getting better at this. Last time, in the cave near the beach, he had performed horribly and two new scars had been his reward. He took a deep breath and waited for a long time before continuing his travel. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, but it didn't feel that awkward any longer. He was losing his fear of the wild and its creatures, started to better understand their behavior. They were like the cityfolk, most of the time, behaved in similar patterns of resource allocation, aggression and finding niches to survive in.
And the rain wasn't so bad anymore.

[Aphel]

~The sixth thread~

Hence, there where new unspoken unspeakable words in his head now. New, unwoven filaments oscillating with yet unheard sounds; resonating with every small step, every smallest possible moment in time passing into infinity – indescribable, inaudible symphony.
Salty wind in his face, fine cold mist pushed inland. Her scent and her gentle touch still lingered with him, imprinted into the fabric of his self, glowing as if the corona of thousand blacked out suns had been woven into a filigree above his heart.
He bought a few things, made his way past bartering traders with dubious glints in their eyes. Looked around without doing so, gathering information, impressions, the occasional insight. Just followed the vibrant music all around that so few noticed at all, danced with the streets and felt that all was coming back, an avalanche of memories.
He wanted to be with her, now -

The city's silhouette was a small gray dot in the distance and the road indistinguishable from the land. He tried to remain silent, to not disturb the natural order of things out here. Tried to get all the names of the animals he could stop right, cowering wand studying his surrounding: the scent in the air, the leaves and the fragile wood soil, hearing the birds song in the bushes, bright red berries in the underbrush's twilight. He smiled subtly and waited before he moved on.

She loved the smell, she had said. It was terrible to think of her and not be able to hold her again soon, hear her voice -
But all things come for the cost of sacrifice. From which book was that? He couldn't quite remember. If only she would have been here. She would know, most likely.

He found some comfrey and took a sample with him. It had a strange smell to it when it was fresh. He wondered for what it could be used. Would she have any use for it? Maybe as a reagent? He remembered that Elora mentioned it to him the last time he visited her.
He found a few other herbs he didn't know and carefully took samples, then walked on.

He climbed on a tree to sleep. It was cold and miserable. He wrapped his coat around himself and stared out into the night. He still heard her laughter, felt her touch. Imagined her face in the dark.
Bre-an-na.
Even her name had this...melody to it, if it wasn't spoken. A little bit similar to the nights under a clear night sky in his youth. A little like  the dances he had late at night with the streets and the roofs.
But different in a way he could not describe. Different in a way that made him tremble, made him lose words and thoughts.

The Longstrider must have sent you.
He wasn't so sure of that, but it did not matter. The few hours with her, always hidden, always scared that the trouble she was in might reach out to him -
But he couldn't see her like this. No. Maybe he should enroll as a scholar. Maybe. The thought of hiding and fooling around with the Al'Noth to be around her made smile all of a sudden. He wanted to be her shadow – something she could step back into, be embraced by and find a place of cooling serenity in the heat of trouble.
Aden looked at his hands and remembered how he followed the unsteady rhythm of the shadows through the pirates' hideout. The wish, the urge to simply step into the shadow, melt with it and dance along the filaments of shadows, light and matter – it had been just as strong as the urge to be close to her now.
He had thought she had gone missing back then.
He hat remembered his promise to her – and would have broken it to bring her back. At any cost.
If the Longstrider really had sent her, made their paths cross in such a fashion, then what did he want of him? That he should finally pull himself together and do the right thing?
Bre-an-na. Where are you now? What are you doing, thinking? It hurts not to be with you.


The road led on. Rain, fog, shadows, odd silhouettes in the distance. He felt wet and cold, but he also felt, heard the land's song. Its melody. Felt resonance, felt dissonance and listened closely.
What are you telling me?


“Thanks for the comfrey.” Elora smiled. “Don't hesitate to ask if you need something.”
Aden nodded.
“I need some bandages, if you have some spare...”

He packed a small box with bandages and stored it away. The war was on his mind, the danger, the trouble. Her words, voice – and the promise he made not to let it show what he felt for her unless they were alone. The promise not to be seen together.
He came across a few trees a recent storm must have felled. Took his dagger, peeled of the bark. No bugs had claimed the trees' carcass yet. Good. He went back to town, got himself a few tools and started to chop the tree. Part of it he could give to the community of center to burn. Part of it...well, there was a workshop he could use. He needed to keep his hands busy.
Busy hands, busy mind.
Busy mind, not thinking about...

Bre-an-na.
The sound that woodpeckers made, it sounded like laughter.

[Aphel]

~The seventh thread~

Black toes softly turning in the wind, south, southsoutheast, south, southsouthwest -
The stands for the well-educated, well-fed and well-known had disappeared. Just a row of well-groomed gallows remained, with ravens blowing their feathers dry in the wind.

the realms may now breathe easier knowing that such a vile criminal no longer plagues the lands, and that his men may find just & fair administration under the law of Mistone

He had brought them here, to find their death in the hands of the law. And what about the choking, the fear, the embarrassment? All of these men would have been better off if they died in combat, quickly and without feeling much pain in the heat of battle.
And why didn't they put them to work somewhere? There were enough things to do, mines to fill to bulge their coffers. He turned around and walked away.
And justice to our terms...
He left the place as quickly as he could, its melody distorted, its shadows odd-angled and quiet. The aftermath of adventurers passing through town. And him? He felt the strong urge just to melt with the shadows and flee this place. Be in her arms again. Kiss and hold her close, and not tell her about it.


There was melody and shadows everywhere, even if they tried to hide it. He had visited Vehl and the Temple of Rofirein; and while former had plenty of shadows and the usual shady business, latter tried hard to muffle the shadows in the temple with light.
Where there is matter and light, there is shadow. He had been a shadow in many places, studying them and their inhabitants as best as he could, studying their songs and shadows and how to hide. He felt disappearing time and time again. Being unseen without him noticing it, as if it was a given. Breanna had been right.
Just don't disappear.
But he was. Spirit Dunes, Silkwood, Caves and other odd things. He should start writing some threat assessments, or something else. Something more useful than practicing.

So he bought himself new weapons, a tanto and a wakizashi, simply because the design interested him as he saw them in a harbor shop. Mundane things, both of them, the trader reassured. Never been used. Sure.
He cleaned them, let them check, trained with them and decided to keep them. Oiled them and the scabbards, made their blades not reflective in light using oil and ash. Waited. Head off for the wilds. Adjusted their scabbards so he could wear them close to his body, easily drawn and in a way that wouldn't make trouble when he was moving very agile, climbing, sneaking and jumping. Bought himself a few throwing daggers, too; and head out into the wilds.

The Ire mountains were interesting, he walked around until he found the wolf pack again, watched them, sneaked around to test if he was becoming better. He was.
He spent days walking around, watching the landscape, exploring caves and picking plants. Trained to be silent outside. Studied hunting techniques.
And in the evenings, he meditated trying to get in touch with the Longstrider, hoping for answers on the big whys in his life. He looked into Breanna's mirror only to see his own eyes, his own face. And it looked strange.



He eyed the harbor and pushed his hood up against the rain. Mariner's Hold. He had been here before. An auction, they said.
Aden smiled slightly.

Time for some opening moves.

[Aphel]

~The eighth thread~

He peeked out, his nose just above the murky and stinking water, and glanced around. Raelites over there. Still not moving. He tried to remember any features of the woman's ship, but it had been too generic.
He swam on, gave the thought of letting the Raelite slipping into the water – it might be easy, drop them backwards and disappear – some room in his head to quench the burning anger.

He had been stupid. The woman escaped. He had to warn Jillian, at least. You're alive, that's all that matters.
You made good use of your skills, but you failed.
Try again, loser.

Making his way to the Inn, he tried to smile. At least he hadn't failed completely – and survived. Pure luck. Nothing more.

He needed to have a talk with Reid later. Much later.


Slept in the cold. Thought of her. Felt miserable. Needed to hold her. Needed to talk with her – and calmed down, slowly, looking into her mirror, then slowly caressing its edges in thought.

He closed the door behind him with the thought that she was gone. Where to? He wanted to see her again. The shadows sang, and he felt mute, stupid, limp. Diving into the crowd, he made himself disappear the best he could for a while.

[Aphel]

~The ninth thread~

A longing kiss and a sad goodbye -- touches, sweet and soft and desperate. He tried his best to sooth her pain, but time was running out. He knew. He could feel it rushing through his fingers, see it fleeing in every shadow dancing in the light of torches.
He studied the Inn's room for a moment after closing the door behind him. More than one facade to maintain. Warnings, messages. No traps so far. Good.
He closed the blinds, blew out the candle and listened to the song of the night. Put a chair near the door and jammed it with a throwing knife, switched his clothes, prepared the bed for a distraction, and climbed silently onto the heavy closet.
Time to sleep.
Time for dreams and becoming one with the sounds and shrouding oneself into the silk cloak woven from threads of shadow.

[Aphel]

A letter to Breanna

Dearest Bre,

This is the fourth letter I write you as I cannot find the right words to apologize, nor to describe or make real what is in my heart. It is dark now, and I have the stars above me. Do you remember the stars in the mountains, by the campfire? I wished I could have shown you my affection there, hold you; just as much as I miss you now. I have found myself a spot where I can write without being bothered by the other soldiers. I know that all of them write home now, to their families, their loved ones. It is silent in the tent now, I can hear quills moving over parchment and the occasional dumb joke. It is the calm after the storm.

