Silver Linings

"Carved and tattooed," she whispered as her borrowed fingers went to her chest, where beneath the hard leather bodice, she was branded with a different Thassilonian rune. One that she had not yet placed.

After the successful removal of Kavin's tattoo, Morelen wondered if the same might be done for her, but it was a different form of magic; not soul siphoning as the one Lucretia had imprinted upon so many. The sorceress suspected that it might have something to do with the magic that had first animated her and to undo that magic...if even she could, might just undo her. Or perhaps, just Doctor Noenn's sick form of branding, as she'd seen on the hideous amalgamation they'd fought in Underbridge.

Another mystery. Another question. Another reminder that she was held together by little more than glue and string, animated by a madman for purposes she may never know.

Nevermore croaked at her, silencing himself only after the golem's icy fingers stroked his ebony-feathered breast.

"It is a psychological discomfort then." Morelen sighed. "Know that I share in that discomfort, my friend. As long as that is all it is, then perhaps we are fortunate to have come across them and use them against our enemies." Hopefully Nuari believed in luck, for she took no stock in it herself.

"Maybe... " Nuari agreed hesitantly. "But how much 'evil' can we use to fight evil?
 
"I mean... we use their symbols, we use their weapons... We animate their own dead against them?? It 'feels' like it's for the greater good... but how long before people can't tell the difference between us and them?"

Philosophy was never the elf's strong suit and sighed uncomfortably looking at the hated symbol. He eyed Morelon as something she said sank in and gave him pause.

"As long as that's all it is?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What do you mean? Are feeling something more physical from your medallion?"

"I wear no medallion," Morelen admitted hesitantly, " but I do bear a tattoo given by Doctor Noenn. I used to think it was simply a 'signature' he attached to all his creations, but after seeing the magic that was employed by Lucretia when she tattooed those visitors to the Paradise, now I'm not so sure.

"The magic is different though... Also, it is not in the shape of the sihedron, but a different rune that I guess is Thassilonian in origin. I've not thus far been able to place it and I hesitate to ask Brodert knowing what questions will arise if I do."

Nuari nodded slowly. Once again he wished he'd paid closer attention to any kind of magical studies... but the subject had always confused and terrified him. The things he knew and could identify... without ever studying? One more subtle gift of his father.
 
"I'm not an... expert," he said with some hesitation, "but I understand your hesitation... I have magic inside me... but you have it holding you together. Thassalonian or not... I wouldn't recommend tinkering with this... tattoo too much."
 
He pointed to where she hid the disgusting journal. "I really think the answer would be in the book. To do... what he did, he had to made meticulous notes. If this mark has any bearing, then is has to mentioned somewhere..."

The golem turned her face into the wind, the spray from the sea turning to flakes of frost upon her porcelain skin.

"I'm not sure which makes me more nervous....having the answers or not having them."

That was a lie. Morelen knew exactly which made her more nervous, but the knowledge did little to curb the curiosity. Maybe it was instinct that told her this amnesia was a blessing, or maybe it was just fear. Either way, for now, she would opt for procrastination as a coping mechanism.

"I should probably return to my work," the sorceress coughed out, covering her mouth with a satin glove. "The robe is still a long way from finished and I hope to create one for you next.

"You know, if you'd like to come in from the cold, you're welcome to join Titus and I in the hold," she offered to her friend. "Barl's stench might be a bit off-putting all enclosed down there, but you'll get used to it. If not, you could just do what the priest did and stuff some bandage scraps up your nose."

"Perhaps shortly," the sorcerer replied gratefully. "The cold is unpleasant, but I think I'll watch the waves for a little while."

He stayed that way for an hour or so, watching the waves crash and the boat list here and there. Even with the perceived danger, the young elf still found it peaceful and quiet. In time even he couldn't handle the quiet and did join his companions in the hold.

Despite her assurances, he never did get used to the smell of Barl.