Sarye and Imti 5
Mar. 23rd, 2010 05:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leticiaSo I missed a couple days. That's okay, Brian and I don't actually play that often, so I'll run out of logs sooner or later anyhow.
The two explorers - now Solars and rightful owners by all laws, of Heaven and the present society, of this manse and the land around it - have regarbed themselves in their various heavy and not-heavy armor. Needless to say, Imtithal is still gorgeous in the sweeping white silks; for now she is wearing the faceplate of the armor inside the chest-wrapping silk, rather than over her face. Their anima banners are still at full bonfire, from the expenditure needed to attune to so much gear at once.
In the clasp of the Wings, Imtithal found a roiling, fiery sphere, a hearthstone to a yet undiscovered manse. She has removed it from the Wings, and is poking at it.
The Solar fury of the central shaft of light has stabilized, no longer flaring as it did when Sol Invictus himself looked in, but still radiant and glorious, deep into the depths of the mesa. Now both are attuned to the manse, and the hearthstone is fully active in Sarye's armor.
Sarye is practicing with the Singing Crystal Cutter; he seems to enjoy its battlesong almost as much as his own. It certainly helps that the armor itself is incredibly responsive and agile, with onboard tactical spirit-matrices that help him plan out his every move. "Found any clues within the gem?" he asks of Imti after a while.
Imtithal shrugs slightly; she's currently sitting cross-legged with a roll of parchment in her lap and a quill. "Do you know much about geomancy?" she asks. "The manse to which this stone belongs is connected geomantically to the temple. I'm trying to figure out where the most optimal place for a fire manse would be in connection to this."
Sarye shakes his head wryly. "I am not very good at the technical aspects. I do know some local histories and songs, though, if you could tell me more about what sort of fire-aspected environment would produce it.
Imtithal nods, sketching another quick set of lines across the map. "The flows are all twisted here," she says. "Off kilter from the elemental poles, so we can't check due south, which would make sense normally. I think this stone is a Ruby of the Flame Dragon's Breath. I would expect the manse that produced it to have a lot of exposed flame, possibly volcanic activity, but there are no nearby active volcanos that I am aware of.
Sarye ponders that for a few moments, going over a few songs, even singing a few verses, in his head. Finally, he hits upon a "place where the earth breathes flame" that is protected by a "terrible beast," which brings unspecified doom to "all who brave the flame for power." "That," he says when he finishes, "Is the best that I can recall, I am afraid."
Imtithal tilts her head, listening. "Interesting," she says. "That would certainly be the right sort of place, though the beast in question would be an obstacle." She doesn't seem as worried about that idea as she probably would have the day before, but she's been through some changes in the last few hours. "Do you know where it would be? I'm trying to calculate the rate of twist in the local elemental aspecting so I can figure out where the local dragonlines believe the fire pole to be, but it's ...complicated." She smiles slightly, her eyes glowing lightly. "I would really like to find this manse and attune if possible. The hearthstone's power is to amplify flamepieces, if I have identified it correctly." She strokes one of the weapons at her side lightly.
Sarye thinks about it for a moment. "There's a series of volcanic ridges southwest, close to west, of here. It's got some bad areas with poisonous fumes and the like, so it is mostly avoided anyway. If there was a fire-manse that bloomed flame, and had not been recaptured-- there, I suspect, would be the place.
Imtithal frowns. "How far?" She pulls out the map. "I'm not familiar with anything like that on my father's land, but if it's not too far, it would be..." She smiles slightly. "The land has been in my family since we split from one of the larger families of the Radeen. In theory, we got the lesser lands. It is mostly 'useless' desert, but along the east and southeast, it borders the river, and there is good farmland there. It's been rented to the same families for at least 200 years now. Mind, I suspect even this manse alone makes a lie of the common wisdom that we took the least valuable property. If there is another..."
"It will be value of a different sort. This place is a fastness; it could hold my entire tribe, and I suspect your immediate family beside, if it came to a siege. Let us hope it does not." He ponders again. "I do not -think- there are any fortresses out there, that I have heard of. Volcanic vents make for good tunnels-- after the volcano has died," he says wryly. "If we go, there will be no skulking in corridors, at least. Just this nameless beast."
Imtithal shrugs. "I have only my sister," she says after a moment, her smile somewhat more peaceful than it could be. "My brother's wife. If there is room for a tribe, there would be room for her." She waves a hand vaguely around the room. "I do not expect the treasure trove this has been; this is clearly the master manse, but simply having the manses on land I own is valuable; no unknowing, mortal landowner to debate with about our access rights."
Sarye chuckles. "That will be an added benefit of having my kinsfolk on your lands. They come and they go, and will be willing to escort those who are peaceable and can pay for that escort with food along the way. There will be -no- trouble with raiders if the F'meeqi are regularly coming and going."
Imtithal gives Sarye a light smile. "I am sure my tenants will be alarmed if they notice herds of Simhata in their backyard, but I am also sure they can be reassured." She waves a hand, dismissing that as a concern.
"The worst, I suspect, will be showing off." He laughs. "I do not know which is worse-- the young men of our tribe, or the young simhata-- _both_ love to show off." He smiles again, still unveiled. "And mature simhata, like Corona... are no better, I am afraid."
Imtithal raises an eyebrow. "Speaking of simhata, perhaps you should go visit your showy friend," she suggests. "I will wait inside to be sure nothing untoward happens."
Sarye smiles, and bows extravagantly in his new, glittering armor. He'll wear the veil beneath once he puts the helm on, but for now, he remains open and honest with his circlesister. "Indeed. Given how radiant we both are now... and how loudly he snores, lady, if you have not grown up with him, I would stuff your ears if you were the first!" he says cheerfully, and begins picking up the helmet. "I understand the rite here now, and we are attuned," he says, putting on the helm; his voice is clear and natural through its blue jade repeaters. "We should probably leave-- I have already sent a prayer-wing to my brothers and sisters; they will meet us on your border for speech and the formal permissions." He chuckles quietly. "On foot at first, though; they have a surprise waiting."
Imtithal nods. "Should we take the short way down?" she asks, grinning widely as the cloak's broad wings unfold from her back - and at least this time, her anima grows no brighter, as she uses personal. "I do want to test my wings." There's a note of longing to it.
Sarye's eyes may be invisible, but his voice carries delight as he replies, "Certainly!" His agreement is near total. "I would love to get the chance to fly!"
Imtithal grins and reaches for his hands. "Hang on," she says, getting a good grasp on his sides. "Not that you couldn't probably jump down just fine." She makes a couple experimental beats with the wings, stirring the air around them and creating swirling eddies in the column of solar light that serves as the heart of the manse, then with a shout of pure joy, leaps up, soaring upward first, the heavy wings beating slowly, before turning and diving at breakneck speed but completely under control towards the bottom of the shaft, hidden in light.
Sarye gives a happy cry as they leap, enjoying the sensation of both the solar energies flowing through them, and the amazing sensation of leaving gravity behind for a while. "This is something to be enjoyed on every occasion! You have won out in the manner of secondary accouterments, I fear!--" not that he would trade his thunderbolt shield for the wings, but this is, indeed, amazing.
