RP:Remembering Who We Are

Part of the The End's Not Near Arc

Summary: Reginae returns to Alithrya alone after running into a few obstacles. There she is caught stumbling through the halls by Iphigenia , Ha-Naga and member of Jaize's counsel (with obvious reluctance). They learn secrets about the past...and how they might yet save the future.

Alithrya Palace

A hush has fallen over Alithrya. News of Jaize’s defeat in Chartsend was being kept secret from the city as a whole. Instead, the news that traveled was altered. Tweaked, fake. Town cries proclaimed the naga victorious over the Chartsend land dwellers. Jaize held a city wide conference to explain the events in humble but charismatic detail and all her Ha-Nagas sat beside her and played their roles well. All except for Vestra. Neither was the woman present or playing any role beyond prisoner. Locked in Alithrya’s jailhouse, waiting for the only thing that comes after attempted (as opposed to successful) regicide - public execution; the highest dishonor. The other Ha-Nagas abhorred Vestra’s treachery, while secretly longing to join the rebellion. They were the closest and most valuable assets to the Ruler in all ways. They’d grown up inside the realm before it was cast off into time by the gods. They remembered a much different world, one steeped in richer belief. Jaize proved to be as shallow as a saucer as far as the by gone customs were concerned. She aimed for a new era, a cultural renaissance of sorts, where her power and beauty might inspire all of Naga kind to find more than warriors inside their hearts! Her vanity soiled the popular opinion more so than the murder of her sister. The city had fallen once, left stripped and bare thanks to her influence. To her lust for power, so willing offering her hand to Vuryal and now secretly to Kahran in a repeat union. It was not -entirely- secret. She’d issued a special division of soldiers to aid Kahran and his other generals but they were easy to keep quiet. They were like her children, no resistance whatsoever in the will of dust and bone.

Just now the monarch stares out at her kingdom from a bathing pool high atop the castle’s tower. An addition, to what used to be her battle - ready planning room. She’s learned her lessons about battle preparation and found it better to just enjoy the time given. Who knows how long it will last. Beside her stands one of her Ha-Naga advisors, she’s offering council on the misinformation of the war they’ve essentially involved themselves in. “I have nothing else to say on the matter.” Jaize snaps, the sharp angle of her chin becomes visible as she swivels her head away. “We’ve been granted a gift -” She starts, but the elder cuts her off. “We can not accept another chaos into our home. The Immortals are not -gods-. We should turn to Aramoth and our like minded allies in the mountains!” Jaize bawks, the water rippling around her chrystalline scales. The purest white, for the purest beauty. “It is done.” She hisses to the Ha-Naga, who frowns in disappointment. “Go,” Jaize commands with the flick of her wrist. “Go and tell the council the same. I’ll not hear another word about it, understood?”

In this same moment, Reginae is sneaking onto Palace grounds. The water gardens make for excellent cover and she shrinks down to the size of a child. Only so big as to carry with her two precious keys that might unlock the door to victory against her useless bourgeois Sister. The hallway that contains Muzo’s lab is right off the garden somewhere. There’s no looping patrol of guards, from what she could tell. It’s just her, shuffling along the marbled floors with her shoulders hunched forward to make herself look even smaller. Like a cat creeping through the underbrush by moonlight. The book on the history of the Ha-Naga is tucked safely in a side satchel, a glass jar containing an eye sloshes lazily in her arms, looking comically big for her frame. She isn’t paying attention to who occupies the hall now, still she sees no one ahead of her. The door to Muzo’s lab isn’t locked but she has to shimmy the handle roughly. The lack of use has made it stiff but it remembers quickly how to proceed and swings open to let the child like spy into a dark and dusty sanctuary where neither sound nor light seemed to penetrate. Footfalls nearby the door cause her to hold her breath and study the shadow that approaches with increasing panic.

