* * *
Stevane
* * *

"What was my sister like?" It's a natural question. Strangely, brandishing weapons at Calyx while asking it makes it even more so.

He's rummaging through drawers of paper and references, digging through documents that are who knows how old. He seems rather nonchalant about the whole weapons-brandishing thng, but then his line of work probably makes that normal. "Just as pretty and dangerous as you. Xen really did give me a scare. For a moment, I thought he knew she was still alive." He produces a compass out of all that mess, then places that with the quill and paper he gathered up. He's been adding things to the map already, but he wanted to keep things accurate. Already I'm impressed by how much he's marked on that thing... and curious as to how true it all is.

"Oh?"

* * *
Sy
* * *

Elete settles into his quarters, and to my surprise, goes to sleep. I suppose he wasn't understating things when he said he could use some rest. His ailments are beginning to trouble me...

But then, we already know they're going to kill him, don't we?

I try to tell myself that he's let me know it's inevitable so that I don't waste my resources on saving him and instead can focus my efforts on what's important. He's even said outright that there will be a Poet King to replace him. One of his Poets, then? That's a daunting thought. Some of them, even I will admit, are quite capable - but no one has that sense about them of... of knowing. That complete, almost undoubtable authority. Most of all, he engenders trust in everyone... even myself.

How do we begin to replace that? We never sought him in the first place. He called us, and we gave him a position for being, well... Elete.