Incline 38: Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar

"I suppose that's everything I'm going to find..." I mutter, somewhat sick and tired of seeing tablets for the time being. I put the last one down, and let my magic carry them off to their respective shelves. My eyes find the softest spots they can between my armour, an almost impossible task, and they rub away.

"Indeed." Sister Pymonsia chirps, her laconic response an almost agitating emulation. I look away from my comforting rub and stare. Long and hard. Her smirk grows, and she offers me a wink, her fingers flexing for me to follow. Sluggishly, I do so, the chair creaking as I exert myself far harder than I normally might when my head is lighter. 

The key to the library section enters my grip, dancing between my fingers and I close the door behind me. Locking it up once again, feeling the brunt of the spells and runes, once again. I move away, not particularly interested in triggering such defences. My stride matches Sister Pymonsia's and while I wouldn't mind speaking to the librarian some more, I have affairs to attend to.

Attitude-rich as it might come across, I do not have time to be doing much else. So I just leave the key on her desk and wave farewell. Sister Pymonsia finishes applying the magic to her tablet, and she sets it aside, under her arm. Her hair finally flowing free once again. 

"So... What is the plan, exactly?" I ask, never letting my eyes part from the engraved rock and the magic allowing its 'pages' to exist. Though Sister Pymonsia has no reason to be secretive with it. I did help her write it all down, after all. Her actions still feel like it, anyway.

"For now, I believe the best thing we can do is keep it quiet. Find a quiet moment to look the details over. It might have meaning, it might not. It's as you quite rightly thought earlier, Sister Vapooliar." she explains, and I nod away, looking about as the halls become familiar once again. It's a strange experience, finding ourselves back in line with the route to the artefact.

I flew away when I had the vision, the wind rushed past me and I was soaring. Yet, here we are again already. Time has gone by and I have no idea why or how. Just a feeling...? Or is the artefact toying with me again?

"Ok." I go in such a strange manner that must baffle Sister Pymonsia. I draw my blade, eyeing it with some casual regard, and then I test its edge. This is not a dream or another vision. It can't be.

"Right, that reminds me. Given the circumstances, you are currently experiencing. It might be prudent for me to change where you typically rest. Barracks destruction aside." she tells me and I nod, not all that interested in arguing or combating the point. A good night's sleep will do me well. Even if life's current circumstances didn't happen, a good rest benefits everyone. 

Soldiers especially.

"I am fine with that." I eventually find myself answering as the tunnel to the artefact comes into slight view. Not the clearest, but I can almost feel my curiosity demand my presence there. It's an ignorable demand, however. Certainly helps that Sister Pymonsia is coming between me and the tunnel, though.

"We'll wait for the Zaphadren-Valkinvar in the Chamber of War. She'll no doubt head that way. The other two already are." Sister Pymonsia points out and I frown.

"Will we let them know?" I ask, and she tentatively touches the tablet.

"Best not, for the moment. I don't want issues coming out of this. What you experienced, Vapooliar, has drastic implications for the Valkinvar. Visions are one thing, divine visions are another. Even in the legends about the time of heroes like Thunder, you rarely hear of them. The mythology of our world, All-That-Remains, is quite particular." Sister Pymonsia muses, her depth of knowledge not quite showing its vast, abyssal width and depth. But I get her all the same.

"I'll lie and say it's your diary, then." I chuckle, putting my thoughts on funnier pastures as her pout comes to the fore.

"Oh, you're so mean to your good friend!" she giggles, hiding her lips behind a rising hand and its gentle pressing of said lips.

"I'm nasty." I go, adding to the joke with such insincere anger as the Chamber of War opens up to us. The treasures of the nearest vault leave us be and I take in the vast room. Not quite sure what to make of it being so empty. Only in its centre, where the Points of the Compass are gathered, is there any life.

Even the temple guards and chosen honour guards are nowhere to be seen.

"Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia." the Bordeaon-Valkinvar, Baalaeun greets. His eyes look me over as we float down, but he offers me no words. Steel grinds against steel as his arms cross over, pushing the plates together. Almost threatening to break them as his thick length of a moustache sparkles with wind magic's pure taint.

I offer a salute either way, getting one from him as is appropriate. I look the way of my own, personal Point of the Compass, Noustoster-Valkinvar Aimaboryim. She keeps herself emotionally distant, even with how the last time she spoke to me, she was all but praising my 'promotion' and the chest that bears it. Though she's not exactly discriminating, as she's not got anything to say to Sister Pymonsia, either.

"I take it that the Zaphadren-Valkinvar has not graced you two with a visit?" Sister Pymonsia asks, her voice losing its prior joy and turning hot with restrained anger. With the vision happening when it did, occupying my mind the way it has... It's easy to forget that we came this way to address the incident at the Great Bridge. The clash of Ordoars and the overreach of the Zaphadren-Valkinvar's authority.

"No. She's not answered any immediate summons and I know full well the message was delivered." Bordeaon-Valkinvar Baalaeun snorts, his own frustrations quite clear as the air continues to scream in pain. Steel against steel is such a rough sound. A dangerous sound.

"I mostly found myself this way, offering an ear to Gruff over here." Sister Aimaboryim remarks, snatching a snort right out of the Bordeaon-Valkinvar's jaws.

"Well, now that I'm here. We might get somewhere with it." Sister Pymonsia says, catching the attention of the pair and hopefully setting aside any built up tension. Much as I don't want to be involved with the politics of the Points of the Compass. They've found me, anyway. 

