Andrew's Songbook

[RollinsCat]

She tapped the letter on the table for the fifth time.  Snapped it open to read it, adjusting the silver frame of her spectacles; a smaller version of her youngest son's, not that he ever wore them.  Or would admit he needed to.

She read aloud in her firm, smoky voice, speaking in old Tilmarian and not in common.  "Mrs. Reid, I am very interested in meeting with you as well as your entire family to discuss a lucrative pottery contract..."

"Put it down, dear.  There is no secret meaning in it."  The thin old man spoke in lightly accented common.  He reached easily above the top cabinet in the kitchen, feeling for the box of tea he kept hidden from his daughter's keen eye and keener taste buds.  "By our Muse, did she find it again?!"

She sat back with a small huff that blew her graying hair away from her face.  "He's in trouble."

"Why do you say that?"  He didn't ask who.

"Why gather all of us?  He's not interested in pottery.  He's not interested in the business.  He has been out rabble-rousing - you should read his letters.  He's politically involved, for the Lady's sake!  And -" She stopped.

"And what?"  He packed leaves into a metal tea ball, tapping the sides precisely.

She changed the subject.  He let it go.  "If we ask him to come, he will.  The question is, should we."  She began to tap the letter on the table again, more firmly, her delicate eyebrows meeting.  He changed his mind.

"And what, dear?"

She hesitated, then tapped the letter one last time and placed it carefully flat.  "He's drinking again."

"WHAT?"  He spun from the counter, making the table in a stride and a half.  "I thought he'd quit!  You told me he'd quit!  Dammit, Margie!"  She sat, silent through his outburst.  He set the hot water down harder than he meant to and his tea cup right after.  "How long?  Is he broke again?  In trouble? I -"

"About a year I think.  He's not sleeping in a gutter yet.  Not that I excuse him."

"A year."  He pushed out a chair with his foot and sunk into it.  The tea ball banged loudly on the flowered china cup.  He stared into the darkening liquid with the expression of a man who had reached the end of his rope long ago but had not figured out how to loosen his grip.  She watched him, the wrinkles around her almond shaped eyes settling into worry, and placed a dark-skinned hand on his calloused one.

"I think..."

"Oba, Oba!  Aunt Aya wants some red ink, she said you'd know where it is!"  A girl streaked in, straight black hair a glossy stole over thin shoulders.  The old woman's face relaxed into a smile.  Her dimples came up suddenly and lent her youth.

"In the sideboard drawer, Opal."  The girl gave her a blank look, following her gesture but not understanding.  The older woman switched to heavily accented common.  "It is in sideboard, there."  She pointed again and the girl flung the drawer open with casual violence, picking up the squat glass bottle with red drips around the seal.  She slammed the drawer shut; both the man and woman winced.

"Thank you Oba!  Kiss!"  And she was gone in an echo of steps that never walked when they could run.  The old woman sighed, squeezing her husband's fingers, and picked up the letter with her left hand.  She resumed reading it in old Tilmarian.

"Please let me know when you might be able to assemble your family for a showing. It is important that they all be able to attend and it will be very much worth your time and theirs."  The letter was slapped flat again.  "All be able to attend?"  She pushed the glasses to the end of her nose, rubbing her eyes.  "Will, I don't know what he's done but I have a bad feeling about this."

"Then don't invite him."  The man's baritone was bitter.  "It's not like he stays put anyway."  

She nodded, still rubbing her eyes.  "I'll write Mr. Locke back.  And if he does come, I want Opal, Miyu, Aya and the baby gone."

"I'm going to try and find him, Margie."  He lifted the cooled tea in both hands.  "I think we should have a talk.  And the boy needs a talking to.  Thirty-five years-"

"Thirty-six."

"Thirty-six years and he still doesn't have control of his drinking?"  The cup scraped silently on white chin stubble.  "Of anything."

She didn't reply.  Pushing herself up, she went to the same sideboard drawer Opal had just slammed and took out ink, quill, paper and a seal before settling herself back at the table and beginning to write.

Dearest Mr. Locke...

[RollinsCat]

Alazira.

After the events of the other day, I felt it could not be left to stand.

We don't agree on Love, or Ilsare's interpretation of it.  That's fine.  The Muse allows both of us to worship her and has not seen fit to remove Her love from either of us so I think that speaks volumes on Her views of the situation.

However, as a Priestess of Ilsare I would think that badmouthing someone behind their back would be beneath you.  Most who know me have made up their mind one way or another, and your actions cannot do me much more harm.  But they can - and will - affect how people view you.

Call me out when you will and I'll discuss the matter or agree to disagree, but accord me the respect of allowing me to respond to your recriminations.

And - I speak for the record here - in regards to Melanna, I have done nothing more than show her the respect that I would show any other woman, yourself included.  I think of her fondly.  But I'm not interested in her so you may dispense with the bulldog act when I'm around you both.  Melanna is quite capable of expressing her feelings regarding teasing and frivolity and quite capable of chopping the hands off anyone who chooses to ignore her on that matter.

I sincerely hope that was an isolated incident of whispered ill words and I will act on the assumption that it is until I know differently.  But for the future, speak to me or hold your peace, as is only fair and civilized.

Yours in the Muse,


Andrew

[RollinsCat]

Lady Lana Poetr
197 Wayfare
Wayfare
Kingdom of Brelin
Mistone

Milady, I enjoyed our conversation and our long ride home. Singing down the road together, bringing smiles to those that listened was delightful and I was motivated to finish the song I promised. It changed as I wrote it and I'm afraid the Sea Maiden will have to wait - this became a teasing call-back-and-forth between a man and a woman, influenced no doubt by the events that proceeded our lovely talk.

I hope you enjoy it and I welcome suggestions on improving it. I'll be at Alazira's statuary exhibition despite what happened, and perhaps if you are there we can sing it together?

*enclosed is a separate scroll with the words and music to a duet in C minor*


The Sailor Bard Goes Courting

Maiden, maiden, on my ship / Raven hair and cherry lipped / Eyes that matched exact the sea / Your smile so strong and sultry

Sailor, sailor, you try so hard / But I never dally with a bard / You’re much to look at but your heart will stray / And I’ll be replaced inside a day

Maiden, the sailors all notice you / I’m smitten flat, I come to woo / I’ll sing my songs for you, fair maid / My heart laid bare in serenade

Sailor, sailor, with pretty face / It takes more than your warm embrace / I’ll hear your songs but promise naught / Unless I know you’re really caught

Maiden, maiden, I wander, true / But I cannot keep my eyes off you / Give me one chance to prove my worth / To show my goal’s not just your berth

Sailor, sailor, words so sweet / You mean to sweep me off my feet / Tempting, tempting, siren male / And yet you sing to no avail

Maiden, maiden, my head hangs low / But if you insist then I will go / You captured me in just one glance / But your words are clear – no romance

Sailor, sailor, silly boy / You’re much too quick to quit this joy / You should know a woman’s clues / When she wants you quit or to pursue

Maid, our voyage is quite long / Should I sing on or am I wrong? / Give me a hint, a little tip / Will we be together on this trip?

