Topic: Criss cross through ancient loss

Kiema Buie

Date: 2008-03-04 18:35 EST
For all the chill of the breeze that sang its haunting tune up from the docks into the streets of Seansloe, the bright sun and blue sky warmed the body and the spirit with a prelude to coming spring. Kiema hummed a soft melody as she walked, shared smiles of greetings with strangers, and ventured on to the Artisans Guild Hall. It was not far off of the Market Square, closer to the northern woods than most of the Guild Halls except the Smiths Guild.

Outside of her ties to the Circelus, the Artisans Guild, or in Rhydin, Minstrels Guild was her extended family and friends. It had been months since she had visited and lightness to her step as sweet and swift as if to dance, carried her to its doors.

The harsh strike of dissidence clanged in her mind when she spied that familiar face. His clothes were of the fashion, the face unblemished and alluring as art, and yet his frequent appearance in her path both here and Rhydin flared up a trumpet blast of caution.

An unmistakable need to solve this began a low tremolo of courage. He saw her and smiled and it was enough. The dance left her steps and a slow march began to the man who made no move to anywhere. He stood as if waiting for her there, that their meeting was intentioned, and she was only coming late to their rendezvous.

His bow was of crafted elegance and Kiema reached talent out to read his emotions as she spoke. ?Who are you??

?Ah, not fair to read into my soul, Mistress.? The soft hint of gleaming humor in his eyes filtering to green, he spoke on, ?I am but one of you.?

?No,? she could sense the taint in him, ?No, you are not Changeling, you are Wildling. Anathema to my people. I feel the madness is a drumbeat for your purpose.?

She turned from the Wildling, but his hand gripped her arm hard, his eyes dark and unfeeling, ?Curse what you do not know, Kiema. Hide in the precepts of that ancient pompous rigidity of the Circelus. I know you. I know what you can do.?

His hand was like an iron vice on her arm. People were taking notice and either moving further away or slowing their steps to help. ?Let me go, Wildling.?

?Meras is my name.? But he did let her go, the switch of his demeanor as swift as the snuffing of a lamp. All smiles and kind manners, he bowed again and walked on. Some few passersby looked with questions in their eyes, but she gave them smiles and sent out threads of ease to settle them on to their way.

The Guild would have to wait.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2008-03-31 12:41 EST
It was, in its atypical way, an interesting time at the inn. Like a cancer riddled heart, it beat the rhythms of the city and harbored its more eclectic residents. As a method of transition, Kiema stopped there first to attune herself to the melodies, discordant and harmonic in flux not unlike the ephemeral Nexus.

There had been a good turn, the music had been simple and soft, with few taking note and one even offering coin. The notice and the token appreciated fully, for each held their quality. Yet, the hour was late and the time to seek the comforts of the bed in the Minstrel Guild hall was the trumpeting voice foremost in her thoughts.

In care against the drizzle of the unrelenting skies, she kept her cloak about her, fingers curled in its edges to keep it closed. She was not the only one so dressed or keeping a quick pace to her feet. A splash of a passing carriage danced her away and under the shelter of a doorway. Drawing down the head cover of her cloak, she looked over her skirts and shook them away from clinging their soaked state against her boots. Before she ventured out again, she watched the passing of others.

Ewan had been taking his tour of the city, checking with his connections, and general status of Yransea interests in preparation for the time away. The rain did not trouble him, but he took turns being above ground and below. The exit from the Tunnels brought him up into the alleyway of two buildings near the market. It was not a convenient thing when people took shelter in doorways. Their eyes often traveled into the darker places when not distracted by the requirements of avoiding traffic as they moved along the streets. In this it took extra care to avoid being seen, and paused at the corner of the building until he was certain none had observed him.

It was in this moment that he spied the minstrel, and so dismayed at seeing her, he took one last cautionary look about before hailing her and crossing the road to meet underneath the protective overhang of the closed shop. ?Kiema, what the swords and arrows are you doing here??

As a string turned taught, her body tensed at the hail and just as quickly unspooled against that tension into an easy smile. Dark eyes drifted into a blending sea of blue and green. She gave him a hug in greeting and felt it shared before she answered the question. ?Am I banished from visiting at my own leisure??

