[J] Kirkcaldy's Diary +Illusionist: romesilk+

[romesilk]

It was a sunny day in April, and everyone had turned out to the parks to celebrate the first day of real spring, when temperatures had soared to a remarkable seventy degrees. Among the sedate picnics were many joyful people, but none of them could equal up to a certain dog and his owner.

Lixxie had a gleeful smile on. Even the way her pet was carrying on- running back and forth, jumping upon random strangers- couldn't dull her enjoyment of the day. It seemed that everyone could stand to forgive one overenthused giant dog on such a glorious, sunny day! That saved her the mortification of apologizing every time Grim jumped on someone.

A little known fact- Lixxie Lille de Verdelet was a very shy woman. Crowds scared her. But today was such a beautiful day and everyone was so happy that she couldn't help but be buoyed up into joy herself. She bore the running dog with a full-on grin.

Grim pranced ahead of her, then paused. He smelled something not Gaian! Oh, this was SO. COOL. It was his duty as a... whatever-he-was... to investigate this olfactory anomaly! His unfailing nose led him directly to a green-haired man and his red-haired child.

He pounced.

It was by some luck that he pounced on n'Barit and not Kirkcaldy, though luckier still from his victim's perspective would have been Grim moseying right along and not pouncing at all. The former barrigater and the young Illusionary he guarded had just been trying to enjoy a brief rest in a nice, shady park area. N'Barit was always happy to take a seat on the grass and get the weight off his arm and leg when the opportunity presented itself. Kirkcaldy, as much as he loved her, was like a sack of flour. Every few miles it was nice to put her down.

Grim was considerably heavier than Kirkcaldy. The jumping beast would have knocked n'Barit over had it not been for n'Barit's bionic arm. It acted like a prop, keeping him mostly upright against the onslaught, though he still gave a howl of displeasure at the dog's assault. Paws and fur and slobber overwhelmed him and he tried to bat the creature away with his other hand.

Grim would not be batted away, and even the teen at the end of his leash couldn't deter him from thoroughly washing n'Barit's face (and ears, and neck, and just about any exposed skin). He sat back and panted, tongue lolling. Behind him stood Lixxie, paralyzed from sheer shame; it'd been just one lick on her dog-thing's other victims before and it definitely didn't look like this guy was as amiable as the others in the park. It amazed Grim how quickly she'd gone from happiness to the brink of tears.

She pulled her dog back, babbling apologies and excuses. "I'm so so sorry I didn't mean to he's just so happy to be outside and if there's any way I can make it up to you let me know because I will because it's totally wrong of Grim to act this way no other dog I know does this I'm so so very very sorry." Lixxie shoved her glasses up her nose and glanced at n'Barit and Kirkcaldy. Without her dog all over them, she didn't look all that threatening, just frightened- and the dog itself seemed to be quite friendly, judging by the way he allowed her to throw her arms around his neck and cling.

"Woof," he said intelligently, wagging his long tail. Then Grim purred, almost catlike, and licked Lixxie's short hair up into a point.

"Sorry," she said again.

N'Barit just sat there, breathing heavily, staring for a long moment. He did not want to process this. He did not think he could process this. He was covered in sticky smelliness and he thought his head might explode right then and there. He was shaking from the sheer horror of it.

Then, as loudly as he was able, n'Barit swore, "TECHT!" at the top of his lungs. It was one of those yells that drew the attention of everyone for half a mile, that sent birds flying from the trees. It startled Kirkcaldy and scared her so badly she flattened her hands against the towel without any good reason. Even if the word was not intelligible to the masses, the gist of it was.

Completely, totally, n'Barit was terrified and pissed off. The pissed off aspect showed more than the terror. Even in his worst nightmares this did not happen. His nightmares were all about wandering alone in the barren lands and having his limbs cut off. That was bad, but this was worse. He was totally unclean in front of Kirkcaldy to the point where he could not even touch her. His eyes darted to where she was sitting. "Hands up!" he barked quickly, then returned to being horrified at himself and the thing that had done this to him.

Luck, and a little bit of intrinsic skill, brought Lixxie's hand to her ears before the green grenade could go off; her hands formed such an impressive damper against noise she couldn't hear n'Barit shout, nor the teenage kid across the park commenting on the loudness of the shout ("Daaaaaamn..."). She would not have even noticed his second effusion if Grim had not obeyed, placing both paws in the air, knocking her over.

"I'm sorry," she said again, sitting back up and straightening her shirt. "Um... There's, ah... a bathhouse not too far away. If Grim really made you this angry, I could, um, take you there? I'd pay, of course. I feel really bad about... this..." She gestured at her dog and placed his paws back on the ground, quickly smacking him on the back of the head.

Kirkcaldy watched n'Barit with plain concern, never having seen her guardian quite like this. It was scary, but she did as she was told and lifted her hands, stunned. She wanted to somehow help n'Barit, but she knew her place and forced herself to stay sitting on the towel.

The word bath was like music to n'Barit's ears. Normally he would never have accepted anything from a stranger, but this was an emergency, and he did believe in divine providence. Even if there was no governing deific intelligence, sometimes things happened for a reason, to open up new pathways. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment and bit his lip. He was totally dirtied by a lesser animal, the worst kind of dirtiness. "Are you clean?" he asked through closed eyes.

That gave Lixxie pause. "Uh... well, I took a shower this morning and didn't trip in any puddles of mud like I accidentally sometimes do," she said truthfully. It wasn't ever really her fault either! She'd be taking Grim for a walk and then he would start running and she'd fall. Where was this line of questioning going, anyway? "My father would kill me if I didn't. Uh, take a shower. He's pretty big on things like that. He's Master of Ceremonies for some big court thing who-knows-where."

Grim sighed. Oh, Lixxie, what are you doing? He had had his fun, it was time to move on to bigger and better things! Like chasing squirrels, or jumping on old people. The only thing that kept him from acting on that instinct was the faint instinct, waaay back in his doggy brain, that he'd gotten her in trouble with someone. And as much as he didn't like to let her interact with anyone not on the proscribed list, he supposed he had to let her make up for his immaturity. But only for a little.

N'Barit cursed, silently for a change. This woman was an animal handler, which made her unclean no matter what. Humans and their insufferable attachments to filthy animals! He had to do something, but he could not fathom the proper course of action. Let the filthy animal handler handle Kirkcaldy, or let his own filthy self carry her. Neither option appealed under the circumstance.

He would simply have to change the circumstance. "Get me water!" he demanded, eyes snapping open. "A bottle of it." Bottled water was probably one of the only redeeming things about human society.

Seeing that n'Barit was now calmer, Kirkcaldy relaxed. He was still sitting there in that strange position with his arms in the air like a zombie, but at least he seemed okay. She waited patiently for him to tell her what to do, peering at Lixxie and Grim with carefully contained curiosity.

Lixxie considered this very carefully. "Alright!" She pointed to Grim and said something guttural; the dog's ears drooped and he lay down, facing resolutely away from n'Barit and Kirkcaldy. Like hell was he gonna keep an eye on them like Lixxie'd asked. The stupid kid would have to deal with the fact he wasn't gonna jump on the weird-smelling guy. Upon seeing that, she hopped up and made a beeline to the stand selling Italian ice, popcorn and water. Wasn't it all the way over near Smith Street? She made a face and changed direction, going the complete other way.

The dog sighed.

Being left alone (save for Kirkcaldy and the animal, neither of which counted in n'Barit's mind) gave n'Barit a chance to collect himself and find his resolve. It took him only a brief meditative moment to channel his upset into a more productive controlled anger. "Stupid beast," he muttered under his breath, clenching his teeth as he looked at Grim. Then he studied his slobber- and fur-infested arms and had to wince in disgust. He hadn't been this dirty since he was a small child, back at school, and gotten punished for it. He could punish himself enough in a minute, once he was clean again.

Kirkcaldy sighed and flopped down on the towel, still concerned, but bored. She was beginning to wonder how long n'Barit was going to stay like that with his arms sticking out, and why he was doing it at all. Was this some sort of game? Not a very fun one. "Banna," she mumbled, pressing her cheeks with her hands.

"Hush," said n'Barit, strict but not unkindly. "You'll get your banana. Just wait." "Wait" had to be Kirkcaldy's least favorite word in the universe, but she suffered through it, screwing up her face and rolling on the towel in frustration.

Grim growled at n'Barit, though it was really only a token of his animosity. He should just wait until Lixxie got back. Then Grim would really give him a piece of his mind!

When she returned, she held not only a bottle of water, but a pretzel. It appeared that either on her way to the stand or the return trip, Lixxie had been struck by a sudden hunger for a bread-based salty food. She took a satisfied bite of the pretzel as she handed a large bottle of water to n'Barit. "You ask for strange things," she commented, sitting down and crossing her legs. "Well, maybe not." Lixxie eyed the slime Grim had left on the green-haired guy. It kind of made sense if she thought about it.

N'Barit took the bottle, careful not to touch Lixxie in the process, and gingerly removed the plastic cap. He took half a step to the side so his hands were in the sun. It reflected brightly off the clear plastic and the metal of his fingers. "The first is water," he intoned. "The second is air. The third is light." He poured half the bottle over his left hand.

New conundrum. N'Barit could not touch the dirtied bottle with his clean hand. Doing so would dirty the clean hand on the outside of the bottle. He could not pour the bottle onto the hand that held it, either. As awesome as his prosthetic was, it had its limits.

Shaking the half-full bottle at Lixxie, n'Barit barked, "Take this and repeat after me." His demand was accompanied by a glare that did not invite participation: it threatened bad things if the demand was not met.

So confused. Lixxie was going to ask why, but then she remembered what her father had said about paying back debts. And this was kind of a debt, right? She obediently took the bottle, holding it like it was contaminated. Why else would he pass it to her in such an angry tone of voice? "Okay," said Lixxie slowly, waiting for direction.

Grim simply barked back at n'Barit. Geez, this guy.

"The first is water, the second is air, the third is light," said n'Barit, holding out his metal hand to her. He still sounded annoyed despite her cooperation.

Okay, she could remember that long enough to say it. "The first is water, the second is air, the third is light," she repeated, with a slight lilt at the end of the third phrase. Carefully- she didn't want to get n'Barit any wetter than he was- Lixxie poured the rest of the water over his metallic hand. "Was that right?" She'd go get another bottle if she needed to. "What does it mean?"

"Those are the three cleanest things," answered n'Barit automatically as he reached down to retrieve Kirkcaldy. He was inwardly relieved to finally have some part of himself clean, but he kept up his facade of sharp annoyance. Only Kirkcaldy was able to tell his ire had lessened.

Using the towel as a protective shield between himself and Kirkcaldy, n'Barit scooped the little girl up and held her at arm's length, careful not to let any part of himself actually come into contact with her. "Djee!" went Kirkcaldy in happy excitement, glad they were finally together again. She did everything with him and being left alone on the towel was disconcerting. But instead of cradling her as he usually did, n'Barit just held Kirkcaldy at arm's length, dangling in midair. She looked at him in plain confusion.

"Get my bag and crutch," n'Barit ordered Lixxie. "Where's the bath?"

"That way," she said, pointing towards the gate where she'd gotten the water. But then again, knowing her sense of direction, maybe she was wrong... Lixxie looked in the other direction thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's definitely that way." She picked up the bag and crutch, as ordered. Grim growled and barked a few times, then trotted off. "He's going home," she told n'Barit absently; crutches were hard to carry comfortably, especially when you weren't used to carrying anything but books or lanterns.

N'Barit was not a particularly fast walker without his crutch. He had to take a bit more care not to put his foot down at an angle or on a rock. He kept his eyes resolutely on the road, not registering Lixxie's announcement of Grim's departure until a few moments later. Then he responded with, "Good riddance." Meanwhile, all Kirkcaldy could do was squirm uncomfortably and look pleadingly at n'Barit for help, whimpering softly. This weird method of carrying was distressing both on a physical and mental level.

Well, okay. Lixxie shrugged and turned a little down a small alleyway, abruptly happy that the bathhouse was so close by. The crutch was ever so awkward to handle, and she kind of wandered if he was going to freak out over her touching it. He seemed to be that kind of guy, worrying about the three cleanest things in the world and all. She knew that her foster father wasn't exactly the messiest person in the world, but he wasn't this a**l...

Apparently, n'Barit was too busy being a**l about clean things and watching his step to pay any attention to where they were going. Step-slide, step-slide, he walked straight past the sign reading "Bath House" in florid black letters six inches high as if he didn't see it.

Lixxie would have reached out and grabbed him, and had indeed started to do so, when she paused. Couldn't he read? "Mister," she started to say, intending to ask that very question, when she thought of exactly how rude that was. "--the bathhouse is back here." She stood next to the sign, uncertainty in every part of her pose.

N'Barit stopped short, embarrassed. "Of course it is!" he snapped. He was mostly annoyed at himself, but also annoyed at Lixxie for pointing it out. He clomped back to the door and shouldered his way inside, Kirkcaldy looking distressed once more. She was starting to get really tired of today.

"I'm sorry!" She shuffled after him, then carefully set the crutch and bag on one of the padded benches for a moment. The attendant called out a greeting to Lixxie as she hastened over to speak to him in hushed tones. After just a moment of them speaking, the attendant accompanied her back over to n'Barit.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said. "Lixxie tells me you feel you need a bath?"

"Yes," said n'Barit, not moving from his spot. Could it possibly be that Gaia had ceremonial bathhouses? On Yuul, such establishments were considered a rare and important spiritual luxury, almost temples unto themselves. N'Barit had been to one a few times in the city where he was trained. The preparation of the water was as important as the actual cleansing ritual, with stages of boiling and cooling and lighting. Establishments employed Tuulani who didn't make the barrigater cut, if they were lucky enough to have applicable skills. N'Barit had been offered a lucrative position at one shortly before his graduation. Of course, for him, the only path he would consider had been that of a barrigater. If he had gone for the job in the bathhouse, things would have ended so differently.

N'Barit was forced to shake himself of the notion. This was Gaia, a human world. He'd be lucky if the water wasn't heavily chlorinated. Stupid cheap shortcut to purification! Lazy Gaians! Lazy humans!

