Imrama rises with the dawn to call his ship into being
Imrama walking through the air over one of the Cascade's many gardens, he begins hauling lines that are not there, pacing out the deck that exists only in his imagination.
Imrama the light of the morning sun begins to take shape under his feet and in his hands, forming into the hull and rigging of the Fable of the Reconstruction
Lucent finds Imrama walking over the air, creating his ship... "Now, that is a nice trick."
Imrama (HHS) "Thank you much, young king. I am glad to see you this morning; I hoped we might find time to talk before our next great adventure."
Lucent "Sorry." He shakes his head. "I never learned how to speak the Holy Speech."
Lucent smiles, (OR)"But good morning, at any rate." (FT) "Or do you prefer something more eastern?"
Imrama stops in his tracks for a moment, and turns to face Lucent directly. "I'm very sorry, Lucent - it is a matter of habit that I will need to set aside."
Lucent "Or I could learn. I always wanted to learn that, to tell the truth."
Imrama "I would be very happy to teach you. I am in the strange position of knowing a great deal about you, all that Thirteen has been gracious enough to share with me - but this is information and estimations that I have not earned."
Lucent "But I am terrible about learning things. I keep procrastinating... much like Birds' books. I wonder how many surprises I wouldn't have saved myself from if I had sat down and READ the damn things." He stops. "Thirteen has to stop doing that damn trick of his'."
Lucent ((Do over!))
Lucent "But I am terrible about learning things. I keep procrastinating... much like Birds' books. I wonder how many surprises I wouldn't have saved myself from if I had sat down and READ the damn things." He stops. "Thirteen has, eh? And... what has he shared with you?"
Imrama "Your history with the Circle, what he knows of you as a person and as a hero. I have the sense from it that we are of kindred spirits."
Lucent "We might be. I am from the sands, however..." Little motes of golden light like grains of sand play about him, then disappear. "And you are from the sky. You have me at a disadvantage, though... I know nothing about you yet."
Imrama "Birds is composing a story for me as we speak, but I will give it to you simply:
Imrama "As an infant, I was a foundling in the northern wastes. The Shogun of Artificial Flight, long banished from the unions of the gods, found me, and chose to raise me as his child.
Lucent "Like I told you, I have really slacked in reading Birds' books... she will probably be mad at me when she finds out." He nods, listening to his story... "Ooh, Valineth!"
Imrama "I lived with him in his hermitage, learning to fly his skyships and reading from his library, until I reached my majority when I set out to seek my fortune among the thrice-damned Haslanti." Imrama spits.
Lucent "I take it that did not go well for you?"
Imrama "They appreciated my talents, which applied well even to their infantile crafts, but they looked on me as an alien and a stranger - my mind, my body and my soul each marked me as out of place."
Lucent "That must have been hard..."
Imrama "It was lonely, and angry-making, for a time. And then I took the second breath, and caught a glimpse of who I once was, what the world once was. I spent several years in an effort to reclaim lost things." Imrama geustures to his sidearms and his coat.
Lucent "And that is when you learned the High Holy Speech? Ssithui told me how... rare, they are those days. It must have been hard to find them outside of Rathess..." He looks quite sad, as he says this.
Imrama "When I returned from my sojourn in the Wyld, I found Creation in chaos, largely due to the efforts of old enemies of my father. And I learned of a band of my siblings, standing against the Lily and building a nation in the South East. I came as fast as I could." At this last line, Imrama's speech becomes far more heavy, and melancholy.
Lucent "And it was not a good time..."
Imrama "I was raised speaking Old Realm, the language natural to gods. Vanileth taught me the High Holy Speech as well - he remembered it fondly from brighter days."
Lucent "Oh, I see. It was Valineth. And I will take you on your offer, Imrama... I wish to learn it. I would probably have made Ssithumi happier if I could give her someone else to talk to in that language."
Lucent shakes his head. "Our experiences meeting the Circle were as different as night and day, Imrama. I first saw them as... glorious, grand, sure. Nothing could possibly threaten them, and even the threats I saw in my fears, they dismissed without much thought."
Imrama "That introduction matches your reputation among your circle-mates: I understand you have a gift for seeing the light in things/"
Lucent smiles. "I hope that does not mean you see the darkness in them."
Imrama "No; I have been accused many times of being a dreamer. There is a word long out of favor even in the old tongue: Utopia. I look on the world, and I see what might be."
Imrama "I have spent much time plowing the sea of dreams, Lucent; you have just returned from the world of shadows. How much of your sunny disposition now remains intact?"
Lucent "Then we really are kindred spirits. That is all I want, a better world. I thought of it during the whole time in my pilgrimage... I believed in an ideal of the world that shattered. I had to come up with a new one." He walks up to the end of the garden, looking at the Sunlands below. "I decided to do what makes them happy."
Lucent turns back to Imrama with a smile. "Does that answer your question?"
Imrama "It does, Lucent, and quite effectively." Imrama takes out a long pipe and begins to smoke a sweet-smelling herb, looking out toward the sunrise.
Lucent "I looked into the heart of shadows, Imrama... and you know what I saw? Pain, despair, fear... but not malevolence. Not real malevolence. I looked into a face of frozen evil and saw what could be a friend."
Lucent "In the end... it seems that all we need, is to find a way for everyone to be happy."
Imrama smiles broadly. "We appear to be even more alike that I had suspected, Lucent Copper Haze. May I share a concern with you then, now we have established the similarity in our respective natures?"
Lucent "Please do."
Imrama "When I finally learned the truth of my former self, of his life, his love, his hopes and his failures; something about it left me ill at ease. I feel as though there is some small but vital piece still missing in the story of how the last age fell."
alsoquin As Imrama speaks these words, Luc feels something wash over him, so familiar... the hot charnel-breath of a Primordial cast into darkness.
Imrama "My ancestor was certainly imperfect, as are we all, and his cohort capable of all the horrors and wonders within the scope of human nature. And yet...
Lucent blinks. "Like... what? We do know that Atomnos and his brethren used the Seals to corrupt the Perfected Circle... we do know that Rosada begun to work with the Neverborn before... that are players and motivations we do not know about yet, sure... but do you have any idea what that is?"
Lucent listens and ponders. "And yet?"
Imrama "I feel as though the story is incomplete: there were once many of us, and it seems we fell into complacent despair. Knowing that there would be no new scions of the sun to continue their civilization, our forebearers allowed it to crumble into dust, or fell prey to the machinations of those they had bested with ease in the past."
Imrama "There must be more at work than the natural weakness of our higher and lower souls. My sense of the capacity of human life demands that I believe so."
Lucent "You figure that was not like them... us... to fall like this?"
Imrama "I hope that it was not, I hope strongly enough to call it belief. For if it was by their mortal natures alone that our ancestors fell, then that fall may be a condemnation of every human that has ever breathed or will ever breathe. But I must believe that fate is an escapable one, and so I must believe that there is more to the story than I yet know."
Imrama exhales a long puff of smoke, and continues to stare into the distance, silently.
Lucent "You are right. I know you are right."
Lucent flaresh is caste mark... the perfect golden circle with the crescent shadow sliver, tapping the crescent. "For on the moment you said this, the dead Primordial watching through my eyes drew his breath tightly."
Imrama 's eyes widen, and he takes the pipe from between his teeth. "That is...odd. I had not thought that a Malfean would be the source of my joy this morning, but I am glad for any sort of confirmation. Hope is a scavenger, and will feed on anything that may sustain it."
Lucent grins. "Now, that is an interesting way to put it."
Lucent "Should I schedule my next trip to the Underworld now?" He looks up at the shining ship of essence... "In true golden style and with my companions, this time?"
Imrama shakes out the ash and puts away his pipe. "We have much before us, Lucent. I hope that when next any of us visit the Underworld, it as a Circle. The Fable will carry us there in relative comfort and in a stately fashion."
Lucent "I fully agree. After what I found last time, it would do no good to try and hide my existence as I did last time. The 'unassuming' part of my guise did not last long at all." He sighs. "We will go in the Fable. And we will bring it down until we have answers."
Imrama "Excellent." Imrma gives Lucent a look that is both serious and friendly, and extends a hand. "I am glad to know you, Lucent Copper Haze. I look forward to saving Creation together."
Lucent brings his hand to Imrama's, wreathing both in his anima. "I am glad to know you, Imrama. Even in those shadows... with you, the new Thirteen... things are looking up. Something tells me we will walk out of this shadow brighter than we ever were."
Lucent stops then... "Say... I was looking for some flowers for my bethrothed... can you help me, Imrama? What kinds of flowers does a sky-walker likes?" Well, they both walked into the air! Clearly, they must have something in common!