Breakfast with the Logrus: Tasha, Tear, Amba, and HelenaIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Breakfast with the Logrus: Tasha, Tear, Amba, and Helena (Continued from Breakfast in Chaos: Tasha and Tear and Breakfast in Chaos: Amba, Helena, and Jurt) Deeper in the chapel, as they prepared to descend, Tear and Tasha heard the sounds of shouting and running feet behind them. Then suddenly a long dark note rang out, like the tolling of some vast, appalling knell. Too many things were happening all at once and Tear felt a cool calmness slid over her mind. Larissa had warned her time and again that she might be at risk in Chaos. And those people were running towards them, not walking as people would do if their intentions were peaceful. Not to mention the large canine-thing currently attached to her hand, where her friend had been a second ago. A decade's train at the foot of Mandor took over instantly and instinctively. She pulled away from Tasha and began to retreat downstairs. Her true source of comfort and security stemmed from the Logrus, so she would seek it out. Along the way, she drew it to her, pulling its black tendrils into her heart. "Dusha," she said, feeling the Power Word's energy fill her essence with raw energy that she began to channel to her purposes. And suddenly at her feet were dark steps, leading her downwards ... towards a throbbing heart that welcomed her with love and longing ... Already the Logrus was at work within Tasha, her transformation as natural to her here as the instinct to protect her friend. Sensing that those behind did not intend to allow them further to their goal, Tasha turned snarling, backing slowly toward the spiral steps that led into the depths and to the Logrus below, giving her friend time. Her sharp teeth bared, her golden eyes flashed a warning in the sanguine light: Do not attempt to interfere here. Torren, in the lead of the group, stopped abruptly. "Helena ... Amba ... this is Tasha Talk to her—convince her that we mean neither her nor the Baroness any harm. She may let you approach where we cannot..." Helena blinked and regarded the wolf in front of them. Now Tasha's teasing from Jurt and Despil last cycle made more sense. And his outstretched hand warned Despil to stay back too. "And if you cannot convince her," Torren continued, "use other methods that we might pass." Helena glanced at Amba with a slight smile. They'd talked before about their training in the sword dances and how applicable such movements would be in real combat situations. Perhaps they were about to find out. The spiral stairwell embraced Tear with murky kisses. Silky tendrils of air brushed across her skin like a mother's touch. With every step, her heart filled with the Logrus' alluring call; the Sign forming in her chest like a ball of writhing snakes. Never had she felt so alive, so overcome by the Power dwelling within her. How could she have denied this part of her for so long? Something moved at the edge of her perception. Tear glanced at the polished obsidian wall and gasped. The glassy eyes of a raven stared back at her, its vicious beak and feathered head reflecting in the bottomless stone. When she moved her hand, the creature mimicked the movement perfectly. A nervous giggle escaped her lips; her demonic doppelganger chuckling in kind. She realized she was seeing the demon beneath her skin. And with each step downwards, they were becoming one. Tear turned away from her reflection and continued downward. She'd been denied too much for far too long. But no longer. With the comforting heart of the Logrus pounding in her ears, the young Chaosian sought out her birthright. She'd finally come Home. And she felt the Logrus reaching to her, blindly. She suddenly knew that it was in pain...wounded. And it was calling to her to come and save it, to cure it—just as the Logrus had taken her and protected her so very long ago... [Helena] closed ranks with Amba so that Torren and Despil were protected behind them. "Tasha," she said calmly, "it's Amba and Helena. We need you to let us pass." Protecting Helena's weaker side, Amba stayed alert, making no overtly offensive movements, for indeed, she didn't know how deeply Tasha had subverted her own will and let that of the beast that she had become come forward. "Tasha," Amba dovetailed, on Helena's comments, "Tear is in danger, and she doesn't know it. We need to get to her immediately, or there will be dire consequences." Tasha froze, recognizing the women before her. Their scent was in her nostrils, and marked them...Friends? At least not foes. And she could