Emerald Spire 12.1 - Re

Kormon sat quietly, arms folded, brow furrowed, as he considered what Amara had told him. He had signed the papers she had jotted out, and had agreed to help her, but the task seemed to weigh on his mind. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, he stood up, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” 
“Good-goodnight!” Amara stuttered. “Thank you again!” He gave her a wave of acknowledgement before turning and heading up the stairs to his room. She sighed and began to put away her things, before glancing up and noticing that Ismail was still sitting silently across from her. “Th-thank you too,” she added, somewhat embarrassed.
“Mhmm,” he said. The illusion that covered him made him look human: a man younger than her, sallow-looking and thin, with burning blue eyes the colour of the foxfire that danced in his sockets. However, the illusion wasn’t very strong, and without any face under it to give it motion, he lacked any expression other than the motion of his lips when he spoke, giving him the same flat, inscrutable demeanour he had as a skeleton. 
“I...I can pay you too,” she offered. “I just, you’d have to sign something like Kormon, and I don’t know if…”
“That’s fine,” he said, cutting her off. “I don’t need much money.”
“I...I guess not…” she trailed off uncomfortably. After a pause, she cleared her throat, “...You...you said there was a sign?”
“The centipede,” he said, his tone of voice almost thoughtful. “It shouldn’t have been that deep underground. It was obviously sent by Fierna, to me, for a reason. She didn’t send it until after I met the lot of you, and went back to the spire. She could have sent it when I was trapped in the spider den, but she didn’t. Not until after. So, it must be a sign of something. But, whether it’s a sign that I’m supposed to stay with one or all of you, or whether it’s to keep exploring the spire, I don’t know. So, if you’re going there, I’ll stay with you and hedge my bets.”
“That...makes sense,” she said, agreeing. She paused and looked under the table, glancing around the nearby floor. “...Where is it…?” she asked, subtly curling up with the fear of one who might be touched by something unwanted.
“In the room I rented,” he replied. “He was making people uncomfortable, and I don’t think I have to worry about anyone trying to kill him if he’s in a locked room and I’m sitting downstairs.”
“Ah,” she said, twiddling her hands. “That’s...kind of sad. I guess. I mean...it’s...not a bad bug. But I...guess I see why you’d worry about that.” He didn’t reply, and she went back to twiddling her fingers. After a moment, she seemed to realize something, and she cleared her throat quietly once more, “I didn’t...didn’t really thank you, for earlier.” He stared at her, unblinking, so she continued, “With the shark robot. It knocked me out, and I would have drowned, if you hadn’t pulled me out. So...thank you. A lot.” He didn’t respond, so she added, a touch downcast, “I really do mean it…”
“...Well, that’s what clerics are supposed to do, right?” he said, his words drawing her attention up from the tabletop. His voice had a strange note to it: an off-handedness that seemed forced. “That’s why adventurers bring clerics around: to keep them alive. I’m not preparing all these healing spells for no reason. If I’m working with you, I’m not going to just let any of you die if I can help it.” It was the voice of someone not expecting to be thanked.
“I...guess so…” she said. She pursed her lips, considering his sentiment before adding, “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be grateful though. I probably would have died there. And that elemental from before, it nearly killed Marin. I don’t know where we’d be if we didn’t have someone healing us. So, thank you.” 
He looked blankly at her for a moment before nodding, “You’re...welcome.” She smiled.
The pair sat silently for another minute before something moved around the edge of Ismail’s long sleeve. The scorpion he carried peeked its head out, resting on Ismail’s wrist. His gaze moved down towards it, and the insect made small chittering sounds up towards him as he passively stared. Suddenly, Amara blurted out, “Can you feel it?” Ismail’s gaze flicked to her, and her hand whipped to her mouth as she realized she had spoken aloud. Ismail continued to stare at her, expressionless. She faltered under his gaze, looking back and forth nervously, before finally repeating, much more quietly, “Can...can you feel...things? I...just wondered…” He continued to stare at her, his lack of expression doing nothing to inform Amara of his feelings. After a pause that felt like it lasted years, she slouched down under the table, “Sorry! I’m sorry. Sorry.”
“...I can.” His reply caused her to flinch. 
She swallowed hard and muttered, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t...shouldn’t ask, it’s rude, I’m sure it’s rude…”
Ismail looked away from her, regarding his other hand, covered by the illusion. “It’s a fair question. It’s not like I have skin…”
“I’m sorry for prying…” she mumbled one more time.
“It’s fine. I don’t care,” was his blunt reply, as he turned his attention back to the scorpion.
“How…?” she blurted, before clamping her mouth shut. 
He regarded her blankly for an awkward few seconds. Suddenly, he made a scoffing sound, “Heh. How what?”
“I’m sorry!” she squeaked.
“Go on,” he said, a note of humour in his voice, “Ask the question. Or else we’re both going to be wondering.” 
