Feiruza

[Lucind Varhetel]

"I shall," replied the monk. "I am pleased that you did not accept the gold. Forgive me for thinking it would match the importance you put on these texts."

This was no lie, as was evident in the monk's face - and Lucind saw and heard all of it. The woman shook her head. "No, Mr. Tenkai, there is no need to ask me for forgiveness. You did not do me wrong. After all, the question here is not how I value the text."

When the monk got ready to leave, the Siren waited until he had said what he wanted to say and reacted with a smile: "The pleasure truly was mine. - There is, however, one last thing I would like to ask of you." A short pause.

"A lock of your hair. Just a thin strand. As a 'prepayment'...and a pledge of your honest wish to own Van Helsing's writing."
She would wait to see if Tenkai was ready to give her that small amount of hair. If he did, Lucind would take the lock - and while thanking him and explaining that in one week, the Feiruza would be at the same spot, an invisible wind would caress the hair to neatly curl it up in the woman's hand.


Eventually alone, her eyes stared at the door through which the monk had just left. The polite look vanished from her face to first be replaced by blankness.
"Did he even notice I contradicted myself", she mumbled, still holding the hair in her hald opened hand. "It's not about giving the right price to me...or whoever owns what they wish for...it's about them...always about them." She slightly tilted her head. "What are they willing to do? What...are they honest...? How many betray themselves? But here, they get what they deserve, and if they aren't honest then..." A throaty chuckle escaped Lu's throat. Lost in her thoughts, she whispered. "Oh, I won't hurt them. I won't betray them...they do it all on their own, if they aren't honest...although...though..." A sigh. She licked her lips. "Is it wrong to ask for their...I've got enough means to pay for a book...I won't even need whatever Tenkai is going to offer, likely not, no, he does that for himself, he has to face himself and his real wishes, but..." The free left hanging by her side slowly clenched and unclenched, her eyes narrowed to slits. "Is it wrong to want to taste...memories..." She breathed in deeply. "They sounded...delicious..."

Suddenly, Lucind straightened and blinked, even blushed when her head involuntarily turned around to Maximos, her eyes barely meeting his.

"Well. We have to see if Mr. Tenkai will be honest with himself. I hope he is. Nothing good ever came from a meaningful item purchased halfheartedly."

The Siren walked the long back wall of the library where her desk was. From a chest of drawers she took a pouch and from that a box which she lightly shook: something light pattered against the lacquer. "Fingernails of a mermaid. Together with the hair a perfect bait for the man who currently owns Van Helsing's text." With that, she put Tenkai's lock into a tiny sac and had it vanish in the pouch, together with the box. Both times, when she opened and closed the drawer, the same trails of ancient magic would scan her hand just as it had happened earlier when the woman entered the library.

"So, my dear..." Lu turned to look at Maximos. "Shall we go back upstairs to finish our tea? If Fletcher left anything for us, that is." There wasn't a hint of a smirk on her lips, yet it was obvious that the Siren had just offered a game. Both of them were burning to do something else than sipping tea, that is, see something else - and that was right behind them, merely hidden by a magically protected wall.  

[Maximos]

Eventually alone, Maximos saw Lucind's displeasure before it ever broke through to her beautiful features. It was his role to make it better, soften it. To bring happiness wherever she had lacked. And so he moved, silent and untraceable as a shadow. His soundless smooth steps brought him closer, and closer from behind Lucind.

"Did he even notice I contradicted myself", she mumbled, still holding the hair in her hald opened hand. "It's not about giving the right price to me...or whoever owns what they wish for...it's about them...always about them."

Max said nothing, stepping up as stealthy as any Reaper should be. His arms rose, his hands slid forward, fingertips grazing her hips before he closed the gap between them, interlocking his hands around her waist. She slightly tilted her head, and Maximos face moved in over the shoulder with slightly more space.

"What are they willing to do? What...are they honest...? How many betray themselves? But here, they get what they deserve, and if they aren't honest then..." A throaty chuckle escaped Lu's throat. Lost in her thoughts. Max's face slid against hers before he softly turned his face to kiss her cheek.

"Oh, I won't hurt them. I won't betray them...they do it all on their own, if they aren't honest...although...though..." A sigh. She licked her lips, and as she did Maximos' lips moved back along her, softly kissing her cheek a second time and then her jawline, then the side of her porcelain pale neck. He would never dream of interrupting her, that would be rude.

"Is it wrong to ask for their...I've got enough means to pay for a book...I won't even need whatever Tenkai is going to offer, likely not, no, he does that for himself, he has to face himself and his real wishes, but..." His lips moved up, hovering over her ear breathlessly, Maximos exuding likely now all too familiar soapy scent.

"Is it wrong to want to taste...memories..."
"Of course not dearest." He whispered ever so gently into her ear.
"They sounded...delicious...", He chuckled softly.
"There is nothing good nor evil, only thinking makes it so."

Suddenly, Lucind straightened and blinked, even blushed when her head involuntarily turned around to Maximos, her eyes barely meeting his. It was an awkward angle, Max understood, with a mischievious smirk on his face he craned leaned to the side and craned his neck to try his best to meet her eyes.

"Well. We have to see if Mr. Tenkai will be honest with himself. I hope he is. Nothing good ever came from a meaningful item purchased halfheartedly." Maximos nodded a stately nod.
"You reap what you sew."

His fingers unlocked letting her slip delicately away as the Siren walked the long back wall of the library where her desk was. Max watched her go, turning to face her instead of crossing the distance. He watched with growing curiosity as he pulled the box from the desk. His eyebrow cocked at the mention of mermaid fingernails, as his mind swirled with curiosity. Who...or perhaps, what, would be baited by that?

"So, my dear..." Lu turned to look at Maximos. As her eyes moved to where he was standing, he would find he was not there, rather Max was already at the front of her desk leaning comfortably on its edge.
"Shall we go back upstairs to finish our tea? If Fletcher left anything for us, that is."

Maximos' smirk spread to a full grin. A game she wanted? He could play. Just as quickly as the grin had split his face, it fell away leaving an almost dramatically down face in its place.

"Would that I could my dear..." Max said, shaking his head dejectedly side to side, his eyes scanned the wood grain of her desk, avoiding her eyes entirely.

"But you see...that would be so very rude of me." Slowly his eyes rose, like a scolded child or a very apologetic adult.

"I mean....after I made such an ostentatious..." His right hand rose, its black gloved fingers rolling into a fist, and then opening again. Maximos hesitated as if searching to find the correct word, all the while his eyes focused intently on the contours of his own hand. Then his fingers curled inward like a sort of claw as he said "...introduction, I fear it would be unforgivably rude to your guests if I did not properly introduce myself."

His eyes finally rose, and setting their gaze as softly as mismatched soul piercing eyes can be set, he added. "You understand, of course. Dont you?"  

[Lucind Varhetel]

She didn't flinch, didn't stop in her trail of thought. Only her body reacted on its own acount, drawing comfort from the dark warmth Maximos brought.

There is nothing good nor evil, only thinking makes it so.

Thinking...

Even while stashing away the monk's hair together with those fingernails, while initiating a game that probably wasn't more than an excuse to shift part of the decision whether or not to go into that room - even then, her mind was trembling: speculation, games of logic, ancticipation, desire. Reason was on a lost position, that she knew very well, but still the Siren saw herself embedded in a system of responsibility. She had promised to take care of the people on these ship. She was still part of the Sirenic society. She wasn't willing to give that up because it was filled with one side of her.

Maybe morality was just as relative as was truth. And yet, at all times had people chosen to come to terms with view on what was right or wrong, so that a civilization didn't annihilate itself too fast. But there had also always been bright things, warm and gentle, dreams and laughter and the all eased heart - enough to hold on to life. How often had she wondered who had initially come up with the idea to compose this eternal tragicomedy, filled with figures that had to make their way, equipped with a soul of the grayest gray: A bunch of jesters and fools, fighting to solve the riddle - is there a sense in it all? -, one eye laughing, the other crying.

For Lucind, it had never really been a question of not finding the strength to go on, there had always been enough to hold on to, and if it was only her own will.

How far can you go?

That was what went through her mind, round and around and...

How far do you want to go?

She had never been a saint. Had hurt, tortured, killed. But only now she was able to admit that all those years her consciousness had partly hidden behind her mother's ghost.

Am I thinking too much? Thinking...


Maximos' smirk spread to a full grin. A game she wanted? He could play. And the way he did made an amused smile appear on Lu's lips. Slowly, she moved over to the other end of the desk, where he was standing.

"I mean....after I made such an ostentatious..." His right hand rose, its black gloved fingers rolling into a fist, and then opening again. Maximos hesitated as if searching to find the correct word, and the Siren's smile became sweeter and darker at the same time.
"...introduction, I fear it would be unforgivably rude to your guests if I did not properly introduce myself."