The City has fallen.
The Monster Undrok is dead.

The blood rushing through me is now tainted with the lust of war, Breanna. I have seen and done things indescribable, shed blood and payed for it. Have felt powerlessness, have felt weakness and horror, all mixed with the rush of the blood and the hunt. I have never seen such carnage before, and never I will again. My hands tremble, I can't even hold my bow steady.
Before the utmost brutality of this conflict, everything apart from you falls to pieces. There was no song in the shadows or in the streets, just blood, wounded, corpses.
Will you, when I come back, hold me? Will you hold me, despite the smell of fire, of death and blood that I cannot ever wash away? Tonight, I will howl to praise the Longstrider that I passed his trials, that I made it out of this pit. I will howl for the spirits of the dead, will howl to the moons to not hide their faces from this place. And I will howl to ask for your forgiveness dearest, for I broke my word and my heart.
Tomorrow, I will return to the place and tend to the wounded, help cleaning up, help writing letters home. I owe it to them that I deliver a few of them by my own, yet I dare not to ask such thing from the Commanders.
This City and its surroundings will remain a wound in the heart of the people and the landscape for some time. And it is not done yet. The land must be secured, rebuild. Many, so many wounds to tend to. It is not the first time that I gave the thought of devoting my life to the Lifegiver room in my head. Yet how can I heal with those hands, if they urge to hunt and to protect a pack? How can I step away from the task to find out what this strange thing is which has beset me?

I will try to sleep now, this letter will leave the camp via falcon tomorrow. I will keep it close to me at night, in my cloak, and sleep under the stars so they may look down upon me and judge my worth. I can see your face, Breanna; your emerald eyes so filled with something I cannot comprehend or possibly deserve. My skin, my lips long for your gentle touches and my spirits burns with the desire to be with you again.  You are so far away, even when you are close sometimes.
Do you remember the stars in the mountains, by the campfire? I wanted to hold you. I wanted to hold you when you where exhausted, give you some of my energy somehow. I wanted to mourn loudly when you where dead, but I couldn't give us away, so I closed myself, cracks all over me now for this mistake. I hoped that I could be with you once all was over. But I had to go, like you.
I will try to sleep now, Breanna. Maybe I can't, unable to wash the screams and the pictures out of my head. I wish you would be here, whispering softly soothing words in my ear. But you aren't, but you aren't. I will get up, get my bow and make silent rounds, helping the guards to secure the camp.

In love,
~Aden

[Aphel]

Yesterday's dreams

It was still night, the heavy and sweet stench of burning oil, pitch and dead with the color of gray wax. He stood in a wasteland made of broken buildings, weapons, lives, lies, siege engines, arcane devices and the orange light of raging fires in the distance. Breathing was hard; the only thing he could hear was the eerie sound of flags and banners fluttering in the wind.

He struggled to free his feet; exhaustion and pain burning in his muscles, his hands, his body sore and screaming for rest.
A howling in the distance, sound of shuffling paws. His knuckles became white as he clenched his fist around his longbow's worn grip, glanced around, his heart pounding loud in his ears as he felt the gentle and familiar sensation of feathers stroking over his fingertips as he readied an arrow.

The Shadows before him accumulated, spun into strands and forms and shapes; vague at first but soon gaining a solid shape. At first, it was a giant wolves head, gray and old but still strength and a packleader's wisdom in his eyes, strands of shadow like a mask adorning him. The rest of the body followed. It bared its fangs.

Get on your feet, pup. The pack needs you.

Aden climbed through the rubble towards the wolf, steadying himself with one hand as the rubble rumbled down with every step he took. His shoulders hurt as if on fire.
The wolf bared his teeth again, as if he grinned.

Stay behind me and watch the skies. Let's go.

He tried to keep up with the wolf as he ran through the ruins, sounds of wings everywhere. He looked up and saw a giant silhouette sweeping down towards him, claws first. He heard a scream, smelled the stench of the creature as it passed by him and picked something up, broke the fragile female body with ease and let it drop before turning and returning.
He was alone, all of a sudden, slipped and fell hard.
His fingers fumbled for another arrow, he forget to aim and just shot. It  just bounced off the beast's body.
Claws, dirty and sharp and blood rushed towards him.
A howl.
A flying shadow.
The two creatures clashed.

ON YOUR FEET! YOU ARE OF NO USE HERE, PUP, SO DO WHAT YOU CAN!

Aden jumped on his feet, behold silhouettes in the distance. Closing in fast. He reached for his quiver and let the arrows fly.
Fire.
Al'Noth discharging, lashing out in the distance.
Blinding light for a moment.
Arms, raised into the pitch black sky as the arrow hit and made the silhouette fall backwards, screaming in agony for a moment.

