Session 49 - When You Wish Upon A Star

Previously, Across The Horizon...
The Starfall has arrived in Uhja, or more correctly, the Starfall has arrived outside of Uhja long enough to deposit its cargo -- one moogle captain, one sylph speaker, one viera lightning rod, one human artist, and one scowl taken human form -- outside of the tiny village, leaving them free to approach the village on their own without their usual entourage.
Upon their arrival in Uhja, they met a woman who served as the welcoming committee, giving them a bit of information before leaving them in the snow.
The Ondore Family Heritage Inn, a beautiful and very new building in this small and very old village, served as their meeting place for the true reason for their arrival; checking on the status of the Green Study Vol. 1 all-nighter from the week they all met, burning midnight oil in an attempt to save someone they had never met.
From all appearances, the attempt looks to be a success; Natron Rensa is mobile, the Azjol-Ruval Syndrome is in remission, and his fiance and best friend both could not be more pleased.
Rensa himself, while relieved, is decidedly more melancholy, but his gratitude is vast nonetheless. He and the Jidoors have extended an offer to host the party for dinner, and while Isa politely declines to pursue her own business -- Cardia-related, no doubt, what with the whole my-family-holdings-are-being-hijacked thing -- the other four have taken their hosts up on their kind offer.
We join our heroes in a small house on a small street in a small village in a vast, vast mountain range...
**
The Rensa home is three rooms, one large, one small, one bathroom.
The large room has a kitchenette on one side, a wood-burning stove attached to a brick chimney, a table that seats four, two couches (both of which have been serving as beds, but have been shoved into respectability), five bookshelves, a small desk, a rug, a fireplace, and a vase of preserved yellow flowers.
The small room is closed, but Bast's habit of scanning every point of entry had him see inside when Natron went in to get a cookbook, into a bedroom that is shoved full of medical equipment.
The bathroom is unexciting, as most bathrooms are.
"Apologies for the lack of chairs," Natron says methodically, sitting in one of the four. "We were not expecting visitors, otherwise we would have asked around."
Yves is currently dealing with his refreshed memory of his Worst Social Faux Pas Ever by staring intently at the nearest bookshelf, and perhaps giving the inadvertent impression that he's judging the contents. (Which he /is/, but not in a rude way. At least not intentionally in a rude way.)
Orrey looks over from his perusal of the third bookshelf so far. “No worries!”
Linnet ingratiated herself into the kitchen upon arrival with the easy charm of one who spends a lot of time in there; she's currently chatting merrily with Ryna and chopping some sort of spicy root. She calls over her shoulder, "Please, no standing on ceremony for us. We're just happy to be on solid ground."
"Not a problem" Bast replies, crouching in front of the fireplace to warm his hands. "Ah, that's better. I didn't realize how quickly the cold can get under the skin, here."
The bookshelves show a healthy range of hobbies, with a number of travel books highlighting the furthest reaches of Ducorde, histories of Alterna, a massive set of tomes of theological study, a 700-page book on migratory patterns, geology textbooks, two full shelves of romance novels, a collection of sheet music, and a history of beach-town fashion.
"What other business brought you to Cardia?" Ryna asks the room at large.
Yves stares a little wistfully at the romance novels, but makes sure to follow the trend of making reassuring noises, if a bit vaguely in his case.
"Meeting a friend that we hope to drag along with us, and a possible contract or two," Bast says.
"Once she gets back to me on where the heck she ended up. She's a little, um, head-in-the-clouds," Linnet says.
"You're mercenaries, then," Ryna says, perfectly neutrally.
"Adventurers! But, adventurers who need to pay for things. So, yes, sometimes," Linnet says.
"Do mercenaries only take violent contracts?" Yves asks, looking away from the bookshelf. "I've never been completely clear on the distinctions. I think with privateers, you're pirates but official, and there has to be a ship involved..."
"Last one we did on the way here was recording a concert. People pay for all sorts of things, sometimes," Bast says.
“Mostly bounty hunter...uh...ing so far. We don’t fight wars or anything like that.” Orrey helps.
"Adventurers are far different from mercenaries, Ryna," Barea says in a loving scold, which gets the reaction it deserves. "Adventurers are free to roam the skies and seas, right up until they run out of money. Mercenaries draw steel against any of those who deserve it, at least until those who hired them run out of money."
"Oh. Well, we did end up drawing steel on the last contract, but they drew claw first," Linnet says.
Bast glances over at Linnet. "The one before last. The concert wasn't that exciting."
Barea drapes a quilt around Natron's shoulders, drawing a beleaguered sigh from his fiance. "Not that there's anything wrong with either of those. Mercenaries fit a very important role here in Cardia, after all. Wouldn't have the landed gentry have to busy themselves with something so deplorable as fighting."
"...right. Sorry, that stupid factory's gonna stick with me for a while." Linnet shivers and turns back to her horseradish potatoes. "Could one of you bigger stronger types come smash these?"
Orrey looks around for whomever Linnet could possibly be referring to.
Yves decides that /definitely/ doesn't mean him. "It seems like there are only so many niches that support a group wandering lifestyle, though. Wandering adventurers, yes. Wandering accounting firms, not that I've heard of yet?"
"Do you all have a name?" Natron asks.
"Not one that we've managed to agree on yet, and Bast keeps dismissing my suggestions as 'too theatrical.'" Linnet winks at her captain.
Bast wiggles his fingers and regretfully pulls away from the fire and towards the kitchen. "We're kind of making it up as we go" he calls over his shoulder before starting on the potatoes.
Orrey sighs. “Not yet, though I was thinking maybe the Star Seekers.”
"That's either too on the nose, or sounds like we're trying to hire new opera singers," Yves says. He sits down carefully on one of the couches. "...though, I mean, the second's not a bad way to look less threatening."
"Ooh, big horned helmets for everyone? I think we have enough in the costume section of the hold..." Linnet says.
"If you're interested in astronomy, you've come to the right place," Ryna says. "The air up here is so thin that on clear nights, the sky is full of stars."
The potatoes are starting to smell rather appetizing, and the bread in the oven is browning nicely.
“Seen any falling stars?” Orrey asks without thinking.
"I saw one the night before I left for Caerwyn," Ryna says. "I thought it was good luck, or at least I really wanted it to be."
"It may turn out to be after all. At the very least, it'll almost certainly lead our friend to us here." Linnet's smile this time has no hint of anything except joy, and maybe a tiny bit of awkward. "Right, I hope you're hungry. Someone grab some drinking vessels and I'll start filling plates, and we can talk more about stars and important things over food."
Yves pops back up from the couch, since drinking vessels are something he /does/ have the strength to grapple with. Though hopefully they won't resist much.
With some of Yves' mushroom stash, a cut of deer Ryna just recently cleaned, some potatoes, a horseradish root, and generous amounts of butter, venison stroganoff is the order of the day.
Barea assists in distributing the food, and stands by Natron's side, holding his plate to eat. Ryna takes one of the chairs at the table.
Yves makes sure everyone has a filled cup, and then hesitates a moment between table and couches, before finally sitting on a couch arm that points him near the table.
Orrey pops down next to Yves and digs in. “This is amazing!”
Yves says, after two bites, "It's a lot like what my grandma used to make. She said she didn't approve of dairy, but if we brought it on a visit, we'd still get some amazing sauces on whatever she'd hunted recently."
Bast makes himself comfortable on the other end of Yves' couch, plate perched on one leg crossed over the other, looking like this takes no thought or balancing as he begins to eat.
Linnet, kneeling at one end of the low table, looks like she has no idea how to accept this many compliments, so she settles for a quick smile and a quiet "Thanks, guys" before digging in. The bread is passed to sop up the mushroom sauce, and if anyone still has room, there's a berry crisp keeping warm in the kitchen for later.
Natron finishes with his napkin, and then sets it down. The left sleeve of his robe is still down past his wrist, as opposed to the right, up by his elbow. "Linnet, you had questions for me. I imagine they are about my condition, so if it does not bother you, I would prefer you ask them with Barea and Ryna here. They spent so much time taking care of me they will have more knowledge of anything that happened during the worst attacks than I did at the time."
"Understood. As this is of an elemental nature, I figure there's nothing particularly graphic about it to disturb anyone's dinner. And if you're open, well, I suppose I can stop dancing around the point.
