Catharsis

Seir

Background: For those that don't know, Seir was made shortly after the Aalen got bombed with a poisonous bomb known as the Bloom, which resulted in mutations and other various deformities. Many died, but Seir survived via some less savoury methods. Years later to present day, Seir was dying again of the Bloom, his status as an Azudim no longer sufficient in keeping it in remission. After reverting to a Tekal and sending out letters to those he cared about just in case he were to die for good, Seir pursued a very risky Sacrament that ultimately cured his Bloom for good and allowed him to reach "perfect mortality" by his own will, causing him to become an Idreth, albeit with some drawbacks like his wooden arm and other things. Since coming back, Seir has been very jovial, almost too much so, and he nods off while kicking back and skywatching in Duiran.

Note: Italicized portions are thoughts of Seir using the THINK command.

--

You suddenly feel weary and tired.

Your exhausted mind can stay awake no longer, and you fall into a deep sleep.

An unusually vivid dream swirls through your sleeping mind, and you have the distinct impression of movement.

Within a crowded town square.
Her age showing in her laugh lines and wrinkles, an old Tsol'aa woman sits on a bench here.
There are no obvious exits.

You open your eyes and stretch languidly, feeling deliciously well-rested.

An old Tsol'aa woman lightly taps her cane upon the ground, her head bobbing and lightly weaving in response to a lilting melody she hums to herself.

Brilliant eyes an emerald in hue peer out from this Tsol'aa woman's face, which bears wrinkles and laugh lines that display not only her age, but a hidden wisdom, from sight. Her limbs look frail and weak, though this certainly doesn't seem to wipe the ever-present smile from her face that she seems set on wearing. The clothing she wears is ultimately hidden by a cloak that's easily twice the size it needs to be to properly fit her form.
An old Tsol'aa woman looks to be crushingly strong.

A cloaked figure rises to his feet, groggily staring about himself. A moment passes and the Idreth lurches forward slightly, peering this way and that. Realization seems to creep across his features and he turns to face the old Tsol'aa woman.

You deftly lower the hood of a cloak of obscurity, revealing your identity.

Not quite looking directly at you, an old Tsol'aa woman says, "You sound as if you've been asleep. What an interesting place to choose for that."

You have no idea where you are.
Your environment conforms to that of Urban.
You are in a lucid dream.

Passerby march right by you, none of them seeming to pay you even the slightest mind. Just before you rise they step around you, each preoccupied with whatever destination it is they seem to have in their minds. As you rise, they simply pay you no mind.

"Was I?" Seir asks, raising his wooden hand to clutch at his head. He seems off-balance for a reprieve, but eventually collects his bearings. "I feel as if I dreaming now. This sensation, this feeling... it is not foreign to me." Seir grunts, taking a few steps closer towards the old Tsol'aa woman, ignorant of the passersby. "Who are you?" he curtly asks.

An old Tsol'aa woman releases a light chuckle as she continues to tap her cane upon the cobblestone path in a steady rhythm. "You sounded like you were dreaming, right there earlier, you were twitching and groaning," she notes, a sliver of amusement lingering amidst her tone. "I am awake though, and now you are too, so I cannot say your prediction is apt." She takes in a deep breath, then releases it slowly, happily. Her head cranes upward to gaze upon the clouds, though there's something in her eyes; the typical flicking of them that'd indicate actual focus upon surrounding objects is entirely absent. "I am nobody, or so it seems," she casually states, the rapidly-moving passerby around both you and her if anything a testament to this fact.

Seir clutches at his head again, as if it were hurting or his senses were possibly eluding him. With a quick exhale, Seir opens his eyes once more to find his reality the same as before. Fixating upon the old Tsol'aa woman once more, the Idreth hesitantly takes a few steps forward and, albeit reluctantly, joins her on the bench. "So I was dreaming, but now I am not, but where I am is nowhere, and you are nobody?" he asks, skepticism ruling his features. "Do I have that about right?"

"Now you've got it," an old Tsol'aa woman states with a triumphant, almost pleased tap of her cane against the stone bench. She leans the cane up against it so that it remains upright, then swivels her posture ever-so-slightly to regard you face on. "And who are you?" she asks. She raises a wrinkled hand, one that maintains an ever-present tremble to it, just before your face as if to touch. "May I?" she asks, though the question is rendered almost entirely redundant as she reaches forward nevertheless to lightly grace her fingertips over your face from forehead to the tip of your chin.

