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Much as you try to rule your nerves, anxiety makes its creeping presence known in small gestures: a bouncing knee, quickly stilled; constant long visual sweeps of the gaily-clad crowd about you; twitchy fingers spinning the sweating glass on the table in front of you in jerky revolutions. Your drink is something fruity, kept chilled by the application of ice crystals. No alcohol, at least not yet; it is still early, and you dare to hope your guest will make his appearance.
It had been no mean feat to convince the postmoogle to convey your message to an Ascian. Indeed, were you not essentially the head postmoogle’s darling (due to your own tireless efforts to help the sweet, hopeless creatures in their mission) you likely could not have gotten it delivered for love or money. But thanks to a few harrowing favors it was done, and with time a-plenty before the Moonfire Faire for Elidibus to decide whether to accept.
Of course, there is no guarantee this “emissary” will choose to meet you. Your face warms with shame to think back once more to your first and last meeting, how you had stood ready for battle, unready to hear overtures of peace. Well. A deep sigh dispels the tension before it can settle into your shoulders. Subsequent reflection had brought you to truly hear his words, to weigh them with his actions. After discussion with Minfilia you realized that you must needs speak with him once more, in a neutral setting. What’s more, it lay upon you to extend the hand to him, to atone for what he saw as unacceptable behavior toward an emissary of peace.
And so you twist in uncertainty, watching the crowd for a glimpse of white robes—would he wear such? He would stand out like a beacon among the swimwear-clad celebrants, and that mask would surely draw notice. Perhaps, you realize belatedly, this was a poor choice of venue. Too late to change your mind now, and you shudder to think what favors another invitation would cost you.
Hopefully he deigns to visit, or at least sends a messenger.
Your eye snags on someone headed your way. It is clear from both his trajectory and from the way his face brightens at your attention that he has you in his sights. You paste a friendly smile on. It will not be the first time some gregarious soul has spotted you sitting alone and offered their company. But before he is near enough that you might call out to him icy fingers trip down your spine.
An Ascian is nearby.
Your smile falters in distraction, your head turning this way and that, trying to spot him. Foolishness, perhaps; he should know precisely where to find you, while you likely will not recognize him without his elaborate robes. But no other has their gaze trained upon you, and when your supplicant seats himself in the chair intended for your guest you turn reluctantly back to him to deal with the situation.
You are greeted by a cocky grin, sun-kissed skin gaping through the open front of a brightly colored and patterned shirt. His eyes are obscured by dark spectacles, the broad lenses shielding the upper portion of his face. Sandy hair sweeps upward, and a playful tilt of his head snags your attention, drawing it to his face.
“I’m sorry,” you say politely. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Oh, do say it’s me.” His voice is a high, somewhat nasally tenor, a surprisingly appropriate match for his laconic and playful demeanor. You cannot help a laugh, even as disappointment creeps in; by the voice it is plain this cannot be Elidibus.
“I’m afraid not. I’m waiting on a gentleman by the name of Elidibus. Unless you know him?”
The shivery feeling of encroaching danger has peaked, and you fight not to squirm in your chair, not to show how nervous you feel at knowing a servant of Darkness lurks nearby but not knowing where they might be. Your guest regards you with a sudden serious air that is not covered in the least by his smile.
“Mmm, perhaps. But why would you seek his company when you might have mine?”
You sigh. “Sorry, the matter is a rather personal one. I hope you understand.” You aren’t like to admit to this coy stranger that you can see shadowy figures that others cannot, nor less that you may have erred in assuming they were all of a kind. And certainly not on a “perhaps.”
Fortunately he does not seem to take offense, chuckling. “Such suspicion. To answer the question you fear to put to words, yes. I am an Ascian. And as such I am indeed acquainted with our emissary. But if you wish so to learn more of the gift, I am more than adequate to the task.” He grins, sitting back.
For a moment you deliberate the matter. Could this apparent beach-goer truly be an Ascian, you wonder? He certainly does not look the part… but the oppressive darkness yet wraps you, singing of danger nearby. And he knows Elidibus as emissary, which lends credence to his claims. You sigh. Much as you hope to apologize for your previous behavior, your truest and deepest motivation is to learn of the Echo. In the end, one Ascian inclined to teach you is as good as another.
Before you can say as much, though, his head turns, his lips curling into a snarl. He mutters something, too low to catch.
“Nabriales. What are you doing here?”
You crane about to spot the speaker. Elidibus’s voice is as unmistakable as his appearance is unassuming. Khaki shorts and a white shirt, short-sleeved, reveal a trim, muscular figure; large dark glasses, even larger than your guest—Nabriales—wears, hide his face beneath a straw hat. Though, you consider, the hat may be more for sun protection than a part of his disguise; his skin is fair enough that you are relieved this table has an umbrella to shield it from the sun’s ferocity.
“Forgive me; I know you are quite busy at present. I but thought to spare you from overwork.” Turning back, you find the brightly-dressed Ascian smiling as though his face had never been touched by anger. His unctuous tone seems unlikely to fool any present, though by Elidibus’s sigh sailing over your shoulder it is not a matter worth pursuing.
“The invitation was addressed to me, and for good reason.” The low, resonant tones are full of censure. Nabriales’s smile turns downward, becomes a grimace, and with a sigh he heaves himself up from the chair. One hand gestures elaborately to it as Elidibus draws to a stop beside the table, his gaze still turned upon the other Ascian. “Whence this sudden interest in the gifted? Has something changed? Or have you some ulterior motive in coming here?”
Annoyance presses Nabriales’s lips tight for a breath. “Can I not simply correct my earlier oversight? I wished to see what all the fuss about this one was.”
A faint smile glimmers about Elidibus’s lips. “I suppose you cannot truly be faulted for that.” He glances at you. “I cannot say how long my business might take, but perhaps you might linger and enjoy the festivities for a time.” His smile broadens. “Provided you make some promise of good behavior, that is.”
Though his words are plainly directed at Nabriales, you cannot help but feel he has chosen them to strike home within you as well, a tactful reminder and request upon his own behalf, for his own safety. For his part, Nabriales smirks once more, offering a slight bow.
“Of course! I shall be the absolute model of good behavior, never you fear.”
Elidibus shoots Nabriales a pointed look, and you hide a sudden smile behind the rim of your glass. Even having just met him, you find such a claim somewhat suspect. Despite his playful mien, though, he seems reluctant to leave. Setting down your glass, you answer the unspoken question lingering between you.
“I would offer the same promise. As I indicated in my invitation, I have not brought a weapon.” Your breezy summer attire could not conceal anything but the smallest dagger anyway. “So you likewise have nothing to fear from me. I simply hoped to talk. And… to apologize.”
At this Elidibus smiles. “In that case, I accept your invitation.” He glances once more at the other Ascian. Nabriales gives a roll of his eyes and a lazy wave and, still grinning, walks off. Elidibus releases a nearly inaudible sigh and settles on the chair.
“Is he always like that?”
Elidibus’s lips quirk at your question. “Frequently,” he says, and there is something warm in his voice. “Were he not so competent, he could not get by with such troublesome behavior. Alas, he knows how desperately we need him and takes full advantage.”
For a moment you watch the retreating Ascian’s back. The wavering thrill of danger, of darkness, recedes with him, and you draw what feels like the first full breath you’ve had since his approach. Refocusing on Elidibus, you find him composed, sitting straight in his chair with hands folded upon the table’s edge. What you can see of his face seems neutrally pleasant, a polite but distant expression. Waiting for you to speak. You draw another deep breath.
“First, allow me to apologize for my comportment during our last meeting. Never before that moment had I encountered an Ascian without it coming to some kind of conflict. We had no knowledge of what your robes might indicate, so we assumed the worst. Needless to say it will not happen again; so long as you offer us no violence we will not do the same again. I hope you might forgive us our ignorance and suspicion.”