She raised her brows, waiting for his final comment she could see was coming.

"You understand, of course. Don't you?"

"Always a gentleman..." A sigh. She shook her head, now standing in front of the Shadow. "You do know your manners." Gently taking his left in hers, Lucind lifted his hand, first to nuzzle her cheek against it, then to plant a kiss on the palm. If she had to push up a glove's seam she would do to finally lean forward and softly press her lips onto his wrist, where they would linger for a moment.
Finally, her mouth curled into a grin, right on his flesh, before she looked up at him: "Well then, let's go and say hello."


Even if she didn't use a direct link to Maximos' mind to send her thoughts silently, the Siren knew her soul was producing enough colorful works for him to know well what was going on inside her.
Each step bringing her closer to the room on the other end made her heart beating faster until, when she placed a hand on the door latch, the hammering cut off every further word. Her jaw tightened, her lips along with it. Without further ado, the dark haired woman went through the door to reveal the smallest rectangular room behind, a corridor rather, which held...cleaning tools: brooms, buckets, sponges and cloths, liquid soap and dusters. The stone wall directly opposite of the entrance would have appeared strange even to normal eyes, though, simply because most things on this ship were made of wood. The Shadow, Lucind was sure of, must have noticed right away that this was nothing more but the last barrier between him and those special guests - what she could not tell was if he also saw the second door before activating it.

Once the door to the tiny storage corridor was closed, it was completely dark. The Siren lifted a hand, hesitated a second, before placing it against the cold stone. Again, the ship - or the spirit inhabiting it - became alive, examining who was asking for entrance, and the corner of Lu's mouth twitched when the same magical wind brushed along and beneath her hand fiercely, tousling her navy blue locks. The Shadow would sense it, probably even smell it: the ship had taken blood, and soon after, a complicated pattern of magic trails, invisible in itself, but glowing bright blue for Maximos' eye, ran in all directions, with Lucind's hand being the starting point. Like a net of vessels, the pattern spread incredibly fast, until three straight lines marked its confinement - and also the point where the stone would slowly move forward, scratching along stone and wood. Reaching to the left, the Siren grabbed the new door, pushed it aside, leaving blood stains on it. It would close behind them, all by itself.

Walking into the secret room was like leaving an airconditioned store, when outside it was incredibly hot and humid: An intense, thick wave of magic energy swept around the two visitors the moment they stepped over the threshold. It was a mixture of all sort of malevolent workings, lusting spirits, sheer life force, elemental shields and bindings that kept the 'dark' longings in check - and interwoven with it, there was the Siren's own energy.

She held Maximos back for a moment, before they made another step forward into the room that, too, was pitch black first. He would hear the soft sound of a screw being worked. Then, just like it had happened earlier in the library, the surroundings slowly became visible when several glass lanterns started glowing. Not that Maximos wasn't able to gain an idea of the room's interior without any light, but she knew he would appreciate the special effect a second time, just as she did every time anew.

The stone walls of the room, which was around ten times ten feet, looked as though six single, large flat piece of slate had been turned into neatly fitting, anthracite pieces, a little uneven and rough here and there. For some reason, the walls were partly wet. Sometimes you even thought to hear a single drop of water falling to the ground, and in the far corners, a few seashells and barnacles bloomed, surrounded by locks of seaweed. None of this seemed to harm the books. Leather, fabric, paper and parchment - everything was dry. And that even though those books, about fifty to sixty of them, where fastened, no, chained to walls and ceiling. Some of them were hold with only three or four shackles, others almost completely covered in them. Upon a closer look, one had to realize that these chains didn't seem to be made of metal. The Shadow would recognize the same material of the Sirenic eshaton. Actually, many joints looked nothing more like slightly deformed pearls in all shades of the sea.

Closer to the back wall of the room there were three stone basins, each placed on a waist high pillar, filled to the brim with pearls. In front of the one in the middle, a fourth basin stood, full with water. This was where Lucind went to dip her still bleeding hand in it: upon pulling back, all cuts were gone.

She didn't turn around immediately. From the moment on she had stepped into the room, the Siren's whole aura had changed. All doubt was gone, although her heart was still beating fast - but now out of excitement and twisted pleasure. The room was reverberating with energy and magic will, enough to cause quite some havoc, to say the least. The woman was fully aware that she alone was given power with those books, power in a way that, if certain people in this region got notice about it, she would be persecuted by several human and non-human courts or councils. But bringing Maximos here made the situation most explosive.

And brought so much fun.

She could feel the tingling in her fingers, on her skin. The books were screaming, begging, demanding to be let free - some where fighting against their bonds to harm whoever came close enough.

And her soul was rejoicing, trembling with dark shudders.

When she turned around, a smirk had spread on her face, and she slowly loooked up at Max.

"Welcome, my love.


Any wishes concerning a...private handshake?"  

[Maximos]

She was so still, so silent, so distant she might almost seem lost. For most this might have been a reason for concern. Was she offended? Was she something worse? Silence could mean so very many things, or it could mean anything. But Maximos was unphased, his calm not in the slightest shaken.

Lucind's form may have been as still as night, but her mind certainly was not. Over her should Maximos was so close to her busy he mind could almost hear it, almost touch it. And in truth, it was both physical and mental that Maximos found so irresistible. Her thoughts always seemed to place a different angle, a different point of view on even the most cemented topics. A small comment and anything seemed new, especially now as she slowly but surely awakened into something so very new. Maximos imagined, her current thoughts were a beautiful thing and he found himself momentarily regretful that he hadnt the ability to read and experience them for himself.

And then, the moment continued and physical overtook mental.

"Always a gentleman..." A sigh. She shook her head, now standing in front of the Shadow. "You do know your manners."

Gently her hand found its way around him and slowly the two rose. Her fingers were so delicate, the change from the rough feel of a punch or the grip of a sword was wonderful. His fingers curled slightly inward to match the contours of her porcelain pale face. Mismatched eyes fell on hers, and then his glove was been peeled up and her lips gently touched his skin.

They say love is being able to give yourself to someone completely. Max could honestly have said that in that moment he did not mind if he never got that hand back. If it made her grin like that, it was hers.

"Well then, let's go and say hello." And it was hers as she led him. Maximos' own anticipation was enough to make the moment, the journey, no matter how small seem unbearably long. But all of this was made worse by the light show produced by Lucind's soul and the fluttering beat of her heart. She knew what was in this room and yet still she was so very excited, Max wondered if he would be able to contain his reaction at all. Possibilities swam through his mind.

Too fast, or maybe too slow, they were at a door. Lucind had suddenly become tense and quiet, adding a whole new level of intensity to the moment. Latches were being thrown, doors were opened into darkness and...Maximos did not know what he had been expecting, but it certainly was not this. Mops? Brooms? Cleaning supplies? There was very clearly something at the end of the hall, hinted by the stone wall with its faint arcane outline, and the lengths taken to hide the truth of the place...perhaps too well. The darkest collection of books in likely most of history...broom closet. It took everything in his power not to break out in deep long belly laughs. Lucind's seriousness restrained the entire rush of chuckles behind a grin that stretched ear to ear...save for maybe a few snickers. But even that vanished as an unnatural breeze carried the scent of fresh blood by his unsuspecting nose.

Max was no vampire, but if blood was involved, the situation demanded a healthy level of seriousness and respect. Flesh magic was the oldest and strongest kind there were and Lucind's involvement in it made him quite concerned. Suddenly there was a flash of cerulean, a burst of lines and shapes shining brilliant against the darkness. The magic formed an intricate web, a sort of tapestry of unspoken power. Max tried his very best to decipher it, but it was gone before he gathered anything more than a blurry concept. All that remained were the lines detailing the new door. And then it was time to move again and Max followed in respectful silence.

He would have walked fearlessly into the room if Lucind's hand had not stopped him. Crossing the threshold was like running into a solid thing. Maximos almost immediately gasped, there was arguably as much magic in the air, as air itself. His right arm, a hungry beast, was suddenly alive. It quivered at his side fighting against his control as it attempted in vain to thrash tear its way through the room. Even held down his fist opened wide and then closed, over and over, as if taking gulping starving breaths. Occasionally his finger twitched and spasmed like the long white legs of a trapped spider.. This place, so very rich in the arcane felt intensely different than Gaia proper, it felt like...home. Like Aria. Like a place populated with millions of beings all pumping out raw arcana should feel.

When it breathed, it was a deep lung full as if he had been holding his breath for decades, his head swirled for a moment and only then did he realize how very dark the room was. Slowly the pale natural lighting that filled the library proper began to permeate the room. There was something about this sort of light over the usual florescents that Maximos really liked. He assumed it was the way it only seemed to dimly move the shadows away, as opposed to casting them violently away in a sudden burst of white. Darkness was separated from light, but not banished.

Now, they were revealed. Like a cloth torn off a banquet, here were so very many tastey morsels. Slowly, the Shadow let his control slip, and carefully he stepped forward, scanning over book covers and titles. Some he could, some he could not. His right hand carefully rose and became still and compliant as it was allowed to taste...not feed, but taste. Malice. Rage. Pain. Fear. Hunger. Such powerful sentiments, such rich magics. Some of these tones were nothing more it seemed than the epitome of a single concept, dark or light regardless, such raw purity was an incredibly powerful thing. Maximos' senses were suddenly very sharp. Violet sparks danced between his fingertips and across his palm as he very gently ran a finger alone the chain binding yet another book.

"Welcome, my love." Her words stole him away from his reverie. His mismatched eyes fell on her with his right eye a stark white, glowing like a cigarette but in the dim light. Behind her in a bowl, and faintly tracing her hand was a sort of white magic, he might not have seen it before but at the moment his eye was hypersensitive to it all. Maximos was elated, his features made it almost look like he was in a daze, or heavily distracted. He fought to hear her voice when so many other pulls were tugging him in so many different directions and each one called to an instinct deep inside of him to his core, to feed. To hunt.

As opposed to letting his love and his hunger battle, Maximos used on to assist the other. A smooth sort of smile crossed his face making his teeth gleam. It was a smile that hinted he was up to something and yet gave no hint or scale as to how good or bad it might b e.

"Any wishes concerning a...private handshake?" She said, and without missing a beat Maximos responded. "Yes, actually."

He stepped forward gracefully, in no visible rush. His left gently touched her belly as he stepped beside and swooped behind her letting his long arm trace a path around her. The sparks dancing around his right arm had silently increased and then ignited into a very dull miasma, sort of like the opposite of a glow. The arm stood pinned at his side.

"You have so very many here, and you know them so much better than I. But out of all of these..."

And then his right arm rose, Max stepped around and beside Lucind, running his left arm up her back and across her shoulder were it patiently waited while his right fanned out across the room. "Will you show me your favorite?"

From their first encounter so soon after his resurrection, Max knew with undeniable certainty, Lucind had exquisite taste.  

[Lucind Varhetel]

She didn't notice in all details how Maximos got lost in the thick, heavy atmosphere the room emanated or how his arm reacted, but part of her felt it, while the other half, too, was intoxicated with the energy coming from the books restrained by the ship's soul. She had invited madness in creating a situation like this...and it made her feel drowsy, yet so alive she wasn't sure how to contain it. Every fiber of her body quivered, every corner of her soul vibrated and already did her mind sneak a peek here and there, brushed along the Shadow's more impetuously than usually since it couldn't resist running a quick check-up of the prisoners, like licking mental dew in order to see if any inmate had dared struggling against its shackles or otherwise tried to be "productive".

Lucind watched how Maximos stepped forward gracefully, in no visible rush. Yet, her reeling mind stole a second of her visual perceiption, and so the Shadow was a meter away in the one, right next to her in the next second. Her stomach muscles twitched at the unexpected touch, caught off guard and sending a shiver up the torso.

"You have so very many here, and you know them so much better than I. But out of all of these..."

And then his right arm rose, Max stepped around and beside Lucind, running his left arm up her back and across her shoulder were it patiently waited while his right fanned out across the room. "Will you show me your favorite?"


"...no."

She chuckled throatily.

"Not just like that." Turning her head, amber eyes squinted at him. "You always want to go directly for desert. Understandable. But...let's strain your patience by having an appetizer first." Here, her expression became positively provoking, yet not without a hint of tender banter, before she let her gaze wander along the walls and her features became thoughtful for a moment. Bat like ears, almost translucent at the tips, wiggled ever so slightly.

"You know, I guess I shouldn't have a favorite among these, like a mother. Love them all the same...but that's not true." Tilting her head back again, this time far enough it came to rest against Maximos' shoulder so that she could inspect the volumes at the ceiling. "So either I'm a mother feeding off of her children", she smirked, "or a dungeon keeper with a twisted sense of affection."

"Ah...there we go," she mumbled after her eyes had searched the titles above for another moment. Whispers of Seireneia rose from her lips, turned into aerial fingers that rattled the mother-of-pearl shackles, not to free but loosen them. And finally, still held by two or three threads, a book covered in brown leather, was slowly led down from the ceiling. In fact, it looked as though the pearly chains were growing out of the slate, longer and longer until they reached down to the Siren's chest. Leaving it there, she instead walked over to the water filled basin where she knelt down and reached around the pillar to pick up a wooden construction resting on a metal circle which, as it turned out, fit perfectly into the stone brim of said basin and the whole item was nothing but a make-shift lectern.

Glancing at Max, she then took the book, adding something else in her mother tongue which made the chains slide off of the volume - the moment this happened, most other books cried out in rage or disbelieve, but they fell silent soon, as if they had understood it wasn't one of their strongest mates that was beeing temporarily freed.
"We're safe with this here. Well, almost. A lovely thing it is. Not exactly the most lethal one among my special guests, but there's something to it I can't help being attracted to."

As mentioned before, the book was covered in brown leather, a reddish brown of fall leaves, and whoever had crafted the cover had put a lot of effort into it: There were plant like ornaments in all four corners and on the back and broad letters announced in an older version of Gaian common tongue Isaiha's Remedies. Upon flipping the book open on a random page, close to the middle, the sweet scent of herbs, hay and dried flowers reached their nose. The design of each page was simply beautiful, decorated with little ink drawings of different plants; the paper itself wasn't the same throughout the entire book, it contained tiny plant particles, rougher or finer fibers so that no page looked the same.

However, once the Shadow skimmed the text - Lu had stepped aside to offer a better view -, he would soon recognize that the content was not that innocent: Even though you heard about positive effects of all those plants, roots and mosses the chapters dealt with, they first and foremost informed you about how to win poisons out of them, how to combine different ingredients to even more deadly recipes.

"I find it really lovely."

"Also, what I found out soon after examining it is that..." A soft grin appeared on her face. "The book is poisonous itself. The longer you work with it, touch it, even smell it, the more it affects your nervous system.

Not within minutes - or at least the amount of poison we're taking in right now is not dangerous.
Normal cotton or synthetic material won't stop it, by the way, just slow down the process. Unfortunately, some of the herbs in there also have an addictive effect, so many people had a hard time getting away from using it. I'm sure there's a way to create gloves that could withstand the intrusion...especially since the poison does not just come from the pages themselves. The person I got the book from said that the effect was intensified by a plain spell - which I can't put my finger on, but I noticed the effect it had on my brain and mind definitely wasn't purely organic."

Once Maximos had seen enough, Lucind would bring the volume back: The chains that had almost completely retracted into the slate ceiling now grew back towards the floor, creating clicking and cracking noises, and, once the had reached the book that Lucind offered on her flat palm, they wrapped around it to take it with them, fixing it back to its usual place.
"So much for the appetizer."

"What about a delicious entree?"



Where Lucind had treated the first book with a visible softness and fondness, that twisted gleam in her eyes returned and Max could feel her pulse quickening as her shoulders and arms tensed and relaxed unconsciously.

Waiting for his reaction, the dark haired woman would then turn to face the wall to her right, and in the short span of time it took her to do so, her whole presence shifted once more, one step further towards that ocean dark and lethal state Maximos had only seen a couple of times so far. This time it didn't happen out of despair, however, but out of sheer will: She was bracing herself for handling a tome that was dangerous on a completely different level.

The second book Lucind unleashed was more than eager to gain freedom. To say it was dark said nothing and everything. But the fact that you could barely make out its design where it was fastened to the wall due to many, many chains holding it; the fact that even when the Siren broke the main seal, only a few bindings retreated to pass down the tome; the fact that all other books wouldn't stop protesting this time - and in the same way wished to combine their powers with that of the inmate which Lucind was now carrying towards the lectern, while several chains remained attached to it and new ones grew from the ceiling and floor, crawling up the pillar to connect to the book. All that made it clear, perfectly clear: this here was no toy for children. Not even for adults. Actually, nobody should become the playmate of this tome bound in dry, brittle leather that must've been black at one point, but was now covered with dirt and spots of all kind. Blood, likely, and other dried liquids one might not want to hear about before having had breakfast. Even less afterwards.

But by then, no, moments earlier - maybe even from the beginning -, the Shadow would recognize which title she had chosen: It was the tome whose pages were written with ink of blood and puss and sweat, whose last owner was consumed by it over years and years...which had killed every other living being around by simply touching its author.

"I still haven't figured out...," her voice sounded out coarse and distraced, while her mind couldn't help brushing along the book's aura, playing with it, teasing it. Of course, it didn't like it at all, and the results were fierce attacks, which the Siren blocked, one after another, while softly biting her lips in morbid awe.

"What is it? It's a curse, for sure. This book is evil...but..."

