31. Respite Part 1
General Summary
Study Session
As Marwa reels from the revelation, Julius escorts Mika over to a shelf at one end of the T-shape of his study; mostly handwritten notes but a few bound volumes, all well worn and carefully ordered. In voices too low to be heard from the centre of the room, he indicates what's where. Mika drops to a knee to get a better look at the journals, slides the first one out and flips it open while Julius returns to his daughter. "You were looking for information on Wishes, still?" he asks. "Yes...and other things." He waits a moment for her to specify. She uses her way of whispering on the wind so the sound is audible for him only. "Psionic defenses. Anything I can learn, or practice, or anything the party can do. In case." And her eyes flash over to Mika. "I'm not scared," she hurries to clarify, "but. He's worried he might - fuck. He might hurt us? I just. I don't think he will! It seemed wise to know something about this." Julius follows her eyes to the warlock. Concern grows on his face. He's thinking about his travels with Isaac. He and Alejandro both watched that man deteriorate, lose his sense of self piece by piece, separating from the world the rest of them walked in, drawn to somewhere else by the song in his head. But they never felt they were in danger from him. Having their baby girl invested in the same dead-end path was already heartbreaking. Knowing it could end with her not only grieving, but hurt, or worse... Marwa continues, filling the silence in a rush of words sped by anxiety. Misdirected, Julius thinks, for the young man studying behind him. "Or if there are psionic tricks we can use to yank him out of...wherever he goes. Yeah. Whatever you got on psionics, I guess." She shrugs, wincing. Julius waits for the silence to last more than a second before replying. She's clearly wound up about this, and he wants to hear anything she can share - anything he can learn. Anything he can use to ease her pain, now or later. She says she's not scared and he believes her. She's always been their brave little thunderstorm, but he's scared for her. He knows this is her choice and he can't tell her who to help - that telling her to think of your own safety would fly in the face of the person she is - and he's so proud of that person. But, just for a second, he wishes he could tell her anyway. He uses a cantrip to speak privately, keeping his tone calm. "Psionics are odd magic. They're not of the Weave." He indicates the shelf behind her. "It's largely a matter of mental discipline. Any sapient creature can cultivate simple defenses this way. Resisting a direct attack is more difficult. "Psionics are not of the Weave," he continues, "but there are a few counterdefenses that are. Well - two. The first is a technique invented by the Githzerai, powerful magic that takes years to master. A ward that renders the mind immune to all outside forces. I'm afraid this is outside my repertoire. "The other you could consider a step on the way to that kind of total protection. It is Enchantment magic, but rather than manipulating the subject's thoughts, it provides them mental tools. Using those tools, the subject can build defenses." Marwa tilts her head, a little confused. He smiles patiently. "Think of your mind as an object - any object. That bookend." he indicates a carved block of heavy wood supporting the end of a shelf. It's open, exposed to the air around it. The spell applies the weave as an overlay, like laying a bolt of silk. The weave takes on the same shape as the mind." She nods, following. "The subject is then able to shape this overlaid copy as they wish, most typically to create defenses. If one's mind can be imagined as a house, this spell enables a creature to change it into a fortress." Marwa's eyes widen. "That seems...relevant. Do I need to study for thirty years first?" Julius chuckles despite himself. "That depends on your discipline. A builder who doesn't know how to use her tools cannot construct much of anything." He gestures her to sit at the low table at the centre of the room, and joins her there. "Shut your eyes," he says, once she's settled. She does. "Take a breath in, through your nose, slow. Let it back out. Focus on it; follow it's course." Marwa doesn't nod; she recognizes a basic principle of mindfulness, a topic she's touched on before. Julius walks her through some basic exercises, using her breath to keep pace with the present moment, resisting the