Meeting the Parents

Moirean

Two logs from a rather long separation of time. This first one was right after Moi alienated herself from Enorian and the Sentinels by flippantly and stubbornly getting engaged to Tralendar and was considering what to do. Uncertain, she faces one of her biggest fears to help her decide which choice to make. This (and the next log) takes place in Moi's house, the family's ancestral tower she inherited from her father after he was murdered.

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An elegant atelier. (Enorian.)

Clearly a multi-purpose room, this area combines study with work, as well as relaxation. A yawning fireplace occupies the far side of the library, the marble mantle artfully strewn with a collection of trinkets and familial heirlooms. The firelight casts a cozy glow on the book-lined shelves set flush against the walls and gives a pleasant warmth to the deep leather chairs ringed around the hearth. Nearer to the door, a large and impressive desk stacked with a neat pile of papers faces a small artist's studio. Half-finished carvings and sculptures litter the floor behind a tripod holding an incomplete painting, the stretched canvas on the stand only partially covered in vivid colors. Tacked to the walls, a scattered display of scribbled recipes, sketches for jewelry designs and rough clothing patterns indicate that this section of the room is the one most often used. There are 3 pure white letters here. Twigs and pieces of antler create a rugged frame for this painting hung here, depicting a gory scene of nature's brutal side. Worn by time, an heirloom rocking chair sits here, creaking gently. A soft, black velvet couch sits here in center of the room. Toz is here. A small sign indicates that LIBRARY CATALOG will list the materials in this library.

You have emoted: Moirean roughly drops down onto the couch, letting out a sigh as she hits the cushions. "Life is..." she trails off, shrugging moodily as she glares into the fireplace.

You sit down on a black velvet couch.

Toz clanks down beside you on the couch. "Life is life," he says with a small smile. "And I want to be around you - I think I've made that kinda clear?" he offers, kissing your cheek once.

You have emoted: Moirean leans against you, her hair tickling your cheek. She lets out another sigh as her arms find their way around your waist. "It's hard," she admits, with some difficulty. "I may show the world this cavalier, devil-may-care attitude, but...it's hard."

You say, "Enorian doesn't want me, Sentinels didn't want me, and now, even trying a new path, nor do THEY want me." She lets out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and cutting. "Isn't that rich?"

You say, "Enorian was so concerned that this situation would corrupt me and convert me to darkness - but the darkness doesn't WANT me."

You have emoted: "Only you want me," Moirean states. After a moment, she belatedly adds, "And Tralendar, I guess."

You say, "Even my Lord is worried about what having me around means."

Toz scowls a little at the mention of Tralendar's name, though he tries to hide it. "Well," he begins, then abruptly stops. In a small voice he confesses, "I'm not sure what to say."

Her own voice quiet, you say, "Me neither."

Scowling without bothering to hide it now, Toz says, "One day I'll be strong enough to fix things like this."

 

Gently, you say to Toz, "Am I not strong? Yet I can't fix it..."

Toz says to you, "I...I don't know. I just don't like this, and I know you can't either."

You have emoted: Moirean lifts one shoulder in a listless shrug.

Toz kisses your hair gently. "Eventually things will fix. They can't stay bad for forever," he says soothingly, massaging your shoulder with one clawed hand.

You have emoted: Moirean rests her cheek against your chest, exhaling slowly. "I want to join the Carnifex," she explains. Her brow furrows a bit, and she clarifies, "They are...weak, and I could rise through the ranks there and lead again. Right now, I hunger for that - not just for a place to belong, but for power, something to work for and lead."

Softly, you say, "I've lost so much. My next steps must be to ensure I will gain even more."

Toz nods. "Makes sense. That's why I came here..." he trails off and adds in a quiet voice, "I put off getting knighted to make sure I wouldn't break any oaths if I followed you away." He smiles at you a little and repeats, "I'll follow you anywhere."

You have emoted: Moirean swallows heavily, lifting her head and turning to look up at you. "Will you be happy, leaving it all? Becoming...dark...?"

Toz kisses you gently. "I discovered that there are some things more important than Life. Morality is my concern, and there are people hurting on both sides I feel sure." He smiles a little and adds, "Besides, I'm content if you're with me no matter what."

You have emoted: Moirean offers a faint smile in reply, although her eyes appear uncertain.

Toz squeezes you gently. "Just tell me when you're ready to go, and where we're headed," he says with a small smile.

You have emoted: Moirean nods, resting her head against your chest again. "Spinesreach, perhaps..." she murmurs. "It just depends what they all say..."

Toz nods his agreement. "I'm not enemied there. I am to Bloodloch though, I guess I'll need to pay that fine.."

You have emoted: Moirean abruptly pulls away from you, twisting to her feet. A grim note is in her voice, and her words shake with some emotion - is that fear? - as she says, "You should meet my mother."

You stand up and stretch your arms out wide.

Toz blinks and nods, rising to his feet wordlessly to follow you.

 

Toz follows you to the south.

Landing on a spiral stair. (Enorian.)

Toz follows you to the down.

Lofty and elegant hall. (Enorian.)

Toz follows you to the down.

Well-stocked wine cellar. (Enorian.)

A heavy suit of antique armour stands here, candlelight dancing off its polished surface. 

You see exits leading west and up.

You have emoted: Moirean pulls down on the arm of the platemail suit. With a small click, the entire set of armour slides away, revealing a tiny hidden pasage.

Toz follows you to the in.

Tunnel beneath the waves. (Enorian.)

You have emoted: Moirean exhales sharply before falling to her knees, pulling away the rug underfoot to reveal a trapdoor recessed into the floor. She fumbles at her waist for her keyring, her shaking hands making the keys clatter loudly. The noise bounces off the glass walls of the tunnel in an echoing cacophony.

In a stammer, you say, "M-mo-moment..."

Toz nods once. "Are you okay?" he asks, voice laden with concern.

 

You have emoted: Moirean inhales deeply and nods, finally managing to insert a heavy, antique key into the lock. With effort, she twists and jiggles the key, finally coaxing the lock open - the click is loud, almost ominous. She then lifts the door, pulling it upwards with a protesting shriek of rusted hinges. A chill, stale air rushes forth from the opening, washing across your ankles and filling the chamber with a musty odor.

Toz's nose wrinkles at the smell, and he glances from you to the trap door. "You keep your mother down here?" he asks, appearing slightly confused and uncertain.

You have emoted: A slender ladder of interwoven steel cables catches your eye. Bolts attach it to the floor and it was evidently covered by the rug. Moirean turns and, with a slow sweep of her arm, knocks it into the yawning opening. Flashes of light bounce back at you as the cables unfurl down into the gloom below, the ladder itself vanishing into the darkness. The Imp nods mutely and begins to descend, the ladder twisting and swaying with her climb. Her crimson curls are visible for a brief moment, shining bright as blood, and then she, too, is gone, lost in the murky shadows.

The ladder sways slowly, cables softly moving against the floor in a whispering slide: an unsettling invitation, if anything.

Pitch black oubliette. (Enorian.)

This yawning shaft stretches away into shadow, the single hatch inset in the roof high above inaccessible from below. Hollowed out from the bedrock of the cliff itself, the chamber's smooth walls provide no hope of escape, though rust-coated iron spikes, driven into clefts in the rock faces, taunt captives to attempt - judging from ominous darker streaks on the metal, many have tried, favouring a swift, if violent, death over the lingering pain of immurement. A grim pall hangs over this room, leeching strength and motivation, as if the chamber itself is sapping the prisoner of hope, leaving only a numb dread, the lone companion for the unfortunate locked in this aphotic cell. 

There are no obvious exits.

Toz arrives from the up.

Toz clanks a final time as he drops from the ladder past the remaining few rungs. He turns and glances around, eyes wide as he struggles to see in the darkness. Locating you by the red curls of you hair, he moves quickly closer to you, arm bumping against your.

You have emoted: Moirean's hand finds yours, her fingers gripping yours tightly, digging into your palm. Her body lightly presses against yours and you can sense every muscle is tense, faintly shaking. A slender shaft of light filters down from above, dimly illuminating her: her head is turned away, staring at some unseen sight in the depths of the dark chamber, and a tendon in her neck twitches as she bites down, clenching her jaw.

Toz's hand squeezes your tightly as he tries to both provide and seek comfort. He opens his mouth to speak, though it is a quiet few moments before he asks, "What has you so scared?" He peers into the darkness, following your gaze, eyes wide and ears straight up as he struggles to find sensory information in the chamber.

A soft rustling reaches your ears, emanating from the depths of the chamber. It is a dry, soft sound, like the slide of cloth, snagging against bone.

You have emoted: Moirean does not reply - she seems almost paralyzed. Her only movement is to tighten the grip on your hand.

Toz glares into the dark towards the sudden sound, his free hand falling to his bastardsword's hilt, seeming to take comfort from the feel of the weapon's leather grip in his hand. Eyes still fixed upon the direction the sound came from, he kisses you on the cheek quickly, reassuringly.

A second sound joins the first: a whisper. A quiet exhalation, nothing more, soft as a sigh, yet chilling. There is something sinister in the sound, like a death rattle, a dying breath escaping...

You have emoted: Moirean's fingers are nearly clawing your palm now - perhaps drawing blood - and you can hear her audibly swallow. Slowly, as if struggling against an unseen presence, she takes a tottering step forwards, feet dragging against the stone floor. Finally, her voice pitched low, she speaks, words echoing through the chamber.

 

You have emoted: Moirean says to a wailing banshee, "...hello, mother..."

You have emoted: At Moirean's voice, you see what she sees, finally - a dull gleam in one corner of the cell, as dim as the last ember in a fire, yet sickly, something oily and unwholesome about the light.

The banshee:

A wasted woman stands here, empty eyes staring blankly into the blackness of the cell. Her body is translucent, shimmering slightly in the dark chamber, while a chill aura radiates outwards; her outstretched arms end in curving clawlike nails, the hands gnarled and skeletal in their thinness. Lank strands of tangled ebony hair hang down her back, seemingly wind-whipped and snarled, despite the oubliette's stifling stillness, but it is her face that is most arresting - evidently once lovely, her now ravaged face is completely devoid of hope, her deadened eyes gazing emptily while her mouth stretches wide in a forlorn wail.

Toz's eyes finally see what you was looking for and he leans back slightly. A quick glance at you, however, provides him with the nerves he needs and he forces himself to stand neutrally, hand withdrawing from his sword. He inclines his head politely and, in as respectful a tone as he can muster, he offers, "Greetings."

Darkness presses at your sightless eyes, heavy and stifling in its oppressive gloom. Although seemingly alone in the chamber, soft whispers and muffled screams reach your ears, though whether from fellow occupants, or only ghostly memories, you cannot detect.

You have emoted: All is quiet in the cell, the whisper fading away, yet at your words, it returns, redoubling, rising, sound swiftly skirling higher and louder, crashing into a hissing, shrieking torrent of noise. A scream, sharpening, louder, louder, louder, piercing your ears: "...Aaa....mmoiii....mmMm...mMmooimoireannnn....dauughterrr..."

Toz flinches visibly, his free hand clasping his ears as they fold down, attempting to minimize the sound. The claws of his other hand dig into your skin as his teeth grit against the pain from the sound.

You have emoted: Moirean presses closer to you and you can feel her body shaking tremulously, uncontrollably. "Mo-mother..." she softly repeats, her words drowned in the scream.

Toz does not seem to notice your words, though even in his disoriented haze he notices you move closer. He responds by pressing closer himself, the pressure on your hand relaxing a little though Toz remains tense, jaw clenched.

You have emoted: A wailing banshee's scream drops, suddenly, into a hiss, the sound serpentine. Slimy. With a shambling step, she stumbles a bit closer, and her form becomes clearer in all its wasted glory. One hand is raised to her face, absently clawing at her eyes. Beside you, Moirean exhales sharply.

You have emoted: Voice trembling, Moirean poorly jests, "M-meeting t-the parents. Always n-nervewracking, r-ri-right?"

Toz glances from the banshee to you. Though obviously scared he remains stubbornly close to you. "I-I wouldn't know," he murmurs back. He exhales slowly, relaxing a little more as he begins to come to terms with the existance of a creature within your house.

You have emoted: A wailing banshee hisses louder at the joke, her fingers curling to tear at her own hair. "DAUGHTER!" she shrieks, and the noise hits you - this, now, is the true force of a banshee's cry: the sound itself seems to take flight, ravens spewing from her lips to bat raucously at your senses, buffeting you. Beside you, Moirean is driven to her knees, and perhaps she is sobbing, but about you all is the darkness and the din of the scream, and the birds, and the chamber is fading away...

Toz staggers back, releasing your hand as he falls, and hitting the ladder. The noise from the contact is rendered irrelevant by the noise filling the chamber. He rests heavily upon the ladder, eyes squeezing shut and both hands clamped firmly over his ears as he seeks a way to escape the pain from the noise, mouth open in what may be a scream, though with so much noise it is impossible to tell.

You have emoted: The cry carries you, the darkness pierced by a wavering spot of illumination. A torch, in the distance. You are in a hallway. Stone. Cold. Long. The clack of boots running, the flap of a robe, ahead a man is turning a corner...for some reason you can't define, you turn - there is a window there, and the sky is bloody, the last hints of twilight hanging in the sky. Some whisper is nagging at you, but it is merely a nuisance, a gnat, "...Toz, come back, Toz, no...", so irritating, it is just Moirean crying at you, but she is so far away...

