A light summer

Darkness steals. Darkness suffocates. Darkness dreams. Darkness kills. Darkness is everywhere. Darkness isn't you!

A clean fluting song quivered on its high note, stealing silence's domain and replacing it with musical thrills and entertainment. Trills and quaver beats blown clear up into the night, the myriad of stars twinkling in appreciation. The notes were singing and floating care-freely to mingle at the sides of the captivated audience. Their eyes too shone with pleasure and evident admiration. For it was a soulful tune that held quite so much meaning for them, they were able to feel connected with in and join the virtuoso in his fantasy world of swirling colors and dreams. A violin suddenly joined in from nowhere, and together, the two instruments sung their molded hearts out.

The violin called out, its strong vibrato bringing out its best quality, rising expectancies with its mellow timbre. Then the sonorous flute responded, calm and gentle as the lapping waves hidden in the dark distance, rising and falling in perfect feel and time. Then it suddenly changed into a lively dance, and the audience could see the illusory visions of skipping elves and stout little dwarfs as solid partners, both in rhythm. It swirled and rolled, the violin leading mainly with a strong melody that depicted a lone nervous arrival. The flute's gentle calling lured it though it had to chase and earn its timid partner. And they danced with blinding speed and unparalleled skill, each taking a solo at times, but they were undoubtedly meant for each other. It was the Nysern Summer Dance.

Coming strong, then fading to black, it was a roller-coaster ride and squeals of delight came from the younger when the violinist did her sweet little pizzicatos when rejecting the flutist's advancements. They paid rapt attention to every detail of the performance, as though attempting to replicate the movements and skills of the players. But this wasn't just a performance; it was a duet audition where the public was granted access. And to accommodate the gathering it was been conducted in an open stadium. The end of performance was greeted with deafening shouts and vigorous clapping when the stunned people began to reenter reality. The panel of judges remained impassive but clapped politely alongside the audience as well. Those of higher-ranks who were seated up front on gold-gilded chairs depending on their various stations too clapped loudly in approval, but desisted the unrefined method of shouting and whistling. But the rest of those present more than made up for that.

"Encore!" screamed one pig-tailed girl who was soon joined by a small group encouraging an impromptu piece from each of them. A majority of adults joined in as well, only the mothers consisted of those who mainly held themselves from such screaming displays. They were too well aware of the judges of upper-class people's distaste would rather not risk shattering their paltry influence and image.

"Silence, please, may we all have silence please." It took several more effort to stamp down the cries of disappointment as the two players smiled apologetically. The diminutive blond flutist winked mischievously at the disappointed children who instantly knew what he meant. There would be an informal recital later and that reassuring news more than helped calm the agitated crowd. But the violinist remained frosty and unresponsive and seeing her partner's promise, looked extremely annoyed. A look of disgust crossed her face.

"Thank you." The judge pretended not to have seen the flutist's assistance and clearing his throat delicately first, leaned forward to project his voice with the help of a hidden Naitrer. "The judges have come to the final decision and now announce the fact that both Divalsky Ghote and Marie Luinten have been as of this hour, a member of the prestigious Naitrer Performing Ensemble." The impatient stirrings immediately erupted to joyous roars of approval. Even the glacial Marie was caught smiling.

"The night is over. I would like to thank you all for lending your ears and support in attending this audition. Thank you, and have a good night." The crowd all knew that his words were aimed towards his fellow colleagues and the proud high-ranking class but it didn't bother them. This inequality had been going on for ages, and they had had their share of refined fun for the night. That was satisfying enough for most.

"Ghote, Luinten." Two heads turned in the direction of the unknown whisperer in surprise.

Eyebrows raised haughtily, she stared down at a crouching man whose face was partial hidden in the shadows. They had not seen him before. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Why are you here? I though no one was allowed backstage."

"Backstage?" the man repeated incredulously. "You call these flimsy pieces of crap a backstage?" he laughed mockingly, to Marie's roused anger and embarrassment. "If I wanted I go knock it all down and burn the lot to ashes without a flick of a finger. Now, do you believe that claim?"

She hesitated.

"Good, I see that you are finally using your brain and not just your fingers," he remarked maliciously before turning towards the taciturn Divalsky. "And what about you, young gentleman? Why did you not bother aiding a female obvious in need of help? You may play well but it seems you are hardly manly enough…"

Marie drew a sharp intake of breath and that but Divalsky remained as unperturbed as before, angled provoke or no. Marie seemed ready to backlash the man but at a silent look from her friend, beat it down. "A man's manliness is not measure by such things, Naitrer," he responded coolly. "It is his heart that determines such things but I see you do not wish to know of her perception. So let's cut the flowery drivel and get to the point. What do you?" This was one of the reasons Marie admired the diminutive man so. The Naitrer appeared to hesitate.

"I am here to escort you to the Official Performing Quarters where you two are to take up quarters there as part of its new members. I will also be assisting with whatever problems, technical only, that you may have until you two greenlings have found your feet there. The world's a big place, you know." The gibe was not missed.

"Thank you for your offer though I'm sure it didn't come from you," Divalsky intervened before Marie, knowing her hot temperament was unlikely to kick off a fantastic start of their relationship with a potentially dangerous Naitrer. Even though the man had hardly made any effort to be pleasant or likeable in the least. "But wouldn't it be better if we knew you're name? It seems you already know Marie's and mine."

A sneer appeared as he threw the response in an exasperated manner. "Gidon fur Kramer at your temporary disposal, now come on." A black hole that led to a glowing room winked into existence in front of them and he placed a feet into the short dark tunnel. "Come on, through to the portal now. Why," he grinned suddenly. "You didn't think we would actually walk all the way there at this dead time of night, that was foolish? Oh well, at least you know better than to assume that now, I hope. Come on, ain't got all day. And your nerves had better not bite; it's only a short trek from one end to the next. Just run and it wouldn't take more than a minute. I do have my tolerance." He disappeared into the widening gape and there soon saw his lithe figure racing through the endless dark.

"That's clear," Marie muttered, rolling her eyes. Winking at Divalsky, she placed a foot on the blur threshold, "Must be nice being a Naitrer, just wish they were less arrogant a lot. Come one," and vanished as well, to reappear inside the now closing hole.

"Indeed," he growled, hands tightly gripping his case leaped into the hole. "And he doesn't joke too well either."

They were in a sparse yet brightly lit room. It was much brighter than it had appeared from the opposing entrance. "Light can't travel far from portals," was the only explanation offered gruffly. And now they were speeding through empty, lavishly decorated halls in a slipping attempt of keeping up with Gidon. "He guy must think he's running a marathon here," Marie huffed angrily before keeping her peace. Divalsky only concentrated in keeping up. All in all, it was a swift silent trip uninterrupted by the building's other inhabitants. Not that there were many in such an enormous building. Marie was already making mental lists of the costly and absolute wastage of space and items that lined the passing halls. "It must amount to several million at least," she breathed in disbelief. "Millions that could save a hundred thousand perishing souls. The greed!" Divalsky gripped her arm to stop her from voicing more opinions, shaking his head to her spluttering protests. "Not a good move, Marie. Best not do that right now." She fell silent once more. Ahead, the Naitrer's head was bowed low and intent, but his ears were twitching with open interest, mind churning furiously. They are so dead with me.

The imposing double doors that finally halted their advancements loomed high in front of them. It was plain and seemed almost new although a tiny speck of dust that surrounded its edge said otherwise. Gidon flung his arms open wide just before reaching the doorknob and the massive entrance flung open in a deliberately forceful blow of wind.

Marie instinctively hugged her violin case closer to herself, an action that earned a look of contempt from Gidon. She bit her tongue vexedly.

They resumed a brisk pace down the red carpeted halls, this time lined with glass cases containing many musical instruments; keyboard, percussion, string, wind and brass. The hall was decorated on a musical theme and it was clear how much effort had been put in to achieve such carvings of distinction. A haven for all musicians, the place was created to cater to the inhabitant's every whim. "This is the string quarters," Gidon announced in a booming voice, his echo bouncing and the floors vibrating in reaction. The fresh recruits started and tightened their grips around the cases. Gidon grinned malevolently, "Luinten, your quarters are in here, just look for the large sign above the doorway. You're in the second violin division so you will be staying with the rest of that lot as all greens begin. Only the concertmaster and his assistant get their own, but I'm sure you can find your way around here. If not, just start screaming and the guards will come running to help you, I'm sure." He turned towards Divalsky. "And you," he added," Your quarters are off down there," he pointed down a long open corridor furnished in a similar fashion. "It shouldn't be hard to find."

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I must remove myself from your honourable presence. Good night." And he vanished without warning or sound.

Marie raised her eyebrows dubiously. "Fat lot of help he has been, indeed." She hardly sounded amused.

He chuckled though. "Some people were just born that way, I expect. Nothing we can do about it."

"Yea, well, I still think we got the loosing end of the whole deal tonight, however it may seem." Divalsky could only laugh in reply to that. "But he's right on one thing though, unfortunately. It's getting pretty late already and I don't wish to become their latest stooge right now. See you tomorrow, at the City Square?"

"Where else?" he rejoined cheerfully. "You know me a little too well."

"Indeed I should, Divalsky Ghote," she remarked pointedly. "Now I'll have say goodnight."

He bowed chivalrously before disappearing as well down the leaning entrance that led to yet another red carpeted corridor to locate his own chambers. His night was not over yet; he still held tight a promise he intended to keep no matter how insignificant it rated now.

The quixotic nocturne drifted softly and gently, its soulful lure rousing afresh their euphoric fire. The mellifluous tone that sprung smoothly from its golden source was even more enchanting than before, and the muted lapping of tempered white horses stranded upon sandy beaches added credibility to the magical world in which the virtuoso was so expertly moulding assertively. Music was a swaying power that not all Naitrers were capable of understanding though they knew of the loathsome control it was capable of holding over people, and thought it baffling and terrifying. Terrifying in the sense that they had the intelligence to be aware that just about anyone who tried learning would eventually possess such frightening capability should they persevere in their efforts. And with those frightening skills would the power eventually be awakened. It was the reason why Marie and Divalsky had both been immediately accepted and whisked away to the Ensemble – so that they, as potential weapons could be kept in check by the government. For this was the way of life. It was the reason why the Naitrers hated all musicians so.

They were all partially hidden in the dark, the player's silhouette and occasional glint of gold the only evidence visible that the melodies did not simply come from nature herself as gifts, the only vague material focus point for the audience to concentrate on. There were more audience present there than met the eye at first, and many of them were crouching silently in various corners and heights, well camouflaged to attend the spontaneous event, ready to quickly fade into oblivion should the need arise. Never the less despite their stressful situation, they were all enthralled by the warm flowing tone that filled the air so gently with exquisite love and care. And their eyes brimmed with tears for the freedom they knew was lost.

The song dropped to a gradual end, as the final lingering note vibrated faintly and highly in the air, shimmering so fragilely as it did so that no one dared to move for fear of ruining the unworldly moment. Everyone held their breath in suspense, as the fascinatingly long tube was slowly lowered, and they traced every shadowed twitch of those slender fingers, impossible though it was. The hooded onlookers too remained frozen at the edge of the general patrons, too stunned to move. It seemed as though everything down to the smallest prowling ant had paused in respect. Yet there was only one person then capable of withdrawing himself from the melodious spell. "Bravo," the red-eyed man murmured into the hushed star-twinkling night.

"Bravo," a curly brown-haired child echoed unawarely. "Magnificent."

A murmur of approval began to ripple, like a still water stirring from the edge of disturbance. But no one made a move to clap. Sometimes, silence was the most rewarding praise achievable.

Divalsky held his trademark wistful gaze; absent-mindedly staring off into space to a place no one was privy to penetrate. A stray of crest moonlight bounced off his pale blond hair with eyes a calm sky blue. Traits that many Nyserns possessed themselves, though his colours were considered to give the strong impression of being a dimmer shade than was common. He made no customary bow, and simply walked serenely from the grassy plains that for the past hour or so, he had transformed into the gentry's throne of Nature.

Dawn broke gently over the slanted roof tiles in soft warm waves of chalcedony brilliance, illuminating the shadow corners with an unseen nudge. Like a boisterous child it speed carelessly through the still slumbering streets, slyly sneaking past curtained windows and the many tiny creaks beneath the doorways. Dogs barked their loud morning call as stray cats leaped agilely from adjoining rooftops with bodies wafting a suspicious smell of fish, while the few rats scampered down clean pipe drains at the sight of their bitter rivals in the sharp blink of an eye. And then the morning bell sounded, ringing out loud and spreading far – and the world awoke to the bustling calls of Nysern.

In the chambers located far within the academy, the instrumental players had long since stirred from their already cooling blankets, having dragged themselves somewhat forcefully with forgivable blunders from their lovely thermal blankets. Tummies satisfied the string group that contributed most to the amount of players in the academy, were already beginning to settle in their special practice area. The concertmaster, Piere Kashtrasn, began seeing to his group's various complains and technical problems with a slight air of exasperation. Professional though they all were, it still took some time to finally settle down to a less hectic atmosphere, while some pieces persistently hid from their players. Piere, in a short fit of explosion, ordered them to their seats and had them fined for an extra copy. "I will not have the entire group waiting just for you and ruining our practice sessions!"

Nodding to the tolerant pianist, Gustav Vonquart, he expertly turned the little knobs at the end of his violin before having the rest tune according to his pitch. That ordeal took notably fewer hassles. Marie, having met most of the players the night before, was placed beside the leader of the second violin group after they had perceived her to have the necessary ability. Barine was a nice girl with little patches of freckles lining her face, who had been more than willing to accommodate her new friend's various needs with admirable patience. And from what Marie saw thus far, her playing was already of an astounding standard and there was flying rumours of a possible promotion in store not far off. "Imagine," she giggled. "I'll finally get a higher salary." Marie could only manage a weak smile, knowing well that the rest of the group were hardly as open as Barine was.

Marie felt rather out of sorts when the string orchestra finally did begin its earnest work, partly due to the fact that her other musical friends simply did not play with as convincing and amateur an air. But then, everyone who made it into the group, even the weakest and least able of the lot was in their own right, a virtuoso, a soloist. It was just that here, in the academy, that was specifically the requirement needed simply to get in and she was glad that her level truly was not that far off. Competition for promotions would be stiff but she would survive, she was a fighter until the end after all.

"Here," Barine informed, "These are your only copies of the pieces we'll be playing in the upcoming festival and as you've already notice," she nodded slightly towards the leading Piere, "Our concert master doesn't take it too lightly in losing these little sheets of paper. Paying fines are only minor compared to the penance he's capable of dreaming up." She saw Marie's horrified expression. "Oh yes, he's allowed to do that, it's an acceptable practice though some view it to be a little unfair. But no matter, he's fair enough that the group manages to pull of great performances and that's what we're for, right? It's the only thing that matters here."

Marie could only manage a weak smile in response.

In another room ornamented in a similar fashion to that of the string practice room, the wind instruments stood gathered in orderly rows. The conductor, Nikolaus Kashkasian, was scheduled to practice with them on that day. Normally an unruly batch on any other day, the presence of the domineering character had swiftly stifled what little dirty humour the boys were dreaming of. And there were mainly males in the wind as an unspoken law; males were stronger and thus with bigger lungs and breath were better suited for wind instruments. But there, too, were some females present who, after the long time spent around the boys, were becoming as obstreperous as any other boy, and not just because of their natural ability in chattering all day at any hour. It was starting to become of a standing joke and thus it was hardly surprising that many conflicts broke out in the middle of rehearsals. And with the absence of both conductor and pianist, it sometimes led to physical fights – all bloody traces would always be carefully inspected and wiped away. After all, a fight was a good distraction that build up the mandatory personality needed to tackle the real world and such quarrels hardly lasted beyond the wooden doors.

It was just Divalsky's luck that he had to arrive on the unpleasant day the conductor choose to led their group. Everyone's sympathy was lent to him, but not too much. They were relieved that his presence would mean him being Nikolaus's guinea pig of the session. And they were supportive of him after the blameless impact he had previously given to the tight-knit group.

"Just stay through it bro," his roommate whispered empathetically. "You know we'll be behind you the entire way."

"He ain't as bad as he gives. His bark's worst than his bite, you know?" another winked understandingly.

"Don't let him get under your skin. I know I did before and trust me; it isn't pretty in the least. At least just try surviving through it and most importantly, keep your mouth shut."

"That's right, man, just shut him out all the way. We'll signal you if you need to hear what he has to say, though don't worry. It's just that most of the time he just seems to be scolding us."

"He's the one wasting time and he goes about lecturing on our own precious little time."

"He's getting old, Jon. Old people tend to forget what they say and do the stupidest, most contradictory thing imaginable."

"Will! I can't believe you just said that out so loud-"

A loud cough emitted from the entranceway, and there was immediate silence, with everyone shuffling into position.

The dark-haired man who entered hardly fit the image Divalsky had envisioned though he mercifully, he hid his surprise well enough – something he deduced the conductor could hardly have missed with those hawk eyes. Even shorter than his diminutive frame, Nikolaus looked to stand at a mere 5 feet. A meek mouse-like face and the soft near inaudible voice really did seem to contradict what everyone else so heatedly claimed him to be. Certainly he did not appear the typical slave driver, or was he a devil in disguise? Don't let 'em fool you. Will's then affable warning now felt highly unreliable. But he didn't shrug off the claim anyway, he couldn't. Something things just felt more important to brood on at that moment in time.

He looks like me. Divalsky stood one minuscule step away from the straight human line, there was even a suitable space for him to squeeze in but he didn't. He was a stranger and could not possibly think of hiding beneath the covers of his friends. They had all clearly suffered under those childlike hands that the pain the man was alleged to inflict more brutally than most, it was so hard to imagine, the man was hardly more than a child, surely! In the land of giants this man would be seen as a child, or more insultingly, a dwarf. It amazed him that there'd been no sneering jokes targeted at his height, when they were capable of making fun at other things. Were they really that afraid, why? He could not see any problem with Nikolaus, apart from their striking appearances as to which Divalsky hardly felt too pleased with. Soon they were all going to comment on it, or perhaps they had already begun. Only the man's button nose was the most conspicuous disparity between them, they could hardly expect him to feel too anxious in meeting the man. They would think him connected with the conductor, then rumours of favouritism would trickle in and possibly envy, and separation, and finally closing out on him. He was not going to like this.

It was a clear open space of several acres wide, and the only stationary object was a pronounced fountain spilling from the mouth of a marble-carved figurine, previous agate imported from Eelsa's mines itself. The price they'd paid was absurd but eventually, the people began taking a shy shine to it, and convinced themselves that the shooting taxes were profitable in the long-term after all, the Leader had been at his wisest in this precarious deal. And now it was the pride of every native Nysern. The poignant features was immobile upon a large rearing horse, and the warrior woman's strong angular cuts were clearly pulled but in strain. The carvers going so far as to cover parts of her in soot so as to catch a more intense of the essence of the battle for freedom. An impossibly one-sided fight against Nature for independence, and she had been the one leader who dared stand up above all cowering man, to pursue the dreams of all Nyserns. Scholars remained befuddled by the sudden withdraw of nature in her powerful fight, why she had just taken to heel at the sharp painful moment when everyone who've been crushed and… wiped out. Speculations were abuzz and even the smart alecks of the world could not comprehend the pointless retreat. And they couldn't help feeling perturbed whenever fresh rumours came by on the various routes and versions. They feared that the freedom they enjoyed now was a prison in guise.

People milled and regardless of race or nationality mingled sociably, pleasant greetings being called out even to those strangers to them. Conversations were quickly struck up and it hardly took much effort from either party to settle in a comfortable pace whistle going about their own business. Nyserns were a sociable lot, contrasting Eelsa's snobbish state where a certain stabbing coldness reigned supreme, and it was not from the weather. Visitors this time round arrived in cartloads, but they didn't stay for long either. The companionable air had its limits, and Nysern was sadly no exception to uplifting high status and stations, however hard they tried to slash it away. And over time the visitors would feel more comfortable and more subtle actions and words that were spilled from natives would seem to be suggesting something more hostile and evil. No country was ever free and good.

