City of IF

[Shillelagh]

Tempora Crepusculi - Chapter Seven

"Office of what!?” yelled Isaac, jumping to his feet. “You haven’t told me! You haven’t told me anything! You keep expecting me to make all of these decision about lycanthropes and demons and dead frat students, but you haven’t told me anything! Don’t expect me to play along with your little secret society rules if you won’t let me in! You think I don’t understand? Yeah, you’re right! I don’t! How can I, when you don’t understand me either?”

“How dare you!” countered the hospital voice. “You will behave with respect when-“

“Calm, Wistor,” said the central voice, placing a hand squarely on his chest. “There is a time and a place for tradition. This is not it. The boy may be onto something,” she continued, standing to address the rest of the council. Were we not lamenting an inability to understand the demons’ new plan? He knows nothing. He sees with fresh admiration or horror everything which we have long since taken for granted. Moreover, he does not even act like one of us. His human form may yet gain the trust of our enemies.”

“But, Milady…” pleaded Wistor, “they saw one of our teams rescue him! Surely you don’t plan on putting him onto the task force? We haven’t even decided if Itori will-“

“My dear Wistor, your logic is sound. It is also irrelevant. Itori will solve the problem to the best of his abilities, and he will no doubt attempt to include the boy, here. And I have no doubt that he is more than willing to help. Who are we to prevent the passions of youth? You just heard for yourself how little respect he shows for our laws.”

“Well, I didn’t… that is…” muttered Isaac, scratching the back of his neck.

“Do not apologize,” replied the central voice. “You are nothing if not honest. You are allowed contact with Itori, with the hopes that you do not provoke another confrontation for at least a week. We shall try to create the illusion that you have not received the fey’s blessing. When the Crepusculum falls, make sure you are nowhere near any lycanthropes or demons who might observe your disappearance. Itori shall help you with this.”

“Milady!” cried Wistor, jumping to his feet.

“Calm, Wistor,” she repeated, silencing him with her hand. “He is not without fault. We must find something to temper your fierce emotions,” she said, turning to Isaac. “I hope knowledge will serve this purpose; perhaps the next time you are washed away in your anger, you will at least understand the gravity of the situation. You are lucky to have escaped Pandaemonium with little more than physical harm. I am assigning you to Sciatis, the hamadryad of the library. When you are not asking questions or researching your new situation, you are to record a journal of your thoughts and reactions as an outsider.”

“A diary?” Isaac said, raising his eyebrows. “You want me to…? …fine. I see your point, even if it does suck. But what now? I can’t stay human, right? What if your little magic things turns me into a demon, not a fey?”

The figure on the end burst into laughter. “Oh, child, to think your mind can even entertain such a worry! Itori can choose his friends better than that. Anyway, let’s assume your personality is closer to that of a demon than that of a fey. The ceremony is connected to the pure essence of the Grove itself. If it determines you are unworthy of becoming a fey, it will obliterate you. So you see, there is nothing to worry about! Either you will be fey, or you will be nothing.”

“What!?” exclaimed Isaac, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “How is that nothing to worry about?”

“I think he means that you will be forced to receive the fey’s blessing regardless of your wishes,” replied Wistor. “If you cannot control this fact, it is therefore nothing to worry about. Pay him no mind. His logic is helpful to few beyond himself. We cannot allow you to remain a human here… yet even I have no doubt you will become a fey of some sort. If we were truly worried, we would merely exile you.”

“I… nevermind,” said Isaac, shaking his head. “Let’s just get it over with.”

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The central figure led the way, followed closely by Wistor. None of the other council members followed. The path slowly wound its way through the layers of the tree, steadily approaching the core of the tree.

“I expected there to be more security,” Isaac said, after walking under the third elaborate doorway.

“I told him we would be coming,” Wistor said, simply.

Isaac shook his head in irritation, but made no further attempts to break the silence.

The winding path began to lead them downward, through the bottom of the tree. The massive roots slowly gave way to rock and soil, though the solid tendrils of ancient wood never truly left the path. The trail took a sharp jut to the left, straight into the center of the slow spiral. Here the roots grew straight down, creating the illusion of a thatch hut. The slow trickling of water could be heard from inside, and a cool mist could be observed slowly seeping from the doorway.

“This is where we will leave you,” she said, gesturing toward the structure with a bow. “Inside is the nexus of the Grove. This ceremony, even for you, is far too personal for us to escort you any further.”

“I just have to submerge myself into the water, right?” asked Isaac, pulling off his shirt.

“Kindly do not enter our sacred shrine in the nude,” Wistor said with a grimace, looking away.

“Oh! I… uhh…” he stuttered helpfully, standing awkwardly with his shirt at his waist, constraining his forearms.

“Do not worry about it,” she said with a laugh. “It is not water, but you are correct that you must submerse yourself. The ritual should not take too long. We will wait here, for your name.”

“But… my name is Isaac,” he said, pausing in the doorway.

They said nothing. Isaac shrugged, and entered the mist.