FIGHT, PUP, FIGHT!

He looked over his shoulder, and instead of the two giants fighting he behold cities, behold gardens, woods, bathed into the sunlight and boredom of everyday life.
Aden reached for another arrow.


As the day dawned, filling the dark with a lighter shade of gray, Aden stumbled up the pile of rubble and dust unable to use his bow any longer. The creature was dead, and the wolf stood near the body of the woman.
Aden's heart stopped to beat as he rushed forwards, fell to his knees and wept. Breanna's skin was cold, her eyes staring into another realm -
He heard what she never would be able to say, heard the laughter of children and her worried words for them -



Aden woke with a muffled scream, his lungs aching he gasped for air

Find me, pup. You will be one of my teeth, one of my fangs and I will watch you both -

"Oh, look, Skinny is awake. Skinny don't like the big bad cultists, does he? Can't sleep at night?"
The old soldier grinned, showing a row of decaying teeth. Some where missing, and the stench of beer was so bad Aden nearly had to vomit.

"Get lost."

The man stared at him for a moment as if confused and then staggered away. Aden reached for his canteen, drank and got up, turning his head to overlook the wasteland around the fallen city.
Work awaited, and the sun wasn't so hot in the mornings.


//If the wolf was Folian S'pae talking to Aden, I let the GM decide. For now, it is just the dream of a stressed soldier.

[Aphel]

~The tenth thread~

The water was cold, but he needed to clean himself and his armor nevertheless. Incredible how much dirt he had collected in his armor during his time in Briardusk -- it took him quite a while only to get the armor clean, and he hadn't even started with the rest of his gear.

He needed to be clean just so he wouldn't be thrown out of the inns right away when he wanted to rent a room. Most of his wounds hadn't healed yet, his skin was still sore and screamed out as he started to clean it with cold water and alcohol, then applied some slave.
He even bought new boots, his old ones were falling apart. The wind was cold, unfriendly. Weather change, maybe.

Numbness was all he felt, still. And she hadn't written back, maybe she simply hadn't had the time yet. He was patient. He could wait. There were other, equally pressing matters he had to focus on.
Sadia.
A proper work. He needed the latter to have the resources to deal with former, however former would get in the way with latter.
He needed to do some preparations. Precautions.

He needed arrows. A hidden place to sleep, caches, prearranged transport. He needed wards, emergency plans, safe communications.

Aden put his armor back on, cleaned the rest of his armor and left the place after covering his tracks and all the signs of his present here.
The shadows engulfed him as he climbed up, rain pouring down. The Shadows sung for him, the rain, the rock and his heart.
And when he reached the mountain top, he throw his head back, grinned and  howled to honor Folian.
It felt feral.
It felt good.

[Aphel]

~The eleventh thread~

He thanked the Longstrider silently and hold her in his arms.
Folian's Vale was nearly asleep now, but he could hear the soft sound of the guard's leather boots moving around in the night. He couldn't quite see them, but he knew they where there to watch over them.
They found a place close to the temple of Aeridin, a platform build between the branches of a tree. It wasn't much, but at least it provided a little bit of privacy and security. That was all they needed for now.

He could hear her soft breathing, starlight illuminating the platform and her face. It was peaceful, freed from fear and sorrow and all worry. A place under the stars. Aden smiled softly, half awake, and the feeling of her warmth and her the scent of her gave him all the comfort he needed.

They had whispered for a bit, before falling into trance in each others arms. It was pure luxury, and he thanked Folian for weaving their fates together. And for letting Quantum cross their path, carrying Toran's light with him and showing them the way for a brief moment in fleeting time. He would keep his word and protect them both. And not only him.

A shroud woven from starlit twilight and the tree's silhouette covered them both, and Aden smiled.

Great Wolf, I thank you. Help me learn to become the hunter from shadows so that I may protect my love, my friends, my pack; so that I may walk among the shadows to strike the enemies of the balance, the enemies of life and the enemies of my pack with quick precision. May my heart never harden or succumb to arrogance, greed, decadence and darkness. Protect me and my love from death and enslavement of both body and mind, and teach me so that I may become one of your fangs to protect the all-pack.

In the distance, a wolf howled and Aden finally fell into a deeper trance, dreams spun into his head unraveled and took his spirit with them for a while.

[Aphel]

~The twelfth thread~

The hinges that had been quite a challenge when he entered warned them and possibly saved his life. His heart stopped for a split of a blink as the door was opened and shut sharply.
"Hide!" Her whisper and the widened eyes told of her panic and he just bow his head slightly in silence and made a step back so he wouldn't be seen once she opened the door. She hurried outside and closed the door behind her silently.

