Post date: Jul 7, 2020 4:57:56 AM
The little Manor near the Lake of Fear was alive with the sounds of activity. The sounds of feet stomping on the ground, shouting, and the creaking of bones. The sounds of a tall, adult male flying through the air. The steaming water of the pool that dominated the manor's garden was disrupted with a loud splash of Faerinn crashing through it. The Half-Elf with the wavy blonde hair pulls himself from the bath clad in only black pants. Faerinn pulls himself to his feet and falls into an unarmed combat stance.
“Out of bounds,” the empath sipping on a beaker of tea said, “One point, Nammit.” She stood off to the side between two combatants and moved one tick of an abacus to the left.
Naamit stands on the other end of the courtyard turned into an impromptu arena. She is dressed in a hunting gown, signature girdle, and chopines that make the height difference between her and Faerinn nearly equal. Once Faerinn has dislodged himself from the bath and re-entered the courtyard she is on him again. They exchanged blows, Faerinn saw her footing was off, and he swatted away a punch sailing towards his head with a quick strike to her wrist.
“Fractured wrist: two points." The empath took a sip of her tea and moved two ticks of the abacus to the right.
"Take those back," Faerinn retorted. "I don't need pity points. Save it for when I get an intentional hit in."
Naamit scoffed in response. "Save the outrage. Feel free to take advantage when I make a mistake."
She rushes him again. He hits the same wrist again. This time with the punch he knocks her fist off center, takes her wrist in his hands, hip checks Naamit, and using his body as a fulcrum throws her to the ground.
"Knock down," the empath announced. "One point." The wooden pegs clacked when she ticked the abacus again.
While the sound still resonated in the courtyard, Faerinn knelt beside Naamit, cradled the arm he still held like a baby, and twisted the arm forward.
"Do you buy what Socius said then? About Jaston?" Faerinn asked between rapid breaths, “What about your V’s?”
"I said hurt me hard enough to make this conversation worth my time," Naamit commanded.
Faerinn leaned further forward. Naamit didn't flinch or make any sound in response other than her breathing growing more ragged.
"We could have just talked over tea, but this is what you opted for instead," Faerinn said. "Any regrets?"
"Many, but none about this."
"By the way, good move turning your head away from me. That lessens the sting from this hold."
Faerinn rolled his eyes when Naamit turned her head in his direction bearing a smirk on her face. He sighed.
"I saw three V's in my divination," she told him. "I think it relates to his religious preferences. Those are the key to his memories: V'tull, vengeance, and Voln, perhaps? I am skeptical about his beliefs in Jaston, but a V on its side could be a J, for the winged-sylvan as well."
"That might be the key, but I think I know the door," Faerinn said. "His dreams-"
"Yes, I think I can get him into such a dream state with the borrowed knife," Naamit said, "I won't submit to pain alone. You will have to break the whole arm."
"The hell I do," Faerinn replied. "I can do this all day."
"Unlike you, I don't have a whole day to waste and people who rely on me." Naamit rolled back over her own arm, snapping it in the process. Her legs whipped around Faerinn's head catching it in her thighs. He heard something shatter and everything went dark. Not like the light being cut off, but like what happened next was missing entirely.
"Match point, Naamit," the Empath said when everything resumed. "Mortal injury."
Faerinn jerked up to an upright position, the Empath the only company remaining in the courtyard.
“You’re going to wake up soon,” the voice in Faerinn’s subconscious growled.
He glanced around the fading courtyard as the memory projected in the dreamscape fades away to the sound of three loud snaps.
**
“You're going to wake up now,” Faerinn’s voice intoned in his own ears. There was a pause for a moment, and then Faerinn's voice started again. "Start off relaxing your whole body."
Faerinn took the band of swirling air and sound repeating his own words back to him off of his head before dismissing it. He sat up from the divan he was laying across to take stock around the room. He was in front of a writing desk and a quick glance out the window confirmed it was late at night.
The writing desk was loaded with diagrams as well as books on the mind, memory, and dreams. Canvasses were piled against pasted with sketches and words connected with lines of different colored strings denoting their connections. He amends the diagram in front of him. He encapsulates the terms "Key" -> "Door (Dreams)" -> "Socius' Memories (Subconscious)", and then draws connecting lines between them all. From "Key" he writes and connects "V'Tull", "Vengeance", and "Voln".
Faerinn heard the tumblers in the front door turn over and draped himself over the table feigning sleep. Arms folded over his shoulders, and he turned his head to intercept the incoming kiss. Their lips parted.
“I’m eventually going to stop falling for that,” Ysaeril told him in Elven and brushed the blonde hair out of her face.
"That will be a sad day for me," Faerinn responded back in Elven, "But in all fairness I was just asleep a few minutes ago. Or close to it. Might as well reap the rewards."
Faerinn lifted his arms over his head, locked his fingers behind the small of Ysaeril's back, and pulled her closer.
“You’re certainly burning the midnight oil,” Ysaeril added.
Faerinn inhaled.
"You're one to talk just getting back from the studio. I smell the sealant on you. I'm reviewing some memories and notes in hopes of finding a breakthrough."
She giggled then leaned closer. “Is this for a case?”
Faerinn nodded and made a sweeping gesture at all the charts. “Too much?” he inquired with his most innocent smile.
"Well you've taken over my writing desk," she retorted.
"Kitty took over my house. Or the walls anyway," Faerinn said with a grin. "But, yeah, it's for the one I was telling you about. Socius Leiffen. Trying to unlock his memories. Others have been trying to go about the magical or spiritual route. So naturally I went with the mental. I took out everything Library Aies and Rohese had on the subject. Unless he suffered brain damage the memories didn't go away. The brain doesn't store things that way - it's not a book, it's a forest. The brain keeps the pathways to the memories so we don't lose them when we forget, we've just lost our way. "
"I see, but what is with all this dream literature then."
"Oh, that. Well dreams play a huge part in how we remember things. The earliest stages of dreaming are when we review the things we did that day, transferring it to our long term memory in the subconscious. I think this is the door we can get to Socius's lost memories through."
"You really think you can access the man's dreams?"
"I don't know about that part, but there was this fellow at the bar that tried to show Xanthium and Akenna how. Ok, now that I have said that out loud that seems unlikely. There's numerous other ways to get him in a dreamlike state though. Like certain reagents and meditation."
"Like mushrooms," Ysaeril said.
Faerinn nodded.
"Or Ether," Faerinn added.
“Will you be up much longer?”
"Not much longer, but don't wait up." He let go of her.
She stifled a yawn and wondered off towards the bedroom.
[Original: 07/03/202]