Where in Gaia was she?!
She continued to roam, refusing to admit to herself (let alone anyone else) that she was lost. It wasn't proper, she decided, that she would not know her location. After all, her servant was always so scatterbrained about directions it was only natural for the Gaian woman to lose her way. But she wasn't that woman, she wasn't even Gaian. She was Silarian and she was a Wyndre at that. And Wyndres do not get lost.
"They take the scenic route." Haze reminds herself confidently. Yes, she was just on a longer route, taking in the sights before she retreated to her house. With a simple toss of her head, she effortlessly flips her fiery red hair over her shoulders.
Her renewed confidence, however, is quickly extinquished at the first drop of rain. She peers up, and another drop lands between her eyes.
"By Yrast..." she moans before rushing towards the closest building she could find.Thunder claps in the distance. The House, a mansion with an open, sheltered porch and boarded over windows, an overgrown lawn and three floors, claims to be the closest thing to shelter for the woman as the rain comes darn harder.
A pidgeon eyes her warily from his roost on a second floor window ledge, hopping from foot to foot.
Grace and poise be damned, Haze had no intentions of getting her latest acquisitions wet! She hurried to the House (anything smaller than Wyndre Manor was a house to the red-head) with ground devouring strides, unconcerned whether or not it was safe or legal to take shelter on another person's property.
Once she sought the porch's cover, she set her things down to see if any of her purchases had been damaged by the rain. Naturally she was releasing string upon string of expletives as she checked."Well, do come inside!"
The voice is chipper and kind, but has no origin. The curtains of the window nearest Haze sudden flutter, as if someone had been peeking all along and just now decided to duck away. Rain patters hard against the roof above the visitor's head.
The same someone laughs sweetly. "Wouldn't want your things to get wet. Come in, dear, do come in!"
Haze paused mid-curse upon hearing a voice, praying fervently to Yrast that she was not heard saying such unbecoming things. Not to appear ungrateful to her host the Silarian woman smiles towards the windows, believing it to be the source.
"I thank you, and apologize for this intrusion." She curtsies, however not too low for she may not be addressing nobility. Gathering her things, she steals a glance at the windows again. If there was someone present she could not make him or her out.
And without a second thought she opens the doors and enters.The door shuts very suddenly behind the now-victim, and whatever the main hall might appear to look like, it cannot be seen just yet.
"Sorry about the mess," the voice says idly, and a very dark patch in the distance to right of the victim seems to be its source. She doesn't even seem phased by the odd state of the house. Instead, she turns away, calling out, "I'll go fetch you some tea!"
Instincts cause Haze to drop her things and take a defensive stance. While her Gesturemancy doesn't work in Gaia she couldn't fight muscle memory. The parcels noisly crumple to the floor, spilling their contents (being several pants, pairs of shoes and a couple of children's dresses) and seemingly disappearing into the darkness.
"No thank you, I am not that fond of tea." Haze declares, cursing the lack of light. Until she could see who or what she was talking to, Haze wasn't going to let her guard down.The woman laughs again. "Nonsense! Everyone loves tea. Cleanses the soul, I say." The shadow in a shadow disappears completely from view.
The darkness lifts only as much as it can when eyes adjust to circumstances of little light. Still, not much can be seen. Something cold brushes up against the feet of the victim.
Haze mutters beneath her breath just what her 'host' could do with her tea. Silhouttes take shape before her eyes, but everything is still featureless, indistinguishable. She might as well have been blind for all she could make out.
She does not scream at the sensation coming from her feet, instead she takes several steps backwards until she is pressed against the door. Her arms are raised in preparations of Gesturemancy, though she looks more like she is asking someone for a dance.Only, the door no longer exists.
Something grasps her arm. The darkened figure is back, and even up close, none of her features can be seen. She is small and probably supposed to resemble an elder woman.
"What, have you never sailed a boat before? Come, come come child, you have much to learn..!"
Urgently, the shadow gives the victim a nudge. The cold returns, more forcefully this time. And while all this happens, out to the left in what seems to be the far off distance, a lighthouse's beacon of light shines in their direction and for a moment illuminates the scene.
A body of water. A tiny ship bobbing in the water within an arm's reach. Water licks up on the dry land and passes over the victim's feet again, like it had twice before now. The dry land itself is nothing more than a pathetic, irregular circle of sand and weeds.
Disoriented, Haze reaches out to claw at the figure, only she misses completely. Her golden eyes widen in disbelief, confusion but not fear. Oh no, fear only surfaced when the light shone upon them, upon her and where she was.