desire to hold on or rush forward. Letting thoughts flow by, reading them but not touching them. Achieving a state of calm and focus. The crux of the lesson is familiarity with the mind. "Getting to know your own mind is somewhat abstract," he admits, "You might find a metaphor useful. Some envision their mental selves as a house, putting different parts of themselves into different rooms. I had a friend once who preferred the idea of a forest with various groves and creatures. Whatever space you envision, the object is to be able to navigate it blindfolded and deafened. "One of the scary things about a psionic attack," he continues, calm but serious, "is that it's unlike a fireball or an arrow. There is no sign it's coming until it begins. Reflexes are as important as they are in any other defense - perhaps more. "If you know your mind like the back of your hand, you can recognize immediately when something has changed without your influence, and react faster." "That makes sense! So familiarity with the space...everything." "The entire space," Julius emphasizes. "The space is your mind, your self, your memory, your mental habits, your demons. To memorize it is to confront and understand every part of yourself. There's an argument that complete comprehension and acceptance is impossible due to your own ever-changing nature. I'm more of the mind that it's not a thing one is ever finished doing. It's a thing one maintains. There will always be rooms that are easier to enter than others." "Sounds...terrifying, to be honest." A gentle smile. "It can be." "Okay. So, if I was trying to help someone locked in their own house..." Julius' smile fades. Marwa continues anyway. "I can pick locks in real life... never tried it in someone's mind before. Probably requires a bit more training, eh?" "doing anything in someone else's mind would, yes." He glances, involuntary, at the warlock, who's squinting at the scrawled text in one of the journals, frowning. "For most." Marwa follows his glance, but in the second before her gaze returns to her dad, Mika's eyes glaze over, fading white, expression becoming still, focused, still looking at the journal. Julius tenses. He re recognizes the casting face from when he helped with the tattoo before, but doesn't know what he's doing now, and in light of the current topic, is apprehensive. He looks at Marwa to see if she knows what's going on, but she only shakes her head, still watching the warlock. Still white-eyed, Mika flips a page. If it weren't for the rapidity with which he switched from frowning consternation to placid, relaxed focus, it would look like normal reading. "Hey, Mika," Marwa calls, "you good?" He blinks, looks up, eyes normal. "Yeah, why?" "Just checking." He shrugs, looks back at the journal, eyes fading out again. "Alright," Marwa stands up, pushing back her cushion with the motion as she starts to saunter over, "Alright what is this mumbo jumbo you're doing?" Julius stays seated, but watches as the warlock drops his spell again, looking only very slightly annoyed. "It's called 'reading.' You do it with books. When you're studying." "Ahuh. I am familiar with the concept, although I admit it's not my favourite. You were just... it looked like you were doing a spell, is all." He glances at the wizard behind her, clocks that he's being watched with some amount of apprehension, and tilts his head in concession. "I mean, yeah, but not... okay listen." his voice drops to a private volume, and Marwa leans slightly forward to hear. He indicates the handwritten journal he's working, his expression an exasperated plea. "Your dad's penmanship is awful." Marwa throws her head back in a laugh that rebounds through the library. "I swear to gods, it took me a page to realize it was Common." Her laughter shakes her stomach, she's out of breath, tears forming in the corners of her eyes that she can hardly keep open. "So yeah," Mika concludes, a grin growing over his face as he watches her, "One I've previously only had to use on codes I don't have time to crack and languages I haven't learned." "Okay okay okay - fuck, I can't breathe - okay. I was just making sure" still laughing "that the boogie man wasn't fucking with you." "Not at the moment," he confirms, smiling. "What about you? You never said what you wanted to look up. I'm guessing Wishes?" "Wishes and magic and lots of other impossible things, yeah. Sorry, I'll let you get back to it." She straightens, catching her breath, wiping her