before the ink is dry

[Talon]

15 Frost 120 Steel

Talon adjusted the strap of the satchel over his shoulder. He looked at the facade of Ale’ephirum. It was a fine enough establishment from the outside, as was to be expected for a business within the Plaza of Jeweled Arches. It was time for one of their regular Scrivening tutoring sessions. Talon had to admit, he was struggling somewhat to grasp some of the greater concepts of what Lyra had, thus far, been trying to teach him. While he understood pictography in the sense that it applied to runeforging, it was breaking beyond the box of that framework that was proving to be a struggle. He stepped up to the door, knocked twice and then entered into the establishment.

Ale’ephirum was a cozy place in Talon’s opinion. It reminded him of the libraries at the Academy and what he imagined the library within the tower of the Circle of Spells looked like. There was a distinctly arcane feeling to the place and it appealed to the scholar in him. Talon would be the first to admit that he did not always have the patience for obscure text or mysterious puzzles that was sometimes required to grasp the greater heights of magic. He was a builder, a crafter, his mind took pleasure in creating things which in and of itself was a fairly straightforward process. All Talon had to do was figure out what components to use in his crafting and then build a bridge between them to make them function appropriately. That was less of a mystical process and more of a mechanical one to him. It required patience and a methodical approach.

Still, the sorcerer in Talon did sometimes enjoy the higher mysteries and the puzzle they presented. It was not as though he were incapable of grasping them when he put his mind to it, he simply found that such things were not where his passions lay.

“Lyra?”

Talon had learned rather quickly that Lyra did not enjoy the use of titles. So he opted to refrain from using them, though his upbringing winced every time he addressed someone he respected as a teacher without an honorific. It would be yet another thing that he had to grow accustomed to. Talon stepped further into the shop, closing the door behind him. He took the strap off of his shoulder and brought the satchel into his hand properly. The gentle chime of glass touching glass announced easily enough what was inside. It was the latest batch of inks that she had requested. They were of the relatively simple sort and thus had not taken long or much effort on his part to create. He guessed that this particular batch was meant simply to help restock some of her more general supplies as opposed to more specialized inks.

[Lyra]

The sound of the bell made Lyra look up from her work. Glancing at the candle on the table Lyra was surprised. Had that much time passed?

Straightening Lyra sighed and stuck her head outside the door of her workshop, calling out as she did.

"Be'melar, welcome. I am in the back room. Set my desk and I will attend them later."

Lyra rubbed a hand along her exposed neck as she turned back to the scrivening workshop, a frown turning her lips down. The shelves and their various supplies were still in order. Inks and parchments of various types and materials lined the walls, and scrolls were stacked in the corner, still in need of some final touches before Lyra would put them out for sale. Along the wall on the right was a long table, atop which were 5 greater dragonshards sitting on metal stands. Pictographs were layered across their surface, and matching designs were on the surface of the table beneath each. This was her station for infusions, where scrolls, and at times, gems would be saturated with aether for various reasons. In a small corner in the back of the room, there was a door of simple dark wood. It was inscribed so that those who looked at it found their attention drift away, and the memory of the door itself would fade as well as they found other more important things suddenly coming to mind to distract them.

At the center of the workshop was a large square table, which acted as the primary area for Lyra's scrivening projects. Today it was completely covered by large sheets of paper of different types and quality. From normal to paper made of aether rich wood, and even a few were alchemically infused with different properties. Upon each was a similar design with minor tweaks. A large circle whose primary ring was made of braided cords that linked together and spiraled inward to a smaller circle with a diamond inside. Extending away from the outer ring was a set of stylized tree-like glyphs with branches entwining to form a 3rd, larger circle. The roots of the trees reached inward toward the center of the design, forming hand like shapes as they reached and grasped at the lines that flowed inward. Smaller pictographs were formed in the shapes of fireflies that flew in twisting patterns between the trees. For those who recognized it the design was based on the Circle of Minding found in artificing. The roots of the trees were used to manipulate aether passed inside, while the trees added an additional layer of containment around the circle. The trees, along with the fireflies, however, served a secondary purpose. Notes of mesmer, aligned to connecting and understanding were woven deep into the glyph itself. There was a 4th and final ring of star-like designs around the circle in its entirety, their tails becoming making up the last barrier. The more one looked at the stars, however, the more details there were to find until they became too small to make out. Lyra had worked tirelessly on these, as these pictographs were meant to hold the smallest piece of the concept of the world, of space, or mind.

There were smaller circles that surrounded each of the larger ones. These were simpler in design and were formed out of the branches of the trees of the main circle. They passed between the stars, yet several fireflies like designs flew and crawled along these as well. This was where the mage would connect with the circle.

Though the design was based on the circle of minding, when looked at as a whole it was... slightly off. The large glyph gave off a deeper resonance, almost like a heartbeat if Lyra concentrated hard on it as a whole. In many ways it resembled some of the more complicated scripts in necromancy focused on containing and controlling powerful souls, yet the focus was more on the housing and nurturing of such things than the domination of them. Still, despite how close she was, Lyra knew there was something missing.

The table was cluttered, covered completely by her current obsession, and vials of dozens of different types of ink were lined along one side of the table. Different writing utensils were present as well, from those of bone to wood, and of course more traditional feather quills, inscribed and not having a representation here.

As Talon came into the workspace he would find Lyra standing with one hand on her hip, the other lightly stroking Artur's head who was as always sitting peacefully on her shoulder. She had just retouched her tattoos, and a few additional designs were present around the eyes and along the hairline. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, the telltale sign that she was focused on the problem at hand.

"You can make a space for yourself at that corner." Lyra said, eyes still focused on her work as she waved to a not quite as crowded section of the table, "Infused ink is on the top shelf as always, and we will continue to use the common stock paper for now. Begin your practice scripts, and we will begin once you are complete."

Today's lesson began as always. Lyra had Talon start each and every session by practicing the basic pictographs required for nearly every act of scrivening. She did not care if they were stylized or personalized, she only required they serve the purpose. The vortex, the concentration, the pathways, and any combination Talon knew that he commonly utilized. She would ensure the foundations of scrivening were drilled into his head, even if it killed him.

[Talon]

Lyra’s voice drifted to him as he walked into the interior of the shop. He followed the sound of her voice, walking through the shop. Talon’s eyes passed over the shelves, taking in the sight of the numerous tomes along with wooden wands and inks appealed to the sorcerer in him. How many days had he sat behind a desk penning schematics for one of his latest enchantments? He shook his head smiling to himself as he mused on the image. Talon stepped into the back of the shop entering Lyra’s scrivening workshop. Upon entering the workshop, Talon was not surprised to see Lyra bent over one of her latest projects. Sprawled in front of her were a series of dragonshards. Drawing upon his semblance, Talon let his aetheric vision take hold. Based simply on the aura alone, Talon could tell that they were of the greater quality. Seeing the many circles that were drawn about the surface of the pages that Lyra was observing drew a slight quirk of his brow.

Talon’s gaze passed over the many sheets of paper, noting that some of them were heavily infused with aether. The inks sitting around the table were all varied in their level of aether infusion. He had to wonder what had drawn her obsession so closely. Talon knew that she was a necromancer but the shapes and diagrams that were strewn about across the surface of her workbench did not appear as though they were devoted to necromancy. At least, he did not think so.

Lyra herself was focused almost completely on that which was in front of her. Her snake, Artur, was perched on her shoulder as she scanned her latest project. Hearing her instructions, Talon set the latest batch of inks that he had created for her in their appropriate spot. He then walked over to the corner where space was still available. Grabbing a few sheets of paper, a pen and some simple inks, he took his place. Dipping the pen into the ink, Talon brought his paper in front of him then set to work. The first symbol that he drew was a simple one. Its function was something that had been versed into him at that point nearly by rote. A simple circle at the center of which rest a triangle. The mirror of his pictographs in its simplest form. From the earliest lessons that Talon could recall, the function of the mirror was an easy one to understand. To absorb and copy the magic that was directed at it.