His heart was beating, blood rushing in his ears. He slowly pulled his dagger out of the oiled scabbard on the small of his back, the familiar rough grip cold and calming against his palm.

Breathe.
Focus.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and moved his shoulders subtly to avoid being to tense.

Relax.

No good spot to hide here, so he just positioned himself better so he wouldn't be seen immediately when the door was opened. He couldn't hear what happened. Or if somebody was sneaking towards her room.

Breathe. He flexed his fingers and waited in the shadows. Nothing in here was to his favor. He could use the flowers for a distraction, but he had no yarn with him. And she wouldn't like the mess on her carpet anyway.

Come on, focus and breathe!

He felt the shadows shrouding him, as he breathed how the human has taught him when he was a boy. He relaxed, his mind was losing the fear and the panic.
Time passed, Aden measured it in slow breaths. He tried to remember the rooms he passed through, tried to remember all the little things, the details.

Six hundred breaths later he heard steps near the door.
Control.
Don't hold you breath now.
Focus.

The door swung open, Breanna walked in and closed the door behind her, letting out a deep breath.
"Aden?"
He felt her whisper briefly, it sounded good with no pressure or hidden intent. Or force.
"Here."
He moved a little so she could see him and let the dagger disappear again.

She smiled. "There you are. He is ... gone."
Aden's mind added: "for now."

He told her to leave through the main door and used the portal back to Center. This was the easiest way, although he had to lie to her to get away.
Not nice, but he got away and she was in vague safety -- without him around, they would have one little bit less to torture her with.


She sat by the fire and -

He forgot what he wanted to say. Just smiled at her, maybe he was even grinning.

[Aphel]

~The thirteenth thread~

All stones on his way up looked different, but they all were gray from the rain that washed the traces of clay, ash and the unbearable smell of firebeetles from his bruised skin. He barely felt the cold or the stones' sharp edges trying to cut through his boots into his feet. It was a strange full moon night, the shadows silver and the land empty and quiet.

Once he reached the mountain top, he silently walked the last bit of the way to his hideout, paying attention not to be a visible silhouette against the horizon.
Nobody had been near the fallen pine, or at least hadn't left any traces of their presence. He slipped under the camouflaged tarp and quickly got out of his wet clothes, rubbed himself dry with a rough linen cloth and put dry clothes back on.

He found it quite difficult to hide in the wilds, but he was slowly getting better. It took a bit of thinking and experimenting to figure out how to have a fire but hide it's light at the same time. He dug a hole and three small ditches leading to it. The ditches he covered with branches and then the earth he dug out and put on a old sack. He filled part of the ditches with rough stones, enough to hide a lot of the fire's light but still letting it suck sufficient air. He then camouflaged the end of the ditches and the hole for the fire before setting up the tarp, which he also camouflaged. He wasn't quite sure if he had done something like this before on his travels, but the work took half a day.

Dark-red embers on the gravel in the small pit, and Aden put a few small branches of firewood on them. Heated the stew, ate a bowl. Listening to the sounds of the silver shadows outside, the wind in the pine needles, in the underbrush, the shortsword close-by.
Sleeping lightly, dreamless.

The next day he got up early, packed his things and broke down his camp,   destroying the traces of his presence as best as he could. Then he washed in a small stream nearby and returned to Center for work, spent the day digging clay and sand, crafting molds and glass and tried to be a good craftsman. Practiced with the bow and the blades in the evening, moved around in Center and the Wilds to practice stealth and how to move in favor with the terrain.

Rented a room in the Bull's Eye again and read notes and books until he fell asleep. He needed to be prepared, needed to catch up those years he just spend surviving. He needed to use what little knowledge and skill he had acquired over the years to get forward and be ready.
Slept lightly without dreams.

Practiced alchemy and burned a hole in his recipe parchment the next day, observed the other craftsmen in the Hall in Hempstead. Watched deals and politics being made. It was interesting, but most of it he had seen before. It was all the same, it seems, and people did their best to profit from the war.
And Khul was yet to take.

He shrouded himself into the shadows again for a while and watched in silence, practiced and learned.
About a week later, he fled into the land again to collect abundant raw materials and earn some money.

[Aphel]

~The fourteenth thread~

A little bit to top-heavy for his taste, but good enough. Next time he should make a little bit smaller heads or use better wood.
Aden balanced the finished arrow on his left index finger before putting it away into quiver.
“You're getting better, huh?”
The woman smiled at him. He shrugged. She had been watching him for a day or two, her eyes beautiful like the rest of her appearance. And he couldn't escape her, she was sticking to him like a  shadow as long as he was in the craft hall. A watcher either way, eyes  - but for whom?

