Harpists Halls

The Residence.

One that has felt more this literal title than a home as of late, but it remains a place of sanctuary. Now it is again, if briefly, occupied with more directed purpose. Verna wears her Mourner's robes despite no temple duties this day. Cor'lana is invited to assist. The lounge furniture is arranged for room and comfort. Tea is prepared. Hunter is sequestered in the bedchambers with ample treats and toys. Last, and not least, a scribed list of some prepared questions sits upon the lounge table.

Given that Cor'lana and Telamon are now living here (albeit with a magnificent mansion attached to one of the rooms) until their house is cleaned up _and_ safe to return to again, Cor'lana has been involved in the preparation process for this communing. Pothy adorns her shoulder, as the bird is involved in all things, and he rides along as she finishes setting up the writing utensils for her portion of the ritual: asking and recording answers.

"I may ask about this message that Dace Zinskas sent to me last night," she remarks. "He wants me to meet him by Eluna's pool in a dream. I would like to determine if he has malevolent intentions for me. Most certainly he does, but..."

Her violet eyes regard the last question on the list. It's one almost wholly unrelated to the barrage of the other ones. Her mouth presses together into a small line.

"I hope we have time enough," she mutters to herself as she looks at it.

Verna completes the arrangement of incense and lights it in preparation. The scents that begin to waft are not unpleasant, though far more heavy and cloying than, for example, aromas of baked tarts from the kitchen oven in the past. She looks to Cor'lana. "Any concerns of yours are concerns of mine, and should be asked, Cor'lana. Doubly so in the matter of such an invitation and your safety. I would not have you at undue risk, and would prefer you not venture alone, if possible."

She then moves to take a seat near her sister in all manner that is of import. "I cannot argue against the visit, given the possibilities," she adds. A pause follows before she inquires, "Are you prepared?"

Cor'lana looks at Verna with a certain measure of intent in her eyes, banishing the mixed emotions that comes with looking at the final question on the list with a small nod of her head. "I'm ready," she says. "Let this be fruitful and productive." Save for the note of curiosity at the end.

Pothy looks cautiously between the paper, his mistress, and Verna. There's a certain amount of worry in those blue eyes of his, and he hops down onto a perch nearby to make it easier for Cor'lana to write.

Verna nods to Cor'lana, though glances to Apotheosis as she comments. "Worry not. It shall be both. Even should the answers be not as we prefer, they are answers all the same." A light smile is offered, with some conscious effort (as it is not yet an expression that comes reflexively). Afterwards, Verna turns towards the table, leaning forward to waft some of the incense to herself with one hand before she takes up her Scales in the other and begins incanting.

Cor'lana takes up her quill and dips it into the ink, preparing for confirmation that the spell has worked and the entity that has been reached is ready to respond. Her violet eyes watch the casting carefully, although there is some part of her that is intrigued by the process.

GAME: Verna casts Commune. Caster Level: 19 DC: 22

It's subtle, but as the spell works the subtle shift; the room that they are in darkens.

Verna does not appear to notice the shift in illumination, or does not react to it, at the least. She simply stares straight ahead at the burning incense. From her hood comes a single uninflected word, "Begin."

Seeing the shift in the room's lighting and hearing the singular word, Cor'lana nods quietly to herself and puts her quill to the page. "Is the device that empowers the portal in The Vast which leads to Caracoroth's realm one of the totems binding Caracoroth?"

Verna responds flatly, "No."

Answer recorded. Cor'lana's lips press together. "Is the device empowering that portal in the possession of Dace Zinskas?" she asks.

Verna continues to face ahead, still and unmoving from her seated position. Save for her lips to reply, of course, though her robehood masks nearly all of that motion as well. There is a fresh inquiry, followed by a brief pause before the response. "It is in joint possession."

This answer is recorded. Given the need for answers and specificity, Cor'lana goes off-script, writing the question below the last. "Is the device that empowers the portal in the Vast in the joint possession of Dace Zinskas and Marsward Seraquoix?"

There is a reason that Verna welcomed Cor'lana's aid. Of the two, the sorceress is far more adept at ... spontaneity. It may speak volumes that while it may not truly be Verna speaking at the moment, there is little distinction in her stillness and tone of voice (or lack thereof). "Yes."

The clarity is a blessing. Cor'lana records it and moves on to the next question. "Is it possible to depower or close the portal by use of one or more different totems?"

Verna almost does not appear to respirate aside from the brief span between question and response. "No."

And then the downside of clarity. A no to a glimmer of a plan, but it is better than gambling. Cor'lana records it and asks, "Do the lycanthropes currently control the Red Maw?"

The response from Verna is not unexpected. "Yes."

It's an obvious question, but the purpose of this is clarity. Cor'lana records it and asks a question from her personal branch of questions from that line of inquiry. "Do Marsward Seraquoix and Dace Zinskas have equal control of the Red Maw?"

Verna and her Matron provide less clarity for this aspect, though context is yet important? "This is mutable."

Cor'lana knows that they hate each other. She wonders, as she records that answer...

"Do Marsward Seraquoix and Dace Zinskas struggle with each other for control of the Red Maw?" Another off-script one, recorded at the bottom.

Verna says, “Yes.”

Curiosity sated, and an incredibly helpful bit of information to know. This may explain Dace Zinskas's message. He may desire to take total control of the Red Maw. "Is the werewolf camp located within Alexandros?" Cor'lana asks.

There is no shake of Verna's hood, though the answer is negative. "No."

That's a relief. Cor'lana records the answer. She modifies the script somewhat, although not immediately, as she asks, "Is the Red Maw currently located in the Vast?"

Verna does not relish that prior meeting, nor does she joyous anticipate the reunion. All the same, It must be dealt with. "Yes."

They have time. They have questions remaining. Cor'lana uses this to establish firm details of location. A part of her is beginning to suspect that the wolves have moved closer to the portal...

"Is there a werewolf camp with the Red Maw in the Vast?" she asks.

100 points to Ravenstongue. A question that Verna did not think to ask, yet now answers (perhaps also without thinking). "Yes."

And to saw off all ambiguity, to determine all the details are in order... "Are the Red Maw and the werewolf camp near the portal that is powered by the device held in joint possession by Dace Zinskas and Marsward Seraquoix?" Cor'lana asks, recording her answer from the last question. This is about as lethally to the point in details as it gets with confirmation.

Verna could hug Cor'lana for her thoroughness. In fact, she might, after all is said and done. For the moment, however, she remains still and unreactive save to respond, "Yes."

And like that, the needle is threaded. There is still time remaining and questions to ask. Cor'lana returns to the script now that she's finished with this line of inquiry. "Can one or more totems be used to banish The Red Maw from this plane?"

With powerful tools already at their disposal, more information on how they might (or might not) be used is pertinent. "No."

And that answer is recorded. The totems have limits. But...

"Does an item that is created by someone with a powerful connection with their totem within the dreaming realm have the power to banish the Red Maw?" Cor'lana asks. There is _something_ to do with the staff that Telamon has conjured and the sword that Dolan says he has pulled out of the dream.

Verna inhales softly before answering with the exhalation, "Possibly."

That answer is going to get Dolan and Telamon going. Cor'lana actually smiles to herself as she writes down the answer to that off-script question.

The number of questions they have is quickly dwindling. There are only two left on the page that they'd intended to ask, and there's likely a few more that she could ask beyond that.

Well, time to get the money's worth. "Does Dace Zinskas intend to do harm to me or trick me with the meeting he wishes to have with me?" Cor'lana asks.

The response does, or would, please Verna, though such is not conveyed in her tone of voice. "No."

That one is actually a surprise to Cor'lana, but then again--if he's coming to her for help in establishing full control of the Red Maw, doing harm would be against his nature.

A part of her wonders. Does Dace Zinskas hate Marsward because he, too, was pushed into this life like Zalgiman was? Not all who serve the dark do so willingly. People are generally not born evil. They're made that way.

"Does Dace Zinskas possess one of the three totems that remain out of the grasp of my allies?" Cor'lana asks.

As they were intended to be, Verna's Matron affirms through her, "The totems remain unseen."

Cor'lana records the answer dutifully. That makes sense. There's time remaining...

And her eyes go to the last question on the page that is written. In truth, there may be more questions she can ask beyond that. The feeling in her chest tightens. She thinks of a man beyond despair, because she, his hope, couldn't be the hope in the way that he wanted.

"Is Zalgiman Joaki's soul at peace in the Halls?" she asks. In truth, she has more questions related to him. But this is the first and the one that is written on the page, because she hadn't the selfishness to write down more than just the one.

Verna's mouth opens, but it's not her voice at all that comes out. Instead a voice that's genderless and ageless that comes out. "Please wait while the party you are trying to contact is notified of your request."

Cor'lana's eyes go wide at the very unexpected turn of events. Her writing stance on the quill tightens, and she stares for a long moment at Verna. It's like every fiber of her body is suddenly awake, a cold feeling all over her. _Like the touch of the grave_, comes the thought.

"Zalgiman?" she asks, finally, after a long moment. And then, just asking the name causes tears to bloom in her eyes. Tears she's simultaneously been holding in and shedding since that dream in the snow came to her eyes.

There's silence in the wake of her question for a moment, the room so dim that the light seems to fade away, and the darkness in Verna's hood makes it impossible to see her face. Thus making it easier to imagine that someone else is sitting there, particularly when Zalgiman's voice comes from within. "Cor'lana..." He sighs her name. "I wasn't expecting you."

The words are surprisingly gentle considering the way that things had been left between them.

There are so many things. So many feelings. The pain. All of them pass through her head in one collective jumble. In truth, Cor'lana had thought before she would know what to say if this had ever come to happen, but now that is here before her, it takes her a moment to marshall a response to that.

"I'm sorry," she says at first. A sniffle escapes her, then followed by a sob. "I'm so sorry. For everything. How it happened, how it ended--I'm so sorry."

