The Stuff of Dreams [Hilana, Sivan]

[Sivan]

Sivan got the sense that they had been talking about him while he was gone, but he knew Torin thought the world of him and Hilana could have gotten any number of competent summoners in Solunarium to initiate and train her and yet here she was. One might call him insecure, but he wasn't an idiot.

He smiled and wasn't bothered that Torin magicked his mead to a more palatable temperature for him. The honey was a gift from the hive, and the mead was part of how he used the excess honey they produced so it wouldn't go to waste. Much of the rest was used for tea and such.

"You are kind to say so," he said to Torin. If the mead was good, he had some skill and the rest, he supposed was the labor of love that was its own sort of witchcraft. He communed with the bees. They shared their bounty in gratitude for his care and protection. He alchemized it in his kitchen, fermented it in his basement, and brought it back into the light to share with friends. The whole property was steeped in his magic, his aether, and so too were his works. A little of himself might have been given away when he shared, but the energy returned to him inevitably.

Every day that Hilana had either used his kitchen to cook or prepared things outside her tent in the tradition of her people, he had offered to help. He knew how little help she would be if she offered the same in his alchemy lab; it wasn't that the thought wasn't appreciated, but it would require more work on her part to tell him what to do than to just do it herself, and so he just made a point to let her know how appreciated her efforts were.

First he glanced at Torin, and then back to Hilana, content to be the first to answer.

"Well, the day was busy, but I cannot complain. Several special commissions are in the works, and while those are in different stages, I mass produce the most commonly sold things so Timon has plenty to sell while I'm away. But I don't normally get bored with repetition; it just frees my mind to think about other things. I will be spending much of the season working on a recipe to prove myself to my old master's students. At least in alchemy. But it is an honor, part of a greater work of magic that requires many mages and many skills. So I have been daydreaming about that as well, and making notes for when I return."

Sivan didn't out-and-out name Silfanore, but she knew. He knew she knew, and she knew he knew she knew, and they had a tacit agreement not to delve into his fatherland given the longstanding grudge between her homeland and the land of his birth.

Then he fell silent, sipping his mead, eyes darting from one to the other, waiting to hear about theirs.

[Hilana Chenzira]

The spirit's tongue flickered out, tasting Torin's scent and aether when he offered the little thread. Sviras wasn't about to climb on him just yet, but he was content to inspect him from the table, looking him over. He seemed like he might have a pleasant way about him, and he likely would eventually want to explore Torin's shoulders, too.

When Sivan had offered assistance, Hilana was happy to have him in there if he wanted to learn. It was the little things that they could learn from each other, and she was always delighted to share her recipes and traditions, the flavours and stories that were passed down from her family and her people. If he seemed a bit tired from the day at work, she would encourage him to relax instead. The young woman had energy and to spare, even with Sviras being happy to take advantage of it. She liked to cook, it gave her a way to give back to her host and teacher, and she could quietly and steadily fill his larder and cold storage with all kinds of goodies. She just had to make a little list of notes or such with instructions for the various jars, and then he would surely be set for quite some time.

And she'd still drop in every so often with a basket of goodies, because whether he knew it or not, he was now part of her food drop off list when she was visiting Kalzasi. Worst case scenario, he had gone elsewhere, and Torin with him, then Timon and Aurin would be getting them.

"It really is fantastic mead," Hilana agreed with Torin's assessment. "Your bees produce wonderful honey." When Torin tucked into his food first instead of speaking up, it sort of reminded her of Raithen, and she was content to listen to Sivan as she added some butter to her selected bun. Curls of steam wafted from the dish and plate, and her big brown eyes were focused quite intently on her Elvish teacher. "It's quite good when you have something you can make out of memory," she agreed. She had done the same with multiple remedies and blends in preparation of coming here for two weeks, and some solutions for her second job as well. She was interested in the concept of being part of a larger work, but she was not about to inquire further.

It was best not to. If it wasn't spoken about, then there was always plausible deniability.

"Today was great," Hilana set her knife down on the plate and pulled off a piece of the roll to dip it in the stew. "We made the buns and while they were rising, we went and visited one of the little parks with a pond, over in the northwestern area of the city. It was a bit cold, but there was some brush for Sviras to go looking through." Cold wouldn't bother the spirit snake, though Hilana would have warmed him up if need be with Elementalism. They could rest assured that no animals they may have found out there landed in the stew - the Vastiana at least kept her cooking to the more 'accepted' varieties of meat when she was cooking for Sivan, and most others outside of her home. "Got the stew on, tagine cooking, and discussed the news of the city with the bees. Then we did some reading after we soaked in the hot springs."