The more he worked with scrivening, the more he learned as a runeforger, the more he realized that the power of the mirror was far greater than what its simplicity implied. He did not linger on the mirror for very long. Talon drew a set of symbols, each one appearing to be a sigil in and of itself in a script that only the aether sensitive would be able to decipher. He had practiced these symbols again and again for years. Their fundamental purpose was simply to provide a direction for the flow of energy that touched them. Extending the sigils from the mirror, Talon created another symbol that was slightly larger. In his head he could hear Lyra’s voice explaining the importance of the Convergence and the function it served. A focal point for the energies directed at a mirror that flowed through a path, the convergence was something of a constable. It controlled the flow of energy and prevented the structure of the glyph as a whole from collapsing.

Talon had spent years working with such concepts as a runesmith without truly understanding the extent of their efficacy. He was not oblivious to the fundamentals of their function but it was only when Lyra pointed out the gaps in his understanding that he grasped the extent of his deficiencies in learning. Talon dipped his pen into the inkwell once more, he created another set of symbols forming a second path extending away from the mirror. He brought the two paths together, centering them on the convergence and then moved on to creating a secondary mirror.

Talon continued this, until finally he ended with a vortex. The vortex was something that Talon was very familiar with in terms of its concept. The need to absorb and redirect excess energy was essential to the work of runesmithing. When he finished, there was a glyph on the paper that, while simple, served a rather important purpose of absorbing energy and copying the function of that energy while balancing its distribution.

“For your review, Ale’fira.” Talon slid the sheet of paper toward Lyra so that she could look at it.

[Lyra]

She was close. She could feel it, sense it like a beast senses a storm before it appears. The more she stared the more she felt she was nearing some culmination of all of her past experiences with the schema. Lyra had almost forgotten this feeling. That moment right before the end of a project, when the frustration and impossibility of the task peaked. There in that moment of pure scholarship was a sensation that nothing could match, not even the pleasures of the flesh. Lyra longed for that feeling, that sudden understanding and comprehensions that snapped everything into such perfect clarity that one questioned why it was you missed it in the first place. Her gaze could have seared a hole in granite then as she stared as if she could force the epiphany by shear willpower alone.

Talon's voice snapped her out of her meditation, and she blinked. Both she and Artur turned to look at Talon at the same time, and for a moment she stared blankly at the page being extended toward her. Wordlessly she accepted the page and scanned its contents, though her eyes seemed to continue to be drawn to the workbench every few seconds.

"You are much improved." Lyra said absently as she lowered the page to smile at her 'student', "In another 20 years you may be ready to progress to apprenticeship."

Her words were said in a light tone, almost joking if Lyra had been one for such things. She now held the paper limply in her fingers, golden eyes drawn once more toward her own works. Talon had in truth come quite a ways in the short time they had begun lessons. He was, unfortunately, not talented in the scripts. She had said as much before, though his tenacity spoke more for his future than any latent ability ever could. Sometimes perseverance won out over skill.

With a heavy sigh Lyra set the page on the table and pulled up her own chair. From the pocket of her robes she removed a familar pair of aura glasses and placed them on her nose, looking with a frown at the pages on the table.

"Tell me, Be'melar. What do you think a soul is?"

[Talon]

“I shall consider that a great achievement, indeed.” Talon smiled. The humor that gilded his voice said that he took no offense to Lyra’s assessment. The woman had been nothing but honest about her impression of him as a Scribe. He agreed with her assessment. Talon had a basic understanding of what Scrivening was capable of. However, his understanding was confined to what was practical and compounded through the lens of a craftsman. It was a much more mundane approach than what Lyra herself was capable of. Given time, he knew that he could achieve a fraction of the impressive feats that the scholar herself accomplished but he was under no illusion that he would ever be a master of the scripts on her level. Still, that would not stop him from learning and seeking to learn.

