"How can I aid you, Farseer?" The Exarch asked, his body stood tall and stern as though he was forever on the edge of tenseness; expecting, at any moment, something to attack him. "My Striking Scorpions all fell, but even alone I offer my services on behalf of my war council."
<Farseer Aranethyr> "I need you to set up a provisional shrine, Exarch. Here on the Anam Alqethyr. We need an Exarch to give our Aspects their rites before one of their self-donned war-masks shatters and drive our kindred insane... Or worse." The Seer finally sat, his breathing was the sound of crystal trampled underfoot. "There is an empty dome at the very top of the Anam, before the chamber of the solar sails. Just ask the Infinity Matrix to change the environment to whichever you prefer and ask our Artisan to reproduce your banner."
<Esthrella of Anamnialoc> "Anamnialoc is a very small craftworld, Kais... I knew all of them by name. Besides-" she began, waving her fingers in-between those of the Artisan and burrowing her face in his hand like a Lynx in need. "And if I didn't know them by name, their absence will still haunt me first-hand. Take Yrishkatrol, for example. He was our baker. Tomorrow I shall have an Archéian wheat bread, as I do every morning-cycle, but I can assure you, it won't be the same. Or Taleera, who was our tailor. Whenever I need a new outfit or amend my clothes, they won't have her signature style."
<Artisan> The man added the other hand to caress her head, around her skull. "I understand you very well. I felt like you when my mentor died." Zryas-Vehd voice was soft and he held back his sorrow as good as possible, for if he would break so she would. He had to be strong for her, just like he was strong before for Aranethyr. "Just don't forget them, honor them in memories, my gardener. Place plants in their names, after their personalities and caress them, love them like you loved them as person. So I craft everything to my utmost best, to honor my mentor." He casted a smile upon his lips, taking her gentle by the shoulders, pulling her up as he stood up himself. One hand on her cheek and chin, the other on her shoulder. "Do not succumb into depression, but turn the loss into positive energy. Let it amplify your abilities, never forget them and always remember. It is painful, but it is Eldar. To ignore such, would be foolish and self-harming on long-term, for you would live in denial and so ultimately out of real life. To fall into sorrow over them, would lead you to damnation. Become a better Eldar by grasping those memories and always carry them within you." He took a deep breath before making his final sentence. "How would we know beauty without ugliness, how would we know love without hatred, how would we know good without evil?" Zryas-Vehd left her to answer the questions herself and gave her a fatherly kiss on her forehead, apparently not just helping her, but also himself to avoid to despair.
<Architect> The Magos Errant couldn't hear the voices that whispered in his ear, neither he could see the appraising dead that recognized him as a worthy Life form. He simply stood there, waiting for answers, until a familiar face wandered in, almost casually. "I am the Spiritseer of this shrine," said he. It was that man that had objected to have the human in the sanctuary. "And you are only standing because the dead have seen your worth." There was an arrogance in the Seer's voice, and also a light misstep in the way he moved - he had participated in the battle for the Anam. "Speak your questions... Human, and I shall relay the answers of the dead."
(OOC: Zyras-Vehd! *Adopts nagging pose.*) <Architect> The Bonesingers worked the entire cycle to restore the Chambers of Isha to its former glory - the wounded and the dead first, the other facilities could wait. The floors self-washed all the blood and the gore, the burn marks could in time heal by their own - only structural damage required the attention of the Bonesingers. The art engraved in the surfaces would have to wait for the Artisans. In time, Daeva came around to Kholivaz's side. Astora had left to fulfil her duties. As she collected all the runes that hovered upon the Commorrite's body she seemed to hum a melody - "knock, knock, knocking on the Infinity Circuit..."
<Esthrella of Anamnialoc> "I shall honour them to the best of my capabilities," she nodded, stepping back. She seemed to regret having shown such vulnerability. "Thank you again, for the speech and the talk. Got me in the correct mindset once again."
<Artisan> Zryas-Vehd sighed in disappointment of himself and sat back down. Her was obviously not helped, otherwise why would she back off him? The Path of Awakening, always a curse that kept scratching on his soul, making him aware of everything around. The truth behind the masks the Eldar wore, which in fact was their gazes. He was never good with people, that is why he turned to Vaul. To work with machines, constructs, engines, wraithbone. Things that would be not affected by his word, but would shape to the use of others. The Yme-Locian lowered his head to look into his lap, acting as if requiring to fix his robes as he stroke them straight, tugged them to straighten them further. Slow and steady he moved, as if buying time for himself and for the Gardener to leave, so they would not need to suffer the other any longer. <Trykasil> The Crimson-Hunter clad Guardian did not sprint but marched quick, straight toward the Chambers of Isha. The steps echoing through the halls which could already be heard by the people within. <Aspect Warrior> Irritated by the heavy steps, but too deep delved into his memories, the man was unaware of what was about to come. Assuming just a Guardian to take position in hurry or a healer or perhaps even the Artisan who just finished his speech a short time ago.
