RP:Sift Through the Truth

Part of the Time Heals All Wounds Arc

Synopsis: Aeric, Linken's son, visits the healer. He explains how she is the only one who can help Linken with his memory. Aeric also steals Linken's journal which reveals that Linken still loves her and she is the only one who can bring him back. This is just a whirlwind, yo.

Halifax Roots

Time had passed. Enough time to find a small sense of relief. Linken was safer in the temple, for that meant he was out of the picture, for now, Kyori was awake and in recovery, healer’s from the guild were behind her with her steps of guidance. She could not guarantee that the magically, ill Ardelian boy would be healed, but she would proceed to be relentless. The only problem was… her twin was dead. That was the burden for, Leon Lovik, the ill boy. The girl stares at the pyramid capsule on the counter for more than an hour. Her hand pressed against her forehead. There was no motion; only focus and pure dazing. The healer hears the cawing of a bird out one of the windows. The bird snaps her back into reality and she realizes the evening was slowly coming to an end, but the doors of the shop were still open. What time had it been? The girl slowly stands and moves to the door to lock up for the evening, she idly fiddles with her keys for the time being.

The cawing of the birds intensifies, the shadows of their dispersal fluttering across the windows and disrupting the warm glow of evening light. The cause for their retreat becomes apparent, as a larger shadow rises behind the door, which with a gentle push and sway would give way for a hooded stranger to enter. Without even a moment to spare a greeting, the figure walked quietly over to the nearest display shelf at his side, hands parting his cloak and placing themselves firmly on his hips as he quickly glanced over the many herbs and salves before him, his hood slowly rocking back and forth with each subtle turn of his head. "Hmm... So, this is the shop I've heard so much about..." Now, that's a familiar voice. At least, somewhat familiar. But there was something different about it... "Ugh," sighs the young man, lifting a hand to press to his forehead before slightly shaking it in disapproval. "...Doesn't look like you have what I need on the floor, though. I happen to be in the market for something -very- specific." You can almost place your finger on that voice as the stranger turns to approach the counter, face still shielded by his hood as it remains turned to the side, casually gazing over the remaining wares as he closed the distance between them. His feet plant, the counter the only thing spacing them, as he leans forward, resting one forearm on the counter top for support as the other lifted to pull the sagging hood away from his eyes, revealing a sharp, blue gaze and a half sarcastic smile. "I'm currently on the hunt for something to aid with memory loss. Wouldn't happen to have anything like that here, would you?" THAT'S why the voice sounded so familiar, it's Aeric: He just isn't yelling a lot now. And, for the most part, he doesn't -completely- seem to be in a sour mood. For the most part. "Nice place you have here." That was actually sincere, whether or not it came off that way. "Look's like you're 'quite busy' at the moment, as well. Which is good, because I need to ask a favor of you."

Penelope watches as the shadowed figure moves in. “Uh, sir, we are—“ he interrupts her with the observation of the shelves. The voice sounds oddly familiar and she slowly stalks after closing the door behind him. The healer would then move to the counter again and watch him closely. He inches closer to the counter and leans forward. Her stare is expressionless, but inside she is itching to know that voice. The young man acted like he owned the place, but then the hood is pulled to reveal the familiar face. Aeric. There is a sense of silent relief. “Thanks,” she says slowly before taking the pyramid that was sitting on the counter and placing it in a cupboard below her legs. “A favor?” Her brows raise. “From me? You sure about that? You do –know- who you’re talking to, right?” The girl then stands from the barstool and begins to close the books in front of her to keep her hands busy. “If it’s a plant for memory loss for your father, I’ve already been there. I’ve searched multiple towns in Lithrydel. Memory herbs are a rare commodity, and, honestly, they have to be in a strong enough elixir for amnesia that strong like your father has.” Moss eyes finally gaze into the boy who was now… basically a man. She was relaxed now than earlier when she ran into Aeric with Linken. She was collected. More reasonable to talk to.

Aeric's eyes curiously followed her every movement, watching as she put the mysterious object away beneath the counter before moving on to the rest of her busy work. "Oh, trust me, I know." His gaze narrows slightly, but only for a brief second. "That's exactly why I came to you, because you're the only one who can do it." He sighs, dipping his head back down to hide beneath his hood as he grumbles to himself. "...believe me, I've tried..." Clearing his throat with a cough, the young elf lifted his head and swept a hand over his crown to brush his hood back, digging his fingers into his scalp to scratch at an itch as he fixated his gaze on a random knot in the wooden counter top. "...Look, I need you to go and talk to him. I'm not asking you to -do- anything, just... convince him to come home. He can't stay there forever, not like this, not when he needs help. This doesn't even fix anything, he's only avoiding it..." Some of his frustration begins to visibly boil through his facade, though he remains subdued pausing occasionally to either sigh, grimace or close his eyes and collect himself; whatever it took to keep a cool amidst this ridiculous situation he's found himself in. "I-I tried to tell him all this, to tell him we could help, but he's just so, so...grrrrr..." Wow. Something they could actually agree on. "...He won't listen to a word I say. And, well... we're not exactly seeing eye to eye, at the moment." He begins rapping his fingers anxiously upon the counter, lurching forward and lifting an arm to drop his chin into the cup of his hand. He seemed obviously distressed by the mere mention of Linken: what could have possibly happened between them? "And that's exactly why I've come to you. Then again, I'm not sure he'd even cave to you this time, buuuut... I figure it's worth a shot as any."

Penelope blinks at the boy. Her hands come to a slow before they stop fiddling with the papers and books in front of her. “Aeric, I think I’m the last person he wants to see. After what happened at the temple? Besides, that temple seems to be the only thing keeping him together because when he got there, everything stopped. It was like Arkhen praised him and gave him the strength he needed or something…” After the incident between her and the young man, her face grew ginger and solemn. “I don’t know if I can fix it? If he comes back, what am I to do? There’s been no hints besides that temple. I know he’s your father, but he’s… sort of out-of-hand.” The healer finishes the boy’s sentence. “Stubborn. He’s stubborn. Just like you. Just like me. That’s pretty much how we all connect.” Eyes look over the boy with the blue eyes. Her head cants in empathy. “I want to help you. I want to help him. Gods, I risked my life for keeping him in my doors, but people have told me to stay away for safety. I care for your father, I really do, but we don’t have a plan. For all we know, once he does leave—if I can convince him—all hell might break loose.” Her eyes squint. “I don’t know if that is something we should risk. Not blindly.” Her words are chosen carefully, afraid she might offend the child due to the last time they ran into each other. Perhaps then, Aeric was blinded by confusion and pain, for so was she.

Aeric stares at Penelope with a puzzled look as he listens to her words, his brow twisted in a knot as his gaze narrows, wondering if she feigned confusion, or simply hit her head. "...Are you being serious, or?...Wait, do you really not remember?" Then, it dawned on him, his gaze widening and mouth taking the shape of an 'o' as his head slowly raises up from his lofted hand. "...Ooohhh... You really don't know. So, he actually never told you? I always figured you would have found before I did...Now that I think about it," he averts his gaze to the floor, correcting his posture and folding one arm flat against his abdomen while the other itched his chin, "...he never actually got the chance to tell you. You left before he could." He'd linger on the thought for a moment, eventually realizing that now the explanation fell to him, the anticipation plastered clearly across his face and definitely not sarcastic whatsoever. "Oh, boy." The half elf lightly smacked his hand on the edge of the counter, lips puckered in an awkward smile as he slowly pivoted around the shop counter, and Penelope, to draw out the stool beside her and proceed to seat himself with a deep breath. "Penny, I have a question: The entire time you were with... us, did you ever actually stop to ask yourself, why, after -everything- he's been put through, past and present, my father chooses to continuously throw himself out into danger for other people's sake? Always getting himself hurt? And did you ever wonder why my sister and I never questioned nor argued?" Aeric leaned closer, opening his mouth to speak, but only silence came forth; there were so many places he could start, and he was quite indecisive, so with a smile and a deep breath, he'd try again. "...Arkhen did not 'praise' him or grant him strength. My father was -touched- by him." Linken had told her before that it was through Arkhen's grace that he kept his passenger at bay, but perhaps when he said it, he meant it literally? "You were not around yet, and I was still little, but I mostly remember... I just didn't fully understand what had happened at the time, not until he explained it to me. I remember being in Larket with my father when it was attacked by this...creature, I don't recall what it was...but Father, he- well, you know. He was still enlisted, so he hadn't really a choice., I guess. My father and the soldiers fought that thing the entire afternoon, and as hard as he fought, my dad got...overwhelmed." The grim expression accompanying that word left no uncertainty about what he meant; The Entity. Aeric closed his eyes, lifting his hands to massage his fingers into his brow as he tried to stimulate his recollection. "He collapsed, and started shaking, screaming- That thing, it was trying to take over his body, I think. He had a friend, though, this large, bulky Paladin, who came rushing to his side, and I don't know what he did when he got there- prayed, or something, but all I saw next was this -massive- flash of light, it was just...blinding. I honestly don't remember much myself after that, but Father has told me since what really happened at that moment..."