Imtithal laughs as she snaps her wings down, slowing their descent. "I am just as glad I have no use for a shield," she agrees, bringing them to a hovering pause at the bottom of the shaft; there is no obvious way into the spiral from here currently open, but the crudely bricked over windows that open onto every room -are- obvious. "Kick one of those out," she suggests. "It's probably easier from in here than from the outer rooms." She flies him closer to the lowest set.
Sarye casually spins, using the armor's elevated strength and speed to work up momentum, twisting around in Imti's arms to bring his leverage to bear precisely-- and shattering the bricks without harming the substance of the Manse, though the ancient structure is immensely strong, and probably proof against such things.
The bricks shatter out in a spray across the broken and barren room; the first room they entered and spent so long cleaning is beneath them, and Imtithal soars out into it. It is no longer dark - lit both by their still active animas, and the golden light coming through the now open window, pure sunlight even in the depths of the mesa. The crystals overhead are now visible to both, and both know the minor ritual to activate them when they want, but do not need to.
Imtithal slowly spirals down the floor and sets Sarye down on the ground. "We'll have to get a lot more of those windows open eventually," she says.
From here they can see the vast doors at the lowest end of the room which would have once opened to welcome worshippers, but they are old and long disused; the side portal they entered from is all they truly need. Imtithal waves a hand vaguely at Sarye. "I'll try to get another one pried open while you're out there. Come back when everything's take care of." She's not taking any risks with stealing Corona from him.
Sarye performs another one of his leaping flips, casually hopping out through the window. The Manse is active now, and he must pass through the force-screens of Solar energies, but he is recognized, as part of those patterns as much as the hearthstone that powers his brilliant armor. There is a rather cranky yowl from from below, followed by a series of whinnies as Sarye hits the ground with a loud thud, startling the trio of mounts. Eventually, though, there is a silence, as even the horses recognize the new bonding.
Sarye activates his helmet's control, letting both the brilliance of his caste mark, and the familiarity of his face and scent, come out to his beast. The man barely avoids weeping as he can feel the bond not only renewed with his energetic mount, but redoubled, the energy pouring through both. Corona feels content-- right-- as few of his kind have for generations, and as they hug and snuggle, the purring is loud enough to shake the manse!
Imtithal, waiting inside, is taking no risks with interrupting the bonding before it's complete; she takes a piece of twisted metal from the rubble and begins prying the rapidly crumbling bricks out of other of the openings towards the hearthroom.
Sarye calls out to Imtithal, "Heyla! Let us away; all is well!'
Imtithal chuckles and flies out herself. Reluctantly, she swoops down to rest next to her skittish warhorse, chuckling gently to him. "There, my pretty," she says. "It's just me. Good boy."
She pats him on the nose, the wings folding back down to a cape flowing behind her, and swings herself back up on his back easily. "There you go," she croons, gently, reassuring her mount.
The mare is tied to Imtithal's warhorse with a long lead, and Corona is more than ready. Sarye slings the Singing Crystal Cutter across his back-- unlike his scimitar, which is carefully bundled in his equipment for infiltration, if such be necessary, he can't wear the Cutter at his hip-- and nods to Imtithal, ready for the ride.
Imtithal glances over at Sarye. "What direction do we ride to meet your clan?" she asks, gently patting the warhorse's neck; the poor beast has mostly calmed under her confident handling.
"Back west, and north a ways, off the road for now." He chuckles. "I have learnt a new trick," he tells her. "Look at the desert where Corona passes." And indeed, there are no tracks at all, for Corona is padding over the sand almost as though he has not touched it at all. "This Zenith being-- it is most convenient!"
Imtithal's eyebrows rise. "I am impressed," she says, and laughs slightly. "I could do something similar, of course, but it would be much more obvious, and require me to leave my poor horse behind." She smiles wryly. "Poor thing."
Sarye laughs, but sobers quickly. "We will have to guard ourselves carefully-- I do not know how to banish this armor to Elsewhere; you may have to be our representative in the city-- subtle and quick as Night," he says with a nod.
Imtithal smiles wryly. "Is it even a good idea to tell YOUR clan?" she asks, quietly. Trusting his answer, but unsure. "I know your people have, umm. An open mind on the subject? But..."
Sarye laughs again, growing calmer. "We have waited for the return of the Solars for millenia; since before the Khakhan gathered the tribes and set down the great laws," he explains. "They will help us..." his voice grows troubled again, "But I suspect that the tribe will be absent, save those sworn to the Tri-Khan's family, from Chiaroscuro for a while. Many may take shelter within the Manse, as well; the Immaculates may seek to fall on us."
Imtithal frowns. "They shouldn't /know/, yet, should they?" She waves a hand at the barren sands around them. "No one within miles to see us, even now. Oh, certainly, if you ride into Chiaroscuro looking like that... they can hardly miss it..."
Sarye nods. "Not yet, but we have been selected, and I know my duty is to cleanse the holy places-- many of which are warded off or displaced by the Immaculates. I, at least, will come into conflict with them..." His voice softens, "And I sadly suspect this will bring some trouble down on you, as well. You may wish to use your armor to hide your identity. I..." He shrugs the golden shoulders of his armor. "I have this feeling my confrontations will be open."
Imtithal chuckles softly. "No one will identify me if I can help it," she says. "I still have my sister to look after, and my father's household to maintain." She shrugs. "Fortunately, that will be easier for me than for you."
Sarye nods. "It is how you have been made-- the purpose to which you have been reforged," Sarye says. "As for me--" He laughs again. "Poetry and storm, steel and song-- I cannot hide the light, nor would I, had I the opportunity."
Imtithal smiles dryly. "Perhaps you should meet your people alone, then," she suggests. "I would not burden them with me as well."
Sarye moves Corona closer to Imtithal, the sun glimmering off his powerful, glowing armor. "I think they will see you not as a burden, but a beacon," he assures.
Imtithal shakes her head. "If Immaculates will harass them to seek answers..." she says. Her horse snorts a little at the approach of the large predator, but Imtithal gentles him with a steady hand on his neck.
Sarye shrugs quietly. "The signs of the Sun are clear enough," he says gently. "Do not depart yourself from those who would give you aid; they will fight and fade into the desert, as has always been done."
Imtithal bows her head briefly. "They are your people, so I will take your word for it." She pats her horse again, the soft enchanted silk rustling around her. "I hate the idea of putting another robe over these," she sighs. "They are so much more lovely than any other I have."
Sarye says, "Their beauty is a compliment to the jewels of your eyes, Arrow of Night," cheerful as ever-- perhaps even more so, infected with he amazing feeling of his exaltation. "But subtlety has demands, sadly. Perhaps you could find other silks to match, and layer over the armor, to display beauty without revealing danger?"
Imtithal smiles at the complimenting, despite herself. "I will have to." She sighs slightly. "You know, this adventure has completely failed me in one aspect. I had hoped to get something worth salt and silver, but nothing we found could I bear to sell, save half a mare. And now I must purchase new silk robes as well." Her expression, despite that, is wryly amused. "Perhaps this other manse will have more worth selling."