It was strangely leisurely for her, considering the myriad of ways she usually kept herself busy, but she was not complaining. There was a great deal to read, and spending time with Sviras was important.

[Torin Kilvin]

The new spirit would decide what he felt about the smith in its own time, as all the others had.

As they began to eat, Torin began to experience something he rarely had. A burning sensation slowly lit itself in his mouth, moving up towards his nostrils. He cleared his throat several times as he continued to eat, until he couldn't ignore the sensation any longer. Grasping his cup of mead in one tight hand, he pulled the heat from the drink and replaced it with a chill strong enough that the outside of the metal vessel frosted slightly. In a moment, he had finished the now cold mead and moved on to the cup of water that his host had kindly provided him with. This received similar Elemental treatment before being quickly quaffed.

Both drinks provided temporary relief only. Looking about the table, he reached for one of the steaming rolls, eating it in several bites only out of a sense of politeness. The bread helped more, calming the heat inside of him enough that his eyes did not begin watering. That the human was a massive lightweight in terms of how much of peppers and their ilk he could take, but hadn't thought to ask what was in a meal served at Sivan's table. When he realized that his reaction had been noticed, he smiled, and said,

"It's really good." Voice slightly hoarse.

It wasn't a lie, the food did taste good, enough so that he hadn't initially noticed the heat. Careful not to appear to be avoiding the stew, Torin served himself salad and potatoes, trying not to be too obvious as he peered through their contents before digging in with some relief at not finding anything he recognized as spicy. When he could speak normally again, he turned to Hilana and said,

"Did you ever figure out what that place was, that we went? I've looked through many books, but not found anything that explained the doorway."

[Sivan]

Sivan smiled. He was not going to thank her every time she reiterated a compliment, but he tried to accept it as graciously as possible. At least with Hilana, he knew that she had come to know him as an alchemist, then respected his work enough to ask for his help exploring Summoning, and being willing to do whatever he said was necessary to prepare for it properly.

"It does become a sort of dance you know the steps to," he agreed.

While working together in the forge, Sivan and Torin had a habit of letting their auras mingle around the edges. It aided in communication and collaboration, and perhaps that was why he felt heat blooming in the man's mouth and quietly pardoned himself. He was quick about descending once more into cold storage. He returned with a glass bottle of cow's milk, its seal augmented with magic to keep it fresh.

Before sitting, he opened it, poured cold milk into Torin's empty cup, and then sat down once more. It would help him with the heat. There were some hot peppers in Kalzasern cuisine, but Timon did most of Torin's cooking and knew how far he could go with experiments if he wanted it to get eaten.

Not commenting on it, he picked back up with the conversation.

"The bees are little gossips." He laughed. "But happy bees mean happy honey and happy mead."

He raised his tankard and quaffed a bit, a bigger draw than normal, but for the sake of theatrics. And then he was entirely engaged in the food and to hear more about this adventure Hilana and Torin had before he had met her himself.

[Hilana Chenzira]

Hilana was certainly concerned at Torin's reaction - she wondered if she had provoked an allergy in the Runesmith, and once she realized it was just too hot for him, as mild as she had had flavoured it, the alarm subsided. It really was good that she hadn't gone for knock-their-socks-off levels of heat like she might have in Solunarium, the young man might have passed out.

She was about to get him some dairy from the icebox when Sivan beat her to it, and she returned to her seat. "There are no peppers in the tagine," she offered when she saw him looking through it for anything he might not recognize. "I am so sorry, Torin. I will omit the peppers next time." Hilana was apologetic. Mild was apparently too much. Maybe he just had highly sensitive tastebuds. She would have to make two meals next time, just in case, until she could slowly bring up his heat tolerance. He was a smith, he seemed to have embraced Fire, but his tongue was softer than a baby's bottom.

That was okay, she could work with that... but at least he'd probably like the dessert, but with her luck cinnamon would be too much for him. "Drink the milk, it will help," she encouraged him. With enough milk he might well be able to enjoy the stew again, hopefully. Even if he didn't, then at least there was plenty of bread and vegetables.

She did chuckle at Sivan's assessment of his bees. They did seem to be little gossips. She would have to talk with some of the hives that she tended to for Vasilei, and see if theirs were also gossips. They might well be, and perhaps there was something to Sivan's theory. It could also be that he was just that gifted with the natural world and that was what they responded to.

