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* Jaret has arranged to have lunch with Candra in a small private room at one of Marsember's tony restaurants, Arturo's. The table is set for two, and a glass skylight provides a soft ambient light that sparkles off the silver and glass on the table. * Jaret has arrived early, and is having a glass of white wine. He's leaned his sword against the wall, and is sitting facing the doorway. * Candra enters the room hesitantly, looking around. She is wrapped almost from head to toe in a green wool long-coat and hood. When she enters the room, she pushes back her hood. "Very nice." She looks around carefully. * Jaret stands as Candra enters, putting his glass down. "I enjoy it. May I take your wrap?" <Candra> ::unbuttoning her coat:: Thank you. :underneath, she is wearing several layers of warm clothing, giving her the illusion of being a somewhat larger person than she is.:: * Jaret takes the wool coat, takes a wooden hanger off the wall, and hangs the coat from a peg. He pulls Candra's chair out for her. "I must apologize again for what happened at the Meade Hall. If I'd had the slightest inkling you'd have been met with such invective, I wouldn't have asked you to meet me there." <Candra> ::shrugs:: There are some things I'm growing used to. Irrationality is only one of them. ::sits down and shakes out her napkin as if dismissing the incident:: * Jaret helps Candra move her chair in to the table. "Thank you for being so gracious. And agreeing to meet me again." He holds up the bottle of wine he's been drinking from. "Wine?" <Candra> Thank you, I'd love some. ::she shivers slightly and pulls her chair closer to the table:: * Jaret pours Candra some wine and returns to his seat. "I took the liberty of ordering before you arrived. I hope you won't mind." Whether Candra minds or not, a waiter in clothes perhaps more elegant than Jaret's arrives, carrying a platter with a bowl of fresh fall vegetables, dressing, olives, and steaming hot bread. <Candra> Thank you again. ::she takes a piece of bread and butters it liberally:: I'm afraid I never did get the full story. Why, exactly, are you in need of my help? * Jaret twists his mouth as he begins preparing his salad. "To summarize, I have a duel with an elf in fifty years time, and I'd like to be able to hold up my end of the bargain, and be in condition to dispatch the elf in said duel. Thus, my request to you. Although, I will say, I had been considering it anyway. There are very few positive aspects to growing old, and this is the only viable alternative I am aware of." <Candra> ::takes a sip of wine and observes Jaret thoughtfully over the rim of her glass:: I find myself wondering about that, sometimes. Is death such a bad option? <Jaret> It's not an appointment I find myself looking forward to. I rather enjoy life, and living it to the extent that I am presently able. <Candra> ::smiles thinly:: For all eternity? <Jaret> Why not? <Candra> ::takes a bite of bread:: You have been known to grow bored sitting in the same room for a few hours. This ::she taps her chest lightly:: this is your room. And once you've crossed the threshold, you will be locked inside it. It is not a decision to make lightly. <Jaret> So far, so good. ::he smiles himself:: Have you lived a century, when I wasn't watching? <Candra> Time is... a bit peculiar sometimes. And it moves differently. On different planes of existence. ::she toasts him with her glass:: There are risks, in what you ask, beyond your own ability to handle the change. * Jaret returns the toast. "And, as you never really got the full story of why I requested your assistance, I have yet to get the complete explanation behind your hesitance." <Candra> ::finishes off her glass of wine:: It is difficult to explain. Perhaps, as all good stories go, I should start at the beginning. My reasoning was impeccable, I believed. To wit: in order to attain a place in the afterlife, I must recover my soul from the being to whom it was bonded. My father's bargain, as I assume you recall. * Jaret nods and finishes his salad. "I believe I do." <Candra> The problem? That I was unable to find and defeat such a creature in the short lifespan allotted to humans. The solution? Live longer. Seems reasonable, over wine and bread, does it not? ::holds out her glass for a refill:: * Jaret refills Candra's goblet. "Indeed it does." <Jaret> ::the same waiter as before returns, whisking away Jaret's empty plate:: <Candra> The mixture itself, while difficult to prepare - as well as dangerous, both to recover the ingredients, and to mix them together - is effective. Very, startlingly, effective. <Candra> And I confess that I do not know - exactly - everything that it has done to me. <Jaret> I am pleased that all your research did amount to an overwhelming success. Even if you are uncertain about the overall experience. <Candra> ::smiles again:: I confess to having forgotten how charming you can be when you want something. I spent a good deal of time in the recovery of my soul. It is impossible to say how long - they don't exactly keep the Harptosian calendar on the lower planes. <Jaret> I had the... *experience* of being in the Infernal Regions myself, last year. We had a similar temporal issue on our