Private Tales You'll Find Them

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Hahnah

Broken Human Slayer
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Hahnah saw the raising of Nycto's hands. Heard what he was saying, but his words washed over her to little effect, much like the tide of the sea splashing around a firm rock. Her fright had not relinquished its grip. Nycto was human--he would be human--just beneath that mask, she knew it. He was a killer of elves, and he would kill her too because that was the command of the sin he held in his heart. To this narrative she clutched, whether or not it was true. The shock and immediacy of the moment had boiled away all but the deepest and most fundamental parts of her being.

Tera grabbed Hahnah's hand, and this was like a shattering of the ice that had kept her locked in place. She ran along with Tera. Not thinking. Just in the motion. She knew that Tera was a human, but Tera had not killed any elves that Hahnah had seen--an unspoken, instinctual decision had therefore been made.

They didn't get far.

Back on the down-sloping street that had brought Hahnah to Idreth's home, Tera went down. Kicked in the head. Hahnah's first thought was that it was the red-haired woman, the one who had spoken of the tomb of the Dying God. But this was wrong--it was not. In the blink of an eye that masked human--Nycto--had again appeared from the long shadows and he engaged the assassin.

Hahnah took a few steps backward, thoughts racing. She thought to perhaps defend the assassin, to help him kill Nycto, but she could not see if the assassin was an elf--likely, but she had not seen. But then that terrible fracturing, the split in her mind between what she believed and what she had witnessed. It stifled her from taking action.

She looked down to Tera. Said, "I am sorry. I am sorry." She knew not why she was apologizing. Yet the words came all the same.

Then Hahnah turned.

Ran up the street.

And only got two steps before a handbolt from one of the Fellowship's wrist-mounted crossbows streaked by her. She stopped. Gasped. She glanced around in the dark street at the enshadowed homes and buildings and could not see her assailant.

In a harried desperation that reached down to many levels, Hahnah spread her arms in a beseeching manner and called out, "I am not your enemy! I love all of Elvenkind! Elves are one of the good people of Arethil! They are good! You are g--!"

A handbolt slammed into Hahnah's chest, just beneath the bone of her sternum. The impact forced her to stagger backward, knocked the strength from her legs, and caused her to fall back. Down on her rear end, propped up weakly by her arms.

Hollow were her eyes, save for horror at what just happened.


The sounds of combat, dispersed and fading even as they were, behind Hahnah. Behind and distant. Like echoes of someone else's life playing out in the downward street leading to the Shallows of Alliria. And that is truly what it felt like to Hahnah, as if she now were a person separated from all that had happened behind her, near Idreth's home.

Back there was a person who knew simple truths of the world. That elves were of the good people of Arethil, and that Humankind carried the profanity of sin.

Back there was a person who harbored no doubt. A person who trusted fully in the beliefs she had come to hold.

Back there was a person who understood her purpose and knew it to be blessed by the God who watched over her. For in all that she did, if she felt it to be good, she knew it to be good. Her heart always blossomed when she did what was right and wilted when she stumbled into doing what was wrong. There was no moral compass more precise than this.

Yet...all of this was changing. Slowly, softly, and silently, despite the stalwart resistance. And the handbolt, the miniature crossbow bolt fired from one of the Fellowship's wrist-mounted crossbows, imbedded in her chest was but one harbinger of such change. Idreth, the simple act of speaking with him, all of the talks they had shared during her time in Alliria, had been another. Much of what he said...was becoming clarified.

Hahnah stumbled along. One hand clutching the handbolt stuck in her chest, just beneath the bone of her sternum, the other palming the facades of houses and buildings for support as she trekked by. There was no blood that stained her shirt, even though with a wound as grievous as that there should well have been.

Hahnah, with a quick, strained look back over her shoulder, checked to see if any of the elves of the Fellowship (or any of those who had also come to Idreth's home) were following. She did not see anyone with her haphazard glance. And she stumbled into the small space between two workshops, the alley darkened by the failure of the moonlight to peer down into its narrow confines.

Her back to a wall, Hahnah slid down to into a seat, legs splayed out. She breathed. Winced heavily. Looked down with dismay to the handbolt she clutched, the bolthead still buried in her body.

Kyla Scathach
 

Kyla Scathach

The Red Wolf
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She had left the house shortly after retrieving the book.

Something had told her not to destroy it immediately. She wasn’t sure why but as her hand strayed to the fire to drop the book in..