Kirkcaldy started to make a face. Not only was she still ridiculously uncomfortable and being held like she was diseased or radioactive, the banana she had eaten earlier that day was nearing the exit. This was quickly becoming her worst day ever. "Nngh!" she squeaked, a noise very familiar to n'Barit, who silently swore. What the heck was he supposed to do? They were inside a bathhouse! Not the place for that sort of thing!

"Come in then." He gestured over his shoulder. "I'll show you to a room you can use." Lixxie had settled near n'Barit's possessions, hovering slightly. Maybe once he'd had a bath he wouldn't yell anymore? That was kind of the point of this exercise, to make him less grumpy. Even if she was really pretty bored. One solution would be to hunt down Grim and sit with him until this guy came back. Or she could play with the Rubik's cube in her pocket- she'd had it for ten years and never solved it. Or she could make little dust tornados outside.

But she wasn't supposed to do any of that. She sighed and sat back down.

"What are you doing?" snapped n'Barit, not about to leave this nameless stranger alone with his things. "Get up! And don't put my stuff down on some grimy floor again!" He could just as easily have added something derogatory at the end, or called Lixxie a servant.

As if n'Barit's demand were the breaking point, Kirkcaldy's face screwed into a look of upset, about ten seconds away from crying. Come on, thought n'Barit, just a few minutes more! Kirkcaldy's answer seemed to clearly be "no" and there was nothing she could do about it.

But they weren't on the floor! Lixxie almost said this, then snapped her mouth shut and picked the things up, rubbing her face on her sleeve. It was unclear whether she was wiping away tears or her nose itched, which was exactly the way she wanted it. Mostly she was mortified- if she had to go in the bathing room with him, she thought she'd die of utter embarrassment. Or at least faint in an extremely girly manner, which was looking more and more likely as she followed the brunet attendant and n'Barit to a room at the end of the hallway.

The door opened into a room decorated in whites and browns, in the Greco-roman style. Black-veined marble covered the floor, with a white mat where someone could step so they wouldn't slip when wet. The walls were aromatic dark pine, with a few windows above head-height for ventilation. There was a stack of fluffy white towels to the left of the bath, which was sunken into the floor; soap and all other accompanying toiletries stood at attention next to them.

Lixxie placed the bag on a pine bench near the wall and settled the crutch against the wall near it, but not without a fearful- and sneaky- glance over her shoulder at n'Barit. The attendant gestured to the room. "I suppose Elixabeté and I will take our leave now," he said, crossing his arms just under the nametag that read Oliver. "Should sir like it is one of us took the young miss with us?"

It took n'Barit a moment to realize the attendant meant Kirkcaldy and not Lixxie. "What? No!" he exclaimed, horrified. To think of anyone separating him from his precious Kirkcaldy was unbearable. There was no telling what they might do to her out of his sight. "She stays with me."

Picking a spot by the bath, n'Barit put Kirkcaldy down on the floor. She sniffled at him miserably. "Tcccch," he soothed, and clucked his tongue against the inside of his teeth twice. "Just a little while longer." He put his hand into the bath as if testing the water temperature and closed his eyes.

Oliver ignored the way n'Barit responded to his polite inquiry, noting instead the way he reacted to the water. "Is it not to your liking, sir?" He seemed to be nudging Lixxie towards the door behind his back, but she wasn't moving very much. She had to make sure n'Barit was settled before she would feel the debt paid.

Scalding or freezing, it mattered not to n'Barit. His brow furrowed with intense concentration and he grunted and ground his teeth together until he found the point he was searching for. Then he unclenched his teeth and said quite clearly: "The third is light. The second is air. The first is water."

There was a strange sort of flash in the water, a brief white glow, and at the same time the two circular markings on n'Barit's left cheek glowed. It lasted merely a moment, but it was undeniably real.

It was followed by something even odder. N'Barit smiled broadly, looking genuinely happy, and promptly shook off his prosthetic leg. It landed with a clatter on the floor, boot and all, and n'Barit went the other direction, falling gracefully into the full bath with barely a splash, clothes and all.

Oliver was unfazed, but Lixxie promptly expressed her surprise. "Oh, wow!" She would have clapped her hands- both at the pyrotechnics and at n'Barit's smile- except she realized he might not appreciate that, so she fell quiet and followed Oliver out, with a glance at Kirkcaldy as she left. Poor kid was probably bored out of her skull; if Lixxie had anything other than the keys to her dorm at school in her pocket, she would've given it to her to play with.

Lixxie ran her hands through her pale blue hair and stepped outside. She'd wait, in case her debt wasn't as repaid as she thought it was.

Inside, n'Barit did not resurface for a long time, almost as long as he could stand, but Kirkcaldy was used to this. At least she could make herself more comfortable now. She lay down on the towel with her head on her arms and bit her lip. Sometimes she hated being patient, but with n'Barit, it was the most important virtue.

N'Barit finally came up with a gasp of air, splashing ungracefully, and went to the side of the tub. From here he could reach Kirkcaldy. He ran a wet hand over her hair. Kirkcaldy shivered at the warm water. "You're fine," he said. "No crying."

"Dyadiin," whined Kirkcaldy. She really did want to be crying. Only weeks of being trained not to held her back.

"Two minutes," he said, pushing back into the center of the tub. He quickly set about cleaning everything he had on him, the clothes he was wearing and himself. He didn't bother with the soaps yet. The important thing was spiritual cleansing. Once he was satisfied with his own purity, he set about taking care of Kirkcaldy.

N'Barit worked quickly and efficiently, if a bit roughly. Baths were not supposed to be relaxing in Yuulani culture. They were something strictly utilitarian, serving an important spiritual and practical purpose. Still, he enjoyed them. Before he could really relax, though, he needed to do something about his clothes.

The room was devoid of any clotheslines or drying racks. Gathering his and Kirkcaldy's wet things, he reattached his prosthetic leg (easy without pants on) and carefully hobbled to the door, opening it. "Hey, these need hanging--"

Lixxie gasped, one hand automatically coming up to cover her eyes. "You could have just called," she said. Her unoccupied hand twitched a few fingers, sending a strong, warm gust at the clothes. They dried themselves nearly instantly under the onslaught of wind. She peeked through her fingers, trying not to look at n'Barit, to make sure the clothes were dry.

Then she slid down the wall in what looked like exasperation, but was actually a dead faint.

N'Barit just stood there, staring, shocked. Not only were the clothes dry, so was he. His shock was not at the fact that Lixxie possessed powers. He had grown up round people with powers. A girl at the Academy had air powers just like that. N'Barit had trained with her until she graduated a rotation before him. He was shocked because... Lixxie possessed powers.

Since leaving Yuul, n'Barit had met a lot of people with powers, humans among them, but none he identified as having a Tuulan nature. These powers did. It was like meeting a complete stranger wearing a t-shirt with the mascot of your high school. It was eerie.

And really, really cool. "Thanks," said n'Barit, not realizing Lixxie could not hear it, and went to go get dressed. There was no reason not to now that he was completely dry. It was a bit of a shame that this meant no further bath, but this was not the sort of divine opportunity he passed up. Sometimes it was possibly for the heathens to do something right, accidentally.

Kirkcaldy was still dripping wet. She looked tired, too. Past time for a nap. N'Barit gathered her up in one of the clean towels, grabbed his crutch, and went back to the hall.

Lixxie had not moved. N'Barit frowned and poked her with his crutch. "Hey."

After a moment, Lixxie woke up. She'd been having the nicest dream about being with her twin and her mother, back at home in Thscier-- and then she'd been poked in the side. And it'd taken a little to shake off the feeling that she should be back at home, swimming in the river with her sister and splashing and getting messy. Like sisters were supposed to do.

She looked up at n'Barit and couldn't stop herself from blushing a little. He'd been naked, after all, and Verdelet had taught her not to 'flaunt her assets'. It was just plain embarrassing. Lixxie sighed and stood up, rubbed the side of her face where she'd been leaning against the wall and said, "Yeah?"

"Air her," said n'Barit, holding out the tired-looking Kirkcaldy. It was such a strange combination of words (n'Barit's occasionally bizarre way with language on display) that it took a moment to work out what in fact he had said.

She paused, thinking about the order in which he'd placed his words- then what she'd done before fainting came back to her. "Oh," she said intelligently, flicking a couple of fingers at Cady, then looking back to n'Barit. "Please don't tell my father that you know I can do that. It's supposed to be a secret, not even my teachers know I can do that." It was shameful to beg, but she really didn't need the added stress of having Verdelet shout at her for a couple of hours this weekend. "Please," she asked, looking at the wall.

N'Barit was further shocked at that. Here was someone with a Tuulani-grade skill begging. It was an affront to his belief system. "Don't beg," he said, nestling Kirkcaldy against his arm. The little Illusionary sighed and closed her eyes, settling down to a nap as n'Barit continued, "Having the ability is a divine gift and marks you as chosen. It is your duty to realize that potential and lead your people." Then he hesitated. No matter how familiar her powers were, she was not a Yuulani.

What? Divinity was something for her father, or her sister. Ilixiande could manage leading her people. Lixxie knew she wouldn't be good at all at that- once, in gym class, she was picked to lead a soccer team and they lost so badly she was shunned for a week. Those had been some lonely lunches...

"Look, sir..." She trailed off, looking in the general direction of the front desk, then to Kirkcaldy. Lixxie shut her mouth and seemed to be waiting- either for someone to yell at her or Oliver to emerge.

"Yes?" prompted n'Barit dryly, staring at her. He wanted to goad her into doing something to prove she had a spine. Whoever was responsible for raising this girl had done a truly terrible job of it. She had a gift and n'Barit had spent the past hour treating her like a commoner because, clearly, she had no idea what she possessed. It was divinely screwed up that this world had no respect for pure powers. The fact that someone possessing such a skill would cower and hide it was offensive.

She couldn't think of a way to say what she wanted to say without sounding like she was begging or groveling. He'd told her not to, and Lixxie tried to make it a habit to listen when others spoke. "Where I live right now, people with purely elemental powers are not well treated," she said slowly. "My father was especially angry when he found out that I can't do much, except with, um, air. Because he leads our area of the world in his religion. And even, even if..." She paused and took a deep breath, lowering her voice in respect to Kirkcaldy.

If only Grim were here, he'd know what to say. Her skills were in following, not in leading, or talking, or explaining. If only someone could tell her what to do in this situation, she wouldn't be acting like a girl who just got her first crush. The rest came out in a rush, like she didn't want to admit what she was saying was true. "Even if I can't really be a part of that religion because I'm a foundling child, I still have to listen to, I mean, obey, the rules, and the rules say that if your powers are straight up elemental you can't use them." There. That had come out at least somewhat correctly. It made sense, even if she had spoken a little too quickly and quietly.

With a deep breath, she continued her explanation. "And nothing's pure when I have it, because I was the twin who got sent away. If you're looking for someone who can lead her people, you want Ilixiande, because she's the one who stayed at home where she can use the fact that our real father is a-" Lixxie broke off and hugged herself. No more, or else Verdelet would know that she'd told and she would have to sit in her room for the rest of the weekend, deprived of Grim and friends. He might even send her away if he knew- that was the condition when she was five, that he wouldn't send her to another world again if she never said what she was.

N'Barit listened with what was surprising patience for him, all the while wondering if the divine path had been leading to him to this person, to this moment. It was a profoundly heavy feeling. The precise sequence of events seemed preposterous, everything leading up to him finding Kirkcaldy and now meeting Lixxie, including his unlikely extraction from the world of his origin by false deities.

The teaching was strong, stronger than his own dimension, stronger than all the dimensions of the many universes, because clearly it had somehow sent him here to this moment. It was giving him a chance. Somehow his path was leading him towards some great honor for the divine. In suffering he might find redemption, perhaps not for his broken self, but certainly for others.

"That's ridiculous," n'Barit said to Lixxie. "Of all the elements, air is the second purest. Any so-called religion that tells you otherwise is completely false, but then, every time I run into the word religion it ends up representing a set of falsehoods that is substantiated only by the fact it contains some truths distorted beyond the point of usefulness by the thoughts and fears of its practitioners.

His face hardened with that sort of divine inspiration he had been trained to convey. "The only reason to forbid your powers is to control and repress you and prevent you from taking your rightful place as a leader. Clearly they've clouded your mind to the possibility, you don't even see it. A clouded mind is a powerful barrier to both earthly and divine success."

And finally the hard part. With difficulty, n'Barit admitted, "Your air powers are even purer than my luminary akinetics." He averted his eyes and frowned. Like any good Yuul he hated admitting there was anything better, but he could no more lie to Lixxie than he could lie to anyone lost from the path, especially one so like a Tuulani.

In his mind, n'Barit had a clear idea of what Lixxie's society might be. The powerless masses, resenting the abilities of the sacred few, scared of the truth, twisting things so as to relegate people with sacred powers to a position of shame. He had long realized the possibility of such a world existing through his interactions with humans. They feared what they did not understand, and the only way to understand energy gifts was to have them.

"You don't understand!" Lixxie was starting to get distressed now, but she didn't continue. She went so far as to clap both hands over her mouth, so scared was she of saying anything else. If only Grim were here, or maybe even her sister. But if Ilixiande were here, Lixxie would not be... and she wouldn't be in this trouble.

She wished she were her sister.

But it was Elixabeté, the weak one, who was here now. It was her opportunity to behave now, in hopes that one day Verdelet could fix both of them so they would both be water and sky all mixed up. Then they could be sisters again, instead of two half-divine freaks of nature. Lixxie ran one hand through her blue hair- the hair that had once been black- and shakily sighed. How close she'd come to telling him. She couldn't do that anymore. She had to talk to Grim.

"I- I should go pay." She turned on her heel and walked quickly to the desk. When she was done paying, she'd go back for his stuff and help him to where she needed to go. Then Lixxie would go home and think about the day, just like she always did.

N'Barit glanced at his stuff in the room and then at Lixxie's retreating form. He made a decision. "Hey!" he called after her, following. He was really much faster with the crutch under his arm, able to take risky steps without worrying about his prosthetic. "Stop being scared of other people!" Instead of the heartfelt pleading anyone else would have made, n'Barit's line was a gruff command, as if he could bully her into being less scared.