Sister Pymonsia's issues with the Zaphadren-Valkinvar. Whatever tensions there are between Brother Baalaeun and Sister Aimaboryim... Anything that loops back to Sister Pymonsia and then right back to the Zaphadren-Valkinvar and...! Gods and goddesses above, I want no part of it and yet, I'm forced to be around it.

Sister Aimaboryim shifts her footing, moving closer and coming before me. Her cold, distant features melt away, showing a slight smile. Her hand lands on my shoulder, shaking it about while her eyes are almost paranoid. The fear of seemingly choosing favourites.

"Don't be so down and miserable, Valkinvar-*Imdvarce* Vapooliar. There's no hatred between us. Besides, with the stuff you're made of, you belong in my place more than me," she jokes and snides, her pride for me being in her Ordoar echoing about the Chamber of War. Almost making it the Chamber of Me. I try to smile at her words, though it fades away as her emotions flatline to their typical sense of distance.

The necessity of being a leader of so many Valkinvar... I don't understand how she can do it. I don't think I would ever be able to do it. But, maybe that's what she means with I belong there more than her? She felt it necessary to leave so much behind in order to lead, but I would refuse no matter the pain? 

I suppose, since losing my sacred virginity, I've certainly shown a strength of character unexpected of a Valkinvar. I came back to the war, even with my death now no longer a rewarding heaven at Waionr's side. I'm still fighting, or, at the very least, with everything that is going on... Trying to fight. It's anyone's guess as to what her true thoughts are.

But, I'm glad I get to at least feel some warmth from her when most of my time of knowing her has always seen her as a distant figure. Someone who cannot afford to be close to those under her charge. An almost mythical figure with too many mouths to listen to, a voice too weak to reach all those ears. All Ordoars have officers and the like, but only the Ordoar Imdvarce really has the scale of it in the same way a normal army has it.

"Pride in our own aside, we need to consider what matters," Brother Baalaeun speaks up over, his voice grating and attention-grabbing.

"Yes, yes, the war." Sister Pymonsia is almost dismissive about as she builds up a stuttering sigh. It comes out of her nose, giving off such an oddly prickly air as it hits my spirit. To hear such words and tone from her sounds unreal. Then again, my path to this point started the same way when I dealt with a man like Grand-Thoucomm Pathort...

Faithless wretch deserved his death at the heretics hands.

"While I understand tempers are high, given what is currently whistling all throughout the city. One must consider that the Ordoar Wiswipide and their efforts to ail the other half of the city are concerns." Brother Baalaeun points out.

"And if you've ever actually been other there, Bordeaon-Valkinvar, you would know just how little magic actually goes into helping the people. Thurnmourer-Thunlanann might seem impressive with all the numbers in your head. But like any good witch knows, a million soldiers from the lowlands are nothing compared to a thousand emerald-blooded witches!" Sister Pymonsia growls, the very idea of abandoning her sacred charge driving her almost animalistic.

"We need all the power we can gather to push the front-lines. Whatever the Zaphadren-Valkinvar wants, be damned. She makes a damn fine point about your split efforts, Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia. Yours is the only realm still under even the firmest chance of our control and we've yet to push it back into your fold!" Brother Baalaeun explains, his fists tightening.

"You know full well I cannot order a reconquest on my own, regardless!" Sister Pymonsia cautions, her voice full of easily picked up hidden meaning.

"You two, settle down. Now!" Sister Aimaboryim warns the pair as I back up. Their magics are not out in force, but the air is certainly denser for all the wrath bubbling about.

"Of course." Sister Pymonsia agrees, a sneer on her face towards the Bordeaon-Valkinvar.

"P-Perhaps a change in the topic...?" I suggest, looking to my friend as she continues to clutch the tablet detailing my vision. Her eyes widen, and she shakes my head at me. But, with their tempers flaring the way they are, I ignore her. I take the tablet into my hands, Sister Pymonsia's grip absurdly weak for how her expression has otherwise been. And I show off the prize.

Sister Aimaboryim takes the tablet up, digging in almost instantly. Brother Baalaeun throws a palm up, shaking his head with a silent signal. He turns towards me and Sister Pymonsia, clearly expecting a quick summary of the affairs. I awkwardly twist about, raising a half limp arm.

"Uh... The chamber with the Crown of Conceptual War... I had a vision within it." I say, stumbling over my words in a manner more appropriate for a child than a Valkinvar. Brother Baalaeun's posture and expression mellow out, his eyes taking on a different kind of severity.

"That is... Quite the change in topic," he admits, almost flabbergasted to acknowledge that Sister Pymonsia is corroborating my feelings. 

"The record is quite in depth in that regard. Now, you say in it that you were investigating the Zaphadren-Valkinvar, too?" Sister Aimaboryim asks and a cold, sapphire wind blows in.

"Investigating me? Whatever for?" the named woman in question asks, her magic nowhere near as icy as her voice. We turn her way as she walks in through the ceremonial tunnel for the Zaphadren-Valkinvar. Sister Pymonsia makes her decision and she gently takes back the tablet from Sister Aimaboryim. 

"Sister Vapooliar here had a vision. Within the chamber holding one of the artefacts of Waionr. The vision seemed to centre heavily around the Ordoar Staguiffmani. A night time battle of some kind, one involving a figure from the Seven-Peaks Union of Jherikra. Sister Vapooliar seems convinced it's Prince Jhrartur." Sister Pymonsia explains, and the Zaphadren-Valkinvar's eyes snap up, frightfully instant.

"The Prince-to-Ascend Jhrartur." she corrects, her tone oddly forceful for such a thing as she snatches up the tablet, reading away at its contents.