"Dancing in the Dark" [Brenner]

[Lyra]

60th of Frost, 121 AS

Continued from : Writing in the Light

The talks of hunts brought some life back into Brenner's eyes. The Commander presented a level of enthusiasm he had not shown to Lyra before, completely different from the fanatical devotion to the cause he normally exuded. Were the topic something less violent it would have been endearing Lyra thought.

"I am not a hunter." Lyra repeated in response to the smirk, "But I do hunt on occasion. You do give me such ideas though, enough that I am tempted to catch you in a bottle so you will never leave my side."

The banter was... fun. Odd as it was Lyra enjoyed the back and forth, so different from her interactions with others in her life, her current life.

"Fear not Commander, you are far too perfect a specimen to stuff and mount." There was a pause in which Lyra looked the man up and down with a small smile, "Well, I shall not stuff you at least."

While they spoke a soft chime announced Salem's presence before they saw him. The butler stepped out from behind a curtain in the wall carrying a tray in one hand and a small stool in the other. As usual he was quick in his work, and he set the tray on top of the stool between where Lyra and Brenner sat. He handed a steaming mug to Lyra first before offering the gin to Brenner by holding the stem and bottom of the glass. Through the rounded, bowl like glass several fruit slices could be seen floating in the mixture which was faintly sweet.

With a wave Lyra dismissed the half elf who turned and disappeared behind the curtain once more. Lyra watched after him while holding the mug in two hands to warm them. Her expression had sobered, and glancing at Brenner she asked him a simple question.

"What sort of witch do you think I am?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner chuckled for a moment until the laughter faded to a churlish smirk- stark in the gaunt features of his recently dilapidated visage.

"If I didn't know any better, Madame Lyra, I would think you were flirting with me..." His eyes darted to the curtain and his smile fell like a final act curtain at the ring of that bell and the return of the half-elf. As welcome as gin might have been, he'd been enjoying the moment of intimacy... the flirtation and the odd camaraderie that was beginning to burgeon between these strangest of bedfellows: The Zaichaeri zealot and the wily witch.

"Well..." Brenner's eyes followed Salem off and lingered a pregnant moment longer upon the curtain that gently swayed in the wake of the man.

"I'm hardly an expert on such things, but if I were to guess..." His gaze shifted to fall upon her. His lips pursed as they roamed her form- surveying and appraising, as if seeking evidence to support whatever thesis he was cogitating.

"You are... a captivating creature, Lyra, in a way that most women are not. I would not be surprised to find there were charms to your charms." He punned with a gentle smirk, "That the allure of you was more than nature endowed." He leaned slowly forward to close his grasp around the gin glass.

"Are you the sort of witch who plies minds to do your bidding?" He wondered aloud, "Who dances through their minds and bends their wills to match your own?" He clucked his tongue, before taking a long, fortifying sip of the spirit in his tumbler. "I suppose that ought to trouble me, if it be true, but it doesn't..." He tilted his head, looking at her from a new angle.

"But perhaps that's all just part of the enchantment." He took another gulp of gin- quicker, but no less copious.

[Lyra]

It was not an answer Lyra had expected, and it showed for a moment when she quirked an eyebrow. She did not attempt to deny the guess, but she did take a sip of her wine before speaking.

"For one who professes to know little of magic, detest it even, your instincts are quite terrifying." Lyra crossed her legs and set the cup on one knee, hold it with one hand still as she passed the other through the steam that circled up from the rim, "I take insult though that you feel my charms are magical and not simply my own."

Despite her words she did not appear insulted at all, but she did eye Brenner with new found respect. It was not something she had expected from the man given their past conversation. The strength of his disdain for all things magical lead Lyra to believe he would be blinded to the truth even if it stood and stared him square in the face. It seemed her assessment had been false, but was that due to a misjudgment of his character or had something changed? Something more than just physical?

She still wore the spectacles and once more she looked through them at the knot of something that wrapped the man's heart. Could it be due to that? Or was it simply coincidence born of desperation?

Lyra took the spectacles off with her free hand and slowly closed them before making them disappear into one of the pockets of her robes.

"Were it so simple, but minds are not so easily bent. The strong willed such as yourself are especially difficult, as they often notice the more direct attempts." She still did not deny his words, but out of habit she did not directly admit that he was right. Still she spoke more openly than she normally would, "It is not minds that are manipulated, but rather the symphonies of thoughts and impressions that whirl within the soul. Everyone is made up of music that I can hear, and from time to time those melodies can be shifted to come in tune with something I desire."

It was a poetic, round about way of affirming his suspicions, but even that made Lyra shift uncomfortably, "Those of my talents are often mistrusted even by mages, but take my word if you can that my charms are still my own. I suspect if I were to attempt overt magics you would notice, for those who are clear in who they are and what they desire are the most difficult to touch."

