Private Tales In the Wake of the Raging Flame

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
His smile broadened as he felt her drawing near, felt her warmth against him. Instinctively he too moved closer, and perceiving the shade she offered as she shrouded them both from the light, moved his arm up onto his forehead, allowing his eyes to open. At first, he only hummed in response to her, studying her visage in a very obvious and playful silence. Then after some time, he propped himself up some to draw closer to her, leaning forward to nuzzle his cheek against hers for but a moment.

He leaned back with no haste, his eyes finding hers, and then with a tune on his tongue, "melmë," he echoed. "It is... older elvish. It means: love - everlasting."

It wasn't until then that an oddity occurred to him, "your dream? You heard that word?" In and of itself it was not entirely odd, she may have perhaps heard the word uttered in her youth. It was very strange, however, that he, in his own dream, had spoken it.

Or... had that been him?

"You must tell me your dream," he said, curious.

 
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Caliane followed him as he leaned back drawn by that look in his eyes that made the fire in her veins run hot.

"Melmë," she repeated quietly with her lips hovering a hairs width away from his, but his words made her hesitate. With a frown she drew back and searched his eyes as though trying to read the reasons for his curiosity. The frown deepened as she tried to remember that dream as she settled against his chest. "It was an odd dream..." she begun trying to hold on to it.

"I was... I was in the Sharyrdian Valley... and it was full of people. Laughing - living. Scholars, children, warriors," her eyes became a little unfocused as she spoke. "There was a man - the woman's mate - and he was the one who spoke it. On an aerie overlooking the valley with the stars above..." She shook her head.

"I think the talk of the future made me Dream of such."
 
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And Erën listened in wonder as she spoke, wrapping his arm around her as she settled against him. And as she described what she had seen, he hummed with a contented amazement.

"What you describe is not of the future..." he said quietly, "... I too saw these things in my sleep."

He tried to speak her name, but it fled from his thought, despite any desperation he sought it with. And the other too, the name he'd carried in his dream, was gone. But many of the images remained, and as Caliane told of what she saw the picture returned ever clearer.

"You tell of a time long since past, my fire. Long has it been since Sharyrdaes' tower stood," and if what they saw were one and the same thing, "long has it been since my people have prospered so."

And then he too confessed of the things he had seen, or at least as much as he could remember of the vague haze a dream often turned to only moments after waking. But beyond everything else, he remembered her. And he described her, her hair and voice, and her wings.

But most notably, her laugh. He'd heard it before.

"Though I remember not her name, I could easily have said that she was you."

 
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As Erën retold his own Dreaming it filled in those gaps that had already begun to fade from her own creating one seamless story of two souls who had lived once long ago. Caliane wasn't sure whether she should feel sick or giddy or perhaps even both. She tugged out of his arms to sit up on her knees and in her lap her hands began to wring. The last time she had had such visions had been when she had nearly died on that fateful field over a year ago. That had been a warning, so this was...

"What does it mean?" she whispered, dread and worry filling her eyes. The Gods which seemed to sit on both their shoulders had clearly arranged for them to share this Dreaming to show them something important, but what? Had they woken too soon? Or was this a shred of hope for what they could return to? "Are we...? Was that a Dream... or a memory?"
 
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Wise as he could be, learned as he was, some things he could not answer. He knew not what such things could mean, just as in times past he could not fully understand. But, there was something he seemed to understand with certainty - even if he did not truly realize.

"Both..." he blurted out, then hesitated, "...I believe." He took a breath as he thought for a moment, and then continued, "a reminder of things that have been, and could be again."

Even as he spoke the words, even as he dwelt on them and made them his own, he felt as though they came from somewhere else. It was an odd sensation, but one he felt comfortable with, and as he listened to his own voice speak he too began to see it as such - a hope. But it also begged his mind to ask, if it were a memory, then whose was it truly?


Several days passed, and though he'd have wished to dwell solely on those things they had seen and said to one another, to dwell on the dream on piece together more understanding. Instead, the days were spent reluctantly resting at first, and then more and more aiding their kind hosts. William and Wendy were insistent that they needed nothing from their guests, but Caliane of course would hear none of it. Erën, too, was happy to help where and however he could, but he was more easily preoccupied in his own interests than Caliane ever was. Though, at least, he could say that his interests were all of noble intent, he would also say hers were of a far purer benevolence.

In the evenings they did speak on their dreams, painting an even clearer picture each time. But also too, and Erën could see, Caliane had not forgotten those that had been left behind, who had allowed them to be where they were now...

And soon, a renewed strength would rise in them with the morning, and their time to depart would come nigh.
​
 
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Caliane would cherish those days of peaceful life in the months to come. It was almost cruel in a way that they got to live out the life they had whispered about in the bathtub on that first night. Working an honest job, meeting residents of the town who became friends as the days drew on, returning at night to their bed to love one another without the shadow of what was to come. This life was a Siren's Song - one Caliane had a hard time resisting. Yet she could not stop her mind wandering to the others who they had left behind to fight for their own freedoms; had any of them got out? How many had died? The thoughts had turned her peaceful dream into an anxious nightmare.

"You could stay," Wendy blurted out again, not for the first time since the pair had announced their nearing departure. Especially when they had confessed what they planned to do.

"We couldn't intrude any longer," Caliane said with a soft smile and twined her fingers with her mates. "Besides, we have our own homes to return to. When... we get the chance, we would like to visit again," Wendy bobbed her head, tears glistening in her eyes. She stepped forward and embraced them both followed by William.

"You both take care now, alright?" the man put an arm around his wife's shoulders and squeezed.
 
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In their time spent there, Erën too had grown quite fond. The people, though first apprehensive, proved to be quite kind and only curious. One particular evening in their hosts' tavern stood out with Erën - watching from nearby as Caliane filled the local's with wonder, showcasing some of her returning powers. Flames from her fingertips, fire dripping from her wings, and burning not, for her fires burned only that which was malicious and cruel, only that which she turned her ire against. In the house of her friends, it shone brightly and wonderfully without worry.

"You could stay..."
​
A soft smile found his eyes.

Then, as they became ready to depart, William said his farewells. Erën turned his head to him, and his eyes met with William's, who stood there with his wife held close. And Erën looked at him with his chin tilted up, the stoicism on his face returned, but there was a quiet strength in the final moment that he shared with the peaceful man.

Erën was one who had held his honour in the sword, but William held this same honour... he only held it in something else. He nodded a wordless good-bye, and then turned and left with Caliane's hand in his.


Leaving from there proved more bitter than sweet. It was not as though they encountered trouble once they'd found their way into the wild once again, but even Erën had to admit he had grown... accustomed to the ease and simplicity of where they had dwelt. And though he needed only turn his gaze upon Caliane to be renewed, he felt a distant guilt when he looked upon her. But, he felt that perhaps someday, it could be that way.

Though Caliane could only ever be the quicker of the two, Erën's pace was admirable. They covered a great deal of ground in a short while...

 
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Caliane landed, her cheeks flushed with the lashings of the cold wind that blew across the Steppes and the exhilaration of flying. If ground-walkers wondered if the creatures of the sky ever get bored with having to fly the same way they often did walking, one only ever had to look at Caliane's face after a flight to discover the answer was a resounding no. Flying would always be the ultimate feeling of freedom and joy. Her wings shook to rid themselves of the dew that had built up on her flight and then she settled them against her back.

"The camp is just past this crop of trees," she announced and tugged her hair round to check her braid was still in tact. They planned to fight and she had no need of her hair getting in the way of her vision when they attacked. "There's more guards from what I could see, no sign of the other slaves," her lips tightened and shadows darkened the joy that had danced in her eyes only seconds ago. "What if they've taken them off to sell already?"
 
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Erën slowed to a halt where Caliane's feet found solid ground again. Though they had traveled far and fast, he showed no sign of fatigue, and approached Caliane with a casual breath and stride. Her assessment was worrisome, but he thought it perhaps likely that they were rather more forcibly confined than forced into servitude after their attempt.

He rested his hand gently on her shoulder, saying, "we will do what we must."

They'd pledged to return and free those people, and if that took them to this camp of slavers and then onto another, then so be it. This, after all, was Erën's purpose - to defend the innocent from evil.

"Shall we wait until nightfall, or do we move on them now," he asked, quite content with either path.

 
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"I don't know," Caliane chewed on her bottom lip as she often did when anxious. Her gaze was turned towards the crest of the hill over which the camp sat. Not much separated them and if they were caught out here... she didn't want to think about going back. The Soulfire had been replenished and the logical part of her said she could raze the camp to the ground with a mere thought, but that part of her still traumatised by the life of a slave... well. Fear overrode everything else.

She flexed her wings to remind herself; I am free.

"I might have been a great war leader in the past but," her lips lifted in a wobbly smile and then she once more worried at her lip. "Will it make any difference? If we're planning to... to kill them," her face paled somewhat, for even if she knew their plan was necessary - that the Centaurs would hurt more people if left alive - the soft heart Avariel balked at any loss of life. "Then does the time of day matter?"
 
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Erën hummed a thoughtful hum in response to her musings, his eyes drifting off into their surround. So instilled in him were the ways of an Aerai Sword that he had not given it another thought as to whether or not these creatures were to be slain. These strange beast-men had brought upon they two and countless others an outright evil. But still, the hesitancy that his love betrayed also stayed him. These horse-men were not like the beasts of Arkhivom's designs - they weren't like the monstrosities of Pandemonium. They were creatures of this land that were made to believe in their ways - creatures with... sentience, he believed it was described. And, he supposed, that mattered.

He turned his eyes to her, tilting his chin downward, saying, "then perhaps we shall wait for the cover of dark, and sneak in to see if there are even any left to save."

There was still the matter of a few previous items that Erën would have returned to him regardless of any other demands this venture held, most importantly the sword which would be best hung from his hip. And too, Erën's use of the Nightshade was more pronounced without the sun's light. If they truly sought to forego the spilling of any further blood, those magics of his could certainly aid in their guile.

But, he did not intend for them to make any great escape without the centaurs being aware of it.

"Perhaps, if shown mercy, they will also learn to wield it."

 
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"I don't think it is within them to learn such a thing," Caliane said sorrowfully. She had nodded along to her mates idea but her eyes had once again moved back to that horizon as though she could see the village even from here in the safety of the trees. She wanted to believe Eren's tentative hope. She wanted for these people to be brought to the light and shown the way of good, honest people, but Caliane had seen their like before. The darkness that was rooted inside of them was one which could only be cleansed with the great equaliser; death.

It didn't make her any less mournful for it.

"I'm going to go for another scout," her wings flared and she turned her emerald gaze back to her lovers. Troubled though she was she still offered him a smile. "Why don't you prepare some of the food Will and Wendy gave us?"
 
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"I don't think it is within them to learn such a thing..."
​
No, perhaps not, he thought.

He smiled at her as she flared her wings out, and to him is was a triumphant stretch of that freedom she was blessed with. He stepped toward her and caressed her cheek with his hand, saying, "fly now. I will have something warm ready for you when you return."

After she departed, Erën set about unpacking some of the things their hosts had gathered for them. They'd not packed much, but it was more than enough for the pair of them. And, for ones so experienced in the ways of travel, even a small bounty of food could soon become a delicious, albeit humble feast.

 
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Caliane took her time. Being so near to the camp reminded her of cages and flying helped remind that still scared corner of her mind that she was no longer clamped in irons. She basked a while longer under the suns dying rays letting them warm her feathers with a contented sigh. Of course, with the Soulfire she could have done such a thing with magic but there was some sort of odd comfort that came with the caress of the sun. In the end she did a final sweep of the warbands village making a note of those returning from the field for the night or hunters coming home with their kill. Such an ordinary life it appeared from up here. How many villages like this had she flown by thinking them safe and quaint when really they had harboured an unthinkable evil?

The question troubled her. Especially when the Soulfire whispered, what could you do if you did know? You do not have time to save them all.

Eventually she returned to where she had left Eren landing on silent feet and drawing her wings in to her back. In one hand she held aloft a rabbit that had been shot by an arrow.

"My meagre offering," she laughed and sat down besides him, one wing brushing against his back in a familiar gesture. "It smells divine."
 