In the beat of silence that passed, Talon noted that Lyra was distracted. That was a rare thing for her. The woman always possessed such a focused intensity. Her question surprised him but Talon did not delay his response.

“My first response would be that it is aether but that is too simple an approach.” Talon opened his eyes to the world around him in a different way. Touching upon his rune of Semblance, he was given to see the flow of aether and auras that existed at all times, just out of sight. He perceived the aura of the greater dragonshards that Lyra worked with. He watched the flow of power shift between them, following the pathways set for them by the scholar.

“My work as a runesmith has taught me that living things, even pieces of them, are not as simple to decipher as one might think. Living runeforging is one of the most difficult forms of my craft achievable. Meanwhile, necromancers manipulate the living and the dead with apparent ease.” Talon steepled his hands as he thought through the question and his answer. He had seen some of the results of his mother’s work as a necromancer. He had even been on the receiving end of her skill at times when he had been injured.

“My understanding of necromancy is that it is less a direct manipulation of the function and composition of a soul and more a controlling of the outcome. I have seen my mother work with soul gems enough to understand that typically, the necromancer controls what a soul is allowed to do within the limits of what it is already capable of. That would suggest actually manipulating a soul’s structure and understanding its true nature, is more complicated.” Talon shrugged his broad shoulders. The wings across his back lifted and settled in tandem with his movement. He always enjoyed conversations with Lyra. She made him question what he knew. More, she made him question what was possible.

“In short, Ale’fira, I do not know. You might seek out Raella or Wraedan themselves to get the answer. I can only think of one mortal who might have ever gotten to the bottom of what exactly a soul is and how to explore it.” Talon chuckled lightly and shook his head.

[Lyra]

Lyra smiled wistfully, "Neither would speak with me and now I suspect they would be less inclined than ever."

Long ago, in the age of Dreams, Lyra recalled seeing both at one point or another. She had never spoken to them of course, that was not her place after all. They had seemed so much... more, and Lyra suspected they would indeed be able to answer her question. Equally, she knew that should they find her, they would remove her from existence.

Removing the glasses she looked over to Talon, about to speak before she hesitated. Talon had been a curiosity to Lyra over the past few weeks. His mother aside, Talon was the heir apparent to the ruling family of Kalzasi. He was a masterful runesmith, and his sight was disturbingly accurate. Every time they spoke like this Lyra felt just the smallest amount of unease, for surely he would see through her.

Why should I care? came the annoyed thought, He is just a mortal, and a child at that. What he believes is of less than no consequence to me.

Yet still, she wondered as she did every time they talked. If he knew who she was, what would he truly think of Lyra, his teacher? Would he still see her as she was now, or would he see what she had done in the past? Lyra was not ashamed of who she was, not in the slightest, but the smallest part of her soul seemed to enjoy the odd dynamic they had developed. It was comfortable, familiar in a way Lyra could not explain. She did not wish to lose that.

"The soul is what gives a body life." Lyra said, sitting back and crossing her legs, "I have seen this, and I suspect other necromancers have seen something similar. The absence of the soul from a body causes it to decay, and vice versa should a soul be cut off from the body, yet still, within the body, the body will still decay. Soul Gems much like Dragonshards seem able to produce their own aether, a curiosity since the living still require food and water to live. Should one not be able to simply subsist on the aether produced by the soul?"

Lyra's brow furrowed in thought, and she tapped the folded glasses against her chin, "If we look at the divine, or those close to it, we see that indeed their need for food and drink is greatly diminished, or non-existant in the case of the highest tiered divinity and spiritual beings. If we allow that all beings, mortal and divine alike, are possessed of a soul then this would suggest that there is perhaps a caliber of soul and that caliber determines if the aether produced is enough to subsist on indefinitely. Then does this mean that a Soul, similar to a dragonshard, is linked to the greater aetherium?"

"Did you know, Be'melar, that Artificers are able to take dragonshards, or any gem infused with substantial aether, and imbueune them with rudimentary willpower and directives?" Lyra stood up suddenly, walking around the table and picking up one small green gem. She held it up for Talon to see, and she pressed her thumb on one pictograph in particular. The gem glowed with a faint green light until Lyra released it, "Once those directives are given the newly created 'core' suddenly possesses a simplistic sense of self. I have found that even though traditional means of purging that self-identification cannot be removed from the Core. In other words, artificers are able to create what can be classified as synthetic souls."

The more she spoke, the faster her words became, a glint of excitement in her eyes as she looked at all of the pictographs and drawings on the table, "I have heard it said that without a soul there is no self. That which we call us is what our souls have defined us to be. Runes that are taken by a mage change a fundamental part of that 'self', and give mages access to abilities that they normally cannot use. True it is said that the aetheric transformation occurs through a process involving filtering through the rune itself, however, for a rune to initiate even that much it must be able to alter the fundamental self to allow for that magic to be possible in the first place. Again this suggests that changes to the soul, or the way the soul identifies itself, is fundamentally possible."

Lyra held up the gem for a moment before tossing it to Talon. Its aether was spent, but the pictographs and the directives inside all were still there. It glowed when you touched that symbol, using the aether inside of it. That was what it was, what it always had been.

"If Artificing creates synthetic souls with a rudimentary sense of self, as defined by the artificer, then one could say that the Core could mimic a soul once it reaches the highest level of mastery. Let's say then that we could, theoretically, change a Core's sense of self, alter its directives after creation. That would suggest that it would be possible to do similar to a Soul, given what we know of how Rune Mages are made."

Suddenly her eyes grew distant as if a new thought occurred to her. She chewed her lip for a moment, speaking slowly, "No, theory is not the word. Have we not seen the raising of divinity? That one could move from mortal to divine at all would mean that Souls ARE mailable, given the right circumstances. What then would allow for that to occur? Is it simply enough power? Directive? Or is there perhaps a historical component? If Souls are of differing calibers, perhaps it is predetermined?"

Her words descended into mutterings before with a shake of her head she rubbed the bridge of her nose and looked at Talon, "You say there is a mortal who would know more of this subject? Who?"

[Talon]

Lyra’s words brought a curious quirk to Talon’s brow. He observed the scholar for a moment but did not press her for more on the meaning of her statement. The Dragon Gods of Life and Death were not known to be unkind or wrathful in particular, certainly not Raella but he was not one to question another on the merits of their faith. What Lyra believed was her business.

“I believe that you are partially correct, Ale’fira. We need only look to the Awoken to learn why. These beings who were never intended to live as mortals but to serve as automatons. They were given true life and sentience following the Sundering, at least that is what I am told. I have only ever met a few. They appeared as machines but were as intelligent as you or I. When I gazed upon their auras it was as complex as any other sentient mortal. They were both incredible and terrifying to behold. Incredible because, by most definitions of what is supposed to be a living and breathing person, they should not exist. Terrifying for the same reason as to many, they are an abomination.” Talon had never had anything but pleasant experiences with the few Awoken that he had ever encountered. They were not a populous people and they did not procreate that he knew of. They had received strange stares and hushed whispers but none in that he had seen had treated them with outright prejudice. Kalzasi was a city that saw far too much weird and unusual to truly be bothered by such curiosities outside of fascination or trepidation.

“The Awoken, it would seem, have true souls but are without conventional mortal bodies. That would suggest that the nature of the soul and its relationship with the body is two-fold. Perhaps there is something to the belief that a soul is made for a body and the opposite is just as true.” Talon shook his head. He stretched one wing, brushing his fingers through the feathers so that he could comb them. They were soft, despite their near metallic appearance. In some ways, Talon was extremely proud of them. In others he was self-conscious about them. They marked him. He was, among all the Avialae of Kalzasi, almost wholly unique. He knew of only one other Avialae who supposedly bore wings like his own. His maternal grandfather, Briathor IV. Talon had never met the man but he wanted to. His pride came from their uniqueness but his self-consciousness stemmed from the same reason. He was easy to identify because of them, which was not always a benefit.

“The only mortal I can think of to have such knowledge is the maker of my people.” Talon’s fingers grasped a loose feather. He held it up, examining it. “Garel of Atoria. He is as much a mythical figure as any. Some believe he was just a god in disguise but the elders of my people say otherwise. He created us to fight a terrible monster in the South, a monster that, if legends are to be believed, may one day return. To fight it, he forged our souls anew enabling us to create the Bond.”

Talon set his feather on the table before looking to Lyra once more.

“But he vanished centuries ago. Both my paternal and maternal ancestors went in search of him, Synnar and Briathor I. I can tell you there are few records of him in the halls of the palace but there might be something of him at Lau’Dai Xhan, the home of my mother’s family. House Briathos.”

[Lyra]

Lyra's eyes widened.

"The Awoken?" Lyra whispered, her brown furrowing as she stared down at her works. Such a thing was possible? Creature of artificial souls was able to obtain a true semblance of sentience? Sapience? Not merely a mimicry? The implication of that made Lyra look at her work, and for that moment it looked so very... trivial. Trash, irrelevant as the mystery she thought she was solving had already been answered. Hadn't it?

With effort, Lyra shook herself free of the melancholy that suddenly sought to overwhelm her, running a hand over her eyes as she stared tiredly at her work, wondering if she was wrong. Was this the wrong direction?

Her eyes fell on the feather as Talon placed it on the table, and without thought, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. She smiled slightly at the soft feel of it, having admired the color of Talon's wings for some time. Would he be insulted if she made a fine quill from this? Perhaps she would ask.

"Garel of Atoria. Another name I am not aware of." Shaking her head Lyra looked to Talon, and down at the feather in her hands, "Be'melar, the world is filled with far more than one can know in even 10,000 years." The words were spoken sardonically, though her expression was more tired than bitter.

"Forgive me, Talon. My mind is absent today. Perhaps I have spent too much time puzzling the wrong question." She paused, and then looked thoughtfully at her student, "This is the first I have heard you mention this 'Bond'. Can you tell me more?"

[Talon]

Talon could only blink at Lyra as she expressed astonishment at the mention of the Awoken. Truth be told, Talon still did not know much about the woman’s origins. She kept her secrets close to her chest and outside of their more scholarly discussions, he did not know much about her. Had the place she was from been so isolated? It was possible. The Awoken were not a populous people. They were an anomaly and some of them could blend into society seamlessly or were so infrequent as to be considered rare in parts of the world as far as he knew. They certainly were not a common sight in Kalzasi but he had seen a few from time to time.

“The Awoken are or rather, were, constructs created through either alchemy or artificing. I do not know the specifics of what went into their creation. What I do know is that it was only after the Sundering that they were able to gain true sentience. At least, that is how the stories go. If you encounter one, you might ask them. Or perhaps the museum has texts on them.” He shrugged his shoulders. Talon was not an anthropologist. He had an interest in learning other people’s way of life. The differences between the various cultures of the world was something that fascinated him but he seldom had time to simply sit down and reflect upon them.

“I am not surprised that you have not heard of him. He is not a renowned figure outside of my people. He was our maker but even we know little about him beyond mythical stories.” He watched Lyra pick up the feather, twirling it between her fingers. He was silent for a beat or two as he contemplated on how best to answer her question concerning the Bond. Talon folded his hands together, looking down at his fingers.

“When others think of my people, they see us for our wings. They know us to be the flying men from the north or the winged soldiers from the south. Ask any you pass, the first trait spoke of about us will be our wings.” He flexed his own gently before letting them settle back into place. “But that is not what makes an Avialae an Avialae.”