And slowly, she would open it, and the effect of walking into the forbidden room reoccured, in a different way, restricted to this book: The collected agony, torture, insanity, bloodlust of hundreds of years combined with unholy magic swooped up, running havoc, crashing and storming against the two persons who had dared waking it.

The handwriting changed every five to fifty pages, often barely readable, always written with blood. But it seemed what had been written was not that important - writing itself was what the tome wanted. Needed. The only way for it to survive. And that was what it demanded, shouted out loud: Write. Write in me. On me. All over me. Write. WRITE...!



From far away, Lucind's voice reached the Shadow's ears:

"I'm sorry, its rather a little rude, I fear. Once a month I feed it with blood. Not my own, mind you. But otherwise it would start falling apart quickly which...would be a shame really."

"Or what do you think?"  

[Maximos]

"...no."

His eyes widened, his face stretched to a curious smirk, and she chuckled throatily. It was a beautifully dark sound to hear, like the eerie gust of wind through the woods before a storm that told you something was coming...just not what.

"Not just like that." Turning her head, amber eyes squinted at him. Maximos' smirk stretched into an ear to ear grin.
"You always want to go directly for desert." She knew him so well. Could she blame him?
"Understandable." Of course not, he chuckled softly himself.
"But...let's strain your patience by having an appetizer first." Very dramatically the Shadow pulled the ends of his mouth down into an upside down crescent. Lucind, he trusted, knew him well enough to understand he'd never be so unappreciative so to pout.
"You know, I guess I shouldn't have a favorite among these, like a mother. Love them all the same...but that's not true." Tilting her head back again, this time far enough it came to rest against Maximos' shoulder so that she could inspect the volumes at the ceiling. Maximos' hands in turn slid down to her waist as his head craned up in the same direction as hers taking in the volumes, scanning them with the very many sights granted to his all too curious eye. Which one would she pick? That one looked particularly dark. That one however looked too bright, it was hiding something. And that...he just didnt quite know how to describe that one. Despite his hungering curiosity, Maximos would never be rude, and his attention never left her.
"So either I'm a mother feeding off of her children or a dungeon keeper with a twisted sense of affection." Maximos chuckled and immediately responded.
"Or both! Perhaps an affectionate mother who keeps her children in a dungeon? They say you always hurt the ones you love you know."
"Ah...there we go."

And then suddenly the hunt was back on, Lucind was whispering something in that sweetly melodic mother tongue of hers that Maximos did not even almost understand but enjoyed all the same. Now a book was descending from the ceiling. Maximos had to say that Lucind beyond the shadow of a doubt had a serious knack for showmanship. He did not doubt the fact that the pearls, and the worlds she spoke all had deeply significant meaning. And he did not in any way even almost believe the magics at work here were not older than himself and completely necessary, but even though the event was already grand something in the way Lucind presented it made it seem that much more so. Maximos was looking at a book descend and watching the Siren put together a make-shift podium, but he felt as if he was going to visit a King. It was, all in all, a wonderful experience. The outcry from the other books, or rather, the spikes in essence and aura only made the presentation that much more complete. And then Lucind was speaking, and Maximos dared not do anything but listen.

"We're safe with this here. Well, almost. A lovely thing it is. Not exactly the most lethal one among my special guests, but there's something to it I can't help being attracted to." She was right, as raw magic went this one was in comparison dull, and yet it still had a life of its own, and a hint of something to it...something unseen beneath the surface. Maximos peered at it deeper as she continued. Isaiha's Remedies, and it smelled delicious, almost like tea. Maximos' hand reached out for it and as Lucind stepped aside, he kindly and smoothly filled the space she left behind.

He let his right hand run over each page, not devouring, just tasting and testing. Not reading the pages, but the books energies. At first, he recognized a few herbs, and even thought he may recognize a concoction or two from research for his shop but...there was something more here. He had never imagined combining these this way. Even herbs he thought were entirely innocuous he saw being used in only the most dastardly of ways. He flipped farther and faster, gentle and yet expedient, scanning each page with a wicked grin across his face.

"I find it really lovely."
"Its astonishing." He replied, almost with a gasp, never looking up from the pages. "Isaiha seems to have found some of the very most lovely ways to remedy an individual...of their life."
"Also, what I found out soon after examining it is that..." A soft grin appeared on her face. Maximos could almost hear the hinting edge in her voice, his hand stopped cold on the page he had reached. "The book is poisonous itself. The longer you work with it, touch it, even smell it, the more it affects your nervous system. "

The page slipped from his hand. She said they were safe, but safe is a point of view isnt it? He could still walk and talk fine so he had to be at least that safe. But curiously Maximos seemed to be examining his fingers. Twiddling them before his face as she continued her explanation, and when she finished he turned to her with a smirk and said.

"So that explains why my fingers are numb." A poison agent, and then an accentuating smell, so that was the magic he tasted. Interesting! Maximos skimmed another few pages before closing the volume and meeting Lucind's eyes with a smile. While he dare not say it, his eyes asked if he had been patient enough yet.

"So much for the appetizer. What about a delicious entree?" Maximos' only response was a grin that split his face in two. Lucind turned and as she moved to the next tome she seemed to harden, and darken. Not visibly and yet, very visibly to Maximos' trained eye. She was suddenly dark and deadly, as if she were preparing for battle. Maximos wondered if they would have to fight, should he have his sword drawn?

Chains bound the chosen book so tightly that only flecks and glimpses leaked through, but they were enough. He knew that book. He knew it as if the memory he had seen was his own. His fingers wriggled and thrashed like five individual hungry limbs waiting for a taste of something truly delicious a rare one of a kind delicacy. This...was darkness, true as it came. The audience, was going wild. For a moment, Max felt like one of them. Hungry and waiting, bound by his manners, unable to partake. They say you cannot judge a book by its cover and yet this books cover spoke of murder, gore, and pain, he felt its cover spoke rather clearly of its contents.

"I still haven't figured out...," He could even see the books own black aura lashing out at Lucind as her own toyed with it. Her mental defenses were as spot on as always, Max almost envied her that ability. Maximos stood opposite the podium, across from Lucind.

"What is it? It's a curse, for sure. This book is evil...but..."
"Well then, lets see if..." Maximos' hand moved almost automatically to slid along the brittle cover while it was in reach, it stung at his fingertips, and yet the sensation rolled from pain to a tingly warmth that ran down his spine.

And then the book opened. The collected agony, torture, insanity, bloodlust of hundreds of years combined with unholy magic swooped up, running havoc, crashing and storming against the two persons who had dared waking it. The emotions the raw sensation pounded in his skull and then, all at once the storm focused, every individual emotion a piece of a whole voice that said.

Write! Write!

Max heard the voice seep through his mind like water seeps through stone, or like roots crawl through soil. He had mental defenses of course, though not at all like Lucind's. Maximos was no psychic, in his mind were fragments of lost souls. Millions of damned souls working in unison as on solitary metal wall, or in fragments as a thousand pieces of jagged glass one had to wade through. To one invading Maximos' mind each fragment was like a channel. And the channels kept changing, over and over faster than a blink. To control his mind you either to have a key in...like Lucind, or you had to be able to forcibly seize control of each channel as they switched. Over and over, wrestling control of nearly 3 million different fragments.

And thats precisely what it was doing. Whether it was simply so powerful, or whether the hungry siv that was his arm's devouring nature that cut through the defenses around the book, with every heartbeat the voice was louder and louder.

WRITE. WRITE. WRITE.

Maximos' eyes shifted from intently focused, to slightly hazy. He saw the book but he did not see the words or the emotions anymore, he only saw himself writing in it. It would feed his unbreakable arm delicious magicks such as it had never tasted before, and he would feed it beautiful words. Dark. Old. Magick words that only shadows spoke. Words of power. Words of fear. Words of darkness. Words that were never meant to be shared.

"I'm sorry, its rather a little rude, I fear. Once a month I feed it with blood. Not my own, mind you. But otherwise it would start falling apart quickly which...would be a shame really."

WRITE! WRITE! WRITE!

"Or what do you think?"

Lucind's voice was a whisper on the wind, his fingers were already curling to accommodate a pen. Blackness swirled between his fingertips and made a pure ebony writing utensil and began lowering it to the page. She had ended her sentence in a question, he knew that. Somewhere in his mind an unbreakable core of gentlemanly training said he should respond. With glossed over eyes and a desperate, almost needy voice Maximos answered her, lowering his hand to the page and beginning to form his first letter of something truly horrible.

WRITE! WRITE! WRITE!

"Write...write...write..."  

[Lucind Varhetel]

"No."


Should she have seen it coming? Had she been inconsiderate, she couldn't help herself asking when she watched how he gradually lost focus, his eyes hazy, and his mind sucked into the books wicked inner workings.

She had wanted to treat him by showing the book had had been so fascinated of during the psionic memory slide show outside this room. But now it seemed the Shadow would have become just another prey of the lusting book had he been alone with it. Or would the outcome be different? Maybe he would master it by first subjecting himself to this horrifying artifact. What cruelities couldn't spring forth from such a pact. But if not, if he couldn't withstand...

Lucind felt her voice was still reaching him, as his fingers were already curling to accommodate a pen. Blackness swirled between his fingertips and made a pure ebony writing utensil and began lowering it to the page.

Dangerous games...we're playing...

With glossed over eyes and a desperate, almost needy voice Maximos answered her, lowering his hand to the page and beginning to form his first letter of something truly horrible. But not paper was what the tip of the pen connected with.

"No."

It was resolut, but not patronizing. Not in the meaning of, "No my dear, now is not the time to play", but a no saying, "I won't let this happen. I won't let you run into this trap when I can't predict the result."

And so, with a quick, fluid movement, the Siren, standing almost opposite of Maximos, the basin between them, would slip her palm in between pen and book, which meant she had to touch the parchment. Lucind furrowed her brows when the book leashed out at her even more frantically, hating her for trying to hold the Shadow back - and she knew Max likely wouldn't welcome her move either. But she didn't waste a second. Even while placing her hand under the pen, she moved around the basin to take his free hand before it could follow up and try to fill a page instead of its brother.

The Siren wasn't pulling Maximos away from the book, she was, literally and psychically, squeezing herself between her love and the tome, lifting both his hands with hers, if necessary intertwining their fingers and gripping his wrist to hold him back, being ready to fight against his mind telling him to write by pushing her aside.

And so, as fast as possible, Lucind forced her will between that of the book and the Shadow's captured senses, bit by bit blocking the tome's urging voice. Words of Seireneia echoed through the room once more, and the chains became alive. The book was closed.

A fine layer of sweat glistened on the Siren's temples and above her lips, when the volume was finally lifted to the ceiling.

"..."  

[Maximos]

What was really happening here? In a moments notice what was a seemingly simple game of show and tell had spiraled drastically out of control. This was Chaos. But some may argue that chaos is nothing more than an order not understood by those present. Maximos may have been lost. Lucind may end up alone, hurt, or worse and what were the ramifications to the Shadow's already unbalanced psyche if such a thing were to happen? Would it be worse that it was all by his hand? And while this outwardly appeared to be a bad thing...wasnt that just a point of view? If you subtracted the emotions of those present from the occasion, the situation took on an entirely different shape.

This arm would be far more difficult to destroy. Its owner would be much more enduring. And as he survived he would fill its pages with dark and ancient shadow script. And then, inexorably a contest would arise. Would Maximos be slain? Or would the paladin of Nocturne fill its pages with so much arcana that he would claim the nightmare tome for the Lord Of All Nightmares? What horrors would follow when its immeasurable evil blessed the hands of the eternally dark god? Could Maximos hope to stand against the Father of Shadow's will?

"No."

Maximos was not one to take commands but her words struck him with an almost tangible force. His body jerked backwards a step as if forcibly shoved away, for a moment Maximos' eyes left the tome and fell on Lucind. For a flash, for little more than an instant something in those mismatched orbs hinted at recognition, as if the glaze had faded and for a split second he saw Lucind. And he looked confused. But if the Shadow had anything, he had willpower and he had it in spades...even if it was not his own. His taller form pressed forward again, his right hand reached out again a perfectly formed black metal fountain pen in hand. No, not soft edged ball point kind but the kind with an edge like a knife. But it was not paper the tip of the pen connected with.

"No."

But this time she would feel the assault thud off of Maximos' mind like a baseball bat thuds against a rubber tire. Loud, but ultimately ineffective. Maximos' movements were strong, and yet lethargic, he did what he did with force but did it with no perceivable life lacking the smooth fluidity that befit their owner.

"No my dear, now is not the time to play", but a no saying, "I won't let this happen. I won't let you run into this trap when I can't predict the result." Maximos' hand stirred against hers, writing even as she held herself between it and the page. The book lashed out and it seemed, as if he was an extension of its terrible force Maximos' own aura shoved itself against her. A hungry, primal thing, the face and spirit of a monster.

The pressure of a sharp pen may sting, but the actual mark left by Maximos' still moving, still writing, hand would burn. The black lunaic words immediately attempted to seep into her skin, instead of resting atop it. Sort of like a tattoo.

Just as soon as one hand was captured, the snapped to life. It moved like a marionette, his fingers rose awkwardly on invisible strings and curled inward. Between his digits blackness began taking shape, and then suddenly her hand found his. Their fingers intertwined and snuffed out whatever was about to be formed.

The realization was slow, but the moment it dawned on the lumbering Shadow that his hands were not doing what they were supposed to, but were instead held up between him and Lucind there was an immediate change in his demeanor. All at once his face contorted from drull and focused, to something fiercer and darker. His mismatched eyes met hers with frightening intensity and clarity of purpose. She would be able to see his pupils, at the center of both eyes, begin to twitch and warble like overstuffed water balloons threatening to break. His lips pulled back over his teeth and a sound like a snarl came from deep in his throat.

Where moments ago her fingers were intertwined with his unwilling, now his hand began to squeeze hers. Slowly, like thunder rolling steadily across the horizon he began to exert force, both hand shoving into hers in a sort of odd arm wrestle. Maximos' eyes were clear, and yet still perceived nothing. They saw, but were blinded by an uncontrolled and unexplained fiery rage. It was as if the thought of moving her aside hadnt even entered his mind. His right arm pushed harder than his left, almost trying to shove hers backwards and to the page. He had every intention of writing through her.

Maximos was overcome. His senses were drowned in an all too familiar killer instinct. His breaths were deep and gasping, starving breaths of a man who had never tasted air before. The urge to write was an agonizing fire, and he knew nothing but to satisfy the need. This was not the first time Lucind had stared down the Destroyer.

And so, as fast as possible, Lucind forced her will between that of the book and the Shadow's captured senses, bit by bit blocking the tome's urging voice. Words of Seireneia echoed through the room once more. Her soft words were cool water over searing hot coals. Lucind and the soft Seireneia was the music playing in the background. The music that slowly but surely steals away your concentration and focus until it is all you can hear. It embraced him like ocean waves and bore him along softly and gently away from a dark place he did not ever remember entering. And the chains became alive. The book was closed. All at once it was all gone.

Maximos blinked. And then blinked again. The fire in his eyes was gone as was the haze, all that remained was confusion. He blinked again, and this time his eyes truly met hers and the pose they were currently placed in. Before a third blink he felt the sharpness of his teeth with his tongue and knew exactly what danger signified. Maximos hurriedly backed away, his form a momentary blur.

"Oh..." He said, looking at the stained pen in his hand. The memory rushed back in a flash and the pen fell to the floor. "Oh, by Nocturne, Lucind I'm so sorry...I..."

He moved to step forward and then suddenly stopped, he pulled his right hand back to his chest, holding it with his left. His fingers opened and closed in sync with his breaths, as if the hand was tasting the air itself. The book was away...but it knew where...Maximos was sorry, but they had both played with the proverbial fire, this sort of thing was bound to happen. Now wasnt the time to admit that it was a bit thrilling, now was better spent reassessing the situation.

"I...need to be more careful." He said, taking another step away from the Siren. His eyes fell to his hand stared at it intensely as it "breathed". And then slowly the breath faded and Maximos looked up at the Siren, a fine layer of sweat glistened on the Siren's temples and above her lips.

"..."
"Thats twice now, I sincerely hope this isnt going to be a habit whenever a dangerous book enters our lives."

Maximos ventured a smirk. His teeth raked across his bottom lip. From observing him, she would know it was not a nervous gesture so much as a thoughtful one. He was planning something, his left hand still holding his right. His eyes seemed to be scanning the room for something, and then finally he spoke up, gesturing to one of the bound books with his left as he said, "May I borrow a length of that chain?"  

[Lucind Varhetel]

What was happening? A good question.

Each of them was sorry, but at the same time...

He was close, so close, losing control and consciousness. Transforming. Snarling.

Hello monster.

He was strong, slowly pushing her arms back, making her bend backwards and affording her to hasten with guiding the chains to retrieve the book, because would she be pressed down on the tome it became extremely difficult to remove it.

His eyes, his aura, his teeth. She leaned in, holding his gaze until the moment their cheeks almost touched. His breaths were deep and gasping, right next to her ear, starving breaths of a man who had never tasted air before. The urge to write was an agonizing fire, and he knew nothing but to satisfy the need. The smallest smirk spread on her face, Lucind felt thoughts popping up at the edge of her mind that were rather unappropriate for a moment like this. It was as he would constitute for himself in another minute: Now wasn't the time to admit that it was a bit thrilling... The stinging pain on her palm and the strain from standing between book and man didn't allow her losing focus.

And then, the book and its lure was gone, and Maximos blinked, retreated. Her hands followed his, only letting go when he got out of reach.
"Oh, by Nocturne, Lucind I'm so sorry...I..." Slowly, she shook her head. "I...need to be more careful." He said, taking another step away from the Siren.