A small smile, pleased, comes over those lips, and he gives you a nod. “I shall think no more on it.” For a moment it seems he might say more, but he pauses, glancing to the side. Following his gaze, you find Nabriales approaching once more, bringing with him the wave of chill that warns of his presence. In each hand he holds a drink, both the same alarming shade of yellow-green. A huge grin dominates his face as he sets the drinks before the two of you.
“Consider this my apology for interfering in your business.” When you both hesitate to take the drinks he scowls. “Well? I sampled one myself, and I can assure you it is exquisite!”
“How thoughtful of you, Nabriales. We are grateful to accept.” Elidibus does not reach for the glasses, though, leaving them in the middle. Perhaps, you realize, out of concern that you might fear poison. Your current glass has barely a swallow left in it; you toss it back swiftly, sliding the cup to the side and scrutinizing Nabriales’s offering. They appear identical, each adorned with a slice of lime and a small paper umbrella. You take one at random and sample it cautiously. Across from you, Elidibus takes the other. Nabriales, apparently satisfied, leaves you with one last wave, making for the shoreline.
The drink is shockingly sweet, some kind of melon flavor mixed with a juice you can’t quite place. The sweetness nearly masks the sharper bite of the alcohol. Not your usual selection, but not bad either. Elidibus grimaces at his own sip and sets his cup down with careful precision. For a moment there is silence; still feeling the onus of past errors pressing down on you, you search for a topic of discussion.
“Would you explain more about what your robes mean? We sought more information on the topic from allies of ours, but we have been unable to make contact them.” The thought brings concern once more to the fore of your mind; never before have the Students of Baldesion failed to respond to your hails, and now it has been days.
The thought is dispelled as Elidibus speaks, and you listen in fascination as he describes the precarious nature of the balance between Light and Dark, the necessity of seeing that it does not tip too far either way. Privately you struggle to believe it when he claims to have served the cause of Light, working in opposition to his own comrades to see that the Dark does not gain too much supremacy. By the earnestness of his explanations, the hints of passion showing through his otherwise-calm exterior, though, you find yourself inclined to take his dedication to the balance seriously, at the least.
For a moment after he falls silent, you stare down into your empty cup, digesting this new revelation, this new perspective. It seems there is more to your Ascian opponents than you had realized—or at least to this particular one. Indeed, now that you come to speak with him he seems quite different from the others—
“Would you care for more?”
You blink up to him. His glass had slowly gone empty as he spoke, sipped to nothing between sentences; he gestures now with it toward your own empty drink. Your intentions of gleaning more information on the Echo still linger, but your head feels too full at the moment to pursue it. In fact, a bit of relaxation or exertion could help to clear your head rather nicely, you think.
“That would be lovely, actually. And we can see if they have something more to your own tastes, if you’d like.”
He smiles, standing up. “It is kind of you to notice.” He offers a hand, and you accept after a bare second of hesitation. He releases you once you gain your feet. “Nabriales surely means well, but his preferences appear to differ somewhat from my own.” Together you make your way to the vendor, peruse the selection offered for the festivities. You make your choice, noticing only afterward that Elidibus is hanging back, seeming content to watch you. You gesture for him to join you.
“Please feel free to pick something. It’s my treat—cost is not an object.” He raises a hand as though to wave the offer off, but you push on before he can speak. “Go on. Consider it a part of my apology. After all, it is nearly as important, is it not, to balance work and pleasure?”
“I suppose… yes.” With a chuckle he accedes to your insistence, selecting one of the ales on tap. Together you meander along the beach’s edge, simply enjoying the weather, the excitement, the music of an impromptu performance by some wandering adventurer. For a time you chat about things mundane and esoteric, and you find yourself surprised to enjoy the increasingly comfortable presence of the white-clad Ascian.