She wrung her hands, embarrassed. “How...mmnh…” She shuddered slightly, and spat out quickly, “How do you let them crawl all over you if you can feel it they’re so creepy and it’s touching you with all its legs and eeeeh…” She shook out her hands, as though shaking off something. 
Quietly at first, but quickly growing in strength, Ismail laughed. “Heh heh! You’re afraid of bugs and spiders?” His voice held a grin that his face didn’t match, “Are you afraid of snakes too?”
She rubbed at her arms, “They’re...I don’t like them! I don’t like them when they’re big. Or near me.”
Ismail continued to chuckle as he spoke, “Letting them touch me isn’t weird. They’re animals. Perfectly harmless.” He paused and gave a conceding shrug, “...if you’re not an idiot about it, I guess. But that’s like every other animal too. Why are you afraid of them touching you? You let other animals touch you, I bet.”
She frowned. “...Bugs are gross,” she said, though her voice belayed that even she knew how lame of an answer that was.
He laughed again, “Then you haven’t been trying hard enough.” He held out his arm, twisting his palm upwards as the scorpion, with its green markings, crawled out to sit on his hand as he explained, “They’re ‘gross’ because you don’t know them very well, and you probably think they’ll hurt you.” He held out his hand, “Here. She won’t bite.”
Amara looked at the scorpion with measures of fear and disgust. She tried to swallow her obvious distrust, saying, “...You can’t know that.”
“Sure I can,” he chuckled. “She’s my familiar.” The arachnid raised one of its claws in a sort of greeting.
Amara blinked, frowning slightly at Ismail, but his face gave her no indication as to the truth of his claims. She turned to look more closely at the arachnid, and it sat patiently in Ismail’s palm as Amara scrutinized it. Eventually, she asked, “...I was told you couldn’t make insect familiars. How did you do the ritual?”
He shrugged, “I didn’t do anything. Fierna sent her to me.”
“Oh,” she said simply. She had heard of that, of course: wizards bound their familiars to them through a measured ritual after choosing the animal they wanted, but some people, through their own natural affinities it was supposed, spontaneously bound to a partner creature. If he wanted to presume it was the work of his goddess, she wasn’t about to argue with him: he was a cleric after all, and she couldn’t prove it wasn’t the work of the divine. Her mind moved to a different topic, “But...insects don’t live very long, do they? How old is she?” She caught herself before asking the corollary question of how old he was, deciding that was probably too personal.
He took a moment to reply, “I can’t say I really know. I don’t know how old she was when I met her, and I don’t know how long it’s been since I did.” He stared straight ahead as he added, “I don’t keep track of time. Seems pointless, and I spend a lot of time in caves, so it’s hard to tell.”
“Oh,” she said, tone a bit sad, still looking at the creature. 
“Scorpions live for a few years, usually,” he added, almost conversationally.
Her response was the same, “Oh,” but this time with the tone of someone learning an interesting fact.
“...She isn’t my first, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking up at him before turning and blushing with embarrassment. Familiars were more than pets: they were bonded to the wizard’s soul, and shared their emotions, strengths, and even thoughts if their bond was strong enough. Animals that became familiars gained insight beyond anything their brethren could possess, as well as some magical affinities and greatly increased lifespans: those whose species normally live for a decade or two would suddenly live forty or fifty years, usually almost as long as their partners. Shorter-lived creatures still died sooner, and the loss of a familiar was often devastating to their partner; arachnids and mice live such short lives that wizards were warned not to use them, to spare them early grief. Amara couldn’t imagine losing Yarrin, her mourning dove partner, and she looked at the scorpion with pity. “Oh…”
A touch of melancholy tinged his voice as he explained, “She’s the third. Mother sent her when...her predecessor passed away. Like the one before.”
“Mother?” Amara asked, hoping to change the topic to something less sad. 
“Fierna, the mother of monsters,” he said with a chuckle, as though the question was somewhat dumb.
She considered him with a raised eyebrow, “You call yourself a monster?”
“Well, I’m no human,” was his response. 
Himming at that, she turned her attention back to the insect, still proffered by his outstretched hand. She pursed her lips, still obviously disquieted by its presence, but she inclined her head politely, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry I didn’t know about you before.” She frowned, “Well, I mean, I knew you were there, I guess, I saw you, but I didn’t really know about you.” The scorpion raised up one of its claws, looking almost as though it was waving at her. Amara couldn’t help but give a small grin at this. “Here, you haven’t been properly introduced to my familiar,” she said, looking over her shoulder. The dove was perched a short distance away, on a nearby window sill. She gestured, “Yarrin, come over here.” The bird was obviously recalcitrant, puffing up in displeasure. It cooed, and she hissed, “Come on! Don’t be that way.”
Ismail seemed unperturbed, saying lightly, “There aren’t many children of Yoma who like the company of Fierna’s offspring.”
