Aeraesar Who Says Aerai Eyes are Blue

[Erën]

Erën should have known better. But he, like many others, was tasked by this conflict. It drove him to push boundaries he'd long stayed away from, and go places he knew all too well to avoid. Arkhivom and his would have no such compunction, but of all places in this land, Nórë Sérë...

No soul who entered into what remained of that city ever left there the same. Erën, for his part, hadn't even made it so far as to see it. Ambushed by a pack of Gwathui, he wound up separated from his party and given chase.

More swift than most, he rushed over gnarled roots and through the cracks of thick brush. And for some time did the monsters chase him, long enough for him to be far away from that place, and after a while, far from the dreaded monsters, finally giving up their pursuit.

For a short while, knelt down near a softly running creak, he lingered and listened. He remained cautious, as the enemy was often times quite persistent. But, on his own, Erën was able to cover a great deal of ground very quickly. He doubted the fiends would be able to find him. Then, in the distance, he heard the sound of some voices calling to one another. They did not sound urgent or like the rallying of troops. Rather, more like the beckoning of one home for dinner.

Intrigued, he started through the forest toward the voices, and he started to wonder just how far he'd wound up taking himself.

 

[Hilte]

History always had a way of catching up and this was exactly why the surrounding forests and glens beyond the Village of Crue and the home of the elf hermit Hilte had been peppered by magical barriers, traps, and alarms.

Amidst the evening warmth, Hilte returned from a long wander through the trees with one arm looped through the handle of a wicker basket and the other pressing ferns from her path with the length of her wooden staff. Though the trees were thick near her home, sometimes the late evening sky broke through the canopy within the clearings along the deerpath. Hilte paused within such a place to take in the view of wane stars beginning to appear and the light of the moons pooling through the leaves overhead.

That was when she felt the tingle along spine. Normally the raising of hairs was only in response to a cool evening breeze. Tonight she saw the faint flash of her broken wards flare through the sky overhead like a shooting star that faded well before it fell.

"Hm," said the elf, "been a while since that's happened..."

She would need to investigate. After all, her traps were set off by the presence of malignant beings the likes of which had ruined far more lives than any had the right to count. Not just was their demise the drive to hasten her steps home and don her armor and mask, but many of those creatures contained essences and elements that were quite useful in crafting medicinal remedies.

The years had shifted a mind that so readily went only for the kill to one that also sought out purpose and use.

