Onboard the Beauty
55 Spring 218, later in the evening
Astarael
After Sav killed their prisoner, and the heated discussion that followed, Astarael had returned to the rigging above, busying herself in her newfound work. It was nice to have a task to perform - something complex that required her thought, but was rapidly becoming second nature to her. She worked in tandem with another crewmate to ensure the sails were always correctly positioned for the changing wind, keeping the boat moving downriver at a steady pace.
As the day drew to a close, and the others were gathering for some food, Astarael pours ale into two mugs, and heads below in search of the newly named Sylas. She finds him quietly sitting near a porthole, his face showing that he is deep in thought. She sets the extra mug before him, and clears her throat.
“Thought you might enjoy a drink. Mind if I sit with you?”
Sylas
Among the cacophony of unorganized memories that Sylas would never call his own, there was one that had heard somewhere that meditation could be used to calm the mind and assemble one’s thoughts if they were flustered. The memory belonged to Agatha or Elias, perhaps even Raeford. Regardless of whose memory it belonged to, the idea was proving to be a crock of shit.
The two days that had passed since his ‘awakening’, as he’d been referring to it, had proved to be disappointing in relation to all of memories settling. Certainly the headaches and his own thoughts had clarified, but there was still no means of classifying or codifying the disparate ideas that remained. And so Sylas had set out to try to meditate, and attempt to focus on the memories of the Inquisitor whose name he had stolen for himself. Despite his best efforts, setting himself up away from all the others below deck, near a porthole, the practice of introspection was failing. Whether that failure was a matter of the setting he found himself in or his own impatience was best left for later thoughts.
Just as he was preparing to complete his rumination for the day, a blurred visage of Astarael rounded the corner. Sylas hadn’t realized he had used this new ability during his meditation; as it was now, even with his eyes closed, he could see or detect a person from some distance away. A fascinating idea for sure, and one that he would relish the opportunity to study later.
As Astarael approached, she held out a hand, clearing her throat and offered him a drink. Before she could complete her sentence, Sylas has opened his eyes and was already reaching up to accept the mug. “Yes, gods please!” With his other hand, he gestured to a crate directly across from himself for Astarael to sit and he took a long gulp of the drink. “Sorry, just desperate for some company I suppose. I was attempting to meditate and, as it turns out, it’s dreadfully boring!”
He pauses before taking another sip, “Remind me, this body, Bax, wasn’t much a drinker correct? I think I recall Tarth having learned that lesson the hard way.”
Astarael
Astarael raises an eyebrow and hands him the mug, before taking a seat. She smirks at the question about Bax’s former drinking habits, or lack thereof.
“It was my understanding that he had never had a drink before. I think it was mentioned that he was holding out for a special occasion. So I’m sure Tarth had a hell of a time.”
She takes a sip out of her own mug, and leans back, taking in the form before her now, noting his posture and body language.
“I’m happy to provide some company.” She gains a more serious look. “I must admit, I did not get to speak to Bax as much as I would have liked, when I had the chance. But I regarded him as a good friend, and someone I respected very much.
As such, I’d like to get to know you, whomever you may be, a bit better too. If you’re going to stick around and help us out, it would be best for us to form a bond of trust, wouldn’t you agree?”
Sylas
Sylas takes a moment to observe his drinking partner inspecting him. Dissecting her phrasing, searching for veiled threats; it would be understandable that she’d be somewhat wary of him. He is unable to detect any immediate malice in her words however; at least for the time being, her interest seems genuine. She may be the first person to directly address the topic of his position within the group since his awakening.
He chuckles at her wording regardless, taking a quick swig from his mug and turns to look out the porthole. Beyond the ship, he watches the riverside drift by, orchestrated by the sound of water slapping against the hull. Another moment passes before he turns back to Astarael with a cocked eyebrow, and raises up his mug.
“Sure, I’ll cheers to that. I’ll answer whatever I can, as best I can. Though I hope you’ll humor me in kind, and allow me to make some inquiries of my own. But please, you begin.”
Astarael
Astarael nods in agreement to Sylas’s request. “You said you were trying to meditate. Most do so to calm the mind. Is that what you intended?”
Sylas
“Ha, if only! No, as much as I’d hoped that all these,” he replies, vaguely gesturing toward his head, “would’ve sorted themselves on their own, they haven’t. So I’ve settled to tackle the problem myself. Starting specifically with the memories of the Inquisitor.”
He stares into his mug, tapping it with his index finger, pondering whether to proceed with his thoughts. “It is…” and he pauses briefly before a smirk crosses his face.
“It’s nothing that I won’t be able to figure out in due time! I don’t imagine meditation will pan out for me though; I seem to lack the patience for it. Perhaps I’m a diligent note taker, so I’ll be giving that a shot next.
“I don’t suppose you or any of the others are one’s for meditation are you? None of you quite seem the type. Perhaps the halfling…”
Astarael
Astarael smiles. “Eh, don’t be so quick to judge. You of all people should know not everyone may be what they initially seem.”
She lets out a small laugh.
“I’m not sure if it counts as meditation, but when I was a young girl my aunt taught me a technique to calm my mind. I focus on a time and place when I had a good, tranquil moment, and picture myself there. I grew up by the sea, and for a long time I pictured myself standing back on the shore. I would focus on remembering the sound of the waves, the smell of the salt in the air, and the feeling of the breeze on my face. It always helps, when I feel overwhelmed. I don’t know if you have any good memories like that which you can use, but I’m sure you can figure something out.”
She takes a sip of ale.
“Sav did seem very interested in what you wrote the other day. We should definitely see about getting you a journal of your own. Perhaps in the next port town.
So, rather than switching who is in control of your body, now you are a single mind, with potential access to many memories? It’s very interesting to me that it was the death of the Inquisitor Sylas that triggered a change in you. Do you suppose it was his own access to magic that did something?”
Sylas
Taking another swig of the ale, Sylas excitedly pointed and snapped with his other hand at Astarael. When he finishes, he bends forward and exhales heavily. “Sorry, sorry, I got excited at your initial question.
“I vaguely answered a similar question the evening I first met you all, but it’s due some clarification. So to be clear, I, Sylas Remnant, am the only soul within this body,” he says, waving his free hand in front of his body.
“I technically have access to the memories of all the individuals that were absorbed previously. But both the access, and the memories themselves, are limited in their capacity for very different reasons.” Sylas grimaces, placing his mug down, and rubs his temples as he continues, “It is…a complicated matter to put into words. I could try to explain it if you like, but it would take time. And I’m certain that you have other questions you would like answered in a timely manner.”
He moves his hands from rubbing his temples to quickly wiping his face off. A hand moves to retrieve the mug, and he takes another drink. “Apologies, I’m still dealing with headaches. They’re getting better, slow as it may be…
“Regarding your second question about the Inquisitor and his relation to my ‘awakening’. While I’m not fully certain, I don’t believe he had access to magic of his own. His death certainly had an affect to my changing; how his death was related is something I’m still theorizing. It could be that he did have some kind of latent magical ability that was the catalyst, but as I said, I doubt that. I imagine it instead has something to do with the magic that may have altered this body. Something with removing the host soul possibly? Or it could have something to do with the number of souls that had been absorbed…? Unfortunately, I can only offer vague theories currently. Though I will provide you all a proper explanation once I can begin ruling out possibilities.”
Astarael
Astarael leans forward to rest her elbow on her knee, placing her chin in her hand.
“Hmm. Interesting. I’m sorry to hear of the headaches. When we get to the next port, I’ll see if we can buy Vanja some new medical supplies. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and locate some of that willow bark she liked to use for pain. I’ve heard money is short with some of the group after Ethan used most of it to gamble for use of this ship, but I have some stashed away for necessary purchases.”
She grins now, and raises her mug. “Like beer.”
“Also curious that you don’t believe the Inquisitor had his own magic. I was under the impression they all did. Perhaps there was something else about him that was special. The Baroness does not put people in positions of power if they are not exceptional in some way, or otherwise worthy in her eyes. I hope you are indeed able to unravel some of his memories. I expect that they will prove to be very illuminating, for one reason or another. If I can be of any help, please do let me know.”
She ponders something for a moment, then says, “I’ve never puzzled out the origins of my own magic, but the wind itself seems to carry many voices to me. I once thought everyone could hear it, but it would seem that no one else can…no one living, anyways. Sometimes they are overwhelming, so many things spoken all at once, and that’s why that little meditation thing I do helps me. Perhaps it will help you as well.
So, this brings me to my most important query- why stay with us? Not that I think any of us would want you to leave, myself included. Quite the opposite. But what’s your motivation for sticking around?”
Sylas
“I can’t say for certain what made this Inquisitor so special. It could be as simple as his own intellect that set him apart from others. I may be able to learn more once I’m able to sort his memories…”
Sylas leans back, allowing his head to rest against the wall as he stares into the ceiling, thinking on Astarael’s last question.
“It’s not exactly an eloquent answer. And one that I doubt you’ll find wholly satisfying. But the answer I have for you currently is a simple one.” His gaze returns to Astarael, a smirk on his face, seemingly amused at the response he’s prepared to give.
“It’s curiosity. That’s it.” Sylas leans forward to inspect the young woman’s reaction to his reply as he continues. “I want to see what trouble you’ll eventually find yourselves in, and in turn, how you’ll get yourselves out of it.