In vain she tries to come up with an explanation for all of this. Was this all a powerful illusion? Had she been sent elsewhere by an enchantment or portal? Her train of though is derailed as the water laps at her feet and she is even more aware of the figure gripping her arm.
"What are your intentions? I have the right to know!" Haze demands, attempting to regain some control over her situation, futile as that may be. Haze was not the sort who gives in.The woman laughs bitterly, her otherwise sweet voice spoiled by it. "Intentions? Well, I intend to get off this island, and while I'd love to just leave whether with you or not, I cannot possibly man this craft without your help. Curse of the aged, I say.."
The sound of waves hitting the sand fills the air, along with the occasional gull's cry. It is night, and the stars brightly speckle the huge, stretching sky. Again, the distant lighthouse lends a beam their way, but no longer is it needed. The appearance of the moon now suffices.
Haze winces at the threat of being stranded. A twist of her foot, a flick of her free wrist, she is met with nothing but the gull's cry and the water becoming more acquainted with her feet. Gesturemancy does not seem to work here either.
She resigns herself to the fact that she must perform manual labor (the very idea leaves a horrible taste in her mouth) in order to escape from wherever she is.
"Fine." She hisses, and that one word spoke volumes of her displeasure and distaste. "What exactly am I required to do?"The woman, though most of her features are still shadowed, brightens considerably. Without replying, she eagerly climbs the rope ladder that dangles down one side of the tiny ship. Another gull croaks and something splashes behind the victim into the water; perhaps that same bird, diving or dying.
Haze stares at the rope and reaches out for it, her slender fingers curling around the rough texture momentarily before hoisting herself up after the woman-shadow. An image flashes in her mind of a noose being slipped around her neck. With each woven rung she climbs, the noose draws tighter.
She hears the splash behind her, debating on whether or not she cares enough to see what caused it. Blankly she glances over her shoulder.This is a mistake, for the boat lurches away from the shore prematurely. "Whoops," the woman mutters absently, and sounds can be heard as she shuffles about the deck. Something, probably a bucket, crashes about.
"Are you coming, child?"
Haze feels herself slam against the side of the ship, her shoulders taking the brunt of the impact. It is not that grave a blow, not enough to break bone or even bruise skin. The crashing noises coming from the deck sounded more lethal. With a grunt, Haze pulls herself on board, golden eyes glaring daggers at the shadow-woman.
She folds her arms across her chest, her gaze challenging and blatantly showing she was not going to be agreeable in the least.The woman tosses her a rope almost immediately. "Man the sails," she grunts, shading her eyes as she peers off the side of the boat. The pathetic patch of land is already quickly receeding, surprising, what with how little wind there is to fill the sails.
"And you'd best hold on," the woman warns, scooping up a pile of miscellaenous items. "Once the storm sets in, it won't be a pleasant cruise.."
"How does one man sails?" Haze asks as she catches the rope, and yes, it was a genuine question. She stares at the barely billowing sails and at the rope in her hands. Unless someone shows her the process of manning sails, Haze would end up doing more harm than good. And this time it would be unintentional.
"And we're sailing into a storm!? Have you any idea how inexperienced I am with ships? Have you taken into account that I was not the best of candidates for this task?"
Someone had better stop her from her tirade as Haze is quite capable of talking all night. Regardless of outside noise. The woman merely shrugs. "I didn't exactly have a choice of sailors, child. And you do this-"
She reaches over, tugging the rope harshly and tying some of the excess closer to the post up. "Just.. continue to watch for changes in the wind," the woman suggests, distractedly turning to look out into the distance again. Indeed, the sky is darkened black by thick threatening clouds.
"I intend to get us out of its path before it can swipe us up!" the shadow woman barks, with a hint of insanity on her voice. No longer is any of her innocence and kindess remaining. "If I would have told you about the storm, you wouldn't have agreed to come along. And I wasn't about to drown on that speck of land, no sir-ee, if I have to go.."
She turns her back to the victim, a wrinkled hand to her brow. ".. I'm going down fighting."
Under different circumstances Haze would have admired the woman-shadow, perhaps even go so far as to say she liked her. Under different circumstances Haze would have been civil and listened to the wisdom in the woman-shadow's words. Under different circumstances Haze wouldn't be tying and untying ropes to accommodate the wind.
However things were not under different circumstances.
Hence Haze despised the featureless woman. Hence Haze resented her decisions and choices. Hence Haze was manning the sales like a commoner instead of being below deck making herself comfortable. Thank Yrast her brother could not see her now.
"How close is the storm?" Haze asked, the wind whipping her hair all over her face."Too close," growls the woman, dropping her hand to her side. She hobbles over to the items, pulling out a map and unfolding it under her weathered hands. She skims over it, looking for the spot where they should be heading. She taps one particular spot, straightening her crooked back a little.
