13th of Searing, 121 AS
Location: Ale'Epherium; In Lyra's Lab
The scent of herbs and paper was a comfort. This place, the lab which Lyra had called home for 3 seasons was somewhat of refuge, and if the would outside was chaotic, troublesome, and confusing then this space was her sanctuary. She felt more herself inside this space where all was hers, created by her hand or designed through her instruction. Few knew of its existence, and because of that, it was where Lyra was most herself.
Emma and Rean were working diligently upstairs in the shop. The two, while children yet, were quite talented as Lyra had come to find. They required little of her direct support, and thus Lyra had found herself with more time than ever. This was good, as the pressure of all that had to be done had begun to close in around her, bringing with it a sensation that was so foreign to Lyrielle. A cold feeling like ice in her veins, a tremble in her heart and not her body. Was this what it meant to be anxious? Worried? Uncertain?
So... Think we can really find a replacement for my soul gem?
Lyra looked up from the book in her hands to stare across the warmly lit room, her eyes distant as she considered the question. In truth, it was Naila, not Lyra herself, who had the most to be concerned with if they were unable to find a higher grade dragonshard to replace the one that currently housed Naila's soul. Lyra would lose a convenient body, but the mercenary would simply cease to be.
"Know I not." she began, the old elf looking down at the human hands that were not really her own. She slowly curled the fingers, inspecting the skin, Naila's skin as she was not holding the illusion of Lyra's human form. Naila did not reply, and they sat in silence for a time.
Once more Lyra looked up and across her lab. She studied the wall of shelves that housed plants and herbs of differing varieties. She lingered on the door to her Necromancy lab, and beyond that the entrance to the artificing lab. Was there nothing that she could do? Was it simply a matter to leave to fate? To the gods? The thought made Lyra frown and her eyes shifted focus to the room in which she currently sat. The long table in the center of the room supported numerous bottles, tubes, and other glassware made for alchemy. The instruments had a slightly green tint to them, evidence of the Lyrethillium which made up most of them.
"What is a soul?"
What?
"What is a soul?" Lyra repeated. Setting the book aside she stood and walked toward the long table of glassware. She ran her hands over the smooth glass, her fingers picking up the slight edge of the carved sigils in the surface of some of the glass.
I... guess its, you? A person? The confusion was evident in Naila's voice as she shifted within the soul space, coming alive just slightly and peering where Lyra's eyes were focused.
Lyra picked up one of the round bottom flask and held it up before her eyes. On its surface was drawn a series of pictographs, but at the center was a sigil. The Sigil of Stabilization. Like all pictographs this one was unique, and as she often did Lyra had taken the time to modify the design just slightly. Alchemy, though, had been around before even she was born into the world, so there was little she could think to improve upon. In any case, it was not the sigil itself that drew her attention, but what it represented.
"Thoughts, memories, emotions. The astral form that puppets the physical, the well of power which is used by the body and magic. For some, there is a connection to lives past, and others a dormant link of divinity, or the eldritch." Lyra turned the flask over a few times in her hand before setting it down and picking up the next. This one was thin with a flat bottom, intending for something to be used to seal off the top. The sigil on its surface was simple and made a swirling pattern that wrapped the entire container. The Sigil of Dormancy.
"It is complex, intricate, yet highly adaptable. It will grow or shrink to fill whatever container it is in, especially if there is the influence of divine or rune magic. Yet there is a limit." Lyra tapped a finger on her chest, over her sternum, "For a Soul, size and shape are inconsequential, yet the strength of that soul limits what can be used to contain it. This is in part what the Pictographs of the Soul Gem accommodate. For this reason a great and powerful soul, something less than divine mind you, can be housed in a soul gem created from quartz or emerald."
Ok... There seemed to be some comprehension from the mercenary, though her melodies were mixed and difficult to read, But my soul gem you said was made from a dragonshard right? How come it cracked if the picto-whatevers are mean to make the soul gem strong enough to hold a soul like mine?
"It seems to contradict traditional thinking, which is perhaps in part why I made such a grievous mistake." Lyra picked up two more pieces of glassware, each with a Sigil of Catilyzation and Isolation etched into their surface, "What I had not considered was that the power of a single soul is dependent upon the skill, and experience, that the soul itself has come to acquire. A Soul gem may be able to contain that single soul effectively... But when you add a 2nd soul, there is a paradigm shift."