Portable stores and carts crowded the City Square's ceramic tiles, with vendors enticing many buyers with agreeable bargains. It was a standard market bazaar with the odd patrol sticking out at crowded sidewalks and running a random check on the quality of goods. Nysern did not want its market precinct to be thought badly of, and the rampage of thievery that happened elsewhere rarely occurred in Nysern. They believed first impressions to be absolutely vital.

The sphere of buildings that circled at the edges too held many strip malls and larger retailing business. It was a large living maze where a stranger could easily lose their way and one reason why children were rarely seen. Kidnappers were among the elite underground societies that did manage to escape free with their carefully organised abductions, and it was an embarrassing fact the police force were working hard to conceal from other nations. And successful was what they had tasted thus far, so much that some were already beginning to lose their initial zeal in tracking down the criminals. And with the tiny handful of vigilant force left from there, it was no wonder why the Nyserns feared to bring their tagging children along. There was no secret that some of these fraud squads were literally the masterminds of many covert underground stuns. No one could be trusted these days.

But there was another attraction that inevitably drew the crowd – the Nysern Performing Arts Academy. A building, or more appropriately a citadel, was counted among one of the several fortresses constructed within the capital city, and hundreds more throughout Nysern. Nysern always had and would be a fighting country and their greatest ally and foe was Eelsa, depending on the situation they faced. It was a risky partnership and hardly lasted more than necessary. The castles being build after the Eelsaans had repeatedly thrown waves of surprise attacks on their land while under the guise of signing a 'peace treaty'. But still there were many unions between Nyserns and Eelsaans, and so pure blood Nyserns were considered the highest of the lot, receiving instant status and high ranks. All an attempt to preserve the blood that ran in so little people, all in effort to create a society of elitists.

People said that when you went to Nysern those with grey eyes were elevated to the ranks of generals and commanders – it is true. The genes, according to local researchers and Naitrers, produced many grey-eyes between the union of two pure blooded Nysern. A study that spanned several centuries it had undergone much criticism, but had emerged as an official law in the end. So ranks were given to those with the right colouring of eyes, and those who gave birth to a child possessing 'common' eyes were instantly degraded. There had been much condemnation from the Nyserns, and those who were living well on such a basis simply kept quiet in turn. Births became of greater urgency and danger, pressurising the subject mothers. Rejection and divorce appeals were handed up in shiploads, and tension shot sky-high. But otherwise, these unfortunate laws did not completely wipe away the resilient bonds between every Nysern, so ignorant visitors left the nation as oblivious as they had arrived. It was a shaming secret Nyserns refused to boast of, and such implement laws were kept in dusty holes until they thought of asking. It was something that seldom came about, so Nysern's embarrassment remained a shrouded secret to all but the most inquisitive outsider.

Yet there still was much high-profiled humiliation that mothers kept to themselves. Especially power-seeking mothers with a willing side hand or cold-blood. Murdered mothers were not a sporadic issue.

Sweet churchly chorus blend in with the uncoordinated babble of socialism, a heavenly and powerfully intoxicating sound that temporarily halted all ongoing business. Then the anticipated orchestra tones that sailed through, high and strong, united and mind numbing. And somewhere in the distant the single notable piano that sings softly, sadly in contrast. It was a combined practice now; the Nyserns had even taken the initiative to draw out a timetable for such scheduled moments to begin. Music could never be forgone by them and it helped brightened their mood, and fuel the enthusiasm of many young struggling aspirants, The police force did not stop them for there was no law against such distinct sounds of rehearsals from the Nysern Symphony Orchestra. It truly was sweepingly power in a natural aspect.

"Listen carefully dear," a young mother bend down to her child. "That is what I hope you will one day be part of. Practice hard, your instructor will always be there for you, you've heard him say that many times. Take up his offer."

The little child remained unresponsive. He was too caught up in the dominant tones of a high-sounding piccolo. "Mama, what instrument is that? I want to learn it-"

After a while, the professionals return to their trade, gently easing their potential customer skilfully back into reality. With much experience on hand, and well aware of the numbing spell still exuded over them, they swiftly closed as many deals possible. The green buyers could hardly be prepared to face such unexpected mind-blowing tunes that blend so perfectly into their every day life. It was as though life with the absence of music was intolerable and would be like the Pits of Oblivion. The gradual dying tones to the orchestra did in fact create much heartaches and disappointments; the professional vendors had seen times when tears would even appear when they knew that the unseen performance was over. What the instrumentalist themselves must feel they did not know, but they did know of bargains and gains and fighting the drawing musical spell was like a barrier that tested their determination. And all sellers were none too reluctant in proving their skills. Or occasional bartering methods as well.

Babble resumes awkwardly, punctuated with many nervous laughter and uncertainty. A time of revival – all professionals knew that their bargains should have been struck before this period dawned. And different results are judged on the varying degrees of relief from them. The victims were those who'd come unprepared and there were happily many of them.

A remarkably short male eventually came sauntering in, hands concealed deep within his leather pockets, His blond hair curls gently at the neck around a pale yet somewhat refined façade, though his skinniness gives it a mouse look. Olive skin bounces off the welcoming light, almost accusingly in return. Divalsky capably wedged himself unobtrusively amidst the remarkably varying crowd, comforted that there were some others who stood shorter than him, people whom others did not consider to be children anymore. For he was sick of sticking out like a sore thumb, and even if the people he was subtly drawing compassion from were unaware and of different blood, he really did not mind. At least, on any other day.

"Divalsky!" Marie's soprano voice greeted him just as he was contemplating to vanishing down a small alley and with a small, suppressed sigh turned away from the temptation. His thoughts of sprinting into darkness was once more halted by the ubiquitous painfully tall girl. His annoyance well camouflaged, he turned smoothly to greet his dear friend. He loved her dearly, just not in the way most thought it to be, and he knew that she was getting the wrong impression as well. Some day, perhaps, when he called up the necessary bravery for such an undoubtedly hurtful confrontation. He could not leave things untied everywhere and risk tripping up at crucial points. His private welcoming talk with Nikolaus Kashkasian had been, eye wrenching and rather, mind-boggling.

"How did your group go, Marie?" he asked hurriedly, for once having got in the first word. She appeared to hesitate for a moment; eyes knotted in confusion before a teasing smile broke out against those flawless pink skin.

"They were great, Div, don't you worry." Her eyes twinkled in genuine laughter but Divalsky couldn't help feeling rather uneasy. Curse that drat conductor! The man had planted a strong seed of doubt within and he could already feel his words having nurtured and grown in within minutes, sprouting and spreading, intermingling with his more rational thoughts. He should have known to take more care to what his friends had said; though they needed have hinted so elusively. A veil over well-meaning advice, he was a fool not to have known!

"That's good then, Marie, really good," he began somewhat nervously, eyes darting as though he thought Nikolaus might have tracked him somehow, for some reason that completely escaped him. "I- good, good, really good…"

"Divalsky?" He shook his head to clear the murky confusion that was his askew thoughts. "Are you, em, alright there?"

"Huh?" he muttered vaguely, feeling a tidal wave of fatigue suddenly hitting him, blowing his head against the confining walls. So near, so close, too close – he was suffocating, he felt sick and weak, the effort had been too strenuous, he should not have been bullied so, though he knew he had the talent. He had been taught that way, the talent was simply not forcefully grasped and wrenched from its fountain, he could not be channelled. He should have stood up for what was right! He stood have stood by his believes!

"I-" He felt someone slapping his face and wanted the intruder to stop. "Sto-" Another bubble of confusion broke over his head, he felt weaker then ever, and his face and hands so cold, so numb. He felt like so many darting figures and shadows, persistently, like something was trying hard to whisk him away with them, and succeeding… Something, or someone, or was it simply himself battling his own shredded wits? He did not know, he couldn't possibly. He felt like sinking down to earth forever, to offer himself to nature with a polite note of appreciation. Too long he had allowed others to gain a foothold over him till that fact was no longer a fact worth mentioning or noting of. His personal privacy slashed into irreparable bits, so fine it hurt to even try to see its fraying edges. But no, even that little desire had to be snatched away, must probably stolen and thrown into the Pit of Oblivion where he himself should be, instead of being here. He wanted to be reincarnated, somehow, and it was a frightening wish. The slight beginnings of a shiver perked from his head, travelling into his cooling body, and the blissful mask of confusion submerged himself into total blankness.

For a while.

There was still one little bud yet to be squished and it did not hesitate in pushing itself up front, demanding pampering and lavished attentions. How he hated being on so much pressured demands! A sharp slap came across his face, add a nagging buzz that sounded closer than ever, and his mask seemed to be starting to slip away from his frantic groping mind. He was beginning to revive when he should not, when he must alive not for everyone's sake!

Oh really? Divalsky seemed another current as forceful as Sea's sweeping waves that were the very essence of deception. Calm and cool, so loving and warm, welcoming and appearing to be the only friend available. You advanced; you opened your heart out tentatively at first, certainly, but steadily gaining a foolish confidence. Then, snap! You were sunken.

Wasn't that the same with everyone else? The same dilemma that no one could be strong enough to withstand, on the simple pretext that the hearts of men were just too weak? Wasn't that exactly what all those well-paid philosophers claimed? Wasn't that something he had always known without anyone's help, because he too was an unwitting victim? Oh you stubborn begotten children, the weakness of all men was flesh and greed. And it was part of life too.

"Stop it." He groaned softly, weakly. He stirred feebly, scraping for little bits of rein over himself, and making unexpected progress. He thought a stunning surge of pounding hot blood was rushing a little too quickly than was natural, or healthy. But it did succeed in kicking awake his muffled conscience, perhaps just a fraction too much though. Somehow, he felt a need to admit that his unwilling stimulation was due to the large contribution of unrestrained noises. The kind that could so easily gnaw raw nerves to tatters.

Divalsky slowly felt himself being drawn but by the persistent calls, words he could barely absorb. Divalsky! Divalsky! Wake up, what's wrong? Another stab of draining pain, he just felt so sick and the strain that had been building over the past few days suddenly seemed to have managed to squeeze through his impregnable defences. And he was suffering the dreaded post biliousness.