Sarye waves his hand. "I have found more than I need in the armor. Keep the whole of the mare; what I bring to my people is a wonder that needs no other funding." He ponders. "You may not have gained immediate, fluid cash-- and perhaps down a bit to my family-- but you have gained power, and powerful artifacts," he points out. "Indeed, your beauty and your power are matched; though your eyes may stop hearts, they will perceive secrets that may earn you more profits than even silver, and your hands now wield power to melt dangers as your smiles once melted hearts. For example, there are fields that my people dare not travel, further south than even Gem, where there are entire crystal and gem _forests_, grown from the surface of the desert in the heat of Essence. They are guarded by strange beasts, it is said, made of living adamant. Perhaps we could hunt and gather down there." He strokes the hilt of the Singing Crystal Cutter and says, "I would be happy to lend my blade to such an expedition-- and to the chopping of ruby trees."
Imtithal smiles oddly. "Oh, I will find a way to make ends meet, I suppose. I may even have to actually learn a merchant's trade. At least now I need not worry about being forced into a marriage against my will. I dare say I could sabotage THAT idea pretty well. I am just observing the irony. It is not a bad irony. I would not trade this for a cache of easily spendable silver and jade."
Sarye laughs at the idea of anyone forcing Imtithal to a wedding she dislikes. "I would not like to see the results of that." His voice is still amused as he adds, "I suspect that the Khakhan, blessed of Heaven or no, may have been wrong on a few things involving women; after all, you were selected as the Arrow of the _Most_ High, his knife and scout," the young priest points out. "Perhaps it is time for a change in attitude."
Imtithal shrugs the idea off. "Or perhaps I am called to take a grey sash," she suggests in counter. "It is true that the customs regarding women can not be enforced on me, but in order for me to explain this to all of Chiaroscuro, so that people would stop trying, I would be forced to explain to far more people than would be wise the nature of the essence I now carry."
"Entirely up to you," Sarye says thoughtfully. "Only remember that the one who makes this decision is you, and you alone; if you choose to do so for deception, that is, of course, the prerogative of your Caste. But the Sun himself has accepted you as you are." He laughs again. "If it is as a brother you would have us find you, then rest assured, for all your fabled beauty, you will find the F'meeqi and I respect your decision there as well."
Imtithal shrugs. "For now, I think I would prefer to just be Imtithal," she says, wryly, and waves a hand. "I reserve the right to wear whatever disguise I need, but I would rather stir no more disturbance than I must, as I return to Chiaroscuro."
As Imtithal speaks, they can see little figures moving ahead on the sand; Sarye has led them to where he said he would meet his clan, and they appear to be there - and getting most agitated over Sarye's changed appearance.
Sarye turns to Imtithal and smiles. "I believe we should show them, Circle-sister," he says casually, though he can barely contain his glee... and as he folds back his helm's automatic faceplate, he alights with one mote of essence the solid golden circle that reveals him as a Zenith. He urges Corona to rear back, and he waves the brilliant orichalcum length of the Singing Crystal Cutter in salute to his kin.
"It would be a better idea not for me," Imtithal demurs. "Your people ride simhata."
There are no simhata visible ahead, but Imti would rather be cautious than offend Sarye's kin, since it seems she will be working with him longer. "And," she notes, with a smile in her voice - and on her face - it seems it is not just Corona who likes to show off.
The F'meeqi ahead recognize the simhata carrying the glorious golden warrior, and as they draw nearer, the five tribesmen - one a tribeswoman - are shouting and pointing at Sarye. One of them seems to be praying, arms waving at the sun; there's certainly a lot of enthusiasm, especially once Sarye's face can be seen.
"They know, Circle-sister; as I said-- they have a surprise for you. T'would be best to accept it as much you can." Sarye bows in response to her teasing, and then rides forward, vaulting from Corona's back to enthusiastically greet his folk, invoking ancient return from vision-quest. "We have seen the Eye of the Sun! His blessings are upon us-- are within us!" he exclaims, his body shining proof of that if nothing else.
Imtithal shrugs, and goes ahead as Sarye wishes, reigniting her caste mark with essence, the empty circle of the Night re-brightening to full on her forehead as she follows him more sedately up to slope to his people. For the sake of courtesy, she slips from her mount and bows to the gathered F'meeqi. She does not know these people, as Sarye does, and so she tries to stand awkwardly back and fade into his wake.
The five F'meeqi, particularly the priest, his veil embroidered in a similar fashion - though of course, not the -same- - to Sarye's, actually fall silent for a moment as Sarye dismounts. It only lasts a moment; they are not a subdued people, and the priest launches into a song praising the Unconquered Sun as soon as he recovers from the shock of confirmation.
There is, then, as the others recover as well, much shouting and dancing and asking of questions, of how and when and where. And no few of the questions are directed at Imtithal, not just Sarye, no matter what she MIGHT prefer.
Sarye launches into his own singing in reply; it's traditional for his people. It's not so much a duet or a duel as a harmonious conversation. Sarye does not let Imtithal melt completely; he freely praises her in his songs; while he put the demon out of harmony with the world, it was her arrows that struck down the true form and banished the neomah back to Malfeas.
Imtithal refuses to take credit for that; she does not know the harmonies or modes of his people's conversational songs, but she interjects her own comments about how the arrow was no longer hers -- spoken, alas.
The F'meeqi are /ecstatic/; this is the beginning of the fulfillment of their tales; though most of them realize how uncomfortable Imtithal is with the questioning and ask their questions of Sarye primarily.
Sarye answers enthusiastically, in song and spoken word, but at the end, he holds out his hand. "You must join us," he says, eyes dancing. "If you would retain friendship with us, the herds must be safe, after all!" His eyes dance over his veil, and it twitches in that smile of his. "The Tribe has a gift for you," he says, with a broad grin. "From what they tell me, you will like ... her."
Imtithal raises an eyebrow at him; but she's not stupid, and she does think fast on her feet. "You can not be /serious/," she says, but she knows he is, and she tosses the reins of her warhorse to a ground hitch - just resting on the sand, with a horse well enough trained to know that means he's not to move - and follows him.
The other F'meeqi laugh at her dubiousness - it's a joyful laugh, not a mocking laugh - and the herder runs ahead to go bring out the unbonded Simhata.
Sarye pats Imtithal with a clank of armor on armor, and his veil draws into what must be a continuous grin behind it. "Indeed. If you would be so kind, Iron Knife Which Strikes Unerring," he says as he bows, "And display your anima? In this manner, the tribe may be certain that one who is now kin-of-Essence will be safe among the cousins."
Imtithal sighs at Sarye's floridness, and burns a little more Essence to raise her anima banner to visibility. It's not a very sincere sigh, with a hint of amused exasperation. "I would not try to steal your herds," she protests. "I have manners!" Still, she understands their reasoning, and doesn't argue with the thaumaturge - apparently wife of one of the warriors, wryly comments that it wouldn't be her /trying/ that they would worry about.
The herder comes dancing back out from behind a sand dune, leading a simhata which is bucking around; it's hard to manage one of the lionhorses when you are not riding a simhata of your own, but the F'meeqi are experts in all aspects of Simhata management, if anyone is.
And then the restive beast calms, as she sees Imtithal, and runs free of her handler, towards the Night. There are cheers from the F'meeqi as they are privileged to watch for the first time in thousands of years a simhata bonding to the properly /intended/ sort of rider, not simply a mere dragon-blooded but one chosen by the Sun.
