{Skirruk} What will not be
Mar. 5th, 2011 06:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wayfarers_lodgeThe beautiful woman that Woodwing Skirruk would become in the dreadful years of this future smiled distantly at herself as the younger one giggled. There could be no deception between them, as there was no deception within the Self, and the older woman knew why the little girl laughed so.
Davquelyi didn't quite understand what had lit a fire under his student, who he knew he shouldn't think of as his daughter, but something had vaulted her forward into action, making her fingers dance anxiously and her breath come fast. He wasn't sure quite what to make of the report that she and her friends had been into the future, but whatever had happened, it had driven Skirruk into a frenzy, and she dragged him with her relentlessly.
Skirruk reached out to her older self to take her hand, and realised with a start that their hands were the same size. Faroot appeared on the older woman's shoulder, and she stroked him gently, fingers trembling.
"Whare is your fireet?" Said the younger, dreading the answer. The older woman put her hand over her heart and smiled that sad, distant smile.
"He is a part of me now. He became a part of me when it all went wrong."
Skirruk stopped, and turned to face her younger friends so that they could see her clearly- the slight vibration and uncertainty around the edge of her form, the fact that they couldn't tell where her hair stopped and her robes began, and her eyes, which burned entirely with green fire.
"I have become Chaos. There was nowhere else for it to go. So it came into me."
"Let's go again." Skirruk said as she turned her back to the door, eyes focussing on her teacher's hands.
"Skirruk, you've worked hard, and so have I, don't you think we should stop?" Davquelyi asked delicately, not wanting to chide, but she was trembling with the effort of holding back the psychic enervation.
"One more," she insisted, chest rising and falling faster than it should have been, as she raised her hands and rolled back into a defensive stance.
The older Skirruk looked up at each of her friends from the past as they sat down, her face devoid of emotion. Only her younger self saw her fingers wrapped in Faroot's fur, and the shaking that would not go away.
"It is good to see you all again, this one last time. Now there is hope that this, that we will not happen."
"What's going on?" Asked Ruthtaloth, "I mean... what's causing all this?"
"The other planes are gone. Purgatory is gone. The souls of the dead are not returning to the cycle, and the world is dying."
Gauchel swallowed noisily, knuckles white around the hilt of his mace. Bavriymal's jaw dropped open in shock. Even Ruthtaloth's pen stopped moving.
"But... if the other planes are gone..." said Zurashakgau, brow furrowing- she had always been the most practical of them- "Then what happened to the things that were in them?"
"They had to come here. Into vessels. Sekurr became the vessel for the Elemental force of Wood. Bavriymal became the vessel for Magic. It's why you won't see them- they are in hiding. Between you, Ruthtaloth and Gauchel dying in the rebellions, they were all that the forces had left."
"Then you are the vessel of psionic power?" Asked Gauchel finally.
Older Skirruk shook her head, and only her younger self could hear the tears in her voice.
"No. Chaos is a jealous master. It tried to go into Davquelyi. He wasn't ready, wasn't able to accept it. He died, and the psionic force of the world died with him."
"Skirruk, I really don't think-" Davquelyi's protest was cut short as a bolt of fire flew towards him. He swore and jumped sideways, tumbling as he fell, and came to his feet with his mindblades manifested.
"I said ONE MORE!" Skirruk screamed, and the chamber boomed with her shout, pure sonic force blasting into her teacher as he staggered forward. She had always been prone to tantrums, but now, backed by her unpredictable psionic power, they were much more dangerous.
"Woodwing Skirruk, that's ENOUGH!" He shouted, thrusting his mindblade towards her unthinkingly, as the sound battered him. For a moment he blanched, horrified at the thought he had killed his daughter, but somehow, somehow she had dodged around it, flowing like liquid chaos, and sent another lance of energy towards him, this time of ice. His other blade came up instictively, deflecting the ray harmlessly into the wall.
Skirruk raised her hand again- and nothing happened. She shrieked wildly, still moving in impossible ways, and strained to raise the power to fire again. Davquelyi relaxed slightly as she realised she had exhausted herself.
Then, just as he thought the worst was over, the door behind his student opened, and Gauchel looked in, clearly worried at what he had heard. Skirruk didn't even turn to see who it was, but spun on her heel and launched herself at her friend.
"Ingenious," said Ruthtaloth as Skirruk's older self finished explaining what had happened to the cabal, "He's a wizard- No one thought to check if he had psionic manifestations active."
"It was. And knowing that no one would check, the Illithids waited in the space in his mind until the rest of the cult found him. And then they destroyed the Woodwing cabal, from inside and out."
Everyone was silent for a moment at the enormity of that thought. The younger Skirruk hadn't spoken since asking herself where Faroot was, too busy trying to contain the horror of everything that had happened, that must not happen now that they knew what was coming, and it was she that spoke first.
"We can try an' trap them. If we can cut the pocket off, then-"
"No." The older Skirruk's reply brooked no argument- this was the first emotion that she had shown the entire time they had been there. "Kill him."
"But-"
"As soon as you get back. Tell the Black Table what will happen. Show them the things you will take home with you. Look at what he has done. You SAW what his works did to us, how Noahlenhkur and Nahlehntra died with the children, how Ashenrell and Ruthtaloth died trying to save the library, how there was nothing left to save past the first sortie. After the power tried to take our father, there wasn't enough left to bury. You must kill him, and kill him straight away."
The two looked at each other, and the younger Skirruk understood everything. How she had been forced to grow up too fast, so that the power of Chaos would remain under her control and not destroy their last chance. How everything she loved had been torn down around her. How she would never see her friends again, and hadn't had the chance to say goodbye, or, even better, the chance to die with them.
The older Skirruk saw that she understood, and smiled, a small, bitter, yet hopeful smile.
"Kill him, and this will never happen."
Skirruk's fist connected with Gauchel's jaw with a crack, but the little girl was tired, and Gauchel was a warrior. As she recoiled from the first strike, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as she struggled.
"You butt! You butt, you died, YOU BUTT!" She screamed, trying to punch him again, but unable to get her arms free. In that moment, Woodwing Gauchel saw his friend as she would be if she had grown up without the defence of being a child, driven by her emotions, wild and angry and terrifying. Then, just as suddenly as she had flown at him, she swooned, unable to hold herself up anymore.
Gauchel scooped her up carefully, resting her fragile head against his shoulder, as Davquelyi looked her over, eyes worried.
"Is this always how it is? I haven't... seen her like this before."
Gauchel nodded, his speech slightly slurred by the swelling around his mouth. "Enervation always takes her hard. This time it's worse, but there was more than the exhaustion riding her."
Davquelyi tried to smile, but couldn't. "Are you going to be alright to get her to Leashah?"
Gauchel nodded again. "I can, and I'll get him to take a look at my jaw. Don't worry, Davquelyi, that future won't happen now, at least, not to us."
The older psion looked at his unconscious daughter, and sighed. "No. But I worry at the future that's going to happen now that this has come to pass."
Davquelyi didn't quite understand what had lit a fire under his student, who he knew he shouldn't think of as his daughter, but something had vaulted her forward into action, making her fingers dance anxiously and her breath come fast. He wasn't sure quite what to make of the report that she and her friends had been into the future, but whatever had happened, it had driven Skirruk into a frenzy, and she dragged him with her relentlessly.
Skirruk reached out to her older self to take her hand, and realised with a start that their hands were the same size. Faroot appeared on the older woman's shoulder, and she stroked him gently, fingers trembling.
"Whare is your fireet?" Said the younger, dreading the answer. The older woman put her hand over her heart and smiled that sad, distant smile.
"He is a part of me now. He became a part of me when it all went wrong."
Skirruk stopped, and turned to face her younger friends so that they could see her clearly- the slight vibration and uncertainty around the edge of her form, the fact that they couldn't tell where her hair stopped and her robes began, and her eyes, which burned entirely with green fire.
"I have become Chaos. There was nowhere else for it to go. So it came into me."
"Let's go again." Skirruk said as she turned her back to the door, eyes focussing on her teacher's hands.
"Skirruk, you've worked hard, and so have I, don't you think we should stop?" Davquelyi asked delicately, not wanting to chide, but she was trembling with the effort of holding back the psychic enervation.
"One more," she insisted, chest rising and falling faster than it should have been, as she raised her hands and rolled back into a defensive stance.
The older Skirruk looked up at each of her friends from the past as they sat down, her face devoid of emotion. Only her younger self saw her fingers wrapped in Faroot's fur, and the shaking that would not go away.
"It is good to see you all again, this one last time. Now there is hope that this, that we will not happen."
"What's going on?" Asked Ruthtaloth, "I mean... what's causing all this?"
"The other planes are gone. Purgatory is gone. The souls of the dead are not returning to the cycle, and the world is dying."
Gauchel swallowed noisily, knuckles white around the hilt of his mace. Bavriymal's jaw dropped open in shock. Even Ruthtaloth's pen stopped moving.
"But... if the other planes are gone..." said Zurashakgau, brow furrowing- she had always been the most practical of them- "Then what happened to the things that were in them?"
"They had to come here. Into vessels. Sekurr became the vessel for the Elemental force of Wood. Bavriymal became the vessel for Magic. It's why you won't see them- they are in hiding. Between you, Ruthtaloth and Gauchel dying in the rebellions, they were all that the forces had left."
"Then you are the vessel of psionic power?" Asked Gauchel finally.
Older Skirruk shook her head, and only her younger self could hear the tears in her voice.
"No. Chaos is a jealous master. It tried to go into Davquelyi. He wasn't ready, wasn't able to accept it. He died, and the psionic force of the world died with him."
"Skirruk, I really don't think-" Davquelyi's protest was cut short as a bolt of fire flew towards him. He swore and jumped sideways, tumbling as he fell, and came to his feet with his mindblades manifested.
"I said ONE MORE!" Skirruk screamed, and the chamber boomed with her shout, pure sonic force blasting into her teacher as he staggered forward. She had always been prone to tantrums, but now, backed by her unpredictable psionic power, they were much more dangerous.
"Woodwing Skirruk, that's ENOUGH!" He shouted, thrusting his mindblade towards her unthinkingly, as the sound battered him. For a moment he blanched, horrified at the thought he had killed his daughter, but somehow, somehow she had dodged around it, flowing like liquid chaos, and sent another lance of energy towards him, this time of ice. His other blade came up instictively, deflecting the ray harmlessly into the wall.
Skirruk raised her hand again- and nothing happened. She shrieked wildly, still moving in impossible ways, and strained to raise the power to fire again. Davquelyi relaxed slightly as she realised she had exhausted herself.
Then, just as he thought the worst was over, the door behind his student opened, and Gauchel looked in, clearly worried at what he had heard. Skirruk didn't even turn to see who it was, but spun on her heel and launched herself at her friend.
"Ingenious," said Ruthtaloth as Skirruk's older self finished explaining what had happened to the cabal, "He's a wizard- No one thought to check if he had psionic manifestations active."
"It was. And knowing that no one would check, the Illithids waited in the space in his mind until the rest of the cult found him. And then they destroyed the Woodwing cabal, from inside and out."
Everyone was silent for a moment at the enormity of that thought. The younger Skirruk hadn't spoken since asking herself where Faroot was, too busy trying to contain the horror of everything that had happened, that must not happen now that they knew what was coming, and it was she that spoke first.
"We can try an' trap them. If we can cut the pocket off, then-"
"No." The older Skirruk's reply brooked no argument- this was the first emotion that she had shown the entire time they had been there. "Kill him."
"But-"
"As soon as you get back. Tell the Black Table what will happen. Show them the things you will take home with you. Look at what he has done. You SAW what his works did to us, how Noahlenhkur and Nahlehntra died with the children, how Ashenrell and Ruthtaloth died trying to save the library, how there was nothing left to save past the first sortie. After the power tried to take our father, there wasn't enough left to bury. You must kill him, and kill him straight away."
The two looked at each other, and the younger Skirruk understood everything. How she had been forced to grow up too fast, so that the power of Chaos would remain under her control and not destroy their last chance. How everything she loved had been torn down around her. How she would never see her friends again, and hadn't had the chance to say goodbye, or, even better, the chance to die with them.
The older Skirruk saw that she understood, and smiled, a small, bitter, yet hopeful smile.
"Kill him, and this will never happen."
Skirruk's fist connected with Gauchel's jaw with a crack, but the little girl was tired, and Gauchel was a warrior. As she recoiled from the first strike, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as she struggled.
"You butt! You butt, you died, YOU BUTT!" She screamed, trying to punch him again, but unable to get her arms free. In that moment, Woodwing Gauchel saw his friend as she would be if she had grown up without the defence of being a child, driven by her emotions, wild and angry and terrifying. Then, just as suddenly as she had flown at him, she swooned, unable to hold herself up anymore.
Gauchel scooped her up carefully, resting her fragile head against his shoulder, as Davquelyi looked her over, eyes worried.
"Is this always how it is? I haven't... seen her like this before."
Gauchel nodded, his speech slightly slurred by the swelling around his mouth. "Enervation always takes her hard. This time it's worse, but there was more than the exhaustion riding her."
Davquelyi tried to smile, but couldn't. "Are you going to be alright to get her to Leashah?"
Gauchel nodded again. "I can, and I'll get him to take a look at my jaw. Don't worry, Davquelyi, that future won't happen now, at least, not to us."
The older psion looked at his unconscious daughter, and sighed. "No. But I worry at the future that's going to happen now that this has come to pass."
