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<blockquote data-quote="Sepulchrave II" data-source="post: 5785413" data-attributes="member: 4303"><p><strong>Day 3 – Rest</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: You should be working.</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: I am taking a break; my head is full of iterated functions and I cannot concentrate.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: You are looking at motes, Mostin. That hardly qualifies as relaxation.</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: It is for me. Look [here] and [here] and [here].</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: You will need to decipher for me. My Motish is rusty.</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: There are two sets of exclusory paradoxes relating to Eadric.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: This [here] is Shomei?</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: Yes. Notice that all sixteen remaining infernal seraphs are now bound to her mote; sixty other once-episemes; almost a thousand exemplars. No force of this power has ever before been assembled by a mage; nor yet a cabal. Nor one of this concentration even <em>deployed</em> since the Fall – if then.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu] (Impressed): How?</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: I should mention that this is three days hence, not <em>now</em>. Regardless, her valent capacity for conjurations is prodigious.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: Her mote is in tight resonance with Eadric.</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: Their dance is subtle, and many layered; there are elements which are antagonistic, amative, paternal, mutually didactic, dominating, religious and companionable. The relationship is complex.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: <em>All</em> relationship is complex, Mostin; that is why sensible wizards avoid it. I assume that this dark, brooding bomb-beneath-a-blanket is Soneillon? There is a field of blackness behind her.</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: That is the Shadow of Cheshne. And this hungry node of void is Carasch.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: Demonstrate your paradoxes.</p><p></p><p>Mostin stabilized the resonance between Shomei and the <em>Ahma</em>, and progressed the <em>Web of Motes</em> accordingly; the numerous devil-motes in her vicinity began to flicker and slowly fade.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: That would seem to be…</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: Wait.</p><p></p><p>The darkness behind Soneillon’s mote seemed to crystallize through it; hundreds of motes began to vanish. A tide which swept through the <em>Web</em> extinguishing everything. Only one mote – that of Nehael – remained.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: That future would be best avoided.</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: Here is another.</p><p></p><p>Shomei’s mote was transfixed. The darkness receded, but the devil-motes began to disperse and recombine, forming new resonances and extending outwards in a net which permeated the entire <em>Web</em>. Tension increased, until motes began to crash into one another.</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: That was a hypothetical war, fought between Yeqon and his devilish <em>saizhan</em>-advocates, and the Antagonist Armaros; both of these infernal seraphim are currently beneath Shomei’s thumb. If I <em>bind</em> her, they will factionalize and attempt to assert themselves as soon as their compacts come to term.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: Reverse the <em>Web</em>. Do not allow the compacts to expire, and assume only a brief <em>binding</em> of Shomei.</p><p></p><p>He did. Shomei’s mote erupted, and drove toward Soneillon; those of the fallen episemes detonated spectacularly around her. Futures began to bifurcate rapidly; Mostin held Shomei to a tight course, and Soneillon’s mote vanished, and then reappeared. Shomei acquired new intensity and plunged immediately toward an energetic mote of deep jade, impacting it and shattering it.</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: This is a typical catenary. If she can gain the <em>Urn</em>, her mastery of Hummaz is all but guaranteed, and she knows it. Her Fire is only half-actualized at present; if she can further unlock the <em>Antinomos</em>, Shomei will be unstoppable. </p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: Before or after Hummaz?</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: <em>Before</em>, with the help of the <em>Urn</em>. </p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: And what is [<em>this?