Taking a long drink Lyra composed her next words carefully, "That is the only sort of direct magic I can perform."

Lyra stared into the light of the brazier, brows knitting together in a troubled expression, "I mentioned before that I understood, had experienced what acts of unrestrained magic can cause. Long ago I was subject to a form of ancient ritual that is truly barbaric in nature." She paused, anger and other less discernable emotions crossed her features, "It failed in a terrible way, and I was stripped of parts of me that I could never get back. Because of that I can never gain another cardinal rune."

Anger bleed into hate before her expression smoothed and she looked up at Brenner, "Though it was terrible, the experience showed me what magic is like in the hands of those who do not deserve it, who misuse it. I have dedicated myself to understanding magic in all its forms."

She nodded to herself, glancing out at the courtyard and then back, "I am the last of the Dinor'afiel, those who document and connect all forms of magic together. I am one who captures and controls and contains magic, and directs it with form and purpose. I tame the wild aether and walk the path of archmages of old, for I will never allow the atrocities of the past to repeat themselves." She let that sink in while she drank once more from her cup.

"I am a witch who can use all known forms of magic not connected with a Cardinal rune."

Mesmer, the rune of magic that Lyra did possess, was perhaps the least defining trait of Lyra as a whole as she was now. That was what she attempted to convey. She was a mage who could use every known form of world magic, and connected them together in new ways. She was proud of what she had done, but she knew that the man before her would not find that a redeemable quality. She needed him to prepare himself to accept what she was in more than just words. She was the embodiment of what he, and Zaichaer, despised, yet she had come to him. Whether or not Brenner could accept that would determine where their relationship would go from here.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner arched an eyebrow at Lyra's earnest response. In truth, his guess had been borne more of his flirtatious mood than any sort of measured assessment. He really had no idea what sort of magic she plied, but with the way the conversation had been tending, he was inclined to insert a dash of flattery into his hypothesis. In implying she was preternaturally captivating, he was tacitly suggesting that her allure was so consummate as to be literally enchanting. In the likely event that she did not, in fact, wield such magicks, the compliment would have only been more potent. He was genuinely surprised at a response that he immediately took for confirmation.

"Fascinating..." It was nice to hear that his will would not be easily bent. Of course he wanted to believe that, and his own experience actually supported one of her suppositions. Brenner had, in fact, been manipulated by Mesmer in the past. He didn't recognise the effect straight away, but as it persisted he became aware of what was happening- And what an odd sensation it had been. A bit like knowingly making bad decisions whilst inebriated. Or perhaps it only felt that way because he had been, in fact, inebriated at the time when the odd Siltori woman dipped into his soul and muted his sense of duty to the State, so she could abduct a visiting diplomat right out from under him. It was odd to think that was the same night he'd actually met Lyra... Or at least seen her from afar whilst she interacted with the prince and his purloined pup.

He shifted uncomfortably, averting his eyes, as Lyra elaborated on magic and her relationship with it. His gaze, like hers, rested upon the brazier.

"Perhaps it is for the best that you were..." He fished for a word that captured his intended meaning, "...gelded, in this way." He pursed his lips,

"I am certain our relationship would have been very different if your body was a gallery of runic representations, and... Well, I wonder whether you would have come to the same conclusions about the state of the world if you were not limited thus. I am limited, of course... Far more so than yourself, as I practise no witchcraft of any fashion. I think such a state grounds a person..." He trailed off.

"I wish you would find a way to lead your life without all the... superfluity, but for the moment it may be what I need to recover from this malady, so..." He sighed, "For survival's sake, I must bend my scruples temporarily."

[Lyra]

"Perhaps it was for the best." Lyra agreed softly, but her eyes did not match the indifferent tone, "I can hardly remember what it was like, to be whole."

It was not just of her past that she spoke. She was starkly reminded that she was a broken creature, barely stitched together by the magic that had caused the damaged in the first place. Her mind was flayed such that whenever she escaped this physical body she began to forget herself. Was that due to the shattering of her soul after the final battle, or had this been how she lived for centuries? Steadily losing parts of herself over the years until she became a mockery of life itself. Lyra wasn't sure, and she disliked the feeling that came with that sort of uncertainty.

"Sometimes I do wonder what it would have been like," She admitted slowly, but shook her head, "But musings on what could have been are best left in the past."

On the tray was a small bowl of dried fruits and nuts, an odd choice for the season, but Lyra plucked one of the nuts up and held it between her fingers for a moment before popping it into her mouth and chewing slowly.

"I... am grateful for your understanding in this. I know it is not easy for you, but sometimes life calls for drastic actions." Lyra settled back into the soft cushions of the chair and recrossed her legs, relaxing as the conversation began to shift away from the topic of the past, "I do not ask you these questions without cause or reason of course. Where we must is the home of my craft, in its totality. It can be... overwhelming even to the trained."