eyes. "Figure your dad's got a copy of 'Reality-Altering Magic and How to Cast It' lying around?" his tone is sarcastic, but not mocking. "You never know what you'll find in Dad's library," she says, smiling, "It's full of secrets." "Got enough of those, thanks." "I'm sure you do, sorry." She turns to go. "I didn-" a frustrated exhale. She waves it off, "It's fine, you're fine," she excuses, returning to her dad at the table, where he's waiting with an expectant expression. "Does your dad get to be in on the joke, or is this a young-folks-only affair?" Marwa grins. "He's translating." Julius looks confused, but then she clarifies. "Didn't know your handwriting was Common for a WHOLE. PAGE." Julius is laughing before she finishes the sentence. "It's not that b- well, actually it may well be," he says, considering, "those notes are from quite a while back." "You are brilliant, Dad. The most brilliant ever. But also an illegible writer, and that's okay." She gives him a big smile, which he returns fondly. "It must be pretty terrible if I'm getting criticism from the girl who used to mix up her 'd's 'b's and 'p's almost every time." "Look they are literally the same letter with the tails going in different directions, how was I supposed to know!?" He laughs, "You know you gave your baba body image anxiety for a minute there, writing him "pear baba" notes?" "Yeah yeah yeah," she waves it off, but she's smiling. "My penmanship aside, if you're needing a break from the mental training, you had wanted reading on psionics?" "Yes! Whatever you have." "It's not a discipline I practice, myself, so I don't have instructional guides for you. But I do have some volumes..." he gets up, pulling tomes from the shelves as he continues, "What they are, how they work - theoretical of course, known spells and uses..." "Sounds good! Also anything you'd recommend on finding out more Wish stuff." Julius' face becomes serious. "You're certain that a Wish is necessary?" he asks, voice low, "it's dangerous magic." "So I hear," Marwa replies, "But I think it's necessary. And anything you can help me find out in the meantime - as long as it doesn't put you in any danger! - would be really helpful." She pauses, "Also I just remembered something I meant to ask you and I feel real bad for just thinking of it now, but, um. Was that you the Teeth were interrogating at the cabin? A week or two ago?" He nods. "It was only talk, baby." Marwa nods, but her eyes are on the tabletop. "I knew whoever it was, whichever one of you it was, could handle themselves and I had to focus on getting Asmira to safety. But yeah. Still felt shitty, just leaving like that." "You made a good call. I'm glad you were safe." Julius' voice draws her gaze back up. He smiles, "It's probably good you didn't come in view anyway - they kept asking where you were, and you know your dad's a terrible liar. Fortunately for you, I genuinely didn't know." "Yeah I had the same thought," Marwa chuckles. She straightens out, stretches her interlocked hands in front of her, and sighs. "Alright, well. I hate that I'm saying this but - load me up, Dad! I have some reading to do." He smiles, big, proud, and begins setting his daughter up with a fat stack of books on psionic magic, mental discipline, psychic attacks, wards in general, and the weave versus other magical sources. Marwa's smile is closer to a grimace as the pile grows around her.Study Break/Sendoff
Marwa is starting to feel like she can actually wrap her head around the concept of psionic attacks and defenses when movement draws her eyes up. Mika wandering over, looking kind of tired but mostly okay, holding the third volume of Julius' warlock journals. "Hey, feel like a study break? I was gonna try to link up with Shiv and Rose before they head out." Marwa starts to reply, then sees a lightbulb come on behind her dad's eyes. "Oh, that's right," he says, "Your friend Siobhan said I ought to ask you what you did before you took up adventuring." Mika looks surprised, then like he's trying to figure what kind of game Shiv is playing, then he shrugs. "Nothing exciting. I was an RA. Translation and transcription, mostly." Julius Noor, linguist and career academic, looks like he begs to differ on the 'not exciting' nature of this vocation. "Through which school?" "Um." Mika shifts, talking a little faster. "None. Freelance. Hey is it okay if I hang onto this? I'll put it back when I'm done." he indicates the journal he's reading through. "Yes, of