"Mr. Rensa, the first I knew of your condition was from meeting Ms. Jidoor at a book auction; that's the first time I'd heard of Azjol-Ruvan syndrome at all. You'd think they'd have covered it in a History of Magic major, but I guess that's more of a graduate studies thing...sorry. Anyway. I assume she related the story to you, but we tried to find all the relevant parts of the book, copy them for her, and then return the book to the library director who sent me after it in the first place. I did a very cursory read of the pages in question before we handed the book to Director Thornwell, but...if you've ever pulled an all-nighter in college, I assume you know just how poorly you retain the information afterward." Linnet looks sheepish, but continues.
He tips his head in acknowledgement.
"So that's the first time I was ever made aware that it's possible for a sylph to not just die, but be returned to their base element...which had something to do with Job Crystal corruption...and that's about all that I retained about it. And then my friend's father got kidnapped and then we went to go track down his sister and somehow we became bounty hunters? and basically, life has not stopped being ridiculous since a few days before that auction. So now we're here.
"A few days ago, the need to learn more about Azjol-Ruvan syndrome was brought back into sharp focus. So if you don't mind, I'd like to start at the beginning. How were you made aware of this condition in the first place? How do you think it happened? And what brought you to the point where you thought the answer might be in a particular book in a particular library in Caerwyn?"
Yves digs into his satchel for a notebook, because that point about retaining information is a good one.
Natron signals with his right hand, and Barea zips over into the kitchen, returning with a glass of wine and a glass of water, and then makes the rounds with the bottle in case anyone wants an after-dinner drink.
(Linnet certainly does, though she mixes them half-and-half.)
Bast nods in thanks as he takes some of the wine, not interrupting the conversation.
Yves is ready for wine too.
"I was made aware of the condition via necessity, after I contracted it. I don't know what caused it entirely, but I believe it was via an insect bite. My work took me north of Saron, perhaps a day's ride northwest of the point where the abandoned railway turns northeast. There is an old city there, long abandoned due to a swamp that rose up underneath it." Natron takes a sip of his wine. "Swamps do not generally 'rise up,' so even though this is a matter of distant history now, I went to learn more about this strange shift in the world's past. While there, I fell ill. We assumed it was the mosquitos, and for a time after I felt fine, and well enough to continue.
"For a few months after that, I honestly felt better than I ever had before. I had far more energy, I was motivated, clear in mind and in purpose. I considered it was just the rush of doing what I wanted to do with my life, and doing it well, but the signs of something greater would soon arrive.
"I began having trouble with my left shoulder, unable to raise my arm up above my head. My leg felt as if I had strained it terribly during exercise, as if a muscle had been torn. I traveled to Cardia to see a doctor, and stayed with Barea and Ryna while there. It was during physical therapy that we realized it was worse than that."
Linnet's face is trying to hold disappointed, confused, scared, and still politely attentive expressions all at once.
He examines his wine. "During the stretching exercises one morning, the therapist and I both heard a terrible crack in my back. She figured it was merely air escaping from the vertabrae, but then my shirt caught on something, and she realized that something had physically cracked in my back. The skin had hardened to shale.
"From there... research. I would go to libraries when I could make the trip, and they would go when I couldn't," he says, indicating his fiance and his fiance's sister. When my condition worsened, we made the decision to bring me back here, and then fly doctors in to help, while Ryna traveled to try to find some word of anything like this."
"A doctor in Caelonde told me of a forbidden practice of sealing the crystal to dampen one's magic," Ryna says quietly, tracing a finger around the rim of her glass. "She theorized that if it worked to seal the Job Crystal, perhaps it would do the same for one borne of crystal.
"It felt like the wildest attempt, but... but we were out of time. I received a letter two days later, that..."
"...that he had gone silent," Barea says, the light gone from his voice. "The solidification, it spread to his chest and jaw. He could breathe only with assistance, and even then, it would be..." He falls silent, and no one looks interested in continuing with the hypothetical.
Linnet nods. "So is that around when I met you, Ryna?"
"I took the train to Caerwyn, to take the last shot," she confirms.
"...and you think it specifically worked on Mr. Rensa because he's an earth sylph, and there was a deeper connection than usual with the crystal?"
"The disease is limited to sylphs, and the... incubation is not the word. The time for the symptoms to accelerate to critical status, that takes a very long time. Years," Ryna says. "It is rare. Natron's case was unique, due to his Geomancy."
"Oh, no, sorry, I was referring to the sealing process. Got ahead of myself a bit."
"I am an earth sylph, and I had a deep affinity for the elements as a result of my work as a Geomancer," Natron says quietly. "That was accelerating the effects of the disease. Sealing the Crystal has... sealed my Geomancy completely. The disease no longer accelerates, and responds to treatment."
"How is it treated?"
"Aetherical injections, alternating between water and wind to keep the earth aspect from enlarging again. Some very uncomfortable procedures regarding skin softening. And a bevy of pills, for the side effects of the aether."
"...so they're expecting this to be a lifelong thing, then." In a move recognizable by now as a defense mechanism, Linnet has shifted position and is hugging her knees to her chest.
"There is no cure known within Cardia's borders, and Ryna found nothing in Machanon or Caerwyn to say otherwise," Barea says, some of his color returning. "But we will persevere, just as we always have done, just with a great many more colorful vials in the cabinet."
"You fear you have it," Natron says to Linnet, his tone gentle yet firm.
Orrey has been taking all of this in, pondering the significance of Linnet asking about this.
"Actually, I'm suspecting not. Which is somewhat of a relief, but somewhat not, because that's one fewer answer than I thought I might have. My own manifestation was less of an illness and more of a trauma, and now that I understand it more it doesn't seem like the same thing at all...which I suppose is hopeful, if not getting me any closer to getting my winds back. ...basically, I got smashed to within an inch of death by a giant lab experiment and returned to the land of the living suddenly unable to leave the ground, conjure a breeze, or even blow my own hair out of my eyes. From one second to the next, my connection to my element was completely severed. This was my only lead, but I appreciate very much your taking the time to explain it to me, because it sounds like this isn't the lead I need to pursue."
"We still have the notes, if you think you would gain something by looking through them," Ryna says. 
"My library, meager though it is, is at your disposal tonight," Natron confirms.
"It's not /that/ meager," Yves says quietly, thinking of exactly how many books he has on hand these days.
"Oh heck yes. If you'd be okay with my doing some puttering, I need to have a lot more notes before I leave this time around," Linnet says.
"Might be worthwhile to have a copy of the notes?" Bast gives Linnet a questioning look. "We did run into that one rather accelerated case. I wouldn't rule it out entirely, with everything else that was going on there."
Orrey nods and gets out his notebooks and writing utensils. “You wouldn’t happen to have some coffee around, would you?”
"I will put a pot on," Natron says, gripping his cane to get to his feet. "And I'll hear nothing of the matter, you're terrible at it," he says to Barea, who is very fake-offended.
"Just like old times," Yves says, flipping to a fresh page in the notebook. "Coffee, all-nighters, and copying."
When she looks up from her defensive curl, Linnet's blinking back tears but also smiling. "Mr. Rensa, I can't imagine being in your, uh, lack of shoes, but the fact that you're still facing life with a smile after all it's thrown at you is a much-needed kick in the panic pants. Mr. Jidoor, you're the best partner and the snappiest-dressed caretaker anyone could hope for, and Ryna..." She chokes up a bit and holds out a hand. "Just...thank you."
Ryna takes Linnet's hand and squeezes it, a gesture Barea repeats with her. "We will do all we can to help," Ryna says.
After a few sniffly and slightly damp hugs and a quick face-washing detour, Linnet returns with a fresh supply of pencils stuck through her braid and bowls of berry crisp dished out all around. "Right. Who's ready to take some notes?"
“There’s another thing I can do that may help...I’ve been studying the Job of the Oracle and advancing my connection with the gods. I could request an answer to a question, if the need is great. Just a yes or a no, but it could give you some additional knowledge to work with.” Orrey is slightly hesitant, knowing from past experience that not everyone believes as strongly as he does.
The third book Bast drops in front of Orrey leads to something interesting; there was a theological component to any sort of crystal manipulation. The process could only be done during the nights of Somnus, and fell under her faithful's dominion.
"Can't hurt to try," Yves says absently, as he pokes through texts.
Bast looks slightly aghast at Yves' comment, but doesn't actually object.
Bast's own research pointed at something regarding ritual sites and the specific construction of them; multiple texts point to a specific room layout for the new moon ceremonies, twelve concentric rings etched onto the ground and a 'divinely-inspired' path for the crystal bearer to walk, crossing every path twice, with the path walked said to redirect the energies. The documentation emphasizes to only ever walk it the one way, as reversing the seal could have dire consequences.