</em>]</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: It is an anomalous catenary.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: Progress it.</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: [Here]. It does not lead anywhere. It is inert.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: Progress it further.</p><p></p><p>Resolution. Shomei’s mote pulsed, and expanded. It shone steadily: an isolated monad, around which a bright corona formed. It regarded those in her vicinity benignly. </p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: What is it?</p><p></p><p>[Mostin]: <em>Perfection</em>. A complete integration of her Flame.</p><p></p><p>It did not move, but the significator for Hummaz – seemingly magnetized – migrated and was drawn into orbit around Shomei’s lambency; its revolutions slowly deteriorated until it was silently absorbed. </p><p></p><p>Motes exploded in a million directions as thought and color surged toward Mostin, shattering his inner vision and challenging the foundation of his prescience. A vibration of utter, draconic, profundity.</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: Mostin?</p><p></p><p>…</p><p></p><p>[Mulissu]: Mostin…?</p><p></p><p>[Mostin] (Wrily): That was the Aeon. It just reminded me that it knows I am looking.</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>Ortwine collapsed onto the ground. She was covered in blood and guts. Nwm looked at her approvingly.</p><p></p><p>“You have done good work, Ortwine,” the Preceptor nodded. “How many times did you die?”</p><p></p><p>“Only twice,” Ortwine grunted. “I feel I did well; my instinct for self-preservation must be better honed than that of Teppu. <em>Narh</em> died nine times; he doesn’t seem to care: he just <em>keeps going</em>. Nehael turns animals into suicidal fanatics, although I think that he may be like that normally.”</p><p></p><p>“And you?”</p><p></p><p>Ortwine nodded. “Her presence is exhilarating; it cannot be denied.”</p><p></p><p>“If the fear of death is removed, it is remarkable what can be accomplished.”</p><p></p><p>“Empty words, Nwm,” Ortwine shook her head. “The fear of <em>pain</em> remains. And Nwm, for pity’s sake: I am a queen and a goddess. Can we have no better accommodations than this wet earth?”</p><p></p><p>“If you wish for something more comfortable, you will need to find a wizard.”</p><p></p><p>“It does not have to be <em>lavish</em>, Nwm. Just <em>something</em>.”</p><p></p><p>Nwm gestured, and wood flew together to form a small, crude hut, open on one side which faced the fire.</p><p></p><p>“Bed?” Ortwine asked.</p><p></p><p>Nwm shook his head.</p><p></p><p>“Moss?” Ortwine asked.</p><p></p><p>Nwm nodded. A cradle of soft moss grew within the shelter.</p><p></p><p>“Adequate,” Ortwine crawled into it. “And where <em>are</em> the wizards? Where is Mostin? And I thought the Academy were supposed to be more <em>invested</em> in events now?”</p><p></p><p>“Shomei’s actions have them in a fluster,” Nwm replied. “They are fragmented and nervous. Mostin is preoccupied with his work.”</p><p></p><p>“What <em>work</em>?”</p><p></p><p>“I believe a conjuration of some kind,” Nwm smiled.</p><p></p><p>“Another terrible beast?”</p><p></p><p>“Doubtless,” Nwm nodded. </p><p></p><p>“And your own preparations for defense?” Ortwine asked. “Have you accomplished anything <em>worthy</em>?”</p><p></p><p>“That remains to be tested,” Nwm sighed. “We are stacking spells as fast as we can – which is slowly – but, frankly, everyone is empty. And if the Fourth Effluxion can bring all of the remaining Cheshnite ritual power to bear, she will likely smash the net like so many eggshells.”</p><p></p><p>“If?” Ortwine inquired.</p><p></p><p>“She may not be <em>predisposed</em> toward ritual magic. One of the other immortals may need to take the lead in directing the cabals against our countermagicks; this would work in our favor. If she can focus them through herself, her assault will be powerful.”</p><p></p><p>“You cannot determine which?”</p><p></p><p>Nwm shook his head. “Her obfuscations are difficult to pierce; she seems opaque to most divinations, and only so much energy can be directed to trying to penetrate them.”</p><p></p><p>Ortwine groaned. “My suspicions are not good, Nwm. Still, I suppose a spell which counters a spell, is one less spell which burns a swathe of people.”</p><p></p><p>“That is my philosophy also,” Nwm nodded.</p><p></p><p>“She burns very hot, Nwm.”</p><p></p><p>“You encountered her then?”</p><p></p><p>“Twice,” Ortwine nodded. She fell asleep.</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>Shomei struggled with difficulty to regain consciousness, and stared across the room from beneath her robe. Narcoma still clung to her.