course." "Thanks." The reply comes too quick to allow a return to topic. Mika looks at Marwa, his face a question - 'study break?' "Yeah, I'll come with you. Need to say goodbye to the girls. Thanks, Dad!" "Anytime, sweetheart." Julius gives a small farewell-for-now wave as they head out. Finding Shiv doesn't take long - she's not a person who blends in, and the first staff member they bump into points them toward the west lawn, where they find the elf playing fetch with the hound. "Hey girl!" Marwa waves as they approach, "You two headed out soon? Not thinking of leaving without saying goodbye, I hope." "Wouldn't dream of it!" Shiv grins as she tosses the ball to Mika, who doesn't catch it but its fine because Rose picks it up for him. "Abrigado, doce menina," he croons, kneeling to scratch her floppy ears. He glances up at Shiv while he does so. "When's your flight, anyway?" "Erik said someone can give me a ride to the airship dock around three, so I have a bit of time." Shiv's watching him carefully, thinking about their conversation the night before. He seems like he's in a good mood, but he seemed that way the whole time yesterday, too. "Cool. It's what, one-thirty now?" Mika pitches the ball across the yard and smiles as Rose lopes after it, tongue lolling. "Closer to two." Shiv glances at the journal in his other hand. "Whatcha got there?" Marwa looks down. 'Woke up one morning and he had left. I tried to find answers, but... "Research notes. Secondhand but still better than theory. Related with, y'know." Mika taps at his temple a couple times and shrugs. "Not the same, but close enough to be of interest." "Can I have a look when you're done?" She's eyeing up the density; it's a slim book, she can probably skim it quickly. "It's the third of eight, actually." "Oh." "I could send you my notes, though." "Your Plaintext notes," Shiv counters, immediately. "Ugh fine, lazybones." "I'm allowed to be lazy, I'm on vacation! For now, anyway." "You're going back to the Library when you land?" Marwa ventures. "Yep, no rest for the wicked! Got me a practicum to finish up." Their talk returns to easier topics, with Siobhan sharing stories of her work in the Library, where she mostly looks after the AFTERLIFE / BEFORE DEATH sections. Her stories of negotiating the release of a waitlisted volume with the bookwyrm's kobold minions, weathering a paperstorm by speed-clearing an alcove of oversized Giant Biographies, and having to cut through the lower levels when a Gelatinous Cube blocked the bottleneck route back to the gatehouse have Marwa spellbound and Mika nostalgic. But eventually, someone comes looking for Siobhan because her ride is here. Marwa pulls Siobhan in for a happily reciprocated hug hug. "Thank you so much for coming, and for bringing Rose, you're awesome." "Anytime, and yes, correct." Siobhan grins as she's released, fishing in her trouser pocket for Rose's leash, but Mika is still lingering over that goodbye. "Be good on the ship, meu doce menina," he says, holding her head between his hands. "What's that?" Marwa asks, as much to distract him from his reluctance to let the hound go as from curiosity. "Huh? Oh, 'doce menina'?'" He looks only mildly embarrassed, "Um, it means 'sweet girl.' Honestly it's like her second name, she responds to it better than 'Rose' sometimes." She smiles, tries it out. "Doce menina." Rose looks at her, barks once. Marwa grins. Mika smiles, standing up reluctantly as Shiv kneels to put her collar and lead on. "Thanks again, Shiv. Really." She waves it off, "You can pay me back by actually writing sometimes." "I will." "Promise!" "Promise." "You too, hot stuff," Shiv adds, turning to Marwa as she clips the leash in place. "I want to hear all about your badass adventures." "Oh! Sure." Marwa grins. He and Marwa both wave as Mirage marches off to meet her ride, Rose trotting happily at her heels.Cri's Inquiry