Then abruptly, it all appeared to fade into idyllic quietness. His fevering body looked to have created a biological insulator suited against the offensive fuzziness. He could detect something wiping away the dampness on his forehead comfortingly, and was relieved. Slowly he regained more awareness, more energy that was flowing positively into him, and generally, a relieving wind that was unburdening him of the sick feeling. A rather persistent wind that responded to him, somehow. He wondered why.

An uncertain laugh and large oval shaped face crowded into his blinking version, dusted with a little coating of mirrored sparks. It was then that he felt something uncomfortable and hard pressing against his back and turning a confused eye at Marie wobbly resumed a more independent posture, a flush bringing out little more than the mere crimson blush. "I-" he fumbled, bemused.

Marie too was clearly puzzled though more amused than curious. "Really funny, Di. Very amusing, though very good too." He felt himself mentally wipe clear of all struggling expression, his phiz a complete blank. What in Sovek's name was could she be talking about?"

"Are you mad?" he asked incredulously, consciously wiping his sweating forehead.

"Mad?" she repeated indignantly. Now it seemed to be her turn at turning red, and he thought he could always see the red sparks flying pass. He braced himself for the oncoming verbal slaughter but was disappointed. She appeared to have trouble finding her tongue just as well. He almost backed away from her, the murderous expression hinting at an aggression fighting to surface and charge like a nose-ringed bull at its red flag. And he had a sneaky feeling that her flag was not simply a thin layer of dyed cloth.

"N –o, I'm most certainly not," she spluttered out. "But I might ask the same of you. What the – where you thinking of doing, suddenly falling like that and remaining a few inches above ground? You're a musician, not some acrobat. Stick to your profession, man! I'm surprised you even found time to learn such a thing, like you were being supported by thin air! The academy doesn't tolerate such behaviour and you're accusation is absolutely baseless!" she ended half-yelling. That drew several curious glances and though the police pretended not to note the minor commotion, they were keeping an eye on them. The rest of the probing looks were driven but by Marie's smouldering blue eyes. "I have never ever felt so insulted in my whole life!" she growled. "What do you have to say to that?"

"I-" Silence permeated between them but he could not go on any farther, he was still too dizzy and even finding his tongue around a simple word was like pushing against the stubborn mountains.

"That's it?" Marie's half raised her fist in anger but Divalsky remained outwardly unperturbed, while wincing at the mean indication. He could not understand why it was so that woman seemed so much more eager showing their knuckled fist than men, when men were supposedly the stronger and meaner of the lot. Philosophy wasn't always right after all; you never knew the hearts and minds of arbitrary woman.

"Divalsky Ghote." That could hardly be a good sign. Woman never mentioned a man's full name when they knew them well; it was like some kind of personal pride. And when they did, everyone knew that they were in for it. Just like a child before his mother, it was an unpleasant experience that began at infantry; he pondered the likelihood on his 'male reaction'. Perhaps women were more dominant then men in talk and men in physical fights? Perhaps they appeared more threatening because men simply did not fight as much as woman in their often naggy modes because the injuries were not worth it? But the tongue was a double-edged sword that could hurt the wielder. "Toi imprudent man," she murmured sadly. He blinked at her once, twice, just to be sure. Where was the wrath and all-consuming fire? Where was the volcanic eruption that would burn him to splintered crisp?

"Surely you didn't-"

"Of course I did, Di, what'd you think?" she waved it off impatiently. "You just went all pallid and frosty, your limbs went like… rigid and all and then you started to fall. It all happened so quickly that I couldn't catch but surprise surprise, you remained suspended inches above ground. Trust me, it's a neat trick and all, but I do not appreciate being made a fool in front of so many others. "She nodded casually to the nearest group of giggling bystanders. "Just between you and me, perhaps, but certainly not in the City Square of all places. Really, Di, I don't know what's wrong with you these days." She shook her head dejectedly. "I really don't-"

"Wait a minute," he grabbed her arm a tad little hardly and at her slight wince released almost immediately. He concentrated on the arm that now hung loosely by her side, drawing in deep calm breaths. "What- what do you mean about me being… wrong? I'm the same as always, and it was not a trick, Marie. I don't know what happened myself!" he protested angrily.

Marie rolled her eyes. "Yea sure, whatever you say Di, I'm sure I agree with you with all my heart deep down inside." She jabbed a finger directly at her heart exaggeratedly. Divalsky opened his mouth in disbelieve and tried getting a word in. "No, Di, you listen to me first." She waited for him to relax. "I appreciate you pretending not to know anything but-" she held up her hand in a halting gesture. "But there are limits and I truly do feel more relaxed now after that rehearsal." The look on her face could hardly be thought convincing. "But as I said, relax man! You're going to drive yourself nuts one day." She patted his sagged shoulders reassuringly. "Don't worry, you know I'll always be there for you. You know me too well otherwise."

An ironic quote, Divalsky contemplated sullenly. The pat would've been degrading if it had been anyone but Marie doing it, and it was because he knew they were mocking and highlighting his unfortunate height. And they knew of his uncomfortable awareness as well which only seemed to serve as adding salt to the joke. He hated it so much!

A long wide shadow seemed to fall over them, like a foggy beast baring its teeth at him hungrily, definitely scornfully. "Oh no," he muttered almost repulsively.

"What?" Marie swerved around to greet the monster.

"Marie!" the leviantan roared in its deafening rumble, and he felt a hopeless craven to not dare intervene. He waited frozen, all the while staring at the back of Marie's head, visualising the gruesome snapping of jaws that was the living guillotine. And for a moment, almost found the courage to shout out a warning and thus endangering himself. But the scream that escaped from Marie's throat instantly immobilised his voice. And he felt the stinging rage of defeat sounding loudly through him.

"Barine! Martha!" Marie knew the creature's name, he thought incredulously. And something told him that the creature possessed a vaguely familiar form and feature. He probed in the darkness for the answer.

Marie rushed forward to embrace her friends with astonishing keenness. She felt rather hurt that Divalsky had been so… disgusted with their presence and was somehow childishly determined to make him pay for that offence amongst many other little rather insignificant details. At least she could consider Barine and the rest of the second violin group to be, 'normal'. Or rather, she hoped so for Divalsky's queer actions were starting to catch up on her toleration. Him, of all people! She did not want anything regrettable to flare up after so many years of close friendship but a girl could only accept that much hurt and pain. His alienating gestures and words more than put her off, and his backing attempts to get away from her was a like an infesting hard core sore. She needed a break just then and their arrival was a godsend. Or so she hoped it to be.

Quick rounds of hugs were given out before she graciously returned to her lone standing friend. Thankfully he was standing firmly on his two feet, one shivering experience was more than enough, and she could still feel the goosebumps on her arms. How terrified she had been to suddenly see his glazed pair of eyes staring back, and then suddenly falling backwards, away from her. She had thought he was going to die for nature's sake!

"Divalsky?" she ventured cautiously. No provocation here, she hoped he would be able to remain neutral and normal. The burning eyes of her friends were more than visible and she licked her lips uncertainly. It was not as if her friends had invited her to join them but their actions certainly suggested it was so. Please do not repeat your little stun here, I don't want to be known as a freak! "Would you mind if I went with them now, I believe there some things we need to do." She cleared her throat suggestively. "You know, girl stuff." She felt so silly, adopting the foolish methods of flimsy little green girls but there was no other way she knew of. She had never faced such a dilemma before and that was the only kind of cool dismissal she had ever been exposed to. She wished she knew what the noble Eelsaan ladies would've done, most certainly with envious grace and ease, and still have men swooning after them! Some people were just born high and lucky. And others in the pigsty.

"Is that alright with you?" Marie repeatedly somewhat anxiously. When she got back to her room she was going to scream her frustration into that large fluffy blanket and hope that no one heard it, that it was a sound sponge. Hardly likely, things were spinning out of her control. He was alienating away from her for reasons unknown, reasons she would much rather not know because of fear that it might be rejection. Silly, true, but a fact in her secretive mind. She could not bare being dismissed little any other little servant girl come to entertain, she wanted to be part of someone's life, a shining point that existed to support another's life. A lifesaver, that was what she longed to be. And she knew exactly whom she had in mind for that. She would gladly grovel at his feet just to earn his acknowledgement but for now, it certainly wasn't suitable, or smart. There would only be shame and that ever-present stark fear of rebuff.

It did rankle however, that she was actually asking permission to spend time with other friends from Divalsky, treating him like someone standing higher than she was when he was not. Or was he in truth? Had their roles been reversed, and he had become the silent, charging leader of the pair? It was a worry, and relief in so many ways.

"It's your choice, Marie, I'm not trying to restrain you or anything." Divalsky's almost monotonous voice drifted in, he sounded bored! Marie tried to hide the spreading panic, that all her fears were beginning to come true, and for a moment, almost thought of shrugging off her request. But cruel remembrance of the frostiness she had felt emitting from him played its final card on her.

"I'll, em, catch you later? In the academy?" She hoped she sounded as off-handed as Divalsky had. Sovek knew that was harder than it sounded and the raised eyebrow indicated direct failure. She needed to leave, now. "So, em, this is goodbye for now?" Oh gods of nature, why did she have to sound so juvenile. She had not seen her wet nurse for years now and still she was acting like a true green girl. And there was clearly only one person alive in the world capable of reducing her to such a humble state. And she was hardly pleased at that.

"So long, Divalsky." She called casually over her back, feet wobbling traitorously. She so totally needed some desperate girl guidance, now!

Divalsky stared back at her vacantly, reluctant to allow his gaze to wonder away till the last shaking sight of her completely vanish, nor did he try following her either to prolong the last spacing moment. He inhaled deeply and forlornly, the dancing merriment of Marie's dazzling blue eyes still a clear solid image. His head throbbed gallingly, and he supposed it was the detour blood flow now gushing through his veins that was causing the nausea. Though he couldn't for the Light know how it worked, biologically. Perhaps a Naitrer might know, or worse, an albino. He shivered with revulsion.

The humming assemble of people had in the mean time returned to their trading routine. He smiled sourly as a couple passed by, swearing violently under their breath, their discretely striking colours isolating them from the natives. Another trusting victim entangled in the sly arts of bargaining again, it was to be expected. Nyserns were as demagogic as most Eelsaans were, and trading just conveniently remained in their top favour. As it always had.