So off she went into the twilight.


~~~

"Daesca! Fallin!" the voice of a woman hollering into the edge of the woods, "Come in now, supper's on the - oh!"

She startled at the movement within the trees, spying the glimmer of white hair and the gleam of bright eyes, "That you Hilte? Have you seen ma pups? They went your way not an hour ago."

 

[Erën]

Long had it been since Aeraesar had been plagued by such evils. While their most hallowed grounds, their great cities had all been cursed and shrouded in darkness, even the spans in between fell victim to the monsters. While not everywhere was blighted, he had not yet fathomed that some place could be so... untouched.

And indeed, it was as he had thought! But the closer he drew, the more questions begged an answer.

Hilte?

As started out from the treeline, he lifted his hands as to show himself as friendly, and he declared, "I am Erën, and I'm afraid I've not seen any... pups."

He cast a look over his shoulder as a dour feeling fell over him.

 

[Hilte]

The woman's lip twitched at the absence of any pup sightings and she gave a sharp grunt in response, "Rangey kids... well they know the way home. Probably off catching firebugs."

But she gave Eren a look over, curiosity strong amidst assumption, "You her brother then?" A brow arched as she looked him over again a bit more slowly, then seemed to change her mind and dismissed the idea of a lover altogether.

"Too dour for that..." she muttered, "well if you're waitin' on her you can wait at the table. Got enough for a guest, 'specially if those pups don't come home soon! Come on then." With a wave she turned and headed back up the path toward the village.

 

[Erën]

Despite the caution that ebbed at him, the confusion of this place seemed to outweigh that by a degree. His attention snapped back to the lady in front of him as she made mention of a brother. But then this again was surmounted by the sheer audacity of this woman! Turning her back and meandering back toward her home.

He was of course not insulted by any means, but how casually she had taken to her children not being immediately present, that seemed peculiar. Still, he resigned himself to remain silent on the matter. After all, if they had persisted for this long despite everything that was happening around them, then perhaps this was just like any other time for them.

"Very well, then," he said. He wasn't particularly hungry, but some water would do.

 

[Hilte]

"Not seen another one of you around here before," said the woman as she walked, her stride slightly hobbled by an old injury or perhaps arthritis, "then again I suppose you lot like your privacy and I cannae fault you for that. With those two pups runnin' amok I can hardly hear meself think half the day..."

She continued to natter on about simple country living all the way back to town.

The Village of Crue was not a large place and hosted a population of less than 50 people with a smattering of multi-story homes to house families within in order to keep the footprint contained upward instead of outward.

It had an air of magic about it, though nothing actively detectable. Something about it would strike a newcomer as strange, off, ethereal. If the woman was any indication of the other residents, it seemed the people here lived without any worry or, perhaps, any knowledge of the wider horrors beyond their little hamlet.

"Name's Quinn," said the woman as she lead him past the first home and to the one that stood just beyond it. In through the front entry and down the hall to the kitchen, "Arn, got a guest."

"Is it Hilte?"

"No, not Hilte, think it's her brother..."

 

[Erën]

He couldn't help the feeling over wonderment that fell over him as he was led into this place. Crue was not a place particularly known to him. If he delved into the depths of the Shoraes with the intent of finding such knowledge then perhaps he would indeed find it, but for himself he could safely say he'd never heard of this place.

And too, the feeling the prevailed here, beyond his wonderment that it remained so untouched, was perhaps the reason why. The magic that was prevalent here did not go unnoticed by him, so attuned as he was. It was far to familiar to go unnoticed by the likes of he.

Even still, he could not place it, only perceive it in some distant sense. And it filled his mind with questions, evermore, as all of this had since the beginning. Further mentions...

Not seen another one of you....

Is it Hilte?... Brother?

They obviously saw a resemblance between he and someone else, and before long he surmised - with a relative surety - they were no doubt referring to none other than another Aerai.

As he entered into the dwelling, he asked, "This, Hilte you speak of? I do not know them, but I would speak with her if I could."

 

[Hilte]

"No?" Quinn asked as she moved about their kitchen and began to pull out extra setting pieces for their guest, "Huh - I'm sure you could when she comes through town on her evening walk. Every night, sure as the moon rises, she comes walking up the lane."

But on this night, even after supper (or just water, as it were for the stranger elf) the one called Hilte did not arrive as she usually did.

