Time has passed since the ambushes at the Coalition Tower, as Alptraum has tried to make arrangements for a daring attempt to sneak in. Mage Rorschach of Shadow has offered the use of a ritual spell to help Alptraum to be "even sneakier," though there are some choices involved. The danger of using Shadow Magic is that, while it may make Alptraum hard to spot by non-mages, it runs the risk that a mage (or someone otherwise sensitive to things magical) might pick up the magical "footprint" of Shadow Magic being used within the tower.
At the very least, it might be useful to get Alptraum to the Tower with little trouble; it would be up to Alptraum whether he wants to risk it once he gets inside. (But for what it's worth, if any mages are working at the Coalition Tower, they aren't with the Mages' Guild, and it's unlikely that priestesses of Zakaro are going to be available.)
Even if Alptraum opts to choose a magical cloak, there are various ways to go about it. The most straightforward would be a powerful "Obfuscation" spell that basically would just be for making it so that Alptraum would "blend in" more easily, and not draw any undue attention to himself from people who aren't specifically looking for him.
It would make Alptraum seem like "just another somebody unimportant." While this would be ideal for avoiding ruffians, servants, bored mercenaries, and idle curiosity-seekers who might cause trouble, it would be of little to no use against a determined guard – After all, "just another somebody unimportant" would not have reason to pass through a high-security area.
The other alternative would be to use Shadow Magic to make Alptraum invisible to various senses. This sort of magic has to shift and adapt itself to its surroundings, somewhat like a chameleon. Alptraum, while moving, would get very little benefit from the magic, and in some cases might actually stand out to those looking for him. But while he'd be sitting still, the spell would adapt and hide him. This would be a very thorough means of hiding his presence only if he is possessed of great patience, and willing to move slowly and carefully in calculated steps.
A third alternative would be the "Blot" method. In short, Alptraum could have one or more spells put on him to dampen out various senses in his immediate vicinity. For instance, a spell of silence would make him nigh-impossible to hear … but the suspicious silence that would follow him might tip off someone who's especially on guard. A moving area of darkness would only be of use if Alptraum had shadows to blend into … as a sphere of black moving through a well-lit area would likely be more conspicuous than he ever could be.
And then, there's the matter of trying to find out how to get to the Coalition Tower … and to get into it. Autumn-Storm has been trying to make some sort of contacts with the Savanite Underground, with no success so far. However, a ray of hope shone when Steward Malkaeus produced – unofficially – some copies of ancient blueprints from the records of Cenesta Construction.
It turns out that House Cenesta was responsible for building the original tower, long, long ago, and has taken part in many renovations since that time. This is by no means a complete map of the facility, since shrewd Babelites would know to get different contractors, lest any one person know too much, but it presents a number of possibilities of avenues of entrance that might not be heavily guarded.
For the meantime, Alptraum has been staying in a cheap dive called the Home Sweet Home, which, whatever it may be called, is certainly not sweet, and far from home. So cheap is it that the rooms don't even have beds; there are thin bedrolls for those determined to sleep horizontally, and rafters for those who prefer to sleep Eeee-style. The rooms are cave-like, devoid of windows, but blessed with thick walls that do considerably to buffer out sounds, and thus offer considerable privacy for those so inclined to seek it.
Autumn-Storm comes to visit, alerting Alptraum to her identity with a special coded knock at the door. Only once she's inside do they light a lamp, and she shares the news she's picked up.
"I've failed to find anyone with the Savanite Underground," she says. "My contacts are all dead or gone … or else I suspect that some of the names Clenching-Fist gave me may have been false, all part of some ruse to make it seem like he was part of a much bigger operation. I don't know what to think about that anymore… " The cheetah shakes her head, then moves on:
"I've overheard word from the Coalition Tower. The nobles and merchants there are convened for the composition of a new constitution. I've heard so many conflicting reports that I'm not sure what to believe about the particulars, but I gather that the new regime, whatever it turns out to be, will be a lot more friendly to Rephidim, and to the authority of the College Esoterica. That last part, I think, translates into doing away with 'sorcerers' such as priests and priestesses who aren't with the Temple," Autumn-Storm says. "For its part, the Guild Hall has been neutral about all this. I don't think they're part of the negotiations."
