Not Until We Are Lost

Annabelle blinked.

She'd been... well, she'd been sitting in her room on the ship, drawing, and now...

Now she was standing next to a woman in full, sweeping skirts, made of a rich gold tapestry-looking fabric. There were people in armor walking with them, and they made their way down the hall of what looked like a castle.

Annabelle stopped walking for a moment to take it all in, feeling her heart start to race. She clasped her hands, pleased to feel that her ring was still on her hand, though it seemed she was dressed much differently, too. She didn't have a skirt; she had pants, black ones, and tall brown boots that were very soft, and she had a fitted bodice with a white shirt underneath, with billowing sleeves. The shirt's length covered her like a short tunic. Her hair was back and it was obviously pinned and styled--she could feel the pins.

She scrambled to catch up, sure that if she didn't, something bad would happen.

"Come now," the woman in the dress said, and now Annabelle could see she wore a gold crown. "Do keep up. What good is a bodyguard if she's not beside my person?"

Annabelle felt her face get pale. All of her blood seemed to be going into those soft brown boots now.

Sabev was in wonder about the ship. When she'd awoken alone in a room, she had at first feared that she was again in the water. But there was no sense of it anywhere nearby, not in amounts that would do her damage. She was able to ease her body's tension and get herself out of the bed. Which was when she discovered everything around her that was hers. The dress that Ilyien had bought her in Electric City. The clothing she had received from him in the black and white world. She now got to see them in color, and they were even more beautiful. (Though the hats were even more absurd when she saw the combinations, she would keep that quiet, however.)

The clothes that she had started this adventure in were also there. Her very own belongings that still smelled of the outdoors and the cold of the mountain. The items that smelled of closeness with Ilyien. She brushed one such garment across her cheek and smiled, then blushed wildly as the memory of the dream came unbidden to her mind.

Another thing that she realized was that he was very near. They were not apart. They were not held back by the horrible sea, or kept apart so that it felt as if she were the only one.

Sabev pulled a fairly modern looking garment out of the closet and slid it over her head, it was soft cotton and touched her in a very delightful way. She settled it around her hips and went to the drawer where she discovered a pair of the strange denim jeans that did not seem like they would be good for long travel, despite what they were made of. They conformed to her body as if they had been made for her as her traveling leathers were, and she took a moment to appreciate the silhouette they created in the looking glass.

The little phoenix picked up a hairbrush and began to run it gently through her curls, humming happily to herself. This was the first time she didn't feel scared or lost. Ilyien's teachings were fresh in her mind and she felt like she could protect herself from almost anything. But it was more than that. She felt safe aboard this strange vessel with its odd metal walls that felt like silk but were warm when she touched them.

The room was simply appointed. The clothing was familiar. The leather armor. The weaponry. All of it was achingly familiar, but although he consider these possessions his own, they seemed out of place. He'd not had a home for some time. But now, he felt disassociated from everything that had ever made him what he had been before.

Ilyien paused with a hand against the hilt of his sword, then dropped his hand to his side again. At length, he pulled on a plain jacket - one of the ones he'd worn in New Dietrich - and stepped beyond the door of his room.

Sabev's consciousness was close. He knew he should find her. Even wanted to. But there was a greater part of him that was simply weary. Weary of all of this. He'd lost his people and his position in his society long ago. Now, it felt he was losing his very identity. Without knowing it, he'd set his shoulder against the smooth, cool wall beside his door. It hardly seemed to matter what he was. Even his god had gone silent.

The sound of footsteps pulled him back to himself. He drew himself up slowly from the wall and straightened.

It was hard to be in the middle of all that water. The feeling of it surrounding her was oppressive. But not as bad as it had been on the boat. And she'd found a cave that was dry and good shelter to hide herself in. That helped a good deal.

Ilyien was not on this island with her, but she could still feel him out there. They were still connected, and intimately. She knew that he was not just out there, but very close. She might be able to get to him if she really tried. But she was at this time unwilling to leave the cave.

There were others here with her, too. She wanted to reach out to them, but Ilyien's anger toward her was still very fresh in her mind. Keeping herself secret seemed like something that she should be doing. Especially now, when she was so incredibly vulnerable.

She tried not to think of the dream that she'd had. That wonderful thing that had caused her to wake up with burnt sheets. She didn't want to block anything off from her friend, because the connection with him was all that was keeping her calm. But she did not want to share that. The best way was to keep it out of her mind entirely.

It was easy to make a fire in the cave, and direct the smoke to drift out the mouth. To feed herself with the flames. She thought once or twice about going to ground, feeling it might be safer there, but it got too wet, and she could feel it. She was fine where she was for now. It would be too shallow to protect her, really keep her safe, if she went into the earth.

I know you're still upset with me, friend. She said into the darkness of the cave, reaching out to the other phoenix with a sharp hope in her chest. But please just tell me that you're alright.

The immediate reaction, upon waking from the dream, was to ensure his heated mind was silenced, ensure nothing bled rudely into the mind of the little young thing in the adjoining room. It helped that he'd gone to sleep with Sabev almost completely sealed off from him. It did not help that in his dream, they'd been mentally twined together in a...

He sat on the edge of his bed, gripping his knees hard. Every part of his heart ached. He felt utterly destroyed, a shipwreck on an abandoned beach. It had only been a dream, but he'd thought about that exact scenario countless times recently. It was, he supposed, only a matter of time before his subconscious gave life to the desire.

More than ever, he was convinced that he could never pursue Sabev romantically. Even if she threw open her mind and heart to him completely, as she had in his dream, he knew what he was: a broken old bird with only half a heart left - and it, sorely damaged.

He could protect her. He could travel with her. He could even love her. But he could never, ever have her. He knew it through and through. That keen judge inside him saw the unfairness of it all and rejected the notion of any attempt to make Sabev more than a very close friend. It hurt. But he had handled hurt before. He would do again. For her.

Ilyien stood and slowly started dressing for the day. There were still early morning hours to pass, but there would be no more rest for him now. He left quietly, and headed for an all night diner.

After seeing the strange, strong woman who called herself 'Jack' to safety, Ilyien walked for a time in the deep night streets. He was far from the place where he'd taken up residence, and wasn't particularly keen on returning at the moment. Because he was not expected to show to the ship yards the following morning, he had no obligation to see to the need for rest that his human body preferred. And so he walked.

Eventually, when he'd bled all the vestiges of anger out of his heart, he found himself staring up at the building where he and his companion resided. He had not yet reached out to her mentally. The knowledge that she was there was still a constant. But he didn't allow her access to anything else. Sabev couldn't even know that he stood here. Quietly, he returned to his room and began dressing for sleep.

Not long after his return, he dropped between the sheets and closed his eyes. Consciousness faded.

The door to the building swung behind him ungently. The crack of thunder in its frame - and the uncomfortable shuffling of the door man beside it - called to Ilyien to stop and center himself. After a moment's forced and careful calm, he turned back to the door man and nodded once in apology before heading down the street.

His anger ran deep, nearly as deep as the pain. He walked briskly, pressing his feet hard against the pavement with each step, forcing his mind through a series of elementary focus routines. Throughout it, he kept his mind carefully separated from his fellow phoenix. Sabev would know his presence; he couldn't close her out so completely, even now. But he could allow no true communion with her now. The anger was breaking his composure, dredging up the past, stabbing into the wound his lifemate left behind when she burned through her final flame.

The audacity, the sheer, blind stupidity of that human! How his Sabev found friendship with such a treacherous creature, he couldn't fathom. The woman was so certain of her words, certain when she knew nothing of the phoenix, nothing of the suffering their race had endured at the hands of her kind. Because of the greed of humans, of all other races, his people had been hunted nearly to non-existence. Creating new phoenix was a rare and dangerous process. When his people first retreated to the deserts of Caeleste, there had been so few of them that there was a true concern that they would yet fall into history.

