Screams...

[donotmail]

| characters | Arj and anyone

| date/time | 26th, when the Violinist appears

| location | Outside the tree, by the entrance.

| rating | teen and up to be safe?

| summary | So that's where all those sounds were coming from...



There's a soft rain falling outside the tree today, clouds dimming the sky and mist rising from the ground. The very air is damp, smelling of moss and rich soil. The rains here aren't the ones Arj is used to - sudden flashes, followed by a sudden wild bloom across the desert. Here they're long and persistent. He shivers as he huddles in his leaf cloak, and wonders if there's a chance of finding anything warmer around here...

He's sitting in the entrance right now, backlit by the warm glow of the stream. Even if he liked the cold, he wouldn't venture out into raindrops the size of his head. Nothing makes him feel small like feeling them thud into the ground, seeing even the gentle drops tear up the dirt firsthand.

Above the drumming drops, he's listening out for the sounds that woke him up last night. They seem to be closer.

A figure is stirring in the mist, blurred by rain and fog.

"Well then," the kiarr says. "Seems we have another incident. And what needs doing this time?"

Comments

[donotmail]

Arj nods. He knows of kiarrs with similar abilities, so that's not a surprise to him.

"It's only light," he repeats. But he stands up anyway, the cloak draped over his back, and looks out to the rainy vista outside. Nothing's changed so far. If it does, he'll hear it. And he can feel the damp creeping into his coat.

He hods up a paw, and a sheet of golden light hovers before the entrance, flexing and wavering like an aurora. This time it takes a lot of effort, to take the scene from his memory and reproduce it in detail on his immaterial canvas. The image comes together like a watercolour hanging in mid-air - a rocky bluff overlooking a bare valley, scattered with low and twisted pines...

[princeandscholar]

Orcelito settles himself more comfortably, unsure how long this magic will take but glad to see it through. On passing thought, he reaches up to his shoulder to catch his firefly and bring him between himself and Arj. If they’re going to be here a while, they may as well both be warm.

Watching Arj manipulate the light is unlike anything he’s seen yet. The canvas itself is beautiful. He watches silently as the colors appear and form shapes, curious as to where it all comes from. When the details start filling in, he’s speechless; he didn’t know light could be so precise! This isn’t like light reflecting through glass; it’s more like a mosaic or a painting.

Orcelito smiles, but not the practiced smile of before. This is wistful, pleased, and refreshingly genuine. “My home is similar.” He says softly, just enough to be heard over the rain. He reaches out tentatively, not wanting to disturb Arj’s concentration, to point to the bluff. “I lived on a cliff like this. It was windy, and cold once the sun set. You could see so many stars at night.”

[donotmail]

"Well... thankyou," he says. Though his big, expressive ears aren't fully perked again, the kiarr looks a little brighter for the praise, forcing back the impulse to stress again that his images are nothing more than light. The illusion has some personal significance as well - the bluff is where he would come some days to be apart from the clan, up with the resin scented pines and his thoughts for company. Orcelito's approval is enough to make him relax.

"I know what you mean," he adds, when Orcelito tells him about the stars. "We didn't come out at night very often, but sometimes, when it was warm enough, everything was clear. Not just the rings and the moons, the stars too."

He sits back, his work completed. "If someone leaves, do you think home's where they end up again?"

[princeandscholar]

“Moons and rings?” He asks curiously. “Then… there is more in your night skies than just one moon?” He wonders if the constellations change on Arj’s world like they do here. It’s something Orcelito cannot get used to; the stars should stay in one place and it is disturbing when they move about.

“I hope so.” He regards the light picture, soaking in the familiarity. “Some of the others have suggested we’ll return to very time and place we last were. That it will be as though we never left.” He can’t imagine carrying these memories back to his world, into his day to day life. So many things have changed, and he worries he is changing with them.

He smiles easily – too easily – and leans forward to rest his arms on his knees. “But even if I’m gone from my world for several months, I still want to return.” He almost asks if Arj has family waiting for him too. But maybe it’s different with cats than it is with people?

[donotmail]

"The sky here is a little empty, yes." It's true that talking to the other inhabitants helped him realise that he was no longer on Ryll, but what told Arj for sure that he was on a different world was its night sky.

"It sounds to me like you have something good to go back to," he says, settling back into a comfortable loaf position. "I don't know if I would mind going home or not. But what do you think would happen if... if someone did not want to return?"

His eyes look distant again, staring at nothing. He knows not everyone in the Tree, past or present, spoke so highly of their world.

[princeandscholar]

A sky that seems empty… he can’t imagine fitting more in the sky than is already there. “Wouldn’t having more than one moon make the night skies brighter?” He asks.

Good to go back to… he can’t say that, not without hesitating. But there are good things, yes. A familiar world and place, stars that stay the same... but there will be things missing too. Perhaps Arj has found some of those ‘things missing’ here as well.

He smiles, but there’s an ironic quality to it. “You are not the only one who wonders.” He admits. “You could ask Fuu or Owain. They know more of this sort of thing than I do.” Though, this place seems to function differently than the worlds those two have visited. And he never heard either of them say they had a choice to go or stay.

“Are there things you like about this place?” Orcelito inquires, seeming to simply make conversation, perhaps digging for more but it’s hard to tell with him. Agendas are unpredictable and change moment to moment. He distracts with a hint of humor. “Not the cold, certainly.”