Sivan ate fruits and nuts that tasted wild, drank water that carried the particular minerals of their environs. Through them, he tasted—and coupled with his Rune, he Tasted—the Grove. It was another layer of understanding, or at least the journey there. Even with his powerful sembling, it took time and familiarity to truly plumb the depths of a person's aura or a place. He could not encompass the Grove in such a short amount of time, although everything he found seemed to call out to him, a kinship he hadn't known with his Hytori father, nor his Dratori mother and her family. The closest he had found were with his few close friends in Kalzasi, but this was magically augmented. It wasn't even quite the same as when he and Torin let down so many of their barriers to experience true intimacy.
This was based in communion with Spirit—the Wild.
The offer was overwhelming. When the Grove spoke through Sounja, his soul shivered like a leaf on a powerful breeze. But it didn't seek to wrest him from the stalk, but rather to invite him into itself, to be a part of the Grove, the Kindred, the myriad wild and mortal souls that blended, but retained as much personal identity as they wished.
His wild familiars sang with joy and want. Even Exael did not seem displeased at the offer, though he was thoughtful.
Rather than answer, Sivan opened up a part of himself, shared a thread of his communion with the place that had become Home. The cottage that had been like a seed, sprouting high and deep like the trunk of a tree and its roots. The Living Grave. The moon gate that led into Laurevere's yard, finding a happy medium between the wild and his more ordered tastes. The great seed from Ecith. The sun crystal and its altar. The hive. The squealmouse. The subterranean fungi. Yea, even a hint of Rivin, Destyn, and others who spent a great amount of time within his demesne.
When Sounja had had time to digest what he shared, he continued.
"I am inclined to agree," he said, clawed hands making supportive gestures although he wasn't speaking Rivach. "However, I am a summoner and my mind works in terms of contracts, and when it comes to contracts, the terms must be explicit. In order to make a decision, I must know what is expected of me and what I can expect. Is there some Code that the Kindred follow?"
This is Wisdom, Exael agreed quietly. If Sivan bound himself to the Grove, Exael himself would, perforce, be so bound as well.
This was based in communion with Spirit—the Wild.
The offer was overwhelming. When the Grove spoke through Sounja, his soul shivered like a leaf on a powerful breeze. But it didn't seek to wrest him from the stalk, but rather to invite him into itself, to be a part of the Grove, the Kindred, the myriad wild and mortal souls that blended, but retained as much personal identity as they wished.
His wild familiars sang with joy and want. Even Exael did not seem displeased at the offer, though he was thoughtful.
Rather than answer, Sivan opened up a part of himself, shared a thread of his communion with the place that had become Home. The cottage that had been like a seed, sprouting high and deep like the trunk of a tree and its roots. The Living Grave. The moon gate that led into Laurevere's yard, finding a happy medium between the wild and his more ordered tastes. The great seed from Ecith. The sun crystal and its altar. The hive. The squealmouse. The subterranean fungi. Yea, even a hint of Rivin, Destyn, and others who spent a great amount of time within his demesne.
When Sounja had had time to digest what he shared, he continued.
"I am inclined to agree," he said, clawed hands making supportive gestures although he wasn't speaking Rivach. "However, I am a summoner and my mind works in terms of contracts, and when it comes to contracts, the terms must be explicit. In order to make a decision, I must know what is expected of me and what I can expect. Is there some Code that the Kindred follow?"
This is Wisdom, Exael agreed quietly. If Sivan bound himself to the Grove, Exael himself would, perforce, be so bound as well.