Questions and Memories

It's a small room that Menel has been granted, taken up mostly by the small bed and the tableside stand which... is mysteriously missing at the moment. Actually it sits outside the room in the hall. Moved to make space for the man himself whom is standing on one hand. He moves with careful grace, balancing himself on a single axis and moving his body around that point. His legs twist and rotate slowly and then suddenly he shifts to his feet, feeling or sensing perhaps the presence of someone else.

He's wearing leather armor now, much better than what he had been wearing when he first arrived. And as he finds his footing, his sky-blue eyes searching the doorway he takes in hand two swords and sheaths them without looking; one on either side.

"Sser? One heard you had recently arrived, sser?" A rustscale pokes his head 'round the door. One might note the door covers much of him, protectively, or perhaps--that's simply how they stand, lizards.

Or there isn't much room in the hall. The table, right? It would take up room.

...

"Are you in need of anything else, sser?"

"Ah, yes." Menel offers a warm and friendly grin, his weapons sheathed now and his form completely unthreatening. "Sorry about the table. There's not enough room in here for practicing while its in here." He offers a somewhat self-effacing expression and scrubs a hand through his short white hair. "I hope I wasn't disturbing anyone... and no, no I'm fine!"

Chay glances where the table had been, then back. "This one understands, sser. I...this one was sent to tell you that there'ss been a breakthrough in the cure, sser. Word is being spread quietly, ser--one. One trusts you may understand."

The tail flickers, moves side to side. Chay tilts his head as well.

"A cure!" Menel's blue eyes widen and he takes a small step forward. "Stars that's good news! Tell me more; please come in!" He motions toward the other to come into the room, even taking a seat on the bed to make more space for the sith-makar.

"...what are your viewss on the sslugs being parasites, sser?" Chay hesitates at the door, but comes in. The sith-makar ducks his head--door reverence--as he enters. He keeps his voice low.

"I haven't heard that much about what people think it is at all. I haven't gotten many visitors." He doesn't seem particularly concerned about this fact, but perhaps a little sad. "But it could be. Whatever it is, it's surely magical. And likely very powerfully. I wish I knew more about magic but... If I did I might be able to help more." Now he definately looks sad, and thoughtful. "This one ssuspects they are, sser. The magic is a rare sspell, possessed by those who practice a certain hunter's magic. Its success is rare, sser." The tail flickers, moves. Chay looks at him, focused and quiet. He doesn't...the tail droops, and he looks away. "Perhapss if we knew more of where it come from sser, the magic could be amplified. As it is, sser...the Altheans are working on it, sser. And one ssuspects, the Vardamen, soon."

"Everyone seems to be working on it." Menel nods and looks up, flashes a smile that's not as fully formed as his last. It's hard to smile when you have so much on your mind as he so clearly does. "If there's anything I can do to help... I just don't know what to do. I don't know what would help. I mean... knowing about Her isn't going to help you very much I don't think." "One...this one ssuspects it is hard to ssee a puzzle if there are pieces missing, sser. Everything would help, sser. If you would care to sshare words with this one, he will carry the tale."

Chay looks down and to the side. Then up, as though he'd just had an idea. "...Perhaps describing what She looked like, sser? It may be a piece, for all this one knowss," the reptilian says. He sounds apologetic, unsure.

Menel watches Chay for a moment then takes a breath, rising to his feet slowly. He has the look of someone who would pace if not for the lack of space in the room. "Of course, whatever will help." He nods and licks his lips, looking off to the side with a distant expression. "She's... just a tiny thing. Pale, and Her hair is white like snow. She matches Her environment; cold as ice even to the touch. So bitterly cold as if Her touch could freeze you. And She's cold in Her mind too. She's an elf though you can only tell sometimes because Her hair covers Her ears but when She's thinking She tucks it behind..."

It's the voice of memory. "She doesn't smile ever. Not even when She's happy. If She's ever happy. And... I don't know." Suddenly he looks down at Chay and his gaze is still a touch distant. "Is that what you mean?"

Undeath? Chay looks to the side to give the man space. "Sser, if one may be sso brave--one believes the description may help, sser. One suspects it may. ...did you...did you feel drawn to her, sser? Compelled, sser?" he asks, and adds the second word, 'compelled' more quickly.

A hand is scrubbed through pale hair once again and he looks... torn, caught by memory and by Chay's words. "I don't know. I don't know if I did what I did because I had to in order to survive... or if it's because She told me to. The things I did... I would never! I would never have done some of those things, but Her servant. He could make people do impossible things. Maybe She could too... But if She could command me to do them then I don't know how I ever gained the will to save those few I could." The words were in rounds a little, confused.

Chay glances over to the man. Then down again. "Then may one ssuggest, sser, to visit an area without magic? If your thoughts change there sser, over a few days--then perhaps, you may take other ssteps, sser?"

The tail flickers, flickers gently.

Menel blinks lets his hand fall. "A place without magic?" He chuckles. "Where in the world do you find a place without magic?"

"The cellars beneath the Arcanist'ss Guild, sser. Ssome of the victims have used it for sshelter," Chay says. He straightens. "Perhapss this one might get you ssome water, sser?"

The swordsman shakes his head. "No, I'm fine really." He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and shakes his head. Menel's eyes open a moment later. "I want to be of as much help as possible. If there's anything I can say, anything I know, or can do to stop Her. I have to. You guys... you don't understand what She /does/ to people."

"Vampires deal in compulssion, sser?" it's a statement, and half a question. Chay tucks his hands behind his back, and looks to the side and down.

Menel seems to think on this before nodding. "Kol Demontry. That... servant of Hers. He's a vampire. Like I've said. I've seen him make people do... all sorts of things. Things I don't think that they could have done without his influence. I watched him make a woman jump on one leg for hours."

"One imagines...that would hurt, sser," the scaled ventures a guess. He keeps his focus on the floor, and to the side. "What happened t--no, sser. We sshould not focus on that, sser." The tail flick, flicks.

It's too late really. Menel's expression folds in on itself and he sits on the bed again. "She's dead. Like so many others. I tried to keep track of names for a while. Tried to keep count. But there were so many. I couldn't even keep in mind the names of those I saved. Not enough." His hands curl into his bedsheets.

"...we musst never give into dispair, sser. If we sslip down that road sser, we ssurrender to our lowest instincts. When the path is dark sser, hope is ssomething we give oursselves. It is the meaning of inner sstrength, sser."

Pause. Look at the earth. Look up. "May thiss one get you ssome water, sser?"

Menel laughs. "I don't need any water, but I apprecaite your words. I don't even think I got your name." He places a hand on his chest briefly and then offers his hand. "I'm Menel, Menel Dinmorin."

"...Chay, sser. Of the hunter-caste. This one will fetch the water, sser. Perhaps you may not, but this one may need it," the scaled says. He lowers his muzzle--with claws, he dare not shake hands, and touch?

Never.

He backs out of the room.

-End