“Only one way to find out.”
He smiled at her and she smiled back. Well, whatever. He packed his things and cleaned his workbench up before leaving the craft hall. If someone was following him again, that was bad. Really, really bad.

He made his way into the wilderness in the evening, heading towards one of the Longstrider's shrines. Testing the arrows he made against an old, fallen log. Meditated a bit, then booked a passage to Mariner's Hold.

The woman didn't follow him, but others might have. He used a different name and a different robe to travel, used a different demeanor, much more harsh and rough than he usually was. Once the ship had left the harbor, he searched himself a place where he could wrap the shadows around him against curious eyes and daggers in the night, spent the time being an arrogant elf with the air of an adventurer.

It was a good time to think about various things. About the war, about Sadia, about Breanna and the Dark elves he had met. He needed to cover his tracks even better, confuse them, mislead them with contradicting information. Build a net of contacts, informers, shroud himself in multiple masks. He had never done this before, he had always stayed out of sight, out of politics and out of trouble. It had worked mostly.

He asked around which tavern was good and clean with good entertainment, and they told him to go to the Silver Buckle. Maybe he could speak with Andrew again, then, maybe not. It is not like he found him trustworthy, but he might be useful.
And he need to build a small defense against Sadia with him, and it better be a good one after what the bard hinted at their last meeting.

And afterward, he would go to the temple of Aragen to look a few things up, if they would let him. Hm. He could say that he was a traveling craftsman that wanted to learn more about the world.
That would be a possibility.
It wasn't even that far from the truth.

He wrapped himself into the shadows, prayed to the Longstrider in his mind for Breanna's safety and walked out into the harbor at night. He didn't knew if Sadia or the Raelites were still around, and he didn't want to find out the hard way.

[Aphel]

~A quiet conversation~

He nearly gave the old priest a heart attack, raised his hands apologetically and helped the man to pick up all the scrolls and pieces of parchment.
“Thanks, son. You're a really quiet one, eh?”
Aden nodded. “A library is a quiet place. But I didn't mean to startle you, Sir.”
He handed him the parchments back and smiled slightly. The priest nodded
“Thank you. What are you looking for? You don't look like the adventurers we have usually around as visitors.”
Aden shook his head. “I'm a craftsman, and I had some time at hand to read and learn a bit. Might help me in the future, I think.”
“Information is very powerful. What are you looking for?”
“History, Sir.”
“Hm. Can you be more specific?”
“Yes. History of the Deep and everything you have on the Drach Ori. And about Dregar.” He smiled. “I want to know more for the next discussion in the craft hall.”
The old man chuckled softly and signaled the elf to follow him.
“Must have been a human beating you in a discussion, elf.”
Aden hesitated and nodded.
“Yes.”
“You are moving to Dregar?”
He nodded. “Good work needs to be done, once this war is over. I need to prepare for that.”

How ignorant he has been for all these years! He buried himself in books and scrolls and pages of parchment for days, having an occasional conversation with other people. He did make notes into a small book, to remember the important things. These writings were nothing like the stuff he had to read as a child, these were genuine attempts to find and preserve the truth, baring the lyrical air of elvish works.
Of course, these tomes were useless to him if he would not start to listen around for information more, preparing for the eventual clash with  his enemies.
And, as far as he could see it, there was a lot to be done with all this knowledge stored here. Briardusk had been a mistake, one that must be circumvented when pushing towards Khul.
And if Khul falls, Rael might seize the opportunity and expand his territory. He doubted that he ever would see the death of this crafty shorty and the end of his kingdom, but at least he could try to stop him spreading his urban decay all over the place.
Prantz had become a city of dead shadows, a wound in the ever flowing rhythm he grew up with. He could feel it everywhere but in Prantz, it's magic somehow gone, crushed by accurately cut stones and the art of focused minds. They were just as bad as every other kind of extremists, and eventually would have to realize that their path would fail, too. All things must come to an end, if they ever had a beginning.
Only the melody of the Shadows, the ethereal symphony of the world would be eternal; all else was folly.

It rained outside, and he pulled up his hood. The way to Mariner's Hold was long. He would have enough time to shroud himself into the pale shadows of gray and listen to them in silence.

[Aphel]

~The fifteenth thread~

She smiled at him in that special way and whispered softly.
“Are you alright dear?”
He could just smile back. “I am.”