She finished the spoonful of stew in her mouth as she considered Torin's question. "You're going to laugh, but I think it was the Land of Nod. If you remember, we saw sign posts that said 'The Palace of Plenty'... which is Myshala's realm," the usually cheerful girl was quite solemn at the name of the Mistlord. She remembered Her, alright, remembered the spiders, remembered the way She had looked at her, remembered everything about that encounter that she had had with Her. "I was actually doing some research in a library here about Her for a friend of mine, and one of the lorekeepers said that the Palace of Plenty was thought to be near the Land of Nod. So while we were definitely awake when we visited that festival, I think that that's where we were. The other side of the Palace is the Aetherial Sea, and we definitely weren't in that."

[Torin Kilvin]

The smith was embarrassed that his discomfort had been noticed, but he was grateful for the aid offered. Giving Sivan a thankful look, he sipped the milk, letting it pool in his mouth and absorb the spices before swallowing and sipping more. It was a process, and one he was more than happy to be distracted from by conversation.

The suggestion did take him aback, but only for a moment. His wide-eyed assessment settled into a pondering interest as the Vastian woman laid out her supposition. There was something there, behind the name of the goddess, not reverence but a sort of respect bordering on fear. Not an incorrect reaction to have to a deity, if not the one Torin would have had towards his. Then again, Myshala was not Hilana's goddess, not unless he was very mistaken in what he believed about her homeland.

"Oh?" He asked, taking an experimental bite of the potato dish and letting the full flavor of it be chewed and swallowed before taking another. It was different, but it didn't set his mouth on fire and he thought he quite liked it. "What sort of research, if it isn't secret?"

Some of Torin's own research was, if nor secret, not something he would want to share with the majority of people who might ask about it. All magic was dangerous, and magic associated with gods always more so. The idea of a portal that had appeared in many places at once and transported people to the Land of Nod while awake was certainly the sort of experience that stories were made of. It made him wish he had sought out books instead of sweets and entertainment. One could not always be practical, especially when one believed one must be dreaming, but it still felt like an unknown loss.

"I'd love to read whatever book the lorekeeper got that from." He made a mental note to ask Lady Kala, upon whose patronage he was allowed to explore the more restricted libraries in the land, if she knew more. Well, if she knew more and was comfortable sharing it. Torin was not looking for information of which only the gods were privy. Being known to one such was enough, maybe more than enough, for him.

[Sivan]

Sivan didn't fuss over Torin. His friend was a grown man, so he offered him the remedy and let him apply it. In any case, Sivan wanted to keep eating, though he was a grazer, and sipped at his mead while they conversed.

"I wouldn't laugh unless I knew it was a jest," he promised, serious but not overly so. "There are dreamwalkers, though they are decidedly rare."

He didn't mention the dreamweavers of Sol'Eilran, but he also didn't know if she knew any particular details about Sol'Valen that weren't from ages ago when her overlords broke with the Hytori homeland. Sivan didn't know whether the children of Good King Ailuin were being trained in that discipline. From what he understood, it required only knowledge and tools rather than a Cardinal Rune, but most of what he knew was theoretical.

"I am not an expert, but I don't recall hearing about portals to Nod. But... well, through scrivening and such, all manner of things can be done with magic, I suppose. And then there are the dragons of the diamond flight... I have always heard they live more in Nod than on this plane."

As for the Stitchmother, he made a gesture older than memory, a primal propitiation of an unknowably powerful force. Whereas the Dragon Gods' good favor was more likely to be earned by good action—if They noticed one at all—while the Mistlords, well, They were honored more to stay far, far away from Their bad graces.

Erring on the side of good manners, he didn't ask for anything Hilana didn't feel compelled to share about the Mistlord. There were different theogonies, and he didn't know which one was considered canon with regard to Ugrimal and Streleon, now Varvara and Avaerys. Better to be silent and be counted a fool than open one's mouth and prove it, he supposed.

He had met a priest of Thiovan, but he didn't think Hilana would deign to speak to Ailuin Sol'Eilran.

[Hilana Chenzira]

She knew she had to keep a good chunk of what happened at the Crystal Tree and the Crystal Tower a secret. She was not supposed to talk much about it as the Vigilia Magna - it was best to keep things close to the vest, lest she find herself in the eyes of those she would not want to be in. But this was Torin and Sivan; she was certain that she could tell them a little bit.

"I met the Stitchmother once," Hilana admitted. "Under very strange circumstances. You see, in Solunarium, information about the Divine Pantheon outside of Varvaerynism is extremely restricted and possessing books and scrolls about other gods is effectively apostasy." It did not matter that she was a True Believer when it came to the Founders. She was not someone with enough importance to have such materials or get easier access to them within Solunarium without facing rather intense scrutiny. It didn't matter that she wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone there; it was restricted for a reason.