return. <Candra> I would guess ::she looks down at her hands:: That I spent at least two, if not three, centuries at my task. And more time, recovering from the fatigue of battle, on another plane. And returned here - to nearly the day I had left. Still weary from my labors, despite my rest. That would be when your friends happened upon me. * Jaret winces. "Our issue was in the opposite direction. Two days of time on our part was two months for Marsember, and everyone else." <Candra> ::shrugs:: Except for the damp, it was restful. They were remarkably patient prison guards, although I confess that the sibilant chanting did grate on my nerves after a time. <Jaret> ::the waiter returns with the second appetizer. Shrimp sauteed with shallots, cream, cognac, and a spicy sauce, scallops sauteed with fresh herbs in lemon butter, and sauteed shallots in a very thinly sliced ham with cream, a pungent cheese, and sweet basil:: * Jaret scowls. "That wasn't literally demonic timing, simply metaphorically. I had no idea that many things could go wrong with a single ship and have it still nominally stay afloat." <Candra> ::helps herself to some scallops:: So. You wish to have a fight in fifty years and not get skewered? A reasonable sum-up? What about a champion? I understand it's often a professional resource available? <Jaret> A reasonable condensate of that aspect, yes. And I was challenged. I have no champion, and I don't intend to have one. <Candra> ::shrugs:: It was an alternate solution. And... I really wish for you to consider other options. I will do what you ask - because you ask it. In return, I ask that you seriously consider it. It... has changed me. It is still *changing* me. <Jaret> I will. And not only because you've asked me, but because I do understand, in part, the enormity of what I'm setting out to do. ::tentatively:: Are you done with your story? I have some questions, if you are. Otherwise, please continue, and your narrative may answer them. <Candra> ::waves a hand at him, encouraging his questions, as she helps herself to some more scallops:: <Jaret> What about your condition displeases you? If you knew then what you know now, would you make the same choice? <Candra> ::sighs:: I don't honestly know. My situation, you understand, was different. I did what I did in order to make my soul my own. To reserve my just and deserved place in whatever afterlife there is. Instead, I have deprived myself of it in another way entirely. * Jaret toys with the various sauteed delicacies. "And, not to be overbearing, but as for the first question? I have noticed that you seem uncomfortable." <Candra> And... there are other problems. ::she pushes open her clothing at the throat:: Give me your hand. It should happen soon. ::she presses his fingers against the side of her throat, where the artery would be. Almost three minutes pass before Jaret feels a single throb under his fingers:: * Jaret raises an eyebrow. "How often?" <Candra> ::shrugs:: Maybe once an hour. Or so... it has the distinct problem of making it difficult to keep warm. <Jaret> ::he offers a small smile:: If you would like, I would help you move your laboratory to more temperate climes. <Candra> You may need to, should you go through with this... ::her skin is cool - room temperature and no warmer - and the lack of pulse as she sits and calmly talks with him is... weird:: * Jaret takes his hand back from Candra's throat. "Need or want?" <Candra> Discomfort, over a long period of time, is wearying. ::she takes another sip of wine:: And I sleep strangely. Perhaps that is the worst part of it all. I will be awake for many more days - perhaps as long as another week. And then I will sleep. For two weeks. I will awaken famished, thirsty. Weak. <Jaret> It's as if you've slowed down your natural rhythms, then? Almost to a standstill, but there is still deliberate movement to them. <Candra> ::nods:: So it would seem. <Candra> I have calculated it out, in an idle moment. If my heart beats are an indication of my time remaining... I will live almost 150 years for each *day* I would have normally been allotted. <Jaret> ::the appetizers being gone, the waiter brings out an interlude of fresh pear sorbet and a small glass of cognac that has a soft, sweet, pear flavor:: <Jaret> And this... unsettles you? <Candra> I was... short-sighted, I think. So focused on my goal that I didn't see... anything else. <Jaret> ::using the spoon to shave off small curls of sorbet:: And now you think I am in a similar position, perhaps? <Candra> ::savors the cognac:: Perhaps. Would it really be so bad? Even if she were to kill you in fifty years? You get to die in a duel, you've done your honor no stain and she has not increased her own. <Jaret> It is infinitely preferable to live through the duel. It's one of many reasons I've trained as long and as hard as I have. I enjoy life, and really do wish to continue doing so for as long as I can. <Candra> ::shrugs:: It would be a very, very long time. <Jaret> And would that be so bad? <Candra> ::idly:: Well, don't say I didn't warn you. <Jaret> Oh, never that. ::he toasts her and has some of the cognac. A lull in the conversation rises, and Jaret ends it by saying:: So now that you have your soul back... how do you feel? <Candra> ::she twists