offerings. [elijah, hdub ST]

Kiara
[Dex + Ath, just cuz we're exploring and stuff]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8) ( success x 1 )

KiaraThe early afternoon sunlight couldn't quite penetrate once they were inside the cave.

It smelled rich inside; pungent with the scent of wet air; earth; the lingering presence of wildlife that had or did use it as a refuge to the changing seasons. Kiara's torchlight cut across great, smooth, shaped rocks as they crunched over old, decaying weeds and overgrowth; it bracketed the easily missed entrance to the echoing, empty space.

"See," she breathes out, brushing aside damp strands of dark hair and leaning in to nudge her companion's shoulder with a brief, sharp little smile. "Told you there was one around here somewhere. According to what I read, these caves are ancient." Her torchlight cut a soft beam of light across dust speckled air; water dripped somewhere inside and a worn pathway had been etched between the boulders; the occasional attempt at graffiti faded against the red rocks. It had been a casual inclination, to go hiking, to search out the old, overgrown cave formations around Red Rocks.

Kiara's invitation extending only a 'feeling ambitious?' via text before she'd deigned to explain her reasoning for the drive; a pair of sunglasses perched on her head and that brilliant, engaging smile ever-present as her fingers drummed against the wheel; the city limits falling behind them as the wilderness reclaimed the roadside either side of her tiny red hatchback.

The Verbena's tennis shoes kicked up tiny whirls of dust as she started into the depths; calling back over a shoulder as she did, "I wonder how far down it goes?" Her voice echoing into the reaches as she held her torch a little higher and began a slow ascension over the moss-covered side of two large rocks; pressed close enough to make for careful supports to a knowledgeable climber.

"Beautiful."

The brunette's quiet declaration as she rested for a beat; tying a sweater around her waist.

silence.[E: don't all on your face- dex+athletics]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )

silence.Kiara was right, the caves were ancient. Are ancient.

There was that smell of air, that smell of something wet and clean and cool- caves weren't touched by the heat of the day or the frigid temperatures of winter. No, they were fairly predictable. Whatever lived there was accustomed to a certain lifestyle, something that was not dependent upon light. Something that was not dependent upon anything other than what crawled into one of the earth's great maws. Caves were special like that.

It was quiet outside. Some birds chirped, some crickets hummed and, occasionally, the wind deigned to rustle the leaves of a nearby tree.

Elijah liked hiking, all things said. He enjoyed being outside and in nature and actually breathing in the world around him. The response to the invitation had been quick enough, don't I always? Because he was young. Because he was starry-eyed. Because he was a number of things, and who was to say that a young man in his early twenties was anything other than ambitious? His footing wasn't steady, though the paths were worn. He had a sixth sense about him to find unsteady rocks or loose gravel. he was going to get dirty.

Attire was comfortable- tee shirt, shorts, backpack strapped firmly on and pocket watch tucked into the pocket on the side where his cell phone was intended to go. Where they were, he didn't need a phone. It was like not needing a road, but much more practical. int he modern age, who went anywhere without a cell phone? Kiara wondered how far down it went-

"Wanna find out?" the blond replied with a grin, eyes all bright and springtime green, amber in places where the rocks picked up the color.

The cave was not foreboding, not in a way that a cave was not normally for boding, a deep chasm into the belly of the earth, a place where the rocks could nestle around and be protective, be comforting. A place where the ground might drop out and one could plummet, fall, fall down deep until they hit some oubliette where one was not meant to return. Where one was to be food for some fungus or eyeless fish or some other wounded predator catching an easy break on a lost meal.

Kiara"I thought you'd never ask." She offered a hand out to Elijah, to support his weight and help the other Awakened clamber up beside her on the top-most point of the two enormous boulders.

The rocks tapered out slightly on the other side; the hue of them a darker, bolder red where the elements hadn't been able to re-shape or dull them; the sun couldn't fade the colors inside the depths of the earth and as Kiara set her torch between her teeth momentarily, to begin a careful step-skid down the opposing side of the rocks; the light wobbled across the rock-face; setting off a thousand tiny pinpricks of light; grains of sand that had been present there for who knew how long.

The Verbena seems capable enough out here, there's a brightness to her eyes mirrored in Elijah's; a certain glow to her skin, as if being in the vestiges of nature made Kiara Woolfe all the more so herself, her dark hair flowing loose and untethered over her shoulders where she'd neglected to tie it back. She folds it over a shoulder as she slides down and lands lightly at the base of the rocks; crouching momentarily to set a palm against the smooth surface of the rock.

There's a fine layer of damp; the residue of the earth. Her torchlight finding tiny bones at edge of a crevice; a natural fold in the descending face where beyond; the trickle of water suggests there's a spring winding through the formation. The bones partially eroded; some crushed as if between a predator's teeth. The brunette studies them for a beat; her breathing soft and steady.

"Looks like a hare. Or a fox."

She re-directs the focus of her light toward a yawning gap down further.

