The Last of Seven Sisters

The Castle on the Edge of Waking, time unknown

On the edge of dreams and the ethereal, there is a place. A castle sacred to Eluna, who gifts it to her most trusted servants from time to time, as a place of power. Much like dreams, it can be a place of happiness and sadness as well. This is, unfortunately, one of the latter times.

Telamon has brought Eztli here, stepping through the gate between worlds, and as they walk towards the castle's great hall, he offers the makari a smile. "You remember how this works. When I call upon the power here, it will open a door. We'll have to pass by the servant of Vardama -- I don't expect any trouble there -- and then we will meet with Asana." He exhales. "After that, though... I don't know what to tell you."

Eztli was... not doing the best, in the slightest. In a place of dreams, yet thoroughly and utterly exhausted, the small makari was looking disheveled to match the tiredness that permeated them.

The smile from Telamon was met with a mostly blank stare. "If they cause any trouble, I'll burn them to ash. They won't get in my way." Eztli answered bluntly. Then, a pause, and she sighed. "Call her Carver, please. That's always what she prefers."

Well, that was about what Telamon expected. But he places a hand on Eztli's shoulder. "One thing at a time."

The great hall spreads out before them, the banners of past lords fluttering on the walls and the black and silver of the Lupecyll-Atlons at the end. Telamon takes a deep breath, and bows his head, now that he's fully within his place of power--

There's no flash, no theatrics. Suddenly, another door, wooden and bound with iron. Not too dissimilar from most doors in Alexandria, really. And before it, an anonymous, unseen figure, draped in gray robes that hide everything. The hood looks from Eztli to Telamon, before the figure drifts aside. "The one you seek awaits within," it says in a toneless whisper. Nothing more.

Eztli, contrary to her exhausted state, had been fervently scanning the entire room the moment the entrance hall opened up. The hand on her shoulder barely registered on the sorceress.

And barely a moment after the door appeared, her gaze was locked on the door. There was a flicker of flames in her left hand, as if to make good on the threat, but it was short lived, turning to glowing ashes on the wind. Eztli sprinted to the unassuming door, but the moment she reached it she stopped, staring at it, her claws digging into the wood of the portal.

Roved Out to the Waiting Halls, as the Crone's Guest

Great Plains Expand beyond mortal ken beyond the humble door, expanding past endless horizons of gently swaying grass. It is difficult to ground oneself without landmarks, as they gaze upon a soul's final resting place, for this one is boundless and wild and free. Only the 'graves' of remembered companions scattered here and there provide relief from gently rolling hills and the great sky above. Not a cloud for any conceivable march. One could walk for lifetimes. Or ride, as the soul may have preferred in life.

A slim figure is seated not too far away, staring up at the sky with an expression of wonder at the world around her. Of her homeland made absolute, its bloodshed and hard cruelty smoothed to a polished beauty - forever free. With the swaying sunlicked grass, it is difficult to immediately place the figure.

Except a massive white warbow braced against a nearby gravemarker, with Carver's long red hairband swaying from where it is tied to the weapon.

Telamon looks unfazed at the change in scenery, and in honesty... he's not surprised. Carver once mentioned she was from Dran, and this definitely looks like it. As he steps through with Eztli, he gazes around. Yes... a place of peace. Where the strife has finally come to a stop.

His eyes fall on the figure, and he smiles slightly. He knows who it is -- who else could it be? But he touches Eztli's shoulder again, and nods. "Go to her. This is for her, and you. I am merely the guardian." A glance back at the robed servitor. "Well, one of them," he says with a small grin.

The moment of hesitation was not to be had, as the wood shifted effortlessly under her hand, placing Eztli at the entrance whether she was ready or not. The beauty of the area was lost on the makari, save for the figure sitting within it that her gaze snapped to immediately.

This time there was no hesitation, save for a singular grateful nod in Telamon's direction as Eztli sprinted across the plains, intent on burying herself in a hug with the ranger, or sending herself careening to the grass below.

Carver hears the tap of feet to earth, a distraction from her thoughts. Most things here did not move like blood and skin and bones. They obey the memory of blood and skin and bones, the things they do not possess but hold ephemeral connections too, transient passing sensations as souls become increasing untethered to mortal concerns. Still, it is enough to draw her out of dreamlike thoughts as she rises to her feet and turns to gaze back at the world behind her.

