Episode 29 | Calm Heart

Windshell activates.

Scene starts where the last one cut off. The Koshoryce outside is stomping it’s hoofs and bellows, as its horns scrape the wooden walls of the shrine.

Raka:The windshell was supposed to warn us of these things, Lyn!

Lyn:Sorry! I forgot, alright? And you didn’t notice it, either!

Oþan:YOU LEAD A KHORPAN’HAKKARIS TO MY SHRINE?!

Laika:(concerned) A corpse dancer?

Malaki:(groans) Too loud…

Lyn:I told you it wasn’t good to get civilians involved!

Raka:(stressed out) Yes! I’m sorry! That thing is what chased us to the cliff our friend fell off from-

Outside the Koshoryce bellows, snorts and rams it’s horns into the side of the shrine.

Oþan:(angry) Pretentious Khorpan’Vær!

She jumps up into the beams of the shrine and puts up a barrier.

Oþan:Try to break through my shrine NOW, you cocky piece of rot!

The Koshoryce wails, as it tries to ram its way through the shrine’s walls.

Oþan:Oh sure, try that all you want, you boisterous decaying scrap of dead animal! You won’t get through my barrier with your puny horns! I won’t let you harm my Mortal!

Raka:Fiyar’ta… I think I need to take care of this.

Oþan:Oh, and what are YOU going to do about this, Patcher- banish it?

Raka:I… I’m not sure yet…

Oþan:(scoffs) And ruin all that reputation with the fourteen you’ve worked so hard for?!

Raka:(slight anger) I already burned that bridge when I forced Ferryce to help me find Malaki last night-

Malaki:Hng… Stop shouting!

Raka:Sorry…

Oþan:Don’t be ridiculous, Ferryce is too obsessed with the bonds between you mortals to consider THAT a breach of your Oath!

Ferryce:(sighs) I’d prefer if you didn’t speak that way about me, Oþan.

Oþan:Suck it, Ferryce, we both know it’s true.

Ferryce:(scoffs) Perhaps. But don’t I deserve to keep a little secret of my own?

Oþan:No.

The Koshoryce scrapes its horns along the house wall.

Raka:Fiyar’ta- Oþan, please allow me to go outside, I… I can-

Oþan:Burn the fur that your companion values so highly?

Malaki:(weakly) No… please…

Raka:That’s not what I was going to-

Oþan:You should know better than lying to yourself, Raka! If causing him to fall down a cliff wasn’t enough for you yet, go ahead and ruin the last memento of his brother for him.

Malaki:No…

Raka:(stressed) I don’t know how else to get rid of a Khorpan’hakkaris!

Oþan:Face it, YOU can’t! You mortals are too weak, physically and spiritually!

Lyn:Uuuh, burn…

Oþan:And I don’t appreciate thoughts of “getting rid” of lower Vær in MY shrine, no matter how much damage they do to you mortals!

Raka:(growling in frustration)

Laika:Settle down, both of you. Raka, Othan will protect us.

Raka:But I…

Laika:We’ll be safe until it leaves. So please, sit down. Let us focus on your friend’s injuries.

Raka:Fine…

Raka sits back down beside Malaki. Laika wrings out another piece of cloth.

The Koshoryce stomps and snorts outside, then begins to trot around the shrine, scraping its horn against the Shrine’s walls.

Oþan:I swear if find just one more dent in my Shrine, I’ll personally banish you myself, you insolent Vær!

Lyn:I think that thing already broke a hole into the front hall…

Oþan:Collateral damage. I can’t do anything about that thing right now, besides keeping the barrier up to avoid further damage. Raka!

Raka:(slightly shocked) Y-yes?

Oþan:The hole in the front hall is on you.

Raka:It… I’m sorry.

Oþan:Apologies won’t fix my shrine. I demand compensation.

Raka:I will… fix it. Once it leaves.

Oþan:No. I want compensation now.

Raka:Now?

Oþan:Entertain us. Tell us a story.

Raka:A… story?

Oþan:Yes.

Raka:I don’t… I’m sorry, I don’t know any stories-

Oþan:Yes, you do. Tell us the story of the tangleweave in Vurokoroþ.

Laika:Vurokoroth? The “Calm Heart”.

Oþan:Yes. Tell us about Vuroraka.

Raka:Vurora- How do you-… (she gulps, then takes a deep breath) Alright. This… is probably long overdue.

Oþan:Precisely.

Lyn:Uh, storytime!

Laika:Oooh!

Lyn:Is it a story about a tangleweave?