Perhaps and then, perhaps not / You’ll have to put some effort out / Any man can sing and flatter / But one who’s true wins things that matter

Maiden with the angel’s voice / I feel compelled to make a choice / Can’t we take some time, my dear / Enjoy our days in pleasured cheer

Sailor, sailor, winsome man / You bargain 'fore love’s began / A wooing I would most enjoy / But I won’t be played as passion’s toy

Maiden, maiden, this may sound flip / In two week’s time you’ll leave this ship / And I’ll be back upon the sea / Twixt now and then won’t you dally with me?

Sailor, sailor, hither and yon / But for patience you might have won / Bard, I might have dallied although / Now, I guess, you’ll never know...



Yours in the Muse, gentle lady -


Andrew Reid

[RollinsCat]

My Beloved Symphony,
 
  I have made it here to North Point safely, and I miss you and Tiger very Much. There is so much good to be done here to help those displaced by the storms, as it seems the Sisters of Mercy are already hard at work helping the wounded, and providing what shelter than can, as well as comfort for those who need it most. Many lives have truly been effected by the storms my love. So many lives already lost, and children and husbands, and wives who have lost the one they have bound their lives too. It is difficult not to be effected by the sadness in their eyes, and not feel and understand the pain they must be going through.
 
I do have great news to share with you. Father Leidanos and I have had a chance to talk, though I hope to truly get to know him as time passes as I know he has so much more wisdom he can share with me. He has already shared so much with me in ways that will help me better understand the path I have chosen.
 
I told him of how I came to know My Caring Light, how I had been brought up by my parents to embrace his ways since I was a little girl. How I have known him through the painful times in my life and through the joy I with with those I love.
 
He asked me why I had not sought more formal teachings, and the only reason I had was that Until now I knew that I was not ready to fully embrace the teachings of My Caring Light. I told him that slowly Aeridin has been showing me how this is where I belong, and in his own time showing me and leading me to understand.
 
He asked me what had changed in my life? There have been so many reasons, and so many things change truly. You, Omer, Tiger, the events in the silkwood. The reason for my journey truly began with the Angels and seeing fallen friends immortalized in statues, of seeing needless slaughter of so many hundreds of thousands of creatures trying to exist as we are.
 
He then asked me if I thought devoting my life to Aeridin would change the destruction. I told him I could not change the world but I could try. Truly my Symphony someone has to try! Even Father Leidanos is saddened by the enormity of it all. I want to help Aeridin's cause. I want to be a beacon to do his good work, and mend lives and show everyone what is possible when we believe.
 
As he asked me more questions of what I knew of the faith of Aeridin, he also taught me that while I try to define Aeridin's dogma in terms of black and white, that I was missing that it is not so easy. In trying to follow the letter of My Caring Lights dogma, I was forgetting its spirit. I was forgetting that we need our friends to help us purge evil from this world even though we may not always agree with them or their methods. We need them!
 
Father Leidanos told me what we need to do is embrace the life we have and respect the lives of others through Aeridin's teachings. I had to ask him though how you can protect those you call family and friends when you know in your heart what they are doing is wrong. This is when he assured me that we need those who do not follow Aeridin to still remove the evil of of this world. He reassured me that in their hearts they are all good people, but they are not held to the same respect for life expected of Aeridin's faithful.
 
What is evil and can good become evil? Yes it can. You see in my heart, in the actions of those I love and hold dear, I have seen acts that seem evil to me, they trouble me, as I have seen those we care for take pleasure in the death they cause, and it makes me wonder if we are not becoming more like those we consider evil.
 
We talked of so many things My Symphony, that I did not even feel the cold wind of North Point, I felt warm and embraced speaking with Father Leidanos, and even when he led me back outside to meet my mentor. She is the most beautiful lady My Symphony, I know you would love to meet. Her name is Kerrie Vlassk of the Sisters of Mercy. Even her hands were warm to the touch despite the cold, truly touched by My Healing Light.
 
I have so much to learn from her My Symphony there is so much that I don't even fully understand yet. I don't know how long I will be here, but there is so much good I can do here yet. Sister Kerrie says that sometimes the journey to find the Light of Aeridin can take a long time, and others My Caring Light touches their heart with his blessings almost immediately. I don't mind waiting though as I know that there is a reason in my heart that Aeridin would take his time to show me what I need to see as I am meant to know.
 
 Always Your Minu,
Elly

[RollinsCat]

To: Lady Lana Poetr
197 Wayfare
Wayfare
Kingdom of Brelin
Mistone

Lana, I enjoyed our time as well. I'm gratified to hear that Daniel and Bella seem to have found a less stressful place in their relationship (but not nearly as gratified as they hopefully are...if you'll forgive the pun...).

I have added another stanza and this has inspired me to write something for Ilsare. Odd, all this time - closer to thirty years than twenty - and I've never written a song exclusively for my Heartsong.

I hope you don't mind that I wrote some of the tune. I liked the reserved sound you apply to your your lyrics, and I wrote mine as a hymn for contrast.

Perhaps soon we'll have another chance to sit and talk, perchance to sing?

Yours in the Muse,


Andrew

*enclosed is a musical score putting the tune to written notes and an additional stanza*

Darkness surrounds me, covers me, hides me / Lest light betray me, in darkness I'll bide me / Heart of Beryl, oh, give me your fire / Gems flashing bright I desire

An emerald wink, a diamond kiss
The Deep Mother's eternal bliss
Light from inside crystal and stone
Brighter than that which on surface shone.

Skill in their making, long have I prayed for / For Your Perfection, I'll polish and cut more / Perfect Beryl, you've set me on fire / Gems flashing bright I desire

A ruby heart, a topaz sun
The Deep Mother’s glory done
Chisel and file her hymn and chorus
A thousand points of light before us




Master Andrew Reid
 c/o Twin Dragons Inn
 Leringard, Trelania
 
 Dear Andrew,
 
 Thank you for a most pleasant trip and for your instruction to Daniel.  I think he and Bella are getting along quite well at the moment.
 
 I'm enclosing a copy of the song we were singing, with another verse.  Tag!  I hope to see you soon.
 
 Sincerely,
 
 Lana Poetr
 
Darkness surrounds me, covers me, hides me.  Lest light betray me, in darkness I'll bide me.  Heart of Beryl, oh, give me your fire.  Gems flashing bright I desire.
 
Skill in their making, long have I prayed for.  For Your Perfection, I'll polish and cut more.  Perfect Beryl, you've set me on fire.  Gems flashing bright I desire.

An emerald wink, a diamond kiss - the Deep Mother's eternal bliss - light from inside crystal and stone, better than that which on surface shone.

[RollinsCat]

Ellis?

Really?

What the hells?

Is it Ilsare, or me, or her?

[RollinsCat]

Milady Argali;

I am in Lor on business and I've heard you've been scouring the waterfront for sailors and captains.

I'm a fair hand on a boat, having been learning on the many voyages I make. I've been told I could be a third mate now on tall ships. I'd like to discuss what you have in mind and how I can help, should you desire it.