"Lots of people are mad about it, but most people, I think, are just resigned. Babel has taken so many beatings. I think the people are just tired and willing to go with whatever comes next, just as long as somebody stands up and leads. Most of those who tried to stand up and lead are dead now," Autumn-Storm continues. "Even when it comes to religion, I keep hearing stuff like 'Well, if the Kindly Ones care, they should do something. Until then, I'll pray to anyone, so long as I get food on the table.'"
"I've seen some Yodhblakat here and there, but they're all scattered, basically just 'Every woman for herself,' and fighting over scraps. I think they lost their high priestess, or else she skipped town. The Yodhrephath have been bodyguarding soup kitchens and relief workers. I've even seen Yodhrinala and Yodhrephath in the same room, and they don't even look at each other. I guess time's past for persecuting 'heretics,' when your own religion's on the line. All the Yodhsunala are bunched up on Mount Sunala, I hear; they've pulled back from all their shrines, and hid their Srinalas."
"No sign of any Yodhzakaros, Yodhinalas or Yodhbaradas. And the only Yodhgorphat I know of is up on Mount Sunala. She says 'Hi,' by the way," Autumn-Storm adds. "So, comfy place you've got here." She idly glances around the spartan quarters.
"It works for me for now," comes Alptraum's reply and followed by a shrug. "You know, I'd like to believe the people in there are trying to build a better tomorrow. But, with all that's happened in the past few days, I find myself hard to believe it. I really want to know what they're up to and what Thath is up to. Oh, and thanks for the message from Phlagaea. I hope she's doing all right." He pauses, considering something, then asks, "And have you seen how far the Coalition guards patrol from the tower?"
"They have flights that go out as far as the Wound, but I really think they're just for show," Autumn-Storm says. "I don't think they seriously expect someone to mount an assault. Every force that could has been decimated, is in hiding … or has its leaders visiting the Tower right now. So … you're going to try something crazy like going in there by yourself, huh?"
Alptraum waggles his eyebrows in answer. A moment later, he then adds, "In all seriousness, I'm worried about my grandparents. They're in there. I suppose I could go after the General and get help, but it's not like he's got many left. You think it's suicide, don't you?"
"Suicide was what we tried last time," Autumn-Storm signs. "This probably hardly compares … but it's still nuts."
"Well, I question my sanity on a regular basis as it is. If I could just walk up and ask a guard what is going on, I would. But I think that would be an even quicker way to end my life. I've got some old maps of the place so I could probably find some way in. Of course, there's the getting out … and what to do when I'm in there too, but," Alptraum signs, then sighs. "I feel like I should do something to make sure this isn't making the situation even worse for my people."
Autumn-Storm signs, "I won't waste my time trying to change your mind, but I just hope you're not planning on single-handedly taking on anyone who's in there. Spying is one thing. Pretending to be a one-man army is another."
"I'm not that daft, Autumn-Storm, don't worry," Alptraum signs. "I've got a mage friend who can make it so I blend in well. If I can perhaps find a uniform once I'm in there of a guard, I can probably blend in even better and at least be able to listen some. And I certainly don't want you coming very close to the Tower. So, if I don't make it at least you can get out of this nightmarish place and find a better life."
Autumn-Storm signs, "My 'better life' will be a lot happier if I know you haven't gotten yourself killed … but if there's anything I can do to help, you know all you have to do is ask." A hint of worry creeps into the cheetah's eyes.
"I know. But, this is something best left to one person, I think. I'd welcome your company till we get closer to the tower. Two sets of eyes and ears will better catch movements of the patrols than one. I'll see about getting my mage friend to cast his 'blend in' spell on me so I hopefully won't stand out too much, then lets move out. Along the way, let's try to find a place where we can meet up within a day of when we separate and I go on. I don't intend to spend much time in there. The less time, the safer, probably. Alptraum signs in reply. "If you don't see me within a day … or hear word about me. Well, you might want to find a route out of Babel."
Autumn-Storm signs, "All right! All right! I get the point!" She rolls her eyes. "Believe me, if I think you're dead, there's nothing holding me here anymore."
"I'm sorry. I just worry about what could happen to you here," Alptraum signs. "Anyway, we should get moving. I'm just going to take my daggers, crossbow, and those bolts the Yodhbarada gave me. They could make a useful diversion of need be. If thinks look too dangerous as we get close … of if when I reach the perimeter and find getting in looks nigh impossible, I'll back off, okay? I don't want to die here either."
Autumn-Storm nods. "All right. While you're in a gloomy mood about all this, any last words you want me to deliver to Phlagaea before you plunge into certain doom?" She smirks wryly.
Alptraum raises a hand and is about to say something, then stops. He hmms quietly for a moment and rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I hope they won't be last words! Just tell her I hope to see her again soon and that I hope she is recovering," he signs.
"Yes, if you plan on seeing her again soon, it'd work a lot better if you're not dead," Autumn-Storm agrees. "So, I suppose I'd best get my things, and meet up with you … say … at sundown?"
Alptraum nods. "Sundown it is. We'll go through the lower levels of the city to the Coalition Tower. Less likely to be spotted. I'll see you, say, near the Hospice at sundown?" Alptraum signs.
"Sounds like a plan. Oh yeah … do you need me to hunt up some 'travel rations' for you?" Autumn-Storm adds.
"Perhaps something I can eat before we head out towards the Tower. That way I won't be bothered by hunger during the time I'm in the Tower. Better to not be tempted in a place of danger, eh?" Alptraum replies and smirks.
"Definitely, and best not to forage for snacks in the Streets Below. I'd say 'You don't know where they've been,' but I that's not entirely true. Good luck. I'd say I'll keep an eye out for you, but if that magic is any good, I'll be the one that's spotted first." The cheetah moves to the door.
"Well, you are already 'spotted'," Alptraum says jokingly. "I see you in a bit."
Autumn-Storm pantomimes a groan, then slips out the door.
Alptraum grins fangily, rather pleased with himself. He busies himself gathering up the meager items he intends to take and slips out the door as well. "Now, off to visit the chatty mage and have the blend in spell cast on me. I'll need to ask him that if I change clothing, will it be affected, and so on. Just in case I do find some garb in the tower to further my disguise," he decides.
A tower stands high above those around it, watching over the expanse of the Wound, rimmed by lanterns and torch-lights that flicker on, one after another, as the sun slips down behind the mountains, and the sky begins to fade to red, and slowly darken. Priestesses in robes of Rinala tend to the sick and wounded, open and freely, even while steel-haired and steel-eyed priestesses of Rephath keep watchful eyes and readied crossbows, keeping the peace around this sanctuary – even if, officially, they're simply guarding the Wound from looters, not offering any help to "heretics."
It's a time of change, as those who once operated in secret can now operate more freely … and those who once walked freely now do so in secret. But then, there are those who time and again have had to resort to stealth, and one of them happens to be Autumn-Storm, garbed in plain and dull clothes, looking like some slave out on an errand, right down to the nondescript collar about her neck. She looks vainly about for someone she's waiting for … not noticing a slight shimmer in the pattern of stonework only a few yards away from her position on the bridge.
Alptraum grins wryly and moves slowly over toward Autumn-Storm. "Hey," he hisses softly, "Interesting look for you. Nice collar." A moment later, he stops a muffled laugh.
Autumn-Storm does her best to keep her cool, but her ears flick nervously. She turns about, and strains to see Alptraum. Then, realization hits her, and she looks off … at a spot just to Alptraum's left. "Barely see you! Impressive," she quickly signs.
"Look a bit more to the right," Alptraum hisses softly, "But yeah, it works well. It works better now that I borrowed a cloak to cover my clothing. Less it has to deal with. I just hope it'll last long enough, eh? So, ready to go? Grab anything for a last minute dinner before we head out?"