Iphigenia glides away from Jaize, her carefully composed mask of acceptance darkening for the briefest of moments into a contemptuous scowl just before she reaches the dimly lit hallway. She recomposes herself into a more neutral expression to slither past guards. Jaize is obsessed with her own importance and doesn't care what she ruins, which is everything her scales brush up against. Stupid girl. "She's not to be disturbed," Iphigenia assumes a haughty posture in addressing the male naga who is now acting as captain of the guard. There has been not a little turnover in the palace staff. He bows to her, and she continues onward. Brainless but handsome, thinks Iphigenia. Surely he must be ambitious, betting that Jaize's ascendance to power will last. Or perhaps it had been Jaize who'd recommended him for the promotion, expecting a 'favor' in return? Surely it's lonely at the top and it's easier to control someone who so obviously isn't her equal. A derisive click of Iphigenia's teeth. She wonders, briefly, if her present attitude is not the petty result of Jaize's brusque dismissal of her counsel, but she doesn't care. She's so wrapped up in her scornful rationalizations that she almost misses the small figure hustling along the marble floor. Almost - but not quite. Iphigenia rears back, imposing her long shadow. "You," she hisses, raising a scepter that doubles as a lantern to see the girl's face. "State your business, I'm going to call for a guard."

Reginae hadn’t the time to scurry off into the darkness of the lab before Iphigenia’s lamp light finds her and she whispers a curse, like an anxious hiss. It’s impossible to know in a panic if she’s friend or foe, so the small figure tosses down her burdens and quickly steels her eyes against the woman and prepares herself for the worst. Tactically, shifting might not be quick enough. She’d either have to stall or lunge or- “Iphigenia…?” The cherub like voice doesn’t suit the former Liaison of Alithrya, but her eyes are the tell tale azurite that belongs to both her and her rotten sister on high. Her shoulders slack in minor relief, though the Ha-Naga could still be a threat and -has- to be treated as such. “Do you serve her now, truly?” Comes a more mature inquiry, her stature steadily shifting at what she hoped were non threatening intervals. Her hands were up in a classic ‘I surrender’ pose. She hoped her true form would continue expounding a powerful argument against calling the guards. The glass jar rolls to the floor, without shattering. It’s contents visible, bobbing to the surface like an abandoned magic 8 ball. It offered no real insight, which is hilarious considering it’s a construct FOR sight. It seemed to say ‘Ask Again Later’, giving no obvious hint or clue as to it’s mindless opinion.

Iphigenia illuminates the childish figure with her scepter, the older naga’s eyes quickly appraising her quarry as none other than Reginae herself. Her expression, previously seized with impatience, blanches. “No, you- you’re- dead,” she stammers. She angles her body and glances around them, to see if a guard had coming running at the sound of her raised voice. No, not yet. But perhaps soon one would patrol here. Iphigenia’s mind races as she returns her gaze to the small child in front of her, now unmistakable as Reginae. It was in the eyes. And yet, it could not be. Iphigenia feels a faintness flutter in her chest, and Reginae’s question sits unanswered between them. Iphigenia is playing it all out like a chess game. In her mind’s eye, she shouts for the guards and they come slithering to her aid. Reginae is taken into custody and quietly executed. Iphigenia sees her fate clearly after that. Alithyria can never know Reginae was alive, the Ha-Naga can never know Reginae was alive. It would only foment rebellion. And so, at length, the guards would come for her too. And, she too would be escorted to her death. The sound of the glass rolling along the marble snaps her back to the present. She cants her head and eyeballs Reginae the girl, well and truly. "No," she pronounces the word, feeling the delicious contours of rebellion in her mouth. She glances along the hall once more. "Hurry," she hisses. "Take that," she means the jar. "We have to get you out of here before you're spotted."

Reginae waits those harrowing seconds deducing her own plan. If Iphigenia should scream, shout for the guards, she’d have to run and leave her articles behind. She knows all the nooks and crannies of the palace from her childhood, could duck anything - bipedal or otherwise, without much incident. Shadowy corners and long disused rooms spring to mind, a ranking system even has time to formulate on the most obscure and nearby destination. Before she settles fully, every muscle tensed with anticipation of retreat, the Ha-Naga makes a decision. The child can see it in her eyes and leans down for the jar and book before she hears the words. Where would they go? “Just come inside, shut the door?” She suggests. “No one’s used this room in ages,” It only takes a quick glance to see it’s true. Months and months, almost years had unspooled since the dust had begun to coat even the floors. A giant tank, once filled with what looks to have been a brownish liquid, has evaporated to leave behind the colored residue to stain the sides. The homunculus was gone? Where had it gone? Muzo’d told her it was safe when he moved into the Uyeer kingdom, perhaps it was there. Perhaps it was all planned and he was never going to keep his promise and come back. The child hisses at the woman, who seems caught on the fence about the logistics of Regi’s plan. Where else would they likely not find her? The elder couldn’t take her to the Ha-Naga lodgings, where the others might see her. She’d endanger their lives as well. This spot truly was the best. She thought for weeks on this, hoped she knew what she was doing.

At the same time, in the palace, Jaize had begun to dooze. Artificial light from a faux ‘sun’ filtered through the stained glass windows. Pieced together to represent her mother during the prime of her reign. Those same piercing blue eyes cast a sharp light on her daughter, exposing heavy wrinkles in her normally unmarred skin. A dark pit begins to form where her left eye used to be, sinking back into a void that refuses to be illuminated, even in the direct light. The crisp blue of her eyes fades to a dull grey, while the slivers of glass that hold her mother’s eyes, soufflages the otherwise white tile with gradients between. The guards remain by the door, as commanded, just as nassely snores echo through the chamber.

It’s true that Iphigenia hesitates. She’s never been in that room, and it looks, from the hallway, dimly lit and like a poor hide out. The hiss gets her moving. She closes the door behind them and slides the lock into place. Inside, Iphigenia feels her heart beat like a drum. Reginae is alive and Iphigenia knows she is committing treason. She tries the word on mentally. It feels terrifying and thrilling. Now that they’re here, she finds herself taking stock of the room they’ve hidden inside. It’s as advertised: dirty. It’s appalling to her that a place like this could exist in the palace, but then again it’s not as if she made a habit of exploring every room to ensure that it was visitor-ready. She’s not sure if anybody did anymore. Jaize didn’t look much further than herself and was a poor manager for it. How quickly Iphigenia has moved to validate her decision. And yet how easily she’s distracted from it. She approaches the stained tank, feeling a disgust rise in the base of her throat. “It’s best that we wait until the changing of the guards to get you out,” says Iphigenia, reaching to run her finger along the rim of the tank and examining the film that she extracts on the pad of her finger. “Hm,” she remarks, turning to examine Reginae more critically. Her gaze flicks to the jar clenched by a chubby hand. “Why were you here to begin with?”

The residue crackles, scabbing off in chunks to meet the first caress it’s seen in ages. The scent that escapes is metallic. Changing of the guards? “I hope that’s enough time…” She mumbles, righting the jar of murky liquid so she might better examine it. It’s sounds crazy, rattling around in the back of her throat. Of course it will sound crazy when she says it aloud. “I came to figure out why...” The jar is rotated, tapped and shaken. The eye within does not respond. “I don’t understand. I think she has both of her eyes...” The thought is rushed to punctuation by a sound. The clink of armor hitting upon armor draws close by, shadowed by the lazy shuffle of scales. Two voices, both dreary with disinterest, discussing their plans for the humans they’ll eventually enslave. “Ain’t you heard? Kalinaras’ told me that the Q’een is bringing in fresh human from the battle! For a feast!” The cocky voice of an already overly stuffed male. “Yur full of it.” His companion answers with gruff disinterest. Their progress is steady and moves them down the hall in a matter of moments. Long enough for Reginae to realize she’d been holding her breath. So, she swallows and looks towards Iphigenia with clearer eyes. “Her eye should be gone. This is her eye.” She holds up the jar the way a child might extend a commonplace item for inspection. A scribbled drawing on the back of a receipt. “I need to know why. I think it could help end all of this and frankly...I’m tired of living in her shadow.” Determination paints her face in harsh shadows. Almost instantly, the naga looks years older, wiser, more prepared to do what she has to or die trying. “I thought I could figure it out on my own, but now I think...I need your help.”