</p><p></p><p>“Thank-you for not snapping my neck, <em>Ahma</em>,” she remarked sleepily. “I was not sure if your word was binding, if offered to fiends.”</p><p></p><p>“It is not,” Eadric was laconic. He approached her and regarded her.</p><p></p><p>She seemed tiny. He knew that she was still vulnerable: her reservoir was depleted; almost all of her valences unoccupied. She had allowed her most potent wards to expire, for the purpose of more conjurations. He wondered how many <em>superior planar bindings</em> she was capable of in the course of a day, now that her Fire had ignited.</p><p></p><p>“Technically, one hundred and thirty-three,” she replied lazily and unexpectedly to the unasked question. “Although even I am not so dedicated. And I did not realize that my valent condition was so apparent to you.”</p><p></p><p>“Your thoughts are undisciplined when you drink too much <em>kasshiv</em>,” he observed. “And your mind makes connection without your volition.”</p><p></p><p>She briefly lifted her head. “I do believe that your pronunciation of that word is an affectation, <em>Ahma</em>. Speaking of; do you mind…?” She pointed at the cabinet where the <em>kschiff</em> was kept.</p><p></p><p>“I merely emphasize its proper ritual purpose.” He retrieved another flask and filled her glass to the brim. “Which you might remember, from time to time.”</p><p></p><p>Shomei drank deeply, smiled, replaced her glass, and shifted her position. “There are no dreams here, <em>Ahma</em>. Its effects are purely soporific. We all need a little oblivion, now and then; something I’m sure you can appreciate.”</p><p></p><p>“How was your book?” He asked.</p><p></p><p>“Complicated.” She furrowed her brow. </p><p></p><p>“It seemed to evoke an emotional response,” Eadric remarked.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, <em>Ahma</em>; I am capable of them.”</p><p></p><p>“Can you readily communicate its contents? Even in the broadest terms?”</p><p></p><p>“It would be difficult,” she sighed, closing her eyes again. “It would require that you are familiar with a sevenfold hermeneutic; unfortunately, the Infernal Septiga takes some time to master.”</p><p></p><p>“I feel you are being evasive, Shomei.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, <em>Ahma</em>,” she yawned. </p><p></p><p>“Should I assume that some personal article was touched?”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know, <em>Ahma</em>.” She raised an eyebrow with effort. “Would you care to talk about the totality of your experience with Soneillon?”</p><p></p><p>“I am not sure that that would be appropriate.”</p><p></p><p>“Because it is deeply intimate, or because you feel it would leave you open to subsequent manipulation?” She asked drowsily.</p><p></p><p>“Point taken,” he replied.</p><p></p><p>“Perhaps I will speak again later; when my guard is not so low, and I have had time to consider.”</p><p></p><p>“That seems only reasonable,” he conceded.</p><p></p><p>“And then, so can you,” she mumbled and smiled.</p><p></p><p>“Unfortunately, that seems equally reasonable.”</p><p></p><p>“I am sorry for your confinement, <em>Ahma</em>. And I have been rude; given no thought to your need for space. I will do something…” Her cogency was beginning to leave her.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t mention it,” he replied drily</p><p></p><p>“And thank-you again for not <em>killing</em> me, <em>Ahma</em>,” she muttered.</p><p></p><p>“I thought about it,” Eadric sighed.</p><p></p><p>“I know.” She reached up, fumbled, and patted his hand.</p><p></p><p>Shomei returned to sleep.</p><p></p><p>Eadric shook his head and opened the cabinet where his host-cum-gaoler kept a plentiful supply of <em>kschiff</em> and other beverages. He sniffed a number of them – some seemed even more dubious than Shomei’s drink of preference – before settling upon a bottle of Bedeshi brandy. </p><p></p><p>He put his feet up and sat for a long while by the fire, considering his circumstances. Shomei’s choice to allow herself to be vulnerable – because there was little doubt that every action committed by Shomei was one of willful <em>choice</em> – spoke of complexities which compromised him, and with which he felt ill-equipped to engage. He did not suspect any calculated program of seduction, although there was an inevitable sympathy which arose through knowledge and revelation of the other; she had made herself transparent to him, and trusted him. Her <em>I</em>, to him, had become a <em>Thou</em>. He felt warmth – even gratitude – despite her actions, and an odd feeling of protectiveness; as though she were something altogether precious: he knew that she should be <em>cherished</em>.</p><p></p><p><em>Really, I have always preferred fiends</em>, he thought. They were just more <em>interesting</em>.