"Are you crying? For me?" He sounds a mixture of startled and perhaps even a little uncertain. "Don't cry my Raven Queen. It wasn't you. It was... It was me. I couldn't let go of that dream. I didn't want to live. Not in a world like that."

"I know," Cor'lana eeks out. "I know the world was dark and horrible. It was like that for me for so long. And I still think--" A sob. "I still think about--if I could have saved you. If I could have brought you the peace that you needed. I hoped so hard that I could have brought you a life worth living, and yet I knew you wanted something I couldn't give you, a kind of love I couldn't provide--I..."

She sobs, shaking her head. The writing quill gets dropped into the ink and she puts her face into her hands. "I've written so many poems since then. About you. The pure and platonic love I have for you. I've been bringing flowers for you and offering up my prayers at the Temple. Hoping you hear them somehow, hoping they comfort you, because I feel in the end all I did was drive you into despair when all I wanted was your happiness. I don't know if any of this is making sense, I just, I--"

Cor'lana is a poet, and she's supposed to have better grasp of her words and her emotions than this. "I'm just so sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have done so many things differently. I keep wondering what it'd be like to be in the Halls myself. I think I deserve it, almost, and..." Her words are eaten by her sobs, bordering on wailing.

A worried sigh leaves the figure before Cor'lana and the hood shakes back and forth. "Mourning is for the living Cor'lana." It might seem an unkind statement, but it's gently said. "You don't deserve to be in the Halls. I never wanted that for you. Please don't cry."

For the first time Verna's body moves, it reaches out for Cor'lana. Maybe its because it's something that either of them would have done that it happens. Maybe Zalgiman's spirit is simply strong enough in this moment, but he touches her shoulder gently. "Don't mourn for me my Raven Queen. I never did anything in life to deserve tears like yours."

The hood half lifts and he touches her hair gently, a more intimate motion than he'd ever allowed himself in life. More than Verna would have thought to do then. "I love you Cor'lana. And when you love someone a part of you lives in them. So be happy. Smile and love that foolish fop, have a family. Write poetry for the wolf who loved you once upon a time. And I'll live in you."

There's nothing more. He's gone already. The spell spent and Verna sits there, her hand touching Cor'lana's hair.

Gone again, before she could tell him of her plan to rid the world of Marsward. Before she could tell him how she planned to put an end to that which had hurt him and seduced him into the darkness. But his words remain, his gestures remain, and they speak to her very soul.

He is gone, but he remains. So it is with the way that this poetry is written, because she knows better than anyone that is how people operate. Her mother lives within her, as do all of the ancestors before her that had passed Pothy down through the generations. The world turns. The time passes. But love and memory and words do not.

Cor'lana puts her hand on top of Verna's hand. The tears are still in her violet eyes.

"Verna," she says softly. Followed by a sob caught in the throat.

"Thank you." It's said almost like a whisper. But it's loud in its gratitude.

Verna blinks. Slowly. Her mouth opens to ask if that was truly -but, no, she is quite certain it was. Her lips are parted for a long moment as she considers her words. She is wholly accustomed to platitudes and assurances to assuage the bereaved, but this is quite ... unique. Still, the words are not false.

"Her Hall is but a waystation, Cor'lana. From there shall a soul moves on to paradise of their own beliefs." Per Her judgment, of course, yet Verna chooses not to remind.

"I know," Cor'lana says, softly, her hand still on top of Verna's in her hair. "I know. And I..."

She takes her hands away to dry her eyes. "I still mean what I said in my poem, the one I delivered over his corpse. That I want him to have, in the next world, what he couldn't have here. He may have hurt people--he may have been an accessory to and a perpetrator of evil--but I earnestly want that for him."

When she pulls her hands away, there's a look of determination in her eyes, a sharp and iron will that's there in the violet eyes. "But if he lives in me then I will show him: I will show him what I can do. I will show him how I can soar, how I can right the wrongs that have been committed. _I will show him how a Hound can be chained._" There is the majesty that is befitting of the moniker Zalgiman had given her, the conviction thereof. "I do not intend on losing this war, nor any other waged against me or my allies."

"She sees all," Verna assures, "and Her judgment includes all." When Cor'lana's hands move Verna removes her own to doff her hood before rising. She tends to extinguishing the incense as she parses and files the recent glut of ... information.

"I have never doubted your intentions nor your convictions, Cor'lana. I do not expect any others would or did, as well. Still, your ...vigor is uplifting."

"It's motivation to do what has to be done," Cor'lana responds, turning her attention back to Pothy. The poor bird has been watching all of this with concern in his blue eyes the whole time, and he looks particularly concerned now as he looks at Cor'lana.

"I know," she says softly, going to pet Pothy's head feathers. "Verna--I intend on disseminating what we've learned here to Telamon and to Dolan both, as well as anyone else involved with our efforts. I intend on taking that meeting with Dace Zinskas at my earliest ability to do so."

A determined smile flickers onto her face. "Let's see if the enemy of our enemy is our friend," she says.

-End