Penelope stares as he realizes that she, in fact, never gave his father the time of day to explain his story. She left before Linken ever could. Aeric then comes and sits near her. The teenager bracing himself to speak the true tale of Linken. The question he poses has her mouth tight. “I just always thought he was one of those souls who cannot keep himself out of danger. There are plenty of people like that whom call themselves warriors.” Lionel was like that. Krice was like that. Kyori was like that. Was it not common amongst men? Warriors? Were they not trying to play like the storybook characters? Linken had always been the hero in her eyes when she was that naiive twenty-two year old girl. She did not wonder about Lexi’s thoughts. Penelope figured her dad made the choices he made. The woman then lets him speak with a squint of paying close attention. Arkhen had touched Linken? Her lips sort of part in a speechless mannerism. Throughout the story, Penelope’s face corresponds with Aeric. Grim. The Entity. “What did happen…?”

Aeric half-smiled, shaking his head still in disbelief as he interlocked his fingers and placed his hands on the counter, giving a slight wiggle to adjust his comfort before continuing, leaning closer to speak in hushed tones, as if to hide the revelation from any would-be eavesdroppers that clearly aren't present. "Arkhen happened, -that's- what. The bright light -was- Arkhen, he actually appeared on the battlefield! Well-" he catches himself, not wanting to lose any details to the excitement he exuded at the prospect of having potentially seen a God, for in spite of that fact, he had his own reservations about what took place, and how it's affected his life. "...At least, that's what he told me. Father was the only one who could actually -see- him; the rest of us were all blinded by the light, and like I said, I don't remember much past that point... but Fathr told me that Arkhen came to him in his time of need, saw his plight, and took pity on him... and so, they made a pact..." The young man took a -very- deep breath, turning his gaze towards the front of the shop, growing darker at the evening light begins to dim. "Arkhen took a piece of his divine light and placed it in him. Used it as a...sort of cage, to contain the dark being in him, and free him of it's grasp, and in turn, my Father became Arkhen's Sentinel..." Aeric would glance over at Penny, noting the confusion that term may have caused and quickly interjecting, "Basically, he became the God of Light's hand in this world, though he could not be anointed as a Paladin, due to the lingering taint of darkness on his soul, and therefore was not bound by their strict moral code..." He sighed. "...But a God's will must be done by his chosen, and they never give their blessings for free. At least, that's how it seems..." The half elf slides his hands from the counter, gripping the edge of the stool as he twists on his rear to better face her, speaking directly, and from his heart. "Penny, believe me when I tell you that if he had a choice, my Father would dropped his sword ages ago, and never left our sides... But it turns out he never had a choice. All this time, he's been going out there, putting his body through a bloody meat grinder for that... God, and all because if he broke his pact then he would have lost Arkhen's Light....and his protection." Aeric's hands drew attention to them, trembling at how tightly he gripped the furniture between his legs, the malice he felt slowly starting to bleed through his voice with a hurt tone. "...All this time, the entire reason he continued to fight was to protect us- me, my sister, -and- you...from himself. He said it was the only way he could keep us safe, to have anything close to a normal, happy life with us..." Aeric would dip his head, a poor attempt to hide the sorrow in his eyes behind his shaggy, blonde locks as it was given away by the lone tear that traveled down his right cheek. "...If you ask me, he was taken advantage of at his weakest, and merely forced to trade one shackle for another..." Linken, a prisoner to the whims of demons AND gods? How on earth does someone get out of that rabbit hole, and how could they even get in it in the first place?