the stem of her glass slowly, watching the liquor slosh gently inside the cup:: Alone. <Jaret> ::this was obviously not the response Jaret expected, but he recovers with only the slightest of pauses:: And your state makes that feeling weigh heavier on you, I imagine. Have you any plans? <Candra> ::thoughtfully:: I... was thinking about trying to find my mother, actually. ::gives Jaret a wicked glance:: At first I thought about finding - and killing, obviously - my father, but then, what's the point? He's an old man now, and I can't possibly ever hurt him enough. I should think I'd only harm myself in pursuing vengeance. * Jaret looks slightly embarrassed. "I'm afraid I remember few of the particulars of your mother." <Candra> I don't either. Much. She was the fifth of my father's seven wives. Somewhat after my youngest sister was born, he divorced her. No sons. I don't know what became of her. * Jaret looks somewhat relieved. "Oh. Well, that's quite little to go on. Where will you start?" <Jaret> ::the waiter bustles in, removing the sorbet cups and cognac, and shortly after brings in the main course -- round cuts of beef fillet in a very rich, dark brown sauce that has hints of a dry brandy, cream, spicy mustard, and green peppercorns:: <Candra> I have her family name. As a disgraced woman, she would have probably returned to her parents, or a brother, if she had one. I thought perhaps they might know... ::finishes off her cognac:: This is quite good. I could get accustomed to food like this. <Jaret> Life is always too short to eat bad food. And Arturo's is always good. <Jaret> ::nodding:: I can help you with that, ask around for a Silverrune family. Regardless of whether you decide to acquiesce to my request or not. <Candra> ::nods slowly:: Well, I can make the attempt. But I warn you, it won't be easy. And I lost my container, so we'll have to build a new one. It's pretty complex. Perhaps after you see the list, you'll decide you don't want it that badly. <Jaret> I'll make that decision after I see the list. But I do appreciate the warning. What's the container? <Candra> ::takes a bite of mustard-slathered roast beef:: The skull of an albino dragon. It's the only material I've found that... well, that doesn't melt, when you mix the reagents. <Jaret> Really? I didn't know there was such a thing. How large does the skull have to be? <Candra> puts down her fork long enough to make a circle with her arms, indicating a size somewhat smaller than a laundry basket. "About so... larger is fine, but smaller... well, smaller isn't. The trick is finding them. There aren't many, and they tend to be outcast. Mine was actually a blue, but used his superior intelligence to make himself an alpha in a flight of whites. Let me tell you, that was a real picnic." <Jaret> I'll ask... someone. I'll think of someone who would know. How did you find yours? ::he cuts off a slice of fillet and considers it:: <Candra> I spent several months watching white dragons and finally saw one breathing lightning instead of ice. There's probably a better way, but I'm no expert on dragons. Or, at the time, I really wasn't. Amazing creatures. Difficult to study though. They're not at all equanimitable about being observed. <Jaret> ::finishing his beef:: If I may pry a bit more... Do I infer correctly from your statements at the Meade Hall that a dagger blow would do you little harm? <Candra> ::nods:: Sharp object wounds particularly... they heal clean. It's the blunt trauma that takes longer. Falling off a cliff? Very messy. Painful. * Jaret frowns. "Hmm. That actually complicates things. I'm not sure if it would be fair." <Candra> Well, I think that was caused by the troll glands. We can probably leave that out, and you shouldn't have the same sort of regenerative abilities. I mean, given enough time, most wounds *will* heal, so a direct heart or brain stem injury would kill you, but something like being stabbed in the lung? You'd probably recover. Eventually. <Jaret> I suppose that would be all right... <Candra> I'm surprised you're concerned about fair, given that she's deliberately taking advantage of your mortality. <Jaret> Simply because she's not being honorable doesn't mean I have to do likewise. <Candra> Well, perhaps not, but I... ah well, honor is just one of those things. Perhaps I'll take a dozen years and study it. Or something. * Jaret grins. "That's the spirit!" The waiters arrive, clear away the entree, and present dessert -- white chocolate ice cream covered with a hard dark chocolate shell on a bed of zabaione flavored with mandarin liquor and garnished with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. <Candra> ::with delighted surprise:: Oh, this is *very* nice. ::glances at Jaret slyly:: Did you tell *her* you were treating me to luncheon? <Jaret> I told her that I was meeting you for lunch to discuss what had been interrupted at the Meade Hall. She knows my tastes enough to know the type of meal you would be sampling. <Candra> Well, I can't say I envy you for living with that temper of hers... ::she sighs:: <Jaret> It makes things interesting. I like interesting. <Candra> ::laughs quietly:: That you do... I hope it is a trait that stays with you. You'll need it. |
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