Seir gives a reflexive lurch away from the old Tsol'aa's touch, but ultimately
concedes. His eyes dart to and fro, looking as if he were cornered prey trying to a find a means of escape. He seems focused for a reprieve, though it fades and is replaced by brief astonishment. "Hnh," he mumbles. "What do you want?" he asks defensively, narrowing his eyes.

I cannot exert my will here. Not even in my arm. This place. This IS a dream. It has to be, but...

Does this woman lie? Why would she lie? Though the boundaries of this world make no sense.

Escape? No. Escape is not possible. This woman, whoever she is... I must comply for now, it seems.

An old Tsol'aa woman's lips crack into a brief smile as she drops her hand. "Some of us have been forced to see with other means besides our eyes," she almost wryly informs. "You take advantage of these things sometimes; you assume things around you are stable, consistent, that you'll have them forever. It's when you're missing them that you finally appreciate them fully," she notes, wisdom and experience heavily lingering upon the words she speaks. She takes her cane once more and cradles it within her clasped hands, returning to its light tapping upon the ground. Were she truly a threat, she's certainly damn good at hiding it.

Contemplatively, an old Tsol'aa woman says, "But I do not tell you anything you do not know. You've lost, and then appreciated."

Seir lowers his guard slightly, leaning forward but still facing the woman. "With other means?" he asks. "Do you speak of the mi--" Seir pauses, as if realizing that this question is the wrong one. He turns silent for a moment, studying the woman intently. "I believe I understand what you're saying now."

Nodding, you say, "Aye. I've lost much, as all my people have. I have gained enough that would
warrant envy in those still alive. Still..."

There are things that I still do not have. A home still eludes me, but... does she know this? Is this woman capable of knowing my thoughts? How does she know me?

"But you haven't always appreciated," an old Tsol'aa woman notes with a knowing tap of her cane. Her lips purse, and she levels a murmurous "Mmm" from her lips as she ponders the concept. "Your face is hardened," she adds. "You've retreated when you should have stepped ahead. Grown angry when you should have been contemplative. Mourned when you should have celebrated," she speculates with an odd gesture of her hand as she speaks each phrase. "Why?" is her simple, quizzical question she poses forth to you as she turns her sightless gaze your way once more.

Seir contemplates the question for a moment, looking away from the woman. He eyes the rest of the square, errantly casting his attentions to the random elements that fill the crowded area. "I have not always appreciated," he admits, still looking away. "When I was young, I had everything I could've asked for as a survivor of the Aalen. I had a home, I had the love of my life, a son, power..." Sighing, he looks back over to the woman. "In my anger, hubris, and desire for vengeance... I retreated into myself, and pushed all of those things away. To be honest? I don't think I can truly tell you why I did what I did."

Continuing, you say, "Only that I still regret it after all of these years."

And just like that, an old Tsol'aa woman's dismissed status as a threat evidently fades as she raps you once, right in the shin with that cane of hers. Though it's certainly no immense pain, the woman undoubtedly carries just a touch more strength than her frail form would insinuate. She sternly shakes her head at you. "Stop that," she commands, the words escaping her lips with the authority of a mother scolding a child of hers. "What good does regret do you? Why cling to it? Why linger?" she asks, each question posed in a rapid sort of succession.

Maybe I do, and I just refuse to see it. I cling to old memories and the few joys that they did bring. Perhaps... I cannot change what has happened, but is it selfish to want the joys that I once had before but without any of the bad?

Seir withdraws his leg slightly, inching away from the woman. There was no pain, true, but something disturbed the Idreth about it all the same. It takes a small moment for Seir to relax again, his muscles slacken and he returns to his previous posture. "It doesn't do me any good at all," he says, his tone suggesting that he knows this and knows the lesson truly. However, something still causes the Idreth to ignore the lesson all the same. "I'm reminded of my mistakes when I see my son and how I wasn't there for him for most of his life. I see my former mate and her reluctance and wariness around me... I've hurt many who I once thought I loved, but I emotionally used them and tossed them aside." He shakes his head furiously, as if trying to remove these things from his head.

Grunting, you say, "That is why I live in regret. I must see my failures every day."

