Private Tales Children of the Veiled Sanctum

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Lómin

Lómin

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It had been quiet in Sharyrdaes as of late - or as quiet as it could be. Often were the creatures of the night just there within earshot, howling and screeching in the distance just often enough to remind one that they were there. Just enough to remind you that it wasn't safe. Sharyrdaes' fourth level was where the line was drawn and their defenses at their fullest, and for the most part in the levels above there, the Aerai lived in relative peace.

High above, on the sixth level, standing idly just outside the temple's grand entrance, Lómin looked out into the dark around them. There was torchlight throughout the city and all around him, hung from pillars and from the sides of buildings, by entryways and through the streets, but it was only so unveiling. There was no moonlight to reveal the great meadow out before the city. There was no starlight to guide them if they were lost.

He drew in a breath, and then as he expected there came a sound both in his ear and in his mind: the rising of the perpetual chorus - the cathedral's grand choir joined in their wordless song, raising the praises of the gods through their voices and through their minds as they once and always had. Their song grew as they sang of the council's adjournment, and the settling of nothing on this day. There was no consensus, but in this there would be peace and their accord would remain as one. And so of this, as it came and went, they sang, until it passed and they sang again of those things coming and going, which were and are, have been and will be.

Soon, the temple's doors were made open and there were many who began to make their way out. Lómin sought one individual in particular. And though he could not yet see her, he could feel her presence. Through the Shoraes he reached out with his mind and whispered to her, Enderathil... Enderathil!

 
Their meeting had been long, and did not bear much fruit. To some, it was frustrating. Others were still full of hope and faith, but there were those that still struggled with such things. Enderathil was one of those.

She had been full of doubt, though she tried her best to keep it from the collective. It's not that she wanted to feel this way, but the solitude she had put herself into had warped her in ways she still hadn't figured out.

The large doors had kept the darkness at bay, but being thrust into the night made her shiver despite there being no chill. Her head snapped in the direction of the call, though she had not heard it physically. Her eyes scanned the darkness and then landed upon the one who sought her.
"Lómin?"

What could he want with her? She made her way to him, the crowd parting easily already knowing her intent. Before long she was before him, a soft smile on her lips. "I am here." The same phrase echoing in his ears quietly.

Lómin
 
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It was easy for an Aerai to make it through a crowd of their own. It was nothing for one another to know where one was moving when their minds were connected, and so Enderathil was quick to find him. But he had not lingered in one place, and once they'd finally gravitated toward one another, they found themselves not far from the temple's entrance by a grand balustrade. And from there they could look and see the vastness of the city's fifth level below them, and further beyond as it descended, all of Sharyrdaes. They could turn their heads up, and see not only the grandiosity of their temple which was encompassing in its footprint, but also high above there was yet another level of the city.

Lómin leaned against the edge there, and looked down into the city below, "it seems more and more difficult to come to any agreement as of late, wouldn't you agree?" There was a breeze that came and went then, carrying with it an uncertain air, and he said, "I didn't think it was possible, but the days seem to be growing darker..." he hung his head for only a moment, and then looked to her with an endearing smile, "care to walk with me?"

 
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It was many moments before they finally enclosed the space between them. She followed Lómin's gaze below, but did not lean such as he did. Instead, she found herself slightly nervous, a feeling that she hadn't felt about her kin since the world fell silent.

Enderathil nodded at his comment, the swell of voices dimming slightly as she focused entirely on him. "It is much harder after our world as we knew it collapsed. There are many feelings we all have to work through." It was a diplomatic answer, even still she did not share the closeness she had with the others.

"I will not lie, I am afraid we will fall again. I don't know that we would ever be able to recover if we did." She had not spoken of that to anyone else, and yet she had blurted to Lómin like an idiot.

She was still confused as to why he had called to her but she nodded her head as he smiled at her. "I will gladly accompany you."

Lómin
 
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Lómin smiled with her admissions, and nodded his own similar sentiment, sharing it with her mentally. He did, however, seem to have some sense of encouragement. Even he himself was somewhat unsure of it, but something yet seemed to center him. But he shared of this only a little and one might even suspect only by accident, and so it went unspoken of.

"And yet, here we are, rekindling the light all the same. We have trifled with the dark for many years, why not trifle with it longer?"