Penelope had a look of complete confusion the whole entire time. Her eyes were doe-eyed, yet concerned. Her brows were narrowed slightly. As the story continues, the girl’s hand would raise and reach her chest. She would start to rub her chest in one of those nervous habits. Linken was Arkhen’s hand. He had to go against the darkness in the world, but also balance himself with the darkness in his soul. As Aeric faces her, her gaze becomes controlled on his blue gaze. ‘Penny, believe me… he never had a choice’. Perhaps she was growing paler as he spoke, but she held onto every word. The single hand rests on her chest. The dots were slowly connecting in her mind that was twisted in a whirl. “He didn’t want to keep killing or risking his life...” She repeated his words in her own words to put the pieces together. So, Linken was more complicated, yet the warrior was the one bound. “… So if he is to owe Arkhen, but still tied to the entity… how the hell does he get out of the situation? How is pulling him out of the temple any good if Arkhen is having him protected from that dreadful thing?”

Aeric turned his entire body on the stool to face Penelope, leaning to his side towards the counter and propping himself up with an elbow while his other hand fell to his lap. "Because, Penny, there are -priests- in that temple with him. Are you willing to bet their lives on the notion that statue is going to keep everyone safe forever?" The boy raises both hands and places one in the other, extending one digit after another as he used his index to count off his many points. "My father was an expert with dealing with this creature- I mean, he'd done it for so long without killing anybody. He knew how to controll it to an extent, even before Arkhen touched him. But now, he has no memory, no will to fight, no faith, he’s never even met Arkhen, nor has he done anything for him. How long do you think that protection is really going to last?? I may not know as much about that thing as my Father does, but I know that every time it shows up, it does it in bursts- It has to recover in between possessions every time. Penny, exactly -how- long has it been since he turned last?..." It was a rhetorical question, being that he was there, so he'd not wait for her reply before continuing, lurching forward with his arms barred and pressed to his knee caps as he spoke firmly, but surely. There was a deep resolution within his eyes, a willingness to go to any length to meet his goal, much akin to the man the two of them were trying to save. Clearly, the elf had rubbed off on this one. "Listen, I know its dangerous, but I think our best bet at saving him is bucking down on bringing his memory back. At the very least, help him get to a place mentally where he remembers whatever he did to bottle it up, until we find a more permanent solution. He -told- me this thing had a plan for all of us, and that's why we have to stay away... but, if that's the case, then why would it hurt us? If we're so important to whatever its trying to do, then it wouldn't hurt us unless it wanted to hinder itself. Has it hurt -you- yet?"

The teenager had a point. There had to be a loophole and the statue could not be the savior forever. Eventually, Linken would have to stand up again and resist again. As Aeric listed off the points, the woman would slowly nod along to each one of them and contemplate. The memory. That was the key now. The girl stands up to sort of catch her breath from Aeric’s talking and explaining. He was reeling her back in, and she was letting him. How long had it been? The last she heard was with Krice in the forest, and he had attempted again long after that. The spans were getting longer each time. She walks to the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of wine. The girl wanted to take the edge off. She pours a glass for herself before turning around. The girl sits down before actually speaking. Green eyes rest on the boy. “You’re right. The thing hasn’t been around in a while. I have noticed the patterns, and I’m not sure what triggers it.” The physician takes a sip of the merlot in her glass. “The entity hasn’t hurt me yet,” she sort of clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “But I’ve seen it hurt another. It… ripped someone’s head off in front of me,” she tries to say this with stone, but instead she is reaching out for Aeric’s hand across the counter for support. Her face looks distant to get herself together. Eyes stare at the teenager. “But getting Linken’s memory back is the most important thing. To fight this. I don’t want him to give up. Not like I did, and… I don’t want to, Aeric. I’m so sorry I left you behind. I…” Eyes close for a beat. “I want to help again now. I’m not going to leave. Not until Linken’s memory has return.” She releases the boy’s hand. “The only question is how we get Linken’s memory back? What is going to trigger it?”

Aeric listened attentively to her recounting of the past several weeks, though he'd appear visibly taken aback by her description of the violent attack. "O-oh my, I-" He didn't know what to say. Aeric had figured that something bad would have happened by now if Linken had been in this state for as long as he has, but this was the first real confirmation of any kind of death he'd heard. Not only that, but...-ripped- his head off? He gulped. "Y-you mean with his-oh." His words were broken by the very thing he had on his mind; A hand. Hers, actually, having snaked across the table to clasp his in search of reassurance. Aeric was well trained by his father, but mostly shielded from such things; While aware, he couldn't imagine what it must feel like to have witnessed such an awful event. "Penny," he hummed, giving a firm, reassuring squeeze in response and rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "Hey, it's alright... It was out of your hands, there wasn't a thing anyone could do..." Aeric was a good read on people, and though he had his reservations with her after everything that had happened, past and present, it was clear Penelope had been through a lot, and as she continued to pour out her heart he could feel the sincerity in her words coming from a place that was guttural, real. He was beginning to get a sense of her terror, and it made forgiving her a much easier task than he'd expected. "Penny, you don't- Please. It's okay. I get it, really." He offered as sincere a smile as he could with the concocted imagery of such a brutal death still fresh in his imagination, and when his hand is released he'd pull it to his chin, falling back once more on the support of his elbow as he began rapping his free fingers o the table. "Hmm... I don't know. I guess you've gotta ask yourself what happened every time some of his memory came back to him. Was there some sort of... I don't know, common trait between each instance?" Now that he mentions it, there was one or two vague connections between his fits of recollection. One, was that they all remotely centered around familiar things; A word, or phrase, an event reminiscent of a past memory. Maybe even objects, people as well? The other, was that every time he remembered something, it hurt like -hell-. The question was, what on earth do either of those things have to do with each other?

Penelope kept her eyes close at Aeric’s realization. Eventually she shook her head. He had grown to be just like his father. Forgiving. Strong. The young spitting image of the elf. “No, you don’t get it, and you won’t, but I just needed to say it, Aeric.” She blinks before they come back to their thoughts of how to reach Linken’s memories. Her finger sort of stirs around the rim of the wine glass as she thinks. “Everytime his memory came back…” There is a long pause of thought as her brows furrow. She slowly leans back and leaves the glass be. Her eyes stare into the deep red drink in the glass. “With every memory returned, they were brutal and well, he had to live through them. I remember the entity told me I have to tell him everything I know about his past, but the entity told me that, so perhaps we shouldn’t? And… I don’t know everything about him. I only know the history on what happened with us.” She looks sort of lost. Although witty, darkness and memory loss were out of her hands. “He has a journal… His old one. I’m not sure if there is anything in there either able to help him, and even so, it should’ve already, correct?” Her green gaze finally settles on the teen as if maybe she was searching for answers from him.

Aeric, as her gaze returned to him, proudly wore as sheepish a smile as any growing, hormonal teenager with tendencies towards a growing defiant nature ever had before him, said journal clenched tightly in his hand as he waftd it back and forth beside his head. "You mean ~this~ journal?" Did he -steal- that?? Perhaps he had a few select traits that varied from his father. Placing the journal flat on the counter, the half-elf would slide it closer to Penelope 'til it was within reach, though he'd refrain from pulling his hand away before issuing his warning. "I've already been through it, cover to cover. It doesn't have anything useful in it, in -that- regard..." Something about his tone alluded to an ulterior reasoning. "...Buuut, he does have -hundreds- of these things back at home." One can imagine the look he'd be met with at such a statement, preemptively shrugging his shoulders and flashing a brief 'duh' expression. "What? You -do- know how old he is, right? Do you really think you could cram a millenia of detailed experiences into a couple hundred pages? Either way, theres plenty more where that came from, and knowing my Father, I'd imagine they go back quite a while. I've never been through them myself, outside of what Father's shown me in them, but I'd guess that at some point he'd have written about something as significant as what we're looking for. It will take some time, but I figure if Alexia and I crack down on them, we might be able to find something we can use. That one, however..." he'd pause, eyes falling to the journal before Penelope once more as he slouched back on the stool, arms folding across his chest as he lofted his brows. "Well, I figured you'd be interested in it. It's actually the reason I came back to you for help. Once I got into it, I-" He cuts himself short, smirking awkwardly before averting his gaze with a sarcastic eye roll. "You'll see." What on earth could this journal possibly contain to make Aeric react that way? One could only imagine. Not for long, though, because Penelope's probably going to open it.

Penelope gave a twisted gaze at the young man’s smile as if he had a little knowing secret. The journal is then flashed within her face. “You took it?” Her brow quirk, but she is holding back a smirk by his actions. Smart kid. Her eyes scan the journal before a small hand reaches out to rest on the book. He does not pull away and her moss eyes lock to his. What else was useful then? As he speaks, her eyes fall back on the journal. “Trust me. I know he’s quite the old man,” she makes a light joke. Finally. She was loosening. “Do we even have time to go through hundreds of these?” The physician catches the teenager’s gaze again. Her head slowly tilts her head. Amnesiac Linken was talking about the journal like a mad man, but she had not wanted anything to do with the thoughts, however… time healed all wounds. Even the internal, and with the confession of her brother, and the realization that Linken was tied to something greater than they ever would be, it was time to open up again. Push forward. Live in the present. ‘Once I got into it, I… You’ll see’. The freckled girl would then slowly slide the journal closer to herself. The wine is unacknowledged and left to the side. A breath is sharply inhaled as she hesitantly opens the cover. As she opens it, she exhales and begins to flip through pages and her gaze occasionally flicks to the boy’s to see his reaction. She did not know what to expect, but she would soon learn to find out.

Aeric sat still with his arms and legs crossed, one foot bobbing as he maintained a faint smirk of amusement on his features, though one that would slowly take a melancholy air, knowing what was to come as she fanned through the pages. He didn't require the book for that knowledge, however; he got to watch it unfold. The early pages of the book contained mostly what one would expect of a journal; random thoughts, personal notes and reminders, shopping lists, directions, recipes and the like. They were, however, outmatched by the sheer volume of artwork in its pages, all done in black and white and vastly detailed, their subjects ranging from animals to random passerby, man made constructs to massive sailing vessels, the interiors of buildings and places of commerce to landscapes randing from the peaks of Frostmaw all the way to the depths of the Underdark. "He liked to show us," Aeric would interject, dipping his head towards the layers of artwork between her hands. "We always wanted to go with him whenever he left. Eventually we understood it was too dangerous for us, but he still felt bad... So he used to sketch all the places he'd visit and things he'd see, so he could show us when he came home." Aeric's smile seemed to soften a bit at the recollection of such fond memories, but it would last for only so long. Then would come the next page, a literal turning point, slowly folding over to reveal the next piece of art to be a portrait of a woman' face. A familiar one, too, given that Penelope would have to look at her every time she gazed in a mirror. Then, as the next page flipped, another one, this time a full-body portrait, followed by another, and another. The latter half of the book was filled with drawings of her, each one pulled from the recesses of Linken's memory, their consecutive nature broken only by the occasional fleck of literature, accounts of dreams and off-hand poems and songs. The artistic expressions of his thoughts and emotions would suddenly cease, rather abruptly at that, as the outpouring of sketches were stonewalled by a page that was decidedly left almost entirely blank, save the bottom right corner, the small portion filled with a simple cursive text that read, "I miss you."

Following that page, there would be no more art, no more poems. Only words. Page, after page, after page of paragraphs, documented accounts of adventures had and dungeons delved, numerous excavations made in what Linken loosely refers to here and there as a hunt for for various designated artifacts of holy nature, with the occasional mention of tools or weapons, and by the frequency and length at which these entries were made, it would appear many of the elf's nights were spent sleepless. "He was looking for something that could kill him." -That- was a hell of a way to break the silence. And yet, Aeric seems unfazed by his exclamation, a truth that he had already come to terms with long ago. "I know he doesn't say it in there, so I wanted to make it clear. And if you're still curious why," he sighs, adjusting his rear on the stool and tugging at the seams of his tunic to straighten it out, "...'You can't spend the rest of your life with someone if your life never ends.' That's what he told me the first time I confronted him about it...And, no, he never found one. Not yet, anyways..." Eventually, Penny would come to the last page, the contents of which appeared to be a letter, though it was rendered completely ineligible, due to the majority of the page being spattered with thick layers of blood. Could this be Linken's final message, penned moments before Penelope found him on the brink of death? The only lettering that can be made out clearly are the first five letters at the top, 'Penel-', and the last two at the bottom, '-ou.' After that, all of the remaining pages are blank. "I don't know, maybe you can restore it, or find a way to clean it, or something. I'll admit, I'm curious what it says, but...I don't believe it's meant for my eyes." Aeric sank back against the counter, his fingers interlocking on his abdomen as he watched Penelope's reaction to the journal witha lofted brow, curious if her reaction would be similar to his own. "-Now- do you see why it was you I came to for help? Regardless how you feel about my Father, he still loved you. He still does, I think, and I believe that gives you the best shot of pulling him out of the back of his mind out of anyone. However, I also think that's the reason the entity has a plan for you...I believe it intends to use you in some way to get to him."

Penelope shuffled through the pages of lists and sketches of buildings. She recognized some buildings and others were vague, for even she had never traveled to such places. The Underdark brings her shutters as her mind reflects once of torture and explosives. As the teenager speaks, she would silently gaze at him as he would fill in her gaps and she would only nod in return. The layers rested thickly. Linken’s daily life. What he saw, what he did, what he wanted to do, who he wanted to be. There is a faint smile that rests on her face at the scribbles on the pages. A small thumb and finger turn the next page and then the smile fades. The girl on the page is full of life and wonder, joy. The girl is bright-eyed and well-bounded with sweaters and skirts… innocent and young. A girl who was now lost and seemed gone. A pages are turned swifter as each page is a new image of the girl whether in baker’s clothes or unkempt and naturally thrown together with bits of prose or phrases by each piece. Then, nothing. Eyes flick down to the corner of the page where the lingering ‘I miss you’ is twisted in beautiful scratch at the bottom of the page. Moss eyes stare hard at those three words. Three tiny words. One simple phrase. Beat. The next pages are turned and when Aeric speaks, she had almost forgotten he was there. A sharp inhale is ingested at the straight, blatant words are thrown out.

Penelope tries to keep her composure as she inches towards the final page where the letter is stained in crimson and only the beginning of her name is curved out. The silence was eerie. One could hear every creak of the building the two lingered in as she stared at the blemished letter. Two elbows slowly move up to the counter before her face falls into small palms. The absence of sound still leaves a gap between the older woman and the young man. Aeric’s words flow out of his mouth, ‘maybe you can restore it’ and then her shoulders begin to quiver. A small huff is let out beneath her hands, but slowly and ever-so-quietly drops of wet begin to flow freely from those clenched hands over her face. The woman who was normally so programmed and relentless to touching emotion lets it swarm her. The floor beneath her felt as if it shattered and for moments on end she cannot stop the tears from falling. Eventually, her head lifts and she begins to laugh with the hysterical tears. “He wanted to die, Aeric. I blamed him. I blamed him for years. And all he ever tried to do was love me. Sven, I’m a monster,” she had to make light heart, but well, that was hard. The woman stands to pull away from the journal and moves to the counter behind the two to catch her breath. “He’s not the reason I am the way I am. I am. I shut away. I pulled away, and it shouldn’t be like that. He shouldn’t have had such a heavy burden like that to hold. I killed him.” Her fingers tap in fidget on the counter as she ponders Aeric’s words, but there is no hesitance in her voice, for she was already six feet under. “I’ll do it… I’ll do whatever I Gods have to do to save this man from this curse. This hell on land. I won’t stop until his memory is back, and I could care less if he hates me for it for bringing him officially back.” The woman stands tall and finally faces the boy. “If the entity wants to drag me in, so be it.” Her head shakes. “It’s not going down like this. Linken will get his memory back. You –will- get your father back. Even if things go south. He’ll return to himself, I can tell you that much.”

Aeric did not expect this. Her reaction, her cries, the overwhelming emotion she poured out; he honestly didnt believe Penelope would truly care, at the very least not like this. Until recently, Aeric was fairly set in his opinion of Penelope, but suffering under the smothering weight of her heart ache was enough to peel away every reservation he had of her, and found himself joining her in her sobs. "Penny...hey..." Desperate to try and alleviate her grief for both their sakes, he continued to talk to her through her cries, trying in earnest to bring her out of the well of tears in her hands and focus on him. "No, no, Penny, listen to me. He did -not- want to die, okay? He wanted to -live-, with you. With all of us... But, he knew there'd come a day when he'd be here and, well... none of us were, and he wasnted to be able to...join us. Listen- he's my Father. I love him, more than anyone else, save my sister, and there's no person in this world I look up to and admire more. I will -never- be okay with the thought of losing him...but, I'd be lying to myself if I claimed to not see the logic in his way of thinking... Because if I were in his situation, I'd want the same thing. At some point, I'd want peace, Penny. ~Peace.~" "His attempts at using his speechcraft to levy the dourness of the mood was in vain, for the moment Penelope looked him in the eyes and claimed to have killed him - and believed it - the pain he felt at being the one to unleash this heartbreak on her brought him to a full cry of his own, his stool being knocked over to the side as he darted off of it into Penelope's arms, half-tackling her with a tight, loving embrace. "No! You -stop- it! You did -not- kill him!" Pulling back, he'd lift his hands to cup her cheeks, lifting her gaze to hold it steady with his own while wiping the tears from her face with his thumbs. "He is not dead. He is very much alive, and we are going to help him. If the tables were turned, and we were the ones that needed him, he'd already have this thing beat, so let's do this one for him, okay?" When Penelope finally rises to her feet, the level of resolve she displays brings a faint, yet hopeful smile to the half elf's lips, lifting an arm to smear his tears across the sleeve of his tunic while speaking into his arm with a muffled tone. "Gods, you need your head checked if you still think he hates you..." Clearing his throat, he reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder with a reaffirming nod. "We will get him back. But that entity is not dragging you -anywhere-. We won't let it. -He- won't let it."

Penelope shook her head as she listens to the teenager comfort her. “I understand his thinking and I want him to find the peace he has always wanted,” she says slowly. “But the fact he made it when I was gone. That’s the truth.” She squints. “I want him to find peace,” she repeats. “Rest. Happiness. Whatever he deserves, and if I were him… and like you, I’d want it too.” Her eyes stare in a serious way as the streaks fall, but then he is wiping the tears away as he comforts her with embrace. The teenager. The one that she should have stayed with. Looked over. Like her own. His thumbs brush over her cheeks. She should not be the one who needs the comforting, so she places a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pulls back with the hand still lingering there. “We’re going to get him back,” she repeats with a very stone-like, determined gaze. Both of them have hands on their shoulder. A pact. “If we are going to face this, I need rest. Give me two days. Two days to figure out what I need to do. Mental prep. Please,” she says sincerely. “Besides your father, there is another problem I have to tend to, but just know, I will find your father in the temple. Trust me, Aeric. I know I haven’t earned it, but I need you to know, I’m in now. We will get him back.”

Aeric smiles and dips his head in agreement. "What he deserves is his freedom. To have that burden lifted from his shoulders. I don't know how we'll get rid of it, but I know this is a step in the right direction." After hearing her request, he swiftly nods and pats her on the shoulder, rising to his feet and lifting his hands to draw his hood back over his head. "Of course. Take all the time that you need. it will give Lex and I a chance to at least make a small dent in his wall of memoirs." Circling around her to make his way to the door, he'd pause behind her for a moment, gently placing a hand on her back. "Also," he'd chuckle, turning his head just enough to reveal a sly grin beneath the opening of his hood. "Don't forget to return that journal to him for me. No -way- I'm setting foot there again so soon, he'll probably choke me before I can pull the book out. Thanks!" Then, before any sort of refusal or conflicting argument could be made, the shop door swung open and shut in a moment, leaving nothing but the short chime of a bell in it's wake.