Something had stopped her. Strange things were at work and Kyla didn’t like it one bit. She had tucked it away and was leaving down one of the back alleys between two shops. The moons light did little to pierce the dark veil and she found that out the hard way as she tripped over a person sat there.

“What the..” She cursed as she fell heavily pulling herself back up expecting to be met by some beggar cursing her. Instead her eyes cut through the gloom and foucused on the girl. That half elf from before. “You should have been long gone with that friend of yours.” Kyla said dryly picking her up by the arm not clutching the bolt and holding her aloft like she was some kind of toy.

“What stopped you?” She asked as her eyes fell on the bolt she was still clutching. “Oh..That would do it..” She adjusted how she was holding the girl instantly moving to cradle her in a sense. She was already covered in blood. What was a little more.

She held the girl protectively tight as she glanced about to see if the attacker was still out and about. When it seemed to grow more apparent they were not she carried the girl back to Irideths quickly. “Just keep breathing. Don’t die on me ok? I’ve seen enough death tonight.” She said entering the partly demolished home and laying her on his bed.

“This might hurt, but just hang in there alright?” She said gently. Her hand quickly snapping to the bolt and yanking it free. She found fast and abrupt was the best way to deal with pulling things out. Anticipating often made people’s muscles tense and made the bolt or arrow harder to pull free.

Tossing the bolt aside and pulling up her shirt she realized there was no blood. “Who are you.” She growled her hand flying to the girls throat. A vice like grip gave the impression she could squeeze much tighter if she didn’t like the answer. “What are you!” She said getting more angered. “Did my sister send you! Answer me!”
 
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Hahnah

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A thud, a jolt of her body, and someone tripping over her leg as an equally jarring jolt of alarm coursed through her. Alarm that was heightened to a frigidity that solidified her muscles in place as she was hauled up from the ground by her arm.

She saw who it was. The red-headed human woman. The elf killer.

Again she could not speak. Again she could not move, even if this time it was more on account of the shock of her wound and of being held tightly than by the sheer arresting horror of witnessing (elves...why elves?) kill Idreth. She knew immensely that she was still in danger, that the elves of the Fellowship were many, that the armored men called guards of Alliria were many, and most imminently that she was in the clutch of the woman who had crushed an elf to death with her hands and her arms alone.

Just keep breathing. Don't die on me ok? I've seen enough death tonight.

Humans were liars. It meant nothing to them to do so as they pleased and as it suited them. This one was lying--

(right?)

--no matter the content of her words. Yet, that uncertainty. Plaguing her ever since she had been bidden by the Dying God to walk among them, ever since her first steps in doing so.

Hahnah did not see from the outside that she had been brought back to Idreth's home, but she recognized the interior once inside--the damaged wall from which the red-headed woman had first appeared not inhibiting this.

This might hurt, but just hang in there alright?

Hahnah only realized what she was about to do when it too late to try and stop her, only a small utterance of "Wai--" escaping her mouth before the bolt was snapped and yanked free of her body. Hahnah winced heavily, teeth clenched and sucking in air, and she arched her back in an involuntary spasm. The bolthead, now removed, was the only thing which had blood upon it.

No blood around the wound when Kyla pulled up Hahnah's shirt to examine it. No blood...but small black fibers, like the searching antennae of probing insects, were poking forth from the hole left by the bolt. They moved of their accord, gliding languidly and writhing luridly, each seeking to thread through Hahnah's flesh and to slowly suture the wound shut. They were the fibers of what Hahnah called her Living Armor, the symbiotic entity which lived with her, once on the outside of her body and now within.

And the red-headed woman had seen them. And, as Hahnah feared, became hostile and aggressive as soon as she did.

A hand snapped to her neck. Choking. Loud questions. Demanding.

Hahnah reflexively brought her hands to Kyla's wrist but this was just that, mere reflex, and her strength paled in comparison to Kyla's own and would achieve nothing. But five Knives of Elemental Hatred formed in a halo around Hahnah's head and shoulders. Manifestations of flesh-consuming sorcery. The gift of magic from the Dying God, received long ago when she needed it most.

All five floating knives pointed at Kyla. Ready to launch.

"You are an elf killer," Hahnah said, her voice strained from Kyla's grip about her throat. Yet the words elf killer lacked the conviction she once would have had for them.

(because Hahnah was an elf killer too. the elf in the roadside tavern. what else could she have done...?)

She did not know who this woman was or who her sister was. She ignored it. Said, strained, "You are profane. And of profane things, I am the cleanser..."

Kyla Scathach
 

Kyla Scathach

The Red Wolf
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“Ha!” Kyla laughed. She couldn’t help it. The knives were odd but did not scare her in the least. It was foolish but she simply assumed most things wouldn’t kill her.

A foolish habit she tried to fight most of the time. Taking every threat as if it could end her life, but in this moment she simply didn’t care. Too much was happening for her to be trouble by something as trivial as death. If it came from the little jack knife well...She could use the rest.

“Elf killer? Yes. That and about every other race. I don’t think I’ve killed one of those angel things people see about now and again, but yes. I am.” She said her hand still tight to the girls throat. She spoke again.

“Hahaha! oh great cleanser please don’t smite me with your magic! Ha!” She spat. “And while you try I’ll just pop your head off like a cork. We can see which of us survives what.” She leaned in close. “Is that what you would like?” She whispered. “So you can go be with your human hating comrades that just killed one of my old friend. Did he need to be cleansed the same?”

She was starting to shake with contained rage as the thought of his corpse face down in the muck he so despised. Tears began to run down her face.

Tears of anger and true sorrow. One fell from her face and dripped to fall on Hannah’s cheek. “Then come on. Take your shot and let’s get this over with.” She hissed.
 
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Hahnah

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Hahnah held her nerve as best she could. The red-headed woman did not show fear and that was abnormal. That lack of fear from her was inspiration of dread in Hahnah--a deep and primal response, one rightly so, for the absence of fear hinted at something unknown, dangerous.

A killer of many things, many people. It was what she would expect from a human.

The following sarcasm was lost on Hahnah, with her tendency to take speech literally, and there was only a brief and visible confusion as the red-headed woman's words did not match her tone. The woman leaned in close then.

Is that what you would like?

Hahnah would have answered, No, that is not what I would like, but the woman continued and in this continuation something strange. Something that she had said. Old friend. Surprise became Hahnah. She knew that Idreth had many friends, garnered from his good spirits and genial nature, but she had difficulty believing that this woman, a human, could be one. And yet she had seen elves murder him. Elves who were supposed to be good. She knew that Idreth had renounced his war, that many of the things he had once thought had changed--

(changed like a butterfly)

--and that he did not see Humankind as harborers of sin all. Idreth was a good person, and Hahnah respected him and cared for him, but she could not reckon him into her scope of her worldview. He was an anomaly. And with his death there were many things left unanswered, and many things that Hahnah did not understand.

The woman. The human. Began to weep.

Hahnah, still fighting for each breath through the strong grip of Kyla's hands about her throat, keenly aware of the imminent danger that she was in, did not launch her Knives into the woman's head. Not quite yet. She kept them ready, the image of that elf utterly broken by the sheer strength of the very hands clutching her now clear in her mind, but she took a risk.

Asked in her strained voice, "What do you mean by 'old friend?'"

Kyla Scathach
 

Kyla Scathach

The Red Wolf
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Kyla’s grip loosened as it became apparent the knives would not launch. Though as they stayed out and ready so did her hand stay ready. She was no fool, but the question had caught her off guard.

“If you would really like to know put those knives away and I’ll let you go.” She said slowly beginning to pull away her hand. It was clear her sister had not sent this...Thing. It didn’t mean Kyla trusted it any more or less but it did mean there was a possibility for a peaceful end to this bloody night. She wiped her face. It really must have been more to bear than she realized. “I’m not sure if you knew Irideth well but if you wish I laid him to rest out behind the house away from the slurry.” She released her now regardless of if she had “sheathed” her daggers. A dismissal wave that almost seemed to say “Do as you wish.”

If the girl decided to go to her friends final place of rest Kyla would sigh. Casting her eyes about the room she would see a small tray. Three small cakes sat neatly. “For a friend tonight. Please don’t touch.” She decided that of that friend did come they wouldn’t want to eat these cakes anyway after seeing the bodies. She picked up the tray tossing the note aside to reveal another smaller note.

“Kyla your the only other person here. Do NOT TOUCH THEM. Back in the evening.” She snorted and tossed that one aside as well. Smug bastard.

She really should have listened to him sooner.

Kyla would take her time getting to the grave. Partly to give the girl time to be with him if she indeed was a friend, but another part of her didn’t want to look at it again. A grim reminder of her own life. The past always caught up with death bringers. Usually after they were fed and resting. Her own sister had waited in the shadows as she fought herself into and through every obstacle that faced her. And after the years had satisfied her stomach for blood.

Her sister had come back from the grave. Brynn...Why.. She would shove these thoughts aside as she would finally make the corner and saw the grave. If the girl was sat by the grave Kyla would sit next to her offering her the tray.


“Here..They were for a friend of his, but I think you might need them more.” She would say gently. “So I told you I would tell you more of my relationship with Irideth. But in return for that and these cakes you have to tell me the nature of your relationship as well.” She said pulling the tray slightly out of reach. “Deal?” She asked with a cocked eyebrow.
 
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Hahnah

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Cautious eyes tracking the slow retreat of the woman's hands from around her neck. Slowly Hahnah edged herself a small distance away on Idreth's bed, coming to sit up as well, her face wrinkling from a wince. Though she did not bleed externally, still some damage had been done within her body, and it would take time to recover.

The Knives yet floated in their halo, Hahnah keeping them ready even as the woman had backed off and spoke. She flicked her eyes toward the small back door which led to the Slush Alley, where Idreth--

(had been murdered)

--had been killed by the elves of the Fellowship. Back to the woman. Back to the door. Then Hahnah carefully stood up from the bed and moved in such a way that she did not turn her back to the woman, shuffling toward the door, and then departing through it.

She would have liked her question to be answered, but she was more eager to be out of the literal clutch of danger. Of death. Yet, in a way, by going out to see if the woman had spoken the truth about burying Idreth, that in itself would be an approximate answer. Elurdrith had taught her of the value of burying those that you love and those that you respect, to peacefully return them to the welcoming earth and to Arethil as a whole. She had done the same for him, for Kylindrielle, digging out their graves with her bare hands when they were slain.

It did not take long for Hahnah to find the plot of dirt, beyond the Slush Alley, beyond the corpses of the slain Fellowship elves therein and the absence of Idreth's own, where the earth was freshly disturbed. And once she saw it the Knives dissipated in a gentle puff of magic each, Hahnah willing them away. She sat down on her heels beside the grave. Sat with prim and perfect posture for a moment, and then leaned forward to touch the loose dirt.

Moments later, she saw in her periphery the woman approaching. Hahnah did not start and she did not fear and she did not summon her sorcery again. Her caution was reserved--present but restrained.

Hahnah glanced to the tray and the cake offered by the woman. Idreth's work, the last of its kind that would ever be. She lifted her hand from the dirt and sat back onto her heels in her statuesque way and silently nodded.

Deal?

"Yes, that is fair," Hahnah said, a quiet solemnity in her tone.

Kyla Scathach
 
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Kyla Scathach

The Red Wolf
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Kyla sighed. She didn’t even know how to handle her own feelings without being asked to handle another’s. She almost reached out to the girl but thought better of it turning her gesture into a scratch behind her head. “Irideth and I were two of a kind..He hated humans..and I hated everything.” Kyla’s fists clenched remembering those days..

“I had weapons. He had a war. Satisfied that we were indeed no longer human we struck a bargain. After so many years he gave up. I visited him then as a client. I wanted to ensure the fellowships business. He was little help in that regard. The fellowship didn’t take kindly to those that hung up the mantle. I hadn’t known it then but it made sense when he revealed it to me. I had gotten there late and he insisted I stay the night. We talked. He spoke of the happiness he gained from his new life of peace. I laughed then. Just an old elf that has lost the stomach..” Kyla chuckled.

“It’s funny now. I really got the raw end of the deal. Maybe if I had met him after he had stopped..Maybe I would have listened to him sooner..” She sighed seeming to realize she still had the cakes. “Oh..Sorry..” Kyla passed the tray to her carefully. “But one day..I found my own stomach for death and hatred beginning to fill..I visited him once more. A very different frame of mind possessing how I viewed what he said.” Kyla smiled patting the mound of dirt.

“He helped me figure things out..Helped me see the ways I could now use my time and money to give back.” She stared at the ground intently.

“Not very interesting..But I like to think we had a good connection..In lines of work like ours people like Irideth are the closest we get to friends. We try to treasure them..” Kyla finished. Staring up at the stars.
 
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Hahnah

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Strange, to hear the woman's tale in its totality. To imagine her and Idreth as friends. And to Hahnah such a thing seemed almost...sacrilegious. Something that was and yet should not have been. Something that went beyond the boundaries of what was sacred and what was profane, something that was not the sacred triumphing over the profane nor the profane corrupting the sacred, both natural happenings of joy and sorrow in the world and the inevitable result of conflict between the two. It suggested a tearing down of said boundaries, a bleeding of the sacred into the profane and vice versa. A mixing that was highly upsetting. Disquieting.

And yet Hahnah's path since her transformation had been nothing but that: disquieting. There was a bliss in the simplicity of her old way, of being the cleanser of profane things and nothing more. A wordless feeling that, despite everything, all was right with the world, for the very foundation upon which her understanding of it stood was left undisturbed to prop up all that she believed in. Humankind were the bearers of immeasurable cruelty, Elvenkind the bearers of boundless kindness. The sinful and the righteous. How it was, and deeper than that, how it should be.

But following the Dying God's new bidding, in walking among them...everything was being challenged. And she knew not the true purpose the Dying God meant for her in this.

Hahnah accepted the tray with the small cake once passed to her. Let it rest in her lap as she sat.

And when Kyla finished, after a brief moment passing, Hahnah began, "Alliria is a place that is very foreign to me. I came here with a friend, and because I needed to, but I am still..." Searching for the best word, one that summed up how she felt in both ways that mattered, "...uncomfortable in the city."

Eyes to the earthen grave. "Idreth simply noticed this as I was walking past his house. He called out to me. I answered, and we talked for many nights. We talked of war and what it does, what it means, for those who take part in it. We talked of the proper ways of being in the world. There were things that he said that I still do not understand and things that he said that I disagreed with, but we both wanted peace...and he found it."

She let out a quiet, nearly inaudible sigh. "He was a very wise elf, and I cared for him deeply."

Her eyes drifted to the tray with the small cake in her lap, and then back over to the woman beside her. The human. The bearer of immeasurable cruelty. And yet that is not what Idreth would have thought.

Again, a risk. "My name is Hahnah. What is yours?"

Kyla Scathach
 

Kyla Scathach

The Red Wolf
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Kyla’s eyes widened in slight surprise. So this was the name in the book.. She hadn’t expected this..Kyla doubted she knew what this thing pretending to be a girl was..It wasn’t human by any stretch. Kyla was in no position to judge.

She was her no different from the girl before her in that respect. A killing machine pretending to be a normal woman. She had learned her peace over time gradually. It had not come to her naturally. And currently still alluded her. She had had it once. She could again.

Her thoughts moved back to her own girls. So many months alone..She ached to see them. Letters came occasionally, and a couple of old friends were visiting regularly and keeping an eye on things. She was grateful...

“I understand your feeling. Cities were once the same for me. Places of corruption and filth. I used to fit right in. Now I can barely stand the stench of the place.” She said with a sniff.

“I’m glad to hear he touched you as he did me. But..Do you know what this is? I found it in Irideths trunk. He wished for me to destroy it, but I think that was before he met you..Because..” Kyla pulled out the black book flipping to the page she had marked. Hannah’s name written hastily in red and underlined. “Your name is in here and awful lot.” She continued flipping through the pages.

It was.

One after another some with question marks. Some with exclamation points. All in red.
 
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Hahnah

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Places of corruption and filth. Yes, that was a good way to describe the settlements that Hahnah had been to, and Alliria most of all. Other towns and villages were rancid with Humankind, filled solely with them where Alliria had a more eclectic mixture, but Alliria's massive size dwarfed those other places. And there were still plenty of humans around to keep Hahnah on edge. She knew that she was spared immediate aggression and hostility by the lone quality of her new appearance. Had she her skin that was black as midnight, had she her eyes that simmered like the embers of a smoldering fire, had she her Living Armor living outside of her body rather than within now, then she would not even have been able to walk freely in these settlements.

Would this woman beside her have acted differently? If Hahnah looked the way she did when she had been born, and not as she was now in the wake of her transformation? Would she have, regardless of anything to do with Idreth shared between them?

She couldn't ruminate on the thought for long. The red-haired woman produced a book. Asked about it and opened it and showed her. Hahnah's brow furrowed, and she leaned over slightly and peered.

"Hahnah...Hahnah, Hahnah. Hahnah," she said, sounding out the letters of her name in order to read them. Such was new to her, reading--this gained only from Zael's knowledge of it after her transformation. It was better for her to hear the sound of the letters aloud, rather than to try and hear them in her mind.

Yet this was all very confusing. Hahnah did not know what to make of it, and stared in pure puzzlement at the pages as the woman flipped through them, seeing her name upon many of them, sometimes with symbols that she did not recognize around it.