She had a bite of her stew, having pinched off a chunk of bun to dip it in before continuing. "I was looking for information about what might, well, work for a Bargain with Her, something that She might be really inclined to like and want in exchange for something very important that was Bargained away. Kalzasi is much more open in terms of worship, and so we visited the temple archives and spoke to the lorekeepers there. Her name was Ai-Linn, the one I spoke with." Another bite of stew and bread, and a sip of mead. Oh, Founders, that was good.

"But you're right, I've never heard tell of portals to the Land of Nod either, and I don't think those I spoke to about it after had either," Hilana agreed with Sivan. "They couldn't really explain it to me any more than I could explain it to them. But that's my best guess about where we were. Unless it was some weird pocket dimension from Traversion, but that makes even less sense, when you think about it, and that was something I did ask one of my friends that is a Master Traverser. I did see someone else there that I recognized, though he'd since departed Solunarium when that strange event happened. And you found it from here, so I wonder if that theory is right... that there is something to do with those dragons," she nodded to the Elf at the table.

At this point, the Sentinels more or less expected her to get into strange and unusual situations. It was just making sure she didn't bring the strange and unusual back home.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin listened and made mental notes, eyebrows raising and murmuring interested sounds of encouragement as different aspects of the search were mentioned. Had this been a tale told, instead of the sharing of a life, he would have pressed to know what had been Bargained away to a Goddess, and what it was worth to get it back. It was the sort of quest one probably needed companions for, but Hilana surely had plenty of her own close and kin to aid her. Torin would offer his own aid, if it was asked. Even on such a short acquaintance, he felt like he had connected with the Vastiana in that other place, Nod, it seemed, on a fundamental level.

Dipping a finger into his water cup, he began to trace and then erasing ideas for what Scrivening such a portal might entail. Careful never to complete any specific symbol, he met Sivan's eyes, the look promising that they would discuss it later. Torin's ideas always seemed to bloom when he was exposed to new ideas, stretching out to encompass them, connect them with what he already knew, so they could become more. Sivan was his best sounding board, his closest crafting companion, and patient with him as he sorted through his thoughts out loud.

"The magic on the portal felt old and intentionally mysterious, it drew me in, but it didn't feel threatening, even on the deeper levels. Maybe it was a test, or something forgotten. It was fun, though I am glad that I had the excuse of being drawn in."

Blushing faintly, he mentally acknowledged that he had gotten himself into trouble by rushing in to explore unknown magic without bothering to inform anyone of what he was doing. Turning to Hilana, he clarified,

"I have a tendency to explore things I probably shouldn't if they contain unknown aetheric signatures. I guess I got myself into trouble a time or two. So, I'm glad the portal wasn't dangerous, or, at least, we didn't discover anything dangerous inside it."

[Sivan]

Sivan's eyebrows shot up at that. Had he known she had bargained with the Spider Most Elegant, he might not have required that she read up on contract law before he was willing to initiate her. He listened more than he spoke, as was his wont. While he had questions about her religion, he did not ask them lest she take it the wrong way. He knew how he looked.

What he knew of Varvaerynism was no doubt skewed by Hytori prejudices he had been too young to question; even the Dratori distrusted the Re'hyaeans given their disdain for the entire race. He just didn't understand how they could focus all their worship into two Moritasi when there were clearly more powerful, more influential deities, of which Myshala was only one. No doubt there was some nuance lost; perhaps someday he would be comfortable asking. In the meantime, he might see if there were any texts about the religion from within as well as scholarly works from without in the Academy archives.

He nodded thoughtfully when she considered his hypothesis that it involved diamond dragons, though it was only a hypothesis. As for Torin's remark about the age of the portal...

"Well, the older the magic, the more inscrutable. The closer to archmagic." Sometimes he wondered if some of their works approached the edges of old archmagic; certainly, things blended when one worked with multiple runes and multiple disciplines. He didn't even know how to explain the little differences between magical practices that were only sometimes repeatable by others.

Time would tell if Hilana developed the same knack for guiding spirits toward greater self-awareness, but was that due to the person who initiated her, the way he taught her, or perhaps a kinship of spirit?—he didn't know.

Instead, he half-rose to refill cups. If he hadn't done the cooking, he could at least be a gracious host.

They took their time with the food, with the drink, and with the conversation until quite late and Exael noted the hour and Sviras urged his mistress toward her tent. While spirits saw to the dishes, Sivan pulled Torin toward a bed rather than send him home with heavy eyelids and a belly full of mead.

fin.