The Weeks After the Ball: Golben

[Dulcie]

"You sound so sure. I have my doubts" She said in regard to the entrance. "Though I have some admiration for it's maker. Who created this place? The Mind Witch?" She was genuinely curious about it.

She rolled her eyes about the lack of opening her heart being a part of what made her a monster. "Humans are so obsessed with loving things, people, themselves. It's a nice thing to think about I suppose. There's no guarantees of course that if I were human I still wouldn't have loved and harmed little Gloria. From her lack of parents and siblings I imagine the humanity she was exposed to was perhaps as monsterous as I am, if not more so. You have a very narrow view you know, has anyone ever told you that?"

She listened to his theories and shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. Tragedy doesn't taste any better than joy. It's emotion I feed from. Stories that speak to the heart that elicit either great joy or great sorrow, those are the most fulfilling. I've told happy stories to you know. Havent you spoken to the innkeeper? Poor thing, she was so lonely."

[Glenn]

"If you have to know, I sold, to Thessilane through third parties, metal that Aleksei River specifically obtained using Zilliah's money to create his fool contraption for parting the lake in order to get Catch's horn. I used that money for the beginnings of the material once the lake drained. This is after Catch blew up the gaol you see. It was still a lapse on my part. Sometimes, well, that's my next story." He waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway, I put Councilor Berdini in charge of it. He's a fiend but not in any way anyone can prove. He's the Councilor for the arts, can't you tell?"

He scoffed at her next words. "I have a narrow world view because I care too much about love. I'd like to see someone write a poem about that, or a song."

"Then why would you ever tell stories that led to pain and hurt, Duckling?" She was contradicting herself. "Boredom?"

[Dulcie]

"Hmm, I'd like to meet this Berdini fellow. You know I could have told you a much better story to have built something like this. Your folly was leaving it to a human."

An unnecessary poke at his situation. He asked his question about her tales and shrugged. "Pain and hurt are sometimes stronger emotions than love and joy. Not always mind you. It all depends on who the tale is for."

"Now then, about getting out of here, are you ready yet?"

[Glenn]

"And what would have been the point? If we just relied upon your stories for everything, if we relied upon magic for anything, then nothing would have any meaning. If no work or toil or effort went into our lives, we'd be running around empty, just characters in one of your stories without any life to us. When things are too easy, nothing matters at all." It was the difference between what he had been trying to build and what Rhaena Olwak wanted to build. "It's maddening that you spend so much time with us, that you spend so much time swimming amidst our joy and sorrow and you don't understand a single thing. It really was a glamour, wasn't it?" He'd spin about and reach out to poke her in the side with the iron tipped staff. "The last thing you are is a wise, old anything."

He promised her a third part to his story, but he didn't feel like offering it up right now. Poking her was far more necessary.

[Dulcie]

"So stubborn. Magic for some things, and not the other. What's the difference?" She said, and from the corner of her eyes she'd see that walking stick moving, and her own would shift, her hands on it in a defensive stance as she blocked the poke that was directed towards her, the iron hitting the wooden staff, making the runes upon it flare a bright green.

"Ahh now, that was less than kind. Am I to take this as a sign that we should be adversaries? I've been so nice you know, there could have been stories about monsters and craters in the earth by now if I had wanted you gone."

[Glenn]

"Magic when there's no other choice. Magic to fight other magic. Magic to save a life that can't otherwise be saved. I won't close doors for my people if there's no choice, Duckling. We're fighting dark things. There's always a cost though. There is reason for what i do. You're a storyteller, you ridiculous fairy. You should be able to see it. I don't just make up rules haphazardly. Open your eyes." And then they had their little moment of strife.

Burnie scoffed. "You're not going to tell a story like that. I know how your power works. You need an audience. You need me far more than I need you." It didn't mean she couldn't tell a story to make him more compliant one involving love or worse. But if she tried, he'd take her tongue with the staff. "It's my turn to tell a story anyway."

[Dulcie]

She rolled her eyes. "You're stubborn as a goat. You do know that don't you? I could have us out of here in minutes if you'd just get over yourself." He seemed to resign his part of the attack and she would lower her defense, though she was much more cautious and aware now of his intentions with that iron tipped walking stick.

"Fine. Tell your bloody story. But it had better be interesting."

[Glenn]

"Magic has a cost," he walked beside her now, lacing his arm in hers if she'd allow it, as if they were sweethearts, "but then so does everything else. The harder the task, the larger the cost."
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Well then,We left our young hero in Underdark, down on his luck, hopeless. I told you that he won his way out, that he made it so that they were happier with him gone. I did not tell you how he did it. You see, he saw them as animals, as sentient but lacking even the basic capabilities of empathy, worse than an animal. Maybe, though, maybe he was so desperate he would have done this even if they were human. Maybe not.

He used those who would help him. He betrayed those who would trust him. He victimized those who would possess him. He showcased all of their worst qualities, and since he was mortal, since he knew how to grow and change and see outside of traditions and stagnation, he did it better than they did. There are lines we do not cross and yet he crossed them all. He was desperate. He had lost sight of himself. Still, he knew what he did. He rationalized it well. He would manage it, even up unto making them all burn.

He'd looked past tradition, though, had looked past ritual. In order to join a house he had to stand before their goddess. It was a ritual, superstition. What did he have to fear? He learned the words. He learned the tricks. He would not fail.

He didn't and so was his tragedy. This was not meant for a mortal mind, not meant for a mortal soul. His mind was strong enough, but his soul? It was sundered, severed from his body. That just made everything else easier, but it meant upon his return, he was no longer who he had been.

You have heard stories, countless I am sure, of men who no longer are capable of considering others. They kill them again and again, often in the same way, a ritual of their own and do not see anything wrong with this. He was driven in a way they were not. He wanted something other than blood and viscera. He wanted a better Myrken and now, with his soul cut adrift within him, he would do anything to achieve it.

That's what it took for Myrken. Crossing all the lines. Bloodless Atrocities each and every day. Balancing everything against everything else, until something had to give.The details aren't that interesting. A deranged stage performer given a chance to hurt the world in exchange for a little, tiny vote. That's not the interesting part. This is. Something had to give. Here is that something. Welcome to Golben, Duckling.

[Dulcie]

She considered the story, listening carefully to every word, looking for the scraps of story that would be best for retelling in the future. A soulless man, well that could potentially suck emotion from a story, it would hardly be worth it. The bits about the goddess seemed to have potential however.

"You enlisted a deranged stage performer in exchage for a vote? What a lack of self confidence. Really with everything you've told me I'm sure you could have one the hearts and minds of people that wouldn't toss you to the bottom of a pit."

He had finished his story and she was ready for one of her own, wetting her lips lightly with her tongue.

"Now then, let's say we get out of here hmm?"

[Glenn]

At least she got enjoyment out of something. "It was a way to keep him close. While he was creating this for the better part of a year it meant that he wan't part of broader schemes. Also, it's hard to find someone qualified. You'd be more qualified for Councilor for the Arts than most in Myrken and you're female, a fairy, and really, something of a weak storyteller," at least compared to him.

"No I gave you three parts to my story." And really, there was nothing at all interesting about a soulless man and the land that he made, no? Nothing. She hadn't lived within his story for the last few years. Oh, but had. "It means I get to hear what I want to hear." Within reason of course. Her first two bits were as disappointing in his eyes as his had been in hers. "Tell me of when you were in love."

[Dulcie]

She rolled her eyes at his insult. "If I was that horrible could I have told so many stories to your people? There were none that denied their interest in what I had to say."

She looked at him, sighing as he requested another story.

"You don't want to leave do you? And you're foolish for thinking you could distract a troublesome man with a troublesome task. You're kind struggle with learning these things. Your lives are far too short to really manage any lessons of value. There are a few exceptions of course, though I doubt you will be one of them."

She considered his request then, looking up as she tried to recall something.

"I'm afraid it's a rather short tale. I've never been in love. It's really not our way of things. Your kind use feelings to select mates. We consider power when we select ours, not that I've ever felt the need to breed of course. Now if you're interested in a love story I can tell you a very pleasant one about a girl with pure white skin. Or maybe a sleeping princess?" Those tales wouldn't get them out of course, but it would at least distract Glenn.

[Glenn]

"People like stories. What can I say?" His staff still wasn't tapping steadily. Now and again, but only that, sometimes as a punctuation but never as a beat. "Even bad ones." There was a bit of a wry grin upon his face, though. He was tiring but so long as there was banter between them, he could soldier on. It empowered him as much as anything else.

It was funny, then, that he would ignore her words about humans and their failings until she answered about a story. After a long pause he turned, stopping, and stared at her.

"We're such at odds, aren't we? That's a story, right? Is that what this is? You and I crafting our own story?" Four questions, all in a row, and there was the slight tone of delirium to it. She could see what he had suffered in the last month and more. She could see it just by looking at his body. There was so much talk of who they were and what they were and in his stories to her, he had made his own life seem somehow less connected. "Do you think it could be real, Duckling? You and I with such a divide between us? Have we found common ground on anything at all? How could that be so? Are you playing a game? Am I? What happens when our lives, the ones that we're living, become stories right before our eyes?"

[Dulcie]

"We aren't crafting our own story. You're choosing dull topics that I have nothing to say about."

He began to ramble and go on about all the dynamics that could be woven into story and she started to rub her forehead.

"It's not wonder your people threw you into a pit. You're insufferable." She stopped rubbing her face and looked at him. "Why are you so desperate for this to be a story? I rarely tell stories about myself, they're no where near as interesting as the fantastical. Which of course I could be telling right now and getting us both out of this cursed place before you keel over and I'm left to find a more natural way out of this place. I did mention I know a good one about a beanstalk didn't I?"

[Glenn]

"It's not that I'm choosing dull topics." He said idly, that little smile on his face still. "Any one of those topics would be interesting if someone asked it to me instead of you. It's just that you're a dull person. I don't think there's any question I could ask you that would be interesting if you answered. You're empty and hollow and bitter and blind to it. I've marched around virtually soulless for years and I have more depth of emotion than you do. You live vicariously though us and because of that there's nothing at all to you. You basically admit it. You're just an animal that feeds off of us. You're not some higher level of being. You're as low as they come. No love. No caring. No heart. No compassion. No respect. Some minor affection. But you lack humanity, and without that, what could possibly make you interesting."

She asked her question. "I've spent years making pragmatic deals, duckling. People have suffered for that. People have gained so much through it. Once I get out, I start doing it all over again or I don't. I don't know yet. Right now, though? You will suffer my presence and no one else will suffer yours. You're not getting out of here. Get that through your head. I can't kill you, but I can certainly give a troublesome beast a troublesome time."

[Dulcie]

"Of course I lack humanity! I'm not human you idiot!" She was exasperated at this point and she shook her head, looking at him as she picked up her walking stick.

"I'm finished with you and your presence. I'll find my own way out. You're more hinderance than you are help."

She'd move to try to walk away from him then, carefully side stepping one of the mirrors that were a result of one of her previous stories. There had to be a wall or some other tool to get out of this place. She'd heard stories about such sorts of things after all.