scent not deceit in their stances. There was perhaps fear, but it seemed directed behind her. Tear was in danger, and it was not those before her that threatened. That much she gathered in the heartbeat between attacking and... Before them stood the girl they had met at dinner the night before. Fearfully she glanced behind her and called out, "Tear! Wait! Our friends are here! Tear... It is Helena and Amba, come to join us! Wait!" She turned and hurried toward the stairs which Tear was descending. "Wait!" Torren glanced at Despil, who had released a long breath as though he had not realised that he had been holding it. "Go first," said Torren to Helena in a low voice. "We'll be behind you. But seeing us might intimidate Solitaire more. Just understand this—you have to stop her reaching the Logrus." She had never heard him sound more defiinite about anything in all her life with him. Wide-eyed, Helena nodded at her stepfather. "Amba, let's go!" she cried out, then broke into a run after Tasha. Amba was at her side, not needing to be told. As she ran, she began to pick up speed, her form becoming more streamlined, her legs becoming longer as her body leaned forward with the changes. By the time they reached the stairs, she was barely recognizeable as herself, bounding ahead of Helena on all fours, what Lord Torren said—and what he hadn't said—spurring her forward to catch Tear before something catastrophic happened. From somewhere below, a stricken voice cried out, "NO!" A moment later, the same young woman yelled desperately, "I hear you, I'm coming…" before fading into hollow echoes. The Logrus' suffering filled Tear's mind like molten lead, almost causing her to plummet over the side of the stairwell and into the hungry darkness. A wretched howl escaped her throat, "NO!" Memories flooded over her with crashing waves. The motherly touch of shadow and flame. Countless voices become One in a gentle lullaby. A baby's laughter. Soothing coils, enveloping. She'd never known such anxiety; a desperation that erased all thought, all caution. Tear plunged down the stairs heedlessly. "I hear you, I coming…" she yelled to her friend, her protector. The air crackled and sparked around her as the Sign grew stronger with every step, their connection growing. All she knew was its voice; its sad, pained voice. Tear's momentum carried her over the last step too quickly and she sprawled on the ground. Teeth bit through the side of her cheek, blood filling her mouth. Her finger and palms burned with scraps, but the pain felt distant, not her own. Only the Logrus' suffering mattered. "I'll save you," she whispered, fighting her way to her feet. "Tear!" Tasha practically fell down the stairs as she took some two at a time. She saw her friend sprawled on the ground at the foot of the stair. She was moving much too quickly to stop her forward momentum and at the last moment she leapt. Her momentum carried her over and past her crouching friend. Twisting around she landed facing Tear, and between Tear and the tendrils of the Logrus. She held up her hands to Tear, "Stop! Wait... It was Amba and Helena, Tear. No one to be afraid of. Tear... They say you're in danger! Tear! You have to stop!" Behind [Tasha] the Logrus writhed and twisted, a seething, bubbling mass of tentacles that seemed predominantly red and which yet, when one looked closely, held all the colours of Shadow in their construction*. [*I am tempted to say like a Mac with a really hot graphics card...] "Solitaire Helgram!" Helena shouted, still coming down the stairs and mustering as much authority into her tone as she could manage, "You will destroy Chaos if you don't stop!" Bracketing Tear, Amba nodded to Tasha over Tear's prostrate form, even as she started to shift back to her normal form. She found it both easier, and harder to shift back. Which was quite strange, since it was usually neither—it just happened. But she had no time to dwell upon that as she concentrated on the Baroness, silent, for in truth, Helena had said all that needed to be said. By the time Tear regained her footing and turned to face the others, the air around her had begun to hiss like ice breaking underfoot. She gazed at them with raven's eyes, jet-black and mirrored. Ichorous tears oozed down her pale cheeks like clotted blood; Logrus tendrils bubbling forth from within her. Each syrupy rivulet twitched and tested the air with blind need and unknowable desire. The Sign had formed within the young baroness. And with that formation, Tear knew power and pain; indivisible and overwhelming. She could bearly hear her companions, as if they were speaking through a cyclone. She sensed the Logrus behind her, calling, begging, crying out for her. Its agony coursed through her veins and turned her blood to slush. Tasha's words were lost to her, but the concern on her friend's face was not. That genuine concern gave her pause; long enough for Helena's words to finally register. But those words were impossible. The Logrus suffered so terribly; a wounded animal begging for relief. Relief that she could provide it. How could easing that pain destroy Chaos? "Lies," she hissed through the shared agony. "You're like all the others. You're lying to me. Can't you hear it? It's in so much pain. So much pain." The mucous-like strands of shadow dripped from her eyes lashed out, slicing through the obsidian floor around her feet. In mere seconds, razor-thin slivers of stone lifted up and began slashing through the air around her in a protective shield. Tasha had to try once more; calling out to Tear, "Tear! Maybe I can help! Tell me what you want to do!" Tasha reached a plaintive hand toward Tear, disregarding the swirling shards. One slashed her fingers, but she didn't seem to feel the pain. "Stay back," she begged. "I don't want to hurt you. But it needs my help." And Tear turned to look at Tasha ... Helena heard Tear's response as she ran down the last few stairs. The girl was obviously under some influence—most likely the Logrus—and Helena deemed that if Tear was not going to listen to them now, then continuing to talk to her was not going to make any difference. Tear's back was to Helena. There would be no better time for Helena to act, and indeed, Torren's insistence that Tear be stopped forced Helena's hand. Ignoring the slivers of stone whizzing around Tear's body, Helena flying tackled Tear as she came off the stairs. The clothing Lord Torren had insisted they all wear was tough (and quite possibly protected by Other Means as well). Nonethless, the outer layers were shredded and there were several deep gashes on the inner layer—three of which penetrated to score long wounds on Helena's arms and her right thigh. Long but—thanks to the thickness of the garments—relatively shallow. Her movements were swift enough to protect her face by and large—although one sting across her forehead was enough to make her wish she had been masked as well... Knowing what it was like to be betrayed and have your emotions played upon, Amba sympathized more than she would have thought possible with the slight Baroness. She knew that a tale always had two sides, but the idea of a child being sacrificed to this monstrous force, combined with Lord Torren's words and the look on his face ripped that maxim from her mind. She knew that Tear had to be stopped, and that if she hesitated, their chance to do so might well be lost. As the barrier began to form, Amba leaped into the air, reaching inside of her even as she did for the power to breach the wall before it fully formed. Her scaled hand reached out towards the stones as she shouted "Geomjeong! Gaelsaek!" even as she prepared to break through the shield with her other scaled hand... The stones seemed to quiver in the air—and hang, motionless. As Amba's arm penetrated through, they parted as though they were shingle on the beach... And then Helena too was through the cordon of obsidian, and bearing Tear to the ground...even as the blood began to run down into her eyes... And the obsidian became to spiral again...slowly...still avoiding Amba as she pressed forward... Intent upon Tear and their struggle, neither Amba nor Helena noticed a movement in the dark shadows to one side. But Tasha caught it out of the corner of her eye... Helena rolled off of Tear just enough to give Amba clear line-of-sight without sacrificing her hold on the young woman. She blinked the blood out of her eyes as best she could. And Amba extended one pale hand and caught the blood as if in a cup. The Logrus, deep within the cave, twisted and surged. Tear hit the ground with a cry of outrage and pain. But the fight did not go out of her. If anything, it only fueled her determination. Twenty years of bottled up anger came rushing out in unrestrained fury. A feline hiss escaped her bloodied lips, "Zemlya Fatr." Thick clots of shadow poured out of her eyes and mouth and into the ground. As the shadows spread outward, the flagstones transformed into a quagmire of liquid stone. Obsidian fingers grasped and clawed at Helena and Amba, hungrily pulling them down into the now viscous floor. And although protean and fluid, the stone had lost none of its imposing hardness. As the stone