trans_9 | Far From Home [Open]

Ildraniath didn't go out of her way to avoid other members of the crew, but she certainly didn't invite their company either. Getting to know more of them, getting closer to a bunch of mon-keigh seemed counter-productive. It was like getting close to a set of tools or a particularly amusing and intelligent animal. Fulfilling in the short run, perhaps, but ultimately a bad idea in the long run. Besides, the less she had to deal with over-grown idiots the better.

So, she spent most of her time down in the city, wandering its streets, reflecting and planning. She'd have to do something eventually; either earn their trust or demand it. If she wanted to save her dying race, she would have to find a way.

Or simply remove the mon-keigh from the equation altogether. One of the two. She was still determined not to submit to them, however. Dd any of them really think she would trust them with her life, let alone the lives of other Eldar?

It did not help that her readings had been muddled and unclear of late. She paused at a street corner and then her eyes widened. Tucked almost out of sight behind a few squat, ugly-looking mon-keigh buildings was a familiar, smooth, curved form. All elegance and organic forms. Wraithbone. She hurried over, putting her palm against the side of the building. It did not quite resonate or hum as it would've aboard a craftworld. But... it was a building of her people. Nothing special - simply a dwelling. But to find it here....

She spent a long time simply staring up at it. Perhaps her race truly was doomed to fade into obscurity.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"The reasons and point of our society's organization is a very long story. Do you really wish to hear it?" she replied. If pressed, she would tell him, of course. It was a cautionary tale, after all, and she had no desire to see other, lesser species repeating their mistake. Of course, the results might not be nearly as catastrophic, but still worth knowing about.

"I am supposed to show my powers to the head of the crew's magical department at some point. Perhaps you could assist me."

"Of course." He had the time, and if she was willing to relate it, he was willing to listen. In addition, learning more about her history might help him better understand her motivations.

"The Magical Department?" He raised an eyebrow. "Certainly, if you wouldn't mind me being present. I'm not exactly well-known for my mystical adeptitude. Are you planning on joining?"

Very well," Ildraniath nodded and turned to pace for a moment, getting her thoughts in order. "Our society is very heavily regimented. In order to avoid excess and curb our hedonism and indulgences, we focus heavily on one aspect or path at a time. An artisan, for example, would be only an artisan. A warrior, only a warrior. It goes... deeper than that, of course. A change from one path to another often comes with a shift in personality. But you are not expected to focus on one path for your entire life. One can wander too far down a path and become trapped, locked into that path for the rest of their lives."

She paused with a small, amused smile. "That is what I did. I have come down the witch-path and now, here I am. A Farseer for the rest of my days."

She raised a hand and waved it, dismissing the thought with a gesture. "There is a reason for it, of course. We did not embark on such a stringent path merely because we felt like it. No, we fell from grace."

A thoughtful look passed over her features, as if she was remembering something that had happened a very long time ago. "I was not alive then, of course, but many thousands of years ago, we were a vast empire. None could rival us in strength or power and the humans still rooted in the dirt for insects. But... we were, perhaps, too powerful. We fell into hedonism and distraction, turning inward in an orgy of pleasure, discounting all else. Some Eldar saw that we were going too far astray, but... their warnings went unheeded. Some fled to the outworlds. Others moved to the Craftworlds, for then we still lived on the surfaces of planets."

This was almost painful to speak of, but more than anything else she simply looked sad and resigned. "Our excess grew and became something beyond our own control. The very presence of our hedonism in the warp took on a mind of its own and in one explosive moment, She Who Devours was born. Most of our civilization died in a single stroke, their souls and presence in the warp devoured by Her birth. Only the outlying Craftworlds and Exodites survived. And so we fled, our species' death creating a massive tear in the world, a rift between the warp and real space."

She raised a hand, brushing it over the stone on her chest. "And because of our own folly, we cannot be reborn as we once were. We are doomed to a fate worse than death - for an Eldar's presence and psyche does not dissipate back into the warp after our deaths, as the humans do. No, we are more powerful, more attuned and we pay a price for it. We remain aware. But our souls, our very essence, is sought after be She Who Devours and should we die unprotected, She gorges Herself on our essence."

Her gaze was cold and hard and resigned, "That is why I will not allow this ship to die. For if it dies, so do the Eldar aboard and I will not condemn them to that fate."

"I'm... sorry." What could he say to something like that? Zouichi didn't know if souls really existed -- in his world, at least -- and even if they did, whether he possessed one or not. He had little way of relating personally to her story. However, the concept clearly weighed heavily on Ildraniath, as did her civilization's fall from grace. But there was one other thing...

"What do you mean 'protected'?" That part, at least, sounded like there was a way to circumvent their fate, to avoid being caught by She Who Devours.

Then something clicked. "...Cargn? Is that what you asked Cargn for? To 'protect' your soul, should you die?"

There was a reason she liked Zouichi. He learned quickly and he was intelligent enough, for a human construct.

"Yes..." She wasn't entirely comfortable discussing this with an outsider, but if Cargn already knew, what was the point in keeping it secret from Zouichi? She had a feeling she could more readily depend on him, in any case.

"All of our people wear spirit stones. At the moment of death, our essence is trapped by the stone and so we are protected from being destroyed. Cargn has promised me that he will retrieve mine should I fall in battle."

"But what if Cargn should die?" Zouichi frowned. He didn't like it. The idea of Ildraniath's soul being devoured by some dark god that presided over her people, the idea that her only hope of escape hinged upon the good faith of one person...

"... can anyone perform this service for you? Or is some additional ability required, which only Cargn possesses?"

"Anyone can retrieve the stone. If we were aboard a craftworld, there would be something else to be done with it, but here...? It would merely need to be preserved," Ildraniath shrugged.

"I see. In that case, would it be all right if I were to retrieve it? I admit I'm not very familiar with the Eldar, but... I don't like the idea of your soul falling into unscrupulous hands, should something happen to Cargn."

He wasn't even really sure why Ildraniath trusted Cargn, but she must have some reason for doing so.

"By all means. Better then leaving it to be destroyed. We risk our lives to regain our fallen brethren as it is..." She paused and then shrugged. "Having more then one person to focus on the matter seems wise, in any case. Thank you, Zouichi."

And she sounded genuine.

Zouichi nodded. "I will do everything in my power to make certain that does not happen." And when he said that, he meant it.

"Again, my thanks." Ildraniath bowed from the waist. "...and thank you for your interest. For now... I believe I need to attend to a few things."

Far From Home [Open]

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