"We need to be more careful." She smiled, her eyes fixed on his before they wandered down to see his teeth raking across the bottom lip.

"..." Before a blush had fully bloomed on her face, she turned around to remove the lectern from the basin to then dip her left hand into the water.

"That's twice now, I sincerely hope this isn't going to be a habit whenever a dangerous book enters our lives."

She chuckled and looked back over her shoulder: "Only if we stop asking for trouble."

When Maximos asked if he could use one of the pearly chains, Lucind nodded and upon her word, a new one sprouted from the floor. The growth would stop after the chain was around four feet long. "Is that enough?"

Watching him proceeding to restrain his arm - at least that is what she expected -, the Siren finally raised her left to look at her palm. The minor wound from the pen's sharp tip was gone. "Speaking about trouble: Am I in some now?" With that, she stretched out her arm to show the Shadow that the words he had written on her skin were still there.


After letting him examine her hand and hearing whatever diagnose he had to give, Lucind fell quiet for a moment, frowning. Then her eyes searched for his.

"Do you...want to go on? You asked me to show you my favorite book. And I'd love to do so. But I fear you might not find as attractive as the last one.

Yet, on me it will probably have an effect similar to what happened to you just now."  

[Maximos]

"Only if we stop asking for trouble." Maximos paused, he seemed to be dolefully considering this for a moment. His hand actually even moved to his chin, and rubbed it in deep consideration. And then, after the sort of pause that almost always followed a deep and meaningful response Maximos said. "Well then. We're quite doomed."

And then Maximos grinned and laughed lightly, and continued with his previous request. It appeared, while Maximos dare not venture too deep into the sea of the woman's soul, that she wasnt as upset with the occurrence as he might have imagined. And then, Lucind nodded and upon her word, a new one sprouted from the floor. The growth would stop after the chain was around four feet long. "Is that enough?"

"More than, actually. Thank you dear." The walls sprouting chains, Maximos had to say, was a wonderful touch. It added this sense of uncertainty to the entire situation. If he had gone too far out of control, would she have summoned chains to bind him as well? What else could be bled from the stone? The mystery of it all fascinated him to no end, so his grin stretched rather wide as he reached down to pluck the chain from the ground. He wondered if it would come free of its own accord or if he would have to tug it loose like a weed.

With a soft pop, the buttons on the wrist of his jacket sleeve were loosened and the length of cloth was pulled up to about his elbow. Wet splotches of black very clearly stained the white bandage in various shades of gray and pitch. Maximos didnt plan to restrain his arm persay, so much as...limit it. Originally he imagined a bracelet, but this was likely safer. Max took the chain and pinched an end with his thumb, and then coiled it down his right arm to his elbow, and back bringing the opposite end to meet the first end being held by his thumb. There was a spark of black and the two ends were met in a loop. The miasma of black swirling around his arm just moments ago immediately degraded into a thin black warbling skin over the cursed limb. Almost immediately the chains were stained a midnight black, transitioning from pears to obsidian in a moments notice.

As Maximos began rolling his sleeve back down, Lucind began to speak. He lift his head, meeting her eyes as he fixed his sleeve blind. "Speaking about trouble: Am I in some now?"

With that, she stretched out her arm to show the Shadow that the words he had written on her skin were still there. Maximos' lips flattened into a tight line, and his brow furrowed slightly. A single symbol could be deadly. What had he wrought? He stepped forward, extending his left hand and sliding it under hers, softly guiding her hand toward him as he in turn stepped toward her. His mismatched eyes met her hand with all the intensity of an aged palm reader. His left thumb traced the lines carefully, but he didnt speak. Bad, good, he didnt say.

And then his right hand moved, hovering over hers with its fingers outstretched. The mark, tattooed into her skin began to slither and squirm and then all at once peeled off her palm. The word, the symbol, the rune, hovered her hand and in the space between both palms, and then his bandaged fingers moved forward closing around it. His fingertips dragged along her palm, as cold as ice. Maximos' eyes finally returned to hers, something of his old smile had returned but it was tempered with a mote of seriousness.

"You should be fine." He said, pulling his right hand away and pinching her fingers with his left hand, bringing her palm up as he lowered his face to plant a kiss where the mark once lay.

"But, if you have any odd dreams, tell me immediately." Then her eyes searched for his, search ending in success as soon as it began. Lucind spoke, and Maximos listened.

"Do you...want to go on? You asked me to show you my favorite book. And I'd love to do so. But I fear you might not find as attractive as the last one." Maximos cocked an eyebrow, his grin skewing in an trademark wicked twist. He was so hoping she'd ask. Doom, and death should never come between these two and fun.

"Yet, on me it will probably have an effect similar to what happened to you just now." His grin automatically split until a full set of white teeth glinting pale in the strange light, were visible. Remembering their momentary confrontation, ideas swirled in Maximos' mind that were likely not proper to actually say. He stepped forward, shrinking the distance between them, but yet still holding Lucind's hand in between both of his own as if it were a most delicate piece of art. His right hand still cold as death. "Lucind, my dear, I dont believe I could say no to such an offer, even if I tried."  

[Lucind Varhetel]

Watching with growing curiosity, Lucind observed how he removed the letters from her palm.

"You should be fine." He said, pulling his right hand away and pinching her fingers with his left hand, bringing her palm up as he lowered his face to plant a kiss where the mark once lay.

"But, if you have any odd dreams, tell me immediately."

Here, she laughed softly. "I always have weird dreams...!" She remembered explaining him that with her special abilities her brain and mind transformed experiences or memories in a different way. Ever since she became a full blood the effect had increased: She did dream, but many dreams weren't ruled by her subconscious but she could guide them. Therefore, a part of her mind never slept, was on constant stand-by, often to receive information from the lhor aven while she was fast asleep.
But now, Lucind knew Maximos was hinting at a different kind of weird dreams, which is why she nodded. "I'll let you know."


Then she asked if she should go on, and even though it would have surprised her to hear a no from him, she kept her eyes locked with his just some seconds longer, not really sure what she was waiting for - if anything, she maybe sought to procrastinate what would follow for the tiniest moment. Because she knew the next step was crucial. It would mean giving in, not completely, but giving in to an extent that would have made her feel ashamed only a few weeks ago, for she had never been able to admit how attracted she was to the raw, unfiltered power the mothers emanated. It had called to her very essence - and she knew it was not very different with other Sirens, still, rarely ever did they went astray from their rather modern, "civilized" way of conduct. People were suspicious of Sirens, scared even. But they had no idea what could happen if all of them on this planet decided to return to their original state...

She blinked. Only now Lu realized she had been staring at one of the basins behind the one filled with water. In the dim underwater light, the pearls reaching up to the brim softly gleamed in cascades of blue, grey and pink. Suddenly, she felt extremely warm as her pulse began quickening again. With every step towards the basin on the left, her mouth became drier, her knees felt weak.

This is ridiculous... Why am I scared stiff of what I want most?

The Siren didn't even notice she had mumbled those words instead of only thinking them.

When her hands came to rest on the basin's brim, she hesitated another moment, before she finally slid both hands into the mass of pearls. From the bottom, she carefully dug up a book not as large as the previous one, but thicker. However, its true appearance was yet hidden by a white shawl wrapped around it: Embroideries in faded green ran all over it, depicturing words in a rare dialect from Gaias North-West. Maybe the Shadow was not able to read them, but he would definitely see the clerical spells bound to the fabric, shielding the book not only from sight, but also preventing whatever power it held from emanating directly throughout the room.

Turning around, the book in her hand, Lucind realized she had forgotten to put the lectern back in place, therefore her eyes asked Max to do that for her, so that she could lay down the tome.

Even harder did her heart beat against her throat than when they had entered the room, now that she was undoing a thread that held the shawl in place. She knew her hands were trembling, but she could only stare at the book - and when she had removed the cloth enough to reveal the cover - dark green leather, eroded brass decoration and a single, squiggly 'A' stamped into the leather -, the Siren let out a shuddering breath.

This book was different than the two before. It was neither black nor white. But it reeked of forbidden power. To be precise, it smelled of knowledge and a not so moral magical working that held it all together. What had barely been hidden by the shawl now became apparent: Souls were bound to it, not by a curse, but voluntarily. Souls of dead people, lingering in a place where they probably did not belong. Sleeping souls.

Hundreds of them.


"I stumbled upon this by chance," she began to explain, her voice coarse and feeble. Several years ago, while traveling the South of Gaia, following a clan mission. A Bedouin sold it to me for a pearl necklace and my complete stock of Northern herbs. I...am not sure, but I think he had an idea what the book really was, because he said something about not becoming lured again when it is my position to lure...weird man. But frankly, it nearly killed me holding myself back from opening it during my travel back. I knew I would not be able to handle it, but just...the taste of it drove me insane."

