searingbond

Mm, I don't know. They look spectacular to me.

[ Chin upturned, Sciel is gazing skyward with a little half-smile. ...For a moment, before she returns her attention, and the smile, to the queen. ]

...But, I'll leave the danger for today to catching a glimpse of the highstorm. [ Maybe another time she'd try and convince Jasnah to let her see Shadesmar... ]

[ Jasnah leans back on the heel of one palm (her right, naturally) and cranes her neck to take in the stars. It's...nice, seeing something in a new light thanks to someone else's perspective. In this case, Sciel's joy at seeing the open, unfiltered sky — ??

Wonderful.

She presses her mouth into a line, nodding. ]

I can't help but wonder if your world is one of those stars up there. [ Wit had sorta-kinda-mostly explained to her the idea of space but it's still taking some getting used to. ] So close and so far, all at once.

[ At the suggestion that the place she'd come from might be 'up there' somewhere, Sciel merely smiles a pleasant, noncommittal smile. ]

Maybe. [ A pleasant, noncommittal answer. ] ...It's a nice thought. That I could just look up and have it be hanging there somewhere, looking back at me.

[ As if it were somewhere she could go back to someday. ]

There's a lot I'm glad to have down here, though. To look at.

[ Whether she's referring to her present company, the world and its wonders at large, or both... ]

[ It's...nice. Sitting, chatting with someone from a whole other world for whom Roshar feels new. Exciting. It had already been so old hat for Wit — and it always seemed as if he knew more about her own history than she did. Aggravating, even if it was also kind of attractive. ]

Apparently there's many. [ She catches Sciel's eye then tilts her head back up at the starts. ] Worlds. I can only name a handful of them.

"Many?" [ Sciel repeats, looking to Jasnah with her usual, piqued curiosity. ] And...does that mean a dozen, or hundreds?

[ Many worlds. Possibly visible in the night sky. The idea still seems so fantastical, even after everything she's been through, even after personally coming to this world from another.

Of course, gestrals and the Grandis had been the same. Mythical things come to life just as soon as they stepped out of their literal bubble. ]

[ A strange, small thrill ladders through Jasnah. Was this how he felt, she wonders? Every time he introduced a mystery she couldn't help but chase. It prompts her to lean in, just a little, and raise her gloved hand. She draws a line to a group of red stars. A kind of smudge of a constellation. ]

Taln's Scar. But someone once told me it's called something else on other planets. The Red Rip. The Starbelt. So that's at least two other worlds who can see the same landmarks in the same sky.

[ Surely, there's more. ]

Huh. [ Comes the thoughtful sound as Sciel follows the line Jasnah traces in the sky. ] Not sure I've heard of that one. What're some of the others?

[ Famously an enjoyer of laying under the stars, Sciel could rattle off some of the constellations they'd been able to see back home. But...first, she'd rather hear the queen point out the ones that do exist here, drawing the connections between how they're known on Roshar and on other worlds. ]

Though it'd be hard to find one that sounds cooler than that. [ She chuckles. ] All of its names are great, honestly.

[ It's information she shouldn't have. The different names for Taln's Scar. She certainly knows only the Rosharan names for what remains across the sky. Still, she tracks her fingertip across the night sky. ]

Reya's Tear. [ She indicates a very bright single star. ] And, there, that's Salas. The first of the moons.

[ A small, dim violet. It'll be visible for a couple hours before the 17th — before Nomon rises, and they enter the Hateful Hour. ]

[ Sciel has questions. Her curiosity may not have the same academic hunger as Lune's would, but she wonders with great interest about these things all the same. It's natural, isn't it? To want to know about your new home. And to learn more about the myriad worlds out there, too, if you've just learned that those others exist in the first place. ]

Was Reya a person? [ And: ] The first of how many moons?

[ She'll listen to whatever stories Jasnah has on offer. Or, if she either doesn't have answer or wants to move on, Sciel will just as happily hear what comes next in the queen's mapping of the stars overhead. ]

[ A silent nod answers Sciel's first question. Yes, Reya was a person. And if Jasnah avoids elaborating further, it's less her fault and more on account of (for once) canon has very little to say on the topic.

However, the moons...! ]

Three, [ she holds up her right (bare) hand and indicates three fingers, counting them down as she goes. ] Salas, Nomon, and Mishim. The three sisters, although in Natanatan, Nomon is a brother.

[ And then before she can stop herself, some horrid hangover of another person's bad habits rears itself in the back of her throat and she offers: ] Would you like to hear a story about one? About Mishim.

[ Hoid has a terrible way of lingering long after he's gone. ]

"In Natanatan?" [ Questions beget more questions. Hopefully the queen isn't opposed to the impromptu lesson -- this is all surely something children are taught in class -- because Sciel is looking at her expectantly, the piqued interest clear.

It seems Jasnah isn't opposed, or so she assumes when the other woman offers stories, and not just answers. ]

I would. [ Sciel affirms, eyes still bright. ] I'll even share one of my own after. Only seems fair.

Natanatan was one of the Silver Kingdoms. This is one of their stories. I'll — I'll try to tell it as they would, not as a historian would, so you must forgive me where the seams show.

[ She hesitates. Storytelling isn't her strongest suit. One might think it close to lecturing, but it's not quite. ]

Once, in Natanatan, there was Queen named Tsa. Sensible, by all accounts. And one day Mishim — the cleverest of the three moons, came to Queen Tsa. You see, she was curious about the mortal world. She tried to convince Tsa to switch places with her, just for one night. She promised all the glories of the heavens, of stars that sang, of sights no human eye was meant to witness. Again and again, Tsa refused her. Such things were not for mortals, Tsa said. And that should have been the end of it.

Mishim tried one last thing. She told Tsa that one of her towers had a flaw — structural, subtle, visible only from above. A queen, the story claims, can't ignore that. And so Tsa agreed to trade places for a single night. It would be dangerous, course. Mishim warns Tsa that her brother, Nomon, must not notice. Tsa promises to behave as a moon ought to behave. And to look only upon her towers.

So. Tsa ascended, and Mishim descended.

[ Jasnah's mouth quirks. This part is usually told with enthusiasm. ]

Mishim feasted. Danced. Laughed. She forgot herself entirely, until dawn crept in and she realized too late that she had overstayed. Having to wait for night to return, she was forced to spend the day on Roshar. She hid, terrified her siblings would discover her deception.

When Salas rose, and then blue Nomon, neither scolded her. When at last Tsa rose as the moon, Mishim called out, demanding to know what had happened. And Tsa told her the truth. Nomon and Salas had noticed the swap immediately. They had welcomed her. Sang to her. Feasted with her in the heavens. Mishim — clever Mishim — had never been invited to such things by her siblings. She grew jealous. And when Tsa mused aloud that perhaps she might remain a moon forever, Mishim learned how to feel loss. She protested. Accused. Tsa had broken her promise. But Tsa replied, calmly, that Nomon himself had given his permission. Still, eventually, she agreed to return. A queen, after all, has responsibilities.

That night, as Mishim rose once more. Restored. Months later, passing over Tsa's city, she saw something so surprising. Tsa stood holding a child. A boy, faintly blue of skin. Blue, like Nomon.

Only then did Mishim realize she had been outwitted. Tsa's protests had been something of a pretext. She'd wanted one night in the heavens — not for wonder or merriment, but for a divine legacy for her lineage. The people of Natan say their blue skin marks them as Nomon's descendants.

[ Jasnah shrugs, suggesting she doesn't believe it. ]

I doubt this story is evidence of divine heredity, and moons are not...reproductively compatible with mortals in any meaningful sense. But it is a remarkably efficient way to teach children that cleverness is not synonymous with wisdom.

[ She glances at Sciel, softer now. ]

And that even gods should be cautious when they underestimate a woman who knows exactly what she wants.

[ Sciel listens with rapt, easy attention in the way of someone who really hears you when you speak: eyes bright, leaning in slightly, lips parted in wonder. It's a parable, like the kinds of things parents on any world might share with their children, and it reminds her of telling stories to the kids in her class who had likely sat with the same enraptured faces through all of the exciting twists and turns.