But rain begins to fall..
"What?" Haze hisses, feeling the clouds pelt her with water. This whole mess started when she ran for shelter from the rain, she sincerely hoped that this was a turn for the better. Had she read any books on non-Silarian philosophers, she would have encountered Marcel. Had she read the works of the aforementioned philosopher, Haze would have realized she was not 'hoping' the true Hope, at least not according to Marcel.
Simply put, there was no reason why she wouldn't feel disappointed if her hopes were not met.The woman opens her mouth to respond, but only receives a mouthful of salt water. She chokes loudly, and another crash against the side of the tiny ship sends her crashing across the deck in a mess of water and objects.
"AUGHHhh," she screams over the roar of waves and rain, again choking. "What madness is this? No storm can come on this fast!"
Thunder claps and lightning illuminates the sky, replacing the lighthouse, which cannot be seen any longer. The ship tips to the left, slicing through waves wrecklessly, battered by the stronger waves..
Apparently even a lie was too much to ask for, but an answer was the last thing on Haze's mind as the storm hit. The waves drench the Silarian, soaking her clothing, matting her hair to her skin. She is unable to hear the woman-shadow's words, the roar of the ocean drowning out all other sounds.
She feels herself slipping, her footing no longer secure as the boat threatens to capsize. Another blast of salt water, this time catching Haze's face full on. She coughs and sputters, eyes stinging from the salt and her lungs crying out at the intrusion of water. With one hand she rubs at the tears, but with one anchor securing her to the boat she is knocked overboard.The water is even colder head on. Indeed, the last blast was hard enough to knock the tiny ship clear on its side, both occupants lost to the unstable waters. The lightning had made its way closer all the while, and as if to finalize the act, what remains visible of the boat is struck.
Down and down and down.. water swirls around, bubbles slide across skin, slime muddles up vision..
She struggles against the watery embrace, her feet and arms thrasing in a desperate attempt to return to the surface. She knows how to swim is too disoriented to remember how. She screams in frustration, precious air fleeing into the waters to join the rest of the bubbles.
Her lungs begin burn perhaps in an attempt to turn the waters into steam. Slender fingers clutch at her throat as she kicks even more violently at the waters, demanding it releases its hold on her.Consciousness fades.
The waters continue to thrash but do so too far overhead. Like a vacuum, the water deeper below the surface sucks in a spiral, slurping up the victim in a whirlpool. It isn't slow and natural, but rather calculated and over before the victim is aware enough to react.
Her body surrenders to the lack of air, and she goes limp. The undercurrent claims Haze seconds after unconsciousness does. She seems asleep, a restless, dreamless sleep. But she makes no motion, there's no indication she is aware of anything anymore.How much time has passed? There is no way of telling just yet.
The victim's body droops halfway over the edge of the second floor of the library, looking very much like she has been shipwrecked. Books line the walls up here exactly like they do below, only up here the spines look ratted and well worn. Further down, there is actually a large continuous slice carving down through five books. They've taken a beating, all right, much like the victim..
Haze groaned for the first few seconds upon opening her eyes. The remainder of the time was spent cursing and cussing in a manner that was most unbecoming of a lady. Not that Haze cared much at that point. She steadied herself, a hand reaching out for support and she ends up latching onto a book.
Everything was hazy for the Silarian, until she remembered just what had happened just moments ago. Or what might have happened, she wasn't entirely certain. As she took a few wobbly steps forward her knees buckled, the floor was coming up to greet her and in the process she pulled out the book. Her arms shot out to break her fall and to do so she released her hold on the volume.
It splayed open.The words are first in a language different than as per usual of the Library, but with the warmth of human hands, so long forgotten, something is put into place. The individual letters slip away into the page and the ink reforms itself into English.
"HEY!"
Footsteps sound up the winding metal staircase in a hurry.
Haze feels the floor connect with her palms, hears the dull thud of her knees against wood. Her golden eyes turns towads the voice, "Oh no, not another shadow-creature..." she muttered. This time she scans her surroundings, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon. She recalls the book she had dislodged from its rightful place. She could use that! Her hands paw at the floor, searching for it.A man with sleek lime green hair and tiny horns grins down on Haze. His shirt is buttoned wrong and he maintains the appearance of one who had a fight with the laundry machine. Still, he tries to remain as friendly as possible. Unlike the old woman, everything about him is illuminated by the rows of self-sustaining candles.
"Sorry to startle you," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck apologetically. "I couldn't help but notice the unusual means by which you, er, dropped in."
