Welcome to Gaia! ::

She hustled down the dim hallway which was lit only by some indirect light filtering in through a window at the far end and then began down the stairs, taking care to sweep aside her long grey skirts. The young woman was feeling rather pleased at how quickly she'd been able to dress and pack up, and wasn't in enough of a rush to try falling down the stairs rather than stepping, even though there was more than enough energy still thrumming through her that she'd have been able to heal almost any bruise or break she might pick up on the way down.

Haste had seemed to be on the order of Letalus' day, and he'd mentioned that they had much to do. Merro tried to compile a list as she pattered down the steps.

Pawning one or both earrings ought to give them more than enough to travel on. She wasn't certain a merchant in Parnell would even have the wherewithal to afford the entire set even if they wished to part with it, though the town was prosperous enough to support more than one inn. And she had clothing, but they would need some food and wine as well. And a tinderbox? Did Letalus have one? What else did travelers need for a journey when they went a-traveling without a proper retinue of servants to see to their daily wants? Saints save her; she had no clue. She needed Letalus more than she knew.

That unexpected thought nearly made her stumble down the stairs after all.

Sentelle nodded her understanding and made her way across the hall. A glimpse around the room revealed that Merro had cleared out. Sentelle briefly considered changing out of her dress and into her traveling clothes, enlisting Letalus' aid in fastening her armor, but she recalled Letalus' request that she hurry. She lifted her bag by the straps and returned to Letalus' room.

Sentelle sat on the foot of the bed and reached into her bag for her family signet ring. Rather than her ring Sentelle was surprised to pull out a letter sealed with the signet of the ring she had been searching for. Her brows furrowed as she turned the letter over in her hands. It was the same unaddressed letter she had found in her great grandmother Alaerian’s (Uh-lair-ee-uhn) journal. Sentelle had at that time tried to break the seal and read the letter, but had been unable to.

Am I now to read the letter? Sentelle wondered to herself. She placed a finger under a fold of the letter and once more attempted to break the seal, still it remained intact. "If I am not now meant to read this," Sentelle held the folded parchment out to Letalus, "perhaps you are."

OOC: Bag of holding = produce the desired item. Thus the surprise/confusion.

Occupied with her thoughts, Merro did not notice the unevenness of her footing, but the unearthly shriek that rose up by her left boot definitely caught her attention. With a startled cry she jumped back, catching her heel on the bottom step and falling back upon the stairs, giving herself a good crack on the elbow and spine while she was at it. The pain as well as the passing of the mage-girl from last night went unnoticed as Merro drew her feet up and swept her skirt aside to see what unnatural or supernatural creature might be noisily birthing itself from the floorboards at such an inauspicious moment.

Leana was there by then, offering comfort and inquiries to what turned out to be Nova, and a breath which was half soft exclamation of concern and half sigh of relief - she really wasn't feeling up to facing yet another grand (mis)adventure quite yet - escaped from her lips. Getting up from her ungainly position and dusting her dress off, she bent to pick up her belongings - a couple of which were rustling offendedly - and kept an eye on Nova, wondering if the ferret might need anything further than a pat.

Letalus turned, hands dropping from fastening his cloak and held out his hand for the letter, one eyebrow arched. What was this nonsense? As if his life hadn't become complicated enough...

...as soon as his fingers touched the letter, his hand briefly turned into brown stone. He grunted, eyes wide, and almost dropped the parchment, but his flesh was warm and normal once more, as if nothing had ever happened. A thunderous glare was on his face now, one hand clutching the parchment, one pressed against his chest where a dull, hot ache had blossomed. He glanced at Sentelle, silently reproaching her for even bringing such a troublesome thing and opened it, pale eyes scanning the old script.

Letalus,

When you read this letter, you will know who it is from. I have seen the centuries you have lived in a mere moment and know what will transpire before you gain peace. Though the soul that lies within you is in torment from the deeds you have done, know that salvation, and redemption, is in your destiny, should you wish it.

No doubt a descendant from my very blood has placed this missive in your hands and you will mistrust her intentions, as you mistrust any kindness. She is the hand that will guide my will for you, and ultimately, for the fate of the world. While you may resent her and her order, you will not gain what you seek without her aid, so I ask that you be patient with her. Only she can steer you down the path to the one that will truly awaken your soul.

There will be powerful allies you should gather to yourself, all seeking something for themselves, be it freedom, redemption or glory...you will only be able to face down the coming storm with them at your side -- The Shifter, The Whistler, The Thief, The Lightening Guru and the White Witch. It will not be easy to lead them and there will be conflict, but with my descendant and the one who will awaken your soul, you will not fail. You are already drawn together by the threads of fate spanning across lifetimes.

Your world is darkened by a presence you know all too well and you must defeat it. If not for your own sake, the for the sake of the one you love...and I know you love, because no soul can be without it. Do not deny yourself the greatest gift. Protect it, Letalus.

Protect them all.

The more he read, the more his jaw tightened. Oh, he knew who it was from. He could feel the pious condescension radiating from the precisely penned words, a holier-than-thou, unruffled air that he'd only felt once before, centuries ago. He crumpled up the parchment violently in his fist, glancing at Sentelle from under his scowling brow.

It all made so much sense now. It wasn't enough that Sentelle was related to the very order of religious witches that cursed him to begin with, but to be a direct descendant of the priestess herself? The one who so calmly looked at him with faintly glowing cerulean eyes as his hands closed around her milky white throat, the one who pressed a delicate hand against his chest and plagued him with a will but none of the power to keep it his own?

It was so tempting to take Merro and just leave everyone else behind. He would take her to the temple and cloister her up so no one could harm her, not even himself. Then he'd see about finding a way to finally free himself and if that meant turning back into stone forever, so be it. But...

He pocketed the crumpled parchment, rolling his shoulders to adjust the cloak. "...we're leaving. Ready yourself." Then he turned and headed out, unwilling to discuss the contents of the letter with Sentelle just yet.

Sentelle watched in amazement as Letalus' hand changed briefly. Though it was not what she had expected it did not surprise her. Truly the letter was meant for Letalus. Sentelle watched as he read the letter, her brows furrowed as Letalus' jaw tightened. She found herself quite curious about the contents of the letter, yet even as she wondered she felt she was not yet meant to know.

"We're leaving..." Letalus told her. I am then to be included so easily? She wondered again what was in the letter. She had planned on going with Letalus and Merro, but she had figured on being an unwelcome tag-along.

Snatching up her bag she followed Letalus out the door then made her way across the hall to her room. Quickly she changed out of her religious raiment and into traveling attire. She scooped up her armor—it would be much faster if she could get some help with it—and headed down the stairs.

Korix pondered what it is he could teach Tomlin. His innate sorceror's powers weren't something he could really teach someone. He didn't feel that was really what Tomlin was interested in learning anyway. Korix thought back to the runes he had been asked to identify. "I may not be able to decipher the elven runes on your stones." Korix offered, "but I know someone who likely could."

"Sounds like a plan mate. How long would it take to get to them?" he asked in between eating his breakfast.