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips then, "But we have time enough for that. You should enjoy some of the hospitalities I can offer before that. Tell me, does Zaichaer have open air baths?"

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner furrowed his brow.

"Do you think an inability to bear certain Runes makes you incomplete?" His lip curled up in a snarl of distaste at such a perverse notion. "I would say you are the wholer for leading a life that isn't completely mangled by magic. If life is a little harder, then more's the better because the world is hard. One must struggle and suffer to manoeuvre through it without being crushed." He punctuated his pedantics with a sip of gin.

"No... It is not easy." But that echoed his recent sentiments in and of itself. "But I will brook it out of necessity. If there is aught that falls beyond my comfort, you may rest assured that I will be forthright about it. There are many things I will do to preserve my life... At least long enough to see the seeds I've sewn begin to sprout, but there are limits. I would not damn my soul to save my life." His gaze followed Lyra's hand to the bowl of snacks and back up to her lips. He had no appetite for the moment. Lately he'd been vacillating between hungerless and ravenous.

"I... don't honestly know. If we have them, I can't say as I've ever partaken. It may surprise you to learn this, given the way we concluded our last meeting, but I am rather a reserved person." He wasn't comfortable with public nudity, to be sure, so he hadn't gone out of his way to seek out open air baths in his fatherland.

"It certainly isn't a common thing in the Fatherland, if it exists at all. I am not surprised to hear Kalzasi would boast such... immodest pastimes. Whatever the case, in the interest of cross-cultural relations, I will set aside my inhibitions if you wish to introduce me to the concept."

[Lyra]

He was a child angry at something he did not understand, unwittingly throwing dirt into a wound that had never closed. Lyra knew that, but Lyrielle burned deep inside. She said nothing though, for he was right. Runes of magic were not what would make her feel whole. No, she needed something far greater that mere trifles as those.

On the matter of modesty...

"You, reserved?" Lyra asked with amusement, "I never would have guessed."

The mocking was playful and good natured, but a part of Lyra still seethed. She felt slightly cold, but shook off the condition as annoyance at something so low as a mortal trying to grasp her reasonings.

"Immodest would suggest the activity were explicit in nature." Lyra said as she stood, still smiling as she motioned for Brenner to follow her to the left toward her desk, "Nudity is not immodest, but what many do while nude is quite so. Tell me, have you plans to be immodest with me this evening?"

There was a small door near the back corner away from where her small open office sat, and when she opened it the cold winter air came rushing in. She lead them out into a small enclosure with stone floors. Directly across from the door was a large pool like bath that bubbled and gave off steam that curled into the steadily darkening evening sky. Salem was there, just to the right near the wall with shelves and cabinets, another tray in his hands this one made of wood with small flask of sorts corked with two small, clear cups. Over one arm was a set of towels, dark in color.

"Did you know that in the Dwarven States many business negotiations are done in nude?" Lyra asked, ignoring Salem who kept his eyes on Brenner while his mistress undressed one piece of clothing at a time.

"I am told they have these places deep in their mountains that grow so hot that your blood will boil if you stay too long. Supposedly baring your flesh heightens one's shame, and so you are less prone to make shady deals when all can see your most private places."

The last piece of clothing fell and Lyra looked back over her shoulder with a wink before slipping into the water and sitting along one of the low natural shelfs in the water. Salem set the wooden tray on the water and gave it a gentle push, letting it float and come to a rest just beside Lyra's left shoulder. The butler then collected his master's fallen clothes and set a towel on a rack near the stairs leading down into the bath. He then stepped back and waited for Brenner with neutral expression.

Lyra watched Brenner with amusement while she poured herself a cup of clear liquid.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Ah..." Brenner chuckled, a bit bashfully. "I believe these are a few of our cultural differences starting to reveal themselves. To me, public nudity is inherently immodest. Whether or not sexual activities are undertaken, the undercurrent is there and the, um... Vulnerability, I suppose. Bare to the eyes and the elements, there isn't much one can conceal- Even to a simple... unenhanced human like myself." He smirked slightly. He wasn't so humble as to think he wasn't special, but he imagined in her worldview a person who couldn't practise magic was mundane. He liked to think he might prove an exception to any such assumptions.

"In this state?" The Air Commander looked somewhat taken aback, "I am wasting away... A shadow of the man you met in Zaichaer. I could brook a bit of immodesty when I was fit and toned, but now?" He sighed, shaking his head. He couldn't imagine she or anyone would be attracted to his diminished form.

He rose to follow Lyra where she led, snagging his cocktail en route.