Laika:I would like to know more about that.

Raka:Malaki, are you awake?

Malaki:(groans, a little drowsy) Sometimes… the seeds…

Raka:Try to stay awake. This… is important.

Lyn:I thought you were wide awake?

Laika:A temporary rush. It fades after a while and leaves the taker weary and tired. Nothing to worry about.

Malaki:(rattling) Continue skinning me alive. That’ll keep me awake.

Raka:Alright…

Raka slaps a wet cloth against Malaki’s open wounds, and Malaki flinches.

Laika plucks a hot cloth out of the kettle, squeezes the water out, then hands it to Raka.

Raka:(takes a deep breath) Many years ago, in a small village called Vurokoroþ, lived a young, but naïve Miru. She had only recently come into her inheritance as the headmistress of Vurokoroþ, but she lacked experience and was very self-conscious. The villagers often spoke about her, uncertain whether or not she had the leadership skills necessary to properly fill the position as headmistress. So to solidify her position, she sought to produce a sturdy heir. Because what better way to show the people around you that you are capable of a leadership role than by reproducing, right?

Lyn:Sure!

Raka wipes the cloth against Malaki’s wounds and he winces uncomfortably again.

Raka:The village was built along a very well-travelled trade route, and there was no shortage of potential sires among the travelers that passed through. It didn’t take her long to find one she thought suitable. However, the sire she chose neglected to… inform her, that there was an ounce of grey fur down his pedigree. And, inevitably, the grey fur was passed on to the mistress’s offspring, whom she named Vuroraka.

Lyn:Wait, Vuroraka? Grey fur? Is this a story about you?

Raka:No. This is a story about Vuroraka. A similar name, but not the same.

Lyn:Oooh. Okay.

Raka:Vuroraka’s mother was not a very smart, in fact quite an ignorant person. Despite the many travelers they welcomed to their village, she was either not aware, or oblivious to the stigma on grey furs in most parts of the Luri region, and thought that ignoring to address the issue to the rest of the village would either make it go away or solve itself. (defeated) I don’t know.
Anyway, as a result, her daughter was often teased by the other children of both the village and the traveling merchants and (uncomfortable) often came home crying.

Malaki:(weak laugh) You aren’t even a Skurki, yet you got treated as one. Other Rontar must be cruel.

Raka:(sighs) Indeed…

Lyn:But wait, isn’t that exactly what Darïa wanted to do with Malaki?

Raka:Well, Darïa didn’t recognize Malaki as Skur at first, she did know of the reputation of his Rontar. But what she wanted to do was make an offspring that might possibly inherit a Skurki’s hardiness against the cold climate. She even said it might be time that the Rontar of the Skundr disposed of their discord and unite, to withstand the Skundr’s harsh climate. Why not let her do the first step? – her words, not mine.

Oþan:Sounds like a smart little mortal.

Malaki:No… She’s stupid… Skurka will never join with the Kyrjir-

Outside, the Koshoryce bellows and stomps its hoof, then tries to dash into the wall again.

Oþan:(exasperated) Will that thing just give it up already?!

Laika:Oh fourteen… That beast won’t let up so easily, will it?

Oþan:Most likely not. We could be here all night.

Lyn:All night?! Urg… Hey, how about I start cooking? I’m getting really hungry…

Raka:(sighs) Sure, I don’t think there’s much else we can do.

Lyn stands up and walks off to the stove. She pulls a few items (bag of porridge, dried fruits, spices) from Raka’s backpack.

Oþan:You could continue your story.

Raka:Ah… Of course… Where was I… Ah- well, needless to say that the mistress soon became fed up with her daughter’s inability to deal with the mockery on her own. After all, she went through all the trouble to get a strong heir, why then was her child not strong? So she decided to toughen her up. On a mild night in Fælyon, when the moon Deneo was at his brightest, she took her daughter out to hunt.

Lyn:Wait, how old was her daughter at the time?

Raka:Around 7 or 8, I think.

Lyn:Okay…

Raka:Well, she was old enough to hunt, her mother had taken her out on a hunt before. But usually during day time. Together they tracked wild prey in the forest. Vuroraka was a bit nervous, as her mother has not bothered to take her out to hunt very often, especially not at night. They tried tracking prey for a while, but they found nothing. And eventually, when they reached a clearing, her mother told Vuroraka to wait, while she would drive prey out of hiding and toward the clearing so her daughter could catch them. So, Vuroraka sat and waited patiently. What else was there to do? She waited and waited, until both the moons were just hovering over the horizon, and then she waited just a bit longer until the moons were just about ready to return to the ocean. Then she started to worry and wondered if something had happened to her mother.

