Post by Joliette Thorne on Jul 27, 2007 5:34:14 GMT -5
Tenebrae was seated at the far side of a desk overcrowded with the crumbling parchment maps of far-flung lands, books stacked to either side to keep the edges curling, and was largely invisible among a pile of motley paper, barbarian bone-helmets, bags of dryad-shavings, the art of some exotic taxidermist who clearly had a penchant for triple-headed beasts, and sundry obscure musical instruments. There'd be barely room to move, except for a small clearing in the center of the room where sat a single timber stool, beside which paced the gnomish elven trader to whom the mayhem belonged. Raven-feather quill in teeth, the vampiress would shoot Buckley a look that might have withered the Xalious oak. Rolling a parchment up to tuck to her pack, Tene took the pen from her mouth, her brow knitting to a sere expression of disapproval. "You might have told me it ate other things too," she chided. "Damn near lost my best barmaid, and have to keep it caged for fear of.."
Cheerily the elf chimed in, making it obvious he had not been listening. "Butter. Sixteen pounds, you said. And the potions? Potions, potions... hm." He'd scrabble in a shelf loaded with bags and bottles, along which crept a green scorpion the breadth of an ogre's hand. "I'll have to order them in. Tea? Yes, the mountain-flower blend."
Bast stood outside for a long moment, admiring the redwood construction for a brief moment of aesthetic value before he consciously tightened his grip around his gnarled walking stick he held so dear. It had been nearly two days since he had sat within the Hanging Corpse Tavern, his first venture into real society in what was possibly a year, although he never had the mind to keep track of such a trivial thing such as time. In those two days he had diligently posted watch at various places of interest, interrogating people he saw fit with his insistent, studious and rather peculiar methods. Marti had been the most helpful, having given him the name of the woman who had disappeared into the trap door that wicked evening. Tenebrae.. The name still echoed in the back of his mind, and he forced out visions of his past as he promptly reminded himself of reality. Approaching the door with his obvious limp, he didn't pause to deliberate or consider his course of action, he simply raised a small, worn tin cup to the shack door and banged rather loudly on its wooden frame. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed through the threshold, hair windswept over his face from the rather perilous journey to reach this summit, he hobbled inside quietly, the one sound betraying his presence (beyond that of the tin cup) was the soft creak of the door and the mild thud of his walking stick across the worn floor.
Cuki stares at his clan mother, a strange an amused light in his eyes. Not quite knowing what is talking place simply observes. The monk's entrance follows shortly behind Bast. Shortly he takes his place aside Tenebrae with little ceremony.
"Mountain-tea, of course.." The wizened elf lifted a kettle half his own height to set on the small black iron stove in the far corner of the room, the base of it taking up the entire cook-top’s surface. ".. reminds me of a harpy I knew, lovely lass, if a little clumsy with her claws." neither Bast's entrance, nor that of Cuki's thereafter, was immediately acknowledged openly, though Buckley would climb on a stack of crates from which emitted various squeaks and grindings of teeth, and one that leaked glittering dust from a hole chewed in a corner of it by a rat that had perished not long after and remained now only as a bright purple stain on the boards below. Stepping up on tiptoe to reach a stoppered pot and two extra cups, he clambered down and continued. "Had a taste for mer-folk flesh, and took to swooping on their young from the spawning-pools morning and night. It was a terrible business..." He shuffled back to the stove. "They devised a net that would spring upward, some construction of whalebone and kelp, if the story's right, and entangled the harpy. Upon which she fell into the sea amid a pod of furious mer-parents. So.. that'd be the end of her, you'd think?" A teapot was rescued from imminent shattering as it wobbled on the edge of the desk Tenebrae sat at. "But one night she was observed to be crawling out of the water, all bedraggled wings and squid in her hair, clawing along the sand, moaning. A kindly sailor took it upon himself to put her out of her misery, but was soon prevented by a glance from the unfortunate creature, on which he was shrivelled to a meatless husk, a living skeleton, it could be said.. " Oblivious to the goings-on, or so it appeared, Buckley prepared and poured four cups of tea. "But he lived to tell the tale.. and it's whispered that the harpy, poor soul, had been de-legged, and in place of those limbs was roughly sewn the lower extremities of an octopus." He made a little harrumphing sound. "Which rather put an end to our tryst. I mean, managing eagle-claws is one thing, a beak ringed by tentacles quite another.."
