After the dinner, the children were taken to be bathed by Cardamom, and Samson and Aunty also retired for the evening, both of the elders exhausted for different reasons. Chives stuck by Alptraum, though. "I believe you were interested in crafting supplies?" he asks the Eeee.
"A bit? It need not be anything complicated. Some planks of wood that can be easily whittled a bit, some paper, a candle, and mabe some basic thin sticks of wood," Alptraum requests. "Enough to make small boats with sales with, really."
"Please follow me to the storage room then, sir," Chives says. "I believe we have a surplus of materials from when we were a winery."
"Barrel parts will work just fine, yes," Alptraum agrees, and follows.
Chives leads Alptraum down to the basement, where the family crypt is.. and apparently where the wine was aged. There are indeed many empty barrels, with wine-seasoned wood. Chives also reveals sack-cloth, wax, some flat, evenly sized sticks that were used to wrap the bottles, and a lot of actual paper, along with the more common parchment and corkwood. "We have plenty of candles upstairs," the Fnerf man notes. "And candle making supplies, such as the wicks."
"We don't use the cork for anything, however, which is why there's so much of it," he explains.
Alptraum starts shuffling through the remains of boards, trying to find the widest planks with a bit of a concave curve to them. Bit by bit he sets a few aside as he asks, "Is there a saw or the like I can use to cut these down?" he asks as he finalizes selecting what will be the boat 'base', and moves on to the thinner sticks to pick out ones that will work as a mast of sorts. That selection gets paired with many sheets of paper that can be used to make the sail needed later.
Chives goes to a cupboard, and opens several drawers before he finds a toothed saw. The tool looks ancient, with a wooden handle and a ceramic blade with an odd sheen to it. "Will this do?" he asks, offering it to Alptraum. Up close it looks like a surgical tool, given how small it is.
"That'll work fine," Alptraum agrees and takes it. He tries to not think about that it was probably surgical; he doesn't want to uncover these people are evil too right now. It's back to the collection of boards. Those get carted to the table and he starts cutting them down into one-foot strips, with one side short cut at a center point and the other end cut flat. Just very basic boat hull shapes, nothing fancy nor detailed. He keeps going until he has a good couple dozen of them cut.
"I've never seen a boat myself," Chives admits while he watches. "What other tools do you need? A knife? A pot to melt wax? Or will the children by doing that part?"
"Well, I have a knife at hand," Alptraum says, and goes about actually pulling the one that's usually slotted into his right forearm, well, out. Well, that's been a while. "The children will be helping make the sails with their parents and friends names on them. We'll also melt the wax then. I'm just handling the main cutting stuff for them as it's safer."
"That's a very wet knife," Chives notices. "Chitin blade?"
"Dried blood blade," Alptraum admits and holds it up, dripping with, well, his own goo (Nicora isn't the only one that can ooze). "Dragon blood, specifically." He sets it point down in the center of a plank and by spinning it through rolling the handle between his palms, he slowly drills a mast 'hole' into the center of a plank. He moves on to the next and repeats the same thing.
"Sounds like something for ritual use then," Chives says. "A Yodhsunala tool?"
"Yes. It's for cutting the ties that bind a spirit to a place or object. It's specifically attuned to me now, though, and can be used to help spirits transfer from place to place," Alptraum explains as he works. It's slow going to make holes in each plank, but he does manage it. Then it's going through each plank again. This time he spends it carving a few sigils into each one; the same set on each. A simple 'ward' so to speak, or blessing for the dead often carved upon tombs in Babel. He remembers it well from his time living on mount Sunala and walking amongst the tower-graves there.
"Fascinating," Chives says honestly. "We don't know much about actual Babelite funerary rites out here. Will you have the children make the sails and such here or at the ritual location?"
"Well, this is a mix of Babelite rites and those of where I grew up that works well in this specific situation," Alptraum admits as he works. "I think I want to hold off on the sail part until we are there. If they are feeling very sad they will not be up to travel."
"I will make sure to prepare light breakfast then, with snacks that can be carried along with them, if it is alright for them to eat afterwards," Chives says. "They will need help writing the names of their parents."
"Should be fine for them to eat. Nothing I am doing should affect them such. Whether they will feel like eating, I can't say. Sadness has a way of suppressing the desire," Alptraum says as he shifts over to what will be the mast bits. These he cuts in half, then uses his knife to whittle a slot into one of them that lets the other slide through it like a crossbar. Then the crossbar gets its ends sharpened slightly, probably for puncturing paper.
"I suppose Aunty would be the authority on local practices regarding food," Chives offers. "If there are any. Perhaps a small feast when they return?"
Alptraum pauses to think a bit on this. "Well, hmmm," he finally says after a bit. "Perhaps you should speak to her and get an idea of the foods they often had, and make thinks similar to it. That way they can feel like there is some continuity in their lives even with all the chaos. Familiar can help a lot in bringing a sense of ease."
"I'll seek her out then, and see if she is awake, else I'll I ask in the morning," Chives says. "Do you need anything more?"
Alptraum nods. "I think I've got it. I just have to do some basic prep and pack all this up. A crate would be good for that. Shouldn't take me more than an hour or so to finish up," Alptraum says. He looks up and smiles. "I appreciate your help and concern, though. But you need not wait any further on me tonight."
"A crate, hmm," the Fnerf says, looking at all of the barrels. "There may be one in the laundry area, I'll check there as well. And this is the least I can do. The children are part of our family now, after all. This is an important step for them."