 

You have emoted: And the scream rises and light floods the scene. You've left the hallway, and are in a bedchamber now, richly adorned, wood-paneled, sweltering heat. A second scream lifts to meet the banshee's call, but this one is pained, bloody, alive...a woman on the bed...so beautiful, stomach swollen, panting. Her hair is tangled and sweaty - it is the same rich crimson as Moirean's curls part of you remembers - and then she screams again, and there is more crimson, slick, bright, spilling over the bedsheets. She screams and screams and screams.

You have emoted: The cry of the banshee and the woman's twine, a duet lengthening into one chilling, sobbing note, and the image begins to fade, the vision fading to the bleak black of the chamber. Afterglow from the scene dazzles your eyes, but as the scream softens, you feel the chamber about you again: cold stone, misty air, Moirean clinging to your arm, and her whispers, remote, reach you again.

Toz slides slowly down the ladder until he is sitting, propped against it. His eyes stare straight forward, unseeing, his hands fallen away from his ears, the arm limp in your grasp. Dark blood stains the fur near his ears and the palms of his hands, though the ragged rise and fall of his chest proves he is still yet alive.

You murmur to Toz, "Oh Toz, come back, Toz...."

You have emoted: A wailing banshee's scream dwindles away, fading to a gasping sigh. "Daughter..." she whispers roughly, a heartbreaking novel of emotion carried in that one breath. Love, anger, pain, resent, regret, fear. Death. Beside you, Moirean is crying, shaking you, trying to draw you back.

Toz exhales raggedly before gasping in, coming to life again. He blinks and winces, groping behind him to find the ladder. Gripping a rung firmly, he forces himself back to his feet unsteadily. His eyes still somewhat unfocused, he glances towards you uncertainly. "I..I'm alright," he says in a slightly too loud voice.

A distant shriek filters down to you from above, the ghostly voice fading to a whimpering moan, as you can hear hinges creaking and an invisible body thudding to the ground nearby.

Shakily, Toz says, "I-I'm okay. Are you okay?"

You have emoted: Moirean scrabbles at you, struggling to find her way into your arms. She shakes her head, curls bouncing - the same hair from the woman in the vision - and imploringly stares up the ladder at the square of light far above.

Toz wraps his arms tight around you. "Let's go," he agrees, struggling to stand fully upright. He holds you close for a long moment before very pointedly stepping away from you. "You go up first," he says, swaying a little on his feet.

You have emoted: Moirean shakily scrambles up the ladder, her feet missing the rungs several times. She slips downwards, hands slicing against the steel cables, but frantically continues, wings flapping to help her. From behind you, a wailing banshee hisses again, the sound dropping to a keen as Moirean slowly, awkwardly escapes the cell.

Tunnel beneath the waves. (Enorian.)

You see exits leading south and out.

Toz arrives from the down.

Toz pants as he reaches the top of the ladder, forcing himself to move at a steady, slow pace as he arrives at the top though to judge from the loud clanking when he was out of sight, his ascent was rather rapid.

You have emoted: Moirean collapses on the ground, kicking the trap door closed with a feeble swing. It slams shut with an ominous thud, dust rising in a small cloud.

You have emoted: From her sprawl, limbs akimbo, Moirean whispers, "I want her back."

Toz sits down beside you, nodding wordlessly. "I'm sorry," he says gently, absently wiping his hands on his clothes.

You have emoted: Moirean rolls onto her side, resting her head on your knee. "I never knew her," she confesses. "I only knew..." she trails off, eyes finding the trapdoor. "Only knew THAT, down there. What became of her, after I was born."

Toz nods slightly. "I...well. Nothing I can say will help, I don't think," he says, voice still louder than normal. He inspects his hand and, satisfied that it is more or less free of blood, soothingly strokes your hair.

You have emoted: Moirean glances away from the trapdoor with a shudder, hugging her arms around your leg. One hand idly picks at the weave of your trousers, while she frowns in thought. Finally, she says, "Carnifex use souls."

Cautiously, you say, "They know how to...twist them, change them. Edhain told me, once, there was no rescuing her, that she was lost."

Toz's ears perk slightly as he strains to hear you. "Maybe they can help, then?" he asks. "Bring her back or make her more whole." He refuses to look towards the trap door, instead watching you with visible concern.

You have emoted: Moirean exhales slowly, her voice coming a bit stronger, apparently bolstered by your reply. "I...maybe? I think I want to learn the arts and see what I can do." She frowns. "Maybe nothing. But - I have to try, right?"

Toz nods at you, eagerly agreeing. "I can help. I'm sure I can." He reaches out and takes your hand in his own, kissing your hand gently. "Not much the two of us can't do together.."

You have emoted: Moirean turns to look up at you, a smile on her lips - the first real one you've seen from her in a long time. "I know you can," she murmurs in reply, lifting a hand to tenderly stroke your cheek.

You have emoted: Moirean rises to suddenly press her lips against yours in a soft kiss. "Thank you," she murmurs quietly.

You murmur to Toz, "I need to go speak with the Carnifex. They have questions for me."

Neithan tells you, "We're ready when you are. Just give the word and we'll meet...someplace near North of Trees."

Toz nods at you. He kisses you back warmly, drawing back slightly to regard you with a wide smile.

Toz murmurs to you, "I need to go anyway, but...I'll speak with someone soon, about getting unenemied and joining."

You nod your head at Toz.

***And then Moi goes and speaks to the Carnifex.***

Moirean

The second is from a long time later (ie very recently). Toz is drastically different (though there are some interesting similarities that still remain), Moi leads Carnis and Spinesreach. Relevant backstory is that Moi was originally a little grey Rajamala, until she went Imp as Khepri's OH. Also relevant is that Moi and Toz share a vague sort of soul-link due to him using part of his soul when he made her the soulforged arm - they can sense each other's emotions and impressions of thoughts/memories if they are strong enough. Also, Moi keeps accidentally getting Toz upset by mentioning his Undeath. Scene opens the day after him getting ragey over her teasing him for not having a heartbeat.

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She is a powerful Imp and is a slight, slender creature. Small, bat-like wings fan out from her shoulder blades, while a curling tail twists behind her to occasionally twitch in vaguely mischievous movements. A pair of petite horns frames her features, sprouting from her brow to highlight a pair of bright, amber eyes. Auburn hair tumbles around pointed ears in tangled curls, the color a lurid match for the seared brand of a thirteen-pointed star across her forehead. Her right arm is sheathed from the elbow downwards in an elaborate steel gauntlet, its surface covered with a spiderwebbed network of slender black lines. The delicate etchings twist across the metal, constantly pulsing with flares of murky, warped darkness. She walks with the blessing of Niuri. She walks with the blessing of Iosyne.

     (hanging from a chain around her neck) : an entwined starstone engagement ring wreathed in ro..

