The Dark Lake was quiet. A biting wind stirred the trees, encouraged inky wavelets on the yet unfrozen lake, sent a single stream of chimney smoke into a lazy plume. Most of those who worked there had been given respite from the Rhydin winter and sent to take their holidays where they pleased. Yet, purposeful movement was apparent as a pair of guards garbed in uniform black walked the snowy grounds, accompanied by a lanky, shadow-furred feline. They slowed to watch Lucien's silent approach, recognized him, then continued on their way.

In a small, shielded room off the Manor's library, Alysia was examining a small relic purportedly from an ancient civilization once found east of Rhilshen. It was a simple bit of glass bound into a smooth and untarnished silver sphere, something she'd recently procured from a semi-reputable dealer at the Marketplace. She gradually became aware of an intangible tickle at the edge of her mind, but continued her study. The amulet chimed softly under the touch of her fingers. It was a soothing, melodious sound, hinting at a long-forgotten song.

Eventually, that intangible and warm sense of familiarity became clear, startled her to the point she dropped the amulet. It crashed with a chord of dissonance, and with that sharp noise, she cursed fluently and focused on her immediate surroundings. Her left hand edged toward the hilt of her soulsword, ever close.

The Priestess scowled and hugged her shoulders. She was suddenly aware of just how cold the place was.

And someone was knocking rather precisely upon the Manor's front doors.

Couldn't be. . . Alysia felt her heartbeat quicken. She shook her head, swiping a lock of sleek white-gold away from her face and behind a pointed ear, then leapt to her feet, heading for the main entrance.

The Priestess stared at the barrister, blinked those fiery crimson eyes a few times. "Lucien?" Her elfin features, normally held as close to impassive as possible, were set in an expression of pleased surprise and some warmer emotion she didn't bother to hide. Alysia finally stepped forward, reaching for his hands and pressing a featherlight kiss against the side of his face. "I thought it might be you. Would you like to come in? It's a bit cold out there."

As Lucien brushed a kiss across the back of her hand, Alysia's narrow fingertips found and traced the small scar, partly out of familiarity, partly to reassure herself that it was still there, a physical representation of something intangible.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Alysia."

It's never an interruption, beloved. Not giving voice to her thoughts, she was aware of the shadows of his somber mien, could almost taste the impressions of memories lurking under the surface of his thoughts. "Don't be silly," Alysia murmured gently. "If you were interrupting something, I'd have left you standing outside. In the chill, too, not that it's much better in here."

She started toward the kitchen, where the hearth was lit almost constantly and there was the resulting promise of warmth and something hot to drink. "C'mon," she temporized, "I'll make you some coffee. And you can tell me what brings you here today, across ice and snow."

If that didn't send him screaming out the door in terror, he was a brave, brave man.

The bite of winter's cold was not completely warded off by hearth and oven, and the Priestess scowled momentarily at the Manor's ever-present chill, stoking the fire with a thought. Comforted by the leaping flames, she finally set a heavy mug of something strongly resembling coffee in scent and appearance near Lucien and nodded with a smile toward it. "It won't kill you. I promise." She took a seat nearby, lifting crimson eyes to the barrister. "What's on your mind?"

He shook his head, chasing the clutter of thoughts threatening against the edges again, lifting his eyes to meet the Priestess' gaze and reached for the mug with a chuckle. "Thanks." He took a drink from the heavy mug before he started to speak again, taking the moment to gather his thoughts. "I...was...," He paused to try and find the appropriate word. "remembering some things. Thinking about things you'd said before."

"Remembering." The word was repeated in a thoughtful contralto. "That could be good or bad," she temporized carefully. "I've said a number of things I regret. Hasty words, hot temper." Alysia shrugged, falling silent for a time.

He shook his head and reached his free hand to take hold of hers. "No, it's nothing like that I remembered. You said you didn't even know what happened to us. And I've been thinking about that," he voiced quietly. His brow knitted into a furrow once more as he focused, warding the swirl of memories that lingered in the periphery.

As he started to frown, she reached up and touched his brow. "Thinking too much?" It was a forced attempt at a light-hearted tone. I still don't know what happened, she thought.

The deep furrow eased at her touch and he found himself to smile. "Or trying not to think too hard, maybe?" he offered in a light tone of jest. "Or remembering too hard," he added quietly. "I've been...I er..." he stopped and shook his head and simply confessed. "I think I'm losing my mind, Alysia."

"Wha- What?" With that uncharacteristic stammer, Alysia leaned back and stared at him. A number of responses were considered, then she simply asked, "Why d you think that?"

"Everything is a jumble. Things said, people I know, places and...it's all a jumble. Up here." He reached up to tap the side of his temple, his brow creeping into a furrow again. "I hear voices...our voices. Our friends and foes..." He shook his head to ward off the rush of the past and refocus on the present, "That's not what I came here to tell you. Well not all of it."

She offered a short, rather acidic laugh, commenting, "It's important, beloved. Whether or not that's what you wanted to talk about. Could you . . . quantify when it started?" A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, shaping an expression of cynicism. She didn't really expect an answer to her next question. "When I struggled with madness, my excuse was trying to keep three sets of personalities and memories straight. What's yours?"