"I just hope it goes well. I know there will be times it will not be easy for them to do. But if they don't have some sort of closure, I don't think they'll ever heal most of their wounds," Alptraum says. "The kind of wounds that matter, the ones you do not see."
"I remember trying to get Lord Samson to embrace life again after the death of his wife," Chives says. "Our children helped. So for children, they will be helped by having adults to look after and teach them, I reckon."
"Hopefully. It's always hard to lose someone, however the loss happens," Alptraum remarks. He also goes about actually making a completed boat to test things. No ink, so he actually pricks one of his own fingers and uses it to write Thath's wife's name on a sheet of paper. Some slits are then cut into it and Alptraum slides the mast through the lower one on the sail, then he holds it up to the mast and threads the cross-bar for the sail through the two others, making a tee that holds the paper in three places, mast base, and near the end of the crossbar on each side. He then sticks it firmly into the hole in the plank. "Yeah, that'll need wax to hold, but ... it works and should be easy for them to assemble," he muses.
"I'll make sure the tools for melting the wax are ready for you then," Chives says. "Unless you'd like to try them now for your test boat?"
"Nah, that part I'm sure will go together fine, it's the simplest part of the whole thing," Alptraum claims, "But thank you."
Chives nods, and leaves to seek out Aunty.
And Alptraum spends the next hour or so finalizing the boat models. Mostly just checking fit of masts, making small adjustments here and there, and trimming down paper into something a bit more manageable. It's relaxing to have something relatively mindless to do, just repeated actions over time for each one. Once he's satisfied it's all in order, he gathers up the bits and heads out to find the laundry crate, or something similar, to store them in.
The crate is more of a basket with a wooden frame. It's sides are made of rope netting, and it's about a cubic meter in volume.
Alptraum mms. A bit too big than he needed, but he can make due. So, he packs in the supplies and sort of folds it over itself to take up the extra slack before he hefts it and carries it up to the main room to leave by the door. He can pick it up in the morning. On the way, though, he detours to locate the candles and such to add into the collection of odd things.
The candles are kept in the large pantry next to the kitchen, which he discovers quickly enough since there are still active people in the kitchen.
And so it's a sweep by the pantry to grab enough to cut apart and use with the boats. He also grabs a bowl to melt wax in while he's there for that matter.
The wax-pot apparently uses a candle underneath to melt the wax in the bowl above. The candle is even still there, melted in place.
He also catches the voice of Aunty deeper in the kitchen.
Alptraum finds that to be handy. So it's carefully packed up and slipped into the net-bag. Now it's back to the front way where he drops off the back for the trip. Once set, he turns and heads back to where he heard Aunty to try and listen in.
Aunty and the Lapi mother are in the kitchen. "Oats? Oats should work, if you've got a mortar," Aunty is saying to the long-eared woman.
Alptraum lingers, wondering what the oats are for. Not like he ever had any use for them!
"Vegetable lard is alright?" the Lapi woman asks. The sounds of stone being set on wood are heard, followed soon by grinding. "It will do. Have you any char from meat?" Aunty asks, and the Lapi replies with, "I might have, from tonight's meal. I haven't cleaned the firebox yet."
Alptraum has no idea what any of that is for, but it sounds interesting! So, he lingers and listens just a bit longer.
Seeds are another ingredient, which get ground down as well. "I'll need your help with the baking, Saff," Aunty says. "More used to corn than oats." There is the sound of a water pump, then the opening of a ceramic oven or stove and some shoveling. There's a hiss of something hot being dropped into a pot of water.
"All right, I have to ask, what is it you're making?" Alptraum asks as he runs out of patience and heads into the kitchen to find out!
Aunty looks up from her grinding, and the Lapi jumps in surprise. "Funeral cakes," Aunty replies.
"Not anything I've heard of before. People actually eat that?" Alptraum has to ask.
"The mourners do," Aunty explains. "It's symbolic. Ye eat half the cake, then burn the rest. Sort of a last meal with the deceased. That's why ye mix in the ash. Like eating a little bit of death."
Alptraum mms. "Not sure I quite approve of that last part, but I get the symbology of it. Not that I could eat either way," Alptraum admits, shrugs a little. "I've got the boats mostly ready, just enough left for the children to do for themselves. I admit I'm dreading it a bit tomorrow. Not the magic or my part, but that I can't soothe the wounds that will surface."
"Not your place to soothe them," Aunty says. "Hurt has to come up and be faced, or it eats at you forever. This is about closure for both the living and the dead."
"I know that. It still doesn't make it easier. I'm used to bearing things for others," Alptraum says, shrugs. "But this is all I can do this time, give them the chance for closure. The rest they must walk on their own."
"That's more'n enough," Aunty says. "They're lucky to have you do this for them. I'd need special incense and a hotspring to summon a vision of a lost one for somebody."
"Mmm, it has its own costs to me to do it, but I can manage those fine," Alptraum says, "But ... I should probably get some rest too and try to think of other things so I am ready for tomorrow."
"Will you be heading out before the children, or should we all follow you?" Aunty asks before Alptraum retires.
"Either works. Do you have a preference?" Alptraum asks.
"If it's a procession, you and I should be at the head, and the children should carry the supplies," Aunty suggests. "That will focus their minds on the task ahead."
Alptraum considers, then nods. "That sounds like a good idea. The less they can dwell on things and focus on moving ahead, the better," he agrees. "Focus and things to do always help recovery."
