The Sea Forging Cold
Home and Wars

"It is well that war is so terrible - otherwise we would grow too fond of it."
Robert E. Lee



It was a violent night in that little jail cell.

The rage had come once more and it did so with a vengeance. He felt nothing as it came; just a swift, brick-wall onslaught of a rage he could neither explain nor remember when it ended.
But he was trapped.

And for once, that was ultimately, the better thing.

It possessed him entirely and he became the monster within stone walls.
But there was no prey for the predator.
No words of betrayal were spoken. No shouts of disdain were heard. No breaking of bonds were felt.
No partings were in the making.

So the rage was released upon the cell walls. He often thought in his years that walls could speak -- walls and other things could hold emotional remnants of those that touched or possessed them. Things, in essence, could speak.
Within the rage, he heard a female voice.
And he did not wish to hear her. He wanted her gone and gone forever.

----------------

-It happened again, vivid and real. She was twisting her deceptive coils around her prey. She guided with the touch of a shepherd's crook and the allure of a siren. And then she sprung her trap.

He stood listening to her and then to two beloved voices in anger. This was not what tonight had begun as. This was not supposed to be a tragedy in the making.
But it was.
He listened for as long as he could bear it and then he fled. He ran from the memory, moving from beachfront sand to cold, bone-smooth roads and the rain-blood that was so familiar.
His feet pounded on the surface as the rain fell upon him, determined to knock him down. Voices spoke up in the rain, many voices.

-Let us see ye live through this!-
-You are a friend.-
-Hear what House Aventeal has done?-
-I'm proud of you.-
-Traitor. Charged of treason.-
-Don't be in any hurry...-

The voices overlapped one another like a great whispering throng. They followed him as he ran -- taking stands as good voices against evil. It was a war of words, thoughts, emotions and understanding. Still, he ran until he could run no more.
He heard her voice and finally cried out in his mind.
"Be silent, you betraying taker-of-harmony!"
He was right.
She had taken harmony and stripped it clean. But she wasn't the only one.

The Hunter laughed in the rain.-

---------------

He came out of the insanity at just before dawn. It took almost an hour for him to regain his bearings and realise his whereabouts. It took him longer, far longer to control the tears falling from his eyes.
The righteous side of himself cried out in determination. Not for himself but for them.
Harold. Archie. 'Nathan. Cinder. Sarah. Kitty. Pendrell. Galos. Vicfryn. And many, many more over the years.
The evil side of himself screamed for justice, railed against the irrational thing. Abandonment. Failure. Fear. Anger.
Not-Silver. Not-Harold. Not-Archie. Not-Majidah. McGrath. Kaori. Fate. And the scars more than the names.

Renne pulled himself up off the floor and crawled wearily back up onto the bed that was his for who-knows-how-long. He pulled out his spyglass and held it close to himself.
Logically, he was glad that he was here.
And logically, he cried out for Home that he'd lit a candle for.

The Sea Forging Cold
Godsent Connections

"My armour is my mind. My shield is my memory. My blade. That is my pen."



Sunset was upon Rhy'Din by the time he'd come out of meditation and another futile attempt to straighten his mind out.
He kept on hearing the Hunter.
He still tried for many hours up until the sun began to sink beneath the horizon line.

It was then that he came out of it and penned another letter. He didn't have a clue where they were and he only knew one place to have his messages sent.
So only fate knew when they'd be found, if ever.
Who knew writing a letter could be both calming and harrowing at once?
He kept on and forced his mind to keep clear, determined to finish this one.

It wasn't to happen until later.
Some hours later.

The rage came down like a landfall and engulfed him before he knew it.
He attacked the prison-cell walls, mauled at the door and howled like some wild beast infected with rabies.
Even with all this, the true hell wasn't on the surface.

It was deep inside his mind, where the devils were invisible.