“Come here!” she insisted, and the begrudging dove flew across the gap to land on the table beside her, keeping his distance from the undead. Picking him up, Amara nodded down towards him, “This is Yarrin.” He looked suspiciously at the man across from him, feathers puffed up. Amara staunchly ignored his attitude, turning back towards the scorpion. “What’s her name?”
“Re,” he said simply.
“Ray,” she repeated consideringly. “Like, the sun?”
Without expression, he replied, “Heh, no. Like the song.” Amara raised an eyebrow, confused, so he explained, “You know. Do, re, mi…? I named the first one Melody. When she passed away, another one came a few days later. When she came, I...guessed that Fierna would keep sending me familiars, if I keep my faith. So I named her ‘Do’.” He held his hand up a bit higher in a gesture, “‘Re’.” 
“Oh! Oh, I get it,” Amara nodded. “Those are pretty names,” she said, a reserved tone in her voice.
“What?” he pressed with a touch of sarcasm. “Too pretty for bugs?”
She replied sharply, “No! No, I wasn’t thinking that. I just...wouldn’t tie scorpions to music, is all. They aren’t musical bugs.” She considered that for a moment, muttering, “Crickets? Crickets I could see. ...Oh, and those ones in the summer, the loud ones…”
Re had turned around and was looking up at Ismail, whose gaze had turned down towards her. He stared at her inscrutably as Amara openly pondered the name of the insect that eluded her. Eventually, he muttered, “Cicadas.” 
He shook his head slightly, seeming to come out of a riviere, as Amara nodded, “Yeah! That’s the one!”
Before she could switch the topic back, Ismail interrupted her, holding out his hand further. Yarrin took off in a flutter of feathers at the motion, returning to the window where he continued to stare at his master with concern. “Here. Hold her,” he said. Amara blanched, recoiling slightly, but he urged, “You’re afraid of spiders and insects and things for no reason. So here. She won’t hurt you.” He scoffed slightly, “But we’ll both be very upset if you throw her across the room, so don’t hurt her.”
“No, no, really, it’s ok,” she stuttered, sliding her chair back a few inches. 
Ismail sat motionless for a few long seconds. Finally, he said simply, “...Alright.” He drew his hand back towards himself, Re climbing over onto the back of his hand as he flipped it over, resting his elbow on the table. He looked at the scorpion as it made its small clicking noises, and Amara knew that they must be talking about something. The private matters of people and their familiars was hardly her business, but it seemed to her that there was something morose in his bearing, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit badly. 
She regarded them quietly for a moment before inhaling sharply. Clenching her lips tightly, she scrunched her eyes shut, gave a sharp exhale through her nose and stuck out her hand, palm up. It seemed to take him a second to realize what she was doing, before he started to chuckle quietly. Reaching out, he offered Re, who very tentatively inched onto Amara’s hand. The woman obviously tried to keep from flinching at the touch, biting her lip as Re settled into her palm, curling up her legs and tail. Opening up her eye a slit, she saw the arachnid bundled up into an inoffensive ball in her hand. Taking long breaths, she opened up her eyes fully, trying to keep from reflexively panicking. Re slowly and gently moved out one of her claws and patted Amara’s hand comfortingly, like someone offering a pat on the shoulder. The anthropomorphic behaviour coming from the scorpion, though very common in familiars, was nonetheless disarmingly cute, and Amara couldn’t help but grin nervously. “Don’t...don’t move, please…” she asked quietly, and in response Re curled herself up tighter. Slowly, Amara brought the scorpion up closer towards her, looking inquisitively, her curiosity slowly outweighing her fears. After a silent moment of scrutiny, she raised her other hand and asked quietly, “...May I?” The scorpion bundled itself up, seeming placid, so Amara gingerly took her other hand and drew her finger ever-so-carefully along the arachnid’s back, stroking it lightly. Amara gave a single noise of discovery, before closing her eyes and holding her hand back out quickly, starting to panic, “Ok, that’s enough that’s enough that’s enough.” Re hopped immediately back to Ismail’s hand; as soon as she left, Amara wrung her hand out and rubbed it against her leg, trying to shake out the repressed panic. 
“Not bad,” Ismail said. “See?”
Amara shuddered, “Ick ick ick…” Giving her head one more shake, she turned to look at Re again. “...Sorry.” The scorpion made a waving motion with her claw, brushing away the concern before raising it in a friendly sort of gesture. Amara couldn’t help but grin again. Standing up, she said, “Well, I don’t know if you care at all, but after days of sleeping on the ground I am sooo excited for a bed. I’m soooo tired. I’m going to sleep until noon tomorrow, I don’t even care.” She smiled, “Goodnight, both of you. Thank you so much, again.”
“It’s...it’s fine,” Ismail said.
She smiled, “See you tomorrow.” Turning over her shoulder, she added, “Come on, Yarrin.” The dove flew over and lit on her shoulder as she walked away towards her room. Ismail looked at Re for another long moment before she crawled back into his sleeve. As she did, he stood up and left himself, retiring upstairs as the other three had done.
Category:Emerald Spire