Reaching up, Talon touched his right hand to the space just over his heart. He focused for a moment before a warm glow began to gather there. It started soft until it grew. A silver-white light that shone warmly beneath the palm of his hand. It was bright enough to cause the very bones and veins beneath Talon’s skin to become silhouetted by the light.

“But you ask an Avialae what makes them, and they will tell you it is the Bond. It is a bridge formed between souls. From mine to whomever I choose to bond with.” Talon let the glow fade as he pulled back the connection with a breath. He felt his closest bondmate send a note of curiosity but he soothed it with a mental hug.

“It is a link from soul to soul. Aoren, whom I am certain you have seen around, is more than just my friend and bodyguard. He is my bondmate. What I know, he knows. What he knows, I know. What I feel, he feels and so on. It is a shared life but there are levels to it.” Talon took a piece of paper and a quill. He dipped it in ink and began drawing. He drew a line at the very top of the page.

“Imagine this is the surface of a lake. The first stage of the Bond, the Light Bond, will share only the bare surface level of what is in that lake.” Talon drew another line but it was further below that first line. “The Common Bond goes deeper. We can begin to share rudimentary images, experiences and sometimes intentions between one another.”

Talon drew another line and created yet another level of separation. This one was much further down the page.

“Then there is the Companion Bond. For most Avialae, this is the deepest we will go. We can share some thoughts. Mostly memories, physical sensation, we can moderate each other’s moods, and even defend each others minds from outside influences. This is true of all levels of the Bond but it is especially true for those who share a Companion Bond.” Talon drew a line down to the very bottom of the page creating a final layer.

“And then there is the Core Bond.” He was silent for a few moments as he considered it. “It is difficult to explain sometimes. The line between shared experiences blurs. You are you and they are them but the bridge between the both of you is unbreakable except by choice. Not even abjinurium can block it, or so I am told. It is a joining of souls so tightly that you can communicate telepathically. No part of you is hidden from each other.” Talon shrugged his shoulders as he stared down at his rudimentary drawing. He set the quill down then looked up at Lyra.

“It is why magic that influences the mind and moods is difficult to use on Avialae. It becomes doubly so for those who are in a deeper level Bond. We were created to kill a creature that enslaved the mind and made toys of the soul. If legends are to be believed, that creature was defeated but not destroyed.”

[Lyra]

Talon had her full attention, and Lyra sat near on the edge of her seat as she listened intently to his every word. She had never known that something like he described, was already made possible, and it was innate to an entire race of people? Amazing, perhaps more so than the concept of a construct gaining its own independent thought.

"Light bond," She counted on her fingers as she twirled the feather in her other hand, "Common Bond, Companion Bond and Core Bond."

Leaning forward she watched curiously as Talon illustrated the concepts, growing thoughtful as she absorbed each word like they were water in the desert. When Talon had finished she sat back in her chair, crossing her legs and looking down at the feather she was still playing within her lap. There was something there in the explanation, something she was struggling to grasp, to comprehend. Somehow he had SHOWN her his bond, but that shouldn't be possible should it?

"Can you form a bond with anyone?" She asked then, glancing up at Talon. Standing suddenly she took two steps and stood directly in front of Talon. The spectacles were on her face once more, and she opened herself up to the symphonies. She searched the melodies, scanning deeper and deeper still while staring intently into Talon's eyes, then his chest. With little warning, she reached up and pressed her hand over the spot Talon had previously shown his bond. If he allowed she would riggle her fingers to press beneath clothing to touch his bare skin, still staring like she expected to find hidden answers buried in his flesh.

"You have a... Companion bond with the bodyguard? Contact him now." It wasn't a suggestion, and Lyra listened intently to the symphonies.

"Can you form a bond with me?" She would ask while she waited. It was asked with a neutral tone, but Lyra could not hide the deep-seated excitement in her eyes. Was this what she was looking for?