The faire managers have set up a series of platforms and beams out in the water, where brave beachgoers balance and leap from one set to the next. You glance at Elidibus. Something tells you if you tried to get him to run it with you he would likely decline. A shame… it does look like fun, you reflect. Glancing over the higher reaches of the structure, you frown, peering closer.
“Look. Isn’t that your friend? Nabriales, or whatever?”
He looks where you point. “I do believe you are correct.” Together you come to a stop, watching. The other Ascian stands at the edge of a high beam, eyeing a long jump critically. A careful step back, a launch forward… and a perfect landing. You find yourself smiling; the faint sound of distant applause reaches you as he turns back, grinning big enough to see even from here as the other jumpers on nearby beams cheer his success. After a moment he begins the process anew at the next leap, managing it with similar aplomb and pomp. You turn to Elidibus.
“We should try the obstacle course.”
For the first time since you have known him Elidibus is lost for words. His lips part, close, part once more, and he clears his throat. “That seems unnecessary,” he finally manages.
“Nonsense. It isn’t truly dangerous, and even less so to us. It'll be fun!"
He seems unconvinced by your enthusiasm. "Surely there are other ways we might pass the day. Perhaps some small fireworks, or a spot of fishing?"
But you roll your eyes, a fond smile curving over your lips. “Oh, come now, Elidibus. When is the last time you did something that got your heart pounding?” When he does naught but stare by way of response, forehead wrinkling over his sunglasses, you seize his hand, bold from growing familiarity and a light buzz of alcohol, and pull him insistently toward the faire officiant. He offers neither resistance nor complaint, and by the indulgent smile of the gentleman directing the course it is not the first time he has seen such varying levels of enthusiasm. Of course, it seems likely he also misconstrues the nature of your relationship, but you shrug it off, eager to prove your acrobatic skill.
A clever combination of water and wind crystals sends you flying with just enough momentum to land on the first platform; you turn an excited grin on Elidibus as he lands beside you. Whatever reluctance he felt seems to have disappeared; he gazes ahead, analyzing the course before you. With a shrug you go on ahead. Surely he’ll catch up.
Your adventuring reflexes serve you well; each jump lands you right where you aimed it, and in no time you reach the first waypoint. Here you pause to wait for Elidibus. With anyone else you might have tried to make it a race, but you don’t get the impression he has any interest in competition, and you do hope he enjoys it, especially after you all but dragged him into it. Hopefully your presence will help to fulfil that.
His leaps are meticulous, each calmly analyzed and precisely executed. His process may be slower than your own, but it is no less effective; within a few moments he stands beside you.
“For how reluctant you were to try this, you seem to have a knack for it.”
He smiles in response to your enthusiasm. “I never doubted my ability. I simply prefer not to take any avoidable risk.”
You laugh. “Yet here you are spending time with me. Did no one warn you how dangerous it is to be in any proximity to me?”
This draws a chuckle from him. “How fortunate that I have my own forms of protection, my own methods of escape.” He heads for the next portion of the course, leaving you to catch up with him.
This series of jumps has you climbing the face of a much taller tower. You take a bit more time on these jumps, aware of Elidibus just ahead of you. Silly it may be, but you don’t wish to fall on a jump he succeeds on. What’s more, you would feel it a bit rude to ask him to stand aside and let you pass him by. Either the faint sense of competition or the slower pace does you good, though, and soon you close on the final few leaps. It is no surprise to you that Elidibus completes the course flawlessly, not after seeing him in action. You find yourself filing away the information, in the case that it should prove useful; seeing him in action, even in so simple a thing, is fascinating.
As you perform the final jump, a chill aura reaches out, catching you and leaving you unsettled. The distraction is poorly timed; your landing falters, and you teeter at the platform’s edge. But a strong hand catches your arm, stabilizing your footing and helping you a step away from the edge. You look, only slightly surprised to see Elidibus, a small smile upon his lips.
“Have care, Warrior. You nearly lost your balance there.”