Autumn-Storm nods, and reaches into her own cloak. A sharp cry comes from the folds, and with some effort, she wrestles out a squirming blue yiffle. "It was – " she starts to sign with one hand, but then she has to use both to keep hold of the creature. With its short stubby legs, it looks like it shouldn't be able to get far, but it still manages to shake around and make a small fuss, even with a string tied tightly around its piggish muzzle.
Alptraum reaches out and takes the creature from Autumn-Storm. He holds it outward and faces it, ah, away from his body should it get too excitable and decide to decorate something. "Thank you," he in a low voice and snaps his head in quickly, sinking his teeth into the creature's neck.
The creature makes a final defiant squirm, but it's of little use – in short order, the yiffle falls still, and Alptraum finishes his dinner. Autumn-Storm looks away from the strange sight of a yiffle hanging nearly in mid-air – and the ghostly apparition of Alptraum that fades into the surroundings.
Alptraum lets go of the creature, satisfied. "It must look … disturbing through your eyes," Alptraum says quietly. "Do you want what's left? I'm sure you can cook it up later."
Autumn-Storm grabs the limp creature and stuffs it into a bag, as her answer. She then rolls her hand in a "shall we go?" gesture.
Alptraum looks at the cheetah a moment, hoping it didn't bother her to see that. "Avralie, let's go. No need to rush – slow and careful."
So the day goes: slow and careful. As the night goes on, there are points where Alptraum feels that the spell isn't quite as powerful as it was before. Back at the Guild Hall, perhaps the little unicorn mage had to take a break. (He doesn't, after all, have the luxury of apprentices of his own to keep the spell going.) But the spell picks up again, and with some care and diligence on Alptraum's part, he's able to keep quite out of sight of anyone who might bother to look his way. Autumn-Storm is not included in this magical effect, but the sight of a lone Savanite slave doesn't attract all that much interest – and when it does, she's quite capable of sprinting off and out of sight until her pursuers lose interest, or run into other distractions.
They continue like this well through the night, and some time before the sun starts peeking over the buildings and mountains to the east, they find an abandoned ruin along the Wound's rim that looks intact enough to serve as a defensible shelter. Autumn-Storm helps to scout it out, then to move debris around while Alptraum keeps an invisible watch. At last, they have themselves a suitable camping spot, and, sheltered from the outside, Autumn-Storm makes a fire (not at all unusual in the city) and roasts the "leftover" yiffle, even while Alptraum feels wakefulness slipping away from him – as it has been a very busy day for him, and, unlike Autumn-Storm, he didn't find time for a nap.
I'll keep a watch," Autumn-Storm signs, "and then you can go on. We're pretty close – I saw the Coalition Tower from here. I don't think I'll be able to stick with you much further."
Alptraum stifles a yawn. "Sounds good. Thanks. And I know you hate it when I get all mushy, but I want to say this. I appreciate all you've done for me and I wish I could do more for you. Should something bad happen tomorrow – thanks for everything, Autumn-Storm." Alptraum signs tiredly.
Curiously enough, Autumn-Storm doesn't even seem to notice Alptraum's hand-signs. Perhaps it's too dark. Or perhaps he's just too hard to see. She looks away, out through a crack beside what serves as a door (actually, an upended table with some broken furniture behind it for reinforcement), her face faintly lit by the ruddy glow of dawn.
"I hope she saw that. I don't want it to be a farewell, but," Alptraum thinks, then shakes his head, "Bah, being tired makes me gloomy." "Goodnight, Autumn-Storm," he mutters and lets his eyes close for awhile.
Time passes for Alptraum, at times seeming as if whole new lifetimes flit by in his dreams, then at others, it seems that hardly any time passes at all between the moments he fitfully wakes up, then tries to sleep again. The ongoing magic does strange things to his senses when he's half-awake, and perhaps it's partially responsible for inspiring the psychedelic jumble of sensations that plague his waking dreams … but at last, he wakes up to realize that day has slipped by entirely, for no light comes in through the cracks in the walls. But what's more … there's no sign of Autumn-Storm.
"Nnnng," Alptraum groans and sits up slowly. He looks around for Autumn-Storm for a moment, then realizes she's gone. "Be well," he mutters quietly, then goes about gathering up his things again. But, before slipping outside, he cants his ears and listens, trying to see if anyone is nearby before he comes out of hiding.
Outside, there is dead silence. He's never heard the city so quiet before.
"This isn't right," Alptraum murmurs. Slowly, so as to keep the spell up and adjusting, he peeks outside.
As he leans against the door for support to peer outside, very briefly the thought occurs to him that it should have been a table here, but there's actually a wooden door. It swings wide open, soundlessly, knocking some debris that lifts off of the ground, and floats weightlessly into the air. Beyond, Alptraum can see a jumble of broken towers … and beyond it, a vast cloudy, bluish sphere, with patches of brown and green on it that remind him vaguely of a curiosity he saw in the Cenesta household … a "globe." Only, the shape he sees doesn't have big letters spelling "Ur" written on it, or a big star where Babel should be located. No, this looks a lot more real, and behind it he can see a black sky and an endless starry expanse, with a glittering silvery band embracing it from far behind.
"Is this a dream?" Alptraum murmurs. "What the heck is going on?" he says, peering at the globe. "Where am I?"
Everything around Alptraum floats as if weightless, yet he stands solidly on the ground, walking as easily as he could in Babel – and, indeed, the architecture looks like that of Babel, despite its broken state, and the way it floats around in space, individual towers bumping and grinding against each other, and broken bits of statuary floating free. An Eeee flies by … or, rather, floats by, her body twisted and wracked, frozen red ice clustered around her eyes and mouth, and following her in a comet stream. Her body is distorted, swollen, frozen, and quite dead. But beyond, Alptraum can see someone standing amidst the ruin, on a distant balcony. Although it seems that there is no air here, her platinum gray hair flutters as if blown by an unheard, unfelt breeze. Her face is severe, and marked with stylized strokes of blue. She wears armor of hardened leather and chitin, and holds an absurdly large chitin battleaxe at her side, with a balance of scales in one hand.
She turns away from staring off at the globe, and looks directly at Alptraum.
Alptraum inhales slowly and stammers, "Rephath." He steps back instinctively, fearful. "Wh… why am I here, Rephath?" he calls out.
"You chose to sleep in the Wound, blanketed in ritual magic. How could you hope to escape my attentions here of all places?" Rephath responds, her voice low and measured. He raises one hand to beckon, and then gestures to a place on the balcony beside her. "Come."
Alptraum spreads his wings and lifts to the air. He flies … or is it floating? in this odd place over to the balcony and alights upon it. "I mean no intrusion or trespass against the Wound. I go to the Coalition Tower to discover what those inside have planned, and whom they hold as prisoner," he says steadily, trying to mask out any fear.
"I know," Rephath says, turning back to look at the vast globe, which seems no closer at all, for the distance Alptraum has spanned to reach the balcony. The tower he first came out of rolls out of view entirely, and a few broken chunks of rock float by, interspersed by bits of ice that are probably best not examined closely. "You have seen this before," she says, "in your nightmares. This is the heart of Babel that was plucked away, where now there is the Wound, and these are the dead. I have not forgotten them. I never will."
"I … I don't remember it as you do I am sure. But, I remember feeling their pain, if but for a moment, when Rockmore was punished. It was that pain that helped drive me to come here in a way. I had a foolish hope I could somehow help heal it, I guess. Or something like that, anyway. Even now I have the urge, the desire, to do something. I can't just sit while those in the Tower plan the future of Babel – even if it is a good plan. I can't risk not knowing and some worse fate befall us," Alptraum says and looks out over the ruined remains. He then shakes his head slowly, realizing his nervousness is causing him to babble on.
Rephath lets Alptraum speak without interruption, and only after he falls silent, she says, "You are cloaked in the work of the College Mages." Something about it sounds like a question, almost. "They are helping you."
"One is, yes," Alptraum answers.
Suddenly, Rephath takes her battleaxe in one hand, and, with a mighty blow, brings it crashing down onto the stone railing, which it splits apart, the blade burying itself in the solid stone of the floor they both stand on. Alptraum can feel the shock through his feet. Rephath seethes. "Who should pay for all this? Who must pay?"
Alptraum takes a step away, eyes wide. It takes him a few moments to gather his wits again to answer. "I don't know," he says slowly. "Who is the ultimate cause? What was the reason? And … when will the time come to heal the damage that has been done? We have to heal, or the wound will just grow worse and worse, destroying what is left. And … please forgive me for saying this, but we can't let a desire for vengeance destroy what we have left, can we? Wouldn't it be better to move forward and rebuild? Wouldn't that be the best form of vengeance? To show those who tried to destroy everything that they couldn't? Not even by ripping the heart from our city?" Alptraum then takes a step back, fearful.
Rephath rests her hand on the imbedded axe, staring off at the stars, taking several deep breaths, though in the myths of the 'Kindly Ones,' taking a few deep breaths never did any good for their tempers. "I am Vengeance, but the longer this crime is unpunished, the more I am undone. Rockmore lives in madness for his crime, but yet that is not enough. Yet we are reduced to … this." She closes her eyes. "But there is wisdom in your words, Barsunala." At this, she opens an eye, looking askance to Alptraum. "Or should I not call you that?"
"That, I do not know. I don't know what I am. I was hoping … well, that you would know," Alptraum admits.
"Who am I, then?" Rephath asks. "Do you not hear what the mages say of me? They say that I am a spirit, born from this 'Dream Realm' ritual, that I am nothing but an echo of magic – a ghost – sustained by the physic energies of the Babelite people. I am a conglomeration of the ideals of the people of what Rephath, Goddess of Vengeance, should be."
"But the realm of spirit is not one of causes and effects, not one beholden to the laws of the physical world, and the constraints of logic," Rephath adds. "What is the cause, and what is the effect? Am I here because the people desired Me? Or is this simply the way I chose to come to this realm for a time? Who can claim to be Rephath, more than I, if I am the embodiment of all that the people know as Rephath?"
"That may be what you were – a creation of magic, or it may not. I guess the real question we both need to ask ourselves is 'who am I now'? Or perhaps, 'who do I want to be'? " Alptraum says and looks over at Rephath. "Perhaps, that is what all of us must decide. And, such are not an easy questions to answer. For me, part of me wants to be 'Barsunala', here for a reason, wanted, not just a mistake. Being a child of death would not have to be something to fear. Where I was raised, one belief about death is that it is simply an agent of change. At least, the gypsy believe so. And maybe that's why I'm here now. To help Babel survive – and to survive now, some parts will likely have to change."
"Then you will have to choose," Rephath says. "I choose to be Rephath. That is what My people need, and I refuse to be some mannequin, some toy. But the choice is not so clear for you. Does Babel need a god made flesh, or does it need a mortal man? And what do you need? The gods of Babel are not eternal. Every god and hero has an origin. God or hero, you choose what you wish to be. Alptraum, Barsunala, or whatever name you choose for yourself, I will honor – but no one can make your decision for you."
"And in the end, I will probably have to decide on the same idea, what do the people want and need? What I want is to make a good difference for our people; where we can grow and live happier lives. I just do not feel I know enough about what is going on in Babel now to make the choice at this time, if that makes sense?" Alptraum says.
Rephath nods. "Do not take too long. It is not becoming for a goddess to not know by what name to call you." She looks up to the globe of Sinai, which slowly turns. Even now, the place where Babel should be, near the ocean, reaches the fuzzy line of shadow that divides day and night. "It is time," she says.
"I wish I would have longer to talk. There is much I would like to ask you about one called Thath. Something about him chews at me, and I do not trust the sincerity he's shown me in the past. Somehow, I feel he's behind this, perhaps even all of this," Alptraum says and waves a hand out over the 'wound'. "But, that will have to wait, I suppose, until I see you again. By then, I hope to have an answer to my own question of identity."
"Go with my blessing, then," Rephath says, though her voice sounds cold and distant, and far from warm and well-wishing. "Fly back to Babel … and beware."
Alptraum spreads his wings and takes to the air once more. "We will find closure to the wound that has torn Babel, Rephath," Alptraum calls back. "We will find and end, and a beginning. We will heal."
As Alptraum sets off, the floating ruins of Babel's Wound retreat behind him, fading in with the Procession, while Sinai looms before him – so unfathomably far away that it seems that he draws no closer at all to it … but at last, he does return to Sinai, as his eyelids flicker open, and the fleeting bits of magic-tainted sleep drain away from him. Somehow, he has slept the whole day away … but for what it's worth, he feels far more rested now than he expected, what with his fitful attempts at rest earlier. Autumn-Storm tends low-burning coals – low enough that they give off no light – and Alptraum can hear the rustling of a small animal tethered nearby. (Autumn must have gone out hunting.)
Alptraum sits up and yawns. "You know, I have really bizarre dreams. I've now talked with Rephath," Alptraum says. "She told me that I had a choice to make about my self, to be a God made flesh, or be a mortal man. It was very … strange. Has much happened while I was asleep? Where'd you find the food?" He turns toward the rustling briefly to see what it is.
It looks like a big fat lizard of some sort, lazy-looking and sluggish. Not the tastiest of meals, but it should do in a pinch. Autumn-Storm jumps at Alptraum's voice, then signs, "You're finally awake. I was afraid to touch you, fearing I might break your spell. I caught some glogs. I saved the fattest one for you." She takes a bite from some cooked meat on a skewer.
"I … wasn't fully here or I probably would have awoken sooner," Alptraum replies as he shakes off the last remnants of sleep. He scoots over to the 'glog' and grips it with both his hands. Shifting himself so that Autumn-Storm won't have to see it this time, well assuming she won't see it as he's unsure as to how transparent he might look, he leans in for dinner.
Autumn-Storm keeps busy with her own meal, hardly flinching at the shriek from the glog. (It didn't have enough of a muzzle to tie its mouth shut, it seems.) Dinner is soon taken care of, and Autumn-Storm has another glog to roast over the fire. Once that's finished with, Autumn-Storm signs, "So … I guess this is where I see you off. Take care of yourself, okay?"
"Avralie, I guess it's time. I suppose this is g… " Alptraum says, then stops right in the middle. "No, I'm not going to say that. This isn't a goodbye. I will see you again. I'm not going to get myself killed stupidly." He stands and stretches, asking, "So, if you're not carrying anything that stops magic, uh, want to give a crazy friend a good luck hug before we part?"
"If I can find you!" Autumn-Storm signs, and then she waves her hands around until she slaps Alptraum on the shoulder. Satisfied that this is him, she leans forward and gives him a tight squeeze!
Alptraum oofs and grins. He hugs the cheetah back warmly and tightly and says, "I'll see you in a day or so … or I'll at least get word to you somehow if I can't be there in person. You take care of yourself and I'll do the same. I've learned a lot about being sneaky from you!"
The cheetah gives Alptraum a peck on the cheek, and then finally lets go of him. "For luck," she signs, and then she tosses him a sloppy salute … and slips out through the doorway and into the night.
Alptraum blinks, but then salutes Autumn-Storm and smiles as she leaves; the silence once again surrounding him. Nervousness wells up in him and he takes a breath. "Well, I hope you know what you're doing, Alptraum. Remember, slow and easy. If things get too tight, back away and just come up with another plan. You can do this, you're supposed to be a child of a Goddess, so … have faith in yourself," he thinks, working at convincing himself and calming down. After a few minutes of gathering his gear, he extinguishes the fire and slips out the door and into the night again – and going towards the Tower.