</p><p></p><p>His mind drifted; he was oblivious to events in the world outside, and wondered what transpired at Deorham, in Morne, at Galda. He pondered, at length, about Soneillon: only days had passed since he had left her; it felt like months. Her reaction to his predicament concerned him.</p><p></p><p>Eventually – having consumed half of the bottle – a deep, dreamless sleep claimed him.</p><p></p><p>*</p><p></p><p>When he awoke, Shomei was already gone. Eadric stood and looked at the wall: a heavy timber door had appeared, where none had been before. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion: what lay beyond was, no doubt, for him – Shomei had indicated as much, and apparently, she recalled vague commitments made in even the most inebriated state. He slowly opened the door, expecting some vast, opulent suite of rooms bedecked with furs and exotic fabrics.</p><p></p><p>Instead, he found four small, modestly-furnished but well-lit stone chambers – not <em>too</em> austere, he noted – and a space which might be a shrine or meditation room, were he to make it so.</p><p></p><p>Still, a prison was a prison. He sighed.</p><p></p><p>A book sat upon a table. He read its pristine cover – embossed in contemporary Wyrish – and laughed despite himself:</p><p></p><p><em>Infernal Hermeneutics – An Introduction</em></p><p></p><p></p><p>*</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sepulchrave II, post: 5785413, member: 4303"] [B]Day 3 – Rest[/B] [Mulissu]: You should be working. [Mostin]: I am taking a break; my head is full of iterated functions and I cannot concentrate. [Mulissu]: You are looking at motes, Mostin. That hardly qualifies as relaxation. [Mostin]: It is for me. Look [here] and [here] and [here]. [Mulissu]: You will need to decipher for me. My Motish is rusty. [Mostin]: There are two sets of exclusory paradoxes relating to Eadric. [Mulissu]: This [here] is Shomei? [Mostin]: Yes. Notice that all sixteen remaining infernal seraphs are now bound to her mote; sixty other once-episemes; almost a thousand exemplars. No force of this power has ever before been assembled by a mage; nor yet a cabal. Nor one of this concentration even [I]deployed[/I] since the Fall – if then. [Mulissu] (Impressed): How? [Mostin]: I should mention that this is three days hence, not [I]now[/I]. Regardless, her valent capacity for conjurations is prodigious. [Mulissu]: Her mote is in tight resonance with Eadric. [Mostin]: Their dance is subtle, and many layered; there are elements which are antagonistic, amative, paternal, mutually didactic, dominating, religious and companionable. The relationship is complex. [Mulissu]: [I]All[/I] relationship is complex, Mostin; that is why sensible wizards avoid it. I assume that this dark, brooding bomb-beneath-a-blanket is Soneillon? There is a field of blackness behind her. [Mostin]: That is the Shadow of Cheshne. And this hungry node of void is Carasch. [Mulissu]: Demonstrate your paradoxes. Mostin stabilized the resonance between Shomei and the [I]Ahma[/I], and progressed the [I]Web of Motes[/I] accordingly; the numerous devil-motes in her vicinity began to flicker and slowly fade. [Mulissu]: That would seem to be… [Mostin]: Wait. The darkness behind Soneillon’s mote seemed to crystallize through it; hundreds of motes began to vanish. A tide which swept through the [I]Web[/I] extinguishing everything. Only one mote – that of Nehael – remained. [Mulissu]: That future would be best avoided. [Mostin]: Here is another. Shomei’s mote was transfixed. The darkness receded, but the devil-motes began to disperse and recombine, forming new resonances and extending outwards in a net which permeated the entire [I]Web[/I]. Tension increased, until motes began to crash into one another. [Mostin]: That was a hypothetical war, fought between Yeqon and his devilish [I]saizhan[/I]-advocates, and the Antagonist Armaros; both of these infernal seraphim are currently beneath Shomei’s thumb. If I [I]bind[/I] her, they will factionalize and attempt to assert themselves as soon as their compacts come to term. [Mulissu]: Reverse the [I]Web[/I]. Do not allow the compacts to expire, and assume only a brief [I]binding[/I] of Shomei. He did. Shomei’s mote erupted, and drove toward Soneillon; those of the fallen episemes detonated spectacularly around her. Futures began to bifurcate rapidly; Mostin held Shomei to a tight course, and Soneillon’s mote vanished, and then reappeared. Shomei acquired new intensity and plunged immediately toward an energetic mote of deep jade, impacting it and shattering it. [Mostin]: This is a typical catenary. If she can gain the [I]Urn[/I], her mastery of Hummaz is all but guaranteed, and she knows it. Her Fire is only half-actualized at present; if she can further unlock the [I]Antinomos[/I], Shomei will be unstoppable. [Mulissu]: Before or after Hummaz? [Mostin]: [I]Before[/I], with the help of the [I]Urn[/I]. [Mulissu]: And what is [[I]this?