took her, Amba threw her hand forward. Something flew out— once droplets of Helena's blood, but no longer droplets—now wielded together into a Tu-Scart, a creature that looked very much akin to a sand dollar, small as it left Amba's hand, but welling and swelling in the air until when it landed like a wet slap on Tear's face, it covered her nose, her mouth, her eyes...wrapping over her delicate ears...so that suddenly she was deprived of light, sound, scent...only the Logrus throbbed deep in her core... Helena was conscious of the stone dragging her down, crushing her...Torren had leapt the last few steps to her side; Despil had moved to Amba. The rock sucked at Helena and she feared for her life. She had not felt such fear since the time she ate the poisoned pear and her throat constricted so she couldn't breathe. She remembered... "Shift!" he shouted at her, even as he drew his hand back, his fingers flickering as he completed some strange lynchpin. Torren caught at Helema's arms above the elbow, holding her fast. "Use it," he said. "Use what you know ... " Neither man seemed affected by the sucking stone. Tasha had caught sight of the movement of a cloaked figure to one side of the cave. She scented the air, but the fear and now pain emanating from Tear, Amba and Helena were too strong for her to get a "smell" of the cloaked figure. Already alert to "danger" she saw this new apparition as dangerous and reacted accordingly, with a warning growl...shifting into a human/wolf hybrid. Softly she padded over to the shadows... And saw an old man, old beyond comprehension, it seemed, who was watching the conflict beginning to play out before the Logrus with surprisingly bright blue eyes. "Gently, little one," he said, and suddenly turned his head to smile at her. "Gently." Tasha shook her head. "My friends are in trouble! They are fighting against each other and someone is going to be hurt! Can't you stop this? Can you help them!?" He turned his head slightly, watching with the faintest of smiles. In despair, Tasha cried out. "Tear! Stop. Oh...please stop!" Her own hand lifted, pointing to the stone...and suddenly Amba and Helena felt themselves moving more easily...more freely as they shifted. Amba stretched her arms up high with a scream that became increasingly shrill and vibrating... And suddenly where she had stood something lifted into the air in a ripple of light—an iridescent plumed serpent with feathered wings—very similar to a quetzalcoatl lifting into the air. Helena heard her father's words and remembered, latching onto the recollection. Shift! she willed to herself. Shift, or you'll die! With no conscious control on her part once it started save for her fear spurring it on, her body flowed, like custard squeezed in her hand. Dark feathers rustled and wings stretched outward. Helena cried out with the effort, the sound alien in her ears. A black swan flapped its wings in Torren's grasp, struggling to free itself from the sucking stone and fly away, far away. He opened his arms and she rose...even as the plumed serpent that was Amba had done. Tear's face was still covered by the bloody creature Amba had created. Disgust transformed to panic as the living mask clamped down over Tear's face. Only years of harsher training prevented her from going into a pure panic. Besides, she could still see in other ways. Even so, she staggered back, struggling to remove this-thing-from her face. The Logrus tendrils surrounding the young woman lashing out at Amba and the others like barbed shadows, fighting to keep them at bay. But the tendrils lashed blindly, for the other two had risen into the air...Despil sprang back with an oath; Torren held his ground while the air sizzled and spat around him with psychic energy. A wet ripping sound suddenly overshadowed Tear's muffled screams. Her skin began to swell and slog off like ribbons; black feathers and chitin erased her timid beauty. A pair of raven's wing tore from her back and wicked talons sliced through the meat of her fingers and toes. The creature on her face spilt open and fell away in ragged pieces as Tear's razor-sharp beak speared through it. Now free. the corvid-demon screamed its anguish and rage; its mirror-like eyes bereft of humanity. And then it too was in the air...like the serpent and the swan... Tasha's lips began to move as she stared as the three creatures rising into the air... Powerful wings beat at the air as Helena, unaccustomed to flying, sought to maintain control. She climbed higher, seeking to put distance between herself and the disturbing new creature that was once