Below the Earth

I sit back on my heels, cocking my head just slightly in surprise. Brink of hell? And why was his head suddenly full of so much emotion?
"I sang." I say calmly. "It's what I do. Whatever you were doing, it quite took the mickey out of you. You ought to be more careful." I rummage in my bag, and pull out a thin flask, a tea of Gineseng, Saint John's Wort, and Crab apple. "Here. Drink this. It'll help you feel a bit better."

He takes a swig of the strange tea and cringes. "I can't even get a cup of Earl grey anymore eh?" he takes another swig seeing the frown on the woman's face. "I was making this." He holds up his sword and shows it to her. "In my younger years I was quite the fencer. I can't hold a gun anymore, not since the war..." he trails off.

"Thank you for what you did." he looks away. "I must have over exerted myself, after that blow, and watching the Priest's mental chemistry for the past few days has taken it's toll on me. Forging this sword took a lot of control and energy. I put myself into it, I guess I just used a little too much of myself."

He pulls his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up. "Thank you for the tea, and the healing."

I nod, acknowledging the thanks.
For a long moment, we sit together quietly. I study the blade. Physically it's a lovely weapon. But it's the other elements that really enhance it. "That's lovely work." I say. "And it will be a great weapon. It's said when metal takes a form by will, not forced by the heat and the hammer, it's far greater than any other." I glance over at Edgeworth...Nicholas, that's his first name. I ought to use it. "I heard you calling it out of the stone. You do good work. It's not many men I've known that can speak to stone and metal." Then I smile. "Though I wouldn't do it too often if I were you. You're about the color of a fish's belly, lad." I want to ask about the war. What war? I bite the questions back. Patience.

Edgeworth takes a long drag off his cigarette and exhales slowly. The torment of his life playing out in his eyes. "The second great World War."

He closes his eyes. "I was born in 1919, and my life was quite dandy until my 20's." his voice is strained. "I lost a lot of things in the war, my sanity is almost on that list." another long drag from the cigarette.

He changes the subject futilely knowing that it won't matter. She's interested in his life, and the war is a large part of it. "Most people don't know that how you make steel is you have to get as many of the impurities of carbon out of it before you add other metals to create an alloy. This blade has absolutely no raw carbon in it, it is the purest steel." he picks it up and admires it for a moment before setting it back down on his lap.

I look at him for a long moment, then, carefully, lay a hand on his shoulder. The Second World War. A bad time, from what I've read. I made a point of leaving for my mother's land when war grew close. I can't imagine living through it. Then I straighten. "A blade like that should have a name." I say quietly, changing the subject as he wishes to.
For a long moment, I look into Nicholas's eyes. Then I lay my hand on the blade, listening, feeling the song of it. Some blades leap for the fray. Not this one. It's got a sense of calm to it, a pure, clean sense. It does not lust. It simply is, shining bright in the darkness. The shine of it seems to push back the endless night.
"Eadrom." I say, giving the word the weight it deserves. "Light in darkness."
Then I stand. "And you need a rest. Come sit by the fire." The man moves wearily. As he stares into the fire, we speak, but very little. After a time, I quietly begin to sing.
"Look for me wandering off through the mists
Look for me ambling ‘twixt grain and grist
Look for me hearkening ‘ere any cry
Search for me sleeping ‘twixt earth and sky

Hush now and wander,oceans to sail
Go now and gather gold leaf and grail
Know now the secret all in between
Find now the treasury, silent, unseen"
By the second verse, he's asleep. I weave peace into the words, the sense of safety and contentment, the quiet of sleep without dreaming.

"May you go wandering twixt dark and light
May you go hurtling higher than height
Follow the endless trails far as you can
Always you’ll return where you began

Hush now and wander, never a fear
Always I’ll hold you, ever so dear
Follow the endless trails, far may you roam
Ever you’ll welcome be
Ever your home."

The last words drift into the deep, sleeping silence. I smile quietly. Moving quietly, I cover him in his blanket, then look over my friends. They all will sleep peacefully tonight, sleep without fears. I nod to myself. Then I curl up, and finally, I too am asleep.

I smile for a moment, I think i am getting the hang of the meditation, sitting quietly I watch as the two exchange words, once the others are firmly asleep I pull the spear across my lap, the burns from a few nights before are mostly faded already. The spear was well made but the haft will only take a couple more times before it will need to be replaced. Damn. However this was a good test. I glance over at Kaija's sleeping form, I have seen the way that the darkness is effecting her and the others. It worries me how easy it was to become accustomed to this. but the visions float across my eyes again, the black mirror and the twisted images within, was it a warning, or a prediction. I don't know. I lean the spear against my shoulder and leaning my head back to watch the others

Eventually I cant sit still any longer, taking the coat i had wrapped so much Carapace in I begin rummaging through the pockets, searching for the good wire, and the few hand tools I got in the habit of carrying this time around. once cleaned of tissue and the grime accumulated the pieces of shell are very pretty. Soon I am carefully working the pieces into approximate shapes needed. each careful scrap leaving me more and more covered pale shell-dust. some of the smaller chunks left from the legs are easily worked into grieves and bracers, it is working on a chest piece and back plate that will be difficult. It will need to be shaped to cover the vitals but still allow the wearer freedom of movement for their fighting style. A part of me sighs internally, what I wouldn't give for some good Chain or even simple leather, but this will do for now I suppose.

The river here is cold. Deeply cold, sharp as winter. I push my way through the water, push to the surface. Darkness. The river beneath the earth, again. The same dream. Someone must really want me to get this message.
The woman on the bank is looking at me this time, grass-green eyes sharp, attentive...and almost amused, I think. She holds out a hand, a gesture of greeting.
"Who are you?" I ask. She smiles, and lays a finger over her lips. I try another tack. "Why do you walk here? Why have you called me?"
"For my boy." she says, her voice low and sweet as the sound of a pipe. "He needs watching over. Care for him, Storyteller."
With a smile, she leans forward, her bright hair gleaming in the darkness, and runs a hand over the fur on my head. "Tell him I'm beside him. Always."