Just in time to catch the embrace, shock rippling through the 'body' as arms embrace her. It takes a second as she struggles to make sense of the unexpected.

Then she returns the embrace, perhaps one of their last. She does not speak. It is strange holding dreams in one's arms; dense but uncertain. Like capturing the sound of wind laughing -- half imagined but wonderfully magic.

He lets them have their moment. As many as they need, here in this place between death and dreams, wrought by the power of his goddess and his will. Telamon follows at a slower pace, pausing to inspect one grave-marker or another. But he makes no attempt to intrude... simply content to wait.

The servitor follows in his stead, and Telamon glances back at it. But evidently it's not very talkative, or emotive for that matter. Oh well.

Finding some manner of purchase, as ephemeral as it felt, Eztli hugged Carver close, balling the robes in her hands. The emotions she had been holding back, long after she thought they had been spent flowed out as the sorceress just sobbed openly.

"I-I was worried, when, when you didn't come back, and the spell didn't work, Carver." Eztli managed to squeak out between the sobbing.

Mada. Reida. Cassa. Lena. Suul. Asteris. The gravemarker that Carver's bow leans against? Asana Retzner. Lastborn and Last-Lived of Seven. Sister-Carvers. Their own stories. Their own lives. Their own ends. Made their own way. Well, 'Carved' their own way.

Ah, Retzner. Looks like 'this' Carver took Warrick's last name before the end.

The grass keeps swaying. A trill of wind howling. Anxiety.

"I wish that I could not cause you pain. I knew that it would but... I had a good reason but there will never be a satisfying one for making you carry on without me."

It never can be. Green motes swell with tears but she blinks them back, recognizing the Archmage behind Eztli finally. "Ah, thank you... for helping her. Helping us."

"It was no great undertaking. But Asana... Carver..." he corrects himself, if only for Eztli. "You are still loved. Still respected. No matter what happens. But..." His gaze drops to Eztli, and her tears. "I would call you back, even now. But I could not do so without your consent."

"If you have moved on, then there is -naught- I can do. Not even the Lord of Leca'fi Amdamu can gainsay the wishes of a shade and the will of the Harpist. But I must ask, if only once."

Eztli managed to choke back her sobbing as Carver spoke, the sorceress not wishing to miss a word spoken by the Ranger. She shook her head, burying it against Carver. "It's alright Carver, I-I understand the danger just, I'll fix things, okay? We'll fix things." She replied weakly, turning just enough to nod in affirmation in Telamon's direction. "Whatever's stopping you from coming back, I don't care how long it takes, but I'll fix it, okay? That's a promise, Carver."

"It was never your will, your strength of character that was at question, Ez." Carver says, smiling, gap-tooth briefly flashed but pain lingering there. "It was always mine." Closure. A 'good' reason will never be a satisfying one for hurting those you love. She exhales, still holding the daughter of Dragonier. Why? Why stay when she can return, fight more, fight with and live with those she proclaim to love. Instead? Stay here. Make them carry the burdens of war without her. Pain them with her choice.

"Do you remember the lich in the temple of Elune, deep in the Felwood? For some, it was a battle of heroes to stave off madman's ambition. For me? It was a glimpse of my true soul. Unbridled. I saw dozens, hundreds of me across... I dunno, timelines, existences, dreams. So many and so different but all the same in one way."

Breath, her own throat clenching tight around a sob swallowed back.

"I meant what I said when I challenged Mudgett, that I understood him."

"Cause in so many lives, I was him. Mongrel and murderer. So many did not have a Telamon to give sage wisdom. For a Warrick, to whittle arrows with and remind me to buy a helmet and a little sister to play in the snow with. A ridiculous skypirate friend who still got me to laugh while on a hunt... a love who would shove mountains to bring me back, Ez. I was so much more in this life than those one thousand deaths, no matter how grand I was. I died a vicious beast, soaked in blood and glory but more blood than glory can ever clean."

"You need love. That's the difference. I died with love in my heart and not hate."

"If... there is any hope for the little mongrels of my souls across it all? That they too glimpsed all the little fractures of my souls, that can be a lesson that might save them. It's the lesson you all taught me. I did not die. I sacrificed... I only regret that I demanded even more strength and forgiveness from all of you."