It helps that her teacher, in this case, is Jasnah. As she's confessed to the queen herself, Sciel suspects Jasnah could talk to her about most things and make them sound interesting, and not just because they're components of a strange, new world. ]

A good lesson for anybody. [ The former Expeditioner chuckles when it's over, leaning back a little so she can turn her eyes skyward again. ] ...I really like that story. We didn't really have gods, but...the idea that humans could trick them is inspiring, isn't it? It's also a testament to the idea that everyone -- everything -- has a weakness, no matter how powerful. Or...that everyone is capable of impossible things, if they only go about it the right way.

[ The Paintress is their closest equivalent to a god, and unsuccessful decades upon decades of Expeditioners throwing themselves at the mission of destroying her hadn't dissuaded them. ...Not all of them, anyway. Whatever the ultimate result, the 33s had managed some impossibilities.

Sciel draws her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and keeping her gaze above. ]

...Why are they blue, d'you think? [ She asks after a pause, finally looking back to Jasnah. ]

[ If anyone asked Jasnah — storms, even if they didn't ask — she'd say that Roshar also has no gods. Only beings so powerful that they might be mistaken for something godlike. But the Natanatans worshipped the moon as if they were divine, and the story speaks to something deep and instinctual. She appreciates it for the slanted piece of history it is.

Sciel asks her question and she hums, thoughtful. Truth be told, she hadn't anticipated she'd end up plumbing the depths of Rosharan anthropology. But she likes Sciel's curiosity, and feels inclined to meet it — meet her — where she stands. ]

Conventional scholarship suggests that, ages ago, the people of Natan intermingled with the Siah-Amians. Humanoid, but not human. And very, very blue. I tend to agree with the theory.

[ She watches Sciel who watches the stars. ]

[ The words are all still so foreign, and she endeavors to sort through them all and find their place in her growing (and intimidating) mental guide to Roshar. It's a task better suited for Lune (she thinks, for about the hundredth time), but that doesn't mean she isn't going to make an effort. Far from it. ]

I see. [ You know, to the degree that she can. It's at least easy to picture blue people. ] It's...strange, being in a place with the kind of history that you have. All of you. [ Not just the Alethi, but everyone on Roshar. ] Coming from a world where we just had the one city-...well, unless you count the gestrals and the Grandis, which you should. One human city, then. [ With a short-lived history, considering a lot of the pre-Fracture details have been lost with the event itself. ] It makes me feel like we Lumiérans are...I dunno, babies by comparison.

[ With so much potential for growth. Now lost. ]

I wish I could bring more of what was ours here, to show you. But...I'm awful in the kitchen, so the bread's out. And I'm not a musician, either. [ Sciel shrugs, letting these minute failures be water off her back. ] All I can really share are the stories.

One human city.

[ A low, thoughtful sigh. It's strange to imagine! One human city, and that's the boundaries of most lives until they're snatched away. Or they reach for more — even if that more means mostly more death, more hardship, more failure. ]

Still. The stories must be good ones. [ Desperation breeds good stories, Hoid told her. Once. ] I often find stories and folklore are the quickest, best way to understand a people. Not a popular stance among historians — but one I'm fond of.

We do still manage to have good stories, yeah. [ There's some entertainment and levity to be found even amid all of the seriousness and death. ] ...That makes sense though, doesn't it? What are the morals or bits of history that're so importnat to people that they pass them down through generations? Not everything's going to make it, so...what they put value in should be at least somewhat obvious.

[ That is: she agrees with Jasnah's stance. Not for the first time. ]

Speaking of... [ Stories, that is. ] Would you rather hear about some of those non-humans, or about some of the more celestial myths?

[ For the record: the non-humans had also been myths until Sciel and the other 33s had reached the Continent and met them. ]

[ Sciel gets it. And Jasnah's mouth quirks, almost smiling. But the real warmth comes in the soft, slight tilt of her head. An acknowledging nod. ]

Hmm. A difficult choice. [ In the end, she greedily intends to have both. ] Let's start with the — gestrals, you said?

Gestrals. [ Sciel confirms. If gestral figures exist on Roshar, then Jasnah will know exactly what the things look like...more or less. ] Wooden, human-sized creatures that're generally considered myth, even though the first expedition -- Expedition Zero -- talked about them when they returned. [ Those who did return, anyway. ] I don't think I really believed they existed until I saw them for myself. Spent a lot of time in their village, actually... I ended up there on my own pretty early on, and since I didn't [ want or expect to live much longer ] really know what to do next, I started fighting in their arena. Became champion, actually. [ There's a thoughtful cant of her head as she drops back into those fights, recalling her adversaries. ] They love fighting, and some of them are even good at it. But usually it's just somebody you feel kind of bad about going up against, though they'd never, ever back down.

[ It's one thing when the gestral is some big, hulking guy. It's another when it's a little one that has small dog energy. ]

So they respect those they see as great warriors, obviously. Helps that they don't actually die; they're eventually...resurrected? Reincarnated? In their Sacred River. [ Sciel shrugs one shoulder, humming. ] I've never seen it happen myself, but I know it works that way.

[ It's one thing to hear a story about creatures who aren't human. Quite another to hear about creatures made of...of wood? And as Sciel continues, she can't help but wonder if they don't sound more like spren. Because, like these gestrals, spren don't actually die either.

Jasnah's head tilts. As sometimes happens, she looks a little like she's listening to something or someone else. Ivory whispers a private word in her ear. She exhales through her nose. Looking thoughtful. ]

Curious.

[ Jasnah shifts, minutely, as if crowding a little closer to the campfire. ]

Did they live up to their myths?

Definitely. [ Sciel replies, voice emphatic. ] Better than the myths. We traveled with one during the Expedition: Monoco. He... [ ...Is hard to describe, as evidenced by the pause in which she considers the right adjectives for their hairy friend. ] ...Was surprisingly wise, actually. He and Verso would get up to all kinds of ridiculous things, but Monoco also had a lot to say that was unexpectedly helpful. Guess that comes with living a few lifetimes.

[ Even if gestrals don't carry their identities over between those lives, she assumes some bits and pieces carry through. ]

He could also transform himself into Nevrons. Very useful in a fight. [ There's a beat; her expression twitches toward some mix of amusement and puzzlement. ] He'd have to have the leg of that Nevron first to manage it, though. Meant he talked a lot about feet.

...The leg?

[ Idly, she glances down at her own legs — draped under a split havah, clothed in plain fabric trousers under that split skirt. Like the scouts wear. A wiggle of her right leg where it sits, bent, on the bench. ]

Why a leg? How odd. Would a hand or a head not suffice?

The leg. [ Sciel repeats. ] He never explained and, honestly, I never asked. Somehow I think he'd just have said something like "why, indeed" in a mysterious voice, and then never actually answer.

[ Verso probably knows the reason, but that doesn't help anybody right now. Sciel shifts where she sits, returning her attention to the queen and affixing her with a relaxed smile, leaning back against the weight of her hands. ]

Far as I know, he's the only gestral who can do it. [ beat ] Could do it. Again: no idea why.

[ ...Aren't mysterious, mystical creatures kinda annoying? Her expression crinkles with a flicker of empathy. Even so, it's a fascinating topic. And she might have liked the opportunity to dig deeper. Sometimes, perception is an important factor in mysteries like these. Maybe legs meant something on an emotional, cognitive level — and that importance drifted into the physical.

Idle conjecture. The kind that just spins and wheels in the back of her mind, but doesn't quite deserve the light of day. ]

And transforming into a...[ a pause while she remembers the word, ] Nevron. That was helpful?

Nevron, right. [ There's a brief nod at that, then a slight tilt of the head. ] Mm, they're basically just...monsters, honestly. And, yes: it was very helpful. We were a talented group, but having someone with us who could make use of Nevrons' own abilities against them definitely came in handy.

[ To match their strength, to make use of certain elemental weaknesses...the list goes on. ]

Not just offensive, either. Monoco could transform into something that could increase your movement speed, or heal. Truly a jack-of-all-trades, that one.

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