Welcome to Gaia! ::

There was a visitor. A knight.

Hvergelmir had gotten better, over the years, at, gleaning information from her auric senses. While it was still almost impossible to distinguish the owner of a particular aura, time and great patience had given her more of a sense of the shifts of auras around her -- when they were moving left versus right, whether their ebb or flow in her perception meant someone was directly approaching or just passing by. It was a little easier to tell, now, when someone was drifting past her en route to some other place, versus when they might be circling in toward her specifically. She felt this knight's aura close progressively in around her like a nearing spiral.

That was fine. Some people were more cautious than others. She smiled down at her book and waited, turning another page.

When the knight grew close enough, she raised her chin at last, expectant, and folded her book slowly closed, an iridescent ribbon tucked between its pages. It wouldn't do to give a visitor less than her full attention -- and if it was a knight, it was more likely to be someone she knew, or someone she'd at least seen before. Knights would have different reasons for seeking her aid than pages or squires might -- most of them were seasoned by experience before they reached their rank, familiar with the world. A knight coming to see her was either a friend, or someone who knew they needed more of something than what their own resources could provide.

Hvergelmir did not expect the bright, gleaming gold sheen of lamplight off of bright brass armor, casting a heroic luminance over beautiful -- familiar -- features.

This was someone she knew. Not a friend, not the last time they'd spoken, but -- someone she had history with. Someone . . . someone she knew, and had never hoped to expect here and now, like this.

She rose to her feet in a single fluid movement. The knight still towered over her, heels granting needless spare height to an already statuesque physique. Her muscles gleamed as much as her armor; her eyes flashed clear and bright. She looked -- healthy, in some way Hvergelmir felt she'd never looked before, some essential spiritual sense. It was hard to describe, and maybe just wishful thinking, but she looked . . . she looked whole.

"The offer stands, when the caller is Tanais of Mars," she breathed, afraid to blink and lose the illusion. "Do you know me?"

Hvergelmir blushed, slipping her softer hand into Tanais's strong grip. What a marvel it was to be standing here in this moment -- smiling at the same woman who'd been Cinnabar once, and now greeting her as a new and long-awaited friend.

"This isn't the only lifetime in which you've broken free of Metallia's shackles," she answered simply. "Someone like you was never meant to be leashed."

She lowered her hand, feeling the wamth of the Mars knight's handshake linger. "A handful of years ago, most of us began to have dreams and visions -- memories of a sort of possible future. The same future, we were all remembering the same events that hadn't happened yet. Things that could happen. In that other future -- one we all could remember parts of, even though it never happened-- you'd left the Negaverse and become a knight, too. That's why I know who you are . . . because you have a place with us twice over."

Her gaze shifted, turning thoughtful. "Those memories -- dreams, whatever you want to call them -- might come back to you again, even now. It's possible, even with the memory loss that seems to always come with purification. Those memories don't seem to come from the same place -- they're more like the memories we sometimes have of our past lives, they come from something that must be beyond this lifetime. After all this time, I still remember new bits, occasionally -- so maybe you will too. In the meantime -- " She smiled. "The here and now is a lot less bleak, and we've just met. Come and sit with me, then, if you already know my name, and tell me how I can help you."

Hvergelmir stifled the desire to wince at Tanais's question.

She would've liked to answer a question that cast them all, and their war effort, in a better light. Something that reflected the courage and the painful struggle of the people she'd known. People who'd fought, screamed, died for what they believed was right.

There wasn't an answer like that.

Hvergelmir let out a slow breath. Her smile was a rueful one -- the sort of apologetic smile that was meant to accompany disappointing news. "You have a strategic mind," she assessed, "and we are sorely in need of that right now. We have no structures, no strongholds, no organized troops. We exist only as we are -- individual people hiding within our civilian lives. You'll find us a collection of people resistant to organizations and leadership -- still struggling to cope with the perils of a life, a war, and a responsibility none of us ever asked for. We are rowdy, fractious, confused, and terrified."

She paused, shifting. Making her pitch. She didn't want to lie to Tanais about the state of things, the uphill climb they were all making. But they couldn't afford to lose her enthusiasm, either.

What this war needed were practical soldiers who could look at the state of their forces and not throw in the towel or imagine away the reality of things. They needed people who could see the work ahead of them all and not flinch away from it. Hvergelmir believed in using every tool at their disposal.

She could only hope Tanais did, too.

"But our fight isn't worth giving up on. The people who stand on this side of the war may not be an army that marches in formation on the field - but they fight because they have to. For people they love, and for people they don't know at all. They're passionate, free-thinking, and driven. And incredibly brave. What they lack in military discipline, they possess in incredible resilience. Courage may not be a substitute for experience . . . but it's something to start with."

Hvergelmir knotted her fingers together. It was the best argument she could make -- don't give up on us -- but surely it wasn't all she could say for them. She'd been in this war for years, too. She'd seen sparks of hope spring to life.

"There are people you could talk to, people who've tried to organize supply points, structured patrols. Sailor Thraen is singularly driven -- he pushes people to be better, and to support each other -- he tried an organization in the past. And you'll find groups that have banded together, too. Teams of sailor soldiers, teams of knights -- like-minded people, friends, who understand their strength in numbers. I'd like to think there are places to start. But I'm limited in what I can do. My circumstances tie my hands. It would have to be someone else . . . we need people willing to do the work, and sometimes, to shoulder the dirty hands or the bad publicity."