The leaping beast pauses before Imtithal, and lowers her front towards the sand in a half bow, front legs bent; Imtithal looks mildly floored. And then the simhata raises her head again and demandingly butts Imtithal in the chest.
Sarye smiles broadly and moves back a bit and reaches into the sack he has been carrying, pulling out some carefully salted meat. "Feed her," he urges. "The anima will start things, but it's best to continue on a good foot. And ask her name, it's just polite." He seems to be very much amused by the whole reactions-- and Corona's jealousy, since of course, _he_ wants the attention-- and the meat. Sarye staves off Corona with one hand and promises more food and petting, once Imti has taken the meat.
Imtithal accepts the hunk of meat and offers it to the demanding lionhorse, leaning forward as the greedy beast happily wolfs the snack - not the fresh meat needed for a mortal bonding, perhaps, but Imtithal is clearly no mortal anymore. "Aren't you lovely," she croons, a wide smile spreading across her own face as she admires the simhata.
Sarye grins broadly, watching with deep approval as he scritches Corona, whispering into the beast's ear and feeding him meat, assuring the proud lion-horse that Sarye still loves him, but reminds him that a bonding-time is important. And he also has some stern No Bothering words to apply too, of course. It's important for long runs.
Imtithal strokes the head and ears of the great beast, admiringly. All the simhata riders will observe that she is quite properly taken with her new mount, and after a minute or so of admiring the simhata, the new Night looks up and chuckles, and informs her audience, "Her name, apparently, is Aurora."
Sarye finishes off feeding Corona and laughs, waving to the tribe. "She's hooked, my brothers and sister, she's hooked." This seems to set off another blossom of cheering and singing, as Sarye vaults onto Corona once more, locking the helm back around his face. He turns to Imtithal and says, "You'd have to unmake yourself to get rid of us now. Aurora can carry you _anywhere_. You will see; there is nothing like it."
Imtithal raises an eyebrow, shaking the cloak that hangs from her shoulder, but only asks Sarye dryly, "Nothing?" Then she gives the Simhata a guilty look and apologizes. She turns to lead the simhata back to her poor warhorse, who hasn't completely accustomed to being around /one/ simhata; but there's nothing for it; the horses will have to follow the simhata, since Imtithal has every intention of riding Aurora now.
Even with the superior training of the warhorse, he dances back as she brings the unfamiliar predator up, and Imtithal pauses briefly to tell Aurora very sternly that the horses are not for eating, and she will hunt something nice and fresh and less /tough/ later.
As Imtithal is struggling to get the horses tied to lead behind the simhata, the other F'meeqi go to recover their mounts, now that their fragile mortal bonds are that much safer.
Sarye chuckles. "Be stern with her as you may; it will leave her less opportunities to play tricks." Corona chooses that moment to make an "innocent" rowl, which Sarye skeptically answers with, "Yes, I still blame you for the sheep stampede and the five soaked silk robes. You're just lucky the merchant liked cats, or you'd be a rug!" Corona does not seem particularly frightened of this threat and begins to romp ahead. "Once you have safely put the other two away, you _will_ see; flying is one thing, but riding simhataback is another!"
Imtithal rubs Aurora's ears as she manages to get the horses tied off, and mounts the simhata. "I suppose," she says with a chuckle. "Though I'm sure she's a perfect dear. Aren't you?" she asks her mount, who is doing a remarkably good innocent impression, for a gigantic predator.
The other F'meeqi, riding their own simhata, return from over a distant sand dune a moment later. As the horses react to Yet More Big Meat Eaters, Imtithal sighs and tells Sarye, "at least this way, I can visit your people without getting bucked off by a panicking beast." She's still obediently petting the simhata with one hand, since she doesn't need it for reins.
Sarye chuckles. "Indeed. And she will always guard your back, if you will let her. The simhata have a strength that is amazing when it is needed." He is amazingly proud of the entire breed, and of course, of Corona especially. "Actually, I suspect that if you let Aurora herd them a few times, they may get used to her, and draw some comfort from her. Then again, perhaps the mare can be sold easily and the talented elder let off to honorable retirement, yes?"
Imtithal chuckles. "Perhaps my sister will ride father's horse for a few years," she comments. "Or I might, in Chiaroscuro. Though Aurora is a far more lovely mount, I am afraid, my dear, you will still cause stirs at the shops I am accustomed to frequenting. But the mare, I will almost certainly sell. My father's house has only a small stables, and I do not know how we will fit lovely Aurora in as it is. Perhaps we can do something in the courtyard for you, if you promise not to scare the gardener too much." She's talking to the simhata as often as to Sarye.
Sarye taps a golden finger on his armored leg, and turns to the herder. "Jokeen?" The herder nods and smiles. "Before we take a-- ah, slight vacation from Chiaroscuro," the herder says, eyes dancing, "I might suggest a few improvements. Such a lovely lady is unlikely to run away, per se..." Jokeen rubs his own mare-lioness' neck, "But she may attempt to join you at inappropriate moments. You would be best to have reinforcements on the stall-- and perhaps knock down an adjoining stall to give her extra room to prowl."
Sarye turns to Imti and asks, "What -do- you plan in such matters? I, clearly, cannot enter the city as now; I believe I will aid my kinfolk in purifying the manse for now, but when shall we meet to find the heart for your hearthstone?"
Imti waves a hand. "I am, of course, a woman of idle means, at least until my father's money runs out. I should probably be seen about the proper districts of the city to allay any gossip about my running off with a F'meeqi tribesman, but a few days will suffice to convince everyone that I have not yet come to my senses and run away with the simhata herders." She gives her company a wry grin. "Though I imagine I will not leave them much LESS curious by riding one." She waves a hand. "I will meet you in a matter of days. I am very curious as to this other manse and the beast that lives there. And it may be wrong of me to muse on, but I must admit, I would like to try the flamepieces."
Sarye nods and raises his sword in salute to Imti, Corona rearing back without urging this time. "We split, then! Warriors, escort the Wolf of the Sun! Jokeen, aid her with construction! The rest, to me-- and to a temple in need of our aid!" So cries Sarye, and with another blur of golden motion, Corona peels off, the other simhata barely able to keep up with the racing lion-stallion. If Sarye does not say farewell, it is because he is sure they will meet again.
Imtithal raises up a little bit to wave to Sarye as he pulls away, then sinks back down onto her simhata's back. It has been a rather busy three days, and somehow, riding back to Chiaroscuro at this point does not feel much like a homecoming. She adjusts the hearthstone socket at the neck of her 'cloak', and sighs. "Very well," she says, "I apologize to you and your simhata that we can not ride faster, but the horses are weary already." She waves a hand back over her shoulder at the skittish lesser mounts. "And no, Aurora, you may NOT eat them. He was my /father's warhorse/," she says, a little grumpy.
The simhata dances a little in apology, and behaves as they ride on.
The F'meeqi accompanying Imtithal keep up a cheerful conversation, though the Solar riding with them is mostly silent, and only speaks occasionally; she's not unfriendly, but simply doesn't feel a need to interfere with their light discussion.
It is not until they are almost back to Chiaroscuro that one of the warriors pauses and looks back at Imtithal. "Your anima is completely quiescent," he comments.