By now, Tene was staring at Cuki, head canting aside toward the elf, as if to say, "Is he for real?" Bast was eyed suspiciously, recognised as the taciturn patron he'd been a few nights prior. Buckley bustled to hand each a delicate china cup, so fine as to be near-translucent, filled with a sweet-smelling and milky brew.
Bast paid no mind to the blabbering of the creature speaking of mer-folk and harpy-catching, he simply turned his back from them to make sure the door was firmly shut, and if possible latched shut, although the latter he was less was concerned about. He went about this business with a calm, collected demeanour, making careful note of the arrival that took the side of the woman behind the mounds of maps and paperwork. After the door was more or less secure enough for his satisfaction, Bast turned and began to weave his way through the myriad assortment of trinkets and treasures, laying heavily into the support of his stick. He made no immediate gesture to anyone, simply finding a better position as to which to take a very detailed look at this.. Tenebrae. For a long moment, nearly a few yards away, he quietly watched without making a motion or sound, simply curling his index finger to scratch beneath his nose, a rather frequent habit he had when perturbed by deep thought. A wretched cough roared from the depth of his chest, and he produced a small gray cloth, stained red, to patch away the splotches of blood that had formed at the corner of his lips. It was only after he had tucked away his handkerchief that he spoke, his voice was rather quiet and smooth, but commanded a particular certainty, "I have labored well in catching up to you, there are few willing to part with much more then a tidbit, until I was fortunate enough to encounter.. Marti, was it? Poor thing, I don't think she ever realized. ." Bast's voice trailed off into silence, gazing away for a moment before he spoke again, only offering one word, "Tenebrae.."
Cuki swats at the bothersome elf. "Shoo" Clutching at Tenebrae's sleeve an annoyance is clear upon the usually soft face. "I don't believe people who talk more than they listen." That being said attention is turned to the man who entered before him. A certain manner follows the behaviour of the newcomer, something he comments to Tenebrae in a whisper, "What a strange sickly man."
Tenebrae accepted her tea into cupped hands with a nod of thanks toward Buckley, who'd for now fallen silent at Cuki's reproving dismissal, to sulk among a three-sided pyramid of stacked cans labelled 'Leviathan Soup'. She nodded to Cuki's words, eyes shifting the way of the priest, and savoured the herbal aroma rising from the tea with an air of utter calm as Bast spoke, lowering her lips to the rim for a sip, so as not to spill the steaming liquid that brimmed on the vessel's porcelain edge. At length she set her cup down carefully among the paperwork she'd laboured at, maps copied left for brightly-coloured inks to dry, lists of items, other business, and looked up again to the less familiar man. "I do hope for your sake you left my barmaid hale and unmarked.." Her tone was sere as a desert-wind, and she'd take note of the sanguine spottage on his lips when he was done being wracked for a breath. "I'd not mind knowing, as well, why it is you'd see fit to track me, even through a maelstrom. Something on your mind?"
Bast allowed a low chuckle to escape his cracked lips, lowering his gaze for a moment as he raised his hand as if to signal a visual apology for his outburst. As the laughter died out against the howling winds outside, Bast remained with a impish grin. A hand raised and fingers directed at his chest, his smile almost mocking yet his tone remained cool and sharp, "Oh, come now. You could suspect me of such treachery on our first, well - second encounter, I'm slightly disappointed in your judgement." It was difficult to tell if his words were mocking or serious in their nature, he paced slowly around another pile of inventory was a distinguishable limp, "You wouldn't think a harmless, -sickly-" he said with emphasis, "thing such as myself would be capable of such an act? I'm merely a harmless hermit, but a rather.. inquisitive one." Making no further motion, he paused after he had closed the gap a full yard, leaning both hands on the withered staff as his unwavering gaze fixed to the woman as she sipped on her steaming brew. Something was off about the man, that was for certain, as if he hid something terrible that could not be placed.
Cuki draws his spear closer. A tip of steel and copper jingles ever so slightly as it is tipped low in a protective motion. One foot is inched closer as the Monk places himself between the two. "What is this man, deary? I do not like him already..."
Outside, the supernatural and forking crack of lighting shook the hut's staunch construction, and the single sand-etched window, necessarily composed of tougher minerals than reconstituted silica, rattled in its frame. Allowing a moment for the din to recede, Tenebrae took the time to return the stranger's deliberate perusal. Ominously ingenuous as his words were, her neck prickling a warning, she would betray no concern, and in fact had little to show had she not had such self-control. "I don't believe you." Flat, to-the-point, the comment was levelled toward Bast before she'd reach across the desk, risking the collapse of the various book-stacks there, to grasp Cuki by the shoulder, a quiet mutter spoken: "I don't know, and I don't like him much, either. But hold, for now, dear Cuki." She didn't bother whispering; Tene was less one for sly machinations, at least as far as those that might be presented in such company. The vampiress released her grip, taking her seat, and returned her chill gaze to the lung-afflicted 'hermit'. "Nobody goes to all this trouble, out of mere idle curiosity. Besides..." She flared her nostrils for effect. "You stink of deception."
Bast lingered in thought for a moment, shifting his gaze to some minute particles of dust that illuminated in the light of the hut, apparently disturbed in the wake of the thunderous clap of lightning overhead. Making a slow, limping step to his left, which would widen the gap slightly between the three, his eyes glazed lazily over a few book spines as if half interested. After another moment of silence, letting them stew in their thoughts, he spoke once more, showing very little concern of the spear and it's handler, "How can I deceive you if I have yet to even part with any information, lest you call defending myself against baseless accusations deceitful - although I suppose I would not put it past one of your ilk." Again the mocking smile curled over his pale lips as he continued, "It's just that it has been quite some time, Tenebrae, quite some time .. since I decided to.. express interest in current events." Another pause, as if he was carefully picking his words, "Perhaps not events in all, mayhap.. just yours."
Tenebrae would roll her eyes ceilingward briefly, jewelline gaze resting on Bast again after. "Which was my point, really. That, I mean, you do seem overly interested in me." A clatter from the direction of the stack of cans had her attention drawn there, and she'd spy Buckley, his affability vanished, stalking around the display toward the shelf of potions, where he'd set to straightening lines of bottles and swatting irritably at the overgrown scorpion. No doubt the reclusive elf was less than impressed with being ignored, and even more chagrined at business being interrupted so. Tenebrae wasn't long in returning her gaze to the apparently restless Bast. "Let's just clear a few things up, shall we? First, I said you reeked of deception. Your odour.. " her smile was thin, curved as a cut-throat's knife. "... the sweat of a liar. Secondly, you know nothing of my 'ilk', and have no basis on which to presume judgement upon it. Now, if you'd stop tiptoeing about, and get to the marrow of why you're so fascinated, we might get about whatever business you have with me.."
Bast allowed another hollow chuckle, covering his lips with a frail palm as it twisted into a brief fit of coughing. Apparently amused, he paused in his semi-circle and cast her a sidelong glance. He drew a long, deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. As if he was picturing something fond in his memory, a faint smile curled over his lips and he seemed dazed in the still dimness of the hut. After a moment, Bast let out a quiet sigh and he finally turned his attention back to Tenebrae, having completely ignored the other during the entirety of his visit, he said finally, "This is a delicate matter and I fear I may have underestimated your resolve," he closed the gap rather quickly for a man with a limp leg, now hovering over the table in complete disregard of the spear less then a foot from him. He leaned, carefully placing his palms as to not topple a pile of books. An odd pressure extended in his wake, as if surrounding him, and he spoke in a low, grave tone, eyes becoming blue slits, "I do not know why, you... you.." A rumbling shake, as if his rage stirred the storm outside as the hut shook, but no thunder clapped. "You, Tenebrae.." Was all he could offer, he did not cough, but a thin line of blood trickled down his chin.