Divalsky Ghote was sombre in his tread down the age-old pavements, lined with glass covered walls offering tantalising glimpses of the shop's products. And the food there was abundant. Meat, he figured eventually, was the one food that could perhaps suit his current temperament. Tough yet tender, he could imagine himself destroying a beast at luxury and it wouldn't even have strayed far from the truth. He smiled hauntingly.

Looking at the neon signs dangling and floating above air, he wondered distastefully how many of the owners had employed the art of Naitrers for private promotion. No longer was the conventional method of shouting out offers by doorways and bugging walkers satisfying for these economical minds, they needed to stick by the latest flashing trends that hardly evoked any enthusiasm on his traditional self. But that was simply his own believes, who would wish to listen to the silly words of a pygmy?

Lacing graceful fingers through cold-touched locks carelessly, he entered through the door of a bistro he hardly frequently. He was not looking for any acclamations and would most certainly chase off the people who did, standoffish gesture or no. He wanted to melt into the immaterial background and drown his sorrow for all the things nature had had speared through him. He did not deserve to feel so much pity for himself but he did, for he did not deserve to have some much hurt hurled at him. He wasn't strong as many were, like Marie, he could not bare being looked down and still felt gaucely surprised to have managed to live through the many down times and still arrive at a destination many others could only dream of. But he knew contritely that his success was due to Marie's prior support and incessant faith.

Divalsky choose an empty table discretely placed at the very end, satisfied to see the place nearly full. The owner and serving maids barely had enough spares to accompany him to the seat and when one did, he quickly waved her away. He could almost feel her sigh of relief but kept his brittle anger under tight rein. Her actions were not as they first seemed to be, there were too many guests under her eye to add him into that raucous lot as well. Good.

Slipping insouciantly onto the hard wooden seats, he leaned forward onto the table, folding hands thoughtfully on the ligneous table. The serving girl had not dismissed him from her guilt after all it seemed, and knitted his brows in concentrated anger as the girl walked closer to him. He'd never asked for anyone else's company if they did not wish to spend time with him but still they treated him as a responsibility, and grudgingly made some partial way for him in their schedule. He didn't want to feel their bitterness and if there were any guts in him he would've long told them to beat the bush and leave. But he couldn't because as it'd been with Marie, he dared not. He was such a bastard coward.

"Divalsky Ghote?" He hunched lowed; his abstracted nod the only reply. He sensed her discomfort clearer than ever, and was that shuffle of feet a hint of aversion? He lay his head on the crook of his arms tiredly, longing the day to come when people would enjoy being in his presence not only because of his music, but his personality as well. Served him right to have been born an unknown bastard, he thought. Pathorn Isle was the only place he knew to accept bastards just as they were, and even go so far as adopting them into their own cliques. If only that were so here. If only he was close enough to one of the visiting Isle folk to approach them for passage across the sea. But even if he did, he wouldn't have been able to drag himself away anyway. Nysern was the only place he'd ever known, and the Path of Light to Berayon was not a notion to fool around with. Nature knew those Naitrers could hardly be trusted, as Gidon had proved so effortlessly. Arrogant brats.

He supposed it was his pride that was keeping him wallowing in self-pity. "Divalsky?" The grating woman had not left yet, it seemed. How that galled him, even his cold shoulder was a defence that another didn't even know existed. He was going to lose it soon, he just knew it.

"There is a woman out there who wishes to have a seat with you, would you mind her company?" He raised his eyes sceptically, quizzically. The girl hardly sounded like she believed it herself or perhaps it was just some poor illusion. "Of course, I could always seat her somewhere else." She coughed uncomfortably but his eyes urged her on. "She says she doesn't want to seat alone and wishes to know a Nysern native and I thought you being alone here, you would… wouldn't mind her company?" she ended somewhat timidly. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, I'll just tell her that-"

"No, just send the woman here if you please. I wouldn't mind the company." He smiled reassuringly, feeling that his hardening eyes gave away the bold lie. The girl bowed in response and scurried off. Nysern native – what a scathing complement. He wondered how much it must've pained her to say that, let alone make such a decision. Nyserns had their pride.

It was the nation he had much against, just a selected few people who never appeared to enjoy his presence. And paranoia often led that to include the whole nation in his cerebral list.

"Hello Divalsky." He turned his head towards the tall blond. He could always turn her away; it was in his power and right to do so. But somehow, possibly the same source of weakest that channelled so much sorrow in his life, refused to let him act so quite ungracious. But oh, why did she have to begin their introduction so assumingly and confidently, when he did not even know her name. It was not what any cultured lady would have allowed to happen but perhaps, Isle folk weren't as polished as they cared to reveal. The tall blond that cast him in her dense figure shadow hardly possessed the native look of the Isle folks he had come across in experience. But there was always a first in everything, he could be mistaken. Genes were unpredictable little cells, as the Nysern society was emphasising everyday. And the climbing suicide and murder rates. He sighed deeply.

"What's wrong?" The girl sounded almost concerned and as she was not a native, he could almost allow himself to belief her genuine concern. But the abundant opportunities to fine tune the art of deception allowed him to bluff his way with soothing ease. A stranger deserved no ones confidence, least of all his, beautiful or not – some other Nysern folks might have argued violently over that dismissive assumption. He took a more careful look at the new arrival, whilst waving a seat opposite him.

The girl could not be older than him, he believed. But her graces led him to think her in a lower term and somehow, that mental statue gave him renewed confidence. A lustrous long blond hair paired with intense blue eyes now regarding him made a pretty combination. Typical Nysern, true, yet a class different from them all. A fine chiselled face, similar of many females he knew of and olive skin, he couldn't have missed that. A very common look, but uncommon for an Isle folk. She was more suited to become a Nysern native, he was certain the society would've taken an instant shine towards their playground's latest doll. He felt bitter; Marie's absence was digging deep.

"How do you… do?" The girl offered him one graceful hand and for a moment, he merely stared blankly back. The girl had seated herself so quietly, so contrasting to the shuffling and clumsy bumps other strangers were renowned for. He viewed her with renewed interest, faint as it was. He would not let himself forget about the mistreatment Marie had suffered under his hands and to remind himself of it was the only punishment he could think of.

"I'm Divalsky," he began but halted instantly. The look she gave was one of utter confusion and darn hilarity. "It's nice to see a new face here now and then," he continued formally. "And what might your name be, young lady?" A title, he thought grimly, that she should prove to be worthy of. Though he wasn't exactly the model gentleman thus far so the unfairly growing grudge against her could not be allowed to manifest and spread. Yet.

"Desmera Gedryt." A curiously common Isle folk name, he figured perhaps his summing of typical Isle looks had already failed its first litmus test.

The serving maid came back again, this time bringing drinks he did not recall ordering. His hands groped the curving cylinder steadily, speculating the possible turnout of this conversation. He settled on a more neutral tone, maddened with the mind games he was fooling around with himself. "A pretty name, for a pretty woman." Woman always did like compliments, and so did men. They just happened to be a little least demanding and attention seeking. She blushed, as was expected. "Have you seen the fountain yet, Desmera?" he asked gently, an earnest smile lighting awake the planes of his petite countenance. "Some Nysern artist often go there to draw, you know. For a paltry sum they're always ready to do one up quickly with you posing there. I'm sure it'll prove a great memento when you return to Pathorn Isle."

The girl looked slightly shocked, but recovered quickly enough to be impress him. "How- how did you know I was from the Isle?"

Curious, he reflected. No one had ever mentioned that particular detail though he'd always assumed, as was usual. And hit the right mark too, as to which he was thankful for. But it wouldn't do to let a stranger know that, would it. He felt he could like the girl enough to spend some time with her. Marie was gone for now with her friends, the other instrumentalist were probably at the other corner of the world for all he knew them to be alive. It was only fair he found a new companion to dawdle the time with before heading back to the academy. It sounded a tantalising prospect.

"Let's just say I was merely assuming," he laughed cheerily, winking playfully at her. "You don't know how great it is to hear you confirm my wild hypothesis!" A responding twinkle glowed back at him and the laugh she gave sent a thrill down his spine. Here was perhaps the very first person he had managed to charm immediately! He was ecstatic.

"Oh really?" she replied coyly. "And what other wild postulation have you made on me up till now?"

He grinned in reply while absent-mindedly stirring his purple drink. Purple, he hoped the beverage was drinkable, and not one of those crazy concoctions feisty vendors had stirred up. "Well," he began hesitantly, drawing out the moment. He winked at her. "What do you think?"

"How am I suppose to know? You're the one I was asking, don't answer a question with another question!"

"But aren't I answering your question? You just said so yourself!"

Desmera looked at him peculiarly, before shaking her head in disbelieve. "I did, didn't I? You sure are wily!"

He threw back his hands in instant defence, a mock show of amazement covering his features. "Me? How can it be possible, I never knew?"

She only burst out laughing.

They strolled past many other pairs looking the very reminiscent of so many other happy couples. Both were evidently comfortable with the other and on occasion, paused long enough to crack a joke at one another while the other erupted into peels of laughter. Onlookers gave them satisfied nods and went on their way, they did not want to shove themselves where they were uninvited and knew better than to violate privacy. "But what does privacy mean these days," a woman wondered aloud to her companion. "When the elitist can simply issue any warrant on their own to take over and control your family with no regard for anyone's feelings?"

Divalsky and Desmera did not link hands, though they stood close enough to each other to catch what the other was whispering discretely. One stood high and composed, bearing the smooth air of one used to rough treatment. The other notably diminutive carried a regal air hard to miss, something that more than made up for frame. They chatted amiably with one another, swapping tales that went from patriotism to morality and finally, politics. A discussion Divalsky was fiercely passionate in supporting.

"It is wrong, you know, the government is nothing like a government should be." He spoke very low and quiet, causing Desmera to strain in catching his cautiously heated words. Divalsky shot a cursory inspection around the jostling crowd, spotted the nearest patrol and resumed his defensive approach. "The elitist are everywhere and they are being supported by the nation because there is no one who dares stand up for what is right."