It took centuries, centuries on centuries, to return the phoenix to a stronger population. One city became two became three, as their remembrance in the Outer Realms turned to legend and then myth. It was how it must be. The wealth the phoenix carried in their blood and in their tears was enough to begin wars and blood feuds. The wealth of the phoenix was enough to turn good men into brutal butchers. Kyla Trinian, his beautiful lifemate, had fallen to a group of those men. No, that human had no concept of what she so arrogantly suggested was "what must be."

His skin was dangerously hot. He realized it when he stopped beside a bench and put his hand on the metal. The paint bubbled under his palm. Gritting his teeth, he wiped his palms together and drew his skin back to its human-like temperature. It was a wonder his clothing hadn't begun to steam. He took a hard breath and demanded that his calm return to him. This was no way for a Knight of the Obsidian Circle to comport himself. This was no way for a follower of Tyr to behave. He shut his eyes.

Again, Ilyien had not only found a place for them to stay, but a way to make the money needed to pay for things they had to have. Food and shelter topped that list, but more clothing was also important. It was one thing to wear the same thing day in and day out when you were traveling, it was another to do it when you were stationary and moving through a new society. But her friend made it all happen.

Neither phoenix really noticed anything strange about the coins that he brought home. So far, none of the money they'd seen - especially Sabev - had been anything like what they were used to. It didn't freak either of them out, and it didn't really cause much wonder other than the initial inspections.

The thing that Sabev found most strange and disconcerting was the lack of color. Color was the way that she had always defined her life. Phoenix were identified by their color. Family history could be seen in clarity and lines. It was unsettling to look at her human body in the looking glass and not see the fiery red hair or the bright blue eyes. It was off-putting to imagine seeing herself or Ranulf in their true forms and not seeing the colors there.

But in the end, she was okay with it, because he was here with her. Even though she couldn't see the colors of the dresses he brought for her, she could still appreciate the styles. They were different. Flowy. A little bit bouncy.

Though somebody had convinced him to buy some very silly hats. She wore them in the rooms they shared, but she wouldn't dare wear them out the door.

Sabev was straightening up a little while she waited for him to return. She wanted to see if she could convince him to meet Niks. Sabev knew what her friend's mind felt like, so while it might be a little rude to do so, she felt confident that she would be able to seek out Niklas Wright fairly easily.

The night before, Ilyien retired in the room he secured for himself and Sabev. As had been their usual arrangement since before they found themselves in this strange world, Sabev took the bed; Ilyien slept in a chair drawn close to the door. The last thing Ilyien recalled was falling asleep to the feeling of Sabev's contented dreaming.

And when he opened his eyes again, it was not with the gradual awareness of myriad aching muscles, but with the immediacy of thunder. He shot to his feet on reflex, sending the chair flying behind him. He was not in the room he'd hired for himself and his companion.

This room was completely different -- very much like a restaurant, one of the places he'd learned about during his time in the new world they'd discovered. But this was different, too. Everything in black and white. The raiment he wore. The flesh of his skin. Everyone and everything around him.

These observations were taken in within the first breath he drew. The second thing he noticed was that Sabev was still nearby. He turned, looking for his companion and his charge. As long as she was well, he could manage anything else.

Ilyien had gotten her off the boat as quickly as he could manage. Sabev had done her best to recover herself while he tried to find out what was going on. He'd come back to reveal that there were others aboard that didn't know how they'd gotten there. One of them, the captain, had just taken over. That had shocked the little phoenix, she would have never have thought to do such a thing. To just... take over in a situation where she was unsure of anything. But the woman, Sympathy, didn't really strike her as normal, from Ilyien's telling of her. She was gruff and spoke in strange ways.