I'll be in Lor for the week, staying at the Twins Watch Inn. I'd be pleased to have an audience with you. Leave word at the front desk.


Andrew Reid



*a note is left at the Twins Watch Inn addressed to Andrew Reid*

[INDENT]Mister Andrew,

Argali is looking for the instructors to be teaching the cadets the small boat craft and the introduction to the general sailory.

If you are available, she will see you this evening to discuss further.

~Argali Trueaxe [/INDENT]



He moves down the waterfront, eyes roving and hands shaking restlessly on their own. He keeps them clasped behind his back, a pose of arrogent self-confidence he despises but it's necessary at the moment. Gulls shriek overhead as two fishing trawlers, great wooden bellies stuffed with flopping future meals, are pulled toward the docks by a web of ropes. The wooden walkway is nearly empty.

Trash fish left to rot by the fisherfolk form a macabre mosaic along the weathered, gull-splattered wood. He's getting close, according to the young man who - young man. When did they start looking so young?

He's getting close to the landmark where they agreed to meet, the Mermaid. Formerly the prow of a massive ship, she was recovered after said vessel sunk in quiet indignity while in harbor during a storm. Now the Mermaid marks a long, lonely strech of dock and bears her slow decay with stoic pride, sword intact and aloft after forty-seven years of vigilence.

The copper curls he's come to recognize flash from the opposite direction, catching light from a window lamp with color as sudden as the opening of a forge then fading into the dusk again. He leans against the Mermaid's tail and waits, listening to her footsteps; purposeful, not too swift, not too slow, each step a marvel in mobile efficiency. Or so it sounds to him. He dips into a formal bow as she approaches. Vorax be damned; she's a lady and one who's done a hell of a lot more than I have to stop the mushroom.

"Milady, thank you for taking time to meet me. I'm at your disposal. What is it you need me to do?"

A sudden, piercing rain forces a relocation to the Twin Watch Inn's tender warmth; she is not inclined to small talk and neither is he as they hurry through the early fall downpour.  The inn's dusty leaded windows glow like a mother's arms and he holds a thick mahogany door open for her.  The iron ring handle clanks once as he releases it, any echo absorbed by the rain.  

He shivers, half from cold and half from the smell of hops and malt in the small bar room. Years of cigars and fine brewing has left an incense that summons his senses but the dwarven lady's offer of ale is gently refused; the pain is too fresh, as are the tremors.

"Grape juice would be fine, Milady. Thank you."

They settle at a small round table near the hearth. He leaves off his cloak blazoned with the Muse's symbol and wears his darker outfit; she in her usual armor is liquid gold in the fire's light.

"Zo, thank you for yourr letterr of the interest, and forr coming to see herr. As herr letterr iz zaying, she iz looking forr the instrructorrs to be teaching to groups of the unskilled people the fundamentals of the boat craft. She was thinking of starting with the moderate sized rowing boat that would be holding about eight orr zo, and teaching them all they need to know to eventually be able to take it out into the open waters with confidence, and travel along the coastline. Zis would be the weekly... Mmm... maybe fortnightly lessons.

"Zis will be the addition to the Beacon Tower cadet trraining. Given that Lorr is zurrounded by the coast on the thrree zides, it zeemed apprropriate, no?"

Argali stops talking to take a mouthful of ale, giving him time to think on what she has just said, and perhaps ask any questions. He folds his hands tightly but she's already noticed the shaking; she says nothing, yet, about it.

"Appropriate indeed, and I am eager to help; my small craft is limited compared to my large ship experience, but I've spent time in them and can certainly teach the basics." He lowers his voice, running a finger around the glass's rim. "I think, seeing as how I have an...antagonistic rapport with Rael, being on his soil I should probably take some precautions, if the lady doesn't mind. Andrew Reid will leave for Leringard; James Standish will return to help teach. I'm not well-known here so a minimal disguise should do." He smiles at that, stroking his currently hairless chin. "Will this be a problem for you, Milady?"

Argali smiles.  "No no, iz fine. Zo, how have you been antagonising the Underr Dog? Orr he, you?"  She looks to Andrew with interest.

"Ah, well - still writing, of course..." His voice is low, pitched for her ears only. "I've been feeding my work to other bards, one other in particular, who don't mind the publicity; cleaning up my image a bit. I'll sing for you when we're not in such mixed company." He pauses, still playing with the almost-full juice glass. "I had this - " He pulls out a dagger of iron with some adamantium decoration and a small mushroom stamped on the hilt - "thrown at my head a while ago. I guess Rael still loves me." Half a grin and he gives the dagger to her to examine.

"I'll be in town until I can speak to Marshall Tomyris, then I'll leave and double back as James. I do have some practical questions as well; how many cadets? Is there some reasonably private living space I can request? James, you see, is not musical and therefore it would not be good to find the upstanding only child of deceased West Gate parents noodling around on a violin, but Andrew will need that as a release. Hence..." He smiles, finally taking a sip. "...the need for privacy. I'll assume that quiet rowing and night sailing are to be on the teaching list as well?"

Argali examines the dagger with some interest before handing it back.  "Mmm... She will brring the whole trroop down for the inaugurral zession.  They can lend the hand with any cleaning of the boat that is requirred and you can make the very basic introduction to boating.  At the end Argali will ask for those who would like to learrn zis crraft to be ztepping forwarrd.  She reckons therre should be enough to fill one boat, though most of the cadets arre the kin, and may be the bit reluctant to be learrning the waterrborne skills.  If zis iz the case, Argali will volunteer to be taking parrt and be leading by example.  And if therre iz too many, we will have the next grroup ready when the firrst group arre completing the courrze, no?

"She does not intend forr zis to be taking all orr even the most of yourr time.  The cadets arre the regular civilians durring the day, learrning the skills durring theirr off hourrs.  Zis iz the way forr them to be imprroving themzelves and perrhaps opening the doorr forr the opportunity laterr on.

"Mmm... Regarrding the accommodation.  Argali generrally stays in the inn when she iz in Lor.  Therre iz the hall wherre we have been holding the cadet zessions.  It iz mostly unused durring the day.  You might be able to use one of the ztorrage rooms if it iz to yourr zuiting.

"The quiet rowing and night zailing we will keep forr the morre advanced courrse, no?"  She grins.  "Forr now, she iz happy when you arre getting them all pulling on the oarrrs at the zame time."

He chuckles and his smile shows every dimple.  "Milady, you have an instructor. Mister Standish will return inside a month's time to start."  He lifts his glass to tap her mug, then leans back in the chair.  "Now, Milady, if you are not too pressed for time - would you favor me with a little of who Argali is?  I'm ashamed to say I've never taken the time to hear your story."

Argali smiles and toasts Andrew with her ale. She flushes somewhat at his last request.  "Umm... Argali iz the kin, frrom the Hills of Taur'en on the Alindorr," she says proudly.

"She helps wherre she can."  She nods, as if in agreement with her own words.  She gives the impression that she is not being guarded or deliberately unforthcoming, but that she speaks genuinely if somewhat simplistically of herself.  

Perhaps a few specific questions might unravel a few threads from this otherwise carefully wound ball of travels and experience?

"I suppose the question most of interest is what motivated you to be here, helping to draw the line in the sand?"  He shifts, crossing his legs and focusing on her.  "I have powerful respect for what you, Marshall Tomyris, and Lady Swann are doing.  What got you involved?  What moment was the tipping point, between sad head-shakes from a distance...and action?"

Argali smiles at his question.  "Mmm... iz larrgely because she iz finding there iz no line drrawn in the zand.  People arre forrgetting he iz the ussurrper, the invaderr.  They have forrgotten the fight."  She lowers her voice and speaks closely to him in a somewhat hoarse whisper.

"They think they arre at peace."  Her eyes narrow at the weight of her remark.

He inclines his head and brings it up slowly, meeting her narrowed gaze.  His voice is still aimed only for her to hear.  "I began when someone heard me singing and asked me to write some songs against Rael.  I did some research, which allowed me to meet some remarkable people.  I came to realize that there is more, so much more, going on than we understand - and that his facade of peace is as flimsy as a drunk's morals when the bottle is empty."  He flinches even as he makes the analogy.

"I write my little songs but it's not enough.  I have to do more.  Touring from the safety of Mistone isn't going to stop him."  He sits back and finishes the juice, setting the glass down with a quiet thump.  "James will choose one or two willing cadets to train up to his level.  They can act as teachers eventually.  Then...I will be able to help with other things; I meant for James to originally enter the Rael navy incognito but this is a good way to establish him."  He pauses, shaking his head.

"Even asking you questions I still end up talking about myself.  Such a narcissist."  The last sentence spoken to himself.  He shifts and uncrosses his legs, looking at Argali again.  "Perhaps this is getting to close to the lady's age but - are you a Dragoncalled?"

Argali nods at his remark about training teachers.  She grins at his question last question, and flushes slightly, despite herself.  "No, no. She does not begin herr zearrch to become the Defender until zome twenty yearrs afterr the fall of the Ozlo."  She frowns to herself briefly as she recalls the loss of a great hero.  "He sets the example, no? The warr may have been won, but therre arre ztill the battles to be fought."

"More than we can even know, it seems.  The Mushroom..." He jerks his head vaguely north.  "The Drach Gararra..."  A head shake.  He leans forward, elbows on the table, and focuses on her, or tries to in the low light.  A glance around the room and he blushes as he takes out a small wooden case.  A quick thumb opens it and he removes a pair of silver spectacles.

"I normally don't wear these, my hearing makes up for my eyes.  I hope this doesn't defer your confidence but I can't see you very well right now."  His smile is rueful and he sets the lenses on his face; they fit well and pick up flashes of firelight against his dark skin.

"It comes down to, do what you can.  One step at a time - one action, one deed.  Here your one action has snowballed into many, into your cadets."  He smiles at her.  "And your line in the sand.  I think that's worth a smile from Ozlo."

Argali nods at Andrew's 'one action, one deed' remark, and grins a little self-consciously to herself when he mentions a smile from Ozlo. She sinks back into her chair, taking a thoughtful sup from her ale mug.

"Milady, I am taking to my bed soon. I wanted to say - "  He pauses, taking the glasses off and putting them in the case, stalling.

"I want to say thank you.  I am...I feel like this is a purpose.  And I intend to hand you back the best-trained rowers I can.  Perhaps even sailors, Muse willing."  He stands, reaching for her hand.

She smiles back over her ale, rising to give her hand.  "Argali iz happy to help."

He takes it, bowing low to brush his lips across the back.  "I will see you soon, then, Milady.  Oh - and let's keep this to older cadets and adults who are refreshing their skills initially.  My curriculum for teaching adults and young adults is of course different from that for teaching children."

Andrew releases her hand, straightening from the bow and smiling as he walks to the stairs.  Faintly over the rumble of voices and clinking of glasses comes his voice, in song...

[RollinsCat]

*the italic script is shaky, the letters jagged*

To: Healer Elohanna Minuet
c/o Temple to Aeridin
North Point
Boyer Kingdom
Dregar

Minu, love - I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write you.  I've only just gotten back the ability to write and the patience to sit.  I've put the bottle away again, hoping (as I always do) that it's for good this time.

It nearly killed me, Minu.  It gets worse every time and I wanted to die from the tremors and the delirium; my Muse and a friend kept me alive.  I'm not going to build up false hopes about permanent sobriety except to say, if I start drinking in the future, I will never stop again until it kills me.  I cannot spend another week as a screaming wreck unable to get off the floor.

Tiger is in Alton's hands and I've traveled to Lor to meet with Marshal Tomyris on business.  Some things have come up and I'll likely be returning periodically in the future; I'll tell you more of that when we meet.  I'll come to North Point as soon as I've finished here.  I think your company and the company of your fellows will be of comfort while I dry the last few years from my system, and if I can lend help in some way, all the better.

I'll see you soon.

Love,


Andrew



My Beloved,

I would nothing more than for you to come and help. It would be a blessing to see you here and know that Ilsare is searching for answers as well. I hope to see you soon.

Always Your Minu,
Elly
 


Minu -
 
I heard rumors of North Point's troubles and as I seem to have time on my hands, would you like my assistance?
 
I will be there, say the word.
 
 
 Andrew

[RollinsCat]

Forgot I wrote this, right after Omer came back and Minu left to figure things out.

I think I was very drunk at the time.  No, I'm sure I was.  Best not mention that.


The sun went down this afternoon
Didn't think it would be this soon
My life is running sand over glass
I thought I'd have that long
 
Would it have helped if I was less of me
Keeping my hands to myself
Would it have helped if I wasn't a drunk
Had left all my booze on the shelf
 
I only want what's best for you
I'm fine with it
Fine with him
Just fine
Really

My sun went down this afternoon
I didn't think he'd be this soon
Contingencies of thin spun glass
I thought I could be strong

I only want what's best for you
I'm fine with it
Fine with him
Just fine

Not really




Minu, love.

I'm still working in Lor - thank you for the additional spells, I will be back and forth here quite a bit. Things are going very well and I'm enjoying my class far more than I thought possible.

I was digging through my songbook and found something I wrote for you right after our discussion about Omer. I thought you might be interested in (now, a safe distance away from the pain) what I was really thinking after you left.

*enclosed is the above song, scored for violin, modified for piano - the tune slow and bittersweet*

Tell me how things in North Point are going, and I'll fill you in on my class when I see you in person.

Love,


Andrew



My Beloved Symphony

I would do anything I can to protect you, and keep you safe. There are more spells that should find you there safely with Lianna.

I believe you are a natural teacher and you have a gift of understanding that makes people comfortable around you, I know you bring comfort to me when I am out of sorts, and I can only imagine that, that same sense of understanding shines through to your students when you can tell they are afraid of the water or taking that first step to learn something new.