Ewan found the question to be leading and avoiding his question at the same time. ?You know you are not, but I also know you do not travel here without purpose.? He motioned for them to walk on. The rain had worked its way into the soaking of his clothes, and it made no different to continue in its attentions now. ?It is of peculiar timing when I am to leave day after tomorrow for a long excursion.?

In their years of working together, she could tell a comment cast in lure waiting for her to take its bait. ?Why I am here has nothing to do with you, Ewan.? She relented at least that much.

?Or it could have something to do with me, but you would rather I was not involved, so you planned for my absence.? He eyed her as they made their way towards the Marketplace. Both his home and the Minstrel Guild Hall were within close proximity, so neither felt obligated to walk out of their way.

?It is not without some truth, Ewan. If I feel the matter goes out of my depth, I will call upon you at your return.? The soft rain tickled her skin, and she wiped her hands across her cheeks.

Ewan nodded, not able to force anything upon her. He held absolutely no sway over her dealings, and yet there was still that connection, the deep friendship and their past. It was because of this, he pressed on. ?What is the matter drawing you here??

She should have expected his question as one expects the refrain upon the closing of a verse. ?I am not certain at this moment; only the recurring meeting with a Wilding both in our home world and here.? She stopped at the doorway of the Guild Hall. ?Come in to warm??

Ewan frowned at her words and looked up at the building, the memory of her attack here not far from his mind. But he shook his head at her offer. ?My home is not far. Tomorrow night, let us meet at the inn.? Another glance cast to the building, ?Are you sure you wish to stay here??

Kiema smiled and touched his arm. There was no need to send a thread out to him and sense what he is feeling. His concern was more close to the surface. Perhaps the touch of Storm upon his personality that he did not hide so much, or maybe she just read him better in the time apart. ?I think it will be well, and perhaps lead to my needs more quickly.?

A smirk and shake of his head, ?Do not fall from any second story windows, please.?

The melodic laugh sang out, ?I will do my best to heed your warning. Good night, Ewan.?

?Walk safely, Kiema,? he returned and made his way on to his home and the opportunity to become dry once more. The news Kiema shared brought a restless brewing to his thoughts, but as he opened the door to his house, he banished those the thoughts, locked them away to keep them from his family.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2008-04-07 16:18 EST
The inn had warmed, the conversation lightened, and she was ready to set her feet to the streets and coax the Wildling out to face her. As she walked between pools of light and darkness, she thought back on the Barrister. It was difficult for her to not think on him, and the tune she played reflected that thought. Notes half step lower into diminishment, melancholy mixed in bright the music flowed out from the instrument. The man likewise had shown good humor even against the shadows that lingered around his eyes.

People smiled in their passing or eyed her strangely. Everything was a blend of dark and light, the questions and the comments, the laughter and the grumbles all around her until she heard the steps follow her. The song continued as did she to draw the follower along away from the open space of the Marketplace. Steps that traced a dance, but direction kept forward, until she reached the street that lead to the Minstrel Guild Hall.

A slow turn at the final three notes and she faced him. ?Meras,? she near sang his name as if it, too, were part of the melody she had played, the final note of it.

?Why did you come here?? His eyes were dark.

Kiema smiled, ?The reason you need to ask that question is why I came here. Here, you and I are equal.? She watched him consider that truth. He dressed as before in the clothing of a merchant with the cross-tied cloak, well fitted trousers of finely woven cloth, and slashed sleeves and laced up doublet revealing a dark shirt beneath. There was nothing on the outside the said he was Wildling, untaught, untrained in the control of his manifest gifts. Gifts that he, like she, could not touch here in the heart of Rhydin.

?Why do you follow me?? She stepped forward and amazed to see him take a step back. ?You do not fear me.?

And yet, he did look suddenly afraid, questioning what he was doing and what he had done. ?You can burn it away, can you not, the feelings of others??

Kiema felt herself go cold all over as if icy fingers danced along her skin. ?If you were to live here, I would not need to burn it from you.?

More steps back from her, ?Here or there it does not matter. I feel it in fits and spurts. There!? he near cried out. ?Oh, I feel your fear.? Curling in on himself he turned, twisting his arms up to the center of his body as he hunched over.

A flash of fear she had felt and confusion. He could use his talents here when she could not. She remembered too well the inability to control what she felt. She followed him into the darkness, fear replaced with pity.