He slides a hand over the spines of the nearest books, taking with him a layer of dust. His bright eyes cloud over for a second, and he whispers to himself, "Getting more and more creative on us, House.."
Haze is suspicious despite the welcoming and friendly appearance of the man. After all, things were not always what they seemed and this entire house certainly reeked of it.
"I am to assume you are the owner of this establishment?" she asks, "Or are you merely the caretaker and your master is away on business?" it could always be one or the other. At this moment Haze didn't care which was correct.
"In any case, what exactly happened? And are my purchases undamaged or were they swept away by that storm when I was sent to that island?" Trust Haze to be concerned about her clothes first and foremost.Pippin raises an eyebrow, deciding what to answer first.
"I really can't tell you what happened, 'cause I don't know. I'll just take a wild guess and say you were passing by and something drew you inside?" He quickly raises his hands in defence. "I had nothing to do with that, rest assured. But what I will have something to do with is that book you've opened."
He twists one of his open hands to gesture at the tattered blue book. "Will you take a walk with me? I can explain more once we've gone downstairs."
"You mean to say you know nothing about the atrociously frightening woman-shadow that made me perform manual labor? And that you have nothing to do with the horrible storm that practically drowned me?" Haze paled in anger, but she had to force herself to restrain herself. It did not make a good impression to lose one's temper with someone whose disposition, position and political standing you did not know of. She muttered something in a language that was not spoken in Gaia, it was a calming mantra to the red-head. But in fairness it sounded like she was counting to ten.
"Alright, that would perhaps be the best thing to do. Although I have to apologize about the book, I had no intentions of ruining the order you had placed them in." It was meant, the apology. She really didn't care much for them unless they were from Silar."Huh?" Pippin already starts to return down the stairs when he turns on his heel to face the victim, haphazardly going down the stairs backwards. "Oh! Nono, that's fine. Bring it with you, and when we pass that lopsided table - see it there? - just put it down and follow me."
He forces a smile back on his face, though dread is what he really feels. He knows this much - the more times he does this job, the worse off they all are.
She quirks a brow at his suggestion but wordlessly retrieves the book from the floor. There is something about the man she doesn't trust, for example is his hair truly of that shade of lime? Or was it dyed that way? She wasn't concerned about the horns though, they were quite fashionable at one point in Odanna.
She clutches the book to her side and follows him down the stairs. And once they arrive at the lopsided table (unless it was an antique she saw no reason why it shouldn't be replaced) and left the book there.Managing to sidestep a tragic accident of falling backwards down the stairs - and anyone who knows the man is aware of how much of a feat that is - Pippin hops down the last few steps, his coon tail finally visible and swishing against the air.
His strides are long and calculated, so he passes the table in no time, and having already explained what the victim needed to do next, continues. His silver eyes catch a certain book in its display case, and Pippin winces, forcing himself to look away.
"We'll just stop by my office for a thing or two," he suggests, finding it a liable excuse.
"Will these things have something to do with the authorities? Because I assure you I was not here to steal anything, I can afford to buy anything I wish." Haze narrows her eyes in defense of herself. Was this man going to try and accuse her of breaking and entering? It would be difficult to explain how she ended up in the second floor, not to mention the woman-shadow and the storm.
Maybe she had taken something that caused her to hallucinate? A potion of some sort, perhaps?Pippin chuckles to himself. "No, I won't be pressing charges, miss," he assures her, turning on his heel to ensure that she did as she was told and left the book behind. With a motion of his hand, he continues along the maze of bookshelves, his coon tail floating to and fro.
"You see," he starts to say, once the clearing is out of sight. "That book you opened was no normal literary text. I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you-" He mumbles an additional, and all the others.. "- that you're about to have a lifelong commitment on your hands."
He fumbles for his keys, allowing her a moment to take that in. His office is up ahead, and he continues for it like he hadn't just hinted towards something completely insane.
"Thank Yrast for that. But don't tell me the book is enchanted and now it will follow me wherever I go." Haze rolled her eyes, more of annoyance than sarcasm. There was nothing unusual about enchanted books, or pens, or even stores luring in unsuspecting customers only to dole out children. "Or will this book now be recording my life and whatever else I may do and my peers will undoubtedly end up with a copy of whatever is transcribed?"Pippin raises a lime eyebrow - settling the mystery of whether the colour is natural - while fiddling with the finicky lock. "Uh.." he begins to say, jiggling the handle, "Closer to the first one."
The door bursts open, and since Pippin had his weight on it, he too flies inside most ungracefully. So much for his lucky night. He laughs and remains on the floor, leaning against a pile of read and reread magazines.