"Hmmm," remarked Arn as he sat in his chair on the porch with a pipe and a small cup of local brew, "late tonight."

The moons were risen and showing crisply in the clear skies above, washing everything in a silver sheen. It was a calm and peaceful night with the din of frogs and nightlarks broken only by the sounds of the evening insects or a hooting owl.

Time passed and Arn finished his pipe, tamping out the char in his cup and standing to go inside.

"If yeh need a place to stay for the night, we've a spare room in the back."

He bid the stranger a good evening and stepped inside, presumably to take himself to bed.

More time passed. The moons hung high. The Village of Crue lay tucked in and quiet.

In the darkness from the edge of the wood at the far end of town, a lone figure emerged caped in the color of bone with the shadow of a dark creature slung over one shoulder while a tall staff of white birchwood lead the way in the other. Violet eyes blinked out from behind the mask of an owl.

 

[Erën]

On through dinner, and out onto the porch, Erën talked with Quinn and Arn, and the mood very quickly became quite casual. Already eased by the likeness he shared with someone they knew, it was made all the more simple for the two countryfolk to hear only a little more of Erën to bid him quite welcome.

As Arn retired for the evening, Erën was left to his thoughts as he sat there on the porch, his sword-belt slung over the backrest of the chair he rocked on. And as his eyes peeked out from beneath the canopy, he beheld the moons above.

Embers burned within his own pipe as he mused the lights in the sky. Then as he settled back into his seat and looked out before him. The land looked silver and grey out in the near colourlessness the light of night showed to his eyes. But though some deeper beauties of the world may become lost in the night, an Aerai's eyes were all the more keen for it in even the dimmest light.

He saw at first only movement.

Then, as she drew nearer, he saw clearly the lines and features of the one who approached as they passed through the treeline, and so vibrant were their eyes did he see their brightness - just like any Aerai. But, he could not help but fixate on the luminosity in this ones eyes. It was different. Darker, yet still bright. Violet?

He was reminded of his trials in the Spine, and the twisting of hues that overtook the sword he once wielded...

He stood, as if on ceremony, and stepped forward to the edge of the porch.

 

[Hilte]

She walked through the dale calm and content, the horrible creature slung over her shoulder like a sleeping child. Her steps were quiet among the gentle swishing of her cloak and the songful sounds of the evening. This a path she took every night, walking beneath every phase of the moons one could imagine. All weathers. All seasons. Year after year. For over 100 years she had walked the sloped road through the Village of Crue, allowing her presence to permeate the lands, the homes, the people that lived here to protect them for another day.

On no night had she ever come across another of her kind. Not until tonight.

Hilte could sense the presence of another, for by now she had given so much of herself to Crue that she was the village and the village was she. The Aerai's step never slowed and her calm never rippled. She did not stop until she her path crossed in front of the home of Quinn and Arn where the stranger stood on the porch watching and waiting for her.

For several moments she gazed up at him from behind her mask, contemplating his arrival and what it would mean for her. For Crue.

"This explains the gwathui," she said finally, tone level though hollow as it sounded from behind the mask. "You likely have many questions," for it had been as long as she had traveled this road that she no longer heard the voices of her people and could not, tonight, hear his own, "you may follow."

Without another word, she turned, adjusted the dead gwathui on her shoulder, and carried on along her route as she would any other night on her way home to her cottage deep in the forest.

 

[Erën]

In the silence that lingered between them, each one seemed drawn into deep thought at the sight of one another. Erën surely was, for as though he could see as plainly before him someone who's mind he should also feel, and quite readily, he did not. So when she said plainly that he likely had many questions, he replied with a nod.

And so, grabbing up his belt and stepping down from the porch, he began following after her down the road to wherever it was she'd lead him.

After only a short while, he spoke, "the others, they said your name was Hilte? I am Erën.

I did not know of this place, or that any place in Aeraesar could be so..." he cast his eyes around, "...peaceful."

As he followed, his eyes tended to linger on the gwathui she'd draped over her shoulder. He found it curious that she would bring such a thing along with her. He was content to let them lay where he slew them.

 

[Hilte]

That name meant something. Maybe. Eren was not an uncommon name, but perhaps a shortened form of a longer one. She decided not to spend too much time on it, as the consequence of his name would make itself known when it needed to.

"It was under the protection of a Priest named Heiter before I arrived here," she replied to him as she continued along the path, now taking them out of the village and along a winding road that lead back into the forest.

"He helped me in my own time of need and in return I agreed to watch over his people after his death. I've been here ever since." Three generations now, that she was aware of. Quinn had not even been born when she arrived. Nor Arn. Nor many of those that would now be considered the adults of the village.

 

[Erën]

Heiter was not a name he was familiar with in any great capacity. No wonder, as he hadn't even been aware of this place until today. Still, some of what she said was of no small interest to him. Although if truth be known, he imagined he could guess at, at the very least, a fair portion of it. Still, sure as he was he had no doubt he would find himself surprised if he were to guess too much.

As they passed on through the village and out amongst the trees once again, it was clear there was a heightened awareness in Erën's demeanour. All too used to the troubles the forests wrought in these times. But still, too, he perceived that touch in the air, lingering like a mist just present enough to feel.

His eyes fell upon Hilte.

Protection.

"Make no mention of these lands, there are few places in all of this world so free of fear. You have upheld your mandate well.

The gwathui, why do you carry it?"

 

[Hilte]

If he could see her face at all, he might see a smile of contentment at his words. Less a sense of hubris for attaining something thought impossible, and more for the simplicity of upholding one's word.

As for the gwathui, she glanced toward the creature's limp body over her shoulder, "Waste not," she said in simple reply. The truth was a bit more complicated than that, but she found that by and large - most people did not need other people's complications in their lives.

Hilte continued walking, the silver light of the moon cutting off as they stepped into the thick of the trees. There would not be another clearing until she reached her cottage deep in the woods. A simple thing, meant for simple living. It stood as a place belonging to nature, rather than one built into it. Lush, green meadow flowers lined the footpath leading up to it while grass textured the roof. Though well-kept, it was clearly showing signs of age. Human made, for certain, and not something designed or constructed by an elf no less an Aerai.

"Please make yourself at home," said Hilte as she opened the front door and stepped inside. The first floor opened to a continuous room with no walls, its airy space interspersed by large oak poles that held the second floor and its roof aloft.

A kitchen would meet his gaze with a cooking hearth to the left. A table for various uses sat at the middle where a collective of herbs, fungi, and other plants sat in neat bushels. To the right another fireplace surrounded by a wall of bookshelves will with books, scrolls, and small trinkets. Another doorway straight ahead lead to the back of the home while a set of stairs just nearby it lead upstairs.

"This was Heiter's home," she said, "it became mine when I assumed his role in the village."

 

[Erën]

Stepping up to, and into the home, Erën resigned.

At first he had been unsure, uncertain. But now, as he draped his sword-belt over a chair at the table, his eyes glancing over the assorted goods - there came a certainty to his thoughts. Eyes drawn to the bookshelves, and the other items as well, it all only sunk in more.

Leisurely he stepped toward the bookshelves, making himself at home, but kindly as any Aerai would.

He pulled at no particular tome with his finger, "since the war."

It was... not exactly a question.

 

[Hilte]

Hilte moved through the door that lead to the back where she deposited the gwathui onto a stone slab made rather specifically for gutting and cleaning kills. It's original intent for creatures like deer, rabbit, or fowl - and while it still saw those things, it also on the rare occasion saw the remnants of evil in the world.

She cleaned her hands in a water bowl sitting nearby and then moved back inside.

Her guest had made his way to her library but she made no effort to watch him. Instead she moved back toward the front door where she first pulled the hood of her bone-colored cloak, then unpinned it and hung it on a stand nearby. The owl mask followed shortly thereafter and when she turned to look at Eren again it was with her own face and a hand running through the gentle curls of her shortly shorn hair.

"Yes," she replied, "many stories start with those words."

Were she who she was before, she would have likely already known the entire story to the how and why he was here. She had not thought on her severance in quite some time and she found that it was still rather painful to acknowledge, but then again for their kind it had only happened not so long ago.

100 years was nothing to them.

"You had quite the number after you," Hilte turned to the kitchen area where she began to collect the necessary tools she would need to clean the carcass on the slab, "I haven't caught that many in my traps in one night in a long time."

 