The thing that he had expressed the most was that they were in no danger. Sympathy had demanded that work be done in exchange for passage on her vessel, and he had agreed to it. Ilyien had then claimed Sabev as his own, saying that she was ill and that he would work for the two of them. Sabev had no idea how to feel about that. She knew that he was doing it to protect her and keep her from having to be out in that ocean air any more than she had to be, but it tugged at her mind and made her feel as if there might be something more. That was silly wasn't it? That there might be something more? He was Ranulf Ilyien. What could he want with a firebird such as Sabev?

Being off the Anna Cortez proved to be even more harrowing than being on it. The phoenix found themselves in a city, though it was unlike anything either of them had ever seen in their very long lives. The buildings towered above them, the streets were made of black rock, the people wore strange clothing, spoke in strange ways and were very hostile.

After being almost run over by an amazing metal cart that moved without a horse at speeds that Sabev had never dreamed possible, Ilyien had found them an inn to hole up in. It was a strange place. There were many rooms, not just a couple. And though the rooms were small, they were very clean. There was no straw in the mattresses, no fleas on the sheets. Strange, squishy covering on the floor. And that wasn't even where the truly strange parts came in.

Water poured from the walls.

There was a whole shrine attached to the room, devoted to water. It came from one place when shiny silver handles were manipulated, and from another like a waterfall from rock when she twisted a white knob. She found that she could change the temperature of it. There was even a strange tiny pond, and when she pressed down on the little lever there, the pond emptied out and refilled itself.

And the box, the box on the chest of drawers. That most mysterious of all things. She had activated it entirely on accident, her fingers running over the surface of it. It spoke to her. Depending on where she pressed, sometimes very colorful images flashed across the screen. Talking, cavorting multicolored ponies. Other times, very serious humans talking about tragic events. Others still, humans in strange situations with laughter that came from nowhere.

All this Sabev discovered while Ilyien was out. He had told her to stay put. He was going to explore more and find them food to eat. Sabev had no idea how long he had been gone, she had been too wrapped up in the shrine and the box.

It wasn't her ship, but she'd sure as hell taken it over the first chance she'd gotten. She didn't feel bad for it, either. These bastardos didn't deserve the magnificent creature she was now captain of.

Sympathy had woken up deep in the belly of the boat, the familiar swaying instantly recognizable. She hadn't been on the water when she'd gone to sleep. Which meant that they had kidnapped her. Possibly thinking that they might get a wench out of it. Maybe to try to ransom her, thinking she was some rich man's daughter. She'd been wearing the dress of one, after all. Of course, she'd stolen it. After looking around some, discovering a massive churning, loud, contraption that put off heat, Sympathy made up her mind on what to do. She would take it. The whole thing. So one by one, she found and killed the captain, the first mate and the boson, tossing their bodies over the side. She gave the crew two options. Join their fellows in the ocean, or work for her. They all opted to work.

She had gotten them to show her how to quiet the noise in the ship, though many protested that it was what propelled them forward. She just pointed at the great masts and the sails attached. Which just confused them further.

The ship was not exactly like what she knew. It was large and wooden, yes. The sails were there, yes. The steering was done not out in the air, but in a little hut over the captain's quarters. There were lights and dials, instruments that looked like compasses, but were not. Many things that Sympathy started to ask about but waved off once she figured out she didn't need them to actually make the thing go. Without the terrific clamor down below, these things by the wheel made no difference. Again, the crew protested about the use of the sails. They would get further faster if she would let them turn the engine back on. Sympathy had no idea what an engine was, and she didn't want to hear their tall tales. They shot so many strange words at her. Replica. Movie prop. To the point that she threatened to drown the next man who spoke up about it in his own blood.

Land, they told her, was a few days away still. Sympathy didn't care. If the ship didn't need to resupply, she would have kept them on the water longer, straying from whatever foolish course they'd been on. All she cared about was that she was again the captain. Her new ship was called the Anna Cortez.