I know you are doing what you love and you are doing very well. It has not been easy here in North Point, walking by the site of.. I just can't bring myself to say it. I want so much to bring back those lost but I know also that I can't. My heart breaks for them and for our world that so many precious souls have been taken so horribly.

Truly there is not one in the temple who is not impacted deeply and the tears cling to their eyes as their hearts are broken. It has become more peaceful here though, or maybe it is just the grief heavy on the hearts of all here. There are not the short tempers flairing anymore but a sorrow that lingers in the air, even worse in some ways.

I am truly sorry for the pain I cause you Andrew. I felt as though my own heart was breaking twice over when I knew I might loose you. I never want to break your heart. I never want to see your tears fall, not because of me. I want to be the one to help ease your pain. I want to be your Minu, your Angel always. I am also glad to know that Tiger is being taken care of while we are gone and that he is in safe hands. I miss you both so much and I miss though sound of your heart beating and the feeling of your breath on my neck while you hold me.


Loving and Missing you Always
~Elly

[RollinsCat]

Siren's Song

Who keeps this lowly third mate burning
What keeps me at this porthole yearning
Whose song rings around me sharp and bright
Her face a vision slowly turning
 
A gaze like the ocean, a voice of the sea, her touch an untamed wave was the undoing of me...
 
The melody rips me up inside
An acid bath to my pride
Humming it to myself over and again
A hymn, a penance, a love denied
 
Who keeps this third mate locked in need
Head and heart and body agreed
Is the question then need from want
Or what do to should I succeed?

A voyage of trust, a ship in uncharted seas, mapping her waters was the undoing of me...

You can never tell the dangerous ones
The sirens song doesn't leave for question
Introspection or seize the day or live out life in quiet obsession

[RollinsCat]

Mister Reid,

It is good to hear from you once again. It is hard to say for certain what I will be doing so far in advance but I would certainly enjoy a good discussion.

Some of the things you are describing in your last letter are very interesting. There is another you might contact if your schedule allows. She is an associate of mine and she may be able to make some suggestions for you. She has a special gift with the Heartsong, a special understanding of it, and it may well be mutually beneficial.

Seek out Katrien Hommel in Port Hemstead if you are able. You should be able to call on her at The Foundation house. It's hard to miss and anyone should be able to give you directions. I may well be there to introduce you both but if not let her know I sent you. Show her this letter if you feel so inclined.

Walk in Inspiration,
Edgar Whinessy



To: Edgar Whinessy
c/o The Resonance of Being
Port Hempstead Municipal District
Port Hemstead
Kingdom of Brelin
Mistone

Conductor Whinessy, hello.

It has been some time since I've written and some longer time since I've seen you. I understand you've been busy and I can certainly appreciate that.

I'm in need of some guidance, however. I've been listening to the Heartsong for a number of years; it never ceases to amaze and calm me. I've noted that there are times when I can...I'm not sure how to describe this. Manipulate it? Project through it? Be pulled into it, pull it through me?

It. I say that for convienience but I mean Her. And suddenly the word "manipulate" seems a poor choice but I'm not sure how else to describe it.

An example; on two occasions I was able to soothe a pained soul with music. This in itself isn't ground-breaking, I'm doing the same thing in my association with Krandor Hospital. But during those two times, I could feel something more, the music reaching beyond me. I am hoping you can explain what I think I did so I can do it again as it brought a greater peace to situations than music can usually effect.

While I'm not looking to become a healer, this augmenting, channeling, whatever it is also has powerfully affected me. I'd like to learn what else can be done, and how it can be done more consistantly, whether it be a performance or healing or just working to bring consensus in disparate group.

I feel as if I'm standing at a crossroad gate. I am asking you to help me open it.

I will be tied up for some time between activities on Dregar and my work in Krandor Hospital so perhaps in a few month's time we can meet?

Yours in the Muse,


Andrew Reid

[RollinsCat]

Milady Hommel;

I'll introduce myself in the hopes you remember me. My name is Andrew Reid and we've met once before, long ago in the Breath of the Muse. You repaired my violin, Alexander, whom had taken severe damage during the second tsumani wave.

Having joined the Resonance of Being some years back, I've been off listening to the Heartsong and testing the ways I can hear it and even affect it (or allow it to affect me; this is as yet unclear to me). I have contacted Conductor Edgar Whinessy in Port Hempstead and he referred me to you as a source of information and even tutelage in such things. I can produce the letter for verification if needed.

I understand you are a busy woman, but I would be honored for a bit of your time. I have reached a point where my desire to learn about the Heartsong and Her mysteries outstrips my ability to improvise.

I can be reached in care of 137 Leringard, the Twin Dragons Inn in Leringard, or the Krandor Hospital in Krandor. Letters to either location will reach me.

I hope to sit with you soon Milady, to talk and perhaps to play. I can only imagine what our combined music might sound like - and I'd like to remedy that.

Yours in the Muse,


Andrew Reid

[RollinsCat]

Dutchess...I must find out more.

I have not been that pinned down since...

Muse, I'm in trouble.

[RollinsCat]

Andrew,

Thank you for the note. I have met this woman who called herself the Duchess in the past and while troublesome, I have found no cause to suspect her of illegal activities. I will be watching her more closely henceforth.

However; I'm afraid without further proof or more solid information there is little the authorities can do. One group or another is always plotting in this fashion and it is of no little surprise dark elves would not be about the same. My best advice to you would be to avoid the company of dark elves whenever possible my friend and therefore keep your head intact.

Protector Daniel



Daniel.

I need to report this to someone and when I think of Law, I think of you so -

I was in the company of a dark elf woman recently in Dalanthar; I had purchased an instrument from her some years back. She gave her name as Dutchess, which I truly wish I had remembered having heard in a negative context in Vehl while doing an investigation but I forgot that bit while we passed the time. Hindsight as it turns out really is the pits.

While in the company of said woman, another dark elf detained her and began to ask questions. Apparently she thought I was Dutchess's slave so I played the part to gain information. The woman gave her name as Drez'la Zo'corum of the House of Zo'corum; Dutchess mentioned hearing about that house in the course of conversation.

A summary of what I heard is thus: this Drez'la wishes to plant young dark elves as spies, acting in an "innocent" capacity to infiltrate we who walk under the sun. They would come off as trustworthy rejects from their own society. An army would then slowly be gathered for some unnamed objective. The number of spies given was twelve as I heard it.

Drez'la mentioned a post box in Arnax and told Dutchess to send information there; also a contact (I was unable to ascertain if this contact was in Dalanthar or just the northern part of Dregar) named Hayden. No description of Hayden was forthcoming.

Dutchess agreed to this and seemed enamored of the plan. It was at that point that they switched to the dark elf speech but I've been a listener long enough to know that it was about me; specifically what to do with me. Which became "club the slave over the head with a really big flail", not the ending I had hoped for but probably the one I deserved. I can only assume Dutchess didn't know I was stonebound (although she might have, and won't that be interesting). I'm certain the other dark elf woman didn't know that.

Anyway. The information is in your hands and I am at your disposal to give you any more that I can when next we meet.

Give everyone in the house my greetings and Lana a kiss for me?