She'd remain staring at the priest flatly, lips compressing.. his reticence was wearing her patience thin, and she much to do this day, still. "So, for what fell purpose was I chosen, and by what lunatic cult or deity?" It wasn't as though it didn't happen to her, from time to time. Bast's insidious behaviour held all the marks of some 'surprise' or other, just around the corner. "I haven't got all day." She'd tuck the quill behind one ear, sup the rest of her tea. Cuki stood quiescent, as she'd asked, and that airborne tremor would stop upon reaching him, as a breeze by a windowpane. The antimage would glance to Tene, who shook her head slightly, her own eyes still fixed on Bast.
Bast never finished his sentence, staring intently at Tenebrae for a moment that hinged, as if stuck indefinitely. Carefully he removed his frail hands from the desk, his eyes seemed to lose their intensity but remained fixated on the woman. Leaning his walking stick against the table, he plucked up a tome from the desk, flipped to a random page and held the spine with one hand. Craning his neck, he dug into his haversack with his free hand and procured something so small it was concealed in the palm of his hand. He placed the item within the stiff pages of the book and snapped it shut, setting it back down to its rightful place. A sad, hovering gloom had made Bast's face appear ghast. Ever so carefully he placed his index finger on top of the same tome, making four marks in the dusty coating with swift, art-like strokes. Without a word, he limped away towards the threshold, clutched the door and twisted the handle, hobbling half way out the door and into the maelstrom before he paused, looking over his shoulder. A solemn, unfamiliar tone preceded his speech, and he spoke only four words, "You have her eyes." Without any hesitation, he pushed away and out the door, leaving it cracked. As simple as that, he had faded into the shadowed moonlight. Upon examination of the tome he had left behind, the marks spelled out a name, Bast; and within their folded pages, a white daisy lay crushed, a daisy that was dead, and had dried and withered long ago.
Tenebrae had expected an attack. Perhaps some looming threat, a bolt of magic, but not this sadness.. And then the priest was gone, leaving behind the mysterious text; she mouthed the word.. the name?.. made by the lines cut in the dust. Whose eyes? Was Bast her name, or his? She opened the book, the paged falling to the spot where was pressed a desiccated flower. This was examined, her long gaze disrupted by Buckley, who'd bolt the door firmly after the self-proclaimed hermit.
"Strange fellow," mused the elf, as though he had any right to talk.
"Aye," Tene replied, and without further comment made preparation for her journey back to the Dark Lands.
Cheerily the elf chimed in, making it obvious he had not been listening. "Butter. Sixteen pounds, you said. And the potions? Potions, potions... hm." He'd scrabble in a shelf loaded with bags and bottles, along which crept a green scorpion the breadth of an ogre's hand. "I'll have to order them in. Tea? Yes, the mountain-flower blend."
Bast stood outside for a long moment, admiring the redwood construction for a brief moment of aesthetic value before he consciously tightened his grip around his gnarled walking stick he held so dear. It had been nearly two days since he had sat within the Hanging Corpse Tavern, his first venture into real society in what was possibly a year, although he never had the mind to keep track of such a trivial thing such as time. In those two days he had diligently posted watch at various places of interest, interrogating people he saw fit with his insistent, studious and rather peculiar methods. Marti had been the most helpful, having given him the name of the woman who had disappeared into the trap door that wicked evening. Tenebrae.. The name still echoed in the back of his mind, and he forced out visions of his past as he promptly reminded himself of reality. Approaching the door with his obvious limp, he didn't pause to deliberate or consider his course of action, he simply raised a small, worn tin cup to the shack door and banged rather loudly on its wooden frame. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed through the threshold, hair windswept over his face from the rather perilous journey to reach this summit, he hobbled inside quietly, the one sound betraying his presence (beyond that of the tin cup) was the soft creak of the door and the mild thud of his walking stick across the worn floor.
Cuki stares at his clan mother, a strange an amused light in his eyes. Not quite knowing what is talking place simply observes. The monk's entrance follows shortly behind Bast. Shortly he takes his place aside Tenebrae with little ceremony.
"Mountain-tea, of course.." The wizened elf lifted a kettle half his own height to set on the small black iron stove in the far corner of the room, the base of it taking up the entire cook-top’s surface. ".. reminds me of a harpy I knew, lovely lass, if a little clumsy with her claws." neither Bast's entrance, nor that of Cuki's thereafter, was immediately acknowledged openly, though Buckley would climb on a stack of crates from which emitted various squeaks and grindings of teeth, and one that leaked glittering dust from a hole chewed in a corner of it by a rat that had perished not long after and remained now only as a bright purple stain on the boards below. Stepping up on tiptoe to reach a stoppered pot and two extra cups, he clambered down and continued. "Had a taste for mer-folk flesh, and took to swooping on their young from the spawning-pools morning and night. It was a terrible business..." He shuffled back to the stove. "They devised a net that would spring upward, some construction of whalebone and kelp, if the story's right, and entangled the harpy. Upon which she fell into the sea amid a pod of furious mer-parents. So.. that'd be the end of her, you'd think?" A teapot was rescued from imminent shattering as it wobbled on the edge of the desk Tenebrae sat at. "But one night she was observed to be crawling out of the water, all bedraggled wings and squid in her hair, clawing along the sand, moaning. A kindly sailor took it upon himself to put her out of her misery, but was soon prevented by a glance from the unfortunate creature, on which he was shrivelled to a meatless husk, a living skeleton, it could be said.. " Oblivious to the goings-on, or so it appeared, Buckley prepared and poured four cups of tea. "But he lived to tell the tale.. and it's whispered that the harpy, poor soul, had been de-legged, and in place of those limbs was roughly sewn the lower extremities of an octopus." He made a little harrumphing sound. "Which rather put an end to our tryst. I mean, managing eagle-claws is one thing, a beak ringed by tentacles quite another.."
By now, Tene was staring at Cuki, head canting aside toward the elf, as if to say, "Is he for real?" Bast was eyed suspiciously, recognised as the taciturn patron he'd been a few nights prior. Buckley bustled to hand each a delicate china cup, so fine as to be near-translucent, filled with a sweet-smelling and milky brew.
Bast paid no mind to the blabbering of the creature speaking of mer-folk and harpy-catching, he simply turned his back from them to make sure the door was firmly shut, and if possible latched shut, although the latter he was less was concerned about. He went about this business with a calm, collected demeanour, making careful note of the arrival that took the side of the woman behind the mounds of maps and paperwork. After the door was more or less secure enough for his satisfaction, Bast turned and began to weave his way through the myriad assortment of trinkets and treasures, laying heavily into the support of his stick. He made no immediate gesture to anyone, simply finding a better position as to which to take a very detailed look at this.. Tenebrae. For a long moment, nearly a few yards away, he quietly watched without making a motion or sound, simply curling his index finger to scratch beneath his nose, a rather frequent habit he had when perturbed by deep thought. A wretched cough roared from the depth of his chest, and he produced a small gray cloth, stained red, to patch away the splotches of blood that had formed at the corner of his lips. It was only after he had tucked away his handkerchief that he spoke, his voice was rather quiet and smooth, but commanded a particular certainty, "I have labored well in catching up to you, there are few willing to part with much more then a tidbit, until I was fortunate enough to encounter.. Marti, was it? Poor thing, I don't think she ever realized. ." Bast's voice trailed off into silence, gazing away for a moment before he spoke again, only offering one word, "Tenebrae.."
Cuki swats at the bothersome elf. "Shoo" Clutching at Tenebrae's sleeve an annoyance is clear upon the usually soft face. "I don't believe people who talk more than they listen." That being said attention is turned to the man who entered before him. A certain manner follows the behaviour of the newcomer, something he comments to Tenebrae in a whisper, "What a strange sickly man."