Yves has been transcribing for nearly an hour when he lands on something very important from Green Study Vol. 1's notes -- that the manipulation of aetheric energy could be done not only to cut off the flow of aether entirely and seal a crystal, it could be used to transfer the aether from one crystal into another, or one person into another. This was done in very small doses with the Empress herself; a tiny spark of the Emperor's own aether was preserved inside of a jewel in the crown, with a new jewel added every time another one took the throne.
Yves makes a note, and frowns, and makes more notes, muttering under his breath about "kitten cannons".
Linnet's medicinal focus puts her into the medical journals of the Alternan Empire, and the third cup of coffee finds the section on Aether Sickness, which appears to be a catch-all for anything ranging from coma to depression. Digging through that, though, brings up interesting theories on aetherical humours, where when one aether is low -- wind, for example -- it is because another aether is too elevated. Treatments depended on the severity of the imbalance and the nature of the depleted aether, but there is a mention of hurricane ships.
There are corresponding mutters about "what were these lunatics thinking" and at least one choke on a sip of coffee. "Hey, Captain, can we fly the ship into a hurricane to see if I catch winds from it?"
Orrey looks up and raises an eyebrow. “Does that work?”
"No idea, haven't been in a hurricane in this ship."
Orrey's dive into the annals of history pulls up two reasons the most intense aether manipulation, that being crystal sealing, would be done at all; a last-ditch treatment for the worst diseases, and execution of the most diabolical prisoners.
Orrey’s eyes widen in horror as he reads that, then he slams the book shut and moves on to another one.
"...how about we do some more research first." Bast doesn't look up from a worn-looking book about regional crafting techniques and practices.
"Blast, I was hoping that would at least get you to throw something at me."
Still not looking, Bast balls up a discarded note and lobs it in Linnet's general direction.
The hour stretches past nine as Yves spreads six more books out on the floor, three half-full mugs steaming by his side as he reads about the ritual implement, a skysteel-forged book called the Akademos, a tome of only the holiest of Alternan lore, a relic that does not appear in any rumors after the fall of the Empire.
"Probably can't kludge /that/ together from scrap and the ship's welding room," Yves mutters to himself, reaching absently out in a direction that none of his mugs are in, then patting around for one of them until it's located, without taking his eyes off the books.
Linnet does not find the secrets of the crystal cookware, but as those who would undergo this ritual did have a feast thrown in their honor -- "regardless of the terms of their arrival in this state" -- she does find a great deal of interesting recipes that she can add to the Starfall's repertoire.
Now this is greeted with considerable excitement, and shared with the Jidoor-Rensa family, along with Linnet's cinnamon roll recipe and that delightful mushroom sauce.
Bast glances up suspiciously and makes a mental note to see just what Yves thinks of as the ship's "welding room" and whether the engine is still in one piece, then gets back to reading.
The sun has long since set as Orrey digs into the political history of the Empire, specifically in the later years during the higher tensions. There is a stretch where this vanishes from record, not just whether or not it was done but whether or not it even existed. One historian of the late era, Junius, argued that 'the rending of aether was just another mistruth crafted to create the fear of the all-powerful empire, a might so grand it could sever one's soul from its source, so that none could ever rise against.'
Linnet's stretched out on the couch as she reads a passage about how all of Alterna would fall into a state of mourning for the sealing of a crystal, as this represented separating someone from Alterna itself, and this act was one of the most tragic things that could befall someone.
Natron shakes his head to Orrey, after having taken the last three hours to think over his offer, fatigue starting to set in. "There is nothing I would ask the gods that I would not rather find on my own," he says.
"Phew. Goodness. Okay, Mr. Jidoor, Mr. Rensa, could you help me reestablish how these were on the shelves?" Obviously Linnet can't leave the library in the mess it's in on the floor. (No book in active use is moved, but the piles stacked haphazardly on the floor and the table can be put away.)
The book in Bast's hand is so old the ink has dried to the point of illegibility, an artifact more than a piece of learning, so it takes the light of an oil lamp and the reflection of the window's glass to get something out of it, that being the mention of a critical piece of the aetherical puzzle -- the conductive value of the golemwood, "given willingly by the Grove."
(And "reestablish" is code for "tell me how to put these away, without getting up, especially you, Mr. Rensa.")
Yves is methodically finishing off all the half-full mugs around him, sitting back on his heels with the books he was examining now safely closed.
A shadow passes over the window, jolting the moogle and sloshing the coffee someone placed on top of a precarious stack of books, and then a knock comes at the door, here after 10 PM.