He clasped his hands behind his back as they walked, and as the two fell into step together they soon found themselves departing far from the temple's radiant light. The dimness of the dark grasped the air around them, and only the light of the torches and sparsely placed pillars of their great, luminous crystal showed the way through the city's streets. Soon, they came to a great gate which was swung wide open, and a great gatehouse encompassed it and tall, white walls spanned wide and high. Beyond, the road dipped down, and they began their way down into the city's fifth and most populated level.

"I hear some of the youth are preparing a show. Do you remember the old library on the fifth level's east block? Since the conclave moved all literature into the temple its been made into something of a theatre."

Despite them dwelling in only half of the city, there were many unoccupied homes and structures even in their secured portions. There were simply so many who had been lost.

 
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It was easy to walk together, just like their minds, their bodies often followed a parallel. There was no need to discuss where they were going, their feet knew where to take them. She was still surprised at Lómin asking for her in particular, but she did enjoy his company.


"I just worry, we've lost so many. It's almost like I can still hear their echos in the walls sometimes.." She shook her head, clearing the thoughts. If she dwelled too much, she despaired too much. She did not want to put that upon him.

Enderathil had always loved their home, to her it was the most beautiful place she could imagine. It was built by tough hands, and it was absolutely masterful work. No matter how many times she passed this way, she still let her fingertips brush the smooth pearlescent walls.

She perked up at his mention of the little theater and a real smile touched her lips. "I have heard, I think it's lovely and a good use of the space. Too many building are empty, it's nice to see it come to life once more. It keeps the young ones happy, and hopeful."

They meandered on and she studied her companion. Was that where he was bringing her? To the theater turned library?

Lómin
 
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Some of the streets were wider than others, but many of the buildings were tall, most being at least two stories. This made the more narrow streets seem all the more encroaching, but with windows alight with candles and torches perched by doorways, there was almost a cozier, safer feeling in these places. It seemed shrouding from the dark of the world around them, and it seemed a little easier to forget some of the more horrible realities that surrounded them. Coming to the once library brought them down one such narrow street, where they were met by only a few passersby. But, as they drew near to the theatre, a most delightful sound filled the air. It was the sound of children laughing.

There were other, older youths as well, and among them were only a handful of individuals who were even old enough to be joined with the collective. The rest were all... so young.

Following after the excited tromping of a few of the younglings, Lómin and Enderathil entered into the theatre. Within, they were greeted by Nolmo. She was one of the chief curators of the Aerai youth, serving as guardian, custodian, and mentor to them.

"Welcome Enderathil, welcome Lómin," she greeted them in the traditional Aerai way, and then said, "the children have been working hard on this presentation, and they are quite hopeful to remain as accurate to the history as possible..." she half smiled, watching as a couple of the younger ones ran past and in between them, hardly aware of any disruption they may have caused in doing so.

 
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The narrow streets drew the two closer together, but it was a comfort distance. They were used to the closeness of their kin, affection to one another more often than not. It was easy when you shared in the collective.

They were quiet as they walked, but she took comfort in his presence anyways. She sought comfort more than anything these days. Sometimes a sister from the temple even stayed the night in her room. She would provide blessings and prayers to help abate the nightmares that tore her screaming and sweating from sleep.

Enderathil could hear the laughter of the children long before they could see them. She instantly perked up, a smile lighting up her face. Lómin guided her through and she spoke her greeting to Nolmo, tousling the hair of one of the boys that ran between them. "I'm sure they have done an excellent job, as I'm sure you have Nolmo."

Lómin would be able to tell from body language alone the affect being around the children caused, even more so the motherly affections, despite not being a mother yet herself.

Lómin
 
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Lómin's reaction was not too dissimilar from Enderathil's. It had been a long time since there had been children in any great number, and to see them all laughing and playing as a group of many was an encouraging thing. He, mimicking Enderathil's confidence in them, iterated his own confidence in the performance. But he, and Enderathil likely too, held a far greater confidence in Nolmo's careful and guiding hand. It was long ago now, but she had been Istoneth to his generation as well, and in the time before and after his joining she was something he remembered as a constant - one of the very few.

"What is the tale they wish to tell?"

"The children have chosen the battle of Nórë Sérë," Nolmo replied in her characteristically stoic, almost apathetic manner, "they have a particular fascination with the Eventide."