An old Tsol'aa woman waves away your statements, not only with a dismissive gesture of a hand, but with a rolling of her eyes as well. "When you gain the ability to travel back in time, find me," she states with a grunt. "Then, and only then, will this posturing of yours be of any use to you." She begins again humming that song of hers that she hummed when you awoke, her attention for the moment caught up entirely by this pleasant tune. She lifts her legs, one at a time, stretching them with a quick pat down of a hand as if to massage away soreness that lingers therein. "With failure at the forefront of your mind, it's bound to manifest going forward in your future actions," she finally, calmly states as her tune comes to a satisfactory end.

Seir continues to shake his head, refusing to acknowledge the woman's words. "No," he says with a murmur. "No," he states again, this time louder and more forcefully. "I refuse to be that person again. I wallowed in self-pity for years, for decades. I will not return to that state," he declares, narrowing his eyes at the woman. "I know what it feels like to live again, to see the world in shades of colour that I have never seen before. However, I feel as if I am balancing between two halves of myself." Looking away, he pauses as if trying to find a better way to explain, to elaborate, and is seemingly coming up with nothing at first. "It is like the ground is splitting beneath you, forcing you to jump from one cliff to another or it will swallow you. I see my past and it conflicts with who I am now. I do not know how to reconcile these things."

Leadership, love, admiration, power... I had all of these things once. Things that people would kill for and yet it wasn't enough. Maybe the past isn't a shackle, but a lesson... Did I truly learn anything from it though? I'm here, am I not? Arguing with 'nobody'.

"You jump to the other cliff," an old Tsol'aa woman states, so simply, as if the answer were that
obvious. She leans back to rest her back against the rear portion of the bench. "If you do not jump, you don't get to see what lies upon the path ahead that the other cliff leads to." Her fingers curl around her cane, and she gives the bottom of it a light kick with her right foot. Were she at all phased by your brief outburst, her countenance certainly doesn't show it. "You sit here in front of me, full of memories to draw upon, mistakes made that you now know not to make again," she says through an exhalation. "And you'd choose to wallow in the mistakes you've already made and cannot change as opposed to the actions you have yet to make to lead somewhere brighter?" she almost skeptically regards. "You are no fool, child, even I can see that."

Almost rather fondly, an old Tsol'aa woman says, "Life isn't everlasting, no matter what those tales we were all told as children would lead us to believe. Our time is limited. A gift to be treasured."

Seir reflects for a moment and lowers his head. He seems to withdraw into himself, as if he were becoming the very person that he was before. A brief flicker of a smile stretches across his lips. It widens, softens, and eventually blooms into a wider smile. "I am a fool," he says, though his tone suggests that this does not phase him in the slightest. "But I'm alive, aren't I? Life beats in my veins, the world is at my feet..." A chuckle erupts from his throat, eventually forming into a light fit of laughter. "I will live my life as a fool, I think. However, I'd rather be a happy fool and move forward than a bitter, all-knowing cynic who clings to old memories." His laughter subsides, though Seir's smile remains as wide as it was before. "A gift to be treasured. Aye..."

Again an old Tsol'aa woman raps you with that cane of hers, this time lighter than the first, though only because the previous swat evidently took its physical toll on her. A short span of coughs follow this exertion of hers that she stifles with a hand; as she lowers the hand the presence of a few speckles of blood are impossible to ignore, despite her attempt to disguise them by quickly stuffing the hand away. She allows silence to rein supreme for a good long while, silence that stands sharply in contrast to the bustling sounds and revelry carrying on around you. Her head shakes once more, and she releases a slow, labored breath.

Seir's smile wanes after being rapped again and he looks over to the old woman.
Disturbed, he leans closer to inspect her. "Are you..." he begins, wariness -- or perhaps even fear is now evident in his voice. "Are you alright?" he manages, craning his head to get a full view of the woman's face.

"No," an old Tsol'aa woman answers with a level of blunt honesty only one of her age could convincingly pull off. She once again allows silence to linger for a good long while before she releases a breath. "My time here is coming to an end," she somberly states, and yet despite the rather macabre nature of this statement a smile still lingers upon her lips, subtle as it may be. "She told me she'd give me an extra day here, if only to spread my message to one who needed to hear it. One who would listen," she explains with a slow nod. "She warned me though that you would be stubborn. That you would flit between one extreme to another, likely stuck in your own ways, muddying your face with a past that haunts you yet." Her smile shifts into more of a grin as she shifts that sightless gaze once more to your face. "I think you've got it in you though."

