27.1 Chords of Life

General Summary

Day 422

The tree Ipthina leaves me with is small amongst the others, only 30m tall. Its leaves are silvery underneath and the light plays off of them like water reflecting the sun, creating playful shadows and lights all around me on the ground. When I approach the vast trunk and begin to climb it's almost like a path upwards calls out to me - every pause leads me to notice the next perfect spot until I am nearly at the top of the tree and have clearly found my destination.   From the spot where I settle down against the trunk I can see through a gap in the leaves to overlook the entire grotto. I can see the waterfalls spilling over stones to collect in the pool, the forest of other trees, the structure where the vines adorn it with life. It's a place I would love to paint for Andstella...maybe another day. Right now the sight makes me think of Dal and I reach for the blend of magic to create a brilliantly coloured green parrot that opens its beak and releases a song that is...nearly Dal. It fits next to him though, and I sing back to it and try to make my music become Dal's so that we can sing together. It meets my song halfway and I feel it settle into something that I recognize as Dal, especially as it takes wing and glides out to investigate the rest of the grotto. Unfortunately I can only stay tethered to it so long and it disappears in a shower of energy.   I smile and summon magic again, this time channelling Kadia and the fine mist of water coming off of the waterfalls. Instead of a parrot I get a seagull with iridescent blue feathers, hawking and crowing at me as I laugh. From beside me I hear a soft giggle on a nearby branch but when I turn to look there is only a leaf-green teacup. I let the seagull dissipate as I investigate and find a perfectly formed cup of wrapped leaves full of fragrant tea. It's gentle and mildy sweet - delicious.   I conjure a parrot for Camellia to go with it and this is the best of the birds I've created so far. Golden pink feathers with fae wings, singing a warm and nurturing song. Again, in the distance I hear gentle applause and turn to find a leaf platter of nuts and dark purple berries. Again, I make my way towards them. The mouthful of bright, tart flavour conjures Lyssa but her bird shatters before it comes together. The pang in my heart as I tried to infuse my illusion with her essence tore it apart.   For a moment I feel like I can't breathe and then the air forces itself through me and I steady myself against the branch again. Above me, in the original spot I landed, I can see the silhouette of a small figure nestled right where I sat. As I approach he turns and smiles at me; a pale golden boy with a swirling open grain of wood and lush green hair. He introduces himself as Wayin and waves at me happily.   For a while we chat about easy things - he shows me which plants make up the tea and tells me about Hue and some of the other spirits in the Grotto. He compliments my birds and asks if I make myself without magic as well and his eyes light up when I show him my instrument, carved from a fallen eldritch tree. It plays of its own accord when he touches it and I hear my own music played back to me: The sad, aching songs and the boisterous happy ones.  

Thank you; you took good care of her. You carried her away and gave meaning to her again even though she's gone. She would like this.

  I find myself smiling through tears again and he looks at my curiously and asks if he can teach me something happy. We find ourselves beside the stream and he asks me what makes me happy. Listing off my family members is easy and natural but again, my heart skips over Lyssa. Thinking about her aches; I wish she could be here. I don't mention Thalien; I don't think I can bear to.   Then, Wayin brings forth a pile of small twigs and branches and starts braiding them together as I watch. He begins by sorting through them, inspecting me and arranging them around himself like a workspace.   Then, he begins.  

I feel your heartbeat in your magic so you should be good at this!   All life has six things in common: All life needs water. All life hungers, whether it be hunters who eat their prey or plants that reach for the sun. All life grows. All life ends. All life is precious. And all life is beautiful. These are the six chords of life.

  The pattern he weaves feels so instinctive to him but if I pay very close attention I can see the pattern building on itself. He weaves together the six larger branches and incorporates the smaller twig as he goes until he has formed a delicate woven tiara, which he places gently upon my head. As I examine myself in the reflective pool one branch bursts into tiny flowers, brilliantly blue, purple, and green.   We pass the rest of the afternoon together as he teaches me to weave a tiara for Lyssa, thinking of her the entire time. The pattern is well-structured and clear to me but I find it easier to let my mind drift and let my internal sense of the magic guide me. At the end of it I feel raw again, but a little closer to peace and a little further from tears. I promise to return to play more tomorrow and Wayin grins and disappears back into his tree.   When I return to Jerun I find him tending a fire, lost in thought. It seems we have both had heavy days. The evening is quiet; Hue joins us and directs us in fetching water and cooking a hearty, slow-cooked stew. Before she leaves she invites us to join her for lunch tomorrow in a cave nearby.   Alone again, Jerun and I lean on one another. He tells me about his day with Hue looking at the waterfalls that felt so familiar to him - the feeling of water sipping through his fingers. The plants here seem like they recognize him and don't want him to leave. And he spent time with Ipthina today as well but it felt like sometimes she was looking right through him. It felt like sometimes she spoke to him like an old friend and sometimes more with reverence, though it seemed that she caught herself several times. She cried when they parted and asked him to come back and speak with her again.   I'm...disappointed. I can't blame someone for seeing Jaedien and being overwhelmed with meaning and hope. I have quiet, understanding judgment for letting that spill out to affect lost Jerun without being able to explain it. The reverence is heavy, as is the old friendship. A couple days...just give him a couple days before all of us can be strong enough to explain this. Give him time to settle in here and connect with the feelings this place awakens.   In turn, I tell him about Wayin and he asks to meet the young spirit. I think it would be good for both of them; I imagine Wayin wouldn't recognize Jaedien at all. I still have waves of conflict rushing over me knowing that the process of befriending this sweet, friendly spirit is part of some sort of test and that the essence I'm asking for is still something I don't understand and don't want to ask about.   When we lie down to sleep beneath the stars I slip almost instantly into the Dreaming, barely feeling the barrier as I pass through it. I can feel something calling me from the South and I eagerly fly towards it. Almost everyone I miss is South and I'm laughing as I creep up upon Bran where he sits in the Drognar apartment waiting for me.   I settle in and he tells me all about Drognar and its changing state. Many storm refugees are eager to return home but others have found reasons to stay and construction for new buildings and homes is ongoing. The city will be better and stronger when it's done. I pass along news of Tor so that Spindle knows he's still alive. He tells me of Rikka's work with dwarven-style engraving on elvish blades. Such small drops of intermingling make me smile. I can't wait to see what she does in a century.   I hear about a few elves who don't seem to be respectful of Bran's position in my inner family. Their treatment at the hands of other humans makes it hard to accept Bran's spot beside me but Spindle has been a valuable ally in shutting them down. I'm glad he's there; I feel my warlike nature rousing at the idea that there are elves who might look at my family and dare to think I could have chosen better, as though these people haven't proven their hearts and love time and time again. Bran reassures me that it's fine and I rest my head on his shoulder.   Soon he'll be returning to what's left of Whitewater to check on how they have fared after Magdalena moved them. They won't be in the place he grew up, and that place and those people haven't been home for a long while now. He's still navigating what it means to go back and how he will feel. This time at least he will have company - he and Nina will go together to introduce Torrick and Bran will officiate their wedding later in the summer. I can't wait to hear about it - I make him promise to write me about all of it, knowing I might be hundreds of miles away by then.   And then he'll go onwards to Ipth, Brighton, and Deldrin. He is long due to see Vaneilli. He wants me to officiate their wedding but he has the simultaneous thought that perhaps Haze could take them back across the Barrier so they could marry in the place she calls home. Guilt pings in my heart as I tell him I cannot follow them back across the Barrier. He understands, of course, and I'm sure that will influence their plans. My reticence to cross back is partly for the sake of all the work we're doing here, of course. Privately...I cannot bear the thought that I could see my Mistress again and then...leave. I don't know if I could. I'm not ready to even touch any of the other complications - the Empress, Kaide, Mystery, the Court that wants me to return. I can't go back.   Bran knows there's layers here that I can't untangle yet. He gracefully moves on to inform me that Thalien has stopped hiding. In part he was hiding from Yneir (would that we had all been so fortunate) but he has also been hunting for something he's been worried about. He's felt something similar to what he sensed while guarding the Crystal Spires.   Perhaps later I will call Thalien and ask after this. I don't know if I can hide what I'm doing from him but equally - I don't think he can stop me.   I leave Bran with a hug that I hope I'll feel for hours after we part. We didn't get enough time between the storm ending and my parting again.