"I...do not understand,"
Hahnah said, giving voice to her confusion. "You said that you found this in Idreth's trunk? Do you know if he wrote this himself? If that is so, then how could it be? I have only met him since I came to Alliria, and he did not mention this to...me."

Yet. What if he had been planning on doing so this very night, before the elves of the Fellowship killed him? Hahnah's head swooned with the possibility, and she blinked rapidly. Some pain from the closed wound in her chest brought on a small wince afterward, but this faded quickly.

Overcome with her curiosity of the strange book and the mystery behind it, the fact that Kyla was human slipped from Hahnah's mind. Apprehension and caution draining away to leave a certain neutrality.

Kyla Scathach
 

Kyla Scathach

The Red Wolf
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“He wrote your name. I know his hand well. This is far too old to be his work. I’m sure he wouldnt have written it in...” She flipped the book back around and scrutinized the strange text...”What ever this is..”

Almost elvish.

But it wasn’t right..

Like some one took the fluidly, flowing elvish language and mangled it. “This isn’t any elfish my mother ever used..” She said in fluent elvish.

She blinked.

Elvish was stuck on her brain at the moment it seemed.

“Sorry.” She said returning the common and flipping the book back to face her. “But even if he didn’t write he..He could at least read it..” She mused.
 
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Hahnah

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Hahnah continued to gaze at the book with fascination as Kyla thumbed through it, flipped it around, opened it again. Her name, written in symbols that she had some fledgling knowledge of, she recognized. But everything else she did not. It was not Common, the written script which Zael had known and which by extension Hahnah was familiar with. So what was it? Hahnah starkly lacked the capacity to even see in the form of the symbols themselves a clue as to the language that they represented.

This isn't any elfish my mother ever used..

Oh. Was it then? Was this what written Elvish looked like? She had some thin memories of her caretakers trying to teach her how to read, but so long ago was it that she could not clearly recall if they had tried teaching her the Common script, the Elvish script, or both. Regardless, it would not have mattered--the knowledge had slipped consistently from her mind, discarded as if a silent watchman had decreed at every attempt that it was unnecessary, and this continued until her transformation in Strathford.

Then Hahnah's thoughts were interrupted. Suddenly. By a realization.

Hahnah looked back up to her. "You speak Elvish." Less a question, and more of a stated observation. Then she as well spoke briefly in Elvish, saying with a small hint of respect and admiration, "That is...I find that to be surprising."

Hahnah returned her attention to the book then. Thought for a moment. Deep in curiosity and consideration, the small cake in her lap, much like the fact of Kyla's being human, slipped from her mind and she forgot that it was even there.

Those old memories of Kylindrielle and Elurdrith. Each of them. Reading to her. Reading what she could not.

"If you cannot read it, and I cannot read it," Hahnah said at length, "maybe we can find someone who can read it for us."

It seemed right. Right to know this last little piece of Idreth, why he had this book and why Hahnah's name had been written within it. Perhaps, in the discovery, he would have some final wisdom to bestow.

Kyla Scathach
 

Kyla Scathach

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“My birth mother was human.” Kyla admited with a pleased smirk. “But the mother I grew up with was elven. She taught me and my sisters. After learning Elvish most other languages are pretty easy.” She continued with a shrug. Something about this thing fascinated her. She knew it was not human by any stretch. She wouldn’t really even assume it’s gender at this point. Even if it looked like a young female half elf. She looked at her perfect ramrod posture with a curious slight tilt of her head. Hahnah spoke further and Kyla nodded. They were in agreement in a goal at least.

“I think our best bet would be deeper in the city. Maybe one of the old mages in one of the shops may know. I doubt it..” Kyla said with a shrug. “You..You can stay close to me if you wish to come. Unless you need rest or..More time with him. I forget my endurance is usually a bit more resilient than others..” She finished standing once more and offering the “girl.” A hand to help her up.

“And what about that wound..Do things like..Whatever you are..Are you hurt or will it sort itself. I’m no doctor but I can help ease some pain and keep it clean if I need to..” Kyla offered as well. She had noticed the wound had been causing her discomfort but there hadn’t been a chance to bring it up. Her name as well. Hahnah had given hers but Kyla had dodged the question on purpose at first.

Now she felt more comfortable, and yet such curious matters pressed at their minds she doubt hahnah cared she didn’t know her name. Just as long as she felt safe enough to be near and converse Kyla doubted her name mattered much.

Perhaps that was a blessing..
 
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