Solitaire Helgram. Tear felt heady with the power of her demon-body; a dark engine of flesh and rage. It refueled her energy and erased the deepening exhaustion from her arcane manipulations. The Logrus sang and screamed in her mind, drawing her ever forward with its desperate calls. She leapt over the tar-like floor, hoping that she would be beyond the reach of her attackers. The kaleidoscope of colors from the Logrus reflected in her mirrored eyes. She could feel its warmth on her feathers; soothing as a mother's embrace. With another beat of her great, black wings, the young Baroness closed the space between herself and her greatest desire. Nothing would stop her from reaching it now. Or would it? As the plumed serpent rose into the air, it stopped, hearing the flapping of wings behind it. Looking back down, and seeing the swan, Amba knew almost instantly who she was. She waited as the swan rose into the sky, but her feeling of lightness became almost instantly dark, seeing the demon behind the swan's delicate shape. Almost instantly she shifted, becoming more like her normal self, but her whole body was covered in the iridescent scales that she manifested before only on parts of her body- her face a mix between human and some sort of dracoform akin to the one in her tattoo, her nails razor sharp and almost impossibly long. Even her wings had changed to be armored and more reptilian in shape. She roared a challenge, steam emanating from her mouth as she did, and then she fell in a dizzying spiral, looping outside of the rising shape of the swan, zeroing in on the corvid demon. But Tear seemed unaware of the deadly attack ... Out of the corner of her eyes she caught a glimpse of a familiar face. One that had haunted her dreams for as long as she could remember. The old man standing near Tasha. He'd helped her once, hadn't he? If so, then he held all the answers she'd been seeking for so very long. She hesitated and came to rest once more; razor-sharp talons digging into the floor. "You!" Tear cried; her beak muddling the word. And then Tasha screamed aloud—a single word. Weak and puny it seemed against the great, arcane forces ranged around the Chapel of the Logrus. The simplest form of sorcery, little, simple words, effervescent as a scrap of mist. Enough to blow out a candle, or light it again. Or, if you were lucky, to turn away a blow—whether physical or psychic. But this word hung in the air, like smoke from a beautiful woman's held cigarette, or the final note of a sad song after the singer has closed their lips. And it grew. It grew in power and strength and ferocity. Tasha, standing appalled to one side, was dazedly aware that this was not all her, that the old man beside her had taken her simple word and powered something into it, some force, some power—that made the little bones in her head vibrate, and shifting could not help, could not escape the solid, inexorable power that was ranged against them all. And then it ended, abruptly, and there was a tangle of three naked girls lying dazed on the flagstones, their limbs twisted together, as they gasped for breath. "Well done, my dear," said the old man to Tasha. "You showed great presence of mind. Now I think we should all go and have breakfast." He looked at the heap that was Tear, Amba and Helena. "I think you might want to dress first, though," he added thoughtfully. Torren was already swinging off his cloak. Despil followed suit. The old man slipped off his robe, revealing the red silk beneath, the heavy gold badge of his office. "Give that to young Solitaire," Suhuy told Tasha. Helena gathered Torren's cloak around herself and stood up shakily, leaning on his arm for support. Although she'd much rather be human than swan, that was not her preferred method of reverting back. She felt stunned from the forced shift, as if she still wasn't completely a part of the body she found under the cloak. Having your insides twisted and stretched and scrunched—was that what it felt like to shift? Amba never seemed to be in any discomfort whenever she shifted, Helena noted despairingly. "I think I'm going to throw up," she whispered, regretting now the extra sweet rolls and heavy sausages she ate back at Ishtarways that morning, oh, a century or so ago. Torren kept a reassuring arm around her. Likewise taking Despil's cloak around her, Amba nodded her thanks, moving swiftly to disentangle herself from Tear. As she stood, she realized she was going to need a few seconds to adjust—normally, though she shifted quickly, it was also a smooth affair—this was more of a snap to her base form, akin