"Alright, I'll have them up bright and early then, before the mist has burned off," Aunty says.
Alptraum nods. "I'll see you then," Alptraum says. He turns and heads out of the kitchen and waves with his right hand as he departs. This time it's just to head back to his room.
Alptraum finds the small bed taken up by Tulani, who is sprawls across it as only a feline (with wings) can sprawl.
"So, I get the floor or the perch, eh?" Alptraum asks, knowing that was the case anyway. "Are you doing all right?"
"Ugh, feeling some half-dragon backlash," Tulani mutters. "Sore wings."
"Just sore wings? That's nothing too bad. I have all sorts of weird backlash from my own shifting," Alptraum points out. As he prepares for bed he does try to do a 'check' of himself to see how stable he is across his body if he can.
Since his last transformation was fairly recent, he still seems to be him, and nothing feels too tender yet. And he misses his tail from being a dragon, but that usually passes.
Alptraum pauses. "I seem to be fine, at least. Nothing weird going on right now. Guess Inala is leaving me alone at least," he says. Once bedprep is done, he has to grab the perch, then swing his feet up so he can grab it with them. Ugh, perches are so annoying. He got used to beds!
"Maybe only one of them can influence you at a time," Tulani suggests. "And now you're under Sunala's purrrrrview."
"Who knows. I'm not sure Sunala even pays much attention to me most of the time," Alptraum comments as he wraps his wings about himself. "Early morning, best get some rest too, unless you plan to stay here."
"I'll come along," Tulani says. "Do you want me to carry anything?"
"Probably not. Aunty wants the kids to do the carrying to help keep them occupied. It's a good idea, I have to admit," Alptraum says. "Though ... you could carry me like I were a king!"
"That requires a litter and at least two people," Tulani points out. "Unless you just want to go piggyback?"
"Oh, are you admitting you're too weak to carry an Eeee?" Alptraum teases. "Tsk!"
"How would you want to be carried, Your Majesty?" Tulani asks, turning her head to look at Alptraum with one eyebrow raised.
"With elegance and majesty! While being fed grapes! That's how it's done, right? Also a barf bucket to deal with the results of those grapes," Alptraum quips.
"Not on dragon-back then?" Tulani teases. "That would be too distracting though."
"You keep complaining about control. I didn't want to push you to do that until we're more, well, alone," Alptraum points out.
"And around less tasty looking people," Tulani agrees. "I can back any children that are too tired though. I used to babysit Rhians, after all."
"We could put a saddle on you as you are and take turns riding on your back. Might be tiring crawling all the way there, though," Alptraum considers.
"That sounds entirely too fun for the kids though," Tulani says.
"Is fun a problem? Hell, if I didn't have to go and do stuff, I could go as Scourge the dragon and give rides. I'm soft like that," Alptraum points out.
"Well, it will be better for Cardamom and the others here to cheer them up," Tulani says.
"Fair enough. I'm going to go to sleep now. If you snore I will turn you into a hog," Alptraum warns.
"I only purr," Tulani claims.
"Mmmhmm," Alptraum mutters, closes his eyes.
Alptraum doesn't remember any dreams he had, but does get the impression that Sunala is now paying closer attention to him, if not whispering into his ear. He and Tulani rouse before dawn, when the sky is still deep blue and ground mist is think. For Eeee, this is the magic hour, rather than the twilight of sunset. Alptraum can hear the household staff starting their pre-morning activities as well.
Alptraum is up and about, and getting dressed for the day. He also makes sure Tulani is roused. Mostly by whapping her with a pillow a few times, then fleeing to the bathroom before she can get out of the bed!
There are smells of bread wafting in from the main floor, and some young-Eeee squeaking.
Alptraum waits it out to see if there is any fallout from his ah, 'alarm call'. If not, he'll make his way downstairs.
Tulani emerges, and seems fine, as she's brushing out her hair. She seems deceptively calm.
Which means Alptraum keeps his distance. He knows what that usually means, after all.
"Need to borrow my brush?" Tulani asks, offering the bristly tool (full of white hairs of course).
"Nah, I'm good," Alptraum claims.
"Alright, I will just have the best groomed hair then," Tulani says, but puts away the brush before heading down the hall towards the stairs.
Alptraum is used to not having well brushed hair. He waits for Tulani to go down, then goes down himself.
The kitchen is busy, even though breakfast is just some fried bread and fruit. "You don't want to have heavy bellies this morning," Aunty tells the children. Even the house children eat the same thing (but being Lapis, they probably really enjoy fried bread and fruit).
Alptraum mphs. Nothing he can have, but that's pretty typical for him. He'll deal with dietary needs later; he's used to going without a while. "Yeah, full stomachs when traveling makes it a lot less 'fun'. so, light meal, plan to snack some," the bat offers as advice.
"How far are we going?" Cedra asks. She's probably the most well-traveled of the bunch, having made it to Babel.
"Not as far as Babel. An old hunting cabin maybe half a day's walk from here or so," Alptraum answers.
"Wow, that's far!" Gilam claims, but Harper and Fanny give him a disappointed look. "That's normal for harvesting y'know," Harper points out. "Fields are big."
"We'll be sleeping at the cabin overnight and coming back in the morning. So, travel light," Alptraum recommends. "And don't dawdle too much this morning, we need to get going soon."