[Just a little Life 1, let's see what's out there, shall we? Coincidental, -1 Practiced]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (1, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Kiara[Maybe once more?]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (2, 3, 5) ( success x 1 )

silence.And it was, you see, a hare. What had once been a hare, some thing that was born to be lean and swift. Something with strong legs and a fast heart rate. Something that was born to run, with a sensitive back. Something that could kick and kill itself if it was in a panic. Rabbits could be crafty, resourceful, fast, but they are fragile creatures in their own rights.

Down further, there is life. Down further, into the mouth of the cave there are tiny winged heartbeats. There are larger predators, yes, but they are sleeping somewhere. No bears in this cave but… something. Something human, yes, but something larger. Something that did not seem like the average pattern one would feel in an area like this. A heartbeat and breath that comes out and there is no sound. Kiara only knows it because she feels a Presence.

KiaraThere's a pause there. A pause while Kiara's focus seems to pull itself inward and then - push outward. The sensation of her Working; of the flood of rejuvenating energy that washes over them, the pulse of it a steady timekeeper to the sensation. Her breathing growing quieter, less audible and then, she pushes herself upright.

"There's someone else here."

Not quite hushed, or uncertain but - curious. The Verbena's eyes seem to gleam with it as she starts toward the wider opening to the deeper recesses of the cave formation; past the tiny bones and the trickling water; Kiara steps over them easily and instead focuses her attention down further, into the shadowy depths where she can feel the size and shape of tiny wings; a dozen heartbeats and patterns and there - something else.

Something bigger.

The awareness of something other draws the pagan in.

"Is someone down there?" Human reflex, perhaps. To call out, to hear her voice echoing down into the cavernous darkness.

silence.Is someone down there? she asks.

There is a echo, or at least there should be. When Kiara calls out, all she hears is the sound of her voice hitting a wall. There should be an echo. There should be the sound of her voice bouncing off the walls of the cavern but instead there is nothing. Like she's talking to a wall. Like she's talking into curtains, because the sound just… stops. Disappears. Refracted in a way that it should only be bounced back in an unnatural environment.

---

Elijah takes a step forward, watches Kiara as she pushes herself upright. She says that there is someone here and his reaction is to stop, to slow, to calm himself and wait to see if something responds to Kiara's call but nothing does. No call back, no tweet, no chirp, nothing but the sounds of the area around them instead of what should be in front of them. His mouth presses into a fine line and he takes a second, steps away from his friend and picks up a rock. Something small and fit in the palm of his hands.

And, with a thoughtful expression, he pitches the rock into the cave. Waits to hear it bounce and ricochet around along the rocks.

Nothing.

"… oh, that's not normal."

KiaraShe'd told him when they first set foot inside the cave. That it was ancient, that nature had been at its liberty, at least here to do as it wished. She calls out and the echo is snapped off; her voice loud and close and - abruptly, stiflingly - close.

The Verbena lets out a breath and then, with a brief, contained little look at her companion when he throws a small rock as if to test the boundaries of the cave's recesses, the edge of a smile there at the corner of her mouth. The pagan's focus bleeds beyond, though. Kiara's fingers curling around her torch as if it were the conduit.

She whispers something, lifts her chin and looks. Not simply into the darkness but - through it. Into it. Casting her awareness across the thin membrane that separated their side from the beyond.

[Spirit Sight, how's it looking on the other side? Coincidental, base diff 4, maybe extending? -1 practiced rote]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (4, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

silence.She presses forward to the world between the worlds and there is nothing. There are spirits, yes. There are little creatures that personify light and the stone and the cave itself which is just as ancient as she had heard. It is strong and it is comfortable in what it is, and there are little bugs and the grass and leaves rustle but things just stop at the mouth of the cave.

At the mouth there is a salt line. Something that glows with brightness. There is a line of ash behind that. There are crystals and light and glowing blue goodness behind the line, there were signs on the walls, pictures and spirals and constellations that spoke, that whispered bring to us your offerings.

There was a path, marked in light down the mouth of the cave. Something curious housed within an ancient gathering space.

Kiara"Oh."

It's a quiet exclamation from the brunette after a moment, the faintest of caught breaths before she releases it, relinquishes her grip around the torch and turns to look across at Elijah, the edge of her mouth curving into a stronger smile. "There's a barrier at the mouth of the cave. Something to keep things out." A beat, Kiara's expression turns thoughtful.

"Or something in."

She starts toward it, the Verbena. Following the lighted path closer to the salted line; the glow of it pulling her nearer like a beacon. Stops with her toes just before it and turns, looking back at Elijah. "Can you see it?" She drops to a crouch, the Dreamweaver. Holds a hand out just so and lets it hover there, above the threshold, looking down at the coruscating blue-white glow.

"I think - we need to give something." Kiara's eyes still on the point below her, she sets the flashlight down and shrugs off her backpack. "Like an offering or a gesture of good faith. I don't have any of my things with me, but - " She searches around on the ground and recovers a small stone (was it the one Elijah had thrown, earlier?) and brings the sharpest edge of it against her palm.

"This might be enough."

silence.[E: I dunno, can I see it?. Spirit Sight! Diff 4 +3 (because foci are for wimps), -1 (because I do this all the time)]

Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (5, 10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

silence.She asks if he can see it. and he approaches- perhaps more cavalier than he needs to be. He inhales slow and deep and it is will alone that makes this possible. Will alone that keeps his focus where it is and he inhales slow and deep and stops right where he needs to. Stops when the world loses definition, changes channels, becomes more or what it was meant to be instead of just a world outside of metaphor. A thing where the world has strict definition.

bring us your offering, it says.
"I wish I'd known what was in there," he replies. Elijah starts to take his backpack off and leaves it at the door.

Because this is a doorway, now. He digs through his bag to find his pocket knife. He'd seen Ian carrying one and he had since concluded that this was a worthwhile tool. His eyes scanned the area for another rock. It wasn't hard to find rocks, but finding something that he could carve Intent into. He plopped himself down, focused on whatever was in front of him. Sigils and signs and beauties that were most assuredly not in a human in origin.

"I might have something to ante up along with," he told Kiara, "it's like a shrine here... Bring us your offerings. Royal we or more than one being there?"


KiaraThe edge of the stone is sharp enough to puncture her skin with deliberate pressure applied and as Elijah's magic twines with hers; as she feels the tumultuous purpose and direction of it infuse the air, Kiara lets blood run down the edge of her hand, holds it out over that line of salt and lets the droplets drip down onto it. It's the oldest and most potent sort of summoning, for the earth witch.

That of her blood, the very essence of her lifeforce, freely given back to the earth, fed to appease whatever spirits might exist here, might keep their secrets housed beyond the easy reach of most mortals.

More than one being there?

"I'm not sure," Kiara breathes after a moment, her eyes on the slow progress of blood as it hits the earth. She looks beyond the doorway; at the glowing patterns etched to the walls. "Let's find out." She takes a sharp breath in, the brunette. Cradles her hand and pushes at the boundaries between their worlds; thrusting her perceptions; her presence over and through the Gauntlet. Like a drop of ink into water; a ricochet and sudden, alien presence.

We bring you offerings.

[Call Spirit, maybe? Base Diff 5, -1 Practiced]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (1, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

Kiara[Maybe one more, I think.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (5, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

silenceThis was the first indication of sound, the world opens, cracks, and the barrier of silence is shredded and suddenly there are all the ambient noises of the area. The babbling of the water inside of the cave, the echo hat comes from the subtle drip of water and the rustle of leaves. The quiet, ethereal hum that resonates from the glowing etchings on the walls.

Birds, bugs, bees- anything, everything that was dampened suddenly came to life in a subtle roar before dying back down.

What came next was the sound of breathing. The rumble of footsteps of some creature too large to truly fathom. Something that ached in the roots of trees and came from the depths of the cave. It was like something as old as the earth awakened, crawled forth from the depths of the cave but stopped.There is a pause, a shudder in the air and the feeling of frigid breath yawning from the mouth.

All that is visible from the depths of the cave are eyes. Something the size of dinner plates, then saucers, then no larger than a cat. The darkness is nearly intangible, the shadows around them seem more solid. They have an audience; the shadows chitter (shadows are creatures with poor intentions, neutral at best, their aid comes with a pride. This creature is no shadow.) What walks out of the cave is tall and willow thin with long limbs and skin like marble flecked with mica. Its eyes are milkglass and form neither masculine nor feminine. Merely delicate lines wrapped in unforgiving stone. Its hair is long a gossamer strands of silver and pearl.

"The keeper of secrets welcomes you," the figure says, smooth as any diplomat, "and wishes to know your intention upon bringing its visage so close to the light."

Kiara WoolfeThe creature that walks out of the cave is not human. It has attributes that suggest it could have been, perhaps, once, something close to it but other than the vaguely humanoid limbs and the hair that falls around it in silvery strands - it is wholly and wonderfully alien. The Verbanae for her part lets out a slow breath as the world seems to rush back to greet them.

Audible cues that gave back to them the reality of where they were. In a cave, sitting with their blood freely offered to the earth. There's a cramp forming in one of Kiara's thighs where she'd settled back on it but she doesn't shift her weight, barely moves a fraction at all as the creature heeds to her call, a greeting called without direction or ambition across the Gauntlet, like blind, imprecise fingers scrabbling in the dark for something to hold to.

The keeper of secrets, it greets them with and Elijah can feel the slight shift then, in Kiara's weight; the brush of her arm against his. "We're merely travelers from the other side," she begins in a steady voice, her dark eyes set on the depths of the cave where their guest had drawn itself forward from. "We don't mean the Keeper of Secrets any harm. We come to pay our respects and ask - " There's a beat, Kiara seems to consider her words carefully, speaking slowly.

"How did you come to be here? In this place?"

silence"It is what others ask that brings them harm, we are but vessels to the ambitions of the impermanent ones," the being says. Its voice sounds like water in crystal glasses. Tap, resonate, echo and fade.

It stands perfectly still but the wind plays on its hair, something that dances like dandelion seeds in the air. Its eyes, seemingly sightless, are directed towards the two mortals on the other side of the barrier. It does not clim through the way, though it seems... as though it stays between two worlds. As though it can, and does, exist in both but its truest form stands before them at the mouth of the cave.

Never crosses the boundary.

"We have always been, born of a nuance that shadows lack," which is met with a hiss from the gathered darkness. The being before them straightens, the temperature of the air plummets, enough that for a second Kiara and Elijah both can see their breath on the air.

The shadows stop their complaint. The air warms.

"We are but one of many, for secrets are universal. I am but snow and promises, a speaker for that which remains Unnamed."

---

Elijah stands where he is, takes in what is going on around him and can't... can't seem to look away. Can't bring himself to look away, fascinated with the cold and the beauty of the creature before them and... this is beyond words, beyond simple concepts and moves into abstraction.

What would create a being like this?

Secrets, of course. Truth, of course.

"What is the most appropriate way for us to pay our respects to the Keeper of Secrets?"

--

"By never needing our services," the being says again, "by giving us your confidence with no strings. No pretense. No asking... the impermanent are often so desperate for aid they do not understand their questions."

Not derisive. Not cruel. Just... puzzled.

Kiara WoolfeKiara remains kneeling on the ground near the doorway between their worlds. Her cut has long since stopped dripping blood and she rubs at the point of the injury with a near-absent repetition; lingering in the stinging reminder as the Keeper of Secrets speaks in its strange, otherworldly voice. Her eyes do tick down to the littering of salt and dust, the line of it left scattered on the earth before they return to scour the being's face.

There's a moment where spiritual politics, the strength of the one that speaks to them is tested and Kiara's breath mists as she breathes out sharply; her skin prickling in response to the sudden drop in temperature in the cave before it warms again.

-

Elijah asks how to pay their respects and Kiara sits back a little as he does; slides her palms over her knees and rests there a moment. Her mouth parting as if she meant to speak and then - "Secrets." She says, casting a look over a shoulder to the Initiate, the edge of her mouth curving.

"I think - it sustains itself on knowledge. I mean, of course it does. Something so old, what lasts longer than the truth. Especially hidden truths." Kiara's voice softens. She looks back and carefully climbs to her feet, brushing the dirt from her jeans.

"I want to learn more about whose that are Unnamed. I want to give you my secrets."

silence"And you give them freely, for ours and only? That which resides in your mind and your heart, if stolen away shall be rent in compensation," the being says. A contract, yes- one that seemed non negotiable. When the secret is told it is no longer Kiara's or Elijah's, to tell is to another would be stealing from the spirits.

They felt the subtle flex of displeasure towards the shadows, creatures known for their secrecy, their ill-intent. Spirits are as they seem, and though the creature before them keeps secrets- lives on their truth- and seems intent on keeping its meals. It needs humans, needs their shame and needs their secrecy and needs their desire to seem as things they are not because without it what would the creature survive on?

What secrets did it keep at the dawn of time? When the world was Becoming? What echoes did it devour?

It regards them both, milky eyes seeming to bore into them. The air brings its own stillness. The earth holds its breath, waiting for the answer.

Kiara WoolfeThere's a hesitation, then.

A moment where Kiara's mouth compresses into a line and she's reaching behind her for Elijah's hand; finds his wrist and pulls him a little closer, half turning to meet his eyes, to search his expression for signs of what she's fairly sure are there in hers.

Excitement. Uncertainty. Wonder.

"If we give it a secret, it can't be told again." She says in an undertone, her dark eyes seem wider, bright with the exhilaration of their interactions with these creatures of another world. "I think - " She looks down to where she holds Elijah's wrist, feels the steady thrum of his pulse beneath her thumb. " - if we tell anyone, they'll consider it a theft."

She turns her eyes back to the Keeper of Secrets.

"I can't imagine it would hesitate to take what it considered owed." Kiara wets her lips. "What do you think?" There's a subtle constriction as the Verbenae tightens her hold around his wrist for a moment, as if the female were urging him to somehow restrain her, to keep her from making a contract she might live to regret - or not live, as the case seemed to potentially be.

But then, when had risk ever deterred Kiara Woolfe, competitive, confident creature that she was.

silenceHe's just standing there, astounded and pleased and he almost forgets that he isn't standing there alone. That's the thing about telling secrets, there are moments that it feels like it's just you and the person you're telling, Kiara's hand on his wrist made him blink, turn with a light in his eyes that says allt he things that people suspected about him. Dusted with wonder, fascination, but perhaps a tad reckless.

They came for an adventure, didn't they?

But, the month had taught him some trepidation. He looks at her, just as captivating as the spirit before them with its marble skin and gossamer hair. With its sightless eyes that seemed to know precisely where they were at all times. His pulse is pounding but his breathing is steady. Sound- he's actually in his element. At the edge of a place that fascinated him beyond measure. Kalen warned him about contracts, but there was knowledge to be had.

At the price of secrecy, of course. "Secrets are Truth, right? But they're also trust- when you give a secret to someone you are giving them a knife and trusting that they won't stab you with it." A second, he drops his voice and speaks quickly and maybe he's a little excited and a little nervous but-

"If we do this and it's making good on its bargain- which would make sense, I don't see why something that thrives on Truth would be deceptive in nature, right? It's why the shadows are so damn pissy- we would have the opportunity to give definition to things that have none. This could be huge in terms of knowledge," he stops, "but... do you have anything you're willing to part with for good? A secret doesn't have to be damning, it could be... I don't know, a piece of yourself that is just for you... like, how you felt when you ate Thai for the first time or... your favorite orchestral piece, so listening to it is an affirmation of what happened here."

A second, "that's the thing with secrets, when you have to choose one that you're giving without strings you suddenly realize how much of yourself you actually want to share."

A beat.

"We could see if we could get a group rate? I... uh... don't know how you are with negotiating, but I don't think this is really up for negotiation so, uh, hmn."

Kiara WoolfeSecrets are truth.

And the truth was - Kiara Woolfe had many she could offer that would appease a spirit such as the Keeper of Secrets. Moments of triumph, moments of utter despair. Moments she'd teetered on the brink of something profound, something terrifying. The exhilaration of the moment after she Awoke. The agony of the before. Flames and searing heat and smoke congesting her lungs.

First times. First loves. First heartbreaks.

So many beginnings and ends swirling inside her; inside Elijah, too. The perfect food source for a being such as this was humanity. These creatures with such a capacity for flaw; for sentiment; for misjudgement and misery. And compassion, too. How could any species that prided itself on intellect not also comprehend the imperfection of conscience. The probability for heroism and fatal weakness at the last moment.

Oh, humankind were vulnerable to say the least, but - resilient. Survivors, in their own way.

Kiara's heart is beating fast against her chest as Elijah speaks, her expression softens a little when he says a secret doesn't have to be damning, that it could be good, it could be cathartic, if chosen wisely enough. "I think I should do the giving. I think I have - " There's a tiny flex at the edge of the brunette's mouth, a supple little motion of her shoulders that might have passed for a shrug. "Something worth giving that I don't need. That nobody else ever needs to know."

Something I'm ashamed of, she doesn't add.

She squeezes his hand and then lets go, turns and takes a step closer to the shadows; to the glimmering, gleaming emissary. "Would you hear my secret?"

silenceShe takes her steps forward and Elijah takes his back. There is distance, distance that he is willing to give, distance he knows he needs to give because overhearing this secret could be disastrous, it could be damning- it could gost either of them dearly and then where would they be?

The spirit looks at Kiara, expression calm and it regards her. Slow and measured at first and it takes its steps forward, extends its hands to her as though this were some baptismal moment. As though it would lead her past the edges of the cave, and it comes forward, to the very edge of its barrier and reaches forward, would take her hands if she gave them.

In a moment, there is a smile, and in that moment there are a thousand truths alight in its heart and is being. The wind relaxes, breathes its calming and relieved breath. The Emissary smiles, and it is at its very edges almost human.

"I would hear all that is freely given."

It waits, though, to see if she takes its hands.

Kiara WoolfeShe doesn't hesitate so much as she waits. For the spirit to step forward, to offer its hands (such as they are) out to her to touch. To penetrate the invisible barrier that held it to its world and she's aware, somewhere, in the back of her mind, the brunette, that this could be a mistake. That she's about to cross a line she cannot undo. A promise made with a spirit was, after all, a pact unlike those made with a human.

Spirits did not understand the concept of mistake, or undoing that which was done with knowledge.

It extends its hands out and Elijah can see the way the Verbenae's back straightens; see the momentary tightness between her shoulder-blades; the way tension knits there and then smooths as Kiara lifts her hands and reaches toward the Emissary; lets their fingers touch and closes her eyes; clears her mind but for the memory; spun out and suspended like a gleaming, transcendent thread ready to be plucked; drawn out and consumed by the waiting entity.

"This is my memory. Freely given," she murmurs and there's the flicker of imagery; the replay of events in Kiara's mind. Another city. Another time. Towering skyscrapers. The Empire State. A younger version of the woman before it with shorter cropped hair; dressed in a uniform; her long legs tangling with those of an older man beneath a dinner table while across from them, another spoke over a meal.

Doctor Woolfe, the echoing memory offered.

The same dark features as Kiara, that same presence. Unraveled further and another scene; a bedroom; rumpled bedcovers and the younger Kiara with the sheets drawn around her chest; biting at a thumbnail and staring down at a sleeping man beside her. More scenes. Flicked through like a picture book, a playback of moments.

Her father's face, swimming among them. Contorted and angry. Words that linger, prominent to the secret she offers: disgraced me, my wife can't find out, cost me the job and there, in the midst of it all, she says quietly:

"I sabotaged my father's career. Because he was never there. Because I could."

silenceThere's a strange disconnect in that contact.

She knows that the feeling of its hands should be stone, should be something made of ice but she feels something... still cold, still cold like death in her hands, but with slender fingers and delicate wrists. Something that seems close, but not quite what she sees. Something that feels more like palid, lonely flesh.

It listens, because it knows, takes her in and does as it said. There is no judgment, there is no pleasure or pain or sorrow or anything. Just... alien curiosity, as though these experiences, the feeling of resentment and carnal desires and cruelties because in a youthful mind they were deserved (oh, that anger, it's the anger that it almost understands, memory born of all secrets told. So many secrets, so much time had passed that it feels conceptual anger but takes a moment. to truly feel it.)

There is a breath drawn in, sharp and surprised and those eyes bleed mercury tears. Unheeded, unashamed. It steps forward, and those hands- so human- part briefly from Kiara's to take her wrist. To delicately, carefully lead her to the wall where symbols and sigils glowed. It placed her hand to the wall, the one that was bleeding, wiped its tears and laid its hand over hers. The Emissary was unearthly cold, but did not leach warmth from her, merely a fact. Merely a statement.

Its thumb traced the side of hers, again saying nothing but that gesture, so small, was intent and clear. Something about that was comforting, or at least attempting to be. Stilted and unsure like some faun trying to stand and take its steps.

"... would you like to see what spirits dream into creation?"

That smile, again, almost warm. Something that was not entirely alien.

Kiara WoolfeThere's rapt fascination on the Verbenae's face as she's led toward that wall with its glowing writing etched into the stone. Her eyes, those dark, beautiful eyes, shift between the Emissary's face and the symbols carved into it; from the touch of its unearthly fingers against her skin to the stone beneath her fingertips. There's a near shiver that runs through Kiara Woolfe; a sort of anticipatory shudder.

(Later she'll realize how nearly she forgot Elijah was there with her, that he was waiting to know what had happened)

Did she want to see what spirits dreamed into creation? She roves that alien face with her eyes carefully, wholly absorbingly for a beat before she whispers, her breath catching in her throat. "Yes. Oh, yes. I want to see." There's a rush; the bolt of pure adrenaline that sends a flush to the brunette's cheeks; that has her lips parting with anticipation.

(Daughter of the earth witches, adopted child of the Wyck, they'd wandered the pathways etched into the Umbra for centuries before the Avatar Storm displaced so many, no wonder she desires the knowledge so freely, it must be tattooed into her blood)

"Show me."

silenceWhat joys did one have when they were eternal? All these creatures, impermanent ones, came and went. Left and ebbed and flowed into its reality before being dismissed and thought of as just another mark on the wall-

Except.

Except.

There were so few marks on the wall of the cave, so few in comparison to centuries of time that people have come and sought the aid of the Keeper of Secrets. So few things given freely, especially with those who exist within the limitations of time. There are steps to be made, away from the wall, away from the gaping darkened mouth of the cave, with its water rushing, with the barest hints of glowing Secrets along the walls, scattered on the ground. Some travel back almost into oblivion.

It does not take Kiara there.

So it is forward, again, towards the light and towards those gathered. It knows there is an audience,knows what offers are made. "Come, children," it says, fond, "I've such sights to show you."

Kiara WoolfeShe's smiling, when it turns to move forward, back toward the light; toward Elijah; who the brunette cants a smile at; this bright; supple thing that matches the gleam in her eyes. She extends a hand toward him and draws him back toward her side, slides a hand down his arm; links their fingers together and keeps him close as if in some unspoken apology for leaving him behind when she made her offering.

It has sights to show them and there's a way the Verbenae's attention fixes and tracks the Emissary that speaks of her fascination; of her bone keep desire to know - what was out there; beyond the reaches of the Umbra; beyond the scope and shape of things they knew of; could touch; see; consider with their limited senses.

She doesn't speak, Kiara, but she moves with the spirit's progress; follows; where it would lead them.

silenceElijah bridges the gap as soon as he seems to recognize that he is allowed to do so, slides in beside Kiara and their hands interlink. There's something decidedly innocent about the gesture, the closeness, the ever-so-slight sway that comes back-and-forth while they are led on to see what truths the Emissary may bring them.

It has sights to show them, and it parts from the two mages- children, as it had called them. In truth, even the most ancient of magi would be regarded as such. Save for those with the oldest of souls, those who come and renew their pledges and promises with each passing incarnation. The Keeper of Secrets would know them, welcome them past the gates and into the depths of shadow. Hold them as welcome guest, beloved treasures. Perhaps this is a beginning for these two, or perhaps it is merely an extension of what once was long, long before.

The Emissary says nothing on this matter; the spirit is not one of deception, would not indicate that it held its gifts as anything to be disregarded.

It takes its steps away, lets out a soft hush and raises its hands high, then outward, then pulled in to its chest where fingers reach hard against where its sternum should be. Fingers drive down, past hard exterior cracked wide open and retrieved it something glowing golden. Something that has a heartbeat, that feels like winter incarnate (I am but snow and promises) and then, it turns towards the darkness in the cave.

Its steps are tentative, its literal heart laid bare and given to some darkness that tries, and nearly succeeds, in consuming all that light, all that gossammer being as it disappeared into the very pit of where it resides. The sky darkens, the sun yawns and the stars come alive. Each glowing blue light seems to hum. The Emissary returns, still holding its very essence as though it were a newborn child or a wounded bird. Something so achingly fragile. Its face still streaked with those mercurial tears.

It returns to the two mages, lifts its heart to the sky and it hovers, stays and bursts outward in light, in an image, in an illusion (or perhaps, a portal? So far, so far away) of a world that is dark.

"There was a time when your kind walked between the worlds... Petitioned Eshtarra or streaked across solar winds to the pockets you created on your own. You built empires on the sand, and your towers fell," not cruel, but there are the hints of disappointment, of sadness that it does not fully understand, "and spent so much of yourselves in those shards that you did not appreciate the spaces between..."

The whole time there was nothing to be seen there, only the barest hints and flickers of stars but Something swam across the view. Something with thousands of legs and dozens of wings. Something whose only sensical visage was a deep, yawning mouth and a single hopeful light. And that light was Hope, not a light at all but a feeling. A symbol, Hope dangled before a beast beyond comprehension that only the hopeless would reach for. A trap, indeed, but for what?

The image is discarded as they pass by a star burning cold, so very cold. The Emissary stops here, its expression fond as it reaches out, almost as if to caress the giant lurking there. Its ice, it's all ice but burned and buried beneath that frozen star there is something like potential. But not potential. Not potential but something more than just something aching to become kinetic because it is at once all it could be and less of what it was. "It has been said that which resides in the deep is beyond human comprehension... and your kind are afraid-" something reaches out, not the Emissary's hand but something quick and terrible. Something that slices through like a heated blade and a blanket, wraps around the star. Its planets go hurdling out of control. Without much warning, there is a sound that resonates not in their ears but across their skin, a vibration that rumbles like an earthquake but stops.

Where the star had been shines bright and brilliant, that sound continues and whatever enveloped the star falls apart, turns to dust and tiny asteroids.

"The impermanent are funny things, believing that the world exists but for them, that things beyond their understanding would harm them... as though they mattered so much," punctuated with that almost warm smile. The Emissary lingers on that star, and its milky eyes stay for a moment. Something contracts in its chest- oh, is this longing? There are colors to be seen that exist on a different spectrum, things that exist on too many planes for the two to truly understand and comprehend, but there it was- things that were improbable, impossible, shown and laid bare by a creature that could span light years with a swipe of its hand.

The lights began to fade and the sun came back to its full glory. Quickly, almost afraid, the Emissary reached forward to take its heart, hold its dying embers close and usher it gently back into its own chest. Wounds seal without fanfare. It shudders, closing its eyes.

"That's enough for today, children."

Kiara Woolfe[WP: Keep your cool, Kiara, don't get all weird and emotional about being shown the cosmos and all.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 6, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )

silence[WP: because seriously. this is breathtaking]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )

Kiara WoolfeHow do you begin to explain to someone who wasn't there for this how it felt to witness a spirit crack open its chest and reveal its heart to you?

How it felt to see things that were beyond comprehension or easy definition? There are moments where Kiara's grip around Elijah's hand feels stifling; she holds tight to the Initiate as if he were her only lifeline between staying in that cave to bear witness to what she'd sacrificed for and running as fast as she could.

There was a sort of terror to it, as well. A instinctual, bone deep fear of too much and not meant for us about the sights the Emissary shares with them. There are truths in the spiritual realms that not even Kiara's wisest Seers understood; places that she'd heard spoken of only in hushed whispers and old, long remembered retellings at Coven gatherings. Stories of the glory of the Verbena Realms, those mystical threads long ago lost to near all of them on Earth.

Cut off during the fury of the Avatar Storms.

Nights spent listening to Aisling talk of Winter Castle and the Autumn Circle; the legends of the Aeduna and the origins of the Pathways themselves. Kiara's heard the stories but it doesn't quite touch the reality of this - of seeing and feeling the knowledge of the spirits themselves.

-

Her eyes are bright and she's relinquished Elijah's hand by the time the Emissary reaches to reclaim its heart and press the dying embers of it back inside itself; to watch it shudder as if physically drained from the act of sharing so much with them. The Verbenae's throat works; she breathes out with a slow, careful motion and it's as the stillness fades - the sounds and scents and awareness of life return - the insects, the trickle of water, the sunlight dappling the grass outside, the dampness of the air and the way the earth smells - that Kiara seems to stir herself from the moment.

Finds her voice and offers, subdued:

"Thank you for sharing your dreams with us, Keeper of Secrets." A beat, she drops her eyes and then lets them find Elijah's face; there's wetness on Kiara's cheeks; damp tear-tracks left there at some point; she doesn't seem to even notice them as she looks back to the spirit and lifts her chin.

"Can we return and learn more, when we're ready to?"

silenceThere is a moment where Elijah's hand stays interlocked with Kiara's, a moment where the young man in perpetual motion goes still, sees something in truth that is more like himself but not, but more of what he could never fathom to be living in the spaces between the stars and he is awed. Except, of course, this is not the word. Except, of course, this does not come close.

Funny, a creature so held together by words and he has a moment where he does nto have any, can not find the definition and finds that there is truth in whatever the Keeper of Secrets had shown them. There is silence, a quiet and thoughtful moment where he feels like he can't breathe. Feels like his heart won't start, feels a part of himself quieted and reminded that the world is vast, that there is wonder to be had amidst the horror-

That the horror is part of the wonder.

That moment where it hits him that this is beyond his capacity to truly understand, that by the virtue of being mortal and as he is, he can not understand all of this. HIs breathing is slow, shallow, his fingers don't leave Kiara's and there they are, clinging to the vestiges of the earth below them while the cosmos unfolds by for a second.

Eventually, he does let go.

---

The Emissary regards her, head cocks tot he side and its delicate fingers steeple in front of it while it thinks. Muses, really, because what sort of creature does not muse? There is a moment where it must think, feel the aching in its chest, the weariness in its form that it knows the shadows see. Things are not so simple here.

"Come as you will," it finally says, "we have an accord."

It nods, but turns its back and retreats into the cave again. The cave was ancient, as Kiara had suspected, and the steps go again from featherlight to something that aches in the soil, something that leaves the barest hints of front on the ground as it retreats, gossamer threads and marble.

Then shadow.

Then glowing embers.

Then a comfortable nothing. Silence returns to the cave, and the world outside of them continues in its chatter, as though nothing had occurred.

Kiara WoolfeShe watches it leave, the pagan. Watches the way it seems to gather the very edges of the universe about itself as it spins closed in its wake the very seams that kept their worlds apart. Passes out of sight and reach back into the shadows. And its a little like surfacing, then.

The cave seems to unfold around them, like a curtain gently tugged down over furniture hidden for years from gathering dust. It settles: noise, motion. The world resuming again and it's after she's watched the spirit pass from sight and after she's turned her eyes on Elijah for a long, still moment that a sudden, bright smile surfaces on her face and Kiara flings herself at him -

"Oh my God. Did that just happen? Oh my God."

- laughing, her arms around his neck and her cheek pressed against his; hot and damp, where she'd shed tears at some unspoken point. There's a thrumming, wild energy to Kiara that seems almost jarring after what they'd borne witness to. Dried blood on her palm and she turns her face to kiss Elijah's brow and then his mouth; pulling back to smile at him.

"I told you this cave was worth it." A breathed exultation of pleasure.

silenceThere was a moment, sure, where he was probably supposed to have words. Probably. No one had ever accused Hermetics or being people who didn't have a shit ton of things to say at any given occasion- in truth, Elijah had yet to meet a single one that did not have a command of language that made him stare up in almost fangirl expectations- but there he was. The dust had settled, his heart was beating loud and fast and he could swear that was the only thing he could hear until-

Oh my God-
"Holy shit-"
Did that just happen?
"Holy shit that-"
Oh my God.
"-just... fucking happened!"

There is a moment where he can't come up with anything to say but she flings herself at him and it's taking him a moment to really process that the world really is vast and overwhelming like he had suspected and he can't even begin to tell Jenn about this (a shame, too, because he wondered how she would paint this. He wondered, perhaps, maybe would save some of his adventures with his mentor for Jenn. Maybe. Or maybe he would just have moments like these where the only thing he can think is curse words.)

His arms slip around her waist, grin bright, and it's a moment where he lifts, picks up and twirls in a circle with her because sometimes the only fucking response you can have is to pick someone up and twirl. He puts her down, she kisses his brows then his lips and he pulls back and he's laughing- a sound that proves joy must surely be a sacred passion.

"Oh my God," he looks up, eyes are glassy and shimmery watery for reasons that need not be explained, "ohhhh my god that was- did-" he lets out some breathless sound, "I've been looking at the stars for so long and I never knew."

Kiara Woolfe
There's a giddiness that radiates from Kiara; a way she clutches at his hands and draws them toward herself and then away, as if they were children who had just discovered the pure unadulterated joy of Christmas. Elijah is laughing and the brunette is too; some half formed; half articulated noise of exhilaration and pleasure that spills from her as they struggle to articulate what just happened.

She pushes fingers through the heavy fall of her hair and it dawns on Kiara that her flashlight is still lying by the mouth of the cave; her bag, half upturned in her quest to discover something, anything, with which to make the connection. She reclaims both, checking the feeble, dying beam of light before clicking it off and scooping her belongings up; twisting back to face Elijah with that bright, flushed excitement still high in her cheeks.

"We can come back."

She declares with a rush, her fingers momentarily curled around her palm; thumb stroking over the point where she'd sliced herself; looks down at it and then over at the boy with her, her mouth curling up at the edge. "It had more to show us, I'm sure of it." There's an edge of something solemn and hopeful in the Verbenae's voice, then. A low burn of soul deep yearning - to discover, to understand more of the world beyond theirs.

To immerse herself in the spiritual realm.

A shiver runs down her spine and Kiara starts toward Elijah; nudging into him as she passes. "I think this calls for a celebratory drink."