conversations: human
conversations:  Continuing.
  
  As the birds near, you see there's an entourage of shapes behind them: the carriage is a room-sized iron litter borne by a column of storm archons. The birds, giant hawks with metallic feathers, stop a respectful distance away and wait for the carriage to catch up; then a red figure flies up alongside, trailing a white flag.
  
  "DO YOU NEED HELP?" the flying red person yells. You hear him in Common, but realize by the sparkle with which it hits your mind that he's speaking Supernal.
conversations: Exegesis:
conversations: human
conversations:  Arlanya 
    "Acamar..."   Arlanya sat on the edge of the floating island as she watched the ice fall through the sky.   &lt;Does it fall forever?&gt;   While her brother cast sigils about the island she breathed and forced herself to tense and relax each muscle.    &lt;This is my body, not yours.&gt;    Something rumbled within her chest and she grimaced and held her breath.   &lt;No, it's mine. I control it, I can kill it.&gt;   She ignored the first tinglings in her chest and placed   a hand on the ground.   &lt;I don't know if you can even answer in words but I'm sure you can understand me. This is mine.&gt; Her lungs began burning for air but she kept them closed.
  
    &lt;I think that we're tied together, now. If I die, you die. The final death, the last burning.&gt;   Blindspots flashed across the sky as bright lights burst and filled the spaces between.   &lt;I wear your skin now, but this...is still...mine.&gt;   Something roared within her heart and her eyes closed, her body teetering as she wavered between consciousness and sleep. She leaned forward, too far and felt her head go light as gravity began to take her when a falling icicle slammed into her and knocked her flat on her back.
  
  She coughed and gasped for air, her head swimming from the sudden rush.   "Nothing will be the same again, Aca."   She said through ragged breaths. She looked up at the birds   &lt;Rocs?&gt;   and glanced to Acamar.   "Someone's coming."  
  
  Struggling to her feet with the help of her tail she didn't bother to brush off the ice flakes and dirt from her clothes.   &lt;No, not a roc. Odd&gt;   She holds her left hand up, palm out and empty while her right holds her dagger, the metal suddenly heated to white hot.   &lt;Traditional tiefling greeting. Choose, peace or death.&gt;  
  
  She listens to the oddly accented common and nods, lowering her dagger, the heat evaporating.   "Yes, we've been separated from our companions. Can you help us return to the prime?"  
conversations: Chambers:
conversations: human
conversations:  The carriage slows and the flagbearer approaches, trailing flame. He's an efreet, and you see as you near what his flame cushion had obscured: his legs are stumps at the thigh.
  
  ( This image  works, if you fuzz your eyes.)
  
  "Perhaps. My patron would speak with you."
  
  With your assent, the litter is drawn up to the earthmote, and the crippled efreet beckons you to its door. Two burning, detailless eyes draw to a slot there. The creature inside speaks and its voice makes you realize it's an angel.
  
   It's alright,  it says,  neither is a servant of the gods. 
   We cannot take you there, but we can bring you to safety. What is your circumstance? What are you?  
conversations: Exegesis:
conversations: human
conversations:  Acamar 
  
  Someplace, they were falling through the void. Falling,  falling, and did it even matter?
  
    Unworthy.  
  
  Yet, here he was on his hands and knees, etching a protection from evil circle into the surface of the earthmote... It was a fake of course, he wasn't a ritualist, but he knew the theory well enough to bluff it. How much of his life had been a bluff, he wondered.
  
  Somewhere, his sister was talking to him. What was she saying? How were they even still alive?
  
    Outcast.  
  
  Anya. It was all for her of course. She at least had to survive, if no one else. The power within her, maybe if she could master it she could rechain the Freed God.
  
  Somewhere, someone was approaching.
  
    This is the price of failure.  
  
  And thereby reclaim the honor and... wait, someone was coming. A carriage, with the look of the higher planes. The time for self-pity was over. He stood, slowly approached the carriage and folded his arms across his chest. A show of strength, whether it was genuine or not, but unthreatening either way.
  
    "We are the children of Bael Turath, a name that may mean little to your grace. Lost children, I might add, two siblings stranded at the breaking of the world. That is our metaphysical condition at least; physically, we've seen better days, but then so has the cosmos. I suppose even with all we've been through, I still have my gift for understatement,"   he half-smirked at Arlanya with that last part.
  
  It was the most he'd spoken since they arrived on their chunk of falling rock. Self-deprecating humor wasn't his style though; neither was defeatism. Something was up.
conversations: Dacia Brabant:
conversations: human
conversations:  Continuing here. 
conversations: Exegesis: