In Eluna's House

Temple of Eluna, midday

Normally, the Temple District is a busy and warm place, with faithful and clergy of all stripes bustling around, about their activities. The weather today, though, has made it a ghost town, literally and figuratively. A howling northeast wind out of the Redridge drives a blast of heavy snow sideways in a wall across the stone edifices, and those who manage to find their way to this area are, nearly one and all, headed for the Temple of Daeus, where the snow does not fall and the wind does not scream its rage to the rooftops. Thus is the Temple of Eluna near-empty, and the Seers who are present to tend the pool amid the chill marble have wrapped themselves in cloaks, white robes, and heavy blankets for their meditations, looking more like snowdrifts than priests in their white and silver cloaks.

To Seldan, this is an excellent time to travel. None will be about to mark his presence, save those absolutely essential, and the frigid temperatures and quickly deepening snow outside troubles him not at all. The wind is a more formidable opponent, and when the doors of the Temple open - with some effort, mind - to admit him, he looks more like the Abominable Snowman than a paladin, his cloaked and armored form coated head to foot in several inches of wind-driven snow, hat and head alike no different.

Once he is inside, a mighty gust slams the heavy metal doors behind him as if to say, "AND STAY OUT!"

There's cold, and then there's -cold-. Telamon is now immensely grateful for the heavy leather and fur-lined greatcoat he's been wearing, because it's entirely possible a cloak might've been yanked off him. The whiteout conditions don't help, and at one point Tel got completely turned around. Fumbling his way through the blasting wind, he hears the whump of the heavy doors shutting and moves towards it -- barely able to get them open and slip inside.

Realizing where he is, he rakes back his hood, and can't help but smile ruefully. "Well, that's... unsubtle," he comments to himself. Looking around the temple as he pushes snow off his slim frame, he tries to orient himself and find a place to sit down, preferably out of the way.

Mikilos is not absolutely essential, but does range towards 'generally useful', and is less bothered by the weather than most, though his distinctly grey robes do stand out amoung the priestly whites. The elf is bent over a small table near the grand pool, going over a set of star charts with a couple of junior priests. The trio glance up as thee doors slam, curious.

Struggling into the temple comes another cloak-wrapped figure... though once she has wrestled the door shut again, the new arrival spends some time just beyond the threshold as she attempts to divest herself of as much snow as possible. Her efforts are accompanied by lingering looks around - as well as somewhat apprehensive glances up towards the great *absence* of a roof over the pool. Though she is here in hope of receiving guidance in more than one form, she *had* rather hoped that things might be a little warmer and better-sheltered within the temple's walls. The Winter wear, it seems will not be set aside any time soon. Though service to a goddess of fire has its perks, lasting immunity to weather of such ferocity remains rather far beyond Ygraine.

In truth, Seldan would have been in quite serious trouble, had the path been one less familiar to him. When one treads a path several times each day for years, and then a few times a week of late, it is a path that one navigates as much by feel as by sight, and that is the Myrrish man's saving grace right now. He lets out a long breath as he is followed in, and immediately invokes a simple cantrip, drawing the sigil before him and speaking a word. The sigil vanishes, and he begins to run a hand slowly above the snow coating him so thickly as to make him non-recognizable. "Forgive me," he calls to the Seers, the Myrrish accent fairly thick, as he works.

The voice, at least, is enough to identify him.

"The floor becomes slick when wet," he looks up long enough to warn Telamon and Ygraine when they enter. "A moment, and I shall dismiss it, if you cannot." Any who wish to test that theory will find him quite correct.

Telamon is in the middle of brushing snow off himself and using a cantrip to whisk it away. Glancing up at Seldan, he squints, then grins suddenly, an expression not unlike the stars coming out from behind clouds. "I expected as much," he remarks. "I did -not- expect the absolutely absurd amount of snow and wind. I made the mistake of trying to fly over it and almost got tossed into the Tornmawr."

He glances to Ygraine, does a double take, and then bows politely. "Ma'am. Good to see you again." His eyes flick over Mikilos as well, but as the archmage is clearly busy, he doesn't interrupt him.

Mikilos speaks briefly with the pair of priests, leaving them to their charts as he moves towards the entrance. "Sir Padaryn, sir Lpecyll-Atlon, good to see you both, if not exactly on the best of days." He nods politly to Ygraine, not placing her name just yet.

Ygraine double-takes slightly, as Telamon becomes recognisable as something other than a snowy oddity. Flashing him a smile, she inclines her head... before offering a bow to the others. "I fear that my means of banishing the snow might not be the most gentle," she concedes to Seldan - her own words tinged with the polished but hard-to-pin-down accent of a diplomat or a certain class of bard. "It is good to see you again, too," she adds more quietly to Telamon.

Seldan, still in the midst of clearing snow from armor, self, and clothing, looks up at the greetings, and pulls himself up taller, inclining his head politely to Mikilos, and less formally to Telamon and to the other newcomer. "Master Archmage, Master Lùpecyll-Atlon." All without fully turning his attention from his spell.

It takes a few minutes, but at length, his cloak is de-encrusted of snow, at least enough that it falls around him instead of sticking out stiffly behind him, and most of him is de-snowed, if still damp.

"Then I shall assist," he turns then to Ygraine, reserving a polite smile for her, and sets about using his little cantrip to dismiss the snow coating her as well.

As he works, he chuckles at Telamon quietly. "You are most fortunate. The last time I erred in flying in the wind, I slammed into the temple wall and knocked myself out, I am told for some minutes."

Telamon nods sourly. "I was lucky -- I only landed in a snowdrift. After that I decided I'd best walk, but that's... not much better." With the worst of the snow and wet removed, Tel rakes his fingers through his hair. "Still, any port in a storm. If the wind will just calm down, even for a bit, it wouldn't be so bad."

He shrugs lightly. "And I admit I've been meaning to visit the temple for a while. I suspect more than happenstance here. A bit too convenient that I get myself turned around and wind up at the steps to Ni'essa's house." His eyes sparkle merrily.

Mikilos frowns mildly. "Flying is dangerous enough in high winds alone. Throwing in low visibility... not wise. Can tell you from experience that swimming in a frozen Tornmawr is wildly unplesant. Well, if not fully prepared for doing so."

"For those of us unable to fly, the choice of how to travel was rather simpler," Ygraine notes wryly. "And perhaps at least a *little* bit safer! A friend of mine loves to swim in the Tornmawr, but I suspect that this weather might be too much for even her. Though perhaps it is pleasantly calm beneath the surface, if one can cope down there."

To Seldan, she offers a rather nervous little smile. "We, ahh, have actually met, though it was years ago now. And I doubt that you have much reason to recall a stranger who encouraged you to persist with your artistic endeavours."

"I have not forgotten you, faithful of Vaire, although seldom do my steps bring me to this place, of late, and I fear that I recall not your name. For that would I ask your forgiveness." Seldan continues to remove snow until it is gone, then dismisses his spell with a swift gesture and pulls his damp cloak around himself. "I do not make a habit of swimming in the Tornmawr, and thus can I not speak to its mood at this time of the year." He shoots Mikilos a wary glance, and keeps the archmage in his view as he turns his attention to Telamon. "She sends guidance at times when it is least looked for. Doubt not that you were guided here for a reason. You say that you had meant to come here?"

Telamon nods slowly to Seldan, though his eyes flick to Ygraine with interest at her words. Then he continues, "A friend of mine told me about reaching a cusp. A changing point in one's life. There are many we face -- I've just recently gone through one," he grins at the last, holding up his left hand, marked with the curuchuil of his marriage. "But another beckons. I find I must pay heed to the face of Ni'essa Sky-Singer and her words. She's been patient enough with me, I think. And if I needed a nudge, well... who am I to cast aspersions?"

Mikilos chuckles and smiles to Seldan. "Not my usual habit either, but I was trying to destroy a vampire at the time." He nods to Ygraine. "Plesant enough place to swim in the summer, or if adapted to watery conditions. But think I'll stick to the shore for the next few months."

"I do not recall weather quite *this* ferocious in Alexandria, though I confess that I have spent less time here than I would like. And...." The Ceinaran offers another bow, to all three of the men. "Ygraine. Ygraine fferch Gwydion of House Penlew, to be formal. A servant of Ceinara, here to ask Eluna for a little of her wisdom. Though I am delighted to bump into familiar faces. And to be able to offer congratulations for your 'changing point', especially given what you said yesterday regarding your wife's faith!" She flashes a swift grin at Telamon, before looking back to Seldan. "I am honoured to be remembered, especially when a good two years or so have passed! I hope that you have found at least a little time in which to practice your art, though I know you deal with far greater concerns."

"The Temple fountain sufficed for the purpose," Seldan tells Mikilos, evenly and quietly, a polite reserve settling around him despite familiar company. "I do find time for art, where I may, and as the Muse comes to me, although it is true that seldom of late do I pursue it here." Something in his demeanor is - cautious. "Congratulations on your nuptials. Know this-" He pauses, and draws a deep, slow breath. "It is not needful to come here, to see Her face, for indeed is She everywhere the moon's light falls, and always does She hear a call to Her name, even does She not always reply. Her way is to be a light amid the shadows, and a balance between them, for never is there light without shadow, and there is wisdom in the shadows, if one is careful to always use such wisdom wisely and well."

Telamon scowls at the mention of vampires, though the expression vanishes from his face as quickly as it appears. At Ygraine's introduction, he nods to her respectfully in turn. "Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon at your service, miss Ygraine." His eyes shift back to Seldan, and he spreads his hands. "I... find myself not necessarily adrift, but the opposite. Drawn into an orbit might be a better turn of phrase. And I find I must take heed of it. But your words confirm what I had held: to carry a light into dark places and be a guardian of travelers at night." He offers a smile at the mention of art. "My wife is probably the better poet, though I delve into more obscure fields. Does wine qualify as art?"

Mikilos nods. "Though was anything found of Kol apparently comming back? Was that one encounter, and have heard nothing about him since." He nods to Ygraine. "Mikilos Mithralla, magus and craftsman."

"Thankfully, I do not believe that I have ever encountered a vampire. I fear that I could do little save annoy one. Those of us who benefit from such efforts are fortunate indeed to have such protectors." Ygraine inclines her head to the others, before cracking a grin at Seldan and Telamon. "I am truly glad to hear that you are able to continue, from time to time. And... I know that many people consider vintnery a *very* fine art indeed."

"Once have I encountered him, within the city." Seldan's entire demeanor drifts from caution into the quiet impassivity of an alabaster pillar, and he pulls himself to his full height. "Swift was he to depart, when I made myself known, but not before he attempted to twist the minds of a few of the city adventurers. That did Zeke and I manage to break, and yet - I do not doubt that he will show himself again, when it pleases him." _I will be ready when he does._ The unspoken words hang in the air.

"Fine indeed is the art of the vintner, do not doubt that." He does not bother to introduce himself, in turn. All present know who he is, and those who do not - better they remain ignorant. "She makes Her will known," he adds to Telamon, "but perhaps Her Seers may best guide you as to how that will is to be fulfilled."

Telamon looks like he's biting a lemon. "He... or one with his likeness, from what I've been told... has been seen outside the city. Conversing with Zalgiman." He takes a deep breath. "However, I learned to my interest that he's not perfect. He's strong enough to resist a spatial ripple, but he can't sense the invisible easily -- which I used to whisk away someone in his grasp."

At Seldan's counsel, the half-sil nods. "I think that might be best. I'm not above taking advice from those with a better understanding... and maybe it'll last long enough for the wind to die down." He bows to the others. "Take care and safe travels, friends." before heading off in search of a Seer.

Mikilos frowns, but nods. "Not happy to know Kol is still out there at all, but admit I'm glad he seems to have forgotten me... or yet to gain his obcession... whatever is going on."

Ygraine raises a hand in farewell to Telamon... but looks more than a little concerned at the present topic of conversation. "I am not sure if such a grave discussion makes my purpose here more or less important. But I had hoped to explore ways of making myself at least a *little* more capable in dealing with threats and perils. Though I suspect that I would need a great deal of aid before I could do more than momentarily delay a vampire!"