I sit up, shaking my head. Well, that was strange. I shake myself again, then look around. Almost everyone's still asleep. Liam's sitting to one side, working away on something in his lap. I sit still. My boy. Look after my boy, she said. Looking over the group, I snort to myself. My boy? She could have said which boy. We have five men in this little group, and from what I've seen they all need looking after, considering how often they get themselves hurt or into trouble. The way things have been going, I'm starting to feel a little like Wendy with the Lost Boys.
I stretch languidly. I dearly hope that woman stays out of my head now that I've got the message. This is getting to be annoying.

The darkness is clinging, assaulting the dim flicking of the flame fixed by the our alchemist. I wake, peering out into the darkness; the days blend and I pray to see the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. Sylus curls at my feet, and I reach to scratch at his ears before curling up again beneath my coat. I've fallen behind on my meditations, but right now, I'm too tired to focus on anything but the dark. Stones rattle distantly, and I curl further, pulling the leather of the scabbard close and closing my eyes tighter against the dark.

I watch Djhuety as he rolls over. "You awake?" I say softly, staring into the fire. For a moment, he only curls deeper. Sylus glances up at me, winks, then prods Djhuety's sleeping form with a taloned paw.

Ignacy snoozes in the corner with his bag beside him sleeping infrequent mutters coming from him something along the lines of "i am... the bat" or "why do you want to kill me?!" in a low growling voice

I yelp and roll over, staring daggers at Sylus. "Imp." I mutter sharply under my breath. I sit straight and rub at the back of my head with a free hand. Sylus peers up innocently, the effect diminished a little by the coquettish grin playing at the edges of his beak. I groan and aim a light kick at him.

"You're awake now." Sylus says, leaping aside lightly. I grin. "Nice job. About time you woke, slug-a-bed."

the creature comes flying at me from the kick im interrupted in the middle of a "why do you want to kill me!?" and my voice changes from a low growling sound to a high pitched scream in the end.

I wince, casting the darkest look I can at the screaming figure, fireworks exploding across my temples. "Keep it down... Please..." I growl, just a shade over the sound made by a tiger when you step on its tail. I reach into my coat and pull out a pair of flasks, peer through the gloom and unscrew the lid and down a swallow of the amber fluid. My throat burns for a moment, and a moment later, the pain dulls to a low throb in the back ground.

I frown at the red and grey swirls running through his mind. "Drinking isn't a good way to deal with pain, lad. Bad for you. Here..." I reach into my satchel, pulling out a flask. "A little skullcap, a little willow bark, a little ginesing, a lot of caffeine. Drink that. You'll feel better."

"As if the caffeine is any better for you," I say, gratefully excepting the offering.

i stretched and looked on the creature that had assaulted me scrutinizing it carefully while holding it by its neck, "i was in the middle of a good dream".

Sylus blinks, and with out any obvious movement lands on Ignacy shoulder, whispering in his ear, "Not my fault," he says, clicking his beak with a hint of menace, "And leave your hands to yourself, Destroyer." He then vanishes into the dark outside the light, his iridescent blue feathers melting into the dark faster then any shade.

I roll my eyes, and stand, stretching. Between the two of them, Ignacy and Djhuety's antics have woken the rest of the group, though not in a good way. Kiaja's hand is still on her knife, and she's looking warily between the two. Edgeworth is slowly lowering his blade, and Priest is glaring daggers at all and sundry. Only Liam is calm, looking at the others with a raised brow. I smile wryly. "Good morning, everyone. Well, now that we're all up, let's get moving, shall we?We've still got a long road ahead."
We snack on a little of the smoked fish I prepared from my last kill as we walk. It's not much of a breakfast, but it's better than nothing. I let my legs fall into the rhythm of the roads, let my mind wander. That dream. Strangest thing. my fingers play with the hem of my denim jacket as I think, staring into the darkness, lost in reverie. The more I puzzle over the dream, the less sense it seems to make. If someone is strong enough to enter my dreams, why not watch their charge in person? Strange...and worrisome.

I watch Liv move steadily at the lead of the pack, her fingers distractedly playing with the hem of her coat, her eyes somehow beyond the road. I step my pace up to a light jog and fall into step beside her. "You seem lost; need a direction?" I smile at her.

I glance up, and smile. "I'd like to tell the direction by a shadow cast by a proper sun again. I'm not particularly enamored of this darkness." I glance away. "It leaves me restless, and too prone to dreams. I'll be glad when we're well out of this."

I nod, understanding. "I don't sleep and I don't seem to wake up; its like being trapped in perpetual twilight and I think I'm starting to have trouble seeing the difference between the dreams and the reality. We're almost out, we have to be almost out." I suggest hopefully, eyes trained ahead, searching for real light. "You having bad dreams again?"

"Not bad per se...just...strange." I brush my curls back distractedly. "I've dreamed of a red haired woman a few times now. And they don't feel like my dreams. They feel...well, they feel like sending. Messages. And it worries me that she can reach my dreams so easily. I'm not that easy to tap in on, normally." I glance ahead, thoughtful. Then, feeling Djhuety's gaze on me, I shrug. "But on the other hand, it may be nothing. May just be me working myself up. Don't worry about it."

I falter a step, recover, and match Liv's pace once again, curiosity etched on my face. "A red haired woman? Did she say anything? Did she seem familiar to you at all?" There is an edge to my voice, a slight tonal shift in the upper register
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