Laika:(gasps) Oh no…

Raka:She considered tracking her, following her trail. But her mother was a very good hunter and left barely any tracks, and Vuroraka’s senses were not yet trained enough for scent tracking, and the faint smell of her mother’s presence had faded when the moons were still overhead.

Malaki:(rattling, weak laugh)

Raka:What’s so funny about that?

Malaki:I don’t understand that you Kyrjir can survive to an age old enough to earn your Ki… or… Ku, without learning to hunt…

Raka:The benefits of living in a social community…

Laika wrings out another cloth from the pot.

Laika:Are you… done with your friends injuries?

Raka:His arms and torso are clean… I don’t really want to touch his broken leg, but we might have to try and peel off his pants.

Lyn:Not “It”. Nope. Definitely not interested in seeing that.

Raka:Just focus on your cooking pot. I’ll take care of Malaki.

Lyn:Okay…

Laika:So what did Vuroraka do then?

Raka:She continued to wait. She was cold, hungry and worried. She wasn’t sure she could find her way back, because she was foolish and hadn’t paid enough attention to their path. Yet she thought, she could probably try to track her way back, if she tried hard enough, get her aunt or one of her mother’s housekeepers to help searching. So she looked around, which direction looked most familiar to her. That’s when… she started hearing sounds. Uncanny noises, sounds of living beings, yet… not like anything she’s ever heard before. Strange, deep and rumbling wails. But not in the distance, no no. She heard them, as if whatever made these noises was right next to her, as if she was amidst an unseen crowd of creatures. Yet there was nothing around her, nothing she could see. In a panic, she ran, trying to get away from the sounds.

Laika:Oh fourteen, that sounds horrifying!

The Koshoryce wails, as if on cue.

Lyn:Well, so does that.

Othan:Just ignore it.

Raka:Vuroraka ran and ran, but the sounds wouldn’t go away. Where ever she ran to, there were always creatures making these strange noises, and she could not see any of them. She tried to cover her ears, yet the sounds didn’t go away. At some point she stopped and realized that she had run off without thinking, without knowing where she was going. She had ignored her surroundings, the path. Where she was merely disoriented before, she was now completely lost. Terrified, she curled up in a hollow tree, hoping for morning to come so she could find her way back home.

Laika:Poor girl…

Raka:A long time later, the dawn was breaking but the sun had not yet risen, she was found… but not by her mother, as she had hoped, but by Varna, her aunt.

Lyn:Varna? Didn’t you say that name before?

Raka:Vuroraka was so relieved to see her aunt. She clung to her and cried, and… told her that she was worried something might have happened to her mother. Varna hugged her tight, and… and took a deep breath, then told her… that her mother had returned to the house, late the night before. The fact that she left with her daughter but returned without her seemed strange, and Varna asked where she had left her. And Vuroraka’s mother answered: “My daughter is a wuss. Why would I take her with me on a hunt with me? She would only be in my way.”

Lyn:What?!

Laika:Oh no…

Lyn:That’s so mean!

Laika:Did she forget? Or did she… want to teach her daughter a lesson?

Raka:(sighs) Varna asked her the same question. But no matter how she phrased her questions, the mother had no recollection of bringing Vuroraka on a hunt. It seemed that she had simply forgotten.

Lyn:Was it a spirit that made her forget? Like þorianþaris did?

Raka:(sighs) I’ll get there. Varna asked Vuroraka why she was hiding in a hollow tree, and why she hadn’t come home on her own. And since Varna was someone Vuroraka has always been able to confide in, Vuroraka started telling her of the strange sounds she heard. At first her aunt was shocked. But then… she told her, that what she heard were beings of the natural world, beings that keep air clean, waters flowing and plants growing.

Laika:(whispering) Vær…

Raka:Vuroraka couldn’t believe her aunt. She thought Varna was telling her some kind of Folklore. What she heard was terrifying and gruesome, the sounds of beasts, of monsters. She couldn’t imagine that the kindhearted nature spirits as her aunt had described would make such ominous sounds.

Laika:(reverent) Indeed, Vær are the kindest creatures the fourteen have created. They would never sound so horrifying.

Malaki:(scoffs, then derogatory) Kind Vær…

Raka:So Varna asked her niece if she would like to see these beings for herself. Perhaps Vuroraka only perceived what she heard as scary because she could not see it, could not make sense of it. And Vuroraka eagerly agreed.

Laika:That is true… The unknown can spawn the most horrifying terrors in one’s mind.

Malaki:(thoughtful) The unknown…

Raka:Indeed… And so Varna drew runes on her niece’s eyes, runes that would reveal the creatures that had surrounded her the whole night.

Lyn:Were the runes like the ones Malaki has?

Raka:Yes, but not… not so permanent. Drawn on with mud, or paint I think. I can’t remember. But as the runes were drawn, the world of the Vær unfolded before Vuroraka’s eyes. And what she saw were… creatures that very much resembled Fara’Fyrderin. It was their sounds she had heard all night.

Lyn:Ah, Bunnies! Farakojassis!

Malaki:(groaning) Ai…kojassi…

(pauses)

Raka:Her aunt explained that these creatures are very receptive to the moods of mortals. They must’ve sensed my- Vuroraka’s fear, and tried to comfort her. That is why she was not able to escape the sounds. But the noises she heard were… distorted, bent, after all it was her first time hearing them. So Varna drew more runes on her face, runes that allowed her to hear the noises as they should be heard. And their sounds became… much clearer, more like bird chirps, like cooing, cheerful, comforting. In wonder, Vuroraka asked her aunt about these creatures. Varna explained that they were spirits, beings that kept the aetherweb clean and unclogged by devouring qualities that exist in excess, maintaining their balance. Vuroraka didn’t understand that, and asked what kind of things the spirits fed on. And Varna explained that they devoured everything. Rain, dew, sparks, thunder, light, stones, wood, energy. Even thoughts and emotions. And this roused Vuroraka’s curiosity. For, you see, this was not the first time her mother had forgotten something.

Lyn:Oooh.

Raka:Before this incident, Vuroraka still had faith that her mother would never forget about her, no matter how many other things she would forget. But what had happened that night proved the opposite. Was it the work of spirits that caused her mother to forget?

Malaki:(weak laugh) Pesky Vær. Of course.

Oþan:Don’t go around badmouthing our kin, shabby little runemaster.

Lyn:He can’t hear you.

Oþan:(laughs) All the better. Oh the things I could tell him about his brother…

Raka:Varna had to disappoint her niece. She explained that the conscious mind is like a tool that needed to be kept clean, a muscle that needed to be kept flexible, a knife that needed to be kept sharp. In this case, Malaki… it’s the claws often used that stay sharp. If you don’t keep it occupied, it loses its edge, its capacity, and just deteriorates. The loss of her mothers memories were due to her ignorance, not because of spirits. And it was not likely to get better, after she already forgotten her daughter once.

Laika:That’s… scary. Having your own family forget about you… I hope my family will not forget about me.

Oþan:They shouldn’t even dream of it. I’ll unleash the whole force of all the earthquakes and landslides and floods I’ve ever held back since you became my Mortal if they do.

Laika:(laughs) You don’t need to do that, Oþan.

Malaki:(weakly, groaning) Your fear of forgetting… I would not want Azeri to forget me…

Lyn:So… did you talk to your mother about what happened later?

Raka:(scoffs) My mother?

Lyn:Yea?

Raka:We’re talking about Vuroraka, not me, remember?

Lyn:Oh yea, yea. Okay. Has VURORAKA asked her mother later?

Raka:She did, once she was back home. But her mother dismissed her concerns, and took no measure to put her daughter’s mind at ease, either. Over the months that followed, she forgot more things, gradually. She even forgot why her daughter was having issues with her grey fur, and the mockery went on. Vuroraka tried to distract herself by spending a lot of time with her aunt, eager to immerse herself in another, simpler world. She learned about runes and spirits, earner her first äthwar, learned to read, saved up all her money to buy any book she could get her hands on that referenced spirits. For, you see, she secretly never gave up hope that maybe, just maybe, her mother’s memory was indeed affected by a spirit, and her aunt simply didn’t know about.

Laika:That’s so sad…

Raka:However… she only had one äthwar at the time, and didn’t know the first thing about balancing the runes. With the runes her aunt painted on her face every day, she cast runes just to watch their effect unfolded on the weave and the real world. In her zeal, she became bolder in the use of her runes. She shamelessly overused them, trying to find and master all the patterns she could create, without ever crafting a single counterbalance.

Oþan:Ridiculous! What a reckless child!