He struggled. He fought. He lashed out at the walls, the floor, the door. The monster raged until the exertion left him panting and crying in exhaustion.
His voice then let out that long, wailing howl until he could howl no more and fell into an exhausted state that was something akin to sleep.

The letter would be some hours late.
But it would get done and sent.

It was a mercy he hadn't expected to find in a place deemed a prison but this little spot was already beginning to turn up with some unexpected turns.
The holders of this place didn't lash at him once.
They didn't pin him down.
The most marvelous thing was that they let him write his words.

It was a small mercy that could change a world.

The rocks slowly made their way along the docks. Luckily with it being nighttime and all, rarely anyone noticed the two chicken-egg-sized rocks that were rolling all on their own. And if anyone did, they probably thought they were hallucinating from too much alcohol.

Eventually, the rocks finally hit the door of the South Port Holding Houses. They continuously rapped on the door until someone answered it.

The Evening Warden grunted a bit as he peered up from the front desk; seeming that the evening receptionist forgot to tell him that he was going on his break.

"It's open."

No response. Just the continuous rapping. The Warden grunted again as he stood up slowly and stomped his way to the door; prepared to yell at the nightly hoodlums.

"If I catch ya'll. Ya'll be very sorreh."

But what he yelled was not heard by anyone. For when he opened the door, there was noone there. But there were two rocks that slowly split apart--like an egg cracking--showing a folded piece of paper. On the piece of paper--before even unfolded--it was stated for Horaetio Renne Arc'err. The Warden picked up the piece of paper and looked at it for a moment. It was the first known of anything for that Cell-Dweller. But he had specific rules for that one. He did not even open it, but by the time he did look back down towards the rocks, they were already gone.

Rather confused, The Warden simply shook his head and closed the door behind him. He then walked over a few steps, fished out the keys in his pocket to open the bars inorder to get into the long hall for all the Holding Cells. He then closed the bars behind him and pocket his keys again. Going down along cells; peeking in some every now and again, luckily it was late enough where most of them were sleeping. Granted there were only five there total; but he had to make sure anywho. Getting down to the last Holding Cell on the left--nearly four away from the others--he opened the piece of paper and slid it through the Peep-Window; not even bothering to read it. He then knocked on the door loudly.

"Finally someone realizes ya. Ya have a letter."

And with that, he walked away from the Holding Cell, going right back to the front desk; hoping that the receptionist is there so he could yell at him.


The letter was written how Renne can read it--with the raised letters. And plenty of his friends know how to do that, but there was only one person who would use the apostrophe punctuation so often...

Dearest Renne.
Ha'e I e'er told ye that I hate Outsiders--and ye do not count as one anymore. I hate Outsiders. And yer friends, Sarah and Cinder I belie'e their names were, were definitely not much of help whatsoe'er.

But if ye ha'e yet to figure out by now, yes, I am in the City. I am just trying to find the Holding Cells that ye are...umm...staying at.

I know I cannot say much, since I know that the Warden usually reads these things to make sure that all the words are allright. But if he does not read this, then good fer ye fer ha'ing such a strange accommodation.

To make this simple, I will do anything possible to get ye out of there and to make sure that yer punishment will not be too damaging. Now, granted I do not ha'e too much of the currency the crazy Many use here; but I will try me damnedest to get ye out of there.

Along the way to this hugantic City, I learned a few different languages. Me being half el'en, I ne'er knew one word from that language. So, a fellow tra'eler told I a few words that might help ye out with yer mental troubles.

Amin ten'nio ell ten min corm. Which roughly translates to "I am allways there fer ye, my Heart." I will find ye and rescue ye. I promise. Ye allways protected I.

Me turn.

Fore'er With Lo'e,

Your 'Nathan.
__________________________________________________ __________

(~I used the Holding Houses and the NPC Night Warden without permission. The person who technically runs the Houses and I could not get a chance to talk. And I also assumed the layout of the place. So, I apologize. But it had to be done.~)