Imtithal nods, curious as to the point.
"Your caste mark is still visible," he says, warningly. "Can you hide it?"
The two explorers - now Solars and rightful owners by all laws, of Heaven and the present society, of this manse and the land around it - have regarbed themselves in their various heavy and not-heavy armor. Needless to say, Imtithal is still gorgeous in the sweeping white silks; for now she is wearing the faceplate of the armor inside the chest-wrapping silk, rather than over her face. Their anima banners are still at full bonfire, from the expenditure needed to attune to so much gear at once.
In the clasp of the Wings, Imtithal found a roiling, fiery sphere, a hearthstone to a yet undiscovered manse. She has removed it from the Wings, and is poking at it.
The Solar fury of the central shaft of light has stabilized, no longer flaring as it did when Sol Invictus himself looked in, but still radiant and glorious, deep into the depths of the mesa. Now both are attuned to the manse, and the hearthstone is fully active in Sarye's armor.
Sarye is practicing with the Singing Crystal Cutter; he seems to enjoy its battlesong almost as much as his own. It certainly helps that the armor itself is incredibly responsive and agile, with onboard tactical spirit-matrices that help him plan out his every move. "Found any clues within the gem?" he asks of Imti after a while.
Imtithal shrugs slightly; she's currently sitting cross-legged with a roll of parchment in her lap and a quill. "Do you know much about geomancy?" she asks. "The manse to which this stone belongs is connected geomantically to the temple. I'm trying to figure out where the most optimal place for a fire manse would be in connection to this."
Sarye shakes his head wryly. "I am not very good at the technical aspects. I do know some local histories and songs, though, if you could tell me more about what sort of fire-aspected environment would produce it.
Imtithal nods, sketching another quick set of lines across the map. "The flows are all twisted here," she says. "Off kilter from the elemental poles, so we can't check due south, which would make sense normally. I think this stone is a Ruby of the Flame Dragon's Breath. I would expect the manse that produced it to have a lot of exposed flame, possibly volcanic activity, but there are no nearby active volcanos that I am aware of.
Sarye ponders that for a few moments, going over a few songs, even singing a few verses, in his head. Finally, he hits upon a "place where the earth breathes flame" that is protected by a "terrible beast," which brings unspecified doom to "all who brave the flame for power." "That," he says when he finishes, "Is the best that I can recall, I am afraid."
Imtithal tilts her head, listening. "Interesting," she says. "That would certainly be the right sort of place, though the beast in question would be an obstacle." She doesn't seem as worried about that idea as she probably would have the day before, but she's been through some changes in the last few hours. "Do you know where it would be? I'm trying to calculate the rate of twist in the local elemental aspecting so I can figure out where the local dragonlines believe the fire pole to be, but it's ...complicated." She smiles slightly, her eyes glowing lightly. "I would really like to find this manse and attune if possible. The hearthstone's power is to amplify flamepieces, if I have identified it correctly." She strokes one of the weapons at her side lightly.
Sarye thinks about it for a moment. "There's a series of volcanic ridges southwest, close to west, of here. It's got some bad areas with poisonous fumes and the like, so it is mostly avoided anyway. If there was a fire-manse that bloomed flame, and had not been recaptured-- there, I suspect, would be the place.
Imtithal frowns. "How far?" She pulls out the map. "I'm not familiar with anything like that on my father's land, but if it's not too far, it would be..." She smiles slightly. "The land has been in my family since we split from one of the larger families of the Radeen. In theory, we got the lesser lands. It is mostly 'useless' desert, but along the east and southeast, it borders the river, and there is good farmland there. It's been rented to the same families for at least 200 years now. Mind, I suspect even this manse alone makes a lie of the common wisdom that we took the least valuable property. If there is another..."
"It will be value of a different sort. This place is a fastness; it could hold my entire tribe, and I suspect your immediate family beside, if it came to a siege. Let us hope it does not." He ponders again. "I do not -think- there are any fortresses out there, that I have heard of. Volcanic vents make for good tunnels-- after the volcano has died," he says wryly. "If we go, there will be no skulking in corridors, at least. Just this nameless beast."
Imtithal shrugs. "I have only my sister," she says after a moment, her smile somewhat more peaceful than it could be. "My brother's wife. If there is room for a tribe, there would be room for her." She waves a hand vaguely around the room. "I do not expect the treasure trove this has been; this is clearly the master manse, but simply having the manses on land I own is valuable; no unknowing, mortal landowner to debate with about our access rights."
Sarye chuckles. "That will be an added benefit of having my kinsfolk on your lands. They come and they go, and will be willing to escort those who are peaceable and can pay for that escort with food along the way. There will be -no- trouble with raiders if the F'meeqi are regularly coming and going."
Imtithal gives Sarye a light smile. "I am sure my tenants will be alarmed if they notice herds of Simhata in their backyard, but I am also sure they can be reassured." She waves a hand, dismissing that as a concern.
"The worst, I suspect, will be showing off." He laughs. "I do not know which is worse-- the young men of our tribe, or the young simhata-- _both_ love to show off." He smiles again, still unveiled. "And mature simhata, like Corona... are no better, I am afraid."
Imtithal raises an eyebrow. "Speaking of simhata, perhaps you should go visit your showy friend," she suggests. "I will wait inside to be sure nothing untoward happens."
Sarye smiles, and bows extravagantly in his new, glittering armor. He'll wear the veil beneath once he puts the helm on, but for now, he remains open and honest with his circlesister. "Indeed. Given how radiant we both are now... and how loudly he snores, lady, if you have not grown up with him, I would stuff your ears if you were the first!" he says cheerfully, and begins picking up the helmet. "I understand the rite here now, and we are attuned," he says, putting on the helm; his voice is clear and natural through its blue jade repeaters. "We should probably leave-- I have already sent a prayer-wing to my brothers and sisters; they will meet us on your border for speech and the formal permissions." He chuckles quietly. "On foot at first, though; they have a surprise waiting."
Imtithal nods. "Should we take the short way down?" she asks, grinning widely as the cloak's broad wings unfold from her back - and at least this time, her anima grows no brighter, as she uses personal. "I do want to test my wings." There's a note of longing to it.
Sarye's eyes may be invisible, but his voice carries delight as he replies, "Certainly!" His agreement is near total. "I would love to get the chance to fly!"
Imtithal grins and reaches for his hands. "Hang on," she says, getting a good grasp on his sides. "Not that you couldn't probably jump down just fine." She makes a couple experimental beats with the wings, stirring the air around them and creating swirling eddies in the column of solar light that serves as the heart of the manse, then with a shout of pure joy, leaps up, soaring upward first, the heavy wings beating slowly, before turning and diving at breakneck speed but completely under control towards the bottom of the shaft, hidden in light.
Sarye gives a happy cry as they leap, enjoying the sensation of both the solar energies flowing through them, and the amazing sensation of leaving gravity behind for a while. "This is something to be enjoyed on every occasion! You have won out in the manner of secondary accouterments, I fear!--" not that he would trade his thunderbolt shield for the wings, but this is, indeed, amazing.
Imtithal laughs as she snaps her wings down, slowing their descent. "I am just as glad I have no use for a shield," she agrees, bringing them to a hovering pause at the bottom of the shaft; there is no obvious way into the spiral from here currently open, but the crudely bricked over windows that open onto every room -are- obvious. "Kick one of those out," she suggests. "It's probably easier from in here than from the outer rooms." She flies him closer to the lowest set.
Sarye casually spins, using the armor's elevated strength and speed to work up momentum, twisting around in Imti's arms to bring his leverage to bear precisely-- and shattering the bricks without harming the substance of the Manse, though the ancient structure is immensely strong, and probably proof against such things.
The bricks shatter out in a spray across the broken and barren room; the first room they entered and spent so long cleaning is beneath them, and Imtithal soars out into it. It is no longer dark - lit both by their still active animas, and the golden light coming through the now open window, pure sunlight even in the depths of the mesa. The crystals overhead are now visible to both, and both know the minor ritual to activate them when they want, but do not need to.
Imtithal slowly spirals down the floor and sets Sarye down on the ground. "We'll have to get a lot more of those windows open eventually," she says.
From here they can see the vast doors at the lowest end of the room which would have once opened to welcome worshippers, but they are old and long disused; the side portal they entered from is all they truly need. Imtithal waves a hand vaguely at Sarye. "I'll try to get another one pried open while you're out there. Come back when everything's take care of." She's not taking any risks with stealing Corona from him.
Sarye performs another one of his leaping flips, casually hopping out through the window. The Manse is active now, and he must pass through the force-screens of Solar energies, but he is recognized, as part of those patterns as much as the hearthstone that powers his brilliant armor. There is a rather cranky yowl from from below, followed by a series of whinnies as Sarye hits the ground with a loud thud, startling the trio of mounts. Eventually, though, there is a silence, as even the horses recognize the new bonding.
Sarye activates his helmet's control, letting both the brilliance of his caste mark, and the familiarity of his face and scent, come out to his beast. The man barely avoids weeping as he can feel the bond not only renewed with his energetic mount, but redoubled, the energy pouring through both. Corona feels content-- right-- as few of his kind have for generations, and as they hug and snuggle, the purring is loud enough to shake the manse!
Imtithal, waiting inside, is taking no risks with interrupting the bonding before it's complete; she takes a piece of twisted metal from the rubble and begins prying the rapidly crumbling bricks out of other of the openings towards the hearthroom.
Sarye calls out to Imtithal, "Heyla! Let us away; all is well!'
Imtithal chuckles and flies out herself. Reluctantly, she swoops down to rest next to her skittish warhorse, chuckling gently to him. "There, my pretty," she says. "It's just me. Good boy."
She pats him on the nose, the wings folding back down to a cape flowing behind her, and swings herself back up on his back easily. "There you go," she croons, gently, reassuring her mount.
The mare is tied to Imtithal's warhorse with a long lead, and Corona is more than ready. Sarye slings the Singing Crystal Cutter across his back-- unlike his scimitar, which is carefully bundled in his equipment for infiltration, if such be necessary, he can't wear the Cutter at his hip-- and nods to Imtithal, ready for the ride.
Imtithal glances over at Sarye. "What direction do we ride to meet your clan?" she asks, gently patting the warhorse's neck; the poor beast has mostly calmed under her confident handling.
"Back west, and north a ways, off the road for now." He chuckles. "I have learnt a new trick," he tells her. "Look at the desert where Corona passes." And indeed, there are no tracks at all, for Corona is padding over the sand almost as though he has not touched it at all. "This Zenith being-- it is most convenient!"
Imtithal's eyebrows rise. "I am impressed," she says, and laughs slightly. "I could do something similar, of course, but it would be much more obvious, and require me to leave my poor horse behind." She smiles wryly. "Poor thing."
Sarye laughs, but sobers quickly. "We will have to guard ourselves carefully-- I do not know how to banish this armor to Elsewhere; you may have to be our representative in the city-- subtle and quick as Night," he says with a nod.
Imtithal smiles wryly. "Is it even a good idea to tell YOUR clan?" she asks, quietly. Trusting his answer, but unsure. "I know your people have, umm. An open mind on the subject? But..."
Sarye laughs again, growing calmer. "We have waited for the return of the Solars for millenia; since before the Khakhan gathered the tribes and set down the great laws," he explains. "They will help us..." his voice grows troubled again, "But I suspect that the tribe will be absent, save those sworn to the Tri-Khan's family, from Chiaroscuro for a while. Many may take shelter within the Manse, as well; the Immaculates may seek to fall on us."
Imtithal frowns. "They shouldn't /know/, yet, should they?" She waves a hand at the barren sands around them. "No one within miles to see us, even now. Oh, certainly, if you ride into Chiaroscuro looking like that... they can hardly miss it..."
Sarye nods. "Not yet, but we have been selected, and I know my duty is to cleanse the holy places-- many of which are warded off or displaced by the Immaculates. I, at least, will come into conflict with them..." His voice softens, "And I sadly suspect this will bring some trouble down on you, as well. You may wish to use your armor to hide your identity. I..." He shrugs the golden shoulders of his armor. "I have this feeling my confrontations will be open."
Imtithal chuckles softly. "No one will identify me if I can help it," she says. "I still have my sister to look after, and my father's household to maintain." She shrugs. "Fortunately, that will be easier for me than for you."
Sarye nods. "It is how you have been made-- the purpose to which you have been reforged," Sarye says. "As for me--" He laughs again. "Poetry and storm, steel and song-- I cannot hide the light, nor would I, had I the opportunity."
Imtithal smiles dryly. "Perhaps you should meet your people alone, then," she suggests. "I would not burden them with me as well."
Sarye moves Corona closer to Imtithal, the sun glimmering off his powerful, glowing armor. "I think they will see you not as a burden, but a beacon," he assures.
Imtithal shakes her head. "If Immaculates will harass them to seek answers..." she says. Her horse snorts a little at the approach of the large predator, but Imtithal gentles him with a steady hand on his neck.
Sarye shrugs quietly. "The signs of the Sun are clear enough," he says gently. "Do not depart yourself from those who would give you aid; they will fight and fade into the desert, as has always been done."
Imtithal bows her head briefly. "They are your people, so I will take your word for it." She pats her horse again, the soft enchanted silk rustling around her. "I hate the idea of putting another robe over these," she sighs. "They are so much more lovely than any other I have."
Sarye says, "Their beauty is a compliment to the jewels of your eyes, Arrow of Night," cheerful as ever-- perhaps even more so, infected with he amazing feeling of his exaltation. "But subtlety has demands, sadly. Perhaps you could find other silks to match, and layer over the armor, to display beauty without revealing danger?"
Imtithal smiles at the complimenting, despite herself. "I will have to." She sighs slightly. "You know, this adventure has completely failed me in one aspect. I had hoped to get something worth salt and silver, but nothing we found could I bear to sell, save half a mare. And now I must purchase new silk robes as well." Her expression, despite that, is wryly amused. "Perhaps this other manse will have more worth selling."