[/I]] [Mostin]: It is an anomalous catenary. [Mulissu]: Progress it. [Mostin]: [Here]. It does not lead anywhere. It is inert. [Mulissu]: Progress it further. Resolution. Shomei’s mote pulsed, and expanded. It shone steadily: an isolated monad, around which a bright corona formed. It regarded those in her vicinity benignly. [Mulissu]: What is it? [Mostin]: [I]Perfection[/I]. A complete integration of her Flame. It did not move, but the significator for Hummaz – seemingly magnetized – migrated and was drawn into orbit around Shomei’s lambency; its revolutions slowly deteriorated until it was silently absorbed. Motes exploded in a million directions as thought and color surged toward Mostin, shattering his inner vision and challenging the foundation of his prescience. A vibration of utter, draconic, profundity. [Mulissu]: Mostin? … [Mulissu]: Mostin…? [Mostin] (Wrily): That was the Aeon. It just reminded me that it knows I am looking. ** Ortwine collapsed onto the ground. She was covered in blood and guts. Nwm looked at her approvingly. “You have done good work, Ortwine,” the Preceptor nodded. “How many times did you die?” “Only twice,” Ortwine grunted. “I feel I did well; my instinct for self-preservation must be better honed than that of Teppu. [I]Narh[/I] died nine times; he doesn’t seem to care: he just [I]keeps going[/I]. Nehael turns animals into suicidal fanatics, although I think that he may be like that normally.” “And you?” Ortwine nodded. “Her presence is exhilarating; it cannot be denied.” “If the fear of death is removed, it is remarkable what can be accomplished.” “Empty words, Nwm,” Ortwine shook her head. “The fear of [I]pain[/I] remains. And Nwm, for pity’s sake: I am a queen and a goddess. Can we have no better accommodations than this wet earth?” “If you wish for something more comfortable, you will need to find a wizard.” “It does not have to be [I]lavish[/I], Nwm. Just [I]something[/I].” Nwm gestured, and wood flew together to form a small, crude hut, open on one side which faced the fire. “Bed?” Ortwine asked. Nwm shook his head. “Moss?” Ortwine asked. Nwm nodded. A cradle of soft moss grew within the shelter. “Adequate,” Ortwine crawled into it. “And where [I]are[/I] the wizards? Where is Mostin? And I thought the Academy were supposed to be more [I]invested[/I] in events now?” “Shomei’s actions have them in a fluster,” Nwm replied. “They are fragmented and nervous. Mostin is preoccupied with his work.” “What [I]work[/I]?” “I believe a conjuration of some kind,” Nwm smiled. “Another terrible beast?” “Doubtless,” Nwm nodded. “And your own preparations for defense?” Ortwine asked. “Have you accomplished anything [I]worthy[/I]?” “That remains to be tested,” Nwm sighed. “We are stacking spells as fast as we can – which is slowly – but, frankly, everyone is empty. And if the Fourth Effluxion can bring all of the remaining Cheshnite ritual power to bear, she will likely smash the net like so many eggshells.” “If?” Ortwine inquired. “She may not be [I]predisposed[/I] toward ritual magic. One of the other immortals may need to take the lead in directing the cabals against our countermagicks; this would work in our favor. If she can focus them through herself, her assault will be powerful.” “You cannot determine which?” Nwm shook his head. “Her obfuscations are difficult to pierce; she seems opaque to most divinations, and only so much energy can be directed to trying to penetrate them.” Ortwine groaned. “My suspicions are not good, Nwm. Still, I suppose a spell which counters a spell, is one less spell which burns a swathe of people.” “That is my philosophy also,” Nwm nodded. “She burns very hot, Nwm.” “You encountered her then?” “Twice,” Ortwine nodded. She fell asleep. ** Shomei struggled with difficulty to regain consciousness, and stared across the room from beneath her robe. Narcoma still clung to her. “Thank-you for not snapping my neck, [I]Ahma[/I],” she remarked sleepily. “I was not sure if your word was binding, if offered to fiends.” “It is not,” Eadric was laconic. He approached her and regarded her. She seemed tiny. He knew that she was still vulnerable: her reservoir was depleted; almost all of her valences unoccupied. She had allowed her most potent wards to expire, for the purpose of more conjurations. He wondered how many [I]superior planar bindings[/I] she was capable of in the course of a day, now that her Fire had ignited. “Technically, one hundred and thirty-three,” she replied lazily and unexpectedly to the unasked question. “Although even I am not so dedicated. And I did