Lyra closed her eyes and slipped back into the soul space. She floated there, elven and surrounded by black smoke in a world of grey and white. Below her, Naila sat on the mental representation of her soul gem.
"This place, it is artificial." Lyra waved to indicate the space in which Naila and Lyra both inhabited. "I created it as a place where 2 souls could interact with one another, and thus both you and I are represented here. The Core is what maintains the space, yet still there are 2 souls that must intermingle for it to exist."
Naila frowned and straightened after recrossing her legs into a more comfortable position, "I still don't get it. What does that have to do with why my soul gem cracked? There is still just one soul in it, mine."
"True." Lyra floated down to stand just before the large purple gem. She placed a hand on its surface, and there was a faint line of electricity that passed between them, "Yet I am able to interact with it, with your soul. We exist along the same pathways, and so the pictographs try to compensate for the presence of not one, but two." She paused and glanced over her shoulder at the rounded aetherite shard that rested in the center of the world, "Three, actually, as there are some rudimentary thoughts within the Core as well that must maintain this place for us to interact as we do."
In the silence that followed Naila stared blankly into space. Her expression was tight, seriousness that bordered on anger crossed her features before she relaxed and laid back on her gem.
"I had not considered the ramifications of souls interacting as we do, continuously. Changing places, holding sway over the same body. Because of this, the strain was too great for the pictographs to maintain the stability of the soul gem."
"Basically you fucked up and didn't think things through, and now I'm probably going to die for real if we do not find a stronger container for my soul." The mercenary grunted and stretched, "And there's nothing we can do about it."
Lyra was quiet for several moments as she considered Naila's words. She drifted lazily, her form dissipating and becoming pure mist that spun in slow circles. Was that true? Was there nothing that they could do to prevent the inevitable? Something was there, at the very edge of her thoughts that seemed to refuse to coalesce into something coherent.
"There is always another option." She said, at last, opening her physical eyes as she came from the soul space. Lyra looked across the table of alchemy supplies, toward her other labs, and upwards to the city above. There was something she could do... She just needed to figure out exactly what that was.
Location: Ale'Epherium; In Lyra's Lab
The scent of herbs and paper was a comfort. This place, the lab which Lyra had called home for 3 seasons was somewhat of refuge, and if the would outside was chaotic, troublesome, and confusing then this space was her sanctuary. She felt more herself inside this space where all was hers, created by her hand or designed through her instruction. Few knew of its existence, and because of that, it was where Lyra was most herself.
Emma and Rean were working diligently upstairs in the shop. The two, while children yet, were quite talented as Lyra had come to find. They required little of her direct support, and thus Lyra had found herself with more time than ever. This was good, as the pressure of all that had to be done had begun to close in around her, bringing with it a sensation that was so foreign to Lyrielle. A cold feeling like ice in her veins, a tremble in her heart and not her body. Was this what it meant to be anxious? Worried? Uncertain?
So... Think we can really find a replacement for my soul gem?
Lyra looked up from the book in her hands to stare across the warmly lit room, her eyes distant as she considered the question. In truth, it was Naila, not Lyra herself, who had the most to be concerned with if they were unable to find a higher grade dragonshard to replace the one that currently housed Naila's soul. Lyra would lose a convenient body, but the mercenary would simply cease to be.
"Know I not." she began, the old elf looking down at the human hands that were not really her own. She slowly curled the fingers, inspecting the skin, Naila's skin as she was not holding the illusion of Lyra's human form. Naila did not reply, and they sat in silence for a time.
Once more Lyra looked up and across her lab. She studied the wall of shelves that housed plants and herbs of differing varieties. She lingered on the door to her Necromancy lab, and beyond that the entrance to the artificing lab. Was there nothing that she could do? Was it simply a matter to leave to fate? To the gods? The thought made Lyra frown and her eyes shifted focus to the room in which she currently sat. The long table in the center of the room supported numerous bottles, tubes, and other glassware made for alchemy. The instruments had a slightly green tint to them, evidence of the Lyrethillium which made up most of them.
"What is a soul?"
What?
"What is a soul?" Lyra repeated. Setting the book aside she stood and walked toward the long table of glassware. She ran her hands over the smooth glass, her fingers picking up the slight edge of the carved sigils in the surface of some of the glass.
I... guess its, you? A person? The confusion was evident in Naila's voice as she shifted within the soul space, coming alive just slightly and peering where Lyra's eyes were focused.
Lyra picked up one of the round bottom flask and held it up before her eyes. On its surface was drawn a series of pictographs, but at the center was a sigil. The Sigil of Stabilization. Like all pictographs this one was unique, and as she often did Lyra had taken the time to modify the design just slightly. Alchemy, though, had been around before even she was born into the world, so there was little she could think to improve upon. In any case, it was not the sigil itself that drew her attention, but what it represented.
"Thoughts, memories, emotions. The astral form that puppets the physical, the well of power which is used by the body and magic. For some, there is a connection to lives past, and others a dormant link of divinity, or the eldritch." Lyra turned the flask over a few times in her hand before setting it down and picking up the next. This one was thin with a flat bottom, intending for something to be used to seal off the top. The sigil on its surface was simple and made a swirling pattern that wrapped the entire container. The Sigil of Dormancy.
"It is complex, intricate, yet highly adaptable. It will grow or shrink to fill whatever container it is in, especially if there is the influence of divine or rune magic. Yet there is a limit." Lyra tapped a finger on her chest, over her sternum, "For a Soul, size and shape are inconsequential, yet the strength of that soul limits what can be used to contain it. This is in part what the Pictographs of the Soul Gem accommodate. For this reason a great and powerful soul, something less than divine mind you, can be housed in a soul gem created from quartz or emerald."
Ok... There seemed to be some comprehension from the mercenary, though her melodies were mixed and difficult to read, But my soul gem you said was made from a dragonshard right? How come it cracked if the picto-whatevers are mean to make the soul gem strong enough to hold a soul like mine?
"It seems to contradict traditional thinking, which is perhaps in part why I made such a grievous mistake." Lyra picked up two more pieces of glassware, each with a Sigil of Catilyzation and Isolation etched into their surface, "What I had not considered was that the power of a single soul is dependent upon the skill, and experience, that the soul itself has come to acquire. A Soul gem may be able to contain that single soul effectively... But when you add a 2nd soul, there is a paradigm shift."
Lyra closed her eyes and slipped back into the soul space. She floated there, elven and surrounded by black smoke in a world of grey and white. Below her, Naila sat on the mental representation of her soul gem.
"This place, it is artificial." Lyra waved to indicate the space in which Naila and Lyra both inhabited. "I created it as a place where 2 souls could interact with one another, and thus both you and I are represented here. The Core is what maintains the space, yet still there are 2 souls that must intermingle for it to exist."
Naila frowned and straightened after recrossing her legs into a more comfortable position, "I still don't get it. What does that have to do with why my soul gem cracked? There is still just one soul in it, mine."
"True." Lyra floated down to stand just before the large purple gem. She placed a hand on its surface, and there was a faint line of electricity that passed between them, "Yet I am able to interact with it, with your soul. We exist along the same pathways, and so the pictographs try to compensate for the presence of not one, but two." She paused and glanced over her shoulder at the rounded aetherite shard that rested in the center of the world, "Three, actually, as there are some rudimentary thoughts within the Core as well that must maintain this place for us to interact as we do."
In the silence that followed Naila stared blankly into space. Her expression was tight, seriousness that bordered on anger crossed her features before she relaxed and laid back on her gem.
"I had not considered the ramifications of souls interacting as we do, continuously. Changing places, holding sway over the same body. Because of this, the strain was too great for the pictographs to maintain the stability of the soul gem."
"Basically you fucked up and didn't think things through, and now I'm probably going to die for real if we do not find a stronger container for my soul." The mercenary grunted and stretched, "And there's nothing we can do about it."
Lyra was quiet for several moments as she considered Naila's words. She drifted lazily, her form dissipating and becoming pure mist that spun in slow circles. Was that true? Was there nothing that they could do to prevent the inevitable? Something was there, at the very edge of her thoughts that seemed to refuse to coalesce into something coherent.
"There is always another option." She said, at last, opening her physical eyes as she came from the soul space. Lyra looked across the table of alchemy supplies, toward her other labs, and upwards to the city above. There was something she could do... She just needed to figure out exactly what that was.