In his arm, Kirkcaldy was stirred awake by all the motion, and not happily so. She let out a little wail of upset. No more, she seemed to say. This day was too much already! "Naaaap!"

She looked over her shoulder at n'Barit as she shelled out enough to cover the price of the bath. "I can't," she said, accepting her change from Oliver. "Should I go get your stuff?"

N'Barit huffed with disgust at her weakness. "I'll get it." I don't need help. He whirled on his crutch and went stamping off down the hallway to get his things.

"Alright," she mumbled, folding a piece of square paper on the desk into a frog. She should probably go home and try to conceal all she'd told from her father. But Lixxie wasn't much into lying or hiding. She knew she'd probably fold like a stack of cards if she was asked about what she'd done today. She put her head down on the desk, willing herself to faint again.

When n'Barit returned with his bag over his shoulder and Kirkcaldy trying to slumber in his arm with a bit more success, he was actually mildly surprised to find Lixxie still standing there. It was rare to find anyone who would voluntarily stick around with him for more than thirty minutes without some form of compensation. It was even rarer to find someone he didn't mind having around for that length of time. Clearly, Lixxie needed his help very badly. If she couldn't ditch someone as plainly mean and disagreeable as him, she was more incapacitated by weakness than he thought.

"Come on," he grumbled at Lixxie out of pity, shuffling towards the front door.

Lixxie looked over her shoulder. Uh, what? Hadn't he been grousing at her before? Either way, she straightened and followed him out the door.

As she slid the door shut behind her, pieces fell into place in her head. "You act like my dad when he's on a sermon," she said after a moment, once she'd caught up with n'Barit again. "You're religious, right? Like, really very so?"

'I'm not religious!" he retorted, upsetting Kirkcaldy in her sleep. He took a moment to comfort her and then continued in a more reasonable tone, "Religions are false distortions of the divine path created by humans. Gods, parables, hocus pocus mumbo jumbo. All superstition!" He focused on the road as he spoke, staring straight ahead.

She flinched, then shook her head as if to shake cobwebs out. "Father says religion is important because it gives hope to those that have none. Isn't that enough to make even... false distortions of the divine path worthwhile?" Lixxie wondered about this; it didn't seem to make any sense.

"--No!" said n'Barit, resisting the urge to slip an English expletive in there. Even if Kirkcaldy was asleep, he would not use such language in her presence. "Having no path is better than following a false one. At least if you have no path you're not doing any harm to the divine. False paths are dangerous. Corrupting. The more people that follow false paths, the more the corruption spreads. You can't justify that with hope, especially when it's a lie." He cut himself off. He could have probably railed about false hope for hours, but he was interested in her response.

Lixxie was quiet for a moment. If religion was false, did that make Atarrabi, her real father, an immortal with the power to shake the world, but not a god? "But I can," she said after a moment. "I can't justify anything that makes people sad. It's more than just gods and parables, it's having the feeling that no matter what, someone is looking out for you and loves you, even if it's not obvious in the way He or She is acting."

Disappointed, n'Barit sighed. He was hoping for feedback that showed she was accepting his ideas. "That's a projection of human ego. Humans believe their existence is so great and superior, their intelligence so much a governing force that they think something like themselves must control the universe. Something thinking and intelligent. That's ridiculous. Furthermore, when they learn the failings and mortality of their parents, they have to create some bigger parent who guides and protects them. That's all it is. A creation of a flawed psyche that can't accept the mortal nature of its existence." N'Barit turned off down a small road, heading away from the main streets. "And:

"If humans could learn to accept their own mortality, they could learn to follow their mortal leaders and not reject the leaders for having the same flaws they themselves possess. They should recognize gifted leaders are there for the benefit of all and not subjugate such individuals because they fear them. And:

"A good leader doesn't sit up on a pedestal in the sky, looking down on people. A good leader lives with the people and works actively to help them. Even if such a leader is flawed, it merits following more than a giant imaginary friend." Finally, he was done, and Lixxie could get a word in edgewise.

"Mortality is acknowledging that you die, right?" Lixxie was getting very confused at this. He was talking like he wasn't human too, and maybe he wasn't because he did make water glow and such, but still. Maybe he was some kind of Manchurian Candidate, like Louyang at school kept insisting existing somewhere called Earth. Sure, Louyang, sure, and now she was faced with someone who acted just like he'd described them, except human-ish. "It doesn't make any sense. The way you described leading, I almost could be a leader, except I know I'm not. I don't know what's good for anyone."

"That's why as leader it's your duty to figure it out," said n'Barit.

They were in the town outskirts now, the road meandering down to a single lane. Up ahead lay grassy hills, sparsely forested, and then thicker forest. Beyond that it was anyone's guess. The world there had yet to be revealed. Gaia was like a vast theme park, with new rides still waiting to open. The existence of the road suggested there would eventually be something. For now there were distant mountains, too far to visit pointlessly.

N'Barit swung his crutch in uneven steps. "No one knows how to lead without learning how to. The question is, since you have a gift, don't you have a duty to try and lead? There's a human saying along the same lines. With great power comes great responsibility."

She slowed a little. Probably she should turn back, but with her sense of direction she'd be lost in seconds. "I'm not good with responsibility." Lixxie thought that it might be because of her air-ness. Air was flighty, and so was she. "Really. If Grim didn't jump on me whenever I forgot, he'd never get fed." She sighed, somewhat comically. Where exactly were they, anyway?...

"You don't learn overnight," said n'Barit, annoyed. His temper was quickly souring again. "It takes years of training. I trained for twelve rotations and I still wasn't done." Worse, he was still sore about it.

As if picking up on n'Barit's rising ire, Kirkcaldy twitched and mumbled in her sleep, prompting n'Barit to nestle his head on hers until she quieted.

Lixxie seemed to sense this and backed off. "I should head home." The sun was starting to go down a little, and Verdelet would be getting worried. And she figured that she had a general idea of where she was now...

"That'll be the first bit of initiative you've taken since I met you," sniped n'Barit cattily. He finally turned off the path and beelined for a large tree sitting along the slope of a hill overlooking the town. It was easy to get oriented from up here. Most of the major town landmarks were visible over the rooftops.

She shrugged that one off. That wasn't an uncommon remark at all. "Yeah, I get that a lot," she said slowly, following him to the top of the hill and looking back to the town. Lixxie could see her development from there! And also the gigantic black dog bounding their way.

"Oh! There's Grim, I'd better go," she said, starting down the hill towards him. "Have a nice evening!" She wasn't feeling quite so down as to forget her manners.

"Bah!" was n'Barit's reply as he went to sit under the tree.  

[romesilk]

N'Barit went halfway down the hill to record his thoughts so he could keep an eye on Kirkcaldy without bothering her.

Quote:

That was something else. If it doesn't prove the divine path I don't know what does. This proves I was right about getting out from under the praetorians. When I'm outside their grasp I can pursue the dvine path set before me, and look where it takes me? Not one but two people in need of guidance and truth.

I should have told her about the proof of atheism. If God doesn't strike down atheists, God doesn't really care about people or need people to follow. Ergo a belief in that kind of intelligence is completely moot. A real leader interacts with followers, rewards them and punishes them accordingly, and a real leader derives power from the followers. The question then becomes the purity of the leader. The false prophets and lies and distortions of religion. People should follow a leader because the leader gives them truth and guidance and protection, not lies and subterfuge in attempting to control them! A real leader serves, not the other way around!

Ah, those greedy humans. They may be incapable of producing a true leader. Certainly that girl is the closest thing I've seen to someone who might be capable, but she's been perfectly trained to see herself as subserviant.

There was another point I should have made... what was it...

Hrm...

She wasn't all that bad as far as Gaians go. There may be something that I can do for her if she can wise up and stop simpering all the time. Simpering isn't helpful behavior in someone who should be a leader. On the other hand, that degree of egolessness is essential, too. I don't understand why humans find it so difficult to be both. They're just totally inferior to us Yuulani, incapable of balance. Probably because of all the false teachings they've been following.

...

That was a hard day. Even understanding its purpose I can't say I enjoyed it. I wish I could remember that second point. ... Blast, what mas it!? In any event, I have to make sure not to record over this so I can remember the first point I need to make the next time I see her. Assuming my path crosses hers again. I don't know, I almost think I should be spending all my time on Kirkcaldy and not trying to balance two projects. If the divine puts it this way, I'll just have to find a way to rise to the challenge. This is a test. A test of my strength. I'm not going to fail it.

Somehow, I'm sure the road leads back to my people. I just need to keep walking it until I find out how. Hmm. ..........

Click.  

[romesilk]

Half-Baked goes here!  

[romesilk]

Differing Appearances goes here!  

[romesilk]

Under the carpet of the stars with the lullaby of insects to soothe her, Kirkcaldy slumbered. She lay draped across n'Barit's chest as usual, rising and falling with the rise and fall of his chest, not minding the occasional near-snore as he dreamt. It served as reminder he was there, even in her dreams. He was always there and never, ever left her alone but for those brief moments when he was underwater and she was on the shore.

Kirkcaldy hummed in her dreamscape, rocked back and forth as if by the ocean. She could feel the hem of her dress dragging across the stone floor. She could feel herself without truly being there, like it had been when she was trapped between the worlds and not yet with n'Barit. There but net there. She cared not, comforted by the swaying motion, watching as a thousand little straw bristles scraped across the dry old stones. Back and forth and back and forth. She was adrift in a sweeping ocean.

She saw the bustle of long skirts and, without any move on her own part, was facing up. A pair of people stood above her, one old and one young, both united in stubborn anger. Had they not been female, she could have seen in them n'Barit. There was something dark and blurred about their faces, as if a miasma coated the air around them.

The two were arguing, but it was like hearing the conversation through water. Kirkcaldy could not move away from it, but the words were lost on her. Then, at the end of the indistinct shouting, the younger one took off, dragging Kirkcaldy with her.

At that point, Kirkcaldy tried to move, but it was as if she had no arms and legs or lay trapped in a cocoon with only her face seeing out. She could only be bumped along behind the young woman across dirt and rocks, her bristles dragging. She squirmed, trying to get free, but there was a sudden snort and she had a strange vision of vicious hogs trying to eat her and lay still. If she lay still the hogs could not get her, she would be the same as the trunk of a tree. The pigs could not eat that, for it was too tough. A tree, a tree, a tree, she thought to herself as fiercely as she could.

Then she was no longer being dragged, instead being jerked back and forth across flat stones, which surprised her. It was an angry sweeping motion, jarring, but not wholly terrible. She could see the lights of the stars spread out above her, and the dim shapes of dark buildings with trails of smoke rising into the air and candles flickering though shuttered windows. The air was chill and cold around her. It was a moonless night, but where the moon had gone she did not know. Only that it was a most inauspicious portent. Bad things lurked on nights with no moon. Wolves were far the worse of any hungry pigs.

For some reason, she was not worried about them here. There were no wolves, she knew. Except maybe of the were variety, and that was enough thought to keep her quiet so she could listen for danger.

Sounds were not easily coming. Everything seemed distant, muted, like a quilt had been placed over it to muffle the world. Of maybe she was the one behind the quilt. She wanted to reach up and pull it away from her ears, but again she could not move and felt no arms.

The jarring sweeps subsided into something more rhythmic, the anger faded. Kirkcaldy was relieved. She hated it when people got angry. Then she stopped, She could feel herself being gripped like a pole, two hands upon her. Then she was being pulled by those very hands, pulled like she had been torn from the world.

She landed in some shady corner. The room was lit below her with low firelight. There was the girl, the one who had grabbed her, sneaking towards a pedestal.

There sat a box atop the pedestal, intricately carved dark wood. Kirkcaldy studied it with interest. Unlike the girl and the argument, it was as if she could make out every minute detail on the box. It told a story. There was a man, and a woman, and the fields of the world above them.

At once Kirkcaldy had an ill feeling. She knew this place, she knew that box! The girl was drawing nearer to it, fingers twitching with mischief. Kirkcaldy wanted to shout at her. No, don't do it! Stop! I know what happens next! Please stop! But she was voiceless and trapped in the corner, writhing in her bonds like an insect in a spider's web.

Kirkcaldy began to weep silently, still struggling. Please, she begged, her thoughts reaching out to that girl. Don't do it. Stop, please stop, I know what happens next. She pulled and pulled at her bonds but they only held her tighter, powerless, until she was screaming mutely at the young woman, panicked and fearful and wanting desperately to escape because she knew what happened next! There was a deafening rush of blood in her ears. No, no! The bonds held her all the tighter as the girl opened the box, took out what was in it, and--

With a scream Kirkcaldy came to consciousness, shaken roughly.

"Kady! Kady! Kirkcaldy!"

N'Barit was shaking her, his hands the tight binds that held her, his shouts the sounds that deafened her. Kirkcaldy choked, sobbing, and wailed as n'Barit hugged her tightly.

"Shhhh, it's just a bad dream," he whispered to her, rocking her. "Just a dream. You're okay, there's no need for crying." But there was a touch of dampness on her forehead. Kirkcaldy snuggled close into n'Barit's arms and closed her eyes. She was again adrift on the sweetly swaying ocean, but this time she was not alone, safe and secure upon a boat of comforting warmth.  

[romesilk]

It was entirely no fault of his own that n'Barit did not notice the dim glow inside Kirkcaldy's silvery bauble. The dark red was entirely outside his visual spectrum. He only felt the telltale pang of the leftover organ in the back of his head that detected spikes in radiation. It had evolved to offer early warning of devastating solar flares, but in this case, by the time it registered the spike, it was already too late. The process was unfolding.

Kirkcaldy whimpered slightly. She sensed it, if nothing else. Things were changing. The ocean was turning rough. Her eyes snapped open and she squirmed to escape from n'Barit, back onto the white square of towel that defined her universe.

Confused, n'Barit reached out for her, but his night vision wasn't very good. He could only make out a dark shape huddled against the white towel. "Kirkcaldy?"

"No!" said Kirkcaldy quite plainly, and n'Barit wanted to rise up in anger, but it was the middle of night and he was tired. He flopped back down on the grass and covered his face with his left hand.

"Come on, go back to sleep," he drawled, totally oblivious and fighting down his instinct to seek cover. The little spike of energy was not a solar flare warning. He didn't know what it was, but this was Gaia. The worst that could happen here was the forum crashing, and since he lived outside that chaotic world of posting and bumping and trolling, he hardly cared. He shoved the instinct and warning far down in his mind, banishing them from his consciousness.

Not having that luxury, Kirkcaldy's fingers found the little silver bauble. She could see the pulsing n'Barit could not, she could feel the response in her own body, and she closed her eyes tightly and fought it down uselessly.

It was at the second whimper, half-muffled, that n'Barit actually got the sense that something was wrong. He jerked upright and cursed the fact that he could not see. Riding the surge of adrenaline resulting from his state of alarm, he summoned a tiny little shield to his left hand. It was a task he struggled to do every day when he purified the pond water, but when Kirkcaldy's well-being was at stake, he found like most parents that the impossible came easily. "Kirkcaldy--"

Fingers tightened around the bauble, Kirkcaldy did not answer. It was already done. The bauble's glow had faded, the sensation subsided, and it took her a moment to get past it. N'Barit started to lean towards her, but she was faster. She whirled about and threw her arm- around his neck tightly. "Dyadin!"

N'Barit's little flare of light flickered and ended. He had seen enough during the seconds of its existence to be concerned, but not horribly so. "What's wrong! Are you okay!?"

"Okay!" she agreed breathily. N'Barit's arm came around her. He knew it was somehow different, but it was still night and there was no danger so the adrenaline was gone. A dull, constant worry took its place.

"It's late, back to sleep," he said into her soft hair. She hummed and nodded and they lay back down. It took a few minutes, but Kirkcaldy drifted off in calm security.

Not so n'Barit. He resisted the urge to check her for physical aberrations and forced himself to lay completely still. He went through every meditation trick he knew, but the worry kept him awake until sunrise.

Life was pain, life was sacrifice, so even at first light n'Barit forced himself to stay still until Kirkcaldy finally stirred awake. Only when she started to reach for the knapsack to grab a banana did he open his eyes to see if what he thought was true or if the flicker of shield in the night had played some trick on his eyes.

There suddenly seemed to be a good deal more to Kirkcaldy: more arms, more legs, more hair. She could have uncomfortably curled up on his chest before but if she tried now, parts of her would spill over. It was not a glaringly huge change, but it was a change quite surely.

N'Barit had only one thought in his mind. Gathering Kirkcaldy up and placating her with half a banana, he set out for the Bridge, desperate to quell his worries.  

[romesilk]

It was unusual to run into somebody on the Bridge, but not unheard of, so when n'Barit found a man standing there studying the constantly-shifting destinations he noted it and walked on by. He had more important things on his mind, like getting Kirkcaldy to Sally's house. There was no time in his schedule for strangers.

The stranger was a tall man, thin and reedy, with a crop of short russet hair and disconcerting bright orange eyes set in a kindly face. Despite being rather formally dressed, he had an air of messiness about him. There were scrubs of dirt on his black pants and scuff marks on his boots. His rust brown tailcoat was rumpled and creased, and the patterned yellow waistcoat underneath was buttoned wrong. A black cravat hung loose around his neck like a scarf. He was in his thirties, assuming he was human, lines of laughter and sorrow etched lightly on his face. The stranger did not notice n'Barit at first. By the time he did, n'Barit was already halfway off the Bridge, and then it was too late.

~~~

Arriving at Sally's house, n'Barit wasted no time in making himself comfortable. He felt, as usual, entitled. He greeted Sally with only the most cursory of pleasantries, told her in no uncertain terms what he expected her to do, and, at the first opportunity, insulted her husband Max.

It was no mistake that n'Barit had chosen to come here. Sally, in addition to being one of the four or five people around n'Barit actually respected and trusted and liked in some sense of the word, was a pediatrician. Several years ago, when he had come down with a persistent virus that nearly killed him, she had been the one to treat him and nurse him back to health. Though he was no longer a child, as far as he was concerned Sally was his doctor and would be for the rest of his life. He simply would not tolerate any other. Certainly he would accept no one else for Kirkcaldy.

Max, on the other hand, n'Barit could live with out.

The truth was Max and n'Barit had far too much in common. They were both ill-mannered, easily insulted, proud, and stubborn. Neither ever backed down from a fight. So long as they were in the same room, that meant a fight with each other.

While Sally checked Kirkcaldy over, Max and n'Barit stood in the hall and shouted. It was nothing new. Max groused about the fact n'Barit, whom he hated, was in his house, taking advantage of his wife's generosity and compassion. N'Barit responded in kind, calling Max dirty, amoral, and corrupted, intimating that the older man was a coward, and pronouncing himself the greatest thing in the universe. To which Max replied that n'Barit was nothing but an ego-inflated, spoiled twerp who needed a smacking. Then the threats turned to the physical, both parties posturing and boasting and making fists. It ended only moments before a blow could be landed when Sally returned with Kirkcaldy. Each man was placated temporarily by the presence of his loved one.

"And you're damn lucky," was Max's parting jibe.

"Not as lucky as you are, old fart!"

"N'Barit!" chided Sally, who would tolerate a lot of bad behavior from n'Barit and Max both, but drew the line at calling her husband old. The age difference between Sally and her husband had always been a sore spot for Max and it had taken Sally five years to convince Max that despite the twenty-year gap, he was the only man for her. Now that they were thirty-seven and fifty-seven it seemed a smaller difference, but Sally knew it still grated.

N'Barit had to settle for sticking his tongue out at Max's back as he took Kirkcaldy from Sally, a quick meditational breath pulling him out of his anger. "Well?" he asked Sally, actually sounding decently worried.

"She's perfectly fine," assured Sally. "It's not uncommon for children of Gaian origin to grow in spurts."

N'Barit stared at Sally distrustfully.

"I promise, she's fine," said Sally, tickling Kirkcaldy's cheek.

"Shiii," giggled Kirkcaldy in response. "Cheese!"

Sally smiled. "Though perhaps we could do something about her hair..."

There were plenty of hair ties around the house and soon Kirkcaldy was dressed in some clothes of Zenobia's that better fit her changed body, and decorated with a pair of short braids. Sally was pleased with her work, but of course n'Barit did not like it. Kirkcaldy played endlessly with the braids but stopped short of pulling them out, seemingly pleased by the style.

Then, of course, they had to stay for lunch, albeit not at the same table as Max, who ate out back with his daughter Zenobia, also known as the Unholy Two-Year-Old Terror. They could hear her screeches all the way in the kitchen and n'Barit wrinkled his nose distastefully and said, "Don't you ever be like that," to Kirkcaldy.

"You're no bed of roses, either," said Sally, who was rather enamored of her husband and daughter. She winked at n'Barit playfully, but the point was made. Max and Zenobia weren't the only two people in the house with the capacity to frustrate others. In fact, there were more people in the Imperium willing to spend an hour trapped in a room with Max than would choose the same fate with n'Barit for a companion.

It was n'Barit's sad fate to have to resist Sally's invitation for dinner, a bath, a place to sleep, and the same each day following for the rest of his life. Anyone else he would have simply told where to shove it and how hard, but when Sally asked there was something in her eyes, a plaintively earnest concern coupled with years of friendship, and he could not flatly insult her sincerity. Probably for the first time ever today, n'Barit was beginning to understand where that parental concern came from and how deep it ran.

He also knew that, as sincere as it was, living here would never work out. N'Barit did not want to sacrifice his independence and ritual for the human life Sally offered. He declined her offer simply but flatly and without tolerating any argument.

He left Sally's house troubled. N'Barit had never known a mother, never wanted one, despised the mere concept, so haw had it come to pass that one had adopted him? Or had he been the one to let her in? It was probably a sign of the degradation of his leadership skills that he had come to rely on this human woman, and n'Barit hated himself for the fact immediately. He just as quickly tried to rationalize himself out of it by arguing on his homeworld he would have had plenty of counselors and nurses at his every command, but in his heart he did not believe it for a second. Yes, he would have had those resources, but he would not so readily have needed to call on them himself.

Stupid weak b*****d, he thought of himself, and as if to confirm the diagnosis he paused to set Kirkcaldy down right outside Sally's gate, for his arms were tired. The rush of adrenaline from the morning was gone, and even with lunch in his stomach he suddenly felt tired and exhausted as he sat down next to Kirkcaldy on the towel.

N'Barit would never have been very good at poker, for while he did have the ability to project anger almost constantly regardless of the situation, things like surprise and worry etched themselves onto his face in little, obvious ways. The downturn at the corners of his mouth, the crooked clench in his jaw, the way the muscles of his nose contracted over his nostrils -- even the unblinking, unfocused stare to some point remembered but no longer there.

Kirkcaldy clambered onto n'Barit's lap and tried to cheer him with her smile. He did not refuse her, but neither did he respond in any way but to shift his weight slightly in response to the pressure on his body. "Dyadin..."

"Mh," grunted n'Barit, not daring to hug her for comfort. All he needed was to have to admit that she was a crutch, too, and by that thought it was too late. N'Barit closed his eyes. "Okay," he said, wishing for once to not have that blasted neural patch so he could speak the words in his native language, "'The path to failure is paved in self-doubt.'" It was a quote from the texts, a quote he had always hated because it was a last resort and spoke to the desperation of the person who needed it, but he was unclean. He was allowed to be desperate. He could punish himself for that later.

And with that cheering thought, his mouth pulled into a sort of wry smile. Sure, he was unclean and weak and desperate, but he had rituals. That still made him better than everybody else here. They could never have his level of cleansing purification. They could never be one with the divine perfection, or even know a fraction of it. He still had that: a fraction of perfection.

His train of thought had reached its destination. N'Barit opened his eyes and was surprised to find Kirkcaldy standing at the corner of the towel staring off across the street at the houses.

(N'Barit did not know it, but the house directly opposite them belonged to Billy Gunn, the inquisitor, and Lily Atreidon-Pierrot, the ex-praetorix, neither of whom meant anything to n'Barit, but both of whom had something to do with the fellow back on the Bridge.)

How Kirkcaldy had gotten there was momentarily confusing to n'Barit. He blinked and said her name and she turned, smiled, and went merrily running to his side, happy to find his face no longer troubled. Immediately n'Barit was struck by the selfish, giddy thought, I am never carrying her again! He just as immediately amended it as he caught her in a hug. Except when I want to.

"Dyadin!"

"Indyadin," he corrected softly out of habit, rustling her hair. She was being unusually sweet, even for Kirkcaldy. "What?"

Kirkcaldy just shook her head, silky hair brushing her cheeks and braids bouncing. Even had she wanted to, she would not have been able to explain her feelings right then. She simply did not have the vocabulary yet. She could only know deep in her heart that n'Barit was happy once more, everything from this morning was now over, and they could finally go back to doing what they did best.

~~~~

There remained one tiny string, so small neither n'Barit nor Kirkcaldy had truly noticed it, but it snagged them both as surely as a flame entices certain insects to their deaths.

They made their way through the Neighborhood in a new fashion, n'Barit bound to Kirkcaldy by her ribboned bauble. It made for an effective leash. The bauble was wedged in the Y of n'Barit's crutch and the ribbon trailed between them. N'Barit had to take care to move at her pace and not his own, but with just the one crutch it was not difficult.

Given the slow pace and attention being given to the simple act of walking, n'Barit stuck to the main streets instead of taking the hidden pathways between the dimensional walls. The Neighborhood was deserted at this hour. People were at work or sleeping in, busy with their own lives in their own homes. There were virtually no housewives, no need for repair services, no cars or trucks or any of the other adornments of the average suburban neighborhood*. No lazy drone of lawn mowers or distant sounds of children. Just fresh air and birds chirping.

(* This was not entirely true. There existed a few cars scattered around the Neighborhood, mostly belonging to enthusiasts, but they were rarely ever driven on the street.)

It was a pleasant journey, but n'Barit was more than ready to leave when they hit the Bridge. He paused to savor the moment. Standing here he was in the realm of the praetorians. One step forward, and he was out. He checked Kirkcaldy and gently encouraged her with a tug of his crutch.

One step. The world of the Neighborhood dissolved, all that manufactured perfection and storybook illusion, replaced instead by the swirling maelstrom of potential that was the Bridge. A thousand million universes, and all of them free.

The man from earlier was still there, only he was sitting on the ground now, staring at that maelstrom of ever-changing destinations as if waiting for some signal. N'Barit ignore him and focused on an exit to Gaia.

It was simple to lock in the right destination, no more than a mental trick, and then they were off, heading home.

They were halfway to the exit when Kirkcaldy stopped moving. N'Barit felt the faint tug on his crutch and stopped before he could accidentally pull her down. She was looking at the man sitting in the Bridge's center. His back was to Kirkcaldy and n'Barit, but had he turned his head just a little more to the right he would have seen them. His shoulders were hunched and his arms wrapped around himself in a position of despair.

N'Barit tugged his crutch, a gentle nudge forward, but Kirkcaldy did not budge. "Cady..."

Kirkcaldy was not listening, intent. She started towards the man, but the leash stopped her. She turned and looked up at n'Barit.

"Let's go," he said, tugging gently again. When she frowned, he said in a more gentle tone, "Leave him be."

Kirkcaldy would not budge, even an inch, except to guilt n'Barit with a troubled expression that made clear her disappointment. Did he not understand the parallel? Did he not see the underlying meaning?

N'Barit was not by nature a person inclined to find subtext in anything, even the obvious. He took things at literal face value. Signs, metaphors, moralities -- they did not exist in his version of the universe. His people were not fond of parables or fables. They chose to approach things very bluntly with the truth of the matter exposed, and n'Barit was nothing if not an honest reflection of his people's values.

He gave a tug one more time, intending to put his metaphorical foot down (though he would have never called it such). Finally the line slackened. Kirkcaldy was following his command. He started to hobble off again.

Except Kirkcaldy was not following him. She caught up to his crutch and removed the bauble, toddling off with it before n'Barit could notice. She was quick in her determination. N'Barit went all of two steps before he caught on to the ruse and by then she was at the stranger's back and he could not stop her.

Kirkcaldy touched the man on the shoulder. "You?" she asked in greeting.

It was as if someone had lit a match to a flame. The man come to life like a marionette unfolding and unfurling and turning with limbs made up of sharp angles being pulled by invisible strings. "Oh," he said upon perceiving Kirkcaldy, and then his eyebrows shot up. "Oh!" A shot of hopeful desperation rang out in his voice.