Iphigenia studies the expression worn by Reginae as she handles the jar of mysterious liquid. Her eyebrows lift at the mention of both eyes, but she doesn’t have time to follow up for there’s the sound of metal armor clanking in the hallway. The guards. Iphigenia moves noiselessly, gliding to the door to flatten herself against it and listen to the conversation outside. She is perfectly still until the clanking of the metal armor grows more distant, and it becomes apparent that the men have moved on. Their conversation however indicates that there’ll be more guards than is optimal here tonight. A bad night for an escape. Iphigenia considers this and Reginae and her jar anew. “Jaize’s eye,” she muses, filling in what’s gone unsaid and, sliding away from the door, reaches for the jar. “If you don’t mind, since we’re co-conspirators now,” she says, dryly. Her gaze flicks over the contents of the jar, which she rotates carefully in her hand. There’s something therein, but there’s no way of knowing for sure, unless. “Are you so sure it’s Jaize’s eye?” asks Iphigenia, glancing at Reginae and reading in the other woman’s face the answer. She doesn’t know for certain. It had been there in her voice, realizes Iphigenia, setting the jar down with care on the counter. “Well, we can perform a simple but powerful Ha-Naga spell together that determines if you’re right,” she suggests, drawing her scepter from the latch on her robe.

Reginae nods, releasing the jar into the Ha-Nagas care without question. Co-conspirators. She liked the sound of that. “I remember how livid she was when she lost it. It ruined her ‘perfect face’. She put it in this jar with the hope that she could find a way to replace it.” But Jaize’s time had run out too quickly for her to worry about her aesthetics. The Fold won, Vuryal was vanquished, and all his generals and armies were lost to the inky void of time. “I’d hoped to cobble some spell together from this history tome, but this is even better.” A sigh of relief comes when the scepter is drawn. “And if I’m wrong, no harm done, right?” It was a adolescent reply. One likely to make Iphigenia roll her eyes with annoyance. So Reginae crosses her arms and waits, gaze flickering between the specter and the jar before realizing nothing is happening. Iphigenia is staring at -her- impatiently. The Other’s snowy brows furrow with alarm. Did she hear something she didn’t? “Do we...need to take it somewhere else?” Was Iphigenia planning on teleporting them elsewhere? Did Ha-Naga possess that power now!? If so, why hadn’t they gone as soon as they heard the guards? It wasn’t Aramoth’s way, she thinks bitterly, to her own dismay. Muzo’s science was outside the realm of what was practiced here still. The tribal heartbeat of war god worship and battle prowess above wit. The Ha-Naga is growing more impatient, staring holes through Regi expectantly. “What??” She whispers in a hiss.

Iphigenia pins Reginae out of the corner of her eyes, expecting her to approach, but the younger woman offers no further assistance. Realizing that none will be forthcoming, the Ha-Naga slowly straightens, turning her body to face the displaced queen. It seems they’re having a miscommunication, based on Reginae’s asking this question about changing locations. “No?” Iphigenia answers the other woman, her brows winging upward. Iphigenia feels annoyance trickle through her. Can Reginae be so disconnected from her Ha-Naga training that she doesn’t know what must be done? Iphigenia is self-aware enough to realize, after having that thought, that she is displacing her irritation with Jaize onto Reginae right now, and she exhales in a steadying manner. “I can form a connection with the matter, but you are her sister, the spell is most effective if you ask it to compare your biological composition to the contents of that jar,” Iphigenia explains patiently. No understanding creeps into the other naga’s expression, only an impatience simmers between them. “I thought you were trained in these things,” Iphigenia says, her tone sounding in frustration. “Nonetheless. Put your hand on my forearm, you must think and ask the question when the time comes. We should do this quickly before the guards return.”

Reginae is moderately offended but it doesn’t show. Iphigenia must be confusing her with Jaize. The Ha-Naga’s patience appears thin, she manages to offer vague instructions. Without another word Reginae steps towards her elder, offering an outstretched hand to place on her arm. Now didn't seem like the time to correct her. Still, that nagging bitterness creeps along her tongue. Her training had been magic, sure, but it was also history. Lore. Tonics. Fighting stances. War…Her mind wanders to those memories before she renounces the past for the present, her mind on the task at hand. How would she need to ask? Would the magic know what she wanted, or would she have to pose the question to the ethereal through Vestra? Ah, how her mind had wandered. She mistook the older naga for the captured. Iphigenia, she repeats silently for practice, until the prick of magic flows between them. Familiar anxiety presses out against her chest and while her brain struggled to conjure appropriate words of power, her lips and tongue moved of their own accord. “Ties that binds, ties that be, reveal the paths from you to me.” Is it her imagination or is Iphigenia also saying the words? Or is her own voice so full that it booms through the room surrounding them?

Iphigenia corrects her posture, biting her tongue, as she waits for Reginae to assume the position beside her. She's already probably committed treason by not turning Reginae in to the guards, so there's no sense in making matters worse by being haughty and immediately alienating the former regent, now her only ally. She lifts her scepter once more, feeling the pressure of Reginae's hand on her forearm. They speak the words in unison that connect them, and then Iphigenia speaks alone, dictating words that have no common counterparts as her scepter moves through the air to write the ancient symbols that go with them. A luminescence gathers at the tip of the scepter, is directed at the jar and its contents, which glow as they become suffused with light. "Ask the question," the words come in a hush, Iphigenia not daring to speak louder lest she put a snag in the tightly woven spell. She's barely whispered them when the answer pulses in the air around them, both deafening and silent at the same time. It's a thing to be known for the two of them, within the circle of this spell. The eye is Jaize's.

Reginae is nearly breathless, the power coursing between them is unlike any she could ever claim. It feels familiar, comforting - an old friend after a lifetime of separation. The question moves off her lips, provoked without her awareness, to weave around the scepter and reverberate soundlessly through the room. The eye jerks, as if alive, and the dull gray of the lenses flares an icy blue while the pupil pulses.

The guards can still hear Jaize snoring, right before she screams. They rush into the room, tridents raised to defeat her from the threat only to stare on in horror as she thrashes in the formerly still waters. Her lithe, claw like fingers dig aggressively at her eye socket while she shrieks urgently, as if she’s burning alive from the inside out. “DO SOMETHING YOU IDIOTS!” She half hisses, all howls. The guards stumble over her tail pounds into the tile and their uncertain forms. They can’t respectfully restrain her, so they endure and try to advance with little luck. The socket burns, singed with magic not her own and for a split second, she can see Reginae’s face marvel from the otherside of cloudy glass.

The back of Regi’s neck bristles with alarm. It’s unnerving, this eye. As the magic is withdrawn from it, the color dulls and it sinks back into the murky water complacently. The former queen turns to Iphigenia, a question about to drip off her lips, when they hear the bustle of guards back towards the pool where Jaize is still screeching. Silently, they agree. Time to go. Reginae stuffs the jar and book back into her satchel. Regi then latches onto the Ha-Naga’s wrist and drags her towards the back of the abandoned lab to a trap door, covered by a rug in true ‘sneaky’ fashion. Iphy had to go - indeed the guards couldn’t quell the Queen. It wouldn’t take long before they started calling for her, rushing to the temple. With her torso still visible, Reginae looked up at her and blinked. The spell. She knew the spell. “This leads back to the temple and to the dungeons.” Indeed, if she jumped into the cavern, it forked immediately. She’d learned all the paths in and out of the palace so long ago, during her training. The word strikes her oddly. Training or schooling? It doesn’t matter. They have to go.

Iphigenia feels that something has destabilized in the spell, and finds that thought reflected in Reginae’s wide gaze too. Elsewhere in the palace there is the sound of movement, of armored guards stalking about in alarm. Running to Jaize. Had that been a scream she’d heard, before? Iphigenia isn’t about to inquire further. She and Reginae have reached an unspoken understanding that they have to leave: now. Or be killed, in all likelihood. The Ha-Naga is frozen, though, and it’s the former queen who surges into action first, who directs their path by grabbing her around the wrist. “Where are we going?” hisses Iphigenia somewhat ineffectually, for she is literally watching Reginae roll back the carpet to facilitate their escape. There’s no time for explanations, it would seem, for Reginae’s dropped into the trap door and reached for her. With the sound of footsteps echoing closer to their location, and guards shouting in confusion to search every room, there’s nothing else to do but follow.

Reginae urged Iphigenia into the tunnel in time to shut the trap door before harsh light paints the interior of the dusty lab. They don’t search long, despite the displaced rug of the obvious trap door. Naga guards are braun, after all. Nothing more. By the time their scales cut new paths in the gathered dirt on the floor, Regi and company have made a decent clip down the pathway leading towards the Ha-Naga temple in fearful silence. Consequences spiral through the woman’s mind, a thousand death sentences she’d happy endure. It’s more concerning that she has an accomplice. Vestra circles through her mind again. She’ll have to go back to find her after leaving the Ha-Naga in safety. They stop below another hatch and she points upwards with a dark, mischievous smile. As if their hiding from the guards was a little less life and death, a little more hide and seek. “The Private Chapel.” Regi waits for recognition in her companions eyes; the awareness that they had to seperate in a moment’s time. No one would be in the Chapel at this hour and the Naga guards wouldn’t dare go in if a Ha-Naga was praying. It was one of the safest places to hide, so she’d learned. Often deserted for more public communes with Aramoth. Her chin tilts, pondering. “Do you know a way we could use this link? Your knowledge and skill far surpasses mine.” The link between Jaize and her old eye. A weakness; her suspicions had been confirmed. If only they’d known how sensitive it was to magic! “Imagine, if your detection magic had been warped to do damage…” A missed opportunity but a nice marker for the path forward.

Iphigenia's eyes adjust quickly to the darkness of the tunnel. She finds herself thinking, as they propel themselves forwards, listening for the death sentence of the guards uncovering the passage, ... thinking about the spell they'd performed together in that airless room. They stop, and Iphigenia opens her mouth, about to ask why, when Reginae indicates upward. Reginae is still speaking the words when Iphigenia realizes she knows this place: the god's song vibrates through the earth. "Yes," says Iphigenia, considering the question posed to her. She thinks again about the spell they'd cast, and - had it been? - a shared awareness of Jaize's pain. Something had gone awry. "The spell was a very vanilla spell. It wasn't supposed to react the way it did," says Iphigenia. "The link, to me, suggests that Jaize has replaced her eyesight using necromancy. You could use the link, but I would do so quickly, before she severs it." The Ha-Naga's gaze lifts to the hatch above them. She closes her eyes, listening, truly listening, to the space above them. No-one's there. Again Iphigenia remembers the strangeness of the spell: it hadn't been just Jaize. She tilts her head, looking at Reginae. "Can you hear the song?"

Reginae isn't thinking about the song until she's asked about it. For a moment she's quiet, tracing the outline of the door overhead, straining to hear. It only takes an awareness of it to make it audible. She doesn't appear amazed or bewildered. It made sense in the context of their escape and the song wasn't new to her. No, it was old. An ancient memory buried in lost time and piling hardships. “This song is why I love this place. It's… Comforting. Makes me feel… less alone. Even now, a chorus of airy voices drifts down through the temple flooring, oozing from every pore of the ground. Everywhere, and nowhere. “It makes sense. I'm sure she hated having her face flawed…” The eye. What would they have done without it? “I'm going back to get Vestra. She’s already in trouble, I can't ask any more of you.” Regi leans in, reaching for Iphigenia’s hands. “Thank you, truly.” Vestra was a Ha-Naga, surely they could cook up a spell together while Iphigenia continued her ‘servitude’. Maybe when the time came, she'd visibly stand her ground.

Iphigenia watches the shift come over Reginae's expression, feeling a knowledge take root within her. She says nothing at first, but rather lets the other woman continue, bringing the conversation thread back to Jaize. It occurs to Iphigenia - again - that her life is forever altered because now she's a part of this conspiracy. Even if she and Reginae never speak again, today's actions will haunt her. They may end her, if she's found out. Perhaps it's the high stakes nature of this enterprise that convinces Iphigenia she made the right choice - convenient self-validation - but there's no denying the unrest among the Ha-Nagas under Jaize's rule. Reginae's grasping her hands, and Iphigenia feels herself soften toward the younger woman. "Be safe." She leans close to whisper: "If you can hear the song, you are one of us. When you are ready, find me." Her mouth twitches in a smile and she pulls back, reaching for the latch above her.

Reginae releases her hands and watches Iphigenia go. She waits under the door as it closes, listening for sounds of scuffle or altercations but none come. Without realizing it, she’d been holding her breath. The exhale feels loud in the narrow space, the words replaying in her mind as she turns to take the other tunnel path. ‘If you can hear the song…’ Her memory flickers back to her telling an old instructor about the song and he seemed aware. The memory of is exact reply is foggy but it sparks a tingling from the crown of her head to the tip of her tail. Could it be that she’d been keeping a secret from herself all this time? Even in the midst of danger and turmoil, Reginae loved secrets.