[Erën]

The tome he'd slid from its place... he flipped through it somewhat casually. Various remedies were what inhabited these pages, and some rather skillful illustrations. But all the while his ears perceived what his eyes did not rudely stare upon. She rid herself of the burden over her shoulder, and then went and removed those things which covered her likeness from him.

"Yes," she replied, "many stories start with those words."​

And ended.

He gently closed the tome and set it back into its place, and turned to look upon her. He hid any shock, or awe, but he did find it strange to see an Aerai with such shortened hair. But, for him, to look upon his own actions, he would say nothing of something such as this.

"There are quite a number more of them in these days," he said, doing his best the hide the dread that dwelt in him over it, "the fires of the old war rage once again."

There was something in him. He could not look to her when he'd spoke of it.

That old war.

His eyes fell aside with the words.

 

[Hilte]

A piece of news that did not come at a terrible surprise, but was bitterly unwelcome regardless of its chances of coming to pass.

"Unsettling," she admitted in a quiet tone, but appeared no more bothered or hurried in her present machinations. This land had known peace under her tenure and diligence for over one hundred years. That she might never have to face the horrors or turmoil of war driven by the dark creatures of her past had never crossed her mind. She knew that history would come to pass again. Such a force of presence could not possibly stay gone.

It had simply only been a matter of time.

"How fares the resistance?"

 

[Erën]

His eyes were drawn to her, her succinct speech, her unbothered presence. Even he, honed and singular and strong as he was... he could not dissuade himself from the dread, he could not be so unafflicted by the past. By the others.

"We have made ground," he said, taking a step forward, "and many have come to aid us. Orcs from Bhathairk, Dwarves from Belgrath... humans. Even Avariel, if you could believe."

There was an almost smile that crept across his features then, but it was soon again shrouded and he turned away to glance at this or that, "but I must admit... our adversary remains strong. There is something about it all... as though..."

His voice trailed off, as if he were afraid to explore the train of thought that crept into his mind, especially with one so... removed. Or perhaps... that was why such thought had come to him.

 

[Hilte]

Allies were good. They'd had few, historically speaking. Hilte could not exactly say why they had forsaken the help of others for so long. Perhaps they were simply too concerned with the commonality. Perhaps they were too prideful or vain. Or perhaps they'd simply forgotten how to ask for help after enduring prosperity and success for so long.

Either way, it was good to hear that at the very least her people had managed to set aside one of their many cultural flaws.

"There is something about it all... as though..."

"As though they know something."

A guess, but a well educated one, and one made from her own failures. There was much to be learned from ones own losses, and much to be learned from the losses of your enemy. Their enemy had never been fools, they had learned a great deal.

Tools in hand, Hilte turned and calmly moved out the back door once again to the cleaning slab and her fallen quarry. Much to learn indeed.

 

[Erën]

As though they know something.

His eyes slowly drifted downward.

Shrewd. But of course she was, she was an Aerai. And, though he could not say he recognized her presence - let only feel it within the collective, he felt there was something kindred in her, more-so beyond those he could share his thoughts so readily with.

He too had been apart, albeit for only a handful of years... but he knew these waters. He respected them.

He followed her out, and rather than lean over he cast his eyes outward, and enjoyed the serenity this place offered.

And so, now, he spoke readily, "it is as though they know us. Even then, in those old conflicts, when we would feign priority they would guess it. Only now with our allies do they struggle against us."

 

[Hilte]

There was predictability in the design of ants. One could watch a colony for weeks and know, without fault, just what they could predict of them. The ants lived for the whole, much like the Aerai always had. When faced with a challenge, the ants used pheromones to communicate with one another and, together, overcome said challenge. When faced with a threat, they swarmed en masse using the many to save the few.

Their paths could be predicted based on their surroundings.

Their lifecycle an ever continuous rehashing of the same thing.

The Aerai had long since turned from singularity because they could not detach from the unit. Only until after her severance did she come to learn this on her own. Never had she once lived, breathed, and decided for herself. Never once had she known conceit. There was pragmatism in existing for the commonality, but there was also stagnation.

And that was where their enemy had found the keystone to their foundation and toppled it.