Tenebrae accepted her tea into cupped hands with a nod of thanks toward Buckley, who'd for now fallen silent at Cuki's reproving dismissal, to sulk among a three-sided pyramid of stacked cans labelled 'Leviathan Soup'. She nodded to Cuki's words, eyes shifting the way of the priest, and savoured the herbal aroma rising from the tea with an air of utter calm as Bast spoke, lowering her lips to the rim for a sip, so as not to spill the steaming liquid that brimmed on the vessel's porcelain edge. At length she set her cup down carefully among the paperwork she'd laboured at, maps copied left for brightly-coloured inks to dry, lists of items, other business, and looked up again to the less familiar man. "I do hope for your sake you left my barmaid hale and unmarked.." Her tone was sere as a desert-wind, and she'd take note of the sanguine spottage on his lips when he was done being wracked for a breath. "I'd not mind knowing, as well, why it is you'd see fit to track me, even through a maelstrom. Something on your mind?"
Bast allowed a low chuckle to escape his cracked lips, lowering his gaze for a moment as he raised his hand as if to signal a visual apology for his outburst. As the laughter died out against the howling winds outside, Bast remained with a impish grin. A hand raised and fingers directed at his chest, his smile almost mocking yet his tone remained cool and sharp, "Oh, come now. You could suspect me of such treachery on our first, well - second encounter, I'm slightly disappointed in your judgement." It was difficult to tell if his words were mocking or serious in their nature, he paced slowly around another pile of inventory was a distinguishable limp, "You wouldn't think a harmless, -sickly-" he said with emphasis, "thing such as myself would be capable of such an act? I'm merely a harmless hermit, but a rather.. inquisitive one." Making no further motion, he paused after he had closed the gap a full yard, leaning both hands on the withered staff as his unwavering gaze fixed to the woman as she sipped on her steaming brew. Something was off about the man, that was for certain, as if he hid something terrible that could not be placed.
Cuki draws his spear closer. A tip of steel and copper jingles ever so slightly as it is tipped low in a protective motion. One foot is inched closer as the Monk places himself between the two. "What is this man, deary? I do not like him already..."
Outside, the supernatural and forking crack of lighting shook the hut's staunch construction, and the single sand-etched window, necessarily composed of tougher minerals than reconstituted silica, rattled in its frame. Allowing a moment for the din to recede, Tenebrae took the time to return the stranger's deliberate perusal. Ominously ingenuous as his words were, her neck prickling a warning, she would betray no concern, and in fact had little to show had she not had such self-control. "I don't believe you." Flat, to-the-point, the comment was levelled toward Bast before she'd reach across the desk, risking the collapse of the various book-stacks there, to grasp Cuki by the shoulder, a quiet mutter spoken: "I don't know, and I don't like him much, either. But hold, for now, dear Cuki." She didn't bother whispering; Tene was less one for sly machinations, at least as far as those that might be presented in such company. The vampiress released her grip, taking her seat, and returned her chill gaze to the lung-afflicted 'hermit'. "Nobody goes to all this trouble, out of mere idle curiosity. Besides..." She flared her nostrils for effect. "You stink of deception."
Bast lingered in thought for a moment, shifting his gaze to some minute particles of dust that illuminated in the light of the hut, apparently disturbed in the wake of the thunderous clap of lightning overhead. Making a slow, limping step to his left, which would widen the gap slightly between the three, his eyes glazed lazily over a few book spines as if half interested. After another moment of silence, letting them stew in their thoughts, he spoke once more, showing very little concern of the spear and it's handler, "How can I deceive you if I have yet to even part with any information, lest you call defending myself against baseless accusations deceitful - although I suppose I would not put it past one of your ilk." Again the mocking smile curled over his pale lips as he continued, "It's just that it has been quite some time, Tenebrae, quite some time .. since I decided to.. express interest in current events." Another pause, as if he was carefully picking his words, "Perhaps not events in all, mayhap.. just yours."