Yves' ears twitch briefly into full and upright locked position. There... may be a lot of coffee inside him right now.
"Oh for heaven's sake." Linnet snatches the coffee mug off the top of the stack of books, gives it to Yves, and picks up the books to continue shelving.
Bast sets the book down quietly and glances over at Ryna. "Expecting anyone?"
Ryna shakes her head. "Not this late, no," she says, walking to the door with the casual stride of someone who's been living in a small town where nothing happens for a very long time now.
Orrey glances at his watch, and doesn’t put it away.
Natron looks very, very tired, but still overall pleased. Barea has yawned half a dozen times.
Bast not-quite-casually steps to put a couch between him and the door, one hand in a pocket.
Linnet manages to grab the last stack of books before the door opens and is thus productively bustling by the bookshelf. The notes are still all over the floor, but that could be from anything. "Yves? Could you gather up the papers, please?"
Ryna opens the door. "Who is it?"
Yves starts gathering papers, his ears slowly drooping back down into their natural position now that nothing has exploded.
"This is quite the gathering," comes the very recently familiar voice of the Warrior of Light who accosted them in the Inn. "A party, and I wasn't invited?"
"Oh," Ryna says. "Arenvald."
"Surely they can see there aren't enough chairs," says Yves, collating papers briskly.
He looks past Ryna to take in the group, and the light of the flickering lamp reflects in the blade of his axe. "Just wanted to make sure no one was bothering the village's beloved geomancer," Arenvald says, his eyes boring holes in Orrey's throat. "If they give you any trouble, Ryna, you need but say."
"I will, Arenvald. We're fine. I appreciate your concern," Ryna says, giving him a small, weary smile.
Orrey’s grip tightens on his watch, but he matches the axehole’s gaze.
"There's still coffee," Yves says to the axe man, gesturing vaguely with an empty mug, "if you're feeling especially lonely."
"Yves, please don't go inviting strange men with axes into other people's houses, it's not especially polite. Oh, Mister Warrior of Lout! Fancy meeting you here so long after dark. I'm sure your room at the inn would be much more comfortable than standing out here in the snow, nice to see you, good night."
"I intend to get my sleep," Arenvald replies coolly. "Big day tomorrow, after all. Sleep well, friends."
There's a bit of a rush to shut the door.
He walks back toward the Inn, not bothering to look back.
“What does he mean about a big day tomorrow?” Orrey asks, afraid of the answer.
"I thought I was making a point that you can't just invite yourself to a party," Yves says mournfully. "I mean, I learned that in third grade! Surely he should know! But I'm not great at the passive aggressive commentary thing. Never did learn the skill. They should write up a manual on it or something..."
"I'm sorry about him," Ryna says, giving Orrey a shrug in response to his question. "Please don't judge Arenvald too harshly. He paid for my ticket to Caerwyn, and he does a lot to keep Uhja safe."
"Safe from what, besides himself?" Linnet asks quietly, turning away to indicate no expectation of an answer. "Look, it's late and we've kept you up plenty. Let two of us stay a few extra minutes to help with the dishes, the other two take our notes to the inn and see about rooms, someone try to find Isaline, and then we'll be out of your hair and in a much, much better place to start tomorrow. Sound okay?"
"Does he work for the Ondores?" Bast doesn't seem to relax much after the door closes, or as he starts gathering dishes and mugs.
"That sounds wonderful, thank you," Ryna says, yawning. "I'm sorry about that. Later than I expected. I assume he does, from how he acts." Ryna helps everything get put away before thanking everyone again and making them promise to come see them one more time before they depart.
"We could always pitch him into a--" Yves pauses, and finishes shuffling papers. "Of course, we'll be very polite to all your friends."
"No pitching anybody into an anything without proper planning."
"I would plan," Yves mutters. "I have all /sorts/ of plans, though most of them require Isa, or at least someone with a good throwing arm..."
"Thank you all so much, and good night. We have an awful lot to think about." Linnet may not have much more in the way of answers, but her step is lighter and her smile comes a little easier than before.
Barea and Natron also both give their goodbyes, Barea definitely not having drifted off on the couch during the study session, and Natron definitely looking like he needs to call it a night himself.
“Oh, one last thing. If we find out anything more, would you be opposed to a message being sent to you?” Orrey asks.