Andrew

[RollinsCat]

Homecoming.

Crickets came through the open window; somewhere in the house Miyu sang to Opal and Vanessa while his mother swept a floor.  Aya's harp wandered in to mix with the evening sounds, her longing playing through so strong it made his own heart ache.  He could hear Shuichi and his father stacking wood for the kiln.

"Rest today, we work tomorrow."  His father knew better than to argue with Margaret when she had that look and their children and children's children had fled after supper to enjoy a little free time before the next day.  Mr. Locke's contract was huge, one of the largest ever for Reid Pottery and Andrew had already helped wrap and stack the clay he'd be throwing in the morning.  He smiled in the unlit room, his hands cupping to a gentle U and fingers rolling up and down over an imagined bowl.  He stopped to watch his hands as if they were a stranger to him as they flicked and moved over the air.  I wonder if there's a way to make music on clay?  And why haven't I forgotten this stuff by now?

The bittersweet harp strings faded to a low strumming, almost a dirge.  Aya hated it here.  Hated it, and was preparing to leave.  Whomever was tutoring her had her chomping at the bit to see the world.  He had talked to her, tried to convince her, reasoned with her, offered to teach her, begged her to stay, for her daughter.  "I've known too many people with distant or missing parents.  It makes a difference." But even Vanessa was not enough to keep her there, as her family had been no hindrance when she left to marry as a teen.  She was still Aya, still stubborn, more than him; still wild at heart, bound only by her gender in a society that didn't reward it and her child. And my brother is giving her all the excuse she needs to leave.  However much Miyu and Shuichi were excellent parents, Vanessa would know.  She was old enough to remember the mother who'd left.  He felt a clenching in his chest for the girl and whispered a promise to his Grandmother as he lay there.  The harp stilled.

They were looking to him to stop her.  His mother had taken him aside, his father.  He didn't know how to tell them.  She was going to go, it was only a matter of time.  She'd had her fill of being an artisan's daughter and her magic was strong, astoundingly so for having come late in life.  He'd taken for granted that his song was touched with the magic of the Heartsong, and she'd never even done more than give lip service to Ilsare before.  And yet he heard it, felt it, from the harp she'd learned sometime in her existence in the gilded cage of high society wifedom, heard her chords touch him deeper than his ears, seen her conjure a spell from her sound.  He had seen the passion in her eyes when she spoke of being a part of bigger things.  She was going to leave and the best he could do was offer to be there.

A sharp rap as a rock skimmed the windowsill.  Oh, yes, and this. Muse, my Lady, my Love, if you are listening, let me be at peace with this.  Please.  He rolled from the narrow bed, made sure the door to the room was locked, and folded himself over the sill.  His branch was gone, the tree that lent him so much freedom as a child still growing outside his window of the old house.  The new house had no such escape and he had to jump down the half-story.  She was waiting on the ground.

"They're gone inside, let's go."  She pulled her hood over that ridiculous dyed blonde hair.  He hated it, but so did his father and that's all the reason she needed to keep it that way.

"Aya, are you sure."

"Don't back out on me now.  Don't you dare -- and quit trying to change my mind!"  

He backed up and held his hands out as her voice raised.  "Okay, shhh, let's go.  Do you know the way?"  She nodded curtly and they padded off, down the hill, past the pond and beyond the barn to the street.

She was silent until halfway.  "I smelled those cigars.  You had better not let mother catch you, she's already caught father twice."  

His grin flashed and faded.  "I'll risk it.  Muse, Aya, do you know what it means to be able to stand and talk to him without him finding something to be angry about?  At least if we're both courting trouble he's not going to lecture."

She nodded and fell silent for another few steps, then -- "Did you really quit drinking?"

"For good."  

"He wants to believe you still."

"Do you?"

Her steps slowed.  "I think I want to.  Which means I don't not care anymore."

A sad smile and he touched her arm.  "For good.  I promise."

She only shook her head, changing the subject and picking up the pace.  "Is it going to hurt?"

"Well, if it works, no, and if it doesn't..."  His stomach curled hard and he felt a flop sweat coming.

"It'll work.  It worked for you."  He said nothing.  "How old were you again?"

"Eleven."

She thought on that as they neared the town center.  The cobbled streets were cold and nearly empty, only a few party-goers and a guard out walking.  The stone arched ahead, pitted and rounded by time, weather, war and Muse knew how many hands.  They stopped at the base and stood.

Two minutes.  Three.  "Were you afraid?"

"Yes."  He had been.  Terrified, actually, but more afraid of losing the bet and powerfully curious at the same time.  If I'd known then what an aphrodisiac gambling with fear and curiosity would become...maybe I'd have been a potter.

"What...do I do?"  

He was frantic inside, picturing himself bringing her body home, trying to explain.  It would be useless to lie.  His mother could always tell his big ones.  "Touch it, and when you feel the magic pull you, let it.  Don't resist, just let it."

She knelt and placed her hands on the stone, shivering with more than cold.  "If you're already bound can you touch it with me?"  He dropped to his knees beside her and wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders, singing a prayer.  The stone was as resolute as ever but Aya gasped and her head flew up.  He held her tighter while she shook and felt his jaw start to ache from being clenched.  It was over vanishingly fast, although he knew how long it would seem to her.  His jaw relaxed a tiny fraction when she fell back; she looked at him with a breathy laugh.  "Is it done?"

"You tell me."  She smiled, her laughter the sound of a bird with the cage door left open.  She grabbed him, squeezing him in a bear hug as relief and anticipation vibrated the Heartsong around him.

"Let's go home."  The sudden determination studding her voice made him freeze.  He put a large hand on each of her arms and stared until she met his eyes.

"Promise me, Aya.  If you leave...when you leave...come find me first.  I will help you."  A choppy nod.  He let his look burn into her for a few seconds longer then let her go, helping her up.  "Okay, let's go home."




For OsX.

[RollinsCat]

Minu.

I'm sorry - very, very sorry.  I tried, I really did.  We met in Hlint by the fountain near the shrine.  I thought the setting might remind us of our shared love for you and inspire us to find a way to ease this cold war we've entered into.

Discussions did not go well.  He was hostile, to say the least; I kept digging to find the problem.  He finally turned to look at me and began to call me what I believe are a number of very bad words in elvish, describing me as a destroyer of households and accusing me of seducing you only to sate my lust, and now I'm going to destroy Lana's house and her family is his family and how can I live with myself...he went on and on.

I told him I had offered to step aside and that is not what you want.  That was ignored.  He spoke of how I only wish to seduce for my own rampant needs.  I could have mentioned that I have not lain with another woman since we fell in love but it would have come out feeble I think, me protesting too much, and I doubt he'd believe me in any case.

I reminded him that when you and I met he was gone with no indication he'd be returning, leaving you waiting and alone.  I believe I brought this point up several times, with increasing intensity, as the discussion moved south of civil.  He never acknowledged the point or deigned to discuss it.  It was as if he had done no wrong and it was entirely my idea to seduce a woman spoken for.  

And yes, that made me angry.  Before things got ugly he spoke of you as a "innocent".  Of how caring you are; agreed.  Of your capacity to love and your gentle soul; agreed.  But innocent and - here is what aroused my ire - easily swayed by a handsome bard with a song?  By my Lady and your Caring Light, you are not some dewy-eyed maid just out of her parent's house.  Nor are you a woman who falls into swoons at pretty words, nor are you someone who requires seduction.  I see you as Elohanna, a woman who ran an Academy, who stands firm in the face of ignorance and hurt, who has found her calling in the road less traveled in the name of her god despite knowing how difficult that road is.

A woman who has been a wife, a lover, a mother; who was not seduced, by me or anyone else, and who can choose what she wants.  That he could see you in that way angered me.  I don't love delicate little flowers who bend in whatever wind is blowing; Muse, if I wanted that, there are several continents full of those women to pick from.  I love a woman who knows her mind, who acts on her own convictions, and who often makes things complicated for me.  Because a woman who isn't challenging isn't interesting.  You would say the same of the men in your life, I'm sure.

I recall at that point telling him that he didn't love you, he apparently felt he owned you, and he was not worthy to stand on Ilsare's holy ground.  Perhaps that came out a bit strong.  I'm quite certain now that being near Her shrine - and the two temple archers nearby - were all that kept him from demanding satisfaction right there and then.  I left too angry to continue the conversation and that is where it currently sits.

I know this letter will be upsetting to you, love.  I know you had hoped, as had I, that some truce could be reached.  I'm not sure of the next steps now.  I love you and by the Muse I will not abandon you to make my life less complicated; you are my sun.  You refused my offer to untangle the knots around your heart, for which I was secretly very glad, but as he and I are not going to share gracefully it seems, another tactic must be called for.

You asked what I would have you do, that night on the couch.  A fair question in light of these developments.  You are going to have to decide, when both of us are around, whom you wish to spend time with, knowing the other will probably remove themselves from the situation.  

I will not come by the Academy unannounced or unrequested, now.  That's his territory and it would go badly for me.  Nor will I come to the house in Llast as my impression is he's living there.

I'm sickened it comes to this.  Perhaps greater men would see past themselves and put the lady first.  I wanted to.  I still do.  But I don't hold out much hope that it will be allowed to happen here.

With all that, I remain your Symphony, for as long as you shall have me.  And if you decide that the pain is not worth the pleasure of my company, I will honor that decision too.  Some see it the coward's way to not fight for the one they love.  But fighting with Omer hurts your soul; dueling him or worse would be an unspeakable insult.  And so let them think me a coward so long as I know I'm doing right by you.

To end on a happy note, Tyr'riel is doing well and Tyra appears to be as well.  Motherhood is softening her hard edges a bit - I even got her to sing the other day.  I will be taking part-time residence in the tower to help with childcare, so you can find me there or in Leringard.  And thank you, love, for your kind offer of assistance in renovating the tower.  I'm trying to secure more financing; Tyra and I will be in hock for a while but the boy needs a safe home, after all.  

I hope to see you soon, Minu.


Takeshi

[RollinsCat]

They'd gone to bed late. He'd been working on something distinctly Tilmarian, using eighth and sixteenth notes on his violin and of all things a gong which had Tyra in fits when he let Ty bang it. But he'd put the instruments onto a makeshift shelf and finally, after some conversation - becoming easier, over the last few weeks - and a light supper, he went to his cot and she to her canopy with her bedmates sheathed and in easy reach. Ty was snuggled into his crib, one Andrew had bought in Port Hempstead that was large enough and tall enough to keep the now-crawling boy captive at night.

He lay in loose cotton sleeping pants and hummed the same tune that had consumed three of his days. He couldn't find the right notes to make it move him. It sounded fine, it was a nice piece of traditional Tilmarian symphony - albeit minus the actual orchestra - but it wasn't right yet. He hummed and his long fingers moved over strings by muscle memory. Sleep teased but would not take him completely; Ty's slight shifts and Tyra's gentle snoring finally helped ease his eyes shut.

She woke when he began to moan, her hand on a sword before her eyes fully opened. The sound was not sensual nor pain but fear - deep fear. She used the sword to flick a canopy layer aside saw him lying as if in rictus, arms straight at his sides and fists clenched. He did not move except for tremors and the moaning, his breathing labored. He wrenched suddenly as his body trying to turn left at the waist while his bowstring-tight legs remaining straight.

His breathing became harsher still and his head was turned to the left as far as he could crane it. The muscles in his shoulders, arms and chest were corded; his stomach flickered, quakes shivering along faintly visible rectus abdominus.

His chest froze, remained frozen, and he did not breathe. His stomach clenched now too; it looked as if one tap would snap him in half, and seconds later he did, sitting up with frightening speed and dragging in a ragged breath. He was sweating, gasping, rubbing his throat and trying to swallow, and his hands shook as hard as the day after he'd quit drinking...and then someone was touching him, piercing the film of the dream and returning sensation to his skin.

"Andrew... Andrew!"  Tyra grabbed him by the shoulders. "What's wrong?  You alright?" She brought her hands to his, holding them as they shook.  She scooted around to get a look at him, a rare look of empathy on her face as she searched Andrew's for some hint as to what was bothering him.

Andrew's eyes were wide and still seeing residual dreamworld. Her sleep-cooled fingers were the only thing connecting him to the room, to waking, to himself. He looked down at her hands on his then flung them open and pulled Tyra into an embrace. It wasn't passion, or at least not the kind that was painted for naughty amusement; it was need, need for connection and sensation and to not be dreaming any longer. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and stayed there, breathing her in to force something else away.

How long he held on to her it was hard to say. Time passes differently in a dark room in the middle of the night when only a few orange embers and the sound of a sleeping child provide landmarks in the steam of minutes and hours. Finally, however, his shaking stilled and he swallowed yet again. He began to recite the dream in a hoarse shadow of his voice.

When he finished speaking he pulled his head from her neck, shifting as he became aware she was more or less in his lap on the narrow cot, and loosened his embrace with a flush. "I'm sorry I woke you, blossom. I'm not getting any more sleep tonight, I'll go into the other room..."

[RollinsCat]

A place to hang my hat and head
The truth unvarnished, my pride bled
Love and passion and tears shed
I need shelter

Was there anybody home
A need, a want
An echoed haunt
A dream of love left crumpled in a corner...

But no, the inner child's dead
The armor pierced, the dream fled
Nothing more than surface read
She wants shelter

Not another body warm but not a thing to say
Not another night without hello, how was your day
I need a mind to tangle mine
Challenge
Soothe
Allay...
I need shelter

I need a mind
I need a voice
Ideas -- Trust -- A heart -- A choice
I need shelter
I need shelter

[RollinsCat]

He sat cross-legged on his bed in Leringard with his violin near.  Muse, he'd missed his bed.  The cot in the tower, too narrow and too short as always, had left him snappish from poor sleep.  He wanted to sleep but Aya would not stay long; even now she shifted in the chair by his desk, watching him with a kind of sick fascination.

