There's a certain energy in the air, Auris feels, one in which you can't help but admire all about you.  Perhaps she's just in a good mood; nothing much has gone wrong in a little while, after all.  With an inward chuckle, she enters the tavern—and halts in her tracks, staring across the room at Gwrtheyrn.  He grins at her over the dark head of his conversational partner.  "Vṛkā!"

"How—"

The young woman turns, tucking dark hair behind a pointed ear—ah, there goes any chance of guessing age.  "H-hello, Miss," the elf says, dropping into a curtsey.  She appears almost childlike, so perhaps there's something to it after all, elven timescale or no.

"Good evening," Auris replies with a nod, moving to join them.  How did you get in here? she asks Gwrtheyrn.

Lyra let me in!

"Lyra?"

"Oh, do—do I—I haven't met you?"  The elf worries her brow, a blush deepening the tan of her cheeks.

"Ah, no, excuse me.  Auris Sunwolf Oretharos," Auris says with a bow, and hesitates halfway through before adding with a grin, "daughter of Medb Reddawn, daughter of Skaia Bloodsinger, daughter of Kellmiri the Wise; Lieutenant of the Defense Force and Chief Justice of the settlement.  A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The elf stares back with wide eyes, no small amount of awe in her expression.  "M-my name is Lyra Olithar, um...seeker of, of nature's wisdom and...and friend to all."  She pauses, and her blush darkens.  "That s-sou-sounded better in my head..."

"Oh, it's an admirable start," Auris says.  "It's always a pleasure to meet someone appreciative of a full introduction," her smile grows, touched with brilliant mischief, "even one as...cut down as my offering."

There's a sense of bemusement from Gwrtheyrn at Auris' mood, and she laughs, meeting his eyes with a shrug.  It's a good night, she tells him.  Why shouldn't I enjoy it?

"There...there's more?" Lyra asks.  "You must be very accomplished to have so many titles, Miss Auris."

"Oh, Sunwolf would be more appropriate."

"Oh, Miss, Miss Sunwolf."  A pause.  "Could...could I hear them?  If you don't mind sharing, of course."

Gwrtheyrn's amusement is as easily read in his eyes as in his mind, and Auris mentally shushes him.  She rarely has the chance to stand about trading boasts, despite the time she's spent—especially in her youth—turning an introduction into an art form.  She stands tall, beginning in a full voice, "I am Auris Sunwolf Oretharos..."

For several minutes, she expounds upon the skills and achievements of her ancestors—Kellmiri's much-sought-after counsel; Bloodsinger's martial prowess; Reddawn's instinct for command—and then of herself, offering every name she's earned and how she earned it, all in grand style.  "...And that," she says with a sweeping bow, "is who I am."

Lyra claps enthusiastically.  "That—that was breathtaking.  Thank you for regaling me with your many names."

Auris smiles, nodding in acceptance of the thanks.  "But now, I think, it's time for tea."

"Oh, I love tea!  I'll have some too, please," Lyra says, following her to the bar, and soon they've returned to a table beside Gwrtheyrn, two steaming mugs of Earl Grey between them.

"What were you speaking of earlier?" Auris asks, glancing between Lyra and Gwrtheyrn.

"Oh, um, I was, was sharing where I, um, come from, um...but Clearshot had to leave...oh!  You could translate!"

"Translate?"

"To Gwrtheyrn!"

"To...Gwrtheyrn?"

The wolf sits up, mouth open in a grin.  "I understand you now Vṛkā is here," he says in his low, rumbling tones.

A beat.

Gwrtheyrn nudges Auris.  "You're not translating."

"I'm not—what is there to translate?"

He stares at her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

It isn't.

"Tell Lyra what I said."

"She heard you plain as I did—"

"She doesn't speak Celestial."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because I speak Celestial?"

"So—  You—  What?"

"You know her tongue, so you can tell her—"

"You can tell her yourself; you just...did..."  Auris looks again at Lyra, who seems rather confused by the exchange but is waiting patiently.  "You don't know a word he's saying, do you?"

"Oh!  Um...n-no, I don't s-speak that, um...what you were speaking."

"What we..."

Gwrtheyrn tilts his head.  "Api all right?"

"Yes, I, I'm fine; I—what did you say?"

"Api kuśalam?"

"I'm...fine..."

Words tumble from Gwrtheyrn's mouth, asking if she's certain, and though she understands their meaning, their sound is alien to her ears.

"How did..."  She frowns.  Those words, too, were alien.  "How did this happen," she says slowly, carefully choosing the familiar words, and Lyra shrugs in response.  Gwrtheyrn, too, seems at a loss.  "You can't understand these words?" she asks Gwrtheyrn.

It's the oddest thing, hearing him pronounce words unfamiliar to her, and yet know precisely what he said, that he can't understand her words, no, but he can read their meaning from her mind.

"Is that what I'm doing?"

To an extent, he thinks it might be, but there's something further there, as she can speak it, too.  Perhaps a gift from Miris, he offers.

"Yes, perhaps it is..."  It's becoming a little easier already to distinguish the languages she hears.  A little.

"Perhaps it's what?" Lyra asks.

"A gift from Miris."

"Miris is...the one you follow?"

"Yes, the Honorborn."

"Um, who...I don't really know who that is..."

"Oh, she's one of the Thoughts—you don't know who they are, either?"

Lyra shakes her head.

"Ah, well.  I should be glad to speak on them if you'd like."

"Oh!  Y-yes, please!"

Auris smiles, sitting back and taking a sip of her tea, letting thoughts of languages fade to the back of her mind.  "Perhaps...yes, the Treatise would do well.  An ancient poem, attributed to Kina Luthier.  Pity I didn't bring my hurdy-gurdy...  Voice alone shall have to suffice."

Gwrtheyrn shifts, resettling himself as Auris closes her eyes, recalling the words, and begins:

The world so dark it wasn't there
Or was it light?  We cannot say
For neither way 'twas everywhere
Perhaps it was eternal gray
Yet all our words we know are not
Sufficient to this thing portray—
Then non-existence had a thought.
And as the only thing around
The thought itself, itself it wrought
And half to sleep, existence bound
And half awake, the watch to keep
The world, the stars go ever 'round.

She pauses, looking at Lyra, who sits in rapt attention.  "The First Thought of Creation," Auris says, "the Mother Goddess Ankri, brought this world into being...and with that Thought, that simultaneous action, she was split into Shivali, who slumbers as creation itself, and Khalini, who watches over it."

And looking on her greatest feat
Which was, which had not been before
The Watchful One thought long and deep.
The concept at the matter's core:
That change cannot be brought about
Without the aid of time.  What's more,
To measure time at all without
A difference 'tween the past and now—
Impossible, beyond a doubt.
Then came the Second Thought of how
If time alone a change compels
She could that power thus endow
Unto the very things themselves
To go, and change, and so return
As ev'ry start an end foretells.

"Thus was Dreyani born: the Second Thought of Life.  And soon after, the Twins: Riask, the Thought of Logic, and Viskrema, the Thought of Free Will."

Yet still within her longing burned
Until the realization dawned
It was for company she yearned.
Although the task was not beyond
Her vast control, her hand she stayed
To closer watch the world respond.
When time was ripe, two gifts she made
With Reason first, to guide the way
Down paths which she had long since laid
And, second, Choice, in hopes that they
Their selves might separately define
And wander not too far astray.
The heirs of all those gifts divine
The children of those Second Thoughts
How quick their mem'ry did decline—
Yet what a fascinating lot.
To make so much of simple fate
When origin's all but forgot
Strange folk, indeed, who can't create
Except en masse, unconsciously
While comprehension comes but late
And thinking hard, they thoughtlessly
Create, dismiss, the proof they seek
Of their inborn divinity.
When looking on, you can't critique
That honest, raw tenacity
Which is, perhaps, not so unique
And coupled with vivacity
Is surely sign that any deed
Is well in their capacity.
In one, at least, they did succeed
When as a group they had the Thought
Of Want, which, ranging up through greed
Caused them to be with feeling fraught
Which, in turn, is cause entire
Of almost all they since have wrought.

"These are the Third Thoughts: Tembor: conflict.  Suda: despair.  Miris: deceit."

It is accepted that Desire
Within the fae has led them to
Indulge in competition dire
But though the concept's naught but true
It wasn't necessarily
The fae who first thought up the two.
(This path I tread but warily)
See, Second Thoughts led to the fae
Yet there is some disparity
In that those Thoughts themselves were made
In answer to great loneliness
Or naught but curious essays
And if the last, then fae success
Is in the Third Thoughts common termed
And if the first, then our distress
Is shared with her, it is confirmed
Though in the end, it matters not
As everything's to her returned.

"There's...much here that's been discovered since this was composed—but that comes later.  For now, it's enough: all is as a cycle."

For time will make it clear we've brought
Our own destruction on ourselves
And in the end, all will be naught
Yet even in these short-lived spells
Of life, we have contrived to grow
And learn, and not be overwhelmed
And once we've learned all we can know
We must ourselves at last prepare
And as we came, so then we'll go.
Our world so dark, no longer there
Or light?  We cannot truly say
For neither way, will everywhere
It be, and very much the same
Until, in time, there comes the spot
When as it was, it is again:
When non-existence has a thought.

The words hang in the air, fading away.

"Oh, that was beautiful!" Lyra exclaims.

Auris smiles in thanks.  "I shouldn't leave you with an incomplete picture, though.  The Treatise is...old, to say the least, and lacks some understandings we hold today."

"Um...do, do you mean about...Miris?"

"All the Third Thoughts, truly.  By conflict, we have growth; despair makes way for joy; and the option of deceit gives value to truth and creates the opportunity for honor."

Lyra nods slowly, taking this in.

"All is in balance: existence and non-existence, that which lives and that which doesn't, logic to balance free will...all the way to honor, to balance deceit.  Miris is both the Masked One and the Honorborn.  I, of course, serve her latter aspect."

"Gods are never as simple as, as one aspect," Lyra says thoughtfully.  "So we can connect with them more, because, because we're complicated, too."

"The Thoughts are simple, in that they may be summarized in few words, yet complex, in that one might devote a lifetime to their study and never fully comprehend them—but the most complexities arise where they intersect and interact—in us, in what they produced."

"Oh, that, that's a nice way of looking at it."

Auris smiles gently.  "I like to think so, at least."

❂

Left on the desk of Lieutenant Oretharos:

Visitor: GASH

Reason for visit: L̶A̶I̶S̶H̶O̶ the "other"

Notes: Spoke with the other under supervision.  Asked about other's connection with Valerian.  Offered further conversation if other wouldn't mess with Valerian.