Hilte spoke none of this aloud, but this stream of consciousness did flow readily through her mind in the absence of interference from others. Her hands moved in practice art, cleaning the entrails of her quarry in the way one might clean dishes. There was little use for the innards, so they were cast into a pale at the foot of the slab. The carapace had function once broken and ground into powder - it made an excellent source of nutrients for her mushroom garden. Never had the fungi flourished so readily or so quickly.

But it was in what would have equated to the gallbladder that she found her prize: what appeared to be a black pearl the size of a walnut. Hilte stepped away from the table after cleaning her hands in a pale of water and rinsed the pearl off as well then held it up in a shaft of moonlight. It gleamed, radiating a foul presence that an aerai would only ever known as the darklings of their adversary's numbers.

Hilte made a thoughtful sound as she turned the horrible thing this way and that between her fingers, "This will do nicely."

 

[Erën]

It was odd.

Even in his time apart, it was... not. He could hear the whispers in his dreams, the soothing melodies, the washing of distant waters upon barren shores. Even in his time apart, it was not. So readily had his mind ever reached. So desperate had that urge to rekindle, grown. Even he - so aloof and alone.

Such was never true amongst them. Quieter, more distant, perhaps, but never alone.

And yet here in this place, where in the presence of any other like him he'd have felt her, like seeing the rings of ripples around ankles in shallow water - yet hers were not there. In this place, he stood alone in these waters, and she was either elevated, or beneath them. Which, he could not say, nor did he know which was better. He recognized it, and grasped at it, but knew it not.

Still, standing there in the quiet while she carried out her work, he felt the serenity of not only the surround, but of the moment. Rare was it for two Aerai to be so close, and yet hear nothing of one another's thoughts. It... intrigued him. He wondered what she may be thinking.

And so when she finally voiced her thoughts again, it was utterly unrelated to any conflict or combat.

This will do nicely.

Hm?

And cocked brow and a canted head, he turned to her and surveyed the thing in her hand. He, for his part, did not know what it was. Others of their ilk, they were more privy to such workings of their enemy, but it would take him some time to find such thoughts and memory in the vastness. Far faster could he, were his hand upon the Shorai itself. But, such was not the case.

"And what might that be?"

Curious as he was, he drew a bit closer and examined the item from afar.

 

[Hilte]

"If they have a given name I do not recall it," she admitted freely, "I refer to them as Gwathui Pearls. They form as a galstone within older Gwathui, so they are not terribly common since most of them die young. I have found only those that have risen to leading their packs carry them."

The pearl gleamed as she lowered her hand and offered it to Eren. Should he open his palm to take it, he would find it to be quite a bit more dense and heavy than it appeared. It was smooth, like finished metal, and carried with it a sickeningly dark presence. This particular pearl was quite putrid.

"I have been collecting them over the years," Hilte said, "this is one of the largest I have found."

"I suspect they could be used to mask one's presence and allow them to pass through gwathui, perhaps even others of their ilk, unnoticed. They may even allow one to affect influence over younger gwathui, though I have not tested these theories."

 

[Erën]

Gwathui Pearls.

He himself did not know the like, and for all he knew, most Aerai had the same regard for their fallen foes as he had. To leave them where they lay, and let them rot and return, untouched after death. It was not in any regard of respect, or ever reverence for the dead as whole. It was a pure and simple overlooking.

Beneath.

In their spite, the Aerai saw no use in their fallen foes, abhorrent as they were to them. It was this steadfast repulsion, that in these moments, filled with supposition as they were, Erën questioned their stance. If such as what Hilte suspected to be true... then they had overlooked a great deal, no doubt.

He opened his palm and took it. And once he had, a strange feeling overcame him. A weight, a great heaviness, not only within his hand but upon shoulders. He feigned solidarity, refraining from any outward expression of this grief, but he toiled with it, for what seemed like a great while - but it was only but a moment, barely a breath. He perceived something that gnawed at him, or at least, strove to. Resolute as he was, it became silent as quickly as it grew loud.

His eyes rested upon it for a moment, and he pondered it as she spoke to him.

"Some of our greatest sorcerers have attempted to supplant the minds of the gwathui. Some have even managed to, for a time... but once their captain's arrive, such influence goes unheard.

If such a thing were possible... this could change a great many things.

How many have you collected?"