They got off the road and searched themselves a place were they could talk in private, taking care that nobody followed them.
She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. His heart began to beat faster, and he hold her, kissed her lips and breathed her scent.
“I was gone for too long.”
He had been indeed. Being around her was dangerous, but that only added to his desire to be close to her. She was so sweet, so ... everything, and he wished the could stay in her arms forever. He told her what he had been up to lately, and then let her talk.
She told him that Nym might suspect their relationship, Aden didn't answer. He hold her, caressing her neck and shoulders. If either Nym or Duchess found out, they would be in terrible danger.
It was hard to be separated from her, to pretend that they don't know each other. He told her that no matter what happened, she could not betray him.
He said naive, stupid things, but some of it he meant like he spoke them.  But he wasn't sure if she understood. They would find out either way on a day Aden didn't know, and they would use it against them, would use him to hurt her or the other way around. But no matter what would happen, she could not betray him. Not even if she told them about him. He could not talk sense into her about that, maybe he was just bad with words. She told others about him and her, and would not disclose it. This was all very messy. He hold her and kissed her, because sometimes things just were that complicated and difficult. He would find a way, eventually, how they could both be together and safe, having a house somewhere, maybe children – simply a more secure life, one which they could use how they pleased instead of being forced to run, hide, move and survive.

Trials. Yes, trials to be survived and learned from. They needed a few things, secure hideouts, caches, a way to communicate, a secret language and codes how to escape when things got rough. And they were bound to get rough eventually, how much time they had was just determined by how good they were at hiding and shadow-play.
She introduced him to Midnight, her familiar. The panther seemed to accept him enough not to eat him right away.
She departed with a spell, and he stepped back into the shadows and made his way to Center, careful not to attract watchers and hoped his attempts at hiding his traces was enough to give him a slight headstart.

He had been stupid, of course. No way to tell what might happen if someone has seen them, despite their precautions. He had a quick look at the prison where Steel had been incarcerated. Something else to look into. He had a hunch, but no way to be sure. He would ask around later, when times were more suitable.


The next day, he got up early and made a short run through the wood to improve his stamina. It also helped him with his thinking, and the cold wind made the shadows of leaves treacherous and jumping around all the time. The sun was shining, but it wasn't hot. He tried to move along with the rhythm of the wood and the shadows, birdsong in the air.

Standing on the trunk of a fallen tree on one feet only, the other lifted up – balance practice. The key was not to move too much at all, letting the shadows and the world move instead. The patient hunter gets the prey.
And if he was too patient, the window of opportunity would be closed shut forever.
There were so many different way to look at it and solve the problem, so many arguments to have over who was right and wrong in which aspect that he really didn't care. He was a creature made of matter in this world, and he would walk around in the dark and in the light always followed by a shadow. He would protect his pack, maintain a frail balance, some sort of conflicted equilibrium that made survival possible.
And the rest he left to the scholars and thinkers. Right now, it was necessary to use the skills and gifts one had to get out of this mess and into another one. Preferably one in which he did not have to worry about dark elves and things like lies, hate, betrayal and revenge.

There was no point in this conflict. He wished he could show Breanna how he saw the world, maybe he needed to dance for her, dance like a shadow in flickering candlelight. He could do that, but maybe she still would not understand.
How could he, a child of more than one world, teach her something anyway? If he could quote words of wise men from the top of his head, if he had divine revelations like others had, maybe this would be easier.
His shadow twisted as he made his way through the wood unseen and silent, picking up a few feathers and herbs. He was his shadow, and his shadow was him. He did not doubt that there were creatures that were just shadow, but that was a different issue. Shadows were the fleeting children of light and matter, sometimes showing the truth, sometimes confusing the senses.
All in all they were just like what gave birth to them in the first place. Like everything else - and like shadows, ignorance made people oversee the most interesting and beautiful things in their short lives.

[Aphel]

~The sixteenth thread~

He brushed the hickory swarf from his sleeve and ignored someone two workbenches away trying to crack a supposedly funny elf joke. It wasn't even a good one, and Aden didn't want to enlighten the man about good jokes about elves. There was work to do, a lot of work; he rummaged through his tool bag until he found the sandpaper. He bought a small bundle of parchments with notes on woodworking, and despite his tries he failed on making his own sandpaper. Maybe he would try that again later, he already had all the saw dust he would ever need to supply a library with parchment for the next few years.

He sighed and started to balance the arrows carefully, putting those aside that were so difficult to balance that he could use those as wasters for practice. There was a different method to fix arrowheads, and he also wanted to try new arrowheads.
So much work to do, so little time. And afterward there was the question what would be the arrows' targets.
Animals too sick to recover, endangering the other animals near them?
Bandits?
Undead or other abominations?

He had to think about Andrew's song about the Blackwatch. It was not quite what he had expected from the bard, maybe because he seemed to be too settled.
Aden balanced the arrow on his finger and smiled. It was the same old song playing over and over again, but a song that was not the symphony of the world. It was made by mortals and immortals alike; which means he could take part in it too, if he wanted, and would be forced to sing along if he didn't want to -
He could serve as a spy, scout, whatever in the great play, open up his own troupe and play along. Might all be very interesting, but of what use would it be?