"Her light upon your path." Seldan glances after Telamon, but makes no effort to delay him, instead turning back to the other two quickly enough. "I doubt that even Kol is about in this weather," he points out, spreading a hand palm-down in an effort to pacify the group. "You need not worry for delaying him. Those there are among the city's guild capable of stopping him. Should you encounter him, see instead to yourself and those around you, that he not turn you into a weapon to be used against your allies. He is known for his mind games."

Mikilos nods in agreement. "A momentary delay can make a huge difference in the outcome of a battle, but that goes both ways. In any case, what did you have in mind for countering threats and perils?"

"I, ahh...." Looking distinctly bashful in response to the kind words, Ygraine nods gratefully. Reaching back under her cloak, she draws out a slender bundle. "I have been told that it is possible to forge a rather special kind of *connection* with a weapon that has a close connection to one's lineage. This rapier is old and battered, and presently an inferior weapon - in practical terms - to the one at my hip, but it has been in my family for generations, and has seen much use. Hence its rather battered state. I was wondering if it might be possible to learn whether I could indeed forge a connection to it. And what such a link might actually *do*."

"Ah." Reunion is nowhere in evidence at the moment, but from the incline of his head, Seldan's understanding of the matter at hand is clear. "Such bonds are not forced, my lady, but it is indeed possible. Be warned, however, that such a bond will cause the weapon to reveal its personality to you. The stronger the weapon, the stronger its will, and it will wish to impose its will upon you. What personality - or personalities, for there may be more than one - what lies within, I cannot say. For truly does the weapon's soul lie within it, in such a case, and if it is an heirloom of your family," here, he pauses a moment. "It is not a forging, a forcing, as much as a process of discovery."

Mikilos nods. "I'm familiar with the process as a theory, but have little practical experience. It is worth noteing that just because an item is a cherished heirloom doesn't strictly mean it has the potential for a magical awakening. Sometimes an antique is just an antique."

Inclining her head, Ygraine smiles and nods. "If I could learn how to explore... to find out whether it would be possible to link to it, then I would be glad. Though... what is it that such a connection might *do*, that makes it something that people would risk 'domination' by its personality or soul?"

"It is best, do I show you how such a thing might be done. I recommend to none how I first learned that Reunion could be awakened, but there are better means of doing so." Seldan's tone goes curiously cool and impersonal, but only for a moment, and his eyes lower to the marble floor of the temple. "It is in my mind that if the idea has crossed your mind, it is likely to be one such. It is - enchanting, but in a different form, a drawing out of the potential in the weapon. A learning of its secrets, rather than an imposition of will upon it. The first is much easier to do than the second. Begin by spending time with it. Learning its quirks, its balance. As you do so, you will find that if it can be awakened, it will adapt to you, as much as you to it."

Mikilos nods, and shrugs. "As for what it can do, much mimics regular enchanting... or prehaps vice versa. A wide range of magics and abilities are possible. But the one I've noticed is an awakened weapon is a companion, a second independant will that offers a different perspective on things. And a second opinion can be very handy as one goes thru life."

Ygraine nods thoughtfully, offering Seldan a sympathetically concerned look. "It... it rather sounds as if you had a difficult time of it," she says gently. "I appreciate your willingness, *both* of you, to answer my questions. How, ahh, how often does someone learn that they would really rather not have pursued such a course of action, do you know?"

"I have no regrets." That statement is unequivocal, and Seldan's chin lifts. "It is always possible to turn aside, and pursue no further. It cannot be undone, but it can be stopped. It is still but a weapon, and cannot act if not wielded. I have heard of those that move on their own, but nit fight."

Mikilos considers. "I can't offer any sort of satistic... but of all those I know who have followed such a path, I'm not aware of any who regret it. There are unexpected side effects, minor annoyances... but over all people seem happy with the result. Admittedly, are many examples I'm not familiar with, so is possible regret happens, but I'm not familiar with such a case."

Looking hopeful, Ygraine nods once more. "Thank you. Truly. I... I think that I would like to try to pursue this, if I can. There are... quite a few things in my family history to live up to, and some to live down. If I can find a way to connect to that history, and to put it good use in the present, then I shall be glad. Do... you know if any changes wrought are permanent? Or do they depend upon the connection to a specific individual? If I were to succeed in establishing such a link, would the sword remain *different* once out of my hands? Or when inherited by kin?"