Tenebrae would roll her eyes ceilingward briefly, jewelline gaze resting on Bast again after. "Which was my point, really. That, I mean, you do seem overly interested in me." A clatter from the direction of the stack of cans had her attention drawn there, and she'd spy Buckley, his affability vanished, stalking around the display toward the shelf of potions, where he'd set to straightening lines of bottles and swatting irritably at the overgrown scorpion. No doubt the reclusive elf was less than impressed with being ignored, and even more chagrined at business being interrupted so. Tenebrae wasn't long in returning her gaze to the apparently restless Bast. "Let's just clear a few things up, shall we? First, I said you reeked of deception. Your odour.. " her smile was thin, curved as a cut-throat's knife. "... the sweat of a liar. Secondly, you know nothing of my 'ilk', and have no basis on which to presume judgement upon it. Now, if you'd stop tiptoeing about, and get to the marrow of why you're so fascinated, we might get about whatever business you have with me.."
Bast allowed another hollow chuckle, covering his lips with a frail palm as it twisted into a brief fit of coughing. Apparently amused, he paused in his semi-circle and cast her a sidelong glance. He drew a long, deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. As if he was picturing something fond in his memory, a faint smile curled over his lips and he seemed dazed in the still dimness of the hut. After a moment, Bast let out a quiet sigh and he finally turned his attention back to Tenebrae, having completely ignored the other during the entirety of his visit, he said finally, "This is a delicate matter and I fear I may have underestimated your resolve," he closed the gap rather quickly for a man with a limp leg, now hovering over the table in complete disregard of the spear less then a foot from him. He leaned, carefully placing his palms as to not topple a pile of books. An odd pressure extended in his wake, as if surrounding him, and he spoke in a low, grave tone, eyes becoming blue slits, "I do not know why, you... you.." A rumbling shake, as if his rage stirred the storm outside as the hut shook, but no thunder clapped. "You, Tenebrae.." Was all he could offer, he did not cough, but a thin line of blood trickled down his chin.
She'd remain staring at the priest flatly, lips compressing.. his reticence was wearing her patience thin, and she much to do this day, still. "So, for what fell purpose was I chosen, and by what lunatic cult or deity?" It wasn't as though it didn't happen to her, from time to time. Bast's insidious behaviour held all the marks of some 'surprise' or other, just around the corner. "I haven't got all day." She'd tuck the quill behind one ear, sup the rest of her tea. Cuki stood quiescent, as she'd asked, and that airborne tremor would stop upon reaching him, as a breeze by a windowpane. The antimage would glance to Tene, who shook her head slightly, her own eyes still fixed on Bast.
Bast never finished his sentence, staring intently at Tenebrae for a moment that hinged, as if stuck indefinitely. Carefully he removed his frail hands from the desk, his eyes seemed to lose their intensity but remained fixated on the woman. Leaning his walking stick against the table, he plucked up a tome from the desk, flipped to a random page and held the spine with one hand. Craning his neck, he dug into his haversack with his free hand and procured something so small it was concealed in the palm of his hand. He placed the item within the stiff pages of the book and snapped it shut, setting it back down to its rightful place. A sad, hovering gloom had made Bast's face appear ghast. Ever so carefully he placed his index finger on top of the same tome, making four marks in the dusty coating with swift, art-like strokes. Without a word, he limped away towards the threshold, clutched the door and twisted the handle, hobbling half way out the door and into the maelstrom before he paused, looking over his shoulder. A solemn, unfamiliar tone preceded his speech, and he spoke only four words, "You have her eyes." Without any hesitation, he pushed away and out the door, leaving it cracked. As simple as that, he had faded into the shadowed moonlight. Upon examination of the tome he had left behind, the marks spelled out a name, Bast; and within their folded pages, a white daisy lay crushed, a daisy that was dead, and had dried and withered long ago.
Tenebrae had expected an attack. Perhaps some looming threat, a bolt of magic, but not this sadness.. And then the priest was gone, leaving behind the mysterious text; she mouthed the word.. the name?.. made by the lines cut in the dust. Whose eyes? Was Bast her name, or his? She opened the book, the paged falling to the spot where was pressed a desiccated flower. This was examined, her long gaze disrupted by Buckley, who'd bolt the door firmly after the self-proclaimed hermit.
"Strange fellow," mused the elf, as though he had any right to talk.
"Aye," Tene replied, and without further comment made preparation for her journey back to the Dark Lands.