N'Barit hobbled one-crutched towards the man as fast as he was able, ready to defend Kirkcaldy, but his instinct was not needed. The stranger's mouth fell open and he gasped, then threw himself of Kirkcaldy's feet with tears in his cheeks.

"Oh my god, people!"

Immediately n'Barit disliked this man because only filthy people said things about gods and this man was in contact with Kirkcaldy. N'Barit decided right then and there he was going to make sure Kirkcaldy had a sound lesson about not inviting corruption into her life.

The man sobbed into the dusty surface of the Bridge, inhaling particles of dirt from a thousand different dimensions in the process. "I thought I would never get out of here!"

N'Barit came to a halt next to Kirkcaldy and glanced around. A thousand million places surrounded them, and all you had to do was step out into them. He stuck his crutch out between the stranger and Kirkcaldy, forcing the latter back a step to safety. He would deal with her cleansing later. Right now he wanted to take out his anger on this idiot.

"What are you talking about?" said n'Barit hotly. "There are a million different ways out of here!"

The man seemed not to notice n'Barit's ire. "Yes, but I only want to go to one of them! And I can't-- I can't--" He dissolved into sobs again.

"Get up," said n'Barit, mostly to see if the man would obey him. Amazingly, it worked.

Standing revealed the stranger to be much taller than n'Barit, a fact that was only hinted at by the stranger's gangliness when sitting. Secretly pleased by his success, n'Barit further ordered, "Who are you?"

Despite being much taller and seemingly older than n'Barit, the stranger seemed to cower before the former barrigater. An onlooker would have concluded the two to be evenly matched in physical presence, but n'Barit was far more commanding and sounded the larger. "Daub, sir," said the man. "That's short for Double-A, Anthony Arthur. Or is it Anthony Andrews? I can never remember." He started sniffling more, wringing his hands and looking to Kirkcaldy for help. She was positively distraught and crying herself in sheer empathy for this pitiful fellow. Her silent tears rolled down her face in big drops. She took hold of n'Barit's pants leg for emotional support.

N'Barit did not cease his questioning. "How did you get here?"

Daub bit his lip and looked at his hands. "I... I don't know!" Tears welled up anew. N'Barit was beginning to get thoroughly disgusted at this waste of water and would have hit the man with his crutch if he thought it would do any good. Daub was already crying so much about nothing, n'Barit hardly wanted to give him a real reason for the waterworks.

On the other hand, n'Barit's curiosity was getting the better of him. He fixed Daub with a dubious glare. "How long have you been here?" He suspected the answer correctly.

"I don't know." Daub sniffed loudly and wiped his nose with his cravat, sliming the cloth. "I was... I was going somewhere, and I don't know where, but now I can't get back." His sobbing overcame him again.

"Stop crying," growled n'Barit, more and more annoyed by the second. Could it be this idiot didn't even know how to use the Bridge? "This is a transdimensional Bridge of Intent. All you have to do is focus on where you're going and the Bridge will take you there." N'Barit was surprised at how easily the words came out of him. He had spent far too much time around the praetorians, who spouted that sort of drivel at every available opportunity. (At least, the Ems did. The Trions were known for offering simpler explanations and the Kens for simply not talking.)

"But I can't!" burst Daub, cowering despite being older and taller. "I've been trying and trying and I just can't do it!"

It was then n'Barit realized what this man actually was. He was Lost.

For the vast majority of the universe, using the Bridge was as simple as just focusing on your destination, but every so often there would exist someone whose mind was simply incapable of focusing, usually because of some form of head trauma or mental instability. Such people would go out onto the Bridge, walk off into a random destination, and never be heard from again. Presumably they ended up in a dimension that did not support their physical existence and died.

N'Barit was flatly amazed at the fact Daub was still standing here. Whoever he was, he at least possessed half a teaspoon of common sense, enough to know not to go wandering off into uncontrolled dimensions. How had he ended up on the Bridge at the first place? And how could it be that this entire time no one had wandered by to find him?

N'Barit sighed and looked down at Kirkcaldy, who was sniffling and crying with such empathy he knew there was simply no getting around this. Not unless he wanted Kirkcaldy to continue crying for the rest of the week. She was sensitive, always upset if n'Barit was unhappy, and unable to cheer herself until she saw him again satisfied. Unless she saw Daub reach a similar state of cheerfulness she would probably stay upset forever. Or she might recover in an hour. It was not something n'Barit thought worth testing.

With a deep breath, n'Barit said with great reluctance, "Where are you from?"

Daub stopped sniffling, realizing that this strange boy just might represent help. "the Neighborhood. It's part of the Imperium."

Mentally, n'Barit performed a face smack. Of course. He looked back in the direction they had come, instantly fixing it to the correct destination. "There you go. Use that one."

Daub looked at the bridge n'Barit was indicating. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" snapped n'Barit. "Now get out of here!"

Daub bowed halfway and babbled, "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" He almost tripped over himself as he headed to the Bridge. Kirkcaldy, finally satisfied, hugged n'Barit's wooden leg in relief and put her bauble back into its place on n'Barit's crutch.

"Don't be too happy," n'Barit said dryly, "because you're still in trouble." Kirkcaldy blinked, confused, not sure why she should be in trouble for helping this man the same way she always helped n'Barit. N'Barit did not elaborate, keeping his concentration on the Bridge so the man could walk out on it.

The closer Daub got to the exit, the slower he began moving. First his feet slowed, then they dragged, and finally Daub was moving in a very slow shuffle. N'Barit stared at Daub's back with searing eyes, trying to mentally push the man forward. Finally he could take it no more. He tugged his crutch to indicate to Kirkcaldy that they were moving and started after Daub. "Hey! Get a move on!" he yelled, sweeping forward.

Daub turned, saw n'Barit rushing towards him in anger, and decided it would be better if he fled. He picked up his pace considerably. N'Barit chased Daub all the way across the Bridge just to make sure Daub was all the way over and would not try to come back.

They were standing once again in the Neighborhood, the lake and Bridge behind them, and n'Barit ground his teeth with fury. "If you can't use the Bridge properly, just stay off it!"

At this admonishment, Daub promptly tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground with a sharp cry. He fell face-first into the dirt that separated the Bridge from the street and lay there, crying.

Sure enough, this upset Kirkcaldy. "Indyadin!" she pleaded, tugging at n'Barit's tunic.

"Look, we can't solve everyone's problems!" blasted back n'Barit, too loudly. Kirkcaldy paused a moment, her face screwing up in that all-too-familiar expression, and she began bawling.

"Grah!" said n'Barit, giving up completely. He dropped his crutch, severing his physical link to Kirkcaldy, and went limping off to the Lake, pulling off his tunic and undershirt as he did. The last thing to go was the leg.

With a splash he dove into the water, ignoring the shock of its chill. He swam out enough lengths to be several feet submerged while standing and there stopped, surveying the water.

N'Barit had been in the Neighborhood's lake many times and was always impressed by the clarity of its water. Still, he took the effort to purify it, the little white flash that indicated his powers flooding his vision momentarily. Then he simply hung in the water, crossly staring out over the lake bottom, blowing out bubbles.

It felt good to be submerged in the water, purifying. N'Barit knew it was selfish and wrong for someone in his position, but just for this moment he wanted to be selfish. He squeezed his eyes shut, envisioned all his anger, and rolled it up into a ball of tangles. Then he expelled it in a thousand little bubbles.

Above, Kirkcaldy stared after n'Barit. Sure, she was upset about this other man's plight, but n'Barit was more important. She stifled her tears and made her way to the edge of the water to wait for him, fetching the towel from his discarded knapsack as she did. This was exactly where she was when n'Barit surfaced for air a minute later and guiltily forgave her, though he did insist on lecturing her about being in contact with undesirables and submit her to a thorough dunking to remove the taint from her.

At the roadside, Daub had stopped crying, too. He was tired and hungry and dirty and exhausted and he had given up. He just wanted to go home. He checked his feet, grateful he had not turned his ankle in the fall, and set about picking himself up. The road proceeded in two directions in front of him, east and west. He abruptly realized that he did not know which one was the correct path.

This was why, a good fifteen minutes later, when n'Barit and Kirkcaldy returned from the lake dripping wet, Daub was still standing there.

"Schrist," said n'Barit, using a praetorian oath for his decidedly praetorian situation, and because techt did not seem entirely strong enough for this situation. Daub turned, looked at n'Barit fearfully, and did not go running, more scared of being lost than he was of n'Barit.

"I can't remember," Daub said meekly, "in which direction my home is."

N'Barit stared. This man was more than Lost. He was a complete, ******** idiot. N'Barit would have said it aloud except he refused to say that particular insult in front of Kirkcaldy. (It was one of the words that would only get her into trouble if she learned it.) "There are only two choices," drawled n'Barit pointedly.

"I know," said Daub softly, rubbing his reddened eyes. "I know." Of course he started crying again, but this time quietly.

"Sorry," said Kirkcaldy to n'Barit, because she knew she had asked far too much of him already. N'Barit rolled his eyes.

"You are so lucky I love you," he muttered to Kirkcaldy. The dip in the lake had done him a great deal of good. He said to Daub, "All right. What's your address?" He was sure to add a glare to the question to make perfectly clear he was not happy about asking.

"6112 Tennyson," said Daub automatically, then immediately paled. "Or is it 6111 Brighton? No, I think it's..." Daub dissolved into uncertainty. "Enid Blyton? 7212 Ferguson? Mooring? 5212... 3107..."

N'Barit growled under his breath. This was going to be a long adventure.  

[romesilk]

They wandered around, and by some luck every so often Daub would think he recognized something. A house, a tree -- he was never really sure, but whenever they were wandering in the right direction Daub would pick up on more and more. N'Barit and Kirkcaldy found the journey rather taxing. Kirkcaldy was still new to the whole walking thing and quickly finding it less enjoyable than being carried everywhere. N'Barit was sick and tired of walking, period. It did not help that he and Kirkcaldy were both still soaked from the cleansing. It took a long time for their clothing and hair to dry.

Though he was oblivious to where they were and where they were going, Daub noticed his companions' discomfort. "I could carry her," he proposed tentatively, and promptly got his head bitten off when n'Barit shouted with instant anger, "No!" Poor Daub could not recall ever having been so terrified. (Of course, he didn't seem to have much of a memory.)

For the same reason that n'Barit and Kirkcaldy had not encountered anyone on the way to the Bridge from Sally's, they did not encounter any people as they wandered through the Neighborhood now. Most of the houses were set quite a ways back from the street, with generous yardage, and most also had something akin to a privacy filter. People could be wandering around nude in their yards and no one on the street would notice.

Daub tried to engage in conversation, an attempt n'Barit largely dissuaded with his short, sharp answers and angry growling. Maybe it was Daub's memory, maybe it was just his nature, but he kept trying. "I do say, I look a frightful mess," he remarked conversationally, glancing at n'Barit and Kirkcaldy. N'Barit ignored him, but Kirkcaldy smiled sympathetically. "I daresay all these stains won't wash out. I suppose I shall have to buy a new tailcoat and perhaps another waistcoat to go with it."

"Grr," growled n'Barit, and then Daub would quiet for half a minute before repeating the process over. He was pathetically charming-- not that it affected n'Barit. It did have some effect on Kirkcaldy. Daub was like a stray puppy, lost and adorable, and Kirkcaldy could not help but smile at his attempts to make friends, even eventually encouraging him with a cheery giggle until n'Barit glared at her and she had to be satisfied with broad smiles.

They stopped a few times as the sun continued its overhead passage to mark the hours gone by. The Neighborhood was a huge place, hundreds if not thousands of houses, laid out in a seemingly random pattern. The streets were mostly straight but had irregular junctions. Many turns dead-ended without warning. Several streets were tucked away, hidden. N'Barit would have liked to use the back alley-type pathways but it was hopeless without knowing what they were looking for.

When it seemed they could go no further, they found it. Daub exclaimed in sharp surprise, "I think-- no! It is! There it is!" He pointed at what had to be the loneliest-looking house in this area of the Neighborhood.

It sat atop a hill surrounded by brown grass and dead garden. Rising up two and a half stories, the imposing house was decorated with a distinctly Victorian style. There were treetops visible just behind it, but nothing from the front of the house to the road, which was a considerable distance. Even Kirkcaldy was disenchanted by the grim countenance. She nearly flopped down on the ground in exhaustion as if to say, "We walked all this way for this?"

N'Barit could quite clearly sense his daughter's disappointment. He felt the same. They had just wasted over two hours helping this idiot find his own house. They should have just walked off and let someone help Daub, maybe someone who actually knew him and where he lived. If nothing else, n'Barit hoped this whole thing would serve as a lesson to Kirkcaldy: don't involve yourself in other people's problems, because it was entirely too much effort for very little reward.

Realizing the utter disillusionment of his two guides, Daub withered with regret. He had put them through an awful lot of trouble. True, n'Barit was not the best company, but to do so much for a total stranger-- Daub felt as if he could never begin to repay this kindness. The most he could do was try. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? I insist. You must be hungry. I've got some biscuits and crumpets and plenty of strawberry jam."

It seemed like eons ago they had eaten at Sally's. N'Barit was perfectly ready to starve for his principles. He stared. "No. We're going." He turned to try and do just that, but Daub let out a strangled cry.

"Oh, please! I beg of you! Just a spot of tea and some biscuits? I'm ever so sorry for the trouble I've put you through, you must let me repay you! I've taken your time, and you were probably going somewhere important, weren't you? Oh, dear. Surely I can offer you something as compensation?"

N'Barit paused and looked down at poor, tired Kirkcaldy. Even with the hidden pathways to get them through the houses, they were still a long way from the Bridge. The exact opposite side of the Neighborhood, almost as if someone had purposefully put Daub's house as far from the Bridge as possible.

Kirkcaldy was indeed very hungry, her plaintive face begging n'Barit. Daub had mentioned strawberries, one of her absolute favorite things to eat, and now she wanted one. It was so rare a treat to get a strawberry on Gaia. They were fairly expensive. "Star berra?" she squeaked.

"No, it's jam," said n'Barit, though Kirkcaldy had no idea what that meant.