Later that day, Cri is coasting on the everpresent Aurian breezes when she sees the party warlock alone, reading in a solarium that allows the sun while sheltering from the winds. She cuts her altitude, landing on the lawn nearby and letting herself in the glass door. "Mika. Hi!" Mika glances up, his eyes whiter than her mountain home in December, but his pupils fade back in as he recognizes her. He closes the notebook and straightens his back. "Hey." "What're you reading?" He glances down at it. It's a paper notebook with no title, other than a handwritten '3/8' on the cover. "Research notes. What're you up to?" But Cri can clock a worried tension around the corners of his eyes. Whatever the notes are on, they're not sitting well. "Everything and nothing," she answers, offering a little enigmatic smile Mika returns a look of amused resignation, as if he should've expected something cryptic like that. Cri is very used to these kinds of looks, and privately notes that this one has no room to criticize others on being opaque. But speaking of his reticence, she's been meaning to follow up with him on something. "Mika. Last night, during the party. You seemed...troubled. I just came to see if you're alright, if something had happened, if you want to talk. Although you don't have to, of course." "I did? When?" His expression looks earnestly clueless. She frowns. "I can't remember exactly the time, but...you left the ballroom and looked behind you like you were afraid. Perhaps I was seeing things." "You better not be, that's my thing." A self-deprecating half-smile. Then he shrugs. "I don't know, Cri, it was kind of a crazy night. And I'm not great at taking time off to start with. I probably did look a little stressed at some point. Ended on a good note, though." His gaze drifts to the side. He's fidgeting with the notebook, running a thumb along the pages at the corner. Organizing something in his mind, or making a decision. She waits, open. "Hey Cri have you ever-" he hesitates, chewing his inner lip a moment. "Have you ever had to correct... not a misconception, but. Have you ever been saying something's true for a long time, and then realized it wasn't, or changed your mind, and had to update other people about it?" From his face, he knows he's being less than eloquent. Cri pauses for a long moment. Thinking, reflecting. "Are you afraid of what others will think? Now that you've changed your mind?" Mika's turn to be slow. "Not exactly." He frowns at the closed book again. "I wouldn't say it's a matter of fearing negative judgement, so much as a case that, if one change becomes known, it's likely to prompt questions about other stuff, and I think I'd rather not answer those questions until I can gauge reactions to the first thing." "I see. Is this change of mind important to you?" He nods. "In the same way that we are connected in a web, Mika, we are all water as well. Ice one minute, steam the next." He nods, following so far "Change is a good thing. And to resolve one thing in your mind does not mean you must have everything else figured out. To expect that of anyone is unrealistic. We are water, constantly shifting from one state to the next, and that is okay. "I cannot tell you what to say to people who have questions. But maybe answering that you are a work in progress, that there are some things you're still figuring out, as we all are, will be enough." He nods, frowns, looks down, kind of laughs quietly. "You got a way of getting to the bottom of things, don't you?" He sighs, shakes his head. "I guess it's not that I don't know. I'm just um idioto menino who doesn't want to ask a question unless I know the answer's 'yes'." He drags his hands over his face so that it ends with him kind of pressing into steepled hands. "You'd think after everything I'd have bigger concerns." 'Some things are easier to see from different vantage points. I'm water too, and there are things I can't see clearly because they are still changing. Maybe someday I will, but I'm content to wait. Have courage. You are a good man, Mika, and I am glad to know you." He takes a big breath and lets it out. "Thanks, Cri. Back at you." Cri smiles, recognizing an exhausted topic. "Have you spoken with Lydia today? I heard her mentioning your name earlier, something about having you try a new dish the chef made for you." Mika's facial expression is one of distressed disbelief, as if to say 'again?' "Hey Cri you know how to change form, do you know any spell to make a dude look less skin-an-bones overnight? Even just an illusion? Because I swear to god if it gets people to stop following me around with food I'll let you cast it." She smiles. "Is the food not to your liking?" "Food's fine," he gets up, pocketing the notebook. He knows better than to no-show when the lady of the house calls. "It's just - I know I look like shit without being reminded all the time, you know? I'm working on it. I know they don't mean it like that, it's just frustrating. Shit takes time, you know?" "Of course it does. I get the sense that these people see you not