Seir reflects in silence, looking down away from the woman, as if he were realizing the validity of the woman's claims. His emotions calm, and his smile remains for a small amount of time. However, something dawns on him, as if it were a horrible realization of sorts. "Wait," he says, looking right back at the woman. "Who are you... Who are you really?"

"I am your past, dear," an old Tsol'aa woman answers, her expression one of sheer contentedness as her left hand lowers to rest upon her lap. "I am your inhibitions, your harrowing memories that stop you from moving forward," she continues, never once breaking eye contact with you. Her opposite hand moves to rest upon your knee, where it lightly, weakly sits. "I am nobody."

Seir doesn't break eye contact, instead his irises dart about as if trying to make sense of it all. Eventually, he turns saddened, his mouth slightly agape as if he were coming to another epiphany. "I see," he murmurs, going silent once more. Gently, the Idreth raises his own hand and places it atop of the woman's own. He grips lightly, as if clinging to something, or someone that he does not want to release. Eventually, however, he relents and lifts his hand once more. Quietly, he rises once more from the bench and takes a step forward, staring at the busy square and all of the hazy individuals populating it. Pivoting on his heel, he turns to the face the woman once more. "Not all of my past was painful," he says towards her, a frown on his face. "What I'm trying to say is... thank you. To some extent, I wouldn't be who I am if it weren't for you."

Swallowing, you say, "But I have to let you go, don't I?"

An old Tsol'aa woman offers you a sad smile, and but a brief nod of her head. "I've been told I had some good parts - cherish those, remember them, hold them fondly," she explains as she gives your knee a light pat. It is in that very moment that all the hustle and bustle around you comes to an abrupt halt, as if time itself was frozen. The murmurs of the onlookers, the conversations of the shoppers within the adjacent shops, and the rushed steps of all those who seem so set on their next destination cease entirely. "Goodbye, Seir," she says, her voice carrying easily over the newfound silence around you. Her eyes flutter slowly shut as she slumps backwards almost peacefully into the bench, lifeless.

Your exhausted mind can stay awake no longer, and you fall into a deep sleep.

An unusually vivid dream swirls through your sleeping mind, and you have the distinct impression of movement.

A patch of wild mushrooms in the wood.
A pale blue mushroom is here, speckled with white dots. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. A spongy white morel is here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. With a stoic expression, a Sentaari monk stands here. Dripping with bright green liquid, a very lush fruit rests on the ground here. Coiling and shifting endlessly, a serpent spirit hangs in the air. Tossing her august mane, a sprightly white mare stands here. The sublime glow of the core casts an effulgent green light over the surrounding area.
You see exits leading north, northeast, south, and southwest.

You open your eyes and yawn mightily.

You awaken with a start within a wild patch of mushrooms, having evidently dozed off at one point or another. Though you feel altogether unharmed, and if anything well rested at the very least, the memory of what had just occurred lingers prominently within the back of your mind. The feelings are real, gut-wrenching, palpable, and yet bizarre all at the same time considering your current location. As your surroundings sharpen and your eyes fully adjust once more, the presence of a black-inked tattoo that glows with an ethereal sort of energy makes itself present upon your wrist.

Omei, the Nightmare has invited you to join the Divine Order of Omei, the Nightmare and awaits a response.
AGREE if you wish to join the order.

Omei grants you entrance into Her Order. Congratulations!

(Order): Omei says, "Welcome home, Seir."

(Order): Aymah says, "Welcome, Seir."

(Order): Pazradym says, "Welcome!"

(Order): Qephah says, "Welcome."

Seir wakes up, lurching forward in a slight cold sweat. His breath is heavy but it quickly abates to normal. He touches his chest, arms, and other parts of his body, as if testing his reality. Finally, his hands reach his face and pause. The tips of his fingers are wet and he withdraws them from his face to stare at them... tears. Yet, a smile seems to crawl across his lips, unexplainable and confusing. He lowers his gaze, catching sight of the tattoo on the wrist of his normal hand.

"It's a new day," Seir murmurs, lifting his gaze from the tattoo and staring up at
the mid-morning sky.