Her fingers gently ran along the edge of the cover.

"It stood for all I could not be.

All I secretly wanted to be - only that at that time I was far away from realizing."

She lingered on her memory for a while, before, without any further ado, she opened the book.

An outburst of thoughts and memories exploded from empty pages, crashing against Max and Lu, hundreds of voices, old and young, male and female, all kind of races, all sort of languages - they all spoke at once, whispering, explaining, arguing, asking, pleading, suggesting...

And the souls had awakened from their slumber, as if flipping open the tome shed cold light on imaginary eyes.

Hunched over the lectern, Lucind closed her eyes, new sweat appearing on her forehead. A few seconds after the mental tide had assaulted Maximos' mind, it was gone, since she had forced all attention on herself. She slumped fowards, her arms bracing her torso. Her soul fluttered in anxiety for a split second - before it became still. Deadly still. And then: deadly.

Not deadly as in dark and evil. Or let's say, not evil as in classic 'demon from hell'-stories.

Lucind's soul bloomed in the color of the ocean's abyss and developed a sickening gravitation that made faint hearted people leave the docks, even though those people had no idea why, but they felt something bad would happen to them if they gave in the urge to stay, to get closer to...to whatever spot they were unconsciously drawn to. Even before the human part of the Feiruza crew could ask for a break, Prishazan sent them to buy food, frowning into the direction of the library.

The water right around the threemaster began to form waves, not too strong, since the secret room's walls still protected the world outside from most of the powers inside, but the Shadow would feel how the ship swayed from one side to the other, ever so softly. Every now and then, he could hear water gurgling right beneath the hull.


"Now, now....what do you have for me today?"

Where she had looked as though she was about to pass out, the Siren had straightened. Her hands slid over parchment that was empty. In fact, none of the pages were filled with any kind of handwriting. Not even a trace of a scribble. But to the non-human eye, the tome revealed itself to be filled with entry upon entry, manifested through spiritual traces directly leading to each soul connected to the book.

"They're called seekers, an order that lives to unravel the secrets of this world...and others."

Was she talking in common tongue or Seireneia? It was hard to tell, as well was the direction from where her voice was coming. Sometimes it would seem as if she sounding right within Maximos' head, then as if she standing behind or next or in front of him.

And as a reaper, Max should be able to make out all those souls, all of them equiped with a thirst for knowledge that made them true Faustian brothers. Some of them were not even born on this planet...

The Siren's fingers traced the invisible messages, directly linking to one of those souls: Some were eager to share what they knew, others terrified of her approach - those were hold in place until she had tasted enough of their memories. Maybe the initial idea of dedicating one's soul to this tome was immortality, but after almost thousand years, some could only hold on to one single wish: being free, going to whatever heaven they believed in. If they still had the right to. But so far, each entry of the book still had its origin in one of those sould - Lucind had kept them all "in" the book. And stopping by this or that soul, she worked her way through time and space, thus using the book to milk the remnants of those seekers, an enraptured, yet absent-minded expression on her face telling she was not really looking at the pages, but at all those forbidden, unholy, or dangerous little secrets.



Until suddenly her head was jerked up and to the side. Somebody tried to interrupt her.

Max would see that it was the ship itself, no, the Vikra, the water spirit residing in Prishazan's body that lashed out at the Siren - with the result that Lucind hissed something in her mother tongue, her upper lip revealing her teeth, something cold and almost deridingly. Maybe he couldn't understand her words per se, but for whatever reason, the meaning was very obvious:

Don't you dare touching me.

Maybe I can't protect these books from drowning - but do you think you could protect your host from me?

The ship fell silent.

I didn't think so.


The light in the room had darkened, and the pull coming from Lucind's soul increased bit by bit.
For a moment it seemed Lucind wanted to go back to "reading", when suddenly, her eyes found Maximos'.

But only for a second did she see him, before her gaze switched back to her version of a soul sight: Connected to the lhor aven, both visions overlapped, so that for her, the individually shaped water ribbon that was Maximos' soul stood right in front of her, blurring his physical appearance.

"...so...so..."

Slowly, she walked over to him.  

[Maximos]

Here, she laughed softly. "I always have weird dreams...!" This was a humor Maximos simply could not return. He had not forgotten her connection or the unique way in which her mind endlessly worked. It was precisely that connection that he feared for. First hand did he know of the horrors of the child god. First hand had he felt his restful night hours turned against him, trapping him in monstrous vision after vision, warping, twisting and churning what he was. His mind had been the devil's plaything and he would not allow the same fate to befall her. He did not frown, and he did not scowl. Maximos did not show any outward negativity except that in the face of her levity, his face was an unmoving, and somewhat solid mask. The ends of his mouth twitched at an attempted smile...but the attempt never became more than just that, an attempt.

But now, Lucind nodded and said. "I'll let you know." And Maximos' smile sliced its way across his face yet again.

Lucind, if he put her personality and beauty aside and focused solely on her, she was a magnificently unique creature. Perhaps not completely alone in that there were others of her kind, but still unique in her own right. The Shadow for one had a way of working his mind until it simply burnt out, and then sleeping for extended periods of time until it was restored. Lucind's mind never truly slept. At all times she multitasked, at all times she managed so much...it was beyond fascinating.

And it was that very fascination that made the smile on Maximos' face split when he caught her very powerful mind entirely, and yet absentmindedly, locked on one of the basins. He wasnt sure until she blinked and he saw the recognize click in her eyes, but when he was sure he chuckled ever so softly to himself. He knew she would hear, but perhaps the effort in trying to not laugh so loudly would yet still be appreciated.

Lucind was moving now, each step was a meaningful pace in an endless march. Maximos could see the bowl, he could see the glimmer of the pearls, he understood and appreciated its beauty...but at the same time he knew he was missing something truly amazing. There was something here that shook her, something vast and amazing, and it was just beyond his grasp.

"This is ridiculous... Why am I scared stiff of what I want most?"
Arent we all?

Maximos thought back to himself, but he said nothing. Lucind was growing, she was maturing and gradually filling the skin she was born in. This was not something she could be lead through, she had to come to certain realizations and overcome certain boundaries all on her own. For this reason, Maximos did not attempt to answer her but instead silently followed a few steps behind her.

Fear, trepidation, the air was rife with it. When her hands came to rest on the basin's brim, she hesitated another moment. Maximos watched with eager anticipation from a few paces behind, wondering if she would or could actually do it. And then she finally slid both hands into the mass of pearls. From the bottom, she carefully dug up a book not as large as the previous one, but thicker. The tome was beautiful outwardly, someone had taken great care in its construction. It bore words and symbols that while Maximos did not immediately find legible, he realized he could. He did not know these tongues but he knew similar tongues likely all related to base tongues and with time he might have been able to translate and yet...he imagined that the words in this book had little to do with its importance and he did not try.

The book was like a doorway with a light behind it, in a very dark hallway. There were clerical spells and arcana that bound the book, but hints of its power show through the seems of the door frame. The light was never enough to illuminate the hallway, and never enough to reveal where the light came from and how, just that it was there...and it teased. To say he was curious, was to say the ocean was "a little wet".

Turning around, the book in her hand, Maximos had the image of waitress with a too huge order balancing on a tray in her hand. The book was not too large for Lucind, the Siren was plenty strong and yet her mannerisms and the way in which she signaled for his assistance with her eyes, not her hands or mouth, as if such things would tip the tray and send her crashing to the ground a mess. Despite his curiosity as to what would happen if he did not, Maximos moved to set the podium back in its proper place. He found that it stung his right hand to touch it, it was like drinking salt water. He attested this to the pearls and then dismissed it as soon as his Siren began to approach.

Her heart was beating so hard that he could hear it, and Maximos did not possess super human hearing. Her breaths came out ragged, her hands were shaking and yet were locked on the book as if her very next moment depended on its release. And then it was released, a beautiful thing, and she let out a shuddering breath. He knew that sound. Maximos immediately saw himself a few weeks previous, he remembered with sharp clarity the way he had tasted so many a soul and how every inch of his flesh burned for the spark of essence and the elation that followed. And when he had it, he breathed that breath exactly. Part of him wanted to help her. A greater part of him told him to stay back and observe. Maximos' right arm moved across his chest his left, resting on his right, adjusted his glasses and then cupped his chin. A faint spark of white came from his right eye, glowing like the dying embers of a flame.

This book was different than the two before. It was neither black nor white. But it reeked of...something. Maximos had never seen an energy like this before. The glow from his eye increased, then shrunk, it even changed colors to faded violet and a blue, but still nothing. And then he saw them. Souls. Lucind might not have noticed but Maximos' entire form became rigid, the smile on his face flattened momentarily into a sharp line. Souls should not be in books. Souls should be, at all costs, entered into the cycle of life and death. What Maximos was staring, he immediately recognized as exactly the sort of thing he was employed to destroy. This, was a violation.