Seldan remains still and quiet as he talks. The stone of the temple walls is chill, but the air is warm enough. Certainly not freezing. "Some enchantment work is required. Some materials, to render its power from potential to reality. Thus are the changes permanent, once made, and thus is the magic made real. Oft does Reunion tell me what it wishes to do, or what it wishes to be able to do. Other times, I ask of Reunion, is it willing to create such an effect at my command. As the archmage has said, it is a partnership. Your weapon becomes your ally, not just your servant."

Mikilos considers. "In short, no, I don't know. Each case is unique. Certainly some changes last, while others... if a blade is awakened, it can also fall asleep. The process in which that happens, I don't know. But canges usually last a lifetime, if not generations."

Nodding slowly, Ygraine looks distinctly pensive. "Thank you. Again. Each of you. You have given me a great deal to consider, even before I might manage to find out whether it is *possible* for me to pursue this path. How, ahh, how would I actually go about embarking upon it, at least far enough to find out whether it is possible?"

It takes Seldan a moment of gathering his thoughts to answer. "Spend time with the weapon," he answers finally. "Get to know it, its balance, power and speed. It is much like making a friend. Begin by intimately learning the weapon, such that it becomes an extension of your hand. If it can awaken for you, it will. I will be able to tell whether it has done so, do you have questions."

Mikilos nods. "Again, each case is unique, so hard to be certain what will work for you. Can try researching it's history, who made it, who weilded it, what things it's been thru."

Looking rather happily hopeful, Ygraine offered still another nod. "Thank you. Any aid in this would be very much appreciated, whether or not I manage to find that connection. I know quite a bit about it already, though I have not found the courage to try investigating what its history might have been here in Alexandria... which I should most likely do, now that I am back in the city once again. Not that I am entirely sure what historical records might be accessible to me, I admit."

"Were the weather more favorable, I would commend to you to begin at the city library, but it may be that the Temperances will be able to aid you in seeking the history of a weapon." Seldan's quiet reserve remains as he speaks on the matter at hand, but the coldness of alabaster fades around the edges. "As it stands, travel for any distance is not advised, although the temple of the Draco Solis may be warmer and more to your liking, even now. It is not far."

Mikilos considers. "The city library is vast and has information on most topics, if you're willing to sort thru it all. The Magic College isn't as large, but far more specialized. I have my own collection, far smaller of course, but I have obtained many journals and diaries that can offer insight and context not found in formal text." He nods to Seldan. "A trip for another day, that is. I'm sure you could make it to any of the libraries, but unlikly to enjoy the trip today."

"Courtesy of my Lady, I can conjure fire even in a blizzard... but it is not the most *practical* of ways to try to warm oneself!" Ygraine's grin is wry, accompanied by a shrug of her shoulders. "But, ahh... I am Eldanar, as my formal introduction might have suggested. I tend to avoid giving my full name here, because my parents were Myrrish diplomats, based here in the city during the protectorate. I have been a little scared of finding out quite how deeply-held grudges might still be... and I do not know what has been preserved in the histories here, with regard to that period."

"Within the city, not so. Among the villagers and countryfolk, they are deeply held indeed." Seldan speaks with certainty on this point. "Within these walls, I think you safe enough. But, today may not be the best day for such a journey," he goes on. "Too easy is it to become wholly lost." His eyes drift to the silent Mikilos, then back to Ygraine. "Come, let us seek the Draco Solis' temple, and its warmth, that you might fully dry off. I would not have you take a chill."

Laughing and ducking her head, Ygraine favours Seldan with another grateful smile. "Thank you. Oddly enough, I asked my Lady for some aid in coping with the dangers posed by cold, today... but avoiding the need to call upon her gifts is only wise. And your kindness is very much appreciated. I shall be honoured to accompamy there. It seems that my choice to come here in search of guidance was a good one, and I thank the Silver Moon for her hospitality even as I depart for another temple!"

Indeed, she sets about stowing her still-wrapped ancestral weapon back beneath her cloak, before drawing the garment tightly around her, securing it (and especially its hood) as best she can. "Ready? Then once more into the white!", she exclaims from within her protection, setting out once again into the blizzard - though now with a new destination in mind... and the prospect of warmth to boot.