[hr][center][color=808B96][color=00AEFF][h2][b]Akaeyla[/b][/h2][/color]Southeastern Mir [b]-[/b] Sculpture Copse, The Fall[/color][/center] [hr] Akaeyla listened to the responses her question elicited, taking in each one. The Spicati, and pilot of the downed aircraft demanded to know how many other creatures were going to come out of The Fall, which in itself was both demanding why she was there and asking how many more creatures would cross his path in one go. The Nekomi seemed to appreciate the joke format she’d posed her question in, earning a brief smile from Akaeyla in return, even as she had to put up with Max speaking practically in her face- something that, were it not for her disposition, might have moved her to inform him she might be blind but not deaf. The boy who looked like a Lutroi approached... he was an interesting one. In as much as Akaeyla often wished she didn’t see quite such a depth of what was real, what was true, in people or things (the very reason she had become a hermit) what she saw in the boy in front of her wasn’t merely interesting but fascinating... because, in the tangled web that presented itself to her sight, there was a great deal that went well back beyond his own lifetime threaded at random through events that certainly were his own experience. He posed, in three short words, a very profound question: [color=ff00f5]“Where am I?"[/color] On the tail of that the Draconi, Xell, announced he was feeling out of sorts and needed to sit down, before commenting on her choice of eyewear. Thanks to her unusual sight, Akaeyla could watch everything around her without turning her head, but she could shift her focus as readily as anyone else. Throughout their brief interaction she’d done the equivalent of glancing at them briefly, rather than keeping a constant gaze upon them, to keep the truths she might see to a minimum. Now though, she focused upon the people before her, deciding to answer the Spicati and Nekomi first, since her answer would kill two birds with one stone. Once that was done, she could handle the rather more difficult question the boy had posed. Taking a breath, and without turning her head, she spoke to the Spicati first. [color=00AEFF]“Maxwell Stone,”[/color] she said, learning the name as she focused more upon him, [Color=00AEFF]“the simple answer to your question is that many more people will come out of these woods, and many more go in. To answer what you want to know though; I’m here simply to confirm as fact something you already guessed: The Red Star pilot survived the crash and is on your trail... and since there was a distinct absence of the handheld firearms pirates often keep to hand in the wreck of the Red Star plane, on your trail and well-armed. You already know why they’re after you. I’ve given you the information I came to give you, I now care not if you linger, or if we never see one another again”[/color]. Having answered Max, she turned her attention to Nikki. [color=00AEFF]“Nikkolaira Wyatt,”[/color] She addressed the Nekomi, [color=00AEFF]“you now know what information is important for the group to know: Max is hunted and, for so long as he remains in your company and you remain in his, so are all of you. I recommend some thought on that, from everyone here”[/color]. She let that answer hang a moment, before making the boy in front of her the focus of her attention- and almost wished she hadn’t. Her sight revealed to her the reality of the boy, and what was before her wasn’t simply a boy at all. He was at once two separate beings, but beings that were together, in the process of becoming a united whole. It was like peering into another universe: An immense vulpine form, made of fires so bright and fierce she was amazed he didn’t set the dry brush around him ablaze stood there with him... or through him... as close as a shadow’s thickness, as distant as another universe. Akaeyla had seen enough of the supernatural thanks to her uncanny sight, to know she was looking at something of a spiritual rather than natural reality. The piercing emerald orbs of its eyes were possessed of keen intelligence and around it, through it... through the boy as well... flowed a myriad of truth, of experiences that had defined them... lifetime upon lifetime’s worth of them. Truths that were joyous, beautiful, even triumphant... and truths so tragic and blood-drenched she wished she had never looked. Taking a small notepad and pencil from a map-pocket as she looked, Akaeyla selected a blank page and began to draw, even as she considered the boy’s question. [color=00AEFF]“Yoyo, Yony, Yonath Syrain, Johan Le Roux,”[/color] she began, speaking the names that belonged to him, before pausing momentarily. How could she answer his question, and give him the answer he wanted? The best solution to her seemed to be by looking at the vast vistas of truth she saw in him- the answer to where he was would come from learning where he had already been. A look at the turbulent cascade of images- many, many lifetime’s worth- that flowed through