Raka:Indeed. On one day, she went out to play with her water runes near a creek. And while she wove a complicated pattern with her runes, recreating and combining patterns she had learned form her aunt, her construct suddenly broke, and a hole appeared at the center of her weave. Small at first, but increasing rapidly in size. Thinking she had woven something too complex, she let go of her weave. Yet despite her no longer supporting and guiding the weave’s flow, the hole continued to grow. Eventually, the water around her started to float, as the water runes lost their grasp on gravity. And as the hole began to bleed over to other elements, so, too, did stones begin to rise from the ground, and small spirits began to approach the hole, as Vuroraka had torn open her very first tangleweave.

Oþan:(schadenfreudig, laughing) Of course! That was bound to happen.

Malaki:(weak laugh) You would never give my äthwar back, if this had happened to me…

Raka:Well, you never proved that this tangleweave was NOT caused by you.

Lyn:Don’t agitate him, Raka.

Malaki:(defensive) I didn’t.

Oþan:Is that what you suspect? (laughs) Silly mortals.

Laika:(scolding) Be nice, Othan.

Raka:What else am I supposed to suspect, when I find a guy throwing wind runes at a wind spirit to defeat it?

Oþan:(laughs) You mortals are a hilarious bunch. A tangleweave of this size could hardly have come from one alone, not even a zealous one.

Laika:(scolding) That’s enough, Othan.

Raka:You mean to say there might be several people that have caused the tangleweave?

Oþan:Well, certainly there’s not a single mortal that is to blame for this. (laughs)

Laika:(sigh) I’m sorry. Othan has strong opinions about mortals.

Raka:So I’ve noticed… A common trait among Væron, as I’ve experienced.

Oþan:Don’t put me in the same box as Ferryce, that arrogant stone lover!

Laika:Please. Go on with your story.

Raka:(sighs) Well, before the hole had appeared, the things Vuroraka saw, the weave, the runes, the knots, the flow, the spirits, were all visibly present in abundance. She saw both, the natural world and the world of the aetherweb, existing together. Interwoven, interlocked, Intertwined. What she saw as she gazed into the tangleweave however… was… a bottomless pit. A dark abyss without end.

Laika:(sharp intake of breath, as she had experienced something similar before)

Raka:Hollow, endless nothingness. Void. Distilled emptiness. It was… the most horrifying thing Vuroraka has seen in her life. In her terror, she rubbed off the runes on her face, and swore she would never glimpse at the aetherweb again.

Lyn:Well now I’m terrified. Will I see that sort of thing too?… When we… see the Tangleweave?

Oþan:We’re right in the middle of the tangleweave, silly mortal. You would be seeing it right now, and would’ve seen it since you entered the aetherfrays.

Raka:You’re right… you should be seeing it. (frowning) Why are you not seeing it?

Lyn:(shrugs) Dunno. You’re the spirit-smart one.

Laika:(trying to distract) Her mind could be protecting her from seeing it.

Raka:Maybe…

Malaki:(weak, groaning) The cliff. It reminded you… of the abyss. The tangleweave.

(pause)

Raka:(remorseful) Yes… I’m… I’m sorry that… I should’ve… I should’ve given you your äthwar back. I know you haven’t been using runes as much as you did when we first met you. I know you’ve become much more pleasant to be around. I know all of that… and yet (sighs) At the bridge, I was overwhelmed. I hadn’t expected a simple dark canyon would… trigger that memory. And when it happened again at the cliff earlier… I was stubborn this time. I didn’t want that to happen again, didn’t want to let go of your äthwar.

Lyn:You didn’t want to lose control.

Raka:(sighs) At this point… keeping hold of his äthwar was… more my desperate attempt to maintain in control than trying to minimize the damage he could’ve done with it…

(pause)

Malaki:But now I know why you do it.

Raka:(dropping her head into her hands) Please… heal up quickly. I’ll give you your äthwar back when you’re at full health again. Until then I’ll keep it… as an incentive. Alright?

Malaki:Incentive… (weak laugh) I’ll try my best.

Lyn:(sniffs, theatric winey tone) Sorry, I think I have a water-rune in my eye.

Laika:Oh sorry, is it too humid in here? Do you need something? A cloth to wipe it off perhaps?

Lyn:No, no, I’m fine. (sniffs) Heartfelt moment. So… how did you deal with your first tangleweave, Raka?

Raka:(sighs) Well… I couldn’t see it anymore when I rubbed the runes off, but… that image was burnt into my mind. I knew that whatever had just happened, it was a bad thing. I panicked and didn’t know what to do- tell my aunt? Not tell anyone? Would this issue just fix itself? I didn’t know! I didn’t know this COULD happen. Neither Varna nor any of the books I had read mentioned anything like it. So I ran. I bolted, as fast as I could, to my aunt, hoping she’d know what to do. But she didn’t. She knew how to live in peace with the Vær, how to summon and speak to them, how to use the runes to weave spells. But not how to fix a tangleweave. That is not something many people know about, as I learned at the university later.

Oþan:Of course it’s not common knowledge! If it was, you reckless mortals would lose all respect for the Aetherweb! You would continuously break and mend the weave on a daily basis, as if it was no big issue. You mortals would never appreciate the one Aetherweb you have!

Laika:(scolding) Othan!

Raka:No, she is right. At the university, we tear a hole into the weave every year to help students experience a tangleweave first hand. Many of our Patcher alumnis have lost their respect for the Aetherweb because of this.

Oþan:Such careless a buse makes me angry!

Lyn:So, what did you and your auntie do?

Raka:We didn’t know about patchers at the time, so Varna decided to… To summon a Væron to help fix it.

Malaki:(coughing) Stupid. (coughing)

Laika:Do you need water?

Malaki:Water- yes.

Laika pours him a glass of water. Raka reaches under Malaki’s shoulder to lift his torso up. He groans a little in discomfort.

Malaki:I can sit on my own!

Raka:Relax. I don’t want you to strain your leg.

Malaki:This much attention is… uncomfortable.

Lyn:Enjoy it while you can, bro.

Laika:I’m sorry, I wouldn’t want to pour it over his face. Could you-

Raka:Yes, I’ll take it.

Laika:Thanks.

Laika:Got it? (the cup)

Raka:Yes, I got it. Here.

Malaki:(gulps down the water, then coughs again) That… tasted weird.

Raka:The water?

Laika:Oh- I’m sorry, I think there was wine in the cup before…

Lyn:Uuh, yea, let’s get him drunk.

Malaki:Drunk.

Raka:Well, it’ll help with his pain, if nothing else.

Raka softly places Malaki back on his cushion.

Laika:Was the Væron able to help with the tangleweave?

Raka:(sighs) Yes, but… at a price. Apparently… the Væron we summoned was a dormant mortal-bound Væron, just like Oþan, whose mortal had passed away a few months prior. Mortal-bound Væron don’t usually stay around very long after their mortals passes away and there is no more need for their presence. This one though seemed to enjoy being a Mortal-bound Væron. They offered to fix the tangleweave for us. In exchange for… for my aunt to become their Mortal.

(pause)

Oþan:She paid for YOUR mistakes, Patcher. I hope you appreciate what she did for you.

Raka:(sighs) I’m eternally grateful to her for it. Since she became a Mortal, I learned how Væron can be, and how best to negotiate with them.

Malaki:(weak) The reason you don’t see them as threats.

Raka:Yes.

Lyn:Wait, so you fixed the tangleweave by summoning one Væron?

Raka:Yes.

Lyn:Why haven’t you done that with this tangleweave then, we’ve met at least three Væron if we include Oþan!

Raka:Because the tangleweave I caused was tiny, barely larger than a house! This tangleweave here is…

Oþan:It stretches across the entire length of the Skundr.

Outside, the Koshoryce bellows and crashes into the wall of the house. Some debris trickles from the ceiling.

Oþan:Oh for Lyura’s sake- We KNOW you’re out there, quit trying to grab our attention!

Lyn:Hey Oþan?

Oþan:Yes.

Lyn:Do you have any idea why that thing is attacking us?

Oþan:(scoffs) Who knows why madness-driven Vær do anything.

Lyn:Madness?

Oþan:(sighs, exasperated) The Tangleweave! It drives Vær mad. Some Væhar remain sensible, but most Vær just completely lose it.

Lyn:So this thing doesn’t really have a reason to be so hot on our heels other than that it’s mad?

Oþan:Precisely.

Lyn:Damn.

Raka:(sighs, uncomfortable) I… I think I better take care of that thing.

Lyn:What?! Dude, bro, are you sure?

Raka:We wasted enough of Laikas time and her Væron’s nerves.

Laika:Don’t worry about it. I like having company. Would you like to stay the night? You can stay the night, if you wish.

Lyn:Uuuh, I’d take you up on that. Can we, Raka?

Raka:(tired laugh) Sure, but not with that thing knocking on the walls all night. I… have an idea how I can take care of it. I couldn’t really do much while protecting the two of you, but… now that I know you’ll be safe here…

Malaki:(weak) Raka… I…

Raka:Hm?

(pause)

Malaki:(grave) If it… if it leaves you no other choice… Burn it.

Raka:We’ll see about that… Oþan, can I… get out of the house without ruining your barrier?