as a project, or something to 'fix', but that this is simply how they communicate that they care. I do not think Lydia would be offended if you told her you weren't hungry, you know." "Offended, no. Would she believe me though?" he waves a 'maybe-maybe-not' hand in the air. "It's fine right now anyway. I can eat and read at the same time. Multitasker." "I've known you to be a very persuasive speaker, Mika. But each of us must navigate the Noor household in our own way, I suppose. For now, I'm off to visit the grove, I think. I do love listening in on those fruit trees' afternoon gossip sessions." "Tell them I say hi." he waves as she heads off to the garden, and makes his way to the kitchen.Rolling in the Thunder
Later that week, in the dead of night, there's a thunderstorm. Marwa is awake, listening to the thunder roll outside, when Lydia appears on her balcony, eyes shining. Marwa is already up and floating toward the door before her mother has even opened it, grinning wide. It's been forever since they did this. They're giggling as they float across the property and over the edge. Marwa didn't bring her glider - she doesn't need it. They freefall through the night sky, laughing as the wind of their descent pulls tears from their eyes. They cut their own falls in a sea of rolling thunder. Lydia rolls to one side, her outstretched hand crackles as electricity arcs toward it, gathering into a white-bright sphere. She throws it underhand, and Marwa catches it, tossing it from hand to hand, laughing before throwing it into the air where it bursts into a clap of sheet lightning that echoes through the cloud. She cackles, throws her head back in delight. Rain falls in her mouth, and she shakes her head to feel it spraying off her hair. A steadiness at her side precedes Lydia taking her hand, the djinni's eyes creased in a smile. Marwa grabs on tight, and the two take off. Corkscrew-flying, diving and wheeling through the storm, letting the thunder reverberate through them, following its waves and letting its lightning tow them from cloud to cloud. Marwa closes her eyes. The storm cannot hurt her. She's part of it, and it's part of her. Their flight feels like a dance, a conversation with the air itself. When the storm breaks, they land the cloudtop, stretched on their backs. Out of breath, but happy, looking up at the clear sky above, listening to the rain falling below. "Your Baba says you have learned some new ways of using your powers." Marwa is nodding, grinning. "Yes!" "Show me." Marwa leaps to her feet, focuses, feeling the air; the lightness within herself. She separates into mist, mingles with the cloud, tastes its static in every one of her vaporous atoms. When she coalesces a few paces away, her mother his beaming. "When did you learn this?" Marwa tells her. Her mother laughs when she relates deploying the same trick to get the drop on baba in blades training. acting as much as relating the story of how she flowed through the prison bars to get to Cobbles, leaving her more corporeal pursuers roadblocked. Lydia smiles. "The cloud and mist are part of you, habibi," she says, rising to stand, herself. She holds out a hand, palm downward, over the stormcloud they're on; gathering its electricity in her palm. She closes her fist around it, and it crackles through her hand and up her arm, flashes in her eyes. "But so is the lightning." Marwa's eyes become saucers. "Just as you can harness the air and mists within yourself to take their shape," Lydia continues, the corners of her eyes compressing with pride as her daughter nods a little too fast, "So can you travel as lightning, following the storm in you from point to point." "Show me!" "Lightning is willful, powerful," Lydia cautions. "It can burn. Do not land on kindling. Unless it is raining." Marwa laughs, giddy, but is still nodding. "I'll be careful with it mama, promise!" The lesson is simple. Lydia has always made accessing her elemental powers feel as natural as breathing. Marwa zaps from cloud to cloud, charging them in flashes as they arc through the sky. Each time she reforms, she's laughing, until her face hurts, until her energy is spent, until she is too tired to even float. Lydia carries her home, eases her balcony door open the way she did when Marwa was young, and wore herself out, or broke her glider. Lays her down in her bed. She falls asleep to the sound of her mother's lullaby.
Report Date
07 Apr 2025
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