           (heavily jangling from her belt) : a brass keyring

                     (set at a rakish cant) : a pair of Impish horns

                (tightly covering her legs) : black leather soldier's pants

          (on her neck below her right ear) : a black-inked tattoo of a pair of crossed fists

      (melded to the stump of her left arm) : a steel arm webbed in living soulstone

                       (perched on the ear) : a clinging spider earring

                       (skimming her torso) : a black, silken bodice

                   (utilitarian and sturdy) : a pair of boots

     (hanging from a chain around her neck) : a ring engraved with the Seirath crest

He is an undead dexterous Azudim. Form comprised of wiry muscles, his build is tall and thin. His siena-hued skin is distinctly leathery in texture, covered in callouses and rough to the touch. His hair is raven black, worn short and slicked back. His right ear ends in a sharp point and the tip of his left has been blunted by a bite. His face is angular, thin lips concealing a row of dangerously sharp teeth, and his eyes are an icy blue. Digitigrade feet hold up his form, each ending in a three-taloned foot. From his back sprouts two leathery wings - each jointed to allow them to fold the patagium against his back when not in use, safely out of harm's way. Sinuously extending behind him is a thin tail, the tip shaped like an arrowhead.

                       (covering the torso) : a long-sleeved black woolen shirt

                         (worn on the legs) : black leather soldier's pants

                             (worn on head) : a dented and beaten-up bucket

                         (worn on a finger) : a ring engraved with the Seirath crest

                          (around the neck) : a hardy entwined grisly necklace of fanged skulls

                         (worn on the back) : a tower shield

Lofty and elegant hall. (neighborhoods of Spinesreach.)

A heavy chandelier lights this hall, twists of gilt and glass holding dozens of candles aloft in a shimmering display. Strung from a long chain, the lamp hangs elevated above the room, illuminating an elegant entry hall. Warm-toned, polished wood lines the floor, while narrow, long windows paned with intricate panels of stained glass are set high in the walls allow for light to filter through in a colorful display, without compromising security. A winding staircase, featuring an elaborately carved balustrade, spirals around the room, climbing upwards through the tower. Opposite the wide stair is the massive entry to the tower - serving both defence and decoration, the heavy wooden door displays a carved coat of arms of the family Seirath, the requisite serpent, complete with inset emerald eyes, twining about a sword. Arched double doors open out to the northeast and north, with a small passage between them leading down to the cellar. A delicate cabinet in the corner displays a collection of trophies and trinkets.

Toz gives you a peck on the cheek.

You raise your hand in greeting to Toz and say "Hi!"

Toz reaches out for your hand, linking his fingers with yours in a tender expression of affection.

Deciding he might be quite comfy, you lean softly upon Toz.

Quietly, you say, "I'm sorry."

Toz sees: Again. There is a faint fear still in the link, but it's mingled with a distracted, content sort of love.

Just as quietly, Toz says to you, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

You have emoted: Moirean gives your hand a squeeze. "I don't want you upset - not with me," she explains. "So if I make you upset, I am sorry, and you can't make me UNSORRY, silly."

You give Toz a peck on the cheek.

You say, "I was thinking of opening up the older parts of the tower."

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

You have emoted: Moirean gestures vaguely towards the southeast. "There's a formal dining room there," she explains. "Father hosted gatherings there, when he sat on the council. Fancy things."

Toz asks you, "Do you need help with opening it up?"

You have emoted: Moirean wrinkles her nose and frowns at you. "With your hammer?" she giggles, and then her tone grows a bit more serious. "I suppose you should, eh? I'm...I'm like father now. Fancy and formal and boring." 

Toz reaches over and slips an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. "Not boring," he returns a touch stubbornly, glancing southeastward, "A formal dining hall would prove useful though, I think."

Thoughtfully, you say, "I was considering inviting the scientists over for a meal. Or maybe all of the Tainted."

Toz says to you, "That would be good, I think. Both of those ideas would be."

You have emoted: Moirean stands on her tip-toes and flutters her wings to rise high enough to give you a kiss on the cheek. "Try not to break anything," she cautions. "I boarded it all up after-" She stops, glancing back towards the wall. She shakes her head, slipping out of your arm and approaches it. A tapestry hangs there, covering the stone from floor to ceiling, stretching all the way to the vaulted roof of the landing above - and she strides right up to it, tilting her head back to study the hanging. Immense and elegant, the piece is clearly an heirloom, woven to depict some event out of her family's history. A thread-made man gives a lecture to a silken audience, and the Imp stands there, small and diminutive at the edge of the fabric crowd, her body nearly lost in the tall tapestry's figures.

You have emoted: "...After he was murdered..." Moirean concludes, her eyes fixed on the man depicted in the hanging.

Toz frowns faintly, moving to rest a hand on your shoulder for a moment. "Sorry for your loss. Life...and even unlife, is rarely anything other than brutal." He steps away after that, plucking a hammer of forging from his belt. "Would you like to take it down first?" he asks of you as he reaches the tapestry, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You have emoted: Moirean's hand shifts, lightly resting on yours for a moment. She squeezes it, apparently more for reassurance for herself than anything. "Yes, I'd like to keep this," she muses. "I like remembering him this way - strong, vibrant, alive. Zaryni? Zalli? The Djeiran lady, she made it, before he embraced Undeath." She frowns, looking away, and mumbles, "Too heavy for me."

Toz nods once and slides his hammer back away once more. "Then let us see if I still recall how to do this," he murmurs, stepping towards the wall near the tapestry. He bends his powerful legs once and pushes upwards, leaping into the air. As he does, his body contorts and twists, turning lithe beneath his armor. He grabs, and nearly misses, but manages to latch onto the wall with his claws. Pausing for a moment to collect his balance, he scrabbles up the wall with almost spider-like dexterity, his claws sinking into the small gaps between each of the stones to facilitate his climb.

You have emoted: Moirean tilts her head backwards, eyes widening as she watches you climb. "There is a staircase," she mumbles, but her comment is very quiet. She seems rather transfixed, watching you shift and move. After a moment, as you near the top of the hall's wall, she coughs and raises her voice to call out, "There's a pole. Just unhook it!" More softly, she adds, "...I think." She frowns, trying to remember.

Toz glances down towards you. "...I used to climb a cliff higher than this. and I can fly - this way is faster," he offers. He moves and hooks his claws around the pole supporting the tapestry and nods, tugging it upwards to remove it from the supports. "Stand back," he suggests and then, with a small, smug smile, he lets go of the wall and expands his wings, gliding downward at a steep angle before flaring upwards, effectively spreading the tapestry over the floor - and potentially you, if you didn't move sharpish.

You have emoted: Moirean scurries out of the way, darting back underneath the spiral staircase's sweeping arc. She watches the tapestry fall to the ground, a mix of relief and concern on her features as her father's visage is muddled and obscured by folds of fabric.

Toz turns and straightens, still preening a little bit at his success. "We can fold this and place it into storage, or hang it elsewhere?" he suggests, tilting his head at you. He carefully keeps his talons away from the fabric.

You have emoted: Moirean purses her lips and considers the fallen hanging for a span. She edges around it to one end of the hall and begins to roll it up, folding one end over the other into a lumpy bundle. She pauses often, coughing and sneezing as the movements raise up clouds of dust from years - decades, centuries? - of untouched treatment. "I'll find a place-" A violent sneeze interrupts her eventual reply. "A PLACE! For it!"

You have emoted: Moirean wipes her nose and blinks back a few tears, eyes agitated from the dust.

Toz nods and steps back, leaving you to fold the tapestry. "I will avoid tearing it," he says quietly to you, glancing towards his sharp claws with a wry smirk.

You have emoted: Moirean quietly grunts in thanks, doing her best to finish folding the immense hanging. Finally, she steps back, eyes and nose runny, and surveys her work - it's fairly horrid, with bumps and lumps and only the semblance of a column of fabric. But, at least it's somewhat out of the way.

Toz smiles faintly at you and moves to wipe at you runny nose with a small rag, holding the thing delicately as he can within his claws. "Good. So that is done...what next?"

You have emoted: Moirean sniffles and gratefully accepts the rag, lifting an arm to point at the section of wall revealed by the hanging. A wide archway is there, the same size and shape as the other doorways in the entry hall, although a rusty red layer of bricks fills in the space where a door would be. "It's behind there," she explains. A flash of guilt twists towards you through the link, and you can sense a quiet shame, see a fleeting image of a stern, cold Rajamalan man, hear a distant, barked scold for silence and then a thrill of nervous excitement pushes out these bubbling emotions, coursing strong from Moirean. She edges a bit closer, lightly laying a hand over the mortared blockade.

Toz tugs his hammer free once more, "Then I will remove the bricks," he says simply. "Is there anything you do not want broken behind it?" he asks of you as he readies the weapon, rolling his shoulders in preparation for a strike.

You have emoted: Moirean's brow furrows. "I...I don't remember," she admits. She looks faintly annoyed and saddened by the admission.

Toz nods slightly and taps his hammer against a brick. It cracks, beginning to crumble, and he repeats the strike a few more times until a single brick has been chipped away. Though his form is solid, the faint glow of a hammer of forging gives him away, the item's forging properties brought against the wall for a precise, strong hit.

You have emoted: Moirean watches you tensely, her hands tightly gripping the fabric of her trousers. "Careful!" she insists, unnecessarily, as she shifts her weight as she uneasily watches you work. Apprehension mingles with her excitement, and it's almost as if she is expecting something grotesque and monstrous to pop out from behind the wall.

Toz gestures to the hole in wall, "Look through and see what is behind it? Your eyes are better than mine." He steps back to give you room to do just that.

You have emoted: Moirean tip-toes forwards and approaches the gaping black opening. She gulps and then pauses, frowning. "Can't reach," she whines, turning to look back at you with an expectant stare. One foot taps the tiled floor.

Toz drops to a knee. Lacing his hands together, he nods towards them, "I will give you a boost, then," he says. "Even in this form, you should be easy enough to lift."

You have emoted: Moirean happily climbs over you and uses the elevation to peer into the cracked stonework. Her heatlit eyes pierce the darkness easily and there is a sudden gasp - and then all you hear is silence, broken by soft clatters of broken brick tumbling to the tiles.

Toz peers up at you. "What?" he demands to know at the gasp, craning his head a little. "What is it?"

You have emoted: Your question breaks Moirean's reverie and she pulls her head back, rubbing absently and uselessly at the ring of dust now circling her face. She slowly climbs downwards from your boost. Her expression is pensive and she keeps glancing towards the hole in the rocks every few moments. "It's...it's..." She seems unable to find the right words, and settles for a helpless shrug. She doesn't seem UPSET, but nor does she seem excited anymore. There is, instead, a sharp glint to her stare and a pensive set to her features, as if something she has seen in there has started some inward thought process in motion.

Toz stands back up again, tilting his head at you. "It's what?" he prompts, glancing towards the hole himself. "Should I continue knocking the wall down, or leave it?" He frowns, turning in an attempt to impatiently peer through the hole, his hammer hanging from his hand loosely.

You have emoted: After a moment, Moirean coughs and clarifies, "It's safe to continue, slowly. There is furniture, still, and a china hutch a few paces to the right, near the exit to...uhh, I think that's where the kitchens are? It's a fairly big chamber, though, and there is little near the door."

Toz nods, relaxed a bit. He turns, warning, "You should likely stand back." That said, he draws back his hammer in preparation for a strike.

You have emoted: Moirean obediently steps back, arms folding in closer to her chest. She watches you proceed, still pensive and silent.

Toz sees: The emotions through the link have quieted into a rare stillness, and only absent thoughts - memories? - float in melting shreds of image and sound. A group of mages at a long table. A fireplace crackling. Voices echoing. Candles everywhere. An impossibly beautiful woman's body, radiant in death, laid out. Lilies, white, white lilies. Soup.

Toz seems to shrug aside the things coming from the link for the time being, focusing instead on his hammer and the wall. In a series of rapid strikes, he begins to hit the wall again and again in a line, tearing across horizontally. Each brick his hammer touches crumbles to dust, leaving the wall more and more unstable and kicking up a sizable cloud of dust.

You have emoted: Moirean sneezes again and holds the rag over her nose, eyes narrowed against the flying dust. She lets out a soft squeak as a chunk of brick tumbles to the ground, bouncing against the tile to veer towards her. Instead of focusing on dodging the skittering stone, her gaze immediately shifts to the marble flagstones - apparently she is more concerned about damage to the estate than to her own body, although (for now) both appear to survive without mishap. The stone narrowly misses her and tumbles across the entry hall in a loud series of clacks, the noise bounced back by the arched ceiling in a jittering echo.

Toz finishes his rapid-fire destruction of the particular line of bricks, by leaving a single one in the middle to support the better top half of the wall. He turns so his back rests against the stone, and lightly swings his hammer around to tap behind him, the gesture almost casual. Instead of disappearing like the other bricks, the front half powders instantly and the back half remains in one piece, the weight of the wall settling down onto his back as the brick gives way and the wall tilts forward.

You have emoted: Moirean winces in sympathetic pain (although whether it's for Toz or for the tile is debatable) and reflexively lifts her arms as if to remotely, somehow, help you support the stones. "Careful!" she urges, her attention focused almost TOO much on you, her eyes studiously avoiding staring at the now exposed entry, the room revealed with the collapse.

Toz groans slightly under the weight, but rightens himself. "I am fine," he manages. He side-steps awkwardly a few times, then carefully drops into something of a squat before letting the bricks down, resting them back against the wall. As he rightens himself, his back pops audibly and he winces for a moment.

