Legend of Ransera

Kilvin's Forge, Kalzasi
70th of Frost, Year 121 Steel

Kala had come that morning to relieve Torin's lover, having been through an initiation to the Rune of Semblance herself. Her own hadn't had many a hitch, but Torin seemed not to be handling it well. The exhausted redhead had gone to sleep in another room and was going to seek other friends of Torin to help him through, which seemed wise to her. She had brought food, which was packed to keep warm and resting nearby in case he woke up hungry. In the meantime, she was sitting at his bedside, reading from a book. It was an adventure story, purely for pleasure. She spent so much time reading texts and ledgers that this was a relief. He likely couldn't hear her well enough to understand, but she hoped the calm sound of a familiar voice would at least keep his anxieties from spiking while asleep.

She was a bit weary herself. The previous night's party had been a success, though, so she didn't mind being a bit slower than normal. Kaus was keeping an eye on Timon, and she would let him know when she returned home whether it was safe for him to come back to his home. The boy was worried, which was wise; magic could be dangerous. The boy also seemed to trust Torin's lover and the twins, though he had chafed a bit at not being allowed to tend to his master, a loyalty she found endearing.

The young Avialae had her own Semblance activated, both to gauge Torin's state and to shield him from her own Runes, which might confuse his burgeoning new senses. In his sleep, he seemed stable, though there were strange warps to his pattern, as though there had been a cascade of chaos that was only just beginning to correct itself. Apparently, something had upset him; she hoped that when he woke, it would have passed.

"Hm," she murmured thoughtfully as she took a sip of water. Perhaps she ought to try to communicate with the ghost while she was here, the better to prevent another strange phenomenon from upsetting the runesmith.

A part of Torin was there, and a part was somewhere else. She was still learning how to use her Rune of Semblance, so she couldn't rightly say where the part of him that was missing had gone. There were legends about souls wandering the Aetherium until their threshold sickness passed, as if the Rune were so powerful it could send one there before the form of it fully crystallized. She didn't know if that was true, only what she had been told: that something had caused him great upset and then everything had gone downhill.

She could sense the ghost, not quite crystallized enough to throw things around at the moment.

She could sense more of Torin come clawing back, and her eyes rose to his face even as his mouth formed her name, though it sounded like some orison to a Goddess on his lips.

Immediately, she was perched on the side of his bed, her hands holding his.

"Torin, I'm here," she said. "Something frightened you, but everything is all right. You are just a little lost. I am here to anchor you, though."

She didn't know how long he would remain lucid; if it lasted, she might add details about Timon, about his slumbering lover, about what else she surmised about his state. If things didn't improve with time, she would simply find Talon Novalys and ask him to bring Torin back from the Aetherium. It was a good thing to know demigods sometimes.

"Will you drink some water?" she asked.

There was a glass of water on the side table, as well as a mug of tea and a bowl of soup. The latter two, she instantly heated to steaming with coils of Fire. Whatever had been weighing upon him of late had boiled away at his baby fat, and she was worried that he wasn't eating while he was unconscious, though he wasn't burning through fuel at his forge either. Whatever harm she could mitigate, she would, but mostly she was just glad to see him cognizant of his surroundings, and she found her eyes stinging as a little of her worry abated at the sound of his voice and a convulsive squeeze of his strong hand on hers.

It didn't take her training in the Tranquil Gardens to know that getting him to drink water was imperative if he was going to be largely comatose between bouts of waking madness, but if he was lost in the Aetherium as legends spoke of, then what he was saying sent a spike of ice down her spine. There were two problems, but she thought she could handle both. Her Rune masked by Semblance so as not to overwhelm him with more unknowns, she focused on manifesting Water in his mouth—not so much that he would even notice, really, but enough to force him to occasionally swallow what he might register as spit. If she could keep it up, she ought to be able to get a bit into him until he fell back into whatever quiescent form of consciousness was now the norm for him.

The other problem—her eyes narrowed.