He supposed it was hard not to be curious about what one lived in the aftermath of. However, the fall of the city, Nórë Sérë, was one of the war's bloodiest conflicts, and the beginning of the end from the perspective of many. The Aerai lines crumbled with the fall of Nórë Sérë, and from there they were steadily pushed back into their final bastion in Sharyrdaes. There were, however, many noble deeds done in those days. Perhaps that was to be the primary focus.

"Well," Lomin said after a moment of contemplation, "shall we find ourselves a seat?"

...remember, best seats for the parents...​

 
Enderathil was a little stunned by the choice of material, but did not let it show. She trusted Nolmo to have had a proper guiding hand on appropriate material. It was a lot, it was not a particularly clean battle, still Nolmo knew what she was doing.

Enderathil looked to Lómin as he spoke, nodding her head. "Yes, let's find somewhere close, but not seats that belong to the parents." She gave Nolmo a small grin, squeezing her hand.

Enderathil let Lómin lead the way, she was still pondering what all this was about. Was he attempting to court her? She could feel the hint of a blush and stomped out the thought.

They found a spot, sadly easy enough. Taking her place dutifully. "It would be nice to someday have my own children, when we can feel safe again."

Lómin
 
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"I think that sentiment has certainly grown amongst our generation in recent years," he replied with a smile and a glance to some of the frolicking children near to them.

He was nonchalant about it, and reserved within his mind, but he could not help but afford the risk of a precarious extra moment to rest his eyes upon her. Her hair reminded him of silver silk shimmering in the moons' light, her features seemed sharp though softened with allure, and her movements invoked thoughts of elegance and grace. But his eyes could linger on her for only so long, for it was hardly for himself that he had sought her and come here with her.

There was a clap, followed by another, and then a third, all powerful and succinct. Nolmo had brought herself to the forefront onto what was now the theatre's stage, and from there she captured the attention of those in audience. She looked out to those present with a kind and quiet gaze, and then she gave a slight bow and a telepathic, greetings. With the gesture of one of her hands, the ambient light within seemed to dim. Another gesture, and she stepped to turn her back to those present, and another light coalesced over the stage. It cast more clarity there, and then with a subtle bow Nolmo departed from there and made room for the first act...


The play had been going on for some time when Lómin leaned a little closer to Enderathil.

"You have no idea why I've asked you to come here with me, have you?"

 
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Enderathil sat quietly, a wistful smile on her lips as Nolmo took to the stage. Her attention had been rapt upon the proceedings, unaware of how Lómin was studying her in the dim lighting. To her, this was an unusual excursion, but not all that unwelcome. She needed to get out more amongst others, start to regain the trust that she no longer held onto.

It wasn't long after Nolmo left the stage, that the children began their first act. She could tell they had worked hard, and it pleased her to see them so proud of their work. After some time had passed, she turned to Lómin, hearing his hushed voice and feeling the brush of his body against her as he leaned closer.

"I have been wracking my brain for an answer to that, but you're right. I don't." Her voice was hushed, a curious and questioning lilt to her tone as she turned to him.

Lómin
 
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"I need your help," he replied, rather pragmatically, "we, need your help."

He cast a casual glance about the theatre, and then canted his head back toward her, "ever since the Sholírë's return, something is... amiss."

When the Shoraes' song first returned and the collective was once again established in their minds, no one expected a sense of normalcy for some time. They had, all of them, experienced a trauma that none of them could fully explain or deal with. It would take time - however, as Lómin soon began to explain, there were certain things that simply... did not make sense. There was a haziness to the collective memory, the amnesia of whatever happened to them, but there also seemed to be other problems.

Lómin inclined his head to the stage ahead, and spoke to her through thought, for instance... the children. There are over a dozen who have been missing, but most do not even remember them. Sometimes, not even their parents.

It seemed there were quite a number of people who had gone missing, and only a few people could truly remember who they even were, that they even existed. It was an intense discrepancy.

 
Enderathil inclined her head towards Lómin as he spoke, her eyes still facing forward as she avoided his gaze for the moment. Her eyes were fixed to stage, but her mind began to race as she took in the words he was saying. Many questions began to assert themselves in her mind, but she curbed them, wanting to process what he was saying.

It was true things hadn't been right, she was always uneasy, she had no trust for anyone..including him. Her return to their song had been jarring for her, and not as big of a relief for her as others. Still, why had he singled her out. Where there others he had spoken to?