not realize that my valent condition was so apparent to you.” “Your thoughts are undisciplined when you drink too much [I]kasshiv[/I],” he observed. “And your mind makes connection without your volition.” She briefly lifted her head. “I do believe that your pronunciation of that word is an affectation, [I]Ahma[/I]. Speaking of; do you mind…?” She pointed at the cabinet where the [I]kschiff[/I] was kept. “I merely emphasize its proper ritual purpose.” He retrieved another flask and filled her glass to the brim. “Which you might remember, from time to time.” Shomei drank deeply, smiled, replaced her glass, and shifted her position. “There are no dreams here, [I]Ahma[/I]. Its effects are purely soporific. We all need a little oblivion, now and then; something I’m sure you can appreciate.” “How was your book?” He asked. “Complicated.” She furrowed her brow. “It seemed to evoke an emotional response,” Eadric remarked. “Yes, [I]Ahma[/I]; I am capable of them.” “Can you readily communicate its contents? Even in the broadest terms?” “It would be difficult,” she sighed, closing her eyes again. “It would require that you are familiar with a sevenfold hermeneutic; unfortunately, the Infernal Septiga takes some time to master.” “I feel you are being evasive, Shomei.” “Yes, [I]Ahma[/I],” she yawned. “Should I assume that some personal article was touched?” “I don’t know, [I]Ahma[/I].” She raised an eyebrow with effort. “Would you care to talk about the totality of your experience with Soneillon?” “I am not sure that that would be appropriate.” “Because it is deeply intimate, or because you feel it would leave you open to subsequent manipulation?” She asked drowsily. “Point taken,” he replied. “Perhaps I will speak again later; when my guard is not so low, and I have had time to consider.” “That seems only reasonable,” he conceded. “And then, so can you,” she mumbled and smiled. “Unfortunately, that seems equally reasonable.” “I am sorry for your confinement, [I]Ahma[/I]. And I have been rude; given no thought to your need for space. I will do something…” Her cogency was beginning to leave her. “Don’t mention it,” he replied drily “And thank-you again for not [I]killing[/I] me, [I]Ahma[/I],” she muttered. “I thought about it,” Eadric sighed. “I know.” She reached up, fumbled, and patted his hand. Shomei returned to sleep. Eadric shook his head and opened the cabinet where his host-cum-gaoler kept a plentiful supply of [I]kschiff[/I] and other beverages. He sniffed a number of them – some seemed even more dubious than Shomei’s drink of preference – before settling upon a bottle of Bedeshi brandy. He put his feet up and sat for a long while by the fire, considering his circumstances. Shomei’s choice to allow herself to be vulnerable – because there was little doubt that every action committed by Shomei was one of willful [I]choice[/I] – spoke of complexities which compromised him, and with which he felt ill-equipped to engage. He did not suspect any calculated program of seduction, although there was an inevitable sympathy which arose through knowledge and revelation of the other; she had made herself transparent to him, and trusted him. Her [I]I[/I], to him, had become a [I]Thou[/I]. He felt warmth – even gratitude – despite her actions, and an odd feeling of protectiveness; as though she were something altogether precious: he knew that she should be [I]cherished[/I]. [I]Really, I have always preferred fiends[/I], he thought. They were just more [I]interesting[/I]. His mind drifted; he was oblivious to events in the world outside, and wondered what transpired at Deorham, in Morne, at Galda. He pondered, at length, about Soneillon: only days had passed since he had left her; it felt like months. Her reaction to his predicament concerned him. Eventually – having consumed half of the bottle – a deep, dreamless sleep claimed him. * When he awoke, Shomei was already gone. Eadric stood and looked at the wall: a heavy timber door had appeared, where none had been before. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion: what lay beyond was, no doubt, for him – Shomei had indicated as much, and apparently, she recalled vague commitments made in even the most inebriated state. He slowly opened the door, expecting some vast, opulent suite of rooms bedecked with furs and exotic fabrics. Instead, he found four small, modestly-furnished but well-lit stone chambers – not [I]too[/I] austere, he noted – and a space which might be a shrine or meditation room, were he to make it so. Still, a prison was a prison. He sighed. A book sat upon a table. He read its pristine cover – embossed in contemporary Wyrish – and laughed despite himself: [I]Infernal Hermeneutics – An Introduction[/I] * [/QUOTE]
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