"Torin, it sounds like you have found the home of the Lord of Mysteries," she said, trying to balance calm and urgency. Lyren's Apocrypha was said to be the home of many works of forgotten knowledge as well as many secrets that would break the mind of a mere mortal. How much of this was fable and how much was fact, she couldn't say. There were countless things she didn't know and even now she was operating on educated guesswork.

"I need you to turn away from the books. These are not the books you need. Come back to me. Your man is nearby sleeping. Timon is worried. You need to come home."

It was difficult to ascertain whether he was hallucinating or truly walking the Aetherium in that moment, but regardless, her response must be the same. If he was delusional, she had to speak to him as though it wasn't or he would only get more upset; if he was not delusional, then he needed all the more help to escape the Apocrypha with his soul and his sanity intact.

"Show him the safest path home," she said, her voice ringing with authority. She might not be the Lady of Starfall, but she was a lady of Starfall. "Show him the path back to me, to his lover, to his body." Then, more tenderly, "Come back, Torin. That place is not for you; this one is."

Her finger traced pictographs upon his work-roughened hand, and she poured aether into them, although she had no idea if they would work. They were more prayers than anything: desires given shape and form, filled with energy and intention. Return. Anchor. Home. Safety. Sanity. Clarity. Vision. She lit up ideograms even as she tried to will him back, though this was out of her experience. She reached up to brush hair away from his brow, tender as a mother.

Kala could feel Kaus through their core bond, even at a distance. She thought she would feel him even were she lost in the Aetherium. If only she could throw a lifeline into the abyss, into the Mistlord's vasty library to pull Torin to safety, but all she could think for him to do was fight just as any patient struggling in the Tranquil Gardens must—fight to survive.

"Torin," she replied, squeezing his hand in hers. His brow ceased to furrow and he calmed. His aether even seemed calmer, so she hoped that the turbulent patch was past them. She hadn't done anything, really, but if he was in the Aetherium, then it was likely his will was the only weapon and shield he had. If he believed in her power to help him, then it could help him—at least in theory, at least if he didn't run into the Mistlord in Whose dwelling a part of him traveled.

She set his hand back down upon his chest and gave it a pat. Then she put her hand on the linens, pleased to find that he hadn't soiled them. From what she understood, he spoke in a sort of madness, but could be persuaded to eat a little and eliminate where appropriate. But he was so thin, she perched upon the bed and began to feed him manually. She gently pried his teeth apart and spooned soup into his mouth, massaging his throat and ensuring his reflexes took over and he didn't choke. She didn't know how long this was going to last, but he was going to need his strength. The body supported the mind and soul; she would feed the latter now that her voice had guided the latter.

Later, when she was assured that he was sleeping properly, she dared to drink a vial of her ghostwine. She didn't think the ghost was malicious, but the last thing they needed while he was loosed from his soul's moorings was for a confused spirit to try to take the warm flesh that was partially vacant.

The ghost seemed to be dormant, sort of asleep. This was good. Kala spent the time allotted by her necromantic potion to sing a ghostly lullaby to keep the ghost soothed. It was all she could think to do until something changed.

Lore:

Kala:
Surgery:
Spelling Another
Keeping an Unconscious Patient Hydrated
Checking Vital Signs
Calming a Patient in Distress
Using Elementalism to Heal

Semblance:
Observing Threshold Sickness
Shielding One's Runes
Noticing Changes in Familiar Auras
Observing Someone Half Way Between Worlds
Leading Someone Back into Reality

Torin:
Torin:
Semblance:
Processing Alternate Reality
Recognizing A Person By Their Aura Alone
Kala Luekos' Aura
Seeing A Person's True Self
Duel Awareness
Understanding the Difference Between Essense and Form
Surviving The Library of The Lord of Mysteries
Reading Information from the Essense of Books

Points: 10 each, either may use for Semblance

Injuries/Ailments:
Torin is still undergoing his intense threshold sickness, he is growing weaker.

Loot:
Knowledge?

Notes: