necrosaint | deer country: ic inbox.

Nor would I have, before. [Before his own necromancy became something decidedly stranger, intertwined with another century's practice at mitigating and taming pillar corruption.

Now he could animate something in the semblance of a tree, he's sure. But it wouldn't be the same as bringing back a tree itself.] Though I don't doubt you could discover a way, if you wished to.

[And ah! That smile. (That smile on a face so like Harrowhark's--Illarion's memories lend weight and pathos to the sight.) That's more than worth time spent looking for oddities in the woods to bring her.

He has so much lost time to make up for.]

It's hazy yet, [he says, low and slow and thoughtful,] exactly what this little one is becoming. But that it may grow to something we could speak to...

[He tips his head, sightless eyes closed.

Iskierka burbles her thanks at Stasya, squinting at one thick root in particular, before turning her head to follow it with her gaze. It leads away from Ache, deeper into the woods...]

...It's more likely if we make a point of speaking to it often, ourselves.

[Then he flashes her an answering grin.] She does, now and again, though she claims only a little proficiency in it. I would dearly love to know what she's make of this one.

I will tell it stories. And perhaps if, when, we are gone ...

[ She's come to understand it's Harrowhark, not Devyata, who belongs in this place, and she is likely to go back from whence she came soon enough and leave Harrowhark behind. Or else that's the common assumption. ]

... the others might read it poetry, or sing a hymn, if stories are not so much to their liking. I'm sorry you can't bring it back for Esifr. [ that last part is tacked on as a quickly spoken addition, but the emotions are genuine as ever. it's very sad. ]

[When we are gone. It was a sad thought, that their sojourn here had a definite end to it; though there was equal grief in the notion they might permanently replace their echt-selves, who'd had their own reasons for emerging from the Sea.

Restoration gives Devyata's words the space and weight of silence they deserve.]

When we are gone, I think they will still take joy in this connection. [To each other, and to who the shed had made them.] I will write myself about it.

[His expression comes over more wistful then, at the mention of his wife--his Star.] Who knows that I won't get to tell her the story of it, at least--as if this has all been a strange dream. It will be enough, if I can.

[ It's something Harrow wouldn't do, then, that Devyata does next—reaches out for her Prince-brother's hand to squeeze it if he'll allow. ]

They are both receptive to letters, I think. And who knows, maybe we will get to stay after all. I think that'd be okay with me, but I would want her here for you, too.

[ She is definitely petting the tree, now, as Stasya wigglebutts eagerly at Iskierka. ]

[He does allow, and turns a smile on her once more as he returns the squeeze.]

It wouldn't be so bad a life, would it? There is much worth learning, and many here who could use help in becoming who they are meant to be.

I would miss her--and miss even more not knowing what she would make of the Waking World, and its gods-who-would-not-be-gods.

But, [brightly,] nothing is fixed. So we will witness what Generation has dreamed for us as it unfolds, hm?

[Iskierka chirps in excitement, ruffling up her wings at Stasya before bounding off down the root she'd been studying on all sixes. Is that a finger-bone poking up from the soil, off there in the distance?]

The other Illarion must miss us, too. His family.

[ Devyata has no idea that she doesn't exist to the other Illarion, and hopefully no one tells her, either. But certainly he must miss his wife and children. ]

Yet I don't think he's gone back to them, unless maybe he has, and we are always here forever now. Not yet our time to learn. Stasya--

[ -- stasya is not here, stasya has run off after iskierka and skidded to a stop in front of what might have been a bone, run in a tiny circle and started to try to dig it up. ]

deer country: ic inbox.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject