▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ [[The tip of a wooden pen is tapped thrice on a desk in quick succession, before a final dot is placed after a name. The notice written would later be found, tacked to the notice board of Floralcourt.]] There are a dozen things someone could say in my position. “I regret not a single one of my actions.” “This is only just the beginning.” “Let it be known that even in the face of this defeat, we will always persist.” But those would all be lies, would they not? Who would I even preach to beside the thing I call my dearest sister? I am tired, I have been abandoned, there are a thousand things I regret and wish I could have done better, because maybe then the people I called my family would still be here and not missing or dead. We can scream and fight and fall all we want, in the end - nothing was worth it. And if there was one good thing that came from the vows I made with my Warden, it will be that I swore not to commit myself to things to the point of certain death. The days of the Yolteotl Troupe are over. Everyone but Fae has been cured, some of us don’t even remember any of it. I will become one of those. If the Cahal were like birds, I was a Mooan raised up and glorified like a Thunderbird. And the one befitting of that role played me like a fiddle. And then Therese played me a second time. I miss both of them, I can return to the latter. Perhaps I will. Towards the end of our time, I wasn’t a Warden anymore. I had gone too far when I made deals with demons, and because of me Haqet still exists. I cannot call myself a leader anymore, but I will make my call to those who formerly called me a leader anyway; To those considering to return, and to my dear sister still going down this spiraling path: Stop. It is time for us to move on, and if I found refuge and help under the Greatmother, then all of you can too. We don’t need anything but ourselves and each other to be Her faithful. We could become a normal family if you just came back to me, Fae. Let me rest in peace, knowing that you are finally safe, - Leskensia. [ @dimetros ]
[An angry notice is pinned beneath the one in floralcout, some hours after the first. The writing is... Rough. At best - the author is clearly still working on her common, and was perhaps moved enough by this notice to post a response of her own. It reads as follows] OTHERS MAY FORGIVE YOU BUT I DO NOT. YOU ARE STILL A DEMON LOVER. YOU WILL BE CLEANSED. FOR THE FIRELORD. -Sun Heishan
The Great Mother smoothed over the parchment with a delicate white hand after ensuring it was perfectly framed in the centre of the board. She turned to face her district with a chin held high, looking over its gardens with a sneer.
The barest of responses was tacked delicately to the bottom of the page. Minimal, but present. Just over half a dozen tiny stars, inked there with a fountain pen, stacked in an upward pointing formation. Enchanted ink would keep each glowing, dimly, in different colours throughout the evening. ✦ ✦ _✦ ✦ ____✦ ✦ _______ ✦ Rest.
The Yanar found the notice, looking it over with silver eyes. The name was unfamiliar and most of the context lost, but she attempted to piece it together regardless. The hardness in her gaze slowly softened in compassion, relenting as she read the final paragraph as she mused quietly to herself. If the Cahal were disbanding and genuinely regretted what they has done, well... She was hardly one to refuse their attempt to change. And if so... There was little reason for further conflict. She turned to go as a warm breeze stirred the leaves of the district, pondering whether this was a sign of peace to come... or whether trust and compassion would be broken once again. 'Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.' Her father's words repeated themselves in her mind as she walked towards the Tree, settling herself down to commune with friends and strangers alike. Time would tell.
A very confused Daendroque looks upon these many letters, “They actually managed it, to Hound these Cahal to such dire straights…praise be the Everwatcher for that. Yet, if this is accomplished purely with chains of hallowtech and manipulation of mind, what shall happen if these lost are kept found only by technology and naught else. Even the best Dwarven device can still fail, let us hope they all have turned from the path. Out of genuine revelation and not merely artificial correction.” But them he reads again, and allows some part of himself to believe, “Let us hope, this change free and true perhaps then they shall all find their way to the rightful path. The path of control over the Exist not submission to its afflictions.”
An Avantl landed at the board, he scrutinized the writing with unadulterated hatred in his eyes. Fire crackled up his arms as the Extinguisher's scales glowed with a violet energy. "There is no forgiveness, there is only war. You are not spared cauterization. You will be EXTERMINATED. You and Aegipane alike, neither of you are worth your breath. For the Firelord, whose hatred burns like fire." The molten wings spread outward, before he was launched into the air, as the occasional black and orange dart that flew over Crookback and Floral Court had returned to its route, scouring the cityscape beneath for Cahal and their ilk.
Aldon stood before the message with a sigh, letting his life leave his body with the exhalation. There were a thousand things he could say or do, a thousand ways to feel, a million thoughts filling his mind. This was an ending, one that left him in silence. An ending that he had not been part of. He thought of his mentor in that moment, his friend, and all the strangers that he had failed. The legacy of his family had fled like water down a stream, and he had failed. So he did one final motion for the Yolteotl, for the Pri’oris: he placed his hand on the note, and breathed, “I am sorry, Avarelle. I let Her down. I hope someday you forgive me.” He let his hand rest there… and then he let go.
Argo had read them all, all the papers sent from the hands on the Troupe, seeing all that they spoke of.. and wishing things had gone better for one that's light went out too fast. It.. It was over, the work he wrote about wanting to halt, but.. how much had he actually done to stop it? He didn't know, but, it wasn't time to think about that. Now, it was time to help those people left confused and scared of their new lives after the affliction. He didn't want things to be the same, nor did he want to hold onto any hatred or anger he felt. It was time to help those he considered enemies rebuild, and to make something better. "Well.. no time like the present."
