She looked back at him, a slight smile on her face. It was good that others knew of Ghil-Dirthalen and she was pleasantly surprised to hear that their tale hadn't completely disappeared in the eons between then and now.
His next comment elicited a small chuckled. [color=#9a00b2]"Well, there would certainly be more children about."[/color] That might have been a slight jab at his proclivities, but nothing judgmental. [color=#9a00b2]"But perhaps ones who knew more of our history, which wouldn't be such a bad thing."[/color]
She let him take the lead in piecing the story together. Now that they knew who - or what - it was about, it didn't take long for the story to be made whole again. Even as the sounds of moving stone indicated that they had solved the puzzle she found herself staring at it, a hollowness within her tinged with sorrow aching as she did. Spirits might not be friends, per say, but at one time she had nearly thought of Ghil-Dirthalen as such. Back when she could find peace at Vir Dirthara, long, long ago. [color=#9a00b2]"Ir abelas, lethallin,"[/color] she said quietly.
Doing her best to shake off the cobwebs of memory clinging to her, she followed Ruth down the stairs. Another pulse of magic lit veilfire sconces around the chamber. It was not large, but a few people could comfortably fit around the tomb. Originally this chamber would have been meant for those entering uthenera, and the murals along the walls depicted scenes of such, but eventually fewer and fewer of them had been able to do so. The war had put an end to lives that were never meant to see finality so.
There was a chest at the foot of the sarcophagus, and she had no doubt her friend's final resting place could be opened but she was unsure if she wished to. [color=#9a00b2]"What you seek is probably in there,"[/color] she said, indicating the chest. [color=#9a00b2]"Likely safe enough now that we've passed the test."[/color]
Ruth’s love of the written word spanned a number of different genres, though he did lean to the topics of history and literature rather than more academic pursuits. Reading brought a comfort which had seen him through dark times and once the ink had dried, books couldn’t rewrite themselves, they held their truth even if fleeting with revised editions.
Ruth scoffed, “Oh she has jokes now?” his head shook with a chuckle, unoffended by the jab. “Nonono. Well... There might be,” he wasn’t a saint, taking his pleasures with reckless abandon, yet mercifully so far, no-one had popped up calling him Dad. “I feel, like the rest of my family’s opinion of me, they’d be better off not knowing. I make my own life difficult enough, no sense subjecting anyone else to it.” These days he was more cautious, but in the haze and fogged reality that Ruth lingered in, who was to say what precautions had been taken? Perhaps in the morning, if he remembered.
Watching the murals shift and slot into the right order, he’d catch her comment, casting a fleeting glance before pretending to study the ascension tale. It was something difficult to fathom, waking up to find the world so changed and so few of the familiar loved ones to offer any comfort to the jarring experience. There was appreciating the history of their people, and then there was actually living during it. Two perspectives that didn’t normally coincide with one another. So Ruth chose not to intrude, turning instead to the stairs and the newly opened chamber.
He didn’t approach the chest at first, eyeing Solana a moment before turning to take a study of the room. “You know, it’s not always the prize that’s the true point. Books are everywhere. I just like their puzzles mostly.” And this was a good one, he’d study the murals more later but firstly, “Respect is due, for an entertaining afternoon though.” Between terrifying the earlier party and the decoding of the tale, he’d been thoroughly entertained and distracted. With purpose, Ruth approached the sarcophagus, gathering his hands in front of him. His head tilted forwards steadily in respect, a quietly mumbled prayer fell from his lips in thanks and remembrance and soon enough his shoulders jostled and he cast Solana a look.
“You tell anyone and I’ll lie about it. I’ve a reputation to remember.”
She had not expected this from Ruth. She knew he respected their history, and sought, as she did, to reclaim relics of it, but the reverence he showed to her long-passed friend and their resting place surprised her. It wasn't just that he sought the things of the past, he respected their long-gone ways. It a depth to him that she hadn't seen before, and she found her opinion warming as a result.
[color=#9a00b2]"No, we wouldn't want anyone thinking better of you, would we?"[/color] She said lightly. Now that she'd caught a glimpse of what lay beneath Ruth's irreverent and frustrating exterior she knew there was more to him than he showed most. Infuriating that a soul so curious and intelligent didn't wish to be seen as such. But that was up to him and it was not her place to do or say otherwise.
And so, on a more serious note, she inclined her head and stated, [color=#9a00b2]"If that is what you wish, I shall respect it."[/color]
With that, she made her way to the side of the sarcophagus opposite him and knelt. She had her own rituals to perform to honor the dead and protect what they had left behind. Ruth could watch or not, partake or not, it would not bother her either way. Now that she had found her way here it would not be right to go without leaving things as they should be.
Had he been with anyone else, the healer might not have been so respectful, yet she knew the occupant of the tomb. They had laughed together once, discussed life and its endless possibilities and that memory had a right to be remembered and honoured. Offering a small prayer was the least he could do. His stare held a moment longer then he’d grin as she agreed with him. “Better of me? Is there such a thing?” No, he was shithead who attracted trouble and problems, there was nothing better for him out there.
“Doubt anyone would believe you if you did anyways, my own enemy is myself at the end of the day.” No truer words were ever spoken, but Ruth left her to her own rituals, shifting off to allow her some privacy he headed to peruse the few books left on a mantle until she was done. Only then did he approach the chest and fish out the few interesting pieces he had hoped to find, they’d fetch him a handsome reward and go on to be studied by those back in Arlathan’s Refectory.
One more piece in the endless tapestry of their long history had been found finally. Soon it would be returned and serve to instruct others. Ruth himself would take to one of the books, enraptured by its contents every able moment he had on the return trip. Now and again he'd be caught scribbling down some of the phrases into his own journal, a tome that rarely left his sight nor was ever offered to read through. Truthfully, Ruth was quite particular about it, putting it away or out of reach if one enquired about it. And upon reaching Arlathan, he'd bid Solana farewell, extending the invitation for the Ancient to find him in the Refectory should she feel tempted to test her theory of him having a soul.