The thought of sleeping in a cabin seemed to perk up some the younger children, and bread and jam were finished off quickly. Aunty had her own basket with the funeral cakes in it, which may be the only thing they'll be eating until tomorrow (aside from whatever they stash in their pockets as snacks).
Soon they're all ready for the march.
Not that Alptraum expects them to be hungry at night after everything anyway. So, off they go! Alptraum grabs his odd collection of toy boat parts and lugs that over his shoulder. And off they go.
"What are those?" one of the kids quickly asks as they leave the manor into the misty pre-dawn.
"Stuff to make the spirit boats you'll be launching later tonight," Alptraum explains. "I'll explain more once we reach where we're going."
The children stay close, as it's still misty. And even as the sun rises, the mist around doesn't burn off, giving the trek an otherworldly feel. Tulani keeps the back, making sure nobody drifts too far.
Alptraum might not be helping with that otherworldly feel since as the sun did start going up he started using a bit of shadow; more of a filling mist rolling off of him to add some 'drama' to the march. Or at least keep the kids distracted ... as well as warn any highwaymen that attacking this group miiiight be a bad idea.
The effect certainly seems to work on the children who remain quiet, wondering if they've left their world altogether. Luckily, Alptraum knows where he's going. Eventually the silhouette of the cabin emerges, along with the sound of running water.
"Aaaand here we are! Lets all get settled, then I'll go over what you need to do with all of this," Alptraum says. He gestures ahead through the thicker tree growth and the cabin close to the old river. "The door to meet with the Mother of Bones will likely appear at night in the cellar," he comments to Aunty, quietly.
"The children won't need to know about that, unless one is particularly brave at the time," Aunty says, setting down her basket before going to check out the river.
Alptraum, meanwhile, heads to the cabin to open the door, then all the windows to make sure the place is aired out. "We should get a fire going in the fireplace and set up beds and such ... then we can see about the boats," he offers.
The mist has moved out some, so the immediate area is clear, including the cabin. It still lingers in the trees and the path they followed, as well as hiding the shore on the other side of the river.
"I'll get the fire going," Tulani volunteers.
Alptraum says, "All right. Kids, start setting up places for you to all sleep," Alptraum asks as he heads inside and sets down the 'bag' of sorts. Once the bag is down, he moves to a window and extends his senses to see if he feels there's anyone else nearby, or just wildlife."
There's definitely a presence out there across the river, but it doesn't give off a traditional aura. It's like a shadow.
Alptraum's brow furrows. That's worrisome. He focuses on that shadowy presence, trying to get a better feel for it.
The children begin gathering up some of the dry thatch and straw stored in the cabin, although there are already perches: those may be too high up for kids though.
It's very familiar. "Why are you glaring towards me, Barsunala," Alptraum hears in Sunala's echoing voice.
"I sensed something and was unsure what it was. I was worried for a moment there might be danger, but now that I know it is you, I can relax. I am ... surprised you are extending yourself to here," Alptraum admits in his thoughts.
"I've been with you since you left the manor," Sunala claims. "I kept the mist around you from dying."
"Ah. I should have realized. I hope you are not offended I am mixing in farewell rights of Sylvania with those of Babel. The Sylvanian ones were designed to help when a body is not always available ... for obvious reasons in that land," Alptraum explains.
"Then they are applicable here as well," Sunala says. "The spirits are my main concern."
"And mine, as well as the welfare of the children," Alptraum thinks. "We shall begin when twilight falls."
Sunala says, "Because of the manner of their death, these souls will not find the sea without aid. Draw them to you as best you can."
"That is why I wish the children to make the sails of the ships. Focus on those they knew and loved, to draw that forward. It will be their thoughts and memories that I can amplify and use to bring those I can to here," Alptraum thinks. "The old Sylvanian God also offered to help, though I am wary of it. She never caused me any problems in the past, though, so I think it should be ... fine. If nothing else, she can help amplify the Sylvanian aspects of the ritual."
"I am acquainted with the Mother of Bones," Sunala notes. "She can help give temporary form to the ghosts."
"Due to her interactions with me when I was young?" Alptraum wonders. "Aunty will be brokering with her, I believe."
"Aunty is a witch," Sunala points out. "It is her duty to do so."
"She is cranky," Alptraum counters, but grins too. "I am mostly just a focus and conduit in this."
"You bring the compassion of the living to this as well," Sunala claims.
"Also true. I hope I will not bring them more sorrow with this. I know there will be some, but I hope it will be temporary, and help the deeper sorrow to find a way to heal," Alptraum thinks. "All of this I am just doing out of my own gut instincts."
"You are the Barsunala, the bridge between the living and the dead," Sunala says. "You are the one to choose who you aid. You cannot be compelled by ritual, unlike the srinalas, or even the Sisters. Gut instinct is valid enough."
"Thing is, I usually want to help everyone. Unless they are truly horrible," Alptraum admits.
"That is not a moral failing," Sunala points out. "It sets you apart from Us."
"I know. It also gets me into trouble. Well, I should see to the children and get them started on their tasks," Alptraum thinks as he draws away from the window. "Okay," he says out loud, "How many of you can write?"
"Words?" Harper asks.
"Words, names, that sort of thing, yes," Alptraum clarifies.
"We can count," Dravitz offers.
"Only a few folks in our village could read and write," Aunty explains. "Most just never needed to."