You chuckle, moving more safely toward the platform’s center, and he releases you.
“Thanks.”
That smile lingers as he nods. “It is no trouble. It is, after all, the duty I have taken upon myself.”
You narrow your eyes. Did his smile turn sly for a moment there? If so, it is gone before you can be certain of it. “Well,” you say with a smile of your own, “I find myself grateful.”
Together you claim your prizes from the faire attendant. Elidibus looks in bemusement at the tokens in his hand, but you are already searching for the next jump. You saw Nabriales higher than this, so there must be more…
You start as his voice calls out from above. “How did you manage that?” Craning upward, you see his face peering over the edge of the tower above. At your baffled look, he waves a hand. “How did you get Elidibus to do something risky?”
Beside you, Elidibus stiffens somewhat, the air of relaxation that had come upon him during the acrobatic challenge dissipating. “To what risk do you refer?” he retorts, and you find yourself suddenly trying to hide a smile. “I, at the least, do not fear bruising my dignity should I take a fall into the water.”
Nabriales grimaces at that, almost a snarl, and his head disappears from view. A moment later he reappears, hopping heedlessly down the obstacle course until he joins you on the relative stability of the platform. Even knowing the water below would cushion a fall somewhat, even knowing the Ascian would surely take no lasting injury from even a bad fall, you cannot help but hold your breath all the while. For a moment he simply looks between the two of you, seeming unimpressed.
“Well? Will you not try to scale the next portion?” He gives you an oily smile. “I should be glad to offer tips, should you like.”
Almost you take him up on the offer. It would be a fun challenge… but you yet wish to try and prise more information on the Echo from Elidibus. You shake your head with a smile.
“A kind offer, truly. But I have other plans.” You brandish your newly-won tokens. “I want to see what I can exchange these for.”
Whatever fit of pique had crossed Elidibus earlier has now faded; he extends his own tokens. “I doubt I shall have any use for these. Should you wish—”
Before he can finish his sentence, Nabriales snatches them from his hand. “Thank you! Don’t mind if I do.” Elidibus scowls at him, but he gives another smirking wave as he heads to the slide situated nearby. The dark expression warms to one of bemused humor once Nabriales is gone.
“He must be really competent,” you joke, and are pleased to see Elidibus smile once more in response.
“Indeed, more’s the pity.”
With one last glance at the beam that begins the next level of ascent, you make your way to the slide. The Moonfire Faire will run a few days yet; perhaps tomorrow you can start fresh and make your way to the top. If Nabriales could learn it quickly, surely you can do so as well. You splash into the shallows at the bottom of the slide, moving to one side to make room for Elidibus, following you. This time it is you that offers him a stabilizing hand to stand to his feet. Together you head to the token exchange to peruse the prizes. You find Nabriales already there with an armload of assorted sparklers and fireworks. To your surprise he waits for you, tagging along when you go to the bar. With an indulgent smile and a roll of your eyes, you include him in your drink order, and the three of you secure a table.
For a moment you just watch the slowly lengthening shadows, the cries of the beach-goers blending with the soothing hush of the ocean’s waves to make something almost musical. Nabriales begins lighting his sparklers, putting on a miniature light show for your table. When he picks up a bombard bloom, though, you wince in anticipation.
“Maybe… take that one away from the umbrella?”
Affecting annoyance at your request, he moves a few paces away. You try not to start too badly at the series of pops, turning to Elidibus for a distraction.
“Would you tell me more about the Echo?”
For a moment he regards you thoughtfully. By degrees his expression warms, and he takes another sip of his drink. “Of course.” As darkness creeps over the world, you listen to him speak of what he knows, half-hypnotized by the warm rumble of his resonant voice. After a time, Nabriales joins you silently to listen as well. Once darkness wraps you in a concealing shroud, the Ascians make their goodbyes and disappear near-silently into a rift. You head home as well, head once again full of revelations, but a heart lightened by forgiveness makes it an easy burden to bear.