Enderathil answered him through their linked minds, hesitation evident as she responded. "I agree that things haven't been normal, not even close. I'm not sure how I could help you, I don't know any more than you do. Certainly, I want answers, but as to how to get them, I am uncertain." She finally looked at him again, hoping he would give her more, let her know what his intentions truly were.

Lómin
 
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Whatever happened to these individuals, of the vast number of us who remain there are a very few people who seem to be.. for lack of better description, in the middle of this process. Some remember their faces, but can find no name, for others it is the opposite. And these people feel... wayward, astray from the collective as a whole, like it is not what it once was.

Enderathil, you are one of these individuals, are you not?

Lómin spoke to her through their minds but his voice was a clear as a harshly running river. And though there was resolution in his eyes, there was also a clear line of concern - even worry - in them.

Enderathil, if that is true, I believe you are in danger. We have only ever identified a handful of these individuals, and by that time, they disappeared.

 
Enderathil paled, as she met his somber gaze. She thought she had been careful, hadn't let on that she was different than everyone else. Perhaps she had been too careful. She glanced away, biting her lip as she pulled apart every word he had spoken. He was worried she'd vanish too? Was there more he wasn't saying? She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, almost afraid to answer him.

After several moments, she murmured back to him, defeated. She had just wanted to feel normal, and this had felt like that for a moment. That moment was now gone, and now all she felt was shame and trepidation. "I have not felt the same, no. I feel separated from everyone else in a way. I don't feel close to anyone anymore." She could feel the start of tears but attempted to hold them back. She didn't want to break down here of all places.

Lómin
 
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He nodded, and afforded a quiet moment for her words to settle in.

Lómin perceived and recalled Enderathil through the Shoraes quite well, which was part of the reason he had been sent to find her. There were many others who did as well, but there were a number - even high councilors - who did not. And her own admissions proved even further what he had come to understand. But, in spite of the dour news of those others like her, they could at least find comfort in her having been quite safely preserved from whatever it was that was taking place. Lómin had no idea what it was, if these people were simply leaving on their own accord, or if something more nefarious was taking place.

In the case of the latter, this is why he had chosen to bring her here. Nolmo was not only a wise teacher, but she was also quite possibly one of the most powerful among their kind at present, which in these darkened days was no small consideration. If there was an evil with any sense that sought Enderathil and those like her, it would be quite hesitant to intrude so closely on the Istoneth, Nolmo.

He placed his hand upon hers, saying, "you are not alone, Enderathil. We are the many who are one, and no daughter of the Shorai's light will be left behind."

 
Lómin gave her a moment, one of which she very much appreciated. She fought the lump in her throat, composing herself, meticulously folding her hands in her lap. Every move was deliberate in calming herself from the discovery he had made of her. Surely others with the same information might want to treat her in a much different, and terrifying way. She wasn't even sure if she could trust her companion currently either, though she desperately wanted to.

Lómin reached out, placing his hand upon hers, and she flinched away forgetting who it was for a moment that had touched her. She looked to him with despair, having never felt fear at the touch of one of her own. Touch was a big part of their culture; it was far from uncommon and welcomed always. She pressed a shaking hand to her face, to afraid to look at him. Surely he would think poorly of her now, maybe even fear her.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. Do you really think I can be helped? How did you find out about all of this?"

Lómin
 
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Calmly he pulled his hand away, careful in his movements. It was clear she was far more perturbed than he could realize, and rightfully so, in his mind. What she was experiencing was something alien to him, to all of them. And though this was a cause for concern, this worry did not undermine that which was paramount amongst their kind: unity. Enderathil, despite whatever lies the dark that seemed to seek after her may say, would never be abandoned or looked upon with disdain. Not ever in intent.

How she perceives however... that was something he was learning could be the issue.

"It is alright," he said, reassurance in his tone, "we have all been through a great deal as of late... and we will all deal with it differently."

He breathed a deep breath, "I do not know what all can be done, but I know someone who perhaps might... it is why I brought you here. She can explain more when this is done..."

Before them, the final act of the play drew near its conclusion. Throughout, they had seemed to dwell primarily on the feats preformed by stalwart champions, many of whom did die in the battle, though they did so with valiance. In the final moments of the tale's retelling, the children expressed their gratitude for those who had fought so that they may persist, and a small ceremony of remembrance took place with the lighting of candles and the reciting of prayers.

 
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