Sarye waves his hand. "I have found more than I need in the armor. Keep the whole of the mare; what I bring to my people is a wonder that needs no other funding." He ponders. "You may not have gained immediate, fluid cash-- and perhaps down a bit to my family-- but you have gained power, and powerful artifacts," he points out. "Indeed, your beauty and your power are matched; though your eyes may stop hearts, they will perceive secrets that may earn you more profits than even silver, and your hands now wield power to melt dangers as your smiles once melted hearts. For example, there are fields that my people dare not travel, further south than even Gem, where there are entire crystal and gem _forests_, grown from the surface of the desert in the heat of Essence. They are guarded by strange beasts, it is said, made of living adamant. Perhaps we could hunt and gather down there." He strokes the hilt of the Singing Crystal Cutter and says, "I would be happy to lend my blade to such an expedition-- and to the chopping of ruby trees."
Imtithal smiles oddly. "Oh, I will find a way to make ends meet, I suppose. I may even have to actually learn a merchant's trade. At least now I need not worry about being forced into a marriage against my will. I dare say I could sabotage THAT idea pretty well. I am just observing the irony. It is not a bad irony. I would not trade this for a cache of easily spendable silver and jade."
Sarye laughs at the idea of anyone forcing Imtithal to a wedding she dislikes. "I would not like to see the results of that." His voice is still amused as he adds, "I suspect that the Khakhan, blessed of Heaven or no, may have been wrong on a few things involving women; after all, you were selected as the Arrow of the _Most_ High, his knife and scout," the young priest points out. "Perhaps it is time for a change in attitude."
Imtithal shrugs the idea off. "Or perhaps I am called to take a grey sash," she suggests in counter. "It is true that the customs regarding women can not be enforced on me, but in order for me to explain this to all of Chiaroscuro, so that people would stop trying, I would be forced to explain to far more people than would be wise the nature of the essence I now carry."
"Entirely up to you," Sarye says thoughtfully. "Only remember that the one who makes this decision is you, and you alone; if you choose to do so for deception, that is, of course, the prerogative of your Caste. But the Sun himself has accepted you as you are." He laughs again. "If it is as a brother you would have us find you, then rest assured, for all your fabled beauty, you will find the F'meeqi and I respect your decision there as well."
Imtithal shrugs. "For now, I think I would prefer to just be Imtithal," she says, wryly, and waves a hand. "I reserve the right to wear whatever disguise I need, but I would rather stir no more disturbance than I must, as I return to Chiaroscuro."
As Imtithal speaks, they can see little figures moving ahead on the sand; Sarye has led them to where he said he would meet his clan, and they appear to be there - and getting most agitated over Sarye's changed appearance.
Sarye turns to Imtithal and smiles. "I believe we should show them, Circle-sister," he says casually, though he can barely contain his glee... and as he folds back his helm's automatic faceplate, he alights with one mote of essence the solid golden circle that reveals him as a Zenith. He urges Corona to rear back, and he waves the brilliant orichalcum length of the Singing Crystal Cutter in salute to his kin.
"It would be a better idea not for me," Imtithal demurs. "Your people ride simhata."
There are no simhata visible ahead, but Imti would rather be cautious than offend Sarye's kin, since it seems she will be working with him longer. "And," she notes, with a smile in her voice - and on her face - it seems it is not just Corona who likes to show off.
The F'meeqi ahead recognize the simhata carrying the glorious golden warrior, and as they draw nearer, the five tribesmen - one a tribeswoman - are shouting and pointing at Sarye. One of them seems to be praying, arms waving at the sun; there's certainly a lot of enthusiasm, especially once Sarye's face can be seen.
"They know, Circle-sister; as I said-- they have a surprise for you. T'would be best to accept it as much you can." Sarye bows in response to her teasing, and then rides forward, vaulting from Corona's back to enthusiastically greet his folk, invoking ancient return from vision-quest. "We have seen the Eye of the Sun! His blessings are upon us-- are within us!" he exclaims, his body shining proof of that if nothing else.
Imtithal shrugs, and goes ahead as Sarye wishes, reigniting her caste mark with essence, the empty circle of the Night re-brightening to full on her forehead as she follows him more sedately up to slope to his people. For the sake of courtesy, she slips from her mount and bows to the gathered F'meeqi. She does not know these people, as Sarye does, and so she tries to stand awkwardly back and fade into his wake.
The five F'meeqi, particularly the priest, his veil embroidered in a similar fashion - though of course, not the -same- - to Sarye's, actually fall silent for a moment as Sarye dismounts. It only lasts a moment; they are not a subdued people, and the priest launches into a song praising the Unconquered Sun as soon as he recovers from the shock of confirmation.
There is, then, as the others recover as well, much shouting and dancing and asking of questions, of how and when and where. And no few of the questions are directed at Imtithal, not just Sarye, no matter what she MIGHT prefer.
Sarye launches into his own singing in reply; it's traditional for his people. It's not so much a duet or a duel as a harmonious conversation. Sarye does not let Imtithal melt completely; he freely praises her in his songs; while he put the demon out of harmony with the world, it was her arrows that struck down the true form and banished the neomah back to Malfeas.
Imtithal refuses to take credit for that; she does not know the harmonies or modes of his people's conversational songs, but she interjects her own comments about how the arrow was no longer hers -- spoken, alas.
The F'meeqi are /ecstatic/; this is the beginning of the fulfillment of their tales; though most of them realize how uncomfortable Imtithal is with the questioning and ask their questions of Sarye primarily.
Sarye answers enthusiastically, in song and spoken word, but at the end, he holds out his hand. "You must join us," he says, eyes dancing. "If you would retain friendship with us, the herds must be safe, after all!" His eyes dance over his veil, and it twitches in that smile of his. "The Tribe has a gift for you," he says, with a broad grin. "From what they tell me, you will like ... her."
Imtithal raises an eyebrow at him; but she's not stupid, and she does think fast on her feet. "You can not be /serious/," she says, but she knows he is, and she tosses the reins of her warhorse to a ground hitch - just resting on the sand, with a horse well enough trained to know that means he's not to move - and follows him.
The other F'meeqi laugh at her dubiousness - it's a joyful laugh, not a mocking laugh - and the herder runs ahead to go bring out the unbonded Simhata.
Sarye pats Imtithal with a clank of armor on armor, and his veil draws into what must be a continuous grin behind it. "Indeed. If you would be so kind, Iron Knife Which Strikes Unerring," he says as he bows, "And display your anima? In this manner, the tribe may be certain that one who is now kin-of-Essence will be safe among the cousins."
Imtithal sighs at Sarye's floridness, and burns a little more Essence to raise her anima banner to visibility. It's not a very sincere sigh, with a hint of amused exasperation. "I would not try to steal your herds," she protests. "I have manners!" Still, she understands their reasoning, and doesn't argue with the thaumaturge - apparently wife of one of the warriors, wryly comments that it wouldn't be her /trying/ that they would worry about.
The herder comes dancing back out from behind a sand dune, leading a simhata which is bucking around; it's hard to manage one of the lionhorses when you are not riding a simhata of your own, but the F'meeqi are experts in all aspects of Simhata management, if anyone is.
And then the restive beast calms, as she sees Imtithal, and runs free of her handler, towards the Night. There are cheers from the F'meeqi as they are privileged to watch for the first time in thousands of years a simhata bonding to the properly /intended/ sort of rider, not simply a mere dragon-blooded but one chosen by the Sun.
The leaping beast pauses before Imtithal, and lowers her front towards the sand in a half bow, front legs bent; Imtithal looks mildly floored. And then the simhata raises her head again and demandingly butts Imtithal in the chest.
Sarye smiles broadly and moves back a bit and reaches into the sack he has been carrying, pulling out some carefully salted meat. "Feed her," he urges. "The anima will start things, but it's best to continue on a good foot. And ask her name, it's just polite." He seems to be very much amused by the whole reactions-- and Corona's jealousy, since of course, _he_ wants the attention-- and the meat. Sarye staves off Corona with one hand and promises more food and petting, once Imti has taken the meat.
Imtithal accepts the hunk of meat and offers it to the demanding lionhorse, leaning forward as the greedy beast happily wolfs the snack - not the fresh meat needed for a mortal bonding, perhaps, but Imtithal is clearly no mortal anymore. "Aren't you lovely," she croons, a wide smile spreading across her own face as she admires the simhata.
Sarye grins broadly, watching with deep approval as he scritches Corona, whispering into the beast's ear and feeding him meat, assuring the proud lion-horse that Sarye still loves him, but reminds him that a bonding-time is important. And he also has some stern No Bothering words to apply too, of course. It's important for long runs.
Imtithal strokes the head and ears of the great beast, admiringly. All the simhata riders will observe that she is quite properly taken with her new mount, and after a minute or so of admiring the simhata, the new Night looks up and chuckles, and informs her audience, "Her name, apparently, is Aurora."
Sarye finishes off feeding Corona and laughs, waving to the tribe. "She's hooked, my brothers and sister, she's hooked." This seems to set off another blossom of cheering and singing, as Sarye vaults onto Corona once more, locking the helm back around his face. He turns to Imtithal and says, "You'd have to unmake yourself to get rid of us now. Aurora can carry you _anywhere_. You will see; there is nothing like it."
Imtithal raises an eyebrow, shaking the cloak that hangs from her shoulder, but only asks Sarye dryly, "Nothing?" Then she gives the Simhata a guilty look and apologizes. She turns to lead the simhata back to her poor warhorse, who hasn't completely accustomed to being around /one/ simhata; but there's nothing for it; the horses will have to follow the simhata, since Imtithal has every intention of riding Aurora now.
Even with the superior training of the warhorse, he dances back as she brings the unfamiliar predator up, and Imtithal pauses briefly to tell Aurora very sternly that the horses are not for eating, and she will hunt something nice and fresh and less /tough/ later.
As Imtithal is struggling to get the horses tied to lead behind the simhata, the other F'meeqi go to recover their mounts, now that their fragile mortal bonds are that much safer.
Sarye chuckles. "Be stern with her as you may; it will leave her less opportunities to play tricks." Corona chooses that moment to make an "innocent" rowl, which Sarye skeptically answers with, "Yes, I still blame you for the sheep stampede and the five soaked silk robes. You're just lucky the merchant liked cats, or you'd be a rug!" Corona does not seem particularly frightened of this threat and begins to romp ahead. "Once you have safely put the other two away, you _will_ see; flying is one thing, but riding simhataback is another!"
Imtithal rubs Aurora's ears as she manages to get the horses tied off, and mounts the simhata. "I suppose," she says with a chuckle. "Though I'm sure she's a perfect dear. Aren't you?" she asks her mount, who is doing a remarkably good innocent impression, for a gigantic predator.
The other F'meeqi, riding their own simhata, return from over a distant sand dune a moment later. As the horses react to Yet More Big Meat Eaters, Imtithal sighs and tells Sarye, "at least this way, I can visit your people without getting bucked off by a panicking beast." She's still obediently petting the simhata with one hand, since she doesn't need it for reins.
Sarye chuckles. "Indeed. And she will always guard your back, if you will let her. The simhata have a strength that is amazing when it is needed." He is amazingly proud of the entire breed, and of course, of Corona especially. "Actually, I suspect that if you let Aurora herd them a few times, they may get used to her, and draw some comfort from her. Then again, perhaps the mare can be sold easily and the talented elder let off to honorable retirement, yes?"
Imtithal chuckles. "Perhaps my sister will ride father's horse for a few years," she comments. "Or I might, in Chiaroscuro. Though Aurora is a far more lovely mount, I am afraid, my dear, you will still cause stirs at the shops I am accustomed to frequenting. But the mare, I will almost certainly sell. My father's house has only a small stables, and I do not know how we will fit lovely Aurora in as it is. Perhaps we can do something in the courtyard for you, if you promise not to scare the gardener too much." She's talking to the simhata as often as to Sarye.
Sarye taps a golden finger on his armored leg, and turns to the herder. "Jokeen?" The herder nods and smiles. "Before we take a-- ah, slight vacation from Chiaroscuro," the herder says, eyes dancing, "I might suggest a few improvements. Such a lovely lady is unlikely to run away, per se..." Jokeen rubs his own mare-lioness' neck, "But she may attempt to join you at inappropriate moments. You would be best to have reinforcements on the stall-- and perhaps knock down an adjoining stall to give her extra room to prowl."
Sarye turns to Imti and asks, "What -do- you plan in such matters? I, clearly, cannot enter the city as now; I believe I will aid my kinfolk in purifying the manse for now, but when shall we meet to find the heart for your hearthstone?"
Imti waves a hand. "I am, of course, a woman of idle means, at least until my father's money runs out. I should probably be seen about the proper districts of the city to allay any gossip about my running off with a F'meeqi tribesman, but a few days will suffice to convince everyone that I have not yet come to my senses and run away with the simhata herders." She gives her company a wry grin. "Though I imagine I will not leave them much LESS curious by riding one." She waves a hand. "I will meet you in a matter of days. I am very curious as to this other manse and the beast that lives there. And it may be wrong of me to muse on, but I must admit, I would like to try the flamepieces."
Sarye nods and raises his sword in salute to Imti, Corona rearing back without urging this time. "We split, then! Warriors, escort the Wolf of the Sun! Jokeen, aid her with construction! The rest, to me-- and to a temple in need of our aid!" So cries Sarye, and with another blur of golden motion, Corona peels off, the other simhata barely able to keep up with the racing lion-stallion. If Sarye does not say farewell, it is because he is sure they will meet again.
Imtithal raises up a little bit to wave to Sarye as he pulls away, then sinks back down onto her simhata's back. It has been a rather busy three days, and somehow, riding back to Chiaroscuro at this point does not feel much like a homecoming. She adjusts the hearthstone socket at the neck of her 'cloak', and sighs. "Very well," she says, "I apologize to you and your simhata that we can not ride faster, but the horses are weary already." She waves a hand back over her shoulder at the skittish lesser mounts. "And no, Aurora, you may NOT eat them. He was my /father's warhorse/," she says, a little grumpy.
The simhata dances a little in apology, and behaves as they ride on.
The F'meeqi accompanying Imtithal keep up a cheerful conversation, though the Solar riding with them is mostly silent, and only speaks occasionally; she's not unfriendly, but simply doesn't feel a need to interfere with their light discussion.
It is not until they are almost back to Chiaroscuro that one of the warriors pauses and looks back at Imtithal. "Your anima is completely quiescent," he comments.
Imtithal nods, curious as to the point.
"Your caste mark is still visible," he says, warningly. "Can you hide it?"