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Erën had wasted little time in preparing a small fire. Given the direction of the wind he wasn't particularly worried about being spotted, the smoke would be wisped away into nothing before any eyes beyond that ridge would see. So he set about making a stew of root vegetables and herbs, so when Caliane returned to declare her bounty "meagre," he simply smiled. Given the placement of her shot, one would easily see that had there been a more proper find, then she'd have certainly felled it. And, given the items they had at their disposal, a rabbit was more than enough.

"We shall see," he replied, taking the rabbit from her and placing a slow kiss upon her cheek.

It wasn't long, and with a hunting knife William had gifted him to use until he'd reclaimed his own, Erën cleaned Caliane's quarry, and it found its rightful place in the stew. Shortly after then, their meal was ready.

He handed her a bowl with a smile, and as he sat down beside her he asked, "did you see anything?"

 
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Sitting beside him with her knee brushing against his, the fire crackling before them and the scents of food... Caliane felt as content as she had in the little life they had created back at the inn. It hardened the resolve she had that it was indeed not the place that mattered, but that she was with him. As he worked on the rabbit she carefully switched out the fire from a natural one to the Soulfires creation. Suddenly the smoke that had risen died for these flames did not need to burn wood to thrive.

"They're all returning to their village for the night. I saw a few hunting parties, the workers from the fields... It seems that even they are not completely fearless of the dark," though what could be worse in these lands to scare those brutes Caliane shuddered to think about. "I didn't see any sign of the group that caught us though..." a small frown drew her brows together.
 
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Erën was no master chef in the midst of a grand kitchen, but out in these woods he could prepare a fine meal. He himself did not eat much, but quite often he found himself in the company of others through his many travels. He'd picked up a thing or two along the way.

"We should be cautious then," he replied, poking at his stew with an air of disinterest, though only for dwelling on what she said. He wondered where their would-be captors might have gone. And so he sharpened his ears and his mind too, covering the surround in his awareness. And then he ate.

"Do you think maybe they took after us and befell some foul fate? I'm sure they'd have returned by now having not found us."

 
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"I hadn't thought about that," Caliane admitted and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin atop. She stared into the fire as though she could seek the answers there. "I was worrying that they had found some poor other souls out on the road..."

It had been the real reason why she had taken so long. With her wings and the heat of the soulfire she could cover leagues in almost half the time of someone on foot. She'd scoured as much of the surrounding area that she could to see if she could spot any sign of them whether it be tracks or the remains of a camp. The only evidence of anyone travelling the area had all been near the village they had just left.

"They wouldn't attack the village for harbouring us would they? The garrison said they were prepared for their raids but..."
 
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He set his stew down beside him, and his eyes turned up through the trees. The centaurs would be foolish to attack the village, surely.

Surely.

He turned his eyes to the ridge just there, where beyond the centaurs dwelt, then his gaze fell back upon the fire, and he said, "its a long way back... these creatures are unlikely to tell us of such things, and even if we attacked them now we'd not have enough time to return."

His eyes wandered back to the ridgeline, "but if I could only read one's thoughts..."

 
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She had been hoping that Erën would tell her she was being overly paranoid, that the centaurs would not go to so much effort to retrieve two run away slaves. But when he didn't, when he even looked concerned about the idea Caliane began to panic. Immediately she began to chart the flight path she would take with the strongest currents. If she could use the fires power too, maybe... Her wings began to glow faintly, waiting.

"Read their thoughts?" the younger avariel blinked. "I thought you were only able to communicate with your own kind mind to mind?" If he could then surely someone in that camp would know where the slave traders had gone. But who?
 
Erën could sense the anxiety rising in Caliane even before it showed through in her wings. He reached to her to offer some comfort, but just then the sound of hooves beating down not too far from them caused him to react. He was on his feet in a flash, but his urgency quickly diminished - as Caliane's likely would too - as he heard clear from where and to they would pass. They would be safe, and given the pace, they'd not be spotted easily. And so Erën peered through the trees so that he might see, and he did catch a glance at a familiar set of hunters. He'd have scowled were it no for the wounds they had so blatantly endured. He edged over toward the ridge, and watched them descend toward their encampment.

He frowned, and looked to Caliane, saying, "wherever they were... it appears they were unsuccessful."

He looked back at the encampment again with suspicion, and then slid down away from the ridge.

He lifted his eyes to her, letting any sense of the moment around them pass away,"do you remember when we first met?"

 
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It was a wonder that the passing centaurs did not see them for the sound of hooves ignited her wings and no matter what she tried to sooth the Soulfire inside it raged and lashed against the barely there walls Caliane kept in place. The essence that was both alive and not had been incensed when it had realised what had happened to its host when it had laid in a fit of unconsciousness and now planned to see them all burnt to ash. Gritting her teeth, Caliane wrestled with the elemental being and eventually, finally won the mental war and wrested back control over her body. Her wings slowly returned to the pearly white to red gradiant they were by birth.

She let out a shaky breath and smiled to her mate in thanks for the distraction.

"Of course," warmth born from love filled her eyes and softened her features. Her wing was still warm when it brushed against his back. "That Wendigo is hard to forget."
 
He smiled. He had not known where their paths would when first he saw her, but she was a wonder all the same. The first of her kind seen since the beginning of an age, with the beauty of the spring's sun rising over misty meadows.

He hardly remembered the Wendigo, for his thoughts of those days dwelt only on her.

"And then Bhathairk," he said, weight carried in his words. There was little that needed to be said of that day, for it was a day of death a ruin. But there was a fondness tied there that could not be undone. He looked to her with the same warmth she offered him in his own eyes, remembering the kiss she'd placed upon his lips that day.

She'd saved him in more ways than one on that battered plain.

"But that night, beneath the shadow of the ruined tower... I still remember the flower I gave you," he smiled, thinking fondly on those moments, "that night we shared each other's company, up here," he said, gently tapping his finger to his temple, "it is not the same now that I no longer hear the Shoraes' song, and if their minds are weak enough, I can hear."

He did begin to grow worried, however. He did not like the way things were beginning to look.

"I should go... while their minds are tired and their thoughts a mess."

 
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Her smile wavered at the mention of that particular battlefield. The Amalgamation had nearly killed her and the memories were still sensitive to the touch. For better or worse it had set her down a path to fame and had, eventually, been the reason why the Avariels had agreed they could no longer hide in their mountains. The memory of the flower was far kinder and Caliane nodded, her hands slipping into his as he spoke of the loss she knew still bothered him.

"Very well," she sighed and followed his gaze to the ridgeline. Nerves stirred in her stomach like a swarm of angry hornets but she pushed it down. Erën could more than take care of himself. "If you're not back within an hour I'll come looking for you," and burn the place down in the process if she needed to. Leaning forward she stole one sweet kiss. "Be careful, hbeeti."
 
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After a gentle touch to her cheek and a quiet nod, he set out. The sun setting low on the horizon made it all the more easier for Erën to make his way, and before long he was upon the centaur's encampment. From just outside its shabby walls he could make out some speech from within, but he could not encroach on their minds. He was still too far away. So, as silently as he could, he ascended the wall and leapt over into the settlement.

He stuck to the shadows, hiding behind crates and barrels. Fortunately they were all too occupied with the returned party to pay much heed to the places he hid in, and without much delay he was able to find his way to where the healer dwelt. It was there he nestled behind the cover of a crate, and listened closely. Inside he could hear familiar voices; the healer, the one Melysius and the other, Damothee, and several others that he did not know by name. Many of them spoke at once, one to one and one to the other, but his ears were sharp enough to hear them each. They spoke of no prisoners, but they mentioned many dead.

Concern grew in the heart of him, and with a deep and quiet breath and the closing of his eyes, he began. His mind stretched out, and he perceived the things around him. The image of things took shape as his awareness moved past them, and soon the images of the centaurs within the tent took shape. Focusing more now, his awareness honed onto them, and reaching... slowly... he sought their minds.

Trees winding by... the path bending beneath them... hooves upon hooves striking the ground...

... shouting. Screaming. Steel meeting steel. Wooden walls caught in flames...

Faces.

Erën's eyes shot open.

With urgency he stood, and instinctively he reached out, using his magics to cause several crates and barrels to crash into a heap across the camp, distracting any who might see him as he turned and made a hasty escape.


He moved as quickly as he could, and disbanded any further sense of guile he likely should have kept. But there was no time.

"Caliane!" he hollered, "Fly! Fly with fire Caliane! Fly!"

He had not the time to explain, so hopefully she would understand.

 
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