him, revealed in those truths that seemed most his own star-charts, maps of the heavens... many of them from perspectives vastly different to anything on Mir. There were enough though, a few key stars, recognisable enough to start forming at least a simple version of the answer. Her quick hands continued to sketch, even as she looked deeper into what she saw, wishing she could look away more, the deeper she looked. So many people seemed to have figured prominently in the lives both of the boy- Yonath- and the spirit creature that was bonded, or bonding, with him. Though her vision didn’t allow her to hear all she saw, it allowed her get something like the equivalent of a three dimensional impression of the words- knowing the pitch and tone and cadence. The accent and pronunciation, the patterning and meter of them... the truth of how they were said and what they meant. That, combined with a talent for vocal mimicry she had developed as an amusement on account of her original blindness, enabled her to pick up spoken language quickly. Focusing on truths that featured the incandescent spirit itself, she spoke some words that answered Yonath’s question on a more than superficial level. To the others present, it seemed that the young hermit’s voice changed completely. Thick with an accent alien to their ears, it suddenly contained an assurance and authority that hadn’t been there before, the tone and pitch changing too. It was strong, resonant, no louder than before but with a quality to it that made it seem like whispering thunder- and whispering only because the flesh and blood through which it spoke could never survive the fullness of its unrestrained might. [i][color=FF4500]*“Nenkanak-hosas wa•-'a•lak w'e•y'ik-a-do, noklakno'o,”[/color] [/i]Akaeyla intoned, [i][color=FF4500]“Na•-ya'we hosas-a•deweklakno'o”[/color].[/i] She paused briefly, focusing on Yonath, or through him, as though gazing on distant immensities she alone could see. A man had featured in the history of the spirit-creature and also of Yonath... a vulpine man both wonderful and terrible by turns. Akaeyla’s voice changed again as she mimicked the voice of this man, speaking as he would speak, her voice almost completely taking on a masculine cadence as she did so. [color=FF4500]“You aren’t the only person who’s been stuck a long way from home in a place where your life is at risk,”[/color] she continued, [color=FF4500]“if you don’t learn to defend yourself, [i]hemayan atak silwan”[/i][/color]. Akaeyla shifted her inner focus, seeing an unusually yellow-furred hare that was vitally important to Yonath and the spirit-creature both. She spoke again, her voice changing once more, to mimic his. [color=fff200][i]**“Lay nahl loseer hraeth hyao, Néanéan,”[/i][/color] she announced. Her sight fastened on another truth, one particular to Yonath especially; a gerbil-girl wearing green, who looked older than him by a few years. Her voice changed again, taking on an accent and dialect not entirely dissimilar to the one the others had heard Yonath use, as she spoke again. [i][color=39b54a]***“Wo de ma he ta de feng kuang de wai sheng dou! Just tos an' get on, zef laaitie right?”[/color][/i] she paused momentarily before adding in her own voice, [color=00AEFF]“your brother’s time-piece was correct, but you already know that. Just remember; you’re not as alone here as you think you are”[/color]. With that final piece of advice, Akaeyla finished sketching and handed Yonath the end result. A casual glance seemed to show a loose map of The Fall, with certain landmarks carefully marked and a hodgepodge of scribbles at one point, as though she’d tried to draw several paths at once and ended up making a mess. To Yonath alone though, it would show something else: the mess of scribbles formed the shape of The Barrier, the landmarks the approximate position of worlds on either side. One in particular, far from The Barrier had been marked in Kydane script with three simple words: [i]You are here.[/i] [u] [/u] [i][color=FF4500]*Nenkanak-hosas wa•-'a•lak w'e•y'ik-a-do, noklakno'o Na•-ya'we hosas-a•deweklakno'o[/color]= [/i]You who are the first beginning that is the new end, he said, it is said. You are a new future, he said it is said. In context Akaeyla is saying 'You are at the end and also the beginning- the last of what was, the first of what might be to come'. [i][color=FF4500]#hemayan atak silwan= [/color][/i]One who walks about very much a ghost; 'dead man walking'. In context this would mean 'you are already dead'. [i][color=FFF200]**Lay nahl loseer hraeth hyao, Néanéan=[/color][/i] Lapine proverb plus Yonath's name in Lapine ammounting to 'It can't rain all the time'. [i][color=39b54a]***“Wo de ma he ta de feng kuang de wai sheng dou! Just tos an' get on, zef laaitie right?[/color][/i]= Cirran 'Holy mother of God and all her wacky nephews! Just jerk off and get on with it all right?' Huge thanks to Rattle Rabbit for his help with Cirran, Lapine Kydane, and aiding my attempts at correctly capturing the essence of his characters!