"Well, then I guess I need to teach to at least write the names of your parents," Alptraum says as he moves to his bag of stuff and fishes out the large stack of paper, as well as some charcoal writing tools. "We'll start by each of you telling me their names and I'll write it down. Then you all will copy what I've done while thinking of your parents, and trying to see them in the shapes of the words that make up their names."
"Is this magic?" Fanny asks. "It sounds like magic."
"Sort of," Alptraum answers a bit vaguely and settles down at one of the tables. He gestures to Dravitz and Cedra first. "You two, come here and tell me their names, please?"
"Mommy and Daddy," Cedra says.
Alptraum rubs his forehead and looks at Dravitz.
"Ummm..." the boy stammers, until Aunty steps in and says, "Telia and Marsh."
Alptraum chuckles a little and takes two sheets of paper, and writes one name on each. "Telia ... Mommy," he explains as he slides that one to Cedra. "Marsh, daddy," Alptraum says the other and slides that to Dravitz. He sets one of the charcoal sticks next to each. "I'd like you to practice copying those shapes; those are the letters that make up their names. As you do, think of them really hard. And once you think you can make a good copy, let me know and each of you will make a sail for your ship with their names."
The siblings take this on with solemnity, from the seriousness of their expressions.
Alptraum waves Harper over next. "The names of your parents?" he asks.
"Missena and Han," Harper says. "Can I get the Mommy and Daddy characters too?" she then asks.
Alptraum nods. "Of course," Alptraum agrees and writes out both names, and with the appropriate parentage symbols underneath. He slides that to Harper and then another sheet and a charcoal stick to practice with. "Please, try to copy these until you can feel their names and their memories," he requests. "I know it might make you feel sad, but ... that just means they will be closer."
The others go similarly, which Aunty often having to relay the actual names, and all of them wanting the parentage marks.
Alptraum spends his time re-checking the boats and setting up the melting pot in preparation. He also sets out the papers all pre-cut to 'sail' size including the three anchor slits. Now and then he checks on the children too, and offers them advice and help here and there to improve their 'copying' of those characters. To Aunty he says, "I do recommend that at the manor they all learn to read and write. It will serve them well and be more necessary to know if they are to make a good home there."
"I'm sure they'll be taught then," Aunty says, and pulls some small bundles of cloth from her bag. "We'll want to add these to the boats as well," she says, opening one of the small bits of cloth to reveal some dark hair.
Alptraum nods. "We can tie it to the masts once they are assembled. Is that the hair of each of the parents? Or just that of Dravitz and Cedra's parents?" he asks.
"All of them," Aunty claims. "I have the entire village with me."
"That .... that will be very helpful. Can you tell them apart? And are there other names we should write down? You and I can make the sails, but I will need you to be their focus, I did not know them," he apologizes.
"I know each hair, yes," Aunty says, and looks to the children. "For now, the focus will be on them. I will treat with the Mother of Bones before deciding what to do for the rest."
"All right. I doubt she will make herself known until twilight. That is the only time I have known her gate to appear," Alptraum says. "Sunala is already here, watching over us. She and I have already discussed our roles."
"Is there anything specific ye need me to do for this?" Aunty asks. "Otherwise my part will be handing the hair to the kids so they can burn it on the candles."
"
"I think that should be plenty," Alptraum says. He taps on his chin a bit, thinking a bit more. "No, I think that should be enough outside of your negotiations with the Mother of Bones"
"I'll go outside to prepare my spells then," Aunty says, watching the children distribute the straw and check for mold or bugs, while other test the perches for those big enough to use them. "A task helps them. I'll think of some for them to do back at the manor."
"Yeah, something to distract thoughts is always good during recovery," Alptraum says, nods. "I'll finish double-checking everything here. I think I'm really close to done."
After Aunty leaves with her bag of witching tools, Tulani shadows Alptraum. "Who's the Mother of Bones?" she asks in Sylvanian.
"Old Sylvanian God, actually. Surprised you've never heard of her. I met her as a child a long time back. She tried to claim me," Alptraum explains. "She is willing to help with this in return for Aunty helping her. It's a fair offer."
"Well, I know the Seven Sisters are Saints, sort of, in Sylvania," Tulani says with a nod. "Seems fair for some Sylvanian ones to be out here, especially so far from the city's influence."
"The Mother of Bones is even older than the Sisters, I believe. Very few followers these days. My nature is what made it easy for her to find me when I was young. She is going to help the dead find form tonight for us. Being able to hug their children goodbye is important," Alptraum continues. He's now setting the boats out in a nice ordered line, with the sail points prepped.
Some of the children watch Alptraum closely but silently. Some are torn about having to say goodbye for real.
"How are you doing with your family names?" Alptraum asks, looking back to the children. "Do you feel like you have not only the shape learned, but the feel of it? The latter is really important for this to work."
"Can you explain feel again?" Mutt asks. "Is it like feeling happy or bad?"
"Well, I know it is in some ways going to feel bad. Like a hurt you can't touch or ease. Remembering those you have lost always comes with some of that. Try to focus it in a longing, a desire to see them again, and then in ways that you remember that were happy. Being home, stories being told at night, playing. The person, as they were, as what you miss. Does that help any at all?" Alptraum asks.
"Like being hugged," the boy asks, and hugs himself.
"That is a good way to think of it," Alptraum agrees.
"And if you wonder if all of this does anything ... it was your Parents' love that helped me find you," Alptraum says. "Emotion greatly affects magic, and the power it can bring. They may be gone physically, but their love for you still exists and still ties you to them."
With that encouragement, the children practice the symbols again with more focus.
"Two boats for each child, or one per parent?" Tulani asks Alptraum in whispered Sylvanian.
Then Alptraum thinks of something. He looks at the table, then the room. Without saying anything, he finds himself the charred remains of one of the sticks burned earlier. This he uses to draw a circle around the table where the children work. Within that, he starts laying out the Babelite runes for a funeral prayer to the departed, those that ask for safe journeys and rest. He's no mage, it's no magic circle, but the idea is similar, something to help act as a focus, even if crude.
Alptraum holds up two fingers to answer Tulani.
Tulani nods, and says, "I'm going to check the river edge to make sure it isn't slippery or dangerous then. Anything else I should look for outside?"
"Animal tracks, or people tracks. We don't want to have to deal with dangerous predators of either type," Alptraum advises.
The cat nods and heads outside to scout around and check the mist.
"Don't be afraid," Alptraum asks of the children as he works around them. He has no idea if this will do anything, but sympathetic magic is in many ways driven by the intent, if not the strictness of the act. So, he's hopeful. "And crying is okay. Please, do not try to force yourself not to. Being able to ... let go is important."
Harper presents her work to Alptraum. "How is this?" she asks nervously. The names are clear enough, but more importantly is the bit of aura attached to them, a sort of rose-gold hue.
Alptraum squints at the paper, then tilts his head a bit. "Yes. That will do very well. You can't see it, but I can. Love and memories echo in the lines you wrote," he says. "That is exactly what I was hoping for."
Harper beams. "Really?" she asks, with big eyes. The other look up at the older girl. "What did you do?" Gillam asks.
"Harper, can you explain what you did? I can only say it in terms of general feelings, but you can describe it better from your view point," Alptraum prods a little. "I think if you described it, it might help them as they have a better reference this way."
The older girl sits down on the floor and faces the others. "I was thinking of my first memory where my mom was holding me, and then when my dad took out flying for the first time," she explains. "And then it all came more easily. Eating and playing and even doing chores together. Just.. regular life."
The others try the same, and some begin to sniffle as much as smile as they try again. They're accuracy isn't great for one day of practice, but the feeling seems to be flowing into the characters.
"There, that's working," Alptraum says and nods. "Very, very good. That is what we needed. You're all doing great."
While the keep practicing, Tulani returns and tells Alptraum, "No fresh tracks, but the mist gets thicker the further you get from here, and the river is.. being weird."
"Both of those are Sunala's influence. She's maintaining the mist," Altpraum says. "How weird is the river?"
"I can't hear it," Tulani says.
"You usually don't hear the Sea of Souls either, except when those that are in it call out. So ... that's probably a good sign. We're standing in a place between, so the veil should be thin here."
Alptraum says.
"Alright, I'm starting to get a little creeped out now," Tulani admits. "This whole area is in some sort of limbo-twilight-zone," she admits, and hugs herself. "Everything is still."
"Tulani?" Alptraum says, gently. "Welcome to the world I live in. You now get to really know what it's like to be me."
"Well.. I didn't see anything moving in the mist, including the mist itself," Tulani says. "Maybe a shadow on the other side of the river, but it was still."
"Oh, the shadow on the other side is Sunala," Alptraum says, which is probably not very helpful.
"She didn't wave, so that's a good sign right?" Tulani asks.
"Well, do you want Her to wave and get to know Her better?" Alptraum asks. "She isn't here for you, so in that respect yes, it's a good sign."
"I'll wait until you can do a proper introduction then," Tulani says. "Aunty is also out there, sitting on a log and either sleeping or meditating while holding some bags."
"Probably both. I've been asleep before, and communing. The twilight of the mind is where Gods dwell," Alptraum waxes poetic. "Okay, I think we're ready to do this. Will all of you come over so we can fit your sails?" he asks of the children. "Then we'll be taking these outside."
The children bring their papers over, each having a warm glow of some sort. "What do we do?" Cedra asks. She didn't bring her puppet with her, which is probably a good sign.
Alptraum starts with Cedra. He kneels down beside her and shows her with his own paper with Thath's Wife's name upon it and demonstrates how to slide the paper down on the main 'mast' first through the two vertical slots in it. The side support that crosses the main one follows, he slips it in one side, then again through the other. It's done so the ends are both visible on the same side, which forces the paper to bow out a bit like a real sail under wind. "Like that," he says, gently, "Can you do yours just like this?" He ovvers over the two parts to the mast.
The girl sticks her tongue out and goes slowly, comparing it to Alptraum's example every so often. But she does get it pretty close with her mother's name.
"That's perfect," Alptraum says. He holds his hands near hers, saying, "I'm going to touch you now, just to help guide you, okay?" Then he does, he lightly ups his hands around hers and carefully guides her into fitting the mast stem into the slot already carved into the boat. "Feel when it starts to stick?" he asks, "Just push a bit more ... there. And you can now let go." And he does as well, slipping his hands off hers.
"I can do another one for daddy right?" she asks next, beaming that she completed it (with just a little help).
"With your brother's help. Why don't you help him do your father's one?" Alptraum suggests.
Dravitz is a little shaky still, so Cedra helps him like Alptraum helped her. He actually saw their parents being killed, so is having a harder time."
Alptraum keeps back. He lets Cedra direct, and only steps in once when something is a bit too far out of line to work well. Then he's moved back again. It's important for both of them to work together, he needs to stay out as much as he can.
The extra mast wiggling requires some extra wax to secure it, and Dravitz is quiet the whole time. The others start working on theirs as well, also in silence. This is essentially like preparing a coffin before burial. It's clear which kids had seen things they shouldn't have. Harper is the one having the most trouble though, holding onto her paper and staring at the mast post she's supposed to slot through it.
Alptraum is mostly quiet throughout. He moves between the children. A reassuring hand on a shoulder at times. Others, a hug to steady when they shake. None of them should have seen the things they have. But, nothing will change that. It is best to help wounds heal instead of forget about them. Harper, though, Alptraum now goes to and kneels down. "Are you okay?" he asks, gently. "Is there anything I can help with?"
"I don't want this," the girl says in a very small voice. "I don't want to let go. I want it to all go back to how it was before. My mom and I were arguing when the attack came. I don't remember what it was about. I'm never gonna do that again though. I'm never going to do anything with them ever again."
"I know," Alptraum says, quietly. He pulls her close and rests his chin on the top of her head. "Life isn't always fair. Things end before they should, and partings are never easy. But, know this simple truth about parents and children. Both will say things in anger, in a fight, they don't mean. You had a fight, but I can promise you they have long let that go. And you're not right about you won't do anything with them ever again." He reaches down and places a single fingertip right over Harper's heart. "Because they are part of you, and always will be. They remain in your heart, in your memories. And more. You are a piece of your parents. Your children someday will be a piece of your parents. They aren't completely gone because you are still here. You are made of your mother and father's love. Never forget that."
Harper wipes her nose on her sleeve, and smiles to Alptraum. "Thanks. It still hurts, but I guess I can do this much for them. So.. they know I can grow up."
She takes a big breath, and then works to fit the sail.
Before much longer, each child has two boats (or in the case of Cedra and Dravitz, shared boats).
"Hon, they've always known that about you. Parents of all kinds know more about you than you about yourself. And love more deeply than you could imagine. Even mine," Alptraum says, gently, and rises. "Okay, it's time to take these out and begin. But, only if all of you are ready too. If you need a moment, I will understand. Only once you are all ready will we go."
"Aunty is ready," Tulani reports, which motivates the children. The ones carrying two boats move very carefully, which involves shuffling their feet in most cases.
Alptraum holds the door open for the children and patiently waits for them to exit. There's no rushing.
Aunty is waiting near the shore with the candles and bundles of hair. Alptraum can see the ghost of Celeda is already there (or maybe never left), but the kids aren't reacting like they can see her. The river looks like it's made of mercury now, and is rippling but not clearly flowing.
"Okay. Please take your boats to the edge, but do not place them in yet. That will happen when it is time for the final journey to begin. For now, just place them by the shore. We need to set and light a candle on each one ... and Aunty here will give each of you a piece of hair from your parents. You will need to burn it with that candle," Alptraum explains as he now approaches the shore himself, and stands before it. His arms spread and he looks deep into those rippling 'waters'. "There's a common misunderstanding about life and death. That they are different. They are not. They are an endless cycle of change, interwoven with each other. One cannot exist without the other. They reflect each other, the beginning of one is the end of the other, no matter which side you look at it. Both are important. Both matter. Both must be. I stand tonight and ask of you, my Mother Sunala, and of you, my aunt Rinala."
"Please, join hands tonight upon these shores. These children have lost all they held dear in a moment of horror and evil that is all too common. I ask of you to please allow your cycle, for just a time tonight, to draw still. Allow those that have taken to stand with those that remain. Those that remain cannot continue their cycle with the pain that burns in them, not without balance returned, and a chance to love again, and say a true goodbye. On the shore of the sea, I ask this of you. Please. I know it is not the way, but for a short time tonight, for the sake of the children; the future. Please allow it, allow a moment to heal, and a time to grieve," he says. Plaintive, gentle, in a voice that echoes in a place where sound dies.
The silver water becomes smooth, and Aunty goes to each child in turn. First she hands them a short candle, and uses the lit one that she carries to soften the bottoms. "This is a special candle," she tells each of them. "A magic candle. Place it firmly behind the sail while the wax is soft." The children are used to following Aunty's instructions without question though. Then goes down the line again, handing them her candle so they can light their own.
Next, the witch hands the children the tiny bundles of hair, making sure they don't get them mixed up. "Now, place them in the flame of the candles. Do not worry, you will not get burned." The children do as told, with the packets flaring up in bright flashes, and the candles are now burning with silver flames. She then nods to Alptraum.
Alptraum now sets his own boat down, with the name of the woman who's spirit was part of his very existence. He sets his own candle, and lights it as well. Then he draws himself back. "Each of you, focus on that flame, focus on your memories. Happy, sad, all in between. You and that flame are the focus. Make it your world," he requests. And this time he closes his own eyes, extending his senses and trying to fins strands that should be forming, and one by one, draw them together. Weave memories and fragments of those that have gone to make them 'whole'. It cannot be forced; just a simple encouraging movement, like blowing smoke trails into shapes.
The mist begins to swirl, pieces of it starting to drift across from the other side of the river. Alptraum sees the figures within, and they draw up substance from the silver water to become more solid. Celeda's spirit steps out to meet and join them. Now they're visible to the children as well, who.. start crying.
By the time the figures reach the shore, the look like living Eeee again, and hug their crying children. It's the first time they've really had a chance to cry.