The mug was taken up and he took another drink from it, his features taking on an expression of concentration. "Right before I returned to Rhydin. That's when it started," he finally determined. His ice blue gaze rose from the contents of the mug back up to the Priestess. "I have no excuse for it."

"I was teasing," she commented mildly, lowering her gaze. A frown of concern darkened her features as she considered his words and the possible implications. "Madness is probably not something I should jest about. Accept my apology?"

The mug was pushed aside and he took hold of her hand and pressed a kiss to it. "You have nothing to apologize for, Beloved." A crooked smile hinted at the corner of his mouth. "I guess one side effect of this is the dulling of my funny bone."

"The hell you say, I can admit it wasn't funny to start with," snorted Alysia. She grew rather somber and still, watching his hand where it held hers. "D'you have any idea at all what happened. . . I mean -- to your thoughts, your memories. I'm no mind mage."

A distant memory rose from the chaotic swirl and he closed his eyes briefly at the recollection...

A silver haired elfess, a Blood, a friend, remarked in a teasing tone and smirk to the nudge he gave her in passing. "Don't let Emma see ya doing that..."
His reply came with an almost resigned smile. "At this point I think there is little I can do that will not make Emma want to skin me alive."
"True....Doesn't seem to bother your Main Squeeze though..." The Blood then reached over and ruffled his hair. "She suits you."
"You think so?"
"Does she make ya smile?"
He chuckle. "Yes."
"Toes curl at a glimpse across the room?"
He laughed freely. "Yes that too."
"Then she suits you," he heard the Blood's definitively assessment...
...and smiled.

Lucien brushed his thumb over her hand, needing the reassurance the touch was real. "No." A pause, then a shake of his head. "I don't know."

"I can..." That memory returned as he closed his eyes once again. "I remember when Go said you suited me. I can remember the smell of that evening we went to the carnival. I can feel how anxious I was when I had asked Phen to make the ring for you."

The priestess arched an eyebrow in a droll expression. "One might wonder if you'd been imbibing bloodspice."

He chuckled. "Maybe I should start? Maybe it'd clear things up for me?"

"Trust me," drawled Alysia. "It'd only make it worse." Uneasy with the implications, she chose not to explain that comment and trapped one of his hands between both of hers. "But is that what it's like. . . ? Becoming overwhelmed by . . . I don't know, re-experiencing a fragment of your past?"

His expression eased a bit and his tone held a measure of self-effacing levity. "Sometimes it isn't so bad and I've gotten good at making people think I'm just distracted. Not a hard thing to convince people of." Expression and tone, both took a more sober color. "Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning and I don't know what is real and what isn't anymore."

"Maybe you're recalling things you should learn from? " Her comment was very quiet, then - "I suspect it's all real, to some extent. . . memories are." Alysia wrinkled her nose in an attempted grin that warmed into a true smile. "We'll work it out. One way or the other."

Lucien nodded slowly and his expression eased. His grin turned to a short bark of laughter. "I even remembered that time you introduced me to your nephew Gavin."

"Oh yes. One of Glenn's brood." She grinned widely at that recollection. "He was remarkably well-behaved for a ShadowSkye."

The crooked grin turned to a full smile. "Yes the young man was. And he took your ribbing well." He nodded once more. "And you're right. Perhaps I am supposed to learn from this. And hopefully I am." Lucien reached over and placed his free hand over hers. "I remembered the time you mentioned something about my having secrets of my own. I don't want that to be there between us. So whatever it is, ask and I'll tell you."

A furrow marred his brow once more as he focused on her storming gaze. "A start for...?" his query silencing then. "I don't want to keep anything from you, Alysia. Silly or otherwise. I won't," he amended firmly.

"Two things. " She attempted to clarify her thought processes with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. It's a start, for me to deal with whoever it is that wants you dead. And. . . I guess, a start for me to ask you something, rather than just assuming." She let her hands fall to her side and shrugged eloquently. "It would only be fair for me to return the offer, had you questions for me." Alysia rested her chin upon the back of her hand.

The barrister opened his mouth to start speaking, then stopped. Lucien then voiced quietly. "Be careful, Alysia. Be careful of the DCH."

"They can't blow up my home," she muttered. She had made an educated guess about the origin of the nefarious DCH and was fairly certain her protections were sufficient. "And they already want you dead. What else could they do to me?"

He nodded in concession. "I can only think of one question to ask you."

"Just one?" she asked, both brows arched. Green firewood popped and snapped in the kitchen's hearth as it was consumed, punctuating the silence.

"Aye. Just one," he reiterated with another nod. "Would you consider marrying this barrister going insane again?"

"Indeed, only a madman would ask that of me," she began, surprise evident in her dry contralto, "particularly given our history, beloved. But I would have to be insane myself to say no." Alysia leaned forward and gravely kissed the tip of his nose. "So, yes, I would consider that."

Lucien wrinkled his nose then stood to steal a kiss from Alysia's lips before she leaned back from him. "I've missed you," he offered again in hushed confession.