"Come in and shut the door. What I have to tell you might take a while, an' I don't want you to get spooked and run off or something."
Haze notes the hue of the man's brows, that certainly proved the authenticity of his hair. She tries to recall if there was such a bloodline back in Silar that produces lime-hued locks.
"I suppose if the book is sentient it would be difficult. If it was more similar to having a pet, I believe that would be alright." she shrugs and watches passively as he falls into his office. She quirks her brows again and complies with his request.
"Alright, what is it that you have to tell me of this book."Folding his arms behind his head, Pippin begins to do what he does best- talk. The explains, going off on a few tangents but still not leaving the poor victim the chance to get a word in edgewise, the entire thing: how the books turn into children and animals bonded by birth, the excerpts always found with the pairs, and how every person who comes to the Library has a new and often increasingly strange story to tell about how they got there.
Satisfied, Pippin drops his hands onto his knees, sitting up straight again. "Would you like to go see your book child now?" he asks cheerfully, his head tilted to the side with the same look a puppy might give.
Haze felt as if she had been thrown into a stream of deja vu at the man's explanation. Was this all one horrible coincidence? Or was everything contrived from the moment she left the boutiques and gotten herself lost?
She was at a loss of words, it wasn't bad enough she had been given guardianship of Kalderetta. She had another child to care for? This was a little too much responsibility for her.
"Must I?" she blinks, hoping that if she had some control over her situation. Again it wasn't the true Hope that Marcel spoke of.Pippin gives her a strange, confused look. "Well, I should hope so. They're your responsibility now - you opened the book and released'm."
With the help of his messy desk, Pippin pulls himself to his feet and brushes off his hands. Not having too far to reach, he also opens the door, offering the victim the empty doorway.
"Just where you left'm," he whistles, his mood suddenly higher. Even if more kids means bad news, seeing a new one always brightens his day.
Haze steels herself for what was to be another burden. Maybe she could pass this one on to Huni? She doubted it, even if she threatened to fire the Gaian she had to admit she was fond of Huni.
"Where are you?" she calls out, feeling somewhat foolish.Pippin giggles to himself, following close behind the victim. "Do you need me to show you the way?" he asks with a genuine amused smile. "They're only babies, so they'll be right where you left'm, on the table."
He skips out ahead of her, dodging through the maze of bookshelves. "C'mon, you don't want me to be the first to lay eye on your new kids, now, doncha?"
Haze rubbed her temples and walked down the hallway to where the lopsided table was (she shall never look at lopsided tables the same way again).
'You can take him if you'd like...' She mentally groans at Pippin, 'Yrast why me?'
Upon arriving she gasps at the sight before her.A loud squawk sounds that there is indeed life up on the table, just as the lime man had said. Of course, it could've all been prearranged and a set up and all that jazz, but no one ever things about that..
Pippin lets out an amazed whistle. "B-e-a-utiful!"
Curled up on the table is a precious male child with long dark hair, his blue clothes spreading around him fluidly. He sighs softly and presses his tiny fingers into the feathers of his daemon bond, who lets out another reassuring sound.
A pendant rests nearby the pair, and underneath it, as if it is used as a paperweight, rests a tattered piece of paper. Much like the book from whence it came, the words are not English, at least for a short span of time.
"Huminto siya, nagdilidili, naino niyang siya'y nasa sa tubig. Ang lawa'y tahimik noon at natatnaw na niya ang mga ilaw sa ilang dampa ng mga mangingisda. Nagbalik siya sa baybayin at nagtungo sa bayan, nguni't dahil sa ano? Siya man ay di niya nalalaman. Waring ang kabayana'y walang tao. Lahat ng mga pinto ay nakapinid. Ang pinilakang sikat ng buwan ay nakapagdaragdag pa ng lungkot at kapanglawan."And this is when the boy Forgotten raises his head, his chocolate eyes blinking twice at the newcomers as if they are the attraction here and he is the observer. The daemon, whatever the creature can be classified as, scrambles against her Forgotten's lap to crane her neck and see, too, the stunned woman and the odd man. It is as if they already share a silent moment with one another.
The Forgotten utters a small sound, and behind him, unnoticed and not visible by anyone, the excerpt's words slip away and reform into a more common form of english.
"He stopped, collected his wits and noted that he was in the water. The lake was calm and he could make out the lights in the fishermen's huts. He returned to the shore and headed towards the town, for what, he himself did not know. The town seemed uninhabited; the houses were all shut up. The silvery light of the moon added to the sadness and the solitude.""Well?" Pippin whispers, giving the woman a nudge. "Go say hello to them!"
Name: Haze K. Wyndre