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Isaac could no longer see the earthen root walls. In the center of the ethereal whiteness was a soft, blue liquid which cascaded from nowhere in particular into a small pond outlined by amethyst crystal stones. Isaac carefully extended his arm into one of the waterfalls; the liquid shaped like honey to the touch, but it was dry, and shimmered like fabric. Isaac knelt down at the side of the pool, and splashed the surface of the pond. It, too, was completely unlike water. The sensation of the blue passing through his hands like liquid was completely at odds with the touch of a soft chill. Sitting at the liquid’s edge, kicking his feet in the blue, Isaac noticed his pant legs remained perfectly dry. With a shrug, Isaac pushed off with his arms and cast himself bodily into the blue.

Isaac gasped; the substance surrounded him like foam, a mould which cast itself against every edge of his body. The blue was inside him, he was filled with it, his lungs burned for air as he suffocated. His eyes could see nothing but blue, his consciousness slipped away in the alarming presence of a solid, unending nothingness which held him in place. Was he sinking? He could not tell. His last thoughts were of the blue; he could think of nothing else as it wrapped around his mind, piercing its way into his psyche.

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He jerked awake, coughing and spluttering. He was inside the thatched hut, hanging restrained from the ceiling by his wrists and ankles. He coughed several more times at the sensation of the blue congealed in his throat, though there was nothing there.

“A satyr,” Wistor noted with disdain.

The words jolted his mind; Wistor was correct. His legs felt much more tense, more ready to release a leaping stride at a moment’s notice. They were warmer, covered in a coarse fur, and the feet which felt numb were now hooves. Presumably he had horns as well; he could not feel them.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“I told you, already,” he groaned, “it’s Yasik.”

That jolted the satyr awake. He should his head, trying to clear his mind. “No, I mean, Yasik. No… Yasik. I, ahh… Yasik. I-S-A-A-C. Yasik.”

“It’s okay,” she said, laughing, as Wistor tapped the roots which held Yasik in place. “It is your fey name. You will find it very hard to pronounce your mortal name in the Grove, especially here, so close to the nexus. You may share the same continuity of memory, but you are two separate people. Over time, you might even develop different habits and preferences.”

“That doesn’t… am I… are we really?” said Yasik, poking the tips of his new, stubby horns.

“The short answer is yes,” replied Wistor, shoving him in the back. “But don’t think about it too hard yet. You’ll come to terms with this over time. Try walking. You’re not used to your legs, yet. Don’t run, and don’t think about how weird they feel.”

“The Crepusculum has almost ended,” she said, apologetically. “You will have more time to adjust tomorrow. For now, we need you to leave this tree.”

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Yasik wobbled down the front steps of what he now assumed to be the capital building. Wistor had been right; walking was easy until he remembered his feet were now hooves. As he expected, Itori was waiting for him outside. The sun was rising over the treetops… yet, unlike the sunrise he expected, this one seemed to slowly envelope the sky.

“So, what’s your name?” Itori asked. “Essec? Sykaan?”

“Yasik,” he replied, with a shrug. “Are our names always that similar to each other?”

“Well, yes,” admitted Itori, “but without last names and facial features, that’s usually enough of a disguise to protect your identity while still allowing friends to connect your two selves. So, what now?”

“What do you mean?” Yasik asked, confused. He was partially distracted by the sun, which had now consumed the entire sky with a dull, light yellow. The not-sun was now casting its pallor over everything in sight, creating the illusion that reality was slowly fading away. Well, Yasik thought to himself, it probably was.

“Well, when the Crep ends, you’ll be back at the frat party. Tony won’t be around to answer your questions, and you probably aren’t good enough of an actor to shrug off the post-Crep shift. You’ve got to act like no time has passed since you’ve been here, which means setting aside all of the events of today lest you act suspicious.”

“I… hadn’t considered that,” said Yasik.

“And then there’s the big picture,” he continued. “You’ll have to be at least somewhat diligent with that journal they assigned to you, but that’s no reason not to have fun here. I’d be more than happy to hang out with you and show you around, and I’m pretty sure Jaiknob would like to meet you, and apologize to you.”

“You’re right,” said Yasik, squinting to see Itori’s silhouette against the all-consuming light of the not-sun. He probably had less than a minute before the Crep ended.

“I guess I’ll…”

[Thunderbird]

Feels good once you've pushed past that writer's block, doesn't it? You look back wondering... why was I stuck here in the first place? A nice return to Tempora, Shill!

The imaginitive, descriptive qualities of this tale remain enchanting.

My only problem so far is getting lost in the cast of characters, not always getting a clear picture of who you're referring to, but then I'm sure part of that is that its been a bit since I read the last chappy.

I was really hoping we'd be given the dp of what form he'd end up taking as a fey but I understand that some decisions are too plot/story critical for the audience to make. That said, though, I'm a little lost as to what exactly we're being asked here. What are our options? What pros and cons can be considered regarding those options?

[Shillelagh]

I have to admit, trying to work the transformation into a dp was one of the stumbling blocks of getting past this chapter. Ultimately, though, since the reader has no direct effect on Isaac's personality, any method of dp would have been either arbitrary, or completely randomized. The DP here is a little forced, but I'm really not sure where else I could have placed it.

The first part is determining what to do about the frat party. Isaac started the Crep there, which means he will return there. His friend Alex will remember nothing, but any nearby demons- and possibly the lycanthropes- will remember him trying to run away, and then being rescued by the fey. So, if he leaves early, that might be too suspicious. At the same time, if he stays, he might let something slip that would be equally suspicious.

Beyond that, I'm open to suggestions as to what Isaac would want to do next. It all boils down to interesting filler detail before the next plot point drops- unless you surprise me, in which case I'll have to scramble my plans. Again.

[Thunderbird]

So, remind me... why do the fey and demons and such not scrap it out in RL, after the crep is over? What keeps them 'at bay' and civil? And what exactly is the danger then in them knowing he's become fey?

[Shillelagh]

Well, the main reason would be that anything which happens in real life doesn't transfer over to the Crep. So, even if the demons' real life forms were to break all of Tony's limbs, his fey half Itori would be perfectly healthy. Yes, it would be an excellent way to demoralize Tony... but then they would have to face the real life authorities. The pro doesn't really outweigh the con. They probably would try and make Tony's life miserable- if they knew he was half fey- but only as far as not getting into inconveniencing trouble themselves. They can't do anything magically damage out of the Crep, so it's easier to do nothing at all.

As for his identity? It's mostly a matter of espionage. Maybe it doesn't matter. But he is friends with a frat officer- they might use that connection after deciding that it's worth it to harass Isaac outside of the Crep. If the fey think he has value, would the demons agree?

[Crunchyfrog]

An excellent chapter, Shillelagh.

He's now going to have to choose what he does very carefully in RL.

He was in the bar with Alex when the Crep descended... right? So... I think he'll just get back there and get a round of drinks in, because he's not going to remember exactly the last thing that was said after going through all of that experience. It will also help him settle back into RL and he can let Alex lead the next line of conversation.

[Thunderbird]

So then, are lycans and demons two distinctly separate 'teams' with their own conflicts between them or are lycans just a form of demon?

[Shillelagh]

That's... actually a pretty good idea, Crunchy. He's at a frat party, but the concept is pretty close.

TBird, you don't really know the answer to that. The lycanthrope in chapter one seemed friendly, if not temperamental... the others which you met in chapter four definintely seemed evil. The distinction might be something to ask Tony.

[Thunderbird]

I was thinking he could try to play it cool, explaining that he ran because, well... they're freakin' scary! If they try to figure out how he remained conscious during the crep, which is probably their primary curiosity at this moment, then he could truthfully explain what took place... blame the demon. He could use this to deflect the most recent developments from coming to light, buying him time to get out of there without creating more questions on their minds... he ran off and hid was all.

[Crunchyfrog]

TBird's thoughts above makes me think further - he's not necessarily going to know any more who are his friends and who are his enemies, while they're in their human form. He can really only guess based on the similarities between their Crep and RL names - and even then he could easily be wrong.

He knows that Alex is safe - I think he should stick to Alex like glue during the daytime.

[Shillelagh]

Anyone else?

[Smee]

Satyr!

Cool, even if Wistor isn't so impressed. Actually it'd be interesting to know why she wasn't so impressed. Are Satyr's considered weak, perhaps magically. Are they a 'lowly' form of fey? Or perhaps they are overrun with them already, and another is no great pleasure.

I think the next time I was in the crep I'd want to meet some other Satyrs... might as well begin to make friends with my own kind. Who knows, one might have a name we can later puzzle out in real life.

Anyhoo all that is for later.

As much as another round of drinks sounds good, I would think with everything that has gone on, that some sleep is a priority. But as was mentioned, it'd look a tad suspicious to leave.

Order a drink, down it, then make a very obvious dash for the bathroom, make some convincing throwing up sounds in one of the stalls, and then leave pleading sickness/being wasted ;)

Later on, I agree with Crunchy. Stick with Alex. Although something in my memory is saying 'Tony' too... was there a Tony?

Good chapter,

Happy Writing :)

[Shillelagh]

Whelp, poll's up!

Since everyone had pretty much the same thoughts as to what Isaac should do in the immediate future, I decided to focus the poll on a more general sort of 'what should he do next'.

[Thunderbird]

hmm... tough poll. The last option is deceptively a good one as it would not give away any particular affiliation and might suggest he still has no awareness of the Crep among those who don't already have a strong clue such as the wolves and many of the Fey. Might stay better hidden that way.

[Crunchyfrog]

Tough indeed!

...and voted. :)

[Shillelagh]

Anyone else?

[vgracebutterfly]

I just finished reading, and this seems like a really interesting story.

I think it might seem suspicious if he just all of a sudden went to hang out with Tony after he had been hanging out with Alex that night. Maybe he could hang out with Tony later though. Also there seems to be something weird going on with Alex, the frat, and the Lycanthropes. If I were Issac I would still want to investigate that more despite the risks.