to running into a wall, and she felt the stress of it, both physically and mentally. Readjusting herself to human sight, she saw the man that Tasha left to come to Tear, and her brow beetled. She should know who this was, but in her frazzled state, she couldn't recall... The old man smiled at her, though, and gave her a little nod, as though of recognition. Strangely enough, this seemed to make Despil tighten his own hold on her protectively. Offering the others an apologetic glance, Tasha gingerly made her way over to where Tear lay on the ground and kneeled down beside her, "Oh.. Oh.." Her eyes filled with tears for her friend, "I am so sorry! I had no idea any of this would happen." She held out the robe, and shook her head. This would never do. Tear needed more than a robe. In a second the robe had transformed into some silk panties, a soft blouse, and skirt. They all came out a shifting non-descript gray color, like the old man's cloak had been, but they were certainly better than... nothing. Tasha held them out to Tear, offering her not only the clothes but a comforting embrace if she should need one. Tear regarded Tasha with a vacant expression. She felt as weak as a newborn kitten; the spontaneous castings and rapid Shift having strained her body to the limits. The coy taste of copper still clung to her lips and the ghostly call of the Logrus still echoed in her mind. But all she wanted to do was fall into a dreamless. After a moment she began to feel the chilly floor through her skin, the pain from her twisted limbs. Rest would not come while she remained here. Numbly, she stood up and dressed; ignoring the fact there were men about to see her nude form. Nor did she dare look at the two women she'd hurt during the struggle. Instead, she focused solely on Tasha for the moment. Her friend's gentle expression gave her all the strength and comfort she required. She gave her friend a faint smile. "Thank you," she whispered. Tear touched Tasha's cheek and shook her head, wiping away the tears. "It's okay." And then she turned away, her violet eyes flickering in the shadows as they focused on the old man. "You," she said timidly. "You're the one from my dreams. My nightmares. Who are you? What? Happened here?" "Yes," said Suhuy. "Yes, I'm the one from your nightmares." He spoke with calm certainty, as though this was the most normal and pleasant thing to be. "My name is Suhuy, the Master of the Logrus. And many things have happened here—love, and death and madness. Sometimes they all happen together—as they did the night you were here before." "Suhuy," Tear said softly, tasting the name on her tongue. She found its dark flavors comforting, like sipping dark oolong beneath a moonless night. His words filled her with a familiar calm and stirred a connection she did not quite understand. Tear gazed up at him, reading the parchment skin of his face as if it were a forgotten tome. But instinctively, the young woman knew that in his words—and those to come—she would discover Truth. Not an answer to her questions, perhaps, but a cruel honesty nonetheless. He would pull back the Veil and she would be burned by what lay beyond, scarred by the maturity he would force upon her. But growing up was never easy. Truth always had a price. He placed one gnarled hand on each of Tear and Tasha's shoulders, turning them gently but firmly away. "I think we'll go now," he said. "And I think we won't invite the Lady Fiona to join us." Tear nodded lightly. Without asking, she guided Suhuy's ancient arm around her, so she might lean against him as they walked. His presence slid over her like a soothing blanket, edging out the chill of the tempestuous morning. She let out a happy sigh, the threat of adrenaline-poisoned tears extinguished. Here, in the embrace of her nightmares, she found the solace she'd always dreamt of. Torren opened his mouth as though to protest—and then thought better of it. Helena wasn't quite as intimidated as her stepfather—or perhaps it was that she wasn't quite as wise. She frowned at her former teacher. "But Lord Suhuy, Mother will worry!" All around them, the stones of the cave began to shimmer... "Please bring her and Jurt along too!" Helena pleaded. "It must be dreadful for them not to know what has happened, to not know we're...safe." She looked at Tear dubiously. "Hmm," said Suhuy. He turned his head and simply looked at Despil, who frowned. "No! I was here—I have a right to know what happens next!!" "Rights?" said Suhuy, amused. "In Chaos?" Suddenly Despil was shimmering, as much as the walls.... (Continued in The Winding Stair) |