"So you'll come in?" said Daub hopefully.

N'Barit sighed heavily. He was being steamrolled into doing a lot of things now that Kirkcaldy was bigger, and he was going to have to put a stop to it. After he got Kirkcaldy some strawberries. "She prefers fresh strawberries," he said to Daub in a last-ditch attempt to get out of this, "so if you don't have any of those forget about it."

Daub broke into a smile. "I'm sure I can find some!"

~~~

The house was no less depressing on the inside. It was furnished throughout with period items and wallpaper, and while n'Barit was incapable of knowing this because he was totally unfamiliar with the Victorian Era, he did register the idea that the décor was fairly outdated and old. It was ugly, crowded, too much detail and decoration, and it made n'Barit want to go back to the bare white buildings of his home planet which were honest and pure in his memories.

The décor was truly overbearing, but Kirkcaldy was more distressed by the windows. While there were a great number of them in odd places, they were all faded and dirty and very little sunlight shone through. All the windows were closed and the air was dry and stale. Strange little lamps adorned the walls and tables. The place was horridly unfamiliar in so many ways. Kirkcaldy had never seen anything like it before and did not much want to, wishing immedieately for the trees and fresh air of the out of doors.

They ended up in a green-walled sitting room with creaky wooden floors and dusty corners. Daub wasted no time in setting them up with food and tea, but even this could not distract his guests from the fact this house was depressing. Daub seated himself with his legs folded up in his chair and sipped at his tea as if this house was the most cheery place imaginable.

"That's much better now, isn't it? I'm ever so glad I ran into you, you've no idea how terrible it was being stuck there, waiting. Thank you so, so much for helping me get back here, I don't know what I would have done without you. Truly."

"Mm," agreed n'Barit, only not really, breaking apart a cookie to share with Kirkcaldy.

"And I do beg your forgiveness, but I seem to have forgotten your names?"

N'Barit sprayed a few cookie crumbs as he responded, "We didn't give them."

"Oh," said Daub, and waited, but n'Barit just stared sullenly and Kirkcaldy busied herself with her cookie, which she found quite sweet and tasty. Daub had given her a whole plate of fresh strawberries, plus jam, and it was enough to keep her thoroughly distracted for several minutes. She matched a cookie with a strawberry and found she did not like the mash-up of textures. "Did I introduce myself to you?"

N'Barit continued staring darkly. "Yes." He was being really clear about the fact he did not feel like talking, but Daub simply refused to give up on it.

Daub unfolded his legs, putting his feet flat on the floor. "I'm sorry, but I simply must know the identity of my benefactors. How else could I properly thank you?"

Finally n'Barit stopped staring, opting instead to roll his eyes. He could think of a few ways. "You could stop talking," he suggested.

"Mmph, good!" said Kirkcaldy, having just paired a strawberry with a piece of chocolate.

"You like that, do you?" remarked Daub brightly, purposefully ignoring or not hearing n'Barit's request. "Here, try pairing a biscuit with a bit of chocolate..." He took some himself as an example.

Kirkcaldy did, and found it good. Then she and Daub were smiling broadly at each other, cheerfully happy expressions perfectly mirrored on one another's faces. "Now try a biscuit, a bit of chocolate, and a strawberry!" Given her failure with the biscuit and strawberry together, Kirkcaldy was delighted when Daub's suggestion actually worked, enthusiastically bubbling, "Thanku!"

N'Barit scowled, not liking how well Kirkcaldy was getting along with Daub. He crunched down on another biscuit and chewed it to pulp in agitation.

"You still haven't given me your names," said Daub, and Kirkcaldy looked to n'Barit for permission.

"If I do will you stop talking?" he grumbled.

"Probably not, no," said Daub with refreshing honesty. "Part of the reason they call me Double-A is after the batteries. You know, I keep on going and going and going?"

I bet you would stop if I hit you hard enough on the head, thought n'Barit.

"I can't help it," said Daub, suddenly retrospective. "If I'm not going..." He lapsed into quiet, lost in his own troubled thoughts.

Finally! thought n'Barit with a relieved roll of his eyes.

Then Kirkcaldy said, "'Tsokay!"

Daub smiled back, thinly at first, then more happily. N'Barit nearly died. He had just been done in by Kirkcaldy for about the fifth time in as many hours! He gnashed his teeth and tried to contain his fury. He wished he had his crutch on hand to beat Daub upside the head with, but it was resting against the wall.

"So where were you heading?" asked Daub.

"Back to Gaia," said n'Barit flatly. "I hate praetorians."

"Oh, dear god, you too?" said Daub suddenly. N'Barit choked on his tea. This was the Neighborhood - finding someone who would say anything negative about the praetors was a rare anomaly. The people who lived here usually liked the praetorians and enjoyed the system. He was so surprised by the sympathetic sentiment he mentally forgave Daub the religious reference, at least in favor of discussing the praetorians for the time being. "God" was a topic they were sure to revisit later.

Daub quickly corrected himself. "That's not to say I truly hate them, I do love them, but... the things they do are unfathomable, and never quite the way you want it."

N'Barit quickly nodded, understanding perfectly Daub's meaning. He had nothing against the praetorians personally, just against the nature of their job. "They're always interfering," he suggested.

"Quite right!" exclaimed Daub, sipping at his tea with a shakily excited hand.

"Terfering?" prompted Kirkcaldy curiously.

"Telling us what to do, and showing up whenever they feel like it to-- to change what you're doing!" said Daub. (Personally, n'Barit wasn't sure if Kirkcaldy had been asking a question or just for a definition.)

"Which one's yours?" asked Daub, hoping it wasn't Grey because Grey was the one he actually tolerated most of the time.

"I don't know, to be honest. I dislike, uh, they all have the same faces." Daub wrinkled his nose.

"Bah, you get used to that," said n'Barit, thinking Daub was a new arrival.

"I don't," said Daub, suddenly sullen. Kirkcaldy looked between n'Barit and Daub with concern, then picked up and held out to Daub a cookie. Daub reached for it.

"No!" said n'Barit, and Kirkcaldy pulled her hand back. N'Barit frowned at her. "Put it on the table."

Kirkcaldy put the biscuit down and promptly flattened her hands in apology. N'Barit huffed and sat back in his chair. "'T's alright," he mumbled, accepting the apology. Kirkcaldy reached for another cookie and hunched in her chair ashamedly as she ate it.

Daub was confused. "Is there something wrong with the biscuits?"

"They're fine," said n'Barit.

"Oh," said Daub, and picked up the cookie on the table. "Thank you."

The simple gratitude made Kirkcaldy happy again. "Welcome!"

Daub's responding smile was somewhat strained by his lack of understanding. He ate the cookie, nodding, "Very good!" through a mouthful. He washed it down with the last of his tea even though it was a strange mix. He looked at the empty teacup a moment before replacing it on the table. "That's the last of the tea, then."

"We should get going," said n'Barit, and Daub immediately became upset.

"I still don't know who you are!" he whined. "Or even how you came to find me! I was sure I'd be stuck there forever. I must have been gone, I don't know, some length of time."

"And why did you go in the first place?" said n'Barit, hoping a question would shut Daub up.

"I..."

N'Barit's question had the desired effect for about two seconds. Then Daub started crying, huge tears rolling down his cheeks. Kirkcaldy immediately cooed with sympathy and concern, grabbing n'Barit's sleeve to ease her own distress.

"Techt," swore n'Barit. "You're completely useless, you know that?"

"I know," said Daub, another unexpected agreement. Such deference tugged at n'Barit's barrigater training and made it hard for n'Barit to keep his mind on being ornery. Daub wiped his runny nose with his sleeve. "I should never have gone out there, the praetorians told me not to."

"Then why?" persisted n'Barit, trying to figure out if Daub was going to keep resisting or cooperate and satisfy n'Barit's desire to know just what made humans so stupid so he could use whatever it was against them.

Daub stared at his hands, opened his mouth, looked up forlornly. "I don't even know who you are!"

"Oh, fine," said n'Barit, rolling his eyes. Daub could figure out who he was just by asking nearly anyone (there were only so many one-armed, one-legged, green-haired males in the Imperium) so there was no harm in admitting it. "I'm n'Barit Kinmera, of the Yuulani." There was also no real harm in puffing up his identity a little bit to a stranger.

"I was going there to kill myself."

For a moment., no one spoke. No one even seemed to breathe. Then n'Barit turned to Kirkcaldy and said, "This is why we don't waste our time with humans. They are unclean, corrupted, and incredibly stupid. You are a moron, you know that?" His head swung around to Daub. Kirkcaldy withdrew her hand from n'Barit's sleeve.

"I'm not a moron," said Daub. "I graduated university."

"You are the biggest moron I have ever met in my entire life, whatever your name was--" ("Daub," supplied Daub, ignored)-- "because never before have I met someone stupid enough to try and kill himself."

"Presumably the rest of them succeeded," said Daub, quite levelly.

"Assuming they even exist," said n'Barit.

"Suicide statistics are very real. Four times as many men as women, one of the three leading causes of death for persons aged fifteen to forty-four, though the rates vary greatly by era, nationality, and other factors."

"But that doesn't make any sense," protested n'Barit.

Daub looked honestly confused. "They're very plain statistics, what exactly about them doesn't make any sense?"

Before n'Barit could try to make some lame attempt to justify his reaction Kirkcaldy squeaked in distress. She was emotionally exhausted, having been pulled in every imaginable direction today both physically and mentally, and she was nearing her limit. The ongoing argument was just too much. Her expression resembled a person about to throw up, or throw a tantrum.

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to argue, are you quite alright?" Daub hunched his shoulders so his head was down more to Kirkcaldy's level.

N'Barit grabbed Kirkcaldy and pulled her over onto his lap. He had been meaning to argue, actually, and disliked having someone else speak as to his intent. He shot accusingly at Daub, "It's your fault she's tired. You made us walk around with you all day." (Never mind that Daub accounted for less than a third of their total excursion.) Kirkcaldy hiccoughed in n'Barit's arms.

"You're welcome to stay and rest," Daub offered sincerely. "I've the whole house to myself and plenty of rooms."

It seemed fair to n'Barit that Daub compensate them further, so he agreed. "Fine. But don't think you don't still owe me. I saved your life."  

[romesilk]

It was the first time Kirkcaldy had ever slept in a bed and she did not waste it, eyes closing the moment her head hit the pillow. N'Barit frowned at her still form in thought. Maybe this was the sort of life she deserved, living in a nice house with beds and food and shelter, the kind of life he did not allow himself to have. He left the room, knowing Kirkcaldy would not wake at the sound of the door closing. She was used to sleeping through most everything from being outside at night.

N'Barit found Daub cleaning up from their tea with jerky movements. "How is she?" he asked.

"Sleeping," said n'Barit. "You still haven't explained why you would want to kill yourself."

Daub slammed the silver tray down on the table. The spoons and plates and cups clattered. N'Barit jumped a little and tightened his grip on his crutch. "It isn't bloody easy!" shouted Daub.

"Watch your voice," growled n'Barit, thinking of Kirkcaldy and glad he had closed the door. Daub sank down to the floor and covered his face with his hands.

"It doesn't matter where I go or what I do, I still see her!"

"Who?" said n'Barit incredulously. He had not seen a single picture of any woman in this house so far, and if Daub was talking about Kirkcaldy then n'Barit would kill the weird human now. It was what the wan seemed to want anyway.

But it was not Kirkcaldy. "Lucy," sobbed Daub. "And-- and-- Christ, I can't even say her name!" He ran his hands through his tousled hair. "I wasn't ever meant to live, but I can't seem to kill myself either."

Once again, n'Barti was struck by this illogic. He could not even come up with a response to it. Daub peered up at n'Barit through his hands. "Oh, come on now, don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?" said n'Barit crossly, as he could not see his own expression.

"Like you've just found some rotten food down tween the couch's cushions. Good God, man."

N'Barit made a face. "There's no such thing as a god," he spat.

"Well of course not, it's just an expression." Daub rolled on his haunches. "Where on Earth are you from?"

"I'm not from Earth!" said n'Barit, really starting to get angry.

"Again, expression!"

"I'm a Yuulani barrigater!"

"A what?"

"Techt, what is the point of answering your questions if you're not going to understand my answers?"

Daub perched his cheek in his hand. "You could try explaining, I'm not nearly as daft as I seem. And I certainly have got time." He gestured at the empty room. "I have in fact got all the time in the universe as I understand it, because I think I've proven I'm too big a coward to correct that. So go on then."

Thinking Daub was the most unusual person he had ever met in the mental ward that was the Imperium, n'Barit started to tell him about Yuul and the barrigaters.

~~~

Kirkcaldy awoke feeling dreadfully alone, reaching for n'Barit only to find he was not there. Instead she found only soft covers and pillows which were no comfort. She had lived her whole life beside n'Barit and it was terrifying to find him suddenly gone. She hurriedly brushed aside the sheets and stumbled to the floor, still unused to her legs. The knapsack was in the room with her, containing the towel and the bananas and everything else she and n'Barit owned. It did not amount to much.

The presence of the knapsack was oddly reassuring. Kirkcaldy hugged the weathered olive khaki bag and sniffled. She wasn't sure why, the bag just made her sad.

Releasing it, she glanced around the room and found two doors. She did not know which one led out, nor did she really know how a door operated. She had never actually used one. N'Barit had always opened them so she would not touch them.

It was a risk, but one she was prepared to take to find n'Barit. The need to get back to him was too strong. She would just do whatever penance he asked of her later. Reaching up on the tips of her toes, she scrabbled with the round door knob. It took her several tries but she figured it out, twisting the knob with both hands and pulling back to swing it open. She slipped in the process and landed flat on her bottom. Undeterred, she picked herself up. By some luck she had picked the right door.

The hallway was empty. There were a lot of rooms, most with the doors ajar, but no sign on n'Barit. At the top of the stairs she heard him. He was somewhere down below.

Kirkcaldy studied the stairs. She had successfully tackled the door, more or less, and buoyed by this victory she decided to do the stairs as well. She knew how bigger people did it, but her feet did not reach quite so easily, so she did it by clambering down one step at a time.

By the bottom of the stairs she could make out individual words. "Water is the most precious commodity."

"But would that not mean then that planets with more water are more sacred, like Earth?"

"There is more water on Earth is because there needs to be. It's the divine's attempt at cleansing. The water and its purity are more attracted to places that are impure."

"Like magnetic forces. ... You know, two magnets repel and attract each other, the like sides repelling? A magnet. Oh, I must have some around here somewhere..."

When she came around the corner, Kirkcaldy spotted n'Barit and rushed immediately towards him. He startled, jumpy at suddenly being accosted from behind, but quickly settled when he realized it was Kirkcaldy. "Indyadin!"

"How did you get down here?" he asked, and Kirkcaldy knew she was in trouble. She pointed towards the doorway. N'Barit sighed. "Do you have any water?" he asked Daub.

"In the tap, of course, yes." Daub was awed by Kirkcaldy's attachment to her father, and a little envious. He rose to his feet, dusted off his trousers, and led them into the kitchen.

Daub sat on the counter while n'Barit worried over what precisely Kirkcaldy had come into contact with and where it had touched her. He was disappointed when she indicated her legs from the knee down, the result of her stair climbing.

"If the more holy the place the less water why is there any water on Yuul at all?" asked Daub, continuing the conversation. He swung his long legs against the cabinets.

N'Barit started the water running. "We have only what we need to survive and for our own purification. Maybe if we were wholly pure there would be no water, but then, only the Divine is wholly pure, so n'Teres Kiilin said we would surely also have no need for anything else..." N'Barit turned off the water as an excuse for not having the word he wanted. He then rapped his metal hand on the counter. "Here."

"Substantial, existent," said Daub, and n'Barit nodded. "If you were wholly pure you'd be part of the stream already, have I got it?"

N'Barit nodded again and dipped his hand in the lukewarm water. There was the usual white flash and Daub startled. "Blimey! What in God's name was that?--" Daub held up his hands defensively. "Expression!"

N'Barit sighed a little. He knew by this point that Daub was an atheist and just used the word out of habit, but that hardly meant n'Barit had to like it. "It was nothing." He cupped water in his flesh hand and poured it over Kirkcaldy's waiting arms.

N'Barit's dismissal only intrigued Daub farther. "But what was it? How did you make it do that?" He studied n'Barit's flesh hand for some sign of a contraption.

"All Tuulani can do that," said n'Barit, splashing water on Kirkcaldy's legs. Daub seemed not to mind the puddle of water on his flooring.

"Oh! It's your Tuulani power!"

N'Barit winced. That was not technically correct. "My power is shields, purification is simply part of my training as a barrigater."

"But how do you do it?"

Kirkcaldy tugged on n'Barit's clothing. Now that Daub mentioned it, she wanted to know about it too. She had taken the purification flash for granted up until now. "How?"

N'Barit held his hand out for them to look at. "Here," he said, annoyed. "I put my energy into my palm, collect it, and then release it." There was the little flash, smaller and dimmer since than before this was just a little demonstration without any real quantity of water.

Kirkcaldy stuck out her palm and tried to copy it. So did, ridiculously, Daub.

"Stop it!" shouted n'Barit. "Neither of you are Tuulani! You're not going to be able to do it."

"Blimey your dad's a bottle rocket," said Daub to Kirkcaldy.

"Aboddle?" she repeated, looking to n'Barit in question, but he could not answer. Daub bounced in upset.

"A bottle rocket! It's a cheap explosive, you light the fuse and then it explodes like a rocket up into the air." He looked between the two of them, finding no understanding. "I'll make one," he decided, and set off to look for parts.

Ten minutes later, they were standing in the middle of the living room and Daub simply stopped in his tracks and asked suddenly, "What am I doing?" He looked at his hands. He was holding a bottle and a bag of black powder. "Oh, God, gunpowder!" he shrieked, and held the bag out at arm's length. Very delicately he placed it on a table and backed up, almost into n'Barit.

"Watch it," growled n'Barit, for the physical proximity and the word "God."

"... The bodlocket," prompted Kirkcaldy, but it did not jog Daub's memory.

Wheezing, Daub sat down on the floor. "Oh my. Oh dear." He glanced at the bag of gunpowder. "Sorry about that. I keep it in the house for use with my flintlock pistol -- not that I've ever had much use for a flintlock pistol, you see, it's really just for dueling. Not that I've ever actually been in a duel. Oh dear me." He scratched his chin and looked at Kirkcaldy. She turned her head to the side, confused but still curious.

N'Barit sighed. Yet more time wasted. "If that's it we're gonna get going."

Daub immediately scrambled to his feet. He clasped his hands imploringly. "Oh, wait! Please stay! I can make us some... what time is it, breakfast? Lunch? Dinner?"

"I don't think so," said n'Barit. "We've wasted too much time here already."

"Oh, but please!" Daub dropped to his knees. "It's ever so quiet without you! Nobody ever comes by to visit, a least that I can remember. Beg pardon, I seem to have forgotten your names."

"N'Barit Kinmera," said n'Barit, really thinking this had gone on long enough. "Kirkcaldy." He had actually not given Kirkcaldy's name up until now.

"Do you mean Kirkcaldy?" said Daub, correcting the pronunciation. N'Barit totally froze. Thankfully Daub was quickly off again on another tangent. "Did I give you my name already?"

"Yes! Come on, Kirkcaldy, we're going."

Something clicked in Daub's mind. "Strawberries!" he said suddenly, and looked at Kirkcaldy. "You like fresh strawberries."

Kirkcaldy smiled and nodded.

"We're leaving," reiterated n'Barit, grabbing hold of Kirkcaldy's arm.

"I'll give you some. For your journey."

"Ooh, Dyadin!" squealed Kirkcaldy instantly.

"No and no!" howled n'Barit. "We are going back to Gaia and that's it."

"Then take me with you!"

N'Barit blanched. "No! Why would I do that!?"

Daub's answer was as sadly honest as possible. "I don't want to be here by myself. Here, you can tell me more about your planet, Yuulani--"

"It's just Yuul," corrected n'Barit.

"--And I-- I'll-- what do you want? Surely I can do something for you."

"You can get the strawberries," said n'Barit, because giving orders came easily even when the orders were not really what he wanted to give, "and then we're going."

Daub hung his head. "Alright, then..."

And n'Barit, in one of those singularly brilliant moments he sometimes had, gave an angry shout: "No it's not alright! Don't just agree with whatever other people say! Techt, if I asked you to give me your house, would you do it?"

Daub considered a moment. He looked around. "I wouldn't mind it," he admitted. "I don't need a whole house this big. Not for just myself, anyway."

"ARGH," n'Barit howled, thwacking his crutch on the wood flooring. "Fine, then! Give me your house!"

Daub stood there, doing nothing.

"Well?" said n'Barit.

"It's yours, then. I can't exactly pick it up and hand it over."

N'Barit purpled with fury. "GET OUT! Out! OUT!"

Daub hung his head again, rang his hands, and turned and shuffled away.

N'Barit looked at Kirkcaldy. She could not believe it either. They heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. N'Barit and Kirkcaldy went to the window and n'Barit pushed aside the musty curtains. Sure enough, there was Daub, heading down the path through the front yard. He walked almost to the edge of the property and sat down in the middle of the dirt with his arms on his knees.

"Kirkcaldy," said n'Barit, very calm and quiet now, "promise me you will never do things just because people tell you to without thinking about your own best interest."

"Yes, indyadin," said Kirkcaldy, staring after Daub in amazement.  

[romesilk]

Since he had control of the house, n'Barit decided to make a bold illustration of his point. He immediately set about putting every single thing in the house out of order. He knocked things off tables (breaking several potentially irreplaceable items), overturned trash cans of crumpled paper, kicked things across the floor with his good leg. Kirkcaldy watched and did not participate, though she was curious about the wanton destruction.

All the while Daub sat out in the garden and listened to n'Barit shouting "I think I'll break this!" and "Since I own this place I can do what I want with it!" He could not see what was going on inside, but he could well enough hear to understand what n'Barit was doing.

The dead garden Daub sat in was an unfortunate reflection of his passion for life. He listened to all of his things being destroyed and stared at no point in particular as the breeze stirred the few crumpled brown leaves still hanging precariously to their stalks. He let his mind wander, became oblivious, and wallowed in his misery for hours. Finally n'Barit came out to get him.

It was a slow retrieval. N'Barit stood a good few moments, staring and frowning at this pathetic individual, and said, "You can come back inside now." Daub did not so much as acknowledge that he had heard the words spoken. N'Barit repeated them, more loudly, and still nothing. Finally, he said, "Get up," and Daub did so.

Daub looked just as sad and miserable as he had earlier, and more than a little out of it. He responded to n'Barit's commands like an automaton, trudging back to the house as he was ordered. N'Barit had to make a command out of almost every little thing. Go up the stairs, open the front door, go inside. Kirkcaldy was there waiting, caught in the act of trying to gather up some of the scattered papers. N'Barit spared her a small glare of disapproval for trying to undo his handiwork.

"Well?" said n'Barit, leaning on his crutch smugly.

Daub looked around at the mess. His whole life spread out before him, the mementos of an interesting life. He reached down and picked up a sheet of crumpled paper. One of his failed suicide letters. He brought a hand to his mouth as he read it, concerned and melancholy.

N'Barit growled with disgust and hobbled into Daub's view. "I've destroyed your house!" he yelled.

Daub looked away from the note, let it fall from his hands and stooped to pick it up again. N'Barit stamped his crutch, growing impatient. Daub at last responded, "Did something happen here?"

N'Barit howled, startling Kickcaldy. "I destroyed your house and all of your things! You should be angry! Do something!"

Daub just frowned. "It's alright. They're only things."

It was such a simple, pure sentiment that it threw n'Barit for a loop momentarily. "... Uh?"

Daub recrumpled the paper and tossed it over his shoulder. It bounced off the wallpaper and onto one of his expensive jackets that lay rumpled on the floor between the broken shards of an antique vase. "I don't mind," he said softly. "Really. I'd much rather the house belong to someone who has a use for it. I don't have much of one, I've just been writing letters the past few months. It's such a big house, it's much too big for one person." Daub let his eyes roam, along the walls and up to the ceiling. Kirkcaldy found her way to n'Barit's leg and clung there,

"But where will you go?" asked n'Barit. Daub shrugged.

"Anywhere, I suppose. Back to the Bridge and maybe this time I'll do it, though I wouldn't expect so."

N'Barit put his good hand on Kirkcaldy's head. "Techt, don't you do anything? You have the most worthless life."

"Thank you," said Daub, further stunning n'Barit, and sat down on the floor. "It wasn't always this way. Once upon a time I was a temporal regulator. The whole of history depended on me. At least, Europe, seventeenth to nineteenth centuries. The great composers, the wars and revolutions. My job was to make sure no one changed all that and upset the course of modern history. D'you have any idea how important a job is that?"

N'Barit and Kirkcaldy did not.

"They only give it to a dozen or so people, across all the ages. Just that number of us protecting that area in that period." Daub picked up one of the porcelain shards on the floor next to him and examined it, turning it over in his fingers. "That's all gone now. They kicked me out. I'm not fit for duty." He let the shard fall back to the floor.

"Why not?" said n'Barit, actually getting a little curious.

Daub waved his hand mockingly. "Oh, workplace romance, temporal fracture disorder--" he took a quick breath-- "possibly-being-my-own-father, that sort of thing. I loved my job, though. I was quite good at it." He looked forlornly off into space.

N'Barit would have spat in disdain if it were one of his culture's customs. "You should stand up for yourself. It doesn't matter if people tell you you can't do anything. Like they know."

Daub looked up, smiling sadly. "Sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you try, some things are impossible."

N'Barit felt the heavy burden of responsibility fall onto his shoulders. "So you gave up."

"Aye," said Daub. "And now I'm stuck in this pointless existence." He started picking at splinters on the floor.

Kirkcaldy looked up an n'Barit, troubled. Her indyadin was quick to reassure her with her with his typical assertiveness: "You're a moron," he said to Daub. "An idiot like all humans."

"All right," said Daub.

"Don't agree with people when they insult you," growled n'Barit. Daub just shrugged. N'Barit again concluded, "Pathetic." He hit a book laying upside-down on the floor with his cane, knocking it against Daub's leg. "Don't you care about anything? Have any beliefs whatsoever?"

"I'm a Roushian Socialist!" offered Daub brightly, earning confused looks. "The State as enabler, based on the movement of 23rd century sociopolitical scholar Devon Roush, in which the people empower the state for their own empowerment, a highly effective system of government with particular emphasis on the funding of culture as a means of societal progress across all fields and the networking of information and digencrypted property in equal access dear god you have no idea what any of this if I'm saying, do you?"

"No," scowled n'Barit, because as much as he hated admitting it, the look on his face was making the point abundantly clear. He was hoping for some sort of belief he could argue over, but Roushian Socialism was completely beyond him. "All human beliefs are flawed."

"Well, that's not fair, admittedly humanity as a whole is imperfect, but in the striving for ideals we're at least capable of visualizing a limited perfection and attempting to implement it in our lives."

"Ideas from imperfect minds will always be imperfect," maintained n'Barit.

Blinking, Daub said, "You know, it is possible to have a discussion without turning it into an argument by making totalitarian statements in terms of black and white."

N'Barit's jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, two very understandable behavioral signals for humans. There were more similarities between human and Yuul cultures than n'Barit would ever admit. He looked down at Kirkcaldy, who was squirming in barely-contained boredom. She wanted to be interested and concerned, she just could not manage it for this sort of adult conversations about philosophy. At best, she could contribute to something involving her comprehension of religion as n'Barit had taught her. Without understanding even the general gist of this conversation, even that was impossible.

"We have been here long enough," said n'Barit. "We are leaving." He turned, pulling Kirkcaldy with him, as she was still attached to his leg. By this point, she was so turned around in her head that she was quite prepared to follow n'Barit outside.

"Wait!" Daub half-scrambled across the floor, landing on his stomach at n'Barit's feet with his hands clasped imploringly. " Tell me-- tell me more about Yuul. It's climate! It's flora and fauna! The people who live there!"

"No!" N'Barit was shocked. Pathetic as he was, Daub was in some ways more stubborn than n'Barit.