Alptraum holds his place, as the weaver, the ties, the fret upon the loom in this moment. He helps things form together, to become that which they wish and want. His own expression impassive, hard, as expected of anyone that must walk in these moments. That impassive face, breaks, if only a little, as a tear runs down his cheek. Having to say goodbye is never easy, not for the living ... and even moreso when it is the final farewell. He knows this moment will be their last. He knows the pain they will feel. Raw pain, but hopefully the raw kind of pain that can drive away the corrupted agony the horrors they went through cursed them with.
A hand falls on Alptraum's shoulder. Delicate, so not belonging to Tulani. "You're doing fine, son," Melisandre says in a soft voice. "This is what the Barsunala is meant for."
The shades comfort their children. Talking to them in voices only they can hear, and hugging them the whole time.
"I know. Being able to help people, both living and dead, is a great gift to be able to offer," Alptraum says, softly, as he watches. He doesn't look back, not yet. "But it also hurts deeply, them and myself. I wish I could do more, but I can't. Not for them. Knowing that hurts so much. I can only offer them a path, they must walk it, and they must find their peace upon it. All I can going forward do is strive to prevent as many of these moments as possible from being needed. I know I can't stop them all, but dammit, if I can't try, and teach others to try, too."
"You can remove the threats as much as possible, but people still need to see the benefit of helping one another," Melisandre says. "You don't have to do it alone, just stand out in front so others can follow."
"I know. It's frustrating. But as I said so long ago. You can sometimes change the world by just changing one person. Even a small ripple can become a wave," Alptraum says and finally looks back. "So I just need to get really good at making lots of ripples." He smiles, a weary sort of smile, one that has seen much and walked so many paths. It's also one that even now in spite of everything still holds a glimmer of hope in it.
The crying has begun to subside, as the parents and children commune silently. The water is beginning to flow again as the silver has been used up by the spirits. Melisandre smiles and nods to Alptraum. "Or cancel out the older, darker ripples that won't die down," she suggests. "Babel was a city of dark ripples that just kept reflecting off the mountains. A lot of those have died down now, thanks to you." This is the first time Alptraum has seen her since she was released from the curse. This must be what she looked like in life, tall and elegant. A child of Inala.
"Thanks to its people. I just needed to give them a nudge," Alptraum claims, but smiles anyway. "This time we also need to remember what we were. Not hide it, not obscure it, not what Amenlichli did to us before the horrors spread. As long as we can remember where we came from, we will know not to ever go back to that, either. And can guard from it. We need to accept all we did wrong, and confront it. Like the children tonight confront their loss. You can't hide pain, you have to heal it."
"I'm proud of you," Melisandre says. "I wish I had given birth to you myself. But that's being selfish. You wouldn't have been the Barsunala then."
"You are still part of me, even if you did not. You could not be here if you were not," Alptraum claims. Perhaps true, perhaps not. "You have been part of this too. Not by choice, and I am sorry for all you endured. But perhaps you can take some peace in that after it all, it still had meaning and your life touched the world and others too."
Melisandre rises up and kisses Alptraum on the forehead. "You're such a good boy," she says. "Would you mind if I hugged you?"
Alptraum actually laughs a little at that. "Of course I don't mind," he says and opens his arms to hug the 'ghost'.
When the woman hugs Alptraum, he suddenly feels small, like a child. Melisandre is warm, and finally gets her chance to be a mother.
It's both very odd, and very comforting. A feeling he's not felt in many, many, years. Childhood is the only time where life can feel simple, and at least for a few moments, he gets to feel it again. No weight on his shoulders, just warmth. No worries, no fears, simple warmth and gentleness.
It fades, along with the spirit. The children's stubby candles have begun to sputter, the moment of separation is at hand. The river is already flowing normally, and the mist is beginning to retreat. It feels as if the phantoms are saying their farewells and final bits of advice and encouragement. The children are still trying to cling to the ever more ephemeral apparitions.
"It is time to send the boats onto the sea," Alptraum says now. He kneels down to his and with a gentle nudge sends it out onto the river. It's candle flickers and ripples, reflecting off the water creating an illusion of a star in the procession traveling.
The parents are already moving back over the water and returning to mist. There's still crying, but it's softer sobbing and not wailing now. One by one they begin setting the boats out, with Cedra and Dravitz helping each other do it. Even Harper sets hers into the water to join the flotilla. As they glide down the river, the mist parts for the boats before vanishing completely.
Alptraum remains kneeling by the shoreline. His head is bowed, wings down and spread around him like a cape. He looks, deflated, worn. That took so much more than he expected. "Thank you," he murmurs to the water, and to the shadow on the other side. No flowery speeches, just a simple, honest, thanks.
Sunala is there still, looking like she wishes she could give Alptraum a hug too, but instead she fades away as well. Aunty ushers the emotionally exhausted children back to the cottage, while Tulani comes to crouch next to Alptraum. "I never knew my birth parents," she says. "Just the ones that actually wanted me and raised me. I need to write to them."
"You should. Things can end fast. Things end far sooner than you wish. Cherish your time with them," Alptraum says, looking up, and looking ... tired. He's been through a lot, and this night has actually been one of the hardest. Even Gorphat's worst trial isn't this hard on the soul.
The hand on his shoulder this time is definitely Tulani's, and she pulls him in against her side. She doesn't say anything though.
Alptraum lifts one of his wings and wraps it around Tulani. "I know I don't say it enough, but thank you, Tulani. For being a friend, and for being here. I couldn't have made it without you," he says.