That was the answer he feared. Telamon knows that the priests of the temples know their business, and the call would not have gone unheeded without reason. Sometimes... a soul's time on Ea is done. Whether for good or ill. The archmage's eyes drop to the grasses here on this plain. Innocent. Uncaring of strife and blood and glory.

"I understand," he says finally. His voice is heavy with regret, and sadness -- for Eztli even more than himself. "But carry this with you, Carver. You were more than just a mongrel or a killer. You were always more, always better. You walked fearlessly into the dark places and you strove to leave them a little brighter." He offers her a smile. "I will not forget that."

Eztli remained quiet, latched on to every word said, every expression, every movement. If not to etch the moment to memory, then simply to, make sense of everything. "Of course I remember Carver, I remember how you felt after, but we got through it, right?" The sorceress nodded, doing her best not to break down again as her expression was clenched in place. "But, why do you need to do that to help them, to.. help you?" She wondered. "How does this help you?"

"We did..." Carver says. "You are right, it does not help me but my life was never going to be forever, Ez. No powerful magic, no powerful friends, no great relic was going to change that, we are fated to be born and then die and the struggle of life between these moments are where we are defined. I cannot even tell you that this will save them. If they exist at all. I only believe that they do as I believe that this might."

Never going to be a satisfying answer for the pain. Never. "I can only ask that you forgive me, because iffin' the roles were reversed, I know how this ends. Please. Just let me take a little bit of your light into the dark. To save them like you all saved me."

He doesn't want to do this. It goes against his heart, but... Carver speaks truth here. And every story has an ending. So Telamon approaches the two. "Eztli... every story has its end. I don't want to admit that, any more than you want to hear it. All we can do is carry her in our hearts, and try to keep doing what she would want. To be that light in the darkness."

His gaze moves to Carver, and he nods to her, approving. "We will save others, Carver. I think that's a better memorial to you than anything else we could build."

"I know, I know, we talked about this so many times, and, it was okay, right? Even if it's short, that was irrelevant just... not like this." Eztli answered, unable to keep character any more as the tears returned. "It was supposed to be so many more years, so many more."

The makari chuckled weakly, painfully, with a small shake of her head. "You're making me feel selfish for wanting you back, I guess I am... but how can I argue with that? It's because I care, but, doing that, would mean not caring about every other version of you out there..." She sighed. "I could, it doesn't need to be a bit, does it? I could go with you, wherever you go, Heth made sure there's not much left for me again..."

"Pain and despair are twisted landmarks, Ez." Carver says gently. "To roads not fit for you. When it is your time, we can walk together across plains and through great halls... but, when it is truly your time."

Telamon's hand rests on Eztli's shoulder. "And in time, you'll find her again," he says gently. "They're not called the Halls of Waiting for nothing."

He looks wearily at the silent servitor, before his eyes go back to the pair. "Time is running short, though. We have our own battles to finish, before our story ends." He gives Eztli's shoulder a squeeze. "And if you seek wisdom, or just comforting words... I will guide you."

Nodded slowly, giving Carver another hug. Again her attention was torn away, to Telamon, and to the watcher that had been nearby. The sorceress let out a low growl of pain and frustration. "I didn't realize time was so limited, and I've wasted it on just crying, and feeling sorry for myself." Eztli sighed. "I... sorry, I'll keep that in mind. But I'll stay as long as that one lets me, All this crying, but, I don't want to say goodbye."

She choked back a few more sobs, and nodded. "But I'll hate myself even more if I don't properly say goodbye. And I need to go over everything necessary for taking care of Deathless, right? And... anything else you need me to put in order..."

Carver takes Eztli's hands, "Goodbye 'until' Hello. Carry a little light into the dark for me." Deathless, ah. "Make sure Warrick and Cynthia know I love them, deliver them my great bow and the vault's contents of mine and your name, so that when she knows what she wants in this life, that she can walk toward it without fear... and live wild and free for me, with a smile."

"Goodbye, Archmage. Thank you for all the wisdom you shared with me... and goodbye, Ez, thank you for too much to give in words." The kiss to the sorceress's snout is brief but sweet. "Goodbye and... farewell."