“You all. Every. Single. One of you. You all are an inherently fascinating group of individuals, who have somehow miraculously wound up together. Surviving battle after battle with monsters and soldiers alike, leaving more dead bodies in your wake than some of the kingdom’s finest warriors. You each carry your own tragic backstory and have access to magic, a thing once thought special and forgotten, but you all treat as mundane and ordinary. On top of that, you have me, who absorbed the soul of an Inquisitor who had traveled with the family of some of the members of this very group years ago. I don’t know if fate is a concept I believe in, but the coincidences that had to line up for this group to find itself here, with me arriving shortly after, are far too interesting for me to simply ignore…”
He leans back once more, having finished his explanation. “Also I’m fairly certain that this face is on wanted posters throughout the entire kingdom. Quite frankly, I’d be a fool to leave now and think I could survive for very long on my own. So here I am,” he finishes, taking a satisfied sip of ale.
After a brief pause while Astarael absorbs his response, Sylas continues, “Would you allow me a question? I can understand why you would all travel together. But what do you believe is the state of this group? It seems to me that none of you mesh very well. Or in some cases you mesh too well.
“You and the physician don’t appear to get along very well. It was difficult to not overhear your dressing-down of her earlier. And on the other hand, you have the tall brooding one who was willing to beat a man to death who wasn’t immediately responsible for the physician’s imprisonment. But she was angry at him, so I suppose it was his time to die via one-sided fisticuffs.”
Astarael
Astarael raises an eyebrow and sips on her beer thoughtfully as Sylas says that his reason for staying is curiosity, but she chokes and sputters on it a bit at the mention of Vanja and Roux.
“Curiosity, huh? Well, I can’t argue with that. It does seem to be a miracle that we’ve made it this far, and it will take far more good luck to get our missing friend back. And you’re right enough about the wanted posters. I’d avoid showing your face publicly, if you can.”
Her face grows much more serious now.
“It’s also true, there has been some…group conflict. Mostly that we all have so many ideas, and want to be involved in things. Vanja in particular has been a sore spot for me, because I feel like no matter how much I’ve tried to impress certain facts about the danger of our lives upon her, she never took it seriously. She always laughs things off, even horrible things. I’m very troubled by what she went through when she was captured, and the lasting repercussions it will have for all of us, but especially her.
We’ve been through so much loss lately, and with being on the run, it’s been hard to find time to really deal with it. I think it’s driven us all apart a bit. But we need each other to make it through. Perhaps that man was destined to become a target for all of the anger and pain that we haven’t been able to deal with yet.
It’s probably better that Sav put him out of his misery when she did. I wish I’d had the opportunity to verify some of his information first, but what’s done is done. At least no one insisted on setting him free.
…Wait, what do you mean by meshing too well?”
Sylas
Sylas scratches at his chin, cocking an eyebrow in Astarael’s direction. “Ah, sorry about that. I meant that some members of this group have expressed affection for others, or at the very least, have indicated as such through subtle gestures that not even they may have realized. Specifically, I am referring to your friends Vanja and Roux. Now that’s a power couple right there; one to break bones and the other to heal them. Now I will admit this is purely conjecture on a brief interaction I witnessed between the two, but I like to think I have a decent read on people.”
He takes one more swig of his ale, placing the mug down with a hardy thud. “My point being, interpersonal relationships can be tricky business in a tight knit group such as this. I won’t say anything about anyone, and I certainly won’t stand in anyone’s way of pursuing romance, regardless of how ill-advised I believe it to be. Just some unwarranted advice I wanted to offer.”
Awkwardly tapping at his now empty mug, Sylas considers the other questions he had, when a sharp pain forces him to grip the side of his head. “Damn headaches… Astarael, could we pick this up another time? I wish to continue, but I wish to be rid of these headaches even more so. I hope that if I can uncover the Inquisitor’s memories, the pain will cease. Or at the very least become less frequent…
“Based on your recommendation, I will attempt to meditate further. Though I make no promises that I’ll stick with it,” he chuckles. Through the pained grimace, he looks up and smirks at Astarael.
Astarael
Astarael looks distracted for a moment, staring at the bottom of her own empty mug.
“Oh! Right. Of course. Anytime you like.”
She stands and takes his empty mug from him, and says, “I’ll talk to Vanja about locating some willow bark for you. Let me know if any further attempts at meditation prove successful! ” as she heads up the stairs.
Sylas
Watching his drinking partner walk toward the stairs, Sylas opens his mouth to speak up but catches himself, reconsidering his response. He opts to instead offer a brief reply, “Thanks again for the drink,” with a wink.
Astarael moves up the stairs, leaving him alone once more. “Well that was nice. Conversations are nice, I enjoyed that.” Once he is certain Astarael has moved on, he repositions himself and crosses his legs. “Alright Inquisitor,” he says aloud, closing his eyes. “Let’s see if we can’t get you sorted out this time…”
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