"Please," begged Daub, tears filling his eyes. "You're the first person who's talked to me in years, I think. They all-- they all treat me like I'm some sort of child, like a porcelain doll. Kid gloves and the whole bit."

N'Barit was torn. He could see in Daub a glimmer of his barrigatorial responsibilities, the need to serve the people he led when asked. His real people had long ago rejected him. This man was begging for his assistance. Did he not serve as barrigater for Kirkcaldy, who was herself a non-Yuulani? Did this not mean perhaps his role as barrigater had been expanded in some way by the divine?

"Just tell me what it would take for you stay here a bit longer," pleaded Daub.

N'Barit took a slow breath. He regretted this already.  

[romesilk]

Quote:

Dear Spork,

I'm not alone any longer. I don't know for sure how it happened, but I seem to have taken on two lodgers, or become the lodger, depending on how you look at it. N'Barit (he thinks that's how it is written) and Kirkcaldy have filled the empty rooms upstairs and now there's only the one left. I don't know what I was thinking when I asked for such a big house, I don't have any servants to fill it, but it's filled now and I think perhaps they needed it. If I understand n'Barit correctly (a difficult task let me tell you) then they were homeless or traveling, and I certainly understand that. They've told me about a wondrous or (listening to n'Barit) horrendous place called Gaia, apparently outside the praetorian protectorate, but for some reason I don't really feel like going. I don't mean that I'd want to avoid it, I would like to make a visit, but that suddenly the prospect of escaping the praetorians doesn't seem quite so appealling. I mean, they might have let me kill myself, so I can't say I'm overwhelmed by their presence here at the moment.

I am muchly confused by my new housemates, I've never met anyone quite like them. Oh, true, the fire and brimstone preachers come close to n'Barit, but he's altogether different. In some ways there is no reasoning with him, like he's learned all there is to know about the universe and will not be swayed from it, and in other ways he's like a child who knows nothing. He has no grasp of Earth's history or politics, doesn't know socialism much less the Roushian variation, has little grasp of Earth custom or technology -- I gather his species was not among the ones always rumored to have visited the blue planet.

Kirkcaldy, on the other hand, is absolutely wonderful, as charming as a fish. Sweeter even than the honeys of old. I am fond of n'Barit, though, it's almost like he's begging me to look out for him while at the same insisting on being the lookout. I can't possibly look after him, so it's good he's so self-sufficient, but at the same time! It's remarkable, his gift for dichotomy. He can despise something while at the same time being complacent with it. I imagine it is the only way to rationalize his belief system with the realities of life around him. It must be a difficult thing and I don't envy him it.

He's so wonderful to tell me about his planet and his people, I wish I could go there. It reminds me of travelling to listen to him speak of Yule (and what a charming name for a planet) and of Gaia and of all the other places he's visited. There are characters, too, foul villains and evil councils (though he does not see them this way) and heroes. I think he likes to talk about it, and that no one has listened to him speak of it for a long time. It must be akin to reliving it, glory days he can only recall now and never experience. Like how I miss time travelling. Perhaps some day he will ask me of it and I will tell him, but until then I am content to keep my silence, as I always have been. I do not know if I have the strength to revisit it, or what will happen if I do. Even the mere act of speaking of it here causes pain in my heart. Someday. But I've only just met them, it seems too much to burden them with all my problems, it's bad enough to have done to them what I have already. I am so grateful to them both for staying when I had no one. It feels less chilly in this house already.

I have been forced to conclude that I did not really want to kill myself. I did not want to live, either, but this is at least more than tolerable, and for that I am immensely grateful. I still miss everyone and everything I once knew and had, but this is beginning to feel a bit more like home. N'Barit's demands are many, but his heart is good. He has certainly inspired a truly wondrous child in Kirkcaldy. She looks after him, in ways I cannot begin to understand, and it's like she is his conscious, his Jiminy Cricket. I have never met so sweet and caring a child in my entire life, and in all my travels. She picks up on what her djadeen is feeling and comforts him or calms him or whatever else it is he's needing. I wouldn't go so far as to say he needs her, certainly he lived a long life (he has told me he is thirty-one, but I'm not sure the length of a rotation and he looks enough a child) without her, but she makes him more tolerable and forgiving, which given his nature is no small matter. She is even kind to me, peering around my doorframe to check up on what I am doing as I write this. I'm honored to receive such grace and attention, though she is still shy around me and is mindful of n'Barit's perceptions. I cannot help but to think that if I can convince them to stay longer, she might be kinder to me, and perhaps even consider me her friend. I know it's silly for an old codger like me to want to befriend so young a girl, but it's been so long since I had a friend that I hope you will forgive me my fancifulness. Kirkcaldy is simply endearing beyond all measure, and I'm honored to have been able to meet her, it's clear she brings such joy and light to n'Barit and I'm happy to have the pale reflection of that. I hope in time they will both come to trust me as I already trust them. You would have thought them brilliant, I think, and liked them, too.

I love you, mother.
AA

 

[romesilk]

The room was so much bigger than the other bedrooms and almost completely devoid of furnishing, yet, compared to the great outdoors, it was suffocating. Kirkcaldy sat in the middle of her new bed and gazed at the ceiling, missing the sky and the stars, the trees and the birds, the way it was never quiet, even far from the city in the dark of night.

The door opened, and Kirkcaldy did not need to look to recognize the uneven step of her indyadin. She turned to look at him with a smile, first and foremost wanting to cheer him, but n'Barit's eyes were quite intently on her for a change. He had something on his mind.

Without speaking, n'Barit crossed straight to the window. His mechanical arm by itself could have made short work of the window, but he used both his hands as he wrenched it up as far as it would go. As he headed back towards the door just as intently, he announced in a mumble, "Air cleansing." It was n'Barit's opinion that humans rarely knew how to do anything right, and that included their homes. Yuulani homes had no barriers on the outer windows or doors, which was made possible by the consistency of Yuulani weather on the supercontinent. Wind flowed through Yuulani cities like water through a sieve.

N'Barit limped out and Kirkcaldy smiled happily to herself, folding her hands together and smiling with secret delight. That was her dyadin, always looking out for her, always trying to do something for her, always making sure she was happy. It was going to be cold in the bed, though, without dyadin to keep her warm. N'Barit had told her she was going to sleep in this room and it did not seem he would be staying with her. That saddened Kirkcaldy a little bit, but she was encouraged when she looked at the open window, her own little reminder of her dyadin.

The nest person to walk through the hallway was not dyadin but Daub, who was wandering about in n'Barit's wake closing the windows. N'Barit would berate Daub if he found out, but for now, Daub went about his task blissfully unaware.

N'Barit had, of course, left Kirkcaldy's door open, and Daub popped his head inside. "Hullo there," he said, as if surprised to see her in the room. "Not asleep yet?"

Kirkcaldy shook her head, braids twisting. How could she? It was all so new, and while she had slept in this bed already once before, then it had not seemed so... permanent. Daub started towards the open window. Kirkcaldy let out a little gasp: "Ah!" and raised her hands partway in objection.

Daub drew up short and looked at her. "Did you want the window open?" Kirkcaldy nodded, braids bouncing this time. Daub turned his head at an angle. "Won't you be cold?"

She would be without dyadin, but Kirkcaldy smiled and shrugged. "'S fine." She steeled herself. "It's better like that."

Daub looked at the gaping window. "But won't you catch a chill? It is still April."

"Air cleansing," Kirkcaldy informed her. Daub's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh! It's--" He looked at the window again, and back at Kirkcaldy. "It's a Yuulan thing, is it? The open windows?" Kirkcaldy nodded and Daub realized what he'd done by closing all the other windows. He hastily rushed from the room and ran about opening up all the windows he'd closed. Kirkcaldy listened to him dashing about madly, silently giggling. It was cute how he tried so hard to please, how eager he was for n'Barit's approval. It was probably because most people, Daub included, had trouble seeing past the gruff exterior n'Barit extruded. The truth was n'Barit approved of Daub already, he just had a funny way of showing it.

Daub's head appeared once more in the doorway. "That's that, then. Goodnight!" Kirkcaldy waved a little farewell at him and Daub was gone.

A moment later, he was back. "Did you want me to tuck you in?" he asked. Kirkcaldy was still sitting on top of the bedspread. She looked at him, not certain of the phrase's meaning. "Were you waiting for Bart?"

Kirkcaldy shook her head, figuring dyadin was already in pre-sleep meditation by this point. Daub went to her bedside and helped her under the covers. It was much warmer there with a good three layers of cloth to insulate her. She huddled down. Daub turned off the light.

Through the window, she could hear the sound of insects and smell the fresh spring air. If she closed her eyes she could pretend she was outside.

Daub's voice rumbled over the drifting sound of the insects: "Goodnight, Kirkcaldy." He headed once more for the door.

Suddenly, Kirkcaldy was a little afraid. So dark, so chilly, no dyadin. "Daub!" she squeaked, stopping him t the foot of her bed.

"Yes?"

She said nothing, not sure what she needed or wanted.

"Are you scared?"

She shrugged and mumbled indistinctly through the covers, more lonely than scared. The floorboards creaked as Daub returned to the bedside. He sat himself down on the floor, leaning with his elbow up on the bed next to her. "How about a lullaby?"

Kirkcaldy wasn't familiar with the word, but then Daub started to sing, slowly and softly. "It is a cold winter, away is the songbird, and gone is her traveler, she waits at home." His voice was sweet and clear. "The sun is on holiday, no leaves on the trees. The animals sleep while cold north wind blows."

Kirkcaldy settled down on top of Daub's arm, sighing happily and resting her head on his sleeve. Even though she did not have her dyadin, she could drift away happily listening to Daub's song. "The snowflakes are falling, the roof a white blanket. There's ice on the window pane, she waits alone." Soothed by the words, Kirkcaldy's breathing slowed and her mind quieted. "She sits by the fireside, the room is so warm. Her children are sleeping she waits in their home."

Daub continued as Kirkcaldy settled, first for comfort on his arm, and then into slumber. "It is a long winer, away is the summer. She waits for her traveler so far from home. She sits by the fireside, the room is so warm. There's ice on the window, she's lonely alone."

The room became still as Daub ran out of lyric. Kirkcaldy sighed as she slept. Daub sat there, waiting, motionless so as not to wake her, until he was sure she was totally asleep. Only then would he shift her from his arm to her pillow and slip away from her room.

Across the hallway, through the corridor of open doors, n'Barit listened, hoping for a continuation of the song, but there was nothing. Only silence. N'Barit gently closed the door to his room. That was good. Kirkcaldy deserved such things in her life. N'Barit turned the key Daub had given him, locking the door. All the windows in his room were closed. He lay down in the corner of the room on the floor and went to sleep.  

[romesilk]

There were a lot of rooms in Daub's house, at least in Kirkcaldy's estimation. She had never before lived in a house and felt a little closed in compared to the open sky she and n'Barit had slept under (when it wasn't raining), but what fun there was to be had exploring! Every door held some hidden treasure, every room a mess of interesting objects, and Kirkcaldy just had to pick up and examine everything.

Never before had she had such freedom, because n'Barit had always watched her every move, and it was intoxicating. N'Barit had gone through the house and done a water blessing in each room to purify it, so Kirkcaldy was allowed to walk where she pleased. At first, she stayed near to n'Barit, but within a few days she started looking around and exploring because n'Barit had wanted to take a nap one day and she wasn't tired, and Daub said it was okay to touch ANYTHING and she just wandered around the house, propelled by a path of interesting objects.

It could be a little overwhelming. On the one hand, this house was smaller than the whole of the great outdoors she had enjoyed before, but on the other hand, it was a lot bigger than the surface of the single towel n'Barit had allowed her previously. Such a wonderful dichotomy! It seemed to make a sort of sense to her. Sacrifice one thing to gain another, the balance maintained in the universe.

N'Barit was having a little bit of trouble with her wandering. Sure, he had blessed all the rooms and the place was pure now, but... he couldn't help but to try and check up on Kirkcaldy every hour or less, just to know where she was and what she was doing, and to give himself something to do. He didn't have to look after Kirkcaldy every single minute and it left him with a lot of time.

He partially filled it with telling Daub about Yuul and the barrigaters, which was enough for hours, but n'Barit eventually tired if he talked for more than an hour or two. Daub had so many questions. Then there were the times that Daub was busy cleaning (somewhat poorly) and cooking (somewhat poorly) and when it became clear Daub could simply not handle doing a task and conversing simultaneously, n'Barit had to forego discussion. So he used some of Daub's inks and paper and drew the picts of the text and hung them up in the living room like wallpaper. He had plenty of time and could afford to be a**l, tearing up any page that failed to meet exacting specifications. It not that, he would gather up Kirkcaldy and take Daub and go for walks around the house, or even venture onto the streets of the neighborhood, listening to Daub prattle on about nothing as Kirkcaldy listened intently, whether or not she understood the subject. N'Barit even went so far as to head down to the lake by himself for an hour, once he had ensured Daub understood to look after Kirkcaldy, and the trip went well.

N'Barit figured out very quickly that Daub was lost in more ways than the directional. Their host (or tenant, if you accepted Daub's transferral of the house's ownership to n'Barit) had good days and bad. Most of the time, Daub was just a manic, prattling idiot, full of questions and enthusiasm for whatever he was doing. He could also on occasion become so out of it that he forgot his own name and could not carry a conversation for more than two minutes. And then there were the days he was both. The more days went by, good or bad, the more n'Barit grew to think that maybe he had been right. He was meant to come here and find this lost man, and give him the teaching, and shepherd Daub and Kirkcaldy in a sort of ragtag abomination of a prefecture stumbling towards purity. The prefecture of the lost. It was an idea verging on the abhorrent, and yet, n'Barit thought there might actually be something in it.

It wasn't life as predicted for any of them, but it was certainly life worth living.  

[romesilk]

Time for post bumping. XD I should have known it would take more than a bit of planning!

-Dress-up goes here, then do the jukebox in the post after (or dressup AND jukebox), and THEN:
-Daub gets desperate and makes a very bad mistake. N'Barit and Kirkcaldy leave.-
-N'Barit and Kirkcaldy meet Alice-  

[romesilk]

-N'Barit and Kirkcaldy return. Daub went to look for them, even went to the Bridge, but didn't stay because he didn't want to get lost. Progress!-