You have emoted: Moirean watches as you shift the stone, her gaze trailing after you. Now that the chamber is opened, she seems reluctant to approach it, and instead makes a show of worrying over you. "Are you all right?" she asks. "Do you need to rest? We can head to the study to relax for a bit. We don't need to deal with this now." Her words tumble out quicker, breathless, with no room for even a reply. "You should rest. Let's get you upstairs. That was enough for now-"

Toz slides his hammer away, nodding to you. "I am fine," he says to you. "If you want to stop, we can. I do not want to upset you by forcing you to continue." He moves to rest a hand on you arm, "There is also a lesser we could go fight at, if you want."

You have emoted: Curiosity killed the Imp - an adage you are strikingly reminded of as Moirean's gaze stubbornly, eventually, rebellious of even her own desires lifts past you to linger on the archway. Unthinking, she takes a step towards the chamber.

Toz turns and gestures towards the now-opened room, only a waist-high barricade of bricks preventing entry. "After you, then," he murmurs to you as his gaze lingers on your face, seeming unable to keep a faint smile from his lips.

You have emoted: Moirean frowns back at you, but there is a determined set to her jaw, now. She squares her shoulders, exhales sharply and scrambles over the stones, vanishing into the dark, yawning doorway.

Formal dining chambers.

Dust cloaks everything in this chamber, accented by silky spiderwebs, untamed and rampantly given free reign over two centuries to spin outwards to shroud the entire room in a fantastic network of fine, sticky strands. Nearly as spacious as the tower's ballroom, the chamber is large enough to host a banquet, with a long table spanning the center of the room, topped with tall silver candelabras and elegantly-wrought vases of petrified flowers. A cold, silent fireplace dominates the northern wall, its mantle topped with a dusky portrait of stern-looking figures engaged in somber discussion, while mahogany hutches, cupboards and endtables stand flush against the stonework in stark, refined accent pieces. Tapestries add a heavy gloom to the chamber, hung in regular intervals in dark, menacing adornments, with a set towards the west obviously intended to conceal doors to the kitchens. Adding only a single hint of respite from the chamber's severe decoration, a floor-to-ceiling paned-glass window overlooks the wild garden outside the tower, with vines writhing upwards to blot out light from beyond - every now and then, faint taps and scratches can be heard as the plants idly go about their business of being animated, carnivorous plants.

Toz follows in after you, halting as you does upon entry to the room. An arm wrapping around you waist, he asks you, "What are you thinking?"

You have emoted: Moirean nearly stumbles as she crawls over the bricks, halting at the very entrance of the chamber. It recedes away from her into darkness, its furniture black lumps in a blacker chamber like some sort of slumbering beasts in a cave, with only the distant window's faint filter of light through the vines breaking the bleak shadows. She presses closer to you, both hands holding tight to your arms. The steel one is cold against your skin. She swallows.

Hoarsely, you say, "It...it needs cleaning."

Toz nods to you. "We could set the recruits to doing it," he suggests, nose wrinkling. "I am not one for house cleaning." He glances down to you, expression softening again as he grudgingly admits, "Though if you need me to..."

You have emoted: Moirean's gaze is a bit sightless as she stares slowly around the room, furniture and paintings and tapestries all swept over as she merely takes in the entire chamber in a slow scan. "No," she murmurs. "I will find someone..." Her words fade into silence as she slowly steps away from you to approach the table. There is a faint, metallic click - her hand on the wood - and a whisper. "They laid her out here. When she died. He. He. He did not let them move her, forever after."

Toz lingers back by the doorway as you steps away, calmly watching you as you moves to the table. "Your mother?" he asks you curiously, eyes flicking to peer towards the dusty table, then back to your face.

You have emoted: Moirean's voice is completely calm, as if discussing guard assignments or a ministry appointment. "Yes. When she died. At my birth. He used stasis charms, wards of some sort," she continues, slowly striding up the table's length. There's a slow metallic slide, as her arm traces the contours of the wood, trailing behind her. "It was a long time ago. But she was...Dead, she was dead. It was not like what I managed with the boy. They only slowed it."

You have emoted: Moirean pauses midway down the table, her body last in shadows. Only her heatlit eyes mark her presence in the room, and then those circles of luminous amber vanish as she shuts them. She is silent, but the link betrays her, revealing a rush of memories, unwillingly shared with you as she stands there in the dark.

Toz moves after a time to step towards you. "I remember meeting her, once," he says to you. "Or at the time, you told me it was her." He reaches out and lays a hand on you shoulder, trying to tug you closer to him for a reassuring hug, his form perhaps jarringly wiry to accommodate his current shape.

You have emoted: "Yes," Moirean quietly replies as she presses into your embrace. The memories are relentless, twined with a desperate, sudden panic as she tries to hold them back: A woman, here, in some version of this same room, her face too beautiful to be true, and then a slow, continual withering, her features melting into rot and ruin as morning, noon and night pass. Candles always burning, only harshening the contrast between bone and fading flesh. A man, decaying away, always here, always hunched. Parchments spreading, a time-lapse of the table itself vanishing beneath the papers, stack by stack as time speeds onwards, headlong. And now the entire table is covered in sheafs, candles, flowers, always fresh flowers, and in the center, the woman slowly putrefying as days, months and years fly past the window. A lurch, as Moirean manages some control, but perhaps this is worse - things halt, and now there is just a little Rajamala girl, timid and grey, tentatively taking dinner, seated as far away as she can be, while still sitting at the table. She eats, slowly, subdued, spooning in soup as she sups her meal beside her "mother." Absolute silence, save for the clank of silver against china. This memory stretches on, painfully long.

Toz nods to you. Soothingly quiet, he returns, "It is okay." In an attempt to calm you further perhaps, a string of consciousness returns through the link after a moment of quiet acceptance of the visions you has shown him: From Toz's end, a warm campfire at your front while cold wind cuts through the heavy cloak upon your back. Then a crisp morning, the world frozen over and spread before you as you stand atop a cliff, looking down into a valley, a heavy wooden club in your hand, the surface smooth from years of use.

You have emoted: Moirean's flood of memories is stemmed, swallowed by your own contributions. The panic ebbs away, soothed into a calm by the image. The little gray Rajamala, sad and quiet and alone, remains, displaced onto the clifftop. Her eyes brighten to a heatlit glow, sparkling as she grasps a club and happily rises onto her toes, peering daringly over the edge of the cliff. An ethereal overlay - just a hint - of batlike wings rises behind her and her gray little tail seems, for a moment, to be topped with a spade-like point. In your arms, you can feel a slow release of tension as Moirean leans against you, her hands finding your own.

Toz squeezes reassuringly at your hands. "We all have our good memories, and our bad ones." He leans down, placing a small kiss at the top of your hair, "Can we make good memories here, to replace the bad?" he wonders, considering you for a moment before releasing one of you hands, his arm slipping around your waist. He curls his tail around, moving it to find your. Tugging on you tail in an attempt to further distract you from you memories, he asks, "Would you like to have the guild here first, or the scientists?"

You have emoted: Moirean blinks her eyes open, and the image fades away, dissolving into only a misty impression of lingering hope, tenuous but tangible through the link. "You pick," she replies, one hand lifting to brush away a clot of spiderwebs choking one of the vases on the table. At the touch, the preserved flowers shift, crumbling into dusty clumps.

Toz nods to you, "The scientists, then," he says quietly. "We should thank them properly for seeing to you while you were sick." He loosens his grip on you, letting you turn back towards the table, his own gaze wandering around the room.

You have emoted: Moirean's other hand gives yours a reassuring squeeze. "Were sick," she emphatically echoes. There's a frown to her tone, but her features remain cloaked in the chamber's pressing darkness. "I wonder if the kitchen's oven still works..."

Toz shrugs his shoulders at you, "I don't know much about ovens. Or cooking. I can feed a forge, and craft things that way, but little else."

You have emoted: Moirean steps away from the table, her footsteps echoing through the large chamber as she walks unerringly through the darkness towards one of the far walls. "Help me?" she asks. You can hear fabric rustling as she tugs at one of the tapestries, trying to shift it aside. "There's an entrance, here," she mutters in the darkness. "I know it. I wasn't really allowed in, but...I know it's here, somewhere."

Toz moves to assist you in finding the entrance, tugging up on the fabric as well, carefully avoiding snagging it with his claws, or trying as best he can. "What are we looking for specifically?" he asks of you.

You have emoted: Moirean lets out a sudden squeak of delight as your movements shift the tapestry aside to reveal a small set of steps, descending downwards to a recessed wooden door. "This!" she exclaims, shoving her shoulder against it as she coaxes the latch to lift in a protesting creak of rusty, unused hinges. She grunts, wood whines, and the door budges a fraction.

Toz forms a fist and reaches over your head. He shifts the tapestry to rest over his shoulder, snags your collar with his other hand, and gives the door a sturdy, solid punch in an attempt to knock it open further.

You have emoted: Moirean yelps as she's pulled backwards but doesn't protest as your stronger efforts are set to work against the reluctant door.

You have emoted: Moirean swings one fist through the air and offers eager encouragement. "Push it! Bash it! Kick it in!" She's clearly not the most versed in door-opening.

Toz continues to steadily pound away at the door with his fist. Though he does not seem to currently possess the strength that has dented armor, he manages a respectable strike nonetheless, fist thudding heavily into the door time and time again in an effort to not-so-subtly request it open.

Finally, the door obliges, sliding inch by inch until it reaches a watershed point - your final blow sends it rattling fully open. A musty, stale smell rushes towards you from the room beyond, while a flood of dusty light pours in from high-set windows all around the spacious chamber.

Toz opens his hand, knuckles cracking. He examines his hand for a moment before he releases your scruff and nods. "The door is open," he reports dutifully.

You have emoted: Moirean wriggles out of your grasp and darts down the stairs. Her voice echoes back up at you, bouncing off the terracotta tile floors and echoing metallically across the cast-iron pieces hanging, abandoned and pristine, even after all these years. "The kitchens!"

Large kitchens. (neighborhoods of Spinesreach.)

Large and sunny, these kitchens were clearly once the bustling heartbeat of a large estate. An immense trio of ovens take up one wall, while stove-tops fill another side of the room. A large wooden table serves as an island in the center of the chamber, creating a handy space for chopping, dicing, peeling, hacking, sampling and shooing - all the necessary facets of meal preparation. Cutlery, pots, pans, and tools hang from brackets overhead, while heavy shelves and cabinets store a dizzying array of dishes and serving implements. High-set windows allow light to pour in and warmly illuminate a simple, terracotta tile floor and pristine whitewashed walls. Bundles of dried herbs, preserved for who knows how long, complete the welcoming, simple room, strung in bunches over the stove, next to the table and beside the ovens for easy access during cooking.

Toz plods after you, nodding. "So it is," he says to you. "Do you think it is still serviceable?"

You have emoted: Moirean plants her hands on her hips and scans the room with an assessing eye. "Hmm," she grunts uncertainly and then paces over to one of the ovens. She pulls down the door of the large device - its mouth nearly large enough to swallow her whole - and lets out a pleased squeak as it opens with surprising ease, apparently still well-oiled despite the years of neglect.

Toz steps up behind you, quietly as he can manage, and attempts to nudge you lightly towards the mouth of the large oven, "We could see if it works right now," he suggests in a level tone, though a faint trickle of amusement through the link indicates his jest.

You have emoted: Moirean squawks and splays her arms against the brickwork as she twists around, legs kicking at the air in front of you. "You do NOT want to try roast Imp. Bad Toz," she sternly scolds as she fixes you with a sharp stare. Her tone is laughably appropriate for the surroundings - if only she had a wooden spoon in hand, she'd be the spitting image of a cook catching someone sneaking a taste of a dish being baked - and there is a subtle sort of confidence behind her words. Perhaps it's leaving the dining hall, or perhaps it's the kitchens themselves, but she's more comfortable, and seems absolutely certain that she will brook no challenge to her authority here.

You have emoted: Moirean firmly shoves the Hat of the Iron Epicurean down atop her head and raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to question her.

Toz holds both hands up in mock-surrender to your demands. "It would likely be too stringy anyway," he agrees. "Not enough fat, and far too much trouble." He thrusts a hand out towards your, holding it out in the air while he waits for you to take it, "I will not argue with you in the kitchen, certainly...I am more at home in front of a forge or a camp fire."

You have emoted: Moirean takes your hand with a regal nod, although there is a faintly skeptical glint to her stare. She elects to let the trouble comment slide and instead merely gives your hand a squeeze. Her other arm lifts to adjust the hat atop her head, doing her best to keep it from sliding down to cover her face. "The scientists, then," she states, standing back to study the ovens. She clicks her teeth and tilts her head back, hand squashing the hat down to prevent it from falling off, as she takes in their full size.

Toz slips up behind you again, this time wrapping his arms around you waist. "The scientists," he echoes. "Do you know what they like to eat?" he wonders, turning his head to nip at your ear gently. Despite his words, it is fairly clear that the meal is the last thing on his mind.

---- Stuff that isn't forums appropriate! ---

You have emoted: Moirean firmly snuggles up close to you, lightly kissing your brow. One hand brushes back your hair and she lets out a content, happy sigh. "I love you," she says simply. "You don't even know - can't know - how much I love you." She kisses your temple again. Her emotions through the link are no less helpful - muddled and hazy, all you can sense is a deep mix of trust and happy, fierce possession.

Toz slips both arms possessively around you. "Good. I am glad it is mutual," he states firmly, kissing you jaw, then cheek, then neck in a virtual shower of affection. "I also promise to keep stealing you away when I get the chance. Part of my job as your partner, isn't it?"

You have emoted: Moirean giggles as you rain her in kisses and nods emphatically. "You do your job well," she agrees, nestling in closer and resting her head on your shoulder.

Toz nods slightly to you, "I try to do my job as best I can, Commander," he returns, giving you a small squeeze.

You have emoted: After a moment of comfortable silence, Moirean's eyes flick towards the door leading upstairs. "You know," she states. "When Luna, ages ago now, when she asked me about why I wanted to join the Carnifex..." She frowns, her gaze shifting back to you. "You remember, right?"

Toz shakes his head slightly at you, "The answer to that question, I do not recall," he returns to you. "What was your answer?"

You have emoted: Moirean pulls herself closer to you. Her hair tickles your nose and her long ears flop against your face, unheeding of any discomfort or mouthful of Impishness you might suffer. Instead, she is pensive, remembering that day, long ago, with what remained of her mother. "The souls, the control," she murmurs. "I thought, if I became Carnifex, I could learn a way to help her. Free her?"

Toz nudges at you lightly. "That's right. I do remember," he murmurs to you. "I think we could possibly help her," he adds after a time. "With what we have learned? We can." He mumbles this into your hair, not seeming to care about the tickle at his nose, his form shifting a bit against your as he squirms in a little closer.

You have emoted: Moirean quietly asks, "There's nothing we can't do, right?" There is uncertainty in her words, but also a thread of hope. "That's what you always say, right? There's nothing the two of us can't do."

Toz nods to you, "That I firmly believe," he returns to you. "Without hesitation, without worry - we can do anything we set our minds to." His tone is simple, and the calm confidence that waves through the link is without any trace of doubt.

You have emoted: Moirean's voice is barely a whisper, and there's a brief, fleeting mental overlay of that small, subdued little Rajamala girl, the image silently transposed over the woman in your arms, as she murmurs, "I want her at peace."

Toz nods to you, once. "Then we will lay her to rest," he whispers. "We have the power to do anything. We could take her soul and bring her to the Keep. We could set her free to do as she wishes. Or we could send her away to her rest." Here he pauses, then he suggests gently, "Or perhaps we could ask her what she wants?"

You have emoted: Moirean's fingers dig into your arm, the metal hand flashing hot against your skin. A return of the earlier panic. "She hates me," she meekly protests - but she does not argue against your suggestion.

Toz frowns a bit, "Then I will speak to her," he returns. "If you are set on helping her, despite her hatred? I will do what I can to assist. I promise."

You have emoted: Moirean's hair shifts against your skin as she nods in automatic, unthinking agreement. "WE will," she corrects, her voice weak but trusting. Traces of the panic remain in her tone, and the fear clearly is not fully squelched, but it seems her faith in you is pushing it back enough for her usual stubbornness to get a grasp. "We'll...fix it. Fix her. This house has been ruled by memories and ghosts for far too long. It's time for the living to take command."

Toz's nose wrinkles. Though there is not an outburst of fury, a faint bit of disgruntled sinks through the link as he mutters, "In a manner of speaking..."

You have emoted: Moirean tilts her head up to meet your eyes. "Oh," she softly replies, immediately apologetic. "That's not what I meant...I didn't-" She bites her lip, flushing at her verbal misstep.

Toz leans down and bumps his nose against your. "It is fine," he returns firmly. "It...well. I know what you mean, at least."

You have emoted: Moirean wistfully sighs and bites harder on her lip as she squeezes her eyes shut. It's clear she is holding back her words and doing her best to tap down on the link. Unexpectedly, all that filters through is a fleeting image of another man - vaguely acquatic features? Benedicto? No, far younger, barely a boy - but it's a hazy, confusing image, one which fades before you can even focus on it.

Toz's brow furrows a bit and he leans forward, nuzzling at you. "Is something wrong?" he asks quietly, giving you a small squeeze. Raising a hand to your cheek, he lightly strokes it, "There isn't anything you need to hide from me, you know," he murmurs softly to you.

You have emoted: Moirean shakes her head, biting down even harder on her lips. She winces, as the sharp chewing nearly breaks the skin, and lightly licks the bruised flesh. "You'll get mad," she whispers, looking away.

Toz's shoulders shrug, "Then allow me to be angry, if I decide to be," he murmurs to you. "I dislike secrets. Surprises are pleasant, secrets..." He shakes his head and leans down to kiss your lips lightly, adding on a very soft, "Please?"

You have emoted: Moirean gently returns the kiss, her touch mingled with a sigh. "I..." She falters, swallows and tries again. Her words come with reluctant effort, almost pained as she forces them out. "There are ghosts here. I want life and laughter and love. I want this to stop being some cold monument to what my family was - I want it to celebrate their future. I want-" She shifts her weight, pulling herself closer to you, burying her face in your neck as she finishes in an almost unheard whisper, "...what I want, you and I can't have, Toz."

Painfully softly, you say, "Undead can't father children. And you are all I ever want, from here until forever. So, that is that." Her tone strengthens a bit, and she attempts a note of humor. "I shall just have to make myself content with hosting lots of parties. I have a dining room now, afterall."

Toz nips lightly at your lips before he lets you shift to nestle into his neck. "Trust me," he whispers softly to you. Instead of anger, or calm, a wisp of regret and guilt slinks through the link, and he tugs you close into a tight hug. "Let's focus on the dinner party..." Attempting to change the subject further, he pairs it with a nip to your ear, "I mean actual cooking too, this time."

You have emoted: Moirean lets herself be crushed by the tight hug, and she merely nods. "I'll get some recruits to clean the place up," she replies. "And draw up a menu, and pen invitations. Do you want anything in particular at the meal?" A faint smile reaches her lips. "Soup?"

Toz nods to you, kissing you cheek. "Soup," he returns with a small smile. "That sounds very good." He slowly relaxes the grip he has on you, holding you out at arm's length to study you. "...I love you, you know."

You have emoted: Moirean gives you a lop-sided, tentative grin. "I know," she replies, her voice firm. "And I love you."

Toz nods to you and steps back again. "I hate to leave you, but..." He frowns as he trails off, keeping one hand on you shoulder. "I need to rest. I will see you soon, though. I promise."

You nod your head at Toz.

Wryly, you say, "I should have the place cleaned by then. Or...at least made a dent in two centuries worth of neglect."

Nodding to her, Toz says to you, "Best of luck to you, then. I will see you soon."

You give Toz a peck on the cheek.

Toz gives you a peck on the cheek.

Toz is enveloped in translucent fire for a moment and is gone, his soul safe until he returns to Aetolia.