"What do you mean? Isn't this the same governing system it's had for centuries? Don't tell me they've adopted a new one, I wouldn't believe myself so out of touch on this." She protested faintly.

"I wish that were so," he muttered grimly. "Then perhaps there might be a higher chance of us standing up against these almighty folks. Monsters they are."

"But if this is the same system, then what is it you hate so avidly? Nysern once controlled Pathorn Isle and even Eelsa, even if it was only for a very short while. If it can conquer even the mightiest land, and still have a booming economy with a thriving society, surely there must be some goodness in it all?"

"Goodness, yes. Good news for the rich and lucky, bad news for the poor and unfortunate. They only ruled over Eelsa for two whole days, Desmera. I can't imagine that to be much of a feat to boost of."

"Ah well…"

"And there's plenty of fault I can tell you. Let's see now, what say we start on these stone slabs we're walking on right now? Do you know who commissioned for it? The government, naturally. But have you noticed that the texture the ground seems to differ from where all those buildings are? Yes? That's because the government refuses to help buy good quality limestone and instead, mixes it partially with sand as it nears the buildings. The owners have to pay for the extra limestone themselves even though they've already paid exorbitant taxes and add the little fact that there are still trucks of unused limestone in the government's storage. Mind you, we're not supposed to know that but as with so many other things, the secret leaked out and is a common element of life here."

Desmera moved just a little distance away from him when a sudden flash of anger came into his sky blue eyes. She had never favoured politicians before. "Are you in the government?" She was tempted to call him by his nickname but he had told her when they were joking together, when he had been a little friendlier than this. She eyed him warily – Nyserns had unusual habits and their sudden blow of cover could be dangerously acute sometimes. She was not going to fall victim again.

"Me? A politician?" he gaped at her. "Never!" he declared with a touch of wistfulness. "I wish…"

"Then what are you? All Nyserns are employed in something, aren't they, no matter how young you are to prepare you for maturity."

The woman was infuriating, he decided wearily. And very persistent to boot. "That is true, everyone begins as an apprentice to whoever is willing to take you on though you are allowed to learn from another if you have the spare pocket money and the particular master is willing." A very deep pocket, he added ruefully.

"I knew that," she waved impatiently. "But you still haven't answered me, what are you? Are you still an apprentice, a master, a professional?"

Divalsky raised a maddening eyebrow in question. "That's a lot of levels, which require lots of time and continuous effort," he began smoothly, grinning at the exasperated Desmera. "And what, may I ask, are you?"

"You don't need to know," she snapped. "If you haven't answered me yet."

Divalsky grinned openly at her, maintaining the perplexed pretense.

She raised her hands in desperation, before dropping them again with a huge sigh. "Fine. If you don't want to tell me, don't. I don't need to know." And started running away. "I'm eluding you just like you do with my questions!" she called loudly over her back, pace quickening as she found her running momentum. For a moment, it almost felt as though she was back on the golden shores of tropical Pathorn Isle, teasingly drawing away from little Agor. The hard echoes that bounced back shattered that faint illusion and she wondered in her heart how her little brother was coping with her absence. He needed to spend more time with kids his own age, not always tagging along with someone far older than him. He needed to really know his childhood so that in his manhood, he would have something to look back to and immerse himself in when times of hardship had descended with its consuming blackness. Their separation had been fated, and perhaps it was all for the best. A faint prickle of tears eased out of her closed eyelids. Regret and shame stirred anew. Finding more strength in herself, she turned back to check on the speeding Divalsky, amused to see him catching up on her, and impressed. "How'd you like it now, Divalsky?"

Feeling breathless, Divalsky kicked in limbs that had not been stretched or bullied for ages, coaxing them into suggestive run. Keeping his eyes on the grounds, allowing the thumping of heart and feet against hard stone blocks to urge him on.

"Divalsky!"

He skittered to a halt, barely, before a charging bull crashed into him, the impact sending them both sprawling onto the floor. He thought he saw glimmering stars winking out with desperate speed, and fear gripped him. He was not going to act the fool as it'd been with Marie, he was not going to embarrass another woman with his queer, uncontrollable actions. Breathing hard, he jolted suddenly when a throbbing punch drew his attention to a cheeky little face.

"Finally," the boy exclaimed. Another gasp escaped him as the boy squeezed him hard in what was supposed to be a baby bear hug. The boy was sure getting strong; the blacksmith was doing a fine job with the lad. "I thought you were trying to run away from me," the boy laughed cheerily, punching him in a way that only mature lads dared. "Until I saw her." He nodded and pointed meaningfully at the approaching Desmera. "Pretty, isn't she? You sure know how to catch the right ones, now I'm envious!" he went off into peels of ringing laughter. That appealed several responding smiles from the crowd.

"Geroff," he mumbled groggily.

"What? Can't hear you!" the lad leaned forward, pushing Divalsky farther back. The boy was getting a little too cheeky for his own good, and Divalsky's as well.

"Well well, what do we have here?" Divalsky sank lower into the ground. Oh shit.

"My gracious lady, it is a pleasure to be able to lay my meets on one so fine as you," he rose easily. The lad had barely seen his fourteenth cycle of summer and already he was acting like a seventeen! He was going to need some serious talking to, soon. He saw Desmera blushing and sighed in defeat. Trust Jim to get this right like every other perfectionist.

He rolled onto his feet agilely. "No that, my friend," Jim began. "Is impressive."

Divalsky rolled his eyes in reply, giving him an affectionate cuff. Jim was amusing most of the time; he just needed to learn to temper his jokester nature. "What do you want, Jim? I hardly believe that Blacksmith Rongt could've been cajoled into letting you off on a working day?" he wagged his eyebrows at the shame-faced lad. This kid was so going to get it when he went back, stroking the fires and cutting firewood seemed a possible outcome for him.

"We-e-ll," he began hesitantly. "I just thought I'd- since I saw you running by, I thought to… congratulate you on your acceptance into the academy!"

Divalsky stared back vacuously in return, before nodding in acceptance. "Thank you," he murmured. Both of them stared back at him in return, both on different grounds.

"I'd better leave now," Jim finally interjected uncomfortably. "He… Rongt wouldn't be too pleased if I don't report in soon. Bye." And he sped away, leaving behind the awkward scene.

Desmera settled a cool eye on Divalsky. "Well, what is this about the academy?" she asked in a jovial tone.

He could only shrug helplessly.

"Ah well, we'll just leave it at that then. Come on, the artists are waiting!" He was relieved when she went off first, allowing him to advance at a more luxuriant pace. Looking down at the pavements, he noted patches of rough treatment had left marks on the precious floor. Lightly waving his hand above it, he felt the delightful surge of power whirl through his control to fed into the ground, smoothing the pavements once more. They were as good as new. He allowed himself to relax, pushing away the element from his mind with practised ease and assurance. It was great being able to feel Wind flowing within him, knowing that nature had gifted him with such a precious asset as to which he was determined to keep as a secret until the time came to burst the bubble of secrecy. Naiters could not sense the power within each other unless they were in control of a similar element, and thus far, Gidon was the only other one he'd met. And the man was a master in fire, not wind. He smiled indulgently. No one should know that he possessed another talent far wilder and more powerful than the visible one.

Just you watch your step, nature; you have gifted the one person who could perhaps turn a master into a dog. Only time will tell, and the fate the gods have decided for me.

Divalsky placed his hands into his leather coat, fumbling about for the little cotton ball he'd placed there for comfort. A little ball he had been fooling around with, and consequently turned into a satisfactory thermal bottle. And gods it was getting as cold as Eelsa here! It hadn't happened since the time the Nyserns had controlled Eelsa and the Eelsaan Naitrers had sent the cold plague to cover Nysern!

The sheen of midnight veil covered the sky, pinned up by the numerous twinkling stars that shone with a sharp brilliance that pierced the eye to see. And far away beyond the host of gems, supposedly in the inane was where the decider of fate lived. Spinner of lives and Moulder of Earth, a kind and compassionate creator. Understanding and brilliant with a flaming golden image that could strike down anyone and anything should the creator wish it. Anything that had come into being by the creator's hands only, and that covered everything but nature.

High above in a solitary turret that jutted out like so many pointed spikes, it mirrored the frisky dance of shadows, while burning torches held an indistinguishable flame that only a Fireblader, a Master of Fire, could actually hope to put out. There hung a lugubrious scent seeping into its ancient grounds and towers, and the leaping flames quivered frequently, as though struggling against some unseen foe. Opaque windows that crowded the start of the proud bartizan's ascent held a fuzzy image of light and murky shadows that melted into light with disturbing motions. The academy had once been built as a fortress against all enemies, and it was the one building that had saved the downfall of Nysern into the grimy grips of Eelsa and their abhorrent betrayal.

The wind players clamoured to their various dormitories, jokes and rumours swapped with buzzing speed and casualness. Divalsky trotted up the many stairs that led to his own quarters in the tower, purposely passing his own door to continue onwards, upwards, hands clenching the golden flute that glimmered with an inner light of beauty. Faint mist escaped his nostrils as the air turned visibly colder and he wrapped the cloak that customarily clung around his broad shoulders in embracement. His every step was made with driven resolution, and he made the draining climb quietly.

There was hardly any wind up in the balcony that overlooked into the night, as he placed a brass key into the rusty hole. Nearly kicking open the creaking door, he winced as something metallic clanged its winding course down the hard stone steps. But there was no responding shout echoing from below so he merely breathed a deep sigh of relief, entered through the dusty way before cautiously shutting the door composedly.

It was a barren room, no furniture occupied its confined spaces due to its lack of inhabitants for centuries past. It had served as a place where battling archers had stayed, firing terrible rains of flame-licking bows into the hearts of its horde of enemy ranks. The place had more often turned into the target of many enemy Naitrer, eventually erupting into a hellish inferno. This was one of the very few turrets left, the others having been only recently constructed to house many other members of the academy. That would have been the tower's fate and while it still stood stoutly the archers that inflicting stormy blows had a first-rate view of the blazing inferno from below. It must've been a terrible yet momentous feeling, so much courage required to remain in a place where the enemies aimed at first. Where you were, in reality, standing in the first ranks of defenders. And it still held the magnificent overlooking scene onto the scarred battlements.

Divalsky noted the many burned marks that still clung faintly on the crumbling walls. He shuddered at the gruesome history it depicted and through the dense curtains of spider webs he thought the darker stains in far corners must have originated from somewhere closer at heart. He had no wish to remain longer in such a place longer than necessary.

Closing his eyes in meditation, he sought the blowing winds of his heart. It took only a moment but beads of delicate pearl had already decorated themselves on his forehead. It was only when he suddenly felt himself being taken over by an immaterial beast and felt himself assuming control over it did he know he had it. It was the power that needed strict guidance and the utmost concentration, no matter how trifle the matter was at hand. For the element was like a wild beast in its own level and capricious undertakings. If you let it into reign the results were irreversible, as he had nearly fatally found out. He had been lucky to have chanced upon a book on such gifted element powers and the clouding warnings were not soothing. Crippled, death or insanity was what lay in store for any who thought themselves immune to their own power, when they allowed arrogance to soaked into their then ballooned brains.

It was a stark fact, he mused, and one all Naitrers feared greatly. And so the vulnerability had been hurriedly layered and only those who took the initiative would know of such things. And then again, such books were limited so access was thinned down considerably. The Naitrers were not without added precaution when it was in their interest. Perhaps it was the one reason why he had found himself incessantly bored with Gidon's tactics in impressive Marie and himself. He shut the thought away; Marie was not on his list tonight.

Forming a porthole took scarcely any energy; only those who did not know the accurate method flattened themselves in the process. He thanked Gidon for having shown him the jealousy-protected secret – in his condescension he had failed to detect the likelihood of giving away things he would rather not have without personal gains. The outcome of the foolish and conceit was all he could conclude on. He hoped he would never turn into such a person.

A minute prick on his neck told him that he had settled into the necessary calmness and flexibility. Deftly wriggling through the many flowing elements connecting to his fingertips from the exterior, he steadily began a walk towards the open window. Nature beckoned and he felt the power surging coming on stronger than ever, more consuming till his every fibre was linked to the stirring winds. Wind was a powerful element, as was many others. He wondered what Gidon must feel when he called on Fire, was it all just heat and energy? Perhaps the catalyst for his sour mood swings? He might never know.

Placing a steady leg into the abyss that had opened before him, the endless tunnel of space, he swiftly entered. A steely primitive sense of wariness settled on him as he glanced around quickly for any unfriendly companions. There was none tonight. Urging himself on mentally, he felt himself speeding away into the darkness, legs unmoving while simultaneously closing the gap behind him, leaving just a minute prick of black behind for him to locate and return to. No one but a Naitrer could possibly feel let alone spot such an insignificant dot in the overwhelming shelter of shrouding blackness, and it was one of the reasons he preferred journeying during the night. One could create an endless tunnel of light, perhaps, but the effort would certainly require much more effort and skill, knowledge was requisite. Now all he had to do was arrive at the right direction – he hoped his uncanny sense of direction had not abandoned him tonight.

The anticipated pierce of light in front greeted him as he moved towards it – his mental detector in seeking locations was growing steadily quickly and hopefully, better. He send a wave of power into that single greenish-glowing spot, widening it before physically reaching. It had opened to a suitable height equipped with a distinguishable shape of a fuzzy doorway before he found himself stumbling through it into the night… and straight into a prickly bush.

"Very innovative, Divalsky."

He smiled wryly. "Why thank you," he retorted cynically though his eyes flickered in laughter. "I'm surprised you never knew." He winced, as a thousand prickles seemed to simultaneously stab into his side. At least they weren't poisonous – he hoped.

"I did, in fact. You seem to make a habit of unsettling me every time I feel like I've begun to know you."

A whistling knife wind cut into his ribs, its shaft punctuating his core. He rolled onto his feet quickly, smiling abashedly. "My mistake?"

Desmera looked back inquiringly. "Oh I don't know- can't say you arriving here out of the blues is not impressive, you just have to work more on the final surprise stage to make it more convincing." Before ending with a satisfied nod. "Yup, I certainly hadn't known you would be coming from behind me. That'll teach me…" she laughed.

The gods and nature were merciful, he thought in relief. She did not know of it, yet. But if she did and was hiding it from him, then she was craftier than he wished her to be. He felt uncomfortable hiding the secret from her and disliked the creeping, sneaky feeling that had accompanied him throughout, intensified since the day they had both met. That fateful day. But it was not as if they were engaged, it was not as if he held any obligations to the woman. He was free to leave immediately as she was and they both knew it. The only dilemma surfaced when neither was willing to take the first step back. He held his breath to subside his daft nerves.

A soft echo surrounded them. Sea flowed not far off in her ever-growing wrecking temper, but it was unusually calm tonight, granted still a red zone area. In his vision he saw the frothy cream that surfed on each rising wave, gently encircling the little patches of sodden ground in its journey, before being swept back jealously, fading once more into the whirling blackness. "Did you bring it?"

His eyes strayed back to her, standing so lonely detached, head cocked to one side in keen interest. He nodded conventionally, lifting the golden flute he had placed in his deep pocket compartments out of fear for dropping his precious instrument into oblivion, vague hopes of achieving greatness dashed upon the sharp, biting teeth of savage rocks. "Naturally." He responded smoothly.

"Play something for me. Please?"

She sounded so pleading and her request so genuine, that for a short moment he almost thought of her as Marie. Their height was proportionate, he could argue on that. It would be easy to mistake one for the other but there was one distinct dissimilarity. His feelings for them were as different as day and night. It was a romantic setting, hazardous as it was.

He held the familiar cylindrical metal body to the right, blowing across a hole to generate a high-pitched sound. A thrilling buzz spread through him as he settled on a piece he had purposely chosen for the night, a song no one had ever heard before. A song that spoke of Desmera's beauty that only required a vocalist to perfect the magic feel. The refrain flew out into the night and his mouth quirked at the time, before allowing himself to be sucked into his own mystical creation of unparalleled awesomeness.

Sea stirred.

She tossed and turned, the waves growing and stronger, yet just as quiet as it had been before when there had been tranquillity. Her pristine nature yet to be spoilt by some ill-fated wreckage tonight had given it and appetite for land creatures. Its belly groaned in agony while she listened on to the earthly tune resonating from the fragile land she had yet to establish domain over. She rumbled threateningly, seeking to wreak chaos. She lifted one massive limb towards the musical source, seeking to forever silence the intruder that filled her silent nights with joy that was not of her own making. She sought to kill.

A desperate scream tore through the air, so She quickly muffled the humdrum racket. Now one solid figure was caught and at Her mercy; She would flash a smile at her victim if she hadn't known that humans were simply too dumb to know it even existed, apart from an annoying handful. She contemplated sweeping up the other human that remained on solid ground, the one that still continued another part of the endless racket, who, instead of having run off like so many other past craven, their skulls now resting contentedly by her throne, remained stoutly in the exact same position when she had begun her unprovoked assault. She roared her displeasure at the disturbance and extended another watery limb more aggressively.

And crashed back against a solid resistance.

Stunned, she allowed her attack to resume a less ferocious stance, summing up the barrier. The obstacle that prevented her from swallowing another being – perhaps just having one alive and kicking as the human was now would be enough for the night. She rumbled disgruntedly, no one but one who was in control of her element could be left alone. The being was hers as clear as if the gods had declared to Her tonight, if she would not retreat!

There were unexpected advancements from the pitiful enemy. The being was trying to breach Her defence, of all things! She thundered mockingly, and sent a tremendous splash of freezing liquid inland. And jerked when it came roaring back at Her, every single droplet returning without having tasted the sweet warmth of hard dry land. Her mood blackened considerably at the offence and was irate. Half-pleased at the aroused anger she brought herself to an intimidating height, preparing for a launch of massive force to wipe out the land above water. Claim the area as her domain and the repugnant creature for a pet while the being lasted. Her entertainment never lasted long anyway; the land creatures simply weren't amusing enough to have Her put in much effort for preserving them. Disastrous for them, merely irritating for Her.

A suddenly blow sent her wailing back into a deep depth, as she felt something pulling viciously at her back, while another hand swapped Her in Her face. She flinched and wailed, roared and thrashed about against the attack, all in vain. She could not fight something She could not see and shame burning within her cruel harden core. She wasn't fighter a wielder of another element and She knew it to be Her bitter foe, Wind. Letting free a piercing wail in the frenzy of futile battle, Her limbs flailing uselessly, She released Her grip around the victim that was energetic as it had before. Oh but both of these beings were unusually strong and somehow, weirdly and perhaps cruelly, She thought she finally knew what it was to fear.

She backed away, but not without giving Her best slashes at the two beings, which failed as presumed. She retreated, and the waves that had rippled far off where ships were battling against another part of Her wrath, turned into full scale battle against the unfortunate souls onboard. She would choose a more likeable game and indulge Herself in it while it lasted.

Divalsky was aware of the danger but still he continued playing as Desmera had requested, even when a shuddering scream ripped through the air he persistently blew loving notes into the torrential force. A wave of intense heat seemed to shelter him from the sharp coldness that stung harmlessly outside his cover. He sensed a dangerous shifting of atmosphere in the air and, eyes closed, released lines of stronger more intense notes. His determination to continue despite a deadly cold settling into his now-numb fingers was fired by his fervid worry for Desmera, knowing he would never allow himself to continue living if anything ever happened to her. The one person who had opened the floodgates to something so beautiful and unintelligible, something so precious and yet too quickly overlooked by people like him that he now wondered ironically how it was that only hours before their fated meeting, he had thought that love did not exist. Warmth sparkled into his bluing fingers, and he raised the power he felt while stroking his elemental power with renewed strength.

He was untouchable, he was invincible, and he knew it. He knew that victory was near, that it was his because of his armed position. He had an extra weapon and Sea had indubitably made Her decision to seanap Desmera on impulse, foolish nature. Never assume to know the true power of a passionate Naitrer.

The slashing winds slowly receded before fading into the dark unseeing background. He could no longer sense the stirring buzzing bug at the back of his mind that had been jumping and chirping whenever danger lurked near fatality. It had gone just as quickly, as though having dispersed of its immaterial self into part of nature, yet always nearby to attach itself to him when required. And that unexpected feel of security was more than comforting as he almost mechanically continued his song. A love song, he realised with a slight start causing a note to wobble unevenly. He hurriedly recollected himself, and resumed his erect stance to end the piece. It somehow seemed imperative to not just leave it hanging in the air. So vital did it feel that he thought it was almost more than a warning, more like a threat to the easy win he had wrenched from the rebellious Sea. He sensed a stirring and longed to reach out and cup that fine chiselled face in his hands, dry those lovely olive skin himself and watch the gentle teasing sparkle of those intense blue eyes. And comb the long silky hair that was in such a luxuriously deep blond. Yet somehow, those yearnings were met with sudden disgust, was this what being lovesick meant? Was this how one felt when a loved one was in danger? Or was it simply some spiteful illusion meant to torment him? He felt his breath come apart in ragged gasps as he tore himself away from the flute, letting the golden fountain of dancing rainbows plop unceremoniously onto the coarse sandy beach, clinging and laying without a shred of dignity.

His knees buckled under fatigue and he too fell to the soft ground upon his knees. Head hanging he closed his sand-stung eyes to taste the bitter feel of tight victory. It had been a tighter struggle than he dared admit, surely no single Naitrer was capable on taking on Sea in her full power, let alone all of nature! And the seasons, the masters other nature! And what about the unknown master that both nature and season bowed before, that in all likelihood even the gods respected? Terror and hopelessness descended, wiping out all light in his closed vision.

It was black and empty, cold and silent. And despite the alien view, or unseen view, he felt strangely comforted and familiar. He called out but no voice came forth though he felt his tongue move to form the words. Who's there? He didn't know where he was but he felt he should. A menace loomed ahead; he seized the element that was waiting patiently by her side to be formed into the vague shape of a weapon. A windy weapon. He slashed out mercilessly and fearlessly, partly because he did not want to fall victim of the creeping enemy's own attacks. Better to attack first than be attacked and put on defence. The attacked always had the best advantage – he didn't know where that thought had emerged from, probably from the same book in which he had learnt much of his perilous trade. He shook his head partly in amusement and amazement. His attack was just as concentrated and fierce. Came out, he growled. Show your face, you cowardly bastard.

A nagging prick of unease had him pause a fraction. He cocked his head to one side and awaited the crushing blow that would finish him blow. Nothing came, though he was leaving himself free and open, unarmed and totally vulnerable. Now would be the time to take him down and squish his flame of life forever. But still the enemy seemed to resist against the temptation - he wondered why.

Fear permeated; he was breathing and living fear now, certainly paranoia. He struggled to maintain a more normal pulse – he hated being the victim of something unseen and unknown. For all he knew the enemy could be mocking him and since the enemy's position could not be pinpointed he could not possibly fire a sucking tornado in attack. Not that he was too certainly such a feat would be pulled off successfully; the choice was suitable enough in his own frantic mind.

Only one shall live, the others must die. See to it that it happens.

He blinked in surprise, though that made no difference to the blinding scene. The sound had drifted into the open just when he had adjusted to the void, and now his calm disposition was shattered once more. He groped about for more mental control, and drew an infuriating blank repeatedly. He couldn't believe it and thinking that the enemy, whoever he or they were, had ensnared him neatly in their hideous trap, he began bellowing in rage. He wrenched Wind and flung that element that bounced helter-skelter, but never enough to create even the faintest hint of a tornado, he dared not attempt that till more knowledge was at hand. It hadn't been such a great idea. He was not seeking to kill himself, not when his life suddenly held more meaning again… the academy, Marie, Desmera… it just wasn't smart…

Divalsky rolled into a jutting stone that was poking an irritating head out of the ground. It was a sharp blow that brought along excruciating pain. It felt like all hell had burrowed into his nerves, where his heart was pumping at sky-rating speeds. Clearer pain and all the mortal pain he should have already felt during the badly tipped battle shot through him, and refused to leave. He grimaced and bent double, feeling the irritating bug bites of sand sneaking into his thick clothing. He tried shaking it off whilst dealing with the agony, and much of them stung his opened blue eyes that were also frantically seeking out the shadow or any hint of Desmera Gedyrt. He immediately shut his eyes to shield against the minor attack of the sand. Pity, when compared to the one against Sea – that this was burning up more frustration and anger, more energy than against one of the most powerful nature in the world. Not that any other nature was less dangerous, Sea just happened to have a more famous reputation. She relished confrontations and publicity, that was for certain. While the others he suspected preferred the more conservative method of sneaking and manipulating. They were more treacherous, but less annoying.

A soft sound of whimpering disillusioned the torture he was hell-bent on making himself suffer through. What he was doing had to be worst than Marie had seen in the City Center; it felt ever so long ago, so irrelevant and just plain silly. And it seemed he was again inflicting guilt in the form of mental pain upon himself – it really did sound ridiculous. He wondered faintly what could've been the violinist's witty response. He was beginning to miss her now for her company was friendlier regardless of how the relationship was proceeding in recent days. She was being heartlessly cold and distant, spending more time with that Barine and the rest of that highly obnoxious group. He shuddered to imagine what petty ideas and whispered rumors they were plunging down innocent Marie's throat. Just how contaminated had she become, or was she smarter and stronger than he dared believed her to be for all her sharp, hot tempered words.

Vainly, he enjoyed thinking of himself as desirable. A bitter trembling sound of mirthful glee was whisked away by his Wind. His Wind. Yet another element, another possible foe who for the moment, was content in him controlling it to defeat its friend.

Unless the Natirer was stronger than the element he wishes to control, the element is capable of destroying the one who seeks to wield and bend it to their personal will. He shuddered irrevocably. That had been the first sentence he had come across and now, as he'd thought, had come back to haunt him. He plunged a fist into the sand, aided by the Wind that helped deepen the sandy gap. What he was trying to do, he didn't know. All he was aware of was the fact that he needed to channel his frustration and helplessness somewhere near and deep, very quickly. And even now, he was starting to feel the heated rage slowly ebbing away into the core of the world. Perhaps his emotions might be heard and interpreted by potential foes he didn't know, or cared either way. All he sought was a near and easy way to prevent himself from burning up in fever.

He closed his eyes in content, and used the primitive method of counting to ten. Once emptied of emotions, he staggered onto his leather-booted feet, smoothly dusting away the clinging grains of hard sand. Another trap laid barely for the fool and green to fall into. People like him.

Sending out an awaiting Wind, he had the element prod about the vast ground for his precious. Mission accomplished swiftly he then flickered his wrist gently, carefully guiding the flute to his outstretched arms. The cool dusty cylinder into his embrace, he waved the stray innocent Wind away.

"Desmera?" he called out softly, fingers tapping needlessly against the cold hard steel. A gentle whisper crept to him from afar as he gently blew out calling notes. Notes that sung into the night, prodding, carried by the Wind as he continued walking forward. Shifting sand halted before him, as Divalsky's steady pace quickened slightly at the shadow of a heaving heap. He felt torn, longing to reach out to his beloved, realizing that in the days spent secretly together, he had so quickly shifted loyalty and what could be called love. Only this love was blooming and quickly ripening, until the stale state it had grown in company of Marie. He had found the mate Nature had picked out for him, he was certain. Nothing else could possibly have stimulated and burning desire. It hurt him to see her in so much pain and terror, and angered him to remain so helpless. He found he simply could not bring himself to embrace her, as he should.

They stared silently at each other, only paces apart from each other. Her pleading, longing eyes of dizzying blue; his shifting withdrawn eyes of glazed sky-blue. Messy strands of blond hair swept back by the wind exposed the red throbbing flesh, undoubtedly inflicted by the blows of the merciless Sea. His fluting sound transmitted the love he held so tenderly for her, willing Desmera to understand the message. She stared at him with those depthless eyes, so gentle now like a calm temptress. He saw the spark of forgiving light shining in response, as joys of joys, Desmera finally nodded in acknowledgement. A grin broke over his face. She was so beautiful, so sweet and loving, and understanding. What more could one ask of a mate?

Divalsky gazed out into the myriad of skies glittering knowingly. He felt at peace, despite the recent incident. And he didn't know why. Slender fingers travelling expertly along the long flute, he picked his tempo even as he suddenly found himself pulling in the reins over Wind, feeling himself beginning to grip for control over the element he had always known was his to control. The wind stirred suddenly, but the air remained free of minute sand. Gusts of violent wind shot through the hole in his flute into the air, a tunnel of tightly knitted air flowing fiercely and dangerously. He found himself directing it into the edge of the lapping water, felt the sudden icy contact between Air and Water, before finding himself carrying it into the air. Water held in a container of swirling air. He commanded it to lay by Desmera's feet, and saw the hesitancy growing in her mind. Before abruptly reaching out to touch the goblet of air, fingers caressing the swirling edge. Divalsky shivered slightly despite himself.

"I want us to be engaged, Divalsky." That cool unperturbed tone startled him in a way the Sea had never managed. He nearly faltered in the weaving of his song. He stared back into those decisive eyes but did not trust himself to move.

"I know that it is what you wish as well." Confident and a suggestion of arrogance hung around the edge of her strong voice, and he found himself nodding mechanically.

"The prophecies claim that the absence of the acclaiming sextuplets of salvation will mean the end of the world, a world of eternal madness and suffering. The taint of madness is already creeping into the world and we all know that, we have already seen too many evidences of that to doubt." So strong, so frank, it was all he had ever wanted for in the woman of his dreams. "The sextuplets remain at large, there have been no solid fact on their whereabouts, let alone whether they are still alive. I want us to be married before the time of madness descends, Divalsky. I want us to be a pair before it becomes too late. I wish for us to be engaged."

Divalsky hated himself for only nodding in reply, but it did not change the fact that it was the only reaction he gave. But at least it appeared to be enough, Desmera seemed satisfied.

"The hour is late, I must be gone." She began to turn away from him, and that simple gesture had him screaming and begging in his heart, crying for her to not turn her back against him. He did not want to lost her!

"I shall see you tomorrow then, at the place we always meet." He nodded numbly.

"Goodnight, my love."