Oþan:I told you, I don’t appreciate Vær being “taken care of”!

Raka:I’ve made enough of a mess today.

Oþan:Precisely, so don’t add to it by suggesting-

Raka:Please, Oþan.

Oþan:(grumbling) P- Please?!…

Raka:Please.

Oþan:(uncomfortable) Fine. Take the back door.

Raka:Thank you.

Lyn:Good luck, man. Please don’t get yourself killed, I already almost lost Malaki today!

Raka:I’ll try.

Windshell deactivates.

INT. AURILS STUDY – NIGHT

Yosha has at some point during the recording dropped her pen and has been sniffling, after hearing Raka retell her story. Parek has comfortingly wrapped his arm around her and rubbing her shoulder.

Yosha:(sniffling, then slowly) I think… I’m alright now…

Parek:Are you sure?

Yosha:Yea… I just… (with a heavy feeling) How can Raka live like that? Her own mother forgetting her…?

Parek:That was… rough, yea.

Yosha:If my mother forgot about me like that… or my Brahara…

Parek:Or Nil…

Yosha:I’m not sure which person forgetting me would be worst, honestly…

Parek:Oh, all three of them, I’d assume.

Yosha:That would be devastating… I wonder if she ever went back to Vurokoroth since moving to Kærûn…

Parek:If not, you should try to suggest it to her.

Yosha:Perhaps… Oh Fiyar’ta, this transcript is a mess…

Yosha shuffles through her transcript papers, which she has only haphazardly paid attention to after a certain point.

Parek:Too much shorthand?

Yosha:That, too… and… I don’t know, I think I just spaced out between segments, see?

Yosha pulls out a paper and shows it to Parek.

Yosha:Here…

Parek:And… the paper it’s got a little splotchy…

Yosha:What? Oh no… Fiyar’ta…

Parek:It’s alright, don’t worry about it. I’ll help reconstruct this one-

Yosha:No, no, no, I can do it, I just… need a bit before I can listen to that again…

Parek:Are you sure? There’s enough here for me to piece it together. You know I’m pretty good at memorizing speech, right?

Yosha:I know, that’s why you barely ever take notes in class, show-off. But no worries. I’ll just… my mistake, I’ll just redo the parts I missed or… well, the splotchy bits.

Parek:Alright, sure… But… Hmm…

Yosha:What is it?

Parek:Well, some of these details Raka disclosed seemed… awfully personal. Are you sure you should keep them in there?

Yosha:It wouldn’t really be a transcript if I started redacting whole segments of it, would it?

Parek:I mean, no. You could probably keep an unedited transcript, but I think some of these things Raka disclosed were… things she doesn’t necessarily want anyone else in the university to know.

Yosha:But knowing these things is essential to understanding why she takes the actions she took-

Parek:Is it though, Sha-sha?

Yosha:Y- Yes? Reki, what’s your concern here?

Parek:What I mean is… alright, let’s say we were students aiming to become patchers, alright?

Yosha:Uh-huh.

Parek:And we listened to the windshell recordings – or read the transcripts of them – to really prepare for the work of a patcher.

Yosha:Alright, I’m with you so far.

Parek:Now we – you and I – as people, have our own bag of trouble, right?

Yosha:Yea.

Parek:No matter how much inspiration we take from these recordings, we will never make the same choices as Akasar Raka.

Yosha:That’s… probably true.

Parek:So then is it really necessary for us to know all these personal details about Raka’s life prior to moving to Kærûn to understand why she does what she does?

Yosha:Well, yea, I mean, those things are what shape the kind of person she is and the person she is affect her choices, so-

Parek:I mean, at the end of the day, what really mattered here was that Oþan offered them sanctuary in exchange for Raka telling them about Vurokoroþ. And that Raka took the chance in order to have the protection of a higher Vær, right?

Yosha:I… guess so…

Parek:Raka’s story didn’t affect her choice to take Othan’s offer, nor did it affect directly how she got into that situation. For us, as people trying to learn more about dealing with spirits, it didn’t really matter at all, did it?

Yosha:I… um… I suppose not… Oh Fiyar’ta… perhaps Akasar Auril was right…

Parek:Hm? About what?

Yosha:Well… he’s wanted to redact entire windshell recordings from the documentation of a patchers work… And… on the day before he vanished we… got into a bit of a heated argument, actually.

Parek:Are you serious?

Yosha:Uh… Yea…

Parek:Fiyar’ta…

Yosha:It was pretty bad… But he suggested we keep track of them for Raka to revise once she returns.

Parek:That sounds sensible, if nothing else.

Yosha:I was… upset because… well the reason he wanted to hold them back wasn’t because he thought Raka’s privacy was going to be impeded upon, but because they put the development of the windshell at risk.

Parek:You’re… gona have to catch me up on that later. But honestly at this point I’m just hungry.

Yosha:Oh Fiyar’ta- I’m sorry it’s dark out already! We should go get something to eat.

Parek:I’d much appreciate that. Nil should be home by now as well.

Yosha:You’re right. Let me just finish up the references and then we can head out.

Parek:Sure. Just let me know if I can help you with that.

Yosha:No bother, I’m on it… Where is it…

Yosha:Right, here we go.
Date of recording was the same as the previous one. Vocal enchantments were woven by Kessir Riliniki, Carollyn Monterola, Eyþór Viðarsson, Ester Ellis, Tanja Milojevic, Jordyn Parker, Neil Martin and Hem Brewster. Music-shells were provided by Fuimadane. Audio-Enhancements were by Sarah Buchynski. Written and Produced by Kessir Riliniki.

Parek:All done?

Yosha:Yup!

Yosha:I’m hungry, let’s go.

Parek:Alright.

Windshell activates.

Parek:(with a sense of urgency) Wait, wait wait!

Yosha:What is it?

Parek:There’s another one!

Yosha:Fiyar’ta- I knew this couldn’t have been the end!

Laika:(eating) Mhh. I haven’t had porridge with fruits in a long time. This is really good.

Lyn:Right? Oh, finally someone who appreciates my cooking skills! Thank you!

Malaki:And I’m still alive as well…

Lyn:Malaki, say Aaaah!

Malaki:(defensive) No, no! No! I’ve had enough- (gets his mouth stuffed with a spoon)

Laika:(laughs) Don’t fight it. It’s good!

Lyn:You want to heal up quickly, don’t you?

Malaki:(mumbles with a mouth full of porridge) How am I supposed to heal with your cooking skills…

SFX (offmic): Backdoor opening and closing.

The door opens and Raka comes in, weary and bent.

Lyn:Woa, Raka! You’re alive!

Raka:Here you go.

She shakes out the fur-cloak and spreads it over Malaki.

Malaki:(baffled) My fur!

Laika:You did it!

Raka sits down heavily on the floor and rubs her face with a groaning sigh.

Raka:(head burried in her palms) Oh Fiyar’ta forgive me…

Lyn:What did you do that needs forgiving?

Raka:I banished it.

Laika:(baffled) Banished?

Lyn:You would banish a Vær?

Raka:I’m not proud of it, either.

Lyn:Well, it was mad…

Oþan:I don’t think there was much else she could’ve done if she didn’t want to burn that cloak.

Raka:I’m sorry. It’s… a little bit tattered… I shook out most of the debris outside, but there might still be some foliage stuck to it…

Lyn:I’ll brush that out later.

Raka:And then there’s the hole I shot into it…

Malaki:(sly grin) Battlescars. I’ll carry them with pride and say I obtained these in a fight with you.

(pause)

Raka:(puzzled) Well you seem to be back to your normal self.

Oþan:I patched him up a bit, so you three don’t end up getting STUCK here! I don’t want to endure your presence longer than necessary!

(pause)

Laika:(amused) I think what she meant to say was: It’s a reward. For your equally rewarding story.

Oþan:Don’t tell them everything!

Ferryce:(chuckles) Now you know what it feels like when your secrets are revealed to mortals.

Oþan:Shut up, Ferryce.

Laika:She didn’t entirely heal him, but she made sure he doesn’t suffer any long-lasting effects.

Oþan:Just so you know, that leg was not the only thing broken. He was also severely damaged on his hip and spine. I only healed his bones, not his muscles.

Laika:He’s likely to be aching for a few days before he’s back to normal. But he’ll be okay. Don’t worry.

Raka:Th-thank you, Oþan.

Oþan:After what you did to that Vær, I don’t think you deserve it!

Raka:You knew what I was going to do to it when you let me out. And yet you patched him up anyway.

Oþan:(uncomfortable) Just shut up and go… eat something. Or what ever it is you mortals do.

Malaki:(grateful) Thank you. Raka.

(pause)

Raka:(weak smile) Just do me one favor when you wear it… Don’t tell me again that I don’t care.

After a short pause, the Windshell deactivates.

Yosha:We could just close the door and pretend we didn’t hear anything?

Parek:(whispering) Yea.

Yosha:(whispering) Okay.