"Not at all. Messages do arrive at least once a week, especially as we're heading out of the worst of winter," Ryna says.
“I should specify, a message in a dream...” Orrey feels a bit weird about saying that out loud. “It’s a bit faster than the post.”
Bast gives Orrey a "what sort of books have you been reading" look.
Ryna has absolutely no idea how to respond to that so says "...sure?"
Orrey shrugs. “Somnus aids the Oracle by allowing messages to be sent in dreams. I’ve yet to try it, but it could be useful, don’t you think, Bast?”
The night is somehow even colder than the day, which for the non-Cardians in the group -- that being everyone currently present -- seems incredibly unfair. There are no lights on the streets or in the few houses the four travelers pass, the only illumination coming from the brilliant star-filled sky above.
“Are we putting this on the Star Seeker tab or each paying individually?” Orrey asks, sighing at the thought of the cost. “I don’t imagine we’d survive a night out in this.” He shivers and keeps trudging towards the inn.
"I think it's individual, unless we can make a bounty out of this stop," Yves says. "At least we've been making decent money lately?"
"Well, they did say two per room, max," Linnet says.
The tree in the center of the village stretches up, decorated with the myriad of ornaments and strung with white and gold garland. The chocobos that meandered around it when Linnet came out earlier are all gone, fortunately.
"Might be able to sneak someone in through a window..." Yves mutters.
However, there is a figure there, sitting on a bench in the middle of the night, wrapped in a thick blue cloak, fleece-lined hood drawn up to obscure their face.
They appear to be waiting.
"I'm kind of tempted to see how hard it would be to get through a night out here. But no point if it's just the four of us tonight, I suppose," Bast says.
"Captain, with all respect, don't you dare freeze your pom-pom off to save a pile of gil." Linnet, having an inkling, approaches the bench and takes a seat next to the figure in the cloak. "Awfully cold to be out this late."
The figure reaches up with brown-gloved hands and pulls the hood down and back. "I don't know that I've ever been so cold," Perilune says through chattering teeth, her blue hair somehow making her look even colder than you feel.
"You could've waited inside, you silly snowflake!" Linnet hugs her impulsively and then hurries her off the bench and toward the door of the inn. "These places normally have something called an inn, which holds heat and chairs and things that do not have snow on them..."
"I know, but I wasn't sure where you were, and I wanted to see you in case I'd just missed you, and the nice man in there didn't know you all by name but he had your descriptions so I was sure..." Perilune trails off, dragged away under the darkening sky.
Perilune stops, dislodging herself from Linnet for a moment.
Yves looks back at Orrey and Bast. "...so, which of us two rooms together, and which one gets a solitary room that might acquire an Isa later?"
"Um, Yves..." Linnet's trying not to blush and giggle and swear all at once.
“Depends on which of you snores the loudest. Although Perilune might get her own room, maybe?” Orrey says in a stage whisper.
Perilune draws her hood back up, quickly, eyes scanning the night sky. "Get inside. Quickly. Something's not right, this wasn't what I--"
A star streaks across the sky.
"...oh /root rot/," Yves says.
"...I take it that was bad?" Linnet asks in mid-run, one hand clutching Perilune's, the other Orrey's.
Orrey tracks the Star as it goes. He’s rooted to the ground, watching it intently to determine where it’s going to land.
It is easy to track, since it has finished its path across the sky, and now it is coming back.
"Orrey, winds dammit, get inside. We can find it in the daylight!" Linnet exclaims.
"...but what will the man with the axe do to it first?" Yves asks.
The star streaks back across the sky, then grows larger, and larger, and larger still.
Orrey’s eyes widen to match the Star.
Bast smacks Orrey on the back of the head to get his attention. "Shelter now, stargazing after. Come on!"
Perilune reaches inside of her cloak and pulls out a small copper globe, one orbited by a dozen slowly spinning cards. "I'm so sorry, Linnet," she whispers.
“Ow! OKAY, okay!” Orrey takes off after everyone, glancing back over his shoulder to see where the star goes.
"...for what?" Now Linnet's slowing down, watching over her shoulder.
Bast doesn't wait for everyone to finish talking as he sprints for cover.
The star winks out when it is twice the size of the moon, and then the darkness unfolds, surrounding the village, spreading the absence of light like wings.
WE HAVE FOUND YOU
Words scratch themselves across the sky.
STARSCOURGE
End session.