Maximos stepped forward, just a single step at first. His hands peeled off his chest slowly, his thoughts began to turn toward his scythe. It was never far, one thought and it was in his hands. One swing and the book was finished. And then mid-motion he stopped.

Something was missing here. There were no screams, no howls of injustices, none of these souls was burning with the stink of necromancy. No dark magics were at work here...these souls were imprisoned voluntarily. Like a noodle in hot water, the stiffness of Maximos' form melted away. His arms, partially off his chest laid back to their resting positions, his eye dimmed to a dull ignition. His thoughts moved from his scythe, to her. As a wise man once said; Damnation is a choice. Judgment had already been cast on these hundreds.

"I stumbled upon this by chance," she began to explain, her voice coarse and feeble. She was pushing herself to the limits, and Maximos guiltily was curious what they were. "Several years ago, while traveling the South of Gaia, following a clan mission. A Bedouin sold it to me for a pearl necklace and my complete stock of Northern herbs. I...am not sure, but I think he had an idea what the book really was, because he said something about not becoming lured again when it is my position to lure...weird man."

The Shadow pondered this for a moment. It was not the first time had heard of an ancient and powerful thing being held by a seemingly clueless and innocuous seller and sold for something far less than its value. Many had met them, and yet he had not. In a moment, Maximos wondered if he was destined to come across such a man in his time. And then, as his thoughts flitted to his shop and back, Maximos realized with no small amusement that the answer was no. He was destined to become such a man.

"But frankly, it nearly killed me holding myself back from opening it during my travel back. I knew I would not be able to handle it, but just...the taste of it drove me insane."

Her fingers gently ran along the edge of the cover. The back of his mind, Maximos noted that it was nearly killing her now. He wondered if she would be able to handle it. Would he meet his first Mad Siren?

"It stood for all I could not be. All I secretly wanted to be - only that at that time I was far away from realizing."

Maximos nodded solemnly in memory of her self-imposed moral yolk. She seemed to linger on that memory for a while, and then like ripping off a bandage in one pass, or diving head first into a cold pool, she opened the book.

An outburst of thoughts and memories exploded from empty pages, crashing against Max and Lu, hundreds of voices, old and young, male and female, all kind of races, all sort of languages - they all spoke at once, whispering, explaining, arguing, asking, pleading, suggesting...And suddenly he understood. The power he had seen earlier and not recognized was this. Not life, but knowledge, knowledge pooled together supernaturally in such a pure concoction that it manifested itself energetically. The souls had awakened from their slumber. Maximos wanted to hear them, he wanted in some deep and overly curious part of his mind to question each one. He felt, almost, as if that was there purpose. And yet he could not. The wave crashed on his mind, and the walls of his consciousness stood, even against his curiosity. He felt them like numb whispers, filtered and distant too far to be touched or tasted or sampled.

He understood now what Lucind had meant. This book was appetizing, but the way in which he would have hungered for it would have been a waste. Maximos could have eaten these souls like grapes off a vine and with each grape swallowed the knowledge it held would have been snuffed out. Eventually he would grow tired of grapes or of the high, and the book would be useless. So much knowledge wasted but for a being in tune with the thoughts and minds of so many...

Hunched over the lectern, Lucind closed her eyes, new sweat appearing on her forehead. He heard the voices fade, he saw that new essence, pur knowledge focused on her. She had forced all attention on herself. It was a desperately difficult effort. The weight of her mind taxed her body and left her hanging the make-shift stand like a marionette with its strings cut. Maximos watched, like watching a foreign movie with no subtitles, as her soul fluttered in anxiety and her mind battled the onslaught. It lasted for a split second - before it became still. Deadly still. Dark, and deep. And then just deadly.

Not deadly as in dark and evil. But deadly in the sort of way Maximos or rather...Uriel, was when dressed in his cloak and baring his scythe. He then, her now, was not a malicious force but rather a resolute one. Like the deepest depths of the ocean. Like a crashing tidal wave, like a typhoon, or a hurricane. Forces, perhaps not of nature, but forces no less absolute in their destructive potential and danger, despite lacking any malice.

And like any force of nature, like anything that truly channels that cold destruction, instinct guided those threatened to flee. A man does not sanely stand before a tidal wave. A mortal does leap off a boat into a typhoon expecting to survive. Humans had fear, they had preset guidance that told them to flee certain kinds of danger. It was precisely the sort of scent and sensation a predator gets when closing on prey that knows it is being stalked but has no idea how to defend itself but to run. Maximos knew it only too well. And in the passing moments, Maximos that sensation, that taste, that touch, that experience flooded in from the dock and even the ship itself as so very many mortals took flight. Needless to say he was beside himself with the joy of it all, Lucind was doing something absolutely amazing. Nature responded to nature, even the water was effected by her call.

"Now, now....what do you have for me today?" Suddenly, she was alive again. Did Lucind have a grip on the book? Or the book her? With her soul as deep and dark as it was Maximos did not know. Her hand slid over blank pages that, as she turned them, seemed to suddenly ignite with life. Glowing text not in any language Maximos had ever read. Infact, he was not sure if the text was actually written, and not just thought made manifest as text to the eye so that the mind could try and grasp the concept of pure untranslated knowledge existing on a page.

"They're called seekers, an order that lives to unravel the secrets of this world...and others." Was she talking in common tongue or Seireneia? It was hard to tell, as well was the direction from where her voice was coming. Sometimes it would seem as if she sounding right within Maximos' head, then as if she standing behind or next or in front of him. And yet somehow he understood. As if Lucind's voice was not speaking words, but like the book was communicating information. He blamed his own mind for not being a worth or suitable receptacle for her to simply transfer the information or sentiments across without having to sully them with actual words. He imagined that the confusing dual nature of the words came from the difficulty in filtering something so very pure.

And as a reaper, Max should be able to make out all those souls, all of them equiped with a thirst for knowledge that made them true Faustian brothers. Some of them were not even born on this planet...Each entry was a soul...this book was humongous. A small city perhaps. But it was her city. Every brick, every inch, and she managed it masterfully. She extracted what she wanted, when and how she wanted, and yet much like a city Maximos understood that there was no way she could take in the whole thing at once.

He wanted to ask her what it was like. And yet he felt inept in that he had to use words to do so. The question was impossible to answer. It was like asking a spider to explain what it is to build a web. Oh, sure, the creative process was easy to understand, as was the mechanics of the thing. But the actual feel of body grown silk passing through you in thin and properly sculpted lines. The orchestrated dance that was making the web into its famed shape. The way one had to balance eight (six while spinning web) legs on a tight rope of incredibly thin line...

Impossible.

And that is what Lucind was on. A tight rope. Below her was a very deep and very dark fall into a place that Maximos was not sure he could retrieve her from. He could feel its unnatural gravity as surely as he could feel her own. Alone on this rope, Lucind had no net to save her, except him. And yet...would he? Could he?

Suddenly her head was jerked up and to the side. Somebody tried to interrupt her.

Max saw that it was the ship itself, no, he saw a connection that encompassed the ship. It was the Vikra, the water spirit residing in Prishazan's body that lashed out at the Siren - with the result that Lucind hissed something in her mother tongue, her upper lip revealing her teeth, something cold and almost deridingly. How dare it? The rudeness! Maximos himself wanted to plunge a hand into the thick wood and teach the upstart spirit some manners. Age did not justify rudeness, to a Reaper, age was nothing more than evidence of how long ones errant behavior had gone unchecked. His left hand moved to the black pearls on his right but before he could act Lucind already was.

Max couldn't understand her words per se, Lucind was beyond words at the moment but the meaning was very obvious:

Don't you dare touching me.

Maybe I can't protect these books from drowning - but do you think you could protect your host from me?

The ship fell silent.

I didn't think so.

Serves you right, the shadow thought to himself. The light in the room had darkened, as if Lucind was the center of a black hole and pulling in everything around her even illumination, or perhaps just the life of the small creatures that provided illumination. For a moment it seemed Lucind wanted to go back to "reading", and then her eyes found him.

Her eyes seemed off focus. He wondered what she truly saw. Was it him? Or did she see the collections of thoughts and knowledges within him all available, save for a few, to one with access as unbidden hers. He wondered, perhaps if she saw him as something entirely else.

"...so...so..."

Slowly, she walked over to him. And deep within the pit of his stomach Maximos felt a bit like a sailor at sea guided home by a beautiful voice only to crash on the rocks in a violent end. But in this case, instead of him sailing toward the voice it was coming toward him. Was it bringing its violent end in toe? Fear did not fill him, but something far more exciting. He was hers, as she was his. His arms opened wide, accepting. His mismatched eyes passed over her, fully enveloped in the books influence. His lips formed the words without thought, his tone laced with invitation beckoning her to finish the sentence she began and whatever thoughts spawned it.

...So?