Who watches the watchdogs was something that had broken all and every organization with ideals; and he would not be able to stop things like Breanna and him and the dark elves from happening. But the thought was nice. A pack that hunted from the shadows, pulling strings and taking care that the equilibrium was not too much damaged.
The equilibrium of what?

He shook his head and worked on an arrow with sandpaper. He needed to clear his thoughts, then think again. This was not at all the place or time for it. He needed a place to sleep in safety, preferably with Breanna in his arms. She looked so sweet when she slept, and nothing was making him more happy than having her close to him. But it was not going to happen – this night, he would wrap himself in the loneliness that was an anonymous, cold inn bed of average quality.

[Aphel]

~The seventeenth thread~

It was easy enough to slip through the inn unseen, most of the workers focused on the beer mug in front of them or the waitress. Every pickpocket must feel in paradise here, but there was none around as far as Aden could see. It has been payday, and the mood was better than the days before. Even he had earned some true, doing work for SehKy and Fleur. He wondered what he should do with all the true. It wasn't enough to buy a house or one of those enchanted items adventurers fancied, but too much to not spend it. And he could not buy a gift for Bre, either, since that would rise suspicion. Or not. He should inquire some things, first.

When he bolted the door to his room shut, the rain outside had become a storm rattling at the window shutters. He ate something, secured the door and lay down, a dagger under his pillow. But sleep won't come, and he thought about Breanna – where was she now? Was she good, did someone beat her? Did she have to feel miserable right now? Did she tried to sleep, missing him? He thought about Lily and Melody's words. It was wrong, yes it was. On the other hand, it would provide him and Breanna with a good cover. And hurt Lily immensely, something she didn't deserve. It was a backup plan, he needed to find something better than this primitive idea.
Shadow play.
Lighting tore the darkness in his room apart, casting odd shadows all over the room. He sat up, the dagger following him like a puppy dog. He took a deep and silent breath. And another one. And another one.
Sixty-five breaths until he had ordered his thoughts -

And the first thought was about love.
About the love between two or more thinking individuals, the love that one could feel towards a certain craft -
Ilsare's domain was something he could not properly understand, even if that might not be true. He needed to talk with a non-nonsense follower of Her, but that would be a person maybe hard to find at the current moment. If such a person existed, she or he would be busy. Very busy. At least that was what the street had taught him.
And he certainly didn't want to speak with SehKy about women. Or with any other Ilsare, for that matter. Not now. It would not better things with Breanna.
What would better things with her was if he really started to move, to work – and to understand.
First, he had to understand his own self, his desires and so forth.
This would lead to the attempt on understanding the world, however; an impossible task for all he knew. And then he had to make a decision.
Another lightning struck. Thunder. Strange shadows.

What did he desire, then?
Breanna. But he did not want to life a secure live with her, he also wanted to life a fulfilled life. To him, that meant doing good which was not an easy thing to do by itself. It meant that things needed to improve from yesterday to today and into tomorrow, one pebble at a time.  What he really wanted it the power to change things. But power was treacherous, like the shadows of leaves. He had to be careful. He did not want to wake one morning at Breanna's side only to find him head of a vicious thief or assassin guild.
No, there were more important things to do. Knowing things, controlling information meant wielding power, too. This was nothing new, he knew it before. He could become a spy, or a sort of spy. He could found a shadow pack, dedicated to maintaining peace and natural balance. No assassinations, but diplomacy and politics. Seeking out dangers when they arose, gently manipulating people into dealing with it. If Paladins where warriors in shining armor, seeking to root out injustice and other things, the shadow pack was the friendly old man giving advice to the newly wed couple. The courier that delivered a piece of vital information in time. The rogue that observed a group of merchants for a year before blowing the whole slave trader ring apart with a single, elegant stroke. The man that send adventurers to bring him a meaningless magical artifact before somebody could use it in a dark ritual six moons later.
It would be complicated, and maybe it was beyond what mortals could do –

He took a deep breath and shook the thoughts off, closed his eyes.

They left him, and he saw with great clarity for a brief moment as his mind balanced on the fragile edge between nihilistic truth and cynical delusion. The symphony, inaudible but loud as the storm outside.
Lighting cast hard shadows through the room, and he felt the cold slowly crawling into the room.
He felt like a bird flying on the storm and watched, life, death and the shadows without judging. Here, in the shadows, he could watch, wait and heal. Make decisions without being affected by the heat of life. And dance, as he wanted to; swift and elegant, free of sorrow with the sere grace only shadows could have.

He opened his eyes in the morning and felt as if he had slept for days. Dawn's soft light drew shadows through the shutters, and he got up, did his stretching and prepared for a new day.