He continued to pack the pipe.  The dreamroot was where he'd left it in the lower drawer and thank the Muse it had been dry enough not to mold.  He spared a glance at Aya; she shifted again but her eyes never left him as he crumbled and packed in a long-remembered ritual.

"Will it stink?"  Her voice was sharp.  She didn't want to be here, see this.

"Not really, the smoke is kind of sweet."

"Why can't you just have some wine then?  Just a glass.  That should relax you for this dream you're so obsessed about."  He looked at her from under his eyebrows, thumb still in the pipe's bowl.  

"No alcohol.  None.  Not ever again.  I can't stress that enough, sister."

"Fine."  She turned in the chair and began leafing through his desk, disrupting a very fine layer of dust as she picked up sheet after sheet of his music.  "You haven't been home in a while."

He took advantage of her turned back to light the pipe.  He dreaded her watching him for reasons he could not explain - this was something he'd lost a taste for sharing, almost lost a taste for completely.  It had been three months since he'd sat, alone, and let his mind go completely in a haze of smoke.  Somehow having her watch made his skin prick.  But he had to get back into that dream.

"Just...if things go badly, try to rouse me.  I'm probably making a big deal of nothing, Muse, I hope.  And Aya?  Thanks."

"Whatever..."  Her inflection was exactly like Tyra's at that moment.  She was still facing away and he sat praying she would not turn around while he inhaled and held the smoke as long as he could.  He put the delta into his head.  Turned himself to face it, imagining the pain in his shoulders.  He didn't count how many times he inhaled, he didn't listen to his surroundings, he didn't anchor himself to place or time.  His mind wandered...Tyra...what to do - she'd never be what he needed and he'd never be what she wanted and yet.  Why had he wanted to be Ty's father?

He tried to force his mind back to the dream, but he felt the disconnectedness he'd so often craved before.  Jaelle.  Minu.  Rael.  Tyr'riel.  Mother, father...Aya.  He almost opened his eyes, then took a deep breath and put the pipe down.  He never knew what was enough and what was too much, that was his problem.  Never a nice balance with him.  Never a middle ground.  Three routes...why not the middle?  Three routes.  The delta.  The heads...the music...he focused on that, mind both wakeful and artificially relaxed, malleable.  The music.  The notation.  Each note in the air...he picked up the violin.

...........

The smoke lingered in the air, the violin remaining unplayed until it slipped from his sleep-loosened grip.  He lay back on the bed, fighting the urge to slumber but far too high to put up much of a fight.  Aya sniffed and made a half-hearted face.  She watched him, as he'd asked her to, with increasing boredom.  Time slowed, seemed to pass slower with each moment.  The bed looked comfortable if her giant lug of a brother wasn't taking up most of the middle.  The chair was comfortable though, she could sleep right here.  He was fine.  Much ado about nothing.  As usual.

He is lying in silt.  He does not know how he got here.  He stands, brushing at his clothes and shaking off the caked sand out of his hair and off his coat.  He does not know where he is.

It's beautiful.  Trees and grass sway as dancers in a rhythmic breeze while the birds sing the melody and the river add percussive burbling, multiplied where it splits into three...routes?  He's at ease here, he smiles, forgets the silt still on his coat.  "So much like before," he whispers to himself in a voice not wholly his own.  "How can I keep it this way?"

He turns and takes one step.  He didn't mean to do that.  He didn't want to do that.  His foot acts on its own and a tiny voice, he's not sure how much of it his, yells.  "NO! Muse, NO!  Why?  Why did I do that?!!"

Darkness more sudden than the curtain at the end of a performance; instantaneous.  He feels cold inside.  It's wrong, again. it's wrong...the water around him suspended in air, grass bent under some wind-swept fist never to bounce back, no song, no whistling breeze, no sound at all except a ringing in his ears.  The sound of shattered glass that never stops breaking.  He wants it to stop, more than last time.  He wants to stick fingers in his ears and wiggle them until the whine pops and sound rushes in.  He cannot move.  His blood feels cold.  He cannot feel his heart.  His panic isn't a voice but thoughts he only sense, cannot hear - he can hear nothing..."No heart, no sound, no song, it is gone!! What have I done!?"

He would flinch if he could but he can't.  He knows it's coming and it does, the twisting, the grinding, the turning.  He is in someone else's hands.  They want him to see something.  He will see it, whether he wants to or not.  Shoulder blades rubbing the other bones in his back, the crushing sensation that has no feeling, only a distanced knowledge that it should hurt.  Pressure.

He is facing the river delta, again.  It is frozen, again.  The stony rattling, again.  The echo.  The baby's head from the sand, opening to let the larger head rise...the heads shutting.  The rattling, grinding sound starting and stopping with their movements.  Turning toward him.  He wants to scream, the horror is multiplied almost beyond his sanity.  It's Tyr'riel, deadened eyes on him and Tyra's head squatting on top.  Flesh and bone pressed together.  Silence.  He stares in agony as fresh as the night he first had the dream.

He hears but it is no relief this time.  The jaws screetching as un-oiled hinges, the bolts - the scream.  He can't stop the noise, he can't run away, he can't stop looking at the heads.  The ink pours again from their mouths, his son's, his son's mother's, and he sees the music scrolling across the air.  He can't concentrate, he can't read it - the pressure of the scream in his ears feels like a blister ready to pop, and then there is blood running down his neck.

"MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKEITSTOP! MUSE! Save your humble servant from this agony!"

He caught his breath, face twisting and body tensing.  Aya jolted from her relaxed doze.  His body was taut, his muscles corded under increasing tension,  but he remained unmoving.  She began to count; his chest did not rise.  His face tightened into a rictus mask.  Perhaps it was the smoke, but time seemed to pass slower and his skin greyed.  She ran the few steps from the chair to the bed.  A delicate hand, calloused from her iron mace's handle, pressed to his neck; a slowing heartbeat.  An ear finely tuned to hear nuaces in sound, turned over his mouth; no breath.  She put both hands on him and began to bounce him on the bed as they had when they were children.  "No no no no no, please, don't die, you can't die. Wake up Andrew, WAKE UP!"

He moved as if he was a board.  His entire body bounced; there was no flex, and panic blurred her passing of time.  It may have been one minute or ten before he finally gasped, an oxygen-starved dreamer breaking the surface of consciousness.  For several minutes he was mute, trying only on filling his lungs again and again, staring at her with wild, unfocused, fear-filled eyes.  His body let go of the tension and he became a trembling heap, moaning with real pain when he tried to put his arms around his familial lifeline.

He began to recite the dream to her in a fuzzy voice.  He stuck his fingers in his ears, over and over, wiggling and popping them while he spoke.  He didn't ask if she wanted to hear it, he only started talking, reminding himself of every detail and breaking into quiet tears as he described Ty and Tyra's face.  "Aya...I'm not sure it's my dream, or at least I think someone wants me to see it.  Is the Lady of Dreams trying to tell me something?  Have I strayed from Her?"

[RollinsCat]

Women.  Insane.  All of them.