"I... did not know that, no." He wrinkled his nose, "And I rather wish I didn't. Those negotiations must get awfully hairy." He scowled as unbidden images of nude dwarves invaded his reluctant mind. It had never even occurred to him to envisage a Dwarf in the nude, and it begged uncomfortable questions... Like whether their penchant for braids continued below the beard.

Brenner hesitated to undress. He was reserved, that was true, but more than that he was ashamed of his current state. He'd made it plain it was an aberration... an affliction outside the realm of his control. She'd known him at the peak of physical health and prowess, so surely she would understand that this was a perversion of his form, but still...

He slipped his jacket off and began to unbutton his shirt. As soon as he got below the collar and parted it, another symptom presented itself. Set against the bone-white skin of his torso, one could see his veins quite starkly- A dark purple, maybe even black, that was barely concealed at all by the translucence of his current complexion. He set those garments aside and sat to unfasten his boots, glancing up to Lyra's butler. His presence made this all the more difficult. He was handsome, fit and fully clothed. Brenner was sure he was stifling a snigger at his expense even now, though the man seemed to be perpetually smirking about something or other.

He waited for Salem to at least turn away, before quickly dropping his trousers and darting into the relative cover of the water.

"Well. It appears we shan't be entering into any shady deals tonight. That's rather a relief."

[Lyra]

Salem eyed Brenner openly, but did eventually turn his back with a sigh and rolling of eyes. Lyra, however, did not look away. There had been several reasons why she had suggested this change of scenery, not the least of which was simply to see the man unclothed once more, but that was not all. Though she continued to smile, her eyes focused on the man's chest where his veins stood out like violet threads in a tapestry of white. It looked unlike anything she had seen before. The veins looked painful, blackened like corruption or poison, but if so Lyra found it difficult to believe that Brenner would have survived so long. Nearly a season or more?

She sipped on the warm liquid that burned her throat in pleasant way as Brenner slid into the water near her. Salem turned once Brenner was fully submerged and collected his clothes as well before leaving through the door they had entered. Lyra watched him go a moment before focusing on her companion once more.

"You have no need to feel so about your appearance." Though she could hear it clear in his melodies, Lyra did not need the music to tell her what Brenner was feeling in that moment. The shame was written in the way he hurried to hide himself in the water, what might have been considered bashfulness were it not for the visible way the man had changed. Lyra saw it well now just how far he had deteriorated, and it made her wonder ever more what the cause was.

"I do not know what women of your fatherland are like, but I am not one to put great merit in the physical appearance." He still had his cocktail, but still Lyra pushed the floating tray toward Brenner so he could pour himself a cup of the warm liquid if he wished, "Perhaps it is the witchcraft in my veins that draws me to what is inside the flesh, not on its surface."

She could have meant the soul of a man was what she preferred over his muscles, and she did, but not because of the reason one might suspect. Souls were quite useful, especially the souls of those with such strong wills as Brenner's.

She set the cup on the tray and lowered her shoulders below the waters, closing her eye sand resting her hand against the lip of bubbling bath.

"This bath is one of my creations as well." She said absently, "Though it is less magical and more herbal in nature. The waters are treated with infusions of various plants that help heal and rejuvenate one's energy. I developed the recipe myself, though I do use a few scripts to help enhance the effects."

There were indeed some lines of runes along the rocks of the path, and at the bottom beneath the water was several softly glowing stones which were likely dragonshards of some kind, though the steam and bubbles made them difficult to make out.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

“I will grant that I am not immune to a bit of vainglory…” Brenner acknowledged with a different, less stark form of bashfulness painting both face and inflection. He was embarrassed to admit he was vain, but he was not embarrassed to actually be vain. The shame lay in the overtness of the trait rather than the trait itself.

“I am glad you do not find me too revolting to look upon. I know this is… alarming on first glance. If I were not already putting my health in your hands, I’d have spurned the offer of a bath for the sake of my pride.”

Not one to decline hospitality, the Air Commander obliged to accept the new drink in complement to his gin. A sniff preceded a sip followed by a query.

“What are we imbibing?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Ah.” He sighed, “I might have guessed this was more than a simple, natural hot spring. For what is ever simple and natural in Kalzasi?” He said with such a natural contempt it sounded almost convincing in its confident certitude.

In truth, the water didn’t feel to him the way it looked. He knew the water was warm. There were clouds of steam wafting across its surface, but he knew it didn’t feel as warm as it likely was. He’d been running so hot lately. The pallour of his skin made him look like he would easily take to the chill of the Frost season, and yet the strange, dark veins ran hot. His chest in particular felt like a furnace shoveling heat out to his extremities. It was a wonder he wasn’t constantly sweating profusely, but he hadn’t perspired in weeks either.

“Wouldn’t it be a lark if all it took to heal my affliction was a nice herbal bath?” He smiled weakly.